1. Randi
Chapter 1
Randi
Present Day
V andera’s newest arrival can work the cage; I’ll give the man that.
The pink-and-purple lights on the raised platform behind the bar catch the oil between his cheeks each time the lithe human rolls his hips to the throbbing electronic mix. The steel cage doesn’t so much as creak when he sits back on his ankles and braces himself on his outstretched hands. On the drop of the beat, the man stops teasing the crowd and lets himself take the knotted toy he’s been working for the last two songs.
He is the perfect fantasy of an omega in heat come to life. Around me, the bar clouds with spicy alpha-wolf pheromones. Though the man is human, sweet floral notes pour off him in waves, pushing the crowd closer to rut with each lift of his hips.
Another one of Vandera’s ingenious spells. This one she crafted for the human individually—to enhance his natural scent to mimic the pheromones of an omega wolf. It’s a slight of the nose, powerful enough to subdue most alphas from turning feral during their oncoming mating rut and a way to weed out the rest.
Even my body responds the moment the new arrival takes the knot. My insides tighten, coiling with an aching emptiness that rouses a whine from my dragon. I’m restless tonight, though I can’t pinpoint why.
I hide my desire and study the human instead, looking for signs of how he might perform later. It’s one thing for a human to dance and fuck alone in a cage for an audience of wolves. To be in the nest downstairs and take ten or more wolves is quite another.
But as usual, Vandera’s spell has lured a wanton and willing soul. The delicate-looking man’s face relaxes as he works the knot, his lips falling open on a breathy moan. I can tell he loves it, and that desire will serve him well when he has trained enough to descend to the nest below the bar to ride out the wolves’ rut.
Delia sets a napkin on the wooden bar top in front of me and settles my martini atop it with a flourish.
“What’s this?” I lift my brow in question at the delicate pink rose petals floating on the surface of my gin martini.
“Fennik told me I could add a drink special to the menu tonight. Isn’t it pretty, boss?” she asks. Delia is bubble gum incarnate, bouncing on her toes as she looks at me hopefully.
When she first arrived, the curvy brunette human was skittish and shy. She never looked anyone in the eye, always trying to make herself disappear. A year and two mates later, nothing of that brittle woman remains. It’s a testament to her bravery and the power of Vandera’s calling spell.
Like all who hear the witch’s call, Delia was lost for one reason or another. The spell whispered of a new life on the breeze, and when she arrived at the edge of shifter territory, the wards repelling humans didn’t keep her out.
I would appreciate the beauty of her transformation more if the human in front of me would stop messing with my drinks. I’m convinced Fennik has given her free rein of the cocktail menu to torture me. Last week, it was blueberry-infused gin. I shudder at the memory. “And my usual lemon twist?”
Her body relaxes, and her full lips turn into a megawatt smile. “Boss! I’ve got you. There is a hint of citrus, but I added elderflower gin with a rose aroma for a more pleasant experience. This is one you’re going to like.” Delia watches eagerly as I take a sip.
I nod in recognition that it’s decent. It still doesn’t stop me from wishing it was the drink I ordered.
A deep rumble sounds near my ear, and the hair on the back of my neck takes flight, my heart stuttering at the sound.
“The child has come,” the deep voice whispers.
My eyes wrench shut. Pain slices through my heart and pleasure pumps through my veins, the dueling sensations at war. My mate. The man who isn’t mine.
I fight for air, practically choking as I call, “Thank you, Delia. It’s lovely.”
I wait until she dances off to serve a crowd of alphas down the bar, buying time to collect myself before I address Fennik.
“And?” I ask, my voice clipped of the raw emotions simmering in my throat.
His body heat blankets my back, his spicy amber-and-pine scent making my nipples tighten against the lace of my dress. My eyes prick and my throat spasms at the feel of him behind me, so close. The stupid, impossible desire to have him hold me traps me in its snare, making me wish for things that can’t be.
He speaks into my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck and sending a flare of longing to my chest. “She gave birth to an alpha, dragoness. Like the others,” he says, voice low enough to be drowned out by the thumping beat of the club music around us.
His words are jarring, forcing me to focus past my internal battle.
“She is the last?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
When he replies a moment later, I hear the devastation in his voice even though he tries to hide it. “The Morning Meadows Pack omega was the last known.”
“ Was ?” I gasp.
Fennik stiffens behind me, and it’s the only answer I need.
We have failed.
The wolves are going feral and dying out without mates, and the magic of the club is only a temporary solution for a permanent problem.
It has only taken a few generations for the omega birth rate to plummet to zero. Without their omega mates, the wolves are turning feral when they go into their natural mating rut cycle. Feral alpha wolves lose themselves to their moon madness and never recover. Their instincts force them to fight, fuck, and claim. Violently. It’s only a matter of time now before the wolves wipe themselves out.
It’s surreal that the birth of a child is the signal of the end of wolf shifters. It should be a time of blessing, but I can’t help but notice how similar it feels to all my other ends. I’m the last dragon, and I’ll watch the wolves die out until I’m the last of the great shifters. The crushing weight of the promise of an eternity alone tightens inside me.
An ear-splitting roar pulls me from my morose thoughts and toward the end of the bar. An alpha lunges for the rut companion in the cage, completely overtaken by the oncoming fury of his rut.
Just what this night needs—a feral to really kick off the end of the world.
The desperate alpha barely grasps onto the cage's metal, making it swing precariously above us. He shivers in an uncontrolled half shift that reveals yellow eyes and a foaming snout.
Not good.
Our newest rut companion clings to the far end of the cage, wide-eyed as the alphas closest to the scene howl. Feral wolves are venomous, their bites causing a poison to spread through the blood and block our magical healing. The feral scent and bites can turn other wolves too, then the whole bar could go moon-mad, sending them all into a rut that even Vandera’s magic can’t tame.
My dragon responds in kind, pissed off that the feral has scared our newest human. Before I’ve thought about shifting, a grey-and-white wolf darts from behind me and jumps from the bar.
Dammit. Fennik hardly ever lets me take out my claws.
The feral wolf senses Fennik’s attack and turns from the human, launching himself at Fennik with snapping jaws. They collide midair, tearing into one another as they fall to the stone floor behind the bar. It’s a blur of fang and fur that is over quickly. Fennik is a trained warrior, a fierce wolf, and the feral was lost to his rut.
The snap of the feral’s neck sends a new wave of howls, and two more from the crowd lose their humans to their wolves. Before we lose any more, I act. This time, it’s my claws and jaw around their necks. The blood tastes rancid, and I spit the sickness on the floor, my dragon fuming that I refuse to unleash her fully.
Around me, half the club guard works to subdue wolves with spelled sleeping darts while the others control the crowd.
“Delia,” I call over my shoulder.
If the world is ending again, I’m gonna need another drink.