Chapter 1
JAX
Digger’s Diner is pumping tonight.
Tippy is at the counter, handing out pints of frothy beer and bright green smoothies, her pointed ears flicking as she laughs and flirts with the monsters that line the bar.
They all gawk at her.
I don’t blame them.
She’s looking super cute in her white shirt with the hot pink Digger’s insignia, and a short black skirt that shows off her shapely legs.
Bright red pixie-cut hair frames her pointed face, and her pretty mouth exposes a perfect row of small white teeth as she laughs. Her huge amber eyes sparkle happily.
How dare she look happy?
I haven’t been in here for two weeks. Damn it, she should be watching the fucking door, waiting for me to walk through it.
Pining for me.
But she didn’t even acknowledge me as I strolled nonchalantly past, my hands in the pockets of my black denim jeans.
I’m heading toward the bar when my inner wolf growls, Don’t even think about it.
Think about what? I thought-beam back.
Groveling.
I’ve no intention of groveling, asshole.
Yeah, you’re thinking about it, my wolf snorts. Whenever it does that, I have the urge to sneeze.
“Don’t interfere,” I mutter under my breath, hitching my butt onto a stool at the end of the bar.
You’re so fucking pussy whipped, my wolf mutters.
Truth is, my wolf is pissed that I’m here. It’s been doing its best to keep me away from Tippy these past couple of weeks, giving me dizzy spells and headaches every time I’ve tried to make contact with her. Having the fucker sneering at me now is not helping the situation.
Since I shifted, my wolf’s presence has been getting more insistent. It’s like it’s taking up more real estate in my body.
The truth is, I wasn’t expecting to shift.
It was a complete shock, to be honest. Maybe I’d become complacent, believing it might never happen.
After all, it’s been three years since I got bitten.
But then, out of the blue, I had to rescue my sister Clem from a human spy who’d abducted her from the Labyrinth and taken her back to Sparkle City.
Otis Cane, our orc sheriff (who happens to be in love with Clem), insisted on joining me in the rescue operation. And that’s when things turned pear-shaped. Because monsters aren’t allowed to leave the Labyrinth, and an angry green orc with huge tusks was undeniably a monster, right?
I had no say in what happened next. The guards were about to shoot Otis and my sister. Instinct took over. I turned into a feral silver wolf, and herded the human scumbags into a corner as Otis escaped with Clem. Somehow, we all got safely back to the Labyrinth.
Only trouble was, I passed out from the shock of my virgin shift, and I’ve been recuperating ever since. Meanwhile, the news has leaked that Jax Summers is a werewolf.
And word is, Tippy is none too pleased with me for keeping that minor detail secret for the past three years.
Here’s the problem. Tippy is a vixen shifter. and vixen shifters don’t like werewolves.
Worse, Tippy is a wixen, which means she’s also part witch.
Wixens are the most anti-wolf of all their species.
I still don’t understand the complexity of their intertwined history with werewolves, but I know it’s got something to do with a race between wixens and wolf mages to decipher the runes that could ultimately save the Labyrinth.
As if to prove the point, my inner wolf jeers, She’s just an airhead wixen. Don’t waste your time.
“Just—shut—the—fuck—up,” I growl back.
Amazingly, it does. But I don’t trust it when it goes quiet. No doubt it’s waiting for the next opportunity to stir up shit.
I watch Tippy longingly as she leans over the counter and smiles at some damn fucking centaur who I’ve seen here before.
Larry Knockballs, if I remember rightly.
Tippy places a green smoothie in front of the centaur, who flexes an arm to show her his muscled bicep.
I can hear him boasting, braying on about her smoothies giving him strength and stamina.
Blah, blah, fucking blah…
Same old story. All the monsters who come to Digger’s have the hots for Tippy. I know I’ve got competition. But she hasn’t ever dated any of them, as far as I know. And I guess I would know, because we’ve hung out together a fair bit over the past three years.
I’m just about to announce my presence when a burly gnome pushes past me, sits down next to the centaur and challenges him to an arm wrestle. I stifle a stab of annoyance as they get Tippy to score them. She gives them both an eight out of ten with a little smirk.
“What! C’mon, mine’s bigger,” the centaur grumbles.
“Sometimes the best things come in small packages.” Tippy winks at the gnome, who colors up to his green hair follicles. The bastard can’t keep his little black eyes off her.
I grit my teeth and lean over the bar.
“Tippy,” I say in my most gravelly voice. “Can I order a drink?”
“Oh!” She pretends to startle. Her amber eyes pop as she turns toward me. “Jax Summers. Didn’t see you there.”
Why do I sense she’s lying?
I ruffle a hand through my thick dark hair and place an elbow nonchalantly on the bar. “Missed me?” I drawl.
Her brows arch and her little nose tilts, giving her a haughty look that doesn’t bode well.
“Nothing to miss.” She shrugs.
Inside, I deflate like a popped balloon, but I brace my shoulders, grin stupidly. My wolf growls deep in my belly. I ignore it.
“Yeah, well,” I smirk, “guess you’ve heard, then.”
“Heard what?”
“That I, erm, shifted two weeks ago.”
“Oh, that—yeah, maybe I did.” She sniffs.
Her indifference miffs me. I try for a nonchalant tone. “Been recovering these past couple weeks, it really fucked me up for a while, being the first time, and under dangerous circumstances.” I pause, but she says nothing, so I finish lamely, “Hence why I haven’t been at Digger’s for a while.”
Tippy places her hands on the counter and huffs an impatient sigh. “What d’you want to drink, Jax?”
I glance down at her nails—amend that—claws. They lengthen and flex on the counter, sparkling silver. I’d like to reach out and touch her hand, ask her to forgive me for keeping my wolf status a secret, but I’m pretty sure I’d get scratched.
“A flax beer, thanks,” I drawl.
“Midi or schooner?”
“Schooner.”
She huffs again and pivots away.
When she comes back, the golden liquid is bubbling over the side of the glass. “You know wolves don’t respond well to flax, don’t you?” She stares at me, unblinking, unsmiling.
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Yep, gives them terrible flatulence.”
“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”
“Just keep your distance from me, is all.”
“I haven’t had the chance to do anything else of late,” I grumble. Then, plucking up my courage, I ask gruffly, “Could we, erm, meet up after you finish work?”
Her mouth opens as if she might say yes, then her brows snap down over her beautiful eyes. “Too busy to waste my time with losers,” she mutters. It’s low, under her breath, but my wolf’s powerful hearing picks it up.
Don’t let her treat you like that, it sneers.
This time a flash of anger makes me comply with my wolf. I curl my lip. “Loser, eh? I think many would disagree with that right now.”
She gives a little grunt, turns away, then turns back.
“Well, liars are losers in my book. And so are wolves.”
“I thought you were wiser than that. Why are you holding on to a stupid ancient grudge?” I mutter.
She leans on the bar so we’re eye to eye and my heart hitches as her long lashes flutter over her golden irises.
“It’s because I’m wise that I do,” she purrs, baring her teeth in a parody of a smile.
I’m about to respond when a griffin calls out, “Tippy, two energizer shots please,” and she straightens, tosses her head and sashays off to the other end of the bar, leaving me with my foaming beer and the sudden prospect of farting if I drink it.
I take two sips.
Something growls deep in my stomach. Not sure if it’s my wolf or my intestines, I put the glass down.
Things have changed a lot in my body since I shifted.
Certain foods don’t appeal, and I sometimes get the urge to drop down on all fours and run everywhere instead of walking.
My vision, my hearing, and my sense of smell are heightened to the point where it can almost be unbearable.
Worse, I keep checking for a tail I don’t have, because I can feel the fucker, right there at the base of my spine.
Right now, that tail wants to swish in frustration. I look across at Tippy, her cute little tits straining at the buttons of her shirt. The tantalizing way her tail swishes through the slit in the back of her skirt is enough to drive me crazy.
My wolf grunts. Don’t know what you see in her.
“Didn’t ask your opinion,” I mutter under my breath.
I take another mouthful of beer. Conceal a burp.
Not cool.
I push the glass away. Time to go—unless I want to humiliate myself further.
I contemplate calling out a casual farewell as I leave, gifting Tippy the lopsided grin that always used to make her eyes light up.
But she’s not looking at me. Instead, she’s laughing at something that goofy centaur just said.
I brace my shoulders, stick my hands in my pockets and saunter out, trying to look like I don’t give a fuck.
Except I do. I’m pissed to the max. With Tippy, and with my fucking argumentative wolf. And with my pathetic human psyche. Why can’t I bring myself to say to her, “Can we talk this through? Get back to being friends like we used to be?”
Not that our friendship had been heading in the direction I’d hoped, even before I shifted.
The dating direction, I mean.
These past few years, we’ve mostly bantered and squabbled.
I made it my job to be rude to Tippy, and she was rude right back, particularly about my smoking habit.
She’d force her ghastly potions on me to get me to quit, and I’d grumble and groan and make a great show of being coerced into drinking them.
It was fucking childish, really.
But at least back then we looked at each other, deeply and often. And maybe our eyes said everything our words couldn’t.
And sure, I should have told her sooner about my werewolf status, but I guess I knew it would scupper my chances.
And I was right, wasn’t I? Tippy barely gave me the time of day, as if I was an unpleasant smell under her cute little nose.
I leave Digger’s, my shoulders braced against the sound of Tippy’s laughter. I have to face the fact that my life is only going to get tougher from here on.
Soon I will be undertaking the most dangerous mission of my life. Risking everything to save the monsters of the Labyrinth.
And it seems that the girl I care about doesn’t give a shit whether I live or die.