Chloe Neill - Howling For You

Chicago, Illinois

Tension and magic filled the air like invisible smoke, swirling around us with the weight of ancient mysteries. We stared at each other across the small table like foes across a battlefield, weapons honed and at the ready.

But we werent enemies.

We just werent anything else, either, exactly.

Are you going to play sometime tonight? he said. I mean, if youre scared, I can give you a little more time.

You cant rush genius, I said, looking over the fan of cards in my hand at the man who sat across from me.

He was tall and lean with light brown hair long enough to tuck behind his ears or flop into his eyes. His eyes, blue and usually glazed with happiness, smiled back at me. He looked youngfresh-faced and eagerbut he had the skills of a warrior and the heart of a tiger. Quite literally.

Jeff Christopher was a shape-shifter and a member of my familys Pack, the North American Central.

I crossed one leg over the other, my skirt, tights, and dark boots not doing nearly enough to combat the chill in the air. Little Red, the bar where we played cards, was much beloved by the North American Central Pack. But it was old, dingy, and exceedingly cold.

Tonight we were nearly alone, except for my aunt Berna, who stood behind the bar furtivelyor so she thoughtreading Twilight for the fourteenth time, and the wail of Robert Johnson on the jukebox across the room. But the sun had barely set. Soon enough, more of the citys shape-shifters would fill the bar with leather, magic, and muscle.

I pulled the four of clubs from my hand and dropped it onto the first of three piles of cards on the table. Jeff glanced at it, then looked at me with calculation.

Problem? I asked.

I dont want to lose again. He grinned. My manly ego cant handle it.

Your manly ego doesnt care as long as I dont beat you at Jakobs Quest. That was his favorite video game. He was a master at it, as he was with most things related to tech.

True, he said. But were, what, twelve games to nine now?

Twelve to eight, I said, biting back a smile. And he wouldnt make it to nine, given the cards in my hand. But nice try.

He snorted, picked up the four, and stuffed it into his deck, then debated which card to give up. If he was picking up a foura basically useless cardhe must not have many options.

Jeff made his decision, dropping a three onto the table. It was a good choice; threes were even more useless than fours. But it still wouldnt be enough.

And now, I thought, its time to pull the trigger and put him out of his misery.

I slid a card from my hand, and placed it on the middle of the three piles with a snap of its corner.

I call the crown, I said with a grin, the ace of diamonds shining victoriously.

Shock flashed in his eyes; he hadnt known I held the acemuch less the ace of diamonds, the penultimate card in Call the Crown, a favorite game of the NAC.

Jeff looked up at me again, smile blooming. I was sure that thing was in the handmaiden deck.

It was. I pulled it in the third round.

His eyes brightened with amusement. He had such an innocently handsome face, but it belied his strength and passion. Like me, he was fiercely loyal to the Pack.

I was Fallon, the only daughter in the Keene family. Gabriel, the oldest, was Apex of the Pack. I was second oldest, and I was followed in age (and alphabet, because my mother had had a weird sense of humor) by Eli, Derek, Christopher, and Ben. Adam had once been the baby, but hed betrayed Gabriel, the family, and the Pack. He was no longer a Keene.

If anything happened to Gabriel, I was next in line for the crown. That made me the first possible female Apex in the history of the North American Central. Technically, Gabriels son, Connor, was the heir apparent. But he wasnt even a year old yet, and control of the Pack couldnt pass to an infant. For now, that made me the runner up.

It also made me the biggest shape-shifting prize in the country.

I put the rest of my cards on the table and gathered up my winnings. The tabletop, one of ten or fifteen around us, was etched with time and sticky with decades of beer and whiskey. It took two passes to collect the quarters wed anted.

And that makes thirteen, I said, sliding them into my jacket pocket.

Im pretty sure Ive won nine, Jeff said with a smile, pulling the rest of the cards into a tidy deck. Were still close. Nearly evenly matched.

Hed meant the cards . . . and us. The game in which wed both been pawns. My stomach tightened.

Im sorry, he said, reaching over and putting a hand over mine. He must have sensed my dismay.

The contact sent a jolt of magic and emotion through my body, that sense of belonging and familiarity that Jeff Christopher triggered with every touch and heartrending smile.

But he wasnt for me. And thats what it all came down to.

I pulled back my hand, glanced at my watch. No worries. But I should be going.

He tried for a smile, but it wasnt convincing. Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?

I have to meet someone, I said, and those few words were enough to make the cheer in his eyes fade away.

His doubt only lasted a moment; his eyes steeled with determination, and he settled them on me. Someone? he asked, but he didnt wait for me to answer. A potential mate, you mean.

The Pack believed every Apex needed a companion, a man or woman strong enough to help the Apex hold the Pack. Since I could one day be that Apex, it fell to my family to identify potential mates. A doomsday plan in dating form.

Brains and brawn were popular traits, but they werent the only qualifications. Each family of shape-shifters took a specific animal form. The Keenes were wolves, the same form as the first known shape-shifters, Romulus and Remus, and thus the most prestigious. Wolves were the First Animals of the First Pack.

The shifting was magical, but the form was all about genetics. And thats what it really came down to.

Jeff Christopher, brilliant and charming, was a beautiful and powerful animal: sleek fur; wide, predatory eyes; heavy paws; long, swishing tail.

Jeff was a tiger.

Pack protocolPack traditionsaid shifters who transformed into different animals shouldnt be together. Sure, some people ignored the rules. But those people werent members of the Apexs family, and they certainly werent second in line to the throne. I didnt have the luxury of rebellion.

Gabe and Jeff had been friends for some time. Id met him a few months ago. Gabe trusted and respected Jeff, who worked with Chuck Merit, a former cop whod been hired by a former mayor to help supernaturals in Chicago. Chuck Merits agency was no longer official, but Jeff and his sorcerer colleague, Catcher Bell, still volunteered to solve supernatural dilemmas.

Gabe hadnt stopped our friendship or complained about the time we spent together, believing wed drift apart eventually. And as each season passed, the number of potentials Gabe trotted in front of me increased. Jeff was good people. But there were rules.

The price of Jeff Christopher is too high, Gabriel was fond of saying. You cannot have him and the Pack both.

Jeff knew about the tradition; every shape-shifter did. I think hed hoped Gabriel would change his mind, or the Pack would. That hadnt happened. But cold, hard facts hadnt done anything to diminish the fiery spark between us.

Dont go, he said, slipping from his chair across the table to the one beside mine. His unique scent moved with himthe deep and heady aromas of jungle and his warm and velvety cologne. So did his magic. It was usually bright and almost cheerful, shining like ripples of sunlight across water. But the mood had darkened, and so had his magic, the power that electrified the air like the moment before a storm.