Crescent Kingdom (The Wolves of Crescent Creek, #1)

by Tessa Hale

AGE NINE

I’d learned to match the way people looked with their feelings. Because if I saw it before I felt it, I could sometimes make my shields stronger. But others, I wasn’t fast enough. Like now.

His hurt wanted to make a home in me, like I’d called to it in some way. But my mom always said I couldn’t let it in. That if I took on the world’s pain, it would drown me. So, instead, I hid that I could feel it all.

We hid a lot, Mom and me. Like what our real names were and who we were running from. Like the fact that I was half wolf and half caster. But most of all, that I couldn’t just take on the world’s feelings. I could heal them. Only if I wasn’t careful, that healing might make it so I never woke up again.

I clenched my hands, my fingernails digging into my palms. The pain helped sometimes. If I could give myself that, it would distract me from the hurt hitting my shields. But Billy was so sad. I didn’t know why. I never got the why. I just knew the emotion. Sometimes, I could even name it before the person experiencing it did.

“My Little Wren, listen to the song inside you. As long as you hear your voice, you’ll always be able to come back to yourself.” I heard the bah-bump, bah-bump, bah-bump of my heart. I listened to the song that was mine alone. And then the headache and pain in my chest began to ease.

I did what I always did. I searched for the reason. I was always trying to find the source. Because if I found that, maybe I could fix the feelings in another way—some way that wouldn’t end with me never waking up.

Mom had worked with me not only on my shields but also on how to hide my scent. The one that told other supes I was a hybrid. Because if they knew that, there was a chance they could tell my father. The person we were running from.

The word wasn’t a whisper, but it wasn’t a shout either. It was a demand. An order for this woman to tell me she was lying. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.” I hated her saying the words over again. I hated her sorries. And I despised her use of a name that wasn’t even mine. “We were able to locate your father. We know you haven’t seen him for some time, but he wants to be here for you now.” My spine snapped straight. Fear, thick and black, spread through me as I heard the soles of someone’s dress shoes clicking on the linoleum. No. No. No. I barely remembered my father. Quick snapshots. I mostly remembered my mother’s screams—the ones she let loose as he hit her. But Mom showed me his photo once a month. That, along with pictures of his closest enforcers. All the people I needed to know so I could run if I saw them.

His sad look was just as fake as the light above him. I knew it just by looking, but I could feel it, too—the sliminess pushing against my shields. Some part of me knew that if I let my protections down around this man, he would end me. His dark, almost-black hair gleamed under the false light. It was perfectly arranged, just like the suit he wore. Too perfect. His dark eyes cut to me. “Fleur.” My stomach cramped. I hadn’t heard that name in years. There were times I longed for it, craved to simply be myself again. But hearing it now? It didn’t fit. Not anymore.

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

She’s 24 now

I’d lived in at least a dozen different places in the eight years since I’d broken free of my father’s reign of terror. I’d painted elaborate lies for my past. But they added weight every time I told them. That could be part of the reason Crescent Creek had felt like home the minute I passed through its town limits. No one pushed. Maybe because those with secrets came here to hide. There were a handful of supernaturals: a couple of fox shifters, a witch, and even a griffin. But with my scent shields in place, none even gave me a second look.

“The body on that one.” “Fucking perfect,” Blondie agreed. “It’s too bad about her face.” Brown Hair chuckled. “I’d just take her from behind.” Anger coursed through me, the kind of rage I knew would take hours of sparring to work through. My fingers itched to move, to trace the scar running from the top of my forehead down my cheek. Even now, all these years later, I could still feel the bite of the blade, the white-hot pain as I screamed and begged for mercy. But there was none. Never at the hands of Bastian Boudreaux.

I’d only been in Crescent Creek for a little over a month, but Dina was observant. And her keen eye meant that even though she didn’t ask questions, she saw more than I likely wanted her to. Her gaze flicked to me, and then she went back to the money. “Give ‘em hell.” I chuckled and headed for the back door. “Thanks, D. Get home safe.” As I slipped outside, I glanced at where my beat-up navy hatchback was parked. Not that anyone would want to steal it—its condition was too crappy. But I liked knowing it was still there. Just in case I needed to escape. But I didn’t need to use the vehicle daily, thanks to Dina renting me the studio apartment above the bar for a steal. I could walk everywhere I needed to go. It wasn’t as if I went many places: the tiny grocery store a few blocks down, the woods behind the bar for a run in wolf form, and the gym.

Clyde ambled over in that stiff, limping walk he had—the gait of a fighter who’d reached his senior years. I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my lips as I took in his grizzled face. “Never. Just took longer to close up tonight.” Clyde pinned me with a stare. “Rowdy customers?” I’d never had a father. Not a real one, anyway—someone who cared about my well-being, happiness, and safety. I hadn’t had grandparents either. As far as I knew, Bastian’s parents were dead. And my mom never thought it would be safe for us to be in contact with hers. But there was something about Clyde’s gruff care and grandfatherly demeanor that made my chest ache in the most beautiful way.

I’d learned the hard way to carry everything I needed with me: my current fake ID, along with at least two others, enough cash to get me through a couple of weeks, and a spare set of clothes. Everything had to be ready so I could flee at a moment’s notice and transform. I’d had every hair and eye color under the sun but was currently back to my natural dark brown with blue eyes that almost looked turquoise in certain light. There was only one thing I never changed. My first name. It was an homage to my mother—the only piece of her I still carried with me. Because each time I heard someone call my name, I heard my mom’s voice in my head. “My Little Wren, listen to the song inside you. As long as you hear your voice, you’ll always be able to come back to yourself.”

Wren—24yrs old, hybrid 1/2 caster 1/2 wolf shifter, mom died when 9yrs old, escaped abusive father & his pack 8yrs ago, scar from father from forehead to chin, brown hair, blue almost turquoise eyes

Many female fighters sparred in shorts and bra tops. I didn’t have that option if I didn’t want to answer questions about the scars riddling my body, so I opted for leggings and a long-sleeved workout shirt. You could see a couple of the scars on my hands, but most people assumed I had been in a car accident of some sort. Because that made sense. No one would think my own father had inflicted the wounds. I punched up the speed as the memories tried to take hold. The burn of my muscles always helped, as did my refusal to be a victim any longer. If my father came for me again, he wouldn’t find a trembling little girl.

“Don’t hold back.” Clyde snickered. “Not sure you want to give her that kind of permission.” Warmth spread through me at Clyde’s words and his belief in me. He had no idea what sort of gift that was.

Crescent Kingdom was a mixed martial arts gym on the whole, but people here generally specialized in boxing or jiujitsu. I wanted to learn it all. To know everything I could use to defeat my opponent. Franco was training for a local MMA match a few towns over and was one of the fighters at the gym who could give me the best run for my money.

I should’ve known he’d realize what I was doing. He was too smart not to. I could never fight with my full shifter strength or speed in here, but I was holding back even the human part of me. Giving Franco what he wanted, I lunged forward. Using my petite size, I ducked under his swing and swept his legs out from under him.

KINGSTON

Wolf

the gym, I finally felt like I was home, unlike when I’d gotten to our pack lands or even our house. Crescent Kingdom had truly become my grounding place. Six weeks away from it was way too fucking long. It didn’t matter if it was for a mission to bring justice to countless souls. Or that we’d walked away with a whole new pile of cash lining our pockets. I hated being away for so long. Especially in the mountains of Siberia. It might be spring in Colorado, but it was the dead of winter there. And I was pretty sure the cold still lived in my bones.

Everything in me stilled as I took in the female. My wolf instantly rose, pressing against my skin, dying to break free. I took in a deep breath, letting her scent fill my lungs. Human. But somehow…different. That second thought had my wolf going on high alert. There was something about it. A wrongness.

Clyde chuckled. “You know what they say about all work and no play.” “This is my play.” That much was true. Creating a safe space for people to learn how to protect themselves and work through the worst things they’d been through had given me a purpose in my darkest hour. Clyde simply scoffed.

I mulled over Clyde’s words as I moved closer to the ring as if the woman had cast some sort of spell over me. Wren stiffened, something grabbing her attention just long enough for her gloves to drop. Franco hit her in the jaw—way too fucking hard for a sparring practice. As the woman hit the mat, Franco cursed, already crouching down. “Shit, Wren. I’m sorry. Just got caught up in the moment.” My strides ate up the distance in no time, and as I reached the edge of the practice ring, I leveled a glare at Franco. I knew my eyes had to be flashing, the silver that warned others I was a predator.

My wolf bristled. He was already on edge, wanting to rake his claws down the chest of the man who’d hurt his Little Warrior. His? Fuck. Was this a mating call? I’d felt them a time or two, the pull of attraction that meant someone could possibly be your mate. It wasn’t a guarantee, only a sign that you were compatible. The only certainty came from a true mating bond—the kind that showed itself the second you had skin-to-skin contact. It was said the bond sang through every nerve ending, and images of your future would flash. I reached for Wren’s elbow as she slid under the rope, trying to steady her. She stiffened instantly. I braced, waiting to feel the certainty, to see those images. But there was nothing. My wolf growled at the lack of it all. He wanted her to be his. And I sure as hell understood the disappointment.

Wren’s head lifted, revealing the full side of her face for the first time. I knew wounds. My brothers and I had received more than a few, so I knew how to recognize what had inflicted them. And this scar hadn’t been caused by shattered glass or some freak accident. It was from a blade. My wolf went rabid.

Anger? No, rage. It battered my invisible walls, making my head throb more. How could I have been so stupid? I knew better than anyone that letting your guard down for even a second could get you killed. Or, in this case, put you in the clutches of an overbearing wolf shifter

fresh mint and pine. And, God, I wanted to roll around in it.

I expected my wolf to lunge to the surface, dying to break free and run. Instead, I found she was…purring? Wolves didn’t purr. But that was the only way I could describe the sound emanating from her.

The other man’s light-blue eyes flashed silver.

“Come on,” Clyde pressed. “Get her some ice and Tylenol.” The man let out a low growl. “Who’s the boss around here?” Clyde chuckled. “Don’t worry. You still call the shots, but you’re also freaking Wren the fuck out right now. So, go get the goddamn ice.”

He wore a gray tee that loosely hugged planes of muscle and ghosted over broad shoulders. His dark jeans housed muscular thighs and were paired with scarred motorcycle boots. He was tall—so tall I had to look up, up, up to get to his face. And that face. It was devastatingly beautiful. Thick scruff covering an angular jaw. A nose with a hint of a bump that told me it had been broken before. Dark-brown hair. And eyes I wanted to drown in. They were the sort of light blue that could hold you captive.

Kingston—Alpha wolf shifter, light blue eyes flash silver, dark brown hair, thick scruff over angular jaw, so tall/6’5, muscled, fresh mint n pine scent, deep raspy tone, owner of gym n CEO of security office, protective, covered in ink: intricate designs played over his shoulders and pecs, ran down his ribs, and disappeared beneath his shorts

“Kingston. The owner of the gym. Been out of town working a job.” I stiffened. “He owns the gym?” Clyde nodded swiftly. “The gym and a security company. They work high-level stuff. So, he travels quite a bit. I man the shop when he’s gone.”

There was something about that lock. Specifically, the fact that it seemed to automatically engage anytime someone closed the door. That meant either something valuable was in the office or Kingston was hiding something.

My voice had grit to it now. Had it really been so long since I’d felt true attraction? Or maybe it was just touch-hunger at being this close to a male who was also a wolf. I was going with option two. It was the version that made me less of a lusty loony tune.

I met his stare head-on. “Taking unknown substances from someone I don’t know seems like a surefire way to end up chained in some creep’s basement.” Something passed over Kingston’s eyes, a shadow so dark it was deeper than night, pure black. A second later, it was gone. “Might’ve let distraction drop your guard, but at least you’re street-smart.” My back teeth ground together, making fresh pain flare in my jaw. “It was a momentary lapse. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m walking you home.” Kingston spoke the words as if they were final. I opened my mouth to argue, but Clyde cut me off. “Do me a favor, girlie, let the stubborn bastard walk you home. If you don’t, I’m gonna hear about it the rest of the night, and I don’t think these old bones can take it.” I pinned Clyde with a stare, but everything else in me softened. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, gramps.”

Clyde’s kind protectiveness meant more than he’d ever know. It was a rare and beautiful gift I’d never take for granted. “He gets a kiss on the cheek, and I get a glare?” Kingston asked, his tone hinting at amusement. “He’s looking out for me. You’re just an interfering Nosy Nelly,” I said, heading for the door.

“He shouldn’t have been sparring at full strength,” Kingston growled. Franco winced. “You’re right. Sorry, King.” Kingston jerked his head in a nod as he clapped Franco on the shoulder. “Learn from it.” I watched the interaction with curiosity. It was clear that Kingston was a dominant wolf. I could easily feel it in the air around him. And Franco was human. Kingston could’ve forced his submission in a dozen different ways but didn’t. That had a grudging respect sliding through me as I grabbed my bag.

“I’ll carry that.” I quickly snatched it back. “No. You won’t.” No one took my things, even if it was some misguided attempt at chivalry.

A muscle fluttered along Kingston’s jaw. “No. I just—you should make sure patrons don’t know that. It’s not safe.” I couldn’t help seeking out those light-blue eyes as I turned the doorknob. “Trust me, I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” That had a different sort of awareness settling into Kingston’s features. “All right.” “Which means you don’t have to follow me inside. I’m not getting kidnapped between here and my door.” I expected a lip twitch or another of those chuckles, but Kingston didn’t give me either. “Just give me this, Little Warrior. Let me walk you to your door.”

Dina always left a few lights on to illuminate my path. The soft glow was a sort of welcome home—the only kind I would get without any family or a mate, not even a pet to give me a purr or bark. So, I’d hold on to those particles of light the best I could.

Kingston’s gaze roamed my face, lingering on each feature as if memorizing them. “Good.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. He slid out a business card that looked expensive—thick card stock, embossed lettering—and held it out to me. “Call me if you need anything.” I stared at the card like it was a snake. And maybe it was. Still, I took it. Staring down at the letters, I read: Crescent Kingdom Security, C.E.O. My gaze lifted to his. “Thanks.” I knew that was the best route to getting him gone. If I protested, he’d only linger. “You’re not going to use it, are you?” I shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to see.” One corner of his mouth pulled up. “I guess so.”

A deep loneliness settled in. The kind I rarely let take hold. But I couldn’t do anything to fight it off. Because I was alone. And, thanks to my father, I always would be.

KINGSTON

I stared at the door for far too long. That flimsy piece of wood wouldn’t do a damn thing to keep me out. But Wren’s need for safety and security and her need to put space between us would. My wolf snarled at the thought. He didn’t understand those human needs. He wanted to take her back to our territory and make sure she was safely ensconced within our borders. But he also wanted to claim her. That was new.

he’d never wanted anyone with any sort of permanence. And a claiming was pretty damn permanent. The kind of forever that spanned lifetimes.

My human half wasn’t much better. I’d wanted to lean in and sniff Wren, press my nose to the nape of her neck, pull the scent of wildflowers and rain into my lungs, and never let go.

The distance was almost physically painful—the kind of agony I’d expect from a true mating bond. Only we hadn’t shared that connection. Nothing more than attraction had zinged through my veins when I touched Wren. And I hadn’t seen any glimpses of our future. I shook my head. Maybe it had simply been too long since I’d taken a woman to bed. I thought about reaching out to a she-wolf friend a few towns over, but the idea had my wolf snarling. He wanted Wren and Wren only, and my human half agreed.