On the hunt, p.1
On the Hunt, page 1
ON THE HUNT
CITY SHIFTERS: THE PACK
LAYLA NASH
Copyright © 2021 by Layla Nash
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
Cover design by Resplendent Media.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
70. Epilogue
Connect with Layla
Also by Layla Nash
CHAPTER 1
JINX
The nice thing about tattooing someone who was already mostly ink was that he didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, hardly even moved as I worked the design into his skin. The problem with the one in my chair was that he wasn’t entirely human, so his skin healed up too fast for the ink to settle the right way. Add in that the magic I worked into the ink made it slipperier than normal ink, and I needed all my patience. Having someone high-strung or jumpy in the chair would have been a disaster.
I didn’t look up at the guy as I leaned close and whispered to the magic, getting the ink to play nice so I could form the next letter of the name he wanted tattooed over his heart. “Who’s Persephone? Other than the chick who got kidnapped by Hades?”
“My girl,” the big dude said, his hard features unyielding. Not exactly unfriendly, just... indifferent. Normally guys in my chair tried to look at my tits or brush their arm against the sideboob while I was contorted around to get the best angle, but not this dude. It was a nice change.
I grunted. It was the worst idea ever to get someone’s name tattooed on you, especially with magic. It was bad enough to get a boyfriend or wife or whoever permanently on your skin, but to jam it in there with magic, too... It was just asking to screw things up. Like an auto-jinx. I shook my head. “No discount when you come back for a cover-up.”
“That won’t be needed.” His gaze drifted to my face, maybe to the rings that stacked up along my ear or the one in my nose, and a hint of a smile made him look younger and less intimidating. “She’s mine forever.”
“That’s usually only the case with mamas and daughters,” I said under my breath. “But whatever floats your boat, man.”
Something relaxed in his eyes and an almost dreamy look crossed his expression. “She’s having my baby. Might be a daughter. Could be a boy. Either way, I’ll be back for their name, too.”
I smiled a touch, too, since it was sweet in a completely impractical way. Every tattoo artist knew you didn’t get a name on you unless you were prepared to eventually laser it off or cover it up. And neither of those was really an option with the kind of tattoos I did for dudes like that—with magic in the ink; they carried a little charm for protection or strength or whatever they came in looking for. And you couldn’t get it back out again with just a laser. Even with a magical removal—for which I charged almost literally an arm or a leg—there was always some residue, a ghost of a charm lingering in the skin.
This guy, Dodge, had come in looking for Persephone on his chest, over his heart, charged with a tracker spell and a protection charm. All focused on her. Sweet, but totally impractical. Something about it being a way to always find her when she needed him. It tied his health to hers, so he could feel if she was ever sick or injured or afraid. And he’d asked about making a link, if she got his name, so that all she had to do was think a message at him and have it reach him. I’d never done something that difficult, though the challenge appealed to me and definitely had me thinking about what books I’d need to reference in order to design something like that.
I wasn’t the kind of witch to turn down complicated work, though, not when I didn’t advertise my particular set of skills. I didn’t know how Dodge found out about me, but he’d said the magic words when he called for an appointment. I kept the shop open late for private customers, like him, so no one else was around to sense the static that charged the air as I worked a spell into and over the ink.
Normally I worked sigils or runes for people, or some kind of design that had meaning for them. It was the best way to adhere the magic and the intent of the spell, when the whole thing had meaning. I hadn’t done fancy lettering for a while, so I had done up a stencil instead of trying to freehand it. A dude that big... I wasn’t about to piss him off with an oopsie on his girl’s name.
Once I got through the tricky bit, reinforcing the protection spell on the ink as the charm slid and swiveled away from the tattoo gun, I exhaled and adjusted how I leaned against his side, planting my elbow in his chest to steady my hand. “When’s she due?”
“Couple of months,” he said. He hardly breathed, watching me from just a foot away, and his brown-gold eyes made my skin prickle. He even had fresh breath and good teeth, something else my typical clientele lacked.
Definitely not human, but not a witch. Something else. Maybe fae? I shook the feeling off. “Congrats.”
He grunted and watched my progress in silence. Not the talkative type, then. Thank the stars. I’d had a bunch of frat boys in the shop earlier that day, getting some bullshit tattoos to celebrate someone’s birthday or graduation or losing their V card... Who the fuck knew. They got matching Greek letters and hooted a lot, some of them drunk enough I should have turned them away. Since the shop wasn’t exactly legal to start with, it wasn’t like I had a license to lose. They’d found an online review that I’d done my damnedest to have removed, but the damage was done. I expected the health and safety inspectors to show up any minute.
I exhaled hard enough to flip my hair out of my eyes. It had been a long fucking day.
“What kind of name is Jinx?” he asked, head tilted with an oddly predatory cast.
My heart thumped but I shoved the instinctive fear away at being tracked by something that big and strong and maybe murderous. Perhaps an animal, one of the werewolves I’d heard rumors about lately but hadn’t bothered to investigate. “Supposed to be the kind of name that doesn’t invite questions, but you know what they say about curiosity and cats.”
I gave him a dark look and he laughed hard enough I had to sit back so I didn’t fuck up the ‘h.’
“Not a cat,” he said. “But point taken.”
“What are you, then?” I stretched my back, since he’d jostled me out of my concentration anyway. I rotated my head until my joints cracked and sighed. I much preferred tattooing this guy, whatever he ended up being, instead of rowdy frat boys who wanted to cop a feel or rub their hard-on against me like they thought I wouldn’t notice. It had taken all of my strength of will—and the rule of three—to stop from driving hexes under their skin. “If not a cat.”
“Not something we talk about,” he said, his tone gentler than I would have expected from a dude his size with the ink from multiple mercenary companies and the scars to match. But his eyes flashed even more gold and I knew for sure he was a shifter of some kind. One of the werewolves.
I shook my head and leaned like I needed to check the window at the front of the shop. “Should I be worried it’s almost a full moon?”
He grinned and his canine teeth were just a touch too long for normal. “Not how it works, but you should stay on your toes.”
“Sure.” I wasn’t worried. He wouldn’t have called asking for the ‘special’ if he didn’t already know that I was a magic-handler of some kind, so he knew not to piss me off. Or so I hoped. Normally I didn’t care who referred new clients, but I was curious how one of the animals heard about me. I’d paid my bills off various fae wanting protection spells and charms for the last few years, and moved cities when I ran out of business—or too much interest dru mmed up and surrounded me. Witches typically didn’t do well among big gatherings of humans.
Dodge flexed his massive chest and settled back in the chair, nodding for me to get started again. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got some referrals to send your way. Some of my friends are interested in more ink but regular artists have trouble with our... special properties.”
Special properties. I snorted and shook my head as I leaned back over his chest and wiped the ink off the “Perseph” on his chest. He’d also asked for a couple of flowers and vines around it, although he hadn’t given me much to work with. Something about her being an architect working with plants.
Even though a guy like that—who dropped serious money for the magical ink—probably had enough referrals to keep my shop afloat for another couple of years, I wasn’t about to become the artist of choice for the animals. They were too unpredictable. Just because this one could behave didn’t mean I wanted to invite a whole pack of crazy into my life. There was enough of that as it was.
Plus, if they were all built like Dodge, I’d be tempted to go home with one. Or two. Maybe three. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something stupid and shook my head. “Better if you lost my information, man. I won’t be here much longer.”
“You got somewhere to be?”
It sounded like an innocent question, but for witches and other magical beings, there were no innocent questions. And people wanting to know when you planned to pull up stakes usually meant trouble. That meant they wanted to stop you from leaving or hustle you out the door faster so they could take all your stuff. So I shrugged and started thinking of how fast I could untangle myself and get the fuck out of the city on my own terms. “Nowhere in particular.”
“Good. A couple of my friends are interested in...”
I tensed as a small alert ward on the front door pinged and filled the back room with a red haze. I was almost certain I’d locked up after Dodge arrived. Dodge looked around, all of him seeming to grow and take up more room: no doubt prepared for battle. I frowned at him and shook my head, listening for the reaction of the ward. It wasn’t a strong thing or meant to keep people out; it was just there to give me enough time to run or prepare a defense.
The red tinge to the air shifted and darkened, indicating someone with magic. I breathed a little easier; at least it wasn’t the cops or the Better Business Bureau looking to check my license. I waved at the big dude to stay in the chair as I called, “Coming,” and shoved to my feet.
I snapped off my gloves after setting the gun aside and gave him a dark look when Dodge looked like he meant to charge through ahead of me. Overprotective shifter. Not surprising. Definitely not one of the cats, although he didn’t look like a bear. I’d heard rumors of both in the city and spotted a few of them in the wild. Not that I’d gotten close enough to confirm it. They weren’t supposed to know about witches or our kind of magic, and yet Dodge showed up from somewhere...
Out in the waiting room, a tall twitchy dude lingered near the front door. I raised my eyebrows as I took him in. I would have dismissed him as homeless if he hadn’t stank of magic. He wore poorly fitting clothes and reeked, though he held out a wad of cash. “I need a tattoo.”
“I’m all booked up, mate.” I didn’t get closer and I sure as hell didn’t take his money. “I’m not taking referrals right now. Try again on the next full moon.”
I folded my hands behind my back. If he was still sane, he’d understand the gesture as how witches prepared to hex whoever pissed them off. It was aggressive—more aggressive than I typically wanted to be with an unknown. But that guy gave me seriously creepy vibes and I wasn’t interested in ever seeing him in my shop again. All the more reason to pull chocks and get the fuck out of town.
The man shook white-gray, greasy hair out of his eyes and watched me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. “I can pay. It is a small tattoo. A charm. It is... imperative.”
A small tattoo. They always claimed it was small magic, some insignificant thing. Easily done. Quickly done. I held my breath and hoped that Dodge kept his ass in the back. I didn’t need him knowing any more of my business, or scaring the dude off before I was ready for him to be scared off. “What charm?”
He held out a thin scrap of tissue paper, his fingers trembling. I pointed at the coffee table and he set it down. I glanced at the shape and my stomach turned over. Deflective, not protective. Most of the people who wanted permanent magical tattoos were interested in luck, strength, or protection. This guy... wanted people to overlook him. To not see him, to ignore him, to look the other way.
I pretended to consider it, using a pen to turn the paper over to study the reverse of the design he’d provided. He shuffled closer and my skin prickled. For a wild moment, I considered calling for Dodge to come out as a distraction so I could fucking bolt. The new guy—reeking of magic but not a type of witch I’d run across before—breathed through his mouth as his wild eyes stared at me. “You can do it. Just a small one. It’s important.”
“All ink is important,” I said, trying to smile. I stepped back and put my hands behind me again, though I backed up to the side of the room where I had a few magical alarms and weapons prepared. Just in case. I’d learned my lessons the hard way. “But now isn’t the time for this sort of thing. It’ll need a different moon. Couple of days, man.”
His eyes narrowed and something crackled in his aura. Like he wanted to flex on me. Like he expected to inflict his will on me, to convince me to do what he wanted.
Well, the joke was on him. I’d learned long ago how to be like water—go with the flow. Avoid obstacles, fit myself to the places where I needed to be, eventually get to my destination even if I had to wear down a mountain. Whatever the hell he was, he wasn’t a match for me. But I still smiled, because I hadn’t gotten my nickname by chance. “Come back on Saturday. Moon’ll be right.”
“You could do it now,” he breathed. He reached out, like he meant to grab my wrist. “I have the power. We can do it together.”
“Not how I work.” There wasn’t enough money in the world to convince me to share power with that guy. “It’s four grand. You can show up Saturday at the witching hour if you want the ink. Otherwise... blessed be.”
I flicked my fingers behind my back and used a hint of power to trigger a tiny little spell on the door. It was a jinx, a little baby hex that would inconvenience the shit out of the guy and subconsciously work on convincing him to never look for me again. It had worked against guys a hell of a lot scarier than the mumbling hobo in front of me. Even if his aura had some warning signs that I would have heeded under normal circumstances.
Maybe having a mountain of werewolf muscle in the back room made me crazier than normal.
The hobo eyed me and drew himself up to his full height, managing to look almost regal despite his twitching and picking at his arms. I kept the fake smile on my face as I reached back for something stronger than just a jinx. Just in case.
CHAPTER 2
TODD
Todd Evershaw, second-in-command of the most dysfunctional wolf pack he’d ever known, paced the length of the room and rubbed his temples. He needed a vacation. A long vacation. Far, far away from his cousin and the rest of the SilverLine pack. Including the subordinate pack, RedCloud, and its inexperienced but still really fucking cocky alpha.
