Chapter ONE

Tipton, Massachusetts

ON A NIGHT when only the thinnest sliver of a crescent moon rode the sky, at a time when even the most adventurous humans had fallen into bed and succumbed to sleep, a solitary cat padded in and out of pooled shadow as he made his way across the deserted square in the middle of town. He was large, the size of a bobcat, with sleek fur the color of jet. His coat shimmered as he moved, gleaming in the dull glow of streetlights in between shadows, and he moved with speed and grace, if not purpose. Eyes that burned like blue embers stayed focused on the path ahead of him.

The cat had gone by several names in his long life. For more than a century now, he had been simply Jaden, or even more simply, “cat.” If pressed, he would answer to either, and neither if he could get away with it.

Tonight, in the night’s seductive and silent embrace, Jaden answered to no one but himself.

Jaden took his time as he made his way through town, savoring the stillness of the blessed lack of humanity with all its noise and emotion and complication. He paused in front of the darkened windows of a beauty salon, letting his gaze drift over the sign that read, CHARMED, I’M SURE, and then lifted his head higher to catch the scent of air that was heavy with moisture and ripe with the promise of rain. Jaden could sense that summer was making its way to this little corner of New England, while aware that even in early May the frost could arrive on any given night to give the season’s fresh blooms a deadly kiss.

Deadly kisses, Jaden thought, lashing his tail. Yeah, he knew all about those. When you were a vampire, especially a lowly shape-shifting cat of a vampire, deadly kisses were sort of your stock in trade.

Damn it. So much for a late-night walk to clear his head.

The shift came as easily as breathing to him, and in a single heartbeat Jaden stood on two feet instead of four, his clothes firmly in place by some magic he had never understood but always appreciated. He stuffed his hands deeply into the pockets of his coat and continued on down the street, glaring at the ground in front of him as he moved. Though he’d spent years seething silently at the Ptolemy, his highblood masters who had treated “pets” like him with little mercy and even less respect, these days he didn’t seem to have much anger for anyone but himself.

Jaden now had what he’d always thought he wanted: friends, a home, and most important, his freedom. The Ptolemy were not gone, but they were cowed for the time being, and his kind, the much-maligned Cait Sith, had been chosen for an incredible honor. They were to be the foundation for the rebirth of a dynasty of highbloods that had vanished ages ago but had now resurfaced in the form of a single mortal woman who carried the blood.

The seven months since Jaden had helped that woman, Lily, make a stand against the Ptolemy had passed like nothing. And though it had been considerably less time since the Vampiric Council had given Lily’s plan its grudging blessing, Jaden was now really and truly free. Whether it had been a wise decision, Jaden couldn’t say. The Cait Sith were an unruly lot at best.

But he was grateful, as were the rest, which had to count for something.

Jaden rubbed at his collarbone without really being aware that he was doing it. There, beneath layers of clothing, was his mark, the symbol of his bloodline. Until recently, the mark had been a coiling knot of black cats. But a drink of Lily’s powerful blood had changed it, adding the pentagram and snake of the Lilim. It meant new abilities he was still exploring, newfound standing in a world where he had always been beneath notice. It should have meant hope, Jaden knew. After all, for the first time in his long life, he was not a pariah. He could be his own master. It should be everything. And yet…

The empty places inside him still ached like open wounds. Something was missing. He just wished he knew what it was.

A soft breath of wind ruffled through his hair, and Jaden caught a whiff of something both familiar and unfamiliar.

Then he heard the voices.

“There’s no place to run to now, is there?” That was a gravelly male voice, reeking of self-satisfaction. Its owner gave a low and vicious chuckle. “You’re going to have to accept me. I’ve caught you. It’s my right.”

A female voice responded, and a pleasant shiver rippled through Jaden’s body at the low, melodious sound of it.

“You have no rights with me. And chasing me down like prey isn’t going to get you what you want.”

He was almost certain he’d heard that voice before, though he couldn’t place it. What Jaden could place, however, was the scent that had his hackles rising and the adrenaline flooding his system.

Werewolves.

Jaden’s lips curled, and he had to fight the instinctive urge to hiss. Not only were the wolves vilified by vampires as savages, banned from their cities under penalty of death, but the smell of their musk caused a physical reaction in him that was difficult to control. He had two options: fight or flight. It was less trouble to run. But this was his territory now, vampire territory. And these wolves had a hell of a lot of nerve coming into it.

Jaden was moving before he could think better of it. His feet made no sound on the pavement as he headed for the parking lot behind the building. And as he slipped into shadow, he listened.

“You can make this easy or hard, honey. But you’re going to have me one way or the other. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

A low growl from the female. A warning. “I’m not about to take a backseat to some social-climbing stray. I don’t want a mate.”

The male’s voice went thick and rough, as though he was fighting a losing battle with the beast within. “My family is plenty good enough to mate with an Alpha. You should be glad it’s me, Lyra. I won’t be as rough as some. And you and I both know there’s no way the pack is ever going to have a female Alpha. There’s too much at stake to let the weak lead.”

Lyra… The pieces clicked into place, and Jaden’s stomach sank like a stone.

He did know her. And that brief meeting had put him in one of the fouler moods of his unnatural life.

Memories surfaced of a Chicago safe house, full of vampires in hiding, in trouble, or on the run. And on the occasion he remembered, it had also been a hiding place for a female werewolf with a sharp tongue and a nasty attitude. Rogan, the owner of the safe house, had mentioned something about Lyra being a future Alpha… right after Jaden had demanded she leave the room.

Lyra had gone, though she hadn’t taken the slight quietly. And now, she was here, in the seat of the Lilim. It was almost inconceivable. Jaden wondered briefly if Lyra hadn’t hunted him here to finish their brief altercation with blood. That would be like a werewolf, brutish and nonsensical. But no, Jaden realized as she and the male who was accosting her came into view. Lyra seemed to have bigger problems than any grudge she bore him.

Jaden kept to the shadows, melting into darkness as effectively as he did in his feline form. He now had a clear view of a tall, over-muscled Neanderthal who was wearing the expected smug sneer. A predator. Being one himself, Jaden had gotten very good at identifying others. Lyra he saw only from behind, but he would have known her anywhere. Long, lean, and tall, with a wild tangle of dark hair shot through with platinum and tumbling halfway down her back. He let his eyes skim the length of her, suddenly apprehensive… hoping that his reaction to her the last time had been some kind of sick fluke. It had been easy enough to dismiss then. Being under constant threat of annihilation could do strange things to a man. But he knew it had fueled his anger at her presence in the safe house.

And now, just as before, the sight of her sent desire cascading through him in a wild rush like no other woman had provoked in him.

Jaden’s sudden arousal mingled with a punch of bloodlust, creating a tangled mix of wants and needs that had his breath beginning to hitch in his chest. He moved slowly, walking the increasingly fine edge between man and beast as he struggled to stay concealed. He remembered more than just his brief meeting with her, no matter how he’d tried to block it all out. He’d had dreams… bodies tangled together, biting, clawing… licking…

Appalled, Jaden told himself he couldn’t truly want a werewolf. Apart from being forbidden by both races, it was just wrong. Wasn’t he screwed up enough?

It was a relief when the Neanderthal provided a distraction from his thoughts. The male moved like lightning, and far more gracefully than his bulky form would suggest. A hand shot out, snatching something from around Lyra’s neck. The werewolf dangled the item in front of her, and Jaden could see it was a silver pendant hanging from a leather cord. She tried to snatch the pendant back, but the male held it high above his head like a schoolyard bully.

“How dare you?”

“It’s just an old necklace,” he said with a smirk. “If you want it that badly, come and get it.”

Jaden could hear the helpless outrage in her voice when she spoke.

“My father—”

“Isn’t here right now, is he? No one is.” The Neanderthal shifted, crooked a finger at her. His stance said he knew he’d won. “I’ve got a hotel room. Or we can do it right here. Your choice.”

His grin was foul. She seemed to think so too.

“Like hell, Mark.”

Lyra’s muscles tensed. She was going to run. What choice did she have? But the other man knew it. And while she might be fast, there was no way she would be able to match his strength.

Jaden hissed out a breath through gritted teeth. He was no hero. He might be nothing more than a lowblood vampire, a gutter cat with a gift for the hunt, but even among his kind, there were unspoken rules. And something in Lyra’s voice, the hopeless outrage of someone railing against a fate they knew was inevitable, struck a chord deep within him. He had spent centuries being pushed and pulled by forces he couldn’t fight. No one had ever given a damn what he had wanted, not from the first.

Gods help him with what he was about to get tangled up in.

Lyra spun, leaping away with a startling amount of grace. The man she’d called Mark lunged almost as quickly. His hand caught in all the glorious hair, fisting so that her head snapped back. Jaden heard her pained cry, heard the man’s roar of victory. Then Mark’s hands were on her, grabbing, tearing…