Page 1 of Hunted Ink

Chapter 1

Kedi

There was a knock on the door, and as I got up from the sagging couch to answer it, Ricky griped, “That’d better be the pizza we ordered, or I’m raiding your fridge.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” I muttered with a snort. I knew for a fact that the only food in the fridge was a container of coconut yogurt, a bag of spinach, and a half-empty jug of oat milk with a line drawn on the side in marker to show how much was left, and they were all clearly labeled with a sticker that said NORMAN. They were also the kinds of foods a vegetarian ate, which the members of my pack were decidedly not.

Even before I opened the door, I knew it wasn’t the pizza, but the familiar scent I picked up had me smiling all the same. “How’s my favorite itty-bitty jaguar?” I asked, ignoring my human best friend in favor of the baby he carried. Wick gave me a gummy smile, showing off his brand-new teeth poking through, and reached for me with those pudgy dimpled fingers of his. I pulled him into my arms, his sturdy weight settling against me. I gave noisy kisses into the crook of his neck where he was most ticklish, and his giggles were everything. Totally worth the way he pulled my hair.

Joel scowled at me, though without any real heat. “Hey! What am I, chopped liver?”

I reached out and pinched his cheek. “Almost as tasty as that, I swear.” Joel rolled his eyes and swatted my hand away.

We’d been roommates for ages until he found his mate almost two years ago. Joel might’ve been human (not to mention completely oblivious to shifters until he was fated to one), but he was still an honorary member of our pack. I’d had no choice but to find a new roomie—because living alone in this economy?—but nobody could ever replace Joel, especially not Norman, introverted rabbit shifter and anal-retentive food hog. But at least he paid the rent on time.

Joel followed me into the apartment, closing the door behind him, while I headed straight for the living room with Wick. I kept a few toys here for him, but he was usually more interested in whatever the adults were doing. Even as I sat back in my spot with him in my lap, he was already reaching for my lip ring. Just as he was about to touch it, I snapped my teeth at his fingers with a playful growl rumbling in my chest, and he shrieked in delight.

“You’re not pizza,” Ricky said, “but I’m just so hungry… I can’t seem to resist… a snack!” He leaned in and pretended to eat Wick’s tummy, much to the toddler’s delight.

As Wick got passed down the row for hugs from Ricky, Sierra, and Oliver, Joel dropped down on the couch on my other side with a relaxed sigh, nudging aside the clutter with his toes so he could prop his feet up on the coffee table. “Please talk to me about anything not related to diapers, finger food, or teething.”

“What’s wrong with finger food? That’s like half my diet,” I teased. We were interrupted by another knock on the door, and this time Sierra got up to grab the pizza.

In reality, I both loved and hated talking about what Joel’s life was like now as a parent. I was so jealous of what he had that it caused a physical ache in my chest that felt like a rabid animal gnawing on my ribs, but I could never seem to help myself from greedily absorbing every little detail he threw my way. After all, this might be as close as I would ever get to experiencing a fated love.

With the pizza boxes lined up down the counter, we each loaded up a plate and ate in the living room, using paper towel as napkins. Wick wasn’t quite ready for pizza, but we all picked off toppings for him. Then Oliver set up a game of Mario Kart, and I sat back with a soft smile and watched as my packmates argued over who got the controller with the glitchy joystick.

Wick let out a deep sigh, his head growing heavy on my chest, even as he continued to play with the blue stud pierced through my dimple. I brushed a dark curl back from his forehead and watched as he lost the battle with sleep, his eyelids drifting shut at last.

“Don’t be sad,” Joel said, leaning his head on my shoulder. I hated how easily he saw through my veneer.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from tearing up. “I can’t help it. I want this, Joel. So badly it hurts.” Even though we were whispering, I knew the shifters in the room could hear every word we were saying, but I appreciated that they pretended they didn’t. They kept their eyes on the TV, taunting each other over the game.

“And you’ll get it,” Joel said with the complete confidence of a fool.

“How can you possibly know that? What if I don’t even have a mate? What if all this time I’ve been waiting, I’ve passed by plenty of guys who would’ve made me happy enough? I could’ve had a whole litter of pups by now.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t me. I never would’ve settled for anything less than fate.

Joel reached around his son to poke me in the side, and the tattoo I knew that spanned my ribs beneath my worn Led Zeppelin shirt. “North saw your mate when he gave you that tattoo. He’s out there.”

North was a tattoo artist at Karma Kats, and shifters waited years to get some of his ink. It was said that his tattoos were enchanted with a glimpse of your fated mate, past, present, or future. Mine, however, was far too vague to be much of a hint. It was of a full moon, partially hidden by some silver clouds. Beautiful, sure, but a fat load of good it had done to lead me to my happy ending.

“I wish I had your confidence,” I replied softly, running a hand down Wick’s back.

Too soon, Wick woke up, tired, hungry, and grouchy at a level that only toddlers truly hit, and Joel had to take him home. On the way out, he gave me one last hug, as tight as his weak human arms could manage. “How about I come over next weekend, just the two of us, and I’ll dye your hair for you. Whatever color you want.”

“Orange,” I told him. It’d been green for over a month already, and that must’ve been some kind of record for me.

“Deal.”

My packmates and I stood there without speaking, listening to Joel soothing Wick as they walked down the hall, his wails echoing through the stairwell and out to the street, eventually closed into their car and drifting away. Spending time with them always left a deep carved-out hollow for each of us. And since it wasn’t easily filled, we did the only thing we could to ease the ache.

Sierra pulled a small glass pipe out of her pocket, and Ricky brought out a baggie of our finest wolfsbane. When I first started my little rooftop garden, it’d been with herbs in mind, but it had turned into our own little personal aconite source. Good thing the landlords just thought the purple flowers were pretty.

“I thought they’d never leave,” Ricky said with forced nonchalance as he flopped back on the couch and passed the weed over to pack the bowl. He wasn’t fooling anyone, I could see how sharp his edges were, but we let him pretend. It was the best we could do some days.

Soon, a thick, purple-tinted haze floated through the apartment, smelling like damp forest and rotting leaf litter. Technically, aconite, more commonly known as wolfsbane, was poisonous to shifters, leading to dulled senses and suppressing our beasts, but it was the only way we could feel any kind of intoxication. Our metabolisms ran too high to get drunk or high off human vices, but we found a way. My chest burned as I took the smoke deep into my lungs, my thoughts turning soft as I blew out a cloud, coughing.

More, my wolf insisted, finding as much comfort in the drug as I did. The full moon was in a few days, and I knew he was suffering too.