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CHAPTER 1
Isaiah Striker prowled restlessly down the busy street. Cars and trucks drove by and the "L" rumbled off in the distance. People talked or yelled, depending on their purpose. The city was never quiet. That's what he hated the most. All the noise. It was enough to drive a man, or in this case a werewolf, mad.
His thoughts wandered as his long legs ate up the sidewalk. He noted the way women watched him with a combination of lust and fear in their eyes or the way men stared warily as he walked by. He was a big man, more feral than civilized. Humans might be far removed from the wilds of their ancestors, but their survival instincts were still there. When they sensed a predator in their midst they had brains enough to get out of the way.
Even now, he still wasn't quite certain how he'd ended up in Chicago. He'd needed to get away from his home in the hills of North Carolina, but being trapped in a crowded city wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. As a wolf, he needed open space in which to run free. As a man, he wanted to be alone.
He cursed under his breath as he tried to ignore the stench of human body odor and garbage tinged with that of drugs, alcohol and perfume. His preternatural sense of smell was making the experience quite unpleasant. Occasionally, he'd catch a whiff of something quite wonderful wafting out from a restaurant as he passed by. His stomach growled in protest.
It had been hours since he'd eaten. He'd come to Chicago at his brother's request. One corner of his mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile. Who'd have thought his brother, Joshua, would be the first of them to be mated. As the eldest, Isaiah had grown up assuming it would be him. But that hadn't happened and wasn't likely to any time soon.
Female werewolves were scarce. The past hundred years had not been kind to their species. Children were far and few between and what children were born were mostly male. Add that to the infighting between packs and the paranormal bounty hunters who pursued them relentlessly and it was no wonder their kind was on the brink of extinction.
Which led him back to the reason why he was here — Alexandra, his new sister-in-law. She was a half-breed who'd been discovered and hunted as a potential mate by some, while others had sought to destroy her.
He rolled his shoulders and fisted his hands at his sides at the mere thought of anyone harming her. In the short time she'd been mated to his brother, he'd come to respect and like her.
She and her father, James LeVeau Riley, had left Chicago quickly. Isaiah was here to tie up loose ends and have their belongings shipped to the Wolf Creek pack compound back home. So far, all he'd been doing was watching the garage they'd called home to make certain no hunters or other wolf packs were still sniffing around. When he was certain all was clear, he'd make contact and start the process of moving their stuff to Wolf Creek. Another day or so. Maximum.
Once this responsibility was dealt with, he promised himself he'd take off on his own for a while. He'd been feeling even edgier than usual lately, not at home in his own skin. And he didn't like the sensation at all. He almost wished someone would pick a fight with him. It would be a good way to blow off some steam.
But a brawl with a human wouldn't be fair. He was many times stronger and faster than any normal male. It would also draw attention, which was the last thing he wanted.
His phone rang and he sighed as he reached into his pocket. "Yeah?" he answered, knowing who it was without even checking the display.
"How are things going?"
Isaiah stifled a sigh. His brother was turning into an old woman, worrying and nagging him. The thought made him grin. No one but him would dare think of Joshua in that way.
Joshua was Striker of the Wolf Creek pack. He was the enforcer, the judge, jury and, when necessary, the executioner. He was tough and ruthless. He did whatever had to be done to protect the pack.
The job should have been Isaiah's but he'd refused to accept it when their father had been killed. He owed his brother for taking over the responsibility he hadn't been able to. Besides which, he knew his brother loved him and worried about him so he bit back his acidic retort. "I'm fine."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Joshua finally spoke. "I know that's not true, but I appreciate you taking care of this for me. The pack is still in an uproar over everything that's happened and I can't be away right now."
"I'll handle it."
He heard a female voice in the background and Joshua added, "Alex adds her thanks too."
"It's no problem." He glanced around as the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Someone was watching him.
"You seen Damek yet?"
"I'm on my way there now. I'll call you tomorrow." He ended the call, slipped the phone into the back pocket of his jeans and continued down the street.
Isaiah glanced casually over his shoulder, scanning the area behind him. Moving quickly, he darted across the busy road, ignoring the blare of horns and the shouts that followed him. Thankfully, he was in the downtown area and it was busy. He kept walking, opening all of his senses as he tried to figure out where his pursuer was, which was impossible given the crowds.
The feeling faded after a while, leaving him to wonder if he was simply being paranoid. No one but his immediate family and his alpha knew where he was.
It was time to take care of some business. He headed toward the Fulton River District, following Joshua's directions. The area was a contradiction. Empty warehouses sat alongside million-dollar condos. It was easy to see that development was thriving in this section of the city.
His destination was one of the warehouses. He turned down a dimly lit alleyway. It wasn't late, but darkness was quickly descending on the city and its citizens were already seeking the mind-numbing distractions of booze, drugs and music that could be found in a multitude of clubs in the area. There was something for everyone from posh to seedy dive.
None of it interested him. He hated being surrounded by people. Closed inside a building. Still, duty called.
Isaiah ignored the short lineup and went straight to the closed iron door. He raised his fist and pounded on the thick panel.
The door opened and a bouncer eyed him with suspicion. The guy was about six-foot-eight and wore leather from head to toe. His bald head and scowling face were meant to intimidate.
Isaiah didn't give a shit. He wanted to complete his business and get out of here. "Damek."
The bouncer raised an eyebrow in question. "And you are?"
"Striker. Isaiah Striker."
The big guy sighed and rubbed his hand over his bald skull. "Another one, huh. I met your brother a while back. Come on in and wait."
No one in the line protested as Isaiah followed the bouncer inside. The heavy door slammed shut behind them and he had the sensation of being entombed. Not too farfetched, considering the club was owned by a vampire.
The music pounded around him, vibrating through the floor and into his body. A blast of heat hit him as he stepped down several steps and headed to the bar. Thankfully, it wasn't too crowded yet. But there were still way too many people for Isaiah's liking.
He pushed past the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor, ignoring the way the men and women groped at one another. The club was aptly named Inhibitions, as anyone who entered seemed to lose theirs.
Isaiah leaned against the bar. The bartender eyed him but a word from the bouncer and he was left alone. Not that there was any peace or quiet to be found. The music, if you could call it that, was loud and obnoxious with little melody. It was pulse-pounding, fuck-me music, designed to whip all the patrons into a frenzy.
From the looks of things, it was working. He counted no less than four couples having sex, while about a half-dozen more were in various stages of undress. Two women trolled across the floor toward him. Both of them wore what he supposed passed for dresses, but looked more like shrunken T-shirts. The necklines dropped almost to their nipples and the hemlines covered their crotches. Barely.
"Hey, looking for some fun?" One of the ladies pushed up next to him, straddling one of his thighs and grinding her pussy against it. Her perfume filled his nostrils, making it hard for him to breathe. He set her aside.
"No."
"Ah, come on." The other woman pouted. She lifted his hand and placed it on one of her incredibly huge breasts. "I can do things to you that will blow your mind."
"I'm sure you can," he agreed, as he looked over her head, desperate to be away from this place.
The first woman, not to be outdone, grabbed his cock through his jeans and squeezed. "You're a big one, aren't you? Plenty to go around."
Isaiah had had enough. He gently disengaged from both women and headed to the short corridor beyond the bar with their soft complaints trailing behind him. He was done with waiting.
The bouncer met him just beyond the door to Damek's office and held it open. Isaiah stalked into the room, grateful when the door shut, closing out some of the grating noise and overwhelming smells.
"How the hell do you live here?" His preternatural senses told him the vampire was with him. Power pulsed all around him, potent and strong.
Laughter rose from the corner of the room and Damek strode forward — tall, dark-eyed and pale-skinned. "You get used to it. It does have benefits."
"If you say so," he muttered. Of course, Damek needed blood to survive. It was smart to keep your food source close. Joshua had told him Damek was rumored to be almost a thousand years old. Isaiah had no idea if it was true and, at the moment, couldn't care less. He wanted out of here.
"It's good to see you again, my friend." Damek waved to the chair opposite his desk. "Sit."
They weren't friends and he wasn't sitting. They occasionally did favors for one another, but that was as far as it went. Werewolves and vampires were naturally suspicious around one another. But the survival of their respective species had pushed aside the natural boundaries that had kept them apart since the beginning of time.
The paranormal bounty hunters had given them a common foe, one that had made them reach out to one another in a way they wouldn't naturally do.
"I'll stand, if you don't mind." He wasn't exactly polite, but he didn't want to antagonize either.
"Very well. What can I do for you?"
Isaiah kept his hands loose by his sides and did his best to keep his guard up and his mind blank. He had no idea if Damek could read his mind or not. Keeping apart for so long meant neither species knew as much as they should about the other. It kept them all on edge.
Isaiah figured Damek probably enjoyed that.
"Just a courtesy call to let you know I was in the city." Damek was head vampire in Chicago. Isaiah didn't want problems with the local paranormals while he was here.
"Ah, I take it you're here to see to James LeVeau's belongings and, of course, those of his exceptionally beautiful daughter."
Isaiah growled. "Careful, vampire. That's my sister-in-law you're talking about."
Damek laughed. "So Joshua is as smart as I thought him. Good."
"I'm outta here." Isaiah made for the door, but stopped as power surged around him. He turned and glanced over his shoulder.
Damek shook his head. "You Strikers, you're so arrogant."
"And you're not," he countered.
The vampire smiled, this time showing his teeth. "Enjoy your stay in Chicago." Damek seemed to merge with the shadows, disappearing even from Isaiah's preternatural sight.
He didn't linger, but walked straight through the bar and out the door. Power clung to the place. No one knew if Damek was good or evil, but the sonofabitch sure was powerful. Not an enemy he'd want. The bastard would be relentless. You had to respect that.
The night air helped to cleanse the stench of the club from his skin, but nothing soothed the restlessness tugging at him.
He kept heading northward, ambling aimlessly and eventually hitting Wicker Park. He knew he should be going in the opposite direction, back to Riley's Garage on the South Side. But he didn't want to go back, not yet. He knew he wouldn't sleep so he might as well walk and enjoy the sights.
The city itself was vibrant and alive, filled with many different ethnic groups and economic levels. He'd seen homeless people and folks in limousines, those decked out in jeans and others in diamonds. The food and the nightlife were just as diverse. Maybe that's what he needed. Some good food and some decent music.
He wandered past a bar and a woman's voice drifted out on the cool October breeze. He froze, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk. A guy bumped into him from behind and started to curse him, but one look at Isaiah's face and he quickly moved on.
Isaiah felt his entire body clench with need as the woman's low, sultry voice wrapped around him. Turning slowly, he stared at the outside of the small club. Haven, it was called. It was a typical older, three-story brick building with a business on the bottom and what looked to be apartments above it.
A sense of urgency filled him. An air of expectation swirled around him. Somehow he knew if he went inside this bar his life would be changed forever.
All the more reason to keep walking.
He whirled on one heel and strode in the opposite direction. About twenty feet away, he stopped.
"Fuck!"
The wolf inside him was howling, practically clawing at his skin to be free. His lungs couldn't take in enough air even though his chest was heaving. He raked his fingers through his hair and swore again.
His instincts would not be denied. Spinning around, he stalked back to the bar. He paused on the doorstep, took a deep breath and crossed over the threshold.
The bouncer on the door nodded at him as he passed. The guy was about six-one and built, his shoulders practically filling the doorway. His blond hair was buzzed off in a crew cut and his pale blue eyes missed nothing as he watched the door and the crowd within.
The light was dim, but that was no problem for Isaiah. With his preternatural sense of sight he could see easily. The smell of liquor and warm bodies mixed with the spice of sexual arousal, creating a heady perfume. He could also smell food, and it reminded him once again that he hadn't eaten in hours. His fast metabolism required him to eat several times more than a human male and he was running on empty.
He found an empty table for two in the far corner and sat with his back to the wall as he scoped out the place. The woman was no longer singing. No matter. He'd find her before he left here.
The place was crowded for a Thursday night. He could see only one other free table. Several couples were dancing to a bluesy number being played by a four-piece band that managed to fit on a tiny stage at the far end of the place. The bar dominated one wall with plenty of seating surrounding it. The bartender was a big guy who looked up when Isaiah's eyes landed on him. Their gazes met and held, neither of them backing down. The guy finally looked away when a woman walked up beside him and placed her hand on his arm.
And holy shit, what a woman. Isaiah was ninety years old. Still relatively young given his five-hundred-year lifespan. But in all those years, he'd never seen a woman like this one.
Even from a distance, he could tell she was tall. Long black hair fell like silk over one of her shoulders and didn't stop until it hit her waist. Her features were more striking than beautiful. Exotic. Strong. Her full lips were painted a deep red that all but begged a man to kiss them.
Isaiah's cock swelled in agreement, pushing against the zipper of his jeans. He hadn't been aroused this quickly since he's been a young male just coming into maturity.
"What can I get you?" He resented the perky female voice that shouted near his ear. He didn't want to stop staring at the woman standing behind the bar. It wasn't easy, but he managed to drag his eyes to the waitress standing by his table, tray tucked under her arm as she waited for his order. She was probably in her early twenties with tousled blonde curls and an open, friendly smile.
"Beer. Whatever's on tap." It didn't matter to him what it was. His metabolism ensured he couldn't get drunk on it no matter how much he drank.
"Sure. Anything else?"
He was about to say no when his stomach growled again. "Is the kitchen still open?"
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Isaiah's Haven"
by .
Copyright © 2010 N.J. Walters.
Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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