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  WOLF’S SOUL

  Guardians of the Phoenix: Book 2

  JL Madore

  Copyright © 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  JL Madore

  Cover Design: Gombar Cover Designs

  Note: The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Wolf’s Soul: Guardians of the Phoenix

  JL Madore -- 1st ed.

  ISBN: 978-1-989187-32-6

  CHAPTER ONE

  Calli

  He is our calming essence, our foundation, our spirit. To the four of us sharing the phoenix mating bond with him, he’s Kotah, buddy, or Wolf. To the rest of the fae world, he’s His Royal Highness, Prince Nakotah Northwood, heir to the Fae Prime, or, more recently, Fae Prime in Waiting.

  Life sucks when you lose the right to choose.

  In the week since I woke up the resurrected savior of the fae world on Earth, I would’ve been lost without my wolf. The youngest of the five of us, Kotah is the one with the old soul and most contemplative spirit. He’s brilliant—fact, not hyperbole—and he’s not even old enough to drink in a bar.

  He’s also an omega. From what I know, that’s rare… like really rare. Not as rare as my human combustion on the side of a Texas backroad and rising from the ashes as a phoenix, but still rare.

  “Hey, sweetie.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and shift across the middle bench of the SUV to get closer. Kotah is a stunning wolf wildling with Native American heritage. He’s leanly muscled, with chestnut hair down to his very fine ass, and the sweetest, melt-you smile evah. And he’s hurting—which hurts all of us. “Whatever happens, you’re not alone. We’ve got you.”

  “Hells to the yeah,” Jaxx says from behind us. The jaguar squeezes Kotah’s shoulder from over the backrest of our seat. “We’re a lock.”

  “Damn skippy,” Brant, my grizzly says, turning in the shotgun seat to offer a wink. “There’s no splitting up this band. We’ll figure it out.”

  Even Hawk jumps on the reassurance bandwagon, offering a confident smile in the rear-view mirror. “No mate left behind, kid. Calli’s right.”

  Kotah dips his chin and exhales. “It’s the only thing making this bearable.”

  I snuggle against his side and lay my head against his chest. His heart races beneath my ear and for once, it has nothing to do with the crazy mating heat that has us all sexually keyed up and randy most of the time.

  A wild growl rumbles from the front seat but it doesn’t raise anyone’s alarm like the guttural musings that Brant’s bear usually does. That is his stomach.

  “Hey.” I point toward the front window of the truck at the roadside saloon coming up. Judging by the cars in the parking lot, it seems popular. “Any chance we can stop in for a burger and beer?”

  “I could stretch,” Brant says, straightening in his seat. “I’m in for a few brews.”

  “You’re talkin’ my language,” Jaxx says behind me.

  Hawk frowns. “We can be at Northwood Hall in twenty minutes—”

  “I’m in no rush,” Kotah says, grabbing onto the lifeline. “I’d love a burger.”

  Hawk, our autocratic corporate raider, is cunningly efficient in all tasks. It may not have occurred to him beelining it straight at Kotah’s worst fear isn’t a good thing.

  Trivial details like emotion and internal struggle don’t naturally pop up on his radar.

  “Kotah’s the man of the hour,” I say, pulling out my phone to call up my contacts. Since this is a brand-new phone given to me by Hawk it only has five numbers in it. My four guardian mates and Hawk’s bodyguard and driver. “I’m texting Lukas to pull over.”

  Hawk pegs me with a look in the rear-view. He’s got the whole intimidation thing down to a science, but this particular glance holds no heat. “Lukas works for me. Spitfire.”

  I shrug. “Done deal. He says, no problem. See, he’s already hitting his indicator.”

  As our three-vehicle convoy sandwich pulls to the shoulder, the tires crunch over the loose-gravel lot. Lukas and Doc are in the lead truck with two FCO enforcers and they park away from the bulk of the other vehicles.

  Hawk follows and pulls in beside them.

  I lean back to fasten the top button of my jeans and then pull my shoes back on. “What time is it, anyway?”

  Brant checks his utility watch. Hawk has one too. They are FCO-tech that do a heck of a lot more than tell time. They detect species of monsters, magical weapons, and other James Bond type things. “Almost four.”

  “Wow, it feels later than that.”

  Brant nods. “It’s been a day, hasn’t it?”

  It has. After I shot a rogue drow murderer in the head at dawn, we flew to SoCal to clean out the apartment that, up until a couple of weeks ago, I shared with my best friend, Riley.

  I didn’t have it in me to pack up Riley’s things. Her presence is still too strong around me to give her up for dead and move on. She’s dead—I’m not in denial about that or anything—it’s the moving on part I’m not ready for.

  Thankfully, the guys saw that, and we changed gears. We gathered what I wanted, Hawk paid my landlord for the next two months, and we flew back to the Bastion.

  Located two miles northwest of Lebanon, Kansas, the center of all fae law and administration is only one of the two most important centers found at the geographical heart of the continental United States. The other is the Prime Palace.

  That’s where we’re headed now. Minus the pitstop at the burger joint saloon.

  When the ride comes to a complete stop, Brant is quick to exit the vehicle and open my door.

  “Thank you, Bear.” I stretch as I drop to my feet outside, my muscles tight and stiff from lack of use.

  Jaxx follows me out and does the same thing. “Damn, jaguars aren’t meant to be crunched up in small spaces.”

  Brant snorts. “And grizzly bears are?”

  He chuckles. “At least you got the front seat.”

  “Because I can’t physically fit in the back.”

  “Semantics.”

  I smile inwardly. In such a short time, it’s nice to see my guys starting to build genuine friendships. If we’re meant to be a legendary quint of warrior lovers, we need a strong foundation. Mutual respect and friendship is a strong starting point.

  I leave Brant and Jaxx to their banter and join Kotah and Hawk at the front hood. “Are we ready to head in?”

  “Almost,” Hawk says. “Lukas is doing a perimeter check while his team does a security sweep inside. Give them two minutes.”

  I roll my eyes but let Hawk play this out his way. He was cautious in the first few days worrying about me. Now that he knows Kotah’s full identity as the blooded prince to the entire fae world, he’s
having a logistical meltdown.

  I reach up onto my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

  He stiffens. I know he hates the contact, but that’s half the fun. “Thanks for worrying about all the things so we don’t have to. I appreciate it.”

  Hawk

  The Rusty Spur is a county line watering hole fashioned after an old-west saloon. A long, wooden bar stretches the length of the left wall, there’s seating near the front, an open dance floor further inside, and an upright piano sitting against the staircase. Those wide, wooden steps lead up to the second-floor mezzanine and the rooms upstairs. Saloon girls half-dressed in red silk skirts and black, thigh-high stockings lean over the railing from above and act as servers on the floor.

  “Holy-schmoly, I love this place.” Calli smiles as she makes short work of her bacon cheeseburger. “And the food is incredible. Here, try my rings.”

  Someone save me.

  Of course, the Texan jaguar bumpkin and the farmer bears are in their glory. Calli seems to enjoy playing cowgirl, too. Unbidden, my mind shifts. Picturing her riding me cowgirl does nothing for my self-control. Fuck me. I scowl and adjust in my seat. “It’s gauche and over the top.”

  Jaxx laughs and lifts the large, frosted mug to his lips. “You’re the only one who thinks so, Hawk. Live a little.”

  I sigh and lift my fingers to count off my list of concerns. “The phoenix has risen. We were ambushed on the road because someone wants to do Calli harm. We’re supposed to assemble an enchanted pendant but have no idea where the pieces are or how to find them. The kid is being recalled to take his place as Fae Prime. Until Calli’s trained she’s completely vulnerable—”

  “Not completely vulnerable,” Calli argues. “I took care of Plaid Nightmare and I held my own during the ambush.”

  Plaid Nightmare is her name for the human trucker who almost succeeded in raping her before a gang of drow took over and continued the sexual assault. I won’t bring that up because even discussing it brings the four of us to violent rage.

  The ambush, however, was a straight-on fight. “You were rocket launcher’d into a pond and almost drown. But wait, there’s more… I wasn’t done with our outstanding issues.”

  I continue with the finger ticking. Since I’m finished my right hand, I flip to my left. “The Black Knight is moving behind the scenes amassing money for a purpose we haven’t yet gleaned. My life and business are suffering every moment I’m not keeping my eye on the ball. And the entire fae realm is about to learn that their Prime is dying. Do you know how unstable that makes things?”

  “Do you ever get a cramp in your tongue?” Brant asks, grabbing the handle of his beer stein and lifting the frosted mug to his lips. “My hope for all of us is that you someday find the end of your ramble of doom.”

  “Those are just the most pressing problems, Bear. Can you honestly look at me and say I need to live a little?” I toss back a dram of whiskey and repour with the bottle I bought for the table. “Aaaand ninety percent of the beer-guzzling nary locals set their sights on Calli as the exotic main attraction the moment she stepped through those tacky swinging doors.”

  “You can’t blame them for that,” Brant says, shifting his empty burger and fries platter under his newly arrived t-bone and baked potato platter. “Our girl’s fucking hot.”

  “Aw, such a sweet-talking charmer,” Calli says, before looking across the table at me and sobering. “You’re right, Hawk. A bunch of things needs to get nailed down. I need daily training. We need to figure out a plan to find the gems. We need a lot of things and they will all pile up over the next few days. Just give us this moment to breathe and then we’ll get back to it, I promise.”

  She offers me a sympathetic smile and tosses her napkin as the song changes. “Jaguar. I believe you asked for a dance last night that we never got a chance to take. Care to light the dance floor on fire?”

  “Hells yeah,” Jaxx says, taking another swig of his beer before rising to follow Calli onto the dance floor. Before he heads off, he chuckles and looks to us. “Seriously though, do we know where the fire extinguishers are? We don’t want to light anything on fire and cause a scene.”

  As the two of them join the other three couples making spectacles of themselves on the worn hardwood, two-dozen gawking humans shift their gazes to follow our mate. I stretch my neck and fight the urge to kill them all.

  Objectively, yes, I see why she draws attention.

  Calliope Tannis is a full-figured, blonde with gemstone green eyes and a kiss-my-ass attitude that’s gotten her in and out of trouble her whole life. Squeezed into a pair of jeans with a plain white tank, she’s about as down-home, pony-tail sexy as it gets.

  And then there’s her fire.

  While mundane humans don’t sense the magic of her phoenix or smell Jaxx’s mating mark on her, their instincts pick up the dangerous lick of her fire. She possesses a raw power she doesn’t understand or command yet.

  It’s alluring to both fae and humans alike.

  She is the flame. They are the moths.

  Except, I’m no one’s moth.

  I’m the fucking flame in my life.

  Yes, her scent set up shop in my head. Yes, I’ve been hard and horny for days. But there’s no, fucking way I’m buying into this mating magic bullshit.

  As Jaxx spins Calli on the dance floor, her laughter tightens the pain in my groin. I catch a gust of their mixed scents on the air and my hawk lets off a shrill scream.

  The jaguar’s mating mark on her flesh offends everything in me. Of the four of us, he’s the one who’s been inside her.

  He’s the one who she came apart for—

  “Whoa, easy, Hoss.” Brant’s hand manacles my wrist and cuts off the circulation between my fingers and my Sig Sauer. “How ’bout you park your wagon and take a load off.” He twists my gun out of my hand, his golden eyes glowing with the nearness of his bear. “This ain’t the wild west and it’s well past high noon.”

  What the fuck?

  I stare at him, mouth agape as the world comes back into focus. Shit. I am getting dangerous. I wipe a rough hand over my mouth and meet Lukas’s gaze at the next table. “I need some air. Walk me out.”

  Kotah

  With Hawk gone, Jaxx and Brant take turns dancing with Calli for the next hour while I watch. They wave me over to join them once in a while, but honkytonk new country isn’t the kind of music the Prime Prince was taught to dance to. Not that it doesn’t look fun—it does—but there’s something more pressing occupying my mind.

  When the rhythm slows down, I draw a deep breath and head out onto the hardwood. “Do you mind if I cut in?”

  Brant steps away “Not a bit, buddy. Enjoy yourselves.”

  Brant steps away and Calli swings close and meets me chest to chest. A sexy sheen of sweat glistens on her forehead and her eyes glow bright like back-lit emeralds. I breathe her deep into my lungs, savoring her unique scent—it’s feminine with the smoldering fire of her phoenix and the sweat of her exertions.

  She feeds my soul. How is it, the universe thought I deserve such an incredible female?

  “How are you doing?” she asks searching my expression as we sway close together. “I was hoping you’d change your mind and come dance your troubles away with me but if you want to leave, I’m sure Hawk can catch up.”

  Over the past few days, holding Calli has become my happy place. Her energy sings to my wolf, her scent fills my lungs, and her touch warms me to the marrow of my bones. If life could be this—the two of us holding each other close—I could live and die a content male.

  Her breath washes the skin of my neck and raises the hair on my arms. The heat of her hand on my chest is the only thing keeping me from losing my nerve.

  She eases back and my heart lurches. “Is everything okay? Your heart is racing.”

  “I’m panicked.” My cheeks heat. “That has less to do with going home to my father and more to do with you.”

  “Anything in particular or m
e in general.”

  My body sways against hers, fear of rejection roaring in my ears. “Calli… I was thinking, hoping really… You see, I need… No, I suppose it’s not a need. It’s a want. It’s definitely a want…”

  She takes both my hands and clutches them between us. “Okay, stop with the warmup band and get straight to the main event. You think, hope, need, want what exactly?”

  “You.” My breath hitches and I swallow. “I want us to have sex. I want you to want me… to claim me before I go back there… to make it clear that I’m not the same boy who got shipped away because he’d never live up to expectations.”

  Calli stops dancing and her smile falls. “None of those are good reasons to give away your V-card, Kotah.”

  I close my eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just… over the past week we’ve grown close. I adore you and I think the feeling is mutual. When I picture my future, it’s you. And when we kiss, my whole world comes into focus. You’re the one I want to be with. I know I’m young, but if I was ten years older or forty, it would still be you. My wolf may have been claimed by the mating magic, but you stole the heart of the male.”

  Her gaze softens as a smile spreads across her face. “Now, that is how you seduce your girl. Those are reasons I can get behind.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders and brushes our lips together. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but there are a half-dozen rooms upstairs. And, if this place doesn’t do it for you, Jaxx and Brant can drive us up the road to find a hotel. Whatever you want.”

  “Here’s good,” I say, glancing up at the wooden doors behind the upper railing. “Who do you think we talk to—”

  “Hey, pretty lady.” A man with a scruffy jaw and a black cowboy hat tugs Calli’s shoulder. “How about you toss that minnow back into the pond and hook yourself a whopper? Never send a boy to do a man’s job.”

  Calli

  I twist out of the reach from handsy drunk number one and handsy drunk number two grinds up behind me. He’s good enough looking that I’d bet he’s used to his pretty face sealing the deal with women—not me, but other women. I smack his hand away from my ass and my phoenix rushes to the foreground. “Dude, unless you’re my thong, you have no business crawling up my ass. Step off and mind your manners.”