Author: Artamiss Caine PM
Must have list: Keys, check. Helmet, check. Badass jacket and biker boots, double check. Get mated to the Alpha werewolf in charge of all Alphas or die? When did that make the list? Wait? Werewolves exist? I'm going to die? Who wrote this damn list?Rated: Fiction M - English - Supernatural/Suspense - Chapters: 10 - Words: 35,560 - Reviews: 61 - Favs: 86 - Follows: 136 - Updated: 04-19-12 - Published: 08-18-11 - id: 2944410
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
ok, I haven't forgotten about Blu Moon but this idea has been riding me hard for the last two weeks and i have been itching to dabble in the paranormal realm. I am still doing research. I don't know how often I will be able to update this considering I want to get Blu Moon done first. But let me know what you think.
Hugs Kiss and Artamiss!
The wind whipped at my jacket as I maneuvered in and out of the late afternoon traffic. My mother's voice rang clearly in the Bluetooth headset I'd recently had installed in the helmet.
"I'm on my way home now, Ma."
"Please tell me you're not on that suicide bullet, Charlie!" I laughed and chose not to answer. My mother hated the motorcycle dad bought be for graduation from Florida State five years ago. She said it was shaped like a bullet and had my suicide already planned. My mother was a little neurotic when it came to her only daughter. Never mind that all six of my older brothers were army rangers who willingly put themselves in harm's way for a living. She always joked that she had sons to spare.
"It's not that bad, Mama." I tried to soothe her—big mistake on my part. Regina Therese Mercer was not a woman that was easily placated.
"How on God's green planet are you talking—you had better get off this phone and put both hands on the steering before my precious ends up in traction!" I couldn't help but laugh. My mother always did have a flare for the dramatics.
"I had the Bluetooth put in the helmet a couple weeks ago, so everything's fine." I pulled into the driveway of my tri-level townhouse. A tall man in a custom tailored grey suit stood leaned against a black SUV at the end of the driveway.
"Mom there's someone here, I'll call you back."
"Is it a man? It's about damn time…" I rolled my eyes and cut the connection. My mom had been riding me hard about my lack of romantic prospects over the last few months. The hottie in the shades pushed off the car and strode over to me while I pulled the helmet off my head. I quickly patted my ponytail hoping my hair wasn't completely ruined.
"Miss Mercer?" He extended his hand. I shook it—his grip was confident and powerful; it totally dwarfed my smaller one. A set of straight white teeth blinked against full lips.
"How do know it's not Mrs.?" I dropped his hand already knowing what was coming.
"Your husband allows you to ride so recklessly?" His smile dropped into a concerned frown. Why was he growling at me and my fictitious husband? The look on his face reminded me of the look on my brothers' faces whenever I did something they didn't approve of. He even growled like them.
"Not that it's any of your business, but no man allows me to do anything." I straightened my spine pulling up to my full five feet, five inches. It didn't help much considering he was nearly a foot taller than I was, but so were my brothers so I learned to fake it early on. He smirked seizing me up against the size of my bike. Men often assumed that I was either a lesbian or my man wasn't strong enough to control me because of my preferred method of travel. Obviously, this hottie with the glasses walked into something he wasn't prepared for.
"That's clear enough. No man in his right mind would allow a tiny thing like you to would do something so dangerous." He responded flippantly. I was tempted to kick him in the shin and stomp into the house but my mother attempted to teach me better than that, and I wouldn't let her down now.
"Is there something I can help you with mister…?"
"Eric Wolfstone. I have an important and sensitive matter to discuss with you. I spoke with you the day before yesterday." He handed me his business card. He had called me at my office two days ago, insisting that he speak to me. It had slipped my mind. Hoping that he wasn't some creepy stalker, I invited him in the house. Tossing my helmet and keys on the side table I offered him something to drink and showed him the living room.
"Nothing to drink, thank you." He turned into the polite guy I'd talked to on the phone the other day. His deep low voice was smooth like chocolate. When he took off his sunglasses, I was met with golden brown eyes the shade of fiery amber. He smiled again and a dimple winked in his left cheek. His skin was like a blend of toffee and caramel over the strong hard planes of his face. He wasn't a pretty boy, but there was something about him that was rough and damn near feral that set me on edge. I wonder if tasted as good as he looked. Fuck, I need to get laid.
He cleared his throat and I realized that I hadn't been paying a lick of attention to what he'd been saying.
"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" I shifted uncomfortably and shrugged out of the leather motorcycle jacket and motioned for him to join me on the couch.
"I said have you ever been to the Adahi Valley among the Blue Ridge Mountains in Georgia." His tone turned serious and dropped low like we were sharing a secret. The name was familiar. I remember that my dad was from Georgia and that he'd had family, at one point in the Blue Ridge area. But I hadn't been to that area since I was a toddler; I barely remembered it.
"I haven't been to that area since I was really little." I pulled my freshly straightened and trimmed shoulder length hair out of the ponytail and ruffled it nervously.
"Well, it seems that you now own property out there. It was left to you." His eye searched my face. I didn't know what he was looking for. I shifted in my seat and looked away.
"How is that possible?" He pulled a manila folder out of his briefcase and handed it to me. Sadness descended over his features like a thick blanket before his face went blank.
"I'm sorry to be the one to inform you, but there's been an accident." My heart rate tripled to a dangerous speed. Cold sweat coated my palms and the air thickened making it impossible to breathe.
"Accident?" I whispered barely able to get the word out, choking on checked tears. Please, please, please… I pleaded with God, angels, the saints, the fates….any higher authority that could hear me.
"Your father was in a hunting accident six days ago. He died before the paramedics arrived. I'm sorry." His strong warm hand squeezed my knee as the tears flowed freely. My blood pressure spiked, lightning roared in my ears. My vision was blurry behind the tidal wave of tear drops. With shaky fingers, I opened the folder. I wasn't even able to concentrate on the words written on the paper.
"I knew him all my life. Steven Mercer was a great man." My heart stopped a fraction as bile and disgust rose in my throat. Anger overrode my previous misplaced sadness.
"You mean Phillip Mercer." I stammered my teeth still chattering from my impromptu blubber fest.
Eric's eyes narrowed at me as he stared in confusion. He looked at me as if I were going crazy.
"I don't know about Phillip, but Steven Mercer was buried the day before last." His tone took on a hard edge and his eyes seemed to glow. I laughed hysterically as the pieces fell into place. I had just gotten off the phone with my mother. She would have told me if something happened to my father. Eric stood up abruptly enraged.
"What the hell is so funny?" He bellowed, he sounded more like a wild dog howling. My jaws snapped shut in obscene anger. In that moment I forgot all home training my mother tried to teach me. I pulled back and swung as hard as I could. My fist cracked against his face but the pain in my hand didn't even register on my radar as the adrenaline washed through my veins. Completely ignoring him, I snatched up my keys and ran out the door and hopped on my bike.
I sped over to my parent's house, whipping in and out of traffic at high speeds. The sadistic six would be at my mother's house for dinner tonight. Thirteen miles into the Old Town Suburbs, I pulled my car up onto the curb in front of my parents' house and pulled out the colt defender pellet pistol out of the side compartment and marched inside. I didn't pay attention to slamming the door. Mom would yell at me for that later. The tears caught up with my anger and streamed down my face once again.
My mother had given birth to two sets of triplet boys before giving birth to singular little me. They were built like old time African warriors and twice as ferocious. Unfortunately for them, they taught me how to overcompensate for my height. Nate, Tim, and Tony (the second batch of shit stain stew) jumped when I stalked into the living room. I swung the butt of my again across Nate's jaw and before he went down shot Tony in the thigh. Tim went for my gun but I gifted him with a solid biker boot to the family jewels. Cameron grabbed me from behind and lifted me up as Christopher tried to grabbed the pistol but I gave curled my legs and planted my feet in his chest sending him flying over the couch. I used the momentum to propel me backwards sending Chris and me crashing into mom's favorite antique coffee table. I rolled off him quickly and leveled my gun at Marcum's shoulder and squeezed the trigger; hitting my mark.
"Charlotte Bianca Mercer, what in the hell has gotten into you?" My mother's voice raged over the commotion stilling us all. My chest heaved from the power lust of adrenaline.
"She just came in here and starting going Ultraviolet on everybody." Nate stood up flexing his jaw. I pinned him with an arctic glare and literally saw red.
"Sit, now." Cold nerves of steel solidified my spine. Nathan's gaze never left mine as his shoulders stiffened and his body sank down into the armchair.
"Will someone tell me why my expensive living room looks like I brought Iraq home with me?" My father's voice boomed from behind my mother and we all jumped.
"Charlie did it." Tim palmed his crotch, grimacing painfully.
"Yeah well, the sadistic six have gone too far!" I yelled swiping away at the annoying tears. I fingered the tear in my favorite leather riding pants miserably. Turning to face my tormentors, "I put up with a lot of your shit but this time, you've gone too far. How could you hire some guy to tell me dad was dead?"
"What?" My mom cried out incredulously. She shook with rage. My mother wasn't blind to her son's antics; she just hoped she taught them well enough to know when they crossed the line. Apparently, they skipped that class.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I knocked but no one answered." Eric stepped into the room, a light bruise forming on his jaw. Suddenly, I remembered the throbbing in my hand and noted the swelling.
"Who the hell are you?" My father asked.
"That's the indian in the cupboard they hired to piss me off." I muttered.
Eric's eyes caught mine and blazed with fury. He bypassed my parents and stepped over the broken leg of the coffee table and grabbed me by my shoulders.
"Are you completely insane? You left a complete stranger in your house and went speeding down the road in that pocket pistol on wheels and without a helmet!" He yelled at me and it was like a dark oppressing cloud had descended on me. The aura coming from him was powerful and nearly suffocating, but I refused to back down.
"What right do you have to dictate to me?" I made the mistake of swinging my injured hand. He caught it easily in his large fist this time. I yelped in pain. Nathan snapped out of it and jumped between us.
"Enough!" My mother's voice erupted, shaking us all to our core. All activity ceased.
"Will someone tell me what is going on here?" She stood no taller than me with her hand on her hips. Irritation, disappointment, and confusion danced across her youthful face.
"Steven Mercer was killed six days ago in a hunting accident." Eric's hot gaze was still concentrated on me. My mother inhaled sharply and my brothers' faces went blank. My dad looked like someone shot him.
"What the fuck!" I shouted throwing my hands up. Realizing my mistake only when pain shot through my wrist. "Who is Steven Mercer and why did he leave his stuff to me?"
"He's your father." Eric and my dad said simultaneously. The world tipped backwards and faded to black as my legs gave out beneath me.
Yes he is going to be Native American...based on the area and it's history, I am aiming for Cherokee so I have my work and research cut out for me. I want it to be as authentic as possible. Let me apologize now if I offend anyone with Charlie's sarcasm towards Eric. It's just him she feels that way about I swear. Even then it's only a defense mechanism. Don't hate me please. On the other hand if you have any helpful tips and tidbits about the Cherokee Nation then please drop me a line to keep me in line :) Thanks!
Hug Kiss and Artamiss!