Crescent (Tribes, Book 1) [completed]

Chapter 1

Patrolling a political rally in the middle of the town square wasn't exactly Conner's idea of a good time, especially on a day as blisteringly hot as this. He tugged at the sleeve on his thermal shirt. Curses on the secrecy of this protection detail. His people worked with the human rules the best they could, but the jobs where they needed to hide their identifying marks totally blew.

Forget it. No one would blame him for rolling up his sleeves and the mark would still be hidden. Conner yanked at the fabric until it rested below his elbows. Better. Not by much, but better. He readjusted his baseball cap on his head and surreptitiously scouted the area for his brothers-in-arms.

Landon narrowed his eyes from across the crowd and gave Conner a subtle nod. Reed merely glanced his way, then went back to sauntering along the edges. From the outside looking in, no one would guess the dozen tall men weaving in and out of the crowd were there to listen for any terrorist threats.

That's what happened when the leader of one of the major political parties decided to make a pit stop in town. People came out in droves to hear him speak, but no one knew better than the Lycans how easily peace could turn to war.

Conner and his people heard everything. They saw even more. Anything suspicious, they detected. A raised heartbeat. The flutter of beady eyes. The twitch of a finger.

Everyone knew the res boys were the best for the job. That's how they worked out the mating laws with the government. They did the occasional side job and the law allowed them their choice of mates. Of course, the media and the government also made the mating laws out to be the biggest travesty and most horrific idea since... well, since ever.

Women shuddered and scattered anytime they spotted Conner's markings, hence the long sleeves today. Back on the res, he could run around shirtless and no one would care. He missed that when he went out, especially in this stupid, sweltering heat.

There were no words to describe the torture he put himself through for the sake of their treaty with the government. If the mating laws weren't so important to the health and productivity of his pack, and ultimately his tribe, Conner would seal off the reservation and stop working for the government altogether.

Someone ran into Conner's side and he growled. He couldn't help it, the sound leaped from his throat.

The man stopped and glared at him. "You're one of those shifters, aren't you?" he spat it like the word tasted bad on his tongue.

Conner merely blinked and moved on. He learned long ago it wasn't worth it to argue or fight with the humankind.

His wolf growled in his head, agitated. Conner stopped and took a long breath to calm him. Now wasn't the time to let anger take over and shift him. It would breed chaos and that's what they were trying to avoid in this situation.

The sweet smell of pastry and warm chocolate chip cookies wafted to him over the stale breeze. Conner turned his head that direction and let the homey scents surround him. There was something mixed with them, something just as sweet and alluring. A hint of cherry and flowers and female. His wolf leaped forward in his head, absolutely intrigued.

Conner couldn't contain his reaction. He had to look. Had to see for himself what housed that scent and tugged at his wolf's instincts.

No woman ever called to him like this before. Sure, he appreciated a beauty as much as the next man, and on occasion he would relieve some stress by wooing one barmaid or another, but he was always gone before the next morning. Now, with just a breath of her beautiful odor, his wolf wanted to attack. To shield and protect and mark and claim. Was this what one felt when they found a mate?