Page 1 of Betrayed Kidnapped Mate
Chapter 1 - Bigby
I watch the sun rise over the lake, breathing hard from my run.
Cardio isn’t usually my priority, but I fell in love with the view over Half Moon Lake, and running around its perimeter every morning helps me work out some of the restlessness in my body.
“Hello?” I say, bringing my phone to my ear, not even looking at the caller ID and knowing it’s Aris anyway. Through our pack bond, I felt the itch that he was just about to contact me.
“Hey,” he says. In the background, I hear Araya giggling and Linnea saying something about eating her eggs. “Just get done with your run?”
“Yup,” I say, climbing into my Jeep and taking my coffee from the cup holder. Before moving to Rosecreek, I didn’t have a vehicle—we always took agency cars or flew to our destinations. In D.C., I could walk everywhere I needed to go. Here, a car is necessary if you want to run to the grocery store.
“Great, can you meet me here in an hour? We have a bit of a situation debrief for you.”
“Everything okay?” I ask though I can feel through the pack bond that Aris, Linnea, and Araya are all calm. Since our showdown with Varun, my body is constantly on high alert for the next threat.
My therapist—a paranormal who specializes in shifter psychology—assures me that people with PTSD don’t recover in just a few years. However, I still wish I could get over the incessant reminders of our mission with Varun. It wasn’t just that Varun was a particularly evil alpha, either—it was also the fact that our commander and Eva betrayed us. It’s been a long road to re-establishing trust and fighting against the constant paranoia.
During our time on the team with the agency, we went to all sorts of places and saw a lot of terrible things from corrupt alphas. But Rosecreek was worse because it was my hometown. The first place I felt safe turned into a hell scape by a particularly conniving and controlling leader.
I cough into my fist to keep from thinking about it too much—but the memories come back anyway. Percy writhing in pain on the ground, begging to end his own life rather than succumb to the poison. Aris almost getting hit with the stuff when Varun tried to kill him. Eva’s screams as it coursed throughout her veins.
I didn’t much care for Eva—especially after realizing she was the mole, feeding information back to Varun—but shifter-to-shifter, it was hard to see what she went through. A serum that removes a shifter’s ability to get to their animal state is just plain evil.
And there are still vials and samples of the stuff sitting in Varun’s underground compound. A shiver rolls up my spine at the thought of what someone like Varun could do with that kind of power.
I back the Jeep out of its parking spot by the lake and head up the winding roads and through town, waving at the townies as I go. Rosecreek has one of the highest shifter populations in the state, but the human population is relatively accepting of the paranormal presence. Before Varun, many of them even considered Rosecreek to be a safer town due to the pack’s integration into the town.
After Aris became alpha, I decided it would be pertinent to start including the humans in some of our pack decisions since they live in the town, too. I’m the head of the shifter-human alliance committee, and I plan meetings to update them on our plans and get their input. It’s gone a long way toward rebuilding trust.
But there’s still some deep-seated resentment from human families. Especially those who were directly affected by Varun’s leadership.
“Hey, Bigby!” someone says, and I turn to see Lisa, the local baker, running up to my Jeep when I’m stopped at the light outside her shop. I crank the wheel, pulling over and rolling down the passenger window.
“Good morning, Lisa,” I call, “how’s it going.”
“Good,” she says, out of breath from her sprint. She reaches through the window and drops a little parcel on the passenger seat. “Give these a try! Honey-lemon-pistachio scones. I’m thinking of it for next year’s Spring menu.”
“Wow, you’re planning pretty far, aren’t you?”
“Baking menus are a serious business, Biggie. You have to remember that.”
I chuckle, thanking her for the goods and getting through the green light before it turns again. The drive to Aris’s place takes about ten minutes from town, and I admire the trees and scenery as I take the winding roads through the woods.
Like Aris and Linnea, I also grew up here, and it’s been hard to balance those happy memories with last year's nightmare. I’m purposefully trying to re-frame my thinking around Rosecreek to make sure I don’t dwell on the negative.
When I pull up outside Aris and Linnea’s house, there’s a swarm of construction workers already around in the driveway and climbing up scaffolding.
Since Varun killed Aris’s dad years ago, the house sat empty. When we returned a few years ago for our mission, the house was in pretty bad disrepair, and Aris and Linnea have been slowly renovating it. It took a little while for them to gain access to Aris’s inheritance—which he would only get after becoming the alpha of the Rosecreek pack. In the meantime, they’d lived there while fixing things up.
I still remember Linnea with a bandana over her hair, her hand on her lower back as she painted the nursery. Aris was practically ripping his hair out, trying to get her to relax.
“Good morning, Bigby!” one of the construction workers calls as I climb out of my Jeep. I’m still sweaty from my run, but I won't waste a shower until I know what Aris wants from me. Last week, someone reported a bunch of confused water sprites in the lake. They’d gotten caught up in a storm and washed into the lake—but these were river creatures. Not only were they causing a bunch of problems for anyone who wanted to fish or boat, but they were also pretty sickly. I’d spent an entire afternoon wrestling them into a crate before driving the few hours to get downstream enough in the Mississippi that they wouldn’t be back soon.
All that to say—until I know what Aris wants me to do, there’s no use taking a shower. I could end up in that lake all day, wrestling little fairies and avoiding their bites.
“Biggie!” Percy calls, running down the hallway as fast as his chubby little legs carry him. Grinning, I bend down and swoop him up into my arms.
“Hey there, big fella,” I say, rubbing my hand playfully over his head, ruffling his curls. “Where’s your dad?”
