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Book 1
Chapter 1
Ayla
I flopped back on my bed, thoroughly exhausted from what felt like a never-ending shift in the infirmary. Fort Canid certainly hadn’t gone easy on its healers lately, which was surprising, considering just how far we were from the front lines.
Then again, the war between my homeland and the country I currently served started before I’d even been born. There were always changes in what areas were hit hardest and where the most troops were needed.
Still, that didn’t make tending to the many, many freshly injured and severely wounded any easier. I was familiar with the anatomical specifics of most of the paranormal creatures fighting in the military, but my brain always felt like taffy after hour ten, and I was eager to fall into blessed sleep…except for dinner.
My stomach growled as if to reiterate the point. We’d been so slammed that I’d skipped lunch to check up on patients, then after that I’d skipped supper to produce more anti-infection salves. I needed to at least try to get to the later dinner provided to Fort Canid’s soldiers or I’d be in terrible pain the next day.
Then there was the brain fog.
Even though I was only a half-shifter, I had the appetite of a full one, and goodness, could shifters eat. If I were any other paranormal creature—or a “cryptid”, as we tended to jokingly call ourselves—I’d definitely qualify as a glutton. It wasn’t uncommon for me to eat six large meals a day, or even more if I was expending my energy more than usual, and that was fairly run of the mill for a wolf shifter. The bear, manticore, and elephant shifters I’d met could easily triple that.
It was one of the biggest reasons good relationships with the surrounding towns and their folk were so important. We had our own dryads and druids who tended to cows, pigs, and sheep that were ranched within the southern sector of the fort, but it wasn’t enough to fuel all the soldiers stationed there. So, supplies were sourced from the locals, and at a pretty penny as well.
“Come on, Ayla, you gotta eat,” I grumbled to myself, as if saying the words would magically motivate me to sit up and do what I needed to.
Not shockingly, this didn’t really work.
It was just so tempting to let myself slip into restful slumber. My magic was all but tapped out, drained by a war that just kept escalating, demanding more battles and blood spilled across the land.
But before I could let my eyelids flutter closed, a knock sounded at my door. My first instinct was to jolt. Who the hell would want to come into my room so late in the evening? I made it my mission to carefully keep my distance from everyone—quite literallyeveryone—at Ford Canid, so it wasn’t like I had callers usually show up out of nowhere.
I took a deep breath and caught a familiar scent; one I hadn’t been able to shake even though the rest of the Fort was happy to leave me alone and dub me the “Healing Hermit”. It was even more impressive—or was it pathetic? —when one considered that the other healer in my division was an old warlock with alengthy white beard who could put most elderly magic users to shame.
“Come on, Ayla. I know you’re in there!” her voice called musically through the door. I rolled my eyes, although I couldn’t help the small smile that spread across my features. Despite my efforts to keep my distance, one of Fort Canid’s most powerful psychics seemed dead set on being my friend.
It would've been annoying if she weren’t so damncharming.She had a smile that was broad and inviting, her white teeth standing out against the beautiful umber of her skin. It wasn’t a hue I saw often, but it was similar to the reddish clay that spread out under very specific, blessed trees in my homeland, except this was mixed with gold. She was unearthly beautiful in a way, and I had no idea why she was so set on liking me.
Well…that wasn’tentirelytrue. I’d started things, even if it had been an accident. I’d met her during my first week stationed at the Fort. She’d come in for stronger pain medicine while the lunar eclipse was wreaking havoc on her period—something that wasn’t entirely unusual for magic users. I’d wanted to do a thorough magical scan of her, so I asked her to wash her face and remove her makeup, including what I thought were her very obvious falsies.
I’d been as cold and detached as possible, but she’d just laughed and informed me she wasn’t wearing any. She just had a mutation that gave her a double row of lashes on both her top and bottom lids.
Naturally, I was fascinated. Can you blame a healer? I knew that distichiasis was a mutation of the FOXC2 gene that existed in humans and could have plenty of other symptoms, such as lymphedema and congenital defects, but I’d never heard of a cryptid with it.
It turned out asking a curious question was the same as proposing a lifetime bond, apparently, because Darla looped herarm around mine and told me that if she was going to give me a whole interview, we might as well be friends and eat together.
“I thought you couldn’t read my mind while I’m wearing the inhibitor bracelet,” I called gruffly without moving. The truth was, I liked Darla quite a lot. She was funny, charismatic, and sharp as a whip. I got the feeling that, even if she couldn’t read minds, she'd be a force to be reckoned with.
“I don’t need to read your mind to know that you’re in there without having eaten anything for at least half a day.”
I may have cursed under my breath. Unlike most shifters, Darla couldn’t hear my muttering.
“You might be right, but I’ll confirm nothing.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now, get your ass up and out of here so we can get some grub. It won’t remedy you needing to get laid, but at least it’ll stop you from being hangry.”
I shot her a look, even though she couldn’t see me.
“Excuse you, I donotneed to get laid!”
I was prickly around the edges, but that was on purpose. I had… complications in my life that forced my hand. Complications that meant I'd need to keep my distance as much as possible, and last I checked, sleeping with someone was definitely close contact.
Besides, I didn’t want to tell my gorgeous, charismatic friend who had dozens of men and women drooling over her that I was a twenty-two-year-old virgin. Not because she'd make fun of me, but because she might try to ‘fix’ the situation.
