Hiya! I’m here as Holly today 🥳 A few days ago The Jaguar’s Knife was released. It’s the third story in the Within the Walls series, and while there is a new couple in every book, I strongly suggest you read them in order.
The first one is Vampire Food, which is about Rue, a magic user, and Noah, a vampire.
The second is about Easy, Kitten which is about Chaton, a latent cat shifter, and Asher, an annoying vampire with few to no boundaries.
And when you’ve read those, you might want to read The Jaguar’s Knife which is about Ty who is a magic user held captive by evil humans. Really, in this series most humans are evil, but these are particularly bad. Luckily, he comes into contact with Jagger, who is a jaguar shifter and lives within the walls in Myrfolk. Jagger tells Gertrude, the community leader, and soon there is a rescue mission in the making.
The day we’re celebrating is Cinnamon Roll Day. When I started writing I had bigger plans for the cinnamon rolls than they got, but hey, at least there are cinnamon rolls! Not too bad when you’re on the verge of starving.
The Jaguar’s Knife
A lone jaguar shifter. A magic user in trouble. Evil humans bring them together.
Jagger Casley is part of a supernatural community, but as a solitary animal, he likes to keep his distance from everything and everyone. He puts all his effort into his struggling restaurant, but when a group of humans try to blackmail him, he realizes he has bigger problems than a failing business.
All Ty Hickey wanted was to get to the community in Myrfolk and find a home within the walls, but the moment he steps off the train, he’s captured by a group of men who shouldn’t know where he is or that he’s a magic user, and yet they do.
Ty’s captors use his sister as leverage to get him to do their bidding, but when he meets Jagger, he sees his chance to get rescued. Magic users are rare, and Jagger can’t leave Ty with the humans. He’s better off coming home with Jagger, right?
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Gay Paranormal Romance: 54,515 words
Chapter 1
Jagger Casely stepped out through the patio door of his house into the foggy August morning and looked around. The community was eerily quiet, doom clinging to the air.
He didn’t like being here.
He was grateful he had the house, relieved there was somewhere safe to shift and be in his jaguar form where humans couldn’t get to him, but he preferred to stay at The Garage.
The Garage was a bar slash restaurant, though these days they only had a few truckers coming in for some food. People who were on their way through Myrfolk and didn’t know it was a community-owned business.
Things truly were going to hell.
Jagger didn’t know how much longer they could keep The Garage open. Not long. Gertrude, the community leader, had hinted about closing a couple of times already. Jagger had been forced to cut the staff in half.
All community-owned restaurants and pubs had been forced to do the same. Saying all sounded as if they had a lot of businesses—they didn’t. At the beginning of the year, they’d had The Bar, The Virgin Drop, The Lighthouse, and The Garage. Now only The Lighthouse and The Garage remained. The other two had been blown to pieces by humans.
He had considered moving, finding another community where he could live, but it was the same everywhere. Laws were being passed to make life harder for supernaturals, and he’d learned the hard way what happened when a jaguar shifter went out on his own. He’d spent years in a cage where humans poked him with cattle prods to make him perform as they wanted.
No, he was better off staying with other supernaturals.
Sighing, he pulled off his shirt. He needed to get out of this skin. As he reached for the button on his jeans, a twig snapped to his right. He had hazel hurdles lining his garden, and right outside it, the back of a blond head poked up.
“Hey!”
The man whirled around and hissed, his eyes shifting into cat. Jagger stared. Fuck. It must be one of the blood slaves. There were no cat shifters other than Gertrude and him… and two of the blood slaves they’d taken a year or two ago. Jagger didn’t keep track. They’d been told to stay away from them, and he had. He stayed away from as many people as he could.
Though, he hadn’t been completely out of the loop. He was aware two of them were doing their best to keep the community members alive. And he was grateful.
Twice a week, there was a crate of veggies for everyone to fetch. He hadn’t been there to collect his. It hadn’t been up and running for more than a few weeks, but so far Seula, one of his employees at The Garage, had fetched his for him.
“I’m sorry.” The man took a step back. His gaze dropped to the ground. “I didn’t think anyone lived here.”
Jagger rubbed his neck with one hand and clutched his shirt in the other. “I haven’t been home much lately.”
The man looked at him, his eyes back to human. “No? Where have you been?” Then he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Sorry. I only wanted…” He gestured at something on the other side of the fence Jagger couldn’t see. He stepped off the patio and slowly walked closer. Yellow mushrooms were peeking up through the soil.
The men held up a book to him, the page revealing a photo of the same kind of mushrooms, chanterelles.
“Are they edible?”
“More than. According to the book, they’re considered a delicacy reserved for royalty in some cultures.”
“In our culture?”
The man pursed his lips. “I’m thinking maybe they can help stretch a meal.” He looked directly into Jagger’s eyes, a bolder move than he’d anticipated, though he did his best not to look threatening at the moment.
“Are they on your land?”
“Nah, my garden ends by this hurdle.” Jagger placed a hand on the woven hazel.
“So you think I can pick them?”
“I guess you would have if I hadn’t been here, so go for it.”
The man gave him a small smile and crouched next to the mushrooms. Jagger watched him for a few seconds. “Do you need something to put them in?” He could most likely scurry up a bag or something.
“Nah.” The man pulled a ratty tote bag out of his pocket. “I’ve taken to carrying one of these with me in case I spot something edible. I’ll think of a way to preserve them. Do you think dehydration would work?” He turned one of them around while a crease formed between his brows.
“Maybe. I always freeze the button mushrooms about to go bad at The Garage. Though I doubt we’ll have use for them now.”
The man looked at him again. “Oh, you’re Jagger?”
Jagger nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Chaton. I live with Asher, but Rue and I have the garden…” His voice died off. “You probably knew already.”
“I assumed you were one of the blood slaves, but I didn’t know you were with Asher.” Wasn’t it weird for a former blood slave to hook up with a vampire? It wasn’t any of his business.
“So are you coming to collect your crate tomorrow? Asher said you haven’t been.”
“Seula has gotten it for me.”
Chaton nodded then grimaced. “I don’t know her, sorry. I hardly know anyone.” He put the chantarelles in the bag. “If you ever find yourself with too many mushrooms, or anything else for that matter, don’t throw them away. Call me, and I’ll try to find a way to get them into the crates.”
Jagger nodded and pulled out his phone. He’d thrown away three heads of lettuce the day before yesterday, which was a waste when people didn’t have nearly enough.
He added Chaton’s number and sent him a text so he’d have his number too.
“Are you gonna pick those?” Chaton pointed at a shrub over the hurdle.
Jagger looked at it. It had been there when he’d moved in many years ago, and he’d done nothing with it. The leaves turned red in the fall. “Are they edible?” There were clusters of black berries.
“Chokeberries? Yes. But unless you pick them now, the birds will get to them.
“Take them. I’ve never picked them.”
“Are you sure? You might get sick of jam, but it’s something to eat in the winter.”
Jagger smiled at him, and it was a foreign motion. He used to smile a lot more than he did these days. “I’ll help you pick them, and you can give everyone a jar.”
“Great! I don’t know if there are enough for ninety jars. Maybe. I’ll have to ask Gertrude to order more of the four- and eight-ounce ones. I was hoping people would be quicker to return them, but I think everyone is stockpiling as much as they can. They know winter won’t yield much more than kale.” He grimaced.
For a second, Jagger regretted having promised his berries away. He hated kale, he’d much rather eat jam to keep from starving. But he knew himself. Without Chaton’s help, the birds would get to the berries before he did.
“Let’s pick them now.” He put on his shirt again. “I’ll get some buckets.”
* * * *
Ty Hickey was struggling in the hold of the gorilla of a man who was pressing his face into the dirty concrete floor. Touch. He needed to touch him with his hands to be able to release his invisible knives, but they knew and made sure to never give him a chance to overpower them.
For months, he and Eir, his sister, had been kept in a basement room with no way out. The thugs who’d taken them had figured out how his skill worked, and they made damn sure his hands never reached them when they were in the basement.
Eir whimpered, and Ty craned his neck to be able to see what was happening. If anyone touched her, he’d kill them all. Slash their brains until there was no way back.
Eir hadn’t made any sounds because someone was threatening her. No, it was the man holding the blade who scared her. Davis, Ty believed his name was. They didn’t talk much when they were in the basement with them, but he’d heard one of the goons call him Davis once.
He scared Ty.
There was something crazed about him. Ty wasn’t entirely sure of the power dynamic in the group, but he believed Davis was the leader. The others listened to his orders, at least. Maybe he had a boss somewhere else. He didn’t appear smart enough to be a leader, but the critters in this group listened, so he had some pull.
“You’re gonna help us, or he gets hurt.” Davis crouched next to Ty and rested the cold blade of the knife against his throat.
There was a rustle of fabric, and Ty guessed Eir was nodding. He couldn’t see her with Davis blocking his view, but since she wasn’t protesting, she was most likely agreeing.
“We have a man upstairs who’s been hurt. You’re going to heal him.”
More rustle and someone walked closer to Eir. Fuck.
Davis pressed the blade harder against the skin on Ty’s throat as if reading his mind. Maybe he was. Ty had never been able to tell if someone was supernatural or not. He guessed vampires and shifters could smell it, but he couldn’t. No one would walk past Eir and not suspect she was supernatural, and while they looked a lot alike apart from the coloring, Ty looked like any other human.
Eir’s hair was snow-white, her eyes so pale blue they were almost see-through. He’d seen her all his life, and to him, she was beautiful in a fae-like way, but most people found her appearance unnerving.
If they wanted unnerving, they should see her when she healed someone. Her hair turned a blueish black, and her eyes filled with ink. It wasn’t her pupils growing. No, black billowed over her eyes until they were covered, whites and all. As if an octopus released its ink.
Davis pushed his shoulder as he stepped away. Coward. Ty’s palms buzzed with the need to release his knives.
“She’ll need food.”
Davis hesitated in the doorway. “What?”
“When she’s healed him, she needs to replenish the energy she’s used.”
Davis snorted and closed the door. Fuck. Ty flung his invisible blades at him, but nothing happened. He needed touch to unleash them.
It had been naive of him to think he could protect them. For most of their lives, they’d stayed hidden. He’d take jobs and pretend to be human, while Eir stayed at home, out of sight.
They’d lived like that for decades, but in the last couple of years, things had changed. Before, his employers hadn’t cared about him being a registered magic user. They’d taken one look at him and deemed him safe. He was an average man—average height, average build, and he didn’t drink blood or turn into an animal. He was safe. Until he wasn’t.
At first, it hadn’t been too bad. Then it had become near impossible to get a job, to rent a place to stay, and in the end, the grocery store in Harton where they’d lived before coming here had refused to let him into the shop.
Eir had seen Gertrude Pechtold on TV, answering questions about the supernatural community in Myrfolk and protesting the outlandish electricity bills. Eir had pleaded with him to go there, had said they’d be safe there, and how the community had a wall to keep the humans out.
Ty had liked the idea, but he should’ve known better. He’d believed if they’d be able to get there, Eir would be free. Or freer, at least. She wouldn’t have to hide inside a house and never show herself. And he had believed he could get them there.
He hadn’t believed anyone would bother them while traveling, and had been more than sure he’d be able to take them out if someone did. Naive, since he never anticipated a group coming after them.
He wasn’t sure how Davis’ crew had known where they were, much less how they had known what their skills were, but they’d rounded them up the moment they’d stepped off the train and brought them here.
It had been months ago, and he was no closer to getting them out than he’d been the first day they’d come here.
Seconds bled into minutes, and minutes turned into half an hour. Normally, it didn’t take long for Eir to heal someone. She touched the injury and forced the body to super-speed the healing. She couldn’t cure death, but almost everything else. The bigger the damage, the more it took out of her, though. And the more minutes ticking by, the more worried he got.
An eternity later, the biggest man in the crew carried Eir into the room. Her raven hair spilled over his meaty arm, and he looked directly at Ty, who scrambled to his feet.
“Did you feed her?”
No reply. He’d never heard this man speak. Ty swept his gaze over Eir. She was out cold, her hands bird-like and the bones in her face standing out as if she was starved. She was.
“She has to eat. You can’t have her heal someone and not give her food.”
“Billy went to get her something.”
Billy? Who the fuck was Billy? “He’ll be here soon?”
Ty could’ve attacked, could’ve touched him and sent invisible daggers into him. They never entered the room alone. This was his chance. The best he’d ever had. But he couldn’t run with Eir unconscious. He couldn’t carry her through town, and there was no way he was leaving without her.
The man didn’t reply.
“Something to drink? With sugar in. If she slips any deeper into unconsciousness, it will be hard for her to come back, and then you’ll have no use of her.”
She was the reason they were here. Ty had no doubt. He was useless, no one ever wanted him around, but a criminal gang would have use for a healer. Or so he assumed. How they’d known what she was still bothered him. Who could’ve told them? He’d been forced to give her name for the train ticket. The law stated you had to identify yourself, and by doing so, the staff knew they were supernaturals.
All supernaturals were tracked when they were traveling these days, but it still explained nothing since it was more in a backlog sort of way. If a crime was committed, the police could check the travel records for anyone dangerous coming into town.
How could a gang like Davis’ get hold of information only law enforcement and those working on the train should have access to?
“I think there is some apple juice in the fridge.”
“A glass and a spoon, please.”
The man studied him for a long time.
“You can feed it to her, if you’re afraid I’ll try something with the spoon… or glass. I’ll stand in the corner.” He moved to the corner to show his willingness to cooperate. He’d promise anything as long as they did something to help Eir regain consciousness. It had to have been a serious injury. What the fuck had they been up to?
He still didn’t know what kind of crimes they did. Were they selling drugs? Weapons? Girls? All of the above?
Most of them carried weapons at all times, and he’d contemplated trying to steal one and shoot their way out of there. But then they’d most likely end up being shot themselves.
Fuck, he needed to get them out of here.
Ofelia Grand 