Today, I have my Holly hat on. Beware of Psychics was released yesterday 🥳 It’s a box set of previously published stories where one of the main characters has some psychic ability. 

The stories included are How to Hook a Vampire, Batshit Bassel, and The Bear Claw. They’re all available on their own, and you can find them in most shops, whereas Beware of Psychics will only be available on Amazon.  

You can read it for free if you’re in KU. 

The only thing the stories have in common is the psychic part. How to Hook a Vampire is about a man who can tell if the answer to a yes/no question is true or not. Batshit Bassel is about a man who thinks all you need is soup and someone who listens when you talk. And The Bear Claw is about a man who can put emotions into baked goods.  

Below you can read the first chapter from Batshit Bassel. 

Beware of Psychis

Having a psychic ability should make life easier, but it isn’t always the case.

In this box set, you’ll meet three men with amazing abilities that could’ve made their lives great, but instead of making things easier, they cause trouble. Either they have to hide what they can do, or they can’t control it. But maybe there is happiness to be found even for an out-of-luck psychic?

Contains the stories:

How to Hook a Vampire: A vampire on guard. A psychic on the run. A cabin with one bed. Jameson trusted the wrong person and hides in his uncle’s fishing cabin. Harland comes back after having fed only to find his home inhabited, and no one is happier than him that he didn’t snack on the sleeping man when it turns out he’s his boss’ nephew. But how long before danger finds them in the cabin?

The Bear Claw: In a world where everyone is either dominant or submissive, Shiro doesn’t have many choices. As a sub, any dom coming to his bakery can give him orders. Pitch wants a mate, but he won’t settle for anything but a true mate. As an alpha shifter, he can have his pick, but his true mate is hiding in the kitchen of a bakery and refuses to see him. How many cups of coffee will it take to lure him out?

Batshit Bassel: Some people perform miracles, others serve soup. Bassel is a psychic with no control over his powers. He’ll never work wonders, but he can serve soup. Thor lost his sister and became the guardian of his nephew, but his life doesn’t have room for a cub. Bassel aches for the little boy cloaked in grief and the growling bear he lives with, but will soup be enough to ease their sorrows?

Buy Link:

Gay Paranormal Romance: 378 pages

Amazon

Excerpt:

(From Batshit Bassel)

Chapter 1

Bassel Uxium handed over soup in a Styrofoam bowl to the woman in front of him and smiled as a sense of satisfaction filled him—hers. He rode the emotion for the short second it lingered in his chest. Often the emotions washing over him were negative, so he cherished the good ones.

His parents had sinned, and he was the product. Malfunctioning. Weird. Batshit.

He’d stopped being angry a long time ago. Anger didn’t serve him, and he was here, was he not? He had his soup stand, and he’d found the perfect spot where he would make the most impact, and where people treated him fairly.

Here many unhappy humans passed by, but Bassel could, and would, give them a warm bowl of love. Soup was therapeutic, and people might not know it, but it helped balance them. It gave them a hot meal, nutrition, and liquid. Doing what he did, he could sneak soup into people’s lives and help ease their suffering without them knowing he was defective.

Witches and psychics paired up with shifters. There was a connection, a mate bond or whatever. According to the tales, you knew the instant you met someone you could pair up with, and the bond would be there for the rest of your lives when you did.

Bassel didn’t think there was anyone for him since he wasn’t like other witches or psychics. His mother was a precog, and his father an empath. They never should have touched each other, much less produced offspring, and his mother should have known. It was her skill, after all, knowing.

The result? Sometimes Bassel experienced things about to happen. Sometimes he lived in people’s emotions, but it was never under his control. He couldn’t look at a person or touch a person and tap into their emotions. If it happened, it happened. Like with the woman now walking down the street. She was cold and hungry, and she’d purchased a bowl of hearty chicken soup. Satisfaction made sense.

Sometimes it was his mother’s precog genes shining through. He could look at a person and see what would happen to them or he could get a feeling. That was when it got tricky. He didn’t know if the feeling was current or future, and if it belonged in the future, there was no guarantee it would happen. Things changed all the time.

Worst of all was when it affected his other senses. He’d smell something about to come later but was unable to sort out if it was the present or future or feel the rain on his skin on a sunny day and not knowing if it meant rain was coming soon or a day from now.

Every day was like walking through a minefield of sensory triggers he couldn’t sort, and sometimes he was unsure of which timeline he was living on, but he’d learn to cope. For the most part.

“Batshit Bassel.”

Bassel struggled to hold on to his pleasant mood as the hyena laughed at him before heading toward Come Inside. He didn’t know if he was a hyena, but he laughed like one every time he was near Bassel.

It was the one downside to this spot. Once Bassel had accepted his fate of never being bonded to a shifter, never being accepted by a witch, and never finding a home with a psychic, he’d set out to make the world a better place. And this sidewalk, right here by the old brick buildings remaining from the industrial era, was where he connected with most lost souls.

A witch or psychic bonded to a shifter was a force to be reckoned with. They could achieve great things, borrowing power from each other. Shifters were strong and agile, fierce and protective. Psychics could see the future and help prevent crimes and catastrophes, predict the economy, and make smart business decisions.

Bassel could serve soup.

He didn’t turn his nose up at it. There were people doing big, amazing things, and there were people who affected the world in a more subtle way. His mission was a subdued approach, a gentle push in the direction of a better day and hopefully a better life—for his customers.

There were many lost souls, scarred souls, lonely souls who needed a bowl of soup. He’d never perform miracles, but he could give people something warm to eat and listen to their problems. He loved doing it. It was fulfilling knowing he’d touched a person’s spirit and made them feel better. He wouldn’t complain if it hadn’t been for the hyena, who most likely wasn’t a hyena.

Though he could be.

Come Inside was a nightclub run by shifters. One night a week they had a drag queen show, and there were small rainbow-colored unicorn sculptures in the windows, so he believed it was a friendly place. For others. Shifters would never welcome him inside since he was faulty, but real witches and psychics, humans, and shifters were accepted as they were.

Longing hit hard, sadly, his own. What would it be like to belong somewhere? To be welcomed with open arms? Missed if you didn’t show? Bassel had no idea.

He pulled in a deep breath and stirred his soups. He always made two different kinds—one with meat and one vegetarian. Today’s options were chicken soup and Moroccan Harira.

Soups spoke to him. Nothing said love like a hot bowl of soup.

Lost in his head, he first didn’t notice the boy nearing him with slow steps. He’d seen him before. Grief clung to him like a wafting cloak, and it broke Bassel’s heart. The boy couldn’t be more than eight years old, if that.

“Hello.” Bassel spoke in a slow, soothing voice as if speaking to a wounded animal. He was. The boy was a shifter and while grief didn’t bleed as a cut would, it was a wound in the soul.

The boy nodded before glancing at Come Inside’s door. Bassel turned to look too but couldn’t see anyone watching them.

“Would you like some soup?”

The boy startled and looked a little afraid, as if Bassel had tried to lure him away with candy.

“I… eh… don’t have any money.”

Bassel shrugged. “Of course not. You’re a child.”

The boy glared at him, and Bassel turned the words over in his head. Were they insulting?

“When you have a job, you can pay me back. Now, do you want chicken soup or chickpea soup?”

The boy scrunched his nose at the mention of chickpeas. “Chicken.”

With a smile, Bassel filled a bowl. “I’m thinking about adding a hotplate or maybe one of those pans to have over an open fire. I could make skillet flatbread to go with the soup. I think people would appreciate it, and if I went with the open fire option, it would help warm people in the winter.” Spring was around the corner, but he was still frozen to the bone every day when he came home, no matter how many layers of clothes he put on. “Or maybe there are portable pizza ovens. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

The boy stared at him as if he was insane—he was.

“Come sit.” He grabbed the folding chair he had standing next to the food cart with one hand while balancing the bowl of chicken soup in the other.

Hesitating for a moment, the boy then slowly neared the chair.

As he sat, Bassel handed him the Styrofoam bowl and a spoon. “Did you have a good day at school?” Bassel assumed he went to school.

The boy nodded and looked away as an ache spread in Bassel’s chest—the boy’s. He had no idea what had triggered the crushing wave of grief washing over him, but something had.

“Oh, sweetheart. Eat your soup. Everything gets better with soup.” He was quiet for a few seconds before asking, “What’s your name?”

“Dag Espen.”

“Oh, you’re a bear?” Espen meant bear, right?

Dag nodded and blew on a spoonful of soup before putting it into his mouth. Warmth spread in Bassel’s soul—all his own. He loved feeding people.

Dag didn’t speak but ate another spoonful and then another.

“What did you get for lunch at school today?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t go to the cafeteria.”

Bassel waited for his emphatic skill to give him any clues on how to proceed with the conversation, but of course, he didn’t get any insight into Dag’s emotions. Never when he wanted them or needed guidance. “Because you brought your own lunch?”

Dag avoided eye contact and ate another spoonful.

Dammit. This was a poor neighborhood. It was one of the reasons Bassel had chosen it as his place. Here he could make a difference. And while he needed people to pay for their soup or he’d go bankrupt in a week flat, he gave away several bowls every day. It was the right thing to do.

“How far away is your school?”

Dag pointed at one of the large industrial buildings with his spoon. “It’s two blocks over.”

Ah, Bassel knew the one. “Is your lunch break long enough for you to get here and make it back in time for your next lesson?”

Dag looked at him for a long moment. There was longing in his eyes, and Bassel bit his tongue not to offer to bring soup to his school. Lunch was when he sold the most soup. If he left the food cart in the middle of the day, he’d lose customers.

“I can make it here, but I have no money.”

Bassel smiled. He didn’t know who Dag’s parents were, and he wouldn’t go searching. If they couldn’t afford to give him money to go to the school cafeteria, and they couldn’t afford to pack him lunch, then Bassel would make sure he got a bowl of soup. Who knew? It might be the only cooked meal the boy got all day.

“Great! Which is your favorite kind of soup?”

Wide eyes met his, then they filled with tears struggling not to trickle over. “Mom used to make tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Oh…” Bassel noted the used to but didn’t want to ask what the past tense meant. “Then we’re back to the bread problem. We should find a solution. I like the open fire idea, but do you think the surrounding businesses would object?” He twirled his finger around, indicating the buildings around them. They were mostly offices, but there was the bar and one woo-woo shop. Woo-woo shop wasn’t the accepted term, but Bassel had gone there to introduce himself, certain he’d be sneered at by a witch or psychic, but it was a plump, gray-haired human woman running it. He’d been pleasantly surprised even though it meant the crystals and protective spells she sold were fake.

* * * *

The next day, Thor Espen growled as he walked through the empty bar. It was still early, and his staff hadn’t arrived yet. Normally, he slept this time of day, but since Karla had died a couple of months ago, he now had to get up and make sure the cub got to school.

Kids weren’t anything he’d ever wanted. They did not fit his lifestyle, but he couldn’t allow his nephew to disappear into foster care. He’d promised Karla to take care of him. The problem was, Thor knew nothing about children. He set the alarm every morning to wake Dag and made sure he ate breakfast before he went to school. Then he hardly saw the boy all day. By the time he got back from school, the bar had opened, and while there weren’t many customers until the after-work crowd, everyone was busy with preparations.

He pulled out a chair from one of the tables and sat, cradling his head in his hands. He was so tired. Yawning, he allowed his elbows to slide over the table before folding his arms and resting his cheek on top of them. He couldn’t go on like this. Two months without proper sleep made him prickly, and yesterday he’d dropped a bottle while working the bar. It could happen to anyone, but Thor hadn’t dropped a bottle in a decade or two. Sleep deprivation made him uncoordinated.

He needed a nanny. Did people still have nannies?

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d promised Karla to take care of Dag, to raise him as if he was his own. Thor was the only family he had since the no-good witch Karla had bound herself to went and got himself blown up in some huge magical experiment. Part of him was glad it had happened when Dag only was a few months old. No kid should lose both their parents before they turned eight, so it was good he didn’t remember his father. Or would it have been better for him to have the memory?

Thor didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. These were the cards they’d been dealt. It was unfair, and Thor wanted to object. He wanted to file a complaint to the universe or whoever it was deciding who lived and who died, but no one was willing to listen. Bears didn’t get sick, and yet Karla had faded away right in front of him.

He closed his eyes, trying to fight the memories wanting to surface of her in a hospital bed. Who had taken care of the boy while she’d been in the hospital? Thor should ask someone. His breaths grew deeper and his muscles slowly unclenched. Maybe whoever it was could look after him again.

“Boss!”

Thor flew to his feet, his hands changing to bear paws as he swiped the air. Ed, his chef, stood at a good distance. “Oh, hi.”

“The kid is chatting to Batshit Bassel.” Ed scrunched his face as if he’d smelled rotten fish.

“Who?” Thor tried to clear his head. Fuck, he’d fallen asleep. The kid—as in Dag?—was talking to who? Did it matter who he talked to?

“The soup freak outside.”

Thor willed his paws back to human hands before rubbing his face. “Who?”

“The guy outside, the one with the food cart.” Ed widened his eyes while making a face, telling Thor he’d better get his brain cells to wake up because this was important.

“Is he a pedophile?”

“No! Or I don’t know, maybe.” Ed shrugged but didn’t look satisfied with Thor’s reaction.

“If he isn’t a threat to Dag, why can’t he talk to him?”

Ed huffed. “You’re his dad now. You need to be a role model. You can’t let him make friends with freaks.”

Thor took a moment to breathe. Maybe he wasn’t awake enough yet to understand the conversation. He didn’t know the soup guy, had never spoken to him, and didn’t know what he looked like. Average height, on the slim side, but he couldn’t say what color his hair was and he wouldn’t have recognized him if he’d met him on the street.

He arrived there around ten in the morning and left around three, from what he’d heard from the staff. He’d been in to introduce himself when he’d first started selling his soups several months ago, but Thor had been in the office at the time so it had been Ed, Adam, and Jenny who’d talked to him, and he’d never gone out there to chat to him.

“And he’s a freak?” Thor didn’t like the term. As the owner of a queer club, he’d been called many things, and most often for no other reason than bigotry.

Ed shook his head. “He’s an abomination.”

Thor straightened his back. Abomination? He’d been called that too, and few things infuriated him more. “Is he?”

“He’s not right! His mom had him with one of her own. He’s inbred.” Distaste colored the words, and a responding revulsion wrapped around Thor. But it couldn’t be true. If a woman got pregnant with a family member, surely she’d have the fetus removed? Nausea climbed his throat, and he forced his brain to stop painting pictures. If it was true, it wasn’t the soup guy’s fault, and forbidding Dag to speak to him because of sins his parents had committed didn’t sit right with him.

“Is he… disabled?” What were the signs of inbreeding?

Shrugging, Ed walked farther into the room. “He isn’t right.”

“Isn’t right how? If he can run a business, it can’t be too bad.” Maybe a food cart didn’t demand the same brain capacity as running a bar, but there was still a lot to be done, invoices, bookkeeping, and so on.

“He isn’t right.” Ed didn’t change his words, he only spoke louder, which made Thor frown. Seconds went by, then Ed huffed again. There was a lot more huffing and shrugging than Ed normally indulged in.

“He has no skill. His mom was a precog and his dad was an empath. It isn’t right. Now he’s here, selling soup on our doorstep, and he’s as useless as a human.”

Not inbred, but two psychics reproducing. Ed was correct. It wasn’t right, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Thor had envisioned. You couldn’t bond with the same breed as yourself, and having offspring was extremely unusual, both because it most often didn’t take and because no one wanted a child with someone they weren’t bonded to.

“He didn’t inherit any skill?” So he was like a human. They didn’t shun humans. Many of their patrons were human. Jenny was human. He wouldn’t sleep with one, but he didn’t dislike them on sight.

“He’s creepy as fuck. Go out there and talk to him. You’ll feel the wrongness from a mile away.”

“Creepy?” Would Dag talk to him if he were creepy? “What time is it?” Shouldn’t Dag be in school? He hadn’t slept for that long, had he?

“Noon. I have the dentist at three, so I thought I’d come in early and prepare and then come back after the appointment.”

Thor nodded. As Ed spoke, he remembered him saying something about it. Shit, he’d never forgotten his staff’s changed work hours a couple of months ago. “What’s Dag doing home at noon?”

Fear gripped his heart. Had something happened to him? With a growl, he stomped toward the door.

Today, we have the lovely Addison Albright on a visit. She’s here to tell us a little about her latest release, The Faction Box Set. Welcome, Addison 🥰

Hello everyone, and many thanks to the lovely Ofelia Gränd for letting me ramble a bit on her blog and tell you about the release of my new box set for The Faction duology.

What’s an author to do when they’ve written a story, but the characters (and/or universe) stick with them? I tend to go a couple of different ways with this.

One, as I mentioned in my guest post over on Ellie Thomas’s blog yesterday, I have a tendency to go easy on my characters at first, then write sequels/continuations for them later, ramping things up. It’s never intentional, I always figure the story I’ve written is complete as it is, and sometimes we just want a cozy little story.

This is what happened with my vampires. Although the first half of the duology is a complete, albeit mild, story in its own right, the second half picks up immediately after to continue their story with heavier drama.

But what else do I do when the characters and/or their universe stick around in my mind? Sometimes they don’t give me a fresh novella’s worth of story, but just fun scenes, and thus my bonus scenes are born.

If you read The Faction Box Set (or have already read the two books in it, The Recruit and The Choice), then you might be happy to know that I’ve written more than a handful of bonus scenes for them. Well, more than a handful if you count the universe they live in but featuring different vamps.

I’ve rewritten the park scene in The Recruit from Albert’s POV (told in three parts). This is the scene where Albert, the local faction leader, approaches Phillip (whose new identity after he turns will be Neil). Although the original was a fun scene from Phillip’s POV as he processes Albert’s offer, I thought it was a perfect pivotal scene to take another look at from Albert’s perspective.

I’ve also written a continuation scene featuring both Albert and Phillip/Neil. And now there’s my ongoing serial featuring vamps from the same universe (which, as it turns out, is the same universe as in Weekend at Bigfoot’s, and also features the MCs from that novella). There are four parts to that so far on my website, and another that just went out in my newsletter last week (it’ll be added to my website, too, next month, or you can read the online NL archive of it, here).

It tells the tale of what might happen when a Bigfoot shifter finds himself unable (due to last-minute events outside his control) to get home to his sequoia forest for his annual birthday shift. In the aforementioned continuation scene, my vampires first learn of the existence of Bigfoot shifters, and of course they’ve kept a close eye on them since. So, when Oliver and Wilson run into trouble, my vampires come to their rescue. But not without a few snags to contend with.

Bonus scenes are probably my biggest outlet for relieving my existing-MCs-on-the-brain pressure. I think the only one of my published books without any is Closets Are for Clothes. All the others have quite a few. Some have at least a novella’s worth of words written adding scenes to the published stories.

Worth checking out, eh?

BOOK INFO

Genre: Gay Paranormal Romance Box Set

Length: Novel Length / 50,862 Words / 179 Pages

Heat Rating: 2 Flames

Goodreads :: BookBub ::_QueeRomance Ink :: LimFic

PURCHASE LINKS

✩ Available in Kindle Unlimited ✩

Amazon Kindle

The Faction Box Set

A dying man, a chance for life. A dangerous obsession, an unenviable choice.

When the faction’s new recruit takes a misstep on his first solo outing as a vampire, Albert thinks his faction has controlled the fallout. Neil, née Phillip, is thankful for his new lease on life, but will give it all up if that will prevent his ex-boyfriend from having to pay for his mistake. This box set includes both books in Addison Albright’s best-selling M/M vampire duology.

Contains the stories:

The Recruit: Albert Manlii has walked this earth for many years and leads a faction of highly organized vampires carefully guarding the secret of their existence. Potential recruits are carefully selected and presented with an offer. Phillip Brewer has weeks to live — if he lets his disease run its course. He doesn’t want to die, but will his desire to live outweigh his concerns about the vampires’ ethics?

The Choice: Now that faction-leader Albert has a blood-mate, he finds himself second-guessing his decisions. Neil would be crushed knowing the mistake he’d made as a fledgling vampire led to human deaths, but Albert shouldn’t factor that into the difficult choices he must make. Will Albert’s indecision put the entire vampire establishment in danger? Or is redemption only a flamethrower away?

EXCERPT

“Please.” Phillip swallowed as a shiver of hope drifted over his skin. “I need you to spell out what you meant—earlier. Before your demonstration.”

Albert smiled. It was the smile of a man who sensed he had his fish on the hook. “About helping each other?”

Phillip nodded.

“You don’t need to die yet. I’ve been walking this earth for more than two thousand years.” Albert spoke calmly as Phillip froze in place, clenching his hands at his belly.

Two thousand years? And he wanted to make a deal with Phillip? Did Phillip want to? What was in it for him? Everlasting life, apparently. But would it be an existence he wanted? “Who are you? You’re immortal. But how?”

“Immortal in the sense that I, and others like me, won’t appear to become older beyond our age at the time of transition. Nor will we die of natural causes. We can be killed, though. You’ve witnessed my self-healing abilities, but anything that would instantly kill a human will kill me…us, too.”

“So, if I agreed, this cancer would disappear just like that?” Phillip snapped his fingers.

“Like all of our ‘supernatural’ capabilities, self-healing improves over time. As a new convert, you won’t immediately feel better. It’ll take about a day for you to feel one hundred percent.”

That was hardly a deterrent, but Albert was obviously holding back. What facilitated this “transition”? “You still haven’t answered the question. Who are your people?”

Albert hesitated for a moment before replying. “The word you’re searching for is ‘vampire.’”

Phillip burst out laughing. He didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking Albert’s answer would be, but the existence of some kind of magical immortality potion was difficult enough to believe without throwing in something that absurd.

Albert’s revelation probably should have made Phillip run in the opposite direction—if he’d believed it, or made him angry—because really, what kind of person fucked with a dying man like that? But at least his final hours were diverting. “You had me going there for a while.”

Tilting his head to the side, Albert raised a single eyebrow as he continued to gaze at Phillip. “Not the usual reaction. Intriguing, though. You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Please,” Phillip scoffed and gestured toward the bright sun overhead.

ABOUT ADDISON ALBRIGHT

Rainbow Award winning author Addison Albright lives smack dab in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay romance in contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and science fiction genres. She generally adds a subtle touch of humor, a dash of drama/angst, and a sprinkle of slice-of-life to her stories. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, French fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

Website/Blog :: Facebook :: Twitter :: BlueSky :: TikTok :: BookBub :: Newsletter Signup

Hello, everyone! I’m here as Holly today because we have a new story out! 🥳 Squirrel Hunt was released a few days ago, and I wrote it to celebrate Read in the Bathtub Day.  

It’s a lot of fun to write squirrel shifters, and I don’t think I’m done with the guys in Doson just yet. The first book in the series is Squirrel Circus, but you don’t have to read it to read Squirrel Hunt.   

It’s the same world and a few of the characters in Squirrel Circus make an appearance in Squirrel Hunt too, but we also meet a lot of new characters, and the plots of the two stories aren’t intertwined. My goal is to keep it that way even if (when) I write more stories in the series.  

It’s fated mates, interspecies couple, there is a little kidnapping and other fun things going on, and I thought I’d leave you with the first chapter below 😊 

Squirrel Hunt

The smartest thing a squirrel can do is avoid werewolves, not get mated to one. 
 
All Dahy Doocey wants is an unlimited supply of nuts and a safe place to stay. As a squirrel shifter, he always has to hide and watch out for stupid wolves and other predators. Frozen and starving, he reaches out to a friend, not knowing she recently mated a shifter. She agrees to hide him anyway, but now he’s neck-deep in wolves. Not ideal. 
 
Konrad Broody is the alpha of a werewolf pack. When he agreed to hide a friend of the newest pack member, he assumed it was a human woman, not a squirrel. And he certainly didn’t believe Dahy would turn out to be his mate. The problem is squirrels often end up dead when spending time around wolves. 
 
Konrad will fight anyone who dares go near Dahy, but when Dahy goes missing, there is no one he can fight. Dahy should’ve known hanging around wolves would get him in trouble. How will he be able to escape the idiots keeping him prisoner before they eat him? Stupid wolves. 

Buy links: 

Paranormal Gay Romance: 39,881 words 

JMS Books :: Amazon :: Books2Read 

Chapter 1

Dahy Doocey hid in a tree outside a bakery. He’d spent three nights in the small park across from it, both because he liked the scents coming from the building, and because kind people who fed the birds worked there. Every day someone topped off the bird feeder with seeds and nuts, and Dahy wasn’t sure he’d survive the February cold if they hadn’t.

He’d come to Doson on a whim. Or, not a whim. He’d been all over the country, always moving around, always staying hidden, but he’d heard his cousin, Jyran, lived here. Cousins were a loose concept among squirrels. Jyran was his mother’s sister’s mate’s third cousin or something. Close enough, and if one squirrel could survive in Doson, then maybe two could, too. Or not.

Squirrels didn’t stand much of a chance anywhere, and Dahy didn’t know how much longer he could go on. Any day now, some predatory shifter would find and eat him.

Staying in cities wasn’t smart. He had a far greater chance of survival if he stuck to the forests far from civilization, but Dahy was touch-starved, not only physical touch, though it was part of it, but intellectually starved. He hadn’t spoken to a person in ages. Not face-to-face, at least.

He had his phone, charger, and a change of clothes hidden in a tree a block away, but he hadn’t dared to change into human form since he got here. He should check in with Myka though. He’d said he was coming here, but she’d told him she was away on a trip and wouldn’t be back until Thursday. He didn’t know if it was true or not. He wouldn’t blame her if it was a lie.

He was a random guy on the internet who’d struck up a conversation and then said he’d come to her town. It was a massive red flag, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d have most likely lied too, had he been in her shoes, so he didn’t blame her.

He couldn’t go on like this. He had to find a place to live, a job, and steady meals that weren’t birdseeds.

Tucking his tail around himself, he sat on a branch for a few minutes. He’d try to contact her again, ask if she could recommend somewhere he could stay in the least creepy-stalkery way he could come up with.

He ran along the branch, jumped to the neighboring tree, and climbed down its trunk. He had to run a few feet on the ground, and he carefully scented the air before jumping from the tree. All he could smell was exhaust from the cars, bread from the bakery, and humans. No wolves, no bears, no other shifters. They could appear fast, though, so lack of scent didn’t mean he was safe. And vampires didn’t have a scent at all. On the other hand, vampires didn’t care about squirrels, so he didn’t have them on his list of enemies.

He scurried from tree to tree, spent a few minutes in a hollow trunk about halfway to his hiding place to make sure no one was following him. Then he climbed high into the tree next to the one where he had his clothes and phone hidden.

There he waited until it got dark. The days were short in February, and the wind was icy, so there weren’t many people around. He chanced a jump over to his hiding tree and shifted into his human form. If he’d believed the night had been cold before, it was nothing compared to sitting naked on a branch where the freezing air could wrap around him.

Shivering, he reached into the hollow in the trunk. The clothes were damp despite it not having rained or snowed for several days, and he could hardly get his fingers to work when trying to button his dirty jeans. He didn’t have any socks, and the yellow Crocs he’d stolen a few towns over were two sizes too big.

With a sigh, he reached into the hollow and got hold of the phone. It took some time to get it to start, and he’d soon need to find a way to charge it, but he was good for now.

He found the conversation with Myka, apologized for bothering her again, and asked if she knew of somewhere he could hole up for a few days.

There was a reply almost instantly where she listed the only hotel in Doson and a bed and breakfast on the outskirts.

Dahy gritted his teeth. He couldn’t afford a hotel. He had a credit card, but with no income, he wouldn’t be able to pay off his debts if he used it to pay for a hotel.

He answered her, trying not to sound too pathetic but telling her he was on the run and couldn’t stay anywhere where people could track him. It was only half a lie. He didn’t think anyone was actively hunting him, but if a shifter found out there was a squirrel shifter in town—one who wasn’t mated to a wolf—they’d track him down and kill him.

Several minutes went by, and there was no reply from Myka. If she was smart, she’d block him, but he hoped she wouldn’t.

When the phone buzzed in his hand, he almost dropped it. She wrote she was seeing some friends at seven tonight, but if he wanted to, she could meet him for a coffee at Mildred’s in half an hour. Dahy had no idea where or what it was, but he was freezing his ass off and desperately wanted to be inside somewhere.

Was it safe to go into a restaurant or coffee shop or whatever Mildred’s was, though? All it took was one wolf getting a whiff of him—or bear, or lion, or whatever else might live here.

In the end, he agreed. Worst case scenario, he’d get eaten, best case, she’d take one look at his pathetic self and want to help him.

* * * *

More than one person turned to stare at him as he entered Mildred’s. It was a coffee shop with old-fashioned interior design. The chairs and tables didn’t match, and neither did the cups and plates, but it was cozy. Lots of scarred surfaces and dim lights.

He took several deep breaths, but there were too many scents to know if he was safe. When the door opened behind him, he was forced to take a step forward. He spotted a dark-haired woman sitting alone by a table, and he was almost certain it was Myka. She hadn’t shared a lot of photos of herself on her social media, but he’d seen some.

Carefully, he walked in her direction, ignoring the group of teenage girls giggling when he passed their table. It was the yellow Crocs, or maybe it was his dirty clothes and unwashed hair. Who could tell with teenagers?

The closer he came to the table, the more alarm bells went off in his head, and he almost stumbled backward when Myka looked up at him.

She smelled of wolf.

A pained sound escaped him, and his heart went into overdrive.

“Dahy?” Her voice was soft, and she tilted her head to the side.

He looked around, expecting to be jumped by a pack of wolves any second. He turned to run, only to bump into a massive man.

“Oh, careful there. Good I was going for a refill and not the other way around.” The man held up an empty cup and smiled at him. Human.

A hand grabbed his arm, and he barked—not a human sound. Myka’s eyes widened. “Oh…” Then she frowned. “What… eh…” The frown deepened. “Are you a… wolf?”

“What?” He stared at her. She smelled of wolf, but this close, Dahy could tell she wasn’t one. She was with one. This was a trap. He whimpered and yanked to get her to let go.

“Sit, Dahy.”

He shook his head and wished the human man would move faster so he could run toward the door without causing too much of a scene.

“Come on now. Sit.”

He shook his head again.

“I’ll get us a cup of coffee, and you’ll tell me… I always imagined bears would be big in human form, but maybe that’s prejudice.”

Dahy’s mouth dropped open, then he composed himself. “What?”

“If you’re not a wolf, you have to be a bear, right? I’m pretty new to this world, and I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m sorry if I did.”

Dahy gaped at her, then he snorted only to chuckle. When the chuckle threatened to turn into something resembling sobs, he snapped his mouth shut to prevent any sound from leaving him.

She looked into his eyes. “Sit. I’ll get coffee or do you prefer tea or eh… hot cocoa?”

“Cocoa.”

She smiled, nodded, and gestured at the chair. “Don’t run. You’re safe, I promise.”

He wanted to scoff. Safe. She believed he was a bear.

It didn’t take long before she was back carrying two large mugs, one with tea and one with whipped cream on top. She placed the mugs on the table and sat. “So… you need a place to hide?”

Dahy glanced over his shoulder. There was a long line by the counter. How had she managed to get their drinks so fast? “Where did you get these?”

“Oh, I work here. I’m off now, but I popped in behind the counter and fixed them.” She blew on her tea. “Enjoy. They’re on the house.” She winked.

Dahy cradled the mug in his hands, allowing the warmth to seep into his soul.

“You’re hiding from someone?” Her voice was no louder than a whisper.

“Several someones.”

She grimaced. “I don’t know much. I’m mated to Roan who’s part of the local pack. I could ask him.”

Dahy shook his head and nearly spilled his cocoa.

She sighed. “I could… Konrad Brody is the alpha.”

Ice washed through Dahy’s veins. She wanted to take him to the alpha?

“He’s a reasonable man.”

Dahy scrunched his nose. No, alphas were not reasonable men. They were brutal and ruthless. They had to be if they were going to keep a pack in line. And sometimes they needed to reward their pack with a squirrel hunt or two. He’d heard wolves took great pleasure in those.

“I could ask if there is some place you can stay for a while.” She grimaced. “I know there are a few empty apartments at the moment.”

“Apartments?” Did wolves live in apartments?

“Or cabins. People who are away on pack business. Sometimes, they’re sent to neighboring packs to help out with certain things. It was how I met Roan. I’m not from here. I met him at a coffee shop where I was working in Ordbury. It’s about an hour’s drive from here. He was loaned out to the pack there for six months.” She beamed at him.

Loaned out? They loaned people out? He’d always known wolves were insane.

“I could ask Konrad.”

Dahy shook his head.

“He doesn’t need to know you’re a bear. I can tell him you’re human. A friend of mine from Ordbury who needs a place to hide for a few weeks.”

“Scent.” Dahy took a sip of cocoa and almost groaned. He hadn’t had anything but birdseed for days.

“We’ll drench you in perfume.” She laughed. “Roan hates it when I use perfume. He says he can’t smell me under all the crap stinging his nose.”

Dahy hated perfume too, but it could work. For a short amount of time. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, Dahy. You can’t walk around dressed like that in the middle of winter.” She gestured at him. “People are gonna notice, and then you won’t be able to hide.”

He didn’t tell her he spent most of his time in squirrel form; it would ruin the illusion she was creating. “I don’t have any money.” He gestured at himself. “This is all I have, and my phone and charger.” He tapped his pocket where he’d stuffed the charger.

“I’ll call Konrad.” She shot to her feet. “I’ll do it outside. Wait here.” She hurried off, and fear curled an icy fist around his heart. What if she called the pack and told them she had a squirrel trapped in a coffee shop?

He searched for a back door. A fire exit. Something. The restroom. Some restrooms had windows you could get out through. But if he rushed in there and there were no windows—

“He said you could stay in Farris’ cabin.”

Dahy screeched and several people turned to stare at him. Myka frowned. “Eh… Konrad said Farris’ cabin is empty at the moment. Or not empty, it’s furnished, but he’s not there. Konrad said you can stay for a couple of weeks if you agree to keep the plants alive. Apparently, he goes there to water every Sunday.”

Dahy nodded.

“Awesome! Let’s go get the key, and I’ll drop you off before I meet the girls.” She glanced at her phone, checking the time. “We better hurry. Konrad lives outside of town in the opposite direction of Farris who also lives outside of town, so there will be some driving.”

Gulping down the cocoa, Dahy hoped he hadn’t signed his death warrant.

“We need to pop into Bella’s before we go and buy something to disguise your scent.”

“Bella’s?”

“One of the girls.” She grinned at him. “Everyone has been so friendly here. Bella has become one of my best friends. She runs the shop next door; sells makeup and perfumes and stuff. Cheap-ish, so there are mostly teenage girls shopping there, but I’m sure we can find something sufficient.”

Dahy might have longed for human interaction, but he feared he was going into overload. Myka had a lot going on.