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  Bitten

  N.I.T.E, Book 1

  Copyright © by Kali Argent

  Bitten

  Xander Cole isn’t looking forward to returning to his birth pack, even if it’s only for a few days. When human women start disappearing near the small town of Broken Ridge, however, the Justice Council wants answers. As part of an elite group of paranormal soldiers known at N.I.T.E, it’s Xander’s job to get them.

  Sasha Pierson set out in search of a new life but getting kidnapped by monsters and forced into a fight to the death isn’t exactly what she had in mind. Mating a werewolf wasn’t supposed to happen, either, but she can’t deny the instant attraction that burns between her and Xander.

  They’re destined to be together, but when a rogue pack wants them both dead, is fate enough to ensure their happily-ever-after?

  Warning: This is an insta-love story featuring a dangerously sexy alpha hero, his fated mate, and enough heat to set your e-reader on fire. If that’s not your jam, this probably isn’t the book for you.

  BITTEN

  Copyright © August 2019 by Kali Argent

  Cover Art by Black Butterfly Designs

  Published by PECCAVI PRESS

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, except for the case of brief quotations in reviews and articles.

  Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Bitten

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  More from Kali Argent

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “I’m thinking it’s your alternator, but I’ll know for sure once I get it back to the garage.”

  Standing on the side of the road in some nowhere Texas town she’d never heard of, Sasha Pierson rubbed her temples, trying to fend off the building headache. “And how long will that take to fix?”

  The local mechanic rested his hand on the opened hood of her car and stared down at the engine. “Not long, but I probably won’t be able to get the part until tomorrow.”

  She’d been afraid of that. On the other hand, she’d been driving for eighteen solid hours. It was getting late, the sun was already starting to set, and hot shower followed by a soft bed sounded like heaven right about then.

  Besides, it wasn’t like she had anywhere to be. Hell, she didn’t even really know where she was going. She’d just packed her bags, started driving, and she hadn’t stopped since.

  “Is there a place around here I can stay?”

  “Of course.” The mechanic grinned toothily as he closed the hood on her beat-up sedan, then brushed his hands against the legs of his stained coveralls. “There’s a bed and breakfast a couple of miles down the road. Grab your stuff, and I’ll give you a lift.”

  Sasha bit her lip, looking between her Honda and the mechanic. “What about my car?”

  “Don’t worry, Miss. Ain’t nobody going to bother it. Once I drop you off, I’ll come back and pick it up. Won’t take ten minutes.”

  Not seeing that she had much of a choice, she smiled thinly and went to collect her two suitcases from the trunk.

  The ride to the B&B was short but pleasant, and her chauffer—Dale, she’d learned—kept up a constant stream of chatter the entire way. When he pulled into the gravel parking lot in front of a quaint two-story house with pale blue siding and a covered, wooden porch, her mouth fell open in shock.

  Smiling jack-o-lanterns lined the front steps, and a plastic skeleton sat in one of the rocking chairs by the front door. Painted garbage bags made to look like ghosts and pumpkins littered the leaf-strewn lawn, and large, glittering bats swayed from tree branches in the breeze.

  The place had clearly been decorated to the nines for Halloween, and it was absolutely perfect.

  Once Dale had helped her carry her bags inside, he disappeared to tend to her car, leaving her in the care of an aging couple who greeted her with smiles and hugs. Abandoned on the day of her birth, then bounced around between foster families for eighteen years, Sasha wasn’t used to such open affection, and she tensed when they surrounded her. If either of them noticed her awkwardness, they didn’t mention it.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” the woman cooed, holding Sasha by the shoulders as she looked her up and down. “I’m Clara, and this is my husband, Tom. Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ve got a nice room for you, and Dale will get you back on the road in no time.”

  She was a plump woman, with tight, gray curls and half-moon glasses perched on the end of her nose. Sasha didn’t have much experience with grandparent-types, but Clara reminded her of the kindly old ladies from fairy tales, complete with a flowery apron over her summer dress.

  “Come on, hon,” Tom added as he reached for the handle of the nearest suitcase. “Let’s get you settled, and when you’re ready, just come on down to the kitchen. Clara makes the best biscuits in the state.”

  Sasha wasn’t exaggerating when she decided he looked exactly like Santa Claus from his rounded belly to his bushy, snow-white beard that hung down over the collar of his red polo shirt. Hell, there was even a twinkle in his eye when he winked at her.

  “Thank you.” She gave them a genuine smile. “Please don’t go to any trouble, though. I really just need a shower and some sleep.”

  “Well, that’s just fine. Go on.” Clara shooed her toward the staircase. “You rest, and I’ll bring you up something in a bit, just in case you get hungry later.”

  After thanking them again, Sasha followed Tom up the staircase, carrying the smaller of her two bags in both hands. Five minutes later, she was alone at last, standing in the middle of a charming room that looked like it could have been featured on the front cover of Country Living.

  A checkered quilt covered the queen-sized bed, and artificial vines with autumn-colored flowers wound up the columns of the four-poster frame. A wooden rocking chair with squashy, green cushions sat near the window, overlooking the back lawn. Her accommodations even came with a private bathroom, complete with a clawfoot tub she couldn’t wait to take for a test drive.

  Growing up as a warden of the state, she’d learned to take advantage of any small luxury that came her way. Between foster families with more kids than space, and group homes with rickety bunkbeds, privacy had been right at the top of that list.

  She’d never stayed in one place too long, always being shuffled from one set of guardians to the next. Nine different houses, nine different schools, and not once had she ever felt like she truly belonged. Those people had never been her family. The houses had never been her home.

  When she’d graduated high school, she’d been forced out into the world on her own whether she was ready or not—and she hadn’t been. Still, she’d tried to make the best of it, finding a job at a crappy diner that had paid just enough for her to afford the rent on her even crappier, subsidized apartment. Financial aid had helped pay her way through cosmetology school, and for three years, she’d thrown everything she had into building a life for herself.

  Yet, there had still been something missing. Though she interacted with people every day, with no family and no real friends, she was still just as lonely as ever. Maybe even more so. It was a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, an empty ache that no matter how hard she tried, she could never fill.

  At twenty-one, she was too
young to feel so damn tired and weary.

  Then, three days ago, she’d received a notice that the lease on her apartment was up for renewal…with a sizeable increase in rent. She couldn’t say exactly why that had been her breaking point, but the next day, she’d quit her job at Nita’s Hair Salon, packed everything she could fit into her small sedan, and made arrangement for a local charity group to pick up the rest.

  Without a plan or even a destination, she’d left Cincinnati just before midnight, and the longer she’d driven, the more anxious she’d felt. Not because she’d left behind everything she’d ever known. Not because she was essentially homeless, and her bank account total was only in the triple digits. It was an excited nervousness, like the last click on the uphill climb of a roller coaster.

  But there was also a nagging urgency, as if some invisible clock was ticking closer to an appointment she didn’t remember making. Even now, exhausted and desperate for sleep, her body thrummed with restlessness, and she had the insane urge to leave her bags, her car, and just start walking.

  There was something out there waiting for her, calling to her, compelling her to keep moving. She could feel it as distinctly as she felt the steady rhythm of her pulse. Sometime during the night, she’d realized she wasn’t running away from something. She was running towards it.

  She just wished to hell she knew what “it” was.

  A knock at the bedroom door startled her so badly she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream. Once she realized it was probably just Clara with the food she’d promised, Sasha laughed at herself. Yeah, she definitely needed some sleep.

  “Coming,” she called as she rounded the bed. “You really didn’t have to—” The words died on her lips when she pulled the door open to find not the sweet-faced Clara, but two rough-looking men the size of small mountains. “Oh.” Instinctively, she took a step back. “Um, can I help you?”

  “She’ll do.” The one with the shaved head and an ugly scar on his upper lip smiled at her, revealing long, pointed fangs. “Grab her and let’s go.”

  Legs shaking and heart pounding, Sasha stumbled deeper into the room, frantically searching for an exit. With no way out, she sprinted for the bathroom, hoping to at least buy herself some time to come up with a better plan. Any hope of outrunning them, however, died swiftly when the second man caught her around the waist and jerked her off her feet.

  Kicking and flailing, she screamed over and over until a hard blow to her temple silenced her. Pain exploded in her head, her vision dimmed, and the last thing she saw before passing out was two sets of glowing, amber eyes staring down at her.

  ~

  Heavy metal blared from the speakers set into each corner of the ramshackle building, the music loud enough to vibrate the tacky neon signs on the wall. The scent of beer, sweat, and sex lingered throughout the room. A hazy cloud of smoke hovered at eye level above the battered oak bar. Billiard balls clacked together and thudded against the bumpers of the pool tables. Several growls and grunts, calls and responses, echoed through the building.

  Somewhere in a shadowy corner, a female moaned.

  It had been a long fucking time since Xander Cole had stepped foot inside the dive known simply as The Bane. When he’d left Broken Ridge, he’d done so with the expectation that he’d never have to see the town limits again. Moreover, he had zero desire to be anywhere near the pack’s shitty hangout, not if he could help it.

  Clearly, it couldn’t be helped.

  The Justice Council had been pretty adamant about sending him specifically, insisting he knew the area and pack better than anyone. Once upon a time, that might have been true. A decade ago, Xander would have known their routines, their running grounds, their traditions, and their secrets, but things changed. Although, judging by the number of familiar faces in The Bane, maybe not as much as they should have.

  His boots thumped over the creaking floor, the metal buckles clinking with every step. He wasn’t the same male he’d been ten years ago, but he knew how to act the part. Making his way to the bar, he clapped some shaved-head, muscle-bound pup on the shoulder, digging his fingers into the guy’s meaty shoulder.

  “You’re in my seat.”

  The male lifted his head slowly, his shoulder tensing beneath Xander’s hand, but he didn’t turn. “Fuck off.”

  Xander smirked.

  Gripping the back of the pup’s thick neck, he slammed his face down on the bar, snorting when the kid growled obscenities at him. Behind him, a few other males turned, a couple moving closer, but no one interfered. He’d known they wouldn’t, but he stared them down anyway, letting the amber glow bleed into his irises before returning his attention to the puffed-up wolf currently struggling against his grip.

  “Maybe you didn’t hear me.” He leaned over the guy, his lips close to the pup’s ear, but he spoke at a normal volume. “You’re in my fucking seat.”

  He jerked the guy back by the collar of his sweat-stained, gray T-shirt, toppling him off the barstool so that he landed on his back. The guy’s scarred upper lip curled back from his teeth, his canines elongating as he jackknifed to his feet with a menacing growl. Exasperated by the asshole’s posturing, Xander bared his own fangs and growled in warning, the sound low and filled with threat as it rumbled through his chest.

  “Try me.”

  Proving he wasn’t quite as stupid as he looked, the kid cursed under his breath, but quickly turned on his heels and stomped off toward the back of the smoky room. Once he’d disappeared into the shadows, Xander sidled up to the bar and slid onto the newly unoccupied seat.

  “Well, well, look what the fuckin’ cat dragged in.” Even as he spoke, the bartender slid a shot glass across the bar toward him, the contents splashing over the rim.

  Xander curved his lips, though it was more a baring of teeth than anything resembling a smile. “Ian.”

  Leaning forward on his stool, he rested his elbows on the bar and tilted his head to the side, considering his brother. Well, one of his brothers. Alpha Marcus Cole had so many damn offspring, Xander couldn’t keep track of them anymore. He and Ian, however, had grown up together, both raised by their sadistic father after their mother’s death.

  Xander wouldn’t wish that kind of hell on anyone.

  Despite being only a year older, Ian Cole had a hardness about him, a weariness that aged him far more than his thirty-four years. Beyond that, they had the same inky black hair, though Ian wore his longer, the ends brushing against the tops of his shoulders. Their eyes were the exact same color of sapphire-blue—just like their father’s—but the purple shadows under Ian’s lower lids made his stare more menacing.

  Xander almost pitied the wolf. Ian looked rode hard and put up wet, but the rural, west Texas town had a way of doing that to its residents. Well, those who managed to survive the pack anyway.

  His gaze still locked on Ian, he tossed back the shot of whiskey, careful to keep his expression completely neutral. It tasted exactly like the cheap swill it was, but once he’d downed it, he slid the empty glass back across the marred oak and gestured for another.

  “So, the prodigal son returns,” Ian mocked, ignoring Xander’s unspoken request. Instead, he leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms over his broad chest, stretching the fabric of his black, cotton shirt. “Why are you here, Xander?”

  “I didn’t realize I needed a reason to come home.”

  “This hasn’t been your home for a long time.” Bitterness bled into Ian’s tone, and a low growl rumbled through his chest. “You don’t belong here.”

  He was right on both counts. Broken Ridge wasn’t Xander’s home, not anymore, and he sure as hell didn’t belong there. If it wasn’t for the Council, he’d never come within a hundred miles of the town.

  Mostly, the Council left the Nightlings—wolves, vampires, shifters, and the like—to govern themselves. When provoked, however, when the actions of a few threatened the security of the whole, the Council was swift and brutal i
n their retribution.

  That was where Xander came in.

  As one of the Nightling Interspecies Tenet Enforcement Wardens—a group of elite soldiers employed by the Justice Council—it was his duty to protect the innocent and punish the wicked. Members of N.I.T.E were nameless. Faceless. They were shadows in the dark. Everyone in the Nightling world feared them, yet no one knew who they really were.

  And they were legion.

  So, when human females had started going missing from the stretch of highway that led through Broken Ridge, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Council. The most recent account had come in only days ago, pushing the total to six, and those were just the ones that had been reported.

  Xander’s instincts told him his old pack was involved in the disappearances, but he needed proof before the Council could act. Hence, how he’d ended up in his hometown just two nights before the full moon.

  “You need to leave,” Ian said when Xander didn’t respond to his first taunt.

  Sitting up straight, he mirrored his brother’s pose, folding his arms across his chest as he arched an eyebrow in challenge. “I don’t remember asking for your permission.”

  Ian snorted. “You always were an entitled prick. I guess that hasn’t changed.”

  “Careful,” Xander warned, lifting his right hand, his grin turning feral as his fingernails extended into long, lethal claws. “I’m not as patient as I used to be.”

  He had a job to do, and the faster he did it, the sooner he could get the hell out of Broken Ridge. Pretending to be the same cocky douchebag he’d been in his teens and early twenties was exhausting.

  The legs of the barstool squeaked over the warped floorboards when he stood, his gaze still pinned on his brother. Leaning over the bar, he grabbed a random bottle by the neck and poured himself another shot. Fuck, he hated whiskey. The stuff tasted like battery acid, and it felt about as smooth going down. Back when he’d been young and reckless, he hadn’t thought twice about knocking back a bottle of anything available.