Fated By Starlight by Krista Street

 

Chapter 1

~ AVERY ~

“Three months. Three months. You can do anything for three months,” I whispered.

The brakes squeaked on my black Explorer when I rolled up to the portal leading to the SF’s headquarters. A narrow road stretched in front of me. Trees towered alongside it like giant sentries, swaying gently in the summer breeze. Forest filled this part of Idaho, but it was the glimmering red line wavering across my hood that truly captured my attention.

Humans couldn’t see the SF’s magical barrier or scanning devices. Lucky for me, I was one step more magical than humans.

Well . . . barely . . .

I took a deep breath. Three months. You have to do this for three months or you’ll never become a supernatural ambassador.

I rolled down my window when a glowing scanner materialized on the other side of it and placed my hand on the pad. Magic enveloped my skin, warming my palm.

“Please state your reasons for requesting access to the Supernatural Forces,” a robotic voice said. There wasn’t a speaker, so it was as though the voice came from an invisible entity.

“Avery Meyers, reporting for duty.”

The magic heated further, then released my palm. “Welcome, Avery Meyers. Please proceed.”

Another shimmer of magic erupted, and an opaque garage-door-style opening materialized in front of my car, a billowing fog pouring out. I drove forward, and my Explorer disappeared into the mist.

I swallowed a yelp when a free-falling sensation made my stomach flip, but the portal transfer was over before I knew it. Thankfully, when I emerged on the other side, my swallowed squeal meant nobody had noticed my reaction.

Around me the SF garage loomed. The ceiling soared to at least fifty feet, large enough to comfortably house a 737. Parked cars filled the perimeter of the massive enclosure, and in the center several aircraft had technicians climbing over them like ants surrounding an ant hill. One of the technicians interrupted my ogling and flagged me to an open parking spot.

I snapped my jaw shut and carefully parked within the lines.

The technician opened the door for me, a grin stretching across his face. “Avery Meyers, welcome to the Supernatural Forces.”

“Thank you. It’s good to be here.” I grabbed my bag and threaded my fingers through my long, dark hair, working out the tangles from the drive. I smiled for good measure, too, hoping it hid the butterflies flapping in my stomach.

Banging sounds reverberated throughout the garage as technicians worked, and scents of spicy magic and gasoline accompanied the busy workplace.

“You can wait with the other new recruits until your commander arrives.” The technician waved toward two men and a woman standing near the corner. One of the guys kept shifting his weight, and the woman’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

I hefted my bag over my shoulder and proceeded to the group. They all watched me, and despite vowing to keep my chin up, a moment of trepidation filled me. After all, the other new recruits were all future SF members—they weren’t at the SF temporarily like I was.

“You’re a new recruit too?” one of the guys asked when I reached them. He was of medium height, which meant he wasn’t a werewolf. He also had a caramel-colored complexion hinting at a Latino background. And since his complexion hadn’t been paled by a transformation, he also wasn’t a vampire. That meant he was either a glamoured fairy, a sorcerer, a half-demon, or a mixed-blood like me.

I nodded. “Yep, I’m Avery Meyers, although I’m only here for three months, then I start my new ambassador job in Geneva.”

“Ooh, you’re going to be an ambassador?” the woman said, cocking her head. She had purple hair and pointy ears—an unglamoured fairy.

Neither gave off overly strong power surges, so my death grip on my bag eased. Maybe I wouldn’t be the only magically inferior after all. “Yeah, I graduated from college last week, so after training here is done I’ll be off. What about you guys?”

The medium-height guy replied, “I’ll be joining the Magical Forensics squad here at the SF. I’ll be permanent staff. Name’s Bo Sanchez—sorcerer.”

Ah, so that’s what he is.

The purple-haired fairy twirled one of her locks around a finger. “And I am Eliza River. I shall be permanent staff as well, except I shall be a Processing Bay technician.”

“And you?” I asked the taller guy. He hadn’t said anything yet since he was too busy casting anxious glances toward the door behind us.

“Chris Larson. I’m the newest recruit to Squad Six.” A buzz of energy surrounded Chris. Now that I stood closer to him, I felt its strength.

I pressed my lips into a smile. “So you’ll be in the field?”

“Yep. I’ve been waiting for this day for years.”

In other words, Chris was a real supernatural. Given the hum of dominant werewolf energy flowing under his skin, I wasn’t surprised. He had to be from one of the high-ranking pureblood families, which explained why he’d been accepted into a numbered SF squad.

A numbered squad was something I would never be worthy of since the Supernatural Forces only accepted the strongest supernaturals into that fold, but I did feel thankful for the SF and was grateful supernaturals like Chris existed.

If it weren’t for supernaturals like him, the community would no doubt erupt into lawlessness and chaos. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened in hundreds of years, not since the organization had first been created.

Nowadays, the SF was like the armed forces and law enforcement combined. The SF regularly dealt with all the dangerous crap most of us never knew existed, and they were the reason relative peace existed among our kind.

A second rush of magic blew behind me as another vehicle entered the SF garage. I averted my attention from my squad mates to see who the newest arrival was.

A guy sat behind the wheel of a sleek white Porsche. It practically reeked of money. He pulled forward without hesitation as a technician directed him to a parking spot.

Before I could scrutinize him further, a single loud bang came from the corner on the far side of the garage, and a group of six men and women strode out. They all wore matching combat suits with weapons strapped to their backs, chests, and legs. None of them gave us a passing glance before they hopped into an infinity craft which the technicians had just finished servicing.

The infinity craft roared to life, then it lifted from the ground, levitating before it shimmered as an invisibility cloaking spell washed over it. I blinked, and the craft had disappeared, but the spell didn’t stop the heat from the craft’s engine or the rumble when it shot skyward.

Then . . . it was gone.

My eyes popped. Holy shit. That was a squad that just took off for a mission.

My heart beat faster when it hit me that I was here, really here at the Supernatural Forces headquarters.

Once the magical display of the departing craft was over, Bo muttered, “Wicked.”

Eliza merely twirled her purple hair more while Chris continued to watch the portal where the squad had flown out, an envious expression on his face.

“You must be the new recruits?” The man who’d driven the Porsche swaggered toward us.

His pale face split into a smile. Sharp fangs glistened behind his lips. Why his fangs weren’t retracted was a mystery, but maybe his maker hadn’t taught him that keeping his fangs out was a sign of aggression.

When his gaze swept to me, he didn’t hide his appraisal. “Hello, gorgeous. And who might you be?”

Unperturbed by the vampire’s blatant sexual interest—after all, vamps were kind of known for that—I replied, “I’m Avery, and this is Bo, Eliza, and Chris. And you are?”

“Zaden Lane.”

Bo and Eliza shook his hand, but Chris merely cast Zaden a curious stare. “You must be a new vamp, huh?”

If Chris was right, that would explain the fang spectacle.

Zaden’s lips thinned. “What gave it away?”

Chris crossed his arms. “For one, your fangs are out. And two, there aren’t many vamps working for the SF. Most of the old ones find the modern ways and rules too boring for their tastes, but the new ones . . .”

Zaden quirked an eyebrow but didn’t respond, although he did retract his fangs into his gums.

“Who’s your maker?” Chris asked, arms still crossed.

“That’s a rather personal question, don’t you think?” Zaden replied.

“Only if you make it personal.”

Zaden’s smile broadened, and his fangs lengthened again. “Shall we make it personal?”

Chris snorted. “Is that supposed to intimidate me?”

Bo, Eliza, and I shared a side-eye. I rolled my eyes at Eliza and whispered, “Too much testosterone?”

She giggled quietly.

A wave of dominant werewolf magic shot from Chris, directed entirely at Zaden, but I still got a hint of it. My easy smile vanished.

Whoa. Chris’s power made my shoulders fold inward and forced me to submit my neck even though I tried to fight it. I gritted my teeth.

Chris was obviously young if he hadn’t learned that werewolves shouldn’t assert their dominance every time they got into a verbal dispute. Either that or he had a personal vendetta against vamps.

Clicking footsteps sounded behind us, then a woman called, “Is this where the new recruits wait?”

Chris sucked his magic back inside him, and the heavy feeling in the air dispersed. I glowered at him, but his attention was already focused on the latest arrival.

A woman sauntered our way. She was probably around my age and had wavy auburn hair and chiseled cheekbones. Given that she was damn near six feet tall and was built of sculpted muscle, I strongly suspected that she was a female werewolf.

When she said to Chris—“Didn’t your mother teach you better manners? My mom would have killed my brother for using his dominance like that.”—I knew for certain that she was a wolf.

She smiled and winked at me.

“Which pack are you from?” Chris asked her.

“Alberta. You?” she replied.

“Idaho.”

“Ah,” Zaden interjected. “A homeboy. Is this your first time leaving the nest? Or maybe I should say the den?”

A low growl rumbled from Chris, and he stepped forward.

I immediately lunged between them and placed my hands on each man’s chest. Power vibrated through my palms as their magic registered in my internal radar. Despite Zaden being a new vamp, he wasn’t a weakling. “Okay, fellas. Let’s try and play nice, hmm? We have three months together. Might as well try to get along.”

Eliza laughed, the sound as sweet and high as tinkling bells. “Already the ambassador, I see.” She grinned at me, and a lock of purple hair fell over her forehead.

I lowered my hands since both Zaden and Chris had stepped back.

“I grew up with two ambassadors,” I told Eliza. “I suppose you could say I’ve been in training since I was born.”

The tall female werewolf eyed me curiously. “And who might you be?”

“Avery Meyers. My parents are Bryce and Danielle Meyers, both ambassadors. And you are?”

“Charlotte Morris.”

I nodded knowingly. The Morris line was a well-known family in the pack-run town of Granite Springs, Alberta. They were descendants from the Originals, not like my half-werewolf mother or myself.

“What job are you going through basic training for?” Chris asked Charlotte.

She tossed her thick auburn hair over a shoulder and planted a hand on her hip. “Newest recruit for Squad Three. What about you?”

Chris’s grin stretched across his face. “I’ll be in Squad Six.”

Charlotte inclined her head but didn’t seem as impressed with Chris as he was with her. “And the rest of you?” she asked us.

One by one, everyone recounted which position they were here for.

When she got to me, I shrugged. “None. As you might have guessed I’m only here for the three months of training required by the Supernatural Ambassador Institute. I won’t be SF staff.”

Charlotte arched an eyebrow. “So you’ve already been accepted into the Institute, obviously, if you’re here.”

“That’s right.”

I expected to see a hint of derision flash across her face now that she knew my full history. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time I’d experienced it since everyone knew most ambassadors were either mixed-blood or on the weaker side of their magical species. It was what made ambassadors so good at their jobs since we had to rely on our communication skills to get us through situations as our magic was usually modest at best.

But instead of scorn, Charlotte nudged me. “We should bunk together. It wouldn’t hurt to have a friend in the Institute, and I’d love to hear about the places you visited growing up.”

“Sure, although I don’t know if we get to pick where we live, and Eliza—” I glanced toward the fairy who watched us avidly. “She’ll probably want to crash where we do since we’re all women, right?”

Eliza grinned, revealing rows of pointy teeth. “I would most love to.”

A further rush of magic billowed into my back as another car entered the garage. Before I could talk more with Charlotte or Eliza, a seventh recruit joined us.

He was almost as tall as Chris but not as broad. Little blue sparks emitted from his fingertips, as if he was unaware of it, but those blue sparks gave away his species—sorcerer. And considering his swell of magic that flowed over me, I knew he was full-blooded.

His magic didn’t abate either, like it usually did after I detected a supernatural’s strength. It clung to him, like a hint of cologne when a man stood near.

Jeepers creepers, he was powerful.

“Hey guys, you’re all new recruits too? I’m Nick Baker.” He grinned, his demeanor friendly, but before I could ask what his position would be, the door inched open behind Chris.

A wave of dominant werewolf energy registered in my senses from whoever had cracked it open. I shivered, and goosebumps broke out across my skin.

Shit. If I thought Nick, the newest sorcerer packed some heat, that was nothing compared to what had just come from behind me. And strangely enough, something about the newcomer’s power felt . . . familiar . . . but before I could place it, a man stepped over the threshold.

My jaw dropped.

I blinked, but he still stood there. No way. No freakin’ way.

Wyatt Jamison stood in the doorway.

The Wyatt Jamison.

Holy shit.

He looked exactly as I remembered him—four inches over six feet, brown hair and moss-green eyes, a square jaw, and a body sculpted from chiseled muscle and smooth flesh.

As the third son of the British Columbia Alpha, Wyatt Jamison was a pure-blooded werewolf, and like he had eight years ago, he still oozed power, but unlike when I’d known him as a teenager, his power now dominated the room.

He took a step forward, surveying all of us. Chris stood ramrod straight, his eager smile returning. Everyone else shuffled their feet nervously.

I did my best to calm my breathing, but it grew shallow.

When Wyatt’s appraisal passed over my face, he didn’t hesitate. Not even a hint of recognition crossed his features.

I let out my breath, and my shoulders drooped, but seriously, what did I expect? I wasn’t exactly the memorable type.

After sizing us up, Wyatt placed his hands behind his back. “New recruits, I’m Major Wyatt Jamison, your new squad commander.”

Despite trying to stop it, a shiver danced down my spine. His voice was so deep, just like I remembered it.

“You may follow me,” he said.

With that, Wyatt did a one-eighty and walked back through the doorway into the SF.

Charlotte leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Damn, he’s a hunk.”

“Oh?” I picked up my bag. “I didn’t notice.”

She snorted. “Please, girl. You’re as white as a ghost. Anyone with eyes can see you noticed.”

Before I could reply, she gave me a sly grin and followed Wyatt into the Supernatural Forces headquarters.