The Chosen One Universe Volume Two: An MM Paranormal Fantasy Shifters Series Read online

  Chosen One Universe - Volume Two

  Macy Blake

  Copyright of the collection © 2020 by Macy Blake

  All rights reserved.

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  Formatted by Leslie Copeland, LesCourt Author Services

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Hell On Earth

  Hellhound Champions, book 1

  Double or Nothing

  A Novella in the Chosen One Universe

  Next to Nothing

  The Chosen One: Book 3

  Hell to Pay

  Hellhound Champions, book 2

  About the Author

  Also by Macy Blake

  Hell On Earth

  Hellhound Champions, book 1

  Copyright © 2018 by Macy Blake

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  Cover and symbols designed by A.J. Corza, www.seeingstatic.com

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For Amy, Charlie, Mary, Bruce, and Xara.

  Thank you for bringing me out of the darkness and into the light.

  Meshaq

  With a low grumble, Meshaq surveyed the customers in his bar. Even for a Friday night, it was unexpectedly busy in Hair of the Dog. He pulled the tap and filled yet another mug with beer before shoving it onto his waitress’s tray. Shelly huffed in annoyance at him when some sloshed over the edge and splashed onto her formerly beer-free surface.

  “It’s your own fault, Shaq,” Shelly grumbled as she moved the mugs onto the bar and wiped up the mess. “You gave all three of them the weekend off. You had to know this would happen.”

  Meshaq glared at her and filled another glass. “I wasn’t expecting Cody to show up looking like death warmed over. He was supposed to be back here slinging booze, and I’d just have to help out if it was overly busy.”

  “Aww, poor bossman. Having to work too hard? Are your poor ickle feet tired?”

  He scowled at her again. “I hate talking to so many people. You know it makes me cranky, woman.”

  She grinned and lifted her now clean and refilled tray. “I know. You’ll be fine. Do me a favor? Keep an eye on table seven.”

  Meshaq’s gaze immediately shot over to the table in question. Four men sat around it. Multiple empties were scattered over the top. They were clearly out to get good and drunk. He searched the room for Izzy, the waitress working that section, and found her on the other side of the room. “Izzy okay? I can send Sol over.”

  “You know Izzy. She’s handling them for now. Just got a bad feeling.”

  He trusted her feelings implicitly. She may not have enhanced abilities, but her instincts were honed especially well for men who intended trouble. Turning to the back of the bar, he sought out Solomon’s gaze. His pack member sensed his attention and looked his way. Shaq gave a nod toward the table, received Sol’s answering nod of understanding, and then went back to mixing drinks.

  Most of his regulars were stereotypical to look at. They were a little older, tatted up, and wore black leather vests. They lined their Harleys up in front of the bar and loved that Hair of the Dog was a welcoming place for them. They could come in, shoot the shit, and reminisce about the good old days while the classic rock they preferred pumped through the bar’s stereo system. They may look like tough guys, and most of them actually were very tough, but they all knew and abided by his rules. The most important one being to never, ever mistreat his staff. Sometimes newcomers tried to cause trouble, but Shaq usually could tell in advance which ones they were. He tended to use his size and intimidating glare to his advantage, and they rarely misbehaved. Looking around the bar, he recognized the majority of the guys sitting around the battered wooden table. They’d had a few newbies show up recently, though, and since he was working behind the bar, he wouldn’t be able to keep as close an eye on them.

  Over the years, his bar had become a safe haven for people who needed a place to work without a lot of hassle. Once word had gotten around that he didn’t put up with any shit given to his staff, he’d ended up with a collection of loyal employees who never had to worry about being mistreated. Sol called them his orphans. He’d gotten punched right in the face when he’d said it, even though it was true. The problem was that Shaq’s pack was too small for his liking. The alpha in him craved a larger core group. Unfortunately, the goddess hadn’t allowed any of his kind to find their true mate in Shaq’s lifetime. They were a dying breed, and once the last of them were gone, the goddess would find a new set of protectors. Shaq gave his chest a brief rub, refusing to allow the darkness to overtake him. He’d built a family of his own and his pack had flourished, unlike so many of his brothers. He still performed duties for the goddess and hoped one day she would— no, he couldn’t do that. She knew the desires of his heart. He would continue to serve, without expecting anything in return.

  He’d filled a few more orders for the guys sitting at the bar and loaded up another tray for Izzy to deliver to the tables when the door opened and Shaq caught the scent of panic, fear, and pain all rolled up in one. He turned to the entrance, ready to spring into action, and found a young man standing there practically shaking his shoes off. The man’s gaze darted around the room and the sight of the leather wearing patrons clearly did nothing to ease his fears. He moved to the side, looking desperately around the room. But his scent, the one under all the fear, caught Shaq’s attention.

  Sweet and spicy.

  Delicious.

  Shaq’s beast woke and his eyes flared. He saw the bar through a fiery red haze for a moment before he got himself under control. He’d just taken another deep breath of the wonderful smell when he heard a slapping sound. He turned to see one of the idiots from table seven with his hand on Izzy’s ass. She looked terrified, a heavy tray of glasses balanced in one hand while the other grabbed at the offending man’s wrist. Shaq leapt over the bar in one smooth movement, his height and advanced strength an advantage. He had the fool by the neck and against the wall before Izzy had drawn her next breath.

  “No one touches my girls.” Shaq’s voice bottomed out, the deepened tone of a pissed-off alpha. The guy struggled against Shaq’s hold, gasping for air as he pulled against Shaq’s unmoving wrist. Sol appeared at his side, so Shaq released him into his bouncer’s waiting grip. He turned to Izzy, watched for the stress and fear to leave her face as Sol hauled the asshole to the door and threw him outside. Then Shaq moved to stand over the rest of the men at the table.

  “Her tip better make up for this.” He kept his voice low and commanding. No one denied an alpha’s order, at least if they knew what was good for them. The three remaining men reached for their wallets and began tossing bills on the table.

  Once he was satisfied that Izzy’s grocery bill would be covered from their table alone, Shaq went back to the bar. He glanced toward the man still standing there. His eyes were blown wide, locked on Shaq as he trembled. Shaq pointed at him, getting the man’s attention, then pointed to an empty spot at the end of the bar. He began moving slowly, following Shaq’s direction, so Shaq returned to his spot slinging drinks and wa
ited for him to settle. After setting an unopened bottle of water in front of him, Shaq leaned down so he wasn’t quite so tall. At six feet eight inches, he towered over everyone, but he had at least a foot on this guy, and he didn’t want to add to the fear he could still smell.

  “You need some help?” Shaq kept his voice quiet, slow and easy.

  “D-do you have a payphone? I r-ran out of gas.”

  Shaq reached beneath the bar and snagged his cell. He used his thumb print to unlock the damn thing— why he needed to he had no clue. Who would be stupid enough to try to take his phone?— then handed it over. “No pay phone, but you can use mine.”

  “Thank you.”

  Shaq nodded then returned to pouring drinks. He received a few nods of appreciation from his regulars, laughed off the offers to take the rest of table seven outside and teach them some manners. After checking on Izzy, who was huddled with Shelly in the corner, Shaq turned his attention back to the task at hand. He couldn’t stop from listening in though, his enhanced hearing focused on the man at the other end of the bar.

  “Hello?”

  “P-paige?”

  “Oh my god, Drew! Where are you?”

  “I’m— at some bar. I’m okay.”

  “You ran. Oh God, you ran, Drew.”

  “I know. It was stupid. And now I’m out of gas and out of money and—”

  “They’re gonna find you. Oh God.”

  Shaq tensed at the words, heard the man’s—Drew’s— heartbeat flutter in fear.

  “I had to get away, Paige. It was… going to get bad. Worse.”

  “What are you going to do? You left with nothing, Drew. I can’t help you. I would if I had it, but—”

  “I know. I wouldn’t ask you to help. You’ve got to take care of your kids. I just wanted you to know I was okay. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Please be careful.”

  “I will. I’m sorry if this will cause trouble for you. I—”

  “I can handle it. It’s not me they were after. You take care of yourself.”

  Drew ended the call and glanced up at Shaq, who went back to him and accepted his phone. Drew glanced up at him, his beautiful brown eyes stirring something deep within Meshaq’s soul, then back at the bar. Then his stomach growled and he rubbed his hand across it nervously.

  “Drink some water,” Shaq growled.

  He went to the monitor at the register and entered a couple of orders for some appetizers. They only offered typical bar fare, but the guy— Drew— was clearly hungry. He glanced over and saw Drew sipping at the water while he looked around the bar. He seemed to have calmed down a bit, although Shaq could still smell his underlying fear.

  AC/DC’s “Back in Black” began blaring through the speakers and half the guys in the bar began singing along. Shaq snorted out a laugh and washed up the dirty mugs Izzy had dropped off for him. By the time he’d filled orders for both Izzy and Shelly, the bell rang from the kitchen signaling that his order for Drew was ready. He carried the baskets of wings and potato skins over and placed them on the bar.

  “Eat.”

  Drew leaned back and shook his head. “I didn’t order—”

  “It’s on me.”

  “But—”

  Shaq lifted one of the wings and held it up to Drew’s lips. “Come on.”

  He put the tiniest push behind his words. Not enough that it could be considered force, but enough to help lower inhibitions. The guy needed to eat. Drew leaned in and took a bite of the chicken. Shaq practically purred. He set the wing back in the basket and licked the sauce off his fingers. Drew’s eyes followed each movement and his pupils dilated. So he was feeling it, too.

  “It’s good,” Drew managed after he swallowed.

  “Yeah. Go on. Eat before it gets cold.”

  Drew nodded and lifted one of the potatoes to his lips. Once he took a bite, Shaq nodded happily and returned his attention to his customers. Sol came back inside, a concerned frown on his normally serene face. He glanced around the room, sizing up the patrons, then took a less than subtle sniff of the air.

  “Sol.”

  Shaq barely muttered the word, but it carried enough of a command that Sol jerked to attention and made his way to the bar. Shaq glanced back at Drew and found him focused on eating. He watched for another second before he went to the opposite end of the bar where Sol was waiting.

  “I smell wolf. Not one we know.”

  Shaq breathed deep, catching the subtle scent as well.

  “Someone passing by?”

  Sol shook his head. “I got it more strongly from a car parked out there. And then there’s this.” He laid a small black contraption on the bar and looked at Shaq.

  “What’s that?”

  Sol sighed. “A tracking device. You really should keep up on technology, Meshaq. It’s not overly difficult.”

  “Hey,” Shaq protested, “I got one of those phones you said I needed, although I don’t know what was so bad about the other one. It still worked.”

  “It was a flip phone… you know what, never mind. Just know that I think the car belongs to the cutie at the end of the bar. If I’m right, and you know I am, then he’s got someone tracking him. And by the scent, I’m guessing wolves.”

  Shaq growled. “When will Teague and Achim be back?”

  “Within the hour.”

  “Good. Stay by the door until then.”

  “We shutting down early tonight?”

  Shaq glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after one in the morning, and he normally closed up at two.

  “No. Tell Teague and Achim to get here and be ready for trouble.”

  It wasn’t that all wolves were bad. Shaq even had a local pack that he considered family and another he worked with at times when he needed to follow up with other supernatural creatures. His duties were clear, but how he handled them were left up to him. So he didn’t have anything against wolves in particular, but some of them had attitudes that left a lot to be desired. When they realized what he was, they normally wanted to pick a fight, especially when their emotions were running hot.

  Shaq filled another round of drinks and made his way back down the bar to Drew. Both the baskets were empty and the man himself looked extremely tired. Shaq leaned close again. “You want something else?”

  Drew blinked up at him. “N-no. I’m good.”

  “Good. Tell me if you want something, okay? Just relax for a bit. You’re safe here.”

  Drew ran his hand across his chest then looked up at Shaq again. “Okay.”

  Shaq nodded and turned his attention back to the task at hand. He washed up another dozen glasses, cashed out one of the larger groups of regulars, and instructed Izzy to start shutting down her section. He flagged Shelly down and she carried over yet another tray of empties.

  “What’s up, bossman?”

  “Favor?”

  She nodded. “Of course. What do you need?”

  Shaq tilted his head toward Drew at the other end of the bar. “Check on him for me. Let him know I’m an okay guy. I think he needs some help.”

  “Another stray, huh?”

  “I think I’m a beacon for them or something.” Shaq smiled down at her and she pinched his arm.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re a giant, scary-looking teddy bear with a heart of gold. We get it.” She wandered around to a few tables before making her way to Drew. She was smart and kept it from looking like Shaq had sent her over. He couldn’t help but listen in, even as he kept his hands busy.

  “You okay, sugar?” Shelly asked.

  “Y-yeah.” Drew looked like he was about to fall asleep where he sat.

  “Hmm,” Shelly said. “Well, the first time I walked in here, I wasn’t. That was a few years ago now. Shaq helped me out. Made sure I had something to eat and a roof over my head. If you’re not okay and need some help, he’d be a good one to talk to, okay?”

  Drew glanced his way, but Shaq made sure to keep his hands busy mixing the dri
nk order he was making.

  “Okay,” Drew replied after a moment.

  “Talk to him, sweetie. I promise, he’s a good guy.”

  She went back to work.

  “Last call!” Shaq made sure his voice was loud enough to be heard over the music. He only got a few grumbled complaints but as it was only a few minutes early, no one really cared. He filled the last few orders quickly, then began getting ready to shut down for the night. Finally, Teague and Achim came through the door, only looking slightly worse for the wear.

  Teague slumped down at the bar with a low grumble. “Fucking Chupacabras. Blood sucking freaks.”

  Achim smirked and looked at Shaq. “He got blood all over his new coat.”

  “Everything handled?”

  “Yeah,” Achim replied. “Sent him back to hell where he belonged. The farmer lost another goat, but we left some coyote tracks to throw them off.”

  Teague raised his head and subtly sniffed the air before he looked around. “Wolf?”

  Shaq glanced down at Drew then back at Teague. “Sol says they’re probably tracking him.” He tilted his head toward Drew. “I’m going to make sure he’s okay.”

  Achim groaned. “Man, I hate tangling with wolves.”

  “Right there with you brother,” Teague said. “One asshole breaks the rules and the whole damn pack thinks they have to go down fighting.”

  “We’d go down fighting for our pack,” Achim said.

  “We’re not assholes.”

  Shaq grinned at their bickering. The two were often mistaken for brothers and it was no wonder. They complemented each other perfectly and, as a team, they were particularly fierce. “We’re going to get the bar closed up. You two up for keeping an eye on the place overnight?”