Coraline Patten enjoys nothing more than facing new challenges, but when she’s asked to evaluate Moonriver’s ruling faction, she worries she’s bitten off more than she can chew.
Allasandro Stephans has reigned since she’d been a child, unwavering in his dedication to Moonriver. His heir, Calden, has supported him every step of the way. Together, the shapeshifting widower and his son appear to be the perfect men for the job of preserving and protecting their home.
When Moonriver’s heir asks her to free his father from the burden of leadership, Coraline is determined to do what is best for her people, even if it costs her the love of her life.
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From Chapter One…
I should have called in sick. Had I pretended to suffer from some ailment, my name wouldn’t have been on the list of potential sacrificial lambs doomed to work for the Hunters of Moonriver for the next week, possibly for longer.
I enjoyed change, and I preferred it on a daily basis.
The Hunters of Moonriver would give me change for a few days, but after a week, the monotony would do me in. All factions were alike. Once someone settled into their role, that was it. They stared down an endless tunnel of the same old routine, climbing the social ladder for higher pay, slight modifications to their daily duties, and more responsibilities.
After a month of that, I would surely go mad.
As one of Moonriver’s unaffiliated, I flitted from faction to faction, filling in for those who couldn’t work for whatever reason. I preferred when I covered for one of the craft factions, but after a week of doing the same job over and over, I craved new waters, new experiences, and new people.
I loved the thrill of discovery, and none of the factions offered me the variety I needed to be satisfied with my lot in life. As a result, I remained one of the oldest unaffiliated in the city-state, working at a temp firm.
My boss understood how I ticked and made certain I tested new waters often.
Had I done something to irritate my boss? A job with a minimum duration of a week counted as my personal nightmare, although I would do the work with a smile if it was asked of me.
“I knew I should have selected a faction last quarter.” Of my co-workers, Sila tended to be the first to voice a complaint but the last to do anything about her situation. Had anyone else tried that garbage with me, I would have moved on, but Sila somehow managed to make me smile, even during dire situations. While she complained and rarely acted, if she could help someone else, she would.
My friend was a queen of contradictions.
She cleared her throat to make certain she held my attention. As she rarely put up such a fuss, I did as she wanted and met her gaze.
“I told you we should have made our selections last quarter, Coraline,” Sila whined.
Any other day, I would have told her to mind her own business or muttered about her attitude. Today, I wanted to join her and abandon my professionalism to indulge in a childish temper tantrum over the situation. If I had picked a faction last quarter, I would have avoided the entire problem, but I doubted I would have been happy with my choice. Still, she made a good point. “You might be right. How many qualified for the job?” With a little luck, all six hundred or so of the firm’s employees were eligible for selection, significantly limiting my chance of being the unlucky one.
The last thing I needed was a long-term contract with any faction, let alone the undisputed rulers of Moonriver.
“Twenty,” Sila informed me in a solemn tone. “Of which we are two of the twenty. I peeked at the list. More accurately, the boss asked me to warn you that you are on the list, and he will not believe any excuse you might concoct to dodge this. As such, you can’t avoid your dance with doom. I fear it’s probable you’re the unlucky soul stuck with the Hunters contract. Why else would he make me make you show up?”
Until it was confirmed I was stuck with the contract, I would hope someone else would win the assignment. As there were more than twenty people in the room, I assumed our boss had another reason for calling everyone together. Usually, he either dropped the contracts off at our desks or sent us an email telling us we had feet and should use them.
I longed to voice a curse, but professionalism demanded I remain silent.
“There’s a rumor that the odds aren’t equal. By request.”
I relaxed, as my general skill set meant I spent most of my time working with craft or artisan factions in a secretarial or accounting role. “The boss asked you to toy with me, didn’t he?”
“Maybe a little. He didn’t tell me who was picked, just that somebody has already been assigned the contract. He mandated that you must deal with the stress just like everyone else. But you’re no Hunter, and everybody knows it. But maybe the boss wants to add a little extra versatility to your resume? As far as I know, it’s only for a week or two.”
The wolf-dominated Hunters needed athletic, strong people with a fondness for difficult challenges. I preferred difficult mental challenges, especially when numbers were involved. While anyone could discover their animal and begin shifting at any age, those who wanted to shift actively pursued their magic—or they partnered with a shapeshifter.
I had opted against putting in the effort; I struggled enough getting through life without the additional complications associated with shapeshifting. I also dodged dating shapeshifters, as most who married a shifter developed the magic through frequent exposure.
As such, I did my best to avoid anyone associated with the Hunters of Moonriver, who ran the city and nearby towns with iron paws, common sense, and tolerable ethics.
“Well, that should eliminate me, then,” I said, allowing myself a relieved sigh. “Me, working with the Hunters? You said it yourself. I’m no Hunter.”
Fur would fly, and not in a good way.
The last thing I needed in my life was to develop magic, especially of the shapeshifting variety.
Sila snickered. “With that comment, you just guaranteed your selection. That is what normal people call testing their luck. Have you worked for the Hunters before?”
“No.” With Sila, short and to the point worked the best. If I gave her a single opening, she would talk me to death and force me to regret my decision to be her friend.
Sila meant well, however, even when she drove me mad.
My friend rubbed her hands together. “They’re pretty nice to work for. While most of them are predatory shifters, they’re respectful of time and energy. It helps they can smell fatigue and frustration. They understand a happy worker is a better worker. They stop problems before they become problems as a general rule. The male temps get the short straw, as they get into pissing contests with the Hunters. Us women? We already know how to avoid the pissing contests. We win when we don’t play the game.”
When Sila began spouting sexist nonsense, it often sourced from an unpleasant evening with her latest suitor. “Did you have a bad date last night?”
“It was horrible. Who knew a Legacy researcher could be so clueless? I educated him, but there won’t be a second date. He was so dry I thought about asking him to do my laundry.”
The few times I’d dated a Legacy member, I’d emerged better educated but lacking in the basic relationship department. Members of Legacy lived for the pursuit of old knowledge. Intellectual company appealed to me, but I also longed for the other facets of a good relationship, including physical affection, sweet nothings, and someone I could be around in safety and comfort.
Still, Legacy members could be taught, and I’d met more than a few who were kind to a fault but oblivious. “Maybe you should give him a second try, Sila. You bothered to educate him. Why not benefit from your tutoring? Is he nice?”
“He is disturbingly nice,” she complained.
Well, some problems had simple solutions. “Teach him to get a little rough with you, then.”
“I might. He texted me this morning. I replied that I was getting my work assignment. You think I should try him again?”
“He’s nice and can be taught, Sila. Find out if he cooks and cleans. If so, he might be the perfect man.”
“You make a good point.” Sila sighed, dug out her phone, and tapped at the screen. Once finished, she said, “There. I told him that, assignment allowing, I’m free most nights this week if he’d like to get together. This might be for the best. I was about to hit up someone from Moonward.”
I winced. Of Moonriver’s factions, Moonward attracted ambitious men and women with an interest in magic. Witches made up most of the membership, but they accepted all types. “Dangerous dates are not wise, Sila.”
“I’m looking for love. That is the definition of dangerous.”
No kidding. Before I could reply, our manager rang his little silver bell so he could deliver the news—and reveal who would be assisting the Hunters. “I’ll keep this as short as possible, as we have a busy day. I already drew the name for the Hunters contract while you gossips talked up a storm.”
When Almon Friarin went the route of serious efficiency, we had a significantly higher than normal number of jobs on our plate.
“Today is going to be fun,” Sila predicted.
I huffed but refrained from cursing. “Sure. It’s going to be about as fun as a lobotomy.”
Before I could make further commentary, our boss said, “Line up for your assignment. You’ll just have to accept I won’t be turning our job into a circus today. Maybe tomorrow. The Hunters of Moonriver have asked for discretion.”
“Well, this sucks,” Sila muttered. “He lured us all here so nobody would skip out on a crazy day.”
“You’re probably right.” My fellow co-workers queued up to receive their assignments, and I joined the line, dragging Sila with me. “Be grateful it’s not a parade. Or worse, a positive reinforcement day.”
“Good point. There is only so much public praise I can handle a year. A ten-minute lecture on how good I am at following basic instructions might break me today.” Sila made a show of shuddering. “Last week, one of the clients sent him a photo of my work along with praise. I almost perished.”
I needed to derail my friend before she delved deeper into the dark waters of self-inflicted stress. “Did you get a raise?”
“I received an extra ten cents an hour for accomplishing perfection.”
Well, that had backfired in a painful fashion. “I’ve never gotten a raise for perfection,” I informed her.
“I asked for it. Did you?”
The next time I got pulled into our boss’s office, I would make a point of asking. “Will the ten cents an hour actually help your budget?”
One of the distinct disadvantages of remaining unaffiliated was our compensation; the factions made a point of paying their members competitive rates for their work. We lacked a faction to go to bat for us. Migrant workers made up the majority of the unaffiliated, who had limited power to bring change to how we were paid. As a rare holdout, I accepted lower pay and less say in the governing of Moonriver in exchange for flexibility and freedom.
“Every penny counts except when it doesn’t.” Sila shrugged. “Not really, but I will hoard those extra pennies. Why didn’t you put the Hunters on your approval list?”
“What would I even do for them? I do most of my hunting at the grocery store. I have no desire to howl at the moon. The Hunters only send their best through the portals—and I’m not interested in any of the other expeditions to Earth. If you’re lucky, you’ll survive the trip. If you survive, you’re stuck there for ten years.” In truth, I hunted rabbits for free food, requested a hunting license every time enrollment opened, and I had learned to skin my rabbits to make extra cash on the side. I’d gotten good enough I sold the best fur to the artisan factions and spent my earnings on books.
I made a point of making certain nobody outside of my family and the artisan buyers learned about my rabbit hunting.
“That somewhat limits what you can do with the Hunters. As I don’t date Hunters, nor will I select their faction, I try to avoid them. I’ve had one contract with them. They’re not bad to work for, but they’re definitely intense. I’ve seen the faction leader and his son, though. Watch out for your panties. They’re hot. I put in some serious thought about selecting the Hunters after seeing that heir. Let me tell you something, Coraline. Calden Stephans is delicious. I’d melt chocolate on him and eat it off without hesitation. The best part? He doesn’t even really have abs. He could have abs if he flexed those muscles a bit more, but he’s a whole lot of smooth man. I got to see him with his shirt off. There’s not a scrap of chest hair to be seen, and you know how I feel about chest hair.”
Yes, I had unfortunate knowledge of how much she hated picking out chest hair from between her teeth. As Sila lived and breathed for her next bedroom conquest, I opted to ignore her opinion about Moonriver’s most influential men, especially Calden, the reigning eligible bachelor of Moonriver. “I’ll make sure my panties remain intact and on.”
“You are no fun.”
Thanks to our boss’s foresight plus his planning and preparation skills, he churned through the line, handing out envelopes with the contracts and assignment details. Mine ranked in on the heftier side, a common problem with Legacy assignments, although the various artisan factions also had lengthy contracts.
Sila also received one of the thicker envelopes, and hers had the crescent moon and yew symbol of the Moonward faction on it.
“Good luck with that.”
“They’re really not that bad. It’s usually playing courier or taking notes with them. They even give magic lessons on slow days. Try it again some time. I bet you’d be a great witch.”
I had learned a trick or two the last time I’d worked for Moonward, but I wouldn’t tell Sila that. “Pass. Break a leg.”
“You, too—and text me if you get something juicy, like a boyfriend.”
“Should I mystically acquire a boyfriend, I will let you know.”
Laughing, my friend headed into the maze of smaller offices and cubicles, leaving me to venture the other way. Ten years of working for the temp firm meant I had one of the better offices, which was located near the doors leading to freedom.
I tossed the packet onto my desk and began my morning routine, which consisted of following up with prior contracts. Nobody had contacted me. That worried me, much like the calm before the storm tended to put me on edge. Before I could become unnerved, I picked up my envelope and pulled out the contract.
According to the cover page, I held the dubious honor of being the lamb sacrificed to the Hunters of Moonriver. The cover page indicated the faction leader required a skilled secretary to handle a sensitive matter.
Relief flooded me. I could handle working as a secretary, even for the ruler of the city. Dealing with the same contract for longer than a week would test me, but I would endure.
How bad could it be?
Groaning, I rested my head on my desk. Within a few hours, I’d find out.