Untouchable (Wolf Kings of Twilight Book 1), page 1
Contents
Books by S.J. West
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Next from S.J. West
About the Author
COPYRIGHTS
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
© 2021 S.J. West. All rights reserved.
Proof Reader: Janelle Leonard.
Cover Design: Coversbyjuan.com
Interior Design & Formatting: Stephany Wallace @ S.W. Creative Publishing co, all rights reserved.
Published by Watchers Publishing Dec 26th, 2021.
www.Sjwest.com
BOOKS IN THE WATCHER SERIES
The Watchers Trilogy
Cursed
Blessed
Forgiven
The Watcher Chronicles
Broken
Kindred
Oblivion
Ascension
Caylin’s Story
Timeless
Devoted
Aiden’s Story
The Alternate Earth Series
Cataclysm
Uprising
Judgment
The Redemption Series
Malcolm
Anna
Lucifer
Redemption
The Dominion Series
Awakening
Reckoning
Enduring
The Everlasting Fire Series
War Angel
Between Worlds
Shattered Souls
Lucifer and Amalie's Story
Surrendering the Dark
Descending into the Abyss
Guardians of the Void
Restoration
Atonement
Exodus
War Angel Academy
Harbinger
Nemesis
Champion
OTHER BOOKS BY S.J. WEST
The Harvester of Light Trilogy
Harvester
Hope
Dawn
The Vankara Saga
Vankara
Dragon Alliance
War of Atonement
Vampire Conclave Series
Moonshade
Sentinel
Conclave
Requiem
Circle of the Rose Chronicles
Cin D’Rella and the Water of Life
Cin D’Rella and the Golden Apple
Cin D’Rella and the Lonely Tower.
Cin d'Rella and the Messengers of Death.
Pandora’s Legacy
Pandora’s Gift
Wolf Kings of Twilight
Untouchable
MULTI-AUTHOR ANTHOLOGIES
The Monster Ball Year 3:
A Paranormal Romance Anthology
Second Chances
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to express my gratitude to the many people who were with me throughout this creative process; to all those who provided support, talked things over, read, wrote, offered comments, allowed me to quote their remarks and assisted in the editing, proofreading and design.
I would like to thank Misti Monen, Andie Ryder, Nicoll Edwards, Erica Croyle, Barb Todaro, Lisa Fejeran, my beta readers, for helping me in the process with invaluable feedback.
Thanks to Janelle Leonard, my editor for helping me find typos, correct commas and tweak the little details that have help this book become my perfect vision.
Thank you to Stephany Wallace for creating the beautiful Interior Design for my books and formatting them.
Last but not least, I want to thank my family, who supported and encouraged me in this journey.
I apologize to those who have been with me over the course of the years and whose names I have failed to mention.
Storms rarely enter the world with a whimper. From birth, they are wild and ravaging. Their wind lashes out at all and their lightning strikes with no rhyme or reason. Their mother, the sky, sits back and watches her child’s tantrum because even she knows a storm cannot be contained. Its life is short and turbulent yet necessary in order for things on the earthly plane to grow and flourish.
As an old woman crossed the street, lightning flashed, revealing the precious cargo she had cradled to her breasts underneath her tattered cloak. The babe remained eerily silent as the woman scurried down a dark alleyway. She rapped her knuckles against a wooden door at the rear of a local tavern and patiently waited for an answer.
A man, burly and bearded, yanked the door open. He peered at the woman with clear suspicion as he wiped his hands on the apron tied around his thick waist. The smell of alcohol wafted from the interior and the sounds of late-night revelry could be heard. The citizens of Dawn were enjoying the last few hours of their human time before the rising sun transformed them into wolves.
“What the hell are you doing out here on a night like this, Mabel?” the tavern owner asked gruffly.
“It’s time for you to pay back the life debt you owe me, Boris.”
Mabel’s voice was weak. Even in the dim light, Boris could tell his old friend was close to death. Her skin was pale and her eyes bloodshot. If she lived to see the next sunrise, he would say she’s lucky.
Resigned to his fate, Boris asked the only question he could.
“What is it that you want from me?”
Mabel stepped forward and parted her cloak to reveal the child cradled in her arms.
“I need you to take care of her.”
Boris peered at the baby with open disdain.
“For how long?” he grumbled.
“Until she’s old enough to take care of herself.”
“Are you insane?” Boris yelled, his voice boomed as loud as the thunder outside. “I can’t raise a child! I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“You have no choice.” Mable thrust the babe into Boris’s arms. “The moment I saved your life, it was mine to do with what I wished. This is the way I have chosen for you to live your life, and you cannot refuse me.”
Boris clumsily held the baby against his chest. “There has to be some woman who can take care of her. It’s sure folly to leave a baby with me!”
“She needs you.” Mabel turned away as a fit of coughing overtook her. Once she regained her breath, she looked back at Boris. “Take care of her. She may hold the key to our salvation.”
With those words, Mabel turned her back to Boris and stepped into the storm’s fury.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Boris yelled after her to no avail. Mabel had already turned the corner, leaving him with the unexpected responsibility of fatherhood.
Boris looked down at the girl he held and shook his head.
“Mark my words, little one. This will not end well for either of us.”
Despite his prophecy of doom, the baby smiled, making the surly tavern owner snort in amusement.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Boris reached for the door and slowly began to close it, beginning a story that would forever change their world.
Chapter One
Words are one of mankind’s cruelest weapons. They can cut deeper than any knife, drive a sane person to the brink of insanity, and even kill if applied at just the right time in someone’s life. They can make a powerful person feel worthless and a weak person feel treasured. Words rule the world even when spoken in a whisper. People have used this seemingly innocuous weapon against me all my life, forcing me to develop a thick skin against their derision and surround my heart with a shield born from fire. The people of my world detest me for what I am, but the joke’s on them. After twenty-one years of their ridicule, I no longer care what they think of me. There’s only one person who can hurt me with his words, and I know he would never use his against me.
“Ivy, are you listening to me?”
I slip my dagger into the belted leather sheath around my exposed thigh.
“Why do you always take that thing with you?” Boris asks, watching me from the wingback chair by the window in my bedroom. “Isn’t it a bit pointless?”
When I stand up straight to examine my appearance in the full-length mirror, the split in my red chiffon skirt disappears, hiding the weapon from sight. I stare at my reflection. Dresses really aren’t my thing, but tonight is a special occasion. The ball at the palace will give me the one thing I’ve been denied, access into King Simon’s inner sanctum.
I’ve had to hide my trademark red hair underneath a blonde wig to help conceal my identity from those in attendance. Unfortunately, everyone in Dawn knows me as the redheaded outcast. I’m the worthless human they love to ridicule because I can’t transform into a wolf at sunrise. In their eyes, I’m forced to live a half-life because I’m not a part of their pack.
Screw them. I’m perfectly fine with the fact that I don’t change into some crotch sniffing mongrel when the sun comes up. Who the hell wants to be forced to crouch down on all fours and fight off an infestation of fleas? Not me.
“Ivy . . .”
I peer at Boris’s reflection in the mirror. The old man has aged well over the years. His once brown hair has turned gray, but his portly belly has remained the same. Anytime he laughs, it jiggles like jelly. From the tales he’s told me, he once owned a tavern in town, but when he took me in after my grandmother died, he decided raising a child in such a place wasn’t a good idea.
He sold the tavern and opened an antique shop. Truth be told, the shop is really a front for his real business. Boris trades priceless artifacts for gold coins, and tonight, we’re after one of the most precious pieces of jewelry in Dawn, the Queen’s Circlet. It’s said to hold mysterious magical properties, but on this evening, that isn’t why it’s so valuable.
Dawn has no queen at the moment. We did. We had a beautiful one named Sophia, but her title and marriage was dissolved the moment she gave birth to the prince. His cursed birth caused her to lose everything, including the love and devotion of her husband. Tonight, King Simon is searching for a new wife, and apparently, our king hopes to find his new queen at a special ball he’s hosting at the palace.
“You need to be careful tonight,” Boris says, shaking his head at my choice of attire. “That dress is sure to bring attention to you, and that’s the last thing you need. Why not choose something else to wear? I have a black dress downstairs that should fit you.”
“The one your cronies stole from the palace in Midnight?” I scoff. “I’ll pass on that one. It smells like mothballs and aged whiskey.”
Boris chuckles. His eyes light up with amusement. “Who raised you to be such a smart-ass?”
“The king of smart-asses.” I turn around to face him and curtsy. “All hail the king.”
“If I’m the king, I suppose that makes you the princess,” he jokes.
“Undoubtedly.” I smooth out my skirt. “This gown will make me blend in with all the other hopefuls tonight. I can assure you, red will be the most worn color at the ball because all the single women there will want to attract the notice of the king.”
Boris looks pointedly at the long V-shaped décolletage of my dress. “Are they all showing off their breasts in such an unholy fashion?”
“I never took you for a prude.”
“At least wear a shawl.”
I cross my arms. “No. I’m already wearing the wig and all this makeup on my face to make myself look different. A shawl will only attract more attention to me, and I think you’ll agree that the less attention I attract the better. Besides, this dress may play a role in my escape plan. You know that.”
“Which I also don’t care for,” he huffs. “Why do you have to be so dramatic on your heists?”
“Because that’s part of the fun for me. You used to like my flair for the dramatic. What’s up? Why are you so worried about tonight?”
Boris sighs heavily, closes his eyes, and rubs them with the heels of his hands. When he looks back at me, I swear he just aged a year in those few seconds.
“I have a bad feeling about tonight. Maybe we should call it off. It’s not like we need the money. We do rather well with the antique business, don’t you think? Maybe it’s time we stop stealing. You’re not getting any younger. Don’t you want to start a family of your own?”
“Have you forgotten who I am?” I ask, simultaneously feeling amused and angry. “Even if I could be touched by another man besides you, no one in their right mind would want to marry me. Or has your old brain become so addled that you don’t remember I’m only the poor human you got stuck raising?”
“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Boris stands from his chair and walks over to me. He takes my hands with his. His brown eyes are so earnest all I can do is believe every word he utters next. “I may not have known it the night your grandmother gave you to me, but I know it now. Without you, I would have simply been sleepwalking through my life, not knowing the joy and pride of fatherhood. You mean more to me than my own life, Ivy. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you or give you. If having a family of your own is what you want, I’ll do everything within my power to make that happen. Even if it means going through the Barrens myself to find you a husband.”
I want to laugh, but I don’t think he’s joking.
Instead, I grab hold of the front of his sweater with both hands. “Don’t you dare step foot inside the Barrens. You’ll never come back out. No one does. I’ve even heard tales of cannibals living in that wasteland. The last thing I need is for you to bring me back a man who will literally eat me alive. I have enough problems without adding that to the list.”
Boris squeezes my hands lightly. “People here are just jealous of you. None of us really want to change into wolves every day, and none of us want to end up like our poor little prince.”
I let go of his sweater. “I hate to admit it, but I feel sorry for him. Why do you think he was born in his wolf form and can’t change into a human at all?”
Boris shrugs. “I don’t know exactly, but I’ve heard rumors that the prince isn’t the only child born recently who can’t transform.”
“Really?” This is the first I’ve heard of other cubs unable to switch to their human form. “What do you think that means?”
“Too much inbreeding?” Boris jokes. He tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite work. “Some say that each generation has been losing more and more of its humanity. If this is any indication, I would have to agree with that assessment. In a few more generations, Dawn may only be populated by wolves.”
“What about Midnight? Do you think the Midnight pack is having the same problem?”
“I’ve heard that it is, but those are just rumors,” he says with a shrug. “There are fewer traders going between Dawn and Midnight this year since the Issip River is so high. The lowlands are flooded, and the ferry has only been making one trip a month. A lot of traders are seeing dwindling profits since they only have one day of twilight hours to make trades with the other pack.”
The twilight hours between six and seven each morning and night are considered magical. It’s the only times of day that both the Dawn and Midnight packs are simultaneously in their human forms and can communicate with one another.
“Well, I can’t honestly say I care if either pack loses the ability to transform. I’ll be dead and gone by the time that happens. Besides, the only person I want to talk to is you. The rest of them can go to hell for all I care.”
I walk over to my vanity table and powder my prosthetic nose one last time. To ensure no one recognizes me at the ball, Boris applied the fake nose and found me some contacts to change my eye color from blue to brown. I still look all right, just not the same.
“If you’re not back here within the hour,” he says, watching me touch up my makeup. “I’m coming in after you. Understand?”
I place my powder brush back on the vanity and turn to face him.
“You worry too much, old man. When have you ever known me to fail a mission?”
