Primal Instinct Read online

  Primal Instinct

  A Prowler Novel

  Ally Parker

  Contents

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Afterword

  Excerpt from Primal Night

  Also by Ally Parker

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 Ally Parker.

  Cover Art by Croco Designs

  Editors: Creech Enterprises and Suzanne Johnson

  Digital formatting by Vellum

  Primal Instinct is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, with the exception of quotes used in reviews.

  This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal enjoyment on your reading device. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions. Thank you for respecting this author’s work.

  * This book contains swearing and sexual content and is best suited for mature readers. *

  Acknowledgments

  Possibilities are endless, and with enough grit, determination, and consistency you make your own destiny.

  I’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone who made this possible. Always to my husband and kids, who support me every step of the way.

  Thank you, Jeanie and Suzanne and Jessica—you work wonders! This story wouldn’t be half as good if it weren’t for you.

  Thanks to my mum and the rest of my family and friends for your words of encouragement and enduring my teaser spam.

  A shout-out to Croco Designs, who crafted an instalove-worthy cover!

  Last but not least, thank you, readers. If not for you, this would have all been for nothing.

  Enjoy!

  1

  Everyone was destined to die. Only the cursed were burdened to lose their humanity one day at a time. Jaxx Reynolds was one of those creatures—a shifter cursed with an evolving glyph, each stroke representing a sliver of humanity lost, and Jaxx’s marking was pretty damned detailed. He clenched his teeth and stared out the window above the kitchen sink, his gaze scouring the bank of trees surrounding Shadow Moon territory.

  “Where the fuck are you, Lucas?” Maybe letting his were protégé out in the wild had been a bad idea. He’s with Ethan. It’s fine. If the enforcer was tailing Lucas, there would be nothing to worry about. Nothing got past the male.

  Jaxx glanced back at the microwave clock. Noon. So, why weren’t they back? It had been nearly twenty-four hours since they had been meant to pull in. Stop worrying like you’re his damn mommy. Lucas’s control was solid. The were was probably struggling to leave his family again. It hadn’t been long since Jaxx had broken shifter law to save the male. Now, Lucas was saddled with a wolf that would burst from his body every full moon. But at least he was alive—a feat considering he’d been stabbed and had been bleeding to death. And at least he wouldn’t lose his humanity. That privilege was reserved for shifters alone.

  The butter in the pan sizzled, and Jaxx threw on one of the twenty cuts of meat. It wouldn’t be long until the rest of the pack moseyed on up to the pack house for lunch. After he’d finished his assigned duties he could swing by Lucas’s place and kick him up the ass for making him worry. Then they would knuckle down and start hunting for the female who’d witnessed him wolfing out and biting Lucas in an alley beside his club, Prowlers. It would make him feel a helluva lot better if he could start extinguishing the trouble he’d caused the pack. If all went well, maybe they could focus on discrediting the snapshot that some no-good, blackmailing mutt from the Dark Falls pack had taken of the whole thing.

  The back door slammed open, and the subtle undertone of rogue hit Jaxx’s senses. He froze, lifting his chin and scenting the air. He’d know that sour stench anywhere. He swallowed down sorrow, and the muscles around his spine tightened. The frayed thread of life was about to snap for one of his pack brothers. Thuds banged down the hall as the male’s shoulders bounced off the walls. Currents tingled around him, a telltale sign someone approached. The scent grew stronger; Jaxx could make out the original smell swirling with decay. “Shit!”

  His chest constricted. Xavier. One of Shadow Moon’s finest enforcers.

  “Help! I need Saint now!”

  Jaxx shut his eyes, swallowing hard. His muscles tensed, and the grip on the knife tightened at Xavier’s command. Besides the animalistic tone to his voice, Jaxx could smell Xavier’s scent warping to a pungent tang, overwhelming the male’s usual odor.

  Slowly, he placed the knife on the counter, abandoning the steak to sizzle on low heat. Not even the mouthwatering aroma of the pack’s lunch could drown out the smell radiating from the male. Opening his eyes, Jaxx looked out the window at the large forest that was the Shadow Moon territory, wondering why this happened to their kind. His own glyph itched, reminding him, he could be next. Unless he could find the one woman strong enough to keep his wolf at bay, it would eventually be him, submitting to the monster lurking beneath the surface.

  Xavier growled, and Jaxx spun to face him. Naked as the day he was born, hunched over the counter. His chest heaved with exaggerated breaths, and the tips of his human fingers had morphed into wolf claws, digging into the dark marble bench top. Like all shifters, the left side of his body was covered in the glyph of his wolf. Almost lifelike with the amount of intricate detail, it looked as fierce and deadly as Jaxx knew the animal to be. Tribal swirls and accents started from the outer edge of his foot, up his leg, into his torso, straight up his neck into his hairline, framing the creature. Each brushstroke represented a measure of humanity lost.

  Jaxx drew in a sharp breath. Damn it to hell! Xavier’s glyph was seconds from completing, the moment all shifters dreaded. All of their kind prayed to be mated before the last stroke formed on their ever-developing markings. No one wanted to turn into a wild, savage beast, killing without conviction or attacking the people they cherished most prior to their rogue transformation. A fate Jaxx had witnessed many times in his two hundred years.

  Claws scratching along the marble top jerked his attention back to Xavier. The male’s ginger hair stood on end, as if he had dragged his hands through the strands repeatedly. Jaxx’s gut twisted. It had only been last week that they had both been out for a drink at Prowlers, planning tactics for their next mate hunt—something Xavier would never get the opportunity to do now. This was the end for his friend, and it cut Jaxx to his core.

  How could the possibilities have seemed endless yesterday, and now, hopeless? All the men in the Shadow Moon pack were worthy of happiness, but lately they were losing more of the males to their animal within.

 
“Xavier… I’m sorry.” Xavier would never know the loving touch of his mate. The only measure of peace Jaxx could offer would be deliverance of mercy, allowing Xavier’s honor and integrity to remain intact. He had upheld pack law and sought out their alpha before succumbing to his rogue urges.

  Jaxx gritted his teeth, knowing their alpha, Saint, was in an alpha council meeting. It was days like this when his position as beta sucked ass. He resigned himself to the fact Xavier would die by his hands. Jaxx took a step closer, but Xavier’s growl held him in place.

  “Can you fight it?”

  Xavier laughed. “Fight it?” Sweat trickled from his temple. When he continued, it was through clenched teeth. “I’ve been fighting it since the get-go.”

  At puberty their bodies made the first shift and the first sign of their markings appeared, a unique glyph that sizzled across their skin for no rhyme or reason. Sometimes a shifter got lucky and worked out triggers, delaying the inevitable, but sometimes they didn’t. From that day forward, their fate was sealed, tethered to finding a true mate.

  Xavier’s eyes took on a reddish glow around the edges. “Save it… I need… Saint.” He paused, panting some breaths before shouting, “Now!”

  Shit! Jaxx wasn’t a stranger to death or killing; however, releasing a warrior never got easier. He kept his muscles relaxed and craned his neck to each side. Xavier watched him, his eyes narrowed. “Saint’s not here. I accept the responsibility. The pack will know your honor was intact.”

  For a brief moment, relief flashed across Xavier’s features before he grunted and doubled over. Within seconds, the last of the ink connected. Xavier’s head shot up and glared at Jaxx. The amber color of his eyes receded, morphing into red lasers.

  Xavier lunged simultaneously, shifting midair. A motley wolf barreled toward Jaxx, his claws outstretched, ready to rip him to shreds. Jaxx jumped back, and Xavier’s claws missed his stomach, tearing down his left arm. He grunted, embraced the pain, and used the burn to feed his anger. Anger he could use to make his task bearable.

  Slamming a right hook into Xavier, Jaxx sent the male skidding across the floor, where he smashed into the fridge. Jaxx sank to his knees and his body fell forward, muscles and bones contorting and reforming to the shape of his wolf’s body. Skin maneuvered and stretched over his muzzle, and black-tipped gray fur shot out of his pores. Sharp teeth exploded in his mouth; his own razor claws pierced his fingertips.

  Shaking his body, Jax let his tattered clothes fall to the tiles, along with most of his human tendencies. Teeth pierced his shoulder. Jaxx snarled, spinning around and knocking Xavier into the cupboard. Xavier yelped at the same time as the whitewashed cupboard door splintered. Taking the opportunity, Jaxx attacked, ramming him into the cupboard again. Xavier staggered back, and Jaxx leapt onto the male, dragging his claws across his flank. Jaxx’s teeth sunk deep into Xavier’s skin, blood pooled in his mouth, and his beast basked in the glory of it. A dark and ugly part of him urged him to tear the flesh from his opponent’s bones.

  Their bodies slammed against the counter and dishes sitting on the edge of the bench crashed to the floor, shards of porcelain scattering onto the tiles. Xavier snarled, bucking him off. The other members of the pack would be joining them soon, and Jaxx wanted Xavier neutralized before anyone else was put in danger. Leaping, he met Xavier in the air. They both stood on their hind legs, their teeth clashing, spittle and blood dampening their fur. He dug his claws deeper into Xavier’s shoulders; his teeth tore into flesh. Xavier howled and sank his canines into Jaxx’s shoulder.

  Jaxx gnashed his teeth against the burning pain, shaking his head. Xavier ripped free and dodged his attack. Son of a bitch. Jaxx inched forward, his lip quivering in warning. Faster than he’d have liked, Xavier shot forward, his mouth wide, razor teeth gunning for the kill. At the last second, Jaxx darted left, narrowly missing his date with the Reaper. For a moment, his vision turned red and his mouth watered for the kill. Body quivering, anticipating the last moments of battle before he ended it for Xavier. Jaxx spun and attacked, not holding anything back. He tore chunks of fur and flesh from Xavier, enjoying each yowl of pain.

  Xavier’s blood tasted like whiskey slipping down his throat a little too easily—hot and comforting. Pleasure hummed in his body. He felt powerful. Strength coursed through his veins with each drop of Xavier’s blood. For a few moments, no thought filtered through his mind other than the kill. The decision carried a monumental weight. He knew if he could end the male, he would be unstoppable.

  In some small recess of the wolf’s mind, Jaxx’s human side panicked. He understood kill or be killed—in most cases it was pack motto—but only rogues enjoyed death. Trapped in the quicksand of his curse, his thoughts were slow and sluggish. With every ounce of his being, he fought for his humanity.

  He envisioned his true mate.

  The same vision he always conjured during his darkest struggles. It didn’t matter that he could never see what she looked like; the thought of someone solely for him brought him a measure of peace. He pictured his arms wrapped around her, her voice almost lyrical in quality, urging him to dig deep, use his strength to hold on, and fight for her. She would find him soon. All he needed to do was hold on a little longer.

  As if hit with a sledgehammer, Jaxx took control of his mind, thrusting the wolf back, allowing more of his humanity to pour into the void of death and destruction. Cold to his bones, fear wasn’t something he felt often. He felt it then.

  “What the hell…” a woman screamed, then reached for skillet in the middle of the island counter.

  Shit!

  That’s all he needed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quinn’s very human mate, Sasha, standing in the middle of their battle. Jaxx repositioned himself, keeping the female and Xavier in his sight. He wanted to kick his own ass for falling so deeply into his wolf’s frenzied mind.

  Xavier and Jaxx froze. Quinn’s mate was completely in the dark about their kind. Saint had agreed she could visit the compound as long as she was guarded at all times by Quinn during the courting process. That plan had obviously turned to shit.

  Sasha was in trouble. Hell, if anything happened to her, Quinn may as well bend over and kiss his ass good-bye. The loss would send him over the edge, and Jaxx would have to deal with not only one but two rogues.

  Xavier growled, saliva dripping from his long, sharp teeth. With no further warning he launched himself toward Quinn’s salvation.

  Mackenzie Sutton glanced around the darkening, deserted parking lot, searching the shadows for danger. Cool air billowed through her hoodie and she shivered, shoving her hands into her jean pockets. She didn’t have a good feeling about this. A laugh slipped out, although it lacked humor. Did she ever have a good feeling about a rendezvous under the cover of dusk?

  Air fluttered behind her, and she spun to face the ominous-looking building. In a smooth motion, her hand tightened on her pocketknife and pulled it out of her jeans, the blade extended and ready to do damage. Pigeons flew from the ledge of a broken window to land on the rooftop rail. She blew out a breath. It’s just the birds. Get a grip on yourself, Kenzie.

  Scanning the area, her vision swept across the abandoned building. The windows were broken, and tags in thick black paint were scrawled across the front of the complex. Nothing like the slums to reassure her safety. Once she was satisfied the area was clear, her shoulders slowly relaxed and she shoved the knife back into her pocket. Putting her back to the building, she watched for the person who’d be sent to give her orders.

  Weariness settle upon her. How could one mistake have screwed up not only her life, but her sister’s as well? She gritted her teeth against the consuming guilt she drowned in daily whenever she thought of her sister. Was Ava hurt? Would Kenzie ever be able to free either of them? Just thinking of her sister trapped in a cell sent her rage skyrocketing, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness coursed through her veins like a disease.

  Frustrated, she kicked a loose
rock, watching as it flew through the air and bounced off some crates. Life had been hard after their mom abandoned them. Kenzie rolled her eyes; life had been hard before their mom up and left. Her dad was probably a dealer. It wouldn’t have been the first time her mom paid for drugs with her body—did she even know what it was like to be sober? For as long as she was able, it had always been Kenzie’s job to provide and protect.

  She had failed.

  Life had molded her into a fighter—she didn’t know how to be anything else, and it fueled her to never stop reaching for their freedom. Straightening, she shook her head. Of course she would save her sister. She’d always gotten them out of trouble in the past, and this time was no different. It was taking a little longer than she’d hoped. But… Everything was going to work out. One more job and she would have earned their freedom. Just one more.

  Her Delmac-issued cell rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. Doctor LeRoy’s name flashed on the screen, and she sneered, hating the doctor for blackmailing her, hating herself for making the worst mistake of her life. Snapping the lid closed to her emotions, she accepted the call. “Yeah?”

  “Pleasant as always, Kenzie.”

  The sweet, condescending tone set her on edge. She hated how the woman referred to her in such a familiar way. Kenzie balled her hand into a fist, her nails digging into her palm. “My name is Mackenzie.”