Opening Danger: Dangerous Ties Book 1 - Paranormal Romance Read online

  Opening Danger

  Dangerous Ties Book One

  E.A. Shanniak

  Opening Danger: Dangerous Ties Book One by E.A. Shanniak

  Copyright © 2020 E.A. Shanniak

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design: Harvest Moon Cover Designs

  Developmental Editing: Brittany G.

  Line/Copy Editing: Tiffany P.

  Proofreading: Michelle F.

  Formatting: Keyminor Publishing

  Published by Eagle Creek Books LLC of Coldwater, Kansas

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical by photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized printed or electronic editions and do not participate or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  www.eashanniak.eaglecreekbooks.com

  To Michelle F.

  Thank you for your friendship, kindness, and encouragement. I adore your thoughtfulness and how compassionate you are to everyone; how you give back with a pure golden heart and a smile. I’m forever grateful for knowing such a wonderful person as you, and I’m so happy we’re friends. Thank you for helping me make this book great, and taking the time to read it and give me feedback. You’re an incredible person and I’m lucky to call you my friend.

  Much love,

  Ericka

  (P.S. Signe from CBH, HEYYY!!! It’s always so nice talking with you.)

  Author’s Note

  WARNING: This book contains scenes and foul language that some readers may find disturbing and/or triggering. Read at your own personal risk and don’t blame me. You were warned in the blurb and now here.

  This is an enemy to lover’s slow burn romance. There is no bedroom fun in THIS book; that will be book two. So don’t be pissed because, again, I warned you.

  Have fun inside the pages of this adventurous, snarky, crazy ride. Don’t hate me too much!

  MORE by - E.A. SHANNIAK

  Fantasy Romance – A Castre World Novel Standalones

  Piercing Jordie

  Mitering Avalee

  Forging Calida

  Uplifting Irie

  Braving Evan

  Warring Devan

  Hunting Megan

  Shifting Aramoren – A Castre World Short Story

  Anchoring Nola – A Castre World Short Story

  Storming Area 51— A Bayonet Books Anthology

  Stalking Death - short story

  Clean & Sweet Western Romance – Whitman Series Romances

  To Find A Whitman

  To Love A Thief

  To Save A Life

  To Lift A Darkness

  To Veil A Fondness

  To Bind A Heart

  To Hide A Treasure

  To Want A Change

  To Form A Romance — coming soon

  Paranormal Romance - Dangerous Ties Series

  Opening Danger

  Hunting Danger - coming soon

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Zuri

  Clicking the blinker on, I turned right, heading further into the epicenter of East OKimma, down the manicured street with precisely cropped hedges. This side of the city district, East OKimma, was occupied mainly by werewolves. The stark contrast between the districts was mind blowing. The east side was new, modern buildings, skyscrapers, everything fancy and pristine.

  The werewolves kept to themselves, organizing their side of the district into neat subdivisions with perfectly paved roads and not a bush out of place. Humans, like myself, and other beings, could venture into the east district and the subdivisions, as long as we didn’t cause trouble.

  I made another turn, and to your left another asshole wolf pack, I paused at my own musings, assholes who bare their teeth like mutts at a pound when you drive by. Please don't be alarmed, this is a three-thousand-pound vehicle, the dog will lose. I snorted, feeling slightly better even though it was crude.

  Overall, OKimma was overwhelmingly large. The city's divisions never ceased to amaze me. It was divided amongst the supernatural races, with humans sprinkled throughout the divisions. Each division was completely different: different styles of buildings, building materials and colors. Each district even had different plant life; the east side preferred cropped evergreen hedges and the west side preferred climbing plants like ivy and clematises.

  I sighed, my skin crawling with nerves. I was ready to be back on the west side of OKimma already; the side I preferred with beautiful historic brick buildings and old wooden stores, where I could easily lose myself inside a musty bookstore or aromatic candle shop, and ultimately where I felt safest.

  The district of West OKimma - Dragon District - where actual dragons resided had old, historic buildings of stone, small square wood paned glass windows, and hand-milled wood beams. I love the historic area of the west side. Especially when the dragons played nice and weren't complaining about a centuries-long feud with the werewolves that no one remembered the cause of. Their memories were long but damn, holding a grudge for that long baffled me. It's not like their disputes weren't ever settled either. Hell, the werewolf one may have been settled ages ago. It's just that dragons never forgot.

  West OKimma was the safest for beings like me: human - because no one desired to piss off a dragon and crime was nearly non-existent. The east side, where I was granny-careful-driving at the moment, occupied mainly by wolves, witches, and ogres was the most troublesome. They fought amongst themselves. And fights, from what I had seen on the news, could break out anywhere and at any time. I had no desire to be in or around it. Not because I was a peace-loving gal, but because everyone was allowed to carry weapons and use magic. Getting struck by an ogre’s ax, witch’s spell, or chomped by werewolf teeth wasn't top of my list for fun.

  I flicked my blinker on to take a right turn and I scanned the houses on my left. Not there yet. But I did catch a political sign. I scoffed. The city of
OKimma as a whole was ruled by a human woman gifted with dragon magic. I blew my lips. Gifted, more like political brokering. Queen Ariella stayed locked up in her castle home, called Kadia Castle, on the outskirts of OKimma, where spells, and every high-tech security gadget ensured her safety. She made an appearance once a year, demonstrating her power on the first Saturday in July to celebrate the god Elohi’s rise to power and Diomedes’s fall back to the underworld. Her display usually consisted of fancy magic works and her various paranormal minions surrounding her. Then she would go back inside for another year; passing laws and making deals from the comfort and safety of her home.

  Checking the rearview mirror, West OKimma continued to fade from sight. I lived on the west side in the dragon community where I was left alone, in my little gated apartment complex with my cat, Luell. Despite my crabby, cat hoarding, old bitty of a neighbor, I loved how protected I felt inside the complex.

  Glancing over to the passenger’s seat, a little black box stared at me. I hated the box, and I hated what I would have to put inside. Grimacing, I pulled over to the side of the road.

  This gated community, much like every other pack’s, faced me with black iron bars and a matching fence that looked like vicious teeth. The gate yawned shut, clanging in place like a death toll bell after a car ahead of me drove through. Taking a deep breath, I tried to dispel the dread I felt, but only managed to feel the hairs begin to stand on my arms. I took another look, making sure to overlook the ferociously grinning teeth of the gate. In a postage stamp sized box-building, Arno watched the entrance and exit of the gated werewolf community.

  I groaned. Arno and I weren't exactly buddies. He tolerated me because I knew some mutual werewolves from work and back when I was in high school, and I tolerated him as I liked not being chomped to pieces.

  Merging back onto the road, I rolled down my window manually, wishing again for those fancy electric windows on the newer vehicles. I carefully zoomed across the street, pulling up to the gatehouse window and pasting a bright, fake smile for the prickly wolf.

  Arno’s scowl deepened across his olive toned face while he rolled his emerald eyes at me. “You’re not welcome back,” he growled, raking his fingers through a mop of ebony hair.

  I shrugged, pretending nonchalance, “I have something that needs to get back to the Sandalio Holding.”

  Arno perked a brow. “And that is?”

  “None of your business,” I said, my throat constricting.

  “Ah,” Arno replied, a smug smirk creasing his hardened face.

  I wanted to wipe it clean. If Arno knew what happened, I wondered how many others in the Sandalio pack did too.

  Arno grinned viciously, exposing his fangs just to taunt me. “I will allow you entrance one last time, Zuri; then don’t come back. Your ties here are done.”

  I dipped my head in thanks as Arno didn’t have to allow me in. And I knew his silent threat was serious. “I understand.”

  Arno hit the button allowing the double iron gates to open inward. The thick metal silently opened into a nicely landscaped subdivision. Each house was manicured to perfection, each varying slightly in color. Beautiful maples lined in between the paved road and sidewalk.

  Lifting my foot off the brake, I drove inside. I knew where I was going by heart and like my heart, it hurt painfully that all I had envisioned for myself was a lie. I swallowed back all the tears threatening to fall. Already I had spent too much time wallowing.

  Arriving at the house where I needed to be, I made a u-turn in the middle of the silent road and parked. The rumble of the engine tried to drown out all the scattered messy thoughts in my head.

  I glanced down at the engagement ring on my finger. I had yet to take it off, hoping maybe I was wrong. Yet me being here proved otherwise. The ring made my heart wrench and my stomach swirled with bitterness that I was duped; and wearing it, even now, reminded me not to be so careless again, or at least not so easily duped. Even now, the pain of what I must do, broke me. His last words, I would marry you today if I could; you know that Zuri. It was all bullshit; and it hurt deeply.

  Being cheated on and abandoned was something I’d not dealt with in my life and I wasn’t sure how to place the twisting emotions. Right now, I’m angry, hurt, and a little bitter. Earlier today, I felt ugly. The breakup between us was more a reflection of him than me, but it still hurt and caused me to question myself. Two years of memories, pictures, fun, all thrown away in a matter of minutes, yet it felt like hours.

  Sighing, I rested the back of my head against the headrest of the Bronco evaluating where I was physically and emotionally for a brief moment. I was inside the gated community of the Sandalio pack, waiting to gather up some courage to step out of my rig and face the jerk who'd broken my heart. Emotionally, I was a mess.

  Staring at the ring, I pulled it off my finger, something I should have done two weeks ago, snorting derisively as I shoved it back in the small black box to die. Lazaro was mate bonding next week to a werewolf in another pack. They made an adorable couple. Even I had to admit it. Still, the sting of the breakup after being engaged for a year, along with the fake promise of forever love, burned my heart more than I would ever dare to admit out loud.

  I checked my long blonde hair in the rearview mirror. My long, curling iron ringlets were a mess, but I didn’t care. My black blouse had a small hole in the left side bottom hem, but it would be covered by my dark brown leather jacket. My dark wash jeans and hiking boots fit comfortably. I slid the handgun I carried for protection from my side holster and stuck it in the glovebox out of respect to the Sandalio pack.

  A werewolf couple passed my rig, walking hand in hand; their narrowed green eyes fixed on me, before turning away. A human wouldn’t be a threat to them. Shifters and magic abounded in the whole of Quivleren, let alone OKimma. Dragons stayed on their side of town while were-packs stayed on theirs, and other forms of paranormal lined the outskirts and anywhere else. Humans, like myself, were outnumbered, scattered throughout Quivleren, but we were left alone for the most part since most races found us nothing more than a mild annoyance at worst and less than important at best.

  I glanced out the window to Lazaro’s parents' gated picturesque mansion. Lazaro’s car pulled out of the pristine concrete driveway, taking off south toward the downtown area of the west side. I sighed, opening the Bronco door. His father spotted me before I made it across the street. His gray-brown brows furrowed, and green eyes held annoyance. Like Lazaro, his father was well over six feet, broad and muscular.

  “Zuri,” he announced.

  I swallowed. “Hello, Mr. Sandalio,” tucking my long sunshine blonde hair behind my ear, I continued, “I need to give something back to Lazaro.”

  Arthur rolled his eyes, striding to meet me. “What is it?” he demanded.

  “You’ll know when you see it,” I replied despondently. “I can’t keep this.”

  Arthur opened the black box, scowling further; his bushy eyebrows scrunching tightly together, becoming one. “How did you get this? Is this some kind of joke, human?” Arthur practically growled the last word, sending shivers up my back. I refused to let him see.

  “No, sir. Ask him yourself.” I straightened my back, forcing my hands not to crawl into my jean pockets. “I know you never liked me, but you also know damn well, I don’t lie.”

  “You’re right,” He conceded and spat out in disgust, “I can smell lies on you… humans. Whatever he did, he shouldn’t have. I will take care of this.”

  I nodded, turning to leave. I strode across the street back to my Bronco. The car door creaked open.

  “Zuri!” Arthur called.

  I turned around, the wind whipping hair in my face. “Yes, sir?” I tucked my blonde tresses inside the back of my jacket.

  His tone softened a fraction and I saw a hint of compassion in his eyes, “You’re a good one, just not for my son or pack.”

  Two other males came outside from the Sandalio Mansion, glaring at me. I
swallowed hard, forcing back tears.

  “Thank you,” I choked out before my voice cracked.

  Sitting in the seat of my rig, all breath left my body in a rush. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the headrest. My hands naturally gripped the steering wheel. Tears tracked down my face and I wiped them away bitterly.

  “At least it’s over,” I whispered.

  The keys fumbled in my hands before I was able to insert them into the ignition. My old Bronco turned over, the engine humming with power. Today was hard. Tomorrow would be harder as I said goodbye to this beast of a vehicle. Lazaro got me the Bronco stating I needed metal to protect me, keep me safe. He found me my favorite rig and had it converted to a diesel. It had been sweet and I loved the beast of a vehicle, but it was a reminder of him and what I was to never have.

  “So much bullshit in one handsome body,” I mumbled.

  The motor hummed. I checked my mirrors before pulling away for good. There would never be a need to come to this part of town again. I pulled up to the guardhouse, handing over the guest pass.

  “Don’t come back,” Arno said, shredding the temporary passcode.

  “No need,” I replied. “I returned what I needed to.”