1. Ashe

The music was almost deafening. The rhythmic cadence, laden with heavy bass drops and sharp technotic upswings, vibrated over the walls and floor until it was pulsing throughout my entire body. Beads of sweat dot my brow and several strands of auburn hair that had since wiggled loose from a messy bun cling to my slicked skin. I resist the urge to swipe them away and instead bury my fingers into the long brown hair of the eager-eyed stranger grinding against me.

The woman's piercing amber eyes, slightly glazed over from the euphoric mix of music and alcohol, roam over my body and I see the hint of a devilish grin dance on her lips. Her desire assaults me in waves and I return her smile in kind.

For a brief moment, I entertain the idea of taking her home for a bit of fun. As it were, tonight I was in the mood for a different flavor. But there was no harm in enjoying the feel of her lithe body pressed against mine, even if only for the moment. The suffocating aroma of leather, sweat, and booze fills the air but it only serves to fuel the raging mob of clubgoers around me and soon I become lost in the strobe-lit revelry.

I needed this. It might have taken a little more self-convincing than I was normally used to, and clubs and crowds are most definitely not my scene, but I needed this tonight. I feel another smile tug at the corners of my lips and I give in, allowing the feeling to wash over me. It has been a while since I've smiled.

When the stifling heat finally overcomes the rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins, I brush the hair from my face and shove my way off the dance floor. The beautiful brunette stays behind, her arms latching on to the next available body as the tempo changes, and I briefly imagine the sort of fun we could have had later. It makes my head spin.

My head is still reeling as I stumble in search of refreshment, nearly losing my footing as I crash into the only empty stool at the bar. "Goddamn heels," I mutter under my breath. I hate heels, they made walking such a chore. But tonight, they were a necessary evil. Snapping my fingers at the bartender, I fight for his attention over the crowd gathered at the dark-lit watering hole, yelling out my order over the music when he finally glances in my direction.

"I'm gonna have to cut you off, sugar plum," the burly bartender says as he pops the cap off a beer bottle. He was a mountain of a man with a stocky build, full beard, and chestnut locks pulled back into a loose bun that somehow made him appear younger than he probably was. "You've hit your limit tonight."

I glower at him, a look that could kill, as I squeeze a hand forcibly into the pocket of my too-tight jeans and whip out a crisp five-dollar bill. "Jack. And. Coke." I enunciate every word as I slap the slip of paper onto the counter. The night was still young and I was not nearly drunk enough. "Consider it my nightcap."

"Sugar plum—"

"Christ, man, just get the lady her drink."

I turn to the man next to me, watching as he lifts the beer bottle to his lips. The thick scruff of black hair around his jaw and neckline gives him a roguish appearance, and his dark eyes regard me with a curious—dare I say predatory—interest.

A shiver runs up my spine as his eyes glance me over again and I know that I've found tonight's flavor. A sense of unadulterated excitement comes over me, but before I can stop myself my defenses kick in and I snap. "What, you don't think I can get my own damn drink?"

The man shrugs indifferently, taking another swig. "Never mind," he says, turning away as he nods to the bartender. "It sounds like you've got it covered, then."

Shit!

"No, no, no," I protest, shaking my head as I turn my stool carefully to face the would-be bar hero. "Please, I-I'm sorry. It's just, it's been a long week." The world suddenly begins to spin again and I prop my elbows on the bar top, resting my chin in an open palm as I slide my money toward him. He quirks a brow, hungry eyes upon me again, and I feel everything pour out of me all at once as if I'm some Catholic schoolgirl in a confessional: "My boyfriend decided to play 'hide the weasel' in my best friend's cunt, my roommate moved out before paying her half of the rent, my job is slowly killing my soul, my cat ran away. Did I mention that my roommate was my best friend?"

Christ, is this what desperation sounds like? It leaves a bitter taste on my tongue and I grimace. I need to wash that down.

I fight off a scowl as the man places his hand over mine. "Shit, babe, keep your money," he says as the bartender finally brings out my order. "This one's on me."

Huh, I guess desperation does have its appeal. Perhaps this can be salvaged after all. I just hope all this trouble is worth it. "You're sweet. I'm sorry to burden you with all my problems. Alcohol just really knocks down my willpower sometimes, you know?"

He grins and raises his hands innocently, despite the lust that now clouds his gray eyes. "No harm done, babe. We tortured souls need to stick together. I'm Stan, by the way."

I take his hand in mine, peering at him through heavy lids. "Ashe. Nice to meet you."

"Ashe, huh? That's a unique name. Is it short for, like, Ashley or something?"

"No, nothing like that. My mother just had an unusual infatuation with fire—some might say deadly, even. You could probably argue that I'm just as dangerous."

He chuckles. "You don't look that dangerous to me."

"Get to know me a little better," I say with a wink. "I think I can change your mind."

We laugh and talk until the club's DJ spins the last song of the night. I blink and stare down at my beverage, untouched. "Damn, I didn't even finish my drink." I turn back to Stan and smile sheepishly. "I'm so sorry I made you waste your money."

"You apologize a lot, you know that?" Stan smirks wolfishly as he grabs his coat from the bar and stands up. "Anyway, don't worry about it. You can make it up to me by letting me walk you to your car."

Another shiver rocks my body as I take his outstretched hand. "Good to know that chivalry isn't dead," I laugh as he pulls me roughly through the thinning crowd and out the nearest door. I can practically feel the excitement emanating from him and my grin widens. This was definitely the flavor I was looking for tonight.

The stark winter cold chills the sweat on my skin as we step out into the back alley. The night compresses around us, almost suffocating me as I let Stan lead me into the dark abyss. There were no street lights as we pressed on, rounding a corner, and it took longer than I'd like to admit before I realized where we were going. "Stan, I think the lot's back that way," I whisper, my words echoing in the silence. I feel his body tense, but he does not immediately reply. And we do not slow down. "Did you hear me? I said—"

His grip tightens on my hand, numbing my fingers as he freezes in his tracks. More shivers crawl up my spine, the sensation tingling my arms, and my breath quickens. I can practically taste his desire now and I want to vomit. "Stan?"

Before I can react, he whirls around and wraps his beefy fingers around my neck. "I can't wait any longer," he huffs, shoving my backside into the brick wall behind me. His eyes gleam with an unearthly hunger as he licks his lips, jagged rows of pointed teeth gnashing as he growls, "I'm hungry now."

I kick my legs as Stan lifts me higher against the wall with inhuman strength. His fingernails grow rapidly, hardening into tiny daggers as they bite into my skin. "Y-you prick!"

"Sorry babe, but this isn't your lucky night."

"No," I gasp, clawing at his arm. I feel a familiar heat burning in my veins, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin as my muscles slowly uncoil. My entire being was vibrating with excitement now and I could no longer contain it. I grin as the heat licks at my eyes, radiating off of me and causing Stan to flinch. "This isn't your lucky night, you shifter fuck!"

The wide-eyed surprise that washed over my would-be killer's face made my drunken farce from earlier more than worth it. "Tell me, Stan," I smirk, and I could see my appearance reflected in his frightened gaze: the veins that were visible in my neck and face now glowed brightly beneath my pale skin, and my hazel eyes were now engulfed in searing blue flames. "How do you take your meals these days? All liquored up with a hint of fear?"

His grip on my throat relaxes as realization fills his once-hungry stare. "Shit, y-you're a demon!"

"Half demon, actually." I drop to my feet, mentally cursing as my footing slips in these damn heels. "But I'm more than that, babe. I'm a fucking Reaper." I brandish a long silver-edged dagger before his eyes, the curved steel that peeked out from my jacket sleeve shimmering in the unnatural blue glow surrounding us. He recognizes the telltale blade and the desire I felt pulsating within him moments ago dissolves into primal fear, the brusque orange aura of his hunger cooling off to a lily-livered purple.

Before Stan can turn and run, I twine my fingers in his hair and shove him forcibly to his knees. Holding his head firm, I bend down and press my lips against his ear. "Told you I was dangerous, asshole."

"C-come on," he pleads as I caress the cool metal against his cheek. A thin trail of smoke rises from the burn left behind on his skin and my smirk widens. "I wasn't gonna, I was only—"

"I saw you eyeing that brunette in the club," I hiss, pulling away and yanking his head back. I had seen his greedy eyes on that woman all night, licking his lips as he studied her from his seat at the bar. I could feel his hunger growing from across the room. Without even asking for it, I saw his gluttonous desire clearly in my mind. He would have stalked her when she left, lured her into a dark alley similar to the one we were in now, and fed on her flesh. If I had not offered myself up as bait when I did, this scene would be playing out much differently. "You targeted her as your midnight snack. If you had been feeding on, say, dogs or rats then that's one thing. We would've turned a blind eye. But cannibalism, really?" I tsk and waggle a finger in his face. "Feeding on human flesh is illegal for your kind. You've been careless, Stan."

"How's it any different than letting those bloodsuckers feed on them?"

"Most humans survive an encounter with one of them because they don't rip their victims to shreds and leave their evidence for the cops to find."

"Oh, what's it to you?" he snarls, his pupils dilating as he struggles against my hold.

"The messes you've been leaving behind have started to draw the wrong kind of attention and I had to put on goddamn heels just to lure you out of hiding!" Hot air gusts from my nose as I tilt my head. "You thought you were being clever, didn't you? Keeping to crowded places like a wolf among sheep, surrounding yourself with humans so we don't cause a scene. Did you really think we wouldn't come after you?"

"They're only humans! Why shouldn't they be a part of the food chain?"

The beers he consumed throughout the evening were affecting his strength, as was the lack of a full moon in the night sky; I knew I would have a harder time subduing him, otherwise. Give thanks to the little things, I guess.

'Only humans.'

What was it to me? I was half human. It was the only reason this werewolf did not sense what I was the moment I approached him.

My lips twitch as I swallow my anger. "It doesn't matter. Your carelessness risks exposing us all and because of that you've been marked for death."

"M-my pack will—"

"Your pack won't defy the will of the Tribunal, and they sure as hell won't risk their own necks for a mutt who can't control his cravings. You do know what happens to bad dogs, don't you?" I kneel so that my eyes are level with his and a devilish grin washes over me as his struggling intensifies. He knew what was coming. Good.

This is my favorite part.

"Show me what fears lurk in the deepest corners of your mind, Stan." I can feel the flames glow hotter as I peer into his wide gray eyes, searching the depths of his soul as I prepare to rip his mind apart. "Let's see what makes you scream."

***

The club was all but empty by the time I walk back in.

I resume my seat at the bar and reach for my untouched drink from earlier. The heat that seared my insides minutes before has already dissipated, and I did not need a mirror to know that my veins no longer glowed and my eyes were back to their normal hazel, non-flaming hue.

"I'll call the cleaners in a bit, Marco," I say, drawing the bartender's gaze. "Someone left a real mess back there. He was kind of a squirter, too."

The bear of a man sighs. "Why do you always insist on conducting your business at my bar?"

"Why do all these criminals insist on turning your club into their own personal hunting grounds?" I wave my arms through the air as if to say, 'This place, really?'

"It's not like I asked for that kind of notoriety, Ashe. Hell, this place wasn't even on their radar until your demon ass started coming here."

"Half," I quip, biting back my annoyance as I quirk a brow. "Why does an arkoudan even own a nightclub, anyway? I thought your kind hated crowds."

"Bjørnekriger," he corrects me and I roll my eyes.

"Bjørnekriger, arkoudan. Same shit. You're still a goddamn bear shifter."

"Fera."

I snort, fanning a palm at his political correctness like a bad smell. "Like I said, same shit."

"Would it kill you to be a little more cognizant of our heritage? Not all ferae are the same, you know."

"Oh, now there's a big word. Think of that one all on your own, did you?"

Marco shakes his head, his thin lips curling into a smirk as he crosses his hairy arms over his thick chest. "You'll never change, will you?"

"It's not on my to-do list at the moment." As I pull out a pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket, I take the momentary pause in our conversation as an opportunity to study him.

I was not too fond of shapeshifters, particularly the half-breed mutts of the werewolf tribes. Like Stan, most werewolves tended to give in to their more primal instincts; even more so when the full moon uncaged their inner beast. Hardly any creature was a match against the monstrous strength of a werewolf, then. And unlike the purebred lycans, their distant cousins, they had no control over the change.

But the arkouda were a different breed entirely. Strong, hairy, and bearish, they could rip a full-grown lycan in half with ease and probably plow right through a small pack of them before being taken down. Their prowess was matched only by the werewolves and their unhinged brutality. But despite his rugged edge and imposing stature, I found Marco to be about as frightening as a teddy bear. His concern was endearing—sometimes.

"Tell me," Marco says suddenly, drawing me from my thoughts. He leans over the counter, a mischievous glint twinkling in his green eyes. "Did your boyfriend really play hide the weasel?"

I nearly choke as a laugh erupts from my throat. "Marco!" I yell once I'm able to breathe again. "Were you eavesdropping?"

The bartender merely holds up his hands in mock innocence. "Honest question, sugar plum. You are dressed to kill tonight."

"Come on, Marco. Werewolves are drawn to desperation like wild dogs sniffing out a bitch in heat. They practically drool over it. Besides, you know I don't swing that way. Though if I did"—I size him up and offer him a playful wink—"hate to say it, but you wouldn't be my type." A wayward chuckle escapes my lips as I take a sip of my drink and add, "Bestiality isn't exactly my thing and you lack the boobs that I so thoroughly enjoy on my flings."

"It never ceases to amaze me at how much you can drink without getting drunk."

"Yeah, the whole 'fire in your veins' thing kind of burns it off faster than I can enjoy it." I avoid his gaze as I shake a cigarette out of the pack. "It's a real buzz kill, actually."

He scoffs. "Your liver must be thankful for that. Your lungs, on the other hand . . ."

I nonchalantly flip him a middle finger as I flick the lighter open and ignite the end of the cigarette. He laughs all the same.

"Anyway," I say, filling the space between us as I exhale a cloud of smoke. "This was my last assignment before I retire, so I figured why not dress up for the occasion and celebrate."

Marco raises a bushy eyebrow. "No shit. They actually gonna let you go?"

I shoot him a pointed stare. "At least try to sound like you'll miss me."

"You're leaving town?"

I take another thoughtful puff as I consider his question. My line of work did not come without certain risks, although leaving the Tribunal's service may prove to be just as risky. But I was tired and some risks were just worth taking.

"I'll still be around," I say after a while. "Sobriety's boring enough when I actually have work to do. I can't imagine how dull it'll be when I've nothing to occupy my time."

Though, truth be told, I was actually looking forward to a long stretch of nothing. No commitments. No obligations. No expectations. After serving as a Reaper for so long, hunting down lawbreakers from the shady underbelly of society, a life of normalcy sounded like a dream.

The arkoudan shakes his head, a small disbelieving snort whistling from his nose. "I've known you for the better part of fifteen years, sugar plum. You've got a reckless attitude and a restless soul. What the hell are you gonna do with retirement?"

Smoke swirls in circles above our heads as I raise my glass. "Fuck if I know, Marco." I down the lukewarm liquor and flip the glass over on the bar, wincing at the aftertaste. As Marco finishes wiping down the counter I take one last drag from the cigarette, my fingers absently clasping the silver band dangling around my neck as I let out a smoky sigh. Fuck if I know.

-------------

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story so far, and I'd love to hear what you think.

Soulbound is told from two different POVs. It's my first attempt at writing in first person and I'm finding it very fun (and very daunting!). I try to give each character their own voice and hopefully you can tell the difference between the two, but as a helpful hint the chapters are titled according to which POV is being told.

Feedback is always appreciated and if you can, don't forget to hit that 'vote' button! It helps let us writers know that our work is being enjoyed! :)