His Mate, His Kill

Kavira POV

“She’s back!” Maelira’s voice rang out from inside the cabin, and I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath as I stepped through the door of our cozy little hideaway in the woods.

Once upon a time, we were the self-proclaimed three troublemakers, but as we grew older, the name faded, and we became something closer to sisters. Real, unbreakable bonds forged through chaos, survival, and choice.

I’m Kavira. Five-foot-seven, deep green-blue eyes, long waves of dark brown hair that cascade to my waist, and a slim, toned build hardened by years of independence. My brother is the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, but I’ve never taken to pack life not after the way we grew up. I carved out something different for myself. A life on my own terms with two incredible women by my side. My brother respects that, and we still co-own a successful jewelry business.

Maelira is the fire in our trio. She stands at 5'5", her porcelain skin kissed with freckles, light red curls tumbling around her mischievous golden eyes. She’s all sass and flirtation, never one to back away from a challenge. The kind of woman who’d hustle a group of men at pool, take every dollar, and wink as she walked away. Behind the charm, though, is a survivor. Orphaned young, she’s been looking out for herself since she could walk. I met her when she tried to pickpocket my brother. I caught her in the act, took the blame, and he let her live. We were both sixteen, and that moment sealed us together. We still laugh about it now.

Zivenya is our steady calm. The girl-next-door, with Indian heritage and a graceful strength about her. Long black hair with a gentle wave, brown skin, 5'7" like me, with a soft, lean frame. She prefers jeans and a good shirt over anything fancy. Her family had traveled from India to the U.S. for our jewelry business. But a car accident took them from her. She happened to be at our house when it happened. With no other relatives, she stayed. I was seventeen, she was sixteen. Maelira and I brought her in, claimed her as our own.

My brother gave both girls honorary pack status so they wouldn’t carry the scent of rogues. But we weren’t like other wolves. Over the years, we developed a unique skill set some would call it criminal; we call it necessary. Maelira taught us to pickpocket. We taught her how to use that talent for more noble causes.

Our first real job? A Luna in South Dakota bought a stunning blue diamond earring set from our store. I had to deliver it personally. Not long after, someone nearly killed her and stole the earrings. We tracked them down and got them back. She lived. And her Alpha was grateful. Word got out.

Now, people come to us when something needs to be found. We don’t steal for greed we recover what should never have been taken. The wolf version of Robin Hood, I suppose. Not for the needy, but for the rightful.

The three of us can adapt, seduce, infiltrate, and vanish without a trace. We move constantly for “work,” but this little mountain cottage in Montana is our safe haven. Hidden deep in a valley, it’s camouflaged to look like the surrounding woods nothing but shrubs and trees from above. Only when you’re standing right in front of it do you realize it’s a home. A porch swing, a quiet sitting nook, peace. No one finds us here. Nothing can touch us.

Men? They’re rarely more than a means to an end. Occasional fun. A way to blow off steam. None of us have been interested in mates for years. That fantasy of a destined bond, of being swept into a castle and pampered it faded with age. We’re in our late twenties now. We trust each other, and that’s enough.

That afternoon, I was on the porch swing, watching birds dart through the trees and squirrels chase each other across branches. This was my favorite place serene, safe, still. My phone buzzed, snapping me from my daze. Unknown number. I answered anyway. You never know who might be calling.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Lazara?”

“Who’s asking?” I replied cautiously.

A low chuckle followed. “I need your services. Word is, you’re the one to call when something... needs finding.”

“Oh?”

“Apologies. Alpha Cyran gave me your contact.”

That caught my attention. Alpha Cyran was the one we helped in South Dakota.

“He told me to say... lady bird. Whatever that means.”

A flicker of tension released. That was our code phrase. Legit.

“What do you need?”

“I’d prefer to discuss it in person. There’s a new restaurant Green Olive. Meet me at 8 p.m. in the VIP section.”

I checked the time. 3 p.m. Plenty of time to get ready.

“And who am I meeting?”

“My name is Boaz Callahan,” he said, and the line went dead.

Boaz Callahan? As in Vice President Boaz Callahan?

“Holy shit.” I jumped off the swing and ran inside. “GIRLS!”

Maelira and Zivenya were at the kitchen table, munching on cookies. I snatched one and took a bite chocolate chip, still warm.

“Are you gonna tell us, or just moan over that cookie?” Maelira teased.

I gave her the finger, then finished my bite. “Boaz Callahan called me.”

Zivenya blinked. “The Boaz Callahan? Vice President Boaz Callahan?”

“Pretty sure. I’m meeting him at that new upscale place. I need a dress. Fancy one.”

“Oooh, what about the blue?” Maelira suggested.

“No, red. Her tits look amazing in red,” Zivenya countered.

“She already has enough tits!” Maelira shot back.

I left them to bicker while I showered. Afterward, I braided my hair to the side and went for a simple makeup look just enough to highlight my features. The girls held up a shimmering red gown. One shoulder, floor-length, slit up the thigh. Hugged every curve while keeping my cleavage respectable.

I slipped into it, grabbed my red-bottom heels, and headed out.

“Be careful!” Zivenya called.

“Let us know if you need backup!” Maelira added.

“Don’t wait up!” I said with a wink, making my way to the four-wheeler. We kept our cars in a hidden garage ten miles away. Once there, I switched to my 2021 Jaguar F-Type black on black. Sleek. Deadly. She purred to life, and I headed out.

I considered dropping the top, but I didn’t want to wreck my hair. Maybe on the way back.

By the time I pulled up to the Green Olive, the place was alive packed for its grand opening, twinkling with Vintage-style lighting strung across glass walls, elegant yet mysterious. The valet helped me out, and I walked inside without a coat. One perk of being a werewolf I never get cold.

As I waited for the hostess, I scanned the room. It was stunning. My eyes locked on a man across the space a walking sin. Tall, dangerous, magnetic. He was deep in conversation with the mayor, but my body moved on instinct, like gravity was pulling me toward him.

I barely took a step before someone bumped me, snapping me out of it.

“Good evening. Name, miss?” the hostess asked.

“Lazara Hollis,” I said, using my usual alias for client work.

She smiled. “Right this way.”

Up the stairs, to a private room with a single table. As I entered, my heart tugged toward the man downstairs. The farther I got, the harder it was to breathe.

Inside, Boaz Callahan stood. Older, mid-sixties, Asian descent, dignified with graying hair. He extended his hand.

“Miss Lazara. I know your real name, of course. In public, I’ll respect your alias.”

“In private, you can call me Kavira,” I said, letting him guide me into my seat.

“You’re a wolf,” I stated. I could smell it now.

He chuckled. “Yes. Please, call me Boaz. Few people know, and I prefer to keep it that way. I work closely with companies supporting our kind preserving the forests, protecting our rights. I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

I picked up my wine. “I’m not picky.”

Dinner arrived chicken alfredo with garlic bread, a side of shrimp, and steak for him. The food? Incredible.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked shrimp, so I ordered them just in case.”

“Thanks,” I said, adding them to my pasta.

He leaned in slightly. “Time is short, so I’ll be blunt. This is sensitive. No proof, no suspects. It blurs the line between human laws and pack justice. I need you to retrieve something and return it to the Museum of National Treasure.”

I stared at him, studying his expression. No lies.

“I’ll send the details via secure email. This is top priority. Only your girls can know no one else.”

“Understood.” I wrote my secure email on a napkin and passed it to him. “Burn that once it’s sent. Then delete the message. We don’t take chances.”

Boaz nodded. “Of course, Miss Lazara.”

He kissed the back of my hand and left.

I downed the rest of my wine and made my way out. But I wasn’t done. I needed to find that man I saw earlier. I wandered until I found an office candles, romantic setup. He had a mate, maybe. That shouldn’t have stung.

But it did.

Maybe I was jealous. Maybe I just wanted to ride that man until he forgot his own name.

“May I ask what you’re doing, ma’am?” came a voice behind me.

Shit.