Chapter 1: The Feedlot

*The Feedlot*

I woke to the sound of the morning bell clanging and reverberating off the stone walls of the storehouse. Shifting up onto my elbows, I dusted hay from my shoulders and watched as it fell back onto my makeshift bed. A few others around me began moving as well. They knew that sound meant they only had a few minutes to rush to breakfast or risk losing it entirely.

"Hurry up, Aspen!"

"I'll catch up," I shouted.

I sat there quietly, waiting and not moving a muscle as the others rushed to the door. Even if it meant getting toast or the scraps the others did not want to eat, it didn't matter to me. Alone time was far more precious.

Once the room had finally cleared, I stumbled to my feet. Dusting myself off, I rose to find a proper set of clothes. The walls were still shaking with the noise from the main hall, with all the shouting and rushing around. It reminded me a bit of puppies scrambling into their food bowl.

I figured I would wait until the noise died a bit before making my way downstairs.

Not wanting to attract attention, I treaded softly to not creak the old wooden floors as I made my way to one of the many dressers lining the walls. The room was massive and filled with beds, mats, and cots, stacked haphazardly wall-to-wall with a few worn-down dressers crammed in between.

Which one I chose did not matter since nothing belonged to anyone in this place...

Everything was shared. Clothes, shoes, beds, and meals. It was first come, first serve, and everything had been overused. My nose wrinkled from the smell of old sweat and dirt on the bedding. The others didn't seem to notice it anymore, but the stench was always there for me, and it was the worst in the morning. It took all I had not to gag as I rifled through the dirty drawers.

Fashion never mattered to me, so I was not too choosy. Just a shirt and some pants would do. Looking into the broken mirror over the dresser, I checked my clothes for holes.

I was only twenty-one years old, but I looked tired. My hazel eyes were heavy, with dark circles starting to form underneath. My skin was tanned from yard work. I had sunspots, and freckles sprinkled over the bridge of my nose and dusting the top of my shoulders. My hair was auburn and fell in waves a bit too long past my ears, getting into my eyes.

I was five-foot-nine and lean. Fit from hard work but still very thin, my clothes hung loosely, falling off my shoulders.

Finally, the noise out front began to settle. I pulled on an oversized pair of boots and headed down the hall.

I could not blame the others for running. I had an advantage. Having lived here my entire life, I knew all the tricks-where to stash my favorite clothes and snacks and the best time to sneak down for meals. Most of them were human and had no way to tell how much food was left, but I could smell it.

The scent of fresh sausage, eggs, stale toast, and milk is pungent. I could smell it all disappear as it was taken to each table and eaten. I could hear the dirty dishes clang as they hit the sinks.

Because I was a wolf shifter.

Now that the line had emptied, I walked up to the guard serving food.

"Morning, Mordecai," I said politely. "That boiled egg and toast for me, please."

Mordecai laughed, reaching into the cooler to grab one of the last two boiled eggs.

Mordecai was a young man. With tan skin and long brown hair tied back away from his face in two neat braids above his ears. He was a shifter like me and worked as a guard for the feedlot. That day he had been stuck on breakfast duty.

"Ya know, kid, most wolves would have been fightin' over the ham steak," said Mordecai, tossing me the second egg, "if you don't bulk up, you're gonna stay skinny."

I glanced down at the egg in my hand and sighed.

"I don't mind; I don't have much appetite, to begin with."

"You're gonna have to work one up if you're going to be a guard," said Mordecai, crossing his arms. "You don't wanna stay a runt forever and end up a blood-bag, do you?"

"Not really comforting, Mort," I mumbled.

How could I be hungry? My head had been buzzing all night. I had just come of age, and this week was to mark my placement test. I would either pass and go on to become a guard like Mordecai or end up becoming vampire food. Honestly, neither appealed to me, but I had no choice.

"Comforting or not, that's the law, Aspen," said Mordecai coolly. "You know damn well the vampire king hates shifters. Brad is sticking his neck out for us by even offering the job. He had to do a lot of favors to make it happen, and even now, it could get him into a lot of trouble if any of us slips up even once."

Oh sure, he's just the nicest guy, I thought, glancing at the dining hall behind me.

The feedlot was full of fresh blood. Humans and half-bloods alike had sold themselves in some way to become food for Vampires.

Brad would lure them in with an insane bribe and give them a few years before he came to collect. Something like an exuberant amount of money or a way into some job. Brad was known to be unethical, preying upon the weak and most desperate. Nearly all of them jumped at the first chance of the deal. But it was always more than they had bargained for when it came time to pay.

Here, in the feedlot, most of them seemed comfortable. But I knew the truth...

These people were going to be eaten.

I disagreed with the practice it was disgusting to me. I did not have the drive most shifters had to destroy or devour. Truthfully, I did not want to take any part in it.

But what other choice did I have?

With vampires, it was eat or be eaten. If I could become a guard, I would earn a place in their society and, after a few years, possibly even freedom.

"Kid," interrupted Mordecai, causing me to jump, "we've got the target for your test."

"Target?" I asked, my voice breaking. "No one had mentioned a target. I thought these tests were like an exam, not field work."

Mordecai snorted, shoved his hand in his pocket to fish out a picture, and shoved it into my hands.

"A target, yeah. You got a problem with that?" Mordecai sneered. "We need you to fetch this guy."

Already I could hear my heart throbbing in my ears. Despite all the time I had to prepare for my placement, I had not prepared for this. I looked down at my test.

It was a young man, appearing around the same age as me. He had high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and blonde hair hanging messily down his shoulders. He wore a white T-shirt, with his leather jacket tied off by the sleeves around his waist. It was dark, and he was sitting on a curb with his arms resting over his knees. He was pretending to shoot an obscene gesture at the camera with the cigarette he held between his first and middle fingers.

He beamed up at me through the photograph with a cheeky grin. He looked like trouble. But the thing that caught me the most was his eyes. A striking emerald green that seemed to almost glow in the dark. My head felt a bit fuzzy. I slid my thumb over his portrait, breaking his gaze from mine.

"I thought Brad handled the humans," I mumbled, the picture trembling in my shaking hands.

"Oh, this is another vampire," said Mort. "I'm guessin' he pissed Brad off. You don't think we always play clean, do you?"

"Yeah," I whispered, grimacing, "but if he's a vampire, isn't that breaking some kind of law? Who is he?"

"You wanna prove you're a wolf, right?" asked Mordecai, ignoring the question.

"Yeah," I grimaced.

"Then this is how you do it," said Mordecai, chuckling. "Don't freak out. I'll be there to give you a hand; I've been doing this my whole life."

"Besides," he continued, "just look at that scrappy little punk; this will be a piece of cake."

Although I was unsure, hearing Mordecai's confidence made me feel a bit better. I sighed and gave him a wary thumbs up.

***

I spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze.

Target. Vampire. Target. The words spun around in a dull buzz in my head, blocking out all other intelligent thoughts.

I finally sobered up when, out in the hall, I ran face-first into what felt like a solid brick wall. I glanced up timidly to see a tall, muscular man wearing a brown leather jacket and a cattleman hat. I froze, my eyes locked with the heterochromatic eyes of blue and brown that belonged to Brad Montgomery himself.

"Got somewhere to be, son?" asked Brad, cracking into a smirk. "Seems like you've got something on your mind."

I winced and quickly shuffled back, gawking like I had seen a ghost. Brad's grin fell.

"Forgetting something?" asked Brad coolly.

I heard myself yelp like I had been struck, and I quickly scrambled to kneel a respectful distance from the Master of the feedlot.

"Uhm... I'm so sorry, Master Montgomery...," I stammered, shaking my head. "I'm just distracted thinking about the test tonight. It won't happen again!"

"Oh," Brad chuckled, "and here I thought you'd gone and lost your whole mind. Already acting like you've earned your place." Brad knelt, tilting his head to look at me, and I quickly cast my eyes to the floor.

Brad was not known to tolerate what he considered 'disrespect.' He was a very wealthy vampire, and for a shifter like me, offending this man could mean a beating or worse...

The room went silent around me. All those who had been near hushed, and I could hear some of them holding their breath, trying not to draw attention to themselves as they passed by.

My heart dropped into my stomach, and cold blood rushed to my head. My wide eyes were locked into place, staring pointedly at a piece of mud caked to the tip of Brad's boot.

Seconds felt like minutes as Brad sat there in silence, leaning in to sniff the side of my throat. I could hear a low growl from his throat as he got closer, brushing hot breath against my neck. A soft whimper slipped through my lips, and I closed my eyes to brace myself for a painful bite.

"Well, since ya said it won't happen again, 'suppose I'll let this one slide," Brad chuckled, pulling away.

"Thank you," I said breathlessly. My voice pitched unnaturally. "T-Thank you, Master Montgomery..."

"What you gotta worry about, anyhow?" asked Brad, snickering. "Surely you aren't worried about picking up some punk kid. Or is that too much for you?"

"No, not at all, no sir..." I grimaced. "I was just uhm... p-plotting..."

God, who am I kidding? Brad could smell it all over me. But I wasn't foolish enough to say it out loud; I knew the moment I admitted that taking down a vampire was way over my league, I was toast. Delicious, buttery, vampire toast...

"Plotting!" Brad exclaimed, laughing as he slapped his hand hard down onto my shoulder to jerk me back onto my feet, leaving me stirring woozily.

"I like that," Brad continued. "Well, here's hoping you've finished 'cause it's time to go."