Escaping Their Pasts (Crescent Edge Pack Book 1) Read online

  Escaping Their Pasts

  Crescent Edge Pack, Book 1

  By L. N. Manning

  Copyright © 2018 by L.N. Manning

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

  Edited and Formatted by: Angie Martin

  Cover Design by: Amanda Walker

  Photography By: James Critchley Photography

  Model: Daniel Chiorean

  Consulting Agency: Pathways Talent Services

  This work of fiction contains adult situations that may not be suitable for children under eighteen years of age. Recommended for mature audiences only.

  Dedication

  Tammye, Fred, and Mandi, you are the best friends anybody could ever wish for. You have stood by my side for over twenty years. Through tears of pain, love, and happiness, you were always there. One of my fondest memories is attending the wedding of Mandi to her wonderful wife, Jody. No matter what, you all have been there for me. If ever I found my soul mate, I could only dream to be as happy as you four are. I love you guys, and I always will.

  Acknowledgments

  There are so many people I need to thank!

  First, Morticia Knight. Without you encouraging me to write a book, this would never have happened.

  Xarina Price, your unwavering support and encouragement mean so much to me. More than you know.

  Laure Lind, you pushed and prodded me. Told me when I was wrong and never pulled any punches. Encouraged me and set me straight when I needed it. Thank you, my friend.

  Amanda Ayon, Xanthe Anderson, and Aly Jones, you ladies gave me so much help, encouragement, and support that I can never repay. Even when I wanted to give up, you were there you help me through.

  Kathy Banks, you are so supportive and helpful. You give so much of yourself to everyone. Your kindness and caring are inspirational. I want to be you if I ever decide to grow up.

  LM Wilson, you put up with my questions. You are an amazing person. Author, mother, wife, and yet you still find time to help out others. You are a true artist! Thank you.

  Amanda Walker. Thank you so much. When I had an issue with my original cover, you jumped right in and helped out. You had the new one done so quickly and so wonderfully. Thank you, Amanda, for doing such an amazing job. You saved my sanity.

  To all the people in my author group, my Minions. You have all given me so much encouragement and love that this book is all the love, pictures, praise, and hope you have given me. I love you all!

  Table of 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

  Author’s Note

  Sneak Peek of Book 2

  Chapter 1

  Jonathan Waine swung the ax, and the chunk of wood split easily. The sound of cracking wood echoed in the silence surrounding his property. He had always enjoyed putting in good physical labor at his house. It made him feel like all was right with the world. Being an alpha wolf, it was in his nature to want order.

  He enjoyed working with his hands. Whether it be chopping wood for his fire, or remodeling his house, or sanding down the new cabinets he had finished making for his kitchen.

  At one hundred and thirty-eight years old, he didn’t have to work on the books, that was, but he did side work to fill his time and quiet his mind. Jonathan was an expert woodworker, making beds, dressers, cabinets, and almost anything the client wanted. He had three orders for cabinets and an order for a china hutch to fill, but right now, he was finishing his own project.

  Swack. With every swing of the ax, peace settled over Jonathan. He enjoyed his solitude. No one to look after, no one underfoot, only himself. Just the way he liked it.

  Jonathan bent down and gathered the logs he had chopped, stacking them up against the side of his house. A cool breeze started to blow, rustling the leaves on the ground. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed. That felt amazing. He had discarded his shirt earlier, but now he was sweaty, covered in sawdust and flecks of wood. His jeans were full of dirt, dust, and sweat. But, man alive, did that breeze feel good.

  As he moved back toward the pile of wood he still needed to chop, Jonathan looked across his land. The birds were chirping in the distance, and the branches of the trees swayed in the light wind. Sighing with contentment, he got back to work.

  It had been a long day of work, but it had been very productive. So far, he had fixed the leak in the roof of the shop behind his house where he built his wooden creations, rehung his porch swing, and chopped down the tree that threatened to fall on his house after the last thunderstorm, but at least the tree gave him plenty of firewood.

  He rolled his shoulders, then his neck. I think I’ll hit the bar tonight, Jonathan thought. He had whiskey and beer in the house, but that wasn’t the reason he was thinking about going. Oh yeah, I need a drink. But, this tree won’t chop itself, he thought as he set the next chunk of wood on the block.

  Several hours later, Jonathan pulled his bandanna out of his back pocket and wiped his face. The sun had begun to set. It was Jonathan’s favorite time of the day. The time when he was free to let loose and forget his troubles, to forget the past, only to be reborn the next morning.

  Setting the ax in the shop, Jonathan dusted off his hands. On the way toward the house, he picked up his shirt, which had been thrown over the porch railing.

  He stepped up on the porch and finished stripping down. He had no neighbors; his house was a good five hundred feet back from the road with trees blocking the view of his home. He wasn’t shy about nudity; shifters were always having to get naked in front of each other. It was a fact of life for shifters. He just didn’t want to track dirt and dust through his home.

  He climbed the stairs and entered his master suite. When he bought the house and the five hundred acres of land it sat on, the house was a wreck, with tiny, closed-in rooms and only one-and-a-half baths. So, he remodeled it to his liking, tearing down walls and opening the floor plan. Remodeling the bathrooms, too, because that was one facility Jonathan refused to skimp on.

  The downstairs now had an open floor plan for the kitchen, living room, dining room, as well as two fair-sized guest rooms and a full bath. The upstairs was comprised of his master suite and three spare guestrooms, all with their own en suite baths.

  Moving through his suite, Jonathan dropped his d
irty clothes in the hamper and walked into the master bath, turning on the shower. A nice, long hot shower was in order. He stepped into the large cubicle he had made sure had the perfect shower heads, six in all, at different angles. He stood there under the cascades and let the water do its work.

  Unfortunately, that was when his mind started to wander. Jonathan, a big strong alpha wolf, next in line for pack Alpha, was now a lone wolf. His father was the current Alpha of his home pack. A bastard of a father and a cruel pack leader who would hand over the reins of the pack to Jonathan as soon as he mated the female the man had chosen for him. Jonathan could have saved not only himself, but also his pack, from such rank bastard. But, no. He had to open his mouth and tell his father he would not mate the woman who had been picked out, just to combine the families to gain power and money. He would only be with his fated mate, and his fated mate would be a man. He would not be used as a pawn in his father’s power grab schemes.

  Fated mates were so rare and so special that shifters would pine away for their mate and also die if their fated mate passed away. Jonathan didn’t want a loveless match that would make him and the other person miserable. Even if he ever did fall in love, which he doubted, he would never mate unless he found his fated mate. But, Jonathan wouldn’t hold his breath.

  As the water flowed over his head, down his shoulders, and soothed his sore muscles, he could still see the look in his father’s eyes all those years ago. George Waine was a big man, he was the same height as Jonathan, six-foot-four, but he was going soft in some places. Unlike Jonathan who was two hundred and twenty-five pounds of solid muscle. George had indulged in too much food and not enough time in his fur.

  George had a cruel streak a mile wide, and Jonathan had known he would take brunt, full force when his father flew out of his chair and wrapped his hands around Jonathan’s throat, lifting him off his feet. “You fucking worthless piece of shit! You will do as I tell you and marry that bitch, or I will rip your throat out right now! No son of mine is a faggot!” George had emphasized his words by slamming Jonathan against the wall.

  Shaking his head to clear his thoughts because he didn’t want to think on that right now, Jonathan realized the water was cooling. He finished washing, giving his cock and balls a little extra attention, and shut off the water. He stepped out of the shower stall and shook himself off for a second before reaching for a towel in the towel warmer, another must have in his home, and drying off.

  Opening his closet, he grabbed his favorite pair of worn jeans which hugged his ass nicely, but not too tight, and a light-blue button-down shirt that matched his eyes. He dressed quickly, finishing his look off with a pair of motorcycle boots.

  Jonathan picked up his comb off the dresser and started to untangle his hair. It took a few minutes; his hair was down to the middle of his shoulder blades. Maybe I should cut it and save myself this damn hassle, he thought.

  Jonathan took one last look in the mirror. You’ll do, he thought with a chuckle. Heading to the front door, he grabbed his keys and stepped out.

  Straddling his bike, he gave the starter arm a kick, loving the deep, throaty sound and the vibration on his balls. Opening the throttle, he let the sound carry him to the bar where, hopefully, he could find himself a willing mouth to sink into.

  Chapter 2

  Ten hours. Ten very long hours on my feet. I am so tired of serving drinks to these assholes who think since they bought a drink, they can grab my ass. Thank the gods the doors are locked, was all Ethan could think.

  Ethan Gregory was tired of it all. Tired of running. Tired of working in dive bars like this. Tired of not having a pack anymore. Shaking his head, he sighed and got back to cleaning up. All he wanted to do was go home and crash on his bed for a year or two.

  Taking one final look around, he called out to his boss. “Hey, Tom, I’m done for the night.”

  From the back office he heard, “All right kid. See you tomorrow night.”

  Ethan let himself out the side door and started walking to his shitty apartment.

  He hated the walk. He only lived three blocks away from the bar, but it wasn’t a nice three blocks. Not a safe three blocks, either. He learned a long time ago, Keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself, and always keep moving.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

  Ethan stiffened at the sound of a voice behind him. He was only a block away from the bar, and he hadn’t heard anyone walk up behind him. He took a quick sniff, human, three humans. He turned around slowly, not wanting to provoke them.

  “Are you talking to me?” When he saw the looks on the men behind him, he knew he was in trouble.

  “You one of them faggots? You look like one,” the largest of the three men said, curling his lip up with unconcealed disgust.

  Plucking up as much courage as he could muster, Ethan said, “Even if I was, it would be none of your concern. I’m just heading home from work. Good night, gentlemen.”

  He started to turn back around when one man grabbed him. He was able to break free by twisting his arm around and pushing the man to the side so he could run. He only got a couple of steps before the other two guys grabbed him by the arms and slammed him into the brick wall on the side of the building he had been passing.

  The leader of the three was a good six inches taller than Ethan, with a beer gut and the most disgusting bad breath. The man leaned in close to Ethan, almost making him gag with his breath, and said, “You will pay for that, you filthy faggot!” He punched Ethan hard in the stomach, leaving him doubled over and gasping for air. The man’s two friends each grabbed an arm, hauling him back up and holding him against the wall so their leader could dole out more of his punishment.

  The two men holding him were the most disgusting Ethan had ever had the misfortune to meet. The one holding his right arm had a severely protruding overbite. The other on his left had the vilest body odor coming from him. Gods, do these guys ever take a bath? Both men were laughing at Ethan as their leader was pummeling him.

  The leader grabbed Ethan’s chin, forcing him to look up at the man. “When I get done with you, I am gonna find out what the big deal about you faggots is. So, you’re gonna swallow all of us!” he sneered.

  Ethan was trying to free himself, even using his shifter strength, but he was still trying to catch his breath from the gut shot. A punch to his jaw snapped his head back, making him see stars. He was starting to doubt he would survive this attack.

  A deep rumble sounded through the quiet night. A motorcycle pulled to a stop in front of the building, and a massive man stepped off. Planting his hands on his hips, the man said in the sexiest voice Ethan had ever heard, “Now boys, that isn’t very nice.”

  The one throwing the punches turned to the newcomer. “This ain’t none of your business. Get back on your bike and go, or you will be on the ground next to him!”

  The man scratched the side of his head while he chuckled, then said, “Well, you see, boys, that’s where you’re wrong.” The last word was more a growl than a word, making Ethan shiver.

  Ethan was released and fell to the ground, still trying to get air back in his body as all three men turned to confront the noisy outsider. When he could finally breathe, he looked up at the fighting. It was beautiful in its brutality. The stranger was amazing. He had skill, grace, and he was gorgeous! He was easily the most stunning man Ethan had ever laid eyes on.

  That was the last thing he thought before a scent wafted across his nose. Jasmine with hints of spearmint. An amazing and tantalizing scent that made Ethan’s cock straighten so fast, he became dizzy, again. MATE!

  Ethan gasped. No, no, no, no this can’t be happening! This man is my mate. Oh, my gods. Struggling to his feet, Ethan shook his head, taking one last look at the man fighting for him. He burned the man’s image into his brain and then ran.

  Jonathan was in his element. He hated bullies, and he loved a good fight. The three fools did not understand what they were get
ting into. The leader swung at his face, but Jonathan easily deflected the blow and used the man’s own momentum to drop him on his ass.

  The other two humans rushed him. The one who reeked of body odor landed a blow to his arm. Jonathan grabbed him by the throat, holding him to the side. He really didn’t want the bully’s smell on him. The man’s face had started to turn red, and he was clawing at Jonathan’s hand.

  The second one thought he had an opening until Jonathan used the man he had by the throat as a shield, knocking him back. The idiots acted all tough when it was three to one against a little man, but when they were against a big guy, they couldn’t figure out their elbows from their assholes, Jonathan thought as he toyed with the men.

  Picking the now almost-limp man up, Jonathan dropped him on top of his buddy, who was still on his ass on the sidewalk. “Come on, boys, I thought you said I would be lying on the ground. I was expecting more of a challenge. There are three of you.”

  Turning to the first man, who was already back on his feet, Jonathan squared off with him for just a second before a scent hit him, hit him hard. Inhaling deeply, he smelled vanilla with a touch of citrus. A growl started deep in his chest, mean and menacing. The guy charged Jonathan, but he was over it. Jonathan had tolerated enough. Grabbing the man by the throat, just like he had done to the other man, he shoved him into the wall and held him there.

  MATE! his wolf growled.

  The man the assholes were beating up was his mate. Jonathan had never had to fight so hard to keep his wolf in check. His wolf didn’t care about human laws or morality. The only thing it understood right now was that these men were beating up his mate. That warranted the deaths of the pathetic humans. Simple. But, Jonathan was more than just a wolf. He wouldn’t kill them, but his humanity also didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt them.