Kingdom Of Claws: Book 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A Warm Body Suitable For Rubbing Up Against.

“Reading captivates me because it creates a portal to a new world. The act of getting lost in a story provides an escape from everyday life. It helps me uncover more of what my own life has to offer. It also gives me a way to forget my own issues and insecurities… which, let’s be honest, are many and varied.” ~Lola

“Is the werewolf dude ravishing the damsel in distress yet?” Lola looked up from her book to see Katy strolling into her room, without bothering to knock, as usual. “Or maybe they don’t have time for the ravishing because the leading lady is too busy saving the world. And for some reason, this chick can kick the ass of even the strongest supernatural being, though nobody knows why. And the male lead is really only allowed to be her sidekick because he’s eye candy, and provides her with a warm body to rub up against?”

Lola sighed and dropped her current, literary fix into her lap. The cover landed face up. She quickly flipped it over when she noticed the picture on the front: a shirtless dude holding a hot chick. The woman must have been acting as his jacket based on how tightly she was wrapped around him. Good grief, couldn’t they just put a flipping wolf on the cover instead? Such a scene would only spur Katy on in her need to tease Lola over her love of the supernatural– paranormal-romances, to be exact.

“Why are you here?” Lola asked.

Katy flopped onto her bed with an exaggerated sigh. Please, make yourself at home. Lola was prone to the somewhat troublesome habit of speaking to herself, and frequently, her face gave away her inner thoughts. This sometimes made for an uncomfortable, and slightly awkward, scenario. “We have to be at work in an hour.” As she spoke, Katy rolled her striking, nearly translucent, gray eyes and casually brushed a hand through her naturally-wavy, mahogany hair. That I’m totally not jealous of. But if I was, I would never admit it. Lola’s own hair was neck-length and orange spattered through with streaks of blonde highlights. It drew attention to her, but it was her skin that captured more attention. Just not the kind a girl wants. Her skin was a two-tone tapestry of peach and paler pigmentation, courtesy of her vitiligo. “You were so absorbed with Talon Hunter that you’ve completely lost track of time,” Katy chided.

Lola’s brow rose. “Who in the world is Talon Hunter?”

Her friend rolled to her back and pulled her legs up, resting her feet on the bed. “No doubt some hunky werewolf, fairy, or vampire in your book.” She pointed to the book in question without bothering to look away from the spot she stared at on the ceiling.

Why can’t I like horror books or rom-coms? “His name is not Talon Hunter.” Lola slapped the book down onto her desk.

“Maybe not, but it is some ridiculously masculine name that makes girls want to swoon. Or so the author thinks, am I right?” Katy turned her head and grinned at Lola. “Tell me I’m wrong.” Her voice took on an almost musical quality.

Lola did not want to admit to her bratty BFF that she was right. Even if she was. “I need to take a quick shower.” Lola stood, ignoring Katy’s taunting. “You stay out of the bathroom and don’t touch my things.”

Katy gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. “I can’t believe you would assume I would violate your privacy in such a way.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “You would, and you have.” She grabbed clothes from her dresser and headed for the bathroom. Without turning around, she said, “I’m serious, Katy. I will cut you if you touch my stuff.”

“You realize you have anger issues, right? And you’re the curious one of our trio. Maddie and I totally mind our own business.”

Lola scoffed. “Mind your own business? You have no boundaries. You seem to think our business is your business.”

“That’s because it is, Heifer. BFF Contract, page 215, Amendment 15 (g).” Katy’s voice sounded so serious that a stranger would probably believe there actually was a BFF Contract. There wasn’t. At least, not that Lola knew of. Then again, it wouldn’t be out of character for Katy to draft some official-looking document and insist that Lola and Maddie comply with its fanciful regulations, or face her fury.

I love my best friend. I love my best friend. Lola silently chanted as she shut the door and turned the lock. Katy was known to simply walk in, sit on the counter and start chit-chatting while she showered. “No boundaries,” she muttered. Lola might be the curious one of them, but Katy was the nosy one. And there was a difference.

Lola walked out of the bathroom dressed with her hair pulled up. She sported a light dusting of make-up on her face. She’d given up trying to cover the marbled skin once it moved down her neck and arms. Katy was still laying on her bed, but her friend was no longer simply staring at the ceiling. Instead, she had her nose in Lola’s book. I can’t kill my best friend. It’s not appropriate and is usually frowned upon by social media sites that do those crime documentaries. Not always frowned upon, but usually.

“I knew it!” Katy tossed the book aside, threw a fist in the air, and whooped like an i***t. “Xander Felix, otherwise known as Zan to his pack.” Katy snickered as she stood up. “I’ll admit, it’s a sexy name. It definitely has a better ring to it than something like… Bill when the damsel-s***h-badass chick moans it in the throes of passion. ‘Oh Bill, give me more,’” she said in a high, breathy voice. “Nope, no ring. But Xander? That’s the name of a beast that makes you scream. Paronomasia intended.”

“I hate you,” Lola said dryly. “And your love of ridiculously obscure words.”

Katy laughed, wrapping an arm around Lola’s neck. “No, you don’t. And you love my Words of the Day because you get to look them up, feeding your Curiosity Monster.”

Okay, so maybe I do love the Word of the Day. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hate her at the same time. I’m great at multitasking.

“Come on, my curious little cat,” Katy pulled her through her bedroom door. “Let’s go sell some pizza and get hit on by firefighters and construction workers. Maybe one of them will have a dark and mysterious name that you can moan in your dreams tonight. If we meet a Xander today, he’s getting your number immediately.”

Lola tried to shove Katy away, but the woman held on tighter than a leech while she laughed. “One day, I’m going to maim you. And no one will blame me,” Lola said through gritted teeth.

“As long as I can moan a different name while you maim me. Maybe I’ll call you Kitty instead of Lola while you touch me. No offense, BFF, but Lola is just not sexy. Your last name, though. That kicks ass.”

Lola pinched the skin on Katy’s side. “My last name is Katz, not Kitty, Butthead.” Maybe I can put an ad out for a new best friend? That wouldn’t be weird at all. SWF seeks another single female for best friendship. No strange s*x stuff, please. Okay, so it’s totally weird.

Katy sighed. “Yeah, your parents missed the boat on that one. Kitty Katz would have been a much cooler name for you.”

Lola swiveled her head to glare at Katy as they headed for the front door. She didn’t need to tell her parents she was leaving because they’d both already left for their own jobs. “That sounds like a porn star's name.”

“Right!” Katy finally dropped her arm when Lola turned to lock the apartment door. “You’d be mind-blowing as a porn star, in more ways than one, considering everything you learn from your fictitious boy-toys like Xander the wolf lover. Has he taught you how to make a wolf howl in ecstasy, scratch his itch, pet his pelt⁠—”

“That’s it. You brought this on yourself.” Lola turned to face Katy, stopping her friend in her tracks. She reached out, grabbed her n****e, and twisted as hard as she could. It’s also not weird that I’m touching my best friend’s n****e. Lie. It was absolutely weird. But desperate measures and all that jazz.

Katy slapped at Lola and then shoved her away as she screeched like a banshee. “Dammit, you little twerp. We agreed boob torture was off the table!” She finally pushed hard enough that Lola stumbled back, releasing her grip.

“If I recall correctly, there was a clause allowing for boob torture in case of extenuating circumstances.” Lola turned on her heel and continued walking. “And you’re the one who wrote the clause. If the offending BFF doesn’t stop torturing the defending BFF, all bodily harm is fair play.” She’s lucky I didn’t have a knife. I kind of think I would have used it. Thankfully, n****e-twisting is much less bloody, and there’s pretty much no chance of causing death. I seriously need to stop talking to myself. It’s becoming disturbing.

“I was talking about real torture, you short-as-s**t, Pixie Slut.”

Lola waved her off. “You’re an inch taller than me, so that’s not really an insult.”

She noticed Katy rubbing her chest out of the corner of her eye and smirked. Lola knew all the abuse they dished out to one another was done out of love… mostly. If Katy didn’t tease you, then she didn’t like you. She was kind of like Lola’s cat, named Dog– yes, that was really his name. If he didn’t bite you just for the heck of it, he had no cares to give about you. The harder the bite, the more he liked you. The same could be said for Katy, both literally and figuratively. And just like she had to knock Dog off the bed every once in a while when he bit too hard, she also had to pinch Katy’s n****e occasionally when her friend teased too much. “Your boob going to be okay?”

Katy huffed. “I’ll let you know in a decade when I have a kid and try to boob-feed it.”

“I think it’s called breastfeed, genius.” Although boob-feed could catch on. It had a hipster sound to it.

“Tomato, potato,” Katy said dryly. Then she added, “I’m sorry I teased you about your book boy-toys. It’s just so easy. And fun. You know I’m going to get you back when you least expect it. With girls like those,” she motioned to Lola’s chest, “you’re an easy target. But for now, I’ll call a truce.”

“Truce accepted.” See? I was right. We do love each other. “Until you decide to retaliate. Then all bets are off. And you might want to start wearing padded bras.” But that love definitely has conditions.

No Name Pizzeria, or NNP for short, was only four blocks from Lola’s apartment. Their boss, Sal, had once told Lola he’d decided to name the place No Name Pizzeria because he wanted his pizza to be so good his place didn’t even need a name. Apparently, he’d succeeded because the place stayed packed, becoming one of those hole-in-the wall restaurants tourists went out of their way to visit.

The four-block walk went by quickly with Katy at her side, pointing at people and voicing what she decided they were thinking as they walked passed. She said things like ‘Oh, look at me with my fancy briefcase,’ when pointing at a well-dressed man in a suit, or ‘Oh, no, I think I left the oven on,’ after pointing out a stressed-out soccer mom. Lola reminded her that pointing at people on the streets of New York City was like waving a red flag at a bull. Some psycho would make you their target simply because you brought attention to yourself. Rule one of Big Apple Etiquette: Keep your head down and walk fast. Only tourists looked around, meandering and pointing, making them easy pickings for the less than savory patrons of the city.

Lola pulled the door open to NNP and the smell of warm dough, spices, and tomato sauce, assaulted her senses. It was as familiar to her as the scent of her own home. In the three years she’d been working at NNP, she loved the smell, but her taste buds were long ago pizza’d out.

As she and Katy zig-zagged through the checkered tables, familiar faces nodded and hands waved at them. A few patrons even called out greetings. For those twenty seconds it took to get to the EmployeeOnly door, Lola felt seen in a way that was not brought on by her skin disorder. Living in a city the size of NYC had a way of making a person feel invisible and insignificant. But living in NYC with a disorder as obvious as vitiligo made her feel like a zoo exhibit. Even with her two best friends, loving parents, and the people she worked with daily, taking up space in her heart, Lola still felt like something was missing. I need to get past that feeling. I’m just wasting away my life waiting for something to happen. But the idea of giving up on that something made her feel bereft of the thing she somehow knew was essential to her life.

“You’re both late,” Maddie called out from behind the counter. “And fired.”

“You can’t fire us, you closet freak,” Katy hollered back. She was unconcerned about who heard her. “We have seniority.”

Maddie shook her head as she took a few bills from the customer across from her. “Working here a week longer than me does not mean you have seniority.”

“I’m with her.” Lola gestured at Katy. “We’re practically management. You’re a lowly, serving wench.”

“You’re all three lowly, serving wenches. Now, don’t start on each other today, or so help me, I’ll pull whatever hair I have left out of my head.” Sal barked at them through the order window. “I can’t handle it today. I really can’t.”

Lola gestured at Katy and Maddie. “I didn’t even start it.”

“Guilty by association.” He shrugged. “I told you to get new friends, Little One. These two will corrupt your pure heart.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “I work with them every day and they follow me home like stray cats. It’s kind of hard to get rid of them.” And I sort of like them. Most days.

“I keep telling you to run away with Antonio.” Sal’s brow bounced up and down suggestively. “He could take you to Italy.”

Hell to the no. Lola mentally shook her head.

Katy pushed Lola toward the employee door. “I wouldn’t let your man-w***e of a son, no matter how hot he is, near my little one with a fifty-foot pole, Sal. And if you’re so protective of Lola, then you wouldn’t either.”

Regardless of his words, Lola knew Sal adored all three of them, which is why he tolerated Katy’s insubordination. That and she was a hard worker, which was hard to come by nowadays, even if she did get mouthy with Sal and the occasional customer.

“Some women are for fun,” Sal said. “And some women are for forever. Little One is the latter.”

Lola pretended not to hear what her boss had said and hurried into the back room where their lockers were located. She shoved her backpack into the space and then tied her sauce-stained apron around her waist. Sal had been trying to fix her and Antonio up ever since she’d turned nineteen. And as Katy said, Sal’s son was indeed good looking. But the problem was, he knew it. The ladies liked him, and he liked the ladies. Not to mention he was twenty-eight. That just seemed like a bit too big of an age gap. The whole thing would have been harmless, except Antonio didn’t dismiss the idea as easily as she had.

At first, she’d been flattered because most guys were put off by her skin. Lola noticed that older men weren’t as focused on what made her different. If anything, it made them more intrigued. She only wished guys her own age felt the same. And if Antonio’s relentless flirting was any indication, he was completely on board with his father’s idea. If his flirting wasn’t bad enough, anytime a male customer acted a tad bit interested in her, Antonio would appear out of nowhere, to lay some sort of claim on her. It was irritating, but Lola usually just laughed it off. She certainly didn’t encourage or reciprocate it. Antonio, however, wasn’t dissuaded. Apparently, Italian men were quite relentless when they’d set their sights on someone they considered a ‘forever’ kind of woman.

“I swear if I didn’t love Sal like a dad, I’d slit his throat with a pizza slicer.” Katy huffed as she tied her own apron on, her motions jerky and rough. “He just won’t give up with the Antonio thing, not to mention, if you haven’t noticed, said Italian Romeo has been showing up here every day you work. He’s getting ballsy.”

“That word is beneath you, Katy.” Lola pursed her lips. “Do better.”

Katy laughed, which is what Lola intended. “You’re right, that was completely subpar for my intelligence. How about he’s getting indomitable, or valorous?”

Lola pushed through the door back into the dining area. “That’s more like it. Live up to your full vocabulary potential, Katy Dire. Just because you live in the poor part of the city and work at a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint, doesn’t mean you have to behave like an uneducated street rat.”

“Wow, that’s cold, Lo.” Maddie handed her a tray bearing five glasses of water. “Table eight.”

“I’ve had an irritating morning.” She glanced over her shoulder at Katy. “I’m feeling a tad supercilious.”

“Nope,” Katy said, raising her voice as Lola walked off. “Fancy words are my thing. You can’t steal them.”

“Tell that to your n*****s,” Lola said. She hadn’t realized just how close she’d been to the table of customers waiting on its drinks until she heard several men burst out laughing. Lola looked down and saw five, very, attractive guys staring up at her. She tried to keep her face from turning red, but knew she failed. Hot, not attractive. And I mean hot with a capital, ‘Can I Have Your Babies, Please?’ Another note to self, maybe slow down on the number of supernatural-romance books I read.