The Immortal Warriors Boxed Set: Books 1-11 Read online

  IMMORTAL WARRIORS: BOOKS 1-11

  1. WEREWOLF LOVE STORY

  2. THE RISE OF KYRO

  3. LOVING MAYA

  4. WEREWOLF WITHOUT A CAUSE

  5. ANGEL LOVE STORY

  6. WEREWOLF LOST

  7. VAMPIRE LOVE STORY

  8. THE WEREWOLF WHISPERER

  9. FOREVER AND ALWAYS

  10. VAMPIRES VS. WEREWOLVES

  11. ONE LOVE

  by

  H.T. NIGHT

  Other Books by H.T. Night

  IMMORTAL WARRIORS

  Book 1: Werewolf Love Story

  Book 2: The Rise of Kyro

  Book 3: Loving Maya

  Book 4: Werewolf Without a Cause

  Book 5: Angel Love Story

  Book 6: Werewolf Lost

  Book 7: Vampire Love Story

  Book 8: The Werewolf Whisperer

  Book 9: Forever and Always

  Book 10: Vampires vs. Werewolves

  Book 11: One Love

  Book 12: Hero Rising

  Book 13: Vampire Reign

  Book 14: Vampire Iscariot

  Book 15: Vampire Castle

  Book 16: Divine Blood

  Book 17: Sons of Josiah

  Book 18: Love Conquers All

  HEART OF A WITCH SERIES

  Book 1: Witch to Choose

  Book 2: A Witch’s Magic

  Book 3: Witch Love Story

  Book 4: Witch World

  LOVE STORIES

  Book 1: The Fourth Sunrise

  Book 2: Romeo & Juliet: A Vampire and Werewolf Love Story

  Book 3: In the Name of Love

  Book 4: Getting Yours

  DIARY OF A BOY GENIUS

  Book 1: Nerd Power

  Book 2: Nerd Games

  Book 3: Nerd Love

  VAMPIRE NATION SERIES

  Book 1: Vampire Nation

  Book 2: Enemy of the Nation

  DEADLY DREAMS SERIES

  Book 1: Controlled Chaos

  Book 2: Massacred Revealed

  ANTHONY MOON SERIES

  Book 1: The Fire Warrior

  CHRONICLES OF THE AMERICAN VAMPIRE

  Book 1: Fang

  MOONLIGHTING SERIES

  Book 1: I, Samantha Moon

  WITH SCOTT NICHOLSON AND J.R. RAIN

  Bad Blood: A Vampire Thriller

  POETRY

  Everlasting Love: Poems

  Immortal Warriors: Books 1-11

  Published by H.T. Night

  Copyright © 2018 by H.T. Night

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Book 1: Werewolf Love Story

  Book 2: The Rise of Kyro

  Book 3: Loving Maya

  Book 4: Werewolf Without a Cause

  Book 5: Angel Love Story

  Book 6: Werewolf Lost

  Book 7: Vampire Love Story

  Book 8: The Werewolf Whisperer

  Book 9: Forever and Always

  Book 10: Vampires vs. Werewolves

  Book 11: One Love

  About the Author

  WEREWOLF LOVE STORY

  by

  H.T. Night

  Immortal Warriors #1

  Werewolf Love Story

  Published by H.T. Night

  Copyright © 2011 by H.T. Night

  All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  For my father.

  Werewolf Love Story

  Chapter One

  Practice was insanely tough tonight. Mo, my trainer, kicked my ass. These five-hour practices would have to stop once I was champion.

  I’m a mixed martial arts fighter in the state of California. I was a collegiate wrestling champion for Arizona State. I love the warrior mentality of a man versus man sport. So pursuing mixed martial arts after college was a no-brainer. Quickly, I became addicted to the sport. So much so that I decided to take a shot at being a professional.

  Practice was rough tonight because I was still nursing a pretty serious hangover from a New Year’s Eve party the night before. I hardly ever drink, but there are certain events in the year that qualify as drinking nights, and New Year’s Eve is one of them.

  The year was 2006, and I had just turned 22 years old. College was a breeze for me; I zipped through my four years and earned a degree in Theater Arts. Yes, that’s right, I said it; I’m a mixed martial arts fighter who also has a Theater Arts degree. I took every kind of class when I was at Arizona State and I found that my acting classes were the most fun. And, I’m all about fun.

  But tonight wasn’t about mixed martial arts or theater. Tonight was about unwinding at my favorite dive bar. I wasn’t sure if I was going to drink, considering I drank half the tequila in Mexico last night, but I still had some party left in me and I needed to feed the beast.

  My muscles hardly became sore anymore unless I took a pounding in the gym. Tonight, I took such a pounding. I had recently installed a huge Jacuzzi-style bathtub in my apartment. So, I figured I’d check out the ambiance of the bar and maybe have a tiny little drink. Then I would go home and soak my overworked muscles and joints against the bubbling jets of my Jacuzzi.

  I was so hungover and exhausted that I wanted to go to a bar where I knew I would have zero chance of getting into a fight. I have to admit, I love to fight and my specialty is putting douchebags in their place: on the ground, face down. I’m not talking about the clueless guy who is socially inept and tends to stick his foot in his mouth repeatedly at a bar when it comes to talking to women. I’m talking about the meathead, the abrupt bully who is always trying to physically cut you down to build himself up. I didn’t pummel douchebags for talking crap, I pummeled them in physical self-defense. I’m a walking target for douchebags, because I look like a challenge. I’m about six feet, two inches tall, and have a thick physique. I have an exceptionally small waist in comparison to my shoulders, which gives me a nice ‘V shape’ as the ladies often mentioned. My looks have been compared to a younger Hugh Jackman with more of a rugged edge. I have to admit, I love the ladies, and they seem to love themselves some Tommy. Guys, on the other hand, especially guys in packs, seem not to be so Tommy-friendly. I usually kept to myself because frankly, I could fight every night of the week, if necessary. It was as natural to me as breathing.

  So, my dive bar of choice is a place called Shiners, because everyone there knows my name and respects my contribution to society. I did see the irony in the name of the dive bar and it was like an “inside” joke. Every time I walked in past the sign, I patted it for luck. My goal for my contribution to society, in Shiners and elsewhere, was to make sure that all of my women knew that they were delicate, beautiful creatures—I did all I could to make sure each one was satisfied. Line them up! I liked all women, big and small, black or white. They are all God’s creatures and if the night is right, the lucky chosen one would make a run to my hot tub with me, and walk out with her knees quivering and a smile on her face. But don’t misunderstand my intentions, I’m not sexist or a pig. I love and adore women and I’m a gentleman to the utmost degree. But, I am usually on the prowl, and the cuter my prey, the more I raise my game. My game is simple. I’m the bad boy. Sometimes quiet, sometimes outgoing, but never the braggart. I usually just give tidbits about myself and allow their imaginations to infer the rest. My technique seemed to be working for me. I rarely lacked for female company, but had no steady girlfriend. I had never felt like I needed or wanted one.

  I pul
led my black Mustang into the Shiners parking lot. The bar is about two miles from my gym. I worked out in Anaheim Hills at a gym that specializes in mixed martial arts training. The parking lot was unusually empty for a Thursday night, but then again, it was New Year’s Day; most people were already in bed after a long day of watching football and pigging out on Christmas leftovers and beer. I didn’t have the luxury of eating like a pig since I had to keep my weight around 175 pounds. And beer was pretty much forbidden for fighters. It was said that beer put on weight faster than any food.

  I climbed out of my car and stepped on the crushed gravel parking lot. It was a reasonably cool evening, so I decided to grab my leather jacket from the back seat of my Mustang. It went well with my immaculate white T-shirt and Levi’s 501 button-front blue jeans that molded to my hips as if they were custom made. I had showered and cologned up at the gym and I looked and smelled like a warm summer day. But, because I had a hangover, I knew my breath was probably gross. It was Altoid time! I reached in my left pocket and pulled out a container of wintergreen Altoids. I tossed a couple in my mouth. Considering Altoids were the most I had splurged on my diet all day, I thought it would be okay to knock back a couple more.

  I put on my coat, straightened my clothes and then looked at myself in my driver’s-side mirror. My eyes were a tad bloodshot from my workout but I didn’t have any eye drops, so I decided not to worry about it. Besides, it was kind of dark in Shiners. My dark brown hair seemed a tad messed up, but then again, I couldn’t walk into a bar looking too immaculate. I had learned that a slightly scruffy look could be appealing to women.

  I walked across the parking lot and counted a total of five cars. Was there anyone inside? Worst-case scenario, I could chat it up with Megan, the bartender. She was cute and was well-endowed and I could at least get my flirt on. Practice makes perfect.

  I opened the door to the bar. The door had peeled-off paint on the outside, and they covered the inside with big beer advertisements.

  I peeked in and Jonesy, the doorman, was there, sitting on a stool and looking bored to death. He was a rather large man with a giant head. He looked as if he could be an extra in a motorcycle movie.

  “Tommy, what’s up, brother?” He stuck out his fist and bumped it with mine.

  “Not much, Jonesy.” I knew I wouldn’t have to show my ID, and I was actually glad not to. I had been going to the bar since I was eighteen. If they’d ever wanted to see my real I.D., they would know I had pulled the wool over their eyes for three years with a fake one.

  Just like I expected, there was no one in the bar except a couple of the regulars, old guys who would talk your ear off about politics and the state of the American economy, if you let them. Not tonight, I thought. I walked to the bar area and Megan was behind the bar, looking as hot as ever. She was wearing a hot, black, skintight top with a pair of cut-off jeans shorts. The girl sure knew how to get a tip.

  “Hey, Tommy, have a seat, cutie.” She seemed genuinely glad to see me; she was probably bored to tears listening to the old men talk about elections. I caught some of their conversation in dribs and drabs. It was tedious.

  “Trust me, Megan, there is only one cutie in this bar and it sure as hell isn’t me,” I said as I planted my butt on the high bar stool.

  Megan smiled at me flirtatiously and said, “Jonesy is looking hot tonight.”

  “Yes, he is. No one but Jonesy is quite able to pull off the old-school MacGyver mullet with Elvis sideburns. What’s not to love?”

  She laughed. “That’s for sure. What can I get you, Fighter Boy?”

  I hesitated and then said, “I’ll have a Patron. Make it a double shot. Neat.” Sometimes, I like to order a drink to impress, but it’s hard to impress a bartender with anything but a tip.

  “Sure thing.” Megan grabbed the Patron bottle from the back of the bar. She had to tilt up her body to get the bottle and thank God, she did. I caught a glimpse of an ass cheek. Wow, that did the trick! I would put that image in my mental vault and whip out that baby as needed in times of solitude.

  I’m not a pig, so I definitely didn’t let on to Megan that I was pretty turned on by her little reach-up-to-grab-a-bottle performance. A woman like Megan knows she’s hot and works it for all she’s got. I’m sure the ass cheek slid out on purpose from her tiny cutoffs. If I was to comment, it would just put me in a category of every hard-up creep who comes in here looking to hit on a defenseless lady bartender. If Megan didn’t work here and I had met her out in the real world, I might have hit on her. But there was no way I would do anything other than harmless flirting. I make it a point not to shit where I eat. Shiners was my home away from home and I took it seriously that I should not become involved with the employees. No matter how cute.

  Megan turned around and poured me a double shot and set it in front of me along with a couple of limes and a salt shaker.

  “You know me so well, Megan.”

  “I aim to please.”

  “I know you do.” I put a little salt on my wrist and cut a lime in half. “Here’s to the new year!” I licked the salt, downed the double shot and sucked the lime. It went down smooth, Patron always does. “Slow night?” I asked.

  Megan smirked at the idiocy of my obvious question. “I expected it,” she said. “I have no idea why the owner even has this place open. He gives us two vacation days, Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  “Well, I’ll tip you good.”

  “I know you will, you always do.” Megan looked over my shoulder and then paused. “Don’t look now, Tommy, but a ‘ten’ just walked in and she’s all alone.”

  “Wow, a ‘ten’ even.” I didn’t look around.

  “She’s hot. I’d do her,” Megan said.

  “She’s either super hot, or super nasty,” I whispered under my breath. Hot girls tend to make out with odd-looking chicks at parties. There’s something about a bad, genuine hard-ass chick that turns on straight girls. But that sort of girl does nothing for me.

  “She’s definitely hot! Turn around, you chickenshit.”

  “I’m not chickenshit, I’m savoring the moment. I like to pace myself.”

  “Well, Mr. Pacer, you blew it. She just left.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me.” I turned around and saw the door close. I looked at Megan and gave her a look that said, ‘this girl better be worth going to the parking lot to check out.’

  “Go see for yourself,” she said, and began wiping down the counter.

  I stood up and hurried past Jonesy and went outside. I opened the door and right beside the door on the right was a beautiful brunette. She was sexy in a hot Playboy centerfold way, but still had enough girl next door in her to tell she was grounded. At least, I hoped so; you never know with girls from Southern California. She was looking at her phone and typing a text message. I decided I’d better do something, too, so it didn’t appear as if I had only come outside to see her. Which I had. I took a couple of steps to the left and pretended to text on my phone.

  I mouthed out loud what I was supposedly texting to give the illusion I was extremely interested in my make-believe text. I had to play it as if I was completely unaware of the hot brunette that I was standing next to me in the parking lot. This kind of move hardly ever works, but it was worth a shot.

  I took my time and eventually looked over at her to see that the brown-haired beauty and I were about fifteen feet apart. She caught me looking in her direction and I gave my sincerest, warmest smile. Her eyes locked in on me. Bingo! She was interested.

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, maybe it was just the way you were looking at me.”

  “How was I looking at you?” I said, laughing.

  “I don’t know. You looked at me as if you recognized me.”

  “Sorry, I was just texting a friend and you caught my eye.”

  She nodded her head like a woman who hears that kind of thing all
the time. She stopped texting and looked up at me and said, “Why is the bar so dead?”

  “It’s usually pretty active. It is New Year’s Day.”

  “Oh yeah, it is. That’s funny. I took a nap at noon before I came here. So, it feels like the next day. Even though it’s the same day.”

  “That would do it to you. Sleeping during the day always messes up my internal body clock.”

  Then something odd happened. She looked at me with a concerned, puzzled look. I looked at her and then she motioned toward her nose. You know, that motion people do when you have a booger. Are you kidding me? Really? I have a big booger hanging out of my nose? Apparently, not just a small one, she looked at it like there was an asteroid hanging out of my nostril. I was horrified.

  She continued to stare right at my nostril and now her face went from moderate concern to absolute horror. How big was this booger? I finally reached toward my face and as I did, I felt a drip fall from my nose to the ground below. Holy shit, my nose was bleeding.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, rushing over to me.

  I tilted back my head and the young lady pulled some tissue out of her purse.

  “Don’t put your head back. You’ll choke on your own blood,” she said. “You need to lean forward and pinch your nose.” She grabbed my hand and led me back inside the bar. She walked me across the bar to the restroom area.

  “It only took you five minutes for her to punch you in the face, Tommy,” Megan yelled out, laughing, as I was being swept off by my new brown-haired friend.

  She took me into the ladies’ room. She was still holding my hand while she opened the door to the bathroom. The first thing I noticed was that there were no urinals and all of the stalls had doors. There was even a little table with a plant on top. Are you kidding me? The men’s bathroom was disgusting, and this bathroom looked like a room at the Hilton by comparison.