The Royal Jagger

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Blurb:

A werewolf shifter, interracial romance story. The paranormal world teeters on the edge of collapse. Due to the relentless efforts of the human-run Agency, bent on suppressing their existence, werewolves and other creatures are forced to remain in hiding. At the heart of this struggle are the Jaggers, ancient werewolves revered for their purity.

Betrayed by the Agency under what was supposed to be a flu shot, they were instead administered a serum that prevents the birth of female offspring, threatening their existence. Marissa, a rebellious Jagger, uncovers this devastating secret. Armed with this knowledge, she’s thrust into a journey to overturn the injustice.

But first, she must navigate a controversial and heated romance with fellow shapeshifter, Peter… Amidst the battle for her people’s future, can Marissa also pave the way for love across clan lines? And will her quest ignite a revolution that will save her people? Find out now in this interracial paranormal romance by Paige Cooper.

Chapter One

The cloaked woman made a mad dash from the railroad car toward the forest beyond, clutching the small bundle tightly against her as she went. She could spare no time to glance over her shoulder behind her, nor even to breathe. An arrow sliced through the air and caught her in the arm, yet still she did not pause, instead disappearing into the dense foliage.

The absence of the moon was both helpful and damaging to her progress, yet as she picked her way straight up the mountainside she knew her way with a strange instinct—a gift from the lady who had sent her here with her most precious cargo.

“We’ll be there soon, Raife,” she told the baby in her arms. “Your mother’s death was not in vain. Not as long as we have you.”

Baby Raife’s eyes looked at her in an understanding that far surpassed her age, nodding her head once to acknowledge the words. She knew that the Mooneyes would not fail in her mission, even if the wound in her arm hurt. The arrow-tip was not made of silver, indicating that her pursuers did not wish the woman dead. But Raife knew that it was imperative that she not be taken alive, as did Rowafa.

They reached a small cave, where the woman dove through the entrance without a second thought and hurried quickly through the tunnels inside. She managed to get to a deep, dark cavern far back within the labyrinth of caves before she paused to break the arrow that protruded from her arm.

“That’s an Agency arrow,” said the young woman who happened to already be sitting there. “How did you find this place?”

“Marissa Wolfe, I knew that you would come here sooner or later, but I am grateful that you did not make me wait. Your grandmother, Victoria, sends her regards,” she said. “She has also sent you this.”

The young woman stepped over to look at the bundle the woman had set down beside her in the dirt. Inside was a baby, probably not even half a year old, with the same pale skin and dark hair as she had herself. The same features as any other Jagger—the werewolf race had very distinctive traits.

“Who is this child?” she wanted to know.

“She is your aunt, Raife Goldeneye,” the woman explained. “You will learn everything you need from the child herself. She has been endowed with the memories of Queen Victoria.”

“Well, let us hope you are talking about the former werewolf queen, and not the one who once resided in London,” Marissa smirked. “I hardly think her memories would do me much good.”

“Princess, I have no time to linger,” Rowafa told her. “I must let them kill me. Only by finding me dead will they believe their search is ended. They must never learn the whereabouts of this child. View her memories, and you will understand. Good luck to you, Raife. I pray for the sake of all Jaggers that you will live. You may be their deliverance someday. Good-bye.”

“Wait! I don’t know how to care for a baby!” Marissa called after the woman, but she didn’t even pause as she stood and ran away. With a sigh, Marissa turned back to the child, who gave one sad cry and then dried her own eyes. “I suppose I’d better bring you to someone who does, then, hadn’t I?”

As soon as she touched the baby, Marissa’s head began to spin. Memories began to spill into her brain at a rapid speed, and she abruptly sat down, letting them play out.

I know that we have not spoken since you were a small child, granddaughter, but I knew that you would not have forgotten this place. There is much that I wish I could say to you, but little time to say it. And so I will tell you only what is most important for now.

Bringing in the New Year of 1963 in the city of Dallas wasn’t easy for me. This year, I was queen of the werewolves for exactly three hundred years. I wasn’t Markael’s first wife, of course, but I was the female who managed to birth his heir. Back then, the paranormals ran rampant in the streets, and the Agency had been formed to try to put a stop to the problem.

But no one ever suspected what they were going to do about it.

For ten years prior, it seemed, the Agency had been working in secret. The groups they’d been targeting at their mountain retreats included various kinds of paranormal creatures, which they’d begun to collectively refer to as ‘paranormals’ for the purposes of those secret studies. However, they had also begun abducting some of the ‘specimens’ and using them for slave labor in deep, hidden caves, forcing them to prepare their own eventual prisons.

Five sites had been selected for the ‘experimental living facilities’ where they intended to house larger test groups. Some of the paranormals went there willingly, preferring to be fed and housed instead of trying to exist on the outside. Rumors had begun to spread. People went missing more and more. My husband and I had come to Colorado in search of the truth. The Agency’s headquarters was up in the Rocky Mountains near the city of Vail.

Somehow they managed to remain hidden. But Markael was the sole descendent of the royal Jaggers. He had been called upon as the king of the werewolves to investigate, and he refused to allow the Agency to kidnap and enslave his people—or maybe even worse.

The entire year of 1963 was, in fact, well-planned out, right down to the assassination of the President of the United States, and all of the hysteria that event generated. It gave armies the license to roam the streets that month, and the Agency the license to begin gathering the paranormals as a matter of ‘national security’.

That was the year my heart died when they captured Markael. The men had no idea who they held as he struggled for his freedom, but I have no idea if the outcome would have changed if they did. The only way to kill a Jagger is to lop off his head. Markael’s was not the only one removed that day, but for me in that moment it was the end of the world—at least the world as I knew it then.

They herded all the paranormals into one great cave, having no care for rivalries or enmity. Many of the creatures who did not die in the gathering were killed during the riots within the caves. Segregation became inevitable. Werewolves, Vampires, Godlike beings, and Magicans each were given their own areas, and each group was completely sealed away from access to the others. Only at the access points, under the strictest guard, are they now allowed to mingle.

Of course, this much you must already know, and that is not the reason for my use of the ancient ritual to implant these words. What you are about to learn now is far more important than how we came to live within the different Facilities. What you learn now could save the Jagger race from total extinction.