It’s near death already, and if the humans watch out of curiosity there is a much higher probability of damage. I need to finish this.
Resigned—because I wasn’t going to get the information I wanted—I grabbed the wolf by the neck.
A twitch, and its neck was snapped. The wolf was dead before it hit the ground.
Pip didn’t stop running. She reached the little girls just as the smaller one of the pair asked, “Is the wolf sleeping now?”
“Where are your parents? We should find them.” Pip ushered the girls toward the crowd standing on the sidewalk as I stared down at the dead wolf in disgust.
“Alpha Greyson.” Ember slowed from a sprint to a jog as she left the trees of the forest. Her hair—gathered in neat, tiny braids—swung with her steps, and the glow of the sun cresting through the town made the brown of her skin appear more golden.
When she was about halfway to me, she abruptly halted, and the muscles of her neck throbbed.
I immediately clamped down on the powers I’d loosened to try to make the wolf submit, tempering them to a more reasonable level for the rest of my Pack.
I’d forgotten I’d used my powers.
My powers didn’t work on Pip—one of the pros of her being a hunter. Since I had to keep my powers reeled up whenever I was around anyone else, Pip was the one person in the Pack I could truly unwind around, drop the stiff leader act, and play with.
Pip had never been shy of complaining about this, but at least she had the decency to playfight back.
I need a hobby besides playing with our hunter. But there’s nothing else that’s nearly as entertaining.
Regardless, letting my powers loose like that was sloppy work. I needed to keep absolute control, or I would accidentally nail half my Pack where they stood and not notice.
Without my powers holding her in place, Ember resumed picking her way toward me. “Hector should be here any moment with Wyatt and Aeric,” she said.
“Good.” I crouched down by the wolf, tilting my head as I sorted through the smells that wafted off him.
The reek of blood was pretty overwhelming, but it didn’t entirely mask the scent of must and stagnant water.
“He’s from the Low Marsh Pack,” I said.
The Low Marsh Pack had been named after the geography of their small territory—the bulk of which was swamp. There was no escaping that smell when you lived in it and it festered in your hair—and fur—all day and all night.
Ember peered down at the mottled wolf. “I don’t recognize him, but Hector might. He stays on top of all members of our neighboring Packs.”
I leaned closer to the wolf, sniffing out the faint whiff of foreign magic—which was still there. He was pretty big. Pip—average sized at best, though she was lean with muscle—had done amazing well in holding him off.
“Looks like Pip got a few good hits in,” Ember said. “He would have died of blood loss in a few minutes.”
I glanced at Ember. “She was protecting the humans.”
I still must not have fully clamped down on my powers, because Ember slightly bowed, dropping deeper than she normally would. “Of course, Alpha Greyson.”
I better smother even more of it.
It was always hard for me to tell—I had to restrain them so much I barely felt it myself, which made it hard to judge the exact level. But I didn’t tolerate excuses from myself. Not when my Pack paid for my mistakes.
I slowly stood up as I mentally pulled back my powers even more.
Right as I finished, Hector, Wyatt, and Aeric came striding out of the forest.
Wyatt and Aeric jogged up to Pip, crowding her with the ease of familiarity, but Hector joined Ember and me.
“Alpha Greyson.” He stopped when he was even with Ember and bowed to me before briefly brushing his shoulder against his wife’s.
I watched Pip—with Aeric and Wyatt—shoo the humans a few steps farther away. “Hector.”
Hector leaned over the wolf, inspecting the wounds. “My, my. This seems like a fine mess. I shall alert the Curia Cloisters shortly to this attack, but I’m sure they’ll want a detailed description.”
With the rush of the fight fading, the familiar pang in my chest started twisting, making its presence known again.
I didn’t acknowledge the pain—mentally or physically.
I’d gotten enough looks of sympathy from my Pack over the source of my pain to drive me off mentioning it for the rest of my life.
It was just an unfulfilled mate bond, but they acted as if I was missing half of myself—which was absolutely stupid. You can’t miss someone you’ve never met.
And I hope I never do meet her. The last thing I need is someone chained to me so I have to control my powers every waking hour instead of just during work hours.
I ignored the pain, even when it burrowed into my heart like a parasite. “Pip first saw the wolf,” I said. “She had it mostly handled when I arrived.”
“Ah, in that case, might I begin by speaking with Phillipa?” Hector asked.
“Sure, I’m right here.” Pip spun her daggers around her finger tips as she strolled up to us, an interested light making her green eyes even brighter than usual. “What’s up?”
Chapter 3
Pip
I ambled up to Greyson, Ember, and Hector, taking a moment to glance back over my shoulder at Aeric and Wyatt, who were reassuring the humans.
I smiled and wiggled my fingers at the two little girls, who were watching with big eyes.
“I was wondering if you might be willing to tell what you saw, so I can include it in my report to the Curia Cloisters.” Hector whipped out his phone, ready to take notes.
“I’m afraid there’s not much to say.” I tapped my daggers against my thigh and chewed on my lip. “I was on my way to work when I saw him. I whistled, then tried to stop him, but he kept going for the girls. I didn’t know right away he was feral, but it was pretty obvious once I got closer.”
Ember frowned. “Feral? But we haven’t had a case of that in Wisconsin in years.”
Feral was the term used to describe a werewolf who had entirely forfeited his humanity, and acted as pure animal.
“He was bespelled.” Greyson folded his arms across his chest and peered down at the dead wolf. “Though I’m not sure by who. The scent of the magic is different from anything I’ve smelled before.”
Greyson was tall for a werewolf—even taller than Aeric. While he had wide shoulders, it was the dangerous grace that he held himself with and the sculpt of his muscles that reminded me more of a deadly soldier than the fierce athleticism of a typical wolf.
His hair was a light shade of brown—or maybe a dark shade of blond depending on the lighting—and his eyes were a deep amber color that could strike straight to your heart.
All of that combined with his chiseled facial features and strong jawline, and he was fit for a career as a model.
Since the unlucky day I’d met him, it seemed like it was unfair that he was so freakin’ good looking in addition to being powerful.
Ember discreetly sniffed at the dead wolf, scenting it out for any remnants of the magic.