Rogue Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  As if to underscore her truth, the pups burst out of the undergrowth, a sleek white wolf in close pursuit. Sophia, the Pack Omega, the healer and calm center who maintained the balance between Were aggression and protectiveness for the entire Pack. She romped around the clearing, Kira and Kendra yipping and tumbling over their own paws in exuberance.

  Drake pulled Sylvan’s shirt loose and caressed her. “I know.”

  She and Sylvan—the whole Pack—would protect them with their lives. And for now, they were young who needed to learn the lessons all young needed to survive. “I suppose you had a plan once you helped these two escape their lessons?”

  “I thought we’d run and wear them out.” Sylvan stripped off her shirt and unzipped her pants.

  “Be sure you save a little energy for me.” Drake took in the long muscular lines of Sylvan’s body, the power in her shoulders, the delicate dangerous contours of her abdomen, the beauty of her bold jaw and brilliant eyes.

  “Always.” The air around Sylvan shimmered and her wolf stood in the center of the clearing.

  “I love you.” Drake tossed her clothes onto the porch behind her and called her wolf. She padded to Sylvan’s side and bumped shoulders.

  Sylvan’s wolf rested her muzzle atop Drake’s. I love you, mate. And don’t worry, they’ll tire long before me.

  Rumbling, Drake nudged her playfully. Lead the way, Alpha.

  Join us? Sylvan called to Sophia, who crouched panting at the edge of the forest.

  Sophia loped over and licked Sylvan’s jaw. With pleasure, Alpha.

  Sylvan barked a wolf command and the two young stiffened, their ears perking, eyes flashing. Sylvan raced across the clearing to the trail behind their den. Drake fell in beside her, Sophia and the young racing behind. Sylvan set a rapid pace, leaving the trail soon after they entered the denser forest, leaping over fallen trees, scampering up rocky escarpments, bounding across sun-drenched clearings. Drake and Sophia kept pace, while the young—loose limbed and heavy pawed—yipped and howled their excitement and made enough noise for an entire Pack on the hunt.

  Their joy was infectious, and Drake raised her voice with theirs.

  Sylvan leapt over a stream, and her ears perked, muzzle lifted to the wind.

  Wolves nearby.

  Drake caught the scent of sex, lust, and dominance all wrapped together. Not a simple tangle then. We could leave them.

  Sylvan’s ears flickered. They do not have leave to challenge. In this I was clear.

  They have leave to run?

  Yes.

  Drake’s wolf grumbled. But this is more.

  Sylvan snorted and glanced at Sophia. Omega?

  One of them is seeking a mate. And they both fight it.

  Sylvan snarled. One is out-Pack. My centuri should stand down.

  You may be too late to prevent that, Drake cautioned mildly.

  We shall see. Sylvan growled and bounded up the slope.

  Chapter Ten

  Nothing more. Ash repeated the oath, even as Jace loomed over her, her eyes still ringed in gold, the tips of her canines still gleaming, still challenging. Ash ignored her wolf’s primal urge to answer Jace’s call, to demand more. To fight for everything—to give everything. Ash stared at the dusky invitation spread across Jace’s chest, the flush of pheromones and roiling hormones an invitation for her to bite. To bite and join. The want in her stomach twisted into a barbed wire coil of need and urgency. She whined softly, a shudder of pleasure-pain rolling through her.

  Jace leaned low and kissed her. Her kiss was hot and brutally gentle, a taunting, teasing promise of everything Ash feared—and longed for. She’d tangled with abandon since adolescence, tussling with her peers, challenging for her place in the Pack, venting her sexual need with those she called friends and those whose position she sought to usurp. Such was the way of Were society, where power and strength ruled. She would mate when her time came and her wolf recognized her match, when the unbreakable bond leapt into being and drove her to join with blood and body and soul. But not one she would never choose—not one who was not Pack. Pack was everything—Pack was life.

  “Get off.” Ash growled and rolled her hips

  “Why? I like you under me.” Jace just laughed and steadied herself, thighs tight on either side of Ash’s hips. She stroked Ash’s chest and teased a finger down the center of her abdomen. “You only pretend you don’t like it.”

  Ash’s heartbeat filled her throat, and she swept her hands down the long curves of Jace’s flanks, reveling in the steel muscles beneath the sun-kissed skin. Hiding her wolf’s response took all her will. She ached too badly. She bled from a thousand slashes of claw and canine—her wolf’s demand to yield. Panting to contain the pressure in her depths, she echoed Jace’s earlier accusation, “You presume too much, Wolf.”

  Jace grinned. “Prove me wrong then. Show me you don’t still want me.”

  “I don’t…” Ash frowned. The air in the clearing vibrated with power. Her wolf snarled, every hair on her back standing at attention.

  Jace stiffened, then bolted upright. “The Alpha comes.”

  Ash shuddered under the rush of dominant hormones flooding her senses. Even Alpha Constantine, whose wolf could force her to show her throat, did not affect her so strongly. If the Alpha opposed her tussling with Jace before, what would she do now? Attack her? Or Jace?

  Growling, Ash leapt up and spun to face the edge of the clearing where the two Timberwolves who’d attacked her earlier had first emerged. She let her wolf rise, preparing to defend herself and her…not mate.

  Not now, not ever.

  Ash’s pelt rippled and her bones screamed, jaw lengthening and limbs flexing.

  “Ash, no!” Jace snarled and clamped on to her nape. “Stand down. If you challenge her, you’ll die.”

  “I won’t let her hurt you.” Ash’s words spewed like gravel, harsh and guttural. The change gripped her, a sweet rush of power and wild urges.

  “She won’t,” Jace said. “She’s my Alpha. Ash…please!”

  The Alpha burst over the crest and landed in the center of the glade, easy striking distance from Ash. She could easily have torn out her throat before Ash finished changing. A black wolf, nearly the same size, landed beside her. The huge silver wolf swung her massive head from one to the other.

  Jace lowered her head and saluted. “Alpha, Prima.”

  Ash edged slightly forward in front of Jace. Her wolf rode her hard, and she fought not to growl. Jace’s claws dug into the back of her neck.

  Silently, gaze fixed on Ash, Sylvan’s wolf curled a lip. A warning. The only one she would be given.

  Jace’s iron grip turned briefly tender, stroking her neck and shoulder. “Show your respect, Wolf.”

  Trembling with the effort to hold her wolf at bay, Ash lowered her gaze to the Alpha’s chest. “Alpha Mir, Prima. Greetings.”

  Sylvan woofed sharply and two pups came panting into view, corralled by a sleek white wolf with brilliant blue eyes shot through the gold. They raced across the clearing and crowded close to the Prima. The white wolf followed, resting her muzzle briefly atop each of the pups’ heads before turning her gaze on Ash.

  Ash’s wolf raised her muzzle, her ears pricking in eager anticipation, an unfamiliar joy spreading through her chest. Her hackles settled, her fear and aggression calmed. The tension bled from Ash’s shoulders, and beside her, Jace let out a long breath. What had just happened?

  The Alpha’s voice cut through Ash’s pleasant confusion.

  Was I not clear challenge was forbidden?

  “No challenge, Alpha,” Jace said.

  And you, Captain? Are you sure?

  “No challenge, Alpha,” Ash said, keeping her eyes at a respectful distance below the Alpha pair’s.

  Then I can expect the two of you to perform your duties without incident.

  “Yes, Alpha,” Ash and Jace said simultaneously.

  With a sharp snap of her massive jaws, Sylvan’s wolf piv
oted and bounded into the forest, her mate by her side, the young and their guard close behind.

  “What did you think you were doing,” Jace shouted. “She would have torn you to pieces.”

  “She put claws to you earlier,” Ash said. “I don’t know her.”

  “She’s my Alpha. She won’t hurt me.” Jace grabbed her shoulders with both hands and yanked her close, kissing her fiercely. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  Ash rested her forehead on Jace’s shoulder, her wolf still oddly quiet. “That white wolf,” Ash said, “who is she?”

  “Why?” Jace’s grip tightened, a sudden possessive rasp in her voice.

  Ash raised a brow. “I felt…something from her…I don’t know what it was.”

  “Did you try to call her to you?” Jace cupped Ash’s face, swept her thumb along the line of her jaw, kissed her again, hard enough to bruise. “Why? Are you not yet satisfied?”

  “I had no reason to call her.” Ash laughed. “First, she’s mated. That was clear. And…if I had called her, you would’ve felt it.”

  “Then why do you care?” Jace fought the urge to leave a mark on Ash’s shoulder, to remind her, to remind everyone, that Ash was taken. For today at least. “She is our healer, and an Omega.”

  “Ah,” Ash said, taking a long breath. “I wondered. I’ve never felt anything like that before. Sunlight, and calm, and unbendable strength.”

  Jace grumbled. “You felt a great deal.”

  Ash grinned. “She’s beautiful. We have none like her at Cresthome.”

  Jace ran a claw tip down Ash’s throat, repeating, “And she is mated. To the imperator.”

  Enjoying Jace’s displeasure, Ash shrugged, although she would never challenge another’s mate bond. She had no interest in mated wolves. But Jace didn’t know that. “The imperator is impressive, true, but…any wolf can be defeated with the right motivation.”

  Jace snarled. “You’re a fool to think that, and if you are still so ready you’re imagining tangling with another wolf, I can change that right here.”

  Ash pulled away, tantalized by the possessive fury in Jace’s eyes. Laughing, she shimmered into pelt, howled a challenge, and streaked off into the woods. Jace, teased and tormented and excited by the contest, shifted and chased after her.

  * * *

  Zora leaned against the railing of the barracks, driven outside by her wolf’s restless unhappiness at being confined and a deeper, unsettling urge. An urge she had no intention of satisfying while among strangers, no matter how painful the claws raking her inside.

  “Is there anything you need, Alpha Constantine?” the Timberwolf male assigned to guard her inquired. His breathing had quickened, and his scent deepened. His wolf reacting to the remnants of her call that could never be completely dampened.

  Zora carefully muted her response—the question might be innocent, were it not for the timing and her own rising hunger. He hadn’t moved. Wise of him. Had he encroached on her space, she would have seen that as an uninvited challenge, and protocol or not, she would have unleashed her wolf to put him under her. “No.”

  He was a senior soldier and held his place. As expected. Mir would never have sent an unseasoned Were, incapable of tolerating her wolf’s presence, anywhere near her. Ignoring him, she studied the Timberwolf warriors who were training recruits in the vast arena in the Compound courtyard. So many warriors, so many young soldiers. Far more adolescents than she could ever expect in her Pack. An alliance with the Timberwolf Alpha would provide her Pack with protection, but at what cost? Her Alpha, her father, had avoided allegiances with other Packs, particularly those larger and more powerful, believing eventually Snowcrest would be absorbed and cease to exist. If her wolves were not slowly being bled away, victims of ambush and sneak attack by an enemy she could not find, she would not have considered it either. But the days when Snowcrest had existed in near isolation, with only a few members trading with similarly isolated merchants across the Canadian border, were gone. With the Exodus, all of them had been exposed, and all of them were now at risk. Her father had been opposed to intermingling with the human population. She could see his point, especially now, when the humans had chosen a different leader, one who outwardly voiced the opinion that humans were superior to all Praeterns and appeared to be sympathetic to the Humans First movement. She admired Sylvan Mir for her continued attempts to negotiate with humans, to push forward the agenda of Praetern recognition and Praetern solidarity, but she wondered if anything short of war would win those goals. And if war came, she would need allies with strong warriors.

  One of the lieutenants, a female with a slash of white running through her midnight black hair, disarmed an adolescent with a swift series of movements Zora would not have been able to follow if she hadn’t been watching her so carefully. She’d been watching the striking soldier far more than anyone else, admiring her sleek strength. Admiring her just a little too much. Her wolf stalked her blood, alert and intensely focused on this female. Interested.

  As if sensing the attention, the female turned and met Zora’s gaze for an impertinent moment, then dipped her head, more in acknowledgment than a show of submission, and turned back to her maneuvers with a smile. Zora grumbled beneath her breath. Foolish wolf.

  “Who is that?” she found herself asking the Timberwolf guard. Not that it mattered, but she wanted a name to put to the sculpted face and arrogant smile.

  “That’s Trent, Alpha,” the male answered.

  “A lieutenant in your army,” she said.

  “Yes, Alpha. A squadron commander.”

  Zora didn’t need to ask if she was mated—she could tell she wasn’t. She could scent the invitation of Trent’s pheromones across the yard. So, she was certain, could every other Were in the vicinity. She turned away, ignoring her wolf’s interest. She was a Were, after all, and she enjoyed a tangle as much as any other. But she was also Alpha. She ruled her pheromones, not the other way around. And while her Pack was in mortal danger, she could not afford to be distracted, especially not when surrounded by foreign Weres. Her wolf, and the constant thrum of want in her loins, would have to wait for a safer time and place. And a far safer Were to tangle with.

  The guard stepped forward abruptly and Zora spun, growling a warning.

  “Forgive me, Alpha,” the guard said, dipping his head quickly. “The Alpha comes.”

  Power surged through the Compound, a blast of strength and primal aggression that brought Zora’s wolf surging. Every Were in sight turned to face the same direction as a great silver wolf sailed over the stockade fence, accompanied by one of midnight black. A moment later, the smaller gates on that side opened and a white wolf, followed by two panting young, bounded inside.

  A chorus of yips and howls and shouts welcomed the Alpha pair and their young. The imperator left the training group she’d been supervising and strode to intercept the striking white wolf. When the imperator ran a possessive hand though the wolf’s sleek ruff, the white wolf brushed against the imperator’s thigh and rubbed her muzzle over the imperator’s hip.

  The black wolf, Sylvan’s Prima, herded the young toward the rear of the Compound in the direction where Zora suspected the nursery was located. That area was heavily guarded continuously. Had she more successful breedings in her Pack, she would do the same. Thinking once more of all the Weres in this Pack, and the strength of their line, she considered the constraints of isolation. As long as they remained limited in their association with other Packs, their matings would continue to produce few young. Snowcrest would always remain Snowcrest, but new blood born of new allegiances might only make them stronger.

  Sylvan loped over to Zora. All is well, Alpha?

  Zora hid her surprise at the silent communication. Considering she was not in pelt and she shared no Pack bond with Sylvan, she wouldn’t have expected Sylvan could signal her so strongly. Zora wondered if anyone, Were or human, had any inkling of Sylvan Mir’s true power. Zora lifted her chin, her gaze stea
dy on Sylvan’s. Despite her lack of experience, she could never let Sylvan think she considered herself anything less than an equal. “Other than my growing impatience to know your decision, I am satisfied.”

  Sylvan cocked her head and gave a wolfie grin, as if expecting nothing less than annoyance from an Alpha kept waiting. Join me at headquarters now, and we’ll talk.

  “With pleasure, Alpha.”

  Zora leapt into the yard as Sylvan streaked away and strode toward the central building. She’d sensed the female lieutenant approaching and, curious, slowed her steps just enough so their paths intersected. The Timberwolf Weres were very bold, or very foolish.

  “Did you enjoy the training lesson, Alpha Constantine?” the female asked in a smooth sultry alto.

  “Should I have?”

  “Our recruits are very talented,” the female said.

  “I found them entertaining.”

  “Then I hope everything was to your liking.” The female’s gaze skimmed briefly over Zora’s face.

  “The instruction was…interesting. Your recruits are not afraid to attempt to overpower their trainers.”

  “We encourage them to try to win, and they’re eager to please,” the female replied with a subtle emphasis on eager. “As are their instructors.”

  Zora smiled to herself. An aggressive female, dominant. And very brave.

  “I’m Trent,” the female said.

  “I know.”

  Trent’s eyes glinted, a scattering of gold dancing in her dark gaze. Her breath quickened and her pheromones thickened. Zora enjoyed the answering heat in her depths—enjoyed, and contained. Her wolf deserved to play, but only that. A little teasing.

  “I must return to my duties,” Trent said. “Perhaps you’ll return to observe more later.”

  “Perhaps.” Zora walked on as Trent dropped back and disappeared. Rarely if ever had she been so boldly approached. Her Weres were far from submissive, although like any Pack, they couldn’t survive without the special talents of their naturally less dominant wolves, but even the dominant Weres waited for her to call them, in the rare occasions when her need was greatest. The Timberwolf Weres were either very arrogant or very naïve. While she found their lack of respect vaguely annoying, her wolf was more than a little intrigued.