Wolf's Strength

by Kirk, Ambrielle

  “Ellis,” Tristan replied with a solemn stare. “She married Jonathan Ellis’s father.”

  His next breath lodged in his throat. If this was true, so many things made sense and too many things made no sense. There was no mystery. Jonathan needed those relics. It was why he ordered Keira out of that house as a last resort to finding them. Did Jonathan’s late brother Jamison hide the relics away from Jamison or from everyone?

  Devin shook his head. He needed more evidence. Solid evidence. “How do you know this?”

  The veins on Tristan’s neck corded as he gripped the edges of the table. “Men have died fishing for this information. We want to find out who the fuck keeps murdering us in the streets of our territories.”

  “How long have you been sending your men out?”

  “When you signed your declaration welcoming loyal shifters and half-breeds into the Caedmon Pack, that’s when bodies started dropping. And that’s when I amplified my forces. I began recruiting members for Elite and Enforcer teams. Everyone, including you, were considered an enemy until I discovered otherwise.”

  “Fair enough.” Devin bit his bottom lip, recalling the murders of his Pack members had started around that time as well. He’d passed it off as retaliation against his rise and the change in Pack policies, but according to Tristan, there was a different reason altogether. “I can agree. Most of the opposition started around that time.”

  “At first I thought you were responsible. I believed there was some agenda between you and Council and you had plans to annihilate the Arnou Pack. I’ve had men go out one day on a mission and return a different man the next day. It’s as if their souls have been stripped from them one by one.”

  Devin narrowed his eyes. “Well, now you know I wasn’t the one killing your men.”

  Tristan shook his head. “I agreed. That’s not the case at all. Especially since I’ve had time to gather more evidence. There’s a contending force behind the Other clan. Others were never that powerful to begin with, and they were never meant to be.”

  “But with the right powers—”

  “And person—”

  “They can become a great threat.”

  “So.” Tristan leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table. “I want to find out what they have that I don’t. There shouldn’t be a reason why this clan has such power over us shifters.”

  Devin crossed his arm over his chest, contemplating if he should share his discoveries with Tristan. He had the reputation as someone who dug for knowledge but reacted without meaningful purpose. “Somehow, I don’t think you would know what to do if I told you what was happening.”

  “Try me.”

  “They’re stripping our Wolf Spirits from our human half, along with the powers belonging to it.”

  All expression drained from Tristan’s face. “That would explain it. It would explain why Ruby can’t shift.”

  Devin shook his head. “Who’s Ruby?”

  “Apparently she was involved in the fight at the Dockhouse Bar. She is—was—a member of the Elite.” Tristan pressed his lips flat. “She has no Spirit; that explains it.”

  “They’ve been smart enough to start at the bottom of our Packs, but imagine what might happen to the Arnou Pack if your immediate family was stripped of the Caedmon Spirit.”

  “We’d be powerless to defend ourselves because our powers are attached to our wolf side.”

  “Exactly. That’s what the perpetrators want. They wants us without powers. Weakened.”

  “There must be a way to stop them.”

  Devin trained his eyes on his cousin whom he once believed had gone astray. “I have some ideas.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Six o’clock. Guy in the mahogany shirt. His companion is wearing a white baseball cap.” Blake nodded in the direction of the man. “Are those the regulars you’re talking about?”

  The head bartender’s gaze shifted upward and then down again. “They regulars but they don’t cause no trouble ‘round here. They ain’t the one’s you’re lookin’ for.”

  Aiden snorted and shifted on his stool. He took a lighter out of his pocket and used the mirrored side to get a view of the two men Blake spotted.

  “Samuel, how long have you been working here?” Blake inquired of the bartender.

  “Years, sir. Almost six years.”

  “Take another look. The young guy with the white baseball cap looks like he’s trying too hard to maintain a low key persona. His face was rounded with a clean-shaven jawline. Look at his shoes. Who wears Wall Street slacks to an exotic bar?”

  Samuel looked up again as he wiped the bar with his towel for the fourth time. “A lot of them uppity businessmen come for the girls. They’re too ashamed to show their faces, so they dress down a little.”

  “Doesn’t look like he’s looking at girls to me,” Aiden commented, twisting his lighter upright and then nudging it into his pocket. “All your girls are on stage behind him. His eyes are focused on the door.”

  “What are you two saying?” Samuel asked. “You suppose he’s up to no good.”

  Blake and Aiden exchanged a knowing glance. He’d known Aiden almost all his life. Even though they were cousins, their uncle raised them like brothers. Something told Blake they had the same hunch. Something was going on at the Dockhouse Bar. Something strange. The club was in unmarked territory, so Blake didn’t doubt the possibility of the something strange occurring here on a regular basis. After the chaos, he was certain he’d find some answers here, which was why he and Aiden had returned.

  “He’s up to something.”

  “Look at this.” Samuel tipped his chin upward in the direction of the suspicious men. “Looks like the big one caught himself a chick. See I told ya. They’re just looking for innocent fun.”

  Blake opened a case on the counter, spun in his chair, and pretended to be interested in the exotic dancers performing on the stage. But of course, he was interested in Samuel’s observation. Sure enough the guy in the mahogany shirt followed a chick to the opposite side of the wall. The big grin plastered on her face was not a sign of fear, and the way her hand cupped the back of his neck was not a show of objection.

  “Hmm, you may be right,” Blake said without turning. The chick led the guy further into the room.

  “But then again…” Aiden said.

  At the same time, waves of vibrant energy surged through Blake as he caught a decadent and familiar scent. It rushed through him like water through a hydrant until he was drowning in her scent.

  Naomi.

  Immediately his gaze whipped to the entryway where he’d detected his true mate. His nose never lied to him, but this was unbelievable. Why in the hell would she come back here? It was too dangerous.

  The cone lights gave her evenly tanned skin an ethereal glow. Her hair, the color of dark burnt henna, fell down her back and over her shoulders. Her face was devoid of makeup, but she was stunning without it. Always had been. She wore a leather one-piece tube skirt that hugged her body and a fitted shrug over her shoulders to match.

  Blake’s heartbeat quickened and his groin began to expand. Shit! It had been weeks since he spent hours lying with her, imagining a future in peace with her.

  “Dude in the white cap has zeroed in,” Aiden mumbled, putting a palm on Blake’s forearm in warning. “What the fuck? Isn’t that Naomi?”

  “Yeah, it is.” Blake stood and folded into the crowd, heading toward her. Blake ignored the cautionary tone in his cousin’s voice when Aiden instructed him to wait. Yeah, he would wait all right. He wasn’t about to stand by and let another man ogle or hook up with his mate.

  Everyone seemed to want to mingle at the same time, and suddenly the path he chose swarmed with bodies. He pushed against the grain instead of with it because most attendees weren’t leaving. This was prime time for this type of nightclub. He fought hard to keep up with Naomi’s scent, but the mix of cigar smoke and pheromones seeping with alcohol, sweat, and cheap cologne
didn’t make it easy.

  Apparently, Naomi was on a mission that night because when he made it to the other side of the room near the entryway, she was nowhere in sight. He gritted his teeth and growled under his breath. Yet he still smelled her. She hadn’t left the building.

  Remembering what Aiden said, Blake spun, looking for his target—the man in the white cap. Blake’s heart fell to his stomach when he spotted Naomi heading toward the back edge of the club with the guy in the white cap trailing behind her. The guy seemed determined in his pursuit. Blake’s nostrils flared and he made a beeline toward them, this time intent on not losing sight of her. He plotted what he would do to the unsuspecting guy in the white cap if he so much as laid a hand on Naomi. What the fuck was going on in this club? What connection did Naomi have to it?

  Naomi turned a corner just before reaching a private corner of the club, and the dude in the white cap did the same. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe dude in the white cap was seeking a woman, one who wasn’t an exotic dancer. Only he was in for a surprise tonight. He singled out the wrong woman.

  Blake growled under his breath. Naomi belonged to him.

  Blake’s boots trudged against the floor as he clenched his fists. At this point he could care less if they heard him coming. He needed to get to the bottom of this. He needed to know. Did Naomi push him away all these years so she could enjoy an occasional fling on the side? This wasn’t like Naomi. She’d told him her heart belonged to him and no other man could compete. It was her duty to her Pack and loyalty to her family that pulled her in the opposite direction of where he wanted her to be—with him.

  Blake stopped short of turning the corner when he heard Naomi’s voice followed by a man’s. He bit into his bottom lip and pressed against the wall. He sent a mental call to his Wolf Spirit, and a warm rippled raced up his spine as the powers came alive. He shut out the music, laughter, and commotion and focused on the voice of his mate.

  “What have you got to offer?” the dude asked.

  “What have you got to provide?” Naomi replied.

  “Where is your posse, wolf?” the dude asked.

  Blake’s stomached hardened. The dude knew Naomi was a wolf. That meant one thing—either he was a wolf, Other, or a trusted human informant. If the guy was a wolf, Blake would have detected the Spirit by now. All wolf-shifters knew their brethren, whether it was by touch, scent, or sight. Something about this dude didn’t smell right. And the scent he gave off couldn’t have belonged to a normal human.

  “You’re the one who followed me from one end of this club to the next,” Naomi replied. “Does it look like I have a posse?”

  “Making sure.” The dude’s voice was scratchy but unfamiliar. “I wouldn’t want any problems.”

  “You told me you had the anecdote to whatever was ailing me.” Naomi’s voice sounded strained and adamant. “Now get to it.”

  “Fuck,” Blake pressed his lips together again. What was she doing? Was she insane?

  “What’s your affiliation?” the dude asked.

  “What does it matter?”

  There was a deep chuckle. “You look like a member of the lesser Pack. Cool. This will be easy.”

  “Lesser?” Naomi’s tone of voice had suddenly gone sour.

  “Yeah, lesser. Arnou. But don’t worry. Once I rid you of this disease, you’ll be free of this grimy affiliation.”

  Blake’s back straightened as he put two and three together. Fuck, he was right. Dude in the white cap was up to no good. Blake had heard enough, and from the chitchat he concluded this dude was one of the Spirit wreckers about which Devin warned the Pack. The same Spirit wreckers they’d been given the go-ahead to hunt.

  Naomi’s scent edged closer as she and the man merged into the hallway. “This way.” Naomi forced her intruder in the opposite direction just as the dude came into full view. “This needs to be done in private.”

  “Very well.” The dude in the white cap grabbed Naomi’s right forearm.

  Blake slipped his hand under the back of his shirt and gripped the handle of his combat knife. He was two seconds away from extracting it when Naomi turned her head to the side and glanced backward. She slipped her left hand behind her back and began using a combination of sign language and Elite cryptic codes.

  Stall. Two minutes.

  Alley. Right.

  Capture. I’ll give the sign.

  Don’t kill.

  Naomi was telling him to follow after two minutes, that she would lure him into the right alley and she wanted the dude captured alive on her order.

  Did she know he was eavesdropping all this time?

  Just as his next question crossed his mind, she signed another cryptic code.

  I can handle. I’ll give the sign.

  They turned the next corner and she was out of sight and earshot, but Blake held her scent.

  Blake looked at his watch and noted the small hand. Two minutes. That’s all he was giving her. He didn’t doubt Naomi could handle herself in a situation like this, but he had a bad feeling about the Spirit wrecker with her.

  One minute into it, Blake headed down the hall after her. Aiden rushed toward him, his hand gripping the revolver under his trench coat. His eyes were wild with paranoia. “Wasn’t that Naomi? Headed out with the Spirit wrecker.”

  “That’s a positive,” Blake said as they made haste toward the main area. “She knows. It looks as though she discovered his intentions the same time we did. She’s requested an assist to capture. Watch for her sign.”

  “Gotcha.” Aiden nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m headed out the back way. I’ll get two more men to cover the alley.”

  Blake’s heart rate increased and his heart skipped several beats as he got closer to the front entrance. He decided to acquiesce to her commands. If he acted loosely or out of turn because he wanted her out of harm’s way, he could fuck things up. One false move could cost a life. Nonetheless, they were trained for this. Although he’d removed himself from Arnou’s command and Elite society years ago, he remembered the protocol when it came to a mission that called for a live capture. And Naomi…Her father had been an Enforcer. Her brother was the leader of an Elite crew, so there was no doubt every protocol had been with her since she was young enough to learn them. And as a future Elite, it wasn’t odd to begin training as early as the age of ten as Naomi had done. She was a master of Elite protocol; he was certain of it.

  The crisp wind beat against his face as he burst through the doors. The loud bass from the club music followed him out the door. The night folded upon him as he let the animal within him take over. A complete shift wasn’t necessary, but when it came to hunting and capturing, Blake’s wolf was best at that.

  Blake’s feet fell heavy on the gravel as he followed Naomi’s scent through the parking lot. It was going to be hard to capture this dude alive when all he wanted to do was beat the crap out of him for thinking of stripping his mate of something so sacred. It should be against the law, and lethal punishment should be handed to anyone who practiced it.

  There was a scuffle in the alleyway just as Blake reached it.

  *

  “How is it done? Does it hurt?” Naomi asked the man in the white cap.

  The man’s eyes darkened. “Of course it doesn’t. I can moderate the pain by fucking you at the same time.”

  Naomi swallowed her disgust. “I’d rather get it over quickly. How’s that done?” She tried not to sound too eager, but she scented Blake around the corner. His pheromones were muted. The black smoke from a paper mill was ahead, but what little scent did carry to her was laced with fury. She was more worried Blake would barge in and end this man’s life before she got the information she wanted.

  “If I told you, I’d have to go on and kill you.” His traitorous eyes taunted her.

  “What if I told you I won’t agree to anything unless you tell me how you plan to strip my Wolf Spirit from my body?”

  Something snapped on the ground a coupl
e yards from them. The veins on Mr. White Cap’s throat corded as he lifted his gaze, trying to find the source of the sound. He grabbed her arm. “Let’s move. Somewhere quieter.”

  The man must have sensed they were being watched. Damn, she should have told Blake to stand back a little further. And what was more, she smelled at least three wolves within a one-yard radius.

  “No.” She shrugged Mr. White Cap’s hand off her arm. “Do it right here. I’m not going anywhere else with you until you do it. Now.”

  Mr. White Cap turned, the corner of his lips twitching. He snatched her leather collar and jerked her up, causing a hot burning sensation across her shoulder. “I’m calling the shots here. Not you.”

  Accepting pain wasn’t her style, at least not when she didn’t ask for it.

  “Bastard.” Naomi slapped his hand away and shoved him against the wall hard. When he rushed toward her, she swung her boot high into the air and struck him viciously across the jaw.

  Mr. White Cap trumped her next move, raging toward her before she could sidestep him. Despite the bloody mouth he sported after he took her kick, he barred his teeth, slammed his palm hard into her throat, wrapped his fingers around her neck, and squeezed. He held her firmly to the cinder block wall with his rigid body. “Listen, little tramp, you wi—”

  The hand was yanked from her throat.

  Blake tackled Mr. White Cap to the ground, and they wrestled to gain the upper hand. They rolled several feet away, and a knife clanked on the gravel beside them. Both of them fought to reach it. The rapid succession of movements in front of her caused her to blink once and then twice.

  Naomi’s stomach hardened and she almost purged her last meal. She realized she hadn’t taken a breath since the man had squeezed her throat, and she doubled over, heaving deeply. She snatched her blade from the inside of her boots but when she stood up, Blake and Mr. White Cap were engaged in a fistfight.

  A hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her back. She almost swung her knife before she recognized a familiar face. It was Aiden Price, Blake’s closest cousin. A man she hadn’t seen in years. Her heart warmed.