Wolf Marked (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 1)

by Veronica Douglas

  Laurel took my hand and smiled. Her signature wrapped around me, calming my nerves. “You’ve got a lot of raw power, my dear. But it’s not dark, I promise you that. It will be a long time before you can control your magic and create things, but for now, it might just manifest in little uncontrolled bursts, like electric shocks.”

  I gaped, not sure how to feel.

  Remnants of my magic still prickled my skin like water dripping from an icicle. Having it ripped from my hand felt unnatural and was frankly terrifying. But suddenly, I felt alert to the world around me in a way I had never been before.

  My skin was sensitive, and I could feel Casey and Laurel’s signatures permeating the room. It was like a part of me I didn’t know existed was awake and staring at the world for the first time.

  Fireballs and floating brooms.

  My stomach knotted. Why had my parents hidden this from me? Was there something wrong with my magic?

  Jaxson had called sorcery the dark arts, black magic.

  Was that what was inside of me?

  Over the next hour, Laurel peppered me with questions about my childhood and my parents. I think she was trying to get my mind off of what had happened with the freaky orb that had probably nearly killed me. Luckily, reminiscing about the happy times in my life did clear my mind and raise my spirits.

  Finally, Laurel gave me a coy glance out of the corner of her eye. “With all this excitement, you haven’t mentioned what brought you to us so suddenly, after all these years.”

  There it was. The bombshell, ready to detonate. She’d left the question lying in wait, like a crocodile on the riverbank, and I didn’t really have a plan to get out of its jaws.

  How would they feel about me if they knew I had trouble on my heels?

  I pushed that thought down. I was here for answers. About myself, about my parents, and about why someone might be after me. If it had something to do with the LaSalles, then they would be the ones to ask.

  “I was attacked by werewolves. My father gave my godmother the note I brought to you, saying that if anyone ever came looking for me, I should seek you out.”

  Casey jumped to his feet. “Werewolves? Are you kidding me? Where?”

  He’d been remarkably quiet this whole time, and now he looked like he wanted to step into a fighting ring.

  Laurel motioned for Casey to sit, but her eyes blazed. No one had ever looked that intensely at me, ever. It was like she was trying to bore into my mind, kind of like Jaxson did. “Explain. Everything.”

  Somewhat shakily, I laid out the facts for them. Laurel’s eyes dilated when I said that I’d been targeted, and both of them stiffened when I mentioned Jaxson. She folded her hands and leaned forward. “Jaxson Laurent was investigating your attack? Don’t be fooled by his handsome appearance. He’s lethal. Are you aware that—”

  “He’s a werewolf?” I interrupted. “The alpha—whatever that means. I found out this morning. After we went out to dinner at Eclipse.” I blushed, suddenly embarrassed.

  Casey’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You went on a date with the Dockside alpha? Are you crazy?”

  I slapped my hands on the table. “I didn’t know what he was or that werewolves even existed! That any of this existed!”

  Casey wandered over to the sidebar and poured himself a whiskey. “Yeah, okay. Well, hopefully you didn’t tell him who you were or that you’re related to us.”

  “I did. My car broke down on the bridge. He had it towed to a shop and bought me dinner at some place called Eclipse. Then he told me about werewolves.”

  Casey’s eyes ballooned. “Holy shit. Do you realize that Eclipse is one of the pack’s main headquarters? A third of the crowd was probably werewolves. I’m surprised they didn’t eat you alive.”

  My voice spiked an octave. “They eat people?”

  Laurel put a hand on my arm. “Casey means metaphorically. They hate our family.”

  “I gathered. Why? He said you were dangerous and told me not to contact you.”

  They’re criminals. They deal in illegal arms and materials.

  Laurel pressed her lips together. “Of course, we’re dangerous. Casey can throw fireballs. I’m one of the most lethal people in Magic Side. It doesn’t mean that I’m going to dump my long-lost niece in the lake the moment she shows up. He was using your ignorance about this place to manipulate you.”

  I had suspected as much, but for some reason, Jaxson’s warning wouldn’t quite go away.

  “Considering Jaxson owns Eclipse, I hope he didn’t make you pick up the tab,” said Casey, snickering. I sat back against the couch and put my head in my hands, and Casey passed me a whiskey. “Welcome to Magic Side. Be prepared to get dicked over by wolves.”

  It was a little early to be drinking, but I took a sip anyway and let the cool liquid heat my throat, while Laurel stared across the room, lines of fury fixed on her face.

  Had Jaxson been laughing at me the whole time? Of course he had.

  And of course the cop would recommend his restaurant. He’d played with my obvious ignorance of magic and werewolves.

  “He was toying with me,” I muttered.

  Casey swirled his whiskey, then clinked his glass against mine. “Yep. They like to do that shit. I’m betting he neglected to explain why your car stalled out.”

  “I’ve got transmission problems. I’m just lucky it got me as far as it did.”

  “Nah. He let you believe that. The bridge is enchanted with a spell that knocks out the engine and electrical systems of any car that drives over it unless it’s got a thing called a magic regulator installed. It’s supposed to help keep normal people out, though since they can’t even see the island, I don’t know what the big deal is. The wolves run the bridges and give a cut to the mages who maintain the spells. It’s a total racket.”

  I set my glass on the table so I wasn’t tempted to throw it across the room. “So my car didn’t break down?”

  Casey shook his head. “It just needs a doohickey installed. But that’s wolves for you. They like to shake your hand with their right while they dig their claws in with the left.”

  “He had it towed to Savage Body, which—”

  Casey rapped his knuckles on the chair. “Belongs to the pack. He’s got your car hostage.”

  I rocketed to my feet. That bastard.

  He’d paid off Randy at the auto body shop to trap me in Belmont. I’d stolen his keys, and now he’d stolen my car right from under my nose.

  “You’re leaving?” Aunt Laurel rose in surprise. “You just got here!"

  I tightened my fists and headed toward the door. “I’m going back to Dockside to skin me a werewolf king.”

  14

  Jaxson

  The loading cranes whirred and ground as they lifted the containers off the ship and onto the dock.

  I shouted at my brother-in-law, Billy, over the noise. “Everything accounted for?”

  He held up the manifest. “So far. Still waiting on that last batch of parts.”

  We’d have to unload those discreetly. They’d been procured by the lower Michigan pack, and we had to make them disappear. Thankfully, Magic Side had a number of vendors that were happy to overlook a few details for a better deal.

  “Good.”

  He stepped close. “I’ve been watching what’s going on here. You’ve been distracted by that LaSalle woman. Unfocused.”

  I gave a warning growl. “Thankfully, I know I can rely on you.”

  “Always have. But people are beginning to talk, Jaxson. You should distance yourself from her.”

  “Not until I can clear the pack’s name. Getting tied to these abductions and murders affects our business, not just our pride.”

  “I know. But you should get that girl out of town. None of us like having her around.”

  I’d told my inner circle who Savannah was related to, thinking they could handle it. Clearly not.

  I gave a laugh that was a half growl. “That might be dif
ficult. The woman isn’t compliant.”

  “Then get her to comply and get rid of her.”

  My wolf snarled in my chest. I kept it in check, but I let myself partially shift—slowly and deliberately. Hair slowly covered the backs of my hands as my claws and canines emerged, millimeter by millimeter. A slow shift demonstrated control, power, and mastery of the beast within, and not many could manage it.

  Billy inched back but froze under my glare.

  I stepped closer, looming over him. He was big. I was bigger. “Savannah Caine is mine. No one touches her. She’s staying here, and there will be no further discussion until the pack’s name is clear. Then we can figure out what to do with her.”

  He bared his teeth but nodded. He ran the docks. I ran the pack.

  I retracted my claws and headed to the on-site manager’s office. Halfway there, my phone vibrated.

  Savannah. Speak of the devil. I’d called a half-dozen times, and my irritation flared.

  The moment she’d left her motel room, she’d gone off script, ditched our meeting, and headed south, presumably to meet with her family—though my people couldn’t follow her all the way into LaSalle territory. It was the one thing I’d implored her not to do.

  What was it that compelled the woman to do the exact opposite of everything I asked?

  I stepped into the dock manager’s office, pulled off my safety hat, and picked up. “Ms. Caine. You were supposed to meet with the sketch artist. Instead, you headed to the Indies after I explicitly warned you against it. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Avoiding werewolves. How is it that you conveniently forgot to mention you were the damned alpha when you were scaring me out of my mind last night?” Her voice was terse and bitter.

  Wasn’t it obvious? “Can you blame me? You would have run screaming out of the building. You were barely holding on as it was.”

  She exhaled noisily. “I deserved to know what I was walking into. You’re playing games with information, Jaxson. Like, for instance, you failed to mention that the only thing my car needed was a magic regulator, and it would run just fine. The funny thing is, I’m over at Savage Body, and your goons won’t release my vehicle.”

  “It needs repairs. You can have it back once you’ve finished helping me.”

  At least she was in pack territory again. I just had to find a way to keep her there, which was unlikely, considering her current mood.

  “Why do I have a feeling one sketch isn’t going to be enough? What else are you expecting?”

  “It’s a start.”

  “Here’s the deal: I’ll make the sketch, but you get your ass over here and give my car back.”

  She hung up, and I tried to call her. No response.

  I jammed my phone in my pocket and cursed violently enough that the clerk in the back corner of the office whimpered.

  Storming out of the dockyard, I jumped into my ride, and five minutes later, I pulled up outside Savage Body. I slammed the door of the truck and grabbed the nearest mechanic. “Where is she?”

  “In the office,” he said, wide-eyed, “drawing something.”

  I pushed through the door and waved the manager out. There sat the obstinate LaSalle woman, bent over a sheet of paper on a table, sketching furiously with a stubby pencil. I could almost feel her anger with each stroke. Her energy was vibrant and alive. Something about her called to me—her fierce focus, or maybe her reckless resistance. I couldn’t stand her stubbornness, couldn’t stand the reminder of what had happened to my sister, but being around her was like a drug.

  Then she broke the spell by speaking.

  “You have some explaining to do, Laurent.” She didn’t even look up. “I was attacked by werewolves, and the very first thing you did when you brought me into the city was take me to the damn werewolf den.”

  I growled. “Because it was safe. You were safe with us. Yet the first thing you did this morning was prance over to the LaSalles. I made it clear that they’re extremely dangerous, and I warned you to stay away.”

  “Yeah, so did others. The thing is, the LaSalles didn’t spend all evening playing mind games and lying to me.”

  So she had gone to them.

  I put my hands on the table. “If the LaSalles are talking, they’re lying. You don’t know them or this city. Like sugar, they’ll rot you from the inside out.”

  “Funny. They said similar things about you. So who am I to believe? My own family, or one of these?”

  She flipped the paper around and shoved it across the small table so I could see.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Fates, could she draw.

  Savannah’s illustration depicted a rough, tattooed woman, partially shifted. Her muscles were tensed, and her arm had retracted as if she was going to rip free of the page with her long, savage claws. Her lips were pulled back in a contemptuous snarl, revealing her erupting canines.

  I let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. I didn’t recognize the she-wolf, so she wasn’t from our pack.

  Picking up the paper, I studied the details. Somehow, working with just pencil, Savannah had even captured the glow of the she-wolf’s eyes and the rage in the contours of her face. It was so lifelike—and filled with hate.

  “It’s extraordinary.” I met Savannah’s eyes. “This is far better than the sketch artist could have done.”

  “It’s what I saw.” She scowled, but I could smell her pride simmering beneath the surface.

  My wolf shoved against my chest, excited by the scent. I glared at the drawing. Was this how Savannah saw us? Saw me? Neither human nor monster, but a savage half-beast, forged from violence and hatred?

  I laid the extraordinary illustration back down. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. This is not what or how we are.”

  “I figured that much, or I would’ve been dead already. You didn’t need to lure me to a bar. If you wanted to take me, you could have done it anytime.”

  Heat shot through me, and my wolf shifted. “Is that so?”

  The words left my mouth without thinking and carried a tone that I hadn’t intended. I could sense her surprise, and beneath that, the sweet scent of her arousal. It began to do inappropriate things to me.

  Her cheeks flushed, and she put her hand on her mouth. “That came out wrong, I mean that if—"

  “You never mentioned this tattoo,” I said, and pointed to the woman’s neck, trying to cover for the both of us. I shouldn’t have said that sort of thing to a LaSalle, nor felt this way. It was wrong and dangerous.

  The tattoo was a two-headed wolf, small, and just above the collar bone.

  Savannah grabbed the page and inspected it. “I didn’t really notice it much while they were trying to murder me. But I saw her in the bar earlier. The tat kind of came back to me. Does it mean something?”

  “I’m not sure. Did the other man have one, too?”

  Dane hadn’t had a tattoo like that when I’d kicked him out of the pack, so maybe it was a sign he’d joined a gang or something. The problem was that Dane was wolfborn and turned into a wolf at death. There was no way to inspect his human form for tattoos. They didn’t transfer.

  Savannah bit her lip. “I can’t remember if he had one. Let me draw.”

  The flowing lines of her sketch pulled me in: quick bursts of pencil, jagged marks, the scratch of shading. Soon, I found myself standing next to her, breathing in the heady aroma of her tangerine signature. It was like standing in warm sunlight.

  There was something about this woman beneath the fire and anger and stubbornness.

  She leaned slightly against my side, and then froze. Her cheeks reddened, and her pencil quivered. “You’re breathing on me, wolf man.”

  I stiffened, chagrined, while my inner wolf howled with humiliating laughter.

  “Do you have to draw it all? It’s taking forever,” I snapped.

  Her partially completed illustration revealed a huge, tattooed man lunging forward in the high beams of a car.


  “Yes.” Savannah pointed with her pencil. “Sit. Over there. I don’t need you looming over my shoulder. He’s got a lot of tattoos. They’re hard to remember.”

  Sit? Did she just command me like a dog?

  My jaw ticked, and I leaned against the wall, staring out the window.

  Her talent was remarkable. She could find work as an illustrator in the city, even without magic. I studied her out of the corner of my eye. Pencil in hand, she seemed calm for the first time since I’d met her, as if the images provided catharsis, or the sketching was meditation.

  I smiled, pleased.

  Finally, she slid the paper across the table and jabbed her finger down. “There, on his neck. I hadn’t really noticed it. There are so many other tattoos, it blended in.”

  I rubbed the stubble of my chin. The double-headed wolf, same design, same location. Savannah’s recall was amazing. “They both had one. It must be important, but I don’t know exactly what it might indicate.”

  She leaned back and crossed her arms. “But you know something?”

  I shifted the paper in my hands, uncertain how much to say. “There are dark legends in werewolf lore and religion of a twin-headed wolf—stories that were told to haunt the moonless nights. Maybe it’s a reference to that.”

  Savannah tensed. I could smell the dread creeping across her.

  I took both illustrations. “This is excellent work. I’ll circulate it to all the packs around the Great Lakes and see if we get a hit. Also, I’ll have someone look into those tattoos.”

  She stood. “Right. You’ve got what you wanted. Now give me my car back. I’ll pay for the magic regulator, but I didn’t authorize any other work.”

  I shook my head. “Not a chance. Your car needs help. It’s on the verge of death and not safe to drive. I can’t believe it made it here. It’s like a zombie, shambling down the road.”

  She tensed and looked up. “Wait. Are zombies real?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want my car back.”

  “When this is over, I’ll return it to you better than new.”

  Her eyes flashed. “You’re holding my car hostage, just so I’ll cooperate?”