Dire Wolves of London Box Set

by Carina Wilder

  None of them had so much as fired off a shot.

  “How are things?” asked Cillian.

  “Uneventful, truth be told,” Phair replied. “This agency isn’t exactly a well-organized militia. Roth and Laird are downstairs with a few other pack members, freeing the prisoners. I’ve heard that there are a few Grizzlies down there. I’ll see to it that they know who to thank for their liberation.”

  “Thank you. I’m looking forward to strengthening our alliance,” Cillian replied, shaking his hand. “Listen, you’ve kept your end of the bargain, Phair, and we’ll be keeping ours. Come by our place on Monday, and you have my word that you’ll get what you asked for.”

  “Will do.”

  When the two Dire Wolf shifters had moved away to help interrogate a few of the guards, Phair wandered over to Sinead. “We haven’t been properly introduced,” he said, reaching out to offer his hand.

  “Sinead,” she said, shaking it. “I’m Brigg and Cillian’s mate.”

  Phair nodded approval. “Ah, I see. They’re very good men, those two. You chose well.”

  “Yes,” she said, looking across the room towards her two lovers, a broad smile stretching over her lips. “I know.”

  Wolf’s Bane

  Dire Wolves of London, Book 3

  Introduction

  A tenuous alliance has formed between shifter sects. The most powerful have united at last to fight off their new foe: humans.

  Shifters have been ordered to remain wary of them. Stay away, the leaders say. Trust no one.

  But when two members of the Dire Wolf Pack meet a human woman, sparks begin to fly. Will they defy their Alpha and make her their mate, or force themselves to shatter a bond that's stronger than anything they've ever felt?

  Prologue

  Phair sat on the long metal table, his fingers grasping its edge so hard that his knuckles had gone bone-white.

  “Some Grizzly shifter you are,” he muttered to himself under his breath. “Terrified of a little anaesthetic. Scared of needles. You’re a sodding pussy, that’s what you are.”

  In an attempt to distract himself from the pending unpleasantness, he looked around the room, noting the impossibly high book shelves that lined the walls and the seemingly infinite display of leather-bound tomes. Funny. He’d assumed that the procedure would take place in a Genetics lab. But instead, the shifter somehow found himself in the country estate of a Dire Wolf shifter.

  Well, a library was more warm and welcoming than a sterile chamber in a sodding hospital, at least. If he died today, his corpse would be surrounded by the likes of Shakespeare and Flaubert. Surely that had to count for something.

  “You don’t have to go under, you know,” said a voice from somewhere behind him. He turned to see Emma Danforth, dressed in her pristine lab coat, entering the room. “It’s your choice.”

  Emma was the mate to the Trekilling Dire Wolf Pack’s two leaders, Roth and Laird. But perhaps even more importantly, she was the geneticist who was about to inject Phair with the daunting cocktail that he’d requested some days ago.

  Roth stood in the library’s doorway, leaning against the left side of the frame. No doubt he’d followed Emma in order to protect her from the big bad Bear shifter.

  “She’s right,” he said. “Of course, if you don’t choose sedation, I’ll need to summon a few other Dire Wolf shifters to keep an eye on my mate while we await the results of the procedure, just in case.”

  Translation: You’re a scary fucker and I won’t risk having you kill my lover with your giant-bear claws, or bear teeth, or whatever the hell is about to burst out of you, you massive freak.

  The geneticist, who didn’t seem afraid of Phair, now stood at the end of the metal table, hair pulled back, latex gloves on her hands. She held a mask in one hand—a mask that she’d use to knock him out in a minute, provided that he gave his blessing.

  “Phair? Do you know what you want yet?” she asked, her tone slightly sheepish. No doubt she’d figured out how conflicted he felt about this whole thing and was reluctant to push him.

  “I’ll do whatever you think is best, Emma,” he replied, fixing his eyes on hers in an attempt at sounding calm and relaxed. “If you think putting me under is a good idea, I’ll accept it—risks or not.”

  “All right. Well, I do recommend it,” she said. “Given that we’ve never done this before, it seems foolish not to take all necessary precautions.”

  “Of course. I get it.” Phair shot her a quick, nervous smile as he eyed the vial of red liquid that sat behind her on an antique desk. “Listen—tell me again what you’re injecting me with, and maybe I’ll feel better about the whole thing. I mean, I know I asked for it, but given that I’m in a bit of a panic right now, I sort of want to know what’s going to be swimming through my bloodstream.”

  Emma laughed. “It’s a liberal dose of a genetically modified compound that I developed in my lab,” she said, turning to reach for the vial. “Nothing dangerous, I promise you. Just…a little unpredictable, perhaps. In layman’s terms, I’ve taken blood from two of the most powerful shifters in England, blended it, extracted its significant components, and am now giving it to you in the hopes of turning you into a demigod. Call it Amazing Juice or Awesome Sauce, if you like. That’s sort of what it is.”

  “All right. Awesome Sauce. That sounds like something properly appealing,” said Phair, rubbing his hands together eagerly. He was still trying to convince himself that this wasn’t an insane idea. “Well, I’ve always wanted to be a demigod. Who knew it could be so easy?”

  “It should be easy, I hope,” Emma replied. “The truth is, there’s no telling what might happen when the compound reaches your bloodstream. Given that you’re a shifter, your body might react violently. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll feel a little strange, at least. Probably a bit sore, as well. Again, it’s our first time. There are always little glitches to take into account.”

  “So,” sighed Phair, “What you’re telling me is that I’m a massive, potentially dangerous guinea pig who has no real idea what he’s in for.”

  “A massive guinea pig who might come back psychotic and physically aggressive, yeah,” said Roth, striding over to the table. “An Incredible Hulk with fangs and fur, if you will. But the plan is to have you come back as a very strong version of yourself, and your inner beast even more so. He will be a Béorn, like your ancestors were. The largest bears who ever lived on this planet.”

  “Again, I like the sound of that,” Phair said, swinging his legs up onto the table and lying down, trying to relax his back into the hard stainless steel. “Well then, do your worst, Doctor Danforth.” He turned his head to face Emma. “You know what? I nearly forgot—I do have one last request.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, leaning forward to look into his eyes.

  He reached into his right jeans pocket and pulled out a folded note, which he handed to her. “Let’s just say that I want you—both of you—to have my pre-emptive forgiveness,” he said, moving his eyes towards Roth. “If I should die, give this to a Grizzly shifter—someone you trust at least a little bit. As you know, my kind has been frequenting the Underground Club lately, now that the task force is disbanded. They’ll be easy to spot.”

  “Not that you’re likely to die,” Roth said solemnly, “but what does the note say?”

  “It’s my sworn statement that this whole procedure was performed at my request. That I know the risks, that I don’t blame anyone in the Pack if it goes awry and turns me inside out, or mad, or just dead—and neither should any Grizzly shifter. It states that the Guild and the Dire Wolves are my allies, and allies to all shifters. Basically it’s my way of saying Can’t we all just get along?”

  “It’s very kind of you to give this to us,” Emma said, eyeing the folded note. “But I have to ask, how will they know it’s from you? Grizzlies don’t exactly trust us as far as they can throw us, and the feeling is generally mutual, as you know. They’d probab
ly accuse us of making it up.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m too cynical not to have taken precautions. Unfold it. Take a look.”

  Emma did as Phair suggested, letting out a laugh when she saw what he’d done. When she’d read it, she held the paper up for Roth to see.

  Phair knew perfectly well what she found so amusing. Not only had he hand-scrawled the note in its entirety; he’d signed the page with an inked paw print from his Grizzly.

  “Took me hours to get the ink off my paw,” he said.

  “I’ll bet. Well, it’s a good job that you did it when you had the chance,” Emma replied. “Soon your paw prints will likely be bigger than most sheets of paper. Larger than any creature’s on the planet, in fact. Unless you count elephants’ feet as paws, which I don’t.”

  Phair grinned, knowing that she was right about his potential size. If all went well, he would mark the return of an extinct species, one that had once ruled Britain alongside the Dragons and the great Wolves of legend. He would be the only Béorn in existence. It was a great honour, to be sure. He’d be a walking throwback to another time, another place. A relic of history. A living legend.

  If all went well.

  “It’s a pretty huge deal,” he said, pressing his head back and waiting while the geneticist secured his wrists and ankles with buckled leather straps. “I want you both to know that I don’t take this privilege for granted. I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

  “I’m glad. But for now, all I want is for you to relax,” Emma said, leaning over him again, a reassuring smile on her face that seemed to say I’m precisely 78% sure that this will work. “We’re just about to start.”

  “Wait,” said Roth, drawing Phair’s gaze before Emma had a chance to set the procedure in motion. He pressed one hand to the table, the other to Phair’s shoulder. It was a strangely intimate act; the Alpha wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely sort. “Look, I know now’s not the best time for this, Phair, but on behalf of the Trekilling Pack and the service you’ve rendered us on more than one occasion, I want to invite you to join.”

  “Join your Dire Wolf Pack?” he replied. “Are you serious? You do know that I’m a Grizzly, don’t you?”

  “Not a mere Grizzly for long,” Roth replied, smiling. “It would be an honour to have you.”

  “I imagine this is a largely symbolic gesture.”

  “Symbolic, yes. But I take it seriously.”

  “In that case, I accept.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful and all,” said Emma, steering herself around the table so that she stood at the top of Phair’s head. “But if you two will forgive me, I’m going to get moving. I’m eager to turn this man into a terrifying behemoth.”

  The last thing Phair remembered was the mask making its way over his face as her voice guided him towards slumber. Emma was still speaking, her words tumbling through his mind, but none of them stuck. She could have been telling him to count sheep, to say the alphabet backwards, to tell her his name, but he had no clue. The Grizzly shifter’s mind had already become a thick fog of tangled dreams, hopes and fears.

  The last thought that went through his head was of Emma, Roth, and their other mate, Laird. Of what it must be like for two men to take one woman as their lover. “Three of you, you’re all in one relationship,” he murmured. “The Ritual…the Ritual…someday, maybe I’ll find my own…”

  With that, the last breath of consciousness left him.

  Chapter 1

  One Month Later

  Thursday March 22

  By midday, the Syndicate’s Tower cast a long, dark shadow over nearby row houses and modern condominium buildings at London’s core. Four enormous round windows, the remnants of the clock faces that had once graced the walls just below its peak, peered out from its summit like the eyes of a sentinel watching over the city.

  The secret organization, oddly enough, had hidden itself in plain sight at London’s heart. An almost perfect vantage point for keeping an eye on would-be criminals.

  Phair had known of the existence of the Syndicate for some months, but today marked the first time he’d been invited to their headquarters. From what he understood, it consisted mostly of a particularly gifted group of humans known as Hunters. Highly skilled investigators of sorts, tasked with finding—and sometimes taking down—London’s more shady residents, in particular those who threatened to do harm to shifters.

  But why Phair, of all people, was now making his way up to the top floor of the tower remained a mystery, at least to him. He wasn’t a Guild member or a Hunter, and he was a Pack member in title only. He’d told himself a hundred times that Roth’s invitation had been nothing more than a kindness bestowed upon him in a moment of vulnerability. Much as he respected the Alpha, he’d never taken the offer particularly seriously.

  Anyhow, this mysterious meeting might turn out to have nothing to do with the Pack. It was Bertie, the head of the Syndicate, who’d rung him this morning to ask him to attend.

  “You’ll find me on the tippy-top floor!” she’d chimed over the phone. “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to that handsome face of yours. I might have to bite it a little, you know, just to get a taste of your new and improved gorgeousness.” Bertie had never been one for subtlety.

  If any male shifter had so much as threatened to hint at the possibility of sex, she’d have been naked on the floor before anyone could say Holy shit, Bert.

  Phair, filled with a mix of dread and curiosity, should probably have taken the elevator up to her office. But in an attempt to delay his arrival as long as possible, he decided to jog up the numerous flights of stairs to the tower’s peak.

  As he eased his way upwards, he marvelled at how easy the climb was. The procedure a month earlier had gone remarkably well. He hadn’t had the predicted toxic reaction to the solution that Emma had created; in fact, if anything, the results had been quite the opposite. After a few days’ recovery, he’d found himself feeling incredible. No aches, no pains, except for a little muscular soreness. Which seemed normal, given that his body had gone through a somewhat incredible growth spurt.

  He’d always been a large man, but now? He was…well, bigger.

  Much bigger.

  One benefit of the change was that he’d found himself with no shortage of energy—and his déor was even more energetic than his human. The beast inside him would have happily run all day, if Phair had given him free rein. Apparently a Béorn, like a border collie, never tired. He needed very little sleep. At times Phair felt like he had an enormous hyperactive pet living inside his human body.

  But his human side hadn’t had quite such an easy time growing accustomed to his newfound strength. Occasionally he pulled at a door handle only to have it come off in his hand. Or he’d pat a dog and elicit a whimper or a low growl in retaliation for his overly aggressive touch. And there were a few other unfortunate consequences of the procedure, as well.

  For one thing, his temper had grown volatile, even more so than when he’d been a mere Grizzly shifter. Sudden bursts of rage frightened him enough that he’d never spoken to anyone—not even to Emma—about it.

  For another thing, he hadn’t touched a woman in over a month.

  Members of the opposite sex had occasionally approached him in pubs, of course, eager to buy him a pint and take him home, or even just for a jaunt to the back alley for a quickie. The fairer sex had always tended to be curious about his muscles, particularly what he looked like under his clothing. But now they looked at him as though he were a meat trophy. A delicious beefy prize to claim for their own—at least for an hour or two.

  Much as he’d been tempted to take up more than one offer of carnal bliss, he’d resisted every single time. For some reason, the one night stands that had once excited him had lost their appeal since the procedure. The truth was that he’d begun to crave intimacy in a way that he never had before.

  He needed something more, something deeper.

  Perhaps it was t
he animal inside him that made him crave intimacy. His Béorn, after all, had the blood of Dire Wolves inside him. The blood of those whose ancestors had taken part in the Ritual, the mating rite between two male shifters and one woman.

  Or maybe the simple truth was that the procedure had turned Phair into a lust-monster, as well as a gigantic beast.

  The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed a mate. Hell, he would have settled for a mere touch, if it came from the right woman. A kiss. Anything, really, to settle his inner animal down and assure him that she was out there somewhere. Because with every day that passed, the beast’s need grew.

  A Béorn in need was a dangerous creature.

  When Phair had nearly ascended all of what seemed like six thousand steps, he let out a whistle to alert Bertie of his proximity to the top level. Best to warn the Syndicate’s leader that he was near. He’d seen more than once how excited she became in his presence. For all he knew, she might be standing in her office naked, waiting with bated breath for his arrival.

  He shuddered at the thought. As much as he enjoyed her quirks, and much as he could have used a roll in the hay with a potential mate, he had no great desire to see Bertie—of all people—in all her bare-arsed splendour. She was more randy aunt than potential lover. Adorable, outrageous and matronly.

  Not exactly destined mate material.

  “Come on up, big bear,” sang her familiar voice when he’d whistled a second time. “I can’t wait to see you!”

  Oh, piss. She sounded way too…stimulated.

  Stimulated Bertie was never good.