by Cecy Robson
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“There’s a dark witch causing trouble in Lesotho,” Dad replies, continuing his slow strokes over Mom’s hair.
I reach for more bacon and eggs. “Where’s that?” I ask.
“Africa,” Mom replies. “It’s a territory known for diamond smuggling and dark magic.”
“Cue the witch,” I guess. Not all witches are dark. Last summer, I met Bellissima, one of the strongest light witches of her kind, along with her daughter, Guinevere, or was it Genevieve? It was something like that. They were okay. But dark witches really suck and give weres plenty of problems to chase.
As Guardians of the Earth, it’s our job to protect the unsuspecting human populace from things that hunt them. Those creatures that go bump in the night? We eat them.
I shove a forkful of eggs into my mouth and stab a few more pieces of bacon. “How’d you hear about the witch?” I ask.
“She’s protecting the diamond smugglers in the area,” Dad explains.
I feel my eyes darken and a growl build deep within me. “In exchange for what?”
Dad doesn’t blink. “Sacrifices, mainly human women and children.”
I look to Mom, not liking where this is headed. “The women are deeply oppressed throughout the region,” she explains. “When you find women fraught with worries of violence and struggling to feed their families, they tend to be more pure of heart and intent, and therefore easier to victimize. The children . . .” Mom straightens, passing her fingertips along the gray peppering Dad’s temple. “There’s nothing more sacred than a child’s soul.”
“Which makes the blood sacrifices she seeks more valuable. The purer the soul, the more power each kill will grant her,” I finish for her. They nod. “Can I go with you?”
“No,” Mom answers at the same time Dad says, “Maybe.”
I perk up, my inner wolf totally losing it. “I can go?”
Mom shoots Dad a reprimanding look. “Aric is almost of age, Eliza,” Dad gently reminds her. “He’s far surpassed seasoned weres in strength, ability, and cunning.”
Mom leaves Dad’s lap, taking the empty pan with her. “No,” she says.
Dad and I exchange glances. I know better than to speak up. Mom walks to the large porcelain sink and dumps the pan, gripping the edge. “Our world isn’t what it once was,” she says. “It’s changing in ways even the wisest among us never predicted, Aidan.”
Dad gets up slowly, briefly pausing behind her before his hands encircle her waist. He kisses her shoulder. “The world is changing,” he agrees. “But it’s our duty to maintain it, so good continues to prevail.”
“There are many weres across the globe now,” she reminds him. “Unlike generations ago, when our kind struggled to breed and flourish.” She looks up at Dad, her soft brown eyes pleading. “Request that another pack or Leader go in your place. I hate it when you hunt. I hate it when you leave me. Please, my love, don’t take our son, too.”
“All right,” he tells her.
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Don’t I get a say?” I don’t know who’s more bummed, me or my wolf.
Dad turns around, keeping Mom against him. “I need you here to protect your mother,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows at him. He grins and so does Mom. She’s almost sixty and Dad is seventy-five. Although they tried, they didn’t have me until late in life. That doesn’t mean either couldn’t wipe the floor with anyone who messed with them. And if I wasn’t around, Mom would be the one hunting alongside Dad, just as they did for years before I came along.
“Aric,” Dad says. “I’m not yet sure I’m going. There’s already a local pack assigned to track and kill the witch.” He looks at my mother. “But in the chance I go, I won’t upset your mother further by taking you along.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” I insist. “And if I’m with you, nothing will happen to us.”
I mean what I say. My dad is unstoppable. A king among weres and my hero.
Dad offers a lopsided smile. “Aric, your mother is worried enough.”
“I know, but—”
“Especially with all those females knocking on our door, seeking your company,” he interrupts.
I roll my eyes. The females I know are annoying at best, looking to get with me for all the wrong reasons. “I don’t even like them.”
Dad barks out a laugh. “Not yet. But you will, son. It’s just a matter of time.”
“I just hope it’s not any time soon,” Mom quietly adds. She’s still upset.
I rise, recognizing they need time. “Where you off to?” Dad asks.
“Hunting,” I reply, excited for our plans and that we finally get a few days off from school. “Liam swears he scented elk near Mount Elbert.”
Dad leads Mom forward, his fingers threaded in hers. “Is it just you and Liam?” he asks.
“No. Gemini is coming and so is Koda.”
Mom exchanges a worried glance with Dad. “How is Miakoda?” she asks.
I shrug. When it comes to Koda, I walk a fine line between betraying my friend and keeping things from my parents. For the most part, I’m allowed free rein. They trust me, and I want to keep things that way. So, I tell them just enough to stay true to my friend.
“Koda’s all right. He mostly stays at Liam’s. The other night, he was with Gem.”
Dad’s voice grows an edge. “Do I need to pay his father a visit?”
My gaze lowers to the floor to hide my growing resentment of Koda’s father. Except, resentment, anger, any emotion carries a scent my folks will recognize as easily as they take their next breath. It’s the reason weres are so good at sniffing out lies.
Koda’s relationship with his dad isn’t like mine. Where I’d take a spray of gold bullets to keep my parents safe, Koda would run the other way with tears of agony mixed with relief likely streaming down his face.
“Aric,” Dad says, his tone more severe. “Is Koda’s father hurting him or his mother?”
“No,” I answer truthfully. But only because Koda hasn’t been around to let him.
Dad is a pureblood and Leader, just like Mom and just like me. Dad is also our pack alpha, the one who oversees weres and their activity within his territory. As formidable as he is, he’s often tasked with solving matters outside our region that other weres can’t handle. But his responsibilities are first and foremost to his pack. The same pack Koda and his family belong to.
“Aric,” Dad says, this time more gently. “I’m only trying to help Koda and keep him and his family safe.”
“I know.” I meet my father square in the eyes, something most weres wouldn’t dare do. “I’ll try to talk to him today and see where he’s at.”
Dad nods, but he doesn’t appear any less concerned. I can’t blame him. Not after everything Koda’s been through.
“Tell Miakoda he always has a home with us,” Mom says.
“I will. Thanks, Mom.”
My wolf stiffens when I bend to hug her. We have company. I release her slowly and turn toward the front of the house, my excitement building when I hear the voices of my friends.
“They’re here,” I say. “Gotta go.”
“Be careful,” Mom says.
I grin. “I’m going hunting, Mom. What could happen?”
I glide down the steep incline on four paws, digging my claws into the thick forest bed to keep my balance. The weight of my three-hundred-pound wolf form leaves deep indentations in the soil. There wasn’t just one elk. There was a massive herd. We separated them as a pack, targeting the eldest and weakest, as nature demands.
The one I’m chasing stumbles down the ravine, his immense body crashing into the river bank and sending waves of muddy water to drench my face. I shake off the thick drops blinding me and hurtle forward. I’m almost on him, my excitement of snapping his neck and bringing home a feast propelling me faster.
I bare my teeth at the scen
t of his fear. Despite his weariness, he’s fighting the kill. I can respect him as my prey. That doesn’t mean I’ll let him go. My supernatural strength jets me faster, ghosting over the slippery rocks when the elk stumbles. He quickly recovers on wobbly limbs. It doesn’t matter. I have him. My family will have a sweet meal tonight.
We round the bend as I leap toward his neck. My fangs barely graze his tough pelt before I crash into what feels like an invisible wall. The force flings me backward, slamming me into the river bed. I whirl up, wondering what happened, and pissed that it did.
The sound of beating hooves grows distant as the elk disappears. I ignore his escape and growl with murderous rage.
Something’s here. Something different. Something magical.
My paws keep my footing over the uneven and rocky bank as I stalk forward. I poke at the air with my nose, trying to sense the wall or whatever it was that caused my fall.
My nose twitches, latching onto something . . . weird. It’s not elk, not deer, not even rabbit.
I smell predator.
A challenging growl rumbles through my torso and down my legs, causing a ripple across the water. My eyes sweep my surroundings, up the incline where the woods are thickest and back down where small, gentle waves splash over the river rocks.
Where are you? I growl again.
I angle my body to the left and frown. Something like rot permeates from the forest. It reeks of dead prey and danger, but then it moves further away from me and the predator I seek.
My eyes round with surprise when I hone in on a different scent. In the breeze, cascading along the bank, the fragrance of water misting over roses overtakes the aroma of pine, rich soil, and thick beds of moss, ensnaring me in its beauty.
An excited chill runs down my spine, standing my fur on end. I shake my head, trying to clear a scent that has no business latched to another predator . . . especially one warning me to keep my distance.
My ears perk up and my eyes hone in on a thick mound of blackberry brambles a few feet away.
There you are . . .
I prowl forward, my steps quiet and purposeful and my jaws set to sink into bone.
This isn’t a cougar. They run from us.
This is hungry.
Dangerous.
Weird.
My body quivers with growing excitement and my thunderous growls echo. I snap my jaws in challenge, letting my prey know I sense him.
It’s time to flee or fight. The choice is his. I’m not going anywhere.
The brush shifts. Slowly, very slowly, my prey rises. My lips peel back, yet the next growl dissipates before it can fully form.
Instead of fur, wet, wavy brown hair with streaks of gold catch the faint sunlight, spilling over slender shoulders and flawless olive skin, while droplets of river water trickle around large green eyes and full pink lips.
I stop breathing.
She’s young.
My age.
And she’s naked.
Chapter Two
“Don’t move,” she hisses. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her voice is husky and lower than I would expect from a young female. It hooks my wolf and draws me closer. I pant, my tongue lolling over my sharp fangs before I realize it. I suck it back in, hoping she didn’t notice.
That familiar sweep of magic that comes with a change feathers down my spine, dissolving my wolf form and tucking him back within my soul. I rise slowly from a crouch, my focus never leaving her.
Her eyes widen to frisbees and . . . she dives into the bushes.
“Oh, my God,” she squeaks.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re naked!”
“So are you,” I point out, wondering what the problem is.
“I’m—put some clothes on!”
“What?” I ask, sure I misheard.
“I told you to put some clothes on.”
I glance around and motion behind me like a dumbass. “My pack is up there.”
“There’re more of you? Naked more of yous?”
Wow. She’s really hung up on this whole naked thing. “I brought my friends,” I explain slowly. “They’re like my own pack. But I meant my backpack. That’s where my clothes are. Up there. Near them. Where we left them, I mean.”
I don’t normally sound this stupid. I also don’t normally meet females in the bushes. The females I meet tend to flirt and want to touch me, not shrink away like this one. I lean closer when she crouches lower and tries to cover herself with leaves. “Is something wrong?”
“You’re a werewolf,” she says.
She’s not really asking. But it’s also like she’s not sure. “Yeah,” I say.
“I’ve heard of you,” she says.
My body heats with embarrassment. Great, another groupie in the making. “This is our territory and where we’re most known,” I say, trying to downplay my family’s epic heritage, even though it’s far from the truth. Thanks to my early freakish change, my already famous family is now world-renowned.
“Your territory?” she asks.
“That’s right,” I say, shaking off what remains of my awkwardness.
“Where?”
“What do you mean?” I crouch deeper, trying to see her face. All I catch are glimpses of skin. “Why are you so muddy?”
She waits, as if debating what to say. “I spent the night here. I was hungry and trying to catch some fish. I, ah, wasn’t very good at it.”
That doesn’t sound right. I caught my first fish when I was three and I wasn’t even trying. Being a predator, one with such a strong sense of magic permeating from her skin, she should be able to fend for herself.
“What are you?” I ask.
Her voice grows quiet. If I were human, I’m not positive I’d hear her. “Just tell me where I am. Please.”
“Um, sure.” I turn back around, when I hear the familiar sound of paws striking the earth. My friends are closing in, maybe a few miles out at best. My brow furrows when I catch another nasty whiff of that festering stench I smelled earlier. But as I turn back to the timid female, the stench dissipates and so does everything else. All that’s left is her.
“We’re on Mount Elbert,” I clarify. “About ten miles from the closest highway.”
Her pause is so dramatic it seems to still the air around us. “Where’s Mount Elbert?”
“Lake County,” I offer, wondering why she sounds confused.
She releases a shaky breath. “And where exactly is Lake County?”
“Leadville,” I reply. “Colorado.”
The pace of her breathing increases. “I’m in Colorado?”
“Where else would you be?” I ask.
“New Jersey.”
I bark out a laugh. “Why would you want to be in that garbage dump?”
She groans. “It’s my home.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I push down the brambles, avoiding the thorns as best I can to better see her. All I catch are the body parts she clearly doesn’t want me looking at. She scrambles to the left where the overgrowth is at its thickest.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Trying to see you,” I say. It seems odd to have to explain myself this much, and even more strange for her to be so guarded.
“I think you’ve seen enough,” she replies stiffly.
“Come on,” I say, laughing. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a naked female.”
“I’ll just bet, big boy,” she snaps.
“What do you mean?” Whoa, she’s pissed. “My kind and I change all the time in front of each other.”
“Great. Of all the places I could have been zapped to, I get sent to a nudist colony in Colorado.”
“This isn’t a nudist colony.” I swipe my mouth, choking back another laugh. “And I mean change form, not change clothes.”
“Huh? Oh. You mean transform.”
“No. I mean change
.” I cock my head. “You don’t know a lot about us, do you?”
“I know enough.”
“Oh, yeah?” I grin. “Like what?”
Her large eyes blink back at me. “Like you’re strong and lethal.”
My smile vanishes. We kill those who threaten us and the world. But that’s not what she wants to hear. She’s scared. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise.
Her gaze softens with relief. It’s not a lot. Just enough for me to think she might believe me. I wait for her to say something, anything, rubbing my nose when the wind picks up and the stench from that festering animal whips past my nose. The smell is awful, but it doesn’t stand a chance against this female’s sweet aroma. When she doesn’t speak, I realize I have to.
I try to keep my voice casual and unthreatening. “Wolves, all weres really, change form around each other all the time,” I explain. “Our beasts tend to be two to three times our human size. When you tear through clothes like we do, it doesn’t leave a lot of room for modesty.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she says, her voice strangely innocent for a predator. “For your kind, I mean. But please understand, it’s not something I’m accustomed to.”
I want her to keep talking. It doesn’t take a genius to see she wants to remain silent. “You said you got zapped here,” I remind her. I take another whiff of her scent, trying to zone in on her emotions and figure out what she’s thinking. All it does is warm my body further, flushing my skin. I clear my throat. “What did you mean by that?”
“It means I don’t belong,” she says.
The scent of sadness permeates the air between us. She doesn’t just mean she doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t feel like she fits anywhere.
My wolf whines. He doesn’t like her sad and neither do I.
I try to smile. “I’m Aric. Aric Conner. But I guess you already know that.”
She tilts her chin and blinks back at me. “Why would I know that?” she asks.
Heat creeps up my neck. “You said you’ve heard of me.”
“No . . . I meant I’ve heard of werewolves. That they exist. I’ve scented them around in New Jersey and came across a few. They weren’t exactly friendly.”
