by SJ Himes
WOLVES OF BLACK PINE
By SJ Himes
Wolves of Black Pine
The Wolfkin Saga
Copyright © 2015 by SJ Himes
All rights reserved.
Edited by Amanda Coolong
Cover design by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover By Design
The Wolfkin Saga emblem designed by Kellie Dennis, property of SJ Himes.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
If you are reading a pirated version or a copy of this ebook that you did not purchase yourself, or was not gifted/loaned to you through allowable and legal means, please keep in mind you have effectively stolen this ebook. That means you have taken money directly from the author, making it harder for the author to continue to write.
Please purchase your own copy, and remember to review.
SJ Himes
http://www.sjhimes.com
WARNING: Contains graphic sex, violence, dubious consent, mentions of child abuse and rape.
For mature readers only.
Dedication
To my husband. Apologies for ignoring you the last few months while I wrote this book. You never doubted me, and for that, I will always be grateful.
To Amanda C., thank you for editing this jigsaw puzzle of a manuscript. You are a goddess of charity and helpful insights.
To Amanda B., thank you for the early help and encouragement. You have, better than most, an idea of just how hard this has been, and how much fighting it took to make this book happen.
To Stacie P., may you always be one of the first people I reach out to and say, “Hey, read this will you? Tell me if it’s too weird? Or not weird enough? More sex, I can do that.”
To all of my family members, friends and coworkers who dealt with my nonstop chattering about werewolves and men falling in love with men: THANK YOU!!!
To Matt T., Surprise! For being constantly annoying, and yet endearingly supportive by channeling our favorite psychotic baby and his talking dog.
Without everyone’s patience, encouragement, and real interest and support, this would never have happened.
To the fans of shifter lore and m/m love: may you find the same enjoyment in this book as I did.
Author’s Note
This is a work of fiction, obviously. But—there are some very real, and very nasty, real-life situations in this book, and some content may be considered triggers. Sexual assault, violence, allusions of child abuse, blood, gore and the average depravity of mankind is in this book, along with love, lust, forgiveness and daily angst.
As with all things in this life of ours, use your best judgment about what YOU are capable of reading and handling.
Enjoy!
Part One
Shaman Gray Shadow
WHISPERS FLITTED about the hushed atmosphere of the clan council room, hard to pinpoint to any one particular were-child. The fire crackled softly, shooting out short-lived sparks high above the red hot coals. The great room was dark, the only light, the fire centered deep in the sunken floor, casting its orange glow on the stone tiers that rose up along the walls of the council house. Scents of sage, smoke, pine, wet fur, and warm blood mingled, an intoxicating blend that teased the senses of the many cubs huddled expectantly at the feet of the Shaman. He raised his gaze around the room, and the few fools brave enough to be whispering quickly quieted. He settled back on his seat, the great stone chair well-worn and adorned with thick bearskins. It was a place of honor reserved for Alphas and Shamans, and woe be to the foolish werewolf who was neither yet sat there uninvited.
His eyes flashed silver in the flames, and the air moved in an inexplicable breeze that smelled of cool winter nights hunting under a full moon. It was summer now, yet the shaman’s power rose within the council house, changing the air’s scent, the temperature, even the atmosphere.
The Great Shaman began his tale, and the shadows around the stone throne shimmered, gaining depth and movement. He spoke, and as the tale began, his words and will spun out the images of ancient wolves running across snow swept tundra, great gray beasts with shaggy coats and jaws bred to bring down the greatest of prey and predator alike.
KANE, HEIR to Black Pine Clan, sat carefully in the back of the council house, unnoticed by the fidgeting cubs. He’d snuck away from the party in the square, the gathering’s last night drawing a huge crowd. Beer and wolfkin usually led to fights, sex, and Challenges, and he wanted no part of any of the three. His place as Heir was secured, by his Alpha’s decree and Kane’s mastery of his own gifts as an alpha, so no challenger, even drunk, dared step forward. Beer didn’t keep wolves drunk for long, their metabolism burning the alcohol off quickly, so there was enough on hand to drown a fraternity, and the stench was too much for him. And the sex held little appeal, as the majority of unmated wolves at the bonfire were females looking for an unattached alpha or high-ranking beta to seduce into a last minute mating pact before the gathering ended. Most of the females who hadn’t found a mate this gathering were the ones worth avoiding, too cloying and clingy, more interested in a prospective mate’s rank and influence than the poor male himself.
Kane wanted no part of that. He had his own lover, and Burke was exactly what he needed, what they both needed. Neither were interested in creating a bond outside of casual sex and friendship. Burke was more his friend than lover, anyway, and as the other alpha was his lieutenant as well, romance would just makes things messy. Running the Clan, hunting, and an occasional fuck kept them going.
The fire was reduced to embers, and Kane was glad for it, not wanting to disturb the Shaman or the cubs by bringing attention to himself, the darkness deep enough to hide his bulk as he hid in the back. An adult at what was ostensibly a history lesson but felt more like story time would just ruin the magic.
And magic was what this was. Shaman’s magic, spirit magic. Kane never grew out of his childish fascination with it, and it still stung to some degree that when he hit puberty and his gifts emerged, he became an alpha instead of a shaman. He was happy now, but it would have been all kinds of fun as a young teen to experience even half of what the weakest of shamans could do.
Kane let himself slip away to his childhood, feeling like a cub again, watching as the Clans’ greatest shaman spun history lessons and tales of legend out of shadows and smoke.
GRAY SHADOW sat above the children and youths of his clan, and he met as many of their wide-eyed stares as he could. The great gathering of the wereclans of the Northern Appalachians and the surrounding ranges brought many children this year, more than in gatherings past; their people were thriving, even with the advent of humanity and their aggravating technologies. The humans’ last Great War was long over, and the clans had flourished in the wake of all the young human males dying so far from these shores. There was less competition for land, jobs, and food, and as long as they kept to the Laws of clan and man, and were vigilant, the clans were able to expand their territories. Once smaller packs were growing in numbers. That Great War was generations past now, and this new modern era was blessed with plenty enough young wolves to cause havoc and mayhem.
One of the worst offenders of past mayhem was hiding in the back of the council house even now, fully grown and pretending he wasn’t there. The Shaman sent his eyes over where Kane was hiding, and pretended not to notice that the Clan Heir was avoiding matchmaking females and drunken upstart alphas looking for a beating. Kane was thankfully a wiser wolf now in his young adulthood than he had been as a whelp, and he was more likely to be stopping the trouble these days than starting it. The cub still had a temper, but age was easing its grip on him. He let Kane think himself invisible, and returned his attention to the collected youth of the clans at his feet.
He was the oldest of the shamans. Gray Shadow they called him, his birth name long forgotten by the clans in the many years since his youth. He alone held the greatest gifts of their people, in illusion, healing, spirit walking and mastery of the elements. Of the two hundred clans across the globe, Gray Shadow was known to all, and petitions for him to take apprentices came every year, clans seeking to have their young shamans taught under him unrelenting. Gray Shadow had only just released his last apprentice from his service this past spring, young Michael, a competent and trustworthy shaman after recently passing his trials. Even his Clan’s Alpha expressing Gray Shadow’s desire for a season of rest before taking on a new apprentice did little to stop the influx of requests for training, and Gray Shadow was thankful that Caius was the type of alpha willing to handle all the denials.
Gray Shadow held the illusion of an ancient dire wolf in perfect stillness, the great beast frozen in a leaping crouch, jaws open wide, fangs long and white, with claws spread. The assorted cubs oohed and aahed appreciatively when he’d spun it from the shadows, using the lazily drifting smoke as the base for the illusion. He could craft it wholly from the air and by bending the light, but the effect was far more dramatic when he gathered the smoke and made the ancient animal seem to flex and grow as he manipulated the illusion.
He cast the cubs all one last warning glare, ensuring their silence before he continued the rest of his story. This was the last tale he’d tell before releasing them to their minders. Their history was important, and every cub must be taught the story of their origins. Their Laws came from their history, and no one was exempt from the Law.
Gray Shadow drew the skins closer to his legs, the thick brown and black pelts obscuring his form in the flickering light from the fire. When he spoke, his voice was low and full, and a hint of his inner wolf crept into the words. His eyes flashed silver in the shadows and flame, and the cubs shivered in response, instinctively reacting to the old wolf’s authority.
The illusion moved, falling from its aborted leap to walk calmly around the shaman, tiny cubs staring up in awe as it walked over them, gasping when they could make out the ceiling through the dire wolf’s underbelly. Gray Shadow guided the illusion until it stood at his shoulder, where he had the great beast sit docilely, dark eyes glinting like black diamonds. Its coat moved in a breeze that wasn’t there, frosted from a long ago winter’s night.
“Long ago, in ages past, our Great Mother gave to her favored children a gift. She set us apart from the rest of humanity, and gave us the ability to become wolves. Great wolves of the far north, strong in limb and tooth. The dire wolves of the northern reaches claimed many a man’s life for centuries untold, and after the sacrifices and prayers of our forefathers, our Goddess gave to our ancestors the shape of their greatest fear.”
All the cubs leaned forward, transfixed, staring at the illusion, as he broke down the dire wolf, and spun out a tableau of a frozen tundra, men clad in leather and fur running for their lives from a great pack of dire wolves, the beasts far bigger than the men they hunted.
Gray Shadow bent his will, and the scene changed, and he siphoned more smoke from the embers, bending the light of the fire to craft a moon high in a clear winter sky, a white expanse of unending snow dotted by the huddled forms of men on their knees. They screamed, pleaded and prayed to the Great Mother on Her silvery throne high in the heavens, and She answered them.
The moon was all encompassing, glowing so brightly in the illusion that its light sparkled over the raised faces of the cubs, their eyes wide in wonder. Gray Shadow bent it again to his will, and the illusionary supplicants on the ground began to twist and shriek soundlessly, writhing as their bodies broke, erupting into gray and white mists that enveloped them entirely. Silver lightning arced within the clouds surrounding each man, showing brief black silhouettes of twisted limbs and melting bones, reforming muscles. The men and their crude leathers were gone, as the mists receded, and the moon shone down on a new breed of creature, born again as wolves, powerful and fearsome.
“The clan grew once they had nothing to fear from the hunters in the night, and as their numbers increased, the clan split. Red Fang Clan birthed Red Claw and Bright Moon Clans, and the first three became the genesis of the nearly two hundred clans that span the world today. We are great in numbers, and powerful.”
Gray Shadow made sure to meet the eyes of the children of the Alphas in the room, for the next part of this tale was vitally important. The sons and daughters of the Alphas of the gathered clans must know this part of their history, so as to understand their ancestors’ folly.
Again he changed the scene of light and smoke, to show the forefathers of their race. Giant men and wolves, hardened by the trials of their constant struggle to survive, ruthless and relentless. Grim warriors and powerful sorcerers snarled at each other and fought bloody battles, the cubs jumping and hiding in their seats as Challenge after Challenge and attack after attack on humans went unceasing, the horrid scenes playing out over their heads.
“The Alphas, our leaders, were granted the strength to lead, command, to wrest obedience from the wolves of their clans. The gift of command gave the strongest of alphas the ability to hear and speak to every wolfkin mind, joining wolves into clans and packs. They had total control over their people, from the smallest child to the strongest warrior. Alphas of old could force the Change upon any of their people, or prevent it entirely, by using a type of mental influence inherent in all alphas. Some Alphas could kill with the power of their spirits, commune with our ancestors, and control the wild creatures of the woods and plains. They could heal even the most grievous of wounds, including those caused by that baneful metal, silver. Some could walk the world as spirit wolves, leaving their bodies behind, to spy upon friend and foe alike, undetected. There are tales of myriad other abilities the Alphas had at their command in the old days, tales of gifts that nearly destroyed the world, and our people with it. The most dangerous and potent of an alpha’s abilities was that of the Voice, the gift to wrest free will from any wolfkin, be he alpha or beta. Used with ill intent, the Voice had the power to utterly and completely destroy the mind and individual thoughts of any wolfkin it was borne against.
The Alphas of old, my little cubs, had power beyond measure.”
The children of the clan leaders and lesser alphas scattered about the room either nodded gravely, or sneered as they elbowed their neighbors. He noted which cubs did what, and sighed softly, deploring the folly of raising children to be exactly like their parents.
The illusion changed again—to a horrific scene of a bloody battlefield, wolves adorned in armor and spiked collars charging ahead of wolfkin on horseback, swords in hand. Human armies fell one after the other, and Gray Shadow did not spare the cubs the most gruesome scenes. They were predators, and while most of them were too young to Change, they’d surely seen their parents and older siblings hunt and bring down game.
“We once stood to conquer the world, and many of our greatest alphas throughout our histories attempted to do so several times over the centuries. Once, my sons and daughters, the children of the first Clan, Red Fang, became so powerful that our ancestors nearly overwhelmed the humans, and turned this world into barren hunting grounds that ran with blood.”
A scene of death and blood. Countless dead humans and w
olves littered a far flung field of corpses, crows circling overhead, carrion animals scavenging on the flesh of the dead. It was harsh and jarring, and it was necessary. History was not all tales of love and romance and happy endings. It was death and pain and blood.
Gray Shadow heard the few whispers and growls, most from the militant and bloodthirsty clans of Red Wraith and Ashland, the direct descendants of the remnants Red Fang Clan. Their pack members were of an aggressive and violent nature, and without fail, at nearly every gathering since the clans’ inceptions those particular packs instigated most of the fights.
“The Great Mother, from her silvery throne high in the sky, saw her favored children turn their backs on the humans, and begin to treat them not as cousins, but as prey. We wolves had not the compassion and mercy we once had as humans, and as generations passed, we lost more and more of what we treasured most about ourselves when we were human. Alphas of unspeakable power swept through lands unchecked, leading armies of werewolves, killing and enslaving countless peoples. Humans were being slaughtered, and the power of the clans grew to the point of all-out war with the surviving human nations. We were still outnumbered by humans, a hundred to one, and regardless of our longer lifespans and abilities, if they had all turned on us together, we would have died, down to the last greybeard and suckling cub. Our Great Mother saw our fate, and intervened to save her favored children one last time.”
Gray Shadow looked around the room, seeking for a set of eyes that knew the answer. This tale was the oldest of them all, and not many of their youngsters knew it, even if their own home clan shamans taught it. Old tales, if told as a chore, were oft times ignored by the younger wolves.
