Bewitched by Their Mate [Feral 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove)

by Scarlet Hyacinth

  Feral 1

  Bewitched by Their Mate

  When witch Hewitt Moore helped his friends, the spirit wolves, he didn’t realize his assistance would draw unwanted attention to him. He becomes the target of the ferals, but Hewitt is completely capable of defending his life. He cannot, however, protect his heart. Not when he finds love in the most unlikely way.

  Devon Saunders and Mason Kale are ferals, banished by their own kind after losing themselves to their beast. When chance leads them to Hewitt, and each other, both men are shocked. Ferals don’t have mates, and they hate their own kind with a passion.

  However, their explosive connection cannot be denied. Fearing what their wild nature might do to Hewitt, the two ferals agree to cooperate with the spirit wolves. But there are more dangerous things in the world than ferals. When Hewitt is kidnapped by mysterious creatures, it will be up to Devon and Mason to rescue their mate.

  Note: this book contains double anal penetration.

  Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Shape-shifter

  Length: 37,174 words

  BEWITCHED BY THEIR MATE

  Feral 1

  Scarlet Hyacinth

  MENAGE AMOUR

  MANLOVE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour ManLove

  BEWITCHED BY THEIR MATE

  Copyright © 2012 by Scarlet Hyacinth

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-876-0

  First E-book Publication: July 2012

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Bewitched by Their Mate by Scarlet Hyacinth from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Scarlet Hyacinth’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Hyacinth’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  Thank you for buying the first book in my Feral series. I just have a brief important note to make. This story directly follows the thread of plot from the ending of the Spirit Wolves series. To fully enjoy Feral you must have read Spirit Wolves first.

  On that note, thank you to all those wonderful readers who asked for Feral. Enjoy!

  BEWITCHED BY THEIR MATE

  Feral 1

  SCARLET HYACINTH

  Copyright © 2012

  Prologue

  Mason stood in front of his leader’s throne, watching all the young spirit wolves around him. They were all so anxious, as impatient as him, and for good reason. Today was the day when they’d finally embrace their inner wolves.

  He’d always felt his beast close to his heart and ached for the moment when he’d finally be granted his heritage. Now, that wish would finally come true. Mason couldn’t wait.

  It seemed to take forever until it was finally his turn. Magistrate Wolfram Rozenstadt stood in front of him and smiled. It was a kind, warm smile, intended to reassure him. For whatever reason, it failed, arousing an odd apprehension inside Mason.

  “Ready?” the Magistrate asked.

  Mason nodded and forced himself to smile back. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He didn’t know if the Magistrate had expected a reply or not, but nevertheless, the elder spirit wolf made no additional comment. Instead, he pressed his hand to Mason’s forehead like he’d done with all the young wolves before Mason.

  Mason closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. He felt the foreign power intrude inside his mind. His parents had pretty much told him how it worked. The Magistrate would ease Mason’s way through his first meeting with the wolf in the astral plane by means of his psychic abilities. Mason had been reassured that his leader would not read his mind, and in that respect, he accepted the process. Then why did he suddenly want to shy away? Why did this seem so wrong?

  Mason tried to accept the Magistrate’s help, but the wolf rejected the invasion. It howled, angry and wild, and all of a sudden, Mason found himself invaded by a strength he’d never known before. His beast burst into his mind, wildly snarling at his opponent. He sensed Wolfram retreat and opened his eyes only to see the other man stare down at him in shock.

  Mason got up, the heat inside his mind so intense it made him shaky. He didn’t understand anything anymore. He gathered something had gone wrong, but what?

  “My lord?” he asked Wolfram.

  The words tasted bitter on his tongue, the wolf sneering at the show of subservience. Mason attempted to leash it in, but he didn’t know how. “My lord?” he asked again. “What’s the matter?”

  Wolfram didn’t give a reply. Instead, he frowned, and an odd, white glow began to emanate from his body. In a flash, Mason found that he could no longer move or speak anymore.

  The wolf howled at being imprisoned, protesting as the Magistrate’s power held him in an unbreakable hold. The unbearable heat increased more and more, and the beast inside Mason clawed to escape.

  In that moment, Mason understood. Somehow, his connection with his wolf had been too strong to contain. He’d gone feral. He didn’t grasp how and why. He was only eighteen, for crying out loud. He hadn’t even had time to find his mate, the mate he yearned for with such intensity, let alone be parted from him or her. He had absolutely no reaso
n to lose it—except this strange, inexplicable power that not even the Magistrate could help him with.

  His fate was sealed. He knew that. Ferals had no room in the world of the spirit wolves. They were abominations who lived to kill. By rights, Mason should have accepted Wolfram’s decision and given up right then and there, but righteous indignation and fury rose within him, combining with his instinct of self-preservation. This was not his fault. He didn’t deserve to die for crimes committed by others. He didn’t deserve to be trialed before he’d even done anything wrong.

  The power burst out of him, and Mason’s form melted into that of the wolf. The Magistrate’s hold on him faltered, perhaps because of surprise, and in that moment of distraction, Mason broke the spell, using every ounce of anger and despair at his disposal.

  In the background, Mason registered screaming, chaos settling over a previously peaceful and reverent ceremony. Hastily, he rushed out of the hall, thankful for his luck when everyone moved away from his path. However, the guards were close behind him, and the Magistrate would not allow him a second chance. He needed to get out of there, fast.

  As he thought this, Mason heard his name being called out, his mother’s familiar voice reaching out to him, and he hesitated. He turned to look at her, even his wolf yearning for her warmth and affection. Surely, she would know what to do. She would help him. His family loved him.

  He caught sight of her standing in the doorway of the huge ceremony hall, and it distracted him enough that he missed the approach of the two wolves until it was too late. His father’s heavy bulk sent him crashing to the floor.

  It was only by virtue of Mason’s thick fur that he managed to avoid his sire’s sharp fangs. He almost could not believe what was happening. His wolf was torn between the sorrow of loss, the confusion of his new power, and the anger over being rejected. Mason focused on the anger and pushed his father aside.

  The guards were very close now, and Mason’s body went into survival mode. Without lingering on useless feelings, he started running faster than he had in his entire life. His path seemed to be blocked several times, as the Magistrate’s Den—their leader’s home and the place where all ceremonies took place—held hundreds of guards, in addition to the spirit wolves who’d come here for this special day alone.

  Mason prayed like he never had in his life. His wolf reached out to their creator, the Spirit Mother, begging for her to understand. At first, it seemed that he would not receive an answer, but unlike the Magistrate, she did eventually reply. A burst of energy not his own filled him, and before he knew it, Mason was out of the Den and into the neighboring forest, with the guards a long way behind him. He continued running until he felt reassured that they could not longer reach him. Finally, he stopped by a brook and drank some cool liquid, thankful when it soothed his parched throat.

  A ghostly voice sounded in his ears, whispering, “I know it hurts now.” Mason looked up, half expecting to see his mother there. Instead, a huge white wolf shone in front of the brook. Mason’s eyes hurt at the brightness, but he lowered himself on all fours for the Spirit Mother and bared his throat. “One day it will all make sense,” she said.

  Mason didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t think his fate would ever make sense, and the Spirit Mother’s quizzical comment merely made him even more confused. An odd knowledge hit him, the realization that he was special, an Alpha feral. He would be hunted now. But of course, he could hunt in turn. He didn’t have to obey the rules.

  “Choose your path wisely, my child,” the Spirit Mother added, as if she’d guessed his thoughts. And then, she began to disappear until there was no sign she’d ever been there.

  Almost instantly, an acute loneliness hit Mason. His howl echoed in the forest as he acknowledged everything he’d lost. What was he going to do now?

  Chapter One

  A few hundred years later, present day

  The wolf carefully trudged forward through the shrubbery, his senses alert to every motion that might let him know something was not right. It was not safe for those like him to approach human towns too much. It represented the perfect way of getting oneself killed.

  He was a feral, a rogue who’d lost control of his beast. As such, he and all the others like him carried a deadly virus, one they often transmitted to the humans they bit. To avoid this, their former friends and allies, the spirit wolves, dispatched hunters to get rid of the threat. But there were millions of ferals all over the world, more than the spirit wolves even imagined. In time, a great number of them had learned to disguise their presence, to hide within their beasts until they seemed just wolves, at the same time lingering in forests rather than in settlements.

  Up ahead, the wolf smelled the distinctive scent of another beast in his proximity. He growled, knowing the second animal must’ve felt him, too. Even if he’d done his best to disguise his approach, his kind knew these things. An answering growl sounded, but it didn’t hold any particular hostility—at least, not more than normal.

  There was only one person who could find Devon even after all these years. His kind didn’t socialize, not like other shifters did. When they lost control of the animal, they also lost all desire to befriend others. Most everyone was seen as a threat. But those who’d known him once remained important, like his former friend, Roarke.

  Devon wanted to tear the other wolf’s throat out, but his memories from his life as a spirit wolf kept him from doing so. He and Roarke had been friends. In spite of everything, Devon still respected those times. What could Roarke want now?

  Shifting into his human form, Devon got out of the bushes and into a grove. Roarke waited for him, sitting on a tree stump. “Hi, Devon,” he said. “What’s up?”

  Devon shrugged. “Same old, same old.” He frowned at Roarke. “What are you doing here? What could you possibly want with me?”

  Roarke got up off the tree stump and sighed. “I just came to give you a heads-up. I hear the spirit wolves are planning a peace treaty with the ferals. I’m not sure what the Magistrate is trying to pull, but I just thought you’d like to know.”

  Devon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He gave Roarke a look of disbelief. “Peace treaty? Hah! Are you trying to pull my leg? It’s not funny.”

  The leader of the spirit wolves, Wolfram Rozenstadt, would never consider peace with the ferals. For crying out loud, he’d been hunting them through his dispatched soldiers for ages, even before Devon had become one. Even with all the time that had passed since then, Devon didn’t think Wolfram’s determination to protect the spirit wolves’ race would have dwindled.

  “I’m serious, Devon,” Roarke answered. “I ran into a hunter the other day. He tried to capture me, and when he failed, he told me about it. They also have some sort of drug that helps contain the feral madness.”

  Devon admitted the thought of his former friend confronting a hunter all alone made him uncomfortable, but he pushed the troublesome emotions away. Those times were long behind him, and while Devon didn’t want the man dead, he couldn’t stand the sight of Roarke, either. He did, however, need to find out the truth behind Roarke’s words. Naturally, he didn’t trust the Magistrate’s good intentions, and he had to know just what effects the development of this drug could have.

  “Thanks,” he grumbled reluctantly. He didn’t trust Roarke, not anymore, but any information was valuable. “I’ll look into it.”

  It was Roarke’s cue to beat it, but the other man didn’t take it. He just stared at Devon, his expression pleading. “When are you going to let this go?” he asked.

  Devon snorted. “You know better than to think that’s ever going to happen.” Ferals didn’t forgive. They lost their capacity after becoming what they were. The part of them that still held a measure of reason merely focused on their survival, and emotions mattered too little.

  “How long has it been now?” Roarke insisted. “Can’t we at least be civil?”

  Devon chuckled. “Seriously, Roarke? We’re feral.
Civil doesn’t exist in our vocabulary. Deal with it.”

  Roarke glared at him. “It’s never too late to learn new words.”

  Annoyance coursed through Devon at Roarke’s refusal to back off. “You were the one who broke our friendship.” He growled. “You were the one who turned his back at me. Now go, before we do something we’ll regret.”

  Some spirit wolves went feral because of losing their mates. Others, simply because of poor control. For Devon, it had been quite anticlimactic. Nothing of import happened to push him into it. He’d simply become tired, too tired to pursue a life that held no meaning. He had dreamed of finding his other half, but instead of achieving this goal, he’d just lived to watch others have what he craved. He hadn’t been able to take it anymore, and he’d become a feral.

  Roarke had taken it as a personal betrayal and made it his business to hunt for Devon. But his little crusade didn’t last long, since shortly after, Roarke lost control as well and became the hunted instead.

  “You know I’m right,” Devon finished. “Now go.”

  Roarke took a deep breath, and Devon could tell his former friend was close to losing control. “Fine. Have it your way. But don’t ever say I didn’t try.”

  Devon shrugged while the other feral turned into his wolf form and took off. A few moments later, Devon changed shapes as well. He’d found it paid off to stay in shifted form more than in his human one. As long as he focused his primal instincts on the normal pursuit of prey, they didn’t accumulate in a tight ball of violence. But the balance was very tricky, since if he pushed his limits, he might forget he even possessed the consciousness of a rational being.