Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1)

by Kelly St Clare

  “What does?” I said hoarsely.

  He opened his arms and, hands under my ass, set me gently on the ground beside him.

  I wrapped my arms around my body. “What’s happening?”

  Greyson’s lip curled. “I have my final answer.”

  27

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Three fake darts embedded in the swinging practice dummy. The thing didn’t move as fast as two-legged Luthers, but shooting at them was more accurate than the stationary dummies.

  Another dummy bolted across. I named this one Sascha Greyson.

  Pop. Pop.

  One dart made it into his upper thigh. Not too far below where I’d aimed.

  “You’re improving.” Rhona leaned against the stall door.

  “How long have you been there?” I asked.

  “A while. Gerry said you’ve been here for an hour morning and night the last two days.”

  Yup. Clay made me realise how crucial tranquiliser guns were, but I’d spent the two days since Sascha’s wolf spoke with me filling these dummies with puncture wounds.

  Rhona stood silently as I landed another few darts.

  “I don’t know who pissed you off,” she said when I lowered the gun. “But keep it up.”

  I’d keep it up as long as it took to convince Greyson to back off. I’d run through our conversation several times and couldn’t see exactly what question I answered in the forest.

  So he got his answer when Logan was around.

  Was his question to do with the mystery of my mother? Her cancer? Her debt? Or had he wanted to understand why I hated casinos?

  Whatever the answer, Logan fucked me well and truly. Maybe I’d name the next dummy after him. Picking up the gun, I fired another five times.

  Flicking the safety on, I set the gun on the barrier.

  Rhona held out an envelope. “From Dad.”

  I took it. “Have you already read it?”

  “Your new schedule. You’ve spent an hour with each of the strategy teams now. The head team believes you showed particular aptitude for counter-wolf strategies and Dad wants you to shadow the team until we play in Sandstone.”

  Whoa. Really?

  I ripped into the envelope. The top paragraph pretty much reiterated what Rhona just said. Word for word. “Am I ready?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “You either have it or you don’t. And remember, you’re six years older than our usual recruits—and a Thana.”

  I couldn’t remember Rhona ever calling me a Thana. That usually came from Herc.

  Phew, this roster would fill up my time. Lucky thing I didn’t get that second job. With my study, I couldn’t have managed everything.

  Dawn training would be followed by a two-hour strategy meeting. Virtual reality training with Pascal came after. I had about 85 percent of the Sandstone traps memorised by now. The new moon break came at the ideal time, considering I’d never rock-climbed or abseiled before last week. By the time Wednesday came around, I’d be ready to go, or at least wouldn’t accidentally hang myself.

  Gerry had me on additional climbing training in the evenings, and I’d added shooting practice on top of that.

  I could make my shifts Thursday through Saturday and the afternoons were mostly free for study.

  This could work. I’d have no social life, but that wasn’t anything new.

  “How are things at The Dens?”

  My eyes flew to hers. “The same.”

  Lie.

  Despite Sascha’s absence, Thursday and Friday night were fucking uncomfortable, especially after the scene with Logan and crying all over him.

  I gritted my teeth.

  “You’re acting extra strange is all.”

  How much could I say? Were things at a point that I needed help? Maybe I should let someone in. A little. “Things are unsettled.”

  Her eyes became slits. “How so?”

  How could any steward understand this breeding call business without passing judgement? I barely understood it. “You mean besides the obvious working for my enemy thing?”

  Her lips twitched. “What are they doing?”

  Offering their condolences on my mother’s passing. Showering me with compliments and Corrie’s Chocolate Chip Chocos. Smiling and patting me on the back. Hairy hugged me yesterday in front of the entry queue. “Things are just… noticeably tenser. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Her focus slid to the Logan dummy whose absent testicles had become dart pincushions.

  Everyone’s a critic.

  “Logan showed up in town yesterday.” I removed my safety glasses.

  “Your window-smashing ex?”

  I blew out a breath. “Yeah. He started shouting a whole heap of shit about Mum and the Luthers were around to hear it.”

  Rhona stilled. “Her gambling addiction?”

  I met her gaze.

  If the Luthers knew, it was only fair Rhona and Herc knew too. I didn’t want the wolves to use my personal problems as ammunition against the Thanas or the tribe. “There’s more. Mum left a debt against the house we co-own. The house sale should cover the repayment. The lawyers are on Logan’s ass about smashing the windows, but I just hate that—”

  I pressed my lips together. Putting everything into words was impossible. I had no idea what to feel about what Logan said. Or more so, who heard it.

  Did I hate that people knew or the Luthers specifically? Sascha, if I wanted to be more specific.

  “Do you need help?” Rhona asked in the lull.

  I shook my head. “It’s fine. Seriously. It’s more the strange dynamic at The Dens that’s unsettling me.”

  The Luthers could see inside me. They knew too much.

  Including what brand of underwear I wore.

  If Sascha’s goal was to chip his way into the deepest, darkest, and most fearful parts of me, he was achieving it. For the first time since arriving, I wanted to leave Deception Valley. Finding out werewolves existed didn’t send me over the edge, but this threatened to.

  Rhona crossed her arms. “You need to stop working there. Any intel they get on you is intel they get on us as a whole. If things are out of control, it’s time to leave.”

  Except I was learning so much about them.

  My sessions with the strategy teams had shown how much. Tiny things added up. When I really stopped to think about my interactions with the Luthers, details kept rising—of Sascha’s head team, the fact I hadn’t seen the little cub in human form, and what changes in their voice meant. The social dynamic when I’d entered pack lands that time. Differences between their two-legged and four-legged form. And I’d discovered Grim was a gamma wolf while Lisa was an omega. With Hairy, Leroy, and Mandy, the five made up Sascha’s head team. He had one wolf of each status. If Sascha had to politically form his head team to represent all factions of the pack, those could be cracks we could hammer on.

  Not to mention that when I ran away from Sascha after Logan, there was certainly more than one hundred metres between us before I ran into the forest. Yet they’d found me without difficulty. Their senses in two-legged form were stronger than they’d let on.

  I was steadily working through the history and strategy books Roderick gave me and could say with confidence that the Ni Tiaki hadn’t discovered this much about wolves in the last hundred years. No one else was currently in a position to learn anything new about the Luthers.

  Sandstone was coming for us again in five days, and any information was crucial. If not, I wouldn’t have returned there on Thursday night. “I’ve got to stay. It’s too important.”

  Rhona pressed her lips together. “That’s your choice. Just… you’re in their company more than any other steward. Please tell us if you’re in trouble and don’t be a one-woman army.”

  I cocked a brow. “I’ll stop being a one-woman army if you will.”

  She pursed her lips. I would have believed her cocky act if she didn’t swallow. “I can do a two-women army. No hugging allowed.”


  I hugged her.

  “Just this once,” she said, relaxing. Her arms wrapped around me and we stood in each other’s embrace.

  “That course you mentioned,” I murmured. “What’s happening with it?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “If you need help searching for the right fit, let me know.” I released her, picking up the schedule again. Rhona did best when she didn’t feel targeted, so I focused all my attention on the paper.

  I checked my phone—an hour remained until my shift at The Dens. Last shift of the week. I could do it.

  “That’d be good,” she murmured.

  “Cool. How’s tomorrow? Looks like I’ll be swamped with this schedule during the week.”

  I couldn’t wait to be busy again.

  “Rhona.”

  We turned to find Foley striding toward us. I smirked and Rhona shot me a glare. The guy clearly did something for her. I just didn’t see the draw.

  “We’re having drinks at the river,” he said, slightly out of breath. He peered my way. “Want to come, Andie?”

  To watch them suck face while I wasn’t sucking face with anyone? “Sorry, got work.”

  “Oh, sure.”

  Foley grabbed Rhona’s hand, and I mimed kissing my hand, earning another scowl.

  But seriously. She could do better. Or was that weird protectiveness for my one and only cousin?

  When I couldn’t hear them anymore, I peered around the shooting stalls. Everyone was at dinner. As planned.

  Dragging out my duffle, I scoped the area again and slid the tranquiliser gun inside along with two rounds of real darts.

  Come at me, Sascha Greyson.

  I stormed down the street to The Dens in the barely there dress. Returning to my apartment to shower and change revealed one thing.

  All of my dresses were gone except one.

  “You motherfucker,” I said, hoping the bastard heard somehow.

  A woman decked out in gold jewellery gasped as she passed.

  The dress was short to the point of indecency. I’d be up on a stage. Did he realise I didn’t work at a strip joint? And that I already had a reputation as Thong Girl?

  I didn’t even wear this thing anymore. I bought it at sixteen when sex became the most important thought of the day and before my boobs were this size.

  Perhaps the most annoying part was the collar that held up the front of the dress. He chose the dress purposely for that reason.

  I just knew it.

  I charged up the hill toward Hairy.

  The beta drew back the cordon for an already-drunk group of mid-thirties males, whistling when he saw me.

  “Where is he?” I demanded, placing my free hand on my hip.

  His expression smoothed. “Of whom do you refer?”

  I drew close, pointing a finger at his chest. “Where is Sascha Bastard Greyson?”

  “His middle name is Alarick.”

  Really?

  I jabbed my finger into hard muscle. “Tell me, Hairy. You owe me for making me cry that time.”

  “You made her cry?” an intoxicated woman at the head of the queue asked.

  I nodded sadly. “He did.”

  Boos rose from the line, and I tilted my head at the werewolf. He stared at me for a beat, then swept his eyes upward. I followed his line of sight to the overhanging cover.

  What… My mouth dropped.

  Sascha was on the roof?

  Hairy practically shoved me into The Dens, and I studied the low ceiling inside. Is that how Sascha followed me through town?

  Oh my god.

  “Big purse tonight.” Mandy eyed my duffel as she slid my water over.

  I wasn’t leaving the gun at the apartment for Sascha to steal.

  She leaned closer to the bag, sniffing. The tattooed blond grinned.

  Snapped.

  “Hey, could you hang around for a few minutes after your shift tonight?” she asked, pouring drinks for the women next to me.

  “Why?”

  She rang up the drink order, passing over the change. Mandy leaned across so we were face to face. “Sascha thought you might like to know a few things about what’s coming.”

  “Then no.” Trap.

  She lowered her voice. “He’d like me to tell you how to deny the heat.”

  I paused, cheeks heating. Dammit. “That’s all?”

  “Yes, I promise. There’s no way Sascha’s furry side would choose The Dens for the capture meet.”

  “I thought it was something he couldn’t deny—like it could happen anywhere.”

  “Oh no,” she said easily. “That is, Sascha can’t, but his other half can control the time and place.”

  I relaxed. “Then this isn’t going to explode in Sandstone.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I wouldn’t exclude the possibility.”

  My mouth dried at the thought of Pascal and Herc’s vantage point of the grid. That could not happen. “He can’t shift in the grid. He’ll lose a point for your side.”

  Mandy slid the women beside us a look, but they were more interested by the guys at the opposite end of the bar. “While Sascha may acknowledge Victratum, his wolf, being a sigma, does not. In fact, his wolf is more likely to flout rules in pursuit of the ultimate challenge. The pack accepts this as unavoidable.”

  Like a council decision?

  “Sounds like you all sat down and had a good talk about it,” I sarcastically replied.

  “We did. It’s a serious matter for us.”

  I knew the two-legged form came with all the usual human politics. With a wolfy spin. “The ruling of the pack can’t be undone, right? I don’t want anything to come back on me because of Sascha.”

  “The pack ruling is final. Which is why we take it seriously.”

  Interesting.

  “That’s fine, but Sascha could just change his mind,” I probed. “He’s your leader.”

  Mandy arched a brow. “No, he can’t.”

  Dang. That answer didn’t give me much, but I could assume the pack had the ability to outvote Sascha.

  How many Luthers were involved in this decision-making process? And how much power did Sascha’s vote hold? “The pack won’t be happy if he loses you guys points in the game.”

  She smiled. “Sascha won’t be happy about it either, but there are only two meets controlled by a male’s wolf. This is one of them. Don’t expect him to make human considerations because Sascha is effectively a bystander in this. It is a chance for his wolf to prove his worth, and he will not share that privilege. Not even with the other half of his soul.”

  Chills trickled down my spine.

  Greyson was terrifying. Huge.

  My tranquiliser gun suddenly seemed really cute and pitiful.

  “When will this happen?” I asked her in a low voice. My nights were spent tossing and turning. My days—looking over my shoulder. I could only balance so many things at once without spiralling.

  I hated that feeling. That’s when doors got kicked in.

  And this capture thing could not happen in Sandstone. No way.

  Mandy studied me. “Not even Sascha knows that. But I’ll tell you that during the capture meet, a male wolf is after the ultimate challenge. Only in that way, can he prove to you that he is worthy.”

  Right. So in order to guess when Sascha would attack, I just had to understand what his wolf considered the ultimate challenge.

  Awesome.

  Too easy.

  I grabbed my drink, sax case, and duffel.

  “Have a good set,” Mandy called.

  She was enjoying this. All the wolves were. The pack had accepted their leader’s breeding call operated outside of the game though. They couldn’t be happy about that.

  Sascha explained the breeding call to me as though it happened every now and then—maybe a few times a year. Or maybe I’d assumed it wasn’t a rare thing from his casual tone.

  How important was this occurrence to wolves?

  Or was
it so serious to them because I wasn’t a Luther?

  I rested the duffel beside the stool and went through the normal motions of set-up. I had a slightly sick feeling in my stomach. Nights playing music here would end soon. I’d genuinely miss the loss of this stage and the audience.

  Scowling at Leroy, who’d already crept in with his phone extended to add more to his song list, I drew my lips in around the mouthpiece.

  “Go Your Own Way.” Fleetwood Mac.

  Forgetting my woes—and the shortness of my apparel—wasn’t easy as I worked through my set. In all honesty, I didn’t expect to, given the last two shifts. One song never failed to ease my heart though. Except I didn’t want to play it with Leroy around.

  Seriously, if someone told me werewolves used drones and apps and offered platters of cookies, I would’ve laughed and edged away.

  Bouncing with the music, I finished one song and flowed into another. Soon after, I drew that to a close too. The crowd was on a high tonight.

  I ran my eyes over the closest members of the audience—all younger males tonight, probably hoping for an extra show from me.

  They smiled, and I nodded politely.

  Pretty sure they’d end up with wolf jaws around their noggins if I entertained the idea of a night with a male patron. There were more than enough hot guys at the manor to peruse. I just hadn’t gotten a chance yet.

  I should get onto that once Sascha got this crap out of his system.

  “Hey, beautiful.” A lean guy with a shaved head paused at the edge of the stage. “Can I buy you a drink after your set?”

  Not my type. “Thanks, but I don’t drink.”

  With you.

  He slid a hand into his suit pocket ready to start a chinwag. Groan. I put the sax to my lips in a clear hint, but Grim rested a heavy hand on the guy’s shoulder.

  “Don’t bother her,” he said gruffly.

  The man paled under his regard, and I smiled thanks to the gamma wolf, scanning for Leroy. I couldn’t see him anywhere in the bar.

  Maybe I’d sneak in my favourite song after all.

  They’d never know.

  Janis Joplin, here we come.

  I closed my eyes, calling forth my mental forest. My shoulders eased, and I blew into my sax, easing into “Me and Bobby McGee.”