Hungry Like a Wolf
Jessica Lynch
Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Lynch
All rights reserved.
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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Jessica Lynch
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Season of the Witch
Available Now
Stay in Touch
About the Author
Also by Jessica Lynch
Prologue
On the subject of broken unions:
All Paranormal unions (also referred to colloquially as matings, claimings, bloodings, soul mates, etc.) are final so long as both parties sign a notarized certificate (“Bonding License”) stating a “bond” exists between them. The penalties for fabricating this claim are up to and including incarceration at a state-run facility.
In the event that one party becomes deceased, this Ordinance requires that, should the remaining party be a Paranormal, the broken “bond” must be neutralized in order to keep the Paranormal from becoming a danger to the rest of society.
As of the latest revision for this Ordinance, the surviving Paranormal has three options: a) voluntary incarceration in a state-run facility until rehabilitation; b) voluntary dissolution of the existing “bond” by a government-employed witch; c) in the most extreme cases, when rehabilitation is not deemed possible, a state-sanctioned execution.
Rehabilitation is conditional. If the surviving Paranormal breaks any of the clauses outlined in this Ordinance following release, the penalty is further incarceration or, in severe cases, execution.
— Ordinance 7304
Section IV
1
Colton Wolfe tapped his fingers against his leg, grateful that his claws hadn't made an appearance yet.
Grateful and a little surprised, too. Shit. His control was holding out better than he expected.
Maddox would be proud. He always said Colt’s temper was too explosive.
Yeah, well. Guilty as charged.
It really didn’t take much to set him off. One of his tools missing from its specific spot in his work shed. Traffic snarls, he fucking hated those. Another wolf having the balls to mark in his territory? It was a struggle to keep to two legs instead of four. Even something as simple as his soda going flat before he had finished it tested him.
He couldn’t help it.
Shifters were known for having a short leash, with Colt’s notably shorter than most. He always snapped first, asked questions later. It was one of the reasons he was glad his brother was four years older. Even if they were both born alphas, Maddox had the bad luck to be his father’s second-in-command, the next in line to be Alpha, if only because he was the eldest.
He would lead the pack one day if Colt could finally convince Mad that he didn’t belong behind bars.
Last month, Colt didn’t even bother trying. He’d given up after his first few visits, knowing that he’d never be able to change his stubborn brother’s mind.
But that was last month.
Last year.
Hell, that was yesterday.
Not today, though. Not with this recent knowledge buzzing around his skull, making his inner wolf yip frantically with excitement.
He needed to get to Maddox.
Too bad the cop wasn’t making it easy for him.
Colt’s temper was primed to go off like a rocket. The smirk, the damn smirk on the cop’s face, was enough to provide a spark if he wasn’t careful.
Because if there was one thing that guaranteed an appearance by his beast? It was someone deliberately screwing with him. And the smarmy, smug bastard on the other side of the bulletproof glass wasn't just screwing with him—he was wearing a shit-eating grin while he did it.
“I don’t know,” the blond officer drawled, squinting at the P.I.D. card Colt had just passed through the one-inch gap in the partition. “You sure this is you?”
Colt swallowed his growl, his claws scratching at the tips of his fingers, begging to be let free. “It's me.”
“Don't know about that. It doesn't look like you all that much.”
“That’s my picture,” Colt said through gritted teeth. “That’s my name.”
“You don’t say. Huh.”
Ah, hell. How had he forgotten? Officer Wright thought he was some kind of comedian, only his tired routine had gotten old the first time he pulled it almost a year ago.
Damn it. Did Colt have to put up with this crap every time he wanted to visit his brother?
He exhaled roughly through his nose. A quick shake of his shoulders, settling inside of his skin. Wolfing out while at the Cage was the quickest way to get thrown in one. “Come on. It’s me. You know it is.”
“Name says ‘Wolfe’,” the officer noted, purposely drawing out the last word. “‘Shifter type: Lycan’. Yeah?” He made a point to squint a little as he took in Colt’s tall, lean frame, frowning as he eyed the shifter’s clean-shaven face, his closely cropped light brown hair. “I just don't think I buy it. Shouldn’t you be hairier or something? Where’s the fangs, Pretty Boy?” Wright let out a derisive snort. Colt bit down so hard, he nearly split his tongue with the fangs he purposely kept just out of sight. “Your kind should come with a warning label, not just some stupid card.”
Okay. Pretty Boy he could handle, he’d been called worse by his brother, but the way the cop spat out your kind as if Colt was somehow less because he was a paranormal? He locked his jaw, smartly staying quiet in case he snapped something that guaranteed he’d never get in to see Maddox.
Flaring his nostrils, he took another deep breath, struggling to retain his hold on his furious wolf.
Because another thing that made him lose it? Nobody Ants like Wright who thought they were better than Paras.
When he was confident he wasn’t about to shift on the spot, Colt relaxed enough to unscrew his jaw and speak again. No matter what Wright thought, his trip to the Cage wasn’t a waste of time. He had a damn good reason for coming back so soon and, as tempting as it was, squashing this Ant wasn’t it.
Later, though. He’d remember this later.
Nothing he could do now anyway. The glass protecting Wright’s worthless hide wasn't just bulletproof. He could tell from the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood up that the glass was also enchanted to be Para-proof. Claws and fangs and brute strength were powerless against the warding spells.
Fucking witches. He fought back another snarl. Alpha, how he hated them.
The ones who turned their back on their fellow Paras to sell their spells to the government were the absolute worst. Just the thought of them made his skin itch, his gaze icing o
ver as he fought the urge to shift. They were traitors, in his opinion, all of those who chose to side with the Ants.
He might be forced to interact with asshole humans like Wright because it was his duty to keep in touch with his brother; as long as Maddox was trapped in this hellhole, Colt would be there. Witches did it solely for the money. Without all of their enchantments and their wards, the Cages probably wouldn’t even exist.
Colt was reminded of that every time he came back here.
Wright flicked his blunt pointer finger against the edge of Colt’s identification, back and forth, back and forth. The rasping of his skin against the plastic set Colt’s teeth on edge. He had a sudden longing to shove his P.I.D. down Wright’s throat.
They both knew that the cop was going to let him in—Colt was on the shortlist approved to see Maddox and, regardless of what Wright implied, his identification was legit—but the game was to see how long he could keep Colt waiting. And how close he could get the wolf shifter to going rogue.
Too damn close, and the bastard knew it.
Colt figured Wright had something against the Wolfe brothers, even if he couldn't put his claw on the why. As a pack animal, Colt was born with an innate knowledge of alpha males and hierarchies. It was obvious that nothing would make the arrogant officer happier than to see Colt rotting in the same cell as Maddox and fuck if he would give him that satisfaction.
He pulled all of his aggression back and, with a grin that lit up his boyishly handsome face, he leaned in toward Wright. A dimple popped in his left cheek.
Then he remembered being called Pretty Boy. His grin turned feral, his fangs lengthening until they bit into his bottom lip. Wright went as pale as a ghost. And, since Colt's best friend was one, he considered himself an expert.
“You questioning my government-issued P.I.D.? Again? Maybe you should call your supervisor down here. Get a second opinion. Check if I’m allowed to see my brother or not.” His grin widened as he made sure to bare his fangs. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”
In response, Wright slapped Colt’s identification on the counter before shoving it roughly back through the glass partition. Irrationally pleased, Colt pulled his wallet out and put his P.I.D. away while Wright leaned over. With more force than was necessary, the cop slammed his palm against the red button off to his side.
Even though the alarm sounded on another floor, the piercing shriek was still too much for Colt’s sensitive shifter hearing. He point-blank refused to let Wright see how much it hurt, though, so, like he usually did, he swallowed roughly until the ringing in his ears became more tolerable.
It didn’t matter how many times he heard it, the shrill whistle never got any easier. He decided long ago that it was on purpose.
He grumbled under his breath. Fucking Ants.
A few minutes later, a bald-headed officer about twenty years Wright’s senior appeared behind the glass partition. He nodded at Wright. The younger man scowled and jerked his head at Colt. Some color was beginning to return to Wright’s face; a nice, angry red, Colt was glad to note. The bald officer appeared surprised and almost happy to see the wolf shifter standing at attention in the waiting area.
Colt relaxed a little further. Okay. Now that was the kind of welcome he liked to get.
This time, when Colt offered Officer Bennett a smile, he hid his fangs again.
He liked the older cop. Since the Cage was technically considered a very dangerous prison—whether a majority of the inmates were “voluntary” or not—the government refused to staff them with ordinary correction officers; except for the civilian warden, a never-ending rotation of tenured police officers ran the place instead. No matter what department they were from, what precinct, each and every cop had to do at least one year’s time in a Cage as a reminder that “protect and serve” referred to paranormals, too.
Bennett seemed like an honest man. Even Maddox had a good word or two for the officer over the years and, considering his brother didn’t like too many people, that was saying something. Bennett did his year about a decade and a half ago and decided to stay even when he didn’t have to. And, unlike Wright, he didn’t give Colt any grief whenever he came to see Maddox.
Bennett already had his keys in hand when he left the guards’ side in favor of joining Colt. “Hey, Wolfe,” he greeted genuinely. “How are you?”
There was a door built into the far side of the waiting area. It was locked, since it led further into the maximum security facility, and Bennett needed two separate keys from the ring—plus a palm print—to open it. Once he had, he swung the thick door in before gesturing for Colt to step through.
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Good. Say, didn’t I just see you not too long ago?”
Colt was wondering if anyone would call him out on that. He was aware his visits drained Maddox so, on his brother’s orders, he kept them to once a month. And, like Bennett noted, it had only been a handful of days since the last time he took the trip out.
“Something came up,” he grunted.
“Pack business?” Bennett asked. There was no trace of disgust or irony in his question. He was actually interested.
Shaking his head, Colt told him, “Personal, but important. It couldn't wait until next month. I know it's late.” No thanks to Wright giving him the runaround, he thought. Colt rolled his head on his neck, his fingers stretching and cracking. “I’ll try to be quick.”
Bennett nodded and, while curiosity colored his hangdog face, he left it at that. His ring of keys tucked securely onto his belt again, the older cop led the way down the empty, dark hall.
Not that Colt needed a guide. Even without his tracking senses, he could find his way through the hidden nooks and less-traveled paths of the Cage blindfolded.
In the three years that he’d been visiting his brother, Colt lost track of how many times he’d gone down this empty hall. It always smelled strongly of chemicals—probably the industrial cleaners the maintenance crews used—and he snuffled gently, trying to keep the acrid stench from burning his nose. Between that and the way the hall narrowed continuously as he walked, he knew that it was a subtle warning for paranormal visitors, especially shifters.
Damn if the Cage wasn’t a true cage, even the part of the prison that allowed civilians. It was designed to be a constant reminder that there was no freedom here: no windows, save for the artificial light streaming down from the fluorescent bulbs hanging overhead, and absolutely no fresh air.
Colt had to resist the urge to shift and take off. Just run. His wolf was all for it.
Another scent suddenly filled the stuffy corridor. It was faint, barely noticeable against the caustic stench of the cleaner, but he recognized it in a flash.
Colt was well acquainted with the sour tinge of fear. He was making Bennett nervous.
And that’s when he realized that he was growling under his breath and, yup, those were his claws. He hadn’t been able to keep them back after all.
He took a deep breath, held it, pushed it out through his nose. Again.
Maddox was his older brother and, though not much got to him anymore, his protective instincts were often triggered when he saw that Colt was having a hard time holding it together. Right then? He needed Maddox calm. Which meant he needed to calm the fuck down himself.
Bennett was an honest man, a good man—and he was a pretty brave man, too. Despite the flare of unease in his scent, he turned, daring to look Colt straight in the eyes. Not long enough that it was a challenge, Colt couldn’t deny that it was a reminder. Officer Bennett was a cop, an experienced Cage guard, and the gun his hand was currently resting against? Colt would bet his left nut that it was full of silver bullets.
“You doing alright, Wolfe?”
Colt jerked his head in agreement. “Yeah. Sorry. Just anxious to see my brother.”
“Wright should’ve already called him down to the visitors’ block. Good chance he’s there, waiting for you.”
Part of Colt wondered if
Wright was going to dick him around some more. He hoped not. The annoying prick seemed to respect Bennett so maybe, for once, he’d do his job without giving Colt an even harder time.
Or maybe Colt’s threat to go over Wright’s head had hit its mark.
Didn’t matter. The only thing that did? When Bennett got through the locks that led into the visitors’ area, just how relieved Colt was to find Maddox slumped on a stool behind the glass.
The square room was the same one Colt always met Maddox in. About twice as large as the waiting area on this floor of the Cage, it had three grey cinderblock walls and a fourth made up of glass that separated the brothers. A mirrored row of stools sat on both sides, a seat each for the inmate and the civilian. Behind the inmate, there was another solid cinderblock wall and a door that would bring Maddox back to his cell.
Colt had never seen his brother’s cell before. He tried not to think about Maddox living locked up behind bars like a common criminal. Locked away for the crime of loving his mate, then losing her.
It only made Colt want to howl his rage at the unfairness of it all.
As soon as Bennett slipped back into the hall—followed by the soft snicking of the lock behind him—Colt knew that this illusion of privacy was all he and his brother were going to get. His senses didn’t pick up anyone else in the room, but he wasn’t fooled. He remembered the position of every camera, knew there was always someone watching.
Hungry Like a Wolf Page 1
