Broken Bond: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Claimed by Wolves Book 2)

by Callie Rose

  He kisses the top of her head, smoothing down her blond hair. Then his chest rises and falls as he lets out a sigh. “All right, sweetheart. You win.”

  I catch Ridge’s gaze, and the two of us share a knowing look. Trystan used to be the type of guy who would go round and round in an argument, making the same points over and over just because he refused to back down. Sable’s brought out a new side of him, and we can all see it.

  She’s good for him. For all of us.

  Back in the bedroom, we get fully dressed and prepare to leave. Even though I’m anxious to get this over with, I consider suggesting we wait. We could sleep on it, head out early tomorrow morning with fresher eyes and minds. But Amora came over this late at night because she felt like something was boiling over. If she didn’t think it was important, she wouldn’t have disturbed us. The longer we wait, the more chance we have of coming up against a real rebellion within the pack.

  The sooner we can discover the secrets of Sable’s past, the better.

  I find Sable standing with Amora in the living room, the two of them chatting easily. A small smile tugs at my lips. It’s nice of Ridge’s childhood friend to go out of her way to get to know Sable.

  As I’m shoving some supplies in a backpack, I hear Amora say, “One month after Ridge earned alpha, he set his pants on fire. At a funeral.”

  “No!” Sable exclaims, bursting into laughter that raises warmth within me.

  “Yup. He so did.” Amora smirks. “We have this ritual where the alpha lights a large candle in remembrance. He dropped the match, and his pants must have been wildly flammable. Next thing you knew, he was dancing across the room, batting at the flames, while the mourning family watched in horror. It was all anyone talked about for weeks. He was so embarrassed.”

  “When we get back, you have to tell me all your cringey stories about him,” Sable says. “Promise?”

  Ridge enters the room, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the two women. “What’s going on here?”

  Sable clamps her mouth shut and attempts to wipe the grin off her face, but her eyes are still dancing mischievously. “You know you’re supposed to extinguish matches before you drop them, right?”

  Ridge turns his narrowed gaze on Amora, who simply smiles enigmatically.

  I shoulder my pack and nudge the other alpha with my elbow. “Don’t sweat it, man. My dad’s been telling her embarrassing stories about me every time he sees her.”

  “I just feel closer to all of you that way,” Sable teases. “It makes you less like fearsome alphas and more like normal, adorable men.” She touches my cheek, and I melt at the tips of her fingers.

  Nobody can disarm an alpha quite like their mate.

  Trystan and Dare join us, and we gather in the front yard to shift. The sun is long gone from the sky, replaced with the purple of deep twilight. The feeling that we’ve timed this wrong rises up inside me again. I have the unsettling thought that things are just going to get harder from here, but I tamp back my emotions and prepare for the hunt.

  “I could go with you,” Amora offers. “You can’t go wrong with more manpower.”

  “No, I want you here. With the pack,” Ridge replies pointedly. “But I appreciate your willingness to help.”

  It’s clear to me what he’s saying without actually putting it to words.

  We don’t know what to expect when we get to Sable’s uncle’s house. The last time we were there, our presence revealed to him that Sable is in shifter hands. For all we know, he’s since added weapons to his repertoire that could cause big problems for us.

  Ridge wants Amora to remain behind in case none of us come back.

  27

  Sable

  Shifting comes strangely easily, now that I know the wolf exists inside me. The getting naked right before shifting part is not as easy, because old, modest habits die hard, but I do it anyway. I figure the more I get naked—both in and out of bed—the more I’ll get used to it.

  It’s odd running alongside my mates after so many trips where I rode on Ridge’s back. My wolf is a little unwieldy, and my paws feel like giant trash can lids beneath me, so the first half-mile of racing across the plains is a stumbling nightmare. At least I don’t pitch over and end up on my face like a newborn giraffe learning to walk.

  But at some point, something clicks, and suddenly I’m flying, all the parts of my body working together in tandem. It’s as natural as breathing, and I want to howl my excitement at the rising moon.

  My mates have made this trip before, so I fall in line in the center of the small pack while Ridge and Archer take the lead. My mind is too busy chasing ghosts—thinking of the years I suffered under my uncle’s reign of terror—to notice how far we run or how much time passes. The night sky is vast and dark, sprinkled with thousands of stars. Running through the woods makes me think of Devil’s Ditch, the place where Ridge found me the night I ran away from my uncle, and how we’ve come full circle.

  Now we’re headed back to Clint. Yet so much is different now.

  I’m different.

  And no matter what happens, I won’t let him hurt me again.

  I race forward, breathing the cool, brisk air and feeling like I’ve finally found my place in the world. Out here in the Montana wilderness, nothing else feels as big and vast as the starry sky above. It’s a gentle reminder that the world will go on no matter what we find out tonight, and I cling to that thought in a desperate attempt to stave off the fear that churns inside me.

  We stop by Clint’s house first and find it empty, all the lights out. His giant pickup truck is sitting in the driveway, but he’s definitely not home.

  He’s probably at the bar, I say, using the strange mind-speak that allows me to project my thoughts into the men’s heads. It’s in town. I don’t know exactly where it is, but it can’t be too hard to find.

  We’ll head downtown. We’ll be able to smell the pheromones, Ridge tells me, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

  Getting used to everything having a scent—even old guys trying to get laid in a bar—will be the hardest part of this transition. There are some things I just don’t need to know about.

  We stick to the shadows as we walk through the downtown area. I’ve only seen this place a handful of times before. My most recent trip down these streets was while riding on Ridge’s back after they rescued me from my uncle. It’s a small, run down town full of buildings with old, wooden facades and faded signs out front. Flickering street lights illuminate cracked sidewalks but are dim enough to cast much of the street in shadow.

  And it turns out Ridge wasn’t exaggerating—I smell the bar before I see it. It’s a heady smell that makes me think of whiskey barrels, body odor, and desperation.

  We move one by one as we pass through the glow of the streetlamps and into the back alley where we won’t be seen, keeping an eye on the few patrons crowding around the sidewalk outside to ensure they don’t notice us.

  Concealed in the alley, Ridge nudges me with his snout. Can you smell your uncle?

  Through the haze of lust and despair? A small growl reverberates in my throat. No.

  I think I can, Dare offers. Obviously I’m going off the memory of one night around him, but I’m pretty fucking sure he’s in there.

  Ridge nods. Good. We wait for him to emerge, and we’ll ambush him once he’s away from the crowds.

  What if he’s with buddies? Trystan asks. Maybe he’s got a ride home.

  We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Ridge huffs out a breath. We can take down a car if we have to.

  I have no way of marking time, but it feels as if an hour or more passes. Customers ebb and flow from the bar, voices and laughter drifting through the night. I hear more than one glass break inside the building, and I’m surprised all over again by how sensitive my hearing is. A few times, I even think I catch a few words spoken in Clint’s gravelly voice. As with my witch side, there’s so much I have to explore when it comes to my wolf. At least wi
th the shifter aspect of myself, I’m looking forward to learning. That side of me can’t kill the people I love by accident. It doesn’t whisper insidious things inside my head.

  Finally, Dare sits up at attention, his black snout turning toward the front of the bar, hidden from view down the alleyway. He’s leaving.

  So are we, Ridge says. Archer, take point. Dare, bring up the rear. Sable, remember what I said. If things go sideways and we tell you to run, you do it.

  Okay, I reply, though I know damn good and well that if things go bad, I’ll no sooner leave my mates than I’d willingly give myself over alive to Clint.

  The man in question is already two blocks down the road, weaving drunkenly down the sidewalk with his big hands shoved in his blue jeans pockets. No ride tonight then. Maybe his companion found a lady friend to take home and left Clint on his own.

  Good.

  His shoulders are stooped in his short-sleeve plaid shirt, and he’s wearing one of his stupid wide-brimmed cowboy hats. A blue one, which clashes with his red shirt.

  But with those bright colors and the drunken scrape of his boots on asphalt, we have no problem tailing him through the dark from a safe distance away.

  We leave the center of town behind, and the last of the street lights fade into dim glowing points behind us. Clint swerves and nearly falls over as he takes a right-hand turn down a narrow dirt road. We’re nearing his house, I realize. It’s just at the end of this road.

  This is going to be almost too easy. The man clearly imbibed more whiskey than he should have while he sat at the bar, shooting the shit with his friends. My mates will be able to take him down with a single paw, and then we can get the answers we need before deciding our next move.

  A part of me wonders… could we kill him? Rid the world of this stain before he finds another young girl to hurt? I know I probably couldn’t murder him in cold blood. Not on my own. I’m no killer. But my mates… they’re predators at heart. If I asked them to kill my uncle, I think they would.

  So the question remains—can I even ask?

  Should I?

  I’m padding softly along the grass behind Ridge and Archer, lost in my ‘what ifs’, when his stride suddenly changes. His stooped shoulders straighten as he whirls around in a flash, his steps sure and confident.

  Black smoke curls from his hands as he attacks us with magic.

  All five of us react swiftly, our group splintering as we dart off into the shadowy trees as Clint’s magic lashes out to strike at us. I’ve never seen the black smoke magic used like this—a weapon instead of passive fog hanging around in the air. One black tendril strikes the ground near my paws, and I dance away, a small whine escaping me.

  So he is a witch.

  And he’s sharper than we expected. He clearly knew we were following him and waited for the right time to surprise us.

  Stay back, Sable! Trystan roars, and as one, my four mates converge on Clint.

  Archer’s blond wolf leaps onto Clint’s back, his jaws latching onto the man’s neck, while Ridge, Trystan, and Dare lunge from the front. Clint’s craggy face is furious, and he launches another magical attack. Two massive tendrils spiral away from his hands and knock Ridge and Trystan out of the way before they can make contact with him. But before he can regroup and send another tendril out, Dare tackles him, teeth snapping in Clint’s face, and they fall to the ground.

  Archer leaps away from the falling man, his jaws dripping blood. I can see the dark liquid shining on Clint’s neck from where my mate tried to subdue him from behind. Dare isn’t alone for long before Ridge and Trystan bound back into motion and leap in to help him pin the man down.

  Clint is wily with his magic though.

  He blasts out a thick black cloud, sending all four shifters flying through the air. Archer hits the ground near my paws, and I race forward, nudging him with my nose. His green eyes blink away the daze from the blow, and then he scrambles to his feet, urging me back into the shadows before he leaps back into the fray.

  I pace along the trees, my hackles raised and my breaths coming in shallow, nervous pants. I’m helpless to do anything. I wish I could add my magic to the fight—use it to take down Clint before he can hurt the men I love, but I still don’t know enough about using my powers to risk trying. What if I hurt my mates? It’s my biggest fear, and in the dark like this, with Clint and the shifters rolling and jumping, snapping and biting with magic flying, the odds are good I’d screw things up.

  Unfortunately for my uncle, he’s up against four strong alphas. Four alphas who have a grudge to settle, and who hate him for what he’s done to me. The fight is vicious and brutal, but eventually, they wear him down and get the upper hand.

  Archer’s wolf clamps its jaw around his neck, teeth making indentations on his skin, while Dare and Trystan pin his arms to keep him from using magic. Clint is bleeding from multiple places on his body, his shirt half torn off and wounds covering his torso. Maybe it makes me a monster, but I appreciate the poetic justice of it—seeing him bleed the way he once made me bleed.

  My mates begin to shift back into human form, so I follow suit. I’m too heartened by them winning the battle to worry too much about being naked… until I step up onto the dirt driveway and a cool breeze brushes over my bare skin. The marks on my skin flare like a network of shadows passing over my body. I suddenly feel vulnerable and exposed, facing my biggest fear with nothing to hide me.

  Ridge is kneeling on Clint’s chest, while Trystan practically sits on his head. As if by unspoken agreement, Dare and Archer stand to join me, forming a barrier between me and my uncle.

  But Clint’s eyes widen as I come toward him out of the darkness.

  “It’s you,” he croaks. Victory resonates in his tone despite the raspy quality of his voice. “It worked.”

  28

  Sable

  For a long, interminable moment, my uncle and I stare at each other, neither of us moving.

  Hell, I’m hardly even breathing while I try desperately not to fall into my old habits. I am not afraid of this man anymore. I will not bow to him or show him any weakness. I’m not hiding any longer. And right now, he looks like a coward, weak and incapable with his aged body crumpled and bloody beneath my shifters.

  Suddenly, Clint laughs, a wild and maniacal sound that sends a shiver racing up my spine. I’ve never heard him sound so unhinged. His laugh echoes off the landscape around us, and the echo only makes him sound crazier. He turns his head and spits blood on the ground.

  “They told me I was insane,” he says, almost as if to himself rather than to us. “Told me I couldn’t do it. And look at you. It worked.”

  Dare and Archer step in closer to me as if to hide me from his sight, even as I’m trying to see around them.

  “What worked?” I snap.

  “Might as well let her pass, boys.” Clint leers gleefully to the two shifters barricading me from him. “No need for modesty. I’m not her uncle. And we have things to discuss.”

  Dare and Archer exchange glances, but they step aside enough for me to better see Clint. There’s a sort of wild look in his eyes—wilder than his laugh indicated, as if seeing me shift back from wolf form was enough to set him off into insanity.

  “What worked?” I repeat, proud of myself that I speak without the slightest tremor in my voice.

  “You worked!” He cackles, his eyes rolling in his head and his feet stamping the ground like an animal in its death throes. Then his gaze shoots back to mine, and his mouth opens in a ferocious slash of a smile. “Your parents were a special experiment of mine. I wanted to prove it could be done, and I did. I can see the magic inside you. I can feel it. It sings to me.” Clint’s eyes glitter dangerously as he laughs again.

  “Stop talking in circles!” I snarl, and my wolf shines through for just a second in that sound. “You’re clearly proud of yourself. Tell me what you did.”

  Clint’s face twists into an even wider grin. “I successfully cross-bred a wit
ch and wolf. It’s never been done before, you know. It’s taboo. Considered verboten. But I knew it was possible. And I knew that if it worked, it would give us a tool to use against the wolves. Now… look at you.”

  It takes me a minute to wade through the depths of his insanity and process his words.

  I successfully cross-bred a witch and a wolf.

  So that means my parents were both.

  One witch. One wolf.

  Did they just… allow Clint to manipulate them? Or were they complicit?

  I hate the feeling of his gaze on me. He isn’t leering at my body or acting like he wants to hurt me. For once, he looks fucking proud of me, and I despise the expression on his face with every atom in my body. It’s the face of a mad scientist whose experiment has worked. The face of Victor Frankenstein watching his unnatural creation come to life.

  God. I’m Frankenstein’s monster.

  “For the longest time, I didn’t think it had worked,” Clint goes on when I don’t respond. “No matter what torture I submitted you to, nothing happened. I thought I’d failed.”

  Holy shit. He tortured me on purpose to trigger the transition.

  “You did fail,” I bite out as fury floods through me. “I’ll never join the witches. I’ll never help you fight against the wolves.”

  “Oh?” Clint gives me a knowing look, and another raspy laugh bubbles up his throat. The insane gleam in his eye sparkles dangerously. “The magic hasn’t already spoken to you?”

  Horror turns my body cold and numb. I remember the darkness hovering over my bed during my transition.

  It pushed me. Taunted me. Goaded me.

  Kill them all.

  But I fought it. I didn’t hurt any of my men during that transition. I told that voice no, and I fought it off.

  Didn’t I?

  Could he be right? Am I a ticking time bomb with no control over the magic?