TrystanThese council meetings are a waste of my goddamned time.But I come to them because that’s what I’m supposed to do. The alpha plays nice with the other packs. The alpha builds bridges and shakes hands and kisses rancid ass to ensure cooperation between them and us. Inter-pack cooperation and all that stupid bullshit.That doesn’t mean I have to like it.I hate this drafty barn the North Pack has built out of recycled materials and spit, and I especially hate listening to fucking Ridge Harcourt droning on about trespassers on their land, or Archer from the East Pack talking about his sick father.Their problems are real, and they have my sympathies—but their problems aren’t my problems. My pack is doing fine. We’re handling the witch threat, beefing up our own security, and not for the first time, I’m spending every boring second of this meeting wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.The West Pack has never been stronger. My pack hasn’t lost a wolf yet, and those goddamned wit
SableRidge’s growl finally fades, but I swear I can hear an echo of it bouncing off the stark walls of the large building.The room has grown so silent, I feel as if I can hear every breath being taken. Beyond the breathing, I can also feel the weight of every gaze latched on to me, made heavier by the thick tension that clogs the air.I don’t like being the center of attention like this. I don’t like all these eyes on me—not Ridge’s concerned gaze or Lawson’s pissed off one or any of the different levels of emotion in between.My heart pounds with such force that I’m sure every predator here can hear it or sense the blood pumping overtime through my veins. I stand with my feet shoulder width apart, ready to run at the first glimpse of violence, even as fear threatens to turn my knees to jelly. Lawson left the door open, and I will absolutely make my escape if it looks like my only option.Two nights ago, I decided to live life on my terms for once.If it comes to it, I’ll die on my
SableRidge glances at Trystan and Archer, who are both watching us with intense expressions.“I honestly don’t know,” he murmurs, squeezing my hand as he turns back to me. “But there’s something in you that speaks to my wolf. And theirs as well, I guess. We need to find out why.”The elder finishes ushering everyone out and returns to us, his gaze sweeping over me for what seems like the first time. He purses his lips, pity filling his face as he takes in my bedraggled appearance. But I notice a careful sort of distance in his expression too, and I wonder if part of him believes what Lawson said. Does he think I’m a witch???I think it’s best if we go see Elder Jihoon,” he says finally. “Perhaps he can help.”I look to Ridge for an explanation, but he’s exchanging glances with Trystan and Archer. Something unspoken passes between all of them, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip as I attempt to decipher some shred of its meaning.Dammit. I hate this feeling of being outside my dept
SableThe elder’s words send a rush of surprise through me, and I blink away some of the daze.There’s a wolf in me?Looking around at the men who are watching me, I try to work through the detachment I feel. Ridge, Trystan, Archer, even the two elders, these men are all wolves.Wolf shifters, specifically.Part man, part animal.I was able to work through the initial shock when Ridge revealed the truth to me while we sat on his bed this morning. It still sounded bat shit crazy, but I saw that man in his living room shift into a wolf. Seeing is believing, right?But… me? I can’t even process the possibility. I’m just a girl. A girl with an uncle who’s been vicious, cruel… and inhuman.The thought jogs my brain and shakes away the last of the cobwebs. Could Clint be a shifter, too? Were my parents? They must’ve been, if I am.“How?” The word comes out choked and almost too low to be decipherable. “Wouldn’t I know? I’ve… I’ve never shifted in my life.”Elder Jihoon places his metal rods
ArcherThe last thing I expected to find when I came to the council meeting today was a mate. Yet, here I am, watching the woman my wolf has claimed tremble like a leaf in a strong wind and aching to go to her.I don’t though. Not yet.She’s so terrified.Vulnerable.I’ve seen fear like that before. I know fear like that.And I wish like hell I wasn’t part of the cause of it.“I can’t do this,” she says in a light, soft voice, wrapping her arms around her chest. She’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts that are far too big for her—a man’s clothes, probably Ridge’s, and fuck if that doesn’t send a hot wave of jealousy rippling through my wolf. “I don’t want to do this. I can’t be a shifter.”Ridge stands and holds both of his hands out toward her, palms down like she’s a wild pup who needs calming. “Sable, you are a wolf. It isn’t something you can decide not to be.”She shakes her head, her mussed golden hair flinging about. I can see the whites of her eyes as her gaze darts around the too-
SableArcher’s golden, boy-next-door good looks are even more devastating in the oranges and purples of sunset. I have to work hard to focus on his words and not get lost in his brilliant green eyes that remind me of fresh cut grass. He’s taller than Ridge, though not by much, but his presence isn’t as imposing. He doesn’t loom like the other wolves. He doesn’t wear his beast as close to the surface.Despite everything that’s happened, I’m drawn to him. It’s a stupid thing, really. I shouldn’t be drawn to him. I should be drawn to those damn woods and getting the hell away from this mess before I’m too deep to get out. But something about the weight in his voice tells me he’s not lying. He’s not feigning empathy just to keep me from leaping off this ledge and racing away into the sunset.Archer’s been through some things. Some really heavy things. The same kinds of things I have.They… hurt me. When I was young.I can’t help but wonder at his story. What did the witches do to him that
As he zips up the two large packs, Ridge remarks, “This smaller bag is yours. My friend Amora donated some clothes and necessities for you. She’s probably a bit bigger than you, but they should work.”I nod, wondering who Amora is. Is “friend” just a euphemism? Is Amora his girlfriend?The idea that he might belong to someone else makes me crazy with an unreasonable sort of jealousy, and I bite back any desire to question him about her. I’m fragile enough without adding excess fuel to the fire.Leaving the bags by the door, Ridge leaves the room one more time. When he comes back, he’s got a small bottle and a few white pieces of gauze in his hands. He approaches me with smooth, even steps, as if wanting to make sure he doesn’t scare me.He doesn’t though.He’s broad and imposing, but for some reason I’m not afraid of him, even if his presence always seems to take up the whole room.When he reaches me, he kneels on the hardwood floor in front of me, grimacing slightly as he takes in the
RidgeIt’s been a while since I last ran—the full-out sprint of a wolf with a mission or a wolf at play, sprinting through the mountains as if every hill is a racetrack.It’s a freeing kind of run, cosmic and powerful.When I’m on patrol, I keep my steps measured and even. It’s too easy to let the landscape slide by without seeing potential threats if you don’t stop and smell the fucking roses, as my father used to say.My paws thud against the ground and the cool mountain wind whips past my ears. Archer and Trystan flank me, their keen gazes aware of our surroundings even as the trees and rock flash by at lightning speed. If I had to be alone in the wilderness for any indefinite period of time, I have to admit, these two men aren’t the worst backup a wolf could ask for. They’re both strong and smart. Trystan’s attitude problem makes me want to gut him with my bare claws sometimes, and Archer bears more pain than I think he realizes he lets on to the world. Between his abduction as a