Wolf Shifter Diaries: Lies Tamed (Sweet Paranormal Wolf & Fae Fantasy Romance Series Book 2)

by E Hall

  A beat passes. I have the urge to rush from the water.

  “Slade, huh?” Heather asks. “As in Greyson Slade.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I answer honestly at the reference to my absentee and controversial father.

  “I guess you took his place as Magical’s Most Wanted,” Harper says.

  “I didn’t know that was a thing, and I’m certainly not competing for the position. Unless there’s a prize of some sort. Like a lifetime supply of doughnuts or—” My joke falls flat.

  “As far as we’re concerned, he may as well be dead so you can take his place,” Avril says.

  The words cut the air from the room.

  “Lucky for you, you have Corbin on your side, otherwise I have no doubt the Council would already have sent you to the Iron Tower,” Heather adds.

  I hadn’t thought much about my father’s legacy simply because I know so little about him, but I never thought I would be the target of so much venom.

  Avril snickers. Up close, the others look a little younger than her. Wolves can be old, but fully synthesize with their magic at eighteen and stop aging.

  I also hadn’t thought about how Corbin managed to keep the Council off my tail all summer. He’s the Alpha wolf, so maybe he had some leverage. Whatever the case, I’d like to find out...and why my father is such a problem.

  “What did Greyson Slade ever do to you?” I ask.

  Avril’s expression darkens. She leans closer, so she’s inches from my face. Pulling her hair from her neck, she reveals scars like she once wore a collar. “He’s a monster, and so are you.”

  Anger starts to boil inside. If these were shark-infested waters, the temperature would be going up a few degrees. My wolf edges closer to the surface.

  “I can’t take responsibility for what Greyson did. But I’m sorry, whatever it was that happened to you.” I get to my feet. “I don’t know what I am, but I know I am not a monster. I wouldn’t do anything like that to hurt you or the rest of the pack.”

  I leave the room, trying to shake off the anger and ache. But also not quite believing what I said. I don’t know what I am, and depending on what happens, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hang onto who I am.

  Chapter 2

  Corbin

  Kenna can only use the wolf-way of communication with me, but I’m tuned into my pack. I don’t like the way the others are behaving toward her—I didn’t have the heart to tell her Avril tossed the muffins.

  I have to focus on the meeting in the den right now and not that or the way the starlight illuminates her pearly skin when we meet at night and before we shift. Not the way her smoky gray eyes are as full and as alluring as the sky, or how her hair cascades around her bare shoulders after we shift, her smooth curves, or the way she tastes when we kiss.

  I tell my wolf to shut it down...at least for now.

  Baker briefs me that the Alpha Guardians and Warriors Council called a summit. Of course, it’s about Kenna. Since her identity was exposed at the Mate Call-Out, the Council has been on my back about putting her on trial. The thing is, she hasn’t committed any crimes.

  According to what we’ve been taught, her existence as a tri-magical is unlawful. Having gotten to know her, I’m certain she wouldn’t harm anyone intentionally. However, she must train and learn how to use her power. The trouble is, whoever volunteers to do that might exploit her or she could fall into the hands of the Klave.

  I’ve been able to stave off the Council because we’ve been busy trying to track down the renegade werewolf. If anything, she’s of greater concern. Months have passed without any sign of her presence, but John Stafford hiking with a rifle suggests she’s afoot. Humans’ senses pale in comparison to wolves, but they do have gut instincts. I can’t ignore that John thought it was a good idea to take a hike with a gun in hand.

  Baker urges me to gain a few more weeks before I meet with the Council so he can continue his database analysis to determine the identity of the rogue wolf. However, the conversation earlier that Avril, Heather, Harper, and Hannah had about Kenna gets loud in my ears.

  If this were any other pack, a fight would’ve already broken out if anyone stupidly threw words around as Avril did. There’s a reason she’s not at the den meeting. My fists flex the same as they did when I gathered how poorly she treated Kenna and threw the muffins away. When I won the Alpha role, I put unnecessary violence behind me. The key to the success of Pack Hjalmor is that we’re family first. Warriors second. That’s how it works.

  “Corbin, you seem distracted,” Trigg says.

  “Tell your girlfriend to back off,” I grind out.

  He startles. “What do you mean? She’s not even here.”

  Of course, he’s not tuned into pack communication like I am. “I overheard her and some of the other girls being nasty. I don’t dig how cliché that is. We’re better than that.”

  He exhales long as if he knows all too well about Avril’s attitude.

  “I’m questioning her role as beta,” I tell him.

  “She thinks you’re entranced by Kenna and vying to get her into position among the betas.”

  I bark a laugh. If they only knew Kenna is an Alpha. “Nope,” I say shortly. “The reason Avril isn’t here is that she’s not upholding the values of the betas or, quite frankly, Pack Hjalmor. But that’s not why we’re having this meeting.” I turn my attention back to Baker.

  An uncomfortable beat passes before he speaks again. There’s no mistaking the shift in energy among us. Before Kenna came here, things were relatively peaceful and harmonious. Her arrival has thrown things off, but if I hadn’t reached her first, things could be much worse.

  No one knows the entirety of the story. Not even me. Right now, my priority is to keep Kenna away from the Klave...and the Council for now. I let the simmering just beneath my skin roll away.

  Focus. Remain civil. My fists unclench, and I tell myself to let it go, for now.

  “So, where was the werewolf last seen?” I ask.

  Baker sucks in his cheeks and raises an eyebrow. “Armenia. However, of greater interest is her identity. As I said, I’m scraping the magical ancestry archives.”

  “Why? We know she’s a wolf,” Claude says.

  My wolf sense prickles. “No. She’s not.”

  Baker clicks his tongue in confirmation. “We assumed she’s a wolf because of the werewolf curse, commonly known as a night howl. But no. She was not originally a wolf.”

  “What was she?” Camilla asks with a twinge of nervousness in her tone.

  “Not sure. But not a wolf.”

  “Keep at it. When is this summit?” I ask.

  This time, Baker’s expression falls. “It’s tonight.”

  I grunt. The others are quiet. We all know this means I’ll have to turn Kenna over or buy more time. The latter is unlikely.

  My mind carves out possibilities while my body wants nothing more than a chainsaw in hand and a few logs to cut up to blow off some steam. But I have responsibilities to my wolves and my future mate.

  “I’ll figure something out.” Rather, my wolf will.

  I stride toward the door as the shift starts to take place within. The creature’s dense bones and powerful muscles angle into position. My skin disappears into a mass of gray fur. My heart and lungs and everything that makes me look human pops and snaps and takes a new shape. I drop into that particular place of open concentration, syncing up with the animal inside and letting my mind flow into the current of otherworldly energy.

  Once more, I take to the trails, eager to get to one of Montmartres peaks. There, I’ll be able to think. As the trees fall away and the air cools, the crashing thoughts disappear. I bask in this openness within and around me, knowing that everything will be waiting for me when I shift again. Hopefully, that includes answers.

  When I return to HQ, my breathing is easier. There’s no hitch or hiccup. My wolf calmed me. The answer I needed was in that open space. I realized that I need to put space b
etween myself and Kenna. It pains me to even think that, but we haven’t sealed our mate bond, so I can make the Council think that I have no care for her other than using her to lure the werewolf out of hiding. It’s flimsy, but I have a feeling we’re close to answers if only we can buy a little more time.

  I can’t bear to think about my life without Kenna. But as Alpha, I will do what I need to do. Right now, that means pretending she doesn’t exist.

  My wolf growls. I ignore him.

  I get in the Jeep and reverse out of the garage. Kenna strides toward me as I shift into drive. Without so much as a goodbye, I pull away.

  Her pretty face falls. She reaches out to wave and calls my name. Guilt slithers through me, but this is for the best. The Council cannot know my true feelings. At least not yet.

  I drive to the airport hangar and the private jet. Having been around for almost a couple hundred years has its benefits. I turned coins into dollars and dollars into millions, bordering on billions. I bought land at the right time, invested well, and we live off the dividends. It’s not a bad gig. On top of that, the Headquarters in Polaris is essentially self-sufficient.

  As the plane takes off, I should use this time to prepare what I will say and how to appeal to the other council members, but my wolf tells me to empty my mind. Stubbornly, he leaves me with Kenna’s image. I growl at him again. For once, I’m going to wing it.

  The summit site isn’t majestic or lofty, given the name. Rather, we meet in an abandoned hotel outside Denmark with broken and boarded windows, peeling wallpaper, and stains on the ceiling. The others are already here and the wards of secrecy are in place.

  I pass through easily, feeling the chill of magic in my bones. I shift from the neck up so they know it’s me. We’re the three representatives in this region and act on behalf of the magicals here.

  “You selected an interesting neutral location this time, Ivan,” I say to the vampire representative on the Council.

  He chuckles. “I had some business in Copenhagen. Figured, I’d check this out. Investment property perhaps?”

  Melchior, the king of the fae, sneers. His distaste for everything human has always been apparent, despite the power of the Articles of Accord. “Let’s begin.”

  The guy doesn’t waste any time. He’s probably ten times my age, and I’d think that at this point, he wouldn’t be in any big rush.

  Melchior taps the scepter on the floor, calling us to order. It makes a hollow sound. I worry about the sturdiness of the moldering wood beneath our feet. The scepter is the symbol of fae might and in a strange twist, the iron shows their strength through that which weakens them.

  Ivan draws his flaming sword, the symbol of vampire strength and the tool that can destroy his kind.

  I pull out the silver dagger with a bone handle, which can kill a wolf, but raise it high as a testament to our fearlessness.

  Melchior’s obsidian eyes flash at the glinting silver in my hand. I bet he’d like to drive it into my heart. In an ancient response, my hackles lift and my wolf claws to get out. Before the Accords, wolves and fae were mortal enemies.

  The fae king, leading this summit, says, “The Alpha Guardians and Warriors Council come to order after calling this summit to discuss the fate of Magical’s Most Wanted, the blaspheme, the forbidden, the monster. Kenna Slade.”

  My claws emerge, and I tuck my hands behind my back.

  “It has been several months, more than I would’ve granted had it been up to me. However, now it’s time to call her to trial for her crimes,” Melchior says.

  “For existing?” I ask.

  Melchior’s lip curls. “I’m beginning to think you have a fondness for the wretch.”

  My jaw ticks.

  Ivan ignores Melchior. “Have you learned anything significant about the werewolf?”

  “Only how to break the curse,” I say.

  “Then you’ve been in touch with my contacts?” Ivan asks.

  “King Callen was amusing...and helpful,” I say, referring to the wolf king from Borea.

  Ivan chuckles.

  “I don’t have time for your idle chitchat,” Melchior says.

  “Isn’t this how diplomacy is done or would you prefer a dictatorship—your way or no way?” Ivan says measuredly.

  I sense a mite of tension between the fae king and vampire.

  “By the Articles of Accord, when we discovered the offspring of Greyson Slade and the vampire, we agreed to destroy it,” Melchior says.

  My fists curl. My claws dig into my skin.

  “By the way you said the word vampire, for a moment, I thought you placed blame with us. Let me remind you that Greyson is fae too,” Ivan hisses at Melchior.

  “Despite my repeated attempts to end Greyson, yes, he’s fae and wolf.” Melchior tightens his grip around the scepter and glares at both of us.

  “It might be interesting to note that the werewolf wasn’t originally a shifter,” I say, getting back to the subject I’m most concerned about.

  “Are you suggesting she was fae?” Melchior asks, affronted.

  “I neither implied the werewolf was fae nor female,” I reply. Once more my wolf senses prick. How did Melchior know the werewolf was female?

  “But she could be,” Ivan says. He rolls his shoulders.

  The tension in the shabby room tightens. I sense the faintest tug of the vampire mesmer to influence moods and emotions. My attention flashes to Ivan, who warded the room with runes. Then I gaze at Melchior, who shows no recognition that the vampire was trying to ply us with his power. My brow furrows as I try to figure out why Ivan would’ve done that.

  Whatever the reason, it works and Melchior mellows. “After years of strife, fighting among magicals and endangering humans, we banded together. We fought against our base instincts toward violence and murder. Now, an enemy threatens to reverse the spell, causing us to be the beasts we once were. What we have fought to leave as a dark part of history. The only way to protect ourselves and humankind are by upholding the laws we put forth.”

  “Ironic that it involves violence and murder,” I mutter.

  Ivan lifts an eyebrow sharply.

  I continue. “My intention in keeping Kenna Slade among my pack is for the protection of others. She’s aligned with her wolf and doesn’t show overt signs of using her other forms of magic. It was my hope she’d lure the werewolf to us.”

  Then, on the spot, I have an idea influenced by how I used Kenna to expose the Klave. Instead, we learned there is a werewolf on the loose and a member of my pack betrayed us.

  Ivan gives me an almost imperceptible nod, urging me to go on.

  “I will make Kenna find her father and bring him to us. Then we can do with them as we see fit.”

  I don’t think about what this deceit will mean. All I want is time to figure things out, to let her magic manifest, and hopefully bring her fully into my pack and my heart. But doing that means lies and bloodshed. I don’t see any other way.

  Maybe using my fated mate as bait for the third time will be the charm.

  “Are we in agreement?” Ivan asks.

  “How much more time?” Melchior asks.

  “Until Hallows Eve.”

  “No, the Autumn Equinox,” Melchior says.

  “Fine,” I say. A month isn’t much time, but it’s better than nothing.

  “Are we done here?” Melchior asks.

  I extend my silver dagger. The others do the same as the metal and our magic fuses, binding the agreement. I exhale with relief as Melchior exits with a disgusted sniff at the shoddy surroundings.

  Moments later, Ivan traces a Rune of Power on the wall and the room transforms into a place of palatial proportions with crystal chandeliers, inlaid wood trim, and a fresco on the wall that’s undoubtedly from the Renaissance.

  Ivan smirks. “I like to mess with him.”

  “I noticed.”

  “The mesmer?” Ivan asks, brushing his hand in the air like it was no big deal. “I knew you ne
eded more time. Hope it helps. Find Greyson.” Then he disappears with the whoosh of another rune.

  Chapter 3

  Kenna

  I wake from my usual dream with a startle. In physical form, my vision isn’t as keen as my wolf’s, but I plainly see that Corbin isn’t here.

  Some might argue that Corbin sitting in my room at night, watching over and protecting me, is Edward and Bella-level weird. It’s comforting even though I was a Team Jacob girl. Go figure.

  I’ve had dreams about the wolf and me in the meadow on full moon nights for as long as I can remember. When I arrived in Polaris, they came to me every time I fell asleep, but I was also a wolf. As strange as the dreams were, I usually wake with a content feeling as my inner wolf has grown in prominence.

  However, the dream I just had left me feeling the opposite—confused and deserted. Instead of frolicking and playing among the wildflowers, the wolf walked away.

  The image of Corbin pulling away in the Jeep earlier lands in my mind with a thud. The dream feelings and my waking life ones merge, tightening my chest. My breath comes short and sweat dapples my hairline.

  I open the window, desperate for a breath of the brisk air. The full moon wanes as low-hanging clouds back up against the jagged silhouettes of the mountains in the distance. A putrid smell assaults my nose. I peer into the bleak night.

  Despite how lately I’ve had what I call premature hot flashes, I shiver. I snug on Corbin’s hoodie that lays discarded on the chair. As it drops over my face, I inhale the wolfy, woodsy scent. For the tenth time, I wonder where he rushed off to and why he didn’t say goodbye.

  I have a lot to learn about the wolf world and his Alpha role. If I accept a position in the pack—if they accept me—I’ll have to get a crash course in what being Alpha means.

  The tall grass shushes in the light breeze. A figure appears, ambling toward me.

  I stiffen and draw my wolf close.

  Amanda comes into focus. Her stringy, purple hair hangs lank around her thick eyebrows. Dark smudges fill in the space beneath her narrowed eyes, suggesting he hasn’t slept.