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

by E Hall

  “Kenna, funny to find you still here, considering the Alpha Guardians and Warriors Council had a summit tonight. I thought for sure you’d be run through with a flaming sword of iron and silver. But I see your head is still on your shoulders. Likely, not for much longer,” she says in a monotone.

  I push against the goosebumps that pebble across my skin. Is that where Corbin went? Why didn’t he tell me? Her attempt at making me uncomfortable works, but I won’t let her know she got under my skin.

  “Funny? No, I’d say this situation is problematic, considering you were the one banished from pack lands.” I don’t even want to think about why she was approaching my window.

  She shakes her head. “No, this was my home first. You’re the problem, the invader.”

  “Are you upset you didn’t win the Mate Call-Out?” I ask.

  “I would’ve won if you didn’t run off and dare I say, cry wolf. Oh, boo hoo, poor Kenna can’t handle a little blood.” She extends her bare arm and without hesitating slices a gash across her skin. She angles the wound at me.

  My stomach flip flops the way it always has when I see blood. The longing and thirst disgusts me.

  I close off my senses and gaze at the top of Amanda’s head—anywhere but at the blood. I force myself not to breathe, not to entertain the way it summons the vampire within.

  A menacing laugh escapes Amanda’s lips. She steps closer. Her hair, her eyes, everything about her is wild, unhinged. “It’s probably better I rid myself of this place when I did. Soon, it will be crawling with the police.”

  I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Why’s that?”

  “They’ll want to question the witnesses of course. They’ll wonder if the victims hit their heads while hiking or if a tree fell. But they’ll figure out the truth.”

  I disguise my shudder by leaning against the windowsill.

  “When they find the bodies, there will be bruises, cuts, abrasions. On some, there will be bites. On others none. Some will go missing entirely. They’ll wonder was if it’s a rogue wolf. Corbin won’t like that. But then the vamps and fae will get involved. You should’ve gone quietly when you could, Kenna. From where I stand, it’ll all be over soon. You will just be a memory. A bad dream. Have any of those lately?” She laughs and then in a blink, she disappears.

  I should call for the betas. The static of my wolf shifter magic fills my ears. My wolf wants to handle this herself. The other elements of magic within me fight for freedom.

  The shift begins as my bedroom door flies open. Inga and Claude stand there, also mid-shift. “What’s going on? We heard—”

  I glance at the window. “Amanda.”

  Their eyes widen.

  We all return to our physical forms.

  “One minute she was there. Then poof. Gone.” I explain what else she said.

  The betas exchange a rumpled look of concern.

  “I should’ve called for you right away. I’m sorry. That was stupid.”

  “No, you should’ve called for Corbin,” Inga says.

  “He’s not here—” I start.

  Then my senses are on alert. They melt with relief. Corbin’s massive and muscled frame fills the doorway. In a few quick strides, I fall into his arms.

  However, instead of a warm hug, his embrace is stiff. He brushes past me and to the window, before tucking through and shifting then disappearing into the night.

  Fog sweeps in. I lose track of him. I’m about to shift, but Inga’s hand rests on my arm.

  “He was at the summit and probably has a lot on his mind. Get some rest. We’ll find out more in the morning.”

  I want to argue, but don’t yet dare assert my Alpha. Not until it’s official, which begs the question, why isn’t it? Why haven’t I committed to the pack? Sealed with my true mate?

  Claude and Inga say goodnight. When I hear them disappear into their rooms, I dig in my backpack. I need a midnight snack. I’m searching for a Hershey’s chocolate kiss that I stashed ages ago when I hear a peculiar sound that’s almost like a humming. It’s not a heater or fan or anything mechanical.

  I close the window and drop onto the bed. The shadowed light casts fluid, geometric shapes on the wood floor. I watch out the window, half expecting Corbin to return, but once more, I’m alone.

  Again, I hear a sound, not a rustling or the patter of footsteps. Rather, it’s like someone is singing. The wolves like their music loud and aren’t bashful about singing along. But this tune is different, softer, otherworldly.

  A sense of familiarity flushes through me, stirring my stomach with uncertainty. I pull out my diary. The one left to me at my parents’ house is underneath. I should write an entry about how peculiar Corbin has been and about Amanda’s warnings when the song comes again.

  I flip the stack of diaries and open the old, leather one. As I part the cover, I hear my name in the song carrying across the pages. I slam it shut, unnerved. Yet, I’m certain it was a woman’s lyrical singing. Or maybe I’m losing my mind.

  I blink in the darkness, trying to convince myself it was from somewhere in the lodge. There’s no shaft of light coming from under the door, telling me others are awake.

  I lean back on my pillow and open the diary again. The song is like a soothing lullaby.

  When the dawn light spills gray through the slit in the curtain, the buttery pancakes from the lodge’s kitchen tells me it’s time to get up.

  The diary lay closed by my side, and the night before catches up with me. When I visited Lonsdale, the manor in Cardington, Corbin warned me about magical objects. I stash the diary at the bottom of my backpack, promising myself I’ll find out more about it while also warning myself not to open it again until I do. Yet, I can’t help but want to part the pages again now.

  A light knock on the door startles me. Sleepily, I open it to find Inga looking as exhausted as I feel.

  She skips pleasantries. “They found a young man that washed up along the river that cuts across our land. I guess Amanda wasn’t wasting any time.”

  My hand slaps across my mouth. Instant regret fills me. “That’s awful. Do you really think she did it?”

  Inga places her hand on my arm. “It could be a coincidence, but...not likely. Corbin called a meeting in the den. I figured you ought to hear about it first considering last night’s events.”

  But how could Amanda have done so with the Accords spell preventing her? I get dressed and hasten to the kitchen even though I left my appetite somewhere in the vicinity of Inga’s bad news.

  When I enter, everyone falls silent and dozens of pairs of eyes land on me. I suddenly realize they think I was the one who killed the guy by the river. I’m the monster. I want to back away slowly while at the same time convince them it wasn’t me.

  I glance around, looking for backup, but the betas are in the meeting.

  A newspaper crinkles in the hands of a wolf shifter with a plate of half-eaten blueberry pancakes in front of him. “Nothing like this has happened for decades. Then you show up and—”

  A girl with a mop of ashy brown hair steps closer. “How many more will there be until someone stops you?”

  “You’re lucky our Alpha trusts you.” A guy with wire-rim glasses sneers.

  I flinch. “It wasn’t me—” But my voice drowns in the cacophony of speculation.

  Backing away until I’m in the long hallway that leads to the garage, my entire body is spasming, my nerves electric with anger and frustration, confusion and hurt.

  I have to get out of here. The wolves have a welcome habit of leaving the keys in the ignition of their vehicles. Many are communal cars so they’re fair game. I’ve taken liberties with the Jeep before, and I’ll do it again if only to get space between myself and the accusations.

  My vision slides out of focus for a moment. A fading sensation overwhelms me. I grip the cold metal of a sleek, black pickup truck. I blink a few times. Must be low blood sugar. I know just where to go to fix that.

  As I get
behind the wheel—the truck was closest— everything becomes hyper-vivid. It’s even more so than when my wolf senses became activated. It’s like going from watching a black and white television screen to color. Maybe it’s the fae or vampire seizing hold?

  Well, whatever. I need a doughnut.

  Chapter 4

  Corbin

  “Enough,” I shout over the edgy chatter among the wolves in the kitchen.

  Everyone falls silent.

  “Kenna had nothing to do with the death of the young man by the river.” I battle with my inner wolf. I want to go after Kenna, but I need to deal with my pack and what the deaths will mean for us since they’re in such close proximity to our borders.

  “Then what’s going on?” Heather asks. “She’s the MMW. Doesn’t that make her a prime suspect?”

  I glance out the window. The morning sun is a welcome match in the sky that sends little flames dancing across the fields. It’s the perfect kind of day to catch a werewolf, find Greyson Slade, and restore the peace in our world.

  Disregarding the question about Kenna, I make another snap decision. “Listen up, it’s time to expose Greyson Slade and the Klave once and for all.”

  Those gathered cheer, having been subject to or heard the many stories of his cruelty.

  “Any idea where he is?” Harper asks.

  Honesty trumps my ego. “No idea, but Kenna is going to help.”

  “Just like she helped lure out the Klave during the Mate Call-Out?” Avril crosses her arms in front of her chest and casts me a smug smile. “Oh, wait. That was a big fat fail. She freaked and ran when she saw blood.”

  “She’s not stable,” Hannah says.

  “Leave that part to me. All of you are going to protect our land, the humans in the area, and capture the werewolf.”

  They go silent, likely at the inherent danger of tracking the cursed wolf—if it bites any of them, they’ll become a werewolf too.

  “Together with the betas, you’re going to do whatever needs to be done to bring her back alive.”

  “Her?” Avril asks.

  I smirk, realizing now I’m repeating what Melchior said. Did he know the gender of the cursed wolf or was it just a slip? Thinking back, the entire meeting was strange. Ivan buying me more time for one. Melchior’s insistence that we eliminate the MMW wasn’t out of character, but his comments about time were. I’m going to follow my hunch that the fae king knows more than he’s letting on.

  Time for me to drop some truth. “Yes, it’s a female wolf and Amanda is helping her.”

  There are a few gasps.

  I sit down at the long table with a plate of pancakes. “Everyone gather around. We’re going to discuss everything we know.”

  Almost all my wolves seem pleased with the idea of teamwork. Since Kenna’s arrival, I’ve been less hands on than usual.

  “The police found the body early this morning,” Baker says.

  “It’s still early this morning,” Trigg comments, stumbling in with an enormous yawn. “What did I miss?”

  Avril fills him in.

  “So what happened?” asks a male subordinate seated next to Harper.

  “Without getting into the gore, they discovered a young man dead by the river. But a killer fish or some kind of oozing toxic byproduct of a government conspiracy floating around in the shallows didn’t cause the death.” Baker clears his throat. “The police seem to think it’s the same as the others.”

  “Maybe it’s a ghost,” Trigg blurts around a lazy laugh.

  Only a few others join in. These tragedies hit hard.

  “Everyone needs to be vigilant. Patrol in groups of five. Expand the usual perimeter and if you find anything suspicious, report back to me. Betas, go door to door, visiting the locals, warning them about unusual activity that doesn’t have to do with us, but that we’re increasing precautions.”

  “But it does have to do with us,” Avril says. “Your new girlfriend brought this upon the pack.”

  I get up from the table and my chair skids across the floor. “No, Avril, this was coming all along. It was a matter of time.”

  I leave the kitchen and go to the garage. Discovering a truck is missing, I inhale, catching Kenna’s scent. A little growl escapes. If she’s not here, she might not be safe.

  I get in the Jeep and peel out of the driveway, heading for town. I follow Kenna’s trail to Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice Bakery. Figures.

  Even though I devoured the pancakes, the fried cinnamon scent of doughnuts layered with baked blueberries and yeasty dough teases my taste buds.

  Shortly after we first met, my wolf connected with Kenna, and it turns out, there are a few things I like about her too. Not like, no, love. But love comes with a cost. Our love is forbidden. While I want to be with her and protect her, I also have to look after my pack and the rest of the world.

  I park the Jeep and wait for her to come out of the bakery. I’m starting to understand Melchior’s urgency. Tapping my fingers on the wheel, I don’t have all day to wait for her to buy a doughnut.

  Still in the Jeep and using my wolf vision, I peer inside the bakery. She’s not there. That’s odd. I get out to check the bookstore. It’s empty except for a black and white cat lounging in a patch of sunlight and the clerk who’s reading behind the counter. I try the pottery gallery, but Kenna isn’t there either. Two women walking a golden retriever break up the other side of the street.

  I pass the alley that leads behind the bakery. Dread drops into my stomach as the first time I encountered Kenna in Intherness comes to mind. Voices filter to my ears.

  “The homemade sandwich bread rivals the queen’s.” A female giggles.

  “I’d argue for the chocolate chip cookies,” Kenna says.

  I let out my breath. Having gotten to know her, it comes as no surprise that she’s chatting about baked goods when the magical world is at risk. She has no idea the magnitude of what we face or who she is.

  “You’d have to take that up with the king. He has a highly refined cookie palate.”

  They both laugh.

  “So how are things with you and the hottie?” the female voice asks.

  I involuntarily raise my eyebrows but don’t want to hear the rest because I’m pretty sure the hottie is me.

  I silently return to the front of the bakery and then casually go in. The bells chime and a young woman with ginger hair and around Kenna’s age appears from the back. She wears a flour stained-apron. Her eyes widen when she sees me. Instead of asking what she can get for me, she calls, “Kenna, I think your order is up.”

  Kenna’s long, reddish hair sits on top of her head in a messy bun. She too wears a flour-stained apron. Her brow creases with surprise, and I want to kiss away the wrinkles it forms. I want to kiss away all this madness. But I have a job to do.

  “Should I have you arrested for auto theft?” I mean it as a joke, but my tone comes out flat.

  She strides out from behind the counter and doesn’t stop when she’s inches from me, backing me toward the coffee station and out of earshot. I get the sense she’s not pleased by my comment. “It’s not stealing if the keys are in it. Moreover, if anyone is going to be arrested, it’s you.”

  Her smoky eyes meet mine. It’s all I can do not to lower my lips to hers and smother whatever else she’s going to say.

  “You abducted me first, Corbin,” she hisses.

  “I think of it more like saving your life. Right now, I have a few more on my hands.” Just as I’m about to tell her someone else went missing, a few local hunters enter the bakery.

  “I’m going to get that breakfast egg sandwich, the one with the pepper jack cheese and spicy sausage,” says Carl, a thick man with a ruddy face.

  “I’ll just grab a coffee. Can’t eat at a time like this,” replies, George, another local.

  They both wear camouflage jackets.

  Kenna and I shuffle out of the way of the coffee station.

  “You hear about that youn
g fellow down by the river?” George asks Pepper, the girl behind the counter.

  “Such a shame. I say we need to go on a hunt. Find what’s taking these guys out.” Carl grits his teeth.

  Kenna stiffens beside me. Tension creeps into my muscles.

  “I heard it’s bigfoot or a yeti,” Pepper says as though trying to lighten the mood.

  The shortness of their guffaws suggests an undertone of nervousness.

  “I’d say those are tall tales,” Carl says.

  “Whatever it is, it isn’t eating the victims.” George fastens the top on his to-go coffee. “At least not all of them.”

  “You hear howls from that compound up on the edge of the Montmartres. Could be a werewolf,” Carl says.

  My inner wolf growls even though he’s not entirely wrong.

  The bell on the door jingles, sending a cool blast of air through the bakery. I instantly scent fae. I turn slowly and recognize the spindly guy, Clove, who turned up at Lonsdale a couple of months ago.

  “Hey, Pepper,” he says, approaching the counter.

  “It’s all just speculation, anyway.” George’s tries to hide a tremble in his hands.

  “Is there anything else I can get you?” Pepper asks the locals.

  “This is perfect, thanks,” George says. “Be careful out there.”

  She nods and then eyes Kenna carefully. I get the sense she knows more about her identity than the average person should.

  “We should go,” I tell Kenna.

  Her hand is on her hip. “I have some baking to do. It seems the pack doesn’t appreciate my efforts.”

  “What? I told you they devoured those muffins.”

  She cocks her head. “I found them in the trash.”

  My heart lurches.

  Kenna goes still.

  “Three people dead. Doesn’t it freak you out, even a little?” Pepper asks Clove. “I’ll be staying off the trails. No hiking for me. You on the other hand...” she says.

  The fae smooths his hand down his tweed jacket. He’s got a preppy boy looking going on. “What do you mean? Me?”

  Pepper turns her head slowly in Kenna’s direction and then her green eyes meet mine. “What’s the common denominator?”