The Broken Faewolf's Mate (BlackEdge Pack Book 2)

by Liv Rider

  An unexpected scent hauled him out of his self-pity with the force of a sledgehammer. He came to a complete halt, reeling as his senses beat him over the head with strange wolf!!!!

  You could always tell pack allegiance, and there was no hint of BlackEdge in the male scent. That alone should have sent his instincts into aggressive mode, but it wasn’t aggression that shivered through him. Instead his instincts reacted like a pile of leaves sent airborne, not sure where they should land. What the hell? Trying to ignore his instincts’ weird reaction, Aidan put his nose to the ground and began to follow the scent.

  he sent to Sabas and Hazel.

  The scent was edged with fear, rage…and blood. Aidan broke into a run as soon as the trail grew strong enough he could be sure he wouldn’t lose it. His heart pounded. Why was the strange wolf so afraid? And so angry? Was he in trouble? Aggression surged at that thought, not aimed at the stranger but at whatever had caused the bitter-tasting emotions in the trail.

  He burst into a clearing at a gallop and pulled up short. A brief parting in the clouds left the crescent moon shining down on the scene, illuminating the softly falling rain—and the black man kneeling on the muddy ground.

  The man’s head was bowed, his back hunched, short black hair glistening with moisture. His white singlet was soaked through, stark against the deep brown of his skin, and his muscles strained as if he were trying to stop something from bursting out of his spine. It took Aidan a moment to process the strange familiarity of the position, because he’d never seen anyone fighting not to change forms so hard.

  The man looked up.

  As a wolf, Aidan didn’t have much use for faces when scents told you so much more about a person. But this face—he’d remember this face, not just its sharp lines but the strength it radiated. The man’s dark eyes burned, the anger in them sucking Aidan’s breath away.

  He stepped towards the man, drawn by an instinct he didn’t understand.

  he said.

  The man recoiled. “Don’t touch me!”

  It felt like he’d been slapped, though of course why should the man want a big furry wolf to curl up next to him? He sat back on his haunches and tried not to feel hurt.

  The man didn’t seem to hear him, his breaths coming in sharp gasps. Tremors ran over his skin, like a nervous horse. His feet were bare and scratched—the source of the faint blood tang or was there a worse wound hidden somewhere?

  The Irish endearment slipped out, but he didn’t question it. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and he was filled with helpless panic and a desperate need to fix whatever it was. He wasn’t sure why he made the suggestion—Sabas would not think encouraging an intruder to shift into a more lethal form was a good idea—but in this moment, he didn’t care what his Alpha thought. He cared only that this man was in pain.

  “No!” the man shouted, baring his teeth. His spine arched. Why was he fighting his wolf so hard? “I’m not a monster. I’m not!”

  He was barely aware of Sabas and Hazel bursting into the clearing, and the Alpha’s dominance crashing over them. The man screamed and went suddenly limp.

  Sabas changed to human form between strides, caught the man before he collapsed in the mud. The Alpha’s eyes met Aidan’s.

  “What the fucking hell?”

  Chapter 3

  For the second time in twenty-four hours, Dev woke to jumbled memories, unsure where he was. On the upside, at least he’d made it to a bed this time, though it wasn’t the one in his apartment. Weak morning light filtered through bay windows looking out on a leafy suburban landscape. The room was large, uncluttered, and smelled faintly of mothballs.

  He struggled his way to sitting, every muscle protesting. There didn’t seem to be any actual injury, just a generalized aching pain, as if he’d overdone it at the gym.

  “You’re awake.”

  He turned sharply. There was a blond giant sitting in the corner of the room, considering Dev with a calmly bland expression. The hair on the back of Dev’s neck stood on end, and he fought the urge to scuttle backwards across the bed. Something in the man’s dark eyes made it impossible to hold his gaze for long, no matter how he tried. It was like trying to stare at the heart of a wildfire, and his instincts screamed that this wasn’t someone to mess with. He bristled, not liking the feeling.

  “Who are you? Where am I?” he demanded, glaring at the guy’s chin. He could’ve used the armor of a crisp, tailored suit right now instead of muddied singlet and pants reeking of last night’s sweat, but he wasn’t about to let that show.

  “My name is Sabas. I’m BlackEdge’s Alpha,” the man said. “And I could ask you the same question. Care to explain what you’re doing in my pack’s territory without permission?”

  “Permission?” he repeated stupidly while his mind latched onto the words ‘alpha’ and ‘pack.’ He was in a room with a werewolf.

  Sabas frowned. “Yes. All non-pack werewolves have to request permission to cross our territory. Unless you were hoping for a fight?” A hint of a growl in the question.

  A sick, panicky feeling started churning in his belly. What had happened last night? “Screw you. I’m not a werewolf, and I’m leaving.” He threw back the sheets and stumbled out of the bed.

  “Sit down.”

  The growled order went straight to his hindbrain without pausing to ask for consent. He sat, heart hammering like a jackrabbit. Anger took a second to catch up with shock. “Where the hell do you get off, giving me orders?”

 

  Dev swung around, trying to find the source of the new, Irish-accented voice, which somehow didn’t seem to have an obvious direction to it.

  An enormous wolf sat by the door.

  Dev tensed as a different wolf swam up from childhood memory and vied for space with the one in front of him. The pale memory-wolf’s yellow eyes glowed, its teeth bared in a snarl. Sweat broke out in the small of his back, and an echo of pain spiked up his side and wrapped around his neck, squeezing.

  No. He wouldn’t think about that; couldn’t think about that. He curled his hands into fists.

  The question was soft, in that same Irish accent. The wolf’s mouth didn’t move, but Dev knew it was him speaking nonetheless.

  “No,” Dev snapped, and realized, gratefully, that he wasn’t. This wolf wasn’t the one in his memory, its posture cautious rather than threatening, its eyes piercing sky blue rather than yellow. Its black fur had stripes of the same blue, Dev noticed with surprise. He focused on the differences, forcing his breathing to even out.

  the wolf—Aidan—continued. He curled his tail around his body as if that would somehow make him less enormous, and Dev had an unexpected urge to laugh, the last of his panic dying away.

  “No,” Dev said shortly. He let his death-grip on the edge of the mattress ease.

 

  “Dev Morimoto.”

  Sabas made a surprised sound, and Dev jerked. He’d forgotten the man was there. “My stepfather is Japanese—I have his last name,” he snapped, turning back. The response was an automatic one. A lot of people did a confused double-take at the mismatch between his looks and surname. Usually he had more patience for it, but not today. “My mother is black. My biological father is white. Any questions?”

  Sabas frowned like he hadn’t heard anything Dev had just said. “Dev Morimoto as in the property developer?”

  Dev blinked. “Yeah.” The small reminder of his real identity—the one he’d built for himself, not the one cursed on him by his biological fath
er—steadied him.

  Sabas, in contrast, didn’t look happy at all. “You got any werewolf genes in the family, Mr. Morimoto?” He looked meaningfully at the old, faded scar on Dev’s shoulder. Dev fought the urge to cover it. Usually he told people his scars were the result of a wild animal attack, but there was something in Sabas’s expression that said he’d recognized exactly what kind of wild animal had caused them.

  “My biological father,” he said shortly. “But I’ve never changed, and I’m not fucking going to start now.” Memories were starting to come back, and he was human-shaped in all of them. He clung desperately to that thought.

  Sabas cocked his head. “Maybe you weren’t a werewolf before, but something triggered your latent genes last night because you damn well are now. Or at least, you’re going to be, come full moon.” He sounded almost sympathetic. “You should stop fighting the change. It’ll be worse if you wait till the full moon forces you.”

  Before Dev could respond, an electronic ringtone split the air with a tinny rendition of Hungry Like the Wolf.

  Sabas reached for his pocket with a sigh. “Damn Ray.” He checked his phone, swore, and got up, his gaze going straight to Aidan. “I need to deal with this. Fae trouble. You’re in charge of giving Mr. Latent Genes the Werewolves 101 spiel.” He pinned Dev with a stare that punched straight to his gut. “I meant what I said. I won’t have rogue wolves in my territory. If you want to remain in this city, you’d better learn to control your animal.”

  “I don’t need your fucking permission to stay in my own damn—” but the Alpha was already gone, moving with unnatural speed.

  There was a long silence.

  Aidan said brightly.

  “I don’t need wolf lessons. I need to get home.” Dev’s shoulders bunched up. “Unless I’m some kind of prisoner here?”

  Aidan cocked his head. If he’d had proper eyebrows, they would’ve been raised. It should’ve freaked Dev out, being alone with a werewolf in wolf form, but instead he felt himself growing calmer, staring into those sky-blue eyes.

  Aidan said eventually. His tongue lolled out in a grin.

  “Sabas can fuck right off.” Dev got to his feet. Everything ached, and something moved restlessly under his skin for a second. He took a deep breath, in and out, and the sensation eased off. Relief made his muscles slacken. Whatever had happened last night wasn’t riding him as hard today.

  It wasn’t full moon last night, though. How much worse would it be at full moon in—Dev counted silently—ten days’ time? He pushed the uneasy thought away. He’d hadn’t changed yet and he wasn’t going to now, no matter what some dickhead Alpha said.

  “Where am I?” Through the windows, trees waved peacefully, their colors starting to turn to autumn. Beyond them, he could make out the suggestion of a few rooflines, obscured by foliage.

  Aidan gave him the address, which was surprising enough to briefly overshadow Dev’s other thoughts. He hadn’t expected werewolves to live in one of the swanky, old-money suburbs. But at least they were still in the city. He’d feared maybe they’d dragged him to some backwoods cabin.

  “What happened last night? How did I get here?”

  Aidan said pointedly.

  Dev ignored the remark. “There a phone I can use somewhere?”

  He expected Aidan to refuse, regardless of what he’d said about Dev not being a prisoner. But Aidan shrugged.

 

  “I’m not a freaking out kind of guy.” A lie—a tiny part of Dev’s brain was still screaming monster, danger, get out. Kind of hard to tell his brain it was being irrational when his body had the scars to prove otherwise. “But if you’re so worried about it, why don’t you change back to human?” Dev could cope with human-shaped wolves. Plus, he’d like to put a real face to the wry voice in his head.

  Aidan said simply. He eyed Dev. The guy had been reeking of panic earlier, but it didn’t show in his expression. Made sense—anyone who’d resisted the urge to change into a werewolf straight after being triggered had to have ironclad willpower. How had he done it? Maybe he can give me tips, Aidan thought idly, though not with any real hope. If even Sabas—the most dominant wolf he’d ever met—couldn’t help him change back, he doubted Dev could, no matter how stubborn he was.

  “What do you mean?” Dev asked.

  He’d explained his ‘problem’ so many times that retelling it just made him feel tired. He always wished there was some way to short-cut past the inevitable pitying reaction, but he hadn’t found it yet.

  Dev stared at him, horror breaking through his grimness. “You can’t change back to human? Ever?”

  And here was the pity, right on cue. Aidan said. He knew, deep down, that his half-and-half heritage had broken something in him in a way it hadn’t with his twin. A bad gene combination, maybe. His mother had seen that in him, when she’d thrown him out of the fae court he’d been born into. he added, belatedly realizing Dev might not know that. How much did Dev know about the supernatural world? It hadn’t sounded like he was close with his werewolf father.

  “I know about fae.” Dev frowned at him. “That’s why you have blue in your fur.” Fae frequently had crazy hair or eye color combinations.

  Aidan padded towards the door, moving slowly but steadily, watching out of the corner of his eye to see if Dev freaked out.

  Dev did not freak out, and, after a beat, followed him.

  “A fae-wolf,” Dev mused as they went downstairs. “What kind of fae?”

  Aidan paused, a bit surprised that Dev knew enough to ask that. Even other supernaturals often didn’t really bother to distinguish between the different types of fae.

  “Huh. Didn’t think one of them would—” Dev cut himself off, and the sharp scent of awkwardness rose off him.

  Aidan agreed with his unspoken sentence anyway. He knew what Dev had meant. There were a lot of types of fae, but daoine sidhe—or ‘high fae,’ as they called themselves—were firmly at the top of the fae hierarchy. Their magic was generally stronger than other types of fae, and the most powerful of them ruled the fae courts because of it. The high fae barely made time for less powerful fae, let alone werewolves, who they considered savage and animalistic. Fae preferred even humans to werewolves.

  “Sorry.” Dev ran a hand through his hair. But something about Aidan’s reveal had made him relax fractionally. “Didn’t mean to insult your mom. Sometimes the braincells take a few seconds to catch up with the mouth.”

  Aidan shrugged. He hadn’t seen his mother since he was ten years old. He let the implied question hang there.

  Dev paused. “My stepdad’s family are dryads.”

  Huh. Aidan didn’t know much about the tree-loving type of fae. He rolled the knowledge around, trying to see where it fit. Maybe it explained why finding out Aidan was half-fae had made Dev more relaxed and why he was so wary of werewolves in the first place. Fae and wolves didn’t mix, generally. Aidan wasn’t exactly proof of an exception, since his fae mother had outright abandoned him. Was Dev worried his family would do the same if he embraced his inner wolf?

  He led Dev through to the kitchen, trying to
think of something reassuring to say and coming up blank. His claws clicked on the wooden floor.

  Dev walked over to it, eying Aidan like he half-expected him to try to stop him. He’d said he was some kind of businessman—presumably a good one, since Sabas had recognized his name—but he didn’t move like an office worker.

  He moves like a wolf, Aidan thought, ironically. That and his hostile reaction to Sabas added up to one thing: a dominant wolf, probably a martial dominant. Sabas was right to be worried; if Dev didn’t learn to control his instincts and went rogue, he could do a lot of damage. Martial dominants were both an asset to any pack and dangerous when flying solo.

  But they had time. Full moon was still ten days away.

  If he doesn’t run out on me and refuse to come back, Aidan worried as Dev called what sounded like his secretary and asked her to send out a car for him. How had Sabas expected him to deal with this?

  he said when Dev hung up.

  “I don’t need wolf lessons,” Dev growled. “Because I’m not going to be a wolf. I’m going to wait outside.” He glared at Aidan. “Unless you’re going to stop me?”

  Aidan didn’t budge. He hadn’t actually met anyone newly turned before, but even experienced shifters felt the pull of the moon. A newbie wouldn’t be able to resist it, and it would be a horrible way to shift for the first time, dealing with new instincts, new body, and the influence of the moon all in one go.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” Dev stomped towards the door, brushing past Aidan as he went.

  The world exploded.

  Chapter 4