A Ravenous Pack: Wolf's Hunger 5 Books

by A. K. Michaels

  Zohar stopped, pain lancing through his belly as if someone were cutting him open with a sword made of fire. Danko reached over the table to grab hold of his forearm. “Zohar!”

  When the pain subsided Zohar ground his teeth together before glaring at his friend. “The more likely scenario is one of my many enemies using a magic wielder to cast a spell. That’s far more likely than the fairy-tale rubbish in your head.”

  “Fine!” Danko threw his hands up angrily. “I can get Sherman to come here and check for anything fucking magical! He’ll soon be able to see if that’s what’s wrong.”

  Zohar shook his head. “No time. I just received a call and we have an urgent mission. I was about to call you when you arrived.”

  “Really?” Danko tilted his head, his face and tone saying he didn’t believe a word.

  “Yes, really.” Zohar stood, his chair scraping back noisily. “Shade Shawcross called in his favor, and from what he told me we don’t have time to waste. It’s about a Pack run by an Alpha we’ve heard of before . . . Jermaine Skinner of the Dark Forest Pack.”

  Danko’s face darkened as he snarled, “That fucker’s still an Alpha? I thought he’d be dead by now.”

  “Apparently not, and his Pack is worse than ever.” Zohar’s guts burned again but he fought to hide it from his friend. “The women are being treated abominably and it’s time we stepped in. He and his men need to be taken out and I’m just in the mood to deal with him.”

  Danko agreed, his body thrumming with anger. “Me too. I’ll go and get a team ready.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour.” Zohar had something to do before he could go anywhere: hunt.

  “Fine.” Danko squinted at him. “Are you sure we shouldn’t let Sherman see you first?”

  “If this hasn’t gone by the time we get back, I promise, I’ll go and see him.” Zohar lied easily again. “For now, let’s just deal with this asshole and liberate the She-Wolves that are being treated like slaves.”

  “Sure,” Danko replied, although the look on his face and the tone of his voice relayed his disbelief of Zohar’s promise.

  Hell, Zohar didn’t give a damn. Not right now. All he cared about was getting his friend to leave so he could sneak away for a quick foray into the forest surrounding his cabin. If he managed to catch some prey quickly then he’d be on his way to the Council Headquarters in no time and nobody would be any the wiser.

  Danko’s eyes bored into him one last time before he shook his head and left. His friend knew exactly what Zohar had planned but at least he didn’t call him on it and avoided a confrontation that would have ended badly for them both. For now, all Zohar had to do was get through this mission and then he could deal with the fucker who’d inflicted this magical illness on him.

  When he found out who was responsible, he vowed to make him pay and Zohar’s payment would be harsh, brutal, and downright deadly.

  Zohar waited until he heard Danko’s vehicle start up and pull away from where it was parked on the road several hundred yards from his home, before leaving his cabin. He’d already stripped in readiness for his transformation, doing so with his usual exceptional swiftness.

  Zohar’s Wolf was huge, larger than most other Shifters’, and so dark that it was almost black with eyes to match: perfect for night hunting. His size didn’t detract from his stealth, when required, but for now all he wanted to do was run free. His beast taking off with great strides to disappear into the depths of the dark forest that most would avoid for fear of coming face to face with the predators that roamed free within.

  Not so for Zohar, or his beast. He welcomed the danger, the battle, if it came to that, but for now he needed to expend some of the pent-up energy burning inside him. Then he’d look for prey . . . or battle.

  Whichever came first, and either would do just fine with him.

  He sped through the forest until the delectable aroma of a deer caught his attention, veering right, his Wolf tore after the animal. One thought tearing through his mind: feed the hunger.

  Zohar’s beast caught up to his startled prey in no time, not bothering with silence to sneak up on the animal, instead he used his speed to chase it down. The thrill of the chase stampeding through him, lighting a fire deep inside that burnt his very soul, easing the darkness that tainted his core.

  It didn’t last though. When his beast leaped onto his terrified quarry, his massive jaws quickly snapped closed around its neck and ending its life, the darkness ebbed back inside. Even as he voraciously devoured his kill, he felt his soul die a little more. Soon there would be nothing left of the man he once was and that horrified him more than anything he’d done for the Council.

  When that last vestige of his humanity disappeared, Zohar knew he would have no choice but to ask his only friend to do the unthinkable: end his life. There would be no other choice. Zohar was one of the most formidable Shifters in existence, and he could not be allowed to roam free unchecked with no morality left inside. The consequences would be devastating, and go against everything he’d fought against for decades.

  No. When that moment arrived so would his last day. There was no other way.

  That decision was for another day, for now all he could focus on was consuming the deer and then returning to the Council Headquarters to carry out his mission. At least then his debt to Shade Shawcross would be paid in full.

  It didn’t take him long, the animal disappearing quickly as he scarfed it down, leaving almost nothing behind before returning home. After a quick shower, he dressed in his usual combat gear, checking himself in the mirror and seeing what others saw . . . a scary son-of-a-bitch that nobody messed with.

  Zohar ran a hand through his hair, securing it with a leather thong, staring into his eyes to try and see if he could glimpse the blackness he knew was there. All he saw was cold and emotionless eyes gazing back, hard as steel, but nothing to show the menace he knew was hidden there.

  Shaking his head, he let out a long sigh. “No time for this shit,” he mumbled to himself, turning quickly to stride away from his reflection, and his home. He had work to do and a favor to repay, then he would maybe spend some time figuring out who’d cast a spell on him.

  Sherman Kelly was a powerful Witch who the Council used, not only that, he was someone who was quite rare in Zohar’s eyes. He was a man that could be trusted and that’s just what he needed. If he decided to ask for help.

  The only problem with asking Sherman for assistance was that Zohar would then be indebted to the man, and that wasn’t a situation he relished. Slamming the door of his Jeep he started the engine, his wheels spinning as he drove away. On his way to pay a debt from five years ago, so what would Sherman ask in return for his help with this goddamn hunger that ate at Zohar’s guts?

  That was the question. One that Zohar needed the answer to before he’d contemplate approaching the Witch to ask for his assistance. Sherman’s price may well prove too high and Zohar would be right back where he started: hiding his illness and hunting every chance he got.

  For now, he’d have to push it aside and concentrate on the task at hand. There were Wolves in peril that needed his help. More importantly, there were Shifters who required his brand of justice and he would not fail those that needed him. No matter what the cost was to him, he would not forsake those in need.

  His foot heavy on the pedal, his speed increasing to zoom along the backroads he knew so well. Every pothole, every boulder, and every turn, Zohar propelled his vehicle along at a breakneck pace. When the trees thinned out, and the dirt tracks changed to tarmac, farms and houses now dotting the landscape, he still didn’t slow down. Not until he saw the turn-off for the Headquarters, and only then did he reduce his speed enough to make the turn.

  Zohar’s Jeep flew along the road toward the walled enclosure that held the buildings of the Wolf Council, as well as the jail. Not that it was like any normal prison, only the worst cases being incarcerated, and those usually in their Wolf forms. It was hell on
earth.

  Every single time Zohar passed the damn building his skin crawled, his heart thudding in his chest, and his blood pounded in his ears. The knowledge that he’d more than likely end up there always in the back of his mind. There was only so much one man could take before being overcome with . . . hell, he wasn’t even sure what the fuck it was inside him.

  All he knew was it consumed more of him with every mission and soon there’d be nothing of him left.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he cursed to himself as he slowed at the gates, four guards on duty, with one walking toward him.

  “Evening, Zohar,” the Shifter saluted stiffly before waving him on.

  Zohar didn’t bother responding, the guard didn’t expect him to. Zohar never “chatted” and didn’t waste time on idle words. He especially wasn’t going to attempt to interact with anyone right now, not with the mood he was in. He was reporting for duty, he’d do his job, he’d go home . . . and hunt.

  As he drove through the steel gates, he saw his men already gathered off to the right, Danko inspecting the two lines of Elite Guards with great detail. Zohar turned left, pulling into the first available space and parked. He took a steadying breath before getting out, looking up to the imposing building almost all windows lit up, even at this time of night. It still looked dark and brooding to him. Maybe because he knew what went on behind those walls.

  Most of what the Council did was for the greater good, but the means that got them there were what weighed him down. More often than not, dark deeds had to be done to protect those in need of their help, and it was men like him that carried out the Council’s orders. Memories of deeds done ran through his head, always there, never leaving. Nothing could stop them.

  He’d tried. Booze, women, and fighting . . . all failed. Zohar shook his head, clearing it before he jogged over to join Danko. “All set?” he barked as he arrived.

  “Yes.” Danko looked him up and down, as if he expected to see him dripping in blood, or worse.

  Zohar ignored the look, clasping his hands behind his back and walking back and forth in front of the assembled men. “We’ll have a fight on our hands. I’ve had dealings with this Alpha in the past, and he’s an asshole.” He paused, stopping and raising an eyebrow. “What’s new, huh? They’re all fucking assholes. But this one is a sneaky bastard and his Beta is a hard fucker that will attack without warning. Keep your wits about you. Got it?”

  “Yes, Sir!” his troops yelled back, loud, clear, and full of enthusiasm. Hell, they were young and eager. Like he once was.

  Now, all he wanted was to get the job done as quickly as possible and get out with his heart and soul intact. Was that even possible anymore?

  Zohar shook his head, snapping out. “Load up. We’ve got to get going. I want to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.”

  Danko stepped forward, issuing orders and assigning the men into the vehicles waiting for them. Within a few minutes they were loaded and on their way, Danko driving and Zohar riding shotgun, one group in the truck behind them.

  His friend remained silent for almost an hour, glancing frequently at Zohar, before finally asking, “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” Zohar replied, staring straight ahead.

  “Really?” Danko pressed, his voice so low that only Zohar would hear.

  “I’ll be fine once we find out who cast this damn spell,” Zohar reiterated his theory again. “Then I’ll tear his head from his body and all will be good again.”

  “What if that’s not what ails you?” Danko mumbled and Zohar wasn’t sure if his friend meant to say the words aloud or not.

  “It must be, Danko. There is no other—”

  Danko interrupted, hissing across at him. “You know there is another reason for this, Zohar. You know.”

  “Don’t be fooled.” Zohar shook his head, glaring across at his friend. “That is what this enemy wants. They want us distracted, daydreaming of something that is impossible for someone such as me. That would play right into their hands and I refuse to do that. There is a reason for this and that is what I must find out. Possibly a case that is about to drop into our laps and they want me off chasing a fantasy, instead of hunting them down. Think, Danko, is that not a more plausible explanation? Especially in our line of work and with the enemies we’ve accumulated over the years?”

  Danko sighed, focusing on the dark road ahead. He remained silent for long minutes before he nodded curtly. “Possibly.”

  “Let’s just focus on our assignment,” Zohar replied before settling his head back and closing his eyes, feigning sleep.

  Danko wouldn’t be fooled and may even be offended at Zohar’s obvious snub, but Zohar could take no more discussion regarding his malady. Not if he didn’t want to punch his fist through the windshield.

  Zohar didn’t expect to fall asleep, but he did. Danko waking him with a gruff voice. “We’re nearly there.”

  “What?” Zohar asked, confused. “How long was I out?”

  Danko looked over, scowling. “The first hour you pretended so you didn’t need to talk, the last five hours you have been snoring like a pig.”

  “Five hours?” Zohar asked, shocked. He hadn’t slept for longer than a couple of hours straight in over a week.

  “Yes, and we are almost at the camp.”

  “Damn.” Zohar sat up, shaking his head to clear it and looking outside. “It’s daylight, not ideal. I’d prefer going in at dawn or dusk.”

  “Do you want me to pull over and wait?” Danko asked, slowing down.

  “No.” Zohar cracked his neck. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “How do you want to do this? Go in hot?”

  “Have the men fan out and remove any sentries first. After they’ve taken out any possible threat of attack from them, then we’ll go in on foot. Easy and slow, so we can get a measure of the camp and see what’s going on. We may get lucky and catch the Alpha and Beta alone.”

  “Yeah, right,” Danko snorted. “When does that ever happen?”

  “Rarely,” Zohar replied shortly. “However, there are women and children in there and I want to minimize the danger to them. We approach as I said and hope we manage to take the camp quickly, with no, or minimal, collateral damage.”

  “We can only hope for that, my friend. These things rarely go as planned.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Zohar replied curtly. “But we can do our best to make it so. Ensure the men are aware of that.”

  “As always, Zohar,” Danko answered.

  Maisy cowered as her Alpha addressed the assembled Pack. His anger washing over them all, his eyes filled with rage as he glared at the women who’d been pushed to the front.

  Her friend, Libby, held her hand, squeezing it when she felt Maisy tremble. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

  “Shush, he’ll hear,” Maisy whispered urgently, desperate to keep Jermaine Skinner’s attention off them.

  His Beta, Marlon, paced back and forward, leering at them and making Maisy’s skin crawl. She was sure she was going to throw up if he stopped in front of her. She’d seen him pause along the line and run his finger down another girl’s face. If he touched her she was certain she wouldn’t be able to hide her disgust.

  Damn. That was just Marlon. What would she do if the Alpha picked her?

  Fuck! This was because her best friend, Marissa, had escaped. Not only had she got away, but from the shouting match that had ensued when her father, Saul, had returned, it seemed her friend was now mated to a freaking Alpha. A strong Alpha, one who Jermaine wasn’t prepared to go up against to get Marissa back.

  Good! Go Marissa.

  Maisy was overjoyed for her friend. She was . . . but it now meant that every other female in the Pack was on the chopping block. No, scratch that. Only the young women were now in line for what Marissa had been faced with before she ran and that was, to put it bluntly, a fate worse than death . . . the Alpha’s sex mate.

  Not a true mate. No. He had
one of those, and he had three daughters, but women were treated like shit here, and he wanted a son. His solution? Saul fucking Farrar had sold his daughter to the Alpha as a sex mate until she produced a son.

  Who the hell did that? A fucking asshole, that’s who. But now she was gone and the Alpha was on the hunt for a replacement. So here she stood, clutching Libby’s hand and praying to the Goddess that neither of them caught the Alpha’s eye.

  Maisy knew she’d never survive something like that. Maybe her body would, but her mind could not. She’d lived most of her life in fear, she was the typical “scaredy cat”. She jumped at loud noises, cringed when people shouted, and tears sprang to her eyes whenever there was any kind of conflict.

  How could she survive being abused by that bear of a man? Quite simply . . . she couldn’t.

  “You will stand fucking still!” Marlon poked a girl at the end of the line, his face closing in on the white face filled with terror. “Or I’ll take you out back and teach you some manners.”

  “Oh shit.” Maisy’s heart thudded in her chest. She knew the girl, hell, she was barely fourteen.

  “Shush, sweets, leave it be. We can’t help her,” Libby mumbled.

  When the girl started to cry Marlon’s hand snapped forward, grabbing her hair and pulling her out of line. “Fine, you were warned.”

  Maisy watched as he dragged her behind him, out of sight around the side of the nearest cabin. “What will he do?” Maisy couldn’t stop herself asking.

  “Shh.” Libby tightened her grip on Maisy’s hand.

  The Alpha smirked, addressing them again. “That’s what happens when you don’t do as you’re told.”