Fighting for Her Wolves: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Hungry for Her Wolves Book 5)

by Tara West

  “Her death was not your fault,” he whispered as Magnus hung his head.

  Not a day had gone by since his mother was murdered that Raine didn’t miss her, but not once in his mourning did he ever blame Magnus for her death.

  Balling his hands into fists by his sides, Magnus shook his head. “I didn’t move fast enough.”

  “You were a kid. It was your first shift.”

  “Even if it wasn’t my fault, I’m still only half a man.” Magnus held up his stump.

  Walking around the bench, Raine placed a hand on Magnus’s shoulder. “Only if you believe it, brother.”

  Magnus’s face was screwed up so tight, Raine didn’t know if his brother was on the verge of crying or about to punch him in the face. “You didn’t see the look in her eyes when my hand fell off!”

  Raine blinked hard as he recalled the incident yesterday when Magnus’s prosthetic had fallen. “She was shocked,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. He hadn’t seen Annie’s expression, and even though he hardly knew her, he got the feeling she wouldn’t be turned off by Magnus’s injury.

  Magnus frowned at his boots. “She was repulsed.”

  Frustration surged through him. Yeah, it sucked that his brother had lost a hand, but it happened twelve years ago. For fuck’s sake, he needed to get over it. “Magnus, stop torturing yourself before you end up just like him.” Without waiting for his brother’s reply, he turned and marched back out, his heart dropping to his stomach when he saw Tor Thunderfoot pulling out of the drive, Annie sitting in the backseat with her head down.

  He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye. Damn their Father for ruining their evening, and damn Magnus for letting him!

  Chapter Four

  ROY PUT HIS TRUCK IN park and shut off the engine. After blowing on his steaming coffee, he chanced a sip, swearing when he burned the roof of his mouth. Damn. He’d have to go into the sheriff’s office without caffeine. He wasn’t ready for this shit before the butt-crack of dawn. He set the coffee in the holder and climbed out, grimacing when he slammed the door and heard the window rattle. That backwoods repair shop had done a shoddy job. He’d need to take his truck to a real body shop the next time he had downtime and extra money.

  The sun still hadn’t risen, and the gravel drive was barely lit by the rusty lamp overhead. He dragged his feet up the creaky steps of the historical old house turned police station, surprised to find so many deputies inside the small office, all of them on edge, hands on holsters when he walked through the door. They should recognize him by now. One of the deputies took him to the back room with Sheriff Gonzalez.

  The old sheriff had leathery brown skin and a bushy gray handlebar moustache. He glanced up from the desk. “Sorry to wake you up so early, amigo.”

  “No problem,” Roy answered. “Thanks for calling me.”

  “Three dead this time. Migrant workers. All were disemboweled.”

  Roy’s stomach churned. “Same as before then?”

  “No. We got a witness this time.” The sheriff stood. “A farm worker. She doesn’t speak much English, though.”

  Roy froze. If this witness could identify the Wolfchasers, he would finally have justification to bring in Vidar and his brothers, and possibly even their sons. He hoped not the sons, for Annie’s sake. “Can you interpret for me? My Spanish is still rusty.”

  “Sure.” The sheriff waved him to the back room.

  A young, pregnant woman with long, black hair pulled back in a braid sat on the sofa with a female deputy, holding a cup of coffee with trembling hands.

  “Esmeralda,” the sheriff said to her. “Roy Miller es un agente federal. Puede hacerte algunas preguntas, por favor?”

  Esmeralda looked at Roy with wide, frightened eyes, then rattled off a bunch of rapid Spanish.

  Roy looked to Sheriff Gonzalez, who shrugged. “She thinks you’re INS.”

  Roy flashed her a smile, discouraged when she shrank back. “Tell her I’m not going to deport her. I’m only here to ask her questions.”

  The sheriff translated so fast, Roy could hardly keep up. He reminded himself to to take some online Spanish courses when he found the time.

  “I need to know what she saw,” Roy said.

  Before the sheriff could translate, the girl answered. “Chupacabra.”

  Roy arched a brow. “Chupacabra?”

  “She’s an artist.” The sheriff handed Roy a piece of lined paper. “Even drew us a picture.”

  Roy studied it carefully. He didn’t know much about art, but he knew the drawing was detailed. Too detailed, showing the profile of a mangy animal that looked like it was part cat by the arch of its back. It hovered over a screaming man, a long rope of intestines hanging from its sharp fangs. Roy had heard the legend of the chupacabra from the locals but assumed they’d seen an Amaroki mid-shift. This thing looked more like the description Annie had given him of a werewolf, with its long, pointy snout, scraggly fur, gangly legs, and long claws that looked like eagle talons. But it couldn’t be. Werewolves were only found around haunted forests, and Texas didn’t have one. Did it? One thing was certain, it didn’t look like an Amaroki, which both relieved and confused him. What the hell was that thing?

  “That doesn’t look like a wolf. Ask her if she’s sure it wasn’t a wolf.” Maybe the girl had exaggerated the monster’s appearance.

  “No, no.” She vehemently shook her head, not waiting for the sheriff to interpret. “Es un chupacabra.”

  Roy let out a frustrated groan. He’d spoken about the chupacabra legends with the Coyotechasers. They’d assured Roy they were only fables.

  “Do you mind if I keep this?” he asked the sheriff.

  “Go ahead. We’ve already scanned it.”

  Roy pocketed the picture and looked at the woman once more. “Gracias.”

  She nodded, turning away and wiping moisture from her eyes.

  The sheriff escorted Roy back to his office. “One of the victims was her husband,” he said. “She’s still in shock.”

  Roy felt pity for the woman and her unborn child. Whatever this beast was, he was determined to root it out before anymore innocents were killed.

  The sheriff reached into his desk, pulled out several photographs, and handed them to Roy. He studied what appeared to be images of animal tracks.

  “These were at the scene of attack,” the sheriff said. “You can keep them.”

  “Thanks.” Roy studied them. The tracks definitely didn’t look wolf. They were narrower and deeper, which would match the sharp claws from the drawing.

  “The boys are coming back with coffee and breakfast tacos if you care to stay,” the sheriff said as he sat at his desk and motioned for Roy to take a seat across from him.

  “No,” he answered, a heaviness settling in his chest as he stared through a crack in the door at the young woman curled up on the sofa, looking like a frightened child. “I need to get back.”

  He was in no mood to eat after looking at that detailed drawing. He’d been craving breakfast tacos when he’d woken up, too. Spicy chorizo and egg tacos made living in this hellhole somewhat worthwhile, but he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to eat after looking at the horrified look in that poor man’s eyes as the beast ate his entrails.

  “When you gonna tell me what the FBI is doing investigating wolf attacks?”

  “Wish I could.” He patted the drawing in his pocket. “Thanks for your help.”

  He trudged to his truck like his feet were made of concrete, thinking of the trail of destruction the beast had left behind in the past few months. An eerie howl resounded in the distance, making him pick up his pace while resting a hand on his holster. He jumped in the truck and started the engine, then gripped the steering wheel with trembling hands. Dammit, he knew he’d signed up for freaky shit when he agreed to work for the FBI as an Amaroki liaison. He’d been foolish to think they’d all be like his half-sister, Annie. This job didn’t offer enough hazard pay for the shit he had to put up
with, and he feared it was about to get a whole lot more dangerous.

  ANNIE KNEW SHE WAS dreaming, but, again, it felt so real. She was sitting on a ledge beside the waterfall, where it emptied into the pond. Looking across the misty vapors rising from the pond, she saw four shadows standing on the opposite ledge and knew they were her mates, for the largest shadow had an arm that ended in a stump. Though she could barely make out their faces, their golden eyes pierced the fog. What did they want? One of them stepped forward, his face slowly coming into view. She recognized his square jaw and piercing eyes. Raine. He stretched an arm out to her, but she shrank back. How could she go to him? The chasm between the ledges was too great. There was no way, and she wasn’t about to jump into the water. She had no idea of its depths. What if she injured herself or worse, drowned under the waterfall? No, she couldn’t cross. They’d have to find a way to come to her. But would they? She stood there for what felt like ages, the sounds of her shallow breathing overshadowed by the roar of the waterfall. She waited and waited, but her mates never moved. They expected her to cross that chasm alone, to blindly throw herself into the abyss without any help from them. Though she’d been abandoned as a teen and shuffled about in foster care before striking out as a lone wolf, never in her life had she felt more alone than at that moment.

  She woke in a sweat, heart racing and limbs trembling as she recalled her dream. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and looked out her window. She’d no idea what time it was, but the sun wasn’t up yet.

  She jumped at the sound of whimpers outside. When she pulled back the curtains, her heart skipped a beat. Four familiar black wolves with silver eyes were looking up at her.

  “Fathers?” she whispered.

  Come with us.

  Not needing to be told twice, she opened the window, slipped out of her nightgown, and shifted into wolf form. She leapt from the window to the grass, surprised to see all four of her fathers were no longer shadows, but in solid form. They motioned for her to follow, and so she did, chasing them through fields, over rolling hills, and then onto rocky ground. Her tongue was lolling out of her mouth and her tail was dragging by the time they reached a wide canyon illuminated by the moon. The canyon was deeper than it was wide and stretched for miles.

  Amarok turned his nose to the sky and let out a powerful, deep howl. Her other fathers followed suit, and she joined them. When they finished howling, she followed them along a narrow trail that led to the bottom of the canyon.

  We shouldn’t be here, she projected, tail tucked between her legs as she slid down rocks. This is where my mates lost their alpha father and mother.

  Amarok flicked her nose with a bushy tail. You will be safe with us.

  She followed them all the way to the floor of the canyon, where they ran and ran, only stopping to drink from the river before they were off again. Strangely enough, they ended up at a waterfall, one that looked similar to the one in her dreams.

  After they traversed a rocky slope to a flat rock overlooking a misty pool of water, she was awestruck. It was the same as in her dream, with an almost identical slab across from the pool. She remembered staring at her mates standing on that slab, waiting for them to find a way to her. She sat, wrapping her tail around her legs. How could she have dreamed this place when she’d never been there?

  She noted how her second alpha and gamma father stayed behind, perched on top of the cliff like sentinels. They were watching for danger.

  Her birth father, Fenrir, nuzzled her with a low whine. We’ve longed to see you.

  Her ears flattened against her skull. They’d longed to see her, yet they’d left her alone all this time? Then you should’ve come sooner.

  We are always with you in spirit, Amarok answered, then lifted his muzzle to the moon. We can’t form from the shadows unless the moon is full.

  Where were you when I was fighting werewolves? she asked accusingly, because she certainly could’ve used their help when demonic wolves had been trying to kill her.

  Guarding inside the portal, Amarok answered.

  Inside the portal? she asked. She didn’t remember seeing or hearing them when she’d neared that place.

  Why do you think you didn’t see other demons while Katarina kept it open? Amarok asked.

  She gave pause, stunned. I just thought they hadn’t found their way out yet.

  Amarok let out a low growl, the black hair on the back of his neck standing on end. They knew the way. We fought them back day and night until the witch closed the portal.

  All moisture from her mouth suddenly evaporated. Oh. Did any escape?

  Amarok and Fenrir puffed up their chests, and their laughter reverberated in her ears.

  One, Amarok answered, but we tracked her down and dragged her back to hell.

  Her ears twitched as she recalled the vengeful ghost who could transform into a snake. Was it Katarina?

  No, and Katarina wasn’t a demon. Not yet. His gaze swept the sky. She was still in spirit form, or we would’ve been able to send her back to hell ourselves.

  Fenrir licked his paw. The demon was a tricky bitch who led us on a hunt across North America.

  Annie’s heart thudded loudly in her ears. Did you catch her?

  Amarok flashed a fanged smile. Of course.

  She heaved a breath of relief. Oh, thank the Ancients.

  You’re welcome, her fathers answered in unison, their tails simultaneously thumping.

  Annie’s tail instinctively thumped. She’d used that expression so many times, she’d forgotten the Ancients were sitting in front of her. Her tail thumped harder, warmth flooding her when Fenrir nuzzled her again. Now that the portal is closed, there won’t be any more risk of demons?

  Fenrir sat back on his haunches, his lips pulling back in a snarl. There’s always risk of demons.

  We’ve been guarding portals these past thousand years, and in that time a few have slipped through, Amarok said, the words dark and deadly.

  Annie froze. Where are they?

  If we knew where they were, Amarok answered, we’d have captured them by now, but do not fear. They are afraid of Amaroki.

  Her chest deflated with a groan of relief. That’s good.

  They can’t control us like they can humans, Amarok added.

  Annie swallowed. They control humans?

  Amarok solemnly nodded. Some of them can possess humans, but they cannot possess Amaroki. They can’t break our magical barriers, not unless an Amaroki ventures beyond the veil of a haunted forest.

  How can we tell which humans are possessed? Annie asked apprehensively.

  You have the unique ability to read minds, Fenrir answered. That is how you tell. A demon’s thoughts are dark and self-centered. You may also notice an occasional flash of red behind their irises. But again, do not worry. They fear the Amaroki.

  I do not worry for myself, Annie said. I worry for my brother.

  We understand, Fenrir answered. But like I said, demons fear the Amaroki. Your brother is safest when he’s close to us.

  She let out a low whimper. Are there demons nearby? Is that why you’re telling me this?

  We picked up the scent of one on our run. Fenrir growled. We can’t tell how old it is.

  And can’t you consult those ancient scrolls of yours to see what will happen with the demons?

  Who do you think wrote the scrolls? Amarok chuckled. We cannot see what the future holds when demons are involved. Their dark magic muddies the water.

  Annie’s heart thudded so loud, it sounded like a freight train driving through her ears.

  I think we’ve had enough demon talk for one day. Amarok’s tail went limp. Our purpose wasn’t to upset you.

  I’ve fought werewolves before. Annie willed her racing heartbeat to slow. I can handle demon talk.

  His tail thumped again, brushing dirt and debris into the water below. We saw you fighting the werewolves.

  Her ears perked. You did?

  You were very brave, he a
nswered, his deep voice softening. We’re so proud of you.

  Really? She tilted her head, whimpering. So you’re not mad at me?

  Amarok jumped to all fours and rubbed her neck with his thick muzzle. Why would we be mad?

  You paired me with idiots, she blurted, an ache stabbing her chest at the thought. Why couldn’t they’ve paired her with brave mates who didn’t have a douchey father?

  Amarok sat, his brow drawing low. It’s true we do have a hand in bondings but not like you think.

  Oftentimes, we cannot deny an obvious bond, Fenrir explained, just as you cannot deny your instincts when you find yourself attracted to the Wolfstalkers.

  She looked down at the waterfall splashing into the pool. They are cowards. She knew she was being harsh. Raine had stood up to his father for her, but he hadn’t done enough. None of them had.

  Their fear of their father is a deep-rooted seed. It is not so easy for them to dig it out.

  If she’d been in human form, she would’ve laughed out loud. Is that a nice way of calling them pussies?

  Amarok pressed against her while Fenrir flanked her other side.

  Your youngest mates are ready to stand up to their father, Amarok said, but they cannot do so without Magnus.

  She bristled. He’s the biggest pussy of them all.

  He carries a heavy burden of guilt, Fenrir answered. It is wrapped around his heart like a noose.

  He’s being ridiculous, she said, refusing to allow Magnus to get a pass so easily.

  To you, maybe, Amarok said. An alpha’s primary job is to keep his women safe. He failed with his mother. He thinks he’s not worthy because of it.

  She turned to him with a whimper. He was just a child.

  Amarok shook his head. He was a man.

  Barely. The irony that she was making excuses for Magnus wasn’t lost on her, but it had been his first shift. How could they hold him responsible?