Wolf Pack Chronicles Box Set

by Amelia Wilson

  6. IN THE CARDS

  It was bizarre for Ryland to see an outsider, a non-shifter, inside the Rogue's base. As he lined his pack up in the training room, he briefly wondered what they were going to think of Krista. Then, for another moment, he wondered why he was even thinking about her. Why did it matter to him if his pack liked her or not?

  "Krista, these are the Rogues," he said, once Tristan had brought her into the room. The Rogues straightened up at the sight of her, as if Krista were royalty coming for a visit. Ryland took pride in them.

  "Wow, very...tight formations," Krista commented.

  "They're just as good at displaying themselves as they are at fighting,” Ryland said. "Probably from all the hard work I've put into making them that way. ”

  “Nice to meet you all,” Krista seemed slightly apprehensive. Ryland wondered if it was because she had never seen shifters before, and here she was suddenly surrounded by them. He introduced each pack member to her before dismissing them for training. “Would you like to watch them fight?” Ryland asked, eager to show off the skills of the pack.

  Krista shrugged. “Don’t we have some important things to discuss?” She asked.

  “Just watch, only for a second,” Ryland insisted.

  He knew she didn't seem all too interested, but he didn't want to pass up on demonstrating the Rogue's strength to an outsider. He led Krista up the nearby steps to reach the upper-level walkway, making sure not to take her near the railing he had crushed the other day. “They train every day, four hours max,” he said.

  “And that’s not exhausting for them?” Krista asked.

  “They need the exercise. Gotta keep them sharp and ready at all times.”

  “For what?”

  "Well, I'm hoping you'll help me figure that out." He turned to look at her. She turned and gave a small smile, keeping her arms crossed as she leaned against the railing. He realized he had never really seen a woman so comfortable in his presence. The other women in his pack wouldn't even look at him or lounge in the warehouse on their days off. His eyes trailed from Krista's fiery-red hair down her arched back, noticing the way the fabric of her t-shirt clung to the curves of her supple breasts.

  Even though she was wearing sweatpants, he could still make out the shape of her—curvy with a tight waist he pictured wrapping his arms around. He tore his eyes away, feeling a strange quiver in his stomach. Maybe it was just the curse, but this feeling wasn’t as hostile.

  He had a slight urge, an ache to release some of his tension. It was common for a shifter to feel this way, especially if they didn’t have a mate. He quickly pushed it from his mind. She was gorgeous, sure, but he was already caught in a mess. Advancing things with Krista would definitely make things more complicated.

  A yelp from below broke his chain of thought. Dozens of faces turned up to look at Ryland. A wolf lay on the ground, whimpering next to his sparring partner. Ryland’s jaw tightened. Accidents were one thing, but weakness had to be dealt with. He left Krista on the runway to watch as he stepped onto the mat. “What’s going on?” He asked the sparring partners. The wolf shifted back into a blonde man, holding his arm at his side.

  “I dislocated it,” he explained quietly, avoiding eye contact with his alpha.

  “Let me see,” Ryland said, taking the arm in his hands. Both shifters seemed nervous as they eyed him. In a flash, Ryland shoved the shifter’s arm violently back into its socket. The cracking sound echoed, making everyone around them wince. They could feel the shifter’s pain as he tried to stifle his cries.

  “Get back to fighting,” Ryland said firmly. “Pain is just another obstacle.”

  The rest of his pack had nothing else to say. "This isn't a break," Ryland clarified to them. "I didn't say you guys could stop." They followed his orders. They were used to this sort of thing.

  “What do you think?” He asked Krista once he rejoined her.

  “Could be better,” Krista said, leaving the railing.

  “I agree. They’re a little slower today.”

  “Not them. You. You’re way too hard on them,” she said. Ryland was confused. He was the strongest alpha in Central City. Why wouldn’t he be hard on his pack?

  “You’re telling me how to lead my pack?” He asked her, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

  "I guess so," Krista said, and then with a devilish smirk she asked him, "What are you going to do? Kick me out?" Ryland was flustered.

  "If they get too comfortable, they'll walk all over you," he said. He wanted to give her a bigger piece of his mind, but decided to hold his tongue instead. For once, he couldn't think of a better comeback and he admired Krista's hidden fire.

  “This is your room,” Ryland kicked open the door to reveal what was practically a small cell. No decorations, hardly any furniture, white walls. The standard model for a Rogue. Krista’s first reaction was to test the bed. It squeaked slightly as she sat on it, bouncing up and down for a moment. Ryland turned his eyes away from her moving breasts and cleared his throat.

  “Definitely a downgrade from my place, but I’ll manage,” Krista said.

  “We’ll see about getting you some clothes,” Ryland said as he noticed that she was still barefoot. “And probably a shower too.”

  To Ryland’s shock, Krista sniffed her armpit instinctively. Who was this woman he’d brought into his place? “You can tell I stink?” Krista said with wide eyes.

  “Wolves can smell something from miles away,” he said. “So, yes.”

  "Yikes," Krista said, and laughed a musical laugh. Ryland found himself latching onto it. He had dedicated so much time to being an alpha that he had never really had the opportunity to be around women that much. It was an interesting change, to say the least.

  Tristan's head leaned in the open doorway. "You wanted us all to talk?" He asked. Ryland ushered him inside and shut the door. Krista's eyes darted from the door to him. "You're safe," Ryland assured her, which made her relax.

  "Let me be the first to ask," she said. "What's all this about an oracle? And how I'm supposed to be one?"

  "An oracle?" Tristan asked. "Like the ones mentioned in the old shifter texts? I thought they were a myth."

  "Hear me out," Ryland said. "Krista had a vision when I saw her. Hopefully, she's willing to tell us about it." His eyes shifted over to her.

  “Do you get visions often?” Tristan asked her.

  "I didn't use to," Krista explained. "But one night, I had a really bad one. I thought it was a dream until I met Ryland and then I had almost the same vision."

  “What did you see?” Tristan prodded.

  "I saw you," she said to Ryland, then pointed to Tristan. "And I think you were there too. It wasn't entirely clear. But there were wolves and a giant shadow that I can't seem to get out of my head."

  “Like the ones I mentioned,” Ryland said. Hopefully having Krista would make him seem less crazy about this curse.

  “Then I did a reading,” Krista continued. “With tarot cards. It said there was something evil in my future. I can only assume it was about this, right?”

  “Can you do a reading for us now?” Tristan asked. “Do you think you could tell us more about what’s been going on with the shifters going missing?”

  “I can try,” Krista said, reaching into her sweatpants pocket. She pulled out a beat-up stack of cards and shuffled them, watching the two shifters nervously. She laid out several cards and studied them.

  Ryland waited impatiently—he wanted answers. However, after a few long minutes Krista gathered the cards and shook her head, trying again, and then again. “What’s wrong?” Tristan asked.

  Krista seemed slightly distracted and a little embarrassed. "I'm, uh, I can't pick up anything," she said quietly.

  "Well maybe try reading my palm again," Ryland suggested. He sat on the bed next to her, feeling the warmth radiating from her body to his. Krista took his hand, spread out his fingers and closed her eyes in concentration. But there was no convulsing or
sputtering. She simply opened her eyes and let go. "Nothing…" she said somberly.

  Ryland stood alone in the center of the training mat. He had told Krista to stay in her room until he could figure out a plan. After her visions had failed to come, Krista seemed distraught. Ryland worried that maybe he had made the wrong choice. Maybe she wasn't the oracle after all. Then, he remembered he had read something about a tool—an ancient family heirloom—that Krista might find useful. If he could recover it, then maybe she'd have a better chance of seeing into the future.

  His fist pummeled a punching bag, over and over. He shifted, snapping his jaws at the moving target. As he did, something caught his attention. A scent, one that he hadn’t encountered in a very long time. A faint musk wafting from afar. He turned his head toward the source, but the smell disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. It was a ghost from the past, and although he tried to push it away it still managed to haunt him.

  Christoph?

  7. HISTORY

  Krista couldn’t stand the cramped feeling she got from the walls of her cell, as she began to call it. A couple of days had passed since she had been taken to the strange shifter base. Sometimes she’d get to walk around, and would witness men and women turning into wolves. They were fascinating—people caught between two worlds. Krista found herself relating to them somehow. Surely her clients would be wondering about her and why her shop hadn’t been open for a while. Yet, Krista felt that she didn’t have to worry about it. She was in a new world now, one that promised something better for her abilities.

  But something was off. She was discouraged that she hadn’t been able to summon her visions the other night, and she could sense that Ryland and his beta were feeling the same. How was she going to be an oracle when she couldn't even muster a brief hint of the future? She still wasn't even sure what she was supposed to do as an oracle.

  No matter how hard she tried, she found herself staring at a blank slate. Maybe it was just nerves or the environment. A white prison-looking cell certainly wasn't doing any good for her psychic energy. She needed to get out and get some fresh air, which is precisely why she snuck out of her room to explore the rest of the Rogue's warehouse.

  She actually loved the black sneakers Ryland had left for her. What he lacked in hospitality he made up for in style. The Rogues all wore hip athletic clothes, mainly in black. The jogger sweatpants and the tank top she had chosen were particularly comfortable.

  Trying her best not to look out of place, she wandered down the maze of hallways, most of them containing supplies and dorm rooms like hers. The warehouse had been converted, from top to bottom, into a functional facility, almost like the inside of a nice gym you’d see in the city, though it definitely didn’t look like it from the outside.

  She found the kitchen, communal showers (which she only used late at night), and several reading rooms for the younger shifters to do schoolwork in. Finally, after perusing the hallways, she found one in particular that had nothing but a single room at the end. She felt her stomach flutter at the sight of a "Keep Out" sign, wondering with burning curiosity at what could be inside. Ryland was off with Tristan and there was no telling when he'd come back. She figured she'd have just enough time to peek in.

  Double checking her surroundings, she snuck over to the door and just tested the doorknob lightly. Unlocked! But it was dark inside. She felt along the wall for a light switch. As it flipped on, she couldn't believe how this room could possibly be in the warehouse. It was a scholar's paradise that gave off the coziest vibes. Krista immediately felt herself sinking into the comfort of the room, admiring the strings of lights along the walls, the shelves stocked with books, and the old rugs and floor pillows nestled around an antique table.

  It was all so out of place. This has to be Tristan’s room for sure, she thought as she ran her fingers along an elegant chestnut wardrobe, tempted to peek inside. But there were other matters to attend to. Tristan had mentioned something about ancient shifter texts. Perhaps she'd find something about past oracles in one of his books. Her eyes drifted along the shelves until she found one that seemed promising. "Ancient Tales of the Shift," was etched in gold on the ragged cover. She sat on the pillows in front of the table, poring over the pages. There were old illustrations, anatomies of shifters and the like.

  One section caught her attention. It was a portrait of a woman, steeped in reverence. She was dressed in a flowing hooded gown, her arms outstretched and her eyes completely white. She was floating, wisps of energy surrounding her. Krista immediately felt like a stark contrast to this powerful woman, but still took the time to read the block of text next to the image.

  "The Oracle's spirit inhabits but one woman, sometimes months, sometimes centuries apart. From the day she is born, the woman who houses the spirit devotes herself to the craft of clairvoyance. The Oracle's spirit often becomes more prominent in times of crisis, when she is most needed. Once the host has mastered summoning the Oracle's spirit, she will be granted unimaginable power."

  It sounded pretty exciting to Krista, although she felt a flicker of anxiety taking her over. Suddenly she felt that she couldn't take in any more of the text. The more she read about it, the more inadequate she felt about her own abilities. She replaced the book on the shelf, and instead studied the trinkets and bottles that were laid out in the empty spaces. It reminded her of how her mom's shop used to look before she took most of the valuable things with her. Krista recognized some items as potions. She popped the cork out of one and took a whiff. It was ghastly, like soured milk.

  She read the label: Brittlesbane and Hogstooth. Now, she wasn’t a witch or a herbologist in any way, but she knew those ingredients were used to ward off evil spirits. Most of the contents had been consumed already, and she wondered why Tristan would need to take it.

  Already she felt as if she had spent too much time in the room, but there was so much to see. There were sketchbooks, filled with images of wolves and one ripped image that Krista recognized as a shadow. As she made her way back to the table, she noticed an open book flipped over onto its pages. As she picked it up, a slip of paper floated to the floor. She grabbed it and saw that it was a picture of two little boys.

  One of them had glasses, a toothless grin and dark hair with a hint of red. His arm was around the other boy who was dressed in a baseball uniform. Krista didn’t think much of it, assuming the boy with glasses was Tristan. However, something caught her by surprise.

  As they both stared up at her, she noticed that they both had the same pair of deep olive-green eyes. She dropped the picture immediately, then flipped over the book. Letters, addressed to ‘brother’, but which had obviously never been sent, sat waiting in the pages of what seemed to be a scrapbook. There were more pictures, and slowly the realization sunk in that this wasn’t Tristan’s room.

  It was Ryland’s.

  "I thought your orders were to stay in your room," A voice startled Krista, making her flip the book back over in a panic. She stood up from the antique table, her hands at her sides, straight as an arrow. Ryland sauntered over to her from the doorway, picking up the book. He noticed the old picture tucked into the crack and grimaced as he closed it. "Snooping around, I see," he said. He sounded different, more aggressive than sarcastic.

  "I'm really sorry. I thought this was Tristan's room or something. Either way, I shouldn't have been snooping."

  Ryland ignored her. Krista hated how cold he was all the time. If only there was a way to lighten him up. "I learned about the oracles," she told him. "Since you never got around to telling me. You mentioned something about a tool, an artifact that I could use. Something that could maybe help us."

  “I was just about to retrieve it, actually,” Ryland said.

  “Fantastic,” Krista sighed. “I need to get out of this place.”

  “I didn’t say you were coming with me.”

  Krista exchanged a stern glance with him. If she was supposed to be helping him, then why was he keeping he
r locked up?

  “Why not?” She challenged. “Too dangerous?”

  “Too complicated,” Ryland corrected her. “I just need to run in and run out. I’d just be waiting for you to catch up.”

  "I'd watch your words if I were you," Krista said. "For all we know I'm carrying the spirit of a very powerful oracle."

  Ryland thought for a moment. Her words were taking some form of shape into his mind. Finally he gave an annoyed growl. “Fine,” he said. “But don’t think I’m going to rescue you if something goes wrong.”

  “I jumped out of a window to escape evil shifters,” Krista said with a smirk. “I think I can handle myself just fine.” She brushed past him on her way out. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go fetch.”

  8. BONES

  "So, what are we looking for exactly?" Krista's voice emerged from behind a tombstone. Ryland scoped out the old cemetery, his eyes trailing over the towering headstones and cracking monuments that belonged to the dead. He tried to catch a scent hoping to avoid a run-in with those shifters, but the air was too cold and stung his nose. He was confident he could take some of them down in a fight. But it would be a whole other obstacle to keep Krista alive. He shouldn't have brought her along.

  “My great grandfather’s tomb is just around here,” Ryland said from another row of graves. “We’re looking for bones.”

  "Well, there are plenty of those around here." Krista joked. Ryland managed to crack a smile. It had been a while since he laughed at something so cheesy, but he would never let Krista see that. He stepped over the raised bricks in the warped stone pathway, scanning each of the names on the large mausoleums, made of dark stone. "Shifter blood runs strong in my family,” he said. “I come from a long line of alphas. Most of them are buried here. I've been going through my family's records lately, and found that when he died, my great-grandfather was buried with a bag of ancient oracle bones."