Awakening: Book 1 of The Summer Omega Series

by JK Cooper

  “Can you save our son?” the man she knew as Kale asked. Daeglan. The dream Kale’s name was Daeglan.

  Could she save their son? Why would Daeglan ask her that? But he wasn’t asking her, he was asking her wolf.

  “You’re showing me what I need to see,” Shelby said to Kale’s wolf. The vision became hazy, but the weakened wolf mustered what seemed the last dregs of his strength, and the picture refocused.

  In the vision, a large black wolf was at Daeglan’s side. Beside the boy—my son?—a gray and black wolf with a lighter gray shade at the paws lay curled up beside him. They were the Sköllaer, those who had communion with the Immortal Wolves in the ancient lands of Alsvoira and protected the Isluxua. The invaders had never found the ancient tome with the secrets of their existence, but had come dangerously close this time.

  But . . . this is not on this earth, Shelby thought as more of the vision—both things seen and unseen—unfolded to her.

  “Can you save Mareus?” Daeglan asked.

  Shelby’s wolf sniffed at Mareus’s wound, and the boy’s wolf whined softly.

  “I’m going to kill those people,” Daeglan said, desperate words born of grief. He beat a clenched fist on his leg. “I swear it.”

  They had fled from the invaders again, but their son had been run down by a barbarian’s sword before his wolf could take the man out.

  The amber eyes of Shelby’s wolf glowed. Mareus moaned fitfully, and his wound sizzled as Shelby’s wolf hovered over him, using her magic to heal the wound. A sheen of sweat shimmered on the boy’s face.

  “It will take more than she can give,” the dream version of Shelby said, referring to her blue wolf. “She sealed the wound, but he’s still bleeding inside. The most she can do is give him the comfort of an Omega.”

  “Mother,” Mareus said. The frailty in his voice stung her heart.

  “I’m here,” the dream Shelby said, taking her son’s hand.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “You have to do something,” Daeglan said. “Please, Eira.”

  Eira. The name of her wolf. How could I have forgotten? She had screamed that name when calling forth her wolf, but . . . why did you take that memory from me?

  “Please, Thyra,” Daelgan said. “Your wolf has to be able to do more.”

  Thyra? Shelby remembered her own name then.

  “He wants me to go with him,” Mareus said.

  “Who does, son?” Thyra asked.

  “Viersin.”

  Thyra looked at Mareus’s wolf.

  “He says he can heal me if I go with him,” Mareus said.

  “Go where?” Daeglan asked.

  Eira growled, locking her stare on Viersin. Something came into Thyra’s mind as she knelt by her son, something Eira had tried to hide from her, that all the wolves had hid from their chosen humans.

  “Inside him,” Shelby whispered, watching the panoramic scene before her.

  “Viersin can heal our son if he lets him,” Thyra said. She looked accusingly at Eira, and the she-wolf turned aside. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Eira is the only one who can heal,” Daeglan said.

  “A human, yes,” Thyra said, still looking at Eira as she received more insight. “But all wolves can heal themselves with the same magic Eira uses to heal us.” Thyra put a hand over her mouth. “No.”

  Knowing Thyra’s thoughts—her own long stowed memories—Shelby understood what Eira communicated to her.

  “He would have to join with Viersin,” Thyra said. “Let his mind flow into the wolf’s. They would . . . become one.”

  “Then do it!” Daeglan shouted.

  “Wait,” Thyra said. “There are consequences. This is why they did not ever share this knowledge with us. It . . . it costs them their sovereignty to allow the union.”

  Daeglan’s wolf growled now. “It’s true,” Daeglan said. Shelby saw the dream version of Kale understanding, apparently receiving reluctant confirmation from his wolf. “Our son would be changed forever.”

  “Ascension,” Thyra whispered, discerning the mind of her wolf. “They seek ascension.”

  “What does that mean?” Daeglan asked.

  Mareus coughed.

  “He is weak,” Daeglan said. He looked at Thyra. “He is going to die.”

  But they would lose their son if Viersin healed him anyway, wouldn’t they? At least his body? She swallowed. “It is better that he live in the form of an Immortal Wolf than die.” She looked at Viersin. “Very well.”

  Daeglan’s wolf growled at Viersin as did Eira. And suddenly, watching this vision, Shelby understood that Thyra misunderstood what Eira had shown her.

  “Wait!” Shelby screamed just as Viersin bit Mareus's arm, even knowing the dream versions of herself and Kale could not hear her. The boy yelped.

  “What have you done?” Daeglan shouted, rising to his feet.

  Mareus convulsed on the ground, writhing, and foaming at the mouth. The broken skin on his arm festered, oozing a thick yellow pus. Viersin’s eyes weakened after the bite, and he stepped away from his human. As the wolf lay on his side, he pawed at the ground, then went still.

  “Viersin is dead,” Thyra said. She looked to Eira with eyes wide. “What is happening?”

  Mareus continued to writhe. Then, a scream, a sound so tormented that Shelby’s heart twisted. His arms shot out from his sides, then jutted violently at unnatural angles. His shoulders twitched followed by his elbows. Snaps and pops sounded as Mareus’s fingers contorted. But it was his eyes that Shelby focused on. She saw them change, saw streaks of amber like lightning stain the irises until they glowed a burnt orange. Mareus’s face elongated from his nose, jutting toward the sky he stared up at. Even though it was a memory, Shelby smelled the telling odor of acidic citrus.

  Thyra turned away, but Daeglan did not, and Shelby saw his face go gaunt as his son shifted to the form of a wolf. A fierce wind whipped the cloak around Daeglan’s shoulders, but he stood firm, stoically watching the scene before him. The boy’s scream turned to a howl, then he fell quiet. Thyra looked back at the sudden silence, tense. Mareus had become the mirror image of his wolf. So riveted on the change that had come over Mareus, Shelby had momentarily forgotten about Viersin. She looked beside the altered body of Mareus, but the boy’s Immortal Wolf had vanished. Or was it Mareus that had vanished?

  No, neither has vanished, Shelby realized. They have joined.

  “Look!” Thyra said, pointing to the wolf’s side where a purple bulge throbbed just below the ribs. It was the same location of the wound that Mareus had sustained from the invader’s sword. The throbbing . . . internal bleeding. But the swelling lessened; the wound’s angry scar tissue, from Eira’s superficial healing, lightened. In seconds, it looked days old, then weeks. In less than two minutes, the wound completely faded. The form of Viersin changed, disappearing into the form of Mareus.

  “Shelby! Shelby!”

  The vision vanished from before her. “Shelby!” Grant said again.

  She blinked her eyes then looked at her dad.

  “I’ve been saying your name for thirty seconds,” Grant said “What happened?”

  Thirty seconds? Had it been only thirty seconds? Lifetimes seemed to have passed by. She flung her head to the left, hard, shaking the grogginess from her. “I know how to save him.”

  “All ears, kiddo.”

  “I have to make him shift. His wolf is dying.”

  “That’s what I was saying. How are you going to do that?”

  Right. There was that little issue. “I have to use its name.”

  “It has a name?” Grant asked.

  “All our wolves do.”

  Her dad raised his eyebrows. Huh, that surprised him. For a moment, Shelby thought that perhaps only she was ignorant of this.

  We hold them sacred. To allow others this knowledge is to potentially grant them control over us.

  That was a new voice in Shelby’s head. She knew it to be her wolf�
��s. Eira?

  Time is fleeting.

  I . . . I don’t understand what was shown to me.

  Viersin gave up his sovereignty to save your son. Eventually, all the immortal wolves of Alsvoira did so for the love of their humans.

  If you love your humans, Shelby asked, why do you shield your names?

  Love and trust are different. We have . . . seen the frailty of humanity before.

  Shelby wanted to ask more, so much more. For starters, where was this Alsvoira? But Kale, the man she had loved for eons, was dying.

  You will need to send him strength, Eira said. It is incredibly arduous to force a shift when our human does not will it.

  Shelby understood. She had feared Eira, feared what lay within her. And twice, at least partially, Eira had manifested to save Shelby. I will it now, Shelby said to her wolf. I need your power.

  The ache started in the center of her core and radiated outward in rippled pulses. It was only moments, the change occurring so quickly now, so naturally.

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you again,” Grant said, stepping back from his daughter.

  Shelby, fully in her wolf, stood over Kale, still connected to him through their thinning bond. She and Eira sent him strength and endurance through the symbiotic magic of an Omega, calling upon Kale’s wolf to rise. But the wolf was sluggish, fighting and losing against the sodium thiopental coursing through Kale’s veins.

  Skotha!

  The name jolted Kale’s wolf. Its pale, slit eyes, drooping with defeat, opened slightly wider. Shelby sent more strength, so much she feared their tenuous bond might rupture.

  Skotha! Shift!

  Shelby growled, staring at Kale’s closed eyes and into Skotha’s with her mind’s.

  I will not lose him, Skotha! Not after what I have learned. Not after just finding him again. You will fight and shift!

  Eira spoke. If he does not shift, I cannot help heal him. His body is too close to death. Skotha must manifest.

  Shelby’s strength slackened, having sent so much of herself to Kale and Skotha. She trembled as adrenaline shot through her, fighting against her own weariness.

  You. Must. Shift. Skotha. Shelby panted. Please.

  Do not plead, Eira said. Command him.

  Command him? A future Alpha? She was just an Omega. How could she command him?

  Because you are the Summer Omega, Eira said.

  Chenoa’s grim words came back to Shelby. “It is foretold, that when the one who is born into the late hour and blossoms late in the season rises in the world, she will carry the desert winds upon her lips and the fire upon her feet. The Summer Omega is a messenger that opens the way for destruction . . .”

  Shelby’s soul shrank as if covered by acid. Had she not brought destruction? Upon the pack? Her dad? Her vision darkened as she stared at Kale’s still form. Upon you.

  “. . . The season of dead things always follows summer.”

  Then Dakota’s words surfaced in her mind: “It also says that she will use the fires of wrath to flood the earth with tears of mercy.” But that was contradictory. Fire would evaporate tears, even those of mercy. Something caught in her mind as she wrestled with the meanings. Evaporate . . .

  Gennesaret’s words: “Fire can be cleansing . . .”

  Shelby’s eyes burned hotter, and she stoked that fire, letting it build until she saw the glow reflecting of them off Kale’s body. In her mind, she joined with Eira and bore into Skotha’s eyes, holding them with her focused intent, sending forth that fire. Kale’s body began to shake. Skotha’s eyes tried to look away, but Shelby growled, maintaining her hold over Kale’s wolf. She saw the poison in him and Kale, in their blood, saw it draining away Skotha’s life. Shelby attacked it, scourging Kale’s veins with her fire, evaporating it then blowing the clouds of it from him.

  . . . She will carry the desert winds upon her lips . . .

  Tears streaked from her amber eyes onto Kale’s lips.

  . . . With tears of mercy . . .

  And then, the change began. Subtle enough, but there. Yes, thank you, Skotha. Shelby scraped the bottom of her reserves for anything extra she could send and felt Eira doing the same. Kale manifested, and the large black form of Skotha came forth. The wound on his left rib cage sealed, and the one on the right side of his chest steamed as it excreted tiny slivers of silver shrapnel, then sealed. Skotha stirred.

  Thank you, Eira, Shelby said.

  I must rest, Thyra.

  Thyra. Shelby smiled at the use of her ancient name.

  Shelby shifted back to her human form.

  Grant cleared his throat. “I, uh, think your clothes are completely ruined now.”

  Kale’s wolf twitched, then groaned. Shelby laughed through an exhalation. He shifted, and that gorgeous color returned to his face as his human form re-emerged. His hazel eyes opened, pinpricks of amber lingering in the irises, and she saw them flutter before focusing on her.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice sounding like he had swallowed sand. “I had the craziest dream.”

  Shelby wiped a tear away and hugged him. “I know.”

  “You do?” Kale asked. “Was I talking in my sleep?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He did not hug her back but just lay there on the catwalk, seeming to concentrate on breathing. “Oh. Don’t you think the name ‘Bubba’s Chicken’ is a cool name for a franchise?”

  Shelby started to laugh and cry at the same time. “I love you, Kale Copeland.” Then she kissed him, letting her tears stream down her nose and onto his face. He did kiss her back.

  “So, I know this is a unique moment in your lives,” Grant said, “but I’m really not ready to see you and my daughter kissing while naked. Or even clothed.”

  Kale sat up with a grimace, looking down. “I’m naked?” Then he looked to Shelby and quickly turned his eyes aside. “Uh, yep, we’re both naked.” He glanced at Grant. “In front of your dad.”

  Shelby felt a weight drop in her heart. She reached out and grabbed Kale’s shoulder, digging into it. “Kale,” she rasped.

  “What is it, Shel?” Grant asked.

  Kale turned toward her.

  “Eyes up, Kale,” Grant grunted.

  Shelby swallowed hard. “The manor . . . so many have died . . .”

  Kale’s look hardened. “Who, Shelby?”

  She felt his dread through the bond.

  Elias led the pack through the manor, clearing each wing, room by room. With the help of the drones and security forces on the outside, the pack focused on the threats within the manor. There proved to be few left. He felt pride in them, banding together as they had during his absence, confronting the threat. But nineteen-year-old John Bingham took a silver round to the head in one of the corridors near the control room, where René lay dead. John’s sister, Rachel, lay down next to his body and would not be moved. Their mother, Anna, had also fallen. Most in the pack sustained minor wounds. Ackerman and Jonas Abbot each took rounds but survived.

  In the end, nine security personnel had died along with six members of the pack. Not including the hunters that died at the industrial park, Elias counted twenty-six hunter corpses on the manor grounds.

  “We will have to move quickly,” he said. Most of the pack shifted back to their human forms and retrieved their clothing.

  “Yes,” Gennesaret said. “The police will be arriving shortly.”

  “Have all the files been created?”

  “Yes, dear, of course.”

  In order to explain any kind of attack that Copeland Manor might suffer, Elias and Gennesaret had contingency plans ready to implement at a moment’s notice: an international client of Copeland Enterprises, who had made investments through shell corporations, had been using Copeland to launder money. Copeland discovered the breach and had been just about to alert the authorities when the client became aware of Copeland’s discovery. A team of private military contractors had been hired by the client to put a stop to Copeland’s plans
to reveal the crime. Fortunately, Copeland’s security forces had been enough to repel that attack. Files, trade blotters, and records had been preloaded into Copeland Enterprises’s servers. The story would hold up.

  “Ackerman,” Elias said. “I’ll leave things with you for the cleanup.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Elias held a hand out to his wife. “Genn, let’s go see our son.”

  “He is not dead,” Gennesaret said. “I feel him as only a mother can.” And then Gennesaret smiled. “And Shelby shifted. I am proud of her.”

  Elias nodded.

  “She did?” Sadie squealed. “Really?”

  “Did you not feel her reassurance and comfort during the battle?” Gennesaret asked. “I think she radiates it subconsciously.”

  “Whoa,” Sadie said. “That’s what that was?” She looked at Bubba. “I actually thought I felt confident because you were with me, Deshawn.”

  Bubba looked stunned, whether because of the use of his real name or her unexpected civility, Elias could not tell. Bubba smiled widely.

  “Really?”

  Sadie’s eyebrows pitched. “No.”

  “Cold. Just cold.”

  “You know Bubba Tubba, we don’t let humans know our secret and live.”

  Bubba swallowed. “I ain’t gonna tell.”

  “Nothing for it,” Sadie said. “I’m going to have to turn you.”

  “What’s that? What you mean, girl?”

  Sadie lowered her chin, her red hair falling around her face, staring at Bubba from beneath her eyebrows, and took a single step toward the large man with a low growl coming from her chest. He flinched and moved back, stumbling and falling on his butt.

  Sadie laughed. “You’d just become a panda bear if I turned you.”