by Fel Fern
“You should know complimenting me too much is lethal,” he warned her.
She flashed him a smile but continued looking at the contenders. The group of men and women down below only had to do one thing to win the position of pack enforcer—challenge one of the current enforcers and win. Not the easiest task, either. If they expected an easy win, then they’d lost the fight already.
Those who challenged Sabine were foolish enough to think she was an easy target. He watched a couple of those fights. It only took three fights that didn’t last a minute before those werewolves realized they were up against the Ghost.
Sabine had been out of commission last month, had gone into a coma after taking a bullet in the skull for the Alpha’s mate. Her brother, Santino, another formidable enforcer for the pack, had become temperamental and unmanageable as a result.
Everyone knew that to get past Deacon Becker, Alpha of the Devil Hills wolves, one had to defeat the Devil and the Ghost. Both Santino and his sister were half-Espers, half-werewolves, and provided their Alpha with natural shielding abilities, making Deacon immune to mental attacks.
Lance was relieved that episode was over. Santino’s healer mate managed to wake Sabine from the coma, and Santino finding his mate calmed the dangerous and volatile enforcer.
Lance knew Santino was powerful enough to challenge him for the position of Beta, but pure strength alone wasn’t the only reason why Deacon chose him as his second. Since Deacon grew up with Santino and Sabine, they naturally supported his every decision. Deacon relied on Lance to call him out for any bullshit, in case he went too far or became too ruthless.
Being Alpha was tough. Lance didn’t envy Deacon for that role, but he acknowledged that Deacon, for all his hardness, was essential to the pack. Unlike Garret, his old Alpha, Deacon made decisions carefully, analyzed every situation to minimize losses for the pack. To Deacon, the pack always came first, and the Alpha didn’t differentiate between the dominant and submissive members of the pack.
“I’m surprised you and your brother voted with me instead of against me during that last pack meeting,” he told her.
“We’re all in agreement that some of our senior soldiers are eligible for the role,” she answered. “But this is all for show anyway, we both know it, too.”
Lance raised an eyebrow. He understood why Deacon would choose to open up the position to other outsiders, but part of him remained uneasy. Lance couldn’t put a finger on the reason, though. The Devil Hills paranormal community had remained closed off for years, but lately, they’d been letting new arrivals into their territory, those fleeing from the Humans Matter government.
Lance couldn’t argue. If they never let those Espers and shifters into their territory, two of their enforcers and even Deacon would have never found their mates. Still, he didn’t like seeing too many unfamiliar faces so soon.
“Is something bothering you?” she asked him. “Your wolf feels different.”
Most shifters were taught from a young age to control their inner beasts, that their animals would always try to fight them, but Lance had always been different. He’d always been at peace, in complete agreement with his inner wolf. As a result, when a dire situation arose, he’d be level-headed and calm where most werewolves would be too angry to think logically.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. Lance would have never shared his uncertainty with the other enforcers, but there was always something about Sabine that made it easy to open up, and she never spilled secrets. “All background checks have been made on the challengers?”
“Yes, we’ve already turned away those who raised red flags. Daryl and I have appraised every challenger. Most seem to check out.”
Daryl was the Alpha’s empath mate and a powerful Esper capable of reading emotions from anyone, even Espers and other paranormals who had mental shields, and he seldom made a mistake. Sabine cocked her head and Lance knew she was either communicating mind-to-mind with Santino or Deacon. No one knew exactly how Deacon established that mental link with the siblings, but Lance and the others considered it useful.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Santino said someone has the balls to challenge you—his exact words.”
He frowned. “Fine, I’m itching for a fight anyway.”
“The challenger told Santino that you two go way back,” she said, giving him a curious look.
Lance froze. He didn’t exactly hide his past but didn’t advertise it, either. Only Deacon knew about his full history, but everyone in his former pack had been wiped out. Who could it be? A ghost or a demon seeking vengeance?
“Who?” he asked, voice a little harsh.
“Joey Mills.”
Time froze to a complete standstill. Lance’s mind transported him to five years ago, the morning he woke up, limbs tangled with Joey’s. He remembered thinking he wanted to start each day, body draped over Joey’s slender one. Lance had been the only survivor of that massacre—or so he thought.
When he returned to the Black Claws pack house, the fire had eaten everything. Lance only came back to ashes and regret. How many times had he wished he’d done things differently?
His first thought had been selfishly of Joey, how he left things hanging between them. Lance should have told Joey the truth, that they were mates. He should have stood his ground and convinced Garret and Warren that it was foolish sending their full force that night.
All Lance cared about back then had been proving his worth, telling himself the Alpha and Beta made the right decisions for the pack. Lance had been no better than a soldier, his obedience unflinching, on the outside at least. Deep inside, he harbored doubts.
All these years, he thought Joey died in that fire. Fuck. Was the bastard really alive? Why only contact him now?
“Tell Santino I’ll head to the challenge circle right now,” he said.
His voice sounded calm enough, but his wolf was in turmoil. How dare Joey let them believe he was dead? Seeing the ruins of the Black Claws pack house, part of Lance died, thinking he’d never see his soul mate again. Maybe Lance made a mistake after all. Joey wasn’t his mate, because mates didn’t hurt or leave each other behind, right?
Joey had Freida to think of and Joey was no fighter, he told himself. Still, it pissed him off. Lance growled at Sabine when she placed a hand on his shoulder. Another weaker packmate would have backed away in fear, but not her. Lance regretted his actions immediately, because she and the other enforcers looked to him for stability, yet here he was, losing his temper because of a little blast from the past.
Lance had a new life now, a new pack he’d always dreamt of being a part of. He’d left his past behind, proven his loyalty many times to Deacon, to the other wolves and the other paranormal groups in Devil Hills. Lance was respected for his mind and his strength. Deacon valued his opinions, and even Deacon’s Devil and Ghost listened and obeyed his orders—well, Sabine did, at least.
“Who is he?” she finally asked, letting go of him.
He didn’t answer her, not yet, but he did tell her, “Continue keeping a close eye on the contenders.”
“Of course, Beta.” She gave him a nod. She used his title, he realized, acknowledging his position as second only to the Alpha and, at the same time, reminding him of the responsibilities that came with being pack Beta.
“Sabine, when I face Joey, I might not be myself,” he admitted, because he knew he couldn’t remain logical or emotionally detached when it came to Joey.
“I understand. We’ll remain on guard. Santino says this contender doesn’t smell like a warrior, so he isn’t worried, but he’s dangerous in other ways, isn’t he?”
“Ask me that question again.”
She did.
Lance made up his mind. He had an answer for her. Lance had grown to love this land, his packmates, liked working with Deacon and the other enforcers. He might have not been born into the Devil Hills pack, but never once did the others treat him like an outsider.
; If Joey sought him out after the massacre, he would have stood by Joey and Freida’s side, he would have never left them and would have protected them with his last breath. Lance didn’t exactly hide. Everyone knew who he was when he won the position of Beta to the most powerful pack in the country. Why did Joey only approach him now? Could it be an imposter?
Lance realized it didn’t matter.
“Beta?” she prodded, probably because he’d fallen silent.
“You don’t have to worry about a thing. He’s history,” he told Sabine, before leaving the cliff to confront his past.
Chapter Two
“Are you insane?” Freida hissed into his ear once she’d gotten him alone, far from the other shifters in the clearing and deep inside the woods.
Joey refused to let his guard down, though, knowing they were constantly watched. The Devil Hills wolves didn’t take chances when it came to security. He didn’t see all of them but he knew the grim-looking men and women loosely scattered around the clearing wouldn’t hesitate to end someone who broke the rules.
Despite Freida and him being nomads, he heard of the Devil Hills community and the dominant wolf pack which ruled the territory. Few groups who challenged them came back unscathed, and even the Humans Matter government stayed clear of them. Nearby, he spotted an enormous red-tailed hawk watching Freida and him intently. He tugged her further into the woods, convinced that was one of the hawk shifters the pack had an alliance with.
Rumor had it that the hawk shifters were not the only other supernaturals he had to worry about. A vampire coven was said to live in these lands, too. He shuddered. Joey had never seen a vampire but he heard of them.
It didn’t surprise him the Devil Hills wolves held the challenges in this particular strip of woods, far from the heart of their territory but near the border which separated their lands from the open road where anyone was prey.
Joey took deep breaths before answering his sister. He didn’t like the way the other contenders looked at her, at him. They knew neither Freida nor him belonged here, but he didn’t care. Joey always did what was necessary for their survival. Life on the road hadn’t been exactly easy, especially with rumors floating around that the Humans Matter government started doubling their efforts to exterminate the paranormal.
Trust didn’t come easy these days, and every species the humans considered enemies weren’t safe, not even on the open road.
“I know what I’m doing,” he told his sister.
“Like hell you do. Lance can kill you. Damn it, Joey. He’s the pack Beta, second only to Deacon Becker. You know what they say about the demon wolf Alpha,” Freida whispered.
Joey knew. He’d heard the same gossip circulating around the roadside bars and stops they’d made. The Discipline Squad tried to invade the Devil Hills territory numerous times but failed. Joey knew some of the rumors had to be false. The pack probably liked having the black reputation to scare everyone else.
Deacon Becker was supposedly larger than any werewolf Alpha, with black fur and black eyes to match his demon-wolf-from-hell description. Deacon was supposedly untouchable, uncontested when it came to physical combat. Some even said that Deacon was immune to the mental powers of vampires and Espers.
The Alpha always had two lethal silver-eyed enforcers with him at all times, the Devil and the Ghost. Joey had decided to see how some of the fights went before announcing who he’d like to challenge. Those who challenged either the Devil or the Ghost didn’t last a minute in the challenge circle, so he made sure to steer clear of them.
“Lance has a weakness,” he told his sister.
“What weakness? Joey, he became pack enforcer for the Black Claws when he was only twenty-five years old,” she pointed out.
Me.
“I heard the Ghost and the Devil became enforcers at a young age, too,” he said.
“That’s my point. Lance belongs here, to this den of monsters,” she whispered. “We don’t.”
“Better here than being out there, constantly worried about the Discipline Squad rounding up shifters and Espers traveling in small groups,” he answered.
“Brother, it’s been five years. What if the Lance we used to know is gone?”
“Lance won’t hurt me that badly,” Joey answered with a confidence he didn’t quite feel.
In fact, he was counting on their past to ensure Lance wouldn’t kill him outright. He only needed to buy Freida and him time. They had a close brush with the Disincline Squad a week ago. Hell, the Squad had been relentless in rounding up shifters so often that to survive, fellow shifters turned on each other just to buy themselves more time.
By sheer luck, Joey had glimpsed the white uniformed man outside in the parking lot of the roadhouse where both Freida and he had been working at to make ends meet. The Discipline Squad member had been wearing a dark overcoat over the uniform. If Joey hadn’t caught that flash of white and the gun underneath, Freida and he would have been caught along with the other paranormals in that roadhouse, too.
“Done whispering?” an amused male voice asked. Joey automatically stood in front of his sister, narrowing his eyes, then swallowed as the speaker came into their line of sight. His inner wolf snarled inside of him in warning, because this was a predator in human skin they wouldn’t be able to take.
Santino Moreno was built like a titan. He had the body of a warrior, but he had a face most men and women fell easily for. Every inch of this monster screamed lethal, made all the hairs on his arms stand up. Small wonder they called him the Devil. Outworldly silver eyes met his.
“You’re up next, Joey Mills. Are you sure you want to go up against our Beta?” Santino flashed him a dangerous smile.
He bared his teeth in response, ignoring Freida clutching at the hem of his shirt. Joey was scared shitless of this enforcer, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let Santino just how much he terrified Joey. Even his inner wolf whimpered inside of him, not wanting to cross the dangerous shifter. It must have been so much worse for his sister.
He’d seen one of Santino’s fights. Santino had been up against a scarred and burly werewolf loner in his prime, but he didn’t even bother shifting as he took the man down, choking him until the challenger pleaded mercy.
“I’m ready,” he said.
Unable to help himself, he turned around to face Freida, who continued to tremble. He knew their brush with the Discipline Squad a week ago had shaken her up and she was scared for him. The years hadn’t been easy on either of them. Joey couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep. Thoughts about their next move, where they’d go next, and his constant worry for Freida plagued him. They once tried another pack but that prove disastrous when a dominant werewolf male he distrusted took interest in his sister.
Joey was no catch, but his sister was a sweet, submissive wolf and the perfect age to be bred by a more dominant shifter male.
“Don’t worry. On my honor as one of the Devil Hills wolf pack enforcers, no one will touch your sister while you’re fighting Lance,” Santino said, as if reading his thoughts.
Santino’s words surprised him a little. The enforcer nodded to the trees left of him and he looked up, seeing a hawk landing on one of the branches. That altered his perception of the Devil a little, and while he didn’t know Santino that well, he had a feeling the enforcer would keep his word.
“Why would you do that?” he had to ask. “And how did you know she’s my sister?”
“One, you two look alike, and two, I have a sister also.”
“I’ve seen your sister take down vicious and fully grown werewolves without breaking a sweat,” he pointed out.
“Well, of course. I should be the one asking the questions here, little wolf. Why did you bring your sister to a place like this? Did no one tell you never to bring a submissive shifter to a clearing full of dominant and bloodthirsty werewolves?”
Anger rose inside him. He stiffened but knew Santino hit a mark. Joey took a chance coming here, but he
knew the other challengers wouldn’t do anything to Freida, not with the Devil Hills wolves watching.
In the end, he was right, because here was the Devil, offering his sister protection. Wait. Did Santino imply he changed his mind?
“A moment ago, you said you’d guarantee her safety,” he blurted.
“I’m not taking that away.” Santino put his fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply.
A slender female werewolf with summer blue eyes and tawny fur appeared from the bushes, but his wolf could instantly tell this was a dominant female. “This is Ariel, my second-in-command. She’ll watch over your sister. Now let’s not keep the Beta waiting.”
Santino unsettled him further by walking next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder. Jesus. Was this man really a werewolf when he moved more like some big cat in human skin? He glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see Ariel matching pace with his sister. Freida looked a lot calmer, too.
They finally arrived at the clearing. A few of the challengers scoffed at seeing him, but he only had eyes for one man, one wolf. Santino gave him a rude push toward the circle. The crowd parted ways.
Streaks of blood and fur still covered parts of the ground from the other challenges, telling Joey he didn’t belong here. He reminded himself that while he might not be trained in combat, he protected his sister well enough.
Lance appeared on the other end of the circle, barefoot and only wearing jeans. He sucked in a breath. Lance looked bigger, having gained more muscle than the last time Joey spotted him. Old rake marks and scars marred his upper body. Where the Black Claw pack tattoo used to be on Lance’s left shoulder had been replaced with a new pack tattoo, the grinning wolf of Devil Hills.
Lance wore his dark gold hair short now, as opposed to the shoulder length he favored before. Those brilliant jade irises burned with bright hatred, though, and the intensity in them unsettled Joey. The Beta of the Devil Hills wolf pack carried the scent of aggression with him, along with wood and pine, the same smell as these woods.