“They’re wearing ear plugs,” I said softly for Hunter’s benefit. That explained why the uber-alpha hadn’t been able to use his strong compulsion auditorily—the other shifters had arrived prepared for such an attack. But perhaps our not-so-secret weapon could still stare down each enemy individually if he could force the wolves to meet his eyes.
Hunter glanced up at me, and it was almost as if he read my mind. Nodding once, the uber-alpha set off toward the lead shifter, dancing around the latter as the enemy strove to keep his head averted. And rather than helping their compatriot, the other wolves parted to surge around the strange battle of wills and continue with their own advance.
Hunter’s ploy would likely work, I suspected, but it would take time to hit all six enemy werewolves one by one. The rest of us needed to pull our weight and defend ourselves in the meantime. So I unsheathed my sword and jerked my head to motion Cinnamon and Ginger away from the tent. In response, the duo slunk off to the side in preparation for flanking our attackers while Glen and Lia drew in closer to me.
Then the campsite descended into such savagery that I could no longer keep track of what each member of my pack was doing. There were wolves everywhere, the enemies’ strange silence making their curled lips and sharp teeth appear even more ominous. Two sprang toward Lia from either side in a pincer maneuver and Glen and I worked as a team to drive them back, he with his fangs and I with my sword.
After what felt like hours but was probably less than five minutes, pain threw me off my stride as one of the enemy shifters latched onto my leg, breaking through my jeans to pierce the skin below. I raised my sword, unsure where to cut in order to harm but not kill the beast. But before I could decide, Lia had slammed into the enemy’s shoulder and knocked him aside while Glen took the beast the rest of the way to the ground.
In the ensuing lull, my slender young savior looked up at me with such question in her young eyes that I couldn’t quite make myself take her to task for diving into the skirmish. It went against all my instincts to allow a sixteen-year-old to fight for her life. But Lia’s wolf wasn’t quite as submissive as my own, and she’d just proven herself to be both able and willing to defend not only herself but me as well. So who was I to say a halfie had no place in combat?
“Thanks,” I said instead of voicing the dueling emotions that swirled through my mind in the battle’s split-second pause. And I could have sworn the girl’s shoulders broadened ever so slightly at the praise.
Then, to my dismay, she darted away to flank Hunter, who had frozen one wolf and was now playing a game of cat and mouse with another. The halfie watched the action for several long seconds, then repeated her previous bulldozer maneuver, this time throwing the enemy onto his side just long enough to prevent him from evading the uber-alpha’s medusa-like gaze.
Two wolves down, six to go. Because my leg-biter had evaded Glen’s grip, and I saw now that my initial head count had been off as well. A quick survey of the campsite turned up eight enemy shifters, which meant their lessened numbers still matched our own.
And the enemy was already regrouping. Our remaining attackers split into two parties, one zeroing in on Lia and the other on me. They’d unerringly set their sights on the two halfies within our clan, which probably meant there was a dominant werewolf present who was able to pick out the specifics of our lupine souls beneath our skins. That same alpha would also be able to bark all of us except Hunter into submission, which was a danger to keep in mind since our side hadn’t thought to don earplugs.
Can’t deal with that now, I reminded myself. We’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it.
“Glen, go with Lia,” I commanded instead of worrying about the issue. I didn’t want the girl to be left dangling in the wind during her first altercation, especially not when she appeared to be a person of interest to our enemy.
Sure, Lia was fighting alongside Hunter. But the uber-alpha didn’t seem to understand pack dynamics in the same way the rest of us did. I never have seen the point of a pack, he’d said the night before, words that later haunted me as I tried to fall asleep in the dark tent surrounded by my own clan members. If Hunter didn’t believe in a pack, what did he believe in?
Glen, on the other hand, was ultra-protective of every member of our little clan...me included. He struggled against my compulsion for a moment, clearly unwilling to leave me alone with only a sword to defend against the three strong wolves stalking ever closer. But eventually my second followed my gaze with his own and conceded the point. Just before the enemies blocked the last possible escape route, he sprinted off to the side to join up with our pack’s youngest member.
That’s the point of a pack, Hunter, I wanted to say. From each according to his ability. To each according to his need. In other words, we have each other’s backs.
It wasn’t an issue the uber-alpha and I could hash out right then, though. Not when three outpack males were currently lunging toward my feet with murder on their minds. I flicked my sword back and forth through the air, cutting a long gash in one wolf’s shoulder and nearly skewering another before I pulled the blow. I hadn’t forgotten our need to take at least one of these shifters alive for questioning, nor did I want to add another notch on my belt and more nightmares to my already interrupted sleep.
And, apparently, our enemies felt the same way. Because the trio of shifters facing me could have easily surged forward en masse and ripped out my throat. But they seemed willing to play a game of attrition instead, waiting me out until I conceded defeat.
It won’t take long, I admitted. Already my arms were growing tired from the weight of my weapon, and the first fumbled thrust would give these wolves the upper hand.
Then Cinnamon and Ginger materialized out of the fog. The trouble twins’ lupine fur was tinged with red, the coloration not as strong as their vibrant hair in human form but equally eye-catching. And I couldn’t help smiling as I took in their grinning faces. Ginger’s teeth were bloody, but she was clearly having a blast. And Cinnamon was always glad to protect his sister’s back. As an added bonus, neither looked ready to fall over from exhaustion the way I was either.
As soon as she came within range, in fact, the female wolf bounded up against the hindquarters of the smallest enemy, a younger specimen who was lagging slightly behind his compatriots. Ignoring the other two attackers, the trouble twins continued to focus on the loner, Ginger grabbing him by the ruff and shaking while Cinnamon went in for what could have been a killing blow to his jugular. Instantly, the enemy stilled, rolling over to show his belly in a juvenile show of submission.
He’s just a kid, I realized. But I didn’t have time to pay closer attention to the twins’ efforts because the battle raging right in front of my eyes had yet to slow. The two older wolves were unconcerned by the loss of their youngest member, and they now had their parries down to a science. One lunged forward quickly followed by the other, the repeated motions pushing me back step by step until I nearly tripped over the stake holding up one corner of our tent.
I was being drawn away from the larger battlefield, but there was nothing I could do to prevent the herding action. Not while I remained unwilling to outright slaughter my enemies and not while the smooth operators dodged most of my blows anyway. In a two-against-one altercation, it seemed inevitable that I would eventually be ground down beneath their mechanical attacks until I was forced to mimic the enemy youngster’s show of submission.
And then a huge, brindled wolf leapt out of the fog with a smaller animal at his heels. Hunter and Lia. The latter rubbed her cheek against the former’s shoulder in a display of pack solidarity and Hunter spared one quick swipe of his tongue across Lia’s left eye before getting down to business.
I caught my breath in surprise as Lia darted in alone. The teenager drew the attention of one of the males then danced away on light feet, leaving the enemy torn between turning back around to face me and lunging at the younger half-blood. And Hunter took advantage of the moment of
hesitation, sliding in front of the outpack male and freezing him with a single glance.
Now my only remaining attacker turned to face the larger threat, leaving me unencumbered for the first time since the skirmish had begun. I spared a quick glance across the larger battlefield, realizing that the sounds of fighting had ceased everywhere except in my immediate vicinity. Ginger and Cinnamon were standing over a cowering, now-human teenager while Glen guarded six frozen shifters scattered across the campsite. The enemy was entirely present and accounted for.
Except for one last shifter who had been intent upon taking me down only seconds earlier. But even as I turned back around to face him, Lia was leaping astride the stranger’s back, drawing his eyes unconsciously to those of Hunter, who had positioned himself just behind his opponent’s left shoulder.
The final enemy went still and Lia pranced triumphantly atop his back for a long moment, her joy at pulling her own weight in a successful battle nearly palpable in the air. The half-blood was so pleased, in fact, that she raised her muzzle to the sky in preparation for an exuberant howl.
I hated to be the one throwing cold water on the youngster’s elation, but there was still the cookie lady to consider. So I did my pack leader job and slapped the teenager down.
“Lia,” I said quietly but sternly. In her enthusiasm, the kid struggled against my compulsion for a moment. But then she leapt down and slunk toward me on her belly in a simple but effective werewolf apology.
“I understand,” I soothed. And I did. It was invigorating to discover your strengths when you were a sixteen-year-old girl who had always in the past been the weakest wolf at the party. Lia’s unlikely partnership with Hunter had not only saved our pack, it seemed to have given the timid teenager a new lease on life.
I, on the other hand, was exhausted both physically and mentally. Sure, we’d conquered the invaders without loss of life on either side. And I had a good feeling about our ability to wrest information out of the teenager now pinned beneath the trouble twins’ paws.
But, unlike Lia, I’d only barely managed to hold my own even with the help of the heavy hunk of steel clenched between my intertwined fists.
As if the thought had released the last iota of control I possessed over my tired muscles, the tip of said sword fell to the ground with a thunk. This battle had made one thing clear at least. As a pack leader, I was worse than worthless. An alpha I was not.
Chapter 8
But an alpha I was determined to become. So I squashed my own angst and headed over to deal with the trouble twins and their captured prey.
In human form, the teenage boy looked even younger than Lia and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him as I took in his scratched skin and submissive posture. Still, it wouldn’t do for me to appear soft, not when the prisoner’s compatriots might pop back to life at any moment. We needed to extract any information we could and then hit the road without allowing the morning battle to resume. So I firmed up my resolve to act like a traditional pack leader, folding the gifted mantle back around me like a protective cloak.
Before I could do more than nudge Glen and Cinnamon toward breaking camp, though, pounding footsteps drew my gaze away from our prisoner. Quill was running flat out toward us, hair soaked and only pants in place. “What happened?” the cowboy shifter demanded as he took in the jumble of wolves and camping paraphernalia dotting the site.
Despite my best efforts to keep my weaker half asleep, surprise combined with morning-fuzz brain woke the inner beast. With her at the helm, our eyes skimmed briefly across our newest member’s six-pack abs, following the line of hair at the bottom of his flat belly until it disappeared behind his massive cowboy buckle. Quill hadn’t taken the time to don shoes, I saw, but he had cinched his belt shut.
Too bad. The male’s physique was impressive even by werewolf standards.
Mirroring my wolf’s appreciation of the man-candy before us, Ginger hummed her interest in the cowboy shifter’s half-clad body. But Hunter was less impressed. The uber-alpha’s growl was low but intense, raising hairs on the back of my neck and changing Quill’s body language from concern to aggression. Just what I needed—a fight within our own ranks to complete our pre-breakfast exertions.
Figuring the trouble twin’s avid admiration wasn’t helping matters, I dealt with the most likely source of strife first. “Ginger, you can join Cinnamon with the packing,” I said firmly. In response, the teenage wolf shot me a grumpy glance before stretching upwards onto two legs, losing fur and gaining human characteristics as she rose.
But even though she followed my order to the letter, I didn’t miss the way Ginger jutted out her naked chest and brushed up against Quill despite having plenty of space to walk around. As usual, the twin was complying...albeit grudgingly.
I wasn’t surprised by Ginger’s flirtiness, nor was I surprised by the cowboy shifter’s response. What red-blooded American male wouldn’t glance down at the erect nipples grazing his bare chest? A smirk lit Quill’s face, proving that he liked what he saw, and I could tell it took an effort for our newest pack mate to refrain from reaching out and touching the merchandise being put so boldly on display.
But that issue soon became irrelevant when an overwhelming aroma of rotten bananas filled the air. Pop. Pop, pop. Pop, pop, pop, pop.
The first wolf to reanimate was the one I’d fought against at the very end of our battle, but soon all seven beasts were once again set into motion. Only the boy crumpled at our feet remained still, and that was only due to Hunter’s quick thinking rather than to his previous compulsion. Before I even realized what was happening, the uber-alpha had lunged forward to physically pin the teenager to the earth using the force of his front paws.
Which left one enemy on the ground...and seven standing against us.
“Shit.” The word slipped out of my mouth without conscious volition, but I stood by the sentiment nonetheless. My clan hadn’t done so badly in the preceding fight, but I had a feeling we’d fare much worse a second time around. After all, I’d just sent three of our crew away in human form, and they’d be hard-pressed to fight if forced to make a second rapid shift after such a short recovery period.
Plus, I’d made the beginner mistake of abandoning my sword on the ground where it fell, which left me entirely defenseless. Some alpha I am.
Hunter’s growl ratcheted up another notch, and Lia’s furry body pushed up against the uber-alpha’s side to either give or receive comfort. Our odds of survival weren’t good even if Quill turned out to be adept at speedy transformations, which was far from a given. My own pack mates had learned the trick from our previous bloodling alpha, but most shifters took quite a while to change shape even under the best of circumstances. With angry werewolves out for blood to distract him, Quill might not manage to shift at all.
As I wracked my brain to think of some weapon I’d forgotten, the seven outpack males moved in to form a ring around us, their gazes still intent upon me and Lia and seemingly uninterested in the teenager who lay in the dirt at our feet. I didn’t dare to breathe, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Then, as if at a hidden signal, all seven turned as a unit and padded away. A stalemate—much better than the outcome I would have expected.
In fact, as the last furry tail disappeared into the rising mist, I had the surreal impression that our enemies had never actually been present in the flesh. Only the rotten-banana aroma—and the wild-eyed prisoner—proved that the preceding battle had actually occurred.
“Hunter...?” I wanted to ask him to see our enemies to the virtual door and ensure they didn’t circle back around to ambush us before we were able to make tracks. But even I didn’t have the guts to order an uber-alpha to do my bidding.
The strong shifter vacillated for a moment, his head whipping back and forth between the trees to the right and Lia to his left. At first, I thought my so-called mate had taken offense at even the carefully veiled command. But now I realized that Hunter simply felt uncomfor
table relinquishing his ability to protect the girl with whom he seemed to have formed a battlefield attachment.
I’ve got her, I wanted to say. But instead, I simply reached out and pulled Lia’s furry body against my legs. And as if he understood my unspoken words, Hunter nodded his thanks. Brushing past Quill in unconscious mimicry of Ginger’s earlier actions, the uber-alpha provided a not-so-subtle warning to the cowboy shifter even as he headed off into the woods.
“Hey!” Quill complained as his legs were nearly thrust out from beneath him by the force of Hunter’s passing. But I noticed that our newest pack mate didn’t try to back his words up with a threat...which was a smart move. None of us mere mortals could hold a candle to Hunter’s dominance. We were better off not even trying.
Then my attention returned to the prisoner, who was even now being pushed back toward the ground by Glen’s human hands. “Don’t even think about it,” my beta growled. I wasn’t so sure the kid had really been trying to escape. But a little intimidation never hurt in an interrogation setting, so I nodded my thanks before getting down to business.
“What’s your name?” I asked, crouching down and pushing my upper body into the boy’s personal space. He was still wearing the same sort of collar that had encircled each enemy werewolf’s neck, and I could now pinpoint the rotten-banana odor that so recently filled the campsite. The source was apparently a small plastic cube embedded in the fabric, and as soon as my eye picked out the difference in texture, I reached forward to examine the device.
Before my fingers could even brush against his skin, though, the teenager cringed away as if I’d planned to either strike or strangle him. “Crew Franklin,” he mumbled quickly in reply to my earlier question, and I could have sworn I saw a tear brimming up on the bottom lid of one eye.
I swore silently. The prisoner really was just a kid and one who probably hadn’t learned to shift more than a few short months ago. He was fourteen, fifteen tops. Crew must have stumbled into outpack shenanigans way past his pay grade then gotten in over his head, but my gut told me he was still entirely redeemable. Given the right leadership, the boy would likely turn into a fine member of his own clan one day.
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