by Celia Kyle
Real Men Growl
Real Men Shift
Celia Kyle
Marina Maddix
Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
About the Authors
Blurb
He expected gratitude, but what he got was a gorgeous she-wolf who defied him at every turn.
For six torturous years, Omega Rachel Fields did what she could to protect her packmates from the evil Riverson werewolves. She endured living side-by-side with the men who murdered her uncle and seized his pack — all while raising her orphaned nephew as her own son. Now that their reign of terror is over, Rachel is determined to live life on her own terms [del for once]. Screw joining another pack! And she doesn’t give a rat’s hiney who it pisses off.
Gavin Blackwood has one job: Redistribute the survivors of the Riversons to healthy packs. There’s only one problem — and she just happens to be the old pack’s sexy-as-sin Omega, not to mention the most stubborn she-wolf he’s ever met. Oh, and if his wolf’s sniffer is right, his mate!
Even though he’s an Enforcer, Gavin knows brute force won’t change Rachel’s mind. As eager as he is to get her curves into his bed, he’ll have to tread carefully to convince her that she and her young ward would be safer on Blackwood lands. But will they be? Someone from her past has other ideas.
Chapter One
Dust tickled Gavin’s nose until he lingered at the terrible edge of nearly sneezing… only for it to vanish, leaving him tense with anticipation. Now he wanted to sneeze but couldn’t. The closest thing he could compare the experience to was losing out on an orgasm before sliding into home plate. Not that he’d ever experienced such a tragedy. Nope, not him. That kind of thing didn’t happen to the youngest Blackwood brother—and enforcer of the Blackwood pack.
Not that he’d done much enforcing lately.
The National Ruling Circle had entrusted Gavin with handling the merging of Brian Riverson’s hodgepodge pack with others, though a good number of them were moving to Blackwood. With the lunatic in custody, the ex-alpha couldn’t stand in the way. Brian’s crazier father, Frank, was dead and was no longer a concrete block in the way, either.
Unfortunately, the damned transition was made doubly difficult due to Riverson’s half-assed, confusing as hell bookkeeping. Did they even know how to add and subtract? What the hell?
Gavin had been in tiny Burrman, Georgia, for days—most of it in Brian’s small office tucked in the far corner of the pack house. He’d been hunched over the desk, scouring what few records he could find to try and untangle the mess. Mostly what he’d discovered were the rantings of the certifiably insane.
And Post-its. So many damned Post-its plastered over just about every flat surface available. As far as he could tell, none had any real value or meaning. He’d kept only one, which depicted a giant robot shooting laser beams from its eyes. It seemed to sum up the Riversons’ philosophy on pack leadership perfectly.
Rubbing his nose frantically to rid himself of that itchy, unfulfilled remnant of a failed sneeze, Gavin pulled open the bottom drawer of Brian’s desk. He’d already checked every nook and cranny in the cluttered and utterly disorganized office twice. Yet he still hadn’t found the pack registry documenting births, deaths, desertions, and any other major event of note within the pack. It had to be hidden in there somewhere, but the place was such a mess, it might take weeks to sniff out its hidey hole. Weeks he sure as hell didn’t want to spend in Burrman.
Instead of rifling through the junk in the drawer—again—Gavin pulled out the entire thing and set it on the desk. It still held the same contents as the last two times he’d peered inside: a handful of ancient invoices, an empty bottle of Mad Dog 20/20—how poetic—a recipe book on how to cook on a cast iron stove, and a Celebration Barbie, of all things.
He was nearly ready to throw the drawer across the room when something odd about it niggled his mind. Something… not quite right. From the side, it appeared fairly deep, except the meager contents filled it to the top. He dumped the odd assortment on the desk and then returned the drawer to the surface of the desk. Now free of its contents, he reached in and tapped a knuckle on the drawer bottom. Just a couple of quick raps were enough to tell him the truth—the drawer had a hollow bottom.
Gavin ran his fingers along the edges, and the tips just glanced over the edge of a tab that stuck up between the bottom and side. He hadn’t seen it in the past, but now that he knew it was there, the small piece was obvious. Except his man-fingers couldn’t grasp the tiny bit. He grumbled and growled when he realized he’d need help. To crack open a drawer. He mentally sighed and then drew in a deep breath.
“Nora!” he shouted toward the door.
Nora Cooper, a petite brunette in her early forties with piercing blue eyes and a pretty smile, had been serving as Gavin’s assistant and liaison between him and the Riverson pack. Actually, he had to get out of the habit of referring to the wolves as Riversons. They’d unanimously voted to revert to their old name—Fields. And that vote had given him hope for the battered and bruised group of wolves. If they hated the name Riverson so much that they’d rename themselves, integrating into new packs might go smoother.
“You bellowed?” Nora poked her head around the corner.
Nora’s lineage traced all the way back to the beginning of the Fields pack, and if the she-wolf didn’t know someone—dead or alive—she knew of them. Gavin’s job would have been ten times more taxing if Nora hadn’t been around to help him.
“This drawer has a false bottom, but I can’t get at the little tab thingy.”
Nora’s eyebrow shot up. “Tab thingy?”
Gavin grunted. “Dammit, just come and look.”
Nora dropped her gaze and scurried toward him, her stare not going higher than the drawer on the desk. Fuck him sideways, now he wanted to kick his own ass. When he’d first arrived, she’d been meek as a mouse—not speaking unless spoken to and eyes practically glued to the floor. But as they’d worked together, she’d grown more comfortable with him, teasing him when he deserved it and even occasionally meeting his gaze. At least until he sounded the slightest bit gruff. Then she retreated into herself, hiding beneath that beaten shell for safety.
Gavin couldn’t blame her, but he hated that Brian Riverson—and his father before him—had traumatized the pack so deeply. He hated that his behavior pushed them back to that place even more.
“Oh, I see it.” Her breath caught, and she lifted her head slightly—just enough so he saw the excitement in her eyes.
Pinching the edge of the tab with her fingernails, she tugged gently until the bottom lifted free. Inside lay a large leather-bound record book covered with a thick layer of dust. Clearly Brian and Frank had been too busy mad-dogging to notice the drawer contained more than junk.
“What’s this?” Gavin carefully lifted the book. He held it at an angle and blew a puff of breath across the cover. Dust filled the air in a cloud of pa
le grey smoke and just like that, the sneeze that’d been taunting him exploded from his nose. Nora squeaked and jumped. Then she snickered into her hand.
Gavin simply grinned, relief over Nora bouncing back after his growling rushing through him as quickly as his sneeze. He’d already learned that commenting on her quick recovery didn’t lead anywhere good, so he refocused on the dusty journal they’d discovered. He placed it on the desk and flipped it open, the old cover releasing a slight creak as it moved.
The first page was filled with precise, blocky writing, almost as if every letter had been drawn with a stencil—not at all like the jagged, spikey letters he’d learned belonged to Brian Riverson.
“Whose handwriting is this?” He spun the book so Nora had a good view, watching as she flicked through a few pages and then released a mournful sigh.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she breathed. “That’s Alpha Fields’ handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere.” She thumbed past a few more sheets. “It doesn’t look as if Brian or Frank ever recorded anything.”
Fields had been the alpha before being viciously murdered and overthrown by Frank Riverson. The death of their alpha had shaken the pack to its core, but with nowhere else to go, they’d remained in place to suffer under the Riverson name.
Concern washed over Gavin and he shot Nora a look, doing his best to sort through the scents around him—to gauge her emotions. She’d witnessed everything Frank and his mate had done and then all the evils Brian had rained down on the pack. Normally the wrong tone alone sent her into emotional hiding, yet she still remained in place, her fierce determination humbling him.
Gavin grasped the book and carefully pulled it from her grip, catching her gaze with his own. “It’s obviously Alpha Fields’ registry. Are you okay to go through it for me?”
“Stop babying me,” Nora huffed and dropped into the chair across from him, crossing one thin leg over the other after she sat. “I’m old enough to be your mother.”
Gavin snorted. “Hardly. Maybe an aunt.”
That earned him a dark glare. “Make that older sister and you have a deal.”
Gavin laughed and shook his head. “Deal. Let’s do this.”
“Hang on.” Nora snared a yellow pad and pen from the desk and perched it on her lap. Then she gave him a pert nod. “Okay, shoot.”
“Oh, good idea.” He pulled his ratty Moleskine overflowing with chicken scratch notes from his back pocket and hunted for a blank page. Never hurt to double up just in case something happened to their original.
The book appeared to be part-journal, part-pack registry, the old alpha detailing additions, those who left and wolves that were expelled. Each entry was accompanied by a short paragraph describing the wolf in question, including physical traits, personality quirks, family members, and why they earned a spot in the book.
“He kept good notes,” Gavin mused. “Every entry is dated.”
Flipping forward, he found a list of current members on the last day of every year. He skipped ahead to the last list in the book and read the final journal entry, his gut clenching while a sense of foreboding flooded him.
Strange things happening lately. I’ve had to call the electric company three times because the alarms keep short circuiting and turning off. Jenny says I’m overreacting, but I think something else is going on here. Sentries are reporting new smells near our borders, as if another pack is nearby. Trying to keep Jenny calm, but I can’t deny I’m concerned.
It was dated three days before Frank Riverson had attacked.
Gritting his teeth to keep Nora from sensing his emotions, he turned the page and ran his finger over the names.
“Okay, how about we go over the last list of members, so we can get an idea of where everyone is now?”
“Sounds like a plan, boss.”
He flipped to a clean page in his notebook and wrote down the first name as he read it aloud. “Greg Johnson.”
“Died just after that registry was taken. Natural causes.”
“Julia Mables.”
“Found a mate in another pack and moved.”
“Dottie Mables.”
“Julia’s mother. Moved with her.”
“Erica Fitzsimmons. Oh, I recognize her name. She’s with Blackwood now.”
Nora nodded.
Gavin read a few more names and allowed the knot in his chest to loosen. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Half the names had either relocated to Blackwood or found other packs. Healthy now. Presumably happy, in spite of their pasts.
“Gina Walter,” he read, expecting to hear which pack she’d moved to.
Nora winced.
“What?” Gavin asked and then wanted to bite his tongue. He’d seen that look before.
She shook her head. “Gina is…dead. One of Brian’s first victims, after Alpha and Jenny Fields.”
Gavin pressed his lips together until they hurt and then jotted Deceased, killed by Brian Riverson in his notebook.
He took a deep breath and then read, “Sam Walter.”
“Sam was Gina’s mate,” Nora said quietly. “They were young, early twenties. Newly mated. Once they killed her, they killed him too.”
Nora swallowed hard. She was holding something back. Gavin remained silent, waiting for her to fill him in.
“I don’t want to upset you with these details, Gavin, but you should note them. For the trial.”
Gavin nodded. “It’s okay, Nora.”
“They didn’t just kill Gina. They raped her first. And they made Sam watch.”
Gavin’s jaw cracked, but he kept tight hold on his emotions for Nora’s sake as he scribbled in his notebook. “Okay.”
The next few names went by without incident, but he didn’t dare get his hopes up that the hard part was over. He’d heard enough about Brian to know the worst was yet to come. Sure enough, a handful of names later, more horror at the hands of the madman. And so, it went for far too long, the ebb and flow of tragedy and the people who’d survived, pausing only to regroup from the truly terrible cases.
Ones like Devon Lucas, who’d mouthed off to his new alpha and had been “taught a lesson”—chased through the forest until he was captured and torn to shreds. Or David Foster who had been murdered when he’d objected to one of Brian’s enforcers taking his teenage daughter as a mate against her will. Then the eventual death of the girl when she tried to run.
The hate in Gavin’s heart burned hotter with every detail Nora spat out, but he kept his composure. Or at least tried, until he reached the final name on the list.
“Eric Jasper Fields.”
Nora’s only response was silence. The air—already pungent with the scent of tension—turned briny and bitter with the smell of nerves, dread, and anxiety. Nora was on edge about this one. Taking yet another deep breath to control himself, he set down his pen and turned his full attention to her.
“What is it?”
She shook her head, but when no words came, he tried again in his most patient tone. “Tell me about Eric, Nora.”
Nora chewed her bottom lip and avoided his gaze.
“Nora,” he said a little more forcefully, allowing some dominance to leak past his strict control, despite not wanting to upset her.
Fear flashed in her eyes, which brought a fresh wave of shame to Gavin, but he needed to know what she hid about this Eric person. After a long moment of contemplation, and one very searching look from Nora, she took a deep breath and spoke.
“Eric was Alpha Fields’ newborn son.”
Was. Past tense. That brought the ugly feelings back into Gavin’s gut. Brian Riverson was an asshole, everyone agreed on that point, but was he so grotesque as to murder an infant?
“Is the pup dead?” Gavin asked, his voice thick with emotion.
Nora lifted her eyebrows nearly to her hair. Her ‘What the hell do you think?’ didn’t need to be said. “Eric was a half-breed pup. Alpha Fields mated with a human, and the baby couldn’t shift.”
&
nbsp; “So?”
Lots of mixed pups couldn’t shift right away, but they grew into it eventually. Nora rolled her eyes at him.
“So…do you really think Alpha Fields’ non-shifting, half-breed pup would be welcome in the new alpha’s pack house?”
A baby. What a miserable fucking excuse of a wolf. To murder an innocent baby… His wolf howled in rage and grief for the child he didn’t even know. Gavin swallowed hard and then carefully closed the journal.
“Thank you, Nora. I think now’s a good time to take a break.”
Hatred seethed in his heart, and he barely noticed Nora’s wariness when he strode past her and out the door. He ignored everything—the piles of garbage littering every corner of the pack house, as if some frat boys had held a rave the night before. Even though Brian had been arrested weeks earlier, they hadn’t gotten around to the mess. He stripped off his shirt and quickened his pace. By the time he pushed through the back door, his fangs had descended.
There was too much horrible shit in this small part of his world for him to keep it all together. He needed to run, to rage against the evil that was Brian Riverson, to dig his claws into the dirt until his head and heart no longer ached.
“Anders! Quinn!”
The sentries were stationed just inside the tree line, on either side of the pack house. The leaves softly rustled when they darted out and joined their leader.
“You should already be running,” he growled, his voice gravelly from the power of his wolf.
The men didn’t need to be told twice. Breaking into a sprint, they tore their clothes off as they raced and then shifted into their wolf forms. Black fur sprouted along Gavin’s spine, and his muscles twitched and contorted while his body lengthened. Once on all fours, he howled loud and proud, relieved to let his animal take control.