The Curse (Shifter Origins)

by Harper A. Brooks

  He glanced down and noticed that he was sitting in an unfamiliar bed, his fingers gripping a quilt around his waist that wasn’t his. His head was foggy, and his most recent memories were painted with blood. Jerrick and the ambush in the middle of the storm. The horrific sight of old friends being slaughtered and fed to the fires. He’d witnessed families being ripped apart right in front of him and then dragged into the woods.

  Had he been brought to Jerrick’s camp as a prisoner? His chest tight, he slid to the edge of the bed. He would have to make a run for it. If it was still nightfall, the darkness would cloak him enough to sneak past any men on guard and the snow would help cover his tracks. Ripping off the quilt, he paused. He was naked.

  Erec racked his memory again. He remembered shifting into his wolf form to help in the fight. He killed a few of Jerrick’s men, too, but the moment Erec saw Jerrick seize Mikel by the throat and snap his neck—the man who had accepted him into his pack as an orphaned child—he lost it. He leaped for Jerrick’s throat, teeth exposed, ready to rip out his jugular, but a colossal brown wolf rammed into him like a sledgehammer. He’d never forget Jerrick’s rumbling, mocking laughter as he slipped into the blackness.

  A fiery mixture of anger and pain swirled inside him, and he gritted his teeth. Part of it was toward Jerrick and the brown wolf’s cheap shot at him, but most of it was toward himself. He should have never run away as a child. If he’d ignored his fears and stayed, he might have been able to save the east pack during the attack. Mikel had offered him a home and a family when he had none, and what had he done in return? Thrown it back in his face. Rejected it, hurting the only man who had meant anything to him.

  After that, Erec couldn’t bear to face Mikel, and now he would never get the chance to again. Nine Blue Moons later and he was still a coward with the pack’s blood on his hands. He’d been sleeping in a cave nearby, debating on whether or not to return, like he had done so many times before, when he’d heard the screams and smelled the smoke. By the time he reached the camp, it was too late. Jerrick’s wolves were everywhere.

  So much blood. It had stained everything red.

  Erec ran his fingers through his hair and stood. His feet sank into the soft rug. This didn’t seem like a place where Jerrick’s men would sleep. It was too neat, the air inside too warm and inviting. The clothes, the tapestry, the white fur carpet—Jerrick and his men were cold, murderous fiends. None of this fit.

  He noticed a pair of trousers folded neatly on a bedside table. Strange… It was as if they were placed there just for him. Erec snatched them and tugged them on. They were loose around his waist, but if he pulled the drawstrings tight, they’d work. He took a good look at his bare torso and noticed the dark purple bruises marking his skin. A large white bandage also had been taped under his ribs. No way was he in the enemy’s camp. They’d rip him to shreds, not patch him up.

  At least you aren’t dead.

  True. Very true.

  Keep quiet and get out of here—wherever here is—alive. Slowly and with light feet, he crept across the tent to the entrance. The flaps were closed, completely blocking out any sight of the outside. He lifted his nose and sniffed again for any hints of nearby wolves or men, but only the flower and wolf smells greeted him.

  Heart pounding, Erec sucked in a deep breath and reached for the flap.

  “Filip!” A female voice rang from outside the tent, making Erec shift back a step. She must have been standing several feet away from him, but with his wolf still teetering close to the skin, he could hear her high-pitched tone as if she were standing just outside.

  “Father wasn’t too harsh on you, was he? I told him it was all my fault, that I’d snuck away and followed you. I told him bringing the man back here was my idea, but he doesn’t listen.”

  A defeated sigh rolled out. It must have belonged to whomever the woman spoke to.

  Then a male responded. “He didn’t tell me anything he hasn’t said before.”

  “He’s angry with you, isn’t he?” Her tone lowered to a sad whisper, and Erec could imagine her frowning. “I’m sorry…”

  “I think it’s best if you don’t leave the camp anymore. That means no more late-night runs, either, Ash. I’m serious. Jerrick is too close. It’s dangerous to be away from the protection of the pack.”

  There was a long pause. In the stillness, Erec mulled over all he was hearing. This Filip and Ash—who were brother and sister he guessed from their back and forth—also feared Jerrick’s power. Were they the ones who had found him and bandaged his wounds?

  “I mean it, Ash,” Filip pushed with an underlying growl.

  “I got it.”

  Erec could almost see the eye roll attached to her words.

  Filip’s tone hardened. “Listen this once. Don’t run off.” The crunch of heavy footsteps in the deep snow signaled his leave.

  Erec listened for a few breaths more but heard nothing else. Then, the tent’s flaps ripped open.

  Erec’s breath caught in his lungs. Staring directly at him was a pair of striking green eyes; their unique light color shined against the creaminess of her skin. A dusting of freckles kissed both her cheeks and nose, and even though her fur hood was up, a few reddish-brown curls peeked out from underneath. At first glance, she appeared as delicate as a moonlight blossom, but there was a glint of mischievousness behind her youthful gaze that made his heartbeat skip.

  Then, the sweet scent of lilacs filled his nostrils—her scent. His inner wolf licked its lips as the realization hit. This was her tent; he had been in her bed.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake,” she said. Her singsong tone matched the one Erec had been listening to just before. She tied back one of the tent flaps to keep it open and then pulled down her hood. A waterfall of auburn locks spilled over her shoulders and a coy smile lifted her lips. “Eavesdropping, were you?”

  Headstrong and beautiful? Any lingering unease drifted away the longer he looked into her eyes. Erec couldn’t help but smirk. “You must be Ash then?”

  “It’s Astrid.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up the small mounds of her breasts. “Only my brother calls me Ash.”

  She was studying him, her brows knitted together in mild annoyance and only a slight bit of interest. After a few moments, he forced himself to find another place for his gaze to rest on, but no matter where he looked, he found that every part of her was equally mesmerizing. She had to be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

  “So, Astrid—” He pronounced her name slowly, letting it roll off his tongue. “Where am I exactly?”

  She hesitated, probably debating how much she should reveal to him. “Boden’s pack, west of the river.”

  Erec’s stomach flipped. “Did you say Boden? As in, Boden the Warrior?” Mikel used to tell him stories of his neighbor and ally whose territory covered most of the land west of the river. Like Mikel’s, his pack was one of the oldest. “Boden brought me here?”

  “No, my brother and I did,” she replied. “We found you buried in the snow. Are you from Mikel’s pack?”

  Erec mulled over the explanation of his relation to the alpha in his head, not sure how to answer. “Not exactly…”

  “Then you’re one of Jerrick’s,” a booming voice called out.

  Erec looked up to find a man trudging through the snow toward them. The closer he got, the more he seemed to grow, towering over Erec with each step. Although gray streaked his wiry copper-colored hair and long beard with age, it did little to lessen the air of intimidation radiating from him.

  A vibrating power reached out to Erec’s wolf, commanding obedience.

  This had to be Boden.

  The moonlight reflected off the metal chainmail vest he wore over his round frame as he stepped in front of Astrid and stared down at Erec. “I’ll be damned if I let one of Jerrick’s dogs sniff around my pack and live.”

  Erec’s anger spiked at the insult. He’d rather die than be one of Jerrick’s puppets,
but he gritted his teeth and told himself to stay calm. He was a stranger in their territory, after all. The one who didn’t belong. Like always.

  “You have me confused with someone else,” Erec pushed out as meekly as he could manage. “Mikel was my…” Father. The word hovered on his tongue, surprising him. He shook his head and chose a different one. “He was my mentor, of sorts.”

  Erec glanced to the other canvas shelters surrounding the roaring fire pit. Men stood with their fingers wrapped around sword and axe hilts. Their mates and children poked their heads out of their warm tents to watch the commotion, all wearing looks of confusion and worry. There seemed to be over forty shifters in all, and that wasn’t including the other homes behind the ones closest to the fire. Boden’s pack was twice the size Mikel’s had been. Maybe even triple.

  “Father—” Astrid’s face poked out from behind one of Boden’s massive arms. “We found him unconscious in the snow. He—”

  Erec’s throat instantly went dry. He had been staring at Boden the Warrior’s daughter?

  “Enough, Astrid. You didn’t even think that you may have healed the enemy and brought him into our home?” Boden’s voice sounded as deep as thunder and as dangerous as lightning. “Go find your brother and stay with him while I deal with this.”

  She stepped around him. “I’m not a child, Father.”

  Boden ignored her and turned back to Erec. “What is your name? What pack do you belong to?”

  When his alpha wolf spirit pushed harder against Erec’s own wolf, demanding it submit, his animal only bared its teeth. “Erec.” He struggled to keep the challenge from his voice. “And I don’t have a home pack.”

  “None?” Boden’s bushy brows knitted together in suspicion. “You’re a rogue then.”

  Erec nodded. “When my parents died, Mikel took me in. Jerrick killed the only person who ever cared for me.”

  Recognition flashed across Boden’s hardened expression, and the deep lines at the edge of his eyes softened. “Mikel spoke very highly of an Erec who was orphaned young. Called him his son. It broke his heart when he left.”

  The familiar burning pain started in his chest, and he swallowed hard, hoping to extinguish it. Astrid stared at him with sympathy in her green eyes, her lips turned down in a weighted frown. He hated that look. He’d seen it so many times before as a boy.

  “That’s me,” Erec murmured.

  “Mikel was my friend. My ally,” the alpha replied. “He will be missed.”

  “Even though we don’t share the same blood, you are my son, Erec. I wouldn’t want anyone else to lead my pack when I’m gone.” Mikel’s words the night before he had run away echoed in his memory. “One day you’ll be able to see the greatness that I see in you.”

  He wasn’t Mikel’s son. He was no one, an orphan, and the worst choice for alpha. The old man had put too much faith in him. He didn’t want that responsibility, and his uncertainty and guilt had kept him away.

  Mikel might have been wrong about him, but he had loved his people. He gave his life to protect them. If he were still alive, what would he tell Erec now?

  Erec didn’t know the answer, but he did know what he had seen during the ambush. Death, devastation, absolute chaos. Blood stained the snow red, while ash floated down from the skies instead of flurries. No one deserved the heartache that came with losing their family. And that meant Jerrick needed to be stopped. He would destroy everything in his path to become the sole alpha of their kind, and the west-side pack had to be his next target.

  “You must have a plan to stop these attacks,” Erec blurted as his mind raced. With Boden’s pack numbers, there was a chance to defeat Jerrick. “I think his camp is just north of the valley.” His chest tightened as the bloody memories resurfaced, but he kept going. “I saw his men drag survivors that way during the attack. I want to help whatever way I can.” For Mikel. For his pack.

  “Of course he has a plan,” Astrid chimed in, peering up at her father. “There’ll only be more deaths if we don’t do something. Right, Father?”

  But Boden was quiet and still. His nostrils flared.

  “Right, Father?”

  “I need to protect my people.” He sighed. “Facing Jerrick means death. We will gather up our camp and move farther west. Keep moving so that he never knows where we are. Stay steps ahead of him.”

  Erec couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Boden the Warrior wanted to flee instead of fight?

  Anger twisted in his gut. No one could run from Jerrick, not forever. The monster wasn’t going to stop until every pack was under his command. Every day, Boden’s people would be waiting, panicked, for the possibility of an ambush, and when it finally did happen, it’d be too late. His pack would be wiped out just like Mikel’s had. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  Boden’s face tightened again. “I don’t consider the safety of my pack a joke,” he growled.

  “You don’t think he’ll find you?” Erec couldn’t help the rising of his voice. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable. Jerrick will never expect an attack from us. We’ll have the upper hand if we’re smart.”

  Boden stepped closer to him. The power of his wolf sparked in the small space between them, warning Erec to stay in his place. “It is my duty to do what’s right for my pack. Any friend of Mikel’s is welcome here, but that means you follow my rules.”

  Boden turned around and faced those in his pack who had come out to watch the exchange. “Load up your things. Discard anything you can’t carry. We travel at dawn and will start again farther west.”

  Without hesitation, the men, women, and children went back into their tents to gather their belongings for the long journey.

  “You can’t,” Astrid cried beside him, her gaze shifting from the homes to her father and back again. Her eyes were wide with shock. “We just got settled here.”

  “A small price to pay to keep everyone safe.”

  Erec’s fury peaked, and his skin prickled with heat as the power of the shift slingshot through him. He didn’t know whom Mikel had spoken of in his tales, but this couldn’t have been the same man. Boden wasn’t anything but a coward in wolf’s clothing.

  “I have heard the stories about you,” he began, turning back to Boden. “The bravery, the power, the cunningness. That was Boden the Warrior. I don’t recall any mentioning of turning away or fleeing when faced with a challenge.”

  Boden’s thin lip curled up, and his breath spilled out of his mouth in a steamy cloud against the cold air. “If you want to question my leadership, then leave.” Locking his black eyes with Erec’s, he pointed one meaty finger toward the dark forest and spit his last word.

  Glancing once more at Astrid, who was looking at him helplessly, Erec spun and marched into the woods, knowing that if he didn’t go, he’d do something he would later regret.

  Chapter Three

  Thick white flakes drifted from the sky as Astrid walked deeper into the forest, following Erec’s footprints. She focused on his shadowy outline far off in the distance. Every once in a while, it would disappear in the shadows only to rematerialize moments later in the silvery light of the crescent moon.

  It probably wasn’t her smartest idea to track him down alone, but at least she had been able to snatch one of her spears for protection. Erec had said something back there that resounded with her. He wanted to help their pack however he could, even if that meant striking Jerrick first. He wanted to fight, not sit around and wait to die.

  And so did she.

  She didn’t understand why Father had been so harsh with him. Or why he had refused to listen to his warnings. Erec had fought Jerrick’s men before. He knew what they were capable of, what to expect. And that’s why she had to follow him and bring him back to their camp. Maybe with her help, they could help her father see reason. Traveling farther west wasn’t going to protect them from Jerrick. If they ran, he would win.

  A bitter gust of wind pushed against her and Astrid pulled up her
hood, her gaze locked on Erec’s silhouetted figure gliding farther away. She’d been following him for at least a mile now. Because the pack had been so busy deconstructing their homes and loading the sleds, no one had seen her leave. Eventually someone would stumble across her empty tent and bed, so she had to make this quick.

  Astrid picked up her pace. The soft and thick piles of snow under her boots muted the crunching of her steps. Every gulp of winter air froze her insides, icing her lungs and making her chest hurt.

  Erec took a sharp turn ahead, behind the trunk of a wide oak tree, and disappeared from sight. Astrid sprinted toward him, her heart drumming against her ribcage, but as she rounded the tree, she stopped short, her feet sinking into the snow. Erec had vanished. Only a rocky cliff stared back at her with a cave opening just big enough for a person to squeeze into.

  Erec’s footprints continued to the cave’s entrance before disappearing. Astrid approached and peered into the blackness. No shadows moved. She swung her head to the side, listening for any sounds. She heard the steady flow of the river in the distance, paired with the whistles of the icy breeze, but nothing else. When she inhaled, the alluring aroma of the forest filled her nose. Crisp pine needles, damp moss, and smoky cedar. They were so overwhelming, she almost missed the distinctive scent of man and wolf layered underneath.

  “Erec,” she whispered to the nothingness, but only the echo of her own voice replied. “Erec, are you in there?”

  A sharp crack came from above, and her head snapped up. She gasped. At the peak of the cliff, just over where she stood, Erec was staring down with his arms crossed. This time, he wore a gray fur cape draped across his shoulders, a linen shirt, and high leather boots on his feet. Had he gotten them from the cave?

  “I had a feeling someone was following me,” he said with the same cool indifference he had when Astrid had caught him listening in on her and Filip’s conversation. It should have irritated her, but his tone, paired with the way his dark blue eyes studied her under hooded lids, made goose bumps rise on her skin.