Mating Games

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Mating Games Page 2

by Nikki Jefford


  “Hey, it’s a hollow, not utopia.”

  Chase gave Jordan a playful pat on the back, cheeks dimpling when he laughed. “Hurry back, Jord.”

  “As fast as I can,” she said, legs back in motion.

  The sooner she got to the den, the sooner she could wolf down dinner and get back to her friends.

  She’d nearly cleared the glade when Hudson’s sister, Taryn, stepped in her path and folded her arms across her chest. Her faded orange-and-yellow sundress was frayed at the hem. The last supply run had been scrapped after a group of renegade humans fired weapons at the pack members who had gone into the suburbs, which meant no new replacement clothing. Jordan’s jeans were holding up a lot better than Taryn’s threadbare dress.

  Lips curling in distaste, Taryn looked Jordan up and down. Her scowl brought out a hardness over her face, like bark covering a tree.

  “Yes?” Jordan demanded.

  The up-close death glare looked even nastier inches from Jordan’s face. Taryn’s shoulders shook the slightest bit, her eye twitched, and color filled her face. “My brother’s not enough for you? Now you have to go after Chase, as well?” she snarled.

  Jordan shook her head. If the shifter wanted to win Chase back, she was going about it all wrong. “I don’t have time for this,” she said, sidestepping the bitter she-wolf.

  “You have no shame.” Taryn snarled at Jordan’s back.

  Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Jordan thought as she approached the wooded path.

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Taryn called out.

  Jordan came to an abrupt stop and spun around. Outrage flared through her nostrils, and her eye sockets stretched in her hot face.

  “I am nothing like my father,” Jordan growled, balling her fingers into fists. She inhaled sharply and forced herself to relax. Her shoulders dropped, and her fingers uncurled. Growing up with three sisters had taught her many lessons, one of which was to never take the bait. The only way to come out ahead of a snarly she-wolf was to claim the high ground.

  Jordan lifted her nose and pierced Taryn with a calm gaze. “Your brother’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. As for Chase… Instead of sulking, maybe you should take it up with him, or move on.”

  Taryn’s face turned splotchy, but she didn’t say anything more. Jordan counted to five slowly in her head, staring Taryn down in silent challenge. When it was clear that Taryn had nothing more to spout, Jordan turned on her heel.

  Leaving the clearing behind, along with the banter and delicious smells, she followed the path through the woods and along the Sakhir River, heading for the den.

  Taryn was merely a warm-up. Now she had to deal with Francine.

  chapter two

  With his muscles straining against his faded shirt, Raider stalked toward the glade. The birds had gone silent in the trees on either side of the path, replaced by the occasional hoot of an owl.

  Nearly full, the moon swelled at dusk like a turnip in the dark soil of the hollow’s garden, ripe for the picking.

  One more day until Jager assigned new partners and territories.

  One more day patrolling alone.

  Every time Raider thought about his previous partner, Kallie, it hit him like a kick in the nuts. He avoided the den so he wouldn’t have to see her limping around, reminding him of what happened and how he’d failed her.

  They’d been intent on tracking a pair of deer that had wandered into a trench filled with clovers, where they’d lowered their necks, pausing to gorge on the plentiful herbs. Raider could still see it all clearly in his mind, as though it had happened that afternoon.

  Hunt. Attack. Kill. His thoughts had been on repeat, and he’d been as focused on his prize as the deer had been on the greens at their hooves. There was no room for anything else inside Raider’s mind. Never for a moment would he have believed that there were other hunters nearby. He was at the top of the food chain, ready to pounce, when Kallie yelped.

  Her cry was followed by the hideous screech of a vulhena that sent the deer bounding away.

  Before Raider could make it to his partner, a second vulhena jumped from the brush like a giant black, hairy spider on four legs and attacked him. While Raider fought the creature, Kallie shifted into human form and began screaming.

  Vulhena didn’t usually wander that deep into wolf territory, nor was it typical for them to gang up, but they appeared to be adapting. The creatures were unnatural—a type of new world mutation—that were shaped like cougars, black and hairy like tarantulas, and screeched like birds of prey. The elders believed they’d originated from the cat family and mutated after gorging on diseased human corpses.

  It was the second time within the space of a month that they’d ventured into Wolf Hollow.

  By the time Raider killed his attacker and got to Kallie, the damage was already done. The vulhena had chewed apart Kallie’s leg.

  It would have eaten her alive if Raider hadn’t ripped open its throat, but her limp was a permanent reminder that although he’d saved her, he’d still been too late.

  With his bare foot, Raider kicked a pebble off the path and with it the memory that nipped at him like a pesky flea. As he approached the glade’s small communal clearing, he lifted his shoulders, his stride turning into a strut that communicated confidence. Dominance. He knew most of the pack found him intimidating. Good. He didn’t want to make himself approachable because the strongest shifters in the pack had a duty to keep the hollow safe, not pal around.

  Raider didn’t have friends. He had responsibilities.

  Three female shifters huddled, heads bent together as they communicated in giggles and whispers where the path met the glade.

  Before Raider could pass the females, a growl erupted from the trees beside them. The females screamed as two male figures jumped out.

  Heart pounding madly in his throat, Raider rushed forward and grabbed one of the males by the neck, cutting off his grating laugh. The second male’s eyes bulged when he saw the large hands on his friend.

  One of the females, Rosalie, planted her hands on her hips and scowled. “Wiley. Justin. You filthy mongrels. Stop trying to scare us.” She glanced at Raider with a smug smile. “Unless you want to get yourselves killed.”

  Raider released Justin and shoved him away with a disgusted snarl. “I suggest you listen to Rosalie.”

  Wiley’s lower lip puffed out. Rosalie giggled.

  “We were just playing around,” Wiley said.

  Straightening to his full height, Raider glared down at him. “Pups play around. Adults serve and protect.”

  When Raider leaned in and locked eyes on Wiley, the shifter nodded, too cowed to lift his head.

  Raider shot Wiley and Justin one last glower then resumed his march to the glade. Before he had gone five feet Wiley huffed, “All brawn and no brain.”

  “Hey, I don’t mind all brawn,” Rosalie said with a tinkling laugh.

  No brain, huh? Did they think his eardrums didn’t work either?

  Perhaps they didn’t lower their voices because they all knew he wouldn’t go out of his way to fight. He never hesitated to kill for food or protection, but he had no interest in brawling with other packmates. As a council member, he had to set an example, and giving in to anger was the greatest form of weakness.

  Stepping back into his brisk stride, he skirted the glade until he reached another, narrower path.

  Smoke wafted down the trail and thickened as Raider neared Jager’s hut. Outside the elder’s modest dwelling, a small fire burned inside a rock-lined pit. Seven tree stumps were arranged in a circle around the fire for a quick council gathering before that evening’s claiming ceremony.

  Everyone besides Sasha was already there, including Garrick, who stood to the side with his bare chest puffed up. Like Raider, he was a large, muscular man, but his bulk didn’t in
clude height.

  “Son,” he said, lifting his chin at Raider.

  Raider folded his arms over his chest. “The pack will never allow you back on the council.”

  “I’m here to listen; no laws against that.” Garrick frowned.

  “Just remember, listening means no talking,” Raider said.

  “He shouldn’t be here at all,” Heidi snarled from across the firepit. She was one of their new members, a mated shifter from the den with shoulder-length black hair and the domineering tone of a mother well used to keeping her two young pups in line.

  Emerson, Palmer’s oldest daughter, stood near the fire, and her eyes lit up when she saw Raider. She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and puckered her lips into a sultry smile—one he didn’t return.

  “At least here, we can keep an eye on him,” Raider said, hoping to get the meeting going so Sasha wouldn’t be tempted to maim Garrick when she arrived and saw him eavesdropping.

  A flash of brown hair caught his eye as Sasha rushed in and reached his side. Her entrance was so stealthy, he hadn’t heard her sneaking up from behind. Although his heart gave a sickening lurch of alarm, Raider held his ground, and no one was the wiser.

  “Oh, trust me, I’ve got both eyes on Garrick—we all do.” Sasha’s upper lip curled when she looked at the shifter in question.

  Garrick’s eyes narrowed, but for once he kept his trap shut—a wise decision, when a healthy majority of the pack would have chased him out of the hollow forever.

  “Good, we’re all here,” Jager said, limping from the doorway of his hut to the fire. He took a seat first, and the others stepped forward to join him.

  Before Sasha could take her usual seat beside Raider, Emerson flew forward and claimed the spot. Sasha frowned at being outmaneuvered then glanced at Raider and shrugged as if to say, I tried.

  Clearing his throat, Jager looked around the circle, taking time to make eye contact with all present. “I now call council in session and welcome our three newest members to their first official meeting,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Our first order of business—”

  “First order of business is whether she has control of her half-breed wizard,” Garrick bellowed, thrusting a thick finger in Sasha’s direction.

  So much for wise decisions. Raider shook his head.

  Sasha snarled.

  Raider’s muscles tightened, readying his body to leap to action if Garrick and Sasha went at each other. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to come between them.

  Jager growled with impatience. “We already settled this matter, not to mention you’re no longer on council, Garrick.”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, I’ll go, but the rest of you would be wise to ask these questions.” Garrick shot his nephew, Ford, a pointed look.

  Jager clapped his hands together. “Let’s move on to today’s order of business. Wolfrik.” All eyes turned to the old man. He lowered his voice. “He needs to be reintegrated into the pack. I thought serving on council might do the trick, but now I realize that what he really needs is a mate.”

  Sasha folded her arms across her chest. “What Wolfrik needs is to be left alone. The reason he took off the first time is because the council kept telling him how to live his life.”

  “With our numbers down, the hollow is vulnerable,” Jager said.

  “Who do you have in mind for him?” Raider asked. Might as well cut to the chase. The elders usually had a plan already in place.

  “Hailey of the Glenn Meadows shifters,” Jager announced. Casting a sideways glance at Sasha, he added, “Hector’s sister.”

  Sasha laughed harshly. “I’m fairly certain we managed to scare off the whole clan with our primitive ways.” A wolfish gleam came over Sasha’s eyes as though delighting in the memory of Hector and his cousin, Alexa, cutting their visit short after a rabid wolf wandered in.

  Jager’s back stiffened. “Hector and Alexa don’t represent all of Glenn Meadows, and their pack can ill afford such arrogance. We’ve heard the rumors; too much inbreeding is catching up to them. Infertility and child mortality are as big a threat as vulhena. It is something all packs must face. We’ve waited too long to make matches between our two tribes. Wolfrik and Hailey represent our last chance at a pureblooded union. If they don’t unite, the bloodline dies out for both packs.”

  No one spoke. Even Sasha kept her biting remarks to herself as Jager’s words sank in.

  Losing the bloodline completely would be tragic. A pureblood’s senses were keener than any other wolf. They came from a long line of wolf shifters born in the wild, unlike their urban shifter counterparts. Raider’s parents had been born in the cities right before the fall of human civilization. Luckily, purebloods had taken them in and helped them adapt and survive in a post-apocalyptic world.

  “Garrick has offered to go to Glenn Meadows and speak with their elders,” Jager said.

  “He should join their pack while he’s at it,” Sasha muttered beneath her breath.

  Jager cleared his throat. “Once he has their blessings, he will escort Hailey back to Wolf Hollow to meet Wolfrik. In the meantime, I’m asking everyone to help ease Wolfrik back into a routine. We need him on his best behavior when Hailey visits.” Jager stared at Raider pointedly. “If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.”

  His fists tightened on reflex as the grim truth hovered above their heads, unspoken. Raider had about as much chance of taming a grizzly. Some animals were better left alone, and Wolfrik, bitter from abuse, wasn’t fit for any female.

  “If you want, I can talk to him with you,” Emerson said.

  “I’ll talk to him alone,” Raider answered gruffly.

  Emerson shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  “If you want me don’t hesitate to howl.” She winked.

  “Very nice of you to offer,” Jager said, pretending not to catch on to her double entendre. The old man looked at Sasha and Heidi. “It might help prepare Wolfrik for courtship if he was shown some friendliness from our female shifters.”

  Heidi stiffened. “If I see him, I will say ‘hi,’ but he’s not welcome in the den until he proves that he can behave like a responsible pack member.”

  Jager frowned. “We can’t restrict pack members from certain parts of the hollow.”

  “Wolfrik has no business in the den,” Heidi said, sitting up tall. “He needs to stay out, or our males will see to it that he does. The council has a duty to protect the families in the den.”

  Raider’s stomach clenched. Not only the families, but Kallie. “I agree with Heidi,” he said.

  “Wolfrik would never hurt a member of the pack,” Sasha said, baring her teeth.

  “Palmer, what do you think?” Jager asked.

  Throughout the meeting, Palmer had not demonstrated his usually arrogant, opinionated self. Faint shadows formed half circles beneath his eyes. Between his first mate, newborn, and pregnant second mate, Raider wondered how he managed to remain awake at all. The knucklehead only had himself to blame after going behind the council’s back and impregnating two females.

  Palmer blinked several times before answering, “We must keep the den safe even if that means protecting it from one of our own.”

  Heidi nodded and flashed Palmer a small smile of appreciation.

  “Let’s put it to the vote, then,” Jager said. “The motion has been put forward that Wolfrik be prohibited from the den until such a time as he, himself, is mated or has demonstrated his dependability. All in favor, say ‘yea.’”

  Palmer, Heidi, and Raider announced their “yeas,” while Sasha and Ford said “nay.”

  Jager cleared his throat. “I’m voting nay, which brings our vote to a tie. That leaves Emerson to cast the deciding vote.”

  Tossing aside the hair she’d been stroking, Emerson looked around the ci
rcle, suddenly all business.

  “I vote the way Raider voted.”

  Her saccharine tone caused Raider’s skin to prickle with irritation.

  “Council doesn’t work that way,” Sasha snapped.

  Emerson leaned back on her stump, causing the hem of her already-short sundress to drag up her long, lean legs.

  Unfazed by Sasha’s reprimand, Emerson flashed the group a carefree smile. “As a sworn member of council, I can vote any way I choose,” she replied. With a conspiratorial smile at Raider, she added, “I say ‘yea.’”

  “Emerson is right,” Jager said, casting a warning glance in Sasha’s direction. He placed his palms on his thighs and sat up. “The council has decided. Wolfrik is prohibited from the den… for now.”

  Arms folded, Sasha cast a stony-eyed stare at Raider from across the circle. “Perhaps you should be the one to deliver this news to Wolfrik, since you won your vote. I’m sure it will make him feel right back at home in the hollow.”

  Raider pursed his lips. Sasha had a spitfire way with words, but he didn’t regret his decision. The good of the many had to be placed above the good of one—even a pureblood. Sasha knew better than anyone that Wolfrik had returned to them unstable.

  “I will tell him,” he said simply.

  At the meeting’s conclusion, Sasha shot up and stormed away. Ford was the next to leave while Heidi lingered behind to thank the council for respecting the safety of the den before heading in the direction of her home. Palmer wasn’t far behind her, stumbling then catching himself as he got off his stump with a loud yawn.

  The moment Raider got to his feet, Emerson did the same. “I like being on council,” she said cheerfully. Inching up to Raider, she placed a hand on his arm and added, “especially with you.”

  Jager chose that moment to disappear inside his hut, leaving Raider stranded with Emerson.

  She had an inviting smile, both friendly and sensual, and stunning blue eyes. Half the male shifters would walk through flames to have her, but Emerson had always reminded Raider more of a feline toying with her prey than a wolf after a mate.

 

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