Alpha's Hunt

by Aimee Easterling

  “I’m fine,” I told my cousin. “It’s complicated.”

  “Isn’t it always.” That was Grace. My heart warmed...then froze as she added: “With you.”

  “Grace.” Bastion’s chiding was gentle. I could picture him raising both eyebrows while Grace rolled her eyes in answer. The warmth of their circle was like a fire drawing me in closer.

  And yet...Luke had disappeared into the cold of the forest. He had a pack, yet he trusted none of them.

  Except his sister. And me. He trusted me.

  I put the car back into drive, the hum of the engine grounding me in the moment. Performed a highly illegal U-turn right in the middle of the road.

  “Look, I’m about to lose reception,” I warned my family. “I’ll be here a while. Can you check my messages in case any pelt-related leads turn up?”

  Rather than answering, Justice, the lawyer, demanded facts. “Where’s here?”

  Bastion, the poet, was uncharacteristically unwilling to roll with uncertainty. “How long’s a while?”

  Whatever Grace had intended to interject—if she had intended to interject—was cut off by the car’s forward momentum. The skinless might be medieval, but I had a soft spot for more than one of them.

  I pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and sped off in the direction of Luke’s bloodthirsty pack.

  TWO HUMAN-FORM SHIFTERS were waiting for me when I pulled back off at the secluded turnout where Ruth had stashed her car previously. Neither was large enough to be Luke—I could see that from a distance. The taller one carried my sword.

  “Where’s Luke?” Ruth demanded as I turned off the engine. She ripped open the door, then angled her body to hide my pelt.

  Too late. Michael’s eyes had already widened. Had he understood what he was seeing? I could only hope not.

  I strove to relay none of the uncertainty I felt as I hid the pelt beneath my shirt and sent out a mental feeler in Luke’s direction. No waft of cinnamon erupted from my shoulder. No silent words vibrated inside me. I swallowed my combined relief and disappointment then spoke aloud. “He’s not here?”

  “No!” Michael stepped up to stand beside Ruth. His eyes were wide and his exclamation points even more palpable than usual when he added: “We thought he was with you!”

  Before I decided how to answer, a howl rose behind us. Soft and truncated. Something was happening, and with Luke missing we’d be the ones to handle the fallout.

  Which meant I needed information.

  “Who was shot?” I asked the siblings.

  They didn’t answer, just exchanged a loaded glance. Michael’s eyes slid to the bulge beneath my shirt—I was going to have to deal with his knowledge after all—then fell onto four paws and took off back in the direction the howl had come from.

  Meanwhile, Ruth dragged me out of the car, dispensing none of the information I’d requested while reiterating what I already knew. “You can’t shift in front of them, so I hope you can run two-legged.”

  She was gone so quickly I barely had breath enough to answer as I sprinted to catch up. “In front of whom?”

  Bastion would have been proud of my grammar. Ruth didn’t even notice. Instead, she picked up the pace yet further, deftly holding twigs out of the path so they wouldn’t slap me in the face. “Carl is here to collect Carly.”

  “Carl?” I panted.

  “Her betrothed,” she said, as if it should have been obvious.

  And maybe it was. Had Luke’s niece been named after her intended? The supposition made marrying off a fourteen-year-old that much more vile.

  Somewhere in front of us, a murmur of wolf yips cascaded through the autumn foliage. They were keeping the volume low in deference for nearby human habitations and possibly lone wolves also, but the intensity of the sounds sent chills up my arms. “He’s threatening Carly with a gun?”

  Ruth snorted. “Of course not. He’s her betrothed.” She vaulted over a log, never once losing her grip on the sword she was carrying. “Do I really have to spell this out for you? The gun shot was a power play. Giving Carly to him now—months sooner than we’d discussed—says we’re too weak as a pack to prevent encroachment. Refusing risks bringing the weight of Carl’s entire pack down upon our backs.”

  It was as if Carly wasn’t a human child, just a game piece. Fury rose inside me, as large as the rock arch rising above the trees in the near distance.

  We’d almost reached the pack, assuming they were still where Luke and I had left them. And I hadn’t managed to get a handle on the situation we were running toward.

  “Ruth, I need more information!” I called after my guide’s disappearing figure.

  And this time she turned to face me. Stood stock still and spat out an indictment that I knew in my bones was based on Luke’s chastisement of her when she’d first dragged me here yesterday.

  “All you need to know is that the pack obeys the alpha...and the sword maiden.” She dropped my sword, her impending shift filling the air with electricity. “Apparently, it’s your decision how you deal with Carl. Feel free to make up your own rules.”

  Chapter 18

  I stepped out of the trees to find a pack of wolves roiling around a fully clothed human. Meanwhile, my pelt had crept up my back until it cupped my neck. Perhaps that’s why the scent of gunpowder was so strong it stung my nose.

  While the sensory boost was helpful, I couldn’t risk my pelt being visible. So I reached behind me and pressed the fur down until it was hidden, using the wasted seconds to assess the scene.

  The air was full of barely restrained violence, but no one was actively in danger. Well no one except Luke’s niece, who stood far too close to the stranger I assumed to be Carl.

  Speaking of Carl, it was almost as if he felt my eyes on him. “And who are you?” he called as he swung around to return my gaze.

  Rather than answering immediately, I took the chance to look him over. The male wasn’t menacing Carly, even though he had a sword belted at his hip and a rifle in his hand. Black powder, I noted, as I took in the old-fashioned dealy-bobs at the top of the barrel. No wonder its blast had been loud enough to hear from miles away with the windows rolled up.

  “Who do you think I am?” I answered, pacing forward slowly enough so I had time to complete my assessment.

  The stranger’s age was as discordant as his choice of weapon. Carl was no more than eighteen, maybe just seventeen. Not a smelly old man snapping up a child bride, but a clean-cut, handsome specimen of blond manhood whose body language suggested he was here to woo rather than steal our pack’s youngest member.

  His words seemed to back up that assertion...until I took in the wolf-sharp undertones half hidden beneath. “I think you’re what Luke has been hunting.” His head cocked. “Either hunting or hiding. You weren’t easy to track down.”

  “We should have put out a welcome mat.” I turned as if assessing the trees for possible foyer locations. “Not sure exactly where it would look the best. Over there maybe?”

  As I’d hoped, Carl laughed. But the sound didn’t defuse tension. Instead, the wolves—Luke’s wolves—shifted from foot to foot around us, as if bracing themselves against a strong wind.

  Carl was here solo, yet he had our pack on tenterhooks. Disconcerting, but good to know.

  “I think I like you,” Carl observed while I was still filing away that information, “so I’ll warn you. I’m not the only one who pays lone wolves to gather intelligence about possible weaknesses of our neighbors. If you were hiding—just hypothetically, mind you—it would be in your best interest to have allies in other packs. Allies like me.”

  His last three words were the only sign of his youth. Carl wasn’t quite secure enough in his own strength to stop when he was ahead.

  The trouble being—he was ahead. He had a gun in his hand, a wild-eyed Carly beside him, and a pack, apparently, at his beck and call.

  No wonder none of the wolves around us were trying to rush him. Instead they swaye
d, gazes flitting back and forth between me and Carl as the latter continued talking. “My father, the alpha, would be very interested to hear where the Acosta pack is denning.”

  Yep, Carl held all the cards. But he was also skinless, which meant bluffing was a perfectly acceptable route to victory.

  So I didn’t respond to any of the young man’s jabs. Instead, I fired off one of my own. “We don’t allow guns in this pack,” I told him. “But I’ll let you keep yours if you don’t know how to use that sword.”

  CARL HAD NO REASON to give up the high ground—gun and words—in favor of my preferred weapon. No reason except the aggressiveness of his inner wolf.

  So...time to tease that wolf out of hiding. I raised my blade and took several steps forward, opening my stance to present a greater challenge. In the process, I ignored the fact I was also presenting a larger target for the gaping barrel that threatened instant death.

  Because it didn’t, not really. Black-powder rifles were slow, ungainly weapons, thus their official allowance in October during an early hunting season. Carl must have chosen black-powder to blend in with nearby humans. But the technology also worked in my favor. The barrel only held a single shot at a time—which Carl had used, judging by the explosion that alerted me and Luke to his presence. By the time he reloaded, the surrounding wolves would have him on the ground.

  “You really are afraid to use a weapon that requires skill, aren’t you?” I prodded, taking another step forward until a mere sword length separated us.

  Ah, there. My opponent’s eyes narrowed. Wolf fuzz rose almost imperceptibly on his cheeks.

  “Afraid?” Unlike Carl’s earlier wordsmithery, this was the splutter of a teenager. “Here, Carly, hold this.”

  He dropped his musket into the girl’s waiting arms, not bothering to glance down and make sure it would be caught as it plummeted. And Carly had more presence of mind than her wild eyes would have suggested. She sagged beneath the weight then backpedalled until she was lost in the midst of the encircling wolves.

  She was safe. If I wanted, I could have let Carl off the hook.

  But that wasn’t the way of the skinless. Werewolves were born for threats and posturing...and that’s what I needed to amp up if I didn’t want Carl to go home with a tale of pack rot. Or with a fourteen-year-old to warm his bed.

  Or perhaps Carl wouldn’t go home at all but would instead call in pack mates hovering just out of scent range. Was he plugged into a nonverbal network like the one Luke lacked, able to speak to underlings using only his mind?

  “He’s not alone but they’re not hovering.”

  Luke’s voice tingled warmth back into my bare feet. It had only been a few minutes since we’d last spoken, but I was well aware something had broken between us. Something...but not this.

  “Luke.” His name flowed like relief out of me. “Where are you?”

  “I got delayed by a couple of lone wolves, but I’ve found Carl’s trail. If you can handle things there, I want to check out his entourage....”

  Luke’s words went fuzzy then, but his trust in my leadership abilities made my lips quirk up. Unfortunately, Carl’s brows slammed down in answer. He thought I was laughing at him.

  Well, alright, I’d take that tack. “If I win,” I proclaimed, “you’ll ditch the gun and tell your men to stop skulking in the bushes.”

  “My men?” Carl’s sword rang as it cleared the scabbard and rose to a fencer’s en-garde position.

  “You don’t think Luke would miss something so obvious inside his territory?” I kept my own sword steady, waiting for an opening.

  For half a second, Carl appeared daunted. Not by my sword. By my knowledge.

  “I didn’t think Luke could use the pack bonds,” he admitted.

  First point to me. I grinned at my opponent. “Perhaps you’ve underestimated us.”

  Unfortunately, my taunt didn’t produce the desired reaction. Instead of backing down, Carl dropped into a crouch.

  “Perhaps you’ve underestimated me,” he said, crab-walking his way forward.

  “Perhaps,” I answered in my best imitation of a skinless growl. “Or perhaps not.”

  I didn’t wait for Carl to attack.

  Chapter 19

  Instead, I swung hard and fast, using gravity to pull my sword down toward Carl’s collarbone. Our blades rang together as he blocked me...barely.

  He staggered, and now I was thrusting at his unprotected belly. My sword slit through the fabric of his perfectly fitted sweater. From the excited yips behind me, I had to guess I’d drawn a trickle of blood.

  If my sword dug in a little deeper, Carl would have been incapacitated, perhaps fatally. But that wasn’t my intention. The cocksure kid was betrothed to Carly for a reason. Our pack needed allies. I’d best keep Carl alive so he could fill that position until we came up with more like-minded friends.

  So I twisted my blade sideways, cutting a ragged line through Carl’s clothing rather than his intestines. The sweater frayed further and Carl snarled.

  “You bitch.”

  He shed sophistication while rebounding faster than anticipated. His sword was lighter than mine, and faster. I was barely able to turn aside the resultant flurry of blows.

  Falling back, something hard and sharp cut into the arch of my bare foot, but I ignored the pain. I’d gambled on starting this battle, which meant I needed to pull out all the stops and win it. I parried then mimicked the exact same jolt I’d fallen prey to a moment earlier, only this time I let the pseudo-surprise drop me down onto one knee with a gasp.

  The leaves were muddy beneath me. No, that wasn’t just mud. There was blood also. From my cut foot and from the gnawed-upon elk carcass.

  Maybe also from Easton. I swallowed. Life among the skinless was brutal and fleeting.

  Meanwhile, Carl advanced one slow step after the other. “You should have waited for your alpha,” he told me. “Protecting the pack isn’t women’s work.”

  Behind me, four-legged skinless remained silent. Was Luke holding them in check the same way he’d spoken in my mind? Not likely. Instead, it seemed they simply weren’t invested in my survival.

  Well, one pack mate cared whether I woke up tomorrow. “Carl, don’t!” Carly skittered into my peripheral vision, one hand outstretched while the other cradled the rifle. Carl’s eyes flicked sideways to take in her presence...and I struck.

  Not with my sword. Instead, I let my body fall back onto one arm, leg lashing out to sweep ankles from under him. A second kick knocked his sword sideways so he wouldn’t skewer himself—or me—on its blade.

  My own weapon rose to slide across his jugular. Not cutting, just warning.

  “Now,” I told him, “would be a good time to give up.”

  CARL WAS GOING TO CAVE. I could see it in his eyes.

  If I’d been a skinless, my teeth would have sharpened. Even as a woelfin, I still smiled. I opened my mouth to lay out Carl’s options...then snapped my teeth shut as Ruth intervened.

  “If I may speak with you for a moment, sword maiden?”

  The last thing we needed was to give Carl time to regroup. But was it worse to appear to be at odds with each other?

  I gritted my teeth but nodded. “Of course.” Then, glancing down at Carl: “If you’ll excuse me....”

  I turned my back on him even though his sword was within arm’s reach. Turned my back and followed Ruth until we were far enough from the pack so we could be seen but, presumably, not heard.

  There, Ruth started speaking...although not to me. Instead, she directed her words at her absent brother, vocalizing even though I got the distinct impression he heard her through the pack bond.

  “I was willing to let your mate have her head, Luke. But if Carl can find us, other packs can find us. No more heel dragging. It’s time to sacrifice Carly for the sake of the pack.”

  “No.” Luke and I barked out our refusal at the exact same instant, his silent but mine louder than I’d meant to be.
/>   Carl, I knew, would have heard. Yet I couldn’t seem to care. Not when Luke’s willingness to stand up for his niece proved something important for the two of us.

  That burst of unity faded, however, in the face of Ruth’s discontent. “Then we’ll move the pack to Wolf Camp.” She spoke slowly as if barely restraining her temper. “It’s close enough to run to. More defensible in the event of an attack.”

  I could feel Luke’s head shaking. “It’s not time for a last stand. Wolf Camp is identifiably mine. Once we settle there, we’re starting the clock for having to deal with rival clans.”

  Ruth disagreed. “The clock started the moment the first lone wolf sighted us. A controlled retreat is better than a forced one. Without allies, we have to think defensively.”

  But were we really without allies? Carl had come to us, after all. “What if,” I interjected, “Carl sides with our pack not because of Carly but because he thinks we’re so strong he can’t afford not to?”

  I had both siblings’ attention. Now to see if the idea drifting through the edges of my mind sounded like crap when I spat it out.

  “If we present ourselves as powerful, Carl will see power. Rather than running away, we invite all of his henchmen to join us. Throw them a party.”

  Basically, my plan was a larger version of the sword fight I’d just won.

  “That could work.” Ruth started pacing, words flowing surer as her feet moved faster. “We can do both. The strongest of us can race Carl and his men to Wolf Camp while the weaker take the slow way around without losing face. We know the terrain. We can trounce Carl so badly he’ll be afraid to push for a premature mating. It will look like generosity when we leave the betrothal on the table to be consummated in the distant future.”

  “It will take time to change Carl’s mind,” Luke observed. “Time during which he’ll do his darnedest to pin us down to a promise about Carly.”

  “I no longer have standing in this pack, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Ruth’s eyes slid over me. “So the question is whether you and your sword maiden are up to that challenge.”