Are your alphas prepared to do that? I asked. The Wulfric pack was enormous – hundreds of shifters spread across Germany and Eastern Europe. They had an extremely sophisticated hierarchy system – with the entire pack split into smaller bands, each ruled as an independent entity by an alpha who claimed a seat on a pack council. It was this council who decided major issues and dispensed justice within the pack. The Wulfrics were evidence that shifter society could benefit from structure and laws and regulations, and it was one of the key reasons Caleb was so keen to have them on board. Unfortunately, since the Wulfrics had earned their vast fortune through largely illegal means, they would need to make some serious changes or they’d become a target for human opposition.
Rolf grinned, showing a row of sharp teeth. The Council have all sorts of plans. With shifters in the limelight, there’s more money to be had by legitimate means. The rich will pay a pretty penny to employ our wolves as bodyguards, and that’s just the beginning.
Despite myself, I felt a grin tugging at the corners of my own mouth. This was almost too easy. If we had the Wulfrics behind us, other influential packs would soon follow. This thing could actually happen. I could actually keep my promise.
So we have an accord?
Not quite yet.
Damn, I ken it was too easy.
We’re behind you, and we’re prepared to back you with as many wolves as you need when you make your assault on your Parliament. Rolf’s eyes glinted. I must admit, I am excited at the prospect of storming the House of Lords.
Trust a German to get excited about storming the fortress.
But? I pushed him.
But the alphas want to make sure our interests are represented. If we scratch behind your ears, you have to scratch ours.
What exactly did you have in mind?
It is simple. If we help you, you in turn will help us negotiate with the German government. And possibly the European Union. We can’t have you getting distracted with what’s going on here in England. You need to commit the wolf power to our cause, or we won’t commit to yours.
Caleb and I had predicted this. As the respective alphas of our packs, it was exactly the demand we both would have made. I gave Rolf our prepared answer. Provided our power is secure in England, we will commit a force of two hundred shifters from across the Lowe pack and their allies, including the Bairds.
We didn’t actually have two hundred allies yet, but Rolf didn’t need to know that. Besides, if we had the Wulfrics on board, I ken at least two other packs that would sign on.
That’s good, but it's not enough. We want to use the ring.
Shite. I hadn’t expected that. The Benedict Ring, which we also didn’t have yet, possessed untold power. We ken very little about it except that it had been used for hundreds of years to persuade governments and people in power to alter the course of history. Until we found it, we wouldn’t understand what it could do, or how it could help us. I didn’t ken if we should be handing out the ring for everyone to wield, especially not a pack that was several times our size.
And by that, Rolf added, I mean the real ring, not that fake one Caleb’s been flashing around.
Double shite. Caleb wore a fake copy of the ring around his neck, and he’d spread the word that we had the ancient power behind us. Caleb’s mother and I were the only people outside Caleb’s pack who ken it wasn’t real.
How did you—
Easy. I followed Robbie to the library the first day I got here. He was looking up old records, and I figured out what he was looking for. I thought to myself, now why would the Lowes still be looking for the ring if they already had it in their possession? Rolf gave me a smug look, kenning he’d pulled out a trump card. If we backed out of the deal, he could tell any of the other packs the ring was fake, and the whole thing would be over.
I cannae agree to let you use the ring. I dinnae have that authority. I’d have to speak to Caleb.
You do that. Our agreement is contingent upon being able to wield the ring. And I want a title.
Aye?
A title, he repeated. You know, some kind of official government thing. I’d like to be a Lord. Or a Duke. The Duke of Wulfric has a nice ring to it.
I dinnae ken if you can be a Lord without actually being English.
Rules are made to be broken, Baird. Rolf bared his teeth even wider.
I barked. Rolf was crazy, but he’d make an excellent ally. We touched our paws to each other, sealing our terms.
Once I get Caleb’s answer, it will take us a few days to iron out the agreement, I responded. Will you remain in Crookshollow?
I’m planning to stay indefinitely, Rolf replied. My pack wants me to remain here to ensure our needs are represented. I’ll be working directly with you on all matters concerning the big reveal. Since Caleb has said I’ll be staying at The Prim, I’ll begin by helping that moronic halfwit you have in charge of locating the Benedict Ring.
Dinnae speak about Robbie like that, I growled.
Rolf continued as though he hadn’t heard me. Did you see the latest news? That crazy Werewolf Watch lady is doing another article on the Daily Post about Robbie’s idiotic stunt at the wedding. Rolf shook his head. That guy is a complete fool. He nearly destroyed our chance to do this thing right.
I tried not to think of anything loud enough for Rolf to hear. Secretly, I agreed with him. Robbie didn’t seem to be the ideal choice for the task of locating the ring. Both he and his brothers had a similar upbringing to me, which meant he wouldn’t have had much, if any, schooling.
But Caleb had given Robbie the job. The Lowes were my allies and I couldn’t badmouth another alpha’s choices, especially not in front of such a vital ally. That wasn’t the way to create a new world for all shifters. Some things were more important than what I thought of some of Caleb’s decisions.
Besides, the lady who ran the Werewolf Watch site was nuts. No one took her seriously, even if she did stumble upon the truth on occasion.
Rolf grinned again. Fine, don’t engage. Your silence confirms your agreement. Robbie is an idiot. I don’t know how he ended up mated to that firebomb, Bianca.
Wow, Rolf had got that wrong. They’re nae mated. Their marriage is fake. Some old relative of Bianca’s died and left her The Prim on the condition she married a man, and Robbie volunteered.
Open your eyes, Baird. For a fake marriage, they sure did take their wedding night seriously. You’re not the only one around here getting your piece of tail.
Interesting. Rolf seemed to be saying that Bianca and Robbie were together. Good. Robbie had wanted Bianca for so long, and it was hard to watch your mate shag her way through Crookshollow, oblivious to your connection.
I ken a little of what that felt like.
Shit, there went my mind, straight back to the night of the wedding. Willow’s lips pressed against mine, dark curls spilling over her shoulders. Her hands clutching the back of my head, her eyes begging for more—
Nice. Rolf’s voice thundered through my ears, destroying the image. She’s damn fine.
Stay out of my head, I growled.
Make me, Baird.
Rolf and I parted ways, agreeing to meet the following night after I’d discussed his terms with Caleb. He headed back toward his car, and I circled back through the forest toward my cabin, a whirlwind of thoughts churning in my head.
Overrunning the House of Lords. Backing up the Wulfrics in the German government. Petitioning the EU. Press conferences. Campaigning for shifter rights … the gravity of what we were attempting weighed heavily on me. For the past five years, I’d been caught up in the idea of a better future for shifters. But now that it was actually upon us, I hadn’t given much thought to what it would take to build that future. We were so close, but there was so much work left to do, and only a few of us had the vision to see this through.
The fact that the Wulfrics were willing to give up their entire operation to make this happen showed me how vital our goal was – not just fo
r me, not just because of my own selfish reasons, but for every shifter. Every one of us had a story like mine; a reason why going public about our existence would bring us new opportunities, and save the lives of countless shifters and humans.
As my paws padded against the soft earth, my father’s face flashed in front of my eyes – his fur matted with blood, one paw dangling in the air. His eyes, usually narrowed with malice, were wide and glassy as he stared unseeing at the cold moon.
The vision changed, and now it wasn’t my father, but Willow who stared up at me with those cold, glassy eyes. Her body lay in the dirt, twisted at a horrible angle. A deep slash from an animal’s claw marred her beautiful face.
As long as shifters live in secret, I am putting Willow in danger.
Something she said at the wedding came back to me. “I’m not going to reveal your secret. I know more than anyone how important it is that you wolves stay hidden.” I didn’t understand why she thought that. Surely she’d want the world to ken the injustice that had been done to her?
But I didn’t ken, because I didn’t ken Willow. She was still a mystery. A delicious, beautiful, wonderful mystery.
Now that I’d found Willow, I wanted nothing more than to drop everything and go to her. I wanted to spend a week in bed with her, learning every inch of her gorgeous body. I wanted to ken her mind, to hold her heart, to ravish her body until she begged for more.
But if I did that, I’d be giving up on what we were doing here. I’d be turning my back on my pack, on Caleb and his pack, on every shifter across the world who’d been forced to become the monster. We were so close, but I had to give everything I had if we were going to make this happen.
But I couldn’t. Not when my mind was on those sweet lips and that gorgeous ass.
Here I was, talking shite about Robbie being a liability, when I was the biggest liability of all.
Even today, when I was with Rolf, my mind wasn’t on the game. I’d slipped so bad that he’d seen Willow in my mind. What if he wasn’t an ally? What if he was one of the shifters opposing the reveal? My distraction would not only jeopardise the entire operation, it would put Willow in danger.
I can’t afford any distractions. The shifters have to be more important.
It was the right thing to do.
Now I just had to get Willow Summers out of my head.
5
Willow
“—if you won’t tell me where you are, I’m going to hire a private investigator,” Mum said triumphantly into my ear. “I saw one on a TV show last night. She’d triangulate your location from your mobile phone, and then drag you back to me by your hair.”
I cradled my mobile in the crook of my shoulder as I rolled the liner and sock onto my limb, then slid it into the socket. “What show was this?”
“It’s called Jessica Jones. She is a very vulgar young woman, but she gets the job done.”
“Jessica Jones? You mean, the comic superhero?” I rubbed lotion around my knee at the top of the liner, then rolled the sleeve attached to the socket up over the liner to create a good seal. The vacuum held my prosthesis in place and stopped the socket rotating or shearing against my residual limb. “Did she also lift a car over her head?”
“She did. I was impressed with her upper body strength.”
I resisted the urge to burst out laughing. “That’s fine, Mum. You call your buddy Jessica and see if she can find me.” I hung up the phone, and tossed it onto the bed. I wondered if I’d have to throw it away, in case she really did find some non-fictional PI to track me down.
I rolled a pair of merino socks over both feet, and stretched them out in front of me. I almost couldn’t tell that one wasn’t real.
I wiggled the toes on my left foot. My right foot remained as still and dead as a rock. I sighed, and slipped on a pair of wide-legged cotton trousers. It was hot outside, but I didn’t own anything that was hemmed above my ankles. No way was I going to risk anyone noticing my prosthesis.
I stood up, and gave my hips a little shimmy. Bianca left behind a full-length mirror at the end of the bed (knowing her, I could imagine the significance of its placement), and I stood in front of it, smoothing down the matching blazer over the front of my trousers. My brown curls spilled over my shoulders. I smiled at myself as I fastened the blazer’s single button. I looked so different.
This suit had come from one of my secret shopping trips in London, just before I left. The pale green would’ve looked all wrong with my blonde hair, but now that I was a brunette, it deepened the colour of my eyes and made my skin appear to glow. The lapels were cut low, plunging down my front and drawing attention to the tiny peek of cleavage I dared to reveal. I’d never worn anything like it before, but it felt like a powerful symbol, a rite of passage. Underneath, I was sporting my first ever black bra and my brand-new tattoo.
So this is independence.
I like it.
I imagined Irvine standing behind me, his huge frame towering over me as he reached down, sliding his hands along my collarbone before slipping under my bra. An ache welled inside me. I rubbed the side of my neck, as though the heat of his lips really did burn my skin. What would it be like to stand here while he undressed me, watching my layers of clothing fall away, seeing his hands as they explored every part of me—
No.
I shook my head, and suddenly, the woman in the mirror no longer appeared as the warrior princess, ready to conquer the Crookshollow wedding scene. She was Carol Winters again, the broken girl, the poor, pathetic cripple, in a ridiculous suit.
Irvine would never want a broken girl.
I blinked, forcing back the tears that prickled at the corners of my eyes. Who cares if no one wants me? Sex isn’t that great, anyway. It’s perfectly possible to live a fulfilling life without sex. And even if I were to have sex, at some point in the distant future, it’s not going to be with a werewolf, even a devilishly sexy one.
I checked my mobile phone. Yikes. I had only seven minutes to make my way across town for my client meeting. Not only was Irvine distracting me 24/7, but he was making me late for appointments.
I checked my hair one last time, grabbed my client folder and organiser, locked up the apartment, and hobbled down the stairs. One thing I did not love about my new apartment was the fact that it was above Resurrection Ink, which meant slogging up and down a narrow flight of stairs. Stairs and prosthetics didn’t mix well.
I raced around back to the shop’s parking lot, where Bianca allowed me to park my car. Just seeing the little blue Fiat made my heart soar. I’d never owned a car before. Mum never even allowed me to learn to drive. I took a month of lessons in secret, learning how to parallel park and operate my accessible lever while Mum was at her weekly tarot reading. I purchased the Fiat the day I got my full license, threw a suitcase full of new clothes and my organiser in the backseat, and drove it out of London that very afternoon.
Ever since I arrived, I’ve been driving around Crookshollow and the surrounding Loamshire county so much that I was practically ready for Bathurst. Which was a good thing, since I had exactly five-and-a-half minutes to make it across town.
I gunned the engine, stuck the Fiat in reverse, and yanked the lever on the steering column to lay on the juice. Because I only had limited sensation from the foot of my prosthesis through to my leg, I’d had a special lever fitted to the car that allowed me to control the accelerator and brake with my hands. I backed out of the space, flipped into drive, and yanked the wheel around. The car bounced over the curb and out onto Honeysuckle Road.
I didn’t need directions to find the place. Even though I’d only been in Crookshollow for a few weeks, I relied on Raynard Hall as an important landmark. The enormous manor towered over Holly Avenue, and was the home of reclusive artist Ryan Raynard and his fiancée Alex Kline.
Elinor and Bianca were friends with Ryan and Alex, and they must’ve said something nice about me, because Alex had called a couple of weeks ago, wanting me to plan
her upcoming wedding. The couple would be my first celebrity clients in Loamshire, which was not something I’d expected to happen when I’d chosen the tiny village by jabbing my finger blindly at a map. Back in London, I regularly organised secret weddings for movie stars and raucous engagement parties for Top 40 musicians. I’d even done a royal wedding once.
That should’ve been the shining moment of my career, but the whole event was tainted by the fact that the royal in question – who was a bit of a “black sheep” – chose me because I was Helen Winters’ daughter. The bride couldn’t even remember my name; she kept calling me “peg-leg.” She forced me to wear a knee-length dress to the event so all her friends could see my prosthesis. I cried all the way through the reception, and that was when I’d vowed to myself that I had to leave London.
Luckily, Alex seemed not to know anything about me beyond what her friends had told her, and she’d never once called me peg-leg or even glanced down at my foot during the one meeting we’d had at a local cafe called Bewitching Bites. Alex was also friends with the couple who owned it – a quiet Chinese lady named Belinda and her raven-haired partner Cole – and they’d made some amazing food for Bianca’s party, so I knew they were a good choice for the catering. Alex’s vision of her dream wedding day was very different from Bianca’s, and with 400 high-profile guests coming from all corners of the world, this wedding had to be absolutely majestic.
Majestic I could handle.
Since that meeting, I’d been so busy with Bianca’s crazy party and Elinor’s elegant gothic affair, not to mention the recent distraction of Irvine, I hadn’t had much chance to think about the scale of what Alex was asking me to do. As Raynard Hall’s wrought iron gates swung open to admit me, it all came flooding at me. I had to pull this off. This was Willow Summers’ chance to make a name for herself, completely devoid of my mother’s notoriety, with an entirely new customer base in the art world who didn’t know me from trash TV and tabloid newspapers.
Wedding the Wolf: A wolf shifter paranormal romance Page 4