chapter two
The Present
Drumbeats and darkness descended over the forest after the last glimmer of dusk was snuffed out like a thumb smothering a single flame. Wolfrik stalked toward the glade on two legs, smoke coating his tongue. He drifted onto the scene and took a place among the trees, blending into the landscape rather than joining his packmates around the bonfire.
They drank and danced. A young pack member named David had been murdered by a human ten days ago, and another member, Sydney, banished to Glenn Meadows, but the pack had still moved on to celebrate Raider and Jordan’s claiming.
Raider sat on a stump with his long muscular legs spread wide, Jordan seated on his lap, her slender, shapely legs between his, and one arm wrapped around his thick neck and shoulder.
Wolfrik folded his arms across his chest, noting to himself that he’d seen their claim coming from many moons away, glad the two shifters had found one another. Such an attractive, privileged pair with two living parents between them: Garrick and Palmer. The men had begged Wolfrik’s and Sasha’s parents to take them in after the fall of civilization, and now those fools were running things, placing themselves on the council and lording the title of elder over their heads.
Trees were old, too; that didn’t make them leaders.
An old woman with long tangled white hair sat on a stump beside Jager. She had insisted on joining Aden on his return trip to Wolf Hollow after dumping Sydney off with the Glenn Meadows shifters. Aden had a big bleeding heart. Always had. Go figure. Aden was the only werewolf Wolfrik had ever known, adopted into the pack after a group of elders found him in the woods with an older, dying werewolf. Aden had never been very talkative as a boy. Because of his size, no one ever tried to tease or mess with him. Presently, Aden stood watching the dancers before moving his attention to the drummers. He inched over to the log where Sasha, Tabor, and Elsie sat, nodding hello but not lingering long. The werewolf seemed incapable of remaining in one place for too long. He passed the cauldron and would have passed Wolfrik, too, if he hadn’t called out to him.
“Why’s the old crone really here? I’m sure it’s not just to amuse the females with her so-called fortune-telling skills.” Wolfrik nodded to where a packmate named Janelle kneeled in front of the old woman, grasping her palm. A small line of females had formed, waiting their turn for a glimpse into their bright, shiny, so-called futures.
Wolfrik rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to be eighty years old to predict fortunes. That one will probably end up with her friend’s brother, Hudson, after he finishes licking his wounds. I doubt he’ll wait too long. He’ll want to prove he’s over Jordan by claiming someone else.”
Aden eased over to his side, following the direction of Wolfrik’s eyes with an expression that lifted and fell like a shrug.
“Don’t want your fortune told?” Wolfrik attempted to goad him even though he knew it was futile. He’d been one of the only brave young pups who had tried teasing Aden growing up. The werewolf never took the bait. How dull.
“I don’t put much faith in predictions,” Aden said. “I prefer to take things as they come. Day by day.”
Rather than leave it at that, Wolfrik grinned wolfishly. “Sure you don’t want to find out who you’re destined to mate? That pretty little witch shifter perhaps?”
Aden winced and rubbed his jaw. “She’s off-limits. Well, really it’s me who is off-limits.”
Right, he’d heard about the council ordering Aden to remain single and on patrol for the rest of his life.
“Do werewolves typically allow wolves to order them around?” Wolfrik flashed a taunting grin.
Aden’s jaw tightened.
Come on werewolf, snap back, take a swing—show some bloody backbone. Aden was probably the only pack member who could take Wolfrik on physically—him or Raider.
Aden took a deep breath and released it. His jaw relaxed, but he couldn’t entirely mask his annoyance.
“Flora is here to meet you and assess whether or not you would make a suitable match for Hailey,” Aden said.
Wolfrik gave a dismissive sniff.
Hailey was one of only two purebloods left in Glenn Meadows. While Wolfrik had been in captivity, the elders had tried, and failed, to match her brother Hector with Sasha.
“Shouldn’t take the old crone long to figure out I’m no good for their last remaining female pureblood.”
“I imagine not,” Aden said without pause.
Wolfrik barked out a short laugh. Good to know Aden wasn’t entirely thickheaded.
Wolfrik would never claim a life mate. After the torment he’d been through, he wasn’t capable of making a female happy. The only she-wolf he’d had a fighting chance with had been stolen by a shifter who wasn’t even all wolf.
Janelle stood up and Lacy was about to come forward next when the old woman put her hand up to stop her. Her head swiveled to the side, and her gaze flew to Wolfrik with breathtaking speed. Her pupils were tiny dots, like fine arrow tips finding their mark.
Beside the woman, Jager lifted his head to see what she was staring at.
“Wolfrik,” he called. “Flora would like to meet you.”
Bristling, Wolfrik’s arms stiffened around his torso. He’d like to tell Flora to mind her own damn business—to plant it where the sun don’t shine—but her gaze skewered him straight through the throat and tugged as though reeling in a trout from the river. Only one woman had ever had that effect on him before. His mother.
Reluctantly, Wolfrik traipsed forward, arms flopping to his sides. He stopped half a foot in front of the old woman. He’d come, but he wasn’t about to kneel.
She looked him up and down several times, sparing no part of his body her scrutiny, including his cock, stuffed and tucked inside a pair of tight jeans. She frowned, which Wolfrik took as a good sign. Hopefully Flora wouldn’t make him spell things out for her. He wasn’t mate material. Not anymore.
“You will not mate with another pureblood.” The old woman frowned.
“What? Are you sure?” Jager sputtered, gaping at her. In that moment, he looked like a juvenile shifter whose mother had told him he had to chop firewood all afternoon while his friends played. “Perhaps you should look at his palms.”
“I need only look into his eyes,” Flora said. She homed in on Wolfrik with her spear-like stare. “It is not fate but a female who will shape his future.” She leaned forward, her frown deepening. “Two females.”
Wolfrik smirked and might have ventured a lewd comment if Flora’s eyes hadn’t narrowed as though knowing exactly the direction his thoughts had traveled.
“One could redeem you. The other could mean your doom and that of your entire pack.”
Jager hissed, eyes expanding inside his wrinkled face.
Flora’s own eyes went out of focus, which turned out to be more disconcerting than the way she’d stared at Wolfrik.
“The birds fly north,” she said ominously.
“Don’t you mean south?” Wolfrik said.
“The birds fly north,” she repeated. “One set you free. The other wants you caged.”
Wolfrik’s heart slammed against his chest as though trying to break free of his rib cage. The hairs rose on the back of his neck, and he snarled. Claws punched through his fingers. Several nearby shifters looked over and sucked in their breath. Jager hurried to his feet and said Wolfrik’s name in a warning tone that he barely heard through the blood pumping in his ears.
“You know nothing, old crone!” Wolfrik bellowed. He backed up a step, followed by another. “Go back to your own pack and leave us the hell alone!”
Swinging around, he stormed away from the glade and ran into the dark forest.
Bad enough that the old woman was spreading false hope to the females of Wolf Hollow. Why did she have to go and torment him? She knew nothing! Gibberish. But as he ran, he swore he heard phantom wings whooshing past the trees in pursuit. Those wings approached near enough to waft against the back of his neck, like a human breath whispering the name “Cujo.”
The steady rhythm of drumbeats thrummed inside Kallie’s chest. She sat near the three performers: Heath, Alec, and Maureen, transfixed by the movements of their hands. With the beat inside her, she temporarily lost herself to the tempo, momentarily forgetting her mangled foot, stretched across the earth like a twisted tree root.
Jager would never select her to perform in the mating or claiming dance again, but maybe she could learn to drum. She could do it sitting, and it would still allow her to participate in the ceremonies. But was there a place for her? There had only ever been three drummers, and unlike dance partners—and unlike mates—the drummers never changed. Alec’s head and shoulders bounced as he rapped on his drum, doing his own little dance on the ground.
“Well? What did the old woman say?” Taryn asked.
“Yeah, did she tell you the name of your mate and how many pups you’re going to have?”
The drumbeats weren’t enough to drown out the voices of Taryn and Gina as they walked beside Janelle. Luckily, they moved past the drums. Kallie didn’t want to hear about their futures filled with love, happiness, and children. She didn’t want to be here at all—forced to watch Jordan and Raider making moon eyes at one another. But nor did she want to be a sourpuss like Camilla, who was pouting in the den and watching over baby Franny while her father and stepmother joined the festivities. Kallie wanted out of the den—desperately. Somehow, she had to find a way.
The drumbeat stopped then started right back up with a different beat. When Kallie glanced over, Alec winked, bobbing his head to the tune. She forced a smile then looked across the glade to where Jager sat drinking. He’d already had at least four mugs of his brew. This was her chance.
Pushing herself off the ground, Kallie stepped carefully toward the elder. Justin staggered by, nearly knocking into her. Kallie drew back in time, narrowing her eyes as he slurred, “S’cuse me.”
“You okay there, Kallie?”
Palmer’s gentle, caressing voice made her shudder and grind her teeth.
He slid in front of her, grinning wide and obnoxious, the reek of brew on his breath coming nearer, as though trying to capture her next inhalation in its thick, pungent waft.
“Fine,” she said in a clipped tone.
“You sure?” His brows jumped, and he raked his eyes over her body.
“I’m sure.”
Palmer wore a khaki collared shirt with two buttons unfastened at the top. His bronzed chest hair blended in with his tanned skin, and smiling lips made his cheeks puff out inside his round head. The hair on his head was a dull brown that receded on one side, making his forehead appear larger, but he had nice straight teeth and slightly crinkled, caring eyes.
Palmer moistened his lips. “Have you thought any more about my proposition?”
Kallie scowled. Just thinking about it made her recoil in disgust. Palmer wanted to make her his third mate. Apparently his other two mates, Francine and Trish, backed the decision since Kallie had been such a comfort to them since taking residence in the den. To keep herself busy, she had helped with baby Franny and Trish as the shifter went through a rough pregnancy that immobilized her most days and made her continually sick to her stomach. Kallie had felt bad for Trish. If she’d known Palmer would take her kindness as an open invitation to claim her as another female in his growing harem, she wouldn’t have bothered.
“I told you I’m not interested.” The words were like grit between Kallie’s teeth.
And yet her answer had no effect on Palmer’s smug smile.
“You come from good stock, Kallie. It would be a shame not to continue that lineage. I know the other shifters look at you and see you as defective, but I see a female who is kind, caring, and still capable of bearing children. You shouldn’t have to miss out on all that just because of an unfortunate accident. The vulhena shouldn’t be allowed to take away your chance at a family.”
Lips curling, Kallie hissed, “And you believe you’re the only male who can give that to me?”
“I’m the one offering,” he said. “I’ve become quite fond of you, Kallie.”
She snorted. He’d only seen the sweet, caring side of her. This is what came of being too nice.
Palmer sighed. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. If you need anything—anything at all—let me know.”
He swaggered away before she had a chance to tell him what she needed was for him to leave her alone before she shifted and used her fangs to demonstrate that she was capable of more than just bearing children and assisting his family.
When she reached Jager, her skin was still crawling, as though Palmer’s eyes had grown fingers that trailed over her arms and legs. Kallie shuddered. Near her, Amber sat on her knees in front of the elder shifter from Glenn Meadows, clasping the old woman’s hands.
“Oh my gosh. Thank you, Flora. Thank you so much,” Amber gushed, lashes fluttering as she blinked back tears.
Dark gaps appeared between Flora’s lips when she smiled. “Do not thank me, child. It was destined by the stars.”
Kallie turned her back to them. She too felt like falling to her knees—if only to beg Jager to put her back on patrol at the next moon cycle.
He looked up at her with a kind smile. Hopefully the drink had filled him with generosity.
“Kallie, you look well, my dear,” he said.
“I feel great,” she said. “Hardly notice my foot anymore.”
“I’m happy to hear it.” Jager’s head bobbed ever so gently. It took Kallie a moment to realize he was moving to the music.
Beside them, Flora sucked air in through her teeth.
“Oh, dear child, you carry a heavy burden. Your fate was sealed long ago, but not in the natural way. Sorcery has foolishly attempted to supplant the stars.”
Unable to resist, Kallie glanced over to see whom Flora addressed with such passion. Tabor’s half sister, Elsie, sat on her knees, grasping the old woman’s wrists as though they were branches keeping her from falling over a cliff. Somehow her long white dress always remained pristine—magic, perhaps—and her long brown hair had a shiny, silk sheen even in the dark.
“But is there anything I can do to take back my future?” Elsie leaned closer, staring into the woman’s eyes as though she could see the stars reflected within her murky irises and all they held in store.
“You already know the answer to your question,” Flora answered.
“So, there’s still hope,” Elsie mused wistfully.
It was hard to tune out such a curious fortune-telling. Odd that a powerful half-witch would be consulting an elder shifter claiming she could read the stars and palms.
But Kallie had her own future to secure, and she wasn’t leaving it up to fate or constellations in the sky.
She turned back to Jager and squared her shoulders.
“I went running on three legs yesterday, and it’s pretty much the same as four.”
Jager nodded, but he was watching the dancers.
“Put me back on patrol. Please, Jager.”
His lips drooped into a sad smile when his gaze found hers.
“Sorry, Kallie. You know I sympathize with your injury more than anyone, but you’d only slow your partner down. Besides, Palmer tells me you’ve been a great help to his family.”
Kallie scowled violently. Is that all the elders saw her as good for? Putting herself at the beck and call of Palmer, Francine, and Trish?
As she jerked away from Jager, blinking back angry tears, she noticed two ancient eyes peering at her, pulling her in. It was as though those eyes had latched onto Kallie’s legs and moved Kallie toward her. There was an empty spot in front of Flora. Kallie kneeled in front of her, not sure why she bothered except perhaps to find out if her life was truly ruined.
Flora took Kallie’s hands in hers and squeezed before turning them over to stare into her palms. The old woman smiled slightly.
“Ah. So, you’re the one.”
Kallie winced. “Please tell me I’m not doomed.”
“Doomed?” The old woman cackled. “Dear child, the future is yours for the taking.”
Flora leaned in closer, causing Kallie’s heart to beat wildly with something she hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.
“I see it clear as sky. You will give birth to a strong, handsome son who will grow into a leader to future generations of this pack.”
Kallie’s heart skipped a beat.
A son.
She was going to be a mother—to have a strong, healthy son. A leader.
She shook her head, silently scolding herself for getting pulled into the old woman’s fantasy. Kallie yanked her hands out of Flora’s and got up on shaky legs. Flora baffled her further by flashing a knowing smile. Unfortunately, sometime during the fortune-telling, Rosalie had skipped over to wait her turn and overheard the last bit.
She squealed, her brown eyes expanding in her round face right before she threw her arms around Kallie.
“Oh my gosh, congratulations! A boy!” Rosalie let go and whipped around to address their closest bystanders. “Kallie’s going to give birth to a boy, everyone.”
“Shhh,” Kallie hissed, eyes narrowing.
She squeezed Rosalie’s arm so tightly her friend gave a squeak. Rosalie’s head drew back in surprise as though she hadn’t expected Kallie to possess that kind of strength since the accident, but there was nothing wrong with her hands and arms.
“I thought you’d be happy.” Rosalie’s lower lip pouted, and she rubbed her arm where Kallie had squeezed.
Kallie huffed and rolled her eyes. “It’s all a bunch of foolish babble.”
“Well, I think it’s real or, at the very least, fun.” Rosalie’s rounded face and chubby cheeks made her appear younger than her twenty-two years. She had thick, smooth hair, the darkest brown, which she brushed over her shoulder before taking her place in front of Flora.
“Dismissed,” Kallie thought. Because she wasn’t fun anymore, not since she’d gotten her foot mangled.
Her gaze went to Raider. His head was bent into Jordan’s, their lips locked together, while one muscled arm disappeared beneath her top. If there’d been any sparks left in Kallie’s soul, they winked out right then.
On unsteady legs, she limped away from the bright, burning bonfire and all the boisterous music, dancing, and laughter, toward the dark trail leading back to the den. She’d gathered her courage and made her appearance, and now that she had, there wasn’t any reason to subject herself to this torture any longer.
She could still hear the drumbeats behind her when Francine caught up.
“Congratulations, Kallie. A boy is a fortunate prediction. The old woman said I’m destined to birth another girl.” Francine wrinkled her nose at the last part.
Francine was as bad as Palmer. The two of them were like wolves ganging up on weaker prey. It made her seethe that they saw her that way and believed they could cajole her into joining their renegade family.
Kallie shrugged with a dismissive lift of her nose. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in wild guesses. You could just as easily have a boy. It’s not like Flora will be around to see her predictions fail.”
Francine put her hands on her hips. “Flora predicted the massacre of our elders.”
“So she claims,” Kallie returned.
“It haunts her still,” Francine said. “If she’d had her vision a couple days earlier, someone from Glenn Meadows would have been able to warn us in time.”
“Well, they didn’t.” Kallie ground her teeth.
“Life goes on,” Francine said. Obviously, there was no love lost for her parents, unless she kept it to herself. “Palmer would love to have a son.”
“Perhaps Trish will give him one.”
“We’ll see about that. In the meantime, you should really make yourself useful, Kallie. You can’t patrol, and you’ll never have your own mate. Don’t you want to be a mother? Don’t you want to help your pack?” Francine demanded.
Bitter hot sparks erupted inside Kallie. She lifted herself to her full height, which had always been average. There was no way to tower over Francine, who stood four inches taller.
“Don’t you want your mate to yourself?” Kallie shot back.
She expected her question to irritate Francine, but the overbearing she-wolf simply stuck her nose in the air like she was above such petty jealousy.
“Palmer is the greatest man in Wolf Hollow. He’s highly intelligent, potent, and a natural leader. The pack would benefit from having more of his offspring around, especially since Sasha shirked her duties by breeding with a half-breed. And it’s not like there’s much hope of Wolfrik mating Hailey from Glenn Meadows since returning half-mad.”
Kallie narrowed her eyes. Francine should watch her mouth. She had no idea what it was like to carry around scars and feel that the strongest parts of her had been forever stolen.
Francine’s head was too full of her own self-importance and her mate’s virility to notice Kallie’s aggravation. She tossed her hair back and thrust out her chest.
“Just because you’re maimed doesn’t mean you can’t bear Palmer strong, healthy pups. In the meantime, you can help with mine and Trish’s. It will help prepare you for when your own pups come.”
All thoughts left Kallie’s head. The ability to speak had vanished in her blinding rage. It was as though she’d shifted into a snarling, angry wolf confronted by a deadly pack of vulhena.
But Kallie hadn’t shifted. She still stood on two not-so-sturdy legs, incapacitated by her fury.
When she said nothing, Francine looked down her nose at Kallie. “Do us all a favor and stop playing coy. Accept Palmer as your partner at the next full moon celebration. You should feel lucky we chose you, Kallie.”
After shooting her one final look of superiority, Francine walked away.
Kallie was still rooted to the spot long after Francine had disappeared into the trees. Speech eluded her. The only language she understood at the moment was the animalistic kind.
She’d rather banish herself from Wolf Hollow than bend over for Palmer. She’d rather join a new pack than answer to Francine. The Glenn Meadows shifters had taken Syndey in. Why shouldn’t they take her? Maybe they’d have a place for her to help. Unlike Wolf Hollow, Glenn Meadows still had a healthy population of elders, but they were getting older—like Flora. Perhaps they could train Kallie in the healing arts. She’d felt so helpless when Jordan’s sister, Emerson, had fallen ill. She wished she knew more about medicinal herbs and healing. Most of that knowledge had died with their elders, and the pack had to rely on Tabor’s magic.
If Kallie became skilled in the healing arts, her pack would beg for her return.
As soon as the thought occurred to her, Kallie latched onto it like a wolf onto a meaty piece of bone.
She was done with Jager, Palmer, and Francine telling her what she could and couldn’t do. The old woman was right about one thing: the future was hers for taking.
She ripped her dress off, tearing the fabric with her bare hands. Destroying the old cloth thrilled her.
Kallie couldn’t carry it on her journey to Glenn Meadows. Once she shifted, she didn’t plan on turning back into a human until she reached the nearest neighboring wolf pack. During the five-day journey, she’d hunt her own game and keep warm in her fur at night. Her foot would slow her down, but three legs were better than one.
Excitement coursed through her. No one could have her. No one could stop her. Freedom and possibility called to her, and she would answer back.