Wild for Shifters: Wolves

Chapter One

The wind shrieked through the trees like the dying call of a hunted bird—a gasping, eerie sound that raised the hair along the back of her neck in warning. The great wolf halted her progress, crouching low in the brush, tilting her head toward the sky as though she could find its source.

A canopy of leaves shrouded her view of the moon, but naught more than air stirred the silent sentinels. Pine needles rustled under the heavy brush of air—scraping, rasping sounds that drew her nerves taut.

Her hide itched with warning, a sting that increased the tempo of her heart and the breath in her lungs. Mali panted, shaking her skin as though throwing off biting gnats. She stilled, listening once more, hearing only the faint puff of her own breathing and no sound of a living thing. The feeling persisted, as though a light shone down revealing her position. ’Twas a foolish thought. She knew she blended with her surroundings for her fur was sleek and black as the sky above, and yet she knew...she knew he had found her.

He played a game. The twisted bastard had been trailing her for days into the Blackhaunted wood and the Pine Barrens. Mali remained tense, awaiting attack, watching her breath freeze in the midnight air. Her eyes soaked up the light, watching the silhouettes of brush and tree alike. Long moments passed and nothing befell her. Had she imagined the danger? Had she not scented the stranger in the air?

By finite degrees she relaxed. Perhaps it had been only the wind. She could not admit, even to herself, how much he had rattled her. Bastard.

With deliberate slowness, she pushed through the dried, dead brush, wincing at each crackle of leaf, each snap of twig. Mali padded along the ground, keeping her head low. Her fur whipped as a sudden wind bore down on her, and a howl rent the air with a piercing wail. Mali twisted away—too late. He crashed into her, pinning her body to the ground under his superior weight.

A growl of fury erupted from her throat, forcing the air from her lungs. She sucked in a breath and screamed, thrashing, churning the dirt in her struggles. He grunted above her, his fingers digging into the narrow blade of her shoulders, forcing her down.

Do you yield to me? he shouted in a voice deep and chilling as a bottomless well...

Mali awakened with a gasp. Her belly contracted, the muscles hardened. A sheen of sweat beaded her skin despite the warm air seeping through her loft from the kitchen below. She lay there, willing her racing heartbeat to return to normal, for her breathing to slow.

For a week past, the nightmare invaded her sleep. Over and over again, she’d attempted to escape pursuit from the stranger in her dreams to no avail. She couldn’t remember his face or form, only that he disturbed her more than anything else in her life ever had. She’d had premonitions before—they always came true. Mali didn’t want to worry her parents with her fears, so remained silent, hoping this time she was wrong. Her mother had commented on the dark circles beneath her eyes, and both she and her father said it must be the coming of the Moonlight Festival causing Mali distress. That or she was going into heat, which was just as unsettling. As much as she wanted to believe herself immune to the cycles of the wolf clan, she couldn’t deny that she felt a subtle change growing within her.

Never leaving the shelter of her parents’ home and small farm, Mali was forbidden to attend the annual festival where others of their kind found their mates. Once upon a time, before she’d come of age, her parents’ decision to remain secluded in the woods with little contact from the outside world had greatly distressed her. As the years passed, she grew to understand her limitations and how those limits would be perceived by the rest of the clan. Now that she understood her parents’ reasoning in forbidding her attendance, she’d come to a measure of peace with their decision. Even if it meant she would never have children or a love of her own.

Perhaps the imposed seclusion was finally getting to her in spite of that, causing the anxiety that consumed her night after night. Perhaps it was the waxing of the moon and her body responding to nature’s call.

She hated it, but the mystery would have to wait another day.

Mali, the chickens need feeding and the cow is lowing out back. Get your head on straight and do your chores, Abba, her mother, called from the kitchen. The scent of bacon frying and biscuits rising in the oven mingled together to make a scent that lured Mali from the bed and dispelled the disturbing thoughts from her mind.

Slipping from her bed with a groan and stretch, Mali walked to her hope chest which was filled with broken dreams rather than the niceties which would start her own household. She’d long ago stopped sewing baby clothes and embroidering tapestries, pillowcases, and sheets in favor of mending her faded work clothes instead.

Removing her nightgown and flinging it across the bed, Mali slipped her worn, but favorite lilac gown over her head. Attempting to drag her comb through her thick hair, she finally gave up after a few minutes and pulled her unruly curly hair back off her face with a ribbon and stuck her feet in her wooden clogs. The daisies painted across the toes had long since worn away with trips through the woods and daily chores.

Descending the ladder from her lonely loft, Mali dropped down into the kitchen below. The cottage had only two rooms: the common room where they cooked, ate, and gathered before and after meals, and her parents’ bedroom. She was fortunate the high-peaked, thatched roof had allowed the addition of her sleeping area, which her father had graciously built for her after re-thatching the roof a few years ago. She did appreciate having a space to call her own. Sometimes, she would even find a bird nest or mouse family in residence with her. Papa hated when she took in tiny creatures as pets, but she’d never been able to dump them back out into the wild without protest.

Mali tripped on the rug covering the root cellar beneath the kitchen area then smoothed it back in place before grabbing her apron off the back of her chair and tying it around her waist. She sighed. I never get a day off, she complained, grabbing a piece of bacon and munching absently while she eyeballed the biscuits her mother pulled out of the stove. Butter scented steam wafted in the air.

Your father and I don’t either. It’s the way of things when you live this far from town. Stop complaining and go out and feed the chickens before everything gets cold. Your father has probably already tended the cow by now. He said he wanted fresh milk for breakfast. Hurry, I’m making eggs next, and I know you don’t like them cold.

Mali kissed her mother’s chubby dark cheek, grabbed her straw hat then disappeared out the door. She scooped dried corn out of the barrel and placed it in her apron. Here, chick, chick, chick, she called, scattering corn across the dirt in the front yard. The chickens clucked and swarmed the feed, pecking at the ground as she moved through them to the lean-to on the back of the house where they kept their milking cow. Her father stood from his squat stool and stretched, putting two hands on the small of his back as he grimaced.

I would have done that, papa, Mali said, taking the heavy bucket from her father.

Barnardo smiled and chucked her chin with affection. I know you like to sleep late. I was already up, and I can tell you haven’t been sleeping well. I know it’s the festival bothering you, even if you won’t admit it.

Oh, papa, she said, lugging the bucket of milk behind him as they headed back inside the house for breakfast. I gave up on the idea of that a long time ago when I learned of my limitations. It’s one thing to dream about it when you don’t know any better.

Her father scrubbed a hand over his face and released a heavy sigh. You might be at peace, but I wanted grandchildren running around and tearing up the place for me and your mama.

Aye, she said, lowering her gaze.

He held the door open for her, looking at her with his sad, brown eyes.

Mali rubbed her cheek on his big shoulder before going inside. Normally, the fact that she wasn’t a full shifter was never brought up in conversation. They all avoided harping on the obvious, because it wasn’t something any of them could change anyway, and it hurt something inside of her to be reminded of the fact that she was a freak in their world. No man would ever want a mate that couldn’t run with him as a wolf.

You two took long enough, Abba said as they walked inside. She set plates of bacon and fried eggs at each of their places. A basket of biscuits waited to be plucked in the middle of the worn oak table and fresh butter and jam occupied bowls on either side of the basket.

Mali’s stomach rumbled as she sat down to eat her breakfast. Barnardo dipped a cup of milk in a ceramic mug and set it down in front of her before getting himself some. For himself, he fixed a cup of milk and a mug of coffee. Later on they’d separate the milk for fresh butter. Abba enjoyed baking pastries for trade in town.

Pulling the chair out for Abba, she smiled at her husband and swatted his arm playfully when he waggled his eyebrows. Mali watched them interact, feeling warmed that she had caring parents that loved each other. Life was good.

Booted heels tread on their porch, and then a knock sounded on the door before Barnardo could seat himself. He stopped in the motion of dragging his chair from beneath the table, giving Abba and Mali a wide-eyed glance.

Barnardo looked at Abba. Did you order supplies from town for today? he whispered.

Abba fidgeted with her hands. No, she said quietly, straining her ears.

Get down in the cellar, he said to Mali.

Knocking came again. Louder this time.

Mali stood quickly and flipped back the rug covering their root cellar. Lifting the heavy door for her, Barnardo waited until she was at the bottom of the ladder before he carefully shut the door over her head without making a sound. Abba rose to her feet with an effort, waddling to the cellar door and flipping the rug back over it as Barnardo walked to the door.

Who goes there? he called through the door, cocking his ear to hear a response.

Open in the name of Clan Leader Nicodemus, a deep voice said on the other side.

Barnardo’s dark face turned ashen. Sweat popped along his brow. Abba, standing behind her husband, clutched her chest with one hand and grabbed his arm with the other.

He looked over his shoulder at her shaking her head and mouthing ‘no’.

I have to, he said, slowly reaching for the door handle.

The pickings are slim for the festival this year, Torolf said to Jaxon, nodding his blond head in the direction of the open air wagon carrying eligible clan women behind them.

Maybe they’re scared they’ll like orgies and they’re all hiding, Ranger said with a chuckle, slapping Torolf’s bicep with the back of his hand.

Jaxon sighed in exasperation, looking from Ranger’s scruffy, bearded face to Torolf’s clean shaven one. Both of them had the kind of looks and attitude which would easily win them a woman if they were willing to settle down—which they weren’t. No more so than he. The northerners are making the trek. These southern folk don’t like to leave their warm climate for the cold. It’s a fool’s errand Nicodemus has sent us on. But we’ve no choice but to follow orders, Jaxon of the Black Wolf Clan said, scanning the road ahead of them.

The morning breeze flicked his long brown hair across his face, making strands stick to his eyelashes and mouth. He frowned and wiped his face clean in annoyance. He knew without looking that silver threaded the once dark strands. A little more salt on his old head every day.

Are you certain there is another one this way? Ranger asked, propping his hands on the worn pommel of his saddle. I’ve just about worn my ass off riding.

The baker said he delivers wheat and oats this way a few times a year. He’s the one that said he thought he’d seen a girl watching him behind a thatched cottage. I didn’t say a damned thing about it, Jaxon said, cracking his neck as if for emphasis.

We’ll sniff her out if there’s one here, Ranger said, glancing behind them and giving the girls a wink. Don’t know why these people think they can go against pack law and not give up their daughters.

Behind them, the gaggle of women they were escorting to the festival squawked and babbled like a flock of geese. The sound of their high pitched voices and laughter made Jaxon grit his teeth. Babysitting duty. He rubbed his throbbing temples, eager to be done with this business so he could return to his home alone.

As much as the others might look forward to the festival and the chance to find a mate, or just get laid, Jaxon wanted no part of it. He preferred his peaceful solitude. He was too damned old and set in his ways to want a woman to come into his life and create chaos in his carefully ordered world. Jen had ruined him for all others. Plus, he knew with his looks he’d never get one he wanted. Most of them took one look at the scars on his face and high-tailed it back to prettier fare like Torolf and Ranger.

The Bear Clan had done more than just scar his face and ruin his knee. They’d given him a lasting reminder of vulnerability that repulsed the others of his clan, even if they were grateful for his sacrifice in protecting them. Being a hero wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Jaxon rose in the stirrups, letting some of the kinks out of his sore backside. He rolled his head, cracking his neck again as if that would alleviate the headache that’d been bothering him since the night before. He didn’t want to admit it was probably from sleeping on the ground and being on the road...that he was past his prime.

Adolfo pulled the reins with his meaty hands, making the enormous horses stop before the trail. The pair snorted and pawed at the ground before settling down. Road’s too narrow. I’ll wait here with the wagon while you all check ahead.

Jaxon nodded, nudging his bay horse forward with his booted heels. Leaving the noise behind suited him just fine. Behind him, Torolf and Ranger followed suit.

Ancient trees reached their heavy arms towards one another, arching limbs over the road like a canopy. Grey moss laced through the leaves, dripping from the branches like curtains. Dust motes drifted through the early morning sunlight that dappled the pitted trail.

Foliage hugging the road slapped against his legs as he guided his horse along the little used trail—if the overgrowth was any indication. If the baker was to be believed, the couple that lived out here rarely went to town, but he said he’d caught glimpses of a young girl a few times and thought they were keeping her out of sight on purpose. Jaxon knew how small towns were. If anything didn’t seem normal, it was up for conversation and speculation. It could be she was just too young to participate in the festivities and had overprotective parents. Tradition dictated all unmated women gather for mating rights, but he wasn’t so sure he’d want a daughter of his attending the sometimes brutal festival.

The smell of earth permeated the air, and the longer they traversed the trail, the clearer the scent of cooking meat became. Jaxon caught a whiff of bacon grease carrying through the air.

We’re close, he said to Torolf and Ranger.

I know. The smell is driving me crazy, Ranger said.

My stomach’s about to eat me alive, Torolf muttered, clutching his belly.

We’ll get done here and go out on a hunt. I’m ready for some fresh meat, Jaxon said. As he said it, the quaint cottage came into his view. A small paned window stood open, allowing bacon grease and wood smoke to perfume the air. The trail came to an end at a small, closed gate. Over the rustic wood fence, Jaxon could see a few dozen chickens pecking at feed strewn across the dirt.

He dropped down off his horse, handing the reins to Torolf before going to the gate. It opened with a creak and he stepped under the small trellis trimmed in ivy before walking stiffly down a flagstone path. His bum knee burned and pinched from riding in the saddle for too many days, and he favored it with a slight limp. The way the sunlight filtered through the great pines surrounding the cottage produced a homey picture that made him miss his own place.

Approaching the porch, he could hear voices inside that quieted as he stepped on the hand hewn boards and rapped sharply on the door.

A chair scraped inside.

His senses, ever acute, detected furtive movement. Jaxon cocked his ear, listening to anxious moves, steps across weakened floorboards—the scrape of two more chairs. He felt the vibrations of a door being shut.

Puzzled, Jaxon frowned and knocked again. Harder this time.

Footsteps approached the door. Jaxon tensed, expecting the worst.

Who goes there? a male voice asked on the other side.

By the raspy quality, Jaxon suspected the man was older. Open in the name of Clan Leader Nicodemus, he said.

A few moments passed.

The doorknob squeaked as it rotated, and the door slowly opened. A cautious old man with black skin, a salt and pepper beard, and gray hair peered through the crack. Behind him, Jaxon could see what had to be the man’s wife, round and short with wide, fear-filled brown eyes.

Why were they so scared? Enemies certainly wouldn’t take the time to knock before attacking.

Who are you? What you want? he asked in a furious whisper.

Jaxon cleared his throat, relaxing the fists he’d made of his hands without realizing it. He pasted a smile on his face. Good morning, Sir, Madam. I’ve orders to round up all available women for the Moonlight Festival. I’ve heard word from town that you have a daughter.

We ain’t got no daughter, the man said, moving to shut the door.

Jaxon put his foot on the stoop, blocking him. The man’s eyes widened then narrowed as he frowned. Reliable sources tell me you do. Can I check for myself? I’ve come a long way.

Behind the old man, the wife tugged at his sleeve. He dipped his head to let her whisper in his ear. Finally, he nodded. I reckon. But make it quick. We was eating breakfast.

The man opened the door, allowing Jaxon to walk inside. It won’t take long, Jaxon said, applying his politest voice and immediately spotting the loft above the kitchen and the table set for three. Jaxon stopped at the table. Beneath his foot, he felt the floorboards sag beneath a rug covering. Placing his hands on his hips, he stared at the table then glanced at the plump woman. Any reason you have three plates? Were you expecting someone?

The wife hurried to the table. That was just some extra I fixed for my husband. Sometimes he wants seconds in the morning.

Jaxon stooped and flipped the rug up, revealing a trap door. What’s this? he asked, glancing from one to the other.

It’s just the root cellar, the old man said, crinkling his forehead and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You don’t mind if I check it too?

Nothing down there but salted meat and preserves, the old man said, walking stiffly into the room. His wife waited by the open door, wringing her hands.

Just the same... Jaxon nodded, then pulled the rug and lifted the trapdoor.

As soon as it was opened, a form lunged through the opening knocking Jaxon back on his ass. The wind left his lungs and the floorboards reverberated with the force of his landing. A girl leapt over his prone body, heading for the open door.

Jaxon snatched at her ankle as she ran past. The girl stomped his fingers before continuing through the small house, bursting outside and leaving him behind as he recovered. Rolling on his belly with a roar, Jaxon launched himself to his feet. She was quick, he’d give her that.

Too old for this, he growled, following seconds behind her.

She rounded the building, moving away from his men waiting outside the front gate instead of heading straight for them.

You got this? Ranger called when Jaxon came into view.

He didn’t answer, focusing instead on catching the girl. Dust sifted into the air from her feet striking the bare ground. She ducked around the thick trunk of a pine, heading for deeper wood. Pine needles and leaves scattered in her wake.

Jaxon surged behind her and felt his knee threaten to buckle beneath the strain. He realized her head start would keep her just out of reach if he didn’t do something drastic. He didn’t have time for this shit, and he damned sure wasn’t going back to his men empty handed and showing them he didn’t have an edge anymore. Without pause, Jaxon shifted seamlessly to the wolf, his loose clothing no impediment to the change. Years of practice, from the time he was a mere boy, allowed him to transform without pain or strain. Padded feet hit the ground, soft and lithe, carrying him with a speed his human form could never match. He charged through the underbrush, a dark blur as he pursued the girl. She glanced back, eyes wide as she saw him. She stumbled over a root, careening to the left to avoid hitting the trunk.

The scent of her fear permeated the air, and he caught a whiff of fine sweat as she pushed herself ahead to recover her unsteady gait. Weaving through the trees, she swiveled through the sentinels in her wooden shoes and kicked them off to gain better traction in the soft, moist loam.

The tactic wouldn’t save her.

Jaxon shot forward, energy pulsing through his powerful muscles. Her panting rang in his ears, making his blood thunder with excitement as he closed in on her. Her lilac dress flapped like a sail in a breeze of her own making. He launched off the ground with his hind legs, snagging the coarse fabric with his muzzle. Ripping at the fabric like a wild, excited beast, he snatched her backward. She screamed, flipping backward to land on her backside. Halting her flight, Jaxon immediately shifted back to human form, landing on top of her. He pinned her back to the ground kicking and screaming, snapping her teeth at his arms and face and flailing her arms in a tornado of movement that nearly stunned him.

Hold...still, Jaxon shouted, sitting on her stomach to keep her from bucking him off. Fear strengthened her, but she was still no match for his greater weight and experience.

Get off me, she screamed, clawing at his face with talon-like fingers.

Her struggles forced him to wrangle her arms to the ground above her head. It left him panting for breath above her, his face within inches of her gnashing teeth and glaring golden eyes.

Do you yield? Do you yield to me? he asked again when she refused to answer, tightening his hands on her wrists for emphasis.

Her eyes widened, terror-filled. Never! she said breathlessly through gritted teeth.

Chapter Two

Why was she so scared of him? If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she’d never had contact with the outside world.

He raked his eyes over her form, snagging on her chest where her large, soft breasts jiggled with her heaving breath. She was no child, but a full grown woman. No parent could keep their child sheltered from the world forever, no matter how much they might want to. Her smooth, caramel colored skin flushed with a youthful glow and the exertion of her flight. High cheekbones and hollow cheeks gave her heart shaped face a look of high born breeding, and her brown flecked, gold eyes framed by thick, curly lashes were mesmerizing enough that Jaxon had to force himself to look away from them. He settled on her full, pouty mouth. He felt his belly contract, focusing on that orifice and imagining what it could do, and averted his eyes back to her angry gaze. He damned sure didn’t need to entertain any ideas about fucking her.

I mean you no harm! he said, his voice rusty through his dry mouth and throat.

Liar! she said, straining against him with her last reserves of energy.

He felt her weakening from her exertion. What fight she had left remained only in her mind. Her body had given out. He narrowed his eyes, tightening his thighs around her waist to control her. The fact that he was naked gave him no pause, but her quick, fevered glance at his body revealed she had not missed the state of his dress. Tension seeped from her arms and legs. Her skin sheened with perspiration, tinged with the unmistakable scent of fear. Jaxon’s nostrils flared. His mouth tightened into a hard line.

Let me go, she demanded, quietly seething when he made no move to release her.

Will you stop fighting me?

All expression dropped from her face. She went stiff and still. Yes, she said, her tone carefully controlled.

The long pause before she answered made his hackles rise.

I don’t know why, but I don’t believe you, he said, his voice sarcastic and edged with distrust.

She blinked rapidly, her thick black lashes making her golden eyes appear innocent.

Don’t even try that shit on me, he said. You could have outrun me if you’d shifted. Why didn’t you shift? You could have gotten away.

She swallowed convulsively, watching him warily. I didn’t think about it.

He felt a vein throb in his temple. Didn’t think about it.

Yes, that’s right. I’m not used to being chased. Did you hurt my parents?

He frowned. I’m not a monster. Alpha won’t allow his people to be hurt without cause.

Alpha?

Did she know nothing of pack law and rule? He understood sheltering a child from the harshness of reality, but this was going a little too far. Alpha Nicodemus, pack leader of the Black Wolf Clan.

Oh. Yeah. Can I stand up now? You’re making it hard to breathe.

He watched her a long moment and finally decided it was safe to allow her some measure of freedom. Hiking his leg to the other side of her body, he stood, pulling her wrists as he rose until she stood with him.

She twisted her arms, her fingers wiggling as if her hands hurt. You don’t have to hold me so tight, she hissed.

He bared his teeth in a smile. I wouldn’t want you to get away again. Why did you run?

She lowered her eyes. I was scared.

He clenched his jaw, striving for patience. Why were you hiding? Everyone knows all females of mating age must attend mating rights. What makes you think you’re exempt?

My parents were scared. And very protective.

His voice dropped an octave as his irritation rose. You’re chock full of information. I’d hardly call you a young girl.

Are you trying to insult me now? You’re no spring chicken, she said through a tight jaw.

Insults will get you nowhere with me, he said.

She made no reply.

He ground his teeth and tugged her wrist, pulling her along behind him as he strode back through the forest to his waiting men. Her feet dragged in the dirt. What’s your name? Or are you too scared to tell me that too? His limp was noticeable with the activity.

Mali, she said, quiet and meek as a mouse. She didn’t fool him one minute.

Well, Mali, I’m Jaxon. We’ll just forget that this ever happened. Your parents won’t be punished. You won’t be harmed, but you have to come with me. Pack law demands every unmated woman attend the Moonlight Festival for mating rights whether you want to go or not.

Glancing back at her over his shoulder, he saw her hang her head. Thick, black, curly hair fell over her forehead. Sticks and leaves clung to the clumpy curls from their struggle on the ground.

Most women are eager to find a mate, he said. They don’t hide from it.

Do you have one? she asked, looking up at him.

No. And I don’t want one. Women are too much damned trouble, he grumbled, limping through the woods until he found his clothes. Jaxon bent and collected his clothing, eyed Mali, then decided he’d wait until he got back to Ranger and Torolf before redressing. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t bolt back through the woods, this time as a wolf, while he had his pants down and his ass in the air. He’d never live down the humiliation of allowing a slip of a girl to get the best of him.

Reaching the clearing where the cottage squatted, Jaxon felt annoyed to see Ranger and Torolf chatting on their horses.

Glad you made it back, Torolf said. He ran his gaze over Jaxon’s naked body. Had to shift to catch her, huh?

He glared at Torolf’s smirk then turned on Mali. Don’t move, he said, releasing her wrist to dress.

She a lot of trouble? Ranger asked, looking relaxed and rested.

Jaxon snarled at him, agitated. Do I look like I wanted to just take a run through the woods?

Good for the heart, Ranger said, laughing.

Mali rooted to the spot watching him slip his clothes back on. Behind them, standing on the porch, waited her mother and father. They remained silent but watchful. They knew they’d disobeyed pack law by hiding their daughter from him. He should report them for punishment, but they were old and might not survive what pack law handed down to them. Added to that, he didn’t feel up to the hassle of restraining them. He had enough shit on his plate right now. Jaxon didn’t feel up to having another confrontation right now, and he’d won anyway. Getting one more female, even if it hadn’t been easy, was the objective.

Jaxon snatched his reins from Torolf. Turning to Mali, he grabbed her round the waist and lifted her on top of his mount before joining her.

Mali’s back went rigid against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her small waist then turned his horse away from the cottage. Don’t worry. You won’t have to suffer my touch for long, he muttered, feeling a strange sense of guilt as he watched her wave good-bye to her parents. Her mother covered her face with her hands, visibly weeping, while her husband hugged her chubby shoulders tight to his body. For some reason Jaxon felt disturbed by the scene, but chose to ignore the voice of doubt niggling inside his head.

Mali resisted her impulse to ram her elbow into the stranger’s jaw, bolt off the horse, and take off back into the woods. He’d caught her, but it didn’t mean she’d given up the fight. She’d chosen to submit until a more opportune time arose when she could escape. Eluding three men on horseback was a little much for her, even if she did know these woods like the back of her hand. Their advantage in shifting was naturally stronger than hers. She’d never be able to outrun three wolves.

Loosen up or this is going to be a rough ride, he said behind her.

Mali remained stiff, unwilling to relax against the hard muscles of his chest and belly. From the look of his face, which had three ragged scars sliced across his cheek and interrupting the left eyebrow, he was some kind of warrior. He was considerably older than the other two males behind him, but that just meant he had experience where they probably did not. It made sense given his rugged looks, broad chest and shoulders, and the touch of silver threading through his long, dark brown hair. His once aquiline nose had a crook in the bridge, as if it’d been broken in a fight. Whatever he was, he wasn’t very good at healing. Either that or he’d lived a hard life fighting for the clan. She didn’t want to imagine what circumstances had led to the state of his body, only that she needed to be aware of the fact that he was experienced.

Get this mop out of my face, he said, his voice dripping with irritation as he swatted her hair.

Mali flicked her hair back in his eyes, smirking inside when he sputtered and spit her hair out of his mouth.

I’ll chop it off, he warned with a low growl.

I lost my ribbon when you tackled me to the ground, she said through clenched teeth. I don’t have another one. I don’t have anything with me but the clothes on my back. I lost my shoes...

You shouldn’t have run.

You shouldn’t have chased me. You have no right—

We’ve already established I have every right.

Mali gripped the pommel of his saddle, fuming inside at his arrogance. How am I or my family supposed to know that? You broke into our house—

He cut her off again. Your father let me in. But I would have come in regardless, it’s true. You must be precious to them for them to hide you away like that.

She sniffed, feeling emotion swell in her chest. Tears sparkled in her eyes, and she blinked them away. I’ll probably never see them again.

Why would you say that? It isn’t as if you’re facing an execution.

She knew he had no idea what she would face when the clan discovered she was a freak of nature that could only partially shift into a wolf. Somewhere in her ancestry, human tainted her blood. The knowledge was enough to sentence her to death, or something worse. Her mother and father both carried the recessive trait. She’d just been the unfortunate one to suffer. It was why they’d hidden her away from the others, and why she could never attend this or any other mating festival. For what clan member would want a woman who couldn’t run as a wolf with them and would put their children at risk of being tainted as well.

How would you know anything? I’ve never been away from home.

I can tell, he said.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Take it how you want. He remained silent a long moment before finally speaking again. You can call me Jaxon, you know.

Beast sounds like a better name for you. Not that I care. She wanted him to be quiet so she could think of some way to get out of this and back home. They weren’t that far away, not yet.

His arm tightened around her middle. The edge of his palm skirted the underside of her breasts, making her keenly aware of their differences. The foreign heat of a man’s touch permeated the thin dress covering her skin. She didn’t like it. Mali wiggled against him, uncomfortable at his grip on her waist.

You got ants in your pants? Hold still, he grumbled.

Her wiggling had done something to his lap. A blunt object poked the dip in her back, giving her an idea that just might lead to her freedom.

I’ll sleep with you if you’ll let me go, she said, feeling her face heat with embarrassment at her suggestion.

I’m not tired right now. It’s still morning, he said, feigning stupidity.

Mali sensed his tension and played on it. She cleared her throat, feeling her heartbeat quicken for some odd reason. She relegated it to her bold move. She just hoped the others were far enough back they couldn’t hear her. She could handle sleeping with one, just not three. I...I mean...I’ll have sex with you. If you let me go, that is.

How exactly would you do that if I let you go? The first thing you’d do is go runnin’ back to ma and da.

He wasn’t making this easy on her. You know what I mean.

Yeah. I’m nah interested, he said gruffly.

What? she asked, flabbergasted at his refusal.

You heard me. I’m not interested in bucking someone willing to barter with their body. How do I know you have nah done it before?

If he’d been facing her, she would’ve slapped his face despite the charming brogue he let slip. I’ll have you know I’m a virgin, she said, her voice brimming with disbelief and outrage.

I’ve heard it before. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m following orders, ma’am. No sweet little brown tail is worth losing my arse over.

Mali gnashed her teeth. Her grip tightened on the pommel until her knuckles paled and her joints ached. She didn’t have enough experience to talk her way out of the hole she’d dug. Her pride stung that he’d rejected her bid for her freedom. Her mother and father had always ensured that she felt treasured and beautiful. That this man, Jaxon, would arbitrarily dismiss her giving him her virtue was enough to shatter her self-confidence.

I think you’ll find the others will keep you better company anyway. I’m sure you’ll feel more at home with them than testing your wiles out on me.

Others? she asked, keeping her eyes trained ahead on the small trail.

Jaxon lifted his arm, shielding her head from a low hanging branch that tried to snatch at her hair. The other women. We’re escorting them to the festival.

As they passed beneath the tree, Mali could see a balding giant of a man sitting on an open air bench with his chin propped in his hands and the reins to a pair of plow horses across his thick thighs. Behind him, white canvas stretched over the frame of a wagon. Her ears pricked at the cacophony of female voices drifting through the flimsy barrier.

Jaxon halted his horse and swung down off its back. He raised his arms, lifting her off the saddle and setting her on her bare feet. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her to the back of the wagon.

Welcome to the lion’s den, he said without looking at her face.

Chapter Three

Don’t you mean wolves’ den? she asked, lifting the flap on the back of the wagon. She was looking forward to the company of other women of her kind. She’d never had the chance to be around girls her own age. Actually, she’d never been around anyone her own age. The occasional delivery of supplies to her home didn’t count in her mind. Sheltered didn’t begin to describe the sum experience of her life.

He gripped her hand, supporting her as she climbed inside. Yeah, that’s right, he muttered, dropping the flap and disappearing from her view.

Lion’s den. What could he mean by that sarcastic statement? She wondered. If he was as ornery and rude to the other women as he’d been to her, they’d probably given him hell too.

Mali stood on the back of the wagon, feeling trepidation creep through her as she took in her new surroundings and companions. The driver called to his horses and snapped the reins, sending the wagon into motion. Her knees buckled, threatening to send her careening backward outside. She caught herself on the framework, gripping the post tight as she held her footing.

A dozen lovely youthful faces met her gaze as she righted herself and stepped further in. Cushion covered benches ran the distance on either side filled to the brim with women’s bottoms taking every available seat. Beneath the benches were tapestry bags she presumed belonged to the women. They’d been allowed to bring belongings. The fact that she’d been uprooted from her home and allowed to retrieve nothing, not even her shoes, sent a fresh outrage shooting through her.

Can I have a seat? she asked the crowd in general.

She received no response to her question.

Mali looked them over, but no one seemed willing to scoot over enough to give her a place to sit, and she didn’t feel like instigating a fight. Shrugging, she sat on the floorboards amongst their feet.

Someone snickered.

Mali trained her eyes on the source, finding a brunette with startling green eyes staring down her pointed nose at her. Mali glanced side to side and decided the girl’s snobbish attitude was definitely directed towards her. Mali frowned, hugging her knees to her chest as the wagon rocked and swayed down the road. What?

You look like a little dog begging at my feet, the brunette said, spurring the others into laughter.

Mali’s jaw dropped before she remembered to shut her mouth. Excuse me? What’s your problem?

The girl flipped her long silky hair off her chest to rest behind her back then pointed down at her. You. Look at you. Is this the best you have to offer a mate? Your hair is a tangled rat’s nest. You have no shoes, and your clothes are... She wrinkled her nose. ...dirty and old. You smell like a wet dog. Have you been rolling in the—

The girl didn’t get to finish her sentence.

Red filled Mali’s vision. Her heart pounded with viciousness. She launched herself from the floor, grabbing two handfuls of the bitch’s hair as she yanked her head down to the floor and kicked the air out of her gut. The girl gasped for breath then screeched. She clawed at Mali’s hands, but Mali had a death grip. She wasn’t letting go unless hair turned loose from the bitch’s scalp.

Stop! she screamed. My hair! Somebody get this bitch off me!

Mali couldn’t talk. Words eluded her. She knew if she was going to survive the group, they had to either fear or respect her. She’d take fear any day.

Half-hearted blows landed on her back. Another woman yanked her hair, but Mali had a tough scalp and bloodlust giving her the strength to ignore the nuisances.

Adolpho! Jaxon! the brunette shrieked, clawing into Mali’s hands.

Get off her! someone else yelled.

Someone stop the wagon!

As if realizing they weren’t having a simple disagreement, the wagon rocked violently to a halt. Mali and the brunette pitched forward, landing on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Mali rolled on top, slamming the girl’s head into the floor.

Bitch, she hissed, gouging Mali’s arms until blood dripped from her skin in little rivers. The crescent shaped holes healed slowly, leaving dried stains on her skin.

Fine slippers stomped the floor boards as the other women scattered and jumped out of the way of their rolling bodies. Dust rose, choking Mali. She coughed, releasing a hank of hair to punch the girl repeatedly in the face. She thought if she flattened that pert little nose maybe she wouldn’t be so quick to look down it at her again.

What the hell? A masculine voice ripped through the dust storm clouding Mali.

Strong hands encircled her waist, hurtling her through the air and out the back of the wagon. The mob of women piled out, surrounding Mali, Jaxon, Adolpho, and the brunette. The other guards wisely remained seated atop their horses, watching the fray with smiles on their faces.

The brunette lunged to slap Mali. Jaxon lifted his forearm, blocking her strike.

The girl launched into pitiful princess mode with the men watching her. She pouted and cried, though no tears fell from her eyes. She ripped my hair out and ruined my nose! You need to beat her!

Jaxon stood between the combatants, hands on his hips and feet spread wide. You’ll heal, Angelica.

What about my hair? Angelica shrieked, holding up the frazzled ends of her hair.

Mali dared a grin at the girl, earning a glare in return.

It’ll grow back, Jaxon muttered, tight lipped as if hiding a smile. Now, who started the fight?

Angelica pointed at Mali. She did. She can’t take a joke.

Jaxon glanced at Mali. Is this true?

Mali crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin. I’m not going to take abuse from anyone. Her mama should have taught her not to taunt a caged beast.

Jaxon stroked his rough jaw, tilting his head as he studied over the women. We can’t have you two tearing each other apart on the ride to the festival.

Well, I’m not riding with her back here. None of us are. She’s an animal! Angelica said.

Figured as much. That’s as good a solution as any. Come on, you can ride with me, Mali. Everyone else back inside the wagon. We need to make some good time. We’ve had enough delays, Jaxon said, giving Mali an admonishing look.

Mali widened her eyes, attempting to appear innocent. She couldn’t help the fact that the other women had formed a clique and shut her out the moment she stepped foot under the canvas.

Everyone piled back inside. Adolpho took his seat at the front, and Mali walked ahead of Jaxon back to his horse. She’d rather ride with the asshole than a bunch of vipers any day of the week.

Jaxon lifted her onto his horse. When she was settled, he stuck his foot in the stirrup and launched himself up with a soft grunt. From his action, she could see his knee pained him.

The trees shook their limbs, sounding like baby rattles. Dead leaves whirled across the road. Her mood seemed reflected in the dark gray clouds roiling through the air above, turning the sky to slate.

I thought it was going to rain. My knee’s been acting up, Jaxon said, settling behind her on the horse and taking the reins in his hands. The bay horse’s skin twitched with the change in weather. He clicked his tongue and shook the reins, urging the horse forward. The small caravan followed suit.

She’d never ridden a horse before, and the beast’s nervousness made her own nerves react much the same. What’s wrong with your knee? she asked.

Jaxon snaked a hand around her waist, holding her tight against his chest. Got taken by the Bear Clan. About ten years or so ago.

Mali frowned. He wasn’t very forthcoming. That’s it?

I don’t like ta talk about it much, he said.

Well, it’s not like we have anything else to talk about.

He sighed. Bear Clan came up before Nicodemus had finished walling in Capitol City. I was captain of the guard then and responsible for everyone’s safety. We took down the first wave with silver tipped arrows, but then the Grizzlies and Kodiaks came. The arrows hit them like mosquitos. A squad of our men were surrounded with no way to get out. I went in with another squad to break a line for them to escape, but managed to get myself captured instead.

Mali put a hand on her chest, glancing at him over her shoulder. His face looked like stone. What happened? she asked, her tone soft.

They slaughtered most of us. Held me for weeks as an example, torturing me. They fed me wolf’s bane to keep me from healing or shifting. That’s why my face looks like hamburger and I’ll never win any races with this knee of mine. I also lost my mate Jen.

He said it matter-of-fact, but there was an undertone that spoke volumes of the pain he’d suffered. She wanted to question him more, but sensed she’d drawn as much information out of him as he was willing to give.

They rode for a while in silence as the weather deteriorated around them. She watched the trees twist their branches as if bound in some bizarre, magical dance. Mali regretted the fight with Angelica now that she had to endure the weather with the men.

With only a few hours distancing her from her family, she already missed the soft, comforting warmth of her mother’s bosom and lap. Grown as she was, she still enjoyed resting her head on her lap and having her mama comb and braid her hair. Sadness permeated her thoughts. Her eyes watered. She rubbed them with the backs of her hands before grabbing the pommel again.

As if he could see her face, he said, You shouldn’t antagonize the other women. They’ll make it bad for you at the festival.

I’m not crying about them. Though I do wish I could ride in comfort. That would never happen back there. They know I’m different—not one of them.

Being different has its perks, he said.

Oh? Like what?

When I figure that out, I’ll tell you, he grumbled.

Mali couldn’t stifle the laugh that erupted from her. I think you’re trying to cheer me up.

Why would I do that? You haven’t been anythin’ but trouble for me.

Somewhere beneath that scarred, hard exterior, I think there’s a soft heart. You wouldn’t have risked your life for your men if there wasn’t.

Jaxon made no response. Mali wondered if she’d offended him, then decided she probably had. The man was as sensitive as an achy tooth and just as worrisome.

Wind whipped through her hair, bringing the first stinging pellets of rain. Wonderful, she said, looking up at the ferocious sky.

Hang on. Hold these, he said, handing her the reins.

Mali accepted them, feeling a moment of terror to have control of the horse. She gripped the reins tight as he dug in a side pouch off his saddle and withdrew a brown cloak. He whipped it around his shoulders.

Get inside, he said, holding the edges open for her.

Feeling silly, but wanting shelter from the rain, she leaned close to his chest until her back melded to the sculpted plains. He closed his arms around her, allowing her a small hole for her to poke her face through to breathe. She chuckled to herself, imagining that they must look like some two headed monster, but she welcomed it for the rain began to pour in sheets.

Can’t we stop and take shelter? she asked.

Not if we’re going to make it in time for the festival. I thought we’d get to hunt for fresh meat by noon, but we’ll probably wait closer to nightfall.

How long will we be on the road?

Mali felt him shift as if working a kink from a muscle. Until tomorrow at the earliest. Are you eager to find a mate?

She wrinkled her nose, holding the edges of the cloak closed against the rain. She moved her head back, peering from inside the waterproof fabric. Inside, his masculine scent filled the air creating a heady perfume that intrigued her nose. Her body warmed with the matching heat of his. Something niggled in her belly, making it cramp with his nearness. Mali chose to ignore the strange, unfamiliar feeling.

I don’t want a mate. I’m only going because you’ve forced me to, she said, wondering if he could hear her muffled voice.

He grunted. You’re the only one then. The others are out to get the wealthiest members of the clan.

I just want to go back to my home.

Maybe you’ll be ready next year then. If you’re lucky and no one chooses you, he added.

The rain intensified. She could feel it pounding against the cloak, making a tapping sound like a drum. Tired of slogging through the rain, Jaxon halted his horse.

Let’s shelter here under these trees, he yelled to the men.

Jaxon guided his horse off the road to the copse