4. Gunnar
Chapter 4
Gunnar
I look at the snoring buffoon they’ve got me roomed with and finish zipping up his bags. He’s got nothing more interesting than a joint, but at least I know he’s harmless. Slipping out of the room, I spiral down the stairs of the four floors that make up the guard wing of the estate.
This fucking place is massive. I’m talking about a fairytale castle like in the books I used to read to my sister, Izzy, when we were little. This place has enough books and old stuff hanging on the walls to be a museum. I never imagined what it would look like if I ever rigged my way here, but whatever I could have thought of wouldn’t have been this.
The lead trainer, Brooks, gave us a no-fuss tour when he walked us to security to get outfitted. After that, he left us with the housekeeper to get settled. We’re supposed to be sleeping before our first training shift.
Like that shit is happening. The first rule of not dying in a new place is to know the exits. Rule number two? Find the kitchen.
I wanted this gig. Hell, I traded a councilman for the opportunity after he found himself in a tight spot after a bad bet on a fight. That doesn’t mean shit here won’t be full tilt either, especially for someone like me. Have they ever even trained a wolf who can’t fully shift? It never came up with the councilman.
The staircase ends at a hallway that leads to a series of staff common areas. In the dining hall, the regular guard members are finishing up breakfast. A few wave, but no one pays much attention. I stuff some fresh fruit in my bag andweave behind the buffet line. As I duck into the bustling stone kitchen, a human female carrying loaves of bread almost sideswipes me.
I hardly step out of her way, too busy gawking at the space. This is some serious time-travel shit. Herbs hang from the rafters along with copper pots and pans. There’s a huge stone fireplace I could walk in, and the entire room smells of flowers, sugar, and bacon. It’s an oddly satisfying combination. It’s also trippy. I swear it’s like knights and dragons should be dueling on the lawn.
That’s when the reality of the situation hits me. I mean, like, I knew. But I didn’t know. You know?
She’s a fucking dragon, and this is her home. Of course the shit is old. She’s gotta be… I can’t even count that high.
An older grizzled wolf flaps a towel in my face. “If you enter my kitchen, it’s to work.”
I blink at him, trying for innocently confused. “I’m a new guard member. I got a little lost. Can you?—”
“Put you to work? Yes. That’ll teach you to snoop around when you should be getting shut-eye.”The burly wolf pushes me with a firm hand toward a sink and possibly the world’s entire supply of potatoes. “Clean and peel. See me when you’re done.”
I weigh my options but decide the staff of this place will probably be better allies than the recruits. After all, my goal is to get a permanent gig. The other recruits are a bunch of pack alphas’ sons, used to rigged fights and doing what daddy says. They don’t have anything to prove to these people. But I do.
It takes two hours of peeling potatoes and the addition of chopping celery to earn me the nod of approval. The older wolf waves me over to his station, where he’s prepping chickens to roast.
“What’s your name?” he asks, voice booming like thunder.
“Gunnar.”
“I’m Henry, the lead chef.” He doesn’t stop his task; his motions are practiced as he prepares to cook enough for a whole damn village. “Why are you here, Gunnar? What pack do you represent?”
I look around the busy kitchen. While I worked, I noticed it’s full of just as many humans as wolves. And a lot of them are younger females, which is a total mindfuck. It’s been a decade since I’ve seen so many women.
Nobody pulled rank. The wolves didn’t fight. It’s weird, but also kinda nice? Like ‘I could get used to this fairytale living’ kinda nice.
I shrug at Henry, unsure what he wants me to say. “Same as any wolf. Trying to make my way. I entered the tournament, and Councilman Lars petitioned for me when I won.”
The old wolf cuts his eyes at me. “Then you’re from the Outskirts.” It isn’t a question, and the word Outskirts is said in a way that lets me know he’s been there.
I nod anyway. “Yes, sir. The hollow of the Western Ridge Pack first before we were sent to the Outskirts of the North Pass.”
He harrumphs. “Underground fights? The ones against ferals?”
Again, they aren’t questions. Nobody coming out of the Outskirts is doing so without fighting.
“Did you need anything else? I really should get some rest before training,” I say instead of answering.
Henry stops what he’s doing, turning his assessing gaze on me. “This ain’t the underground. The dragon runs a tight house, and the witch has eyes everywhere. No thieving. No fighting. If you need something, ask. If you’re hungry, eat. But stay out of my kitchen unless you plan to take on a second job. And don’t go snooping. The witch’s wards will keep you out anyway.”
I open my mouth to explain that I wasn’t snooping— I totally was snooping —but before I can lie, his eyes flash with his wolf.
“Mind your business, keep your mouth shut, and do your job,” he barks. “If you manage that, I’ll see about finding you a spot somewhere on staff if it isn’t the guard.” He turns back to his food, but for the second time, I simply gawk.He dismisses me with a nod. “Grab that bag there on your way out.”
I take the sack and slip out the way I came. This time, I don’t manage to get caught stupid-eyed as I catalog the dragon’s home. I don’t get far though. Whenever I try to enter any area beyond the courtyard, I come up against an invisible wall.
Resigned, I find my way onto one of the upper landing decks. It’s already afternoon, and the spring sun has made the stone ledge warm. I lean against it and finally let myself look through the bag Henry sent from the kitchen.
It’s stuffed with food. Two sandwiches of thick-ass bread filled with meat and cheese. Fresh apples and oranges. A pastry. Popped corn. It’s more than I’ve eaten in days, and I force myself to eat only the sandwiches and leave the rest for later.
Overhead, a searing cry scares the shit out of me. A shadow passes over the sun, and I look up and up. A real-life, honest-to-gods dragon soars in the sky. I watch, mesmerized, as the dragon turns and completes another loop. It’s hard to see her except when the light hits, then it’s like trying to look at the sun. She’s too beautiful, too full of light to truly comprehend.
For a moment, I’m hit with a burst of excitement before it gives way to a flash of grief. I wish Izzy could have seen this.
I look around the stone room. Lights splash in strategic crimson on cages lining the perimeter. The stone walls are lined with various instruments of torture: whips, floggers, and ball gags.
And, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve come to the sex dungeon part of this training.
I fought at a place like this once. Got the best blow job of my life in a bathroom after. I don’t know whether my fantasies or my nightmares are about to come to life, but I can only guess this is part of the training to resist a rut. It doesn’t matter what the fuck it is, it only matters that I make it through.
It’s already past midnight, and my ass is tired. I want to hurry this show along.
Brooks spent the first few hours with us this afternoon assessing our skills in subduing guard members trained to act like ferals. As a ring fighter, that’s my bread and butter. Nothing pays better than going up against the moon-mad. The pretty boys, not so much. They got their asses handed to them more than once.
Sucks to suck.
Next, it was strength training and guided sessions with wolves on specific attack and defense skills. Hours of drills left us weak and exhausted.
I’m pretty sure that’s part of their test. They get our asses worn down, then see how we handle it. My guess is the older wolf who watches but never speaks won’t let anyone near the keys to the castle until we’ve passed whatever tests he cooks up. I would agree that’s smart if my thighs weren’t screaming at me to sit the fuck down.
We haven’t been told shit yet about the property, the club, or the actual duties of the guard—only that we will be training to resist the rut. Alphas don’t even mature into their rut cycle until, like, thirty and all the guards are under that by the looks of it. So how exactly is that gonna work?
The chatter among the recruits is that half of us will go home the first week. That’s why they take on so many more than they need. But after the initial shock of seeing me fight half-shifted instead of as a full wolf, none of the guards or trainers batted an eye. Now that I know it isn’t an automatic out, one of those guard spots is mine.
Around me, the recruits whisper nervously as Brooks steps back and a woman in a colorful, flowing dress steps forward.
“I’m Vandera, and this is the first part of your training to withstand the rut call,” she says. Her voice is melodic, almost trancelike, and I wonder if the renowned witch simply oozes magic. She looks harmless, but the power surrounding her is undeniable.“As guard members, you’ll be expected to spend much of your time in Moon Lake Valley surrounded by rut companions and wolves entering or in full rut. You’ll also be expected not to join.”
So far, the witch isn’t saying anything that isn’t common knowledge, but a rumble of voices sounds through the group of recruits.
The witch raises her finger, and purple sparks shoot across the room, lighting the candles hanging from giant chandeliers overhead.
My eyes widen at her blatant use of magic. Most villages have a healer who is trained in using herbs and crystals. Few are powerful enough to cast spells, let alone use magic for something so mundane. The display of power has the group of wolves falling silent, all eyes on the woman in the center of the room.
Her sweet voice hides her steely command. “You’ll spend the remainder of the night here. This exercise is to gauge your natural control point. The environment in the dungeon will mimic that of Frenzy, and our trained rut companions will try to entice you as they do patrons of the bar.
“Don’t touch the cages. Don’t engage with any other wolf in the room—neither to fuck nor fight. Permanent guards will monitor and remove wolves deemed unable to withstand the temptation. Those who emerge in the morning will be expected at the training grounds tomorrow afternoon. Good luck, alphas.”
Wolves hurl questions, but she simply turns and takes Brooks's arm. He leans in and kisses her forehead fondly before tucking her under his arm and walking through the guards stationed at the back of the room.
Interesting.
The silent older wolf follows the pair, and the closing of the wooden door is ominous. Behind us, another set of doors opens, and the room fills with the sweet scent of omega perfume as men and women in robes file in and climb into the cages before the guards lock them in.
What the actual fuck?
Blaring club music, enough to stun and aggravate even my wolf instincts, pulses through the room. No doubt the music is meant to rile up our wolves and force them to the surface.
The robes come off, and the men and women dance.Their hands roam over oil-slicked skin as they pinch their nipples, rub their cocks, and tease their clits. Guttural moans sound, one after another. The scent of omega swells, permeating the air in a rush of sex and pheromones so thick I can taste it.
My dick goes hard, and my teeth ache. I force myself to look up, tearing my eyes away from the debauched sight only to see small tendrils of purple smoke coming from the witch’s candles.
That shit is spelled. But with what?
Alpha pheromones, spicy and close to the peppery tang of rut, waft into the mix.Wolves howl, some of the alphas in the room already jerking their cocks.
I rip off a section of my shirt and stuff two fabric balls in my nose, trying to dampen the overpowering scent. Looking around the room, I find the spot farthest from the cages but still back from the crowd of recruits. Already I can tell some of these wolves won’t make it out of here.
The piercing sound of a snarl draws my eye as two of the recruits shift, biting and snapping at one another as they try to get into the cage of a woman finger-fucking herself to the beat. The guards don’t hesitate, fucking shooting the wolves with some kind of darts.
Guess that’s two less fuckers I’ve gotta beat.
The wolves fall to the floor as another fight breaks out, this time with half a dozen wolves.
I take my shirt off and tie it around my mouth and nose. It’s gonna be a long night.