Garrick
Imani and Omari had been breathing in this world for six weeks. Every night, I slipped through Mercy’s window like a shadow, watching my children sleep. Their tiny chests rose and fell, their scents were all milk and new life, twining together in the dark.
My son. My daughter. They belonged with me, with the pack. Not hidden away in this human house with a mother who didn’t yet understand our dynamics. I resented her kin being able to see our children freely while I snuck around like a thief in the night.
Tonight, I lingered too long.
My fingers traced Imani’s cheek, and the downy softness of her skin made my chest ache. I should have left. But the sound of Mercy stirring in the next room froze me mid-movement.
Too late.
I set Imani down beside Omari and melted into the shadows behind the door just as it creaked open.
Her scent hit me like a physical blow—sweet milk, yes, but beneath it, something more. Something wild and mature. My bite had done more than mark her mine. Yet several full moon cycles had passed, and she hadn’t transformed.
Mercy stepped inside, her silhouette haloed by the hallway light. Then she stopped. Her head tilted. Her nostrils flared as she rapidly sniffed the air several times.
A sound rumbled from her throat—low, rolling, wrong.
Not a wolf’s growl.
The hair on my neck stood on end. Something was off.
She took another step, her body coiled tight. The air thickened with the scent of her fury, her fear.
She knew I was here.
The air left my lungs when Mercy’s spine arched into an unnatural position until the crack resounded around the room.
One second, she was human. All fury and flashing eyes, and the next, her body twisted.
Her fingers curled, nails blackening, lengthening into hooked claws. A guttural groan tore from her throat as her shoulders wrenched backwards, bones popping. Golden fur sprouted in tufts along her spine, coarse and wild, spreading like wildfire down her limbs.
She collapsed onto all fours, panting, her breath coming in ragged, wet gasps.
Then the real pain began.
Her jaw cracked, elongating, teeth sharpening into brutal points. Her hips snapped wider, her frame swelling with dense muscle, her shadow stretching monstrous across the nursery walls.
The sounds, gods, the sounds. They were wet, tearing, tendons reforming, a low, rolling growl building in her chest.
Then it became a laugh.
Not human. Not wolf.
Hyena.
When she lifted her head, her eyes were molten gold, pupils slit like a cat’s. Her lips peeled back, revealing a nightmare of serrated teeth, saliva dripping in thick strands. She was as big as Valor, but her broad build looked stronger. To say she was pissed was an understatement.
A snarl ripped from her, half roar, half cackle and then she lunged.
I barely dodged, her claws gouging the doorframe where my head had been. Wood splintered. The twins stirred, but I didn’t have time to check on them before she was on me again, her weight slamming me into the wall. Her breath was hot, rancid with raw meat and fury.
“Mine,” she rasped, but her voice was distorted, inhuman.
I ran, ignoring Valor’s need to stand his ground.
She gave chase, her gait uneven but terrifyingly fast, her laughter echoing behind me like a hunting song. I barely made it to my truck, her claws scraping paint as I peeled away.
The pack compound was in sight when I finally let myself breathe. I triggered her inner animal by becoming a threat to the twins. If Mercy’s hyena was this strong now, what would her full moon cycle be like? I shuddered at the thought.
No, she wasn't a wolf. The moon wouldn’t affect her.
She was not human, but why had she smelled like one?
I hoped that Shaya would have the answers.
◆◆◆
The scent of fire and incense sticks surrounded me as I tried to process what Shaya was telling me. Our mate was a hybrid werehyena.
“You knew,” I said, flatly, feeling betrayed.
Shaya didn't flinch. She never did. Her gnarled fingers stirred a steaming cup of something that smelled like rotting flowers.
“Oh, don't pout,” she chided, as if scolding a pup. “If I'd left her drowning in wolf scent, she would've torn out everybody's throats by now.”
The image flashed behind my eyes—Mercy's golden stare, her too-wide jaw unhinging—
“Yet you activated her hyena through your magic,” I raged through clenched teeth.
“Would you rather she fled into the night with your pups? Helpless? Human?” Her nail tapped the cup. “She was always leaving, Alpha. The only question was whether she'd do it as prey...” She paused. “Or predator.”
The truth settled like a stone in my gut.
Damn it, she was right, but I didn’t have to like it.
“What now?” My voice was rough, thoughts spinning to Imani and Omari—their tiny fingers, their milky scent. My chest ached.
Shaya’s grin was all teeth.
“What now?” she echoed, mocking. “You do what any male with sense does. You bow to your queen.”
A cackle, wet and wheezing, rattled from her throat.
My lip curled. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.” She leaned forward, as if she were sharing a secret. “After centuries of men thinking their cocks made them kings? Oh yes, Alpha. I’m loving this.”
I groaned, tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling. The wood was old and cracked. Like me. Like this entire godforsaken pack.
Imani’s face flashed behind my eyes. Omari’s quiet coos echoed in my skull.
The ache in my chest sharpened.
Human or hyena, queen or prey—Mercy was still my mate.
And I needed to speak to her.