Wolf Gift (Outcast Pack #7)

Prologue

There were few things Penrith hated more than search and rescues, in part because half the time, it wasn’t a rescue; it was a body recovery. And he didn’t expect anything to be different this time.

The hunters had taken three wolves over the last couple of weeks, one of whom was a Coven lawyer—though that had been planned. As much as those things could be. If they lost him, they were fucked. Justin knew too much about everything and wasn’t a trained agent; he was simply the profile the hunters liked to take, which was gay wolf shifter. While they needed to find out where the hunters took those they captured, having one of their own taken raised the stakes.

The other two wolves had been taken a few weeks ago. Like the previous shifters who'd been captured, they’d been taken from their homes. As far as the Coven could tell, neither had a connection to the Outcast Pack. Though one had attacked Con and the other was part of Sam’s family pack. Why hunters had targeted them, they had yet to figure out. That bothered Penrith because if they didn’t know why certain wolves were being targeted, they wouldn’t be able to protect those who needed it.

Hopefully, after this job, they wouldn’t have to worry about hunters again.

He moved silently through the bush, aware of the other agents now swarming the house, stable, and other outbuildings. Being a part of the raid wasn’t his job tonight. His job was to find the wolves.

Or any other of the hunters’ victims who were still alive.

He may not have their blood, which made things easier, but if they were alive, he could find them because their bodies were full of blood. His magic was a little like a water witch’s in that he could sense the large volume of blood in a person, and while he didn’t feel the electrical pulses of the heart, he did feel the tide of their pulse. A steady rhythm that drew him closer.

There were other large animals in the bush: kangaroos, a few wild dogs, and, more distantly, probably in a nearby paddock, some horses. But they all felt very different from a human. He stopped and reached out again with his magic because wolves and wild dogs were very similar, though wolves were larger.

He wasn’t worried about being attacked. Anything that foolish wouldn’t live long. Controlling a being’s blood meant he controlled their body.

Were they wild dogs or wolves he was sensing?

He was almost about to investigate, but something fainter…weaker, caught his attention. To most people, it might have been nothing, but Penrith had been trusting his magic for a long time, and if that’s where it was leading him, that’s where he was going.

He followed the weak pulse, and as he got closer, he built up a mental image of the body he was tracking. Blood was very good at providing an accurate image because of the way it reached everywhere.

He didn’t like what he sensed and the picture his magic was building in his mind. It was going to be bad.

While he prepared himself mentally as much as he could, the sight made his stomach turn. He hadn’t thrown up on a job in about ten years.

The wolf was chained to a tree in the middle of a clearing. He lay on his side on the verge of dying, and Penrith wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do. The wolf was so weak that even a healer might kill him.

Would that be a kindness?

Because the chain wasn’t around his neck, it ran through one of his hind legs, and from the looks of the wound he had attempted to chew through his leg.

Penrith glanced away and sucked in a breath. He held it for a couple of seconds.

He was sure the wolf knew he was there.

Maybe he didn’t care, or maybe he didn’t have the energy to do anything but wait to die.

Penrith took another couple of breaths before stepping closer. “I’m here to help. I’m with the Coven.”

What that help looked like, he still wasn’t sure. He sent a message to the head of the operation, tagging his location and letting them know he had found a seriously injured wolf. Depending on how things went at the main house and if they had recovered Justin, it might be a while before help arrived.

The wolf opened his eyes and gave a small whine.

As much as he wanted to put his hand on the wolf to get a better feel for the extent of his injuries, he refrained. The first thing he did was pick the padlock that held the chain through the wolf and around the tree.

What kind of sick fuck did something like this?

The same kind of sick fuck who thought hunting shifters was good fun.

As the chain moved, the wolf whimpered.

“Sorry.” There was no good way to remove it, and he couldn’t leave the chain where it was, so he made it fast.

The wolf whimpered, and Penrith grimaced.

With the chain removed, he knelt beside the wolf and put his hand over the wound. The wolf didn’t lift its head to watch him.

None of the wolf’s wounds had been immediately fatal, but a few days of slowly bleeding out without food, water, and medical attention had almost done the job. The wolf’s other back leg was broken. Even if he shifted to attempt to get free as a man, he wouldn’t have been able to run away.

Anger bubbled and threatened to spill over. He wanted to destroy the hunters’ hearts slowly so they felt the same pain they had caused others.

But that wouldn’t help the wolf.

That left him two options: sit and wait and do nothing besides hold his paw and pat his head, in which case he gave the wolf less than six hours to live, or he used his magic.

He wasn’t a healer and couldn’t fix any of the wounds. However, he could give the wolf more blood, strengthen his pulse, and keep the wolf’s heart beating if he had to.

Penrith pulled his pocketknife out of his pocket and shoved up the sleeve of his black shirt. His arms were covered in the marks of his magic use because cutting palms was fucking stupid.

“You’re in bad shape. You know that. At the moment, a healer’s magic will kill you.” He flicked open the blade of the knife. “I’m a blood witch, so I can use my blood and magic to help you.” He’d helped shifters and witches in the past when jobs went sideways. “If you agree.”

They always agreed. No one wanted to die.

He moved around to the wolf’s head to look him in the eye.

The wolf watched him with a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

“This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to make a cut on my arm, and you’ll lick the blood up, which is you agreeing that I can use my magic to help you. I will then be able to access all of your body.” He could’ve let a drop of his blood fall into the open wound, and he had done that for injured agents, but then they had consented prior to the mission. This was different.

He ran the blade over his forearm, barely noticing the sting as the magic rushed to the surface. The cut wasn’t deep, but it didn’t need to be. He knew how much he needed to spill.

The wolf’s nostrils twitched.

He was hungry, thirsty, and wounded. Most people wouldn’t stick their hand near him. Penrith offered his arm. “Your choice, wolf.”

All the wolf needed to do was stick out his tongue and take the drop that rolled over Penrith’s forearm.

“If you don’t consent to magic, I will sit with you until you pass.” Which would be before dawn.

The wolf gave his arm a pathetic lick, but it was enough.

Enough for Penrith to realize something was very wrong.

He drew in a breath, clamping down on the pain in his thigh and ankle. He shouldn’t be feeling that. That was the wolf’s pain. “What the fuck?”

Who are you?

The wolf’s thought echoed in Penrith’s mind as the realization tumbled through him. He rocked back onto his heels. The wolf was his familiar.

His fated mate.

He tipped his head back and laughed. “You twisted fuckers.”

His life was now bound to the wolf’s. To a man he didn’t know. Which one was he?

It didn’t matter now.

He gripped the wolf’s jaw and looked into his eyes. “I’m Penrith. And you’re not killing me, so buckle up as you’re surviving until help arrives.”