Chapter One
ELSKE
Iheard him first.
Every sound carried through the rotting timbers of the dilapidated cottage lost deep in the forest, nearly at the border with the Crows’ kingdom, far from my father’s and his lapdogs’ ears and snouts.
And those sounds were savage snarls, viciously growled curses, the unmistakable thump of fists on flesh and the ragged struggle of the male Matthis and Gerhard had dragged here.
My throat was dry as I pressed my palms against my tense abdomen, just once, before lacing steady fingers together. Magic tingled under my skin, ready to protect. Ready, I took the shadowed corner of the dusty room, bracing myself.
The door crashed open.
By the Mother’s light.
The size of him... the strength...His back was a wall of muscle and scars, dirt ground into his skin.
His arms were thick and corded, smeared with who knew what, built to seize and hold.
His legs were heavy and braced, made for pursuit and impact.
The muscles of his neck bunched, veins hard beneath the skin.
He must have tried to bite through the chains because the wolfsbane in them, meant to choke his wolf and douse his fire, had bled from the ties and burned his wrists raw.
And yet it still took Gerhard, Matthis, and one of his Prowlers to drag him inside, his body lashing like a wildfire.
The Prowler slammed into the wall with a grunt as the male bucked; Matthis nearly lost his grip as the he twisted, forcing him to dig in harder.
The scent of blood, char, and the wildest part of the forest wafted to me.
Gerhard followed close behind and it was he, the Commander of the City, who spoke first. “My Lady.”
The male snarled in answer, jerking hard enough to send the Prowler sprawling in the dirt while Matthis wrestled for purchase.
With a growl mean enough that it always kept his army in line, Gerhard seized another wolfsbane chain and snapped it around the prisoner’s throat.
He fought it, gods he fought, but Gerhard had seen too many battles to falter, and his movements were sharpened by the merciless efficiency only war teaches.
He bore down, braced his shoulders, until the lock clicked and the magic bled through.
The male dropped to his knees. Not with a yelp or a whimper, though the pain had to be excruciating.
He went down with a snarl of defiance.
Gerhard eyed him, slowly shaking his head. “This one’s too wild,” he said flatly, “He’s lost to the wolf. Don’t expect more than blood and trouble.”
He might be right. The wolf seemed to have claimed him, and reason would say to end it. But the way he fell, not broken but burning, caught at me like a thorn.
The male was heaving now, head bowed, muscles tense as if waiting for the smallest chance to strike, despite the chains and the guards.
“He has enough wolfsbane on him to down an angry boar,” Matthis said lightly.
“And even with that, this moon-cursed dog tore through three of my Prowlers.” His green eyes slid to Gerhard.
“And you can stop gloating. We’lltalk again when your lot solves something with finesse and brains. Oh wait. They don’t have any.”
“Your pups are meant for shadows and gossip, not...” Gerhard tipped his clean-shaven chin toward the prisoner, whose soft growl had never let up. “Whatever this is.”
I took a step forward, then another, but my eyes couldn’t leave that male.
All that wolfsbane, and he was half-shifted.
His limbs were slightly wrong, patches of hair sprouting through skin where his short tunic, nothing but tatters and filthier than a tavern rug, had ripped and left him bare.
His ears were too long. I’d bet good coin his eyes glowed gold and his canines were already out.
My wolf prowled, restless, intrigued, as she sensed the power, the brutal strength buried beneath the complete wreck that was this male.
If anyone had ever had a chance, it was someone like him.
The thought boomed into me, but I couldn’t let my hopes rise.
Not yet. Because he was a wreck. “Where did you find him?” I asked Matthis.
He wasn’t from the city or from any nearby village.
Someone like him would have made himself known, and I had ears on the ground and in the wind.
“By pure chance,” Matthis said, tightening his grip like he was holding a rowdy drunk instead of a wild beast. “He went and got himself caught in an iron jaw in the western part of the forest.”
My throat clenched. My father’s traps for rogues and strays weren’t made to hold. They were made to kill. To maim first and let the wolfsbane do the rest. The fact that this male still breathed was testament enough to his strength. “How bad off was he when you pulled him out?”
“Oh no, no. Don’t give us credit. We didn’t pull him out. We found him passed out after he tore the damned thing off himself. Tore. It. Off.” Matthis gave me a look, eyebrows climbing as if to say Can you believe this nonsense?
I had grown up in this pack, under the constant weight of my father’s cruelty and brother’s depravity.
Not much surprised me anymore. And when something did, fear and self-preservation had schooled me enough to hide it.
But here, with my brothers in all but blood, there was no stopping my mouth from falling open, my eyes going wide on the male. “He did what?”
“The trap was broken clean in two,” Matthis said, almost idly, like he was recounting market tattle.
“Left in a puddle of blood. His. We must’ve just missed the show, because he was passed out a few feet away in another puddle of blood.
Still his. Picturesque, really.” He shifted his stance, tightening his hold when the male jerked.
“Still breathing though, so I thought you’d want a look.
Trouble was, he came to on the way here, and let’s just say he didn’t much care for the hospitality.
I had to call the brawny Commander.” He gave a casual shrug. “So. Here we are.”
Here we were indeed.
Something was amiss, though. His strength was obviously what had kept him alive until now.
And yet... I frowned, unable to drag my eyes from the tense cords of his muscles while my wolf was fully tuned to the low, constant growl vibrating from his chest. They’d found him unconscious.
But then he’d woken up and fought. Except.
.. “How did he fight you?” I asked Matthis.
“After you got him. You said he fought. How?”
“I could give you a few visuals of how he whooped our asses, but it wouldn’t be nice.” He shrugged. “So I’ll sum it up with one word: rage.”
That. That was what didn’t sit right. “He didn’t use his fire?”
“No. Which worked out well for us because if his fire’s as strong as the rest of him, we’d be having a very different conversation. Actually, we wouldn’t be having one at all, because I’d be in pieces somewhere.”
“Why,” I murmured, more to myself than to them. “Why didn’t he?”
“It might be because his wolf had taken over,” Gerhard said at last. “I see it sometimes with the stronger soldiers in my units. A strong male is a strong wolf. And a strong wolf can be difficult to rein back.”
I nodded as his words made sense. Fire wasn’t strength of muscle; it came from a place of focus and relentless training, almost the opposite of the wolf. Wolf and fire balanced each other, completed us. But a wolf left unchecked might even turn against the magic.
And yet... nothing?
My weak wolf felt his as powerfully as my magic, one of the strongest in the pack, sensed his fire. He was blaze made flesh. And still, not even a spark? It made no sense.
In front of me stood—no, slumped, half-collapsed, half-shifted, yet still raging with what little consciousness he had—the most powerful wolf I had ever sensed.
I still didn’t know why he didn’t use it, but if his magic matched, or even slightly outstripped, my father’s and brother’s.
.. then... then maybe... I had to make sure, though.
“Take off his chains,” I said to Gerhard.
He swallowed, his only sign of surprise. And worry. “My lady?”
“Take off his chains, Gerhard. Please.”
“May I speak freely?”
I smiled. “Always. You know that.”
“Then I think this is a horrible idea.”
“I understand the risks, but I have no way of knowing if he’s willing to help us if he’s half gone.”
Matthis chuckled. “I think being half gone is his baseline. I mean, if he shifts, I’m fairly sure we can hold him off long enough for you to run.
” He gave the male he held a theatrical once-over.
“What I’m not sure of is whether the three of us will make it out with our fur still on our backs.
Still. It’s a risk I’d gladly take if this–him–can help us kick Vargan’s and Skarr’s tails. ”
Gerhard shot him a look vicious enough to make stones bleed, a warning at the dangers of being heard disrespecting the Alpha and his son. “Your mouth always runs faster than your brain.”
“And yet,” Matthis said with a big smile, “I still manage to keep both ahead of you.”
I bit back a smile.
Their push and pull, Matthis’s irreverence jabbing at Gerhard’s overprotectiveness, was as familiar to me as my hatred for my blood kin.
Comforting, even, in its predictability.
That familiarity was why I didn’t flinch when Matthis failed to count me in the hypothetical fight.
I’d made peace long ago with the fact that my wolf was smaller, weaker.
My strength lay elsewhere, in my magic and in my mind.
Which was why, when the Commander of the City Territory and the top wolf among the Prowlers–the pack’s elite spies and shadows–both warned it could get ugly, I knew better than to dismiss it.
“Alright,” I said at last. “Take off the chain at his neck. Then all of you shift, so you’re ready if need comes. ”