Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(7)

With the rush of the fight fading, the familiar pang in my chest started twisting, making its presence known again.

I didn’t acknowledge the pain—mentally or physically.

I’d gotten enough looks of sympathy from my Pack over the source of my pain to drive me off mentioning it for the rest of my life.

It was just an unfulfilled mate bond, but they acted as if I was missing half of myself—which was absolutely stupid. You can’t miss someone you’ve never met.

And I hope I never do meet her. The last thing I need is someone chained to me so I have to control my powers every waking hour instead of just during work hours.

I ignored the pain, even when it burrowed into my heart like a parasite. “Pip first saw the wolf,” I said. “She had it mostly handled when I arrived.”

“Ah, in that case, might I begin by speaking with Phillipa?” Hector asked.

“Sure, I’m right here.” Pip spun her daggers around her finger tips as she strolled up to us, an interested light making her green eyes even brighter than usual. “What’s up?”





Chapter 3





Pip





I ambled up to Greyson, Ember, and Hector, taking a moment to glance back over my shoulder at Aeric and Wyatt, who were reassuring the humans.

I smiled and wiggled my fingers at the two little girls, who were watching with big eyes.

“I was wondering if you might be willing to tell what you saw, so I can include it in my report to the Curia Cloisters.” Hector whipped out his phone, ready to take notes.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to say.” I tapped my daggers against my thigh and chewed on my lip. “I was on my way to work when I saw him. I whistled, then tried to stop him, but he kept going for the girls. I didn’t know right away he was feral, but it was pretty obvious once I got closer.”

Ember frowned. “Feral? But we haven’t had a case of that in Wisconsin in years.”

Feral was the term used to describe a werewolf who had entirely forfeited his humanity, and acted as pure animal.

“He was bespelled.” Greyson folded his arms across his chest and peered down at the dead wolf. “Though I’m not sure by who. The scent of the magic is different from anything I’ve smelled before.”

Greyson was tall for a werewolf—even taller than Aeric. While he had wide shoulders, it was the dangerous grace that he held himself with and the sculpt of his muscles that reminded me more of a deadly soldier than the fierce athleticism of a typical wolf.

His hair was a light shade of brown—or maybe a dark shade of blond depending on the lighting—and his eyes were a deep amber color that could strike straight to your heart.

All of that combined with his chiseled facial features and strong jawline, and he was fit for a career as a model.

Since the unlucky day I’d met him, it seemed like it was unfair that he was so freakin’ good looking in addition to being powerful.

Ember discreetly sniffed at the dead wolf, scenting it out for any remnants of the magic.

“Could you sense anything, Phillipa?” Hector asked.

I scratched my nose as I prodded my senses. I could sense other magic—like fae magic and wizard magic—though I couldn’t track it to an individual, but it was harder than sensing werewolves.

I felt a wisp of magic drift off the wolf. It was hard to pin down, but it didn’t have the usual glitter that fae magic produced in my senses, or the steady glow of wizard magic. There was so little of it, tracking it felt like trying to find fleas on a feral wolf.

“This close I can get something off him, but it’s so faint I didn’t sense it at all when I was fighting him.” I frowned at the body, my eyebrows puckering.

Hector nodded and went back to sniffing at the wolf.

Ember leaned back on her heels and looked disgruntled. “If he really is from the Low Marsh Pack, this is going to turn into a mess.”

I chewed my lip some more as doubt started to creep into me. “Maybe I shouldn’t have used my daggers when fighting him…”

“No,” Greyson said before I could even breathe. “You did the right thing.”

I slightly pursed my lips as I studied the Alpha, on the rare occasion of being grateful for him.

It wasn’t that I disliked Greyson—he was a good Alpha, even if he had swindled the Pack into thinking he was practically Prince Charming when he was actually more of a trickster. I just didn’t like the way he’d been made Alpha of the Pack.

Typically Alphas come into their position through winning fights, or some method of proving they’re capable of caring for the Pack. Not Greyson.

Hudson, the previous Alpha “left” the Pack, and Pre-Dominant Harka—the highest-ranking wolf in the Midwest—had installed Greyson as the new Alpha. I’m fairly certain Hudson was asked to step down—even though he was an amazing leader—as the switch happened in the span of a week.

Rumor had it that Greyson was a top contender for Pre-Dominant when Harka eventually left the position, and I can only imagine that being alpha of the strongest Pack in the Midwest would solidify his position.

I didn’t doubt Greyson’s strength or abilities—he was stronger than Hudson by far, and I didn’t think there was another Alpha in the Midwest who was stronger than him except for Pre-Dominant Harka of course. But Hudson and his family’s abrupt and obviously unplanned exit left a bad taste in my mouth when it came to Greyson becoming Northern Lakes’ Alpha.