Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)

The wolves were on me before I could get all my words out.

Ember rubbed her furry cheek against mine, giving me a nose full of wolf fur, while Aeric pushed his face into my shoulder.

Wyatt nudged my hand until I rubbed that itchy spot just in front of his right ear, and even Rio crowded in, leaning into my back.

I grinned as another wolf presented her belly for me to rub, and when I scratched her belly she happily wriggled on the ground, wagging her tail despite the uncomfortable angle.

The wolves panted happily, and a few of them romped around the clearing, playing with each other now that the shouting from their Alpha was over.

Aeric left me when Ember body slammed him out of the way, and he and Wyatt cracked skulls and then play bit each other for “fun”. But Rio and Ember both practically wormed their way under me so my arms were thrown around Ember’s shoulders for balance while Rio tipped me over and inspected one of my bare legs.

“They won’t do this again.” Greyson stepped out of the trees, wearing his silver fae-bracelet and the magic designed, fitted black pants. He shrugged on a black t-shirt—he must have disappeared to go find one of the clothing drops—as he approached me.

“Because you told them not to?” I wryly guessed.

It doesn’t matter that I was upset and angry, the Pack only listens to their precious Alpha.

“No.” Greyson stopped just short of my jumbled pile with the wolves and stared down Rio. “Out.”

Rio flattened his ears to his skull and rapidly backed up, then slunk off to join the other wolves in their impromptu snuggle session, wagging his tail when Aspen licked his ear.

Greyson stepped into the space Rio had left and crouched down next to me. “They won’t do it because you told them you were done.”

I flung my arms around Ember’s neck and clung to her—I didn’t want the wolves running off and leaving me with Greyson. She panted in my face and nosed my cheek, but seemed to understand what I wanted because she settled in and watched her packmates play.

“I don’t believe that,” I said. “They only listen to you like that.”

Greyson shrugged and watched as Aeric hopped at Wyatt and wagged his tail before the two tore their way around the clearing, knocking into Aspen who snarled at the pair. “You underestimate your power.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “You guys constantly trash me in training.”

Greyson glanced at me, and there was a gleam in his gold eyes that said if we’d been alone there would have been a lot of scoffing on his end. But since we were in front of the Pack, he was polite and stoic. “I wasn’t referring to your physical strength.”

He shifted his attention back to his Pack. “Hunters move as a family and fight as a unit, so they can fight using pure strength and sheer force. They have the numbers for it. You don’t. But as a result, your hunter powers—your base magic—seems to be much more active.” He paused. “It’s stronger than you think.”

“You mean with my special pheromones and being close to tears they realized they hurt the puppy and they shouldn’t do that?” I adjusted my hold on Ember’s neck. “I guess I hadn’t thought of weaponizing my pheromones like that.”

“Pheromones can only do so much,” Greyson said. His words were careful and measured, and his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the night as he stared at me. “Perhaps you inherited more magic from your parents than you thought.”

I was caught halfway between a frown and eyes scrunched in confusion.

That wasn’t a random comment. He purposefully said that. But why? And what’s he getting at?

“You are able to settle arguments involving werewolves with ease,” he continued.

I relaxed. “That’s just practice. You just need a firm voice and enough false bravado to keep your own fear under control so they can’t smell it on you. Isn’t that right, Ember?”

Ember leaned into my shoulder but wouldn’t look at me—meaning she was receptive to affection, but she did not want to get dragged into this conversation.

“You’ve said before most of your hunter magic seems to come from your mother’s family. Do you know anything about the strains of magic from your father’s family?” Greyson asked.

“Not really? I haven’t looked into it. A hunter usually comes into her magic when she’s ten or twelve. Mom was able to recognize some of her powers in me and taught me about them, and I haven’t really had anything new pop up since then. Dad told me his family had some pretty wild stuff, but besides his gene for getting white hair in your twenties, he didn’t have any special magic. They were hoping I’d get my mom’s magic.”

Greyson was silent for a moment as Ember pushed her face against mine and thumped her tail on the ground. “No one besides an Alpha should be able to give wolves orders and have the expectation that they will be listened to in an argument. You do. Perhaps you should look into why that is.”

He reached for me, but just before his fingers brushed my cheek he abruptly stood up. “Regardless, the Pack will no longer ambush you in this way. You need to go sanitize your wound.”

“Wound? It’s just a bad case of friction burn,” I said.

“They made you bleed.” Greyson glanced at his wolves, who felt his gaze and instantly stopped playing and instead stood gravely, waiting for his command. “It needs to be cleaned.”

“Ah. Is that what you were sniffing when you first showed up?” I let go of Ember and boosted myself to my feet, groaning as my bruised side dully ached.

“Something like that,” Greyson said. “Have a pleasant evening, Pip.”

“Thanks.”

I watched him slip into the shadows of the trees, visible for only a few moments before I couldn’t see him through the underbrush despite my better-than-average night vision.

Wyatt and Aeric pressed against my thighs, then followed after the rest of the Pack that trailed behind the Alpha.

I waved them off, then turned around and found the very obvious path the wolves had left when they dragged me. I followed it back to my cottage, to a very belligerent Prince and Princess, who—in retaliation for kicking them out—had brought a live snake into my garage. It was one of their favorite things to do when I made them mad, so I was used to it.

As I swept the snake out with a broom, I pondered Greyson’s words.

Could I have inherited more magic than I thought? But I don’t feel anything magical about the stuff he mentioned. It’s all about the way you carry yourself. And I’m not convinced the wolves won’t end up pouncing on me in a few months after their memory of tonight isn’t quite so sharp.