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Oh, now he is baiting me, it would seem. My smile is predatory, I fear. “I rescind my earlier permission. You may address me as Master Stag. And clearly, you would not be aware of a doe shifter among you. At the risk of a confused wolf eating her, she has hidden her nature.”

Clay looks like he’s about to charge.

I square my shoulders and prepare.

Glen thrusts an arm out to ward Clay off. “We don’t eat shifters, asshole. No matter what they look like.”

“Anyway.” I search for my best reasonable tone. “This entire conversation is all very academic. Please guide me to your pack leader. And I will converse with him directly.”

“Aca-what? Gods, you’re a presumptuous bastard,” Clay mutters.

“The letter I received was delayed a year. Do not delay me further.”

They share a look.

“Follow us,” Glen says, his lips curling into a smirk. “Do not wander lest our short-term memory fail us, and we get peckish and confused.”

A short snort of laughter escapes me. “Touche.”

Clay rolls his eyes. They shift as one. I follow suit.

I follow them up the twisting, turning pathways until we arrive in the pack village. Most wolf shifters live in dens, but this community appears to be entirely above ground and presents a quaint, if rustic, setting.

My senses are in riot with so many wolf shifters around me. I am already searching, seeking any evidence, even a faint tendril, of my ward.

Nothing. If she has been here, it has not been recently.

The poor doe must be terrified living among all these predators. No mind, she shall never experience fear again. I shall see to that.

In the center of the village is a substantial structure with a large alpha standing at the entrance—the pack house and pack leader, I presume.

I have already gathered quite a crowd as nosy pack members poke their heads from doorways and follow after us.

I shift to human as I reach the base of the steps and bow my head in deference. “Pack leader. I am King Seven or Master Stag. I have come to collect my ward.”

“So my lieutenants informed me,” he says, giving me a speculative look. “Why don’t we step inside.”

No further words are spoken, but the crowd disperses in a sudden and obvious way, and his two lieutenants take up positions on either side of the pack house door.

Inside, it follows the same rustic theme with a long wooden table with benches on either side, unlit stone hearths, and bright woven rugs upon the walls.

“Now,” he says, turning to face me. “I admit to being in the dark regarding your business here. What is the name of this mysterious doe you claim is living in my pack?”

Before I can answer him, he glances at something over my shoulder and toward the open door.

I sense a presence behind me even before I turn and size up the male who is radiating menace.

He brings with him a distinct scent… that of sweet, young, fertile doe.

Chapter Nine

Wolf

There is a prickling sensation under my skin that I cannot fully identify the cause of. This is not the first time I have been called to an urgent matter; I doubt it will be the last. The sensation peaks as I share a look with Glen and Clay, who are in wolf form on the steps of the pack hall.

A golden-skinned giant has his back to me and is talking to Flint. I am six and a half feet tall in human form. He must be seven feet tall if he is an inch. His ears are pointed, peeping between his long, flowing golden locks. My first impression is that he is some kind of fae. But the scent is off. Also, he is naked, which implies he is a shifter of some sort.

He turns to pin me with a haughty glare. He is a handsome bastard, young, with a lean, impressively defined musculature.