Page 7 of Ensnared by the Pack: The Complete Series (Destined Realms #3)

KNOX

I crested the rise, my four legs carrying me up the slope faster than my brothers on their two legs, and scanned the horizon. A dark red smear stained the eastern edge of the sky while the wind gusted, stronger on the hilltop than the valley below, and I could smell the moisture in the air.

A storm was fast on its way. A real one. Not like whatever had lit up the night just after midnight, jerking us from our sleep. From the color of this morning’s sky and the ache in my right haunch — not to mention we were a month into the summer storm season — the coming storm would be bad, and we’d need to find cover soon.

Except I was pretty sure the real storm was the least of our worries, which was why Cyrus hadn’t told us to turn around and head to the closest patrol shed to take cover.

Whatever had summoned that lightning had been powerful. After the first blinding flash and bone-rattling boom, a giant wave of power, that I’m sure had been felt all the way to Stonehaven, had crashed into us.

The wave had disappeared, and the night returned to quiet, but we couldn’t risk thinking that because it had stopped everything was fine. Lightning didn’t just come out of nowhere once then disappear. Not on a cloudless night. And it certainly didn’t come with a wave of power.

The malicious god, Tzanagoth, was said to have fallen asleep in the heart of Anakar, the ruined temple complex in the center of the forest that lay before us, and while no gods had yet to wake from their magical slumber, we needed to confirm that this one hadn’t finally broken the spell.

“Do you see anything?” Cyrus asked from halfway up the hill.

I raked my gaze over the thick forest beyond. The lightning had struck somewhere in the middle of those trees, but with them crowded close and the thick mist rolling and whirling between the trunks, I couldn’t see anything in the predawn gray that might indicate what had happened, even with my excellent night vision. Which made me even more unsettled.

“I really hope it wasn’t at the Anakar ruins,” Bishop said, climbing to the top of the hill with Cyrus and stopping beside me. He reached down and brushed his fingers through my fur, trying to calm me with his touch even though I could sense his own worry through our twin bond.

I jerked away from him and loped down the hill.

I didn’t need his touch to help calm me. I was fine. I wasn’t even that upset.

So long as I was out in the open, preferably in my wolf form, I was fine, and I’d continue to be fine. I’d been fine for over a year.

But every time I got a little worried and it slipped through our bond, Bishop got concerned, like he was afraid my wolf was going to fully take over and I’d go feral again.

My wolf huffed at that. It hadn’t really taken over, either. So don’t blame me. Our fear had. That was the real beast inside me, the thing I battled with every day that I never admitted to anyone, not even my twin.

Very few in our pack had ever gone feral, and no one would have expected it from one of the alpha’s sons. We were supposed to be the pack leaders, warriors at the front of the battle against the dangerous beasts roaming the land.

Of course, after Bishop had pulled me back to myself, everyone had expected I’d have a relapse. Even my brother. I was the strange one, the odd one, the one who didn’t bother to smile for the sake of being polite. They said I liked the hunt too much, that I preferred my wolf form over my human one. I was already more wolf than man.

And they were right. My wolf didn’t have to live up to expectations and didn’t have to smile and be social when surrounded by too many people. I was free as a wolf in ways I’d never be free as a man, and I didn’t give a fuck about my obligations as one of the alpha’s sons. Just point me in the direction of a battle or hunt. That’s all I wanted.

I found a break in the underbrush and a narrow game trail leading deeper into the trees and waited for Cyrus and Bishop to catch up. Mist curled over the ground, cold and thick, and the scent of forest decay and dirt sat heavy in the air, along with the teasing smell of a rabbit and some squirrels.

I ignored the urge to hunt down the rabbit and focused on smelling beyond the obvious forest scents for anything that might be dangerous.

We were almost done with our patrol of our borders and had already had to fight a small pack of grimalkins who thought one of our farmers and his livestock looked delicious. For all we knew, the rest of the grimalkins’ pack had holed up here since the pack we’d fought had been smaller than usual and we didn’t routinely patrol the Darkweald forest.

Not that they’d be smart enough to figure out that we ignored the forest since it was almost a day’s march from the closest farmer and there were unwelcoming spirits in these mists. But without us patrolling the area, to their animal minds it might have seemed like a good place to call home.

I sniffed again. There was something just at the edge of my senses. A sweetness? A freshness? Something that didn’t belong… or maybe it did. Maybe there were flowers in the heart of this murky forest. A god’s power often influenced the area where he or she slept. Perhaps Tzanagoth’s magic had made it possible for something to bloom in the forest’s perpetual twilight. Although given that Tzanagoth was a malicious god, I wouldn’t have expected any flowers to bloom, especially ones that smelled sweet and fresh.

Smell anything? Cyrus asked in my head.

I pushed through the underbrush, stepping fully into the shadows and mist, and scented the air again. The sweet freshness grew a little stronger. It was definitely coming from somewhere to my left, but that didn’t mean anything. I was supposed to be smelling for trouble while we headed straight to the ruins, and this didn’t smell like trouble.

I’m scouting ahead.

Cyrus huffed his agreement, the communication more sensation than sound. He knew that if I didn’t say there was trouble then there wasn’t trouble.

I bounded down the trail a bit then slipped off the path into the underbrush, heading deeper into the forest to my right, away from the sweet scent. Cyrus and Bishop would stick to the path in their human forms while I’d search the surrounding area for signs of danger. Just because I couldn’t smell something dangerous, didn’t mean that something wasn’t out there and hadn’t left evidence behind.

The sweet fresh scent on my left continued to tease me despite purposely heading away from it, and my wolf started to double back toward it before I fully realized what we were doing.

I heaved myself back on track. Normally I’d just let him take over, especially since it was easier for him to be in control in our wolf form, but we couldn’t lose ourselves in the hunt or even just curiosity right now. That lightning and power had announced the possibility of something seriously dangerous, and our brothers were depending on us to help keep them safe. As much as my wolf and I wanted to say fuck it to the world and all our obligations, we never wanted to endanger our brothers again.

This way, my wolf snarled, wrenching my head back toward the sweet scent. Trouble.

Something that smells good isn’t trouble. Although I’d met more than a few females who’d smelled good and they’d certainly been trouble.

The wind gusted, swirling the mist and filling the air around with a hint of that sweet fresh scent and a big whiff of coppery tang. Blood. Lots of blood. Wolf shifter blood. And from the sweet freshness, female blood.

My wolf took off before I could come to the conclusion that it was necessary to check out what had happened.

A wolf shifter meant it was a pack member and everyone in the pack would want to know what had happened and who it was. Our pack wasn’t small, but it wasn’t too big that we didn’t know or know of everyone in it, and someone had been seriously hurt.