Page 3 of Red Hood, Bad Wolf (Cursed Kingdoms)

D awn crept over the pack house as Rowan reviewed her notes, magic crackling at her fingertips as she traced the patterns of disappearances. Her power surged before Alder even reached the study door—the awareness growing stronger with each passing hour, making it impossible to ignore his presence. The woodsmoke-and-pine scent of him filled her senses, and her magic stirred in response, reaching for him even as she tried to maintain professional distance.

This wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t just a blast of insta-lust.

This could be something serious.

And if she was right and this attraction between them was something more, this was going to get messy.

"Ready?" He looked as exhausted as she felt, dark circles under those green eyes that seemed to see straight through her defenses. His power pressed against her shields, not threatening but aware, like a wolf scent-marking its territory.

"As I'll ever be." She gestured to her organized files, color-coded and annotated with magical markers only she could see. "I've prepared questions for—" She broke off as their fingers brushed reaching for the same paper. Energy crackled between them, and for a moment, she could have sworn she felt his heartbeat syncing with hers.

Their eyes met. She felt his hunger echo through her own body—a deep, primal need to claim and be claimed. Magic hummed, a symphony of fate and instinct demanding they acknowledge what they were to each other.

“Oh no,” she said.

“What?”

“You know, don’t you?”

Alder cleared his throat, but she felt his reluctance to step back. "We should... the pack's waiting."

"Right. Yes." Rowan straightened her red cloak, the enchanted fabric responding to her touch with a whisper of protective magic. "Professional."

His lips quirked, and through the bond came a flash of what he wanted to do to her professional facade. "Professional."

They interviewed pack members in the formal sitting room, maintaining a careful distance that did nothing to diminish their awareness of each other. Serenity, Alder's beta, went first. The she-wolf's eyes darted between them, nostrils flaring as she caught their mingled scents.

"The cave you found," Serenity said, tension evident in her rigid posture, "it's not marked on any pack maps. We had no idea it existed." Her gaze fixed on Rowan. "But you already think you know who's responsible, don't you? You Red Hoods always do."

"We follow evidence, not assumptions." Rowan kept her voice neutral. "Could someone have been using it without the pack's knowledge?"

"Impossible." Serenity's wolf eyes flashed gold. "We'd smell any intruder. Our borders are warded, our patrols constant." She leaned forward. "We protect our own."

"Unless," Alder said quietly, his pain lancing through Rowan's chest. She shouldn’t be able to feel his emotions like this. "It wasn't an intruder."

The tension crackled. Through their growing connection, Rowan felt the weight of leadership bearing down on him—the possibility that one of his people had betrayed him cut him deeper than any physical wound.

She shouldn’t be able to know that either.

They interviewed others throughout the morning: Danny, the young wolf who'd just transformed, still awkward in his new power; Marcus, the pack's elderly historian whose knowledge of territory boundaries went back generations; three rangers who patrolled the borders, their stories overlapping but with subtle inconsistencies that made Rowan's instincts prickle.

Each interview revealed the same tight-knit loyalty, the same resistance to the idea that evil could wear a familiar face. But underneath, Rowan sensed currents of fear. The pack knew something was wrong, even if they couldn't admit it.

Mid-morning, Mae appeared with tea and cookies, her silver hair perfectly arranged, her floral dress deceptively domestic. "You poor dears must be exhausted." She settled into an armchair, everything about her radiating grandmotherly concern. But something in her sharp eyes made Rowan's magic recoil. "Any progress?"

"We're exploring all possibilities," Rowan said carefully, noting how Mae's gaze lingered on her red cloak.

"Mm." Mae stirred her tea with precise movements. "Have you considered it might be related to the territory dispute with the River Valley pack? They've been pushing boundaries lately." Her smile showed too many teeth. "Of course, I helped deal with the last trespassers they sent. Simple folk, really. Didn't understand the old ways of marking territory."

Alder stiffened. Through the bond, Rowan felt his unease. "Grandmother?"

"Oh, nothing violent, dear. Just made it clear they weren't welcome." She patted his hand, and Rowan felt him suppress a shudder. "I know all the old ways of protecting our land. The ones your mother forgot, near the end."

Rowan's magic prickled in warning. Mae's words were sweet, but something darker lurked beneath them, like poison in honey. "What do you mean?"

"Such a shame, what happened to her. The madness came on so suddenly." Mae's sharp eyes fixed on Rowan with unsettling intensity. "Tell me, dear, how do Red Hoods usually handle feral wolves? Such fascinating magic you must have. I've always wondered about the specifics, whether they suffer much, at the end."

Something in her tone made Rowan's skin crawl

Before she could respond, Alder changed the subject. "Serenity mentioned border patrols found new markers yesterday?"

"Yes, yes." Mae waved dismissively, but her gaze remained fixed on Rowan. "But I'm much more interested in hearing about Rowan's work. It must be so exciting, hunting dangerous creatures. Though I imagine it's risky." She tilted her head. "What happens if a Red Hood's magic fails at a crucial moment? Are you all trained to fight without it?"

“Yes. Now if you’ll excuse us, Alder and I have a few things to discuss privately.”

“I bet you do.”

After Mae left, they retreated to his office to review notes. The pressure of awareness between them was stronger in the private space. Rowan could feel Alder's thoughts churning, his certainties beginning to crack.

"Your grandmother seems very interested in Red Hood methods," she said carefully.

Alder ran a hand through his hair, his agitation bleeding through their connection. "She's always been interested in power. After what happened with my mother..." He paused. "I never questioned if my mother had been loup before. Never wanted to see..."

"Tell me?" The words were soft, an invitation rather than a demand. She felt her offered support and understanding mirror back at her through their connection.

He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. Then: "It wasn't like they said. The official report claimed she showed classic signs of moon-madness, but..." He paced to the window, moonlight silvering his profile. "She was acting strange before that. Confused. Aggressive. Not like herself at all."

Rowan felt his pain echo through her. Without thinking, she touched his arm. Contact sent awareness sparking between them, the bond between them strengthening further. Soon, they wouldn’t be able to pretend to ignore what was painfully obvious. "How so?"

"She'd forget things," Alder continued, leaning into Rowan's touch. "Get lost in familiar places. Snap at pack members for no reason. My father thought someone was poisoning her. He was investigating something, but he never told me what. Then he disappeared, and three days later..." His voice roughened. "Three days later, they found those hikers."

"And the Red Hoods came," Rowan finished softly.

"They said she'd killed them. That she was too far gone to save." The bond flooded with old grief. "I was sixteen. Too young to challenge them, too old to forget. Mae helped hold me back when they... when they did it. Said I couldn't save her, that I had to survive to lead the pack."

Rowan's heart ached. Through their connection, she felt the wounds that had never fully healed. "The Red Hoods who came for your mother weren't like me. We're different now."

"No?" His eyes held hers, desperate to believe. "What makes you different?"

She told him then about her training. About the years spent learning both combat and healing magic, about the ancient grimoires passed down through generations of Red Hoods. "We start with basic witchcraft—protection spells, tracking magic, healing. But then we specialize."

"In killing werewolves?" There was no accusation in his voice now, only curiosity.

"In saving them." Rowan let her magic dance between her fingers, crimson threads weaving patterns in the air. "Every Red Hood has their own specialties. Mine is detection and containment. I can sense the difference between regular moon-fever and true moon-madness, can track a loup garou across continents if I have to."

"That's why they sent you here."

"Yes. But not just to hunt." She met his gaze steadily. "We're were-hunters, yes, but we're also healers. Every Red Hood chooses this path knowing we'll face darkness, but our goal is to help. Sometimes that means ending suffering. But we always try to save them first."

"Like you tried with the wolf in the forest." Understanding dawned in his eyes. "You really do care."

"We're not executioners. What happened to your mother, that's not how we operate now. Someone should have tested her, tried to help her." The words cost her, admitting her order's past failures, but she felt his appreciation for her honesty through their bond.

"Tested her how?"

Rowan held up her hands, letting magic shimmer between them. "We can sense the difference between regular moon-fever and true moon-madness. Between natural aggression and loup garou corruption. If she was being poisoned..."

"The tests you do would have shown it." Alder's power flared, making the air heavy. "They didn't even try."

"No. They didn't." She met his gaze steadily. "I'm sorry."

He moved closer, drawn by something neither of them could fight anymore.

“This can’t be happening,” he said.

“And yet, it is.” Her hand trembled.

“You are not who I would have picked.”

Hurt sang through the connection between them, sent before she could try to block the emotion. “You’re not who I would have picked either.”

Jealousy flared. “Is there another?” he demanded.

“No.” She shook her head. “For you?”

“No.”

“We can try and deny the bond,” she said.

“But that would weaken us.”

“At the very least, we’d be distracted and vulnerable.”

“I will not be vulnerable,” he said. “But I will not force you.”

Rowan closed her eyes and let his emotions wash over her. He was a good man. She could tell that because of the way their magic entwined and connected. She could see his soul and it was pure. He could feel her thoughts and he knew while she had her doubts, there was also need and desire there as well.

“I always thought my mate would be a wolf. Or a shifter,” he said.

“I never thought I’d bond with a shifter, and an Alpha at that. Will your pack accept the bond?”

“If I do, they have no choice.”

“You have a choice too,” she said.

“I’m not displeased.”

At this point in their relationship, it was probably the best they could hope for. Affection and maybe love would come later. But right now, it was pure need. Need that would grow to a madness of its own if denied. A mate bond sang between them, pushing away professional distance, pushing away the weight of their pasts. His hand cupped her cheek, and her magic reached for his automatically.

"Rowan." Her name was a growl of need.

She rose on her toes as he bent down, their lips meeting in a kiss that felt like coming home. Heat exploded through the bond. His power wrapped around her as her magic sank into him, marking, claiming, connecting them on a level that transcended physical touch. She felt his wolf rise to meet her magic, felt the ancient power of the mate bond crystallizing between them.

Alder pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth as she wound her arms around his neck, lost in the sensation of rightness. This was what the bond had been pushing them toward—this recognition of what they could be together. Through their connection, she felt his wonder matching her own. Felt his fierce need to protect, to claim, to make her his.

A sharp knock shattered the moment. They broke apart as Serenity burst in, her face grave. The beta's eyes widened at their obvious dishevelment, but she focused on her alpha.

"We found something. At the old quarry."

Alder's hand stayed on Rowan's waist, his touch grounding them both. "What?"

"Another body." Serenity's eyes darted between them. "And this time, there are claw marks. Deliberate ones. It’s definitely a werewolf’s kill."

The world seemed to tilt as Rowan felt Alder's horror through their newly acknowledged bond. A part of him hadn’t believed that there was truly a loup garou in his territory. That one of his pack might be hiding a terrible secret.

"Show us," he commanded.

They followed Serenity into the growing darkness. The quarry loomed ahead. Its sheer rock walls cast long shadows. Their mate bond was fragile and strung tight with shared tension as they approached the crime scene.

The victim lay crumpled at the base of the cliff. Made to look like an accident, Rowan realized, except for the distinctive claw marks. Her magic detected traces of wolf energy—loup garou, yes. But with a terrible focus. Except loups couldn’t focus or reason. That was the whole reason it was called moon madness.

"The ranger who found her said there was something else." Serenity pointed to a nearby boulder. "There."

Carved into the stone were words that made Rowan's blood run cold: LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR WAY?

She felt Alder's fury through their bond. Someone was playing games. But why?

"We need to tell the pack," he said. "Put everyone on alert. We have a serial killer, not a loup."

“Maybe we have both,” she said.