“Welcome, Pack Blackwater!” Herd Leader Asithius greeted us with a booming voice that carried over the sand, over the waves. He clapped once, then rubbed his hands together as he surveyed Lucien, shirtless and wearing only black athletic pants, as instructed. I clutched a spare pair in my hands for him to wear after, assuming he’d need to shift.
I hadn’t let myself take the time to appreciate his chiseled physique before, when we were saying goodbye. But now there was nothing for me to do but watch and drink him in. His hair was disheveled, and his muscles corded in the waning sunlight. He was ruggedly beautiful, eyes burning with intensity that the distance between us couldn’t dampen.
My wild wolf. My own wolf rumbled her appreciation in my chest.
“Centaur challenges have long been a tradition among our kind and are only rarely shared with outsiders. You might be tempted to look at our challengers”-he waved to Flantian, who stood tall and proud a few feet away, with a small throng of admirers who put up a cheer at his attention-“and think that brute strength would win it all for one side, but that’s untrue. Centaurs are known worldwide for their wisdom. As such, our challenges are crafted to present an equitable contest of both wits and might for both centaurs and the rival species.”
I held back a derisive snort. Wisdom might be what was written about in the human books about centaurs, but that certainly wasn’t what the supernatural world knew them for. No, that was their cunning. They were a brilliant, ruthless species with the physical might to do as they pleased. Only their hard-to-disguise form and slow reproductive rate kept them from ruling the world.
“Wolves are apex predators, and so we’ve made today’s challenge simple. A hunt. Bring us an infernabist for our celebratory feast tonight, and you win.” Asithius spread his hands wide and smiled, as if we should all just believe this would be a walk in the park.
I watched Flantian from the corner of my eye as Asithius spoke, and even with only partial attention, it was impossible to miss the way his face paled.
Whatever an infernabist was, it wasn’t good.
Fuck.
I didn’t swear often, but this situation clearly warranted it. Wolves didn’t hunt alone; we hunted in packs. And whatever this creature was, it was big enough to make a giant freaking centaur blanch. And Lucien would be facing it completely alone.
Alone and with nothing but herbs and my best guess at herbalist magic between him and another painful attack from his damaged connection with his wolf that could debilitate him at a dangerous time. I was numb with worry as I followed the stream of centaurs and my pack mates toward the finish line, where we would wait. Only the two champions and their representatives were left on the beach with Asithius for full instructions.
I cast one last look over my shoulder at Lucien before they were out of sight, his face grim as he listened and nodded along to whatever Asithius was now saying more quietly.
Shit, shit, shit, fuck.
Lucien
Asithius’s words were a stream, and I was a rock, frozen in the flow, letting them wash over me, catching only snippets.
Extremely dangerous predator.
Four tusks, razor sharp.
Roam in packs, deep within the ghost forest.
Fast, vicious, with toxic saliva.
“Is everything clear?”
“Yes, Herd Leader. I will fight with honor for the herd.” Flantian bowed deeply at my side, his fist over his heart and a grave expression knitting his brows together.
Asithius turned expectantly to me next. “Yes, Herd Leader. I will fight with everything I have for my pack.”
“Excellent! In that case, the sun is just about in position. May the most cunning fighter win.”
Between one heartbeat and the next, Flantian spun, flinging sand from beneath his hooves as he bolted away at a full, stretched gallop.
I turned and followed, not bothering to strip off the pants before shifting into lupine form. My wolf burst free with all the pent-up vigor of a young boy with his first slingshot. Taut, ready to snap, and with arrow-like precision.
Asithius had told us the ghost forest was on the far end of the island, so part of the challenge was just not letting Flantian run away with the whole thing, his longer legs and equine speed giving him a slight edge. I didn’t fall into the trap of sprinting, though.
He might want to make a big show as we raced past his fans, but I couldn’t give two shits about showmanship. This was pass/fail; we didn’t get points for flair. Reserving enough energy for a fight was crucial, and I wasn’t going to get sucked into the showboating.
Still, a thunderous roar rose from the crowd as we streaked past, and my wolf’s sensitive ears ached at the uproar, flattening protectively against his head. But no matter how hard they screamed, how high they jumped-he was laser focused.
To my surprise, it was more than the standard lock-on to the hunt. It was a burning drive to win, to impress our mate with our prowess.
On that, my wolf and I were in perfect sync.
We chased the centaur down the length of the island, the terrain changing from sand to rock to sparse, sharp, crunchy grass under our paws as a dark forest loomed ahead. Flantian released a bellow-of rage or warning, it was hard to decipher in my wolf form-and slowed to a canter at the edge of the trees.
Probably wise for a beast as tall as he, for I could see low-hanging branches, thick with thorny, knotty dangers.
I arrowed past, leaving him in the dust before allowing myself to slow to a crawl, expanding my senses into the undergrowth in search of the elusive infernabist. My wolf could hear and smell a festival of things unknown to humankind. Trace scents on the air, in the dirt below.
Deer scat.
A bird’s nest, with the distinctive, earthy scent of fresh-hatched babies and their discarded shells. Interestingly out of season, but perhaps a by-product of the magic inherent in this island.
The soft snap of a hoof on a twig, some distance behind. Flantian.
That last one made my wolf preen, glad to be the superior predator for this environment.
But I knew that this might feel easy at a surface level-perhaps even that I had an inherent advantage-but there was no way that was true at the core of the test.
The centaurs wanted me to fail because they thought the world was safer while they held part of our stone. But it wasn’t. Not for my mate, for our future daughter. And I couldn’t afford to lose sight of that.
More Kickass Werewolf Reads
Dive into our collection of free werewolf romance novels—where fierce Alphas, daring heroines, and heart-stopping twists await. Every story burns with forbidden desire, loyalty, and destiny. Don’t wait—here’s a world where love bites hard and nothing is stronger than the call of the mate.
Leave a Reply