In Deep Shift: A Wolf Rampant spinoff serial (Bloodling Serial Book 2) Page 2

  Sounded like a good deal at the time since I was always willing to let my milk brother take the lead if it floated his boat. But now I was starting to wonder whether the two of us had gotten in over our heads, walking unprepared into this melee of laughing, growling, posturing, and flirting shifters.

  "Welcome." The word came from behind our backs, and we both whirled, Chase nearly toppling over in his haste to find out whether the greeting emanated from friend or foe. Despite our plan to let Chase speak for the two of us, I surged forward to give my milk brother time to recover his composure, then looked up into the deepest eyes I'd ever seen.

  Usually, shifters kept their lupine natures under wraps when walking two-footed, but I could tell that the middle-aged man standing in front of me was more of my own school of thought on the issue. Why put the wolf to sleep when canine senses were so powerful, even if pointy teeth had to be hidden beneath human gums? This man's wolf was alert and rampant behind his human eyes, and despite my seven-year absence from All-Pack, I recognized him instantly.

  "Chief Wilder," Chase greeted our host, holding out one hand in greeting and proving that he also had guessed the man's identity. But even though Chase had called our host by the right name, my milk brother clearly hadn't understood the implications of the wolf lurking behind the man's eyes.

  Crazy Wilder, as shifters liked to call this man behind his back, was the host of All-Pack for good reason. He was the biggest, baddest shifter around. And, unfortunately, he and I both knew that shaking hands with a submissive werewolf barely old enough to drink was miles beneath the other alpha's dignity. The only question was how hard our host would slap my friend down.

  Sure enough, the older man stared pointedly at the offending appendage until Chase flushed and let the hand fall back against his side. Despite knowing exactly what was coming, my lip curled upwards at my friend's embarrassment and I placed the first mark in my mental tally book against Chief Wilder. Some day, I'd pay him back in spades.

  I didn't growl, though. First, there were my prime directives to consider. And, second, Chief Wilder's wolf was stronger than that of any shifter I'd ever met, and for once in my life I wasn't entirely sure I could take another werewolf down if a verbal altercation descended into a pitched battle.

  It was a strange sensation to feel cowed by another alpha, and a more human shifter would have puffed up his chest and tried to hide his weakness beneath brave words. But I was more intrigued than threatened at the concept of such a powerful shifter. And, apparently, Chief Wilder was equally intrigued by me, because he immediately proceeded to tweak my tail.

  "You're the spitting image of your brother," the older man said, and I could tell from the glint in his eyes that our host knew Justin was the last shifter I'd ever want to be compared to.

  Now I did emit the tiniest growl before I was able to stifle my annoyance. Last time I'd seen Justin, he was a gawky teenager, half my bulk due to spending his childhood on two legs instead of four. I sure hoped I didn't look anything like my brother...although perhaps Justin had grown into his wolf over the intervening years.

  "So I assume you're here to stand with Clan Young?" Chief Wilder continued, and despite myself I shifted upwards at last so I could speak my mind. No way was I going to let Chase tangle with the All-Pack host while I stood by and looked on like an empty-headed four-legger.

  "Well, in as much as I'm a Young and I lead a pack," I replied coldly, my speedy shift requiring only the slightest pause in the conversation. Sure, it probably looked a little bad for me to be standing around naked conversing with the All-Pack host, but who the hell cared? "Yes, in that respect I'm here to stand with Clan Young," I continued. "But perhaps not with the Clan Young you're thinking of."

  For a moment, the two of us stood there, chin to chin, eyes locked and fists clenched. I could feel Chase behind my back, struggling to think of a way to defuse the situation before I got both of us killed, but still willing to leap into the fray to protect my back if necessary. Further away, a car door slammed and I smelled Oscar emerging from the vehicle where I'd left him in charge of our pack's weaker members.

  Yes, in complete disregard for tradition, I'd come to All-Pack with my entire unruly clan of halfies, women, children, and disgraced shifters in tow. The deal was that I didn't trust my blood brother not to lead an ambush against my pack mates while I wasn't around to protect them, and Tia didn't trust me not to get my ass handed to me if I attended All-Pack alone. So we'd all piled into cars and caravanned down the interstate together to answer my brother's call.

  Which just went to show that Chase's mom knew me better than I knew myself. Because hadn't I taken the first opportunity to do something stupid? Like trying to stare down Crazy Wilder on his home turf while the powerful alpha's minions inched closer as every loaded second passed....

  A smarter werewolf would have apologized for being a smart-ass and then moved on. It was no big deal to grovel in front of Chief Wilder, especially for a barely-adult shifter like me. Just standing up to him for as long as I had would make our pack look good—appearances being the whole point of All-Pack, after all...if you didn't count the girls and the feasting.

  Meanwhile, I knew that if I didn't make my move soon, my peace-loving uncle would apologize on my behalf in order to prevent outright bloodshed. So I did the only thing I could think of. I reached out and landed a brotherly punch on Chief Wilder's broad shoulder and said, "Dude, I thought you were expecting us. Didn't you say you were going to stand up and offer surety for our pack when we lobby for territorial rights?"

  For a split second, Chief Wilder froze, completely blindsided by my inappropriate request and gesture. Not only was the alpha before me the most powerful shifter present, he and my late father had also been at each others' throats constantly during the latter's lifetime. Helping Chief Young's son become formally recognized as pack leader would definitely stick in the old man's craw.

  But then I could have sworn I saw a twinkle develop in Crazy Wilder's cold, dark eyes. Pulling me into a guy hug, the jovial blow he landed on my back was strong enough to rattle my teeth. "Well, you'd better get settled, then, hadn't you, son?" he answered. "You can set up your camp next to mine."

  Then, before I was even able to suck in enough air to respond, All-Pack's unanimously declared leader had turned on his heel and left me alone. And although I was naked and breathless in the aftermath, I still felt like I might have actually held my own. Well, kinda-sorta.

  ***

  The smart thing to do would have been to sit back and rest on my laurels. After all, with Crazy Wilder's support supposedly behind my little pack of misfits, Justin would be too afraid to spend much time undermining my position for fear of toppling his own precarious rank within the regional packs. So all I had to do was wait out the week of revelry, then lead my pack home, where the ground beneath our feet would soon be officially our own by werewolf as well as by human law.

  But whoever said I was smart?

  "Seriously, Wolfie?" Chase asked, his words full of the exasperation he was doing his best not to unleash while outpack shifters gathered within easy earshot. "Don't you think it would be a better idea to just hang out here tonight? Rest up for tomorrow's negotiations?"

  I rolled my lupine eyes and ignored my milk brother's plea. Although a couple of years my senior, Chase had never attended All-Pack before, so he didn't realize that nothing important was going to happen either tonight or tomorrow. Everyone was all aflutter about the Princess Ball, but if you weren't on the market for a mate, All-Pack didn't really begin until the second full day after we all assembled.

  Which meant that now was the perfect time to do some illicit snooping and to figure out where my brother stood among the other alphas. Unfortunately, given the state of Chase's nerves, it looked like I'd probably be better off drifting through the crowd on my own this time around. So the question was—how to make that happen without having Chase trail along behind to make sure I didn't step in any metaphorical
cow pies?

  A normal alpha would have simply ordered his beta to stand down, but I instead shifted to human form and clasped Chase's shoulder in a comforting grip. "I promise that I won't get into trouble tonight," I offered, my words imbued with alpha reassurance. "I won't say a single word to anybody. If Justin sees me, I'll turn tail and run in the other direction. But I need to do this, Chase."

  As much as I hated to pin myself down with these reassurances, I knew it was worth it when I felt Chase's tense muscles ease beneath my hand. My milk brother and I both understood that I wouldn't go back on my word unless I absolutely had to, not after making a solid promise to my friend. So Chase didn't offer another complaint as I shifted to wolf form and slipped past him into the night.

  It felt good to be back on the hunt, even if my current quarry was considerably different from the rabbits I usually trailed. My blood brother's scent had teased me all day long, and it had taken all of my self-control to prevent my feet from taking me in his direction earlier that evening, before my pack mates settled into their tents. Now, stepping out of the tent that I shared with my milk brother, I immediately smelled Justin's gun-metal signature, barely noticing the woodsy overtones that were too much like my own for my nose to fully register. Unrelated shifters probably parsed Justin's scent very differently, but to me, my blood brother smelled like cold, dangerous steel. An aroma that suited his personality to a tee.

  Raising my nose to the air, I found it a simple matter to hunt that metallic odor to its source. Predictably, Justin had located his warriors on the opposite side of the large camping field from our hereditary enemies, the Wilders, and I could tell that he had brought no women and children along for the ride. Instead, my blood brother had surrounded his encampment with the most muscle-bound shifters he could find, half in lupine form and the remaining number settling two-legged around a campfire as they wound down for the evening.

  Scared much, brother? I couldn't resist laughing silently at Justin's attempt to protect himself from the other alphas. Like me, every pack leader present would know that only the weak felt the need to surround themselves with such a large retinue of hefty guards. Didn't Justin realize that the power plays between alphas were won more often by the perception of superior power than by overt physical strength? Bravado nearly always beat brawn.

  But my amusement ended abruptly when I caught another familiar aroma drifting on the breeze beneath my brother's, a scent that I certainly hadn't expected to discover at All-Pack. Apple cider and cinnamon, just like the outpack drifter who had peed upon my cairns.

  And I didn't even need to hear the young werewolf yelp before I smelled his outpouring of pain and despair.

  Chapter 3

  "Perhaps you should've thought twice before trespassing."

  Despite recent promises to my milk brother, the outpack drifter's scent had drawn me in like a bee to honey. As a result, I'd been unable to resist slipping past the guards' defenses and sidling closer to the dark corner of Justin's campsite where the drifter was being held, which is why I could now make out Justin's words so clearly. And as I listened, I noticed that my blood brother's voice had deepened since I last heard him speak...but that his words were just as harsh as I recalled.

  As were his actions. The poor kid—because I could see now that the drifter hadn't yet achieved his full height—was strung up by a chain slung over a low branch and then manacled to the drifter's wrists, forcing the teenager to stand on tiptoes to prevent his arms from being wrenched out of their sockets. Who brings manacles to All-Pack? I pondered, then answered my own question: A new alpha wanting to throw his weight around as much as possible and hoping the other packs will think twice before giving him a hard time.

  Sure enough, although nearby shifters were sneaking glances toward the cries of pain emanating from this dark corner of the Young encampment, no one else had come close to offer assistance to the drifter. After all, Justin was technically within his rights in punishing the trespasser, even if his actions were distasteful. Presumably, the drifter had wandered onto Justin's land soon after leaving mine, and my blood brother had been unwilling to let the minor infraction slide. As alpha, Justin possessed free rein to do everything up to and including putting the kid to death...although that last punishment seemed unbearably harsh for such a young shifter who'd acted stupidly rather than with malice aforethought.

  I couldn't see what was going on quite as clearly as I could hear the results, but the snap of a twig followed by a moan proved that my blood brother was quite willing to go beyond humiliation and into physical punishment to get his way. On the other hand, although painful, the slash of a twig was unlikely to do much lasting harm to Justin's prisoner. Big brother is toying with the poor kid, I realized. But to what end?

  "Are you willing to tell me why you came sniffing around my pack now?" Justin demanded as the kid cringed away from his captor. I'd slunk a little closer, careful to stay downwind and to keep my lupine form shielded by the winter-bare shrubbery around me. But it soon became evident that I needn't have bothered with subterfuge. Justin was too intent upon his own prey to realize that he was being hunted in turn.

  "Did my brother send you?" the alpha continued, slapping the twig switch against one open hand in irritation that his questions weren't being answered. Before him, the kid merely shook his head wearily but refused to speak.

  Ah, so that's his point. Somehow or other, Justin had found out where the drifter had begun his trespassing career, and had probably gotten it into his paranoid brain that I'd sent the boy his way as a spy. What, exactly, I was supposed to want to discover about my brother was beyond me, but a flash of guilt sent a shiver down my spine despite the fur standing between me and the cold night. Chase had been right, as usual. I should have tracked the drifter down before he dug himself deeper into trouble. Suddenly, this teenager felt even more like my responsibility than he had previously, and I resolved to stop this charade as soon as possible.

  Okay, who was I kidding? The second I smelled the teenager's happy-go-lucky scent charring into the flavor of burnt apple pie in the night air, I knew that I was going to break my vow to my milk brother and would end up getting us all into trouble. The question was, how to free the kid without bringing Justin's entire army down around my pack's ears?

  "Nothing to say?" Justin asked as I stood pondering my options. The alpha continued to pace around the bound prisoner, and for the first time in seven years, I was treated to a glimpse of my blood brother's face.

  I stifled a gasp. Chief Wilder hadn't been kidding. Watching Justin move through the moonlight was a bit like seeing myself in a fun-house mirror. On the surface, we looked so similar that we could have been twins, from our dark hair cut short above our broad shoulders down to long, lean legs. I suspected that if we stood back to back, Justin might be an inch taller than me now, but the physical differences were too minor to really notice.

  Inside, on the other hand, Justin's wolf looked nothing like my own. My blood brother's animal half was greedily taking in the sight of the prisoner's pain. And when the drifter whimpered, Justin's wolf raised its snout into a triumphant—if silent—howl.

  My own nostrils flared in response, and I had to force myself to drop down into a crouch and to close my eyes rather than leaping to the prisoner's defense immediately. So I heard rather than saw my brother's open-handed slap striking the drifter's cheek.

  The action was another taunt and was so typical of my brother, Justin's way of saying that the prisoner wasn't man enough to handle a real punch. Also as usual, the older alpha appeared to have underestimated his opponent, because the kid's voice didn't shake when he finally spoke.

  "I told you already that I don't know your brother from Adam," the drifter said, and he sounded so much like Chase that I opened my eyes to make sure my friend hadn't followed me out into the dark night. Nope, it was still just Justin and the pimply-faced youngster present. Although, when I peered closer, I saw that the boy's wolf wasn't as cowed as
I might have supposed. Instead, the animal seemed to be biding its time, waiting for a chance to break away and flee into the night.

  It was then that I decided to be brave and stupid and get the boy out before morning. I didn't want to wait until Justin managed to break the kid's spirit...or until the drifter got on my brother's last nerve and turned the torture session into an execution. And, to my delight, it looked like Justin was going to give me just the opportunity I craved.

  "How about I let you hang out in the cold and think about whether that's your final answer, hmm?" Justin said at last, chuckling slightly at his own pun. The laugh was fake, though, proving that the alpha was as annoyed as I'd been impressed by his prisoner's mettle.

  When no pleas were forthcoming, Justin turned on his heel and stalked out of the clearing, passing a pair of guards who had been stationed thirty feet away in order to keep a clearly incapacitated prisoner in line. These shifters weren't as heartless as their master, though, and both sneaked glances back at the strung-up teenager before one gathered his courage, cleared his throat, and halted Justin with a single word.

  "Chief?" the shifter asked, then clearly wished he hadn't when Justin's cold glare sent the shifter's wolf cowering beneath his skin.

  "What?" my brother demanded, tapping one foot impatiently at having his grand exit delayed. Once again, I rose to my feet and padded a little closer so I could hear the exchange more clearly. Not that I needed proximity to feel Justin's annoyance filling the air.