Fated Magic (Claimed by Wolves 1)

I do as he asks, though I’m wary of the tools in his hands. Elder Jihoon is so calm and unassuming, just being in his presence has calmed me after the spectacle in the barn. His peaceful demeanor doesn’t exactly make me amenable to being within reach of those metal rods though. I stiffen and keep my hands loose, ready to bat the things away if they get too close.

Both metal rods are thin and taper to sharp points. Elder Jihoon holds them by wooden handles that are separate from that actual metal and curve downward at a ninety-degree angle. When I glance at Ridge, he just gives me an encouraging nod that isn’t really helpful against the terror I’m struggling to hold back.

Elder Jihoon walks around me with the rods pointing straight at my body. He moves slowly, gently lowering and raising the rods from my head to my abdomen as he walks. I watch with a sense of odd detachment as the rods dangle and shift seemingly on their own.

How the hell did I come to be here? Standing in this musty shed, smothered by the scent of a strong, heady incense as a strange old man waves sticks at me and three wolf shifters declare I belong to each of them.

How is this even real life?

But if I’m truly honest with myself, I’d rather be here amidst this chaos and insanity than back at Uncle Clint’s house worried about whether I’d end the day in blood and pain. This isn’t at all what I expected when I threw myself out of his car that night—hell, I’m not sure I expected anything; I certainly had no solid plan—but at least I’m still alive.

I stand stock still for so long in the drifting incense smoke that I lose all track of time or self. Is this really happening? Or is it happening to someone else and I’m already dead? Maybe I died at the bottom of the ravine and everything else has been some weird fever dream in the afterlife.

Finally, the old man steps away and lowers his metal sticks.

“The dowsing rods do not lie,” he intones. “Though we cannot be sure until she manifests, I do believe there is a wolf inside this woman.”

13

Sable

The elder’s words send a rush of surprise through me, and I blink away some of the daze.

There’s a wolf in me?

Looking around at the men who are watching me, I try to work through the detachment I feel. Ridge, Trystan, Archer, even the two elders, these men are all wolves.

Wolf shifters, specifically.

Part man, part animal.

I was able to work through the initial shock when Ridge revealed the truth to me while we sat on his bed this morning. It still sounded bat shit crazy, but I saw that man in his living room shift into a wolf. Seeing is believing, right?

But… me? I can’t even process the possibility. I’m just a girl. A girl with an uncle who’s been vicious, cruel… and inhuman.

The thought jogs my brain and shakes away the last of the cobwebs. Could Clint be a shifter, too? Were my parents? They must’ve been, if I am.

“How?” The word comes out choked and almost too low to be decipherable. “Wouldn’t I know? I’ve… I’ve never shifted in my life.”

Elder Jihoon places his metal rods on the table and sits on the couch with the stiff movements of a man with aching joints. He taps his chest with a single arthritic finger. “That’s not surprising. Your wolf lives inside you. If a shifter is not raised to embrace the wolf from the beginning, the beast will wait until you are ready before emerging.”

Maybe his words are meant to be reassuring, but if they are, they miss the mark. Then again, I’m not sure there’s much that could reassure me right now.

I sink down to the scratchy couch cushions beside the elder, my head feeling light and airy.

“Why wouldn’t my uncle have told me?” I ask, horrified to find my voice still isn’t cooperating. The detachment is trying to creep back in, and I’m fighting the urge to rip Elder Jihoon’s incense burner off the wall and chuck it out the window. I’m suffocating under the thick smoke as yet another panic attack tries to manifest inside me.

But Ridge is apparently getting a handle on the “Sable is on the verge of disintegrating” mumble. He puts a soft hand on my shoulder, letting its weight rest there without holding on to me. His expression softens as he murmurs, “It’s not outside the realm of possibility that your uncle has no pack. Even your parents might not have had a pack.”

Archer, who’s leaning against the arm of the couch, nods his agreement. “With the way packs have splintered in recent years, we’ve seen an uptick in lone wolves. Shifters who think they’ll be safer alone. So there are plenty of solitary wolves out there.”

Trystan scoffs and rolls his eyes. He’s the farthest from the couch, standing near the wall by the front door as if he’s wary about stepping farther into the elder’s house. Despite his obvious disregard for what Archer said, he doesn’t elaborate on his disagreement. Whatever history the two have, and whatever the backstory there is to the “lone wolves” they’re talking about, I honestly can’t fathom adding either to my current list of things to deal with.

“So where do we go from here?” Elder Barton asks, his brow wrinkling. “The girl is a shifter, so obviously she’s welcome on our lands. But the mating situation is… problematic.”

“Perhaps two of you are mistaken?” Elder Jihoon asks, squinting at the three men.

Too late, he realizes what a Pandora’s box he’s opened. Arguments and insistences start flying at a volume level way too high for such a small house. I collapse back against the couch cushions and do my best to shut out the sound, closing my eyes. I don’t want to sit here and listen to them argue yet again, no matter how “strongly” they “feel the bond.” I don’t want to watch them hurl insults at one another because they don’t believe they can all be mated to one woman.