Cursed Mate (Feral Shifters 3)

So we travel quickly, digging deep into our energy reserves to race headlong across state lines. Micro-naps and brief pauses to eat or drink are the only breaks we allow, and surprisingly, nobody falls behind. I assume the weaker shifters are still running on pure adrenaline.

Most of the adrenaline has faded by the time we cross the state line into Wyoming, but it doesn’t matter. We keep pushing anyway.

When we finally reach the Silver Crest pack’s boundaries two days later, a heavy feeling falls over the group. Felicity’s shifters slow, as if dreading to bring the news of her death to those left back home.

Many of the wolves limp or nurse wounds that have yet to fully heal, and it doesn’t take more than a glance to understand every one of them is completely demoralized by what happened. It’s late in the day, and although the last rays of the sun paint the buildings with a warm, glowing light, despair hangs around us like a weight in the air.

When pack members begin to emerge from their cabins to greet us, Cormac shifts to human form and takes the lead. He speaks softly to every man or woman he passes, and I watch, fascinated, as each of them immediately strips their clothes and shifts. Like dominoes falling into place, they fall into line with the returning pack and begin to howl.

It’s a repeat of the mourning howl that pierced the mountains back in Colorado, only this time, the entire pack joins in. Once the call begins, news of Felicity’s death spreads swiftly, and the crowd of crying wolves around us grows as we walk through the middle of their camp.

The sound rises into the air, and I feel something raw and ragged inside me that I don’t quite understand. As I watch the Silver Crest pack mourn their fallen leader, an ache spreads through my chest. The pain settles deep—not physical like a broken bone or gashed skin, but something more abstract.

Cormac leads us all to the amphitheater where Felicity secured our alliance, and everyone begins to file onto the stone benches. Some remain in their wolf forms, while a few shift back to human form. I notice a few wary glances cast our way, since Kian, Malix, and I are still in our shadow wolf shapes, and I nudge Kian before letting the shadows sink back into me. My brothers follow suit, and Amora shifts to human form too.

Her expression is drawn, her skin paler than usual. I place my fingertips at her lower back and guide her to a bench near the front of the theater. She casts me a thankful gaze and leans into my touch ever so slightly before taking a seat between myself and Malix.

Cormac sits at the edge of the raised stage and looks out grimly over the crowd. Several of his closest comrades sit around him, all of them wearing identical expressions of horror and devastation. The ginger-haired man doesn’t need to call for silence. When the howls stopped, so did all conversation. Only the soft brush of wind across the rocks and the sharp, piercing call of a hawk can be heard somewhere close by but unseen.

Cormac visibly chews on the inside of his cheek as he surveys the silent, grieving pack. Finally, he speaks.

“As you’ve discovered by now, Felicity, our fearless alpha, has fallen in battle. She fought courageously and will forever be remembered as the shining light upon which the Silver Crest pack began.”

A low murmur arises over the stands, punctuated by a few sobs and sniffles.

What would it be like to be loved so thoroughly? To be grieved by so many? My entire existence, for the most part, I’ve only had Malix and Kian. Only ever expected them to even care if something were to happen to me. This is a testament to Felicity’s legacy.

“Another four of our number did not return with us,” Cormac says softly. “They, too, fell in battle. Upon arrival, my men notified the families of the four shifters and escorted them to the longhouse for the space to grieve.”

The crowd rustles and shuffles, heads turning as if the wolves are trying to figure out who is missing.

“As Felicity’s long time second in command, the mantle of alpha now automatically falls to me,” Cormac goes on. “As is the custom, however, I open the floor for anyone who wishes to challenge me for the position.”

The air and everything around us goes still except for Amora’s hand, which snaps out and latches onto my knee. I can feel the tension in her body reaching a breaking point. I don’t know if her reaction is specifically in regards to worry that there’s about to be more violence or what, but I slide my hand over hers and interlace our fingers.

Several loaded moments pass, but nobody speaks up.

Cormac nods. “I truly appreciate your support, and I swear upon Felicity’s memory that I will serve you faithfully and protect you as best I can from all threats, great and small.”

The pack responds with a chorusing grunt that sounds a bit like a low bark. I assume it’s some kind of supportive affirmation, but I don’t have any history to go on. Felicity ran things differently here than Quinton did with our old pack.

“First order of business,” Cormac goes on, his tone becoming more clipped and business like. “I want extra patrols on our border. Four wolves on patrol at all times, maintaining a once an hour rotation.” He glances over his freckled shoulder. “Harley, can you handle coming up with a schedule and a roster for that?”

One of the men behind him nods.

Cormac turns back around and his green gaze flicks over the crowd. “Now, as for our magical defenses… Naomi… Naomi, where are you?”

Three rows back from us, a curvy, dark-haired girl not much older than Amora stands. “I’m here, alpha.”

“Can you get in touch with your contacts in the nearby coven? We need stronger magical defenses.”

She blanches. “I don’t have the same ties to them that Felicity did.”

“It’s all right,” Cormac assures her. “You went with her every time she visited them, so they know you and trust you. Tell them what happened, and offer them whatever they want in return for sending some of their best witches out to reset our protections.”

Naomi nods. “Yes, alpha.”

“Quinton may be coming,” Cormac says, his voice rising as he addresses the crowd as a whole. “We cannot know when he’ll arrive or how long we’ll have to prepare for that eventuality. Coming up with a new plan to fight him off—for good, this time—is our main priority. We will avenge Felicity’s death by finally destroying his evil once and for all.”

Several shifters in the crowd behind us let out savage whoops, and Cormac smiles grimly at the sound, although there’s an undercurrent of sadness in his expression.

A good second in command—a true partner—never wants to become alpha, because that means they lose their closest friend and confidante.

As the battle cry dies away, Cormac speaks again. “Those of you who were a part of the mission and the attack, you’re dismissed for the evening. Return to your homes and rest so that you may awaken sharp and refreshed tomorrow.” He glances toward my brothers, Amora, and me. “You four as well. You can stay in the same cabin as before. We’ll meet early in the morning to discuss our next moves.”

With that directive, all of the shifters involved in the mission to Blood Moon lands leave the meeting. We file from the amphitheater, a quiet, visibly exhausted lot.

It’s cooler away from the crowd, and the sun has dropped beyond the horizon, setting the purple sky ablaze with stars. I’m more comfortable away from so many bodies, alone with only my brothers and my mate. The farther we walk from the theater, the more the shadows settle inside me. Relief runs through me like cool water, chasing away the lingering tension from my constant fight to keep my shadows at bay.

Then I glance at Amora, and my relief dies.

She looks haunted, more so even than she’s looked ever since the night of the battle. Her abnormal silence hasn’t gone unnoticed, either, although it isn’t as if we weren’t all tongue-tied after what happened. Still, it’s obvious she’s bothered. Sad, upset, depressed, worried… any amalgamation of emotions I can’t quite read in her.

What I can read, however, is that the thing bothering her is rooted in much more than Felicity’s death or the botched mission. It’s something bigger than that.

Malix interrupts my thoughts, making a noise in his throat. “Uh. Anyone remember where our cabin is?”

Kian grunts and looks around, halting in his bare feet on the dusty path. “Shit.”

I consider rolling my eyes but it seems like too much work. “Follow me.”

The cabin is dark when we arrive, but the door is unlocked and the main room smells of a citrusy cleaner that reminds me of Amora. Someone has left us clean towels and blankets, and the closet has been restocked with new hand-me-downs.

Amora brushes past me, clearly lost in thought. I follow, intending to reach for her and ask her what’s wrong. Ask her to talk to me. Talk to us.

But before I can reach her, she strides straight to the bathroom door and disappears inside.

The lock clicks firmly into place.