Dark Wolf (Claimed by Wolves 3)

The woman eyes me warily, and I flush, trying to ignore the fact that I lost my clothes in the shift and am now standing before a strange woman absolutely naked. I’ve only just started getting comfortable shifting back naked in front of my mates or other shifters, but this is different. Being naked in front of a stranger makes me feel vulnerable and bare. Especially a stranger who just tried to kill me, and one I need to somehow convince to help me.

“I promise you, your eyes aren't deceiving you,” I tell her, working to keep my voice steady. I keep my hands raised to show that I have no w

eapon and no intention to harm her. “It’s true. I’m half witch, half shifter. I only recently discovered the truth, when my witch side and wolf side manifested separately. Before that happened, I thought I was just an ordinary human. I had no knowledge of any of this for years. I wasn’t raised as a shifter or a witch. I was raised human and never told about what I really was.”

The woman doesn’t interrupt me, though her eyes narrow slightly as she watches and listens. I can tell she’s on edge, just like my men—all of whom basically radiate tension beside me. I don’t need to be in wolf form to read their minds on this. They don’t like being this close to a witch, and they don’t like the ever-present possibility that she might attack us again. I can’t really say I blame them for being suspicious, but I really hope none of them attack.

If they do, the witch will fight back. And she’ll probably win.

“I’m Sable,” I say when she remains silent. “What’s your name?”

She gives a little start, like she didn’t expect me to be so personal. Several emotions pass over her face, but since she’s a complete stranger, I can’t really read them all. Fear, distrust, hope, I don’t know. She seems to consider not answering me, her face set in a hard, suspicious glare. I’m already calculating how I’ll handle the situation if she refuses to speak to me, but then she finally opens her mouth.

“My name is Gwen.” Now that her tone isn’t laced with shock, I can tell that she has an accent. Like a light Georgia drawl, as if she spent time down south but didn’t necessarily grow up there.

I’m encouraged by the fact she answered after considering not doing so. Maybe this means I’ve made a little progress, despite the tension that still fills the air between us all. Since my mates are all still in wolf form, and I’m trying to build goodwill between me and the witch, I refrain from introducing them yet, or even acknowledging their presence. There will be time for that once I’ve diffused the danger of this situation—if I’m able manage that. For now, there’s no need to draw attention to the fact that there are wolves behind me who would love to rip out her throat.

“Gwen. It’s… it’s nice to meet you. I hope you’ll spare me a bit of your time,” I say quietly, feeling as if I’m navigating a minefield with every word. “We come in peace. We want no trouble, and I promise that we won’t harm you as long as we maintain a truce.”

The witch crosses her arms over her chest. She’s wearing practical clothes—a long-sleeved shirt with faded pants and heavy boots. None of it looks new or particularly elegant, but somehow, there’s still an otherworldly quality about her, a kind of ethereal beauty that shines through her plain clothing.

She doesn’t accept or deny my proposition, only says, “Why are you here?”

“We heard you’re… unattached.” I hesitate slightly, stumbling over my words. That term doesn’t seem quite right for the situation, but I’m not sure what the correct phrasing is. “Um, unaffiliated with a coven. A solitary witch. We’ve come to ask you for help.”

“I don’t have any help to give.” Gwen lifts her chin stiffly, her voice cool. “You might have taken the hint that I want to stay far out of both pack and coven business. Why do you think I live all the way up here? I know where the pack lands are. You must’ve had to trek through dozens of miles of wilderness to find me. That’s a pretty big damn clue I’m not interested in whatever fight you’re chasing.”

I take a step forward. “We aren’t chasing a fight.”

All four of my men growl and move to follow closely on my heels, but I hold out a hand to stop them. They halt, though I can sense they aren’t happy with the situation, especially when I take one more step forward.

“I love these men,” I tell Gwen, motioning to the wolves behind me. “We’re mated. All of us. But with the power of my witch half and the wolf power swirling around inside me, things keep going wrong. I keep manifesting witch magic. I’m terrified I’m going to hurt one of them. I’ve tried to learn control, to practice what little I could. But I need help from someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Gwen’s eyebrows shoot up. Her green eyes are alight with interest now. “Mated? To all four of them?”

“Yes.”

“How unusual. A wolf-witch hybrid mated to four men…” The witch trails off, her shrewd gaze studying each wolf in turn.

She seemed floored by the fact that I’m both witch and wolf, but her sudden interest in the mate bond worries me. It occurred to me then that maybe I shouldn’t have let Gwen know about that particular secret. Even in shifter circles, a female mating with more than one male is apparently rare and non-traditional.

But it’s too late now. I’m all in, and if this is the piece of the puzzle that gets the witch to agree to help us, then so be it.

“All right,” Gwen finally says with a decisive nod. “Come inside, and I’ll see what I can do.”

She turns on her heel and strides off toward the cabin, not even bothering to check to see if we were following.

I hesitate, watching her squared shoulders march away from us. Could this be a bad idea? Could this be some kind of trap?

Well, it definitely could be.

But is it? And is it worth the risk?

My men glance at each other, obviously debating amongst themselves in mindspeak. I’m sure they noticed the same thing I did—how deeply intrigued Gwen was by the mate bond—and they likely harbor some of my same worries. So I stand and wait, breath held, watching as Gwen vanishes through the door of her homestead, leaving it hanging open behind her.

My hands are shaking as I crouch by my backpack and reach inside for something to wear. It was hard enough to stand before that woman naked and exposed while I begged for her help—I’m definitely not staying that way. I pull out one of Amora’s tank tops and a pair of cotton pants that are just a little too big for me, then quickly pull on both and tighten the string on the pants as far as it will go.

I glance around at my mates, adrenaline buzzing like a swarm of bees beneath my skin. “I have to go in. I have to. Will you come with me?”