Page 31 of Son of a Witch

“Thanks.” Blaze gave her a nod, staring down the assembly of curious and worried shifters, moving us to the worn path leading to the Alpha’s cabin.

Uncomfortable among the shifters, I rolled my stiff shoulders, held high and protectively if I needed to defend myself. The move set off a stabbing throb. Residual pain from the Alpha Lycan who bit me and injected werewolf venom into my system. Poisoned flesh hadn’t healed properly, even with the administration of antivenom. I bit back the pain, letting no sign of it cross my face. Animals never showed weakness among their kind. Survival of the fittest.

A little shifter about five years old squeaked and hid behind a bush. The softer side of me wanted to go to her, offer my hand, tell her there was no threat. Shame my wolf’s instincts were on alert and muscles primed to get the hell out of here at the first sign of danger.

The shifters didn’t want me here. They sensed my strength. The wild ferocity of my beast. The power of the Lycan coursing through my blood. Their blood was diluted and smelled weaker and watery. Wolf shifters carried on four legs didn’t stand a chance against a half-breed like me. Strength to employ against them if necessary to escape.

Apart from that threat, I must have looked like a scary motherfucker on the outside. Tattoos on my arms, chest, and on my neck. Marks from the prison. Bored moments where I had nothing better to do. No different from my tribe—ex tribe—painting themselves for ceremonies. Only mine was permanent. Symbols of my mother’s people. Animals mostly.

I rubbed my arm, proud of my family, taking them with me everywhere. A dotted snake curled around my bicep to represent the Dream Time of my mother’s people where all creation spawned. The possum carrying her young on her back: my mother taking me with her everywhere. To the protective, fiery goanna for my Little Wolf. A Galah for Knoxe, a pink-chested, bloodied warrior and leader, the picture of strength, resilience, and adaptability. On to a hopping kangaroo for Tor, the ruthless warrior with a nurturing side, carrying his family with him in his figurative pouch, providing for them always. Last, the shy platypus, a beaver-like creature with a bill on its face, a symbol of uniqueness that encapsulated my brother, Pascal.

Gray clouds sucked the light from the sky to match my somber mood and the loneliness tugging at my chest.

Growls rolled up the throat of one shifter who stepped into my path. Shoulders back, neck long, chest out, I returned the gesture, and he backed down, sliding out of the way.

“Bring it down a notch, big guy,” Luna warned from my side, folding a hand over mine. “Don’t get them offside before you’ve met them.”

“They’re already offside,” I growled back, glaring at the men coming to line the worn path to the central cabin. Surrounding and protecting their Alpha.

I tore my gaze away from them momentarily to study the cabin. Hardwood logs formed the rugged outside wall construction. Gabled roof made of shingles. Smoke curled from a rustic stone chimney. The breeze carried the scent of stew with meat and vegetables, freshly baked bread, and cookies. Cozy like the den of a wolf.

My stomach burbled with the demand to fill it. Three days, and not a single thing passed these lips. Just water. How could I eat when separated from my mate?

Luna’s palm came to my arm, warm and encouraging. “We pulled some strings to get you into this place. Don’t mess it up. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”

Homeless. Packless. Mateless. Unsafe. Alone. Starving.

Luna was right. They brought me to a shifter safe haven that took in strays like me. Gratitude dispelled the knot in my chest that Little Wolf sent her friends to find me, that they promised to assist me in the hunt for the box. More than I deserved when we never met before the day of Tor’s incident.

Thank the Munyara I was alive, fit, and healthy, only suffering slight twinges of pain from the damage to my flesh caused by Lycan venom. That I was out of the prison and free to move where I pleased. Able to fight to get my family freed and where they belonged with me.

I ordered my wolf to back down. We needed somewhere to lay low if the Guardian hunters came after me. It could put Luna and her harem in danger, but that was the risk they took to repay a debt to my mate.

Beyond that, I needed somewhere to settle, earn an income, grow food in a garden, hunt and catch meat or fish. Provide for my mate and my pack when the evidence I found freed them. Like hell they were staying in some hotel somewhere dining on takeout while they waited to sign a lease in a rental. No, they would stay with me wherever I set myself up. The vibe here didn’t scream welcome, and I didn’t get my hopes up.

For the first time since arriving, I took in the setting of the pack of shifters that Luna thought might take me in. Three rows of log cabins, larger facilities with laundry, and community gardens growing all sorts of plants and fruit. A long stretch of clothesline secured between trees. Three large sheds lined together that probably stored a tractor or ride-on mowers. Barns for horses, paddocks with livestock, and coops housing chickens. Wood piles stocked to the hilt a few hundred feet from the cabins to keep the snakes and mice away from the children.

Nestled into the side of a mountain, the camp was well sheltered by plenty of trees and shade, pockets cut down to build small two-bedroom log cabins. A decent place for shifters to get set up with privacy from the outside world, a community, fenced off from intruders, and in the depths of the wilderness. Right up my alley.

Luna and Blaze led me up the stairs of a cabin, the porch long and wide, stocked with a swinging chair, lounge, and a garden table with two seats. A feminine touch.

The sweetly scented female outstretched a fist and knocked on the door. It immediately snapped open and a man about six feet five slid out first, nose raised, sniffing me, his stormy gray gaze penetrating and assessing. Wary, I stood still, eyes on him, letting his wolf examine me for threats.

My two human companions exchanged a glance at the macho show of aggression as he circled me, fangs extended, claws at the ready, gaze sweeping from head to toe, assessing my scent. Hackles on the back of my neck rose at the intense scrutiny from the guarded, smaller male. I held back my wolf from growling when he moved behind me. Only cowards jumped a wolf from behind.

Being jumped from behind by spineless inmates was a regular occurrence when I first entered the Guardians. Now I knew how to defend myself, and my wolf rose to the challenge of another beast.

A small female about my mate’s size inched out of the doorway. Teal hair, curvy for days, full lips, and a generous swell of breasts. Carried his scent and his mark on her neck.Mates.

My knees buckled, and I lost some height. Howls erupted inside me. Protests from leavingherbehind. The inside of my ribcage bled from all the scratching he kept up. All. Day. All. Night. I ached everywhere. Chest. Throat. Fingers and palms from clutching them in fists.

Immediately, the male abandoned his examination, and rushed to her, his arm holding her back. His eyes flashed silver, communicating she was his.

“Dammit, Dash, stop being so protective.” She shoved at his arm, but it didn’t budge from her abdomen. “This is my pack. Let me handle this.”

I raised a brow as he growled and came to stand slightly in front of her, pissing her off more, earning an elbow to his side. Protective, edgy, and insulted at her bossing him in front of others, he rumbled at her to find her place. Strong little female chided him right back and the interaction reminded me of my fiery Little Wolf.

Get back in your place, bitch.Owned by his Alpha female. I only let my mate own me in the bedroom. He growled again at my smug grin. Off to a great start already.

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