Page 13 of Wolf's Reckoning
“Thought I recognized something…” My jaw clenched, but Killian didn’t comment as we sat down. Conversation had been stilted since we crossed into the territory. The trees were so thick here that it was impossible to tell who was loitering. Listening.
A stocky wolf with a flat face caught my attention. He was speaking too loudly for someone that forgettable.
“We’re following in two days,” he was saying, trying to sound bored. Like the very thought of it was beneath him.
I saw the ones listening to him exchange looks; they weren’t impressed, but they did seem to “approve,” which made me pay closer attention.
He kept talking, voice oily now. I was surprised I couldn’t see it oozing out of him. “Best way to let instinct lead, don’t you think? The old ways honored. Who needs a fair chance when the bitch just needs rutted?” He smiled, like he’d said something clever.
I stilled.
Killian looked past me. “I hope thebitchguts him,” he said with a soft snort.
I grunted in agreement. I didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But the air around me changed. One of the Council members noticed. I saw the way his gaze flicked to me, then to Killian. Assessing. Calculating.
Trying to guess which of us carried the leash.
Killian saw him looking and smiled without showing teeth.
I didn’t bother. My attention was on flat face.
“You have competition,” one of the other males in his circle said. “I also hear she’s got an attitude.”
My wolf surged under my skin, pacing, restless. I didn’t know who they were talking about, but I knew I didn’t like it.
Killian’s hand on my wrist stilled me. “Not here,” he murmured. “Let them talk. If they’re lucky, whoever she is will leave their balls attached.” He made a show of looking them up and down. “Might be better for the gene pool if they were removed though.”
I grinned.
“Wolfe.”
I turned to see a shaman in front of me. Pure white eyes stared right through me. Killian became unnaturally still.
“Shaman,” I greeted, conscious of several pairs of eyes on me.
“Walk with me, young one.”
It wasn’t a request, and I knew better than to refuse. Killian rose with me, and I think we were both appreciative of the fact that the shaman didn’t tell him to stay. We didn’t speak until the shaman led us to a small enclosure within the marquee, and then through a turn, and we were in his private chamber.
I felt the magic of a shaman, and looking over my shoulder, I could see no barrier, but I knew there would be one. No one would be able to hear what he said to us.
“Your first Pack Council,” the shaman saidconversationally as he sat down with a sigh that sounded very much like relief.
Killian and I exchanged a look. “Yeah,” I answered, watching him closely.
He nodded, his gaze on me. “Were the rites met?”
Killian looked more alert, and I felt my own hackles rise. “They were.”
The shaman leaned forward and inhaled deeply, and I didn’t need to be told that he was scenting me. “Not all,” he murmured. He got to his feet and started shuffling around his room, while Killian and I stood like spare parts, not entirely sure what was going on.
Within minutes, the shaman was mixing herbs and muttering under his breath. He held out a clay cup to me with an obnoxious smelling brew inside it.
“Drink.”
My instinct was to tell him to fuck off. My head told me to reach out and take it. Killian leaned forward and sniffed and backed off quickly, grinning.
“Asshole,” I grumbled as I took the cup from the shaman. “What is it?” I asked him.
