Wolf's Prize, page 1
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Wolf’s Prize
BRIDES FOR BEASTS
CANDACE AYERS
KYM DILLON
Contents
Introduction
1. Mari
2. Rex
3. Mari
4. Rex
5. Rex
6. Mari
7. Rex
8. Mari
9. Mari
10. Rex
11. Mari
12. Mari
13. Rex
Epilogue
** This book is a standalone, but many of the characters were introduced in the previous series, Brides for Beasts: Bears. **
Chapter 1
Mari
I inhale deeply.
Ah, the scent of freedom. For the first time in six years, I’m on the outside of the ten-foot-high fence topped with razor wire. The wind tousles my hair as I scan the deserted road, daydreaming of a white limo pulling up, Project Runway style, and whisking me off to a five-star spa for some much-needed pampering.
Right now, freedom smells stale. Like sweat, concrete, and dashed hopes.
I should be happy. I am happy. Kinda. Yippee, I’m finally done serving my time for a crime I didn't commit. I know, everyone claims innocence. In my case, it’s true.
I can't keep standing here sniffing the air, but I have nowhere to go. I clutch my prison-issued bus pass like it's a winning lotto ticket when the sad truth is, it's a useless piece of cardboard. The bus route ends at the gas station fifteen miles from here. Then what?
I have no money, no resources, no family, no friends, and no white limo to magically whisk me away. I let out a sigh, and start the depressing half-mile trudge to the bus stop. What I have on my person—the outfit I’m wearing, a cell phone with no charger, and a purse containing a mirror, lipstick, a few six-year-old crumpled receipts, and a pack of stale gum—are the sum total of my worldly possessions. That’s just sad.
You’re probably wondering about my crime, right? I trusted the wrong guy.
My ex, Jason—aka Mr. Smooth Talker—betrayed my trust in the worst possible way. I didn’t have a clue he was a drug dealer until he left me holding the bag and looking guilty as hell.
Yep, I was a patsy. Zero stars. Do not recommend.
What can I say? I was naive—no street savvy whatsoever. I grew up in a place that was a cross between a strict religious cult and a Hallmark movie. You know, the kind where everyone knows everyone's business, and they all gather 'round the table for Sunday dinner with a side of judgment and condemnation.
While I endured six years of dodging shivs and swapping cigs for hair gels, the entire Jehovah’s Flock community turned their back on me.
Including my own parents.
Prudence and Gerald Baker declined every collect call from the correctional facility until I finally got the message and stopped calling them altogether. The letter disowning me arrived a week later. Super awesome. Parents of the year.
As I shuffle along, mulling over my very limited options, a sleek black sedan pulls up beside me. My first thought is that it’s an unmarked cop car. My shoulders hunch involuntarily and I tense, ready to bolt. But the tinted window lowers and I'm met with the chiseled visage of a distinguished gentleman in a crisp suit. I don’t see a badge.
"Marigold Baker?" he asks in a cultured baritone.
Is he talking to me? Like an idiot, I look over my shoulder. You know, in case there’s another Marigold Baker behind me or something. There isn’t.
"Uh… I prefer Mari if you don't mind.” Marigold sounds like a tragic heroine in a Bronte novel.
He nods and steps out of the car. He’s tall—very tall—and good-looking in an important, fortune-500 CEO kind of way. "Mari it is then. My name is Aldous Von Drago. I have a proposal you may find interesting."
This is weird. What is a man in a bespoke suit—Brioni if I’m not mistaken or maybe Armani—doing outside Eagle Hills Correctional Facility?
Then something even weirder happens. His car drives off leaving him on the deserted sidewalk with me.
Although I'm wary, my curiosity is piqued.
I flash him a cheeky grin. "Let me guess, you're going to tell me I've inherited a vast oil fortune from a long-lost uncle."
His lip twitches in amusement. "Not exactly. I do, however, represent an organization looking for women who might be interested in a unique opportunity. One that comes with attractive...perks."
"If you're recruiting for a religious community or are about to tell me how I might be saved if I’m reborn, don’t waste your breath. I grew up in a cult and I can quote the Bible better than you can.”
The man’s jaw ticks. "No cults, I assure you. What I propose involves assisting a small, private community for which you will be compensated generously. Would you care to hear more?"
I pretend to mull it over, pursing my lips and twisting them to the side while he fights a grin. I guess he knows my social calendar is pretty empty. Which is another way of saying I have no other options.
"Oh alright, you twisted my arm. I'm all ears."
So he gives me the rundown on this so-called opportunity. Apparently, there’s a group of guys living way out in the boonies and they're short on women and need volunteer women to make babies to keep their community going and continue their lineage. And get this—they’re werewolves.
Wait. What?!
“Werewolves?!” I ask aloud.
“Well, they prefer to be called shapeshifters. Wolf shifters, to be precise.”
"Let me get this straight—you want me to move to the mountains, hook up with some furry stranger, and pop out a litter of…um…werewolf puppies? You're messing with me, right?" I look around for hidden cameras. “Am I being punked?”
Von Drago just smiles indulgently. "I assure you, this is no joke. These are honorable individuals seeking female volunteers. Room, board, and a sizable stipend will be provided to any woman selected for the program."
This whole thing sounds shady as hell. Yet…oddly enticing.
But I’ve been hoodwinked before. It cost me six years of my life and awarded me the lifelong label of convicted felon.
My eyes narrow. "Just how many baby daddies are we talking here?" I’m not a virgin, but my ex is the only man I’ve ever been with. Ugh. The thought of Jason makes me shudder in revulsion.
"Just one," he says mildly, like we're discussing the weather. "You'll be assigned to a single male for the program's duration."
"Uh-huh. And how long does this...assignment...last?"
"Six months to a little over a year generally, depending on variables."
Variables. Right. My bullshit detector is blaring like a foghorn, but honestly, it's not like I've got any more promising offers—or any offers at all.
When you're fresh out of prison with a criminal record job prospects aren't exactly plentiful. Maybe this crazy werewolf breeding program is just what I need to keep me from living in a cardboard box under the bridge.
Desperate times and all that.
Despite a few reservations—okay, more than a few, a whole laundry list of reservations—this will give me a new beginning.
“Exactly how much compensation are we talking?”
My eyes widen in astonishment when Von Drago quotes me a hefty sum for simply participating and more money than I’ve ever dreamed of if I get pregnant and give birth.
I mean, women do it all the time, right? Egg donors and surrogates. It’s a thing.
So I shrug and say, "What the hell, why not? Sign me up, Mr. Von Drago."
His pleased smile is mirrored by my own. I’m still a little leery of actually handing over my biological child to be raised by his or her father, but maybe fate is lighting up the way for me here. Showing me a path to a new beginning and a way to get my life back on track.
"Excellent. Let's get you started with intake. You’ll need to be in Timbercrest Village by the full moon where you'll be..." He pauses, seeming to search for the right word.
"Bred by a lucky stud?" I offer sarcastically.
He winces. "Introduced to your program match."
I give an airy wave. "Tomayto, tomahto."
I don't know what the future holds, but the past sucked and I’m ready to leave it behind. Just as I open my mouth to question Aldous Von Drago about what the intake involves, a helicopter appears above us.
I expect it to fly off, but it doesn’t. It hovers.
When Von Drago raises a hand, the helicopter slowly descends.
“W-what’s that?” I have to shout over the wind and dust the whirling blades kick up.
“That’s our ride,” Von Drago says.
It’s th
As the helicopter lifts off the ground, I give one last “so long” salute to Eagle Hills Correctional Facility—using my middle fingers. Both of them.
Chapter 2
Rex
Raucous laughter and off-key singing drift from the crowd gathered around the bonfire and assault my sensitive ears. Not to mention the stench. So many scents mingling turn my stomach. Sweat, ale, arousal. Yuck.
Why did I think venturing this close to the village was a good idea? I already regret it.
Big gatherings like this make my skin crawl. I’m itching to retreat to the wilderness, back to my den, back to my privacy and solitude.
I’m not in wolf form at the moment, another thing that is uncomfortable and awkward—skin. I feel clumsy and inept walking on two legs. I know what they say about me, that I’m wild, untamed, savage. A feral beast.
They’re not lying.
I’m tempted to turn around. So tempted. There's only one thing that could have prompted me to leave the quiet of my cave tonight and get this close to other shifters.
Her.
Even just the thought of leaving without her has my wolf so rattled I have to clench my jaw together to repress the loud howling that wants to burst from my throat. The tantalizing aroma slightly reminiscent of honey and wild berries that I picked up on the breeze got stronger the closer I ventured into the village. Now, it floats above the other scents and lures me like a siren's call. An irresistible intoxicant.
I recognized it instantly the second it wafted into my nostrils. Mate.
I tracked the scent here—to the heart of the village. To this gathering.
My mate is here. I'm certain of it. Her scent is unmistakable, weaving through all the other unpleasant odors. Hers is sweet and earthy, vibrant and rich. My entire being feels magnetically drawn to her aroma, like a flowering plant stretching toward the warmth of the sun. I have to find the source. I have to lay eyes on my female.
The wind shifts and her fragrance hits me anew, more concentrated now. There! On the ceremonial dais dressed in an ivory gown. Every cell in my body screams out for her. My cock thickens and lengthens, reaching toward her like a divining rod pointing the way.
Mine.
I must focus. My thoughts are swimming, I’m enchanted, dizzy, as though she has woven a spell around me, but I mustn’t lose my head. What is going on here?
My hackles rise when an elderly man takes her hand in his. How dare he lay hands on my mate. I grind my teeth, holding back a snarl. I have the urge to rip him apart. But he's no threat. He’s not a strong, virile wolf in his prime like I am. He’s more like a doddering grandfather.
I scrutinize the second male on the platform with her. Deke. The pack Alpha. He is one of the few wolves I am acquainted with in this pack, only because he bothers me a couple of times a year by entering my territory to “visit” me.
Deke is smiling but it doesn't reach his eyes. Interesting.
And then it hits me. A memory from long ago. From when I was a pup standing with my parents and older brothers near a bonfire like this one and watching another couple on the dais.
Fertility ceremony.
This time the sound, a low growl, does escape my throat.
That must be what's going on here, but I don't sense desire or possessiveness from Deke regarding my mate. I do feel an unusually high tension from the crowd. The very air feels charged with anticipation.
Murmurs reach my ears. "Human breeder...fresh blood...female pups..."
Breeder? I don't understand the context, but it doesn't sound favorable. Anger flares in me.
Before my mind can process it, a cocky wolf around my age strides forward wearing a shit-eating grin. "Challenge!" he yells loudly.
Challenge?
Ah, I see. He aims to win the female's favor through combat. Very well, I'll just have to—
“Forfeit,” Deke calls out.
Wait, why is the Alpha backing down so easily? The younger wolf is no match for Deke. What is going on here?
Why would a pack Alpha forfeit a challenge? And why does this challenger seem more amused than fierce?
Puzzling.
No time to analyze. This is my opening. I must win my mate. Prove to her that I’m worthy.
As the smug wolf saunters toward the dais, bristling with false bravado, I step out of the shadows. My voice, unused for weeks, possibly months, tears from my throat in a gravelly bellow. "Challenge!"
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Heads turn to gawk at me. I feel their stares but my gaze is trained on the beauty looking down at me. Even from this distance, I see curiosity mingled with apprehension on her lovely face. I try to assure her with my eyes not to worry, that I am the fiercest and strongest wolf here. Even Deke himself would not win against me. I will fight with all my strength and power to prove I am worthy of my precious mate.
Cocky Wolf appears stunned, his jaw loose and a stupid look on his arrogant face. In seconds, my wolf takes over and my muzzle furls into a warning snarl. As I rush him, he also shifts. His fighting style is undisciplined, sloppy. His attempts to counter my attack appear half-hearted at best and within seconds, I take him down, pinning him by the throat. Instead of conceding defeat, he whimpers like a coward for the alpha to intervene. Pathetic.
I release him with a derisive huff and turn my focus back to my mate who gifts me a shy, tremulous smile that makes my heart thud against my ribcage. She is frightened? I need to comfort and reassure her.
The Alpha steps in my path. Has Deke changed his mind? Does he now wish to fight me for her? Very well. I will vanquish the Alpha as well.
Rather than adopt a fighting stance, however, he merely studies me. His eyes narrow as though he’s assessing me, trying to ascertain my motives. “Change back,” he growls.
So, I shift into skin.
“What are you doing here?” Deke blurts before backpedaling. “I mean, you’re part of the pack, you’re always welcome to participate. It’s just…you haven’t come to the village in fifteen years and now you…” Deke pauses to rub his forehead. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I won her. She’s mine. I will fight every male in this crowd if I must, but I will have her. He lets out a long, slow resigned sigh.“You will not hurt her. If you do—”
I recoil as though he’s slapped me. Hurt her? I would never. One word escapes my throat—the second word I’ve uttered in months, “Mate.”
Deke’s eyes widen a fraction and then he nods slowly. “I see.” He studies me for a few more moments. “As I was saying, if you hurt her in any way, I will end you. I will take you down myself.” I know what he’s saying. He’ll kill me if harm comes to her. I respect that, but he needn’t worry. I will treasure her, feed her, care for her, and continue to prove my worth as a protector, provider, and mate.
Deke looks uncomfortable but acquiescence simmers in his gaze.
He turns to the crowd. "He won her fairly," Deke states simply. “Unless there’s another challenger?” Is it my imagination or does Deke sound hopeful, as though he wishes for a challenger?
Several males in the crowd take a step back. That’s wise. I will tear them to shreds if they try to intervene.
With no further obstacles, I approach the dais where my mate awaits.
Chapter 3
Mari
This is not at all how I envisioned my first night with the wolf shifters going. When I signed on to be a "surrogate" as part of this whole BfB deal, I guess I expected something a little more clinical and business-like. Maybe meet the future baby daddy, get artificially inseminated in a clinic, be prescribed a few hormone shots, then call it a night.
Nope. Here I stand under a full moon next to a raging bonfire dressed like a sacrificial offering. If I'm honest, I love the fact that this night’s got all the hallmarks of a pagan ritual if only because I can picture Jehovah’s Flock getting a glimpse of this and freaking the eff out.
