Saviour of the Pack, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Heather G. Harris
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Cover design by Christian Bentulan
Contents
Dedication
Foreword
Content Warnings
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
Other Works by Heather
In remembrance of my darling dog, Oscar.
The best pup in the world.
Foreword
If you'd like to hear the latest gossip, bargains and new releases from Heather, then please join Heather's VIP newsletter.
You can sign up here, and as a welcome gift you get some free books.
Content Warnings
Please see the full content warnings on Heather's website if you are concerned about triggers.
All of Heather's books have occasional poor language and scenes of violence.
Please note that all of Heather's works are written in British English with British phrases, spellings and grammar being utilised throughout.
If you think you have found a typo, please do let Heather know here.
Chapter 1
I winced as Tristan ripped out a chunk of Greg’s fur, exposing red-raw flesh underneath. Theirs was the final fight of our pack tourney, the battle for number two, beta to my alpha. I was supposed to be impartial but fuck that; I was inches away from standing up and cheering for Greg. It’s not like everyone didn’t already know that he was my lover.
Stop toying with him and finish it! growled Esme.
I don’t think he’s messing about, I disagreed.
Esme snorted. Greg and his wolf could destroy Tristan in seconds. They choose not to. They give him hope, so the win will be more crushing.
You sound like you approve.
It is a different way to hunt prey. It is not as good as my way.
What is your way?
Instant death, she said decisively.
Sure but Tristan is a member of our pack. We don’t want to kill our pack. It was bad that I sometimes felt I had to spell this out to my wolfish counterpart.
Tristan does not accept us as alpha, she sniffed. He knelt, but he does not accept us. Not truly. Better a dead dissenter than a live one.
It’s frowned on to kill people just because they don’t like you.
You humans frown too much. Who cares what your face does?
Not for the first time, I was speechless. I’m one of a kind, a werewolf who can pipe. Like the Pied Piper, I can talk to animals – all animals, not just rats. My magic means that I can actually speak to my resident wolf. Most of the time that’s a blessing, but other days the chasm between us is so wide that no bridge could cross it. She’s my sister from another mister – a wolf mister – but she is a sister, nonetheless. And, like all siblings, sometimes we squabble but the love is always there.
My breath caught as Tristan’s claw snagged Greg’s haunches. Greg’s wolf let out an ominous growl – not a yip of pain but a deep growl. The hammer was about to fall. His eyes flashed gold for a second before returning to their usual shade of blue, then he swung into action.
Now I could see that Esme was right. As Greg pushed into the next gear, Tristan didn’t stand a chance. My beta bared his teeth and flashed his deadly fangs, but that was all the warning Tristan got before Greg slammed forcefully into him and sent him skidding across the dewy grass.
My heart was hammering as I watched. The potential for deadly violence was hanging in the air; if Greg lost control of his wolf now, he would rip out Tristan’s throat.
As Greg prowled forward, the tension in the field was high. All the spectators seemed to be holding their breath. Tristan got to his feet, ready to go again.
Fool. He should have stayed down, Esme murmured.
I didn’t disagree.
At the last moment, Greg put on a burst of speed. Tristan did the same and they collided in a clash of claws and fur. ‘Come on Greg,’ I whispered.
I needn’t have worried. In a blur, Greg was gripping Tristan by his throat. Tristan froze – we all did. One wrong move by him, or a tiny slip of Greg’s control, and Tristan’s lifeblood was going to spill all over the ground.
Then Tristan carefully tucked his tail between his legs and let out the softest whine. He concedes! I said jubilantly to Esme.
But will Greg accept it? she asked softly, tension radiating through our bond.
There was a beat that carried on too long before Greg released Tristan’s neck. The pack erupted into cheers, and I sank back into my deckchair. That had been so close; Greg had been inches away from finishing Tristan, and Tristan knew it. The question was, would that knowledge make him more tractable, or less?
Tristan gave a few licks to his wounds before crouching and starting the shift back to human. He was a fast shifter relatively speaking, and it took him only about three minutes, but Greg was done in barely a minute. I could have sworn his shift was getting faster, though I didn’t know if that were possible.
He stood, naked and unabashed, as a murmur ran through the crowd. His wounds had healed completely during the shift, and there wasn’t a mark to be seen. Even I didn’t have that kind of recovery. Werewolves heal fast, but that was something else.
Greg pulled on some tracksuit trousers, black of course, and sauntered over. His body was clean; he wasn’t even sweating. I smiled at him, ‘Good work, second.’
He nodded back, all business. ‘It is my pleasure to continue to serve you, Alpha.’ The phrase brought all kinds of fun things to mind and I fought a blush. The twitch of his lips suggested I wasn’t as good at hiding my thoughts as I’d like.
I stood up and turned to face the assembled pack. ‘With the placement of Greg Manners as my second, I now declare the pack tourney complete! Let’s celebrate!’ A cheer arose. The indomitable Mrs Dawes and her helpers had already started bringing out trays of food for the hungry contestants.
The tourney had started in the dead of night, lit by nothing more than the moon and a few fiery torches. The pack had some sixty-five members, with a few pups that were still too young to call their wolves, and the tourney began with the lowest-ranked. They fought one on one, but at the start of the night we’d had two battles running concurrently, then the winners fought each other. Next there was another bout of four, with the winner of that fighting the last winner.
The early rounds were almost ceremonial in nature. When you were ranked so low in the pack, it didn’t really matter if you were sixty-first or sixty-second; there was little reason to let the fur fly and the blood run. Those bouts lasted no more than a token sixty seconds and the vibe was friendly.
Things shifted as the tourney entered the midway point. The atmosphere turned from jovial to tense and anticipatory. The fights became longer and bloodier, and I was glad I didn’t have to participate. As alpha, the only time I have to fight is if I’m challenged for leadership; until then, I’m sitting pretty.
There were more than a few surprises in the tourney. The biggest one for me was mild-mannered Mrs Dawes shooting up from forty-one to twenty-two. Seren and Marissa swapped places, moving Seren up to sixth. She had absolutely trounced Marissa, and it still took some adjustment for me to reconcile the moody Goth with the vicious wolf I’d seen today.
Afterwards, neither woman had looked at the other, and tension hummed between them. The fight had resolved nothing. There was definitely some personal beef going on between them that I wasn’t privy to. I hated not knowing every scrap of gossip, but I’d find out the truth eventually. I was too nosy not to.
Archie had climbed from twelfth to fifth, a huge achievement for the nineteen year old. Our resident gardener, David, had moved up from eleventh to eighth. I saw a few of the single females eying him with interest, including Seren, who’d broken his heart once before. I wasn’t sure he’d trust her with it a second time.
I wondered if Seren and Marissa were fighting over David, but one glance at Marissa shot down that theory; she was looking at David like he’d peed in her favourite shoes. That was interesting in itself because Marissa was a smiling assassin. She wore a friendly smile like a mask to keep all and sundry at bay. I thought she was lonely, and I made a note to keep a closer eye on her. Alone isn’t a nice place to be, unless it’s with a good book and a glass of wine.
Noel, who’d last competed in a pack tourney when he was high on the drug Boost, had sunk back down the pack ranks to thirteenth. He was still in the pack’s battle core – but only just. Brian has also suffered a fall from grace, from eighth to twelfth. He looked decidedly pissed off about it.
The unknowns in all this were Finle
Having an unknown in our top thirteen didn’t sit well with me, but those were the breaks. I hoped we’d get to know each other quickly. I was dying to ask which packs they’d come from, but apparently that was rude with a capital R. Once wolves go lone, their names are struck from their original pack’s roster. That seemed a little harsh to me.
Finley and Daniella had both asked to live in the mansion and I’d agreed, allocating them rooms on the ground floor near Archie and Elena. Finley was a chef and Daniella was a nurse, so they both had the capacity to help the pack. So far Finley had kept himself to himself, whereas Daniella seemed a mite friendlier. They eyed each other warily; though they professed not to know each other well, they’d frequented the same circles.
Elena had already adopted them both, whether they wanted her to or not. She was still working through the grief of losing her brother, and I knew she blamed a lot of his loss on him going lone.
Thea Frost was another issue entirely. She was still a guest in the mansion, but we hadn’t formally accepted her into our ranks. She was a werewolf that couldn’t shift and she’d be a burden on any pack that accepted her. Worse still, she was Beckett Frost’s sister and Beckett was alpha-asshole supreme. He wasn’t going to let her go easily.
I’d hired our local witch, Amber DeLea, to see if she could concoct a potion to help Thea with her shifting issues, but so far nothing had worked. We had one more potion to try before I’d have no choice but to play my hand.
Thea had watched the pack proceedings glumly. I’d expected her to be pleased when Archie moved up the ranks, but if anything she’d seemed more depressed. Their courtship appeared to have cooled a little since Archie had learned of her shifting problem. He’d admitted to me that he wanted an equal in the relationship – and that included her wolf. If she couldn’t run and hunt with him, so many of the joys of pairing with a fellow wolf would be denied to him. I’d noticed him eyeing Daniella – and I’d noticed the despondent Thea noticing, too.
The celebratory feast was going full swing. We were drinking breakfast mimosas and the music was blaring out. The sun was up, and it was warm enough to brush away the April chill. Frankly, I felt on top of the world. Which was how I knew it would all come crashing down on me at any moment.
Chapter 2
Greg and I had gone on a few cloak-and-dagger dates before some choice words from Archie had made it clear that we weren’t fooling anyone; the whole pack knew we were an item. It had taken a while for Greg to feel comfortable with public displays of affection, and even now the most he would go to was sitting a little too close to me. Sometimes he’d tolerate a hand on his thigh, but he’d explained that handholding was a no-no because that might delay him reaching for a weapon in an emergency. Let me tell you, dating an ex-soldier/current soldier comes with baggage.
He was totally worth it, though. Behind closed doors he was more than happy to display his affection, and I was absolutely on board with that. Besides, I’m the alpha, the boss, the big cheese, and keeping things clean helped retain my authority – or so Greg insisted. It was this same authority that had me reluctantly retiring from the pack party early. I wanted more mimosas; I wanted to sing to the music and dance on the tables like Seren was doing, albeit I wouldn’t be casting sultry looks at David as I did so.
I gave Greg’s thigh one last squeeze because I could, then left them to it, Greg included. He deserved to let his hair down, too.
As I mooched back to the mansion, I cast out my magic to find Ares. The unicorn was close, but he was keeping to the shadows of the trees. The pack tourney had brought back his memories of the black tourneys in which he’d been an unwilling combatant. I sent him soothing thoughts and a hint of apology because I should have thought to warn him.
Across the distance between us, I felt him shake his head and give a defiant whinny. He was fine and I was to stop being a worrywart. I got a sense of movement and protection; he was going to patrol our borders whilst the pack was occupied. I sent him my appreciation and gently disengaged our minds.
I’d really been stretching my piping skills. Once, I’d needed to touch my subject to communicate, then I’d needed at least to make eye contact and hum a little song. Now, if I knew the mind I was seeking, I could do it without seeing them. I rarely did that because it used a huge amount of magical energy, but I’d just been for a recharge so I should be good for a week if I was cautious with my piping skills. Shifting to four hardly seemed to drain me at all; it was piping that led to that itching feeling, like an army of ants was crawling underneath my skin. Ugh.
Rosie’s café is the local portal, but having discovered that Maxwell, the hall’s guardian, was related to me, I’d been driving an extra forty minutes to the next portal. I’d received a few missed calls from Maxwell – he knew something was up, but he didn’t know what. Soon, I’d get the balls to tell him. Soon, but not yet. I was still doing my best ostrich impression, burying my head in the sand and singing la-la-la nice and loud.
When I slunk into my office my new fourth, Liam, was sitting at the security console. He had an impressive bruise blooming over his eye from his tussle with Tristan. By tomorrow it would be gone. Werewolf healing is so much better than a regular human’s.
‘Hey,’ I greeted him. ‘Did you see the fight between Greg and Tristan?’
‘On the screen,’ he confirmed. ‘It looked vicious, but Greg had it under control.’ There was a note of jealousy in his voice. Although Tristan hadn’t made Greg so much as sweat, he’d trounced Liam. Liam was young, and his ego was a little bruised.
Liam was too gentle. He didn’t want to hurt Tristan, but Tristan was quite happy to hurt him.
‘You only lost to Tristan because you didn’t want to hurt him.’ I voiced Esme’s view aloud.
Liam grimaced. ‘I used to admire him. We hung out with Mark a lot in the old days, and I thought we were friends.’ He hesitated and stopped himself from saying more. He didn’t need to; Tristan hated me, and Liam helped me. I was the beef in their friendship burger.
I didn’t apologise for it, but I did change the subject. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?’
‘Someone has to watch things. I promised Greg I’d do it so he can relax for once,’ Liam said gruffly.
‘That’s good of you, Liam.’
‘It’s no problem, Alpha.’
I sighed internally. I liked Liam, I really did, but I had no idea what he thought of me. He’d definitely come to accept me as his alpha, and he was utterly dependable, but we were a long way from being friends. He held my title between us like a shield. I’m a social butterfly: I love people, and I love being loved. Accepting lukewarm companionship is difficult.
‘I can watch things for a bit if you want some down time,’ I suggested.
He looked at me with barely concealed horror. ‘No, thank you, Alpha. It’s fine.’
I sat down at my desk. No problem – I had a million things to do. I pulled up my spreadsheet to see what my next planned action was and cross-referenced it with what would save us the most money. We might be a rich pack, but that was no reason to throw money away.
I flicked to tab B on the sheet and saw that my next job was changing the pack’s electricity provider. We were being rinsed. The fun never ends.
I got off the phone to a green-energy provider. Their energy wasn’t the cheapest, but it was green and that was important. I’d take the price trade-off if I knew we were being environmentally friendly, making the world a better place one canvas bag at a time. I went back to my spreadsheet and made some handy notes on tab B.
As always when I caught a few minutes to spare, I pulled up my ‘witchy suspects’ spreadsheet. It was achingly bare. One of the pages had details of local hair and nail salons, I’d already called most of them, but there were a few outliers left.
