Prologue
Gévaudan, France 1767
The stench of blood and entrails accosted the black she-wolf’s nose. At the edge of the wood, the severed head of an old shepherd lay near three slain goats. Still in the throes of blood lust, the alpha growled at her. Self-preservation forced her to approach slowly, her body crouched and tail tucked. “Bastien,’tis I, Nicole.”
He snarled. “What are you doing here, Warden?”
Nicole gazed at the gruesome scene of the shepherd’s remains. His hand gripped his staff, as if he had a fighting chance against a fierce werewolf. “He was the last wolf-segen. It is over.” As the warden in charge of chronicling all existing wolf-segens, she recorded the death of the last three. Only the first, a young woman, knew of her ability to charm animals and see a werewolf’s true self. The other two never realized their gift or perhaps kept it secret. Guilt on spilling blood saddened her, but they had no choice. The 1590 Edict of Segner commanded death to all wolf-segens. Once harmless enchanters who guided wolves away from sheep and villages, they realized they could command all animals to do their bidding. Worst of all, a wolf-segen could identify the wolf within their lycan kind. After cutting ties to packs, wolf-segens betrayed werewolves by identifying them. Trials of werewolves and witches spread like pestilence from village to village. Most of the accused were innocent, but in the melee, a few lycans died, murdered. Wolf-segens, in the end, were not spared of accusations of witchcraft. They too burned at the stake as witches. Those that survived the scourge were hunted by her kind.
His tongue lolled to the side. “I know.”
Bastien had been careless. Several witnesses saw his bull-sized, red-furred wolf form. He killed normal people who happened to cross his path. A mess. He earned the name, Beast of Gévaudan, endangering all werewolves. He’d risked his life to kill the last three wolf-segens. “Wolf hunters have surrounded the woods.”
He cocked his head. “I left my clothes in the village.”
“I hid the carriage near the trail leading to the trading post. I brought clothes. We are travelling merchants of fine pottery.”
“Then what?”
“We return to Mt. Blanc until the wolf hunting frenzy ends.”
“Won’t be long. Not far from here, I scented a few wolves with the foaming madness.”
She nodded. “Let’s hope they blame the mad wolves and stop searching for an oversized red wolf.”
“Are you sure there are no more wolf-segens in France?” asked Bastien.
“As far as I know, they were the last. However, the Edict of Segner will stand. Any wolf-segen born now or in the future will be killed without hesitation.”
Chapter 1
Steele entered his brother’s, King Conan’s, opulent office. He bowed. “My liege.”
Conan, seven years his senior and a head shorter than Steele, reigned over the American packs. Only the alpha council could overrule his decisions. Conan sniffed twice. “I’m happy you have not come to harm, brother.” He gestured. “Please, sit. I’ve made a decision.”
Steele lifted a brow. “Oh?”
“You will resign from Team Greywolf and take your place here at the castle as Prince Steele.”
“Why? I’m not in line to be king.” Conan had a son and daughter to rule upon his death.
“Agreed, but it’s unseemly that the king’s brother risks his life as a soldier for Team Greywolf.”
Conan wanted Steele to serve his castle instead of Team Greywolf, which he hoped to disband. As far as his brother was concerned, the team worked too closely with humans. Except for the minimum needed connections, the king desired to cut all ties with humans. Steele raised a brow. “Do you not think we have the responsibility to protect our society?”
“Yes, the team does well dealing with humans who want us dead. Yet, why must we help them with non-werewolf issues?”
“Whether you like it or not, corrupt humans are capable of destroying the planet. If the earth goes, so do lycans.” Steele recently returned from a successful mission to stop terrorists from kidnapping several important heads of state. The FBI received the credit, but it didn’t matter. Lycan kind preferred to remain in the shadows, helping for humanitarian reasons and only when completely necessary.
“I have no problem with you commanding a team, but not volunteering to work alone with U.S. military units. What would happen if you were wounded and turned wolf in front of them? They’d see us as a threat and, with the Keep’s help, annihilate us all.”
Steele snorted. “The Keep is even more secretive than we are. They hunt us without the help of any human governments.” Especially since they had a hand in all global governments.
“So why must you, prince of the realm, volunteer for dangerous missions?”
With the exception of Cricket, a runt beta who was practically human, Steele was one of the few alphas who could remain human for a week. “My unusual ability not to shift every few days makes me the ideal candidate for working with humans. And thus far, no one suspects I’m anything but an elite soldier.” With the exception of the enigmatic Mr. H.
“Nonetheless, it’s improper for a prince to do Rylee’s dirty work. Are you not a commander? Better to send others into the field.”
Aside from having the advantage of staying human for longer periods, Steele displayed a stronger than normal need to protect. Dr. Becker, who studied lycan genetics or luponomics, said Steele had a double dose of what the doctor called a shepherd gene. As a result, Steele refused to place his team in danger. He inherited his gene to protect others from his eccentric grandmother, Belle, who spent her life saving
humans after natural disasters. “After our father betrayed our kind, it’s the least I can do.”
Conan growled. “You will not speak of our oath breaking father.”
The shame of their father helping a notorious mob to rid his opponents forever stained their family name. “Yes, my liege.” Neither he nor Conan ever spoke of Maccon, his younger brother who suffered from the taint of Griswold of Bedburg. Werewolves who inherited the gene tended to become serial killers.
“I am ordering Rylee to release you from Team Greywolf. It’s about time you solidify the bond to your chosen mate.”
“What chosen mate?”
“Duke Milton’s daughter, Princess Kiara Melle.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Kiara, like her father and his brother, was an isolationist who wanted to cut all ties with human society. In their worldview, no humans joined packs. Lone wolves were forced to live within pack territories. And a strict adherence to status remained the norm. The pack termed their type anti-humanists. Lycan for racists.
“I’m not.”
The gorgeous raven-haired alpha could have any mate, but she wanted him. Kiara treated lower ranked lycans abysmally. “We tried a few years ago, remember? We had nothing in common.”
“Kiara will have no other. Politics aside, the two of you will make beautiful royal pups.”
“Not appealing after she had her omega females spayed.” He thought about how happy Slade was with Cricket, a runt. Kiara would have drowned Cricket before she underwent the change.
“Rylee has polluted your mind with her foolish notions about giving every omega beta status.”
“Kiara was also the only one in the council who refused to recognize Mia as Dominic’s legitimate mate.”
“If not for our loss of so many during the change, I too would have voted no against the Stallo woman.” He poured a drink. “At least Lev turned his human into a she-wolf.”
Lev’s mutant bite had caused Rachel’s change. “Naturally, I would never consider a human or an omega, but not one alpha she-wolf appeals to me. I would be just as happy with a beta.” Not to boss around, but one who enjoyed the simpler things in life. Fishing. The hunt. Movies from the 80s. No drama.
“With the exception of rebellious Slade, no royal prince has mated below alpha status, so you better remain single if that’s your attitude. Kiara has agreed and that’s final.”