Darkest Wolf
Chapter One
The smells of human overindulgence wafted through his nose, making him want to turn on his heel and go out the way he’d gone in.
Rex Kane observed the scene before him with a strange amount of detachment, considering he was currently seeing his mate for the very first time. Two women—no, witches, he corrected—lay in strangely positioned forms frozen on the floor. Twins, he would guess them to be. Possibly even identical. He sniffed the air. Yep, they had matching scents. They were the very rare, but absolutely possible oddity, of identical twins. He would never be able to tell them apart, not by smell anyway.
His gaze moved slowly over the diner’s kitchen. At the moment, the twin witches offered no threat to him. They’d been frozen. He had no idea how long they’d stay immobile and, truth was, he didn’t particularly care. Witches didn’t frighten him. They annoyed the piss out of him—there was a difference.
The unconscious man, who, unless his nose was completely off, would wake up again shortly, also didn’t bother him. No, the elderly gentleman seemed to be temporarily stunned. He was also human. Not a threat.
But Rex did feel nervous and, considering how rarely anxiety bothered him, he was willing to acknowledge the sensation for a few brief seconds before he would deny it had ever happened completely. He raised an eyebrow and forced his attention to stay on the source of his temporary anxiety: his mate.
You’re sure she’s mine? He had to ask his wolf again. Maybe there’d been some kind of mistake. The universe couldn’t be this cruel to him.
Ours. His wolf bristled at the question. His canine half had never liked being questioned over anything.
She’s not even a wolf. Rex crossed his hands over his chest. She’s not even latent.
She possesses no wolf blood whatsoever. Wouldn’t you like to make a different choice for us?
Fate has chosen and she is perfect. In another second his inner-canine might start growling at him. Rex couldn’t remember the last time he and his other half had been so at odds with one another. It had been decades at least.
He sighed. She’s a witch.
And therein lay the problem. Rex hated witches. As far as he was concerned, witches were the bane of humanity. All witches should be put to death before they were allowed to cause any more trouble. In fact, he’d been sent out by his brother to find a witch and bring her back—willing or not—to Westervelt in order to help them with a problem they faced because of other witches.
Hell, this sucks.
His wolf made a sound somewhere between a harrumph and a sigh, which seemed a little odd for a canine. Your opinion is noted.
“Witch.” Rex spoke to the woman who would be with him for eternity. “What exactly is going on in this room?”
The little woman glared at him. Her hair fell somewhere between the shades of brown and blonde, hanging low past her shoulders. He had no idea what to call the unusual color but he felt certain she would know how she wanted it referred. Women were particular when it came to their own presentation. She’d either think of herself as being blonde or brunette, and he better not make the mistake of calling it something else or she might turn him into a frog.
Her blue eyes flared with anger and another emotion he didn’t know how to define.
She stood up, and even then she barely reached his midsection. His mate was also small.
Wonderful. She’s also breakable. How fantastic.
Sarcasm is beneath you, Randolph. Only his wolf ever used his full name. He hated it.
“Wolf,” she snapped back at him. “What does it look like? They’re frozen, he’s out cold, and I’m going to be dead, dead, dead before the day is over.”
“No you will not.” He scoffed at the idea. No one would harm her. Whatever this—
situation—entailed, he would handle it like he did everything else: with just enough violence to ensure it never happened again.
“Oh yes? You’re some kind of prophet? You can read the future?” She fisted her hands, and he had to suppress the smile threatening to take charge of his face. Whoever this witch turned out to be, she had a spine of steel. Confidence seemed incredibly important as a quality for his mate. Things tended to go to hell quickly for his pack.
“Who are you anyway, and what are you doing here? I’ve had enough wolves today to last me a lifetime.”
“Oh yes? Been consorting with a lot of wolves lately?” He sniffed the air. Yes, the witch was correct. There had been wolves here. A female, if he wasn’t mistaken. He didn’t know her but she had a familiar scent to her like a distant memory he couldn’t make surface. The other wolf—male—he knew, and he almost gasped at the familiarity.
The smells of human overindulgence wafted through his nose, making him want to turn on his heel and go out the way he’d gone in.
Rex Kane observed the scene before him with a strange amount of detachment, considering he was currently seeing his mate for the very first time. Two women—no, witches, he corrected—lay in strangely positioned forms frozen on the floor. Twins, he would guess them to be. Possibly even identical. He sniffed the air. Yep, they had matching scents. They were the very rare, but absolutely possible oddity, of identical twins. He would never be able to tell them apart, not by smell anyway.
His gaze moved slowly over the diner’s kitchen. At the moment, the twin witches offered no threat to him. They’d been frozen. He had no idea how long they’d stay immobile and, truth was, he didn’t particularly care. Witches didn’t frighten him. They annoyed the piss out of him—there was a difference.
The unconscious man, who, unless his nose was completely off, would wake up again shortly, also didn’t bother him. No, the elderly gentleman seemed to be temporarily stunned. He was also human. Not a threat.
But Rex did feel nervous and, considering how rarely anxiety bothered him, he was willing to acknowledge the sensation for a few brief seconds before he would deny it had ever happened completely. He raised an eyebrow and forced his attention to stay on the source of his temporary anxiety: his mate.
You’re sure she’s mine? He had to ask his wolf again. Maybe there’d been some kind of mistake. The universe couldn’t be this cruel to him.
Ours. His wolf bristled at the question. His canine half had never liked being questioned over anything.
She’s not even a wolf. Rex crossed his hands over his chest. She’s not even latent.
She possesses no wolf blood whatsoever. Wouldn’t you like to make a different choice for us?
Fate has chosen and she is perfect. In another second his inner-canine might start growling at him. Rex couldn’t remember the last time he and his other half had been so at odds with one another. It had been decades at least.
He sighed. She’s a witch.
And therein lay the problem. Rex hated witches. As far as he was concerned, witches were the bane of humanity. All witches should be put to death before they were allowed to cause any more trouble. In fact, he’d been sent out by his brother to find a witch and bring her back—willing or not—to Westervelt in order to help them with a problem they faced because of other witches.
Hell, this sucks.
His wolf made a sound somewhere between a harrumph and a sigh, which seemed a little odd for a canine. Your opinion is noted.
“Witch.” Rex spoke to the woman who would be with him for eternity. “What exactly is going on in this room?”
The little woman glared at him. Her hair fell somewhere between the shades of brown and blonde, hanging low past her shoulders. He had no idea what to call the unusual color but he felt certain she would know how she wanted it referred. Women were particular when it came to their own presentation. She’d either think of herself as being blonde or brunette, and he better not make the mistake of calling it something else or she might turn him into a frog.
Her blue eyes flared with anger and another emotion he didn’t know how to define.
She stood up, and even then she barely reached his midsection. His mate was also small.
Wonderful. She’s also breakable. How fantastic.
Sarcasm is beneath you, Randolph. Only his wolf ever used his full name. He hated it.
“Wolf,” she snapped back at him. “What does it look like? They’re frozen, he’s out cold, and I’m going to be dead, dead, dead before the day is over.”
“No you will not.” He scoffed at the idea. No one would harm her. Whatever this—
situation—entailed, he would handle it like he did everything else: with just enough violence to ensure it never happened again.
“Oh yes? You’re some kind of prophet? You can read the future?” She fisted her hands, and he had to suppress the smile threatening to take charge of his face. Whoever this witch turned out to be, she had a spine of steel. Confidence seemed incredibly important as a quality for his mate. Things tended to go to hell quickly for his pack.
“Who are you anyway, and what are you doing here? I’ve had enough wolves today to last me a lifetime.”
“Oh yes? Been consorting with a lot of wolves lately?” He sniffed the air. Yes, the witch was correct. There had been wolves here. A female, if he wasn’t mistaken. He didn’t know her but she had a familiar scent to her like a distant memory he couldn’t make surface. The other wolf—male—he knew, and he almost gasped at the familiarity.