Page 101 of The Wolf in My Tavern

“That is heartening news,” Saul says. “Now, it is my deepest regret to bring you the news that your father is dead.”

Drake sucks in a sharp breath. Gray barely seems to breathe.

“When?” Gray demands. “How?”

“Two months ago, the Canis pack, in collusion with the Doley pack, attacked two hunting parties. Our warriors were deployed. While the warriors were out, Canis attacked the pack. While many of our warriors, your father included, remained to defend, it was a slaughter. I was one of those deployed. We returned. We tried to reclaim the pack. And lost half our numbers in the attempt.”

Gray growls so low and menacing that all the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Then he lifts his head, and although he is still human, the howl that leaves his throat is that of a wolf.

His grief reaches into me and triggers reminders of my own. I cease to see him as a threat and instead recognize a man and shifter who knows loss.

I now also see myself as part of him and whatever has happened to him. Through Ada, our fates are entwined. While Gray himself no longer feels like a threat, there is assuredly danger for us, but more importantly, our mate.

“We have been in exile since,” Saul says solemnly. “We have contact with a few shifters in our former home willing to pass us information. They intercepted the note you sent via bird before Rufus found out of your return.”

“He leads the mutts, then?” Drake asks.

“Aye,” Saul says. “Killed his older brother last fall, took the position of pack leader, and has been on the warpath ever since. Several smaller packs had already fallen under his attacks—it was how they brought so many numbers. What is left of Ludstone is scattered. We live in small numbers among the villages, moving on frequently lest a Canis patrol come around. Those who were on packlands during the attack are either dead or forced to follow Rufus’s orders because he holds their mates and children hostage.”

He offers a list of names: those fallen, those in hiding, and those whose mates are being used as leverage. Finally, he looks to Gray in the manner of one seeking hope. “What are your orders? What would you have us do?”

“I will not fight against my own pack members,” Gray says. “If we are to have a chance, we will need to rescue those taken hostage.”

“Aye,” the shifter agrees. “But that won’t be easy. There are eyes everywhere. As soon as we reach pack lands, maybe even before, Rufus will learn of your coming. We are greatly outnumbered. The other packs are likewise reeling. We approached former allies seeking support, but none would, too concerned with protecting their own.”

“Well,” Drake says, “Lucky we’ve got some help on our hands.”

I feel the prickling sensation; my suspicions are realized when I turn to find Drake looking expectantly at me.

Gray’s face turns my way. Saul and Don do likewise.

“The fuck?! Why are you looking at me?” I say, feeling sweat break out across my brow. He thinks I have control over my beast, but I really do not. “I will fight for you. I would do whatever it takes to see these mates and their children freed. But I am new to the shifting business and newer yet to this pack war.”

“You will have to learn fast,” Gray says. “On both counts.”

“He is a shifter,” Don says, frowning as he gives me an up and down look. “And a big bastard. We could always use another fighter, but we are going to need more than one.”

“That is not the half of it,” Drake says, clapping me on the shoulder. “You are looking at the first shifter in a century with royal blood. Just wait until you see his beast. The Canis mutts will shit themselves when they catch a glimpse of him.”

The two men gasp then hasten to bear their throats to me in deference.

And just like that, their war is now my war.

Ada

The rowboat returns to the ship without Callum, Gray, or Drake. We are told they are waiting on the wharf for us.

I have not seen my dress since I was first brought onto the ship, and it is still missing. My boots, at least, have been returned to me. These are my favorite boots made for me by the local cobbler a few doors down from The Green Man.

The only other clothes I have belong to Gray and are big enough to bury me. So, to go with the boots, I am given pants and a billowing crimson shirt, which I am very taken with. They smell fresh and clean, thank goodness, or I would not be putting them on.

Lizbeth coos when she sees me in my new garb. “Oh, that is a fetching color on you,” she says. “You look like a pirate lass now.”

Arlo, who is standing at her side, rolls his eyes.

I have a small jacket to put over the top, which must have belonged to a boy. The captain assures me Gray has already compensated the lad for the donation.

I admit that I like these clothes. There’s a certain freedom in not wearing a long, heavy dress. Also, you can see my boots in this outfit since my pants are tucked into them at the knees.

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