Page 17 of Reaper's Pack

If he didn’t tell me no in the next ten seconds, I was doing this.

I mean, he had ordered us to humor the reaper, so neither of them could fault me.

And if Gunnar had something to say, let him. All this silent judgmental staring was so unlike him it was starting to freak me out.

I’d learned that today—freak me out. Thank you, human television program, for expanding my vocabulary already.

A slight, painfully subtle thrust of Knox’s chin toward the forest was the permission I needed. Giddiness exploded in my chest, and I stripped down hurriedly, not wanting to ruin the clothes I’d found this morning in a neatly folded pile at the end of my bed—my own, personal, just for me bed. The garments were new and clean and soft, and smelled faintly like Hazel, and I just…

How could they not see this was paradise?

Seriously.

I dropped from two feet to four paws in a flash, my senses even more heightened in my hound form. A soft gasp escaped from Hazel, and I briefly zeroed in on her flushed cheeks, the graceful bob of her throat when she swallowed. Her scent threatened to take me, as powerful as the current that we three felt before a shift, but I forced myself away, refocused on the task at hand.

Somewhere in that forest was my prize. Today, it was just an orb, a snippet of magic conjured by Hazel—there were no stakes. But as I charged toward the trees, I imagined it was a wayward soul, a human spirit lost and frightened, confused to find themselves dead and alone in a world that looked just like their own, but also somehow completely different. That was the proper mindset, right?

Fear and I were old friends. It had been an unwelcome bedfellow, a constant in my life from the day I opened my eyes. Deceased humans likely felt fear when they woke up in the celestial plane, and that would drive me.

It should drive the others too, but time would give them their motivation. Nothing I said or did now would make a difference.

The grass underfoot, so lush and full and green, grew sparse as I crossed the tree line. Unfettered sunshine vanished, cutting through the canopy in scattered golden beams. The forest was thick but maneuverable, the earth beneath my paws unlike anything I had experienced before. Rocks and mud and roots touched me, welcomed me, threatened to trip me up. Birds scattered before I reached them, on a whole different plane from me yet sensing my presence anyway. We four were invisible to the mortal realm now, but the creatures of these woods seemed somehow aware that they were not alone.

I paused briefly, heart beating slow and steady, and nosed at the air. That smell couldn’t evade me, even as it zigzagged around trees and punched through branches. It called to me somewhere to the left, and left I went, tuning in to the sharp buzz moments later. The landscape would take some getting used to, but that was part of the challenge, surely. A challenge I faced head-on, and within minutes, after only a few twists and turns and one backtrack, I found it.

The wayward soul.

Hovering between two saplings, shimmering, trembling.

Mine.

Once I had it in my sights, there was no shaking me. I chased that damn orb through the forest, completely in tune with it—eventually outsmarting it, cutting it off at the pass, flying between a cluster of non-cedars and tackling it to the ground.

Much to my surprise, it was hard. Not just a glowing ball of light, but a physical being too. I had never touched a soul before; this was a surprise. But I swallowed my shock, up on all fours, nudging the orb in the direction I wanted.

Which was…

Damn it. Everything looked the same in here.

Until I found her, smelled those ripe dates, sensed her warmth, and then finding my way back home was a breeze. The orb tried to lose me a few times along the way, but I guided it with a snap of my teeth. While it had no ankles for me to nip at, I improvised, and soon enough we burst out of the trees and into the open field again, where I was met by a beaming Hazel. She whooped and clapped her hands together, radiating delight in a way that made my chest rather tight, my heart unnervingly full.

“Declan, that was amazing!” she praised as the orb drifted back to her palms. “You did so good!”

No one had ever told me that—except for Knox and Gunnar. Outside of my ragtag pack, no trainer or breeder or hound had ever complimented me. I shifted back, my furless flesh coated in sweat, the heat of the shift rolling off me, and then speared a hand through my hair with a bashful smile.

“It was easy,” I told her, unsure of what else to say, how to respond to such blatant praise. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I had a response in me for that sort of thing, so I took a note from Gunnar and deflected instead. “Let’s do it again.”

Hazel and I looked to Gunnar and Knox in tandem, hers a cautious inquiry, mine a pleading stare that resonated through our bond. I wanted this for them—to experience the hunt, to relish a victory, to hear her praise.

To feel it in their bones as I did.

Much to my surprise, Knox broke first. He peeled off his shirt, then jerked down his still much too small trousers, and Gunnar followed suit. They shifted without acknowledging Hazel, but each greeted me with a friendly mouthing, their teeth brushing over my hands, their tails slowly flicking side to side.

I sat at the bottom of our trio; I could expect no more than teeth and growls and a dismissive greeting, but they always gave me so much more than that. Shifted back into my hound form, their affection thrummed openly between us, and I nipped at Gunnar’s legs with an eager yip, then nuzzled beneath Knox’s strong jaw with my ears down and my tail whipping back and forth. My alpha responded with a forceful push toward the forest, his head held high, his cropped ears up and alert.

Hazel hurled the orb underhanded this time, and it looped up, then zipped out like an arrow, straight and true, blitzing across the forest before disappearing within it.

We were off in an instant, Knox leading the way, Gunnar and I fanned out behind him, paws thundering, dirt flying, birds scattering.

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