Page 16 of Wanted By the Wolves

At the same time, the longer-haired wolf joins us from the hallway. “Well damn.” He shakes his head in bewilderment, eyes on the big alpha before he narrows them on me. “How about we get some food and water in your system, wild child? Maybe then you won’t feel so homicidal.” He claps his hands. “Who wants breakfast?”

The raven-haired alpha is the smallest of the three—and the prettiest. He’s dangerous, heart-throb handsome with a strong nose and longer hair that curls around the tops of his shoulders. He’s also covered in rune tattoos that start at his knuckles and peek out of the neck of his T-shirt.

He breezes by me, and his earthy, herbal scent smells like my grandmother’s garden. It immediately puts my wolf at ease. That quickly, she’s decided he’s trustworthy, at least for now. She thinks the promise of food is too good to pass up. Trotting after him, she follows into an open kitchen.

I try to take back my skin, needing more answers, but she fights me.

Internally, I groan because, honestly, breakfast sounds so much better than going back on the run, even if that would be the smart thing.

The kitchen becomes a whirlwind of activity as the other two wolves join the first at the stove.

Briggs, the one with the bite marks, sets down a huge bowl of water in front of me. “There you go, pretty wolf.”

He’s close enough for me to get his scent. It’s warm and spicy, with sandalwood, pink pepper, and fragrant dark florals like orchids. My wolf nudges closer, and he puts out his hand, letting her sniff his wrist. She takes a satisfying lick that makeshim chuckle before she dives on the water, lapping it up until the bowl is dry.

When she’s done, she eyes the three with curiosity. With all of them working together, their scents create an atmosphere of relaxation that makes her sleepy. I don't know if they’re a pack, but they seem to already know what to do. One is mixing, the other is chopping, and the third is doing something on the stove.

My wolf watches as they chat quietly, but eventually the urge to join them is overwhelming. She wants to be closer to them and the scents of food. She weaves between their legs, plopping right down on the rug at the stove.

She’s seriously lost her damn mind.

Every once in a while, Dex holds out a hand to feed my wolf bites of deer sausage from the pan. It’s seriously divine. I haven’t eaten anything so human in a long time.

The stove's heat feels nice, and she keeps one eye open while lazily napping and being hand-fed like a spoiled pup.

This whole thing is so bizarre.

When they bring the dishes to a long wooden pack-style table, she follows but still won't let me shift. I try yanking on the thread of control, but my wolf is too strong. She’s spent the last decade in control most of the time, and she doesn’t seem to want to relinquish it now.

Dex turns back to me, running a big hand over my ears and scratching between them. It feels so good she lets out a little yip of pleasure, tail wagging.

It’s official. My wolf has lost it.The years in solitude in the forest, the fear of being discovered, hiding from the ferals, and my time with the king in his pit… all of it has made me damn near feral. Except instead of trying to protect myself after waking up to total strangers, I’m over here playing Fido the family pet.

For the record, his head scratches feel really, really good.

"It's okay. You can stay a wolf as long as you need. When you're ready, we can talk,” Dex says.

That voice of his is criminal, the way it hits deep inside, sending bursts of pleasure and relaxation through my system. He rubs his thumb along my wolf’s ear once more before getting up and going back into the kitchen.

Dex returns a moment later with a bowl filled with a breakfast scramble. It’s got eggs and meat, but it’s the cheese that makes her salivate. Apparently, all it takes for my wolf to roll over and show her belly is a good meal.

My wolf has zero shame, scarfing it down and looking at him for more.

The huge alpha smiles. It transforms his face, softening his features. Even in my wolf form, it's blinding.

"More, huh?" He chuckles as he scratches her head, the sound making her tail wag again. She nips at his pant leg in impatience, and he laughs. "All right. Give me a minute.”

It takes another three bowls before she’s satisfied.

Even though my wolf is sleepy and I'm nicely full for what feels like the first time since I left my grandmother's, I don't quite trust it. I need time to process what all this means.

Why am I so drawn to them? Who are these alphas who seem so different from the men in the tents?

They remind me of the wolves from before the world went feral. I don’t understand it, but something about them makes me feel almost safe. That’s a dangerous delusion to have even if I wish it were true. I’m so fucking tired of being alone, but I don’t know if I can risk the alternative.

Except if what they said is true—and it feels true—they helped me through my heat safely. That must count for something. Most wolves aren’t so honorable.

My wolf shrugs off my concerns, licking Dex's hand before trotting back down the hall for a nap. Her final thought before she gives in to sleepiness is that she’s home.

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