Page 1 of Lost and Pound

Chapter One

Nico

I stood in wait before the wolves of my pack as my father shook hands with the Silvermoon alpha. Such a simple gesture for such a huge decision—for me, at least. To them, it was nothing more than the sale of goods.Property.

It’d been fifteen years since the forced trade of omegas was outlawed, but my father didn’t care. He was too old and stuck in his ways to change the process, and the council held him in too high of esteem to curb him. Honestly, I didn’t care, either. I’d be on a train out of town before midnight, the second they had their backs turned. Frankly, I thought they’d let me run, too.

If the way my intended, Branden, kept ogling one of his beta enforcers with sad, pining eyes was any indicator, he wanted me about as much as I wanted him. All I needed to do was skip town before they had us exchange bites and rut that night. No big deal.

Under the full moon, before my people, I was ordered to shift, to be gifted the first of my mating gifts—a collar. So, stripping bare and holding my chin aloft, I presented myself as the perfect omega, shifting into my sleek gray wolf. I preened and canted my head slightly, showing off the natural lines of my fur and perfect form. If I was anything, I was pedigree among omega stock. My father came from a long line of pack alphas, descended from the first clans, a true Wolfson, as our name declared. My omega pater came from an arctic wolf pack in Canada, but I’d never met him, as he’d disappeared when I was young, escaped back to his home pack.

My father wasn’t the greatest, but as far as pack alphas, he was fair—ish. I certainly held little stock in his leadership skills as Branden’s father, Horace Silvermoon, took the honors of presenting me with probably one of the most offensive gifts onecould give a shifter of any pedigree—that stupid thick-chained collar.

I darted my gaze to my father, who nodded once, his light hair silvery in the evening light. He could almost pass for graying. Though, I knew better. The hard lines of his face were earned, not given with time. For a shifter, he was young.

I sat and preened, lifting my head as Horace bent down, securing a chain collar around my neck, steely jewelry engraved with who knew what. The weight of it bore down and made my fur itch.

With another gentleman’s handshake, my father and Horace exchanged a grin and, were I in skin, I’d have turned beet red. A loudclickjostled my collar in time for me to glance around and look up at my intended. Branden stared at me with disdain, resigned sadness, blame. Whatever grudge he held was not my fault, but I couldn’t tell him at that moment, for he was in skin and I in fur.

With a tug of the leash, I followed, watching my father and fellow packmates leave, wary eyes casting concerned glances my way. Generally, nobody ever put a collar on a wolf, nor did they leash one. To do so was an affront, but rules often got forgotten when it involved something an alpha’s peen could play with. Even if I was a sentient, intelligent, living, breathing being—I was still someone’s dingaling warmer.

Fuuuuuck.

From the meeting spot, we didn’t run in the woods as we did most full moons. The Silvermoons packed up in their cars and trucks, tucking me neatly in the back of someone’s work van. The scent of mildew and cleaners assaulted my nostrils. Bouncing fat hoses surrounded me.Carpet cleaning…

“I really am sorry. I—” Branden stared me down as he climbed in with me, sitting amid the hoses.

I tried to shift, and a shock shot through me, the pain from which caused me to yelp.

“Yeah…” Branden offered a hand to pet me, but I stepped back, snarling.

How fucking dare…I’d never seen a collar that could stop shifting before. Heard of, sure, but experiencing it was a whole new level of evil. Their pack had a sigma wolf’s magic at hand, or they’d hired one.

I tried to shift again, my inner beast in panic as I scrambled and fell, tangling amid the hoses and biting at them in shock. Again, I tried and again I failed.

Again, and the lights danced behind my eyes.

“Hold still—” He reached for me as his beta boyfriend climbed through the back, arms loaded with a few bottles of water. Stumbling, he dropped them all over the floor before picking them up.

“Here, give this to him.” The beta studied the bottles for a moment before handing one to him and sitting one beside him. “Guess your dad wants him real hydrated for the all-night fuckathon he expects from you two.”

Still, Branden reached for me while glaring at his beta.

I snapped at Branden, his pale skin nearly glowing in the leaking moonlight from a window up front, cast in circles over him through a grate. His dark hair flopped over his face, obscuring his forehead with errant strands. Even damp, they hung stick straight—thin. Even his wolf had that trait—scrawny, color common.

I had a more cohesive gray coat with a lighter underbelly and facial frosting—a trait from my omega father, one that would be prized for the beautiful pups I could make. If his family’s wolves were any indication—he needed the genetic diversity.

I growled at him, each breath leaving me in a whimper as the heavy chain collar tightened.

I wanted up.

I wanted out.

Only darkness came.

I prayed to the goddess of three—the mourning sisters—of daybreak dusk and dark.

Make them pay.

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