Page 1 of Cats and Dogs

Chapter 1

Two Worlds

"Hunter! Hunter, where are you?" The tall, willowy teenager clad in black gear called him from the doorstep of the largest wooden house in the entire territory; the Alpha's home.

The little wolfling was practically trembling in excitement, but he remained where he was, hidden and completely still.

"Come on, I don't have time to play now. And you know I'll get in trouble if you're not here when Dad comes back."

She wasn't lying. Their father had ordered Gwen to watch him, and no one disobeyed the Alpha of the Vergas Pack, not even his only daughter. She'd be lucky if she got away with a slap. But Hunter remained where he was; he knew their father wasn't back yet. He would have smelled him if he had been.

Wolves were generally gifted trackers compared to other shifters out there, but from the day he'd first shifted two years ago, it had been obvious to everyone that Hunter was something else. Something special.

He'd been ten at the time, and he'd distinguished himself by being the first to scent an intruder in their territory, ahead of everyone else, even the grownups. Even his father.

At twelve, now he was the best tracker in the entire pack, to the dismay of his brother, Jason. Even his father seemed to resent him for it, somehow. Gwen was the only one who didn't seem to mind.

Hunter would never risk her suffering their father's wrath. As soon as Hunter caught a whiff of Arthur Force, he'd run to his bedroom and pretend to practice his left hook on his punching bag, like he was supposed to.

Gwen sighed on the terrace and stepped in the garden.

"Alright. I'll play. But don't you forget the rules. If I can catch you in less than five minutes, you do my chores for the rest of the day."

His tail silently started to sway back and forth. Gwen was the only one who ever played with him. The other kids in the pack couldn't; they were expected to show deference to him, not see him as a playmate. Jason was busy with his enforcer training; after pulling long hours, he got home and collapsed until it was time to return to his duties. But, although Gwen was just as busy with her books on magic and healing, she always gave in.

Hunter watched her morph into a beautiful white wolf in awe; it never got old. She was the only white wolf he'd ever seen - perhaps the only one in existence at all. Red and white wolves were so very rare, although no one knew why.

Hunter was her opposite: completely black, while his brother and father were both gray.

The wolf started to sniff, trying to catch him. She wouldn't this time, he was pretty certain of it. Just like his strength was his sense of smell, Gwen's was her hearing, and he wasn't making a noise. He'd rolled in fox shit and he was hiding under the generator, which was rumbling low. It was totally going to mess up her senses.

He was safe...

The white wolf paced in a circle, slowly, and then suddenly started running at full speed, heading right toward him.

Shit.

Hunter crawled out from under the generator and dashed away. But, for all his skills, he was a teenager who'd just shifted two years ago, while his nineteen-year-old sister had been one with her beast for ten years. He knew he was screwed; she always won races. It didn't mean he wasn't gonna play. He ran as fast as his limbs could carry him, tongue hanging, tail batting the air, until a heavy weight pinned him down to the ground. The white fur gave way to naked skin, and, laughing her ass off, Gwen said, "Got you! Guess who's doing laundry?"

It didn't matter that he'd lost. There was always tomorrow, and the day after that. Gwen would always be there to catch him.

Until the day she wasn't.

"Bow to me."

Christine lifted an unimpressed brow, staring up at Donna, who was grimacing, hands crossed on her chest. The girl looked like she was chewing on a porcupine.

"You're just a submissive; you should bow to me and beg me for protection."

She chuckled. "Yeah, right."

Once upon a time, what felt like a lifetime ago, Donna had been her friend. So had most of the kids who stood behind her now, supporting her as she attempted to bully Christine.

Christine wasn't the only submissive kid in the royal pride, not by a long shot. But she was the one everyone picked on. Sometimes she wondered why. Other times, she remembered that it didn't matter in the end. Her daddy said dominant or submissive were just words, words that meant nothing at all unless you let them.

She proved that right again, when Donna hissed and stepped forward, her eyes narrowed into slits. Christine punched her in the face as soon as she entered her personal space.

She was a submissive, not a doormat, dammit.

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