Page 1 of Grace of a Wolf 1
Chapter one
Grace: Awakening to Pursuit
As a human, I should be miles away from any large shifter event. Especially the annual Mate Hunt.
A hunt for mates. Doesn't it sound barbaric?
It's as bad as it sounds.
Several packs in the area gather as their newly minted adult wolves shift. Females are let into the woods first and are given an hour's head start, just before sundown. Then it's time for the males, ostensibly thrown out to hunt down the scent of their fated (or chosen) mates.
It isn't an event for the faint of heart, and it's definitely no place for someone who can't shift. So why the fuck am I here, running my little human heart out, chased by what sounds like an entire pack of wolves?
Great question. I don't know, either.
Alpha warned me to stay home with all the windows and doors locked, saying you can never trust a hormonal wolf during the Hunt. And that's exactly what I did, because I've seen and heard of too many horror stories to want anything to do with a night like tonight.
But somehow, I opened my eyes to a canopy of trees over my head, half blocking out the light of the full moon. To near-freezing winds brushing against my half-naked skin. To the sound of howling, near and far.
And an unfamiliar, unsettling crunch to my left.
As soon as my brain function caught up to the situation, I got up and ran. Maybe not the smartest thing—I had no idea where I was running to—but every inch of my body wasscreamingdanger, and there was zero percent of me interested in learning the origins of the suspicious sound.
And now I'm here.
Surrounded by howls fueled by the thrill of the hunt.
Feet bleeding. Lungs freezing.
Fuck, fuck,fuck.
The distinct terror of being hunted has my blood cold and sluggish in my veins, even as my heart pounds erratically. Or maybe it's the fall chill. We're only a couple degrees above freezing tonight, and however I got here—my clothes were compromised in the process.
Bra and underwear. At least I have those.
No shoes, of course.
My skin's riddled with goosebumps and branches whip at my skin, leaving marks and scratches I'm sure I'll regret later.Unlike the pack I've been adopted into, I have no innate talent at maneuvering in the wild. My feet pound against leaves, probably leaving an easy trail to follow. But is standing around any better? Uh, probably not.
Then again, running just triggers their prey drive—
Fuck. I have no fucking clue, so I keep running.
My breath is ragged, choppy. Each gulp of air is like icicles stabbing into my lungs.
Alpha—the man who more or less adopted me six years ago—is going to be furious. But later fury doesn't help me in the moment. It's a lesson I learned a long time ago. Not everyone's willing to have a human around a wolf pack, and a few of them are willing to show me their displeasure in private.
This might be one of those times.
Supernotmy idea of fun.
My foot catches on something, sending pain straight through my ankle.
The world spins, and my face slams against the ground before I can break my fall. Dirt and blood fill my mouth; I'm surrounded in twigs and dead leaves.
I cough and sputter, trying to clear my airway. My arms shake as I push myself up, spitting out clumps of earth.
"Shit," I hiss, pain shooting through my ankle as I attempt to stand. It buckles, and I collapse again.
