Page 56 of Enspelled

“I’m sixteen, Dad,” I remind him as he finishes off the beer he took off me. “I have plenty of time to learn everything I need to know.”

He drapes his arm over my shoulder and leads us toward the BBQ.

At sixteen, I’m already taller and bigger than he is, but his strength has never come from the size of his human shape. It’s his sharp mind, his determination, and his iron will that are the reasons he’s the leader, and no one else comes close to taking the position from him.

When he sets his mind to something, no one and nothing can turn him away.

That, and his wolf shape is a beast. Not even Amos Wolfe, alpha of the Wolfes, would provoke him into a fight.No sane person would. Not even the witches.

“Sixteen hasn’t stopped you from getting up to things you shouldn’t have at your age.” His eyes are knowing.

I shrug, looking away.“They’re just tourists. And none of them are underage.”

He growls. “Youare underage. So stop with the pretty tourists, Romeo.”

I shoot him a quick grin. “Sure I will.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You must think I was born yesterday.”

I nod, my expression sober. “You were. Yesterday… five hundred years ago, when a man had to get permission from a girl’s daddy before he could—” I duck his head slap by inches, laughing as he swats at me.

“Too slow, old man,” I laugh, right up until I trip over someone’s leg, and crash to the floor as the rest of the pack explodes into laughter.

But then a strange scent invades my nose. No, not strange. Unfamiliar. The scent belongs to a wolf, but it’s not any of my packmates.

My eyes snap open. As they do, pain explodes at the side of my head, and my world darkens.

17

BRIAR

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Time to wakey-wakey.”

Muttering beneath my breath, I do my best to ignore the male voice so I can go back to sleep.

But the hand that roughly shakes my shoulder is a little harder to ignore, which isn’t like Keane at all. Or maybe it is. I remember him shaking me awake back at his cabin, which led to a painful collision between the floor and my funny bone.

“Go away,” I grumble as I press my face against the back of the couch.

I have to go back to my dream of the big gray wolf with amber eyes. He was trying to tell me something. I know it. Something important.

Maybe that’s why I feel strange, and a little hollow. Or maybe I’m just hungry.

“If you’re not up in the next two seconds, witch, you won’t like what we do to you.”

I’m drifting back to sleep so I can finish this important dream I was having with a wolf that I’m almost positive is Keane’s dad.

Suddenly I’m wide awake, because the male voice isn’t Keane.

It belongs to a stranger, and there’s only one thing he could be for him to call me a witch with that level of disgust.

Shifter.

My eyes snap open, and I twist around on the couch. There, crouched in front of me with the coffee table shoved aside to make room for his burly size, is a dark-haired man I’ve never seen before.

Even if he hadn’t called me a witch, his powerful arms and the wildness in his silver eyes would’ve clued me in.

I don’t think.

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