Page 23 of The Sacred Wolf

“Ah, yeah,” he said, picking up his jacket, which he’d dropped in his heroic attempt to save my life. “Here.” He offered to take my trash.

I handed it to him, still working to slow my breath.

“And here.” He swung his jacket around my shoulders before I could protest.

It was getting cooler as night fell, and the breeze hadn’t let up. I’d redone my topknot three times in a vain attempt to wrangle every strand out of my eyes and mouth and into submission. The soft fabric of the suit jacket made an ideal windbreak, and my skin turned from gooseflesh to bathwater warm in an instant.

He wiped his hands on a napkin, tossed that, and waved at the gloriously illuminated building across the street. “Would you like to go up to the top? We have a little time.”

Of course I longed to go to the top. I was dying to go to the top. I’d thought about nothing else from the second I’d spotted it, somehow even while I was choking, but that was because of Sleepless in Seattle, and I wanted going to the top of the Empire State Building to be special for me, too.

I realized it was childish, the dream of a moony female pup instead of an Alpha Heir, but the heart wants what it wants, and while my body definitely wanted Sebastian, I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure about my heart. Worse, though, since I’d recognized how his heart wanted me, I didn’t know if it would be fair to him for us to go together. Not yet.

“I, uh—”

Before I could utter another word, shadows melted into human shapes around us. Three people dressed like a cross between circus performers and this year’s “Derelict” parody fashion line surrounded us, falling to their knees at my feet.

Chapter Eleven

Sebastian flew ahead of me, and judging by the musk coming off him, his wolf was seconds from exploding out of his very expensive suit. Unfortunately, that would create a serious problem, considering we were still in the middle of Midtown just a little past rush hour, and hundreds of people were streaming by us on the sidewalk. A human river parting around the strangers at my feet.

Damian’s mind-controlled minions? Could killers really come in harem pants and retro Steve Madden boots? Panicked, my gaze searched their hands and bodies for weapons, but all I saw were layers of beaded bracelets, trinkets, and necklaces with wolf and constellation pendants swinging at their throats.

Stay calm. Don’t you smell them?

I sniffed and a wave of pheromones filled me. They were shifters. Two males and a female. All smelled of deference. The way everyone used to do when my father walked into a room. But… I frowned. Not just your average Alpha-directed deference. Reverence.

What the…?

As my eyes flew over these strange strangers once more, I spotted a face that I recognized and gasped, grabbing Sebastian’s arm. “Stop! I know them.”

Sebastian whirled, muscles still clenched with readiness for the fight. “You do?”

“Yeah, sort of.” I pointed to the oldest female, her brunette braids streaked with gray. “I know her, at least. They’re shift…” I started, and then stopped, looking around at the crowd of pedestrians. “They’re like us.” I waved to them and stage-whispered. “Get up, please! You’re going to draw very unwanted attention.”

“Our apologies, Promised One,” the youngest male said as he rose, gesturing to the others.

“Yes, apologies,” the other two murmured, rising but keeping their heads down.

I glanced around, examining the people around us for signs of concern or recognition, but we were being thoroughly ignored. Perhaps people just thought they’d encountered a particularly odd hipster flash mob, or a wedding proposal gone off the rails. No matter how many outsiders liked to knock New Yorkers for being disinterested when weird shit went down, I was deeply grateful at this moment.

“Promised One?” Sebastian repeated dryly, the tension in his jaw relaxing just a tad. “Can you explain what’s going on here, Elyse?”

I stared at the three strangers, trying to wrap my mind around what I saw. The female I had recognized from the photograph that Mateo had given me, the one of him and my mother and a small group of shifters that called itself the Children of Leto. The others I didn’t know, but since I could smell their wolves—and their extreme submission—I was no longer afraid.

Confused? Yes. Surprised? Definitely. But not afraid.

“Unfortunately not, Sebastian. All I know is that she—” I pointed at the female. “—was part of a group that my mother belonged to.” I turned to him, adding, “And Mateo.”

“Mateo?” His brow furrowed, turning back to the shifter-hippies. “What does Mateo have to do with this?”

The three shifters looked at him blankly as if their eyes were all controlled by the same puppeteer. Part of me worried this was a sign they were under Damian’s spell, but another part of me knew he didn’t have enough imagination for this incredible costume design. Whatever they were doing, they were doing on their own.

“Hey,” I addressed the female. “You. What’s your name?”

“Ayla, Promised One,” she replied, head down. “I’m so honored to be in your presence. And this is Jasper and Monty.”

“Honored,” the two males murmured in echo.

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