Page 31 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

He laughs. Laughs.

“You think I brought you here just to heal your wounds? Let you sleep in my bed, then send you on your way?” His voice climbs toward incredulous.

I huff. No, I suppose I hadn’t thought of his motivation at all. I should’ve, though. I should’ve been anticipating this—the other shoe about to drop—as soon as I woke up. No wolf shifter helps a witch out of the kindness of their heart. Not after hunting them through the woods and tracking them for who knows how long.

He smiles, and it’s a bit like he’s baring his teeth at me. I don’t like this smile. It promises pain and bloodshed and violence. He’ll take what he wants from me, then kill me.

“We were after your mother,” he adds. “But in her absence, you’ll do.”

My expression drops. The wolves who came out of the forest following the demon—that confirms they were his. Which means we were never going to get out of there on our own. But it also means he didn’t see her in the woods when she saved me.

One question remains: What the hell did he need her for?

So… “I’ll do what, exactly?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He strides for the door.

The door closes swiftly behind him, followed by the snick of a lock.

I glance around the room again. There’s a bathroom attached, at least. It’s not lost on me that this is his room. He admitted as much. When he could’ve easily thrown me in a spare room, or a dungeon, or… I don’t know. A cage. Maybe the irony of a dog putting someone in a cage is a little too much. I clap my hand over my mouth to suppress my giggle.

I’ve officially lost it.

Help him and he’ll help me. I don’t know who else my mother could’ve been talking about. If we’re going with the obvious, all signs point to the Winter Wolf.

I just need to remember that I might be able to save my mother—if we don’t succumb and kill each other first.

Chapter 7

Kian

My sister sits at the table in my kitchen, glaring at the ceiling. I’m sure she’s focused on the sound of the witch moving around my bedroom, but I’m more interested in what she’s learned. She only just returned this afternoon.

The witch has been sleeping for almost two days.

I rap my knuckles on the table, and Jessamine’s attention jerks back to me.

She growls.

I ignore it, serving myself a plate of food brought over from the lodge. I’ll take a bowl up to the witch when we’ve finished our conversation. My hunger for more knowledge supersedes her hunger.

If the witch wasn’t here, I would’ve gone with my hunters.

Silver Ridge Pack has been settled here for almost a hundred years. My father’s father bought the land from the government for a steal. It’s about an hour outside of the nearest town by car—faster by bike or in wolf form. The less eyes on our odd behaviors, the better.

This land is a hike to get to on a clear summer day. Winter makes it impossible for humans to travel this deep by anything other than snow mobiles, and we can hear those coming from a long way out. It gives us an extra layer of protection from other packs, or witches who think to act against us.

Not that they’ve ever struck first… but it’s better to be prepared.

On the lower half of the property, we own a brewery and apple orchard. Our pack meticulously cultivates the trees every year, supplying apples to stores across the northwest. Our beers and ciders go even farther.

Some of my wolves handle the transportation, driving trucks across the country bearing our logo and making sure our goods are protected. Those who like to remain on the fringes, but still have a home to return to, are well suited for the job. It gives me a unique worldview… and opportunity to speak with other packs.

Because of such allowances, our pack numbers have swelled in the past few decades.

Then there are the hunters. Jessamine and her mate are hunters, as well as a couple of other trusted, bloodthirsty betas. I lead them personally when I’m not otherwise caught up in pack responsibilities.

“We took down four more demons,” Jessamine says.