#wolfshifter

His eyes are dark, filled with warmth and humor, not mockery. He shakes back his long shaggy brown hair and combs a clawed hand through the wild beard around his lupine muzzle.

Soara steps next to me, bending to whisper into my ear. “He hasn’t shifted yet. The one defending the ring isn’t allowed to shift off the damage. His left side is weak below the ribs, a strike there followed by a strong takedown may win it for you. Don’t let him grapple you.”

I blink at her, surprised she’d offer me council. “Thank you.”

“We Five Claw sisters need to stick together. Good luck.” She pats my back and steps away.

I flick my ear tip as I stride forward. Unlike Soara, I don’t keep my hair in my Vargree skin. But I note this Havandr the Grim does. Perhaps it’s a style in the north. We circle each other and he eyes me. She’s right, he’s favoring his whole left side and the kick he took to the knee earlier appears to be wearing on him. I find it interesting he’s taken on so many opponents and doesn’t appear tired.

“A bit small for a warrior, aren’t you?” That annoying, confident grin curls his muzzle again. “It’s all right, gorgeous. I have a soft spot for the little feisty ones.”

I grin back, planning to exploit every soft spot he has. Havandr moves first, startling me since in his previous bouts he let his opponent come to him. I rush past him, spinning to plant a hard fist under his ribs, and I’m rewarded with a surprised grunt. Soara was right.

His arm bends back at an impossible angle, almost catching me as I skate by. It’s then his scent hits me—a warm, seductive spice. Heat pools low in my gut. I shake my head, spinning out of reach. He’s been fighting in this ring for at least an hour. How does he smell so good? Like good enough to rub against.

Fast. Fast. Faster. I close and drop, landing two more hits, one to the side and one to his gut. He grunts again, fingers ruffle through my fur, but don’t find purchase. I’m out of his range before he recovers. We stare at each other panting. Havandr’s eyes dilate to black. His scent is on me, clinging to my fur like some exotic spice. I inhale, enjoying it.

“Little she-wolf,” he purrs—and this is the first time tonight I’ve heard him flirt with any of his opponents. “I can think of much better ways to spend our evening.”

“I’m getting put off by your references to my size. Maybe you should focus on the bout you’re losing.” I feint to the right and slam an elbow hard into his left. Something cracks and it’s not me. Emboldened, I spin behind him, kicking the back of his knee. He’s barely attempting to defend himself, seeming more inclined to take a read on me.

Havandr stumbles but doesn’t go down. He turns and I swear every thrice-damned muscle on his chest ripples. It’s hypnotic. I almost want to ask him to do it again. The next thing I know, he’s got a hand around my throat and I’m up in the air kicking. I’m uncertain how he moved that fast. I thrash, trying to win free as stars dance before my vision. He cocks his fist back, sending two sharp jabs into my gut. Air rushes out but isn’t coming back.

“Yield. This was fun, but as they say, all good things must end.”

I roll my eyes at the cliche. In a last ditch effort, I shift, whipping my legs forward to wrap around his neck. My narrower throat slips from his hand as my weight sets him off balance. Slamming my back to his chest, I hang suspended upside-down on his torso by my clenched thighs. I jab my elbows into his already damaged ribs and he grunts. My abdomen muscles scream in protest as I curl upward. My crotch muffles his shout of surprise, but ‘all is fair’ since he loves those cliches.

We land in a pile and I quickly squeeze my thighs on his neck, then give a hard twist. His neck cracks and the crowd goes silent. I shove the bulk of his dead weight off me. Looking up, I’m not surprised to see Destin’s golden blond hair in the crowd. I stand, brushing myself off. Then look down at Havandr, waiting for him to heal.

After a long moment, his head rolls, the odd angle of his neck straightens, and he shifts to his human skin. Dark eyes flutter open. I offer him my hand. He grasps it and grins, pulling me down to him. Then he kisses me. A full-of-passion on the mouth kiss, and damn, he tastes like sin. That dark spice scent fills my senses until he’s all I’m aware of and I let him continue, heedless of the fact people surround us until a wild cheer goes up.

Shocked, I freeze on top of him as awareness crashes back into me. His lips are hot. His beard isn’t soft like Liam’s. It prickles roughly against my skin. I pull back and he stands, takes my hand, and raises it high. “We have a new champion of the ring! Skadi the She-wolf of Pack Five Claw.”

The crowd goes wild and I stand there, still shocked. They thrust a jug full of coins into my arms.

“The night is young. Can I buy you a drink?” Havandr smiles down at me. He’s rugged in his human skin, with high round cheeks and thick dark eyebrows. My head barely comes to his sternum now that we stand relaxed side by side. “Or perhaps you can buy me a drink, since you won the pot.”

I blink at him, still a little stunned. “I don’t need the coin. I can split it with you.”

He grins and leans in, whispering so softly only I can hear it. “It was worth every chit just to have my face between your sweet thighs.”

I smack him. Hard. “I broke your neck with those ‘sweet thighs.’”

“Worth it.” He rubs his cheek with a grin.

“Grim! I see you’ve met my protégé,” Destin says, stepping forward to hopefully end this embarrassing exchange.

Havandr looks from Destin back to me, still rubbing his reddened cheek. “That explains so much.”

“She’s a bit of a beast, isn’t she?” Destin quips, pulling me to his side. I may have another neck to snap tonight.

“Enjoyably so.” Havandr eyes us both, as if trying to determine if I’m only a student or something more. “Well, you’re always welcome to join us.”

I suppress a sigh. Obviously, he’s hedging his bet.

“Actually, it’s time I get this one back to the inn. Perhaps another night.”

“Yes,” Havandr says thoughtfully then holds his hand to me, palm up. “Skadi, it was a pleasure.”

I stare at his hand a moment then place mine in it. Politely, Havandr touches his forehead to the back of my hand, then releases me. Destin takes my arm, leading me away. I adjust my grip on the heavy jug, resting it on my hip as we walk.

“Who is he?”

“Grim’s a packless mercenary that sells his muscle to the highest bidder, and he just let you take his winnings for the night. So let’s move along before he changes his mind.”

“But I beat him,” I protest.

“Skadi, not to be vulgar, but you put your cunt in his face and squeezed your damn thighs. Grim gave you the pot for the pleasure of it. He could have plucked you off at any time before you finished that move.” Destin laughs. “Not that the fight wasn’t impressive, and ballsy. But I’m certain he enjoyed it far more than you realize. For Grim, breaking his neck like that was probably akin to foreplay.”

I choke. “Are you serious?”

 I snap at the bear again, seeking to sink my teeth into its throat, but it jerks its head and all I get is a mouthful of rancid fur. Wriggling one arm free, I swipe at it, digging long claws into its side. Enraged, the bear lifts its bulk and I take a hasty gulp of air before it slams down on me again.

 “Look out! There’s a rabid bear up there!” Someone shouts a warning that is far too late.

 I roll my eyes at the comment. Bracing my back against the ground, I flex my arms, shoving the bear far enough off me to bring my knees to my chest under the great beast. Putting every ounce of strength behind it, I slash downward with my back claws. A hot spill of entrails and blood covers me, evidence of my success, as my claws rake its stomach open. The stench of rot fills the air.

 The bear reels backward and I’m able to take half a breath, until the sting of my ribs has the world going out of focus. Don’t pass out. Awkwardly, I lunge from the bear and crawl away, realizing too late I’m at the edge of the cliff. I push myself up as the beast’s rubbery lips peel back from yellowed teeth before it roars and charges. The cliff drop-off is at my back. I brace myself as the bear barrels toward me, then twist as it strikes to use its own momentum to hurl it over the side.

 Not bothering to watch it soar into the cloudless summer sky, I slump to the gritty earth, waiting for my pulse to stop pounding in my ears. Closing my eyes, I ignore the distant wails of the creature as it plummets to the valley below. The feeling of exhilaration ebbs. I could have died–not that anyone would have cared.

 All I wanted was a little time for myself today. Time away from the judging eyes of my pack. A day without snide jibes or ridicule for being a halfbreed bastard. I was going to pick some herbs for the pack healer, maybe take a dip in the lake. I wasn’t expecting a fight against a disease-riddled creature.

     Breathe in    … the pain in my side flares and stars dance before my eyes. I focus on my wolf form, shifting to my four-pawed body and keen senses. My wounds heal with the change, bringing blessed relief.

     Breathe out    … I shift back to my bi-pedal Vargree skin, still covered in filth. Gross. I pant, stretching out onto my back to stare at the sky, trying to slow my racing heart.

 “Are you alive?”

 I blink. For one ridiculous moment, I think the spirit of the bear is speaking to me. But the voice comes from below. Rolling onto my stomach, I peer over the edge of the cliff.

 A dark-haired man hangs from an outcropping of root, his toes barely set on a thin ledge. Still dazed, I stare down at him. There are never any humans in these woods. An upward draft brings his wolfish scent to me–he’s a Vargree like me.

 The root groans under his weight.

 “What are you doing down there?” I ask, trying to make sense of why anyone would cling to a cliff face.

 “I’m enjoying the breathtaking view.” The strange Vargree flashes me a roguish smile. “I could use a hand up.” The root drops another inch, and he gives me a frantic look that belies his previous lighthearted tone.

 “Shift and climb,” I call down to him. He should be able to dig into the cliff face easily with his claws.

 “I’ll be too heavy. This root won’t hold much longer.”

 He’s too far down for me to reach him. Frowning, I realize I’m not strong enough to carry him, even in my Vargree skin. “I saw some vines on the next rise,” I say over my shoulder as I set off.

 “I’ll be right here,” he says, sounding pretty jovial for a man hanging by a thread above certain oblivion.

 I grab my sickle knife off the ground and run back to another steep slope on the mountainside. The thick vines aren’t hard to cut, and I twist them together as I race back to him. I anchor the makeshift rope to a nearby tree for safety and toss it over the edge. “Grab that and I’ll haul you up.”

 Before I can get to the edge to see him, there’s a ripping noise and tumbling gravel. The twisted vines yank tight, scraping my hands. I pull back hard.

     Sweet mother Vanadis, he’s heavy!    The vines go slack and worry fills me before a sable-furred hand appears over the edge, followed by black-tipped ears lined with golden metal hoops. He grunts, and I rush forward to pull him up to safety. Realizing how enormous his Vargree skin is, I grasp his tunic and the leather of his belt. With another heave, we both fall to the ground panting.

 Turning to look at him, pure terror chokes me as I’m dwarfed by his shadow. He’s not just a Vargree, but one of the northern winter wargs. My mother’s brutal stories–that they are all rapists and murderers–pour into my mind. The gigantic wolf-shifters have waged war for centuries in the north. The stories have trickled down even as far as these quiet lands.

 The warg breathes in, likely scenting my fear. I scramble back, adrenaline still rushing through my veins. Will he attack now? Is he even able to? I need to run while he’s still stunned.

 “Hey, pup. You just saved my life. I won’t hurt you.” With a glimmer of concerned hazel eyes, he reaches out to me, but I'm already moving as I pull on my faster wolfskin.

 Four paws hit the turf and I’m running for my life. My heart hammers wildly against my chest. Rabid bears? Winter wargs? Fenrir’s balls. How much worse can this day get? I try to get enough ground between us before he pursues.

 If I can make it back to my pack… as if that’s any safer. I falter as a sharp rock catches my paw, ripping open the pad. Crashing sounds in the underbrush behind me and I ignore the pain, letting the sheer terror spur me on. Wargs are brutal. Ruthless. All of them. My entire life I’ve heard stories of the ferocity and cold-hearted natures of the far north packs. They take whatever they want. I should know. I’m a result of it: my father is a warg, my mother unwilling. Her words echo back to me. Never be alone, always stay with the pack.

 The pack hasn’t shown me much kindness, though.

 Pain rips through my leg with every stride and the blood leaves a trail a child could follow. Briefly, I consider shifting to heal it. Glancing back, I realize it’s impossible. A sable-furred shadow races toward me through the verdant trees. He’s enormous, easily the size of a draft horse, and gaining fast.

 I put on a fresh burst of speed, snapping my head forward only to crash against something immovable. A startled yelp escapes me as thick, furred arms hoist me into the air. Another warg. What are they doing here? Frantically flailing my paws, I bite at his face. Bright blue eyes widen as he turns his tawny muzzle away from me and glances over my shoulder.

 “Hold her,” the warg chasing me growls.

 I scrabble desperately against my captor’s grip, bringing my back legs up to disembowel him like I did the bear. Barking as I snap at him, I struggle, but it’s no use. He’s far stronger.

 “Fenrir’s shaggy cock. She’s a fighter!” His golden-furred arms loosen to swing me away from his body, then he slams my back to his chest. My breath rushes out in a gust, leaving me stunned.

 The warg I saved strides toward me, tossing my herb basket to the ground. Even in my sheer fright, a part of me marvels at his presence as he shifts to his human form. My world slows down as a strange sensation burns through my veins. Not fear–attraction. It tingles over me as I try to make sense of it.

  Straight dark brown hair falls forward over intense hazel eyes. His shoulders go on forever as he looms closer to us, and a frustrated expression twists his handsome, roughly chiseled features. His eyes soften as he slowly extends a hand toward me. “Easy, pup. We aren’t going to hurt you. Destin, put her down.”

 I squirm again in the tawny warg’s arms, smearing him with my bloodied foot and the offal from the bear. He gags on the stench as I shift to my Vargree skin,   taking on my half form so I can speak. Adjusting his grip, he grunts against my furred cheek as my   weight and size increases, but doesn’t let go.

 “Then why were you chasing me?” I grit out as the steel-like arms around me tighten further.

 “Did she hurt you?” The warg called Destin growls. He hisses as I rake long claws over his forearm in an attempt to get free.

 The other warg chuckles. “No. But she’s liable to shred your pretty hide if you don't release her.”

 My clawed feet touch the ground, but he still keeps me trapped in his arms. I glare at the warg I saved, regretting that I did. I’m going to get murdered in these woods. Why did I come out here alone? Stupid. I focus on bringing forth the voice of my wolf, ready to fight.

 “Who are you?” the warg asks as he steps closer. The clean, musky scent of him fills my nostrils and that strange tug echoes through me again. It’s familiar somehow, almost sweet like dry fall leaves. He rests his hand under my long muzzle, lifting it to him.

 I’m tempted to lunge and snap at him, but I don’t. Something stings in my chest the moment I gaze into his bemused face. He’s gorgeous in his human form, tanned skin and smoky dark looks. I can’t seem to remember how to breathe as I shake my head out of his hand. Destin’s grip tightens around me in warning. I went from one brutal opponent to another. I’ll never submit, I’d rather die fighting.

 “You will release me now.” Thank Vanadis, the voice comes ringing with the echo of the goddess. Tawny arms instantly go slack as the other warg’s dark brows rise.

 “You have the voice,” he murmurs in awe.

 I turn to run, but he grips my forearm. Thick blunt fingers dig into my gray fur. A warmth tingles along my flesh where our bare skin touches. I call the power forth again, glaring into his hazel eyes. “Release me.”

 “No, pup. I’m afraid that won’t work on me.” His lips lift, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “But it was an admirable try. Take a knee.”

 His voice echoes with the same power, and as if pressed, my legs fold and I kneel before him. Terror chokes me further. I grit my teeth. “Is this how you thank me for saving you?”

 “Easy, pup, no one here will hurt you… let’s try this again.” He kneels before me, lifting my muzzle with a single finger. I want to bite his hand, but I can’t seem to move. “What is your name?”

 “Piss off.” I try to rise, but his will is far stronger than mine. My body shakes against his command as I try to resist it, failing utterly.

 Rich and deep, his chuckle leaves my stomach fluttering. I squirm at the unfamiliar sensation, and growl as he strokes a gentle hand along my furred cheek. Lightly, he brushes the very tips of his fingers along my pointed ears as if trying to soothe me. I flatten them in annoyance.

 “I’m Drott Liam of pack Five Claw. This is my yodha, Destin. We’re traveling through the area seeking pack Máni. I promise I won’t hurt you, my savior.” He stands, then offers me his hand.

 Feeling the compulsion lift, I glare at his extended hand as I hesitate. He’s a pack leader? He can’t be out here with only his second in command. Is Five Claw invading this region?

 “Come on, pup. You somehow threw a bear three times your size off a cliff. I should be the one afraid of you.” His smile is far more charming than it has any right to be. Refusing the offer of help, I stand, then glance at the warg who captured me.

 Destin’s in his human skin now, tall with wavy blond hair and large, startling blue eyes. He’s clean-shaven, with a pointed jaw and cheekbones so sharp I could cut myself on them. With those thick lips and straight nose, he’s almost too pretty for a man. His body is lean and sculpted, still tense. I know he’ll pin me again with one word from the drott. He glances from Liam to me as if awaiting an order. Now is my chance. I leap, shifting mid-air to my faster wolfskin. As soon as my paws hit the ground, I run.