Charmed Wolf by Aimee Easterling (best ereader for pdf TXT) 📕

Which meant my clan needed me. I hesitated, reining in my territorial nature and considering which thread to tug.

The obvious thread, I decided, was the one directly in front of me. It seemed like an unlikely coincidence that a powerful shifter had chosen to trespass at the same time non-Guardian fae impacted our clan and Kale went missing. I’d hunt down this wolf then I’d go from there.

To that end, I sniffed along the scent trail in one direction until I could tell it was growing colder. Turning around, I headed back the other way, past Natalie’s car and out onto the main street.

People here didn’t bat an eyelash at a wolf passing between them. They likely thought I was a dog even though I boasted no collar. But, if so, I was the kind of dog usually locked in a chain-link yard to keep intruders out of meth labs. It spoke to the toughness of the neighborhood’s human inhabitants that they didn’t see me coming and head to the other side of the street.

Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe they passed me by then called 911. That’s the only explanation I could give for the whoop that alerted me one second before a huge net came crashing down over my head.

Chapter 15

“Dogcatcher! Step aside!”

I swiveled, or tried to. The woven restraint held me in place, though. I could barely bend enough to see who was on the other end of the net.

What I saw when I finally finished the contortion made me snort out disbelief. The tattooed man hanging out the window of the minivan was rough and wild enough to fit into our current neighborhood. He was also a shifter, if my nose didn’t betray me...and my nose never betrayed me. There was no way he brought home a government paycheck. Dogcatcher, my ass.

It was almost as if he’d heard my silent rejoinder because my captor grinned, the smile making him appear oddly boyish. “Cool it, Fido,” he warned as I attempted to bite my way out of my trap.

I stopped gnawing, not because he told me to but because the net was plastic and unbiteable. There had to be another way of escaping, one that didn’t involve shifting in plain sight.

Above the tattooed guy’s head, I could just barely make out a woman Willa’s age at the wheel. Maybe she....

A horn beeped behind us, one long, drawn-out complaint. Then a cascade of agreement from other horns. The minivan was stopping traffic.

And it was stopping me from locating Kale. Which was when I remembered the obvious. I was Alpha. I should be able to slap down whoever I wanted.

So I snarled, attempting to imbue the vocalization with an alpha order. It should have worked too. Even here outside the heart of my territory, I was still a highly dominant wolf.

Only, my snarl had no impact. The not-really dogcatcher just laughed at me. “Nice try, Fido. Now tuck in your legs.”

His command had the bite mine lacked. My feet folded into my belly without my permission just as the tattooed shifter twisted the handle and scooped me all the way off the pavement. Then I, Alpha of the Whelan pack, was being driven down the street tangled in plastic netting that cut through my fur and into my skin.

I struggled both physically and mentally. Was it coincidence that two alpha commands in a row had fallen flat? Could my weakness be due to the fact I’d yet to jump through all of the Guardian-mandated hoops?

Unfortunately, my contortions weren’t getting me out of the net or closer to the truth. So I gave up. Relaxed both my brain and my muscles while biding my time.

“Good dog,” the not-really-dogcatcher praised me as the van turned down the same alley I’d parked in. The space was tight and my hip bumped up against bricks. Then, abruptly, I was on the ground only twenty feet away from Natalie’s car.

My captor had dropped me so he could get out of the van. Which meant I had perhaps ten seconds to disentangle myself from the net and dart to my pile of clothing in search of weapons. Or perhaps I’d be better off diving into Natalie’s car naked and high-tailing it away from there. Either way, the first item on my agenda was a shift. I’d just have to hope that no unwitting humans started down the alley while I shed my fur.

I was peeling the net away from my head with flexible fingers when shoes settled on either side of my knees and a female voice observed: “I told Ryder his sense of humor was an acquired taste.”

Her words almost sounded like an apology, and no wonder. Few female shifters were dominant, which made the dogcatcher’s chauffeur the weak link in this takedown.

So I tried again with my most deeply imbedded weapon. “Restrain Ryder,” I barked, flinging the net away from me and whirling into the gap where the woman had been one moment earlier.

Only...she was still there. Was standing her ground while shaking her head slowly, the faintest smile on her lips.

Momentum prevented me from stopping before our noses touched. Despite the contact, she didn’t recoil and I didn’t either. Still, when she spoke, I had to force my muscles not to jerk me out of the path of her words.

“Irony is underestimating me because I’m a woman,” she murmured.

Which is when I realized that the darkest dominance I’d smelled when first shifting in this alley hadn’t come from Ryder. It had emanated from her.

BEFORE I COULD TAKE offensive action, though, my phone rang. Some sort of fast and upbeat tune I was too old to understand. Caitlyn was calling.

I eyed the two shifters who’d literally scooped me off the street. “I don’t suppose you’d let me take that?”

“By all means.” The woman nodded. “Be my guest.”

The tattooed guy—Ryder—just stood there with his arms crossed and muscles bulging. The