Page 15
The other males keep their distance as if I might have the plague. They turn their backs on me, giving me a disconcerting feeling that I’m little more than an afterthought.
My fingernails bite into my palms as I hurry to catch up to the Alpha who has nearly left me behind. His command to follow him is clearly meant to be obeyed, and I don’t intend to find out what’ll happen if I stick around with so many younger male shifters nearby without any sort of protection.
Their stray gazes are enough to suppress any rebellious thoughts.
For now.
My lungs were already burning, but now they feel like they’re on fire as I struggle to keep up with Godric and the three other shifters who have struck up a conversation with him. I can’t help but catalog every stray bit of information I can gather from them.
“The next train is delayed,” one says.
“How long?” Godric asks.
“Three days.”
This seems to concern the Alpha, as his gait falters, but he quickly recovers. “The new arrivals will stay in the commons with the unmated females.”
There’s some grumbling, and I can only assume that’s not the ideal scenario. I can’t imagine that female wolf shifters are going to get along very well with humans that are intended as bedmates for the very males they have probably grown up with all their lives.
But I don’t know how mating or courtship works with wolf shifters. This is Monster Isle. Mate pairings are decided in the games, but actual mate bonds can be formed at any time, if gossip circles are to be believed. There was once a rumor of an illegal feed some of my brother’s friends once tapped into that showed some sort of trials that happened before the official games.
With the survivors engaging in very much “mating” type behavior in the resulting evening.
“Ulara is going to have her hands full,” Ronan says, but it’s with a sense of mirth that doesn’t match the mood.
Godric bypasses the comment, asking what else he’s missed.
The most concerning bit of information has my brow furrowing. “We don’t have enough food until the upcoming shipment that was supposed to come with the next train. We’re going to have to send out some new hunting parties, which will leave our east wing unguarded.”
What’s in the east wing?
I glance up, but I can’t see the sun because of the overcast weather. I have no idea which direction we’ve been walking this whole time.
We arrive at what I can only describe as a hole in the ground surrounded by protective walls and a stone roof. Godric glances at me, proving that he has, in fact, been aware that I’ve been dutifully following.
My chest heaves from the exertion. My fragile lungs are not a fan of all this walking around, and I have a feeling that this is nothing. A brisk walk across the encampment shouldn’t be a big deal, but without magical support, I struggle with most forms of exercise.
My fingers itch to sneak a drop of one of my potions to resolve the sting in my chest, but I can’t risk anyone seeing what I’m doing. Four wolf shifters are right in front of me, and one wrong move could give away my only advantage.
And what would the shifters do with Rinhold magic?
Nothing good, if the past history of monsters getting their hands on my family’s tonics is any indicator.
Monster number one being my brother, Edward, who is the reason I’m here in the first place. He might be human on the surface, but it doesn’t take supernatural genetics to make someone a monster.
“I’ll be inside shortly,” Godric says to the others, who seem to be waiting for permission. They unlock from their stone postures the moment he speaks.
They exchange looks I can’t read, but descend into the darkness one by one. The ground has been carved out into a series of stone steps that lead into a very literal “den.”
It’s only after the others are gone that Godric places his massive palm at the small of my back and leads me into the shadow of the walls, blocking us from view from the rest of the camp.
When I turn to face him, my heart leaps into my throat as I realize I’m trapped between a rock and a hard… man.
Wolf. Whatever he is.
My throat works on a swallow as his amber eyes practically glow in the shade of the enclosure. He presses one hand against the wall and leans down, presumably to meet me at eye level, but my body misreads the gesture as flirtatious intimacy.
He’s not interested in me, I remind myself, then press my lips together. And I’m definitely not interested in anyone who buys a bunch of women for wolves to chew on.
