Dire Wolves of London Box Set Read online

  Friday January 12, 6:30 p.m.

  Dressed in a charcoal grey wool coat that covered a navy suit and his favourite brown leather boots, Roth strode quietly into the Suffolk Arms in Soho. The pub was a dark affair, tucked away in a secluded cul-de-sac in one of London’s more affluent neighbourhoods. Some might have found it gloomy, but to a Dire Wolf accustomed to roaming about in the dark, the low lights felt comfortable, welcoming. A den of sorts.

  A hearth along the far wall was lit up to bring a warm glow to the faces of the pub’s inhabitants. Irish music hummed through hidden speakers in distant corners, rendering the mood melancholy and chipper at once.

  Apt, Roth muttered, to lead me into a potentially volatile meeting with a Dragon Alpha. It’s entirely possible that I’m about to get my arse kicked.

  Or my flesh burned, which would be somewhat worse.

  The call from Lumen had come in at ten a.m., and Roth hadn’t yet decided if he should be filled with dread or honoured to have been asked here for a chat with the most powerful shifter in England.

  For the moment, his mind was choosing muted dread. Lumen would know about last night’s murder by now; he’d know that Roth and Laird had failed to prevent it, despite the fact that the incident had occurred in the very neighbourhood that they were meant to be patrolling.

  “Just get through this meeting,” he muttered as he inhaled the dark scent of the establishment. “It’ll be painful, but remember that you have other, more pleasant plans for later this evening that should make this dread fade into a distant memory. That is, if Lumen lets you leave this place with your bollocks intact.”

  Roth took a deep breath and advanced, scanning the pub for the Dragon leader’s familiar face. It only took a few seconds to locate the man he and Laird had been summoned to meet. The leader of the Guild was seated at a distant table, apparently enjoying a quiet pint with a companion.

  Lumen’s hair was light brown, his eyes a strange shade of aqua that didn’t exist anywhere in nature other than the most tropical beaches. His face was remarkable for the fact that he always managed to seem both incredibly handsome and stern at once, soft and hard, charming and off-putting. He had a presence, that was for sure, and he epitomized every kind of strength imaginable.

  His reputation was that of a confident but reasonable man, one who cared very much about his fellow Dragon shifters, particularly those known as the Kindred. They were the men and women who had located the four Symbols of Power in recent months, bringing them together to form the strongest alliance of shifters the world had known in centuries.

  As Roth drew nearer, he could see that across the table from Lumen sat another shifter, one with dark hair and a square jaw. He, too, was familiar; they’d met once in Cornwall. Minach, his name was. Like the other members of the Dragons’ highest ranks, he was loyal, powerful and somewhat intimidating. It was probably a bad sign that he was Lumen’s chosen companion for the evening.

  As he approached the table, Roth wondered how the city’s Dragon shifter population had managed to keep themselves under the radar for so long, given how much they stood out from ordinary humans. Neither man fit particularly well into his small wooden chair, and both looked as though they could take on an entire football team single-handedly in a bar brawl.

  Roth stepped forward confidently, much as his insides were bracing for the conflict to come. There was no way Lumen had asked him here simply to enjoy a pint and mull over recent weather patterns. Well, whatever his reasons, The Dire Wolf shifter could only hope the meeting would end quickly. Best to take his lumps and get it over with.

  “There you are,” Lumen said, rising to his feet to shake hands when Roth had stepped up to the table, though the Dragon Alpha had probably known for some time that he was nearby. “Won’t you sit down?” He gestured to an empty chair next to Minach’s. It was a friendly enough command, but a command all the same.

  “Thanks,” Roth replied, pulling up the chair as he scanned the pub with his keen eyes. “Laird should be by any time now. I’m not quite sure what’s keeping him.”

  “It’s fine,” Lumen said. “We can wait. It’ll give us a chance to get to know one another a little better. Listen, you’ve met Minach, yes?”

  Roth eyed the dark-haired shifter, offering a brief, cautious smile. “Of course. I remember what you and your mate did for those who live on our lands, Minach; it’s part of the reason my pack is here. Good to see you.” The last statement was a bit of a lie, but most attempts at social niceties were subtle untruths, after all.

  “Likewise, I suppose,” growled Minach, who seemed utterly allergic to any expression that wasn’t a grimace.

  When Roth had met him after the not-quite-battle that had taken place last year in Cornwall, he’d assumed that the Dragon shifter was putting on a deliberately icy countenance, but he was quickly learning that the man was cursed with a chronic case of RTF, otherwise known among the Dire Wolves as Resting Tosser Face.

  Lumen threw his fellow Guild member a quick glare and said, “Minach, why don’t you grab us a few pints? I expect Roth could use a drink, and no doubt Laird will want one when he arrives.” Immediately and wordlessly, his subordinate rose to his feet to saunter over to the bar. “Sorry about him,” said Lumen, turning back to Roth. “He’s wary of people he doesn’t know well. Fuck it; he’s wary of the ones he does know, too.” With that, he let out a friendly chuckle.

  “Understandable,” said Roth. “As am I. It pays, sometimes, to be on the alert for enemies. Speaking of which, about last night…”

  “The attack, yes. It’s serious business, and we’ll get to it soon enough.” Lumen sat back and shot Roth an appraising look before speaking again. “Here’s the thing—I’ve been wanting to talk to you for some time, tonight’s meeting aside,” he said.

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “A number of reasons, to be quite honest.”

  Roth got the distinct impression that Lumen wanted to ask something that wasn’t entirely appropriate, and was currently searching his mind for the right words.

  “Oh?” the Dire Wolf shifter said again, inviting interrogation.

  “For one thing, I’ve heard rumours about your pack.”

  “Rumours?” Roth wasn’t sure if he should smile or frown. Rumour was an ugly word that rarely led to anything good.

  “I’m curious,” Lumen replied, “about your intention to find a mate here in London.”

  “I see,” Roth replied, but he smiled, amused at the other Alpha’s forwardness, not to mention how far afield the topic seemed. What the hell does my relationship status have to do with anything?

  Lumen was staring through him now in a way that made the Dire Wolf Alpha feel like his brain was being probed for information. But the sensation wasn’t exactly invasive; somehow, it was comforting. He didn’t know how the Dragons’ leader was doing it, but Roth, normally reticent and closed-mouthed, suddenly wanted nothing more than to open up to the pseudo-stranger. It was as though he was slightly inebriated, a warm feeling of affection coating his insides. He could feel his inhibitions melting away as the seconds ticked by, despite the fact that he hadn’t yet taken a single sip of beer.

  “Sorry if I seem to be prying,” Lumen added. “It’s only that I’ve heard interesting tidbits, and I’m rather fascinated.”

  “Tidbits, is it? Well, I don’t yet have a mate, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “I wasn’t wondering; I know that as of this moment you find yourself single. But I’d heard that the Dire Wolves—your pack in particular—were considering returning to the Old Ways.”

  “Ah.” Roth sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling. So it all comes down to the Ritual. “You’re wondering if it’s true.”

  Lumen raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I’m curious, yes. I haven’t heard of a shifter abiding by the ancient rites in centuries.”

  “All right, then. It’s true. I intend to follow the traditions of my ancestors.”

&nbs
p; Lumen leaned in, his voice going low. His eyes were the fiercest shade of turquoise, mesmerizing in their intensity. He looked entertained, as though this sort of friendly interrogation were simply a way to amuse himself. “So the three-way affair of legend…you’re telling me it’s about to make a return to the mainstream.”

  The Ritual was always such a topic of fascination to anyone who’d been conditioned to believe that relationships were simple two-way streets and nothing more. “Yes,” replied Roth. “There will be three in my relationship, when and if it happens. Two men, one woman. Laird and I will be the men involved.”

  “Interesting,” Lumen said.

  “What’s interesting?” a deep voice spoke from behind Roth, who let out a quiet laugh, relieved to feel Laird’s presence. The big man could always diffuse the tension in a room.

  “Just that we intend to take one female mate for the two of us,” Roth replied as Laird pulled up a chair and seated himself at the table. Roth wondered if it was Lumen’s presence that prompted his friend to sit straighter than usual, uncharacteristically attentive and professional.

  “Interesting’s one word for it, yeah,” said Laird, a half-cocked smile taking over his features. “Incredibly pleasurable are another two words.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?” asked Lumen, looking at one man and then the other. “The concept of sharing a mate, I mean?”

  “Not in the least,” said Roth. “I suppose it’s in our blood; it has to do with a pack mentality. We like to share. But of course there are other benefits, as well. For us and for our mate.”

  “A shared increase in power,” Lumen added thoughtfully. “It sounds similar to my bond with my Seeker. So, if you two are to share power, what does that mean for the pack’s hierarchy?”

  Roth glanced over at Laird. “It means that we will share the role of Alpha,” he said, “at least to some degree.”

  Laird’s right eyebrow arched in surprise. “Really?” he asked.

  “Of course. At least as far as I’m concerned, you’re my equal in rank.”

  “I don’t know, Roth. You’re more leader material than I am,” Laird replied. “I’m not so into the responsibility thing as you are.”

  “Fine, then. You can fetch my slippers and bring me newspapers and I will lead the pack triumphantly, then.”

  “I believe you’re thinking of a dog, you wanker.”

  Roth slapped his forehead. “A dog. That’s it.”

  “Tell me something,” interrupted Lumen, his amused eyes shifting from one man to the other. “How close are you to bonding? Have you found her yet?”

  It was another deeply personal question, but Roth knew well enough to understand that Lumen didn’t pry without a reason. He’d do well to answer honestly.

  “We have found her,” he said, “and soon, we’ll be with her, if all goes well.”

  “Good,” said Lumen, pressing his hands into the table and pushing himself back in his seat. “Good. You see, I understand the strength that comes from a bond. More than you two might know. The truth is, I need you both to be strong. I need your Dire Wolves to gain every advantage. So I encourage you—and the rest of your pack—to find your mates sooner rather than later.”

  By this time, Minach had returned with the pints. He lay them down and seated himself. “Drink up, fellows,” he grunted, taking a swig of his own ale.

  “Thanks,” Roth replied. “Laird, this is Minach. Minach, Laird.”

  “Ah, yes. I remember you from our brief time together in Cornwall. Hello, Sunshine,” Laird said, throwing a toothy grin at the Dragon shifter, who let out another low grunt.

  “So listen,” said Lumen, “much as I’d like to keep talking about the mating rites of your pack, I’ve asked you here for another reason entirely, so I suppose we should get down to business.” As he spoke, his tone altered to something more professional, more authoritative. “I suspect that you know what it is.”

  Roth found himself clenching his jaw tight. The tension between the two sides of the table had suddenly grown so thick that one would have been hard pressed to cut through it with a freshly sharpened blade.

  “You want to discuss the recent attacks,” said Roth. “I suspect that you called us today in particular because of what happened in Notting Hill last night.”

  Lumen nodded solemnly. “Yes. The victim is alive, thanks to a low-flying Dragon who witnessed the assault. But obviously I want this to stop. We all do.”

  Roth dug his fingers into his palms in preparation for a verbal flogging. Remember, he told himself silently, you may be Alpha of your Pack, but he’s Alpha of all of London. Accept the blame, promise to do better and move on. He looked from Lumen to Minach and back again.

  “For the record,” he said, “I take full responsibility. My men have been dispatched to every corner of the city, and they have performed their duties well. I’ll admit, however, that last night we were in Hyde Park, when we should have been elsewhere. If there’s anyone to blame for neglecting Notting Hill for a little, it’s me.”

  “Both of us,” Laird corrected. When Roth looked his way, he shrugged. “Co-Alphas, you said. That means I take the fall if you do. Even if I am relegated to slipper-fetching.”

  A surge of brotherly affection flooded Roth’s chest. Good old loyal Laird. He could be a wanker, but more often than not he was the best man anyone could hope to know.

  “Take the fall?” the Dragon Alpha said. To Roth’s surprise, when he glanced over at Lumen, the Dragon shifter looked more amused than angry. “I’m not sure anyone needs to fall on a sword just yet. But Hyde Park? Really?” he asked. “What were you doing in my territory?”

  “Protecting someone,” said Roth. Protecting, he thought, chiding himself for the quasi-lie. The more honest reply would have been to say that we were drooling over our love interest. But I’ll be fucked if I’m going to announce to the strongest Dragon shifter in the universe that Laird and I failed him last night because we were horny.

  “Ah, I see. You were looking out for your future mate,” Lumen said. The Dragon Alpha was full of surprises, one of which was an apparent ability to read minds. “Well, I can’t fault you for that. But last night’s attack was preventable, as have been the others over the last weeks. Almost every night another Grizzly shifter tries to stake out his territory by showing his dominance over helpless humans. The bastards are becoming more bold with each day that passes, and I’m afraid that each time they succeed, their confidence increases. We need to let them know that their reign of terror is at an end.”

  Roth nodded solemnly. “Of course,” he said.

  “Fucking Grizzlies,” Laird interjected, a little too loudly. “They’ve always been a walking disaster. Out of control, undisciplined, spikey-toothed bastards. I wish they’d stayed hidden.”

  “Agreed,” Minach replied, a hint of friendliness finally infiltrating his voice. It seemed that he and Laird had found some common ground in their seething hatred of the bears.

  “Much as I hate to cast aspersions, I think we all agree with your rather venomous assessment, Laird,” said Lumen. “But there’s something else as well.”

  “Oh?” replied Roth.

  Lumen’s face took on a look of sadness for a moment. “We’ve held a certain powerful spell over the city of London for many years. A spell that’s meant the human population didn’t see shifters for what we are. They get glimpses of us, but quickly forget, as though we’re nothing more than fleeting shadows. We’ve managed to keep the secret for a long time. But now, with the increased shifter population and the attacks, it’s become all but impossible to maintain the secret. The Dragon Guild is powerful, but even we don’t have the capacity to fight the inevitable outcome of all this madness. The truth will come out soon, and we need to be prepared when it does.”

  “I’d heard whispers about this,” Roth said quietly. “It’s worrying, to say the least.”

  Lumen nodded. “Worrying, yes. Which is why we need to step up our efforts. Look
, I know you could have done better last night, but I’m not an utter arsehole, so I’ll admit that we Dragons could have, too. There are almost a hundred of my kind flying over London on any given night, yet our sentinels didn’t spot the attacker until it was almost too late. So, much as you might think I’ve asked you here to condemn you, I’m only looking to improve a fallible system.”

  Roth unclenched his jaw for what felt like the first time in hours. “Improve?” he asked. “What are you proposing?”

  Lumen smiled warmly. “You know as well as I do that you’re not the only Dire Wolf pack in town. But the Wolves of Trekilling are highly regarded by Minach and his mate, who have told me more than once how reliable and honourable your men are. Tell me, Roth, is your entire pack here in London?”

  “No. There used to be more, but we split the pack in two, leaving some behind to look after Trekilling and those who live nearby. A few had recently acquired mates, and we didn’t want to uproot their families. But there are twenty of us here in London—twenty men, ready to serve Laird and me in any way that we ask of them.”

  “You mean you,” corrected Laird. “No one serves me. I am but your second in command. Or something.”

  “Fair enough,” said Roth. “You really don’t like responsibility, do you?”

  Laird shook his head hard. “Not in the fucking least.”

  “Well, I have a proposition for you both,” Lumen said. “We can’t have murderous Grizzly shifters on the loose in London, acting as though they can slay humans with impunity. But in order to keep them under control, we’re going to need to find a way to open the lines of communication between the members of the Guild and your pack. So…I’d like you to join the Dragons’ Guild in an official capacity. Both of you, that is, seeing how you’re partners of sorts.”

  A shot of adrenaline bolted through Roth like a fast-working narcotic. What the actual bloody hell? Here he thought he’d been called to this meeting to be reprimanded for negligence, but instead, he and Laird were being granted the highest honour any shifter could hope for. “Of course we’ll join,” he replied before shooting Laird a look, only to see his companion beaming with silent pride.