GRAY Wolf Mate: League Of Gallize Shifters Read online

  He could also watch the walk-in entrance to the left of the overhead door.

  Three minutes had passed when a figure stumbled along the sidewalk on the food bank side of the street.

  Wearing rags wrapped around his head and more hanging from his body, he hunched against the rain. It was hard to determine much about the stranger until he paused to down a slug from a whiskey bottle.

  Cole growled under his breath.

  Not a good time for a civilian to step into this operation.

  The homeless guy had made it to the corner near the door entrance when he sat down beside a large trashcan and practically disappeared into the night. He leaned back against the wall where the short roof overhang for the delivery entrance shielded him from the rain.

  Sighing, Cole couldn’t begrudge a homeless person shelter of any sort.

  A pair of large headlights pierced the rain two blocks away on Cole’s right and headed in his direction.

  The truck turned out to be a food bank delivery vehicle.

  Cole pulled back tight, waiting.

  In thirty seconds, he would have to make a decision.

  As it passed between Cole and the food bank across the street, gears groaned and squealed as the metal overhead door rolled up.

  Evidently the driver had a remote control.

  Or he’d called someone to tell them he was approaching. That would mean two people inside once the truck was parked.

  The vagrant turned toward the noise and scurried toward the opening as the truck pulled inside. Amazingly, the shrunken guy moved fast in a stooped run and managed to get inside the building just before the big metal door would have squashed him.

  Cole couldn’t believe his eyes.

  First rule of a mission was if something could get fucked up, it would.

  Tonight’s mission guidelines were simple. Gather intel and evidence while leaving no DNA or trail.

  Their boss would then hand the information over to the specific US authorities who would make the bust.

  Cole had no issue with being a shadow operator that no one knew existed. He preferred it, but sometimes things just did not work out as planned.

  He couldn’t stand by while an innocent walked into danger.

  The truck driver could be a Black River pack member. There could be another inside.

  That vagrant might be another veteran on the streets.

  Veteran or civilian, one of those wolf shifters would scent him at some point and kill the guy in the most heinous way.

  The Guardian would not approve Cole’s new plan.

  Their boss was not entirely like Cole and his fellow Gallize shifters, but for over three hundred years their leader had owned the title Väktare, which meant guardian.

  Cole held their Guardian in the highest respect, but he had no intention of informing the boss of his plan, since doing so could not bring help in the next minute. Besides, no one on Cole’s team tonight would be in danger except him.

  Rory and Justin were not putting their lives, and futures, at risk when this was Cole’s call alone to make.

  His days were numbered.

  That made him expendable.

  They weren’t. They had a chance at mating and beating the curse.

  If he didn’t survive this, he knew in his heart that his team would continue trying to locate and save Sammy.

  Easing from the shadow, Cole took a step forward, decision made.

  Chapter 2

  Cole strode quietly into the empty street and veered toward the walk-in door on the food bank building. He kept his senses open for any other monkey wrenches flying toward the mission.

  Speaking softly into his comm unit, he said, “Got a hiccup. Clueless night crawler just entered the lion’s den.”

  That informed his team he was referencing an innocent homeless person getting in the way.

  Justin came back with a reminder. “Interfering will change the transcript.”

  “Copy that.” Cole knew the mission parameters. At this point he was supposed to cross the street, wait for the truck to leave and tag a tracking device to it. If the truck departed before regular food bank workers showed up around daylight, he would enter the building to hunt for hard evidence of Jugo Loco, then leave unnoticed.

  Going in now would risk engaging the perpetrators.

  Cole added, “I’m catching the night crawler and bugging out. Maintain status quo until you hear from me.”

  He heard cursing in stereo.

  Rory and Justin could be pissed, but they’d be alive to complain.

  If he was unable to get out with the homeless guy, it would be because the wolves had killed them both.

  If he found the evidence and couldn’t exit the building, he’d break protocol and send word for his men to alert headquarters.

  Every shifter on the Gallize teams knew the importance of leaving a scene clean in this type of operation.

  Cole wouldn’t have to worry about leaving any evidence of his presence if he were caught by the Black River pack, because they fed prisoners to their pack.

  Disgusting cannibals.

  The one upshot of getting killed and eaten if he had to engage? He wouldn’t have to face an ass-chewing.

  Cole stepped onto the pavement and crossed the street at a slow pace to avoid drawing attention, but adrenaline spiked through him.

  Sensing a hunt, Gray Wolf nudged Cole. Me first.

  Not going to happen. Cole didn’t need one more headache right now and Gray Wolf had become increasingly difficult to manage every day over the past two weeks. At one time, his wolf would go dark and stay quiet for twenty to thirty hours, which would worry Cole back during the early days.

  Now, he’d welcome any respite from Gray Wolf’s constant pushing to be released.

  Cole would have to face the Guardian soon and admit he was close to losing control due to the mating curse, just not right now.

  When questioned by other members on the team, the Guardian confirmed that he’d witnessed one case more than a hundred years ago when a Gallize wolf shifter failed to bond with a mate within ten years of his first shift.

  That first shift usually happened when a Gallize was in his early twenties.

  Not like Cole, who’d met his wolf at nineteen.

  Once the curse took effect on that shifter long ago, he’d lost control of his animal within three weeks. The Guardian had put him down, explaining it was the only humane treatment for both the human and the animal.

  Over the years, Cole and his teammates had joked about it, making bets on who would bite the bullet and take a mate first.

  That was before Cole witnessed the powerful Sammy struggling to manage his animal.

  Gray Wolf snarled at being ignored.

  Cole paused on the food bank side of the street and clenched his muscles at the internal struggle he fought constantly now. He curled his fingers, feeling the tips of his claws release. His neck muscles tightened. Gritting his teeth, he forced the claws back out of sight and flexed his hands.

  When he had control again, he continued toward the food bank door. Rain failed to subdue the noxious smells of urine, rotted food and just plain trash.

  He reached the walk-in access to the building and put his ear against the metal door, listening.

  No voices or other sounds came through.

  Maybe there weren’t any wolves here, since it didn’t sound like they’d found the human yet.

  He didn’t have that kind of luck these days.

  Using skills he’d gained after joining the Gallize teams, he made quick work with his lockpick tools, then slowly turned the knob.

  He pulled the door open an inch.

  Pitch dark greeted him.

  He sniffed, taking in the odor of multiple humans who probably worked here.

  Acceptable.

  His night vision took over as he entered slowly, sniffing for any shifter scent. Nothing stood out to him besides mildew-laden air, but it had a weird acidic tinge.

&
nbsp; What the hell could that smell be?

  No scent of Sammy, either.

  Cole wanted to feel relief at that, but Sonic had heard that the Black River pack was taking in shifters for experimental treatments. Word was, a mountain lion shifter had offered big money if the Black River pack could make him normal.

  Rumors circulated that the pack had a doctor performing successful transformations, turning shifters into human only.

  Cole rolled his eyes every time someone mentioned the ridiculous idea.

  Did people really believe you could pry the animal from a shifter’s body? That would be as realistic as infusing an animal into the complex makeup of a normal human.

  Magic played a role, but even that didn’t fully explain the transformation for some shifters.

  A new thought sent chills through Cole.

  Could Sammy have believed that offer and gone looking for help for the mating curse?

  Sammy had been on edge and showing more signs, but ...

  No. Surely Sammy wouldn’t have bought into that load of crap. He’d been the one to teach Cole the difference between truth and myth in their world.

  Claws broke through Cole’s fingertips. Again.

  Gray Wolf banged back and forth, agitated. I protect us.

  Cole forced his breathing to stay calm when his skin rippled with the need to change his shape.

  Clenching his jaw, he wrangled power back into his own hands and locked down his shaking body. Gray Wolf was getting worse.

  Staring at the half claws, Cole couldn’t deny the seduction of a possible cure. At the same time, he could not fathom that the Black River pack had one for any shifter, especially a Gallize-specific problem.

  He would accept his fate when the time came.

  Not yet. Not as long as he had a chance of finding Sammy.

  When the claw tips finally retracted, Cole let out a breath and dismissed all thought of cures. He focused on locating the homeless guy inside. Once he did, he had to get them both out without drawing attention. With a deep inhale, he stepped into the area the truck had entered and caught the scent of a human who hadn’t bathed in a while.

  The scent trailed around the rear of the delivery truck to the driver’s side.

  No sounds of a human being killed and no scent of a wolf shifter. Maybe a human had delivered the truck and was in the office doing paperwork or drinking coffee.

  Getting that kind of break would be nice, and it would allow a minute or two to investigate.

  Cole took note of food stacked on pallets in untidy rows and on shelving closer to the door. Stepping carefully, he searched until he spotted cases of pre-made sweet and unsweetened tea in gallon jugs.

  Jugo Loco had been discovered shipped as plain old tea more than once, because it was extremely difficult for anyone to determine if a jug had tainted product by smell alone.

  Even for the sensitive nose of a wolf shifter.

  Taste would work, but Cole didn’t trust touching the liquid with his tongue. Apparently one sip was all it took, since any shifter accidentally getting ahold of the drug would taste the taint immediately and stop drinking. The reports of vicious attacks by out-of-control shifters had been graphic, and his wolf stayed on the edge of crazy as it was these days.

  Digging into his back pocket, Cole pulled out a plastic baggie containing a set of test strips coated with a reactive chemical which would turn blue if any of the drug was present in the gallon units.

  The first two jugs tested negative, but the strip changed color to blue on the third jug.

  Gotcha.

  Now to find the civilian before any wolves showed up and detected a human—or Cole—on site. He had to attach a satellite transmitter to the truck for tracking, get the homeless guy in hand, then exit as quietly as he’d entered.

  When he neared the back of the truck, he peeked into the bed area where cases of tea were stacked.

  Sonic had come through.

  Based on what Cole had just found in the storage area, this load could very possibly hold more Jugo Loco.

  Cole sent a series of taps on his comm unit, letting his men know he was inside and all quiet.

  What he didn’t have a code for was how something felt off about all of this.

  No sign of life stirred.

  But the human’s scent increased the closer he got to the driver’s side.

  So did that sharp, stinging smell.

  Closing his eyes for a second, Cole struggled to pull out a single scent and processed ... the strong scent of death.

  Shit.

  But what was that pungent smell overriding everything else?

  Where were the people to unload the truck? He moved silently along the truck toward the driver’s door, breathing through his mouth.

  A tiny scuff of noise jerked his head around to the left.

  Cole found his homeless guy trying to hide behind a stack of empty pallets.

  Sniffing in spite of how the tart smell burned his nostrils, Cole picked up the human’s scent again. What the hell was in that cab that smelled so bad?

  Please don’t let it be Sammy.

  Cole would have to be closer to scent even Sammy over that stench.

  With one more look at the human hiding on his left, their eyes met.

  It wasn’t a man, but an elderly woman who looked to be seventy going on two hundred. Her pale, wrinkled face told the story of a hard life. The sickly gaze she held on him said she had one foot in the grave.

  He lifted a finger to his lips and she became very still, watching Cole with the attention of prey facing predator. But she didn’t make a sound. That worked for him.

  Easing forward again, he swept a look through the dark and too-quiet room. On the next breath, he finally picked up a mild scent of shifter that was no longer in the room. The putrid smell from the cab overwhelmed Cole’s olfactory senses.

  He sucked in a deep breath and fought not to cough, but this time he picked up the smell of fresh blood.

  Hell. He moved forward quickly.

  A worn out yellow ball cap snagged his attention first.

  He knew that cap.

  Then a skull earring flickered into view.

  No. He leaped to stand on the running board and gagged at the mix of bitter odor, blood and body fluids. Sonic stared straight ahead with wide-open, dead eyes. His throat had been cut from side to side. His hands were taped to the steering wheel and a note was pinned to his chest. The message was written below the Black River snarling wolf logo that every member wore as a tattoo, and read:

  Surprise, Cavanaugh. Tick. Tock.

  Cole’s mind revolted against the words and image.

  His heart banged viciously.

  A loud click sounded, then ticking started. Cole’s gaze shot to Sonic’s feet where a bomb had been strapped between his legs.

  Nine seconds ... eight ...

  Cole might get out in time if he ran straight for the door, but he couldn’t leave the woman.

  He wheeled around and launched off the truck, landing in front of her. His claws extended and his face tried to change shape.

  She backed away and froze.

  Cole could hear each tick. Five ... four...

  In one scoop, he slung her over his shoulder and raced for the door while shouting in his comm, “Bomb! Retreat, retreat!”

  Justin and Rory’s voices blurred with the roar in Cole’s ears.

  Gray Wolf howled to be released to save them.

  Sirens screeched from multiple emergency units advancing. Were they coming here? How could anyone know already?

  Cole kicked the door open.

  The last second ticked in his mind.

  In one move, he yanked the woman down, wrapped his body around her and leaped forward.

  The explosion blasted him higher off his feet and threw him across the street.

  Time slowed and heat wrapped his body in a scalding blanket, burning clothes and skin.

  He hit a brick surface, snapping bones in t
he arm and hand he’d shoved out to protect the woman from being crushed.

  Blood spewed from his mouth. His momentum held him in place for two slow seconds. Then he slid to the ground.

  Sirens faded until he heard nothing.

  Chapter 3

  Sounds rumbled around Cole, noises lifting and dropping like a warped wave.

  He struggled, trying to wake up, but couldn’t reach the surface of consciousness. His eyelids felt made of lead. His body was one big ball of pain, especially on the left side from his face to his feet.

  Gray Wolf rumbled inside of him. Hurt. Must shift.

  Cole agreed. Why hadn’t he shifted to heal? What was ...

  Drowning in agony, he went under again, releasing his fragile hold on consciousness.

  Time ceased to exist.

  He floated through darkness until light appeared far away. As the light became brighter, he realized he was running for pleasure in a forest with Gray Wolf running at his side.

  Had he died?

  That was the only way he could be running with Gray Wolf. There was no end to forest or sky. Cole’s body was perfect. No pain. Everything was vibrant from the green trees and undergrowth to the bright blue sky peeking through the leaves. Up ahead, an energy began to grow. It emitted a vibrant joy that called to him like a starving man drawn to an endless feast.

  Cole wanted to let go of everything and just be.

  No, Cole, a gentle voice said in his mind. It’s not your time.

  Why not? He knew he’d find peace in that light.

  Go back, Cole. Your journey is not finished. You must mate first.

  Who are you?

  I am Vercane, the Gallizenae druidess who gifted your ancestor with the powers you possess. I will be here for you when it is time, but your time has not yet come. I refuse to lose another Gallize to the mating curse. You are strong. Go back and take your place with a mate.

  Words of anguish screamed in his head. I have no mate.

  Yes, you do. Go to her. The light faded to a tiny dot that blinked out of existence.

  Darkness swallowed him and Gray Wolf until nothing remained but misery.

  Cole’s mind drifted along, unable to latch onto any one thought until someone interrupted his respite from agony.