Lost and Found

By J.J. Collins

Injured and driven out of his forest pack, wolf-shifter Declan escapes to the prairies. Here he encounters hawk-shifter Killian. The hawk is snarky and annoying, but he's Declan's only hope for survival.

Alpha Declan needs a pack. Solitary Killian doesn't need anyone. The two form a partnership, based on hunting and their unacknowledged mutual loneliness. The relationship quickly deepens into something stronger, maybe something lasting.

Then Declan gets the chance to regain control of the wolves. Will he return to the pack he lost, and give up the love he's just found?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Oct 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781772335309

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Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2015 J.J. Collins

ISBN: 978-1-77233-530-9

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Jessica Ruth

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To the ladies of SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS—Savanna, Rebecca, Serena and Solara—where stories like this one come to life

LOST AND FOUND

J.J. Collins

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

The smell of hot fresh blood got Declan up and moving again. He took a step and bit his lip against a whine of pain. He needed meat. If he had to steal it, what the fuck. Given his injuries, there was no telling when he’d be able to hunt on his own again.

Following the lure of blood, the battered wolf staggered to the edge of the forest. Something must have made a kill in that field out there. Declan swept his fuzzy glare across the open meadow but couldn’t see a goddamn thing.

Then a small head dominated by huge bright eyes and a hooked yellow beak popped up above the tips of the tall grass. Declan froze. His muscles screamed a protest at his order not to shiver. The deep bite on his haunch began to bleed again.

After what seemed like centuries to Declan’s agonized muscles, the hawk dipped its head back below the grass. The shudders of the stalks hinted at violence within, a sharp beak and razor talons ripping something apart. Saliva frothed with blood dripped from Declan’s jaws. He needed that kill badly, far more than any stupid bird.

He burst from the forest in a limping charge toward where he’d seen the hawk’s head appear. Halfway there the bird itself suddenly erupted from the grass with a gutted rabbit in its claws. The rabbit’s weight battled the hawk’s efforts to bear it aloft. Declan zeroed in on the bloody prize and leaped. At the last second the hawk abandoned its catch and zoomed with empty claws into the air and safety.

Declan caught the rabbit in his jaws before it hit the ground. He gulped down still-warm flesh and felt renewed energy surge through his throbbing body. When only shreds were left on the bones, he took the chance and willed himself to shift.

His ripped and bitten flesh resisted rearrangement. He gnashed his jaws against its vehement protests. In the end his howl burst free. It ended as a human scream. He fell to his knees and elbows and panted hard into the dirt.

This was a minor improvement, at least. His nerves still shot blistering pain up and down his limbs, but the shift had sealed the worst of his wounds. Most of the bleeding had slowed to an annoying seep. Declan shoved himself upright and succeeded in gaining his feet on his second attempt. So far, so good. He looked around.

Gods of the hunt, where the hell was he? The woods, now denied him, sat at his back. Nothing but grass met his eyes in all other directions. He’d thought his home forest was huge, but this dwarfed it. How far had they chased him? How far had he fled?

Screw it. Stick to basics. Find a place to hide. Get a good night’s sleep. Find water. Find more food. Meat if he could swing it, though he could survive on berries and roots if he had to. Let his injuries heal. Then march back onto pack territory and kill that bastard Seth. The beta had won nothing but the promise of Declan’s fangs in his throat.

He turned toward the woods, straight into a fist that smashed into his chin. Declan hit the ground with a jarring thud. The world, so briefly back in focus, started spinning again.

Excuse me, a sharp voice said from above him, but that was my dinner.

Chapter Two

Those sorry sons of dogs. Hadn’t stealing his pack and driving him off been enough? With a