Hellhound's Mate: Shadow Cities Shifters, #6

By Mina Carter

All he can remember is fury and blood... Until her.

 

They need to send a wolf to the choosing, but there's no way Archer Davis will serve up his little brother up on a silver platter to some decrepit old she-wolf. But someone must go, or, by pack law, they all die...

 

Only Archer is crazy enough to walk into the Mistress's den and pretend to be a wolf. 

 

But then something goes wrong, and all he knows is the fury that inhabits his skin. A fury that is only eased by the female whose voice and scent soothes the beast inside him. Now if he can just convince her to come closer, maybe he can make her his, and tame the darkness in his blood….

 

She's managed to avoid choosing a mate. Until now...

 

Tradition dictates the alpha of the city takes a partner during the annual choosing, and after years of evasion, Reena's time is running out. When a handsome alpha asks her for a dance, unaware that she's the Mistress of the City,  all bets are off... 

 

But her mystery alpha proves more than a pretty face. An alpha but not a wolf, he's seen as 'less' in Lycan society and the Council of Alphas use his presence in her bed to remove her from power...

 

Can Reena face down the council, a werewolf pack without an alpha, and a hot as hell alpha who is more than a wolf intent on making her his as soon as possible...

 

NB: Previously published as Mistress of Wolves and contains the novellas: Mistress of the City, Tamed by the Mistress, Chosen by the Alpha, The Mistress and the Hellhound & The Mistress takes a Mate. If you have previously purchased these titles, then please do not purchase this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mina Carter
• Release date: Dec 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215999059

Mina Carter

Mina Carter was born and raised in Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England). After a slew of careers ranging from logistics to land-surveying she can now be found in the wilds of Leicestershire with her husband, daughter and a cat who moved in and never left. Suffering the curse of eternal curiosity, Mina never tires of learning new skills which has led to Aromatherapy, Corsetry, Chain-maille making, Welding, Canoeing, Shooting, and pole-dancing to name but a few. A full-time author and cover artist, Mina can usually be found hunched over a keyboard or graphics tablet, frantically trying to get the images and words in her head out and onto the screen before they drive her mad. She's addicted to coffee and Dairy-lea cheese triangles.

Book preview

Hellhound’s Mate

HELLHOUND’S MATE

MINA CARTER

NEW YORK TIMES & USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

Copyright © 2016 by Mina Carter

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

Mistress of Wolves

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Tamed by the Mistress

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The Mistress and the Hellhound

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The Mistress takes a Mate

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

About the Author

MISTRESS OF WOLVES

CHAPTER 1

"B ut, Mom, do I have to go to the ball?"

Archer Davis stopped mid-stride as his little brother’s voice filtered through the half-open bedroom door and into the corridor. Seth was sixteen and a total teenager. That he was conversing in full sentences was new, but the petulant tone wasn’t. On an average day, Seth could make even a grunt sound like a whine. Now though, he just sounded scared—very scared—which sent all of Archer’s protective instincts into overdrive. Without another thought, he barged through the door.

What ball?

His mom and brother jumped, turning to look at him. He bit back a shiver at the twin set of amber eyes. Werewolf eyes. It still freaked him the hell out to see them. His mom had married a wolf, his stepdad, when he was seven years old, and Seth had been born a Were. Call him speciesist, but he still preferred to see his mom’s eyes their original—human—brown.

Ignoring it, he focused on his mom. Of the two, she was more likely to tell him what was going on. Ball? he prompted.

The Midwinter Choosing, Seth answered, his whole manner flustered and he yanked at the suit he wore. It was a little too big for him, evidently borrowed from his father. Although they were the same height, thanks to Seth’s recent growth spurt, he had yet to fill out in the shoulders so the jacket hung loose on him.

Wait…what? The annual fuckfest for the mistress? Although the rest of his family was Were, Archer wasn’t a wolf, but living in the pack house since he’d been discharged from the army had left him with a good idea of furry politics.

Archer! his mother snapped, reaching out to smooth Seth’s jacket straight. It’s not a…a—

Fuckfest, Seth grunted, grinning despite the fear that had leeched his skin. Like most immature teenagers, dirty words still made him snigger.

No, no! It’s an honor for an offering to be chosen, she insisted, fussing over Seth again. And as a pack, we have to send an offering or we’ll be in default. Seth’s the only unmated male we have. And he’s an adult.

Her cheeks turned scarlet as she tried to avoid mentioning sex, but the elephant crowded into the room anyway. The Midwinter Choosing was all about sex, and everyone knew it. It was when the mistress, the most powerful werewolf in the city and overlord of all the packs, chose a bedmate for the night. A young, handsome lycan to fuck while the moon was high.

Archer snorted to himself, and the poor fuckers were grateful for the chance at her. He’d never met the mistress, but since werewolves gained power as they aged, she was no doubt some dried up old harridan who needed protocol to entice a guy into her bed.

His mood soured as he looked at Seth, all tarted up like he was about to head to senior prom. It would be so easy to slip into that delusion, but it would be a lie, and Archer detested lies. His little brother was about to be served up like the sacrificial lamb, and as the reality set in, he looked as scared as fuck about it.

Have you forgotten Seth is only sixteen? Archer asked, his voice deceptively calm. Folding his arms over his chest, he ignored the fact that his shirt pulled at the shoulders. He needed to go shopping, all his tops were too tight since he’d been stateside and hitting the weights hard. He’s not an adult.

Their mother pursed her lips.

Maybe not for a human, but for a wolf, he’s been an adult for months. Ever since he mastered his part shift. At that, she beamed with pride. Part-shifting was something Archer knew the furries prized. It meant Seth would be an alpha like his father.

Really. Archer’s voice was flat and rang with the disapproval he didn’t attempt to hide. Well, you have fun tonight, he said and turned to leave the room.

What was it to him if the kid’s parents threw him to the wolves? Or, in this case, wolf. One wolf. The Mistress of the City.

Reena Leroy. The most powerful werewolf in the city, she ruled from her court over on Eastside. From stories Archer overheard, whispered when they thought he, the human, wasn’t listening, she was a cast iron bitch who’d killed her own father to attain her position.

He stomped down the corridor to his own room and slammed the door behind him. Why did he care that Seth—still a child—would be shown off like a piece of meat in front of a woman no doubt old enough to be his grandmother? Archer had never been to court, so he had no idea what the woman looked like, but even he knew wolves gained power as they aged.

How old would a female wolf more powerful than the rest have to be? Seth might have mastered his part-shift, but he was no match for a woman like that. She’d chew him up and spit him out. The whole idea of men…hell anyone…paraded about for one person to pick from for sexual services turned his stomach. It was disgusting, archaic and he wanted nothing to do with such a society. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luxury.

Archer stood in front of his open wardrobe, anger and worry vying for dominance in his gut. For the first time in his life, he wished he’d taken up his mother’s offer to turn him. He’d always refused because his military career depended on him remaining human. Wolves, while not banned from the services, were not exactly treated like equals…

His gaze fell on his good suit and a slow smile crawled over his lips.

But he wasn’t in the army anymore.

He didn’t need to be human anymore.

And today was a good day to put an uppity female wolf in her place.

Two hours later, Archer slid his car to a stop outside the court building. Cutting the engine, he levered himself out of the low vehicle and handed his keys to the valet. The guy, a wolf by the amber eyes, flicked a glance at him.

Pack? he demanded, his expression a little suspicious.

Archer gave him a scowl to look at. Griffin. What of it?

The smaller man’s eyes widened, just a touch, before he bowed his head. Well met, Alpha. Through the double doors and turn right, the Master of Ceremonies is waiting to welcome you.

Archer nodded, striding toward the building in front of him. That had been easier than he’d thought. In fact, he’d expected to fall at the first hurdle. Expected alarms to blare as soon as he set foot in court, warning all the little wolfies that they had—shock, horror—a human in their midst. Well, perhaps human wasn’t accurate. But the valet had barely looked at him after Archer growled. Being an asshole got him mistaken for an alpha wolf. Go figure.

Surreptitiously he rubbed the tiny flesh colored bandage between his thumb and forefinger. He’d covered all his bases. He told his mom and the driver of the arranged limo that he’d make sure Seth got to court on time and despite his lycan heritage, Seth had been easy to sneak up on. When you lived with wolves, it was easy to figure out how to trick one into a part shift, then knock him out. He’d used Seth’s claw, puncturing the skin just enough to infect himself with the lycanthrope virus.

After that, it was a walk in the park. Seth was bundled up nice and neat in his own closet back home, the locked door no barrier when he woke, and Archer had driven himself here without incident. He didn’t have to worry about his mom and her husband turning up. His stepfather was ailing, ill health meaning only his brother’s presence was expected at the choosing.

Archer rolled his shoulders, settling his jacket more comfortably as he walked through the double doors. Court was not at all what he’d expected. The word conjured images of historical buildings and stately elegance, but