Wolf Blood: Outcast Pack, #2

By TJ Nichols

River Yates always thought his grandmother's tales about shifters and witches living among them to be just stories. Until his ex, Drew Preston, showed up at his door naked and bloodied and in need of help.

After being attacked by wolves determined to tear apart the fledgling Outcast Pack, Drew did the only thing he could: shift and run. The nearest place he might find refuge is River's house. But his ex is human, and when River accused him of cheating, he ripped out Drew's heart.

While River wasn't wrong about Drew keeping secrets, how could he tell a human what he is?

When a hunter arrives to kill the shifters that have been making trouble, River is forced to confront the truth not only about Drew but also his own family. Once again, he'll be picking up weapons and facing off against his grandmother, but this time, it isn't a training exercise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TJ Nichols
• Release date: Mar 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224784684

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Drew knew going for after-work drinks was a bad idea even as he’d agreed, but he’d been unable to say no. He knew his work colleagues would opt for the bar that was on the wrong side of the street. It was a great bar, one he usually loved going to, but with tensions rising between some of the traditional wolf packs and those who chose to run with the unofficial Outcast Pack, crossing the road would be seen as an act of aggression as he'd technically be crossing into pack territory.

Yet, he didn’t want to go home to his empty bed. He didn’t want to look at the box of River’s things that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to return and that River hadn’t collected. Nor did he want to go out and find someone to numb the pain. He’d gone out a few times but each time had failed to do much more than have a drink, watch others be happy, and feel worse about lying to River.

Even if he told him the truth, would that change anything, or was it far too late to fix what they’d had?

There were times when being a wolf shifter sucked. And this was definitely one of them.

He glanced over his shoulder as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it on top of the dumpster. His tie and shirt followed. He lifted his head, listening, but couldn’t tell if it was the men’s footsteps growing closer or his own rapid heartbeat.

As soon as he’d stepped outside the bar for a smoke, the three men had been on him. He smelled them when he’d first walked into the bar and knew then that he was fucked. And not in a fun way.

He ran his tongue over his split lip. His jaw was hot from the punch that had connected.

Even though he’d been with a work friend, a human, it hadn’t been enough. The three wolves had known his name and called it out like they were old friends wanting to catch up. Instead of dragging his work mates into a wolf mess, Drew had left the limited safety that being around humans provided.

Less than thirty seconds later, he was down the nearby alley fighting for his life and the chance to run. He ran faster on four feet than two. Which was why he was stripping next to a dumpster and leaving his favorite suit in a crumpled mess. He tossed his trousers, briefs, socks, and shoes onto the pile, hoping that he’d be back for them later—and that they’d be waiting for him—and if he didn’t come back to get them, someone would report him missing when he didn’t show up on Monday, and the cops would be searching for a body.

There he is, a man shouted.

Drew didn’t turn to look. He didn’t need to look to know he was out of time.

He pulled up the heat that proceeded a shift. It was lightning up his spine and through his veins. A shift this fast was never pleasant. His skin burned from the inside, and he might have yelped as his claws grew.

He was already moving before his fur had finished sprouting. There was no time to orientate himself to his new eye level or to adjust to running on four feet. He took off like death was chasing him with its scythe ready to be dipped in wolf blood.

His first few steps were uneven as his body begged for time that he didn’t have. The men chasing him would kill him if they caught him.

He didn’t even know who they were or what pack they belonged to, only that he’d never forget their faces or their scents.

Goddamn pack drama. He’d left Sydney to avoid his own pack problems only to become mixed up in something much worse than being kicked out for being gay. Too many wolf packs were still living in the Dark Ages, literally following rules that had been made back when they were being hunted by humans. Now they were hunting each other.

Some wolves needed a fight to feel alive.

He pushed hard off the ground and cleared a fence, landing hard enough that he was sure his eyeballs rattled in their sockets and his brain ricocheted off the inside of his skull. He shook off the jolt and lingering pain, knowing he couldn’t indulge or show weakness.

It was only with the fence between him and his attackers that he turned to glance back.

Two men stood on the other side of the fence, lips pulled back in snarls, eyes flashing green in the streetlights. Their wolves were close to the surface, but they hadn’t shifted yet.

He returned their growl, refusing to be seen as an easy target because he was a voluntary outcast.

A noise to his left made his ear twitch.

Two men… Where was the third?

He received his answer seconds later as a brown wolf slammed into his flank and send him skidding along the rough asphalt and broken glass. The wolf attacked before Drew could get his feet beneath him to run again. He went straight for Drew’s throat, not bothering to demand submission but going for the kill. And every second Drew wasted fighting gave the other two men the chance to shift and join in.

If that happened, he was dead.

Claws raked at his belly. Teeth clashed, and Drew tasted blood—probably his own.

He scratched and snapped and scrabbled, determined to shove this wolf off him so he could flee. The wolf attacking him fought like a wolf, the way they learned when they first started shifting. But Drew wasn’t just a wolf; he was a man most of the time. That should have been an advantage, except he’d never learned to fight as a man, even though River had tried to teach him on several occasions.

Why hadn’t he taken the opportunity?

Saliva dripped onto him as the wolf snarled. They tussled, Drew trying to wriggle free but failing.

Why the fuck are you doing this?

But even if he could speak to the wolf, there was nothing human in the gleam of the wolf’s eyes. Fear kicked through Drew’s blood, and he hated it because it would spur the attacking wolf on.

River had once joked, after Drew had failed even the most basic of lessons, that a finger in the eye will stop most attackers. He probably hadn’t been joking given that he had done some form of martial arts since he was a kid. Drew figured a claw to the eye should have much the same effect.

Even though his limbs bent differently as a wolf than when he was human, and the other wolf was trying to get a killing bite on his throat, Drew got a paw on the other wolf’s face. He couldn’t get what had been his hands into position—they were too busy trying to keep the jaws from clamping onto his throat—but he clawed at the wolf’s face, searching for the juicy target.

The wolf snapped at his foot, but Drew found what he wanted, then flexed and pressed as hard as he could.

Something popped. The brown wolf leaped back with a yelp. Clear fluid and dark blood dripped over his snout.

Momentarily free, Drew didn’t stop and assess the damage or mutter an apology if he’d ruined the eye. He rolled up onto four feet and ran. He didn’t know where he was running to, only that he couldn’t stop to think it through—which meant he might be heading in the wrong direction. And he was in the middle of Melbourne on a Friday night, so his odds of being seen while a wolf went up.

Shit.

He couldn’t run to the train station and shift back to human, hoping to lose himself in the crowd; he’d be naked, and he’d left his wallet and phone tucked behind the dumpster, hoping they’d be safe until he was able to return.

Should he circle back? No. There would no doubt be someone waiting for him to do that. The wolves following would still be at his back, and then he’d be trapped. All he could do was put as much distance between them and him as possible and hope they lost his trail.

Home was too far, and he doubted it would be safe either. If he was the target for tonight, they’d be waiting.

This was the dumb game the other packs had been playing since they’d stood on the other side of the fence at Kyle’s place and tried to start a war.

And they were still trying. Only now, they were targeting an outcast while he was on his own.

He flung himself around the corner and ripped down the alleyway, knowing that he had to keep moving even if he didn’t know where he was going. But he couldn’t keep this up all night. Already his ribs were heaving, and he was bleeding—or at least there was blood on his fur and his stomach felt hot, like the skin had been scratched open.

He needed a plan, and he couldn’t think while being chased.

At the end of the alley was a busy, well-lit street. His steps slowed even though his heart urged him to move faster. He didn’t want to be the wolf who got a Coven dressing down for being obvious in the middle of a city not known for having wild wolves nearby…or at all. Wolves were bigger than a large dog and while some people might think he was a dog at first glance, too many would look twice, or worse, record him bolting across the street.