Blood Mate Read online

  Blood Mate

  High House Canis #2

  Riley Storm

  Blood Mate

  Copyright© 2019 Riley Storm

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, without written permission from the author. The sole exception is for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

  Edited by Annie Jenkinson, Just Copyeditors

  Cover Designs by Kasmit Covers

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

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  8

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  10

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  Other Books by Riley Storm

  About the Author

  1

  “Tell me this isn’t a trap.”

  Lucien spared him a glance. “Now Chief, why would you ask me to do something like that? You know I’m not big on promises.”

  Chief frowned unhappily. He didn’t like that tone. “You certainly seemed confident about it back at the farm. Back when you convinced me to come along.”

  The leader of their welcome party smiled. “Of course I did. How else do you think I was going to get you to come out here?”

  “I don’t know. Sell me on the weather and the scenic views?” Chief muttered sarcastically, brushing his face clear of water. It didn’t matter, because more was constantly splattering down on him.

  They crouched in the wet undergrowth as a spring rainstorm raged overhead. There was little in the way of thunder or lightning, but the skies were making up for that with thick, juicy raindrops that had started falling an hour ago and hadn’t let up since. The storm had settled over the little town of Plymouth Falls and the outlying areas such as where the wolf shifters waited, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

  Neither are we, Chief thought, shifting back and forth to keep himself loose as possible. They had been waiting in the bushes off the side of the only close road for forty-minutes. Everyone was soaked to the bone by now and thoroughly miserable, but they weren’t complaining.

  Not much, at least.

  “Now, now, Chief,” Lucien said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “You know as well as I do, that we had to come, even it was a trap. We had no choice but to believe it was for real.”

  He nodded glumly. “I know. Trust me, I know. But listen man, I’m getting old. My joints creak. I’m pretty sure I have arthritis. Sitting out here in the cold and damp like this, I’m going to catch a cold. Tell me, are you going to bring me chicken noodle soup to feel better once we get back?”

  Lucien snorted softly. “Not on your life. Find a woman to do that for you.”

  Chief soured, looking up through the brush at the road, trying to let the last comment roll off him.

  “Shit, I’m sorry Chief. That was uncalled for.” Lucien’s hand returned to his shoulde,r giving it a gentler, more apologetic squeeze this time.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly. “I don’t.”

  Lucien stiffened, like he was about to say something, but then didn’t. Chief was glad. The last thing he wanted was to have a conversation about it out here where they were waiting.

  The thing that bothered him, was the truth of it all. Chief was old, at least compared to most of the shifters he associated with. In his mid-forties, he wasn’t particularly old, and could expect to keep up with the pack for another three decades or so before old age began to catch up with him. Benefits of being a wolf shifter, he supposed.

  Of course, an elongated lifespan wasn’t anything to brag about if you spent it alone. Wolves were all about the pack, and all about their mates. Chief had one, but never the other. He wanted to, but—

  “Anyone hear that?” one of the other members of their party asked.

  Chief’s head came up as he heard what Linden was referring to. The sound of an internal combustion engine as it revved louder, bringing the vehicle and its occupants closer to the waiting shifters.

  “Sounds like a trap,” Chief muttered.

  “Maybe, but we have to check it out anyway,” Lucien reminded him, and by extension the rest of the shifters. “If it isn’t, we need all the help we can get.”

  Chief nodded. It was true. In the six weeks since their pack of rebellious wolf shifters had moved out of the city to their secret farm house, they had done little but consolidate their numbers. Any overt action against the Tyrant-King and the rest of House Canis that they were rebelling against had been firmly and unarguably put on the back burner.

  This was the closest they had come since. Word had reached them that a handful of shifters inside Moonshadow Manor, the ancestral home of the wolf shifters of House canis, were ready to flee, to take their chances at making a run for it.

  “What are the odds they make it?” he asked. “Assuming this isn’t a trap and the Tyrant-King isn’t about to jump out of the bushes behind Linden there and say ‘boo!’.” He grinned as the named shifter started to look over his shoulder before catching himself and glaring.

  “Slim,” Lucien admitted. “But that’s why we’re here. To help them escape any pursuit they picked up when fleeing the Manor. We don’t know their preparations. Maybe they bribed a member of the Guard to let them through.”

  Chief thought that unlikely. Most of the Wolf Guard who remained were fanatically loyal to the Tyrant-King, and unlikely to let themselves be bribed. They had locked down the acres of land surrounding the Manor like a fortress, not letting anyone in or our without express orders from their King.

  If, and Chief believed it to be a big if, the shifters they were here to meet even made it off the property, there was no chance they wouldn’t be pursued when they met up with he and his team. Which is why a full eight of them waited in the bushes, nearly a third of their entire strength, committed to one operation. If things went south…

  “Relax,” Lucien assured him as the car came closer. “We’re ready for anything.”

  Chief didn’t have time to protest, because just then the first vehicle crested the nearby hill, its headlights bouncing wildly in the dim early-evening light that was making its way through the light gray clouds. Moments later another vehicle came following it, the two colliding in a screech of metal as the pursuer tried to spin out the lead SUV.

  “Everyone ready,” Lucien hissed, and the shifters came alive. This was where they had agreed to meet. A particularly deep little ravine that hid any occupants—metal or flesh alike—from being seen by anyone around them. If they needed to shift into their other forms, nobody would see them here.

  The escaping vehicle, a gray SUV, bounced again as the driver took it down the shoulder of the road and then back up again as they closed on the rebels position.

  “Almost.”

  A third vehicle careened over the top of the hill and descended into the ravine, accelerating madly to catch up. Chief noted it was already scratched and scraped. Clearly the chase had been close for some time now.

  The fleeing shifters slammed on the brakes as they reached the predetermined area and a trio of them jumped out.

  “Over here!” Lucien barked, standing up and waving, his head and arm visible above the brush.

  The three arrowed in on the sound of his voice as one. Behind them, the gray SUV and its white companion bounced off the road and tried to run the shifters down, but the forty or so feet of cleared land wasn’t smooth. The first ran into a tree trunk hidden by a bush, and the second hit a huge hole and blew out an entire axle.

  Chief tensed as shifters piled out of both vehicles almost immediately, keeping up the pursuit. He counted ten in total. Ten against the eight rebels. It would be close. Though if the fleeing trio jumped in, they should win. After all, it didn’t look like any of the loyalists had noticed Lucien yet, not since he’d ducked back down.

  “Ready,” Lucien said, and the rebels bounced slightly, limbering up as the distance closed in a flash, the shifters moving faster than any human to close the gap.

  “Now!”

  Chief was launching himself forward before Lucien was finished shouting, his shoulder spearing an unsuspecting shifter in the stomach. The man grunted in surprise, his arms and legs flying forward for a moment before the momentum change caught up with them and nearly snapped them as they flew back with the rest of his body.

  All around him there were thuds, cries of pain and surprise as the two sides met with thunderous impact. None of the loyalists had been expecting the attack, but they were all highly trained, and most o
f them reacted with reflexes that would have left a human slackjawed with shock.

  Throwing himself to the side, Chief narrowly avoided a punch from one of the two attackers that hadn’t gone down in the initial surprise assault. He had to back up quickly as the man came on in a flurry of blows designed to keep him off balance.

  Another shape hit him from the side as Lucien took the man to the ground, slamming both hands into his face. Chief noted the attack. Ever since his mate had been threatened by the loyalists, Lucien had lost much of his compunction for hurting them. He was one of their fiercest fighters now as he realized not only his strength, but also his dedication to the cause.

  Chief rushed forward, ripping a shifter he didn’t recognize off the back of one of his men, sending him tumbling deeper into the bush, where his head hit a tree with a solid thwack.

  The battle raged around him. The rebels, with the advantage of surprise, seemed to be winning. Chief looked around, trying to spot the trio they’d come to rescue. If those jerks are just going to let us fight it out for them, then I—

  The thought died as the three came back out of the bush and engaged in the fight. But his expression changed when he saw their first target. Linden. One of his men.

  “Trap!” he bellowed. “It’s a trap!”

  The others echoed his call as they fought on, but the odds had swiftly turned against them. The rebels were now outnumbered by nearly half a dozen, though several from both sides were down and unconscious. Slowly but surely the loyalists backed the remaining handful into a circle. Not one of them was unbloodied by that point.

  “I sure hope your backup plan had something like this in mind,” Chief muttered as Lucien appeared on his left, bleeding heavily from a cut above his right eye.

  “Something like this,” Lucien agreed. “Delay them for a moment, will you?”

  “That’s enough. Stop this!” a voice barked as one of the loyalists stepped forward. A fierce-looking man with a razor-sharp military crew cut, and a smile that was more leer than grin, gestured at the rebels who remained on their feet. “Surrender now, and no more of you shall be harmed.”

  “Masterful plan,” Chief drawled. He’d always been the talker of the group. “I take it this was your idea?”

  Twin orbs, steely in nature, focused on him, before the lips parted in a toothy smile that wasn’t particularly friendly. “Yes. Yes it was. And you idiots fell for it completely.”

  Chief tapped his jaw. “Did we?”

  The shifter—Chief didn’t recognize him, which meant the Tyrant-King must have brought him in from another location recently—smiled broadly and sketched a mock bow. “Yes, you did. Thank you for proving our King right in appointing me as his Knight.”

  Mutters of anger went up through the rebels. The position of Knight in the House was one of great honor. The right hand of the King or Queen, the Knight was the heir to the throne upon death or retirement. That wasn’t where their anger came from, however unfit for the position he may be.

  The rebels were angry because the true Knight of House Canis was their leader, Logan Canis, and it irked them to know the Tyrant-King had already filled the position with this usurper.

  “That’s good enough, Chief,” Lucien muttered just loud enough for the false Knight to hear.

  “What? What’s good enough?”

  “His stalling job,” Lucien said cheerfully. “You see, we’ve moved a little too far away from our original position. They had to move to find a better sightline.”

  “What? Who had to move? What are you talking about?”

  The answer became evident a moment later as two of the loyalists when down, roaring in pain. A moment later, two more spun around as slugs impacted upon them. A fifth was hit in the back and sprawled forward between Lucien and Chief, who both stepped away as the skin on his back turned black and writhed.

  “Some backup plan,” Chief muttered, but he was already hauling ass.

  The rebels picked up their wounded and disappeared back into the forest. A moment later two more rebels appeared, both of them with sighted rifles pulled into their shoulders, backing up slowly as they covered the escape.

  “This isn’t going to go over well with anyone,” Chief muttered as they reached their vehicles, still hidden on a nearby service road. “That’s a major escalation.”

  Lucien shot him a glare as they hopped in the front seat of a black pickup together. “Would you rather I let them take us all in?” he snapped.

  “Of course not. But uranium weapons? Nobody has resorted to that yet. Now you’ve opened a can of worms.”

  “I know,” Lucien hissed, obviously angry at himself. “But I had no choice. Logan and I both agreed that we couldn’t risk any more of our strength if it was a trap.”

  Chief nodded as the truck rumbled to life. He understood. But uranium-filled bullets were a brutal way to escalate the civil war raging between various factions of House Canis. The radiation the uranium contained played hell with shifter DNA, breaking it apart at a cellular level and killing it off.

  Hence the blackened, dead flesh on the shifter that had gone face-first in the dirt near them. One bullet wasn’t enough to kill unless it was a headshot, but the five or so shifters who had been hit would be in considerable pain and agony for several days.

  “Besides,” Lucien growled. “They started this.”

  Chief then remembered that Lucien had been stabbed with a uranium-tipped dagger almost two months ago, and had nearly bled out seeking help. He would have no sympathy for the loyalists.

  “Right.”

  The radio crackled to life and Lucien grabbed it as they headed down the service road, the other truck following behind.

  “It was a trap,” he said angrily. “Had to go with the backup plan.”

  “Shit.” Logan’s voice came over the other side. “That’s no good. Everyone make it out?”

  Chief nodded. He’d done a count as they ran. Everyone had made it out, though some of them would require a few days to heal up. Linden in particular had had a rough go of it.

  “Yeah, we’re all on our way home, once we’ve made sure we aren’t being followed,” Lucien said into the black radio speaker.

  “Good.” There was a pause, a crackle of static. “Chief there with you?”

  Chief sat up straighter. Why was Logan asking for him?

  “Yes,” Lucien said slowly, also confused. “He’s right here next to me.”

  “Good,” Logan snapped. “Chief. Get your ass back here on the double. I’m tired of dealing with your problem for you.”

  Chief’s eyebrows were practically merging with his hairline by this point. Lucien gave an affirmative and the radio went silent. Slowly he lifted his gaze to Lucien.

  “What the hell is he talking about?”

  2

  It was with more than a bit of trepidation that Chief watched the farmhouse grow in the distance.

  After they had fled the trap, the two trucks had taken separate, circuitous routes back to their base of operations to ensure they weren’t followed. The long drive through countryside and outskirts of town had ground away at his nerves until there was practically nothing left. Chief was on edge, raw and exposed.

  Logan hadn’t contacted them, again, and if he wasn’t willing to tell Chief what was going on the first time, it was unlikely he’d be willing to do so at all. This was something he had to handle in person. Whatever it was.

  “I still don’t know what problem of mine he could be talking about,” Chief muttered. “I don’t have any problems. Not that would affect him, at least,” he added to stave off any smart-assed remarks from the other occupants of the truck. “He sounded serious too, didn’t he?”

  Lucien nodded. “Yeah. He knows that this mission wasn’t easy on the nerves. He wouldn’t mess with you as a prank. Not right now.”

  “That’s what scares me,” Chief admitted. “I have literally no idea what this could be about. I don’t have anything I’ve been hiding that could have exploded in his face while I’m gone.”

  The others just shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. They were tired of hearing him try to puzzle it out, but Chief didn’t really care. He was beyond confused at this point.

  Lucien headed straight for the big ranch-style house that served as their headquarters, parking next to one of the other trucks around the side, out of sight of the driveway. The others piled out and headed for one of the barns, interested in rest and food, leaving Chief alone to face the issue himself.