Dire Desires

outlaw pack that forms from the New York pack is now taking in rogue wolves from other packs to join their cause. They believed that if their king Linus sold out the Dires to the weretrappers, the Weres would be left alone. They are angry wolves, not very organized, and more intent on killing than following the old ways, which makes them quite dangerous. They like killing humans and have taken to selling their own kind to the weretrappers in exchange for protection. Some of them will work as bodyguards for both the witches and weretrappers.

weretrappers: A paramilitary group of humans intent on destroying Dires and Weres, as well as using Weres for their own nefarious purposes. Their purpose had evolved over the years. At first, they were formed during Viking times; they were a tight-knit group intent on keeping humans safe from wolves. During the current century, they began to realize the power they could have if they were able to harness the power of the Weres. They capture Weres and experiment with ways to keep them under their control. They also create a pact with the witches, realizing they will need more supernatural help in order to gain domination over humans. Their goal is ultimate power and world domination, and they’ve begun to experiment with the dark arts (aka black magic).

witches: Witches live in covens and stay among their own kind. Widely regarded with suspicion and hatred by the rest of the supernatural world, many have started allying themselves with the weretrappers for security, which will allow their race to survive.

Prologue

Two days earlier

When she dragged in with the old blanket draped over her naked shoulders, she knew she still wore the wildness in her eyes like the chill of a winter night.

She hated daytime the most. The other patients did as well, avoided the sun, hated to be pulled into the fresh air as if they were horses to be exercised in captivity. She wanted the air and exercise, no doubt, but unfettered.

She wanted the moon. The small pad of paper she’d stolen during her last therapy appointment would be in its hiding spot, showing the beginnings of many crude drawings of the orb.

In her mind’s eye, it was perfect, beautiful.

She wouldn’t talk about it in the sessions with the man with the glasses. For five years, others had tried and failed. He would fail as well, because Gillian had stopped listening, stopped knowing what she once was.

A daughter. Once loved, until something went wrong. She began to talk about wolves, to run in the woods alone. Naked.

That was, apparently, unacceptable. Signaled illness.

Since she continued to escape, that meant the illness was getting worse, not better. She felt it too. But she always came back voluntarily because there was no other place for her. And still, something inside her compelled her to look for others whenever the moon grew heavy—and lately, when it didn’t. The past two months had been a roller coaster of emotions. This time, she knew the wildness was too much for her—it threatened to overwhelm her, suck her into its madness, never, ever to let go. Maybe one day she’d allow herself to go all the way in, see that it was for the best.

But today she returned. Last night she’d run and then she’d lain under the stars and she’d dreamed. The dreams were of another time and place—distant, beautiful—and she felt stately and wise despite the way the men looked at her when she strode in.

They shoved her to the ground unceremoniously. Checked her for weapons.

I am a weapon, the rustling in her ears told her. But the men who held her down didn’t know that, and she knew better than to tell them.

After she felt the initial prick of the needle, she waited for the familiar poison to work itself through her body. Her muscles relaxed. The rustling in her ears stopped.

But in her dreams, she ran.

Chapter 1

Vice swore he heard something slam to the ground in the woods outside the Dire house right after four in the morning. He’d been out running the woods and had just showered and prepared a snack fit for a king, but his curious Brother Wolf wouldn’t not let him check it out. And since he was the only one either not on his honeymoon or in a coma, he went. Left the house naked and shifted the second his foot touched grass.

The nighttime air was cool and soothing. For an hour, he ran through the brush and remnants of snow, searching for whatever it was that made the noise.

He ended up at the tree he thought of as Eydis’s, since he was always drawn to it when that specific Elder called for him. Vice listened when called, because he was compelled to do so.

Still, he couldn’t control what he said in front of any of them, but hey, he was immortal, so what could they really do—kill him? That would be a fucking relief.

The tree was a massive, thousand-year-old oak that had been split straight down the middle by lightning. Like the Dires themselves, it had survived centuries, still standing healthy and straight.

The tree blossomed during springtime, stayed green until the worst of winter. Even barren, the tree stood out. It was magnificent.

Now it was entirely destroyed—one half lying on the ground, the other bent and broken—and he felt sick.

It would take something powerful to do that. Or something magical. He saw a hole in the ground close by, shaped as though something—or someone—had been thrown from the heavens.

He looked at the shimmering white glow that lined the empty space and sucked in a breath. There was no way that could’ve happened.

He wanted to call out her name, crawl into the hollow and wait for her. . . .

She hasn’t come looking for you. And she won’t.

With that last thought, he gave a howl, long and loud, the most mournful one he’d ever heard his wolf make. Not since Eydis was sacrificed and was picked to be an Elder.

He’d been sixteen when that happened.

Brother Wolf circled the tree, stared at it for hours, trying to think of a way to repair it. But there wasn’t one. Nothing could handle this kind of wrath and survive—no one could.

Except you.

And then something inside of him stirred that made the wolf break into a dead run toward the house.

Something he hadn’t felt for six months.

Rogue was awake and at his window, staring down at him. Vice howled with approval and relief, and he saw Rogue smile a little.

He shifted quickly and took the stairs two at a time, all the while trying to tamp down his emotions so they wouldn’t be too hard for Rogue to deal with. It wasn’t easy. He took a deep breath, then slammed the door open, raced to Rogue and hugged the crap out of him. “Dude, you’re really up.”

Rogue hugged him back, didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Vice was pretty sure he was crying. When they pulled away, Rogue wiped his cheeks. “You look good, wolf.”

“You don’t look half bad for what you’ve been through.” Indeed, Rogue’s chest still bore marks from the mare who’d held him in a supernatural coma for six months. She’d been under Seb’s spell—and Seb was a powerful witch who’d once been friends with the Dires. “You know Seb’s gone?”

“I heard. I knew what was happening around me. I just couldn’t do shit about it,” Rogue confirmed.

“Did you call Jinx?”

“Not yet. Just give me some time, all right?” Rogue said and Vice cocked his head and stared into the wolf’s