Crescent Kingdom (The Wolves of Crescent Creek, #1)

by Tessa Hale

Icy dread coursed through me as my wolf pushed to the surface. She wanted to be free, to run fast and far from Bastian Boudreaux, my so-called father. I should’ve listened to her.

“My daughter will not be a weakling. A submissive. She will be strong. Even if I have to scar every inch of her body to make her so.”

“My Little Wren, listen to the song inside you. As long as you hear your voice, you’ll always be able to come back to yourself.”

“Come on,” I said, my voice going gruff. “Let’s get some ice on that.” “I’m okay,” she argued instantly. “Really.” My wolf bristled. He was already on edge, wanting to rake his claws down the chest of the man who’d hurt his Little Warrior. His? Fuck. Was this a mating call? I’d felt them a time or two, the pull of attraction that meant someone could possibly be your mate. It wasn’t a guarantee, only a sign that you were compatible.

I reached for Wren’s elbow as she slid under the rope, trying to steady her. She stiffened instantly. I braced, waiting to feel the certainty, to see those images. But there was nothing. My wolf growled at the lack of it all. He wanted her to be his. And I sure as hell understood the disappointment.

Wren’s head lifted, revealing the full side of her face for the first time. I knew wounds. My brothers and I had received more than a few, so I knew how to recognize what had inflicted them. And this scar hadn’t been caused by shattered glass or some freak accident. It was from a blade. My wolf went rabid.

How could I have been so stupid? I knew better than anyone that letting your guard down for even a second could get you killed. Or, in this case, put you in the clutches of an overbearing wolf shifter who smelled like…fresh mint and pine. And, God, I wanted to roll around in it. Danger.

The knowledge had my skin bristling. I expected my wolf to lunge to the surface, dying to break free and run. Instead, I found she was…purring? Wolves didn’t purr. But that was the only way I could describe the sound emanating from her.

He was tall—so tall I had to look up, up, up to get to his face. And that face. It was devastatingly beautiful. Thick scruff covering an angular jaw. A nose with a hint of a bump that told me it had been broken before. Dark-brown hair. And eyes I wanted to drown in. They were the sort of light blue that could hold you captive.

“King’s a lot. I get it.” “King,” I echoed, rolling the sound of his name on my tongue. “Kingston. The owner of the gym. Been out of town working a job.” I stiffened. “He owns the gym?” Clyde nodded swiftly. “The gym and a security company. They work high-level stuff. So, he travels quite a bit. I man the shop when he’s gone.”

A deep loneliness settled in. The kind I rarely let take hold. But I couldn’t do anything to fight it off. Because I was alone. And, thanks to my father, I always would be.

My wolf snarled at the thought. He didn’t understand those human needs. He wanted to take her back to our territory and make sure she was safely ensconced within our borders. But he also wanted to claim her. That was new.

I knew what she wanted. What a part of me wanted, too. To know what it was like to lose myself to Kingston. To feel his fingers digging into my hips as he took me. To truly let go. But it was more than that. I craved the feeling of strong arms around me in a simple hug. To know I was safe. Cared for. Those were the more dangerous dreams. Because they meant trusting someone, and that was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

“Who are you? We aren’t open.” The man grinned, straight white teeth practically blinding me as amusement filled his expression. “I’m Puck. You must be Wren. Dina told me all about you. Well, minus that you’re fucking gorgeous. But I’m not surprised there. She always leaves out the important details.”

“Here you go.” I caught it easily and read the label. Over-the-counter. That was good. I never risked anything stronger because I couldn’t afford to have my reflexes dulled. The last time that’d happened, I almost ended up dead.

Wren lifted the glass and sniffed the contents before sending me a piercing look. “If you’re trying to drug me, I’ll cut off your nuts and feed them to you.” My lips twitched. “Violent little thing. I like it.” I set aside the cheese and took the glass from her, sipping the contents. I gagged. “Tastes like the inside of a gym locker, but it’s drug-free.”

Wren shifted on her stool. I could sense something in her, something she was shoving down. A yearning, maybe. “Sometimes, even the right people wear masks,” she muttered. King was right. Someone had hurt her. Broken her wings. And that sent a blaze of fury ripping through me, one that had me fighting back a shift as my wolf snarled at the thought.

Ender’s assassin’s gaze leveled on Wren. “Who the hell is this, and why is she hiding a blade in her belt?”

I could assess someone in a split second, but something about this male stalled me. Likely the fact that he was nearly six and a half feet of pure muscle. Inky designs peeked out from under the navy tee clinging to his broad chest. He had hair I was envious of—a deep brown with caramel undertones. The majority of his head was shaved, but it was longer on the top, pulled into a haphazard man bun. His amber eyes held the same glow as his hair.

The name Wren fit her. There was an earthy air to her that seemed to ground. But there was also a wild defiance to her.

Fuck. This was exactly why I should kill her right now. Our lives didn’t come with picket fences and two-point-five kids. Anyone linked to us was a risk—for them and for us.

I hadn’t noticed the man when I came downstairs, but I should’ve. He was incredibly handsome, though, in a way that said he didn’t want people to notice. He was leanly muscled and wearing a dark-blue flannel. Black-framed glasses hid enchanting gray eyes. As I focused, I scented wolf.

The man sent me a hesitant smile and something about it felt like a warm hug. Like arms being wrapped around me that I could sink into and forget all my problems. The backs of my eyes burned. Gods, I hadn’t felt that in years. Probably not, since I’d spent half a year in California and allowed myself the luxury of a single friend.

Something told me he hadn’t wanted to say that, but I still nodded. “Thanks again.” “No problem.” His gaze had already dropped. And losing sight of those stormy gray eyes felt like a vicious blow. Regardless, I just kept on moving. Fighting through untold pain wasn’t anything new.

Kingston let out a low growl. It was so quiet that human ears wouldn’t have been able to pick it up, but I did. And so did my wolf. She practically preened, loving the alpha vibes clogging the air.

I had to steel myself against them because even though I’d taught myself to fight and withstand others’ dominance, my animal half was a naturally submissive wolf. It came with the ability to take on others’ emotional pain. You couldn’t do that if you were also trying to dominate them.

And my wolf had been more at ease in the past twenty-four hours than over the past decade. Somehow, these men made her feel like part of a pack, even though we weren’t.

Just that simple thought sent a pang through me. And for the first time, I realized I wanted that. To belong. It might be far too risky for me to actually reach for it, but it didn’t stop me from wanting it with every fiber of my being.

Puck just chuckled and jogged over. He reminded me of a puppy. A too-hot-for-his-own-good puppy, but a puppy, nonetheless.

I could take care of myself. And that fact hadn’t come easily. I’d had to break myself in so many ways. Remake myself into someone who never cowered. It had taken years. But I’d gotten there.

Holy hell. I finally forced my gaze up to his face and locked eyes with him. Those icy blues were already on me. He’d seen me taking in every inch of the inked skin and hadn’t done a thing to stop me. My wolf let out that low purr again. She wanted to do more than look.

I tore my focus away from Kingston. I needed to get it together and prove that I could handle myself. That need was borne of almost a decade of being in a monster’s clutches. But more than that, it was for me.

My wolf pushed at my skin as I scented the air. He wanted out. Wanted to scent the little human whose aroma was equal parts addicting and wrong. He couldn’t put the pieces together, and neither could I.

“That girl? There’s no record of her existence…anywhere.”

I paced back and forth in my tiny apartment. I’d taken the world’s quickest shower in case I needed to run. That’s what I should do: run fast and far. But thinking about that had my heart clenching.

And I stashed those little nuggets of information away, holding them close. Things like the head enforcer’s login and password to the system housing the pack’s movements. My father collected wolves like trophies. His most prized possessions were those with the most unique gifts. Yet another reason it had been so important for me to hide my empathic gift from him. If he’d known about it, he would’ve bled me dry in a matter of months.

But fear still dug in its icy claws. I dropped the tablet to the floor and hugged my knees to my chest. I’d done so much to battle back the fear and equip myself in case Bastian and his men ever found me. But it wasn’t enough.

Because to have a prayer of escaping my father’s clutches, I’d need an army at my back. And despite my flickers of belonging in Crescent Creek, these people didn’t know me. Not really. I was still totally and completely alone.

“Or maybe they’ve lost their edge. They’ve been softening since meeting their mate,” I spat. Because that’s what happened when you let someone in to that degree. They owned you. Puck snorted this time. “Tell that to Cáel. I’m pretty sure he’d peel the skin from your bones.” “Whatever,” I muttered.

We’d all lost people, been betrayed, but Kingston had been tortured on top of it. By a little thing called hope being dangled in front of him. When his sister was taken, he’d done everything he could to get her back. He would’ve paid any price, even his life. But none of that was good enough for Red River. All they wanted was more. Power. Money. Destruction. And by the time we found Natasha, it was too late.

“Ender’s so caught up in her being a threat, but what if she’s running from something? What if she’s in danger?” There was a shift in the air, rage filling it, coming from so many different directions I couldn’t pin them all down. But it was clear that my pack hated the idea. Even if that was the truth, it still meant Wren was a risk. Because she could bring that trouble right to our doorstep.

It didn’t matter that I’d done a ten-mile run this morning in my human form. I wasn’t about to risk shifting with The Diablos in the vicinity. But even with that run, I was still twitchy and on edge, waiting for one of the wolves to show and blow my cover sky high somehow.

They’d told me they’d been together since high school. Never even dated another soul. And you could see how in love they were. I wondered what that was like. To know without a shadow of a doubt that you’d found your person and have them know everything about you.

My wolf perked right up at their presence, preening and pacing back and forth in front of her metaphorical cage. Great, just great.

He blinked a few times, seeming to come back to himself. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh. It’s fucking beautiful.”

As she slid the plate in front of Locke, he said something that made her laugh. A wave of jealousy nearly stole my breath. Since when do I get jealous? My brothers and I shared women on a regular basis, and I’d never felt even a flicker. Worry niggled. The fear that Wren could be a potential mate. But I reminded myself that I’d just touched her and felt no mating bond. I’d only felt the pull of attraction. She might be a potential mate, but she wasn’t a connection I’d be forced into. I still had my freedom.

A back riddled with scars. Different sizes and depths. Various stages of healing. She’d been beaten. Tortured. Over and over again. And I could only think one thing... I was going to kill whoever had done it. And the death would not be quick.

“I just—you shouldn’t have to deal with that bullshit. No one has the right to mistreat you.” The back of my throat burned as if acid had been poured down it. I swallowed hard, trying to clear away the sting. It had been so long since anyone cared if I was mistreated or gave one damn whether I lived or died.

The only touch Brix could handle was the painful kind—sparring or the bite of a tattoo gun. But I guessed that was what happened when your entire family was murdered, and you were almost killed along with them. It twisted your mind.

We were very selective about the cases we took, and it was usually in a pattern: one for the bank account, and one for us—to make the world a better place.