Reluctantly His

Chapter Four

Garrick arrived at home just in time to meet up with the other warriors in the large foyer before they went out to hunt their prey. Due to the full moon, they all expected to be kept pretty busy. Wolfric and Dolf had already started arguing about who would get to use their sword the most, and how many prey they each would put down.

Raed didn't let them go on for very long. "All right, you two. You can carry on your competition once you're out hunting." He looked at Garrick. "Nice to see you made it back in time. I was beginning to wonder if you would."

"We were all thinking we'd have to go out without you," Algar said.

"Maybe Garrick had a perfectly good reason to be out all day." Kamryn chided them. She stood beside Algar, her mate.

"Yeah, Garrick," Wolfric said. "Where were you?"

Garrick shot him an annoyed look. "None of your business. And there was no question I'd make it back in time to hunt."

Brand—the biggest of them all and the quietest—leaned toward Garrick and breathed in deep. "A woman. I can smell her all over him."

With a loud growl, Garrick shoved Brand away. "Keep your nose to yourself, jackass. I said it wasn't any of your business." At Brand's nearly imperceptible smirk, Garrick looked around to find the others staring at him. "What?"

"I do believe Garrick has found his mate," Dolf said with a loud laugh.

"Shut the hell up." Garrick shot back.

Raed cleared his throat to gain his attention. "Is it true? Have you found her?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"If you've spent the day with her, I assume we'll be meeting her soon."

Garrick wished he could have had this conversation with Raed away from the others, but it was too late for that now. His brothers-in-arms stood there with expectant looks on their faces.

"Not exactly," he begrudgingly admitted. "She's not cooperating."

Wolfric elbowed Dolf as they started to laugh, and said, "I guess the smartass'

woman isn't going to be an easy conquest. She's going to make him work for it."

Garrick flipped them both off. "Piss off, you bloody idiots. She'll come around.

It's just going to take time."

"Leave Garrick alone," Kamryn said. "There is nothing wrong with fighting for something you want." She moved to stand in front of him and gave him a kiss on the cheek before she went back to Algar's side. "I'm happy for you. And if Lexi wasn't resting upstairs, I'm sure she would tell you she feels the same way. So what's her name and what's she like?"

With a sigh of defeat, he said, "Her name is Nika. She owns The Old Sow pub."

Algar nodded. "I heard new owners had taken it over. Is she from Norwich?"

"No. She's an American from California."

"Another mate from North America," Kamryn said with a smile. She was originally from Canada and Lexi was from the States, just like Nika.

"Enough about my soon-to-be mate," Garrick said. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to take out some prey. And since Wolfric and Dolf want to stand here gossiping like a couple of old ladies, I guess I'll just have to step up and take out the ones they would have."

"No fucking way is that going to happen," Wolfric bellowed. Both he and Dolf spun on their heels and walked out of the house.

Garrick followed not too far behind, and Brand took up the rear. Raed and Algar were always the last to leave, since they usually took the time to say goodbye to their mates. Garrick didn't want to be a witness to that, especially now that he'd gotten a good taste of Nika. Seeing the others with their mates made him wish for things that weren't even remotely close to being reality. Yet.

Once he was inside his car and driving down the mansion's curving driveway, a smile played across his lips. Nika had done her damnedest to get him to leave the pub.

The looks of displeasure she kept sending his way had only added to the fun. He couldn't wait to see what her reaction would be when he showed up at the pub later that night, closer to closing time. She more than likely thought she'd gotten rid of him . .

. at least for the rest of the day.

Parking the Audi on one of the side streets in the area he'd been assigned to hunt, Garrick headed for the large, fenced-in community park. That was always the first place they checked, especially during the first night of a full moon. Parks were the favorite stalking places of Fenris' get, and where the older ones took the newly turned to shift for the first time. The parks were usually empty of mortals once darkness fell, but were close enough to homes for the new werewolves to have the chance of making their first kill.

Inside the park, Garrick continued cautiously, walking deeper into the trees along a well-worn jogging path, keeping his senses open for any sign of a werewolf lurking nearby. He sniffed the air, but it was blowing upwind of him, which meant his prey would catch his scent before he caught theirs.

He froze in place when a werewolf's howl sounded somewhere closer to the middle of the park and off to his right. Then another and another, and another reached his ears. He'd hit the jackpot with at least four of his prey to be taken down. They'd probably picked up his scent and even now were hunting him as he hunted them.

Silently moving in the direction the howls had come from, Garrick willed his sheathed broadsword onto his back with the scabbard strapped across his chest to hold it in place. He reached over his right shoulder and grasped the pommel as he slowly pulled it free. The bright moonlight flashed on the blade, which was a mix of hard steel and silver. The precious metal was deadly to all of Fenris' werewolves. A strike through the heart, or decapitation with his broadsword would end their existence.

A noise sounded off to Garrick's left. Two large werewolves leaped out of the bushes. Garrick lifted his sword and caught one across the shoulder on the way by. The wolf howled and the wound sizzled. The second werewolf charged. Garrick's sword hit home once more, this time slicing across a furred chest.

As the two wounded werewolves circled him, Garrick saw two more step out of the shadows. Obviously, the ones who had attacked him were newly turned, while these two were the older pack members. They were using him to test the newer ones.

Once again, the wounded werewolves came at him. He met them head on, skewering one through the heart while he shoved the other away. Sharp claws raked down his side as the still-standing werewolf stumbled back. Growling in anger, he swung out with his sword. The blade landed true, slicing through the neck and taking the head clean off.

As the body dropped to join the first on the grass, the older two pack members jumped in to finish what the newer ones had started. Garrick willed his sword and clothes away as he shifted. In a split second, he took on his half wolf/half human werewolf form. Taller and stronger, he attacked the two with his sharp teeth and claws.

Their snarls and growls filled the air. Blood welled from a few more claw marks.

Garrick fought fiercely, until he sensed his opponents weakening. He towered over his trembling prey and willed his sword back into his hand while still in his werewolf form.

"Time to die," he said in a gravelly voice. Unlike Fenris' get, he maintained the ability to retain speech and higher thinking after shifting.

With quick stabs and slices, Garrick ended their existence. Having no more prey to put down, he shifted to his human form and quickly willed clothes onto his body.

Panting, he no longer felt the sting of his wounds. Shifting had completely healed them.

He eyed the scattered werewolf bodies, then looked up at the night sky and called out. "Tiw, I call upon you. I have need of your fire."

As soon as the words left his mouth, blue god-fire engulfed the bodies. He shaded his eyes. The flames burned brighter and hotter, turning the dead to ash. An unnatural wind blew what was left of the beasts away. Not even a scorch mark remained behind to mar the grass. No trace of what had happened here was left behind for mortals to find.

A few more kills like this one and the time until he could see Nika would pass quickly. Leaving the park, Garrick set off to find more prey.

In his den underneath a non-descript farmhouse Nathan—the pack leader of the werewolves sired by Fenris the wolf—watched the members of his pack returning from their night of hunting. He cursed when they straggled through the tunnel opening to the large, central cavern that made up the main part of the den. Less than half of those who had gone out had returned. Most of them were the newly turned, who had instinctively found their way to the hidden den before their first shift.

The Anglo-Saxon god's warriors must have been hard at work cutting down his numbers. Since finding their base, he'd suffered too many losses. This is unacceptable, he fumed. His kind was far superior to those warriors. They may be able to shift into werewolves, but their lack of a bloodthirsty nature made them pitiful. A true werewolf craved the blood of the mortals around him. A true werewolf thrived on the fear of his victims.

Nathan shifted to his wolf form and secluded himself inside the smaller cavern that was his private quarters just off the central one. He hated the servants of Tiw, but so far, everything he'd tried to rid himself of at least one of the warriors had failed miserably.

He lay down and put his head on his outstretched paws. He had to think up a new plan. There had to be a weakness each of the warriors possessed that he could use against them. So far, the only one he knew of was their mates, but only two of the warriors had claimed mortal women as their own. Kept inside their home base, the women were too well protected by their god. That only left one option—he'd have to watch and wait for another warrior to find his mate, and when he did, he'd have to grab her quickly.

Not an easy task to steal the mortal female before her mate fully claimed her, but not an impossible one, either. There would be a tiny window of opportunity after the warrior found her. They usually acted fairly quickly to get their mates safely behind the walls of their mansion.

Nathan sighed, and his wolf's body slumped. He'd have to send some of his werewolves out to watch the warriors during the day. Such a tactic had paid off before and it should work again. But this time, he'd send the ones he'd personally handpicked to turn. These men had been the scum of society even before becoming werewolves. If one of the warriors found his mate, any one of his chosen would be more than capable of capturing her and bringing her to him. With the proper incentive—like being able to have some alone time with the woman—they'd be more than happy to get the job done.