The Hunt - A Crystal River Pack Novel, Book 1

WEST WIND PACK

The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon as the young men began to gather in the rolling meadow in the Bitterroot Valley of Montana. There was an air of excitement around them. Some had run in previous Hunts before while others were novices. They were all anticipating finding their mates.

Shadows were still being cast from the jagged mountains and tall trees precariously perched on them. The short grass in the meadow was already trampled by the many feet of both man and wolf. A mix of both meandered around waiting for the opening ceremonies for the Summer Solstice Hunt of the Mates.

Some preferred to hunt in their beast form, while others remained in their human form. Some of the Lycans were in a partial shift making them look like the stereotypical Hollywood werewolf. Several men flocked to one of the Lycans who had made it big in the movies, wanting to get a picture and be able to claim to know him.

Wyatt walked out into the large open meadow with the other Hunters from the Crystal River Pack. He was the youngest of the eleven Hunters that he had traveled with. Being the son of an Alpha, the only son of an Alpha, he was used to a lot of attention from the she-wolves. His height, bright green eyes and short dark mahogany hair were inherited from his mother. The caramel coloring and easy temperament came from his father. At seventeen, he stood just under seven feet and could see over most of the crowd.

Using his height to his advantage, he took in the sights around him, wanting to commit everything to memory. Today could be the day that he met his mate and he wanted to remember all the details. The pine trees growing high on the mountains and the light fog that clung to the grass at the tree line.

Looking towards the West, he noted the stage that was draped with the blues and whites of the West Wind Pack. The large Alpha throne sat in the center with the crest carved into the back. Wyatt remembered it from his childhood, sitting in the huge chair with the blue velvet cushion and ruling over his sisters.

Whitney, as the oldest, always wanted to rule. Wenona was a few years younger himself and preferred to play with their grandmother’s jewelry. Wynn, a surprise when Wyatt was eleven, was just happy to be included. With a smile on his face, he caught the eye of another, equally as tall.

Alpha Sampson of the West Winds pack, one of the last Lycan packs, grinned at his nephew who returned his smile. Wyatt and his uncle, his mother’s brother, shared a few family traits, including height, broad shoulders and bright green eyes. Sampson’s light brown fell loosely around his head just brushing his shoulders before he pulled it back into a low ponytail. The older Alpha had a pale complexion that was lightly sun kissed.

Sampson’s voice came through the family link and echoed in Wyatt’s head. It was new to hear a different voice along with the others that had become as familiar to him. Now that they were on Sampson’s pack lands, the family link had extended to him and his young children.

Wyatt looked down at what he was wearing and chuckled.

Sampson wore khaki slacks, a navy-blue polo shirt and tennis shoes. Wyatt sported khaki cargo shorts and a dark blue, Naval, recruit T-shirt and well-worn, thoroughly abused, gray running shoes.

The younger man gave a soft laugh causing those around him to look at him.

Sampson’s laughter echoed across the meadow. Seeing the host Alpha caused a ripple of excitement to run through the crowd of Hunters as the breeze carried the scent of the female wolves, called Maidens, from the other side of the orchard. Yips and howls filled the air as the tall Alpha of the West Winds pack mounted the stage.

Motioning for the crowd of males to settle down, Sampson waited for the area to fall silent. “Thousands of years ago on the Seven Hills of the city that we now call Rome, two brothers were tended by a She-Wolf and suckled from her milk with her own pups. As they grew much slower than their wolf brethren, the she-wolf grew more attached to them. At the end of her life, she howled at the moon, begging the moon goddess, Selene, to watch over her pups.”

“Selene blessed the two human brothers with the ability to run and hunt with the wolves that they had grown up with. But they could not keep up, and she then gave them the ability to shift between the two forms. When it was time for them to take their own mates, they chased them down, hunted them. Selene again blessed their mates to be able to shift and run with their mates and the wolves.”

“The women of Rome wanted to be chosen as a mate for one of the wolf-men. To find who would best suit the sons of Remus and Romulus, they hosted the first Hunt on the longest day of the year. As the old world slowly fell away and the new world took over, our ancestors were forced into the shadows.”

“Undeterred, we continued to gather on the Summer Solstice and Hunt for our mates.” There were more excited howls and yips echoing off the valley walls. Wyatt threw back his head and howled long and loud.

“This is why you are here today! To find your mates!” Sampson pointed to the tree line. “The eligible Maidens have been taken into the trees where they will be running through the woods! At the sound of the horn, you may pursue them.”

Wyatt smiled. Somewhere in the woods was his older sister doing her third Hunt. And maybe, if he was lucky, his own fated mate would be in the woods too.

Alpha Sampson stepped aside, and a bugler stepped up. He looked towards the trees as if he was waiting for his cue. Faintly, the sound of Wyatt’s mother’s voice echoed in his head as she said that they were ready. The musician raised his instrument to his lips and blew a three-note signal. The male werewolves surged forward towards the trees as one, each with a singular goal in mind. Find their mate.

Halfway through the orchard, Wyatt already knew that his mate was not there. There was no scent from her. No pheromones. No tingling sensation. No pull. Even if his mate was not here, there would be plenty of maids that would be willing to be his for the night. It was a long-standing unofficial tradition. Any females who had not found their matches by the end of the Hunt would wait at the far end of the course. Unmated couples could hook up for the night and there would be no harm done when they parted ways the following morning.

Like so many of the other unmated males, Wyatt was lost in the excitement of the hunt. The scent of so many females, excited females, were driving them all harder and faster. In the excitement, some of the other hunters were also letting their wolves lead as they pursued their prey. Giving into the animals that lived inside them, becoming the beasts that the world feared.

Laughter filled the woods that lay on the North side of the meadow. Wyatt entered the woods and his eyes shifted as Demon pushed to the front. With his Lycan wolf now pushing his human form through the woods, he let out a howl of excitement. Loud, excited cries echoed around him as he pushed his body forward. Demon wanted to take control and shift completely into his were form. If Demon had not been so close to the surface of their shared mind, the cry for help probably would not have pushed through the haze.

“NO! HELP! WYATT!”

It was a cry through the mind link shared by the Crystal River Pack members. But it also came through the family link and carried across the air. Whitney was crying out, her voice filled with so much fear that all of Demon’s Alpha instincts took over. Being a Lycan-dominant Were, he could do a partial shift with his wolf taking control, but he remained mostly in his human form. Continuing to run on two feet, his human body sprouted wolf fur as his claws and fangs extended.

His body stretched to his full Lycan height, standing at just over eight feet tall. Muscles bulged and rippled as he slashed his t-shirt off, and his shorts stretched at the seams. The old shoes on his feet flew off in shreds, his ankle socks tearing, leaving patches of cotton caught on his claws and cuffs stretched around his ankles.

Another cry for help came across the links and through the air as he jumped over another hunter, using a large tree trunk to push himself harder and faster towards his sister. Her cries grew louder, more terrified. He bounced off the tree trunks and left claw marks in the bark.

As Demon took control of their body, Wyatt felt stronger and faster than he had ever before. Although he had done a partial shift before, Demon had never been in full control. Nor had he ever been reacting to one of his sisters crying out for help.

Whitney came into view and Demon propelled them towards her attacker. Her light green eyes were wide with fear. The crimson red shirt to indicate the pack she belonged to was torn and stained with dirt. just as her dark colored leggings.

Landing on all four paws before standing to his full height and yanking the Beta off her terrified form. The older wolf was a darker skinned man with golden brown eyes and short black hair. He growled angrily and swiped at the intruding male.

Demon roared and forced his Alpha authority out. The Beta recoiled and whimpered in submission as his feet dangled a few inches off the ground, slowly sliding towards the dirt beneath them as the Beta’s shirt ripped. The sound of material tearing under the weight of the Beta’s body and the sound of the scrape of Demon’s sharp claws pulled Whitney out of her shocked stupor.

The drive to protect her mate was suddenly stronger than her fear. “Wyatt!” Whitney screamed as she stood up and forced herself between the two. Placing her hands on her brother’s fur covered chest, she hoped that her touch would ground him.

“Demon, please.” She pleaded with her brother’s wolf. “Please. He is my mate.”

Her fingernails dug in slightly as his muscles shifted under her hands. Whitney could feel the battle being waged within her brother as his breath was hard and ragged. The wall of muscles on his chest rippled and then trembled as he took a deep breath.

Looking down at his sister, his face softened, and his snarl faded. Demon tossed the man away from him and pulled Whitney close to him. Slowly, with his arms tightly wrapped around her and inhaling her scent, Demon subsided so Wyatt could return.

“I’m okay, Wyatt.” she said softly as a tear trickled out of her eye.

“She is your mate.” Wyatt growled at the Beta wolf, resuming his human form. “You should treasure her, not abuse her.”

“I’m sorry, Alpha.” The man said as he lowered his head in submission. “I was excited about the Hunt and I… I lost control of myself.” Shame filled his face with a red blush and a tremor in his voice.

“It happens, Wyatt.” Whitney told him. “Mom told me it might. I just panicked.”

“He nearly raped you.” Wyatt said, looking down at his older sister.

“But he didn’t.” she pointed out. “You came to help me. Others are not as lucky.”

As if to emphasize her point, another scream ripped through the forest. Both men turned towards the sound, deep protective growls emanating from their throats.

“You can’t protect all the Maidens from their mates.” Whitney whispered. “Not even a Lycan like you. Not even a full-blooded Lycan like Uncle Sampson.” She glanced at the Beta male that her wolf, Jewel, recognized as their mate. Once again, Jewel was panting and yipping in excitement inside Whitney’s mind. “If I had known him, I probably would not have been as scared.”

This was not her first Hunt. She had been sent to them ever since she turned seventeen, whether she wanted to or not. Like all other females, she had no say in the choice of her mate. It was determined by the moon goddess and whether the male accepted or rejected her. As the daughter of an Alpha, she attended as many council events as possible and still had not met her mate.

Once again, she had been told that she must participate in the annual Hunt. This time, when she sensed him, both the woman and wolf had been excited… until they weren’t. The beta had approached, growling possessively as he stalked her, intent on claiming what he believed was his. Fear washed over her and not even Jewel could connect with his inner wolf to calm him as she had seen her mother do with her own mate. Whitney had pleaded with the male; his eyes were glazed as his wolf had the lead. Fearing that she had no other choice, she had called out for her younger brother with every option that she had.

“I’m sorry, mate,” the man said as he stood up and offered her a hand. “I’m Nathaniel Taylor, High Plains Pack.”

“Whitney O’Donnell, Crystal River.” She took his hand and a small step away from her brother who kept a light protective hand on her shoulder. “And my brother, the next Alpha, Wyatt.”

They were surrounded by howls and screams as the three of them made their way to the end of the course. The following day, when the newly mated couples presented themselves before the Elder Alpha’s and the council, Wyatt noticed how many of the females looked terrified — how many of them cowered from their mates.

More importantly, he saw how many of the Alphas and parents approved of the matches and forced their daughters and female pack members to leave the pack that they had known their entire lives and start over with their mate in a new and unknown pack. There was even one, the daughter of the Silver Lake Alpha, who was sent to live in Mexico. She did not speak Spanish; he did not speak English. It was deemed a good match, and a terrified girl was sent live with a man at least ten years her senior.

Wyatt swore then and there that he would never participate in another Hunt. And when he became Alpha, he would work hard to change how the annual Summer Solstice Hunt for Mates was done. Whitney had said that he could not save them all. But he sure as hell would try.