Wolf Shifter Diaries: Lies Tamed (Sweet Paranormal Wolf & Fae Fantasy Romance Series Book 2) Read online

  Shifter Diaries:

  Lies Tamed

  ~

  Sweet Paranormal Wolf & Fae Fantasy Romance Series

  ~

  Book 2

  ~

  by

  E. Hall

  Shifter Diaries: Lies Tamed

  Copyright© 2020 E Hall

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author/publisher except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  *Note: portions of this book was previously published under a different pen name of mine. The content has been revised and updated.

  Cover Design: Melony Paradise of Paradise Cover Design www.paradisecoverdesign.com

  Website: http://www.ehallauthor.com

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ehallauthor

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 1

  Let’s Connect

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by E. Hall

  Are you a fan of fantasy and magic?

  Page-turning mystery and danger?

  With a splash of romance?

  If you haven’t already, join my newsletter to receive a copy of Shifter Diaries: The Seal of the Fated Mates. It’s the prequel to Sweet Paranormal Wolf & Fae Fantasy Romance Series. You’ll also have access to FREE bonus “segue scenes” that chronicle what happens between the Court of Crown & Compass books!

  Dear Diary,

  Is it possible to hear silence? I know, I know. Deep thought over here. But I’m still getting used to life in Concordia. This far north, the silence can be so profound, it’s like when astronauts have to get used to hearing the sound of their bodily functions while in space. It’s a kind of quiet so full, it has a sound all its own.

  Speaking of getting used to things, have I mentioned I now live at a wolf pack Headquarters in Concordia?

  Right. Only about a thousand times. Never mind me not knowing Concordia was a country until a few months ago, but I had no idea that wolf shifters, vampires, fae, or magic were a thing.

  So the sound of silence is rare here, but it’s real. As real as the shimmer of fae power that comes from my fingers, the wolf that exists somewhere in my bones and presses through, and the weird reaction I have to blood. I’m not ready to talk about that.

  You know what else is real? Homesickness. I’d never experienced it until now. And it’s not for the apartment my mom and I lived in or any one thing about New Hampshire. Sure, I miss her and the doughnut shop where I worked (can’t go wrong with free doughnuts every shift!), and my friends. But I guess part of me misses me.

  Does that even make sense? Diary, if not, deal with it because that’s what you’re here for.

  I miss knowing myself. This is a whole new world, exploring the frontiers of Kenna the magical. Also, Magical’s Most Wanted—apparently, my parents broke some laws and my existence is illegal.

  But back to homesickness. I don't hear lawnmowers or leaf blowers, no kids laughing in the streets, or moms hollering for them to come home for dinner. There’s no music cranked or cars cruising by with loud mufflers. It’s like there’s a curtain pulled around this little corner of the country, leaving nothing but silence.

  Well, except the wolf pack. They can be noisy, especially about their uncertainty when it comes to my presence on their land.

  With my very presence being against the law, I get it, guys. I’m uncertain about myself too. Still, they don’t have to be mean. Then again, they’re wolves. Don’t get me wrong, not all of them are jerks. Just a few. Turns out there’s mean girl shifters too.

  The only thing I’m not unsure about are my feelings for Corbin, the Alpha leader. Right now, I feel the pull when in his presence—the tug that rises from behind my belly button to my chest and fills my head like thousands of little love hearts.

  What I couldn’t deal with would be silence from him. Thankfully, we’re bonded by wolf magic as fated mates.

  I’ll be back soon, diary, because this new life is a lot for one hybrid magical to figure out.

  Love,

  Kenna

  Chapter 1

  Kenna

  When life gives you blueberries, make blueberry muffins. I found a huge bush off one of the trails on the pack land so I’m baking them for the pack with the hope that fresh-baked yumminess will make them think I’m less of a troll. Wait, are trolls real? I’m not a troll. No, I’m a magical mutt, according to the whispers I hear.

  Warm blueberry and buttery goodness fill the lodge’s custom kitchen. The array of professional chef-quality equipment is quite the upgrade from the various apartment kitchens I’ve lived in back in the United States.

  It took me a minute to find my way around in here, but the pantry is stocked with almost everything I could need to cook or bake anything. I could probably even make doughnuts considering the variety of kitchen gadgets lining the upper shelves of the pantry.

  What I haven’t figured out how to navigate is Pack Hjalmor. The betas—Baker, Camilla, Claude, Inga, and Trigg—are great, but they know my story. I’m not including Avril in that list because she despises me. However, the subordinates—so basically everyone else—witnessed me lose it during the Mate Call-Out with Amanda. They whisper and cast furtive glances in my direction, or go quiet whenever I enter a room.

  The oven dings. As I take the muffins out to cool, Heather, Harper, and Hannah enter the kitchen.

  Heather says, “Smells like a wet dog in here.”

  My stomach clenches.

  The others chuckle as they sit down at the long farm table that could seat a few dozen people.

  Their eyes track my every movement. I don’t think they realize how uncomfortable this makes me feel. Or maybe they do, and that’s the point.

  I glance at my reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator. Do I have blueberry stuck between my teeth? I check my sneaker for a square of toilet paper stuck to the sole. Nope.

  I set the muffins in a basket and bring them over to the table. The three shifters hurriedly get up and leave the room. Maybe they’re allergic to blueberries. Or me.

  I plop down at the end of the table. Sitting here, alone and without distractions, only highlights how strange my life has become and how there’s a certain loneliness that comes with being Magical’s Most Wanted.

  My inner-terrain continues to shift, uncertain where to settle. I still don’t know where I fit in here or if I do. I
shoulder a nagging feeling that I don’t care, but that notion tilts my inner world even further askew because I do care. Corbin is my home, and this is his home. Of course, I want a place in it.

  Even at this early morning hour, the lodge is already alive with activity. Now and at other mealtimes, I’ve observed the typical groups like from high school. Some like drama and pop culture. There are nerdy-geeks, athletic types, and the cliquey-girly posse that just vacated the table.

  Maybe there is a crossover-group that I’m not aware of—a collect-all for people like me. Or maybe I’m just me. Kenna Slade, the one and only. Ding, ding, ding. That’s the right answer.

  I tear a page from my diary and jot a note for Corbin. I walk to where he lives in a small, private residence just behind the main lodge.

  I leave the note, telling him I’m going for a run, along with a muffin on his doorstep. He was on patrol last night, so he’s probably exhausted.

  Then again, wolves don’t get tired like regular people. As I synthesize with my magic, I’m able to draw on new levels of energy. I do so now, urging my wolf toward the surface. I could go for a regular run with sneakers, shorts, and a tank top, but shifting into a wolf is way cooler.

  I gaze ahead at the place where the horizon meets the sky in gradients of blue I didn’t know were possible this far north. The trees are well into turning autumn colors, washing the landscape in reds and golds.

  I close my eyes as my wolf comes to life. Heat and cold slide from my fingertips and toes all the way into my center as my bones and organs and inner composition changes along with the outer into a wolf with reddish fur and eyes that match my own.

  I’m still Kenna and can access my thoughts, but their emotional meanings slip away. It’s just sensation without worry or concern or labels like left out, excluded, or lonely.

  The dirt path under my feet becomes a streak of color as I bound along the trails that stretch toward the mountains. My mind goes quiet, and I am wild and free.

  Of course, my senses are still on alert. I pick up the increasingly familiar scents of other wolves, animals, and traces of magic. I’m on a steep learning curve, but my wolf processes it differently than I would. Life seems simpler as a wolf, and I like it this way.

  I streak past rush grass and spear thistles. A stand of pine trees line the base of the Montmartres Mountains, and the bold green of the birch trees’ leaves are fading toward yellow.

  I spent the summer at Headquarters while Corbin hunted a rogue werewolf. Unfortunately, it’s still out there.

  A picnic table seems oddly out of place, but I imagine the wolves enjoy picnicking out here. I catch the scent of a few members of the pack who must have been out this way last night. Then a strong scent practically drowns my senses with its wolfiness.

  I almost stop but will let Corbin catch me. He’s a careful, quiet runner, but my senses are attuned to him no matter if we’re in physical or wolf form. He’s behind me, coming up fast on my right flank. I brace myself in case I misjudged his speed, but then stop abruptly as Corbin tackles me. His copper eyes sparkle. He wears a playful smile as our pelts and bones and paws crash together.

  If I could laugh, I would. I’m not sure what to call the gleeful sound I make other than a yip. It’s kind of like a cross between a purr, a giggle, and a sound unique to wolves.

  As our connection grows, our line of communicating in the wolf-way is improving. It’s not like we can read each other’s thoughts, but it’s an energetic and species-unique language all its own.

  I understand the wolf-way of communicating like high tech internal walkie talkies. Sometimes my end has static, but I’m working on it.

  You thought you’d get away with going on a run without me this morning? Corbin asks.

  I figured since you were on patrol all night, you’d be exhausted, I reply.

  Ate that blueberry muffin and now I’m like new.

  You didn’t have steak for breakfast? The wolves love their meat.

  That too. Scarfed it down before tracking you down.

  Corbin has me pinned to the ground and then nuzzles me with his snout. I want to shift back to human form. As though sensing this, he lets out a sharp bark, jumps to his feet, and then takes off. The idea is for me to chase him. But soon, I’m not sure who’s chasing who as we race on the trails.

  Suddenly, I catch the scent of a human. Distracted and slightly panicked, I lose my footing, shift, and tumble down an incline. Fortunately, at the bottom is one of many stashes of clothing. Every day, it’s someone’s duty to replenish the supply. I’ve gotten used to wearing random T-shirts, shorts, and leggings that don’t belong to me.

  Corbin must’ve caught the scent too because he strides toward me wearing a pair of black work pants and a blue T-shirt.

  Taking my hand, a thrill at his touch shoots through me. My cheeks tint pink. We walk along the trail, both keeping alert.

  From a bend in the path, a man with a thick beard and gentle eyes appears. He carries a rifle. “Nice day, Corbin.”

  Corbin eyes the rifle. “Good weather.”

  “I’ll say.”

  The two go on, discussing the most boring thing ever. The weather. I mean, yeah, it’s almost autumn, and that’s great and all, but who thought it could be discussed for nearly five minutes?

  When we go our separate ways, I give Corbin a look. “I didn’t know you took such a keen interest in meteorology.”

  He chuckles. “More like hunting activity. Some of the locals know about us and report on things in code. After Richard Dubois was killed, they’ve been wary. Sorry I didn’t introduce you. The less they know about you, the better. That was John Stafford. He’s a good guy. But in so many words, I warned him to be careful. The rifle wouldn’t quite do the trick if he came across the werewolf.”

  “It’s not a full moon.”

  “No, but curses can lift or shift.”

  A chill creeps over me. But Corbin squeezes my hand, warming me all over again. I don’t think the toe-tingling, cheek-heating, butterfly-fluttering sensation of him touching me will ever get old.

  We reach the ridge that runs along the upper part of the property, giving us a wide view of the borders, the lake, and the activity below. Several pack members work in one of the gardens and someone else paints a fence.

  “You should be proud of what you created here,” I say, admiring how everyone contributes. “It’s like a family.” I try not to allow the left-out feeling sneak into my voice.

  When I’m with Corbin, I feel completely included and cared for. It’s the subordinates plus Avril that have me feeling like an outsider.

  “Any chores that need doing?” I ask as we near the lodge.

  “You already baked muffins this morning. At least five dozen by the looks of the pile in the kitchen.”

  “I’m surprised there were any left when you got there.” Am I such a pariah the pack won’t eat my muffins?

  “Oh, they lasted less than sixty seconds as everyone arrived for breakfast.”

  Relief washes through me. Maybe I’ll win them over by baking.

  Baker intercepts Corbin, calling him to the den—a private meeting room for the Alpha and beta wolves.

  As the head of the pack, Corbin has a lot of responsibilities and I hate to see him go but understand.

  He kisses my temple. “See you in a bit.”

  A lightning-strike feeling flushes my cheeks when his lips meet my skin. It’s like a bolt from the blue. We’re keeping our fated mate status on the down-low, but I can safely call Corbin my boyfriend even if I can’t call many of the other wolves friends.

  I wander into the lodge and back to the kitchen. I have to see for myself if the muffins are gone. All I’ve ever wanted was a big family. I love my mom and all, but she worked a lot, and it was just the two of us. Andi, my best friend through high school, was one of eight kids. They had me over for dinner and sleepovers loads of times, chasing away the loneliness, but it’s come back full force even though I’m in a
houseful.

  The platter is empty. I check the trash to be sure. My stomach sinks. Someone threw them out. Or by the sound of chatter from the common room, three someones. Why would Corbin lie?

  The ceilings in the lodge are high with exposed rough-sawn lumber beams. The windows practically fill the wall, letting in sunlight. A large fieldstone fireplace stands cold in the great room.

  Various seating areas fill with members of the pack.

  Avril sits with Heather, Harper, and Hannah. I’m surprised she’s not at the den meeting. As she trails me with her sharp, dark-eyed gaze, I feel like I’m wading into shark-infested waters. I force myself not to shiver. There should be a guide with user reports, hazards, and anything that might offer me instruction on how to deal with female wolf shifters.

  I suddenly find a painting on the wall of a lighthouse fascinating. I imagine summer afternoons in its shadow, lounging on the beach, and gazing out to sea. At that relaxing vision, my breathing comes easier.

  My extra sensitive wolf hearing attunes to the vibe of the room. There are guys playing chess, others taking about chores that need to be done, and then the girls gossiping about...me.

  I moved around a few times as a kid and when I got to high school, my mother told me something that stuck with me. She said, “When you enter a room, take the temperature, but be the thermostat.” In other words, don’t let other people’s moods dictate my own.

  I force my shoulders to relax, releasing the tension and frustration I feel about being in what feels like no-man’s-land, thousands of miles from home. I make my cheeks lift into a smile.

  Nodding at the girls, I call, “Hi, can I sit with you?” It’s admittedly weak but better than talking about the weather like Corbin and John Stafford.

  In turn, they measure me up—Avril with her facial piercings, Heather who’s pale and wiry, and Harper, who is tan and sturdy. Hannah stares at her hands.

  “I don’t think we’ve all officially met. I’m Kenna Slade.”