Chapter 1

Emory Chavére looked up from her phone in the back seat of the cab and gazed at the towering Chavére packhouse. Guests were streaming into the compound from every direction.

It was hard not to feel nostalgic for the life she was leaving behind in Broiia only to return home for her brother’s funeral.

Home.

Kedar hadn’t been home in such a long time. Not since her brothers sent her to Broiia after their parents were murdered to be raised by an aunt she barely knew. Her parents and brothers had built this compound with their bare hands while she ran around like a crazy pup, but it was no longer home.

Unlike when it was built, the pack house was now bigger, newer, and much more luxurious, and she was the stranger now.

Trey, the oldest Chavére and Alpha of Kedar, always argued that the war hadn’t ended and wouldn’t let her return. The news of Nolan’s death two years ago snuffed out Emory’s desire to return to Kedar. Now Larc was dead, too: slashed by a Lycian sentinel two weeks ago.

They were the last remaining members of the Chavére family, and it had been eleven years since she’d seen Trey. Why did he finally let her come back here for Larc’s exequies? She didn’t get it, and it bothered her because he didn’t even let her return for Nolan’s funeral.

What was Trey up to?

A handful of Whitecrest wolves stepped out of the compound and headed towards the cab. Taking a deep breath, Emory grabbed her duffle, climbed out of the car, and slammed the door shut behind her.

The black taxi sped off, sending her heart racing: there was no turning back now. Why was she so nervous when she’d been trying to get back here for over a decade?

“Ms Chavére.” Her welcome party curtsied to her, their eyes low as they split into two rows of six to flank her.

One remained in the middle with her, and she watched him with sharp eyes as he approached her.

“The Alpha is expecting you,” he said, his eyes flitting over her face and Emory knew right away that he was Trey’s beta.

“Take me to him,” Emory replied.

He pointed to one of the men. “You, take her bag.”

“My hands work fine. Just take me to Trey.” Emory cut in before the man could do as instructed.

The beta nodded and turned, leading them into the compound. A sea of Whitecrest wolves were gathered in the yard of the house in an arrowhead formation.

All eyes were on Emory as they stepped through the gate, and the crowd stared with apprehension. Unable to resist their prying eyes, Emory looked around at the faces staring at her. In their eyes, she saw questions and judgments, but no one said a thing.

The crowd shuffled out of the way as she was led forward.

In the air, a pungent stench of pain, of loss and grief wafted in the wind as she passed by, and she felt sorry for them. The Lycans had subjugated the wolf population, driving them to near extinction. The Lycan-wolf war had gone on too long and had been devastating, and Emory didn’t see any point in it anymore.

Not one day passed by when she did not try to leave Broiia to join her brothers in the fight. It had always been a hard no from Trey even to take part in Hunter’s Moon a week ago.

A little closer to the front, the beta said, “The Alpha won’t like you carrying that yourself.”

She cast a quick sideways glance at him. It would be more appropriate for one of them to take her bag inside instead of joining the exequies with it. After all, everything would be over before dusk and she’d be gone as quickly as she came. Without a word, she held it out to the closest wolf, who took it.

On the podium where the black cist sat, her eyes fished out Trey standing with another Alpha. Her welcome team peeled off to line up the front row and Trey turned to face her with his familiar green eyes sparkling at her.

She regarded her vaguely familiar brother with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt an inseparable feeling of love, intrigue and fear engulf her, along with curbing resentment.

“Emory. Goddess, you look so much like mum.”

His eyes were filled with such shock that she almost smiled. Her aunt Kinshra always said the same thing to her. Like Emmeline Chavére, she had brilliant red hair and green eyes against fine ebony skin, but she didn’t think she was nearly as lovely as her.

She couldn’t believe how different he was from the teenager she remembered: scared, grieving, and forced to stand up against the beta to retain the Chavére Alpha title.

Trey grew up and got much larger, so fierce.

Before Emory could respond, Trey’s guest took a step to his side and her gaze was drawn to the coldest gray eyes she had ever seen. Slick, wavy brown hair slicked back to reveal a fine, serious face, and they watched silently.

Seeing the scar that ran along the bottom of his left cheekbone into his hair, her eyes widened slightly in recognition.

Rodyn.

Taking a breath, she looked away from him: the first boy she ever dated and now Alpha of one of the only two packs left fighting the Lycians.

“You must remember Rodyn,” Trey said. “He’s now the Alpha of the Rolan pack.” Trey waved her closer: and she went.

Looking back at Rodyn, she shrugged. Sure, she remembered him. Her last memory of him was so vivid, but he was gawking at her like she was a stranger.

“Emory, I am delighted to finally meet you.” The bubbly voice greeted.

That’s when she noticed the woman on Trey’s arm, and she looked between Trey and his Luna. Emory flashed her a kind smile before facing Larc’s cist.

“Shall we confer?” Trey asked Rodyn.

Rodyn nodded in response to Trey’s question and Emory stepped back to get a glimpse of her unmistakably hot ex watching her with those deep, angry eyes. Rodyn grew into an unbelievably sultry Alpha that made her gush with lust.

Still beside her, Trey’s beta waved her forward, and she followed him down the pavement away from the crowd. He opened the side door and stepped inside.

When they all entered the living room, Emory stood and took a moment to look around the wall which was adorned with rhinestones and pictures of her parents and her brothers. While Nolan and Larc were barely recognizable to her, she felt herself smiling as she stared at the picture of her dad.

From beside her, Trey’s mate said, “He’s right, you look so much like Luna Emmeline.”

After a wry glance at her, Emory turned to Trey, Rodyn and another male who she assumed was Rodyn’s beta watching her.

“Why did you send for me?” Emory asked, fully aware it had nothing to do with Larc’s funeral any more.

She felt it was connected to him; Rodyn. There was no way Trey could have brought her back home to marry her off as a strategy to unite both packs.

That would be a very wicked thing for him to do, especially with Rodyn.

“Let’s sit and-”

“There is no need to dither around the matter here, Trey.” Trey’s eyes flashed as Emory cut him off sharply. “Just tell me why I’m here. It can’t be to mourn a brother I barely knew.”

“I think you know,” Trey whispered, almost as though he knew her curt response was a result of her suspicion.

Then she looked at Rodyn and back at Trey again.

“At least have the balls to tell me to my face,” Emory replied, and Rodyn laughed.

Goddess, even the sound of his laugh was hot too. Emory watched him as he walked up to her, those bleak eyes now shining with intrigue and a dash of familiarity. She sucked in a sharp breath when he reached her. Up close, Rodyn towered over her, and she would be afraid if she wasn’t in present company.

In his ogling of her, he grinned a bit mischievously. “Welcome home, Emory. I must say you have grown into an exceptionally beautiful woman.”

Emory bit her lip in response as Rodyn spoke, determined to keep the knot tightening in her stomach under control. His voice sounded different: pleasantly different. Like a surging stream of lava coursing through her with zest.

“Oh, you remember me,” Emory said

Then Rodyn smiled. “You’re impossible to forget.”

As she stared at him, she found that she couldn’t turn away from his gaze. When Trey stepped towards them, Emory was able to slip away from Rodyn to catch her breath.

“The Hunter Moon passed and no hunters rose. Now we must do everything we can in order to win this war,” Trey said. “The Lycan king, General Hendrick Donohue, has appointed Alpha Sean of Shreveport as wolf senator at the United Species Congress. Only the Rolan and Kedar packs can defend the wolves now.”

“A strategy to cut down the wolves and get one of the big packs under their control,” Trey’s mate said.

Maybe it was time to surrender, to give up. Serving the Lycians couldn’t be all that terrible. This war would have meant losing her entire family if she lost Trey, and she didn’t want that to happen.

But she couldn’t tell him that.

Emory folded her arms over her chest. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

“It’s time for the Kedar and Rolan packs to be tied through marriage. We can be stronger together.”

Emory felt her chest tighten as Trey’s words sank in. There was no denying that the hulking Alpha of the west was gobsmacking yummy: she knew that. But this wasn’t Trey’s decision.

“I’m fairly certain you don’t plan on marrying Rodyn.” Emory huffed.

“There is no point in fighting this. It has already been decided. It is your duty as a member of the Chavére family to do this.” Trey stated. “It is necessary to end this war. Do you not wish for it to end so you can come home?”

The sensation from Rodyn drew her attention. His eyes were closed and his nostrils flared slightly, sending a shiver through her, and his voice was cold as he said. “Trey, are you out of your mind?”

Her brows were raised in curiosity as she watched the two of them.

Then Trey ordered: “Everyone get out!” They rushed out almost immediately, but Emory remained. “Rodyn, we discussed this.”

It was hard to keep her eyes off Rodyn as his eyes slipped open.

“Clearly, we had different meanings when we spoke,” Rodyn grumbled. “I don’t need a mate.”

Seeing Rodyn’s eyes dart to her, Emory felt a rush of heat, hollowness and anger and it was directed by Trey!

He’d given Rodyn another chance to reject her!