The Werewolf's Secret Baby: A Paranormal Shifter Romance

Chapter One

Marceline's. There was something off about the cabaret and it wasn't that it had been ravaged by blood enraged werewolves from the rival North Louisiana pack. There was a draw here, something Desmond could feel deep in both his human soul and his beast spirit. A deep burn that left his stomach in a knot and his heart racing. Unexplained arousal and testosterone surrounded him in a cloud of musk so strong, even his own nose could detect it.

He'd tried to avoid this place ever since his mate had left him. He sure hadn't expected the punch in the chest that seeing it, even in its ruined state, caused him. His heart ached at the sight of the ruined stage that he had helped to build...

With a rough shake of his head, he tried desperately to shake the thoughts away and focus on the task at hand. He tried hard to push away thoughts of her.

"Desmond," Arin, his second, called out to him. He didn't turn around, instead just listened as the other man picked his way past the splintered tables and upturned chairs of the strip club.

"Speak," he ordered, once his pack mate had reached his side. The rich, iron tang of blood assaulted his nose, serving as a tell-tale sign of the other's injuries. Not that he was surprised. When Ramson's rouge wolf tipped him off that some of the rival alpha's pack were plotting this attack, he'd expected some of his own would have to fight to drive them off.

"The place is cleared of wolves. Corwin and Larson took a few of the new bloods to track down the ones that ran off before we could finish them," Arin reported. From the steadiness with which he spoke, his injuries couldn't have been too bad.

"How many?"

"Total? Five. We killed three of them in here, the other two escaped. I just wish we'd have gotten here sooner. There were a few humans still alive when we got here, but..." he trailed off.

Desmond didn't need him to finish, though. He understood. They hadn't survived the bites, either because the damage was too great, or their human souls rejected the chance to harbor their beast spirit and accept the change. Most didn't survive a werewolf attack. Out of the ones that did, many would have to be killed by their alpha after their first moon if they couldn't get both halves of themselves, both beast and man, to exist in harmony together.

That's what he suspected had happened to these wolves, though why Ramson hadn't put them down before they attacked, he didn't know.

"Did you happen to find any wolf bodies that didn't belong?" he asked. The question would have sounded offhand, had his voice not cracked with tension and fear. Arin understood the implications behind his question. The shaggy-haired man rested a hand against his alpha's shoulder.

"We all looked out for her. We didn't find her. She must not have been here when they attacked."

Desmond hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it whooshed out of him in a great sigh of relief. The tension that had coiled his muscles and squared his shoulders released marginally.

As if he knew the alpha wouldn't want to talk further on the matter, Arin immediately continued on with his report.

"We've also called Perrine. She's going to bring a few supplies from her shop to get this place cleaned up."

"Good. I'll wait here for her. Join Larson and Corwin. If you can, bring one of the blood enraged wolves back to me alive. It is best to make sure they just couldn't handle the change and that there isn't something bigger going on here," Desmond ordered.

Arin bowed his head respectfully, then turned to sprint out the broken back door. Before he'd made it ten steps up the alley, his skin rippled, his head elongated and fur sprouted in patches across his skin.

Desmond turned away only when a fully shifted, smoke colored wolf let out a low, drawn out howl and turned the corner onto the main street, tongue lolling as he padded away. Only Arin could get away with running through the middle of town as a wolf without getting an earful from him.

He turned away from the back door with a shake of his head, itching to run with his pack mates, but the strange pull to something in the cabaret kept him there.