Cats and Dogs_Age of Night_Book Four Read online

  Cats and Dogs

  Age of Night Book Four

  May Sage

  Contents

  1. Two Worlds

  2. Curious Things

  3. Silver and Blood

  4. Evaluation

  5. Fleabag

  6. Promises

  7. Ghosts

  8. The Stranger

  9. Theories

  10. The Wolf

  11. The Wyverns

  12. The Cabin

  13. Perspective

  14. The Heart

  15. Trail

  16. Jason

  17. The Lake Cabin

  18. Brothers

  19. Omega

  20. Shit

  Epilogue

  Frostbound Throne Excerpt

  Strands of Starfire Excerpt

  Cats and Dogs

  Age of Night book four

  May Sage © 2018

  Chapter 1

  Two Worlds

  "Hunter! Hunter, where are you?" The tall, willowy teenager clad in black gear called him from the doorstep of the largest wooden house in the entire territory; the Alpha's home.

  The little wolfling was practically trembling in excitement, but he remained where he was, hidden and completely still.

  "Come on, I don't have time to play now. And you know I'll get in trouble if you're not here when Dad comes back."

  She wasn't lying. Their father had ordered Gwen to watch him, and no one disobeyed the Alpha of the Vergas Pack, not even his only daughter. She'd be lucky if she got away with a slap. But Hunter remained where he was; he knew their father wasn't back yet. He would have smelled him if he had been.

  Wolves were generally gifted trackers compared to other shifters out there, but from the day he'd first shifted two years ago, it had been obvious to everyone that Hunter was something else. Something special.

  He'd been ten at the time, and he'd distinguished himself by being the first to scent an intruder in their territory, ahead of everyone else, even the grownups. Even his father.

  At twelve, now he was the best tracker in the entire pack, to the dismay of his brother, Jason. Even his father seemed to resent him for it, somehow. Gwen was the only one who didn't seem to mind.

  Hunter would never risk her suffering their father's wrath. As soon as Hunter caught a whiff of Arthur Force, he'd run to his bedroom and pretend to practice his left hook on his punching bag, like he was supposed to.

  Gwen sighed on the terrace and stepped in the garden.

  "Alright. I'll play. But don't you forget the rules. If I can catch you in less than five minutes, you do my chores for the rest of the day."

  His tail silently started to sway back and forth. Gwen was the only one who ever played with him. The other kids in the pack couldn't; they were expected to show deference to him, not see him as a playmate. Jason was busy with his enforcer training; after pulling long hours, he got home and collapsed until it was time to return to his duties. But, although Gwen was just as busy with her books on magic and healing, she always gave in.

  Hunter watched her morph into a beautiful white wolf in awe; it never got old. She was the only white wolf he'd ever seen - perhaps the only one in existence at all. Red and white wolves were so very rare, although no one knew why.

  Hunter was her opposite: completely black, while his brother and father were both gray.

  The wolf started to sniff, trying to catch him. She wouldn't this time, he was pretty certain of it. Just like his strength was his sense of smell, Gwen's was her hearing, and he wasn't making a noise. He'd rolled in fox shit and he was hiding under the generator, which was rumbling low. It was totally going to mess up her senses.

  He was safe...

  The white wolf paced in a circle, slowly, and then suddenly started running at full speed, heading right toward him.

  Shit.

  Hunter crawled out from under the generator and dashed away. But, for all his skills, he was a teenager who'd just shifted two years ago, while his nineteen-year-old sister had been one with her beast for ten years. He knew he was screwed; she always won races. It didn't mean he wasn't gonna play. He ran as fast as his limbs could carry him, tongue hanging, tail batting the air, until a heavy weight pinned him down to the ground. The white fur gave way to naked skin, and, laughing her ass off, Gwen said, "Got you! Guess who's doing laundry?"

  It didn't matter that he'd lost. There was always tomorrow, and the day after that. Gwen would always be there to catch him.

  Until the day she wasn't.

  "Bow to me."

  Christine lifted an unimpressed brow, staring up at Donna, who was grimacing, hands crossed on her chest. The girl looked like she was chewing on a porcupine.

  "You're just a submissive; you should bow to me and beg me for protection."

  She chuckled. "Yeah, right."

  Once upon a time, what felt like a lifetime ago, Donna had been her friend. So had most of the kids who stood behind her now, supporting her as she attempted to bully Christine.

  Christine wasn't the only submissive kid in the royal pride, not by a long shot. But she was the one everyone picked on. Sometimes she wondered why. Other times, she remembered that it didn't matter in the end. Her daddy said dominant or submissive were just words, words that meant nothing at all unless you let them.

  She proved that right again, when Donna hissed and stepped forward, her eyes narrowed into slits. Christine punched her in the face as soon as she entered her personal space.

  She was a submissive, not a doormat, dammit.

  Donna screeched, "You're gonna pay for that, you weakling."

  She might have been a little more impressed if something like that didn't happen every other day; and it always ended the same way. Donna attacked, Christine defended herself, only hitting when the girl entered her personal space. Then, eventually, the others would approach and Christine would just run. She was no coward; she just didn't see the logic in attempting to win a five-against-one fight.

  That behavior did show that the diagnostic of the Elders was right: she truly was a submissive, because she never had actually attacked first, and probably never would. She had no problem with anyone, as long as they left her alone. And because she also had nothing to prove. They all went to the same combat classes, and they knew that in a one-on-one fair fight, she could take any of them. She had, numerous times.

  Come to think of it, that probably was the reason why they wouldn't leave her alone.

  What Donna and the others seemed to ignore was the fact that, dominant or submissive, they were all big-cat shifters. That meant that, if someone messed with them, her response was scratching the bitch to shreds. She just didn't see the point in going looking for trouble.

  Someone chuckled behind her; a boy, not quite a man. Donna looked shocked and turned ashen. When Christine turned, she was only mildly surprised to see Rygan and Colter Wayland standing there.

  The two sons of Byron, king of all feline shifters.

  The boys weren't often seen around the other kids of the pride. Colter had joined the ranks of his father's enforcers when he'd turned eighteen, and, while Rygan wasn't yet officially included in the pack authority, he hung out with the grownups.

  "That was one nice punch, Red," said Rygan, extending his hand to greet her.

  Her. Little Christine Taylor, daughter to an accountant and a school teacher, and a submissive. A nobody. She took it and shook it cautiously, half expecting him to punch her instead.

  "You know, me, Coveney, Ian, and Ola are sparring later. Ola always says there's too much testosterone in the air. You should come hang out."

  Hanging out with the prince. She gulped. "Really?"


  Rygan shrugged. "If you wanna."

  She did want to go with him. And, years later, when he left the pack with a handful of young shifters and not many prospects, she still wanted to tag along with him. There was just something about Rygan Wayland that demanded respect and loyalty.

  Chapter 2

  Curious Things

  "I need a vacation. And a massage. On you," she added, glaring at her Alpha. "I didn't sign up for that much stress when I joined this bloody pride."

  There was a chorus of agreement coming from everyone in the room.

  They'd only just survived an attack from basically every shifter on the continent - and some from abroad, too - and now, the most powerful members of the pride were heading to Italy, for an offensive against a hidden city.

  Christine was staying home because someone had to take care of the kids. The enforcers who remained with them were going to be busy patrolling the territory night and day until they were sure no enemies had remained behind. Her job was making sure that their nine kids remained sane through the mess.

  Did she get paid enough for this? Probably. That didn't mean she wasn't going to complain, though.

  Rye just chuckled. "No, you signed up for starving in a moldy motel for regular humans."

  He wasn't wrong. They hadn't had a lot of prospects at the time; not until Rye's grandma turned up with her shiny checkbook, anyway.

  "But you can have a vacation."

  "And a massage," she reminded him.

  "Don't push your luck."

  Christine stared up at the Alpha and pouted, making her eyes bulge in her face.

  Homeschooling the kids meant that she spent more time than anyone else in the whole Wyvern Pride with the little troublemakers. Every day, at least one of them sent her that look, the sad and hopeful baby face. She wasn't nearly as good as Lola, but her imitation of the kids' weapon was efficient, nonetheless.

  Rygan winced. "Alright. And a massage on me, as soon as we get back."

  She did a victorious fist pump, and, behind Rygan's back, Jas took a bow. Ace, Rygan's mate and their alpha female, mouthed, "Teach me."

  Like she needed another weapon. The woman was lethal, but small and extremely cute. If her other charms didn't work, she could bribe people with the best cupcakes in the universe. If she added the look to her arsenal, she'd be unstoppable.

  "You guys take care, okay? We'll be alright here. Especially since we have three new pride members.” They’d recently accepted four new recruits: Sawyer, Theo, Ariadna, and Luke. Sawyer, like Christine’s old friend, Tracy, hadn’t survived the attack on their pride. The three others had jumped right into their new duties, picking up patrolling, cleaning up, and babysitting shifts. They wouldn’t quite make up for the Alphas’ and Betas’ absence, but they weren’t left defenseless. “Plus, Rain and Vivicia are also staying."

  Vivicia Crawley was a badass werewolf loner and Rain Phillips was one of the strongest witches Christine had ever encountered. Which might not mean as much as it could, given the fact that she hadn't encountered many witches. Or like, any, except for Rain. When the Wyvern Pride needed the assistance of a witch, one of the enforcers made contact. As the official carer among them, it was nowhere near Christine’s list of duties.

  Still, Rain was powerful; Christine had felt shields before - the royal pride's territory was surrounded by a cocoon that only those who were invited could pass, for instance. That shield was nothing compared to the immaterial wall Rain had erected around Lakesides, their town.

  Sometimes she wondered why Rain was a loner; witches generally remained in their covens, where their powers were at their strongest. But she'd never asked because that seemed rude.

  They all bid their pridemates goodbye on the doorstep, and then Jas announced, "I'll take the first patrol. Rain, come with me. Then, you can tell me all about why you're a loner."

  Christine's mouth fell open. "Not fair! I wanna know, too. Can I patrol with you?"

  "But Christy, you said we could play in the garden," Jasper, one of the kids, protested.

  Shit. The kids couldn't go out without her. Her shoulders sagged.

  Ian patted her shoulder. "Go. I'll take them to the garden with Vivicia.”

  She hesitated a second. Ian was just as responsible as anyone in the pride, and he pulled his weight with the kids, but Christine knew he wasn't that good with Lola.

  At three years of age, the child had her favorites: Rygan and Christine. She misbehaved with everyone else, taking great pleasure in hiding and making their blood pressure rise just for the fun of it.

  "Go. Vivicia will protect me from your mini-devil and you can come save us in a couple of hours."

  The she-wolf winked and waved her away, gesturing her to go.

  She thanked Vi and Ian and joined the two women waiting for her in front of the house, practically skipping. "I've never patrolled," she confessed.

  It wasn't that she wasn't capable of it, but she'd never had the inclination to take on that sort of job, and Rye hadn't forced the matter. When there was danger nearby, her instincts were to stay close to the children. Rye had told her once that he was glad she'd taken on that role.

  "There's always the possibility of an enemy sneaking past us," he'd said. "It's a relief to know you're there to kick their ass."

  She'd beamed, feeling a little proud; he wasn't leaving her behind because she was a useless submissive. He did so because he could concentrate on the fight at hand if he knew the children had protection. Besides, no one could get them to calm down like she could when they were stressed out.

  A few days ago, when hell had rained down on them from the Shifter Council and all their goons, two adults had been left with the children: Christine and Clary, a brand-new, but nonetheless dangerous, tigress. She might have been of help in the battle, but the fact that she was asked to remain with her and the kids proved that Rye truly believed the right thing was to leave assets behind.

  Somehow, now the pride had grown, including three new shifters they could trust, Christine's need to remain glued to the kids was lightening a little. Between the presence of Luke, Theo, and Ari, and Rain's shields, she felt like she could try to patrol.

  Plus, she was a cat. Curiosity was in her nature.

  “Come on. Tell me all the things.”

  Chapter 3

  Silver and Blood

  Hunter volunteered for patrol that day. As usual, he’d done more than his share that week, but being out there at the border of their lands beat the alternative: spending time with the pack.

  It hadn’t always been that way, by a long shot. In the old days, Hunter had been an integral part of the Vergas, and proud to be part of it. They were known among the wolves as the largest, most powerful pack. As a kid, and as the Alpha’s son, he had every reason to be proud of that.

  Then, reality crept up on him.

  It started when he’d left for college twelve years ago. Regulars didn’t exactly welcome sups in their school, so it was rare when a shifter was accepted; but Gwen pushed, and Hunter couldn’t say no to his big sister for very long, so he filled out an application, passed his tests, and got into Dartmouth.

  Everyone was surprised that Arthur let him go; education wasn't his priority. But the Alpha had two good heirs - what his third kid was up to was of little interest to him. A Dartmouth degree was suitably impressive, so an eighteen-year-old Hunter was bound for New Jersey.

  He knew exactly what to expect. His understanding of the world was simple and absolute. Regulars were weak and hateful. Shifters of other breeds were below wolves. Sups of other kinds, undeserving of his notice. And, above all, he was told that submissives were disgusting. Spineless. A disease that should be culled.

  And Hunter entered a world where there were no absolutes, no black and white situations. Most of the other kids at school had been regulars, but, actually, among the fifty freshmen who shared some of his classes, he encountered less than a dozen who were prejudiced against him. Most of the guys w
anted him to join their sports teams, when they allowed sups. The girls – well, regulars certainly had a thing for shifters.

  There was a witch in his lit class, who was so good as to magically duplicate her copy of Macbeth after he lost his.

  People were just...people.

  Regulars, and the sups of a non-shifting variety, didn't officially categorize themselves as dominant or submissive, but he could scent the vibes those around him emanated; there were plenty of subs. They certainly didn't seem like a plague that ought to be eliminated.

  Hunter knew what was done to subs in his pack. When they were recognized at puberty, after their first shift, most of them were killed. For the greater good, to keep the strong lines pure. He'd heard all those justifications and he'd believed them once. After his first year at school, thoughts of his home made him sick.

  What happened to the sups who weren't killed was the worst thing about the Vergas Pack. They were claimed by dominants, bought like slaves. And they were used however their owners wanted to use them.

  Arthur Force didn't own any submissives. He said they disgusted him too much to allow one in his home. So Hunter locked himself inside the house all of that summer, all the while dreading the inevitable: his father was going to want him to come out someday.

  But Arthur didn't bother; he simply didn't care. The following year, Hunter got an internship during the summer. The perfect excuse to stay away. By age twenty-five, Hunter was working on his master’s in natural science, following Professor Luther back and forth across the entire globe to study the tectonic plates.