Feral Fates | A Fated Mates Wolf Shifter Romance | PAPERBACK

Blood.

It pools beneath my bare feet, dark and warm against ancient stone. I try to step back, but my legs won’t obey. The scream builds in my throat. Terror or triumph, I can’t tell which.

A massive shadow moves at the edge of my vision. I can’t see it, but I know it’s fixed its gaze on me with an intensity that should terrify me. Should. But the fear bleeding through me feels wrong, misplaced. As if I’m afraid of the wrong thing entirely.

The shadow speaks, voice rough as granite grinding. “Mine.”

I reach toward him, fingers trembling, desperate to touch—

—and he’s gone. The blood, the stone, the burning eyes. All of it, gone.

What remains is worse. Silver chains bite into my wrists, cold fire against skin. I’m alone, cut off from everything warm and alive, floating in a void that tastes of metal and despair. A woman’s voice echoes from somewhere I can’t see.

“It ends here.”

I jolt back to consciousness, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged bird. The rough bark of the ancient oak bites into my spine as I press against it. My hands shake as I press them to my face, feeling the wetness on my cheeks.

Blood and tears. 

The visions always leave me like this, hollow and aching, with fragments of futures I can’t quite grasp rattling around in my skull like broken glass. 

I scramble in my pocket for a handkerchief, pressing it to my bleeding nose. 

Blood and shadow. Silver and chains. And that voice...

“Mine.”

The word echoes in my mind, and I shiver. 

Whose voice was that?

I drag in a shuddering breath, forcing myself to focus on the present. The annual Claiming ceremony will begin soon. I can hear the other females’ excited chatter and nervous laughter drifting through the trees. 

For them, tonight represents possibility of being chosen by a strong male who’ll value and love them.

For me, it represents the inevitable.

Every unmated female must run, and the males will give chase. Whoever catches you becomes your mate—no exceptions, no appeals. 

No escape. 

I close my eyes, seeking calm. The wolf within me reaches out, nuzzling me gently with a wave of calm. 

A mate cannot harm you. 

The ceremony exists to ensure the survival and strength of the pack. In our world, a female may hold knowledge, skill, and even influence, but at its core, our society is still ruled by the strength of its males. If you haven’t been claimed by the time you come of age, you’re required to participate in each Claiming until a mate takes you. Because an unclaimed female is seen as a resource left untapped. And every resource must serve the pack.

I close my eyes, trying to make sense of the vision’s fragments. The blood, was it mine? The shadow with burning eyes, friend or enemy? And those silver chains...

A chill runs down my spine. Silver suppresses wolf gifts. If someone bound me with silver chains, I’d lose access to my visions entirely. I’d be truly useless then. 

I shake my head, frustrated with myself. Visions aren’t prophecy, they’re possibilities. Fragments of potential futures that may never come to pass. I’ve learned not to trust them too completely, especially when they’re as chaotic as this one.

A twig snaps behind me. 

“Well, well... what do we have here? A little kitten trying to hide from the big bad wolves?”

Our pack’s most lethal enforcer towers over me, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, a wall of violence barely contained by skin. His blond hair is cropped short, neat and orderly, a sharp contrast to the chaos he brings. He uses his bulk like a weapon, cornering, crowding, crushing.

His voice drips mockery, his presence pressing in. Kieran doesn’t just enforce pack law, he is the punishment. His steel-gray eyes lock onto mine with predatory focus, and I feel my throat go dry. When he smiles, it’s slow and sharp, full of teeth and threats.

“I’m not hiding,” I lie, lifting my chin despite my trembling legs. 

His laugh is dark velvet. “No? You’re certainly acting like it, crouching here in the shadows, ready to scatter at the first sign of danger.” He leans down, bringing his face close to mine. “But we both know there’s no hiding, don’t we, Kitara?”

I can’t stop the shiver that runs down my spine.

“The ceremony begins soon,” he says, reaching out to brush a fallen leaf from my hair. The casual touch sends cold dread racing along my skin. The wolf within me bristles, but we both know she’s unable to protect me. 

“I’d recommend finding a better hiding spot than this, kitten. Unless...” His smirk widens. “You want me to catch you.”

My stomach turns at his words. For the past few weeks, Kieran has been my constant shadow. He’s Alpha Varick’s chosen enforcer, tasked with keeping me in line. Every time I left my room, he was there. Every time I was forced to speak to a wolf from another pack, he appeared. He’s made it his mission to remind me daily that I belong to the Silvercrest Pack.

To him.

“Alpha Varick has chosen me as your mate,” he tells me, crowding me into the tree. “No more games, no more delays.” His fingers trace my cheek, and I see the cruel intent in his eyes. “I know how to make you behave, little seer.”

All will be well, my wolf says once more. A mate cannot harm you.

But I know better. I’ve seen the bruises on claimed females, heard the whispered stories of mates who view their bonds as ownership. A claiming mark doesn’t guarantee kindness.

Besides, I’m nothing but a broken wolf with little to offer a pack. I’ve always known my place. I’m the seer who can’t shift.

The vision flickers once more at the edges of my consciousness—blood, hot and crimson, a dark silhouette, eyes watching from shadows—I push it away before it can take hold. I can’t afford the weakness now, can’t risk collapsing in front of Kieran, and each vision has the potential to leave me bleeding and shaking for days.

I meet Kieran’s gaze directly, remembering the burning eyes from my vision.  “What if you’re not meant to catch me?”

His expression darkens. “Who else will want you?” He laughs, but there’s an edge to it now. “You’ll learn your place soon enough.”

Before I can respond, a howl pierces the night—the signal for all females to take their positions. Kieran’s eyes flash amber as his wolf stirs just beneath the surface.

“Run well, little Kit,” he growls. “But know this—no matter where you hide tonight, I will catch you. I’ve seen how you move, how you think... and unlike the others, I know exactly what that pretty little head of yours can do. You’re mine, kitten. You just don’t know it yet.”

With those words hanging in the air between us, he melts into the shadows, leaving me trembling against the ancient oak.

If he catches me tonight, I’ll never be free.

Please, Mother Wolf. Help me.

I close my eyes, seeking calm. Instead, my earliest memory surfaces, my mother’s face crumpling in disappointment during my first attempted shift. While other pups exploded into fur and fang with pure joy, I remained stubbornly human. No matter how hard I tried, my wolf stayed locked away, just out of reach.

“Again,” my father demanded, his patience wearing thinner each time at my childish attempts. “Focus.”

But focusing wasn’t the problem. Even as a toddler, I could feel her, my wolf, coiled tight inside me, fierce and wild. I could sense her power, her heartbeat echoing mine. My wolf wasn’t silent. She spoke in instincts, howled behind my ribs when danger neared. She simply couldn’t shift. Her body—our body—wasn’t built for the change.

The healers called it a curse. The elders called it a weakness. Until I turned seven. 

I breathe out slowly and step forward, feet crunching over dried pine needles. The air is thick with tension. Wolves gather, murmuring, waiting for the moon to rise and the challenge to begin. My stomach flips as I move through them, head high, spine locked tight with practiced calm.

They can smell my fear. Taste my difference. 

But they don’t know the whole of it. Not yet. 

The first time I saw death was in a vision.

It had come to me as I stood watching the pack’s hunters prepare for a raid on Redclaw territory. Pups my age had drifted between the hunter’s legs as they listened to Alpha Varick outline their plans. 

I’d watched them, aching to be included. To feel as connected and whole as they were. Then my world had turned white before snapping into sharp contrast in a time and place unlike our own. 

A shadow at the edge of the woods. A warning on the wind. I screamed for the others to run, but they didn’t listen and the trap sprung. 

I woke from my faint, bloody, shaking, screaming warnings until my throat became raw and my tears stopped flowing.

They didn’t believe me at first. But when Varick sent scouts ahead, they found exactly what I’d seen—a massacre avoided because of my gift. 

In that moment, everything changed. The disgust in my parents’ eyes transformed into something far worse—cold calculation. 

I was no longer just the girl without a wolf. I was the girl who knew things she shouldn’t.

Naked females hurry past, jostling me in their haste. I follow suit, folding each piece of clothing carefully with shaking hands.

My only hope lies in being caught by a wolf from another pack, I think, placing my clothes at the base of a tree. But who is powerful enough to stand against Kieran?

The grass is cold under my bare feet as I step forward. The last of the trees part, and the grove opens before me, a perfect circle of ancient oaks with the claiming stone at its center. Torches flicker around its edges, casting long, swaying shadows across the crowd. The Claiming has drawn alphas and unmated males from four territories. I feel their hungry, assessing stares as I enter.

Naked. Human. Alone.

I’ve never felt more vulnerable.

They shift with ease, fur rippling, claws unsheathing, muscles snapping into new forms. I remain bare, bound to skin and bone. I cannot transform like them, can’t shed this fragile flesh for the armor of fang and fury. My gift has always made me valuable, but safety is not a luxury provided by it. 

You’ll see, my she-wolf whispers. 

I scan the grove, heart pounding. Goose bumps rise along my arms despite the heat of the torches. The ground feels too wide. The sky too low. There are too many eyes, and claws, and teeth.

They’re not seeking us to mate, I tell her. They want to control our gift. 

She nuzzles me, her presence warm and reassuring. A mate cannot harm. She’s calm. Certain. She doesn’t understand because wolves are simple creatures. Honest, instinctive. When they love, they love wholly. When they choose, they do so without games or cruelty. They know their mates the moment they catch their scent at the Claiming. They enter, expecting to chase down their soul match.

It’s an urge that is primitive and wild, anchored in the body and soul. 

A wolf can be trusted to find their mate, to value her in body, mind, and soul. 

But it’s not the wolf I fear. It’s the men.

It’s the wolves who wear fur but think like men—calculating, manipulative, always seeking to take rather than cherish. It’s the human minds inside that want my gift, not my heart.

My she-wolf doesn’t understand. And why would she? She’s a creature of moonlight and bone-deep devotion. 

She believes in mates. I believe in betrayal.

The wind shifts, carrying whispers to my ears. 

“My Alpha demands I claim the seer. But she’s weak and old,” one of them tells a friend, his voice laced with disdain. “Barely worth the effort.”

I stiffen, the sting of his words sharper than I expect. At twenty-five, I’m considered long overdue for claiming, my worth already bartered down to scraps. To them, I am a cracked cup, barely useful enough to drink from.

My wolf growls inside me, but I quiet her.

Now would be a great time to show me what happens next, I tell her.

She just yawns and curls up, her ears twitching. All will be well.

I can’t see my own future, or the futures of the people I care about most. My visions don’t work that way. They skip over the things closest to me, as if my own story isn’t important. 

It’s why my pack kept their distance. Why I’ve lived a solitary life. Because if I can’t see them, then I become useless. 

“She is weak,” another wolf agrees, “but her gift is of value. If she bears pups, there’s a chance they’ll inherit it.”

A low hum of approval ripples across the air, terrifying me. 

“She wouldn’t be a true mate,” someone says, their voice calculating. “Too weak to take the mating we crave. She’d be a breeding opportunity, a runty fuck before seeking your satisfaction elsewhere.”

“My Alpha promised me a second mate upon her death. But only after I’ve had her push out a pup or two.” 

My stomach turns, a bitter taste flooding my mouth. They don’t see me as a person—just a vessel. A means to an end.

I turn my head to study the packs, considering what I know of them through word, deed, and vision.

The Moonclaw Pack’s alpha, Xavier Drake, stands with his enforcers, their silver-tipped hair marking them even in human form. Their territory borders ours to the east, and they’ve long coveted our river access. I’ve been forced to spy on them countless times and know the hunger in Xavier’s eyes when he looks at me isn’t just for my body—it’s for the strategic advantage my gift would bring.

The Red River Pack clusters near them, their Alpha Female, Selena Peachut, watching the unmated women with calculating eyes. Her pack is known for its female leadership and fierce independence. In another life, I might have sought refuge with them, but they’re pragmatic to a fault. They wouldn’t offer their protection without demanding a high payment. 

The Grayback Pack holds the high ground near the ceremonial stone, fitting for a pack that rules the northern mountains. Their alpha, Darius Vale, is known for breeding some of the largest, most physically powerful wolves in the territories. His pack’s trademark gray fur and massive size make them easy to spot among the gathered wolves. I’ve heard he’s particularly interested in my gift—the Grayback Pack has a history of producing berserker wolves, and a seer’s ability to predict their violent episodes would be invaluable.

Grayback, I decide, turning away from the gathered packs. If I must be claimed, let it be from the Grayback clan. They have little interest in politics and despite their berserker ways, seem to treat their females well.

I turn away when a new scent cuts through the air, dancing across my nostrils. It’s like earth and smoke, like rain on stone, sharp enough to steal my breath.

My wolf stirs, ears pricking. Her nostrils flare, then her hope catches in my chest.

Mate.

The word isn’t thought. It’s known. Bone-deep. A truth that hums through me like a string pulled tight.

I whirl, searching for him among the crowd. But the wind shifts, taking the scent with it before I can find its source.

A howl sounds, low and commanding.

Grand Alpha Thaddeus steps forward, his white ceremonial cloak pooling around his feet like mist. His voice is calm and cold, designed to carry. “We gather tonight for the Claiming. Let us begin.”

The words send a jolt through me. Too soon. Too fast.

He lifts a hand, and the packs begin shifting, growls rippling through the grove as the unmated males tense, their hunger rising.

No. Not yet.

The bond in my chest hums, my wolf straining. 

They’re here, she tells me. Find them. 

Grand Alpha Thaddeus gestures with his hand. “I call on the alphas of the four packs represented here to—” 

A growl, deep and violent, tears through the clearing like thunder cracking stone. Wolves stumble back. Darkness moves at the edge of the firelight, and the hair on the back of my neck rises.

And then I see him.

Ryker Ashmere, alpha of the Shadowmist Pack, emerges from the trees like a nightmare given form. Towering and scarred, his bare chest displays a map of violence survived—claw marks, bite wounds, and the distinctive silvery lines of wounds that should have killed any normal wolf. One eye burns amber gold, the other a blood crimson that seems to glow in the firelight.

Unlike the other alphas who affect a civilized appearance, he embraces his savage nature. His black hair falls wild to his shoulders, threaded with gray at the temples. Each step is calculated and lethal, like a predator perpetually on the edge of violence. The shadows themselves seem to cling to him, writhing around his feet like living things.

Whispers erupt around me.

“The Shadowmist wolves weren’t supposed to be here...”

“They haven’t participated in a Claiming ceremony in decades...”

“He’s even more terrifying than the stories...”

I’ve heard those stories since childhood, how as a pup not much older than myself he slaughtered his way through three rival packs in a single night, how he drinks the blood of his enemies, how even silver wounds can’t stop him.

Not him, I think, instinctively stepping back. Anyone would be better than him.

His gaze sweeps the grove, and for one heart-stopping moment, locks onto mine. Recognition flickers as his nostrils flare. A cold wave washes over me, not a vision but something equally powerful—a certainty that my fate has just been sealed.

I look away, forcing myself to focus on the ceremony. My own pack, the Silvercrest, stands closest to the stone, though our position feels shaky. We’ve always controlled the least land, but that was before my gift showed up. Now Alpha Varick plays a dangerous game, having used my power to raise our pack’s standing. Tonight, he stands to lose me entirely, if Kieran or another of the unmated enforcers fail.

Grand Alpha Thaddeus stands on the claiming stone, power rolling off him in waves that make the torchlight flicker. His white hair catches the moonlight like fresh snow, the scars across his face silver in the darkness. Ancient magic clings to him like a cloak, a reminder that he is more than just a political leader, he is the voice of the Moon Goddess herself.

“All who would compete, step forward.” His voice shakes the ground itself. “Present your offerings for the right to hunt tonight.”

As ruler of all the territories, the Grand Alpha’s word is law. He keeps peace between the packs, settles disputes over land, and makes sure our oldest traditions are followed. Every alpha must bow to him or risk losing their pack’s standing. 

Or worse, their life.

This is why the alphas approach one by one, each knowing that their offerings aren’t just for the hunt, but for Thaddeus’s favor. 

Xavier of Moonclaw steps forward first. “We offer thirty percent shares in our southern tech company and exclusive hunting rights to the river valley for three years, Grand Alpha,” he says smoothly. “And request six of our sons be allowed to run.”

Thaddeus’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Accepted.”

Selena follows, her red hair—a symbol of the Red River wolves—catches the firelight. “Five million in cash and twenty percent of our diamond mining profits for the next five years to the Grand Pack,” she states confidently. “For five of our hunters to participate.”

“Accepted.”

Darius Vale’s massive form towers over the others as the Grayback alpha speaks. “Four of our trained security teams at your disposal for special assignments, Grand Alpha, along with our new mountain resort’s penthouse suite for your personal use.” His voice rumbles like distant thunder. “We ask the right to run four of our strongest.”

“Accepted.”

When Alpha Varick steps forward, tension crackles through the grove. His steps are slower, shoulders tight. The weight of eyes and whispers trails him like smoke. Before he can speak, Thaddeus raises a hand.

“Make your offer generous, Alpha Varick.” His tone is icy. Controlled. Deadly. “You’ve committed a grave offense, hiding a seer from the packs.” 

Varick had kept me hidden for years. He would have continued to do so, if not for the Grand Pack’s enforcers catching my scent when they’d come to summon the unmated females to the Claiming. After that, hiding wasn’t an option.

I watch Varick duck his head. He’s tall, broad through the shoulders, with graying hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. His clothes are rich, showing a wolf who rules with pride and confidence—or he did. Tonight there’s a crack noticeable in the way his jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes flick nervously to the crowd, then to Thaddeus.

Strength and confidence mean little when the Grand Alpha’s judgment has already turned against you.

I shrink back, trying to stay hidden within the crowd, but it’s too late. Thaddeus’s gaze sweeps the grove and locks onto me. His nostrils flare as he confirms my scent, and a smile touches his lips.

“Bring forth the seer,” he commands.

The crowd parts like water, leaving me exposed. Bare feet, bare skin, bare soul. I stand frozen as all eyes turn to me.

“So this is her?” Thaddeus’s voice carries across the silent grove. “A seer who cannot shift. Step forward, girl.”

My legs move without my permission, carrying me toward the claiming stone. I feel the weight of a hundred stares burning into my skin. 

I stop at the base of the stone, looking up at Thaddeus. This close, I can see the cruel intelligence in his pale eyes.

“Your name?” he asks.

“Kitara,” I whisper, then clear my throat and speak louder. “Kitara Silverbrook.”

He circles me slowly, like a wolf inspecting prey. “Show us your gift, seer.”

Fear claws at my throat. “I-it doesn’t work like that.”

“Try,” he says, and it’s not a request.

I close my eyes, reaching for the currents of possibility that sometimes wash through me. Nothing comes. Only darkness.

“I’m sorry, I—” 

His hand shoots out, gripping my chin with bruising force. “Look at me.”

Our eyes meet, and the world falls away. My body goes rigid, my head snapping back. The familiar burning starts behind my eyes, spreading through my skull like wildfire. Someone gasps, maybe me, maybe the crowd. When I speak again, it’s not my voice that comes out, but it’s a feminine voice far older and deeper, as though the Moon Goddess herself speaks through me. 

“The crown will fall, the throne will shatter. You shall kneel, throat bared to the prince with eyes that pierce truths. Some howl in rage, others in triumph, but all will bow to the new order when darkness claims what was promised.”

Blood trickles from my nose, metallic on my tongue. The ground sways beneath me as the vision releases its grip. The grove has gone deadly silent, every wolf frozen in shock.

Thaddeus’s face has gone pale. “What does it mean?” he hisses, his hand now trembling against my skin.

I blink, confused. “I... I don’t know. That’s not how a vision works.” 

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. A prophecy spoken aloud cannot be taken back. The Moon Goddess has declared a truth that will come to pass, no matter what any wolf might do to prevent it.

“Who?” Thaddeus demands, his voice cutting through the ringing in my ears.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I didn’t see any one wolf. Just... shadows. Fragments.”

Thaddeus studies me, suspicion in his eyes before tossing me away. “You must run tonight, but know this—our business is not yet complete.” He turns, dismissing me in the same movement as he approaches Varick. “Now. Your offering?”

Varick ducks his head. “I offer my vote on the Alpha Council to the Grand Alpha’s appointed heir and double tithings for two years. In exchange we ask to run four wolves.” 

A low murmur ripples through the gathering. 

Varick’s offering is no small thing. Giving up his Council seat and promising double tithings will cripple the pack for years. It’s a sacrifice born of desperation, not honor.

Thaddeus smiles, slow and sharp. “I accept, but in punishment for concealing the seer, you may run only one wolf.” 

A muscle in Varick’s jaw twitches but he nods, accepting his punishment.  

The wind brings me the scent of the wolf meant for me, and once again, the bond in my chest tugs—harder this time—a reminder that somewhere among the gathered is my mate.

May they be strong and kind. 

My wolf nuzzles me, reassuring me that they will be everything we’ve hoped for. 

Thaddeus turns to the Shadowmist alpha. “And what do the Shadowmist wolves offer?”

Ryker’s laugh is as dark and humorless. “We offer nothing. Our debt has already been paid in the blood we’ve shed in your great war, old wolf. We will run five wolves, one for each of the lives given by my pack.”

The air crackles with tension. No one speaks to the Grand Alpha this way. But Thaddeus merely nods, though his eyes narrow dangerously.

“The old debt is honored... one final time.”

Mara, an unmated female, shifts beside me, her golden wolf already rippling beneath her skin. “Ready to run, little prophet?” Her smile is cruel. “Or should I say, ready to stumble?”

My fingers tremble as I stand naked among the other females, watching as they shift into their wolf forms. I might not be able to change, but I refuse to show fear. “I can still run.”

“Not fast enough,” she laughs, then throws back her head as her wolf bursts forth.

The first howl comes—the signal to take positions. I move to the edge of the grove with the others, my bare feet already aching against the rough ground. Behind us, I hear the males gathering, their energy wild and hungry.

I risk one glance back. Kieran stands at the front of the Silvercrest hunters, his eyes locked on me with possessive intent. The Moonclaw wolves flank him, their silver-tipped fur catching the moonlight. Grayback’s massive gray wolves pace behind them, nearly twice the size of normal wolves. The Red River Pack spreads out strategically, clearly planning to control the chase paths.

Only the Shadowmist wolves remain in the darkness. I catch glimpses of scarred black fur, of eyes that seem to glow in the shadows. And before them stands their alpha, his gaze locked on me. 

My pulse spikes.

“Don’t look at him,” Kieran calls across the grove. “You’re mine, little seer.” 

A cold jolt zips down my spine. I whirl toward the chase trails, yanking my focus forward.

Adrenaline floods my system, fire licking beneath my skin. My limbs vibrate, tense and twitching, caught between fight and flight. The scent of moss and loam hits me. Every nerve is alight, screaming run, run, run.

The second howl pierces the night.

Time to choose my path. I know these woods, have memorized every bend, every hidden dip, every trick root that might snap an ankle.

But knowing a maze doesn’t mean you’ll outrun the monster inside it.

And Kieran knows them too. 

My only chance is to do the unexpected. Something no one would predict.

As the moon crests the horizon, bathing the grove in light, a third howl splits the night. 

The Claiming has begun.

I run.

🌶🌶🌶🌶 – Open-door, explicit scenes with emotional vulnerability and feral heat. Expect knotting, possessive growling, primal attraction, and high-stakes intimacy forged through survival. Think: silver chains, whispered promises through stone walls, and a bond too dangerous to deny.

Series Features:

• Forced Proximity
• Feral Bond / Fated Mate
• Captivity Survival
• Betrayal and Revenge
• Powerful Heroines and Broken Alphas
• Morally Grey

Content Information:

Includes themes of captivity, violence, past trauma, PTSD, feral mating instincts, swearing, and explicit consensual sex. See content note at the front of the book for full details.

For fans of Suzanne Wright, Jaymin Eve, Roxie Ray, and steamy, blood-and-bond shifter romances where the the mating is primal, the Alphas are feral, and the only rule is survive together or die alone.