Marked (Pacific Northwest Shifters #3) - Reese Knightley

Alister

He’d been born for greatness and he’d known instinctively from the first moment he’d opened his eyes that he held power.

As a young boy, he was taught to harness that power and knew it came with great responsibility.

Born from the union of a formidable witch and powerful wizard, his gifts held an abundance of potential, some of which had yet to be tapped.

He drew on the gifts he knew of to help him now.

With his palm flat against the earth, he closed his eyes. Every nuance of sound from the forest came to him; the earthworms, the murmur of the roots that held the trees tied to the earth, birds and insects plus something else.

It was midnight, but Alister could clearly see the other’s bright silhouette behind his eyelids.

Little did the other know that he knew exactly who’d been tracking him.

“Seer,” he muttered and launched skyward.

The blast of light barely missed him and before he could land on the ground, he morphed into a raven and zoomed upward.

A net tossed high settled over his head and caught in his wings. Plunging to the ground, he slammed hard into the earth.

Son of a bitch! He was going to kill him!

Morphing, he spat out a wad of leaves and evaporated the net from over his head.

Ralston Seer stood over him. “Alister.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, and stood up to brush the leaves and dirt from his pants.

“Tracking you,” the warlock smirked. “What made you think you could outrun me?”

“You’re joking.” He narrowed his eyes and flicked a hand at the warlock.

“Glunk.”

Alister bent down and eyed the slimy green toad. “Go back to Pethious and tell him I’ll check in when I can.”

“Glunk.”

“And don’t ever attack me again,” he warned, picking a leaf out of his hair.

“Glunk!”

Alister stood upright and waved a dismissive hand.

Ralston changed from a toad to a human and fell on his ass in the dirt.

“Damn it!” The warlock jumped to his feet with an angry scowl. “I said outrun! Not stronger magic,” Ralston bitched, brushing at his shirt.

“You seriously think you’re faster than me?” He locked eyes with Ralston.

The warlock sighed and after a long, tense moment, Ralston lowered his gaze and gave him a short bow.

“What happened to us?” Ralston questioned.

“There has never been an us,” Alister returned, narrowing his eyes.

“Why won’t you see that our union would benefit everyone?”

“And you most of all,” he charged back.

Ralston clenched his teeth and the muscle in the attractive warlock’s jaw ticked.

“Make yourself useful and send Ian.”

Ralston’s eyes narrowed, more from his dismissive tone rather than his intense dislike of Ian.

“I can stay and help…”

“No.”

“Give us a chance.”

“Be gone,” he said, tired of the repeated conversation. “Tell Pethious, I’ll be in touch.”

“Alister!” Ralston called out, but he’d already taken flight.

“Send Ian!” he shouted back. Yes, he could talk in raven form if he chose.

He gave Seer no further thought as he zoomed toward Jonas’ homestead.

Jonas Welsh, the leader of the West Region Shifters, and his wolf pack were missing and had been for several days.

Reaching the alpha pack’s homestead, he let the wind catch his wings. Hovering over the area, he scouted the ranch from above before he cautiously landed and changed into human form.

Stalking the length of the porch, he stilled. The broken door stood cracked open. He eased it wide with the flat of his palm. The wood creaked as it swung on one hinge.

He carefully picked his way through the trash on the floor. Tables and chairs had been toppled over, the cushions of the couch were shredded, and white stuffing littered the room. Broken dishes covered the counter and floor and a pan of burnt food sat on the stove.

He crouched and lifted a blood-stained towel from the floor. The room told its own story. Jonas and his pack had been attacked there. They’d either run from the mages or made this their last stand.

Spinning around, he headed outside to look for bodies. Walking the perimeter, he found several dead mages and two hunters before he found wolf tracks leading out of the area. Thank the powers.

While Jonas didn’t have a big pack, they still made a numerous group and it showed in the multiple paw prints when they shifted. He followed the tracks into the woods, moving north on foot for a few moments, and then he morphed.

Soaring upward, he banked hard and came in low over the treetops, searching for any signs of the pack.

He knew Jonas. If his wolves were in