Witch in a Wolf Den (Hanks Hollow Series Book 2) Read online

  WITCH IN A WOLF DEN

  HANKS HOLLOW SERIES BOOK TWO

  RACHELLE KAMPEN

  Copyright © 2022 by Rachelle Kampen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the trademarked statue and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editor: Red Adept Editing

  Proofreader: Red Adept Editing

  Cover designer: MiblArt

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  1. Rosie

  2. Sam

  3. Lucas

  4. Rosie

  5. Rosie

  6. Rosie

  7. Rosie

  8. Rosie

  9. Lucas

  10. Rosie

  11. Rosie

  12. Rosie

  13. Rosie

  14. Lucas

  15. Rosie

  16. Rosie

  17. Rosie

  18. Lucas

  19. Rosie

  20. Rosie

  21. Lucas

  22. Rosie

  23. Rosie

  24. Rosie

  25. Lucas

  26. Rosie

  27. Rosie

  28. Rosie

  29. Sam

  30. Rosie

  31. Rosie

  32. Rosie

  33. Rosie

  34. Lucas

  35. Rosie

  36. Rosie

  37. Rosie

  38. Sam

  Also by Rachelle Kampen

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  ONE

  ROSIE

  Lying on the hard ground, with her hair tangled among the pine needles, sticks, and debris, Rosie Hart was sure she was in heaven. She stretched her neck and stared up at the bright clouds that puffed along the blue expanse of sky.

  “What about that one?” she asked, pointing at a cloud that looked like a rabbit.

  Lucas’s head rested on her stomach, his hair splayed out in a halo of brown tufts over her white T-shirt. She combed her fingers through the soft locks as he squinted, trying to pick out a picture among the fluffy white marshmallows in the sky.

  “Bunny?” he asked.

  “Yep.” Rosie grinned. “I totally see a bunny.”

  The warm pressure of Lucas’s head disappeared as he sat up, and Rosie’s grin faded at the sudden loss of contact. He turned and lay on his side, propping his head up with his arm. His T-shirt rode up, exposing his skin, and Rosie reached out to tickle him. He caught her hand and laughed. A smile lingered on his face as he held on, then it dropped into a frown. “We have to get back. It’s time.”

  “Already?” Rosie squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath through her nose. “I don’t want to go back.”

  Going back to the house meant no more touching. No more kissing. No outward displays of affection. They’d gotten good at keeping their relationship a secret. Summer had passed, and no one had caught on.

  “I’m sorry, Rosie.” Lucas pressed a soft kiss to her lips as his hand skimmed her arm, leaving a tingly trail of electricity over her skin. “I don’t want to, either, but we’ve been out here for two hours. Your grandma is expecting you, and my dad will be looking for me soon.”

  “Just a little longer?”

  His mouth opened, and she thought he was going to argue. Something in his sea-blue eyes shifted as he stared into her face. Instead of speaking, he captured her mouth in his. She returned the kiss, running her fingers through his mop of thick hair.

  The primal drive took over as her desire deepened. The flames of the mate bond roared to life, and she curled her body into his. In response, he moved on top of her, trailed his hand down her side and to her hip, and pulled her closer. Heat and desire built with each soft kiss, intensifying to a level that scared and excited her, to the point that her wild wolf urges almost became uncontrollable. With a low, regretful moan, Lucas broke away, and Rosie sighed.

  As she came down from the high of their kiss, her cheeks heated. Good thing Lucas had more control over his wolf urges than she had over hers. The human side of her wasn’t ready to take the next step, and he knew that. Plus, their love was sort of forbidden.

  Rosie was the only female werewolf in existence. Normally, werewolf children were males. Her father had secretly fallen in love with a witch, and Rosie was the product of that love. Half witch. Half werewolf.

  The United States Werewolf Council had deliberated with the World Werewolf Council over what to do with her. Many wanted her to die, insisting that females had no place in the werewolf world. Her father hadn’t told them she was half-witch. If he had, her fate might have been sealed immediately. Rosie cringed knowing so many werewolves actually wanted her dead. In the end, those who believed her existence was the will of the gods—a gift given to them to replace the witches who’d abandoned them—had overruled those old-fashioned, misogynistic werewolves who believed she was an abomination.

  Not all werewolves still believed in the old stories of the Chosen—the original werewolves and witches created by the gods to protect humans. The Chosen had lived in harmony and worked together. When witch hunts started, the female Chosen—the witches—went into hiding. Without the witches, the male Chosen—werewolves—were left to find a way to grow their packs while keeping their existence a secret... or face extinction.

  Though she was glad the Council had decided to let her live, her life wasn’t her own. They had plans for her. The order was clear. She had to mate with an alpha.

  And Lucas wasn’t an alpha. At least not yet.

  “You’re going to see the Becketts today?” Rosie studied Lucas’s face.

  His soft hair fell over his dark eyebrows as he nodded. “Yeah. My training is coming along really well. Shawn is teaching me a lot.”

  “Are you sure you want to be alpha?”

  He stared into her eyes with such intensity that it made her breath seize in her lungs. “I told you. I’ll do anything to be with you. If the Council wants an alpha, I’ll be an alpha."

  Lucas Beckett and his father, Roger, were the only members of the Hart pack who weren’t part of the Hart family. Only a member of the family bloodline could become alpha. The role of future leader of the Hart pack was going to Rosie’s brother, Sam. Rosie’s father, the current alpha, did his best to prepare a reluctant Sam to take over.

  Roger and Lucas had joined the Hart pack when Lucas was six, after Roger challenged the Beckett pack alpha, Marcus Beckett, and lost. Months ago, after the Council ordered that Rosie mate with an alpha, Lucas shared with Rosie that he and his father had been meeting with the other Beckett pack members in secret ever since they’d been banished ten years ago. He’d made a promise to Rosie. He would become alpha of the Beckett pack one day.

  At only sixteen years old, she hoped she had a few years before she needed to worry about the Council forcing her hand, but she prayed Lucas would fulfill his promise before her fate was decided.

  A sudden vibration tickled Rosie’s hip, eliciting a giggle.

  Lucas rolled off her with a shy smile then fished his phone out of his pocket. “It’s my
dad. He says it’s time to go.”

  Dirt and dead pine needles littered the back of Lucas’s old Misfits T-shirt and faded jeans as he stood. He turned toward Rosie, letting his eyes drift over her before extending his hand. Rosie laced her fingers through his, and he pulled her up to her feet. Over the summer, he’d grown at least three inches. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. When she rested against him, her ear pressed over his heart, and the soft beat soothed her.

  A low chuckle rumbled in Lucas’s chest.

  “What’s so funny?” Rosie looked up into his amused gaze.

  “You have sticks in your hair.”

  Rosie ducked her head bashfully, and her hand flew to her head. As she finger-combed her curls, she plucked out a twig. She smiled as Lucas helped her get out the rest of the debris.

  “I think we got it all,” Lucas said as he inspected her tangled curls.

  Puffing his cheeks, he blew a long, slow breath out through his mouth as he trained his brilliant blue eyes on her. She slipped her fingers into his outstretched hand, and they stepped through the trees toward the house. When they neared the edge of the forest, Rosie reluctantly dropped Lucas’s hand before they reached the sprawling, open yard behind Hart House.

  She patted her oak tree as they passed it, and she felt the answering vibration of life from her old friend as the branches rustled, the leaves softly brushing her cheek in greeting.

  Silently, they crossed the lawn. Blades of grass swished against Rosie’s bare feet. They entered the house through the back patio door, which led to the formal dining room, where her father sat at the head of the twelve-person table. He looked more formidable than usual, with a coffee cup in one hand and his tablet in the other. Probably reading through the local news as he did most mornings.

  When he glanced up as they entered, his eyes narrowed. “Good morning, Rosie, Lucas. Did you enjoy your hike?”

  They’d been going for “hikes” every morning since the start of the summer. As far as anyone in the pack house knew, they were just out walking together, nothing more. Rosie’s father couldn’t find out about their relationship. As alpha, he had a duty to uphold the Council’s wishes in his pack.

  Rosie was pretty sure Sam knew something was going on between them, but so far, he hadn’t said a word. He’d joined them on a few of their hikes, and the awkward silence spoke volumes. Her brother wasn’t stupid.

  “It was great. Thanks, Dad.” Rosie gave her father a kiss on the cheek before she sat down next to him.

  Behind her, Lucas cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. It was a great morning for a hike.”

  “Too bad you kids won’t be able to get your daily exercise once school starts next week.”

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Rosie dreaded the start of the school year. Not just because summer would be over but also because she would be forced to face the ugly rumors flying around about her. The rumors that she’d thrown herself at Mason Lewis.

  It was bad enough she’d been labeled a freak her entire life. Now she had the label of slutty freak. Her best friend, Becca Miller, had done a lot of damage control. Unlike Rosie, Becca was a social butterfly. Everyone’s friend. She’d all but screamed from the rooftops that Mason was a lying jerk.

  The truth was that Mason had tried to force himself on Rosie, and she hated thinking about what might have happened if Lucas hadn’t shown up and broken Mason’s nose before it went too far. Rosie shivered as the memories from that night came crashing down on her. What almost happened. And what she learned. She’d been fooled into thinking Mason shared her interest in wildlife. In truth, he was a killer. His interest had nothing to do with a love of animals and nature and everything to do with seeing what he could stuff and mount on a wall.

  Rosie had nothing against hunting in general. As a werewolf, she’d done her fair share of killing. But Mason and his father didn’t hunt for the purpose of conservation, population control, or food. Their trophy room was full of mounted deer heads and pelts laid out on display. When Rosie had laid eyes on the wolf stuffed and mounted to a pedestal, she nearly lost her lunch. Even worse was listening to the way Mason described the thrill of the hunt, like he was aroused by it. The memory left her stomach roiling even now.

  “Hey.” Lucas touched her elbow. “I have to go. My father is waiting. You good?”

  Shaking off her thoughts and trying to mask her hurt and fear, she smiled. “I’m good. Have a fun afternoon with Roger.”

  Another secret to be kept from Rosie’s father. He couldn’t know about Roger and Lucas’s monthly meetings with the Beckett pack. Not when they were hiding it from Marcus Beckett. It would be asking too much of Simon to withhold that kind of information from another alpha. Instead, each month when Roger and Lucas took a day off to meet with the Beckett pack, they told Simon they were out for some father-son bonding time.

  As Lucas left, Rosie turned to her father. A tiny trace of crow’s-feet formed around his eyes as he scowled at his tablet. His tanned features, honey-brown hair, and large, muscular build had all the ladies in the PTA swooning.

  “I need to go too. Grandma is waiting.” Over the summer, Rosie had been trying to visit her grandmother at least once a week. The time had paid off. Her magic strengthened every day, and Clara helped her control it.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Simon cleared his throat. “Sam has been complaining about you taking the SUV every week to go see your grandma.”

  “What? Dad, I can’t ask Grandma to come and pick me up here. That’s not fair—”

  “Ah, Rosie, stop. I’m not going to make your grandma drive here to get you.”

  Rosie scrunched her face up in confusion. “Then what are you saying?”

  Simon sighed. “I’m saying we need to get you your own car.”

  “What?” Rosie squealed. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.” Her father scowled, and she could feel his irritation as she jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around him. Simon hated flaunting their money. “But you aren’t getting a new one. Michael already has the truck for hauling supplies for the rentals, so he really doesn’t need his Jeep too. He’s going to give it a tune-up first. It will be ready for you by the time you start school on Monday.”

  Rosie’s cousin, Michael, took care of all the vehicles owned by the pack. The Wrangler was his favorite, and he took good care of it. It didn’t matter what kind of car it was, though. The idea of not having to argue with Sam about who got to use their shared Ford Explorer had her on cloud nine. “Did Sam say he needs the SUV today? If so, I can ask Roger and Lucas if they’ll drop me off at Grandma’s.”

  “Sam won’t be needing a vehicle today. I need him here.”

  “Hm.” Rosie pursed her lips. “Pack business?”

  Simon nodded. “William and Calvin Cramer are stopping by.”

  Her eyes widened. William Cramer was alpha to the neighboring Cramer pack. Calvin was his son. Packs didn’t just drop in on one another. Opening herself up to her father’s energy, she felt his worry pour over her. She reached out hesitantly, wanting to calm him with the touch of her fingers, but she pulled her hand back. Her father tended to like to stew in his emotions. She’d never tried to use her calming touch on him. “What do they want?”

  “I don’t know. But don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Well, now I’m really glad I’m going to Grandma’s.” Rosie shuddered as she thought about the Cramers’ last visit. “No offense, but you couldn’t pay me enough to be here today.”

  Half an hour later, Rosie pulled into the driveway of her grandmother’s little cottage on the outskirts of Hanks Hollow. Summer annuals blossomed in an array of colors in baskets along the porch and in carefully placed displays planted in the ground on either side of the gated walkway leading to the front steps. Their fragrance mingled with pine from the forest. When the breeze picked up on hot, humid summer days, it carried the fishy smell of the lake behind the house.
br />   As expected, Clara was busying herself among the flowers. A bright-red dress with pink plaid stripes flowed over her solid form, and her long gray hair was gathered in a bun under a big sunhat.

  “There she is.” Clara stopped what she was doing to give Rosie a hug as she stepped into the garden. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

  “Of course I came. I told you I’d be here.”

  Holding her gaze for a moment, Clara narrowed her eyes. “Hm. Glad you could pry yourself away from Lucas long enough to come and visit your grandma.”

  “W-What?” She tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Rose Hart. You’re in love. It pours out of you. You’ve been in love all summer.”

  It was useless to lie to her grandmother. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

  “Why haven’t you said anything? I’m a little hurt that I had to call you out.” Clara went back to watering her begonias. Little red flowers magically bloomed as she ran her fingers over the plants.

  “We haven’t told anyone. I don’t want my dad to know. He could get in trouble with the Council—”

  “Psh.” Clara flicked her hand. “A bunch of arrogant old assholes who think they can control everyone’s lives.”

  “I have to do what they say, Grandma. If I don’t, they might kill me.”