Jake caught the scent of the pack, and turned towards it, stepping off the road and into the brush. He was going to face them on his own terms. Within a few minutes he reached a clearing. By now he could hear the other wolves closing in on him. He was surrounded; there must have been a dozen of them within a hundred feet of him by now. Their scents were like a landscape swirling around him. He could smell the earthy sweat of the betas, and the raw musk of the alpha; they were mixed with something else, a faint, sensual smell that wafted over and around the others, like it was holding them close, within reach. He could tell this scent anywhere. Magdalene, the den mother, was near.

One by one the wolves stepped out into the clearing, forming a ring around Jake. He could tell that the den mother’s scent was driving the wolves wild. She had built this pack one by one, seeking out lone, male werewolves and seducing them. She had seduced each the same way, closely tracking each before closing in. It was an endless cycle of seduction and conquest. Only a handful of her conquests had been human men, the others had been wolves she had turned into werewolves. She liked to call them the greys, and, even in their human form, they were insatiable pack animals.