United. (Book 5 of the Lupus Antiqua Series)

The Umbra were impressive. In his lifetime he hadn't had much cause to run across them, but he'd heard rumor of them. They tended to be favored by the True Witches because they so rarely had sons.

It was easy to assume that they were less than, and for a time had been treated as such because they lacked the raw force of power that their female counterparts have.

But the fact was, they were the favored and precious sons of a society that saw too few males of their own kind. Most True Witches mated another supernatural who could match their lifetimes. More rarely a human. So men born with the Witch line and power were precious.

But they didn't act coddled. They were lethal. He stood next to Kyle as they observed the Umbra training. Their hand to hand prowess was impressive. They easily equaled werewolves in a fight, even without a beast form. That was the nature of their magic.

He understood better now, why they had accepted the rogue werewolves. His kind was on par with the Umbra, and werewolves would make excellent bodyguards, which was the primary function of Umbra. Well, those that didn't enlist in the War College, anyway.

He could find nothing wrong with their technique, and he was enjoying watching them spar when the wind shifted and he scented it on the wind. Rogues.

He turned and watched as they made their way to the practice field he stood at the edge of. There were twenty just as Kyle said. They ranged from older and graying to barely out of boyhood.

As they walked they did so with familiarity and camaraderie, but he could sense the undercurrent running through the group. Unsettled. They were not a true pack. They had no true cohesion. Unnatural. He stood straighter, trying to mask his surprise.

That quiet voice. He hadn't heard it since he'd been banished. The Moon Goddess. He eyed the rogue men and he knew why he was needed here. His Mate had her mission, and now he'd found his. These men. They needed him. And he would be lying if he claimed not to want a pack again.

He allowed a growl to rumble through his chest and out his throat, deep, penetrating and pulsing with power. As soon as he did the entire group froze, almost as one and all their eyes turned towards him. Even the Umbra sparring in the field halted to see what would happen.

The group of men began to argue amongst themselves. Pathetic. After a few minutes the eldest of them took point and they made their way over. The older man had dark hair that was gray on the sides, skin beginning to show signs of real age, and there was a certain fading edge to him that indicated he would not be strong much longer. The old wolf was nearing his natural end.

He was not the strongest of them. They'd put him in charge because he knew more. The rest of them, though big and strong and better able to fight, were eyeing Endymion with fear and uncertainty. He realized in that moment they had never seen an Alpha before. He fought back the pity he felt for them. Now was not the time for it. Now was the time to show them who he was.

The old wolf halted a few feet from Endymion.

"Greetings, your Majesty." Endymion smirked.

"I appreciate your respect. But I am King no longer." He didn't see the point in hiding the truth. "I acted with dishonor and rightly lost what I had." The beginnings of respect bloomed on the faces of the men before him.

"I know. But you're a Lupus Antiqua. It's nearly the same thing." The old man shrugged and the younger ones nodded, all except the largest of them, who was eyeing Endymion up and down, assessing. Ah. He will be the one to challenge me. Endymion thought.

"I have come here with my fated Mate. A True Witch who is now attending the War College. I have been brought here to lead you." Endymion murmured. The old man looked almost relieved. The others seemed uncertain, and the largest of them looked downright mutinous. He bolted forward, invading Endymion's space, all fire and gumption.

"You're no leader of mine. Why the hell would I follow some disgraced asshole who couldn't even hold onto the pack he had? You may be some big shot Alpha, but strong enough to lead us? I don't buy it." He spat.

The old wolf sighed wearily.

"Mike, you don't know what you're doing..." But it was too late for admonishments. Alphas didn't negotiate or reason. Not when establishing pecking order. They simply acted.

Endymion moved without warning, slamming his head into Mike's, and using the momentum of Mike stumbling back to drive home a punch to the gut, and another to the kidney as Mike began to fall. He waited until Mike landed and then unleashed a growl of challenge.

"If you wish to challenge me for the right to lead, boy then you will have to best me. SHIFT." Endymion used every bit of Alpha influence he had and the boy yelped as he shifted against his will.

Endymion shed skin for fur just as quickly and the two wolves circled each other. Mike's wolf was a tan color and big, nearly as big as Endymion's own. He'd make a fine enforcer. Little in the way of brains, but lots of muscle and nerve.

Mike leapt for Endymion, unleashing a vicious growl of his own. Endymion saw it coming and leapt to the side, spinning back around so fast the younger wolf didn't see it coming.

Endymion knew savage satisfaction at the taste of the other wolf's blood and the sound of a pained yelp as he sank his teeth into his neck and raked his wicked claws over Mike's exposed belly, forcing him to the ground.

Mike struggled a little bit, but he was no match for Endymion, and he knew it. The younger wolf went limp and whine of surrender sounded. Endymion released him and stepped back. He turned his gaze to the rest of them, tilted back his head, and howled to the sky, howled his victory; his dominance.

The rest of them knelt on the grass and tilted their heads, baring their necks and dropping his gaze. He went around to them and delivered a bite to each. When he was done, his spirit sang as he felt the bonds of pack singing through him; felt their minds in the back of his own. They were his new pack. And he was their Alpha.