Saved by Wolves (Shifters Meet Their Mate Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

with the council. Jackson apparently didn’t have the same concern for her feelings.
    “Are you a spy?” he asked.
    Kirra’s body stiffened in Marcus’s arms. “A spy?” she repeated, genuine confusion in her voice.
    “Or a murderer?”
    “What? No, I’m not a spy or a murderer. Why is he asking me this?” she asked Marcus.
    “The Cats said you were with a group of soldiers they suspected of spying. The soldiers told them you’re wanted for murder.”
    She jerked her head away from his. “I’m not a spy, and I’ve never killed anyone.” She sent a pointed glare at Jackson. “No matter how much I’ve been tempted. Put me down.”
    “You’re not wearing any shoes,” Marcus pointed out.
    “Neither are you.”
    “Yeah, but I have tough feet.”
    “I don’t care. I came here because I have information for the Shifter Council, not to be accused of murder.”
    It was too hard to walk with her wiggling in his arms, so Marcus stopped and waited for Jackson to draw even with them.
    “What kind of information could you have for the council?” Jackson asked, crossing his arms and jutting his chin at her. Marcus sighed. He may as well have been wearing a sign that said he wouldn’t believe anything she said. Jackson wasn’t the most diplomatic person.
    “The type I’m not about to tell just anyone,” she retorted. Maybe realizing that pissing off her escort wasn’t her best move, she switched her attention to Marcus. “What do I need to do to get a meeting with the council?”
    “You need an invitation from an alpha.” He sighed. “I’ll introduce you to ours—no way to avoid that anyway—and we’ll see what he says. Don’t get your hopes up.”
    “I believe in being prepared, not in hope,” she said. “Let’s go meet your alpha.”

Chapter Five
    T he muscles in her calves burned. Kirra wanted to believe that Jackson was only setting a punishing pace because he was annoyed with her and wanted to make a point, but she was afraid the truth was worse.
    She was out of shape.
    Rope drills and daily five mile runs around the neighborhood hadn’t prepared her for hours of trudging through the woods, fighting mosquitoes and insane humidity. Her wet boots were back on her feet, providing protection from the sticks and thorns littering the path, but her socks were soaking up the moisture from them. A blister the size of a quarter was forming on her right heel, and she really regretted insisting on carrying her own pack. It was under twelve pounds, which had felt featherlight when she’d first packed it, but it seemed to have gained weight overnight. Maybe the men had slipped some of their own gear into it and were using her as their unsuspecting pack mule. She snorted at the thought. As if her muscle-bound rescuers needed her to carry anything. Marcus could probably carry an ox without breaking a sweat, and Jackson could carry the ox and the wagon it pulled.
    Oxen and wagons. Pain, worry, and fatigue were making her delusional. She’d never even seen an ox, let alone seen a man carry one. 
    Every time she had the urge to ask how much farther they had to go, she bit her tongue. They probably thought she was an annoyance they needed to get rid of as quickly as possible—no sense adding whiny to her list of faults.
    She needed to focus on the positives—she was going to get the help she needed to rescue Francesca, and the men were wearing jeans they’d had in a pack they’d stashed along the trail. It was still hard to stop staring at their butts—she knew what the jeans were covering up, after all—but at least she wasn’t blushing every time her eyes drifted their way.
    “Give me your hand.” Marcus’s warm voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see him balanced on top of a rotten log blocking their route, his arm outstretched to help her up.
    “Thanks.”
    “Not that much farther,” he said.
    “That’s good.” The sunlight was already fading, and spending