A big thank you to Jen, Taylor, Anna, Meagan, Amanda and all my ARC readers, who make it possible for my books to be readable. They are all amazing. Come and say hello on my Facebook page, Twitter, or my website listed below. I post teasers, new covers, and giveaways in my Facebook group.

  Bailey’s Pack.

  Thank you to all my family for their support as I wrote this book. Thank you to my husband for feeding me when I forgot to eat and my children for not destroying the house.

  Please keep reading for Chapter One of Run Little Bear (The Forest Pack Series #2) …

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  Also by G. Bailey

  The King Brothers Series-

  Izzy’s Beginning (Book one)

  Sebastian’s Chance (Book two)

  Elliot’s Secret (Book three)

  Harley’s Fall (Book Four)

  Luke’s Revenge (Coming soon)

  Her Guardians Series-

  Winter’s Guardian (Book one)

  Winter’s Kiss (Book two)

  Winter’s Promise (Book three)

  Winter’s War (Book Four)

  Her Fate Series-

  (Her Guardians Series spinoff)

  Adelaide’s Fate (Coming soon)

  Saved by Pirates Series-

  Escape the sea (Book One)

  Love the sea (Book Two)

  Save the sea (Coming soon)

  Only One Night series-

  Strip for me (Book one)

  Live for Me (Coming soon)

  The Marked Series (Co-written with Cece Rose)-

  Marked by Power (Book one)

  Marked by Pain (Book two)

  Snow and Seduction anthology-

  Triple Kisses

  The Forest Pack series-

  Run Little Wolf- (Coming soon)

  Protected by Dragons series-

  Wings of Ice- (Coming Soon)

  Chapter One of Run Little Bear (The Forest Pack Book Two)

  GOLD

  “Why do I always have to play bait?” I ask Erik as he smirks at me and leans against the car. It's getting ridiculous that I’m always the one who has to pretend to be clueless and innocent as I walk up to the rogue. So sexist.

  “Because you have that innocent look. If I walked in that bar now, they would know I’m here to kill them.” Erik shrugs.

  “It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” Erik teases.

  “I’m just as good as you in a fight; maybe even better,” I tell him, and he just grins at me.

  “You keep telling yourself that, sis,” he replies.

  “Have you spoken to Snow yet?” I ask, and he glares at me.

  “She won’t speak to me about him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Erik mutters, moving off the car and looking away from me.

  “So, you're avoiding your best friend and your mate. Brilliant work, brother,” I reply.

  “Says you, who is avoiding three bears who claim to be your mates. You avoid your problem just as much as I do,” he states.

  I don’t respond as I walk away from him and up the entrance of the bar. Those bears must be wrong, and they have been saying the same thing for the past year, since I met them at the ball. I’ve had nothing but roses, presents, and invites to their pack.

  “Hey…pretty little thing,” a man says, his face shadowed as he leans against the outside of the bar. I try to ignore the wave of disgust I feel looking at him and walk myself into the bar without replying. The bar is packed when I walk in; drunk humans everywhere, and it takes me only a minute to spot the rogue wolf I’ve been looking for. He’s in human form, looking a state as he drinks a shot. His clothes have seen better days, and I can’t help running my eyes over him and his very strong-looking body. The wolf turns to glance at me when I walk closer, his dark green eyes locking with mine, and his scent hits me. He smells amazing, and I don’t know what to do as we both stare at each other.

  “Do you even know why you’re hunting me, darling?” the wolf asks. His voice is deep and husky as he puts his finger up and another shot is placed in front of him. I don’t recognise his accent, it's definitely foreign.

  “The Royals send the order, I don’t usually check the details,” I respond, sliding into the seat next to him, but never taking my eyes off him.

  “Just a paid lackey, huh? Not checking who you’re hunting because you trust the Royals so much?” he says, and then laughs.

  “Just come outside with me. I will take you in, and I don’t have to kill you,” I say, watching as he takes another shot.

  “I recognise you, Gold,” he states, assessing me.

  “You don’t look or act like a normal rogue. If you had heard of me, you would run out the door,” I say, used to rogues doing that.

  “That’s why the back door is already locked, and your twin is waiting outside the only open door,” he tells me, knowing our plan already.

  “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?” I tilt my head to the side as I look at him.

  “No one bit, as I won’t hurt you,” he replies, confusing me further. “Don’t you know who I am to you?” He chuckles, and I slide off my chair, shaking my head as more of his scent hits me. It makes me want to fall to my knees, and I’m trying hard not to move closer to him, like my body wants me to.

  “You can’t be…” I say.

  “You’re my mate. I can smell it, and I know some part of you recognises that,” he chuckles. I shake my head and turn my back on him as I walk out the door. I can’t hurt him or be anywhere near him; they need to send someone else to do this. Erik frowns at me when he sees me walking out, and then he looks behind me. I turn to look at my rogue following me out of the bar, stumbling a little as he walks. The wolf is drunk.

  “Don’t kill him, you can’t.” I hold a hand up to Erik, who frowns.

  “It’s our job, Gold. What the hell are you doing?” he asks me.

  “Protecting my drunk mate, it seems,” I say, and turn around in time to see my rogue fall face flat on the floor with a thud.

  -

  Please keep reading for an excerpt from Marked by Power (The Marked Series, co-written with Cece Rose)

  Prologue of Marked by Power

  The dim lighting in the room does nothing to hide the predatory look on his face as he stalks around me, moving in a circle. I keep trying to move with him, to keep my eyes on him and my back away, but he’s just too quick. He shoots flames to my left, and I jump to my right, narrowly avoiding the hit. I try to counter with air, calling on my mark. I aim low, hoping to strike him off balance. He blocks my attack with a simple swipe of his hand.

  A cool jet of water flows from his right hand; he doesn’t aim it at me, but at the floor. I stare at him in confusion, when suddenly, the water begins to cool and freeze over. I struggle not to slide across it. I lift my left hand and command fire, using fire’s heat to melt the ice, and the steam creates a wall between us. I try to use it as a screen to attack, but he simply uses his air ability to clear his vision again.

  I back up a few steps to keep out of reach, but he pounces, crossing the space between us. Within seconds, I’m pinned down onto the blue mat by his weight. I struggle to get loose, completely forgetting to use my magic in order to assist me.

  “Miss Crowe,” he whispers in my ear softly, his deep voice sending shivers right through me.

  “Kenzie,” I mumble.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Please call me Kenzie,” I whisper.

  “Miss Kenzie Crowe,” he utters softly, his cool breath against my neck making me shiver.

  “Yes?” I whisper, looking up and catching the heated look in his green eyes.

  “You would be dead six times over if I was really trying.”

  31

  Kenzie

  Today is the first day of the rest of my life; my initiation into the marked academy. I glance around at all the other seventeen-year-olds dressed in traditional white, as we walk across the rocks. Most look excited, a few nervous, and one even looks a little bored, but I’m calm. I’ll be happy whether I get one power, eleven, or any of the numbers in between. I feel a hand slip into mine, and as I look around to see Kelly, I smile at her.

  “Aren’t you nervous?” Kelly asks.

  “Nope. It doesn’t matter what happens. I’ve just got to last three years in this school, and then I’m back to the plan. It’s hard to be nervous when you’re not invested,” I answer softly, aware of the quiet around us, and not wanting my voice to echo in the darkness of night.

  “I am,” she whispers. “What if I only get one? My dads will be so disappointed. Mum will be happy with whatever, but those two, they just have so many expectations,” she adds.

  I frown. I know her dads have always been pushing Kelly to be a high achiever, but seeing her worry like this makes me glad that my own fathers only want me to be happy. The three of them have always shown me support in whatever I want to do, and my mum is the same.

  “It’ll be fine, Kells, I promise,” I reply, squeezing her hand tightly.

  She shoots me a grateful smile, and then her eyes widen as we reach the cave entrance. The entrance is considerably large for a cave and is mostly filled with water, but for a narrow, uneven ledge that runs along one side.

  One by one, we file onto the ledge in alphabetical order, walking slowly and carefully across it. Kelly lets go of my hand reluctantly and slips in behind me, walking so close I can feel her breath on my neck. I’m glad her surname follows mine: Crowe and Curwood; I’d hate to think of her doing this part without me.

  We follow along the trail until I see the people in front of me seemingly vanish into the wall. I drag my fingers along, waiting for the crack I know is meant to be there. The guy directly in front of me steps to the side and vanishes. I follow his steps and feel my fingers leave the wall, finding the gap. I slip through after him and walk in darkness for a moment until I see where the narrow gap opens up.

  Torches line the walls, the flames flickering and casting shadows everywhere. I carry on, following behind the guy in front, and I hear Kelly closely behind. The path opens into a large cavernous space. A serene pool of water lies between us and a grand, golden, double door. The doors are covered in the twelve markings of the marked, six on each.

  There are three people cloaked in black standing in front of the door. One stands to the side by a gong, holding a long striker. Another stands slightly to the other side, gesturing for us all to file into the room. And one stands in front, a long gold chain hanging around their neck; the master of today’s ceremony.

  We all file into rows in front of the water. Once side by side again, I feel Kelly’s hand slip back into mine. We kneel as instructed and wait for the rest to file in. Once we are all waiting, kneeling patiently, the master of the ceremony steps forward.

  “Welcome, new students, to The Marked Academy. One by one, your names will be called, and you shall enter the water. The water here is all the way from Ariziadia, and will activate your dormant powers. You are to submerge to receive your marks at the sound of the gong. Once blessed by the water, you shall declare how many markings you received, before passing through the doors. However, if you are not blessed by the water, you must leave immediately. Do you all understand?”

  A mixture of affirmative answers and head nods roll across the room as we indicate our understanding. I feel Kelly’s hand squeeze mine tighter, the worry of not being blessed clearly getting to her.

  “We shall begin,” the ceremony master says.

  I can feel the tension in the room as everyone stares forward, waiting for the blessings to begin.

  “Jacob Addison,” the robed figure to the left calls, their deep voice carrying across the otherwise silent room. The guy kneeling on the front row furthest to the left stands and makes his way to the pool of water. His hunched shoulders are the only sign of his concern as he slowly wades through the water till he reaches the centre and stops, nervously looking around. I count my blessings that I’m not first. The pressure of going before everyone else must be overwhelming.

  The robed figure to the right bangs the striker against the gong, and Jacob submerges himself in the water, going completely under. We all watch and wait with bated breath for him to rise. After what feels like forever, he emerges, spluttering as his hands pat against several parts of his body. He must be counting his marks.

  “How many markings?” the deep voice calls.

  “Seven,” Jacob replies. He looks around and catches the looks of who I assume to be friends, giving them a thumbs up, before wading the rest of the way across the water. He walks up and past the robed figures before slowly pushing the grand-looking door open and stepping through, the door closing softly behind him.

  “Joshua Allen,” the robed figure calls, wasting no time in continuing.

  The next guy stands and makes his way into the water. The gong sounds, he submerges, and then emerges again.

  “How many markings?” the robed man asks.

  “Four,” Joshua answers, his voice wavering over the simple word.

  Without looking back, he crosses through the water and walks up past the robed figures, and leaves through the golden door as the guy before him did.

  “How many more people before us?” Kelly whispers to me softly.

  “Twenty-two,” I whisper back. “Just be glad our surnames don’t begin with Z.”

  I shoot a smile at her, which she returns nervously. 247 of us needing to be blessed; I’m glad I’m not the robed guys right now. Turning my head, I cast my eyes across to the guy sitting at the back at the far right. Nope. It’s him I am glad not to be, his knees will be aching like hell by the time he gets called.

  I turn my attention back to the ceremony, watching each person stand as they are called, and step into the water. They all receive marks; the lowest three and the highest ten earning ten. The one with ten gets some impressed looks from other students, who are kneeling and waiting. As I watch Liam Cartwright walk through the large doors on the other side of the water, I take a deep breath.

  “Mackenzie Crowe.”

  Despite expecting it, I freeze when my name is called. I wasn’t feeling nervous before, but the water suddenly looks so much more daunting. With so many still in here watching, I feel the pressure mount. What if I only get one? It doesn’t matter so much to me if I don’t have powers, but others may think less of me for it, and I have to put up with these people for the next three years. What if I stand in the water and have nothing, nada. If I’m not marked, what would happen then? It’s not as if that is common, but it’s been known to happen; I wouldn’t be the first. Not marked, not human, but unmarked.

  The unmarked are born of a marked line, but not deemed worthy of power. The ultimate failure in the eyes of my people. I gulp as I stand, straightening my shoulders as I walk the short distance to the water. The water is completely still, not a ripple in sight. I dip my toe in first, feeling the cold shoot straight into me, chilling me to my bones. I cast a glance back at Kelly. She shoots me an encouraging smile and mouths something at me, but I can’t make out what.

  I turn back, looking straight at the door ahead, and step into the water. I wade in until about waist deep, in the centre of the pool. I look up above, the gap in the ceiling of the cave letting the moonlight in. The glow of the full moon is strangely comforting.

  The gong sounds, and I submerge a second after, letting the icy-cold water cover me, closing my eyes as my head goes under. I feel the chill of the water make me shiver, and I start to wonder how I will know if I have been blessed or not, when I feel a burn on my left ankle. That’s one. Another on my right hip. That’s two. Fuck, my ribs! I clutch my ribs with my hands as a burn starts there as well. And then suddenly, pain strikes across my body in several places all at once. The water now feels hot, not cold. I pull myself upright, so I’m standing, shaking slightly. I look down at myself and try to make a count of all the marks, using pain as an indicator of the ones below clothing. Both ankles, both thighs, both hipbones, my ribs, two on my back, both wrists, and I feel a burn on the back of my neck. Wait, how many is that? I do a mental count. Twelve. That’s got to be wrong. I count again.

  A throat clears, drawing my attention to the hooded figures, knowing I need to announce my markings. I try to count again, coming up with the same answer; twelve. How is that possible?

  “Miss Crowe?”

  “Tw-twelve,” I stutter quietly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Twelve,” I repeat more clearly. “I have twelve marks.”

  Whispers start around the room. It doesn’t take long for the volume to rise, and for it to become shouting. Twelve marks, it’s impossible. I can hear people yelling things like “liar,” “deceit,” and “check her” as I swallow and slowly make my way across the rest of the pool.

  I stand before the robed elders, waiting for them to allow me to pass and enter The Academy. One of the figures steps toward me and holds out their hands, palm up, requesting my own. I place my hands in theirs and they turn my hands over and inspect the two markings on my wrists. The symbol of flames on one, and water on the other. They release them and twirl their fingers, asking me to turn around. I do as they say, facing the other students who are waiting for their own initiation to begin. I feel fingers lightly brush my thick, dark hair out of the way and then trace over the marking on my neck. I shiver from the gentleness of the touch.