Erotica Ebooks: Free ebook sample of "Heart of the Wolf" by Terry Spear

Prologue

1850 Colorado

AS SOON AS HE STRIPPED NAKED, HE’D BE HERS.

Unbraiding her hair, Bella’s blood heated with desire while she observed the dark-haired boy. He looked about eighteen, two years older than she. He yanked off one boot, then another, at the lake’s edge. It wasn’t the first time she’d watched him peel out of his clothes, but it was the first time she’d join him. If he had a taste of her, wouldn’t he crave her? Hunger to be like her? Wild and free?

She swallowed hard, longing to be Devlyn’s mate— rather than some human’s—but it would never be. Lifting her chin, she resolved to make the human hers. She untied her ankle-high boots, then slipped them off her feet.

The human boy’s pet gray wolf rested at the shoreline, his ears perked up as he watched her. But the boy didn’t see her—he was unobservant, as most humans were.

However, a boy who cared for his wolf such as he did would care for her, too, wouldn’t he? He’d studied her when she swam here before, naked, splashing lazily across the water’s surface, attempting to draw him to her. Though he’d tried to conceal himself in the woods, she’d seen him. And heard him with her sensitive hearing when he stepped on dried oak leaves and pine needles to draw closer, to see her more clearly. She’d smelled his heady man-scent on the breeze. He’d desired her then, setting her belly afire; he’d desire her now.

Tilting her nose up, she breathed in his masculinity. Masculine but not as wild as her own kind—lupus garou. A human who treated a woman with kindness, that’s what she desired.

She tugged her pale blue dress over her head, strug­gling to shed her clothes as quickly as she could now. Wanting to get her plan into motion, before she changed her mind, or one of the pack tried to change it for her.

Adopted by the gray pack, she wasn’t even a gray wolf. So why should it matter if she left them and chose the human boy for her own? Volan, the gray alpha pack leader, wanted her, that’s why. Her stomach clenched with the thought that the man who’d nearly raped her would have her if she couldn’t find a way out of the nightmare.

The human pulled off his breeches. A boy, still not well muscled, but well on his way. A survivor, living on his own, that’s what intrigued her so much about him. A loner—like a rogue wolf—determined to endure.

Only in her heart, she desired the gray who’d saved her life when they were younger—Devlyn. Even now she had difficulty not comparing his rangy, taller body with this boy’s. They had the same dark hair and eyes, which maybe explained why the human had attracted her. She wanted Devlyn with all her heart, but craving his attention would only result in Volan killing him. Best to leave the pack and mate with a human, cut her ties with the grays, and start her own pack.

She’d watched the human ride, run, hunt with his rifle, but she admired him most when he swam. Her gaze dropped lower to the patch of dark hair resting above his legs and…

She raised her brows. A thrill of expectation of having his manhood buried deep inside her sent a tingling of gooseflesh across her skin. If her drawers hadn’t been crotchless, they’d have been wet in anticipation. She smiled at the sight of him. He’d produce fine offspring.

He dove into the water with a splash. With powerful strokes he glided across the placid surface of the small, summer-warmed lake. She slipped out of her last petti­coat, then her drawers. Without a stitch of clothes on, she stood on the opposite shore, waiting for him to catch sight of her. Wouldn’t he yearn for her like her own kind did?

She had to entice him to make love to her. Then she’d change into the wolf and bite him. And transfer the beauty of the wolf to him in the ancient way.

Running her fingers through her cinnamon curls, she fanned them over her shoulders, down to her hips.

They’d live together in his log cabin, taking jaunts through the woods in their wolf states under the bright moon forever. His mother, father, and little sister had died during the winter, and none of his kind lived within a fifteen-mile radius. He’d want her—he had to. Like her wolf pack, most humankind desired companionship.

She stepped into the water.

Then he caught sight of her.

His dark eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. But he didn’t swim toward her as she expected. He didn’t come for her, ravish her as she wanted. His eyes inspected every bit of her, but then he turned and swam away from her, back to the shore and his clothes. What was wrong with him?

Her mind warred between anger and confusion. Didn’t he find her appealing?

She swam toward him, trying to reach the shore before he dressed and headed back to his cabin. But by the time she reached the lake halfway, he’d jerked on his breeches and boots, not even bothering with his shirt or vest, and vanished into the woods with his wolf at his heel.

In disbelief, she stared after him.

“Bella!” the leader of her pack hollered, his voice forbidding and warlike.

She snapped her head around. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the gray leader.

Volan stood like a predator waiting for the right time to go after his prey. His ebony hair was bound tight, and his black eyes narrowed. As a wolf, he was heavyset, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, the leader by virtue of his size, powerful jaws, and wicked killer canines. But now he stood as a man, his thoughts darker than night, his face menacing as he considered her swimming naked in the lake.

Did the boy get away in time, before Volan caught sight of him? How could she be so naïve as to think that Volan would let her have a human male?

She paddled in place and glared at him. “What do you want, Volan?” she growled back, unable to hold a civil tongue whenever he stood near.

“Come out at once!”

He turned his head toward the woods.

Had he smelled the human? Her heart rate quickened. She swam back to her clothes, determined to draw his attention away from the boy.

Then she spied Devlyn, watching, half hidden in the shadows of the forest, as if he and the pack leader were maneuvering in for the kill. A pang of regret sliced through her that Devlyn might have seen her lusting after a human. Three years older than she, he still vied for his place within the pack. A strap of leather tied back his coffee-colored, shoulder-length hair, and she fought the urge to set it free, to soften his harsh look. His equally dark brown eyes glowered at her, while his sturdy jaw clenched.

He stepped closer, not menacingly, but as if he stalked a deer and feared scaring away his prey. She raised a brow. This time, he seemed to have Volan’s permission to draw close.

She growled. “Stay away.” Wading out of the water, she distracted Volan from considering the woods or who might have disappeared into them. Devlyn, too, eyed her with far too much interest.

She hurried to slip into her clothes, irritated to have the wrong audience. Still, the way Devlyn closed in on her, only keeping a few feet from her until she was dressed, while Volan remained a hundred yards away, sent a trickle of dread through her.

Volan never allowed males to get close to her when she was naked, and normally she wouldn’t have permitted it either. So what were they up to? She left her wet hair loose, then Volan nodded.

As soon as he signaled to Devlyn, her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t react quickly enough. Devlyn surged forward and grabbed her wrist. In the same instant, Volan charged in the direction of the woods where the young man had disappeared.

“Volan!” she screamed.

He intended to murder the boy. Only she had really killed him, as surely as if she’d ripped out his throat herself. Wanting to save him, she struggled to free herself from Devlyn. “Let me go!”

He gripped her wrist tighter and hurried her toward their village.

“He didn’t do anything!”

Devlyn glared at her, his eyes unforgiving, blacker than she’d ever seen them. Anger smoldered in the depths. An anger she couldn’t understand.

“Please,” she pleaded, trying to soften his heart.

She tried to break free, and he wrenched her back to his side. “You’re a fool, Bella.”

“I won’t be Volan’s mate!”

For an instant, Devlyn’s grasp on her arm lessened. Then he tightened his grip again. “You have no choice. And after what you’ve done here, he won’t wait any longer.”

Was there regret in his voice? God, how she wanted him to save her from Volan…to be her mate.

A howl sounded in the distance, and she sank to her knees. Volan had murdered the young man and shouted his actions to the world with great pleasure.

Devlyn yanked her from the ground and hurried her on their way.

“You won’t ever leave the pack, Devlyn. You’ll always be nothing but a follower!” She hadn’t meant to say the hurtful words, but the anger she harbored simmered red-hot, like molten lava beneath the surface. “Why can’t you run with me? Why can’t you take me for your own some­where far from here?”

He glared at her. “They’re my family. They’ll always be my family. Something you don’t compre­hend, apparently.”

“I—I thought you felt something for me.”

Devlyn pulled her to a stop and grabbed her shoulders. “It can never be between us! Volan would hunt us down, both of us. What kind of a life would that be? He’d kill our offspring, too. Is that what you want? Maybe if I’d been older, stronger, but now he won’t wait to have you.” He shook his head. “Dammit, Bella, as far as the human was concerned, he wouldn’t have wanted you! Can’t you see that? If he’d seen you changed, he would have been repulsed. If he could have discovered a way, he’d have killed you.” He held her tightly, staring into her eyes with a mixture of anger and hunger. “You know what I want from you.”

He was hard and smelled of sex. She sensed that his hormones raged, urging him to mount her. Her breath came quickly as she desired his attentions, but feared them, too. Feared them because of what Volan would do to Devlyn if Volan caught him lusting after her. She’d never seen Devlyn so outwardly angry, so filled with venom—so sexually alive.

“You could smell his putrid fear, woman!” He pulled her against his body and kissed her hard on the mouth, no teasing or waiting for her approval—just pure lust, conquering and decisive. And she loved him, every bit of the dangerous and feral lupus garou that he was.

Her body melted to his touch, but Volan’s musky, bloody scent drifted to her on the breeze. Panic sliced through her. Volan would claim her now. But if he caught Devlyn touching her…

Volan appeared in a couple of bounds in his ebony-pelted wolf form, his eyes narrowed with hate. He growled, and immediately Devlyn released her. She stepped back, assuming Volan would kill Devlyn for his actions, the thought wrenching at her gut.

Devlyn stood his ground. “I tried to convince her how stupid she was for feeling anything for the human.”

Volan turned to Bella. He’d show her how a male wolf took a mate. The moisture from her throat evaporated. The image of him trying to take her when she was much younger still fed her nightmares. A streak of shudders racked her body.

Volan turned his attention back to Devlyn. The hair stood on end from the nape of his neck to the tip of his tail. He advanced aggressively, then stopped.

Torn between giving herself to Volan to protect Devlyn and fighting Volan herself, she knew neither would work. Devlyn would hate her either way—damn his male wolf pride.

Volan growled again. Devlyn yanked off his shirt. His muscles flexed as he tugged at his belt, his golden skin shimmering with sweat in the summer sun. Any other day, she loved to see every bit of his handsome physique—his muscled thighs, the dark patch of curly hair between his legs, and the erection she’d encouraged. But not now, not with Volan threatening to rip him to shreds.

As soon as Devlyn stood naked, he began to change, his body twisting into the form of a wolf, his snout elon­gated. A thick brown pelt as rich as a mink’s covered his long legs and torso. He howled as the change took place. Volan waited patiently before he lunged.

She couldn’t watch him rip Devlyn apart. She couldn’t stomach seeing the bully hurt any other wolf of the pack. But certainly not Devlyn, with whom she’d played as a pup, not Devlyn who’d rescued her from the wildfire that took her red wolf pack’s lives. She couldn’t save him now…only maybe herself. Yet when Volan lunged for Devlyn, she dashed between them to protect him. Volan clamped his teeth down on her arm, having the ability to crush the bone with his powerful canines. She cried out when a streak of pain shot up her arm and blood dripped from the wound. Though his eyes reflected remorse at once and he released her, he growled at her to stay out of the way. And so did Devlyn.

Maybe if she ran, Volan would come after her. Maybe she could save Devlyn that way. But she would never return to the pack.

She bolted, with her legs stretched far out, her heart pounding, her breath steady, but her mind frantic—her only chance was to toss her clothes and run like the wolf.

Chapter One

Present Day Portland, Oregon

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS LATER—AGING ONE YEAR for every thirty that passed once a lupus garou reached puberty—Bella was the equivalent of a human twenty-one-year-old. She longed more than ever to have Devlyn for her mate, wishing she hadn’t had to hide from the pack all these years. The burning desire for him flooded her veins whenever she came into the wolf’s heat. Her body craved his touch, but her mind had given up hoping to ever have him for her own. If she could find a strong, agreeable human mate, she could change him into a lupus garou, and he would keep her safe from Volan.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image of the brutish fiend, and continued to pack her overnight bag. Any man would be better than he—a good mate who would help her establish her own pack.

She turned to look at Devlyn’s photo sitting on the bedside table, the most recent one that Argos, the old, retired pack leader, had sent her. Taking a deep breath, she threw another pair of jeans into her bag, determined to get her mind off Devlyn.

Knowing she couldn’t put off mating much longer, she realized that one’s second choice far outweighed living alone; even the sound of a dog’s howl on the night’s breeze triggered the gnawing craving to be with a pack.

She stalked into her office and left an email message for Argos, a routine she’d adopted because he insisted she keep him posted whenever she went into the woods. As a loner, she’d have no backup. Off to the cabin for the weekend again, Argos. Give the pack my love, in secret. Yours always, love, Bella

She didn’t have to tell him to keep her correspon­dence a secret; he knew what would happen if Volan learned where she was. . . .

Turning off her computer, she picked up her phone and called her next-door neighbor—a woman who had partially eased Bella’s loneliness after losing her twin sister in a fire so many years ago. “Chrissie, I’m going to my cabin for the weekend again. Can you keep an eye on my place?”

“Sure thing, Bella. Pick up your mail on Saturday, too, if you’d like. And I’ll water your greenhouse plants. Hey, I don’t want to hold you up, but did you hear about the latest killing?”

“Yeah, the police have got to catch the bastard soon.”

That was one of the reasons she was going to her cabin, to get away, to consider the facts of the murders, to search for clues in the woods. He had to be from Port­land or the surrounding area, since it was there he’d killed all the women. And he had to take a jaunt in a forest from time to time. The call of the wild was too strong in them. She hadn’t expected to smell red lupus garou in the place where she ran, as far away as it was from the city. For three years she hadn’t smelled a hint of them. Not until last weekend. Was one of them the

killer? She had to know.

Bella tossed a pink sweatshirt into the bag.

“You be careful, honey. The victims are all redheads in their twenties. And the last was killed not far from here.”

“Don’t worry, Chrissie. I’ve got a gun for protection.” Well, two: one at her cabin, and one at home, but who was counting? Silver bullets, too; Bella had them made for Volan. It wasn’t the lupus garou way, but she had no other way to fight him. She would never be his.

“A . . . a gun? Do you know how to shoot it?”

Yep, she’d learned how to shoot a gun a good century and a half ago, ever since the early days when she had lived in the wilderness, trying to survive in the lands west of Colorado.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Give your kids hugs for me, will you? Tell Mary I want to see the painting she did for art class, and tell Jimmy that I want to see his science project when I return.”

Chrissie sighed. “I’ll tell them. You be careful up there all by yourself. That is, if you’re going all by yourself.”

Always checking. Chrissie was looking for husband number two, and she assumed Bella rendezvoused with some mountain man every time she returned to her cabin.

“See you Monday.”

“Be careful, Bella. You never know where that maniac will end up.”

“I’ll be cautious. Got to go.”

Bella hung up the phone and zipped her suitcase. Before it turned dark she had every intention of searching the woods for further clues concerning the red lupus garou—not a wild dog, a mixed wolf-dog breed, or as some thought, a pit bull that some bastard had trained to kill his victims—that might be killing the women.

Why had she caught the scent of red lupus garou in the area near her cabin now, when the woods had been free of their kind for the last three years? She envisioned a lone female wouldn’t stand a chance at remaining that way. Her stomach curdled with the idea that she’d have to give up her cabin and find a new place to run. Just one more concern to add to her growing list of worries.

t t t

Later that day, when Bella arrived at her cabin, the waning moon called to her though it was still fairly light out. She tilted her nose up to the breeze, standing on the porch of her cedar home in the woods, the building now a faded gray. It served as her hideaway on the weekends when she lived on the wild side, away from the hustle and bustle of the city of Portland. She would be the right age to be Volan’s mate, if he ever found her. Smiling at how clever she had been to avoid him, the smile faded as a coyote howled. She wasn’t meant to be a rogue wolf, living alone without a pack. Some were naturally geared that way. Not her.

More than that, Devlyn still held her heart hostage, damn him. She could still feel the way his strong fingers had gripped her shoulders with possessiveness, smell his feral craving to have her, feel his heart thundering when he crushed her against him. Why couldn’t he have run with her?

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts of the one who’d possessed her soul since the beginning.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for the gray wolf pack, the lupus garou family who had taken her in. It was the unfathomable notion that she’d have been Volan’s mate that fired her soul to the depths of hell. Stronger than the rest, he wasn’t brighter, nor caring in the least bit. Just a bully, such as in ancient times when the strongest men ruled. Why couldn’t she find a mate who would treat her as . . . as . . . an equal?

Somewhere, such a male had to exist.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled off her sweater, turtleneck, denims, and hiking boots, and dropped them on a porch chair. Standing naked, she shivered, then breathed in the heavenly scent of pine needles, the smell once again triggering the memory of Devlyn kissing her. No man since had kissed her like he had.

She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard. He stirred primal longings in her too strong to quench. The desire to feel him deep inside her, filling her with his seed, producing their offspring, their family—sharing a life­time commitment as mates forever—overwhelmed her. But he wasn’t the leader of the pack. Even if she wanted Devlyn for her mate, she didn’t think he’d ever be strong enough to have her. Yet, she couldn’t help but keep in touch with Argos, the old former leader of the pack. Knowing Devlyn was alive and well. . . .

She growled with exasperation. For now she had to hunt like a wolf, and in the interim, search for a different prey—the feral predator that stalked human redheaded females and murdered them like a rabid wolf.

Stretching again, her lean body began to take the form of the wolf. The painless transformation always occurred quickly and filled her with a sense of urgency—to hunt, to run wild among the other creatures of the forest.

A thick cinnamon-red pelt covered her skin as her nose elongated into a snout, and her teeth grew ready for the hunt. She straightened her back, howled with the change, then dropped to her paws. Her nails extended into sharp claws, itching to dig into the pine needle-cushioned earth.

Though she preferred venison to rabbit, she hunted the latter. Killing deer out of season constituted a crime. If anyone found the leftovers of such a kill, an investiga­tion would follow. Soon word would spread that a wolf was killing deer in the area. A wolf that might next go after ranchers’ sheep or cattle, or household pets, or chil­dren. A wolf thought to be extinct in these parts.

Leaping off the porch, her long legs carried her with graceful bounds through the wilderness. She traveled through several hundreds of acres before spying another cabin—quiet, vacated. Since it was winter and no longer hunting season, except for the end of dusky Canadian goose season, she shouldn’t glimpse another human being.

She thought she caught a whiff of something familiar. Pausing, she sniffed the air, and recognized the distinc­tive smell of lupus garou—red lupus garou.

Loping toward the origin of the scent, she darted past pines and firs, ducked beneath low-hanging branches, jumped a moss-covered log in her path . . . then halted.

A patch of red fur clung to the bark of an oak. Defi­nitely red wolf; and because none existed here, it had to be a red lupus garou’s.

She contemplated returning to her human form and taking the evidence back to her cabin, but she was miles from there, and as cold as it was, her human counterpart probably wouldn’t make it.

The breeze shifted. She smelled the red’s scent stronger now. He’d just urinated somewhere nearby, marking his territory. She hesitated. If he were looking for a mate, she’d be a prime target; and if he were an alpha male, she wouldn’t be strong enough to fight him if he decided to force a mating.

Leaves rustled. A twig snapped underfoot a short distance away. A chill raced all the way down her spine to the tip of her taut tail. An eerie feeling she was being watched froze her in place.

What if he was the killer? What if he was hunting her now? But what if she could lure him into the open, play his game, and turn him over to whatever pack happened to live in the area? Even if he were a loner, the pack in the territory would condemn him to die. Killing humans put every lupus garou at risk. Keeping their secret hidden was the only way for them to survive.

Then again, he might just be a pack member hunting for fresh meat—enjoying the freedom of the change like she was—who had come across her, a loner lupus garou violating the pack’s territory. Unless . . . unless their reds had a shortage of females like the Colorado grays did, and. . . .

Damn, why hadn’t she considered that before now?

She stared into the shadowy woods where bugs crick­eted in a raucous chorus and a breeze ruffled the pine needles in a whispered hush. If there was a severe shortage of female lupus garou, was the killer trying to turn a human female in the ancient way? To make her his mate?

Not good.

She dashed to where he’d left his mark. No sign of him. But the urine was fresh. Too fresh. He had to be close by, but if he were stalking her he couldn’t be an alpha male. An alpha male would have already approached her and let her know he wanted her, if he needed a mate. He had to smell how ripe she was and know she was ready, too. Was that why he went after female humans, because they were easier to take than a lupus garou? Maybe he was afraid to advance on a loner who was more feral, warier, more unpredictable.

She caught the scent of another. Also male. Except for twitching her ears back and forth and withdrawing her panting tongue, she listened and sniffed the air but stood in place.

She smelled—water.

Swallowing, she felt parched, and loped toward the sound of Wolf Creek, the water bubbling nearby. At the fringe of the forest she hesitated, not liking the way the stream’s banks were so exposed. For several minutes she stood watching, listening for signs of danger— human danger.

Nothing.

The water beckoned to her. She swallowed again, stared at the rush of the stream, then walked cautiously across the pebble bank.

Unable to shake the feeling that someone watched her, she waited like a rabbit cornered by a wolf, cemented in place.

Ice-cold water from melting snow off the mountains dove over rounded rock. She dipped her tongue into the water and lapped it up; the liquid cooled and soothed her dry throat.

She couldn’t help wishing she were back in Colorado, running with Devlyn like they’d done when they were younger—chasing through the woods, nipping at each other’s hindquarters, feeling the wind ruffle their fur. God, how she wished he’d mated with her.

Water trickled and gurgled at her feet, birds chirped overhead, and sugar-drained oak leaves rustled in the breeze all around her. But then a flash of red fur caught her attention, and she turned.

The glitter of the sun’s fading reflection off a wolf’s amber eyes captured her, held her hostage, but her gaze held him captive, too. But only for a moment. His head whipped to the side. Another flash of fur, and another male appeared. Then, the wave of a wolf’s tail as the lupus garou made a hasty retreat. She should have heeded the instinctual warning. Instead, she gauged the remaining wolf’s posture, the way he turned his attention back to her, closed his mouth, and almost seemed to smile before dashing after his companion.

The crashing through the underbrush couldn’t hide the most dangerous sound known to wildlife—a trigger clicking on a rifle. Nothing could disguise the sound of death.

Immediately her tail stood upright, and the hair on her back and neck stood on end.

A chill hurtled down her spine and she dashed through the creek, her heart thundering. Her ears twisted back and forth, trying to identify where the hunter stood.

The sound of a crack rang across the woods and open area, and a sharp pain stabbed her in the left flank. She stumbled . . . then attempted to dash off again, her leg numbed with paralysis.

The hunter shouted, “He’s still going! I’ve never seen a red wolf that big! Shoot him again!”

Idiots. They couldn’t kill her with normal bullets.

Running for several yards, she reached the edge of the forest, but the guarded relief she felt withered when the men splashed across the creek in hot pursuit of her. She sprinted north toward her cabin, miles away. Except going this way meant she had to cross the river. Then again, she could ford it, while she doubted they could.

“Hurry!” one of the men shouted, his voice rife with enthusiasm, but shadowed with a hint of concern.

She would have clenched her teeth in anger, but she was panting too hard. Her movements slowed. Even her brain fuzzed, and her eyesight blurred. Ripping out their throats came to mind, if they got close enough. The primal instinct for self-preservation voided out the ruling drummed into her that her kind didn’t kill humans; keeping their existence a secret outweighed the importance of the life of any single lupus garou.

“Tag him before he reaches the river! We don’t want him drowning!” the same man shouted.

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