Silver Wolf Clan

By TERA SHANLEY

LYRICAL PRESS

An imprint of Kensington Publishing Corp.

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/

For my parents, Paul and Paula Muller, for everything they’ve done for me. Their support is unending, uncompromising, and it inspires more than they’ll ever know.

I wrote the entire Silver Wolf Clan series in secret, back when I thought I’d have a little adventure to myself, but there have been people along the way who are responsible for Morgan and Grey’s story coming to life. A huge thank you to my husband, Anthony, who is the first on board whenever I come up with crazy ideas. There have been many. To my Grandmother, Peggy Epperson, who taught me how to woman up. My parents, Paul and Paula Muller, for their unending support. Mary Murray, my magical editor, for somehow managing to teach and edit simultaneously. Thank you to Fiona Skye for putting together this beautiful cover. To Ellen Chan, my lovely publicist, who works tirelessly to connect books and readers. And to Renee Rocco with Lyrical Press/Kensington Publishing Corp. for giving this series a home.

Grey jolted awake. The air stirred with something just beyond his senses that made the blood in his veins run cold. Something unnatural. He kicked out of the sleeping bag, which had tangled around his legs, and sat up. The fire had gone out long before and the slow burning embers offered little light. The full moon was more helpful but his eyes still needed to adjust. Silence surrounded him in the forest, except for the sound of his breathing and the beating of his heart. Erratic and fast. Like wings of the birds that had been scared into stillness. What woke him?

A scream echoed through the woods.

He jumped up and flew into action. The fancy knife his grandfather had given him gleamed from his overturned boot near the fire pit. He pulled it and turned in a slow circle. Where had the sound come from? The terror filled scream of a woman was something he never expected to hear out here. Not when he thought he’d camped far enough away from everyone. His eyes adjusted. Another scream, more horror filled than the last. The hairs rose on his arms. He needed action. There. That way, through the woods.

He ran, ignoring his unprotected, bare feet on the uneven, obstacle riddled ground. Branches whipped at his face, tree roots reached for his feet.

He was close. The woman sobbed in between screams and there was something more. A child? He skidded into a clearing, hands hitting the ground as he tried to stop. He gripped the knife even tighter. The weapon wasn’t nearly big enough. The furred animal had to be a bear. Nothing else made sense, but what was a bear doing deep in the woods of Texas?

A woman swung a flaming torch at the animal as it stood protectively over something on the leaf covered ground just outside the firelight. A little girl, maybe two years old, huddled near a small tent, whimpering.

“Let her go!” the woman screamed. A warrior.

The animal turned its head and the flames lit its face. A wolf. Dark, wet lips pulled away from gleaming, red drenched teeth, the monstrous creature loosed a bone chilling snarl. Its glowing eyes trained on the woman. She stood her ground, dark hair whipping around her shoulders in the wind. She couldn’t be over five feet tall, and slight. No chance against the predator.

“Hey,” he yelled. “Back up slowly.”

She hesitated but didn’t turn away from the snarling animal. Her voice shook like the licking of the torch’s flames. “I can’t. It has my sister.”

He cursed softy. Trying to save someone else was as good a way to die as any, he supposed. The knife gleamed in the firelight as he lunged for the animal. How could it be so huge? He caught it down the ribs and the wolf turned so fast, its form blurred. Then it sank its fangs into his forearm. Burning pain seared through him as the wolf held on and shook his arm so hard it rattled in its socket. Over and over, Grey stabbed at him with the knife until the blade was slick with the beast’s blood. Smoke billowed from the creature’s slashed skin, and the smell of burning flesh assaulted him. Furiously, he kept at it as the wolf shook him and clamped down harder with long, penetrating teeth.

As suddenly as the beast had lunged, it let go with a roar and ran off into the night.

Numbness caressed his muscles, and he stumbled to the ground. The woman ran to the heap near him. Her sister hadn’t made it. Terror was written all over the woman’s face as she chanted “Marianna, Marianna, Marianna,” as if it would bring her back to life.

His arms and legs were on fire, burning from his very veins, blistering every nerve ending on the way out. Why was the pain tearing through his chest? He tried to hail the woman but nothing came out except a quiet groan. Was he dying? He arched his neck toward her sister. Her body was so mangled it was all but unrecognizable as human. The girl’s eyes were open, fixed, staring back at him. She was dead. Would he die, too? What was that thing? That monster?

Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he still slept, back in his campsite a quarter of a mile away. He’d been sleeping there only a few minutes ago. Maybe he was just having a vivid night terror and he’d wake at any moment to the relief that this wasn’t real. The girl slid over to him, but he was already panting in pain. Fire in his blood burned him up.

Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears. Like helicopter blades, the sound drowned out everything. Her lips were full, and when his vision blurred, he tried to focus on her face. She was beautiful. Tiny. Delicate like a hummingbird. Even through spilling tears, the moss green color of her eyes was clear and compelling.

Her voice overcame the screeching in his ears. “What’s your name?”

“Greyson,” he rasped. “Greyson Crawford.” Someone should know who he was. Notify Dad what had happened there in the woods of Enchanted Rock. “What’s yours?” It was getting so hard to breathe. He had to know. He’d leave the world on her name.

“Morgan. My name’s Morgan.”

His body seized and the edge of his vision shattered inward, collapsing to a pinpoint. An unimposing, all-consuming star. She smelled so good. Everything blurred into unimportance except the soft rose color of her lips. He couldn’t hear what she said, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Everything went black.

* * * *

Bright rays of sunlight filtered through the tree branches overhead and stretched across Grey’s closed eyelids. He had flashes of running through the woods trying to escape…something. Every muscle ached and his head throbbed so badly, when he tried to sit up he immediately retched. The forest had become a deafening retreat and his ears rang with waves of sound and pain. His vision blurred and refocused, only to blur again. A desperate thirst scorched his throat. Where were the backpack and canteen? Instincts, loud and immediate screamed he wasn’t okay. Something in the woods was off. Electricity crackled in the air, and his skin buzzed with the unnaturalness of it.

He wasn’t alone.

Trying not to jar his body too much, he looked around cautiously. Nothing but trees and falling leaves surrounded him. How long had he been unconscious? A few hours? A few days? He didn’t know.

Morgan. Her lips, trembling with fear as she whispered her name. Her eyes, the color of moss that clung to river rocks, with dark lashes dampened by unshed tears. The smell of summer and something more had clung to her skin, a confusing scent both alluring and unnamable. The shock on her small, pale face as she’d asked questions he couldn’t understand with a desperation that made him want to hold her. The vision of her face made the pain more bearable. The single tear that had finally, finally fled to her cheek just before his gaze had drifted to her sister. Oh God, she’d been so still, lifeless and staring into the night with vacant eyes while the child’s whimper haunted him. That snarling, rampaging beast so large it couldn’t be real, shouldn’t exist, staring hungrily at the tripping pulse in Morgan’s throat. Memories pounded against him, crashing waves of misery until his body clenched with wracking pain. The agony burned through his blood, and he screamed, which turned into a groan, then morphed into an unrecognizable growl.

The monster was near. What could he possibly do? Weak, barely able to move, he was easy prey for the beast. Grey waited for it to come; the death he expected. The wolf panted and growled, so near, and he frantically searched the woods around him. Shrubs, trees, roots, leaves. No monster. The wolf sounded close, so why couldn’t he see it? The late summer air told him a million things but spared him no hint at the direction of danger. Why was he sniffing the air? He smelled the woodsy essence of animal. The musk of fur was pungent on the soft breeze. A fresh wave of panic had him seething with blinding pain, as if his very bones were being ground to dust. His muscles snapped and stretched, and he groaned against the loss of himself.

This was it. This was when he would die.

* * * *

The pain had ebbed. Memory of it was still fresh and raw, but at least Grey could move. He tried to stand but everything tilted at an odd angle. It was impossible to sit upright and nothing in his body seemed to work properly. The effort from trying to sit up had him panting.

Panting? The smell of animal filled the air around him but he detected no movement. He didn’t feel danger.

Everything had a sound. Every leaf falling, every branch swaying with the wind. Every bird, squirrel, and rabbit resonated a distinct note he identified right away. Paws furred black as night rested on the ground below him. He jumped up, unaware of how to use this body, stumbled backward and hit the side of a large rock. A whine escaped his throat. He sat and looked at himself as far as his new neck could stretch. Black tail, legs, paws and body. No, no,
no
! This couldn’t be happening. Panic washed over him in wave after relentless wave as the change to his form began again.

It took only six months to go to hell. That’s what Grey’s life had morphed into. He didn’t have a high paying desk job anymore because he’d been forced to quit the moment he’d grown fangs in his off time. Nobody wanted a werewolf changing in the office and eating the clientele. He’d moved from a comfortable townhome in uptown to a crappy one room apartment in a much less savory part of Dallas. After half a year in a friendless purgatory, not much scared him anymore. He’d been a loner before the bite, but not like this. This was loneliness a man could drown in.

The old trusty trust fund wasn’t an option. Dad would look too hard into it if he withdrew money, take it as an overzealous sign he’d come around to the idea of running his father’s companies. As it stood, Dad couldn’t ever see him like this. One look into his eyes, and Dad would know he was his son no longer. Nope. He hadn’t touched the money before he’d turned wolf, and he sure as hell wasn’t touching it now. Instead, he’d cashed out his retirement and lived meagerly for months.

The worst part of it all was Wolf. His head was filled with the separate, violent, frightening voice of a soulless animal he could rarely control. Wolf fought for space, pushing harder and further until very little of the old Grey broke through. Thanks to that bite in the woods, he was on the fast track to insanity.

Lack of control over when he changed into the beast inside him meant there was no longer a place for him in the modern human world. Camping in the middle of nowhere was the safest way for him to live until recently. Until he’d almost killed a hiker. Wolf was a black blooded demon, obsessed with the hunt. How could he be sure he’d be able to stop him next time?

Grey had braved buying much needed groceries for the first time in two weeks. Plastic bags ruffled in his hands as he fumbled to pull keys from his pocket. As he started up the stairs to his room, some deep seated instinct brought him to a halt.