Wrath's Patience (Seven Deadly Sins Book 3)
Page 1
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Publisher’s Note:
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This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
Contact RPauthor@rebeccapollard.net for questions
Text Copyright © 2017 R.A Pollard
Cover Copyright © R.A Pollard
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-946337-05-4 (Paperback)
978-1-946337-04-7 (Ebook)
First Edition
Cover Art: Linda Boulanger
Interior Designer: Manon Lavoie
Proofreader: Sylvie Stewart
Publisher: R.A. Pollard Publishing
Library of Congress Control Number
Houston, Texas
Produced in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Sylvie and Manon.
You are my rocks.
Thank you.
CHAPTER ONE
Rage. Rage was all he knew—all he could see and experience. The world outside his mind was red and painful. Every touch against his fur sparked an insatiable lust for destruction and hate. He could feel it pounding in his blood like a living thing, thick and sweet, seductive in its thrall. Each burst of anger swamped the last until he could remember nothing else but the sublime feeling of it.
His large nose to the ground, he inhaled the scent of decaying pine needles and earth. Rain lingered in the air giving the forest around him a mystical hue, causing mist to hang between the trees like smoke. Not a breath of wind marred the hauntingly beautiful scene, yet he didn’t notice the beauty. His sight was set on the kill.
The doe before him was perfect, nature in all its glory, her graceful head down as she nipped gently at the grass. Her long sleek back and powerful legs gave him pause. She would be a strong one—a single kick from those dangerous hooves and he could be in for pain tonight. His mouth watered at the prospect of feeling her blood on his lips, feasting on the hot meat she would provide. She would unknowingly give him a moment’s respite from the madness that crawled through his brain.
One slow movement forward and his muscles bunched, ready for the sprint of speed. Widening the pads of his paws, they sank into the damp detritus on the forest floor leaving no sound. The world around him faded from his mind, all focus on his hunt. He could hear the hard pounding of her heartbeat. She was strong, she would be a good kill. Hunger gnawed at his insides, almost making him leave cover too quickly. His hot breath made small curls of steam rise into the gathering darkness. He held this moment, feeling the exhilaration of knowing he would soon take down this magnificent beast, that she would provide him the sustenance he needed to continue another day.
His dark fur was the perfect camouflage against the darkening forest. With his muscles coiled he waited in powerful glory. A small rustle to his left brought the doe’s head up sharply. Her dark eyes scanned the forest around her for some sign of the intruder. The beast froze, keeping himself hidden, letting the forest noise hide the excited beating of his heart. It was now or never. The deer poised on edge, her body preparing for flight. He launched himself from the cover in a burst of speed that shocked the doe into a few moments of stunned acceptance before she broke into a bounding run away from him.
That pause was all he needed—his powerful legs ate up the distance between them, the flash of her white tail a beacon. She tried valiantly to evade the hunter, her heartbeat loud as a drum to his ears. With a roar, he was in the air and then came down on her back, deadly canines clamping onto the back of her neck. The spry deer aimed a good kick to his midriff bringing a growl of pain from him.
He would not let her suffer. A sharp twist of his large head snapped her neck. He panted hard as he lowered her body to the damp floor, his teeth lodged deeply in her throat until her legs stopped their phantom run.
Hot blood coated his teeth and tongue. He lapped at it frantically, feeling the calming rush of sanity return to his mind for a few moments. Why was it only a kill that brought him a small measure of clarity? As always, he knew he was lost. He also knew he had once been more than this beast, and that he needed to be somewhere else, but he could never remember where. Then in a moment, that blissful clarity was gone as the beast’s drive for food swamped his mind, and the throat of the deer was removed in a spray of blood that covered his face in its sticky copper sweetness.
The heart still had not caught up with the doe, but as the blood pooled out onto the forest floor the final death of the magnificent animal happened. With a growl of hunger, he sank his teeth into tender flesh, pulling back and swallowing with gusto. The stomach of the great beast was never sated. He had to hunt once, maybe twice a day to keep himself from losing what little sanity remained in his mind.
As the belly of the beast became full he continued swallowing, determined to overeat—the longer he could go without hunting the better his control over the hunger became. He tore into the soft underbelly of the doe, eating heartily of the blood-rich liver and heart. He had learned early in his madness, the more he fed the less he craved, so he hunted endlessly, searching for what could sate him.
Finally done, unable to eat any more of the worthy prey, he sat back, licking the sticky blood matting the black fur down his front. Now fed he would sleep, safe from the nightmares that sparked the endless rage in his blood. Trotting off into the forest, he knew nature would ensure not a morsel of his prey would remain by morning. The inhabitants of the forest were efficient scavengers; they would pick the bones clean, and the deer would return to the earth to be born again.
The other animals of the forest gave him a wide berth. Birds called out in warning, rabbits rushed for cover, even the other predators of the forest avoided his presence. The scent of a bobcat, a black bear, and the ot
her wolves of the forest mingled around him. Fear permeated their scents. They knew better than to face something they recognized as unnatural.
The great wolf-like creature emerged from the forest onto a rocky overhang. He had chased off the mountain lion that had made this outcropping home and claimed it for himself. Sleep would take the beast soon, then would come the memories—faces he could not remember, voices that stirred emotions so deeply they fed the wrath in his soul. He hated sleep, wished he would forget those faces and voices that called to something deep inside him, something he didn’t recognize.
He flopped down on the stone, his body soaking up the lingering warmth from the day’s sun that saturated the rock. He huffed out a large breath of air, sending steam rising from his mouth. Sleep called to him, pulling the great beast down into the abyss of his madness. Satanus, Sin of Wrath, son of Hades, sank into the nightmare, a nightmare where he did not remember being anything but the beast that had consumed his soul.
CHAPTER TWO
Layla Thorne hugged her afghan closer to her body as the chilled wind rushed past, bringing the sound of an animal’s death to her ears. She let out a shivered breath as she scanned the night for an injured beast—they always managed to find her. Ever since she was a child the beasts of the world found her, both mythical and mortal. Her breath misted gently on the air, her back illuminated by the glow of the cabin. Inside, the soft musical tones of her twin sister, Lexi, humming gently drove away the aching silence.
The door opened and her sister moved to stand beside her. Both were tall, with the same dirty blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Though Layla would say her eyes were like azure blue seas, and her sister’s more like the sky on a stormy day. Lexi was definitely the more emotional of the pair, feeling everything at the soul level. She had no choice—her healing gift came with a painful and possibly deadly side effect. She could literally feel when people needed healing, no matter where she was.
Layla’s power, however, was quite different. She communicated with the beasts of the world. She could speak to them as if they were people before her. They trusted her, and came to her when they needed aid. Over her life, she had touched unicorns, run her hand through a black bear’s wiry fur, taken a ride on a griffin, and conversed with a nagga sea serpent.
Together, she, the tamer, and her twin sister, the healer, had saved the lives of countless animals that came to their door. Tonight would be no different, she could feel it in the air. Something was out there, something in immense pain. A deep pain called to something within her, aching to help the poor beast that seemed lost in the darkness.
The bond between the sisters meant she could feel what her sister felt, and vice-versa. Turning her head to her sister, Lexi leaned back against the wrap-around porch of their small cabin and crossed her arms over her chest. Only here in this place did Lexi truly show the woman she was inside. Around everyone else she was cold and solid as rock. No one other than Layla, their mother, and Layla’s five-year-old daughter had ever breached the stone wall that surrounded her.
“I know what you are going to say, Lexi. No more strays.” The running joke between them brought a small smile to Lexi’s face. She shook her head and shrugged.
“I know you won’t be able to help yourself. The barn is getting full with your collection, you know, and who is the one taking care of them?”
“Me. Don’t act like the victim, Lex, it doesn’t suit you. You love those animals just as much as me. Don’t think I don’t see you in there giving that pegasus carrots when I’m not looking.”
Her twin made a huffing noise, and the pair of them giggled low. Lexi moved to sit beside her sister and opened the blanket so they could share it. Like everything else in their lives, they were half of one whole. Together they were happy and safe, apart they always felt alone and out of place. Blond heads pressed together as the women sat in silence for a moment. Today was a tough day; today was the day their mother had died five years ago, leaving them alone with powers they needed to keep hidden from the world.
Annabelle Thorne had moved her twin daughters out here into the middle of nowhere the moment the girls began to show signs of powers far beyond those of normal mortals. The twins had been raised in the high mountains of Montana, learning from a woman who respected and loved nature. From her they knew to accept their wonderful gifts, and to use them when they could, but only if they were safe.
Safe—such a small word and used so often. Layla had believed they were all safe once, until she met Richard Tice. That man had swept into her life, swept her off her feet, and then dumped her the moment he discovered being a twenty-year-old father was not what he wanted. Most men had a spine, and would have at least stuck around to see the child born. He had run so fast from the town of Stillwater, Montana, that he left scorch marks on the dirt. He left behind a pregnant Layla, and a really pissed off twin sister who vowed she would castrate him with a spoon if she ever saw him again. Layla did not doubt for a moment her sister would do it, too.
Layla, on the other hand, accepted her fate, and gave birth to a wonderful baby girl with eyes so light blue they looked like ice, but held nothing but warmth and an ageless soul that shone from her. That was five years ago, the night her wonderful daughter had been gifted to her—the same night their mother had died trying to reach them through a snow storm.
The universe worked in balance; one thing came into your life and another had to leave. At least that was what their mother believed. Layla looked back at the door. Annabelle, named after her grandmother, slept in her small room, surrounded by warmth and love, and more than one stray bobcat that called the cabin home.
“Did she go down okay?”
“You know she did. Even filled with enough birthday cake to sink a ship, that girl is pure angel. I swear she looks at you with eyes that have seen the universe. She has a soul much older than us, sis.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it. You know what she said to me today? Make sure you make up the spare room, Mommy, we’re going to have a guest. A guest? I had to inform her that Fluffy and Buttcheek don’t count as guests.”
Lexi snorted a laugh. Neither could keep a straight face when those two bobcats’ names were uttered. Annabelle had decided on their names, and there was no changing them. So it was Fluffy and Buttcheek, despite all efforts to get the child to not call the fat one Buttcheek. She stuck to her stubborn guns, and of course, got her way.
“Don’t laugh, you just encourage her. Buttcheek. I still can’t get my head around it. She swears Grandma Annie sent them to her. Only our mother would send my daughter a pair of wild bobcats to protect her.”
“That she would. You know she always believed there was a reason for every action of the universe. Including you having Belle, even if it was with that asshole Richard.”
“Lex, let’s not do this again; it was almost six years ago. He gave me her, that is what I am thankful for. I learned from that, no more men. We will grow old together, and in our dotage Annabelle can look after us and the menagerie of animals I intend to have.”
The groan from her sister made her chuckle. The touching moment was shattered by the cry of a wounded beast. The sound had them both standing up quickly and facing the black forest. This was not a cry of physical pain, this was emotional, soul stirringly desperate. Something terrible had driven that poor beast to roar out its fear into the night. Lexi shivered and grabbed Layla by the hand, pulling her toward the door quickly.
“Let’s get inside. Whatever that is, I don’t want it anywhere near this cabin, or my family.”
Layla paused and looked back into the darkness. Something made her heart thud hard in her chest and the bottom drop out of her soul. That poor animal needed help, despite her sister’s worry. She knew she would not rest until she knew why that animal cried out in human-like anguish.
CHAPTER THREE
“Mommy! Mommy! Look what Buttcheek brought me!” The excited voice of a five-year-old filled the kitchen. Layla turned, not sure wha
t she was expecting, but it was not the half-eaten squirrel in the hands of her young daughter.
“Belle, sweetheart, please put the dead squirrel outside. It was very nice of him, but you don’t need to be touching that nasty thing. Okay?” Layla shook her head. Since the two bobcats had taken up residence in the house six months ago, they regularly brought back half-eaten treats. Almost as if saying she was not feeding her daughter enough—as if to say, Look, I provided more food. She was going to have a stern talk with Buttcheek; that animal was going to drive her insane with his sarcastic comments that he could raise her “kitten” better then she could.
Annabelle looked down forlornly at the “present” she had been given, and then smiled, skipping from the room, her white blond hair flowing around her heart-shaped face. She exited the house as the cause of this morning’s disgusting smell jumped up onto the counter to proudly lick his huge paws and stare Layla down.
“I have asked you not to bring that stuff into the house, you mangy cat.”
The large cat tilted his head to the side, his golden eyes regarding the human before him. His spotted fur was much richer since he decided on living in the human dwelling, besides the fact it was not cold inside. They made a nice warm place, and he liked the warmth. Shaking out his fuzzy beard he yawned, stretching his dangerous-looking claws, and refraining from digging them into the wood. This place was not his to mark, he could mark outside—that point had been driven home very early. Still, the human had not found the marks behind the door to the “kitten’s” room.
The kitten will not survive the winter if she does not eat more. I must provide, as you clearly fail at hunting. I am a good hunter.
To Layla, his voice in her mind was like an old man speaking—warm but filled with authority. And he would brook no argument. She could swear half the time the damn cat wanted to steal her child and raise her out in the forest somewhere.