Wild Hearts
Page 1
WILD HEARTS
Blood Moon Legacy 1
Rhea Regale
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
WILD HEARTS
Copyright © 2010 by Rhea Regale
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-784-5
First E-book Publication: April 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter from Rhea Regale
Regarding Ebook Piracy
Dear Readers,
There is nothing I enjoy more than creating a story that can whisk you away. Sharing my characters and worlds with you gives me some of the greatest pleasure. Putting a smile on your face, and a sigh of happiness on your lips, is what I strive to provide for you, my readers.
Unfortunately, as many of you know, the ever-growing problem with ebook piracy takes a tremendous toll on writers. Please spread the word that pirating ebooks is illegal, it’s theft, and will eventually destroy everything we’ve worked so hard to provide for you.
If you enjoy my stories, please show your support by doing the right thing. Don’t upload my work to forums or sites to be shared with others. If you find a site offering a free copy of my story, please notify me or my publisher immediately.
And don’t download copies from any sites offering my work for free. It is illegal. Should you do so, you will be stealing my hard work.
Without the loyal support and following of you, my readers, there would be no stories to share. Writing is my livelihood, and it’s a means to support my family. I look forward to continue writing for your enjoyment.
With deep gratitude,
Rhea Regale
DEDICATION
To my dear husband. You are truly the love of my life, the legs I stand on, and the inspiration to follow my dreams.
WILD HEARTS
Blood Moon Legacy 1
RHEA REGALE
Copyright © 2010
Prologue
The white wolf is revered in the were community, a sign from the spirits of prosperity and good times to come. She is an alpha female who gives hope to her fellow wolves and reigns control over all. As with any admired creature comes those who wish to watch her fall from grace.
Twenty-five years ago, a group of rebel wolves slipped into the quaint town of Hood River and slaughtered all residing white wolves, leaving the local packs in panic and dishevelment.
No one heard the single cry of an infant being pulled from her dead mother’s womb. Beneath a red moon and the cold cloak of night, a man carted a newborn far away from the carnage, praying to the spirits she may live to carry on the legacy of her bloodline.
And so began the legend of the Blood Moon Legacy.
Chapter One
Winter arrived in the mountains, and it did not come alone.
Coal Demmering sat back on his haunches, nose tipped to the sky. The scent of crisp air, wood, and wildlife assaulted him like a sensual toxin. He loved the early winter nights when the trees swayed naked and the sky dazzled with millions of stars. He loved the moon hung high and bright at any stage and the reflection of its glamorous glow across the lake’s crystalline surface.
The winter always brought a deep desire to mate. The upcoming full moon stoked his carnal needs, as it did any male wolf who sought a companion.
Until this night, he had sought futile grounds. Fucking women, both human and wolf, became a boring pastime. As old as he was, he needed something different. Something new and spicy.
Dead leaves and twigs cracked and crunched behind him. He sniffed the air, catching the familiar scent of his best friend far before the gray wolf settled beside him. One large green eye observed him, reading his thoughts as best as the man could.
Keeping the telepathic link severed, Coal turned back to the small cabin just beyond the forest break. The half-moon spilled white light over the quaint home, drenching it in warmth despite its abandonment.
Not for long, he thought.
He heard the methodical crunch of tires in the distance rolling up the long driveway. Rubber popped pebbles and stones into the forest, ricocheting off ground and trees. Blinding rays from headlights created a dizzying strobe effect through the dense trees and brush, casting shadows against shadows. Coal pressed to his paws and stretched out his hind legs. His ears perked up, as did a more primal part of his anatomy. His friend stepped back, lowering close to the ground as the whitewash coasted over them. Coal kept still, his thick black coat surely blending with the night.
The car rolled to a stop at the foot of the cabin’s porch stairs.
The scent of woman untangled from the unpleasant odor of car exhaust, hot metal, gas, and rubber. It was a very familiar scent of rustic wilderness and untamed blood.
Coal connected the telepathic link with Jacy.
“Do you smell her?” he asked. Jacy tipped his snout toward the cabin. His black nostrils flared.
“Wolf? Fucking crazy. I smell wolf, and I smell a good fuck.”
“Hey, she’s Old Man Smith’s granddaughter. The one everyone believed dead. Show a bit of respect for his kin.”
“She’s wolf at heart, Coal. She’ll be a bitch in bed. You’ll see.”
Coal growled a deep rumble low in his throat. His hackles rose, his pointed ears lying flat against his head.
“Don’t you go after her, Jacy. Before Old Man’s death, he confided in me the bloodline extended to this woman. She’s unfamiliar with her history. She may not even know she’s a wolf.”
Jacy’s snout lowered as the car’s engine cut off. Coal lowered himself to the ground and crept forward, keeping his ears pricked for any threat. He wanted to get a good look at this creature. Her scent enticed the deepest part of his spirit, awakened a slumbering craving. He had to heed his own warning to Jacy. As thick as he grew in wolf form, he couldn’t jump the woman.
At least not tonight.
The lock clicked, and the car door swung open. Coal swallowed as one long leg appeared, bare except for an
ankle-strap black pump and a skirt that bunched high up a creamy thigh. Jacy purred at his side, taking short, deep sniffs of the air.
“God, she smells sweet. The forest must be turning her on.”
Coal looked at his friend. He smiled, bearing white teeth. The woman did smell fantastic. So much so, he almost transformed to quell the throb in his cock. The wild wreaked havoc with the wolf side. If she did indeed carry the white wolf blood, the upcoming full moon definitely toyed with her body. Hell, instinct wouldn’t be the only thing toying with her.
The woman pulled herself out of the car using the door. Jacy buckled. Coal froze.
“Who would’ve guessed Old Man Smith could create a child who could create that?”
Coal silently agreed with his friend. Staring at the curvy backside of the woman brought every carnal thought to the surface. Dark, thick waves cascaded down her back, glistening beneath the opulent moonlight. Her body narrowed at the waist and curved to create one luscious mound of ass. Long, slender legs, delicately defined by feminine muscle, extended from beneath the hiked skirt.
She turned her face to the moon. The light cast the articulate molding of her profile in different degrees of light and shadow. Beautiful. Sexy. Entirely wild.
Coal swatted his snout with a thick paw. The wolf in him demanded he take her without prelude. The man in him demanded he wait. Tonight was not the night.
“Hope there’re no creepy critters inside, Gramps. You know I hate ’em.”
Jacy laughed inside Coal’s mind. Coal shook his head. Her voice purred out words with a sharp edge. What he’d do to feel her sucking his cock while purring her thoughts.
Unable to control the heat in his wolf body, Coal prepared to transform.
A fur-raising crack echoed through the night. Jacy growled, shifting beside him. Coal searched the area for the alien scent that wafted along the cool night breeze.
“Fuck. They know too.”
Jacy’s declaration sparked new worry in his gut. Their primary reason for scouting the area was to ensure the woman’s safety, not discover a fuck friend. And here they stood, enamored and coiling with desire while hunters approached across the way.
“Go around the car and keep her safe from that side. I’ll handle the one coming up the hill.”
Jacy bounded off, keeping to the trees for cover. Coal slinked along the edge of the clearing, his attention shifting between the woman and the hidden threat. He could smell her fear and worry like acid. His fur bristled, his upper jowl pulled back in warning.
Just then, he caught the reflective flash of eyes.
Two pairs trained on the woman. She slammed the car door shut, her gaze shooting from the cabin to the looming trees, to her purse, and to the lake.
The wolves emerged, eyes glowing and teeth bared, glistening with saliva. Coal leaped into the clearing, landing in front of the woman. Nails on metal stung his ears, and Jacy landed at his side. Together, they advanced the trespassing wolves. Behind them, the woman gasped for breath, her mind churning her fears.
Coal glanced at Jacy.
“You hear her? Do you think…”
“Try it,” Jacy pressed and stepped away from Coal to broaden their territory. The other wolves backed up. One paused and leaned back just before he lunged. Coal leaped forward, crashing his heavy body into the attacking wolf’s, bringing them both tumbling to the ground. Dull pain sliced through his shoulder as the enemy grappled sharp nails against his flesh. He snarled, swatting the assailant’s snout until the coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils and triggered his underlying hunger. He stomped one big paw on the wolf’s face before burying his deadly teeth into his neck.
“Granddaughter of Jacob Smith, go inside and lock your doors. We are here to protect you.” Coal sent the message to the woman, hoping his assumptions proved true. If he could determine her thoughts, a line might be established.
Jacy arced over him, colliding in a crushing thump with the other wolf. Coal’s contender thrashed beneath him, growling and yelping. A door slammed in the distance.
Never once releasing his throat, Coal climbed on top of the massive wolf, pinning him down and revealing a fatal shot to the underside of his neck. He pulled his teeth from the thick flesh and buried them back in the enemy’s throat. Blood gushed into his mouth as he opened vital arteries. A howl pierced the night, deafening him. The wolf fought to push him off. Coal’s deep, rumbling growl preceded a sharp jerk, tearing the wolf’s throat beyond repair. He backed off the animal, licking his own snout clean, while the enemy pressed to his paws and stumbled off to the trees. Jacy’s boy pulled out from beneath his friend, bounding after his dying comrade.
Coal snorted, trotting back to the trees, Jacy in tow. Once in the protection of darkness, he transformed into his human shape. Jacy emerged a moment later, a malicious smile on his face. Coal snickered, his gaze lowering to the erect evidence of his friend’s excitement.
“It seems we’re not the only ones who want that woman,” Coal said. He combed a hand through his mussed hair and cast a glance toward the cabin. Yellow light filled every window on this side of the place. The woman’s silhouetted movements crossed through each patch of light on the ground.
Jacy stretched his arms over his head and then folded them over his chest. “She’s a white wolf?”
“According to Old Man Smith, she was thrown into hiding after her birth. He was the only living relative to keep contact with her, and that was limited to a letter once a year.”
“The legacy is true then.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Coal’s gaze drifted to the trees behind the cabin. Death raised its rancid stench into the crisp air. His enemy had died. “Although, I think this night is proof enough the legacy is true. Why else would members of the Dark Moon pack come here?”
* * * *
Shyla Smith paced the cold living room of the small cabin. Goose bumps covered her from shoulder to ankle. Shivers of fright raked along her spine. Her eyes darted around the room, gauging the safety of such a structure against a small pack of determined wolves.
Dear God, why did she come out here?
Because Gramps asked you to come out and take care of his home.
Shyla paused and shook her head at the wear and tear of the wooden planks beneath her brutal pumps. She answered the silent request of her grandfather’s last letter to tend to his belongings once he was gone. Even though she had met the man only once in her twenty-six years, she couldn’t deny him this request. He filled her with history of her ancestry, though never mentioned her real parents other than once. Through written words, he created a bond with her that extended far beyond daily hugs and kisses. She felt as if he linked with her soul, hooked a seldom seen area in a person’s being, and she loved him tremendously for it.
She grieved his death and, for the first time, hated that city life prevented her from making his funeral.
She wanted to see him one last time.
Moving to one of the rickety glass windows, Shyla peered out into the night. Her welcoming committee had not been the most hospitable, having her second-guessing her choice to spend time out in the wilderness. She harbored a terrible aversion to anything with more than four legs and smaller than a Chihuahua pup, right down to the horrific spider building a web against the corner of the sill. She shuddered, lifting her gaze to the clear black sky. The soft moonlight did something to her. It warmed her, soothed her spirit, and calmed her frazzled nerves. Growing up in a plague of artificial lights and never-ending noises, the quiet and beauty of this wooded territory was a tranquil escape.
Maybe I can learn to love this.
Still, her unusual experience with the wolves only minutes ago stuck with her, as did the loud voice demanding her to go inside. Did wolves outright attack humans? Is that normal behavior for wild animals? Why did two seem to be consciously protecting her while two consciously stalked her? Why did that voice sound so real?
For wild wolves, they left a lasting
impression of more humane creatures than not. Now, that was absurd. Gramps may have indulged in his beliefs of wolf men or groups of people throughout the small town that lived with wild blood in their veins. He may have shared stories about the revered white wolf and the massacre that destroyed all of them due to jealousy.
“People do not turn into wolves, Shyla,” she muttered to herself, her breath fogging the cold glass.
“What if they do?” the tiny black shadow slithering deep within her spirit whispered. “What if you do?”
“Nonsense. I’m a city girl. I’d have to love romping around naked in the woods to be considered a likely candidate for werewolfhood.”
A sharp bang on the front door jolted her. She reeled away from the window with a gasp, wide eyes locked on the simple wooden door. A softer knock followed. She pulled her coat tight around her, slinking deeper into the cabin.
“Miss Smith?”
Shyla swallowed. Who in the world would know her name? Hell, who would’ve known she was coming out here?
The heavily rich voice of the man inquiring from the porch caressed her shaken nerves. Despite her better judgment to play deaf, she moved to the door and slowly eased it open.
Oh God. Shyla stared through the mesh screen door at the sinfully gorgeous man standing on her grandfather’s porch. That damn shadow inside her mind snapped, “Mine!” as she forced herself to rein in a rush of heat that crashed through her body.
The man, surely a head taller than herself, offered an arched brow. Although the lighting was poor, she managed to make out his articulately chiseled features, from the hints of Native American blood in his strong jaw and cheeks to immaculately molded lips and sharp nose. His dark brows served to enhance the exotic tilt of equally dark eyes.