Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4

by Melissa Delport

  She finally found them, forming a rudimentary circle before a small crag which overlooked a narrow stream. The pack had ventured very near Giant’s Castle and Quinn crept through the trees, trying to get ahead of them. She spotted Caleb, his tawny coat a dead giveaway. A slightly shorter wolf than Rafe, he was far stockier, and powerful muscles rippled beneath his coat. Fresh blood stained his muzzle, gleaming black in the moonlight. The sight of the blood sickened her and the horrendous image of the foal’s body swum in her mind’s eye. As Quinn watched, Caleb threw back his head and howled, the amplified sound in such close proximity almost unbearable. A movement in her peripheral vision distracted her, and Quinn turned to watch as Rafe slunk out from behind the crag, his yellow eyes glowing brightly. Channon followed closely behind him.

  The two male wolves circled one another, engaged in a deadly dance that could only end one way. Quinn slowly lowered herself onto one knee, lifting the crossbow and peering through the sight. She fixed her aim on the red wolf, following his progress. About to pull the trigger, she stopped herself only just in time as Rafe’s grey form moved between her and Caleb. Cursing, Quinn waited until he had moved away and then she took aim once more. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her palms were slick with sweat. Killing a werewolf went against everything she stood for. The fact that Caleb was cruel and vicious didn’t change the fact that he was a ward of Summerfeld and the wolf’s blood in her system fought to protect him. Also, if she killed Caleb, Quinn would never find the answers she was looking for. She would never have the opportunity to question him about Avery’s death. But Avery was gone and Rafe was still here. She wasn’t able to save her sister, but she could save her friend.

  Too late, Quinn realised she had missed her opportunity. Caleb had moved out of the line of fire and she would have to wait for him to circle around again. She counted the breaths as she watched, waiting for another opportunity, but it didn’t come. Caleb attacked, suddenly and without hesitation, going straight for Rafe’s throat. Rafe leapt forward to meet him, and then the two were locked in a deadly duel, twisting and snapping as each tried to gain the upper hand.

  Staring helplessly through the crossbow sight, Quinn realised she would never get a clean shot. They were moving too fast, and she could just as easily hit Rafe. Rafe’s snarls slowly morphed into yelps of pain and Quinn cast the crossbow aside as she scrambled to her feet and rushed forward. Channon’s howl of fear rent the air as Quinn reached the place where Rafe and Caleb were fighting, but as she pulled back her leg to kick out at the red wolf, she was shoved aside with great force. Swiveling around, her eyes widened in shock.

  At first, the traditional garb led her to believe it was Daniel who had intervened, but then the light of the full moon lit upon the silver-grey hair and she realised that it was Isaiah, naked from the waist up. As she watched, he turned, grabbing Caleb around the mid-section and hauled him off Rafe, who Caleb had finally managed to pin down. Caleb issued a yelp of surprise as Isaiah threw him bodily into the crag of rocks. Unbelievably, Isaiah held no weapon, but Quinn still cringed away from the terrifying sight of him. There was no warmth in his amber eyes as he faced the red wolf, and his pale skin gleamed white. He barely seemed human.

  Caleb, redirecting his fury, launched himself at Isaiah and Quinn shouted out a warning as he soared through the air. She lost sight of Isaiah as the wolf collided with him, knocking him to the floor. Isaiah grappled fiercely, keeping Caleb at arm’s length as his fangs gnashed together time and time again, saliva flying from his jaws and into Isaiah’s face. Only inches separated them and the muscles in Isaiah’s arms bulged with the effort of restraining him. Quinn moved forward, desperate to help, but the wolf pack stalked between her and Isaiah, forming a formidable line. Their message was clear – they would not harm her, but she was not to interfere.

  What happened next obliterated all other thoughts from Quinn’s mind. Despite his hopelessly defenseless position, Isaiah suddenly flung Caleb off as though the wolf weighed nothing. Getting to his feet, an eerie calm came over Isaiah and he moved with purpose towards Caleb, who was back on the offensive. This time, when Caleb struck, Isaiah deflected him easily. Too easily, even for such a highly-skilled Guardian. Quinn watched, entranced, as he spurned Caleb’s every attempt with almost no effort. Quinn could have sworn that Isaiah was intentionally holding back. Eventually, tiring of the ceaseless onslaught, Isaiah moved, faster than Quinn could believe possible, and encircled Caleb’s throat in his powerful arms. The wolf’s back legs dangled over a foot off the floor.

  “Enough,” he growled menacingly, exerting just enough pressure that Caleb yelped in pain. The pack whined, in unison. “You cannot defeat me, Caleb,” Isaiah continued. “I was created to protect you, but I am more than equipped to destroy you. You will leave this place and you will never attack Rafe again. Do you understand?” he gave another ruthless twist of his arm and Caleb’s eyes rolled wildly in his head.

  Isaiah released him then, shoving him savagely aside. Caleb glared hatefully at him, but Isaiah paid no heed, turning instead to Rafe. Bending over his prostrate form, Isaiah moved his hands gently over Rafe’s body, searching for injuries. The infinitely gentle way he handled the wounded wolf was in such stark contrast to the terrifying violence he had just displayed that at first Quinn didn’t notice the dark form creeping up behind him. This time she didn’t hesitate. As Caleb hurled himself toward Isaiah, Quinn threw herself forward, pulling her knife from its sheath as she went. Isaiah turned, a moment too late, and Caleb landed heavily on top of him, the force knocking him to the ground once more. Quinn met Isaiah’s gaze over Caleb’s shoulder, her hand still gripping the handle of the dagger she had run through the wolf’s shoulder.

  The explosion that followed had Quinn clapping her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the noise. The entire wolf pack was howling, one long mournful cry after another. Isaiah cast Caleb’s lifeless form aside and Quinn, still lying across his back, toppled to the ground, knocking her chin painfully on a small rock. The taste of blood in her mouth was the least of her concerns. Rafe had finally managed to get to his feet, his grey coat sticky with blood, and Quinn quickly shepherded him and Channon back toward the rocky outcrop, leaving Isaiah to deal with the pack.

  Within minutes the cacophony died down. Quinn busied herself checking that Rafe had sustained no life-threatening injuries, but she was desperate to know what was going on. And then there was absolute silence. Quinn hadn’t heard the wolves leave, but she could sense that they were no longer there.

  Without warning, Channon bolted, dodging out from the rocks and hurtling into the night.

  “Channon!” Quinn yelled, scrambling after her, but it was no use. Channon was gone and standing alone beside Caleb’s body, stood Isaiah.

  “Quinn, what did you do?” His expression was hard and he was shaking with emotion. It was the last thing she expected.

  “I… he was going to kill you.”

  “He was going to try… again. I knew he would and I was ready for it! Of course he wouldn’t listen to me the first time. It was inevitable that he would make one last effort to kill me. When he failed, he would have realised that he had no choice but to obey.”

  Quinn thought back to the moment that Caleb had hurled himself at Isaiah. She didn’t see how Isaiah could have defended himself and she found that she didn’t care.

  “Well, he’s gone,” she said. “And I’m not sorry. Besides, you’re a fine one to talk! What happened to all that preaching about not getting involved in pack business?”

  Despite himself, Isaiah smiled.

  “I am obliged to guide us on the right course,” he explained. “But I could not stand back and allow our friend to die.”

  “Well, neither could I. I guess you and I are more alike than we thought.”

  “Of that I have never had any doubt,” he replied enigmatically.

  “What will happen now?”

  “You killed the Alph
a, leaving the pack with no hierarchy and they cannot function as a unit without one.”

  “Couldn’t we just reinstate Rafe?”

  “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Will they be furious with me?” The thought that the pack she held so dear might turn against her was crucifying Quinn.

  “No. You are still their Guardian, they will not turn on you. But they will need a leader. With any luck, one of the younger males will try and assert dominance before the night is out.”

  As if on cue, the mournful lament in the distance transformed, becoming deeper and more guttural. The sounds of snarling reached them, even from here.

  “Leave it,” Isaiah ordered, as Quinn took a step toward the sound. “They need to resolve it their way. We have done enough.”

  Quinn’s eyes came to rest on Caleb’s body, a sense of sadness coming over her. Any information he may have had regarding Avery’s death was gone.

  “There’s something you should know,” she told Isaiah, leaning over and pulling her dagger from the wolf’s shoulder. “Caleb killed a unicorn foal.”

  Isaiah made a choking sound. “That’s not possible.”

  “I saw it with my own eyes,” Quinn countered, though she could still scarcely believe it herself. “The herd is in a state.”

  His mouth pressed together in a grim line.

  “We will go to them, but first we need to make sure that Rafe is all right.”

  Together they waited with Rafe until the sun came up. The sounds of ferocious fighting slowly dwindled and Quinn wondered which wolf, if any, had triumphed over the pack tonight. She could think of a few younger males who might overcome their pack mates, none of whom came close to Rafe, but all of whom would make a better Alpha than Caleb, in her opinion. She pinned her hopes on Dominic, a fully grown, agile young wolf who had always enjoyed a good relationship with Rafe, and who was rumoured to be dating Rayna, Rafe’s sister. It occurred to Quinn that Vivienne’s death would have affected Rayna just as badly as it had Rafe, and she felt a twinge of guilt that she had been too preoccupied with her own problems these past few weeks to reach out to the girl.

  As the sun rose over the hills in the distance, Rafe slowly transformed, and, in human form, got unsteadily to his feet. His injuries were extensive, but he would live. Quinn supported him on one side and Isaiah on the other as they picked their way over the rocks, their progress laboriously slow. Quinn was focused on the ground ahead, and initially she didn’t notice Rafe lift his head.

  “You…” he breathed in disbelief.

  Quinn jerked up to find Channon emerging from the trees. Her naked body was filthy and covered in blood, and more seeped from her left ear, the top of which had been ripped off. Wordlessly, she moved to the stream, washing the blood from her mouth and chin.

  There was a pride to her stance that Quinn had never seen before; her head held higher, and her back straighter than before. Despite her small frame, she seemed larger than life. Only when she finally approached them and Rafe dropped to his knees in the dirt before her, did comprehension dawn on Quinn. Stunned, she turned to Isaiah, who nodded in confirmation. Channon had just become the new Alpha.

  Chapter 24

  Hundreds of miles away Charlotte watched another wolf shift slowly back into human form. Her childlike face showed no hint of compassion for the agony that accompanied his transformation. Only when the muscular, golden-haired man lay gasping on the cold floor at her feet, did she compose her features into an expression of empathetic concern.

  “Welcome back, Tane, my love,” she crooned, placing a blanket across his shoulders.

  Tane threw the blanket off, getting to his feet. Without a trace of modesty, he stretched, easing his tensed muscles and shaking off the last spasms of the change. Charlotte smiled seductively up at him, tracing the contours of his chest with one finger.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Good,” he admitted. He glanced around him at the bodies littering the room; all young women; once beautiful, and now very dead. A whimper nearby caught his attention; not all dead, then. He stalked over to the girl who still lived, kicking aside the bodies that lay in his way.

  “Oh, you forgot one,” Charlotte simpered beside him. “Allow me,” she added, curling her lip and extending her fangs.

  “Help me, please,” the girl pleaded, before Charlotte sank her fangs into her tender neck, silencing her once and for all.

  Tane watched, his loins stirring at the sight. Charlotte ensured that his appetite was sated during the full moon, but without a female wolf his desire to mate could not be fulfilled. Crouching behind Charlotte, he snatched at the bodice of her dress and ripped it clean apart, exposing the back of her naked, nubile body. Charlotte continued to drink, draining every last drop of blood from the young woman’s veins while Tane crouched behind her, using her own body to satiate his lust.

  When it was over, Charlotte dropped her ruined gown to the floor and the two made their way through the basement to which Tane was confined once a month. Comprised of two sections, Charlotte had had it redesigned to resemble a medieval dungeon, complete with stone floors and walls. The room that they were currently in was spacious and contained very little furniture. A small door on the far right wall led to the second section of the basement, behind which were cells which Charlotte used to imprison and torture anyone who offended her. Tane hesitated as they reached the door.

  “Should we go in?” he asked cruelly, his bloodlust still pounding through his veins.

  “No,” Charlotte snapped. “I gave my word.”

  “And since when have you kept to your word?” he taunted, groping her bare breast.

  “Enough,” Charlotte slapped his hand away and moved instead to the door that would lead them up into the main house.

  The manor house itself was beautiful, although dimly lit, with heavy curtains that allowed no sunlight to penetrate. The furnishings were expensive and old-fashioned, but lacked the sadistic depth of the dungeon. The two levels represented the two lives that Charlotte had lived. Down below she embraced her vampiric sadism, while above ground her human life was represented by the very things her family had accumulated.

  “Frederick,” Charlotte addressed the vampire henchman who stood at the foot of the stairs, unfazed by their nudity. Dozens of compelled human servants waited on Charlotte day and night, catering to her every whim, and feeding her a constant supply of human blood, but she treated her vampire servants with a modicum of respect. “We seem to have made a bit of a mess down in the basement. Ensure that somebody cleans it up,” Charlotte instructed. “Also, when my guests arrive, please have them seated in the dining hall.”

  “Yes, Miss Charlotte,” Frederick bowed low and then walked back in the direction from which they had just come.

  “Miss Charlotte,” Tane teased, missing the flash of irritation that crossed her face.

  “Frederick has been with me a very long time,” she reminded him.

  This much was true. Charlotte had turned Frederick within a few months of being reborn. The manor house had been her family home, and Frederick her favourite among the legion of servants employed by her father. She had spared his life when she returned, and allowed him to serve her instead, granting him the gift of immortality for his loyalty.

  Charlotte ascended the stairs, pausing in front of a magnificent portrait that adorned the landing. Briefly tracing her mother’s face, she glanced down and smiled at her own image, immortalised on the canvas. The portrait had been commissioned just a year before she had been turned, and she looked much the same now as she had then, save for the eyes. Not a trace of the doe-eyed innocence remained.

  “What happened to them?” Tane asked, out of curiosity.

  “I killed them,” Charlotte replied sweetly, turning to face him. “My father tried to control me my whole life. I saw to it that he suffered terribly for his crimes. My mother,” she emitted a dramatic sigh before continuing, “pleaded for his life. I offered to tur
n her, but she called me names. She thought me possessed by an evil demon.”

  “So you killed her?” Tane was impressed.

  “I offered to turn her,” she pointed out petulantly. “She declined. I had little choice.”

  “You are a twisted little bitch,” he grinned, nipping her ear lobe.

  “Enough of that,” Charlotte slapped him away. “You have had your fun; now it is time to get back to work. Make sure to stay up here until I send for you.”

  One of the servant girls had run her bath and Charlotte washed quickly before donning a clean pair of pants and a white blouse. She only used her old gowns for special occasions, although at the rate Tane was destroying them, she would soon have none left. The werewolf had gone to clean himself up in the room down the hall. Charlotte refused to allow him to permanently share the bedroom which had once belonged to her parents, although she did allow him to visit her here regularly. Tane now occupied her old bedroom, which had housed many suitors in the five hundred odd years since she had presided over the manor.

  Charlotte could never have imagined the power that becoming a vampire had afforded her. She thought often of her former naiveté; her intrinsic human weakness and how foolish she had been. She had loved Drake, but she had loved her human life more. Or so she thought. That was why she had been so against him turning her, why she had appealed to his compassionate side – his human side. She had vowed to live out her days loving him, and then to go to her grave and be at peace. That was how it should be, she had thought. Charlotte smiled now, recalling her ignorant idealism. Only when she had been reborn had she truly started living. She now had an eternity stretching out before her, to indulge in every fantasy she had ever dreamed of. Drake had been weak; she saw that the moment she opened her eyes as a God among men. She had given him a chance to prove himself – to become the man he was born to be, but he had failed in every respect and she w