Kiss OF FIRE
A Whitemoon Warriors Novel
Kiss of Fire
© 2019 Nichole Wolfe. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact the author at:
Nichole Wolfe
1727 W. Main Street
Valley View, PA 17983
[email protected]
ISBN: 9781793891464
Visit the author’s website at www.nicholewolfe.com
This book is dedicated to:
My children, who motivate me, inspire me, and make this crazy life just a little crazier.
I love you, Kyla and Jace.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank the indie author community for being so incredibly supportive and helpful in my journey. Special thanks goes to Jonny Andrews and the Author Marketing Association for the awesome tips and tricks (and Jonny’s hilarious live videos). You all make the not-so-fun parts of publishing a lot more bearable and even enjoyable on occasion. I look forward to watching many more videos, and reading many more inspiring posts.
PROLOGUE
Something’s wrong, she thought as she stared up at her mother’s pale face. Her mother shivered in the damp, cold air of the cell they’d been thrown in several hours ago. She rubbed her hands over the bruises that blotched her mother’s arms.
“Are you cold, mommy?” she asked, and her mother smiled down at her, running her fingers over her own cheek.
“No, baby, I’m fine,” her mother whispered as her body shook again. She wanted to ask one of the guards for a blanket or coat to wrap around her mother, but, even in her short life, she knew better than to ask. It was a dangerous gamble. Some guards took pity on them, and some...didn’t, to say the least. Her mother had been punished one too many times for her own mistakes, and, given her mother’s fragile state, she didn’t want to risk it again.
She continued to rub her mother’s arms in an attempt to stop the shaking. Her mother forced her arms away as she went into a coughing fit again. It had been happening more and more often over the past few weeks, each time lasting longer and sounding worse. She wrapped her arms around herself as she watched her mother struggle to catch her breath. When her mother’s hoarse gasps wrenched the air, she clapped her hands over her ears, blocking out the sound that made her feel helpless.
Closing her eyes, she plopped on the ground and rocked in place, humming loudly. Mommy’s fine. Mommy said she’s fine.
She didn’t know her mother finally recovered until she knelt in front of her, pulling her arms from her ears. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m all better now,” she murmured in her soft, lyrical tone.
Opening her eyes, she gazed up at her mother, finding her managing a weak smile. “You always say that,” she said, frowning.
Guilt instantly clawed at her as her mother’s small smile faltered for a moment. “I’m sorry, mommy,” she muttered, watching as tiny wrinkles appeared on her mother’s forehead before the woman grabbed hold of her and wrapped her up in her arms.
She sighed, snuggling closer into the cradle of her mother’s body, wanting to share her warmth. Her mother rested her cheek on the top of her head. For long moments, they sat in silence, but then, her mother’s voice filled the air as she started to sing her favorite lullaby. She closed her eyes, letting the song wash over her, taking her away. The tiny cracks in her mother’s voice, though, reminded her of her mother’s illness.
Eventually, as her mother continued to rock and sing, exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep with her ear pressed against her mother’s chest, listening to the irregular beats of her mother’s heart.
“Get up, girls,” one of the guards called from the other side of the cell, waking her sometime later. “It’s time,” he said, glancing at her mother with a face full of pity.
Nodding, her mother brushed her hair from her face. “Time to get up, baby.” Groaning, she climbed from the warm bubble of her mother’s embrace and stood up, offering a hand out for her mother. Smiling, her mother took her hand and she helped pull her up. “My sweet girl,” she said, kissing her cheek. “Thank you.”
The guard led them out of the cell and into the sunlight. Eyes widening at the scene before her, she clung a little tighter to her mother’s side, who threw her arm around her shoulders and gave a squeeze. A crowd comprised of mostly men stood in front of a large wooden stage shouting at each other. Of the few men among mostly women and young girls on stage, there were two guards and a man shouting back at the crowd.
Still clinging to her mother’s side, they followed the guard closer to the stage, her heart hammering harder and harder with each step. Her mother squeezed her a little tighter, and she heard her sniffle. She didn’t have to look up to know her mother was crying. She had heard her cry before, when she was supposed to be sleeping. But she didn’t blame her. It was a sad life, raising a child alone and having men tell you what to do all day long. Life would be much better without those vile, smelly creatures.
As the guard led them up the steps of the stage, a knot formed in her stomach making her feet uncooperative. She stumbled several times, her mother catching her so she didn’t fall on her face in front of the crowd. When the dozens of male faces turned in their direction, staring, snickering, and muttering amongst themselves, she completely froze. Her feet absolutely refused to take another step. She tried to step back, wanting to rush back down the steps and to the safety of the cell, but her mother held tight.
“No, baby. You have to stay here,” she whispered as the man on stage began yelling.
“Next up. Two females, a mother-daughter pair. Irish descent, so possibly some Celtic genes, very rare, indeed.”
Her mother continued to struggle to keep her on the stage when she wanted nothing to do with these people. Why couldn’t they go back to the cell until this was over? The men in the crowd watched them closely, their eyes narrowing as her mother began coughing, begging her to stop. When her mother finally released her to fall to her knees in another coughing and gasping fit, she debated making a run for it. The men’s voices grew louder as they talked amongst themselves. One of the men closest to the stage sneered in her mother’s direction as she wheezed, and then snapped his gaze to her when she took several steps toward the stairs.
“Baby, no,” her mother croaked through her coughs. Guilt racked her as she glanced back at her mother as she lay on the stage reaching for her. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just leave her mother lying there...all alone.
She rushed over, placing a gentle hand on her mother’s back as it shook. “I’m sorry, mommy,” she whispered. Her mother managed to glance at her before she began sobbing through her gasps, tears suddenly pouring from her beautiful eyes that matched the trees during her favorite time of year.
The men began yelling, and she moved her body in front of her mother, giving the nasty creatures in the crowd a look just as nasty. What mean things they are, she thought as she pet her mother’s back.
“I’ll take the girl,” a low, booming voice called out. Her eyes searched the crowd, quickly finding the man (more like giant) part
ing the mass of men like the Red Sea. They bumped into each other to make room for him, the incessant muttering continuing. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as he approached the stage in long strides that ate the distance in a matter of seconds. Watching her with dark eyes, his lips curved into a smile. She found herself leaning back against her mother’s body in an effort to move away from his approach.
“Sold!” the man on the stage shouted quickly.
The giant glanced away from her to look at the man on stage and her lungs began operating again. “I’ll pay half the asking price for just the girl.”
The man on stage frowned. “I’m sorry, but they are to be sold together.”
Crossing his massive arms over his even more massive chest, the giant huffed. “I’m not paying for a woman who is obviously sick and possibly dying. And I doubt anyone else will either. It’s the girl alone, or you can keep them.” There were shouts of agreement from the crowd.
The man on stage spoke to Jevon, their current owner, in a hushed conversation for a moment before returning to the stage. “Very well,” he said, nodding at the giant.
Those two words made her heart stop. Dead still. And when the man’s eyes turned back to her, his smile widening, she wished she could stay and die with her mother.
“No!” her mother screamed, somehow finding the strength to stand despite gasping for air. Yanking her behind her, her mother stood glaring up...way up...at the giant who was quickly bearing down on her. “You...can’t...have...her,” she managed, narrowing her eyes on him. “I know...what you...are.”
The smile on the giant’s face never faltered as his eyebrow quirked in amusement. “Oh, I’d love to see your sweet, sickly ass try to stop me,” he murmured and chuckled at her.
She remained there, staring at him, her eyebrows furrowed until finally she lowered her head, her shoulder slumping. Turning, her mother knelt down clutching her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, baby. I should have let you run.”
Her eyes widened as her gaze darted from her mother to the giant towering behind her. When her eyes landed on the giant’s smirking face, she started shaking her head. “No, mommy,” she pleaded, her head shaking faster. “No, please don’t let them take me.”
Tears streamed from both of them as her mother wrapped her up in her arms. “I love you, baby. I will always love you.”
Huffing, the giant stepped forward, his boots pounding against the hollow, wooden floor of the stage. “Time to go, girl,” he snapped, clutching her arm and yanking her from her mother’s arms in one, quick jerk. She screamed, turning enough to pummel her free fist against the arm that clutched her own. Kicking her feet, she refused to walk away from her mother. When he picked her up, she swiped her hand over his face, scratching his cheek open. He chuckled, and threw her over his shoulder, where she continued kicking and pounding on his back with every ounce of strength her tiny body possessed.
“I like this one already,” he said as she noticed a second pair of boots fall into step beside his enormous ones.
“Nadene will have that beaten out of her in a month,” the second man said, making her pause for a moment before resuming her struggle tenfold. Gods, who are these people?!
CHAPTER ONE
Approximately sixteen years later…
Gazing around the bare twelve by twelve room, Autumn sighed heavily. Why was she here? Couldn’t it just be over already? She’d suffered enough, hadn’t she? She glanced down at the bowls of paint that littered the hardwood floor. Jaelyn, the only person in this god-forsaken world she didn’t absolutely despise, snuck the bowls of paint in with her daily meal. Turning her head, a smile of minuscule proportions crossed her face as she admired her latest piece. It took up a solid three square feet of wall space that had once been pristine white. Once again, she had depicted the woman that haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember. Long, flowing locks of red, ivory skin, and piercing eyes of jade with ugly streaks of tears blotching her beautiful face.
Now, with her mind no longer engrossed in her painting, her body shivered and goosebumps broke out over her skin. Gathering the bear fur blanket around her, she curled into a ball on her side. When she heard the stampeding of feet and paws rush past outside, shouts and howls soon joining the chaos, she clamped her hands over her ears. Gods, it wasn’t even the full moon yet. She waited for them to pass, as they always did, as the cluster of men raced into the forest to hunt. But they didn’t. She clenched her teeth, her hands failing to block them out. Finally, after forever passed, she huffed and got to her feet, padding over to the tiny window draped in bear fur. And what she saw had her jaw dropping.
Dozens of men and wolves cluttered the spaces between the houses and buildings of Blackmoon, teeth bared and snapping, fists clenched and swinging. It was an all-out battle as she saw several men bleeding, and a few wolves trying to limp away. She watched entranced for long minutes, trying to puzzle out what had happened to cause such a fight to break out. Did it really matter? If anything, it may be just the distraction she needed.
Throwing the blanket off her, she leapt toward the door. This was it. Time to get out of this hellhole. She yanked on the doorknob, cursing when she found it locked. Nadene, her witch of a caretaker, had probably locked it after throwing her in at dusk. She added her other hand, pulling harder. Nothing. Slamming a fist, she let her head fall on the door…a little harder than she meant to. C’mon, door. Budge. She wouldn’t get another chance like this. She had never witnessed a battle like this happen within the village. Even he (she shuddered even thinking his name) would be too preoccupied to notice her escape. She had to do it…NOW!!!! So, cooperate, you stupid thing!
She ran across the room, taking a deep breath before sprinting toward the door, her whole body slamming into it. A giant thud echoed through the room, but the door remained completely intact. Again. Harder this time. She could feel bruises forming on her right shoulder. But she wouldn’t stop. This was her chance. And she’d beat her body bloody if it meant getting out of here.
***
Torin Delaney enjoyed a good sparring match as much as any other warrior, but these Blackmoon bastards fought dirty. Growling as yet another Blackmoon shifted, he gripped the hilt of his short sword. Typical Blackmoon, he thought. They always relied on their wolf forms it seemed. The first wolf barreled down on him, baring its ugly yellow teeth at him. He clipped it on the shoulder as he dodged out of the way. It yelped. It was a risky move bringing a silver sword into battle, given that he could quite literally be killed with his own sword. He allowed himself a grin of satisfaction as the wolf snarled at him for the injury. Shouldn’t have shifted so quickly, dumbass.
He nipped the mutt a few more times as they played a little cat and mouse. Only this mouse had a sword, and some mad skills to go with it. When a familiar war cry rang through the air, he glanced to his left, shaking his head and smiling. Alaric, you arrogant SOB. His best friend carried a sword almost identical to his own, and Torin knew the man could use it. As evidenced by the several scars he had from when the prick nicked him with it during “training.” Alaric slashed at one of the wolves in a smooth upward motion, grinning over at him.
“Couldn’t keep away I see,” he yelled to him. Despite Pop’s warning, he thought. His father, the Alpha, didn’t like Alaric joining battles for the simple fact that he was human, and believed that immediately gave Alaric a disadvantage. However, Torin had taught his best friend everything he knew. And what Pop didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
“Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” Alaric yelled back, winking as he took the wolf’s legs out from under him.
Chuckling, Torin returned to the snarling dog in front of him. If Pop sees you, the fun will be over…for both of us. The tip of his sword sank into the meat of the wolf’s shoulder, drawing a high-pitched shriek from the animal as its leg gave out.
Bang. Torin paused as he was about to gut the wolf whimpering on the ground. Bang. Looking through the small crowd of wolves
and his Whitemoon brothers, he couldn’t figure out who was causing the sound. Bang. He followed the sound to a small building near the edge of the village. Bang. What the? It sounded as if someone was being thrown against the door. Bang. Closing in on the building, he peered through the window, astonished at what he saw.
The source of the loud banging was a small woman…throwing herself against the door. He watched in awe as she stumbled to the opposite side of the room, and ran headlong into the door. There was already some nasty-looking bruises forming on the right side of her body. Her right cheek was scratched open, and she had blood trickling down her arm. She was going to beat herself to a bloody pulp soon. He pounded on the glass, catching her attention, her eyes widening as she froze.
“Stay there,” he said through the glass. She just stared at him, unmoving. Well, she’d stopped throwing herself at the door, at least. He stepped over to the door, and, not hearing any more banging, proceeded to slam his boot into it. Solid as it was, though, it took a few kicks to get it to come crashing down. He stepped over the scattered pieces of wood, finding her flattened against the opposite wall, inching her way toward the corner.
Her face was an orchestra of color. Bruises, blood, and…paint? An array of colors streaked across the smooth alabaster skin, every bit as beautiful as the painting on the wall behind her. Her wide-set eyes just as bright as the woman in the painting. A self-portrait perhaps? Wild tangles of red hair haloed her face with still more paint streaked through it. Huddled in the far corner of the room, she stared at him with eyes like glimmering emeralds, biting her bottom lip, which happened to be one of the few spots on her face that were not splotched with paint. No, instead, they were pale pink, plump, and … perfect. With his eyes locked on her face, he noticed a light dusting of freckles across her nose.
Kiss of Fire: A Dystopian Shifter Romance (The Whitemoon Warriors #2) (The Whitemoon Warriors Series) Page 1