by Mary Abshire
Her thoughts were running wild and questions popped into her head. Marcel’s ancestors were part of the group who’d left Europe. Did he know? His name sounded French, so it made sense his bloodline originated in France. How many other French clans were still alive today?
Straightening, she looked at the paper with the clan Winsloux listed. Five had survived whatever battles were going on. One of them was named Francis. Lynn’s grandfather had been named Franklin and her grandmother was Eleanor. Although she didn’t see their names, she wondered if Franklin could’ve been related to Francis. The timing didn’t add up, though. Francis would’ve had to been a dragon. If he had been, then her grandpa kept a mega secret from her and her parents.
She tapped her finger on the table. What if property records showed the land had been owned by Francis Winsloux and then later owned by her grandparents? She didn’t believe in coincidences, so if the answer to her question was yes, then the dragon bloodline ran through her veins and she was a carrier.
The idea seemed crazy. If the Winsloux clan migrated in the 1500s and settled in Canada, she doubted the reserve would have records dating back that far. Even if the records started in the nineteenth century, the age of the surviving Winsloux clan would’ve been three hundred years old at bare minimum in the 1800s. She suspected much older since they would’ve needed to be strong enough to survive the journey from Europe. The more she thought about it, the more she believed Francis couldn’t be her great-grandfather.
Tapping sounds from within the house stole her attention. Staring at the open doorway, she listened for the noise. When she didn’t hear it again, but heard a bark instead, she shot up from her chair. Thinking Shepherd could be out in the rain, she hurried out of the library.
She strode into the main room and halted immediately when she spotted several animals strolling outside the wall of windows. She counted four. All of them had dark fur and all stood taller than any normal dog. One of them saw her and started growling. When it yapped, she flinched. Instinct told her they weren’t friendly. When the others started snarling and barking, she feared they were the feral werewolves Marcel had told her about.
Her heart began to race. Marcel had said they had her scent from her clothes, but he’d doubted they could track her because of the rain. Right or wrong, there were werewolves outside his house and they didn’t look friendly.
Slowly, she backed up to the hall. One of them jumped up and clawed at the glass. Its nails scraped on the window while it barked. If they broke through the glass, she wouldn’t have any chance of surviving.
Panic kicked in and she darted into the library. As quick as she could, she shut the two doors and then bolted the locks at the top. The roars of the werewolves grew louder, or so it seemed. Thuds from the main room intensified her fear. She prayed they weren’t trying to break the windows.
Breathing heavily, she ran to the laptop on the desk. She tapped the keyboard for the screen to appear. Each second ticking by while she waited seemed like an eternity. The minute the Facebook page appeared, she opened the private message window.
A loud thud from within the house stilled her. She stared at the doors. Strangely, the yaps of the beasts had stopped. Fearing something was wrong, she quickly typed a message for Marcel, letting him know werewolves had found her. Before she hit the return button, she heard clacking on the hardwood floor outside the door. The second she heard a snarl, she pressed the button to send the message.
A quick scan of the room showed she didn’t have anywhere to hide. She could try to escape through the windows, but they’d still catch up to her. They were faster than her. With no time to run and nowhere to hide, she ducked under the desk and then pulled the chair close to her.
The sound of a loud bark made her jump, but nails digging over the door seemed to frighten her more. Knees pulled close to her chest and holding her hands over her ears, she hoped and prayed Marcel wouldn’t find her torn into little pieces in his beautiful family home.
Chapter Fourteen
The rain stung his eyes as he flew in the dark sky. Arms together and legs stretched, he flapped his wings as fast as he could. The minute he’d seen Lynn’s message, he’d stopped the Jeep and told Demetri they had to go back immediately. He’d left Demetri in the car and had changed without stripping his clothes off. They’d ripped to shreds within seconds. Time was of the essence and the only thing that mattered to him was saving Lynn.
Soaring high, he tried to figure out how the werewolves could’ve found her. It would’ve been impossible for them to track her by scent since he’d lifted her away from them. Her scent couldn’t be found in the woods. How did they know to look for her at his house? He racked his brain, trying to solve the mystery. Then he realized only two dragons lived on the reserve. The other resided on the eastern side, many hours away. Marcel’s house was the closest. Since the wolves had seen him lift her in the air, they must have thought to check his property for her. If they were diabolical enough to lay a barbed chain on the road to force a car off, they were smart enough to think she might be at his house.
Anger burned deep within him as he descended toward his property. If any of them hurt her, he’d make sure they would all suffer and die before sunrise.
A glow from the windows on the main floor cast a soft light outside his house. Four animals circled near the back. Seeing him, they barked and growled. Flapping his wings, he slowly descended. Of course, they kept a distance from him.
As he hovered several feet above the ground, he spotted movement from the side of the home. A naked man with long hair clinging to his face and neck yanked Lynn by her forearm. She fought going with him, yelling and digging her bare feet into the grass. He stopped suddenly and faced Marcel.
Marcel’s fury grew as he stared at the man gripping Lynn’s arm. The minute Marcel’s feet touched the ground he let out a loud shriek. The four wolves yapped and snarled at Marcel while they kept a close proximity to the naked man. Clearly, he was their leader.
Without waiting for the leader’s next move, Marcel stepped closer to the werewolves. One ran straight for Marcel. When it was close enough, he slapped his tail on the ground. It thudded and sunk into the muddy earth a few feet from the wolf. The animal skidded as it tried to avoid crashing into Marcel’s tail. Two more wolves darted toward him as the other backed away, barking. Marcel lowered his arms and neck, swung his tail up, and then screamed at them again. They quickly halted.
Marcel stared at the leader holding Lynn captive. He needed to find a way to free Lynn before the leader hurt her. The small wolves didn’t scare him. The worst harm they could do was scratch him. Ignoring them, he focused on the leader and Lynn. Rain drenched his white shirt covering her body, and her long hair. She was trying to pry the leader’s hand from her arm and saying something to him. Marcel could hear her voice, but the yaps of the wolves distorted her words.
The leader called to the wolves. They stopped snarling at Marcel and ran toward their leader. As they approached, the leader started walking and yanked Lynn’s arm.
Marcel fought the urge to charge at him. Instead, Marcel rose on his legs and let loose another loud screech. The windows of his house shook. Fire within him yearned for release. He wanted to direct it at the leader, but he had Lynn in his grasp. The more she cried and struggled, the more Marcel wanted to set his fiery rage free.
The werewolves stayed close to their leader. One followed him and yelped at Lynn. She stepped to the side, trying to avoid it, but the leader yanked her closer to him.
Concern for Lynn weighed heavily in Marcel’s mind. He had no idea what they planned to do, but he suspected their intent involved hurting her. He had to get rid of them. He couldn’t let the leader take her into the woods. If they made it to the woods, Marcel would have to change. He would be weaker and more vulnerable in his human form.
Marcel rushed to the other side of the home as the leader dragged Lynn past the mid point. The wolves growled and yapped. When Marcel reached
the edge of the house, he rose and swung his tail in the direction of the leader. The naked man stopped and shoved Lynn toward the windows. She smacked her backside against the glass before she fell to the ground.
Marcel sucked in a long breath. The inferno burning inside him sought release, but he kept it under control. He doubted he could restrain it for much longer. He needed to get the wolves away from her. Take them out, then Marcel could change to fight the leader.
One of the wolves raced toward Marcel. He took a few steps to the side, away from the house and Lynn. Two more werewolves ran after the first one. Facing all three, he kept backing up at an angle. It might have looked like they were getting the upper hand and winning, but in reality Marcel was drawing them away from the leader and Lynn. When he felt confident he could get rid of them with one breath of fire, he braced his claws on the ground. He waited until they were within ten feet and then dropped his jaw.
Flames shot out and consumed the three werewolves. Their wails of misery sounded like music to his ears. Marcel rose onto his legs and brought his mouth up as the fire continued burning. After he’d released enough fire, he closed his mouth and dropped.
Three burning mounds lay on the scorched earth. Flames on the ground turned to steam from the rain. Marcel turned his attention toward Lynn. The leader hauled her to her feet. She swung her arms and screamed at him. The leader’s hand slipped from her and she took off running. The last werewolf raced after her as Marcel dashed toward her. She only made it a few steps before the wolf bit one of her legs, near her ankle. She shrieked and fell hard on the ground.
The leader yelled and the werewolf stopped inches from Lynn. It snarled at her while she lay, clutching her leg. When Marcel was close enough, he shot his tail at the wolf. He smacked the animal hard enough to send it flying over her and several feet away. As the werewolf struggled to rise, Marcel ran toward it. In a matter of seconds, he captured the wolf with his tail and lifted it in the air. The helpless wolf cried as Marcel tossed it into his open jaws. Warm blood flowed over his tongue after he brought his sharp teeth down on the wolf.
While Marcel finished eating his snack, he turned to Lynn. She was still laying on the ground, holding the lower part of her leg. Instead of finding the leader near her, Marcel found another werewolf only a few feet from her. When it leaped toward her, fear shot through Marcel. He wasn’t close enough to protect her and the leader was likely thirsty for retaliation.
In a blink of an eye, something whizzed by and shoved the werewolf before it landed on her. The wolf flew several feet away. The blur of movement came to a halt. Demetri stood between Lynn and the confused werewolf shaking its head.
Marcel charged for the leader. The wolf took off in the opposite direction, heading for the woods. Retribution burned within Marcel. He refused to let the leader escape. Flapping his wings, Marcel lifted off the ground and caught up with the wolf within seconds. He used his back claws to capture the animal and his front ones to rip the head off. Before landing, Marcel dropped the dead carcass.
The scent of the wolf’s blood drifted into his nose. He wanted the leader to suffer, but Lynn had been hurt. She mattered more to him than anything. At least he’d killed all the feral werewolves. She would be safe now.
On all fours, Marcel headed back toward his house. Demetri stood next to Lynn, fists clenched as he stared down at her. She sat upright, holding a leg close to her chest. As Marcel approached, he slowed and started to change to his human form. He stood and his wings retracted. Heat bathed his body as much as the rain while he transformed. Steam floated from his skin. As the change ended, he sprinted the remaining distance.
Marcel dropped to his knees beside her. Shaking, Lynn cupped her hands around her injury. Blood coated her fingers. The thick coppery scent filled his nose. He looked up at Demetri and noticed the tips of his fangs showing from his upper lip. Water dripped from his nose and chin. If Marcel could smell her blood, Demetri surely could as well.
“You don’t have to stay. I’ve got this,” Marcel said to him.
Demetri took one step back and then another. In the next breath, the vampire disappeared in a blur.
Marcel gently placed his hand on Lynn’s shoulder. “I’m going to carry you inside.”
Shivering, she slowly lifted her gaze. Raindrops ran down her face and into her glassy, dilated eyes. “Is he dead?” Her voice sounded scratchy.
Marcel’s heart cried for her. He sensed her pain—physical and mental. She’d admitted to considering having her memories wiped before and had decided against it. Now, he wondered if she might reconsider.
With a nod, he said, “All the werewolves are dead. You’re safe now. I promise. No one will hurt you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “I think I’m going to pass out now.”
Fear consumed him. He thrust one arm under her legs and noticed they felt cool. Holding her close to his body, he rose and then strode toward the house. He’d call the local shape shifter doctor to get her checked out. Surely she hadn’t lost that much blood. But what if she had? What if the wolf had torn an artery? What if she was bleeding out? What if her mind couldn’t handle the stress of everything that had happened to her on the reserve? What if she had a mental breakdown?
He hurried around the house. Whatever she needed, Marcel would ensure she received it. He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.
Chapter Fifteen
A sharp sting in her arm woke Lynn. As if she’d been in a deep sleep, she struggled to clear the fog from her mind. She opened her eyes and saw two blurry figures nearby.
“You can take it out at any time. This is just a precaution,” a man said. His voice sounded unfamiliar.
She lifted her arm and felt a smaller twinge. Blinking, she tried to clear her vision. She rubbed her eyes to help. In her arm, she noticed a small tube connected to the vein in the center. White medical tape held the clear tube to her forearm.
“What’s going on?” she asked. Her voice sounded a bit hoarse.
A strange older man with white hair, and wearing in dark clothes, walked past her, heading toward the end of the bed. Marcel stepped around him as he approached. He wore a plain black t-shirt and jeans. His thick hair looked a complete mess, but in a sexy kind of way. She looked around and noticed she was in his bedroom, laying on the bed. Light from the lamp on the nightstand lit the room. She lifted to sit up.
Marcel placed his hands on her shoulders and nudged her back. “Relax. Just lay down and rest.”
Her head began to throb as she lowered to the pillow. A similar pain in her lower leg surfaced. She glanced down and saw her bare foot and most of her leg propped up on pillows. Bandages covered the area above her ankle. Blankets hid the rest of her body.
Swallowing, she tried to ignore the pounding in her head. “What’s going on?”
Marcel took hold of her hand. “You passed out.”
The older man took a seat in the recliner at the other end of the room. His black pants matched the color of the bag near his feet. His short-sleeved dark-blue shirt was tucked in. Silver rimmed glasses sat on his face.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“A doctor,” Marcel said. “I called Shepherd after I brought you inside. Your leg didn’t look too bad, but I wanted to make sure an artery hadn’t been torn.”
She closed her eyes as the memories returned. The werewolves had been outside. She’d sent Marcel a message before someone had broken into the library. It had been a naked man with long stringy dark hair and black eyes. He’d pulled her out from under the desk. His teeth had been discolored and his breath stunk something horrific. She’d been so scared, but she had fought him as much as she could.
She lifted her eyelids. “I remember it all now. One of the werewolves broke into your house, but in his human form. He was so disgusting and had really bad breath.” She curled her lip in disgust.
Marcel narrowed his gaze at her. “He spoke to you?”
&nb
sp; “A little. I was trying to stall him. At first, I hit him, but I kept hurting my hands. He was incredibly strong.”
“Werewolves are much strong than humans, even in human form,” Marcel said.
“Stronger than regular shifters, too,” the old man said.
“I kneed his balls and he let go of me, but I couldn’t get past him in the library. I tried to bargain with him—“
“Bargain?” Marcel asked, interrupting her.
“After he told me he put the trap on the road to catch people to feed to his pack, I started to get really scared. I didn’t want him to take me to be torn into pieces, so I made things up to stall him. I asked him if he had a wife or girlfriend. He told me he had a few but welcomed more.”
Marcel gripped her hand tighter. “Please tell me you didn’t offer to be one.”
“I was trying to stall him anyway I could, but he figured out what I was doing and dragged me outside. He said his pack needed food and I had plenty of meat on my bones to feed them.”
Marcel shook his head. “What you did was very dangerous.”
She knew it had been risky, but she’d believed Marcel would save her before the man could take her anywhere or do anything to her.
“I was so glad to see you. I knew you would take care of them.” She’d never been so happy to see a dragon. Marcel was huge. The wolves didn’t have a chance once he’d drawn them away from the house. She almost cheered when he’d spit fire at them.
“They’re all dead now. You’re safe,” Marcel said.
Glancing at her bandaged leg, she recalled trying to get away. “One of them bit me.”
“You lost a lot of blood and needed stitches, but you’re going to be fine. The doctor said you should stay off your leg for a little while,” Marcel said.