Melt My Heart (A Warrior Wolves Holiday Novella) Chapter Two by Christine DePetrillo

Chapter Two

Flynn Callister burst into the main sitting room at Deer Creek Inn and set the womansicle he’d pulled from the front yard onto the couch. He pulled his jacket from her shoulders then unzipped her own coat. Tossing them to the floor, he grabbed the thick quilt on the back of the couch and draped it around the lass. Next he pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

“I’m calling 911,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if the woman was with it enough to understand him. Her cheeks were so red from the biting cold, her lips nearly blue, and her clothes were soaked. “Gran!”

Aideen Rhodes, owner of Deer Creek Inn and grandmother to Flynn’s friend and bandmate, Emma, came into the sitting room. As soon as she saw the woman on her couch, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear, what’s happened?”

“I found her outside. She must have fallen trying to get to the front door. She might be hur—” He stopped when the 911 operator answered. After explaining the situation, he hung up. “An ambulance is on the way, but do you have some dry clothes. She drenched and freezing.”

“Of course.” Gran scurried from the room and Flynn turned his attention back to the woman.

“Hey.” He kneeled beside the couch and used his index finger to move aside strands of wet, golden hair. “Can you hear me?”

The woman nodded, but it appeared to sap her energy to do so. Poor lass. How long had she’d been out there? Just how hurt was she? Who was she?

“I’m Flynn Callister and we’ll get you all warmed up, aye. Don’t worry.”

Good thing he’d come to the inn tonight. Every other member of their Celtic rock band, Hendrake, was in a relationship and Emma, Torrin, and Blaithin had taken their mates on romantic getaways as Christmas presents. They’d, of course, invited him to come along, but what was more pathetic than being the seventh wheel? So he’d elected to stay behind and help Emma’s grandmother run the inn for the week before Christmas. In exchange, Gran had promised to make him all the snickerdoodles he could eat.

Which was an unholy number.

When he’d heard the howling earlier, he’d opened the front door, concerned that wild animals were getting a bit too close to the inn. He’d been prepared to fire off a couple of warning shots with Gran’s rifle, but then he’d thought he’d heard a voice out there in the blizzard.

Thank heavens he’d checked it out. This lass could have died out there tonight.

Gran bustled back into the sitting room and shooed him out so she could help the woman change her clothes. When he was allowed back in, the lass was sitting up and looking… hot. She made the gray sweats Gran had given her look like something a supermodel would wear.

That golden hair, though still wet, fell around her shoulders in long waves. She was petite, all her features delicate and feminine. Rich green eyes searched the sitting room before settling on Flynn and making something magnetic inside him pull him farther into the room. Closer to the couch.

Closer to her.

“I… I’m Brooke Myers,” she said after clearing her throat. There was a slight southern twang to her words that enchanted Flynn. “Are you the one who pulled me out of the snow?”

Flynn nodded, too caught up in her to form words.

“Well, thank you. Thank you so much. I was about two seconds from becoming a permanent ice sculpture.” She coughed, a wince scrunching up her face.

“Are you hurt?” He navigated himself to the coffee table in front of the couch where Gran was already standing.

“Her back,” Gran said. “Wrenched it trying to get out of the snow bank. I’m so sorry, lass. Usually everything is cleared, but the snow was falling too quickly to stay ahead of it and I wasn’t expecting any new guests tonight.”

Brooke held up a hand. “I totally understand. I didn’t expect to be a guest. I’m supposed to be at a ski lodge an hour from here with my family.” Her gaze shot to Flynn. “I’m meeting my parents and siblings for Christmas.”

Not a boyfriend or husband? Good to know, and had she wanted him to have that information?

The doorbell rang and Gran went to answer it while Flynn lowered to sit on the edge of the coffee table. “Can I get you something to drink?” He was glad that question came out and not do you want to run away with me?

“Something hot would be wonderful,” Brooke said in a soft, scratchy voice. A rather sexy voice. “I’m so cold.”

“Aye. Coming right up.” Flynn met Gran and two EMTs in the foyer. “Aside from hurting her back and being out in the cold, she appears to be okay.”

“We’ll check her out,” one of the EMTs said.

“Help me get her something to drink, Gran?” Flynn angled his head toward the inn’s kitchen.

“I know just the thing.” Gran led the way and moved around the kitchen as if she could do so with her eyes closed. “What a way for a lass to start her holiday.”  

A dozen other ways Flynn could start Brooke’s holiday flashed through his mind as he leaned against the threshold and watched Gran. As he let a few of those scenarios play out in his mind, he grew heated beneath his flannel shirt and jeans. How could he let his mind wander into that territory? The woman had suffered a frightening ordeal being stuck outside and hurting her back during a blizzard. She didn’t need some guy trying to put the moves on her.

Does she? She had pointed out that the family she was meeting included her parents and siblings. Not a significant other. Why would she specify if she wasn’t interested?

Flynn was totally ready for some excitement. He’d grown so tired of being the only one not in a relationship. Emma had Kole, Blaithin had Vix, and Torrin had Kari. And while he could have hooked up with any number of lasses at Hendrake concerts, eager to score with the band’s drummer, that wasn’t what he was looking for in his life right now. At thirty-four years old, he wanted something like his friends had. Something real. Something more. Something with the potential for forever.

A loud snap in front of his face made him blink and focus on Gran standing in front of him. She held up a mug with steam curling from the hot cocoa it contained.

“Earth to Flynn.” She smiled. “Can you take this to our guest?”

“Aye.” He took the mug and carefully made his way toward the sitting room. With a quick peek around the doorway to make sure he wasn’t interrupting an examination, he entered and set the cocoa on the coffee table.

One of the EMTs shook a bottle of pills at him. “She’s pulled a muscle in her back. Some of these, coupled with rest, and she’ll be as good as new. No signs of frostbite, but she does need some warming up.”

“Which you’re already on top of with the cocoa,” the other EMT said.

But that’s not the only way to warm up a lass…

Flynn shook that thought from his head as he accepted the bottle of pills from the EMT.

“She shouldn’t drive or operate any heavy machinery while she’s on these,” the first EMT said.

“Darn.” Flynn shot her a quick smile. “I was going to have her snowblow out there.” He gestured out the window where the storm was still raging.

Brooke offered him a grin that made her entire face radiant. “Snowblowing is not on my resume. I’m from Texas.”

Picturing her dressed as a cowgirl made Flynn have to bite back a groan. What was wrong with him tonight? He’d pulled one gorgeous woman from the snow and his hormones were all high-fiving each other, ready to get into the game.

He thanked the EMTs and walked them out. When he returned to the sitting room, Brooke had her hands wrapped around the mug. He wiggled the pill bottle. “Want some of these?”

“Yes, please.” She held out her hand and he shook two pills into her palm. After taking them, she looked up at Flynn. “Please tell me you have a room here.”

He certainly did.

Come back tomorrow for the last part of Melt My Heart!

Want more of the Warrior Wolves Series? Check it out HERE!

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com 

More Wolves by Christine DePetrillo

Wolf Angel, the fourth book in my Warrior Wolves series, released on August 7^th. I had particular fun writing the story of Shawn McMannus and Jessica Fairheart because I delved a little deeper into the world of gods and goddesses. While the book has a contemporary feel—and takes place in the woods of Vermont as most of my books do—a thread of fantasy runs through it. My hope is to take you on a journey that feels as if it could actually happen.

You know… if werewolves were real. (I keep hoping!)

One thing I really love about writing this series is the number of people who have said to me, “I never read about werewolves, but I love these books!” So if you’re one of these people who think werewolves aren’t for you, maybe give my Warrior Wolves a try. I mean, they’re hot. They’re big. They don’t shed much, and they love their women enough to go to Hell and back for them. These are wolves you should meet, no?

If you want to start from the first book, Wolf Kiss, it’s only $0.99 in ebook everywhere.

Wolf Angel Blurb:

Warrior Shawn McMannus only knows the fighting life. Whether it’s on the battlefield in Ireland of the past or in the ring as part of an underground fight club in present-day New Hampshire, he delivers a pounding to his opponents. Until his brother persuades him to try another way in the werewolf-friendly woods of Vermont. The pull of the pack is strong even if becoming a werewolf hadn’t been Shawn’s choice. Leaving the only lass to ever have cared for him, however, was his choice.

Sculptor Jessica Fairheart can’t understand why Shawn left. She’d saved his life after a horrible accident, helped him recover from the loss of his leg, and loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone else. None of that had stopped him from walking out on her though. He probably would have ended up leaving anyway… if he had found out what she was. Better to live without love and keep her secrets.

When Shawn’s brother contacts Jessica, she can’t resist going to Vermont to see Shawn. Maybe she can’t deny her feelings. Maybe she just wants answers. Maybe she wants another chance, but does Shawn?

Only an angel can tame this wolf fighter… if he wants to be tamed at all.

Wolf Angel Chapter One excerpt:

Living in Maine for the past four years, Jessica Fairheart was still amazed at how many trees populated New England. Arizona, where she was born and raised—where she married a jackass and nearly ruined her life—was so different with the rust-colored peaks of the Big Horn, Gila, and Superstition Mountains and the prickly heights of the saguaro cacti of the Sonoran Desert.

Not that she missed Arizona. She didn’t. Not at all. Getting out of there had been the best move she’d ever made. Did she look over her shoulder every now and again? Sure. Was she living the life she wanted? Mostly. Had she moved on?

Have I?

That was a tricky one. Her business, Fairheart Designs, was booming. Her hands could hardly keep up with all the online orders for bowls, vases, and pitchers among other practical pieces of pottery people requested. The more whimsical side of the business was taking off too with more and more orders for conversation-piece sculptures. This week alone she’d made two mermaid statues, a dragon, and three unicorns. She loved her work. Turning lumps of clay into something beautiful made her feel as if she were channeling all her Navajo ancestors and pouring their spirits into each piece. Pottery connected her to her true essence.

Even if she had problems connecting to actual people around her.

That’s to be expected. She had to remind herself of that. Her experiences had turned her into the person she was—or what was left of that person anyway.

Sighing, Jessica shook her head as she sped along the winding, tree-lined highway in her SUV. “What am I doing?” Driving from Maine to Vermont to see a man who quite possibly didn’t want to see her was a stupid idea.

But she couldn’t stop herself from going. And how much did that piss her off?

From the moment she’d inexplicably felt Shawn McMannus get hit by that train she’d been traveling on, she couldn’t get the man out of her head. She’d tried. Oh, hell, she’d tried, but he’d gotten stuck there. Even worse, he’d gotten stuck in her damn heart—a place she’d closed down for business after her last involvement with a man. Men weren’t to be trusted. She’d learned that lesson for the first time when she was just a girl of sixteen.

Here she was though, traveling at speeds well above the posted limit to get to where Shawn was said to be. His brother, Kole, had contacted her and invited her to come to some town named Canville in Vermont. He’d said he and Shawn had recently reconnected and although Shawn wasn’t giving out much information, Kole had a feeling she was “important” to his brother.

Important?

Had Shawn used that word to describe her? Or was Kole trying to fill in the blanks? No one knew better than Jessica how closed off Shawn could be. In the time he’d stayed with her as he recovered from losing his leg in the train accident, he hadn’t said much.

He hadn’t needed to. The way he’d looked at her, the way he’d touched her, the way he’d made love to her…

Jessica shivered a little thinking about Shawn’s big, strong hands on her body. For a man of such few words, how had he managed to make her feel so… important? Yeah, that was the right word.

Or at least she’d thought it was. Until she’d awakened one morning, called out Shawn’s name after not finding him beside her in bed, and realized he was gone.

She’d never felt so empty, so lost, so angry at herself for falling in love with another man who wasn’t capable of respecting her. She deserved more than this, didn’t she? She wasn’t getting caught up in crazy romantic notions that couldn’t survive in the real world, was she?

No. Real love existed and she wanted it despite her awful luck with men. Despite her experiences as a teenager and as a young wife. Despite Shawn leaving without an explanation or a goodbye.

And why the hell did she want that real love to be with Shawn?

Jessica slapped her hands on the steering wheel and let out a frustrated grumble. Reaching over, she turned up the radio and sang along with Taylor Swift in her angriest voice, which made her laugh despite her scattered emotions at the moment. Why hadn’t she brought any death metal with her? Probably because she didn’t listen to death metal music.

But Shawn did.

Her lips tugged up at the corners. She remembered catching him singing in the shower to something with a ton of spit and vinegar in the lyrics. He hadn’t known all the words, but hearing him sing had been so damn hot. His voice was slightly gritty and totally sexy. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from stripping down and joining him in the shower.

He’d been startled by her sudden appearance and she’d had to grab him around the waist to stop him from falling over. Standing on one leg in the shower had to have been a challenge, but he’d quickly regained his balance with a hand on the safety bar she’d had installed in there.

Because accepting help wasn’t one of Shawn’s superpowers.

Jessica had figured that out pretty damn fast. You’d think a man who’d lost his leg when a train had literally plowed into him and ripped it off would take all the help that was offered. But not Shawn. He had a fighter’s spirit—one that said back off at every turn. One that had somehow allowed him to survive such a horrible accident.

She still couldn’t shake off the feeling that had coursed through her as he’d been hit while she’d been on that very train heading from Maine to New York.

She also hadn’t unraveled the mystery of how she had known they’d hit him. How could someone who had been sitting, earbuds deep in her ears and her mind singularly focused on the next vase design, have sensed that the train had smacked into a man she didn’t even know?

The whole thing creeped her out, but she was unusual. No way around that fact.

She’d taken responsibility for Shawn McMannus. When she’d finally convinced the railroad personnel to stop the train and at least look at the tracks, everyone had been absolutely horrified at the bleeding, unconscious man lying broken across the rails. She’d been the one to call 911. She’d been the one to ride in the ambulance with Shawn. She’d been the one to go through his wallet and give the hospital the information it needed to treat him. She’d been the one who was there when he’d awakened.

She’d been the one to get mesmerized by his gray-blue eyes.

Shawn had been disoriented when the effects of the anesthesia had worn off after the surgery to tidy up what remained of his left leg. The doctor had said the trauma of the accident and a concussion were to blame, but it had appeared to be more than that to Jessica. When he’d been released from the hospital and she’d taken him to her home, he’d been super uneasy sitting in her SUV. Once she’d gotten him inside her house, things like the microwave and the television had dumbfounded him. He’d looked around as if it were the first time he’d ever seen anything. She’d chalked it up to his ordeal as the doctor had suggested, but something about his reactions didn’t add up in her head.

And traveling to Vermont to see him now didn’t add up either. Seriously.

“Take ramp right,” the lovely male British voice of her GPS commanded.

“You got it, Nigel.” This may have been a stupid idea, but she was nearly to the address Kole had given her. More stupid to turn back at this point. “I may as well see where this all leads.” At the very least, she had to make sure Shawn was all right. Then maybe she could move on.

Hoping her open mindedness would see her through encountering Shawn again, she navigated the rest of the way and after twenty minutes of driving, she arrived at a cozy bed and breakfast. The sign out front said Deer Creek Inn.

This was the place all right. Kole had told her to continue past the main inn and follow the narrow dirt road into the woods. Sure enough, a charming white cottage revealed itself just as Kole had said it would.

She’d had a few conversations with Kole over the past two weeks and already liked him. Much more personable than Shawn was, Kole had made her feel as if he truly wanted her to come to Vermont.

At least one brother wants to see me.

She couldn’t say the same of Shawn, but she’d find out for sure in mere moments. Her palms were slick against the steering wheel and she loosened her grip. A fluttery feeling spread out in her chest and down to her stomach.

“Get it together, Jessica.” She shook her shoulders and stretched her neck back and forward, side to side. How could one man cause this physical reaction in her? And was she nervous or excited? 

Dammit. She couldn’t tell.

The only way to find out was to get her butt out of the SUV and walk up to the front door of that cute little cottage.

“You can do this.”

Grabbing her purse, she got out of the SUV and smoothed her hands over her long black hair that she’d straightened. In a rare talkative moment, Shawn had said he liked the feel of her hair between his fingers. She’d like to say she hadn’t styled her hair with him in mind this morning, but that would be a total lie. Pathetic how much she wanted him to take one look at her, scoop her up into his muscled arms, and ravage her mouth.

She missed his kiss.

Dammit.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked toward the cottage but stopped when the bright red front door suddenly ripped open and a man came barreling out—a man with a shaved head, black stubble, and crystal blue eyes. A man built very much like Shawn.

He skidded to a halt after vaulting down the three front steps. “Jessica?”

“Yes. Are you Kole?” Her fingers closed around the straps of her purse, choking the life out of them.

“Aye. I am.”

She shivered over hearing the same Irish accent that Shawn had. The one that had ratcheted up the sex appeal to dangerous levels.

A woman with black hair like Jessica’s only wavier appeared on the small front porch behind Kole. 

“Oh, you’re here.” She hopped down the stairs and stepped around Kole. “Hi, I’m Emma. It’s so nice to meet you, Jessica.” She extended her hand.

After quickly swiping her palm along her denim-covered thigh, Jessica shook Emma’s hand. “Hello. 

Nice to meet you too.” She couldn’t stop her gaze from going back to the cottage’s still open front door.

Emma chuckled. “Shawn’s not here.” She may as well have said, We don’t have any oxygen here.

Jessica’s shoulders slumped.

“I wish he were.” Kole’s lips pursed, his jaw clenched.

“Where is he?” No sense in trying to hide her desperation. That cat was out of the bag and running wild.

“Jail.” Emma folded her arms across her chest.

Jail? Shawn had always seemed as if a bit of danger simmered under his skin, but what could he have done to land in jail?

“He’s been fighting,” Kole said, “as a… career.” He shook his head. “I tried to talk him out of it.”

“We all did,” Emma added. She slipped her arms around Kole’s waist. “But you McMannus men have thick skulls.”

Kole’s lips turned up on the left side—a smile Jessica had seen on Shawn as well. One that made her want to see the man all the more. She wanted to slap some sense into herself but knew it wouldn’t help.

“It’s a good thing we have thick skulls, Beauty. We wouldn’t have made it this far without them.” A look passed between them that said there was much more to that statement than Jessica knew. 

“Who’s he fighting?” she asked. “I don’t understand.” She could definitely picture Shawn beating the crap out of someone though. All those muscles would love being used in that way. She should probably be disgusted that Shawn was fighting—so caveman—but she was aroused instead. The mental movie playing in her head right now was downright erotic.

“He’s fighting other men who have also decided this was their only occupation choice.” Kole ran a hand over his shaved head and puffed out a breath. “There was a police raid at the steelyard where they fight though. I’ve got to go bail him out so I can kick his ass.” He made a move to walk around Jessica, but Emma pulled him back.

“I’ve got an idea,” Emma said, a sly smile on her lips. “Why don’t we let Jessica get him?”

“Me?” Jessica’s voice was a squeak.

Kole slowly grinned then nodded. “Aye. You.” He turned to Emma and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “You are brilliant, Beauty.”

“Don’t you forget it.” Emma kissed him back then looked at Jessica, who was still reeling from the suggestion of her going to get Shawn. She’d been semi-prepared to see him at this cottage, but even that had made her nervous as hell.

Although, if the first time she saw him again was when he was contained in a jail cell, he couldn’t suddenly disappear on her, could he?

“Tell me how to get to the police station.”

Join the pack today! Visit my website for more information about the Warrior Wolves series. 

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

One More Day! by Christine DePetrillo

Tomorrow is the last day of school! Only one more day until I shed my teacher skin and become a full-time writer. I will spend long summer days in these two places, making my characters fall in love.

I will have this trusted associate keeping away potential distractions.

I will have this associate judging my work. Sternly. 

I will be refreshed with these frozen margaritas as often as possible.

I will walk here when writer's block rears its ugly head.

And hopefully, by the end of the summer, I'll be adding one more Warrior Wolves book, Wolf Angel, to this picture.

I can't wait! One more day! I'll do my best not to "whohoo" my way around my classroom in Daffy Duck style, but I can't make any promises. 

Toodles,
Chris
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

#ReleaseDay for Wolf Vow by Christine DePetrillo

Sound the trumpets! Release the balloons! Light the fireworks!

It. Is. Release. Day.

Go ahead. Applaud and dance around. I'll wait.

Ah, forget waiting. I'm applauding and dancing with you! 

I'm always amazed that the elated feelings of a release day never lessen even after you've released a bunch of books. The anticipation. The satisfaction. The completion. It's all so wonderful! Every single time!

Today I release WOLF VOW, Book Three in my Warrior Wolves Series. 

Blurb:

Warrior Kole McMannus has been traveling across the country in a time that is not his own, searching for his brother. Since the day a Celtic goddess banished him from his home in Ireland, he’s battled wolves, wandered from state to state, and nearly lost all hope of being reunited with his kin. When he lands in Vermont and finds two of his cousins living the good life, however, he picks up new energy to continue his quest. Getting back to his old life with his brother is within his reach… if he still wants to grab it.

Singer and fiddler Emma Rhodes has a dream to launch her Celtic rock band, Hendrake, to international fame. She and her three bandmates have been giving their all to this cause, including a trip to Deer Creek Inn in the quiet woods of Vermont to write new material. It will only take one song to make their fantasies a reality. Without distractions maybe they can finally find the tune to take them to the top.

Or maybe Emma will find a new distraction.

When Kole and Emma meet over breakfast at the inn, he can’t get her scent out of his nose and she can’t forget the dazzling blue of his eyes. A run in the dark woods could change everything.

Making wolf vows is easy. Keeping them is harder.

Chapter One Excerpt:

The sandy Irish shore was gone beneath his paws. Instead, frigid snow stretched out in all directions around him. Kole McMannus shook out his wet brown fur and squinted his crystal blue eyes against the blinding white. Dark shadows of trees lined the horizon to his left, and icy peaks of mountains cut into pristine blue sky to his right.

Where am I?

He’d been in Ireland, kneeling with his fellow soldiers—his brothers—before the Celtic goddess, Flidae, protector of all wild things. She was pissed at their leader, Reardon McAlator, who had turned some members of his mercenary army into werewolves so they could slay the Spanish king’s bloodthirsty enemy. Flidae didn’t take kindly to her creatures being used as killers and had banished the turned men, Kole included.

And Shawn. His brother.

Kole immediately sniffed the cold air. He hadn’t been a werewolf long enough to understand how everything worked. He just knew he was hungry all the time and his anger wasn’t as easily controlled as it used to be. Unfortunately, anger was the only emotion coursing through him right now. Directed mostly at Reardon.

He sniffed again, not sure what Shawn smelled like. When his brother was a normal human, he mostly smelled of ale and sweat, like the rest of the army. Kole didn’t smell either of those in this arctic land, but Shawn was probably still in wolf form.

Unless…

No. He refused to believe he and his brother had been separated. Surely Flidae wasn’t that cruel. Was she?

Kole ran toward the tree line, sucking in air that nearly froze his nose. Nothing smelled remotely recognizable. Nothing stirred around him except the snow his paws kicked up as he ran. He skidded to a halt and tuned his ears to his surroundings instead. Perhaps that sense would lead him to his brother.

Standing still, the tree line a few gallops away, Kole listened until his ears stung with the silence. He let out a growl and shifted to human, but the freezing temperatures were too much for his naked flesh to endure.

There was also the headache. The one that pulsed inside his skull when he was in human form. It had started when he’d first been turned into a werewolf, but Reardon had said the change could cause such symptoms. Kole hoped the headaches would subside as time wore on—as he got accustomed to being a werewolf.

Not likely to happen.

He didn’t want to get accustomed to being a werewolf. He actually didn’t care if he was a normal man anymore. Being in wolf form, however… well, that was oddly comfortable. He maybe preferred being a wolf. Being a werewolf though? No. He didn’t want to live a life like that.

After shouting Shawn’s name a few times and getting no response, Kole shifted back to wolf form and continued toward the trees. The sun was slipping to its resting place and those trees were more inviting than the barren white blanket Flidae had tossed him on.

Alone apparently.

She was a tricky wench. Telling the men they had to do something worthy in order to get back to Ireland. How was he supposed to do that when he was the only one here? And where had she sent his brother? Shawn was a capable soldier. He could take care of himself, as could any of the men, but Shawn was the only immediate family Kole had left.

Their mother had died in childbirth along with the sister who wasn’t meant to be. Their father—a seafaring man—had perished a few years later in a shipwreck. When Reardon, their cousin, asked them to join his army, neither brother had to think too hard about their answers.

They hadn’t regretted their decisions either. Reardon had led them to glory in every sense of the word. Hired as mercenaries by rich kings, the army traveled, shed blood, claimed victory, basked in fame, and accepted unimaginable wealth. Kole and Shawn had been happy to be counted among their cousin’s forces.

Until Reardon had shared his curse with them. Betrayal was a difficult concept to swallow, especially from someone they’d all put their complete trust in.

Kole wasn’t blind though. The Spanish king’s enemies would have broken Reardon’s winning streak. Legends would have fallen on the battlefield if Reardon hadn’t taken some action. Kole wasn’t sure being turned into werewolves was the right action, but it hadn’t been his decision to make.

Just my consequence to suffer.

He was more upset by the banishment from Ireland and the separation from Shawn than the werewolf part. He could manage being a wolf. Being without his brother was the worst.

Leaping into the woods, Kole made a vow to find Shawn, no matter what it took. He’d figure out this place, find civilization, ask questions, fight if he had to. Shawn would no doubt be doing the same. 

They’d find each other.

They would.

Still hoping that perhaps Shawn was here somewhere, Kole shifted back to human again.

“Shawn!” The snow crunched under his bare feet, his toes feeling numb. “Shawn, are you here?” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, trying to hold on to whatever warmth he might still have inside him.

He wandered deeper into the forest where the wind wasn’t as biting, the trees offering a little protection. What he wouldn’t do for some garments. Being a soldier meant he’d worn armor most of the time, and though the thought of cold iron sent a shiver through him, he’d prefer his fighting gear over nothing right now.

“Shawn, please be here, brother.”

After a few circles around the area that didn’t turn up anything besides more ice-laden trees, Kole cradled his head in his hands, the headache throbbing behind his eyes again. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let out a growl and prepared to shift back to wolf form.

A crack sounded behind him and he whirled around. “Shawn?” He took a few steps in that direction, wanting to shift, but also wanting to be able to talk out loud to his brother. “Is that you?”

Movement happened all around him at once as six wolves emerged from the frosty shadows. Brown fur, black, gray, white blurred as they formed a semi-circle in front of him. Their keen eyes zeroed in on him as Kole’s heartbeat roared in his painful head. He’d had plenty of chances to die on the battlefield. Brutally. Bloodily. Not once did he think he’d be torn apart by wolves in an unknown arctic landscape with absolutely no one to mourn his death.

He went with his first instinct. Run.

Swiveling on his numb heel, he scrambled over frozen brush, cold air burning in his lungs as he ran. Behind him, the wolves’ paws thundered on the ground, sending vibrating shockwaves under his own feet. Growls and snarls sounded as they pursued him. Hot breath flooded his bare backside, and as welcome as that warmth was, he didn’t stop running. If he stopped, he was dead. If he was dead, he couldn’t find Shawn. If he didn’t find Shawn, he’d never forgive himself for suggesting they join Reardon’s army. His brother could have been spared Reardon’s foolish decision to turn them and Flidae’s harsh banishment to punish them.

Shawn followed Kole. Always. Five years younger, he regarded Kole’s thirty-six years of existence as something to be listened to and not questioned. His brother thought him wise. His brother thought wrong. A wise man didn’t find himself running naked from hungry wolves in the snow.  

Shift. Flidae’s voice echoed in his head, the word amplifying the ache there. Shaking his head, he kept running, afraid the time it would take him to shift would allow those wolves to sink their teeth into him. He also didn’t want the goddess’s help. She was the one who had gotten him into this predicament in the first place.

Not me. Reardon McAlator.

Aye, right. His cousin. Some of the blame was his, but Kole made his own choices too. Choices that affected Shawn. And not for the better.

A sharp pain exploded in his left heel and he let out a shriek, the likes of which he never would have believed himself capable of. Glancing down quickly, he noted the bloody footprints trailing over the snowy ground as he ran. One of the wolves had bitten him. The scent of blood intensifying their chase. 

Maybe Flidae was right. If he shifted, he might outrun them. He could at least heal that bite faster. 

Perhaps he could show these wolves he was one of them.

Will they accept me?

Only one way to find out, Flidae said.

Not helpful. Why would she be? This was all a game to her.

No game, wolf soldier. Just survival.

Which he wasn’t going to do if he didn’t get away from these wolves.

He burst out of the trees and dug his toes into the snow when a cliff appeared in front of him. An icy cliff. One he continued to slide toward. He had no idea what magnitude of drop waited for him, but if the white-capped peaks at eye-level on the other side of the chasm were any indication, the ride would be a long way down. The edge laughed at him, knowing full well it was about to swallow him whole.

If it didn’t, those wolves surely would.

Kole jammed his heels into the ice-covered snow, his bitten heel screaming in protest as more flesh tore. He glided toward the precipice as the wolves narrowed the gap between them. Their teeth were bared, showing their unhappiness at his intrusion in their territory. Saliva dripped from their mouths only to freeze in the fur around their snapping jaws.

Shift.

He let out a growl as he dropped to all fours and clawed the snow with his hands to stop his glide toward the edge, but his momentum would not be stopped.

With a roar, the wolves leaped at him.

He had a strange moment to observe them in mid-air, all their muscles tensed and ready to rip him to shreds. That moment was enough time for his wolf to explode free.

Kole was a much larger wolf than they were and when they landed, each one of them skittered back, whines cutting through the silence. He bared his own teeth, his hackles raising, making him larger than he already was. His back leg was slick with blood still, but he pushed that aside. His headache was gone, allowing him to focus and think and plan.

He let loose a roar that had the other wolves lowering their tails and back-stepping. His first concern was getting away from the cliff edge so he rushed forward, growling, barking, snapping his jaws until that precipice was no longer a danger.

Now to deal with threat number two.

Kole lunged at the closest wolf, but before he could do any damage, all six of the wolves bowed their heads to him. A few whines still sounded, but their utter submission surprised him.

You lead them now, Flidae said.

Lead? He’d never been a leader. He took charge of Shawn, but that was about it. Kole had always followed. Reardon mostly. And look where that got me.

Lead. Aye. He could be Alpha of this pack. He could stay in wolf form for a while. Just until he figured out how to find Shawn. These wolves could show him the lay of the land, keep him fed, fight any other threats this place held.

He could… enjoy being a wolf. No trying to be both man and wolf. No lamenting what he’d become. 

No headaches.

Letting out a puff of air as acceptance of their submission, Kole nudged each wolf with his head until all six of them were standing before him.

Food, he thought and, instantly, the wolves took off. The last wolf glanced back at him as if to say, 

This way, Alpha.

Maybe they could lead him to Shawn too.

He ran after them, but quickly took the lead when the wolves found a moose. His stomach growled. 

Apparently banishment worked up an appetite.

The wolves fanned out around the moose, using brush as cover, then as a unified front—as an army—they lunged, Kole at the neck of the animal. Bringing down the antlered beast was easy with a pack. 

Within moments, they were sharing their first meal together. Bonding.

Kole knew he shouldn’t like tearing into the moose’s flesh so much. Blood dribbling down his fur shouldn’t have pleased him. Raw meat shouldn’t have tasted so heavenly.

But gods be damned, it did.

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Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com