“Why you naughty minx!” He chuckled and wanted to crush her in his arms but restrained himself, as he was fully aware that her mother’s eyebrow was already up.
“Go on then…and remember I would like you back, my darlings, before dark…I don’t know what it is, but…something has had me on edge. I suppose it is just that I would like you home when the squire returns.”
*
She went to the large panoramic window they had installed just the year before and watched them mount their horses. She was being foolish, of course, but she couldn’t shake the notion that something felt off. It was as though something watched them from afar; the atmosphere around her daughter didn’t feel right. She felt a threat in the air, and although she swept it away, telling herself she was foolish, her better sense knew better. She had reason to trust her instincts…
However, she had nothing concrete to go on. She shook her head; she was just being fanciful. Maxie was with his lordship. A voice in her head, however, whispered that, even so, Maxie was in danger. A dark cloud hovered over her lovely child, and it was sparked by venom. Such a thought shocked her, and she hastily brushed it aside. It was all nonsense. Her mind was just playing tricks on her heart. That was all.
What else could it possibly be? Something cackled in her brain, and that awful whisper lingered in the air, telling her to take her Maxie and run…
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ShadowLife—Hybrid
Prelude
Present day
Grampian Mountains, Scottish Highlands
HE FEELS THE weight of his tongue hanging hot and wet between his sharp canines, teeth that can crush through a man’s bones, as he races with precision through the trees. The wolf in him takes the scent from the earth and then lifts his head to the breeze to confirm the distance—a wolf can detect its prey in this manner almost two miles away.
The cold wind whips at his thick and beautiful black fur; he loves the sensation it tracks through his body. The last of the winter snow is beginning to melt beneath his huge paws, and he revels in the freedom of the run.
He is at home in these woods. The scent of the sweet-smelling tall pines mingled with the rays of the new morning’s sun has a soothing effect on his frazzled nerves—as does the hunt. He has abstained long enough.
The early scent of spring fills his nostrils as he reaches the precipice where he can look over his valley. There he shifts into human and lands naked on two feet.
He stands a huge, muscular man, with his black, shiny hair blowing freely in the morning breeze. The intricate tattoos on his chest and arms catch the sun’s rays as his muscles flex and he raises his head to catch the scent of the deer off the wind, the old stag he has been tracking. His cock is at full attention from the excitement of the hunt.
These woods have belonged to his family for centuries—MacAdams’ Foothills they are called. He and his father, nearly lost to him, are the last of his clan. They are neither man, wolf, or vampire, but all three.
*
He was alone and apart from all but at peace in his solitary existence. He was alone by his own will, alone because society and humans no longer appealed, alone after the murder of his dear mother.
He hadn’t even bothered going into the village for more than a few errands: mail, supplies … now and then a piece of ass. And today that particular craving made him feel heady. He needed a woman, and the need was pushing him in that direction, if only for a night, perhaps this night? He thought of Anna—a pliable and alluring playmate, ever ready and willing and nearly (though not quite) able to satisfy his unrelenting lust.
He was a hybrid, able to change at will because he had been born that way centuries ago. Going wolf always cleared his head and heart, but feeding—that was quite another thing; he hadn’t fed in the wild for so long because, contrary to the wolf in him, the human detested killing.
He was immune to the weather’s biting cold against his skin. He could feel it, for it stayed cold in the Highlands until late spring, but it didn’t chill the human in him as he stood patiently awaiting the right moment, his heart pumping exuberantly with the thrill of the hunt.
He didn’t have to hunt, as he had a fully stocked cellar at his home, but the need—the almost overwhelming primal need—drove him at times like this.
He crunched for his lethal jump as he heard the old stag in the distance approach. He had chosen this particular buck because the twelve-pointer was aged and showing signs of decline. He would honor it by bringing its life full circle. He would make its death quick and purposeful. In spite of his reluctance to kill, he experienced pleasure in the act that was difficult to admit to himself, but it wasn’t for sport …
The stag had not picked up his scent and slowly wandered into range. The man transformed once more into wolf and waited with infinite patience. He wanted a clean kill, one that would be as painless as he could achieve.
All at once and with precision, he was on the stag, bringing him down. A wolf could overpower even something ten times its size. A hybrid had the strength of many wolves.
He made a quick, clean kill, tearing the stag’s throat to accomplish the kill in the instant.
He needed the fresh blood for the vampire so much a part of who he was, and he wanted the fresh raw meat for the wolf. The human honored the old stag with an ancient Indian prayer.
The human … Chase MacAdams was a hybrid extraordinaire, billionaire, and recluse, but he thought himself a pitiful being, alone and disillusioned with his lot in life. With all the power he held, with all the power his father held, they had not seen that his beautiful mother had a stalker and had been in mortal danger that fateful afternoon. They had arrived on the scene too late to save her. Her murderer had been an ancient force, one they had tracked until they hit a dead end. Her murderer had been the prime evil, Count Dracula. With all the blood force that beat in their broken hearts, Chase and his father meant to bide their time until they could annihilate him.
His mother had whispered in her last moments that she had not given up her dear friend’s secret. She had not told Dracula what he wanted to know …