Blood Wolf (Vintage Collection) - Page 42

Something in his eyes made her obey. She turned and ran, twigs and leaves crunching under her feet.

46

Damian cried out as the change took him. His irises blazed with heat as they pulsed, and his vision distorted. Bones cracked, muscles stretched and contracted, tendons broke and knitted back together. Fire consumed his innards. They extended and shrank as they changed from omnivore to carnivore. Black and silver fur sprouted from his follicles, causing an uncontrollable itch. His body shook as he scratched himself. Nails narrowed and lengthened into claws, and he drew blood. His snout elongated. Tears flowed from his eyes, and he screamed as his nose broke, his septum deviated.

The worst part was the nose, even after twenty years.

No longer man, but beast, the wolf sniffed the ground. Hunger consumed him. The lust for the hunt and the kill boiled through his veins. He sniffed and caught the earthy scent of a small rabbit. His heart beat soundly as he raced toward the animal.

He stopped and perked his ears when a different aroma filled his nostrils. He inhaled.

Fresh. Musky. Female.

Mate.

Time to mate.

He ran as though the world were ending.

47

Suzanne stopped, doubled over, and panted. The dry heaves took her. She needed oxygen. She needed water.

A rustle from behind unnerved her, and she started to run again. Something was following her. Her bowels tightened and her side cramped in pain. But she kept running. She had promised Damian, and now it looked as though he had been right. She was in danger. And that danger was coming for her.

Panting and gasping, she ran as fast as her legs would go, crunching the flora beneath her feet. Keep going, she told herself. Keep going.

But a root sprang out and tripped her. Having landed on her face, she moved to get up. The rustling behind her was louder now. Whatever stalked her was not far behind.

“Damn it, get up!” she said aloud.

As she rose, an animal hurled itself through the air onto her and flattened her on her back.

Her breath came in short puffy gasps as her heart pounded. The animal’s claws pressed into her abdomen, knocked the wind out of her, and sent icy pain into her bowels. She gulped and nearly vomited, and then she looked up at her attacker.

A wolf.

Black with silver markings.

Very large.

Her pulse raced. She opened her mouth and screamed.

The wolf growled at her, pawing the blanket wrapped around her chest. His fangs dripped with saliva. And his eyes, a curious color of brownish green, swirled as he stared into hers.

Curious.

And recognizable.

Damian.

They were Damian’s eyes.

Blood wolf.

Samael had said Damian was a blood wolf. She shuddered under the weight of his lupine body.

A werewolf?

The full moon shone brightly, bathing them in its veiling light.

Could it be?

“Damian?”

No response.

The animal continued to paw at her and growl, his eyes a blazing mass of swirling green.

Suzanne gasped, groping the thick night air for oxygen.

“Damian, I know it’s you. Please don’t hurt me.”

His growl was low and angry. Primal. She had but one shot. She had to reach him—if indeed it was him—or die.

“Damian. Don’t do this. It’s me, mo leannan. Suzanne.”

He ripped the blanket off her with his claws.

“You don’t want to hurt me. I know you don’t.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as her heart opened. “I trust you, Damian. You won’t hurt me.”

The wolf cocked his head and gazed at her silently.

“I love you, Damian.” Suzanne reached out a trembling hand and rubbed his flank. “You. Only you.”

The wolf released her, backed off, and sat a few feet away.

She rose to a sit to look at him. “It is you.”

She approached him with hesitancy, sat next to him, and tentatively touched his dog-like face. His fur was soft, like the fleece of her blanket, and it tickled her shaking fingers.

“My God, you’re beautiful.”

She jumped when he growled again. Something was different, though. It wasn’t coming from his throat, but from his stomach.

“They starved you, didn’t they?” She stood up. “I’ll find you something to eat.”

He whimpered. She didn’t know how, but she understood that he needed to go himself. That he had to kill an animal to eat.

“All right, then. Go. I’ll be fine. But I don’t want to see it, okay?”

He cocked his head.

She needed to add something else, but she wasn’t sure how. She trusted him with her life. But she wasn’t sure about the lives of others. Yet. She spoke hesitantly. “Damian. Please don’t hurt any people.”

He trotted off into the darkness.

An hour later, he returned to her and lay down beside her. She wrapped her arms in his silky fur and slept.

48

“What are you doing here?” Isabella glared at Rex Donnelly. “It’s not even sunrise.”

“Isabella, this is my sister, Viveca.” Rex motioned to the stunning woman who stood beside him.

Raven hair framed an oval face and fell to her shoulders in cascading curls. Her skin was the color of moonlight, and her lips the incandescent crimson of a ripe cherry. Her eyes, though, outshone the rest. The color of a clear emerald and lashed with ebony, they held sadness. And pain.

Tags: Helen Hardt Paranormal
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