The earth is cool under my butocks and Aiden is a furnace above me. I’m pinned on the ground with my jeans around my ankles and I can’t quite remember how I got there. Rough bark tugs at my hair and prints itself into the back of my wrists. Urgent, demanding hands ruck my shirt and bra up and free my breasts.
“Please. I need you.” Aiden’s voice is soft and pleading. His hands, his body, they are anything but. They don’t plead. They demand, they take. One hand tangles with my hair and wrists, yanking stray hairs, splitting fragments of bark from the tree bole beneath and behind us. The tang of sap fights against the musk of sweat and desire. Aiden’s hips thrust between my legs and my back scrapes against the dirt and leaves and brown pine needles beneath us.
He’s inside me already, driving hard and fast. His sweat
“Fly?” I swap a puzzled look with Sarah. “That’s not one I know about. Command any werewolf, speak to any werewolf like a Pack link. And immunity to silver. Sort of. Still hurts like a… still hurts, but it’ll heal up as fast as any other wound, won’t knock me out. Been like that since forever.”Ian harrumphs. First time I’ve heard someone actually do that. “How long is forever?”“Few thousand years at least. Far back as I can remember any lives. Not that I’ve remembered all of them, there's way too many.”“That’s not a problem most werewolves have,” Ian says quietly, frowning. “What’s your… plan? Your intentions. Your Majesty.”I can feel my sho
“Never rains but pours,” I sigh, linking my arm through Aiden and kissing his cheek with sympathy. “Or is it no rest for the wicked? My poor sweet Mate, pour yourself onto the quadbike, Reese can drive you to meet them, and I’ll come on one of the horses. Timothy’s perfectly capable of seeing our unwanted guests off, we can leave Shelley, Mary and Tom with him. Baxter too, unless he’s already seen more of Black than he wants to.”Aiden leans into me. I can fee him collecting himself before he speaks. “Goldhawk are here to talk to Badger’s Den anyway. I’ll talk to Caroline, or that other one, the one they had as spokesman. Let them know to expect guests and see if they can put the visitors up somewhere.”I elect myself to update Timothy and put him in charge of things in the village, and to give T
Everything is downhill now. Goldhawk’s mission is over pretty much as soon as they arrive. Everything else for them is just meeting people, and that doesn’t need much organisation. It’ll happen, with Badger’s Den giving them somewhere to stay for the night. The two new Mates are going to want the visit to go on longer, but Mark will need to get back. Either Paul will stay behind, or Caroline will visit London, probably. I hope it forces Ian into doing something. Join, Challenge, I don’t care as long as it becomes his job to keep the kids out of trouble until they’re a couple of years older. I finally get a bit of time without someone wanting me to do something,or decide something, or explain something. I prop myself against the wall of the building, and stuff my hands in my pockets. There’s a papery crinkle. I pull out the folded sheet, and remember why I put
*** Some Time Later...*** “/Aiden? Can you hear me? Aiden? Please?/” “/Huh? Who? Imogen? That you?/” I really wasn't expecting to hear from my sister. Not this way. A text, sure. I’ve been bad at texting her, despite my promises. A message from her complaining about it wouldn’t surprise me. “/Aiden, thank the Goddess!/” Is she crying? My little sister? “/Imogen, what’s wrong
Foreword Vampires, shapeshifters and ghosts have appeared in myth and fiction, in some form or other, for thousands of years. Each generation of myth-makers and writers has brought their own twist to the legends, and I am no different in my writing of this story. Some elements you will regcognise. Others I have modified, or left out, or changed entirely, to create something that is new. So welcome to my tale of destiny, love, loss, friendship, discovery and mystery. I hope you enjoy the ride! Chapter 1: Sarah “Roberto this, Roberto that, Roberto calls and you run off to him without a second thought!” Brian complains in that polished voice of his. He never shouts. He prides himself on that. Perhaps that should have been a warning sign. “You're nothing but his bitch. I bought those tickets weeks ago, and you'r
Our pack are all good fighters, even the pups, but the attackers have the ferocity of the desperate. I can see the collars they wear, and my suspicion is confirmed when a cry of “Hunters!” goes up from the East side. Hunters are human, but they know about werewolves and they hate us. The collared werewolves fighting for them will be captured rogues, made into their slaves through their twisted science. Hunters know our weaknesses, and use them against us- silver, mainly, fashioned into weapons. They don’t know my weaknesses. I’m out of favour with the Moon Goddess, that's what they whisper behind my back. I have my own weaknesses, but I don't share those of my Pack. My connection to the Goddess is too weak. I lack the link that the rest of the Pack share, I'm unable to hear the mental commands of the Alpha. The light of the Moon's full face doesn't force me to Change. Four years past the age at which she should have blessed me with a Mate, and I still have none.
Walking in to the hall at the start of a rehearsal is always a bit on an assault on the ears. One hundred assorted instruments are all being variously plucked, bowed, blown or thumped as their players warm up and check that everything is in working order. I slip in among the first violins and reverently remove Malachi from his case. Malachi and I have been playing together for four years now. I bought him with my very own money, money that I earned from my first album- the one I released just after winning Young Musician of the Year. He's a Cremona Stradivari and very precious to me. I do have another violin, Eddie, who is an electric violin made of carbon fibre and looks skeletal and very cool, but for the classical orchestral pieces they want a classically-styled violin.We are performing Beethoven at the moment, a collection of his Sonatas, including the 'Kreutzer,' number nine, which is said to be on
It isn't until I am on a late-night Greyhound, headed cross-state to the airport, that the full extent of what I have done comes crashing in on me. I am Packless, an exile, without support or backup. No better than a rogue. If I stumble into the territory of a strange Pack without permission, they are within their rights to kill me or press me into slavery. Back home, I may have been a freak but I was protected by my position, as heir to the Pack Alpha of Shining River. Now that protection is gone. All I have is my piercings, switched to silver once I was clear of the Pack lands, because nobody will immediately jump to the conclusion that the guy with the silver ear- and eyebrow-rings must be a werewolf.The bus is not crowded. I have the seat to myself, and I'm glad of it. I can huddle into the corner, under the window, and have a quiet panic at