Chapter One: Adara

NOTE: This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains sexually explicit scenes that may include multiple partners, same-sex partners, sex in public places, sex in front of others, acts of sadomasochism, spanking, bondage, and so on. These are described with very explicit, sexual, graphic language. If you find such things disturbing, offensive, triggering, etc., this book is not for you, so please do not read further. All sexual activity in this work is consensual, and all sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older. In this book there are no sexual acts between humans and creatures in animal form, and there are no sexual acts between family members or other relatives. You must be at least 18 years of age to read this book.

Prologue: Dane

I barely recall what happened, but I remember this:

She growled.

It was the sound not just of an animal.

But of an other-worldly animal.

And one out to kill.

That low throaty growl sent shivers down my spine.

Meanwhile, the moon had begun to rise.

I hadn’t yet turned werewolf—although I would, and soon.

But she already had.

Standing before me was my dearest Bianca, changed into an Alpine wolf with fur as white as snow.

She paused and sniffed the air for a moment, trying to get a sense of me. Then she squared her chest and body in an aggressive stance with her paws planted a foot apart. Her shoulders were rolled forward, her ears were flat back against her head, her eyes were narrowed, squinting at me, and her tails was straight out behind her body.

She growled again, baring her long fangs. They were like razors that could eviscerate a grown man, open his throat, or slash his windpipe.

This was what might happen to me.

“Bianca.” I moved my arm forward to stroke her muzzle. “It’s me. It’s Dane.”

Her yellow Lupine eyes showed not the slightest glimmer of recognition.

Instead, she gave a snarl, curling back her wolf lips, and took a step forward with one enormous paw.

I thought of how, an hour before, that paw had been a human hand.

*    *    *

Bianca stroked my cock, trying to arouse me again as we lay on my bed. But I was beyond arousal, utterly satisfied from another torrid sexual encounter—our fourth that afternoon.

“I won’t cage myself.” Touching me as she spoke. “Nor chain myself. Not tonight.” She tossed her head like a defiant pony shaking a mane of black wavy hair.

I sighed. “Bianca, we’ve been over this.”

I cared for her deeply, but she was willful, wild, and reckless.

I reached to touch her cheek. Her skin was soft and pale . . . which was probably why she an Alpine wolf when in Lupine or werewolf form.

Thin and graceful, with a swan-like neck, long well-formed limbs, and a slim waist, she gave up stroking me and lounged on my bed. “I love you madly, Dane.” She stretched her naked body provocatively and let her nipples brush my bare chest. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll do your bidding.”

“You must.” I smiled. “I’m your Alpha.”

“I don’t care.” She pouted with lips that had, many times that afternoon, kissed and nibbled and sucked on my manhood, arousing me to full desire.

Bianca loved sex.

In the months we’d been together, we’d fucked in every possible manner, in every place, in every position, and she never always left me feeling fulfilled. Yet within minutes her orgasm, however intense, she desired another go.

She wanted to live life to the fullest.

“You must think I’m a nymphomaniac,” she was saying, moving her tongue in circles around my left nipple.

I sucked in my breath, sighed, and turned my face to the window as I reached my hand between her legs and felt the wetness of her pussy on my fingers. Outside, the sun was sinking over the ocean in a blaze of red, orange, and purple.

It would have been a beautiful sight, except:

It was the night of the full moon.

As this reality struck me fully, I moved my hand away. She grasped my wrist and pushed it back between her legs. “Use your fingers” she said, her voice a whisper.

We lived on Vukasin, an internment island for werewolves. It was rather like a leper colony, yet not without its luxuries.

For example, the wealthier werewolves, such as Bianca and myself, lived in fine seaside mansions, with servants and gardens and art collections. We ate the best foods from fine China with gold and silver cutlery. We wore designer clothes of the finest velvets, linens, and silks.

The downside of our lavish lifestyle was that for one week each month, as the moon grew full and then waned, we had to cage and chain ourselves at night.

To keep from running wild.

As wolves do when in full Lupine form.

With one hand holding her ass and the other on her twat, I fingered her savagely until she came in an exploding, screaming, shuddering orgasm.

Afterward she lay with her head on my chest, and I stroked her black hair tenderly.

She seemed about to fall asleep.

Looking out the window at the sunset again, I spoke.

“You should go—unless you want to stay here all night. I have extra cages, and plenty of chains. I have shackles to fit even your slim wrists . . . .”

But I knew it was vain to hope she’d stay. She’d spoken many times of how she longed to experience the true werewolf rampage, saying, “As long as I’ve been turned to a wolf, I might as well understand what it means to be one.”

“The moon will be rising—”

She pulled away from me and tossed her pretty head again. “I don’t care about the moon.”

“Well, you should. You should care. If you run amok, the patrols will be on you—”

I was referring, of course, to island’s Enforcement Officers.

The patrols kept the werewolves at bay for the week when the moon was full. Werewolves themselves, they maintained their human reason throughout Moon Week by drinking a rare potion. It was supplied by the mainlanders, those who’d established Vukasin Island, those who wanted werewolves kept isolated and in check. The officers never turned werewolf. They stayed human. And they were arms.

Our fear of them, and not of ourselves, made us suffer the indignities of cages and chains. . . .

My eyes stayed focused to the setting sun outside the window.

She followed my gaze and shrugged. “‘What is life, if not an adventure?’”

This was her motto, embroidered by her laundress on various pieces of her clothing in various languages.

I frowned and took her by the arm with a firm grasp, reaching under my bed for the chains and handcuffs I kept there.

I’d restrain her by force if I had to.

The patrols had more than once shot and killed an uncaged werewolf under the full moon. I didn’t want to risk losing her.

“You know the danger, Bianca.”

“Yes. I do. And Dane? I don’t care.” She pulled away, baring her teeth at me, foreshadowing the snarl and bared fangs that were to come.

Those teeth showed she’d fight me if she had to. I didn’t want a row, so I lay back on the bed and watched as she dressed and left.

After she slammed the bedchamber door behind her, I dressed, too, hurriedly, and followed her—with the chains and handcuffs dangling from my grasp.

If she wouldn’t confine herself, well then, before the moon rose and she turned full Lupine, I’d capture her and chain her.

For her own protection.

I was on the brink of becoming Lupine myself as followed her in the growing darkness toward The Reefs, her fine home overlooking the bay.

I knew the moon would rise soon.

I knew it because my skin was tingly.

I knew that at any moment, dark wolf fur would sprout from my skin.

A thick tail would grow from the base of my spine.

My muscles would expand until I ripped my clothing and left my garments shredded in the dirt behind as I bent and ran on all fours. . . .

I scanned the sky, hoping the moon had not yet appeared.

I didn’t see it.

But Bianca—more recently turned into a werewolf through an attack—she would change sooner than I, even before the moon rose.

A short distance from my home, I came upon her, white as a snow wolf in her now-Lupine form.

There was blood on her muzzle, and I knew she’d been rampaging. All the humans had fled the island, and all the other werewolves had the sense to cage themselves.

But not Bianca.

She’d already been attacking other animals and eviscerating them. Probably breaking into houses, too, and destroying everything in her path.

Still in human form, I leapt on her, hoping to restrain her with the handcuffs and chains, hoping to drag her back home where I could cage her to keep her safe.

She went for my throat. I pushed her away, but she attacked again. I struggled to get the cuffs around her forepaws, to get the chain around her neck.

But it was futile.

She was stronger than I, for she was fully Lupine.

I glanced at the sky. I couldn’t yet see the moon, but I sensed its glow just skimming the horizon.

Soon I’d be fully Lupine, too.

And as the moon appeared, the patrols would appear with it.

Seeing my gaze averted, she pounced, snarling and spitting. Her fangs tore at the flesh of my neck, just missing my carotid. The cut wasn’t enough to disable me, yet I bled profusely. I put up my arms to defend myself, and she bit them. I pushed her away, and she came back, biting yet again.

The chain and cuffs fell from my grasp in the struggle.

As we grappled, the gore from my wounds splattered onto her white fur, turning it a blotchy scarlet.

I fought, but she was fierce. I was fighting for my life. I fell, and we rolled in the dirt as she continued her attack, trying to lock her strong and massive jaws around my throat.

I wrestled against her frightful strength, in vain I hoped the full Lupine change would overcome me, and I’d become a wolf, too. That seemed the only way I’d have a chance to win against her wolf power.

Suddenly, she paused. She pulled back and sniffed me.

I looked up into her eyes, hoping to see some of the Bianca that I loved.

But she was absent. Those eyes were bestial, squinted, predatory.

All that showed in them was desire.

Not the sexual desire I’d seen earlier as her lovely eyes had rolled back in her head, and she’d whispered, “My dearest Dane. Take me. Use me. Fuck me. . . . Ravage me.”

The only desire she had now was to kill me.

At that moment, as she hesitated, I twisted away. I scrambled to my feet and ran, blood streaming from my wounds.

Stunned, Bianca lingered yet a moment longer before leaping forward in pursuit.

But I had a head start, and I sprinted toward home.

Yes, like a coward, I ran.

There was no way to help her, to save her from herself.

She was set on destroying me. I couldn’t remain and protect her from the Officers.

It was run or be killed.

By now I was only a short distance from my estate.

I hoped to get there in time to swing the tall and heavy iron gates shut against her.

I turned onto the drive, and the gates came into view. I was exhausted from running. And I was wounded. I’d lost a lot of blood, and I felt about to pass out.

Yet still I ran.

And then, I heard her rushing up behind me, the sound of her white wolf paws on the gravel as she dashed along on all fours. . . .

*    *    *

Chapter One: Adara

The moon is waning.

The werewolves won’t be active for another three weeks.

And that’s a good thing, because I’m here among them, a human in danger.

Yet I’m safe.

I’ll be leaving as the moon grows full.

I used to love the full moon. We all did. But now, it symbolizes the worst kind of terror. It frightens everyone.

But I needn’t be frightened right now.

The moon is not yet full. I’m safe. I’m protected. And I’m happy.

I’m here on Vukasin Island with my mother, my father, and my two sisters.

The island is stunning—heaven on earth, really—with lush vegetation, sandy beaches, homes of all sizes, hotels, restaurants, cafes, shops, malls . . . . And a big public festival one evening per month, plus lots of smaller parties.

Vukasin Island has everything you could want.

Except . . . it’s really a prison. For werewolves.

Or a detainment camp.

I’m not sure what to call Vukasin Island, because its natural beauty contrasts with what it is, why it was established, what it has come to mean.

So here’s some background, as my mother told me, when she deemed me old enough to hear the story:

“The mainlanders set up Vukasin Island decades ago when the Lupine threat began getting out of hand,” she said.

I was old enough then to know that “Lupine” meant “werewolves,” but I wanted more details. “Getting out of hand? How?” I think I was only ten at the time.

“In those days, Adara.” She said my name with affection. “On the mainland one week a month, for three days on either side of the full moon—seven days total—the werewolves rampaged, breaking into shops, looting, invading homes. Attacking humans.”

I must have had a scared look on my face, for she said, “This was in the old days. Before Vukasin. You’re safe now. We have the Zokeery Enforcement Officer patrols, and besides, all humans must leave Vukasin during Taleeneff, the full moon week.”

“I know that.” For as long as I could remember, I’d been packed up and sent to my aunt and uncle’s place on the mainland for the full-moon week of every month.

She continued. “But in those days, before Vukasin, the Lupines—werewolves—rampaged and murdered on the mainland every month. Sometimes they’d bite or scratch without killing, turning humans into their kind, into wolves. To increase their numbers and dominate the planet.”

I nodded.

“To stop them, mainlanders from every country got together and established a place for them. Vukasin Island was uninhabited because it had no water. But the lush vegetation showed there was water deep underground. When Vukasin was chosen as the place for werewolves, mainlanders drilled, sparing no expense, until they found the water. And then . . . .”

She paused for dramatic effect.

“The mainland governments jointly established the island, in midst of the ocean, as an isolation colony for all werewolves. And here we are.”

She gave me a strange smile that I remember to this day.

*    *    *

I saw one yesterday. One of the werewolves, I mean. And not just any werewolf.

The Alpha.

Even in human form, during the safe time, Lupines rarely show their faces during the day. They’re nocturnal.

This one isn’t, though. He stood on the veranda of his enormous seaside villa, as if lost in thought, staring out to sea. He was bare-chested, wearing fitted trousers that showed off the muscles of his calves and thighs, not to mention—I confess, I noticed it—his perfectly formed ass.

Of course, with his shirt being off, I could see his abs, his nipples, his taut pecs.

The sun as it sank in the west gleamed on a bit of downy hair between them.

I was walking on the part of the beach that is public. Mainlanders and werewolves own vacation houses on Vukasin. Some are small cottages, and some, like this one, are lavish seaside homes with wide beaches.

The beach is private. But the rule is that if the sand is wet, that part of the beach is public.

I’d taken my shoes off and was walking along the wet sand, making my way to the villa beyond this one, for I’d heard it was for sale.

I’d never been inside a mansion. My father owns a hardware store here on the island, so we’re comfortable but far from rich. Our social circle isn’t rich, either. So our friends all live in modest houses like ours.

Anyway, I was hoping a realtor might be there to give me a tour of the mansion.

The waves washed in as I walked, lapping at my feet.

I enjoyed the warmth of the water on my feet until, as I passed before his mansion, there he was.

Dane Wiltshire. Alpha male.

I’d heard of him, of course—the mysterious Lupine billionaire who lived on the biggest estate on the island.

He was reclusive. Rarely had anyone seen him.

But now I was seeing him.

Seeing his perfect male body and ruggedly handsome face in the afternoon sun.

It was like seeing a sunlit vision in a dream.

Yes, he was that good looking.

I’m average looking, so I’m used to average-looking men. That’s what I attract.

But as I walked by, he took two steps closer to me on his deck, as if he wanted to get a better look at me.

The sinking sun glowed in the cloudless sky behind me. I was wearing a thin filmy sundress, and I wondered if the sunlight was shining through my dress, showing my legs.

I wasn’t wearing panties.

It was a hot day, and I’d decided to go without undergarments. I was walking by myself and hadn’t expected to meet anyone, other than the realtor who had the house for sale.

He, Dane Wiltshire, took two more steps toward me on his porch and gave a wry smile.

They have a superior sense of smell, werewolves do. I wondered if I gave off a scent that said, “No panties.”

I was so stunned by this thought and by the attention from him that I stumbled, barefoot in the wet sand, nearly dropping my sandals. I looked at my feet, and then, just to have someplace to look other than at him, I glanced behind me at the tide washing the imprints of my footsteps in the sand.

I feared he was laughing at me.

Nevertheless, I gathered my courage and looked back up at him, there on the wide veranda that wrapped around his oceanside home.

He wasn’t laughing.

He was giving a quizzical look. As if to ask, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

But in a nice way. Not rude or offensive or challenging.

By now I was almost crossing the property line to the house next door to him that was for sale.

Our eyes locked.

I didn’t dare smile.  

He didn’t smile either. He just stared at me. As if, with his yellow-flecked Lupine eyes, although in human form, he could see right into my soul.

Little did I know this was the beginning of something that would take me to heaven and back.

And to hell and back, too.