Demon Wolf. Bonnie Vanak
In his five years as a navy SEAL, he’d seen his share of horrors. But this... The way the little group clung to each other, as if providing comfort in their last terrified moments, made him sick with anger.
A small whimper caught his attention. Dale raised his weapon and crawled down.
A black puppy, barely alive, hidden by the corpses. Dale’s throat tightened. The little guy hadn’t wanted to leave his mistress.
Or maybe it wasn’t a dog. He called for Wolf on the radio. When Etienne arrived, the werewolf studied the dog, his eyes furious.
“It’s a wolf, sir. Not a dog.”
Stunned, Dale glanced at the corpses. “Your people?”
“Not Draicon. Our young don’t shift until they reach puberty. I’ve never seen this species before.”
Like Mages, there were different classes of werewolves.
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know.” Etienne wiped a trickle of sweat from his face, smearing the green and black greasepaint. “These carry a deeper, richer scent.”
“This place smells of darkness. No wonder the intel was screwed up.”
The sounds of battle ceased. Dale glanced around and made a decision. “Take the pup, head west and lead the men out of here. Use that nose of yours and flush out the smells of gunpowder, avoid the fighting at all costs.”
“Curt...”
“It’s not human. Whoever did this isn’t human.”
Etienne’s jaw tightened. “All the more reason for me to stay with you, sir.”
“I’m right behind you. I’m not leaving this area for some naive civilian to stumble into and get killed.”
“If you ward it with magick, you’ll drain your powers,” Etienne warned.
Dale gave a cold smile. “You have no idea of the extent of my powers. Now go.”
As soon as his men had passed, Dale lifted his hands, closed his eyes and began a low chant. The magick shield would prevent humans from entering the area, and save them from meeting the same fate as the wolves.
Slightly drained, he opened his eyes, and turned to leave. A low growl rumbled behind him.
The wolf was as large as a small Shetland pony. Sleek black fur stood on edge. Dale remained motionless, his gaze never leaving the creature.
Not even when the wolf opened its mouth, showing fangs as sharp as dinner knives....
* * *
Her world had shattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Her parents, her pack, they were all dead.
Simon, her little brother, whom the demons promised to spare in exchange for her slavery to them...dead, as well. The demons had lied.
She was only eleven, but already experienced in her powers as wolf. In wolf form, Keira stumbled through the undergrowth. Rage and anguish blinded her to everything. Soon the demons would return and force her to do their bidding.
Magick skimmed her fur, pinged off her muzzle. Light, good magick. She shook her head and growled and loped toward the source.
A tall man lifted his hands to the sky and chanted. He was clad in uniform, his face disguised, and the metallic scent of weaponry clung to him. Rage engulfed her. How dare he violate her people’s final resting ground?
Blinded to everything except the red haze to hurt as she hurt, she stalked forward and growled.
The man fingered the gray metal weapon and she charged.
Knocking him down, she leaped on him and raked a sharp claw over his arm. But the man made no move to fire the weapon.
Confused, she backed off, watching warily as he stood. Their gazes met and she felt an odd connection, as if this powerful man of magick understood.
He regarded her quietly, sadness in his gray eyes. “I won’t hurt you. I will not return evil for evil, for whatever was done to your people is making you react.”
A giggle sounded nearby. Keira tilted her head, fear curling in her stomach. The demons were returning for her. Pure evil had infiltrated the region and it would never die. But this man who’d refused to hurt back, he was good. She sensed it.
She lowered her head, pawed at the ground and hit him with her muzzle, urging him to leave. The man’s mouth narrowed.
“I won’t leave you here alone.”
Keira growled and head-butted him again. The man seemed torn, and glanced toward the west. She knew if the demons found him here, they’d enslave him, as well. He must not remember her, or he’d return. She sensed it.
So she bit him. He yelled and looked down at the wound, blood trickling with her saliva, saliva that carried the memory spell the demons infused into her. By the time he looked up, she was gone, fleeing into the forest toward her captors, vanishing from the man’s sight and memory.
Giving him time to escape to safety.
While she charged forward straight into hell.
Chapter 1
If he discovered her true identity, the powerful Mage would kill her.
From across the bar, Keira Solomon studied her quarry. The glass of white wine gripped in her trembling hand rattled against the polished wood counter. She ignored the flirting drunk to her right and riveted her gaze to Lt. Commander Dale Curtis.
The navy SEAL commander of Team 21 sat by himself, his expression as lonely as she felt. Keira’s heart went out to him, knowing she was the reason for his turmoil.
Careful, she warned herself. If you let him get under your skin, you’re a dead woman. She concentrated on the man instead of her feelings, gauging how to approach him.
Though he looked no more than thirty-eight, the Mage was hundreds of years old. The commander had taut, angular cheekbones, a chin carved from granite, tempered by a full, wide mouth. His thick black hair, silvered at the temples, did not touch his starched collar. He looked like a powerful man of strong character, unaccustomed to compromise. But his most striking feature was his piercing gray eyes, shaded by thick, dark brows. Those eyes could become hard and unyielding, coaxing a confession out of the most tight-lipped prisoner, or turn seductive with promise, charming a woman into his bed.
She’d discovered all this about the man from listening to gossip in public haunts like this bar.
A severe khaki uniform hid a body firm with muscle that was now layered with deep scars. Keira knew the depth and width of each mark, knew how he’d endured, tight-lipped, as each one lashed his skin. And she knew the depth of his screams when the agony she inflicted became too much to bear when the Centurion demons forced her to hurt him.
No other man had survived such torture. Past victims had died from the force of her claws. Centurion demons had enslaved her to torture others. Now she had a rare chance to break free, because the man she’d tortured was strong enough to vanquish the demons for eternity.
“Hey, sweetie.” Obviously determined to get her attention, the big, barrel-chested drunk put a paw on her arm. “Lemme buy you another drink.”
Giving him a look of utter disdain, she pushed her glass aside. “No, thanks. I don’t accept favors from gorillas.”
The man narrowed his eyes as his companions chortled with laughter. “Ain’t no ape.”
“Okay, then. Chimp shifter.” She gave him a singularly sweet smile. “I can’t quite tell, but you all smell the same.”
“Bitch.” The shifter scowled. “I should drag you out to the parking lot, show you the meaning of respect. Flat on your back, your legs spread.”