Dark Wolf Rising Read online

  Dark Wolf Rising (Heart of the Shifter #1)

  ISBN 10: 1940968216

  ISBN 13: 978-1-940968-21-6

  Copyright © 2015 by Stephanie Rowe.

  Cover design © 2015 by Kelli Ann Morgan, www.inspirecreativeservices.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, disseminated, or transmitted in any form or by any means or for any use, including recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author and/or the artist. The only exception is short excerpts or the cover image in reviews.

  Please be a leading force in respecting the right of authors and artists to protect their work. This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel or on the cover are either products of the author’s or artist’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or the artist.

  For further information, please contact [email protected]

  Dark Wolf Rising

  ***

  A Heart of the Shifter Novel

  Stephanie Rowe

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Title Page

  Praise for Stephanie Rowe

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Sneak Peek: Dark Wolf Unbound

  Sneak Peek: Shadows of Darkness

  Sneak Peek: Leopard's Kiss

  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Rides a Motorcycle

  Select List of Other Books

  Stephanie Rowe Bio

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  BRYN McKENZIE WOULD be dead by Thursday.

  And it was going to be an ugly, terrible death.

  It was almost two in the morning on Christmas Eve day, and she hadn't slept yet. She just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting. Listening for the inevitable click of toenails, or a low growl, or the spine-chilling howl that would tell her that her moment had come.

  Time was almost out, and she knew she would die today or tomorrow, which would be fitting, given that her own mother had died on Christmas Day. The magic of Christmas hadn't mattered to her since that horrible day, and it really wasn't foremost in her thoughts at the moment.

  All she could do was lie there and frantically try to figure out a way to survive the death that was coming for her. She hadn't come up with a solution yet, despite being locked in the hotel room for three weeks. Her location was a secret...but she had no doubt that they would find her. When they did, there would be no escape.

  She let out a deep breath, too exhausted and strung out to sleep, listening to the low conversation of the men in her living room.

  Men who had been assigned to protect her.

  Men who would fail.

  They thought they knew how to keep her safe, but they hadn't seen what she had seen...which was why she had to die. No one who'd witnessed that particular murder would be allowed to live, and she knew that.

  She'd known it when she'd stayed at the scene and waited for the police.

  She'd known it when she'd agreed to testify at Jace Donovan's murder trial.

  She'd known it when her team of highly skilled police officers had set her up in this hotel room, determined to keep her alive long enough to testify on the day after Christmas.

  She'd known the risks, but she'd done it anyway. She would stay here and hope she was wrong, because a woman had died in front of her, and Bryn was the only one who knew who had done it. There was no way she could stay silent if it meant the man who'd killed that innocent woman went free. Without Bryn's testimony, the police would never have known who had murdered her. The victim's name was Melissa Stevens, a name Bryn would never forget, and the man who'd killed her was Jace Stephens…right after he shifted into a wolf.

  Bryn was trying to do the right thing for once in her life. After her mom had died when Bryn was seventeen, the guilt had driven her into a self-destructive hell to hide from the pain. She'd been fighting her way back ever since, but she still felt like the shadows of the accident and the subsequent dark time in her life were always haunting her. If she died trying to bring justice to the monster who'd slaughtered an innocent woman, then at least she'd die trying to do something worthy with her life.

  It wasn't enough to simply want to make a difference. She had to actually make a difference. If she could stay alive long enough to testify, then maybe she could begin to understand why she'd survived the car accident that had killed her mother.

  The truth was, although Bryn had accepted the risk that she might be assassinated before the trial, God help her, she didn't want to die, and she really didn't want to die the way Melissa had died: slowly, agonizingly, in a pool of her own blood, with her throat ripped from her body.

  Bryn squeezed her eyes shut against the images that wouldn't leave her mind, the images of that horrible moment, that brutal attack, the screams that hadn't stopped ringing through her mind since it had happened. "Breathe, Bryn," she whispered, trying to slow the sudden racing of her heart. "It's okay. Right now, you're perfectly safe. No one has hunted you down yet—"

  She suddenly became aware that the living room had gone silent. The men had stopped talking, and tension cut through the air, weighing on her like an iron band around her lungs.

  Her heart leapt into her throat, and she bolted upright in bed. Was this it? Was it happening now? She leapt to her feet, grabbed the gun with the silver bullets from her nightstand, and backed into the corner, aiming at the door of the bedroom. She'd already dragged the heavy hotel dresser and couch in front of the door, but she knew it wouldn't save her. Her hands were shaking, and sweat was trickling down her back. She'd known they would find her, but now that they had, she couldn't control the raw fear shrieking through her mind.

  There was a low growl from the living room, and she froze, fear paralyzing her. A wolf. Then one of the men screamed, and a frenzy of growls and snarls erupted from the living room. Gunshots. Crashes. Howls. Screams.

  The men were being murdered.

  She looked down at the gun in her hands, and she groaned at the sight of her shaking fingers wrapped around the metal. Highly trained professionals were being slaughtered out there, and she thought a gun would help her? She'd never even shot one before. She couldn't fight. She had to run. Now!

  Frantic, she raced to the window. She was on the fifth floor. Too high to jump. She'd been happy about that at the time, knowing that no one could climb in her window, but now, dear God, now, she wished it was lower. Another crash sounded from the living room, and more gunshots.

  There had to be handholds. She wasn't going to die tonight, and she wasn't going to die the way Melissa had, slaughtered by a werewolf. If she fell, at least she'd die quickly and painlessly. She shoved the gun into the waistband of her jeans and reached for the window—

  A hand clamped down over her mouth and she was yanked backward, away from the window.

  A silent scream caught in her throat, and she fought frantically, desperately, but whoever held her was a thousand times stronger than her. God, no, she wasn't ready to die—

  "It's a rose," her captor whispered into her ear. "A white rose for friendship, a red rose for your heart, and a blue rose because the impossible is always possible."

  She froze in disbelief. She hadn't heard that poem since she was fourte
en, and wildly in love with her best friend, Cash Burns, who had disappeared without explanation one dark night so long ago. It couldn't be him. She hadn't heard from him or found any trace of his existence in thirteen years, and she'd tried to find him.

  "It's me, Bryn," he said, his breath warm against the side of her neck. "Don't make a sound."

  Tears filled her eyes as she recognized his voice, a voice she'd never thought she'd hear again. Why was Cash in her room? How was he here? She nodded once, and he immediately released his death grip on her mouth.

  She spun around, and her heart seemed to stop at the sight of him. She remembered a thin, gawky fifteen year old, but standing before her, illuminated by the moonlight, was a heavily muscled man with piercing green eyes so intense they seemed to bore right through her. His dark hair was tightly cropped, no longer hanging ragged past his shoulders. His black T-shirt stretched across his muscled chest, and several long-healed scars crisscrossed his left temple. He was pure elemental male, dangerous and wildly sensual. She never would have recognized him as her childhood friend, except for his eyes, which she'd never forget. "Cash?"

  Another shout echoed from the living room, jerking her attention to the door. It was closed, but the dresser and couch were ajar, showing how Cash had gotten into the room. Clearly, the heavy furniture had been nothing to him, tossed aside as easily as he used to toss her around when they'd gone swimming in the river as kids.

  "It's my job to kill you. We have to make it look good." Cash pulled out a heavy knife. "Scream like I'm ripping you up." Then he dragged the knife across his forearm, spilling blood all over the carpet. "Scream. Now."

  She screamed, a scream that tore from her throat and never seemed to stop. Cash was bleeding all over the carpet, taking the injury to his arm without even flinching. Good God. Who had he become? She backed away as he yanked the comforter off the bed.

  "Lie down on it," he ordered. "I'll wrap you up when I take you out through there, and they won't know you're still alive. But we have to move fast. They'll be in here in seconds."

  She gaped at him, a million scenarios rushing through her head. The door of the bedroom shook as something flew into it. There were fewer human screams now, and more growling and howling. "You're with them? With the werewolves? How?"

  His eyes glittered. "Now, Bryn, or I can't save you." His voice was low and urgent. "They have to think you're dead."

  She suddenly understood why he'd cut himself. The wolves needed to smell blood on the comforter. "Won't they know it's your blood?"

  "Yeah, but they're distracted. It should be enough. For now."

  She had a split second to decide whether to trust him, a man she hadn't seen in over a decade, who was now, apparently, killing people for a pack of werewolves. He was a stranger, but he was also Cash, and he was her only chance. She'd believed in him once. She had to pray that his heart hadn't changed the way his body had. "Give me the knife."

  He handed it to her without question, and she dragged it across her own forearm. He swore as she cut herself, leaping toward her and yanking the knife out of her hand. "What the hell was that for?"

  "It has to be my blood. They'll know." Her knees buckled and her head spun as the pain hit. She bit her lip, fighting back gasps of pain as she cradled her arm to her chest.

  He caught her, his hands framing her waist as her knees started to give out. "Shit, Bryn. You haven't changed at all." But his voice was affectionate as he helped her down to the floor. "I missed you, babe."

  "You didn't miss me. You ditched me, and vanished from my life without a word." She stretched out on the floor, biting her lip when her injured arm brushed against her knee.

  "I missed you," he repeated, his voice softer this time. Their eyes met, and she saw in them the person she'd once known, who she'd trusted with her life so many times before.

  "You better have missed me. I'm amazing." She gripped his wrist. "If you get me killed, I'll never forgive you."

  "A threat that still works with me." He winked at her, then paused just long enough to trace his fingers across her cheek. "Bryn," he said softly, his touch achingly familiar, and yet, so different from what it had once been.

  A wolf howled in the living room, and he swore. "See you on the flip side, babe."

  She swallowed, her mouth so dry she could barely talk. "Okay." She kept eye contact with him as long as she could, and she didn't miss the flash of regret across his face before he flipped the blanket over her.

  She sucked in her breath and rolled over, letting him truss her up in the stuffy fabric. Her arms were trapped against her sides, and her legs were locked together, entombing her in the comforter. She was utterly defenseless. Panic hit her, and she started to struggle, unable to stop herself.

  "Bryn." Cash's voice was a low whisper, and she felt him touch her shoulder through the comforter. "It's just like when we were kids. Be dead."

  She squeezed her eyes shut. "Just how good are you?" she asked, her voice strangled with fear. "There are wolves out there! What if they come after me?"

  "I'm a serious, fucking badass, babe. I'm a thousand times what I was as a kid. I'll keep you alive, I swear." His voice radiated cocky arrogance, just like it had when they were teens, except that now his voice was deep, sliding over her skin like a sensual caress.

  Heat flushed her body, and she thought back to the number of times that he'd stepped up and taken the heat for her. She remembered the way the bullies in the school always left him alone, terrified of the raw strength and power in his thin frame. Back then, he'd been the badass that no one expected, and now, he was mouthwatering muscle and man, apparently on the payroll of a pack of wolves. Which would trump, his loyalty to the pack, or to her? "What if you have to kill them to keep me alive?"

  He paused for a long moment. "Then I'll kill them."

  She felt the truth in his voice, and tears filled her eyes. It had been so long since anyone had stood up for her the way he always had. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed that feeling of knowing that she didn't have to fight her battles on her own. "Damn you," she said softly.

  He laughed quietly, squeezing her ass through the comforter, a move that had been obnoxious when they were teens, but that now sent heat cascading through her. "I love it when I make you cry. You ready?"

  She knew he wasn't asking if she was ready. He was asking if she trusted him. She let out a deep breath. Cash had always been the one she believed in, and she still did, despite the gaping emptiness of time since she'd last seen him. "Yes. Let's go."

  "That's my girl." He scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder, his arm locking her down against him as he headed for the door that separated them from the wolves that had been sent to kill her.

  Chapter 2

  BRYN FOUGHT FOR breath in the dank, musty cocoon, her lungs aching as she heard Cash drag the dresser further away from the doorway so they could fit through it. Then she heard the door open, and the sound of the battle grew louder. She went utterly still, terrified by the thundering of her heart as he walked out into the living room. Wouldn't they hear it? The coppery scent of blood flooded her nose. She could hear the heavy panting of wolves, and the snarls and snapping of teeth, and the faint groans of humans barely alive. An overwhelming sense of grief and guilt flooded her, and she had to fight back sobs. She'd known these men, joked with them, asked them about their families, and now they were dead or dying because of her.

  And this was Cash's world? How had he ever become associated with them? The urge to scream and run filled her, and she had to clench her fists to stave off the panic and will her body to stay relaxed, knowing that if she made any move, she would die instantly.

  "Stand down," Cash commanded sharply, and the sounds of the wolves faded until there was only panting. She could still hear the groans of men, and she whispered a prayer that they were still alive. "Jesus, Damien." Cash's grip on her tightened, and his body was taut. "What the hell did you do here? It was supposed to be containment only.
You attacked these men."

  "Had to be done." Damien's voice was rough, scraping over her skin like a sharp-edged knife. "The bastards wouldn't stand down." She knew instantly that Damien was a man to stay away from, a man who was dripping with foulness and depravity. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he didn't realize she was still alive in the comforter.

  "You done with her?" Damien asked. "The witness is dead?"

  "Yeah," Cash said evenly, pitching his voice just loud enough for her to be able to hear it over the sounds of the pack growling. "I'll ditch the body where we planned."

  "Change of plans." Damien sounded closer now, and she felt Cash stiffen. "I'll take her."

  Cash went very still, and she felt sudden heat pour from his body through the comforter. "Who changed the plans?" he asked carefully.

  "I did." Damien was so close that the darkness of his energy slid across her.

  "Jace is still the pack leader," Cash said evenly, his voice like razor-sharp steel. "I take orders from him."

  "Jace is in prison, so as his number two, it's my pack right now," Damien said. She felt his hand touch her back, but Cash swiftly stepped away.

  "My orders," Damien said, irritation crackling through his voice. "My call. Give me the body."

  There was a long moment of silence, and Bryn's heart started hammering. Sweat was streaming down her temples. The heat Cash was generating was suffocating, her lungs straining for oxygen with each breath.

  Finally, Cash spoke. "You're his number two only because I declined," Cash said, his voice so low it sounded almost like a growl. "If I decide to claim it, it's mine, so back off." Then he turned, and began to walk, his strides long and even as he walked away from Damien.