Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)

Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)
Pamela Palmer



Chapter One

The Earth opened before her with a bloodcurdling scream. Day turned to night.

There was no escape.

Mere feet in front of her, an unearthly red-orange light burst from that wide, gaping hole. Still, the Earth screamed. Tied to a stake at the edge of that abyss, she could do nothing but watch. And tremble.

She was not alone and, oh, if only she were. Because one of the other four tied around that gaping maw with her was her brother, Xavier. All her life, she’d watched over him. Now she could do nothing to help either of them. And they were surely going to die.

Around them, half a dozen large, muscular males—half of them clothed, half naked, ran, shouting, drawing blades, as a second group of men descended on the circle and drew them into battle.

As steel clanged, one of the naked men disappeared suddenly in a spray of sparkling lights to be replaced by a large, maned African lion. Another lunged at one of his attackers and, in a similar spray of lights, turned into a huge wolf.

Impossible.

Thunder rolled across the sky.

A horrible stench met her nose. Fire tore down her cheek as if one of the warriors had turned his blade on her, but there was no one close.

And then suddenly there was.

She cried out in pain and shock, staring at the monster that stood . . . that hovered . . . in front of her—more hideous than anything she’d ever imagined. He was the size of a man, black hair floating around his head as if each lock were alive, gleaming in the unholy red-orange light. A black cloak hung around his indistinct body. And his face . . . his face . . . Features hung at odd angles, his flesh like melted wax, wicked fangs protruding unevenly from a slash of a mouth.

She froze with terror, her heart pounding out of her chest, as his hand . . . his claw . . . lifted, red with her blood.

Natalie Cash woke with a start, her heart pounding, her body damp with sweat. An early-dawn glow lit the window shades of her bedroom, and she blinked, trying to catch her breath from the nightmare that even now scampered back into the shadows of her mind, leaving behind only wisps of horror and fantasy—a man shifting into a wolf, a terror too awful to remember.

With unsteady hands, she raked her hair back from her face.

A hell of a way to start the day.

Xavier had been in the dream, she was almost certain, though in what capacity she had no recollection, now. Every night was the same—the nightmares that slipped away upon waking. They’d been plaguing her ever since the incident, the week of her life that had vanished a month and a half ago, leaving three of her friends dead and her brother missing.

The cops didn’t have a single lead.

Easing from the bed quietly, so as not to wake Rick, she padded to the bathroom down the hall, then to the kitchen for a cup of hazelnut coffee. Mug in hand, she let herself out through the sliding glass door onto her deck. A pleasant breeze brushed her cheek as she settled onto her favorite cushioned chair and soaked in the beauty of the woods behind her house, drenched in the light of dawn.

As the sky lightened, as the birds woke and began to sing, she sipped the fragrant brew and slowly found the equilibrium that was usually such a natural part of her. Before six weeks ago, she’d felt settled and satisfied, her life on track, everything falling into place. Her optometry practice, a year old now, was thriving—she had a full patient load, and she loved it, especially working with the kids. Her mom was thrilled that she was out of college and back in town. And she was engaged to marry Rick, her longtime boyfriend and best friend.

Everything had changed in a single day—the day two of her friends from high school suggested a day-trip to Harpers Ferry. Rick had made plans to help his dad, and since one of her friends had invited her own younger brother and his girlfriend, Christy, Natalie had brought Xavier.

Her stomach clenched with the grinding, constant yearning to go back in time and change that decision. If only she hadn’t invited him. If only they’d chosen the outlet mall in Leesburg instead.

The morning had been pleasant as they’d traipsed about the quaint, historic town. And then her memories just blanked out. A week later, she and Christy awakened in a field nearby with no memory of the time between. The bodies of three of their companions had been recovered that first afternoon. Only Xavier remained missing.

And her life had careened off the rails.

Taking a small sip of the hot brew, breathing in the hazelnut and warm coffee scents, she tipped her head back and watched the pink clouds amble slowly across the dawn sky.

Somewhere, somehow, Xavier still lived, she was sure of it. She’d awakened in that field to find a quarter-sized circle on her palm, drawn in pen. A circle with a small curve in the middle—a smiley-face without the eyes—one of her blind brother’s favorites. She felt certain Xavier had put it there, a message that he was okay. But where was he? Where had she been? And why hadn’t he come home, too?

As the weeks passed, her fear grew that she might never see him again.

She had no choice but to carry on. But that missing week haunted her. Grief at the losses she’d suffered had settled like a fist beneath her breastbone, an ache that throbbed constantly, refusing to abate.

Natalie took another sip of coffee, envying the clouds that floated free of the cares of the world.

A low sound caught her ear, and she straightened. A movement in the trees caught her eye, and her heart lifted on a thrill of pleasure as the huge wolf who’d visited her a few weeks ago, bounded into view. He was a magnificent animal, easily the size of a bear, with a thick coat—variegated black and gray—on his back and head, sable on his legs and belly. He wasn’t really a wolf, of course, though he might have some wolf blood. He was too friendly. At least, he had been the last time.