Bonnie Vanak - The Shadow Wolf

“What’s this?”

Fascination stole over her face as she stared at the blue-inked scrolling on his left bicep. She traced it with a finger.

“You got marked, too. Did it hurt like cousin Megan’s?”

The attention span of the young.

“It’s a tattoo, Jilly. My brother Indigo put it there for me. It means ‘fierce one’ in the Old Language of our ancestors.”

“It’s pretty. Megan’s mark is just numbers. She cried after it was done. She tried not to let us hear, but I knew she was crying.”

“Numbers? Where?”

“On the back of her neck, like female Shadow Wolves get when they turn twenty-one.”

So now they were inking all Shadows to keep track of them? His gorge rose. Wolf growled to the surface, driven by the urge to protect and defend his Megan.

His?

The notion stunned him. Megan Moraine was a Shadow Wolf who needed escorting to a safe house. Yet his emotions were that of a bonded male for his draicara.

Jillian sighed. “I guess they’ll give me one when I get older, too.”

Her practical tone sent chills through him. Gabriel took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

He started to say no.

Words died on his tongue, a promise he wanted to give her, but couldn’t. She looked so trusting, his heart twisted. Once he’d made the same promise to another child, and failed. He couldn’t promise anything to children. Not anymore.

He enlisted her help in picking up his tools. Gabriel let Jillian proudly carry the hammer and screwdriver while he took the canvas tool bag.

When they reached the guest house, Megan was sitting on a deck chair. Her legs were tucked beneath her as she combed her hair, gazing at the whitecaps crashing against the barnacle-riddled seawall.

She began to sing. The purity of her voice reminded him of sunrise over the bayou. It soothed him, brought the beast to a standstill. His entire body tingled with the desire to draw close, sit at her feet and let her voice wash over him in a cleansing flood. Music was his balm, a necessity to tame his wolf.

Then Jennifer burst out of the house, a tiny, pink-clad whirlwind waving a small conch shell. Megan held the seashell to her ear.

Gabriel stared. Not classically pretty, Megan had an exotic, Fey beauty. Her cheeks were stained pink by the rising breeze, long hair wreathing her heart-shaped face. Her mouth was cherry-red and moist. A blue T-shirt molded to firm, round breasts.

The unabashed laughter in her sea-blue eyes lured him like a sailor to a siren’s deadly song. Megan laughed, the sound pure enjoyment.

All his senses focused on her, his hands shaking with longing. He wanted a piece of that honest happiness, if only for a fleeting moment. Not the joking front he showed to disguise his real emotions. Gabriel yearned for something as simple as the joy of sharing a seashell’s whispers.

He hadn’t experienced that since … when?

Since Amelia died three years ago. When his niece died, a light of innocence in his life had winked out. His niece had adored him, and she’d known exactly what he was. And still, she wasn’t afraid of him.

Jillian set down the hammer and screwdriver and scampered up the steps. A shrill of laughter echoed through the air as she held the seashell to her ear. He felt as if he’d invaded a special and private moment between Megan and her cousins. A lead weight settled on his chest as he went to stash his tools in the shed.

The incoming storm sent a vibrating hum through his tensed body. Wolf howled to release the pent-up emotions. Gabriel glanced backward. Megan and the twins could not see him.

Sand stung his cheeks. He relished the wind slapping his face.

The hell with it. No longer able to hold back his internal storm, Gabriel shape-shifted.

Gabriel was running wild.

Megan’s heart thundered in her chest as she watched a large gray wolf race back and forth on the beach. The wolf’s raw power and dark intensity sent a chill down her spine. Larger than most, muscles rippled under the lupine’s gray fur.

He could break her spine with one lunge. She wrapped her arms around herself, sinking back into the cover of the mangroves.

She’d come to the beach to tell him about the silver-haired man blowing up the bridge in hopes he’d mention where the inflatable boats were stashed.

Megan peered around the mangroves, her palms growing cold and sweaty. What if Gabriel suddenly turned on them? She’d glimpsed his haunted look when he’d left to shutter the houses. But this wolf was not vulnerable. This wolf could tear and kill and destroy.

Never had she seen such a display, as if the wolf released all the emotions the man could not. This wolf snapped at the surf. It tipped back its head and released a long, mournful howl that echoed the cadence of the crashing surf.

The wolf was wild and dangerous.

A delicious scent of pine, leather and sweet wine drifted on the wind. It overwhelmed her senses. Megan closed her eyes, overcome with the sensuality calling to her. No wolf she had ever known emitted such an enticing scent.

The idea hit her like a resounding slap on the face. Shadows didn’t do that. From what little she knew, neither did Normals.

Ferals did.

Panic squeezed her throat. Ferals were wild and unpredictable. Their blood ran thick with the instinct to hunt, kill and mate. Male Ferals were dominating, highly sexual and aggressive. Their scents were strong and irresistible to females. When a male saw a female he wanted, the Feral Draicon pursued with ruthless determination until he had her naked and submissive beneath his powerful body. Their blood ran thick with passion and animalistic need.

Yet as she watched Gabriel, doubt laced through the fear. He’d seemed gentle and protective of the twins. Even when he was furious over the rubber duck, he’d left instead of raging at Jillian.

As wild as the wolf acted, the man acted restrained. How could Gabriel be a Feral since he was an Enforcer? The Council of Draicon executed vicious Ferals and sent others to demon prisons. As despised as Shadows were, Ferals were hated more. Their ability to blend in with the human populace was limited by their savage animal nature, often triggered by sexual arousal and heightened emotions.

Once the most dangerous Ferals were called Trans-Ferals. Long ago, they’d been hunted to extinction.

Megan felt a tug of empathy for Feral Draicon. As a Shadow, she wanted equality among all their species.

A savage beauty reflected in the wolf’s running with the wind. Her heart thundered again, echoing the cadence of distant crashing thunder. Her pulse raced with excitement.

How she longed to run wild, heedless of watchful Draicon ready to punish her for shifting into a wolf. Megan took one step forward, her body thrumming with anticipation.

The wolf skidded, his big paws digging into the wet sand. He pivoted, his huge head swerving in her direction, focused on her with a predatory look.

Wild amber eyes met hers.

The wolf was king. If he wanted, the wolf could track her scent, have her on the ground before she could escape.

Though her heart pounded hard, Megan held her position. She returned the wolf’s dominating look. She blinked, and the wolf was gone, replaced by a man wearing a white shirt and khaki shorts.

Gabriel.

Sea mist dampened his dark hair. His muscled body was hard with sexual aggression. He stalked toward her with determined purpose. Afraid of his power, she stood her ground. Megan refused to lower her gaze as other Draicon would do facing a predator.

“I can smell your fear. I told you before, I won’t hurt you,” he said softly. “How long have you been watching?”

“I just got here,” she admitted. “It was fascinating watching you as a wolf. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I saw a Draicon shift and we’re prohibited from shifting into wolves on Shadow Island.”