Rhyannon Byrd - Dark Wolf Running

Then Wyatt was taking her into his muscular arms, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning at the sudden, chaotic rush of emotion. It was such a consuming, overwhelming sensation, being held by a man again, and her breath caught with a sharp, audible gasp as he pulled her against the hardness and heat of his muscular body.

Trying to remember how to breathe, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders, the soft cotton of his shirt warm beneath her palms, and took a quick glance up at his face to find him watching her, his expression fierce…intense, and yet, somehow impossibly gentle. “I’m dizzy,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he told her, his beautiful mouth shaping the words, making them sound like something seductive and wicked.

RHYANNON BYRDis an avid longtime fan of romance and the author of more than twenty paranormal and erotic titles. She has been nominated for three RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Awards, including best Shapeshifter Romance, and her books have been translated into nine languages. After having spent years enjoying the glorious sunshine of the American South and Southwest, Rhyannon now lives in the beautiful but often chilly county of Warwickshire in England with her husband and family. For more information on Rhyannon’s books and the latest news, you can visit her website at www.rhyannonbyrd.com or find her on Facebook.

Dark Wolf

Running

Rhyannon Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This one is for the lovely Debbie Hopkins Smart. It’s not the first book I’ve dedicated to you, Debs, and it won’t be the last, because there simply aren’t enough ways to say thanks for everything that you do. You are and always will be made of awesome!!!

When offspring are born of a union between human and Lycan, the resulting creations may gain acceptance within their rightful pack only by the act of Bloodrunning: the hunting and extermination of rogue Lycans who have taken a desire for human flesh. Thus they prove not only their strength, but also their willingness to kill for those they will swear to protect to the death.

The League of Elders will predetermine the Bloodrunners’ required number of kills.

Once said number of kills are efficiently accomplished, only then may the Bloodrunner assume a place among their kin, complete with full rights and privileges.

A Dark Wolf bloodline is the purest of the Lycan race.

They are the most primal and powerful of their kind. Visceral. Predatory.

Creatures of instinct and hunger.

They are the potential for all things good and evil.

And they will forever act with furious vengeance to protect the ones they love.

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Prologue

With his sharp gaze locked on the most magnificent female he’d ever set eyes on, Wyatt Pallaton did his best to choke back the deep, aggressive growl rumbling up from his chest—and for the most part, he succeeded. But then, most was a relative term. Several of the nearby guests glanced his way at the stifled scrape of sound, their eyes narrowed with censure, warning him not to be rude. As if he didn’t already grasp the situation. He knew damn good and well that a wedding was generally considered a “no growling” affair. Even ones where the majority of those attending were a far cry from human.

Still, he didn’t want to make a scene. Sending the disgruntled werewolves, or Lycans, as they preferred to be called, a tight smile, he waited until they’d turned back around in their seats before allowing his own irritation to show.

Mindful of the occasion, Wyatt was doing his best to keep a tight rein on himself—but Christ, it wasn’t easy. Predatory hunger, visceral and thick and savage, poured through his veins like liquid fire, burning him from the inside out. His body was tense, muscles so rigid and tight he felt like a bloody volcano on the verge of eruption. Just another ground-shaking, life-altering, cataclysmic event in the making, putting the tension on fate’s bowstring until it was ready to snap. Twang. Hell, it wasn’t as if he and his fellow Runners hadn’t had enough of those “what did I do to piss off the gods?” events lobbed in their faces recently. And here he was, balancing on the edge of a meltdown. Sweet. He was about to take the “biggest jackass of the year” award. Lucky him.

With his large hands clenched into hard, straining fists in his lap, Wyatt ground his jaw and tried like hell to keep it together. But there was only so much that a man could endure. Based on the pathetic fact that he was shaking apart inside with lust and need and too many damn confusing emotions, he could only assume that he’d finally reached his limit.

After months of biding his time, waiting for the stubborn woman to acknowledge their mutual attraction and come to him, he’d had enough. Not surprising, he supposed, since as a primal, aggressive male, waiting wasn’t exactly one of his specialties. Undeniably dominant in nature, the thirty-five-year-old Bloodrunner was accustomed to going after what he wanted with single-minded intensity, not stopping until he had it—but these were unusual circumstances.

And Elise Drake was a far cry from your average female.

Considering the length of time he’d been without a woman, he’d known tonight wouldn’t be easy. He’d tried to stay calm, but the sight of Elise walking down the aisle in her bridesmaid gown, the flowing whisper of silvery-gray silk accentuating the sumptuous perfection of her figure, had damn near done him in. Now, as the sun melted into the horizon and the lavender shades of twilight darkened the sky, revealing an iridescent spattering of stars, he was forced to sit in his chair and pretend that hunger wasn’t ripping him into tiny, pathetic chunks, one excruciating piece at a time.

Exhaling a slow, ragged breath, Wyatt forced his hands to relax, flexing his fingers and rubbing his palms into the black fabric of his tuxedo trousers. The monkey suit was strangling his throat, and he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable sensation that he really was coming out of his skin.

Beside him, his Bloodrunning partner, Carla Reyes, shot him a dark look from the corner of her eye. “Stop fidgeting,” she hissed under her breath.

“When is this damn thing going to end?” he grumbled, sounding like a petulant child on the verge of a tantrum. He winced, more than a little disgusted with himself.

“What’s your problem tonight?” Carla demanded, arching one slim golden brow in his direction. “I thought you liked weddings.”

He grunted in response and tried to force an outer look of calm togetherness. Carla was right, damn it. Unlike most men, Wyatt usually did enjoy these kinds of things. He liked the social aspect of hanging out with his friends and colleagues, the way his parents had often done when he was younger and they’d lived with his mother’s family. He liked the food and the beer, the laughter and the dancing.

It was the women, though, that he’d always enjoyed the most. Like a bridesmaid banquet, there were always plenty of single ladies to choose from. He’d never been as arrogant about it as Cian Hennessey, one of his fellow Runners, but he was definitely a man who enjoyed his sexual variety.