A Wolf's Song

By Shannon Phoenix

Consigned to a life without his soulmate, who died 400 years ago and can no longer reincarnate, Hamish has lived the life of a satellite werewolf, always on the fringe of society.

A former policewoman who fled the force due to her ability to read minds, Desiree has taken refuge in the wilderness of Colorado. Now a Forester, she finds herself under attack. When a wolf kills the men attacking her, she locks him into a cage, unaware that it's a werewolf in his wolf form.

Destined to be together, Hamish and Desiree are torn apart as his past comes a'knockin'. Now Desiree must overcome his past and learn the truth of her own nature.

67,000 words. 154 pages at 6x9

Contains explicit love scenes, but is primarily plot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shannon Phoenix
• Release date: Nov 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301665914

Shannon Phoenix

Shannon always wrote stories after she learned how to read and write. She watched the characters take on their lives within her mind, and began to write down what they were doing. She would write the stories and then let them go. But a few years ago, she got caught writing those stories. You know... those stories. To her surprise, the person who found her stories loved her characters as much as Shannon did. She tentatively allowed others to read the stories, as well, and it was from that first foray into the scary world of letting others read her 'little tales' that Shannon Phoenix Books was born. Shannon lives in New Hampshire with her husband, her daughter, and their family cat. Her full time job is parenting, her part time job is as a mother's helper to a family friend, and her passion is letting the characters in her mind out on paper--or keyboard, as the case may be. Welcome to Shannon Phoenix Books. May you find the magic in your own life.

Book preview

A Wolf's Song

Smashwords Edition

by Shannon Phoenix

Copyright and copy; Nov. 18, 2012 Shannon Phoenix

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover created by Steena Holmes at The Author's Red Room. Cover model Jason Baca.

This ebook is licensed for your own private reading and enjoyment. Transferring and sharing is prohibited by law except per vendor contract or as specifically stated by the author. Thank you for respecting my hard work by buying friends who wish to read it their own copy.

Table of Contents

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

Chapter14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Epilogue

About Shannon

Excerpt of Guardian of the Abyss

Chapter 1

Hamish caught a scent, strong and sharp and dangerous. Fire. Close, too. Far too close. He had grown so weary running from the Deathwalkers that he found himself nearby some sort of human encampment. Panic closed in on him for a moment, until he remembered that he really had little to fear. It was unlikely that anyone would be out at this time of night, the smoke was likely from a wood stove. And if they were out, they would find him far stronger than any mortal wolf, though it was better he not be seen in a place wolves were no longer known to run.

Well, well, lookie what I found! said a slightly distant masculine voice, tainted with crude sexual innuendo.

I am armed. If you know what's good for you, you'll turn and walk away, came the reply from a decidedly feminine--and frightened--voice. The woman was hiding it well, though. No human would have noticed that tremor.

So are we, chickadee. And you're outnumbered, the gloating voice replied. We ain't gonna hurt ya. We jes' wanna have some fun.

Hamish looked over the ridge, slinking low on his belly. Below him was undeniably a Forestry Office Outpost squatting on its stilt-like legs, its wood stove the source of the smoke. In front of it, two men confronted the woman whose voice he'd heard. Hamish scented the breeze, which this time had cooperatively decided to be in his favor.

He didn't blame the men for their interest in her. Even the bulky clothes couldn't hide her curves and the dark auburn hair that fell down her back in a braid. It was a lovely, rich red-brown color that gleamed even in the darkness of the night.

His wolf purred like a cat, and Hamish mentally rolled his eyes. He was waiting for his soulmate to return, he didn't want anything to do with women. For the first time in four hundred years, his wolf didn't care and hungered for this unknown woman, which was foolish because this was the first time he'd ever seen her. He'd have remembered.

Hamish sniffed again. He smelled four men in total. Two hiding in the woods and two confronting the woman. All reeked of urine, body odor, and various sorts of tobacco. Hamish sighed internally. He could go away. Rapes happened all the time. It wasn't his business. He was hungry. He was on the verge of bloodlust. And of course, he wasn't supposed to be there--in any form.

Yet something in him balked decidedly at leaving her to her attackers. It went against everything he believed. It violated his personal honor system, and violated the werewolf code. Hamish crept slowly along the ridge until he was behind the first hidden attacker in the trees. It was a human big-game hunter, though-- not a Deathwalker. Deathwalkers were never this disorganized or slovenly, and their stink was that of carrion, not general filth from lack of hygiene. These were mere human poachers.

Hamish gathered himself and sprang, catching the man on the back of his leg. A mortal wolf could never have bitten through the heavy layers of trousers and snowsuit, but Hamish scored a good bite to the man's hamstring. Leaping, he was away before the man's scream had even died in his throat.

The scream was followed by two consecutive gunshots. The concussive noise knocked snow from the trees and made the hunter Hamish had just attacked start shouting, Gus? Trivet? Ah damn, I been bit!

What kind of name is 'Trivet'? Hamish asked, having shifted to his human form, despite the snow.

Petrified to find himself facing a massive, naked man who seemed to appear out of nowhere, the hunter lost control of himself. Who... what... and in his terror, the scent of urine became fresh and grew stronger as Hamish snapped at his face, shifting in mid-leap. His human form had actually been better for sneaking back up on the man, because his wolf had to hop while his human form could walk in the snow.

When the man was dead, Hamish hopped in wolf form close enough to see the odd structure that housed the Forestry Office, where he saw the woman with the gun in her hand. She was hunkered back into the dubious protection of the open bottom of the structure, trying to scan the dark forest around her. 'Brave girl', Hamish congratulated her mentally.

It was clear that she had no idea what was going on. She was scared; her fear floated on the breeze as clearly as the hunter's cowardice had done a moment before... yet she had taken down the first two attackers before they could even get a shot off, utilizing the distraction from his attack.

He'd taken down the third man hiding in the woods, but had to find the fourth.

I know you're out there. I need to know that you're leaving, that you understand the danger you've put yourself in here, she called out. As bluffs went, it was a good one. She was smart, too, because getting him to talk would give her a sense of his location. Brilliant, really.

The fourth shouted something crude and obviously uncooperative. He followed that up with, You just signed your death warrant, and called the woman several choice names.

She moved further back under the towering structure that combined both housing and an office at the top of it, but it was scant protection there on the lowest levels. It was essentially a tower built on stilts so that snow could pile up under it and not prevent its inhabitants from reaching the top. It also had an observatory, so it was tall and had very little in the way of structure for the bottom.

Hamish stalked around the clearing, finally locating his quarry. He was tired, so very tired. And he couldn't remember having been as hungry as he was for a long time. He hadn't eaten for what would be two days now, and his metabolism required multiple meals per day.

He hoped he had the strength left to lend her what help he could.

A shot rang out, a barking roar that streaked bright yellow from a tree not far from his position. Bingo! He had a lock on the fourth hunter. But when he heard the woman's breathing turn to rasping groans, he feared he might be too late.

He shifted then, back to human. It wasn't as stealthy from a distance, but these 'hunters' didn't seem to notice anything around them. It was easier for him to move around, and quieter in deep snow like this. It was long moments before he was behind the man. Coming up right under him, he reached up into the tree and jerked him down hard.

This one had better reflexes than the first one. He swung the gun, getting a shot off before Hamish could jerk it from his hand. Hamish's half-shifted jaws ended the man's life, but the cost had been high. Blood trickled down his shoulder, and Hamish felt the invading weakness as he finished shifting. Throwing his head back, he howled his victory for all the world to hear... thin and meaningless as it ultimately was.

Then the world was darkness and he knew no more.

Chapter 2

Desiree patted the soft fur of the wolf. He had saved her, though she doubted he realized it or would care if he did. He showed no signs of being rabid, but he had attacked two of the four hunters. She'd come out to be sure that they were all dead, and found him collapsed beside the second of his victims. He had bled for a long time before she'd garnered the courage to venture out.

He was probably rabid, because it was excessively bold for a lone wolf to attack humans, which was really the least of her concerns, since she could bind him and put him into a cage. She was more concerned by the fact that he shouldn't even be there. Of course, there were always rumors of wolves in Colorado. And traces had been found, from wolf tracks to scat. Yet here was proof--unfortunate proof--that should be reported. Wolves were game changers for any habitat; literally and figuratively.

She couldn't bring herself to do what she should. She couldn't kill this beautiful creature. He was probably rabid; he likely carried vermin. He was unnaturally big for a wolf. He didn't belong here. All of these possibilities and likelihoods and facts meant she should put him down, here and now.

But he tugged at her heartstrings, lying there defenseless in a pool of blood.

She had a cage inside that would fit him. The previous Forester had kept a German shepherd with him at all times. He hadn't taken the cage when he'd quit in a rage, leaving the job open for her. So far, she hadn't bothered to lug the thing out. And now she had a use for it.

She picked him up after binding his legs and muzzle and staggered back to the Outpost. Carrying him, she made her way up the stairs around the outside of the building, doing her best not to joggle him too much. She finally got to the top, and laid him down on her table. It would have to do for the operation. She had no surgical tools. No real training. Only some basic human first aid training and a knife. But she did know that if the bullet was in his shoulder, it had to come out. If it had struck an artery, he was dead either way.

First, though, she tied him down. Then, taking a deep breath, she began to cut and then shave the hair from around the wound, using a razor she kept for her legs. Embarrassing somehow, but necessary, since his fur was long and thick.

* * * *

Hamish lay still and in terrible pain on the table, petrified of what the woman was going to do to him while he was helpless. The bindings held against his struggles because the blood loss and exhaustion had weakened him so much. Why would she even bring a wild animal into her abode, however temporary it might be? What did she plan to do to him, he wondered?

It wasn't long before he found out. Pain shrieked through him as she began to poke and prod at his shoulder. It was all he could do to keep his eyes closed and pretend he still slept. But at last, she seemed to locate the bullet, and she returned with the hunting knife fresh from the fire.

Hamish's teeth nearly locked up at the agony that screamed through him as she dug the bullet out. Mercifully, darkness claimed him again before he could shame himself.

* * * *

Desiree could tell the wolf felt what she was doing. His eyes rolled around in his head and she whispered apologies to him as tears ran down her face. She desperately wished for some sort of anesthetic, but she had nothing. The knife did its job, though, stopping the bleeding from the wound and bringing the bullet to the surface. She grabbed it, burning herself on the knife as she did so.

When she was finished, she carefully removed his bindings, though she left the one on his muzzle. She pushed him into the cage with a great deal of difficulty, and quickly shut the door. She reached through to cut the remaining binding and then stepped away as if he were awake already.

She'd heard his thoughts very vaguely, more human than wolfish. He'd tried extremely hard not to let her know he was awake, his suspicion turning to acceptance and, oddly; compassion for her. There was relief in the knowledge that he wasn't rabid at least. She wished she could hear animals better when she was awake, but his thoughts faded in and out and she was unable to hold the thread of any of them.

Yet she still felt he was dangerous. If nothing else, in the fact that he was so unusually canny and intelligent for a canine. For any animal, really. On closer examination, he was clearly domesticated, she decided. She was relieved not to have killed him. Someone cared well for this beautiful animal.

She went in to have a shower, dismissing the wolf from her mind as she cleaned the blood from her body. Leaning against the shower, she struggled against the misery of having killed people. Even in self-defense, it was heartbreaking to her. It was part of why she left law enforcement and went instead into Forestry. Then there was the fact that reading the minds of criminals hadn't been as helpful as she'd thought. Knowing the truth didn't mean you could get them to say it out loud. And some minds were simply a horrifying place to be.

When she came back out of the bathroom, she looked over to find the wolf watching her, his head low, his eyes boring into her. He stood stock still, just watching. She talked to him quietly, her voice low and--hopefully--soothing.

You were in pretty bad shape, buddy. I don't know why you attacked those men, but you came along at just the right time for me. She chattered on at him as she prepared herself a meal. When the soup was ready, she sat down at the table, growing quiet as she ate.

Whimpering caught her attention. She turned to look at him as he whined and snuffled at the cage. The poor fellow was hungry, she realized after a few minutes. But how was she to feed him? She wasn't going to get too close to that cage. Wolves were unpredictable even when domesticated, that much was common knowledge.

Finally, she came up with a plan. She took a bowl that would fit between the bars. Carefully, she shoved it into the cage, watching him sitting at the back of the cage and watching her intently. Then she took the rubber mat that sat under the dish drainer. Curling it into a U shape, she pushed it between the bars and tilted it down. She poured the remainder of the soup into the top and it cascaded down the mat, pooling in the bowl inside the cage.

The wolf sat and watched her until she had withdrawn the mat and scooted back away from the cage. Casually, he got up and began to eat.

His eyes never left her face the whole time. She began to clean up the remainder of dishes before turning to look at him again. His eyes were closed and his chest heaved in and out like a bellows. She hoped he would be okay, and pondered what to do about him as he apparently slept.

Exhausted, she laid down on her bed and stared at the bunk above. Deep regret flowed through her at the loss of life at her hands. She rolled over to look at the wolf. How simple it must be to kill and feel nothing. To face a threat to your life without regret at having to end another in order to extend your own.

The wolf lay still aside from the movement of his breath that told her he still lived. She wondered where he'd come from. With her mind off of the bodies freezing in her 'yard', she found herself beginning to slip into that twilight between real sleep and wakefulness.

What am I going to do? came the question into her mind from the wolf's. She was better able to hear the thoughts of animals when nearly asleep, though she nearly started back to wakefulness as she realized that this one thought not in images or impressions as all others did, but in English.

Rest, she answered him.

I'm running out of time, I should be finding a way out of this cage. His mental voice was deep and warm.

You're badly injured. Rest is the only thing that can help you.

This time, the answer came in the expected manner in which animals thought. Stark hunger, mingled with dread.

What are you afraid of?

Who are you? He ignored the question to ask his own.

Desiree. Who are you?

How is it that you're speaking to me this way, Desiree? And where are you? he asked, his tone tinged with deep concern.

I'm almost asleep in my bunk. When I'm almost asleep but not quite there, I can hear the animals. Do you hear them outside? They are still unsettled and afraid.

Let me out of this cage, woman! His voice was now sharp, hard, demanding. You are in danger. You don't understand what you're doing.

I'm not letting you out. You killed two people.

You killed two people, too. I killed them to protect you. You would turn me in, but expect not to pay any price yourself? His voice was silken outrage.

I'm a human. They were attacking me. It was self-defense. An animal attack--

Double standard. They will kill me, and you know it very well. No matter that I was protecting you.

She lost the thread of the conversation then and drifted to sleep.

* * * *

Hamish jolted to full wakefulness, swearing internally. He had been, like her, in the place between sleep and waking, where all things were possible--or at least imaginable. The time of lucid dreaming... or telepathy. He rose and paced the two steps the cage allowed him, twisting and turning in rage and fear. He would have unprecedented strength during the full moon, and she refused to release him. His mind would be that of a supernatural creature hell-bent upon destruction and murder.

He snarled and bit at the cage, jerking and pulling and twisting. It had no give at all, even to his enhanced strength. She had bought this cage at a high cost, it would seem, because its quality was top-notch if it was strong enough to hold him.

At length, he gave up in despair. Sinking to the floor, he knew he would have to wait a few hours until the weakened shoulder had healed some. He would try again then, and should be able to break the bars after resting. But he was so terribly hungry that he feared what might happen if she even got near the cage. The healing was putting huge stress and demand on his body, and the bone that had been carved by the bullet ached abominably.

Time was running out, and he had no way to help himself but hang on and hope that he would regain enough strength to overcome his prison. If he did not, he would unquestionably regain it upon waking as the true moon-wolf. By then, it would be far, far too late for the woman sleeping on her bunk.

He sighed, curling up and trying to sleep through the hunger and the pain.

Chapter 3

Dawn came, and with it came a shared sense of general malaise and a hunger so strong that