Wolven Night 2: The Pack

By Kristin Lovelace

Kara still dreams of that fateful night with her werewolf lover, and now that the full moon has come around again, she is determined to go back to the scene of their meeting and find him. Driven by her lust, Kara finds her way through the woods, but when she arrives she is confronted by not one, but many werewolves.

The Pack is the second of Kara's adventures in the Wolven Night Chronicles.

WARNING: This 7000+ word story contains graphical sexual images and language. It is intended only for mature audiences 18+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristin Lovelace
• Release date: Aug 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311258144

Book preview

WOLVEN NIGHT 2:

THE PACK

by Kristin Lovelace

The Second Book of the Wolven Night Chronicles

This document is copyright © Kristin Lovelace, 2014.

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

WOLVEN NIGHT 2: THE PACK

The rich crimson smeared over Kara’s lips glistened in the light of the candle’s flame. She pressed and smoothed her lips together then puckered them, put down the stick and leaned back to look at herself.

She was a picture—legs bare beneath a short skirt, dark top, red lips, a wild gleam in her eye. She tilted back her head and scented deep the jasmine and sandalwood wafting in thin tendrils about the room. Opening her eyes again, she glanced at the mirror. A wicked smile revealed glistening teeth.

This night, she would become the hunter.

It seemed like she had waited so long. The nerves bubbled within her, and something more…this need, these animal urges. Her hand rose up under her skirt and stroked at the sheer silk panties. She groaned as she watched herself in the mirror, then made herself stop.

The month had passed in a rush of animal pleasure. Days were a blur. That night in the woods by Bitterman Street left her mind filled with crazy images, but it also left behind an emptiness deep within her, in a place she hadn’t known existed.

The next night she had ridden the same train home, tried two cars, and then when it pulled into her station she’d rushed out onto the platform to see if her lover was getting off the train, or maybe waiting there for her. No such luck. She waited as two more trains groaned and sparked as they pulled into the station, craning up over the heads of the commuters like a lost child seeking her parents. After a while, dejected, she headed home. Maybe he had been on the train before her—maybe he left for home earlier and it was just that once he was running a little late. She had got to the top of the escalators and one last little spark of hope died within her when he wasn’t there waiting to sweep her up into his arms.

She had been exhausted. The thrill and energy she’d had that day had fled, leaving only the exhaustion of