Moonsong: The Wolves of Cutter's Folly, #1

By Lisa Olsen

After werewolves attack her family, Amelia Singer escapes to Cutter's Folly in search of her long lost grandmother. There she finds the strangest revelation yet - not only is she descended from a long line of shapeshifters, Amelia's firstborn is destined to lead the pack to dominion over all others. Now power hungry shifters everywhere will stop at nothing to share in that prophecy. Choosing a mate is the only way to end the violence, but how can she be expected to choose a man she's known for less than a week? At the heart of this struggle, Amelia is torn between Chase, who makes her pulse race with a single sultry glance, and Cutter, a reclusive but tempting loner with secrets of his own. Can fiercely independent Amelia find happiness with the pack, or will she rebel under the pressure and take her chances on her own?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Olsen
• Release date: Sep 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502224149

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 Lisa Olsen, all rights reserved.

Cover background licensed by Depositphotos.com/merrydolla

Man image licensed by Depositphotos.com/luminastock

Woman image licensed by Depositphotos.com/heckmannoleg

Wolf image courtesy of Vinanti

This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any other format or changed in any way, including the author’s name and title, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.  The use of any real person, company or product names are for literary effect only and used without permission.  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Visit the author’s website at http://www.lisaolsen.net

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my mom for encouraging me to dust this one off and get it published.  Thanks to Andrea and Stardust for great feedback which helped me fix the newbie novel problems, and to Randi Pandi for lightning fast beta skills.  A special thanks to my husband James, my starlit sky, for helping inspire this love story (even though I got rid of the swordfight at Disneyland).

Chapter One

West.  "Just keep driving west ’til you hit water.  I’m serious, Millie, don’t slow down for more than a pit stop ’til you get there, or they’ll find you.  And they’ll never stop coming..."

Amelia could still hear Luc’s voice, low and urgent in the darkness as he practically pulled her from bed in the dead of night.  It took everything she had to keep her concentration on the road and away from the dark memories that threatened to swallow her whole.  How long had it been?  Somehow it felt so much longer than the night before.  Millie couldn’t dwell on that, doing her best to keep her focus on the road ahead.  Despite the ache in her foot from the constant thrum of the accelerator, she’d do her damnedest to follow Luc’s advice, it was the least she could do after his sacrifice.  Her Jeep pointed resolutely west, eating up the miles as she went as fast as she dared, given her lack of sleep.

Nearly twenty hours she’d been on the road, stopping only to fill up the red Jeep and her stomach with gas station food.  The time for coffee was long past; Amelia had moved on to energy shot drinks, desperate to stay alert long enough to reach the elusive sanctuary with the grandmother she’d never met.  Though how a grandmother could keep her safe from those animals...

Her gaze darted to the rearview mirror, checking for signs of pursuit, a soft snort escaping when she realized she had no idea how to actually spot a tail, since her experience was strictly limited to old reruns of Charlie’s Angels.  Catching sight of her dark eyes in the mirror, they blinked back at her, red rimmed and puffy from crying.  Well, that was to be expected when she’d spent most of the past twenty-four hours blubbering like a little girl.  It wasn’t like she normally cried at the drop of a hat, Millie hated showing any weakness in front of others. A little surprised she even had tears left, she looked away quickly as they misted over again, focusing on the road. 

After a well meaning convenience store clerk offered to call the cops for her if she needed help, she had to take a few minutes to straighten her appearance as best she could in the dingy bathroom.  Amelia pulled fingers through wildly tangled hair that normally hung down her back in long chestnut waves.  A quick wash of the face made her pale skin less blotchy from crying, and a fevered bit of scrubbing made the spatters of blood on her shirt look more like old barbecue sauce, which they so were not. 

If it was unusual for a girl to be out on the road by herself in the middle of the night without a coat or socks, Millie tried to carry it off with deliberate casualness, thankful for the mild weather.  But her eyes – no amount of cool water or cold compresses could remove the haunted look from eyes that had seen more horrors in the past twenty-four hours than anyone had a right to bear. 

West.  She had to keep going west and find her grandmother in a place called Cutter’s Folly, that was all she could focus on for the moment.  Once she got there, well, then she’d have to worry about how to find the woman she’d never laid eyes on.  Then she could fall apart and really grieve. 

* * *

The wide open expanses of the desert gradually gave way to the mountainous, tree covered terrain once she hit California.  Tired as she was, Amelia almost missed the exit sign that led to Cutter’s Folly.  Slamming on the brakes, she guided the sturdy Jeep onto the narrow road, grateful for the deserted highway or she would’ve ended up causing an accident for sure. 

The canopy of surrounding woods instantly swallowed the moon’s pale light, the headlights straining to cut through the inky darkness.  Not at all creepy, she murmured, following the twisting road, not daring to go any faster than the posted speed limit. 

The trees grew less dense as she neared the town, and Amelia found the oppressive gloom of the forest fading.  Of course, that left plenty of room for more mundane worries.  Other than her grandmother’s first name, she had no idea whatsoever how to find the woman.  No idea what she looked like, or even if she was still alive except for the absolute certainty in her brother’s voice.  Cutter’s Folly was barely a blip on the map she’d bought at the last gas station.  How hard could it be to find a woman in a town that size?  Especially one where she’d lived all her life? 

Apparently harder than she’d thought. 

At eight p.m. most of the shops lining the main street were dark or locked up tight, as was the gas station.  Not that Tres Cruces, New Mexico had been a thriving metropolis.  At least they had their share of twenty-four hour gas stations and mini marts, and even a decent bar or two.  There were a few people out strolling on foot in Cutter’s Folly, but Millie was leery of approaching total strangers on the street to ask after her grandmother with Luc’s warning still ringing in her ears. 

As she continued to the end of the main thoroughfare, the only place that showed any signs of life was a pub called The Muddy Rudder, decorated in a fisherman’s motif.  Muted strains of The Grateful Dead punctuated by rowdy laughter drifted on the night breeze as she neared the heavy, wooden door, pulling on it with a soft groan.  The moment she stepped into the bar, conversation died as all eyes swung towards her.  Sure a girl likes to be looked at, but this is ridiculous.

Resisting the urge to scowl at the nosiest patrons, Amelia pasted on a tight smile as she made her way to the bar, hoping some of the interest would fade in a minute or two.  A thick lipped bartender shuffled over, openly gaping at her as he swabbed the bar with a rag that had seen better days.  Help you, miss?

Ah... yes, cup of coffee, please?  Amelia gave him a polite smile, noting with dismay that there were no Visa or MasterCard logos anywhere by the ancient cash register.  There went more of her precious cash.  She could only hope she’d have better luck at the local motel or she’d be sleeping in the back of her jeep. 

Coffee... he repeated, staring at her as if she’d spoken a foreign language. 

Yeah, coffee?  Anything hot really.

The bartender scratched behind his ear.  I got hot cider.  That be alright, miss? 

Hot cider.  She hadn’t had hot cider in years.  Sure, that sounds fine, she nodded, letting him off the hook, and he shuffled off to fetch her drink. 

Conversation in the bar started up again in muted tones, and though not everyone stared so much anymore, there were still an inordinate amount of glances in her direction.  Refusing to let them cow her, she stared back brazenly at anyone she caught looking.  The cider delivered a minute later, Millie savored the warmth of the mug and the spices that tickled her nose.  Closing her eyes to the outside world, she allowed herself a moment of liquid comfort.

Feeling decidedly warmer and rapidly losing her inhibitions at talking to complete strangers, Amelia decided to get down to business.  Excuse me, sir? she called out to the bartender again.  I wonder if you can help me find somebody here in town.

The bartender’s bushy brows rose a fraction as he set down the carafe.  Who are you looking for?

My grandmother, Adele.  She’s, ah... in her early sixties, I think.  Amelia frowned.  She had no idea how old the woman actually was or what she looked like.  The bartender reverted back to staring again, and she began to wonder if he was a little slow between the ears.  She had a son named Remy but he moved away before I was born...  Did I say something wrong?  The furrow across her brow deepened as the bartender backed away from her, eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder.  Now what? she muttered.

You’ll have to forgive Hugo, he doesn’t get to talk to pretty girls very often.  He’s a bit shy, a low voice offered at her ear. 

Startled by the close proximity, Amelia flinched, sloshing the hot cider onto her lap.  With a hiss, she grabbed a cocktail napkin to swab up the mess.  That’s a really good trick, sending a girl to the burn unit.  Do you get a lot of dates this way? she scowled instinctively before her eyes lifted. 

To say he was good looking would be an understatement, with his long, lean form and broad shoulders.  A dark, intense gaze came from beneath sun-streaked brown hair that almost reached his chin in a dangerous, unkempt look that probably took him the better part of an hour to cultivate.  The perfect tilt of his lips proved he was well aware of the whole package he projected, almost predatory in nature.  It didn’t matter one bit that Millie knew his type, it didn’t make her immune to the power of that smile.  She was smart enough to keep it to herself though, as she cleaned up the spilled drink. 

To be fair, most girls are drinking something cool, not hot.  So... I can’t say I’ve been disappointed in the number of tops removed at a good accidental spill, he smirked.  But I’m sorry if you were hurt.

Yeah well, I’m not stripping down to my panties, so... she lobbed back, tossing the wadded napkin onto the bar, trying not to smile back and failing miserably.  I’m alright.  The cider probably smells better than I do anyway.

For the record, I happen to think you smell delicious.  His grin turned wolfish, cementing her image of him as a predator.  Though by the look of things, it’s not your first food related casualty of the day.  He reached out to smooth his finger over the faint brown stain on the edge of her shirt, brows drawing together into a single dark line.  At least this one was without bloodshed.

How did you know it was blood?  It was her turn to stare in confusion and surprise.  Ignoring her question, he continued to focus on the stains. 

It’s not your blood is it? 

No, it’s not.  Millie dropped her gaze, not able to bring herself to offer more details to a total stranger in a bar.  The hot cider had muted her pain for a few minutes, but the sight of Luc’s blood spattered on her shirt brought it all back in vivid detail.  With an effort, she pushed it back into the private space in her heart to keep for later when she was alone. 

"Look, I can respect the whole on the make thing you’ve got going on, but it’s really not a good time for me right now, okay?  I’m looking for my grandmother.  Her name is Adele, and she lives here in Cutter’s Folly.  Do you happen to know who and where she is?"  Her voice raw with emotion, Amelia pleaded with him to drop the smarmy pick up lines for the time being and recognize that she needed help.  Thankfully, he seemed to catch on and nodded solemnly. 

I’m sorry, Amelie.  Yes, I can take you to your grandmother.  She’s... 

The door opened, and all eyes were riveted to the slight figure who stood there, commanding all with her steely gaze, carriage stiff and regal as though they were her subjects.  If the room had fallen silent at Millie’s earlier entrance, it was nothing compared to the way everyone went perfectly still, as if not wanting to draw her attention.  What was it with the town?

She’s right over there, he finished, backing away. 

My name’s not Amelie... Millie started to correct him before the door swung open again.  It was pretty damn close to her name though, and she wondered what made him call her that, but those thoughts fizzled away at the sudden appearance of her grandmother.  The old woman’s sharp gaze examined her critically, and Amelia simply stared back as the silver haired woman strode toward her. 

Pausing directly in front of her, Adele’s haughty expression broke, warmth piercing those grey eyes.  Welcome home, my dear.  She reached out to touch Amelia’s chin, turning her face first one way and then the other.  You’ve been through quite an ordeal I’ll wager, but you’re safe now.  You will always be safe in Cutter’s Folly.  Her voice rose at the last, more of a declaration to the room than a private conversation, though her gaze never left her granddaughter’s face. 

Grandmother, Millie replied uneasily, not sure whether to hug her or genuflect.  Not ever having had a grandmother around to bake cookies with, her expectations were murky to begin with, but Adele’s manner so far was just plain weird.  Her mode of speech sounded oddly formal, as if English might not be her first language, but there wasn’t much of an accent to her voice. 

Adele released the hold on her chin and beckoned to the door.  Come, it’s late, we have much to discuss, she ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. 

Just a sec, I need to pay for my drink, Millie protested, digging into her purse, but Adele waved away the concern, already leading her to the door.

It will be taken care of.

Ah... okay.  A quick look back to Hugo the bartender confirmed he didn’t seem all that worried about getting paid, so she followed along, wondering what had happened to her predatory admirer.  Not so suave now was he?  Afraid of a little old lady.

Assured that her Jeep would be retrieved, Amelia followed her to a bottle green Jaguar, sleek and posh in its lines.  A pretty blonde girl, maybe a year younger than Amelia, opened the rear doors for them with a shy smile. 

There was a moment’s hesitation before she climbed in beside the old woman, years of being told not to get into the car with strangers deeply ingrained into her psyche.  But this wasn’t a stranger, Adele was her last known blood relative.  Telling herself not to be such a baby, Amelia slid into the car with an answering smile for the blonde driver.

Once they were alone in the car, Amelia assumed her grandmother would warm up a little, maybe lose some of the starch in her spine.  But Adele remained rigidly upright in her seat, silent for the entire drive.  Uncomfortable, Millie looked for an opening to ask how she’d known to come and find her at the Muddy Rudder, or why everyone in town looked at her like some kind of Mafioso (or was it Mafiosa?), but there didn’t seem to be a good time to broach the subject.  Besides, the sooner they started talking, the sooner she’d have to tell her about what happened, and Millie wasn’t in that big of a rush to get into it.  Maybe she’d let her beg off until morning?  It wasn’t like Adele was proving to be a big fan of conversation anyway. 

Soon enough they pulled up in front of a large Victorian house, painted in muted shades of gray with a dusky purple trim.

This is your new home.  The silence broken, Adele finally turned to Amelia, patting her hand lightly as the blonde hurried to open her door. 

It’s... big, Millie blurted out, not quite sure what else to say about the manor that loomed in the darkness.  Most of the windows were black, save a single light burning in the living room.

It is indeed, more than enough room for you to join our family.  In fact, more than enough room for all of you, had only your parents heeded my advice to come home in time.  A tinge of sadness slipped into her voice.  Too late now to dwell upon what might have been.  Come along, Amelie, she instructed, leading the way into the house. 

It’s Amelia, actually, she replied automatically, jogging up the steps to keep up after the shock of what her grandmother said sank in.  Then you know about what happened to my parents and Luc?

"Oui, I was on the phone with the authorities for most of the morning.  A devastating business.  One should never outlive one’s child," Adele sighed, snapping on the lights as she led the way to the parlor. 

Did the police...  Did they figure out what happened to them?  Millie mashed her lips together, reluctant to say much about the night before, hardly sure she believed any of it herself. 

You mean do they know that your parents and my beloved Luc were torn apart by wolves?  No, the fire managed to mask their true cause of death, thank goodness for that. 

The breath left Millie’s body in a rush as she burst that bubble of anticipation.  Then how did you...? 

My sphere of influence extends beyond this valley, Amelie.  I am not without my resources.  It was only a matter of time before they came for you.  It’s unfortunate that your parents sought to shelter you by hiding you away from me as well, or I could have...

"Wait... what?  Before they came for me?" Millie blinked, not quite sure she’d heard her correctly.  Why would anyone come after her?

Yes, my dear, after you, she replied gently.  Through no fault of your own, you have been sought after since the day you were born.

"But... why?  I don’t get any of this.  Why aren’t you surprised to see me?  Why would anyone be after me and why are you so blasé about your son and family being ripped apart by wolves?"  An edge of hysteria gripped her voice, and Millie felt the sudden need to sit down, sinking onto the couch. 

Adele lowered herself into the large wingback chair before the fireplace.  It’s a long story, one that might be better served after a good night’s rest.

Sleep was all she’d been craving for the past twelve hours, but that was the farthest thing from her mind after that pronouncement.  If you think for a minute that I’ll be able to slip off to dreamland after something like that, you’re crazy.  I need some answers, and I need them now. 

Stiffening at the response, Adele’s mouth dropped into a frown of disapproval.  I’m not accustomed to being addressed in such a manner.

"I don’t give a good Goddamn what you’re used to.  In the past twenty-four hours I’ve seen my parents and my brother ripped apart by some kind of wolves and my home destroyed by fire.  I’ve driven halfway across the country without a lick of sleep, and you’re telling me this is all because of me.  So start talking now or I’m walking out of here to find my own answers."  Millie was running on fumes, but there was no way she could back down, even if the old lady tossed her out on her ear.  Chin coming up with determination, she met her gaze evenly.

For a long moment they locked gazes and Amelia began to think she really would throw her out for talking back, but then instead of blowing her stack, Adele laughed.  A rusty sound, as though she wasn’t prone to laughter at first, followed by a deep throaty chuckle.  Amelia’s brows bunched together in frustration as she rose to her feet.  I’m glad you find this so amusing.  

"Oh sit, ma chere, you just reminded me of why you’re the One.  Actually, you remind me of myself at your age, she added with another chuckle.  Very well, I will give you all the answers I have to give, and then you may decide if you will stay here with me and what protection I can offer you, or if you would prefer to take your chances out there alone."

Amelia sank onto the couch again in relief.  Okay.  Start with who they are and why they’re after me, she prompted, but Adele countered with a shake of the head.

Before I begin with who they are, I must begin with who you are.

I know who I am, Grandmother.

Do you?  Her eyes crinkled with amusement. 

Chapter Two

Do you know your family’s heritage or your own true nature?  You haven’t even been told your real name, Adele scoffed.

My name is Amelia Singer, Millie replied evenly, though she started to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

Your name is Amelie LaRoche, daughter of Remy and Marie LaRoche, and you are the One, the Mother of us All.  The dramatic proclamation was made, as if that meant something to her.

LaRoche?  Mother of us all?  What is that supposed to mean? Amelia blinked, trying to connect the dots, but there were too many still missing. 

Your parents changed your name when they took you from here in a misguided attempt to keep you safe.  Adele made no effort to disguise the bitterness of her tone.

I don’t get it, safe from what?  What’s all this ‘one mother’ stuff? Amelia’s head started to pound again.  She needed more energy drink, or she needed some sleep, and neither were available at the moment. 

"When you were born, we realized almost immediately that you met certain conditions ordained by prophecy.  The prophecy marks you as someone of great importance, highly sought out by our kind.  You are destined to be the Mother of us All.  Quite plainly, from your line will issue a new ruling class from which all packs will look to for leadership."

Our kind?  Packs, a new ruling class?  Her head swam with possibilities. 

Did you never feel special, Amelie?  That there was something... unusual about your family?

Everybody’s family has craziness built into it, mine wasn’t any crazier than most.  But she had felt a little different, from time to time.  All those unanswered questions resurfaced.  Why wasn’t she ever allowed to have any sleepovers?  Why had her parents flipped out when she appeared on a local news broadcast when her school broke ground on the new playground?  Why had Luc shown her a secret place he wanted her to go to if there was ever any trouble from the time she was six years old? 

Our way is not to embrace craziness, Amelie.  Our way is ordered, not chaos, but it can also be wild as nature intended.  Our people have been shifters since the beginning of time, the trait passed down from generation to generation.  Not by bite or curse as the movies would have you believe, but coded within our genes is the ability to change form at will.

Shifters... you mean werewolves.  The statement was given in a flat monotone.

Adele shrank in upon herself in disgust.  We abhor that term, it conjures all manner of superstitious nonsense.

Superstitious?  A laugh bubbled out.  "You’re sitting there telling me that you – that we are a race of shapeshifters, and you’re worried about being misunderstood as the creature of the week?" 

To shift into another form is the design of nature, not a product of demonic involvement, Adele said loftily.  We don’t crave human flesh or bend to the call of the moon, though we do hear her song.

The moon’s song.  It sounded awfully poetic for changing into a beast as part of her family’s heritage.  So, you’re saying what?  I’m going to be able to... to shift into some other animal?  The idea that she might not know her own body was hard to accept and starting to freak her out more than a little bit.

"No, ma chere, not all in our line are born to shift.  You would have already given some sign by now, and your parents would have told you all of this already, as they did with Luc."

Luc.  He was a...  The memory of the bloody fight pushed itself back into the forefront of her mind, the wolves snapping at one another.  Had one of them been Luc protecting her?  And Mom and Dad?

Your father and mother both had the ability to shift, it was one of the conditions of the prophecy, Adele confirmed. 

Millie sat in stunned silence, digesting that for a few moments before she found her voice again.  All the secrets and lies – had she really known any of them?  You keep mentioning this prophecy, where did it come from?  And why are people so willing to kill over it?

No one knows where the sacred stories originated, they have been passed down from generation to generation.  Not every prophecy comes true of course, but the codex that references you has been extremely accurate over the years.  I’m afraid you represent a great deal of power, as your firstborn child is destined to unite the packs and bring a new rule to our people.  There are those who would give everything they have or kill anyone in their way to attain that power, as you have learned the hard way.  That is why your father decided to secret you away from your family to keep you safe, Adele added sadly. 

Oh, Daddy, Amelia sighed, eyes tearing again as she realized all they’d sacrificed for her.  And it was all for nothing, they still tore them apart, all because of me.  Head bowed, her shoulders shook with ragged sobs as the last thread binding her composure together snapped under the stress. 

In the first show of real emotion, Adele came to sit beside her and enfolded Millie into her embrace.  "Shhh, don’t take it on so, ma chere, it was none of your doing.  Who is to say the attack would not have come had you been here as I wished?  I can’t say I agreed with Remy’s decision to take you, but I do agree with his desire to keep you safe.  That is my wish as well, to keep you safe here with us until the danger is past," she soothed.

Until the danger is past?  But Luc said they would never stop coming.  Hope flared that someday it might be over and she could get back to her normal life. 

That is true, after a fashion.  Until you are mated and have whelped your first born, you will be a prize for anyone with the power to take you.

"Mated, you mean married?  And whelped?  Eewh, does that mean with a baby?"  Her voice climbed an octave.  Amelia was nowhere near ready to settle down.  The last guy she’d dated had stolen her cellphone.  And start a family?  She wasn’t even ready to own a dog for chrissakes, let alone have a baby. 

It would be the only way to fulfill the requirements of the prophecy.

"I’m not getting married to fulfill some stupid prophecy, Grandmother, it’s... it’s barbaric!"

Another chuckle came from Adele’s throat.  "There’s no need to decide anything tonight, ma chere, you are safe on our lands for as long as you choose to be here.  And now I think perhaps it’s time you sought your bed.  The rest of the questions can wait until morning, can they not?  Amelia nodded, too worn out to argue anymore, the news of the night adding to her fatigue.  Scarlett? Adele called out, and the blonde returned with a swiftness that made Amelia believe she must’ve been hovering nearby, waiting for the call.  Please show Amelie to the rose room."

"Of course, Grandmere."  Scarlett inclined her head gracefully, waiting for Amelia to join her. 

Goodnight, Grandmother, Amelia offered awkwardly, unsure whether to embrace her or kiss her cheek.  In the end she settled