Lost in Wolf Dreams: Cormac's Pack, #1

By A.P. Jensen

Jillian Marks can't remember the last four weeks of her life. She's being stalked by a wolf shifter named Mac who claims they're in a relationship, yet she has no memory of him. Mac knows a lot about her, most importantly that she's half wolf. 

Jillian discovers that the life she had is gone and that someone is on the hunt for her. With Mac's help, Jillian will discover what her memories have concealed from her and why.

This is the first installment in a paranormal romance series with shifters. For adults only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.P. Jensen
• Release date: May 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513039251

A.P. Jensen

A. P. Jensen was born and raised in Kamuela, a small town on the Big Island of Hawaii. She spent several years on the mainland (Las Vegas and Austin) before coming home in November 2012 to pursue her writing career. A. P. Jensen loves to read, write, travel, watch movies, listen to old timer's talk about the good old days and daydream. She has two dogs, Ali'i and Maile who are world travelers and tolerate the long hours she spends in front of the computer. A. P. Jensen writes in three different genres: YA Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and Contemporary Romance.

Book preview

1

Jillian tilted her head up to the sun and basked in the rays. She smiled sleepily and listened to the cacophony of sound from New York City traffic and pedestrians. Something niggled at the back of her mind, but she was too comfortable to care. She sipped coffee, stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles. She watched people walk, jog or bike by. She couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed… ever.

Her shoe slipped off her foot. Jillian looked down and frowned when she saw baby blue stilettos that were a size too big. She would never buy a shoe in this color, much less wear it since it was the wrong size. She preferred neutrals and favored black most of the time since it went with everything. She looked down at her clothes and sat straight up in the chair. She wore a matching baby blue dress with a fluffed skirt like a costume from Alice in Wonderland. She ran a hand over the material to make sure this wasn’t some bizarre dream. What the hell?

She got to her feet, tripped and looked up and down the sidewalk for an explanation. Was she being Punk’d? Did her business suit get destroyed somehow and someone let her borrow her this… thing? She looked down at herself again and blanched. This had to be some kind of joke. She sniffed her coffee, but didn’t smell liquor. She continued to scan her surroundings and looked across the street.

Through the passing traffic, she saw a man standing on the sidewalk directly across from her. He caught her attention because he was the only person who wasn’t in a mad rush to get somewhere and he was so large. He wore jeans, a navy-blue shirt and large aviator sunglasses. He had a square jaw and something about him made her take a wary step back. When he made no move, but continued to look in her direction, she told herself that he was probably staring at someone behind her in the cafe.

Even as she braced herself to look away, he stepped forward. Tires screeched and taxis honked. She watched the stranger make his way through six lanes of traffic. He didn’t look right or left. He never looked away from her. As he closed the distance between them, she could practically feel his intent. She didn’t wait to see what that was. Jillian hobbled down the sidewalk in oversized shoes and curled her toes to hold onto the ugly stilettos. She thanked her lucky stars that she was used to heels. She dodged around other pedestrians who snickered as she passed. Jillian shot several of them nasty looks as she limp-ran five blocks.

When she couldn’t go any further, she looked around and didn’t see any sign of the crazy, suicidal hunk. Feeling foolish and a little unnerved, she slipped off the sidewalk into a dead-end alley to catch her breath. She looked down at herself and raked her mind for an explanation. Her head throbbed and she instantly regretted leaving her coffee behind. Was that her first cup of the day? Maybe she could go back and—

A huge figure moved off the sidewalk and into the alley with her. Jillian shrieked and scrambled backwards as the man with aviator glasses stalked her. Up close, he was larger than life. He was over six feet tall and well-muscled—not overtly so, but enough to make her realize she didn’t want to be alone in this alley with him. He didn’t say a thing as he advanced on her. She came up against a solid brick wall and when he still showed no signs of stopping, she ran feverish hands over the fluffy skirt, praying it concealed pepper spray, nun chucks or a gun. No luck. He tipped up his glasses and her breath whooshed out of her. His eyes were a stunning silver in his otherwise dark features. He had tanned skin like a Latino and black hair too long to be labeled clean cut.

Hold it! Jillian yelled.

No impact whatsoever. As he came within striking distance, she raised her skirt and kicked. The stranger took it without pause. When she swung with all her might, he caught her fist almost casually. He gripped both of her hands and pinned them over her head. Even as she opened her mouth to scream for help, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Jillian jerked back so fast, she nearly knocked herself senseless when she hit the brick wall behind her. She tried to knee him in the crotch, but the damn skirt hindered her. He yanked her up so she couldn’t cause any damage, which put them at eye level. He cupped her chin and those eerie eyes moved over every inch of her face hungrily, making her stomach dip.

Why did you run from me? he demanded.

I don’t wait around for muggers and rapists! Jillian screamed. Let go of me! Get off me!

Where have you been?

I don’t know you! Jillian gasped as she struggled.

He was like an army tank in front of her, immovable and unaffected by her attempts to get away from him. He gave her a sharp shake, which shocked her into looking at him. He was so furious, it made her stare at him, astonished. What the hell had she done to make him so angry? Maybe he really didn’t like older women dressed in costume… Or maybe he was just plain crazy.

Why did you come back to the city? You know it isn’t safe for you here.

Jillian bared her teeth. I’ve lived in New York my whole life, buddy, and until you, I’ve never been mugged.

He frowned. What the hell are you talking about?

"What are you talking about? I don’t know you!"

His hand collared her throat and she stiffened. It was a threatening hold and it made her heart pound in alarm. She bucked between him and the wall and couldn’t figure out which was more unyielding.

What do you mean, you don't know who I am?

I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! she screamed and tried to bite him.

He grabbed her jaw and turned her head to the side. He leaned close and inhaled. She couldn’t figure out if he was crazy, mistook her for someone else or was an angry perfume salesman offended that she wasn’t wearing his scent.

He pulled back. I’ve been looking for you for a week.

"What do you want with me? I’ve never met you!"

You really don’t know me? This isn’t some sick joke?

She enunciated since he was clearly insane. I. Do. Not. Know. Who. The. Fuck. You. Are. Capisce?

He stared at her for a long minute, as if trying to decipher if she was playing dumb. When she stared at him like the psycho he was, a growl started low in his chest. Plastered against him, she felt as if she was in the middle of a mini earthquake. Her eyes widened because she finally realized why her instincts were going off like a grandfather clock.

You’re a wolf, she whispered.

And so are you.

She started. Says who?

I know a lot about you, Jillian.

How?

He eased back to give her breathing room. We’ve been together for a month.

She slid down the wall and even as her feet touched solid ground she asked, "What do you mean together?"

He didn’t answer. He brushed her hair back from her face in a gesture she found unsettling in a stranger. He must have her mixed up with someone else because she wouldn’t forget meeting a wolf, much less a guy who looked like him. As for his together comment—that was impossible. He wasn’t her type! She didn’t like big, hot, macho men.

I think there’s some kind of mistake, she began, trying to sidle away from him.

Two big hands planted on either side of her head, caging her. That gorgeous, scary face came within an inch of hers and she stopped breathing.

What’s the last thing you remember? he asked.

What kind of question is that? He thought she couldn’t remember— Her mind went completely blank. Her heart rate sped up. She always kept a schedule, but right now she couldn’t remember a damn thing. There had to be something! She didn’t remember walking to the cafe or ordering the coffee she’d been drinking and… She ran a hand over the costume she wore and wriggled toes in shoes that weren’t her own.

I was at the cafe and— She wrung her hands.

Do you know where you live? What did you do this morning?

Her head throbbed painfully and she swayed. I live on W 12 Street. I can’t remember what I did this morning. All I remember is sitting in front of the cafe.

People had moments like this, right? There were a handful of times when she woke in the morning and didn’t know what day it was, so maybe she was having the biggest brain fart of her life… Her stomach roiled and her breath came in fast pants. Large hands settled on her shoulders and cupped the back of her neck in a gesture so intimate that she shoved against his chest. Her rejection of his touch didn’t bother him at all. He continued to stand way too close and handle her as if he had every right to.

It’s going to be okay, baby. I’m here now, he said, his earlier anger gone.

That wasn’t reassuring. Who are you?

Mac.

Mac? What kind of name was that? She focused on him instead of the panic that wanted to send her into hysterics. "What do you mean by together?"

We’ve been living together for a month.

Living together?

There was something very wrong here. Either he was crazy or she was and she’d never been accused of that before. She never lived with a man in her life—much less a wolf. She never slept with a guy until they went on at least five dates and this wolf—she would never go on a date with him. She didn’t like bad boys and this guy had danger and heartbreaker written all over him. He looked like he could eat her ex-boyfriends for breakfast. She liked her men well-mannered, refined and polite. Even at a glance, she knew Mac wasn’t that guy. Wasn’t she dating some banker? She couldn’t remember his name or face and it was making her nuts. Maybe if she asked her mom—Her head exploded with pain and she began to shake.

Mac picked her up in his arms. At first, she struggled because she had a sneaking suspicion that the crazy bastard would stuff her into a van—that was, until Mac stepped onto the sidewalk, unconcerned with anyone’s interference. She opened her mouth to scream, but the worst migraine of her life scrambled her thoughts. She felt as if someone was stabbing her in the head. She couldn’t think or focus. She felt the ugly stilettos fall off her feet at some point, but was in too much pain to care.

New York women stopped dead in their tracks and glared enviously at Jillian who lay like a limp, quivering baby in the arms of Mr. Universe. Several brave souls asked Mac if Jillian was okay, but he didn’t reply. She started to ask for help, but Mac put his hand over her mouth and continued walking. At some point, he entered a building and she tried to get out of his arms, but shook too badly to do much more than thump his shoulder without much force. Soothing air conditioning washed over her and she heard the jingle of keys. A door opened and closed and then Mac lowered her onto a comfortable sofa. Jillian opened her eyes and realized they were in her apartment. Her eyes flicked to the key in Mac’s hands. When she tried to get to her feet, Mac pushed her back down. She stared at him, open mouthed.

Just relax, he said.

Don’t tell me what to do.

She tried to rise and was treated to that same gentle, but firm push back onto the sofa that told her she wasn’t going anywhere. She stared at the brute who was telling her what to do in her apartment. She listened for the sound of her mom’s voice, but there was only empty silence. Fear cascaded through her.

Mom!

There was no sweet voice and no sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Jillian surged off the couch and knocked Mac’s hand away so hard that she managed to get past. She raced down the hallway and stopped in the doorway to her mom’s bedroom. The bed was made and all of her mom’s possessions were in place, but the room felt so empty. She opened the closet and drawers. Nothing was disturbed, but something was very wrong here. She ran to her bedroom, which was organized and untouched. She spun in a circle, trying to figure out why the wolf inside of her let out a mournful howl. Bolts of pain knifed through her head. She ran back to the living room where Mac waited with his arms folded over his chest.

Where’s my mom? she asked in a voice that shook.

For a moment, she wasn’t sure he would answer, but then he said, Your mom passed.

Passed? Jillian shook her head. Passed where? There had to be another definition to that word because she wouldn’t accept it.

She’s gone.

Jillian waited for the punch line, but nothing happened. Mac’s expression didn’t change. A strange buzzing silence filled her ears.

There was a burglary.

Her hands clenched at her sides. You’re lying! Where did you put her?

The wolf within Jillian clawed to get free. It ravaged her insides so brutally, she hunched over and wrapped her arms around herself. Mac took a step forward and she released a snarl that would have shocked her, but she was beyond rational thought at the moment. Maybe her mom went to the store and this asshole was getting his kicks off by scaring her. There had to be an explanation and she wouldn’t accept that her mom passed.

Four weeks ago, two wolves broke into your apartment and your mom was killed.

Her body iced over with shock and her head began to ring like a gong. She straightened and took a step towards Mac. His voice turned coaxing as he spoke to her, but she couldn’t hear anything over her pounding heart. She held herself so rigid, she trembled. She raised a hand and pointed to the door.

I want you out.

He held his hands up in the national gesture for peace. I’m not lying, Jillian. We’ve been through this before. It’s been four weeks since she—

Get out! Jillian screamed.

She wanted to attack him for telling such a whopping lie. She latched onto denial because it kept her sane. He couldn’t be telling the truth, but… something brushed against her memory. Even as she tried to grasp it, it slipped away like smoke. Why