The Hunter and The Healer: A Werewolf Hunter Paranormal Romance

By Autumn Aere

She saves lives. He takes them. It would never work, but they are destined to be together.

 

Arielle Rosellini has a healing gift. When she stumbles upon a mysterious, gravely injured man in the wooded hills of northwestern Connecticut, she doesn't hesitate to heal him and get him to safety.

 

That man later reveals himself to be Dane Devron, a werewolf hunter. Dane has seen firsthand how brutal and vicious werewolves can be, and he has made it his mission to kill every last one of them. Arielle thinks Dane is delusional when he starts rambling on about werewolves, but when she is kidnapped by the very pack that attacked Dane and left him for dead in the woods, she is stunned to realize that he was telling the truth.

 

The werewolves are definitely as savage and cruel as Dane warned her they were; that is, until Arielle meets Jonah Lesine, the handsome, young alpha of the pack. Jonah shows another side of himself to Arielle, making her doubt Dane's assertions that all werewolves are dangerous and need to die.

 

Arielle begins to wonder who the true savages are; the werewolves, or the werewolf hunters. She needs to find a way to convince Dane that not all werewolves are evil, and Dane will do whatever it takes to save Arielle before history repeats itself and he loses everyone he cares about...again.

 

** Contains violence and sexual content. For mature readers only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Autumn Aere
• Release date: Jun 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513062037

Book preview

Table of Contents

The Hunter and The Healer | by Autumn Aere

Chapter 1 | Heat

Chapter 2 | Home

Chapter 3 | Healing

Chapter 4 | Scent

Chapter 5 | Hideaway

Chapter 6 | Taken

Chapter 7 | Fear

Chapter 8 | Safe

Chapter 9 | Hunt

Chapter 10 | Choice

Chapter 11 | Emptiness

Chapter 12 | Revenge

Chapter 13 | Truce

THE END

The Hunter and The Healer

by Autumn Aere

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Copyright © 2015

All Rights Reserved

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author. Book reviewers may quote brief excerpts from the book for the purpose of reviews.

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This story is utterly and completely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places or things is utterly and completely coincidental. Utterly and completely.

Chapter 1

Heat

My hands started getting hot less than a mile into my five mile hike. Since it was just after dawn on a chilly Saturday morning in October, my hands should have been cold, not hot. But I wasn't surprised in the least. It happened more often than not.

At any moment I expected a small, wounded creature to flop along the trail at my feet, perhaps a squirrel or a bird, wordlessly begging for me to help it.

But on this day, no small, wounded creature appeared. Instead, my hands kept getting hotter with every step I took. I glanced around warily, and with good reason.

My thoughts flashed back to the last time this had happened, about six months prior. On that day my hands had gotten hot too, but no small, wounded creature had appeared on the trail before me. Instead, a very large, dangerous wounded creature had limped toward me, claws and fangs on full display.

It was a cougar that had gotten one of its rear paws badly mangled, probably caught in a bear trap. Somehow it had managed to yank free but not without significant damage. Blood dribbled steadily from its wounds with every lurching step it took.

Prior to that day, I had never healed a vicious predator, and I was tempted to run. If the cougar was wounded badly enough I might be able to outrun it.

At the moment that thought entered my mind, I felt ashamed of myself. How dare I refuse to help an innocent creature just because I was afraid? Even if that creature could conceivably tear me to ribbons, it was my duty to at least try to help it. Why else would I have been given the gift of healing except to use it at every possible opportunity?

The look in the cougar's eyes also gave me pause. She wasn't in predator mode at the moment. Instead, she looked desperate. She must have been in terrible pain and shock.

My heart suddenly melted for her, like it had for every other helpless creature I had ever encountered during my lifetime. I sank to my knees on the trail, making myself look as non-threatening as possible, and waited for the cougar to take the last dozen or so steps toward me.

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, but I held my ground. The cougar let out a small whimper as she finally reached me and sank down onto her haunches a mere two feet before me. My hands were searing hot by that time, and I was eager to release the powerful energy coursing through me, danger be damned.

Hesitantly I reached my hands out, murmuring wordless sounds of comfort and compassion, and the cougar didn't move a muscle. She closed her eyes as my hands made contact with her fur, and my own eyes closed as I felt the healing energy begin to flow through my palms and fingertips.

A couple of minutes later the energy stopped and I felt her body shift toward me. I opened my eyes and saw with surprise that her face was just inches from mine, her big nose curiously sniffing my forehead and hairline. She was huge! I had never been this close to a wild cat before, and I was stunned to see just how big her head was, let alone the rest of her lean, muscled, powerful body.

She let out a low, rumbling sound that was remarkably like the purr of a domestic house cat, and then she licked my face from chin to hairline, her rough, raspy tongue practically abrading the skin from my face.

Despite the odd sensation and the unmistakable scent of death on her breath, I couldn't help the rush of giggles that escaped me. She jerked back slightly, startled by the sound, and looked me in the eyes one last time before turning away and loping back down the trail.

You're welcome, I whispered to her retreating form, feeling light and happy to see her paw completely healed, all traces of the injury gone.

Since that day I get a little nervous—okay, a lot nervous, when my hands get really hot and no small critters cross my path. I always wonder if I'm going to encounter another wounded cougar, or even a bear.

I adore all animals, but it is absolutely terrifying to come that close to wild predators, knowing what they could do to me if they really wanted to. The fact that they seemed to instinctively know that I can help them made me feel only a little bit less afraid.

On this crisp October Saturday morning, however, no animal appeared, big or small. With every step, my hands got hotter and hotter and hotter still, until the sensation was almost unbearable. My hands had never been quite this hot before, and I was starting to get worried.

Had I lived in a place like Africa, I would have expected to find a wounded elephant or rhinoceros lurking around the next bend, but I was in the wooded hills of southern New England and the largest animals in this region were bears and occasional moose.

So why were my hands practically on fire? I stopped walking and glanced around. It had gotten very quiet in the trees around me. No birds chirped, no critters scampered through the underbrush. Something was definitely going on, and I would have been able to sense that even if my hands weren't burning up.

A strange feeling in my gut seemed to be pulling me off the trail to the right, directly toward a densely wooded, shady area that was choked with tangled ground cover and big trees.

I didn't want to go in there. A feeling of dread was slowly taking over my body, but the heat in my hands and the feeling in my gut compelled me to move in that direction anyway.

Every step I took away from the relative safety of the trail made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I wanted to turn and run, but I just couldn't. I knew that someone or something desperately needed my help and I was compelled to do what I could for them.

About a dozen steps into the gloomy shade I heard a soft moan, and it definitely sounded human. Steeling my nerves against whatever horror awaited me, I began scanning the undergrowth, trying to locate the person.

Another soft moan sounded just a couple of feet to my right, and I noticed a hiking boot sticking out from beneath the tangled vines and ferns.

The heat in my hands had gotten almost unbearable, so hot that I was afraid to look at them. I half expected to see big, ugly blisters on my palms. I hurried toward the person and sank to my knees, tearing away as many plants as possible so I could get a better look.

When I finally created a little clearing around the person, I gasped in shock. It was a man and he was covered in so much blood that I couldn't make out any of his features. He must have been attacked by a very large wild animal. Nothing else could have done so much damage.

He was shirtless and his pale blue jeans were torn to shreds and soaked with blood that had already been drying for several hours. His upper body was also torn to shreds, and unfortunately it was his skin that was hanging off in ribbons rather than a tattered shirt.

A wave of nausea threatened to overtake me and I swallowed hard and closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shaky breath. He moaned again and the heat in my hands grew impossibly hotter still, and I knew I needed to touch him quickly. He had to be just moments from death.

I had never healed anyone this badly injured before, which explained the crazy intense heat in my hands. He must be in need of some major healing energy, and I honestly didn't know if it would even be enough to save him.

My hands drifted toward his torso, seemingly having a mind of their own. I was afraid to touch him because there were few spots on his body that weren't raw and torn, but I had no choice. The one thing that gave me solace was that my touch couldn't possibly hurt him any more than he was already hurt. He was so far out of it that he probably wouldn't feel anything.

When my fingertips made tentative contact with his ribcage, my hands suddenly jerked forward and stuck to him hard, as if his body was magnetic. A surge of energy then shot through me so violently that it made my body twitch and vibrate, as if I was being electrocuted.

As the energy flowed into him, the man let out a deep, guttural roar. My eyes flew open wide and my stomach clenched in fear. I worried that I was hurting him rather than helping him. But I could see already that his skin was healing before my eyes, the tears and gashes knitting back together, his body rigid and his eyes fluttering and rolling as the energy coursed through him.

Five minutes later I was spent, drained like I had never been drained before. The energy stopped flowing abruptly and I almost collapsed on top of him, catching myself at the last second by planting my hands on the damp ground on either side of him. My head was hanging down and I was panting as if I had just run a hundred-yard sprint.

This was new. Normally when I healed someone I felt light and euphoric afterwards, like the energy had benefitted me as well as them. But this time I felt like someone had pulled the plug and let my strength dribble right out of my body, soaking into the damp ground to mingle with the man's blood. Maybe just because of the sheer volume of energy I had delivered, or the incredible intensity of it, or both.

After a few minutes enough strength had returned that I was able to move and I sat back on my heels and looked at my patient. The skin on his torso, face and neck was mostly healed, leaving angry red scars where the deepest gashes had been. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and steady, as if he was sleeping.

Shakily, I reached into my jeans pocket for my phone. As powerful as that blast of energy had been, it was obviously not enough to heal him completely. He probably had some serious internal injuries and I needed to get help for him.

I dialed nine-one- and his hand suddenly shot out and gripped my wrist before I could press the last digit. For someone so grievously injured, he was remarkably strong and fast. I gasped and dropped my phone.

No cops, no hospitals. His voice was rough and gravelly, as if he had been gargling with sand.

Sir, you're badly hurt and I need to get help for you. I did as much as I could, but it won't be enough to heal you completely.

He shook his head, his short dark hair matted with dried blood. No cops, no hospitals. Just help me get out of here before they realize I'm not dead and come back to finish the job.

They? Was he attacked by more than one animal? Perhaps a family of bears or cougars? I really didn't think I wanted to know.

Sir, please. I'm not strong enough to carry you out of here by myself. I need to get help...

"No." He was emphatic about it, and I knelt there helplessly, his iron grip crushing my wrist, my heart pounding in fear.

What was I supposed to do? I doubted he could walk, and I seriously doubted that I could carry him. It was hopeless, but I knew I needed to try.

All right. First, drink a little water and then I'll try to help you up.

He greedily sucked at the water bottle I placed against his lips, and I pulled it back quickly.

Not too much at first. Go slow.

He nodded and took smaller sips when I brought the bottle to his lips again.

Thank you. His voice was less raspy this time.

Okay, let's try to move you, shall we? I pocketed my phone and slipped my arm under his back, slowly getting to my feet as I lifted him into a sitting position.

He groaned in pain and gripped my shoulder hard, making me wince and mumble, Ouch.

That's supposed to be my line. He chuckled even as he was grimacing in pain. Maybe it was a good sign that he could crack jokes at a time like this.

I crouched next to him, supporting his upper body while he got used to being vertical again. When his breathing evened out, I slowly started lifting him off the ground, pausing to let him get his feet under him. Little by little we ascended to a standing position and he swayed against me, obviously not able to support his full weight on shaky legs.

Whoa, just hold it here for a second, I breathed heavily with the exertion of supporting someone so much larger than myself. He had to be at least six feet five inches tall, towering almost a foot over my five feet six inches. He was also very heavy, his upper body quite muscled, his torso tapering down to a slim waist, narrow hips and long legs.

All right, Arielle, quit checking out the injured guy. It's been too long since you've been with a man if you're this desperate. I swallowed the chuckle that tried to escape my lips.

Thankfully unaware of my mental commentary, the man leaned heavily on me and took