Wish Upon A Werewolf: Wolves of Angels Rest, #8

By Elsa Jade

It’s Christmas in Angels Rest…

Annie Belle hitchhiked to Angels Rest with one dangerous Christmas wish: to be bitten by a werewolf.

Blaze Domingo swore he’d never take a mate, and the dead of winter is the wrong season for mating. But Annie is making all of his silent wishes come true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Circle Ink
• Release date: May 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533793713

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Wolves of Angels Rest: Book 8

WISH UPON A WEREWOLF

A Mating Season Holiday Story

Elsa Jade

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Annie Belle hitchhiked to Angels Rest with one dangerous Christmas wish: to be bitten by a werewolf. Blaze Domingo swore he’d never take a mate, and the dead of winter is the wrong season for mating. But Annie is making all of his silent wishes come true...

Copyright © 2015 by Elsa Jade

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as factual. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be scanned, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

Wolves of Angels Rest

Elsa Jade

Get all the Wolves of Angels Rest

HERO

JOKER

ROGUE

WARRIOR

LOST WOLF

GHOST WOLF

CRY WOLF

FIGHTER

WISH UPON A WEREWOLF

Chapter 1

As the red lights of the truck faded into the distance, the night suddenly seemed much colder to Annie Belle.

And December in the town of Angels Rest at the heart of Where-the-Hell-Are-We, U.S.A. was already freakin’ cold.

Good thing she was here to get a real wolf-skin coat.

She trudged through the dusting of dry snow covering the gravel turnoff where her ride had dropped her. She’d had to sit through the standard if you were my granddaughter speech since Albuquerque, but she was finally here so she’d call it a win.

But when she turned to look at the empty desert, a chill wind touched the bruise on her cheek, making it throb again, and her notion of a win seemed pretty sad.

Against the background of pinprick stars, the neon sign over her head seemed too bright. Hard to believe werewolves would hang out in a grungy old roadhouse like this Gypsy’s place. Weren’t they all billionaires? No wait, that was vampires. She’d never had a chance to get into the whole book boyfriend thing, so they all sort of mixed together in her head. But she knew she didn’t want a billionaire.

She wanted a killer.

On the bar’s front porch, she braced herself on the evergreen-wrapped rail and knocked off the snow that clung to the smooth soles of her sneakers. Needed to make a good impression. She pulled forward a few strands of her blond hair to disguise the bruise. Hopefully the lighting inside would be crappy enough to hide the shadings of green and yellow under her left eye.

Maybe they’d just assume a white trash chick like her didn’t know shit about makeup. Taking a slow breath, she reached for the latch under the holly wreath and pushed open the door.

Warmth—welcome against her chilled skin and rich with the scent of hops—swirled out to wrap around her. The music was a beat behind.

"I want snow swirling in the sky,

and a fire burning in the hearth.

Gifts are underneath the tree.

And joy is in our hearts."

The chorus kicked in as she crossed the threshold.

"I want a hometown Christmas.

I want a country Christmas.

Let’s make it the merriest Christmas this year."

Annie hummed along, mostly to take the edge off her nerves.

Would they bite her as soon as she walked in? Would they pretend to be human?

She’d heard whispers about the werewolves in Angels Rest, but she didn’t know exactly how the whole thing worked.

Close the door, yelled somebody by the jukebox. You’re letting winter in behind ya.

Hastily, she pulled the door shut and forced herself to take her hand off the knob. She wanted to kick her own butt. Why was she hesitating now, after she’d come all this way?

But her heart pounded like an angry fist in her chest, making her stomach churn.

For a place allegedly infested with infernal, unnatural monsters, the inside of Gypsy’s looked like every other bar she’d ever sneaked into. Had she really thought they’d have human heads with glassy eyeballs mounted on the wall?

Well, maybe.

Seemed fair, considering humans did that to other animals. Humans were the real monsters lurking under the bed. She didn’t even want to be human anymore.

If there was anywhere on Earth she could change that, it was Angels Rest.

She glanced around the bar, cataloging the patrons: a dozen or so at round tables, a few cozied up to the jukebox and laugh-arguing over the selections, two at the pool table.

The guy lining up his shot made her hesitate.

Oh, he looked like her kind of trouble. Tall but lanky, as if he hadn’t quite finished growing into his troublesomeness. His jeans fit him like a second skin, and a snow-white T-shirt stretched taut across his shoulders. The sleeves tugged up a little to reveal matching arm-band tattoos in a tribal design she didn’t recognize. Not Native or Celtic or Norse. Something older than any of those. The ink seemed to whirl in front of her eyes like black snow. She wanted to grab on and hold tight, so she didn’t get lost in the midnight storm.

A lock of dark hair fell across his high forehead as he leaned down to eyeball his options. The beer promo light overhead, decorated with tinsel swag, cast harsh shadows under the hard edges of his cheekbones, giving him a hungry look.

What she wouldn’t give to be the focus of those shockingly pale eyes. Blue? Green? No, a churn of the two, like the ocean she’d never seen in real life or one of the most expensive pieces of jewelry in that one mall store that didn’t let people like her through the door.

A low curl of heat tightened in her belly, strangling the nervousness. She let out a soundless breath. She always felt better when she was on the prowl.