Wrath's Patience

By R.A. Pollard

Meet Greed, Lust, Gluttony, Wrath, Envy, Pride, and Sloth—the Seven Deadly Sins, molded into human form. Tasked by Hades, god of the Underworld to keep the balance between humanity and the chaos within the souls of man. Their mission, to prevent mankind from becoming mired in darkness and sin, hunting mortals whose own sins have utterly consumed them.

If left unchecked, these souls become a Blight upon the world, a cancer that has but one goal—to feed. Spreading like a virus, scouring the world bare, stripping other souls of their light. The fate of the human race rests on their shoulders.

Yet now a new danger looms, threatening to tip the scales towards darkness and ensure humanities downfall. This time the Sins cannot stand alone. They need the Seers, the once powerful women of an ancient bloodline.

First challenge? Finding these unique women, before the enemy.

Second challenge? Fighting their own nature that seeks to possess them.

Cursed: In an abyss of ceaseless rage, Satanus, Sin of Wrath, is lost to the fury within. With his memories fragmented and the beast consuming him, it’s only a matter of time before the man he was is lost forever.

Layla Thorne lives for her twin sister, Lexi, and five-year-old daughter, Annabelle. As the Seer of Beasts, all the animals of the world trust her with their lives. When her daughter is attacked by a half-crazed hellhound, Layla does the only thing a mother can—she steps between her child and the beast’s deadly fangs.

That one act shatters the curse upon the demon, pulling him back into the world and into her arms. Yet, with no name and no past, Satanus must remember who he is before it’s too late.

Michael has found the Seer and her family, and he is coming for them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.A. Pollard
• Release date: Nov 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781946337047

R.A. Pollard

Sometimes it’s hard to believe I never used to read. Gasp! Shock! Horror! Yes, I’m afraid it’s true. In school I avoided the dreaded paperback as if it were the monster under the bed, waiting to grab my ankles. Dyslexia can have that effect on most kids. Since no one diagnosed me until I was in university, I ended up in the “special” class. I know some of you now are thinking, “Uh huh”. You know exactly where I’m coming from. This meant as a child reading was the devil and I avoided books like the plague. However I actually enjoyed writing. It wasn't until I was 14, and a book called Home Before Dark, by Beverly Hastings really opened my eyes to what I had been missing. From then on you couldn't stop me reading, Stephen King, Anne Rice and Dean Koontz. Pattern developing here? Horror books were my favorites for a long time. Then paranormal romance, Lynsay Sands, Christine Freehan, Laurell K. Hamilton, and J.R Ward. You name it. I more than likely own it and have read it fifty times. That is where I acquired my passion for paranormal romance. That’s when I really started to get into my writing. While watching a show called Full Metal Alchemist – Brotherhood (It’s an Anime, and yes, I’m a nerd!), I saw a character called Greed. He stuck with me so strongly that I had to write his story. I HAD to write about the Seven Deadly Sins. From that one character—Greed—reinvented came Greed’s Charity, Book #1 of the Seven Deadly Sins series.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Rage.

Rage was all he knew—all he could see and experience. The world outside his mind was red and painful. Every touch against his fur sparked an insatiable lust for destruction and hate. He could feel it pounding in his blood like a living thing, thick and sweet, seductive in its thrall. Each burst of anger swamped the last until he could remember nothing else but the sublime feeling of it.

His large nose to the ground, he inhaled the scent of decaying pine needles and earth. Rain lingered in the air giving the forest around him a mystical hue, causing mist to hang between the trees like smoke. Not a breath of wind marred the hauntingly beautiful scene, yet he didn’t notice the beauty. His sight was set on the kill.

The doe before him was perfect, nature in all its glory, her graceful head down as she nipped gently at the grass. Her long sleek back and powerful legs gave him pause. She would be a strong one—a single kick from those dangerous hooves and he could be in for pain tonight. His mouth watered at the prospect of feeling her blood on his lips, feasting on the hot meat she would provide. She would unknowingly give him a moment’s respite from the madness that crawled through his brain.

One slow movement forward and his muscles bunched, ready for the sprint of speed. Widening the pads of his paws, they sank into the damp detritus on the forest floor leaving no sound. The world around him faded from his mind, all focus on his hunt. He could hear the hard pounding of her heartbeat. She was strong, she would be a good kill. Hunger gnawed at his insides, almost making him leave cover too quickly. His hot breath made small curls of steam rise into the gathering darkness. He held this moment, feeling the exhilaration of knowing he would soon take down this magnificent beast, that she would provide him the sustenance he needed to continue another day.

His dark fur was the perfect camouflage against the darkening forest. With his muscles coiled he waited in powerful glory. A small rustle to his left brought the doe’s head up sharply. Her dark eyes scanned the forest around her for some sign of the intruder. The beast froze, keeping himself hidden, letting the forest noise hide the excited beating of his heart. It was now or never. The deer poised on edge, her body preparing for flight. He launched himself from the cover in a burst of speed that shocked the doe into a few moments of stunned acceptance before she broke into a bounding run away from him.

That pause was all he needed—his powerful legs ate up the distance between them, the flash of her white tail a beacon. She tried valiantly to evade the hunter, her heartbeat loud as a drum to his ears. With a roar, he was in the air and then came down on her back, deadly canines clamping onto the back of her neck. The spry deer aimed a good kick to his midriff bringing a growl of pain from him.

He would not let her suffer. A sharp twist of his large head snapped her neck. He panted hard as he lowered her body to the damp floor, his teeth lodged deeply in her throat until her legs stopped their phantom run.

Hot blood coated his teeth and tongue. He lapped at it frantically, feeling the calming rush of sanity return to his mind for a few moments. Why was it only a kill that brought him a small measure of clarity? As always, he knew he was lost. He also knew he had once been more than this beast, and that he needed to be somewhere else, but he could never remember where. Then in a moment, that blissful clarity was gone as the beast’s drive for food swamped his mind, and the throat of the deer was removed in a spray of blood that covered his face in its sticky copper sweetness.

The heart still had not caught up with the doe, but as the blood pooled out onto the forest floor the final death of the magnificent animal happened. With a growl of hunger, he sank his teeth into tender flesh, pulling back and swallowing with gusto. The stomach of the great beast was never sated. He had to hunt once, maybe twice a day to keep himself from losing what little sanity remained in his mind.

As the belly of the beast became full he continued swallowing, determined to overeat—the longer he could go without hunting the better his control over the hunger became. He tore into the soft underbelly of the doe, eating heartily of the blood-rich liver and heart. He had learned early in his madness, the more he fed the less he craved, so he hunted endlessly, searching for what could sate him.

Finally done, unable to eat any more of the worthy prey, he sat back, licking the sticky blood matting the black fur down his front. Now fed he would sleep, safe from the nightmares that sparked the endless rage in his blood. Trotting off into the forest, he knew nature would ensure not a morsel of his prey would remain by morning. The inhabitants of the forest were efficient scavengers; they would pick the bones clean, and the deer would return to the earth to be born again.

The other animals of the forest gave him a wide berth. Birds called out in warning, rabbits rushed for cover, even the other predators of the forest avoided his presence. The scent of a bobcat, a black bear, and the other wolves of the forest mingled around him. Fear permeated their scents. They knew better than to face something they recognized as unnatural.

The great wolf-like creature emerged from the forest onto a rocky overhang. He had chased off the mountain lion that had made this outcropping home and claimed it for himself. Sleep would take the beast soon, then would come the memories—faces he could not remember, voices that stirred emotions so deeply they fed the wrath in his soul. He hated sleep, wished he would forget those faces and voices that called to something deep inside him, something he didn’t recognize.

He flopped down on the stone, his body soaking up the lingering warmth from the day’s sun that saturated the rock. He huffed out a large breath of air, sending steam rising from his mouth. Sleep called to him, pulling the great beast down into the abyss of his madness. Satanus, Sin of Wrath, son of Hades, sank into the nightmare, a nightmare where he did not remember being anything but the beast that had consumed his soul.

CHAPTER TWO

Layla

Thorne hugged her afghan closer to her body as the chilled wind rushed past, bringing the sound of an animal’s death to her ears. She let out a shivered breath as she scanned the night for an injured beast—they always managed to find her. Ever since she was a child the beasts of the world found her, both mythical and mortal. Her breath misted gently on the air, her back illuminated by the glow of the cabin. Inside, the soft musical tones of her twin sister, Lexi, humming gently drove away the aching silence.

The door opened and her sister moved to stand beside her. Both were tall, with the same dirty blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Though Layla would say her eyes were like azure blue seas, and her sister’s more like the sky on a stormy day. Lexi was definitely the more emotional of the pair, feeling everything at the soul level. She had no choice—her healing gift came with a painful and possibly deadly side effect. She could literally feel when people needed healing, no matter where she was.

Layla’s power, however, was quite different. She communicated with the beasts of the world. She could speak to them as if they were people before her. They trusted her, and came to her when they needed aid. Over her life, she had touched unicorns, run her hand through a black bear’s wiry fur, taken a ride on a griffin, and conversed with a nagga sea serpent.

Together, she, the tamer, and her twin sister, the healer, had saved the lives of countless animals that came to their door. Tonight would be no different, she could feel it in the air. Something was out there, something in immense pain. A deep pain called to something within her, aching to help the poor beast that seemed lost in the darkness.

The bond between the sisters meant she could feel what her sister felt, and vice-versa. Turning her head to her sister, Lexi leaned back against the wrap-around porch of their small cabin and crossed her arms over her chest. Only here in this place did Lexi truly show the woman she was inside. Around everyone else she was cold and solid as rock. No one other than Layla, their mother, and Layla’s five-year-old daughter had ever breached the stone wall that surrounded her.

I know what you are going to say, Lexi. No more strays. The running joke between them brought a small smile to Lexi’s face. She shook her head and shrugged.

I know you won’t be able to help yourself. The barn is getting full with your collection, you know, and who is the one taking care of them?

Me. Don’t act like the victim, Lex, it doesn’t suit you. You love those animals just as much as me. Don’t think I don’t see you in there giving that pegasus carrots when I’m not looking.

Her twin made a huffing noise, and the pair of them giggled low. Lexi moved to sit beside her sister and opened the blanket so they could share it. Like everything else in their lives, they were half of one whole. Together they were happy and safe, apart they always felt alone and out of place. Blond heads pressed together as the women sat in silence for a moment. Today was a tough day; today was the day their mother had died five years ago, leaving them alone with powers they needed to keep hidden from the world.

Annabelle Thorne had moved her twin daughters out here into the middle of nowhere the moment the girls began to show signs of powers far beyond those of normal mortals. The twins had been raised in the high mountains of Montana, learning from a woman who respected and loved nature. From her they knew to accept their wonderful gifts, and to use them when they could, but only if they were safe.

Safe—such a small word and used so often. Layla had believed they were all safe once, until she met Richard Tice. That man had swept into her life, swept her off her feet, and then dumped her the moment he discovered being a twenty-year-old father was not what he wanted. Most men had a spine, and would have at least stuck around to see the child born. He had run so fast from the town of Stillwater, Montana, that he left scorch marks on the dirt. He left behind a pregnant Layla, and a really pissed off twin sister who vowed she would castrate him with a spoon if she ever saw him again. Layla did not doubt for a moment her sister would do it, too.

Layla, on the other hand, accepted her fate, and gave birth to a wonderful baby girl with eyes so light blue they looked like ice, but held nothing but warmth and an ageless soul that shone from her. That was five years ago, the night her wonderful daughter had been gifted to her—the same night their mother had died trying to reach them through a snow storm.

The universe worked in balance; one thing came into your life and another had to leave. At least that was what their mother believed. Layla looked back at the door. Annabelle, named after her grandmother, slept in her small room, surrounded by warmth and love, and more than one stray bobcat that called the cabin home.

Did she go down okay?

You know she did. Even filled with enough birthday cake to sink a ship, that girl is pure angel. I swear she looks at you with eyes that have seen the universe. She has a soul much older than us, sis.

"Yeah, don’t I know it. You know what she said to me today? Make sure you make up the spare room, Mommy, we’re going to have a guest. A guest? I had to inform her that Fluffy and Buttcheek don’t count as guests."

Lexi snorted a laugh. Neither could keep a straight face when those two bobcats’ names were uttered. Annabelle had decided on their names, and there was no changing them. So it was Fluffy and Buttcheek, despite all efforts to get the child to not call the fat one Buttcheek. She stuck to her stubborn guns, and of course, got her way.

Don’t laugh, you just encourage her. Buttcheek. I still can’t get my head around it. She swears Grandma Annie sent them to her. Only our mother would send my daughter a pair of wild bobcats to protect her.

That she would. You know she always believed there was a reason for every action of the universe. Including you having Belle, even if it was with that asshole Richard.

Lex, let’s not do this again; it was almost six years ago. He gave me her, that is what I am thankful for. I learned from that, no more men. We will grow old together, and in our dotage Annabelle can look after us and the menagerie of animals I intend to have.

The groan from her sister made her chuckle. The touching moment was shattered by the cry of a wounded beast. The sound had them both standing up quickly and facing the black forest. This was not a cry of physical pain, this was emotional, soul stirringly desperate. Something terrible had driven that poor beast to roar out its fear into the night. Lexi shivered and grabbed Layla by the hand, pulling her toward the door quickly.

Let’s get inside. Whatever that is, I don’t want it anywhere near this cabin, or my family.

Layla paused and looked back into the darkness. Something made her heart thud hard in her chest and the bottom drop out of her soul. That poor animal needed help, despite her sister’s worry. She knew she would not rest until she knew why that animal cried out in human-like anguish.

CHAPTER THREE

"Mommy!

Mommy! Look what Buttcheek brought me!" The excited voice of a five-year-old filled the kitchen. Layla turned, not sure what she was expecting, but it was not the half-eaten squirrel in the hands of her young daughter.

Belle, sweetheart, please put the dead squirrel outside. It was very nice of him, but you don’t need to be touching that nasty thing. Okay? Layla shook her head. Since the two bobcats had taken up residence in the house six months ago, they regularly brought back half-eaten treats. Almost as if saying she was not feeding her daughter enough—as if to say, Look, I provided more food. She was going to have a stern talk with Buttcheek; that animal was going to drive her insane with his sarcastic comments that he could raise her kitten better then she could.

Annabelle looked down forlornly at the present she had been given, and then smiled, skipping from the room, her white blond hair flowing around her heart-shaped face. She exited the house as the cause of this morning’s disgusting smell jumped up onto the counter to proudly lick his huge paws and stare Layla down.

I have asked you not to bring that stuff into the house, you mangy cat.

The large cat tilted his head to the side, his golden eyes regarding the human before him. His spotted fur was much richer since he decided on living in the human dwelling, besides the fact it was not cold inside. They made a nice warm place, and he liked the warmth. Shaking out his fuzzy beard he yawned, stretching his dangerous-looking claws, and refraining from digging them into the wood. This place was not his to mark, he could mark outside—that point had been driven home very early. Still, the human had not found the marks behind the door to the kitten’s room.

The kitten will not survive the winter if she does not eat more. I must provide, as you clearly fail at hunting. I am a good hunter.

To Layla, his voice in her mind was like an old man speaking—warm but filled with authority. And he would brook no argument. She could swear half the time the damn cat wanted to steal her child and raise her out in the forest somewhere.

Yes, you are a good hunter, and I thank you, but not in her bed. I am running out of sheets. I can’t get the blood out. He was one frustrating feline that had taken a liking to the name Belle had given him.

You make poor food. I bring good meats. No more poor food. The large cat proceeded licking his paws and cleaning his ears, considering the conversation to be over and done.

You don’t say poor food to bacon. That perked him up. His head rose, and he eyed her with a considering look.

You may make the bacon. The bacon is good food. I will have some. With that he jumped from the counter and exited out the giant cat flap in the back door with all the royal grace of… well… a cat.

Layla shook her head, hearing Lexi trotting down the stairs, no doubt in her overly large Star Wars PJ’s. She yawned and slid onto a chair at the breakfast counter, her hair wild around her, still half asleep.

You talking to that damned beast again?

One day I am going to come downstairs and find he has brought home ‘good meat,’ and left it to bleed out all over Mother’s old rug. Layla shook her head and poured her sister a cup of steaming coffee.

Lexi groaned in abject pleasure as she picked up the vile bitter drink Layla couldn’t stand and took a huge mouthful. Lexi did love her coffee, and Layla knew she found it amusing to have her make it every morning, despite the fact it turned her green at the gills. Layla ignored her chuckling twin and sipped her herbal tea, the pair of them going through their morning ritual of staring each other down over their choice of morning beverage.

Auntie Lexi! Layla laughed into her mug as Lexi barely had enough time to put down her mug of hot coffee before she was barreled into by a small child and hugged, summarily having her lap claimed.

Morning, Butterbean. You sleep well? Lexi reached around her niece and grabbed her coffee. Both sisters had learned early on to keep the cup moving, that way the dramatic movements of the overly excitable child didn’t hone in on the stationary beverage.

No, I had that dream again. The poor dog is hurt—you and Mommy need to find him and bring him here. Then we can make him all better! Annabelle’s bright ice blue eyes met her mother’s, and for a moment they shone with ageless knowledge. Sometimes Layla wished she had a normal five-year-old, but then again, her family was hardly normal. She brushed off the shiver that rushed through her and met the concerned eyes of her twin. Yeah, Lexi had felt it, too.

"I told her as soon as the chores are done we will go find her ‘dog.’ Until then, young lady, go upstairs and get dressed. Make sure you wash your hands after touching that thing, and get your butt to the table for pancakes."

Pancakes! That was the secret password for instant movement of a small child. She literally jumped from her aunt’s lap and ran up the stairs.

She is dreaming of a hurt dog? Lexi’s voice intruded on Layla’s thoughts as she began pouring pancake batter into a simmering hot pan.

Yes, a few nights now. Says he needs us to help him. I guess our gifts are genetic. She sees so much more when she looks out that door than I do. Layla kept her back to her sister as she flipped a pancake, her mind worrying over the implications of her daughter having gifts close to theirs.

That is why I am never having a child. You think I want to subject it to this? Feeling people reaching for you with their very souls because they know you can heal them. Not happening. Besides, I don’t need anyone else. I have you and Butterbean, and that is all I will ever need.

Slipping from her seat, Lexi moved around the counter and stood behind her twin, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. Layla? What’s wrong?

Do you think I did right? Bringing her into the world without a father, into this pot of crazy? It was a fear she’d had since the day she decided to keep the small blueberry of a baby growing in her womb. Would she do right by a child living in the middle of nowhere?

You did more than right. She may have a soul older than ours, but she is the light we needed in our lives. She is strong and special—just like her mother, and her incredibly talented aunt. As for Richard, he was a dick, don’t go thinking of him. Nothing but a coward. She is better off not knowing him, and you know that too, when you are not crying over our breakfast.

Shut up. The pouty tone made Lexi grin against her sister’s back, and she gave her a squeeze before returning to her morning libation.

Layla could not stop the smile spreading on her lips. She loved her sister, and damn the woman, she always knew how to make her feel better about anything. The sound of excited pounding feet on the upper floor brought her back to the fact she would have a very hungry beast of her own downstairs in five seconds wanting pancakes not soggy with tears.

She popped the maple syrup into a pot of warming water, and turned around to lean back against the counter. Annabelle had yet to ask about her father, but given how intuitive her daughter was, it did not surprise her that the child had not asked about him. He had ended up being nothing but a sperm donor, despite all his flowery words and promises he couldn’t keep. He had run like a scared rabbit. Layla considered reaching out to him once or twice, but fear he would want visitation—or worse, get some kind of custody of her daughter—stopped her heart dead.

That asshole was not getting within five feet of her daughter, and if she had to set Lexi and the two lazy bobcats on him she would. What she regretted the most was how Lexi had hardened against any kind of relationship with anyone after what happened to her. Her sister had announced she would not be finding a man or a woman; she would live by herself if she had to, but she was not letting anyone other than family close. Well, family, and a fat bobcat that had claimed her bed the first night, and announced that when the two-leg one was gone this was his spot.

Layla smiled to herself, turning around to flip the perfectly golden puffy pancakes. Out of the pair of them she was the mother. She did the cooking and kept the house. Lexi had a very successful online business for the photography she was becoming well known for. One advantage to the wild animals of the world coming to Stillwater, Montana, was her sister got to take pictures and make art from them. Hell, even some of the mythical beasts, the ones that could be photographed, had been willing. As long as the photo was highly Photoshopped, and looked more like art and picture combined. As for Belle, she liked to help out around the house—but would rather be playing outside.

Christmas was a few weeks away. Soon they would be getting their tree from the farm in town, and the sky was already chilled and fresh with the promise of snow. It seemed to be late this year, and only a small amount had fallen. Belle had told everyone not to worry, it would snow when Jack Frost got here. With a grin, Layla took all the fixings for the pancakes to the table just as her daughter’s pounding feet came rushing down the stairs.

Belle was in her chair and waiting as Layla placed the steaming stack of fluffy mastery down. She kissed her daughter’s frizzy hair and returned to the kitchen to grab the bacon and juice. Lexi was already at the table stuffing her face with syrupy goodness. Yeah, she knew she had done good; she had a wonderful family, a beautiful daughter who shone with love and adored nature. What more could a woman ask for?

The

cold barely seeped into his thick fur overnight, but the ice covering the world outside was testament to winter breathing down on the mountains. The great wolf stood and shook out his fur. Only one nightmare last night. A being with wings stood over him, as he had done a hundred times before. His words etched into his very soul like scars, the malice and sick joy that shone from that winged man had sickened him. Wrath, right? Pitiful. Let’s give you some real wrath to experience, hmm?

That was all he could remember—those words ricocheted around in his brain. As sleep left him, hunger once again tore at his insides. The control he got from the hunt was fading more quickly. The madness was slipping over him more easily each time the sun rose. Shaking that haunting voice from his numb brain, he stretched as the sunlight started to filter into the shallow cave he had recently claimed as his own. He breathed deeply and the cold air chilled his lungs. A rare sense of peace washed over him, and for one small second he did not have to worry about anything. The world was open before him. It was a new morning, and there were new things to hunt. Hunger began to eat at his insides, and the peace was gone.

He padded softly from the cave and dropped down from the overlook onto the soft soil. The scents of damp earth and fresh dew on the leaves reached his nose. Dropping his muzzle to the forest floor he breathed in deeply. There was a weak scent of elk that passed by here a few days ago. That piqued his attention. Starting off at a jog he loped over the terrain. Animals rushed for cover as they sensed him coming. A chipmunk chattered at him angrily before rushing up a tree to safety. The great beast snorted watching the little creature hide from his presence.

The wolf paused, tilting his huge head to one side, and listened. The sound of running water reached his ears and he headed in that direction. He paused at the edge of the foliage, sniffing the air for threats before stepping out into the open and heading toward the shimmering stream. His ears flicked backward and forward, listening to the area around him. Sure he was alone, he lowered his head and began to lap at the cold water.

He remained lapping at the water until the sound of voices reached his ears through the silence. He lifted his head quickly and bolted into the brush in a second, his dark fur camouflaging him perfectly with the shadow of the bushes. But he was unable to stop the low growl from leaving his throat. How dare someone encroach upon his land? This was his territory. He rumbled low and lowered his body to the damp floor. He would watch, and he would hunt them, stop them from coming back. This was his place. His mouth watered with the prospect of the kill to come.

"Mommy,

can I get the water this time? I know I have to be careful not to touch it." Layla smiled as Annabelle trotted to keep up with her long strides. Today her daughter got to help feed and tend the animals that were there for healing. She was so excited she might get to touch the pegasus that had been staying with them for the last few days. Ever since they had left the cabin she had been repeating everything she had been told about the elusive creature, including the fact they needed to drink fresh water not touched by humans.

Okay, just be careful on the rocks. Layla handed the bucket to her daughter and watched her hair bob up and down as she sprinted toward the glittering river. She just stepped right in, not even caring about her sneakers or the icy water.

Layla shook her head and followed behind, watching carefully. She had no worry about the animals in the area—they all knew her, and knew she was a friend. But something was off this morning. Everything was too quiet. She couldn’t hear any birds, which was odd for this time in the morning. A cold breeze blew past her, and Layla narrowed her eyes, watching the tree line. She knew she could reason with any predators out there. If they happened to run into the mountain lion that tended to hang around here they would be fine, unless she was in heat.

Frowning, she turned her head and listened, reaching within her for that endless shimmering pool of power. She sent out a call to the beasts of the forest and was shocked and wary that all she got back was static. Animals were very rarely silent—totally silent. Something must have scared them away, or forced them to hunker down. Layla felt her heartbeat rising, the hairs on the back of her neck tickled, and she knew she was being watched. Turning around quickly, she swallowed hard and reached for Belle.

Come on, time to go. Now, Belle. The urgency in her voice brought the little girl up short, and she frowned at her mother.

But I don’t have the water right yet. Her low whine was silenced by her mother snapping at her.

Annabelle, now! The little girl winced slightly. Layla regretted her harsh tone immediately, but she needed her daughter out of that water, now.

Her daughter’s feet had barely touched the damp bank when a low growl sent Layla’s heart racing. She turned, focusing on a huge black wolf streaking out of the brush toward her daughter. His dangerous teeth were bared, his eyes flashed blue fire, and she knew he meant to kill. There was nothing gentle about this animal as he aimed for the prey within his sights.

Layla moved quickly, pulling Annabelle behind her and shrinking down to cover her daughter with as much of her body as she could. She thought about picking her up and running, but an animal this large would out-pace her in seconds. All she could do was throw her power at the beast and hope to break through the haze of killing rage that seemed to surround his form.

Keeping her daughter sheltered, she lifted her hand and pictured her power rushing from her like a fireball. Hell, she had been watching too many movies recently. Her nerves screamed in pain as she threw her power from her body, wincing as it slammed into the beast, ripping a roar from it.

The great wolf-like creature skidded to a halt. He shook his head, pawing at himself and stumbling. He huffed and growled low, lifting his head and locking his blue gaze on her. Despite the deadly look he gave her, she got the feeling he no longer wanted to tear into her or her daughter. She dropped her hand and picked Belle up in her arms, wincing. No doubt throwing her power out like that had done some damage to her arm. She would ask Lexi to look at it when she returned home.

Keeping her eyes locked on the huge wolf creature, she backed up slowly. The animal continued to growl low, his fur standing on end, baring his deadly fangs to her gaze. She felt Belle shaking, her daughter eerily quiet, her face buried against Layla’s neck. If she was not afraid the wolf might rip her to shreds she would scold him for scaring the living hell out of her child.

There was no way this was a real wolf. She had seen them—this mountain had a pack that roamed around, and she knew it well. This beast was something else. He had the large hunched shoulders of a wolf, with the huge black mane around his throat, long snout, and deadly piercing eyes. His fur seemed to move independently of his body, almost flowing as if it were trying to change to blend into the environment. Layla had no doubt this animal could vanish in darkness with no issues. His paws ended with huge, deadly black claws like those of a great cat, rather than something of the dog variety. For all the terror he imbued, he was magnificent, powerful, and strong, with eyes that swirled with blue. They captivated her. Lifting her hand again, she kept it out to him, palm up.

You just stay right there. We’ll get out of your way. She watched as he tilted his huge head to the side and slowly lay down on the damp floor. His eyes held way too much intelligence for her liking, and it unnerved her in a way she had never experienced before.

The animal scrutinized her like he was starving and she were a five-course meal. Every move she made he watched carefully, not moving from where he lay. Good, the beast could stay where he was as long as he didn’t get it in his head to follow her. Layla was not concerned he had not replied to her. Most of the animals could speak in some form, whether it be in images or broken words. This one was different though. She didn’t know how she knew, but she got the distinct feeling he was deciding not to answer. There was something very wrong about this animal, and it sent a shiver up her spine, increasing her level of awareness in ways that terrified her.

CHAPTER FOUR

Who

was she? What was she doing out here? How had she managed to break through the bloodlust like that? Her voice, something about her voice stroked down the rage that bubbled in his blood. It was soothing, calming, and inflaming, all at once. He knew he had been aiming for the child. It was instinct, go for the youngest, easiest to kill, better meat. But her mother had stepped between him and his prey and thrown some kind of energy toward him. He had gone from blind, red wrath to clarity the second it hit.

His fur and skin tingled from the remains of that power that had arced across his body like lightening. It had shocked into his brain, breaking the repetitive chanting to hunt and kill, interrupting that madness and giving him back his mind. It was the first time since he had opened his eyes in this form that he could truly think clearly. He knew he had not always been a beast, but he couldn’t remember anything more than that. He felt like he was supposed to be something else, something like her, with two legs and a voice.

Emotions that were almost foreign to him rushed through his brain—regret, guilt, no small amount of interest in this tall female that had shocked the living hell out of him, quite literally. He could almost taste her power on his tongue. It was sweet and potent. It called to him, summoning the man from within the beast. He felt like he was seeing sunlight for the first time