Carolina Wolf: Carolina Wolves, #1

By Sela Carsen

All it takes is a spark of Grrrrl power to set the swamp on fire! 

Debra Henry is living the meek librarian cliche, except for the teeny hint of magic in her blood. As the keeper of magical knowledge passed down from her ancestors, she's content with her quiet existence in the tiny town of Culford, South Carolina. But a monstrous attack could reveal her secret and end her life. 

Maddox Moreau was a happy lone wolf until the day he spotted pretty, bewitching Debra along the trails of the Congaree Swamp. When he saves her, his fate is bound up in hers, and they have to learn to work together in a hurry to defeat the spread of evil. 

Warning: This story contains librarian fetishes, Southern humor, smartass women and men who think that's sexy, disco music, and flatulent Boxers (the dogs, not the underwear.) Also, medieval werewolf history nerds – this one's for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mondarbre Press
• Release date: Jan 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386480761

Sela Carsen

Sela Carsen is a busy wife and mom of two teens who frequently finds her best time to write is when she ought to be sleeping. Born in Texas and raised globally, she now lives in the Midwest with her family, including her mother and their Boxer, Oliver. She's been writing since 2002 when those first words were written in the steam on the shower door. She soon found a more durable format and has been writing ever since.

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Sela Carsen

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Carolina Wolf

All it takes is a spark of Grrrrl power to set the swamp on fire!

Debra Henry is living the meek librarian cliche, except for the teeny hint of magic in her blood. As the keeper of magical knowledge passed down from her ancestors, she's content with her quiet existence in the tiny town of Culford, South Carolina. But a monstrous attack could reveal her secret and end her life.

Maddox Moreau was a happy lone wolf until the day he spotted pretty, bewitching Debra along the trails of the Congaree Swamp. When he saves her, his fate is bound up in hers, and they have to learn to work together in a hurry to defeat the spread of evil.

Warning: This story contains librarian fetishes, Southern humor, smartass women and men who think that's sexy, disco music, and flatulent Boxers (the dogs, not the underwear.) Also, medieval werewolf history nerds – this one's for you.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 Mondarbre Press

Cover design: Ravenborn

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

First edition published by Samhain Publishing, 2009.

Second edition published by Mondarbre Press, 2017.

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Prologue

THE SOFT CAROLINA NIGHT cushioned Debra Henry’s footsteps as she wandered down the lane. Just in front of her lay the Congaree Swamp. To prove it, a mosquito the size of a kitten landed on her arm and prepared to drill. She swatted it, and then grimaced at the squishy bug mess on her hand.

Yech.

A cypress tree provided a comfortable resting spot as the sun’s last rays bled a red death over the canopy of dark leaves. The silence surrounding her was the loudest thing she had ever heard, even blunted by the haze of humidity. The buzz of mosquitoes, the cicadas’ trill, the howling of a lone wolf.

Her head jerked up. The wail piercing the dusk was not a good sound. Not a comforting sound. The echo died sharply in the dense air. There are no wolves in South Carolina. There are no wolves in South Carolina.

Debra made a smart about-face and, with a swinging speed-walk, headed back to the national park's visitors’ center. Though darkness closed in behind her, she refused to break into an actual trot. At least not yet.

Great. The center was closed. No park rangers. No people with big freakin’ guns. Not that park rangers carried guns, she reasoned as she dug in her pocket for the keys to her dust-covered station wagon. Maybe they had tranquilizer darts, though.

The skin on the back of her neck crawled. Instinct from deep within crackled to life and she turned. There it was. A huge black wolf, its eyes glowing gold in the reflection of the single light outside the visitors’ center. A waft of the swamp sifted into her brain, breathing and growing, clean, dark water and the essence of primitive life. The fragrance that lived deep in her soul. He brought it all back to her.

Debra held her breath, spellbound for an eternal moment. Then it ended. The wolf faded back into the underbrush and left her standing, oddly bereft without its presence.

This was going to be an interesting place to live.

HE WATCHED HER GET into her car and drive away. He raised his head and breathed deeply, sifting her unique scent from the noxious exhaust fumes, as well as the other, more familiar smells of the night forest.

He knew that scent. He had known it all his life, although he had never before encountered it. It was the scent that sealed his fate and wrote his destiny. His mate.

The wolf loped back into the swamp and down a path he knew would lead him home. She might not yet know it, but her future was certain.

Chapter One

DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT a thing, Debra. They’re gonna love your proposal and give you all the funding you’ve ever wanted. We’ll have the best small-town library in the entire state by the time you’re done with this council meeting.

Charlene King reached out a manicured hand and fluffed Debra’s hair. With this new haircut, any man would be a fool to say no to anything you asked. She spun the chair around so Debra could look in the mirror. There you go. What do you think?

Debra stared at her reflection. Hair that she had always considered plain old brown seemed to shine with copper and amber highlights. The frizzy ends were gone, cut off to tickle the back of her neck. Her head felt strange and light, as if a weight had literally been lifted off her shoulders.

Charlene, I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful.

The other woman smiled, and then snorted. It’s about time is what it is. I can’t believe you’ve had that same boring old hairstyle since you were in high school.

It was practical. Debra shrugged. But this, this is wonderful. She got out of the chair and twirled around the empty salon. I can’t tell you how great this feels. They’d never recognize me now.

Charlene wasn’t Culford’s top stylist just because she knew how to wield a can of AquaNet. Information flowed within the walls of her beauty shop faster than she could say Google it. She never passed up an opportunity for good gossip.

"Who’s they?"

I’d say my family, but since mama’s passed on... I guess it would be just my ex-fiancé, who shall henceforth be referred to as Weasel Bastard.

Weasel Bastard. I like it, said Charlene. Is he why you’re here?

No, she said hastily, then curled in on herself a little. Well, maybe. In a roundabout way. Debra bent down to retrieve her new, completely adorable purse. Big, square, shiny turquoise vinyl with big white polka dots and long white handles. It cut into her shoulder a bit when it was heavy, but it had been too cute to pass up the last time she’d been in Charleston.

"Let’s