Wolf Bound: Wolf Bound, #1

By Arya Karin

Ryan Taylor had everything going for him as Rugby half-back until a werewolf bite changed everything. Now he has to keep his secret hidden from the world.

 

Jessica needs an exclusive story to lock-in her new role as a reporter. Traveling to New Zealand, she gets assigned to find out more about the elusive Ryan Taylor. Except, this bad boy would rather remain secretive. Their attraction is potent, but each kiss and every touch puts Jessica closer to danger.

 

Will their love survive the challenges they face?

 

Wolf Bound is a steamy paranormal romance shifter story. This is the first novel in the Wolf Bound series and contains content that is meant for adults. Each book in the series can be read as a stand-alone.

 

This is a previously published book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arya Karin
• Release date: Apr 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393113591

Arya Karin

Arya Karin lives in the south and writes steamy romance and action.  Besides being crazy about reading and obsessed with all things romance, she likes to dance, sing, and spend time with her family.  Want to know more about Arya? Click here to go to her website- https://authoraryakarin.blogspot.com/ Or sign up for her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/c7lTtr

Book preview

One

Jessica

Jessica jumped as a lightning bolt crackled overhead. Rain pelted her clothes and glued her hair to her face. She was certain she resembled a wet rat.

If she didn’t get this new position, she’d give up on her dream of becoming a real reporter and go back to waitressing. At least that allowed her to see daylight, rather than working in a basement all day. Still, the ions from the thunderstorm electrified the air and her heart hammered in her chest as she jogged down the sidewalk. Why did it have to rain, today of all holy days? The weatherman had promised sunny bright skies over Sydney.

Somewhere up there, God was laughing his butt off. Like usual, her luck was tarnished. Even her boyfriend had left her at her cousin’s wedding. Or, rather, she’d left him when she had walked in on him humping one of the bridesmaids she’d been sent to find for pictures. Fate hadn’t improved when she’d changed jobs either. She’d thought landing the obituary section in the paper would be her stepping stone to make her way to the top. So far, all it had done was make her co-workers shun her at meetings and parties, like she carried the plague and they’d risk ending up in her column if they got too close to her.

She juggled her briefcase and the latch clicked open, spilling her previous articles into a puddle.

You gotta be kidding me! She bent and gathered the scattered pages. Damn, one fluttered on a gust of wind into the middle of the street. A Jeep rolled over it, crushing it into a pothole.

Jessica gritted her teeth and stuffed the nearby pages into her briefcase and waited for the light to change. She slammed her briefcase closed, holding it under her arm, then scrambled across the road and snatched up the soaking paper. Great, it was her favorite freelance piece she’d written for the Sydney Morning Herald for their weekend edition. Maybe this was a sign she should go back to her cubicle job at the obituary department instead of applying for the entertainment reporter job.

She hustled up the block toward the News Corp Australian building. Inside was her potential new boss; that is, if she got the job working for The Australian newspaper.

Inside, the air conditioner hit her and her teeth chattered. After a nod to the security guard, she shuffled to the ladies’ restroom. One look in the mirror and she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. Her auburn hair was plastered to her head. All her makeup had washed away except her mascara, which was now thick lines under her gray eyes like she was trying to be an American linebacker or something. Her white blouse was completely see-through. At least her navy skirt was intact, but mud streaked down her left leg and her new pumps had scratches across the top.

Damn! She took a breath and shook her head. No way was she giving up. The fates should've made that lightning bolt strike her if they expected her to cower. She was landing this reporter job and show both her ex-boyfriends and all her co-workers that she was going to make it big.

Grabbing a wad of paper towels, she wet them in the sink, then cleaned the black lines from under her eyes and wiped the mud off her shin. Letting her blouse dry, she opened her briefcase and laid out the papers, reorganizing and tidying them up as best she could. Her cell phone dinged. Crap, five minutes until her interview. Again, her cell beeped. She checked the display. Her friend Amber. Did you get the job?

Not yet. Appt in five. She typed back.

Okay, she still looked horrible and her shirt was still trying to be in a wet T-shirt contest. She yanked another handful of paper towels out of the dispenser and ran them over her shirt. No luck, and white debris now clung to the cotton material. Great, I've made it worse.

Her cell alarm went off and she flinched. Then she switched off the reminder and tossed all the dirty towels into the trash and snatched her belongings up. She strode out the restroom with her head high.

Water dripped down her back from her hair and she scanned her badge to walk past security. At the elevator, she pushed the button to the top floor. Several people glanced her way, but she stared at the slowly climbing numbers on the lift. Finally, the doors opened and her heels clicked across the linoleum flooring to the receptionist.

Hi, I have an appointment, with Mr. Casey. She smiled at the young woman behind the desk.

Name please.

Jessica Martin.

She shuffled through an appointment book. Mr. Casey is waiting for you in conference room 28C.

Thanks. She spun and the maze of cubicles and meeting rooms grew. Um... which one? Despite working here, she'd never been on this floor except once before when she’d interviewed for the reporter position, and got stuck with the basement and obituaries.

The receptionist sighed. Down on the left, second door past the coffee bar.

Jessica nodded and hurried to follow the directions before she forgot them. Too bad they didn't make people GPS for navigationally-challenged people like her. She'd be forever lost if ever dropped in the middle of the woods.

At the conference door, she knocked twice and cracked the door open. Mr. Casey?

Come in. Mrs. Martin, I assume? The corners of his mouth twisted in a smile.

Yes. Miss, please. Sorry, I'm late. She squeezed past the door and grabbed an empty seat across from him.

He appeared different in person than in his black and white photo. His father had interviewed her when she first applied, then turned the newspaper over to his son after suffering a stroke last year. Phillip Casey was in his early thirties, with dark brown eyes the color of river rocks and dirty blond hair.

You do realize you're late. His gaze strayed down to her breasts once, then back up to her face. Rainstorm?

Yes. Heat burned her cheeks. That's the last time I trust the weatherman.

Indeed. He shifted through a folder stuffed with papers. What makes you think you're qualified for the reporter position?

I received high marks in my college classes and have been working on the first floor for almost three years.

Leaning back in his chair, he raised an eyebrow. So you deal with dead people. How does that compare with getting answers out of live people?

Just because my subjects are deceased, she squared her shoulders, doesn’t mean that I don’t deal with live people. Their family members can be quite difficult and I have to work through their grief, shock, anger and more to get a view of their loved one and present them in a positive, respectful light.

He scratched his jawline, and faint gray stubble shadowed one spot as if he had missed that area while shaving this morning. Meaning you lie?

Never. She brushed her hands down her skirt. I just focus on the beneficial and factual information whenever I can. There haven’t been any complaints filed at HR about me, have there? Or did you thoroughly check my files and background check? And hopefully, he was okay with her past of getting too drunk after her parents died when she was in college. That lasted six months until her friend Amber sobered her up and told her to get a life or her parents had wasted theirs raising her.

Touché. He set the papers aside, his sports jacket sleeve crinkling. Your marks are high, but you’ve got no real field experience.

I interviewed that retiree for the seniors’ bowling league.

That’s hardly the level of professional journalism with sports stars, celebrities—

Please. She clenched her trembling hands into fists on her lap. Give me a chance. Just one. I promise I won’t disappoint you.

What if you were faced with reporting the news or ruining someone’s reputation? Which would you chose?

I would feel sad for the person, but reporting the facts is my job. It’s what I’ve wanted to do my entire life.

And what if the person bribed you not to report all the facts?

She straightened her shoulders. I assure you, sir, my integrity is my fatal flaw.

For the next half hour, he grilled her with similar questions. She guessed he was trying to trip her up, but she was more mature than her twenty three years belied. She had taken care of her parents in high school.

She opened her briefcase and smoothed out a few papers on the table, pushing them toward him. Here’s a few more of my articles that have been accepted at various magazines. I’m not afraid of the truth. One paper was about her volunteering to cover the stories in Africa during the Ebola outbreaks. She couldn’t go back to obituary writing, and no way was she going to slosh back to the deli and beg for her old job back. It was this career bump or nothing.

Tell you what, you remind me of myself when I was in college. Full of ambition and hope. We’ve got several excellent prospective reporters we’re considering and I’ve given them each a task to show off their skills. However, I just received notice that the Hellion Rugby is hosting a Christmas fundraiser in three weeks. We’ll fly you to New Zealand. Meet with the leader of the team, Ryan Taylor, and find out if this is a push to smooth over his fighting record with opposing teams or if there’s something else going on.

So you want me to find out if it’s a stunt or he’s sincere? She’d heard of Ryan many times before. The bad boy rugby player would rather fight than play, it seemed. He’d been arrested last month for cutting a man in a bar. Before that, he’d been seen fleeing a house of a married woman. And the hot-tub pictures of him with three women and his tattooed ass had been a sensation all over the tabloids for months. Amber would totally flip. Her best friend breathed in the Rugby tournaments.

Yes. Find out whatever you can about the team, and especially Ryan. This will be one of many times that I want the truth. The ugly, raw side of it, not protecting people’s feelings. If what your findings are newsworthy, you’ll have the job. He stood and held out his hand. Do we have a deal, Miss Martin?

Two

Ryan

Sweat beaded down Ryan’s back as he concentrated on