5: Hood - Pack Trust
Published by Mojocastle Press, LLC
Price, Utah
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
5: Hood
Pack Trust
ISBN: 1-60180-051-7
Copyright
ã
2008
Carys Weldon
Cover Art Copyright @ 2008
Scott Carpenter
All rights reserved.
Excluding legitimate review sites and review publications, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Also By Carys Weldon
The Pack Series
Dedication:
5: Hood
Pack Trust
Introduction
By Hood
Family is everything. We all know that, but taking care of business? That’s more important than anything, because, you do that wrong, everybody that depends on you dies. Yeah, I’m under a little pressure.
I fully believe in that line from The Godfather: ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’.
Nothing’s simple any more. The older I get, the more power I gain, the harder it is to see black and white. Everything’s a shadow. Everybody’s a suspect. I’m just trying to find out who’s on my team, and who isn’t.
Worse, I can’t say I’m getting more control with age. I’m pretty sure I’m about to lose it. I mean, a man can’t do it all alone. Eventually he’s gonna have to trust somebody, right? And that’s when he gets it. Everybody knows that.
Prologue
Just inside the door of his campus home, to the tune of jazz music coming from the bedroom down the hall, young Professor Burkett rested his hands easily on Giselle Racini’s waist as he kissed her. Swaying with the rhythm, rubbing himself against her, hoping to coax her into staying, he had to nudge his cat from between their legs.
They hadn’t been out of bed long, and Giselle already had her coat on. Pulling her long, dark hair out from under the collar, she pushed him away with a smile. “It’s late. I need to go. I swear, you’d keep me all night.”
He’d already tried every manner of persuasion he could think of, given her every sexual favor in his arsenal of talents, but he still wanted her company.
The clock rang one.
“Stay with me.” Ardently in love with his brightest student, he insisted for the umpteenth time, “Marry me, Giselle.”
She reached up, cupped his cheek and said, “I couldn’t stand to be a professor’s wife and live in this town forever.”
Sick at heart, he said, “I know I’m not exciting enough for you, but--”
Giselle cut him off with a peck. “Just enjoy it while it lasts, Brett. What we have is good. Don’t try and put more between us than we can stand.”
He admitted, “I have never made love with a woman like you before.”
That made her chuckle.
“You could make money at it.”
“Oh. There’s a compliment.” She tugged on the door.
Impeding her departure by insinuating himself between her and the door, he said with fervor, “I love you. Don’t leave me.”
“If you loved me, you’d let me go.”
“Let me walk you home.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice.
“I’m not a schoolgirl, Brett. I can manage a walk through the University Park in the dark. It’s not that far.”
“Still.”
Going up on tiptoe, she kissed his lips quickly, one more time. “Still. You stay. I’ll be fine.”
But she wasn’t fine. The minute she stepped out the door, she felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t the first time, but Giselle chalked that up to a growing paranoia--brought on by her illicit affair with the good professor, a man she truly loved, but wasn’t in love with.
Every step away from him, she questioned their relationship. Brett Burkett was handsome, intelligent, steady. Why wasn’t he enough for her?
She wanted him to be enough. She had tried a million times to convince herself that he was, but every time he pressed the marriage issue, she’d run away. Being honest with herself, and him, too, she’d admitted that he wasn’t enough of a challenge.
Memory of his tenderness in bed, the sweet respect he always gave her had her smiling, forgetting her unease. That part was just too sweet. She liked reliving the sensation of his hands sliding over her skin and the way he laid his head on her bosom while he told her about the life he pictured for them. It was cozy, felt good, but too perfect, impossible.
Near the middle of University Park, a sound jerked her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she spun around and looked into the trees off the side of the path. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
After a minute, she started walking again, but it wasn’t another minute later before she heard a second noise. “All right. Come out. I hate being stalked.” She couldn’t see who was following, but she suspected it was Burkett.
“Brett?” She hoped he’d followed her, just to keep an eye on her. He did that sometimes. Not that he ever admitted it. That was better than the alternative...a fraternity group on the prowl, looking for a little fun.
A noise on the other side of the path had her jumpy now. More than one--and on either side of her? Obviously not Brett Burkett. She warned, “Don’t piss me off, guys.”
False bravado. She started walking again, doing her best to not look uncomfortable, but a voice inside her head was saying
run
.
Just as loud, another voice was saying,
Don’t run, they’ll know you’re scared.
She glanced down. Stilettos. Definitely not running shoes. Pulling her coat close around her, she watched the path in front of her. One foot at a time, she’d get home. That’s what she told herself.
But far behind her she heard a howl, and then another. Then Burkett yelled, “Run!” It sounded like a pack of dogs attacking him, and was followed by an agonized scream of, “Oh, my God!” and then a desperate, “Run, Giselle, run!”
Giselle didn’t have to think twice. She panicked. She ran.
She didn’t get very far before they were after her. Pounced from behind within seconds, they knocked her to the ground and held her there. Dogs snarling, the weight of one really big one on her back, sniffing her, growling like it would chew into her if she moved. And in the background, Brett’s screaming stopped.
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” she said to herself repeatedly, in tears.
Why weren’t they biting?
Over her shoulder, she heard, “It’s her.” A female voice.
That made her jerk and try to look around. But what she saw was straight out of the movies. They weren’t dogs. Wolf men. Wolf women.
Giselle blinked. They were all over the place, slinking around, eyeing her with hunkered down shoulders, peering at her with great interest. She was frozen with fear, afraid to say anything, not believing her eyes.
Another voice, just coming upon them, said, “I had to kill him.”
“Oh, God.” She knew they were talking about Burkett.
“Feast,” someone else said. A ton of them ran off in the direction of Brett’s house.
All she could do was lay there facedown and cry.
The voice of the one holding her down said, “She’s not taking this well.” It was followed by a snicker and joined by the hoarse cackle of other females.
The murderer said, “Fuck. You knocked her down? I hope you didn’t mess her up. Hood will kill you.”
“Where is he?”
“He should be along any minute.”
“Where the fuck is he?” The voice on top of her was angry. “I’ll bite her myself.” The nose was all over her again.
“He’s sniffing around the house. He won’t be long.”
She felt teeth tugging at her coat’s collar, so she screamed and tried to cover the back of her head with her hands. Too late, the coat ripped and she felt teeth sink into the back of her neck, in the fleshy part of the muscle. Sheer pain. It wasn’t an instant later that she felt the bite rip as her assailant was knocked from her back.
With a furious snarl, and no mercy, Hood shredded the bitch--to death. Blood went everywhere.
Giselle didn’t watch. She rolled up into a protective ball and prayed, then went numb. But she registered the face of the man who picked her up off the ground and carried her to safety. Handsome, strong. His crooning, “It’ll be okay, Giselle, just relax, I’ll take care of you,” brought her great peace.
