Releasing the Wolf (16 page)

He held up the blouse to his nose for the hundredth time and inhaled. Definitely a female’s scent, but also a male’s. He wasn’t interested in the male – he cared not an iota about finding the fucking pack and the Trident taking over the werewolf race – Dr. Trident had been insane. A complete loony-bin. The Trident just couldn’t admit it; none of them could except him – he called out the belated doctor for what he was. And he hated him. Hated him for creating their abominable species. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use the doctor’s marvellous genetic work for his own gain. He wasn’t a fool, and, after all, wasn’t he allowed a mate too? He’d always envied humans their ability to love. He wanted to love, and to be loved in return.

So he played along, towed the line, stood to attention when called to do so, and pretended he was one of the in-crowd. He’d dutifully handed the syringe back to The Trident (though not before removing a portion of the liquid for himself), but he hadn’t told any of the surviving Trident about his find.

He stroked the blouse against his cheek. Funny how things turned out, wasn’t it? Funny how fate always stepped in with her own plan. He’d gone searching for the female wolf imprinted on the blouse, and instead he’d found this human, purely by accident. He’d been standing at the edge of the woods, the female wolf’s scent hovering in the air, when voices had carried up the path. He’d whipped out his map and had pretended to be studying his route. Two hikers had walked by, one of them her – this woman now tending the flowers…

“When are you going back home?” her companion had asked.

“Tomorrow morning. Weekends are always busy for me.”

And as she’d passed him, her delightful aroma had hit him full force and sent prickles all over his skin … because riding on it was something familiar – something he’d been searching for but hadn’t known it at the time. It was barely there at all, but there nonetheless. It intrigued him no end, and his instinct to conquer and claim overrode all else. He abandoned his search for the female wolf straight away, and had followed this woman instead – this woman that carried the
other
scent imprinted on the blouse.

He dropped the piece of clothing beneath his seat, reached under his dashboard and yanked a wire out. Then he abandoned his car and made his way down the road. His throat dried as he approached her. God, she was beautiful; such a tenderness in her actions … he just wanted to eat her up.

“Excuse me,” he said.

She looked up at him, blinking the evening sun out of her eyes – amazing, dark eyes…

“I’m so sorry to trouble you. My car’s broken down and I can’t get a signal out of my mobile phone. I was wondering if I could trouble you for yours so I can call breakdown recovery?”

Something in those dark brown eyes froze for a moment, and he thought he saw a flash of pure terror in them. What on earth had he said to cause that reaction? But then she shook her head with a bashful smile, as if apologising for her silliness. “I’m sorry; I got the weirdest sense of déjà vu… Of course you can use my phone. Oh…” She stopped mid-sentence. “I just remembered the battery’s dead and I haven’t got around to charging it. Erm—”

“Do you perhaps have a cordless landline phone?” Almost everyone had a cordless nowadays. He was playing it safe, letting his hands hang loose by his sides so she could see he hid nothing, that he was open – trustworthy…

She hesitated, glancing around briefly.

Yes, sweetheart, take a look around. You live in a town house and it’s busy. You’re safe. People are milling about; a couple have even glanced this way and seen me…

He stood his ground, saying nothing. He would not invite himself in.

She met his eyes, seemed to relax, then smiled that shy smile again that made him wonder what those lips tasted like. “I don’t have a cordless, but why don’t you come inside. The phone’s just behind the door in the hallway. You can make your call from there; it would be no trouble.”

“You’re too kind. My name’s Amil, by the way.” He held out his hand for her.

She took it and her cheeks tainted pink.

Too cute. He could lose control over this one. He already had a strong urge to shift.

“Sarah,” she said, quietly. “My name’s Sarah.”

He smiled his most charming smile at her, and he knew he didn’t brush up ugly. “Sarah.” Her name rolled off his tongue like syrup, and he finally uttered a truth. “I’m delighted to meet you.”

He followed her inside her house.

“...Everything can be taken from a man but one thing; the last of the human freedoms – to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”

Viktor Frankl

Book two,
Cry Of The Wolf
, is released in 2013. To keep up with all updates, please join me on
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Acknowledgements

I’d like to extend my huge thanks to Elizabeth and Ninfa, both of whom have provided much needed support over the past two months, with both my writing and my personal life. It’s not how much you do, it’s how you do it, and the fact that you’re simply there. xxx

About The Author

Dianna Hardy is a UK-based, independent author of gothic poetry, adult urban fantasy, dark fantasy and paranormal romance, including
The Witching Pen Novellas
and
‘Til Death Do Us Part (an adult retelling of The Little Mermaid).
She is currently working on the
Eye Of The Storm
series,
The Last Dragon
(a spin-off novel to
The Witching Pen Novellas
), and the
Project Veil
series.

She pens stories that are fast-paced, action-packed and sexy, and writes both full-length novels and short fiction.

Dianna resides in Surrey with her partner and their daughter.

Official site:

http://www.diannahardy.com

Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/authordiannahardy

Twitter:

http://www.twitter.com/thewitchingpen

Coming Soon

Cry Of The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm #2)

Heart Of The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm #3)

The Last Dragon –
a spin-off, full-length novel to The Witching Pen Novellas

The
Project Veil
series

Other Titles

A Silver Kiss (Vampire Poetry)

A dark and daring addition to the literary world of vampirism, this is a collection of rhyming and freestyle poetry that explores the often taboo themes of power, possession and seduction.
Emotionally charging, each poem is written from a different perspective, be it the hunter or the hunted and inspires a deeper look into the psychology of the human mind and the darker aspects of human relationships and society.
Age range: suitable for older teenagers to adults
Published by Bitten Fruit Books

All details can be found at

http://www.vampirepoetry.co.uk

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