THERON (Book I In The Ancients Series) [SAMPLE]

NINE.

Theron laid on his back, watching the clouds float overhead. He didn't care that he was in his human form now. He didn't care that he was as naked as the day he was born. He wasn't concerned with the amount of blood that was dried and crusted to his skin.

He felt alive.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he let himself relax enough to pay sweet attention to what was around him... and not in the way he was used to.

He didn't listen for the cracking of twigs to warn him of an incoming predator. Instead, he relished in the natural sounds of the forest around him; the harmony of the birds, the music of the wind lightly blowing through the trees, and the melody water created as it trickled down the small stream to his left.

He wasn't on high alert for the smell of prey or danger. As it just so happened, he thought lazily about the scent of the deer blood that was wafting from the carcass to his right and how fresh and warm blood smelled a bit different than that of the cold and coagulated kind now emanating from the dead body of his recent kill.

And Theron didn't focus on the feeling of constant anger, resentment, and self-hatred that usually occupied his soul. Currently, he was just enjoying the feel of the sunlit grass he now relaxed on. It was soft mostly, but sometimes a little prickly if he moved a certain way. The dirt beneath that held the growing roots of that sod was cool and moist, a stark contrast to the warmth of the grass.

But what he paid the most attention to was his sense of sight... not the headless and shredded deer that lay beside him. Oh no, that was the old Theron—the "Before." Before Catalina. This new Theron, what he amusedly considered the "After," was in awe of the way the sunlight filtered through the trees and the leaves fluttered against the breeze... the azure color of the sky and the fluffy clouds that floated along, passing like a sailboat in the ocean. He wondered what stories Lina would have created out of these gigantic puffs of cotton.

He did try to make up stories himself, but without a cloud that closely resembled a flower, aka a penis, he had nothing. Theron just did not possess the imagination or creativity for such silliness.

Oddly enough, Theron hadn't needed a generous amount of kills to satiate his bloodlust this time. This single carcass so close beside him had not fueled the thirst for more but instead, brought him only angst and longing because what his problem was, honestly, was much more complex and confusing: He missed that silly, little, blonde she-wolf.

And the only thing that made him feel better, allowed him the sensation of being close to her, was this. Viewing the world around him in a new light and taking the time to appreciate the beauty of the nature that surrounded him. It didn't matter to the wondrous outdoors that he was a murderer. It didn't matter that he often let his emotions get the best of him, turning into the demonic beast he was so greatly known for. It didn't matter that he was an abomination, a curse upon the ground to which he lay on. No. Nature accepted him-flaws and all. Unconditionally.

Just like Lina.

But with the thought of Lina, came the remembrance of his current situation.

Daniel Grimes had not given them much useful information. The dead fucker was able to confirm the region of the three packs that Theron had detected, but Daniel had only been responsible for those packs within the proximity of Tennessee and did not know who had his particular job at their Texas facility... though he strongly suspected that whatever was happening in his assigned area was also going on in Texas, which, ultimately, made the situation worse.

The dreaded fact was there were more than three wolf packs being affected.

With that knowledge, it was more than horribly suspect that the Ancients didn't know what was happening to their people. How could no one inform at least one of them? Theron knew he wasn't a likely candidate but surely Marius would have been privy to such strife. The older, wiser, and more social of the four would surely have had the avenues and connections not to be blind sighted... wouldn't he? If not him, then surely the council. If the council was aware, then so was he and his brothers. Well, maybe not him, specifically—or ever, really—but his brothers at least, for that was the structure of things.