Twenty Six year old Blake Hunter is the Alpha of the largest pack in the region. Finding his mate is the last thing on his mind.
But, in the midst of dealing with uninvited relations, aspiring future Lunas and increasing rogue attacks on his easter...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Hours had passed at Elmwood.
The light streaming through the stained glass had slowly faded and died, leaving behind the soft glow of moonlight that skimmed over the furniture with a pale blue chill. Hannah and Dylan both watched the windows with fevered eyes, waiting for the sounds of the pack to die down and the guards to settle into their nightly routines.
“Won't be long now,” Dylan said in a terse whisper, his fists clenching and unclenching nervously.
Hannah merely grunted. Her anger still rippled under the surface, held in check only by the knowledge that she'd never stand a chance of escaping alive without Dylan's cooperation.
Eventually the distant rumblings of everyday life lessened, replaced by the lonely call of a solitary owl, nestled in the grove of trees that surrounded the pack house. Even the guards had abandoned their vigil in favour of a hot meal and a rowdy game of cards.
Dylan carefully turned the handle of the door, edging it open inch by inch to prevent the ancient hinges from giving them away. Cautiously he stuck his head through the gap. “It's clear,” he announced in a muffled whisper. “let's go.”
He led her out into a dimly lit corridor that lacked any signs of modern decoration, keeping one eye on the soft glow of light emanating from a partially open doorway on the far side. A rumble of jovial voices drifted towards them, accompanied by a mouth-watering smell.
Hannah inhaled, filling her lungs with the scent of roast chicken, herbs, garlic and some sort of freshly baked bread. She regretted it almost immediately as the sharp pain in her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten a solid meal for far too long. She grimaced as she realised her level of trust towards the mercenaries had far exceeded the trust she felt towards her own family. At least with Fenrik she hadn't been afraid to eat the food.
To her consternation, instead of heading away from the voices Dylan moved towards them, stopped only a few doors down, beckoning her to follow. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she watched him open the door, wincing as it creaked in protest. Dylan flinched, his eyes darting back towards the chink of light down the hall as he pulled her swiftly inside, latching the door firmly behind them. She couldn't make out his face in the gloom, but the barely audible sigh of relief spoke volumes.
As she waited for her eyes to readjust to the new darkness, Hannah took note of her surroundings, her eyes widening with disbelief.
The bathroom was large enough to rival the en-suite she'd enjoyed back at the Blackridge pack. Oversized tiles stretched from floor to ceiling and a line of sinks fixed to one wall, each with a rail for fresh, fluffy towels underneath the shallow bowls and a curved mirror set in the tiles above.
In the dim light of the window she caught sight of her own reflection, flushed with adrenaline – loose tendrils of unkempt red hair plastered themselves to her pale skin, hiding the streaks of accompanying dirt, and her crumpled clothes hung from her delicate frame riddled with stains. Her nose wrinkled, Sky would not be impressed.
