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Rescued By The Wolf
Kristal Hollis
She's not afraid to run with this wolf.When a poacher killed his mate, Rafe Wyatt lost his future. While the Wahyas of Walker's Run have been pulling him back from the brink, he's certain he won't have another chance at love. That is, until Grace comes to town.Grace Olsen is a woman without roots. That's exactly how she likes it, until a sojourn in a small, close-knit Appalachian community gives her a new vision of what home could be—and so does Rafe. He was supposed to be nothing more than a casual lover, just as wary of commitment as she is. When their raw attraction becomes something deeper, more complex, they could be looking at a new future together. But someone close to them both would rather see Grace dead than let her be with the man—and the wolf—she's grown to love.
She’s not afraid to run with his wolf.
When a poacher killed his mate, Rafe Wyatt lost his future. While the Wahyas of Walker’s Run have been pulling him back from the brink, he’s certain he won’t have another chance at love. That is, until Grace comes to town.
Grace Olsen is a woman without roots. That’s exactly how she likes it, until a sojourn in a small, close-knit Appalachian community gives her a new vision of what home could be—and so does Rafe. He was supposed to be nothing more than a casual lover, just as wary of commitment as she is. When their raw attraction becomes something deeper, more complex, they could be looking at a new future together. But someone close to them both would rather see Grace dead than let her be with the man—and the wolf—she’s grown to love.
Testosterone and a slew of wolfan hormones stormed Rafe’s veins.
Burning up all his restraint, Rafe stood perfectly still as Grace moved lithely out of the room with her hips sashaying in an erotic sway that beckoned both the man and the wolf.
God, she was pretty. Long, shiny hair the color of corn silk. Bright green eyes that put polished emeralds to shame. Soft golden skin and an athletic body with just the right amount of curves. None of which he should’ve noticed. And yet he had, and more.
She had a ready smile, a kind heart toward people and animals. He liked her spunk more than he should.
And she smelled really good, too.
Another time, another place. Another life. She could’ve been the one.
Southern born and bred, KRISTAL HOLLIS holds a psychology degree and has spent her adulthood helping people and animals. When a family medical situation resulted in a work sabbatical, she began penning deliciously dark paranormal romances as an escape from the real-life drama. But when the crisis passed, her passion for writing love stories continued. A 2015 Golden Heart® Award finalist, Kristal lives with her husband and two rescued dogs at the edge of the enchanted forest that inspires her stories.
Rescued by the Wolf
Kristal Hollis
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To all who have loved and lost, and dared to love again.
Although the act of writing may be a solitary endeavor, inspiration is often found far and wide.
To Cam and Scott at New Tokyo Auto Repair, thanks for keeping the Blue Bandit running smoothly so I can attend all those writerly meetings and retreats. A heartfelt thanks to my friend and colleague, John Custis, for sharing your knowledge of baseball. Ann Leslie Tuttle and Kayla King, oh how I appreciate your wisdom and guidance in helping me to shape this story. And, as always, much love, hugs and kisses to Keith—the hero of my heart, thank you for never doubting.
Contents
Cover (#u2b73504d-cd41-5be8-8bf8-b7733e6e7fc8)
Back Cover Text (#ub9b16cb9-cf00-5126-a9b7-509873d322fb)
Introduction (#u83c56439-325a-5256-a445-86d80ab14234)
About the Author (#uec060eac-ca70-57a3-97d8-7e209d570ff6)
Title Page (#u2c2413f5-9c60-5c09-b9f5-4000956e9dec)
Dedication (#u08dfb976-6220-5289-a196-142e5c40858f)
Chapter 1 (#ua89bb198-9c3a-51a1-a231-fc0cd76cbf06)
Chapter 2 (#uabe1f095-8ef6-5f52-bb1f-6cd4c9fc2834)
Chapter 3 (#u435f0625-e80a-5811-9cfb-4ae1a0217acc)
Chapter 4 (#ub1cdecb3-837f-5607-b4d3-2d82d5916fac)
Chapter 5 (#ub9fa7cbb-f98a-5e32-a06d-051ab34c868c)
Chapter 6 (#u2cd38cb3-de38-5d31-9b4f-73451d9be45e)
Chapter 7 (#uea8e58b3-1b34-5e56-8604-81eb9260662d)
Chapter 8 (#uf8dc8cc8-71ba-5950-9d5a-bb500643662f)
Chapter 9 (#ua4e4cf1f-5a12-5d9d-952c-83245f2c821e)
Chapter 10 (#ue2749ce1-5dea-59df-b771-7ffc1198e652)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
Boom!
The shotgun blast decimated the midnight calm of the Walker’s Run wolf sanctuary. Rafe Wyatt’s sure-footed paws faltered. Heart frozen midpound, he dove to the ground, nose filling with the earthy scents of damp dirt and decayed leaves.
A flash-flood of dread and fear rolled tremors through his wolfan body but he didn’t feel any pain from penetrating shrapnel.
Then again, three years ago he hadn’t felt the bullet that had ripped through him and killed his pregnant mate trotting beside him, either.
Goddamn poacher.
If Rafe had been in his human form, he would’ve spit on the ground and stomped his foot in it as if it were the dead man’s grave.
The hunter hadn’t lived long enough to collect his trophy. Rafe, still in his wolf form, had torn him to shreds. A justified killing under wolfan law.
He’d suffered no recriminations from the Woelfesenat, the governing wolf council. Any penance was his own.
Avenging Lexi’s death had brought him no peace. His only solace from the loss and longing had come from a bottle of bourbon.
How many times had he drunk himself into oblivion, only to find the sharp talons of reality waiting to shred his heart and soul again the moment he awoke, cold, naked, and alone?
Too many to count.
And it had damn near killed him when he’d blacked out behind the wheel and missed the curve at Wiggins’s Pass. Drove right off the mountain. The guardrail, a thick canopy of trees below, and rescue workers had kept his Jeep from plunging to the bottom.
Still, the accident wasn’t what convinced him to stop drinking. It had been waking up in the hospital and seeing his father’s drawn, pale face, the frenzied panic in his eyes, his ghostly-white lips and the salt-and-pepper hair that suddenly had twice as much salt as pepper. Rafe never wanted to make his father look like that again.
Now, instead of drinking when unbearable loneliness ate him alive, Rafe ran the pack’s protected expanse of woods. Only, wolfans didn’t use guns to safeguard their territory and the boom ricocheting through the trees was definitely from a shotgun, which meant poachers.
A chill frosted his skin. Senses heightening, he focused his acute hearing to pinpoint the direction of the gun discharge. From the echo, the shooter was northwest of him, in the vicinity of Mary-Jane McAllister’s farm at the edge the sanctuary.
The wolflings!
Releasing Mary-Jane’s potbellied pig, Cybil, and herding her back into her pen without using their human forms had become an unofficial wolfling rite of passage ever since Rafe and his best friend, Brice Walker, had successfully wrangled the ornery sow as teenagers. Their victory had resulted in cracked ribs and massive bruises, but the adventure had been one of the best of their lives.
Rafe suppressed a snarl at the arrogance of youth. Once he’d been cocky and proud. In a time when it felt good to be alive and unstoppable in the face of a nova-bright future and carefree oblivion.
At fourteen, Rafe had believed he was invincible. At twenty-eight, the reality of how wrong he’d been lived coiled inside him like a copperhead, its fangs embedded deep in his conscience, spewing venom into his soul.
The cries of frightened wolflings penetrated his mind. Rafe leaped to his feet in an all-or-nothing run. The nearest sentinels would converge to investigate. Some in wolf form, others in human form dressed as Walker’s Run Cooperative security guards. But none were as fast as Rafe.
Paws thundering against the damp and familiar ground, he zigzagged through a dark maze of tall pines. The crisp, cool spring air ruffled his fur as he ran. He covered the four-mile distance in just under two minutes.
Three frightened wolflings darted haphazardly across the farmyard in a confused search for the right direction to run.
“Go on, you damn wolf pups. Get!” Stomping on her front porch, Mary-Jane McAllister—a sturdy woman dressed in a flowered housecoat and tattered slippers with curlers in her gray-streaked hair, waved a shotgun in the air without making any action to fire it again. Although her tongue had delivered a fair share of sharp lashings, she’d never harmed a wolfan and Rafe didn’t think she intended to do so now.
“Cybil!” Mary-Jane hollered at the huge pig plowing into the woods. “Be back by morning. I got no time to look for you. I’m plantin’ beans tomorrow.”
Rafe doubted the pig would return any time soon. Once roused out of her pen, Cybil didn’t willingly go back in until good and ready.
She would be safe in the wolf sanctuary. None of the Walker’s Run Wahyas would harm one short, coarse hair on her body. The pack considered the big sow family. Besides, Cooter, the pack’s lead sentinel, was sweet on Mary-Jane. If anything happened to that pig, paying the devil his due would be pennies compared to what Cooter would extract.
Mary-Jane trudged inside the house, the screen door slamming behind her. The panicked wolflings fled into the woods. Rafe loped after them to steer them to safety.
Two adult wolves appeared ahead and the wolflings separated.
