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Song Of The Wolf
Hannah Pole
When the lone wolf howls, you fight or dieHer soul cruelly ripped from her body, Alison cowers in her cell, unable even to call forth her inner wolf as comfort, her dreams of a mate and pups crushed. For who would have her now, even if she could escape alive?Dax is a lone wolf, operating on the fringes of his pack. No one messes with him, and that's just the way he likes it. Rescuing Alison from the High Lord's vile clutches is all he cares about, because there's something that calls his shattered soul to hers. As their world faces its biggest threat yet, the fragile bond between these two damaged creatures rallies the pack to fight the ultimate battle…for their souls and their very survival.
When the lone wolf howls, you fight or die
Her soul cruelly ripped from her body, Alison cowers in her cell, unable even to call forth her inner wolf as comfort, her dreams of a mate and pups crushed. For who would have her now, even if she could escape alive?
Dax is a lone wolf, operating on the fringes of his pack. No one messes with him, and that’s just the way he likes it. Rescuing Alison from the High Lord’s vile clutches is all he cares about, because there’s something that calls his shattered soul to hers.
As their world faces its biggest threat yet, the fragile bond between these two damaged creatures rallies the pack to fight the ultimate battle…for their souls and their very survival.
Book List (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
Call of the Wilderness series
SILENCE OF THE WOLVES
SONG OF THE WOLF
Song of the Wolf
Call of the Wilderness: Book 2
Hannah Pole
Copyright (#ulink_0a8d6b2b-de21-52dc-b866-a243ed60e32a)
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2013
Copyright © Hannah Pole 2013
Hannah Pole asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © November 2013 ISBN: 9781472054746
Version date: 2018-10-30
HANNAH POLE says:
I am a born and bred wild child. (I like to think so anyway!)
I moved to sunny Folkestone to escape and find my feet as, well, whatever I was destined to be. But, alas, my short attention span made finding my destiny a little difficult. One day I came across an old diary entry that made me laugh so hard I actually fell off my chair. (Yes, this really can happen!)
I decided that the entry was so funny; it needed to be shared with the world. So I started writing, and attempted to turn it into a novel. Though to this day that novel remains unfinished, it will always be the novel that got me started, and showed me what I was passionate about. I have aspired to be everything from a private investigator to a zoo keeper; my interests change so quickly that I could never stick to one. Writing gives me the freedom to choose; I can be a cold-hearted assassin in love with a poet one day and the secret lesbian lover of a politician the next!
All my life, I have had a strong, unwavering passion for anything supernatural, spiritual and slightly unexplainable. I love the idea that there can be something completely fantastical lurking beneath the confines of normality. So of course, mythical creatures of all shapes and sizes dominate most of my work.
In a nutshell, I am a creative, crazy bean, living with my lovely husband and a house full of too many animals. I’ve always secretly wished I were a werewolf of some description, but have come to realise that I will have to settle for writing about them instead! I’m happiest in the sun with my head in a good book! All I can say from here is, I hope you like what you read!
Acknowledgements (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
Firstly, I want to give a huge thank you to my readers. You guys are awesome!!
The amount of love I’ve had for my writing has taken my breath away. I couldn’t do what I love without you all. So you have my eternal gratitude!
I would like to say a special thank you to Becca Misura and Kaiti for being such supportive readers. You both rock!
As always thank you to Daniel Pole, my lovely man. Thank you for supporting me through my dream. I know I can be a bit unsociable when I spend hours staring at my laptop yelling ‘babe, what do you think of this bit.’ But I really do appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me. That and the constant flow of coffee you provide me with… It keeps me going, it really does!
And to Anna, my editor, thank you for your patience and understanding. Without your help, I can honestly say all of my books would not be even remotely as strong as they are today. Your guidance and passion has given me the career I have always dreamed of!
I would also like to thank Vicky Castle for being my most enthusiastic, amazing best friend. My family Georgia Lycett, Liza, Mike, and William Townsend, I couldn’t have done this without your love and support. And to my epic critics Fang and Adam Stewart. You two kept me going through the hard parts and inspired me to write when I was at a loss for what to do next!
Thank you to all who have put up with my constant rambling, it is greatly appreciated and without you, I wouldn’t have made it this far!
Dedication (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
I would like to dedicate this book to all of you aspiring writers. This is a hard road to tread. The world can be a difficult place to walk through when you’ve poured your heart and soul into something as delicate as a novel.
Remember to always write for yourself, love your words and be passionate about your imagination. Keep writing!!
Contents
Cover (#u79780591-70cd-5c4f-985f-cc18e388b2f0)
Blurb
Book List
Title Page (#uf69019de-8b0c-58f5-9e41-1b11778f1212)
Copyright (#u54c68745-a0e2-53c8-8b2d-3530f5ac2188)
Author Bio (#ud0c15484-3188-5a69-912c-28d9ca923ee5)
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Coming Soon (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
Alison wandered through the dense woodland surrounding her pack land enjoying the cool night air on her face. Tamriel and Leyth’s mating had been wonderful. Alison rejoiced in the fact that she was home and safe. But even as she thought it, her unease stirred, making her gut churn.
Something was very wrong; she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Alison pushed her fears aside and wrapped her arms around her shivering body as she pressed onwards. The rest of the pack was far out in the woodland, in wolf form. They would be hunting and playing, as was pack custom after a mating. Yet since the bastard-High Lord (as her brother would put it) bound her soul against her will, her body was slowly dying. And what was worse, he’d bound the wolf half of her soul as well. She was no longer capable of shifting into her wolf counterpart. That in itself was one of fate’s cruelest twists. She truly mourned the loss.
Something shuffled in the bushes up ahead, making her jump. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She was on pack land after all. There was nowhere safer than here. It was probably one of the twins, Reylix or Taevyn messing around, trying to scare her in jest. They were so stupid sometimes. Nonetheless, the twisting ball of fear in her gut intensified and she got moving back towards the mansion. The bushes rustled once more.
Alison flinched. There was definitely someone there.
“Who’s there?” she squeaked, hoping and praying it really was one of the twins. More rustling was the only response. Alison tried harder to ignore her gut. She was just being silly; her entire pack was roaming the woodland tonight. Surely it was one of them! She quickly moved in an attempt to see who was in the bushes.
“Hello, little wolf.” The raspy voice slid through the night from behind the tree. Oh no… It couldn’t be… “Thought we wouldn’t find you here?” His putrid breath tainted the air.
Alison turned to run, opened her mouth to scream. Oh dear Maker NO! But before she could so much as squeak, a heavy leather-clad hand shot out of the night and wrapped around her mouth. Alison fought the surge of panic with everything she had, biting down on the hand and forcing her limbs into action. She had to get away NOW. But before she had a chance to even try, another man appeared from behind the tree, silver wire dripping from his grip. A knife was thrust against her throat. The cool metal bit into her skin so harshly that blood welled to the surface. But she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. She would rather die fighting than go back to the hell on earth these men had kept her in. They were some of the tuhrned. And the tuhrned were the Circle’s minions. If they were here it meant that that traitorous band of rebels was already back up and running. Good Maker, it meant the Circle must have a new leader.
Alison kicked and elbowed. She bit down on the hand at her mouth and twisted her head wildly in an attempt to get loose but all she succeeded in doing was making that knife sink further into her skin.
The second tuhrned bent down, wrapping silver wire around her kicking ankles, making her whimper in sheer pain as the metal seared her skin. She cursed her race’s aversion to the metal. It was the one thing wolves were powerless against, and goddamn, it really hurt! Burning through flesh like a hot knife through butter, scalding her skin until pain became all she could feel, and the scent of it hung in her nose making her gag.
Still she fought, thrashing against them until blood loss made her woozy. The two half-dead men didn’t seem fazed. Didn’t care.
As she became too weak to put up any more of a fight, they dragged her backwards, her arms and ankles screaming in protest as the wire sank deeper still.
The man holding her by the throat leaned down, his mouth so close to her face that his breath washed across her nose, making her gag.
“We’ve got your soul, little wolf. And the new High Lord wants to meet you,” he hissed.
Alison screamed with everything she had but none of it made so much of a dent in the night’s silence. The heavy hand over her mouth muffled any noise she managed to rip loose and when she tried to draw air into her lungs, those heavy hands stuffed a vile-tasting rag into her mouth, forcing her to choke and bite down on it as they roughly stuck tape across her lips.
The tuhrned shoved a bag over her head. It was damp and smelled of death and blood. She screamed as much as she could, but was only too aware of how little sound was coming out. With that, the bastard wrapped silver wire around her already broken and bleeding throat, keeping the bag in place as she was dragged off of her home land and away to Maker only knew where.
All she could think was that her entire pack, every single member of her family, was out roaming the woods. SOMEONE was close, someone was within metres of them but no one was coming to help. She kicked and thrashed her feet on the ground trying to make as much noise as she could but no one came. No one heard her.
Alison was stuffed into the back of a vehicle and as the engine roared to life she wept. She had been taken from her own home. These bastards had taken her from her family AGAIN.
And no one knew she was gone.
Chapter One (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
Three weeks. It had been THREE damn weeks since Alison had been taken. Dax was all but going mad. He couldn’t stand how long it had been. They should have found her by now.
To keep himself sane, he had literally spent every second he could out looking for her and tonight, he’d hit the jackpot – one of the Circle’s underground bases.
“Dax, you IDIOT. You could have been killed. We’re five minutes away. Why the hell couldn’t you have waited for us?” Leyth’s gruff voice barked through the mini-coms. The minuscule speaker pinned into his ear meant he could hear everything Leyth and the rest of the team said, and the miniature microphone clipped into his mouth meant they could hear everything he said.
So he kept his mouth shut.
Scanning the room, he couldn’t help the vicious smile that curled his mouth. These bastards hadn’t known what had hit them when he’d forced his way in. All around him were the scattered bodies of the tuhrned. Those traitors weren’t dead yet though. They were more zombie than person. The only way to kill them was to cut the head off. But Dax hadn’t wanted to kill them. He’d wanted to question them.
Alison’s kidnapping had left him more than a little empty; his very soul ached at the loss of her. Perhaps that loss had made him somewhat brutal in his fighting style and frankly they deserved everything they got. He just wanted to question these bastards and get his female back. The female. A member of his pack. That was all there was to it.
“You,” he barked at the tomb closest to him. Leyth had always called the ‘tuhrned’ tombs because they were essentially dead men walking. They should be in a tomb, not ‘alive’ and fighting the High Lord’s war. And this one was no exception to that. His rotting grey skin looked bloated, swollen, only exaggerating his pale thinning hair and his dark-rimmed, sunken eyes. Oh Maker, the smell? Rotten.
