Winter of the Wolf Read Free Page B

Teeth punched through her jeans, ripping into her thigh, and her screams echoed in the room. Oh God, why did no one come?
    Her eyes lost focus and then he was a man again, licking his lips. Laughing. “The taste of you is just—fucking great.” He loomed over her, huge and evil. “Kiling you tonight would be a waste.” He glanced at Ashley’s body. “I can feed on her. But first…”
    His hand slid down his stomach to his cock—horribly His hand slid down his stomach to his cock—horribly erect—and wrapped around it.

    * * *
    Ailill Ridge, Rainier Territory ~ Dark of the Moon Only a few hours remained before dawn, and the smal mountain town of Ailil Ridge was silent. Thick clouds had blotted out the stars in the moonless night, but the cold wind off Mt. Rainier brought the stench of evil—rotting flesh mixed with a nauseating tang like molding oranges. The scent came from the front of a one-story house, and Zebulon Damron paused in the shadow of an oak, searching for any movement.
    The helhound was close. Zeb would have his fight tonight even if his patrol-partner Shay reached the demon-dog first.
    Not even Shay could kil a helhound alone, though the obsessed idiot would probably try.
    He felt the touch of the God of the Hunt. Power poured into his cahir’s body like wine into a glass, gifting him with far more than a normal shifter’s strength.
    After skirting the patches of snow that might betray him, he edged around the corner of the house. Thorns from a rose bush scraped across his neck, and he froze, silently cursing al bush scraped across his neck, and he froze, silently cursing al females and their vicious plants. The smel of fresh blood would alert the helhound to his presence.
    He checked his weapons. Sheathed on his right hip: stiletto for the demon-dog’s eyes, double-edged dagger for its bely.
    Left hip: pistol for the eyes—although bulets were almost worthless. Be nice if cahirs had as few vulnerabilities as helhounds.
    So where was it? He risked a quick check of the narrow side yard. Good evening, hellhound . Its front paws on the planter box, the demon scum peered through the window.
    Zeb slid his blade from the sheath strapped to his right thigh. The tiny vulnerable area of the beast’s stomach was exposed. If he could get to it before—
    With a heave of its heavily muscled hindquarters, the helhound smashed through the glass. Fuck.
    “Shay. Inside!” Zeb roared to his partner in the front yard.
    After sheathing his knife, he dove through the window. The splintered glass edging the sides scraped along his leather-covered shoulders. Dammit, just once he’d like to enter a house by the door. Somersaulting to his feet, Zeb puled his dagger and spun in a circle. Empty living room.
    A woman shrieked, the sound so filed with horror that a chil ran up Zeb’s spine. Had my sister screamed like that ?
    He shoved the thought away.
    Glass shattered as Shay sprang through the front window, Glass shattered as Shay sprang through the front window, his wolf form as hefty as his human one. His paws scrambled for purchase on the tile floor.
    His partner right behind him, Zeb sprinted down the halway. They burst into the bedroom together, the wel-practiced move possible only because Shay always fought as a wolf.
    Zeb preferred to have a knife or pistol in hand.
    Shay went left; Zeb right. In the center, the helhound stalked the female cowering to the right of the door. She was a shifter, and the scent of fear poured from her—the demon-hound would gorge on that emotion like a grizzly on a new-kiled deer.
    The helhound’s attention turned, and Zeb braced himself.
    This one was normal-sized—waist-high and bigger than any wolf, wrapped in buletproof plating like a fucking dinosaur. It snarled, and the bony pointed muzzle displayed razor-sharp fangs.
    Zeb snarled back, cursing silently. So much for surprise.
    The beast stepped forward, bear-like claws clicking on the hardwood floor.
    “By Herne, you are