Wolves in the Shadows (The Wolf Clan Chronicles) Read Free Page B

dreams that had faded from memory.  Childhood fears that had been outgrown.  Nightmares that had haunted her in her youth came to life and reached out to her with withered hands.  The smell of burning flesh and twisted metal filled her nostrils as she heard agonized screaming. 
    She could hardly breathe or even think.  Her senses were filled to overflowing as she felt herself being pulled down into the deepest, darkest part of her memory. 
    But Elizabeth was not one to surrender.  Even as she felt the last vestiges of herself threaten to slip into the darkness, something woke up inside her.  Something fierce and bestial.  She clawed her way towards the pair of eyes that watched her from the shadows. 
    “Let me out!”  Her own voice echoed inside her he ad though she did not speak.  She blinked and the darkness had vanished, and she once again standing still before Sir Marcus’ father.  It took her a moment to realize that whatever had just happened to her had been in her own mind. 
    “Father, I have brought you Elizabeth Morden as you requested.”  Elizabeth heard Sir Marcus say, though she hardly realized that he was speaking at first.  His voice seemed to bring her back into reality. 
    “Son.”  His voice was deeper than his son’s.  Elizabeth was not sure if it was just her imagination, but she was certain that the floor beneath her feet shook as he spoke again.  “Do not be afraid, young Elizabeth.” 
    Elizabeth could not respond.  Her mouth was dry with fear, and she felt as if she had somehow been turned into a statue, rigid and unmoving.  Marcus guided to a crate that had been draped with soft black velvet and sat her down.  She must have been able to walk, but she could hardly feel herself move.  Everything seemed to be strangely shimmering around the edges. 
    “I am Lord Reginald Wolfrick.”  She had neither seen nor heard him move, but suddenly he was sitting beside her.  His grey eyes studied her delicate features. 
    Elizabeth nodded, still unable to speak.  Of course she knew his name, but nothing that Sir Marcus had said could have possibly prepared her for this presence, this unbearable power. 
    “Thank you for coming to me.”  He pronounced each syllable with the slow deliberation of someone who was not accustomed to having to say thank you, someone whose every word was to be heard and obeyed without question.  The effect was somehow both charming and terrifying.  “It was a brave thing to do.” 
    “Thank you, sir,” Elizabeth managed to croak out at last.  She did not feel remotely brave.  She felt weak and insignificant beside him, somehow even smaller than Sir Marcus made her feel.  Her worn jeans and sweater and tangled hair made her feel so shabby next to his chiseled features.  Even his scar somehow added to the unearthly beauty of his appearance.  Elizabeth was certain that she was about to embarrass herself forever by passing out as he looked at her. 
    Mercifully, the waves of power that still sought to wash her away to nothingness began to recede, and Elizabeth found that she could breathe easily once again.   Feeling rushed back into her body and everything around her seemed to become solid and real. 
    “Thank you,” she gasped, taking in great gulps of air.  It might have been musty and stale but at least it was air.  She would never take breathing for granted ever again.  The smells of rotting wood and orange peel filled Elizabeth’s nostrils, along with another bittersweet smell that she could not identify. 
    “Forgive me, young one,” Lord Reginald’s voice was like a warm blanket beginning wrapped around her shoulders.  “I will restrain myself as best I can until you become more accustomed to my presence.” 
    Elizabeth had to bite her tongue yet again.  The idea of becoming used to such a presence was laughable, but she didn’t think that this ancient vampire would appreciate being laughed at.  Not that she would be