Legend (A Wolf Lake Novella) (3 page)

Roland nodded, his wolf calming under the light touch of his alpha.
 

The hair on the back of her neck refused to settle. She tried shaking off the sensation, reminded herself that there was nothing to be afraid of. It didn't work. The quiet had turned from peaceful to anxious, the world around her waiting with a kind of dark anticipation.
 

Looking around, she realized how open and exposed she was, the lake blocking any retreat behind her, the forest too far away to offer any sort of quick camouflage. Suddenly understanding how a rabbit felt caught out in the open with a hawk circling above, Sam tossed the gel wrapper into her pack along with her journal, slung it over her shoulder and hurried back to her campsite.

Nafarius and Roland followed the woman, careful to stay out of sight, little more than shadows blending with the shade.
 

Back at camp, Sam tried to shake the feeling of being watched. She desperately needed a bath but didn't like the idea of being naked, vulnerable.
This is ridiculous
, she thought.
There is nothing out there!
The only one likely to get a show was Jack the rabbit and she doubted he would be interested.

Telling herself how ridiculous she was being, repeating it over and over again, Sam unzipped her tent and pulled out a fresh pair of clothes.
 

Nafarius could see the woman muttering to herself, her voice carried away on the wind. He wondered what she would sound like. Would her voice be light and feminine or dark and sultry? She fascinated him, out here alone. It was rare that anyone came this far and never a woman. He watched as she pulled a bag out of her tent and headed to the lake. Realizing that she planned to bathe, Nafarius stood immobile, watching as she stripped out of her clothes.

Sam stopped at the water's edge, glanced back over her shoulder to her campsite.
Maybe just a sponge bath
, she thought,
in the privacy of my own tent
. There had been little water between her car and Wolf Lake, personal hygene reduced to a sponge bath using travel wipes. She was too many days without a shower and desperately wanted to feel clean. Casting one last look around, she quickly pulled her shirt over her head, unsnapped the front clasp of her bra and shimmied out of her jeans. Dropping everything to the ground, leaving it to deal with later, she walked the last few feet to the water.

Nafarius watched the woman step into the water, noted the way her nipples hardened in the cold, felt his cock and his wolf stir with curiosity.

"Son of a...," Sam gasped, her breath catching in her chest as she stepped into the frigid water. She'd forgotten about the snowrun off. The crystal blue water had deceptively appeared warm. Shivering, her teeth chattering, she forced herself forward and quickly dipped under the water. Rubbing vigorously, she washed off a layer of grime and rinsed her hair before heading back to shore.

* * *

"She doesn't belong here," Roland snarled.
 

Nafarius stood silently watching as the woman emerged from the lake. Cold water ran down from her body in rivulets, dripped from full breasts, accenting generous curves.
 

"We can't just..." Roland started.

"Bring her," Nafarius ordered. Beside him, Roland dropped to his hands and knees, started to shift. "And Roland," Nafarius said, staring down into the angry eyes of his second. "Don't eat her. I want to know who she is, where she comes from."

Roland grunted, his face already starting to elongate.

Nafarius didn't say anything, just held the man's gaze until Roland finally gave an almost imperceptible nod.

* * *

Still cold from her bath, Sam sat before a small fire warming her hands and drying her hair. The night was quiet, the unsettling peace from earlier having morphed into something that calmed, soothed. She still wasn't sure what had set her nerves of edge.
 

Come on, after everything you've read about this place, is it any wonder you got spooked?

Damn, the Andrew sound-a-like was back.

Ignoring him, Sam dug out another MRE, eating and staring up at the sky. She was surprised by how many stars were out. Had she ever seen so many stars? Back home, she'd never had much use for star gazing. Foster kids weren't generally encouraged to look at the stars, let alone reach for them.
Keep your head down, your nose clean
. Those were the words of wisdom her social works had passed on, reiterating them with each new foster home.
 

She had done just that, remaining invisible until she'd turned eighteen and graduated high school. Aging out of the system had been anti-climatic, moving from ward of the state to adult between one breath and the next. In reality, nothing had changed. She was just as alone as an adult as she had been as a child. The only difference was now nobody was paid to pretend to care.

Jesus
, she thought,
pity party for one!
Maybe it was time to go home. She certainly didn't want to sit out here and wallow. Not without a bottle of beer or that hand-crank blender. More and more, she was starting to see the benefits of such a gadget. Smiling to herself, Sam turned back to the fire.
 

"Holy shit," she whispered. Standing on the other side of the fire was the biggest fucking wolf she had ever seen. Not that she'd seen that many. The zoo had a small pack in captivity, the largest among them similar in size to a large dog. This...this looked like a small horse...or like it could eat a small horse.

Slowly, Sam rose to her feet stopping when the wolf let out a low growl of warning. "Hey there," Sam said, pitching her voice low. "Easy boy. Boy? Yeah, you look like a boy." Realizing she was babbling (and at a wolf no less!) she frantically searched her brain for what little she knew about wolves.
 

Don't run, face the animal and back away slowly.
Heart pounding, her fight or flight response screaming for her to run, she forced herself to put one foot behind the other in an effort to increase the space between her and the wolf.

"It's okay," she cooed softly, not sure if she was reassuring the wolf or herself. In response, the wolf pulled back its lips revealing sharp canines that gleamed in the firelight. The growl, which had been nothing more than a low rumble in the animal's chest, turned into a vicious snarl freezing Sam in her tracks.
 

Roland lifted his head and howled. A moment later the sweet scent of the woman's fear exploded in the night air. She was talking to him, her voice pitched low, the tone calm. Roland ignored her, uncaring of her fear, concerned only with the safety of his pack and the elimination of a threat. The need to destroy burning in his gut, Roland launched himself at the woman, the heat from the fire singeing the downy fur of his belly as he sailed over the flames.

Sam turned and fled. Heart pounding, legs pumping, she dove for the forest, the darkness swallowing her whole. Branches slapped at her face and snagged in her hair. Behind her came the unmistakeable sound of a large animal in pursuit.

Roland reveled in the chase. Muscles straining, his heart pounding, he felt the crush of leaves beneath his paws, the scent of dirt and debris rising up in the air. Ahead of him, he could see the woman running, hear her heart beating and the blood rushing beneath her skin.

Her fear was intoxicating, the scent like a beacon drawing him to her even as she tried to escape. He was surprised how fast she was, keeping her feet and even jumping fallen logs in her mad dash.
 

Sam forced herself to keep moving. Already her legs were tiring, her muscles straining for oxygen as she pushed them to their limits. The forest floor was uneven, the underbrush thick, forcing her to take an erratic path. Trees passed by in a blur, their limbs reaching out, grabbing at her clothes, cutting her face. Sam stumbled, chocked back a sob.

Roland watched the woman stumble, surprised when she managed to catch herself and stay on her feet. A second later she turned towards the lake, headed for easier terrain.
Smart woman,
he grudgingly allowed. Issuing a series of short barks, Roland watched as two more wolves joined the chase.
 

Sam gave a cry and swerved to the right as another wolf darted out from the trees coming between her and the lake. Behind her, she felt the the brush of a large body passing behind her legs as a third wolf nipped at her heels. Belatedly, she recalled that wolves hunt in packs...

Roland watched Marcus and Jeff herd the woman away from the water. He felt pride as they worked together, anticipating each other's movements and driving the woman further into pack territory. They had covered more than a mile, most of it over rough, uneven forest floor. It wouldn't be long now before the woman gave up, surrendering the chase.
 

Sam knew it was over. She couldn't keep running. They had driven her away from the lake, taking away the one landmark she could have used to get her back to camp and from there, home. Her thighs were on fire, her legs growing heavy with exhaustion and she was lost in the woods. It was just a matter of time before she gave out completely.

Roland saw the woman stagger and his wolf responded, launching himself into the air and slamming into the woman's back.
 

Sam felt herself go down hard, her body connecting with the ground with bone jarring force. The breath was knocked from her body, her eyes and mouth filling with dirt and dead leaves as she skidded to a stop. She struggled to roll over, staring up at the stars littering the night sky.
 

Next thing she knew, the wolf was there, his head blocking out the sky and filling her vision.

Sam started to scramble back, her heels frantically digging into the ground as she propelled herself backwards.

Roland leapt onto the woman's chest, pinning her to the ground. Lips curled back, teeth bared, he snarled and snapped at her, watching as she turned her head and exposed her neck.

Sam turned away from the attack, closed her eyes. "Please," she pleaded.

Roland recognized the gesture, his wolf immediately responding to the surrender of one weaker to him and backed off.

It took a minute for Sam to realize that the attack wasn't coming. Slowly, she turned her head and found the wolf watching her.
 

Tipping his head back, Roland howled the end of the chase. Almost immediately, his voice was joined by the rest of the pack still moving through the forest until the night rung with a hauntingly beautiful chorus.

Shaking as the last of the adrenaline left her body, Sam pushed herself back until she bumped against a tree. Hands trembling, she brushed the hair back from her face and watched in fear and fascination as two more wolves broke from the forest and headed for her. Frantically searching the ground around her, Sam hoped for a large branch or a stick - anything to help her fight off the danger.

Roland watched as Marcus and Jeff took up flanking positions, surrounding the woman and keeping her from escaping.
 

Roland issued a series of short barks, warning the males to stay alert, and started to shift.

It took a moment before Sam realized that something was happening. Around her the wolves had grown quiet, the two on either side of her sitting back on their haunches, ears up and alert. Across from her, the wolf that had run her down started to...change.

No, no, no, no...
Sam blinked, there was no way in hell she was seeing this. Fur so white it glowed in the moonlight started to shorten, muscles started to rearrange themselves and the wolf's face contorted in ways nature never intended.
 

The entire process took three minutes - tops - until what remained was the obvious body of a man.

Roland stood, stretching muscles that had gone tight. The change was uncomfortable, bordering on painful, but after 80 years he had grown accustomed to it.
 

Sam started at the man's feet, her gaze traveling up, up and up over long legs, thick thighs and an impressive manhood. Across a six...no, make that eight-pack to broad shoulders before finally coming to rest on a face that would be heartbreakingly handsome, but for the scar. "Fuck me," she whispered.

"I don't do humans," Roland snarled in disgust.

Sam blinked and snapped her mouth shut. Standing slowly, she reached out a hand to touch him, only to snatch it back as one of the wolves snapped at her trembling fingers. "I'm dreaming," she said, rubbing at her eyes. "Or dead...or unconscious...that's it. I fell, hit my head and I'm lying somewhere unconscious and dreaming."

Roland listened as the woman muttered to herself. She was tall for a woman, though she still stood several inches shorter than him, with thick, black hair and green eyes. Her face, while beautiful, had an edge to it that suggested at rough beginnings. Now that was something Roland understood. Still, considering her objectively, he supposed that most men would find her beautiful. For a human.
 

"Shut up," Roland snapped. "Let's go." Turning, he stalked across the clearing not bothering to look back or wait for her.

"Ah...no." Sam said. Did he honestly think she was just going to blindly follow him - a complete and total stranger - into the woods? When did she get the staring role in a bad B movie?

Roland stopped and swung around, narrowed eyes pinning her in her place. Beside him, Jeff and Marcus whimpered and dropped to their bellies. "What did you say?"
 

Clearly, he was not used to being disobeyed.
Too bad
, Sam thought. "Look, I don't know who you are, or what the hell is going on here," she said, feeling herself starting to shake, her mad dash through the forest having spiked her system with a massive dose of adrenaline. Between that and the shock of what she'd witnessed, it was taking everything she had to keeep calm and on her feet. "I am
not
going with you."
 

As he watched, the woman turned her back on him and started for the trees. Roland realized that he had just been dismissed.
The bitch was going to be trouble
, he predicted.