Wild Nights (2 page)

dripped down her stomach, and moistened her hands. She reached the

den to find half of her favorite room engulfed in an orange-white

curtain. Edging along the wall, away from the roaring flames, Aya

forged ahead until she reached the gun cabinet.

Silver is always your best bet, little one, but a large-caliber bullet

can cause just as much damage to any were, if your aim is true.

Always shoot for the heart.

Charles’s words echoed in her mind. She coughed from the soot

settling in her throat. Her lungs ached. Her eyes throbbed within her

skull. Her flesh was hot and slick with sweat, feeling as if it would

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Rhea Regale

melt off her bones. Small pieces of burning debris drifted from the

ceiling, sizzling against her skin and searing her. Adrenaline surged

through her body, her inner wolf pacing restlessly just below the

surface. She had to get out.

She grabbed the handle to the cabinet and hissed, the scorching

metal branding her tender palm. Ignoring the stomach-churning agony

and the metallic scent of fresh blood, she threw open the cabinet door

and grappled along each weapon, near blind in the thick smoke.

Her fingers slid over warm metal. Shorter barrel. Small and

manageable.

Aya snagged the warm revolver. She dropped to her knees and

opened her book bag. With a quick sweep of her arm, she shoveled

several boxes of ammo off the bottom shelf. The bag jerked and

pulled, a sure sign she captured a few boxes. She yanked the zipper

closed and jumped to her feet.

Time to go
.

Timber yawned. The ceiling caved in an explosion of new flames

and sparks, crushing the far half of the room in a fiery pool of debris.

Aya shuffled backward, eyes wide as the ignition illuminated the

doorway through the dense smoke. Exit blocked, she hurried to the

closest window, struggling against the growing heaviness in her chest,

and punched out the glass. Sharp shards dug into her wet skin. Blood

mixed with salty sweat stung her open wounds. She knocked out the

rest of the pane and leaped into the cold night.

Aya dodged through the side yard, suppressing her urge to cough,

ever wary of her surroundings. She detected the methodical padding

of creatures hidden in the forest. She smelled their hunger and

excitement for a kill, as potent as the taste of burnt wood in her

mouth. A second-story window exploded, the wooden frame

splintering. Glass and smoldering debris rained down on her. She

sucked in deep gulps of fresh air, cleansing her lungs of soot and

filling them with the primal thrum of a chase. Her chest contracted

and she coughed.

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13

No, can’t give in to a coughing fit now. Charles needs me!

Coming around the corner of the yard, Aya searched for the

mauling wolves. Patches of grass had been torn up. Deep gouges

marred the dirt driveway. The evidence of a fight was laid out before

her, but there were no wolves. She drowned out the fire behind her

and listened.

Nothing. No yelps, barks, or whimpers.

Dead silence, except for the crackling flames that devoured the

days of her life from childhood until now. Her history, her memories,

were all being raked down by merciless claws of hell.

But where was Charles? Where did the wolves disappear to?

She jogged toward the Explorer. The hood of the vehicle had four

deep nail marks across it. The grill and bumper had a fresh, deep dent

where the wolves must have crashed against it.

Her heart leaped into overdrive.

“Charles!” she yelled.

More wood creaked and yawned. More glass shattered, and walls

crumbled, leaving her overheated body empty, cold. She spun in a

tight circle.

“Charles!”

“Go!”

Charles lunged out of the forest and slammed into her. She

stumbled to the Explorer with him at her back, trying to assess his

condition. Sweat, blood, and dirt stung her nose and left a sour taste in

the back of her mouth. He reached around her, yanked open the door,

and shoved her into the driver’s seat.

“Drive, and don’t stop,” he barked. Aya raised her gun. He

slammed the door with such force that the vehicle rocked on its

wheels. In a blink, he sprinted across the yard, toward the house.

“
No
!” Aya screamed.

The two wolves lunged out of the shadows of the forest and

chased after Charles. Her entire body shook as she watched the

spectacle. Horror clutched her spirit. Her uncle dove forward,

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Rhea Regale

transforming back into his wolf, gray fur melting into the tunneling

flames conquering the house. The two pursuing wolves followed

fearlessly into the inferno. Aya’s fingers trembled as she retrieved the

key from her jacket pocket. The keychain slid from her slick hand,

dropping to the floor. Her heart thundered in her chest and ears,

making her dizzy. She desperately felt around for the keys, found

them, and worked one into the ignition. Turning the engine over, she

drew her bottom lip between her teeth. The tangy taste of blood slid

over her tongue, anguish over her soul.

Her conscience screamed for her to help, while Charles’s demands

begged
her to leave. He wanted her to abandon him in his greatest

time of need.

How could she—

An explosion racked the truck. Deadly spears of debris rocketed

out from the house. She snapped the shifter into reverse and stomped

down on the accelerator. Fire balled into the sky like an ethereal

mushroom, stamping her vision with stars. She maneuvered the truck

through the tight line of trees. Thumps and plinks drew goose bumps

to the surface of her skin as pieces of her home slammed into the

Explorer. Something smacked into the windshield. The resounding

crackle of glass webbing scraped down her spine. Another projectile

tore off the right side mirror.

She reached the end of the driveway and jammed on the brake.

Nothing could calm the tremors coursing through her body. Nothing

could sooth the wide-open wound pouring grief from her heart. She

slowly turned to look back at her house, the only place she ever knew.

Twenty-six years of memories, gone. Stories, pictures, and home

videos, destroyed.

Charles, the only family she ever had, dead.

Her eyes remained dry of tears, her mind numbing to the tragedy

before her. Adrenaline continued to thrum through her, the powerful

reaction helping to keep her focused. She had to go; otherwise,

Charles would have given his life in vain. There would be time to

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15

mourn later.

Aya leaned over and opened the glove compartment. She found

the GPS unit, wrapped with the adapter wire, and plugged the adapter

into the cigarette lighter. The screen flashed on in vivid white. After

wiping her moist fingers on her damp pants, she scrolled through the

menu and brought up the programmed locations.

There was one, and the address would lead her out of Northern

California and into Oregon.

With a sigh, she attached the unit to the damaged windshield. Her

gaze drifted toward a flash from the tree line. Aya cracked open the

window and drew in a long, deep breath.
Wolf
. Her attention turned to

the creature as it slowly emerged from the dark forest. It stopped in

the center of the driveway, its sleek tawny coat seemingly absorbing

the glow from the fire.

Aya stilled. The wolf shifted and turned toward her. Its silverygold eyes focused on her. The creature was beautiful. Deadly. It

turned its snout up. Triangular ears pricked. Aya gasped out a breath,

unwilling to acknowledge the way her body reacted to the animal. She

warmed and weakened at the same time. Her breasts grew full and

heavy. Her womb coiled, excreting a different kind of moisture from

her core.

“You started the fire,” she whispered. The wolf cocked its head,

listening. Never once did its gaze lower from hers. It stared, stirring

strange feelings in her body. Feelings she despised.

Aya switched on the headlights. White washed over the wolf. Its

jowls pulled back, baring sharp, white teeth. She focused on the wolf

as she eased the Explorer onto the connecting side road. The instant

she knocked the gear into drive, she flicked the wolf her middle finger

and punched the accelerator. A new life awaited her in the wake of

burnt rubber, smoke, a pile of rubble, and the unknown.

16

Rhea Regale

Chapter Two

Nox glanced up from the pile of wood he’d agreed to bring inside

for Mase, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his

sleeve. The sun beat down on Wolf Creek this unusually warm fall

day, leaving a false sense of summer throughout the small town. He

couldn’t help but smile when he watched Mase’s two boys set up the

sprinkler and take to water games like summer had never ended.

The echo of tires crunching over gravel drew closer to his pack

mate’s bed-and-breakfast. Nox straightened up, shielding his

narrowed eyes against the blazing sun with his hand. He duly noted a

half-dozen members of his pack sitting on Mase’s front porch stop in

the midst of their numerous activities to watch the dark vehicle climb

up the windy street.

“Boys, go inside to your mother,” Nox called to the children.

They paused in their water fight and looked at him. He pointed to the

screen door and arched a brow. Even the pups knew better than to

cross the alpha. “Now.”

“Uncle Nox!” Ash whined. Nox pulled back his upper lip and

bared his human teeth. The boys’ shoulders slumped, and they

shuffled to the house. He dropped his hand from his forehead and

brushed the dirt on his faded jeans. He shook his head when he heard

the boys call him a “meanie uncle.”

Until he determined whether this rickety vehicle rapidly

approaching Mase’s homestead presented a danger, he’d lock those

kids in the basement if he had to.

“Hey, Nox,” Mase said, jogging up behind him. “Who’d you think

be coming up here? Can you smell anything? I’m getting a noseful of

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17

nasty.”

Nox’s nostrils flared as the poignant scents of burnt metal and

wood drifting along the uphill breeze struck him. He moved to the

side of the house, just behind the porch, and leaned against the

wooden slats, folding his arms over his chest.

“Smells more like that thing on four wheels trekked through a

damn welding shop,” he muttered. “Regardless where the truck’s

been, I’m not getting danger from this one. I’ll stay here. Go greet

your guest.” He chuckled, glancing at his dark-haired friend. Mase’s

green-gray eyes misted mischievously. “I’d be on your best behavior.

You can’t be callin’ this place a bed-and-breakfast if the only

occupants are your family and a few straggling pack mates. IRS will

be knocking on your door.”

“I’ll bite his hand.”

“I’m sure that’ll get you some dog treats.” Nox clapped Mase’s

thick shoulder. A loud pop split through the serene afternoon. He

growled as a residual ring lingered in his ears. Mase snorted, rubbing

at his temple. “I don’t think that piece of shit’ll make it to the front

door.”

Mase snickered a moment before what used to be an Explorer

stalled a few yards from the front porch. A whoosh preceded a heavy

cloud of white steam that poured from beneath the hood. Nox

swallowed back a laugh, but his fellow pack mates didn’t bother with

courtesy. Some howled, some cackled, and some just muttered

unfriendly terms to their cohorts. Hands slapped legs, feet stomped on

the porch, and one male tumbled off his chair.

Nox rolled off the wall and started back to the woodpile. The

hinges of the vehicle’s door shrieked in protest as the driver forced it

open, earning several snarls from the curious wolves.

Every muscle in his body stiffened. He stopped in mid-step and

inhaled the crisp mountain air, tainted by the foul odor of metal and

exhaust.

The sweetness that entwined through the less pleasant scents

18

Rhea Regale

stirred his wolf awake.

Well, I’ll be fuckin’ damned.

Nox slowly turned back to the driveway. He honed in on the raspy

breaths of this newcomer, the throb of her heart hammering against

her chest. His gaze landed on a woman stumbling over to Mase. Dirt,

blood, and soot smudged a face built over impeccable features. Her

bottom lip was swollen, a newly scabbed wound marring the tender

flesh and her soiled chin below. In fact, as he observed every inch of

her otherwise beautiful face, he noticed her skin housed a bunch of

small cuts and light purple bruises. Dark circles hung thick and deep

under sky blue eyes that flickered with wild paranoia. A dead leaf

hung in the wispy flips of her black hair. She cradled her left arm