Wolf Slayer (The Order of the Wolf)

She would have made his next breath his last, if he hadn’t stolen hers.

Order of the Wolf, Book 2

Aubrey Devlin thought she had a destiny—to become a Huntress, be mated to a Hunter, and spend her life in everlasting, werewolf ass-kicking bliss. But after years of honing her wolf-slaying skills, it’s her twin sister who’s chosen for the coveted honor.

Swallowing her disappointment, she takes a job as head of security for the band Riot. Staying professional is tough when it comes to the band’s sex-god bassist, an alpha bad-boy to the extreme. She
will
keep her mind on her work—as soon as she figures out how to stop drooling over the man.

Jaylon isn’t good with women—especially those with the ability to kill him—yet he knows without a doubt Aubrey is his mate. Now if only he can get the stubborn woman to fall for him.

One argument too many, and instead of clawing each other’s eyes out, they wind up clawing each other’s clothes off. It’s then that Jaylon realizes the truth: Aubrey is a true Huntress. He’d better find a way to claim his mate before a Hunter claims her first…

Warning: Sexually explicit (like ripping-clothes-off, sex-in-public-places explicit) language. Rock-star bad-ass with long hair and a wicked bite. A take-no-crap huntress who bites back. You are encouraged to lick, suck, and devour your way through this tasty treat in one sitting—just be aware you might be hungry for more.

Wolf Slayer

Angela Addams

Dedication

As if one contract wasn’t good enough, my fabulous editor, Holly Atkinson, went ahead and offered me another. Thanks, Holly, for believing in my stories enough to go round two with me. Once again, I’m going to thank my amazing beta readers, Dianne Waye and Tammy Crosby who aren’t scared to tell it like it is and whip me into shape when I need it. And thank you to my husband and kids for putting up with my one-track mind where writing is concerned.

Prologue

“Corra Devlin, I am your Hunter.”

The man who spoke was large, muscular and tall. From Aubrey’s view, the image of strength was amplified. She rested on her knees, as did her parents, paying homage to one of the great Hunters. She stared up at him, in awe of this almost mystical creature. She and her sister had only ever heard the stories—folklore. He wore his Hunter mark on his wrist: a magical tattoo that appeared on the chosen ones, a wolf to symbolize his destiny as a companion to the wolf slayer. Aubrey would have pinched herself if she wasn’t so numb with shock. A Hunter had come to claim Corra. A dream come true for her sister. It was surreal.

She was also trying very hard at that moment not to laugh. This Hunter—he wasn’t exactly what she and her sister had imagined. He was, well, a little on the medieval side. Like old school romance novel hero style with long flowing hair and a very chiseled face. Attractive, oh yes, but almost too much so. Aubrey expected at any moment for him to flip his hair back, then heave Corra into the cradle of his arms and carry her off to his awaiting horse or something. Aubrey gulped down another laugh and glanced at her sister.

Corra looked like she was ready to drop, her legs trembling so much that Aubrey wanted to reach out and steady her twin so she didn’t make an ass of herself. She wanted to but didn’t, distracted suddenly by the other two Hunters who entered the room. All of her joking thoughts were pushed aside as hope surged. Was one of them there to claim Aubrey as well?

“I’ve been chosen,” Corra whispered, her gaze drifting down to lock with Aubrey’s before snapping back to meet that of her destined mate.

“You are a Huntress of the Order of the Wolf. I come to you with my vow to honor, protect and fight alongside you,” Corra’s Hunter said.

“And my sister?” Corra asked, her words hedged with doubt, her brow suddenly furrowed.

The Hunter shook his head, refusing to meet Aubrey’s gaze. “I’m sorry, not this time.”

In a flash, shame burned Aubrey’s cheeks. His words like a slap to the face.
I’m sorry, not this time.

Not chosen. Not a Huntress. Not a wolf slayer.

“Perhaps another year,” the Hunter offered, his tone holding no conviction.

Everyone knew there was no merit to his hopeful offer. Aubrey and Corra were already older than most who had been chosen. At least, according to legend anyway. It was only after a Hunter reached peak power that he had the ability to seek out his mate. The woman who would fight the beasts alongside him. In some cases, he was driven toward her like a magnet seeking its counterpart, ready to share all that he had with her, transforming her into a Huntress once they’d bonded.

“But we’ve both been training our whole lives,” Corra argued, her fiery temper showing itself in the blush on her cheeks, the flare in her eyes, the clenching of her fists. Aubrey had seen it a million times before. Corra was gonna go ballistic in a matter of seconds. Always the petulant child deep down, determined to get her way at all costs. It was what made her a good warrior. She never gave up.

Their mother gasped, reaching out a hand as if to stifle Corra’s defiance and tugging on her jeans like that would stop the torrent. “Sh-h-h-h, Corra, what is meant to be will be.”

“Not without my sister.”

The Hunter smiled indulgently, motioning for their mother to ease back. In a flash of movement, he had Corra in his arms, lifting her to her tiptoes so they were chest-to-chest, gazes locked. “You are mine, Corra Devlin.” And like a snake, he struck…but not with venom, even though his kiss might as well have been full of poison.

Aubrey watched as her sister’s body went languid, like she was suddenly melting into the man. When Corra reached her hands up to thread through the Hunter’s curly brown mane, Aubrey knew all was lost. There was no sister bond on the face of the planet that could trump the connection between Hunter and Huntress.

Silent tears slid down her cheeks—unstoppable, uncontrolled. The other half of her heart shred right before her eyes.

Chapter One

Aubrey slammed open the screen door and barreled into the crisp autumn air. Cool enough for her breath to frost, to sting her eyes and make them water. Yeah right—that was what she was telling herself anyway. She wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of a gloved hand.

You’re crying because it’s cold outside, not because your sister has just left you forever.

With a deep shuddering breath, Aubrey sucked back her emotions as best she could. The pain—no—the agony of her loss so profound she almost didn’t want to live. Because what was the point of living if you didn’t have a purpose? And as of this moment, Aubrey was purposeless.

She scanned the tree line surrounding her family’s quaint cottage home and felt hedged in, claustrophobic. Trapped.

“Ugh. Stop being such a baby.” She wiped her cheeks again, steeling herself as she checked her equipment. Blade sheathed against her thigh, bow slung on her shoulder, quiver at her hip chock-full of arrows. A few hours of training.
Perfect.
She’d lose herself in target practice.

Target practice for what?

With an angry grunt, she pushed that thought away, locking it up with any wayward memories of her sister. The one the Hunters had chosen. The one who would soon claim her destined role as a wolf slayer. Always Corra.

Okay. Enough.
It wasn’t her sister’s fault. It was destiny, fate, DNA, whatever. Everyone assumed that just because they were twins, they’d both be called forth.

“But everyone was wrong,” she mumbled.

So very wrong, and the looks of pity were almost too much for Aubrey to bear.

She turned her back on her home and moved stealthily through the forest, eager to get to the clearing where she spent most of her afternoons. Her parents had left with her sister the night before, not long after the small team of Hunters had descended on their cottage in search of their newest Huntress.

Pain ripped through Aubrey’s chest once again, her efforts to thwart those devastating thoughts ineffective. The Hunters had come for Corra but not for her. And although they’d welcomed Aubrey to join them at the Order compound for a mating ceremony, she just couldn’t bear to go, not when it wasn’t her own fate to become a Huntress. That was asking too much.

As she burst into the clearing, her troubled thoughts vanished.
Deep breaths
. She closed her eyes, and with expertise that came with a lifetime of training, nocked an arrow and drew the bow back. The brief contact with the string came as a familiar caress before she let the arrow fly.

The
thunk
of a successful hit was peace for her. She opened her eyes and saw her arrow embedded in the bulls-eye of a target. Perfect shot. Those Hunters didn’t know what they’d given up. She was every bit the Amazon woman, even if she wasn’t chosen as a Huntress. She was still a descendant of the ancient breed of Amazon warriors. Some part of her DNA had the marking, even if it forever remained dormant.

It took her mere minutes to dispatch the crudely-made beastly targets—animal skin monstrosities wrapped around a wooden skeleton and stuffed with hay. Not as effective as the real thing but without a Hunter, she would never know the feeling of hitting a true target and killing an actual living, breathing werewolf. It wasn’t her destiny. So now what?

She tapped an arrow against her thigh. “Suck it up.” She could still do some good, right? There had to be a place for her somewhere. Maybe in law enforcement? She was proficient in martial arts and had extensive weapons training—she was a powerhouse of deadly expertise… For a human…who was trained to battle werewolves.
Fuck.

She slung her bow over her shoulder and started the trek to retrieve her arrows. Another few hours of practice and she’d go for a run or something, blow off as much steam as possible so that maybe she’d be able to get some sleep. Her fits of anger, frustration and self-pity had kept her up most of the night and she was drained, but damn if her whirling mind wouldn’t let her shut down and escape into oblivion.

One by one, she yanked the arrows out and slid them into her quiver, the sun warming the top of her head and back, the crispness of the morning air finally melting away as noon approached. She took in a deep breath, inhaling the perfume of evergreens and autumn grass, and tilted her face up to catch some rays. The birds were silent—the only sound the rustle of leaves as the occasional breeze blew them from their lofty homes. She loved this place; she loved this time of year. She didn’t really want to leave her home anyway. She could make a life without the Hunters. All was not lost.

The sun soaked into her skin and suddenly she felt like her world was not coming to an abrupt and devastating stop. Her purpose for living did not walk out the door with her sister. It just changed.

Okay. I can do this.
She sighed deeply, reveling in the sanctity of her surroundings.

The birds were unnaturally quiet, their usual twittering her music in the mornings. The rustling of the leaves grew louder to her left. A branch cracked and made her whip her head down, her eyes wide, fingers curled around an arrow. The hairs on the back of her neck snapped to attention. She slid her bow from her shoulder before silently nocking the arrow. Scanning the tree line for movement, she took a few steps forward, and then froze mid-step.

A huge white wolf emerged from the brush, its black eyes narrowed, fangs bared, saliva dripping.

“Oh fuck.”

Every nerve in her body told her to run but her brain kept her feet firmly planted. This was no ordinary wolf.

“She’s gone.” Aubrey steadied her voice, knowing the beast would understand simple conversation if she spoke clearly. “I’m not a Huntress.”

Common sense screamed for flight, her instinct held her still. Running would only get her killed faster. The wolf lowered his muzzle and snorted. She didn’t know what that meant, but guessed it wasn’t good. Where there was one wolf, a pack usually followed. She raised her hands and let the arrow slide from her grip, the bow swinging loosely on her fingers. “I’m not a Huntress,” she repeated as she took a step backward.

The wolf growled and she froze.
Baby steps. Baby steps.

“I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

The wolf growled again, low and long, an eerie call to the pack that made Aubrey’s body vibrate with a mixture of fear and anger. The beast lowered its muzzle further, shoulders hunched as it took a few steps in her direction. She mirrored its movement, one step back for every step it made toward her. She’d seen this behavior in real wolves. She was being stalked, taunted. It wanted to chase her and she was just about ready to give into her fear and take off.

“You stupid beast, I’m not a Huntress!”

The wolf paused and Aubrey let go a held breath. Her moment of relief dissolving as the wolf reared back, gearing up to launch. She pivoted away and drew her blade from its sheath. Time to level the playing field. Shifting her arm out, ready to launch her steel, she spun back, only to be shoved aside in a flurry of fur. A second wolf barreled into the first, a massive brown beast taking the white one in the flank, sending Aubrey careening backward until she landed on her ass.

Snarls, growls, saliva went flying. Confusion rocked through Aubrey, stunning her into a dumbfounded paralysis as she watched the wolves battle.
What the fuck?

She scanned the tree line again in disbelief. Surely, this was a joke. The beasts didn’t attack one another, especially if they were from the same pack—not over a human. At least, that was what the stories said.

Blood smacked against her cheek as the second wolf ripped a chunk of flesh from the first. Aubrey snapped out of her dangerous trance.

She pushed herself to her feet and beelined for her bow—which had fallen a few feet away—nocked an arrow and let it fly. She hit the big white beast through the chest and dropped it. Not a fatal wound, as only a Huntress could deliver a killing blow to a werewolf, but it would slow the fucker down. She nocked another arrow and aimed for the big brown wolf, but just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he was gone, vanishing into the forest like a ghost.

With shaking hands, she released the tension on the string and lowered her weapon, the usual forest sounds making her jump. With one last glance at the white wolf that still lay motionless on the forest floor, Aubrey tore off. She needed to warn her parents not to come home.

The wolves were after her sister, thinking that she was still living at the cottage—one step behind the Hunters, as usual, but deadly all the same.