Lone Wolf (The Wulf Pack Book 1)

Stepping out of the shower, the steam coming off her, now red skin, made her sigh. She had never felt so clean and relaxed. For the first time in a very long time she felt real, like she wasn’t just a punching bag for others.

Opening the bathroom door, she stepped into the main room. An unfamiliar feminine smell lingered in the air as if she had just missed the person.

She pulled the fluffy white towel tighter around her as she moved about, following the scent to a small pile of clothes placed on the half-moon table near the door.

Grabbing a pair of jeans and a one of the two t-shirts, she pulled them on, squirming slightly at the lack of underwear.

She slipped on a sweater before she wrapping the towel around her hair and rustled it in a quick damp dry.

Once the towel was returned to it’s rack, she moved about the place, looking into each door, each closet, even each cabinet, investing everything. She had never had so may places to store things, she didn’t even know what to put in any of the places, she had never owned enough clothes to fill the closet even halfway, or the mahogany dresser set against the wall at the foot of the bed.

Everything was so bright and clean, the bed was covered in white fabrics, each so white she worried that she would dirty them as soon as she touched them.

The carpet covering nearly the whole of the place was cream and plush, as pristine as the day it was layed. The tan furniture in the sitting area was positioned to face what she noticed, upon close look, was a built-in fireplace that sat below a wall mounted television.

She was looking at the shelves built into the sides of the fireplace, when a knock sounded on the door. Before she had a chance to make a sound or move, the door opened to reveal Fury, his hair stuck up in different directions, as if he had been running his hand through it repeatedly.

“I brought you some food,” he said simply, stepping into the room and placing a plate of steaming food onto the table.

“Thank you,” she whispered, shyly as she moved away from the sitting area. He shrugged, watching as she moved closer.

He noticed that she had a way of walking that seemed almost soundless. Her body seemed cautious with each step as if she was waiting for it to hurt. Somehow she made it look natural, fluid, almost seductive. He knew though, that she had no idea about any of that, to her it was just the way she walked.

She sat down in the wood chair, gripping the fork in her hand as her stomach twisted. How long had it been since she ate? She couldn’t remember.

The food before her smelled amazing, and tasted just as much. She held back a moan as she took the first bite, ignoring the cramp in her belly that protested.

Fury stood silently as she ate, nearly inhaling the food. He internally cursed himself and his brother for not feeding her sooner.

“How long has it been since you ate?” He asked, making his way for the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water.

“Three... no maybe five... I’m not sure,” Fury frowned at her words, her head bowed in a shameful manner.

“Well we won’t let you go hungry here,” he set the bottle down next to her plate, before taking one of the chair.

They were both silent, caught in their own thoughts.

“Well, it’s late, you should get some sleep,” he stood, grabbing the plate off of the table, “I’ll stop by in the morning and show you around the castle,”

He tore his eyes from her shining, hopeful, ones and headed to the door.

“Goodnight Willow,”

Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

Rage moved through the forest, not a single scent of wolf. Hours of searching and not a single sign of this pack.

He was getting a bit angry. He knew it was here, he just couldn’t find it.

Sitting down in a huff, he took in his surroundings, listening to the wildlife, the wind cause the thick foliage to flicker and...

The wind carried with it, the scent of wolves, multiple wolves, enough to be a pack.

His lips pulled into a wolfish grin as he headed for the scent, staying upwind as the breeze drew him a path right to his destination.

He paused as he heard them, the sounds of children playing was the first, the talking of three females was the second. Looking around him and smiled again as his eyes fell on just what he was looking for.

He quietly moved toward the brush, the pungent plant that lay tall and untended, seemed to grow in abundance around this pack. He dropped down, rolling in the plant, covering himself in the skunk like smell that would mask him from the pack.

Pushing himself up, he moved closer to the edge of the clearing. Finding the perfect, shadowed spot between two large bushes, flanked by large trees, where he positioned himself. His dark body blended with the shadows as he lay with his head between the bushes, watching the pack before him.

The sun gave a clear view of the members movements, there were a lot more than he thought to be in this back-woods-redneck pack. Many rundown “shack” like houses were scattered among the clearing, a small garden growing the the center in an attempt to get as much sunlight as possible throughout the day, but it was the large dilapidated building that drew Rage’s attention.

The building was too small to be considered a house. Rage doubted that there was more than two or three bedrooms in there, maybe there were barracks in there, making room to house multiple people.

Rage shook his head at the thought, a pack so rundown that it couldn’t accommodate the amount of pack members, forcing many of them to stay in the dirty, shack that’s roof was missing shingles, the door hung on a slight angle that caused it to need to be pulled up before closing. There was no way he would let anyone live this way, his family would tear this Alpha apart from just seeing the conditions they lived in.

Rage wasn’t here for that, his goal was indeed to kill the alpha, but not for the pack, he was there for retribution. He would kill the alpha for Willow, for everything he allowed to happen to her.

Just the thought of the Alpha’s blood coating his muzzle made him smirk in pleasure. He was going to enjoy each and every torturous move he would make, the metallic liquid causing his hands to become sticky with every hit, every claw. Rage let out a purring sound as he licked his joules just thinking of what he was going to do.

Forcing the thoughts away he hunkered down, waiting and watching, observing everything in the clearing. Calculating his moves, observing each move made, strategically forging a plan. This is what he was best at. This is what his father trained him for. What his job was in the pack. To kill with minimal damage. To assassinate Alphas. And he enjoyed it.