Read Online Midnight Whispers - Paranormal Romance by Catherine Bullard - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Bullard
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suspenders and a white cotton
shirt. His customary straw hat was missing so that his shaggy blond hair
gleamed in the sunlight, and her heart sank. How had she allowed her thoughts
about Bryce to consume her so utterly that she’d discounted him?
“Hi,
Jake.” She forced a smile.
“I came
by yesterday afternoon to find out that you weren’t feeling well and not up to
taking visitors. Now today, you’re looking just fine. I’m so glad to see that
you’re well.” He grinned, but she saw the glimmer of hurt in his eyes. “I was
wondering if I’d scared you off.”
Kyra wondered
why her Aunt had told him she was in bed rather than out, but decided that was
something she could worry about later. “I really wasn’t well yesterday, Jake,”
she told him, placing a soothing hand on his arm. “I wasn’t trying to avoid
you.”
“Well, that’s
always good to hear.” Jake grinned again. “I was worried that maybe I had said
something to offend you.”
Kyra shook
her head, smiling. “Never.”
“Well, since
I’ve caught you now, are you feeling up for a ride?” Jake asked.
Kyra
contained a sigh, unbelievably conflicted. She had promised Bryce she would
come to see him today, but she didn’t want to hurt Jake or make him feel
rejected, especially when he had been obviously on the lookout for her. Besides,
horseback riding did seem quite a bit more appealing than going back to
the shifter village. A shudder ran through her as she remembered leaving
yesterday—she’d held her head high amid the stares and whispers even
though her body wanted to cower and curl up to get away from them. Even though
Bryce had assured her safety, they still made her incredibly nervous. After
all, they were predators.
“Kyra?”
Snapping
herself out of it, she gave him a dazzling smile. “I’d love to, Jake.”
****
Creeping
through the forest, they used no torches, no candles, blending with the
darkness in order to become one with the night. Though they were silent, the
night was not, and he gritted his teeth at the sound of howls pealing through
the air—the beasts were out, and as usual, they wanted blood.
He knew
they were not normal creatures, though regular wolves were bad
enough—they picked off sheep from the nearby flocks and caused general
mayhem. But these were something more—the uncanny intelligence in their
eyes and the way they communicated were proof of that. Not to mention the one
night he’d been alone, simply enjoying a walk, and he’d watched from the cover
of the bushes as one had changed into a man right before his eyes.
No, these
creatures were not protected by God. They were just another spawn of the Devil,
and as such they needed to be destroyed.
Of course,
when wearing the skin of wolves they traveled in packs, which made it
difficult. Their keen noses could scent an enemy or prey from afar, and they
had to be very careful that they stayed downwind. And though they picked off
the demons using long-range weapons, they often found that precaution to be not
enough as the wolves were fast, much faster than humans.
Not a sound, he
mouthed to his fellow hunters as they got into position at the edge of a
clearing. Sure enough, the demon-wolves were right on schedule, singing their
terrible song of death as they emerged out into the open. Smiling tightly, he
readied his crossbow, and soon the air filled with his preferred brand of
music—the sound of bolts and arrows singing through the air, and the
death howls that followed.
They
felled several of the wolves before the beasts caught onto their position and
charged. Cursing, he and his men switched to close quarter weapons, but rather
than staying to fight they turned and ran, knowing they would at least have a
bit of a head start. Heart racing, he zigzagged through the trees as he and his
men had practiced—it forced the wolves to go slower and gave them a
better chance at escaping the edge of the trees unharmed. The wolves never
shirt. His customary straw hat was missing so that his shaggy blond hair
gleamed in the sunlight, and her heart sank. How had she allowed her thoughts
about Bryce to consume her so utterly that she’d discounted him?
“Hi,
Jake.” She forced a smile.
“I came
by yesterday afternoon to find out that you weren’t feeling well and not up to
taking visitors. Now today, you’re looking just fine. I’m so glad to see that
you’re well.” He grinned, but she saw the glimmer of hurt in his eyes. “I was
wondering if I’d scared you off.”
Kyra wondered
why her Aunt had told him she was in bed rather than out, but decided that was
something she could worry about later. “I really wasn’t well yesterday, Jake,”
she told him, placing a soothing hand on his arm. “I wasn’t trying to avoid
you.”
“Well, that’s
always good to hear.” Jake grinned again. “I was worried that maybe I had said
something to offend you.”
Kyra shook
her head, smiling. “Never.”
“Well, since
I’ve caught you now, are you feeling up for a ride?” Jake asked.
Kyra
contained a sigh, unbelievably conflicted. She had promised Bryce she would
come to see him today, but she didn’t want to hurt Jake or make him feel
rejected, especially when he had been obviously on the lookout for her. Besides,
horseback riding did seem quite a bit more appealing than going back to
the shifter village. A shudder ran through her as she remembered leaving
yesterday—she’d held her head high amid the stares and whispers even
though her body wanted to cower and curl up to get away from them. Even though
Bryce had assured her safety, they still made her incredibly nervous. After
all, they were predators.
“Kyra?”
Snapping
herself out of it, she gave him a dazzling smile. “I’d love to, Jake.”
****
Creeping
through the forest, they used no torches, no candles, blending with the
darkness in order to become one with the night. Though they were silent, the
night was not, and he gritted his teeth at the sound of howls pealing through
the air—the beasts were out, and as usual, they wanted blood.
He knew
they were not normal creatures, though regular wolves were bad
enough—they picked off sheep from the nearby flocks and caused general
mayhem. But these were something more—the uncanny intelligence in their
eyes and the way they communicated were proof of that. Not to mention the one
night he’d been alone, simply enjoying a walk, and he’d watched from the cover
of the bushes as one had changed into a man right before his eyes.
No, these
creatures were not protected by God. They were just another spawn of the Devil,
and as such they needed to be destroyed.
Of course,
when wearing the skin of wolves they traveled in packs, which made it
difficult. Their keen noses could scent an enemy or prey from afar, and they
had to be very careful that they stayed downwind. And though they picked off
the demons using long-range weapons, they often found that precaution to be not
enough as the wolves were fast, much faster than humans.
Not a sound, he
mouthed to his fellow hunters as they got into position at the edge of a
clearing. Sure enough, the demon-wolves were right on schedule, singing their
terrible song of death as they emerged out into the open. Smiling tightly, he
readied his crossbow, and soon the air filled with his preferred brand of
music—the sound of bolts and arrows singing through the air, and the
death howls that followed.
They
felled several of the wolves before the beasts caught onto their position and
charged. Cursing, he and his men switched to close quarter weapons, but rather
than staying to fight they turned and ran, knowing they would at least have a
bit of a head start. Heart racing, he zigzagged through the trees as he and his
men had practiced—it forced the wolves to go slower and gave them a
better chance at escaping the edge of the trees unharmed. The wolves never
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