arms streaked with blood. For a moment, she just stared. Then, taking a shaky breath, she pulled herself together again. They needed to get out of here quickly, before more of those soldiers came. The thought spurred her to move. Grabbing a clean tee, she ran into the bathroom to change and grab a few toiletries, then packed quickly.
Feral House is full of women, these days, the wolf said as she added the last items. Most of my brothers are married. If you forget anything, you can borrow it.
Married werewolves. Her head was going to explode. “How many of you are there?”
One wolf shifter. More than a dozen other Ferals . . . shifters . . . each of whom shifts into a different animal. I’ll explain more later.
So not werewolves. Not exactly.
She zipped the suitcase, then grabbed the flashlight off the bottom shelf of her nightstand, deciding the lower light would attract less attention. Turning to the wolf, the shape-shifter, she said, “I’m ready.”
He rose and trotted to the stairs.
“I’m going to need my purse. It’s on the desk in the kitchen.” She really wanted her laptop, too, but she was afraid the rain would destroy it.
I’ll get the purse and your phone. Grab a raincoat. It’s pouring.
The wolf ran down the stairs ahead of her as the wind and rain blew in through the open front door. By the time Natalie snatched her raincoat out of the coat closet and pulled it on, her pants were already damp. As she turned her back to the buffeting wind to zip up the raincoat, she made the mistake of glancing toward the family room just as another bolt of lightning illuminated the house. Bodies . . . body parts . . . lay everywhere, blood streaking the walls and soaking the carpeting. The sight burned her eyes and made the bile rise in her throat. Swallowing it back down, she spun away.
Her house was ruined. Her life was in shambles. But Xavier might still be alive. The thought raced through her like a live wire, filling her with hope and excitement, strengthening her against all she’d lost. Because if she could really see him again, if she truly found him safe and well, none of this mattered. None of it.
Straightening, she pulled up her hood and waited. A moment later, the wolf returned with her purse dangling from his mouth. She took it from him, slung it over her shoulder, and braced herself against the wind as she stepped through the wreckage of the front door and into the driving rain. Without a backward glance, the wolf at her side, Natalie left everything she knew behind.
Chapter Five
A s Natalie followed the massive gray wolf around the corner of her house, through her backyard, and into the woods, the wind buffeted her, dragging at the hood of her raincoat. She clung to her suitcase with one hand, her flashlight with the other.
Her hand shook as she struggled to assimilate all that had happened. How was any of this real?
“Do you have a name?” she asked the huge animal, desperate for any pretence of normalcy.
You already guessed it. I’m Wulfe, spelled W-U-L-F-E. All the Ferals, the shape-shifters, have taken the names of our animals. It’s tradition.
“You’re the only wolf.” Twigs snapped under her soles, the leaves torn free of the trees flying and swirling around her. The woods smelled of rain and damp fur this night.
Yes. The others include a tiger, hawk, lion, jaguar, cougar, panther, fox, snake, and falcon. There aren’t many of us anymore. Maybe as many as twenty-six, but that’s it. We’re Therians, a race that used to be all shape-shifters. Five thousand years ago, we were forced to mortgage most of our power to defeat and imprison Satanan and his Daemon horde. When the dust settled, one member each of only a fraction of the animal lines reclaimed the power of their animal and the ability to shift. They banded together and became known as the Feral Warriors, the defenders of the race and the protectors of the Daemon Blade, in which Satanan and his horde are
Feral House is full of women, these days, the wolf said as she added the last items. Most of my brothers are married. If you forget anything, you can borrow it.
Married werewolves. Her head was going to explode. “How many of you are there?”
One wolf shifter. More than a dozen other Ferals . . . shifters . . . each of whom shifts into a different animal. I’ll explain more later.
So not werewolves. Not exactly.
She zipped the suitcase, then grabbed the flashlight off the bottom shelf of her nightstand, deciding the lower light would attract less attention. Turning to the wolf, the shape-shifter, she said, “I’m ready.”
He rose and trotted to the stairs.
“I’m going to need my purse. It’s on the desk in the kitchen.” She really wanted her laptop, too, but she was afraid the rain would destroy it.
I’ll get the purse and your phone. Grab a raincoat. It’s pouring.
The wolf ran down the stairs ahead of her as the wind and rain blew in through the open front door. By the time Natalie snatched her raincoat out of the coat closet and pulled it on, her pants were already damp. As she turned her back to the buffeting wind to zip up the raincoat, she made the mistake of glancing toward the family room just as another bolt of lightning illuminated the house. Bodies . . . body parts . . . lay everywhere, blood streaking the walls and soaking the carpeting. The sight burned her eyes and made the bile rise in her throat. Swallowing it back down, she spun away.
Her house was ruined. Her life was in shambles. But Xavier might still be alive. The thought raced through her like a live wire, filling her with hope and excitement, strengthening her against all she’d lost. Because if she could really see him again, if she truly found him safe and well, none of this mattered. None of it.
Straightening, she pulled up her hood and waited. A moment later, the wolf returned with her purse dangling from his mouth. She took it from him, slung it over her shoulder, and braced herself against the wind as she stepped through the wreckage of the front door and into the driving rain. Without a backward glance, the wolf at her side, Natalie left everything she knew behind.
Chapter Five
A s Natalie followed the massive gray wolf around the corner of her house, through her backyard, and into the woods, the wind buffeted her, dragging at the hood of her raincoat. She clung to her suitcase with one hand, her flashlight with the other.
Her hand shook as she struggled to assimilate all that had happened. How was any of this real?
“Do you have a name?” she asked the huge animal, desperate for any pretence of normalcy.
You already guessed it. I’m Wulfe, spelled W-U-L-F-E. All the Ferals, the shape-shifters, have taken the names of our animals. It’s tradition.
“You’re the only wolf.” Twigs snapped under her soles, the leaves torn free of the trees flying and swirling around her. The woods smelled of rain and damp fur this night.
Yes. The others include a tiger, hawk, lion, jaguar, cougar, panther, fox, snake, and falcon. There aren’t many of us anymore. Maybe as many as twenty-six, but that’s it. We’re Therians, a race that used to be all shape-shifters. Five thousand years ago, we were forced to mortgage most of our power to defeat and imprison Satanan and his Daemon horde. When the dust settled, one member each of only a fraction of the animal lines reclaimed the power of their animal and the ability to shift. They banded together and became known as the Feral Warriors, the defenders of the race and the protectors of the Daemon Blade, in which Satanan and his horde are
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