His Wolf (Wolf of My Heart)

Prologue

I was pretty sure I was Steven Yarbrough's best keep secret. Oh, his south Texas pack knew I existed, all right, but to them, I was just a female voice on the phone. No one had a clue that I'd been bitten, too, and was actually more than the personal assistant of a sadistic Alpha who turned kidnapped teens into werewolves. I was actually a member of their pack. Was I scared to be so alone in a man's world?
Of course.
Yarbrough could've done anything to me without repercussion and actually tried, if I was honest about it. But he never succeeded beyond that one life-changing bite. I was simply too smart and fast for him.

So for the past eighteen months, I'd been a prisoner in his lake house, forced to take care of the endless details required to manage a pack of lawless
Weres
. Why didn't I make a run for it? Logistically speaking, maybe I could've. Yarbrough left me alone sometimes. But there were always guards outside and after trying and failing a few times in the first weeks, I was told that my dad would die if I did it again. I'd seen way too much evidence of the gang's brutal handiwork to doubt that. So I began living one day at a time, surviving because I was strong, sharp, and sensible. My quirky sense of humor kept me going, too, especially after The Big Bite four months ago. From that moment on, everything was simply too surreal to freak about.

But that was then.

One week ago to the day, January 8th, my life had abruptly changed. Two men from a supernatural organization called the
Corteggio
dropped out of the blue, I suspected literally, and arrested Yarbrough. As a result, he was already rotting in a deep dark dungeon somewhere. And then just yesterday, the same guys loaded the teens in his Houston pack onto a chartered bus headed to Birmingham, where a witch named
Andee
Rivera supposedly waited to cure them of their
canis
lupus
affliction.

Why wasn't I with them?
Yet another bizarre twist.
Though I definitely wasn't a secret from these all-knowing men in black, there was still a problem. Apparently I was one of the
Tuatha
de
Danaan
or "Children of Danu," which meant witch
Andee's
healing magic wouldn't work on me just as it didn't work on Native Americans or other mystical groups.
Naturally I
Googled
the term
.
I found out that it referred to descendants of the Irish Goddess Danu, the most ancient of all Celtic deities.

Who knew, right?

For that reason the
Corteggio
reps asked me sign a contract stating I'd broken all ties with Yarbrough's organization,
le bras du
loup
,
and would never shift to commit a crime, never reveal the secret of my duality, and never compromise the other mysteries of the preternatural world. Did I sign on the dotted line? Hell, yeah.
Was I now headed home? That would be a no.

Though my dad believed in the devil, a holy ghost, and angels, I suspected that
Weres
would still be too big a stretch for him. Besides, according to the Missouri State University newspaper, which I frequently accessed online, he'd just remarried. And while I didn't hold that against him--he'd been a widower for ten years, after all--I didn't want to rock his newfound happiness with my preternatural issues. Dad thought I was dead. There'd even been a memorial service. He was right to move on, and it was right for me to, as well, only in a different direction.

Was that the coward's way out? 
Too right.
  But at the moment I just didn't have the courage or energy to deal with my father. So I now headed north in an old black pickup truck I'd stolen from Yarbrough because I had no idea what had happened to my car. In the passenger seat
lay
a bag that held my gear plus some things I'd taken from my ex-Alpha's house. Did I feel guilty for stealing from the jerk? Not one bit. Yarbrough hadn't kidnapped just any old girl. He'd kidnapped me, Bronte
Hannigan
, the girl who'd just completed a year of computer classes at Missouri State with a 4.0. In other words, I'd had skills, and he'd shamelessly misused them.

To my way of thinking, he owed me big time.

And he didn't need his stuff where he was now anyway.

Chapter One

The Ozark Mountains were so gorgeous in winter. What I could still see of the hills and dales, the woods, and even the snowflakes in my headlights looked a little too perfect to be real. Almost like a Christmas card, in fact. And though it was getting dark early because of the blizzard, I definitely enjoyed the scenery, which reminded me of my parents.

It had long been a
Hannigan
tradition to rent a cabin on
Tablerock
Lake after Christmas when the tourists went home. I'd liked it best when the weather surprised us. There was nothing as cozy as being iced in. Mom, Dad and I spent hours in front of the fireplace reading to each other or maybe eating cookies we'd baked. Once Mom died, Dad and I kept up the tradition. Just thinking of those days made my eyes fill, but I didn't cry even though it would've been easy to. I loathed self-pity and couldn't abide a victim mentality. That meant I had to keep my chin up and have faith in my recent choices, some of which might be questionable, all of which had been made out of necessity.

Though my wipers swished in time, I still strained to see what lay ahead. I'd been on the road since 4:00 that Saturday morning and really needed a break. But I was only fifteen or so miles from Branson now; I wanted to push through before it got completely dark. Why head to Missouri when I should've gone anywhere else? I loved my home state. In fact, I'd have reenrolled at
MSU
if my Dad hadn't taught world literature there. But I couldn't risk a chance encounter with him, which was why I'd decided to settle somewhere close by, instead.

I planned to check into a motel well off the busy Branson strip and take a little
vacay
while I figured out what to do for the rest of my days. The petty cash I'd stolen from Yarbrough wouldn't last long; I'd need a job pretty quick. I figured if I wasn't too picky, I'd be able to find something. I also needed to replace my driver's license and Social Security card since Yarbrough had left behind more than just my car when he kidnapped me. 

What a joy it was to be free again. My whole life stretched before me, as empty as the two-lane I now maneuvered with a white-knuckled grip…and no wonder. Instead of shoulders, this stretch of highway had bottomless ravines I had no wish to explore. So my gaze constantly darted from side to side and from windshield to rearview mirror. I saw distant lights to my right every now and then. Houses in the wooded valleys, I guessed, but
no other cars until headlights suddenly lit up the mirror. I saw a vehicle, coming up fast behind me. The driver was nothing but nuts or maybe drunk to be speeding in such conditions.

Lights in the driver's side mirror blinded me seconds later. The man driving that car--no woman was that stupid--was actually going to pass me on a double yellow with a curve ahead. I held my breath for that fool of a driver, certain he was about to have a head-on crash with a vehicle we couldn't see yet. But instead of zipping around as he should've done, the idiot kept pace. Did the guy have a death wish? I risked a peek, but couldn't see who was at the wheel of that dark SUV. Between the falling snow and the ice caked on my window it was simply impossible.

Somehow we both survived the curve without incident. Breathless and terrified, I again waited for him to speed up and pass me, but he still didn't. Oncoming headlights abruptly popped into view. Definitely a big rig that would kill us both if we met it on that curve. Naturally I did what any sane person would do--brake so the maniac to my left could cut in front of me. He waited until the last minute, just missing a head-on collision with the truck as he changed lanes and solidly clipped my left front fender.