Pride's Run (26 page)

“Logan,” I murmur under my breath as our
glances collide.

He dips his head and wets his mouth and I
know he’s going to kiss me. “Yes,” he whispers in the softest
voice.

I part my lips, welcoming his mouth to mine.
“I think it’s a great name. It suits you.”

“So does yours.”

As his lips settle firmly on mine, I don’t
refute because I know Logan is the only wolf—the only boy—who knows
me well enough to say that.

Well, with the exception of Stone, maybe.

# # #

Don’t miss Cat’s next exciting story,
PRIDE UNLEASHED,
coming early 2012.

Seeking revenge on her cruel master, Pride is
headed back to the compound. She’ll stop at nothing to free the
enslaved wolves still caged in the estate’s underground prison.
Knowing there is only one way back inside the heavily guarded
mansion, Pride allows herself to be captured.

Armed with a plan, Logan joins her on her
mission, but when spirited wolf Gem is captured in the crossfire,
and Pride’s plan begins to unravel, she once again finds herself at
the mercy of her master. Except this time she knows she has two
wolves on her side, Logan and Stone—powerful alphas who will both
fight to the death to free her.

Except the compound hides secrets that
threatens both her heart and her identity and when bonds are tested
and bloodlines are revealed, Pride realizes if she completes her
mission she’ll be releasing her pack into a world where no one,
least of all Pride, is safe.

T
he night is thick,
dark, and ominous—much like my current disposition. All around me
the vineyard’s nightlife falls mute, the cacophony of familiar
sounds muffled beneath the heavy, menacing mood. Tension hovers
overhead like a threatening rain cloud and my flesh tightens,
waiting for the sky to crack open and fracture the silent night.
Even the crickets stand down, their chorus hushed as they sit
watching, waiting, listening for the hammer to fall, or in this
case, the silver to pierce.

It’s unnerving to think that the nocturnal
creatures surrounding the estate—a mansion where I’d once been
imprisoned—instinctively know that I, along with the pack of wolves
at my back, are walking head first into danger and chances of
survival are slim at best.

Not unless I can deceive him–the master.

I’ve spent the last seventeen years under the
master’s control. He taught me to trick, to lure, to embrace my
primal side in an effort to hunt the ruthless drug dealers who
dared to cross him. But I’ll have to put on my best performance yet
if I want to fool the man who can easily control us. A man who is
as cunning as he is lethal, a man who is never, ever to be
underestimated.

The second I surrender and he slaps a collar
around my throat, I know what I will have to do—convince him that I
hadn’t run away from the compound and that I’d only been following
his orders to hunt down a rogue wolf.

But showing no emotion in the face of my
enemy might not be as easy as it once was. Not after everything
I’ve been through. The fact that I’ve changed while running in the
Olympic National Park with the rogue wolf in question, however, is
a point in my favor. My master no longer knows all my weaknesses or
any of my strengths.

I angle my head to see Logan, the boy/wolf
who wound himself around my heart and helped me learn so much about
the world, about the girl inside me. When my eyes lock on his, my
stomach punches into my throat. I know Logan’s fate, know what will
happen to him once I hand him over to my master like he’s nothing
more than a tick on my ruff. Or that what happened between us in
the cave two weeks ago during the full moon was nothing more than a
diversionary tactic. Despite that, I also understand I have no
choice in the matter. But it still doesn’t make feeding him to the
wolves—ironic I know—any easier.

I smile at him but my expression slips when I
turn away. The truth is I’m frightened. Frightened for Logan.
Frightened for the pack of wolves at our backs, for the pack still
trapped inside. And I’m frightened for Stone, the Alpha who
pretended to be enemy but who risked his very life to save
mine.

What will happen if I can’t get them out?

I suck in a sharp breath and work to
desensitize. I can’t let emotions get the better of me. Not now.
Not after I’ve come so far.

Keeping to the shadows and camouflaging
ourselves in the black night, my steps slow as we reach the long
winding driveway leading up to my master’s estate. With my sight
unhindered by the darkness, I glance past the thick iron gate
defending the perimeter and take in the sprawling mansion nestled
at the foot of Mount Sirren. On the south ridge of the mountain,
overlooking the estate, fields of grapevines provide a gorgeous
backdrop to the majestic manor. As I inhale the familiar scents, I
struggle to tame the wolf pacing restlessly inside me, but I can’t
seem to marshal the unease seeping from my every pore.

Our plan is risky, dangerous, and the scars
marring my body are a constant reminder that disobedience comes
with a price. If I make one wrong move, one small mistake under the
master’s watchful eye, not even alpha beside me, or that pack of
werewolves shielding us from the rear can step in to crush him.

Something I long ago vowed I’d do.

My ears perk for sound, and I note that the
propane fired cannons, a device used to scare birds from the
vineyard, are quiet tonight. But come tomorrow they’ll blast again.
At least they’d better blast, because my plan to get the others out
alive hinges upon it.

Floodlights sweep the area, splashing shadows
over the manicured lawn. As my heart thunders and my blood pumps
faster, Logan moves closer, sensing my discomfort. Unwilling to
give in to my fears, I breathe in his comforting scents, pulling
them deep into my lungs. The heady bouquet of clean earth, a
fragrance that reminds me of cool, sunny days, mingles with the
fresh aroma of pine needles. The aroma seeps under my skin and as
it travels through my veins I suddenly can’t help but wish I was
facing the master alone. I hate the risk Logan is about to take.
Hate that he’s so sure of me that he’s willing to put his life in
my hands.

Aware of the security cameras, I take a
tentative step closer to the intercom outside the gate, and my
stomach rebels as the bulging black button taunts me. I want to
reach for it, but I can’t seem to move, my mind and body no longer
functioning on the same wavelength.

Logan curls his hand around my waist, and I
jump at his touch. He slides me a look, his blue eyes moving over
my face.

“It’s going to be okay, Pride.”

I force a smile and my wolf bristles, but I
don’t let her take comfort in his touch, or the warm strength of
his body. Right now I need to draw on my anger, because it’s that
anger that’s going to keep my wolf sharp, and keep us alive.

“Pride,” he says again, then pauses to add
depth to his words when he adds, “We’ve all got your back. Nothing
is going to go wrong.”

“I know,” I lie as I work to keep my voice
from sounding uncertain. Although Logan is smart, strong and
skilled, we’re no longer playing in his territory. While his world
might have dangerous black bears, birds of prey, and wild, feral
animals, the King of my jungle is far more deadly.

And we’d be wise to remember that.

With life and death hanging in the very
balance, a dark shiver pulses in my blood as I reach out and stab
the big black button. As my mind runs through various scenarios,
wondering how the master will receive us and knowing that the next
few minutes will determine our fate, I pull a gun from my pocket
and aim it at Logan’s head.

Cat Kalen is a multi published author
in the romance genre under two pen names. Cat is a wife, mom,
sister, daughter, and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather,
anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie), pizza and
watermelon. She has two teenagers who keep her busy with their
never ending activities, and a husband who is convinced he can turn
her into a mixed martial arts fan. Cat can never find balance in
her life, is always trying to find time to go to the gym, can never
keep up with emails, Facebook or Twitter and tries to write
page-turning books that her readers will love.

A maritime native and former financial
officer, Cat has lived all over Canada but has finally settled down
in her childhood hometown with her family.

To learn more about Cat, visit
www.catkalen.com

You can also connect with Cat online at
Facebook
www.facebook.com/CatKalen
and Twitter
www.twitter.com/CatKalen
.

Look for these other great books!

STATIC

By Tawny Stokes

www.tawnystokes.com

Chapter 1

You belong to me…

I own you…

The hypnotic timbre of Thane’s voice surged
through my body making me tingle all over. Like a rush of heroin
injected into my vein, soothing me, exciting me, I was completely
and utterly hooked.

The bustling crowd in front of the stage
swayed back and forth and I swayed with them. I was caught in the
movement—the flow of people stirred like a whirlpool to the
intoxicating rhythm and razor sharp lyrics of
Malice
.

Your life’s in my hands…

I’m sucking your soul…

My favorite band for the past year, I’d
traveled, with my best friend Chloe, across Idaho and Washington in
the past two months to see them play. My mom had been really cool
about it, even lending me her car—an old POS, but a vehicle
nonetheless—to drive to the shows just as long as I didn’t drive
home trashed. I’d attempted it one night, but got scared when I
couldn’t keep it on the road, and pulled over at a rest stop. Chloe
and I slept in the car.

Thankfully no crazed psycho killer raped and
mutilated us. The worst that came at us was a stray dog looking for
some scraps. Chloe gave it the rest of her cheeseburger that we’d
picked up a MacDonald’s drive thru after the show.

For eight gigs, I’d been entranced by the
four member—three guys and one girl—band. My body responded to
every aspect of their music. My head pounded to the constant heady
thump of the drums, my heart thrashed to every guitar riff, and my
thighs clenched with every word lead singer Thane uttered into the
microphone.

Some songs he looked like he was making love
to the equipment, running his fingers up and down the silver pole,
uttering a lover’s words in its ear. I ached and throbbed wishing I
could be that thin pole of shiny metal. If only he’d hold me like
that, gripping me tightly, running his sweet lips over my face and
neck. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head in ecstasy imagining
what that would feel like.

That was when Chloe punched me in the arm
starling me from my fantasy. “Salem?”

“What?” I grunted, peering at her between
strands of black and blond hair hanging in my eyes.

“Do you want some of this?”

I glanced down to see her passing me some
vodka. I took the offered bottle and tipped it to my lips
swallowing down a good portion. It burned going down, but it was a
good burn, telling me I was still sober. Which I needed to be if I
was going to complete my mission of getting a back stage pass to
meet the band. This was their final gig for the summer in my home
city—Boise, Idaho—and I wouldn’t get another chance to offer up my
virginity to Thane. I’d been holding onto it just for him.

My mom had always told me that virginity was
a gift and the guy better be someone special enough to give it to.
I figured Thane was extremely special. I mean, my mom had given
hers up to some Rock God in the 80’s, I suspected it was either
Keith Richards or Iggy Pop because she had signed pictures of them
both thanking her for a stellar night and when she mentioned either
one of them she got this little smile on her lips and a devilish
sparkle in her eye.

Before I could hand the bottle back to Chloe,
the couple next to us bumped into my arm and I nearly dropped it. I
turned around to glare at them, but they were so busy making out
that they didn’t notice. That was one thing I did notice about
Malice gigs, there always seemed to be a lot of couples kissing and
groping each other either on the stage floor or in darkened corners
peppered around the venue.

In Spokane, when I went to the bathroom at
the club the band was playing in, I happened upon two girls making
out in one of the stalls. Although I was an equal opportunity
snogger, that had thrown me for a loop. I certainly knew some
people were gay, I didn’t have an issue with that—I had an uncle
who was gay and a friend at school—it was just I’d never seen it so
graphically displayed before.

Once I’d finally given the bottle back to
Chloe, she wiped the top with the hem of her t-shirt—I guess she
didn’t appreciate my spit—and took a pull, then tucked it back into
the pocket of her army green jacket that swam on her lanky but
scrawny frame.

“Did you figure out how we’re going to score
backstage passes yet?”

Shaking my head, I set my attention on the
security guards off to one side of the stage, handing passes on
strings to a few big-breasted Goth wannabes. At every show I
watched similar guards giving passes to similar types of girls. The
two times I’d asked for one, they’d looked me up and down, likely
taking in my black 10 holed Doc Martens, jeans-a few worn spots at
the knees and on the ass—shaggy mop of black and white hair, and
Betty Boop t-shirt that didn’t stretch out to a DD cup, or to a C
for that matter then disregarded me in the time it took to do the
bra calculations.