Last Wolf Hunting (1 of 3 free samples)

---

COPYRIGHT
Last Wolf Hunting by Rhyannon Byrd. Copyright 2008 by Tabitha Bird.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.

---

Next

LAST WOLF HUNTING

Rhyannon Byrd

To my mother-in-law, Chris, for your endless support and treasured friendship. With much love, Rhyannon


AUTHOR'S NOTE
http://www.dailylit.com/books/last-wolf-hunting/authornote


CHAPTER 1

A bitter mountain breeze wrapped around his long frame, whipping his shaggy hair against the furrowed ridges of his brow as Jeremy Burns hiked through the Maryland forest. Like a wrathful banshee, the relentless autumn winds howled with fury, while his fellow Bloodrunner, Cian Hennessey, quietly kept pace at his side.

They’d been working their way through the woods for a good fifteen minutes now, each step taking Jeremy closer to the last place on earth that he wanted to be. His muscles were hard with tension, biceps bulging against the seams of his shirt, his skin fever-hot despite the chill of the air. Blood pumped through his veins in a powerful, heavy rhythm, his heart hammering like a drum, senses honed to a razor’s edge, sharp and precise.

And it was all because of a girl. All because of a woman.

That was the relentless, infuriating thought burning its way through his tired mind as he hiked, the silvery moonlight glinting against the ravaged limbs of the trees, making them look like gnarled monsters in the shadowed darkness. But monsters didn’t scare him. Hell, he was one of the monsters, complete with fangs and fur and a deadly appetite that could get him into trouble should he fail to exercise fierce control—which was why he always kept a white-knuckled grip on the animal side of his nature. For a Bloodrunner, losing control was never an option, but then neither was fear. And Jeremy had done a damn good job of mastering both—until it came to her.

He hated to admit it, but he was terrified by the growing knot of anticipation inside of him. The one that kept sniffing at the nighttime air, eager for a whiff of that lone, perfect fragrance that never failed to drive him out of his mind. Honeyed and womanly warm. Earthy and rich. It’d been woven into the very fabric of his soul, imprinted upon his senses like a tattoo needled into his skin. Just the thought of that mouthwatering scent made him hard and aching, not to mention irritable as hell.

“Do you think she’ll be there?” he muttered in a gritty rasp, slanting a look toward the man at his side.

“Who?” Cian pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and flicked a sharp glance toward Jeremy, his pale gray eyes shadowed beneath the thick veil of his lashes. “The Murphy witch?”

“Who else?” he grunted impatiently. Jillian Murphy was the only woman on his mind—and the Irishman damn well knew it.

Taking a long drag from his now smoldering cigarette, Cian lifted his right brow in a cynical arch. “What? I’m psychic now, as well as irresistible?”

“Trust me, I have no problem resisting you,” Jeremy quietly snarled, narrowing his eyes on the grinning bastard. Normally he enjoyed trading barbs with the Irishman, but not tonight. Tonight he was too tense, too bitter to have a sense of humor.

As if impervious to the thread of warning in his words, Cian barked a rich, husky laugh. “Aw, there it is. I knew your inner smart-ass was hiding in there somewhere, Burns. And to answer your question, yes, I think she’ll be there. Why else do you think I decided to tag along?” His white teeth flashed in a taunting smile. “I’m here for moral support, you know.”

“Moral support my ass. More like you’re here so that you can run back to the Alley with some juicy gossip for the others.” Jeremy knew his partner, Mason Dillinger, and the other Bloodrunners would be champing at the bit to hear the details of his first night back. “Face it, Hennessey. I’m on... to... you.”

The soft words trailed off as the mountain winds suddenly surged from a new direction, swelling with power. Jeremy inhaled with a sharp, deep breath, and his head immediately shot back as if he’d been clipped under the chin.

Oh, god. There it was. Like a messenger in the night, the shivering breeze carried the fertile scents of the forest... and something more. Something lush and achingly familiar. Something that goddamn belonged to him.

With no choice but to follow the primal, ruthless dictates of his beast—of his wolf—Jeremy found himself staring up at the starry canopy of the bruise-colored sky. His feet were no longer moving, his entire being focused on taking in more of that decadent, head-spinning scent, so richly spiced that he could actually taste it.

That is so damn good, he thought with a low growl, wanting to roll the evocative flavor around on his tongue, savoring it like some strange, illicit pleasure. All it took was that instant flash of recognition, and the sweetly addictive scent melted into his skin, into his bones and blood and the violent, erratic pounding of his heart.

Jesus, he was so screwed. He had to be stronger than this, dammit.

Shaking his head to clear it, Jeremy silently cursed himself for being so easily seduced. He pushed his shaking hands back through the windblown strands of his hair, then shoved them deep in the pockets of his weathered jeans and forced himself to keep hiking.

It still amazed him that this was actually happening. That he was on his way back to the pack of werewolves who looked on his half-human heritage as a stain, an aberration—something that made him less than worthy. Because of his past, he knew it was a mistake to tempt fate by going back to the mountaintop town of Shadow Peak, the place the Silvercrest called home. But he didn’t have a choice. He’d drawn the shortest straw among the Runners, making it his mission to catch the traitor who was tempting Lycans to turn rogue, to hunt innocent humans as prey, and teaching them how to dayshift. Rogues were dangerous enough bastards on the best of days, but show them how to take the shape of their beasts beneath the heat of the sun and they became that much more difficult to hunt down... not to mention kill. Jeremy figured he should know, considering his scars were still healing from his last run in with a group of them.

And now he could sense that Jillian was near. The woman who was meant to be his lifemate. The woman who was meant to make him complete.

Next