Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,35
wolf had Emelia pinned, one gigantic paw on either side of her head. Showing its razor-sharp teeth, the wolf growled and went rigid as if it was filled with rage. Fur on its head stood on end and its lips pulled back in a hideous snarl. Then, with a haunting howl that split the night, it bit into Emelia’s neck. Jagged teeth sank in deep, pulling at tendon and muscle. Screams got lost in Emelia’s throat as she gasped for air. The wolf tore its head from side to side, gnashing its teeth in her skin. Searing pain mixed with terror filled Emelia’s body, from head to foot, blood to bone.
The wolf pulled back, its muzzle dripping in blood.
Her blood.
If I bit you in the exact same place, you’d die a long, painful death. The stranger’s words echoed through her head as the wolf bared its canines and reared up. Emelia cringed and pinched her eyes tight, bracing for the wolf—or the man behind the wolf’s eyes—to kill her.
From out of nowhere, a second wolf crashed into the first. Clutching the gaping wound on her neck, Emelia maneuvered herself around, scrambling over the grass. Two wolves circled round and round, snapping and snarling at one another. Only they didn’t complete a full pacing circle. The darker of the two wolves, the one who’d saved her, didn’t seem to want to let the other near her. As the lighter wolf leaped in Emelia’s direction, the darker wolf growled and chomped at its neck. When the lighter wolf darted the opposite direction, the darker matched its flash of movement.
They were equal size—larger than pictures of wolves Emelia had seen—with thick black fur and hunched backs. They moved with the same deadly stealth and attacked with the same brute strength. They could’ve been the same wolf. Brothers, maybe.
Wait…hadn’t the stranger called Drake his brother? Hadn’t the wolf attacked Emelia seconds after she kneed the stranger in the family jewels? Beyond the wolves, the stranger was nowhere to be seen.
Couldn’t be, yet the word resounded in Emelia’s brain like a gong.
Brothers. Werewolves.
Chest constricting, Emelia crawled backward, her feet catching on the tail of her dress. She couldn’t pry her eyes away from the gruesome scene in front of her. It was like a horrible car crash unfolding in slow motion. The darker wolf chomped into the lighter wolf’s neck. It howled, then sliced its paws over the darker one’s back. They tumbled, throwing each other aside, clambering to their huge paws, then attacking again.
As Emelia’s vision blurred, she touched her neck and came away with a hand smeared with blood. It ran down her arm, red and thick, soaking the embossed petals in her dress. She was losing too much. She was going to bleed out on the grass in front of city hall. What a historic moment that would be!
Howls came from all around her—beside her, above her, from the hall itself. The sound was loud and muffled, like a distant trumpet announcing battle. Emelia supposed she simply had to wait for the soldiers to arrive.
She tried to get to her feet and slipped as dizziness set in. Defeated by her lack of strength, Emelia clutched the cool lawn and pressed her face against it. The dampness of the grass somehow soothed her, calming her racing heart. One wolf—she couldn’t tell which since their colors had blended together—glared at the other down its nose and growled so deeply that it shook the earth. The other wolf growled back, lower, though no less menacing, then took off running toward the black blur parked on the street.
It wasn’t two shuddering breaths before Emelia was surrounded by howls and stomping feet. Her eyes fluttered closed as the sound of Drake’s voice penetrated her weary haze. “It’ll be all right, Emie. I promise I’ll make everything all right.”
Muffled barks.
“How’d she get out here alone?” Drake’s voice. More growls. “You were supposed to be watching her every second. If she doesn’t recover from this, I’ll have your hide!”
Emelia’s dress tore away. Misty night air danced across her exposed legs. A warm mouth pressed a kiss against her inner thigh before she was bitten a second time.
Chapter Eleven
A cool washcloth pressed against Emelia’s forehead, jarring her awake. She gasped, sitting upright in a strange bed, in a strange room. Drake sat on a leather chair beside the bed, his face a dark mask. He looked tired—shadows hovered beneath his eyes and stress lines indented the corners of his mouth.
“Thank