Cursed Wolf: Urban Fantasy Shifter Stand-Alone (Creatures of the otherworld Book 1)

by Brogan Thomas

  I don’t know when I stopped being terrified of the dragon.

  “You’re more than welcome,” the dragon says roughly; he coughs to clear his throat. “I will put your things here for you to deal with. Feel free to explore the house.” He places my bags on the floor next to the wardrobes. He then turns, quickly leaving the room. As he is closing the door, he says, “Dinner in an hour.” The door clicks shut.

  I kick off my silver-sequined trainers, scrub my face, and wait for a few more heartbeats. I open the door, peek out of my bedroom. I don’t see any sign of the dragon. I hold my breath and intently listen. I think I can hear him upstairs. The excited anticipation of looking around the dragon's lair wells inside of me, and I quietly pad into the hallway.

  I poke my head into the room opposite mine and find an empty spare bedroom. Huh. It’s nowhere near as lovely as mine. I can’t go up, but I can go down. I ignore the room at the end of the hallway, and instead, I scamper down the stairs. A slight hint of chlorine and more of the dragon’s smoky, musky scent fills the air. At the bottom of the stairs, the room opens up, and an impressive state-of-the-art gym greets me. I guess this is the reason why the dragon is so massive.

  I open doors and cupboards and squeal when I find a cinema room through a door to my right.

  Past all the gym equipment ahead of me, outside behind a wall of glass, I can see a pool. I slide open the glass door and step out; I find the dragon has a fancy jacuzzi, a sauna, and a steam room. The heated pool is what holds my fascination. It’s incredible and made entirely of glass. I wobble and feel slightly dizzy as I stare down—I can see the sea through the glass bottom. It gives the impression that the water is flowing over the cliff edge, into the crashing sea below. Swimming in that pool will be an adventure. Eeek, this house is phenomenal.

  An hour later, I leave my room and this time head towards the smell of food. I amble into an open-plan room that has a kitchen, a dining table, and comfortable-looking leather sofas. Everything is modern and elegant—it’s lovely. Like in my bedroom, the external walls are made of glass, but as the room is so big, the glass walls are on three sides.

  My feet follow my eyes in an almost-trance; all I can focus on is the view. The sun is slowly sinking into the horizon. The bright colours bounce off the glass and make rainbows on the walls. It’s incredible. The whole room is a backdrop of fading sunlight, sea, and sky. I can almost imagine I am flying or on the deck of a ship out at sea. The thought of being here watching a storm roll in, the sea wild and the wind gusting, thunder and lightning lighting up the sky, like the best natural show imaginable...how incredible would that be to see? I don’t think anyone could get bored with this magnificent view.

  “Miss Hesketh, please take a seat at the table.” I turn and blink. Wow, I am rude. The dragon has put our plates on the table without my noticing. He is standing in front of a chair, waiting to sit down.

  “Oh, I am sorry, the view took me by surprise. Your home is exquisite, and that view is epic.” I want to ask if there’s anything he needs, but that would be weird as it’s his home. I clamp my mouth closed and I hurry to sit down. I aim for the chair opposite, but the dragon shakes his head. He indicates the chair he’s standing in front of. Oh, he is holding the chair for me to sit, wow. No one has ever done that before. I sit with a mumbled, “Thank you.”

  I watch as he prowls around the table. He looks very nice. He has changed out of his suit and is wearing light blue jeans and a tight white long-sleeved top. The top is crazy; it hugs every muscle on his torso, so much so I could count them. It’s that tight, he might as well not have it on. It reveals the most muscled body I’ve ever seen. It’s hard not to drool. I peruse my food quickly to hide my ogling, and I don’t look back up until he has safely sat down.

  “What do I call you?” I blurt out.

  He observes me. His head tilts to the side with his consideration. “Do you not know who I am?” He doesn’t say it arrogantly; he says it as if he is genuinely perplexed that I don’t know. I smile apologetically and shake my head no. I have not got a scooby who he is. “Oh…Miss Hesketh, please tell me, what do you know?” I feel my face go pink and have the urge to wring my hands with embarrassment.

  “I know that you are important...urm, I can see that you’re a dragon.” I wave my hand about to encompass him. “Everyone calls you, urm, ‘General’…I have no idea what you are a general of, but I presume it’s something to do with the Hunters Guild? Mr Brown said you are now my guardian? After he told me you paid his bill. Thank you for that. I can pay you back.” I glance down at my food; he has made steak. Steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli, with a peppercorn sauce. Yum.

  “Eat your dinner,” he says gruffly. He doesn’t have to tell me twice; I dive in.

  I try my best to use my knife and fork correctly. I am getting better.

  The dragon makes an odd noise. I peek up at him; he has his fork raised to his mouth and such a sad expression on his face. I glance back down at my food and continue eating. I hope he is okay. I don’t like the idea that he’s sad. It has been a while since I’ve eaten red meat, so I let my inner carnivore take over.

  It’s difficult to eat like a lady when you have the urge to stuff your face into your food and eat as quickly as you can before someone takes the plate away. I don’t know if I will ever not have that worry, that inbuilt fear at the back of my mind. Being starved for such a long time...when I eat, I find it impossible to eat slowly. I unconsciously hug the plate towards myself, my arms circling it protectively. Huh, at least I didn’t growl.

  “You were starved.” Momentarily I come out of my frenzy, and I peek up again to see him watching me with an indescribable look of compassion in his silver eyes. I drop my eyes and shrug. I guess that explains the sad look from before. It isn’t something I want to talk about.

  Now that I’ve had a few bites—well, okay half the plate—I can try to control myself and slow down a little. I listen intently as the dragon starts to talk. His voice rumbles around the room, much like the ocean below us.

  “Yes, I am a dragon shifter. My title is General. I have a long and boring history of being a warrior and commander. I currently oversee the Hunters Guild, and the hellhounds are also under my jurisdiction.” His big but elegant fingers tap the table. “Mr Brown is correct—as you are under my protection, I am classified as your guardian. You may call me Aragon.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  After dinner, I’m horrified to find out he doesn’t have any dessert, nothing. Who doesn’t have dessert! At the abject horror on my face, the dragon, urm, Aragon, roots around in the freezer and finds a sad-looking tub of vanilla ice cream. It’s an icy lump frozen solid to the bottom of the container. But I sit happily stabbing at it with a spoon while sitting cross-legged on Aragon’s leather sofa.

  Aragon talks about his rules expectations, and we got to the real reason why I’m here.

  It isn’t all about keeping me safe from Daniel.

  “When you first went to the hospital, there were several issues raised,” Aragon says. “The front part of your brain is called ‘the prefrontal cortex,’ and it hasn’t developed properly. It is the area responsible for planning, prioritising, and controlling impulses.”

  So basically Aragon has medical data to suggest my brain is stuck in teenage mode. Huh.

  I want to moan that I have no issues with my impulse control—the number of times I have chosen not to do something reckless is mounting up to impressive levels. I am an absolute fucking guru of control. But I don’t say a word. I am smart enough not to argue with a dragon and his medical data.

  Ha, perfect control.

  I smell bullshit, though—there’s nothing wrong with my brain.

  As well as my teenage brain...cue eyeroll. “You are stronger than an average shifter,” Aragon continues in his mesmerising, low voice. “Even with your small stature, you are at a level of hellhound strength.” Smugly I bounce on the sofa. I am a super-shifter! “Nutty…” The drag
on mumbles as he rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration. I stop bouncing. “The onset of your fire magic has raised serious concerns. Miss Hesketh, shifters should not develop that type of magic until they’re at least six hundred years old, if at all, as it is such a rare gift. To have the ability to partial-shift at twenty-three is also unfounded. I believe your brother was over a century. Combined with your shifting at a young age, you are a complete anomaly. A magical and medical conundrum.” Way to go, Mum, and your lotto DNA.

  Aragon assures me that there’s a slight possibility my brain could develop adequately over time. But I’m not that worried, or that bothered. There’s nothing bloody wrong with my mind.

  Of course, I think I am a little crazy, but come on—who wouldn’t be, with my history? I’ve been through Hell and come out smoking. What all this testing comes down to is an excuse to control me. They can’t let me go wandering about and not have control of me. I narrow my eyes at him. Being a young female shifter with fire magic, I understand now why I’ve been parcelled off to Aragon.

  “Who better to keep an eye on me and keep control of me than you?” I say, raising my eyebrow.

  “I assure you, Miss Hesketh, that I will do whatever it takes to protect you. I want nothing more than to keep you safe. The council isn’t aware of your fire magic. I’d like to keep it that way. I’m officially your guardian. It is a task I have not entered into unadvisedly or lightly.” The immense burden contained in Aragon’s gaze just then is disturbing. It freaks me out. He clearly believes what he’s saying. Has appointing himself my guardian put him at risk? Am I that much of a danger? Aragon’s expression is heart-wrenching, and something inside me rips wide open. I hate this. I drop my chin to my chest and scrutinise my hands, unable to meet his intense gaze.

  “Okay, well, thank you,” I mumble around a lump in my throat.

  No matter what the dragon believes or what I want to think, I have to get it into my head that I am on my own. I am a survivor, not a victim, and I’m not just going to accept my circumstances. I can’t. Eventually, I’m going to find a way to gain control of my life.

  It’s not going to happen overnight, and I can’t allow myself to mope like I have been doing for the past few weeks. At the moment I have a bloody scary, powerful dragon claiming that he wants to protect me. Daniel can go swivel, and John can also fuck off.

  I have loyalty to Owen and Jodie. Ava has also earned my respect and trust. But the only person whom I can rely on is myself.

  * * *

  I am back in my room, getting ready for bed. I have showered and changed into my PJ’s, which are workout shorts and a t-shirt. Since I got control of my shifting at the hospital, I have been sleeping in my wolf form. I can’t sleep in my human guise as I feel vulnerable. I am used to sleeping as a wolf. Also, beds are too soft, my skin is too cold, and even trying to sleep on the floor in my human form doesn’t help.

  Ultimately what makes me choose to sleep furry are the nightmares that plague me. Strangely, they don’t find me when I am a wolf.

  I pad towards my hidden nook and place the photo frame on a lower shelf. I allow the magic to transform me. Aragon wants us to run at five a.m. I am sure he thinks I’d object, but I enjoy training, and the early time doesn’t matter to me. It isn’t like I have to drag myself out of bed.

  I curl up in a wolfy doughnut, my nose on top of my fluffy tail. I face the silver frame; I love you both so much, I say to my long-dead pack. Each blink gets a little longer as I try to keep my eyes on their happy faces until I fall asleep.

  * * *

  I run behind Aragon as we follow a thin strip of a track, worn away naturally bare from previous footsteps. The morning is dry and fresh. The path takes us through a wood, heathland, and peat bogs that surround the base of a mountain. The landscape is breathtaking.

  As the miles disappear under my feet, it becomes apparent just how remote Aragon’s home in this part of Ireland is. Interestingly, I discover there isn’t even a road leading to the house—Aragon must only use the portal or fly, I guess. I feel as if we could be the last people on Earth. Even with my excellent hearing, all I can hear apart from animals and the crashing ocean is the crunching of our feet.

  Oh, and the freaky buzzing of Aragon’s ward.

  I didn’t notice the ward yesterday when I arrived, as it’s miles from the house. I am astonished to see it this morning. Instead of covering only the house, it circles out and covers miles and miles. It isn’t the gold colour that I’m used to seeing either, like the ward at the apartment. No, it’s multicoloured and glows and crackles in the dark. You can feel it buzzing through you, deep into your bones. No one could say that they missed seeing this ward if they stumbled up to it. It’s the magic equivalent of a laser field. I’d hate to see what it would do to anyone unwelcome.

  The sky lightens as we dash across the wind-whipped cliff, the waves rolling endlessly below us. Aragon points out that the coastline has tiny coves and natural swimming spots protected from the full force of the Atlantic by a reef. He explains the different flora, the delicate sea champion, cat’s ear, and sea pink.

  We continue for a good hour at a fast pace. I’ve never run with anyone before as a human or as a wolf, and it’s terrific. If I had been my wolf, I would have had my tongue hanging out and a silly wolfy grin on my face. As it is, I don’t think I stop smiling the whole time. My cheeks hurt. It’s epic.

  When we return to the house, the sky is just lighting up further with the dawn. Aragon tells me to be ready to leave by eight a.m. and to help myself to breakfast.

  I fret over what to wear, and in the end, I wear black leggings and a cute green jumper. Aragon informed me last night that I couldn’t wear my magic bracelets—that I am under his protection blah blah blah and he needed to be able to track me. So I wrap the scent masker bracelet in toilet paper and put it into the handy pocket of my leggings, and the Betty disguise bracelet, I put around my ankle so it’s nicely hidden. Time for breakfast.

  The bloody dragon's kitchen is made for a giant. I huff, prop my hands on my hips, and glare.

  All the countertops are higher than standard; luckily, he has almost everything in the lower cabinets. But the strawberry jam is in a big larder cupboard, and it’s on the top shelf about a hundred foot in the air. I tip my head back and glare at it. I am sure it’s okay if you are a humongous dragon that can also fly, but for me being five-foot-two, it’s like mission impossible.

  I hum the “Mission Impossible” theme tune as I scale the counter in my socks. I balance on my tiptoes and lean across the gap. My fingertips can just brush the jar, but I can’t get hold of it. I growl at the jar in frustration as I plan my first free-the-jam attempt.

  I am going to jump and grab it.

  Just as I am getting ready to make my first jump, Aragon appears by my side, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me.

  I let out a shriek at his sudden appearance, and my sock-encased foot slips.

  Oomph. I find myself in Aragon’s arms as he catches me.

  “I was drawn by the incessant humming. You should have called me to get that for you,” he says gruffly.

  “Oh, urm…nice catch, sorry about that, you, urm… scared the shit out of me,” I squeak out. I gawk up and meet his beautiful silver eyes—he doesn’t seem angry—his eyes are dancing with mirth.

  His forearms hold my weight with ease.

  My proximity to Aragon confuses the hell out of me. But it doesn’t frighten me the way it would have with just about any other person. Instead, I brace my hands on his chest and lean forward. All the way forward and brush my nose against his neck.

  I inhale.

  His smoky, musky scent fills my nose. I shiver, and my stomach flips.

  I hum.

  Shit, it feels good in his arms. Why does it feel so good? I know he’s dangerous, and it isn’t hard to assume that he’s one of the most powerful shifters on the planet. When did I stop being frightened of this huge man?

  I groan deep i
n my throat.

  Since I first laid eyes on him at his office, it’s like every dormant hormone in my body has awakened at once—all clamouring for my guardian’s attention.

  Aragon turns his head, and I feel his breath on my lips. I open and taste his exhalation.

  Goosebumps break out on my skin. I am being inappropriate. What the hell is wrong with me? I straighten up, my face burning.

  “Urm…sorry. Sorry! I’ve never done that before. You…urm…caught me at a bad time. I’m in a hunger mood. I’m urm…hangry…” Gibberish. I’m flustered, I’ve no idea what I’m saying. I cringe and try to keep my eyes from looking crazed. Why did I sniff him!

  “You are absolutely nutty. What will I do with you?” Aragon sighs as he gently lowers me to my feet. My body brushes against his on the way down. A shiver wracks me; it leaves me strangely breathless—warmth pools deep in my tummy.

  Wow, oh…urm. My heart feels like it is beating out of my chest, and my stomach flips again. I like being close to him. Aragon smells so good.

  Aragon disappointingly moves away. I sigh in frustration. He keeps his hand on the back of my neck as he easily reaches for the jam. He places it on to the counter next to the toaster.

  “Nutty, please don’t climb on the furniture. Hurry, you have five minutes.” I grin at the nickname: Nutty. He squeezes my neck gently, and then he prowls out of the kitchen.

  I watch him leave. He is wearing a dark grey suit today, and it looks good against his silver hair and skin. I let out a breath, and my hands tremble as I finish making my toast.