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

by Brogan Thomas

  Between phone calls and running around, I practice my fire magic. After weeks of solid training, I can handle my magic without much thought. I practise so much that I can make a small flame dance in my hand and make it skip from one hand to the other. I privately think that with my skills, I put John to shame. I can shape a flame in the air, and today I am working on a butterfly; it’s going to be epic.

  Aragon is encouraged by how quickly I’ve picked everything up. In a few decades, he says, I should be able to use my fire while in wolf form and light myself up like a proper hellhound!

  Flaming fur! Oh my God, how cool is that!

  Aragon is the real reason I have picked everything up quickly; he is an impressive teacher. It helps that he has total control of the element. Aragon can not only control his fire magic but that of others as well, and ordinary fire.

  I munch on a giant chocolate chip cookie that has appeared on my desk as if by magic. Matthew must have left for me—he is so thoughtful. It tingles strangely on my tongue. I spin my office chair and roll it across the room to answer the ringing phone. Why walk when you can roll…“Good afternoon, the Hunters Guild, how may I help you?” It’s Friday afternoon and I haven’t seen Aragon for hours. He has been busy with meetings all day.

  “Ms Hesketh? I’m so glad I caught you. I have a buyer for the house who wants to discuss the opportunity to purchase more land than the listed ten acres,” the lady on the phone says, taking my grunt of surprise as confirmation that she has gotten the right person. Huh, a call from the estate agent who is selling Temple House. I have no idea how they got this number. I drum my fingers on my desk. I had earmarked the five hundred acres to keep, but do I need all that land?

  “I could probably sell a bit more land.” It would be good to get Aragon’s advice. Maybe John should have input too? Although I still haven’t talked to my brother, since the Daniel incident. I know it’s petty of me; I should do the right thing and give him a call. I guess I need to gather up my nerve to return his calls. “I need to think. Can I call you back on Monday?”

  A wave of dizziness hits me, and with the heel of my hand, I rub the aching spot between my eyes.

  “Ms Hesketh, the reason for my call is that the buyer is unfortunately looking at other properties and will only be available tomorrow for a viewing. She’s adamant that she will only discuss the purchase in person, with yourself. She’s a cash buyer, and if she loves Temple House as much as I think she will, the sale could be finalised within the month.” The fee for the agent was astronomical, so you would think they could deal with this without having to involve me in the viewings. I groan and huff down the phone. I open my mouth with the intention of putting the agent off, but I find myself agreeing instead.

  “I guess I can meet her at the house at…urm, midday?” I shrug to myself. It will be fine. Realistically, I want to see the back of that house as quickly as possible. Left up to me, I would have burned the place to the ground. But Temple House is my mum’s legacy, so I should at least take the time to sell it to a proper custodian. Besides, my head is spinning and I don’t want to negotiate—I just want to get off the phone.

  Once she gets my agreement, the estate agent quickly finishes up the call. God, I hate that house. I am not looking forward to tomorrow.

  I push off from the desk, roll into a clear space, and spin again. Instead of a butterfly, this time I’m going to aim for a little dragon.

  Thinking about dragons, disappointingly I have yet to see Aragon’s dragon. Aragon is incredibly private; I don’t think anybody has seen his dragon form in centuries. I yearn to see his shifted form. I am not brave enough to demand to see the other part of him. I wonder how huge he is and if like his human colouring, he is silver.

  The flaming blob looks nothing like a dragon; I scowl at it.

  I can’t wait to go home; today has been boring. Only ’cause you want to go back for cake and then bedtime, says that helpful snide internal voice. I huff and go red at my inner monologue. God, I’m such a weirdo.

  Yeah, so at night Aragon insists I join him and sleep human in his arms, so he can keep me safe. I spend my nights curled on top of him, wrapped safely in his muscly arms. Unfortunately, Aragon is a total gentleman, and he makes sure to cover me from head to toe in fluffy pyjamas so the incident that shall not be named doesn’t happen again. Urm, you know, the whole naked-parts-of-me-on-naked-parts-of-him incident. Oh my.

  Thinking about it, I have yet to have my first kiss. Nonetheless, I’ve moved to the unplanned impressive level where my bare vulva sat on a dragon shifter’s eight-pack. Since the incident, I can’t help thinking more naughty thoughts. I regret not pressing my lips to his.

  But my experience in everything is so lacking; I have zero chance of making the moves on anyone, least of all a legendary dragon shifter. Could you imagine? What if he said no? Of course he’d say no! Then I’d die of embarrassment.

  As if thinking about him has conjured him up, Aragon prowls through the portal. His jacket buttons are undone and his hair is dishevelled, as though he has repeatedly been running his fingers through it. Aragon’s brief smile and tight eyes relay a lousy day, and in his wake, angry energy smashes around him like a livid wave. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I’d be hiding underneath the desk.

  “Are you okay?” I spring up and rush to him. I reach out and rest my hand on his forearm. The wariness within him sets me on edge.

  “Yes, I’m fine thank you, Forrest.” Aragon washes his hand across his face and closes his eyes, and when he opens them, his crashing angry energy has dissipated. He holds up his arm, and I nestle underneath. “I apologise. A meeting didn’t go my way. I will not bore you with unnecessary details.” Aragon hugs me to his side and kisses the top of my head. “My schedule has become inundated, and I have to work later than planned. Would you like me to arrange for Owen to escort you home?”

  “No, that’s okay, I can go by myself.” Aragon runs his thumb across my cheekbone, a soft expression in his eyes. I beam him my best smile. “Oh, the estate agent called about my mum’s house. I have a viewing—” The office door slams open, and Matthew hurries in, his hands full of paperwork and a harassed, crazy look in his eyes. “I can see you’re busy—it can wait. I’ll see you at home.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, then wiggle out from under his arm. I almost sprint to the portal. No way I’m helping Matthew with all that shit. “See you Monday, Matthew,” I yell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The taxi drops me off outside the main gates.

  It’s so strange being back here; memories whisper through the trees as I meander down the driveway. My boots crunch on the leaves that have fallen unchecked, and more red, orange, and yellow leaves swirl around me. The light breeze also tugs at my hair and teases strands from the fancy side plait.

  Initially, I hadn’t known what to wear; it’s the middle of November, and although it isn’t too cold, I still get cold. I was going to put on jeans but then thought better of it. I appear young, and the buyer might be difficult if I don’t at least look like I own a big-ass manor house. So I chose a warm black jumper dress, thick black tights, and boots, and I topped off the outfit with an expensive long red wool coat.

  I tug my coat closer around me and bury my cold hands in my pockets as I amble towards the house. Something inside me doesn’t want me to go near the place. Maybe I should have cancelled the viewing…no, it wouldn’t have been fair to the lady wishing to view the house.

  I can see that the buyer is already here; their empty car is parked by the front entrance. I presume they’re looking at the grounds.

  I wish Aragon or Owen were here. I made the mistake of leaving everything to the last minute, and my head has been kind of fuzzy. I rub the aching spot between my eyes.

  I guess I’ve not worked on the whole time-management thing; today, lazily, I was relying on my missing dragon to do all the planning work for me.

  I didn’t leave home till eleven, and it takes a good
thirty minutes to get to this house from my old apartment portal. I had hoped to spot a friendly face at the apartments, to beg one of the hellhounds to drive me and play bodyguard. When I didn’t find a handy hellhound and Owen didn’t answer my call, I got a taxi and fired off a text to Owen to explain. I still haven’t told Aragon I have a viewing today—he’s inundated with work, and he left for the Guild early.

  I didn’t sneak out intentionally, and I scribbled a note. I bet I will be back home before Aragon anyway.

  I unlock the main door and leave the door open behind me as I traipse into the house. I glance around with a shiver; it feels like a lifetime since I have stepped foot here. All the pack photos and portraits have been removed and safely stored. The walls have a fresh coat of paint, the floors have been freshly waxed. I appointed a cleaning company to make sure the house remained pristine.

  It isn’t as scary as I remember, but the past still echoes in its walls. I know on some level it wasn’t the fault of the house—what happened to me had been the result of the actions of two men. But it still makes me a bit sick, and I feel uncomfortable being here. My instincts scream at me to leave, to run.

  My phone rings and I fish it out of my coat pocket—Owen is returning my call. “Hello, Nanny Hound,” I say brightly.

  “Forrest, where are you?” Owen demands, his voice urgent. I hate it when he uses that tone; it means I’m in trouble.

  “I am at my mum’s house, meeting a buyer. Is every—”

  “Forrest, get out of that house now! I am on my way; you need to leave now! I will meet you up the road from the house. Head towards the village.” He disconnects the call without saying goodbye.

  Oh, crap. Owen is pissed, and Aragon is going to be pissed.

  I don’t know what I’m going to tell the buyer.

  I turn and rush back down the hall towards the entrance, my keys in my hand, ready to lock the door. I grind to a halt.

  Liz Bloody Richardson is standing at the door with a sick-looking smile on her face. What the fuck is Liz doing here? In greeting, she gives me a strange little finger wave. I shake my head at her and scrunch my nose in disgust—God, she’s a loon.

  “I can see the persuasive magic worked. Did you enjoy the cookie?”

  What? Oh no! Before I can tell her to fuck off I am grabbed from behind; my head hits a hard chest, and my arms are pinned to my sides.

  I react without thinking. I drop and shift my weight to the side, which handily opens up my line of attack onto the idiot’s groin. I slap my hand with the keys back hard, nailing him; it makes him flinch with pain and gives me room and a few seconds to twist out of his grip.

  I should now run like hell, but I am pissed. He tries to grab me again, and I drop the keys to the floor and throat-punch him. I then do a little skip and use my elbow to strike his temple. As he goes down, I recognise him. It’s Meathead Two, the one with the brown hair. Oh, bloody hell. I knee him in the face for good measure. He flops to the floor, out cold.

  I turn to leave, and Liz is standing right in front of me. I don’t see the knife in her hand until she stabs me with it.

  “Why?” I gasp.

  “You killed my lover Paul with your stupid dinner stunt. My brother found him and killed him. Now, dog, any time I get even a sniff of your happiness, a hint that things are going well for you, I will be there to fuck it up. Harry says hello…” She jams the blade deeper into my side to make her point. She grins. “I hope that hurts.”

  The wound burns, which indicates that the knife must be silver—the crazy cow. I keep my face blank, not giving her any opportunity to revel in my pain. The silver will slow me down and stop me from shifting. But I lived in a silver cage for ten years, so while I’m not immune, I have built up a tolerance to its effects.

  I punch her in the chest, and she’s knocked away from me. With a sucking sensation, the knife pulls free. Liz still has the bloody blade in her grip, and she waves it at me, a snarl on her lips. I narrow my eyes and follow her. I dart to the side, cup my palm, and slap her hard across the face. I kick the knife, knocking it from her hand, and with satisfaction, I hear her wrist crunch. Liz drops to her knees, holding her broken wrist to her chest; she starts wailing. I scoop up the blade.

  I stumble past her and out of the house, clutching my side.

  “What the fuck, Liz, you were supposed to be a decoy, not fucking stab her with silver. That’s my mate you have just marked up,” a voice chastises. I glance up, and Daniel Kerr is there, looking like a textbook villain in a custom black suit. He swaggers towards me.

  I slide the blade into my coat pocket, and I don’t react when Daniel grabs hold of my arm. There’s no fighting my way out of this. He has a group of twenty shifters at his back, and I am bleeding all over the fucking steps.

  I’m starting to feel the effects of the silver, and it isn’t pleasant. Everything around me echoes and reverberates like I’m underwater. I shake my head to try and clear it. I almost fall to one knee, but Daniel’s grip on my arm stops my descent. The pain in my side shoots to the tips of my fingers. Slowly my skin grows numb and cold, marking the paralysis of the whole left-hand side of my body. Fuck, that can’t be good...well, at least it doesn’t hurt anymore.

  “Forrest.” Daniel pulls my head back by my hair. If he didn’t have a grip on me, I would have fallen. “I have missed you, little wolf. Look at you, all elegantly dressed up.” He is such a dickhead. Wordless snarls erupt from my mouth, which he ignores. “Let’s go into our house and get things sorted. Try not to get blood on my suit.” He chuckles and pulls me back around. Daniel half-drags, half-carries me back into the house. We pass Liz, who is still crying on the floor. “You lot, wait outside! I don’t need an audience for this. Marcus, Ron, come. I want you to watch the office door.”

  Daniel drags me into the small downstairs office; he must have been inside the house before. I am struggling to stand, but at least the bleeding is starting to slow. According to my research on silver poisoning, it should be out of my system within the next ten minutes or so if I am lucky. I can then shift and chew his nose off.

  Daniel smiles at me in triumph; he lets go of my arm and leans towards me. I take a small, unsteady shuffling step back. My bum meets the wall, and I use it to prop myself up.

  “It has taken me months to get you away from that fucking dragon. Yesterday the council permitted me to pursue my claim. I told them that you were my mate. He let the vote pass.”

  He what? I don’t believe him. Why would Aragon do that? I brace my knees and lift my chin. The back of my head smacks against the wall. Daniel is still a delusional wanker.

  “I know that fucking dragon isn’t going to let me near you—he will burn every favour he has to keep you away from me. So I thought I’d up the timeline. I don’t need his permission; I have the council’s.” Daniel snarls, “I know he’s been fucking you for months.” He yanks me away from the wall and into his arms and spins me so that he is standing behind me. “I forgive you for that, Forrest.” I attempt to turn my head to keep my eyes on him, but my vision is swimming with black dots. I feel like I have taken several punches to the head. It takes everything I have to keep on my feet.

  Daniel pulls me to his chest and takes hold of my right wrist, pulling it away from my wound, where I had been applying pressure. He pulls my arm across my body. The silver is making me slow, and I don’t react as he does the same to my other arm. He holds both my wrists firmly. Daniel kicks out the office chair, sits, and hauls me onto his lap. His breath is on my neck.

  I hear him open his mouth, the slight click of the jaw, but nothing prepares me for him biting me.

  He must have shifted his teeth. He bites the back of my neck, his upper and lower canines on either side of my spine. I let out a pained whine.

  It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

  The sheer pain cuts through the effects of the silver. I manage to struggle for a few moments, but it’s useless. He continues to bite me, and everything falls away. It is a
s if I am trapped inside myself, unable to move at all. Dark and twisting, I feel his rancid mate magic ooze through my blood, into my head.

  He finally lets go of my neck; I come back slightly to myself, my breathing shallow. My heart is beating too slowly.

  My neck feels wet and what I presume is blood from the bite trickles down my back. Daniel has bitten me…the words bounce about my head as I try to remember the significance.

  Daniel stands, and he shoves my shocked, useless body across the desk. Putting his hand underneath my coat and dress, he starts lifting everything. “I have to make this quick as we have to go. I won’t leave here without finishing our mating—I have waited too long.” He painfully rips my tights and knickers down; I still can’t move. “Look at that fucking ass—fuck me, you are fucking perfect. I am a lucky bastard.” He slaps my bottom, and he laughs. My heart has sped up and feels like it is now beating out of my chest.

  In my head, I am screaming.

  His fingers brush between my legs, and I suddenly wake the fuck up. I find my voice. “No.” It comes out as a whisper; I say it louder. “No! Get off me, this is rape,” I croak out.

  “Oh, sweetcheeks, you silly girl. You can’t rape your mate. I know you are not going to enjoy this, but I will.” The scraping descent of his zipper brings tears to my eyes.

  No God, no, I won’t survive this.

  I flinch, and the knife wound pounds rhythmically, waves of agony in tune with my frantic heartbeat. Energy suddenly slams into me from out of nowhere. It fills me, and I know the silver is finally out of my system. I want to sob in relief.

  Whatever the bite has done to me, will not stop me.

  I fling my head back, catching him in a head butt. Daniel is knocked away from me. I roll off the other side of the desk.

  The idiot laughs. “I love it when you fight.”

  “Then you’re going to love this,” I rasp out, “but not as much as I will.” Daniel won't be laughing soon.