Digging the Wolf: a paranormal romance (Werewolves of Crookshollow Book 1)

by Steffanie Holmes

  “I meant your trowel. That was why you went back into the cave in the first place, according to Frances.” I glanced down at her hand. “You don’t have it with you.”

  “No. I dropped it in the cave. I was quite surprised, you see.”

  “I’d believe you. Except that I saw it sitting at the back of Frances’s toolbox. Yours has the red handle, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s my spare,” Anna said, her eyes darting nervously.

  “You didn’t drop your trowel. You were looking for your bracelet.”

  “So what if I was? It was your fault I lost it.”

  “How do you figure that? If you’re going to blame anyone, I’d be pointing fingers at Ozzy Osbourne’s friend who got tangled in your hair.”

  “If you hadn’t been snooping where you didn’t belong, I wouldn’t have followed you, and none of this would’ve happened. Go on Luke, tell me why you were hunting for the paintings with a crowbar in your hand?”

  “You seemed so timid yesterday,” I grinned, trying to distract her. This wasn’t the time to tell her about my family secrets. “Where did this lioness come from?”

  “She was provoked.” Anna growled, but the corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile.

  “Come on, Anna.” Frances yelled from the cave entrance. “You’ve got to show me what you found!”

  “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  “Going to get Frances to help you find that missing trowel?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re a really horrible liar.” I sighed, releasing her.

  “Takes one to know one. I ask you again, how did you know those paintings were there?” she demanded. “That section of the cave has been completely unexplored.”

  “I know they were there because I am descended from the person who drew them.”

  Anna’s brown eyes regarded me. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Those drawings are tens of thousands of years old. How can you—”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m the archaeologist here. Of course I’m sure.” But she frowned slightly. “You’re not making any sense, Luke.”

  Anna rubbed her forearms. She was still wearing the clothes she wore on the dig – a flannel work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Now that the sun had set, the frigid air caused goose pimples to raise along her arms.

  “You’re cold.” I shrugged off my jacket, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Come on, back to camp with you.”

  “No way. I’ve got to show Professor Doyle these paintings, and you need to tell me what’s going on.”

  I opened my mouth, the words on the tip of my tongue. Staring into those eyes, that had yesterday been so reserved but now sparkled with life and defiance, and feeling the heavy thrum of our connection pulsing through my veins, I hoped I was making the right decision in trusting her.

  “Anna!” Frances yelled from the cave. Anna glared at me pointedly.

  “Later,” I whispered. “Tonight. Meet me by that rotting oak stump where the road meets the hiking trail. I have something to show you.”

  She nodded, and whirled around, sliding down into the cave and disappearing into the gloom. I followed her, my stomach in knots. What the fuck would I do now?

  7

  Anna

  I shifted from foot to foot, my teeth chattering even through my thick jacket. Where was Luke? Why did he want me to meet him here, nearly half a kilometre from the campsite?

  It had been an eventful evening, and my body ached with weariness. I’d taken Frances down to show her the paintings and as predicted, she was suitably awed. “This discovery is going to make my name!” she screeched, hugging me so tight she cut off circulation to my arms. She’d insisted on getting Ruth and Max back to the site with the camera, tripod, and floodlights to take some preliminary shots, while I spent an hour on the satellite phone to Professor Carter – the department head at Loamshire University – describing the find for a press release to go out the next day.

  “You’ll need to send through some photos,” he’d said, his voice tight with excitement. “As crisp and hi-res as possible. It’s going on the website tomorrow.”

  “Professor Doyle is taking some now.” I’d replied. “They’ll be in your inbox first thing.” I stifled a yawn as I jammed a power bar into my mouth. Frances was too busy on the site to bother cooking dinner, which was at least a small blessing.

  After the phone call, I had to go back to the cave, where I spent another couple of hours helping Max reposition the lights to get the best possible shots. Frances finally called it quits at 11pm, giving me just enough time to eat another power bar, clean my teeth and pull on some clean-ish, dry-ish clothes to go and meet Luke.

  And now here I was, my bones aching with cold, my mind reeling with fantastical theories, and he wasn’t even here.

  Disappointment surged through me. Here I was getting my hopes up about this guy, thinking he understood what I was going through, but he was just playing me. He was probably watching me from his tent, laughing at how pathetic I was. My cheeks burned. Screw this. I was going to bed—

  Footsteps crunched through the forest behind me. A few moments later, Luke emerged from the trees, his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his jacket, his breath coming out in hot steam. Under the moonlight, he looked even better – the gloomy night only seemed to highlight his strong features and wild eyes.

  “Well,” I said, struggling to speak through my chattering teeth. “I’m here, freezing my tits off. What’s your explanation?”

  “You will catch your death out here,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to his chest. Instantly, his body warmth radiated through my jacket. I wanted to tell him to let me go, but I was far too cold and he smelt so, so good.

  “You were the clever one who chose this spot. The faster you talk, the sooner we can go back to your tent—” My face flushed with heat as I realised what I’d said. “I mean, our tents. Our tents.”

  Luke laughed, his husky voice reverberating through my whole body. Damn, he was gorgeous when he laughed.

  “Fine. I’ll get right down to it. Those paintings aren’t neolithic.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because my grandmother painted them.”

  “What?” That didn’t make any sense. “But how did she manage that? This cave wasn’t even discovered until five years ago.”

  “Wrong. It was inhabited by my family for at least two centuries before that.” Luke’s green eyes bore into mine. “Anna, I’m going to tell you something that’s so profoundly unbelievable, you’re going to think I’m crazy. But I assure you I’m not. And I need you to just wait for me to finish explaining, and I promise I’ll show you all the proof you need. OK?”

  “Can’t we do this back at the camp, where it’s warm?” I balled my hands into fists and pulled them up into my sleeves. But it was no good. My fingers were quickly losing all their feeling.

  “I can’t risk anyone else overhearing. And you can’t tell the others what I say, either.” Luke pulled out my hands and sandwiched them between his own. The heat was so intense the ends of my fingers tingled. “Do you promise?”

  “Promise what?”

  “Not to breathe a word of this to anyone?”

  “Fine, fine.” My face was going numb. “Just tell me.”

  Luke took a deep breath. “I’m a werewolf.”

  I snorted. He can’t be serious? I yanked my hands away, showing my fingers back into my sleeves. “You brought me out here, in the middle of sub-zero temperatures, to make up some stupid campfire horror story.”

  “It is no story. I am a werewolf.” Luke stepped back, bracing himself against the rotting oak. “Watch.”

  I glared at him, wanting to turn away and leave him there in the cold. But curiosity ate away at me. I wanted to know what his game was, why he was trying to grab me with this cock-and-bull story.

  Luke locked eyes with me, his gaze intense. At first,
nothing happened. But then I noticed his face was changing. The bones beneath his skin seemed to be moving, elongating his nose, rearranging his cheekbones, flattening his skull. His ears moved back on his head, the lobes growing up and outward. His eyes remained locked on mine as his chin and nose joined in a snout, his teeth curving down into two long, sharp canines.

  What was going on? What was happening?

  Luke dropped to the ground, standing on all fours. His clothing tore from his body as the muscles in his shoulders bulged, reaching up to fuse with his neck, throwing his head back at an impossible angle. His back arched, and his legs and arms bent and shifted, the knees snapping backward with a crack.

  This cannot be happening. My whole body went rigid with fear, my heart hammering against my chest. I staggered backward, preparing to run. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the incredible scene before me.

  Luke threw back his head and howled, the sound echoing through the silent night. What stood before me was no longer the handsome ranger who’d held me against his warm skin. It was a grey wolf, its eyes regarding me with cool, calculating precision. It stuck out a pink tongue and licked along its lip, revealing a row of sharp, white teeth.

  My heart leapt in my throat. I fought through my terror, turned on my heel, and ran back towards the camp. Behind me, the leaves crunched as the creature took chase. I poured on speed, my body screaming with protest. Those long, razor-sharp canines flashed across my vision. At any moment it would be close enough to pounce—

  “Anna, wait!”

  Luke’s voice. I dared a glance back over my shoulder, and saw him running through the trees towards me. He was human again. Moonlight glinted off his body, his skin glistening with sweat. His hair had come free, and it trailed behind him in the breeze.

  He was completely naked.

  Shit. I slowed, still moving towards the camp. “Don’t come any closer.”

  “Please, Anna. I’m sorry for scaring you.” Luke stopped in his tracks, planting his bare feet in a wide, powerful stance. I stopped also, leaning forward on one foot, ready at any moment to dart away. My heart pounded against my chest. Had I really just seen Luke turn into a wolf? Maybe it was my imagination playing tricks on me. Some kind of mirage caused by the moonlight? Maybe Ruth had snuck hallucinogenic drugs into my tea?

  “Luke?” I gasped out.

  He didn’t say anything, just fixed his beautiful green eyes on mine.

  I looked down, not wanting to stare into his eyes any more. Big mistake. My gaze fell on his naked hips, covered with more tattoos of wolves howling and tigers stalking across his taut muscles. His cock stood out between his legs. He was huge. And rock hard.

  My whole body pulsed with excited energy. Even though I was terrified, my body wasn’t. It flushed with heat, as though some primal aspect of me was aroused by seeing Luke hard for me.

  Luke was hard for me.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Okay, fine.” I took a few shaky breaths. “So you’re a werewolf. How does it work?”

  “Werewolves have existed alongside humans for hundreds of tens of thousands of years, probably much longer.” Luke said, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s a genetic trait, passed on from parents to cubs. The dominant genes pass through the male line. There are very few female werewolves – most of us choose a human mate who carries the necessary genes to create wolven cubs.”

  “That’s…interesting.” I gulped, wondering why he was looking at me so intensely as he spoke of mates.

  “I can shift whenever I want, as you’ve just experienced. When I shift, I’m in complete control of myself. It’s still my human mind, just instead the body of a wolf. Werewolves live longer than humans – about a hundred and fifty years. I also have a lot of primal, animal instincts,” he glanced down at his hardness, and when he looked up, he was grinning. “As you can clearly see. But I would never hurt you, or anyone else. I’m still me underneath all the fur.”

  “Then why did you chase after me?”

  “Because you ran.” He said simply. “And because I don’t want to let you get away.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like a threat.”

  “It’s not meant to be threatening.” Luke wiggled his crotch suggestively. “It’s meant to be sexy.”

  The corners of my mouth twitched up into a faint smile. “So the thing about wolves and the full moon isn’t true? You don’t just change as soon as the moon rises?”

  “Oh, it’s true.” Luke’s face darkened. “Everything I’ve just told you changes when the moon is full. Then, I have no choice about the shift. I become a wolf, and I have no control over my behaviour. I am a wild beast, unbeholden to anyone, not even my own conscience. That is why I work as a ranger. When the full moon approaches I can retreat into the forests for days, and live out the curse without hurting anyone until I become human again.”

  “Suppose I believe that you’re a werewolf—”

  “I am.”

  “Fine. You’re a werewolf. I don’t understand what this has to do with the caves.”

  “The caves were the home of my family, the Lowe pack.” Luke said. “The pack controlled much of the Crookshollow territory. They would come here to these caves during the full moon to live out their wildness, where they wouldn’t injure anyone in the village. Most werewolf packs have a safe place in the wilderness to go as a family during the full moon. Those places are fiercely guarded by the pack to prevent other wolves coming in and claiming them as their own territory.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Fifty years ago, my father lived here with his pack – my grandparents, and his two brothers. Something awful happened. My father never spoke much of it, but from what little I gathered from him, there was an accident one night in the village. A baby was killed in its bed, mauled to death by a vicious animal that had got in through an open window above the cot. That same night, villagers had seen a wolf skulking around the town. The villagers put two and two together – they knew it had to have been someone in my family, as we were the only werewolf pack left in the area. And so they came to the caves with blades and torches, in search of the killer. They murdered my grandparents and uncles in revenge for the killing. Only my father survived.”

  “How?”

  “My grandmother was not a wolf, but a human woman with an artistic talent and an incredible prophetic power. She saw the villagers coming in a vision. My grandfather and his two oldest sons were out hunting, and so she could not warn them. Instead, she painted the last images on the wall, hoping they would see it when they got back to the cave. She then ran into the woods with her youngest cub, my father.”

  The weeping woman in the picture. “So now I’m supposed to believe there are such things as psychics?” I said, but as I watched his expression, my protests died away. The way he spoke of his family, his voice trembling ever so slightly when he talked about his father…as hard as it was for me to comprehend, I knew Luke spoke the truth.

  “Oh, it’s all true. Psychics, witches, werewolves, vulpines, bran…”

  “Bran? Vulpines? Now you’re just making words up.”

  “Bran are raven shapeshifters. Vulpines are fox shifters.”

  “You’re kidding me.” There was a whole smorgasbord of weirdness out there in the world.

  “I am not. There are actually some pretty infamous vulpines and bran living in Crookshollow right now. This area attracts supernatural creatures and paranormal activity like you wouldn’t believe.”

  I unfolded my arms, balling up my freezing hands and stuffing them into the cuffs of my jacket. “OK. Fine. Let’s say you’ve convinced me with your miraculous shapeshifting abilities, and I believe all this supernatural mumbo jumbo actually exists. Let’s go back to this wild tale of yours. You said humans don’t know werewolves exist. So how come they all came to the caves after your family?”

  “Some humans do know. In fact, there were times on earth where most humans knew. Many of the Norse and Saxon gods of legend a
re actually famous shapeshifters. The Egyptian pantheon, too. Shifters were often considered to be powerful sorcerers and advisors and held positions of power. But since Europe became Christianized, shifters have realised it’s better to remain hidden. Although there are still humans who know about us, especially in supernatural centres like Crookshollow. You’ve heard the stories about what used to go on there, the witch burnings and hauntings and such?”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course I knew. The town had been playing up its supernatural past ever since I could remember, using it as a ploy to lure more tourists. My friend Derek loved this stuff, he was always dragging me to arcane bookstores or on some local ghost hunt.

  “Well, many of those witches burned were actually werewolves. The witch trials were what drove the last of the wolven packs out of England, to the forests of the continent, or further abroad. But my family stayed. My great-grandfather and my grandfather loved this land and the people, and they wanted to hold it at any cost.

  “There was a powerful family in the village – the Peytons. Robert Peyton was the local bishop, so he had a tremendous power over the county. He delivered infamous sermons calling down fire and brimstone upon all, that brought people for miles around. Church attendance in Crookshollow skyrocketed, and so did a renewed intolerance for the supernatural. He hated my family for no reason other than what they were.

  “Peyton’s chance to rid Crookshollow of my pack came, when that child was killed in the village, torn apart mere days before its christening. Because of this horrible act, Peyton incited the village against my family. He called down from the pulpit that we were the children of Satan – shapeshifting demons who came into the village at night and took their children. The fact the child hadn’t yet been christened cinched the story. Peyton assembled a mob. They came for my family with pitchforks and torches. There was no trial, no evidence. They murdered my grandfather, my grandmother, and their two sons. My father was the only one who escaped with his life.”

  “That’s horrible.”