Lost in Wolf Dreams (Cormac's Pack)

by A. P. Jensen

  Contents

  Title

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Titles by A. P. Jensen

  About The Author

  LOST IN WOLF DREAMS

  A. P. Jensen

  Copyright © 2014 A. P. Jensen

  All rights reserved.

  To the wolf inside of all of us.

  Chapter One

  Jillian tilted her head up to the sun and basked in the rays. She smiled sleepily and listened to the cacophony of sound from New York City traffic and pedestrians. Something niggled at the back of her mind, but she was too comfortable to care. She sipped coffee, stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles. She watched people walk, jog or bike by. She couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed… ever.

  Her shoe slipped off her foot. Jillian looked down and frowned when she saw baby blue stilettos that were a size too big. She would never buy a shoe in this color, much less wear it when it was the wrong size. She preferred neutrals and favored black most of the time since it went with everything. She looked down at her clothes and sat straight up in her chair. She wore a matching baby blue dress with a fluffed skirt like a costume from Alice in Wonderland. She ran a hand over the material to make sure this wasn’t some bizarre dream. What the hell?

  She got to her feet and tripped in her too big heels and looked up and down the sidewalk for an explanation. Was she being Punk’d? Had she destroyed her business suit and someone let her borrow her this? She looked down at herself again and blanched. This had to be some kind of joke. She sniffed her coffee, but didn’t smell liquor. She continued to scan her surroundings and looked across the street.

  Through the passing traffic, she saw a man standing on the sidewalk directly across from her. He caught her attention because he was the only person who wasn’t in a mad rush to get somewhere and he was so large. He wore jeans, a navy blue shirt and large aviator sunglasses. He had a square jaw and something about him made her take a wary step back. When he made no move, but continued to look in her direction, she told herself she was being ridiculous. He was probably staring at someone behind her in the cafe.

  Even as she braced herself to look away, he stepped forward. Tires screeched and taxis honked. She watched the stranger make his way through six lanes of traffic. He never looked right or left. He never looked away from her. As he closed the distance between them, she could practically feel his intent. She didn’t wait to see what that was. Jillian hobbled down the sidewalk in her oversized shoes. She curled her toes to hold onto the ugly stilettos and thanked her lucky stars she was used to heels. She dodged easily around other pedestrians who snickered as she passed. She shot several of them nasty looks as she limped/ran five blocks.

  When she couldn’t go any further, she looked around and didn’t see any sign of the crazy, suicidal hunk. Feeling foolish and a little unnerved, she slipped off the sidewalk into a dead end alley to catch her breath. She looked down at herself and raked her mind for an explanation. Her head throbbed and she instantly regretted leaving her coffee behind. Was that her first cup of the day? Maybe she could go back and-

  A huge figure moved off the sidewalk and into the alley with her. Jillian shrieked and scrambled backwards as the man with aviator glasses stalked her. Up close, he was larger than life. He was over six feet tall and he wasn’t skinny either. He was well muscled- not overtly so, but enough to make her realize she didn’t want to be alone in this alley with him. He didn’t say anything as he advanced on her. She came up against a solid brick wall and when he still showed no signs of stopping, she held up her hand as if she had super powers, which she didn’t. She ran feverish hands over the fluffy skirt, praying it concealed pepper spray, nun chucks or a gun. No luck. He tipped up his glasses and she felt her breath whoosh out of her. His eyes were a stunning silver in his otherwise dark features. He had tanned skin like a Latino and black hair too long to be labeled “clean cut.”

  “Hold it!” Jillian yelled.

  No impact whatsoever. As he came within striking distance, she raised her skirt and kicked. The stranger took it without pause. When she swung with all her might, he caught her fist almost casually. He gripped both of her hands and pinned them over her head. Even as she opened her mouth to scream for help, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Jillian jerked back so fast, she nearly knocked herself senseless when she hit the brick wall behind her. She tried to knee him in the crotch, but the damn skirt hindered her. He yanked her up so she couldn’t cause any damage, which put them at eye level. He cupped her chin and those eerie eyes moved over every inch of her face hungrily, making her stomach dip.

  “Why did you run from me?” he demanded.

  “I don’t wait around for muggers and rapists!” Jillian screamed. “Let go of me! Get off me!”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I don’t know you!” Jillian gasped as she struggled.

  He was like an army tank in front of her, immovable and unaffected by her attempts to get away from him. He gave her a sharp shake, which shocked her into looking at him. He was so furious, it made her stare at him, astonished. What the hell had she done to make him so angry? Maybe he really didn’t like older women dressed in costume… Or maybe he was just plain crazy.

  “Why did you come back to the city? You know it isn’t safe for you here.”

  Jillian bared her teeth. “I’ve lived in New York my whole life, buddy, and until you, I’ve never been mugged.”

  He frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t know you!”

  His hand collared her throat and she stiffened. It was a threatening hold and it made her heart pound in alarm. She bucked between him and the wall and couldn’t figure out which was more unyielding.

  “What do you mean, you don't know who I am?”

  “I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE!” she screamed and tried to bite him.

  He grabbed her jaw and turned her head to the side. He leaned close and inhaled. She couldn’t figure out if he was crazy, mistook her for someone else or was an angry perfume salesman offended that she wasn’t wearing his scent.

  He pulled back and met her wary eyes. “I’ve been looking for you for a week.”

  “What do you want with me? I’ve never met you!”

  “You really don’t know me? This isn’t some sick joke?”

  She enunciated since he was clearly insane. “I. Do. Not. Know. Who. The. Fuck. You. Are. Capisce?”

  He stared at her for a long minute as if trying to decipher if she was playing dumb. When she stared at him like the psycho he was, a growl started low in his chest. Plastered against him, she felt as if she was in the middle of a mini earthquake. Her eyes widened because she finally realized why her instincts were going off like a grandfather clock.

  “You’re a wolf,” she whispered.

  “And so are you.”

  She started. “Says who?”

  “I know a lot about you, Jillian.”

  “How?”

  He eased back to give her breathing room. “We’ve been together for a month.”

  She slid down the wall and even as her feet touched solid ground she asked, “What do you mean together?”

  He didn’t answer her question. He brushed her hair back from her face in a
gesture she found unsettling in a stranger. He must have her mixed up with someone else because she wouldn’t forget meeting a wolf, much less a guy who looked like him. As for his “together” comment- that was impossible. He wasn’t her type! She didn’t like big, hot, macho men.

  “I think there’s some kind of mistake-” she began, trying to sidle away from him.

  Two big hands planted on either side of her head, caging her. That gorgeous, scary face came within an inch of hers and she stopped breathing.

  “What's the last thing you remember?” he asked.

  What kind of question is that? He thought she couldn’t remember- Her mind went completely blank. Her heart rate sped up as she raked her brain for anything. There had to be something! She always kept a schedule, but right now she couldn’t remember a damn thing. She didn’t remember walking to the cafe or ordering the coffee she’d been drinking and… She ran a hand over the costume she wore and wriggled her toes in shoes that weren’t her own.

  “I was at the cafe and-” She wrung her hands.

  “Do you know where you live? What did you do this morning?”

  Her head throbbed painfully and she swayed. “I live on W 12th Street. I can’t remember what I did this morning. All I remember is sitting in front of the cafe.”

  People had moments like this, right? There were a handful of times when she woke in the morning and didn’t know what day it was, so maybe she was having the biggest brain fart of her life… Her stomach roiled and her breath came in fast pants. Large hands settled on her shoulders and cupped the back of her neck so intimately, she shoved against his chest. Her rejection of his touch didn’t bother him at all. He continued to stand way too close and handle her as if he had every right to.

  “It's going to be okay, baby. I'm here now,” he said, his earlier anger gone.

  That wasn't reassuring. “Who are you?”

  “Mac.”

  Mac? What kind of name was that? She focused on him instead of the panic that wanted to send her into hysterics. “What do you mean by together?”

  “We’ve been living together for a month.”

  “Living together?”

  There was something very wrong here. Either he was crazy or she was and she’d never been accused of that before. She never lived with a man in her life- much less a wolf. She never slept with a guy until they went on at least five dates and this wolf- she would never go on a date with him. She didn’t like bad boys and this guy had danger and heartbreaker written all over him. He looked like he could eat her ex-boyfriends for breakfast. She liked her men well mannered, refined and polite. Even at a glance, she knew Mac wasn’t that guy. Wasn’t she dating some banker? She couldn’t remember his name or face and it was making her nuts. Maybe if she asked her mom- Her head exploded with pain and she began to shake.

  Mac picked her up in his arms. At first she struggled because maybe the crazy bastard was going to stuff her into a van and take her to his lair, but Mac walked on the sidewalk, unconcerned with anyone’s interference. She opened her mouth to scream, but the worst migraine of her life scrambled her thoughts. She felt as if someone was stabbing her in the head. She couldn’t think or focus. She felt the ugly stilettos fall off her feet at some point, but was in too much pain to care.

  New York women stopped dead in their tracks and glared enviously at Jillian who lay like a limp, quivering baby in the arms of Mr. Universe. Several brave souls asked Mac if Jillian was okay, but he didn’t reply. She started to ask for help, but Mac put his hand over her mouth and continued walking. At some point, he entered a building and she tried to get out of his arms, but shook too badly to do much more than thump his shoulder without much force. Soothing air conditioning washed over her and she heard the jingle of keys. A door opened and closed and then Mac lowered her onto a comfortable sofa. Jillian opened her eyes and realized they were in her apartment. Her eyes flicked up to the key in Mac’s hands. When she tried to get to her feet, Mac pushed her back down. She stared at him, open mouthed.

  “Just relax,” he said.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  She tried to rise and was treated to that same gentle, but firm push back onto the sofa that told her she wasn’t going anywhere. She stared at the brute who was telling her what to do in her apartment. She listened for the sound of her mom’s voice, but there was only empty silence. Fear cascaded through her.

  “Mom!” she called.

  There was no sweet voice and no sound of footsteps coming down the hall. She surged off the couch and knocked Mac’s hand away so hard that she managed to get past him. She raced down the hallway and stopped in the doorway to her mom’s bedroom. The bed was made and all of her mom’s possessions were in place, but the room felt so empty. She opened the closet and drawers and nothing was disturbed, but something was very wrong here. She ran to her bedroom, which was as organized as usual. She spun in a circle, trying to figure out why the wolf inside of her let out a mournful howl. Bolts of pain knifed through her head and fear grabbed her by the throat. She ran back to the living room where Mac waited with his arms folded over his chest.

  “Where’s my mom?” she asked and her voice shook.

  For a moment, she wasn’t sure he would answer, but with his eyes trained on her face he said, “Your mom passed.”

  “Passed?” Jillian shook her head. “Passed where?” There had to be another definition to that word because she wouldn’t accept it.

  “She’s gone.”

  Jillian stared at Mac and waited for the punch line, but nothing happened. Mac’s expression didn’t change and there was a strange buzzing silence in her ears.

  “There was a burglary.”

  Her hands clenched at her sides. “You’re lying! Where did you put her?”

  The wolf within Jillian clawed to get free. It ravaged her insides so brutally, she hunched over and wrapped her arms around herself. Mac took a step forward and she released a snarl that would have shocked her, but she was beyond rational thought at the moment. Maybe her mom went to the store and this asshole was getting his kicks off by scaring her. There had to be an explanation and she wouldn’t accept that her mom “passed.”

  “Four weeks ago, two wolves broke into your apartment and your mom was killed. ”

  Her body iced over with shock and her head began to ring like a gong. She straightened and took a step towards Mac. His voice turned coaxing as he spoke to her, but she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart. She held herself so rigid, she trembled. She raised a hand and pointed to the door.

  “I want you out.”

  He held his hands up in the national gesture for peace.

  “I’m not lying, Jillian. We’ve been through this before. It’s been four weeks since she-”

  “Get out!” Jillian screamed.

  She wanted to attack him for telling such a whopping lie. She latched onto denial because it kept her sane. He couldn’t be telling the truth, but… something brushed against her memory. Even as she tried to grasp it, it slipped away like smoke. Why couldn’t she remember? Why couldn’t she remember the last time she’d seen her mom, why she was dressed this way or why this wolf knew her? She could feel herself unraveling and she needed to be alone.

  “I can help you,” Mac said.

  “No,” she said hoarsely. “You’ve helped enough.”

  “Jillian-”

  A growl rumbled in her chest and Mac reluctantly left. She locked and chained the door and walked down the hallway to her mother’s room. She inhaled to grasp even a lingering scent of her, but there was nothing. She stood in the middle of the room, closed her eyes and scraped her mind for a fragment of memory, but her mind was an empty canvas.

  Again, pain ruptured in her head and she staggered. She needed to lay down. She tottered to her bedroom and paused when she realized, she hadn’t gotten the key back from Mac, the psychotic wolf liar. She locked her bedroom door and closed the curtains to block out the sunlight. She crawled unde
r the covers and refused to cry. She wouldn’t believe Mac. Her mom wasn’t dead. She was… somewhere and as soon as her head stopped spinning, she would go out and find her. She couldn’t exist in a world without her mother.

  Chapter Two

  Jillian woke face down on her bed the next morning. She groaned and reached out for a pillow, but her hand closed on something soft instead. She blinked sleepily and stared uncomprehending at the white clouds for several seconds before her mind clicked into focus. She jerked upright in a pile of feathers and stuffing, which fluttered to the floor. She looked around her ransacked room. The door and walls had claw marks, the drawers in the corner were battered and wood splinters littered the floor. All that was left of the baby blue dress from the day before were strips of material. Her love seat was completely destroyed, cushions ruined beyond repair. All her work samples and notebooks, always carefully organized, were thrown around the room with her work papers shredded like confetti.

  Her first instinct was to blame Mac. Did he use the key to sneak into her room and destroy it? Jillian jumped out of bed stark naked and paused. He managed to get her out of the hideous dress without waking her up? Jillian pushed open the master bathroom and was relieved to see it was untouched. She reached for the faucet to splash water on her face and barely held back a bloodcurdling scream. The tips of her fingers were razor sharp black claws. Jillian shook her hands as if the claws were glue on, fake fingernails. She looked into the mirror and almost fainted. Her eyes were gold and her teeth were pointed and longer than normal, protruding past her bottom lip. Her face was half shifted into inhuman angles. Her breathing quickened and the muscles beneath her face began to move.

  Jillian shrieked and slapped her face like it was on fire and stumbled into the tub, fumbling with her claws to get the water on. She held her curled hands up to the spray and when they didn’t change, carefully tucked them away. Please don’t let me turn, she pleaded. Please. Oh, please. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed in the shower, but when she elbowed the faucet off and raised her hands, she nearly cried with relief when she saw they were back to normal. She wiped the fogged mirror and examined her eyes, which were back to her normal amber shade. She ran her tongue over teeth that were blunt, not pointy. She turned her face from side to side to make sure she wasn’t getting a muzzle and paused when she saw that her abdomen was badly bruised. She prodded her ribs gingerly and grimaced. Did she beat herself up last night?