Shadow of the Wolf
Anastacia Kelley
©2013 Anastacia KelleyAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, journal or newspaper.
First printing
All characters in this book are purely fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Dedications
Thank God for giving me a passion for writing.
I want to give a big THANK YOU to my family for your support and encouragement.
I would also like to thank Serbian model, Marko Gerber, for gracing the cover and inspiring the character, Trevor Van Holden. I had almost exhausted my search for a man who would fit Trevor’s intensity and werewolf qualities. On a whim, I decided to Google ‘sexy male werewolves’. What a very nice surprise to see Marko’s picture on the 1st page. His eyes drew me in and I immediately knew he was the one.
Song of inspiration: Sitting on the Moon (Acretongue Remix) by Helalyn Flowers.
I hope you enjoy Trevor and Serenitee’s story and much as I enjoyed writing it.
Happy reading,
Anastacia Kelley
Prologue
The Van Holden Family Tree
1840-1930 great-great-great grandfather Joseph Van Holden, founder of Holden, Alabama
1865-1945 great-great grandfather Elijah Van Holden
1888-1958 great grandfather Andrew Van Holden
1923-1983 grandfather John Van Holden
1953-2003 father Craig Van Holden
1980-present Trevor Van Holden
Chapter One
Serenitee Snow pulled her SUV into the gravel driveway of her new home. She saw the realtor waiting patiently beside his own car, keys to her house in his hand.
Looking at it again, Serenitee couldn’t believe her good fortune. She practically got the house at a steal. Now, it was all hers and she could give the long abandoned mini mansion some much needed TLC.
Serenitee had decided it was time to move from the hustle and bustle of the city of New York to a more laid back kind of life. After months of looking on the internet and through a multitude of newspapers, she had found this piece of land. On it, sat a beautiful old two story house built in the mid 1800’s. It had plenty of space, lots of land and only one neighbor for miles, which was what she had wanted. The house was on the extension of property by the Van Holden estate. When she dug deeper, she found out that this Trevor Van Holden was heir to the town of Holden, Alabama. His great-great-great grandfather built the town up from practically nothing back in 1865 and now, being the only Van Holden left, it belonged to Trevor.
When she found the information about the house on the internet, she thought it was too good to be true. A four bedroom/four bathroom home with a large kitchen, a dining room with a stone fireplace and a library, which held hundreds of books, that was for sell for well below the asking price seemed like a hoax. Her mom had taught her that if something sounded too good to be true, it probably was. So, Serenitee called the realtor in charge of selling this historic home. She couldn’t believe her ears when the realtor confirmed that the price of the home she saw in the advertisement was the real price. He was even willing to go down from there. But he didn’t go into any detail whatsoever about Trevor Van Holden when she’d asked. She just assumed he didn’t know that much about him personally.
Serenitee couldn’t help but wonder why such a gorgeous home with this much historic value was so dirt cheap. They usually sold for a small fortune and then some. Serenitee decided not to tempt fate and look any further. It was possible that someone might find out this home was in the market and buy it right out from under her. She told the realtor, Mr. Stilman, that she was willing to buy it now before another person snatched it up. Surprisingly, he informed her that she was the only person who had asked about the home in over ten years.
The only time Serenitee saw these kinds of houses that inexpensive, it usually meant the place was haunted by some dark history or some kind of crime had taken place within its walls. Serenitee had heard no such thing about this home when she had asked Mr. Stilman about the price. She even jokingly asked if it was haunted.
Mr. Stilman didn’t seem to get the joke but said quietly, “If only.”
Serenitee decided not to let that remark bother her. She wanted the house and now she got it. She didn’t believe in silly superstitions, ghosts or things that went bump in the night anyway. She came here to get away and to get some peace and quiet. She wanted to work on her new novel and this was a perfect place to spark some new creative ideas.
Serenitee stepped out of her vehicle, locked the doors and walked with Mr. Stilman to the front door.
“Well, Miss Snow,” Mr. Stilman said, handing over the house keys, “it’s all yours. I hope you enjoy your new home.”
Serenitee’s heart jumped in anticipation as she took the keys. “Thank you, Mr. Stilman. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.” She unlocked the door. “Did you want to come in?”
Mr. Stilman looked surprised and shook his head. “No, I must be heading back. I have some paperwork to finish. Call me if you need anything.” By the sound of his voice, he only half meant it.
Serenitee nodded. “Thanks.” She watched him get into his car and quickly speed away. Serenitee couldn’t stop a chuckle. She was sure Mr. Stilman was overdramatizing the situation. Didn’t she once hear that people from the South loved a good story and loved to embellish it a little? She figured this just happened to be one of those times.
She would just have to get used to a different life style here.
Serenitee was about to take a step into her new home when, out of the corner of her blue eyes, she saw a dark figure cross. She turned and found a man looking at her. She knew it was her new neighbor and decided to be hospitable. She waved and said hello.
He nodded her way briefly and walked away towards his own home.
Yes, she thought, puzzled. I’m going to really have to learn to adjust to this place.
Serenitee shrugged it all off and stepped beyond the threshold of her new home.
It was going to need about a week of elbow grease to get everything in order and how she wanted it. She loved hard work and the weather was perfect this time of year. She would have to raise the windows and let the fresh air carry away the staleness. The air was perfumed with wild flowers and the sun was shining. She couldn’t ask for more.
Serenitee looked around for a while, making mental notes on what needed to be done and supplies she would have to buy. After about an hour of perusing her new home, her stomach began to rumble.
She decided to stop at the local café before shopping for supplies.
Serenitee introduced herself to Mrs. Greene, the owner of a quaint little eatery people called the ‘Down Home Café’. Everything here was made from scratch and smelled like a piece of heaven.
Mrs. Greene pointed Serenitee to a seat at the bar. She scanned the plastic covered menu. Her mouth watered at all the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.
“Well, dear.” Mrs. Greene smiled and offered Serenitee a glass of water. “You must be new around here.”
Serenitee laughed. “Is it that easy to tell?”
“Well, you do look a bit different than most of the locals. ‘Sides, I know everyone that comes in to eat here. I know everybody in this town. You ain’t one of ‘em.”
Serenitee didn’t know whether to be hurt or flattered. “I am new to this state. I just moved here from New York.”
Mrs. Greene patted Serenitee’s hand. “Don’t pay too much a
ttention to me. I tend to run off at the mouth from time to time. ‘Course, all the locals know what to expect of my chatter. You stay here long enough; I’m guessin’ you will, too.”
Serenitee considered her words carefully. “I do plan on being here quite a while.”
“At the risk of soundin’ nosy, do you mind if I ask you where you’re stayin’?”
“Up at the old Van Holden estate. I purchased the house that had been for sale for about ten years. My realtor, Mr. Stilman, couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell me much about why that beautiful old house had stayed vacant for so long. He clammed up when I asked him about Trevor Van Holden.”
Serenitee looked up from her menu to see the color drain from the owner’s face.
“Mrs. Greene? Are you all right?”
Mrs. Greene shook her head and cleared her throat. “Oh, shucks, hon. Don’t mind me. I ain’t what I used to be.” She leaned in closer. “Between you and me, I wouldn’t go askin’ around about Trevor or the Van Holden estate.”
“May I ask why?”
“Bad blood.” Like Mr. Stilman, she said no more about it. “Have you decided what you wanna eat? We have a special today. Country fried steak with white gravy, green beans, mashed potatoes, cornbread or buttermilk biscuits and some of my world famous German chocolate cake for dessert.”
Serenitee gasped. “Wow. I’m going to have to get used to the cooking, too. I have to admit, it smells wonderful in here. I can’t say that a bowl of lettuce topped with bean sprouts has the same appeal.”
Mrs. Greene laughed and looked at Serenitee’s frame. “Little thing like you, a hearty plate of Southern cookin’ is just what you need. If you’re fixin’ up the Van Holden place, you’re gonna need it. A few leaves of lettuce ain’t gonna get you through the door.”
Serenitee laughed warmly. “You don’t have to talk me into it. I’ll take that special with the cornbread and a glass of sweet tea.”
Mrs. Greene gave Serenitee’s hand another motherly pat. “One special, comin’ up. Since you’re gonna be here for a while, I consider you family. Call me Rue. Everybody around here does.”
“Thanks, Rue.”
Yeah, she just might like it here.
Chapter Two
Filled to the gills with what Rue called ‘good ole Southern cookin’’, Serenitee felt she had absorbed enough calories to clean the entire town of Holden. But, she would definitely do it again. The food was the best she’d ever had. They didn’t feed you like that up North.
Serenitee walked to the back of her SUV and began unloading the supplies she bought at the local store. She closed the door and hoisted the two large bags in her arms.
“Need any help?” asked a deep male voice.
Startled, Serenitee whirled around, dropping one of the bags. Her supplies littered the ground at her feet.
He bent down and started picking up her supplies and putting them back into the paper sack. When he finished, he grabbed the bag and gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I scared you. Here,” he said, reaching for her other bag. “Let me take these in for you.”
Serenitee let him take her purchases. “Thanks.” She led him up the steps of the porch and he waited until she walked in before following. She smiled inwardly at his chivalry, glad to see it wasn’t completely dead.
Her mouth watered at his backside. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the natural sway of his hips or his thick, toned thighs, which looked to be at the point of exploding out of his worn jeans.
“Where do you want these?” He turned to find her staring at him. He didn’t know whether to be uncomfortable or aroused. Maybe a little of both if the truth be told.
Serenitee pointed to the kitchen table as she stumbled over her words. “T-there would be fine.” As he turned to place her packages on the table, she took the small opportunity to take a breath to steady her nerves and to study her new neighbor for a moment. He was a large framed, brooding type of man. He was ruggedly handsome with a few crows’ feet at his eyes. He had about half a day’s worth of a beard on his strong jaws. Serenitee liked a man with a little ‘scruff’ to him. His brown hair, a few locks here and there having been kissed by the sun, was unkempt, nearly touching the collar of his black shirt, but it suited his look rather well. When he turned around, she could see a fine sprinkling of chest hair peeking where he’d left a few buttons open. Serenitee could see an almost feral look in his light green eyes. Her heart skipped a beat when his tongue licked at his lips. And what beautiful, kissable lips they were. They were sinfully plump and pink. She wondered how many women would line up for a taste of them. He canted to one side, resting the majority of his weight on one leg. He hooked a thumb in one pocket of his jeans and Serenitee felt like she’d eaten a spoonful of sand.
Oh, he should come with a warning label. ‘Being near this man could cause heart palpitations, clammy hands and wet dreams. Proceed with caution.’
“Serenitee?” He cocked his head at the name. “Unique name. I’m Trevor Van Holden.” He shook her hand. He noted how his hand engulfed hers. She was small boned and fragile looking to him. Then again, most women were small compared to his large muscular build.
She shrugged. “My mom loved poetry.” She hoped that didn’t sound like a lame excuse.
“Ah. I see.” He looked around the old place as if recalling memories of his youth. She caught a wistful look in his eyes. He turned his focus back on her. “I came over to offer my help and to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“Yeah,” he smiled sheepishly. “For my behavior earlier. I should’ve introduced myself then. It wasn’t very neighborly to just nod and leave.”
Serenitee shrugged it off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I lived in New York. Your greeting was more than some do up there.”
Trevor knitted his dark brows. “That’s not nice. And neither was I.”
Serenitee smiled. “Well, then, apology accepted.”
The corners of his mouth upturned graciously. “Thanks.”
Serenitee gave him a slight shrug. “Hey, maybe you weren’t feeling like yourself earlier. We’ve all been there at one time or another, you know?”
She didn’t know the half of it. He certainly wasn’t going to fill her in on any of the grim details. She’d run screaming from this house, not caring what she had paid for it. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. He knew he could be a little intimidating at times. Lord knows, he didn’t go out of his way to be a jerk. It kind of crept up on him when he least expected it.
And now, this beautiful woman was living a few hundred feet from his home. The thought made him more than a little nervous. He just prayed she slept like the dead.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. I know you have a lot of work ahead of you, fixing up the place. But feel free to ask me for any help for any of the heavy lifting or anything else you might need.”
Serenitee smiled gratefully. “Will do. I’m no stranger to hard work, though. I could use it, to tell you the truth.”
Trevor raked his hand through his hair. He couldn’t tell her that her shape looked more than all right to his eyes. He said instead, “Good luck. Just make sure to ask for my help if you need it. I’ll see you around then?”
Serenitee tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “That would be great. You can come over for dinner one night as soon as I get the kitchen in order. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds fine to me. As long as I don’t have to eat my own cooking, I’m game,” he said with a lopsided grin.
A few hours into her work scrubbing the hallway, Serenitee wiped the sweat from her stinging eyes. As a result, she tripped over a loose floor board and yelped as she landed on her hands and knees.
She sat up and clapped the dust off her palms and rubbed her smarting knees.
“Crap,” she muttered through clenched teeth. She examined the board and pulled at it. Surprisingly, it offered little resistance and came away without muc
h effort on her part.
Serenitee looked inside the darkness and swept away a couple of ancient looking cobwebs. She felt around blindly until her hand brushed across what seemed to be old leather. She grabbed the rectangular object and pulled out an old leather bound book……journal? Maybe a diary? All she saw was an imprint reading ‘1865’ in gold.
“Why would someone hide such a beautiful old book like this?”
She examined it more closely.
What if this was Trevor’s?
It was hidden for a reason.
Her fingers itched to open it. If curiosity killed the cat, she would’ve been dead years ago. So, she might as well take a small look.
She knew she really shouldn’t, she was a nosy person, but something stronger than she compelled her to do just that.
Just a peek, she reasoned to herself.
She opened to the first page and let out a surprised gasp.
The title read: Shadow of the Wolf. The Real Truth about Werewolves.
Serenitee crinkled her brows tightly. Surely, this was someone’s work of fiction? There wasn’t any ‘real truth’ in werewolves. They were merely a myth concocted by someone’s weird, albeit entertaining, imagination.
She shook her head and decided it was best to close the book for now. She had more pressing matters and they didn’t involve old fables of the four legged kind. But she couldn’t bring herself to put the lovely book back into the cavity of the floor. Instead, she replaced the board and took the old book upstairs and put it in her nightstand.
Right now, she needed to finish dusting the living room book shelves before it got dark.
Serenitee stepped into the shower and let the warm water sluice over her sweat drenched and sore body. She managed to make a lot of headway today. At least the kitchen was spotless. She was starved and wanted to make herself a sandwich before retiring to bed----and to that peculiar book.
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