by Sean Thomas
The Boy
and His Wolf
A WOLVES OF AMBER PINES NOVELLA
SEAN THOMAS
Copyright 2014 Sean Thomas
Smashwords Edition
Tanner never thought he'd be back in Amber Pines or back in Dash's bed.
But four years and 1,000 miles wasn't enough distance to make him forget the power of first love. Sure, he spent his time training with one of the world's top Hunters and he's no longer the scrawny teenager he used to be. But now that his former pack is threatened, Tanner is again involved in the dangerous life he thought he left behind.
Do Tanner and Dash have a second chance or has his werewolf made his heart as impenetrable as his body? With an all-out battle raging, Tanner must find his place in the new Amber Pines or be shut out forever.
Copyright © 2014 by Sean Thomas.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Sean Thomas
www.seanthomasauthor.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Art:
Model In a Hoodie: Copyright © by vishstudio, DepositPhotos
Trees in the Forest Wilderness: Copyright © by Graphicstock
The Boy and His Wolf/ Sean Thomas. -- Smashwords ed.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
A Thank You From The Author
Author Biography
Dedication
This book is for every person without a pack.
Amber Pines will always welcome you.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Amy Denim for the countless hours spent helping make this possibility into a reality. Without her help in every step along this journey, I would still be a clueless writer hoping to one day have a book to call my own.
I cannot thank you enough.
Diane Whiddon, your words of support and fantastic critiques pushed me to improve where I had weakness and accept where I had strength. You rock.
To my family and friends who have supported me on this journey, I appreciate you lending me your ears and your support. I couldn’t ask for a better pack of my own.
Finally, thank you to Our Last Night for showing me that stars can be pulled down when the darkness threatens to blind us.
CHAPTER ONE
Blood dripped over my lip and into the deep grooves of the hardwood floor.
Well, that hurt. Two split lips in twenty minutes? I’m usually better than this.
I immediately rolled to the side, narrowly missing the stomp of a leather boot, and threw myself back onto my feet. When the next fist was about to hit the other side of my face I grabbed his wrist, twisted it to the side, and head butted him right in his nose.
“Glugh.” The sound was from the spurt of blood or his audible reaction to the hit, I wasn’t sure. Either way, gross.
He fell to the ground, cradling his nose, and I whirled around just in time to block a kick intended for my neck. The new attacker came out of nowhere.
“Enough with my face,” I called out. I just healed from the last cut along my cheek and I didn’t need another one.
She was smaller in build and much faster than her male counterpart. I turned just as she let loose a series of kicks in my direction. It was all I could do to block each attack. I was fast, but I wasn’t that fast. She had conditioned her body for speed and she excelled at it. Taking blow after blow, my eyes scanned around for a weapon, anything I could use to put some distance between us. A half broken stick lay some five yards to my left, but when I attempted to turn out of the attacker’s reach, my gut suffered a kick.
Hunter rule #4: Never take your eyes off your attacker.
Before the air had fully escaped my lungs, a fist joined with the other side of my face. So much for my flawless good looks.
Luckily the punch had given me just the amount of distance I needed to grab the stick and raise it to shield yet another kick aimed at my torso. Then she unsheathed a combo blade.
“Now that’s cheating,” I said, cracking my neck from side to side, loosening up my already sore muscles.
She gave a mischievous grin and I smiled right back. Now we could have some fun.
The blade cut through the air with zero resistance. She wielded it like an extension of her arm, perfected by years of training, and had I not received the same training I would definitely be shredded by now.
I whipped the stick at her wrists, aiming to knock the blade from her hand, but we were evenly matched. Two Hunters in a dance only we knew.
The blade came down like lightning with a vengeance and I angled the stick to push her arm to the side, allowing me to step in close enough to smash into her middle with the force of my shoulder. She may have had speed, but I had strength, and she flew back, landing hard on her butt.
The knife fell from her hand and by the time she started to raise herself I had the blade at her throat.
“Checkmate,” I told her.
She fell back against the ground and threw her hands up, accepting defeat.
“Two out of three…you win,” she said.
“We’re even now.” I helped her to her feet, handing the knife back to her.
A man with tissue stuffed in his nose walked up to us.
“Really, Tanner?” he asked, his voice nasally. “My nose… again?”
I slapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry Jack, but you know how I feel about being socked in the face.”
The man was twenty years my senior and in better shape than I could ever hope to be at his age. A former MMA fighter, Jack Rios had the build of a tank and was decorated with tattoos like an inner city alley. I didn’t feel too bad about the nose, especially because it had been broken so many times in his life that it couldn’t look any more jagged.
“Our top model here needs to keep his money maker,” Noelle said and she cradled my face in her hands. “God knows you would be on the street without it, looking for some rich daddy to make you his house boy.”
I shook the thought vigorously from my head and headed for my bag. Jack’s second-story loft doubled as our gym most days and I was thankful that he kept the air-conditioning set to sub-zero.
“Great workout, guys,” I said, digging for my cell phone.
I was expecting a phone call from a company I had applied to a couple of days ago. Noelle was right about me about to be homeless. My part-time retail job was not paying my bills and I seriously needed to make some cash. Nine to Five job, where art thou?
Then there was my unofficial job as a Hunter. Fighting the supernatural baddies of Los Angeles meant I definitely needed health insurance. I was still paying off my last trip to the ER for the shattered elbow I received from fighting a Wraith. That experience wasn’t pleasant.
Disappointment accompanied frustration at
seeing no missed calls. What was the point of a college education if you couldn’t get a job after?
I did have one new text message though.
RICHTON’S DEAD. WE THINK POISONED BY A RIVAL PACK. –Marco
Everything stopped. Blood rushed so fast from my head, I dropped to the bench before I passed out. My former pack’s Alpha was murdered. How was this possible? My eyes kept reading the text over and over, but my brain couldn’t comprehend the words. Bile crept up the back of my throat, spicy and toxic, and I held it at bay with a gulp of the cold air.
“You alright?” Noelle was next to me, her hand on my shoulder. “You need some water?”
I shook my head, staring at the screen. Noelle reached down and angled the phone towards her.
“Oh my God,” she said, sitting down next to me.
I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding and drew the cold gym air back into my lungs, feeling the burn along my throat.
“That was your old pack’s Alpha, right?” she asked.
“Yeah. Killed by a rival pack.” My words sounded foreign. “I can’t believe that.”
“I’m sorry, Tan,” she reassured me.
Noelle took the phone from my limp hand and showed it to Jack.
“Shit man,” he responded, dragging his last word out.
“I gotta go, right?” I asked, looking to both of them for the answer I already knew.
Noelle looked at Jack. “I mean…you don’t have to. You don’t owe them anything.”
I dragged my hands over my sweaty face. “I owe that man a lot, actually. He accepted me, a human, into a wolf pack and then started my training.”
Noelle sat next to me, her hand on my shoulder calming the swirl of emotions that were beginning to pound through my skull. For the four years I’d been in California, Noelle was my closest friend and ally. As a fellow Hunter, someone tasked with protecting innocent people from supernatural creatures who would do them harm, I trusted her judgment. She knew about my past and the reasons behind why I left Amber Pines, my small mountain town in Colorado.
The scratch marks, four slashes across my right shoulder blade, heated up, slowly at first and then to a white hot sting. I grabbed at it and could feel the scar tissue under my shirt, jagged and tender.
“Your mark burning?” Noelle asked, surprise dancing across her face.
I nodded and looked away, not wanting her to see my loss of control and vulnerability.
When my scar burned like the center of the sun it meant that Dash could feel my current emotions. Four years and two states between us had helped me to control the link we shared, but I hadn’t been prepared for the news I just learned.
“Dammit.” I shoved the gym bag to the floor, stood and walked away, pulling at my hair.
I had sworn I was never stepping foot in Amber Pines again. When I left, I left for good. It was my choice and my sacrifice. But Richton was dead. He was a good man. Correction, he had been a good man. God, he was only ten or so years older than me. He couldn’t have been more than 33 or 34. And someone had murdered him. An attack like this on the Alpha left the rest of the pack vulnerable and an easy target. It meant that the shit was just beginning.
I stopped walking once I reached the window and looked out at the city street two floors below. This was my home now. Not Amber Pines. I gave up Colorado forests and wolf packs for smoggy air and overpriced coffee.
Noelle’s light steps approached me and I turned to face her, feeling the tightness of my frown and the clench of my jaw.
“You don’t have to go.” Her tone indicated my loyalty was no longer to the pack.
“Of course I have to go. My father’s still there. My old friends are in danger now.”
Dash could be in danger.
His face appeared in my mind and my body clenched, unprepared for the physical and emotional ambush that tagged along. Thanks to the supernatural scar he had given me, we were linked for life. It didn’t matter that we’d been broken up for four years. No, Dash would always be my mate. I had proof of that, too. Failed relationships and disastrous one-night stands reaffirmed to me that no other man would ever compare to the werewolf. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to like somebody or how attractive another man was, my response to them was just above zero. Sure, I could probably get it up long enough to bang out some sexual frustration, but I would never be able to emotionally feel anything.
“I have to go…tonight,” I said, sighing at my realization.
“Yeah, ok.” Her voice fell from a platform of support.
I raised my brows and flashed her a half smile, trying to reassure her I would be alright. Jack held out my gym bag and he shook my hand firmly. It was his way of wishing me well, I guessed. Then I was out of there, leaving my perfectly imperfect life behind.
CHAPTER TWO
Beef jerky wrappers and energy drinks littered my passenger seat and I was almost through the third full playlist of music on my phone. My legs twitched with restlessness and I was completely fed up with driving. Living in L.A. meant that I didn’t drive often and this long in the car made my skin crawl. I was used to short transit rides, not a trip across the country.
“Home sweet home,” I muttered as the Amber Pines County Limits sign came into view. My left foot tapped out a warning in Morse code, but I reassured myself that in a couple of days, once I made sure my father and friends were alright, I would be out of here.
The sun was just rising and a good number of cars started to appear on the road. City life was so different from the hustle and bustle of small town living. In a place like Los Angeles most places stayed open for 24 hours, but here, in the mountains, people rose before the sun and went to bed just after it set.
I inhaled deeply and fought the urge to close my eyes and bask in the crisp, clean air. One thing I would never adjust to is the filthy smog that billowed through Los Angeles. There was something about this thin Colorado mountain air that filled my spirit.
Amber Pines was beautiful, I would give it that, but it was also just as deceiving as an adorable wolf pup. Enticing on the outside, but once you’re face first in soft fur, you’re already in the death trap.
I scratched at my perpetually itching scar for the hundredth time since I left. As my fingers traced the four claw marks Dash came to mind. Luckily, I was back in control of my emotions, well mostly, but I knew that Dash could feel me getting closer with each and every mile. A good portion of my trip was consumed with what it would be like when I saw him again. How different would he look? What would he think when he saw how much muscle I gained?
The thought of seeing Dash again eroded my stomach lining as much as it sent a good portion of my blood flow to my groin. Would he snub me or would he be happy to see me?
“Hah.” I laughed out loud.
Dash was never happy, at least not like most people. Dashiell Howell was unlike any man I ever met. With a body built for sex, he was all lean muscle and pure stamina. An everlasting glare defaulted to his face while his lower half filled out too tight jeans. Mix in a natural scent of burning wood and I had a hard time staying off my hands and knees. Marco told me last year that Dash was a Park Ranger now and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of him in that dorky uniform more than once or twenty times.
The scar began to burn just as my pants tightened. Shit, think of something else.
I picked up my cell phone, telling my guilty conscious that texting while driving this one time was alright, and sent Marco a quick message.
SHOULD BE THERE IN SIXTY.
Marco and I had agreed to meet for breakfast in town, but I wanted to drop my stuff off at my dad’s and grab a quick shower first. Out of everyone in the pack, Marco was the one person I stayed in contact with the most. He was like a brother to me and I wanted to meet with him first to make sure the pack was alright with me showing up.
While I agreed with Marco that everybody would be more than happy to see me, I technically was no longer in a relations
hip with Dash and therefore was no longer a part of the pack. Wolf laws were crazy and confusing and had always given me a headache.
I pulled up to the house where I had become a man in more ways than one. The same splintered yellow paneling sprouted from behind overgrown weeds. Each crack in the wood a lifeline. A memory. The broken shutter from when I almost hit a baseball through the window. The hole in the porch from a tiangou attack.
Standing outside the house, I took the spare key from the fake rock that lined the bushes. You would think my father, the Sheriff, would know better than to hide a house key in a faux rock, but he always said, “If somebody wants to come breaking into the Sheriff’s house, they better know I have the best guns in town.”
I slipped the key into the lock and a shiver immediately ran over my body.
Hunter rule number 2: always trust your gut.
I stood still for a moment and focused my hearing on the sounds around me. Leaves blowing slightly in the wind. Normal. No sounds of birds or squirrels. Not normal. I slipped my right hand into my bag, feeling the cold steel of my AR-24.
Wait for it. Wait for it.
Crunch.
My gun was facing the direction of the sound before my bag hit the porch, trigger finger itching to put a hole in whatever bastard of a creature thought it could sneak up on me. My eyes scanned the surrounding yard for anything that was out of place.
“Give me one fucking reason,” I whispered as my adrenaline pumps activated.
Another crunch and then between two pines came a muzzle and fluorescent eyes so green they looked radioactive. It emerged from between the pine trees like oil spilling through grass. Large. Sleek. All of its senses focused on me and the gun. I didn’t recognize this wolf and that meant it was either a new pack mate or a rival. He had about five seconds to indicate which one he was before I put fifteen rounds into him. Contrary to popular belief silver doesn’t do a damn thing when it comes to shifters. An entire round of ammunition on the other hand does the trick pretty well.
