The Wolves of Pray
Book One
Pray
By
Christine Bell
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Pray
Copyright© 2010 Christine Bell
ISBN: 978-1-60088-578-5
Cover Artist: Sable Grey
Editor: Darcy Quinn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
www.cobblestone-press.com
Dedication
For the Twinks at my crit group, Chapter by Chapter. Y’all are the bomb, like tick tick, I couldn’t have done it without you.
And for Bean, who opened her door with a beaming smile and a "Hi Babe!" whenever I came knocking, almost as if she’d been waiting for me all along.
I miss you.
Chapter One
Pray, Montana, October 23, 2009
Amalie cursed under her breath and shot the GPS suctioned to the windshield the evil eye. Right before the finish line, twenty-four hours into her twenty-five hour journey, the thing was on the fritz.
She’d hated it from the second she’d turned it on. The bitchy, smug recorded voice calling out instructions—a bewildering ten seconds too late—really rubbed her the wrong way. She’d dubbed the unit “Carole” after her sister, who rubbed her the exact same way. Carole—the GPS—had clearly decided the distaste was mutual, and was giving her the electronic equivalent of the middle finger by conking out in the middle of nowhere.
With a snort of disgust, Amalie pulled off to the side of the narrow road to use her blessedly silent map to try and figure out where the hell she was. She popped the SUV into park and stepped out of the car, the crisp air hitting her like a slap. As she turned to open the back door, a trickle of unrest skittered up her spine. She brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to her intense dislike of being lost.
She reached into the back seat and rifled through her well-worn pack to find the map and a highlighter. After grabbing her thermos of coffee, she tramped over to a birch tree a dozen yards from the road and sank down to spread out her map. The shrubs behind her rustled. She turned her head quickly toward the sound but saw nothing. Probably just a rabbit or a deer.
Up close, some might consider the forest intimidating, the hulking trees, the encroaching darkness, but to Amalie it represented freedom in the purest sense: freedom from the phone, the smell of exhaust, the sounds of horns blaring, and most of all, people. The woods were awe-inspiring, sure, and maybe a little creepy as dusk began to settle. Nevertheless, once she found her way to the entrance point, she would be hiking every inch of it for the better part of the next week. What better way to call attention to the plight of wolves in the area than to photograph them in their environment?
As she looked up and took in the beauty of the Montana sky, which somehow seemed bigger and bluer than any other sky, some of her tension drained away. This was supposed to be a working vacation, and she’d promised herself she would enjoy it.
Amalie reluctantly tore her gaze from the glorious view and turned her focus to getting back on the road. She pored over the map, relieved to find where she’d missed a turn. Carole had only cost her about fifteen minutes or so, and it was a relief not to have to backtrack very far.
She pulled the top off the marker with her teeth, snapped it onto the back and carefully highlighted her route so she could see it easily while driving. Satisfied, she leaned back against the tree and sipped her coffee, soothed by the warmth and the scent of Irish cream wafting from the thermos.
Just as her lids began to drift closed for a minute of rest and meditation, she saw a flash of brown. Amalie turned her head sharply and then chuckled. City life was clearly making her soft. She was going to be photographing all sorts of wildlife over the next week and jumping at every little thing wasn’t going to cut it. She needed to get a grip.
As she stood to gather her belongings, she froze as another sound came from behind her. This time, there was no chance it was her imagination.
Her heart tripped and her mouth grew dry at the low, menacing growl. She didn’t dare move as her body trembled from the strain of remaining still, despite every instinct urging her to flee. The growl continued, accompanied by the sound of slow, deliberate movement and the crunching of leaves, growing louder by the second.
Staying still was no longer an option. Whatever owned the sound was almost upon her and she refused to cower like a child. Straightening slowly and turning to face the beast, her blood ran cold. A large brown wolf crouched low, moving steadily closer, already less than fifteen yards away.
Wolves don’t attack humans, especially a lone wolf, she reminded herself. This particular wolf had obviously not gotten the memo, though, because its amber gaze locked on her, ears flattening against its skull as it padded closer.
Amalie gripped the highlighter tightly and cursed her bad luck that it wasn’t a pen or sharpened pencil that she might’ve used as a weapon. Now, the best she could hope for would be to strike the wolf in the eye with the open highlighter when it attacked. The worst? Well…she wouldn’t miss.
As the wolf moved closer, Amalie tried to think. She could make a run for the car. It wasn’t far, and she was fast. But even if she managed to get there, the time it took to open the door and get in would surely seal her doom. She had the thermos of coffee. While the liquid wasn’t hot enough to damage the thickly furred creature, the thermos itself was heavy and could be used as a bludgeon of sorts. Though the wolf seemed large, she might be able to aim a good swing and disorient it enough to dash to the car.
Either way, she was out of time—the wolf was closing in. She reached down slowly to grab the thermos, afraid that any quick movement would escalate the situation. She realized her mistake instantly. Her bent form was at its smallest and off balance when the beast leapt upon her. She slammed into the ground and the air whooshed from her lungs. The highlighter flew from her grasp, but she held on to the thermos. Doing her best to cover her neck and face with her free hand, she struggled for air. The wolf’s jaws closed around her side, puncturing her clothes and sinking into her flesh.
She let out an ear-piercing scream as she swung the thermos into the animal’s head. The wolf released her for a moment and glared at her malevolently. She raised her arm to deliver a second blow, but another low growl—this one behind her—stayed her hand. With mounting horror she realized that any slim hope she’d had of escaping this nightmare alive had just evaporated. Holding off one wolf had been a pipe dream, but fighting off a whole pack? Impossible.
Her thoughts derailed as she realized her initial attacker had ceased moving as well. The brown wolf peeled back its lips, let out an answering growl, and slowly stepped off of her, moving toward the sound behind her.
Everything seemed to slow as Amalie rolled to her uninjured side. She barely made it to her knees when the excruciating pain of the bite finally registered through her haze of shock. She fell back onto her side with a cry and turned her head to see the brown wolf approaching another wolf, this one much larger. A timber wolf, male.
Try as she might to formulate a plan, or move, or do…something, she could not take her eyes off the creature. He was magnificent. The largest wolf she’d ever seen, his coat a burnished bronze. He was so compelling that for a brief, surreal moment she cursed herself for not grabbing her camera when she got out of the car.
The timber wolf stopped gro
wling and, as if he felt her watching him, moved his gaze to hers. She gasped. His eyes were a molten gold flecked with green, and exuded the warmest, most intelligent light. In her peripheral vision, she saw the smaller brown wolf move to take advantage of the timber wolf’s distraction.
She screamed as it lunged, and the timber wolf feinted to the right. Amalie cringed as the smaller wolf closed its jaws onto his powerful neck muscles. He’d moved just in time, and was spared a killing bite to the jugular. He snarled in fury as he shook off his attacker and they began to fight in earnest, snarling and snapping at one another.
Amalie shook her head to clear it and fought the darkness threatening to pull her under. Struggling to her hands and knees, she tried to inch her way toward the car, all the while watching the battle. A scant few feet from the car, her vision began to blur. She looked down at her side where a trail of thick, bright red blood flowed steadily from the wound. Nausea threatened and she was forced to stop. Helpless, she turned to watch the battling wolves.
The smaller one wasn’t faring well and seemed to finally recognize it was outmatched. It broke away and started to run. Amalie waited for the massive timber wolf to pursue his foe, but instead, he turned his magnificent head in her direction and, panting from exertion, loped toward her. She tried to scuttle the last few feet to the car, but the last of her strength seeped away.
Amalie lay on her stomach and closed her eyes, willing death to take her before the timber wolf’s teeth tore into her flesh. Ironic that the very animals she had come here to save would kill her. She looked once again into the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. This time, however, they belonged to the face of a man. Then, she knew no more.
Chapter Two
Liam Albrecht was in a foul mood. And when Liam suffered, they all suffered with him. He prowled the large study in circles like a shark hunting its prey. All of his pent up frustration, anger, and worry had filled him with nervous energy and a violent sense of anxiety. He could cheerfully strangle someone right now.
The woman would live; he was certain of it. And while he was inexplicably relieved and comforted by that knowledge, it was also going to cause problems, major problems. His contemplation was interrupted by distant footsteps coming from the far end of the hallway. He could tell by the quick, purposeful stride and the faint scent of lemon it was Maggie. When the knock on the door came a minute later, he was seated behind his enormous walnut desk with his hands folded in front of him, awaiting her arrival.
She didn’t wait to be invited in, but swept through the door like a storm, stalked over to the desk and hissed, “What have you done, Liam? What the hell have you done?”
Narrowing his eyes, he stared at her hard for a long moment before she let out a shaky sigh and looked away.
“Let’s pretend that did not just happen and start over again, shall we?” He hated to pull rank, but she knew better than to challenge him.
She took a deep breath before she spoke again, this time, pasting a smile on her face. “I apologize. Yes, let’s start again. Please tell me what happened out there. Rumors are running rampant and I’m… We’re all very concerned.”
“I understand your concerns, but I’m not in the habit of explaining myself. I would never do anything to jeopardize this family. Trust me. Please let the rest of the pack know I’ve called a meeting with the area alphas for tomorrow night. I would rather control the situation and have the discussion on our turf than wait for them to contact me. Hopefully, the opportunity to speak and obtain answers will appease them for now. I have to work. Shut the door behind you.” He picked up the file on his desk and spun his chair around to face the fireplace.
Silence reigned for a taut moment, but finally Maggie’s heels sounded on the floor and the door closed with a defiant snap.
Liam let out a long, pent up breath and looked down at the file in front of him. He opened the cover and stared into the face of the woman at the root of all his troubles: Amalie Baptista. He took in the line of her jaw, the stubborn little chin, high cheekbones, and lips that were just a touch too full. But it was her eyes, those damn eyes, that had done him in. A brown so rich they were almost black, almond shaped, and tilted up at the corner. They laughed up at him from the photograph, almost mockingly.
He groaned and sat back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and repeated Maggie’s question, “What have you done, Liam? What the hell have you done?”
* * * * *
Amalie awoke groggy and confused. She tried to sit up but regretted it immediately as a throbbing ache in her side registered through the fog. Damn, she felt like someone had tried to rip her guts out.
She gasped as memories assailed her. Someone, no, something, had tried to rip her guts out. She’d been attacked by wolves! No, not wolves, she mentally corrected herself, wolf. She struggled to figure out what had happened after the dark-haired stranger rescued her, but gave up as her head began to pound from the effort.
Where was she? She jerked upright. Pain was eclipsed by fear and confusion as she did a quick survey of the room. It was dimly lit, opulent, and the size of her entire apartment back home. Not a hospital, and definitely not something she could afford in the way of a hotel room. Had the man who’d helped her brought her to his house?
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and realized she had nothing on but a t-shirt, so large it stopped only a few inches short of her knees. She heard footsteps outside the doorway and scuttled back under the blankets, covering herself from chin to toes.
She chided herself for the silly reaction. The visitor was likely the man who had saved her from bleeding to death. Odds were he wasn’t going to molest her. Then again, maybe he was some creeper who’d saved her only to fatten her up, befriend her, and then Buffalo Bill her later.
A soft knock sounded.
“Amalie? May I come in?” A deep, oddly familiar voice.
“Yes.” After all, if he planned on making a dress out of her skin, would he really have knocked?
As the knob turned, a tingle ran through her. Not born of fear, but of anticipation, which she didn’t understand. The door swung open, and she recognized him immediately: the stranger who’d helped her. A bit of the tension seeped out of her. She was glad he hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him. Her breath came out in a gasp as she met his gaze in the dim light.
“Hello,” he said after a long moment.
She remained mute and continued to stare at him. The man was…well, beautiful. Over six feet tall with dark hair, he was muscular without being bulky. His face was carved from stone. The severity of his straight nose and sharp cheekbones was undercut by the raw sensuality of his sculpted mouth. And while she took in those details with a quick glance, she was drawn again and again to those eyes. So familiar, a mix of gold and green she’d seen only once before, they burned into hers with an intensity that made her shiver.
* * * * *
Liam drank in the sight of the striking woman lying in his bed and fought a surge of possessiveness. From the second he’d laid eyes on her, he’d suffered a fierce—and puzzling—need to claim her. He tried to keep his voice calm and his presence as non-threatening as possible. Not an easy feat when he wanted to dig his fingers into her hair and kiss her senseless.
“How are you feeling?” Liam asked as he walked toward her.
“I’m okay. I mean, my side hurts and I have a terrible headache, but I’m okay.” She backed up on the bed, her eyes wide.
She looked like she was about to run screaming from the room, so he went to the fireplace under the pretense of adding wood in order to give her some space. The last thing he needed was for her to get spooked and take off. Then he’d have to chase her down, and that wouldn’t earn her trust, which he desperately needed if he was going to get them out of this mess.
“Who are you?” she asked. “What were you doing out there? And how did you manage to get
us away from the wolves?”
He paused a moment, trying to think of how to answer each question without scaring her, but knowing there was little time for coddling. Tomorrow night he had to meet with the others. He needed to have both a good explanation for his behavior and a resolution to the problem. The alternative was not something he wanted to think about.
He started off slowly, “My name is Liam Albrecht. You’re in my home just outside of Pray, Montana, a few miles from where you were attacked. I was out hiking when I heard the commotion. Now, I’m going to get you some food and something to drink. There’s some aspirin on your nightstand along with a bottle of water. I’ll be back soon. Try to rest while I’m gone. I’ll answer all of your questions when I get back. Don’t be afraid, Amalie. You’re safe here.” He turned to go.
“Wait!” she called, her voice shrill with panic. “Don’t go. Something…strange happened out there. I can’t remember, but I know something isn’t…” she trailed off, confusion clouding her dark eyes. He hated leaving her like this, but she needed time to rest and sustenance. If she didn’t regain some of her strength before he told her the truth, the shock could send her into a tailspin.
“One hour. I promise.” He left, shutting the door behind him.
Chapter Three
Liam finally made his way back to Amalie’s room—his room, rather, not that he planned on sharing it with her—with a dinner tray. He knocked, but received no answer. He let himself in, shutting the door behind him, and looked toward the bed. Amalie was sprawled out, dressed in only his t-shirt, the blankets kicked to the floor during what appeared to be a fitful sleep. He set the tray on a table next to the bed and meant to leave, but his mouth went dry as he stood over her. Man, was she gorgeous. Long, shapely legs and that ass… He pushed away the carnal thoughts.
Pray Page 1
