Real Men Howl_Paranormal Shapeshifter Werewolf Romance

by Celia Kyle

  Real Men Howl

  Real Men Shift

  Celia Kyle

  Marina Maddix

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  About the Authors

  Blurb

  Mason’s inner wolf will go crazy without her. Lucy thinks he’s already crazy. Werewolves aren’t real. Right?

  Lucy Morgan left Ashtown, Georgia, ten years ago and planned to never return. Unfortunately, life didn’t get that memo. She’s back and now painful memories follow her everywhere. Until she meets him. Mason Blackwood is over six feet of sinfully gorgeous man who—for some reason—wants her. He also thinks he’s a werewolf so… yeah. He’s crazypants. But when he wants to have his wicked way with her, his sanity doesn’t seem all that important anymore.

  Mason isn’t sure how much longer he can remain Alpha over the Blackwood pack. Without a mate to balance him, his wolf snatches more control every day. It won’t be long before he loses himself to the animal entirely. Then he meets Lucy—a sassy, curvaceous beauty who calms his beast with a smile. One sniff is enough to tell him she’s his mate, and nothing will keep them apart.

  Not even the pack’s deadliest enemy who’s determined to kill Lucy before Mason can claim her.

  Chapter One

  Mason doubted anyone would take him up on the offer, but he figured he’d ask anyway. Who knew, maybe there was a wolf in his pack that needed an ass kicking.

  He glanced around the clearing, eyes passing over the others. “Who wants to spar with me?”

  The glade lay not far from Blackwood pack house, their territory deep in the woods atop a Georgia mountain. Mason and his two younger brothers, Kade and Gavin, had spent many happy—and unhappy—hours in training with the old man. All three of them had practiced controlling their shifts as pups, popping in and out of their wolf form on their father’s command. As they’d grown older, they’d learned to fight in the clearing—both as men and beasts. The place held a lot of memories for every member of the Blackwood pack.

  Mason yanked his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to his youngest brother, Gavin. Then he bounced from foot to foot, loosening up before his fight. “Okay, who wants to try their hand at besting their alpha?”

  The men who’d gathered for early morning training glanced at each other, uncertainty clouding their expressions, and not a one moved. Even Kade and Gavin appeared wary. Yeah, he couldn’t blame them for their reaction, but there was no stopping himself either. His wolf howled, the need to hit something riding him hard. The need to release some of his pent-up aggression nearly sending him over the edge. It tore at him, straining his skin and threatening to turn him into a mindless beast.

  “Come on, Mason.” Kade rolled his eyes. “We’re here to train the sentries, not see a display of your magnificence.”

  Mason ignored Kade’s sarcasm and scanned the group of ten or so young wolves. He peeled his lips back, flashing his human-shaped teeth in a feral grin. “What’s the problem, ladies?” He held his arms out to his sides. “I promise I won’t bite.”

  Every male in the clearing looked away… except one.

  Mason’s wolf rumbled in approval, the animal perking up at the idea of unleashing his violence. “Anders, you’re up. Although, I’m not sure it’ll be a fair fight. In jeans that tight, you’ll be lucky to get in one kick before I take you down.”

  “What I want to know,” Anders chuckled and shook his head. He tugged off his own shirt and padded closer to his alpha, “is why you’re looking at my pants.”

  Mason’s smile broadened, and the harsh edge of his bloodlust shaved off with the joke. “Just wondering if they come in men’s sizes is all.”

  Anders narrowed his gaze and crouched into a ready position, fists poised in front of his face.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mason snorted and then eased right to circle the man.

  He didn’t crouch low like Anders. Instead, he stood tall while he countered the other wolf’s circles. Anders’ shuffled steps brought him close but always just out of reach. Not that Mason was ready to attack.

  Truthfully, he hoped Anders would submit before his wolf was challenged. Deep down, he knew Kade was right. He shouldn’t be sparring with any of ‘em. Train them? Yes. Absolutely. Spar one on one? When need rode him hard and his anger was on a hair trigger? No. It wasn’t fair. More than that, it was dangerous in his current mood. Mason had superior strength, speed and wits. Anders was a good sentry, but he stood absolutely no chance of winning. Fuck his chance of learning anything. Yet Mason couldn’t force himself to stand down.

  Anders lunged and then scurried back. Mason didn’t even blink, much less flinch. He’d seen Anders’ intent in his eyes a split second before the other wolf tried the bit of misdirection. Mason had seen too much in his life to be fooled by such an obvious feint. Still, his heart pumped fast and hard, and his wolf growled to be set free. They were both ready for a fight—for a win—even one as lopsided as this battle would be.

  “Mason,” Gavin called out to him. “Knock it off, already.”

  Mason’s gaze shot to his brother, eyes narrowed in warning. Anders took advantage of that hint of distraction. Obviously, Anders had thought his alpha was distracted. That maybe he’d gain the upper hand. He was wrong.

  Anders leapt forward, his right arm cocked back, and left lowered a hint too much. Leaving himself open, it was easy for Mason to jab the wolf in the nose—the crack of bone signaling he’d broken his sentry’s nose. The wolf shook his head, sending blood to splatter on the dirt as he tried to clear his head after the painful punch.

  Mason hadn’t even put much effort into the strike.

  “And that’s enough,” Kade strode forward until he stood between the men.

  Mason’s wolf bristled, furious at his brother for stepping between him and his prey. He caught his brother’s eye and snarled his displeasure. “Get back and stay back.” His gums throbbed, wolf fighting to push his fangs free. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

  Mason ignored his brother’s frown. He also ignored the expressions of the other sentries. They’d never seen their alpha so uncontrolled—so on edge—but he couldn’t stop himself. Besides, everyone needed to blow off steam occasionally.

  “Get up,” he snapped at Anders. “You’re fine.”

  Anders sprang to his feet, still wiping the torrent of blood from his nose. The wolf wavered in place, a bit less steady than before, but fight still lingered in his hungry stare. Anders bounced from foot to foot, moving sideways as he and Mason circled each other. Every few seconds, one would push forward and throw a jab, the other avoiding it easily.

  “Good,” Mason grunted, though he was anything but happy about his opponent’s ability to evade him. “You’re quick on your feet, but you can’t bounce around like a bunny all day.”

  “Maybe you can’t,” Anders gave Mason a cocky wink. “It’s easy when you’re young.”

  If Anders had said that to anyone else, Mason would have laughed. Trash talk was expected while sparring. Hell, it was e
ncouraged. Except this hit Mason in a sensitive spot. Thirty-four wasn’t old by anyone’s standards—unless the person was an unmated werewolf alpha.

  He peeled his upper lip back in a fierce snarl as he glared at Anders. His blood burned hot, too hot. Fury burned in his gut and he’d never wanted anything more than to punch the mouthy little shit across the clearing.

  With a growl, Mason swung his arm wide and saw his fuckup in an instant. He’d let Anders get under his skin, dammit. The sentry recognized the opening and took his shot—right into Mason’s kidney.

  Mason spun away from Anders and pretended the blow hadn’t hurt, even though his back burned like a raging fire. “Lucky shot.”

  Anders grinned, blood staining his teeth pink. “Depends on who you ask.”

  Anders executed a roundhouse kick, probably hoping to capitalize on his last hit, but Mason was back in the game. He grabbed the man’s ankle and gave him a hard shove so that Anders landed on his ass, almost in the same spot as before.

  “Who you want to ask?” Mason tried to smile but couldn’t hide the falseness. He was far too angry for good-natured ribbing. His wolf strained against his mental leash, scraping and clawing at his human skin. It wanted to turn this spar into a true fight.

  In an instant, Anders was up, bouncing around Mason once more. What would it take to make this guy stay down? Didn’t he know he was fighting his alpha? He had no hope of winning, yet he kept returning for more. Part of Mason admired the sentry’s tenacity, but a bigger part of him wanted to rip out Anders’ throat and howl his dominance to the sky.

  Shaking the thought away, Mason pushed his beast back. Unfortunately, it didn’t want to remain behind the scenes while Mason had all the fun. It wanted to play, too. It wanted to taste blood.

  Anders’ blood.

  Mason lashed out, but Anders bobbed away. The other wolf ducked and weaved, always staying just out of reach. Until he managed to get behind Mason and landed a solid punch to the back of Mason’s head.

  That one strike had been too much for his wolf. A fine coating of dark fur pushed through Mason’s pores to dust his skin. He spun and threw his weight behind a hard uppercut, but only managed to graze the sentry’s ear. Fucker.

  “Dammit!” Mason hissed.

  With the clarity only his wolf had, Mason realized Anders was trying to wear him out. The kid knew he would never be able to match Mason’s brute strength, and the only way for him to stand a chance was to wear out his opponent. Smart wolf. Solid tactic. It still pissed Mason off something fierce.

  His canines dropped through his gums, and it took half his remaining strength to keep his wolf under control. The beast wanted to leap forward, take Anders by the neck, and shake him until he lay limp and bleeding.

  This was supposed to be a bit of fun, he reminded himself as much as his wolf.

  Only the fight felt all too real. As if the wolf shifter challenged him for control of the pack. The moment the thought formed, it refused to be banished, making his blood boil over.

  Mason tackled Anders, fury shoving him into action as he threw aside any pretense of play. They fell to the ground together in a tangle of muscled limps, and Mason reveled in the flash of fear in the sentry’s eyes. Mason’s wolf howled in triumph. It seemed Anders finally understood who was alpha, and who would remain alpha.

  With the wind knocked out of him, Anders didn’t put up much of a fight any longer. He didn’t struggle as Mason straddled him and rained down a storm of punches on the other wolf. Blow after blow, he released his pent-up fury on the bleeding man. Yet it wasn’t enough to slake his thirst for blood. His wolf howled to be released, to be freed to cause more damage—an idea that intrigued and excited Mason’s human half.

  Mason let the wolf come forward and just as he started his transformation, strong hands—many of them—hauled him off Anders and threw him to the ground. Before he clambered to his feet, the men in the clearing surrounded Anders—the sentry lying in a bloody heap. The sight of them standing there, protecting their pack mate, drew Mason back to his senses. A switch had flipped, bringing him out of the fetid darkness of bloodlust.

  “Shit,” he rasped, scrubbing a hand across his scruffy jaw.

  Kade and Gavin strode forward and forced Mason to turn in the opposite direction. They hauled him out of the clearing and away from the mess he’d created. No one spoke until they were out of earshot of the others. He glanced back for one last look at Anders, and regret wrapped around him with a strangle hold. At least the wolf was upright now, leaning against his pack mates.

  “He’ll be fine,” Kade gave Mason a shove. His words were probably meant to be soothing, but his younger brother’s tone held a surge of anger. “I need you to focus on something else. We just got a call. There’s a fire on the north ridge of our territory and it doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down. Time for you to put on your park ranger uniform and get your ass down there.”

  “We’ll go with you,” Gavin added quickly. “I’ll send Drew to tend to Anders. Maybe we can keep this quiet.”

  “Fat chance,” Kade said with a humorless laugh.

  Mason gripped a handful of his own hair and pulled hard—using that small sting to make him focus. “Don’t bother. Everyone knows what’s happening. No point in pretending otherwise.”

  They walked in silence for a moment before Kade spoke, his voice gritty with emotion. His brother’s emotional pain teased his nose. “You’re losing control.”

  Mason nodded. His stomach threatened to spill his breakfast on the forest floor, but he pushed it back. He shoved his regret back, too.

  “It’s coming on fast.” Mason’s wolf added a growl to his words. “Without a mate…”

  Kade picked up the thought. “Without a mate, you’ll turn feral. We’ll have to kill you so you don’t attack the pack. Then the National Ruling Circle will select a new alpha, beta and enforcer to take over Blackwood.”

  “In other words,” Gavin grumbled, “we’re fucked.”

  The agony of guilt at failing his brothers and pack drew a whimper from his wolf. It was the beast’s fault as much as his own. Of course, it wasn’t as if anyone could force a mating bond. He and his wolf had spent decades trying to find their fated mate, but they’d failed. And that failure would not only bring down him, but his family and pack as well.

  Gavin was right. Unless Mason found his mate—and fast—they were all fucked.

  Chapter Two

  Lucy wove her way down a busy sidewalk in downtown Ashtown, Georgia, darting out of the way of one particularly boisterous child.

  “This was a mistake,” she mumbled to herself.

  No one heard her. No one even noticed her. Still, she would have felt so much better if she’d donned a disguise. Maybe a set of those joke glasses with the giant schnoz and bushy mustache. Ooh, if she’d owned a red trench coat, she could have gone full-on Carmen Sandiego. Hell, she would have settled for a baseball cap and a pair of oversized sunglasses. Something, anything to feel less conspicuous.

  Not that a disguise would have made a bit of difference. After a decade away, she doubted if anyone in Ashtown remembered her. If they did, none of them would ask the questions that really filled their minds. Though Lucy had the answers already prepared.

  No, you haven’t seen me in a while. Watching your parents brutally killed has a way of making a person want to hit the road.

  Then, once the pleasantries of her parents’ gruesome deaths had been covered, they could move on to lighter fare. Such as, say, how Lucy’s life was crumbling around her.

  No, I didn’t know you owned a law firm and had three perfect brats. Me? Nope, no kids. No husband or boyfriend either. No job, no friends, no future. Yup, I’ve got it all figured out.

  In reality, Lucy had nothing. Other than the hard lesson she’d learned—once accused of business misdealing, a person was forever damned. Guilty or not. At least, in the corporate world. Any hopes of climbing the corporate ladder were futile and it was hard to
wash a resume of that kind of stain.

  For some idiotic reason, she’d thought coming home to Ashtown might bring her some comfort. Maybe even a little closure. Except her only memories of the small town centered around family camping trips to the nearby mountains. One trip in particular and one night she’d spent the last ten years trying to forget. For better or worse, she was back. Might as well check out how the town had changed.

  Main Street remained the same. Some of the stores were different, but the potholes in the road were just as large as she recalled. The city council probably didn’t want them too fixed or it might encourage speeding. It was just like a small town to leave potholes instead of investing in speed bumps.

  Across the street, a familiar red awning hung over the place her parents had taken her every week for ice cream. Now the storefront boasted artisanal vegan and gluten-free baked goods. The corner store she and her friends had stopped at for candy after school now displayed a wide variety of essential oils and vape pens in the window. Even the antique stores had fallen prey to the evils of the current trends. Instead of beautiful Victorian furniture, they mostly seemed to offer vintage record players, old box-style cameras, and weird tubs of mustache wax.

  Ashtown had turned into hipster heaven! No wonder all the young men with unusually long, perfectly groomed beards and the skinny, young women wearing mismatched shoes and horn-rimmed glasses were looking at her funny. With her full figure crammed into mom jeans and a boring white t-shirt, she must have looked like an alien to them.

  Just get the hell out of Dodge, her brain insisted. The temptation to high-tail it back to her car and head for her grandmother’s house two hours away was strong, but her need to continue her tour of her old stomping grounds was even stronger. Besides, she wasn’t about to be run out of her hometown by a bunch of fashion failures.