Learn how the story continues with
The Beasts Within
and how it ends with
My Beasts and Me
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D.S. Wrights was born and raised mostly in Germany.
She speaks three languages fluently: English, German, and Dutch.
Her name is a pen name, and she describes writing as her passion and calling. Two short stories were published during high school, one as a school project and one in a regional newsletter.
Later she worked at a publishing house where she earned insight into the work, process, and production of publishing books.
In the last few years, she has published several fan fiction books to which the feedback was overwhelmingly positive.
Her first novel was The Beast And Me, first of this series.
Visit: www.dswrights.com
Amazon: http://amzn.to/29FZfW2
Facebook: www.facebook.com/dswrights
www.facebook.com/thebeastandme
Tumblr: www.dswrights.tumblr.com &
www.thebeastandme.tumblr.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DSWrights
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/list/8433369
Howl
By D.S. Wrights and Lilith Dark
What was supposed to be an extended family camping trip turns horribly wrong.
All Liala wanted for her 21st birthday is to reconnect with her long dead mother at the place her parents’ met and they used to visit until her death.
Despite an old woman's warning the camp of her extended family and friends is eventually set up at a secluded little piece of paradise... and right in the middle of the local were-wolf pack's territory.
Howl is a horror/paranormal/erotica story and contains topics that are not suitable for minors or the fainthearted, such as gore, non-con, and borderline interaction.
Publisher's comment: D.S. Wrights returns to what had held us at the edge of our seat reading The Beast and Me and beyond.
Prologue
Panting... Muffled sounds of feet running, naked feet. It’s pitch-black. Just until my eyes get used to the pale moonlight, searching its way through the crowns of the trees.
Tall trees... And old... A forest. Big, dark, and cold. I can smell the moisture of the ground beneath me, the softness beneath my feet, the freshness of wood and pine needles.
Breathing leaves little clouds in the air as I run. My heart is beating in my ears. And then I know why my lungs are aching: Snarls, barks. Right behind me. I am followed, hunted. Wolves. Panic grips me by the throat and I try to go harder. My feet hurt and I’m sliding, tumbling. Looking down I see that they are naked. I’m not wearing shoes. My skin is clammy. I’m freezing. I have to run faster. Faster.
Snatching, breaking twigs resound behind me. They are coming closer. Are they? I don’t dare to look back, or I will fall. Still, there’s barking, growling behind me, further away and yet next to me.
Are they trying to surround me?
I can’t go faster. I’m already stumbling, risking a fall. Then they will get me for sure. A snarl. It’s too close. My hackles rise. I feel tears of fear in my eyes. Faster. Why can’t I go faster?
Twigs are scratching at me. Are my legs naked as well? It’s so cold. I feel the freezing air on my skin. My bare skin. Am I naked? I can’t look down. I have to run.
My lungs are aching even more. My throat is dry and disgusting spit gathers in my mouth. I swallow and it hurts.
A howl right next to me. It’s like a whip to my spine. I almost fall, but catch myself, sliding on moss, twisting my ankle. A whine escapes my mouth. Another snarl is the answer. Right behind me.
My heart beats against my chest, trying to break free. Tears on my cheeks. I just want to stop. Let them get me. Rip me into pieces, limb by limb. But I can’t. I have to run.
The further I go, the thicker the brush seems to get. Twigs are tearing at my skin. It hurts. It burns. And it slows me down. I fight the urge to look behind me, because I can’t hear them anymore. The cracking, breaking twigs drown out every other sound. Everything hurts, aches, but I have to go on. Run.
Suddenly the brush is gone and I almost slow down instead of speeding up. I tense and fight against the weariness. Run. Faster. Ignore the surrounding. Find life. Find people. Save yourself. I hear myself panting again. Still, it’s silent. Did they give up? Don’t turn around. Run! I stumble, but catch myself again. My feet are getting numb. A good thing, I guess. I stumble once more. Everything aches. Everything hurts. Yet I run.
A hit. Against my back. Throwing me forward. More weight. My torso falls over. My feet can’t follow. Pain in my spine, in my muscles, in my bones. I fall. Hard. Instinctively my hands snap forward, trying to catch my fall. I tear up my wrists and palms. Get up! Up!
Despite the dirt and burning pain I try to struggle up, but a heavy weight pulls me down, my legs give in. Then a snarl. Against my ear. I freeze. Realize. The wolf got me. And I feel his paws on my bare back, his claws in my skin, drawing blood.
My heart tumbles, my lungs ache, and I can’t move, don’t dare to move. My skin is moist and I notice that I’m naked. Really naked. Completely. Against my will, I shiver and the wolf snarls into my ear. Panic. Please, let it be quick.
I close my eyes, trying to prepare myself.
Wet. My eyes tear open. I feel the wolf licking my neck and I tense up, making him snarl again. Again, I freeze and he lies down. On me. He’s tall. Taller than normal? Do I even know? It doesn’t matter. He still pins me down with his weight. Fur covering my whole back and my butt. No. I close my eyes again. I can feel skin. No. Just kill me. Not this. The weight is suddenly shifting and I press my eyes shut. Suddenly my head gets torn back by my hair. I feel skin against mine, not fur, hard skin against my rear.
“Yield,” a rough deep voice snarls into my ear, lips against it.
I can’t believe it, gasping. My eyes try to catch a glimpse, but I can’t move enough to see him. The man. Not the wolf. He presses himself against me.
“Yield,” he repeats.
A snarl escapes my throat. Much too inhuman. Suddenly my body begins to struggle, to fight, even though I still feel paralyzed.
“No!” I hear myself growl.
I hear bones snapping. Unknown pain in my muscles, sinews, limbs. Tearing pain. I scream, arching, squirming, and rearing up. I can see how my hands clench, deform. This pain.
I still scream, and then suddenly I howl. I howl. Everything is bright and strangely green. I’m free. I howl again.
Panting. Muffled sounds of feet running. Paws running.
The moonlight brightens my path.
Tall trees. And old. A forest.
Big, dark, and mysterious.
Breathing leaves little clouds in the air and I run. I can smell the moisture of the ground beneath me, the softness beneath my feet, the freshness of wood and pine needles. My heart is beating in my ears. Wild and strong.
I am a wolf.
The BeAst Of Me (The Beast And Me Book 5) Page 12
