by Abby Gordon
Table of Contents
Unleashed
Publication Page
Dedication
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About the Author
Also Available
Also Available
Thank You
Unleashed
by
Abby Gordon
Beloved of the Beast
Book One
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Unleashed
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Abby Gordon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2016
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0927-9
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To those who dream and still believe in fairy tales.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Abby Gordon
AND HER BOOKS
UNLEASHED
“I loved this script. I had a hard time putting it down. I cannot wait for the next one in this series to come out.”
~Pre-Review
“If you like an enjoyable erotic romance, get your hands on To Seduce and Satisfy and enjoy the ride. There is a lot of heart within the story.”
~Manic Readers
MASTER’S CHOICE
“The chemistry between JW and Ally is scorching hot. The sex scenes were searing. Ally and JW connected in a way neither could with anyone else.”
~Night Owl Review
Prologue
With sheer will disciplined honed through his life, the man tightened control over the beast inside him. He would not let it out the way it wanted—to prowl the countryside, the villages beholden to his family, and to satiate the sexual hunger.
He made his eyes focus on the numbers before him, but the beast growled.
Why do you fight me? Why do you fight the need in you?
I am not a beast. I am a baron of the realm. A knight and a gentleman.
You deny who you are to protect yourself from those who would kill you if they knew that there was truth to the fairy tales.
I have served the realm well.
Oh, very well, the beast agreed. So why not indulge yourself?
I will not.
You only make things…
The beast paused. The man lifted his head. Something compelled him to his feet and had him moving to the double doors at the stone promenade that ran the length of the back of the manor. He opened one, slipping outside. Animal instincts forced him to inhale and he closed his eyes.
A storm approaches.
A maid approaches. Your destiny.
I thought that once before. You thought that once before. And where did that get us? We nearly destroyed everything, everyone in the family.
The beast growled. The man grunted. That humiliation still stung them both.
Witches were more cunning than we suspected. Still, it kept you alive.
Returning inside, the man shuddered, letting his gaze go to the sword kept over the mantle. A sword forged with one purpose—to end the lives of those who could not control the beast within.
The storm will start tomorrow. Can we at least run with the pack tonight?
The man couldn’t ignore the restlessness inside him anymore. A sense of…something stirred but he wouldn’t trust destiny or fate. A night run. Yes, that would do it.
We’re not going near the villages, he told the beast.
But you want to. You want to sink into warm, willing flesh. Your cock is aching for a dripping pussy. Your tongue licking soft tits with tight nipples.
With a growl, the man prowled the study, reluctant to accept it. He had no choice. The beast was right. He’d denied his sexual appetites for so long, too long, that control was getting harder.
In the distance, a wolf’s howl pierced the silence. Shaking his head, he shrugged out of his coat and stepped back outside. Before the coat had hit the swept flagstones, the beast within became flesh—a large wolf unleashed.
He tilted his muzzle to the sky and returned the call before bounding down the steps to the pack racing to meet him.
Chapter One
“Where are we?” whined the petulant voice. “Why aren’t we there yet?”
In the rear-facing right corner, Amanda kept her eyes closed as her stepmother’s voice filled the carriage. Huddled under her woolen cloak, she hoped that pretending sleep would keep Bettina from drawing her into the conversation.
“Why are we stopping? Surely we can’t be home yet?”
Across from her father and stepmother, she wondered if her father regretted agreeing to the demands of his wife of eighteen months in traveling to the capital in late summer and then returning home at the beginning of winter. She bit her bottom lip, amazed, not for the first time, at how the woman could have fooled the entire town.
Just two years older than Amanda’s own eighteen, Bettina had always carried herself as a quiet, modest woman, well-liked compared to her haughty mother, Frau Katarina Grunden. Fair of face with brilliant dark blue eyes, thick honey-blonde hair and a voluptuous figure made fashionable by the women at court, Bettina had been eager to ask Heinrich’s opinion and go along with his decisions. With his ring on her finger, though, Bettina had become a very different woman, pushing herself as Frau von Steinser, the wife of the Guild Master for lawyers. She had become demanding, a spend-thrift with his hard-earned money, and incredibly lazy.
“It’s barely noon,” a male voice added his discontent. Next to Amanda on the seat, her twenty-two year old half-brother Aaron had no qualms adding his complaints.
Amanda winced in response. She did not like the change in Aaron since his departure for university three years prior. Aaron was now very aware of social ranking, and dressed as he thought the son of a prosperous lawyer and Guild Master should. His dark brown hair waved back from his forehead and his neck was swallowed up by an elaborately tied cravat. Instead of discussing sober topics, Aaron now preferred to gossip about others and discuss the latest scandals in minute detail.
She wished she could forget the type of people he now considered “friends.” Her shiver at the thought wasn’t entirely due to the cold. The memory of her last trip to the art gallery just three days prior burned in her mind. She had been accosted by three of Aaron’s friends and refused to go to dinner with them. Aaron had been furious with her, yelling until their father had come into their suite. Hearing only Aaron’s side, her father had actually told Amanda that she should have been more accommodating to the “gentlemen.”
Remembering that encounter, she closed her eyes tightly.
“Is Manson coddling the horses again?” Aaron sneered. “He has no knowledge of horseflesh, Father. Really, you should fire him without any references.”
<
br /> Stunned at such a remark about a man who had taught both of them to ride and drive, Amanda looked at her older brother. Aaron glanced at her, his eyes narrowing as if daring her to say something. Lifting one eyebrow slightly, she turned her head, finding her father’s gaze going from his son to her as he frowned.
Avoiding her father’s quelling expression, Amanda closed her eyes and compared herself to Aaron. With hair slightly lighter than her brother’s and golden-brown eyes instead of Aaron’s mahogany ones, she occasionally joked that the two were like the peacock and peahen, with the peacock’s more vibrant colors while the peahen stayed in the background.
And the contrasts between the siblings were not just physical. As with their different mothers, their personalities were also dissimilar. Of all the things she missed about her mother, her secretive teachings on what Amanda could do with her mind came first. Amanda knew that only her mother’s dowry had kept her father from divorcing her after their wedding night. And then he had caught Amanda practicing calling the birds in the garden a few months after her mother’s death and, for the first time in her life, he’d taken a strap to her.
He had refused to believe or acknowledge the gift his wife and daughter had in any way for nearly nineteen years. Amanda’s opened her golden eyes to meet his. She knew the serenity he saw there would unnerve him. Her mother had often looked at him like that. Just before she told him something that no one else could possibly know was going on. Amanda wished desperately that she could talk to him about the instinct growing inside her. Something was going to happen soon.
“Well, there must be a reason for the stop,” he spoke hesitantly. “I’m sure…”
The carriage door opened and the footman appeared, the wind whipping through the interior. Bettina screeched about the cold.
“Manson says we need to rest the horses, sir,” the footman shouted over the wind. “There’s an inn here where you can get a meal and warm up a bit.”
Heinrich nodded, before turning to his wife.
“Bettina, why don’t we get something hot to eat?” he suggested. “That might make all of us feel better, hmm?”
Heinrich got out and helped his wife down, escorting her to the inn. Aaron vaulted out behind them and followed quickly. Left on her own, Amanda blinked back bitter tears. The footman glanced at the three with scorn, then turned to her.
“Give you a hand, Miss Amanda?”
“Thank you, Jenkins,” she whispered, smiling softly.
She stepped down and he closed the door.
“Let me get you to the door, miss,” he offered. “This wind’s a bit fierce.”
She nodded as the wind knocked her back against the carriage.
“Do you think it will snow?”
“The innkeeper thinks it will start soon,” Jenkins told her as she gripped his forearm.
As she moved away, the driver hurried the carriage around the back of the inn. Arriving safely at the door, Amanda put her fingers on the handle.
“Thank you, Jenkins. Please make sure you and Manson get something to eat.”
“We will, miss,” he smiled, tugging his cap in respect.
Amanda entered the inn and immediately heard Bettina screeching. With a sigh, she closed the door and moved in the direction of the sound. She remembered her mother’s lessons and focused on calm and serenity. As she passed through the main dining room, she was aware of the silence that followed in her wake. Crying babies fell asleep against their mothers’ breasts, bickering children fell silent, and an argument on when the storm would hit stopped.
Amanda reached her family and touched the innkeeper’s wife on the arm. Bettina continued with her demands. With a huff of irritation, the matronly woman turned to look at her.
“I’m sorry about my stepmother,” Amanda whispered. “The ride in the carriage has been quite difficult today. As soon as you have the chance, would you bring us four bowls of the stew that smells so wonderful? And some bread and cheese?”
Through narrowed eyes, her father studied her. He knew what she was doing, but he said nothing.
“Of course, dearie,” the woman smiled, patting Amanda’s shoulder. “You just sit here by the fire and get warm.”
“No,” cried Bettina. “I’m freezing and she will take all the heat!”
Amanda moved to sit opposite her stepmother, the farthest spot from the fire. She shivered, but preferred the cold to what she knew would ensue if she mentioned that she couldn’t feel her toes.
Their food quickly arrived and Amanda focused on the meal, ignoring the conversation between Bettina and Aaron. As they finished eating, a man Heinrich’s age, wearing a blacksmith’s leather apron, came over to their table.
“Are you intending to continue your journey?”
“Of course,” Bettina replied shortly. “We have no intention of staying here.”
The man shook his head and pursed his lips. “Snow’s coming. It’ll start in an hour. You won’t get far, as your way will be uphill.”
“Our horses are quite strong,” Heinrich told him, tearing a piece of bread off and dunking it in his stew.
“I’ve just seen to your horses,” the blacksmith commented. “One will be lame about the time the snow begins. You won’t get much farther than the Beast’s Lair.”
“Beast’s Lair?” scoffed Aaron, picking up his mug of ale. “What kind of peasant’s gossip is that?”
Amanda felt a cold shiver run up and down her back. Something tickled in her mind. She didn’t understand it and didn’t know whether she was more afraid or thrilled by it.
“I tell no tales,” the man returned, giving Aaron a measuring look. “Our lord is Baron Wulfgar Socton, and he is very much a real man. His wife died a few years ago while he was fighting for the king during the southern lords’ rebellion. Rumors have it that he had her killed because she’d bewitched him. Others say wolves killed her at his order. That family has a way with beasts. Legend says they were cursed 200 years ago.” The man’s broad shoulders shrugged as if he didn’t believe such talk. “If you get caught out in the storm, I don’t know if he’ll give you refuge. He doesn’t hold with people who are so foolish.”
“Nonsense,” Bettina exclaimed. “My husband told you our horses are strong. I want to get home immediately. Heinrich, let’s leave. This place is full of ignorant peasants who are trying to frighten us into staying so they can take more of our money.”
She rose with a dramatic gesture, knocking her bowl to the floor. Bits of stew splattered onto her skirt.
“Amanda,” she screeched. “Look at this. My best traveling skirt. It’s absolutely ruined.”
Hurrying around her brother’s seat and the blacksmith, Amanda crouched down. For a moment, she pretended to study the stains. In reality, she relished the warmth of the fire. Finally, she looked up.
“I can get them out,” she announced.
“That’s a good girl,” Heinrich beamed.
With an unladylike snort, his wife swept toward the door, knocking a rising Amanda against the blacksmith. Concerned, he caught her arms before she could fall.
“All right, miss?” he asked worriedly.
Like everyone else in the inn, he had obviously noticed how her family had treated her. He had seen how Bettina, having finished her stew, had demanded what was in Amanda’s bowl. He shot an angry glance at her father, but the man was prodding his son to his feet.
“I’m all right,” she replied. “Thank you. Is the snow supposed to be very bad, sir?”
“Now, Amanda,” Aaron began with a frown, finally standing. “Don’t encourage them.”
The blacksmith scowled at her brother before gentling his expression toward the young woman.
“It’s an early blizzard, miss. Those are always bad. They can last three days, making travel nearly impossible for another three or four.”
“See?” Aaron told her. “Like Bettina said, they’re simply trying to frighten us into staying.”
“Wouldn’t it be b
etter to stay the night just in case, Father?” she suggested, turning to her father. “If the storm isn’t that bad, then we could leave early in the morning. The horses would be fresh and we would make up the distance.”
For a brief moment, he appeared to consider his daughter’s words of common sense. In the hall, though, Bettina shouted for them to hurry up as she wanted to get home. Heinrich stiffened and sent his offspring a hard look.
“Move along. Your mother’s waiting.”
He and Aaron left the table.
“Stepmother,” muttered Amanda, then flushed when the blacksmith grinned at her. “Sorry,” she murmured. “That was very rude of me.”
She hurried after her father and brother, but couldn’t resist expanding her mind to hear what they said after their departure. The blacksmith watched her, scowling. The innkeeper joined him.
“They wouldn’t listen?”
“No. The husband is ruled by his wife. His wife is spoiled. The son is lazy. The daughter has sense but is gentle.”
“And if they have to seek shelter at the Beast’s Lair?”
“Like steel, a woman strengthens for the challenge or breaks in the fire,” the blacksmith replied. The two men exchanged worried, knowing glances. “God help her.”
****
Back in the carriage, Amanda pulled her legs up under her, tucking her petticoat and skirt close, and huddled back in her cloak. Her hood nearly covered her head as she curled up in the corner. In the opposite corner of the carriage, Bettina had taken all the blankets yet continued to complain about the cold. Aaron joined the spoiled woman, hoping to garner some approval from her, and a share of the blankets.
Opposite Amanda, Heinrich gazed out the window, silent and defeated.
The words of the blacksmith echoed in her mind. What challenges would she face in the future? Would she strengthen? Or would she break? A shiver went through her as images flashed in her mind—Aaron lying in snow, a piano, a large four-poster bed of dark wood, and then a man with dark hair who as he turned to face her became a wolf. Squeezing her eyes closed, she pressed her cheek against the rough wool of her hood and prayed that she would have strength.
