Darkness Unleashed

by Belinda Boring

  Michael’s hands clenched at his side as his body stiffened in anger. “You will pay for that, Mason O’Connor. When I kill you, that abomination behind you will be the next to die.”

  Even as it dawned on me that he was spitting out the same twisted rhetoric that Paxton had, the conviction that Michael had also made his decision to side with the Master hit me. “You sound a lot like the last fool who challenged me in the name of their master.”

  “I speak on behalf of Amber and her mother!”

  “Then I accept. Here and now. No need for waiting or to gather the others.” Without looking away from Michael, I asked those with me. “Do you all agree to stand as witnesses?” Their soft agreements echoed back. “After you, then.” I gestured, signaling it was time to take the fight outside.

  In what closely resembled the fight from earlier, those who remained gathered around in a loose circle. Slipping off my shoes and socks, my shirt was next, leaving my chest bare. Michael did the same and when he stood still in front of me, I nodded. “Human or wolf?”

  “Wolf. I want the pleasure of tearing you limb from limb with my teeth.”

  I didn’t bother trying to persuade him otherwise. A challenge fought in wolf form removed any chance for extending mercy and last minute chances. Once the battle began, wolves were harder to control and the only way mine would stop would be by extreme intervention from those watching, or by the killing of my opponent.

  “Then I grant you that concession. I never wanted your daughter to die. I never wanted anything but happiness for her. She was just never mine to claim. She belonged to another, yet she refused to accept that.”

  “She was yours and your cowardice ruined her.”

  “Then I wish you a speedy death,” I answered, disappointed that even now, Michael was blind to the truth.

  “Go to Hell, Mason O’Connor!” Michael growled, already starting to shift.

  “Not unless I send you there first.” Releasing my human form, the magic of my wolf took over, changing me into my sleek black furred body. Michael followed quickly after, and in a violent clash of power, the challenge began.

  Where Michael’s anger fueled his attack, he was still no match—his age and failure to see things clearly hindering his ability to counter each move I made. At this rate, the fight would be over as quickly as my jaws locked around his throat and shook. Somehow, he managed to break free from my hold, but there was no relenting. Pouncing again, my teeth snapped around his front leg, the crack of bones loud.

  His blood hit my tongue, but I didn’t let it distract me. Knowing he was outmatched, he charged into my side, hoping to knock me over and find an opportunity to do his own damage. He roared with frustration as I rolled with the momentum his strike had caused, waiting to lunge for my throat.

  I didn’t give him the chance. Howling a battle cry that filled the air, I scrambled to my paws before hitting him with such a force that Michael crumpled to the ground. Leaping forward, my teeth bared, I closed my mouth viciously around the side of his throat.

  My fangs sliced through his fur and flesh like they were made of butter. Releasing my jaw enough to take a bigger bite, I locked down hard; pulling back once I knew there was no way he could escape. With an anguished yelp of defeat, Michael’s wolf form shuddered as death came to claim him.

  He’d come in the fullness of someone who felt he was owed.

  With one final breath, Michael Bracken, Alpha of the Silver Canyon Pack, left knowing he’d been wrong.

  Striding away, I paced back and forth, my black fur coated in blood as I waited to see whether the challenge was truly over. When Michael failed to move, his body now lying still on the ground, I knew. It was my second fight today, and I’d successfully protected what was mine.

  “Mason!” Darcy exclaimed as I dropped to my knees, weariness overcoming me.

  It was hard not to visibly flinch from her touch against my sore skin. “I’m fine. Give me a second,” I answered.

  “We don’t have time,” Devlin interrupted, his voice filled with trepidation. As I glanced up at my Enforcer friend, it wasn’t the unsettled expression that caught my attention, but the flickering light dancing over the contours of his face. As the magic faded from my shift, I noticed a new scent permeating the air.

  Fire.

  Something was burning.

  Dragging myself up and staggering around, horror crashed down around me at the sight of the house on fire, flames hungrily consuming the place I called home. Before I could even react, glass shattered inside, the sound exploding in the night.

  “Get everyone out!” I yelled, the orders coming fast and furious as I feared for those inside the burning building. “Darcy, keep safe! Devlin, make sure no one’s trapped inside! Vlad, get Wade and tell him we’re going to need help before it spreads into the trees!”

  With my mind scrambling to keep up with each thought, I whipped around to find my second-in-command standing there, a look of satisfaction in his eyes that stopped me cold. He hadn’t moved from where I last saw him. He’d made no effort to go save the people we both loved.

  “We need to make sure the Pack is safe!” I yelled, my lungs filling with smoke as I started coughing.

  Before I had a chance to catch my breath, I heard the five words I never expected to hear coming from my best friend and brother.

  “I challenge you as Alpha.”

  “No,” I whispered, unsure whether I’d heard him correctly. “Daniel?”

  There was no warmth in his expression as he coldly grinned. “You can call me by my true name.” Stepping toward me, his hands curled into fists, his body tensing as he readied himself to attack.

  “And that would be?” I fired back, my wolf racing to the surface as everything around me hushed in anticipation.

  “The name you will learn to fear and obey.”

  It couldn’t be.

  “Hello, Mason. I am the Master.”

  Coming November 2014

  LAST WOLF STANDING

  #7 in the Mystic Wolves series.

  About The Author

  A homesick Aussie living amongst the cactus and mountains of Arizona, Belinda Boring is a self-proclaimed addict of romance and all things swoon worthy.

  With all that excitement, it wasn't long before she began writing, pouring her imagination and creativity into the stories she dreams. Whether urban fantasy, paranormal romance or romance in general, Belinda strives to share great plots with heart and characters that you can't help but connect with. Of course, she wouldn't be Belinda without adding heroes she hopes will curl your toes.

  Surrounded by a supportive cast of family, friends and the man she gives her heart and soul to, Belinda is living the good life. Happy reading!

  You can find Belinda Boring:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/Belinda-Boring-Author/200626723318915

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/BelindaBoring

  Official Website: http://belindaboringbooks.blogspot.com

  Other books by Belinda Boring

  The Mystic Wolves series

  The Mystic Wolves (#1)

  Forget Me Not (#2)

  Testing Fate (#3)

  Forever Changed (#4)

  Savage Possession (#5)

  A Very Mystic Christmas (Novella length collection of memories)

  Other titles

  Broken Promises (#1, Brianna Lane series)

  Enchanted Hearts

  Loving Liberty

  Coming soon

  Fall For Me (#1, Story of Us series: co-authored with Lacey Weatherford)

  Last Wolf Standing (#7, The Mystic Wolves series)

  Broken Trust (#2, Brianna Lane series)

  Bittersweet Melody (A Damaged Souls novel)

  Sneak Peek at Loving Liberty

  Chapter One

  I looked with longing, my sole focus on the people sitting at the neighboring table.

  There was nothing special about them, just a small group of young adults, like me; but they r
epresented a world I desperately wanted to be part of. We were all here, with our families, to raise money for the latest popular charity. Our similarly styled clothes screamed “upper class”, suggesting we shared things in common. Most ran in the same social circle, but that wasn’t what I envied about them.

  They looked as though they were happy, enjoying the kind of life where they were free to come and go as they chose. Laughing openly, there wasn’t any fear of reprisal or condemnation when their loud behavior drew attention. The group was having an amazing time, and I couldn’t help feeling the pangs of jealousy.

  It’s what I wanted more than anything in the world—the ability to act without fear of disappointing my parents. The chance to let simply loose and be myself with no restrictions, stern warnings, or lectures about how proper young women should act in public.

  I was twenty-one years old and the perfect model of who my parents believed I should be. From my well-maintained blonde hair, always immaculate without a misplaced strand, to the expensive clothes, making me feel like a Stepford wife-in-training, I had been groomed, from an early age, for this life of wealth and privilege.

  And I hated it.

  What I wanted to do was stand on top of the table I was sitting at, throw my head back and scream, “My name is Liberty Montgomery and I want more!” I would ignore the horrified stares and hushed whispers, not caring about the backhanded snickers or judgmental comments. I wanted to break free of the cage I felt trapped in. Even knowing it would disappoint my parents didn’t bother me.

  But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? There were only so many times I could fool myself before the truth surfaced. I was a people pleaser—born and bred. Every time I saw my mother’s lips purse in censure, I cringed.

  My imagination ran wild with all the criticisms that would be surging through her mind, if I did, though. There was no doubt she would be stockpiling them until we were within the safety of our home, where privacy would afford her the luxury to speak her mind. She would never openly berate me in public; it wasn’t something refined families did. She would simply wait and then together, with my father, tag-team me. I was lucky to usually emerge from those types of discussions with my spirit unscathed.

  My father was the type of man you would rather die than upset. He demanded excellence from everyone, and that didn’t exclude his daughter. If anything, he expected more of me; and his brand of perfection was exhausting to maintain. I did it because I love him, working hard to avoid hearing him say my name as though it pained him. My entire life revolved around trying to earn his respect and affection.

  Staring over at the loud crowd, I knew if I joined them, I would only gain his displeasure.

  I was trapped.

  I let out a heavy sigh, reining in my thoughts. It didn’t help to wish for things I couldn’t have. My regimented upbringing, the restrictions I sometimes railed against, was just as much my fault as my parents’. I didn’t have to be the dutiful daughter. I could rebel at any time, declare the need to be my own person and tell them, “no”.

  I didn’t, though.

  As each year passed, I kept willing myself to speak up, but old habits die-hard.

  One day, I whispered, taking a small sip of sparkling water. It was difficult not to flinch as I swallowed the disgusting beverage. My mother was adamant that all young ladies should drink it. I eyed the drinks at the other table, knowing they’d been bought at the bar. Occasionally, I was permitted a small flute of champagne, but never outside our home and never interesting cocktails like they’d ordered. Looking at my half emptied glass in disgust, I placed it down beside the name cardholder.

  Only two more hours of scrutiny and you can go home. I could fake it as long as I needed. It was something I’d perfected over the years.

  “Can I get you anything? Another drink, maybe?” A deep voice interrupted my musings, dragging my gaze upward. I tried not to gasp out loud as I stopped at the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. The server caught me by surprise and my fingers instinctively reached up to fidget with my string of pearls.

  If I thought his eyes were striking, they only complimented the rest of him. The name badge on his shirt said Oliver and I couldn’t stop staring at how perfect his mouth was—the way it raised a little higher to the right side. With dimples on each side of his cheeks, he was, by far, the most handsome guy in the room.

  He didn’t say another word, tilting his head slightly, his smile growing wider by the second. That’s when I realized he was waiting for my answer. I’d been too busy noticing his light brown hair was spiked up at the ends and how broad his shoulders were. He wasn’t the first good-looking guy I’d ever seen, but his unwavering focus did something funny to my stomach. Oliver had rendered me completely speechless and I felt like an idiot.

  He is the only one that makes you forget you manners. Answer him before he walks away!

  “Sorry.” I could feel my face heat and turn about a hundred shades of red. “I’m good for right now,” I continued, chewing on my bottom lip. “Thanks, though.”

  “Are you sure? I can get you something other than what you’re already drinking.” He gestured to the glass. His offer was incredibly tempting.

  “I am. Sparkling water suits me just fine.” To prove my point, I took a mouthful. It wasn’t my customary sip and it took everything I had not to spit it out.

  “Do you usually gag when you drink water?” He was teasing me, flashing another lopsided grin. My stomach did flip flops, my heart racing a little, as well.

  “I don’t know what you . . .” I paused as he cocked his eyebrow. Glancing around to see if my family was close, I didn’t bother hiding my shudder. “Who am I kidding? This stuff is nasty.” I pushed it away.

  “Well, I have this strict policy that I never let pretty girls drink things that make them cringe. So please, for me, is there anything else I can get you? Maybe something from the bar?”

  Wishing I had the courage to say “yes”, I shook my head, instead. The different mixed drinks were definitely enticing; but without knowing their names, I didn’t want to appear stupid. “No, it’s okay. I’ll stick with this.”

  Oliver gave me a curious look, opening his mouth slightly, like he wanted to push the issue but changed his mind. There was no way I wanted this gorgeous guy to discover he was talking with a good girl who did everything she was told. Even though the chances were I’d never see him again, the idea of him out there in the world knowing how sheltered I was, bothered me.

  It bothered me a lot.

  “Even though it breaks my heart, I’ll concede, just this once.” He placed his hand over his heart, giving me a crushed expression. “You enjoy your evening, Miss?”

  It took me a second to realize he was asking for my name. I flushed again, knowing I’d been caught staring at his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss them.

  “Liberty. My name’s Liberty Montgomery.”

  “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Liberty.” He bowed slightly, his hands tucked behind his back. “Mine’s Oliver Nichols. If you need me for anything, just let me know.” The flirtatious wink he gave turned my insides upside down.

  “Anything?” The second the word was out, I wanted to slap my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what it was about this guy, but he had me forgetting all of my mother’s etiquette training. I was actually flirting, and it felt good.

  Oliver laughed and the sound created another whirlwind in my body. That’s when I knew he was dangerous. “Especially if I can make you smile like that.” I instantly looked down to my lap, unsure of how to respond.

  There was no need to worry as just at that moment, my older sister, Erica, approached the table, sitting down in the empty seat beside me. She glared at Oliver, obviously annoyed he was standing there, and ordered a drink before waving her hand to dismiss him. He graciously overlooked her rudeness, smiling at me one more time before leaving.

  “Please tell me you weren’t flirting with him, Liberty,” she dem
anded, her question laced heavily with disgust. When I didn’t answer with the correct response of denial, she shook her head. “Can’t I leave you alone for more than a few minutes?”

  “I don’t need a babysitter, Erica. And what if I was?” I felt the battle coming on. It always felt like we were in competition with each other, trying to see who pleased our parents more. It wasn’t how I wanted my relationship with her, but nothing I did ever softened her frosty attitude toward me. She saw me as a threat, one she did everything in her power to eliminate.

  “He’s hired help. He’s so beneath you. What would Mom say if she knew? Hmmm, maybe I’ll just let her know.” Erica wore an all-familiar cruel smile. I closed my eyes, knowing that without meaning to, my talking with Oliver would be conversation fodder for at least the next few days. My sister was relentless once she uncovered something.

  “If only I knew what?” As if mentioning her name was a summons, my mother appeared. She was the picture of elegance—her appearance completely molded and designed to display her social status. She was considered one of the top-tier elite within our social circle and it showed. She looked as though she’d just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine with her tailored green evening dress, strapped heels, and flawless make-up. Even her manicured nails were impeccable. Her dream was to have her daughters follow in her footsteps and Erica was definitely doing it; but each time I saw her primped this way, I felt exhausted. I saw how much effort it took to present such a dignified front to the public, all while wearing a smile.