by Tera Shanley
Cover Copy
He’ll risk it all to bring her home.
Morgan Carter witnessed her sister’s murder, has been turned into a werewolf and is now raising her young niece. Then her fiance, Greyson Crawford, proves he wants to be with her for the wrong reasons, and she knows her life couldn’t be any stranger. Devastated, she retreats to her cozy house in the city with her sister’s little girl, Lana. There, they’ll have normalcy, and maybe eventually, even happiness.
But Morgan’s the only living silver wolf. Her uniqueness—the ability to produce werewolf offspring—means, without Grey’s protection, she’s unknowingly put herself and Lana in deadly danger. Other werewolves want to claim her for their pack, and she’s the easiest, most tempting prey ever.
When they strike, Grey has to find her and rescue her before it’s too late. Not so simple a task; he has only the uncontrollable beast inside him, Wolf, and an unlikely pack of allies he’s forced to rely on. Can he get to her in time? And if he does, can he convince her he’s there for the right reasons, saving them both?
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Books by Tera Shanley
Silver Wolf Clan
Silver Wolf Chan, Book One
Black Wolf’s Revenge, Book Two
A Unwilling husband
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Black Wolf’s Revenge
Silver Wolf Clan, Book Two
Tera Shanley
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 by Tera Shanley
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First Electronic Edition: February 2015
eISBN-13: 978-1-61650-543-1
eISBN-10: 1-61650-543-5
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
To you readers, who have learned true love isn’t always easy love, but it’s always worth it in the end.
Chapter 1
Morgan Carter’s dark hair fell forward and she couldn’t quite seem to tear her gaze away from the Edwardian cut solitaire Greyson Crawford slid onto her finger. His finger itched to move the long tress out of the way so he could see her smile. She moved her left hand slightly from side to side, and the artificial illumination of the chandelier above them pierced the stone and threw tiny rays of colored light.
She had been moving closer to him by inches since the moment she’d said yes to his proposal. Did she even realize she was doing it, or was the animal inside of her running the show? She lifted light purple eyes to his face and he saw the answer there. Her wolf was so near the surface, the faint smell of animal wafted from her soft skin.
She’s ours, Wolf growled triumphantly inside of him.
He gripped the chair and stilled himself. All he wanted to do was kiss her until her knees gave out, but he needed to be a patient hunter. Wolf, the black-hearted animal that dwelled inside of him, scared Morgan sometimes. He scared everyone, but her wolf was especially new and volatile.
Wolf was right though. She was his, and only his now. The chair creaked as he leaned slightly forward and rested his forehead on hers with a sigh. If he could bottle this emotion, he would. How could he ever be happier than he was in this moment?
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered in wide-eyed bewilderment, “but we can’t afford this.”
Between the death of Morgan’s sister, the werewolf attack that had created him, the attempts on Morgan’s life and her captivity, there hadn’t been much time to discuss the trust fund his mother set up for him before she died. “Don’t worry, little wolf. I can afford it. We can afford it.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
She frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Rachel, the Dallas pack alpha’s mate, launched herself out of her seat at the dining room table and grabbed Morgan’s hand to examine the ring.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispered. “It’s stunning.”
In a move as surprising as it was quicksilver, Rachel hugged him. He clenched his teeth and swallowed a growl. Even if he respected Rachel immensely, Wolf didn’t play well with others.
“I’m so happy for you,” she said, wiping a lone tear that trickled down her cheek.
The Dallas pack alpha, Dean, stood and clapped him on the back. “Jason,” he ordered. “Go get the good whiskey. We’re making a toast.”
Rachel’s mock frown said she was secretly amused. “Honey, you make a toast with champagne.”
“Not a chance,” the old wolf said through a grin. “You have your own pack now, Crawford, how does it feel?”
His own pack. The words settled over him like a warm blanket. Wolf howled his satisfaction. Morgan and her niece and ward, Lana, would soon be his to protect. “It couldn’t feel any better than this,” he said shaking his head in wonderment. The last few minutes had changed his life from a slow and grueling hell to something he could have hope in.
Jason, a short and muscular wolf who ranked in the middle of Dean’s pack, neatly poured shot glasses of whiskey and passed them around to everyone but the much-too-young Marissa and Lana.
Dean stood at the helm of the table and held his tiny glass of amber liquid in the air. “To a new beginning for two deserving wolves. Grey, you’re lucky she said yes, you scary bastard.”
Morgan hadn’t looked away from him since he’d asked her to marry him, but with the toast, she dragged her gaze back to their friends and lifted her glass.
The room stood as still as a painting.
The pack had frozen and stared at her face as if she’d sprouted a second nose. Dean glanced around disapprovingly as Brent’s roll dropped out of his mouth.
“What?” she asked, looking from shocked face to shocked face.
A low, feral warning rumbled from Grey’s chest.
“Your eyes,” Brent said, clearing his throat and then continuing. “They are definitely purple.”
She lifted a slow hand to her cheek, her dark eyebrows drawing down. The sound of her heartbeat picked up, tripping to a frantic rhythm. “What do you mean?” She stood so fast the chair behind her screeched loudly against the wooden floor. The hollow sound of her footsteps echoed down the hall as she ran for the bathroom.
“Son of a mother effin bagpipe. Smurf. Ship!” She replaced curse words around Lana with less toxic ones, and Grey stilled the twitch at the corner of his mouth. There was nothing funny about what Morgan was realizing at this moment.
Everyone sat quietly as she let off a small string of non-expletives from the other room. Grey half stood to check on her, but she returned, so he sat back down on the edge of his seat.
“Okay, so I have purple eyes. I’ve
seen pretty strange colors in your eyes too. It’s part of what happens, right?” The last word went an octave higher, the sound bordering on hysteria.
No one spoke.
“It’s okay. I have purple eyes and dark hair and I look like I belong in an anime cartoon. What are you saying? What? It’s not normal to have purple eyes if you are a werewolf? Because being a werewolf is so normal. So I’m a freak? I’m a freak among werewolves,” she chattered.
Grey squeezed her leg, the one Alexis hadn’t ripped into when she’d turned her, and Morgan stopped talking. “You are beautiful, Morgan,” he whispered. God, she was so beautiful it hurt not to look at her.
“This is awesome,” Jason spoke up with growing enthusiasm. “She has purple eyes. She has purple freaking eyes.” He directed his excitement at Dean while pointing to Morgan with a fork. “Okay, I know it might be rude, but I have to ask. I just have to. And don’t look at me like that, Brent. Don’t even act like you don’t want to know too. What color are you? I mean, when you are a wolf, what color is your fur?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes took on a faraway look and she pursed her lips. “White. At least my legs are. I didn’t look in a mirror or anything.”
Jason looked at Grey with a dopey smile. “All right, her legs are white. What color is she?”
Grey sighed and looked to Dean, who shrugged like they were in it now, better dig their way out. “White. She is white like snow.”
The burly enforcer cocked his head and frowned. “Yeah, her legs are white, but what color is the rest of her?”
Grey sighed and cleared his throat. “White.”
Weighty silence filled Dean’s dining room as the impossible news settled onto the pack.
“Holy shit,” Logan said. “We have a silver wolf.” He raised his voice to be heard over the building volume of the others. “There is a silver wolf in our pack.”
“Language,” Dean warned, tossing a glance to Lana, who was eating a pile of mashed potatoes like she couldn’t care less if her guardian’s eyes were purple, square, or shooting glitter bullets. “She isn’t in our pack, Logan. She’ll be in Grey’s pack when the time comes, but our packs will remain close because she will need extra protection. Everyone, zip it!” Dean raised his voice and silence descended on the room. “I know this is exciting, but we have to keep it to ourselves. No one can know what she is. That’s an order. No one is allowed to talk about Morgan or Lana outside of this pack. Ever. Understood?”
“Uh,” Morgan said quietly, “would someone mind telling me what is going on?”
Rachel set her fork onto her plate with a tiny clink. “Come on out to the front porch. I think it would be best if this comes from me.”
She stared at Grey quizzically, but all he could do was kiss her lightly on the forehead and follow the two women to the front door. He didn’t envy Rachel for the job she was about to do. Brave wolf.
When they were out on the front porch, Rachel and Morgan sat on the swing while Grey pulled his jacket on and sat on the porch steps with his back to them. Maybe his subdued posture would make them comfortable enough to talk while he was so near. He tried to stifle the raw dominance that filled him, but Wolf only laughed. Grey didn’t control his beast. Not even close.
“What color are you?” Morgan asked as Rachel pulled a wool blanket from the back of the swing and tucked it over their laps.
“Mostly, I’m gray with lighter tips, legs, and mouth. I have darker gray areas around my ears and in different places in my coat. I look like a typical gray wolf. Nothing special, though Dean would disagree,” she said with a smile in her voice. “Marissa is beautiful. She is cream colored on her lower half, but light brown on her head, and it looks like she has a light brown saddle on her back. She is light colored for a wolf, which is unusual, but still in the realm of normal colors.”
The metal of the swing’s chains ground together as the breeze pushed them gently forward. “And your eyes?” Morgan asked. “What color are they?”
Carefully, Grey turned, unable to keep his gaze away from Morgan any longer.
Rachel blinked and opened light gray eyes. She blinked again and they were back to her normal soft brown color.
“How did you do that? How did you control it? I tried to make mine go away while I was in the bathroom and couldn’t do it.”
“It is a trick you learn over time. New wolves always have trouble with emotional outbursts, and eye color is a big indicator of mood when you are newly turned. When you have more control, you will be able to let your wolf out when you need her, and it will be enough. Grey is getting better about his eyes changing.”
He snorted. She was sweet, but who was she kidding? Every time he looked in a mirror, Wolf’s eyes stared back at him--golden and unnatural. If anything, he was getting worse.
“Well, you are. Sometimes I even see blue in your eyes,” Rachel said reasonably. “Grey is different. His wolf is dominant, even over his human, and it gives him a unique set of obstacles to overcome. You will hopefully have an easier time than he does.”
The light shuffle of fabric sounded as Morgan pulled the blanket more securely over her legs. “How can you tell I will? What is the difference between us?”
“Well, for one, his eyes still shift constantly, back and forth, back and forth. It’s hard to get used to at first. The pack has made a game out of timing how long his eyes stay blue. He is up to a minute, but the second best is only twenty-five seconds. Yours are staying blue until you get worked up. Grey isn’t there yet, and who knows if he ever will be. We don’t know who his maker was either. He told us a little about him. The wolf who attacked Grey must have been rogue, definitely a man-eater. Grey described the size of him to us. It is normal for a werewolf to be larger than regular wolves, but not that much larger. His maker was a Beast, and Grey’s Wolf is also a Beast. They’re shifters so powerful and dominant, they could be a danger to everyone if they don’t learn to control their animal sides. The wolf who attacked your sister lost control. Maybe he was a weak man, or maybe he was a killer to begin with. Grey, thankfully, has his kind human side to balance him out, but there will always be conflict with a wolf so powerful. You soothe the conflict. He says you are the only thing that works.”
“I remember his maker,” Morgan said with ghosts in her eyes. “I’ll never be able to forget him as long as I live. After Grey was bitten, he ran into the forest before I could even call after him. I grabbed Lana and locked us in the truck.” Her lightened gaze found Grey in the dark. “I called the police and when they arrived, they found a man stabbed to death with Grey’s knife. They asked me questions, but I told them I didn’t know anything. You gave everything to save us and they tried to pin that man’s murder on you.”
As much as he tried not to think about that night, it had started everything. The entrance to hell and the light out, all in one. He pulled a twig from the wooden boards beside him and plucked the single remaining leaf that clung to the bark. Closing his eyes, he tried to repel the memories of the pain. Before that night, he’d never really known what hurt was. Wolf had shredded him over and over in his attempt to escape his human form. Thoughts of Morgan were what he’d clung to as his mind and body had ripped apart.
“So I know my eye color is a big deal. Why? Will it make me a monster like Grey’s maker?”
“No, no, it is nothing like that,” Rachel assured her, “but it does make you special--one of a kind, as a matter of fact. You heard Logan call you a silver wolf, but silver wolves haven’t existed for hundreds of years. From the moment you started to Change, Dean knew there was something different about you. White fur is common in the wild, but it doesn’t exist in werewolves, and he knew from your eye color it wasn’t a fluke. He, Grey, and Wade spent hours researching old text, looking for any clues on your history, where you came from, and how to protect you. Even though the silver wolf clan was annihilated by humans and vampires, at least one survived and she is your ancestor. Some
how, the genetics have been passed down through generations of humans to you. You are a silver wolf, and possibly a breeder.”
“A breeder?”
“Yes, female wolves are unable to bare children, but there is a distinct possibility that because you are a decedent of the only known breeding werewolves, that you will be able to.”
A slow smile formed on Morgan’s lips. He wanted to taste it.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Her hopeful gaze found his in the dark. “I mean, it opens up options for us, doesn’t it?”
He nodded sadly. How could he tell her the thing that was so enticing would also bring her unimaginable danger? How could he dampen that hope?
Rachel’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You would be the only breeder in the world. The impact you will have on our pack, on all of the packs, on our community and culture will be huge. You will go down in our history as the beginning of the new silver wolf clan, and it is Grey’s job to protect you no matter the cost. Our pack has offered to keep you safe as well--”
Morgan tensed and shook her head. “No, stop! Just wait. Grey’s job to protect me?”
He didn’t envy her racing thoughts. She had been Changed against her will, survived a lethal werewolf attack, realized her entire life would be forever turned upside down, and now she had to deal with the fact that she was this super one-of-a-kind breeder wolf. This wasn’t Morgan. She didn’t want to be different or special. Her life was devoted to Lana, to him, and she seemed completely content with a simple existence. She seemed happiest when their life was quiet. Being special wasn’t a blessing for the supernatural. It was a curse, and realization darkened her expression until all that was left were shadows.
