Page 17 of Feral Mates
As I closed in on the building, I continuously scanned the woods. There was no creepy-crawly feeling like earlier in the day. Just electrified tingles. All I could hear were birds chirping in the trees. When I was near the front porch, I peered around me. The little house definitely had that unlived-in look. Blinds were closed and there were no flowers or flags, no rocking chairs or anything on the porch.
I took my time going up the two stairs, grimacing from hearing the creaking sound the aged wood made. After mentally boosting my courage, I knocked on the door.
And waited.
The good girl in me wanted to simply look around the exterior and leave. But the bad girl in me tried the door.
And found it unlocked.
Why did I suddenly feel like I was walking into the grandma’s house fromLittle Red Riding Hood? As soon as I walked in, I realized the house had been locked down either for the season or maybe in preparation of a sale. There were sheets covering furniture. It appeared no one had been here for a long time.
Then why was the door unlocked?
I ventured in further, being very careful not to disturb anything. It didn’t take me long to realize that someone had been inside and from the looks of it recently. Areas of dust that had been disturbed, sheets removed. I moved throughout the house, finding more evidence that someone had been inside.
Or maybe more than one.
Maybe I should look even harder to see if there’d been a prison escape. I wasn’t going to find anything here.
Feeling disappointed, I headed downstairs and to the front door.
Before I reached the entrance, as I’d felt in the morning and the night before, hair stood up on the back of my neck. My pulse immediately responded and my rapid heartbeat created a dull, but penetrating echo in my ears.
I wiped my sweaty hand on my jeans while keeping the other wrapped around the knife.
Then I opened the door and moved onto the porch.
The quiet in the forest caught me off guard. There were no birds chirping, no late afternoon cicadas. Just quiet.
Until I heard a slow rumble, deep and throaty, sensual in a way that stole my breath. I could feel them. They were here. They were waiting. They were hungering.
That was seconds before I saw them as they appeared one after another. Graceful yet defiant.
Gorgeous in a way few would understand.
Powerful in their stance. They owned the forest.
Wild and free.
And completely dangerous.
Amber-hued eyes, intelligent and unforgiving.
Their thick fur almost luminous in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.
Black. Blond. Whiskey-colored.
Wolves.
CHAPTER 6
Apollo
Hunger.
Unbridled.
Unyielding.
