Page 3 of Scarlett's Wicked Wolf
The forest seems to lean in closer now, as if it’s listening. I murmur a protective charm under my breath, drawing a sigil in the dirt with my finger like Grandma taught me. But even that feels thin. Like paper armor against iron claws.
Get the herb, go home, reinforce the ward, and?—
A growl threads through the trunks.
Low. Deep. Not human. Not even close.
I turn slowly, every part of me trembling. At first, I see nothing. Then... two gleaming eyes ignite the dark between the trees.
A rancid aroma reaches my nostrils.Rot. Decay. Faintly sulfurous and wrong.
A wolf lumbers from behind the trees, but not like any wolf I’ve ever read about. His eyes glowred, not gold, and his fur is patchy with scars and ragged edges. He looks like something stitched together from bones and nightmares.
Massive. Mangled. Wrong.
And his claret eyes are fixed on me.
I step back
He prowls forward, lips peeling back to reveal teeth like yellowed knives.
“Stay back!” I shout, but my voice trembles.
He lunges.
I spin and run, cloak snapping, knife flashing in one hand, ginger clutched tight in the other. I make it three, four heartbeats before he’s on me, barreling into me with the impact of a falling tree. The ground punches the breath from my lungs, and I hear the bone snap in my wrist a split second before the pain hits. But it’s nothing compared to the agony of his claws raking down my chest, tearing leather and skin alike.
A scream rips from my throat even as I try to slash at him with my knife, but he knocks it away. His breath is foul and hot against my neck as he leans in. Whimpering, I close my eyes, waiting for his jaws to close around my throat...
A crash. A blur as a second wolf slams into the first, knocking him sideways.
I scramble back, choking on my fear, watching as they collide—black fur against scarred gray. The forest erupts with snarls and yelps as they bite and claw at each other, rolling through the leaves like demons locked in a hellish dance.
The gray wolf tries to pin him, but the black wolf is faster, all fluid power and terrifying grace. His jaws close on the gray’s shoulder with a wet crack. The red-eyed wolf yelps as he tears free and evaporates into the trees like smoke sucked up a chimney.
The scarred one howls and tries to pin the other, but the black wolf is faster. Stronger. Furious. He bites into the scarred wolf’s shoulder, and I hear the wet crunch of bone.
The red-eyed wolf yelps andvanishes, melting into the forest like smoke.
Silence falls as the black wolf turns.
I know instinctively that this is a male. He’s massive, black as obsidian, fur rippling like liquid night. Easily the size of a miniature horse, his body is a monument to muscle and primal hunger. His paws crush the earth with deliberate intent.
And his eyes—those amber eyes from my dreams—lock onto mine. Staring. No, not just staring.Claiming.
Instinct tells me to run. Logic tells me he’ll catch me in a heartbeat. Magic tells me I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m being…pulled. Drawn to him.
I gasp as the adrenaline wears off, and pain takes hold, gripping me with icy fingers. I glance down, and nausea roils in mystomach as I see my shredded flesh. Warm blood leaks from my chest, and my heartbeat thuds erratically in my ears.
I’m dying.
I know it with a bone-deep certainty.
The black wolf steps toward me, slow and deliberate but not threatening. Not like the other wolf. Heat curls low in my belly as he lowers his head and inhales along the line of my shoulder, over the torn leather of my cloak, to my throat, where my pulse flutters like a trapped moth. His amber eyes narrow as they scent my blood, locking onto my wounds.
Something flickers in his lupine gaze. Panic? Fear?
Hot puffs of breath graze cheek and neck. He presses his snout into my hair and gives a low, guttural growl mixed with a rumble of satisfaction.
