The wolf regarded me for a moment longer before it raised its monstrous head and howled into the night.
Full-blown terror slammed into me as the wolf’s cry was echoed by another in the distance, and then another, and another. I jerked my gaze to the tree line surrounding the carnival and I knew, even if I couldn’t see them, the wolf had a pack. And he had just called them for dinner.
I swiveled my gaze back to the wolf, startled to find it had moved even closer to me, now stood less than a few feet away. The smell of its rank breath as it puffed air from its body was made worse by the constant rolling of its tongue along its snout, which coated its muzzle in slime. I started to take a step back—one foot raised, just a tiny movement—and the wolf growled, baring its impossibly large fangs, snarling until I placed my foot back on the ground.
In a crazy moment of desperation, I raised my hands in front of me.
Maybe it just wants to smell me, and then it’ll leave me alone.
The psychic’s words flashed through my mind. You are marked for death.
Feeling like a fool, I pulled my hands back and wrapped my arms around myself.
The wolf regarded me, its head cocked as if studying my behavior. Something flashed across its eyes—something I couldn’t quite explain, an intelligence that made me feel all the more vulnerable. It took another step in my direction and then awkwardly lurched backward and raised itself onto its hind legs.
My eyes flew open wide, the strangeness of the situation momentarily dispelling my fear. I was shocked even more when the creature moved toward me with a grace that suggested it walked on its hind legs regularly. I choked on a hysterical kind of giggle. This had to be some kind of prank, a trained animal that the carnival owned. Maybe the wolf had escaped from its cage. My heart thudded painfully as I prayed some trainer would come and call his pet off.
Beware of the beast. He comes for you.
It moved closer, its fangs flashing in a silent growl. I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat, struggling not to sob, not to beg for my life, all thoughts of laughing gone. I knew that there was no trainer. I knew that no one would come to my rescue. I slid my eyes closed, unable to face the hideous monster glaring down at me.
I felt its horridly hot breath against my skin, smelled the rancid scent of decaying meat caught in its teeth, could almost feel its tongue upon my flesh as it licked its snout again and again.
For once, a psychic was right. I’m going to die.
“You are mine.”
Huh? My eyes flew open as disbelief and confusion rushed through me. The beast stood looking down at me, its eyes showing that same intelligence I’d had a fleeting glimpse of moments before. Human intelligence.
Holy shit!
“You are mine,” the wolf repeated, its garbled words almost unintelligible, slurring like a drunk as he sprayed my face with spittle. “You are my bride.” He gave a rough laugh, almost like a bark. “I will claim you.”
My already racing heart kicked into a frenzy, fight or flight instinct making my knees wobble. What the eff? I struggled to speak, to untangle my tongue and make some sense of the situation. Talking wolves. Wolves that stood on two legs, walked and talked.
“I must be dreaming,” I murmured, dizzy all of a sudden. My vision wavered. This had to be a dream. I was probably still in Fiona’s tent, dead asleep.
“No dream, Morgan.”
I startled violently at the use of my name, and snapped out of my frozen state. I took a stumbling step back only to have the beast follow me once more. “Oh god.”
“No escape.” He growled. “You are mine.”
I turned my head, the smell of the wolf’s breath almost unbearable to my senses, searching for a way to escape, tears burning my eyes. Much to my horror, the wolf raised its paws and gripped either side of my face, its long claws pressing into my flesh—threatening to break the skin, forcing me to look at him again.
“Submit to me,” he ordered.
As I opened my mouth to speak, another sound reached my ears. Boots on gravel. The sound of someone running, someone coming closer. Hope trickled through my paralyzing fear.
The wolf turned its massive head away, looking toward the sound, releasing my face. His eyes widened with shock or recognition, and I turned to see what he was looking at.
But all I saw was black.
Chapter Three
The Prophesy
When Caleb heard the call of the wolf, his gut bottomed out. He had a matter of minutes to find her. He pumped his legs faster, relying on instinct to locate the Huntress. If she died, if he failed…well, that just wasn’t an option.
Not this time. Not his Huntress.
He had been chosen for this night, and he would get to her first.