Dark Wolf Running

“Just a dance, Elise. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Then Wyatt was taking her into his muscular arms, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning at the sudden, chaotic rush of emotion. It was such a consuming, overwhelming sensation, being held by a man again, and her breath caught with a sharp, audible gasp as he pulled her against the hardness and heat of his muscular body.

Trying to remember how to breathe, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders, the soft cotton of his shirt warm beneath her palms, and took a quick glance up at his face to find him watching her, his expression fierce…intense, and yet, somehow impossibly gentle. “I’m dizzy,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he told her, his beautiful mouth shaping the words, making them sound like something seductive and wicked.

RHYANNON BYRD is an avid longtime fan of romance and the author of more than twenty paranormal and erotic titles. She has been nominated for three RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Awards, including best Shapeshifter Romance, and her books have been translated into nine languages. After having spent years enjoying the glorious sunshine of the American South and Southwest, Rhyannon now lives in the beautiful but often chilly county of Warwickshire in England with her husband and family. For more information on Rhyannon’s books and the latest news, you can visit her website at www.rhyannonbyrd.com or find her on Facebook.

Dark Wolf

Running

Rhyannon Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This one is for the lovely Debbie Hopkins Smart. It’s not the first book I’ve dedicated to you, Debs, and it won’t be the last, because there simply aren’t enough ways to say thanks for everything that you do. You are and always will be made of awesome!!!

THE BLOODRUNNERS’ LAW

When offspring are born of a union between human and Lycan, the resulting creations may gain acceptance within their rightful pack only by the act of Bloodrunning: the hunting and extermination of rogue Lycans who have taken a desire for human flesh. Thus they prove not only their strength, but also their willingness to kill for those they will swear to protect to the death.

The League of Elders will predetermine the Bloodrunners’ required number of kills.

Once said number of kills are efficiently accomplished, only then may the Bloodrunner assume a place among their kin, complete with full rights and privileges.

THE DARK WOLF

A Dark Wolf bloodline is the purest of the Lycan race.

They are the most primal and powerful of their kind. Visceral. Predatory.

Creatures of instinct and hunger.

They are the potential for all things good and evil.

And they will forever act with furious vengeance to protect the ones they love.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Prologue

With his sharp gaze locked on the most magnificent female he’d ever set eyes on, Wyatt Pallaton did his best to choke back the deep, aggressive growl rumbling up from his chest—and for the most part, he succeeded. But then, most was a relative term. Several of the nearby guests glanced his way at the stifled scrape of sound, their eyes narrowed with censure, warning him not to be rude. As if he didn’t already grasp the situation. He knew damn good and well that a wedding was generally considered a “no growling” affair. Even ones where the majority of those attending were a far cry from human.

Still, he didn’t want to make a scene. Sending the disgruntled werewolves, or Lycans, as they preferred to be called, a tight smile, he waited until they’d turned back around in their seats before allowing his own irritation to show.

Mindful of the occasion, Wyatt was doing his best to keep a tight rein on himself—but Christ, it wasn’t easy. Predatory hunger, visceral and thick and savage, poured through his veins like liquid fire, burning him from the inside out. His body was tense, muscles so rigid and tight he felt like a bloody volcano on the verge of eruption. Just another ground-shaking, life-altering, cataclysmic event in the making, putting the tension on fate’s bowstring until it was ready to snap. Twang. Hell, it wasn’t as if he and his fellow Runners hadn’t had enough of those “what did I do to piss off the gods?” events lobbed in their faces recently. And here he was, balancing on the edge of a meltdown. Sweet. He was about to take the “biggest jackass of the year” award. Lucky him.

With his large hands clenched into hard, straining fists in his lap, Wyatt ground his jaw and tried like hell to keep it together. But there was only so much that a man could endure. Based on the pathetic fact that he was shaking apart inside with lust and need and too many damn confusing emotions, he could only assume that he’d finally reached his limit.

After months of biding his time, waiting for the stubborn woman to acknowledge their mutual attraction and come to him, he’d had enough. Not surprising, he supposed, since as a primal, aggressive male, waiting wasn’t exactly one of his specialties. Undeniably dominant in nature, the thirty-five-year-old Bloodrunner was accustomed to going after what he wanted with single-minded intensity, not stopping until he had it—but these were unusual circumstances.

And Elise Drake was a far cry from your average female.

Considering the length of time he’d been without a woman, he’d known tonight wouldn’t be easy. He’d tried to stay calm, but the sight of Elise walking down the aisle in her bridesmaid gown, the flowing whisper of silvery-gray silk accentuating the sumptuous perfection of her figure, had damn near done him in. Now, as the sun melted into the horizon and the lavender shades of twilight darkened the sky, revealing an iridescent spattering of stars, he was forced to sit in his chair and pretend that hunger wasn’t ripping him into tiny, pathetic chunks, one excruciating piece at a time.

Exhaling a slow, ragged breath, Wyatt forced his hands to relax, flexing his fingers and rubbing his palms into the black fabric of his tuxedo trousers. The monkey suit was strangling his throat, and he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable sensation that he really was coming out of his skin.

Beside him, his Bloodrunning partner, Carla Reyes, shot him a dark look from the corner of her eye. “Stop fidgeting,” she hissed under her breath.

“When is this damn thing going to end?” he grumbled, sounding like a petulant child on the verge of a tantrum. He winced, more than a little disgusted with himself.

“What’s your problem tonight?” Carla demanded, arching one slim golden brow in his direction. “I thought you liked weddings.”

He grunted in response and tried to force an outer look of calm togetherness. Carla was right, damn it. Unlike most men, Wyatt usually did enjoy these kinds of things. He liked the social aspect of hanging out with his friends and colleagues, the way his parents had often done when he was younger and they’d lived with his mother’s family. He liked the food and the beer, the laughter and the dancing.

It was the women, though, that he’d always enjoyed the most. Like a bridesmaid banquet, there were always plenty of single ladies to choose from. He’d never been as arrogant about it as Cian Hennessey, one of his fellow Runners, but he was definitely a man who enjoyed his sexual variety.

Tonight, however, Wyatt had eyes for one woman—and one woman only.

Of course, Elise Drake was hardly just any woman. Fiery and cool, strong and yet at the same time achingly vulnerable, she was a fascinating combination of opposites that had managed to turn his entire world on its head.

“Keep staring at her like that and she’s gonna notice,” Carla whispered, jabbing her elbow into his arm.

“Maybe I want her to notice,” he muttered, appreciating the way the twilight turned the fiery strands of Elise’s hair a deep, vibrant red, her dark blue eyes the color of a storm-ravaged sky. He’d chosen his seat specifically because it afforded him a clear view of her place in the wedding party, but he hadn’t anticipated how torturous it would be.

“What? Could it actually be true?” Carla gasped, pressing one delicate hand to her bountiful chest. “After months of waiting, you’re finally going to get off your ass and do something about her?” She made a soft, feminine snorting sound and rolled her eyes. “Call me cynical, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Shifting in his seat, Wyatt stretched his long legs out as far as he could and tried to relax. “I’ve been waiting for the right time,” he said tightly, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered talking to Carla. He loved her like family, but like a bratty little sister, the Runner got too big a kick out of pushing his buttons.

“Bullshit,” she quietly snickered. “You’ve been waiting for her to make the first move. But guess what, Pall? She’s never going to come panting after you like all the other ladies. Not in this lifetime.”

Biting back a foul curse, he groaned instead. “Trust me, I noticed.”

“Anyway, it’s good to see you conquering your fear,” she said brightly, patting his thigh. “I’m proud of you.”

Turning his head to the side, Wyatt gave her a hard, steely look. “I’m not afraid of her.”

Obviously unconvinced, Carla just smiled. “Right,” she drawled, her tone making it clear that she didn’t believe him. Problem was...the little brat knew him too well. He’d been Bloodrunning with Carla for almost seven years now, and she no doubt understood him better than anyone. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Will you stop trying to pick a fight?” he muttered. “I said I’m not afraid of her and I’m not.”

“Hmm. I know you’re not afraid of her physically. You just don’t know what to do with a woman who doesn’t go all starry-eyed every time she gets near you.”

Choking back another primitive growl, Wyatt drew a second round of disapproving stares from their neighbors.

“I suppose it could be that she just doesn’t like you,” Carla offered with a delicate shrug of her bare shoulders, after motioning with her fingers for the frowning guests to turn back around in their seats. “God knows I’ve seen crazier things happen.”

Wyatt slanted her a mean look. “Reyes?”

“Yeah?” she asked, giving him an innocent smile.

“Shut up,” he grunted, while she snuffled a quiet burst of laughter under her breath.

They listened to the ceremony for a few moments in blessed silence, until she leaned in close again, asking, “So are you on duty later tonight?”

He sighed, knowing there was no sense in lying to her. “Yeah.”

“Took another shift again, huh? Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Just fucking drop it,” he warned, pushing his hair back from his face in another restless gesture of impatience.

“Okay, okay.” Her voice softened, as if she’d decided to take pity on him. “Hey, maybe you’ll even get lucky and she’ll actually take you home with her. I’m sure that little scenario would be a hell of a lot more fun than watching her from the woods.”

As Carla turned her attention back to the love-dazed couple exchanging vows, Wyatt leaned forward and braced his elbows on his parted knees, thinking he had about as much chance of getting invited home with Elise Drake as he did of becoming a friggin’ ballerina. And the hell of it was, he wasn’t even ready to go home with her. Not when he was still trying to wrap his head around how he could get everything he wanted from her without giving more than he was willing.

And, God, did that make him sound like a dick.

Yeah, there was a lot he needed to get figured out in his head. But no matter how bloody difficult it proved to be, he was done letting her pretend he didn’t even exist. Done driving himself slowly into this maddening state of frustration, with no apparent end in sight.

One way or another, he would approach her tonight—and with that firm decision finally came the merciful beginnings of peace. Leaning back in his chair, he kept his avid gaze focused on Elise as he lazily crossed his arms over his chest, the rise of anticipation in his veins like hot, thick syrup. Wyatt figured he might get his face slapped for his efforts. Hell, knowing Elise, he might even get a knee in his balls. But one way or another, things were about to change.

Come hell or high water, she was done running.

Chapter 1

Three hours later...

Elise Drake hated weddings—even ones torn straight from the pages of a fairy tale.

Not that the pure-blooded Lycan had anything personal against the institution of marriage. It was the event itself that she couldn’t stand: gloms of people gathering around, smiling and incandescent with happiness, while she had to plaster on a beaming smile, doing her best to disguise the truth. To pretend that she wasn’t freaking out at being in a crowd where everyone was expected to act friendly and sociable.

Brittle. On edge. About to crack at any moment, shattering like a crystal goblet slammed against a craggy surface. That was how she really felt, screaming inside her head, wanting to flee, to run, but forced to play a part, projecting an outward look of cheerful, joyful celebration. Smile, wave, laugh. And all the while thinking that she would do anything—anything—to escape. Twist an ankle. Fake a headache. Hell, at that point she’d have jabbed a freaking pencil in her eye if she thought it would get her out of there.

But none of those things were going to save her tonight. She was surrounded by too many who “cared”—who made it their mission in life to protect, rather than destroy. Unless, of course, the thing they were hunting deserved to be destroyed. Though years of bad blood stood between the Runners and their birth pack, the Silvercrest Lycans, the werewolves owed their survival to the half-human hunters.

After all, it was the Runners who had put an end to the gruesome events that Elise’s own father, Stefan Drake, had set in motion the previous autumn. Events that had not only decimated the political structure of the pack, but which had also left the Silvercrest vulnerable to outside forces, with a new set of enemies sniffing at their borders, eager to take advantage of their weaknesses. With her brother’s and the Runners’ help, the Silvercrest were finally entering a new era that would modernize their archaic social structure, and hopefully lead to a day when the pack’s racial injustices against the half-human Runners would become a thing of the past. But it would be a long while before they were the powerhouse they had once been.

The winter had been rough, rife with lingering animosity and grief, until the snow had finally bled away to reveal a new sense of hope that came with the spring. One not without trouble, but at least the Runners were now allowed in the pack’s mountaintop home of Shadow Peak without it leading to a call for violence.

Tonight, in light of the occasion, the Runners, along with their friends and families, had agreed to put their troubles behind them—and yet, her brother’s wedding or not, Elise knew they were all keeping a close eye on her, which was why she was trying so damn hard to act normal. After the craziness of the past few months—with all the murder and mayhem, the betrayal and bloodlust and strange occurrences—the protective alphas had her in their sights, waiting for the moment when they’d need to rush to her rescue.

But Elise didn’t want them to save her.

All she wanted was to be left alone.

Brave words, but it’s too bad they’re a crock. You don’t really want to be left all by your lonesome. Not really. Every chance you get, you’re eating him up from the corner of your eye, soaking up every detail...mooning like a pathetic love-struck puppy.

“Not going there,” she muttered under her breath, frustrated at herself for even thinking about him—the one particular Runner who’d snagged her attention and whose image wouldn’t leave her in peace. Tall, dark and dangerously sexy, Wyatt Pallaton was too goddamn good to be true. The first night she’d set eyes on him, last fall, Elise had decided that the fascinating hunter was a taboo subject, even within the privacy of her own mind. Being near him was impossible, and even thinking about him made her too tense—just one more thing that she couldn’t deal with right now.

No matter how badly she wished things could be different, the mesmerizing Runner was a complication she couldn’t afford, and so she’d vowed to stay clear of him. It should have been simple, except for the frustrating fact that he showed up everywhere. Now that her brother Eric had become a Runner, she and Wyatt seemed to be thrown together with unbelievable frequency. Too often they were at the same dinners, celebrating the same birthdays, showing up at the same meetings. And each time she was forced to be near him, her maddening fascination grew more intense.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst was that she’d started wishing for the impossible, thinking of what could have been if she’d only met him sooner. Despite the fact they lived only miles apart from one another, Elise had never met the gorgeous Runner until a few months ago. A sad fact, but one that attested to the separation that had existed for so many years between the Silvercrest werewolf pack and the Bloodrunners, who not only handled the unsavory task of hunting down the pack’s rogue wolves, but who also protected the secret of their existence from the human world.

Aside from Eric, who was as pure-blooded as a Lycan could be, the Bloodrunners were comprised of half-human, half-werewolf hunters. It was because of their human blood that they were denied the privilege of being Silvercrest members, until, according to the Bloodrunners’ Law, they completed a designated number of rogue kills. Of course, that had all started to change after her father destroyed the pack’s governing League of Elders. Now that the League was gone and a new era of democratic government was being chartered in, Eric had tried to have the Bloodrunners’ Law abolished, but the Runners were still resisting. They had no more desire to be members of the pack than the Silvercrest wanted to share their town with them, and so while relations had marginally improved, they remained strained.

Still, some significant progress had been made, and the Runners were now in charge of securing the pack’s borders. With time, Elise believed that the two sides would learn to accept one another.

Of course, that also meant that no matter how hard she tried to avoid him, the odds were strong that she and Wyatt Pallaton would be seeing more of each other.

And when that happens, you’ll be going right off the deep end.

She did her best to shake off the unsettling thought and took a heavy sip of her wine, forcing her mind back to the celebration happening around her. So far, Elise had managed to avoid what seemed to be a never-ending stream of nuptials taking place in Bloodrunner Alley—a small, picturesque glade located several miles south of Shadow Peak—but there’d been no excuse that could get her out of her own brother’s bliss-filled ceremony. Now that Eric had become a Runner and moved into the Alley with Chelsea, his human life mate, he’d been accepted as one of their own. The other hunters wouldn’t hear of the ceremony being held anywhere but in the center of the secluded glade, surrounded by their cabins and the majestic beauty of the Maryland mountains, as was custom for the Bloodrunners.

Despite its rustic setting, everyone had done an amazing job of transforming the Alley into a flower-filled paradise worthy of any society wedding. There were white-linen-covered tables, a free-flowing bar, mouthwatering food, good music and even a gleaming parquet dance floor. It was the kind of fairy-tale wedding that Elise had once dreamed of someday having for herself, before her world had been painfully torn apart. Her body had mended, thanks to the miraculous healing powers of Jillian Burns, one of her closest friends, but the emotional wounds were still bleeding and raw, like a festering sickness in her soul.

It was all so ironic, considering her bloodline. As a Dark Wolf, the offspring of two powerful pure-blooded Lycan lines, she should have been one of the most dominant females in her pack, and instead she’d been reduced to someone spooked by her own shadow, startled by every sound, completely disconnected from those around her. She could hide behind her sarcastic mouth and attitude all she wanted, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Now that she’d spent time around the Runners, they’d slowly learned to see past her bravado and had begun treating her with...care, like something unspeakably fragile that they were afraid of bruising with their rough-edged masculinity. Even Cian Hennessey, the irreverent Irishman, was going out of his way not to be his usual arrogant, smart-ass self when around her.

There were times when it all just made her want to scream—and at others, it simply made her want to pack up her car and start driving, heading down the open highway, until she’d left it all behind her.

For the love of God, do you even hear yourself? that tired internal voice grumbled within her mind. Can we get off the pity train already? Because in case you didn’t notice, it’s taking us nowhere.

The wind picked up, blowing through the glade, bringing with it the crisp, heady scents of the spring forest, as well as the damp promise of rain. On the one hand, Elise hoped the approaching spring showers would hold off for just a little longer, enabling Eric and Chelsea to enjoy their reception. On the other, she couldn’t help but think that if it rained, then the night would come to an early end...and she could finally leave.

Dressed in her sleeveless bridesmaid gown, the chill of the air quickly bled into her bones. Shivering, Elise looked out across the crowded glade, and Chelsea caught her eye from the dance floor, where Eric, looking devastatingly handsome in his tux, held his wife in a tight, possessive hold as they swayed to a sultry love song. The brunette gave her a friendly wave, accompanied by a genuinely warm smile. Radiant in an ivory gown that made her look like a princess, Chelsea’s contagious happiness was almost enough to soothe Elise’s brittle nerves. She managed to smile in return, angry at herself for having to force an expression of pleasure onto her face. Damn it, she liked Chelsea and couldn’t have been happier that her brother had fallen in love with such a warmhearted, amazing woman. She was truly thrilled for them, and she honestly wanted their wedding to be perfect. She just...she just didn’t want to have to be a part of it.

Stop whining, you big ol’ baby. Just suck it up and stop acting like a pathetic bitch.

Wishing that know-it-all voice in her head would shut up and leave her the hell alone, Elise took another sip of wine while her gaze wandered over the crowd, until she came to the table where Wyatt sat. Unable to get her fill of him, she secretly watched the dark-haired Runner, same as she’d been doing all through the night. He leaned back in his chair, a cold beer in his right hand, his head tilted back as he laughed at something his Bloodrunning partner, Carla Reyes, was saying. The pretty, petite blonde looked like a golden little angel, but Elise knew Carla could be deadly when she needed to be, and she envied the lone female Runner that power. She’d have given anything to be like Carla, fearless and free to do as she pleased.