Wolf Slayer

FORBIDDEN DESIRE

Descended from a long line of werewolf trackers, Tess Owen knows everything there is to know about hunting the big, bad beasts—except what to do when you find yourself falling for one.

Solitary, preternaturally powerful Jonas Dale is a legend among his own kind—and among those who want to destroy his kind. He’s also undeniably sexy. Longing intensifies Tess’s hunt for this lone wolf, and her prey’s passion matches her own. Meanwhile, a common enemy stalks them both. Will desire save Tess and Jonas, or will it destroy them?

“Show yourself,” she demanded, though her voice was softer, lower and almost a purr.

Her tone stirred Jonas’s insides in a strange way, as if he could feel its vibration from where he stood. That purr melted into his skin, sparked his nerve endings in a way that created its own electricity.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, do you?” he asked. “I can’t speak to the actions of any of those others. I can only repeat that I mean no harm to you and leave it at that.”

“Can you prove what you say?”

“I can prove it by turning my back and leaving you alone and in one piece.”

“Or by showing yourself,” she suggested, with more tension on the string of her bow.

Jonas stepped into the moonlight, allowing the rain of silver light to wash over him. His shape-shift was completed in the few seconds it took him to reach Tess Owens.

He had her knife in his fingers, her hand in his and the tip of the razor-sharp blade she carried tight up against his chest before her blue eyes, wide with shock, met his.

Growling was the only way Jonas now had of speaking to her. That growl rumbled menacingly as he held her gaze and pressed the tip of the blade into his own flesh.

“Do it if you don’t believe me, wolf hunter. Go ahead.” Was it the shock of his shift, his appearance or his speed that stayed her hand?

Or maybe it was the look in his eyes as they met hers...

LINDA THOMAS-SUNDSTROM writes contemporary and paranormal romance novels for Mills & Boon. A teacher by day and a writer by night, Linda lives in the West, juggling teaching, writing, family and caring for a big stretch of land. She swears she has a resident muse who sings so loudly, she often wears earplugs in order to get anything else done. But she has big plans to eventually get to all those ideas. Visit Linda at www.lindathomas-sundstrom.com or on Facebook.

Wolf Slayer

Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

South Dakota. Hills. Forests of trees. Secluded cabins in the woods. Acres of uninhabited space. Can you picture it?

This is where I’ve set the latest book in my Wolf Moons series, and I’ve been excited to explore the extremely fragile and always volatile relationship between werewolves and the hunters who go after them. Because not everything is ever as it seems with these two sides of the supernatural spectrum...and well, sexy is sexy, no matter where we find it. Right?

Two opposites, attracting. Forces beyond their control pitting a man and a woman against each other, and against what each stands for, as a truly dark entity comes prowling.

This is Wolf Slayer.

Imagining stories like this one is the reason why I enjoy writing about the werewolf world. I always look forward to finding out what these tall, edgy, gloriously sexy weres can do to make my blood boil. And then I hunt, as they do, for just the right adversary in the form of a strong, independent woman who might turn up. In this case...plenty of sparks fly!

I hope you’ll love Wolf Slayer as much as I loved writing it.

Please do check out my website to keep track of what’s coming up next. Connect with me on my Facebook author page. Stop by and say hello. I’d love to hear from you.

Cheers—and happy reading!

Linda

LindaThomas-Sundstrom.com

Facebook.com/LindaThomasSundstrom

To my family, those here and those gone, who always believed I had a story to tell.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dear Reader

Dedicatin

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

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Tess Owens didn’t like dark things. Or the full moons that brought dark things out of hiding.

Standing in the front yard of her secluded South Dakota home, she could see a vague imprint of the moon rise over the treetops. Familiar sensations tied to the big silver orb flooded her system in waves. Flush of heat. Spikes in her pulse. A sudden upswing of anxiety.

Full moons messed with her nervous system in a way Tess supposed similarly affected the creature she’d go after tonight when the stars came out. Although it was only late afternoon, her body was doing its thing, readying, gearing up for the time when adrenaline would push her beyond normal human limitations and she’d become the thing she had been created to be. Hunter.

Tonight, she’d need every ounce of strength she possessed if she met up with the dark thing that had taken up residence in the area. Because tonight was going to be special.

Rumors about the newcomer had been spreading throughout the towns nestled in the hills of South Dakota for a few days, and those rumors didn’t begin to address the level of danger this new threat posed. She had been aware of the trespasser since it arrived.

The thing in these woods wasn’t human. Its otherness was rich and dangerous. Acknowledging it gave her a thrill, because hunting anomalies is what her family had done best when they were alive. As bad luck would have it, she just happened to be the only Owens left in this part of the Dakotas, so the job was hers.

Hunting big bad creatures after nightfall wasn’t for everyone and definitely not for the faint of heart—especially the kind of hunting her family was known for among certain circles. As far back as anyone could remember, the Owenses had been big-game specialists, not after lions or tigers, but wolves of a certain variety—the kind that walked upright on two legs and often looked like everyone else until a full moon rolled around.

“Plenty of light tonight,” Tess muttered.

There were no clouds and not one hint of a storm system rolling in...unless she counted that damn newcomer as a special kind of storm. The werewolf that had dared to come here.

“Wolf,” Tess said, standing near her front gate and searching the area west of the tall pine trees. “I know about you. I can taste your presence.”

The fact that ninety-nine percent of the world’s population didn’t know Weres existed was a testament to how talented that species was at keeping secrets. But Tess and her family had been wolf hunters for nearly as long as werewolves had been around.

She was going to have to be careful, though. The nervous twitch in her shoulders suggested that this sucker had an ominous vibe. Tonight wasn’t going to be easy. Even now, Tess breathed in the uniqueness of this creature’s essence.

Either a particularly powerful new werewolf had moved to the neighborhood, or she wasn’t worth the O carved on the hilt of her hunting knife.

O—the symbol for a pledge some ancient-based Owens had made to cull werewolf numbers.

O—a sign that was symbolic for zero, as in the number of werewolves that had gotten past her family since they had moved to the Dakotas thirty years ago.

O—for the look on miscreant werewolf faces when a well-placed silver knife or arrow terminated their freakish existence.

“And now you,” Tess said, pacing the yard. Although some were rumored to be good, she hadn’t seen the good stuff in any of the man-wolves she had hunted. Those creatures left a lot of damage behind. And she had never set eyes on a full-blooded Were, male or female, because Lycans, as those pure-bloods were called, tended to run in secretive, close-knit packs.

“So why are you trespassing where you don’t belong?” Tess whispered. “It’s my duty to catch you, you know. My job. My calling. I take my vows seriously.”

After her first hunting expedition with her father at the age of eight, she had accepted her role and had never looked back. At the ripe old age of twenty-four, she had the family name to live up to and didn’t take that honor lightly.

She was fast, strong. Her life depended on those things. One mistake, one too many hesitations and death would be the result. Even talented hunters didn’t usually last very long.

“I know you’re out there somewhere, wolf. Will you offer me a game of hide-and-seek or just magically appear?”

South Dakota wasn’t a hotbed for supernatural activity, unlike big cities in the West and East. There were slim pickings here for monsters, so a werewolf hadn’t crossed her path in months.

“Until you.”

She paused to scan more of the forest. Being alone for so long had made talking to herself out loud an acceptable habit.

“A beast like you took down both of my parents, leaving me without backup. But don’t assume that means I’m weak.”

On the contrary, the loss of her mother and father last year had energized her need to take care of problems that arose. So here she was, fighting back, fighting hard and willing to go to extremes in order to deal some payback to the creatures that had taken so much from her.

“I will find you. That’s a promise.”

If luck was on her side, the new Were wouldn’t get wind of her before she found it. Out of necessity, she had become good at stealth, but werewolves also had keen, fine-tuned senses that were apt to be better than hers. She bore the scars to prove it and wore those scars like notches in her belt to mark the fights she had not only survived but won.

Would this guy know about her?

“Twelve,” she said. “Twelve half-crazed werewolves have ventured too close to this part of South Dakota for their own good.”

She ran a hand down the left side of her face, tracing a line of lightly raised scar tissue. “Number seven did this to me, and regretted it.”

She raised an arm, showing off ridges on her left wrist. “Number nine.”

If the people in town knew about what she did—about how far she had to go and how much she had sacrificed to protect them from the monsters—her loner status would make sense. But they could never know.

“Can you hear me, wolf?”

Maybe it could hear her. And maybe not. Though the keenness of werewolf hearing was legendary, it wasn’t miraculous. They weren’t gods. Weres were just one of nature’s peculiarities.

Then again, possibly this one’s hearing was better than most.

Straightening up with a sudden jolt of insight that demanded her full attention, Tess focused harder on the trees.

Someone was out there.

Chills arrived before the next rush of heat obliterated them. That familiar flash of warmth, originating in her chest, quickly radiated outward to kick her adrenaline levels through the roof.

The creature was here.

Watching her.

The air around her vibrated with a telling whisper that said, Male werewolf. Big. Strong. Intense.

Tess gritted her teeth in anger. By coming here, that Were had crossed a line.

“I don’t care much for trespassers and haven’t asked for company,” she announced at a reasonable decibel. “Especially yours.”

No reply came.

He was sizing her up.

Tess shifted from foot to foot as a sudden external wave of heat blew in to raise her own rapidly escalating body temp even further. The damn heat wave was like being caught in a lava flow and so hot, her stomach turned over.

Tess widened her stance to meet that heat wave head-on. But it was gone as suddenly as it had come. Just like that, and as if the trespasser had merely called it back...

Leaving Tess breathless.

* * *

Jonas Dale stopped five feet short of the chasm dividing his land from his neighbor’s. Exceptional sight allowed him to peer through the trees.

The air was cool. An acrid odor of woodsmoke left a tang on his tongue. Aside from the normal forest fragrances of pine and scrub, he could detect a human.

He had heard about Tess Owens, of course. Word traveled fast and went something like this: hunter in residence. Wolves beware.

Coming here had been a risk. But he needed to be in the remote hills of South Dakota and about as far from his home in Florida as was geographically possible.

The choice of this location hadn’t been made without careful consideration. Tess’s family’s reputation preceded them. If the thing chasing him knew about the Owens family, surely it wouldn’t imagine he’d come here, so close to one of them.

In this case, he was using Tess Owens as camouflage.

Since word had come of the Owens deaths last year, Jonas figured he might get away with this. Still, extra caution would be needed when dealing with any member of that clan. Cunning and the power of persuasion might be the ticket to keeping Tess off his back if she would listen to reason.

Would she be open to hearing anything he had to say when her family was notoriously unforgiving to his kind?

He had come here today, near her home, for a quick look and to judge for himself about Tess. Finding her had been easy. She was standing in her yard, near enough for an agile werewolf with a grudge to take her on without the benefit of any moon-induced physical changes. He wasn’t that wolf, however. Not today. Not ever, hopefully, since his energy was needed elsewhere and he had little time to spare.

Underscoring the mixture of woodsmoke and wildflowers near the Owens cabin were hints of other scents that only a Were’s imagination would acknowledge. Energy. Anticipation. Blood.

Danger had its own unique fragrance, and this Owens offspring had Were blood on her hands. Her head was lifted, her posture tense. If she was good at what she did, there was no way Tess wouldn’t already have a bead on him.

It was a standoff, from a distance, before they had even gotten to hello.

Looks were fairly deceiving though, Jonas had to admit. Tess Owens didn’t look so formidable in person. She was tall but delicate, small-boned, long-limbed and young. Her shape was sleek and accentuated by tight jeans and a skimpy shirt that showed off too much skin and failed to reflect the current coolness of the afternoon temperature.

She had long, fair hair, most of it twisted into a braid that hung halfway down her back. A few unruly strands blew in the same breeze that had carried her scent to him, and those wayward strands were the only bit of wildness in her that he perceived.

The fair hair was a surprise, though. For some reason, he hadn’t expected this werewolf slayer to be a blonde. Not that the color of her hair made a difference in the long run. It’s just that he had a soft spot for golden-haired beauties. Still, Jonas wished he could see her face to witness firsthand the malice that had to be reflected in her eyes.

There were other curious particular details about her as well. Tess’s skin was paler than any outdoorswoman’s skin should have been. That little discrepancy seemed odd since she had to maintain her shape somehow and the great outdoors was her backyard.

Her shoulders were gracefully curved. Slender arms showed good muscle definition, as if she worked hard at something other than chasing Weres. Tess was visibly lean and fit. Too bad she wasn’t a Were, Jonas mused, because he appreciated her looks and could have made the most of them in other circumstances.

Lean, wiry, fierce females were his preference. Females who could hold their own and give back what they got. Females who didn’t usually bend unless they wanted to. He would have liked to run a palm over all that bare skin. Equally as pleasurable for him would have been to touch those silky golden tendrils currently hiding her face.

Wild was, after all, every werewolf’s middle name. In his twenty-eight years of dealing with his species, he had come to recognize the extremes of Were needs and wants...and tamp them down when he had to.

No such luck here, though.

Shaking his head scattered the impossible images taking shape in his mind. The only way he was going to touch Tess Owens would be in self-defense when she came at him with an intent to kill.

That was a shame because he knew instinctively that Tess Owens was something special and so much more than the reputation that preceded her.

He just couldn’t put a finger on how he knew this.

As his body shuddered with a mixture of appreciation and wariness for this new opponent, Jonas spoke softly so that Tess wouldn’t be able to hear what he had to say.

“Possibly that’s your greatest asset in dealing with my kind? We tend to underestimate you after a first glance? Pretty girl all alone in the woods?”

Inwardly, he also added, I vow not to become one of the suckers overly intrigued by those things. All I have to do is stay out of your way and hope you can determine friend from foe.

He prayed that Tess Owens might turn out to be an ask-questions-first kind of predator, just like he was. But this wasn’t the time for introductions and more wayward thoughts having to do with Tess’s tight jeans. Any hunter with a rep like hers wouldn’t let a full moon go to waste. Tess Owens would make the most of tonight and come knocking at his door fully armed and ready to rumble.

He had to keep her from doing so.

“I’m not what you think I am, Tess. I’m here, not to mess with you, but to protect a secret of my own. I’m needed. Someone else’s life depends on what happens here and what I do, and you just need to stay out of my way for a while.”

Did she get those confidences sent across the distance separating them? Jonas watched her turn her head as if she might have. He also felt a pull from somewhere behind him, an indication that he had to get back to his temporary home.

Having an Owens next door was one strike against him. The other creature that was looking for him was far worse.

Death was coming and would find him eventually. The black-cloaked, soul-catching bastard was the greater opponent, the mightier threat, and the monster he needed to keep at bay. Besides himself, there was only one member of the Dale family left, and his sister’s life depended on his ability to protect her. That had become his goal in life.

The bad news was the wave of aggression coming from Tess Owens and the silent words he swore he heard slip from her lips.

“It’s a date, wolf. Tonight. Don’t be late.”

At this point, so early in their association, probably nothing he could have said in return would have changed her mind.

Chapter 2

Tess paced the room as night began to descend. Wearing leather pants, a black shirt and black boots, she took a quick look in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything that might make the difference between life and death when dealing with a werewolf.

She looked good enough, Tess thought, though people in town stared at her for other reasons when they met her. More than one of them had probably wondered where she might have gotten so many of the scars that crisscrossed the side of her face.

“Will he keep our date? What do you think, Tess?” she asked herself as she strode down the hallway of the cozy, eight-room, wood-paneled cabin.

Determined to find out the answer to that question, Tess entered the weapons room and chose a knife with a gleaming silver blade. She slung the bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder, adjusting easily to the added weight, then rolled her neck to ease the tension building there.

Gloves on, weaponed up, she walked out of the front door. After giving the cabin a last glance, she set her sights on the trees and slipped into the dark.

* * *

“It’s okay.”

Jonas spoke softly to his sister, though he wasn’t sure how much of what he said ever sank in. There hadn’t been a verbal response from her since she had been attacked in a Miami park not too far from where they had lived.

Gwendolyn Dale had grown frail and lethargic on the outside—the parts others saw if they looked. He hoped the darkness he now sensed inside his sister would eventually fade away and be replaced by the happy-go-lucky sister he had always loved.

Sometimes, though, he wasn’t so sure about the darkness’s staying power.

Jonas tended to believe the attack in Miami had left Gwen with a black spot on her soul, and that she had been marked by Death in some way. This had to be the reason there seemed to be a specter on her trail. He thought it likely that his sister wasn’t supposed to have survived that attack, and that she had been slated, fated, or whatever the hell happened in the big cosmic scheme of things, to have died that night in Miami.

In the end though, what did he really know about such things? His entire repertoire of ideas was based on nothing more than conjecture and supposition.

“I have to go out, Gwen. Just for a while.”

Jonas laid a hand on his sister’s shoulder and winced at its thinness.

“I’ll be back soon, so take care while I’m gone and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Gwen would have laughed at the last part of that statement if she had been with him mentally as well as physically. Out of everyone else around them, his younger sister had been the most like him. She had been developing a similar kind of power and strength, even though neither of those things had helped the night she slipped out of the house with her friends without telling anyone and had encountered true darkness.

Gwen had been the only victim left alive out of the four young girls...if the term being alive could describe the state they had found her in. It had taken weeks of seclusion for her to recover enough to move her to this remote location. She hadn’t said a word to anyone since that terrible night.