Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Shock ripples through me
The pup with no ears.
The pup. With. No. Ears.
The memory of Oma and the Warden’s murmured conversation ten years ago returns to me in a flood. I’d forgotten about it until now.
Could this be him?
And more–could he be the same man I’ve been dreaming about?
His energy feels the same as what I sensed in the elevator at the museum. I didn’t see or hear him, but I feel certain this is the same man who held me on his lap while I had a fit. I’m almost certain that he’s the man from my visions.
But if he’s the wolf with no ears, that means he’s going to destroy the Adalwulf pack.
My survival instinct kicks in, and I fight him, twisting to pry my body free, even though I still can’t see anything. It’s like fighting a stone wall. He’s not hurting me, but I can’t escape his grip.
I’m weak from fasting and the vision-sickness, and everything in me wants to sink into his warm, wild scent.
“Sorry, princess, but you’re coming with me,” he says.
“Coming where? Why?” I ask then remember he can’t hear me nor can he see my lips move in the dark.
I hold my breath, reaching for guidance from the Grandmothers, but, like in the elevator, there’s too much at once. I go into convulsions again, unable to process any of it.
I succumb to unconsciousness as I’m carried off by the enemy, but the visions crystalize into stillness. I’m in my bedroom dreaming, and I wake to see a young man is dreaming with me. He’s in his bed but also somehow in the room with me. He sits up and looks at me.
“Noah.” I project the name without speaking. We’re telepathically connected.
Noah! That is his name. I know his name. And now I’m certain he’s the same man from the elevator. The same man holding me now.
Somehow, I feel I’ve had this vision/dream before; I just didn’t remember it.
I’ve been waiting to meet you for such a long time, I tell him, which I guess is true.
Who are you? he asks.
Disappointment jabs me in the chest. My dream self wanted him to know me. Thought that he would.
You don’t know? I ask.
He shakes his head. I want to.
Chapter Eight
Noah
In for a penny, in for a pound.
I’m sure I just signed my death warrant. I had no intention of kidnapping the Adalwulf Seeress, but I suppose it’s even better than stealing the tiara they want to use to enable her magic.
I’m not one to argue with Fate. I’ve never experienced the kind of clear guidance as I received today. While it may be that the wolf-witch sent the visions, it didn’t seem to be a trap.
Perhaps she needed rescuing. She was at the top of what appeared to be a prison tower, and she’s far too thin.
Either way, I’m certain destiny brought me to her.
If she were human, I would take her to a hospital to make sure she isn’t dying, but since she’s a wolf, I hold her in the rental car until she slips into unconsciousness, then take her to the nearby cabin I rented for the week.
She sleeps on the couch, her face peaceful, her breath slow. I crouch beside her, staring at her lovely visage.
She’s like a china doll. Perfect, smooth skin–too pale to be healthy. Long, dark lashes that fan in delicate feathers along her closed lids. She wears no makeup, and she’s in the same thin white shift she was wearing in the dream I had with her.
The one where she warned me I would have to pick a side before the war came.
I assume she meant a war between packs.
But I don’t know why she would think I’d be involved. That war has never been mine. I’m not a Blackthroat. I’m certainly not an Adalwulf, even if my mother is Moonborn. I have no allegiance to either pack.
I’d finally forced myself away from my fascinated study of her to cook dinner. She looks underfed, and after the fits she had, she’ll need her strength back.
Logic dictates I should tie her up. She’s my prisoner, after all. But nothing in me could make me do it. Nothing in me wants to do anything but brush the backs of my fingers along her cheek to see if it’s really as soft and smooth as it appears. So I do. Just once, just to see.
And it is.
But instead of focusing on her beauty, I should be formulating a plan. I have Brick Blackthroat breathing down my neck over the tiara heist.
I just stole the Adalwulf’s biggest prize. If the Adalwulfs decide the Blackthroats are behind her kidnapping, I could’ve triggered a war. And more than that, I have a slender, lovely but powerful she-wolf sleeping on my couch and no plan for how I’m going to keep her from running away.