Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“My name is Dustin Constus Hill,” he finally managed on a husky whisper. “I harvest the land for the pack.”
“Noble indeed,” the man rasped, his voice lowering to a puff of air that brushed across Dustin’s forehead. “I too, harvest for my lands.”
To Dustin’s absolute dismay, the sexy man oh so slowly dragged his hands down his cheeks until they were gone and back at his sides.
“My brother has found his true love here and has decided to make these pack lands his home instead of in the western realm. I will always come to his aid if he calls. And if you ever need me…” The titan placed his hand in the center of Dustin’s chest and closed his eyes, making his wolf go insane with want. The man spoke to Dustin without opening his mouth, but he still heard the words as clearly as if he’d spoken them aloud as a damp breeze touched his earlobe. “I am Notalus Cavalerie, Lord of Tir an Fhomhair. Do not forget me, handsome mortal. Whisper my name on the south winds, and I will come for you.”
Shifters began to come out of their cabins when the darkness lifted and the moon broke through the clouds, casting a light on the land they’d feared was gone forever. Dustin waved the shifters over to let them know it was okay—they were all going to be okay.
But when he turned back to Notalus to thank him for his help… he was gone.
Dustin
Oh Damn. Not Again
“Boss, you gonna open the barn door or what? Time is ticking away.”
Dustin had spaced out for most of their walk across the field. He rubbed his palm over the center of his chest and took a deep breath to clear the vivid memories from his mind. He couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the past when he had storm preparations to oversee. Dustin stuck the key in the padlock to the tool shed that held their most expensive equipment and ushered the guys in before him.
“Looks like the eye of this damn storm won’t hit us dead-on, but we’re gonna get a lot of the outer bands, boss. The wind gusts have surged to over a hundred and forty-five miles per hour, putting the storm at a category four,” Jerry rumbled. “Damn near the opposite of what was first predicted.”
Dustin patted Jerry on his shoulder as he walked past. The young wolf was vibrating with nervous energy, and Dustin knew that one firm touch from his own beast had the ability to appease his friend’s meek animal. “Stop acting defeated already. What do I always say?”
Jerry practically sagged into his grip. “I know, I know. Panic causes tunnel vision.”
“Exactly.” Dustin gave them all a serious glare. “Stay focused.”
Mark—his second—clapped his big hands together as if to rile up the others. “Come on, fellas, we got this. Let’s make our alphas proud.”
Dustin got to business and began to issue his instructions. “Alright, we know what to do to protect the more sensitive crops, and we’ll stack the weighted hay bales around the corn and wheat fields. Jerry, you find Macy and the rest of the hands and start to board up the greenhouses.”
His crew was already looking tired, and Dustin was also feeling the fatigue from working all day and now having to work through the night as well, but he put on a brave front regardless of how he truly felt. It was going to take them until dawn to get to every single field, but they would work until they couldn’t move another muscle if that’s what it took to protect the pack’s primary food source. By the time Dustin and his guys had all of the equipment pulled out of the storage sheds and sorted, more shifters had come to volunteer and offer help to the farmhands and the stable managers. Surviving off the land wasn’t easy, and it came with its challenges, the elements being the greatest one. Living high up in the White Mountain Forest, Dustin had battled his fair share of hurricanes, lightning storms, and blizzards to last him his entire lifetime, and it never got easier. Each disaster was just as terrifying as the last and came with its own wave of dread.
By the next morning, Dustin and his crew had erected the sturdiest fortress they could and secured every field and greenhouse to the best of their abilities. At six forty-five, all of them were dragging ass, including Dustin, but he kept it well hidden. With his dirty face and hands caked with grime, Dustin tilted his head toward the sky, hoping to see the fall sun rising over the ridge of the Oreck Mountains, but instead, dark, angry clouds thundered toward them from the south.
The betas of the pack ordered everyone back to their cabins to hunker down with their families and ride out the storm. But Dustin didn’t have a mate or children to protect, only his crops, so he made himself a thick pallet on the dusty, wood floor of the barn closest to his delicate muskmelon patch. He was so exhausted every muscle in his back and legs was screaming for relief or maybe for a soak in a hot tub, but the unforgiving floor would have to do.