Helping people is what Denny Patton does. Most of the time, it’s through his duties as a cop in San Francisco, but every once in a while, he steps in and aids his brother in an underground battle for those without any rights under the law—werewolves. Their latest mission is to rescue a group of wolves held captive and forced to do the unspeakable. The task will put Denny’s career at risk, but in his heart, he believes it’s the right thing to do.
Especially when one of the wolves turns out to be Elijah Garber, the man who disappeared from Denny’s life seven years ago.
Elijah and Denny were high school sweethearts until Elijah disappeared from the Bay Area the summer after they graduated. The note he left behind told Denny and his family to move on without him, but Denny has never forgotten his first love. Now, he wants answers as to why Elijah left all those years earlier. But more importantly, he wants the future they were always meant to have...
NOTE: This book is part of the Bay Wolves series.
Genres: Gay/Dark Fantasy/Werewolf/Shapeshifter/Suspense/Thriller/Series
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (19k words)
Read a short excerpt...
...“How much time do you think we have?”
“They’re not due back for at least another three hours. More than enough time to get everyone out and cover up your scents once you’ve gone.” She stopped in front of the last stall on the right. Her hand rested on the door’s latch, but she hesitated instead of opening it. “Like I said, this one’s a fighter. Has been from the moment they brought him in. But I don’t want you to think it’s because he’s the monster they all claim he is. None of these people asked to be what they are.”
“Then why did he attack someone this morning?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did that brother of yours explain what you’re getting these people away from?”
“No.” It hadn’t mattered. People plus cages was wrong, no matter who they were.
“They rent them out to anyone willing to pay. For fighting, for sex, for sport…you name it. This one’s been here for almost six years, and they still haven’t been able to break him. He fought back this morning because that’s what he does.”
“But you’re sure he won’t fight back against me. How is he going to know I’m not one of them?”
“He’s still wolf. He’ll be able to smell it.”
She thumbed the latch and stepped out of the way when she swung it open. I waited for her to go in first, but when seconds passed and she didn’t move, I realized she meant for me to go in after him instead.
My stomach churned. I didn’t want to be nervous, but I was. A hurt werewolf? Asking for trouble under any other circumstances.
She cocked a brow. Her opinion of how ridiculous I was being was obvious.
If she wasn’t afraid, I wouldn’t be either.
I had to duck to enter the stall. The floor inside was packed dirt, with a bucket in the corner that was obviously meant to be used as a toilet. Though the cell was clean, the lingering scent of shit and piss hit the back of my nose strong enough to make me wonder how a creature with a super-sensitive nose managed to survive in it. A pile of blankets along the outside wall served as a bed, but its owner wasn’t on it. He was curled up in the corner, his back to the door. His head was tucked into his arms, but the shaggy ends of his dirty blond hair fell over his thin neck. The threadbare T-shirt he wore was ripped over his shoulder blades, like someone had tried to grab onto him and he’d wrenched away. Through the tears, burn marks in varying healing stages peeked through the gray fabric.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
At the sound of my voice, his muscles visibly hitched, like he’d caught his breath. Was he awake? Alert? In the long run, did it matter?
“Hey,” I said softly, testing the water. I inched forward, keeping it slow, just in case he turned and lashed out. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
A sound that was undoubtedly a whimper emanated from the man. The only word to describe it was pathetic.
My heart broke a little. “I know you must be in pain.” Crouching down, I closed more of the distance, more confident than I’d been when I’d entered. “I’m here to make sure that stops.” I paused. I was within reach of him now, but I wasn’t sure if it was safe to touch him yet. Though he was conscious, he was too accustomed to punishment. I didn’t want to scare him further. “I’m Denny, by the way. What’s your name?”
I heard his exhalation, and his shoulders sagged. A pale hand braced against the floor, the nails caked with dirt, the cuticles filled with dried blood. The muscles in his forearm trembled as he tried to lift himself up.
My instincts took over. I slid an arm around his chest to give him more leverage.
“It’s okay.” I wondered if saying it actually made a difference. It did to me, but my well being didn’t matter here. “I’ve got you.”
Another whimper vibrated through his frame. He was whipcord thin, but displayed surprising strength as he finally lifted his head.
The hair fell away to reveal a familiar set of blue eyes. I hadn’t seen them in over seven years, except in dreams, and those paled in the face of the real thing.
It was my turn to be afraid to breathe.
“Oh, my God. Elijah...”