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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Wolf Rain

  Copyright © 2008 by Flesa Black

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-347-0

  Edited by Heidi Moore

  Cover by Anne Cain

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2008

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Wolf Rain

  Flesa Black

  Dedication

  To my husband, a living encyclopedia of little-known facts, who is patient enough to explain why physics really does have a place in a story.

  To my partners in crime, who were willing to read, shred and still made me feel competent.

  To Tiberius, foot warmer, ribbon eater, laptop-computer lover and writing familiar. You are missed.

  Chapter One

  It was raining. But then it was always raining. Watery light spilled out from the gray clouds, casting silvery shadows along the tall buildings and sidewalk. Puddles smacked against the soles of her black tactical boots, sloshing the grungy liquid over the rounded tips. A quick breeze ruffled her hair and she pulled her black trench coat farther around her body. Even spring in England was cool, though nowhere as harsh as the winters. Only thirty years before, there had been sunlight, moments of bright rays that warmed a person’s body. A trip to the beach meant heavy sunscreen. People could picnic under shady trees or even out in the open instead of under rain-blocking canopies. But now life was about hurrying through the days when humans were safe, and surviving the nights when monsters roamed the streets.

  In the distance, Big Ben rang its deep, sedate chimes five times. She had an hour before she had to be inside, securing her flat, checking the windows, making sure everything was dead-bolted and padlocked. She also liked to give herself plenty of time for the soothing routine of brewing tea and putting on the television to watch the prerecorded shows. Shows calculated to keep the populace calm during the night. No one, not even studios or radio stations, would dare to work past moonrise.

  She was turning the corner, her eyes searching the growing shadows, when she saw movement in the periphery of her vision. If she hadn’t been vigilant, she would have missed it. She moved quickly, dodging to the left and up, avoiding the body that flung itself at her. She immediately grabbed the palm-sized spray can she always carried in her pocket, yanking it up to point it at the quivering animal who stared and growled.

  “Leave off, you bastard. Go prey on a bunny rabbit before I cause you permanent damage,” she warned with terse words.

  The wolf snapped his teeth and snarled, edging closer. She knew better than to back down. These creatures enjoyed the chase, the stalking of their prey making them more violent. She knew this alleyway, too, was familiar with every corner and deep garbage trough. She had a better chance here, where she instinctively knew her surroundings.

  “You think this will just sting?” She waved the red canister, cradling it firmly in her hand. “It’ll blind you. It might even make you sterile. Tuck your tail between your legs and go away.”

  The animal shook his head as if to dislodge her words, his dark brown coat gleaming with specks of water. She took a deliberate step back, knowing she would have a garbage canister to her right. There were two ways out of this alley: straight ahead and around a sharp right bend, and to her left, where she would end up back on the main street. Not that the main street would do her any good—most people would ignore her pleas out of self-preservation.

  She leaned to the right, saw the wolf’s paws move in that direction and immediately took a fighting stance. If she could force him to attack, then she would be able to spray him. Even a small amount of wolfsbane would cause him pain. While he was distracted, she could make her getaway. But first, she had to make him pounce.

  “You want fresh meat, is that it? Or do you want the taste of a sweet-smelling human woman instead of a female of the furry variety? Not that any woman would willingly lay down for you, mind you. I can definitely see why you’d have to force—”

  That was all it took. He was so riled that only a few words had him springing forwards. She took immediate action, holding her ground as she aimed the spray where his face would soon be. Once he was in the air, his teeth gnashing close to her throat, she pushed the red button and lunged back. The creature fell to the ground, howling and writhing in pain. She didn’t stop to enjoy her triumph. She began running to the back of the alley, mentally mapping the turns that would take her towards her flat.

  She had barely gone five feet before she heard more growling. She came to a complete stop, nearly toppling forwards under the momentum of her pace. She swallowed and willed her breathing to slow, carefully focusing on the noise as she waited for the sound again. She didn’t have to wait long.

  There it was, the growling, but it wasn’t just one lone sound. There were several layers to it, as if…

  They came out of the dark, their eyes shining and their heads bent as they glared at her. A pack of them, four in all, were stalking towards her, deadly intent in every move they made. They inched forwards stealthily, their padded feet muffled against the hard asphalt. She couldn’t take them all. She would maybe get one shot off before the others were on her. She tried not to panic, instead relying on her father’s lifelong teachings. Find the alpha. Take him down. The others would still attack, but one might stay behind to protect the fallen leader. The rest wouldn’t be nearly as fast or as strong, and there might be a chance…

  She took a deep breath and silently demanded her muscles to be steady. She knew what to do to give herself at least some slim chance of survival. And if she was going to die, she sure as hell was going down fighting. She searched the wolves that were only a few feet away, zeroing in on the white-haired animal as the alpha. He was slightly larger, just a fraction of an inch in front of the other creatures. He would be the first to pounce, and the others would follow. He was her target.

  She took her stance again, bracing her legs slightly apart, gripping the wolfsbane in her fist. The world began moving in slow motion as the leader crouched slightly, the muscles in his legs tightening. She narrowed her eyes and waited—and nearly gasped when the wolf was thrown to the other side of the alley, his thick body smacking against the brick wall.

  The others immediately turned and began barking and snarling, racing towards whatever had taken down the alpha. She stood for a few beats, blinking as she stared at the fallen creature. Blood was slowly seeping out of his side, matting the white fur with its scarlet color as the jagged corner of a cracked rib stuck through the pliant flesh. The Shifter’s head was turned at an awkward angle, his eyes open and unseeing, his tongue lolling from between his sharp teeth. Dead, she thought, and was stunned. Her logical mind told her to run, to use the distraction to get the hell away from the Shifters. But the other part of her brain was filled with blinding curiosity, a curiosity that overrode every other thought. Suddenly she, too, was running, following where the other wolves had gone. She had to see what had done this.

  She stopped abruptly a few feet into the side alley, staring in amazement as another wo
lf was flung past her, landing like a rag doll on the hard, wet ground. There was a shadow in the mouth of the alleyway, a dark visage that looked strangely like a man. She watched, mesmerized, as he pushed another wolf away then kicked at the fourth. They weren’t down, though—she could still hear the dual growling of the furious creatures.

  They bounded at the same time, launching themselves at the stranger with more strength than grace. He didn’t so much as flinch when they jumped. He simply opened his arms wide, waited a split second and crushed their skulls together. They fell to the asphalt with a muted thud, splashing into a puddle.

  She didn’t know what to do, what to say, and she wasn’t sure if she had the words anyway. It wasn’t possible—at least it wasn’t supposed to be possible. A human taking on a pack of werewolves, it was too much like an urban legend. Managing to escape them, certainly, but actually taking them down… Impossible. To her knowledge it had never been done, though her father had conjectured about how it might be possible.

  “You should go home.”

  His voice was deep, slightly sharp, the gravel in his tone strangely soothing and electrifying all at the same time.

  She couldn’t stop the snap of her words as she pocketed her spray. “That’s where I was headed. I certainly wasn’t going clubbing at this time of day.”

  She could have sworn she heard a chuckle before he replied. “You should let your boyfriend walk you everywhere.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.” She stared at him a moment, trying to decide if he’d just given her a horribly cheesy pick-up line, or if he was making assumptions. From his expression, she decided he wasn’t trying to scope her out. “Besides, I’ve seen most grown men scream and run when they’re confronted with Shifters. I could do without the hysterics.”

  “True, but two are less likely to be attacked than one.”

  “And one shouldn’t even be attacked at five in the afternoon. They shouldn’t be shifting until moonrise.”

  There was a soft whoosh of air as the shadow shifted his weight. “You have a good point. They shouldn’t be able to… Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

  He turned and took a step into the watery light of day, pausing as he waited for her. She stared at his wide shoulders and decided his offer had to be one of the most interesting proposals she’d ever had. She wondered if he ever thought of hiring himself out as a bodyguard. She knew she’d be one of the first in line to pay for his services.

  “You shouldn’t walk home alone,” he repeated, his back still to her.

  Sighing, she shrugged and made her way out of the alley, carefully stepping over the lifeless bodies of the wolves. She knew that in the next hour, their tissue would begin to break down and their bodies would shift back to human form, leaving them naked and mangled. There had been a time when she’d pitied them, but she had been very young then.

  In the soft light, she could easily see the muscled physique and proudly held body of her rescuer. His dark brown hair was worn in a severe crew cut, a look that hadn’t been popular in the civilian sector for years. She noted his urban camouflage, from his broad shoulders all the way to his large feet, and felt suspicion crawl up her spine. There were two guns strapped to his side, and she was sure each was filled with wolfsbane bullets. If the bullet itself didn’t kill the animal, then the concentrated liquid at its core would poison the blood as well as cause excruciating agony. Only certain government-sanctioned agencies were allowed to carry such things, though she knew civilians had ways of purchasing the bullets underground.

  When she finally reached the stranger, she stopped directly in front of him, determined to see the face of the man who had saved her life. Government or not, she had to concede she owed him more than she could ever repay. What she saw when she finally laid her eyes on him sent her back a quick step.

  He was gorgeous. There was no way around it. This man was a fine specimen of the male species. From behind she could see that he was well muscled, but a nice body did not an interesting face make. And his face was more than interesting, it was enthralling.

  He wasn’t pretty—far from it. His eyes, a golden copper, were topped with heavy eyebrows and surprisingly thick lashes. His cheekbones were broad and sharp, his nose slightly off kilter, as if it had been broken and never properly set. His jaw was hard and angled in what looked to be a permanently stubborn state, the flesh covered with rough stubble. What kept him from looking too much like an old poster for an adrenaline-laced movie was the scar. The lacerations must have been deep, leaving three jagged lines from just below his left eye to just under his jaw. She could tell they were old; the skin was white with age, the scars gently raised with no obvious signs of new healing. He could have easily had them worked on. With technology and a good surgeon, they would have been nearly imperceptible. She wondered what they meant, what sort of memory was attached to them, since he had kept the marks rather than have them removed.

  He stared down at her, his gaze searching her face, and she had the strangest feeling that he was sizing her up, as well. She tilted her head and let him have his look before she spoke.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “Most people wouldn’t have—your arm!”

  Blood was trickling down his heavy biceps, following a wild path down to his fingertips. She grabbed the ragged material of his sleeve, carefully lifting it out of the way to examine the torn flesh along his deltoid.

  “I suppose you’re Florence Nightingale?”

  The amusement in his proper English voice sent a thick thrill along her veins. A dark, heavy sensation settled at the juncture of her thighs as her stomach did a sudden somersault. Desire, she realized with a startled jolt. It was quick and sure and undeniable. She had never had such an immediate, physical reaction to a man. It was as unnerving as it was fascinating.

  Carefully keeping her words brisk, she continued to ignore his stare and concentrated on his injury. “No, but I do have a first-aid kit at home. Since you seem to be taking me there anyway, I’ll patch you up. It’s the least I could do.”

  She didn’t hear a reply, but assumed he nodded. She reluctantly let go of his arm, unsure why she wanted to keep touching it…to keep touching him. It was the adrenaline, she decided, that was what the sudden attraction came down to. She’d been attacked and nearly killed. It made sense that she wanted, and probably needed, human contact. And who better than the man who’d stepped in to save the day. A man who shouldn’t have been able to do what he did. A walking legend.

  “Which way…?”

  She knew he was asking her name. In the past, she had been very careful who she gave it to. She supposed her first name would do for now. She doubted he’d be around long enough to ask her surname. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

  “Diana. This way…?”

  Turnabout was fair play, she figured.

  There was only a slight hesitation before he answered, “Harm, Harm Asher.”

  If he thought that would encourage her to give her last name he was going to be sorely disappointed. She gave a curt nod and turned on her heel, absently rubbing her fingers together as the heat of his blood penetrated the soft tips. Somehow, his name fit his persona. Maybe that old saying was true about your personality shaping to fit your name. Or maybe it was that a mother knew her child as it grew in her womb, understood who and what the baby was before they were born. Either way, she doubted she would have a chance to question this man about his heritage. Once she had him patched up, she was sure he would be on his way.

  Chapter Two

  He liked her. He didn’t know how it had happened because he usually didn’t care for civilians, but it had. He’d heard her in the alleyway threatening a werewolf in a cool, menacing voice, and had run in to help. He had been shocked to see her take the animal down with such steely grace. But he’d known what she hadn’t. The wolf had been with a pack. The creature had probably been the weakest one, and so they’d sent him out to scout for prey. Harm had felt the others and h
ad known she wouldn’t make it home alive. After finding a spot far enough back to lure them away from the woman, he had turned, only to see her standing her ground, eyeing the alpha. The girl had guts, he had to give her that, and bollocks of steel. Or would that be ovaries?

  Either way, she’d used her head. She’d known not to run immediately. She’d known to pick out the pack leader to incapacitate first. And she’d also pointed out, even in what had to have been a state of shock, that the Shifters shouldn’t have been attacking at five o’clock. They were changing sooner, damn it. The gene was beginning to mutate.

  “Here we are.”

  Diana’s voice played like a heady drug over his body, the sensation coiling in his groin. Another anomaly, but one he could answer simply enough—she was an attractive, unattached female who had looked at him with hot eyes not more than five minutes before.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and followed her up the steps of an older brick building, stopping a hair’s breath behind her as she punched in her access code and swiped her key. He caught himself inhaling her scent, a sweet fragrance mixed with a deep musky aroma, and nearly sighed in disgust. Okay, he’d admit she was a fit bird. Her black hair was thick and flyaway, cut up high in the back and falling to just below her jaw in the front. It made a man itch to taste her neck, to stroke the delicate skin and muscles with his tongue. Her face was oval shaped, her blue eyes gently upturned, her small nose pert, her cheekbones high. She had a beauty mark just above her plump top lip, a small flaw that wasn’t so much a defect as a temptation. Her face was naked, clean of makeup or any adornment. He hadn’t even seen earrings winking from underneath her hair. He liked the idea of a bare lobe ready for his teeth to nip at. Even her accent, plainly American, did a wild number on his tingling crotch.

  “This is me.”

  He shook his head, realizing he’d been trailing behind her without knowing. That wasn’t good. That type of break in his concentration could cost lives. Still, when she unlocked her door he found himself stepping inside behind her, his gaze scanning the place she called home.