When Lexi shrugged, the most amazing thing happened.
It struck Tryst so hard, he slapped a hand to his chest to slow down his suddenly rapid heartbeats.
What? she asked.
You know whats even more amazing than your skills on the slopes? He pointed to her face. That gorgeous smile. Lexi, I just gotta say, right now I so want to kiss you. But I feel like I have to ask your permission, or risk a sharp left hook to my jaw.
That chased away her smile. Right. Well. Ill see you tomorrow, Hawkes.
Lexi marched off. Even in the snow boots, she managed a sexy hip-shifting sashay. Tryst whistled lowly.
His inner wolf howled, and then, Tryst let it escape, carrying out a long vocal song that declared his interest in Lexi and placed a challenge to any who would protest.
Dear Reader,
Im thrilled to present this double volume of werewolf romances to you. In Forever Werewolf youll meet my newest werewolf hero, Trystan Hawkes, who has a complicated family history, and must learn to embrace that before he can truly love another.
Now, I write my stories in a world I call Beautiful Creatures. Sometimes characters show up in other books, and other times children of a previous hero and heroine couple might have their own story. If you are interested in learning more about my world, do stop by Club Scarlet online at clubscarlet.michelehauf.com. Ive also begun making boards on Pinterest for each of my books. There I pin pictures of the people who inspired my heroes and heroines, places, things and homes that are also featured in the books. Find me as toastfaery. Its fun!
Michele
About the Author
MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. Her first published novel was Dark Rapture. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries populate her stories. And if she followed the adage write what you know, all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries she has never visited and of creatures she has never seen.
Michele can also be found on Facebook and Twitter and at michelehauf.com. You can also write to Michele at PO Box 23, Anoka, MN 55303, USA.
Forever
Werewolf
Michele Hauf
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Chapter 1
The stretch limo rounded a plowed country road that had segued from asphalt to gravel about three leagues south. The area was remote, perfect for a pack to live in relative privacy, though there was a village not far to the west. The village catered to mortals with a taste for quality skiing and secret liaisons in cozy cottage hideaways.
The gravel road was lined in frost-coated trees. The sky was white, the road packed with white snow. The proverbial winter wonderland.
A remarkable castle rose from the snow-blanketed valley and into Trystan Hawkess backseat view. His father, Rhys Hawkes, had told him the fifteenth-century castle Wulfsiege was something to see. He had understated the remarkable structure.
Set in the Hautes-Alpes region of southeastern France, the multiturreted castle, forged from pale limestone, was surrounded by waves of pine forest, and mountains capped with pristine powder. The almost-white stone blended the castle against the landscape in an eerie effect that must have been a sudden shock to marauders from the past as they marched upon the fortressed structure.
A literal wall of snow, sheered off by a plow, fenced the left side of the road as they approached, as if a glacier, pushed just far enough, had decided to stop and rest for centuries. Pale winter sun glinted on the wall of snow and flashed as if across steel.
Trystan ached to ski or snowboard the gorgeous powder. His wolf pined to lope along the forests edge under the moonlight on four legs instead of two.
Should have brought along the board, he said to the driver, who pulled the limo to a stop at a massive iron gate coated with more of the hoarfrost and flashed his credentials to the gatekeeper. Man, Id love to shred that stuff.
The Alpine pack hosts the games every other year, the driver said in a cheerful voice. Edmonton Connor is the principal. Wolves from dozens of packs across the world show for the competition.
Competition, Tryst muttered, feeling a blood-deep competitive streak flash through his veins. Winter games, as in skiing and snowmobiling?
And snowboarding and two- and four-legged races. Its quite the spectacle. This isnt the year though. Next year.
Tryst gave a disappointed whistle. I will most definitely be back.
Its quite calm here today. One would never guess just yesterday the area experienced a fierce snowstorm. Covered an icy layer of December snow with a foot of the fluffy stuff. Pretty.
Pretty, Tryst thought, but also dangerous. Mother Nature may be capable of producing stunners like the view hed admired while driving up, but she could also be a bitch in areas like this set between mountains and valleys. Sudden storms could trap recreational skiers without warning.
Weve arrived, Monsieur Hawkes. Shall I wait?
Tryst tore his gaze from the immense limestone front of the castle, where purple banners depicting a wolf rampant whipped in the wind, and dug in his pocket for his wallet. Then he remembered this was a limo the pack had sent to pick him up from the nearby village, and not a cab. Before that, hed cabbed it from the airport to the village. The flight from the Charles de Gaulle in Paris had been rough. He hated flying, unless it was unimpeded through the air on a snowboard over extreme white powder.
Must partake of the pow while Im here, he muttered.
He lived for physical competition, and winter games were his sport of choice. Skimming down fresh powder, icy snowflakes misting his face, his body in complete control of the boardheaven. He couldnt believe there were actually games for his breed. Outstanding! Too bad hed come here during a year when the games were not featured.
Id say drive on, he said to the driver. I have to hand the package directly to the receiver, and it may take a while. Heck, I hope to have a look around while Im here.
And learn more about the pack, was what he didnt say. Pack life intrigued him. Hed not grown up as part of a pack, and the allure of a tightly knit group of werewolves living together as family was irresistible to his wondering heart.
Enjoy the weather, monsieur.
Tryst stepped out of the limo and tugged the small titanium case, handcuffed to his wrist, along with him. Thanks, man, he said. Be careful on that hairpin turn going out. That was a doozy in this long car.
The driver nodded and drove off.
The wind blew Trysts scatter of hair across his face. Brushing it away, he trudged over the packed, icy snow that glossed the courtyard before the massive castle, eager to see the inside of this fascinating place.
Wulfsiege. He loved the name. It conjured images of medieval werewolf warriors defending their homes and family against ancient marauders.
His father had been born in the eighteenth century, but hed never regaled Tryst with tales of his past. Tryst figured his dad hadnt seen armored combat, though the man had certainly experienced defiance and struggle thanks to his mixed heritage of werewolf and vampire.
He paused, inhaling a breath of courage. Yes, it was required. For the haunting taunts of outsider lived in his brain. A slur used too often against him when he was younger and even, on occasion, now. Could he do this?
Of course I can, he whispered. But a defensive clench of his fist was unavoidable. He never let down his guard.
A weird rumble, almost like thunder, alerted him. He cast a glance to the strange white sky that looked solid, as if he could take a bite out of it. Couldnt be. Not in February.
Instinct prickled the hairs along his arms under the layers of sweater and ski coat Tryst wore. He cast a glance along the sharp wall of snow not five hundred yards from the castle grounds. Tryst tilted his head, wondering what he was looking for and sensing he should see it. But he did not, so he brushed it off as nerves. Never before had he entered a pack compoundor castleand he wasnt certain how theyd accept this outsider.
Once through the doors, the castle opened to a vast space that resembled more a streamlined airport lobby than a medieval stronghold. While the interior limestone walls had been retained, the three-story space was all glass, steel railings, and an escalator even glided up to the second level. Not very sporting for a werewolf to take an escalator, he mused.
Tryst exhaled. So far, so good.
To his left, a wall of windows looked over an open-air stadium that featured bleacher seating set up against the castle exterior, and looked out over a snowy field marked with flags and a judges stand. A person didnt need a seat in the open-air stadium to get a good view of the action; they could stand and look out the window.
Damn, he wished this had been the competition year.
A pair of males wandered near the glass wall, heading toward the hallway that led north and he knew by their familiar scent they were wolves. They lifted their heads, sensing him, and eyed him curiously.
Here it comes.
Tryst gave a friendly wave but lowered his eyes. His father had told him a little about pack hierarchy, and it wasnt wise for an unaligned wolf to hold eye contact with a pack wolf unless he wanted to eat his own teeth for breakfast. Hell, Tryst hadnt needed a coaching session to know that one was truth. Some things he just needed to learn through experience, and he had a wealth of experience under his belt.
The wolves approached him, bruisers with wide shoulders and hands clenched in fists. Heads lifted as they looked him over, their sweaters stretched across ample delts and biceps. While Tryst was tall and broad, and had a tendency to always be the largest man in the room, he judged the two to be close in size to him.
He offered his hand to shake but they stared at it. Trystan Hawkes, he said. With a special delivery for the principal.
They exchanged looks and one asked, What pack are you with?
Paris, Tryst answered easily. He didnt say pack because he wasnt going to lie. He waited to see how long it would take before they figured out he was not official.
Paris pussies, one of them muttered, and smirked.
Wait here, the other said. Well get Rick.
They strode off, keeping a keen eye over their shoulders as they did so.
The adrenaline racing through Trysts body crashed and he exhaled, his tight muscles relaxing. Hed passed that test.
All werewolves here, he muttered after the wolves must have decided he wasnt a threat, and assumed their path north. Hed never been around many of his kind in any particular instance.
Admittedly, hed led a sheltered life. Growing up in Paris, and homeschooled by one of his fathers good friends, Tryst hadnt begun to associate with other werewolves until his teen years when hed go out at night in search of them. Learning the ways of packs had been an eye-opener, sometimes an eye bruiser. Though he had never been part of a pack, he was considered an omega wolf, like it or not. And most pack wolves did not like him because he was the son of a half-breed vampire/werewolf. Son of a longtooth was his least favorite slang term used against him. Outsider, being the most bruising and mentally damaging. But hed stood his ground against the pack wolves and had managed to gain their friendship, if not a leery trust. From a few, at the least.
The lure of pack life stirred his wanting heart now. It wasnt that hed not felt loved growing uphe hadbut what he really wanted was to fit in, to be with his own breed and to know that kind of family. Hed missed something by growing up with vampires.
Monsieur? Can I help you?
As a suited young man who smelled like wolf, but who looked like GQ, approached him, Tryst explained, Im the courier from Hawkes Associates to see Principal Connor. His gaze darted quickly from the mans narrow shoulders to his polished leather shoes. Are you Rick?
Yes. The man checked the iPad he held nestled against his forearm and then nodded. Thats Lexis arrangement. Wait here. Ill get someone who can help you.
No problem. Tryst saluted the man, who hurried off. Real tight operation theyve got around here. And not as imposing as hed expected.
He started toward the north hall, the chain from his wrist to his case shushing across the titanium shell. He sensed a cafeteria close by for he smelled roasted meat. The crackers and peanuts on the airplane hadnt done much for his aggressive hunger. Hell, he was a big man; he needed fuel. All the time.
Hawkes Associates? a woman called after him.
Tryst swung around and sighted in a gorgeous, petite bit of darkness and light. Heeled white leather boots that rode to her thighs clicked on the stone floor as she strode purposefully toward him. A long white winter coat, pristine as fresh powder, swayed out about her knees. Her slicked-back black hair contrasted sharply with the coat, and the black, wraparound sunglasses flashed blue chromic lenses. She worked the winter Matrix look nicely.
Stopping before him, she hooked a white-gloved hand at her hip, which revealed she wore all white leather clothing underneath. The pose also exposed the white grip of a pistol she sported at her hip, but Tryst immediately knew it was a flare gun because he always packed one on any skiing venture.
Interesting. Matrix chick was sexy and deadly, in a safety kind of way. He nodded appreciatively. And a wolf, to boot? He could smell her wild pheromones enhanced with a burst of citrus, and his wolf howled inside at the prospect of standing so close to a gorgeous female of his breed.
Female wolves were not so rare in Europe as they were in America, but their packs and families protected them as if gold, and were very choosy about whom they were allowed to interact with and marry. Or so Trysts dad had told him. Hed met a female wolf in a nightclub once, and indeed, members of her pack had carefully watched her every move. He hadnt been able to say more than Hey, baby when a bruiser had forced him to the opposite side of the dance floor where the vampires lurked. Hed challenged the guy to a fight, as his pride had demanded, and had limped for days after. Still, hed counted himself a winner simply for surviving the beating.