Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Before they can find shelter, the dense fog separates Cree and Dawn from his men. Dawn suffers a fall, leaving Cree to desperately search for safety. His search leads them to Clan MacMadadh, the long-thought-extinct Clan of the Wolf.
With the fog refusing to lift and Dawn needing rest, they are forced to stay. As Cree explores the eerie castle, he is warned not to venture into the fog, where wolves prowl dangerously close to the village. The deeper he digs, the more uneasy he becomes, and when he and Dawn discover claw marks embedded in the wooden floors, a terrifying thought takes root—one born of ancient myths… werewolves.
Trapped by the relentless fog and the ever-present howls, Cree faces a dire question… how will they escape and make it home?
Cree will not tolerate being trapped, and he will stop at nothing to protect Dawn—even if it means facing the leader of a wolf pack head-on.
Author Note: Read more about the Clan MacMadadh werewolves in the present day in Sexual Appetites of Werewolves.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Cree saw it creeping toward them, ready to devour every last one of them… a heavy cloud of mist. The forest was slowly growing thick with it, and mist was not to be ignored or dismissed when encountered in the Highlands. Even a light mist could prove dangerous, but a heavy mist could prove deadly. They would be forced to stop and shelter until visibility improved or he would chance losing his troop to it. Then it would take time to find them, delaying their return home.
He should have paid heed when the invitation had arrived and sent his regrets, but it had not been an option. It had been a summons disguised as an invite. An influential noble was hosting a week-long event for a consultant to the King, a Lord Coulston, to meet the most powerful Highlanders in the Highlands, and Cree was considered one of them. He was left no choice but to attend and he was given no choice but to bring Dawn along since wives were expected to attend as well, and no excuse would be accepted.
He worried how his wife might fare since she could not speak, having been born without a voice. There was no rhythm or reason to her affliction, she simply could not speak. She made herself heard easily enough, to those familiar with her, mostly through gestures. Strangers, however, were a different matter and many people could be brutal to those different from themselves. She had done surprisingly well, having gained favor with many of the wives and some of the husbands as well. Though he had made it known upon arrival that he kept a firm eye on his wife in case a husband thought to have a dalliance while there, and who better than with a woman who could not voice her objection. He had wanted to bring Beast, their sizeable hound with them, but Dawn worried his attendance might not be appreciated and that he might not be safe.
After giving it thought, Cree had agreed, and Beast had been left home. He had been leery of the event from the start, and after only one day, he had wondered if the event was nothing more than a ruse for the King’s consultant, Lord Clouston, to gather information on the Highland clans. The other Highland chieftains thought the same themselves but only voiced it among themselves.
Cree kept a steady eye on the mist that continued a slow crawl towards them, almost as if it stalked them, waiting for the right moment to pounce on them. He had seen a rise not far off before the mist swallowed it from his view and he knew that at any time the mist could do the same to them… swallow them whole.
“We stop before the mist completely engulfs us and shelter in place until it dissipates,” Cree called out to his troop of two dozen warriors. “Tether yourselves together in case the mist rushes over us, so we do not get separated. Hand the end of the rope to me when done and listen for my command.”
The warriors hurried to obey, their eyes remaining watchful and concerned about the thickening mist.
Cree kissed his wife’s brow when she tightened her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “You are safe, wife, worry not.”
Dawn nodded, letting him know she did not doubt that. She never doubted his ability to keep her safe. He would do anything to see that no harm came to her. But the heavy mist could prove the worst kind of foe since it was unpredictable.
“I will let nothing happen to you,” Cree said, offering her more reassurance.
He had immediately gone to her when he spotted the mist and lifted her off her horse to settle her in front of him on his stallion. He would take no chance of her disappearing into the mist with no voice to call out to him. While she could make some sort of sound to alert him to her location, sound in the mist could be deceiving and she could be lost to him, alone and vulnerable.
“Once you are off this horse, you will not take a step away from me. You will keep your hand locked in mine. I will not lose you to this blasted mist,” he ordered, the thought of such a possibility irritating him.
Dawn tapped his arm once. Once meant aye and two taps meant nay, a gesture they had decided upon shortly after they met. She pressed herself against him and gripped his waist tight, keeping a firm hold on him.
Her gesture alerted Cree to her concern. She realized just as he had the danger of her being separated from him in the mist. If necessary, she had enough sense to clap hard and continuously if they were separated, but would it be enough for him to locate her, and what if she couldn’t clap? What dangers would she face until he reached her?