Defying Destiny

Defying

DESTINY

OLIVIA DOWNING

Copyright © 2012 Olivia Downing

Cover art by Olivia Downing

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1463764537

ISBN-13: 978-1463764531

Breath pluming, exposed flesh stinging

in the biting wind, the lone figure turned

up the thick, fur collar of her cloak and

continued through the sleeping village.

Maralee’s boots crunched through the

snow’s icy crust as she patrolled the

deserted roads. The leather gauntlets on

her lower arms protected her from Wolf

bites, but not frostbite. She flexed her

hands to maintain dexterity and blew a

warm breath on her stiff fingers, before

returning her hand to the familiar hilt of

the sword at her hip.

The night was uncommonly quiet, even

for the dead of winter. Wild creatures

dared not venture out on a crisp, clear

night such as this, when the moon was full.

Soon the Wolves would invade the

village, leaving behind a wide swath of

human decimation. Something about the

orb of glowing light ignited a blood lust in

the creatures. The packs partook in a

frenzied feast of human flesh once every

twenty-eight days and so the lady hunter

watched, and waited, and kept her sword

at ready.

Maralee did not know the people of this

village; had never laid eyes on any except

the innkeeper. She had arrived in

Sarbough by hired sleigh only hours

before, having traveled from the distant

village of Relwood. She was not aware if

the people of this village were of strong

character or weak, but this did not matter.

A person was a person no matter their

qualities and a Wolf was, at its very core,

a monster.

A faint crunch gave Maralee pause. She

listened intently, but heard only her own

ragged breaths. A strong presence lurked

behind her and instinct was a trusted ally.

She spun around, drawing her sword in

one fluid motion. Holding the long, sliver

blade before her in both hands at her

waist, she scanned the lane, finding

nothing there but crisscrossing sleigh

tracks and footprints in the snow.

“A dangerous night for a stroll, little

miss,” a deep voice reverberated from the

shadows.

Maralee pivoted in the direction of the

voice, her heart hammering. The man

pushed away from a wall and stepped into

the wide lane. He was tall with midnight

black hair except for a white lock that

draped over his left eye. His long coat

accentuated the broad cut of his shoulders

and chest. With the moon to his back,

Maralee could not make out his features,

but something about him made the hairs on

the back of her neck stand on end. She

took a step backwards despite herself. She

faced packs of vicious Wolves fearlessly,

but human villains were a different matter.

His hand disappeared into a pocket and

Maralee lifted her sword, shifting from

defense to offense.

“I warn you, sir,” she said, her lilting

accent identifying her as native to northern

Dubwar. “I know how to use this.”

“I never doubted it.”

Was he mocking her?

The man drew his hand from his pocket

and brought something to his mouth. A

flame lit his features and Maralee found

him young despite the lock of white in his

untamed, collar-length hair. The flame

died and the tip of his cigarette glowed

red in the darkness as he inhaled deeply.

“Smoke?” he offered, reaching into his

pocket again.

“I do not partake in sinful pleasures.”

He made a sound of amusement and

drew the cigarette away from his mouth.

“Pity.” He took another drag before

tossing the cigarette into a snow bank. It

extinguished with a small hiss. “I don’t

recall seeing you around here before. Do

you have a place to stay?”

“I have a room at Smithy’s inn,” she

blurted, then bit her lip, too late to catch

her slip.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said, taking a

step closer. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Because I didn’t offer it.” She returned

her sword to its sheath with a faint

scraping sound. She wasn’t prepared to

bring harm to a human anyway—she

exterminated vermin, not people. “If

you’ll excuse me.”

She turned to continue her patrol, trying

to convince him, if not herself, that she

found his presence trifling.

The persistent man fell into step with

her. She paused once more, looking up

into his eyes for signs of misdeeds. His

eyes, a pale shade of brown—
amber
—

had an unsettling, feral quality. Catching

the moonlight, they almost glowed, like an

animal’s. He smiled at her crookedly, and

her heart gave an unexpected lurch. She

became conscious of his height, which

must have been several inches over six

feet, as she did not reach his shoulder. The

aroma of tobacco and oiled leather, along

with the earthy scent of his body,

surrounded her. Was it possible for

someone to smell dangerous? Her

thudding heart believed so.

“If you insist on taking a midnight stroll

on the night of the full moon, then I insist

on escorting you,” he said.

“I have neither need, nor want of an

escort, sir.” She picked up her pace again.

“I’m Nash.” His hand touched the small

of her back to direct her around a deep rut

in the lane.

At his light touch, her heart faltered and

began to race. She glanced up at him

again, puzzled by this unwarranted

reaction. He graced her with another

mischievous smile. A blush crept up her

throat and spread over her face like fire.

She ducked her head and rushed forward,

moving beyond his bewildering touch.

“You are a particularly obstinate

female.” He easily caught up with her

again, as his stride was longer than hers.

She stopped abruptly and glared up at

him. How dare he insult her!

“Will you just leave me be?” she said.

“Once I have returned you safely to

your lodging.”

Maralee growled in frustration. “See

here, you—”

“Nash.”

Her eyes narrowed. “See here, Nash,”

she said. “I am not the damsel in distress

you take me for. I came to this village for

a reason and nothing you say or do will

dissuade me from my purpose. I am well

aware of the dangers that befall villages

on the night of the full moon. I am a Wolf

Huntress by trade and you needn’t concern

yourself with my welfare.”

This seemed to ruffle his calm. “Wolf

Huntress? You kill Wolves?”

“Yes. I have come to protect this

village from an unusually large pack and

my job would be a lot easier if you would

just go away. I require strict concentration

and do not wish to be responsible for your

safety during the slaughter.”

He took her by the arm, his touch no

longer gentle, but punishing. He turned her

in the direction of the inn and forced her to

move forward.

“Let go!” she demanded.

She pulled on her arm and tried to plant

her boots in the crusted snow, but he

dragged her along as if she were a

ragdoll.

“You’ll not be killing any Wolves

tonight, Nameless Lady. It is
my
duty to

protect this village.” He didn’t even slow

as she continued to struggle against him.

So this was the reason he persistently

tried to ensure her safety? She infringed

upon

his

territory?

The

village

undoubtedly paid him handsomely to keep

the Wolves at bay. She knew from

experience a single Wolf carcass of a

particular species returned a hefty bounty.

His reasons did not excuse his bullying

however. Maralee refused to submit to his

tyranny.

“I said let me go!”

A long howl in the distance drew a gasp

from Nash. He paused and listened to the

answering howl seconds later.

“They’re coming,” he said, his grip

loosening.

In his distraction, Maralee managed to

pull free of his grasp. She dashed forward

in the direction the Wolves’ calls without

a backward glance. She drew her sword

as she ran, her cloak flapping like an

ominous, black bat.

At the edge of town, Maralee halted

between two wooden houses, readying her

sword, listening, watching for any signs of

motion. The Wolf pack emerged from

between the trees at the end of the lane,

their shining eyes glazed with madness in

the light of the full moon. There were at

least thirty of them—the largest pack

Maralee had encountered. These weren’t

typical wolves. They were nearly twice as

large and much heavier, with a keen

intelligence Maralee knew was their most

dangerous asset.

When the Wolves caught scent of her,

they stopped their progression, wicked

teeth bared, hackles raised. Growling and

snarling, the lead Wolf charged forward.

All four paws lifted from the ground as he

leapt for Maralee’s throat. She slashed the

beast across its middle with her solid

silver blade. It dropped to the ground,

instantly dead. More Wolves charged.

Maralee lifted her sword, preparing for

the onslaught of what promised to be a

difficult battle.

An arm grabbed her from behind and

dragged her across the road. Her assailant

shoved her into a shed and barred the

double doors from the outside.

“Hey!” she cried, banging on the door

with the palm of her free hand. “Let me

out of here! I demand to be set free this

instant!”

A snarl on the other side of the door

answered her plea for freedom. Persistent

claws scratched the door. A sniffing snout

pressed against the crack at the base of the

door. Maralee stabbed in that direction,

but found no mark. The bar holding the

door closed rattled. Soon, they would get

into the shed. Little things like doors never

stopped them. Maralee took a step

backwards and held her sword at ready.

At least, they could not sneak up behind

her while she was inside.

A long, loud howl sent a shiver down

her spine. Holding her breath, she

lowered her weapon and pressed her ear