Savage
Contents
The Werewolves of Wolf Springs: Our Laws
Also by Nancy Holder & Debbie Viguié
A
BOUT THE
B
OOK
Who do you run to?
Out in the forest, tensions are blazing like forest fire. The ancient rivalry between the Fenner and Gaudin packs has reached fever pitch, and only a battle will quell the blood lust.
Katelyn is caught in the middle, her pack loyalties tested like never before. The person she needs the most – strong, sexy, loyal Trick – has no idea about her dark secrets. And while werewolf wars are raging, the Hellhound is still out there, stalking her every move.
It’s time to take control. It’s time to get savage.
Who do you run to?
“I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course.”
K
ING
L
EAR
, 3.7.55
To my number one pack mate, Debbie Viguié. We hunted down another book! Thank you so much for the great run.
—Nancy
Nancy Holder, a dear friend and fantastic co-author. I’d run with you any day.
—Debbie
The Werewolves of Wolf Springs
Our Laws
We are the descendants of Fenris, Wolf-God. He gave us this creed to keep our pack strong and free. Follow it, or die for the good of the pack.
Loyalty is the highest virtue.
Stay in your place until you have another.
Obey the Four Commandments:
Never hunt humans.
Never hunt alone.
Never tell anyone about the existence of werewolves; it is a secret that must be kept.
Always obey your alpha, and be submissive to higher-ranking wolves, male and female, within your pack.
And if you misbehave, beware . . . the Hellhound will hunt you down!
1
THE HELLHOUND. THE
stuff of nightmares, a rampaging destroyer. It was real. It was here. And it was going to tear Katelyn McBride to pieces, unless the flames got to both of them first.
The Bayou des Loupes — territory of the Gaudin werewolf pack — was a blazing inferno; against a wall of fire, the enormous monster shot to its full height, towering over Katelyn in orange and scarlet flashes of fangs and claws. Smoke poured from its glowing red eyes as she staggered backwards in shock. Terror paralyzed her for one heart-stopping moment.
She screamed as it leaped forward. Instinctively she tucked herself into a ball and rolled to the side. It landed beside her with a huge thump that made her teeth rattle. She tumbled into the underbrush and dug her heels into the earth to push herself up through the lacework of branches. Twigs and rough bark tore at her skin and ripped at the ends of her blonde hair. The bushes swayed as the Hellhound charged again. She fought down panic and stretched her arms high over her head, trying to grab a vine or a branch. Anything.
The Hellhound didn’t utter a sound; its silence was one of its weapons. The closer it got to you, the less noise it made. Its hot, moist breath sprayed against the back of her neck and she poured on more speed. Her fingertips grazed the scratchy bulk of a piece of Spanish moss. She grabbed it with one hand, then bounced on the balls of her feet and clutched at it with the other. Years of gymnastics paid off as she vaulted herself up and yanked her knees above her waist, fighting to put as much space between the Hellhound and herself as she possibly could.
Its breath grazed the small of her back. She grunted and swung her legs down and backwards, smacking it in the face with her boots. Her heels hit something hard.
Teeth!
Denying the reflex to pull away, she kicked as fast and as violently as she could.
She had feared it for so long. It had whispered to her in the forest, stalked her in nightmares. It was real. It was here.
And it wanted to kill her.
“No!” she yelled. “I didn’t do anything! I don’t deserve this! Go away!”
The clump of Spanish moss jerked hard and she dropped down a couple of feet. She flailed wildly and let go, falling back down hard into the bracken. Then she took a breath and braced herself for the pain of being ripped to shreds—
—but the bushes quivered in a path moving
away
from her. The Hellhound was leaving.
Trees exploded like bombs on either side as she got to her feet and began to run. She was barely outpacing the flames. The Louisiana oak forest glowed with bursts of white and orange as her werewolf senses shot into overdrive and she saw through the eyes of her inner wolf. Her all-too-human feet stumbled over smoking roots and dodged fiery branches as they slammed against the ground, sending up showers of sparks. Every rapid pant out of her searing lungs was a word:
Escape, escape
.
She had fought in a war today, and her side had lost. The treacherous Gaudin werewolf pack had dumped silver, fatal to all werewolves, into the swamp and then set the dry Spanish moss and the cypress trees on fire. The enemies of the Gaudins, the Fenners of Wolf Springs, had howled in agony as silver steam and silver smoke scorched their lungs and destroyed their bodies, and the pack fell one by one.
Katelyn had been forced to join the Fenners in battle or get her throat ripped out. They’d bullied and threatened her, but no more. After months of pack life as the lowest of the low, she had the upper hand.
Katelyn was the only werewolf anywhere she knew of who was immune to silver. The metal in the bayou had done nothing to harm her.
But she was still running for her life, fighting to put as much distance as she could between herself and the Hellhound, and the Fenner survivors who even now were piling into trucks and cars and hitting the road back to their territory in Wolf Springs. They would all be on full alert and looking for her. After she had been attacked and bitten — turned from a normal girl into a werewolf — she’d been viewed as a mistake and a threat to pack security, and she’d feared every day would be her last. But now she had the potential to be the Fenner pack’s secret weapon, and everyone wanted to claim her and her power for their own.
But she wouldn’t be their pawn, or their hostage, or their prisoner. She was done. Finally free — if she could outrun the Hellhound, who should have no reason to hurt her. The Fenners had told her the creature was a myth invented to keep children and the superstitious in line. That it killed werewolves who broke pack laws.
She had broken no laws, but here it was anyway.
“Kat!” a voice cried. It was Cordelia.
“Cordelia, run! The Hellhound is here!” Katelyn yelled at the top of her lungs, and then she heard the roar of a werewolf in wolf form. Loud, fearless, angry.
She whirled around to see a jumble of silhouettes in a moonlit clearing a few yards distant. Facing away from her, the Hellhound loomed at least eight feet over a snarling werewolf crouched in front of it; from behind the werewolf, Cordelia ran toward Katelyn, leaving herself open to attack. Cordelia had something in her hand that was catching on the bushes and branches, slowing her down. The Hellhound swiped its forepaw and the crouching werewolf leaped at the monster. The Hellhound batted the werewolf, sending it flying with a yelp.
“Hurry!” Katelyn yelled at Cordelia, running toward the Hellhound and Cordelia both. Foolhardy, yes, but then Cordelia fell into her arms, safe. Katelyn wheeled her friend behind herself and faced the Hellhound straight on.
“Leave us alone!” Katelyn shouted.
To her amazement, the Hellhound sat back on its haunches, giving her a better look at it — and she wished it hadn’t. None of the drawings she’d seen did justice to how ugly it was. It looked as if it had been stitched together from pieces of dogs, wolves, and hyenas. Its red eyes were slanted, its mouth bristling with fangs. It had a flat snout with flaring nostrils and as it panted, billows of smoky breath made a veil between Katelyn, Cordelia, and it. Coarse hair cascaded down its ropy neck and grew around the base like a stand-up collar. Its front legs were malformed and knobbly, as if the bones themselves were bumpy, and ended in massive curved claws. Rows of drool-coated teeth shone in the moonlight. It cocked its head and watched Katelyn as she planted herself in front of her friend.
“Cordelia, run,” she said quietly.
“Oh, God,” Cordelia whispered. She grabbed Katelyn’s hand and squeezed tight. “Oh, my God.”
The Hellhound kept staring at Katelyn. She scanned her surroundings for an escape route and took a deep breath. The fire was sweeping through the trees mere yards away.
As if oblivious to the imminent danger, the beast growled, low and almost jubilant, as if savoring the kill to come.
Katelyn’s face tingled. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she held her breath as Cordelia squeezed her hand even tighter. The Hellhound was watching her. She was afraid to so much as twitch. Why was it sizing her up? It was bigger than she was. Surely it knew it could take her out in a heartbeat.
“Kat,” Cordelia whispered, and Katelyn shushed her as quietly as she could.
The thing blinked.
And then a light came on in her brain:
What if it’s someone I know?
She licked her lips. “Hello?” she said.
“What are you doing?” Cordelia whispered fiercely, and Kat shushed her again.
Then the Hellhound moved slowly forward, and Katelyn lurched back, stumbling into Cordelia. Cordelia darted from behind Katelyn and stood at her side. The other girl was shaking, but she lifted her chin, staring the creature down. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood, daring the Hellhound to take them on.
This is it
, Katelyn thought.
Then in a flash the Hellhound turned and bounded away and, in near silence, it disappeared into the shadows.
A horrible howl shook the treetops and made Katelyn’s bones vibrate. The two girls stood stock-still for a second, and then Katelyn let out her breath.
“God,” Cordelia said. “I . . . just
God
.” The thing in her hand was a gas mask. “Here, Kat,” she said urgently, raising it over Katelyn’s head. “There’s silver in the air. Jean-Luc dumped it in the swamp—”
Katelyn stopped her. “Keep it,” she said. “You use it.”
“No,” Cordelia argued, and Katelyn grabbed Cordelia’s hand again and started to run. Poisonous smoke drifted across the papery face of the moon as they reached the shelter of a stand of trees and stopped, panting. Katelyn tried to make Cordelia put the mask on. Cordelia shook her head. Then Katelyn froze, remembering the werewolf who had defended Cordelia. He — or she — might still be alive.
“Who attacked the Hellhound for you?” she asked. “We have to find him.”
Cordelia’s blue eyes widened and she gave her head a firm shake.
“He only did it because of the loyalty instinct,” she replied. “He didn’t exactly
want
to save my life. But I’m mated to his alpha.” Seeing that Katelyn still didn’t get it, she added, “So he
had
to try to help me. He couldn’t stop himself.”
Katelyn hadn’t seen anything like that in the Fenner pack, it had been mostly bickering and threatening, with pack members always plotting and casting suspicion on each other to get ahead. Their alpha, Lee Fenner, had been losing his mind, and the entire pack was in disarray. She could almost feel Quentin Lloyd’s warm blood spraying against her face again. Lee Fenner had killed him when the younger werewolf had posed a challenge to his dominance — a death Katelyn had engineered to save her own life. There had been no loyalty instinct there.
