Page 2 of Wolf Bound

Something in my soul cracks at the thought of never seeing him again. I feel connected to him in some strange way like we are a part of each other.

No longer able to help it, I take a deep breath and a step forward. My fingers itch to run through his thick fur and to see those golden eyes for myself. But the second my right foot lifts off the ground, the thick, inky darkness of the night starts to swirl around us. My vision begins to cut in and out, and I feel him slipping away from me.

No!

I bolt upright in bed,almost flying off the side and onto the floor. It takes me a second to remember where I am and what just happened. Never in my life have I dreamt about a wolf. And if I really think about it, I hardly ever dream at all. Or if I do, I forget them the second I open my eyes in the morning.

But sitting here, trying to catch my breath, I can remember every moment of the dream. I remember the feeling of peace and the calmness I found by being in the woods. I remember the way the dirt felt under my bare feet and the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. But mostly, I rememberhim. I remember how beautiful he was and how his coat appeared pitch black except for the bits of white or silver peaking through on his chest. I remember how large he was compared to wolves I’ve seen at the zoo or on the discovery channel.

I remember everything about him and I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

To ensure I never will, I fling myself out of bed and begin to dig through the boxes on my floor. I sigh in relief when I finally open the box containing my sketchbook and pencils.

I practically float across the room to my window seat with images of the wolf swirling around in my head. I focus on the small details of his face as I start to sketch him. My hand moves without much effort, recreating the images in my head with skill and precision.

As I’m adding the finishing touches to his face, I hear it. A howl.

I sit motionless as I listen to the chorus of other wolves, adding their voice to the night sky. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard, and I pray I will hear it again.

I drift off as I stare out my window, willing the wolf to appear. Although deep in my soul, I know I will see the wolf again; he isn’t just a figment of my wild imagination and subconscious; he will somehow soon stand across from me in the clearing.

And I can’t wait.

Ryker

10 Months Later

“He’s heading south!” I hear Sawyer shout through the speaker on my phone, his deep voice breathless as he continues to track the rogue wolf. “You should be able to cut him off at the mountain pass!”

“Got it. Don’t let him out of your sight!” I growl as I quickly correct my direction, turning my truck around. The sound of my tires squealing and engine roaring fills my ears. “I’m tired of this fucker having the upper hand.”

Sawyer and I have been tracking this specific male for the past two weeks all through Alberta, Canada. Every time we come close to catching up with him, he somehow finds a way to evade us.

The thing about rogue males is they are so blinded by the bloodlust they don’t even bother to cover their tracks. But this male has been diligent about staying under the radar. He’s so far under the radar I’m starting to think he has some help.

“I’m heading east, I can help you trap him at the pass!” A female voice comes through the phone. Avery is the occasional third to our group. She was attacked and assaulted by a rogue last year. After Sawyer and I were able to subdue him, she was the one to rip out his throat. She has quickly become quite a fierce warrior.

“Sawyer, you need to shift! There’s no way you’ll be able to stay on his trail in human form!”

A thumping noise comes from the phone, and then it goes dead, meaning Sawyer took Avery’s advice and shifted into his wolf form, dropping his phone somewhere in the Canadian woods.

I push my truck to its limit as it speeds through the back mountain roads. Usually, Sawyer is the one to drive while I track in wolf form. I’m faster and stronger in my wolf form than both Sawyer and Avery, but since he was closest when we caught the scent, he went ahead.

I try to keep my focus on the task at hand, I can’t help but let my mind wander toher.

This week would have been her twenty-first birthday. We should be celebrating. I imagine we would have gone to the local bar and ordered her first legal drink, something fruity with an umbrella. It’s the fourteenth birthday I have mourned her death instead of celebrating her life. And it’s another reminder my mate is dead and I will never celebrate a birthday or holiday with her again.

Fourteen years ago, my mate was killed by a pack of rogue wolves. At the age of thirteen, I never truly comprehended the importance of having a mate or how lucky I was to have found mine so early. I was too young then to understand death. But now I surround myself with it daily. I spend my days hunting and killing rogues, so no one else ever has to know what it’s like to lose their mate at the hands of a rogue wolf.

“Ryker, you still there?” Avery’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts. “I know it’s a rough week for you—”

Before she can finish her sentence, I cut her off with a growl more beast than human. “Stop talking, Avery,” I warn her.

“I’m saying I’m here for you.”

“I know, but I don’t want to talk about it.” She knows I don’t like to drag up memories of Grey and talking about my feelings. What is there really to say? My mate is dead, and someday soon I will turn rogue myself. But until that day happens, I will hunt down every one of these evil bastards as I can. I have nothing to live for anymore, but at least I’m making a difference.

That’s what I like to tell myself anyway.

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