Page 6 of Kidnapped By the Wolf

I don’t do your basic wire-wrap crystal necklaces. I use glass, metal, and clay beads, as well as raw gemstones for the charms. Combining different materials and textures gives each piece a unique and slightly chaotic look. My jewelry is usually a big hit with the eclectic tourist crowd that frequents the art walk.

Glancing up at the golden aspen leaves, I lament that the season is nearly over. Soon Gold Creek will be covered in snow, and the town won’t hold another art walk until it melts in the spring.

Still, the last couple weeks of good weather are usually my most lucrative. People are out doing some early Christmas shopping, and they often buy multiple pieces. Maybe once the art walk shuts down here, I’ll make my way to Lakewood for the holiday bazaar. I’ll only be one jewelry maker in a sea of vendors, but there will also be a lot more shoppers.

Feeling slightly better, I pull out my beat-up Makala ukulele and start strumming the intro to “Somewhere Over theRainbow.” The familiar song calms my frayed nerves, and after only a few bars, the music begins to attract attention.

Slowly, pedestrians amble over to my display, admiring my jewelry as they listen. I pause between songs to ring up my customers, and I sell several necklaces and a couple of bracelets before it starts to rain.

A few cold droplets land on my uke, and a frigid breeze whips down Main. A truck with a trailer pulls into the alley behind me, and the wood carver begins packing up his wares as wind buffets the tents.

Shivering in my thin flannel, I hurriedly start to gather my unsold pieces. I curse as the wind sends my stack of gift bags flying, and I scramble out into the street to save as many as I can.

A soft whirring noise reaches my ears, and I look up to see a drone hovering about ten feet overhead. Then it banks and zips off down Main, and I quickly stuff the soggy gift bags into the beat-up suitcase.

The rain has turned to sleet by the time I’ve finished packing up my things. Tossing my uke strap over one shoulder and covering myself with the blanket, I jog across Main and turn down the side street where I parked my bus.

The wind howls as I reach my parking space, fumbling in my pocket for my key. I manage to get the back hatch open and turn to haul my stuff inside, but then a gloved hand clamps over my mouth, and strong arms haul me back.

I try to scream, but my attacker’s hand dampens the sound. Panic floods my system.

I thrash and kick, but the arms hold me in an iron grip. My first thought is of Dane, but it doesn’t smell like him. The man holding me smells expensive — like Italian leather, bergamot, and musk.

Grunting and flailing, I smash my foot down on his, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.

Terror claws its way up my throat. I don’t think. I just whip my ukulele over my shoulder and ram it into my attacker’s face.

There’s a violentthwang!followed by a grunt, and I get a little kick of satisfaction. I manage to get one more hit in before the instrument is wrenched from my grip and hits the ground with a thud.

I hear a strange noise, like the pop of something plastic. Then I feel the sharp stab of a needle, and everything goes dark.

ADRIAN

I knowsomething’s gone terribly wrong the instant I pull up at my cabin. Sebastian’s Mercedes is parked out front, and the lights are on inside.

Several of my wolves have a key to my place, but it’s only for emergencies. The fact that Sebastian’s here can’t mean good news.

My wolf stirs as I get out and slowly approach the A-frame. He’s alert, cautious, and uneasy. Something about this feels like a trap.

Sebastian must have heard me pull up, because my pack brother slips outside and waits for me with his hands in his pockets. I catch a whiff of his anxiety, and my wolf whines in solidarity.

There’s a deep cut across Sebastian’s cheek and the start of a bruise.

“What happened to you?” I call.

“I met the business end of a ukulele earlier,” Sebastian drawls, not quite meeting my gaze. It’s normal for less dominantwolves to avoid direct eye contact with their alpha, but it’s unusual for Sebastian.

I raise an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna love me for this.”

The hairs along the back of my neck stand on end. “Love you enough to be okay with you making yourself at home?”

The stench of his anxiety intensifies, which makes my wolf sit up and pay attention.

The woods are quiet — too quiet. It’s as if the trees are holding their breath. Underneath Sebastian’s familiar scent and the stink of exhaust, I detect an unfamiliar smell that causes my stomach to tighten.

It’s deep and rich like incense, mixed with the freshness of rain. But there’s something else there too: the sharp tang of fear.

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