Of Gods and Wolves: Death's Captive by G.K. DeRosa

Author:G.K. DeRosa [DeRosa, G.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mystic Rose Press
Published: 2022-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Red-hot fury rushes my veins as I circle the living room for the umpteenth time. We were so close… I could feel her desire, her longing, as clearly as my own as I kissed her, as I held her against me. Why had I ruined everything? And who in all the realms was Attie?

My thoughts flicker back to my time in the human world. There had been a few females, but no one of consequence and certainly no one by the name of Attie. My heart shudders at the name. Much like when it escaped my lips earlier.

What is happening to me? I rake my hands over my face and exhale sharply. Trudging to the bedroom, I peer around the corner. The bathroom door is still locked. I creep closer and crouch so that the peephole is at eyelevel.

Astra is huddled beneath a towel on the tile floor. Stubborn female. My fingers ache to touch her. It would be nothing for me to take down this door and drag her into bed. But she’s not the only stubborn one.

Instead, I whirl on my heel and march to the entrance. I’d been so consumed with anger I’d forgotten to check on the witch’s spell. Twisting the handle, I jerk the front door open. Flickering streetlamps dot the quiet avenue as darkness prevails. A cool, dewy breeze washes over me, extinguishing the fire in my veins. I reach my hand through the opening like I’ve done so many times before, but tonight, I meet no resistance.

Excitement balloons in my chest as I take a step outside for the first time in over a week. The chilly night air blankets my skin, and I draw in a deep breath. The storm has cleansed the earth, and everything smells fresh and new. My wolf stirs, awakened by the notion of freedom. For days, I’ve kept him locked inside a skeletal prison. He longs to run, to be free.

I glance over my shoulder at the quiet bedroom one more time before I make my decision. Just a quick run. I’ll return before Astra wakes.

I’m in lupine form before I reach the end of the cobblestone walkway. My wolf tips his head back and lets out a howl. The need to run, to hunt, to be free is unstoppable. As I lower my head, I catch a familiar scent on the wind.

The witch. The woman who trapped us. Given my foul mood, only the gods can help her now. My nostrils flare, and I race toward the unmistakable scent.

Revenge will be sweet.

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