Orphan Wolf (Wolves of Wisconsin Book 3) by Marie Fraser

Author:Marie Fraser [Fraser, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-08T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The night around him was still. The cold air silent, save the hissing sound of his body as it whizzed through the grass, talons digging the earth, stormy gray eyes fixed ahead. The darkness was welcoming. The delicious smell stirring amidst it, all too familiar. And with every swift step, Noah felt it getting stronger, sensed the long-lost malice in it sting through his very bones, awakening all desires.

A small, rickety pub loomed into view. Pale yellow light leaked through the tiny windows, the frail, humanly voices laughing within, burning with life. At the very sight of it, Noah dragged in a slow breath. He leaned his head back, letting his gaze escape to the wan moon staring curiously overhead. A peculiar energy rushed through his eyes, the silvery moonlight coursing through every limb, blessing a dark power. His body sagged under the weight of it, his rust-red lips curving into a cunning smile.

Before heading directly to the pub, Noah halted at the thick dark hedges nearby. Sliding his backpack (which bore his normal clothes) off his hairy body, he willed back into his human form. The point-sharp claws dug back into his fingers, the hair disappearing under his skin, and eyes turning their usual brilliant blue. Noah pulled at his trousers, and threw a leather jacket around his torso. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he felt his fingers curl around the orphan wolf’s collar. Instinctively, he took it out and examined it under the pale light. A cold tremor rippled through Noah’s body, and he shivered.

He could bet a million dollars that it was Sophia’s choker. Her favorite one. The one she wore every day he spent with her; every day they ambled through Vilas’s busy streets; every time they walked the beautiful beaches, legs kissing the soft bed; the rough faces of the shells tickling their feet, as they watched the orange ball splashing crimson rues over the once-blue waters.

It was such a long time ago. But even now, the memory of her face, those delicate features and humble smile sent a chill down his spine. Noah couldn’t exactly remember when they had fallen apart. The love that he had so carefully nurtured reduce to plain, dust-like ashes. All he could recall was a bright summer afternoon. Sophie’s small cozy cottage. Noah eavesdropping on her parents’ conversation with her. Her disclosure of his true identity to them. The sharp sound of a slap splitting the air. Sophie stumbling out, tears chasing down her cheeks, telling him to go away. And never come back.

It was absurd. And Noah couldn’t get his answers to the whys and hows, for Sophie simply hid herself within the crowd. Turned a deaf ear to his incessant letters. Twisting her head every time they locked gazes at the streets, swiftly scuttling away. It had taken months, but the harsh realization finally sank in.

And then he met Emma.

And Noah was suddenly reminded of all the things he couldn’t have with Sophie. All the things she wasn’t, but Emma was.

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