Redemption of a Wolf (Red Dead Mayhem Book 4) by T. S. Joyce

Author:T. S. Joyce [Joyce, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wicked Willow Press
Published: 2018-08-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The sound of the saw drowned out Kade’s snarling. That’s why he had been drawn to tools in the first place. Loud noises made him feel almost normal. He could work alone and pretend his wolf wasn’t a raving lunatic, growling at a saw just because it existed. He didn’t wear earplugs when he worked. He wanted to hear the sound of metal sawing through wood. It was his only therapy. It used to be the only part of his life he had any control over because, when he was in the shop, restoring something or building it from nothing, he felt the most at peace a monster could feel.

Or that’s the way it used to be before Trina. Now she was his therapy. She had been for weeks. She was his motivation, his peace. But working wood helped in the hours between seeing her. And this work was an income. There was now a drive inside him to take care of Trina. Oh, that lion never asked since she was independent as fuck, but if she ever slipped, he wanted to be there to prop her up. And that meant saving. It meant putting money away for help if the bar ever went into a dip, money for presents…money for a ring someday because, hell yeah, he was reaching for the damn stars at this point. He would one-hundred percent go crazy or die before he went shopping for diamonds, but it was still fun to think about, still a goal he wished he could achieve, still a gift he would give his bones to be able to give her someday. Trina deserved everything.

He had three orders for matching chair sets sitting in his email right now but was falling behind thanks to the damn wolf. He took the body for too long. Every time Kade woke up, he’d lost days. He’d lost time. He’d lost life. Too much of his time was spent as a wolf. Which sucked for lots of reasons, but most of all he missed Trina. And he missed his shop.

He loved the way it smelled in here. Like sawdust and oil and metal and smoke, paint and wood stain... And one familiar wolf.

Kade turned on his stool. Behind him, Mick, the Second in the Wulfe Clan, was standing in the doorway, blond hair mussed, a motorcycle helmet dangling from his hand, and a dead-eyed stare directed right at Kade. Kade flipped the switch on the saw mid-cut and sniffed the air. There was something else on the breeze, just below the scent of dominant werewolf. It was sickness. Mick was sick. His wolf was unsteady, and the man’s eyes were changing from brown to green and back again. Kade knew all about crazy wolves.

“You’re pretty fuckin’ brave to stare down a beast with a taste for blood as big as mine. Dumb as a post to come into my territory, too.” He pulled off his gloves and tossed his baseball hat onto an old wooden chair in the corner.

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