Werewolf Defender by Marisa Chenery

Author:Marisa Chenery [Chenery, Marisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Published: 2016-03-15T16:00:00+00:00

* * * *

It was pretty late at night by the time Calan arrived at his cabin. After patrolling the field and doing target practice with Jerrica, he’d spent the evening with her and her family. Her mother had invited him to stay for dinner again. Since it was likely he’d be eating there a lot, he’d made a mental note to do some hunting of a different variety. While beyond the walls, he’d try to bring down a deer. Tonight he hadn’t had much luck in finding either kind of prey. No zombies wasn’t a bad thing, though.

Calan stifled a yawn with his hand. The late nights and early mornings were starting to catch up with him, but he didn’t mind. At least the four hours of sleep he managed to get were solid and restful.

He yawned again, then shifted to his wolf form. He padded to the poor excuse for a bed. There were still no sheets on it, not that he cared. Since he couldn’t sleep as a human anyway, it really just didn’t matter.

Calan jumped up onto the old mattress and lay down. He put his lupine head on his outstretched front paws, then closed his eyes. It didn’t take very long for him to slip into a deep slumber.

He was in wolf form, running through the tall trees of an ancient forest. He wasn’t hunting zombies. He was just enjoying the freedom of the run.

The chanting started the same as when the spirits in the cave had turned him into the Werewolf Defender. Calan hadn’t heard it since that time. He stopped running, and the landscape changed around him. The trees disappeared and were replaced by a land of mist. Four figures stepped out of it and approached him where he stood. He shifted to human form.

The men were Native American. Each one wore traditional buckskin pants and moccasins. Their bared, tanned chests had symbols painted on them in red and black. They all had feathers in their long black hair, which was loose around their broad shoulders. They were young in appearance, with the build of a warrior. Deep inside, Calan knew these were the spirits who’d chosen him to be what he was today.

“Calan,” one of them said as he stepped closer. “We’ve been watching you and are proud of what you have done.” Though he spoke perfect English, his voice carried the accent of his first language.

“I’ve tried to use the gifts you gave me to protect those I can.”

“We knew you would. That’s why we chose you all those years ago. Your heart was pure. You wouldn’t turn your back on those who needed your help.”

“Will the war against the zombies ever end?”

“That we don’t know. What we do know is that without you, mankind would have perished long ago. Only you have kept the undead’s numbers in check. You are as much a warrior as we were when we walked the Earth as men. And as shamans as well, we

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