The Black Wolf Read online

  He’s a werewolf...

  ...She’s so much more

  Raised in seclusion, Cara Kirk-Killion knows that she will never find the man who haunts her dreams until she ventures out into the world. But it’s Were cop Rafe Laundau’s job to protect this shape-shifter from her own naïveté. Yet he needs her as much as she needs him—to help his pack rid Miami of a vampire horde, and to satisfy a desire he’s never felt before.

  When she stopped, he stopped with her.

  She turned to face him, and his pulse sped up. Moonlight hugged her face, showing Rafe all the details he had been hoping to see. He held his breath.

  She had high cheekbones and a wide brow. Though she was lean, her full lips lent her a softness that was lacking in her attitude. Her neck was long and graceful, her skin a smooth, unblemished ivory. Her large eyes, framed by dark lashes, dominated her other features. They were a bright Lycan green.

  She took a step, bringing her close enough for Rafe to feel her breath on his face. She said suddenly, in a hoarse, velvety whisper, “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  Then she waited in silence as if daring Rafe to find meaning in those words.

  Linda Thomas-Sundstrom writes contemporary and paranormal romance novels for Harlequin. A teacher by day and a writer by night, Linda lives in the West, juggling teaching, writing, family and caring for a big stretch of land. She swears she has a resident muse who sings so loudly, she often wears earplugs in order to get anything else done. But she has big plans to eventually get to all those ideas. Visit Linda at lindathomas-sundstrom.com or on Facebook.

  Books by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  Harlequin Nocturne

  Red Wolf

  Wolf Trap

  Golden Vampire

  Guardian of the Night

  Immortal Obsession

  Wolf Born

  Wolf Hunter

  Seduced by the Moon

  Immortal Redeemed

  Half Wolf

  Angel Unleashed

  Desert Wolf

  Wolf Slayer

  The Black Wolf

  Harlequin Desire

  The Boss’s Mistletoe Maneuvers

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  THE BLACK WOLF

  Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  Dear Reader,

  There are wolves in Miami, Los Angeles, Colorado, South Dakota, France and London...in my Harlequin Nocturne series of stand-alone books about werewolves. I love to tell their stories, because who doesn’t love those hot, sexy beasts when they are all really good guys beneath all that heat?

  My first Wolf Moons book for Nocturne, Red Wolf, (and the Blackout bonus novella) was released way back in 2010 and first introduced a Miami wolf pack that keeps on ticking with characters that have cameos in most of my books since then. I have received quite a few requests for more of these Miami Weres, and love that readers have responded to the characters so openly and let me know it. That kind of feedback is sheer author bliss.

  So here comes my latest wolfish story, The Black Wolf, dedicated to lovers of the supernatural for whom werewolves hold special meaning and who believe the terms hot and sexy, when added to things like suspense and adventure, make for some good full-moon howling. Here, we catch up with the Miami pack and some of the original characters from the first wolf books.

  Thank you for suggesting this.

  I hope you’ll love The Black Wolf as much as I loved writing it. And I hope you will look forward to my next wolfish Nocturne, Code Wolf, coming November 2018.

  Please do check out my website to find all of the books, like Red Wolf, Wolf Trap, Wolf Born, Wolf Hunter, Seduced by the Moon, Half Wolf and Wolf Slayer...and to keep track of what’s coming up next. Connect with me on my Facebook author page. Join my reader team. Or just stop by and say hello. I’d love to hear from you.

  Cheers and happy reading!

  Linda

  To my family, those here and those gone, who always believed I had a story to tell.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Excerpt from Enticing the Dragon by Jane Godman

  Chapter 1

  Hot Miami nights in September were the bane of tourists and locals alike...but they suited Rafe Landau just fine.

  Werewolves seldom reacted to heat the same way humans did. With body temperatures so elevated most of the time, a few degrees one way or the other didn’t matter. And humidity was Rafe’s friend. Sultry nights like this one were perfect for keeping criminals inside in front of their air conditioners. Or so he hoped. A detective’s job didn’t involve much downtime in a city this big. Having a night off from the usual chaos was a blessing.

  Rafe sipped his soft drink on the narrow balcony of his semi-affordable oceanfront apartment, where the crash of waves almost completely masked the more invasive city sounds. Behind him, the blonde he planned to share a couple of hours on a mattress with shuffled toward him on bare feet.

  “Got anything to drink in your bachelor pad besides sodas?”

  Her voice was grittier than her looks. Rafe liked his temporary bed partners natural, without medically enhanced curves, dyed hair or overdone makeup. His preferences could have been a throwback to the times when wolves ran naked in the wild and nature ruled, but the fact was that he liked to see, taste and feel the women he dated with nothing artificial in his way.

  Tonight’s date had already discarded most of her clothes; she was down to flimsy green lingerie that looked good on her. Her shoulder-length hair was tousled, her lips pouty. And her current state of undress made her invitation perfectly clear.

  “Cupboard by the sink,” Rafe said, directing her to the stash of wine people had given him on various occasions, which he never drank. Other than a few swigs of beer on social occasions, the acuteness of his Were sense of taste and smell made alcohol off-limits.

  “Wine?” she called out from the small kitchen, and followed that up with, “Warm wine?”

  “I wasn’t expecting company” was Rafe’s standard reply in situations like this. He liked his women to feel special. This one was extraordinarily beautiful and probably damn good in bed, but she wasn’t the first he had invited home this month.

  He supposed that he had been compensating for the painful memories, finding comfort in random companionship.

  He had started feeling sorry for every woman who had caught h
is eye lately, believing him to be trustworthy because of his detective status and hoping that he might be available. The main thing he needed from a human female partner, however, was something none of them had been able to provide. Not that any of them could help being human. Although he could pass among them most of the time, he wasn’t really like them, and he had a secret to guard.

  The fact that he was one of more than two dozen werewolves in a tightly knit Miami pack wasn’t exactly something he could be open about, and it kept him from any real connection.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Hell, he was fairly sure he remembered this woman’s name. Brenda? Brandi? Something starting with a B.

  Maybe he was wrong about the B. Randi? Candy?

  He might call her again sometime when he was lonely, even though they had nothing in common, really. It was dangerous for Weres to fraternize for too long or become regularly intimate with a species outside their own.

  But available she-wolves were a rarity in Miami and tricky to be around due to that little phenomenon known as imprinting. A lingering meeting of the eyes, Were-to-Were, or one outstanding sexual climax between them, and a werewolf was as good as engaged.

  “Do you want some?” his date asked, clinking glasses on the counter.

  “No,” Rafe said. “You go ahead.”

  A breeze had come off the ocean to ruffle his hair—hair that was too long for a cop and too short for Rafe’s taste. It was a good wind. Felt nice.

  He closed his eyes.

  The scent of lilac perfume preceded his date onto the balcony. “Nice view,” she observed.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m damn lucky to have it.”

  He took in the long lines of towering hotels perched along the beach. Lights glistened on the water. Colorful umbrellas dotted the scene during the day. His place was the only remaining small, privately owned building among those multistoried stucco behemoths. A holdout. His refuge. The manager liked having a cop around.

  “How much is the rent?” his companion asked, making conversation, interrupting Rafe’s communion with the darkness and the breeze. At this point in the evening he should have been paying more attention to the green lingerie, but he frowned.

  Some little thing nagged at his consciousness, served to him on that wind. A new scent arrived that was hard to define with Brandi so close. It wasn’t salty ocean waves or the usual array of smells wafting in from the restaurants down the street. This was something else.

  What?

  Rafe’s pulse accelerated slightly as he caught and held a breath, searching for a way to reconcile the new scent with the sudden burning sensation at the back of his throat. He set down his drink and peered at the ocean, hoping to attach a name to what he couldn’t quite capture, though his unusual talent for identifying and categorizing problems was what had made him the youngest decorated detective in the Miami PD.

  Not perfume, he decided. The incoming scent wasn’t floral. It couldn’t be the warning signal of a wolfed-up Were, since the moon wasn’t full tonight, and anyway, he was intimately familiar with the scents of his kind.

  The way his body had automatically tensed suggested he would have to find a polite way to send the woman beside him on her way and find the source of the mysterious smell that had taken precedence over her lilac perfume. There was the slightest suggestion of danger in the other scent, and his innate sense of justice demanded he focus on tracking it down.

  Mysterious scents were almost never good. More often than not, they were attached to trouble. Still, he actually would be sorry to see Brandi go when the night had been so promising. What male, human or Were, wanted to pass up such an opportunity?

  He just had a bad feeling about what might be out there...and he couldn’t let it go.

  * * *

  Cara Kirk-Killion stared out the window of the black SUV, feeling anxious and trapped. She didn’t often leave her family’s secluded estate. She liked the freedom of open spaces, wind, trees and being alone to commune with those things...and all of that was about to end for a while. The SUV had already entered the city, which meant that she had less than ten minutes of freedom left.

  She hated the promise she had made to her father to behave. It was time, he had said, for her to see more of the world...in moderation, and in carefully controlled circumstances. It wouldn’t do to turn her loose in Miami without strict supervision, she had heard the Elders say, and she understood the need for such precautions. So she was to see more of the world under the protection of one of the largest and strongest werewolf packs in Miami. Her father’s people...though they weren’t really people. They howled each time a full moon came around.

  Every instinct at the moment, however, told Cara to run in the opposite direction. Seeing more of the world wasn’t necessary when deep down inside her so many worlds already existed. She hadn’t actually begun to believe she might be a freak until a week ago, when some Were Elders showed up and the plan to take her away became a reality.

  That’s when the dreams began. And the lectures.

  Cities were dangerous places, her father had warned, which was likely the reason her parents had hidden her and themselves in the country. Cara also got the impression that the Kirk-Killions wouldn’t have fit in anywhere else. Her family was different, and Cara hadn’t needed anyone to point that out.

  Colton Killion’s body was covered with scars that no one ever spoke about, probably because his Were blood should have healed them. Her father’s hair was as white as his skin. He liked to roam in his wolfed-up shape and seldom came into the house. A pure white wolf. Lean. Strong. Fierce. Ghostly.

  Her mother was neither human nor entirely wolf. Though she had been born a pure-blooded Lycan, it turned out that Rosalind Kirk also shared her blood and DNA with other types of beings. Her mother’s hair was sometimes as black as the night and at other times white. Her features had a tendency to rearrange on occasion, and her deceptively delicate body reeked of old power.

  Her mother liked to disappear for hours and shape-shift when the moon was full so that she could run with the white wolf she had lived with for years. The eerie sounds Cara’s mother often made—not howls or growls, but something much more powerful—had echoed through Cara’s mind from the time she was born.

  It hadn’t taken Cara long to realize that she also possessed some of her mother’s special traits, and that the Kirk-Killions might seem scary to the humans beyond their gates. Because of all that, her parents weren’t accompanying her to Miami. There were two strangers in the front seat of the SUV, and they refused to meet her inquisitive gaze.

  Werewolves. Both of them. Half-breeds, in that unlike her, they had been human once. Cara smelled the old bites that had sealed their fates and inducted them into the moon’s cult a long time ago. They’d probably been warned about her being a freak of nature, and it crossed her mind that maybe she should give them a demonstration. Show her fangs. Bring out her wolf. Give them a thrill and make them turn back so that she could again plead her case for staying home.

  She wasn’t actually going to do any of that. At eighteen years old, she was no longer a child. She could remain calm and follow the plan that had been made for her. She would try to behave, if only because her dreams had also pointed her this way...to Miami and what she might find there. Whom she might find there. The male who had been haunting her dreams lately and had contributed to her current state of restlessness. The guy who had destroyed whatever kind of peace she had been able to find with her unusual little family for the past few weeks.

  If she happened to find the guy, she would make him pay for bothering her and piquing her interest. Then she’d go home dream-free.

  The city’s glittering lights surrounded the car, but Cara stared at the back of the seat in front of her. Through the open window she caught a whiff of a salty scent that could only have been the ocean she had heard so much about. It was a lo
vely scent, unique, and served to scramble her sense of duty.

  Suddenly, behaving herself and allowing these guards to take her someplace she didn’t really want to go just didn’t suit her at all.

  So when the car slowed for the next red traffic light, Cara opened the door.

  Chapter 2

  Standing on the sidewalk, Rafe stared at the darkest stretch of beach with his senses wide-open. The wind had changed, taking the mysterious scent with it. He listened to the waves and muted music from one of the hotels. There were no police sirens tonight, and for the moment, no noisy tourists. It was just him and the beach.

  Nevertheless, his pulse continued to race as if he was about to discover something. He hoped whatever that was justified his reluctantly giving Brandi the heave-ho. She hadn’t gone without a pouty fuss.

  Rafe buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his jeans. He scanned the beach, looking pretty much like anyone else who might be out for a nighttime stroll, except for the badge pinned to his belt. He hadn’t taken the time to put on his shoes.

  A half-moon overhead made the wave foam look silver and the sand appear as soft as velvet. Yet all was not so calm beneath the surface. The farther he had walked from those glittering hotel lights, the more his senses nagged about something being different tonight, something he had to pay attention to. If the strange scent had reached him on his balcony, its source couldn’t be far off.

  When his cell phone buzzed with a text message, Rafe cursed the interruption. Still, the number that came up on his screen was an important one. This would have taken precedence over a call from his department anytime. It was his father asking him to come home. Judge Landau seldom made such a request.

  “Okay,” Rafe muttered without immediately texting back. His attention was fixed on the water, where a solitary figure had emerged from the waves.

  A woman.

  She stood near the sand with the water swirling at her feet. He was pretty sure she was naked. Although the idea that occurred to him was insane, Rafe ran a hand over his eyes, imagining that he could be looking at a mermaid.