Once Upon a Wolf
By Rhys Ford
Gibson Keller’s days are fairly routine: wake up early, get some work done, drink lots of coffee, and take care of Ellis, his older brother, stuck in wolf form after coming home from the war. It’s a simple life made up of long runs on two legs—or four—and quiet evenings…. Until Ellis chases a handsome man off a cliff and into the frozen waters beside their cabin, changing Gibson’s life forever.
For Zach Thomas, buying an old B&B is a new start. Leaving behind his city life, he longs to find peace and quiet, and hiking the trails behind his property seems safe enough—right up to the moment an enormous black wolf chases him into a lake, nearly drowning him. Discovering werewolves are real astounds him, but not as much as the man who rescues him from the icy water, then walks into Zach’s heart as if he owns it.
Loving a werewolf—loving Gibson with all his secrets—has its challenges, but Zach believes their love is worth fighting for, especially since his heart knows the big bad wolf is really a prince in disguise.
To Mel Brooks, Gene Wilder, Marty Feldman, Teri Garr, Cloris Leachman, Peter Boyle, and the incomparable Madeline Kahn. Thanks for all the laughs and the damned Pavlovian response my brain pipes up with every time I hear the word werewolf.
This is also dedicated to Andrea Canada, who has always challenged me to write a shifter story, and Michelle Mary Taylor, who digs through my words looking for whatever gold she might find. Here you go. Here’s your wolves.
Acknowledgments
TO THE glorious Five—Jenn, Lea, Penn, and Tamm. Because we have the best hair colors and, well, most of us agree ketchup is not a good substitute for diced tomatoes.
And so much love to my other sisters who make me laugh, shake my head, and chuckle—Ree, Lisa Ren, and Mary.
Thanks will always go to Dreamspinner—Elizabeth, Lynn, Grace and her team, Naomi, and everyone else who works hard to present the world our best.
And a huge shout-out to all of the things that go bump in the night, you’re all adorable. Be sure to turn off the lights when you go back to hiding under the bed.
One
HIS LIFE wasn’t supposed to end like this.
Not now. Not like this. Not when he’d just snatched it back from the doldrums.
Not when he’d just shocked himself back to life.
The winter air clutched at Zach’s lungs, plunging its icy fingers down his parched, tight throat to hook its claws into his heaving chest. His breath came out in short bursts, misty clouds of panic and fear hitting the frosty air. The green dank scent of the lake seeped into the hills near Big Bear, something Zach thought he would eventually get used to, but with the enormous shadow hunting him through the tightly packed trees, it didn’t seem likely now. There was no safety. He had no idea where he was. Plunging through the thick snow seemed like a lark a mere half an hour ago, a new experience for a city-born-and-bred boy.
The light shifted in quickly, and his walk turned deadly. In an instant, the shadows turned blue and the pale-barked trees became stygian harbingers, the ice-gilded canopy darkening when the sun disappeared from the sky, drenching him in a muddy gray light. He’d heard a clap of thunder, a rolling pound of bone-shaking rattles striking the surrounding mountains, and he’d turned back from his ramble only to discover the path he’d taken—a clearly defined cut-through on his newly purchased property—had disappeared as neatly as the trail of crumbs left by fairy-tale children.
A bit of wind carried a tickle of uneasiness, primordial whispers ghosting over Zach’s spine and grabbing at the base of his neck. He’d dismissed the rumbling growl as soon as he’d heard it, shoving it past the realm of what-ifs into the more probable echo of a thunder roll in the far-off distance.
That’s when he saw the large silhouette of a wolf behind a stand of trees. Or at least he thought it was a wolf. Growing up in Marin County didn’t give him a lot of experience, but really, what else could it be? Even with the creature’s features were lost in the darkness, its yellow eyes were fiery bursts of rage glowing through the shadows. It was enormous—far larger than he imagined a wolf could ever get—and its silent vigilance on the rise above him grabbed every thread of terror in him, corroding his reason. He’d known better. Or least he should’ve known better, but his feet and his brain had their own conversation, one he was not a part of.
There was something sharply bitter about fear. How it spread through a man’s mind, an oily coat drowning out all thought. He couldn’t breathe before he took the first step away from the shadow lurking over him, and by the time he found himself in a full sprint, Zach knew he’d already signed his death warrant. The crunch of leaves and twigs behind him was barely audible beneath his own agonized, tortured breaths, but it was loud enough for Zach to know the wolf was in pursuit.
The animal should have caught him by now. He’d been at a hard run for about five minutes, or least that’s how long it felt. Time slipped away from him all too often. Recovering from the accident blurred his life into a series of paper cups of medication, excruciating tests, and long empty bouts of weeping he never seemed able to control. The doctors all told him it was normal to find himself sitting up in the hospital bed, tightened with pain and fighting waves of emotion he couldn’t control. The months of physical therapy brought him back up to the fitness he’d enjoyed before the stolen armored truck slammed into his Audi and his world was filled with flashing lights and screaming sirens, but the tiny Swedish woman who’d struggled with him to re-achieve his mobility could never have imagined he’d run into a mountain of fur and teeth.
Some part of his brain still tried to work out how large the creature was. It was odd how the mind worked when all thought should have been on how to avoid death. A blanket of pine needles proved to be his downfall. His right foot hit the slippery mass, a silken tug on his balance. The downhill slope only hastened his fall. Zach was on his ass before he could blink, tumbling down the rock-strewn hill.
Trees rushed past him, hard lines against the softer weald, and what little reason he had left told Zach to grab anything he could. His hands closed in on a large log resting against a boulder, but the fallen branch wasn’t anchored to anything and it crumbled in his grasp, the debris slapping at his face. He choked on the spray of dust and leaves, careening out of control.