Scent of Darkness Read Online Free PDF

Something ruined, burned . . . hopeless.
    A curse. Or perhaps a pact with the shadow that lurked right outside the range of Leader's vision . . .
    Today, as Stranger ran, grim and bitter fury ran with him.
    The storm was coming. The storm was here.
    Leader feared it, for this time, the storm wasn't merely lashing wind and cold rain. Leader could feel a fire in the earth, as if a great shift was coming to their land, and everything he knew would soon be blasted and twisted.
    Stranger carried the storm in his fur, in his heart.
    The mark on his leg moved and twisted, and his eyes . . . they glowed in the dim light of the forest.
    That was why Leader failed to notice the scent of a human and take action.
    Then it was too late. The human stepped out from behind his tree and took aim.
    Leader saw him, turned to protect his female— and the killing blast rocked the forest. Pushed by an invisible hand, Leader flipped in the air. He came to his feet at once, prepared to fight. Prepared to run. In pain.
    But Stranger raced toward the human.
    The human pointed his stick.
    Stranger leaped, and as he leaped he changed.
    The fur shrank away from his skin. His body lengthened. His front legs became arms. His face grew horrible. Human.
    A strong gust of wind bent the trees and hit them like a blast.
    The first human screamed. He lifted the stick over his head and, in a panicked movement, lashed out.
    Stranger hit him from the side. The humans rolled in the dirt. The stick flashed and roared. Overhead, branches exploded and chips and needles flew like snowflakes.
    Stranger came to his feet, clutching the stick. He swung it in a circle. Smashed it against a boulder. Rock chips and moss flew. The stick broke in two.
    The first human leaped up and ran.
    Stranger stood still, looked at Leader, and spoke.
    Leader didn't understand human-speak, but he understood this man. He recognized this man—he stood naked, with dark hair on his head, and dark brows, long, dark, curly lashes that framed familiar golden eyes, and a tattoo that rippled down one arm from his shoulder to his wrist that matched the marks on Stranger's fur.
    "Are you all right?" Stranger asked.
    Leader looked down. Blood dripped off his chest. His flesh burned like fire. His alpha female licked it, and Leader knew he would survive.
    He inclined his head.
    "He won't bother you again." The human changed again. More slowly this time, as if the effort cost him. But when he was done, he was a wolf. A wolf wrong. A wolf damned. But a wolf.
    Then he sprinted after the human.
    Leader took his pack deep into the forest, and hid. Hid from the humans, from Stranger, and from the scent he now recognized.
    The scent of damnation.
     
     
    The storm broke.
    How appropriate.
    Ann had broken into Jasha's home. Of course, now an unpredicted storm would trap her here. It was no more than she deserved.
    She made it up the stairs and into the bedroom without tripping or dropping anything, and as she unpacked and hung her clothes in the closet, she gave herself brownie points for coordination, for good unpacking skills, for not burying her nose in Jasha's suit and breathing in his scent. . . . Nope, she had to take those points away. Sniffing his sleeve while she hung up her coat constituted cheating.
    As she worked, she kept straining, listening, waiting for that whisper of awareness that said Jasha had returned to his home. Nothing. She even walked back to the top of the stairs, but he wasn't here.
    Her active imagination created the scenario—he'd gone for a walk in the woods, tripped, and broken his leg. Or better yet, he'd been attacked by a cougar, had fought it off, and was even now calling for her..
    And she . . . she sensed his distress and hunted through the night until she found him, cleaned and bandaged his wounds, built a stretcher out of saplings, dragged him back to the house, and nursed him. . . . Unfortunately, she couldn't convince even herself of that story.
    Not that Jasha couldn't