Wolf’s
Strength
Caedmon Wolves, #5
Tension grows between
old rivals.
Cold-blooded murder sparks
a feud between rivals that could lead to the deadliest civil war in
Pack history. Alpha Devin Caedmon and his council are forced to risk
all that is precious to protect their bloodline. Tristan Arnou,
Caedmon’s rival, isn’t the only force trying to tear down the
unity holding them together. The source of the threats must be
eliminated before their entire race is destroyed.
Forbidden love burns
like a wildfire.
There is one woman who
Blake DeLuca loves more than anything else. Naomi Valentine. Despite
the escalating battle and power struggles between their respective
packs, the erotic fire between these two lovers has yet to be
extinguished. Naomi’s heart belongs to Blake, but her allegiance
lies with Arnou. She’s left with two choices: Assume her duty or
accept Blake’s eternal bond?
In Wolf’s Strength,
secrets are exposed and memories that should have been buried have
resurfaced. The game of deception is a deadly one. There can be no
peace until the bloodshed ends.
AVAILABLE NOW
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR:
Multi-published author Ambrielle Kirk
writes erotic, paranormal romance, and urban fantasy. Ambrielle
lives in Atlanta, GA where she works in the accounting and finance
industry. She holds a Master's Degree in Accounting. Since graduation
she's worked in the public and private accounting sectors. She is the
wife of a loving husband, and the mother of a beautiful girl. She
works and writes full-time. A bestselling author in several
sub-genres at ARe and Amazon, she has also earned a 2012 Swirl Award
in the paranormal category. She's a PAN member of RWA, FF&P
special interest chapter of RWA, and co-founder and treasurer of
Cultural, Interracial, and Multicultural special interest chapter of
RWA. Ambrielle Kirk is also an admin at the blog, IRMC Books.
Connect with
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Webpage http://ambriellekirk.com
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"Stop the car. Someone's in
trouble."
Blake DeLuca sat straight up in the
passenger side seat with each one his senses heightened in alarm. The
sharp scream of the woman echoed in his head just like it had done
across the evening atmosphere just moments early.
The scream was a cry for help and it
sounded like someone was in despair.
"You heard it too?" Dawson
asked, as he swerved into an empty lot and brought the Maserati to a
screeching halt.
Blake's body lurched forward from the
blunt maneuver, but he didn't waste a moment's notice. He was out of
the car in three seconds flat, rushing toward the sounds of scuffling
in the alley. His wolf was just below the surface of his skin urging
him toward the incident. Plus, they were in unmarked territory where
there was sure to be human eyes everywhere even at this odd hour of
the evening. Dusk had just fallen, but that didn't mean every human
was all cozy in their homes.
Dawson was right behind him, his
running footsteps crunching the gravel and broken sidewalk with
determination.
With their keen sense of smell, it
didn't take them long to find the scene of the crime. Blake stopped
short of revealing their arrival too soon, keeping his body
positioned behind the shadow of a long dumpster. The woman screamed
again, but louder this time.
There were three of them. The intricate
pattern inked on the left shoulder designated them as belonging to
the Other clan.
They had a Caedmon female backed into a
darkened alleyway. A man lay dead on the pavement next to them. The
deep gaping slit on his neck and the pool of blood draining from his
throat evidenced that a cut to the jugular was a cause of death, if
not the main one. What little clothing the female wore were tattered
and torn about her body. The dead male didn't look that presentable
either. Anyone could tell they'd put up a fight and as a result a man
had paid with his life.
"We just wanted to have some fun
with you, that's all," one of the men from the Other clan
taunted. He and the others moved closer and closer to the frightened
woman. "Your friend there shouldn't have stuck his snout where
it doesn't belong."
One of the men kicked the dead body and
grinned. "He's dead. Now we can play some more."
Blake emerged from the shadows with
rage and curiosity running through his system.
"Help!" The woman cried out
as she finally noticed he and Dawson folding in behind the Other
clan.
The biggest one swung around and his
gaze focused on the new threat. His irises were a murky dark gray
which was very unusual for someone of the Other clan. Their eyes
usually sparked a bright silver, especially when they were provoked
and up to no good. But this man's powers were literally seething from
his pores, kind of like a Caedmon's would do, but in far less vivid
colors. Although Others were the human branch of Caedmon kind, they
couldn't shift and their abilities and powers were reduced. Only
through the wolf genes were the powers and Caedmon spirit more
potent.
"Look what else we got," the
biggest one said through clenched teeth. "More mutts. I wonder
if they're even worth earning a dull blade. The last one fell
quickly--like a limp rodent." He held up his knife,
demonstrating the sharpness by pressing a pointer finger to the tip.
Dawson growled next to him. 'Let me do
this one in.'
The statement came to Blake through
projection. After claiming the lost relics and on the night of the
delegation, this gift, along with others, was afforded to all six
members of the Council. Thought projection was something that was
only shared among mates and close siblings, so to have something this
rare in common with his fellow Council members who were like brothers
to him was a precious gift.
'But there's three of them.' Blake
projected back. 'The one with the most kills wins.'
'Game on.'
Blake pointed to the dead Caedmon on
the ground. "Why is this man dead?"
"For the same reason you will be
lying dead next to him," one replied, taking a step forward to
show his seriousness. "Not being able to mind his own business."
"Westcott was trying to help me!"
The woman blurted out, then shrank back into the building when the
biggest one, presumably the leader, turned on her.
"Shut up, tramp!" he hissed
at her and rushed her with the knife. "You were asking for it.
I'll save you for last...after I get through with these scumbags."
Blake acted quickly, his wolf on the
surface egging him on. He reached the offending male with lightning
speed, grabbing him tight around the wrist. His determination was
made clear as he snapped the offender's carpal bone in two. "Now
that's no way to talk to a lady."
He hollered in pain and dropped the
knife.
There was some scuffling behind them
and Blake figured that Dawson had got into it with the other two.
Dawson had just reached the age when a young male wolf was most
aggressive. So Blake was almost certain that he would have lured them
into a fight one way or the other.
His own opponent caught him off guard,
throwing a punch with his other fist. It missed Blake's jaw by only a
centimeter.
Blake shoved the big brute hard into
the stone wall.
When the body hit, spittle and sweat
flew away from his neck and face. He stumbled away from the building,
shaking off what was likely the result of being disoriented from the
hit. The brute appeared to give up but then he sprang back up with a
second knife, slinging it in the air at him.
The blade caught Blake in the upper
forearm. He bit his bottom lip and snatched the thing out. Blood
pulsed from the wound down his arms through to his hand. He dug his
fingers into his palms while the blood rage gathered in his fists.
Blake's eyes glazed over and he began
seeing everything in a vivid red, but things were clearer,
nonetheless. His body shuddered as he fought down his wolf, angry and
ready to emerge. There was no subduing this animal any longer. The
wolf was his other half, they completed each other, and they both
hungered for revenge.
Blake's canines ripped violently from
his gums.
He heard a squeak and discovered that
the woman was still standing there, unmoving and shocked from what
she was seeing. He caught her gaze and held it.
"Run. Never come back in unmarked
territory again," he said to her.
She wasted no time gathering up her
ripped skirt and running out of the alley.
"I'll carve you," his
opponent screamed. "I'll slice your throat just like your dead
Doctor there." His fingers shook as he pointed.
"Will that be before or after I
stuff your mouth with your own guts?"
The next thing the coward pulled out
from behind his back was a pistol.
Blake ducked out of the pathway of the
first bullet. Within seconds his bones snapped and molded. His skin
grew hot and stretched until he became the wolf. But it wasn't he who
earned the first kill. Dawson had already ripped into the throat of
one.
An enemy's treachery fueled the wolf's
rage. The need for revenge of a murdered brethren harkened. As a
Council member, he had pledged long ago to protect his people by any
and all means necessary. Above all else, he wasn't ready to die
tonight--not by any man's hand and not by a gun.
The third and fourth bullet came too
close to his head and he sprang into action. He leapt into the air,
hurling himself at the offender.
His claws dug into a meaty chest as he
drove the man's body into the ground on his back. The wolf offered
very little mercy when it came to cold blooded murderers.
Blood rushed into Blake's mouth as he
tore into the man's stomach, pulling out a mass of guts and tossing
them in heaps on the ground. This murderer's screams were too loud.
The only mercy the wolf afforded that evening was putting him out of
his misery by ripping into his throat to end it all.
After the kill, Blake's wolf spun
around ready for more, but Dawson's wolf had just taken down the last
man.
They shifted back into their human
forms almost at the same time, heaving in and out with deep raged
breaths trying to recover. Dawson stumbled to the opposite side of
the wall, clutching his side.
Blake rushed over to him. "Were
you hit?"
He held up his palm. "Dude, I'm
fine. The bullet isn't deep. I got this."
Dawson was brother to the Alpha, son to
a male descending from the original line of Caedmon ancestors.
Despite his youth, Dawson was probably ten times more powerful than
Blake was. In a matter of seconds, Dawson had expelled the bullet on
his own and succeeded in stopping the blood leakage.
Blake pried a pistol from one of the
dead man's cold fingers. He held it up to the light from the moon.
"Just as I thought. This gun is hot. The serial number has been
stripped. Bullets are probably untraceable too." He dumped the
remaining bullets from the clip into his palm.
Dawson picked up a shell from the
ground and pocketed it. "They popped off too many rounds during
the scuffle. Chances that someone nearby heard are high. Let's get
out of here."
They bent together to pick up the dead
Caedmon from the pavement. When they reached the car again, they
popped the trunk and slid him inside.
"I'll drive this time." Blake
gestured to his wounded side. "You need time to mend." He
pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and hit the speed dial
key then the number 9. His call was answered promptly.
"M-9."
"Max, we need another clean up,"
Blake replied, as he slid into the driver's side seat.
Max blurted out an expletive on the
other end. "This shit is getting serious, ain't it?"
"Roger that."
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