Common sense urged Blythe to be the one to turn her back.
But reckless curiosity, the kind that came from too many sleepless nights spent allowing self-doubt to cripple her, had her doing the opposite instead.
Stretching, she stood and crossed to him. With her heart beating in her chest like a trapped hummingbird, she moved closer to him, with their gazes still locked.
In unison, they moved backward, around the corner and out of view of the sofa. No words were spoken as he took her hand and pulled her close, up against him.
She kissed him first, standing up on her toes and arching her body into his. He deepened the kiss, letting her feel the heat of his own desire. She was glad to learn it burned as hot as her own.
KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amid the Catskill Mountains of New York, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty that surrounded her. Karen now lives in north Texas, where she shares her life with her very own hero of a husband and three doting dogs. Also an entrepreneur, she divides her time between the business she started and writing. You can email Karen at [email protected] or write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans of her writing can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com.
The Lost Wolf’s Destiny
Karen Whiddon
To all the broken people out there. You know who you are. I’m hoping you healed, rose above your past and learned from others’ mistakes. Special thanks to my bestie and critique partner Anna Adams, for going above and beyond helping me make this book the best it could possibly be. Your help and amazingly sharp eye are appreciated more than you know.
Contents
Chapter 1
The instant Lucas Kenyon heard the man’s cultured, sanctimonious voice on the six o’clock evening news, his blood froze. Despite not having seen the speaker for fifteen years, he shuddered. He knew that voice, knew it too damn well. Even after fifteen years, it still haunted his nightmares.
Up until this past January, he’d assiduously avoided anything to do with The Church of Sanctuary and its leader. If something came on the news, he’d changed the channel. Newspaper or magazine articles were tossed, unread. He’d wanted no reminders of his painful past.
But the time had come to face his demons. Lucas had never in his life made a New Year’s resolution. This year, he had. No more would he bury himself in work and avoidance.
“What the hell?” he muttered, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume.
The man, Jacob Gideon—Lucas refused to think of him as his father—smiled benevolently. “We can heal young Hailey, I promise you that.” His tone reverberated with the sincerity of his conviction. “Faith works through my hands.”
Faith? Try murder. Un-freaking-believable. Briefly, Lucas closed his eyes, allowing the long-ago grief and pain and shame to wash over him. On some inner level he’d known. After all, Jacob had killed once in the name of his faith. Lucas had no doubt the man would do it again.
If he hadn’t already. Lucas cursed. No wonder the voice of his conscience had gotten so loud he’d been unable to drown it out.
As the man spoke again, Lucas snapped out of it. What Jacob was suggesting—no, stating—was more than wrong, more than an outright lie.
Of course, Jacob spoke as if he really meant his own nonsense. Lucas made a sound of pure disgust. Jacob had always believed he was an angel appointed from up high who had somehow misplaced his wings.
As if angels killed. Though thinking about how Lucifer actually had been a fallen angel, Lucas supposed it was possible. Jacob always had styled himself as if he sat on the other side of God.
His father looked sincere and kind, but Lucas knew better. Jacob was pure evil. Studying the man, he shook his head. Jacob looked eerily the same, as if selling his soul to the devil had granted him eternal youth. He was more than dangerous. He was deadly. No one knew that better than Lucas. After all, Jacob had been hunting him for the past fifteen years.
With narrowed eyes, Lucas watched the rest of the news segment, wincing as a fragile little girl with a heart-shaped face smiled painfully at the reporter. Something about her delicate vulnerability reminded Lucas of the child he’d once been, and the other. The twin he’d lost. The sister Jacob had killed.
As the camera narrowed in on a woman—her mother?—Lucas moved closer to the television. The sight of this unknown woman—as defenseless as her daughter—hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. Her brownish-blond hair as fine as spun silk, creamy porcelain skin and long-lashed green eyes, made her a beautiful mystery that interested him far more than his father’s manipulative faux spiritual healings. She was, Lucas thought, both lovely and otherworldly, in a way neither he nor Jacob Gideon would be able to resist—for reasons as different as they were themselves.
This was partly what interested him, or at least that was what he told himself. True, she was gorgeous, but around her he could see the faint hint of an aura. An aura that meant she was like him. He’d learned there were others, of course, and how to recognize them, even though he stayed away from them like he stayed away from Jacob.
Until now, as far as he knew, no others of his kind had fallen into Jacob Gideon’s clutches. Of course, if they had, he wouldn’t have noticed. A shudder racked him, of guilt and grief and sorrow at the knowledge that his years of avoidance might have enabled Jacob to snare another Shifter. Lucas