Page 1 of Master Wolf

Chapter One

The past, part 1

Edinburgh,November 1788

Drew dreamedof running through a forest.

He did not run on two legs, but on four, and everything he saw was some shade of grey.

In his dream it was night, the moon was full, and he was searching for Lindsay Somerville. His master.

His maker.

Drew darted through the trees until he reached a clearing. Only then did he pause, throwing back his head to howl, basking in the silver moonlight that flooded the glade.

He felt as though he was absorbing the moonlight into his body. As though it was illuminating all the dark corners of his troubled soul and filling him with a new and blissful certainty…

…until he was woken by an almighty thud that had him thrashing awake in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets.

His hand went to the sword wound on his belly, and he grunted softly with pain from his twisting movements. The injury was recovering remarkably well, but the healing process was not painless.

Drew’s other wound—the one at his neck—was not so bad as the one at his belly. Lindsay had bitten him deeply, savagely, but the torn flesh had closed over swiftly and now his throat wore a shiny pink collar of brand-new tight skin that prickled maddeningly. Drew scratched at it irritably.

Outside his chamber, a door opened and there were footsteps in the corridor. Then voices.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Neville. Did I wake you? I dropped a trunk.” The voice belonged to Wynne Wildsmith, Lindsay’s manservant who had tended to Drew’s injuries when he’d first been brought here. He was a competent, discreet young man with a reserved, careful expression.

“Not at all, but isn’t it a bit early to be moving trunks? It’s not even dawn.” That gently amused voice belonged to Francis Neville, Lindsay’s friend and, for the foreseeable future, Drew’s nursemaid.

Mr. Wildsmith spoke again, sounding somewhat panicked. “I need to have everything ready for the carriage coming at eight o’clock. Our ship sails at noon and he is still not back!”

Hewas Lindsay. Lindsay, who had gone out carousing last night.

Lindsay was a fop, a fribble, and a seducer of weak-willed men—but all of that paled into insignificance compared to what Drew had discovered over a week ago now, on the night he’d been gutted by a sword and then had his throat ripped out.

Lindsay was a wolf.

And now, apparently, Drew was too.

More accurately, Lindsay was a wolfanda man, by turns. He was a monster. And when he’d savaged Drew’s throat, he’d made Drew into a monster too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. I couldn’t bear it… the thought of you dying…”

Drew stared at the ceiling. Hehadbeen dying. The sword the other wolf—Mercer—had thrust into him had surely skewered his organs, and he’d known with perfect clarity the inevitability of his own end coming upon him.

Strange now to think how peaceful he had felt in that moment. He’d just watched Lindsay slay one man with his bare hands, then transform into a wolf and execute Mercer too. But when Lindsay, blood-stained and still in in his wolf form, had padded over to where Drew lay slumped against the wall, dying, he had felt no fear. Only a kind of wonder that he had lived to see this sight: this beautiful, deadly creature. There had been an unlikely perfection in that moment. Drew had felt at peace with himself in a way he never had before.

And then Lindsay had bitten him. And everything had changed.

Outside in the corridor, Wildsmith spoke again, interrupting Drew’s thoughts. “He promised to return before dawn.” Even through the door, Drew could hear the note of worry in his voice. “Whereishe?”

“Don’t worry,” Francis replied easily, his tone reassuring. “He’ll be back in time for the ship.”

The ship that Wildsmith and Lindsay were due to embark that day would be taking them to the Continent. They had important papers to deliver to a woman called Marguerite de Carcassonne—another wolf, their leader it seemed—and then they’d be staying in the Low Countries for a while. As a new werewolf, Drew could not be left alone, and so Francis was staying in Edinburgh to watch over him until he had a measure of control over his wolf.

Drew couldn’t wait for Lindsay to be gone.

He had been fascinated by the man from the moment they’d met—before he’d had any idea about Lindsay’s true nature. With his unashamed hedonism and refusal to be dismissed, Lindsay had torn open the iron safe inside Drew where he’d locked away his desire for men. He’d thrown that door wide open, and Drew had not been able to contain what had spilled out.