Wolf Bound Read online

  Wolf Bound

  Leisl Leighton

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  Wolf Bound

  Leisl Leighton

  One pack, one coven, a destiny intertwined...

  Five hundred years ago, facing extinction, a group of powerful witches united to create a pact with the Were to save witch-kind. The pact expelled an ancient evil, known only as the Darkness, that was blocking the Were from their wolves. With the Darkness destroyed, the Packs and their covens grew strong as they thrived beside each other in their brand-new world.

  But the Darkness was not destroyed.

  Reluctant medium Shelley Conners has good reason to hate and fear the powers that connect her to the spirit world: they bring insanity. Now that the Pack’s annoying Trickster, Adam McVale, has been turned into a Shade, a creature caught between the living and dead, her powers are the only thing that might save him. Opening herself up to the world of the dead brings more danger than insanity. The Darkness needs her abilities to make its final move—taking over the covens and Packs and using them to destroy the world.

  About the author

  LEISL is a tall red head with an overly large imagination. As a child, she identified strongly with Anne of Green Gables. Given that she is a voracious reader and born performer, it came as no surprise to anyone when she did a double major in English Literature and Drama for her BA, then went on to a career as an actor, singer and dancer, as well as scriptwriter, stage manager and musical director for cabaret and theatre restaurants (one of which she co-owned and ran for six years). After starting a family Leisl stopped performing and instead began writing the stories that had been plaguing her dreams. Leisl’s stories have won and placed in many competitions in Australia and the US, including the STALI, Golden Opportunities, Heart of the West, Linda Howard Award of Excellence, Touch of Magic and many others. Leisl lives in the leafy suburbs of Melbourne with her two beautiful boys, lovely hubby, overly spunky dogs, Buffy and Skye, and likes to spend time with family and friends. She is addicted to the Syfy channel, and her shelves are full of fantasy and paranormal books and sci-fi DVDs. She sometimes sings in a choir, has worked as a swim teacher, loves to ski, can talk the hind leg off a donkey and has been president of Romance Writers of Australia from 2014 to 2017.

  Acknowledgements

  I couldn’t have done this without my husband, Mark, who takes care of all things techie and listens to me ramble about characters and plotlines that are as real to me as he is. Thankfully he loves me and knows I’m not insane. Thanks to my two beautiful boys, Jacob and Nathaniel, for doing the same—it can be tough sometimes to have a mum who lives in another world!

  Thanks to my family and close friends—especially my parents, Kerril and Jim—for their never-ending encouragement and support and helping me out with the kids when I had a deadline that was making me lose hair.

  Aside from great family and friends, a writer needs a Coven of writing peeps all their own. Thanks to my friends in my writing groups—Liz, Laura, Chris, Marnie, Frana and Helena. I couldn’t have gotten here without you. Thanks especially to Marnie and Anyo, the best Beta readers a gal could have. And a big shout out to all my friends in Romance Writers of Australia—you are inspiration and mentor rolled into a big ball of supportive writerly love. Thank you.

  The final people I have to thank are my agent, Alex Adsett—for believing in me and my work in the first place—and Kate Cuthbert at Escape, who took a chance on these books and brought new life to them. You both make me feel like I can shine. Thank you.

  For my two boys, Jacob and Nathaniel, to remind them that every problem can be overcome with friendship, trust and love.

  Contents

  About the author

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing...

  Prologue

  Edinburgh, Scotland, 1502

  Morghanna stared out at the crowd gathered to see the spectacle of a witch trial. Their greedy, avaricious faces taunted her with their willingness to see her pronounced guilty. These people she had helped through childbirth and sickness.

  They wanted to see her burn.

  Their hatred and fear seeded the air with a foul stench. They clamoured and yelled, less than animals, their self-righteousness fuelled by jealousy of what she was:

  A witch.

  She should hate them, but her hatred was held for one Were and his pack.

  Lachlan MacCrae.

  Her lip curled. He was to blame. He was supposed to protect her on this mission of mercy. Was supposed to keep her from harm. Instead, his actions had exposed them both.

  She was only glad her sister, Morrigan, had not been there too, that she was safe far from here, creating her own coven. Morrigan had begged her not to listen to Bridgette Colliere. She’d begged her not to give their powers over to the Were all those years ago. But Morghanna had believed as Bridgette did—it was the only way they could survive. And for ten years, it had been the miracle they had prayed for.

  That was until Lachlan MacCrae saw her and decided she was to be his, and his father, the Alpha of Pack MacCrae, refused to do anything about his son’s behaviour.

  Morghanna swallowed hard, her throat dry from screams and tears. How could she have known a simple kindness would lead to this? His inability to take no for an answer, for showing off and being incautious, had caused Alistair’s death and exposed her as a witch. If he’d then stayed to protect her, she would have escaped and been on her way back to her baby son. Instead of doing what he was bound by the pact to do, he’d run, showing himself for the coward he was, leaving her to be captured. To face the inquisitor alone.

  She closed her eyes, sick of seeing the hate-filled faces around her, numb to the pain of her injuries. She’d been betrayed. Alistair was dead and soon she would be too.

  Her eyes burned with tears as she tried not to remember her lover’s laughing face, his tender kisses, the way he’d held her face as if she were the most precious thing he’d ever beheld. Lachlan’s jealousy had killed Alastair.

  His jealousy was about to kill her. She would never see her child again. Never hold him to her breast. Never hear his first laugh, see his first stumbling attempt at walking, run to him when he was hurt, filling him with the certainty of her love. Lachlan had stolen all of that from Alistair and her.

  For that, she could not forgive Lachlan. Or Iain. Or any of Pack MacCrae who had done nothing but laugh and tell her not to worry when she brought up Lachlan’s behaviour, asking for their advice and help.

  Instead of protecting her, they had destroyed her.

  Thank the Goddess she’d left her child with Bridgette and Malcolm before coming here. Her child was safe from the MacCrae’s tender care.

  They weren’t safe from her.

  The pyre was lit at her feet. As the flames leapt to life around her, she did not weep. She filled her thoughts with rage enough to fuel her curse so that it would live long after she was gone, and spat it into the sky. Her curse woul
d take care of Pack MacCrae and ensure no witch or warlock was hurt by them or their kind again.

  As her curse rang out into the night, the fire leapt up around her, only feet from her, but hot, so hot. Oh Goddess. It hurt. The flames weren’t even touching her, but she swore her skin was blistering. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes against the smoke. She wouldn’t cry out. Wouldn’t give those watching the satisfaction of her pain.

  A pricking awareness shuddered through her and her eyes snapped open, her gaze colliding with Morrigan’s through the smoke and flame.

  No!

  Oh, Goddess, no.

  Her sister shouldn’t be here. Not to witness this. Not to be touched by its evil. Despite the heat of the flames, cold slithered through her bones as she saw the look on Morrigan’s face—pure unbridled rage and hate, fuelled by Morghanna’s own curse she’d spat into the night moments ago, and the prejudice against the Were already in her heart. Oh Goddess, what had she done?

  Morrigan lifted her hands, drawing power.

  Morghanna shook her head, whispered her denial, hoping the Goddess would carry her words to her sister’s ears. ‘No, Morrigan. Don’t bring this destruction upon yourself. Don’t compound my mistake with more hatred.’

  Morrigan’s hands stilled, the power falling away as devastation and grief pulled on her stunning features. ‘I will avenge you. The animals will not be allowed to get away with this.’

  ‘No. My curse will take care of those responsible and make certain this happens to no other witch again.’

  Morrigan shook her head, her rage and grief almost a physical thing.

  ‘Please, Morrigan. Listen to me. Leave well enough alone.’ The flames leapt higher, obscuring her vision, the smoke choking her, the flames catching her dress, touching her skin. She screamed, unable, despite her vow, to hold it in.

  ‘They will pay for this.’ She heard her sister’s words in her head, carried by magic and their blood-bond.

  ‘Please, my Goddess,’ she managed to gasp up at the sky. ‘End this now. Don’t allow the poison to feed on the hatred and suffering of this moment.’

  Light glowed through her in answer and she lifted her head to the heavens as the touch of her Goddess fell upon her.

  The light brightened, white and pure, as flames exploded around her. Screams sang out on the air as the mob fell away from the explosion of white-hot heat and flame. There was a brief flash of pain.

  And then there was nothing.

  She never saw the destruction her sister wrought in her name or saw the moment the Darkness wrapped itself around Morrigan’s heart. It wasn’t until much later when she was able to pull her consciousness together, that she looked down on the world and saw what had been started by her Curse.

  ‘Oh Goddess! How can I make amends for what I’ve done?’

  ‘You can help me,’ the Goddess said as she appeared beside her. ‘Together, we can work to defeat the creature at the heart of this madness.’

  ‘My Curse already took care of the MacCraes.’

  ‘Not the MacCraes. The thing behind all the evil in this world. You will help me to destroy the Darkness.’

  Chapter 1

  The smell was the first thing that hit Adam, a horrible burning of flesh and cotton. Then the punch as he was flung backwards. Time slowed, every bare millisecond separated as he flew through the air, giving him a chance to look down.

  Fuck, there was a hole in his chest.

  Time sped up as the pain in his chest tore through him. He hit the wall and there was a strange popping, wrenching sound that made him stagger. There was a thump behind him. He spun to see his body splayed on the ground, a stupid look of surprise on his face. Marcus landed beside him. A black charred hole smoked in both their chests. Marcus’ body was still in the super-empowered form that had allowed them to break down the door. Adam’s was returning to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with a big black smoking hole in his chest.

  Hang on. Why was he looking at his body and not up at the ceiling?

  The room span. There could be only one explanation.

  He was dead.

  Holy shit!

  He was dead?

  It all happened so fast. One moment he’d been rushing into the room, feeling stronger than he’d ever felt before, the next—bam! Struck by Warlock Lightning. Dead.

  It was the most curious sensation. Not at all like he’d thought it would feel. Quite freeing actually if you discounted the initial pain. Although there sure was a lot of wind in the afterlife—he couldn’t feel it, but it was a loud whooshing in his ears. It made hearing anything else difficult.

  Shelley had never mentioned it. Maybe she didn’t hear it. Maybe you had to be dead to hear the noise of the afterlife.

  He laughed, couldn’t help it. It was so absurd.

  Shelley’s gaze snapped to him and the laughter died. She wasn’t looking at his body lying on the floor with the smouldering hole in its chest. But at him. Ghost him. And the expression on her face made him want to howl.

  Horror. Grief. Realisation.

  He was dead. And there was no way they could ever be together. Not that there was ever really a chance that they would have been, but now that chance was completely gone. Whisked away between one breath and the next. It was like being punched in the chest with something worse than Warlock Lightning. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe. He was dead! And every hope he’d ever had was gone.

  Something brushed past him and he became aware of the pandemonium around him. What the fuck was he doing standing here worried about what he’d lost? There was a battle raging around him. Cain was about to throw a lightning bolt at Shelley.

  No!

  He threw himself in the way but he needn’t have bothered. Power sizzled in the air as Shelley waved her hand and shouted out a word. Something buffeted him, and he saw the spirits around him waver and crackle, like bad transmission on the TV. There was a faint amethyst outline hanging in the air around them all, like a bubble—holy crap, it was a shield!—protecting her, Cordy and the two bodies lying on the floor. Cain loosed his lightning. It hit the shield, flared and skittered up to the ceiling, exploding there.

  ‘Fuck, Shelley, that was amazing. I didn’t know you could do that.’

  She simply stared at him and then her gaze darted around him and he became aware of hundreds of spirits surrounding her too. He wasn’t sure if they were being protective or staying in her protective cordon. He didn’t have a chance to ask. Another bolt of lightning hit the shield. Sparks sprayed everywhere, delineating the edges of it, the strange amethyst tinge to its translucent edges fluttering. The bolt slid up and hit the ceiling. Rocks and plaster bounced off the shield and clattered onto the floor. Shelley winced as if they’d hit her.

  She was being hurt. Protective rage surged inside him. ‘You bastard,’ he shouted at Cain and leapt towards him—and fell right through him and onto the floor. He rolled over, swearing, and rose, ready to try again. One of the spirits was whispering something in Shelley’s ear. Another—he knew it was Harrison, Skye and River’s grandfather, from photos he’d seen—shouted something, a general organising his troops, and half the spirits surged forward towards Cain.

  Cain shrieked, his words lost in the strange wind that seemed to be a constant whistle in Adam’s ears, loosed another bolt and then ran to the door.

  ‘Don’t let him get away!’ Iain shouted, loud enough that he did hear it. Shit. Iain was there. With Eloise cradled in his arms on the opposite side of the room. He’d forgotten about them. He turned to do as Iain bid, but Cain was already out the door, loosing another lightning bolt at Shelley as he went. More rocks and plaster rained down from the ceiling. Cain was gone, but he didn’t really care. He turned to check on Shelley.

  She was staring at him.

  ‘I’m dead, aren’t I?’ She didn’t answer, but her eyes blinked faster. ‘Is this where I go towards the light?’

  ‘Don’t go. Don’t go,’ she whispered. Strange
that he could hear her so clearly.

  Then a sob rent the air. Cordy grabbed Marcus’ shirt. ‘Marcus. Marcus. Come back to me. Don’t you leave me alone. Not like this. Not like this.’

  Adam’s gaze tore from Shelley to see Marcus’ spirit standing over Cordy, tortured grief written in every line of him. Shelley stared, then started forward to go to Adam and Marcus’ bodies.

  ‘Shelley.’ Iain’s voice, a sharp, desperate shout. ‘Shelley. You can’t help them. They’re already gone. Eloise is still alive. We have to help her. Shelley!’

  Cordy’s wailing became even louder, the sobs so grief-filled they lashed him. He could see they were lashing Iain as well, the grief in his friend’s eyes for him as well as the Alpha and the mate he’d left behind. Yet, like a good lieutenant always would do, he put aside his grief and did what he could for the living. Adam understood. Just as he understood Iain would do anything to save his new mate.

  Marcus had turned to Shelley and was saying something to her, but Adam still couldn’t make out his words through the howling wind—he could barely make out what the living were saying. Except Shelley. Her words were clear.

  Shelley blinked and then very slowly turned to Cordy, her brow creased. She touched the McClune’s Pack Witch on the head and said, ‘Sleep.’ Cordy slumped over Marcus’ body, the absence of sobbing a shocking silence. Shelley nodded slowly as Marcus said something else. ‘I know. Are you sure?’ She paused, then nodded. ‘I’ll tell her later.’ Marcus looked pleadingly at her, then nodded and turned back to his mate.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ Iain asked.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Marcus. He’s standing right there. He couldn’t bear Cordy’s grief and asked me to make her sleep. She’ll be no use to us anyway.’ Her eyes slipped to where Adam stood and then away.

  ‘We have to help Eloise,’ Iain repeated.

  ‘Yes.’ Shelley blinked again and turned to look at him and the woman in his arms. ‘Bron will be here soon.’