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Moon Dancer: Chapter 1 Scene 2

If you missed it, click here to start at the beginning….

***

Moon Dancer excerptThe faster I tried to button my white silk blouse, the more my fingers fumbled. No wonder since my nails kept lengthening into claws.

“Cut it out,” I muttered, grabbing my keys and wallet and stealing one quick glance in the hall mirror. I needed to be on time. I needed to look professional…

…And I needed to rebutton my blouse. Because, despite my best efforts, I’d still managed to mismatch the rows.

My day. My choice, the wolf inside me grumbled. She forced me to drop the car keys back into the bowl by the door then bent our body double until clean cuffs dragged against grubby floor tiles. Run. Hunt. Come, Adena.

The raven responded to our body language with a caw and a rustle of feathers, hopping off the coat rack to land on our curved spine. Both bird and wolf were willing to blow off the most important lecture of the semester in favor of stalking rabbits in the empty lot three blocks over. Unlike me, they had no concerns about losing our job and winding up homeless when we failed to pay the bills.

Wolves don’t need houses, my inner beast scoffed. Wolves need pack.

“How about blood?”

Hmmm?

The body she commanded froze, knees pressing against unyielding floor tiles. We sank back onto our skirted bum, the welcome mat managing to scratch our skin despite the fabric in between.

My wolf was listening.

“Hot blood,” I elaborated, pressing my index fingernail against the pad of my thumb to measure sharpness. The claw had receded but my human nail was longer than it had been when we’d started our morning power struggle. Still, my nails weren’t so claw-like that I’d have to rush back to the bathroom and clip them. If the wolf accepted our humanity, we didn’t have to be late.

“Salty. Tasty,” I continued. Testing my muscles, I rose into a more human posture. “Look.”

Flicking open the drinking spout of the insulated coffee mug, at first I smelled nothing. Then, my wolf’s interest piqued.

Colors dimmed. Scents sharpened. Saliva pooled in our shared mouth.

I hurried through the locking of one door and unlocking of another. But my wolf didn’t stay distracted long.

Now, she demanded as my hand made contact with the cool metal of the car door handle.

I tried to clench my fingers sufficiently to pull up on the lever, but my left hand was the one that moved without my permission. The mug lifted to my lips. Drink, the wolf demanded.

I couldn’t bait and switch, so I swallowed the thick liquid I’d bought in the butcher’s freezer section yesterday then primed in the microwave moments earlier. The notion of what I was sucking down repulsed me. The taste was vile.

The wolf disagreed. Pleasure suffused us. Was she or I the one being strengthened by the liquid some poor cow had lost while being processed into hamburgers?

The demand that followed was most definitely lupine. More.

“Once we get there,” I countered. This time, I managed to slide into the car so we could speed toward campus. It was only a three-minute drive and my lecture wasn’t scheduled to begin for another four minutes. I wasn’t yet officially late.

More! Furry fingers clenched around the steering wheel, swerving us sideways. The car’s fender narrowly missed a pedestrian, who yelled something I was glad was blocked by the closed window. Adena responded from the passenger seat with a round of avian swearing as I turned into the closest lot.

“We’re almost there.” I needed both hands to park and grab my laptop case, but I rolled my tongue around in my mouth to capture the final molecules of blood.

The effort was a sop to my wolf and she responded with a minuscule relaxation sufficient to allow me to exit the vehicle. Our knuckles were hairless—mostly. And I found myself able to juggle the mug and the laptop once Adena abandoned me in favor of her customary tree branch.

Sunny March weather meant the raven preferred to stay outside while I lectured. My wolf had similar inclinations. But the salty liquid on my tongue soothed her. She hummed her satisfaction as I swallowed one last particle of blood.

The bell tower chimed, knocking me off my stride. Shoot. I’d forgotten that my car clock ran two minutes slow.

Sprinting, I clung to the mug while rebuttoning my blouse and trying not to let the laptop strap bounce off my shoulder. The halls were empty. Everyone must have already settled into their seats.

I burst through the door, gazing up at the packed lecture hall. My eyes slid over the back corner, hiccuped as my wolf struggled for dominance.

She wanted to greet him. She wanted to lick him. She wanted to….

Squashing her interest, I moved on to assess the room professionally.

I was late, but the turnout was excellent. I could still make this appearance work.

“Ah, here she is now.” The new department chair turned to greet me, only a faint twitching in her cheek denoting her disapproval of my tardiness. “Please give a warm welcome to Dr. Olivia Hart.”

The clapping was effusive. I smiled then leaned over the nearby table, setting down my bag in preparation for hooking my laptop up to the projector.

And my wolf pounced.

“Blood.” Her words. My mouth. A titter from the audience.

Not now! This time I was the one speaking silently. She was the one grabbing the travel mug and upending it over our tilted face.

Ruby red liquid poured out the hole in the top, glinting in reflected sunlight before gushing over our taste buds. Most we swallowed—after all, the wolf thought this treat was delicious. But some overflowed onto our chin, the table, the neck of our blouse.

White no longer, my work attire was now streaked with crimson. I glanced down, cheeks heating at the way blood puddled between my breasts.

This wasn’t how I’d intended my lecture to start.

Click here to jump to chapter 2!

Moon Dancer: Chapter 1 Scene 1

Are you ready for a sneak peak into Moon Dancer? This book probably won’t make any sense if you haven’t read Wolf Dreams. But if you’ve got book one under your belt, here’s a teaser to whet your appetite for book two.

***

Moon Dancer excerptIt came as a dream but felt like a vision. A wolf’s face in beaten copper, hollows where the eyes should have been. The hand I possessed—broad, ornamented with a ring of twisted fibers—slid the wolf mask into a tightly woven basket that bobbed along the edge of a barely illuminated stream.

…The old ways.” A male voice rumbled out of my chest. Quiet drumbeats almost drowned out our words.

Something clenched inside me. My wolf, sleeping until then, woke and clawed at my insides.

Pack. Find him….

This was no time for lupine nonsense. I pushed the wolf down, analyzing the artifact that was being released into an underground watercourse.

It was ancient. Even in the dim light, I could tell the mask had a story and belonged in a museum. Was it…?

Before I could fully formulate the question, the artifact was lost into the wild. Like a stick dropped into a stream to race against another, the basket leapt free of our fingers and jumped forward out of reach.

We didn’t try to stop it. Instead, we stood frozen while the roar of a not-so-distant waterfall was overwhelmed by a rising melody of chants and drumbeats. Weariness of age made our body tremble as the last flicker of copper disappeared into the darkness.

Come,” the man murmured. His voice was querulous. “We need you.”

For one moment longer, we lingered. I couldn’t tell why the man whose body I inhabited wasn’t moving or who he’d been calling, but I understood my own intentions.

It had been months since I’d visited the past in a vision. No wonder I reveled in the connection. What was this man about to reveal to me? What would…?

We turned. Hit pause on a cell phone. The soundtrack halted mid-note.

Wait, what?

This wasn’t the prehistoric past. This was the technologically overpowering present.

I woke to the blaring anger of a long-ignored alarm.

Click here to dive into scene two!

Summer reading list

Usually, it takes me several months to come up with a list of books I love and think you will too. But this has been a good reading season. So here are three werewolf books and a steampunk selection for your enjoyment.

The Last Wolf

My number one recommendation is Maria Vale’s The Last Wolf (and the sequel, which I thought was even better). The cover looks like such a run-of-the-mill shifter romance, but the story inside is deeply engrossing and unique. It’s beautiful in a way similar to Maggie Stiefvater’s Shiver, is steeped in Scandinavian lore, and is also lushly romantic. Do not start this book if you need to go to bed on time.

Alpha by Audrey Faye

Again, the cover does this book no favors. But Alpha by Audrey Faye is a deeply engrossing story about a wounded pack and the young alpha who resolves to fix them. And it’s FREE to borrow with Kindle Unlimited.

Storm Cursed

If you haven’t been living under a rock, you’ll know there’s a new Mercy Thompson book out. This one wasn’t my favorite, but Patricia Briggs’ worst book is better than pretty much anyone else’s best. Of course, you’ll want to start at the beginning rather than diving straight into Storm Cursed.

Saving Verity

Finally, if you’re willing to branch out beyond werewolves, Saving Verity is a steampunk mystery with a delightful scientist heroine and Druid detective. Again, this one is FREE to borrow if you subscribe to Kindle Unlimited.

Wolf Rampant Trilogy

And if that’s not quite enough, I’ve also marked down my Wolf Rampant Trilogy to 99 cents this week only. Snag it while it’s cheap, and happy reading!

What to read after Ilona Andrews

Ilona Andrews

Ilona Andrews is one of my favorite authors…or, actually, two of them. This husband/wife duo create the perfect blend of action, fantasy, and romance in their Kate Daniels (urban fantasy with a side of shifter), On the Edge (urban fantasy/paranormal romance mixture), Hidden Legacy (romantic urban fantasy with a witchy cast), and Innkeeper (sci-fi-ish/urban fantasy) series.

If you haven’t already, you should definitely read them all. But then what do you dive into? Here’s what some of their fans have to say:

Patricia Briggs gets the most votes (including mine!).

Anne Bishop is a close runnerup. It took me forever to look past the cover and try out her Others series. But when I did I was blown away!

Nalini Singh is a sister author if you like a little more romance.

And after that it’s a tossup of whether you should move on to Faith Hunter, Devon Monk, Seanan McGuire, Jim Butcher, Rachel Aaron, or Karen Marie Moning. Or any of the dozens of other authors whose books fill urban-fantasy bookshelves today.

In fact, it made my day when a reviewer compared my Moon Marked series (the first book of which is free) to Ilona Andrews. Maybe someday I’ll live up to that compliment! In the meantime, I’ll just keep reading their witty prose.

Six more months of great books

Recommended novellas

There’s something about the tight story structure of a great novella that snags my interest even though short stories often aren’t my cup of tea. Which is a long way of saying — two-thirds of my recommendations this time around are novellas. I hope you like the format as much as I do!

Romancing the Werewolf, How to Marry a Werewolf, and Romancing the Inventor by Gail Carriger are all delightful, but the first one I listed is probably my favorite. These are all set in her steampunk world.

Here There Be Monsters by Meljean Brook is a really fun short set in the Iron Seas world.

Beast by Christine Pope is a very hooky sci-fi romance (and free on Amazon at the time of this post).

Okay, enough of novellas. On to longer works!

Sweep of the Blade

Sweep of the Blade is the fourth book in Ilona Andrews’ Innkeeper Chronicles. If you haven’t read the others, you’ll probably want to start at the beginning (although this book follows a side character and may be understandable anyway). If you have read the others, though, now’s the time to read the newest installment free on their website before they take it down to polish for publication. Spoiler: it is a delight!

Polaris Rising

Polaris Rising by Jessie Mihalik is quite possibly my favorite book of the last six months. It slid right into that sweet spot between space opera and science-fiction romance where you get a happily ever after at the end of a lot of fun adventure. Highly recommended.

Site Unseen

Finally, if my recent release sucked you into archaeological mysteries, here’s a recommendation (although without any fantasy or werewolves, alas!). Site Unseen by Dana Cameron sucked me in…and is currently free with Kindle Unlimited. Enjoy!

News, news, news!

Wolf Dreams excerptFirst of all, I realized I never explicitly told you that Wolf Dreams is live! If you’re on the fence about giving it a try, here are some reviews to change your mind:

A smart, educated, amazing lead female character with a few flaws…both funny and relatable — Summer Rain

Fast-paced and laced with mystery and suspense — Tamara Kasyan

Sparks fly as danger ensues in epic proportions — Kaye

Angst, drama, emotions and romance with a bit of mystery thrown in — Robin Smith

Full of excitement and humor and fun — LHill

My new favorite from Aimee Easterling — Shadowcat

Lone Wolf Dawn audiobook

If you’d rather listen rather than read, the second book in my Alpha Underground series is now available as an audiobook. My narrator tells me that book three will probably be out in June. (And, if you missed it, book one is available in audio as well.)

Shiftless cover timeline

Finally, don’t be shocked if you see Shiftless with a new cover. I’ve loved all of this book’s covers (with the possible exception of my homemade effort on the far left), but there’s a reason books get a facelift every few years. Readers who’ve decided they don’t want any part of a book might give it a try with a new cover, and styles change over time.

To cut a long story short, Shiftless has a new look and the rest of the series will soon as well. I hope you enjoy the update!

Wolf Dreams: Chapter 3

(If you’re starting on this page, please click here to return to the beginning so you don’t miss any of the story.)

Wolf Dreams“Then this isn’t yours.”

The words should have been a question, but they weren’t. Instead, they were a statement of ownership even as he slipped the silver chain that had recently been around his neck over my head.

The saber-tooth-cat fang tapped against my nose as it lowered from my forehead to my chin then continued its way downward. Calloused skin grazed my cheek as his hand retreated. And I couldn’t seem to stop my fingers from cupping the heavy artifact that seemed to burn through my sweater with borrowed heat.

“No, it’s not mine,” I answered, even though the fang felt right hanging there. Even though the weight around my neck seemed to lift me up rather than bowing me down.

The men on either side of me exchanged loaded glances. “She isn’t…” started Prince Charming.

“Doesn’t matter,” answered Mr. Wolf. Then, spearing me again with his unbreakable attention, he introduced both of them in rapid succession. “Claw.” This was himself. “Harry.” A thumb jab in the direction of the fairy-tale prince.

“Olivia,” I replied, somehow needing him to know my first name even though a second ago I’d been trying to rush him out the door.

“O-liv-ia,” he repeated, the word seductive and warm in his deep rumble. For a moment, we were suspended in the lull that followed. Then: “We need your help.”

Yes, anything. I wasn’t sure if that was me or the monster. But I somehow managed not to speak the words aloud.

As if responding to my caution, Claw raised his eyebrows at Harry. And the latter accepted the conversational ball as easily as he’d dropped it in the first place. “Ma’am, we work for the President.”

“Of the university?”

Adena cackled a throaty laugh at my confusion while Harry corrected me. “No. Of the nation. As you may have noticed, Jim Kelter…hasn’t been feeling quite himself.”

This made no sense. “I’m not a medical doctor,” I pointed out, although my gaze remained focused on Claw. “My PhD is in archaeology. I study cave paintings, ancient artifacts, and old bones.”

“Like this?” Claw’s finger almost grazed my breast as he tapped the fang he’d given me. But his motion was careful, calculated. Only air slid across my sweater to impact the underlying skin.

I shivered, knowing there was no point in explaining that a bone and a tooth were slightly different in molecular structure. No one would care about biochemistry when dealing with an erratic head of state.

“Yes,” I started. “But…”

“Then we need you.” Claw’s voice reverberated through my bones like the beat of a drum.

He smells like home, the monster inside me whispered, forcing my body to lean forward and inhale a deeper whiff of his woodsy scent.

And the monster’s mirroring of my own feelings slapped me back to reality. I couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by a sexual fancy that would send my mental health floundering.

Plus: “You look out for you,” my father was fond of saying. “Everyone else is doing the same.”

Our nation’s President had dozens—hundreds—of people on staff to ensure his well-being. I had myself…plus Adena when she felt like obeying my commands.

Rationally, I was making the right decision. So I wasn’t sure why it hurt so badly to deny Claw’s request.

“I’m afraid I can’t help,” I answered, snapping my fingers at the raven. She landed on my shoulder with the weight of disappointment, head swiveling to peer behind us as I strode out of the room.

***

There was a student waiting for me in the hallway when I headed back to campus to deal with my inherited mess after a quick stop home to swallow my meds and toss the cat tooth into my kitchen junk drawer. Adena had also demanded a bite to eat, and I’d changed my shoes because my feet were killing me. To cut a long story short, by the time I rounded the corner and found the freckled class perfectionist waiting for me, I was running quite a bit behind.

He was bundled up against the winter chill, head bowed in a manner that promised our interlude wouldn’t be brief. Still, I smiled and welcomed him. “Joe.”

“I know this isn’t your office hours….” The sixteen-year-old freshman started apologizing the moment I came into view.

“Don’t worry about it.” I dug for my keys in my bag then took a look through the narrow office-door window as I fumbled with the lock. Inside, the piles of my predecessor’s jumbled-together stuff looked taller than when I’d left them. Great.

I was a slob at home, but I liked my workspace tidy. So it had been a bit of a shock when I’d arrived at my office a week ago to find the room full of unlabeled artifacts related to Blackburn’s specialty—the first humans to grace the North American continent. There were stacks of scientific journals by the hundred on the same topic. And, off in one corner, an odd mass of wires and chemicals must have had something to do with a hobby; it certainly made no sense to my archaeological eye.

Even Adena’s perch had been shunted out of the main thoroughfare. The raven cawed annoyance at leaving the center of attention, but she still fluttered off my shoulder and onto her wooden foothold as I ushered Joe inside.

“Tell me about your paper,” I nudged him. The freshman was brilliant, but he required a fair amount of hand-holding. I had a feeling by the time he achieved the age of the average freshman, he would have grown into his own skin.

That happy day was two years in the future however. So I ignored my to-do list and prepared to hold some metaphorical hands.

Sure enough, the flood gates opened as soon as I gave him the opportunity. “I was thinking of delving into Native American petroglyphs.” His eyes sparkled as he lost track of his surroundings and traversed more familiar terrain—the inside of his own head. “Subtopic: form constants and the possible use of hallucinogens. I’d like to track down modern shamans to interview, but I doubt I’ll have time to speak with more than one or two.”

He glared at me then, frustrated that I’d given him less than a week to compile his magnum opus. I swallowed my amusement as I replied. “You do realize that when I said you needed secondary sources, I was referring to scientific articles? This isn’t a dissertation, Joe. This is only 25% of your grade in one class.”

“Yes,” he started. “But the material merits—”

We both glanced up as someone tapped on my open door.

***

Of course. Who else. Dr. Dick Duncan, nemesis and boss, hovered there, smirking.

“Dick,” I greeted him, hating the fact that Joe’s slender shoulders cowered the moment the department chair glanced in his direction. A good professor lifted up her students. Dr. Duncan got a kick out of knocking them down.

“Ah, you’re speaking to the boy genius.” He laughed, displaying teeth that were far more perfect than you’d expect from a man of his generation. Word on the street was that they were all fake…just like his interest in his students. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“No, I was going.” Joe, who would gladly have talked archaeology for at least another half hour, stuffed his notebook in his bag so rapidly the pages bent over. Then he slid through the gap between Dick and the door jamb, the other professor not doing him the courtesy of coming inside to widen the space.

“Well?” I asked after the thuds of Joe’s footsteps had receded. I’d need to check on the boy later if I didn’t want a repeat of his first reaction paper, a one-paragraph assignment that he’d handed in two weeks late and twenty pages long.

“Just making sure you’re doing your job,” Dick answered, apparently ignorant of the irony of the situation. Then he wandered away without saying anything further, acting for all the world as if he’d had no purpose in entering other than hazing the young.

Frustrated, I stared after my boss for one long moment. Was this really the leadership the university wanted heading up our department? Unfortunately, as the youngest professor on the totem pole, there was nothing I could do about it. So I dismissed the annoyance and instead dove into the office-cleaning project I’d avoided for far too long.

I’m not sure when the hallway grew quiet, the last faculty members and students filtering away to their homes and dormitories. I just knew that when the last of Blackburn’s papers were picked through and separated into piles—photocopies to be discarded, notes to be filed, materials to be returned to the university library—the view outside my window had darkened into night.

I hadn’t meant to be here so late on the final day of the semester, and I could tell Adena was antsy after sitting on her perch for so long. I’d get her an egg out of the department refrigerator to tide her over and do just a little more filing. Then I’d find my way home….

But when I padded down the hall toward the main entrance, the sound of fingers clacking on a keyboard emerged out of the darkness. Past the entrance and down the corridor, now I was following a rectangle of light that spilled out into the hall.

The department office. Who would be inside at this hour? Poking my head around the corner cautiously, I wasn’t sure what I expected to see. But it certainly wasn’t the plump, middle-aged secretary bowed over her laptop with the intensity of a predator on the hunt.

“Hello,” I said, then jumped as Suzy slammed down the lid with all the force of a teenager caught watching pornography.

“Oh! Hello.” Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy. What exactly did she get up to in her office after dark?

“I just came by to grab a snack for Adena,” I said vaguely, motioning at the bird on my shoulder. “But I can take her home to feed her. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting anything. I was just leaving. Here, let me get it for you.”

Despite Suzy’s more usual cadence, I hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to deal with further problems. After all, I could feel the monster coiled inside me, napping lightly after her exertions earlier in the day.

But Adena possessed none of my reservations. Flying off my shoulder, the raven landed on Suzy’s arm then began picking at the older woman’s shiny bracelets.

And Suzy reacted the way she always did. “What a charmer,” she cooed, scratching Adena’s neck once before opening the refrigerator door and pulling out one of the raw eggs she kept inside for my raven. But she didn’t offer to chat. Instead, she ejected me, locking up her office and trotting alongside as we headed down the hall.

“You should be careful going home,” she warned. “The students tell me there’s a big, black dog wandering around that scared a freshman out of her panties.”

There were always crazy stories on a college campus, so I shrugged off the unlikelihood of panty-dropping beasts. “You be careful too,” I answered vaguely. Then I froze, Adena’s egg slipping through my fingers, as I took in the jumble of white papers spread across what should have been a pristine, empty floor in front of my office door.

Want to keep reading? Wolf Dreams is available on all retailers. Thanks for joining Olivia on her adventure!

Wolf Dreams: Chapter 2

Cave art(If you’re starting on this page, please click here to return to the beginning so you don’t miss any of the story.)

“No, absolutely not!” Patricia proclaimed, waving the paper wildly in front of her face without taking in the fact that she was one step away from being menaced by a weapon.

“What is it?” This was Joe, my people-pleasing kid-genius. He paled as he scanned the handout someone thrust toward him. “Due Wednesday?” he groaned, no less horrified than Patricia was. “That doesn’t even give us time for interlibrary loan.”

I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need interlibrary loan—there were thousands of volumes in our own library and millions of articles in our online system. But I didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention to the armed intruder. Not when the ensuing panic might result in somebody getting shot.

Instead, I took a chance that I was reading the situation properly. I snapped my fingers at my inherited raven even as I dove into the scrum.

“You don’t understand…” one student started.

“Here, this is for you.” A bright red apple perfect enough to have graced a teacher’s desk in a comic strip was thrust into my hands.

“Thank you,” I told the blushing teenager, sliding past to lead the mass of youngsters like goslings toward the door.

Behind me, the rustle of wings was met by a grunt of annoyance. Ever since inheriting Adena from my predecessor, I’d spent my evenings training her to land on shoulders when commanded. Surely the stranger would find it hard to pull and fire a pistol when weighed down by a two-foot-tall bird.

Of course, a perching raven wouldn’t stop a determined gunman. But my gut said this wasn’t a school shooter. This was a man reacting to past trauma by drawing upon his only available resource.

Or so I hoped. I couldn’t hear whether or not the gun emerged from its holster. Instead, Patricia was nose-to-nose with me now, her piercing voice overwhelming all other sounds.

“You said there was going to be a test!” she snapped. “Multiple choice. Easy peasy. It’s on the syllabus!”

“No, it’s not,” I countered. “If you’ll check again, you’ll notice the line in question says ‘TBD.’”

Immediately, three students began pulling up evidence on their cell phones. “TBA, actually,” reported the most pedantic of my followers. In reaction, Patricia raised her claws in preparation for tearing out his eyes.

I didn’t think she was angry enough to follow through on her threat, but these were my students. I was responsible for their wellbeing. So I threw myself between Patricia and the object of her ire…only to thud up against a huge body that had gotten there first.

A minute ago, I’d been positive Craggy Face was standing on the far side of the lecture hall. I’d felt his eyes like icy fingers running up and down my spine.

But I must have been mistaken. Because the man in question was now gripping Patricia’s shoulders in a manner that was entirely platonic but nonetheless went against the department’s code of ethics. His face was even more terrifyingly intent than it had been when I woke from my vision, angry russeting making the scar around his neck stand out in stark relief.

I think he even growled, a rumble that sounded more animalistic than human. Patricia had chosen the wrong day to mess around.

Which is exactly when Dr. Dick Duncan, department chair and pain in my ass, chose to stroll down the hall toward us. His eyebrows rose as he took in the scene in my classroom, and I could see my job disappearing without a trace.

***

Here’s what I’d learned about Dick during the semester he’d been my de-facto manager:

His area of expertise was Roman archaeology but I was pretty sure he hadn’t bothered to so much as skim new literature during the preceding decade. “Archaeology is all old,” he’d told me when I pressed him on the issue. “There’s nothing new under the sun.”

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the wispy-haired stick-in-the-mud had set himself up as my mentor when I first entered the department. Then he’d quickly turned against me when it became apparent I knew more than he did about modern field techniques.

“You weren’t what he expected,” our department secretary Suzy had explained last week as she and I chatted around the water cooler. “He thought a newly minted PhD—especially one as young as you are—wouldn’t be up to speed until his retirement. Then he’d look like a hero for molding such a perfect professor as his replacement. The trouble is, you’re already better at this gig than Dick was in his prime. Now he’s starting to look like an idiot in front of the rest of the staff.”

Worries about his professional reputation aside, the department head possessed all the power in our relationship. And the expression on his face when he took in the circus-like ruckus in my classroom resembled nothing so much as anticipatory glee.

I took a deep breath and channeled my father. “Mr. Wolf, take your hands off that student,” I barked, making up a name on the spot that seemed to match Craggy Face better than the moniker I’d been using for him previously. “Ms. Owens, the paper is due next week, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. This should be an easy assignment after everything you’ve learned in my class.”

If Patricia had been a dog, her ears would have pinned back and her tail would have tucked in submission. She wasn’t used to being yelled at, and I felt a little bad for taking her to task.

The huffed laugh from “Mr. Wolf,” however, reminded me that Patricia and I weren’t the only ones present. So I addressed the rest of the students in a slightly warmer manner, reminding them that my usual office hours would be shaken up during exam week. “If you have any questions,” I finished, “please don’t hesitate to email or call me. You know I’m always willing to help.”

Then they were gone. My pupils, the department chair, and every single one of the handouts. I’d printed three extra papers and there’d been two absent students, so simple arithmetic suggested there should have been five handouts left on the table. But…

“I’m pretty sure Apple Kid took the last handful to build into a shrine.”

That was Mr. Wolf, still very much present as he pushed himself further than he properly should have into my personal space. His scent enfolded me, mossy and enticing, and my skin tingled as if I’d been stroked…or wanted to be.

Yes. Pet us, whispered the monster deep in my belly. Shaken by the feeling I wasn’t entirely in control of my own internal dialogue, I forced my eyes aside to take my first proper look at the second man.

The gun was gone. Adena perched on his shoulder like a pirate’s parrot. But he didn’t appear at all piratical. Instead, the stark black bird added to the stranger’s handsomeness to turn him into a fairy-tale prince in appearance, all blond hair and blue eyes.

“Ma’am, I apologize for earlier,” he started. “I can assure you, nothing like that will ever happen again.”

I nodded absently. I’d known he wasn’t really dangerous—my monster had somehow smelled it on his breath.

“Apology accepted,” I answered. But my attention kept returning, like a heat-seeking missile, to the man with the saber-tooth fang around his neck.

***

“Now you’ll tell us where you went,” Mr. Wolf ordered, not bothering to turn his query into a question. His eyebrows were so dark they almost became a brow ridge when they V’ed downwards. But he was no Neanderthal. His eyes possessed the intensity of Homo sapiens sapiens and I got the distinct impression he was aware of the monster lurking beneath my skin.

Perhaps that’s why I started spitting out my secret. “I…the cave…” I answered without thinking, halting only when that familiar glimmer of disappointment rose behind his pupils.

Of course. Mentioning my visions wasn’t the way to assert my sanity.

Mad at myself for the slip, I turned to the other stranger as I tried to nudge them both out the door. “Can I help you? I assume you dropped by for a reason other than to draw a gun on my students?”

“That was a mistake, Dr. Blackburn,” Prince Charming started. Which is when I remembered he’d used my predecessor’s name the first time he’d spoken to me also.

These men didn’t want me. They wanted Dr. Frank Blackburn, who had died of a heart attack so close to the start of the semester that no one even bothered to clean out his office before I moved in. I’d inherited his classes, his bird, and apparently his problems in the form of these two intruders.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” I said, hating the fact that my voice quavered slightly. The trouble was, Mr. Wolf—still silent—continued circling me like a turkey vulture homing in on a piece of choice roadkill. At the moment, he was behind my back…and being unable to see him made me so twitchy it was all I could do to meet the speaker’s eyes.

“You’re not F. Blackburn?” Prince Suddenly-Not-So-Charming snapped, mouth pursing.

“I’m O. Hart,” I countered. “Frank died in his sleep over the summer. I took his place….”

Oops. That was more information than they likely needed or wanted. Plus, I couldn’t hold myself still any longer, not when I could have sworn I felt hot breath drifting across the nape of my neck.

Whirling, I found myself face to face with the larger stranger. Or, rather, face to scar-encircling-his-neck.

Click here to head straight to chapter 3.

Wolf Dreams: Chapter 1

(If you’re starting on this page, please click here to return to the beginning so you don’t miss any of the story.)

Fourteen years later….

Wolf Dreams“From the stunning renditions of horses in French and Spanish caves…” I started, only to pause as words drifted toward me from the fifth row of the audience at my Friday morning lecture.

“…walked out of the Peace Summit,” one student murmured, provoking a rustle of interest from those sitting nearby.

“Well, could you really blame them?” asked a young man who’d never once bothered to answer an in-class question. “I mean, our President acted like a hoodlum. He punched the guy. In the nose.

Of all the times for current events to pop the collegiate bubble, I would have preferred it not to happen right before final exams during my first semester in a tenure-track job. Of course, I couldn’t really blame the kids for their lack of attention. I’d been so shaken by the news this morning that I’d forgotten my meds for the first time in months.

Still, I was supposed to be the authority figure here. “Excuse me,” I said, pushing my glasses up on my nose then glaring into the cluster of chattering students. “As fascinating as political drama might be, this course is focused on the past, not the present.”

“Then you focus, Dr. Oblivia,” a third student countered. “We don’t care about caves on the last day of the semester.”

The earlier whispers had been a minor annoyance, but this was outright insubordination. No wonder my pet raven—Adena—squawked her ire from the far corner of the room. She spread her wings as if preparing to protect me and I raised one finger in warning, holding my breath until the raven’s ruffled feathers smoothed back down and her attention wandered toward the clouds outside.

Of course, the backtalking student took advantage of my distraction to continue with her tirade. “This is a class, not a wander through a museum. Tell us what’s going to be on the test.”

Patricia Owens—congressman’s kid and troublemaker from head to toe—was spiky with amusement. She had classic good looks combined with edgy modern style, and she used the combination like a duelist’s sword. Now, rather than fading beneath my scowl as any right-minded twenty-two-year-old should have, she raised her eyebrows and glowered back.

No wonder the monster inside me surged awake the moment our gazes made contact. Images of teeth and blood and submissive students flooded my interior landscape, and I clenched my fists to push back the horror.

Clearing my throat, I used words rather than releasing my inner monster. “Ms. Owens,” I started. “If your sole interest lies with the test, please pick up a copy of the handout by the door on your way out and leave the rest of us in peace.”

Then I clicked to the next slide in my PowerPoint presentation, trying to ignore the way my vision tunneled even as a hum buzzed angrily through my mind. Here it came—part two of the craziness. First the monster, then the trance.

Clutching the podium, I whispered a silent rebuke to my brain chemistry: Not now. The department chair was just waiting to catch a slip in classroom protocol so he could write me up.

In desperation, I shot a glance at the ringleader of all my teaching problems. If she was sitting, the monster would subside and the vision would fade along with it….

Patricia had risen so she could sling a messenger bag across one shoulder. And that did it. The monster grabbed me. I’ll make her sit, it started.

No, wait, I countered, terrified by the way my muscles bunched without permission.

Then the trance responded by slapping us both into submission. The monster subsided and I fell backwards into the silence and the dark.

***

Okay, so perhaps silence was a bit of an overstatement. Sunlight was obscured by overhanging earth and rock, so even the drip of distant water became as loud as a roaring school bus. My feet scraped against pebbles while my breath echoed in the enclosed chamber. And my hand moved without conscious volition to uncover a smoldering coal housed within a tallow-filled lamp.

Light emerged slowly as the body I inhabited fed moss into the minuscule fire. I was here, but not here. Present inside this woman, but unable to do anything other than watch her actions unfold.

The first time this had happened, I’d been terrified. A mere child, I’d thought myself transported into a nightmare and had spent the entire trance struggling to get back out again. Now, though, I was an adult obsessed with archaeology. I could do nothing to hasten my return to the modern world, so I relaxed and took in every wonderful vision as a many-thousand-year-old cave painting gradually flickered into life.

Red and black animals danced across the rock wall before me. Today it was horses, so many horses, with one big bison smack dab in the center. It looked similar to the French cave I’d visited on a research expedition one year earlier, but with different paintings covering the curved and irregular walls.

Even though I knew this experience was merely my imagination playing tricks on me, I began taking mental notes the way I always did. Perfect curves made the animals lifelike, overlapping legs gave the illusion of three dimensions….

Distantly, I knew that my living body would be catatonic and terrifying to my students back in the lecture hall. Distantly, I accepted the psychiatrists’ assessment that these visions were nothing more than a rehashing of materials I’d pored over and studied ever since becoming obsessed with archaeology as a kid.

I knew all this…yet I didn’t care what I was missing in the real world as I gazed greedily at images that both did and didn’t match current scientific knowledge. My hands were speckled with red ochre—the cave person’s favorite pigment. Words I didn’t understand tripped off the woman’s tongue. Then she sucked up a mouthful of paint in preparation for spitting it back out onto the rock face.

Meanwhile, her hand rose to clasp fingers around the eight-inch-long fang that had hung around her neck for as long as I’d been visiting. As always, this single jarring element pushed me out of the daydream. “Saber-tooth cats are from the Americas,” I protested. “This type of cave art was made in Europe.”

Only then did I realize I was speaking aloud, the cave flickering away as a bevy of worried students clustered around me. Meanwhile, tapping against my forehead, was the exact same tooth I’d worn a moment earlier, this time threaded onto a modern metal chain.

***

“Dr. Blackburn, are you alright?”

The name being spoken wasn’t mine, but I didn’t swivel to correct the speaker behind me. Instead, it was the silent man attached to the fang that snagged my attention and refused to let it go.

Unlike the body I’d recently inhabited, this tooth bearer was male instead of female. His features were craggy, his gaze so piercing it made me shiver despite the room’s sub-tropical heat. And was that a thin but very obvious scar completely encircling his neck?

Vaguely, I noted another stranger roughly the same age—early thirties—moving forward as if to assist me. This was the speaker, the one who was even now attempting to create a pocket of breathing space with me at its center. I appreciated the gesture and might have settled back into it if the chatter of surrounding students hadn’t spurred me into action.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“What happened? I wasn’t looking…”

“Somebody call 911.”

Hospital visits never led in good directions. My father had lost faith in my ability to amount to anything after one memorable hospital visit. It wasn’t such a long shot to think the university might come to the same conclusion if my boss realized I popped three-times-a-day, maximum-dose anxiety meds to silence the voices in my head.

So I found my way to my feet and stepped away from the man who hovered above me. Then I raised my voice and regained control of the class.

“Nobody call 911,” I countered, forcing out a laugh that sounded like a mix between a pack-a-day smoker and the last gasp of an ailing hyena. “That embarrassing display of brain freeze was simply the result of low blood sugar. If you learn nothing else from my class, please write this down—always eat a complete breakfast before going to work.”

I think I actually saw someone recording my words of wisdom at the edge of the mob of students, so I didn’t blame the craggy-faced stranger for his snort. This was the most amusing part about being a professor. At my best, these students thought I was some combination of their mother and an all-knowing soothsayer. It was only when I assigned homework that certain students lost the rose-tinted glasses they usually perched on the bridge of their nose.

Right now, unfortunately, I was far from my best, and rose-tinted glasses were in short supply in the classroom. Which meant it was time to truncate the final lecture and send these students away with the handout I’d offered to the class’s least pleasant member a few moments before.

“It’s been a pleasure teaching all of you,” I lied. “Have a wonderful holiday. Grab a paper from the stack on your way out.”

I tensed, fully expecting some reaction to the bombshell waiting for them on those handouts. But I wasn’t prepared for the volume of Patricia’s shriek.

Neither, apparently, were the strangers in my classroom. Because even as Patricia bellowed her disapproval of the final exam changing into a five-page paper, the more ordinary of the two men yanked aside his suit jacket, hand landing on a pistol that gleamed dully from a holster beneath his armpit.

Click here to head straight to chapter 2.

Wolf Dreams: Prologue

Olivia HartAre you ready to dive into a brand new adventure? Meet Olivia in this excerpt from Wolf Dreams….

***

Do you remember your first date? The rush of excitement. The fumbling awkwardness. The way the boy bent down for a kiss, prompting your teeth to bite all the way through his cheek.

The blood. The ensuing faintness that progressed into a prehistoric vision. The visit to the emergency room. The awfulness when your father arrived to pick you up.

Okay, maybe my experience wasn’t precisely average. Normal is not my middle name.

“Olivia Nicole Hart!” my father raged as he took in the red streaks smearing my face and the wildness of my dilated pupils. His hand lashed out just shy of striking me, and that danger provided my inner monster permission to steal my body a second time.

Don’t touch us, she hissed, her voice raspy within the confines of my body. Then she leapt at him—I mean, I leapt at him. Sometimes it’s confusing when my body does things I don’t ask it to do.

But it was my manicured fingernails that scraped a long welt of red down the side of my father’s cheek and neck. It was my teeth that bared as if they intended to rip out his throat.

Blackness hovered around me, the vision attempting to pull me under before I could commit patricide. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I housed a monster, I lost my entire grasp on reality every time the beast came to call.

But my father was ready for me. “Get in the car,” he demanded, voice so cold my feet scurried to obey him. And, just like that, monster and vision both released their holds.

I shivered as I attempted to clean up their messes ten minutes later. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered as we drove out of the city. I’d used up half a box of Kleenexes wiping blood off my body, but I still felt like I’d been rolling around in offal. “I didn’t mean to.”

“The doctors warned us what would happen if you didn’t take your medicine.” My father—or Dr. Hart, as he preferred to be called—didn’t bother turning down the radio while he berated me. Didn’t take his eyes off the road as he pulled the hated pill bottle out of his pocket and tossed it into my lap.

It landed with the weight of lost potential. The promise of dulling the world to protect me from my own animal nature.

No, my monster growled. Starbursts flickered at the corners of my vision.

Take two,” my father demanded.

I twisted off the lid and swallowed them dry.

Click here to head straight to chapter 1.

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