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    Winter's Run
    Winter's Run
    Winter's Run
    Ebook134 pages2 hours

    Winter's Run

    By Cristina Grenier

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Colin Rivers is dying.


    Determined to find peace in the time he has left, Colin retreats to his cabin home deep within the Georgia Mountains. He’s looking forward to some much needed rest and relaxation, but he gets anything but when he accidentally shoots Rosalind Winters.


    Rosalind is hiding something. Something big. Something with teeth, and fur, and enough violence to huff and puff and blow his world apart. Every touch and kiss they share makes it harder and harder for him to let her go. Eventually Colin will have to choose between life and giving up everything it means to be human to save the woman he’s grown to love.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMonster Media LLC
    Release dateMay 28, 2014
    ISBN9781631560149
    Winter's Run

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      Book preview

      Winter's Run - Cristina Grenier

      Publisher’s Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

      Copyright © 2013 Monster Media LLC

      Chapter 1: Death and Dishonor

      Rosalind and Emma grew up together.

      They’d gone on their first dates together.

      Went through the trials and tribulations of puberty together.

      And when the time came, they Shifted, for the first time, together.

      Rosalind wasn’t sure what the world would look like, what it would taste and feel like, without Emma in it. Until one day, she simply wasn’t any longer and Rosalind was forced, rather abruptly, to learn. On the day of Emma’s funeral, Rosalind found herself staring at her own reflection.  She wasn’t accustomed to feeling self-conscious so the sensation went unidentified as she bit her lip and turned first one way and then the other. Examining herself with a critical eye and a frown marring her caramel colored skin.

      The room she’d slept in since she was a little girl felt strange somehow. Foreign, now that Emma wasn’t right down the hallway. Rosalind tried not to think about it as she straightened the hem of her black dress. She was unused to wearing human clothes. They were too restraining. As a result her fashion sense wasn’t much to brag about. Emma had always lamented about the fact that Rosalind dressed like an old woman, but they were the only clothes that fit loose enough to suit her. Everything else made her feel as if she were about to suffocate.

      If going to the funeral naked had been an option, Rosalind would have jumped on it. But humans would be there. In addition to being the Pack Master’s daughter, Emma had also worked as a schoolteacher. Her former students would be in attendance, as well as some of her colleagues and other human friends from town.

      Rosalind didn’t like humans.

      They smelled funny and they were always loud.

      In fact, if it hadn’t been for the humans, a funeral wouldn’t have taken place at all.

      The Pack would have simply eaten Emma’s body and lamented her passing with a midnight run. While Rosalind would have preferred the Pack’s way, she knew that she wouldn’t have been invited to join in. The only reason she was able to say goodbye to Emma today rather than running as far and as fast as possible, was because her best friend and Pack sister had asked her to carry out her last wish.

      The Pack had never accepted Rosalind.

      After today, Rosalind would be lucky if they even let her live.

      But she had promised Emma.

      And she always kept her promises.

      Always.

      ***

      Human funerals were strange affairs. People sat in chairs and stared at the dead body of their loved one while they wept. An older gentleman who didn’t know the deceased then read passages from a book that was somehow supposed to describe the person’s life. Rosalind would have preferred simply eating Emma and knew that her friend felt the same way. Luckily Rosalind didn’t have to speak with anyone there. She thought that had a lot to do with the fact that Emma’s father, Christopher, did what he could to keep her away from anyone who wasn’t pack.

      Rosalind appreciated his intervention because she didn’t like humans, but she knew that he acted on her behalf not because he cared for her but because he was ashamed of her. She was a black sheep, a liability. She had grown up knowing that her place in the Pack was somewhere below rock bottom, and she’d learned to accept it. There was no point in bitterness after all, it was just the way that things were.

      She was relieved when it was all over. Afterwards they all headed back to the estate for a pack meeting. Which was expected now that Christopher no longer had an heir. His wife had been dead for many years, so it wasn’t as if he could expect more offspring. Not unless he was willing to find another mate. Usually Pack events were held outdoors in the surrounding woods, but tonight Christopher seemed especially solemn. They filed, one by one, into the living room of the house the main members shared, and waited for their Alpha to speak what was on his mind.

      As you know, he began, Emma was meant to take my place as Pack Master one day. He swallowed thickly. Now that she’s gone, that position will need to fall to someone else. He would check first for volunteers, and then he would choose his own candidates. Then, he would have them fight one another. The man/woman left standing would take their new position in the pack. Christopher believed in force, violence, and the old adage that only the strong were meant to survive (which is why he hated Rosalind so much). His only concession to that rule had been Emma, and now that she was dead he was going to try and get an heir who could live up to his standards.

      He opened his mouth to continue, but before he could say anything Rosalind stood and cleared her throat. He didn’t even bother hiding the sneer that transformed his face. At his expression several pack members snickered, and some even turned to stare at her coldly. For the first time she felt a sense of satisfaction rather than terror for what she was about to do.

      Christopher Pierce. She began solemnly. I challenge you as Pack Master.

      His eyes narrowed and slowly as Rosalind looked around the room, the eyes of her pack members began to glow with rage. Christopher lowered his head and looked at her from beneath his brows. A threat.

      What the hell did you just say to me?

      Rosalind licked her lips and straightened her spine. Staring him straight in the eye to make her intentions loud and clear. I challenge you. She said again. You don’t deserve to be Master of this Pack any longer. Tears filled her eyes. After what you did to Emma, you don’t even deserve to live.

      His expression didn’t change but she saw something inn his eyes, some dark knowledge that told her he knew exactly what she was talking about. He snarled and bared his teeth.

      I’ll kill you.

      Rosalind hissed at him feeling her teeth sharpen like points even as her own eyes lit up like green gems. Not unless I kill you first.

      ***

      Colin Rivers was a widower.

      Ever since his wife died that seemed to be his most distinguishing feature.

      People no longer knew him as the photojournalist or avid hunter.

      They didn’t see him as a person. As a man.

      He was just the ‘widower’.

      An object of pity.

      Colin had always prided himself as being a survivor. It’s why he’d chosen the profession that he had. Not only was he one hell of a photographer he didn’t mind a little danger. Lucille had died two years prior and as a result Colin had thrown himself into his work. He’d moved from the city to a small cabin tucked away in the mountains of north Georgia. Focused on his career rather than cultivating a relationship with family and friends. Work didn’t help fill the void that Lucille had left behind, but it helped him forget about it. Sometimes he could go months, years even, without thinking about all the things he was missing out on. Things like love and companionship.

      It wasn’t until a few months ago, after he’d gotten a call from his doctor, that he’d decided to slow things down a bit.

      Smell the roses.

      Live life.

      Now that he was dying, he was going to try and live his life to the fullest again.

      The irony was not lost on him.

      Even now, he found himself smiling slightly at the reminder that his time on this earth was going to be cut short. If anything, the knowledge had made him a better photographer. He was able to capture a life, a beauty, in his photos that had been missing before. In the past it had been a precise science. Now it was more of an art.

      Colin sighed, crouching with his camera in hand so that he could capture a perspective shot. His photography was his therapy now and he visited the woods almost every day to indulge in it. The first few times he’d gone out he’d heard the cry of wolves. Far too close to his cabin for comfort. Ever since then, he’d gotten in the habit of carrying his rifle with him on these excursions. He was a good enough shot that he’d figured he’s be able to handle it if any wolves tried to give him trouble.

      One of the perks of being raised a country boy he supposed.

      He could take out a full grown buck at over a hundred yards. Right through the eye so that a bullet hole wouldn’t mar the meat or ruin the coat for skinning. He’d been living in the city for nearly 13 years and yet he still remembered everything his father had taught him about hunting as if it were only yesterday. Funny the things you remember when you step foot back onto familiar ground.

      He took a couple of more photographs before turning to head back down the trail. It was growing late. Usually he didn’t like staying out once the sun set since it would be asking for trouble. But he’d been feeling weaker than usual today. It had made him slower, clumsier, and he’d been too stubborn to just turn around and head back home. He wasn’t dead yet and he refused to let a little lightheadedness ruin such a beautiful day. But as he walked along the trail back towards home he couldn’t help but feeling run down. He tripped more than once, and though he urged himself to

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