Brynjar – Freki Wolf Clan Series Book 3

When her wolf is freed, the balance of power will shift—for good or evil.

Sable begs to be allowed to help the Freki repel a daemon invasion. Instead, she’s sent off to the one place she hoped never to see again. The Vuk clan’s mansion. Years ago, her scheming mother offered her in betrothal to the Vuk heir, only to be soundly rejected. Yet even as Sable packs her bags, the tall, handsome Brynjar Vuk is never far from her thoughts. Neither is the creeping feeling that something isn’t right.

Brynjar isn’t ready for a mate. His life is too complicated, a fact he knew years ago when he laughed off the parents of a seven-year-old bride prospect. But when the warm, addictive scent of an unshifted female stops him in his tracks, he realizes the inevitable. He’s on the edge of mating burn. And that child—Sable—has grown into a smart, funny, luscious woman. His fated mate.

But there’s more than disparity in rank that challenges their deep, sensual bond. There’s an unnatural reason Sable’s wolf hasn’t emerged. She is the centerpiece of a tangled scheme of ambition, unholy alliances, and hunger for power that threatens not only her survival, but their world as they know it.

Brynjar…

I need you.

The gentle voice whispered in his ear. Reaching out in the dream, he could almost hold Sable’s beautiful form in his arms.

Help me…

He frowned. Once again, unseen hands pulled her from him into a dark void. This was no new dream. He should know how to hold her next to him.

“Wait. I’m here. Let me help,” he called out, extending his arms to her, but a wall of flames blocked his path to her. His hands caught on fire. He yelled in pain…

Fully alert and slapping at the imaginary flames burning his flesh and clothes, he leapt out of bed. “What the hell was that?” he muttered. The familiar darkness and objects in his room greeted him, but the distress he’d felt in the dream wouldn’t let go. Tragedy had struck somewhere. He felt it deep in his bones. But who? Where?

“I see a red glow up in the mountains. It’s not the rising sun,” Themis spoke in his mind. “I’m on my way to you. Get dressed. Meet me out front.”

“What did you see?”

“You’re wasting time with questions,” she replied, sterner than usual. “I’ll be there in moments.”

He changed into his flying gear and ran down the long hallways, short of sprinting, to catch up with Themis. Offering multiple excuses, he zigzagged past the mansion staff, busy with early morning preparations. He made it to the portico’s balcony overlooking the front gardens. Below, an impatient Themis dug at the grass with her huge talons. Aleksander would be livid when he noticed the bald spots and pits his son’s gryphon had made on his pristine lawns.

Brynjar didn’t give a shit, and his father better not bitch at him about Themis and her habits.

“Let’s go,” Themis urged.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, ran out, and jumped onto her back. With a thunderous flap of wings, she took to the air, just as he managed to secure himself on the saddle.

As Themis continued her ascent, he had a moment to think: Sable’s call, the dream sequence, and the wall of fire stopping him came back. He glanced at his palms and gasped at their reddish appearance and the acute pain on his skin. Almost as if fire still consumed him.

All fake. All part of a dream. All part of a… Warning.

Now, his stomach plummeted with panic, and he feared to say out loud the question troubling his mind.

“I don’t know for sure.” Themis’s reply saved him the anguish of asking. “Sable’s not in my line of sight. You two have to bond before I can detect her presence. But…”

“But what?” he insisted.

“Jaggard’s village is on fire. I can tell you that…”