Forever Claimed
Wolves of East Anglia - 2
by
Marisa Chenery
Chapter One
Having a few thousand dollars in lottery winnings, Kamryn had used the money to take that trip overseas she'd dreamed about for years. She'd arrived in Norwich, England that afternoon and had slept most of the day away since her body was still on Niagara Falls time. Now early evening, she'd decided to go for a walk and see a bit of the town. Leaving her hotel, Kamryn strolled along the sidewalk with no real destination in mind. She planned to be here for two weeks. The long flight to get here and then sleeping most of the daylight hours away had already eaten into the first day of her vacation. Anxious but excited, she continued. This was also the first time she'd been out of the States.
She walked past a busy pub, not stopping to go inside. She would have to experience a pub before she left England, but she wasn't in the mood to sit alone inside one right now. The evening was nice, and she'd been cooped up, first inside an airplane for hours and then inside her hotel room. She needed the fresh air more than she needed to 'have a pint', as the British say.
Walking down one street and then another, Kamryn soon found herself on a rather quiet avenue fronting a fenced-in community park. Twilight was deepening into night, but streetlights were enough for her to see by, and she still had time to investigate the park before she thought it best to return to her hotel.
A short distance before she reached the gated entrance, a man raced past her, roughly jostling her out of his way. Kamryn recovered, watching him disappear into the park. She slowed her steps, having second thoughts about going inside, after all. Not knowing what the man ran from, she didn't exactly want to meet up inside the fenced-in area in the dark.
That decided, Kamryn turned to go back the way she'd come and found herself literally knocked on her ass as a second man barreled into her. Knowing she would feel this come morning, she lifted her gaze, feeling a bit shaken by the enormous size of the man who hovered over her.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to plow into you like that. Are you all right?"
As she looked him fully in the face, her gaze settled more intently on him. Not only had he knocked her on her ass, but also he'd left her speechless. Holding an expression of concern, his hazel eyes gazed at her from a ruggedly handsome face.
Kamryn ran her gaze from the brown hair that reached the collar of his black leather jacket down to his well-muscled body. He towered over her. She had a feeling he would dwarf her five-foot-four frame by at least a foot even if she was standing at her full height.
He stuck out his hand. "Here, let me help you up. Are you hurt?"
After a long minute still on her ass, Kamryn found her voice. "Ah . . . ah, I'm okay. I think my pride's hurt more than anything."
She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Yup, he towered over her.
Kamryn found her gaze, once again, skimming over his face, taking in his straight nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, and his square jaw. The man was gorgeous. And his deep British accent made her wonder if it got deeper and huskier when he took a woman to bed. Talk about a turn on. Actually, just staring at him was turning her on.
Since he still held her hand, she wondered what he might do if she tightened her grip and yanked him closer so she could kiss those firm lips. In reaction to her thoughts, she licked her own.
Kamryn gave herself a mental shake. If she didn't snap out of it, she was sure he would think she wasn't entirely all there.
"Good. I'm glad you weren't hurt." His gaze moved to the direction the other man had run and then back to her. He shifted on his feet, almost as if he was reluctant to leave. But when a howl ripped through the still night around them, he stiffened. "I apologize for knocking you over." Another howl reached their ears. "I . . . I have to go.
Sorry."
He then did the strangest thing. Using their joined hands, he yanked her closer and bent, burying his nose in the crook of her neck. After taking a deep breath, as if he inhaled her scent, he released her and took off running in the direction of the park.
Kamryn watched as he rounded the corner and disappeared through the park gate. Unsure about his odd behavior, she continued on her way. Although she probably would never see him again, that didn't stop her from memorizing what he looked like . . . just in case.
Algar put on a burst of speed once he picked up the werewolf's scent. If he was lucky, the bastard would still be in the park. It was Algar's job to put him down. All werewolves sired by Fenris were considered prey. A werewolf himself, he was nothing like those spawned by Fenris, who found pleasure in killing and turning innocent mortals.
Slowing as another howl ripped through the night, Algar drew in a deep breath.
He turned in the direction of the scent trail left behind. Though he was hot on the beast's trail, Algar found it hard to concentrate. The woman's scent still lingered in his nose. It seemed to have etched itself on his brain, not letting him forget. Not that he wanted to. He'd found himself drawn to her the second their eyes met. He'd almost forgotten what he'd been doing before he'd plowed into her.
With no mortals around, Algar willed his sword into his hand. A sense of impatience washed through him. He wanted to take out his prey and then see if he could find the woman again. She had an American accent; was she a tourist, or had she just relocated her from the States? He had a sense of urgency to finish his business and find her again. Who knew how long she'd be here? He didn't want to let her slip through his fingers. The feel of her hand in his had been enough to make his cock go rock hard. He hadn't been able to stop himself from burying his nose in her neck, which made him ache for her even more. The mental picture of her grey eyes, her long black hair, and her slim, curvy body roused his wolf along with his lust.
A loud growl sounded to his left. Algar swung around, his sword raised, in time to see his prey shift into werewolf form—half-human and half-wolf. The beast snapped his teeth at Algar and swiped the air in front of him with his claws.
Algar shifted quickly, willing his clothes away as he did. He grew taller while his muscles became bulkier. Covered in brown fur, the same color as his hair, he swished his tail behind him. The sword he held, the blade a mix of steel and silver, was lethal to all of Fenris' get. All it took to end their existence was one strike through the heart.
"Come on. Let's end this," Algar said in a voice deeper and gruffer than if he'd been in his human form. Retaining the ability of speech also set Algar apart from werewolves sired by Fenris. His prey lost that ability when they shifted.
With a loud snarl, the werewolf launched itself at Algar and tried to knock the sword out of his hand. Ready for such a move, Algar batted the beast's claws away as he struck with his weapon, catching the werewolf across the stomach. The creature let out a howl as its flesh sizzled from the silver.
When the beast went on the attack, Algar moved in for the kill. He ignored the sharp claws raking down his arm and plunged his sword through the werewolf's heart.
He pushed it away; the creature fell to the ground dead.
To get rid of the corpse, he called out to the Sky Father as he looked into the night sky. "Tiw, I call upon you. I have need of your fire."
A second later, blue god-fire engulfed the body of the werewolf. As the flames burned hot and bright, the body turned to ash and blew away on an unnatural wind.
Nothing was left behind. Not even a scorch mark showed on the grass where the beast had fallen.
His prey no more, Algar shifted back to his human form. The bloody claw marks down the length of his arm instantly healed during the change. Willing his sword away, he walked out of the park.