Never Cry Wolf: Howls Romance (Sentinel Brotherhood Series Book 3) Read online

  Marianne Morea

  Coventry Press Limited

  Coventry Press Ltd.

  Somers, New York

  http://www.coventrypressltd.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Marianne Morea

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions of thereof in any form whatsoever without written permission.

  ASIN:

  First Edition: Coventry Press Ltd. 2020

  Printed in the USA

  “Happiness is a gift, and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it when it comes.”

  ~Charles Dickens

  Chapter One

  Gabrielle Sancier rolled over, sliding one arm under her pillows. Sleep eluded her tonight, the same way it had for the past week. Her cellphone sat against the night table lamp, its clock ticking off the hours, one sluggish minute at a time. Three am, and her restlessness wouldn’t let her…well, rest.

  Lace sheers fluttered in the open window, and the hoot of an owl in the distance punctuated how she felt.

  She was in over her head.

  “Okay, Mr. Owl…I got to the candy center and enjoyed every lick. What do I do now?”

  Bunching her pillows together, she cradled her head against a dull ache between her neck and her shoulders

  Ugh. “This brooding is for the birds.” The owl hooted again, and she closed her eyes with a tired chuckle. “No offense, feather face.”

  Not that she had time to brood. Not during the day, anyway, and not since meeting blood witch, Capiria Byrd, last month in New Orleans.

  One month. Who would’ve thought a single life could change so drastically in so little time? And who would’ve thought all this crazy would land her back in Montreal as part of a ragtag coven?

  They were at Chateau Laval on the eastern shore of Lac des deux Montagnes, forty-five minutes from Montreal city, but a whole world away.

  Gabrielle punched her pillow, rolling over again. Bourbon Street was 1,600 miles away. As was her job bartending at the Absinthe House. It’s where she met her demonologist best friend, Raven Montgomery.

  Ray was the one with the fancy degrees and academic accolades. She, on the other hand, barely graduated college. So how did they both end up here? At a chateau straight out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

  The answer? Men.

  Sex-on-a-stick wolf shifters, to be precise.

  She exhaled. As sexy and spontaneous as that sounded, it was much more complicated than that. Which was why she couldn’t sleep.

  Gabby hadn’t crossed the border back into Canada since her family moved to the States fifteen years ago. They settled in her mother’s home town in upstate New York, and then like most senior citizens, her parents retired to Florida. She followed them south, but to New Orleans, instead.

  Her father never understood her fascination with the Big Easy. Still, she didn’t give two figs for him or his opinion. Since her mom died, they barely spoke.

  With its history and innate magic, New Orleans called to her as if calling her home. Since meeting Capiria and the others, she finally understood why.

  No one in her family guessed her unusual abilities. To be honest, they weren’t interested in what her jerk of a father called paranormal mumbo jumbo. So Gabby kept her intuitive, and sometimes clairvoyant nature to herself, sparing her mother the sordid details she both saw and felt, courtesy of daddy dearest and his smarmy, extramarital activities.

  Being an empath was cool. Not quite a witch, but a kissing cousin. Or so she thought.

  “So you think you’re an empath.” Capiria cocked her head, studying Gabrielle. “I think there’s more to you than that…an empath is not just about reading the joys and woes of the world. An empath is a witch whose potential was stymied.”

  The elder witch sensed her latent magic within a day of their first meeting. Of course, the old woman promptly turned into the Wicked Witch of the South, drill sergeant style. Making it her personal mission to rectify Gabrielle’s stalled paranormal nature.

  Gabby’s brain was near bursting with everything Capiria pounded into her head this month. Still, she was the one who asked, and the old witch delivered. There was a definite method to the woman’s madness.

  “Hell, no, you crazy old witch! Can’t you hear that thunder?” Lightning cracked seconds later, illuminating the sky like a strobe light. “It’s directly overhead!”

  Wind lashed, bending the trees to near snapping. “Good! Lift your hands, Gabrielle. Call the lightning the way I taught you. My hunch is you were born for this. And my hunches are never wrong.”

  “It’s too dangerous!”

  “Trust yourself. You know you have the power, now use it! Control the flash. Call it. Direct it into the water.”

  “No! What if someone’s out there? It’ll kill them.”

  “Then send it into the sand!” Capiria was barely five feet tall, but she stood behind Gabby, shoving her toward the edge of the beach.

  Even now, Gabrielle’s skin prickled remembering the connection. The hair on her arms and legs stood on end, and her blonde hair glowed as if lit from within.

  Fighting the strength and pull of the charge, she harnessed the current gathering in the sky. Like slippery, stinging satin caressing her skin before she thrust it out, directing it to the beach.

  “I knew it!” The old witch’s grin made her gnome-like under her old-fashioned rain bonnet. “You’re an Elemental!” She giggled, doing a strange little dance. “Harnessing lightning is one of the hardest tests, and you did it without breaking a sweat! Come, let’s see what the Goddess left you in reply.” She grabbed Gabby’s hand, tugging her out onto the sand. “Welcome to your new world, witchy girl!”

  Rain poured, pelting her skin with little stings as they rushed across the wet beach. The old witch grinned when they reached the mysterious white glass still steaming from the bolt. It resembled a human nerve cluster, imbued with an almost imperceptible charge.

  That was a week ago.

  She was an Elemental Witch. Earth. Fire. Water. Air. With her powers strengthened at night, especially under a full moon. A Lunar Elemental.

  If only her magic could’ve stopped her father from hurting her mom. Still, there was no fix for that kind of selfish. The bastard cheated on her mom, but he cheated himself out of a family and a daughter’s love.

  Eying the strange white glass on her dresser, she smirked to herself. Maybe she’d fry his philandering ass with a personalized bolt. Or flood his oceanfront condo with a mini tsunami.

  She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees over her summer weight duvet. This past month…this past week, really, her life had taken such a right-angle turn, her head reeled. And it wasn’t over. She glanced at her bedroom door and the hall bathroom just beyond.

  Nope, not over by a long shot.

  Fate decides in her time, Gabs. Leaving us to deal with the fall out in ours.

  Whatever, Ray. You do fate your way, and I’ll do fate mine.

  Raven laughed at her friend. You don’t DO fate, Gabs. Fate does YOU.

  Gabby leaned her chin on her knees. Ray was her best friend, but they were polar opposites. If Raven wanted to play chess with destiny, that was her choice. Waiting for an old crone to decide which cosmic strings to pull was not her idea of a good time.
r />   Fate.

  Still, it provided a reason for their very complicated situation. Did fate steer Raven and her demon-hunter ass to play magical matchmaker that day in New Orleans? Or was that just Ray being Ray?

  Come out to the lake, cher. It’s too hot in the Quarter. Plus, the wolf shifter I’m bumping uglies with has a hot cousin custom made for you! Oh, and make sure to pack holy water and salt. You know, just in case…demons.

  What Raven didn’t tell her, well…not fully, was she, and her sexy wolf lover, were involved in the demon-hunting case of the century. Hottie cousin, included. Hottie cousin, Luke Laval.

  Gabrielle smiled to herself, stretching cat-like under the covers.

  Holy Howl at the Moon!

  Luke and the rest of his wolfy clan could fill a Hot Guys Calendar and then some, with him as the center spread. Just the thought of him sent butterflies winging straight to her sex. She’d never felt anything like it before. Her body actually ached for the man. He was her own personal drug, and she was completely addicted.

  Gabrielle dropped her forearm over her eyes. It tingled like hell, but she was too preoccupied to care. Pulling her knees into her chest, rolled to the side to watch moonlight dance on her bedroom wall.

  Chateau Laval was Luke’s family estate. His father, Gregory, was the alpha of the Montreal pack, one-third of an overall clan that sustained the Sentinel Brotherhood. An elite force responsible for protecting their world against supernatural attack, especially the demonic kind.

  Everyone was polite, but she wasn’t sure she, or any outsiders, were actually welcome. They weren’t tenderfoots, the shifter term for humans, but their magical status didn’t score any points. They were simply the witchy brigade signed on to help the clan against a cunning and nearly invisible enemy.

  Capiria must have sensed the tension, and requested the small guesthouse closer to the water and the woods, for her and the witches. Less distraction away from the main house, but it was more than that. Capiria chalked it up to overall tension, but she wasn’t so sure.

  The small, stone guesthouse with its quaint slate roof and peaked gables reminded her of the buildings on Rue Jacques Cartier, where she lived as a child. Still, it had a large courtyard and a garden that edged the surrounding forest. Lots of places to lose yourself and think. Or lose yourself with someone whose sexy smile made you want to rip the clothes from your body.

  “Don’t grin at me like that.”

  “Like what?” Luke smirked, and his trademark crooked grin making her lower belly jump.

  “With your ‘the better to eat you with, my dear,’ look. It gives you an unfair advantage.”

  Luke’s eyes darkened with tiny flecks of gold. His smile deepened, dangerous and utterly sexy. “Unfair?” He walked her backwards, until her back pressed against a wide oak tree. “If I eat you, then you’re the one who benefits. You come like rockets, but I’m left hard enough to cut diamonds…”

  Gabby shivered at the sexy memory playing across her mind, but more at knowing she never left the man unsatisfied. How could she? Her knees went weak just looking at him. Luke was everything her fanciful imagination dreamt about. A hot wolf shifter with an accent that made everything sound sinfully sexy.

  Tall and dark, with deep set eyes that smoldered, Luke was all lean muscle, and when he walked, it was with a sinuous, yet predatory, grace. She still couldn’t believe fate threw them together.

  It was a coincidence, right? Just as it was a coincidence Raven hooked up with Aiden Durant, Alpha of the New York pack and head of the Sentinel Brotherhood. Or that his brother, Jared, hooked up with a blood witch, Tanya Richards.

  If it’s just a coincidence, then why are you all here?

  She ignored the question she’d been asking herself since New Orleans. This was an adventure. Like living an episode of Supernatural with her own personal Dean Winchester. Now it was so real it scared her. Not being a witch, and not the fight she signed on to help win. It was more personal than that. Much more.

  Life had taken a complicated-on-so-many-levels, right-angle shift that left her head spinning. Since the day Raven invited her out to Lake Pontchartrain, she was caught in a whirlwind of revelations.

  Whirlwind.

  It was the only word that fit.

  Meeting Luke was a whirlwind within the whirlwind. It was so easy. The plan was to get him alone, and make the most of their weirdo weekend, and then go home.

  “Where is everyone?” Gabrielle walked into the kitchen, with its oversized windows overlooking Lake Pontchartrain.

  Luke stood at the counter making a sandwich big enough to choke a horse. “After what happened this morning? My bet is toes up, resting.” Knife in hand, he looked up with a sexy, crooked grin. “Or toes curled. If I know my cousins, Aiden and Jared are with their respective mates, letting off a little steam.”

  She nodded, turning to look out at the water. Steam. Luke was that and more, and whether it was sheer luck or fate, the two had the house and the beach to themselves for the time being.

  “This place is amazing,” she said turning quickly from the window. “Katrina did so much damage, it’s nice to see the house survived.”

  He nodded, stacking thin slices of tomato onto his sandwich. “It didn’t. Alain built this place after the hurricane. This is my first visit, though Aiden and Jared have been here a few times. I’m busy with my pack, just outside Montreal.” He shrugged. “It’s hard finding time to travel when you’re the next alpha.”

  “I guess that means your father is the current alpha.”

  Luke chuckled softly. “And I’m guessing Raven didn’t tell you much about who we are or what’s been happening.”

  “Bits and pieces, but no. Not really.”

  He nodded again. “In this house, you’ve got elders, heirs and spares. Alain is our resident elder, and the alpha of the pack here in New Orleans. After their father’s death, Aiden took over as alpha of the pack in New York, with his brother Jared as his second.”

  “Are you all cousins?”

  “Nope. We come from different packs, but we’re all members of the same clan. If that makes any sense. We make up the Sentinel Brotherhood, or at least part of it. Aiden isn’t just the alpha of his pack, he’s also the head of our brotherhood. From what you witnessed just today, I’m sure you realize we’re in a serious fight.”

  His French-Canadian accent was delicious and sexy, despite his grave words.

  “I do. And since I haven’t left skid marks on the street trying to get away, I’m sure you see I’m not going anywhere. I said I’d help, and I meant it. Besides, I need Capiria to un-stymy my stymied witchiness.”

  “Stymied is not a word I’d use to describe any part of you, and I’ve got a keen eye when it comes to people. Especially pretty adventure junkies.”

  Gabby gave him a close-lipped smile at that. “I’m not an adventure junkie. I just like to have a good time.”

  “That is an understatement.”

  She glanced across her shoulder toward the windows. “Look, I know it’s hotter than hell outside, but the water looks amazing. Any chance that sandwich might stretch for two, and we could head down to the beach?”

  His answering grin made her stomach jump. “I think that could be arranged. Alain stocks his fridge with a nice local IPA. Grab a six-pack, and I’ll whip up a few more sandwiches. The beer is on the bottom shelf. It’s the one with a skull on its label.”

  “Ghost in the Machine. That IPA happens to be a favorite of mine.”

  The two headed down the back stairs to the grassy sand, Luke carrying two chairs and an umbrella, while Gabrielle carried the cooler bag.

  “This lake still surprises me,” he said, anchoring the umbrella.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I think of large bodies of fresh water as a northern thing. Pontchartrain is as big as Lake Champlain.”

  “A little bigger, actually. Then again, it isn’t really a lake. It’s an estuary. I g
rew up around Lake Champlain.”

  “Whereabouts? I know the area well.”

  “Lake Crest, New York. I was born in Montreal, though. My mother was American, but my father is from your neck of the woods.”

  He cocked his head, surprised. “A fellow Quebecer.”

  “Only until ten years old. Though, I still hold dual citizenship.”

  They sat on the grassy bank and ate in relative quiet, looking out at the bright vista.

  “Luke,” she began.

  Hmmm?

  “What does it feel like when you shift?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “No reason. If it’s too personal a question, that’s fine. I was just curious.”

  “It’s not personal. It’s just an odd question for a born shifter. Like asking someone what a body part feels like.”

  She grinned, peeling the corners of the condensation-soggy label from her beer bottle. “You mean like asking a dude what it feels like to have balls?”

  Luke coughed, choking on his beer.

  “Oops.” She chuckled, wiping the mess she made of the label on the edge of her towel. “Raven should’ve warned you all about my mouth. I haven’t got much of a filter.”

  His crooked smirk took on a seductive curve. “Your mouth is perfect, bébé. Filter or no.”

  Blushing wasn’t usually part of her deal, yet here she was with heat flaming her cheeks. She pressed the cold bottle to her face.

  “You okay?” he asked, but the slight flare to his nostrils told her he knew exactly what was up.

  “July in Louisiana,” she answered quickly. “We’re crazy to be out here.”

  He tipped the end of his bottle to his lips. “It was your idea. Shifters maintain the same body heat no matter what the weather.”

  “Is that some of what it feels like when you shift? An even temperature?”

  He shook his head. “No. It starts with pressure. Everyone’s different, but for me it starts in my gut. If I’m really pumped for a fight, it starts lower. In those nether bits you wondered what it felt like to have.”