Trapped By The Wolf (Werewolf Fever #1)

  TRAPPED BY THE WOLF

  By Juno Blake

  © 2017

  All rights reserved

  CHAPTER 1

  This was a mistake, Lucy thought grimly as rain battered her helmet.

  When she’d set off on her motorbike early in the morning, it had been cloudy, the slightest drizzle softening the air. Lucy had been excited: if the drizzle cleared, the towering clouds would make an incredible backdrop for photos of the rugged Northern European coastline she was exploring.

  Instead, the rain had gotten heavier. And heavier. And now…

  “Shit!” Lucy yelled as her motorbike skidded on the slick surface. She fought to regain control of the bike and came to a stop at the edge of the road. Panting, she looked around.

  She was in the middle of nowhere. The road she was driving on was the only sign of civilization from here to the horizon. The ground fell away on either side of the road in tumbles of rock and windswept grass, down to the rain-lashed sea.

  The rain was so heavy it was hard to tell where the ocean ended and the sky began. Lucy squinted through her helmet visor, scrubbing at the glass in a vain attempt to keep the rain off long enough for her to look around properly.

  Lucy peered through the grey sheets of rain. Is that…?

  She wiped her visor clean again, hardly believing her eyes. Out in the rain, seeming to rise up from the ocean itself, was an enormous castle.

  But it can’t be, Lucy thought. How could I not have heard about this? An ancient castle, all the way out here on the coast, in the middle of nowhere?

  Lucy tried to remember the map she’d pored over when she was planning this trip. She had spent years saving, and reading every travel book and blog she could find, to make this the adventure of a lifetime.

  Lucy frowned. She had been focusing on places of great natural beauty to photograph, but there was no way she would have forgotten seeing a castle in the tourist brochures for the area. Seriously… a castle!

  Her fingers were itching to photograph it already. Here, from the road, with its tall towers shrouded in rain, the castle looked like some Atlantean fortress rising from the waves. If she could just get a bit closer… What an amazing picture that would be. My best so far.

  She dismissed the idea with a rueful shake of her head. Just riding in this rain was difficult enough—she didn’t want to get her photography gear soaked, too. Even the best shot wasn’t worth ruining her gear.

  But that didn’t mean she was going to turn her back on the mysterious castle. It had been hours since she saw any buildings, and Lucy had been on the lookout for somewhere to hide from the rain. Maybe she couldn’t photograph the castle, but at least she could take shelter in it. Even if it was derelict, there might be a dry corner in the ruins for Lucy to hide in until the worst of the storm passed.

  She started the engine and rode forward slowly, watching out for the road leading out to the castle. There must be a driveway somewhere, she thought. It can’t actually be rising up from the waves… right?

  Even though she kept her eyes peeled, she almost missed it.

  The turnoff wasn’t signposted, and it was almost invisible behind a tall thicket of wind-swept brambles. Lucy pushed her way past the brambles, glad she’d worn sturdy pants and her leather jacket.

  The rain pummeled her helmet and shoulders as she rode carefully up the old road to the castle. The road was paved with large, flat stones, not asphalt like the motorway she’d been driving along before. Some of the stones were cracked, and Lucy had to take care not to get her wheels stuck.

  She was so intently focused on the road that she didn’t notice how close she was getting to the castle. When she did finally look up, it was already looming above her.

  The sight took her breath away. The local stone here was granite, hard and grey as the sea, but the stone the castle had been built from was darker, almost black.

  It wasn’t derelict. This close, she could see the castle was completely intact, a dark, forbidding fortress standing strong behind heavy metal gates. On either side of the gate, tall walls topped with gleaming metal spikes disappeared into the pounding rain, encircling the castle grounds. A shining chain and padlock held the gate closed. It was obviously new… and equally as clearly meant to keep people out.

  Lucy chewed her lip. She’d been to plenty of old castles and stately homes while she was traveling around the UK. But this place was different. There were no signs encouraging her to part with painful amounts of money, for a start.

  And she was sure there hadn’t been anything about castles in the tourist brochures she’d read in the last town.

  Doubt twisted in her stomach. An abandoned castle was one thing. She’d even be happy to camp out in a tourist trap and play the idiot tourist if anyone came along to throw her out.

  But if someone lived here?

  Normal people don’t live in castles.

  The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She shook herself.

  You’re being paranoid. Normal people don’t live in castles, sure, but I bet super-rich humans do. Or… aristocracy? They still have kings and queens around here, don’t they? Some countries, at least.

  No. Lucy wasn’t an idiot. She knew what sorts of people lived in places like this. It was a stereotype… because it was true.

  She raised one hand to her throat before she remembered she had lost her silver necklace a few countries back. She hadn’t worried about it at the time—she hadn’t planned on being anywhere she would need it—but…

  Werewolves. Vampires. Other creatures of the night. They were more common here in the old country than they were back in America—and more dangerous, if you believed the stories. Their culture here was thousands of years old.

  And part of that culture was preying on humans.

  A droplet of icy rain made its way under Lucy’s collar, making her shiver.

  I’m going to freeze out here, she thought. It’s either this, or hiding behind a handy rock until the storm passes. It’s too dangerous for me to keep riding in this weather—I’ll end up spread like jelly over the road.

  Lucy stared up at the gates. Even knowing the potential danger, she couldn’t help looking at the castle with longing. Walls. Ceilings. Dryness.

  And if someone lived there—someone human—then there would maybe even be a shower. Warm towels.

  Lucy bit her lip.

  The castle was well-protected. The wall around its grounds was taller than she was, and the gates were a complicated wrought-iron design. They were also held together with a thick iron chain and padlock.

  She rattled them experimentally. The dull metal gleamed in the rain, and Lucy’s eyes widened.

  Not iron after all. Silver.

  This changed everything. She wouldn’t be breaking into a potential supernatural’s lair; she would be breaking into a castle fortified against the dangerous creatures.

  Lucy looked back over her shoulder. She could hardly see the main road from here, and the thought of trying to find anywhere else to hide from the storm made her heart sink.

  She got off her bike and walked up and down in front of the gate. All that silver fretwork should make for great handholds and footholds, she told herself.

  She raised one hand and grabbed a cold metal curl. Her leather biking gloves gave her a secure grip.

  I suppose it’s technically trespassing… but I really, really don’t want to ride on that motorway any longer. It’s way too dangerous in this weather. And it’s not like I can stay out here in the storm. Besides, if anyone is in there, I can look after myself.

  Lucy stomped her heavy boots on the ground, heaving the reassuring clang, and pinched back a smile.
Excuses, excuses. You just hope you’ll be able to find a hot shower.

  Lucy raised her other hand, finding another secure handhold. Besides, the place looks empty. No lights or anything. Whoever owns this castle can’t be home.

  She made up her mind.

  It’s not like I can carry the bike over with me… but there’s no way I’m leaving my gear out here. Lucy carefully secured her camera bag around her neck, and then much less conscientiously slung her rucksack over her shoulders. It was awkward, but she managed to climb over the gate, only slipping the last few feet to the ground.

  “That wasn’t so hard,” she said to herself—and regretted it a moment later. There was a cracking sound overhead and the rain upgraded itself from “downpour” to “torrential”.

  The path up to the castle was as cracked and broken as the rest of the road. Swearing, Lucy dodged puddles as she hurried up to the big main doors. She was already soaked, and cold, and she didn’t want to add a sprained ankle to the list. She’d been traveling through Europe for six months on her own now, and didn’t want her journey to come to an end—or even a pause—just because she slipped on a stupid paving stone.

  She didn’t think to wonder why the gates, and silver lock, were in such better condition than the road.

  The castle’s double front doors were black wood with wrought iron—silver?—designs on the handle and knocker. Lucy raised her hand to knock but to her surprise, the moment she touched the door it swung open.

  Eyes wide, she eagerly stepped inside out of the rain. A heavy silence struck her, and it took her a second to realize what it was: the absence of the sound of water beating down on her helmet.

  She quickly pulled her helmet off, wincing as cold water dripped down the back of her neck.

  “Eugh,” she muttered, shaking her hair loose.

  Lucy looked around for somewhere to put her helmet, and set it down on a table to one side of the main doors. On a sudden thought, she ran her gloved finger across the tabletop. It came away clean.

  No dust, she thought. Is there someone living here after all?

  “Hello?” she called. There was no response except the echo of her own voice: Hello? Hello?

  Lucy waited a few more minutes before deciding that the house must be empty. I guess they forgot to lock up the front door before they left, she thought. Or whoever comes in to dust left it open. Lucky me.

  She shivered. Hopefully they left the linen closet full, as well. I really need to dry off.

  She stripped off her gloves and flexed her fingers, which were stiff from the cold and her long ride. After a moment’s thought, she pulled off her boots, as well. The hardwood floor of the entranceway was spotless, and she’d already tracked in mud from the path. There was no reason to make more work for the cleaner, or risk marking the hardwood floors with her nailed boots. She stood them tidily by the door, next to the table where she laid her helmet and rucksack.

  Twisting her wet hair back over her shoulders, Lucy began to explore. Even with the rain, it was still light outside, but the windows were so small that it was almost pitch-dark inside the castle. Lucy pulled out her emergency pocket flashlight and switched it on.

  What she saw took her breath away. The entrance hall was huge. Its paneled walls stretched far up into the shadows, where she could see only a hint of wooden beams crossing the ceiling. Great brass chandeliers hung from the beams, green with age and heavy with cobwebs.

  She walked forward, mouth open, her feet silent on the hardwood floor. An enormous staircase swept up from the far end of the entranceway, leading to a mezzanine floor and walkways that clung to the four outer walls of the hall. Her little flashlight glinted off more brass candelabras, but wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the gloom.

  Something skittered in the shadows and she swung around, the thin beam of her flashlight bobbing madly. There was nothing there.

  Lucy took a deep breath, willing her pounding heart to slow down. It was probably just a rat, she told herself. I guess I’m not the only one trying to find shelter from the storm.

  She turned back to the staircase. She guessed there must be doors leading off the main hall on this level, but that staircase was too much of a temptation to resist.

  It was easy to imagine what the hall would look like with the chandeliers lit, dripping golden light down onto the staircase, and more lights burning in the alcoves on every wall. Lucy knew the old candles and torches had probably long since been replaced by electric lights, but in her imagination a thousand tiny flames flickered and danced, filling the hall with warm, romantic light.

  Halfway up the stairs, she turned and looked back. The room behind her was thick with shadows, but just for a moment, she thought she saw something moving in them. She shivered.

  All the evidence suggested the castle was empty. There were no lights on, no murmurs of distant conversation or a TV, no sign that there was anyone here but herself. So why was she so jumpy?

  Get a hold of yourself! Remember that time you spent a whole ten hours clinging to the side of a cliff, waiting for the light to be right so you could get a good shot? You weren’t scared then—why are you freaking out now?

  Lucy shook herself and kept walking up the stairs. Once she was at the top, she had to decide which way to go.

  What is it people always say—if you’re lost in a maze, keep going left? Well, this isn’t a maze, but it’s as good an idea as any…

  Lucy turned left, still marveling at the castle’s interior. The walls up here were bare black stone, with deep alcoves holding empty candlesticks. A few heavy wooden tables looked like they should have held more decorations, but were empty. The place looked abandoned.

  At last Lucy came to a closed door. She pushed it open, surprised when it swung smoothly and didn’t creak.

  “Oh, this is perfect!” she breathed, hurrying into the room. Unlike the rest of the castle she’d seen so far, this room looked—well, lived-in.

  Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled one wall, and two plush sofas sat in front of a large fireplace. There was even a rug under the sofas. She wriggled her toes, suddenly very aware of how cold her feet were against the wooden floorboards.

  “Right,” she said to herself. In this smaller room, her voice didn’t echo like it did in the hall, and speaking aloud didn’t feel so weird. “This must be the part of the castle people actually live in. When they’re here, at least. Which means there’s got to be a bathroom around here somewhere…”

  Resisting the urge to curl up on one of the sofas and dig her cold toes into the thick rug, she ventured on into the next room.

  Hurrying through the inhabited wing of the castle, she found a kitchen, dining room, bedroom and, finally, the bathroom. Lucy moaned with relief. Her biking leathers had done a good enough job of keeping the wind off, but enough water had trickled down under her collar that she was wet and cold. A hot shower was just what she needed.

  Feeling like the world’s strangest burglar, Lucy rifled through the linen closet, grabbing a soft fluffy towel. The bath—and it was a bath, not a shower, not even a shower-over-bath—was a claw-footed monstrosity that came almost up to Lucy’s waist. It was more like a plunge pool than a tub.

  She turned on the hot tap and sighed with happiness as steam started to rise from the flowing water. “The hot water’s still on. That’s a blessing,” she murmured, stepping back and stripping off her leather jacket. She draped it over the vanity to drip dry, and pulled the t-shirt she was wearing underneath over her head.

  “A blessing? Around here, we call them ‘baths’,” said a masculine voice behind her.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lucy froze. The man’s voice had been amused, with the slightest hint of a Scottish burr… and very, very close.

  She spun around, trying to wrench her soaking t-shirt back over her head at the same time, and lost her balance. For a split second she locked eyes with the man leaning against the bathroom door, which she’d left open. He was tall and well built, wi
th tousled dark hair and a sardonic expression on his face.

  Then her foot slipped beneath her and she was falling backwards.

  A fleeting image of her head cracking on the cast-iron bath flashed through her mind. Then strong arms grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back upright.

  Lucy gasped, finding herself face-to-face with the stranger. Heat seemed to pour off him, and his eyes blazed into hers, a burning gold that almost hurt to look at.

  He frowned, heavy black eyebrows drawing low, and Lucy was suddenly intensely aware of his hands around her waist. She could feel every finger pressing into her skin.

  Not her shirt, her skin. She hadn’t managed to pull her t-shirt back down all the way.

  One of his thumbs slid against her side, exploring the curve of her waist. Lucy gasped and pulled away. The feeling that had rushed through her—No, she thought, horrified. Get a hold of yourself!

  “Who are you?” she asked, trembling.

  “The owner of this property,” the man replied flatly. His nostrils flared. “And you are…”

  He leaned forward, towards Lucy, and she gulped, trembling. But he didn’t touch her. Instead, he reached past to turn off the hot tap without so much as brushing against her.

  “I’m… stuck,” she admitted, trying to ignore how her body had reacted to the near-touch. “I mean, I was driving, but the storm…”

  The man stared coolly at her. Had she thought his eyes were gold? It must have been a trick of the light. They were a deep, cold black, like polished jet.

  “You were driving in the storm… and that brought you into my bathroom, half-undressed?” he said coldly.

  Lucy flushed. “Yes. It was too dangerous for me to keep going, and this is the only shelter for miles around.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware of the castle’s isolation. That’s why I chose it. Clearly, I chose poorly, if even living on the edge of a remote peninsula isn’t enough to keep adventurous young women from my door.”

  Lucy’s face felt as though it was on fire. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave,” she snapped. “Just let me know if there’s a, a nice friendly cave or something further up the coast and I’ll go—”