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  CLOAKED IN BLOOD

  Wulfkin Legacy, Book 3

  T.F. Walsh

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Copyright © 2016 by T.F. Walsh.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  Published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  57 Littlefield Street

  Avon, MA 02322

  www.crimsonromance.com

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-9736-7

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9736-7

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-9737-5

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9737-4

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art ©123rf/pzromashka, ©123rf/Viorel Sima.

  Many thanks to my amazing writing partners, Andrea, Christine, Graeme, Kathy, Louisa, Laura, and Patricia for their assistance in helping me meet the deadline and getting the details right. Couldn’t have done it without you.

  GLOSSARY

  Moonwulf – Wolf shifters who will transform from human to wolf form only during the full moon.

  Wulfkin – Moonwulves who have gone through the Lunar Eutine rite of passage and are now able to change at will into their wolf form.

  Dracwulf – Unstoppable berserker-like creature that is half wolf, half wulfkin and will kill anything in its path.

  Lunar Eutine – A rite of passage for a moonwulf to permanently transform into a wulfkin. It takes place beneath a blood moon. Eutine means true of heart and draws on a moonwulf’s connection to his or her inner wolf. When the moon is completely shrouded in black, a new wulfkin will be delivered.

  Alpha – The leader of a pack of wulfkin/moonwulves who rules only over his or her claimed territory.

  Varlac – A reigning wulfkin clan who rule and set laws for all alphas living under their territory jurisdiction (e.g. Europe, Africa, etc.)

  Varlac Emperor Alpha – Varlac leader who rules over every alpha and pack in Europe.

  Varlac Sultan Alpha – Varlac leader who rules over every alpha and pack in the Middle East and Asia.

  Venery – A sport engaged in by Varlac leaders whereby they hunt wild animals.

  Battle of Innocence – A challenge whereby a worthy champion will engage in a tournament or task on behalf of another wulfkin facing charges. If the champion succeeds, the wulfkin he or she is representing will be found innocent and freed. If the champion fails, the wulfkin will be found guilty and punished accordingly.

  Boon – On the completion of a battle of innocence, if the champion succeeds, he or she will be granted a boon, allowing him or her to claim any prize he or she desires. Within reason of course.

  Thank you for purchasing a Crimson Romance novel. Please sign up for our weekly newsletter for information on new releases, contests, discounts and more.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  GLOSSARY

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Marcin

  The inner wolf nipped at my insides, promising speed and stealth to track our opponent exceptionally fast if I shifted. Except we weren’t playing by those rules today.

  Remain human and hunt.

  Staring at the snow blanketing the terrain didn’t reveal my enemy. But standing out in the open in daylight made me an easy target, so I sprinted into the deciduous forest stripped of its color.

  The earlier crispness of the day—pine, fresh, and clean—was overpowered by the distant fireplace smoke in the air, burning my nostrils and making my throat itch. Underlying it all was that earthy scent of wet fur. It called me straight ahead.

  A growl reverberated in my chest, and I summoned my wolf’s strength, embracing his fire. An invigorating energy zapped through me, and my flesh prickled. This was the closest I’d ever come to harnessing the wolf without shifting, and I longed for the full transformation.

  I rushed ahead, dodging trees, leaping over dead logs ... each step precise with minimal sound. About fifty yards away, I picked up the repetitive hop of a rabbit scurrying for cover. The breeze brought no new scents but shook the dry leaves that cascaded around me.

  Where are you?

  A crunch of twigs snapped from behind.

  I jerked around.

  The gray wolf I’d been hunting lunged toward me.

  My breath froze in my lungs. I threw a punch, connecting with the side of his head, but I held my ground.

  The wolf’s stunned body crashed into me. He whimpered. Still, his fangs grazed my shoulder, snagging fabric and flesh on the way down.

  I recoiled, grasping my wound.

  He collapsed with a thud but quickly scrambled back onto large paws. His dark fur bristled. His lips peeled back.

  The scratch would heal, but my leather jacket ... hell, it had been a gift from an alpha in Norway, specifically made to be fireproof and with multiple secret pockets in the lining.

  “Today’s training was a seek-and-find mission, not seek and attack.” My words boomed, sending birds fluttering out of the nearby trees.

  Aron’s ears flattened against his head, and he lowered his belly to the ground.

  “Draw on your wolf’s strength and remain in human form. Those were my instructions.” For months, I’d trained new pack members, and they still didn’t get it. We couldn’t hide who we were from humans forever. We had to learn to adapt. Controlling our wolf side was the answer. Damn it, we were wulfkin—half wolf, half man—and the moon didn’t control our wild side, so we sure as hell should be able to control it ourselves.

  A whine resonated from Aron’s chest.

  I dusted foliage and snow off my jeans. “We’re doing this again.”

  The crunch of snow sounded, and I turned to find Vincent, my second-in-command, striding closer with two other initiates alongside him, both in their pants and bomber jackets. Maybe the training wasn’t a complete loss.

  “The weather’s turning for the worse.” Vincent drew the
collar of his black coat tight and wrapped his arms across his chest. Snow dotted his dark brown, cropped hair, and his cheeks were weather burned.

  Despite the lack of strong winds, the arctic cold sunk its teeth into my bones, just like Aron’s bite.

  Vincent’s gaze shifted to Aron, who now crouched naked in human form—hugging his knees, teeth chattering.

  I took off my jacket and tossed it to Aron. “Go put some clothes on and come back. We’re going another round.”

  “You heard him, wulfkin,” Vincent called out. “Another round.”

  Aron slipped into the jacket, nodded, and bolted toward the castle. The other initiates ran off into the woods behind us.

  Vincent stepped closer, his voice low and brittle. “Six mock hunts and he still shifts. Is he suited for our pack? We’re wasting our time.”

  I stared at my second-in-command, my friend and a wulfkin I considered a brother. The look in his deep-set eyes was pure trust. His honesty was refreshing and unrelenting. I’d grown up in a world surrounded by power-hungry wolves, and Vincent was a blessing.

  “He’ll pull through. Give him time.” I needed a loyal, strong, and large pack behind me. They had to trust in me and the direction I chose. So if it took twenty practice hunts to help initiates find their strength and curb the desire to turn, then twenty they’d get. If after that they showed no improvement, then they could return to Father’s pack.

  When I was sixteen, Father had encouraged me to become an alpha by taking over a neighboring pack because no son of his would simply inherit an alpha status. You must earn it. I followed his instructions in hope that it would make him proud of me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Months later, I stopped taking his advice on how to rule over my pack members. Fear never built loyalty—only gutless, selfish wulfkin who’d slit your throat at the first opportunity. Now, both my and Father’s packs lived in the Hungarian castle, and lucky for everyone, the place was large enough to avoid stepping on each other’s toes.

  Foliage snapped deeper in the woods. I stiffened; my gaze swept the woodland. A figure ran toward us from the direction of the castle.

  Father’s personal servant, an eighteen-year-old wulfkin with a red nose, emerged, his breaths labored. “Marcin.” He took a deep inhale, and his words rattled. “Varlac Emperor Levin is home and demands your immediate presence.”

  A quiet chill limped up my spine. Good ol’ cold and calculating Father caused panic the moment he’d arrived back home. “I’ll see him later.”

  “No. Please, he’ll beat me if you don’t show up.” The young wulfkin’s wide eyes pleaded with me.

  I gritted my teeth. When had my father ever created anything but chaos? Never.

  Vincent patted my arm. “Go. I’ll finish here.”

  I rubbed my eyes with frosty fingers. My instincts screamed at me to stay out in the woods all day and night, not giving my father the satisfaction of obedience.

  “The alpha ...” The young wulfkin’s voice cracked. “Is holding an urgent council meeting. Everyone’s in the great hall, waiting for you.”

  “Council meeting? What for?” The only time Father called urgent assembly was when he sprang yet another law change on all the wulfkin in his territories. As a Varlac emperor who ruled over every alpha and pack in Europe, it gave him the freedom to do so. But perhaps his arrival back home from Transylvania came with news about my brother, Enre, who lived with a pack in Romania. At the age of fourteen, he had run away from home, but I couldn’t blame him, not with the way Father used to beat him. Distance was his safest option. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow the fact that I’d lost a brother at such a young age.

  The wulfkin in front of me shrugged, his large coat giving the impression he was taller than he was. “Come. He’s impatient today.”

  “My father’s middle name is Impatient,” I responded with no exaggeration.

  Vincent broke into a deep chuckle. “Don’t think you have a choice. We’ll regroup later.”

  “Yep.” My voice strained. “Guess I don’t get to change my clothes either.” Blood stained the shoulder of my white shirt, the fabric shredded above the torn flesh that stung each time the wind brushed across the wound.

  Vincent retreated in the same direction as the initiates. I headed toward the castle.

  • • •

  My steps echoed off the stone walls, and shadows flickered across the dimly lit corridor like spies tracking my movements. Candelabras lined every inch of the castle. We didn’t live in medieval times, but Father insisted on the ambiance they created.

  Ahead, the ten-foot, double oak doors leading into the great hall were closed. The cast-iron doorknockers, formed in the shape of a wolf’s head with a deer leg in its jaws, mocked me. This room was Father’s stage. The one location where he gathered his fearful minions and dished out punishments to flaunt his power. Whatever sadistic decisions Father intended to showcase today would end up affecting me somehow. Always did.

  I pushed open the creaking doors, drawing everyone’s attention. Seventy or so wulfkin stood around in a large circle: Father’s pack, a handful of mine, and council members. The arched windows on one side of the room showed only the white sloping mountains behind the castle. No furniture filled this room since it was a place of business, as Father often said. The only sign of hospitality was the blazing fire roaring in the hearth centered on the back wall, but it did little to warm the large space.

  Wulfkin parted, and I stormed forward, my sights set on Father’s throne at this end of the circle of people. A bear’s pelt, complete with head and glassy eyes, hung from the back of his tall seat. Father’s trophy and bragging rights to anyone who’d listen.

  The moment I emerged from the crowd, my gaze fastened on two figures at the other end of the court. Ice filled my veins.

  Enre, my younger brother whom I hadn’t seen for the last twelve years, was on his knees, hands bound behind his back, mouth gagged, and chained with an iron collar tethered to the floor. Blood streaked his cheek. A welcome back hug from Father no doubt. A dark-haired beauty kneeling next to Enre was in the same plight. Who was she?

  “What the fuck is this?” The words tore past my throat.

  “Such language.” Father gave me a smarmy response. “Come take my side, son.”

  When Enre met my gaze, his features twisted into a grimace. Sure, we didn’t have the brotherly relationship I’d dreamed of. I didn’t blame him for loathing me. When we were growing up, Father had been unstoppable in his torment of Enre. The most I could do was divert him long enough for Enre to run away. Two broken ribs had been worth the knowledge that my younger brother would no longer be a punching bag.

  My thoughts numbed, bludgeoned to death by the sight in front of me. What the hell was going on? I lunged toward Enre and pulled on his restraints, the clangs a lonely song in the deathly silent room.

  “Someone give me the keys.” My voice thundered and echoed throughout the hall.

  “Enough of your theatrics, Marcin. Take your place next to me.” Father’s underlying tone carried venom, the kind promising repercussions.

  I stepped between the prisoners and the supposedly greatest leader of Europe. The solid wulfkin sat stiff in his ruling chair, silver strands above his temples giving the impression he had horns. Wouldn’t be far from the truth.

  “Is this how you welcome your son back home, with chains and gags? What message are you sending to your packs?”

  Father shifted in his seat, tightness capturing his thin lips. “If anyone crosses me—even my own blood—they’ll pay.”

  I moved closer, hands curled into fists. “How exactly has Enre crossed you? He’s your son, for moon’s sake. Weren’t you the one who taught me to check all my facts before making accusations?”

  He huffed. “I have the facts, and you’d better steady that sharp tongue.”

  My muscles flexed, urging me closer, and the inner wolf prodded my chest, ready to show Father a thing or two. “I won’t
let you treat Enre like an animal ever again.”

  The rigid posture Father took, the way his fingers crushed the seat’s arm, were all warning signs of a volcanic eruption, punishment for defying him in public. But the explosion of fire in my chest would shadow his venting, leaving him choking on his own toxic cloud.

  Control yourself. Don’t destroy the trust you’ve built with him for years. I softened my expression.

  Father lifted himself out of his seat with the swiftness of a predator.

  While challenging my alpha to a fight would bring me the ultimate satisfaction, his guards would step in before I laid a hand on him. And my pack wasn’t large enough yet to take on his entire army. Killing him had crossed my mind, but with the council aware I intended to overthrow him, I’d be the number one suspect, meaning I’d be punished by death. The usual law of killing alphas to replace them didn’t apply to Varlac leaders. They had their own set of rules involving natural death, handing over the position to another, or having hard evidence proving he or she had broken a rule. A crafty Varlac in the past had made sure of these changes to the rules.

  The only reason I still lived in this hell of a castle with my pack was to keep my enemy close and plot his downfall.

  “Marcin. Either sit by my side or leave.” The coldness of Father’s words was a blade to my heart, but I couldn’t force my legs to move. Not when my brother remained chained, and I had a lifetime of atonement to make up for his treatment. I should have done more to protect him, should have taken the hits. Fear had been a crippling cancer.

  “At least unchain them. They aren’t going anywhere.” I approached and stood at Father’s side to show him I could play the game too.

  He sat back down and folded one leg over the other. A quick wave to someone in the crowd brought a tall wulfkin with more muscles than sense strutting toward Enre and his companion. Father’s minion removed the gags and ties from Enre and the female.

  When Father gave another wave, a second servant scurried over with a silver wine goblet. He handed it to Father, who sighed and backhanded the drink. The goblet clattered to the stone floor, and red liquid splashed across several spectators nearby. Father snatched the young wulfkin’s wrist. “How many times have I told you to always hand me blood wine in my right hand?” He raised his hand into a fist.