Wolf Bound (The White Wolf Prophecy Book 1) Read online

  Wolf Bound

  The White Wolf Prophecy, Book One

  Kayleigh King

  Copyright © 2020 by Kayleigh King

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copy edit by Gina www.killingitwrite.com

  Proofread by Michelle Morrow www.chellreads.com

  Cover by Najla Qamber Designs www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

  ISBN: 978-0-578-64201-7

  For my Family

  Who told me to leave the driveway, but it’s too peopley outside and I’d much rather talk to the people living in my head.

  Contents

  1. Pruitt

  2. Ryker

  3. Pruitt

  4. Ryker

  5. Pruitt

  6. Ryker

  7. Pruitt

  8. Ryker

  9. Pruitt

  10. Ryker

  11. Pruitt

  12. Pruitt

  13. Pruitt

  14. Pruitt

  15. Ryker

  16. Pruitt

  17. Pruitt

  18. Ryker

  19. Pruitt

  20. Ryker

  21. Pruitt

  22. Ryker

  23. Pruitt

  24. Pruitt

  25. Ryker

  26. Pruitt

  27. Ryker

  28. Pruitt

  29. Ryker

  30. Pruitt

  31. Ryker

  32. Pruitt

  33. Ryker

  34. Pruitt

  35. Ryker

  36. Pruitt

  37. Ryker

  38. Pruitt

  39. Ryker

  40. Pruitt

  41. Ryker

  42. Pruitt

  43. Ryker

  44. Pruitt

  45. Pruitt

  46. Ryker

  47. Pruitt

  SOUL BOUND

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  Pruitt

  “Good God, are you even helping?” I grunt as I hoist the heavy dresser up another stair step.

  “Would you prefer to walk backwards up these stairs? You’re more than welcome to switch positions with me!” Aunt Addison hisses down at me. Her usually sweet voice is harsh and has a bite to it I’m not used to.

  “I don’t think moving has been conducive to our relationship.” My arms burn as I struggle to keep my hold on the large piece of wood furniture. “You’ve been very testy, and you seem to be taking it out on me. But let me remind you, moving here was your idea, not mine. You were the one who said, and I quote, ‘The fresh Montana air will do us some good,’” I mimic in my best Addison voice going up an octave. “But you’ve been a brat the whole time, and you’re not lifting with your legs! Heave woman!”

  “Pru, don’t make me laugh,” Addison says with a snicker. I can’t see her face from this angle, but I know she’s biting her lower lip and her brow is pulled together in frustration. “I’ve had an itch on my nose for the last three minutes, and if you don’t think I haven’t thought about letting this thing go and scratching it, you’re wrong. So don’t tempt me!”

  With a final push, we’re able to get the dresser to the top landing. Once we have the dresser secure on flat ground, I step back and flop to the ground. “I can’t believe you told those mover guys we didn’t need help lugging the rest of this shit up these stairs.” I push a lock of blonde hair off my sweaty forehead. “What were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t want them to think we were weak girls who couldn’t move our own furniture.” Addie leans on the top of the dresser and rests her head on her arm.

  It’s only ever been Addie and me. We’ve always been strong-headed and are always reluctant to ask for help, but in this case, we really do need it.

  “Addie, we are weak girls who can’t move our own furniture,” I say straight-faced. “It took us a half-hour to get this beast up the steps, and that’s not even the largest piece of furniture we have to move!” Addison looks over the railing to the pile of boxes and belongings we have yet to haul up.

  “Yeah, I know.” She groans as she stretches her back. “That’s why I called them an hour ago, and they’re coming back in the morning.”

  “So what you’re saying is, I just risked my life moving this damn thing for no reason?” Addie’s lips thin in a stubborn scowl, and she offers no defense because she doesn’t have one. “Well, in that case, I’m going to bed.” I pull myself off the ground and head down the hall, kissing Addison’s cheek as I pass. Her hazel eyes look tired, and her light brown hair is falling from the French braid she had tied it into this morning. I hope she follows my lead and goes to bed.

  “Don’t even think about coming and asking me to help you until there are double digits on the clock!” I warn her over my shoulder.

  I should be missing San Francisco more than I am. For a place I’ve called home for fourteen years, I’m shocked at how easy it was for me to walk away from it all. I didn’t think twice about agreeing to move with Addison to Montana when she made the decision to leave. At the age of twenty, I had the option of staying in California by myself and continuing to go to the local college there. But Addison is the only family I have ever known, and the idea of being on my own did not sit well with me. So, I packed up my life with Addie a couple of days ago and made the drive to Montana with her.

  Addison is originally from Montana, and though all her family is gone now, she felt the need to return to her roots and come home. She bought a farmhouse on a large piece of land and for the past six months, has had it renovated and readied for our arrival. It still has many of its original characteristics, like the exposed wood beams in the ceiling and heavy oak doors. Having lived in a modern condo for most of my life, the rustic feel of my new home is a welcomed change. I am, however, thankful she had every bathroom and the kitchen updated. The old fixtures were antiquated and damaged. And the original wallpaper in my bathroom with the colorful birds on it had to go.

  I close the door to my new room and can’t help but feel happy looking at the amazing little reading nook under my large window. I can already see myself spending hours painting or sketching there. Addison knew that as well, and that’s why she allowed me to have this room. It’s a bit larger than the one she chose for herself, but she said I would get more use out of this space, and I know she’s right.

  I pad across the dark hardwood floors to my bathroom and quickly brush my teeth and wash my face. As I braid my long pale-blonde hair, I study myself in the mirror. The same light green eyes stare back at me as always, but something in them has changed. A softness or calmness sits there now. The fast-paced life of living in a big city must have affected me more than I had realized.

  I climb into my freshly made bed and snuggle under the white comforter, resigning myself to a rough night since I never sleep well in unfamiliar places. But to my surprise, I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow.

  It’s raining.

  No, correction, it’s pouring.

  But I don’t feel it hit my skin or soak through my white sleep shirt. Nor do I feel how my hair now hangs around my face like a wet curtain. I don’t shiver when the wind picks u
p or jump when the thunder cracks above my head so loud I swear it rattles my bones. I should be scared and feeling seconds away from hyperthermia, but all I feel is an unexplainable warmth.

  I find comfort in the woods surrounding me, they welcome me like an old friend. I’ve never been here before, but I know this path like the back of my hand.

  I skillfully weave between brush, gracefully leaping over fallen trees and rocks as I go. I have a feeling in my gut, it tells me something is waiting for me. And at any second I will come face to face with the source of my calmness.

  My heartbeat echoes in my ears as I step into the clearing. The full moon above is the only source of light, its beams creating shadows and dark shapes in the trees. I force my eyes to focus on what’s in front of me, and I gasp when I finally see him.

  A wolf.

  He stands across the clearing from me, moving like a shadow in the dim light. His dark coat reflects the moonlight, and I can barely make out his silver undercoat.

  Somehow, I know it’s a male. I can feel it in my gut. Just like I know, he has golden eyes. I can’t see them from this far away, but I know all the same, and I would bet my life I’m right.

  I stare at the wild animal in front of me and notice a gold shimmer shines around his large frame. It’s barely visible, but I can see the shimmering gold light glowing in the moonlight.

  There is something familiar about that aura around him, like many of my memories, it’s right under the surface, but I can’t reach it. I know I’ve seen it before, but I can’t place where.

  We watch each other for what seems like hours, but I know it has only been mere moments. Neither of us moves, afraid if we do, it will be all over, and I’ll never see him again.

  Something in my soul cracks at the thought of never seeing him again. I feel connected to him in some strange way like we are a part of each other.

  No longer able to help it, I take a deep breath and a step forward. My fingers itch to run through his thick fur and to see those golden eyes for myself. But the second my right foot lifts off the ground, the thick, inky darkness of the night starts to swirl around us. My vision begins to cut in and out, and I feel him slipping away from me.

  No!

  I bolt upright in bed, almost flying off the side and onto the floor. It takes me a second to remember where I am and what just happened. Never in my life have I dreamt about a wolf. And if I really think about it, I hardly ever dream at all. Or if I do, I forget them the second I open my eyes in the morning.

  But sitting here, trying to catch my breath, I can remember every moment of the dream. I remember the feeling of peace and the calmness I found by being in the woods. I remember the way the dirt felt under my bare feet and the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. But mostly, I remember him. I remember how beautiful he was and how his coat appeared pitch black except for the bits of white or silver peaking through on his chest. I remember how large he was compared to wolves I’ve seen at the zoo or on the discovery channel.

  I remember everything about him and I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

  To ensure I never will, I fling myself out of bed and begin to dig through the boxes on my floor. I sigh in relief when I finally open the box containing my sketchbook and pencils.

  I practically float across the room to my window seat with images of the wolf swirling around in my head. I focus on the small details of his face as I start to sketch him. My hand moves without much effort, recreating the images in my head with skill and precision.

  As I’m adding the finishing touches to his face, I hear it. A howl.

  I sit motionless as I listen to the chorus of other wolves, adding their voice to the night sky. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard, and I pray I will hear it again.

  I drift off as I stare out my window, willing the wolf to appear. Although deep in my soul, I know I will see the wolf again; he isn’t just a figment of my wild imagination and subconscious; he will somehow soon stand across from me in the clearing.

  And I can’t wait.

  Ryker

  10 Months Later

  “He’s heading south!” I hear Sawyer shout through the speaker on my phone, his deep voice breathless as he continues to track the rogue wolf. “You should be able to cut him off at the mountain pass!”

  “Got it. Don’t let him out of your sight!” I growl as I quickly correct my direction, turning my truck around. The sound of my tires squealing and engine roaring fills my ears. “I’m tired of this fucker having the upper hand.”

  Sawyer and I have been tracking this specific male for the past two weeks all through Alberta, Canada. Every time we come close to catching up with him, he somehow finds a way to evade us.

  The thing about rogue males is they are so blinded by the bloodlust they don’t even bother to cover their tracks. But this male has been diligent about staying under the radar. He’s so far under the radar I’m starting to think he has some help.

  “I’m heading east, I can help you trap him at the pass!” A female voice comes through the phone. Avery is the occasional third to our group. She was attacked and assaulted by a rogue last year. After Sawyer and I were able to subdue him, she was the one to rip out his throat. She has quickly become quite a fierce warrior.

  “Sawyer, you need to shift! There’s no way you’ll be able to stay on his trail in human form!”

  A thumping noise comes from the phone, and then it goes dead, meaning Sawyer took Avery’s advice and shifted into his wolf form, dropping his phone somewhere in the Canadian woods.

  I push my truck to its limit as it speeds through the back mountain roads. Usually, Sawyer is the one to drive while I track in wolf form. I’m faster and stronger in my wolf form than both Sawyer and Avery, but since he was closest when we caught the scent, he went ahead.

  I try to keep my focus on the task at hand, I can’t help but let my mind wander to her.

  This week would have been her twenty-first birthday. We should be celebrating. I imagine we would have gone to the local bar and ordered her first legal drink, something fruity with an umbrella. It’s the fourteenth birthday I have mourned her death instead of celebrating her life. And it’s another reminder my mate is dead and I will never celebrate a birthday or holiday with her again.

  Fourteen years ago, my mate was killed by a pack of rogue wolves. At the age of thirteen, I never truly comprehended the importance of having a mate or how lucky I was to have found mine so early. I was too young then to understand death. But now I surround myself with it daily. I spend my days hunting and killing rogues, so no one else ever has to know what it’s like to lose their mate at the hands of a rogue wolf.

  “Ryker, you still there?” Avery’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts. “I know it’s a rough week for you—”

  Before she can finish her sentence, I cut her off with a growl more beast than human. “Stop talking, Avery,” I warn her.

  “I’m saying I’m here for you.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to talk about it.” She knows I don’t like to drag up memories of Grey and talking about my feelings. What is there really to say? My mate is dead, and someday soon I will turn rogue myself. But until that day happens, I will hunt down every one of these evil bastards as I can. I have nothing to live for anymore, but at least I’m making a difference.

  That’s what I like to tell myself anyway.

  Some would argue I still have my family and pack back in Montana. But it was never the same after Grey died. The place I called home all my life no longer felt like the loving, warm place that it was. It’s more like a graveyard to me. It’s the place where my mate died, taking our future with her.

  “But—”

  “Avery, I’m not having this conversation with you again,” I snap, trying desperately to end this uncomfortable topic.

  Ever since we found Avery beaten and battered in that motel room last year, she has desperately tried to comfort me. At first, I thought she believed she owed me something fo
r saving her life. But I quickly realized she was interested in being more than a shoulder to lean on. I’ll admit, I may have taken her up on her offer once, but the guilt that overwhelmed me waking up in her bed was enough to make me vomit. I wasn’t meant to be with anyone but my mate. And even if she is no longer here, it still feels like cheating. Since that night, months ago, I have tried to distance myself from Avery and set up more boundaries with her.

  “Sheesh, no need to bite my head off.”

  “I’ve warned you about this. I don’t know why you continue to try to broach the subject,” I argue, but as I’m about to lay into her, Sawyer stumbles into the road, naked and bloodied and back in human form.

  I slam on my breaks and barely swerve enough to avoid crushing my best friend. “Son of a bitch!”

  Once safely on the side of the narrow road, I open my truck door and jump down onto the pavement. My heavy boots pound into the ground as I jog to where Sawyer is hunched over. I smell the blood, and the copper scent overwhelms my senses. “What the hell happened?”

  “He got the jump on me. The redheaded fucker is on my last nerve,” Sawyer wheezes. His breath is short, and his face ashen. He is obviously in an immense amount of pain but trying to hide it.