Déjá vú, but can Kyle change the way it all went down last time, so he can keep the only man he ever loved?
Standing over another mutilated person, Kyle knows the rogue werewolf is back. He’d seen this before, year ago, when everything turned to shit.
Brad was in two minds about coming back to his hometown after running away because of a kiss—that resulted in his best mate’s murder. When his mentor asks for his help, Brad agreed a little too easily.
But it was an excuse to run into the one man he’d been pinning over for too long now. Why he can’t get Kyle out of his head, Brad isn’t sure. However, as soon as he locks eyes with Kyle, the fresh wash of lust tells him he may never be able to.
Can a goal to hunt down the rogue that took their friend’s life—the reason they had been apart—be a reconnection they both so desperately need?
Note: it’s highly recommended that this series to be read in order.
A Werewolf’s Howl by Bronwyn Heeley
(Moonlit Wolves #5)
Published 15th of March 2014 by extasybooks
Paranormal Romance, 4 heat, m/m
Cover Art by Cameron Waters
Kyle and Brad’s story / word count: 24,940
(these are designed to be read by an 18+ ordinance)
It was happening again…Oh, God, it can’t be. This can’t be happening. But it was. Shit, it was. Pete all over again.
Jack, their friendly barkeeper, lay on the needle-infested ground. Eamon, the boss—Chris’ much better, smoother half, was something of a solid leader type with the edge of a nerd who hated them calling him boss so much that they couldn’t help it.
Craig, Phil’s scarier, werewolf hunter mate, was kneeling over the body of their ripped up friend—clearly done by claws and teeth. Needle in hand, he and Eamon stitched savage-looking wounds as Jack lay unconscious.
“Reminds me of Pete,” Kyle said as he looked down at the mess, but came up with something altogether different—different legs, different torso, different scene. Pete lying on the edge of the road, discarded like trash, a creek of blood trailing its way into the undergrowth of the forest it came from.
Dead. The man that Kyle had loved, lying dead mere hours after they had fought their last fight.
His chest hurt, squeezing tight around his heart. His muscles pulled tightly around the bones, his joints hurting from the hold. He felt it in an out of body way, but couldn’t breathe enough to relax himself.
He was in the past, right there when they had gotten the call out from Paul to say that Pete hadn’t made it to work. Kyle guessed it was lucky he had a job that needed him, and a boss that actually gave two shits about him, because it had only been a half hour before Kyle hit the road with James and Gene looking to see what had gone down. Hoping, with an absolute certainty that the idiot had broken down and forgotten his phone—it wasn’t an odd call, Pete never really cared for anything as mundane as technology. Or was it more that forgetfulness of not caring about it?
He laughed, a sob locked tight in his chest. His knees buckled. He couldn’t get out of where he’d been, couldn’t fight the memory that was drowning him where he hadn’t been able to let himself think about until this very moment. So much heartache and regret came from such a short span of time in his life.
The car had been abandoned. Though it had broken down, his phone lay dead on the passenger seat. The doors were locked, and everything looked to be as it should. Fear had lodged in his throat as he looked into the car. His heart beat in his ears, throat, and his fingertips as he looked up and down the road. Everything seemed fine, but Kyle had never felt anything so wrong in his life.
Frantic without a cause, Kyle had scrambled down the road, calling for the others to go the other way. There was no way Pete would go into the trees. No way in fucking hell would he do something so stupid. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, that it wasn’t ever done, but that these woods were a trap—a maze with no answer. Each side that wasn’t lined with roads led into pine tree farms, each set in lines and columns. There were no reference points in those trees. Nothing that showed you were where you were. It was literally a chance at luck to walk into these woods and come out where you started, let alone if you wandered in through the national forest.
It hadn’t taken them—Kyle—long to find him. Dumb luck on his part for the choice he made to go into town. He called, screamed. Kyle really wasn’t sure what he had done on those first few moments to alert the others that he had him. Or how loud he must have been. Kneeling alongside the ripped up side of Pete, Kyle put his hands on the man’s chest, just touching, letting the warmth of the man he loved—he’d been intimate with—sink deep into his skin as he cooled.
“He’s dead,” was all Kyle had said.
It was all he could remember of anything that happened through the coming months. It wasn’t that he hadn’t lived, but that the memory, the events and then more so, the loss, had rattled him so much that he just didn’t want to remember any of it. So he didn’t. To this day, he couldn’t remember the big events that happened. It was hell to figure out the little ones.
How could I not write this book?
How could I not when the storyline was given to me by Terry in book 2?
I found that this book was a little more...sensual than the others I’ve written, and out of everything that’s the only thing that made it difficult for me to write. I had to be in that type of mood, because it ran the whole threw the storyline.
Ok, so really there isn’t anything at this moment that I can think of for this story, but it’s my all-time favourite in this series so far