Dire Wolves: Whiteout [MultiFormat]
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eBook by Shelby Morgen
eBook Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica/Science Fiction
eBook Description: Book Summary As soon as she sees her newest patient, veterinarian Suzanne Grier knows he's no normal wolf. Zan and her colleagues at Alaska's Wolf Sanctuary have always believed the Dire Wolves exist -- and they believe just as strongly in keeping their existence a secret. Zan's never fought so hard to save a wolf -- or a man. The doctor can treat the wounded body, but only the woman can heal his wounded heart. It's been years since John's felt the touch of a woman's hand. Zan gives him a reason to want to live as a man again. But wolves mate for life. Before he can make that kind of promise, he's got unfinished business to take care of. A wolf defends what's his. Wolf's got a silver bullet to return to its owner.
eBook Publisher: Changeling Press LLC, Published: 2010, 2010
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2010
11 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [87 KB]
, ePub (EPUB) [111 KB]
, Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [44 KB]
, Portable Document Format (PDF) [325 KB]
, Palm Doc (PDB) [48 KB]
, Microsoft Reader (LIT) [169 KB]
, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [114 KB]
, hiebook (KML) [177 KB]
, Sony Reader (LRF) [127 KB]
, iSilo (PDB) [40 KB]
, Mobipocket (PRC) [51 KB]
, Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [130 KB]
, OEBFF Format (IMP) [71 KB]
Reading time: 42-59 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
Praise for Whiteout "The heat that builds between Suzanne and John is delicious to watch and when they finally get together, sparks fly." 4.5 Cherries! -- Holly, Whipped Cream Reviews
His breath came in deep, heavy pants that rattled his ribcage with every leaping stride, sending out moisture laden clouds which froze to his eyelashes in spiky crusts. And still he ran. He ran on instinct, blindly following paths he'd trodden for years, stumbling now and again on terrain he could see only in his mind.
Would have been a full moon tonight, were it not for the snow. He pictured the long expanse of tundra before him, frosted white, and desolate.
Instead he saw nothing. White out. Snow so dense it stung his nose with every breath.
Better this way. He wasn't the only one running blind.
His own fault, really. He'd been too easy a target. But he'd wanted to get home before the storm hit.
And now he'd never see home again.
Pain tore through him with every step. He'd been wounded before. Shot, even. Shot at more times than he'd care to admit. Enough times he should have known better. His kind couldn't afford to expose themselves. Not even at night. Not even at the start of a blizzard that promised the worst of winter's wrath.
This time, though... this time was different. This time was worse. Far, far worse. This time the pain slashed through him like a knife in his ribs with every shuddering breath he drew.
This time he wasn't going to heal.
Oh, it'd sealed over. He wasn't going to bleed to death. He'd die slow. Eventually, when he couldn't go on any more, he'd stumble, and this time he'd not get up. The cold would provide an escape from the unrelenting agony of the bullet buried deep in his side. When the pain finally brought him to his knees, when the cold won, he knew he'd feel warm again, for a bit. Then he'd feel nothing at all. Not such a bad way to go, really.
Except for the god-awful, burning pain.
The winds calmed as suddenly as they'd picked up, allowing the soft haze of the moonlight to penetrate the thickly falling snow. His nose told him what he should have known, would have known, had he been more alert. The pain was dulling his senses. He stopped, staring ahead into the night. The lights danced on the snow like faerie fire. The scene before him would have been beautiful, if not for the stench.
Garbage. Waste. Corruption. Pollutants. It all reeked of humanity.
Was that where he'd been going? Unconsciously seeking them out, the ones who might be able to help him?
No. It was their kind who'd shot him.
Better to die as he'd lived. Out here. Alone. Die as a wild thing. The only ones who'd ever know would be his own kind. The snow would cover him, blanket his body until spring thaw. Then someone would come across him, here, too close to the city, like a marker, a warning. Stay away from the humans. This is what they do to us.
They've killed me.