Lycan Lore Read online

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  LYCAN LORE

  by

  SHANNON LEIGH

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

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  Lycan Lore

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

  http://www.amberheat.com

  http://www.amber-allure.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2007 by Shannon Leigh

  ISBN 978-1-60272-137-1

  Cover Art © 2007 Trace Edward Zaber

  Layout and Formatting

  Provided by: Elemental Alchemy

  Published in the United States of America

  Also by Shannon Leigh

  Chinatown Buffet

  Greenwood Manor

  More Than Prophecy

  Nana's Little Black Book

  Stairway To Heaven

  Dedication

  To my family, for supporting me in all I do.

  And to my children,

  for filling my life with so much joy.

  Chapter 1

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  "How're ya comin' over there, Cassie?" Heather yelled from the opposite corner of their tree-infested campsite.

  Cassandra grunted in response. She fumbled with her tent, wondering how she'd allowed herself to be talked into coming with Heather and Graham in the first place. While she had to admit she'd enjoyed camping with her parents as a child, and the great outdoors certainly afforded a serenity one couldn't find in the confines of an apartment, she hadn't camped in years.

  Oh, yeah, now she remembered. It was the promise of finding some brawny Tarzan in the depths of Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. Somehow, the prospect seemed highly unlikely. They'd been there nearly two hours already and she'd scarcely seen a male candidate that wasn't either toting a spare tire around his midriff, or a female counterpart and a succession of kids.

  Throwing down a mess of bungee-corded poles with disgust, she debated just sleeping beneath the stars instead. Now she wished she'd paid more attention to her parents while they'd set up camp, instead of chasing butterflies and frolicking in the brush. Of course, she'd been just a little girl then, and kids didn't think about those things.

  Cassandra worried her bottom lip. How the heck can I set up a tent when I can't even get the frame together?

  Camping should be about roughing it. Where was the sport in erecting a man-made shelter of plastic dowels simulated to look like wood and flimsy flag material, when nature had provided them an abundance of trees with leaves so thick one could scarcely see the darkening sky beneath the hulking canopy?

  Besides, she had an air mattress, several pillows, and a brand-spanking new pink camouflaged sleeping bag--she loved pink. What else did she need? Aside from rain, a tent offered little protection against anything formidable.

  Except spiders. She groaned inwardly, watching as a gangly daddy long-leg scurried away from her discarded rods.

  She'd forgotten about those. Caterpillars, butterflies, even crickets were tolerable. Spiders were another matter. While she knew they weren't poisonous, she'd hated them as a child, too.

  Perhaps she needed a tent after all. The thought of those creepy-crawlies converging on her whilst she slept made her shudder with distaste. Mosquitoes would be another problem.

  Refusing to subject her tender flesh to the barbarism of thousands of winged bloodsuckers, she snatched the crumpled instructions from the edge of the wooden picnic table next to her designated spot.

  "Step one," she mumbled aloud, starting at the top. "Lay tent material flat, being sure to have reinforced floor on ground, and doorway facing desired entry direction."

  Cassandra glanced at her deflated shelter. So far so good.

  "Step two, assemble frame poles by placing ends into attached metal sleeves. Set aside."

  This was where she had problems. The instructions made assembling the frame sound far easier than it was. The darn sticks refused to slide into the metal sleeves. She'd already bent a few trying to force them into place.

  All right, Cassandra. You can do this, she assured herself, trying to be more optimistic than she felt.

  The stupid box depicted an adolescent kid and his father assembling the damned thing. Surely a twenty-seven-year-old woman with a bachelor's of science in psychology could accomplish the feat. She rubbed her throbbing temples with the tips of her index and middle fingers.

  Graham would help if she asked, but dammit! She could figure this out on her own. She shouldn't need a man's help for something so trivial.

  There's got to be a logical approach to this.

  After nearly twenty minutes of unwrapping and untwisting her lot of disheveled poles, she'd organized the mess of protruding sticking and knotted stretchy-cords into five neat piles, three of which had three-sections, while the remaining ones only had two. She figured there was a good reason for that, she just wasn't too sure what it might be.

  "Does it matter which poles I put together first?" she called to Graham.

  "Nope."

  He's a lot of help.

  Grumbling beneath her breath, she laid one of the three-sectioned poles along the ground, trying to line up the ends of each piece with its adjacent metal sleeve. Starting at the lower section, she slid the end of the stick into the connector, being careful to hold the pieces horizontal to one another. Surprisingly, it slipped into place without protest.

  Cassandra attacked the remaining piles with new fervor, feeling a little more confident in her abilities. When she'd finished all five, she consulted her instructions once again, picking up at step three. "Slide longer frame poles through sleeves on tent roof, crisscrossing them over the center."

  She peered around the edge of her paper, eyeballing her flaccid shelter. How could a mass of flimsy, wrinkled material be so intimidating? Setting her directions aside, she took the end of one long pole and finagled it through the fabric sleeve across the tent's roof, sliding the floppy dowel forward until she reached what she estimated to be the middle. Then she repeated the task with the remaining two poles.

  Cassandra scrutinized the results. Her tent looked like some kind of wounded animal with spears jutting from its innards. She shook her head. On to step four.

  "Starting with poles on either side of doorway, secure ends on ringed metal spikes. Repeat with opposite ends, carefully lifting center of tent into standing position. Note, this step requires at least two people."

  Feeling sweat trickle along her scalp, Cassandra scratched her head. So much for doing this on my own.

  "Hey, Graham? I think I might need some help here."

  He didn't reply.

  Cassandra glanced over at Heather and Graham's finished shelter and snorted with disgust. They know what they're doing, she told herself, trying not to feel like an idiot.

  "Guys? You in there?"

  She walked over to their tent, listening intently for any telltale sounds of fooling around. The last thing she wanted to see was her best friend getting it on with her boyfriend. She knew the likelihood of them remaining celibate on this camping excursion were slim to none--frankly, she couldn't blame them, she'd love to have someone to snuggle up with tonight--but she had no desir
e to witness what Heather described as some straight-up kinky sex.

  "Hello?"

  Cassandra peered through the doorway. Except for a double-sized sleeping bag laid neatly in the center, the inside was empty. A quick sweep of the rest of their site confirmed that they'd both apparently left.

  Damn! Now what do I do?

  She stared at her lifeless shelter, all skewered and deflated.

  Surely I can get the center up myself. With a determined huff, she tossed the heavy end of her thick braid over her right shoulder and started toward her tent.

  She'd at least give it her best try. If all else failed, she'd simply wait until the others returned, admit defeat, and ask for help. They shouldn't be gone long. After all, it'd be dark in a couple more hours.

  Cassandra stooped next to the pole on the right side of the tent doorway. Taking hold of the jutting end, she bent the pliable rod into an arch. Then, using her free hand, she searched through the tent fabric and located the metal ring.

  The hollowed end of the dowel slipped easily into place. She released the skewered pole and stepped to the other side of the doorway. The weight of the fabric on the bowed rod immediately caused it to sway to the side.

  "Dammit!"

  Cassandra leapt forward, grabbing it before it hit the ground. Now she understood why the instructions suggested having an extra pair of hands. Chewing her lower lip, she debated her dilemma.

  Darkness approached quickly. The cover of trees above dimmed the light even more. Soon she wouldn't be able to see at all. She didn't have time to wait on Heather and Graham to return.

  Cassandra huffed, blowing a wayward lock of curly red hair out of her eyes. She decided to secure the rod's opposite end before moving to the next one. Perhaps she could balance it once both were in place.

  Arching the pliant dowel, she tugged the fabric along the bend, slowly raising the center above her head. When she reached the opposite side without mishap, she began to feel a little more confident. Maybe she didn't need help after all.

  Cassandra slipped the hollowed end onto the metal stake. Holding the taut rod with her right hand, she reached to the jutting dowel on her left. If she could just balance the first one while she secured the next...

  The floppy arch jutted sharply to the right. "Oh no! Don't fall!" she begged, lunging for her collapsing shelter. Her fingernails scraped the fabric as it pitched beyond her reach.

  Just when she thought she'd been defeated, a thick muscled forearm shot over her head, catching the fleeting form. "Looks like you could use a hand," a deep voice rumbled above.

  "Thanks," Cassandra breathed heavily, a little taken aback by the man's sudden appearance.

  Not knowing what else to do, she crawled out of the way while he pulled the bent rod back into place. Reaching the outer edge of the fabric, she stepped onto the ground and stood to face her timely savior. She wasn't sure where he'd come from, but she was grateful he'd arrived.

  Chapter 2

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  Her assessing gaze slowly took in his full six-foot frame, starting with the weathered brown work boots adorning his large feet. They looked aged but comfortable, though their thick-ridged soles seemed more apt for climbing or hiking rather than work.

  Worn jeans clung to his brawny thighs and square hips, the softened material outlining the strength in his legs and sizable groin with unsettling clarity. Cassandra blushed, focusing instead on the ragged hole marring the material over his right knee. Hoping he hadn't noticed her wayward investigation of his crotch, she continued her appraisal.

  A blue and red plaid shirt hung loose and open from broad shoulders and a wide chest, layered over a slightly stained white tank top that adhered nicely to his bulging pecs and taut abs. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing his darkly tanned forearms. A sprinkling of fine brown hair covered his skin.

  Her gaze settled on the dark curls blanketing his upper chest. She had the strangest urge to slide her hands through the wiry wisps, tangle her fingers within that glorious nest of manliness. She could almost feel the tendrils wrapping around her skin.

  God! She loved a hairy chest.

  The man cleared his throat, instantly drawing her attention to his face. Cassandra's cheeks grew warm. How long had she been staring? Five, ten seconds? Oh, Lord! She must look a fool.

  Her stint of self-reproach halted the moment their eyes met. She vaguely took in the dark locks of chocolate-colored hair feathering his brow, the day's worth of near black stubble covering his square chin and sharp jaw, and the appealing tilt to his firm mouth. But it was his eyes that held her captivated.

  Even across the span of five feet between them, they were such a piercing green they hailed her full attention. Not the color of emerald or forest, but rather the stark hue of spring leaves, so bright and radiant they must have been gifted by Mother Nature herself. Or perhaps the devil had granted that soul-startling stare, for there was certainly something feral within those neon depths that made her heart pound with a mixture of excitement and fear.

  It wasn't until she gasped for air that Cassandra realized she'd held her breath. "Sorry, you kinda startled me," she fumbled, feeling like an idiot.

  He chuckled. "You looked like you could use a little help."

  The words caressed her ears, then trickled down her spine, causing her to shudder. Cassandra absently nodded. "Yes, thank you," she replied tightly.

  Had his lips moved? She didn't recall. Surely so. He had spoken, after all.

  Something about him struck her as odd. His clothes were old and a little unkempt. His hair hadn't seen a comb in at least a day--nothing unusual for someone who'd been camping. Yet, its disheveled appearance only added to his rugged allure.

  Still, uneasiness knotted her insides. Something didn't seem right about him. Where exactly had he come from?

  She inconspicuously glanced about the surrounding campsites. All were vacant. It was almost as though he'd simply emerged from the trees.

  "If you could just hold that in place, I'll set the other posts," she offered, then started toward the protruding dowel on her left without waiting for his reply.

  "So...are you camping nearby?" She hoped she didn't sound too inquisitive.

  If he was some crazy serial killer, she certainly didn't want to encourage him. However, if he were simply a fellow camper happening by, she wouldn't mind finding out a little more about him. A quick glance at his bare left hand suggested he might be single.

  There was a long pause before he answered. Finding his silence a little disquieting, Cassandra glanced over at him. His eyes locked hers in a dominating stare, holding her gaze captive for several long seconds.

  Her pulse raced. She suddenly felt hot and sticky. More sweat trickled along her brow. Just when she thought she'd look away, he offered a strangely calming smile.

  "Actually, I'm up on Miner's Ridge, above Gold Bluffs Beach. I was just on my way to use the showers when I noticed your distress."

  Cassandra arched her right brow with suspicion. "Don't they have showers where you're at?"

  He grinned. "Not in backcountry. That's primitive camping at its finest."

  "Primitive," she scoffed. "Camping doesn't get much more primitive than this."

  He chuckled at her sarcasm. "I guess that depends on whether or not you consider running water and flushing toilets a luxury."

  "Oh."

  She hadn't thought about that. While their site was at the back of Elk Prairie campgrounds, the closest showers and flushing toilets were only a quarter mile down the road--well within walking distance.

  Thank God for modern conveniences.

  Returning to the task at hand, she slipped the metal spike into the frame post's hollowed sleeve, then stepped around the tent to secure the other end. Even without looking, she felt his eyes follow her backside. Another shudder wracked her frame, and when she bent to place the pole, she noticed that her hands shook.

  Realizing she hadn't eaten in hours, she knew sh
e'd pushed herself a little too far. She'd squatted and crawled all over that damned campsite, fighting with her tent. It was time to take a break.

  Sweat drenched her shirt, causing it to cling to her moist skin. She needed something to drink, but the coolers were in the truck with Heather and Graham. Until they returned, she was pretty much shit-out-of-luck.

  Despite the twittering of birds overhead, the buzz of bees whizzing by, and the chirping of crickets in the brush, stillness had settled in the air. Cassandra drew in a long, tight breath, feeling the calm like a blanket over her head, stifling, suffocating. She felt weak and dizzy.

  Her head began to swim as she struggled to breathe. Although she was already crouched low, the ground tilted sharply and she sat down heavily on her backside. Stark panic gripped her insides. She was going to faint.

  Sensing her distress, the man instantly released the curved dowel and rushed to her aid. It lurched to the right, taking the raised tent with it, and landed on the ground with a clack! Dismissing the fallen structure, he squatted down in front of her.

  "Are you okay?" Concern knitted his thick brows.

  Cassandra tried to shake her head, but it merely lolled back on her neck as her vision began to fail. "I think I'm going to--"

  "Hey! Don't pass out on me," he yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and preventing her from falling back onto the ground.

  "Can you hear me?" He gave her a hard shake.

  Cassandra forced her head up and her eyes open. She focused on his handsome face, mere inches from her own. "I need a drink," she murmured.

  "Here, you can have my Coke. Can you sit without falling over?"

  She nodded and leaned forward onto her hands, propping herself up.