Jennifer Denys blog page: First Chapter of 'Torn Between Two Lovers'

Monday, 25 April 2016

First Chapter of 'Torn Between Two Lovers'

First Chapters – TBTL

I notice it’s been a couple of years since I posted the a first chapter from one of my books – so I will be adding the remaining ones over the next few months starting today with Torn Between Two Lovers.

TORN BETWEEN

TWO LOVERS

The Haunt of the Wolves 2

JENNIFER DENYS

Prologue

The Wolf Spirit felt a disturbance in the air around him and reluctantly opened his eyes.

A being didn’t have sleep in this realm of existence. It was more like eternal rest, except he kept getting called on to help his descendants. Lifting his muzzle, he sniffed, tasted the air, and then frowned. Something was wrong.

“Whatever is happening, it isn’t good! How dare these mortals do things I haven’t planned for them?”

Chuckling at his joke, he closed his eyes again and tried to concentrate sending out his thoughts to the other world to determine the exact problem.

Instead, images of the many times he had interfered in the doings of his people on earth came to him. He was pleased with the events that had gone his way in recent times—giving Max’s empathic skill a boost as the young shifter struggled to work out where their woman had gone, Griff’s expression of satisfaction when Lance went over the cliff, which was, in part, due to the entity and not so much Griff’s fighting skill, Tasha’s ménage with her men in the cave. Well, the latter hadn’t been his doing so much as hers. She just needed a confidence boost, although this was much harder to do as she was human with relatively few shifter genes.

And then other memories bubbled up, and he frowned. These

were ones where things hadn’t gone the way he intended—Ford confronting Griff in the werewolf BDSM club they called The Haunt, which caused Tasha to take fright and run away, nearly wrecking his plans for her, and Callum getting mauled by Lance’s gang when he tried to single-handedly save the girl from being kidnapped.

Lance…now why should he come to my thoughts so readily? After

all, he’s dead. Rotting in wolf-shifter hell. Isn’t he?

The Spirit shook his body, letting his fur stand on end before slowly subsiding. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a long time, making himself light-headed, and examined the visions that came to him.

Snapping his eyes open, the being tensed in shock.

It wasn’t Lance at all, but Darren, the former leader’s second-in- command. The entity had been aware that Darren had taken over as alpha of the misbegotten, malevolent, foul troop of werewolves, and there was little he could do to stop them. Their thoughts were so evil, nothing good penetrated. Consequently, they had continued their practice of dark BDSM. Only this time it was much worse. Instead of merely playing with the victims and using them for a perverted version of fun, they were torturing their prey until they were dead. The battered bodies then buried deep underground or burned.

Damn them. These are my people! How dare they?

The Spirit tried to ignore the thought pinging at the back of his brain that Darren, like Lance before him, was also one of his descendants.

No. There is little of me left in them. Too much human blood has infiltrated their genes, and not for the better. The entity might be manipulative, interfering, and controlling, but it was always for the good of his people. He hated the idea that any of his traits were being used for evil.

Suddenly pain sliced through his body, and he curled up in a heap trying to stop the agony. Panting to overcome the torment, the being took it into himself. Similar to what the subs went through at The Haunt when they went into sub-space, he was able to get a grip on his sensations after a few moments.

Someone was about to become Darren’s next target, someone the

Spirit had earmarked for his next pairing. This was another mating that would bring lost shifter genes back into the packs. So many qualities that he had exhibited when he had been mortal had dissipated over the centuries. In order to integrate into human society and avoid being singled out as freaks, many of his people had denied their wolf sides and married outside the packs. And those that were left were just not producing the numbers of cubs to continue the genes sufficiently.

“Noooo! Not Evie. I need her.” The entity had worked hard to

drive Evie in the direction he had wanted her to go, moving to Deer Park, away from her family who were just content to remain in their human selves. Then discovering her interest in BDSM, he pushed her to attend The Haunt, a building the wolf-shifters used to conduct their sadomasochism evenings. He thought she might find someone with whom to mate, bringing the human-werewolf genes inherited from her maternal family back into the gene pool.

He frowned. It hadn’t been part of his plan for her to fall in love with her Dom, Stefan. That one had quite enough wolf blood. No, Evie needed to entice a human with the right ancestry to join the pack and mate with her. Maybe The Haunt wasn’t the right place after all. He made a face. The Shroud he had invented kept humans away from the building usually, so that plan stopped stone dead.

The question was how could he avoid her becoming the next victim of Darren’s gang before that could be achieved? He couldn’t rescue her himself, as he was noncorporeal, but instead he needed to manipulate those on the mortal world.