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//-->The Medieval Werewolf BundleBy Charlotte MistryCopyright 2012 Charlotte MistryDiscover other titles by Charlotte Mistry at herAmazon page.Cover stock source by Kurschelirmel-stock and KristinKK. Stock used under creativecommons license 3.0Table of ContentsThe Lord’s Pet WolfWolf WeddingKidnapped by a WolfThe Lord’s Pet WolfBy Charlotte MistryThe snow was bitterly cold under Erik’s cheek. It had stung, at first, but he was wellinto the dull, numbed acceptance that he was never going to be feeling much of anythingever again. How long had he lain here at the side of the road? Two hours? Three? Longenough for the slow, silent snow to bury him in a thin white blanket. He’d stopped evenfeeling the cold.It was a bad sign, he knew. He couldn’t make himself get up. Every time the ideadrifted through his exhaustion-fogged brain he could only brush at its edges, andclimbing to his feet seemed no easier than climbing a mountain. No one was coming forhim. An outcast of his pack, friendless and unloved, it was a wonder that he’d survivedthis long at all.No matter what any proverb said, wolves were social creatures. They weren’t meantto survive alone, and he very likely wasn’t going to.He stared with dull interest at his hands. He could see his own claw-tipped fingersgoing pale and bluish, his heat seeping away. The little cold he could still feel would beeasier to bear in the shape of an animal, but the very idea of forcing the change in hiscondition seemed insurmountable. All he could do was lie there, too numb to worry.He drifted for what felt like eons. Was this what dying felt like? The thin white layerof snow became an intricate, crystalline palace in his mind. Sparks of dreams- ofmemories- fractured like glass and wavered before him in whirlpool fractals thatthreatened to drag him down.He mouthed along to words he half-remembered, but the meaning was gone. He wasfrozen, he was fading, he was dead already and just didn’t know it, and the light off theice was a blinding inferno and absolution both.Someone touched his face.Erik blinked, syrup-slow, and there were words but he didn’t understand them. Hisworld was a kaleidoscope of blurred colors and shapes. He felt himself being lifted andhe whined, low in his throat.The arms around him were like burning brands, searing loops of iron he couldn’t fightagainst. He was too slow, too clumsy, and as he was dragged into a warm carriage it waslike being dumped into molten iron.Everything was both sharp and dull all at once: too much and too little. His fingerstwitched as he lay against some padded surface and he couldn’t close his hand; his boneswere ice, his skin on fire. There were more words he couldn’t process. Dimly, he felt thecarriage start moving.Burning hot hands brushed his hair away from his face, and the last bit of frayed cordtethering him to consciousness gave way. He fell down into darkness.***Erik was warm.It was such a foreign sensation that he didn’t understand it, for the longest time. Itwas the absolute absence of cold, of pain, and he drifted in that shallow, dim awarenessjust marveling at it. He was lying on something soft. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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