Shadow's Curse Read Online Free

dowerless nobody as his wife, but he knew better. Callista Hawthorne would bring him the world as her marriage portion.

2

    The gang closed in on the woman from two sides, leaving her nowhere to run but toward the alley. False hope, for that way ended in a brick wall. Too high to jump, and while the stones of the empty tenement backing onto the passage were held with barely more than plaster and a promise, no slip of a female would be able to bring them down and win a way out.
    Alone, she was as good as caught, and judging by the ripe odors of alcohol and brutality rising from the men, she’d be lucky to escape with her life, much less her honor. She must have known it, too, for she grabbed up a broken plank, holding it in front of her like a sword. Or like someone who’d never handled a sword might hold one. She whipped the board from side to side, her eyes darting between her captors as they circled.
    David slunk from his position in the lee of St. Martin’s Lane, threading the mews, coming up behind the old tailor’s shop. Then through the broken crawl space under the abandoned brewery before arriving at the other side of the wall. Six and a half feet straight up.His fur rippled with excitement. A growl vibrated low in his chest.
    Too high for the woman.
    An easy leap for a wolf.
    He took a short approach before curling his back legs under and vaulting skyward with every ounce of force, front paws stretched for the ledge. A momentary scramble, and he was up.
    His gaze moved slowly over the tableau spread beneath him. The woman backed against the wall, her cloak thrown off her shoulders to reveal a heavy satchel dragging her off-balance, her arms wobbling under the continued weight of the plank as her attackers chortled and swaggered with their success. The fizz and burn of Fey-blood magic jangled at the base of his brain, crawled over his skin. Which one of the group bore the blood of the Other in their veins? David tried focusing on the source, but he was interrupted by the woman’s scream as one of her attackers slammed her against the bricks. His mates cheered him on as he tore the plank from her hands and pressed against her, groping his way under her cloak to squeeze her breast.
    “How dare you!” She lashed out, her palm connecting with his cheek.
    “Spitfire, this one is.”
    “Don’t let Corey see ya pawing the girl, Bates. He’ll cut your dick off and shove it up your arse.”
    “Just softening ’er up is all.” Bates released her with a shove, but his lecherous, wild-eyed look remained. She scrambled for the plank, but he kicked it to the side and out of reach. “Your brother’s worrit sick about you, he is, miss. Wouldn’t want somethin’ to happen to ye alone in the big city at night. Mayhap you’ll runinto a fella who’d want to stuff his cock into ye . . . or mayhap a whole group of fellas with stiff cocks. What-cha think of that?”
    The others sniggered.
    A mite early for gloating. David’s lips curled back in a toothy grimace, a low snarl rolling up from deep in his throat to bounce eerily between buildings. Immediately, what had been an easy abduction erupted into chaos. They looked up, freezing under the inhuman stare from the enormous black shadow, their frightened shouts warming his heart, his laughter sounding as another low, frightening growl.
    In one flowing move, David leapt from the wall and sank his teeth into Bates’s arm. The blood leaked hot into his mouth, bones cracking under the pressure. The man’s face went chalk-white, his mouth opening and closing in a silent scream. Shaking him from side to side, David thrilled at the man’s choking gasps and jerking blood-spattering twitches before he went silent and then limp. Passed out? Dead? David didn’t care. The vile filth had been a rapist and a murderer.
    “. . . monster from the papers . . .”
    “. . . Devil of Dawlish Street . . .”
    David lifted his head, lips pulled back from his fangs in a