Rogue unloved, p.1
Rogue Unloved, page 1
CONTENTS
Introduction
Shapeshifter Series by Eve Langlais
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Also by Eve Langlais
Copyright © 2021 /2022 Eve Langlais
Cover by Joolz & Jarling (Julie Nicholls & Uwe Jarling) © 2021/2022
Produced in Canada
Published by Eve Langlais
http://www.EveLanglais.com
E-ISBN: 978 177 384 3131
Print ISBN: 978 177 384 3148
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This book is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.
INTRODUCTION
Rogues aren’t supposed to fall in love.
Lochlan’s been lying low for a while and would have remained hidden forever if Luna hadn’t come along.
The woman is trouble, and this cynical wolf knows he should walk away. Whatever crisis she’s dealing with isn’t his problem. However, he can’t abandon his mate.
Yup. His freaking mate. So much for thinking he’d die grumpy and alone. Despite not being crazy about the idea, he can’t ignore her—or the danger stalking her.
A threat that might extend to all of Werekind.
Like hell.
Whoever is responsible better run far and fast, because this rogue won’t hesitate to kill for the ones he loves.
For more info on this book or more Eve Langlais titles, please visit, EveLanglais.com.
SHAPESHIFTER SERIES BY EVE LANGLAIS
Growl and Prowl
A Lion's Pride
Kodiak Point
Bitten Point
Dragon Point
Freakn' Shifters
Pack
Find even more books at EveLanglais.com
PROLOGUE
Four decades ago…
* * *
“Pay attention!”
The sharp rap of the ruler across knuckles brought tears to Luna’s eyes, but she knew better than to cry. The nuns who ran the orphanage didn’t tolerate whining or misbehavior.
Her crime? She’d been caught staring out the window, longing for the sunshine and fresh air just out of reach. How she missed it. Day in and day out, the orphans went from the dormitory to the classroom or the church then back to the dorm. That schedule allowed for only a short outdoor break where they could breathe fresh air and stretch their legs. Not enough for a growing girl—and torture for the wolf inside.
Before Luna could earn another bruise from the strict nun, she ducked her head and resumed practicing her cursive letters then moved on to mathematics and science, followed by an hour of prayer before dinner, chores, and more prayer as they readied for bed.
Every day was the same. Despite being here just a few weeks, Luna barely remembered a time before the orphanage and its strict schedule. Only her mother’s face, and her yipped admonishment to run the last time Luna had seen her, remained clear.
Luna had run, even as she’d heard the gunshots. She’d run and run, until she could run no more. When a pair of hikers found her, she’d been naked and covered in scratches. The strangers had brought her to town and dropped her off at the police station, where a uniformed man with a big, bushy mustache questioned her, his burly manner frightening to a small child.
The kinder social worker had better luck getting answers.
“Who are you?”
“Luna Smith.”
“Where are your parents?”
“I lost my mom in the woods.”
“Where do you live?”
“I don't know.”
They'd moved so often and rarely stayed in one place for long. They’d even lived in a car, until the engine died. They'd been walking ever since. It had been a while since Luna had been in school.
A different social worker had temporarily placed Luna in a foster home while they’d searched for her mother. For three days, the police searched, only to fail to find her mama. Given Luna’s age—seven, with a birthday coming up in the fall—they’d chosen to transfer her from the foster home, which was better suited for younger children, to an orphanage run by nuns.
She hated it.
Every day, Luna hoped her mother would appear and take her away from this cold and scary place. However, no one came to rescue Luna.
At least not all the sisters were mean. Some could be quite nice and comforting to a little girl, but they didn't smell right. Nor did they hug Luna when she was sad. Or care when she wanted more meat to eat instead of oatmeal and stew.
When the full moon rolled around, the first since her arrival—the last being the night she’d lost Mama—Luna thought nothing of sitting in the dormitory window to admire it. It tickled her skin. She closed her eyes, basking in it. Her wolf wanted to come out and play, but Luna knew better. Mama always said to keep it a secret.
“What are you doing out of bed?” The harsh rebuke came from Sister Francine, one of the younger but more severe nuns.
“I was admiring the moon. It’s so pretty.” Luna pointed at it.
“The moon is for those who love the devil. Do you worship Satan?”
Luna gaped. She hadn’t even known about God and the devil before she’d arrived at the orphanage. That ignorance had led to an old man in robes flinging water in her face and chanting. A baptism the nuns called it, to ensure her soul didn’t go to Hell if she died.
“No, Sister Francine, I would never worship the devil.”
“And yet, here you are, doing his work, out of bed, obviously praying to him.”
The accusation confused her. “But I—”
“Don’t you sass me!”
Luna couldn’t avoid the switch the sister wielded—freshly cut every day so as to keep them in line. It whipped against her bare arms peeking from the nightdress.
“Ow.” She couldn’t stop the sharp exclamation.
“That didn’t hurt.”
“It did,” Luna insisted, lips wobbling as tears brimmed. Mama had never hit her. No one had. This kind of pain was new.
“Liar! Devil’s handmaiden.” The switch came down again and again, even as the moon seemed to get brighter.
Luna’s pain and fear swirled into anger. This was unfair. Why was she being punished for something she used to do every full moon with Mama?
“I hate you,” Luna screamed.
As Sister Francine brought down the lash again, Luna grabbed for the switch, her little hands gripping it tight.
The act of defiance led to a rapid slap that snapped her head back, and her teeth clacked hard, nipping her tongue. She tasted blood, and more tears welled.
She might be young, but she knew what Francine was doing was wrong. Evil. And according to the nuns, the Bible said to fight evil. She knew only one way to do that.
As her anger exploded, so did her wolf.
Caught in a rage, wanting only to stop the pain—not just that of her whipped hands and arms but the pain in her sad heart too—Luna found satisfaction for her frustration. It took strident screaming from the other orphans for her to snap out of it. By the time the other nuns arrived, Sister Francine was crawling to the door, bleeding from the many scratches and bite marks peppered all over her body.
The shock in the gazes of those around Luna fizzled her anger and shriveled her up inside, because she saw fear and disgust. They thought her a monster.
And perhaps she was. No one else had blood in their mouth.
She deflated, fur receding, skin reappearing, a weak child once more.
The nuns lunged, and Luna didn’t fight them as they dragged her from the dormitory to a storage room, where they locked her in. She hugged her bare knees—she’d lost her nightgown when she’d shifted. Not for the first time, she had no blanket to cover her. But before, she’d had Mama. Now, she was alone.
The days after were a blur that involved forced prayer overseen by various nuns that left her knees raw and her voice hoarse. She went to the bathroom in a bucket, though not often, as they fed her only once a day and only barely.
According to the nuns, something was wrong with Luna. She worships the devil, some whispered. Monster, said others. They made the cross every time they saw her and never made eye contact. They feared and hated her.
The priest who’d flung water at her returned, this time to cast out the demon he claimed possessed her. He doused her in holy water. Fasted with her. Prayed for an annoying amount of time. Did God really listen to such inane prattle? Daily, he demanded Luna renounce the devil. In hopes of stopping the torture, she agreed. She’d do anything to g
She might have succeeded in holding in her wolf, except the nuns thought it a brilliant idea to force her to confront the devil’s embrace—which, in her case, was moonlight.
They forced her to kneel on the stone slabs inside the chapel. The thin material of her pants barely cushioned her knees against the hard surface. Hands clasped, she prayed as the sun went down, illuminating the stained glass and framing the cross with the hanging figure of Jesus.
She prayed right through dinner, her throat parched. Her knees hurt. She couldn’t stop. If she could prove she’d cast out the devil, if she kept her wolf inside, she would gain her freedom.
She just had to be strong.
Hail Mary…
The moon rose, glinting through the windows on the east side, bathing her in its silvery light.
Luna held firm against the urge within.
…full of grace.
She repeated the words to the rosary over and over, a fast whisper that was working. She was in control. She could hide like Mama had told her to.
“Repent!” The shout came with a slap that rocked her head hard.
Luna bit her tongue, and coppery blood flavored her mouth.
She started over with her prayer. “Hail Mary—”
“Repent the devil,” Sister Francine screamed before grabbing Luna’s hair and tugging uncomfortably.
It hurt, and by the mad glint in the sister’s eyes, Luna knew that the pain would get worse. And no one would stop her. Those watching did not interfere.
“Repent, unclean minion of Lucifer.”
“No.”
“What did you say, Satan’s handmaiden?” Francine hissed.
“I said, no more.”
“You don’t get to say when I’m done.” Francine gripped Luna’s hair tighter.
The pain served only to make Luna’s wolf stronger.
“You might want to run,” was Luna’s soft advice.
She called her wolf. Welcomed it amidst the screams of “Monster!”
That night, she was. Luna rampaged first through the church then the orphanage, snapping at anyone who confronted her. She wanted to escape, and yet, despite their fear, the nuns wouldn’t unlock the doors. The windows were barred.
Eventually, Luna became too exhausted to fight.
She passed out, waking when the nuns, some of them obviously wounded, dragged her naked and exhausted body back to the closet.
Three days later, during which no one came even to feed her, the professor arrived, a kindly older gentleman who smiled at Luna and said, “Come with me, child.”
She eyed him with suspicion.
“I’m Dr. Adams. I’m here because I heard about your unusual circumstances. I think I can help you.”
“Can you find my mama?” In her mind, that was the only thing that could end this nightmare.
“I can try. In the meantime, you can stay with me. I have a room that’s perfect for a young lady like yourself.”
His kind expression and offer tempted her.
The nun at the door muttered, “Don’t know why he wants the monster.”
Tears pricked her eyes. I’m not a monster.
Dr. Adams knelt to eye level with her, and as if he read her mind, he said, “You’re just misunderstood. Come with me. I promise you won’t ever have to deal again with the sisters.”
A promise she couldn’t refuse.
When he reached out a hand, she dumbly took it.
What followed weren’t years she cared to remember, and to this day, they’d left their mark.
She managed to keep the damage a secret until the day a depraved human hunter forced her to shift into the monster that had been hiding inside her for decades.
ONE
The present.
* * *
Wow, did I majorly fuck up.
Luna had gravely miscalculated. Not something that happened often, and yet, as she faced a human hunter thought long dead, she faced a harsh truth. She’d been betrayed. Not just her, though, but all of Werekind.
The man in front of her, one Gerard Kline, hadn’t just captured her. For decades now, he’d been sadistically killing her kind. And he’d gotten away with it because he’d had help. By Gerard’s own admission, someone highly placed in the Lykosium Council, which regulated all things Were and the lesser-known others, had been giving Gerard help. Someone Luna and everyone else trusted had facilitated genocide, and they would pay dearly for it. Right after she killed Gerard and silenced his flapping lips.
At times like these, she really wished she weighed a few more pounds.
Eyeing the male in front of her, Luna gauged his strength versus hers. She had no weapon, and a quick check showed that the overconfident Gerard lacked a gun. All he had was a glass of booze on the tall pub table and two pouches. She’d have to act fast, before his paid soldiers interfered.
As she bolted toward him, her backup, a grizzly and grumpy Were named Lochlan, leaped for the kill. Gerard moved faster than expected, his hand slipping into an open pouch and emerging to fling some powder.
The beautiful wolf hit the floor, unconscious. Not dead. Not yet.
Gerard smirked at Luna in triumph. “They never learn. Want a turn?” He dug his hand into the other pouch.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she muttered.
Determined to not suffer the same fate, Luna held her breath as she passed through the handful of dust flung by Gerard. It glittered as it momentarily hung in the air like a cloud. Not one iota entered her mouth or nose. However, it settled on her bare hands and face.
Before she’d even blinked, her skin absorbed the powder and the ripping pain as fire coursed through her veins tore a scream from her throat. The chemical chain reaction happening in her body burned, and she gasped as it forced her to shift, something she’d not done in a long, long time—and for good reason.
Luna tried to hold it back. To not let herself lose control.
Her jaw cracked as it reshaped, and as the beast within shoved her out of the driver’s seat, she uttered a long, eerie howl.
Now we’re fucked.
That was her last coherent thought before she became a monster.
TWO
The beast emerged from her long slumber and roared. It felt good to be free at last. Free to run, fight. Hunt...
Hunger tightened her belly. She eyed the two-legged, soft-skinned prey in front of her. He returned her stare, eyes wide with fear, and retreated like a coward. Smelled like food to her.
She lunged, and her claws sliced through flesh. Blood flowed, and the coppery tang woke her tastebuds. How long since she’d eaten fresh meat?
Too long.
Not long enough. Her thought and yet not at the same time.
The male screamed and tried to stem the flow of blood from his wound. Noisy creature. She batted again, knocking him to the floor, and might have had a nibble if not for an intruding scent. A reminder that she had another task.
My pup is in danger.
Kit.
The name had no meaning, but it came with a need to protect.
With a roar, she barreled toward the window. Glass shattered as she slammed through, the slices to her furred skin mere stinging inconveniences.
Once outside, she lifted her head and howled, a warning to those hunting her pup, a clarion call as well that she was coming to the rescue.
Following her pup’s scent, she dashed for the woods wreathed in shadows and moist with dew. She didn’t run alone. A wolf followed, his scent familiar. Very pleasing.
Mine.
Her mate, who remained as yet unmarked. She would rectify that, but only once she’d secured her pup.
