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didn’t know what she would do when she got there. All she knew was to run. To run away. To escape.
    Out of breath, she kept running, not caring where she was going. The footfalls behind her becoming louder, coming faster. She couldn’t see where she was running. In her mind, all she could see were several of her beloved wolves lying bloody on the ground beneath the waning moon—they had sacrificed themselves for her. She was heartbroken.
    Without warning, a hand gripped her hair and pulled her back. She yelped with pain as she was swung around and faced her aggressor. He was tall, dark, with dark eyes, unshaven, and disheveled, with blood trickling from his mouth. He grinned viciously, his crooked teeth discolored from tobacco stains, and his breath reeked of alcohol.
    “Preacher wants you.”
    Her brows furrowed as she tried to close her mind to his hateful thoughts. She could see his thoughts, the perpetual devotion he held for the man he called Preacher. She knew who Preacher was. He was the old priest

    Of Night and Desire
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    who had come for her when she was a child. He was the man who murdered her mother. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the painful memories and covered her ears to shut out his vicious thoughts.
    Her assailant chuckled low as he released her hair and grabbed her wrists, shaking her so she would open her eyes and face him. His grin had changed. He was now leering at her, licking his lips and pulling her against his body. She could feel his sorry excuse of an erection pressing against her thigh. She could see his ugly thoughts and they sickened her. She tried to pull her wrists free, but all he did was laugh at her pitiful attempts. He pushed her against a nearby tree and released her wrist, clutching one of her breasts instead. He gripped it painfully and smiled when she cringed.
    “Preacher wants you. He can have you…after.”
    He leaned in, his foul breath hot against her skin as she turned her head to avoid his lowering mouth. She opened her mind to reach for anyone who could help her. In that moment, all his evil and twisted thoughts entered her mind. She screamed as his lips touched her cheek. He pressed against her harder, trapping her between the tree and his body. He enjoyed tormenting her. Richelle knew what would happen if she couldn’t get away. With all the strength she could muster, she reached up and clawed his face, leaving deep gouges along his cheek.
    He flung her away and screeched in pain. Landing with an oomph amid the branches and brambles upon the forest floor, she scrambled to get to her feet. He grabbed her foot and pulled back. Turning over, she kicked wildly trying to get free. But his vise-like grip was impossible to break. He pulled himself up over her body, gritting his teeth against the sting of his face. He gripped her chin in his hand to turn her face toward him.
    “You will pay for that, bitch!” he spat. She struggled to turn away to no avail. Closing her eyes, she tried to squelch the revulsion she felt as he lowered his lips to kiss her.
    Suddenly, the crushing weight fell away, and she was free. She heard growling intermixed with shrieks of panic. She turned and opened her eyes to see that he was struggling against her silver-gray wolf. He was gripping the wolf on both sides of his jowls, trying to hold him off, but to no avail.
    She watched in utter shock as her wolf grabbed hold of her assailant’s neck and, with one mighty jerk, ripped out his throat.

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    Mia Bailey
    She didn’t move as she watched his life force flicker out with the blood that drained from his body. She felt no remorse in his death, for his life wasn’t worth living. He was a pitiless man thriving on the pain and humiliation of others who had chosen to follow a religious fanatic. There was no remorse nor joy, only relief that he was gone. The silver wolf released the man and came to her. He fell at her feet, exhausted. She leaned over and placed her head upon his, trying to