Free Wild Dream by Donna Grant Page A

closer to them?
    “Faster,” Christian urged in a whisper.
    A shrill cry of pain sounded from one of the wolves. Lincoln paid it little heed. His gaze was ahead of them, looking for the bend in the bayou that would signal Chiasson land. It wasn’t that much farther. Just another half mile or so.
    The waters of the bayou were deeper in this end. Too deep for a werewolf to try and take them, but there was one place they could. It was called the Bridge, although it wasn’t man-made. The waters created it in the bayou long ago. There was a slim area of water between two outcroppings of land where only one canoe could fit.
    If even one werewolf were there, it spelled doom for Ava. It was a death trap. Lincoln’s only other choice was to pull over and try their luck on land. With as fast as the wolves ran, they stood a better chance on the water.
    Thanks to the light of the moon and its reflection off the water, Lincoln spotted the Bridge ahead. The crashing through the brush on either side of them said the weres had caught them. As they drifted closer to the Bridge, Lincoln pulled his oar from the water. Christian did the same and raised his crossbow.
    “They’re your family,” Ava said softly to Christian.
    “And they’re trying to kill you,” he replied.
    Lincoln hated how torn he was. He didn’t want to kill them, but he refused to allow them to end Ava’s life.  
    Ava shifted to look at him over her shoulder. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you kill your family. I’m an outsider here, Lincoln. A nobody. That’s your family.”
    Lincoln’s attention was pulled away when he saw Solomon’s silver fur out of the corner of his eye. He ground his teeth together when Solomon calmly walked out onto one side of the Bridge and looked across to the other.
    “Son of a bitch,” Christian murmured angrily.
    Ava shook her head at Lincoln. “No.”
    To the right, Lincoln spotted a dark mass moving through the trees. Kane. He would bunch them in. Which of the LaRue brothers would attack first? Lincoln could already guess their plan. While one attacked and he and Christian fended them off, the other would claim Ava.
    It was simple and flawless, especially with the power and size of the wolves.  
    There was just one tiny catch – they forgot who they were going up against.
    Christian caught his gaze and gave him a small nod. Beau and Vincent were out there, waiting. Lincoln lowered his paddle back into the water to steer them directly at the narrow slit of water.
    Ava gripped the oar, her eyes locked on Solomon. Fear kept her muscles tight, preventing her from moving, which was exactly what Lincoln wanted.
    The distance to the Bridge grew shorter and shorter. Solomon’s large head turned in their direction. Family didn’t turn against family. If Solomon and Kane wanted to go after someone the Chiassons were protecting, then all bets were off.
    Lincoln and his brothers might not be able to shift into a werewolf, but they weren’t lacking in surprises and skill. The LaRues were going to learn a thing or two about them.
    They were ten feet from the Bridge when Kane burst through the trees and skidded to a stop on his outcropping. He barked and growled, his huge claws pawing the ground.
    Solomon took a step closer to the edge, but paused before he set down his paw. Christian cursed when Solomon took a step back. Lincoln could guess that his brothers had set some kind of trap on either side of the Bridge. Somehow Solomon had sensed it.
    Lincoln’s adrenaline spiked, his muscles tensed, and his mind focused. He was a hunter. He had saved countless people from the evil that infested the parish. He wasn’t about to let Ava down. He reached down and palmed one of his Bowie knives. There was silver in the blade, though it wasn’t pure silver. It would be enough to slow the weres down, and give Christian time to get Ava to their land.
    Lincoln readied to spring as they came even with the Bridge. Solomon let out a growl