Redeem the Wolf: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (Wolf Valley Raiders Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One – Kurt

  Chapter Two – Nadine

  Chapter Three – Kurt

  Chapter Four – Nadine

  Chapter Five – Kurt

  Chapter Six – Nadine

  Chapter Seven – Kurt

  Chapter Eight – Nadine

  Chapter Nine – Kurt

  Chapter Ten – Nadine

  Chapter Eleven – Kurt

  Chapter Twelve – Nadine

  Chapter Thirteen – Kurt

  Chapter Fourteen – Nadine

  Chapter Fifteen – Kurt

  Chapter Sixteen – Nadine

  Chapter Seventeen – Kurt

  Chapter Eighteen – Nadine

  Chapter Nineteen – Kurt

  Chapter Twenty – Nadine

  Other Books By Harmony Raines

  Redeem the Wolf

  Wolf Valley Raiders

  (Book One)

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  Note from the author: My books are written, produced and edited in the UK where spellings and word usage can vary from U.S. English. The use of quotes in dialogue and other punctuation can also differ.

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  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written consent of the author or publisher.

  This is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences only. All characters within are eighteen years of age or older. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, actual events or places is purely coincidental.

  © 2015 Harmony Raines

  Silver Moon Erotica

  Kindle Edition

  Chapter One – Kurt

  Outside the moon was bright, the very same moon that used to stir his blood and call his wolf to come out and taste the night. But those days were gone for Kurt. Since that fateful day when he set his sights on selling Fiona, his cousin, to a predator, he had not had the nerve to change. He was only too aware how close he had come to being held under the spell of his wolf forever.

  Turning his mind back to the painting before him gave him none of his usual comfort. Her face looked back at him, the woman who had saved his life, the nurse who had tempted the man back from the brink of doom.

  Who was she? His mate? If so, did she know? Did she understand that she had saved his body and his mind, but held onto his soul when she walked away?

  Damn, he was a romantic fool. Of course she didn’t know, or else she would have felt it too, and be here with him now, unable to stand another moment apart from him. Instead, he was alone, the full moon shining through his window, leaving him desperate to find out the truth.

  “How are you, Kurt?” His mom came into the room with a hot mug of cocoa. If anything said he was worthless as a man, it was this.

  “Thanks, Mom, you shouldn’t have.” He took it all the same, trying to sound happy. He had worried her so much over the last few months, the last thing she needed was to know how tough tonight was for him.

  “Can I see what you’ve painted?” she asked.

  Kurt covered his easel and smiled. “It’s just a preliminary sketch; you know how I prefer to keep them to myself until they are finished.”

  “I don’t know why. I would love to see one of your paintings as you go through the process. You are getting quite a name for yourself, you know. I saw that letter on the table; someone wants to buy the painting you did of the mountains.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind to sell,” he replied uneasily.

  “Come on, Kurt, you need the money, you have to start pulling your life back together. It was good of your sister to set up a website for you. And Joel has handed out lots of cards to Will’s business friends.”

  “I hate the thought of anyone buying them out of pity.”

  “Don’t be silly, they are amazing. Everyone who’s seen them has said so.”

  “Friends and family don’t count.”

  “Why not? They are telling the truth.”

  “Maybe.” How could he tell her the real reason? Each of the paintings held a piece of him in it, a piece of his memory from that fateful night and the aftermath that followed.

  The mountain in his painting was the one he had climbed, the one he had been stuck on as the snow came down. The trees were the same ones that hung down around him, whispering of death in the snow. And the face of her. Well, he didn’t know what she whispered, only that it had brought him back from the brink of madness.

  “Sorry, what, Mom?”

  “Mia is talking about getting a gallery to put on an exhibition. It would be wonderful for you to sell some, make some room for us in the house.”

  The house was really a small cabin on the edge of the forest, the mountains rising above them in the distance. Situated on the furthest outskirts of Wolf Valley, it was close enough to town for when they needed anything—not that they ventured there often—yet isolated enough to give him the peace his tortured mind needed. His mom had moved here with him a couple of months ago, after he had left the hospital. He was grateful; he didn’t have the confidence to do it alone. That’s right, a grown man needing his mom to hold his hand. Pathetic.

  She had given up everything to move here with him. It was impossible to sell the house with the way things were in Wolf Valley, so she had walked away. Their family home had no doubt been ransacked by now and all her furniture sold or ruined. She didn’t let him see how much it must have hurt her; she said she had brought everything she needed with her. He knew she meant him. Because apart from a few old photographs and some other small mementos, she had left everything behind. He knew it was so that there was more room for him and his paintings.

  He looked at the beginnings of the painting in front of him. At the fiery hair and green eyes of his mate, reaching out his conscious mind to search for her. But she wasn’t there; she was never there.

  Chapter Two – Nadine

  Nadine had seen the notice advertising Kurt’s painting exhibition a week ago, and knew she couldn’t attend, it wasn’t right. But the pull of him was too much. So she had allowed herself to come to stand across the road from the gallery, completely out of sight, and watch out for him. He wouldn’t see her and would have no idea she was there.

  She wore a hat to cover her red hair; the fiery tones were enough to draw anyone’s eye towards her, precisely what she didn’t want. Stay out of sight; don’t let him see you. After an hour of waiting for him, even though it had become increasingly obvious he wasn’t going to attend, she knew she was the one who needed treatment for her mental disorder. She was addicted to a man she did not intend to ever meet again in real life.

  While she watched, the gallery had changed from darkness to a hive of activity, but there was no sign of him. Kurt wasn’t here. If he was, she would feel it, she was sure. When he had been in her care she had felt a trickle of excitement run down her spine, the small hairs rising as her skin begged to be touched by him when he was close.

  She has shut her longing away, knowing it was a fantasy; he was her patient, and felt nothing for her. Maybe he was too damaged to feel the bond between them. Or maybe the whole thing was a figment of her overactive imagination. She was probably screwed up from treating so many shifters who had lost control of their other side.

  Nadine had always known she was different. That was why she took on the job of
treating other shifters. In all her years of experience, Kurt was the first one to actually touch her in any meaningful way. She was sure it was the mating bond, but it was supposed to work two ways. And he gave her nothing to work with.

  Other people began to arrive, filling the gallery and looking at his paintings, the paintings she had encouraged him to paint. It had been wonderful to watch him blossom from an animal who grunted in answer to questions to the man who could paint a wolf so realistic you could reach out and touch it. She wanted to look at them once more, and the pull of the gallery, even minus its tortured artist, was too much.

  You are going to regret this, she thought, as she rushed across the road, hat held firmly down on her head, with her free hand clutching her coat to her throat to ward off the autumn chill. The evening was getting late, and she told her internal voice that she would take a look and then get out of there. Ten minutes and she would have satisfied her curiosity and be gone. No harm: he would never know.

  “Hello, welcome to the gallery,” a young woman said, offering her a glass of wine and a catalogue.

  “Thank you.” She wanted to ask if Kurt was going to make an appearance, but she couldn’t say his name without the voice in her head screaming for him. Yes, definitely a sign of her own insanity. It was why she had trained to help those who were stuck in their animal form.

  Because she was stuck in her human form.

  Silencing her inner voice, she sipped her wine and made her way over to the first paintings. The mountain, of course, he had told her about it while he painted, his brush flying over the canvas as if he could purge the memories from his mind. Had it worked?

  Moving on to the next paintings, she looked at images of wolves, single wolves, their coats thick, snow covering them to turn them white. A pack, all howling. None of himself. She had seen him as a wolf, had scars to prove it. Unconsciously, she touched her arm, the marks where his claws had gouged at her skin a permanent reminder of her mate. His attack hadn’t put her off helping him, though; it was why she was there. To help. Slowly he had begun to trust her. Slowly she had drawn the man back from the brink of insanity.

  More paintings of mountains, forests. Nature at its most beautiful, at its fiercest. The chatter of excited voices told her how well his paintings were being received, and an increasing number of sold stickers were appearing as they were snapped up. But one seemed to draw more attention than the rest and she moved towards it, eager to see what masterpiece he had created, what appealed to everyone here.

  The wine glass nearly slipped from her hand. Only because she was frozen with shock did she hold on to it. With an open mouth, she stood and stared at the face looking back at her. What did it mean? Had she touched him in some way? How else could he have captured her likeness so keenly?

  Because he knows what we are, the voice in her head said. However, Nadine didn’t know what she was. That was the problem: she wasn’t anything, not really. Unable to experience the shift from human to animal, she was as screwed up as the people she treated. The two parts of herself were cut off from each other, unable to bridge the gap to become one. Just like her and her mate.

  She knew she should leave, but it was impossible. She couldn’t drag herself away. If she stared hard enough she thought she could see right through to her soul. Was it her imagination? Because in the eyes that looked back at her, she swore she could see her other self, her animal.

  “Stunning, isn’t it?” a man beside her said, pulling her back from her trance.

  She turned, hoping her hat covered her hair completely, because any stray strand would give her away. Kurt had captured the colour and tone of her hair, the way the light reflected on it, bringing out the fiery auburn streak which ran along the strands at the front where she had been touched by the devil himself, her mom used to say.

  “Yes … Yes, it is?”

  “Shame it’s not for sale, he could have sold it ten times.”

  “It…it’s not?” she stammered like a fool. Talk about drawing attention to yourself.

  “No. My wife tells me he’s got another ten like it in his cabin. Same woman, but won’t sell a single one. Still, the rest of the collection has sold well.” He smiled at her. “I’m Joel, by the way.”

  “Hi, Joel.” She didn’t offer her name. And she wasn’t going to ask who his wife was. She wasn’t going to do this to herself. “Your wife knows the artist well?”

  “My wife is Kurt’s sister. She’ll be along any minute now. She went to drag him out of his cabin. He had been OK with the exhibition up until two hours ago, and then he got cold feet.” Joel smiled amiably as other viewers, trying to get a look at the painting, jostled her.

  “He’s coming here?” she squeaked, trying to cover it by clearing her throat and swallowing a large gulp of wine.

  “If my sister can coax him out. He’s a bit of a recluse.”

  “Oh, why’s that?” she asked. Nadine had hoped he had got over his need to stay away from other people. When she saw the poster for the exhibition, she had hoped it meant he was fully recovered, but he wasn’t.

  At least he has left the hospital, she comforted herself.

  Joel remembered himself, perhaps realising his indiscretion, and said quickly, “You know how poor, tortured artists are. Anything to look more mysterious for their fans.”

  “Oh, of course. Well, I should move on,” she said. More like get out of there. Nadine knew it would be appallingly bad judgement for her to be here when he arrived. She didn’t know how he would behave. What happened if, because of her presence at the gallery, his wolf appeared while he was standing in front of all of these people?

  “Nice to meet you…” He left the sentence hanging for her to fill in her name.

  “Nice to meet you too, Joel.” Other people were crowding around now, and she knew this was her cue to leave. Nadine allowed herself to be jostled backwards, away from him; she simply shrugged her shoulders and let herself be taken along with the steady flow.

  Only when she stopped did she have the sudden realisation that she had left it too late. He was here.

  Pulling her hat down, she heard the excited chatter as he came in. She risked a sideways glance, but he was already moving through the crowds, practically pushing them out of the way. He was heading for the painting and she could tell by the look on his face, wild and unstable, that he knew she was here.

  Nadine moved towards the door. It took all of her strength; her inner voice was arguing with her to go back. The hidden creature inside her was grasping at the edge of her consciousness, fighting for control. She fought it and won and, with one final surge, she was out on the street, breathless, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath.

  This new image of him had branded itself onto her brain; he looked so much healthier, toned and muscular. He had allowed his deep russet brown hair to grow longer, and her fingers itched to run through the long shoulder length strands. To touch his tanned face and see those amber eyes of his burn with desire. Stop it!

  Getting hold of herself firmly, she took off at a slow jog up the street, not knowing a pair of eyes had watched her strange behaviour and had guessed her secret.

  Chapter Three – Kurt

  She was there. Somewhere amongst the crowd of people looking at his paintings was his mate. Rushing through the gallery, unseen faces looking at him as he pushed them aside, he sought her out. He could sense her, he could smell her, and it was this scent trail his wolf led him along now.

  “Kurt, what are you doing?” Joel was there, in front of her painting, looking concerned. “The people here are buying your paintings. You need to get a grip and talk to them.

  “She was here,” he said, looking around, dazed by the scent of her. “I know she was. I can smell her.”

  “You need to calm down and get ahold of yourself, people are staring at you.” Joel touched his shoulder, patting him, trying to get him to calm down.

  “But I know I didn’t imagine it.” Kurt tried to focus on
Joel.

  “Just make your speech, thank everyone for coming and for their generosity, and then we can talk.” Joel got Kurt to focus, nodding in encouragement. “Just talk to the people around you. You can do this.”

  His sister’s husband, Joel, was a good man. A bear shifter from Bear Creek, the town next to Wolf Valley; it was thanks to him and Mia that this whole exhibition was taking place. For that reason, Kurt knew he had to pull himself together. His sister had only just started speaking to him again, and he didn’t want to lose her again.

  “Right,” he said, taking a deep breath and trying to compartmentalise his thoughts just as he had been taught. He had to try not to think about her; he had to shut that part of him away for now.

  Mia came towards them, looking worried. He knew he had embarrassed her and now he had to make amends. Taking control of himself, particularly his wolf, which wanted to run out of there as fast as it could to pick up the scent of their mate, he smiled and then kissed her on the cheek.

  “Sorry, Mia. Deer in the headlights syndrome,” he said smiling. It felt false on his lips, but he had to try to get a grip of his sanity.

  “You had me worried for a moment. I thought you were going to run straight out of the back door,” she said, studying his face.

  “There’s a back door?” he joked.

  “Funny. Now say your piece and then we can relax. Apparently, you have already sold twelve paintings. The owner is calling it a success, so as long as you don’t screw this up, you’ll be invited back.”

  “Great,” he said. At least his mom would be happy he had made some money to ease their financial position. She would be able to stop worrying and relax. A thing he wished he could do now, instead of the feeling of fear that was creeping up his spine. He was about to speak in front of all of these people when he would much rather be out there, tracking his mate.

  The face of his nameless mate swam in front of his eyes. He opened the box in his brain and held her hand while she climbed in it and then he shut the lid. He had to function normally for the next two hours. And he couldn’t do it with her invading his every thought, tickling his every sense.