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Distant Howl Novel Cover

Distant Howl

After her only friend leaves, a young woman's search for independence drags her into a brutal, hidden realm of mythical beasts. Ciran, a dominant Lycanthrope claiming they are bound by a lifetime pact, vows to hunt her down and claim her. Ready to make him fight for her, she flees. Yet, as a lethal new adversary begins tracking them both, the rules of their high-stakes chase are rewritten in blood.
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Chapter 1

Ciran

I was not a man. Not even close to being a human, but something else, more powerful than that. Deadly. The strongest creature from Otherworld known to walk the planet.

Mine.

The distorted growl of my inner Lycanthrope reverberated through my skull, my body energized with force, my focus sharper than ever in the more than two and a half centuries I'd walked this world.

It was his voice that made my inner beast rise up in a way I had never felt or experienced before, causing pain I couldn't have imagined. I thought she was strong before, but hearing her voice made it exponentially, like I harbored a hundred thousand werewolves inside of me, and would destroy anything or anyone who thought to push her away or get in my way.

My hand would go up by itself as it grabbed my shirt, right over my heart. The organ was revving up, hitting something painful and fierce as I got closer to the source of the most enchanting and beautiful sound I had ever heard.

And then I was standing there, looking at Blaine's partner as I held up a cell phone and walked around the interior, showing off the wealth and luxury of the Scottish Lycanthrope King's estate.

My inner animal pushed and clawed forward. I felt my eyes sparkle as he took over.

She was ours, we had found her.

Enid

“For the record, this is a fucking stupid idea.” The words came out of me and Daira started to laugh, but I could tell that she was going through just as difficult a time as I was.

My best friend. My sister by choice, not by blood. We had always supported each other. We had to, because as orphans that we were, we had had to face this ugly and unpleasant world alone from the beginning.

Having been pushed into the foster system at a young age, I had to learn early on that either you got stronger or you would always be seen as weak. And I would never be like that. I would never let my circumstances dictate who and what she was or how she would shape my future.

And so, even though I was heartbroken that Daira was going to Scotland and trying to figure out her future and her past, I wanted her to succeed just as much as if I were the one embarking on a new adventure.

So I stayed there and said goodbye, but it wasn't forever. It was to make life better for her, to find her way…to make sense of it. A part of me wished that I had something to find, search for, connect with.

So even though I didn't have an amazing journey to go on, one where I knew Daira would succeed, where she would find that future she desperately wanted, I told myself that she too would get what she always wanted.

One day, somehow, I would get my own happily ever after. She didn't know when, why, or how…but she was going to make it, no matter what, if it was the last thing she did.

One day. Twenty four hours. A little over fourteen hundred minutes.

That is the time that Daira had gone on the greatest adventure of her life. And what was I doing meanwhile? Lying in bed and listening to the life of the city that should have woken up after a long night, but the truth was that this stupid damned city never slept, never did. There was no downtime, no silence. It was always chaotic and stormy.

But lying here in my semi-darkened bedroom looking up at the stained and chipped ceiling of my apartment one step above a shack solidified the feeling that I was truly alone for the first time since Daira had entered my house. I felt that feeling of: yes, that's life.

I felt this gnawing hole in the center of my chest and a cold hard slap of the inescapable truth hit me on the head as I realized that I could have been using Daira as some kind of crutch, an anchor, a life jacket. ...heck, the foundation of the house that supported my whole fucking life.

I tried to block out the sounds of early morning city life right outside my apartment window, but to no avail. It was incredibly noisy because the cheap windows were paper thin. But I couldn't complain too much. It had a good view, even if it was just a side street and a bunch of professional buildings. I knew the tenants on the other side of the building had a shitty view, one that spanned the entire width of the complex and blocked all those windows. Bad for them.

“It could be worse, so stop complaining. It's been worse,'' I complained. I closed my eyes and rubbed them with the palms of my hands. She was tired to the bone, but she couldn't sleep at all. After coming home late from work, I managed for a few hours, but I had broken down, restless, and now I couldn't even pray for any sleep.

I had been having sleepless bouts for the past few nights, as if there was something inside me brewing, ready to explode out. I couldn't describe it, couldn't even mention the precise problem that might be troubling me. Maybe it was just all those nerves and anxiety about Daira's departure on her trip that they had that way.

Or maybe it was a message from my body finally telling me that I needed a big change in my life.

She had worked in the service industry since she was very early sixteen years old and had been saving every penny she could ever since, for the last seven years, to go to school and get a degree in history. But the classes here and there that I had been able to take made it very clear that this dream, my specific dream, would take more time than I ever wanted.

But it would happen. I would make sure of that.

I opened my eyes and felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Daira in Scotland; then I quickly hated myself for being a mean bitch and feeling anything but pure happiness for her. She deserved it more than anyone. And I also. And one day I would have that adventure too.

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