Savage Love Read online

  Savage Love

  High House Canis Book 1

  Riley Storm

  Savage Love

  Copyright© 2019 Riley Storm

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, without written permission from the author. The sole exception is for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

  Edited by Annie Jenkinson, Just Copyeditors

  Cover Designs by Kasmit Covers

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  Other Books by Riley Storm

  About the Author

  Note from the Author

  Hi there!

  Thank you so much for picking up Savage Love. While this book and series are self-contained and can be read alone, if you want to get the full experience of the Plymouth Falls world, you would be best off starting with the High House Ursa series and book one, Bearing Secrets which is linked below.

  Either way, I hope you enjoy!

  -Riley Storm

  High House Ursa

  Bearing Secrets

  Furever Loyal

  Mated to the Enemy

  Shifting Alliances

  Blood Bearon

  1

  Rain lashed out, battering his already weakened body. Thunder exploded overhead, drowning out the feeble, pitiful cries that even his mighty will couldn’t prevent escaping as he pulled himself another foot closer. Lightning flashed, illuminating his path through the one eye that still opened. Then darkness closed in again as the temporary light source faded, leaving him nearly blind.

  Agony swept across his body as a gust of wind hit him with a barrage of leaves and debris. Pools of muddy water provided breathing obstacles when his strength inevitably gave out and he slumped face first onto the cold stones that formed the crude pathway from the street to his destination.

  The door. Need to get to the door.

  His single-mindedness toward the destination at hand was the only thing keeping him still going. Anyone else would have collapsed and died somewhere back in the street, but an undercurrent of will continued to infuse the body that was, for almost all practical purposes, a corpse. Pools of his blood would have tracked back across town if the rain wasn’t busy washing it away even as it fell from open wounds.

  Wounds that should have closed ages ago.

  Even a powerful wolf shifter like he was could be overwhelmed, however, and the sheer number of injuries across his body was more than his powerful system could overcome on its own.

  I’m going to die.

  Accepting his fate, the wolf shifter pushed the macabre knowledge aside and continued on his journey, all other concerns secondary to the burning, pressing need to reach the door that was so close. If he’d been healthy, he could have been there in two steps. In his current state, it was proving impossible to close the gap.

  Reaching forward, his fingers weakly clasped the edge of one of the heavy stones embedded in the ground, pushing through the soggy dirt to get a stronger grip. Then he heaved, all but mewling in pain as the contraction of his muscles ripped open cuts.

  But he moved forward, an inch at a time, every bit an agonizing journey that spread torture across his body. Yet he didn’t stop. If he could just make it there, to the door, maybe she would answer. Maybe he could see her face, one last time.

  It wasn’t supposed to have happened like this. The small corner of his brain still operating free from pain and fatigue couldn’t help but wonder where it had all gone wrong. How had they known?

  Lightning forked across the sky, blurring his vision, and even as he pulled himself a little closer to the door, Lucien’s memories came rolling back to the fore.

  ***

  They rode in silence, the storm providing the only noise as it battered the thin, flimsy sides of the cargo truck against which the seven of them lay slumped. There were no words to be said. Everyone knew why they were there, and why they were leaving.

  It was just as well that they were enclosed in the bed of the truck, because the sight of Moonshadow Manor retreating into the distance would be more than some of them could bear, he was sure.

  Lucien knew well the devastation that was already pounding at his core would be amplified tenfold if he could watch the ancestral home of High House Canis disappear behind him, possibly forever.

  No, not forever. We will be back one day. When things have settled and we are united once more in our vision of how to move forward. Then, and only then, will I set foot on these grounds again.

  What he feared the most, was what it would take to reunite the fractured wolf shifters.

  Their group wasn’t the first to flee the Manor either. Over the past few months, several groups had left, mostly in twos or threes. The nine of them, including the driver and passenger, were the single largest group to depart, and Lucien feared they might be one of the last as well.

  With the guards increasingly more loyal to the Throne and willing to follow the orders issued by the petty tyrant who sat upon it, Lucien could only imagine it was a matter of time before the borders were closed and no one was allowed in. Or out.

  So far, there had been no open fighting, but he worried that their break tonight could incite it. Not only were they the largest group by numbers, but their driver was none other than Logan Canis, the—now former—Knight of House Canis. The successor to the Throne.

  It was he to whom Lucien had rallied around when he’d heard that Logan was at odds with the King. For so long, he’d just assumed that it would be the young versus the old, the new way against the old, but Logan had shattered those expectations by standing up for what was right.

  Together, along with the others in their group, they had worked to set up several safe houses in the nearby town of Plymouth Falls in preparation for just such an event. Lucien had always hoped it wouldn’t come to it, that he would be able to miraculously find a way to tame their King’s sudden bloodlust and insanity, but he’d prepared anyway.

  Perhaps a part of me is more of a realist than I like to think.

  “We can’t be the only ones who made it out.”

  Lucien glanced over at the speaker, a wolf shifter he didn’t know overly well. Landry, he thought his name was. “We weren’t. Others left as well, but who knows if any of them are as organized as we are? It could be they’re just running for it and hoping to find shelter, like the ones who have already left, hiding out in Plymouth Falls wherever they can find a place to stay.”

  “I still can’t believe we left.” That was Linden, one of the guards who had grown tired of supporting the increas
ingly insane rules the King handed out.

  Linden’s breaking point had been the newest one, Lucien knew. The same one that had spurred the mass exodus from the Manor tonight, before the guards could fully implement the new procedures. The new rules were apparently designed to enhance the security and safety of the House as whole.

  Lucien snorted to himself. None of them believed tracking beacons embedded under the skin were a completely necessary security system.

  It was a wonder things hadn’t erupted into open conflict over that. He thanked whatever higher power there was for such a resolution. Lucien wasn’t afraid of violence, and he’d trained hard to be able to defend himself, but he wasn’t about to initiate bloodshed between men he considered his brothers. They were all wolf shifters. They should be united. He would not take the life of another.

  Their arrival at the safehouse was anti-climactic. Nobody knew where they were going, and the first thing Lucien had done when he’d commandeered the van from the communal pool of vehicles was disable its GPS system. The loyalists back at the Manor weren’t going to be able to track them.

  Everyone was sort of quiet as they filed inside the vast warehouse. There were nicer safehouses, actual houses, that they’d set up, but the warehouse on the outskirts of town was best for congregating larger numbers. Tents and camping gear were piled off in one corner, so that people could sleep with some semblance of privacy if they wished. But for now, the shifters just sort of milled around in a circle, unsure of what to do.

  Logan returned from securing the doors, and Lucien watched him take stock of the group. What does one even say at a time like this, he wondered? He did not envy the man such a position and the heavy responsibility it entailed.

  “We’re in a rough spot,” Logan said, instantly drawing the attention of the little crowd. “Not as rough as the time Linden got so drunk he proposed to his sister, mind you.”

  Everyone, even Linden, laughed. That had been a wedding to remember. Lucien was trying to remember whose it was. The main memory of it was Linden somehow getting so drunk that he stumbled on stage to propose. Only his sister came up to try and stop him, and he proposed to her instead. She of course, being moderately sober, had said no, and Linden had fallen to the floor, promising to make her the biggest, most beautiful snow-angel ever if she said yes. On a stage. Indoors.

  She still said no.

  But the memory of that alleviated a lot of the tension, and gave Logan the floor. Lucien watched, making notes.

  “Sleeping gear is over to the left. Food supplies stocked over there. We’re light on perishables, but plenty of water and cans of tuna to get you through while we get set up. Sorry Linden, no whiskey at this location.”

  The big shifter chuckled. “I can still make better snow angels than any of you,” he challenged.

  Lucien found himself smiling as well. Maybe it would be okay after all, he thought. With Logan leading them, they could figure out a way to patch things up and hopefully resolve their differences. Somehow.

  Lost deep in thought, he wandered off to a corner of the warehouse to run through some meditation exercises while the others snatched up a tent or some food. There was plenty to go around, so he wasn’t worried about losing out. Right now he just wanted to ease the tension in his shoulders and clear his mind in hopes of actually sleeping later.

  Falling into a cross-legged seated position, eyes closed, Lucien began to breathe deeply. Around him the warehouse was full of life as the other eight shifters settled down for the night. He cleared his mind of their sounds. And of the rain as it pattered against the metal roof and siding.

  He cleared it, too, of the thump of vehicle doors closing and boots pounding on pavement. Cleared it of shouts of surprise and—

  Lucien’s eyes flew open as the far doors burst inward and men in black poured through. They moved swiftly, with purpose and coordination, a smoothness to their motions that no human could mimic entirely.

  It was clear they were shifters as well. Lucien was on his feet a moment later, but his retreat for space and silence had left him clear on the other side of the warehouse. Even as he raced for the flashpoint, he knew he would never make it in time.

  There were shouts, and then the first punch was thrown.

  Something shattered deep within Lucien as the first real violence between sides flared up. Shifter met shifter and it descended into a brawl. More men continued to stream in from outside, and he knew the fight was over before it began. Whoever was organizing this knew what they were about. Surprise and overwhelming force.

  Several of the attackers turned as Lucien closed the distance, trying to get to Logan’s side as their leader faced off against three different men. He shouted his leader’s name, trying to let him know he was coming.

  Logan turned to look at him, and shook his head. Go, he mouthed, jerking his head to the side. Go!

  Skidding to a halt, Lucien looked around wildly, trying to figure out a way to save their leader, and a man he was lucky enough to call his friend.

  “Enough stalling!” a voice barked from the doorway. “Round them up!”

  Lucien’s head whipped around. He knew that voice. Knew the owner. It was Lyken, Captain of House Canis. He was strong, driven, and generally well respected by all for his impartial nature and dispassionate attitude toward all issues.

  He was also Lucien’s childhood best friend. They had grown apart in their later years, but there was still a respect between them, which is why it pained Lucien to see him on the other side.

  Lyken had eyes only for Logan, and the bald-headed loyalist drove straight for the former Knight. Watching in horror as his old friend took on his current friend, Lucien hesitated.

  That hesitation earned him a blow square between the eyes. Stars exploded and he reeled back as the nearest of the attackers finally reached him. Anger at such treatment exploded out from deep within Lucien, and he responded in kind, falling into his training. He ducked low beneath the next swing, delivered a hammer blow to the shifter’s guts, and then drove up with his forearm, powering it with his legs.

  Teeth slammed together and his attacker reeled back, dazed. There was no time to react, because a second attacker came in hard from his left. Lucien blocked one, then a second and third blow in quick succession, pivoting and driving out with his leg, catching the shifter in the chest, completely unprepared. Air whoofed from his lungs and he went down, leaving Lucien momentarily free.

  He took a step toward Logan, but with four trained men facing him, the leader of their little group didn’t stand a chance. They brought him down hard.

  “Go!” Logan bellowed before one of them clamped fingers on either side of his neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brain and swiftly sending him into unconsciousness.

  Everything in Lucien, every instinct, every fiber of his being, screamed at him to run to Logan’s side, to rescue him. He even took one step forward, ready to do just that, but more of his little band were down by this point, and eyes were starting to turn toward Lucien. He was vastly outnumbered, and what’s more, his leader had ordered him to go.

  Snarling in shame at his cowardice, Lucien did the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. He turned and ran for the far exit, stunning the shifters who had been facing him, none of whom had expected him to run.

  I will stay free. As long as I’m free, I can find a way to rescue Logan. That is what I must do.

  Lucien barreled through the door, tearing the flimsy metal off its hinges—

  And he was abruptly slammed into the ground as the pair of shifters waiting outside clobbered him unsuspectingly. His head rebounded off the concrete, and the stars he couldn’t see because of the clouds exploded across his vision. Rain made the concrete slick and a hand slipped while trying to get up, spilling him back to the ground.

  The ambushers jumped on him, raining fists down on his body while Lucien struggled to get up. One of them pulled his arm back and delivered a knee to the side, breaking several ribs. Anothe
r kept punishing his face.

  Somehow, Lucien struggled free, perhaps aided by the rain as he grew wetter, providing less grip for his foes to hold. Pulling both legs in, he slammed them into the side of one of his attackers, tossing the man ten feet or more through the air.

  Spinning for more momentum, Lucien hopped to his feet and squared off with the remaining shifter, keeping his left arm pinned to his side. It was useless, broken at some point, and it left him at a huge disadvantage in organized combat.

  Time to go unorganized then.

  With a wild howl, Lucien threw himself forward. There was no time to duel it out with the soldier. More of them would be coming from inside. He needed to end this, and end it now.

  They went down in a heap, Lucien head-butting his enemy. Something cracked in his nose and blood spurted out, blinding the other shifter.

  “Lucky me,” Lucien spat through mangled lips and drove his head forward again before adding a fist to the mix. One of his knuckles split on the second or third blow, but the soldier was down and unconscious.

  Something stabbed deep into his back and Lucien screamed in agony. He whirled, wrenching the knife from his attacker’s hands. Leaning back, Lucien kicked the shocked shifter in the face. They both went down.

  The impact ripped the knife free, slicing a deep wound down his right hand side as he half fell on the blade. Grabbing it in his working hand, Lucien got to his knees, slicing wildly. His foe was in better condition, and only the weapon held him off until both were on their feet again.

  Lucien was swaying now. He had to finish this, and soon. Moving forward, he went on the attack, scoring one long gouge out of his foe’s stomach. But then his weakness caught up with him. The other shifter—even in his current state, Lucien refused to think of men he’d considered his brothers until recently as “enemies”—grabbed his striking arm, twisted his hand around and stepped forward, driving the knife deep into his shoulder.

  Lucien’s howl filled the night as the six-inch blade bit deep into flesh. But in the moment, the guard had made a mistake. He’d brought the desperate, cornered Lucien within striking distance.