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"The Wolf's Sister" by R. F. Long

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Read An Excerpt Online
Genre: Fantasy Romance

ISBN: 1-60504-237-4
Length: Novella
Price: 3.50
Publication Date: November 11, 2008
Cover art by Natalie Winters

A love transcending race and culture…a secret that could cost everything.

A Tale of the Holtlands, Book 1

Elite Fey'na warrior Shan is driven only by hatred for Gilliad, the Lord of River Holt, the human responsible for the brutal slaying of his innocent sister. Vengeance will be his as soon as he can find a way to confront his enemy. His mind is set; his path chosen. Then he meets Jeren…

Jeren of River Holt flees for her life, desperate to escape the clutches of her brother, Gilliad, before his misuse of magic consumes what remains of his sanity. She finds safety and protection with Shan…but only so long as she hides her kinship with the Lord of River Holt. As they are pursued across the northern snow plains, their deepening trust turns to love.

A love that could shatter when he learns who, and what, she is.

Warning: This title contains violence, torture, and a wolf-lover's worst nightmare. Readers may find their imaginations hopelessly ensnared in a beautiful and terrible world of magic.

Links
Samhain:http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/the-wolfs-sister
MBaM: http://www.mybookstoreandmore.com/shop/product.da/the-wolfs-sister
My Website: www.rflong.com
Booktrailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEd5qJxOeWA
Excerpt:

She skidded to a halt where the trees descended into a gully, hoping the edge might offer an advantage. She grabbed a hefty branch from the ground and faced her pursuers. Five of them, all men.

"She's waiting for her Fair One friends to drop out of the sky and save her!"

The wind stirred the leaves overhead.

Drop out of the sky, Shan. Please! Do as he says and save me!

Nothing happened. She heaved in a breath.

"Leave me alone." She clenched her teeth, her knuckles white where she gripped her makeshift weapon.

Their laughter roared in her ears. They couldn't imagine that anything could hurt them, least of all one small woman, so outnumbered. The first walked forwards, a knife in his hand. The irony of it twisted in her stomach—Jeren, sister of the Scion of Jern, heiress to River Holt, killed by a bunch of drunken louts from a hole like Brightling's Dale? It wasn't going to happen. She would not allow it!

Jeren lashed out. The impact of the wood on his arm jarred through her. His bone shattered.

She didn't pause. They weren't going to line up and politely attack her one by one. The other four scrambled forwards, a ragged pack who, sensing danger, would rely on their numbers. She crouched low. There were too many, despair told her. The foremost caught her arm and she saw the flash of a knife. Pain exploded in her side.

An unearthly shriek came from above her and something white plummeted into the face of the third man, beak and talons rending his flesh. He fell beneath the screeching owl, flailing wildly. Anala hurtled into the one with the bloody knife, her whole body her weapon. They tumbled down the gully, man and wolf, a cacophony of screams and snarls.

The other pair faltered. They were staring at Jeren in horror now, their faces pale with dread. No, not at her…past her, above her…

Shan unfolded silently from the tree branch and dropped to the ground, his sword already drawn.

"Run away," he told them. His voice rippled like the breeze through the leaves. "Run away now."