Lure of the Wolf (Aloha Shifters: Jewels of the Heart Book 2) Read online

  Lure of the Wolf

  Aloha Shifters: Jewels of the Heart

  by

  Anna Lowe

  Book 2

  Lure of the Wolf

  Copyright © 2017 by Anna Lowe

  [email protected]

  Editing by Lisa A. Hollett

  Proofreading by Donna Hokanson

  Cover art by Kim Killion

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

  Thank you to the amazing members of my Plot Wizards group and to Cindy, Tessa, Beth, and Liezel for their valuable feedback!

  Other books in this series

  Aloha Shifters - Jewels of the Heart

  Lure of the Dragon (Book 1)

  Lure of the Wolf (Book 2)

  Lure of the Bear (Book 3)

  Lure of the Tiger (Book 4)

  Love of the Dragon (Book 5)

  visit www.annalowebooks.com

  Free books

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  Desert Wolf: Friend or Foe (Book 1.1 in the Twin Moon Ranch series)

  Off the Charts (the prequel to the Serendipity Adventure series)

  Perfection (the prequel to the Blue Moon Saloon series)

  Contents

  Other books in this series

  Free books

  Lure of the Wolf

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sneak Peek: Lure of the Bear

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  Books by Anna Lowe

  More from Anna Lowe

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  Lure of the Wolf

  She can’t remember her past. He wishes he could forget his.

  Nina only has the vaguest memories of who she is or why two men tried to kill her one terrifying night. All she knows is how quickly she’s falling in love with her rescuer — a man with secrets of his own. With her, he’s kind, gentle, and fun — but there’s a ferocious, animal side to Boone and the group of Special Forces vets he shares an exclusive seaside estate with. Can Boone help her uncover the past before the killers catch up with her?

  If fate were to come knocking on the door of Boone Hawthorne’s beach bungalow, he’d shove it right back into the sea — especially if it started whispering any nonsense about destined mates. But one night, a woman washes up on his private stretch of beach. Before the wolf shifter knows it, he’s breaking every personal rule for her and making promises he’s not sure he can keep. Investigating Nina’s past means crossing paths with a powerful archenemy, cutthroat criminals, and a ruthless ex-lover who will stop at nothing to get Boone back in her bed. Can he protect Nina — and his heart — while solving the mystery of her identity?

  Chapter One

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  ***

  “No!”

  Nina screamed and flailed, but that didn’t stop the thick arms that grappled with her.

  “Finish her off already,” one man barked as she was flung across a narrow space.

  Her head thumped against something hard, and she slumped to the ground. Everything went dim as the voices closed in around her.

  “Is she dead?” Someone prodded her shoulder.

  Her head spun from the blow, and bile rose in her throat. Where was she? What was happening? How had she gotten to this dark, wet place?

  “She’s still breathing,” a man said above the ringing in her ears. He was close enough to engulf her with his vile breath, but she couldn’t move.

  “Well, she won’t be alive much longer. I need her dead. But it needs to look like an accident,” the first man said in a strangely familiar voice. Moments ago, she’d recognized him. Now, nothing made sense. The blow to her head had rattled her memories around. Nothing fit into place.

  “Accidental drowning, if they find her body at all. Come on. You get her feet,” the second man said, and they lifted her.

  She flexed her fingers and moaned.

  “On three,” the man said, swinging her body through the air.

  She already felt sick, but the motion only made things worse. She blinked, desperate to pull herself together before it was too late.

  “Two…”

  A gnawing sense of dread spread through her bones. Why were her limbs so slow to react? Why was she so confused?

  “Three,” the man grunted, and she was airborne.

  She flailed helplessly before hitting the water, closing her mouth too late. Salt water choked her, and an invisible weight yanked her body into the depths of the Pacific. Terror gripped her — enough to jolt her halfway to her senses. She kicked toward the moonlight, desperate for air.

  When she broke through the surface, gulping wildly, her long brown hair covered her face. She pushed at the tangles and coughed so hard it hurt.

  “Wait! Help!” she managed to scream.

  A bad idea — attracting the attention of the men who’d just thrown her off a boat. They wanted her dead, but she couldn’t quite process that thought. Why would anyone want to kill her? What had she done?

  “Shit, she’s not dead,” one of the men grunted.

  “Not yet, she isn’t,” the other replied.

  Bang! Something flat and solid smashed the water right beside her head.

  Move it, fast! a voice in the back of her mind cried. Those men were swatting at her with an oar — and aiming for her head. They want you dead. Get away!

  She paddled frantically. How was she supposed to get away? The lights that dotted the shoreline — Maui’s shoreline; that much she knew — were faint and distant. The only boat in sight was the sleek white motor yacht she’d just been shoved off. Angel’s something — she could see the name embossed across the stern in gold.

  She kicked backward as the oar hit the water again and again, thrusting at her like a club. It glanced off her arm, and she choked in pain.

  “Hurry up,” one man urged the other.

  The oar slammed into her shoulder. It grazed the side of her head when they pulled it back, and her vision blurred.

  “Get her!” she heard the man yell again, but his voice was distant and fading away.

  If you black out now, you will die, the inner voice screamed. Dive! Now! Go!

  Nina didn’t dive so much as sink. The water muffled all sound, and salt stung in her eyes. Which way was up? Which way was down?

  Moonlight filtered through the water, and though instinct told her to kick toward it, she paddled sideways before surfacing again. The breath she inhaled drew in as much water as air, and she sputtered wildly.

  “She’s over there!” one of the men shouted.

  She wanted to scream, to cry. There had to be some mistake.
But she could barely breathe, let alone speak, so all she managed was a garbled moan.

  “Forget it,” the other muttered. “No way will she make it all the way to shore. We’re three miles out.”

  He was right, and she knew it. The ocean was relatively still, but land was miles away. Her clothes were soaked, her limbs stiff. Her head throbbed, and her vision was blurry.

  Do something! Now! instinct screamed as the motorboat powered up and sped away.

  She yanked one shoe off, then the other. Her legs kept tangling in her skirt, so she shed that, too, and let the ocean swallow the fabric up.

  The ocean will swallow you too, if you don’t get moving. Go!

  She turned in a slow circle, wondering which way to go. Wondering why she even bothered. Maybe she should let death take her quickly instead of fighting it.

  You’re not a quitter. You can’t be. Just like Mom. She wasn’t a quitter.

  Nina sobbed at the thought of her mother. So sick, so frail, yet refusing to give up the fight. That single memory was clear in the foggy landscape of her mind.

  Come on, make her proud.

  She slapped the water, as if the ocean were to blame for the cancer that had stolen her mother away. Then the sound of the motorboat’s engine changed, and she spun around, seeing it turn back.

  “Finish her off!” the man shouted.

  The engine revved to a roar, and the boat accelerated, kicking a plume of water in its wake as it sliced through the water, heading her way.

  “No!”

  She couldn’t see into the deckhouse, but she could imagine two men hunched over the controls, grinning madly.

  Move! Swim! Now!

  Frantically, she paddled right. The engine throbbed, filling the air and the water with its brute force. The water around her lifted with the bow wave, and she swam for her life, high on a sudden rush of adrenaline.

  Faster! Go! Go!

  Water frothed all around her, making her tumble and turn as if caught in a breaker off a beach. There was a deafening hiss, a hammering throb. The terrifying sense of a mighty hulk slicing the water behind her.

  And, zoom! The motor yacht zipped past. Nina bobbed to the surface just in time to see the bow carve through the water an arm’s length away. She kicked backward, desperate to clear the propellers, hacking and coughing the whole time.

  Alive. She was alive. Her lungs cried, and her body ached, but she was alive. She heaved and sputtered, watching the yacht buzz toward the distant shore.

  She treaded water, trying to catch her breath — and to make sense of it all. But her mind was hazy, and her memories were a jumbled mess. Where was she? What happened?

  The loose shirt she’d been wearing floated around her, restricting her arms, so she pulled it over her head and cast it aside. Floating was easier without it, but still, it was an awfully long way to land.

  So swim. Just swim. One easy stroke after another.

  She wanted to protest, but her arms were already obeying the inner command, as if that were her mother begging her.

  Don’t think, honey. Just swim.

  The moon rippled over the water. The hum of the yacht’s engine faded away, and an eerie peace settled over the ocean.

  Swim, honey. The way you used to go all the way across the lake.

  That lake, wherever it was, was little more than a faint memory. And heck, this was no lake.

  You can do this. One stroke at a time.

  The ocean rose and fell with the long, lazy rhythm of the swell, and she imagined that it was cheering for her, too.

  You can do it. One stroke at a time.

  Chapter Two

  Nina had no idea how long she swam or how far. She simply swam, looking up from time to time. The lights didn’t seem to grow any brighter or nearer, but strangely, she didn’t despair. Her body was on autopilot, swimming weakly along, and she let her mind tune out. Maybe drowning wouldn’t be as bad if her mind was as numb as her fingertips.

  She switched to her back at some point and looked up at the twinkling stars. Maybe they were rooting for her. Maybe she’d make it after all.

  She lost track of everything and faded into a trance that may or may not have been death grasping at her toes. One minute, she was dreaming about dolphins, and the next, her hand closed over coarse, gritty sand. She kicked feebly, wondering why she wasn’t moving any more, then closed her eyes. Let death take her. She didn’t care any more.

  “Hey!” A deep voice reached her groggy mind.

  A wave swished over sand, and she flexed her fingers. Sand? She blinked. It was still night, but darker than before — so late, the moon had set. Pebbly bits of coral jutted into her belly, and her head ached. Her shoulder, too.

  “Hey, you can’t be here,” the man said again. His deep, resounding voice stroked her skin and warmed her threadbare nerves.

  She lifted her head, blinking, but dropped it back to the sand a second later. Just that small movement made her head swim.

  She wanted to say something like, I’ll be out of here as soon as I can lift more than a finger, but all that came out was a groan.

  Two bare feet lined up inches from her face, and the man spoke again, more quietly this time.

  “Lady, are you okay?”

  She laughed, which came out as a cackling kind of moan. No, she was not okay. Not by a long shot.

  “I hate to say it, but this is private property. No trespassing. Which means…”

  She let his voice fade away. What did it matter if she trespassed? She was alive.

  He touched her shoulder, and she hummed. In light of what had just transpired, she ought to have panicked at being so close to a stranger, but all she felt was warmth and hope. As if her mother were coming to take care of her and everything would be okay.

  The man turned her gently, and a warm hand touched her aching brow.

  “Jesus, what happened?”

  Funny, she wanted to ask the same thing.

  She tipped her head back. God, he smelled good. Or did the whole beach smell like sandalwood and Old Spice?

  “Can you hear me?” he asked, kneeling over her.

  She tried to nod, but couldn’t. Her nerve endings were firing blanks, and she was tired. So, so tired.

  “Does this hurt?” he asked, touching her arm.

  It had until he touched it. Then all she felt was a cozy, enveloping heat. A sense of security.

  “Hang on,” he whispered, sliding his hands under her body.

  She held her breath, wondering if her nightmare was about to get worse.

  “Don’t hurt me,” she said, curling up into a ball.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

  “Promise,” she insisted, though her voice was weak. It was childish, really, because he could break his promise. Men did that all the time.

  He paused for what seemed like an awfully long time, and panic crept in toward her again. Was he going to hurt her? Rape her? Smash her over the head?

  “I promise I won’t hurt you.” His voice was soft. Impossibly soft and kind. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she mumbled like a sleepy child — or a woman about to pass out.

  Her senses had been drifting in and out, but the second he cradled her against his chest, she felt wide awake.

  She looked up and blinked into his eyes. Pure, indigo eyes that glowed and flared like hot coals, framed by the rugged features of the world’s most handsome man. Which had to mean she was hallucinating — but heck, hallucinating was better than facing the ugly truth. Maybe she’d go with it a little longer. She’d pretend that this was her dream man coming to her rescue and not some hairy old hermit or whoever it was. Because no real man had ever looked at her with eyes so gentle and so concerned — not one with that much muscle, anyway.

  “Hang on. You’ll be okay.”

  Palms whispered overhead as he strode along, and the fragrance of hibiscus mixed with his earthy scent. Crickets sang from the lush foliage, and a bird called. Maybe she�
�d died and gone to heaven, and this man was an angel carrying her toward the pearly gates.

  “You’ll be okay,” he repeated, covering her with something soft and clean. A blanket? No, a beach towel he’d grabbed off a railing as he walked. She clutched at a corner of the fabric. God, she really ought to get herself out of baby-in-the-womb mode, but she just couldn’t find the energy.

  She stared, focusing on his eyes. Either the indigo had brightened to a royal blue, or she’d been imagining things. His sandy hair feathered and curled to a point just below his ears. As he walked, he glanced down, checking on her. It should have been awkward, being face-to-face with a perfect stranger, but it simply felt right. So, so right.

  The cadence of his steps changed slightly; he was going uphill. The rolling sound of breakers faded, replaced by a gurgling stream, and the air was filled with a scent of ginger. Somewhere ahead, a light shone.

  “Almost there,” he murmured.

  Almost where? She tightened her grip on his thick forearm and blinked at a dim point of light.

  The hum of voices carried on the wind as he walked on, and the light grew brighter.

  She wished her legs would obey her order to stretch and slide to the ground, but they wouldn’t. He was carrying her over to a group of people. A group of men, from the sound of it, not far ahead.

  “Don’t worry,” her knight whispered in her ear.

  Which reassured her for exactly one second until he stepped into the circle of light.

  “Whoa,” another man said, and a chair scraped over a tile floor.

  “Holy…” another exclaimed.

  “What the hell?” a third growled, and Nina immediately tensed. She wasn’t welcome here. God, she was at the mercy of these men. They could do anything—

  “Shh,” her knight reassured her, tilting his arms to let her snuggle closer to his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, letting his breezy, salt-air scent calm her.