Filthy Wolf

 Book #6

Mik Volkov used to be the Wolf Tzar, now he doesn't even know who he is.
All he knows is that his fated mate is in trouble and he can't trust anyone. Including his mate herself.

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He raised his snout into the air and let the wind fill his senses with all of its secrets. Five wolves tracked him tonight. One whose scent was so familiar it hurt his heart. He wanted to lash out for the pain it caused him. Rip their throats out and watch their blood pool around his paws.

It took all he had every day not to go on the offensive and attack those who kept him on the run and hiding in the shadows. He could rule over them all.

He had.

Before he died.

The enforcers stopped a few feet from the crack in the earth Mik hid in. This area was riddled with shadow-laced entrances to Hell. No wonder the Children of the Goddess of the Moon had been tainted by demons. 

Fucking Rasputin.

One by one, the enforces sniffed around the area, searching for his scent. But shadow hid a myriad of sins. Even his. 

Being murdered, dragged to Hell, and back to life again had some advantages. If that’s what being able to sense and use shadow like a fucking demon could be considered. 

He’d trade that any day of the week, twice on Sundays, to have his old life and memories back. No, that wasn't exactly right. There was some thing about his old life that he didn't want. He just couldn't remember what that was. His mind was a jumble of broken thoughts, dream-like images, and pure instinct. The longer he stayed as a wolf, the worse it was getting.

At least he could rely on those animal instincts. His beast mind recognized the frustrated snuffles and snorts of losing the scent of prey, and settled himself deeper into his hiding spot. Soon enough the enforcers looking for him would run off and report in that he’d evaded them yet again. Then he could return to that which obsessed him.

The reason he was here, and wouldn't leave even if he had to spend most of his time evading the enforcers.

He wouldn't give up hunting her.