Hidden Wolves book 4
His pack would've killed him for his kinks and desires, but his human lover might destroy his wolf.
Brandt Davis loved being part of his Michigan werewolf pack, until they found his stash of gay porn. He escaped their anger, running in wolf-form into the wilderness, but he can’t live that way forever. And he can’t hide in fur like a coward when an injured man needs his help.
Ethan Sjulstad knows life is making him crazy when a solo hike into the Minnesota Boundary Waters seems reasonable. Then a bad fall leaves him seriously hurt and facing death. Delirious, he hallucinates being rescued by a big gray wolf and a naked woodland godling. For a man who has always loved fantasy, it's worth surviving just to find out what the hell is going on.
(This is a lightly edited rerelease of the 2014 original.)
- 4 To Be Read lists
- 3 Read lists
Publisher: Independently Published
Ethan Sjulstad had been in scary situations before. But lying on the forest floor, miles from the nearest doctor, with a skewered, bleeding, throbbing, messed-up leg was definitely top of the list. Ex-skewered leg, at least, thanks to the gorgeous naked guy crouching ten feet away. If that was really what was happening, because despite the pain in his thigh and the nausea and the smell of mud and blood and pine needles, Ethan was half-convinced he was dreaming. Or maybe hallucinating.
He’d only had a second’s warning, a hint of instability, before the edge of the ridge gave way under him. He’d plunged into a jumble of falling, a vicious pain in his leg and his head, dizziness and fear. And then giant wolves and naked dark-haired men, which was where the probably hallucinating part came in.READ MORE
He slid his hand down his thigh and pressed there, slightly reassured of reality by the intense pain that arrowed through his leg. The unlikely vision in front of him didn’t change, though.
The guy who called himself Brandt was tall and fit, his skin golden and unblemished, his shoulders wide, his arms as strong looking as they’d felt. His features were regular, but not extraordinary; his mouth was a little big, his dark eyes shadowed by heavy brows. And he was definitely naked, in the middle of the BWCA wilderness, and amazingly unselfconscious about it.
For a moment, Ethan let himself imagine Brandt as some kind of woodland god, naked in the primordial forest. Then Brandt swore under his breath and bent to pull a thorny twig from the sole of one foot, and the illusion was broken. Woodland gods didn’t usually say fuck. Unless they were talking to a dryad or… Ethan blinked, wondering if maybe he’d done more damage to his head than he realized. Brandt flicked the thorn aside and gave him an embarrassed look. “Hate pricker-bushes.”
“Yeah. Me too.” The air of unreality hovered. The throbbing of his leg combined with the pounding in his head to make it difficult to think. Ethan searched fuzzily for something else to say. Godling, madman, or hallucination, he still didn’t want to be left alone out here. “Come here often?”
Brandt laughed. The man had a good laugh, warm and sane. It sounded real. “No. And definitely not naked.”
“Ah. I didn’t want to mention it.”
“Well, you’re the politest fucker I’ve met in a long time. You have to be wondering.”COLLAPSE