The Book
The only good predator is a dead one, as far as Joe Lowther is concerned.
That is until the day he shoots a wolf, only to watch the animal turn into a naked Callum Pope. Cal is being hunted by a group of humans who eradicate shifter packs for sport.
Joe makes a decision to help Cal and discovers a deeper connection with the young shifter. One which he’d like to explore. If they live that long.
| Word Count: | 32,200 |
| Cover Artist: | Meredith Russell |
| Editor: | Ericka Orrick & Jason Bradley |
| Genre: | Paranormal, MM Romance
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Sapphire Ranch Wolves Series
Book 1 - The Last Wolf
Book 2 -
The Hidden WolfBook 3 -
The Rogue Wolf
Buy Links
Love Lane Books |
Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK) | ARe | Smashwords | B&N |
iTunes |
KoboReviews
Rainbow Book Reviews -
"....All I was going to do was read the first chapter, just to get a feeling for what this story was like. I am still not sure what it was—The situation? The characters? The dialogue?—but I could not put down the book. There is something very real, something fascinating, at least for me, in a werewolf story set in an otherwise completely contemporary world. The general public doesn’t know about shifters, yet there are some hidden politics going on, secretive, brutal hunters on the prowl, and a semi-military group that comes in to help. It almost sounds normal–except for the shifter part...."
"....If you like werewolf stories that feel so contemporary you may think the paranormal creatures really ARE among us, if two men from different worlds who need to learn to work together if they want to survive sound interesting, and if you’re looking for an action-packed yet entertaining read with some very hot man-on-shifter action, then you will probably like this novella. I definitely want more of the same—as soon as possible...."USA Today -
"....When a book is over but the ending for the main characters is not yet complete, is that a satisfactory conclusion to the book? I will tell you that it is, if the book is well written. This is especially true when a book is part of a series....
....Ms. Brown sets us off on a journey of love and hate in the Sapphire Ranch series, and this is only the first book. I can hardly wait for the next one!..."Love Romance & More -
4/5 -
"....The Last Wolf brings the reader full on action almost from the very first page and really doesn’t let up. In fact, the only breathers we get from the danger to Cal and Joe are the moments during with they get to know and explore each other. Those moments were beautiful, heartwarming and sexy; a pure delight to read. In fact, between the constant threat of violence and the developing relationship, this book grabbed a hold of me and refused to let go until I finished the story...." The Blogger Girls -
"....So yes, I do recommend this new shifter series; it’s a little different, an easy fast read, sweet more than erotic, and comes with a nice little set up for book two. I just hope that it comes out soon, because that ending was a whopper.
Overall Impression: I really liked it!...." Prologue and 1st Chapter
PrologueThe chair by Joseph Lowther Senior’s hospital bed was designed by Satan and mass-produced by demons, his son decided. There was no headrest and no lumbar support for anyone over five foot three, and at nine inches taller, it made for an uncomfortable experience. Hour after hour, Joseph Lowther Junior had sat in the chair, and his neck and lower back hurt like a bitch, worse than a day spent on old Betsy, his father’s mare, and she had the jerkiest ride he’d ever encountered. Still, he spent every moment he wasn’t working on the ranch at his daddy’s side.
Joe Senior had been doing so well, but then the cancer returned. The doctors were blunt in their diagnosis: the cancer was widespread this time, and they weren’t making any promises about his long-term prospects even with treatment. Joe sat beside his father while the chemo wracked his body. Sometimes his daddy swore the treatment was worse than the disease, especially as he suffered horribly from the side-effects. Inwardly Joe agreed with him but suggested that he should be the one to lay around in bed all day while his father ran the ranch and then sat in the chair from hell doing ‘nuthin’. Then they’d see who had something to complain about. Joe Senior swore a blue cuss at him until the nurse looked horrified. Father and son grinned mischievously at each other as the nurse stalked away, her whole demeanor radiating outrage.
That afternoon Joe had sat for an hour before his father awoke, ostensibly working on his new book. Joe was a college professor, although he’d taken a year’s sabbatical to look after his father and the ranch. In truth, he was thinking about an unwelcome visitor he’d recently discovered.
“You ain’t doing much,” his daddy mumbled. “Ain’t gonna make your first million if you daydream all day.”
Joe glanced over to see his father blinking sleepily. Ignoring the twinges in his back, Joe stood and helped his father sit up.
“I keep telling you, the only people who’re gonna read this book are a few history professors, and they’re only reading it to find the mistakes.”
“Then why’re you writing it? Write something that’s gonna make us some money.”
Joe huffed loudly. It was an old, old argument. “I’m a nerdy academic, not a fiction writer. Much as I’d love to write about true love, wizards, or blowing shit up, I’m expected to write books about long-dead people and politics.”
“I need a drink.” As Joe reached for the cup on the side table, his daddy went on. “No reason you can’t write both, is there? Then you can stay on the ranch and write.”
With great difficulty, Joe refrained from stuffing the straw of the drink up his father’s nose. He had the greatest dad in the world, who’d understood that his only son was destined for something other than sheep ranching. Joe Senior had actively encouraged him to attend college and become a professor. Joe knew his father was lonely since the death of Joe’s mother and itching to find a way to get his son to agree to come back to Sapphire Ranch permanently before he was carried out in his box. Now Joe was acutely aware that day might be sooner rather than later.
“We’ve got more important things to worry about than what I write.”
“Like?”
“I saw a wolf over in the back paddock last night.”
His daddy frowned. “Wolves? There are no wolves in Texas.”
“This was a wolf, singular. I checked the sheep. They’re all still there, including the lambs.”
Joe had seen the wolf for the first time the previous night, a fleeting glimpse of glowing eyes as it tracked a coyote across the paddocks of Sapphire Ranch. He’d been convinced his eyes were deceiving him because he knew there were no wolves anywhere near the ranch.
“You sure it was a wolf? Are you sure it wasn’t a coyote? What did he look like?” Like all ranchers, his daddy hated predators, but he was peculiarly tenderhearted about wolves. Joe didn’t have the same warm fuzzy feelings. For him, the only good predator was a dead one.
“Four paws, big ears, long fangs. What do you think it looked like?” At his father’s scowl, Joe quit the snark. “I hope I’m mistaken, because if not, the next time I meet it will be at the end of my shotgun.” His father looked upset, and Joe cursed himself for mentioning it. “I’ll deal with it.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” his daddy said, shifting restlessly against his pillows. He winced, the lines deepening in his face.
“I hope so too. Have you seen the docs today?” Fear coiled in Joe’s gut as his daddy refused to look at him directly. “What did they say?”
His father made a disgusted noise. “Usual. See what the treatment does, gotta eat, then I can go home. Same old, same old.”
He hadn’t eaten since the treatment had started, the chemo making him nauseated the whole time. Never a large man, he was now skeletal and being fed through a tube.
“When’re you gonna listen to them, then?”
“When you bring me a steak with all the trimmin’s.”
“If I thought there was a hope in hell you were gonna eat it, old man, you could chow down on steak mornin’, noon, and night.”
“Old man?” His daddy made an outraged snort. “I’ll call you old man.” Joe Senior was just over fifty, but at the moment he appeared twenty years older, the skin on his face sagging and wrinkly from his weight loss and so pale he was almost the same color as the pillows.
“Want the steak, then?” Joe asked, throwing down the challenge.
His father sighed, wheezing. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow.”
Joe turned his head and blinked the tears away, not wanting his daddy to see how upset he was. When he’d gotten himself under control, Joe smiled at his father. “Maybe tomorrow. I gotta go. Got to be ready for that wolf.” He bent down and kissed his dad on the forehead.
His father sighed again. “I hope you are wrong, Junior.”
“Me too, me too.”
Chapter 1
The barn door was ajar, and from Joe’s position just inside, he had a good view of the whole yard. He sighed and shifted restlessly, his ass already dead, and he’d only been there an hour. It was gonna be a long night. It was hot and stuffy inside the barn, and he sipped at iced tea in the vain hope of cooling down.
“Show your face, you son of a bitch, and your hide will be gracing my floor come fall,” he muttered. Joe hated wolves for the sheep they stole. The ranch was making little enough profit as it was. He couldn’t understand his father’s soft attitude to wolves. It didn’t extend to other predators.
Two hours gone, and his back, still sore from the hospital visit, was aching even more. He was rubbing his lower back in a futile gesture and contemplating seeking his bed when his attention was caught by the whisper of movement in the far corner of the yard. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired. The animal hit the ground with a startlingly human cry.
Worried that he’d shot a person instead of a wolf, Joe approached cautiously, keeping the gun trained on it, intending to dispatch the creature if it wasn’t dead. To his shock, the animal, definitely a wolf, rolled over to look at him, its eyes glowing in the half-light. The almost human expression of fear and pain in the wolf’s eyes made him uncomfortable, but it had to be done. If it came back once, it would come back again, and Joe couldn’t have it hunting the livestock. The wolf wriggled, futilely trying to get away from the gun.
Joe took aim. “It’ll be all over soon, bud.”
Before he could pull the trigger again, Joe heard a metallic clink. He paused, unable to place the sound, then he took aim again, only to be confronted by a naked man on the ground and no sign of the wolf. Joe blinked rapidly, convinced he was hallucinating, but the man was still there. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Hell, every hair on his body stood on end. He squinted into the darkest corners of the yard, expecting to see the predator slinking away.
“What the fuck just happened, Lowther? Where the hell’s the wolf gone?” Joe tugged at his hair in confusion as he looked around. What had he seen? A wolf? A man in a wolf suit? His subconscious told him he was being stupid. He’d shot a damn wolf, not a man in a freaking furry suit.
“Here!”
Joe blinked at the unknown voice in his head. “Now I know I’m going insane. Voices in my head? Where’s the wolf?”
“Bleeding at your feet!”
The voice was more urgent that time. Joe’s attention snapped back to the young man at his feet. Shit, he’d forgotten that he’d shot him. But he’d shot a wolf! Brain whirling at what the hell he had shot, Joe dropped to his knees. There was a bullet hole although it didn’t seem to be bleeding that much. He turned him gently and cursed when he saw the bullet hadn’t gone straight through.
“I’ve got to get you to a hospital. You need a doctor.”
Joe was shocked when the man grasped his wrist with surprising strength, staring at him with huge eyes. “No.” In the dim light, he looked lean, and, Christ, Joe’s mind had to be playing tricks on him, he looked wolf-like. What the hell did a human/wolf—werewolf—look like?
“You need a doctor to get the bullet out or the wound will get infected.”
“Wolf. Don’t… need… a doctor.” The boy gasped as he tried to get the words out.
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous. You’ve got a bullet inside you.”
The man sounded so young. Joe looked at him closely for the first time and mentally downgraded him from man to boy. Joe was twenty-eight. This kid looked barely old enough to scratch his own ass, so smooth and slim Joe was pretty sure he could easily span his waist with both his hands.
“We’ve got to get the bullet out or…” Joe didn’t finish the sentence, figuring the boy was smart enough to know what he meant.
The boy flopped weakly back onto the dirt. “It’s already out.”
“What?”
“Bullet. Out.” He fumbled around by his side.
Confused, Joe pushed the boy’s fingers away and searched in the same area. His fingers closed around a wet, sharp object. Joe squinted at the mangled bullet in his palm. How the hell had the boy managed to get the bullet out?
“Hurts.” The boy let out a groan.
“Gotta stop the bleeding now. It’s gonna hurt.” Joe ripped off his shirt to pack against the hole.
The boy coughed. “Already fuckin’ hurts.”
“You need to see a doctor.”
“Healing. I’ll be ’kay soon. Need to rest.”
Joe couldn’t leave a stranger bleeding and alone in his yard, so, much against his better judgment, he worked his arms around the boy and got to his feet, staggering against the unaccustomed weight. The boy snuggled against Joe’s chest like a small child as Joe carried him into the one-story ranch house. Joe hesitated between the sofa and the bed—the only available bed—and eventually decided the boy’s need was greater.
Joe pulled back his mother’s comforter and laid his burden down on the sheet. The boy didn’t even open his eyes. He was a mess, but it was the wound Joe was more interested in.
The bullet hole that wasn’t there.
Joe frowned and poked at the boy’s side. “Uh, the hole. It’s gone.”
“It’s healed?” The boy didn’t sound surprised. “I heal fast.”
“Nobody heals that fast.”
“I do.” He yawned and closed his eyes.
“Do you need anything?”
“Just sleep.”
“Well then…” Joe ran out of things to say. He stood and pulled the cover over the boy, mentally apologizing to his mama for soiling her nice comforter. The boy appeared to be asleep before it covered his shoulders.
Joe took his time to look at his unexpected visitor. He was slim, with dark, tousled hair, and filthy dirty. He looked so young but had a hint of a dark shadow on his chin that saved him from looking about twelve.
“Who are you?” he asked out loud. “What the fuck are you?”
“Werewolf!”
“What did you say?”
But all Joe got was a choked-off snore and the boy smacking his mouth a couple of times.
Joe retreated to his kitchen, poured a tall glass of tea and took it to the table. He took the bullet out and placed it on the table. “How did you manage to expel this motherfucker all by your lonesome?” He rested his forehead on the heel of his hand as he pushed the crushed piece of metal around the table. What the hell just happened? He swore he’d heard the boy say “werewolf”, which was fucking ridiculous, even if Joe had thought the same thing earlier. Werewolves were mythical creatures. He’d done his share of reading about mythical creatures for his history degree, but they were fantasy, not real creatures. Wolves didn’t turn into men—naked men—and a bullet didn’t push out of flesh—animal or human. Yet he’d seen it with his own eyes. The boy should be dead, or at least seriously wounded and in agony, not sleeping the sleep of the young in Joe’s bed.
How the hell was he going to explain this to his daddy? How the hell could he explain it to himself?
* * * * *
Joe opened his eyes and shrieked at seeing a face close to his.
His visitor rocked back at his scream and blinked rapidly. He had beautiful brown eyes with long lashes.
Chagrined by his reaction, Joe sat up and wished he hadn’t as his back protested the night on the sofa. He rubbed his eyes and tried not to look at the cock of the naked boy that was directly in his line of sight. But Joe couldn’t help noticing how pretty it was, framed by dark curls.
“We have got to find you some clothes.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Joe looked up and caught the amused expression on the boy’s tired face. He couldn’t keep thinking of him as ‘the boy’. “What’s your name?”
“Cal. Callum Pope.”
“I’m Joseph Lowther. Joe. Gimme a hand up, Cal.”
Cal obliged and hauled Joe to his feet. The boy was taller than Joe expected, only three or so inches shorter than him.
Joe tried not to groan again as he stretched. “I’m too old to sleep on the sofa.”
“You could have shared the bed,” Cal said mildly. “It’s big enough.”
True enough, the bed was huge, but there was no way he would have shared it with a boy barely old enough to take a piss by himself. Technically there was Joe’s old bed, but while his father was in hospital, Joe had buried it under piles of his old gear he hadn’t gotten around to throwing in the trash.
“My clothes will be too big for you, but they’ll have to do,” Joe said, ignoring Cal’s smirk.
He walked into the bedroom and threw a faded pair of sweats and a T-shirt at Cal. “Put these on while I get some breakfast. I’ve got chores to do.”
“I could help you.” Cal’s voice was muffled as he put the T-shirt on over his head. As he pulled the fabric down, Joe frowned as he noticed there wasn’t a trace of where the bullet hole had been. Cal was clean now, having obviously taken the time to shower before he’d woken Joe up. Joe wasn’t sure how he felt about strangers wandering around his home while he slept on, oblivious.
The T-shirt was far too large, and despite Cal tying the drawstring, the sweats still slipped, exposing his hipbones.
“You know how to rake out stables?”
“I’ve lived on a ranch all my life.”
“But you’re a…” Joe licked his lips as he thought about what he could say. “You’re a…” Cal waited patiently as Joe stuttered his way through his thoughts. “The wolf vanished.”
“The wolf changed,” Cal corrected.
“Into a man.”
“Yes.”
“Into you.”
“Yes.”
Joe couldn’t believe he was going to say this. “You’re part wolf.”
“Werewolf, yes.” The boy said it like it was normal.
“Don’t you eat the herd?” Joe blurted out. He flushed as Cal laughed.
“I like a steak.”
“You’re a wolf and you eat cooked food?”
“Yep. I made some if you want it.”
“You made me breakfast?” Joe really hoped he wasn’t going to be offered something gross. “What did you make?”
“Waffles. Hurry up, or they’ll be cold.” Cal padded silently into the kitchen.
Joe took the time to use the bathroom before he followed his guest. The bathroom was immaculate, if a little steamy, so the boy had manners.
In the kitchen, Joe blinked at the volume of food on the old pine table. “This looks… amazing. Did you drive out to town?”
Cal laughed out loud. “Dude, I can cook. Much as I love the thought of giving your neighbors a cheap thrill, I don’t want to be arrested. And I’d have had to borrow your truck.”
“Couldn’t you…y’know.” Joe didn’t know the gesture for changing into a wolf.
“That’s not how it works.” Cal pulled a face. “Can you imagine if anyone saw a wolf running into town? They’d be lining up to pick me off. ’Sides, I was naked, so where would I keep the money? Fur doesn’t come with pockets. Eat, and I’ll bring you juice.”
“Rather have coffee.” Joe helped himself to waffles and syrup.
“Juice first, and I’ve already made the coffee. Next time I’ll cook bacon.”
“Next time?” Joe raised his eyebrow. “You’re presuming a lot.”
Cal smirked at him. “What can I say, I like you.”
Joe stared at him. “Where did you come from, kid?”
The smirk slid away. Cal sat down and glared at him. “One, I’m twenty-one, not a kid, and two, what does it matter where I came from?”
From flirty to angry in seconds. Joe didn’t know what he’d done to piss the kid off, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with a stranger’s temper tantrum. He shoveled the waffles into his mouth and bit back a moan.
All trace of Cal’s scowl vanished as he grinned at Joe’s pleasure. “Good?”
Joe swallowed and shook his head. “You’re like a young filly, prancing one minute, kicking the next.”
“And you’re like Bob, the bull on my ranch. Grouchy on the outside and soft as marshmallow inside.” He chuckled as Joe glared. “Bob looks just like that when I tickle his chin.”
“Tickle my chin and you’ll feel you’ve been hit by a bull,” Joe said flatly.
“I’ll remember that,” Cal said, but the bastard still looked amused as he ate his breakfast.
Joe chose to ignore the amusement and poured himself some coffee. “Why were you on my property?”
“I… uh… was just passing through,” Cal stuttered.
“Uh-huh, I saw you the night before. Why have you been hanging around here?”
Cal bit his lip and looked down at his juice. “I was hungry.”
“So you decided stealing my sheep was an easy option.”
“I didn’t steal your sheep. I was chasing a coyote.”
“You could have just knocked on the door and asked for supper,” Joe pointed out.
“I’m a werewolf, I didn’t need to ask for supper.”
“Next time, hunt later in the evening, and—what am I saying? You’re a freaking werewolf?”
“I thought you were taking it too calmly.”
“I am calm.” Joe could show a calm exterior even if his brain was shrieking like a teenage girl.
“Sure you are.”
“Cal, werewolves are fantasy. Mythical figures that don’t exist.”
Cal raised an eyebrow. “Ya think I’m a figment of your imagination?”
“No, you’re real enough.”
“Thanks for that. I felt real enough when I got a bullet in my side.” Cal pressed his side as if remembering the pain.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”
“It happens.”
“Being shot?”
“It’s an occupational hazard for a wolf. That’s why we try to stay away from people.”
“So where do you normally hunt?”
Cal shook his head. “Uh-uh. Can’t tell you.”
Joe pressed his lips together. The lack of information was starting to get on his nerves. “I can feed you, but then what?”
“Nothing. I just needed somewhere to rest. I’m not a hunter, and I take longer than a lot of wolves to recover from getting shot. If you don’t object, I’m gonna sleep for a while longer, then I can make dinner for us both. Once it’s dark, I’ll change back into wolf form and get going.”
“And where will you go?” Joe didn’t know why he was so concerned about the welfare of a stranger, but something about Cal was making all his nerves tingle.
“Why do you need to know?” Cal huffed impatiently as he stood up. “Do you want me to make some more waffles?”
“No.” Joe pushed his plate to one side. “Cal, are you in trouble? Is that why you’re not telling me anything?”
“Trouble?” Cal laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You could say that.”
“With the law?”
“Don’t worry, you’re not harboring a criminal.” Cal obviously tried to adopt his previous light tone, but he missed by a mile. “If I was in trouble with the law, you could just call Sheriff Clarke. He’s a decent man.”
“You know him?”
“He’s family—kind of.” Cal’s deliberate vagueness was enough to make Joe scream. “Milo’s mother was distantly related to my pops. I’ll fill the dishwasher.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You’ve got chores, remember?” Cal began clearing the table with the ease of someone used to domestic chores. “This won’t take long.”
Joe recognized the brush-off when he saw it. “Sure.”
“I’ll give you a hand when I’ve finished here.”
“You just said you need to rest.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I can manage the chores. I’m going to visit my daddy later—he’s in the hospital. I’d be much obliged if you make supper, and then I’ll take you wherever you need to go on my way to see him. ”
“You don’t have to do that. I can run.”
Joe gave Cal a long, steady look. “Take it as an apology for shooting you, ’kay?”
Cal slumped against the counter. “I need the rest.” It sounded like he was admitting a weakness. Joe wanted to ask more questions, but the chores needed to be done and he had a phone call to make.
“Start the dishwasher and go back to bed.”
“I like your bed,” Cal said, his eyes twinkling.
Joe shook his head and walked out of the kitchen. He found it difficult to keep up with Cal’s changeable moods.
* * * * *
Joe pulled on his boots and headed for the barn. Before starting his chores, he pulled out his phone. He hesitated a moment, then pressed the buttons.
“Clarke.”
Joe grinned at the brusque greeting. The local sheriff had little time for flowery greetings.
“Sheriff, Joe Lowther.”
“Joe, morning. Nothing wrong, I hope.”
“Everything’s fine, but I need some information. Do you know Cal Pope?”
“Cal Pope?” Clarke’s voice was wary. “Yeah, I do. How do you know him?”
“He turned up here last night.”
“Wait a minute.” Joe heard the sound of conversation in the background mute as if Clarke had shut the door, and then the sheriff let out an explosive breath. “Thank the Lord. No one’s heard from him in days. Is he all right?”
“He’s fine. A bit thin and very tired. He’s sleeping at the moment.” At least Joe hoped it was true and Cal hadn’t decided to slope off while his back was turned. “He claimed he knew you, and I wanted to check him out.”
“Cal’s a good boy. What about his brothers?”
“I don’t know anything about anyone else. It’s just Cal here.”
“Damn. I’d hoped… Joe, be careful, that boy’s got a whole lot of trouble following him.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Joe took a wild stab in the dark. “Wolf trouble?”
“He told you?” The sheriff sounded startled.
“He didn’t have to. I shot a wolf, and the next thing I know, a naked man is in my yard.”
“You shot him? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine. He healed up in front of me.”
“Lucky for you.”
“I shot a wolf,” Joe protested. “I didn’t expect him to turn into a man.”
“You don’t seem shocked,” Clarke said cautiously.
“I’m completely freaked, and I’m still not convinced it wasn't a hallucination, but Cal is real enough even if he is saying mad things.” Joe paused. “So you know about… wolves?”
“Yes, long time now. Look, I can’t talk here. You tell Cal to come to me. I’ll protect him.”
Joe heard a noise outside. He didn’t want to be caught talking to the sheriff if Cal had decided not to sleep. “I’ll tell him. I said I’d drive him anywhere he wanted to go tonight.”
“Don’t let him run away, Joe. I mean it. He needs help.”
“Why can’t he go home?”
“He hasn’t told you?”
“He’s told me jack shit apart from the fact that he knows you.”
“That just might save your life.”
“What?”
“Trust the boy, Joe. He’s one of the best.” The sheriff disconnected the call.
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