The Wyvern's Defender Dire Wolf Read online

  THE WYVERN’S DEFENDER DIRE WOLF

  Dial A Defender (Book 1)

  By ALICE SUMMERFIELD

  The Wyvern’s Defender Dire Wolf

  Copyright © 2019 by Alice Summerfield

  The Wyvern’s Defender Dire Wolf

  Copyright 2019, Alice Summerfield

  First electronic publication: April 2019

  Published in the United States of America.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  License Statement

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Note from the Author

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Cover Design by woofie_2015

  ( SelfPubBookCovers.com/ woofie_2015 )

  Sign up for Alice Summerfield’s Newsletter

  If you’d like to receive sneak peeks at future releases, freebies, and more, please sign up for my mailing list at https://madmimi.com/signups/195721/join

  Summary

  A single word scribbled on a scrap of paper by an unsteady hand chilled the blood in her veins. It read simply: Run!

  After a rough childhood, dire wolf shifter and military veteran Rudolf “Dolf” Shaw has found family – and a substitute pack – in working for supernatural protection agency, Dial A Defender. Dolf doesn’t want – or need – anything more, until he responds to a break in and finds Helena, an electrifying woman in obvious need of a place to lie low.

  But when a pack of hellhounds comes sniffing around, his neighbor is murdered, and the biggest dragon that Dolf has ever seen tries to fry him, Dolf begins to suspect that he may have bitten off more than he can chew in taking Helena in and giving her his protection. A single dire wolf has no hope of defeating an entire pack of hellhounds, much less an old dragon, but for Helena’s sake, Dolf has to try. Because the thing is, she just might be his soul’s mate.

  Helena can’t outrun, outsmart, or outfight her dragon relatives, but she’s willing to die trying. Because the thing that she’s discovered about herself since going on the run is this: She’s not the type to take things lying down; not her grandfather’s self-serving plan for her future, not Dolf’s distracting hotness, and certainly not her new friend’s murder.

  Why was the kindly widower murdered? Are Helena and Dolf soul mates? And is there any way that Dolf and the Defenders can make Helena ultimately feel safe again?

  The Wyvern’s Defender Dire Wolf is a steamy, full length novel chock-full of humor, cozy mystery, action, and a heartwarming romance. If you love reading about mysterious murders, bookish but brave heroines, or the thoroughly confounded heroes that fall in love with them almost entirely against their will, don’t miss this exciting read! Scroll up and one click today!

  Table of Contents

  Sign up for Alice Summerfield’s Newsletter

  Chapter 01 – Helena

  Chapter 02 – Helena

  Chapter 03 – Helena

  Chapter 04 – Dolf

  Chapter 05 – Helena

  Chapter 06 – Rudolf

  Chapter 07 – Helena

  Chapter 08 – Dolf

  Chapter 09 – Helena

  Chapter 10 – Dolf

  Chapter 11 – Helena

  Chapter 10 – Dolf

  Chapter 11 – Helena

  Chapter 12 – Dolf

  Chapter 13 – Helena

  Chapter 14 – Dolf

  Chapter 15 – Helena

  Chapter 16 – Dolf

  Chapter 17 – Helena

  Chapter 18 – Dolf

  Chapter 19 – Helena

  Chapter 20 – Dolf

  Chapter 21 – Helena

  Chapter 22 – Helena

  Chapter 22 – Dolf

  Chapter 23 – Helena

  Chapter 24 – Dolf

  Chapter 25 – Helena

  Chapter 26 – Helena

  Chapter 27 – Dolf

  Books in the Lone Dragons Series

  Similar Books by Alice Summerfield

  Chapter 01 – Helena

  A true lady always carried a handkerchief – or so Helena’s grandmother had always told her. She had also asserted on various occasions that true ladies never ate strawberry ice cream, were always agreeable, and lacked allergies. They were also unfailingly loyal to their families, too refined to sweat, no not even in private, and they never ever ran away from home with musicians or appliance repairmen.

  The first, Helena knew, was a jab at her mother; the second, at her mother’s twin sister.

  As the illegitimate daughter of a woman that had deserted her husband in favor of running off with a feckless musician nearly ten years her junior, Helena had often marveled that her grandmother had put so much time and effort into trying to turn her into a lady; especially when one considered her terrible allergies. Her inability to transform was probably a mark against her as well, though her grandmother had at least been enough of a lady not to say such things to Helena’s face. Besides, Helena’s grandmother had always had her grandfather for that sort of thing. He was no lady, true or otherwise.

  And so it was inevitable that even on the eve of her graduation, at a time of year when at least half the plants were asleep and dreaming of spring, that Helena should nevertheless need to blow her nose. Badly.

  Helena had never been able shake her allergies or even to entirely medicate them away – her entire body seemed to loathe every spore or speck of dust and pollen in existence everywhere, ever – but the bit about the handkerchief, at least, had stuck.

  It was too bad that a lady never blew her nose in public.

  “Excuse me,” Helena sniffled. “I need to powder my nose.”

  Her grandmother had died back when Helena had been pursuing her undergraduate degree, but her grandfather was more than equal to picking up the slack in her grandmother’s absence. At Helena’s announcement, he snorted and cast a censorious look her way, making his disapproval of both Helena and her choice of nose very clear.

  It was her nose, true, but it wasn’t her fault that she had to blow it. It was because of the plants… and possibly the dust. When all else failed, Helena liked to blame the dust, although it had never done her much good.

  Her grandfather had always said that only weak people blamed others, a sentiment that her grandmother had always echoed with an ominous little click of her knitting needles. Had she been in her other form, Helena had known even as a child, it would have been an ominous little click of her claws.

  In the present, Helena’s Uncle Terence bravely leaped to her defense. His voice quivering, he managed to stutter out a quick “W-Well, if you must, y-you must. But hurry back?”

  “Of course,” said Helena with a little nod.

  As she r
ose, Helena’s Aunt Barbara stood too, saying coolly, “I’ll come with you. I’m sure there’s a shine on my nose too.”

  Helena had never seen her aunt with so much as a single hair out of place, never mind a shiny nose. But Helena nodded, as if she had any say in the matter, and her Uncle Terrence stood too.

  Her Uncle Terrence was always very polite.

  By contrast, Helena’s Uncle Sully didn’t even bother to look up from the amber depths of his drink. Her Aunt Barbara’s husband, Uncle Frank, was busy exchanging heated looks with one of the waitresses. He probably wouldn’t even notice that they had ever left the table. Grandfather’s attention had certainly already moved on.

  As far as celebratory dinners went, Helena had seen better. The one that they passed on the way to the bathroom, for example, seemed much happier. It was certainly livelier. And everyone seemed to like each other better too.

  In the bathroom, Helena’s aunt said, “The hooks in the stall are quite useless. Leave your purse with me. I’ll look after it while I attend to my nose.”

  “Alright,” said Helena uncertainly.

  As far back as she could remember, Helena’s aunt had rarely bothered herself in ways large or small for anyone. But her nose was itching dreadfully, and she was certain that it was going to start running at any moment, so Helena obediently passed her purse to her aunt. Then she practically dove into the nearest toilet stall.

  As soon as the thick door clicked shut behind her, Helena fished her handkerchief out of her pocket. With it came a ragged scrap of paper, one that she immediately dropped on the floor. Ignoring it for the time being, Helena gratefully blew her nose, long and loud and hard.

  It was such a relief!

  The restaurant in which they were ostensibly celebrating Helena’s graduate degree was one of those upscale places where nothing, not even the appetizers, cost less than a hundred dollars. Luxury was the watchword of the place, right down to the restroom accommodations.

  The toilet stalls were all roomy affairs with lovely little crystal chandeliers, real floor to ceiling walls, and real wooden doors. Thus, there was no one to see it when, feeling curious, Helena reached down to scoop up the scrap of paper from the patterned tiles that ran beneath her feet. Lifting the scrap of paper nearer her face wafted the scent of strong spirits up to Helena’s sensitive nose.

  Uncle Sully, thought Helena, as she glanced over the torn edge of a drink menu. Turning the corner over, she saw that he had written a single word on it in his jagged, uneven script. It was barely legible enough to read.

  A single word was all it took to chill the blood in her veins.

  It read simply: Run!

  Suddenly dizzy, Helena sagged inelegantly against the nearest wall, no doubt smudging the tasteful wallpaper on it beyond all repair.

  There was only one reason that Uncle Sully would write a note like that.

  Grandfather meant to have her Severed.

  Considered barely a dragon all her life, Helena hadn’t thought herself valuable enough to Sever. She couldn’t even shift!

  Severing was an awful thing. It was unspeakably cruel. Severing cut a person off from their soul mate – and everything that they might have been or done or become in the future, because they had met that one special person – and left only a husk behind.

  Helena’s Uncle Sullivan, Aunt Barbara, Uncle Terence, and Uncle Gregory had all been Severed. Sully, Barbara and Terence were also all broken wrecks, mostly incapable of functioning on their own, and no one had seen Uncle Gregory in decades, not since the night that it had happened. Everyone said that he was dead, either of the shock or his own hand.

  Helena’s mother had been Severed too, but somehow she had gotten past it or over it or found a cure. She had reportedly given up her ennui – as well as all her other vices – for her feckless musician, after all. One didn’t throw everything to the winds and run off with an itinerant crooner from a lack of passion. Somehow, and despite everything, Helena’s mother had still found her soul mate.

  The only one of that generation that hadn’t been Severed had been Helena’s mother’s twin sister, and that hadn’t been for lack of effort on the parts of Helena’s grandparents. Helena’s aunt – her other aunt – had been brave, fearless even. She had run away as a teenager, long before they could Sever her. And then, she had made a life for herself, married an appliance repairman, and built an even bigger, better life for herself with him.

  It had always galled Helena’s grandparents how well their disobedient, runaway daughter had done for herself. That, Helena suspected, was the reason that her grandmother had always insisted that ladies were always unfailingly loyal to their families, no matter what.

  Helena’s own mother might have done as well for herself after she had left with her musician, but there had been an accident when Helena was still a very little girl. Her parents had died, and with her mother’s twin not yet someone who was easy to find and no known relatives on her father’s side, Helena had been sent right back to her grandparents.

  And now, Uncle Sully thought that Helena could be like them. He thought that she could disobey, run away, and build a life for herself somewhere else just like her mother and her aunt had done all those years ago.

  I’m not like them, Helena wanted to tell him. I’m not that big or brave or strong.

  Except what choice did she have? She could be brave and run, just like her uncle wanted her to do, or she could stay put and be Severed like her drunken uncle, his frightened twin, and her ice cold aunt.

  I would rather die, thought Helena, surprising herself.

  A lady was rarely direct and never dramatic, after all. But did it count as being dramatic if you meant it? Helena didn’t think that it did. Then, it was just a statement of fact; an ominous one, in her case.

  And it wasn’t even impossible. Severing had killed Uncle Gregory, after all. She had never even gotten to meet him.

  “Helena?” called her aunt’s voice from somewhere beyond the stall.

  In that moment, Helena loved fiercely the stall’s wonderfully solid walls and door. If she ever got to outfit a restaurant’s bathroom, it was going to have equally reliable boundaries.

  “Yes, aunt?” asked Helena. She was relieved when her voice neither wavered nor broke.

  “You’ve been in there awhile,” said Aunt Barbara.

  “I’m fine,” said Helena quickly. “But I’ll be a bit longer than expected.”

  She blew her nose again, this time for her aunt’s benefit.

  “Then should I leave your purse on the counter?” inquired Aunt Barbara.

  “Yes, that would be fine!”

  Her heart pounding in her chest, Helena listened as her aunt’s footsteps moved from one end of the counter to the other. The bathroom’s door creaked open and then closed again. Alone in the bathroom, Helena breathed out a sigh of relief.

  If she were a clever, sensible person, Helena would have flushed her uncle’s note then. But she found that she couldn’t bring herself to destroy the evidence of her Uncle Sully’s love. She just couldn’t.

  Perhaps Grandfather is right about me, thought Helena, despairing.

  Maybe she really was the weak, sniveling, stupid creature that he had always not so secretly believed her to be. Weak blood, he had always sneered and never under his breath, something to which her grandmother had never failed to nod her head in agreement.

  But maybe I’m not, thought Helena, clutching the note tighter. Uncle Sully, at least, thought that she could be better.

  Tossing caution to the wind, Helena decided to keep her uncle’s note. It made her feel brave.

  Leaving her stall, Helena found her little black purse right where her aunt had said that it would be, slumped on the granite countertop between two of the sinks. Given to her as a very little girl by her mother, it was in danger of becoming a tatty, old thing.

  Tarletons didn’t own old or tatty things – Helena’s grandparents wouldn’t stand for it – so over the ye
ars, Helena’s Uncle Sully had kindly had her little purse’s outer leather surfaces oiled, repaired, and generally cared for by people who knew about such things. It was because of her Uncle Sully that Helena had been allowed to keep her mother’s purse as long as she had.

  Opening her purse now, Helena went to slip her uncle’s little note into the ragged bit of her purse’s lining, where it would be safe. Instead, she froze, utterly astonished.

  Lying in the center of Helena’s purse was a fat little roll of bills, held neatly together by a thick rubber band. It certainly hadn’t been there before her trip to the bathroom with Aunt Barbara.

  Aunt Barbara, thought Helena, stunned, because the money couldn’t have come from anyone else. Turning the fat little roll over with one finger, Helena saw that the outermost bill was a twenty.

  Maybe Uncle Sully isn’t the only one who wants me to run away, thought Helena, her emotions thick in her throat.

  It was the nicest thing that her aunt had ever done for her. Not coincidentally, it was also one of the very few things that her aunt had ever bothered to do for her.

  Quickly, Helena hid her uncle’s note in the ragged bit of her purse’s lining. It should be safe enough there. Things that slipped in there were rarely seen again, not without a great deal of effort on Helena’s part.

  She had already been in the bathroom for quite awhile, so Helena put off counting her aunt’s quiet gift for later. Instead, she touched up her makeup then headed back to the table where everyone was probably waiting for her. And if she checked that she hadn’t lost the little roll of bills three times in the bathroom and another two on her way back to the table, well, who could blame her? It wasn’t everyday that a large wad of cash appeared in her purse. Helena didn’t quite trust herself not to lose it.

  Back at the table, Helena discovered that everyone hadn’t bothered to wait for her. Uncle Sully was there, as were Aunt Barbara and Uncle Terrance, but Grandfather had apparently left the table to take a business call. Uncle Frank had probably left to rendezvous with the waitress in some dark corner or unlocked closet.