Crown of Defiance

Prologue

Welcome to Crown of Defiance, my newest and most dazzling tale of werewolves and mates, kings and alphas, dominance and submission, etc, etc. I hope that you enjoy the story and if not that's cool too, to each their own. However, if you are inclined to dislike this book please keep the negativity to yourself. I'm all for healthy criticism, in fact I encourage it, but please be respectful of others and the work I've put into writing this when you comment. Now, open the curtains! Characters get in place! The story has begun...

Seven hundred years ago in the divide between Scotland and England a child had been born as the Goddess watched overhead; her Eye wide open as she took in the birth of a Queen. The English child was born under the moonlight, her ebony hair already to her shoulders and soft features sharpened by the power emanating off the newborn's skin. Her mother, a half breed wolf - oracle, died holding her child under her arms in the forest. No one but the baby remained in the small gap between the trees that the mother had taken shelter in. There was no chance of survival for the babe; until they came.

Blessed by the Goddess herself the baby became shrouded in a glow of light, her small hands and feet becoming paws. The cherub cheeks elongated ending in a small snout and pink nose. The black fur was shaggy and short, warming the small wolf pup with the same silver eyes of the child.

Amber eyes appeared in the trees. As if it could already sense the danger the pup tried to hide beside the dead woman's body. The wolves stepped into the clearing. With the feral gleam in their eyes and mud covered coats they looked as wild as they were, but their instincts weren't guided by survival this time. They had heard Her call.

Even as a small wolf pup the power still waved off the child. The wolf at the head of the party of three approached slowly. His brown fur was bent down in precaution showing his vulnerability. After the fear and confusion faded from the baby's eyes and sleep began to take over the wolf grabbed her by the scruff and took off with its companions.

It wasn't until she was the age of eight that the child would ever be anything other than part of the pack. A hunter came into the forest, his cross bow readied as he followed the tracks from his pastures to their den.

The night was eerily quiet as the man crept through the forest, weapon raised steadily against the side of his face. Fear and pride mixed in the male's scent as he followed the tracks of a dozen close knit wolves. It was suicidal to go near their den, but his family was starving due to the consistent losses of their livestock. There no longer was a choice if they were to survive.

He crept closer and closer to the alcove in the forest who knew they hid in. Strong and crafty, the wolves had never hidden that the woods were their territory. A fleeting thought of his starving children strengthened his resolve and he waded deeper into brush.

Suddenly the back of his neck felt chills and he knew he wasn't alone. Going stock still, the hunter let his eyes check around him. Left to right he scanned until finally, on his right, his eyes met bright amber ones. A small gasp choked out of his throat and he raised the bow - bam!

The wolf streaked out of the way of the bolt just in time. Survival made his panic channel into pure instinct. Soon another bolt was in the bow. Bam! He shot again.

This time he didn't miss.

The thud of the wolf's body hitting the ground echoed through the now silent woods. For a few precious seconds the hunter bowed over the body, sending a small prayer up to his gods to protect the wolf's soul. After loading another bolt into the cross bow he continued his hunt. Turning in the direction the wolf had come from, he treaded along a small makeshift path.

His children's faces sheltered his guilt as he searched for more of the pack. Paw prints marked the path where the wolves journeyed. He could make out small bones and flecks of blood scattered around. It was probably the leftovers of his cattle they had pulled back home for their other pack mates.

The shadows against the tree trunks marked how close the day was to night. Green ferns and toadstools crept along the path, avoiding the dirt packed path in between. Even if he managed to knock off some of the beasts there was no way he would kill all of them before they got him. It was a fools mission. His family would be left without a provider, but he had hope in his eldest daughter. She was clever and quick on her feet, a joy to all who met her. Fourteen years hadn't been nearly enough time with her, but she would handle affairs for the farm until his only son grew up.

Kyrian had always been an odd child. Technically he wasn't his son, he had found him near the edge of the woods years back. Only four years old and he could have sworn the boy was wiser than any of them.

The man shook his head to clear his traveling thoughts. Only one thing mattered. His family would survive, even if he didn't. All he had to do was end the nightmare the pack had delivered.

With one last deep breath he leaped between the trees that sheltered a clearing. The lazing wolves rippled in shock, snarling maws with fangs snapped wide in threat. One bolt went through a female's eye. He loaded another just in time.

A male leaped at him with claws out to scrape out his guts. The shot went straight through the wolf's jugular before he got anywhere near his mid section. Another bolt was in and shot one after another. It wasn't until the fifth body hit the ground that the hunter rose from instincts to face off the remaining three wolves. His hunt was too successful; suspicion made the hairs on the back of his neck raise. The three didn't approach him, instead they clustered in a semicircle opening the opposite direction from him.

He was shaken out of his thoughts as the two of the wolves stalked toward him - one on each side. Their fur was raised to be more threatening as they hunted him. Malice stung the air as they growled at their newest prey.

Raising his cross bow the hunter eyed the group of three. If he shot one, the other two would kill him before he got a chance to load another bolt. If he didn't shoot all three of them would kill him. Hysterical laughter built in his chest as he tried to decide which way to die, but he pushed it down. They WILL survive.

He aimed at the biggest wolf, the black furred beauty in the middle with eery silver eyes, and shot.

Faster than lighting the other two wolves threw themselves in front of his arrow. The impact of the two wolves hitting each other and the soft whine as the arrow found its place in one of their stomachs echoed through the forest. The hunter scrambled backwards, loading another bolt as the wolves untangled themselves from their dying comrade.

He aimed again at the black wolf and didn't hesitate. The shot rang through the air, but yet again another wolf through itself in its path. The father's luck ran out after that.

The black wolf leaped on top of him, snarling at his throat. The last thing he saw was the fleeting image of his children and wife, eating and sleeping safe and sound.