Amarok by Angela J. Townsend Read Free Book Online Page A

his domain. For anyone who crossed Suka’s path died.
    Now, more than a century later, his rage and hatred increased with each passing year. There was no one Suka hated more than the Ryan family for the evil pact they held with Milak, a treaty formed long ago. Amarok had overheard stories, whispered by natives who traded goods with Weasel Tail, claiming that Abe Ryan was an animal transformed into human form to do Milak’s bidding, and that all of Abe’s descendants still carried some sort of animal trait.
    Amarok had also heard others warn Weasel Tail of Suka’s wrath, but he’d only laughed the stories off as tall tales. Young, stubborn, and dim-witted, he boasted of the day he’d kill the bear to avenge his great-grandfather. On more than one occasion he’d seen the bear lurking near the cabin, standing in the deadfall, shadow cast across the permafrost, waiting and watching for the right moment to attack. Amarok wanted more than anything for Suka to kill Weasel Tail, to watch the bear rip the cretin to pieces for all his cruelty. But now he dreaded a run-in with the great bear. Once Suka killed Weasel Tail, he’d be after the girl, and there would be little Amarok could do to protect her, even though he would die if need be to save her. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the horrible images flashing through his mind.
    The wind howled around him and through the trees. Amarok jumped to his feet. His wolf heart pounded. A groan settled across the terrain, speaking to him of the thousand ways in which the girl could die in this lawless land. No matter the cost, he’d stay strong to protect her.
    Amarok shook the frost from his fur, turned eastward, and tipped his face to the welcome blush of daybreak.



11
    Emma staggered behind her captor, sleep tugging at her eyelids. They’d risen at dawn to continue their trek to God only knew where. It didn’t matter where they were headed. Nothing mattered anymore. She wanted out, and death held the door. Strange, how most people feared the end, and she welcomed it so openly. Emma wouldn’t allow fear to control her, because there was one thing she had learned about it—fear didn’t last long. It couldn’t. It took too much energy to sustain. Just like all the times Stan burst into her room, violating her space in a drunken fury, mad about a dish left on the kitchen table or hair in the bathroom sink—any excuse to beat her, terrorize her.
    The first few times he’d slapped her, she screamed until her throat was raw and her eyes red and swollen. But after those first blows, she’d gotten used to it, grown numb, and now he couldn’t scare her anymore. She got power from silence. No matter what Stan did to her, he couldn’t make her cry, couldn’t make her beg, and he couldn’t make her say she was sorry, not even when he beat her with his belt. Emma kept her focus on the muddy ground, occasionally glancing at Amarok to make sure he still walked by her side. At least he would be with her—at the end. She willed herself to think of nothing but the next step, and the next, until they arrived at whatever destination the creep had in mind.
    They hiked through a mile of deadfall and into a shaded forest floor of clinging muck and slushy snow. The brisk morning air carried a heavy fragrance of wet pine and musky earth. Emma swallowed the dry lump in her throat. She’d kill for a caramel latte with whipped cream and sprinkles. She sighed, thinking of how many times she’d passed on getting one, obsessed with calories. Now she’d drink one after another, or anything else, for that matter. For the last mile, thirst had plagued her, leaving her throat scratchy and raw.
    Emma tried to focus on her stride, but no matter how she struggled to forget, unwanted thoughts kept trickling in, the way hurtful memories did when she least expected or wanted them. Some small, stupid thing—a color, a smell, or even a word—would trigger a stampede of overwhelming thoughts.
    She