Master of Wolves by Angela Knight Read Free Book Online Page B

George Ayers and told him that an anonymous benefactor had donated a drug dog earmarked for Clarkston. All they had to do was pick it up.
    When Ayers and Faith came to collect the dog, Jim was waiting in his favorite German shepherd guise. He’d put on a good enough show with Ray to convince them Rambo was the drug dog of their dreams.
    But if he’d had any delusions this mission was going to be easy, they were dashed the next day. Encountering the werewolf’s scent trail in a department hallway, Jim immediately realized the situation was even more complicated than he’d thought.
    It hadn’t improved any since then. What was more, his gut told Jim things were only going to get worse.
    He had to find that rogue werewolf before somebody else died.
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    Guinevere Pendragon’s heels clicked on the marble floor past a Waterford crystal vase filled with vivid Mageverse roses. She’d redecorated last year at Arthur’s urging, and she had to admit she liked the results better than some of his other design ideas. With its elegant antiques and soaring ceilings, their home now looked like one of the Hollywood mansions her husband admired on the E! channel. There’d been a memorable decade there when they’d lived in a dead ringer for Graceland.
    Arthur liked to keep up with the times, whether it was through his T-shirt collection, his Elvis CDs, or his addiction to reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond. He said it was the only way they could understand the mortals who were their sworn responsibility.
    Sixteen hundred years ago, an alien magician named Merlin had given deserving residents of Camelot sips from a magical grail. His spell had turned the king and his men into vampire warriors, while Guinevere and her ladies became powerful sorceresses called Majae. Merlin had christened them all the Magekind and charged them with the task of protecting mankind from itself.
    For the past sixteen hundred years, the Magekind had worked to guide the planet to a stable, peaceful future. It was a difficult job that had become even tougher since a pack of evil vampires had declared war on them all.
    Rounding the corner, Gwen heard Santana’s bluesy guitar sobbing from the entertainment center she’d magicked for Arthur. She brightened, lengthening her strides. The music meant her husband was home and not off fighting vamps somewhere.
    Apart from her relief that he was safe, she needed him tonight. Her head pounded with that particularly vicious beat that meant they’d been apart too long. Thanks to Merlin’s magic, Gwen had to provide blood for her vampire husband on a regular basis, or her blood pressure would spike dangerously high. She could magically remove the excess and bottle it, of course, but tonight she wanted that personal touch.
    Rounding the corner, she found Arthur standing in the living room, staring down into the fire blazing in the black marble fireplace. He looked big and tough in black jeans and a U2 T-shirt, his dark hair curling around his broad shoulders. He held a bottle of blood in one hand, but he had yet to draw its magical cork.
    Good. He was probably still hungry. Her body warmed and tightened for him.
    â€œIt’s bad, Gwen.” Arthur looked up at her, his voice rasping with exhaustion. “I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up. Those bastards are killing too many of our people.” His handsome, boyish face was gray with fatigue, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
    â€œYou haven’t been eating enough.” She moved toward him, forgetting her own headache. He was right about the Magekind’s losses, but he had always been her first concern. “You’ve got to eat, Arthur. Even if it’s from a bottle.”
    His smile flashed against the dark background of his short, neat beard. “You know I prefer to drink from that pretty throat of yours.” His smile faded. “Speaking of which, you’re looking