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Extinction

ExtinctionResplendence Publishing
ISBN eBook: N/A
Genre: Paranormal, Shifters, M/M
Series: Book one in the Refuge Shifters Series.
Book Length: Novel
Release Date: June 16, 2009

Read an Excerpt | Order eBook at Resplendence Publishing

Professor of Environmental Science/Wildlife studies at UNLV, Jack McBain has spent his adult life trying to track a legend overheard during his youth. Born and raised in the Canadian Province of Newfoundland, Jack’s grandparents related stories of a race of people eradicated by European settlers in 1829. According to the legend, the Beothuk people didn’t die out as first thought, but were transformed into wolf shifters.

On Spirit Mountain, he finally comes face to face with not only the shifter he’s been looking for, but the man of his dreams he didn’t know he needed.

Toby has lived a life afraid of man. Hidden among the mountains of California and Nevada by his parents, he’s longed for the one person he can share his life with, his mate. When he smells Jack McBain for the first time, he knows he’s finally found him.

Excerpt

Note for Readers: You must be over eighteen to read this excerpt.

March 21, 2009

A wolf has been spotted in the area of Spirit Mountain. My hopes are that I’m getting closer to finding one of the elusive packs of Beothuk shifters. It’s been a long eleven years of following leads, but I have a good feeling about this. I’ll trek up the north slope of the mountain as far as possible and set up camp.

After repacking his journal, Jack pulled back onto the road and headed south toward the Newberry Mountains. An accomplished tracker, Jack knew if the shifters were indeed on Spirit Mountain, he’d find them.

Following an off-road trail, Jack drove as far as he could before pulling his jeep to a stop. Even though he’d set out that morning before six, the clock on the dash read almost nine. Damn. He’d have to make good time if he had any hope at all of reaching his desired location while the sun was still out.

Hoisting a pack onto his back, Jack set out. The route he chose to take was a fairly easy one for an experienced climber such as himself. His hope was to find a way to circle to the other side of the mountain, reaching the first of three plateaus.

Scrambling up the rocky terrain was tiresome, but not difficult, and Jack’s hopes of making good time soared. He had been six-years-old the first time his great-grandmother, Sara, had told him the story of the Beothuk people. Native to Newfoundland, the Beothuks population declined shortly after the European settlers first landed on the coastal province. According to legend, as the Beothuks’ numbers dwindled, they asked the Earth Mother to help them. In her revered wisdom, the goddess gifted the Beothuks with the ability to shift into wolf form, therefore allowing them to meld into the local wildlife population.

The shifters lived peacefully in the wilds of Newfoundland for almost seventy years, until the settlers realized the dramatic increase in the number of wolves in the area. Sara didn’t know whether the settlers simply suspected the wolves and Beothuks were one and the same, but they began systematically hunting them down. The last known Newfoundland wolf was killed in nineteen-ten. According to his great-grandmother, some suspected small groups escaped the province.

Stopping to take a drink, Jack’s gaze roamed the rocky outcroppings. Are you here? He slipped the water bottle back into his pack and continued. What would he say to them if he managed to track them down? Did they even speak English?

Jack reached the plateau and stopped for a brief rest while he studied his topographical map. He could safely manage the terrain to the west. The ravines and rattle snakes, he’d have to watch out for. He tucked the map into his pants pocket and shouldered his pack.

Two hours later, he sensed movement off to his right, above his location. He slowly lowered his pack and withdrew a small pair of binoculars. Up the mountain, a flash of white darted behind a cluster of rocks. “Gotcha.”

Jack lowered the binoculars. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel the need to rush after the white wolf. Knowing his life’s work hadn’t been in vain was enough for the moment.

Digging out his map once more, he found a plateau three hundred yards above and to the west of him. If he made camp and didn’t run after the wolf, perhaps the white beauty would stay in the area. Mind made up, Jack picked his way across the rocks.

It only took a few minutes to erect his small one-man tent. He cleared away as many rocks as he could, checking for snakes. The last thing he’d welcome was a rattler in his sleeping bag.

By the time his camp was set up, the sun was dipping low in the sky. Jack brought out the small expedition stove, bottle of propane and his number one survival necessity, a coffee pot.

After he had the water on to boil, he pulled his sleeping bag out of the tent and spread it out for a cushion. It had been a hell of a day. He couldn’t help but to wonder whether the wolf would be curious enough to come near his camp.

Jack withdrew the folder of essays from his pack he’d yet to grade and set them next to his hip. He wished he didn’t have to teach at all. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy his job, but he would much rather spend his time on his true passion. Unfortunately, he had bills to pay. Shit. That reminded him. He’d forgotten to mail the payment for his grandmother’s hospital bill. Granny had been gone almost four years and he was still making monthly payments. After making a cup of coffee, he opened the folder and tried to concentrate on his grading.

As the sun dipped lower, Jack gave up and put the folder into his pack. He tried to soak up as much of the fading warmth as he could. Without a fire, nights in the desert that time of year were brutal. Swallowing the last dredges of his coffee, he stood and went to the edge of his camp to pee.

Cock in hand, he gazed at the rocks above as a healthy stream splashed onto the dry ground a foot from his feet. He shook himself off and pleasured himself with several strokes before stuffing his half-erect penis back into his underwear without bothering to zip up. The feel of his hand on his cock felt too good to abandon. He moved back to his sleeping bag and pushed his jeans and underwear down to his thighs.

One hand pushed up under his T-shirt to pinch at his nipples, while the other encircled his cock. Jack closed his eyes and tried to picture his last lover in his mind as he continued to stroke himself. How sad was he that he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been laid by anyone of importance?

His solitary lifestyle wasn’t exactly conducive to a healthy sex life. Usually he got by with a blow job at one of the clubs he occasionally frequented, or his hand. Probably the nearest he’d come to a relationship had been with his friend, Ryker Allen. Although he and Ryker fucked occasionally, his friend had made it clear there could never be anything deeper than friendship between them.

So, with the six-foot-five blond Adonis in mind, Jack gripped his cock tighter. He imagined Ryker’s cobalt blue eyes as they took turns fucking each other.

“Yeah,” he moaned, pressing his thumb against the slit on the crown of his erection.

Ryker was a damn good lover, but he was a little too secretive to make any kind of relationship work. Besides, Ryker was the wealthiest man he’d ever met, and still didn’t trust Jack enough to tell him how he’d amassed his fortune. He was the one who got Jack the job at UNLV.

Thoughts of Ryker just weren’t doing it for him, as evidenced by his declining erection. Pushing images of his friend away, Jack tried to concentrate solely on the feeling of his own hands, touching and pulling on his flesh. He slipped the hand out from under his shirt to cup and squeeze his balls. “Yessss,” he hissed, erection back in full force.

Thrusting up into his hand, hips lifting off the ground, he set a fast rhythm. As the first rope of seed shot from his cock, he heard a noise behind him. Too far gone to stop, he finished milking his cock before turning around. Nothing. Jack looked up and spotted the white wolf perched above his camp on the rocky slope.

Despite his brain telling him he should be frightened, his heart knew better. Taking a chance that the shifter did indeed speak English, Jack reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a bandana. “Sorry about that. When you spend as much time alone as I do, you have to take care of certain things by yourself,” he explained while wiping his stomach and hand.

Knowing wolves had a keen sense of smell, Jack turned and flung the bandana up onto the rocks above him, but below the wolf. Maybe if he gave his new friend something safe to sniff he’d get used to Jack’s smell.

The wolf above him cocked his head at Jack. Chuckling, Jack shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. My name’s Jack, by the way,” he introduced as he pulled up his jeans.

He resumed his spot on the sleeping bag with his back to the wolf. He wasn’t sure if it was the loneliness or the need to communicate, but Jack began talking to the beautiful white creature as he fixed another cup of coffee. “I’ve been looking for you for years now. I’m not sure how much of this you understand, but I truly mean you no harm. I heard what happened to the two others in your pack at the Grand Canyon. It made me sick to think someone could do that.”

Jack took a sip of his coffee. The sun was all but a memory when he turned to glance up at his new friend. To his surprise, the wolf had the faded red bandana tucked between his front paws as he sat looking down at Jack.

Retrieving both of his battery operated lanterns from his pack, Jack switched them on and crawled into the sleeping bag. “Think maybe I’ll sleep out under the stars. Besides, I have a lot more to tell you,” Jack continued.