Pride’s Run
By Cat Kalen
Genre: Paranormal YA
Blurb:
Seventeen year old Pride is a
tracker—a werewolf with a hunger for blood. Taught to trick and to lure, she is
the perfect killing machine.
Kept leashed in the cellar by a master
who is as ruthless as he is powerful, Pride dreams of freedom, of living a
normal life, but escape from the compound is near impossible and disobedience
comes with a price.
When she learns her master intends to
breed her she knows she has to run.
But Pride soon learns that if she is to
survive in the wild, she must trust in the boy who promises her freedom, the
same boy she was sent to hunt.
With life and death hanging in the
balance the two find themselves on the run from the Paranormal Task
Force—officers who shoot first and ask questions later—as well as her master’s
handlers.
Can Pride flee the man who has held her
captive since birth and find sanctuary in the arms of a boy who has captured
her heart? Or will her master find her first?
Buy
Links:
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Excerpt:
California Wine Country
August 23rd, six days until full moon
The click of the lock at the top of the
stairwell is my only indication that morning is upon me. My ears perk up and I
listen for the coming footfalls. The weight on the stairs combined with the
creaking of each wooden step will let me know which handler has come for us this
time, which unlucky puppet has drawn the short end of the straw and is stuck
with letting the dogs out, or in this case, the werewolves.
Sure, he’ll come sauntering down the
stairs sporting a brave face and looking at me with cold, dark eyes meant to
intimidate. But the wolf inside me can smell his inner fear. Despite the fact
that I’m the one caged, underneath the handler’s cool, superficial shell he’s
the one who’s truly afraid.
A long column of light filters down the
stairs and I blink my eyes into focus as the bright rays infiltrate the pitch
black cellar. I don’t really need to blink. Not with my exceptional vision. But
I do it anyway because sometimes I simply like to pretend I’m a normal
seventeen year old girl, one who can’t see in the dark. It’s nonsense, I know.
I’m not fooling anyone. Least of all myself.
The door yawns wider and before the
first heavy boot, soiled with old blood that he’ll pass off as wine stains,
hits the top step, my senses go on high alert. I never know what morning will
bring—or who will bring it.
A breeze rushes down the stairs ahead
of the handler, carrying the aroma of the grand estate with it. I push past the
metallic scent of dried blood to catch traces of grape juice in the air, a
common smell on the majestic vineyard—that and illegal drugs, the estate’s real
source of income. Going beyond those familiar fragrances, I breathe deeper and
get hints of fresh bread baking in the upstairs kitchen. It must be Thursday.
Mica, the estate’s cook, always bakes on Thursday.
In my human form I roll onto my side
and lean toward the smell. Wistfully, my tongue darts out and brushes over my
bottom lip. There is something about that scent that always entices me and
before I can help it I envision myself eating a warm slice covered in rich
creamy butter, crispy on the outside, moist and tender on the inside.
My nostrils widen, but I know the bread
isn’t meant for me and not even one delicious crumb will pass over my dry lips.
Not unless Mica sneaks it to me. As much as I’d love to taste her offerings I
don’t like it when she takes chances for me. Disobedience is far too risky for
the aging housekeeper. Despite that, my stomach growls in response to the aroma
and I fight off the cravings. I can’t hope for bread when it’s unlikely that
I’ll even be given a scrap of food today, especially if I can’t please him.
My master.
A boot hits the second step—the
handlers always descend slowly—and as I stretch my legs out on my dusty
mattress I hear the waking groans of Jace and Clover stirring in their own
cages beside me. I glance their way, and that’s when my attention falls on the
one empty cage in the cellar. My mother’s den. I breathe deep and fight off a
pang of sadness that I cannot afford to feel.
I turn away from the empty cage and
stare at the gray cement walls. I can’t bear to look at her den any longer. It
only reminds me of how they killed her and how all the pups were forced to
watch—to learn that disobedience comes with a price. Guilt and sorrow eat at me
to think that she’d died trying to free me.
When step number five creaks, I
diligently try to shake off the memories. The handler is close which means I
can’t think about my mother right now. I push all thoughts of her aside,
knowing that right now I have to think about my father and what he taught me
before the master killed him. Never let them see your fear.
I harden myself.
Prepare.
Before my master’s puppet even reaches
the bottom step, I know it’s the one they call Lawrence, the handler I hate the
most. The one with a weak mind, strong back, teeth like baked beans and beady
eyes that fit his ugly rat face.
He likes to call me kitten. I have a
few choice names that I’d like to call him in return, but I always bite the
inside of my cheek to resist the urge. Partly because I’d be whipped and partly
because Miss Kara educated me and taught me all about manners. I realize that
an educated wolf with manners might sound laughable. In my line of work,
however, education and manners are as lethal as a bear trap to those I hunt.
That’s how I lure my marks, how I bait my prey. A pretty face and good grace go
a long way for a trained killer like me.
My glance wanders to my leg, the one
peeking out from beneath my ratty blanket, and my eyes are drawn to the long
jagged scar tracking the length of my calf. I grimace. Even with my education
and manners, I never forget what I really am. I’m never allowed to.
“Hey kitten,” Lawrence says. Most would
think the nickname is a play on my birth name, Pride. But I know it’s the
handler’s way of cutting me down, to find control where he feels none. My
parents called me Pride because I was their pride and joy. Lions live in a
pride and since lions are cats…
He tosses a collar and chain into my
cage. “Leash up.”
I take note of the gun in his holster
before my glance locks on his. As I give him a good hard stare, he flinches.
The movement is slight, but I notice it. Dressed in my knee length nightgown,
long hair loose around my shoulders, I might look like an average seventeen
year old girl—harmless and innocent—but we all know I’m not.
Even though Lawrence keeps his face
blank and stares down at me with those dark eyes of his, he reeks of terror.
The scent is like a mixture of hot sweat and rotting compost. Oh, it’s not
pretty by any means. Nevertheless, the werewolf slumbering restlessly inside me
feeds off his fear, thrives on it, so I inhale and draw it deep into my lungs.
Without taking my eyes off his, I take
my time to leash up. My movements are slow and deliberate as I position the
collar. Metal grinds metal and the sound cuts the silence as I secure it around
my neck. The handler winces. So do the older, more obedient wolves that I bunk
with.
Jace cuts me a glance, chocolate eyes
now milky from old age warn me to behave. I realize he’s doing it for my own
good, but this morning I’m cold and hungry and in no mood for Lawrence’s
insults. Clover makes a noise to draw the handler’s attention away from me, and
all sets of eyes shift to her.
As Clover tries to pacify Lawrence,
averting her gaze in a show of respect and making small talk about the weather,
Lawrence opens my mother’s former cage and pulls out her cot. He gives it a
good hard shake and the breeze stirs the dust on the unfinished boards
masquerading as our ceiling. The particles dance in the stairwell light before
falling to the cold, cement floor.
When Lawrence tosses the cot into a
corner I stiffen. It can only mean one thing. My mother has been gone for a
little over a year now, and I know the master rarely keeps a cell empty for
long, which makes me wonder when and how he’s going to fill it?
Who will he breed?
I cringe at the thought of bringing
puppies into this world, but know it’s not something I have to worry about. The
master would never breed a wolf like me. My mother always said I was a
survivor, the only pup in a litter of three to make it, but hey, a runt is a
runt. Thanks to Darwin and his theory of ‘natural selection’ a runt is a
heritable trait that a pack can do without. When it comes to canine
reproduction, only one motto dictates: runts need not apply.
Deep in the bowels of the estate’s
basement, the master keeps other wolves, separating the strong and young from
one another. I’m smart enough to understand that he distances us so we can’t
conspire against him or speak telepathically. Wolves can only use telepathy
when in animal form, however. Well, most wolves that is. Oddly enough, I along
with Stone, an alpha wolf two years my senior are able to communicate while in
our human forms.
Sometimes the master does in-house
breeding, sometimes he sends us out to one of his associates—other drug-lords
who also harbor werewolves. It’s like he’s running a regular old puppy mill in
here. Except his puppies kill for him. Which begs the question, what does my
master have in store for me today?
Author
Bio:
Cat Kalen is a multi
published author in the romance genre under two pen names, Cat is a wife, mom,
sister, daughter, and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate
(she never says no to a brownie) pizza and watermelon. She has two teenagers
who keep her busy with their never ending activities, and a husband who is
convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. Cat can never find
balance in her life, is always trying to find time to go to the gym, can never
keep up with emails, Facebook or Twitter and tries to write page-turning books
that her readers will love.
A maritime native and
former financial officer, Cat has lived all over Canada but has finally settled
down in her childhood hometown with her family.
Links:
Twitter: @catkalen
Pride has
never known freedom. A slave since
birth, her only purpose to her master is her tracking skills and her bloodlust
that takes over when she releases her inner wolf. But all of that changes when she is forced
into a mission to capture a boy not much older than herself. When he offers her rescue from her slave’s
life, she is unsure to trust him or not.
Why should she trust a total stranger? But as they run away together,
she can’t help but to feel drawn to him.
Will they both make it to safety or will she end up in a worse situation
than she first started with?
I loved
this story. Pride is a beautiful
character that has always underestimated herself. As the runt and only survivor of her litter,
she doesn’t understand that she is so important, so strong and creative that
she is a threat to those who consider themselves her masters and
superiors. She has been wounded, she
feels lonely, and when placed in this new situation, she does what anyone else
would do, she follows along but with loads of suspicion and anger.
I
personally loved Logan Logan
Then to
make it all really interesting, the interplay of a romantic spark between Logan
and Pride is interesting. You literally
want them to get together and in some ways it is Pride’s pride and mistrust of
everyone that makes it the most interesting.
It definitely has the “first love” aspect going for it, and at some
points you wonder if it is even going to work out. Then you throw in Stone, another alpha male
that you really don’t want to trust, but in the end you can’t help but liking
him. It creates a slight love triangle,
though it seems more one sided when it comes to Stone and Pride.
Ms. Kalen
does a wonderful job in showing the life of a werewolf teenager who has been in
captivity all her life and is released into the “wild” both literally and
figuratively. Also the teenage angst and
just plain confusion of relationships make for a realistic reading experience.
Overall,
this is an amazing book, and I highly recommend it.
And because this book is so amazing, here is your chance to win it!
Happy Reading!
Cana
Going through my RSS subscriptions and catching up. This looks like such a great read. Thanks for your great review!
ReplyDelete-FABR Steph@FiveAlarmBookReviews