Lycan Lore excerpt

I posted a really cool interview with the main characters from this book, Cassandra and Cray, over on the Whipped Cream Blog. I thought I'd post a little excerpt for you guys. Even though this is a werewolf erotica, this snippet is a little scary. CAUTION! Don't read in the dark. *grin*

Lycan Lore is available from Amber Quill Press.




EXCERPT:
A whimpering to her left caught her ear. "Heather?" Cassandra's voice shook as she recognized a growing sense of fear.

Trying to quell her panic at the realization of her own peril, she took a deep breath and stepped off the trail into the brush. Carefully spreading branches apart with the end of her knife to afford her deeper passage, she disappeared into the undergrowth. A tearing sound caused her to pause.

What the heck was that?It almost sounded like tearing fabric.

Or...flesh, she concluded, Feeling a chill grip her innards as alarm hit her full force.

Instinct suggested her life was in danger. She couldn't help Heather if she were dead herself. Perhaps finding some help was a better course of action.

She started to retrace her steps. Another spine-straightening suggestion of ripping fabric followed by a moan of pain broke The dark stillness around her. A moist gurgle pursued its
wake.

Cassandra froze. Heather would be dead before she returned. What if it wasn't a mountain lion? What if it was a werewolf? She couldn't just leave her.

"Please..." Heather's voice murmured through the stillness.

Oh for God's sake, you've been listening to Graham's ridiculous chatter for too long.

Cassandra started forward once again, disregarding the noise she made as she picked her way through the thick brush. Cray had said to yell and be aggressive. If it were a cougar, perhaps the clatter would scare it away.

Besides, there's no such thing as--

Catching her foot on an exposed tree root, she tumbled forward, bursting through the other side of the bush in a clamorous rustle of leaves and snapping branches to land painfully on her hands and knees on the outskirts of a small clearing. Stunned by the fall, she leaned back onto her haunches and wiped the remnants of dirt and twigs from her palms.

Her flashlight rolled away, coming to rest several feet beyond her reach. Despite a hard knock on the ground, it remained lit, though its beam was dull. And her knife had disappeared somewhere within a mound of leaves on her left.
When she finally glanced around her dim surroundings, she realized that she'd happened onto the scene of something akin to a horror film.

Cassandra opened her mouth to scream, but terror choked the sound from her throat. All her psychological Profiling of lycanthropes fizzled away like water subjected to flame, for the shadowed creature before her--a strange mix of man and dog--couldn't be anything human.

Werewolves...

This couldn't be happening. Bears and mountain lions were like house let's compared to the monstrosity before her. As though to add a little more excitement to the situation, her flashlight chose that moment to flicker and go out, leaving the moon as her only source of light.

The reddish brown pelt covering the creatures back bristled, standing on end like the fur of a startled cat. Pausing over it's feast of woman flesh, it turned toward her, a menacing growl rumbling deep within it's corded throat. And despite the night around them, its glowing red eyes pierced the darkness, fierce and bright, like the taillights of a braking car.

Cassandra gulped hard when the creature riveted its cold-blooded stare on her. It took a step toward her, kicking the latent flashlight back toward her. Its beam snapped on, strong and steady, fully illuminating the tiny clearing and its inhabitants with chilling clarity.

The beast clenched and unclenched its dagger like claws, readying for a second kill. Then its lower jaw dropped open, revealing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth, and issued an ominous snarl. Cassandra felt the blood drain from her face.

Heather suddenly let out a gurgling groan, sufficiently distracting the creature long enough for Cassandra to jump to her feet. Knowing she'd never be able to fight her way through the brush at her back and make it to the trail leading to the campsites before the thing ran her down, she quickly scanned the near black foliage surrounding them.

She spied a partially hidden trail to her left. Taking advantage of the temporary diversion, she snatched her flashlight and shot across the clearing, disappearing down the path without so much as a backward glance. She could only pray the creature deemed her not worthy of a chase.

An infestation of overgrown branches stabbed the air, jutting across the pathway. With their drawn swords prepared to strike, it was as though the trees themselves sought to prevent her escape. Nature was not on her side.

The guilt of leaving Heather behind gnawed at her conscience, but there was nothing she could do for her. If she made it back to the campsite, she and Graham could use the truck to try and locate the park ranger, though the possibility seemed daunting. There were almost 40 miles of vehicle-accessible roadways through the entire park, and she had no idea how many rangers patrolled at night.

An ear piercing, skin prickling howl followed by the crashing of limbs alerted her to the verity that the thing had given chase. From the way it barreled through the brush behind her--a raging juggernaut on a mission--Cassandra knew it was only a matter of moments before she'd be caught. Finally finding her voice, she drew in a large gulp of air and belted out a sharp scream.

The outcome was easy to guess. It would rip her to shreds, devour her tender innards, then leave the rest of her to rot. Of course, by the time the scavengers came behind to clean up the mess, there'd likely be little to nothing left.

***
To find out more about Shannon Leigh's writing, visit her Website.