by
Twenty years before Simon found Paul, a decade before Aaron joined the Minneapolis West pack, there were other gay wolves living hidden lives.
Sawyer Holt thought he was dead at the age of sixteen when his brother Leon caught him kissing a human man. Dragged up in front of his Alpha, he could only hope for a painless end, especially when Rick Brown stared at him with an icy gaze and said to Leon, “I’ll take care of it.” Except what Rick gave Sawyer wasn’t death, but a new concealed life.
In Minot, North Dakota, Sawyer has spent fourteen years isolated among humans, carving out a future for himself. Until a messenger arrives from Rick, saying that Leon has discovered the ruse, and it’s time to run again. Sawyer’s furious about losing his hard-won life, but intrigued by the young man carrying the message.
James Ferguson doesn’t appreciate being sent from his home and pack in Virginia to run errands for the Chicago Alpha, but as Twelfth out of twelve adult wolves, he’s in no position to complain. He figures he’ll deliver the message and package, and hurry home for Thanksgiving. But a snowstorm, and the huge, muscular, confusing werewolf who rescues him, upend his plans. Soon, James’s whole world changes, and the only future he may have depends on whether he and Sawyer can survive being hunted, together.
Unseen Past is a prequel novel set in the world of the Hidden Wolves, twenty years before Book 1.
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Publisher: Independently Published
Editors:
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 4
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 18-25
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Big Character / Little Character, Coming Out / Closeted, First Time, Forbidden Love, Trapped Together
Word Count: 72000
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters
Who is this man, and why’s he here?
The guy wasn’t up to speaking for himself, so Sawyer had no qualms about digging into the pocket of the pair of designer slacks he’d removed and pulling out a leather wallet.
James Ferguson. Virginia driver’s license with a Norfolk address. Age listed as twenty, which was probably true. Wolves didn’t usually start shedding years off their ID until their fifties or sixties. The eyes staring at him out of that crappy license photo were pale gray. Huh.
READ MORESawyer sorted through the other contents of the wallet, but nothing leaped out in explanation. Some cash, a credit card, a library card, a photo of a stern-looking man and a preteen boy who looked a lot like this guy. Maybe James as a child, maybe a younger brother or cousin— Sawyer fought down a pang at the thought of family. In the end, werewolves have pack, not family, and they can lose everything in an instant to pack rules and customs.
The other pockets yielded tissues, elastic bands, a nail file, and two sets of keys, one of them for a Ford car or truck. Probably how he got out here. I’ll have to look for it later. Sawyer threw a quick glance at the window, where the falling snow had only thickened since they’d stumbled across the threshold. Much later.
Setting his finds, especially the keys, high out of reach on a top shelf, he stared down at the unconscious man. If the guy’d been hit on the head and needed any care more complicated than rest and warmth, he was shit out of luck. Still, wolves were tough. If they didn’t die right away, they usually healed. Sawyer knelt and ran his hands through the wet, black hair, feeling the man’s scalp. As his fingers brushed a slight roughness in the skin, the man’s eyes snapped open.
Gray. Yeah. For an instant, their gazes met and held. The man took a sharp breath, which Sawyer echoed.
Then the stranger scrambled to get off the couch, naked long legs and arms flailing inelegantly. Sawyer could’ve pinned him in place, but he could read fear in the man’s posture and scent. Sawyer rose and backed off, hands raised, palms out. “Hey, chill out. You’re fine. James, right?”
“Who’re you?” James’s voice came out deeper than Sawyer expected, with a hint of Southern drawl.
Still baritone to Sawyer’s bass, of course. “This is my cabin.” For the week, anyhow. “I get to ask the questions.”
“I’m naked on your couch. The hell you do!” That angry flash of gray eyes was a good effort, but Sawyer figured he could put James in his place with one hand tied behind his back.
Sawyer narrowed his gaze. “What was that, pup?”
James scrambled to his feet, put his hands on his hips, then hissed in pain. “Ouch, dern it, my fingers.” He swayed on his feet. “And toes.” Shaking his hands gingerly, he eyed Sawyer. “I’m not a pup. I’m a full pack member. Are you…” He glanced around the small cabin. “Are you a lone wolf? Are you Sawyer Holt?”
COLLAPSE
