“Christina Dodd has a knack for tense,
heart-pounding action.”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
PRAISE FOR CHRISTINA DODD’S
CHOSEN ONES NOVELS
Chains of Fire
“Unique—and edge-of-seat thrilling.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Exhilarating.”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
Chains of Ice
“High-stakes action and high-adrenaline adventure provide the literary fuel for the latest addictive addition to Dodd’s scorchingly sensual the Chosen Ones series.”
—Chicago Tribune
Storm of Shadows
“Something for everyone who enjoys paranormal romance.”
—Darque Reviews
“A riveting new series. . . . The action and romance are hot! I have no idea what is next in this series, but . . . the suspense is killing me.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Fabulous urban romantic fantasy . . . a stupendous thriller.”
—Midwest Book Review
Storm of Visions
“Taut, suspenseful. . . . Dodd has earned her place on the bestseller list.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Fast-paced . . . deliciously steamy.”—Darque Reviews
“Quirky, unusual, fun, tense, surprising, sexy, and wild!”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
FURTHER PRAISE FOR
CHRISTINA DODD’S NOVELS
Revenge at Bella Terra
“Christina Dodd is thrilling readers. . . . Her heroes are to die for.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Secrets of Bella Terra
“Sinfully good. . . . Ms. Dodd wows me.”
—Romance Junkies
“Grabbed me from the first few pages and never let go.”
—The Romance Dish
Taken by the Prince
“Delivers sensual sizzle.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Witty, adventurous, and unexpected.”
—Fresh Fiction
In Bed with the Duke
“A wonderful tale of love and intrigue . . . a story to be savored.”
—TwoLips Reviews
“An adventurous romantic fairy tale.”
—The Romance Dish
Into the Flame
“Once again Christina Dodd weaves her spell.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“[A] stunning tale.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Into the Shadow
“Another stellar book from a most talented author!”
—Romantic Times
“Sexy and . . . darkly appealing.”,
—Rendezvous
Thigh High
“A joy to experience!”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars, top pick)
“[C]harming and likable characters . . . an enjoyable read.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Christina Dodd is a master. . . . Thigh High is a winner.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Touch of Darkness
—Library Journal
“Enthralling, intense.”
—The State (Columbia, SC)
“Readers will be riveted until the final page.”
—A Romance Review
Scent of Darkness
“The first in a devilishly clever, scintillatingly sexy new paranormal series by Christina Dodd.”
—Chicago Tribune
“[A] fast-paced . . . paranormal with a full, engaging mythology.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A scintillating and superb novel!”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars, top pick)
Novels by Christina Dodd
The Fortune Hunter Series
Danger in a Red Dress
Thigh High
Tongue in Chic
Trouble in High Heels
In Bed with the Duke
Taken by the Prince
The Bella Terra Deception Series
Secrets of Bella Terra
Revenge at Bella Terra
Betrayal
The Darkness Chosen Series
Scent of Darkness
Touch of Darkness
Into the Shadow
Into the Flame
The Chosen Ones Series
Storm of Visions
Storm of Shadows
Chains of Ice
Chains of Fire
CHRISTINA DODD
WILDER
THE CHOSEN ONES
A SIGNET SELECT BOOK
SIGNET SELECT
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Copyright © Christina Dodd, 2012
Excerpt from Scent of Darkness copyright © Christina Dodd, 2007
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
SIGNET SELECT and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Leslie Gelbman, Kara Welsh, and Kerry Donovan, my appreciation for your support. Thanks to New American Library’s art department led by Anthony Ramondo. To Rick Pascocello, head of marketing, and the publicity department with my special people, Craig Burke and Jodi Rosoff, thank you. My thanks to the production department and a special thank-you to the spectacular Penguin sales department: Norman Lidofsky, Don Redpath, Sharon Gamboa, Don Rieck, and Trish Weyenberg. It’s been a great run—you all are the best!
Thank you to Roger Bell for critiquing Wilder. I hope Joyce would have approved of the story.
Thank you to my daughters,
Shannon and Arwen,
for making me watch Beauty and the Beast
so many times and i
n so many versions
that the story is imprinted on my heart.
Contents
Praise
Novels by Christina Dodd
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Excerpt from Scent of Darkness
Also by Christina Dodd
Chapter 1
Blythe, Washington
Present Day
Konstantine Wilder sat at the head of one of the long picnic tables located among the grapevines in a valley in the Cascade Mountains, the finest land jewel in all of Washington State, smiling with benevolent goodwill at the wealth of interesting friends and beloved relatives he had amassed in these United States of America.
Some knew who he was.
Some knew what he was.
Most were neighbors.
Some had traveled far to celebrate Independence Day with the Wilder family.
Sprinkled in among the crowd were people who wandered through town during the summer season, got invited to the annual celebration, and came for the food, companionship, and vodka.
Konstantine flattered himself that they had all made a good choice. The picnic invariably boasted warm, sunny weather—Zorana might have had a hand in that, but he thought it best never to ask—boisterous laughter, interesting conversation, and easy camaraderie.
Konstantine owned more than one kind of jewel.
He gazed at the diamond in his crown, his Zorana, his wife, bustling around the tables, ensuring that everyone abandoned their cares on this American day of national celebration. He gazed at his sons and his daughters and his grandsons and his granddaughters, overflowing with welcome as they moved among the guests with platters of food; they were his rubies and emeralds and pearls.
Zorana and the family they had made loved him, supported him, fought for him and with him.
Together he and Zorana and his offspring had saved the world.
Now their home nestled into the edges of the lush green conifer forest. Their tables groaned with traditional American dishes like hot dogs, as well as more international fare, like spaghetti and fajitas, and with traditional Ukrainian dishes like patychky, cabbage rolls, and potato varenyky. His grandsons grilled meat on barbecues, and heavenly smells wafted into the clear, warm summer air. Children’s voices shouted and sang as they climbed trees, swung on swings, clung to the playground merry-go-round. They fell, got up, and played again.
Life in these United States was good.
Every year on this day Konstantine affirmed that belief, loudly and with much vigor, in a speech that all respected and enjoyed, even his children and grandchildren. He could always see through the eye rolling and elbow nudges to the pride that they so carefully hid.
And now . . . it was time.
Placing his big hands on the table, he slowly hefted himself to his feet. He nodded at Jasha, at Rurik, at Adrik, at Douglas. His sons rose, vodka bottles in hand. Their wives rose with them, gathered the trays of shot glasses, and, as the boys filled them, all laughed and waited for the moment when they would pass out the glasses for the toast.
In the meantime, Zorana turned to face Konstantine, and the friends who knew what to expect focused their attention on him.
He grinned. “I remember when I had to shout to make you pay attention. Now I am old, and you listen out of respect.”
“You’ve been old for years, Konstantine.” The Catholic priest had never had any respect for Konstantine’s dignity.
That was all right. Father Ambrose knew Konstantine better than anyone (except Zorana), and he had always kept his mouth shut.
“I am not really old. Maybe ninety. Maybe a hundred.” Konstantine shrugged. “Who knows? In the Ukraine, where I come from, we don’t worry about formalities like birth dates.”
Uncertain laughter rippled through the crowd. They didn’t know whether he was serious.
He was. In his Ukrainian family, they didn’t celebrate birthdays.
They celebrated transformations.
“Some of you listen with respect. Some listen because I give you vodka.” He gestured to his daughter-in-law Karen, who delivered a shot to the priest.
Father Ambrose lifted his glass in salute and downed it, then took another.
Konstantine’s voice swelled. “On this Independence Day for the United States of America, I thank God for the country that welcomed Zorana and me and allowed us to build our home and bear our children in peace. They are all successful. They are all married now.” He patted his chest. “I take credit for that.”
“Oh, Papa.” Adrik, his third son, sighed.
“You wish to argue?” Konstantine demanded.
Adrik, the father to four children with his wife, Karen, shook his head. “No, Papa. I do not argue with the old wolf.”
“Good. You show wisdom at last.”
Laughter rippled over the crowd.
“Ah.” Konstantine nodded his understanding. “When you look at Adrik, you see a successful man who pays his taxes and speaks with authority on many subjects. I see the rebellious, snot-faced boy I raised. We both survived. So I am proud.” He opened his arms.
Adrik walked to his father. They hugged each other, kissed cheeks, as was traditional in their family, and both men had tears in their eyes.
They had almost lost each other, Konstantine and Adrik, and although most of these people did not realize it, their survival had been a close thing.
With a final pat, Adrik backed away. “Go on, Papa.”
Once again Konstantine commanded the crowd. “The Wilder land rests cradled in the best valley in the Cascade Mountains—not that I am prejudiced—”
More laughter.
“—near our most excellent town called Blythe. You ask, Why is my land the best?” He smiled benevolently. “Because the temperatures are mild in the winter and warm in the summer. I raise grapes, and my wife, Zorana, plants a garden every year. I tell her she is too old for such labor. She tells me to shut up and plow the ground for her. Of course, I do as I am told.”
“You show wisdom at last.” Zorana mocked him with his own words.
By now his guests were receiving their shots of vodka and rocking with laughter.
“To demonstrate to you how fruitful our land is . . . my four sons and their wives have given Zorana and me seventeen grandchildren, and in the last year we have been blessed with not one, not two, but
five great-grandchildren.” Konstantine beamed and lifted five fingers. “And we have two more on the way.”
A burst of applause.
“All are sons. We Wilders . . . we always have sons. Sons are good. They are hellions as they grow, but eventually they bring their beautiful wives home to us, and they make more Wilder sons who run wild.” Konstantine remembered a time when his sons had been more than merely hellions—they had been shape-shifters, bound to the devil in a pact that had stretched back a thousand years. His sons, his daughters-in-law, he, and Zorana had broken that pact.
Sometimes, even now, he missed the ability to change into a wolf. But for the sake of his soul, he gladly paid the price.
Konstantine grew serious. Very serious. “Zorana and I are proud, for all our children are healthy. All are well. Except . . . in the past few years, evil has spread tentacles far and wide throughout the world, and the battle for peace has begun.”
The crowd grew quiet, respectful, and some of them, who had traveled abroad, looked grim.
“At this time, we remember our oldest grandson, Aleksandr, who left us to go to college in New York City and then join the fight against evil. He has disappeared.” Konstantine’s voice quavered. “Almost three years he’s been gone.”
Zorana moved to stand beside Aleksandr’s mother, Firebird, and the two women hugged while Aleksandr’s father, Douglas, wrapped his arms around their shoulders. The rest of the family gathered close, too, protective of one another.
Konstantine’s voice grew in strength. “As long as we hear nothing about Aleksandr’s death, we have hope, and we ask that you keep hope alive as well.”
Nods all around. Murmurs of reassurance.
These guests were good people. They would hope for Aleksandr’s return, and they would pray.