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| Tragedy has driven James Macleod's human self deep inside his wolf. Can Jillian Descharme convince it to come out? Image licensed from Bigstock.com |
“Powerful and uplifting…”
—The
Romance Studio
Thirty years ago, James Macleod lost his wife
and unborn child to a killer bent on destroying the Changelings. Though he
longed for death, his animal instinct fought for survival and James has been a
wolf ever since. Yet now a woman has reawakened the man in him, taming wild
instincts but arousing still wilder needs.
With his ancient enemy hunting the legendary white wolf, James must
fight for new life, new hope, new love.
“An absolutely fantastic read.”
—Joyfully Reviewed
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| Personally, I really wanted a WOLF on the cover, but sometimes you have to go with what the Publisher wants. |
Note: Although it's a series, I designed each book to stand alone. So you won't get lost if you read them out of order.
The Changeling series centers around the Macleod family, four brothers and two sisters. Long-lived shapeshifters who can change at will, the Macleods seem to have the best of both worlds. But the wolf within has its own primal rules. If a Changeling's life is in danger, the wolf will emerge to defend it. It will also rise to the surface, unbidden, to defend a mate at all costs. Because Changelings mate for life!
This is the trailer I made for the series:
"Harper’s changelings are among the best in the genre."
—RT Book Reviews
PROLOGUE
Tendrils of smoke
rose ghostly white against the night sky like escaping spirits. Two days had
passed and the house had collapsed to one side in a heap of charred beams and
ash. No human could have survived such devastation.
James Macleod was
not human.
Far beneath the
blackened beams, he lay burned, bleeding, and broken. Close to death but as yet
unable to embrace it. Now and then, he broke the surface of unconsciousness,
only to be dragged under again by relentless agony and despair.
The waning moon hid
its face as James opened his eyes at last. For a fleeting moment he thought he
was blind, then realized night had fallen, although which night it was he had
no idea and didn’t care. He was still alive
– barely – and
didn’t care about that either. His broken ribs screamed at him as he began to
cough up more blood and soot, but this time oblivion stubbornly refused to take
him back.
Evelyn. He
couldn’t see her beneath the debris, but he could just reach her delicate
fingertips. They were cold and unyielding. He felt again the slash of agony in
his heart that was far greater than the pain in his body. She had been human.
Vulnerable, both she and the child within her, his child. He had failed
them both, failed to protect them, failed even to discern any danger to them.
He had been moving the cattle to summer pasture in the deep coulees along the
river when a calf blundered into the fast-moving water. Saving the young animal
and regrouping the herd had set him back an hour, then two. Just two scant
hours in which all that was dear to him was left defenseless.
He'd known at once.
James had barely turned his truck for home when cold terror suddenly clawed his
heart and his wife's voice echoed briefly in his mind. Gunning the old pickup,
he'd kept it on the rough dirt road by sheer force of will. Faster, faster,
heedless of the rugged terrain. He had to get home, had to reach her.
When an axle broke, James left the crippled truck and raced flat out, first on
two legs, then on four.
The house had been strangely dark when he reached the
yard. Evelyn always left a light on for
him. Always. And then he had spotted the smoke churning from an upstairs
window. He caught no stranger’s scent as he ran into the burning house, as he
shifted shape and shouted for his wife. He had smelled blood, however, mixed
with the thickening smoke. He followed the metallic tang of it straight to the
dining room, knowing and not wanting to know that it was her blood. And that
there was far too much of it. Dear God. James had squeezed his eyes shut
against the ugly gunshot wounds that had stolen her life even as he cradled her
small body against him. She was gone. Their child within her, already loved,
was gone as well.
It was his fault,
all his fault, although James had no idea who had done this. Few people could
even find his ranch. It was remote, all but hidden, with the nearest neighbor
miles away. He knew no enemies in this country, yet in his shattered heart he
also knew it was no random act that had taken his loved ones from him. He
should have known better. He should have known. His family’s entire sept
of Clan Macleod had been forced to leave Scotland more than two centuries
earlier, when fear of Changelings caused all wolves to be slaughtered to
extinction there. Why had he thought it would be better here, safer now? Why
had he assumed humans were any more civilized now, any less driven by fear and
hatred of those who were different? But then there had been Evelyn, and she was
wholly, completely human. Evelyn, who embodied all that was good about
humanity, who knew what he was and accepted him, who loved him with a heart
that was bigger than she was. Evelyn who had just paid for that love with her
all-too-human life.
Already half-mad
with pain and grief, his own human side wanted nothing more than to follow his
loved ones. Changelings were long-lived and tough, gifted and powerful. But
they were not immortal. And not immune to bullets even if they weren’t silver.
Evelyn’s killer had still been in the house, waiting for James, and James
hadn’t known. Perhaps he hadn’t cared then either. The last thing he saw was
his whole world in his arms – then nothing.
Left for dead.
Now, his Changeling nature was automatically trying to heal the horrendous
wounds, weakly attempting to regenerate burned skin and tendon, repair and
replace broken bone. But with so much damage and so little energy left, the
process was winding down before it had really begun. Soon it would stop
altogether and he would get his wish.
For one clear moment
that wish coalesced in his mind – a soul-deep desire for death. James embraced
it without reservation, forgetting that his inner wolf was driven by a powerful
and primitive instinct to survive. Without warning, fresh agony suddenly
slammed into him from every direction. His heart was being squeezed through his
ribs, his very bones felt as if they were exploding. The animal within had gone
completely wild. Unbidden, it frantically clawed its way to the surface.
Dark clouds diffused
the moon, hid the massive wolf that crawled out from under the charred
wreckage, veiled the singed white fur in shadow. Sides heaving, the creature
limped on three legs to the edge of the clearing and collapsed. James lay there
for a long time and regarded the wreckage. Fists of sorrow beat inside him, but
his lupine eyes could not weep. Instead, a cry of anguish was ripped from his
throat, gaining in strength as it sliced through the silence. It rose and
became an ululating howl echoing over the ruins of his home, his heart, his
life.
As he howled out his
grief, the sky cleared. The moon was far from full but still it blanketed him
with pale silvery light, lent him its peculiar strength that only Changelings
knew. James stood. So his wolf nature wanted to survive? Then it could damn
well do it without him. He would set it free and never walk upright again.
The wind picked up.
Although only three legs would obey him, the white wolf began to run. Run, to
outpace the agony that could rip and tear a human heart. Run, to outdistance
the human grief that could not be borne. Run, to be as the moon, a swift white
shape gleaming in the night. Run, to be a wolf and only a wolf.
As he raced away
into the welcoming arms of the night, James was only fleetingly aware that he
had just buried his human self alongside Evelyn. And then he was aware of
nothing.
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