Wolfs prize, p.1
Wolf's Prize, page 1
Table of Contents
Books by K.E. Turner
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
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About the Author
Totally Bound Publishing books by K.E. Turner
The Wolves of Langeais
Wolf’s Keep
The Wolves of Langeais
WOLF’S PRIZE
K.E. TURNER
Wolf’s Prize
ISBN # 978-1-80250-894-9
©Copyright K.E. Turner 2024
Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright May 2024
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2024 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.
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 authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
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”.
Book two in the
Wolves of Langeais series
She’s not supposed to exist. Finding her changes everything.
Kathryn Beauchene has spent most of her life in the shadows. As a daughter of a minor chevalier, she’s rarely the focus of the Langeais nobility. That changes when her wealthy and powerful cousin vanishes, and the Count of Anjou bestows on them his estate. He’s using her cousin’s wealth and unwed Kathryn as bait.
But Kathryn has a secret. One that haunts her nights and threatens everything she holds dear.
Three years ago, Aimon Proulx almost died. Becoming a werewolf has given him another chance at life and opened him up to a world he never knew existed. Now the pack who rescued him is under threat and he will do anything to save them.
When he catches the scent of a female werewolf, something they’d all believed extinct, he vows to protect her and keep her safe.
But Kathryn stands to lose more than her secret. Aimon fears their enemies aren’t the only thing Kathryn’s in danger from. With her burnished copper locks and fiery temper, she’s a temptation that’s hard to resist. She’s not safe. Not even from him.
Dedication
To my dad: My biggest and most devoted fan. You showed me what a real partnership should look like between a husband and his wife. You and Mum—60+ years of marriage and still going strong.
Acknowledgements
Once again, thank you to the wonderful team at Totally Bound Publishing who’ve helped me bring Aimon and Kathryn’s story out into the world. To my editor, Nicki Richards, who helps me get my head around where the commas are really supposed to go, and who makes sure I don’t embarrass myself by catching any grammar or plot errors. This book wouldn’t be the same without her input. To my cover designer, Erin Dameron-Hill for bringing to life my character and the lengths she had to go to making sure the armor fit the century I write about. As someone who has no clue how to make a decent cover, I am in awe of your ability. To my beta readers and fellow authors—Dani Mclean, D.D. Line and Victoria Brown, for your time, your advice, your ongoing support and your ‘tough love.’ I firmly believe my books are better for it. To my family for your ongoing and unflagging support. And to my hubby, Mark, who answers all my questions about men, even though sometimes he finds them a little embarrassing.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
When I encounter foreign words I do not know the meaning of in a book, it causes me to pause each time I see them in the text, taking me out of the story. Here is a brief list of foreign words and meanings I have used in this book.
Bretaigne: Britannia/Brittany/Britain
Archeveque: Archbishop
Amonier: Chaplain
Chevalier: Knight
Comte: Count
Comtesse: Countess
Demesne: Land attached to a manor
Eveque: Bishop
Franceis: Old French
L’enfer: hell
Ma belle renarde: My beautiful vixen
Ma dame: My lady
Mademoiselle: Miss
Merde: Shit/fuck
Mon Dieu: My God
Monsieur: Sir
Mon Seigneur: My Lord
Mon Seigneur Comte: My Lord Count
Sacre bleu: Damn it!
As Old French is, well, an old language, there are many variations. I’ve chosen the terms I think best apply. In some instances, when I’ve not been able to confirm a word or phrase in Old French, I have taken the liberty of using modern French.
Langeais Keep and Langeais are real places. However, they have been used in a fictitious manner. There isn’t, and has never thought to have been, an underground cell in the ruins of Langeais Keep. Oubliettes are now believed to have been used for storage, not prisoners, but the latter makes for a far more interesting story.
There were many comtes de Anjou over the centuries (none named Lothair that I am aware of, although Lothair was a popular name at the time). One of them, Comte Foulques de Noir, built Langeais Keep to guard the crossing point of the Loire River.
Comte Foulques de Noir, The Black Falcon, was notorious for his wars with other comtes—as were many comtes of that era. His power base was in Tours, and Langeais Keep, one of the first stone keeps built, was just one stronghold for him. An important one.
He did, however, dress his wife up in her wedding gown and burn her at the stake. She was also his cousin. They did things a little differently back then. Burning people at the stake was a popular way of ridding yourself of your enemies while making a statement to the masses at the same time. He wasn’t the only one to use such methods.
My Comte Lothair is a fictitious Comte de Anjou created from a compilation of many comtes of that era.
And, as much as there were myths and legends of the loup garou (werewolf) in medieval France, there are no documented instances of werewolves in 10th-century Langeais. In case you were wondering.
For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight,
and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
~ Oscar Wilde
Prologue
Langeais, Frankia (France)
Year 988
Twelve-year-old Kathryn Beauchene, red hair loose and in disarray, poked her freckled face out of the window to keep track of the woman in the green dress crossing the street.
Where is Aunt Elise going? To the stables? To the pond?
Kathryn would love to go to the pond. The sun shone, not a single cloud dotted the sky and warm air shimmered across the thatched roofs of the village. A swim would be just the thing.
Her aunt paused, casting a furtive glance up and down the lane, then darted past the stables. Kathryn’s eyes narrowed. How intriguing. She gripped the window ledge with impatient fingers, her body thrumming. If something exciting, some adventure were to happen
As she jiggled about, eager to be on the move, her keen gaze followed her aunt as she slipped down the lane beside the Cadieux’s residence, heading for the west gate.
Yes. She is going to the pond.
Kathryn abandoned the window, flung open her chamber door and raced down the corridor.
“Watch where you are going, child,” scolded a maid as Kathryn flew past her. “And where are your shoes? And your head-veil? It is unseemly for a young lady to be gallivanting about so.”
Kathryn laughed, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Oooh, child. Your father needs to take a firm hand to you. You have become wild. People will talk.”
Kathryn snorted. She pushed into the street, her bare feet dirty and a fresh rip in her dress from scaling a fence this morning. What other people thought of her was the last thing on Kathryn’s mind. She skipped past the Cadieux’s home, careful not to attract the attention of their beastly son, Jean-Luc, and exited the west gate, taking the path into the forest.
The breeze carried the scent of blossoming spring wildflowers and rustled the leaves in the trees as she picked her way along the grassy trail. Why would she want to stay inside all day learning how to embroider violets and roses? She would rather be out here, enjoying the sun and the fresh air.
Her bare feet made no sound on the damp, leafy undergrowth as she ducked off the path and into the trees. She knew of a perfect vantage point overlooking the pond, ideal for this situation—a large flat rock shrouded in sapling trees. Last summer, some of the older village boys had come down to the water to swim. Pressed flat against its rough surface, remaining unseen, she had spied on them as they had stripped off their clothes and frolicked in the cool water. She had never seen a boy naked before. The sight had thrilled her no end. They had not suspected a thing. Not once.
Careful not to make a sound, she slipped through the trees and clambered up the large, sloped rock above the pond. Her dress snagged, and she tugged at it, the material tearing.
Oh dear.
If only she had brothers. A pair of men’s breeches would be just the thing. She grimaced at her damaged dress. Brothers or no, she would never wear anything but a dress. Her father might view her dirty feet, her unkempt hair and a few tears in her skirts with amused forbearance, but for certain he would forbid her from wearing boys’ clothes.
She plastered herself against the rock and crawled to the edge.
“What are you doing here?”
Kathryn froze. The breeze ruffled her hair, and she cursed its bright color. It always caught her out.
“Why did you not come and visit upon me at my brother’s? Why all this secrecy?”
Kathryn expelled a silent sigh, slumping against the rock. Her aunt did not address her, rather someone else. She risked a peek over the rock’s lip and spied her aunt frowning at a man. A chevalier with armor like her father’s. Tall, in a dark fur-lined surcoat, the chevalier stood with his back to Kathryn and his sword belted to his waist, the large yellow-brown stone decorating its pommel bright in the sun. A nobleman.
She wriggled a little farther up the rock, trying to get a better view, and to see the face of the man below. A leafy branch obscured her vision, but she dared not move it, lest her aunt see or hear her.
“I needed to see you, Elise,” said the man. “Is that too much to ask? We were always so close, inseparable. Now I never have a moment alone with you. I have missed you. Missed us.”
His voice was tender, like that of a lover, or so Kathryn imagined. Who was this man? Was he handsome? Was it her aunt’s husband, Uncle Jacques? Kathryn could not picture Uncle Jacques speaking to anyone like that, not even his wife. He always seemed so stern and forbidding. Dark and brooding, her father called him, and she had to agree.
“I thought the message was from Jacques,” said her aunt. “That is why I came.”
Not Uncle Jacques? Then who? And why would her Uncle Jacques not simply come to the house if he wanted to see his wife?
Kathryn grinned. This is the best spot for spying.
The man growled. Growled. Like a real, live animal. Kathryn’s eyes widened.
Her aunt’s expression grew stern. “I should not be here with you alone. Jacques will find out, and he will be furious.”
Oh my, yes.
Even Kathryn knew how wrong it was for her aunt to be here, meeting a man in secret. A man other than her husband. The man stepped forward, raising his hand to touch her aunt’s face. Long, brown hair hid his features.
Kathryn clenched her fists. L’enfer! Who is this man?
Good thing her father, or the maids, could not censor her thoughts. They would scold her for cursing, for certain.
He brushed his hand against her aunt’s cheek. “Jacques need never know.”
Her aunt slapped the chevalier’s hand away and stepped back from him. “He would know, and you are making a presumption I want to be here. Alone. With you.”
The chevalier huffed. “Come now, Elise. You knew I sent the message. That is why you came. Why you snuck out of the house without your brother knowing. Do you not miss the time we had together? Before Jacques took you away from me? We grew up together, spent all our time together. We had a connection, you and I.”
With one large step toward her aunt, he swallowed the distance between them.
Kathryn’s hands clenched tighter.
Her aunt snorted. “We were children and we played in the meadow. All of us. Not only you and I. And we had fun, but I am a married woman now with two grown boys. Men.”
“All the more reason for it to be our time. You have done your duty. Provided Jacques with male heirs, and I have built up my fortune. It may not rival Jacques’, but you would want for naught, Elise. Now I can give you all you crave.”
From the shock on her aunt’s face, the man had misjudged the situation. And her aunt. He leaned closer, perhaps to kiss her, and her aunt’s expression darkened. Kathryn had seen that look on her aunt’s face before. The man was in imminent danger of getting a tongue lashing.
And I will witness it firsthand. How exciting!
Aunt Elise, with her red hair and fiery temper, brought an energy with her every time she visited, but this was a whole new level of interesting.
“I have caught the heated looks you send my way when you think Jacques cannot see,” said the chevalier. “You cannot possibly deny this heat between us. You have hungered for this, for us, as much as I have.”
Oh boy. Here it comes. Kathryn could not look away.
But Aunt Elise did something Kathryn did not expect. She laughed.
The man growled again.
A shiver ran up Kathryn’s spine. How did he make that noise with his throat? Could I learn how to do that? She could come back to this very spot, when the village boys were here again, and scare them silly with it. Let them think a wild animal lurked close by in the forest. She smothered a giggle, clamping her hand over her mouth just in time.
Unperturbed, Aunt Elise stood her ground. Respect for her aunt’s courage swelled in Kathryn’s chest. She would be terrified in her aunt’s place.
“I really do not know what I have done to give you the impression there is something between us. Yes, I care for you. You are one of my closest friends, but it is Jacques who I love, and Jacques I mated.” Her aunt reached out, rubbing the man’s arm in a comforting gesture. “One day you will find your mate and you will see what we share is naught more than a friendship.” She turned to leave.
With a snarl, the chevalier grabbed her shoulders, wrenching her aunt around to face him. “Do not turn your back on me. He may be a d’Louncrais, but Jacques does not get to have everything.”
“Let. Me. Go. If Jacques hears of this, he will punish you no matter how much your friendship means to him. Think about what you are risking.”
