The Becoming Trilogy Box Set (Books 1-3) by Jess Raven, Paula Black

Hell Fire
Club looming from the summit and the encroaching isolation, Connal figured
‘round about now would be when Ashling DeMorgan should be having serious doubts
about the sanity of her decision to follow him up to this place of occult myths
and shallow graves. Then again, he wasn't entirely certain the girl was sane,
and what she was about to witness probably wouldn't do much to help her
headcase status.
    He brought the old Cadillac
to an abrupt stop in a sun-dappled dirt clearing just at the edge of the woods.
She tentatively pulled up the Morris Minor alongside him. He killed the engine,
popped the door and sauntered over to the driver side of her car. One hand
thrust deep into the pocket of his jeans, he made a motion for her to roll down
the window with the other. She seemed to think about it for a moment, hands
clutching the wheel like she was debating flooring the gas and reversing the
hell out of Dodge, but her cat's curiosity won out and the glass barrier
between them dropped. The corners of his mouth turned up in a crooked grin.
    'Well, Miss Ashling DeMorgan.
We meet again. If I didn't know better, I might think you'd followed me.'
    ‘Ash,’ she started at the
sound of her name on his lips, even as she corrected it, but recovered enough
to inject a bit of annoyance into her words. ‘About time someone gave you a
taste of your own medicine, don’tcha think, Mister Connal?’
    Touché . She knew his name. That pleased him. ‘I already warned
you, Ash, this is a dangerous game you’re playing.’ Her hand reached for the
door but he got to it first, swinging it wide and stepping aside to give her
space to exit the car.
     

     
    She edged out, chin notched
up high, plastered as close to the paintwork as she could get without touching
him, despite his all gentlemanly actions. Tugging on the hem of her jacket, she
toyed with the zip, missing the security of her velvet. Sadly, her crimson coat
had taken as much a beating as she had. ‘You took something from my
grandmother’s house. Give it back.’
    He rocked back on his heels
and regarded her. ‘You know you’ve got nerves of steel to follow a guy like me
up into the woods and accuse me of thieving. Then again, you are DeMorgan’s
granddaughter. Ballbreaker is in your DNA,’ he smirked. ‘I wasn’t stealing from your grandmother. I work ... worked,
for Anann DeMorgan. And before you go calling the Guards, you might want to
take a look at what it is I’ve got in there.’
    Oh God ... this was the part
where she looked in the hearse and ended up being one of many dead bodies
dumped in the back. She eyed the door warily, discreetly trying to peer through
the window against the glare of the sun. She saw nothing but a mass of
something. ‘Tell me, then I’ll look. What’s in there?’
    Connal eased his ass back
against the side of the Minor and buried his hands in his pockets, kicking at
the dirt with the toe of his boot. He never took his eyes off her. ‘A wolf.’
    Ash scoffed. ‘Wolves have
been extinct in Ireland since the seventeen hundreds.’ She raised a sceptical
brow, her gaze judging the lines of his face like the truth would be written
there somewhere.
    ‘See for yourself.’ He simply
shrugged and leaned forward to pop the lock on the back doors of the hearse.
    ‘Shit.’ It was the only thing
that came to mind when the tarpaulin fell away from a furry flank. She’d been
half right. He did have a body in there. But it wasn’t human. Her eyes narrowed
in confusion, brow knitted as she lifted her gaze to his and backed off from
the door. A soft breeze lifted the blooming stench of death from the carcass
and she coughed, hand to her mouth holding down the gag that rose in her
throat. She would not hurl her cookies in front of this guy. She’d smelled
worse in her friend’s dorms. ‘But ...’ Ash tentatively pulled on the fallen
corner, trying to tip more of the sheeting away with minimal touching,
breathing in the fabric of her