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    Wolf Hall
    Wolf Hall
    Wolf Hall
    Ebook76 pages1 hour

    Wolf Hall

    By Harper Fox

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Halloween is a wild, weird night in the lonely moorland towns of the north. It’s dark and cold, and cracks can open up in the fabric of the safest world.

    Davey Bell has been trying to live safely. He’s struggled through a rough adolescence and has a decent job, a home of his own. He agrees to a meeting with his ex, even though Burdo got him into so much trouble in the past.

    But Burdo has plans, armed robbery amongst them. When Davey recoils from his efforts at blackmail, Burdo swears he’ll track him down. There’s something inhuman about Burdo’s rage, and Davey panics and runs from him. The town is small, the darkness beyond it absolute. Davey has lived there all his life, but he takes a wrong turn on the moorland road and is suddenly lost.

    It’s the first night of winter, and set to freeze hard. Not much chance of survival for a man without shelter, a man on the run from his past... Then Davey stumbles into the forest, and his fears of Burdo and the cold dissolve to nothing at the sound of deep, bestial growls.

    The moon is full. Ancient moorland legends are coming to life in its silvery radiance. Out of the woodland steps a strange young man, and the snarling beasts fall back. He’s offering sanctuary, but at what price? He’s the most beautiful creature Davey has ever seen. If Davey follows him in fascination through the gateway of Wolf Hall, what secrets will unfold before the dawn?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarper Fox
    Release dateOct 30, 2014
    ISBN9781910224120
    Wolf Hall
    Author

    Harper Fox

    Harper Fox is the author of many critically acclaimed M/M Romance novels, including Stonewall Book Award-nominated Scrap Metal and Brothers Of The Wild North Sea, Publishers Weekly Best Book 2013. Her novels and novellas are powerfully sensual, with a dynamic of strongly developed characters finding love and a forever future – after an appropriate degree of turmoil. She loves to show the romance implicit in everyday life, and she writes a sharp action scene too.

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      Book preview

      Wolf Hall - Harper Fox

      Wolf Hall

      Harper Fox

      Copyright Harper Fox 2014

      Published by FoxTales at Smashwords

      Wolf Hall

      Copyright © October 2014 by Harper Fox

      Cover art by Harper Fox

      Cover photo licensed through iStock

      All rights reserved

      No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from FoxTales.

      FoxTales

      www.harperfox.net

      harperfox777@yahoo.co.uk

      This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Epilogue

      Wolf Hall

      Harper Fox

      Dedicated to my sister Wendy

      with thanks and love for her unconditional acceptance

      and pride in what I do.

      Chapter One

      As soon as David pushed the café door open, he knew he’d made a mistake. Having a bad-ass boyfriend as a teenager had been a lot of fun, a poke at his boring parents and his grim little ex-mining town. Meeting up again two years later, on Halloween of all nights... He shivered, closing the door behind him before the wind could snatch it out of his hand. He stood enclosed in bitter air for one long moment, then met Burdo’s eyes and set off towards the table.

      His full name was John Burdon. Burdons had peopled the County Durham hills for centuries—farmed them, mined them, even counted a few town mayors among their number. All things eventually went to hell around here, though, it seemed. Burdo pointed to the plastic bench seat opposite him, and David sat down.

      You look all right, Davey-boy.

      Better than when Burdo had last seen him, anyhow. He’d come straight from work tonight, but his work required him to be smart, and he’d recently been able to afford a long warm winter coat, a bit like Captain Jack’s off Torchwood. Thanks, he said. The café was lit in sick pink neon. He tried to think of anything at all both nice and true he could say to Burdo in return. You used to be gorgeous... No, that probably wasn’t the way to go. He swallowed hard, knotting his hands on the table.

      Burdo burst into a harsh laugh. Divven’t bother, bonny lad. I can look in a mirror just like anybody else. He raised a meaty fist and snapped his fingers at the girl behind the counter, who looked disgusted but came over with her notepad. Coffee and a steak and onion pie. Hot chocolate and a doughnut for the bairn.

      There was diabetes in David’s family. He’d learned not to eat like that. Also to repress his accent for the sake of the tourists, and he couldn’t bear the thought of his own little educated voice correcting Burdo, so he shut up. Right, Burdo went on. You can tell me how two years did this to you, and then I might answer your question.

      I didn’t ask one.

      Yeah, you did. Talk, then I’ll tell you what the fuck happened to me. How’s Mam and Dad Bell?

      Suddenly David missed them both with a pain so sharp it brought tears to his eyes. They hadn’t been bothered one way or the other that their son was gay. Their indifference had pissed him off—he’d kicked harder still to find their point of resistance. They’d both loathed John Burdon. They’re dead. David watched with relief while Burdo failed to fake shock or sympathy. Probably he’d known already. They left the house to my sister, so I had to get off my arse and look after myself. I got a job in Stonehope.

      "Ooh, Stonehope."

      David flinched at the effort of mimicry. He’d pronounced it local style—Stonnup—but that wasn’t enough. He wanted to put his head into his hands. There were five or six remote towns strung out along the moorland road around here. They all had relied on mining—tin, lead, coal. All had collapsed when the industry had. Some, like this one, the one containing David’s home, his school, his past, the café, John Burdon and himself, had stayed down. A couple had grabbed at the ladders of tourism, arts and crafts, and scrambled back to some kind of functionality. Even David could see that there was more dignity in defeat. The losers lay among their windswept mineheads and eerie pyramids of overgrown slag. The others projected a kind of desperate brightness, stared collectively down the road for the next coach party. I work in the visitor centre, he told Burdo flatly. I like it. I’m in charge of the geology displays. I know about the rocks because of everything my dad taught me.

      Aye, I remember. Bored shitless by it all, you were.

      David flinched. He grabbed at the hot chocolate and gulped down a mouthful to counteract the sour taste in his throat. Dad, can we not go home now? I’m cold. They’re just lumps of stone. It’s not like they won’t be here when we get back. I’m not bored now. The kids come and want to know all about it. Smarter kids than me. I like my job.

      That’s twice you’ve told me now.

      So what?

      So nothing. Just tells me how much you’d like to keep it.

      David set his mug down. He did it very carefully, smoothing out the spasm in his arm that would have led to a slam and a spill. One corner of Burdo’s mouth quirked, a sure-fire signal that David had a foam moustache.

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