The Most Explosive Novel Since Fifty Shades of Grey

by BY LENA   Jan 17, 2023

In Jenika Snow’s Amazon Top 40 bestseller, Big Bad Wolf, a simple escape to a remote European village becomes a life-altering adventure for Mikalina. Hunted by Ren, a centuries-old Lycan, she is thrust into a thrilling chase that blurs the line between fear and fascination. This enthralling tale of an ordinary woman’s encounter with the supernatural has captivated readers worldwide, drawing them into a passionate saga where destiny, love, and an unyielding creature defy all odds to stake a claim.

Chapter 1 Mikalina

“You’re crazy.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Are you going through some kind of crisis?”

I closed my eyes as my parents’ words reverberated in my head. After a moment, I reopened them and stared out the little airplane window.

Apparently, quitting your sh*tty job to pack up and leave for an undetermined amount of time and flying across the ocean to first sightsee through another continent before settling in a tiny Eastern European village in the middle of nowhere was now what constituted someone being mentally unstable. At least in my parents’ eyes.

God, I hate the window seat, I thought ideally, bitching at no one yet feeling like the idiot my mother called me right before I left for the airport.

But when you do a spur of the moment thing like—oh, I don’t know—empty out your savings, quit your job, and fly across the world for a little adventure, beggars can’t be choosers.

I rubbed my eyes, dropped my hands to my lap, and saw the flight attendant start to come by. After calling her over, I gave an awkward smile to the person in the center seat, since I had to lean toward them in order to be heard.

“Can I get some booze?” Lord, yeah, I actually said that, asked it that way. “I-I mean, can I get a Bloody Mary?”

The flight attendant smiled and nodded before leaving. After giving my center seat neighbor another forced smile, which got me an equally tight—and very annoyed—grimace in return, I focused out the window again.

Before long, the flight attendant was coming back with my Bloody Mary. I didn’t even care for alcohol all that much, and didn’t like tomato juice either, but hell, since I was in the mind frame recently of doing things out of character, I just went with it.

First stop was landing in London. I planned on sightseeing for a couple of days before taking the Eurostar to Paris and checking out the catacombs. After that, a few more stops—Germany, Hungary, Poland. Then I’d end my little “vacation” as I headed east and settled on a tiny Romanian village nestled in the Carpathian Mountains.

Sounded pretty cut and dry to me, and despite trying to act like this was the best idea in the world… I was terrified.

I didn’t know the land. I didn’t know the language. And taking this trip was like throwing pudding against a tree and hoping it stuck.

But I’d been at a point in my life where everything else seemed lost. It felt as though I was running around in a circle, taking four left turns and always ending up at the same spot.

If all else failed and this trip turned out to be the worst idea ever, at least I’d have experienced a little more in life.

And that couldn’t be so wrong, right?

Chapter 2 Ren

My beast roamed within me, a terrifying creature that could claw a vehicle in half, take down any living thing that stood in its way, and gave me immense power.

I was a Lycan, one of the many supernatural creatures that inhabited the earth, my very existence known only to some. It was better—easier—to stay hidden, to not let humans know what I was. The weaker species feared too much, discriminated all, and were dangerous not only to themselves, but to anything they didn’t understand.

I stalked the thick Carpathian Montane Conifer Forest, the wilderness my home more than the castle in which I resided in my human form.

I built the castle centuries ago when I branched off from my family, started my own life, and started the lifelong search for my mate when I hit my adult years. To humans, I was nothing but a mere man—wealthy, isolated, reclusive… dangerous. That’s what villagers would say when they heard my name.

Ren Lupineov.

It was safer to let them think I was dangerous, that my arrogance afforded me an air of authority and aristocracy. Let them believe my wealth was passed down from ancestors. For if they ever found out I was a three-hundred-year-old Lycan shifter—able to shift into a horse-sized wolf—they’d hunt me down with torches and axes.

They wouldn’t succeed, of course. I could level anyone and anything that threatened me or mine.

Mine.

That lone word meant more than anything else… and not something I had for myself. And for the last three centuries, I’d been searching for my mate, hoping against all odds that my Lycan instincts would lead my Linked Mate—the one female who was born to be mine—to me.

I didn’t know her name. Didn’t know what she looked like, sounded like, or if she was even on this continent. But I searched these woods every night, went from village to village, town to city, hoping my Lycan Instinct would somehow scent my mate, that I’d smell her and feel that Link between a Lycan and his mate, that supernatural connection that only a shifter had with his female, tying us together forever.

I didn’t know if she was human, Lycan, vampire, or some other supernatural creature. I didn’t even know if she was born yet, or had passed.

I stilled and brought a hand to my beating heart, rubbing my chest as a sudden onset of pain slammed into me at the thought I’d lost her before I even found her. 

No, I didn’t let those thoughts consume me. I wouldn’t. I’d forever search for her. I’d forever stay positive that she was out there and I’d find her.

I stayed in my human form as I stalked the forest, my inner Lycan moving within me. The wolf tattoo that covered my entire back shifted along my skin, moved as the beast paced underneath. I didn’t shift very often anymore, didn’t allow the feral creature I housed to run wild. He was hard enough to control within me while I was a human, let alone when he had free reign of his surroundings.

And because he was snapping and snarling for our mate, it made him even more dangerous, destroying anything in his path. He was known to take our hundred-year-old oaks that stood in his way.

I curled my claws inward, the sharp points stabbing into my palms, drawing blood. Even though I was in my human form, I was still fearsome at a towering six-foot eight height, and three hundred pounds of solid muscle. But in my shifted Lycan form?

Nothing could match my strength and brutality.

My animal was front and center, moving right under the surface and showing itself. I knew my amber-colored eyes while I was a human changed to a glowing blue as he made himself known, trying to dominate.

Not today, you impatient bastard.

But still, the motherf***er pushed forward.

Fingernails as claws.

My body starting to become even taller, muscles becoming more pronounced with the need to shift.

Night vision perfect.

Canines unsheathing and descending.

Hearing and smelling even more accurate than any night predator.

I was the predator to predators.

I made my way closer to the village, finding myself drawn to the little Romanian town tonight for some reason.

The trees started to thin the closer I got, before opening up and showing Dobravina. I stood there and watched the villagers converse, shop, none of them having this eternal hole in their very being because they were missing the most important thing in the world to them.

Their other half. Their mate. The one person born to be theirs and theirs alone.

It made me jealous and angry, bitter and resentful. Humans may be one of the weakest species in the grand scheme of things, and I may be superior in strength, intelligence, and being a cunning hunter, but they had the only thing I wanted—love.

I wanted the love of my Linked Mate.

I tipped my head back and looked through the break in the trees at the sky. The full moon was coming, and it was coming fast. And when it did, I’d have no control over myself. Only my mate could ever calm me, could ever control the beast within me. It was her and her alone that held that power.

And for every full moon, the creature inside of me ripped and snarled, clawed its way out. And once it passed, once I was back in my human form and saw the destruction my Lycan wrought, that hole in my soul magnified all over again, and I yearned for my female even more.

I glanced at the village again, narrowing my eyes and getting even more pissed.

My Lycan snapped and growled, causing my human jealousy to grow tenfold as his rose as well. The tattoo on my back shifted and moved across the flesh, rising up slightly. I knew to the naked eye it would seem three dimensional. But my Lycan was pissed, as if he was telling me this was bullsh*t.

It was. It so f***ing is.

Chapter 3 Mikalina

Two weeks later

I felt like I’d lived a thousand lives in the last fourteen days. It was crazy and wild, unexpected and such a learning experience that for the hundredth time since deciding to take this trip, I didn’t regret it for one minute.

With my sightseeing behind me, I was finally in Romania, having taken a small aircraft to the tiniest airport I’d ever seen. Now, I was crammed into the smallest car known to man and going down an uneven and bumpy road, excited about the prospect of what this new journey held for me.

I couldn’t even describe the feeling that churned in me as I was taken closer to the little Romanian town of Dobravina. I’d never been there before, would have never even known about its existence if I hadn’t decided to do this trip. But as I looked at the map, I swore something pulled me toward it, telling me that was where I’d finally find my peace.

I reached out and braced my hand on the handle of the door to steady myself, and had one foot pressed down hard on the floorboard in an attempt to not roll around the interior of the tiny tin-can-sized car.

Over the last fourteen days, I’d done the whole sightseeing thing through Europe. Eating exotic foods. Saw strange new lands. My camera was full of those experiences, memories that I’d be able to keep forever, even when I went back to my dull life—whenever that may be. As it was, this trip was open-ended, something that probably wasn’t realistic, given the fact that I only had a certain amount of money to my name, but a reality I was going to try to make work.

Because I needed it, not only for my health, but for my sanity as well.

The little cottage I’d managed to rent had been found through a rental company. After contacting the owner, they told me there was the option of staying long term, and that they could discuss it when I got there.

Maybe I should’ve been more afraid of this whole situation, where I may have lost my damned mind. But there was something inside me, this flicker of light, this moment of feeling alive—hope—that told me this might very well be the best thing to happen to me.

This very well could be the exact thing I needed to reboot what was dead inside me.

We only lived once, right?

We only had a certain amount of days, a certain number of hours. A preordained amount of memories before the light in us was extinguished and we moved on to the next thing.

Whatever that was.

And I supposed I was just living that to the extreme, to the fullest, to experience all I could in the short number of years I had in this world.

The road evened out, and I was able to relax against the worn leather seat, my muscles aching from tensing during this trip. The driver was an older man with white hair, an unequally white thick beard, and eyebrows that looked like they were trying to crawl off his face because they were so bushy. His hands were curled around the cracked steering wheel, the skin tanned and worn, wrinkled and showing he’d no doubt done hard labor throughout his life.

He only said but a few words to me, and I had to wonder if it was because he didn’t speak much English or if he just wasn’t sociable. Either way, that was fine with me. I’d never been much for socializing anyway.

I looked out the window and stared at the thick line of trees that were passing us by in a blur. The radio he had on played some type of folk music, the volume turned down low, so I couldn’t make out the words. Not that I could understand anyway.

I didn’t speak Romanian. Although I did brush up on a few key terms before my trip, wanting to be respectful, so I could say thank you, please, and ask where the bathroom was. Things like that, although I just shook my head and once again felt like a complete lunatic for what I was doing.

The rental host, Andrei, had arranged the car ride—thank God for that, ‘cause I’d for sure be up sh*t creek—and I realized I was putting a lot of trust in a complete stranger, but when in Rome, and all that.

The driver started to say something, his words broken but clear enough I knew what he meant.

We’d be there shortly.

He pointed to the forest, but I couldn’t understand most of what he said. But I feel like I got the gist of it, as if he were… warning me? Maybe he was talking about wolves? Bears? Other wild animals that lurked in the dark, deep in the woods? A shiver wracked through me.

But I didn’t think too much about any of that. It wouldn’t do me any good. Instead, I shifted into the center seat and stared out the front window. I had my hands braced on the seat on either side of me, this car so old that the lack of seatbelts should’ve been horrifying, but instead, it transported me back to another time when people said “f*** you” to safety regulations.

The little town of Dobravina, Romania, came into view, and I actually sucked in a breath at how gorgeous the village was. Definitely transported back in time.

Nestled between the thick jut of trees that sprouted from the ground, it seemed quaint but mystical. When I’d been searching for places to stay, I knew I wanted to be somewhere east in Europe. I didn’t know why I felt that pull, but it had been there, incessant, and there was no swaying my decision.

Maybe it was my curiosity and fascination with folklore, vampires and werewolves, demons and all those mythical things. And although I knew they were just stories, the very idea of being at the heart of where some of those tales originated seemed wildly interesting to me.

And here I was. In Dobravina, Romania.

The roads seemed to be made of cobblestone, and what was so strange was I already felt so… at ease. It was weird and exhilarating, and for the first time since I decided to take this life-altering trip, I really felt like this was the very best idea.

The little car bumped along, and I braced one hand on the door and another on the roof so I didn’t crash against the top of the vehicle. After a minute, the driver slowed to a snail’s crawl, and I relaxed once more, looking at the little shops that lined either side of me, staring at the people walking up and down the sidewalks, bags in their hands, older women wearing what I assumed was traditional-style clothing for this area. The younger generation was in typical jeans and T-shirts, the kids laughing and shouting at each other as they chased one another.

It was only another five minutes before the car pulled up beside the tiny cottage-like house. And when I said cottage, I meant just that. This house could’ve been a prototype for some fairy tale set in the middle of an enchanted forest.

Although small and clearly aged, it looked quaint and comfortable. The pictures online hadn’t done it justice. Off to the side, I could see a garden, the tiny homes all around it holding the same charm.

After I paid the driver and thanked him, although I probably butchered the hell out of my translation, I stood there with my backpack slung over my shoulder and my duffel in my hand. I looked around, not sure if I should call the number that had been listed for the rental, but before I could think about it too much, a young man and an elderly woman came out the front door from the home directly beside the one I rented.

The young man lifted his hand and waved as he helped who I presumed must be his grandmother toward me.

“Mikalina?”

“Yes, but just Mika is fine.”

He inclined his head and smiled. “I’m Andrei.” His accent was thick and richly Eastern European. “This is my grandmother Mininya, although everyone calls her Mini. She’s the owner of the cottage and lives right next door. She doesn’t speak English, so I handle all the details of the rental, and the postings on the internet. You and I were communicating online.”

Despite his accent, his English was impeccable. I smiled and offered my hand. After we shook, he started speaking with his grandmother. Mini was speaking quickly in her native language, but her focus was eerily trained right on me the entire time. She eyed me with intelligent eyes, then said something in a tone that suggested whatever agreement she’d come to, that was that and nothing would sway her. She gestured toward the house.

“Shall we go inside and look around?” Andrei asked and smiled but didn’t give me a chance to respond as he led us toward the small house.

Mini started going on again, and he responded in an exasperated tone but nodded as if he knew he lost whatever fight was going on with the older woman.

“Is she okay? With this?” I tacked on that last bit, feeling as if maybe she didn’t approve of me.

He waved off my concern and shook his head. “She’s rambling on about nonsense. She’s very happy you’re here, I assure you.”

Once inside, I was shown around to the quaint, intimately confined space. The living room and kitchen were all one room with traditional folk accents throughout, bright colors and designs that made me feel like I was transported back in time. The bedroom was to the back, the bed tiny with a white lace bedspread. Andrei told me his grandmother wanted me to specifically know she quilted it when she was but fifteen years old.

Before I could comment on the beauty of it, she was speaking quickly again and pointing to things in the home, which Andrei translated just as fast.

The bathroom was small, the tub and toilet looking ancient. But it had hot running water, so I couldn’t complain.

Finally, they showed me the backyard, and I actually gasped at the beauty of it. The small garden I’d seen in the front yard was only the tip of the iceberg. The garden extended all the way to the rear, even coexisting into Mini’s yard. There were fruit trees and an array of vegetables, and sprinkled through all of this were beautifully colored flowers. It was quite a scene.

We made our way back to the front, where Mini started speaking again, her tone hard and unyielding. It was clear she got what she wanted, set in her ways, and I couldn’t fault her for that. I looked at Andrei when she was finished, expectant on what he’d say as he translated her words.

He nodded and relayed in Romanian before turning to me once more. “My grandmother wants me to ask if you’d join us for dinner tonight.” His accent was thick and his smile was friendly. “But don’t feel obligated. Your trip has been long, and she’d understand if you decline.”

Although looking at his grandmother told me she probably would take offense. I was tired, but I didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot, so to speak.

“Um,” I murmured as I looked between them. “Sure.” I returned the smile. I faced Mini and told her “thank you” in her native tongue. She gave me a hint of a smile, as if pleased I replied in her language. Although I was pretty sure I butchered it with my accent.

After they left, I made my way back inside the cottage, my bags by the front door where Andrei had set them when he led me inside. Then I just stood there and looked around. I had to call my mother and let her know I got here safely, our video chats happening every few days so she knew I was still alive. I’d have to see if there was a place in town, or in a larger town close by, that had Wi-Fi, since it was clear there was none in Dobravina.

Then I’d have to see how my finances were faring. I didn’t know how long I planned on staying here, but as I stood in the cottage—or more accurately, when I entered the village—I felt strangely… at home.

Comfortable and at ease in a foreign land.

I really had lost my mind.

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