he knew he didn’t have to. His shifted form would take care of matters nicely.
A gunshot in the distance alerted him. He judged it a few miles off. This time of day, most hunters were packing it in and heading home.
No time to waste.
Bending forward and narrowing his focus inward, Beck began to shift. His human skin stretched and prickled as fur grew in the pores and his bones lengthened. Claws grew out from his paws, and his hind legs formed into the powerful werewolf’s legs. His maw grew long, and ears twisted into long, furred beacons that picked up every movement and sound from mouse to fox, to...hunter.
Beck’s werewolf rose to an imposing height, sniffed the air and homed onto the scent of human.
* * *
Daisy kept the hunters in view, while hoping to stay out of their line of sight. She wore a vivid orange hunter’s vest over her winter coat. She’d no plans to shift tonight—not with armed hunters in the forest. But she certainly didn’t want to be so incognito that she invited a bullet.
Her camera wasn’t the best at taking night shots. And now as she leaned against the base of an oak tree, fumbling with the settings, she wished she did have something more high-powered. She’d never win the internship by handing in grainy night shots.
Thinking it would have been awesome to have someone along to keep her company on this cold dark evening, her mind drifted to Beck’s sweet smile and those entrancing blue eyes.
So maybe she was getting her flirt on with him. Felt kind of awesome.
He hadn’t called her today. She didn’t know what his number was. She thought he might have stopped by. Her father must have put fear in the handsome wolf.
Daisy decided if Beck never showed again, then that meant he wasn’t deserving of her interest. Only a wolf who dared defy her father would be worthy of her time. At least, that was the romantic version she played in her head. In reality, she knew Beck was better off staying away from her and avoiding Kai’s wrath.
Too bad. Beck’s hasty confession to loving her because she had a talent with hot chocolate had won her over. The way to a man’s heart was through food. And she wasn’t beyond utilizing such tactics. But as well, his kiss was not to be overlooked. If she never felt his kiss again, the world might never again be as bright. Heck, she’d seen fireworks during that kiss. It didn’t get any better than that.
She knew where his shop was. Nothing was stopping her from driving over to see him. “No,” she muttered. “He needs to come to me.”
A gunshot alerted her, and she whipped her head around, along with the camera. Set at its highest zoom, she peered through the lens and spotted movement. She’d turned the flash off.
There were two of them. Hunters. She saw the shotguns they held. Not aimed at anything because the wooden stocks were slung against their shoulders. And they were running for their lives.
Tilting the camera to the right, she caught a blur of white tracking through the birch trunks in the hunters’ wake.
“The ghost wolf.” Daisy tracked the blur, snapping shots repeatedly.
The frightened mortals ran within a hundred feet of her. She recognized the hunter in the lead. He had bright red hair and was known in town simply as Red, a Scottish farmer transplanted from his country to Minnesota through love and marriage. She didn’t recognize the man behind him, but he yelled for Red to hurry and get to the truck.
Then she scented the wolf. It was angry and feral, and so close she could hear its breathing. Steady, not taxed, and punctuated with vicious growls. Shaped like a werewolf, she estimated it grew two feet taller than even her father when he was shifted. It was indeed white, but a sort of filmy white, perhaps even transparent.
Remembering her mission, Daisy clicked a rapid succession of shots. When the hunters exited the forest and slammed the truck doors, the wolf paused at the tree line. It smashed out its fists to the sides, cracking the tall birch trunks, and howled. It was like no wolf howl Daisy had ever heard. The haunting noise climbed up her spine and prickled under her skin. She shivered, and sank down against the tree trunk in fear.
Her camera hand dropping to the snowy forest floor, she cast her gaze upward as the white werewolf stalked toward her.
The truck peeled away on the icy country road, its back end fishtailing until the chainless tires achieved traction.
And Daisy wished she had hitched a ride with the idiot hunters as she looked up into the ghost wolf’s red eyes.
Werewolf eyes always glowed golden when shifted. Daisy had never seen the likes of these before. This wolf’s eyes were redder than a vampire’s feast.
She swore under her breath. The camera slipped out of her hand and slid across the slippery snowpack. The werewolf must recognize her scent as wolf—she hoped. But was it even the same breed as she? It was like her, and yet not. Bigger and bulkier, its shoulders and biceps curved forward in impossible musculature and ended with talons coiled into fists.
And its coloring was surreal, not of this realm. Glowy and pale, but not see-through, as she had guessed. Iridescent. From Faery? Only Faery things glowed as this wolf did. Or maybe a god such as Fenrir? Couldn’t be. According to the legend she had researched, that god had been chained until the end of time.
Its white leathery nostrils flaring, the wolf scented her, then whipped its head back and reared from her. Growling low in warning, the wolf stepped back and stretched out its arms. Emitting a long and rangy howl, it sent shivers throughout Daisy’s body. She clutched her arms across her chest and tucked her head.
With a stomp of its massive foot, the ghost wolf took off into the forest, leaving its tracks imprinted deep in the snow near her feet.
Daisy breathed out. “Holy shit, that was close.”
Holding a shaking hand before her, she assessed her heartbeat. Ready to bust out from her ribs. She shook her head. She’d take her father’s wrath over another meeting with the ghost wolf any day.
And then she checked her fear. The wolf hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t even moved to touch her. For all she knew, it could be of her breed.
“I can’t be afraid,” she said. “Only girls cry.”
* * *
By the time she arrived back in town, Daisy’s heartbeat had settled. The fear had segued to an adventurous exhilaration during her walk. She’d stood face-to-face with the ghost wolf! Her brothers would be stunned.
With adrenaline tracing her veins, she wasn’t content to go home and crawl into bed. Instead, she headed toward the west end of town where she knew Red lived. She marched up to the front door, passing the truck that hissed out steam from beneath the hood. Seeing a light on inside, she knocked.
Red answered immediately, frowned, then looked over her shoulder. As if she should have brought along an entourage?
“You it?” he asked.
“Uh, I’m Daisy Saint-Pierre, Mister Red. I heard about you seeing the ghost
