by Linda Palmer
Had I imagined the singing? My wolf ears perked up, shifting the snow a little, but not enough to uncover me and reveal my hiding place. Someone was definitely giving the woods a sunrise concert with a Jason Mraz cover, “I Won’t Give Up,” and he wasn’t half bad. In fact, he was dang good. He was also getting closer. Survival instinct kicked in. I actually began gnawing at my own paw in a frantic bid for freedom even though I was still fairly well hidden.
Could the sensible girl stuck inside the lupine body calm her panicky wolf? And what was with the whole stuck scenario? I could surely shift into my human form by now. But then the mystery vocalist would see a naked girl with her wrist caught in an animal trap. I’d never find the release on the steel jaws before he spotted me, assuming I could even open the thing, that is. This guy was practically on top of me.
“Oomph!”
Something heavy fell across the mound of snow that was my cover. Yeah, the singer. I growled. He yelled and scrambled away, not stopping until he was on his butt in the snow with his back plastered against an oak tree. That put him about ten feet from me. Both of us were in plain view now and staring each other down. I saw that he had short brown hair, a barely shaved chin, and gorgeous brown eyes. Judging from the long legs stretched out before him, he was on the tall side. His navy pea coat reminded me of my dad, who had one just like it. A camera dangled from a wide strap around his neck.
“Holy freakin’ crap!” The guy panted, but not with fear. I’d have smelled it. No, he was more psyched than anything else. I guessed he’d never been face to face with a wolf before.
I growled again to make sure he stayed right where he was.
“Easy now. Didn’t mean to step on you.” His gaze narrowed. “Uh-oh. Is that a���” He crawled forward on all fours, careful not to get too close as he made out the shape of the trap under the snow. “Shit. You’re caught. I’ll bet it was that redneck Pickett. I told him this land was posted.” He edged forward a few more inches, but still out of biting range. “You’re bleeding. God, I hope nothing’s broken.” He shook his head. “What an asshole. I knew all those deer heads on his walls were a bad sign.”
Clearly I didn’t need to fear this guy. In fact, he’d probably set me free, but only if I could convince him I wouldn’t bite. I ducked my head and whimpered, a pitiful sound even to my own ears. He couldn’t have looked more shocked.
“You need help all right. What kind of trap is this, anyway?” He closed the gap between us by another couple of inches, trying to examine the steel snare. When that didn’t help, he got a stick and used it to sweep snow aside. “I’ll bet that’s the release.”
I whimpered again and cowed some more, earnestly trying to encourage him.
“Maybe if I do this���” With his gaze glued to mine, he carefully slid one hand toward the trap. I held my breath, not daring to move since I was pretty sure he’d wig out if I did. By the time his hand reached the metal disk that would free me, he was so close I could smell his aftershave. He checked out the mechanism and then slammed it against the frozen ground with his fist; the cruel jaws sprang open; we jerked away from each other.
My injured leg throbbed, but I knew it was time to move on. When I put weight on that paw, however, I almost went down. It had to be broken to hurt that bad. Just had to be.
Hearing the unmistakable ching-click of a digital camera, I glanced in surprise at the guy who’d just freed me. He was on his feet, but squatting down several feet away, taking photos, one after the other. Why he wanted shots of a she-wolf in pain, I had no idea. I looked straight at him and deliberately whimpered yet again, my only way of saying, A little more help, please?
He slowly lowered the camera, his expression incredulous. “You talkin’ to me?” As far as Robert De Nero impressions went, this one sucked, and he clearly knew it. At any rate, he laughed at himself.
Dude, I can’t walk. I whined, putting my heart and soul into it this time.
His smile vanished. “Oh my God. You are talking to me.”
I could almost see the wheels of conjecture beginning to turn inside his head. For at least a minute, he just stared at me. Then he lowered the camera. “I must be out of my ever lovin’ mind.”
Encouraged, I belly-crawled toward him, whining pitifully.
“Shit, shit, shit.” He gulped audibly. “Mom, Dad, I love you guys. Uncle Greger, sorry about the cabin. I know you thought Pops was leaving it and the land to you. Marten, Isak, Bo���maybe we’ll get along better in the afterlife.” His gaze clashed with mine again. He stood. “Do not bite me.”
As if I would. But he didn’t know that, which made him the bravest guy I’d ever met. He also had the biggest heart. If I’d been Bronte-girl, I’d have melted in a puddle of goo at his feet. A couple of years ago, anyway. I was past that kind of foolishness now.
Strong arms suddenly scooped me up. I licked his hand as a thank you. In response, he snorted a laugh of disbelief and set off through the woods. I felt so bad for him. Werewolves tended to be larger than normal wolves, and though I was a female on the smallish side, I was still heavier than a Lab or German shepherd, either of which would’ve been bad enough. Our senses were keener, too. Having recently researched wolves online, I knew that some breeds of dogs could actually out track non-magical wolves. But if any dog were matched against one of us, the werewolf would win hands down.
“You’re one lucky wolf, you know that?” Huff. Huff.
Yeah, though obviously fit, my savior was already winded. I knew his biceps were surely stinging and hoped he wasn’t going to go far.
“I’ve never walked this stretch of woods before. Don’t know why I did today.” Huff. Huff. He suddenly laughed, a dry sound. “Erik Thorne, what the hell are you doing? Sure, you always wanted to be a naturalist, but really?” He hefted me up a little. “You play guitar and sing, period. What are you going to do with this wolf when you get her to the cabin?”
Oddly enough, his monologue soothed me. Maybe I’d learn something about him, I thought, resting my snout on his biceps.
Erik snorted again. “Gilda’s never gonna believe this.” Huff. Huff.
Gilda? Who’s Gilda? Girlfriend? Wife? The thought of him being spoken for disconcerted me for some reason. As far as looks went, Erik seemed a little young to be married, but I’d never been a good judge of things like that. He could be any age from seventeen to twenty-five. All I knew for sure is that he was Bronte-girl’s type, physically speaking. Gilda, huh? Did she live with him? How would she feel about her guy bringing home an injured animal?
“Wonder if I should call a game warden or something.” Huff. Huff.
Oh no. Not that. Never that.
“Do they put down wild animals with broken bones?”
Put down? As in��� Gulp. Murder? I squirmed to jump free and attempt a run for it.
Erik somehow tightened his hold on me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. No one’s putting you to sleep, okay?” The guy suddenly braked. He glanced down, thoroughly breathless now and a little weirded out from the look of him. “Can you understand what I’m saying?” Huff. Huff.
Oh how I wanted to nod. But I’d just sworn to protect the secrets of the preternatural world, which put any kind of answer in the category of a very risky move. So I did nothing.
He chuckled with honest humor as he once again got a better grip on me. “Wow. I’m not only talking to a wolf, I’m waiting for a freakin’ answer. Clearly living alone is taking its toll.”
So Gilda didn’t share a roof with him. Good. I might have a chance after all.
Have a chance? Oh. My. God. And he thought he’d lost it.
Erik abruptly stumbled and went down on one knee, almost dropping his heavy load. He eased me to the snow and then sat nearby, undoubtedly to catch his breath while he freed his boot from the ice-coated vine that had snagged it. I wished I could offer encouragement or thank him. Since I couldn’t, I did the only thing I could do—rest my chin on his leg.
The wonder on
his face touched me deeply. For several minutes we just sat there, a guy and his wolf. Then Erik stood and picked me up again. “Almost there, girlfriend.”
Girlfriend? Now we’re talking!
He hadn’t lied. In another fifteen minutes we topped a rise, giving me the first glimpse of his home. It was a cabin straight from the movies, with a front porch, rock chimney, and mortar between the logs. I fell in love with it on sight. Erik quickly covered the distance to his house and climbed the three steps to his front door. He bent his knees slightly so he could reach the knob and turn it, walked inside, and carefully deposited me on a braided rug in front of a fireplace emanating delicious warmth.
Whew.
“Whew! No offense, but you’re one heavy load.”
Just what a weight-conscious girl wanted to hear, right? Refusing to be insulted, I rested my chin on my uninjured leg and waited. What was he going to do now?
“Gilda, you aren’t going to believe this.”
Huh? I raised my head, scanning the room for her before I realized Erik had walked over to a glass fishbowl with water, natural pebbles, and a plastic plant in it. He opened a small container and took a pinch of something out of it. Sprinkling what must’ve been fish food over the water, he said, “We’ve got ourselves a wolf.”
The goldfish inside swam from side-to-side, splashing like crazy and clearly responding to him. Well, who could blame her? I was halfway in love with the guy, too, and we’d known each other what���? Two hours? Three? I guessed why, of course. Unlike the black-hearted man who’d enslaved me for over a year, Erik’s heart matched his fish’s scales: pure gold.
He turned to face me. “Guess I’d better check that leg.”
Though I wasn’t looking forward to that, I knew he had to. So I lay very still when he dropped to his knees beside me and tentatively reached for my paw. After examining it for a couple of seconds, he stood and walked to the kitchen side of the area, which was a combination living room-kitchen-dining room. The fridge and stove, both white, looked pretty old. The sink, also white, wasn’t divided. I noticed there were clean dishes stacked in a plastic drainer to the left of it. Above them was one of several cabinets. Erik opened it and took out a first aid kit. Then he dampened part of a kitchen towel. He soon used the wet end to clean my wound and the other end to dry it, all with gentle moves that hurt like heck anyway.
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s broken. There’s no bone sticking through, anyway. But I’m no vet. Can you move it?”
I so wanted to try, but I let him do all the manipulation, instead, a tender try in all directions. He was right. It clearly wasn’t broken, just bruised up like the rest of me. Yeah, I was definitely feeling the aftereffects of my wild tumble down the mountain. Erik cleaned the injured flesh with antiseptic that burned like crazy, apologizing all the while. He next applied some antibiotic ointment and then wrapped it in gauze, securing that with a neon green Band-Aid of all things.
“Hungry? Thirsty?”
Both. Got a cola? Peanut butter?
He sat on his heels. “What do wolves eat, I wonder? I’ve got some raw hamburger���”
Ew.
“But that’s for my supper. How about a hotdog?”
Anything that’s not raw, and would you get a move on? Starving she-wolf here.
Erik filled a bowl with water that I gratefully lapped while he rummaged in his fridge for the hotdogs. I ate four, and though I’d have preferred grill marks on them, they were absolutely delish. When I swallowed the last bite, Erik washed his hands and just looked at me for a few seconds.
“I need to get some more shots of this snow while I’ve got the morning sun. The tourists eat up cards with winter scenes on them.”
Cards? What kind of cards? I must’ve tilted my head as confused animals will.
At any rate, Erik walked over and petted me. “You have to be somebody’s lost pet. A mixed breed, I’ll bet, with a smidgen of wolf in you.”
Excuse me? Did you really say mixed breed? I was a purebred from cold nose to fluffy silver tail.
Erik glanced around as if looking for something before realizing his camera was still suspended from its strap around his neck. With a wry laugh and a shake of his head, he started toward the door only to pause and check his watch. “It’s almost noon. I’ll be back at dark-thirty.” A moment later, he left, shutting the door behind him.
Finally. Though I’d experienced an incredible sense of freedom every time I’d shifted so far, I was now way past tired of being lupine. So I gratefully focused on the trapped girl inside. Once again that white hot energy pulsed through my veins. I began to morph, more conscious than ever of the miracle that was me.
“Oh thank God.” Naked and dirty, I moved my head from side to side to knock out the kinks in my neck. “Ow!” Whiplash? Probably. That had been one wicked ride down the ravine. I raised my arms and stretched to the ceiling before slowly bending down to touch my toes. Damn, but it felt good to stand on two legs, even if they were hurting. I checked out my injury, pulling back the gauze now wrapped too tightly around my wrist. Yikes. That was a cut. I probably needed stitches or at least some tape to hold the jagged edges of skin together. But not before I borrowed Erik’s shower. Assuming he had one.
I quickly took stock of my surroundings. The bare walls were made of the flat side of the logs on the outside and had white chinking between each, giving them a striped look. I saw exposed rafters and beams, a rustic wooden floor, some throw rugs, and matching curtains. The place had a cozy feel I loved.
I felt of my hair, which was a nasty mess—damp with leaves and probably muddy. My nude body looked muddy, too. Or were those dark spots bruises? Oh God. They were. No wonder I felt like I’d been run over by an army tank. Yeah, a hot shower was definitely in order. But first I wanted something else to eat.
Just as I turned toward the fridge, the front door swung open. Erik stomped into the cabin, freezing when his gaze landed on naked me. I screamed. He yelped. I darted behind a corduroy recliner a couple of yards away.
“Oh my God���oh my God���oh my God���” That was me.
“What the hell?” That was Erik, now wide eyed and staggering against his kitchen table. His knees buckled just as he got to a chair. He sort of dropped into it, almost missing. “Who the heck are you, and where’s my dog?” He pointed toward the rug on which I’d lain.
“I’m a wolf, not a dog, idiot. And I’m definitely not yours.”
Chapter Three
Erik shook his head as if to clear it, his gaze glued to me. “Look, lady. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re trespassing, and you need to leave. Now.”
I immediately back pedaled. “Don’t be pissed, okay? I know how this must look. My name is Bronte Hannigan. I’m a—” I caught myself. What I said now might mean the difference between staying and going. I really needed to stay. “I’m a shapeshifter.”
Erik’s jaw dropped.
I straightened a little, testing to see if the chair I’d chosen as cover would hide my C cups if I didn’t bend my knees, which had begun to ache. Deciding it hid enough of them, I gratefully repositioned myself. The color of Erik’s eyes went from milk chocolate to dark. Or was that my imagination?
Now I was doing the head clearing. “I know this sounds completely crazy—”
“You have no idea.”
“But I do! Honest. The thing is, I’m a descendent of an Irish Goddess named Danu. We can shift from human into animal, in my case the wolf you rescued this morning. Thanks for that, by the way. I didn’t know how I was going to free myself.” I pasted a smile on my face.
He didn’t smile back.
“I swear I’m telling you the truth.”
“Sure you are.”
“No, really. I am. Think about it. The wolf is gone; I’m here. What else could possibly have happened?”
Erik snorted a laugh.
“Think, Erik. Please.”
His face paled even more. “How
do you know my name?”
“You said it when you were bringing me here. And I know that you’re a photographer, too—”
He glanced down at his camera. “Good call.”
“—and your fish is named Gilda. Oh, and you have an uncle named Greger.”
Erik stood and began to sidle toward the kitchen. “Now you’re freaking me out.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? And I’m as freaked at you, okay? I’m also freezing my ass off. I don’t suppose you have some clothes I could borrow until I get my bag out of that log���”
He yanked open a drawer and pulled out a butcher knife.
I huffed my exasperation. “Oh, great. You’re going to stab me now? Like I’m not in enough pain already.” I held up my right arm, the one with the neon green bandage cutting into my wrist.
He sucked in a shocked breath. “Oh God.”
“Exactly.”
Erik’s gaze swept me. “Are those���bruises?”
I automatically looked where he looked and realized I’d moved a little to the left, which meant more of naked me was showing than I realized—hopefully none of the good parts. I scooted back in place. “Wrecked my truck last night.”
His gaze now clashed with mine. “Are you okay?”
Finally. The guy with the heart of gold had regained control. “Sore. As in all over. And warmer now, thanks to you. So I’ll mend, I guess. Can’t say that about the truck, though.”
Erik began to pace the cabin as if he’d suddenly forgotten me, talking with his hands one second and then pressing them to his temples the next. “Holy shit. The books and movies have it right. Gods, goddesses, and shapeshifters exist, and if they do—” He stopped, his gaze on the window that looked out towards the encroaching woods. “What the heck else does?”
