by Michele Hauf
“So we can be friends?” she asked.
His eyes traveled back and forth between hers. He smirked and tugged the end of one of her cap strings. “From you I need more than friends. If that’s okay.”
She nodded eagerly.
“Good, because I don’t kiss my friends. And don’t forget, I love you.” And he kissed her again, pulling her into the exhilaration of the unknown.
Beck pushed his hands through her hair, and her cap fell off and tumbled down her back. There beneath the tree-filtered moonlight, they kissed like tomorrow was to bring the end of days. And it felt exciting. Daring. Dangerous. She was kissing the ghost wolf! And he wanted to be more than just friends.
Daisy could deal with that. But she knew she had only brushed the surface of Beckett Severo. The man was complicated. And that didn’t begin to define the ghostly werewolf that he was able to shift into. She would learn him. But she’d be careful, and respectful of his need to guard his privacy and protect himself.
Honestly? She’d try hard to respect his barriers. But this touching, kissing and tasting one another was fast plundering all barriers.
“I want you to touch me,” she gasped as he licked her lower lip. “I’m wearing too many things.”
“I want to touch you, too. I want to put my hands all over your skin and read you with my touch.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
“See? I like to read, too,” he offered with a wink. “But not here in the woods with me sitting in a pile of wet slush. Want to come home with me? You can open your cover for me and let me do a little reading.”
“Keep talking.”
“Yeah, talk. We need to do that, too. I think talking should be at the top of the list.”
“Then let’s go.”
They stood, and Beck shoved his feet into his boots. Daisy handed him his sweater and coat, regretting his need to cover those awesome abs.
“Did you see which way the hunters went?” he asked.
“They ran out toward the east access road. I didn’t recognize them.” And she knew, as werewolf, he wouldn’t be able to recognize their faces while in human shape, but their scents he should know if he encountered them again. “Was it the one...?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
How weird was it that Beck had the ability to become the ghost wolf to stalk the very hunter responsible for his father’s death? Had he always been this way? Or had his father’s death changed him so drastically that he had literally become a monster?
“Did you check on the silver? You said you were going to do that.”
“Yes, the shell that killed my dad was handmade, laced with tiny glass pellets filled with liquid silver. I’ve never seen anything like it. It looked technologically advanced. Which means whoever killed my dad was purposely hunting werewolves.”
“That’s insane. You think a human knows about us?”
“Lots of humans know about the things they shouldn’t know, Daisy.” He grasped her hand. “Where did you park?”
“That way.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Should I follow you to your house?”
“Or I could bring you back to pick up your car later.”
“Good plan.”
And she didn’t want to let go of his big, wide hand. Not now that she’d gained some of his trust. And now that he was leading her to his home, where she would learn the truth about the ghost wolf.
* * *
Beck’s first thought as he drove toward home with the pink-haired faery wolf sitting beside him was a feeling of relief. Now she knew. Someone knew. He didn’t have to carry that burden alone anymore.
But he should. It was his burden. He’d asked for it. It could endanger anyone he got close to.
Yet his brain battled to keep the relief, along with the gratefulness that swept through him when Daisy clasped his hand and smiled quietly at him as they cruised down his street. He lived ten miles from where he’d been stalking the hunters. The land out here was selling too rapidly. He’d have to move soon if his neighbors got closer than the three-mile distance they were at now. He valued his peace and privacy. All wolves did.
Behind the house he’d built a few years ago, a four-acre pond had frozen over for the winter. The beavers were hibernating as well as the bears. He did not shift and hunt on his meager twelve acres. Because again, the neighbors were too close. And in this neck of the woods, seven out of ten humans owned guns and felt it was their right to shoot at anything they feared or didn’t understand.
Which was pretty much anything on four legs. Two legs, if it glowed.
Someday he’d move up north into the Boundary Waters, where a wolf had more freedom because the vast acreage offered privacy. But to move so far from his mother, especially now when she was so fragile, felt wrong.
“I like this area,” Daisy said. The truck’s headlights beamed across the thick woods that surrounded his house. “Quiet?”
“Very. You ice skate?”
“I, uh, yes?”
He chuckled at her reluctance. Parking, he swung around and raced to Daisy’s door. She’d opened it by the time he got there, but she did take his hand to get out of the truck. Baby steps, he decided, would endear him into her trust.
“You can skate on the pond behind my house,” he said. “It freezes thick. And I’m guessing you might be into hockey.”
“I am a pond hockey champion. There’s not a Saint-Pierre in the county who can beat me.”
“An accolade I’m sure your brothers keep to themselves, eh?”
“You know it.”
As they approached the house, a rabbit scurried across the snow cover, stitching tracks in the snow. Beck opened the door, and Daisy stopped inside on the rug and stomped the snow from her boots. He kicked his boots off beside hers.
“I’ll get a fire going.” He strolled into the living room and opened the hearth. A stack of wood he’d refilled this morning offered dry pine. He started a log on fire and closed the screen.
Daisy had shed her outerwear and stood in socks, tight gray leggings and a cozy purple sweater that looked two sizes too big for her, yet compelled Beck to pull her in for a snuggle.
“You always look like you need a cuddle,” he said. “You and your pink hair and soft clothes. And these lips.”
She turned up that raspberry sherbet mouth to him. “What was it you said about my lips?”
“They fit mine nicely.” He kissed her quickly, because his brain was beginning to spin again. Sure, he’d invited her here to make out. But he’d also invited her to talk. And the talk, while necessary, would take a lot out of him. “Hot chocolate?”
“You know the way to my heart.” She followed him into the kitchen and slid onto a bar stool.
Beck sorted through the cupboard, pulled out two small plastic cups and displayed them to her. “It’ll never rival your magical elixir. Just Keurig.”
“My brother Blade likes that coffee,” she said. “I didn’t know you could make hot chocolate with the machine.”
“I can make cider, too, if that floats your boat.”
“Chocolate, please.”
It took but minutes to warm up the coffeemaker and brew the first cup, then the second.
Daisy cast her gaze over the kitchen’s inner timber walls. “This house is cozy.”
The furnishings were all clear-stained timbers with bright, patchwork cushions. The coffee table had been hewn from a single oak trunk. The hardwood floors had been made from reclaimed redwood. All natural or recycled.
It truly felt like home to Beck. His father had loved to sprawl on the couch and listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd while Beck had worked on taking apart a carburetor in order to learn how it worked.
“It’s a home,” he offered. He slid a cup toward Daisy. “Give me your rating.”
She took a couple sips. “Not bad for powder. I’ll give it a six.”
“I’ll take the six. But that makes yours a twelve, hands down. Let’s go si
t on the couch.”
He put another log on the fire and joined Daisy, who had curled her legs up and settled onto the couch. She touched his cheek as he sat and turned her finger to show him the ash she’d wiped off his skin.
He rubbed a thumb over his cheek.
“Let me,” she said. Licking her thumb, she then rubbed his cheek until she pronounced, “Gone.” She leaned in, eyes closed, and scented him. “You smell so good.”
Beck’s skin tingled. It was difficult not to go straight to horny around her. Hell, why not?
Because they needed to talk. And talk would lead to trust. Trust was important before they could take this relationship further.
Setting her mug on the coffee table, Daisy then took his and set it aside. She climbed onto his lap and kissed him. Chocolate and winter, that was her flavor. She was sinuous and warm and so soft under his roaming hands. Beck glided his hands up her back and around to cup under her breasts. She didn’t balk at that touch, so he spread his fingers over the small curves. He wanted to lick them.
Too fast.
But he sensed if she moved a little bit closer, she’d feel his need because he now had an erection that wouldn’t stop.
Pressing his palms to her cheeks, he stopped her deep kiss. “We have to go slower,” he said. “Just until...”
“I get it. You’re the ghost wolf. I have a lot of questions.”
He nodded. “Hand me my mug.”
Chapter 10
An hour later they sat beside one another on the floor before the fire, their backs to the couch, their feet tangled together. Beck hadn’t let go of Daisy’s hand the whole time. She didn’t ever want him to let her go.
He’d explained it all. It was fantastical. And that was saying a lot, considering Daisy’s heritage. She thought she’d seen and heard it all.
In the immediate days following his father’s murder, a streak of revenge had coursed through Beck. And yet, he was not the sort to commit retaliatory violence. Sure, he sought the hunter who had killed his father. But to kill him? Never. There had to be a way to prevent him from killing other wolves. He’d wanted to instill fear into the hunter—all hunters—and perhaps even save a few gray wolves in the process.
But he hadn’t known how to do that. So he’d gone to a faery.
Faeries were not the first choice a person should go to for help. Daisy knew that too well. She’d grown up listening to her parents tell the tale of how they had met. How Malakai had been cursed by a malicious faery, and how her mother had been cursed as a leenan sidhe—a faery who fed on the vita of others until they literally died—because she’d broken off an affair with the Unseelie king, Malrick.
One should never dabble with faery magic without certain knowledge that it could never end well.
Daisy believed that Beck had not known what he was getting into when the faery had offered to give him supernatural ability to shift into something that would frighten mortal men.
“What did she ask in return?” she asked now that Beck had laid it all out.
“I’m not sure.”
Clasping his hand against her chest, she nuzzled her head against his shoulder. “Beck, faeries never give away their boons. There is always a return favor in exchange.”
“I know that. She wants a favor, but she didn’t specify. She doesn’t want repayment until I’ve accomplished my task.”
“Which is?”
He quieted and looked down at their clasped hands. “You know. I...wanted revenge for my father. A life for a life.”
“You said you couldn’t imagine killing another.”
“I can say that to you now. But in the days after my father’s death?”
She nodded. That he’d confessed such a thing was immense. Awful, but trusting. She wouldn’t question him for having murderous thoughts at a time when grief had surely overwhelmed.
“I did it when I was grieving,” he explained. “I could never harm another person. Even the man who killed my father. It would make me as evil as him.”
She kissed his knuckles and smoothed her thumb over his warm skin. That he was able to think like that now, with his father only dead a few months, was remarkable. She wagered whether any of her brothers would hold a death wish infinitely if someone took Malakai Saint-Pierre’s life.
“Will you ever forgive the hunter?”
“Forgive him?”
“Seems the thing to do to close the grieving process. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. And I have grieved. So let’s drop it, okay?”
“Sorry.” Who was she to suggest proper ways to grieve? Though she suspected Beck had not gone through the grieving process because his claim to have done so had been defensive.
“You didn’t seem right after you’d shifted to were form in the forest,” she said. “You stumbled.”
“Lately I’m totally racked after a shift. It’s weird. Usually I feel more alive and vital after a shift.”
“As you should.”
“Shifting to the ghost wolf drains me.”
“There’s always a price to pay for magic. Beck, what if continuing to shift to the ghost wolf kills you?”
“I’m fine, Daisy.” He pounded his chest with a fist. “Feel better than ever now that I’ve rested.”
“Exactly. You shouldn’t have to rest after shifting from werewolf. That’s not normal.”
Brushing off her concern, he stood, picked up the empty mugs and padded into the kitchen. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not exactly a normal werewolf, if you hadn’t already noticed.”
He’d tossed up an emotional barricade. But Daisy allowed it. She wanted to tender his trust with care. And really, she was no expert on compassion. She was most comfortable hanging with the men and practicing duels with Kelyn. Emotional support? That was out of her skill set. But even so, she wanted to be there for Beck because it didn’t seem like he had anyone else to confide in.
“So you’re going to keep scaring the hunters?” she called toward the kitchen.
He paused from placing the mugs in the dishwasher, glancing toward the window over the sink, darkened by the night. He didn’t answer her.
Daisy wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answer. Did he believe his own words that he could never kill? She prayed that he did. But that wasn’t the problem, was it? Maybe the ghost wolf had plans of its own?
“It’s almost midnight,” he offered, returning to stand over her. He gave her a hand, and she stood. “Probably should be getting you back to your car.”
She nodded. He’d hit a limit on sharing. She was cool with that.
“If I invite you over for supper again,” she asked, “will you stay for dessert?”
“I promise I will. I’m sorry for the quick escape the other day.”
“It’s cool. It’s gotta be kind of freaky dating me.”
“Because of the big bad wolf who is your dad?”
“I know you respect him. But you have to also understand if I don’t push back at my dad now, he may never let me go. I’m his only daughter. I’m sure it’s tough to see me in the arms of an unfamiliar wolf.”
“Who is not in a pack.”
“You don’t think you’ll ever join a pack?”
“Maybe I’ll start my own someday?”
She kissed him. “It doesn’t bother me that you’re a lone wolf. So don’t let my dad’s voice have any room in your head, okay?”
“Too many other voices in there right now as it is.” He handed her her coat, and she hung her snow pants over an arm. Didn’t need them for the ride home. As they strode outside to the truck, Beck said, “You promise you won’t tell anyone I’m the ghost wolf?”
She nodded. “But I still need to do the story for the competition. This is a chance for me to get a job, Beck.”
“Daisy.”
“You can’t understand what it would mean to me. My father believes I should never work. And I don’t have to, thanks to the investments he’s made in my na
me. But I’ll always feel tied to him, like I owe him. Do you see now what making my own money would mean to me?”
“Sure, but isn’t an internship an unpaid position?”
“Initially, but I plan to quickly prove my worth and earn a paying journalist position. Beck, I didn’t go to college. I have no real-world job skills. This is the best I can do.”
“So it’s got to be the ghost wolf?”
“I’ve put a lot of time into it already. I need to do it in a manner in which the humans won’t ever believe the wolf is a real, living creature. Maybe some figment drunk hunters are conjuring? Like Fenrir reimagined in their wildest nightmares?”
“That’s an interesting angle.”
“I promise no one will ever know it’s you.”
“Especially your family?”
“Deal.” She slid into the truck, and when Beck leaned up she bent to meet his kiss. He hadn’t pulled on a jacket. She pulled off a long strand of pink hair from his sweater.
He took it from her. “I’m fascinated about the faery in you. Promise you’ll tell me about that next time we meet?”
She nodded. “Tomorrow night. I’ll make steak.”
“Woman, you spoil me.”
“It’s all part of my devious plan.”
“To make me like you?”
She nodded and kissed him.
* * *
Dessert was chocolate cake drizzled with caramel. Beck ate all three pieces Daisy offered him. The mood felt much lighter this time around. He didn’t plan to suddenly bolt for the door. Spending time with Daisy did distract him if he allowed it. So he did.
“Leave the dishes,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the couch. “So how is your shop coming?” she asked as he sat beside her. “Didn’t you say you wanted to open it to the public?”
“For as many cars as I have to work on just by word of mouth, it’ll be another year before I can consider opening to the public. It’s nice work. Keeps me busy.”
“When you’re not chasing after hunters? How do you feel today? Still weak from the shift?”
“Nope, I’m at one hundred percent. It’s only immediately after the shift that I’m weak.”
“Well, I hope it doesn’t get worse. Do you want me to ask my mom about faery bargains? It worries me that you didn’t have to repay the faery who gave you this ability.”
