by Michele Hauf
But would she tell him if he was lacking now? What if he couldn’t match the intensity she had known when bonding with his werewolf?
Her father had called right before they’d sat down to eat tonight. Daisy said Malakai wanted to talk to Beck. Of course her brothers had told her father that Beck had sacrificed his wolf. And he was sure one of them had mentioned that they’d bonded, as well.
Beck was pretty sure Malakai’s offer regarding marrying Daisy and joining the pack would now be reneged.
He’d face that trial tomorrow at noon, when Kai had requested they meet.
High noon. Seriously?
Daisy hugged him from behind and kissed his ear. He reached back, grasping her hair and letting it slip through his fingers as she pulled away and took the dinner plate to the sink.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked over her shoulder.
That he wasn’t going to like being human. At all. And that he hadn’t scented her approach from behind, as he usually could. Hadn’t gotten a whiff of her sweet candy smell until she’d been right there, kissing him.
“It’s the talk with my dad,” she decided. Turning, she leaned across the counter and took one of his hands. “It’s going to be good.”
“Is it? Can you honestly love a human, Daisy? I’m not sure I can deal with myself like this. I’m...nothing now.”
“Don’t say that. You are the man I like. Werewolf, human or otherwise.”
“Says the faery who has suddenly developed a penchant for walking around the house naked.”
“I haven’t heard an argument from you yet.” She stood back and fluffed the ruffle of the apron she’d tied over her bare body while making supper. It just covered her nipples and had distracted Beck so much that he had leaned over to kiss the plump side of her breast more than once during supper. “It’s like I’m inside a whole new skin, and it wants to feel the world on it. I want to feel you on my skin.” She winked.
How could a man bemoan his condition when his reality offered up a naked faery who loved him, cooked for him and wanted to have sex all the time?
A knock at the door startled Daisy upright. “I wonder who that could be?”
“Whoever it is, they are not going to see you like that.” He jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “Go put some clothes on.”
She spun around the counter, kissed him and skipped off toward his bedroom.
Beck rose and inhaled deeply. He couldn’t get a scent of who stood behind the door. Hell, he could barely smell the burning wood in the hearthfire.
Normally, by scenting out the unseen, he’d be able to sense danger. Or a simple visitor. Gripping the doorknob, he looked aside for a weapon. Wasn’t so easy as slashing out a claw in defense now. He hadn’t lost his strength, but—hell.
Beck swung the door open to find Denton Marx standing on the threshold, his hands cupped before him. He blew into his hands and rubbed them together. “It is wicked cold in this godforsaken century, do you know that?”
“I thought you’d be gone by now. The eighteenth century?”
“Seventeenth, actually. Might I be invited in, please?”
Beck stepped aside to allow the man in. He brought in a wave of cold that sent a wicked shiver through Beck’s body. He quickly closed the door.
Daisy popped back in, clad in one of his flannel shirts and some tight black leggings. Her smile dropped at the sight of Denton. “What do you want now?”
“I have brought something for Beckett,” Denton said.
“Where is your lover?” Daisy asked. “Didn’t the spell work?”
The hunter bowed his head and clasped his hands before him. “I have not completed the allbeast spell. I have not all the ingredients. Rather.” He met Beck’s gaze. “I have them, but I don’t wish to utilize them. I must find a replacement.”
“For what?” Daisy asked. She joined Beck’s side, her hand slipping into his.
“For this.” Denton tucked a hand inside his jacket and brought out the glass jar that sparkled with Daisy’s werewolf essence.
“Is that...?”
“It is, my lady. I combined all the ingredients, and was prepared to uncork and add in the werewolf essence you so graciously offered to me when I felt her looking over my shoulder.”
“Sencha?”
Denton nodded.
“I don’t understand,” Beck said.
“It was the first time we were able to communicate, of a sort, over the dimensions. She swept her hand toward this jar and shook her head. ‘Not that one’ is what I’m sure she was trying to convey to me. So.” Denton offered the jar to Daisy. “I know you have no use for it, as I understand your condition was that you could either keep one or the other.”
“Exactly,” Daisy said, crossing her arms.
The hunter took Daisy’s hand and placed the jar on her palm. He wrapped her fingers about the glass. “I thought you might make it a gift to your lover. If you so choose.”
Daisy’s bright smile beamed up at Beck.
“Wait.” Beck couldn’t help but feel elation at the idea of actually getting his werewolf back, but he wasn’t stupid. “How can that work? It’s not my werewolf in that glass jar.”
“It is the essence of werewolf. When it once resided in your lovely Daisy Blu’s body, her soul made the essence her own. Spinning about in this jar, it is but an essence waiting to be claimed and shaped by yet another soul. You can make it your own, Beckett.”
“How do you know this?” Beck asked.
“I have learned much from Sencha and the study of her grimoires. If you doubt me, you have but to try it. If it fails, you have lost nothing. If it is successful...” The man’s eyes glinted with promise.
Daisy held the jar up between her and Beck. He touched the glass, and inside, the sparkling essence reacted with a swirl.
“I will leave you two in peace,” Denton said.
“Wait.” Beck marched to the door, stopping the man with his hand on the knob. “You still need a werewolf essence to complete your spell.”
“That I do.” Marx did not meet his gaze. And if he had been werewolf at that moment, Beck felt sure he would have detected the sadness that crept about the man’s heart. And the resolve that would push him to kill another wolf. “I have heard about a wolf that has been tearing cattle to shreds farther up north toward the boundary waters.”
“Gray wolves don’t tear cattle to shreds,” Daisy commented.
“Exactly,” Denton said. “Not unless it’s sickly and an entire pack goes after it. These were healthy beef cattle. Farmers report finding only one set of overlarge wolf tracks. A werewolf like that might not be missed, eh?”
Beck lifted his chin, looking down on the man, who still dared not meet his gaze. He had tormented his family. Killed his father. And now he had offered Beck a second chance.
Stepping aside, he made room for the man to open the door and leave. He watched the hunter march down the drive. Daisy’s hand slipped into his. And he heard his mother’s voice in his head. It was the right thing to do.
Beck called out to the retreating hunter.
Denton turned. Waited.
The pounding of his heartbeat thundered in Beck’s ears. His father’s last breaths—he would never forget them. Yet at that moment he wished only to move forward.
“I forgive you,” he called. “Go in peace.”
Marx clasped his hands over his heart, bowed his head, then turned and got in his vehicle. Only when the headlights had receded did Beck turn to catch Daisy in his arms.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Lighter. I feel...lighter.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“He’s out of our lives now.”
She pressed the glass jar into his hand. “To our future.”
Epilogue
Daisy didn’t get the internship at the Tangle Lake Tattler, despite her exposé on the ghost wolf, which included a photo of the white beast with a zoom on the zipper down its back. S
omeone had done an extensive investigation into the unclaimed mineral rights in the area and had won the prize.
Rocks had won over a man in a wolf suit? Go figure.
She’d stick to sculpting for now. Last week she and Beck had delivered the wolf sculpture to the Ely Wolf Sanctuary. And she’d received a commission for another work depicting a moose and using computer parts for the sculpture. It was a challenge she looked forward to.
Now the twosome stood in the spring-wet grass before Stephan Severo’s grave at the back of the family property. Hands clasped, they silently held vigil.
“Forgiveness feels right,” Beck said after a while. “I will never forget, but now I can move forward.”
“We can move forward,” Daisy said. “Will you tell me about the things you used to do with your father someday?”
“Yes. We can do one right now. Go for a run together. You want to?”
Daisy wiggled her shoulders and slipped off her shirt. Her wings unfurled beautifully. “Try and catch me, big boy.”
* * * * *
Watch for Stryke Saint-Pierre’s story next!
If you are interested in Michele Hauf’s world of Beautiful Creatures, check out her website:
michelehauf.com. You can also find her on
Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest.
To read about the other characters in this book, find the digital books online. Bella and Severo’s story is MOON KISSED, followed by
AFTER THE KISS.
THE DEVIL TO PAY is Ivan and Dez’s story.
RACING THE MOON is Sunday and Dean’s story.
HER VAMPIRE HUSBAND is Blu and Creed’s story.
MALAKAI is Malakai and Rissa’s story.
And THE DARK’S MISTRESS is Kambriel and Johnny’s story.
Keep reading for an excerpt from LYING WITH WOLVES by Cynthia Cooke.
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Chapter 1
As the first streaks of dawn lit the horizon, she ran. Her paws scraped along the fine red dust of the desert floor as she dashed through creosote bushes, snakeweed and prickly pear cacti, her nose filling with the honey scent of graythorn.
She paused, catching a different scent—the tangy musk of fear. Her sharp eyes scanned the area in the lingering darkness as she searched the desert floor for shadows, for movement, for something to chase. And there it was, frozen next to a sage bush, impossibly large ears twitching, its round eyes wide with fear. A jackrabbit.
She gave chase—the rabbit’s scent filling her nose, the rapid pounding of its small heart thumping in her ears. The rabbit jumped, launching itself at least ten feet, its long legs propelling it at impossibly fast speeds as it zigzagged through yucca and agave.
Exaltation urged Celia faster. She chased the little creature while the sun, cresting beyond the stark canyons, lit the sky in an explosion of color. Power pulsed through her body, with each step rejoicing in her freedom as she raced through the morning air. She wished she could run like this all day but knew it would be too risky here in the Arizona desert, where people rose with the sun.
Then she heard the sound she’d been so afraid would come.
Just a murmur at first, far in the distance, but then the sound grew louder. Closer.
Humans.
Warily she paused, letting the rabbit get away. Early-morning campers were up ahead in the canyon. She spun, racing away. Too late. Someone yelled a warning to the others. A commotion sounded. The parking lot was just ahead. Her legs, pumping hard, carried her quickly to her car. In the lightening sky, she deftly changed back to her human form, standing naked in the cool morning air until she could reach her clothes inside.
A wolf living among humans was a bad idea. And this was only one of the reasons why. Striking out on her own, leaving the safety of the Colony, was not going to be easy. But for her, freedom from the Colony was worth the price.
Freedom from seeing Malcolm every day, from hearing his voice or sensing him in the forest when she ran, knowing he’d be sleeping with her every night—a woman who would give him the control he so desperately craved. Freedom from that was worth any price she had to pay.
Even if she had to live each and every moment hiding her true self from humans and from the demons who were determined to hunt her down and kill her.
* * *
Celia Lawson’s nerves bunched as she gazed out the large picture window at the red rock mountains. It had been almost two weeks since she was able to transform, to stretch her legs and run. To feel the sweet night air against her face, to chase rabbits and run free. She was trapped in this shop of soaps, lotions and scented candles. Transforming here put her at risk of discovery. Humans were a concern, but the bigger threat were the Gauliacho. The demons in shadow form had hunted the shifters for a millennium. They wouldn’t overlook her.
She ran her finger across the large red crystal in front of her. The only protection she had from the demons were the crystals composed of dark energy that negated the shifter’s energy signature, effectively hiding them from the Gauliacho and the lost humans they possessed—the Abatu.
The irony wasn’t lost on Celia that even though she was free of the Colony, from Malcolm, by leaving the safety of the Colony’s borders, she was now trapped in a prison of the shop’s four walls, hiding behind the energy of the crystals. Energy only she as the Keeper of the crystals had the power to rejuvenate.
She looked longingly at the mountains one last time. She couldn’t take the chance, even if her skin felt as if it were on fire. She bounced up and down on her feet, anxiety growing within her by the minute. She had never gone this long without making the change to her natural state. Was it the need to run free that had her so wound up or something else?
Something coming.
Abatu? A lost human soul with no will of his own, who didn’t have the strength of character to keep the Gauliacho from latching on and hitching a ride. Abatu were rudderless and easily manipulated and gave the Gauliacho a physical form to track the shifters. To search them out and destroy them one by one. There were more of them around lately, almost as if they had her scent but couldn’t quite find her.
But as frightening as the Abatu could be, it was the Gauliacho themselves in their shadow form that struck terror into Celia’s heart. She’d dreamed about them as a child, their insidious whispering, the way they’d get inside her mind and stop her cold, turning her muscles to water.
Throngs of people crowded the busy Sedona Street. She should open the door and welcome them into Desert Winds. Thanks to her cousin’s recipes of organic soaps and lotions, they were doing a quick and steady business. And she would invite the shoppers in. She just needed...a minute. Pressure built inside her chest, squeezed her lungs and made it difficult to breathe. She needed to run, to escape the walls of the shop, if only for an hour.
Tonight, she promised herself, when the moon was high in the sky, she would drive deep into the desert where only the coyotes dared roam. She stretched her arms high above her head and turned her shoulders, left, then right until the bones in her back popped. It was times like this that she missed the redwood forests of home, the wide-open meadows and majestic peaks of the jagged, soaring mountains. But when she thought of home, a deep ache settled within her, a longing that twisted and pulled with a sharpness that shredded her insides. Longing for what should have been, and pain for what wasn’t.
Pain caused by Malcolm.
>
Malcolm. His name whispered across her mind, conjured eyes of forest-green and a smile that could melt the coldest ice-covered peaks that surrounded her home at the Colony. She pushed his image away. She would not think of him. She deserved better. Here in this red desert so far from the lush green forests of home was her chance to start over.
The tinkling of the Kokopelli chimes rang as her twin cousins, Ruby and Jade James, burst into the shop. Celia had come to Sedona specifically to find them. She’d grown up hearing about her crazy aunt who’d left the Colony to find adventure and had fallen in love with a human. Together they’d had twin baby girls. She wondered for years what her human cousins were like and if they would they make the change, too.
“You like them?” Ruby asked, pointing to the peacock feathers in her hair. “I loved your eagle feather so much I had to get a feather for myself. Not too many eagle feathers lying around on the ground here, though. But I thought this was real pretty.”
Celia smiled and ran her fingertips along the smooth feather twined in her hair. “My mother said this feather would be perfect for me, since I’ve always wanted to fly away from home and be free.”
Ruby laughed. “Really? I can’t imagine why. How beautiful your home in the mountains must be. You have to take me there sometime to see it. Plus, I’m dying to meet my aunt Jaya.”
“Absolutely,” Celia enthused, but she knew she wouldn’t. Humans were not allowed into the Colony. Not even if they were married to a shifter, or were a shifter’s offspring. Unless those offspring made the change. But with half-breeds, no one ever knew if they would or even when. Ruby and Jade hadn’t, and because their mother had died when they were so young, they were completely unaware that the possibility for them to transform into shifters even existed. Which, she supposed, was for the best.
But the reminder of her mother sent a pang of homesickness echoing through her. Celia wished she could see her again or even talk to her. But her mother refused to use modern contraptions, referring to them as the downfall of humanity. Celia sighed. Malcolm believed the exact opposite and filled the village with as many computers and telephones and televisions as he could.
