Sheritta Bitikofer's Blog, page 14

Sneak Peek into Precedents (Loup-Garou Series Book Four)

I am so excited for the release of Precedents on January 17th, y’all can’t even imagine! I have been so eager to share this installment of Logan and Katey’s story for so long! Here’s a little sneak peek into chapter six because I can barely contain my excitement! Remember to preorder your copy so it gets delivered right to your reading device on release day! Follow THIS LINK to Amazon!

Ben almost immediately regretted his decision as he pulled into the parking lot of the fight club. The abandoned warehouse was packed with loups-garous and humans alike, men and some women, eager to watch the carnage and bloodshed. And blood had certainly been spilled on the property recently. The smell hit Ben as soon as he stepped out of his car.

He had only ever been to the fight club once and Ben knew he didn’t want to return. Why he volunteered himself to drag Logan’s sorry carcass back home was beyond his understanding. Perhaps it was the memory of their confrontation from earlier that day, or the way Katey had talked about Logan not being delighted about the idea of having twins.

Loups-garous, just like wolves, adored children and the promise of a continuing legacy. Also just like wolves, they needed to blow off steam every once and a while. Ben wondered if this was why Logan had ghosted on them.

The father-to-be should have been thrilled like the others, but Ben hadn’t gotten that impression since before that morning. Having one baby might have been all he could get excited about. Twice the babies didn’t mean twice the joy to him as it did to Darren or any of the others.

Maybe that was why Logan was here, slamming his fists around like a fool while Katey waited at home, working herself into a nervous fervor. He had promised her not to fight and Ben wasn’t about to let him go back on his word.

The inside of the warehouse had been modified from its original steel manufacturing purpose into something of a bar and fight club combined. The stench of stale beer, sweat, and piss whirled around Ben’s mind as he tried to orient himself amongst the throngs of undulating bodies.

Heavy rock blared over the speakers around the room, sending some of the occupants into a fit of convulsions that might have been an off-handed excuse for dancing. Patches of these punks were speckled all around, oblivious to the caged matches going on in the center of the expansive room.

Along one wall stretched a bar with bottles and tap stations behind it, the patrons of the club drinking their fill and reeling on the leather stools. Women, dressed in clothes suggesting their profession of choice, waited along the walls, calling and propositioning to men who were passing them by.

Ben ignored them all and shoved his way toward the ring. Inside, Logan had his hands full, beating in a man’s face who was nearly twice his size. Blood and snot slicked the floor of the ring beneath Logan’s feet.

When the bell pinged to announce the end of the fight, Logan threw the man down and walked away as the unconscious body of his opponent bounced against the mat. Cheers and chants erupted from the crowd and Ben was pushed aside as a man came through with a detestable cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth and a collection plate gripped between his eager hands. The pot was already brimming as the losing bets were slammed down with the others.

Attendants in black uniforms came into the ring and dragged away the victim as Logan paced around the perimeter, his eyes glaring and challenging as he scanned through the faces of the crowd. Women squealed and tried to reach over the barrier that was set up around the ring, begging to be touched by their favorite fighter. Angry men on the losing side shouted their insults while the bettors who supported Logan cheered for another round, another fight, another knock out.

Ben looked at the bandages around Logan’s fists, bright red from the blood of his adversaries. He shook his head, detesting the sport as a whole. Yes, there had been a time when he boxed in the army camps to get a little bit of extra cash or meat rations, but for Ben, there was a purpose behind the violence.

For Logan, it hadn’t always been about the money. There was a sense of pride and accomplishment when he left the fight club and came home with pockets full of his winnings. Ben had heard the conversation between Dustin and the young loup-garou one morning when he had been out all night. That’s how Ben knew the kind of satisfaction Logan received from these fights.

Sweat and speckles of blood glistened off his bare chest and the jeans he had been wearing that morning now sported tears at the knees, indicative that he had been fighting for more than a few hours.

Ben angled forward, squeezing between two fangirls, and ducked under the rope barrier to approach the cage. Logan turned, even before Ben had a chance to call out his name. An attendant hurried forward to take him away from the cage, but Logan waved him off.

Logan squatted at the edge and gripped the weaved metal of the cage to hold himself steady. Ben waited until the attendant was out of human earshot before speaking. “You need to come home. Now.”

The fighter ran his hand through his short, raven hair and shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he argued, glancing toward the crowd briefly.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone where you would be?” the omega demanded, feeling himself superior in character, rather than by pack rank. He wasn’t the fool on the other side of a cage, beating the brains out of stupid men who didn’t understand what he was. It wasn’t a fair and honorable fight by any means.

“Because I knew someone would try to talk me out of it.” Logan pointed toward the bar. “Do you know how much I’ve earned so far?”

“I don’t care.” Ben casually threaded his fingers through the cage to hang on as well.

“Over five thousand dollars, Ben.” A smile wavered on Logan’s tired face.

“I don’t care if you’ve earned over half a million,” Ben retorted. “You’re comin’ home. Katey’s worried about you. You haven’t skipped out on us in a long time.”

The corners of Logan’s lips dropped into a frown the moment Ben mentioned his mate. “You should have known I’d be fine.”

“How were we supposed to react? You’ve got a couple of babies on the way and you’ve retreated to this hell hole?”

Logan’s eyes were like daggers upon Ben now. “Those babies are exactly why I’m here.”

Ben thought of the whores for hire that stood against the walls and shook his head. “If this has somethin’ to do with regret or one last stab at freedom, you know that—”

A man came up and shoved Ben’s shoulder, but he refused to be moved.

“What the hell are you doing?” the guy asked, popping his gum in such a way that made Ben cringe. Out of all the sounds and smells in the room, he couldn’t stand the way this man chewed on his gum with his mouth open like some toddler. Especially the way his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt hung off his boney frame like it was two sizes too big for him.

“He’s with me, Pat,” Logan said. “Just give me a minute.”

The man didn’t look convinced, but eyed Ben from head to toe and walked away, swaggering like his pants were drooping around his knees. Upon inspection, Ben realized they were.

“One more fight,” Logan said, holding up his finger. “And don’t think I’m leaving just because you’re telling me to. I’m leaving for Katey, so she won’t worry anymore.”

The hairs on the back of Ben’s neck bristled with agitation. Logan stood up and walked away toward a burly man who stood outside the ring on the other side. Ben took a few steps away from the cage, but wouldn’t join the other spectators who bade for more sport.

A thought, dangerous and brazen, entered Ben’s mind as he watched and listened to Logan tell the man that he would take one more challenger and then call it a night. He noticed how Logan was so confident that he would win that next fight, wording his statement as if he were just playing with children. Well, perhaps it was time Logan faced someone of his own caliber.

Taking a quick look around, Ben hustled toward the ring stairs and threw open the mesh door that would permit him into the cage. Logan spun and snarled at the omega as the din of the crowd lessened just a hair.

A man, far from being dressed or prepared for a fight, had entered the arena to face a beast of an opponent. Just as Ben suspected, everyone started putting bets on Logan, multiplying the pot into a considerable amount that would have made the boy’s jaw drop if he were paying attention to the figures that were being calculated from the bar.

“You can’t be serious,” Logan said as Ben began to roll up the black sleeves of his button-down shirt up to his elbows.

“As serious as a heart attack, Logan. You can’t say you haven’t wanted to lick me in a fight for a while.”

Logan chuckled and held out his arms to present his pack mate with the sight of the cage and the club in which they were trapped. “This is my domain, Ben. You can’t possibly beat me here.”

Ben pretended to stretch, though he knew he wouldn’t need it. It had been years since he fought, but the muscle memory was still there. None of them knew his reputation. Even as an infantry man in his Georgia outfit back during the state wars, Ben was known as a bulldog in any fight, on the field or off.

“Just shut your mouth, runt, and listen for that bell,” Ben taunted. “It’ll be the last thing you hear before Katey’s voice tonight when I have to carry you home over my shoulder.”

Finding it all too amusing, Logan laughed and stamped his bare foot on the mat. “You seem so sure it won’t be the other way around.”

The bartender announced the fight and the bell rang, telling the brawlers to commence.

Before he could dodge it, Logan came flying at him with fists raised and eyes blazing with every ounce of resentment and seething hatred he had been holding in his heart toward Ben for all these years. Here in the ring, there was no alpha or beta to keep them from tearing one another apart. There was no Katey to intervene. Here, they could unleash themselves and finally put this unspoken business to rest.

Logan’s knuckles made contact with Ben’s cheekbone, but as he always did, he rolled with the punch and slipped away from the path of destruction the boy planned to lay out for him. Ben grabbed for his arm and twisted it behind his back.

The boy gave a shout of pain as Ben held his arm up, his grip firm and unyielding, until Logan was struggling to keep balance on the tips of his toes. With one flick of his wrist, Ben wringed Logan’s arm until he heard the sickening pop of bones and joints. He could feel the broken pieces move beneath his palm. Logan let out a roar and wildly spun to clip the side of Ben’s ear with the claws that extended from the tips of his fingers.

The sting was hardly anything to be bothered by as blood seeped into his ear canal and down the side of his neck. Ben released him anyway and let him stumble across the mat to get away. Logan shielded his arm from the view of the spectators that roared and shouted their own suggestions of what Logan should do to his cool-headed opponent.

Ben rubbed the back of his hand and wrist on the last remnants of the wound that tickled the fine hairs along the back of his jaw. The gash was healed by now, soft cartilage mended and all. Logan’s arm took a little longer, but as soon as the bones had knitted themselves back together, the youth circled the omega, reassessing his strategy like the true predator that he was.

Ben waited, lazily turning with Logan and keeping his eyes fixed upon him, ready for the next move. One of Logan’s mistakes, though Ben would be an idiot to point it out, was that he let rage and fury guide his attacks. Ben held no such bitterness toward his pack mate, so each move would be carefully calculated to apprehend rather than harm. Though, there was over a century of retribution that was long overdue.

“What are you waitin’ for, Logan? An invitation?”

A wicked grin curled across his lips as he shook his head. “Just waiting for you, princess.”

Ben held up his middle finger and waved it in a beckoning way that sent the spectators into fits of laughter. Against his better senses, Ben was enjoying humiliating Logan.

Just as he predicted, Logan charged one more time and Ben was ready to step to the side and avoid him completely. Logan ran into the ropes and propelled himself back, but Ben met him with a fist straight to the nose.

The unrestrained force in his punch cracked a few of the tiny bones in Logan’s face, as well as probably fracturing a few in Ben’s fingers. Blood shot in a stream from Logan’s nose before it had a chance to heal and some of the audience was losing their confidence in the champion.

Ben shook out his fingers and flexed them until they healed properly while Logan was busy nursing his broken nose. The boy reeled and bent low, letting the blood drip from his chin to join the other dark burgundy stains on the mat.

“Want more, princess?” Ben egged on, now circling Logan just as he had done earlier. “Or should I call Katey to finish the fight for you?”

Whatever he said, it finally spurred Logan into true action. With his arm slathered in blood from his face, Logan leapt upon Ben and pounded him with rapid jabs to his face and shoulders. Ben kept his arms up to defend himself. He held up Logan’s weight as he wrapped his legs around Ben’s torso. The bones in his arms snapped in several places, taking the full brunt of Logan’s close-quarter hits.

After a moment, the pain was too much and Ben grabbed at Logan’s arms and slammed him down into the mat. That didn’t deter the younger loup-garou from continuing his assault. Both pairs of eyes glowed their wolfish gold and breaths came out ragged and guttural as the civilized match turned into a full-out brawl, no holds barred, and as vicious as a true dog fight.

Several agonizing moments passed as their blood mixed together on the once white arena mat and some spectators shouted for a mediator to stop them from killing each other. Even if someone had the courage to break them apart, Ben doubted that it would have done any good. Yet, the crowd’s concern about a sudden death might not have been too farfetched.

The animal that Ben had caged for decades gnawed at the bars, slamming against the fortified walls that he had built to keep the peace. Ever since Vietnam, Ben had pulled back from acting upon the beast’s instinctual need to destroy and kill everything in sight. Darren and Dustin had done a thorough job in training him to suppress the side he had feared and hated since the day he woke up with his golden eyes blazing.

Now, thrashing Logan around the ring with blood stinging in his eyes, Ben couldn’t tell what he wanted anymore. At first, he wanted to humble Logan and show him that he wasn’t just blowing smoke earlier that day when he talked about his hardships during the war. It had developed into something much less personal and more primal.

He could feel the wolf rise, stretching and pressing against his chest and guts, ready to burst with each new blow he received and gave. Yet, it did not. Ben might not have had as much control as someone like Darren, Dustin, or John, but he could hold it back just long enough. He had never tested his limits, tested the strength of the leash he kept his beast upon. But one thing was for sure, if this fight continued, that leash would soon snap, and they would have a bigger problem on their hands than a lost bet.

Despite the risks, Ben continued to fight and resist defeat. He might have been an omega, but he was not weak. He never was.

A lull came in their match and the lack of noise around the cage told him that either the mob had been stunned into silence, or they were waiting with baited breath to see who would finally concede.

Logan was on his hands and knees, desperate to catch his breath after Ben had sent his elbow straight into his sternum. Ben, his fingertips caked in blood and eyes a bright and fierce gold, marched toward Logan and grabbed him by his hair to pull him back up.

There wasn’t much clean skin left on his face, much unlike how he looked before Ben entered the ring. Against the odds, Logan didn’t beg for mercy or reprieve. He simply snarled, nose wrinkled and eyes glaring with such heat. Ben didn’t care anymore. He sent his knee into Logan’s gut repeatedly until the boy was ready to spew out whatever was left in his stomach after the last few times Ben had made him retch.

A woman from the crowd screamed, “Stop it! Just stop it!”

Ben threw Logan down and he looked to the sea of wide eyed stares and gaping mouths. “Is this not what you all wanted?” he shouted. “A little sport? When will it be enough?”

Pat, the man who had approached Ben earlier, was in the front row, the drained cigarette dangling limply from his lips, a smooth stream of smoke curling upwards from the tip. The man neither made any moves to end the fight, nor to collect more bets from the customers around him. Even the men at the bar had turned, their whiskey glasses in hand to watch these two fighters rip each other apart.

He heard Logan rise to his feet and spit out the bit of bile that had come up his throat. “Ben,” he grunted to get the omega’s attention. “Let’s call it a draw.”

Ben wouldn’t let him off the hook that easy. He stalked forward, stepping through the puddles of bodily fluids between them. “A draw? That’s not like you, Logan. Where’s all that big talk?” He held out his hands, opening his body up to another attack if the boy only had the balls to take it.

Logan shook his head and straightened until the overhead lights gleamed off the sheen of sweat and blood on his chest. “I’m done. Let’s just go home.”

“I know you’ve got a little more fight in you,” Ben said, lowering his voice so only they could hear one another. “You always do. What’s gonna happen when Katey needs you and you’re wore out? Will you just throw in the towel? What about your kids? When they’re cryin’ for you, when they need you the most, are you just gonna give up?” Ben came closer, but made it clear that he would not attack. “Your family will depend on you. You can’t just say you’re done and walk away. That’s not what a father does.”

It was genuine advice coming from a man who had learned a hard lesson too late. He wasn’t there for Abigail when she had their son. He wasn’t there to help her raise their child, change diapers, or rock him to sleep at night. Ben had left them, thinking it was for the best of everyone, but he was wrong. He should have stayed, should have tried. He did exactly what he was telling Logan not to ever do. He walked away from the potential of having the best life, and instead, he wandered the wilderness and forsook the world.

Logan met Ben’s stare. A few moments of deathly stillness passed before Logan lowered himself into his boxing stance once more and raised his fists, telling Ben that he wasn’t ready to give up. He hadn’t been licked yet, and judging by the spark in his eyes, Ben knew he never would be again.

Precedents Cover Reveal & Preorder!

OMG GUYS! It’s finally coming! The fourth book of the Loup-Garou Series! This is gonna be awesome and if you haven’t read the previous three books, you’ll want to. Get ready to find out exactly how Katey and Logan come to the end of this long and tumultuous journey. There’s tons of feels in this one, people. I know because I even shed a few tears writing it. Don’t trust me? Read what this ARC reader said!

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Interest sparked? Add Precedents to your TBR list on Goodreads from THIS LINK and Preorder through Amazon with THIS LINK !

If that’s not enough, check out the amazing cover!

[image error]Katey Keith never expected to marry so young. She also never expected to be pregnant, or the first female loup-garou—werewolf—to give birth in thousands of years. As the embodiment of a Spirit of Peace, Katey’s carrying more than just her precious babies. She’s also carrying the future of her race. Her husband is doing what he can to help, but he has his own troubles.

What does Logan Keith know about being a father? He’s never had a good example in his life. And babies cost a lot of money. Logan’s doing whatever it takes to support his family, even if his sometimes dangerous jobs ignite clashes with Katey.

Then Katey and Logan, along with their pack, are summoned to an ancient castle carved into the snowy mountains in Switzerland. The council is meeting for the first time since the great Arnathian civilization fell apart due to the feud between werewolves and vampires. Can these two races make peace after spending centuries at war with one another? Katey’s supposed to be a great figurehead for the proceedings, but what does she know about politics or negotiating peace? But after an assassination attempt, one thing is clear. Someone is determined to unleash a great evil and make sure that Katey and her loup-garou family have no future at all.

What are you waiting for?! Releasing January 17th!

My 2-Cents on New Years Resolutions

So, I know in the past I’ve been like “New Year, New Me” and “I’m gonna get these things done this year”, but I’ve come to learn something over the last six or so months.

New Years Resolutions/Goals aren’t supposed to be a thing.

We should always been improving ourselves. If we don’t like something, we should change it here and now, and not wait for the ball to drop in New York for us to do something about it. I’ll admit that there’s a certain “newness” or “wash the slate clean” kind of moment when the clock strikes midnight and suddenly we have to remember to put the right year when we sign stuff, but what usually happens? We make the resolutions, we write them on a piece of paper or pin them to a wall somewhere to remind us of our vows to lose weight, be a better person, make more money, do more things – but in the end, do we actually achieve those goals? Can you remember the last time you actually did what you set out to do when January 1st rolled around? Did you lose that 20 pounds? Did you end up tacking on that extra $10k to your salary somehow? Or did you forget? Did you eat a few extra donuts more than you should have? Did you end up losing that job and getting another?

I’m not saying that goals are bad. They’re awesome. They should be made and conquered within reason. What I’m saying is that I’m not going to jump on the bandwagon and make a resolution this year like every mother’s child on the planet.

Instead, I’m making a vow to be true to myself. That’s all I can ever promise and all I can ever hope to accomplish. I don’t want to make a goal and say I’ll publish X amount of books this year or lose that extra belly fat. I’ll still try, but on my own terms and in my own time. I don’t need a bunch of 2018 party hats and fireworks to tell me that I need to improve myself. I’ve known that for years.

So, I encourage you to take a moment instead, to reflect on all that happened this past year. Was it a good year? Was it bad? Did it go by too fast or slow? Whatever your answer is, keep in mind that it’s the past. It’s meant to mold us, teach us, and then be left in the rearview mirror. No matter what the next year holds for you and your family – and I hope it’s good – rest assured that as long as you’re still breathing, as long as you’ve survived every day leading up to this moment, your story isn’t over.

I wish you a happy new year, filled with blessings!

Sheritta

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Now Availble on Audio!

It’s here! Becoming the Enigma is now available on Audible, Amazon, and iTunes!

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Amazon 

When high school student Katey McCoy accepted the offer of the boy she fell in love with, she knew her world would be changed forever. She just didn’t realize how profound – and dangerous – those changes would be. Logan Keith, her handsome schoolmate, is a werewolf – a loup-garou – and now, Katey is one as well, the first female to ever survive the transformation.

It doesn’t take long for Katey to understand she’s not the indestructible monster of myths and legends. Getting used to her strong, beautiful new body, her intense new senses, and her obligations to her new pack is hard work, but Katey’s determined to be the best. To her surprise and sorrow, Katey’s transformation didn’t bring Logan closer as she’d hoped. Instead, he’s become standoffish and, at the same time, strangely possessive, especially when a rival loup-garou plans to claim Katey as his own.

Then, they’re plunged into even greater danger. A new threat is determined to annihilate the werewolves. Will Logan be strong enough to confront his feelings for Katey? Or will an ancient prophecy rip them apart forever?

Sample

 

It’s Coming! Becoming the Enigma Audio!

Hey y’all! I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas and you have my warmest blessings for a fantastic new year on the horizon!

I’ve got some news! Becoming the Enigma is coming to Audible and Amazon audio! It’s not live yet, but I wanted to get you a little sneak peek into what you can expect. It’s gonna be epic! Stay tuned to my blog and newsletter for the latest news when it’s available!

 

The Legacy Series Novellas

The first step in this long journey to flesh out these novellas is finally done. The first four novellas are out and available on Amazon! Best news? The print version with the complete four novellas is coming soon and the audiobook is currently in the works! Follow my blog and other social media for updates and notices about new releases! If you loved the Loup-Garou Series and were curious about the characters, this is a novella series you’ll want to keep track of!

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The Legend 

John Croxen, convinced that he is possessed by a demon, takes a risk when he saves the life of a beautiful gypsy woman one night while roaming the forests of England. However, Annalette is not as she appears. She knows that John is not demon possessed, but in fact a loup-garou – a werewolf. Alone and in need of his unique kind of help, Annalette strikes a bargain with John. If he can help rescue her condemned brother from prison, she will tell him everything he needs to know about being a loup-garou.

The Guide 

Tor, the last priest of the half-man, half-god Wepwawet, is thrown out of his solitude when an Italian explorer recruits the werewolf to help him and his vampire employer, Michael Gennari, to find the lost civilization of Arnathia where their races used to live in peace and harmony. On a quest to find out why their kind can’t get along, Tor finds himself the unwilling focus of Michael’s young vampire daughter, Jane.

The Frenchman 

Darren Dubose was born into a sickly life as the bastard child to a former French noblewoman. After one night of torturous pain, he awakes to find himself strong, fast, and in possession of amazingly keen senses. That’s not all, though. Under the guidance of the local baker, Darren finds out that he is a werewolf and needs to find an alpha to train him. With only a name, he points Darren in the direction of France, but he’s leaving behind more than just his home and family.

The Prophecy 

Werewolf brothers Geoffrey and Hugo Swenson search the world for tales about their kind. Their most recent search has sent them to Russia where they seek a mythical White Wolf of Peace, who is foretold to have the power to eradicate hate and violence in the world. They’re joined by a vampire lord, Michael Gennari, on their quest, but it soon becomes apparent that the seekers of peace have a lot to learn about peace itself.

Silver Screen on Audio!

It’s here! Silver Screen is fully live on Audible!

If you’ve already read the story, you’re going to love John Fehsken’s performance of this sweet paranormal romance. Take a listen into chapter one of the audiobook below and check out THIS LINK to Audible to get your copy today! Do you commute long hours or need something to listen to while you clean the house or cook dinner? Maybe you should try some audiobooks to pass the time! Sign up to get your first free audiobook with their trial program. First month’s subscription is free!

25 Days of Christmas

Christmas came early today! Looking for great holiday themed stories to get you in the spirit for the season? You’ll want to check out this great anthology! For those who don’t know, an anthology is a collection of stories that revolve around a theme or focus. 25 Days of Christmas is a collection of Christmas, Thanksgiving, and News Years romance stories that level in steaminess from near-erotic to super sweet (which is what mine is). They’re nice little novellas you can read by the fire while sipping on your hot cocoa.

My story, Wolves in Wintertime, is one of the 25 excellent stories amongst some amazing and talented authors. It’s a story about a teenager who is the daughter of a werewolf alpha. She’s dragged all the way to Alaska to attend a national gathering of other werewolves to celebrate the last full moon of the year. While staying in the hotel, she meets another werewolf about her age and they’re immediately attracted to one another. The catch? He belongs to a rival werewolf pack that doesn’t like her father and don’t like outsiders intruding on their pack dynamics. Well, Amber and Danny are about shake things up. Here’s a sneak back into chapter 3 of Wolves in Wintertime.

To purchase the anthology, follow THIS LINK to Amazon!

Amber tapped the eraser end of her pencil against the textbook page, her legs lightly kicking the air behind her, as she laid on her stomach on the hotel bed. Her eyes were zoned out over the image of the chimp with its lips curled back in a goofy pose for the camera. She was supposed to be finishing up some winter break homework for her biology class, but that was nearly impossible.

Every minute or so, Amber twisted around and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Eight o’clock couldn’t come soon enough. With a sigh, she looked back to her notebook page. A few of the light blue lines were filled, but if anyone had asked her what she had just read, she wouldn’t be able to give them an answer.

Her mind was filled with other things far more interesting than school work. The first meeting with Danny replayed over and over again in her mind, eliciting a grin or suppressed giggle each time.

Danny tripped over the starting line, but it was adorable the way he tried to pick himself back up and continue the race. It was a rocky start, but Amber knew that slow and steady always won the race. Yet, how slow could they really take it? The gathering would be over in a week’s time and they would part ways. She’d be back in Missouri before the end of the year, and Danny would go back to wherever it was he came from.

That wasn’t going to stop her from enjoying this.

Downstairs, she could hear the rest of her father’s pack talking and playing billiards in the complimentary game room that was connected to the suite. Not all packs were given suites with kitchenettes and game rooms, but Ethan had enough clout with the local pack to pull off the accommodations.

The downside was they had to room-up with a smaller pack from Florida that they were unfamiliar with. Ethan and Peter debriefed them about her, and the pack was more than willing to comply. Though none of them traveled with women, it looked like they were far from interested in her.

There was a sharp rap on the door and Amber jerked. Alone in the hotel room she shared with her father, she thought she would have been left alone.

“Yes?” she grumbled. There was no reason to raise her voice to a werewolf who could hear her breathing, even with a wall between them.

Her father walked in and shut the door behind him. She crawled back from her open textbook and sat cross-legged on top of the slightly wrinkled comforter. With a kind smile, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked to her unfinished homework.

Amber expected a scolding or some harsh words that she should have been done an hour or so ago. He looked neither angry nor suspicious. When she dismissed herself after dinner, Ethan didn’t look entirely pleased, as if he had something planned for her, and she had ruined it.

“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said.

Amber bit her lips and nodded. “I’m all right. Just having a hard time focusing.”

Ethan pinched the corner of the textbook and slid it around so he could skim through the page. His eyes, the color of dark ice tea, absorbed the information faster than she ever would. Werewolves were incredibly smart. They remembered everything, retaining knowledge like a sponge that soaked up water. Younger werewolves breezed through school like it was nothing, while Amber would continuously struggle.

He snorted and smiled. “It’s amazing what scientists are discovering nowadays.”

Ethan was over five hundred years old, with tinges of grey in his beard and at his temples. He was there when they invented indoor plumbing, but he’d also lived through tremendous trials as a werewolf. When she was little, before he became so involved in pack business, he told her bedtime stories about witch hunts, and dodging suspicion from colonists during the revolutionary war. At the time, it was just stories. In later years, Amber learned to appreciate the hardships he’d survived.

“But they haven’t discovered you yet,” she remarked as she gripped her ankles.

His brows shrugged and he let out a deep sigh. “This is true… It may just be a matter of time.”

Amber didn’t want to talk about anything so serious. She had grown up with werewolves and had never been afraid of them in their human form or full wolf form. There were plenty of other humans like her who knew about the supernatural, but how would the world react? There were already hunters who dedicated their lives to hunting down packs. How many more would pop up if the news went worldwide?

“When’s the gathering again?” she asked, changing the subject.

“This Friday,” he answered, as he slid the book back to its original place and looked up to his daughter. “The Christmas banquet will be held at noon that day, and we’ll do our gift exchange before we leave for the night.”

Amber thought of her father’s gift that was tucked away in her suitcase. It had taken her a lot of time and thought to figure out what Ethan would want. Her mother had always picked out the gifts and put both of their names on it, so Ethan would think it came from both of them. It wasn’t that Amber didn’t care. She just didn’t know her father well enough anymore.

“You don’t have to stay in the room the whole trip,” Ethan told her. “There are plenty of things to do in town, and Peter knows quite a few of them. He’s happy to look after you, so don’t feel like you’re inconveniencing him.”

She was sure hanging out with Peter for a week would be fun. Unlike her father, Peter wasn’t so rigid. The beta bent the rules on a daily basis, just like Amber’s mother had. He wasn’t nearly as old as her father, but just as wise. Wise enough to know that life was too precious to spend it on a leash.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Probably growing frustrated with her silence, Ethan stood and made his way to the door. Just as his hand wrapped around the handle, Amber spoke up. “I want gingerbread cookies,” she said.

Ethan turned back to her and nodded. “I’m sure I can get the resort cooks to bake you some.”

Amber felt her chest ache as she continued. “No, I want the ones that mom made. You know, the ones with the chocolate chips in them?”

The alpha didn’t normally express vulnerable emotions such as grief or sadness, but almost every time Amber mentioned her mother in private, Ethan “got the morbs” as Peter put it. His face would go slack and his stare softened.

“There’s a bakery in town, but I don’t know if they would make the cookies like your mother used to.” Ethan thought for a moment. “When we get home, we’ll look around in your mother’s things to see if she left a written recipe somewhere.”

Amber knew it was an outlandish request. If she’d had the means to get the ingredients, she might have tried to make them on her own. There had to be a recipe on the internet somewhere. Her mom had made special gingerbread cookies every Christmas.

Before Amber became too old for kid stories, they would leave the cookies out for Santa on Christmas eve. Ethan couldn’t eat them because of his sensitive werewolf stomach, but he would toss a few in the trash to make it look like Santa had eaten something. The ladies of the house would gobble up the leftovers on Christmas morning while they opened presents. Some of Amber’s earliest memories were of dipping the cookies into a cup of milk and counting down the seconds with her mother until the treat was nice and soft, but not too soggy.

This would be her first Christmas without her mother’s special cookies. If Amber had thought of it ahead of time, she would have tried to teach herself how to bake so she could have the cookies on Christmas morning, but she’d be counting down the seconds by herself this year.

With her throat too thick with threatening tears, Amber nodded and looked away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan hesitate at the door.

Ever since the funeral, they’d had a hard time getting close to one another again. Amber had never been a daddy’s girl, but she knew that her relationship with her father wasn’t where it should have been. Between school and pack obligations, it was hard to schedule quality time. This trip might have been their chance to finally remedy that. Perhaps it was too soon to tell, but Amber wasn’t sure if a week could fix seventeen years of being a semi-absent father.

Ethan bid her a goodnight and left the hotel room. The silence rang in her ears, and Amber checked the clock one more time. At least she would have a diversion from her slightly sad life. And what a hot diversion he was.

Audio, Holidays, Novellas, Legacy, and More!

 

Hello, peoples! It’s been a while since I’ve posted an update blog! As you can probably tell, I’ve been prolific in the last few months.

One of my biggest announcements is that Silver Screen will finally be available on Audio! The files were officially submitted last week and we’re just waiting on it to hit the retail market! I’m so freakin’ excited because I’ve really fallen in love with this story all over again, thanks to the talented voice of John Fehskens, who went above and beyond my expectations. This audio book will certainly be a treat to listen to and you don’t want to miss it! I’ll be posting the link to Audible as soon as I get the word that it’s live, but here’s a quick sample of what you can expect of this lovely, sweet shifter romance featuring a werewolf movie star and his jaded makeup artist.

And as promised, I have another Legacy novella for you! This one is a bit shorter than usual, but it fills in some information about a few things that are briefly discussed in my Loup-Garou series. You were introduced to Michael Gennari in The Guide, and Darren Dubose in The Frenchman where his father, Hugo, was mentioned. Well, it’s a small world, and these characters are about to team up for a spell. No, not Darren and Michael. Hugo and Michael, along with Geoffrey and Anton. Yes! Anton’s origins will be revealed in The Prophecy.

The Prophecy (Legacy Series #4)

[image error]*Russia, 1648*

Geoffrey and Hugo Swenson scour the globe, searching out and cataloguing stories about their kind. About werewolves. They find themselves in Russia, hunting down a specific legend about a mythic white wolf that is said to embody the spirit of peace. As their world is consumed by war, violence, and destruction, they want to find the White Wolf to beseech it to expel the evil from the hearts of men.

They meet an unlikely ally in a pair of vampires, Michael Gennari and Anton Wiatrowsk, who are in search of the White Wolf for the same reason. The two races who are supposed to be at war with one another, must set aside their differences and join forces to trek across the rugged landscape of Siberia, through a country torn by riots and rebellions, in hopes to find peace for the world. But, can they find peace in themselves first?

Releasing November 21st, you have some time to preorder and have it delivered directly to your e-reader!

This fourth installation of The Legacy Series concludes the first volume, which takes place between 1555 and 1649. The next volume picks up in the next century, 1720s and we’re hoping over the big water to the New World! I’m super excited for volume two, but I’ll be compiling the first volume of the Legacy Series into a print AND audio format! The audio won’t be ready until sometime in March, but the print volume will be ready before the end of the year. Keep your eye out for the link!

Now, I’ve got other things going on this holiday season, so December’s novella, The Pirate (yes, werewolf pirates, I’m totally going there), will be postponed to January. However, you’ll still get your Bitikofer Book fix because I’ve got two anthology contributions in the works. The first one has a special holiday ring that falls in with my Loup-Garou Series. In this 25 Days of Christmas Anthology, I’ll be telling a sweet little story about two teenagers who find themselves in a precarious situation between two alphas.

Wolves in Wintertime

Amber is the daughter of an alpha werewolf, and has recently lost her mother to cancer. When the holidays come around, it’s a difficult time for everyone in her pack. On top of that, her father is expected to attend the annual gathering of werewolves in Alaska and unfortunately he has to bring Amber along with him. Being an unclaimed female, it’s especially dangerous but he has little choice but to bring along the high school senior. Amber’s not too happy about the trip either until a young werewolf from a rival pack catches her eye. Immediately smitten with one another, they have to hide their winter fling from their alphas, or else they’ll have an all-out werewolf war on their hands.

I’ve got another Anthology that I just recently finished my story for, but I’ll have more details and a preorder link when it gets closer to the time. It won’t be releasing until February of 2018. I’ll tell you this much, it’s a little out of the norm for me.

By The Book

“When Tara Christiano slid the pretty romance novel down from the shelf at the local bookstore-slash-coffee shop, she never suspected that her life would be turned upside down. It isn’t just any ordinary book. It can predict the future. Specifically, Tara’s. And when her future becomes intertwined with a handsome new face in town, she anxiously awaits each new page that is revealed, hoping Beau will become her love interest. Beau Bremor came to Mercy, Texas to help his brother get back on his feet after the loss of his wife. Helping on Devin’s ranch is one thing, but the well-being of his little niece, Dixie, is in the forefront of his mind. She needs a mother and Devin needs a wife. When Beau meets a young, attractive woman at the bookstore, a scheme formulates. But, can he keep his objective in mind while he’s falling head-over-heels for the beautiful and witty Tara, whom he is trying to set up with his brother?”

Yeah, definitely different genre for me. No wolves! How strange!

I’ll also be adding my story, Beauty and the Blaze, to Paige Tyler’s Dallas Fire Rescue Kindle World! Releasing in January, you’ll get to read a little story that I’ve been eager to write for quite a while!

Beauty and the Blaze

[image error]Brandy was just eight years old when the urban legend, The Beast, saved her from drowning in the creek outside her hometown. It was the last time anyone had heard of the mythic, altruistic monster that some likened to a really big dog or wolf-like creature. It had a record of savings countless lives over the generations. As an adult, Brandy never forgot the kind deeds of the Beast. It had been fifteen years since the last sighting and she’s become quite the local expert on everything involving The Beast. Her little obsession has made her somewhat of an outcast in some social circles, so when a new face in town starts to pay her a little special attention, she latches onto it with both fists. Handsome and charming, she hopes that Hugh isn’t too good to be true.

Hugh never expected to come back to Morrisville, but the hectic city life of Dallas had proved too taxing on him and his inner wolf. He’s returned to his hometown, hoping to find the easy living he missed. But, how easy of a living can a firefighting werewolf really have? Thinking the worst of his problems will be cats getting stuck up in trees or the occasional car accident, Hugh’s looking forward to relaxing for a change. When he meets the feisty, red-haired librarian, though, the past decides to rear its ugly head and remind him why he left Morrisville in the first place. With a compassionate heart, can he leave well enough alone, or has the urban legend returned to take up his yoke again?

Isn’t that a gorgeous cover? When it gets closer to release time, I’ll be sure to share the link.

You know what else is coming in January? Yep, the fourth book in The Loup-Garou Series, Precedents! It’s going through the last rounds of edits and the couple of months leading up to its release will be epic! Cover Reveal, Release Party, Giveaways, and tons of sneak peeks are in store. It’s a bitter sweet moment that the final chapter in Katey and Logan’s story is going to be finally be revealed. However, I can say that it isn’t the end for them. Once the Legacy Series is complete, there will be more books to come that take place in the same universe. John’s four sons will be getting a series of their own, and a few more books are on deck that will include the characters you know and love.

[image error]I am so blessed to be where I am in my journey as an author and I sincerely hope that you enjoy the world I’ve created. It’s been a long time in the making.

Stay tuned through my blog, Facebook, and Newsletter to get the latest updates on preorders, giveaways, and more news on upcoming releases.

Until next time, Happy Reading!

Sneak Peek into The Frenchman

Releasing October 24th is the third book in the Legacy Series. The Frenchman follows the origin story for Darren Dubose, the alpha from the Loup-Garou Series. Read how Darren met his mentor, John Croxen, and learned to grapple with the reality that he is a loup-garou.

Preorder today! 

Chapter 3

When Darren entered Warminster, he didn’t consider the attention he would draw. Every one of the townspeople knew who he was by reputation, either of himself or his mother. They all knew him as the bastard child who could barely lift a basket full of grain. Even though he snitched a shirt from another farmer’s clothes line on the way into town, it did little to hide the change that took place in him.

Heads swiveled in his direction and he could feel their shocked and frightened gazes as they assessed his new body. What he didn’t expect was to hear their whispers. Every word they said, whether in hushed voices or simply masked by their own hands as they talked to their neighbors, he could hear them loud and clear, even if they were across the street or behind closed doors.

“Look at him!” they silently jeered. “What happened to him.”

“That’s not the same boy.”

“That can’t be Martha Dubose’s son.”

“What did he do to himself?”

“It must be the work of the devil.”

“An angel must have blessed that poor boy.”

Darren’s steps slowed as he turned to listen to each of them with a fluttering heart and uneasy stare. Their voices of dissention, ridicule, and disbelief crowded in until he was ready to give up on finding George and run for the quiet safety of the forest. He could scarcely hear himself think through the cacophony of noise, from the townspeople’s chatter to the rumble of carts and stamping of horse hooves on distant streets.

He could hear the merchants toiling away in their shops and laborers talking with their fellow workers. Children laughter and baby cries screamed in his ears as if they were close enough to touch. Smells of all kinds from the putrid stench of dung to the perfumes of ladies in their homes strangled his mind and sometimes made him retch and cough for cleaner air.

The town had never seemed so odious, so revolting and unkind a place as now. Darren thought he could take no more until a new sensation pierced through the chaos. A tight and prickling feeling in the back of his skull. He sometimes felt this when he rushed out of bed too quickly or took one sip too many of the brandy that Arthur offered him to ease his stomach ailments. This, however, was much worse and more intense than any of that.

He touched the back of his head to make sure he wasn’t bleeding or hadn’t been inadvertently struck by something. Darren did wake up on his back, so perhaps some bug or insect had bitten his scalp during the night. However, there was no blood or bump to indicate an injury.

“Pssst,” he heard coming from up ahead, a harsh sound that seemed to break through all the distracting noises.

Darren looked up and saw a man standing just outside the door of the bakery. His sharp blue eyes fixed on Darren and he waved him forward. As he obeyed the summons, Darren could feel the sharp needles in his skull dig their invisible points deeper into his skin.

Yet, he bore the discomfort long enough to join the man at the door. The baker’s cheeks and tunic were dusted with a decent layer of flour that offset his dark hair. As soon as Darren was within arm’s reach, the baker pulled him into his shop and shut the door.

The yeasty scent of unbaked dough and fire from the ovens that met him was a pleasant smell compared to what he encountered on the streets of Warminster. All around, trays and bowls of rising dough and bushels of golden brown loaves were scattered over the floors and surfaces.

Before Darren had a chance to adjust to the sudden lack of congesting noise, the baker grabbed him by the arm. “Were you bitten?”

Darren looked to the frantic man and blinked back the fresh wave of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

The baker quickly let go. The tingling in Darren’s skull began to ebb away, giving him some relief as he grew accustomed to the feeling.

“Were you bitten or born this way?” he clarified as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Darren, still lost in the question, shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The baker’s brows lowered and he gestured to Darren’s body. “This. What made this happen?”

Taking a look at the hysterical baker, Darren didn’t think that he was looking for the secret to his strength. Though the baker’s profession might have been innocuous enough, the man looked as if he could crush bones easily between his hands. In fact, their statures were not so dissimilar.

“I… I just woke up like this,” Darren replied, not wanting to give away George or make the baker suspect that the hermit had anything to do with this just yet. The rest of the townspeople already believed him to be a sorcerer or witch of some sort. If they thought that George had created this new body for Darren, their suspicions might be confirmed.

“So, you were born one,” the baker said with a relieved nod. “That is good. At least we know that there isn’t another of us running around somewhere. Where is your father? Or, is what they say true, that you have none?”

Darren took a step away from the offending baker. “Born what? If you don’t start talking sense, I’ll… I’ll…” He held up one of his fists, something that never used to be intimidating. “I won’t hesitate to –“

The baker let out a hearty laugh, cutting Darren’s threat short. “Boy, you can do nothing to me.”

He had enough of their contempt, enough of being disregarded. He used to be defenseless, but no more. Darren used his fist and threw all his weight into the punch, sending the baker to the floor.

With his chest heaving and heart thrumming heavier in his chest, Darren stood over the man and shouted, “Don’t laugh at me! Tell me what you mean! What am I?”

He was expecting the baker to call him a bastard, a coward, or a fool. Instead, Darren watched with horror as the baker took his jaw and popped it back into place. A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth and he wiped it on the back of his arm, smearing flour across his lips and chin in the process.

If Darren had broken the man’s jaw in that way, he shouldn’t have been able to talk or even push himself off the floor so quickly. He hadn’t even expected to throw that much force into the punch.

“You, boy, are a werewolf,” the baker said and he shoved a baffled Darren backward a step or two so he would have room to straighten out his tunic.

“A… a what?”

“Werewolf,” the man repeated. “Just like me.” He offered out his hand. “Bartholomew,” he introduced.

Darren wasn’t sure whether to take the man’s hand or run out of the bakery screaming. He didn’t move, he didn’t accept the gesture of friendship offered by the man who just realigned his own jaw, and he wouldn’t believe anything the baker said.

“Werewolf?” he questioned. “The beasts that mothers tell their children about to make them behave?”

Bartholomew lowered his hand. “Not the exact same, but the general idea. There are many differences, of course.”

“Such as the fact that they don’t exist,” Darren replied. “No man can turn into a beast.”

“Yet, you changed forms overnight,” Bartholomew stated. “I’ve seen you in town and you were not like this before. So, how much more fantastic is it to believe a man can change into a wolf?”

Darren shook his head. “It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

They stared at one another for a long, tense moment before Darren broke in. “What proof do you have? If you are a werewolf, prove it.”

Bartholomew looked toward the paned window that gave him an ample view of the street beyond and moved away so anyone who might have peeked in couldn’t see his face. When the baker turned back to Darren, his eyes were no longer blue, but a brilliant shade of gold. Darren staggered backward, but could not look away as his hands trembled.

“This is the easiest way to show you,” Bartholomew said, a note of apology in his voice as if he didn’t want their first meeting to have come to this.

More startling that the change in Bartholomew’s eyes, was the change in Darren when he stared into the gaze of the wolf. Something deep within his chest began to stir, as if some whirling mass was coming alive beneath his ribs. There was no pain, just a sense of comfort and affinity with the pair of golden eyes.

The rational, reasonable part of his mind could not comprehend any of it, shunning any possibility that this was real. Perhaps he had been dreaming this entire morning? The change in Darren’s body was slightly more difficult to accept than a man’s eyes turning an unnatural color that belonged on an animal. Yet, what if this were all a fantasy? What if these muscles and those eyes were nothing but a figment of his imagination, concocted by whatever George put in that tonic? This all led back to George in some way or another and it reminded Darren that he still needed to find him.

First, he needed to see if this really was a dream. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the false reality. “This isn’t real,” he repeated to himself over and over again, as if it would do him any good.

The baker grabbed him by the arms and shook him. “I assure you, this is real. Look at me.”

Against his better judgment to ignore the fictitious figure, Darren opened his eyes. The wolf in Bartholomew’s gaze was gone now and the blue had returned.

“Where did you wake up? What happened last night before you fell asleep?”

Darren saw no point in lying to the baker, since this was only a dream. He would wake up soon enough when someone found him in the woods. So, he told him about riding his horse through Lockleat Forest, how he fell under tremendous pain, and blacked out in consequence.

“Yes, you were certainly born a werewolf,” Bartholomew mused as he let go of Darren. “Do you know where your father is?”

“Neither I nor my mother have seen him for years. He was not a werewolf.”

“Can you be sure of that?” Bartholomew’s brows arched and Darren wasn’t positive anymore.

“For the sake of argument, what if he was? What does that matter?”

Bartholomew crossed his strong arms over his chest. “A werewolf can either be born or bitten by another werewolf. If you were not bitten, then your father must have been a werewolf. Those are the only two ways. It is preferred that fathers stay with their sons until they reach maturity, as you have, but it seems to be a rarity now. I’ve met many more like you who change and have had no guidance. Most unfortunate, I cannot give you such guidance. Only your father or an alpha can.”

It was all too fantastic to believe and Darren gave the baker a mirthless smile and looked heavenward. “This is absolutely ridiculous. I’m not a werewolf.”

“Then how else can you explain your enhanced senses and your new strength and speed?”

Darren had mentioned none of that to Bartholomew in the short few minutes they had known one another. “How could you –“

Bartholomew grinned and tapped one of his ears. “I am a werewolf too, remember? I’ve been around for centuries. I know how unusual it can seem, but you must believe I’m telling the truth.”

“I do not believe it, sir, and I will not,” Darren snapped. “It’s preposterous all together and I don’t know how I could have ever thought any of this to be real. I’m still unconscious, somewhere in the forest and this is all a dream. Good day to you,”

Darren stormed toward the door, but faster than he realized, Bartholomew blocked his path. “You can try and deny this all you want, but as the days, weeks, and months drag on and you haven’t woken up, you’ll know I am not lying to you.”

Darren’s skin crawled as a fiery anger welled in his gut. “I am not a werewolf and my father was not a werewolf. I am not some murdering beast that prowls around in the moonlight. You, sir, are insane and I’ve had enough of this!”

He forced the baker aside with one sweep of his arm and charged into the street without so much as a look backward. He slammed the bakery door shut behind him and stood in the street, immersing himself back into the biting words of the women and snide remarks of the men who watched Darren from a safe distance. He almost preferred the smell of dough over the suffocating city odors, but he could not bear the company that came along with it.

Bartholomew did not chase after him as Darren hurried to find George’s trail again. Even as he did, the thought occurred to him that he was tracking, just as a wolf did, using a scent to find his target.

No. Darren shook his head. He would not give in to such temptations. He was not a beast. This was all either a terrible and misleading dream, or a hallucinogenic effect of the tonic George prescribed. He had to make sense of this somehow. There had to be a better explanation than werewolves and monsters.

Down the street, a commotion erupted. He turned to watch a cart careen down the lane, led by two mad horses who were not too concerned with trampling everything and everyone in their path. Darren jumped out of the way as the wagon loaded down with wooden crates, came rattling past him. Undeterred by the interruption, he carried on.

Then, he heard something else. A woman’s scream. Considering that the horses were plowing their way through the center of a crowded square, it wasn’t surprising to hear. What she screamed was more important and it snagged Darren’s attention.

“My baby!”

Darren turned and saw just the faintest flash of blonde hair down the lane, lying right in the destructive path of the rampaging horses. Without a second thought, Darren did what he knew he had to. Being careful not to overshoot, he dashed forward, little more than a blur to anyone else’s sight.

He quickly passed up the horses who were at a full gallop, and positioned himself in front of the little girl who had fallen onto the cobblestone streets. He could smell a bit of blood from her skinned knee. Looking back to the horses, he felt a primal and inexplicable shift in his chest.

Without even meaning to, a deep growl rumbled from his throat and his eyes went cold as if wind were blasting them, but they didn’t go dry nor did they warm themselves again when he blinked. Instead of grabbing the girl like he had intended, Darren stood his ground and braced himself to take on the horses himself.

What had come over him?

The horses spotted Darren, their crazed eyes rolling in their skulls as their necks and haunches frothed up a good sweat. They reared and quickly turned to escape the man who blocked their path. They skittered to the side and he thought he could smell something emanate from them as potent as the stench of dung that floated through the streets. It was a peppery, savory smell that only encouraged the rising of this primitive notion that he could easily tear these horses apart if he wanted. Some intuitive sense told him it was fear that he smelled. Fear of death from the human who dared to step in front of them.

Darren’s lips curled up in a snarl as the horses turned. The wagon, however, could not be stopped so easily. The hitch that kept the horses strapped to the cart snapped against the force of their change of direction.

The wagon wheels first skidded along the stony streets and then caught at some point, causing the contents to tumble out, barreling toward him with their sharp edges spinning with each turn. Darren turned his shoulder to the crates and crouched down to shield the child he endeavored to protect.

Oak collided with flesh and splintered into his skin, but he stood firm as the little girl screamed beneath him. When the collision was over and the dust settled, Darren and the child were surrounded be crates that were cracked open and broken apart, their contents spilled onto the street. With a few great thrusts, Darren pushed the heavy crates away from them and sent them flying in the square. Shrieks and gasps of alarm exploded among the nearby citizens.

Onward the horses sped, dragging the remaining parts of their harnesses as men tried to wrangle them to a stop. A crowd had gathered to assist in pulling the crates off and the mother of the child rushed forward to claim the girl.

With tears in her eyes, the woman gathered up her frightened and confused daughter. She did not offer a thank you or a promise to repay the debt she now owed to Darren for saving the life of her child. Instead, she took one look at him and fled with a horror-stricken look on her face.

The animalistic urge to growl and snap his teeth disappeared, but his eyes still felt cold and his muscles tensed to danger. He looked to the townsfolk, shards of wood sticking out from his tunic with dribbles of blood seeping through the cloth.

With each pair of eyes he met, disturbed sounds of alarm poured out of their mouths. Women ran away and men gapped, their hands reaching for the hilt of their daggers that were strapped to their belts. If the men didn’t have a weapon, they picked up whatever they could find to wield.

“Beast!” they cried.

“Witch!” gasped another.

Darren picked out the splinters as he backed away from the mob that accused him of something he did not do. He pried each of them out, but when he inspected the wounds, he found no holes or puncture wounds. Yet, there was blood all the same.

“I’m not a beast!” he argued, sweeping the last bit of dust from his tunic.

Still, they persisted and one man pulled out a gun, the shaking barrel pointed at his chest. Once more perplexed and frightened, Darren hurried from the scene at a fast pace, but not a supernatural one as he had before. He needed to disappear, to become inconspicuous somehow before these men were out for his head. What had he done? Yes, it might have been unnatural the way he blocked the crates from crushing the child, but shouldn’t they have been cheering instead of scorning him?

Bartholomew emerged from his shop, probably hearing the disorder in the square. Darren made to steer around him, but the baker quickly grabbed him just as he had before. Their eyes met, but he did not have the same reaction as the others. “Run as far as you can from here and keep your eyes down until they’re warm again.”

It was then that Darren looked to the darkened window of the bakery. Between the framed panes, he could see his face and the golden eyes that stared back.

It couldn’t be. He rubbed at them, trying to erase the truth he could not accept. This was just a dream. Just a dream.

“I will come to you this evening. Go!” Bartholomew pushed him further down the street as the shouts of men grew closer.

There was no time to protest. Darren lowered his head and hustled away after he regained his footing. Taking the shortest path out of town and ducking through alley after alley, Darren finally arrived back to the spacious, rolling hills of the farmlands that surrounded Warminster.

He breathed in the fresh air, but nothing would ease his troubled mind. His eyes had turned gold, just like Bartholomew’s. Was that why they were cold? It had to be why the townspeople ran and shouted the way they did. What made them gold?

Darren remembered the way he felt staring down the horses, how he had been completely prepared to wrestle them to the ground to keep them from trampling the little girl. Such heroic impulses were not new to Darren. There were many times when he wanted to step in and stop a fight or help a man who was being robbed on the streets, but Darren had been unable to do anything about it because he wasn’t strong enough to contend with such brutes. Now, he was the brute, and he could do so much more than toss rocks over rivers. He could help people and save lives, just like he saved that girl, but was it worth it?

What if every time he stepped out to help someone, he turned into a beast with wolfish eyes?

Darren caught himself on an oak tree and pounded his fist into the bark until his knuckles bled. Angry tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. What was he to do? Who had the answers he needed so dearly?

No, he was not a werewolf. They didn’t exist.

Back and forth, his mind warred against him, battling for one truth over the other. Monsters were not real, not like the fairytales and folklore spoke of. Surely, there were evil people in the world, tyrants and warlords who killed people for the pleasure of it. But, it was not possible that a man could change shape and become an animal. He couldn’t… could he?