Aimee Easterling's Blog, page 15

Huntress Bound: Chapter 2

In case you missed it, you can read chapter 1 here.

With surprisingly few words, my host dug up an old pair of sweat pants then showed me into his bedroom. After that, he closed a far-too-solid door between us, flicking off the hall light and relegating himself to the couch.

Which left me trembling on the brink, fighting against my wolf’s desire to slip back through the darkened building and weasel my way into the absent human’s waiting arms.

“Totally inappropriate,” I chided my alter-ego, forcing our feet to turn away from the barrier. She countered with a memory of yesterday’s kiss, which—I in turn reminded her—had occurred in front of strangers and had never been repeated since. Plus, by human standards, a peck on the hand gave me no right to turn up on my mate’s doorstep after midnight, let alone insinuate myself into his belated slumber. Despite rocking my world, Sebastien’s lips had never even touched my face.

My wolf growled quietly but allowed me to turn aside in order to peruse our mate’s inner sanctum instead. Unlike his office back at the college, this room was neat as a pin, the bed freshly made and clothing all tucked away into drawers. Only two areas spoke to the professor’s recent attention—a desk cluttered with papers in one corner of the abode and a workbench dotted with wood shavings and carving paraphernalia at the other.

I was tempted to see what kind of art Sebastien had chosen to create. But nosing aimlessly through his belongings wasn’t what I’d come for. Instead, I perched on the hard wooden chair in front of the professor’s desk and opened the laptop that sat waiting on the otherwise empty expanse.

It felt strangely disloyal to borrow hardware without permission, vaguely like the lie Sebastien had made me promise not to tell. Still, I reasoned that my mate would neither know nor care that I’d plugged in a simple thumb drive and perused the contents using his keyboard and monitor. It wasn’t as if I planned to comb through my mate’s data; I just needed the loan of his equipment to discover what my brother had so carefully squirreled away.

Conscience sated, I inserted my brother’s data-storage device into its slot and hastily plugged in a pair of headphones as well when Derek’s face filled the laptop’s screen. “I don’t have much time,” my brother whispered, the view jiggling erratically as he speed walked down a corridor while filming himself on his cell phone. The younger male was entering the bay of PO boxes where I’d found this thumb drive, I realized. Meanwhile, the time stamp at the bottom of the screen matched the date when my brother’s social media accounts had gone so abruptly dark. Perhaps I was about to discover the clue that would lead me toward Derek’s current location?

Unfortunately, whatever had happened all those weeks ago must not have been good. Because my brother was obviously scared at the time of filming, sweat beading on his forehead as he glanced back over one shoulder rather than looking directly into the camera. “They’ll be here any minute,” Derek continued, voice muffled by the angle of his head. “I just hope I have time to drop off the key where you can find it so this whole thing doesn’t turn into a complete waste of time.”

I clenched my fists in frustration. Even in his desperation, my brother remained unbelievably vague. Who would be there at any minute? And had this video been intended for me or for someone else within his intensely private life? The truth was, Derek had never even let slip the name of a single friend, so I had no idea who else he might be addressing.

My questions remained unanswered, but my brother did drop a few additional hints. “If you’re watching this,” he said, “then I’ve probably disappeared off the face of the Lupanet. In which case, just watching this video might put you at risk. If you’re connected to the internet right now, disconnect, copy the contents of this thumb drive someplace safe, then destroy both the computer and thumb drive. Right now. I mean it.”

“Paranoid much?” I countered even as I hastened to obey Derek’s instructions. Well, not the destroying part. I wasn’t going to ruin my mate’s hardware without his permission. And even though Derek had gone missing, I didn’t quite believe the mere act of plugging a thumb drive into a laptop put me and Sebastien at risk.

Still, I transferred files onto my phone’s SD card as the video continued to roll. Derek had entered the chamber of PO boxes by that point, his fingers fumbling with a key in the near darkness. “Don’t follow me without backup,” the male whispered, glancing over his shoulder as the barest echo of a slamming door carried through my tinny speakers. My brother swore, hesitated, then spoke directly into the camera once again.

“Sebastien Carter is a good egg. If you need help, go to him.”

Then the screen went dark. No indication of what Derek planned to do or where he intended to go. No data on whether he’d been snatched up or had made good on his escape and disappeared back into the anonymity of the city proper.

Well, that wasn’t quite right. I’d discovered the key to the PO box miles from my present location in a national forest where werewolves frequently hunted. Which meant my brother had made it off the college campus unscathed during the night in question…although who knew what had happened thereafter.

Transfer complete, the computer reported, breaking into my increasingly circular thoughts. I double-clicked on a few files, found strings of numbers and letters that my tired brain refused to comprehend. It was definitely time to call it a night.

Still, Derek had been single-mindedly intent upon his paranoia. So after sliding the SD card back into my phone, I carried the thumb drive into the bathroom and dropped it into a mouthwash bottle to deteriorate. Then I powered Sebastien’s computer all the way down, the room around me growing dark and still in an instant.

Finally, I sank back onto my mate’s bed, the day’s events crashing over me in a wave of exhaustion. I was alone with my wolf, my thoughts, and a hole in my belly that reminded me I was no longer part of any pack. What kind of werewolf hunted entirely alone?

Stay tuned for chapter three, coming up tomorrow! Or dive right into the entire book here.

Huntress Bound: Chapter 1

Ready for a peek into Huntress Bound? As a reminder, you’ll enjoy this book much more if you read Huntress Born first. That caveat aside…let’s dive right in!

I stood in Sebastien’s foyer and assessed my current predicament.

Unwitting mate who had no idea I was a werewolf? Check.

Tenuous permission to hunt for my brother within another clan’s territory? Check.

Cupcake from my beloved father to be eaten when I found a safe harbor? Check.

Pants? Okay, so I’d lost that one small item somewhere along the way. But otherwise, I seemed to be all set.

With everything else accounted for, I gazed up into my mate’s molten chocolate eyes and acted more bold than I felt. “Do you think,” I asked a human who I’d only met a few days earlier, “I could spend the night on your sofa?”

Sebastien’s scent gradually shifted as he looked me up and down, gladness at my unexpected arrival giving way to the first inkling of doubt as reality stretched out between us. And I had to admit that he had grounds for misgivings. After all, it was roughly one o’clock in the morning and I’d spent the last hour running through the city in lupine form. So in addition to those missing trousers, my feet were filthy, my hair was tangled, and I looked very much like my inner beast felt—exhilarated, tired, and very much wild.

I’d apparently chosen well, though, when I bound myself to this particular human in a fit of intense desperation earlier in the evening. Because the professor merely nodded and showed me inside, nuking a mug of water plus tea bag in the microwave before joining me on the sofa. Being cared for felt really good…so I squashed my inner chef’s urge to cringe at the irregular brewing method and instead settled in to enjoy the experience.

And, once again, Sebastien proved himself far more insightful than I’d expected. “Tea is healthier when you make it this way,” my companion explained professorially as he handed over the vessel. “More theanine and polyphenol. Try it.”

Obediently, I lifted the mug while struggling against my wolf’s impulse to scoot closer to our host so our skin might touch. The liquid was hot and aromatic, and my inner beast quieted as we discovered that our mate was right. The brew was tasty. Perhaps science won out over tradition after all…at least in this one specific case.

Unfortunately, Sebastien’s methodical mind wasn’t willing to let my unconventional appearance slide by without further comment. “Are you in trouble?” he asked when the silence between us had lengthened considerably. And even though the topic wasn’t one I’d hoped to broach tonight, the gravelly rumble of my companion’s voice was enough to make my inner wolf whimper with delight.

On the other hand, my human self was the one carrying on our end of this particular conversation, and I had no answer to the questions that were surely running through Sebastien’s mind as quickly as possible answers were streaming through mine. Should I explain away my pants-less arrival by saying I’d fallen out of a moving car and torn my clothing on the pavement? Been vomited upon by a drunken party-goer before tossing the sullied fabric? Lost my clothes in an ill-fated poker match? Was there any semi-believable explanation at all other than the fully implausible truth?

“Should I call the police?” Sebastien continued when I failed to so much as nod or shake my head in reply to his earlier question. “If somebody hurt you….”

And there was that wolf-like possessiveness I knew and loved. My mouth quirked up on one side as Sebastien’s aroma shifted yet again, this time turning steely and dangerous in response to thoughts about an imaginary tormentor.

No, Sebastien hadn’t chosen me as his mate when given the chance. Didn’t, in fact, possess a single clue about what a werewolf mate bond consisted of or that he’d become entangled in one against his will. But my companion did worry that I’d been harmed, and that concern soothed my lupine soul.

So I hastened to return the favor. “Nobody hurt me. I promise,” I answered, trying to figure out what else I could tell Sebastien without risking either of our skins. After all, despite being my not-quite-mate, the professor was still a human who wasn’t allowed to learn about shifter-kind under penalty of death. That particular sword of Damocles definitely put a damper on what I was willing and able to share.

I must have hesitated a bit too long. Because before I could come up with any answer at all, Sebastien cut me off. He sighed, pursed his lips, then let me off the hook. “You can’t tell me. I understand.”

He didn’t understand, though. Not really. Our mate bond wasn’t yet fully functional, but proximity still granted me a window into my companion’s thought processes. Via our half-formed tether, I could tell that the professor was confused, puzzled, disappointed…and that he also halfway believed he’d opened up his home to a mafia member whose family would invade with guns blazing before the night was out.

The mere notion startled words from my lips that I wished I could take back as soon as they’d been uttered. “I’m not a gangster,” I told him…only to realize a second too late that an ordinary human wouldn’t have been granted that trickle of insight into her companion’s thoughts.

In an effort to cover my butt, I segued straight into the first semi-believable lie that came to mind. “I wasn’t paying attention earlier, and I got stuck in an auto-locking door,” I started, warming to my tale as it spun out around me. “I would have told you when you first asked, but the result was just plain embarrassing. The door snagged on my pants as I was going out the back of a bar downtown, and I couldn’t figure out how to tear the fabric loose or get anyone’s attention. That place was so loud—it was crazy. So I wriggled my way out of my trousers and came here rather than walking bare-butted through the fray. Really, there’s no reason to call the police. I’m not hurt. I just need a place to stay for the night.”

I paused, then added, “And maybe the loan of a pair of pants.”

For half a second, I thought my mate had bought into my lie. After all, the tale didn’t involve supernatural beings or invisible bonds—surely it was more convincing than the truth?

But then Sebastien shook his head, chocolate eyes hardening into sharp-edged flint. “You can spend the night and borrow some pants,” he offered. “But please don’t lie to me again.”

Stay tuned for chapter 2 tomorrow. Or click here to get your own copy of Huntress Bound.

A huge thank you!

It’s been a while since I’ve thanked all of the amazing helpers who turn my keystrokes into a completed book. So I thought I’d make a new post of appreciation, just in case there are any authors who’d like to give my service providers a try.

First of all, I’ve added a new step to my editing process — a paid beta read by Claudia King. While she doesn’t list her rates on her website, she’s a whiz at streamlining and smoothing plots and making sure characters stay in character. If you feel like my new series is an engaging, smooth read — that’s all due to Claudia’s hard work.

Of course, I still send my final draft through a copy editor and Chereese Graves is still my nitpicker of choice. She’s fast, affordable, and easy to work with. Highly recommended!

Meanwhile, I’m trying out a new cover artist who I wholeheartedly recommend. Heather Hamilton-Senter worked with me every step of the way to create the exact cover that was floating around in my head, and she’s currently hard at work on creating Ember’s other faces for the additional books in the series.

And, of course, I’d be lost without my kind readers, both early reviewers who notice the last few errors that have slid past everyone else and those of you who read, share, and tell a friend. Thank you so much for reading — you are why I write.

Books 1 and 2 in the Wolf Legacy series are live!

I’m excited to announce that both book 1 and book 2 in the Wolf Legacy series are now available on Amazon! Here’s what early reviewers have to say about Huntress Born:

“A well-written, fun, great book that made me crave cupcakes” — PenKay

“Intrigue, suspense and bravado” — fullmetalflorist

“Kept me up way past my bedtime” — Olkonen

“Fantastic story” — happyreader10

“You won’t want to put it down!” — S McConathy

Book 1 is 99 cents for a limited time, and both books can be borrowed for free with Kindle Unlimited. So what are you waiting for? I hope you’ll check out Ember’s story and let me know what you think. Happy reading!

Huntress Born, Chapter 2 Scene 2

(Did you miss the first scenes? Click here to start at the beginning.)

My initial impulse was to take off in search of my erstwhile companion, but the oncoming vehicle had already purred to a halt before I could make my move. And as I stood eying the expanse of sleek, shiny metal, a tinted window rolled down to reveal a man twice as beautiful as the hunk of steel that surrounded him.

“You called an Uber?” the driver asked, sable hair floating down to partially obscure equally dark and mysterious eyes. Despite myself, I leaned in closer to harvest a sniff. Soap, smarts, confidence. The scent was intoxicating.

The driver was human, though, which in this era of extreme shifter secrecy meant he was also entirely off limits. Forcing my head away from the open window, I bit my lip and squashed the hum of lupine interest threatening to rise up through my human throat. Never mind the rules—there was no point in considering a relationship with a one-body when I had no intention of mating outside my pack.

My wolf whimpered within my stomach, chastened by the reminder. But it was the muffled shriek—just distant enough to be indiscernible to a normal human—that pulled me back to the present with a jolt. “I forgot something down there,” I said hurriedly before twisting my arm to gesture awkwardly at the suitcase by my feet. “Help yourself to a cupcake,” I added, “and I’ll be right back.”

Hoping the treat would keep my driver occupied while he waited, I took off at a run just barely slow enough to appear human. Then even that pretense fell away as shadows settled around my furless skin and shielded me from view. I’d made one mistake already in letting the stranger off scot-free. I had no intention of allowing him to harm a human on my watch.

Still, even as I raced down the dark alley intent upon rescue, my mind was attempting to assemble a puzzle whose pieces didn’t quite add up. I was new to this city and unfamiliar with local customs, but it made no sense for a shifter to be attacking females willy-nilly. After all, the Greenbriar alpha would be acting under the same mandate that guided Dad’s governance—the imperative to keep the peace within his pack while also ensuring werewolves remained hidden from prying human eyes. Moral implications aside, Chief Greenbriar would have to be an idiot to allow underlings to draw attention to themselves by breaking one-body laws.

Shivering despite the warmth of the night, I allowed my wolf to rise up and join me within our human skin at last. She wasn’t concerned about the inconsistencies presented by this city’s rotten underbelly. Instead, her attention latched onto the renegade werewolf who’d cornered a human woman in the shadowy enclave between a metal dumpster and an unyielding brick wall.

Despite the darkness, my shifter senses made the scene all too clear. And I winced as I realized the attacker had taken yet another step into the unthinkable during the moments he’d spent alone. Because he wasn’t a wolf now. Instead, the male was two-legged and naked, presumably having transformed right in front of the young woman he was currently attempting to maul.

Unsavory repercussions flew in front of my mind’s eye in one jumbled heap. There was no wiggle room in this particular law. No way to save a human who had been privy to a shifter’s transition from wolf to man. Instead, if this woman had been able to discern her attacker’s shift despite the darkness…well then, she’d have to be killed for the sake of werewolves everywhere.

I’d just have to hope the woman’s eyesight wasn’t up to the task.

The victim didn’t need night vision, though, to be terrified. Not when her attacker had ripped open the front of her blouse, his other hand fumbling with the buttons of her jeans. “You’re fertile,” the male murmured, his words more wolf than human. “Ripe, round, ready.”

And despite my former intentions not to make waves, I abruptly saw red. This wasn’t the way werewolves acted. Forget the mandate not to show ourselves in public, this was uncivilized.

Uncle Hunter would have punched out the attacker’s lights. Dad would have shifted into lupine form and torn into this stranger with tooth and claw. Right now, either option seemed like a good one to me.

But stumbling footsteps in the alley behind my back marked the approach of my Uber driver, his advance slow but steady. Darn his cute face, the guy was too chivalrous to allow me to be assaulted in a dark alley on his watch.

Which meant, unfortunately, I didn’t have the wiggle room to assault anyone in a dark alley either.

So, instead, I readied the talent I’d rejected earlier as akin to killing a mosquito with a sledgehammer. This time around, I figured the bug in question deserved to be squished. “Go home,” I ordered, my voice too quiet for either human to hear.

The stranger, though, not only heard but felt. Predictably, he jerked like a puppet whose stage manager had pulled the strings and bade him to dance. But the shifter didn’t flee immediately. Instead, the bastard tried to fight against my overt command, swiveling around to glare at me over one naked shoulder as he fought against the compulsion to obey.

Then the Uber driver was in the alley behind us. His flashlight shone across the wall and dumpster before glinting against the woman’s eyes…and that was all the illumination the latter needed to raise the canister of Mace she’d been clutching in one white-knuckled grip and spray it directly into her attacker’s face.

My shifter dominance would have done the trick eventually…but I have to admit the effects of pepper spray were far more satisfying. Because the attempted rapist yowled as if his victim had stuck a knife through his groin. Then he was running down the alley in the opposite direction, air humming with electricity as he shifted into lupine form just out of sight.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I crossed my fingers and hoped the two humans didn’t realize they’d just sighted the impossible—a person able to transform into the body of a wolf at will. Because if they put two and two together, the law said I had to put them down.

I definitely didn’t have enough cupcakes on hand to deal with that sort of catastrophe.

Want to keep reading? Huntress Born is free to borrow with Kindle Unlimited!

Huntress Born, Chapter 2 Scene 1

(Did you miss the first scenes? Click here to start at the beginning.)

When the stranger emerged from the shadows at last, an inexperienced human would have found him inconsequential. His lupine belly nearly scraped the pavement and each step was placed more cautiously than the last, producing the impression of an abused and tentative stray dog.

But, to a shifter, the threat was obvious. This wolf wasn’t skittishly searching for a handout. He was exercising the careful moderation of a practiced hunter. And, as the only living being within eye shot, I was definitely the one who’d been earmarked as prey.

Opening my mouth, I rolled a great gulp of air across my taste buds in an effort to analyze the stranger’s threat level. He wasn’t particularly dominant—I could smell that much from a distance. But despite his lack of alpha oomph, the male was crouched in readiness to spring while his teeth were plenty long enough to take down an average human.

Luckily, I was neither average nor human.

“I’m Ember Wilder-Young,” I said loudly, taking one long step forward as the stranger paused at the edge of the slim circle of illumination provided by the streetlight above my head. A werewolf shouldn’t have needed excessive volume to pick out words across the distance that separated us. But I opted to raise my voice anyway, mimicking the firm yet gentle dominance my father had embodied for my entire life. “I’ve got a ride coming and your alpha’s expecting me. So there’s no need to wait around. I’m good.”

I seemed to be telling everyone that I was good today…and no one was willing to take my assertion at face value either. Like Wolfie, this shifter snorted out a huff of air that called my sanity into question. But then he lifted his muzzle and inhaled deeply through his moist, black nose.

I could see the moment the stranger caught my scent. The breeze, such as it was, had been blowing in the opposite direction from the beginning or this wolf would have gathered all salient details before even stepping out of the shadows. Now he froze, head cocked to one side as he tried to figure out how a woman like me came to be in a place like this.

“You smell like rich, irresistible chocolate to any red-blooded shifter male,” one of my cousins had told me the day before. “You’re nuts to leave pack lands unprotected.”

Other family members had chimed in with similar admonitions, trying to keep me at home where I was safe. But I had reasons to be here and I definitely wasn’t going to let the first starry-eyed shifter with more libido than sense send me scurrying back to Haven with my tail between my legs.

So I stood my ground as the wolf drifted closer, his eyes gleaming and the first hint of slobber trailing across pink gums. Yuck. Apparently even the mention of an absent alpha wasn’t enough to get me off the hook this time around. Time to come up with a plan B.

Let me, my wolf murmured underneath my skin. She wanted to speak with my tongue, to order the less dominant wolf to stand down. The compulsion would have worked, too…and yet I hesitated, shifting nervously from foot to foot rather than reaching for our most obvious line of defense.

Because I’d learned the hard way that bending a weaker wolf around my little finger with a simple verbal command wasn’t as painless as it appeared from the dominant side. Instead, being controlled by a stronger shifter was akin to listening to nails scrape across a blackboard while watching someone vomit out great big gobs of stinky stomach contents…all while dangling upside down over a deep abyss that ended in a trough of voracious alligators. There was no long-term damage associated with the compulsion, but the ordeal itself was certainly unpleasant in the moment.

So, yes, I could bark this growling shifter into line…but should I? What if my initial impression had been wrong and the male wasn’t busy stalking women who’d made the unfortunate mistake of walking alone at night? What if I was merely on edge from my recent trip and this male intended to remind me not to traipse through someone else’s territory without permission?

When in doubt, don’t, I decided, opting against forcing my opponent to back down the easy way. Instead, I stood a little taller and gazed directly into the wolf’s greenish eyes. “You really don’t want to mess with me,” I promised too quietly for a human to hear.

Then, relaxing my hold over my own inner beast, I allowed the stranger to see a hint of the animal hidden beneath my human skin.

She might have been smaller than my opponent’s animal, but my wolf was no lightweight. Instead, she was twice as dominant as our aggressor, twice as able to stand up for herself in either a physical or verbal battle. As intimidation tactics went, showing a glimpse of her behind my eyes was akin to a war-like nation threatening to drop an atomic bomb.

And, sure enough, plan C worked like a charm. Drool dried up in an instant as the shifter swiveled without a sound. Then he was heading back into the shadows from which he’d come, not a single yip of protest reaching my ears.

There was nothing like a stronger force to make a budding bully back down.

“And my Uber’s almost here too,” I noted, glancing down at my phone. I’ll admit my voice was a little smug as I watched headlights flicker across the wall behind me. Already, I was thinking three steps in advance, counting my remaining cupcakes as I imagined doling them out to each person I’d need to charm before I could lay my head on a pillow and drift into rejuvenating sleep.

One for the Uber driver, one for the Greenbriar pack leader, one for my eventual host. Luckily, I had precisely three cupcakes left…not counting my own treat smashed between clean undies and a work blouse, that is. Perfect.

Which is when I picked up a sound from the direction in which the wolf had fled. A wolf’s growl. A woman’s gasp.

Meanwhile, the air around me filled with the sharp scent of overwhelming fear. Perhaps I shouldn’t have given that wolf so much benefit of the doubt after all….

Click here to read the next scene. Or grab a copy here now.

Huntress Born, Chapter 1 Scene 2

(Did you miss the first scene? Click here to start at the beginning.)

The Uber app reported that my ride was still several miles out and my stomach ached with the enforced distance from pack. So I sank down onto the curb and succumbed to that most lupine of yearnings—the necessity of calling home.

“Ember.” The voice of my father—who wasn’t biologically related but who was very much my alpha—crept over me like the scent of a newly mown meadow. Shoulders that had hunched up around my ears for the last eighteen hours drifted gradually downward and I eyed the cupcake bin strapped to the top of my suitcase with renewed longing.

Not yet, I chided myself. Hearing Wolfie say my name might have made me feel at home, but I hadn’t actually reached a safe harbor. Which meant it wasn’t time for my much-anticipated treat. Not quite yet.

“Dad,” I answered instead, trying to sound like a capable twenty-five-year-old woman rather than like a scared little girl. Despite my fanged alter-ego, this was the first time I’d left Haven under my own volition. No wonder I felt as jumpy as a newborn colt.

And my father must have sensed the worry imbuing that lone word. Because he dove right into the heart of the issue with all the single-mindedness of a born wolf. “Trouble?” he asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” My tone was firm but I knew Wolfie heard the lie in my voice as easily as I’d picked out the pride and affection in his. So I strove to make the next sentence true by recalling the way the scent of fur had faded almost as soon as it entered my nostrils. “I’m fine,” I added, focusing on the fact that the trouble really was gone. I had handled the potential problem. So my initial words weren’t really a falsehood after all.

And the evasion seemed to work. Unfortunately, my father moved on to a question that was much harder to sidestep. “Are you eating your cupcake yet?” Wolfie asked next, his deep rumble the lupine equivalent of a relaxing purr.

This time I hesitated, unwilling to fudge a question so tightly tied to a beloved childhood ritual. Because Dad had been baking gift cupcakes ever since I’d reached my teens, using the unique pastries to celebrate hurdles overcome and milestones achieved. In today’s case, the pastry Wolfie had concocted with his own two hands—unlike the more numerous ones I’d made myself—was tucked away deep within my suitcase, a single-serving bin hiding what was bound to be a work of art.

I hadn’t even seen my present yet. Was saving that particular boost for the moment when I was finally able to let down my guard and relax into my bed tonight. I wanted to eat the gift with care while feeling the pack bond encircle me just like my father’s arms had done so many times before. I wanted to use Dad’s cupcake to remember I was loved.

So, in the end, I didn’t even attempt a lie as I answered my father’s second question of the evening. “Not yet,” I admitted. Then, remembering my supposed independence and the very real distance separating me from my home pack, I added: “But you can go to sleep anyway. I have this covered.”

Wolfie hummed acknowledgement of my honesty, but that didn’t mean he was willing to let me off the hook just yet. “If you’re not eating, then I’m not sleeping,” my father murmured, his words warming my belly far more than a mere morsel of chocolate might have done.

But then the silence between us turned brittle, and I sighed, knowing which often-repeated conversation was coming next. “You don’t have to say it,” I interjected, cutting my father off at the pass. “This might be a wild-goose chase and Derek might not want to be found. If my brother really intended to get to know me, he would have come to visit in person rather than sending cryptic messages that resulted in me crossing territory lines. That all makes just as much sense as it did the first time you said it…but I’m willing to take the chance. I can’t leave my brother dangling if he’s really in trouble.”

“I know,” Dad rumbled, his voice just as warm now as it had been a moment earlier. He didn’t correct my semantics, either. Didn’t mention that Derek was only a half-brother or that our shared mom had chosen to abandon me at birth. Instead, Dad’s next words proved that my adopted father, at least, would always be on my side even if he disapproved of my current actions. “That wasn’t what I was going to say at all.”

The phone went silent as my father paused, and I closed my eyes to better sense his presence. Despite the hundreds of miles that separated us, merely breathing in tandem revitalized exhausted muscles and soothed traveling jitters. I would have gladly sat there all night, soaking up Wolfie’s strength and reveling in the connection of pack.

But I had places to go. Brothers to meet. Alphas to charm. So, at last, I prodded my father back onto track. “Dad?”

Immediately, Wolfie’s deep rumble filled my ears once again. “No matter what happens, Buttercup, I’ll be here to back you up. You can always come home.”

A human twenty-something would have responded with an agitated eye roll. There were even some shifters who might have felt stifled by an adopted parent’s clear obsession with their continued well-being.

But I wasn’t one of the latter. For me, family was everything. As such, I had every intention of finding the half-brother I’d never before met, making sure he wasn’t in trouble, then high-tailing it back the way I’d come as quickly and carefully as possible.

Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to bask in familial reassurances. Because the scent of fur had returned, filling the air more strongly than ever. And this time, it was all I could do to swallow down a lupine growl.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said instead, disconnecting the call without waiting for a reply and slipping my phone into a pants pocket for safekeeping. Then clambering to my feet, I stared out into the darkness in search of a wolf.

Stay tuned for another installment tomorrow. Or grab a copy here now.

 

Huntress Born, Chapter 1 Scene 1

Ready to dive into a new werewolf adventure? Rather than me telling you all about my newest werewolf book, you can simply start reading below.

***

I stepped off the bus into a darkened city full of human muggers, territorial werewolves, and countless other scoundrels. But I was prepared. I’d brought cupcakes.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t yet time to eat those cupcakes. Instead, I keyed an Uber request into my phone with one hand while dragging my rolling suitcase clear of the massive wheels with the other. Then I froze as my inner animal abruptly straightened onto full alert.

Wolf. The hint of fur, musk, and testosterone warred for pride of place with urban odors, and I found myself turning in a tight circle in search of the source of the barely present aroma. If my inner beast wasn’t mistaken—and she rarely was—then this wasn’t merely a shifter in human form sliding seamlessly through the city streets the way I hoped to do. No, a fur-form werewolf was nearby, running four-legged in a space where only two-leggers belonged.

Hairs lengthened on the backs of my arms as my inner beast responded to danger by requesting ownership of our shared body. We were female, far from our pack, and boasted no recourse save our own lupine fangs. It was time to pull out those ivory weapons and show this stranger how capable we were of fighting back.

But instead of obliging my animal’s request, I merely stalked to the edge of the lighted circle that marked the bus drop-off zone. Then, drawing extra sensory assistance from my inner wolf, we peered together into the asphalt shadows.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Even in human form, it was easy to pick out the staccato beat of a leaky faucet inside the closed Greyhound station behind our back. Grumbling cars rolled past one block over while human laughter emanated from what smelled like a bar further down the street. But nothing pointed to danger more severe than tired businessmen enjoying a night out on the town. Nothing suggested that my initial impulse—the urge to track down a wolf who possessed the scent signature of a stalker—was anything more than inexperienced-traveler jitters.

This is unknown territory, I reminded myself. Maybe smelling a wolf here is no big deal.

After all, there were several hundred times as many people per square mile in this city compared to the rural enclave where I’d grown up. Presumably, there were several hundred times as many werewolves too.

Still, given the legal imperative against displaying our animal skins to the one-body world, surely it made no sense for a werewolf to be wandering these city streets on four furry feet. No sense…unless the shifter in question was hunting a very specific sort of prey.

Prey like me.

Back home, I would have responded to imminent danger by shifting and running for higher ground. In the process, I’d tug at the pack bond that sat invisible yet ever-present at my fingertips then would laugh with exhilaration as dozens of uncles and aunts and cousins came sprinting up to join me. Together, we’d been known to roust troublesome werewolves away from our borders in less time than it took to whip up a batch of buttercream frosting.

Here though, I was deep in the heart of Greenbriar territory, an invader rather than a defender…from a legal standpoint at least. I had no permission to be present. No permission to walk these streets in search of the brother I’d never before met and who I only hoped was still alive. As such, the smart response would have been to keep my head down and to stay out of trouble. I couldn’t go haring off after a total stranger based on nothing more than a whim combined with a trick of the light.

Chase him. Find him, my inner beast countered. She urged me to blow off human worries and slip into the skin of our wolf. To follow our instincts and run. Now, she added impatiently.

But before we could duke out our disagreement, the distinctive odor of wolf began receding into the distance. Within seconds, the hint of fur had faded to nothing, hidden beneath the overwhelming aromas of rotting garbage and over-applied perfume.

Perhaps the danger had never been present in the first place other than in my own over-tired brain.

And as the scent trail dissipated, I was once again left alone in a strange city with only a few possessions at my disposal. A suitcase, four cupcakes, and a phone that promised connection to my beloved pack mates. The combination would have to be enough.

Stay tuned for another installment tomorrow. Or grab a copy here now.

 

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First Blood

This fall, I’ll be launching a new series that returns to a character from the Wolf Rampant series…twenty-four years later than when you saw her last. Ember is now all grown up and facing new challenges. But before you learn more about those trials and tribulations, I thought you might enjoy a story from the middle of the intervening period, when Ember is twelve years old and Wolfie, for the first time, flubs the job of fatherhood…

The door slamming, the disgruntled looks, the surly responses. Wolf Young — aka Wolfie, biggest baddest werewolf in the middle Appalachians — had known accepting the job of pack leader would be difficult. He just hadn’t realized his archnemesis would be his own daughter.

“I don’t see why you can’t just leave me alone!” Ember emoted. The preteen’s scent exuded pain, confusion, and sadness as she slipped out from under her father’s arm and rushed away into the night. What the heck? He’d only asked her if she needed any help with her homework.

“I think she needs a little time,” Terra — his mate — explained gently. “You know she can’t get into any trouble here in Haven. Come back to bed.”

So Wolfie obeyed…but he didn’t have to like it.

***

The next morning, the big, bad, overworked alpha blew off the pile of paperwork demanding his immediate attention and slipped outside in lupine form. Ember was only twelve years old, far too young to be drawn into a shifter mating dance. But if she was sneaking out to see boys, Wolfie intended to do something about it…something that involved ripping off arms and ensuring that certain males never touched his innocent offspring ever again.

Except his only child’s scent trail didn’t lead in any such direction. Instead, Ember’s mossy aroma drew the pack leader across the village green and around a corner until he stopped in front of the community dining hall. His daughter had snuck away at midnight…to eat scrambled eggs?

“Seen Ember around?” he asked the pack member in charge as he stalked in the open front door. Wolfie’s voice was scratchy from his recent shift back to human form but his eyes didn’t miss a single detail as he scanned the shifters cooking, eating, and having an all-around good time. Nope, no daughter here.

Acacia — an old friend and a loyal pack mate — ignored her alpha’s nudity and stopped swiping at a table top so she could join him at the door. “Your daughter’s been helping out here every day this week, but she left fifteen minutes ago.” The female paused, raised one eyebrow. “You know Ember’s virtually living in our guest room, right?”

Wolfie knew nothing of the sort. His twelve-year-old daughter had moved out…and he hadn’t even gotten a memo?

Sure, he’d been traveling a lot lately, trying to keep the neighboring packs from going crazy as they divided up formerly neutral territory among themselves. Meanwhile, his mate had been keeping the home fires burning in his absence…not so easy when Haven welcomed every lone werewolf who nosed around their borders despite the unfortunate tendency of the packless to rebel against even the slightest show of authority.

So he and his spouse had both been distracted. But how could they have missed Ember getting so upset she willingly chose to abandon their loving home?

“She’s an excellent baker and a good kid,” Acacia continued, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. “She’s just figuring out who she is right now, and that means rebelling against her parents. Give her a little time and she’ll come home.”

A little time. Wolfie tried to accept the well-meant advice and put it to good use. But now that he’d noticed the chink in his family’s armor, that particular crack yawned wider by the moment until it turned into a gaping canyon separating him from the child who held his heart. He couldn’t let Ember slink off into the distance like a packless loner. He simply couldn’t.

***

So the big, bad, worried alpha continued tracking his daughter through their vibrant village. At the community garden, Wolfie was informed that Ember had been helping weed and harvest for the last three weeks…and that he’d just missed her today. A trio of boys playing basketball barely escaped Wolfie’s wrath when they explained that the mossy scent coating one male’s arm emanated from Ember’s competitive streak rather than from any amorous advances. His daughter had won the game of Horse…and despite that athletic side trip she was still ten minutes ahead of her doting father.

Wolfie wanted to be impressed by his daughter’s abilities for stealth when he lost her trail briefly in the woods. But, mostly, he was just growing more and more worried that the small splinter in his family’s happiness might actually turn out to be the source of an infected, gangrenous wound.

Plus, there was a scent of blood on the air now. Just the barest hint, as if his daughter had scratched her arm up against a sharp stick and ignored the wound. Still, the aroma was enough to raise Wolfie’s ruff and bring a growl up his furry throat. No way was his daughter going to be wandering around injured on his watch.

So he cheated. Pulling up the pack bond that provided information on every member of his clan, Wolfie tugged on his daughter’s thread…and soon ended up tracing her right back to his own front door.

Ember was home. Wolfie slammed inside without worrying about scratched paint or bent hinges. It was past time to put this silliness to bed.

***

“She’s in her room,” Terra greeted her mate as he walked inside. Then, glancing down at Wolfie’s dirt-streaked but otherwise naked skin, his mate added, “You might want to put on some clothing before you talk to her.”

Probably a good idea. Wolfie accepted a shirt and pants from his life partner, managing to drag on both while bounding toward his daughter’s room without pause. Opening her door without knocking, the placating words he’d managed to pull together on his descent from the mountain slipped right out of his mind as he was hit by a sensation that stopped him in his track — the overwhelming odor of large quantities of spilled blood.

“Buttercup, where are you hurt?” Wolfie demanded, pulling his daughter off her bed and patting her down with terrified hands. During his long, useless chase through pack lands, how had he managed to miss the magnitude of Ember’s injury? How could he have thought this death wound was merely a scratch? Some alpha werewolf he was.

“Ow, Dad, stop it!” the girl grumbled, wriggling out of his grasp. She moved easily, no signs of broken bones. And yet…was his daughter hunching over more than usual? Was she guarding an injured stomach from further attack?

A gut wound was seriously bad news, and Wolfie found himself falling to his knees at his daughter’s feet. “Ember, please. We’ll bring you to your Uncle Dale and he can fix whatever’s broken….”

Instead of answering him directly, his daughter merely rolled her eyes and raised her voice. “Mom!” she demanded. “Will you get Dad out of my room? And explain to him why I don’t need a doctor?”

But no one answered. Father and daughter paused, cocked their heads in mirrored synchrony, then together lifted their chins to sniff at the air. Terra had left the building. Wolfie was on his own.

***

Sighing, Ember squared her shoulders and opened her mouth. “You’re just going to nag at me until I talk, aren’t you?”

Nag? Big, bad alpha werewolves didn’t nag. But, at the moment, Wolfie would have agreed to anything coming out of his daughter’s mouth. So he nodded slowly and reached forward to take one of her hands between both of his own. Thankfully, she allowed the touch.

Still, Ember hesitated, turned her face away, shuffled her feet. The problem was evidently worse than he’d imagined. Could a twelve-year-old become pregnant? Had his usually pacific daughter started a war with another clan? Did she possess a gambling addiction that would draw mobsters to their door seeking immediate retribution?

Not a problem, Wolfie decided. He’d simply unleash his inner wolf and tear into the opposition until they left his family alone. Easy peasy.

Okay, so maybe he should try words first. So, gathering his courage around him, Wolfie tipped up his daughter’s chin until their eyes met. “Tell me.”

And then the words came gushing out. “I’m starting my period, okay? It hurts, and it’s yucky, and the boys can all smell it, which is so embarrassing I think I’m gonna die.” She sniffed, a lone tear rolling down one cheek and dripping off her chin. And for one split second, she was his little girl again, waiting to be drawn into loving arms that could heal all ills.

But then Ember’s eyes flashed in a way that was all woman, and she pushed Wolfie so hard he rocked back onto his heels. “Do you know what it’s like having hormones trick my wolf into thinking there’s danger around every bend? To have no control over my own shifts? It’s so, totally unfair that you don’t have to deal with this. I hate you!”

Then, rising, his daughter prepared to restart their earlier chase.

***

“Wait.”

Wolfie didn’t think the angry almost-woman would obey him, but she did. Pausing in the doorway, his little girl looked back with a scared, confused wolf barely hidden behind human eyes.

“You can’t fix it, Dad,” she told him, angrily, coldly. But she wanted him to. Ember so badly wanted her father to snap his fingers and change things back to the way they’d always been that her body leaned subtly forward, her fingers moving through the air in search of a thread that would pull them bodily into their shared past.

Well, that wasn’t happening. But Wolfie could instead propel them toward an even better future.

“I hear you’ve been in charge of the pastries in the dining hall lately,” he told her, rising to his feet more gracefully than he’d descended. “Care to show me how it’s done?”

Ember hesitated, weight shifting from foot to foot. He could tell she thought that he was scared of a little girl blood. She was pissed at him for changing the subject. But a chance to show off newfound skills — what competitive werewolf wouldn’t fall for such a trap?

For a second, though, Wolfie imagined he’d lost the gamble. Anger filled the air, along with the scent of fur that suggested an impending shift. But then Ember pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “What do you want to make?”

“Cupcakes,” Wolfie answered quickly. Then, remembering what his mate had told him about the cure to feminine ills, he added, “Chocolate cupcakes.”

Which is how a big, bad alpha werewolf came to be covered in flour and cocoa when a delegation from the least friendly neighboring pack arrived for an unscheduled meet and greet. But Wolfie wasn’t worried. Male tempers he could handle. As long as Ember was smiling, all was right in his world.

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