Aimee Easterling's Blog, page 3

Wolf’s Curse sneak peek

If you haven’t read Wolf Trap yet, this post contains spoilers!! Please stop reading now and grab your copy of book one while it’s marked down to 99 cents.

Ready to continue Tru’s adventure? Read on…

***

Chapter 1

There’s nothing quite like grave robbing to ruin a first date. Not that Drake and I were on a formal date. And not that I intended to dig around in my husband’s grave when we set off up the hill.

The landscape, however, was ominous from the start. Above us, the branches of winter-bare trees curled like a giant’s fingers. And our choice not to bring flashlights was cast into doubt by the new moon’s complete absence, not even a sliver brightening the sky.

No wonder my foot caught on a root. But before I could do more than tilt off balance, Drake’s hand caught my elbow, stabilizing my balance while provoking a different sort of upheaval beneath my skin.

“You’re cold,” he rasped, misreading the cause of my shivers.

I shook my head then layered words atop the gesture since it was too dark for even shifter eyes to read body language. “No. Just concerned about Lynette.”

And that was true, if not the entire truth. Despite being the one who had browbeat me into setting up this outing, our sixteen-year-old ward had decided it would take way too much effort to climb up to the graveyard where Ambrose had been buried. Instead, she’d invited herself into a game of tag being played by four young werewolves down where we’d parked our cars.

Which, in a way, was good. Lynette needed friends. She deserved a normal childhood to counteract the magical hands that tended to scorch those she touched if she wasn’t careful.

Still, I couldn’t help voicing my worries now. “She wasn’t wearing gloves and it looked like she was going to win. If she burns somebody, they’ll bite back.”

Drake’s growl promised immediate, bloody retribution. “They wouldn’t dare. Plus,” he continued, his rasp warming, “Lynette’s control is improving. You’re a good influence.”

The final words, aimed in my direction, felt like a caress. Despite his job, despite his voice, Drake was a protector of those he cared about. Lynette, the Strays…

…Me.

The question was, could I allow myself to be included in that list when my previous leap into a romantic relationship had proven so disastrous? When I now had a teenager depending on me to protect and guide her out of an equally traumatic past?

I shivered for a reason other than Drake’s delicious proximity, then I returned to the conversational point before my companion could remark upon my bodily reaction. “The influence between me and Lynette flows primarily in the other direction. Did she tell you we went clothes shopping last week while you were in Montana?”

Despite my best intentions, I found myself picking at the sliver of bared skin where my sweater V’ed down in a very unladylike manner. The choice of wardrobe had been Lynette’s, and I’d accepted her fashion advice because doing so made her smile. Plus, as I’d reminded myself half a dozen times since then, what would have been a societal faux pas in the time I hailed from was now considered not risqué in the least.

Still, I found myself hoisting the neck of the sweater upward, which had the unfortunate side effect of producing a cold breeze down my back. And this time, Drake didn’t even bother asking if I was cold. Wool swirled around my shoulders, bringing with it his signature lemon-meringue-pie aroma plus a hug-like warmth. Clever fingers buttoned the pea coat beneath my chin to hold it in place, cloak-like. He didn’t fumble once despite the pitch black.

“I’ll speak to Lynette about being pushy,” he murmured into my ear, and I shivered even though I was now toasty warm inside his overcoat.

With an effort, I leaned my body in the direction it didn’t want to lean—away from the tantalizing werewolf. Drake had left the relationship ball in my court and I wasn’t quite ready to pick it up again.

So I stuck to words rather than embracing the physical attraction spinning between us. “You don’t like the clothes?”

“Your clothes are your business. Not hers. Not mine.” A pause, then a purr replaced Drake’s usual rasp. “But, yes, I like what you’re wearing very much. My coat. What’s under my coat.”

I could almost taste the words he hadn’t added. What’s under the sweater and skirt beneath my coat…

Now it wasn’t just the extra garment raising my core temperature and I could no longer talk myself into holding the relationship line I’d drawn in the sand. Yes, for Lynette’s sake we needed to make sure the volcano I could feel building between us didn’t erupt in ways that would fling burning relationship lava onto our ward. Yes, it would be so easy to lose myself in the eruption before I’d really found myself.

Still, despite the darkness, my right hand had no problem finding his left hand. Skin grazed skin then I let my fingers slide between his fingers as if they were coming home to rest.

Perhaps I was ready to bounce that relationship ball just a little bit off the ground after all.

“Okay?” Drake asked, even though I was the one who’d reached out and touched him. Even though the intimacy level of our contact was moderate enough that grade schoolers wouldn’t have blushed.

“I want this,” I admitted, resisting the impulse to do more than interweave our fingers, “but I still wake up in cold sweats, afraid I’ll bind myself to an alpha werewolf and harm not only myself but also Lynette and Neko.”

Neko was the kitten Drake and I also shared unofficial custody of, the uninspired name (cat in Japanese) making me feel grounded to my forgotten past every time I spoke it. The cat in question was currently napping in the pocket of the coat Drake had lent me, and I let my unoccupied hand slide between layers of fabric to cup his furry warmth. In response, Neko stretched a silky back against my palm, the contact soothing away some but not all of the tremors memories aroused inside me.

Drake was the one who soothed away the others as he had before and likely would again. “I don’t want anything you aren’t ready for.”

“You’re content with this?” I raised up our hands, palms pressed close together.

“More than content,” he rasped. “Thank you for inviting me along tonight.”

The truth was, Lynette had stolen my phone and hit the send button before I could talk myself out of deleting the message requesting Drake join us here. The laughter Lynette and I had shared as I threatened to ground her for life colored my subsequent words now. “Very romantic, taking you to visit my husband’s grave.”

“First.”

“First?”

“First husband.”

First husband and first alpha werewolf who’d expressed a romantic interest in me. Ambrose Reed had lured me halfway around the world as a picture bride, had intended to kill me, and had instead stuck me in suspended animation for over a century.

That suspended animation—helped along by the spirit of my sword parasol—had wiped out most of my memory. So I didn’t actually know many of the facts involved in Ambrose’s awfulness. Couldn’t dig up any recollection of how Drake and I had met, although he’d filled in those blanks verbally. Didn’t know my real name or much of my past.

Which was part of why I was here. I hoped visiting Ambrose’s grave might revive some sliver of knowledge about my history. Well, I’d come for that, plus the childish intention of stomping on the earth Ambrose had been planted beneath while celebrating his belated demise.

To that end, my footsteps quickened as we stepped out of the trees and into a clearing on the hilltop. Out from under the bare-branched canopy, I could see just a little better, enough to make out headstones dotting grass that someone likely hiked up to mow once or twice a season. In the near darkness, it was hard to tell where the newest grave might lie.

“This way.” Drake, as usual, was prepared. He turned us south, his hand guiding me as if my arm was a boat’s rudder. The gesture should have been awkward but it wasn’t. Instead, I imagined we were dancing. An old-style gavotte perhaps, the sort that ended with a kiss.

My cheeks burned by the time Drake’s free arm lashed out in front of me. Fox reflexes kept me from losing my balance and fox-assisted eyes let me see, one moment later, what my escort was reacting to.

The ground in front of us wasn’t grassy lawn like what covered up other grave sites. Instead, a hole deep enough so I couldn’t make out the bottom and long enough to lie down in yawned before us.

Someone had dug up my husband’s grave.

 

***

​Chapter 2

For one split second, fear gripped me like a cold hand around my throat. Memories flirted with my consciousness, memories of Ambrose using my marriage vow to turn me into a willing participant in the draining of every drop of blood out of my body.

Then I swallowed past fear. Whatever had happened to his grave, Ambrose was dead. This was a puzzle to be deciphered, nothing else.

To that end, I focused on mundanities. “Do you mind if I destroy your night vision?”

Rather than answering aloud, Drake’s phone flared into flashlight mode, illuminating the pit and the mound of earth on the far side while making the dark forest around us impenetrable. The benefit we’d gained by walking up here in the dark was lost.

Which was fine. We’d gotten permission to spend time in this territory. Still, danger itched at the back of my neck as I peered down into a hole as deep as I was tall. At the bottom, the lid of a plain wooden coffin lay askew, the slant just sufficient to prove grave robbing had been the cause of the digging while not allowing us to see inside.

“This isn’t fresh,” Drake rasped, kneeling down to crumble dirt between his fingers. “It’s been rained on but it’s not wet.”

Which meant whoever had dug this hole likely wasn’t waiting in the darkness to pounce on us. Still…

The fear that had flitted through me a moment earlier solidified into a solid thrum of urgency. Our ward was running around in the darkness down where we’d parked our vehicles. The parents of the shifters she played with were inside nearby buildings, but a lot could happen before a teenager would think to call for help…

I yanked out my phone and punched the number beside Lynette’s face. It rang and rang and rang, long enough for my rushing thoughts to coalesce into images that would provide fodder for new nightmares.

Whoever had dug up Ambrose’s grave could capture Lynette. Cage her the way she’d already been caged for over a year, picking partially healed scabs off the wounds of her earlier emotional abrasions. Her hands could be turned into weapons. Her…

“What’s up?” Our ward was out of breath when she finally answered, but I could hear the smile in her voice. She was fine and I didn’t want to scare her. Still, my words came out terse.

“I want you to get into one of our cars and lock the doors.” Because, yes, there were adult shifters in houses nearby…but who could say whether one of them might be responsible for the grave robbing?

Immediately, the joy in Lynette’s voice disappeared. We were back in neighboring cells, preparing for unknown danger. “I’m not leaving the kids behind,” she bit out before calling in her playmates.

And even though I wanted Lynette to be able to act like a child, her presence of mind still made me proud. “Good work,” I told her, talking fast and low before the young shifters got close enough to hear me. “Turn it into a new game. Clown car. See how many of you can cram inside and…”

My mind went blank. How exactly was it fun for tweens and teens to sit cooped up in a too-small vehicle while waiting for us to return and rescue them?

Drake’s fingers curled around my fingers, tapping out a question. Could he add his two cents’ worth? I nodded and he raised my phone up to his lips.

“My spare key is in a magnetic case beneath the passenger-side rear wheel well,” he rasped. “Take them on a joy ride.”

I had to stand on tiptoe and lean into Drake’s warm bulk to get close enough for the mic to pick me up now. The tremor that ran through me as a result made my voice breathy when I told Lynette, “Just a sec.”

I managed to firm up my tone by the time I addressed Drake. “Lynette already has a key to my car and it’s already scratched up from that mailbox I didn’t quite clear last month. She barely has her license and your car is…”

Drake’s car was new and shiny and part of the image he projected for his job. Executioner—an alpha whose entire role was to be so imposing that even pack leaders toed the line of good behavior rather than risking his wrath.

But Drake seemed to understand a different point than the one I was making. “My car is armored,” he rasped as if we were in complete agreement. Then, into the phone. “Go now. Stay on the line until the car is moving. Don’t stop driving until I call you back.”

***

With the kids taken care of, I couldn’t put off the secrets of my husband’s grave any longer. But here too, Drake had other ideas.

“I’ll check it out,” he offered as I eyed the bottom of the hole with the same sort of enthusiasm I’d applied to Lynette’s shopping-trip suggestion that I don head-to-toe spandex. The earthen walls weren’t sheer, so it wasn’t as if I risked getting stuck down there. I just wasn’t quite ready to see whatever was underneath that askew lid.

Still, I shook my head. “No. I need to do this.”

Drake growled very low but he didn’t stop me. Just turned my phone into flashlight mode and handed it back so he could use his for its primary purpose—communication.

Over the month we’d spent as part-time housemates and full-time co-guardians, I’d come to learn that Drake preferred texting everyone other than me and Lynette. But he must have sensed my need for his piercing eyes to stay trained on me now because he dialed up his apprentice the same way I’d contacted our ward.

“Drake,” Kira answered, voice redolent with amusement I could almost smell as I picked my way down the sloping incline. I was glad of shifter hearing because interest in the conversation above me kept me from obsessing over the coffin lid I was aiming for, a plain surface made of what appeared to be un-sanded lumber roughly screwed together. The gap between lid and coffin was too narrow to peer through, but I wouldn’t have to wrest the entire lid up to see what was going on inside. Because it appeared as if someone had already hacked one board free from the others, making it easy to access the end of the coffin closest to my feet.

“Let me guess,” Kira continued, her perky voice a stark contrast to what I imagined lay beneath that loose board I should have moved out of the way already. “You’re going to pull me away from date night to go strike fear into the hearts of scary werewolves with my wit and beauty.”

“Close,” Drake rasped. “I need you to meet up with a car full of kids and bring them to the Reed cemetery immediately.”

“Well, that’s nearby at least,” Kira answered. “Think I can make it back in time for the second movie? It’s a double-header tonight at the drive-in. You should come sometime. Bring your mate.”

I’d already grabbed onto the loose board, which wasn’t quite as loose as I’d thought it would be. But my hand stilled, waiting for Drake’s reply. Because Kira had misspoken. We weren’t mates.

I had only a single memory of a kiss between the two of us and that recollection was fuzzy around the edges, laid down before I started retaining my memory at the break of each dawn. Soon thereafter, I’d made it clear that I wasn’t ready for a romantic relationship and Drake hadn’t pushed the issue.

Still, even when he was out of town rather than just down the hall at Rosa’s house, we’d talked on the phone every night, ostensibly for Lynette’s sake but often about topics that had nothing to do with our ward. Drake had dropped everything to meet me here even though he was in the middle of a job currently, and he’d made no complaint when the hem of his expensive coat dragged in the dirt while protecting my back.

So I didn’t wiggle the board to free it from the earth that had slumped on top of it. Just crouched there inside my husband’s grave and peered up at the alpha werewolf whose gaze, even from this distance, warmed me. His eyebrows shot up as if he was asking a question.

I wasn’t quite sure what I was agreeing to—a simple double date or mating this man who enticed me so thoroughly I often forgot my reasons for not succumbing to his overtures. Either way, I nodded. And the scent of lemon-meringue pie abruptly overwhelmed the must of dirt and decay.

“We’d like that,” Drake answered. “Later. Right now, there are five scared kids in a car who require an armed escort.”

After that, he hung up and dialed Lynette again, giving her instructions on where to meet Kira while passing along the latter’s number. And even though I longed to bask in the near contact of eyes focusing unwaveringly on me, I forced myself to focus on something very different.

Now wasn’t the time for basking. If I wanted to see what kind of future Drake and I might create together, I first needed to deal with the most unpleasant part of my past.

To that end, I jerked the loose board a little harder. This time, it came free, allowing a cascade of dirt to spill down into the homemade coffin.

I expected to find my dead husband’s face there, or perhaps his skull. Rates of human decomposition weren’t something I was intimately familiar with.

What I found was worse. No face. No skull. No evidence at all that my murderous husband was dead.

***

​Chapter 3

It wasn’t the most rational reaction, but I abruptly needed to know if this rough wooden box was a mere decoy. So I fell down onto my belly and thrust my arm through the opening where the board had been, straining into the darkness.

Nothing. Nothing. Then my fingers hit something hard and Ambrose’s booming laugh carried previously forgotten memory back into full focus.

“Your blood is delicious.” He’d stood over me, one of the hundreds of glass vials he’d carefully filled with a mixture of my blood plus a clear preservative pinched between thumb and forefinger. His lips were bloody from the taste he’d already enjoyed and he didn’t bother wiping away the red splattering his lips.

“Why?” I choked on the word, barely able to talk. I was so lightheaded. If I hadn’t been lying down already, I would have fallen.

“Look.” He spread his arms wide and I blinked, trying to focus. My husband’s face seemed to shimmer slightly as if he was shifting to lupine form even though his shape remained resolutely human.

Then I understood what was happening. The small wrinkles around his eyes were smoothing. The few streaks of white in his hair had returned to glossy brown.

Ambrose was stealing my life to extend his own. And, given my marriage vow, there was nothing I could do about it.

He laughed again, the sound deeper, more resonant. A hand landed on my shoulder…

Not in memory, in life. Ambrose was here. He wanted to drain me dry again and…

Luckily, I wasn’t the innocent I’d been last time. “My oath died with you!” I gritted out.

I didn’t know if that was true but I wasn’t waiting around to find out. I fumbled for the slit in my skirt, the one Lynette had come upon me sewing into place and proclaimed “sexy” until she understood its purpose. The Velcro I’d used to close the long gash ripped beneath my fingers. The knife I’d strapped to my thigh was in my hands even as I spun to fight the man who’d killed me once already.

Grabbing the knife, however, had required dropping my phone. Face down on the earth, its glow provided only a tiny rim of light between the two of us. So all I could see was my enemy’s massive size as he bent over me. All I could smell was the fur waiting beneath his skin.

His huge hands were raised to the sky though. No wonder when my knife was at his throat. I’d won this round.

“I shouldn’t have touched you.”

The familiar rasp curled around me and I sucked in a gulp of air more frigid than it had been a moment earlier, not realizing until I did so that I’d been holding my breath. “Drake?”

The bulky shadow nodded, the motion working against my knife and cutting into his skin. I could smell his blood, just as salty as the liquid that had lined my husband’s lips. My fingers trembled. My weapon tumbled down to join my cell phone.

“Ambrose Reed is dead,” Drake continued as if he’d read my mind. “I saw him die and I’ll prove he’s gone.”

Over the next hour, Drake did exactly that.

***

He began by ripping the first two boards loose with his bare hands, revealing the shoulders of a desiccated, headless skeleton. And when I still couldn’t seem to stop shivering, he pulled out a multi-tool and worked every screw loose along the top of the coffin, revealing the rest of my husband’s remains.

Rotting clothes sagged over bones and connective tissue, dirt that had cascaded inside weighing down portions without obscuring the whole. Unless someone else had been put in this grave, I was indeed a widow.

And Drake swore he’d been personally responsible for transporting Ambrose’s body across the country to return it to the Reed pack this past spring. “Palms required greasing,” he rasped. “We don’t embalm our bodies and human laws can be difficult when crossing state lines.”

“If you say he’s dead, he’s dead.” Then I frowned, paying attention to the man in front of me at long last. “I cut you.”

And, okay, so maybe I just wanted an excuse to touch someone alive and lemon-scented. After all, the thin line of red from my knife was already coagulating and clearly didn’t require treatment. Still, I reached into the kitten-containing pocket and drew out the cloth handkerchief Drake always kept there, using it to dab at the wound I’d created while lost in memory and fear.

“Not the first time.” Drake’s rasp vibrated through the cloth and into my fingers, completely eradicating fear of the past while warming the air around us. Perhaps it hadn’t turned so unseasonably cold as suddenly as I’d imagined. Perhaps I’d just lingered too far from Drake’s tantalizing heat.

Which is how Lynette found us, arriving along with four young wolves and the apprentice Drake had called to collect them. The latter shone a huge flashlight beam down on us while the largest wolf swiveled around to guard against anything coming up behind us out of the forest. And Lynette hopped down into a hole that abruptly felt overcrowded. Only quick reflexes managed to save Drake from a bloody nose as our ward saluted.

“Reporting for duty. Which piece did the bas…” She coughed and seemed to change her mind about wording, cheeks pinking in a way that reminded me of myself in a modern fitting room. “Which piece did the grave robber touch?”

The stumble over words made Lynette seem younger than she actually was, and I opened my mouth to tell her she didn’t need to do this. I hadn’t thought through how having a teenager analyze an open grave might layer new traumatic memories atop old ones.

Plus, it wasn’t as if the current mystery was pressing enough to require interrupting Lynette’s newfound childhood. My husband was dead. Whatever had happened to his grave wasn’t important enough to mess with the normal life I was trying to create for our ward.

But Drake, who never naysaid me, shook his head very slightly before wordlessly pointing Lynette’s attention toward the single board that had been askew from the beginning. She reached out to touch it, taking advantage of scorchy fingers that also let her see fragments of the past when in contact with inanimate objects.

Her eyes closed and her cheeks seemed to sink under the stark lighting from Kira’s flashlight. Now Lynette looked nothing like the kid we’d left playing tag with young shifters. Instead, she was once again a young woman doing whatever she had to in order to survive.

Involving her in this mess had been a terrible idea.

Then Lynette’s eyelashes twitched. And when she opened her eyes, it was me she spoke to. “You’re not gonna like this.”

I already didn’t like this. “Tell me.”

“It was Kami.” Lynette rocked back on her heels, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the piece of wood she’d been touching. “She dug up the grave and took dead dude’s head.”

Keep reading in Wolf’s Curse!

The post Wolf’s Curse sneak peek appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

All the news I apparently didn’t think was fit to print…

I realized I hadn’t posted here every month when a new extra dropped on Patreon. Current extras include:

Werewolf Recipe Swap (open to non-patrons) — A pair of recipe cards that seem to have been sent from the Wilder-Young pack to Fen’s recently established Wolf Landing in 2014Broke Truck, Lost Pup — A young Thom from the No Fox Given series meets Wolfie by mistakeUndelivered Correspondence — Letters between Tru and Drake, set before the events in Wolf TrapWhen the Wolf Catches the Car — Set between Alpha Underground and Wolf Legacy, this short follows a teenaged Ember’s efforts to babysit Fen’s packSlaying Solstice — A text exchange between Kira, Grub, and MaiMuffins & Moonlight — Ember and Claw team up on a [redacted] quest

Meanwhile, if you’re an audio fan, you might have missed Wolf Trap hitting all retailers in listenable form. The ebook will also be dropping out of Kindle Unlimited and reaching the non-Amazon sites in two short weeks.

Finally, if you have friends who prefer to read in German, I hope you’ll mention that the translated version of Mai’s series is now bundled up (and the first book is free) while Kira’s first adventure has been translated as well.

Phew, that’s a lot of new stuff! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 

 

 

The post All the news I apparently didn’t think was fit to print… appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

More book recommendations!

I realized it had been almost a year since I’d summed up recent beloved books. How time flies when your kindle is perpetually full! As usual, I’m going to start with books most like mine and veer away a bit near the end, but every one of these is a very good read.

Black Hat, White Witch begins a deeply bingeable series full of the warmth of found family, an excellent slow-burn romance, and a great urban fantasy adventure. All the books are in Kindle Unlimited, which is probably a good thing because it’s impossible to stop at book one.

Wolf in the Shadows probably isn’t the best book to start with. (It’s book 6.) But if you’ve been reading along, you won’t want to miss this continuation of Maria Vale’s usual excellent worldbuilding and the very unique shifter pack she immerses us in. (If you haven’t been reading along, head back to book one of course.)

Silver Silence is my favorite of the Nalini Singh books I’ve read so far. I’m usually not a big fan of bear shifters, but this Russian alpha with his big, wobbly family is irresistible. Meanwhile, the heroine’s dilemma is page-turning. A must read!

Soulless was a re-read this year and a much-deserved one. Gail Carriger is such a master of the spunky Victorian heroine, the gruff werewolves, and the perfect blend of adventure and romance.

Only a Monster is a little darker than I usually prefer, but the worldbuilding and characters are so excellent that it’s well worth the read. (Young adult.)

The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels is good, but I probably wouldn’t have recommended it if I hadn’t liked book two even more. The worldbuilding is just so excellent — women as witchy pirates piloting flying houses!

If you’re willing to accept my theory that space opera is basically urban fantasy at its heart, you’ll love Hunt the Stars. So many excellent female characters, a wonderful romance, a darling alien pet, and a space ship crew that might as well be a wolf pack. Read it.

I hope that keeps you busy until May when my next book comes out!

The post More book recommendations! appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

Kira’s series in Kindle Unlimited and audio

If you’ve been waiting for Kira’s series to be bundled up, your wait is (likely) over! The audiobook has rolled out on most retailers (other than Audible/Amazon, which are being slow). Meanwhile, the ebook omnibus is available in Kindle Unlimited for three months before I take it wide. Your opportunity to borrow and binge if you prefer that to buying.

In other news, I’ve been quietly sharing short stories with my Patreon subscribers every month, but I couldn’t resist telling you about the February offering. Fifteen-year-old Ember gets a gig as temporary alpha of Fen’s pack in When the Wolf Catches the Car. I hope you’ll consider joining my pack and checking it out.

Thanks for reading!

The post Kira’s series in Kindle Unlimited and audio appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

Wolf Trap sneak preview

First a headsup: I’m launching Wolf Trap a bit differently than usual. It will go live exclusively on Amazon early next week, which means Kindle Unlimited subscribers can borrow for free — yay! Unfortunately, that means I can’t share it anywhere else (like Apple, Nook, Kobo, etc.) for at least three months after that date — boo!

My workaround is simple. You can “preorder” on Patreon until January 23. Patreon supporters not only get an early version (it’s going out to existing subscribers today!), they also get a bonus short that won’t be available anywhere else for at least a few months. I hope that makes up for the slight hassle of buying in a new and different way.

Okay, enough about business. Here are the first few chapters so you can see if Tru’s adventure floats your boat…

***

​Chapter 1

Flee! Scary Guy!! demanded the scrawl of black ink up the inside of my left arm, the words at just the right level so my opening eyes couldn’t help but fixate on the written advice. Blearily, I noted that my sleeve had been pushed up to reveal even more tiny letters decipherable only because they matched my own handwriting: Light sleeper!!! Get out now!!!!

I blinked away grit and tilted my head to consider the situation. Scary Guy didn’t look particularly scary. His head rested on the neighboring pillow, my breath just barely fluttering his long, ebony lashes. Equally dark hair atop his head was mussed as if he’d tossed and turned in the night, and no wonder since his broad, fully dressed body indented the covers rather than resting beneath them. Still, he’d managed to curl protectively around me while never quite touching the lump I made beneath the luxurious duvet, all while wearing a formal lounge suit that had not been made for sleep.

In other words, nothing appeared to have happened here last night. Nothing that would risk my standing in society…other than our completely inappropriate proximity without benefit of a chaperone, of course.

Still, if I couldn’t trust my own words, what could I trust? The marked-upon arm was stretched up under my head and sound asleep, but I eased it down in preparation for a sneaky exit.

Or, rather, I tried to.

Something soft yet unyielding held the arm in question exactly where it had been when I awakened. Something that made no sense, then suddenly did as my understanding of the world twisted on its axis, unlocking knowledge that felt at the same time old and brand new.

The item restraining my motion was a sex toy, the mere phrase making me blush. Absurdly fluffy pink handcuffs wrapped first around my wrist then around the bed frame. I’d been locked very gently yet very firmly in place.

The puzzle of last night—why was I here? Who was Scary Guy?—tickled my mind like a sword umbrella found in a thrift shop with a price tag far less than a collector would have paid for it. But my racing pulse demanded flight rather than puzzle-piecing, so I focused instead on potential tools within easy reach.

Lamp on a bedside table. Alarm clock with huge glowing digits that tried to consume my attention with its marvelousness but which I ignored as unhelpful. Drawer that I guessed from the hotel-like atmosphere might hold branded stationery and pen.

No flexible wire was in evidence, and I couldn’t quite recall what I intended to do with the item if I found it. But I trusted the shred of memory promising a solution, so I kept searching. Perhaps if I was very lucky the hotel would have splurged on one of those newfangled retractable pens…

After one quick glance to ensure Scary Guy was still sleeping, I bent my body slowly, slowly, away from him then eased the drawer open to reveal exactly what I’d expected. Bingo. Not only information about my location—“Lexington, Kentucky” was helpfully typed beneath the hotel name on the expected stationary—but also the exact item I needed to free myself. Tucking the ballpoint beneath my chin, I let muscle memory guide me as I unscrewed the top from the bottom and tapped out the metal spring.

Straightening even a small part of the curved wire was a bear with Scary Guy asleep on the bed beside me. Each time I moved, his breathing hitched and I froze. But eventually I held a length of semi-straight metal pinched between thumb and forefinger. Eventually, I was ready to work myself loose.

Hairs prickled on the back of my neck as I turned my back on Scary Guy completely this time. The posture was necessary to reach the handcuff, but a niggling memory promised that long eyelashes were false advertising. The man sleeping on the bed beside me was a predator and if I woke him…

Quieting my breathing with an effort, I inserted the wire into the hole then bent it into a V shape. Out it came then in at a different angle. Twist. Click. Success.

I grinned then froze as Scary Guy moved on the bed behind me. I couldn’t tell whether his eyes had opened. Could only feel the possessive weight as a huge hand slung itself across my shoulder and neck.

The touch should have been distasteful or worrisome, but his skin smelled like lemon-meringue pie. Sweet and tart with furry undertones.

Werewolf, my foggy memory suggested. Alpha. Danger!

I scraped the lining of my brain in search of further information but found nothing I could put words to. Just oddly mixed emotions and a complete absence of tangible puzzle pieces.

Meanwhile, behind me, Scary Guy’s breath had eased back into the regular susurration of slumber. He was unaware of my imminent escape…for the moment at least.

Enough puzzling, I warned myself. On task, please.

With the full use of all my fingers, it was simple to unlock the other handcuff from around the bed frame, even though I had to be fastidiously slow now that Scary Guy’s heat pushed into my skin through layers of fabric. The hotel had very helpfully chosen a bed with a slatted headboard, which meant I could move the handcuffs down the line, reattach them, then.…

The pink fur was so soft that Scary Guy didn’t wake when I slid his wrist into the unlocked side of the restraining device. He didn’t wake when the latch clicked shut. That success made me cockier than I should have been.

Easing a pillow into the space beneath his arm where I’d reclined one moment earlier, I crept out of bed and came erect on high-laced boots. No wonder my toes had complained so adamantly. It would have been entirely inappropriate to undress last night, but surely I could have at least slid off my footwear?

I paused to consider…and a huge hand lashed out to clamp shut around my billowing skirt fabric. “Wait,” Scary Guy rasped, the single word as harsh as sandpaper against my skin.

I was caught. Then I wasn’t.

Lunging sideways, I used the release of spring-like tension in one leg to rip myself free of my captor’s grip. “I’d rather not,” I rebutted, dancing out of reach then continuing toward the window that offered escape into night just on the cusp of dawn.

The crash behind me could have been the headboard being ripped apart or just a display of temper. I didn’t dare slow to check. Only once I’d pushed the window open and slammed my shoulder through the screen—such a shame to ruin astonishingly fine craftsmanship—did I dare turn back to assess the situation I was leaving behind.

Flat gray eyes bored into mine and now I understood the nickname I’d scrawled up the inside of my arm. This man was scary. Not because of his size and his muscles but because of the emotionlessness behind those pupils as he patiently wriggled the headboard slat back and forth and back and forth again. Brute force hadn’t broken the wood but it wouldn’t be long before patience won him free.

Still, I found myself succumbing to the temptation of the puzzle rather than fleeing. “Who are you?” I demanded.

The tiniest crinkle of humor formed on either side of his otherwise emotionless eyes. “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.”

That seemed like a fair trade so I opened my mouth to oblige him…and found nothing where my identity should have been. No given name, no family name, no knowledge of who I was and why I was here in this hotel room.

A lightning bolt of terror spun through me. Then, on its heels, something I could cling to. A female voice slicing through the fog of memorylessness like a remnant of previously uttered breath.

“You are strong. You can do this.”

The sounds didn’t quite match the words, but I understood them anyway. And even though I still didn’t know who I was, the remembered voice of my mother was immediately recognizable. I knew on an instinctive level that her belief in my abilities had buoyed me up in the past. If I so chose, I could let that maternal trust buoy me up now.

The first ray of early morning sun struck my back like the warmth of maternal kudos. A sharp whistle from the street almost jogged more reminders loose inside my head.

Almost, but not quite.

“No idea, huh?” Scary Guy’s rasp was louder than it had been a moment earlier. And while he hadn’t shared his name, I somehow knew this man wouldn’t raise his voice without good reason.

He was covering something up. The sound of slowly splintering wood maybe?

I didn’t wait to find out. I jumped through the window—first floor, thankfully—and obeyed my own instructions. Feet against pavement, I fled.

Chapter 2

I was running flat out when someone pounded up beside me. Not Scary Guy but a woman. Ignorable, I decided, then found myself veering toward her instead of away as something huge and rumbling sped by so close on my other side that the breeze of its passing whipped hair into my face.

That thing was tremendous. Loud. Dangerous.

I shook my head as I realized I was mistaken. That thing hadn’t been a monster. It was just a very fast motor wagon. Or rather…

“Car,” the woman said, nudging my shoulder in what seemed like a companionable manner, all without breaking stride. “Have you forgotten them today? Bad morning, I see, but I’ve gotcha.”

By this point we’d reached a corner and she turned right, the opposite direction from the one in which I’d intended to travel. After all, the area straight ahead seemed busier and more likely to hide me from my pursuer.

But curiosity instead sent me following the stranger. “How did you know I’d forgotten?” I demanded.

“Because you forget every day at dawn.” She pointed where the sun would have been if a four-story building hadn’t blocked our view of the horizon. “Sometimes you forget more, sometimes less. Major buzz kill, but whatcha gonna do?”

Despite the language that only barely made sense, her assertion seemed reasonable. Still, I wasn’t quite willing to accept daily memory loss on a stranger’s say-so. “And you know this because…”

The woman stopped dead, turning to point into a darkened shop window. “Look.”

I didn’t have time for extended chitchat. Scary Guy would be loose by now and instinct told me he could follow my scent trail around a corner as easily as if I’d been strolling along an empty beach with absolutely nothing to hide behind. Still, good manners dictated that I at least glance in the indicated direction. And what I saw froze me in my tracks.

Two young women were reflected by the glass-turned-mirror, two young women clad just as differently as I’d guessed at first glance. I wore a dress that covered my arms, neck, and ankles, precisely as societal mores dictated. She wore tight trousers—leggings, my erratic memory offered—and a bodice that revealed more than it concealed—tank top suggested another brief memory burst.

But it wasn’t the clothes that had startled me into stillness. Instead, I fixated on the eerie similarities between our two faces.

Straight dark hair on both of us framed features that were common in my homeland but not here in the States. Because those words from my mother hadn’t been English, had they? They’d been Japanese, just like me and this woman by my side.

Our similarities weren’t confined to a shared nationality either. No, we both boasted cheekbones a trifle sharper than was truly attractive, just like Okaasan’s. And we both sported that strange streak of white hair at our left temple, a streak that made us look older than the mid twenties I’d otherwise guess us to be.

“We’re twins,” I breathed.

“Not quite. You’re Tru. I’m Kami. Here, this should cheer you up.”

I hadn’t even realized the other woman was carrying something until she thrust it into my hands. But the object was mine, I knew, as soon as I touched the polished wooden handle. Because while it appeared to be an ordinary umbrella…

I snicked the latch and a sword slid free. The same sword that had sprung into my mind while I assessed the hotel-bed situation.

“Thank you,” I breathed, deciding then and there that I could trust Kami. After all, she’d brought me a sword that felt like safety, a solid link to a murkily obscured past. Plus, how could I not trust a woman who shared my own face? “Your kindness is noted and will be reciprocated.”

Kami snorted as if my wording amused her. But she had just enough time to say “If that’s a thank you, then you’re welcome” before a dull thud caught both of our attention.

The sound was so quiet it might have originated in my imagination. It hadn’t, though. Not when the scent wafting toward us was unmistakable.

Lemon-meringue pie and fur. Scary Guy.

I spun to find his dark shape rounding the corner and stalking wolf-like toward us. He wasn’t running, but he wasn’t stopping either. And Kami was biting her lip now, proof that the incoming danger wasn’t all in my head.

Save ourselves with sword or feet? Scary Guy’s emotionless eyes made the decision for me.

Slamming my blade back into its umbrella hiding place, I addressed Kami. “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance. Now run!”

***

Kami knew the city in a way I didn’t. Or, perhaps, in a way I once had but had since forgotten. We shimmied under a chain-link fence using a gap so small it had clearly been created by dogs or children. Our bodies barely fit, so we knew Scary Guy’s shoulders would be a no-go.

Rather than trying, he launched himself up the side of the fence itself, something I caught out of the corner of one eye in all its tendon-bulging glory. Despite myself, I slowed to watch the spectacle, only to be chided by a memory of my mother’s words.

“Dumplings above flowers.” When had Okaasan reminded me that substance trumps beauty? I itched to tug on this thin thread of memory, the only one that seemed willing to rise through the fog that shrouded the rest of my past. Now, though, seemed like the time to stick to the present and take the remembered recommendation at face value.

Because, yes, Scary Guy was unbelievably agile. He moved with skill few humans managed, all smoothness and lithe grace. But he was also running after us with the single-minded intensity of a predator. I didn’t intend to become his prey.

So I followed Kami across a combined playground and ball field as fast as I was able. Even in morning dimness, there was nowhere to hide if you weren’t a small child content to giggle in shadow. A gate at the opposite end swung wide, however, and who knew what lay beyond that.

Our time to find out, however, was rapidly wearing thin. We’d made it only two-thirds of the way to the gate when the faintest thud of bare feet on grass promised Scary Guy had completed his descent.

“We have to stand and fight,” I gasped.

Kami was equally breathless when she answered. “Not quite. Trust me.”

Then we were at the gate and through it. The street we’d ended up on rose slightly to a set of railroad tracks where warning bars were even now lowering to block access.

To block vehicle access, maybe, but not foot access. The train was in sight, barreling toward us, but I’d gauged Kami’s and my running speed by this point. We could make it. Barely.

We ducked under the warning bars and shot across the tracks so close to the train its lights blinded us and its horn blared warning. Then we rested with hands on our knees, catching our breath while large bare feet appeared and reappeared in gaps between huge metal wheels.

Chapter 3

The train offered a longer delay than the fence had, but I knew my scent trail would continue to attract Scary Guy’s attention. So I was surprised when Kami slipped into a darkened alcove in a long stone wall three blocks later. The indentation had once been a doorway, I guessed, but now the erstwhile entrance was bricked off while broken bottles on the ground suggested others had used this spot to gain a degree of seclusion. We wouldn’t be immediately visible to passersby, but I had no doubt Scary Guy would smell us the moment he stepped onto the block.

“Strip,” Kami demanded while I was still working through why we’d paused.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll be late for work if you don’t head to the mall now. I’ll draw the Executioner away, but I need to look and smell like you to make that happen.”

“The Executioner?” I asked, shivering even though I hadn’t started unfastening the long row of buttons down the front of my dress. “That doesn’t sound promising. Are you sure you’ll be safe on your own?”

When Kami snapped her fingers instead of answering, I leaned my sword umbrella up against the wall and obeyed her orders. After all, she seemed to know much more about the mess I’d woken up in than I did.

She might’ve known more, but her motives came into question rather abruptly. I looked up from the dress I was trying to step out of without dragging it through the dirt to find her snatching my umbrella, winding a mass of dark fabric around its handle, then tossing the combination up over the wall behind us. The entire grab-twist-throw happened so quickly, I only had time for a single word. “Hey!”

“You’re going after it.”

I was? Certainly not directly after it since the wall was well built and offered few obvious footholds. But, yes, Kami was right—I was definitely going to find a way to the other side to regain my most prized possession, all while rethinking the trust I’d so blithely granted to the woman by my side.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Kami chided, cocking her head as if she could hear the train even though we’d come too far for the sound to carry. “Ditch the dorky shapewear and shift.”

“I don’t have the foggiest idea…” I started. But my skin was tingling, my body twisting.

Abruptly, my eyes were far closer to the pavement than they had been a moment earlier. The puddled dress beside me was no longer rose but pale yellow. And scents that had whispered secrets when we arrived now yelled overwhelming knowledge of everyone who had passed this point for several hours prior.

I was a fox. Of course I was a fox; how could I have forgotten? The hard stays of my corset prodded my fur as I wriggled free of the tunnel cautious humanity dictated.

I appeared to owe Kami an apology, not that I could offer one now that I’d ditched human vocal cords. I whined instead and she seemed to get the gist.

“No worries. I get it. It’s weird not remembering.” Then, before I could try to broach any other topics, she returned to my previous question. “And yes, I’ll be fine. The Executioner will lose my trail in no time then I can spend the day busking.

“Here’s what you need to know,” she continued while shedding her own clothes without a single glance at the empty street. “I wrapped your uniform around the umbrella. Rosa is your friend and co-worker. She’ll fill the gaps in your memory and I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift.”

I was listening, but I was also paying attention to the twitch of my whiskers that told me the Executioner was approaching. The train had passed and even though I couldn’t smell or hear our pursuer, I somehow knew our time was running out.

The sooner I left, the sooner Kami could take herself to safety. Fox feet found the wall’s ornamental bulges as easy to traverse as a wide staircase. I was up and over before she stopped grousing at the buttons of my dress.

***

Bright lights in the mall’s parking lot made up for the fact that only a handful of cars graced the pavement at such an early hour. Which was handy since I had no idea what the woman I was meeting looked like.

For my own part, I was newly two-legged, dressed this time in the strange one-piece suit Kami had provided for me. Thus covered, I ignored the twinge of impropriety at my lack of a skirt and headed toward the only current sign of life. A minivan had pulled up around back as I approached, its taillights facing me. And for one split second, the woman emerging from the driver’s side door matched the only person my memory held dear enough to name.

“Okaasan,” I murmured, hurrying forward to join her. I knew before she took a step that my mother would move carefully due to age biting into her bones. Knew, even from this distance, that her hair would smell like cloves and cinnamon. Her arms around me would be as warm as sunbeams and…

I was almost close enough to suck up that beloved scent when the woman turned with just as much care as I expected and shattered the heartening illusion.

Yes, this woman was my mother’s age—sixtyish—and her dark eyes twinkled like Okaasan’s, making her appear much younger. But her facial features were clearly Latina, not Japanese. Unless I’d not only lost memories but chopped others up into confetti, this wasn’t my mother after all.

“Rosa?” I guessed, ignoring the sinking sensation in my stomach as I reached out to take the heavy tote of cleaning supplies out of her hand. After all, even if this wasn’t Okaasan, she was old enough to demand assistance and respect.

Welcome imbued every feature of her face as she nodded. “None other.”

She might have intended to say more, but just then the back door of the minivan slid open. And muscle memory whipped my sword out of its umbrella sheath in response to the overwhelming aroma of fur.

Male. Young. Fit. That was all I saw before the human-form werewolf flung himself at me with a one-word growl. “Fox.”

“Wolf,” I rebutted, slicing at the air in front of his nose.

Then Rosa was pushing her way between us so abruptly I had to turn my blade sideways to prevent it from cutting into innocent flesh. “Benito! Tru! Stop it!”

“Tía, you don’t understand.” Despite the aggressive scent flowing off him, the young man’s voice was low and restrained. “This woman isn’t who you think she is.”

“I could have said the exact same thing about you,” I rebutted. As I spoke, I angled my body to place it between him and Rosa, well aware that the older woman was only human and no match for an angry werewolf. The tricky part was deciding when the erratically moving Benito might spring in her direction…

Before I’d won more than a few inches of progress, however, Rosa slammed one palm into my shoulder and one into Benito’s chest then straightened her arms in unison. “Enough. I mean it. Both of you, calm down.”

Her strength was no match for ours, but any resistance on our part might result in her injury. So I let myself be shoved, and my estimation of Benito went up when he retreated as well.

And now that we finally had some very real physical distance between us, I was able to notice what I hadn’t earlier. The boy was years shy of his full growth, perhaps only a tall fourteen and skinny in the way of teenagers who’ve gained height so quickly they haven’t managed to match it with muscle.

He was also clinging to humanity with clear effort while menacing no one directly. Instead, he appeared to be angling to protect the older woman the same way I was.

Which meant—“I overreacted,” I admitted, sheathing my sword. “I apologize.”

The young man vibrated for one long moment, then he jerked his chin down in a nod that appeared almost painful. He didn’t meet my eyes, however, and his response was aimed at his relative. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Walk it off then,” Rosa agreed. “Come in when you’re ready.” Then, dismissing Benito and heading toward a smaller, less flashy door than the one I’d passed while rounding the building, she tossed over her shoulder, “Fox, huh? I didn’t see that coming. Didn’t realize introducing you to Benito would provoke such fireworks either.”

Looked like Rosa wasn’t going to fill all of my memory gaps after all.

Chapter 4

Rosa might not have been privy to my complete history, but she did know how to smooth my way through a job that my muscles found familiar but my conscious mind struggled with. From the locker where she stashed her purse and I reluctantly parted with my umbrella to the best way to clean without bothering the few early morning business owners, Rosa led me through a work day that should have felt familiar but definitely did not.

At first, I stared at the huge television screen in the mezzanine every time I passed near it and blushed at the skimpiness of my coveralls. But modernity faded from amazing to run-of-the-mill within a few hours. Soon, I was more interested in guessing why my vocabulary sometimes made Rosa chuckle then point out that plimsoll was deeply archaic.

“The word you’re looking for,” my mentor said gently, “is sneakers. Here, you’ll enjoy this.”

And I did. The vacuuming robot entranced me so thoroughly that I had to force myself to actually do my job rather than stare at it awestruck. Following the machine across the floor like a cat stalking a mouse, I almost failed to notice the security guard cornering Rosa when she returned from refilling the cleaning fluids in her tote.

“I’ll need to see some ID.” He swaggered closer, boxing her into a bend in the hallway with body language that proclaimed he was a lion slapping his paw down over a cockroach. In contrast, thick glasses and a potbelly made him an unlikely predator.

Rosa’s attention, however, fixated on his right hand and I strained to see what had her curling in on herself. The same woman who’d stood between my sword and an angry werewolf was doing her best to look innocuous as she murmured apologies. Why…?

Gun, my slippery memory informed me after a moment of intense concentration. Far more dangerous than a sword.

Rosa might not be my mother, but there was no way I was letting this man threaten her. I started toward the pair, but Rosa met my gaze and gave the tiniest head shake. Meanwhile, she obeyed the security guard as easy as if he wasn’t bullying his way into her personal space.

“You’re new,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a rectangular card. Her voice was firmer now than it had been before she noticed me watching. “But I’m not. I can assure you, everything is very much in order.”

Rather than answering, Mr. Potbelly snatched the card and turned it over in his hands, considering it far more intently than the small surface seemed to merit. As he did so, Rosa took advantage of his lack of attention to widen her eyes at me. “Take a break,” she mouthed, jerking her chin toward the exit door, outside which we’d shared beef jerky with Benito not so long ago. He’d been four-legged at the time, keeping his distance from me but accepting the snack from Rosa’s fingers as gently as if she was made of glass.

And that was only relevant because it meant now was very much not the time for another rest period. On the other hand, it was true that my pockets didn’t contain any rectangular cards. If asked for ID, I’d have nothing to share with this armed bully.

I didn’t obey immediately however. “Will you be safe without me?” I mouthed back.

Rosa nodded once, rolling her eyes in a way that made it clear she’d moved on from fear to disgruntlement. Just about then, the security guard gave up on trying to turn the card into something it wasn’t. He handed it back, then frowned and swiveled to find out what Rosa was looking at…

…But I was already gone. Speedwalking past barred shop entrances and sliding into the break room Rosa had led me in through. I snagged my umbrella from the locker then vacillated in front of the back door.

Yes, Rosa had seemed in control of the situation when I left, but how much of that was a facade donned for my benefit? Was I really going to leave Rosa alone with a man who threatened unknown trouble? A man using a dangerous weapon to bolster his weakness?

The gunshot that made up my mind came from in front of me, not from behind me. From outside where we’d left Benito pacing fifteen minutes earlier.

Time slowed as I shoved my way through the doorway. But I was too late. By the time I reached his furry body, Rosa’s nephew was dead.

***

He was dead and a vehicle was speeding off around the corner. I got the impression of something dark and blocky, then the shooter was gone far faster than feet could follow.

Still, I took off after the vehicle anyway, or tried to. Three steps in, a different car screeched to a halt directly in front of me, disgorging the same man I’d woken up handcuffed beside.

“What’s wrong?” the Executioner demanded, the saw rasp of his voice sharper than the part in his hair. This morning, long lashes had hinted at innocence, but that illusion fragmented as his gray eyes bored into mine in daylight. A stark memory of a losing battle with a dogpile of snarling werewolves drifted through my mind like smoke before a fire. Alpha. Danger. Every instinct demanded I run far and I run fast.

Still, I wasn’t about to abandon evidence of Benito’s killing. Not when Rosa would need answers to fill the hole her nephew left behind him. Not when Rosa might be in just as much danger from the Executioner as I was.

Instead, I spat questions back in his direction. “Why are you following me? How did you find me?”

The third potential query—was it coincidence that he’d shown up so soon after a deadly shooting?—wasn’t asked in words. Instead, I swallowed my fear and closed the space between us, hairs standing up along the back of my neck as I approached the werewolf that rubbed shrouded fear raw.

To my surprise, he didn’t move as I grabbed his wrists and yanked his hands up toward my nose. It was hard to force myself to breathe, not just through fear of his proximity but because of the way those gray eyes considered me in silence for an endless moment before he rasped out an answer to questions both asked and unasked. “I followed you because I didn’t want you running scared all day. I found you by driving a grid between the points where I lost your trail over the last three days. Now it’s your turn. What’s wrong?”

I only half listened, paying more attention to my nose than to his explanation. This man stank of the mouth-puckering astringency of alpha, yet lemon-meringue pie overwhelmed that more generic aroma. Sweet-tart deliciousness enfolded me in its embrace like the warmth of the hotel bed I’d woken in not many hours earlier. Despite myself, I found my urge to flee receding along with the half-memory from my past…

The post Wolf Trap sneak preview appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

Wolfie’s take on recipe swaps

If you’d like to read what Wolfie thinks equates to a helpful recipe to send to a distant pack member, you’ll want to check out this public patreon post. (Galena’s recipe, in contrast, is actually delicious.)

On a related note, I realized I hadn’t shared here about my newish excursion into patreon. Making beautiful swag and visiting with old characters was a lot of fun during my recent kickstarter, so I decided to make a smaller version into a regular occurrence. I’ll let you read about all the options over on my patreon page, but I didn’t want you to miss the boat since each month’s swag is exclusive and never-to-be repeated. If you’re interested in even more fun than you get from my newsletter (plus early access to my new releases), I’ll look forward to seeing you over there.

The post Wolfie’s take on recipe swaps appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

Only a few hours left to nab exclusive hardbacks and swag

If you’re sick of hearing about my Kickstarter campaign, good news: it’s almost over! If you’re intrigued but haven’t quite found time to check it out yet: here’s your last nudge!

I’ve had a blast adding on lots of fun extras as stretch goals, so most backers are going to enjoy far more than they initially signed up for. And all that bounty — stickers, art prints, bonus illustrations within the ebook and print books — will no longer be available once the campaign is over. If you want it, now’s your last chance!

Meanwhile, if you’ve already backed, thank you so much for your support as I learn a brand new platform. I can’t wait to package up swag envelopes and get everything else on its way to you ASAP. I deeply appreciate having you as part of my pack.

The post Only a few hours left to nab exclusive hardbacks and swag appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

Pros and cons of three AI art engines when picturing wolf and fox shifters

While I currently make my living writing werewolf novels, my creative outlet of choice was visual arts from middle school through college. So when AI art opportunities started popping up, I couldn’t resist diving in with two feet. Here are my ultra-specific experiences asking Midjourney, Nightcafe, and DALL-E to create images that would fit into my fantasy novels.

 

Nightcafe

For most people, Nightcafe is currently my top recommendation. It’s a good middle ground between the ultra-high-powered Midjourney and the light-weight DALL-E, with some bonus elements all its own.

Pros: I like everything about the user side of this AI engine, from the way you can follow other users and explore a feed of the most popular images (seeing what prompts created many of them) to the way you get free credits daily and for jumping through various hoops. It does pretty well with wolves and foxes and people and an excellent job with landscapes and styles. If you click “add modifiers” under the text prompt box, you’re guided through lots and lots of artistic options in a way none of the other engines make very clear. Finally, you can enlarge an image you love without changing it in any way other than making it higher-resolution. Overall, Nightcafe is a great engine to grow with.

Cons: I just started playing with Nightcafe, so perhaps it’s no surprise that I’ve yet to make images as close to what I had in mind as those I made with Midjourney. I’m only starting to learn how to iterate images, a process that doesn’t seem as effective as Midjourney’s (so far).

Licensing: As long as you don’t use an otherwise owned image for style transfer, etc., then you own the output files (as far as anyone owns AI art, which is still up in the air.)

Recommendation: Follow me then give creation a try! You should be able to get some good images without dumping in any cash as long as you check back every day to claim your five free credits. (They don’t expire, but they do have to be clicked on daily if you want to stockpile them.) Then, when you want to tweak an image that had potential but isn’t fully there yet, don’t use “evolve”; use “duplicate” with the image you want to tweak chosen as a starting point and the text subtly changed.

 

Midjourney

I’ll tell you up front that I’ve played the most with Midjourney, so it’s no surprise I’ve created the images that fit my vision best there.

Pros: You can make some amazing images on Midjourney if you put in the time to iterate your favorite of the four options many times. Seeing what others create on the discord server is also a great way to get ideas for prompts (although the browsing process isn’t as smooth as it is in Nightcafe).

Cons: If you’re not already into discord, you may find the creation process overwhelming and esoteric. The tier I recommend (see below) is too pricey to be worth sticking to long-term for most of us. When you upscale small images to larger images, they change…sometimes in awesome ways and sometimes in awful ways. Also, when I was playing with Midjourney this summer, it was terrible at wolves and had a real problem with giving all women skirts unless you specifically told it to give them pants then adding in huge butts — I hope these issues have improved since then or do soon.

Licensing: If you have a free account, your images are licensed under Creative Commons. If you have a paid account, you own your images (with relevant caveats about whether or not anyone owns AI art).

Recommendation: Check out the hardcover I currently have up on kickstarter, built around Midjourney imagery and funded in 26 hours! Then, if you’re diving into a project like this with two feet, go ahead and pay for the $30/month tier. This lets you make unlimited images as long as you’re willing to use the “relax” mode and wait a bit longer for each to be produced. Definitely use an iterative process to choose one of the four options and settle in for a long creative afternoon!

 

DALL-E

I’ve only dabbled in DALL-E, but wasn’t very impressed.

Pros: Free credits top up once a month. It seems to be better at making wolves and foxes that look real than Midjourney (although not as good as Nightcafe). And its iterative process seems to be better than Nightcafe’s. Plus, DALL-E is very simple to use.

Cons: I only used my first-month free credits, but I didn’t come up with any images that wowed me. It didn’t seem to respond to style suggestions very well, which meant my images came out okay but hum-drum. You’re on your own figuring out how to get good images unless you join their discord channel or one of the facebook groups. And there’s a rainbow “signature” at the lower right that might be annoying to some.

Licensing: DALL-E doesn’t actually say you own the output, but they say you can use it commercially.

Recommendation: This might be a good one to dip into as a toy…or I might be totally off-base and it might be very powerful once figured out.

As a final note, I feel like I’d be remiss if I didn’t add — I wrote this in mid October 2022 and all of the engines are changing and growing daily. Who knows which one will be the best in a month or a year?

http://aimeeeasterling.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/10/stretch.mp4

P.S. Kicktarter update — we’re working toward our first stretch goal! I hope you’ll join in the fun.

The post Pros and cons of three AI art engines when picturing wolf and fox shifters appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

Mai’s Kickstarter is live!

I’m so excited to share my full Kickstarter campaign with you on launch day!

So what’s Kickstarter and why did I go there? This crowd-funding platform is a great way of reaching readers who love books and swag they can hold in their hands. And there’s going to be a lot to hold!

Exclusive hardbacks with scads of brand new art
Colorful bookmarks
Signed bookplates
Mini art prints to save or share
A never before seen Moon Marked story

Even if you always read on your ereader, you won’t want to miss this 17-day extravaganza. Because when you buy through Kickstarter, you can enjoy slashed prices on my entire backlist…which includes a further 10% off in the early-bird tiers.

And, no, unlike a lot of authors, I’m not going to be emailing/posting daily updates on my campaign. So if you’re on the fence and want to hear all the news, be sure to sign up at the $1 level (which just happens to be all you need to do to download Outfoxed).

I hope you’ll join me, Mai, Gunner, Kira, and their friends on this exciting adventure. Just, maybe refrain from punching any alpha werewolves in the nose…

(Don’t know what I’m talking about? Then you clearly need to read Wolf’s Bane!)

The post Mai’s Kickstarter is live! appeared first on Aimee Easterling.

In which I pretend to be an urban fantasy heroine

I fought down camera shyness and actually showed my face on video in preparation for my upcoming kickstarter. If nothing else, hopefully you’ll get a laugh out of the result…

The post In which I pretend to be an urban fantasy heroine appeared first on Aimee Easterling.