Ghost Wolf

And its coloring was surreal, not of this realm. Glowy and pale, but not see-through, as she had guessed. Iridescent. From Faery? Only Faery things glowed as this wolf did. Or maybe a god such as Fenrir? Couldn’t be. According to the legend she had researched, that god had been chained until the end of time.

Its white leathery nostrils flaring, the wolf scented her, then whipped its head back and reared from her. Growling low in warning, the wolf stepped back and stretched out its arms. Emitting a long and rangy howl, it sent shivers throughout Daisy’s body. She clutched her arms across her chest and tucked her head.

With a stomp of its massive foot, the ghost wolf took off into the forest, leaving its tracks imprinted deep in the snow near her feet.

Daisy breathed out. “Holy shit, that was close.”

Holding a shaking hand before her, she assessed her heartbeat. Ready to bust out from her ribs. She shook her head. She’d take her father’s wrath over another meeting with the ghost wolf any day.

And then she checked her fear. The wolf hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t even moved to touch her. For all she knew, it could be of her breed.

“I can’t be afraid,” she said. “Only girls cry.”

* * *

By the time she arrived back in town, Daisy’s heartbeat had settled. The fear had segued to an adventurous exhilaration during her walk. She’d stood face-to-face with the ghost wolf! Her brothers would be stunned.

With adrenaline tracing her veins, she wasn’t content to go home and crawl into bed. Instead, she headed toward the west end of town where she knew Red lived. She marched up to the front door, passing the truck that hissed out steam from beneath the hood. Seeing a light on inside, she knocked.

Red answered immediately, frowned, then looked over her shoulder. As if she should have brought along an entourage?

“You it?” he asked.

“Uh, I’m Daisy Saint-Pierre, Mister Red. I heard about you seeing the ghost wolf,” she tried.

“You bet I did.”

“Would you mind answering a few questions for the Tangle Lake Tattler?” She whipped out her notepad to make it look official.

“Hell no. I ain’t talking to no one but Kare11 News. I called ’em. I thought you were it, but apparently not.” He pushed the door closed, but Daisy wedged a shoulder against it and shoved inward. “Nobody but the big news,” he reiterated, and this time managed to shut the door completely.

Daisy stepped back and stared at the door. Kare11 was the most-watched news channel in Minneapolis.

“Shoot. I should have gotten here sooner. He must have called the station as they were driving back. Couldn’t have been that scared if he was thinking about his fifteen minutes of fame.”

Daisy wandered down the path back to her car just as the Kare11 News van pulled up. She recognized the blonde reporter who got out and directed her cameraman toward the house.

The woman rushed over to Daisy and shoved a microphone in her face. “Are you related to Red MacPherson?”

Daisy shook her head. “I’m with the Tangle Lake Tattler.”

The reporter lowered the microphone. “Red didn’t give you the scoop, did he? I told him this was my story.”

“He didn’t. But I had to try.”

The woman sucked in a perfectly highlighted and blushed cheek and sneered. “Tough luck.” She spun about and marched across the shoveled sidewalk in her high heels.

Who wore high heels and a business skirt at eleven o’clock at night in the middle of January? Daisy sighed. A reporter who was always prepared to get her story, she decided. There was a lot she had to learn about the business of journalism.

But she did have one thing that might scoop them all.

Rushing back to her car, Daisy pulled away with one hand on the wheel and the other clutching her camera.

* * *

The following afternoon, Daisy opened her front door to find Beckett Severo standing there, smiling sheepishly. The frustration that had been building all day as she’d tried to understand the Photoshop program to enhance her photos slipped away. A more intriguing distraction had arrived.

And a sexy distraction, as well.

“Beck.” She shoved a hand over her hair. Hadn’t looked at it since stepping out of the shower this morning. Yeesh. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again after, well, you know.”

“Do you want to see me?” He remained behind the threshold, hands shoved in his front pockets. “I mean, should I be here?”

“Yes.” She took his hand and tugged him inside. “I didn’t want to influence you one way or the other so I didn’t make the first move. Also, I don’t have your phone number.”

He tugged out his cell phone and pressed a few buttons, then handed it to her. “Let’s remedy that right now. Type in your number. If you give me yours, I’ll do the same.”

She grabbed her phone from the counter and handed it to him. Typing in her digits, she entered simply Daisy Blu, and not her last name. She didn’t want anything in there to remind him of her father.

“I don’t want to disrespect your father,” he said, handing her back her phone and reclaiming his. “But I couldn’t stay away.”

“Why is that?”

“That I don’t mean any disrespect to a pack principal?”

“No, I understand that completely. And I have to say I’m glad that humiliating episode did not keep you away. It must have been my hot chocolate that lured you back, right?”

“While I admit that wicked brew could certainly provide a strong lure toward you, that’s not the reason. How can a guy walk away from pink hair and fluttery lashes like yours? And you’re not like most women. You’re smart, and you have interests in things beyond shoes and celebrities.”

“I don’t know what torture king expects us to walk in those wobbly high-heeled shoes.”

“I like you in pack boots and your kitty hat. Can I, uh...” His eyes danced over her face nervously. Then he splayed out his hands. “We never got to finish that kiss before your father showed up.”

Indeed not. The man had an excellent memory, and thank the goddess for that.

Daisy stepped up to him and tilted back her head because he was tall, and she wanted to stare into his eyes all day. Until such a view didn’t matter, and she closed her eyes and tipped forward onto her tiptoes.

He met her mouth with his. A warm, sure kiss that belonged nowhere but now. She gripped the front of his sweater, beneath the open coat, and when he spread a hand up her back she leaned into him. He was so warm, and strong. The muscles beneath her hands were hard as rock, and she curled her fingers against the curve of his pecs. Yet at her mouth, everything was not hard but eager and searching. Inviting and exploratory.

He smelled like caramel and coffee. Whatever he’d had to drink before coming here, it was delicious. Beck moaned into her mouth and lifted her by the hips. Daisy wrapped her legs about his waist without breaking the kiss. He dipped his head to deepen their connection, dashing his tongue along hers. The taste of him ignited her desires. Her skin prickled, and her nipples tightened. She almost grinded her mons against his stomach but stopped herself. This was only their second kiss. And actually, it was just finishing the first kiss.

“You do that very well,” she said against his mouth. “You said something about our kiss never ending?”

“I could keep this up for years.” He kissed her eyelid, then tilted his forehead against hers. “You do things to me, Daisy Blu.”

“Good things?”

“Good. Bewitching. You make the wolf inside me want to howl.”

At that moment a wolf howled on the television turned to low volume before the couch.

Daisy laughed. “Appropriate timing.”

“You watching a nature show?”

“No, I’ve had the news on while I’ve been trying to figure out how to make a computer program pair up with my camera.”

Behind them the news anchor reported on last night’s encounter between two hunters and the ghost wolf.

“Kare11 can suck it,” Daisy said. She slid out of Beck’s grasp and picked up the TV remote and clicked it off. “I almost had an interview with one of those hunters last night. I should have told him I was with Kare11. He’d only speak to them. How’s that for sucky?”

“Last night? You were out looking for interviews? How quickly does word get around when something like a white wolf stalking hunters happens?”

“Pretty fast. But even faster when it’s witnessed firsthand. I was there.” She spun, and her enthusiasm over what she’d witnessed last night made her bounce on her toes. “In the forest. I got a few shots of the hunters running in fear from the ghost wolf, and—you’ll never believe this—I actually photographed the ghost wolf. They’re too blurry, though. Nothing I can use unless I figure out the computer program. I’m so not tech savvy.”

Beck’s mouth hung open for so long, Daisy wondered if he’d slipped into a sort of catatonic state. When finally he swept a hand before him and clenched it into a fist, he blurted, “What the hell were you doing in the woods again? Alone? I thought I told you that was dangerous?”

“I’m fine. See?” She spun before him, not about to let the big tough male treat her like a helpless female. Been there, done that. Learned to punch the lug in the gut. “And you know what? The ghost wolf walked right up to me. Sniffed me, even.”

“Daisy! It could have killed you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m ninety-five-percent sure it’s a werewolf. Except bigger. And stronger. Its muscles were just so much...” she caressed the air in the shape of the wolf “...more. And you know, it really does kind of glow. It’s white and transparent. Maybe iridescent—”

“I can’t listen to this. Daisy, what would your father say? Does he know you go wandering in the woods alone at night where hunters are waiting to shoot their prey? You being just such prey.”

“I’m no man’s prey. I wore an orange vest. It’s not the hunters I worry about. Besides, I went in human form because I needed to get the shots. Why are you getting so bent out of shape about this? I’m a reporter. Or I hope to be. I’m doing what is necessary to win the internship.”

“Daisy, reporters don’t risk their lives by standing before a wild animal.”

“I think they do. At least, this reporter does. But I didn’t fear the ghost wolf. Not for long, anyway. In fact, I know it wouldn’t have harmed me. I felt that from it.”

“Must have recognized your scent.”

“What? How could it? Recognize it from when?”

Beck shook his head and wandered over to the long table before the windows. Her notes, books and various sketches were scattered beside the laptop and a digital camera.

He gripped his hair and paced. “I don’t think it’s wise. We don’t know anything about this ghost wolf. And even if you think it’s werewolf, it’s not like us, Daisy.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure that out. Let me show you.”

She slipped around behind the table where half a dozen books on myth and even some volumes written by paranormal breeds listed a variety of the known and fantastical creatures that existed within this mortal realm.

“I haven’t found anything exactly like what I saw. At first I thought it could be an incarnation of Fenrir, but I doubt that. This one comes close.” She tapped a page in an open book that featured Chibiabos. “It’s a Native American legend, and this area of the state is steeped in Indian traditions. There’s a reservation not far from here. Or this one.”

She pulled another book before her and Beck leaned over, though it didn’t seem as if he were interested, but rather distracted. And not in a good way. She could sense his tension and smell not so much anger as concern.

“Here.” She picked up the picture she’d printed out earlier. “This is the best shot I could get of it.”

He took the photo and looked it over. It was a blurred image of something white. Could be the abominable snowman for the clarity. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d never be able to look at the picture and say, Yes, that’s a werewolf.

“What do you intend to prove by getting a picture?” he asked. “I know you want the internship, and that requires a winning article, but why this story?”

“It’s what I know.”

Beck frowned.

“Okay, I know I’m treading dangerous territory with our breed. We’re all about secrecy.”

“And for good reason.”

“Right, and I get that. But the ghost wolf is already out there. The humans are making it out to be some evil creature. But I think of the ghost wolf as more of a superhero.”

“Right, your hero in a cape theory. It’s nonsense, Daisy.”

“I didn’t say he wore a cape.” But that he’d dismissed it as nonsense hurt. Daisy lifted her chin. “And I want to make sure it’s not hunted as a monster, but rather honored as something that made the hunters take a pause to rethink their motives toward mindless killing. The ghost wolf is helping the wolves.”

“A noble goal, but...” Beck sighed and turned to sit against the table, facing her. He clutched the table edge and leaned forward, entreating, “What if one of these nights a hunter’s bullet goes astray and you get hit? Daisy, this story is not worth the risk.”

“So long as it’s not a silver bullet, I’m good.”

“Silver—Daisy. Wait.” Beck stood, his hands pressed together, going to his face. “Silver.”

“Right. That’s the only thing that can kill us.”

“Yes, but...fuck.”

“Beck? What’s wrong?”

She could sense his increased heartbeats. As well, her heartbeat sped up. What had she said? His mood had shifted from concern to something like angst. He must be thinking about his father. She had heard he had been with him when he’d been murdered.

“I don’t know why I haven’t been pursuing this all along.”

“Pursuing what?” she asked.

“The shotgun shell that killed my father had silver in it.”

“That’s odd. Aren’t most shells filled with lead shot?”

“Exactly. So the hunter had to have made it special. And to use silver...he had to have known what he was hunting. Who would do something like that?”

“You think it wasn’t a human?” Daisy asked. “Vampire?”

“Huh?” He found her gaze, as if coming up from the depths, his eyes focusing on hers. “No, it wasn’t a vampire. I jumped on him that night, held him down. He was human, and though I was in wolf shape at the time, I felt his fright.”

“That’s to be expected if a wolf attacks you.”

“I didn’t attack him. I just...kept him away from my father’s body.”

Daisy sucked in her lip. They were moving into intimate territory, and she felt the need for caution. It hurt Beck to retell this information, but that he trusted her to reveal a few details was immense.

“I have to go check on something,” he said. “This is big.” He started toward the door. “I’m sorry. I had come here to spend some time with you. But this is important.”

“I understand. I have your digits now.” She rushed to beat him to the door and pressed her shoulders to it as he arrived before the threshold. “I want to help you, Beck.”

“I don’t need any help. And I don’t want you getting shot in your quest for a picture of a creature that could very likely kill you. Will you promise me to stay out of the forests? Please, Daisy?”

That wasn’t something she could promise. And she was smart; she knew when she was in danger, and she hadn’t felt it yet. Not even when the ghost wolf had walked right up to her.

She touched Beck’s cheek and traced his stubble-darkened jaw. His thoughts were miles away, back at his father’s side as he’d died in the forest. She didn’t know how to deal with grief. It hadn’t touched her life. And it had only been a few months since he’d lost his father. He seemed normal and stoic on the outside, but could he be a bundle of agony on the inside?

“Have you spoken to anyone about this? Losing your father?”

“Why? I’m not a weepy girl, Daisy. Something bad happened. I’m dealing. If anyone needs help, it’s my mother. She’s— Hell. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry about this.”

“Don’t apologize. I just... Can we make another date? Tomorrow night? I’ll cook if you come over.”

“I’d like that. You like wine?”

“Sounds good. Bring red. I’ll make meat and potatoes.”

He bracketed her head with his palms and bent his forehead to hers again. “You could win my heart, you know that, Daisy Blu?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

“You don’t need to try, just...be you.”

He kissed her again, this time holding still at her mouth. She thought she felt his heartbeat in that touch. And in the seconds that her heart stood still, Daisy knew she would try for that win, whether or not he wanted her to.

Chapter 7

Beck found his mother in the kitchen cleaning the copper-tiled backsplash behind the stove. Why she cooked was beyond him, but he was glad to see her not sulking in the big easy chair where she and Dad had always snuggled. She looked good, actually had color in her cheeks, and greeted him with a genuine hug and a kiss.

“How you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m well.” She patted her growing belly. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to come along with you?”

“No, you don’t have to. But you’re a sweetie to offer. Did you go to the iceworks the other night?”

“I did.”

“By yourself?” she asked in a tone that implied she had already deduced the answer.

“Why do you ask?”

“I haven’t been a complete hermit since your father’s death. I talk to Blu on the phone once in a while. She said her son Malakai was all in a huff because he saw his daughter with my son. I only have one son—at the moment—so...”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.