Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“There are things you don’t know about the world, Scarlet. Things we haven’t been ready to tell you, but this… this discovery has brought forward an inevitable discussion.”
“Inevitable?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Listen through to the end, okay.” He sighs and looks at the ceiling, searching for inspiration. “There was a time when the goddess, our goddess, grew tired of humankind, destroying her forests, slaughtering animals without thought, poisoning the rivers. So she gave a few humans something new. Animal aspects. Wolf forms. Bear forms. A reminder of the beauty of the wild. It was supposed to be a lesson in humility and connection.”
I stare, not blinking, holding my body tight.
“She thought it would teach compassion. If your brother could turn into a bear, maybe you wouldn’t hunt bears for sport. If your lover could become a hawk, maybe you’d leave the skies alone. Your lover could tell you of the freedom of the hawk and the beauty of the skies, and you’d think before you acted in a way to destroy either.”
My arms tighten instinctively around the child. “This sounds like a myth.”
“Mythology is often rooted in distant truth. We make stories from the parts of history that seem too distant to be real.”
My lips part, but no words come. It’s too much. Too strange. My mind reels, trying to fold this wild tale into something logical, something grounded. Shifters? A goddess punishing mankind with animal blood? It’s the kind of thing you read in dusty old books or hear in half-remembered folklore, not something whispered in a quiet room, by men you know to be serious. Not something that makes your skin prickle because some part of you knows… saw the truth of it. I shake my head, more to clear it than in denial. “So it’s not just a story?”
He shakes his head. “It’s real.”
“So, what happened?”
He looks at me then, and the raw and haunted depth of his gaze spears me. “The shifters were hunted. Rejected. Feared. Packs scattered. Many died. Those who survived learned to hide in plain sight.”
My voice is barely a whisper. “So, you’re saying that this baby is a shifter. A wolf-human. A werewolf.”
“Yes.”
I blink, heart thudding, glancing between the three men who have been my rescuers and my company, my friends and my lovers, dread swelling until it almost chokes me.
“How do you know this story, Nixon?”
“We’re not what you think, Scarlet.” he says softly. “We’re the same as this child.”
The night of the attack rushes back: the snarling wolves, Nixon’s inhuman strength, the wolf in the house. This can’t be right. It’s stories. Old folklore. The kind of thing my mom would drag out to warn me of the dangers of the world.
“You’re saying you’re… shifters.”
“Yes…men… and wolves.”
The breath I take rattles through me. “And the night I was attacked?”
“Finn and Reed found you,” he says gently. “They fought off your attacker. Protected you. And the wolf you saw in the cabin?”
“Finn,” I murmur, heart twisting. “It was him.”
“Yes. When he changed back, you saw him in his human form.”
Everything inside me feels like it’s turning inside out. Fear and fascination war for dominance, but I have a million questions, and the most pressing ones involve this child. “So, this baby…” I glance down, brushing a thumb across her tiny cheek. “She’s a shifter, too?”
“Yes,” he says. “Born to a woman named Aura. Mate to a neighboring alpha, Gregory. He claimed her as his mate before she was ready. Then she was attacked by a rival. Left for dead. Gregory cast her aside because she was carrying a bastard child.”
I can barely breathe. “She’s a baby… an innocent.”
“She’s a miracle,” he says. “And a warning. Shifters are almost always men. In all our years amongst our own kind, this is the first female shifter any of us have seen.”
I stare at the child, so small and precious against my skin, and warmth blooms in my chest.
Then I look at Reed. “Show me,” I say, voice steady.
He flinches. “Scarlet…”
“I need to see it,” I insist. “I need you to show me it’s real.”
He meets my eyes, holding them captive. The air shift before it happens with a release of invisible pressure, laced with electricity, like a storm on the horizon. His body quivers, muscles tightening, spine curving. In seconds, he’s gone and, in his place, stands a wolf, huge, sleek, golden-eyed, and silent.
My breath leaves me in a rush, overwhelmed.
It’s not a costume. It can’t be. And it’s not a trick. Reed’s clothes are in a pool at the wolf’s feet.
It’s a real wolf… a wolf housing the heart and mind of a man.
Reed lowers his head to me like he’s bowing.
I reach out my hand, filled with awe and wonder, and when he nuzzles into my palm, gently licking my skin, I want to laugh out loud and cry, too.