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Nine months ago, Olivia had finally made the leap and moved to Swanicott Realm.
She’d hoped her new life in a land full of shifters would be different. But she’d lived so long in isolation, she found it hard to reach out to others, even to her own kind. She still didn’t have a true friend, someone she hung out with. But then life had mostly taught her to be wary of others so she held back. That she had special abilities even by Realm standards hadn’t helped her to jump into Swanicott society.
The problem had always been that just about any strong emotion brought out her wolf. She glanced down at her fingers. The moment Zane had arrived at the Elf Lords Hideaway and because of her powerful attraction to him, she’d sprouted silvery gray fur across the backs of both hands, long enough to cover the first set of knuckles.
She’d also sprouted a thick fur ruff that ran from the opposite ends of her collarbone and extended in a V down her chest to frame her cleavage. When she was completely unclothed, a similar line of fur ran from one hip bone to the other. What remained of her trimmed pubic hair matched the fur, even though she was otherwise a very blond woman.
She wondered what Mastyr Zane would think of her markings.
Ah, Zane.
He looked hot as hell sitting on his cherry red bike.
He had his long leather coat folded up and strapped to the back, which gave her a solid view of his broad shoulders. He wore snug black leather pants and hip boots, as all the Guardsmen did. Although in Zane’s case, a long row of silver skulls ran the entire outer seam of each boot. A diamond stud winked on his left earlobe and more often than she cared to admit, she’d imagined taking that lobe in her mouth and feeling the stud against her tongue.
But if the diamond wasn’t enough, he had a sexy tattoo along the right side of his neck that weakened her knees: a dagger and three red drops of blood.
Zane was all man.
He was good-looking as well, with clear blue eyes, strong, arched brows, and a tough jawline frequently covered in an attractive scruff. He had long black Guardsman hair that he wore in a woven clasp, very traditional for the Realm’s premier fighting force. All the Guardsmen grew their hair ou
t and she loved the look.
He was a tall, muscular man and the shifter part of her could look at him for hours.
As Zane revved his bike again, she sat down on the front porch of her home, preparing herself to make use of yet another strange power she possessed. In addition to cloaking herself, she could track along with Zane wherever he went in the realm, without ever leaving her house. She called the power ‘ghosting’, because she felt like a spirit when she made use of it, traveling with Zane completely apart from her corporeal self.
As he took off, the rumble of his bike blasted the small, two-lane street.
She followed along, ghosting with him as though living inside his mind, seeing everything that he saw and hearing every sound that hit his eardrums.
The forest opened up to a level but rocky stretch of land, the road narrowing to a single-lane. Much of Swanicott was in a rough state, something she also loved about this realm, from the rugged beaches to the tall mountains.
Zane slowed, taking an even narrower side path, no doubt because he enjoyed the challenge of navigating a more difficult trail.
Though she remained cloaked on the porch, she traveled on and on with him, her heart beating hard in her chest.
She loved this part of the journey, with Maris Luna off his right shoulder, as well as a cliff that dropped sharply to the beach fifty feet below. On his left, a grassy incline led to a ridge and more mixed forest, some of the trees in autumn splendor and the pines majestic and dark green. Huge gray boulders jutted everywhere.
All the while, the ocean glittered beneath a large moon.
She didn’t know how it was possible, but she saw everything through her ghosting vision as though the world was lit in a warm glow. Of course, her shifter vision was similar so that when she took on her wolf form and ran, she could see the land around her in the same way. Her human vision was less useful, night being just plain dark.
The narrow trail had lots of dips and rises, twists and turns, but Zane took it at top speed. She sensed his excitement, which ramped up her own.
She followed a number of Realm blogs that kept her informed about all aspects of Zane’s life, including his love of motorcycles. When she moved to Swanicott, she’d read everything written about him.
She knew that Zane was still sad about having lost his wife. His grief explained a lot about his behavior as did his constant concern for the safety of his people. The problem was that Olivia knew something about Zane’s wife that troubled her deeply. She just didn’t know when or if she should ever tell the Mastyr of Swanicott the truth since this wasn’t her information to share.
Contrary to the evidence of so much blood left behind in Zane’s home, Emily hadn’t died in an Invictus attack. Instead, she was alive and well, living in the small town of Freeport, Maine, where Olivia had grown up, and had done so for the past five years. She owned a thriving art gallery and was building a solid reputation as a landscape artist.
Before Olivia had come to Swanicott, she’d happened on the gallery and using her cell had snapped a few photos, including several of the artist herself. Only later, after cruising the Realm internet had she discovered the identity of the woman: Zane’s wife, Emily.
Olivia knew all about the bloody kitchen floor, which had led her to conclude that the woman had faked her own death, left Swanicott, and started a new life in the U.S. But why she had abandoned a man of Zane’s character and worth made no sense at all. Olivia thought him one of the finest men she’d ever known. He was physically powerful, held strong values, and was completely devoted to serving his realm.
What else could a woman possibly need?
Suddenly, Zane began to slow, then came to a halt, his muscular legs spread wide to keep the heavy bike balanced and upright.
