Present DayMy motorcycle purrs like a tiger beneath me as I lean into a curve on a remote highway, taking the turn a little too quickly. Adrenaline skitters through me, and I laugh out loud when I can sense the road only inches from my leather boots. Danger makes me feel alive, more than anything else has in years, so it’s par for the course for me to take a few chances here and there. Once through the curve, I straighten out on a long stretch of empty road as flat as a board beneath a sunset sky.I like sunset in New Mexico. It’s the only time I see color in this desert country. Everything’s brown—brown mesas, brown dirt, brown rocks, green shrubs that are so dry they’re a hair shy of brown. I miss the green mountains of Montana, the colorful wildflowers, the big blue sky. The sky here isn’t ever brown, but when temps soar into the nineties, into triple digits, the sky turns colorless. Might as well be riding my bike on Mars.I open up the throttle and shoot forward, taking advantage

The front door is open to the evening air, spilling the mouthwatering scent of fried food and beer into the lot. I bypass a large group standing around just inside the doors, all of them with glasses in hand, then weave through a sea of high top tables to get to the bar.The bar’s magnificent—dark, heavy wood that’s as aged as a fine wine. The same rich wood lines the wall behind the bar, planks intersected by mirrors and shelves holding rows and rows of liquor. It gives the whole area a kind of rustic, pirate ship feel.I’m not even seated on one of the high-backed stools before the bartender comes to greet me. He’s a tall, lanky man with limbs that seem too stretched for his body and a head full of thick gray hair. His name tag declares him “Joe.” The owner, maybe.He tosses a white rag over his shoulder and gives me a lopsided smile that seems more genuine than I’m used to. “You look like a whiskey girl.”Just the word whiskey sends fury racing through me.It’s an immediate, viscer

Slouching casually against the booth seat, I grip my glass in one hand and go for my best bored voice. “You’re a hard man to find.”Kian raises an eyebrow, then lifts the menu back up to peruse the selections. “You didn’t find me.”I reach out and slam my palm into the laminated paper, knocking it to the table.“What the hell are you?” I snap.He purses his lips for a moment, the first sign of emotion I’ve seen on his face. “I’m a shif—”“Bullshit,” I cut in before he even finishes speaking. “You’re not a shifter. You’re more than that.”Joe appears next to the table and slides my change across the sticky surface. He glances between me and Kian, then raises an eyebrow at me. “You forgot your change.”“Thanks,” I say and peel off a ten for him.With one last suspicious glance between us, Joe leaves us to the rising tension.Kian leans forward, lacing his fingers on the table top. With his elbows out and his chest so fucking broad to begin with, the position makes him loom, makes his bo

The sun’s hanging so low on the horizon that it’s already night inside the trees. That works to my advantage, given my near-perfect night vision in wolf form.Of course, that means Kian has the same advantage.Kian’s huge, muscular wolf crashes through the forest much faster than I expected. But despite his speed, he’s loud. I can hear every thundering beat of his paws on the dirt, and the undergrowth rattles beneath him. I keep my vision trained on him, but I focus on my hearing.Even if I lose sight, I won’t lose him.Then he stumbles.It’s luck. Pure dumb fuckery of luck. The wolf stumbles over something on the ground, and he goes down hard. Kian rolls twice and lands with his legs splayed.I’m on top of him before he can stand.I latch my teeth to his scruff and use my momentum to throw him over my body. He slams into a nearby tree trunk, all the air expelling from his lungs. The blow doesn’t stun him for long. He’s on his feet with a low, furious growl before I can follow.We lea

I toss the pills into my mouth and lean down to drink from the faucet. The water’s nasty—filtered with chemicals, nothing like the fresh, delicious well water back home. When I stand back up, I confront my reflection again, my lips peeling back from my teeth.I tug a handful of dried leaves and twigs from my long dark brown hair, leaving them in a fun pile on the countertop like I’m the Blair Witch. Turning my face to the left, I run my finger beneath a raw red scratch on my right cheekbone. Another cut, deeper than the first, is angled above my eye and through my eyebrow.Like the scar on Kian’s face.Even now, I can conjure up a vision of his face. The scar bisecting his brow, his sardonic grin, the hard glitter in his unique eyes. I hate how I can remember him in such perfect detail all these years later. Memories of our night together have been assaulting me since he showed up at Joe’s earlier, never far from the edges of my mind.Fury sets my blood boiling. I rip my t-shirt off o