Kambriel, their aunt, who was their fathers twin sister (and a vampire), had fallen in love with the vampire Johnny Santiago and planned to wed in Paris, where she currently lived.
You might find yourself a European werewolf, Daisy said, knowing her brothers strong desire to find a woman and settle down. Yet for some reason Stryke was never compelled to put down roots with any of the women in the area. Not interesting enough, hed often lament.
Thats the plan, he agreed. A tangle, eh? Im not sure youll find the excitement youre looking for in Tangle Lake, Daisy. Most exciting thing lately Well, hell, what about that ghost wolf? You think its a werewolf?
Yes, she answered quickly. And then, No. Maybe. I dont know. Im doing a story on it for the local paper. Or Im trying to.
Whatever it is, be careful.
I will. Do you think its a werewolf?
Yes, Stryke said. And then, No. Maybe. I dont know. Id have to see the thing up close. And Im not sure I want to. Though I can promise Trouble would like to have a go at it.
The eldest brother of the siblings, Trouble (whose real name was Jack) had a thing for picking fights and pushing people to their breaking point. But he did it in a playful way. Unfortunately, most people did not get his confrontational humor.
I have to go, Stryke said. He nodded toward a crowd of young women bundled up in bright ski pants and boots. Pom-poms bobbed on their heads and mittens, plus a few at their boot ties. A cavalcade of sex kittens. Got a date.
A tangle?
If Im lucky. He winked. You going to the fireworks?
Kelyn and I usually head out together. Ill see you later, Stryke.
He kissed her cheek, a cold smack that made her giggle, and strode off toward the pom-pom kittens.
Sighing, Daisy tugged out the paperback she always took along to public events and found the bookmarked page. She wore gloves with rubber tips on the fingers, designed for operating touch devices. Books were the ultimate touch device. Immersing herself in the fiction, she strolled slowly along the packed snow embankment that edged the hockey rink where makeshift teams had gathered to play. Should have brought her skates. What she wouldnt give to slap sticks for a while...
All of a sudden, someone charged into her. Daisy dropped her book and made to shove away the annoying guy, but she paused when she saw who it was. The sexy wolf shed run into the other night at the edge of the forest.
What is it with you and the need to ram into me every chance you get? she asked.
Uh, sorry. I had my eye on the puck. He tossed the hockey puck he picked up from the snow toward the guys outfitted in knee pads and skates waiting on the ice. Besides, this is the first time Ive rammed into you. If youll remember correctly
Yes, yes, I recall. So youre playing with the mortals?
Exclusivity to ones breed is not wise in this small town. He swept a hand toward the players who had continued the game without him. Theyre a great bunch of guys. I love hockey. There you go.
I like hockey, too, but I dont think the boys would like a woman joining them.
Probably not. All the girls are over at the food booths making cocoa and serving us men.
Daisys jaw tightened. I dont serve any man.
Beck swerved his gaze toward her. Huh? Oh. Right. Sorry, that was
An asshole thing to say.
Whoa. This is fast going down an icy slope I dont want to slip on. Lets start over. Tugging off a leather glove, he then bent to pick up her book and handed it to her. Sorry. The pages got snow on them. Dont you have one of those fancy e-readers like I see everyone carrying nowadays?
I have a few of them, Daisy said proudly. Sometimes I prefer the touch, feel and smell of a real book.
She pressed the closed book to her nose and inhaled. Snow had dampened a few of the pages, but she couldnt be upset because she also owned the digital copy of this book.
Its so personal to hold a book in my hand. I can open it to any place I like with a few flutters of the page. I can trace my fingers down the words, rereading phrases that speak to me. The stories make my heart race and my skin flush. My toes curl when Ive read a well-crafted sentence. Mmm...
Uh...
She glanced at Beck, whose mouth hung open. Oh, those eyes could attract wise men on a clear winter night beneath a velvet star-filled sky.
He scratched his head. You just made reading sound sexual.
So she had. Books turn me on. Daisy resumed her stroll along the snowbank shoveled up around the rink.
The wolf in hockey skates followed, blades sinking into the packed snow. Really? They turn you on?
She nodded. She wasnt sure shed ever find a man equal to the heroes she read about in her stories, but she held out hope. Of course, the stories were fiction. She knew that. But it was okay to dream. And besides, when she finally did find a hero of her own, she felt sure shed recognize him immediately for his gleaming honor and smoldering sensuality.
So its one of those sex books? he asked.
Daisy stopped and toed her boot into a chunk of snow. Oh, she pitied the poorly read. Just what implies a sex book in your mind? She waved her book between the two of them. Anything with a pink cover?
Anything with sex in it, I guess.
He was out of his league, and he knew it. Daisy smiled triumphantly. Points to the womens team.
Says the wolf whos probably never read more than fast-food menus and car manuals.
Dont forget The Iliad. I may have been home-schooled, but I dont think theres a way for any breathing teenager to avoid that snorefest.
Daisy rolled her eyes. She wasnt much for mythology, but wouldnt admit to him that she agreed with his assessment of the classic tome. That would be too much like flirting. Of which she did not partake.
I have read a lot of car manuals, he added. I own a shop at the edge of Burnham.
Hockey, cars and tromping through the forest without a shirt on. Such a guy you are.
He stabbed the hockey stick into the snow and propped both wrists on the end of it. I cant tell if youre admonishing me or trying to flirt awkwardly.
I Stymied, Daisy turned her gaze away. She did not flirt. Because if she did, it would be exactly as hed impliedawkward.
One of the men guiding the puck across the ice with the mortal crowd called to Beck to return. He waved and said hed be right there.
Shoving up the sleeve of his jersey to reveal the long thermal sleeve beneath, he winked at her. If youre in the mood to test your flirtation skills later, come find me.
I, er
Without waiting for what would surely be the awkward reply of the century, Beck tromped off, blades cutting hashed tracks toward the ice.
Daisy couldnt help but notice the flex of his quadriceps with each stride. Clad in jeans and a fitted long shirt, over which he wore a big loose hockey jersey, the attire highlighted his awesome physique.
Nothing new, she said to herself. All the wolves in the local packs were ripped. It was the very nature of a werewolf to be so muscular.
Unless of course he was Kelyn, her youngest brother. Who wasnt actually a werewolf at all, but rather, had inherited their mothers faery DNA. He was lean and lithe, yet her father deemed him the most deadly of all his boys. Faeries were swift and malicious, Malakai would often say.
Unless of course he was Kelyn, her youngest brother. Who wasnt actually a werewolf at all, but rather, had inherited their mothers faery DNA. He was lean and lithe, yet her father deemed him the most deadly of all his boys. Faeries were swift and malicious, Malakai would often say.
Daisy hated to think of Kelyn as malicious. And he was not. She hoped he wouldnt develop a complex because of her fathers words.
No longer interested in the book, she stuffed it in her coat pocket and wandered under a massive willow tree where a half dozen tween girls were sipping hot chocolate and cider from thermoses and texting on their cell phones, fingertips bared by half gloves.
Why is your hair pink? one of them asked as Daisy walked by.
Because my mom dropped a can of paint on it when I was born, she offered, smirking. Why is yours red?
The befreckled girl shrugged. Yours is pretty. I wish mine wasnt so ugly.
Yours is gorgeous, Daisy offered. Dont ever let anyone tell you differently. Its good to be unique, not like everyone else.
The girl sat up a little straighter. The friend beside her, sporting a hot-chocolate mustache, nodded in agreement.
Whats the best food to get today? Daisy asked the group. Im in the mood for something sweet.
Try my grandmas chocolate peanut butter brownies. Over there. One of them pointed toward a table draped in red, around which dozens loomed. Shes selling them cheap.
Thanks. Daisy waved them off and wandered toward the food tables, her boots crunching across the snowpack.
Unique, eh? She smirked at her encouraging words. But not so unique that a womans body couldnt make up its mind whether or not to be werewolf or faery. That wasnt unique; that was just pitiful. She had to get it figured out. But she had no clue how to do so.
When she reached the table, she had to wait in line, and when only halfway to the front, a tall, blond man approached her and offered her a treat. These are awesome. I figured youd like to try one.
Are you following me? she asked as she accepted a brownie as heavy as a small kitten. She got out of line. You were just on the ice.
And then I was not. I always answer the call of my stomach. Even if it sets me back a cool ten bucks for two brownies.
What? These cost five dollars apiece? The girl had said they were cheap. Shady sales tactics at that.
Daisy bit into the thick, moist chunk of chocolate and peanut butter and sighed one of those after-orgasm kind of sighs.
Right? Beck agreed. Well worth the expense. I may never eat my mothers brownies again. Ah, thats not true. Ill chow a brownie any day. Even the five-dollar kind. Now I need something hot to wash this down with.
Over there. She pointed to a refreshment stand. He grabbed her by the free hand and led her toward where she had pointed. Did I say I wanted something to drink? Dude, we are not on a date.
I know, but I figured the brownie should earn me some chat time with you. Ill get us some cider, and theres a tree over there thats calling our names.
Do you even know my name?
He paused from digging out his wallet from a back pocket. Uh...I guess not.
Bring cider, Daisy said.
With a wink that surprised her probably more than it did him, she wandered over to the tree.
* * *
With the brownie gently clutched between his jaws, Beck headed toward the tree where the gorgeous pink-haired wolf sat. Reading while others partook of the festivities? She was a curiosity to him, and he liked that he couldnt figure her out.
He bit off a bite as he sat, catching the brownie in his palm. She snagged the foam cup of cider before hed even settled against the trunk.
I should have gotten two, he said.
Thats okay, I only want a sip. She handed him the cup.
Beck peered into the cup. It was half-empty. A sip?
She shrugged and finished off her brownie. He wanted to tweak those cat ears on top of her hat, but instead he wolfed another bite.
So who do I have the pleasure of sitting with under the maple tree this chilled and frosty January afternoon?
Daisy Blu, she said, and offered a hand to shake.
Beck gripped the cup lip with his teeth, and with brownie in one hand, shook with his free hand.
Saint-Pierre, she then said.
He dropped the cup and it almost spilled in his lap, but he made a fast-reflex save. Uh, Malakai Saint-Pierres daughter? The pack principal who makes swords for a living?
She nodded, licking her fingers clean of chocolate crumbs.
I thought he only had the boys.
Beck scanned the picnic area, filled with mortals and paranormal breeds of all sorts and sizes. Living in the next town ten miles north, he didnt know a lot of people in Tangle Lake. He kept to himself far too much. But everyone knew about Malakai Saint-Pierre.
Four boys, Daisy said. But I was here first. Who you looking for? Dont worry, my dads not around. At least, I dont think he is.
Beck stood and nodded that she follow him around the trunk. Lets sit on the other side of the tree, okay?
She settled next to him with a laugh. Are you afraid of my father?
I wouldnt say afraid, more like leery with an edge of self-preservation. Dudes not the sweetest wolf in the pack.
Yeah, hes not too keen on unaligned wolves. Which is what you are, am I right? You being Severos son?
Not for lack of your father trying to get me to join your pack.
Really? My dad has invited you to join us? Why havent you done so?
I have nothing against the Saint-Pierres. Or any of the local packs, for that matter. Joining a pack doesnt feel right to me. My father was always adamant that a man didnt need a pack to stand up for what was right within the werewolf community.
Ive heard about your father. Severo was a good man. But I have to point out the serious flaw in your sneaky attempt to hide out.
Whats that?
Now we wont be able to see my father coming.
Shit. Maybe we should
Daisy placed a hand on his knee just as Beck attempted to stand. The womans hand was warm, even in this weather, and her heat crept quickly through the jeans and to his skin. Nice. He settled against the snow-encrusted tree trunk.
Id scent him before he got too close, she said. Ill give you advance warning if you need to run. Then she smiled and tucked a swath of hair over her ear. I shouldnt be talking to you, either. But I like a little risk in my life now and then.
Dont get enough from your books?
Not exactly.
Is that why you think its a good idea to run in the forest all alone? You really should take someone with you.
Im a big girl. Ill be fine. You going to eat that last piece of brownie?
Beck held up the piece, and Daisy made a remarkable snatch with her teeth. She giggled, pressed her fingers over her mouth, then snagged the cup of cider from him, as well.
Licking his fingers clean, he could but shake his head. This one, as much as he should stay the hell away from her, he wanted to learn more about. Because getting close to Malakai Saint-Pierres daughter could prove a lesson in Stupid Things Guys Do. But at the same time: kitty ears, pink hair and an irrepressible giggle. How to resist that?