“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,