Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
If she shifted in the craft, she’d probably knock out the pilot with the energy she released. Right now, she didn’t care. She tried again, focusing all of her remaining energy—and then nothing. Sparks flashed behind her eyes.
This time, when unconsciousness took her, she stayed under.
Jackson drove slowly through yet another storm, snowflakes splattering against the windshield as he made his way back from the office. A catalog for wedding dresses sat on the seat beside him. The owner of the clothing shop, Mrs. Plankton, had marked several pages that she said Emily would love, and the female wouldn’t let him leave until he agreed to take it with him.
Next to the catalog sat a softly rustling bag holding three different kinds of ice cream.
How odd that he’d mated a female he’d dreamed about for years and still had no clue what kind of ice cream she preferred. He doubted Emily Nightsom would consider ice cream a decent dinner, but it was one he’d had often enough. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought of her waiting for him at home. His home. Their home. The word settled deep inside him with a sense of rightness.
Did she want to get married? A lot of modern wolves did these days, though the idea had never crossed his mind until now. His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. He had his great-grandmother’s ring, which had been a present to her from his great-grandfather when they’d opened the Embervault Mine. The ring was tucked away in one of the safes back at the house, waiting for the right moment. The right female.
The band was platinum, sleek and simple, with a deep black onyx stone set in the center, flanked by two smaller diamonds. Elegant, timeless, and fitting for Emily. With her platinum-blond hair and eyes so dark they nearly matched the stone, it was as if the ring had been waiting for her.
He wasn’t a romantic guy. Never had been.
But Emily made him think of things like that. Considering she’d kept her mother’s doilies all these years, he figured she might appreciate a family heirloom.
The truck slid over the fresh snow as he turned onto the long drive leading home, anticipation humming through his veins. Turning onto the long drive, his pulse quickened when his headlights swept across the front of the house—and the open door.
What the fuck?
Ice cream forgotten, he threw the truck into park and launched into the snowdrifts, boots pounding up the porch steps. The front door banged against the frame as he rushed inside.
“Emily!” His bellow echoed through the room, swallowed only by the crackle of the fire and the whistle of the wind through the open doorway. His breath came fast and hard as his gaze swept over the room.
The table near the fireplace had been knocked over, and one of the heavy iron fire pokers lay abandoned on the floor. Dropping into a crouch, Jackson picked it up and froze.
Blood.
His vision sharpened, going both predator-clear and tunnel-dark with fury. The familiar scent of berries lingered in the air. His muscles locked, so close to shifting that his claws burned beneath his skin. For the first time in decades, his control nearly slipped.
He inhaled again and then staggered back.
Garlic.
Rage surged through him, fierce and hot enough to tear through bone. How the hell had they gotten inside? His head whipped toward the keypad near the front door. The small red light blinked, signaling that the system had been disengaged.
“Damn it.” His voice was a snarl as he bolted back outside, snow crunching hard beneath his boots.
The bitter air sliced through his lungs as he sniffed again. Faint. Too faint. But it was there.
Emily.
Shifting mid-stride, he hit the ground as a massive wolf and tore through the snowdrifts. His paws hammered the ground, heart slamming against his rib cage. He followed her trail through the forest, trees whipping past in a blur until the path stopped abruptly in a small clearing a mile away.
Jackson slid to a halt, panting hard as he scanned the area. Snow swirled in the air, masking the scents, but he could still smell it. The burn of fuel. The churn of blades against the air.
A helicopter.
A growl rumbled from his chest as he shifted back into his human form, barefoot in the snow as he scouted the clearing. She’d been there. And then someone had taken her.
His hands clenched into fists so tight that his nails bit into his palms, but he forced himself to breathe. To think. Fear clawed at his throat, primal and savage, but he shoved it down.
He had to focus.
Shifting again, he ran full-out as a wolf, snow flying beneath his paws as he raced back to the house. His mind was already moving faster than his legs when he morphed back to human form.