Dear Reader,
One of my favourite types of heroes is the hard-boiled detectiveâ¦oh, not too hard-boiled, but the kind of rough-and-tumble guy who can dish it out and take it, whoâs world-weary and cynical but just ready to fall for the right woman.
Ross Kavanagh is just that sort of guy. First introduced in Chasing Midnight, heâs an ex-cop who was thrown off the force for a crime he didnât commit. Being a cop was his whole life, and now heâs rudderless, waiting for a chance to prove his innocenceâ¦when he is reunited with his former love, proper Englishwoman (and werewolf) Gillian Maitland.
For Gillian, seeing Ross again is painful but necessaryâher son, Toby, has run away to America to find his fatherâ¦none other than Ross himself. Ross didnât know that his brief affair with Gillian had produced a child, and now heâs determined to claim his fatherly rights. The problem is that heâs only a quarter werewolf, unable to Change, and thusâby the laws of Gillianâs traditionalist werewolf clanâan unfit mate.
Now Ross has two things to prove: that heâs worthy of Gillian, and that heâs innocent of the crime that changed his life forever. But first he has to acknowledge his love for the woman who left him so many years ago, and she must defy her father and risk abandoning the life sheâs knownâby recognising that her love for Ross outweighs even the dangers of defying her clan and provoking its jealous enemies.
I hope youâll enjoy reading Come the Night as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Susan Krinard
Cumbria, England, 1910
âCHANGE, DAMN YOU!â
Her fatherâs voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, but to Gillian it sounded like a shout. She curled into a tighter ball and concentrated as hard as she could.
Change. Oh, please Change.
It seemed as if her body was doing everything possible to resist, everything possible to make Papa angrier with her. Heâd already chastised her numerous times for lagging so far behind most loup-garou children.
âYou arenât trying hard enough,â heâd accused. âYou wish to shirk your responsibilities. Well, I wonât have it. Youâll do as I tell you, even if I have to beat it into you.â
Gillian had believed him. Heâd resorted to the belt more times than she could remember, and for far less terrible infractions than this. But oh, if she could only please him. The sun would come out in his eyes then, and the beatings would be forgotten.
She wanted so badly to please him.
Change.
She squeezed her eyes shut with such force that little white lights danced behind her eyelids. Her muscles twitched and protested. She imagined what it would be like when she became a wolfâ¦how different the world would seem, how beautiful, how perfect.
Youâll be like the others. Youâll belong.
Without understanding why she did so, she let her mind go blank and her body relax. Her arms and legs went limp. She could still hear Papaâs voice, but it seemed very far away. A softness flowed through her like liquid sunlight.
And then something shifted, as if invisible gears had clicked into place. She had expected it to hurtâsurely something so difficult would have to hurtâbut it didnât. There was nothing strange about it at all. One moment she was a fourteen-year-old girlâneither particularly pretty nor unusually bright, as her father so often reminded her. The next she was crouched on four large paws, and the universe was exploding with sounds and smells she had never known in all her life as a human.
She straightened and shook out her golden fur. There was nothing awkward about her now, nothing to make Papa ashamed. She looked up at him, daring to allow herself a shining moment of hope.
Papa was smiling. The warmth of his approval spilled over Gillian, bathing her in relief and joy. She jumped up high, twisted in midair, landed again as lightly as a feather. Every muscle and tendon obeyed her to perfection. She turned toward the wood behind the house, longing to escape into the fells, to feel the power of her new shape in all its glory.
But it was not to be. âEnough,â Papa said. âI have business to attend to.â
He had already turned away by the time she Changed back. The crisp morning air brought goose pimples to Gillianâs naked skin. She pulled on the dress she had left lying over a bench, skinny and plain and awkward once more, and berated herself for her foolish expectations. Why should there be a celebration just because she could finally do what any werewolf was supposed to do? Why should this day be any different?
She slipped her shoes and trudged through the kitchen garden to the servantsâ entrance, praying that no one would see her. Not even Cookâs sympathy would make her feel better now. Cook was only human and couldnât possibly understand.