Lone Wolf

Daddy.

Her stomach dropped. This hurt a million times worse than she’d thought it would. Beck wasn’t giving up and going away. She’d have to tell him the rest of Brigid’s warning. Otherwise, he would never understand why she couldn’t let him within ten miles of their child.

Thank goodness Dani was safely hidden.

Knowing she had to choose her words carefully, she squared her shoulders. “The Seer, Brigid, was very specific in her warning.”

“The Vampire Priestess? She’s also a seer?”

“Yes. Her magic is powerful and she can see things.” Another deep breath. “She warned me against you and your kind.”

“You don’t think I …” Eyes narrowed, as he stared at her, a muscle worked in his jaw. “I would never hurt a child, especially my own daughter. She meant someone else, not me.”

“More than anything, I want to believe you. But I can’t take a chance. I’m sorry, but that’s why I go alone. I trust no one. Not even you.”

Dear Reader,

There is much to celebrate in life. Oftentimes, caught up in the daily hustle and grind, we lose sight of that. Sometimes it takes a miracle to make us recognize truly how lucky we are. I try to count my blessings daily—hourly if I remember—and even the smallest things—a perfect butterfly, a blooming flower, the way the sun colors the clouds ocher—are causes for celebration.

It’s not always like that, nor will it be. I know into every life occasionally comes darkness, sweeping in and throwing a black cloak over the sun. Such is the case with my Lone Wolf, Pack Protector Anton Beck. Still mourning the loss of his sister and having given up searching for his mate, an unlikely Vampire Huntress named Marika, Beck is living a solitary life when he is granted a miracle. A daughter. Now not only are vampire/shape-shifter matches frowned upon, but since they are technically dead, Vampires are unable to bear living children. That Marika not only does this, but raises the miracle child in secret, is another thing to marvel at. That is, if Beck could see past his rage at being lied to.

Of course, a child that shouldn’t exist is very valuable and is hunted, and Beck and Marika’s journey to not only protect her but find and stop the ones who want to take her, is in itself something to celebrate. Love can clear back the blackest darkness and bring a spectacular ocher sunrise, if only you let it into your heart.

I hope you enjoy reading the Lone Wolf.

Karen Whiddon

KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amidst the Catskill Mountains of New York, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty of the rugged peaks and spun stories of love that captivated her family’s attention.

Karen now lives in North Texas, where she shares her life with her very own hero of a husband and three doting dogs. Also an entrepreneur, she divides her time between the business she started and writing the contemporary romantic suspense and paranormal romances that readers enjoy. You can e-mail Karen at [email protected] or write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans of her writing can also check out her website, www.KarenWhiddon.com.

Lone Wolf

Karen Whiddon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my husband Lonnie and my daughter Stephanie—my own two miracles

His dashboard clock showed one minute after midnight. The patrons spilling from the doorway of Addie’s Bar were well into their partying, reeling around the parking lot laughing and shouting.

Anton Beck parked his truck and turned the ignition off, feeling the loud bass thump of the music all the way out here. Smoke curled from the open windows, a blue haze that reminded him of the morning mists of Vancouver Island, one of his favorite places on earth.

But this was Alpine, Texas, and even at this late hour, heat still shimmered from the dry earth in muted waves. Now that his air conditioner no longer blew, the heat made beads of perspiration break out on his forehead. He needed to get out of the truck and begin what he’d come to do.

Still he sat, unwilling yet to take the steps necessary to take him inside. A headache had begun to throb behind his eyes, the kind that promised to explode into a full-blown migraine if he wasn’t careful. The noise level inside the bar just might be enough of a trigger to send him staggering for a quiet place to lie down. He hoped not. Not tonight, of all nights. Such a thing was not possible.

Swallowing, he hesitated. Once he stepped onto the gravel, he knew the memories would swirl around him, haunting him with the aching familiarity of grief. Stark contrast to the riotous nightlife going on in and around the bar.

A bar was the last place he wanted to be tonight, any night, actually. But this was a special night, and this was Addie’s Place. Addie was the nearest person he had to family, and this was the closest thing he had to home. He needed to say hello to her, to let her wrap him in her flower-scented arms and hug him, while feeding him tortillas and tamales. As though her rich, sinful food could help him begin healing the scars that pockmarked his soul.