By the Tail

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Running fast and furious through the snow-covered mountains of Glacier National Park in freaking September—God, I miss Miami—Joy Bermin screeched a warning to any and all who thought to stand in her way. Currently outracing a black panther in her own four-footed cougar form, she reminded herself that being Ac-taw—a shapeshifter—truly was a blessing, and not the huge pain in the ass she’d been feeling lately.

She stopped in her tracks and listened, then sniffed at a familiar scent in the air. More feral canines. The woods seemed to be filled with wild female wolves lately. Maybe if the Gray Wolf Order would get itself together, the females might take a chance on dealing with the men in Cougar Falls instead of hiding out in the mountains.

As she thought about it, she considered her own circumstances and sighed. Her pride back in Miami had finally “gotten itself together”, yet she ran for her freedom from a stubborn cat determined to take her as mate. Quince. That idiot. That tall, dark, smoking-hot idiot.

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