After sacrificing himself to a vampire to save her, he’d spent a month as a paralytic. His magic had eventually healed him, but his uncle, who was also High Councilor, suspected Lothar had become territorial over her.
It was a serious defect in their kind. A shapeshifting male with Territorial Aggression could not be trusted. At all. Not around humans, and not around other werewolves. They were usually put to death.
Danielle remembered the day she had been called in and questioned by the Council. She’d sworn under oath that she had not entered into any agreement that might make it difficult for her to bond with a genetically compatible mate—which Lothar was not. The Council had voted, and his uncle overruled.
Danielle and Lothar were allowed to remain together. They could hunt and track as one. It was a trait not easily dismissed, not even by his uncle.
There’d been a time, when she’d known with all her heart that Lothar would be hers. He kept his distance from her physically these days.
She took a moment to widen her search, focusing her senses outward. The thump of Nick’s heart shifted to the back of her awareness as she centered in on any sign of vampires. She heard rodents shuffling in the undergrowth, birds twittering and hopping from branch to branch. A squirrel chattered. There was no sign of danger.
She lifted her head, taking another whiff to pinpoint Nick’s location. Once she’d found him, she chose a nice spot where she could look down through the shelter of tree branches, and settled in with her head on her front paws. Her ears flicked as she studied him.
Nick bent, examining something along one of the trails commonly used by hikers, probably one Jason had walked. Danielle whined. It just figured that Detective Shepard would snoop around until he’d found the killer. If he looked hard enough, he would find it all right.
He straightened, continuing on his way. Nick was tall, like Lothar, but they had different builds. Lothar was streamlined, without an unnecessary ounce on his frame. Nick outweighed him. No fat, but plenty of bulk. His hair was a rich brown, darker than hers, and it fell over his forehead just messy enough to make her want to fix it for him. Danielle remembered from their first encounter that his eyes were an unusual teal color.
He had a handgun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. She snorted. That little pistol would be no use against a vampire.
She doubted it would stop a bear.
Danielle backed away, standing there a moment, considering what to do next. She smelled the air again and knew Nick would be safe, for now. She could run back to the cabin for her clothing, then walk out and find him again as a woman.
A surge shot up her spine, a playful growl filling her throat. Turning, she loped back to the cabin.
Darcy Branwyn 
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