Page 4 of The Wolf

The shifter scoffed. “What wasn’t right was the way he was hunting you. That was not fun sport between the two of you. Youreekedof terror.” His upper lip curled. “Even if you don’t give me the information I seek, I will not harm you, nor will I let this worthless male go without punishment.”

“No one gives something for nothing.”

He smiled. “You’re not wrong, but I’ll make an exception this time.”

Scarlet’s gaze darted to Tarros and then back to the shifter. He’d done her a service, and while he wasn’t requiring payment, she didn’t want to be in his debt. Secrets were currency in her world. She could part with one as repayment.

“You won’t find the sheriff here. He’s in the province of Merjeri—he’s employed by the duke’s son.”

The shifter smiled but it was scary. “Thank you, lovely. I will not forget our encounter. Do you need assistance home?”

She shook her head no. “I’ll be fine.”

“Then get home. This is no place for a lady.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She ran for the river, using the rocks to help her cross. As she reached the other side, Scarlet hesitated, glancing back at the mysterious shifter as he grabbed Tarros by the ankle. “What do you plan to do with him?” she yelled.

“Make sure he can never harm a female again.”

“You won’t kill him?” She couldn’t have that on her conscience. While Tarros was a bad egg, his family wasn’t. She couldn’t do that to them.

“No.” The shifter looked put out. “But he’ll wish he was dead.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“The only thanks I need is your silence. Can I trust you?”

“You can.” She was a collector of secrets. What was one more? “Safe travels.”

“Know that I have your scent memorized.” The shifter dipped his head. “And that I hate liars.”

A threat. She wasn’t even offended.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scarlet called back as she trudged away from the river.

She’d managed to escape Tarros unscathed, but would she survive her stepmother’s wrath?

TWO

SCARLET

13 YEARS AGO

Nothing exciting ever happened. Her papa always kept her in the house and he always locked her and her mum away when they had guests. Scarlet frowned as she stared at the tangled yarn between her knitting needles. She glanced at her mum from the corner of her eye and slumped. Her mum’s scarf was so perfect, so pretty, nothing like her mangled mess.

“I’m never gonna get it,” she complained, dropping the knotted yarn into her lap. “I can’t do it.”

“That’s not true, my love. It just takes practice.”

Scarlet crossed her tiny arms and huffed. “I hate it.”

Her mum smiled and set her scarf down on the floor and rose gracefully from her chair near the fire. She knelt down on the lush dark blue rug next to the footstool Scarlet sat on and squinted at the yarn.

“You’re getting there. Look how even your rows are!”

Scarlet eyed her scarf and then her mum’s. “It’s not like yours, Mama.”

“That’s what makes it so special. Being unique is a gift. You don’t want your scarf to be like mine. But if you want tofinishyour gift for your papa, you have to keep going.” She ran a warm hand down Scarlet’s cheek and smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Patience and perseverance are important, my love, even in the little things.”

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