Product Description
Thrust into a world full of creatures she never dreamed existed, Gina “Red” Santiago is coming to grips with the fact that she's a werewolf while adjusting to her new life in the small town of Nuria. The transition isn’t easy, especially since her boyfriend, alpha werewolf Morgan Hunter, is called away on an important mission.
Unfortunately, someone doesn't want Red to get too comfortable with her new life – someone who will resort to anything, including murder, to run her out of town. Alone among hostile strangers, Red must fight to prove her innocence, to catch a ruthless murderer, and to preserve her relationship with an increasingly distant Morgan.
About the Author
JORDAN SUMMERS is an ex-flight attendant with a penchant for huge bookstores and big dumb action movies. She prefers quiet dinners with friends over maddening crowds. Happily married to her very own Highlander, they split their time between two continents. Summers is the author of Red, the first novel featuring Gina Santiago.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Red stood naked in the barren valley. The cool desert air brushed her skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. She shivered and took a deep breath, closing her eyes to picture the wolf in her mind.
Eyes the color of autumn stared back at her from a shaggy elongated face. Not quite animal and definitely not human. White teeth glowed against its black pelt. Deadly claws curled into minidaggers, rearing to score the earth. Whether on two legs or on four, the beast looked impressive. And dangerous.
She felt its hunger. Its need for survival. The desire to escape. The urge to run blindly into the darkness rode her hard. She longed to feel the dirt and compacted sand beneath rough pads. Red reached out, drawing the vision nearer, beckoning it to come. She embraced that which she feared.
Close. Closer. Almost there.
Pain seared her flesh, causing her back to contort. Her head jerked to the night sky, her mouth open in a silent scream. Yanked by the fire coursing through her veins, she could no longer control her movements. Her muscles bunched under her skin. Bones in her hand snapped as the beast fought its way out. Red shrieked and threw open her eyes. To night was the night. She could feel it. The change had to work.
Her body continued to coil and bulge, twisting into unnatural shapes until Red thought she'd go mad. Her vision dimmed and fear engulfed her. The pain suddenly stopped.
Red looked down at her gnarled, broken hand, expecting to see a smattering of fur—or at least a misshapen paw where her fingers should be. One claw protruded through the top of her fingernail and blood dripped fat drops onto the thirsty desert floor—a glistening scarlet reminder that she'd failed once more.
"Damn it!" she shouted. It had been weeks since she'd moved to Nuria in the Republic of Arizona. Weeks since she'd first attempted the change. And she still couldn't control the wolf inside her.
Red stared at her hand, watching the bones pop back into place. Her body had already started to repair the damage. More excruciating pain followed. It was the same every night. She would've thought that she'd be used to it by now. But she wasn't. Red glanced over at Morgan, who'd been waiting quietly in the distance, just in time to see the disappointment on his face.
Disapproval she could deal with, but disappointment . . .
She'd spent her whole life trying not to disappoint anyone. She had succeeded with her parents and her grandfather. At least Red thought she had. But now, thinking about it, how could she be sure? Maybe they'd lied. Maybe like Morgan, they'd hid their disappointment and she'd been too young to realize it. She debated whether to try one more time. She glanced at the night sky. It was getting late.
They'd been out here for two hours already while she attempted to make the change. Two wasted hours with only a claw to show for it. Red picked up a rock and threw it at a tank, half buried under the desert. It was a rotting reminder of the last world war, which brought about the dissolution of countries and fostered the development of self- governing republics. Those republics now took up 70 percent of the landmass in the world. The other 30 percent fell into no- man's-land, a place of utter lawlessness. The rock pinged off the rusting metal, then dropped with a thud to the ground.
Red picked up another rock and sent it hurling through the air out of sight. She had no doubt that the town would know about her failure by morning. Morgan wouldn't lie, if someone asked. She didn't expect him to, but sometimes she wished he would. How much longer could she go before the townsfolk decided to run her out of Nuria?
She sighed. Werewolves who couldn't control their change were as dangerous to the town as a loaded laser rifle in the hands of a criminal. Then there was the damage they could do to themselves. Since they'd been created by the old order to fight as super soldiers in the last war, adult- size wolves could take several laser pistol blasts before they even realized they'd been hit. It would take a couple of more after that to finish the job. It was easy to injure your body without knowing it when in wolf form. Not that she'd know firsthand, since she'd spent the majority of her time without fur.
Morgan's influence as sheriff would only protect Red for so long. Soon that would end, then it would be open season on her. The pressure from that invisible clock only made things worse. Morgan hid his worry well, but Red could still sense it. Hard to keep things like that from someone you're sleeping with. He hadn't come right out and said anything. Morgan never would. It wasn't his way. There'd be enough people in town to do it for him.
Red glanced over at Morgan's shirtless form. Scars etched his chest and abdomen, carving out a tragic story. He hadn't had those scars when she'd first met him. His cousin Kane had put them there, thanks to her. In his madness, he'd almost killed Morgan.
She couldn't believe how close she'd come to losing him. What would she have done then? Gone back to the International Police Tactical Team? Doubtful. Found a new job? Who would hire her? She was only qualified to do one job and that was hunt unknowns. Maybe she'd have retired. And do what? Live on dirt, since she didn't have enough credits to support herself. And Red absolutely refused to ask her grandfather for help.
The wind picked up. Morgan had his dark head thrown back, letting the desert breeze caress his skin. Wildness surrounded him, oozing out of his pores like the sweet musk that covered his body. The man was magnificent in his rugged beauty. His wolf brushed his flesh in a primitive caress. Despite his civilized reserve, it always lurked just beneath the surface, a barely leashed sexual being that was impossible to ignore. Even now he drew her to him without trying, the aura of dominant power second nature.
Red's body tightened in anticipation.
She wanted to change just to be near him. The sensual creature inside of her itched to embrace this newfound ability, even though she'd never had a sexual nature before coming to Nuria. Everything involving the wolf was happening too fast. What if she couldn't control it? What if she released the beast inside her and it killed someone? Did she want the death of a Nurian citizen on her conscience? What if she killed Morgan? Could she take that chance? Red shuddered at the thought.
There was no way she could live with herself if she killed an innocent. Morgan would be forced to put her down—no matter his feelings for her and their burgeoning relationship. Nuria had survived this long by following a few simple rules: 1. Never tell an outsider that you're an Other. 2. Do not hunt humans. 3. Shape- shifters must be able to control their changes.
Violation of rule number two garnered an automatic death sentence. Breaking rule number three came with two forms of punishment: banishment or death.
Neither was appealing, but Red could live with those rules. At least she hoped she could. When she'd agreed to the terms, she had thought learning to shift wouldn't take her long. She'd always been a fast learner, even as a child. Her parents had praised her academic and athletic prowess until the day they were killed. Her abilities hadn't changed as far as she could tell. If anything, they'd gotten better. So why was she having problems, when she'd already shifted in her sleep on several occasions? How hard could it be to do it consciously?
Apparently, very hard.
Her finger burned as the claw finished receding into her hand. In two weeks, she'd never so much as gotten a single whisker, much less a pelt of fur. She had to be doing something wrong, but Red didn't know what that might be. She'd followed Morgan's instructions to the letter. She was good at following instructions, when they suited her. Morgan had told her to hold the image in her mind, bring it toward her, then let her body do the rest.
Watching him shift in seconds, seeing all the muscles in his body spring to life, made it seem so easy. His enthusiasm was palpable and addictive enough to fuel her in the beginning. He'd continued their nightly ritual until he realized his presence was more of a hindrance than a help. Maggie Sheppard, his assistant at the sheriff's station, had taken over her lessons. But after a frustrating week of false starts, she'd given up and suggested Red do the same. So Morgan came back, and he'd been with her ever since. Her gaze strayed in his direction.
Morgan stayed in the woods, silently moving along the edge. He'd watched night after night, partly to bear witness and partly to make sure she didn't do anything she shouldn't while in her other form. So far, there wasn't a chance of that happening, since Red had yet to shift.
Red could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He wanted her to succeed. His support was palpable. He pushed her hard because he knew she could take it. And she loved him for it, even though the pressure had st...
