Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

The book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. All rights are reserved with the exceptions of quotes used in reviews. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.

Facing the Legacy Series

©2019 Felicia Breneé

Cover Design by Cupcakes & Covers

Editing by Mary Wiles

Table of Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

About the Author

Personal Note from the Author

Appreciation

Newsletter

Dedication

To William and Abbie

Introduction

Poppy Fields had no idea the family legacy was alive until her husband brutally attacked her. The monster awakened and she became a widow. How can she trust herself to move on even when Jeremy Black confesses she has been his only desire?

Jeremy Black has stood back and watched Poppy endure the cruelties of her husband for over three years. He’d give anything to be able to step in and eliminate the problem. Out of respect for Poppy and the sanctity of her marriage, he remains just a friend. Their daughters are friends and an excellent excuse for Jeremy to check on Poppy from time to time. When the abusive husband is mysteriously attacked and killed by a bear, Jeremy confesses his love for her.

Will Jeremy’s interest in paranormal creatures pave the way for him to accept Poppy’s awakened condition? Can Poppy accept what the monster did as her destiny? Can Jeremy convince Poppy she is his only desire?

Chapter One

“You did not!” Poppy Fields threw her head back releasing a rich belly laugh.

The baby suckling at Heather Armstrong’s breast lurched with the sudden outburst.

Heather winced. “Ow, you made her bite me!”

“Sorry.” Poppy repositioned on the bed and lowered her volume. She endearingly admired the tuft of cotton blond hair poking out from the loosely swaddled receiving blanket. Heather hadn’t quite mastered the tight burrito effect the hospital nurses could achieve. “So, what did he say to that?”

“Well…” Heather looked up in thought. It had only been three days since Haddy Sylvia had been born. The memory of the pain and anguish already faded, along with some of the details of the first six hours afterward. Exhaustion weighed heavy in Heather’s limbs and mind from laboring twenty-seven hours and little sleep since.

However, her baby revealing the Rivers’ family legacy that lay dormant no longer was still pretty sharp in her mind. With her husband, Brady, being a shapeshifter, and a supposed dormant shapeshifting gene in Heather’s DNA, Haddy probably had little chance not inheriting some element of the phenomenon.

“He was very confused, of course. In his family, only the males inherited the legacy. He really thought it was all over when the nurse announced ‘it’s a girl!’” Heather looked down at the sweet child vigorously nursing. She placed her finger next to her daughter’s mouth and broke the suction, so she could put her over her shoulder and give her a good burp. Then she’d resume on the other side.

“But all of a sudden her eyes flared orange and we both just stared at her. Brady turned to me with such bewilderment. I knew immediately what was happening. GiGi had told me, in private, what to look for. When he turned wide eyes to me, all I could say was, ‘Oh yeah, there’s something I forgot to mention.’”

The sisters broke into another bout of laughter. Poppy struggled to breath. “Wasn’t that what you had accused him of possibly saying before you knew he was a shapeshifter? If he hadn’t ran away when BJ— well when you miscarried?” Sadness filled in where laughter had saturated their conversation.

“Yes. I did yell that at him.” Heather shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just what came to mind and it was what I said. It was the first time he even considered that somebody other than he might have a family burden that wasn’t easy to share.”

Heather’s lip quivered with mirth. Poppy gazed into her sister’s eyes. They both busted out laughing again. Haddy burped and that sent the sisters laughing even harder. Heather moved her daughter to the other breast and continued feeding while she chatted with her sister.

“What’s all this jocularity?” Brady entered the bedroom.

“Poppy came to see her new niece, but Miss Haddy had other plans. Little piggy decided to eat the entire time her company has been here to see her.”

Brady chuckled as he cupped his daughter’s softball-size head in his palm. “She loves to eat.” He grinned mischievously. “I can’t blame her. That’s one of my favorite places on mommy, too.”

Heather swatted his head away from the baby’s head. “Brady!”

Poppy laughed and stood. “Well, I plan on spending a lot more time hanging around this precious little one. So not to worry. Aunt Poppy will see her face eventually.”

Heather and Brady laughed. Then Heather winced. “Ow! You little monster!”

Brady’s eyes went wide. The laughter waned from his face. He glanced down at his daughter. “She doesn’t have teeth already, does she?”

“Oh Brady! Get real.” Poppy swatted her brother-in-law’s arm. “Listen, I’m going to go. It’s probably better than I don’t hold her today.” Poppy sniffed. “I feel a cold coming on.” She pressed the back of her hand against her cheek. “Do I feel feverish to you?”

Closing her eyes, she lifted her chin toward Brady, inviting him to feel her forehead.

He put the underside of his wrist on her forehead and then on the side of her face. “You do feel a little warm. Drink water! Get some rest.” Brady turned back to his family. “At least somebody in this family should be getting some sleep.”

He smiled at Heather.

She lifted her eyebrows in agreement.

Poppy sighed. “Y’all are adorable.”

Poppy did feel the lethargy of a fever coming on. She hurried home. Her girls were playing in their treehouse Hank had built them in the backyard. She hollered out the back door to let them know she was home.

“Okay, mom!” Marla hollered back. “Hey, mom?”

“Yes.”

“Can Chelany spend the night? We want to sleep in our treehouse.”

Poppy considered Marla’s request. “Is she here, already?”

“Yes.”

“So, does her dad know she wants to spend the night?”

“No.”

Poppy sighed. “Girls, I’ve told you a hundred times. You can’t just spring this on me.” She walked out to the treehouse so she no longer had to yell. The neighbors didn’t need to know everything.

Marla and Mable stuck their heads out opposite windows of the little cottage. Chelany’s head popped out the curtain covering the door.

“Pleeeease!” They chimed in together.

Poppy giggled. “I-uh, alright. I’ll call Jeremy and see what he says.”

“Yay!” The girls disappeared into the wooden structure.

Poppy sniffed. She really felt lousy. Should she let Chelany spend the night if she was coming down with something? Well they wanted to camp out in the treehouse. It wasn’t as if they would be around Poppy too much. Besides, she’d make sure to put their old baby monitor in there so she’d know they were alright.

Hank was reclined in his chair, binge watching an Ice Road Warrior series. Heather stayed in the kitchen while she texted Jeremy. She filled a large glass of water and waited for his response.

Are you sure you don’t mind. He texted.

Never a problem. Chelany is a dear. Heather replied.

Okay. What time do you want me to come by tomorrow?

Heather thought about what she wanted to do tomorrow morning. After breakfast, then whenever is good for you.

So 3 tomorrow? LOL JK.

LOL How about 10

Great. See you then

She held her phone against her chest, dug out a digital thermometer from the medicine cabinet, and covered herself with a throw blanket from the couch. She reclined in her chair beside her husband. Before she took a drink of cool water, she put the digital thermometer in her mouth. Glancing at Hank, to see if he noticed her potential ailment, she waited for the soft beep.

He didn’t move, or notice.

The thermometer beeped and she lifted it to focus on the softly lite number. 99.8

Not much of a fever. Why did she feel so bad?

She swigged the water and laid her head back. Her eyelids felt so heavy. She considered the girls out back. She should go get the baby monitor and take it to them.

She sighed deeply. Maybe she’d get it in a minute. Sleep had other ideas.

The shower head poured hot water down over Poppy’s body. She lathered up a large sea-sponge and slowly rubbed it over her breast, down her belly, and between her legs, imagining it was the gentle hand of the faceless lover that existed only in her dreams. She knew his touch, but not his identity.

He was nothing like Hank. Never in a hurry, he took his time pleasing her body and bringing her to a point of ecstasy that left her dizzy and happily exhausted. He was flawless. Dark, tall, and, although she had never seen his face, she knew he was ruggedly handsome, like the men from her great grandmother’s Karuk tribe. Military build, warrior strong, and cunning, this fantasy lover was impossibly perfect.

She let her finger slip past the sponge and imagined her lover’s firm tongue teasing the spot that hardened with pleasure. She moaned. Her knees went weak and gave way, but her lover caught her in his powerful arms.

When had he stepped into the shower? Her eyes popped open. Steam filled the shower, obscuring his face. Condensation ran down the clear glass walls and beaded on Poppy’s face. Sweat gathered into one drop and teased a trail between her breast.

He drew her against his taut body. His hand covered hers and took over where she had been holding the sponge. His finger gently massaged her sweet spot.

She took hold of his persistent firmness that pressed against her thigh, matching his cadence, she gave him the same pleasure he created in her. Rhythmically he massaged her into a frothy explosion of ecstasy that radiated throughout her body like a wildfire fed by a southwest wind.

She gasped for air and leaned into his muscular form. Such an amazing, selfless lover. Her pleasure was his pleasure. His warm hard body dissolved from her mind to be replaced by the cold hard reality of the shower tiles. She leaned against their coolness, panting. Heat from her face melted the tiles like they were made of butter, she fell. Her body violently jerked—

“What the hell is this!” Hank’s voice saturated the dream world.

She jerked with a sharp inhale. Where was she? Reclining. Buried under a blanket. She scrambled backward, kicking out from under the heat. Was it an electric blanket? She was wet. Had she really been in the shower?

Perspiration saturated her clothes and her hair stuck to her face, smothering her. She swatted at the sticky, wet tendrils.

“What?” she croaked.

Hank stood over her, he was shoving something into her face. Drawing her forehead into a scowl, she tried to focus on what he held. A cell phone.

“What is it?” She swallowed. Her throat hurt. It was so dry. Didn’t she have a glass of water sitting near by. She reached for it. Hank’s hand with the cell phone slammed into her outstretched hand and knocked the glass to the floor. The glass broke. Shards of glass skidded across the floor. Water splashed. Poppy blinked away the fog that confounded her mind. “Why did you do that?”

“You whore!” Hank screamed. “You meeting your lover tomorrow morning at ten? You think I wouldn’t find out? You do this in front of our girls—?”

“Hank!” Poppy shook her head and tried again to swallow. The fever had broken while she slept. That was why she was drenched in sweat. The shower… was a fever induced dream. Sense slowly returned to her mind. She looked at the cell phone in his hand. It was hers. “Jeremy Black is coming by tomorrow morning to pick up Chelany. His daughter. She’s spending the night with our girls… why are you going through my text messages?”

“If you weren’t such a whore, I wouldn’t have to.”

Anger filled Poppy’s insides like a cactus suddenly growing in her belly. Bumps rose across her arms and legs. They felt like a thousand pinpricks. She took a deep breath. Yelling at him never calmed him down when he was like this. She glanced at his side of the recliners. Three beer bottles sat empty. He couldn’t be drunk, but obviously feeling the buzz.

Poppy rose from the recliner. “I need to get the baby monitor. I promised the girls they could sleep in the treehouse.” She walked away but turned back. “May I have my cell phone?”

He smiled an evil Cheshire Cat grin. She loathed him when he was like this.

“No. I think I’ll keep it and see what else your lover boy has to say when he thinks it’s you on the receiving end of the text messages.”

Poppy sighed. “Suit yourself. I have nothing to hide.”

She walked down the hall. Slipping into the bathroom, she wiped her face with a hand towel, combed through her wet hair and changed into pajamas and a robe. She went to the girl’s room, found the baby monitor in Marla’s toy box, and checked the batteries. They weren’t corroded, but she didn’t want it to stop working in the middle of the night. She carried the monitor to the kitchen and dug out two nine-volt batteries, replacing both monitors. She turned them on and verified they worked, then walked out to the girls.

Silence emanated from the little cottage. Were they asleep, already? She slipped the monitor just inside the door, past the curtain, and pushed it further in. Carrying the receiver unit with her, she walked back into the house. Heavy breathing transmitted through the monitor. She smiled.

Hank met her at the back door, shoving her phone into her chest. “Here. You’re lover-boy texted you!”

“What are you talking about?” Poppy fumbled with the phone that had been released and rubbed her breastbone. Hank’s roughness had hurt. She glanced at the screen. Hank had texted Jeremy.

I can’t w8 2 C U

Jeremy had texted a reply, LOL g’nite Poppy

Heather gasped. How could he do something so… stupid? She glanced at the digital time centered at the top of the screen. It was eleven-thirty. Poor Jeremy was probably sound asleep. Should she text again and let him know—?

No. She would just explain tomorrow. Besides, he probably figured it out by the stupid text short-cuts that she never used. He had already witnessed Hank’s temper when Mable had been found at the Phantom Canyon camp out. It was no secret her husband was the jealous type.

She cringed at the memory of the Daffodil Troop parents witnessing Hank’s accusations when all that was important was finding little Mable. Brady and Heather had re-united that day. Now they were living the dream every woman hopes for. Happy Ever After with the man destiny set forth as your completeness. She had never felt that completeness with Hank. Their marriage was the right thing to do because she found out she was pregnant after the equivalent of a one-night-stand.

She had no idea Hank was such an unkind man. He had fooled her into thinking he was a gentleman. He insisted they get married when she respectfully informed him she was pregnant. She had expected nothing from him at the time. Her family was a close-knit group of women. Even her great grandmother was still alive and healthy. They would help her raise the baby.

But Hank made a big production out of exclaiming no child of his would be born a bastard. Him calling her tiny baby a bastard set her teeth on edge, but at the time she took it as a gallant effort to do what was right. As old-fashioned as that sounded, it seemed sweet at the time. So, she agreed. They stood before a judge three days later. Her sister, Heather, their mother, and Grandma stood with her while Hank showed up late, with a plethora of excuses. If only she’d read all the signs and walked away.

But then she wouldn’t have her precious Mable. Perhaps being married to Hank, at least having two daughters by him, wasn’t such a bad turn in her life. If he would only stop drinking. He was unpleasant when he was sober, but unbearable when he drank. A shiver ran her spine. Maybe she and the girls would be better off without him. A divorce might make things easier for everybody.

A car door slammed outside. Poppy jerked. Hank spun from her. “Who’s that? Your lover boy come over early? He couldn’t wait until ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Hank, please stop.” Poppy shook her head. “Jeremy Black is not my lover. He’s a single dad with a lovely daughter who is best friends with our girls. That’s all.”

“Oh, yeah! Then who’s about to knock on our door, huh?”

“It’s nearly midnight! Nobody is going to knock on our door.” It took everything she had in her to keep her tone calm.

A soft tap came to the aluminum frame of the storm door. Poppy closed her eyes and sighed. Hank charged her. His fist slammed into her jaw. She fell backward, but he grabbed her hair, redirecting her body like a weighted whip. She fought his grip as her hip hit the floor hard. He dragged her by the hair to the door. “Oh, yeah! Poppy? So who is that?”

He yanked her head, causing a muted pop in her vertebrae. Pain shot through her neck. She whimpered. “Hank. Stop!”

Then a burning sensation in her stomach flared and seemed to shoot out into every blood vessel in her body. Fire filled her arms and legs. Her face flashed white hot. She gritted her teeth. Bones snapped and popped. Twisting her head, she wrenched her hair out of Hank’s hand, turned over on all fours, and glared at her husband.

Hank’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open. Slowly, she stood, towering over him.

Poppy opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but her vision filled with a transparent red wash, then went solid black.

Chapter Two

Jeremy Black’s unease didn’t settle down after Poppy Fields texted to ask if Chelany could spend the night with her girls. He knew there would come a day when he had to begin letting go. She was five years old now. Still a baby in his eyes, and certainly not in control of her gifting to be allowed too much time without him nearby. He knew how to keep her calm. How to keep her gifting calm. She would learn how to control it too, but at her age, she acted and reacted just a notch or two above her basic mammalian brain.

Not that he didn’t trust Poppy to provide a safe and calm environment for his Chelany. It was her husband he didn’t trust. The man was volatile. And a volatile environment could set Chelany off. Jeremy paced the floor. Why had he agreed to let his daughter spend the night? She wasn’t old enough.

Poppy had said the girls wanted to camp out in the treehouse in their backyard. That would be an experience Chelany couldn’t get here in their apartment. It would be fun. Fun for her and good for her too. He tried to reassure himself the experience was a good one for Chelany.

He slapped together a bologna sandwich and sat down to watch tv while he ate. Poppy had said “Chelany is a dear.”

Poppy was a wonderful woman. She was a sweet lady. His heart raced just thinking about her. He’d met her when he put Chelany in a half-day toddler head-start program. He had lingered, watching the room full of toddlers play behind a two-way mirror.

He couldn’t pull himself away, just in case Chelany lost control. He wanted to be near, to swoop in and whisk her out before anyone was the wiser. But Poppy had the same misgivings and lingered at the hazy mirror.

They smiled at one another and laughed at themselves being so scared to leave their children alone. Could he always be that Jeremy-on-the-spot-dad who protected his daughter from exposing her gift in front of mere mortals.

Their life was normal… to him and his ancestors. It had skipped his generation. Neither he nor his brothers had the gift. Papa, Great-grandpapa, and on back through the ages, skipping through every other one, his family, male and female, had been shapeshifters.

He and Poppy had become friends that day. He’d bring coffee-house brew and she’d bring homemade muffins or cookies. They talked easily about all sorts of subjects, except the obvious one. And then Hank showed up one day, being the ass that he was. Jeremy immediately stopped bringing Poppy coffee. He respected her marriage, even if Hank deserved little respect.

Still, his feelings had grown for her, blossoming into a full-scale desire in his heart. He found another place to watch Chelany’s class and avoided being alone with Poppy when possible.

So different were these feeling for Poppy. He loved his wife, but their marriage had been a neutral agreement between friends. His feelings for her were neutral as well. Her Canadian citizenship inhibited her ability to continue to work as a publisher in Colorado and she really wanted to stay. So, he agreed to marry her. She became pregnant with Chelany the next year and died giving birth thirty-six weeks later. He grieved for her, but it was grief for a friend, grief for Chelany’s loss of her mother, not grief for the love of his life.

Never had he felt so strongly for a woman, as he did for Poppy. It was ridiculous. She was married and untouchable. If only his heart would listen to reason. His feelings would remain his secret. Buried deep in his heart. As long as She and Hank were married, Jeremy would treasure his amore in private. No other woman he knew could hold a candle to Poppy. After three years of private pining, he had to admit, if only to himself— she was his only desire.

Every time he closed his eyes to sleep, she came to him. It was as if their souls traversed the ethereal spaces to be together as lovers. Deep in his heart, he knew her intimately because of their nocturnal spirit-walks. Perhaps Hank Fields sensed the bond that existed only in a fantasy realm. He harshly accused Poppy of having an affair with Jeremy every opportunity he got.

Poor Poppy. Her husband had no idea how spot on he truly was in a spiritual sense. It was all the more reason why Jeremy went out of his way to steer clear of any possibility beyond school activities with the girls, so that Hank couldn’t ever have any concrete evidence to substantiate his claims.

Even Poppy’s girls were drawn to his daughter. They loved each other. They were besties. He chuckled at their tiny voices declaring their eternal sisterhood for one another. If it was this bad now, what would they be like when they became teens.

He rolled his eyes. A single dad, raising a teen girl would be challenging enough. But his would be even more of a challenge. Teen shapeshifters were hormonal nightmares. He just prayed his daughter would be an exception and be an obedient, well behaved child.

He laughed at his thoughts. Wishful thinking!

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Reassuring himself that Chelany would be alright spending the night with Marla and Mable. Exhaustion swept over his mind, sending him sailing to the world he loved so much.

He stood next to a bathtub. The shower curtain was pulled closed and steam filled the small room. She was on the other side of that curtain. He eased out of his clothes and slowly stepped in with her. Her body glistened with bubbles and hot water. His body ached to draw her near.

He took the large sea-sponge from her hand and squeezed the soapy water over her body. It flowed down her beautiful curves like silk. He cupped her breast and placed his other hand on her back, to support her, while he bent to take her pink bud into his mouth. The water poured around his mouth. He blinked against the spray. She arched her back and moaned. He loved giving her such pleasure.

His tongue teased and danced around the firmness of her nipple. He kissed it as he moved to the other. He drew it into his mouth and tantalized it with his tongue until it was hard like a marble. Leaning back, he looked at her beautiful face. Her long neck, her hair flowing behind her back with the flowing water. He kissed a trail up to her throat. Then took her ear lobe in between his mouth, gently gliding his teeth over the lobe. He whispered, “I love you.”

She stiffened, raised her head, and looked deeply into his eyes. His words surprised her. He’d never confessed out loud. But then, she leaned in and their mouths caressed in a passionate kiss. He pressed his tongue against her lips, and she gave him access. Their tongues darted against each other, vying for dominance. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he encircled her bottom, pulling her closer against his desire. Passion exploded between them and he gently guided her to turn around. He held her round silky hips, pulling her to him as their bodies met in a rhythm that only lovers can achieve.

She groaned with each movement, escalating higher and higher until she reached that climatic threshold of ecstasy. Her body throbbed as the intensity ebbed from her body. He held her as her knees buckled, and tenderly turned her back to him. Holding her in his arms, they stood in the shower’s waterfall, entangled in each other’s arms until exhaustion replaced the fading fervor. He kissed her neck. She cooed softly. He kissed her again. Gently, softly.

His phone chimed. Jeremy leapt, bringing his recliner to full-upright. Something was wrong! He looked at his illuminated cell phone. A text. He lifted the phone blinking away his muddled mind to understand what his eyes saw.

I can’t w8 2 C U

It said it was Poppy. But it wasn’t. She never texted with the cryptic letters and numbers for words. He looked at his watch. And never at eleven-thirty at night. Should he respond and let Hank know he knew?

No. Don’t rile the man, especially while Chelany was spending the night with the girls. This could very well be the last time though. This anxious feeling was too much. She was too young to go on sleepovers. And he couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. He decided how to respond to Hank’s text.

LOL g’nite Poppy

He stared at the text before hitting send. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t feel like it was Chelany, exactly… but something…

Jeremy leapt to his feet. He couldn’t ignore this feeling. Chelany might not be in danger of exposing her gift, but he wouldn’t sit here waiting for a phone call telling him something else happened. He grabbed a hoodie, snagged his keys from the hook by the door, and left his apartment. He wasn’t sure if he’d just drive by to see if everything was alright, or if he’d actually knock on the door. Well, only if it looked like they were awake.

… or the house was on fire.

Chapter Three

He ran to his car and tore out of the parking lot. The Fields’s house was only about five minutes away, especially at midnight with very little other traffic.

The closer he got to the house, the more his bones ached. The gift may have skipped his generation, but the instinct was alive and well in his nervous system. It was a nuisance most of the time, but right now, he accepted the sibylline knowledge. It allowed him to monitor his daughter’s safety without being at her side.

He turned onto the street. Four houses down—

Hank tumbled out the front door, rolling off the porch, and sprawling in the grass. Jeremy slammed on his brakes, and leapt out of his car. A large, silky haired creatures, like a mongrel Afghan Hound, stood on its hind legs as it traipsed toward Hank’s crumpled body. Chelany? No this was an adult.

Jeremy stood in the yard, braced in a wide stance, in case the creature attacked him. But she didn’t seem to notice he was there.

Poppy? The legacy’s instincts revealed who this creature truly was. Jeremy had no idea Poppy had the gift—

She leapt on top of Hank. He screamed a blood curling cry and rolled up in a ball as best he could, covering his head. The creature’s long silky hair swayed like curtains as she slashed razor sharp claws across Hank’s shoulder, flipping his body over on his back. The creature slashed right and left, shredding Hank’s chest into ribbons.

Blood splattered up and out. It’s coppery-metallic aroma filled Jeremy’s nostrils. It saturated the ground, her claws, and even splashed her silvery-white hair with each swipe. Hank’s entrails burst out from his abdomen. His body moved only because of the force in which the creature swiped at him. The creature’s rage gave Jeremy pause. He’d seen a lot in his lifetime, but this was gruesome.

Soon, the creature realized its prey was dead. She sniffed Hank’s bloody body, then stood back. She twisted her head and bent her neck, as if to relieve tension. Bones snapped with a dull pop, as the long silky hair retreated into her skin leaving only that which was on her head, and her body morphed to her human form. Poppy stood over Hank’s mangled form, but her eyes showed no coherent awareness. She staggered back. Looking out at nothing, as if in a trance.

Jeremy remained very still, observing, waiting. He would move when he knew it was safe. Although it was very apparent Poppy did not sense his presence. She turned and staggered to her door. Bracing one bloody hand on the frame, she pulled the storm door open and went inside. Jeremy lunged forward, sidestepping Hank, he leapt on the porch and looked through the glass door. Poppy sat down in a recliner and leaned back. Had she gone to sleep?

This had to be her first shift. He didn’t know exactly how he knew, but from her trance-like state and… he didn’t know. He just knew. No wonder he’d never sensed the gift in her scent. Hank must have finally crossed that line and drove the gift out of dormancy.

Jeremy had heard tales about latent appearance of the shapeshifting gift. He’d never witnessed it before. How apropos the woman he had admired and loved from afar would be gifted with the very legacy he envied in his own family line. His love for her swelled into so much more than it had been. He allowed himself a brief smile. Then his eyes focused on the situation.

That was a preview of His Only Desire. To read the rest purchase the book.

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