A Wolf for Valentine's Day by Bridget Essex

Author:Bridget Essex [Essex, Bridget]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rose and Star Press, First Edition
Published: 2015-03-03T08:00:00+00:00

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When I wake up, I shiver, pulling the blankets up to my shoulders as I sit up, the bed creaking gently beneath me as I sit back on one hand, blinking the sleep from my eyes. Outside, the dark storm clouds have cleared, and the moon overhead is making the snow glitter like a landscape sprinkled with diamonds. The pine trees ascend toward the sky like thin sentinels, the mounds of snow glittering at their feet. And it's so beautiful, out of doors, that—for a brief moment—it takes my breath away.

I shiver again as a soft, cold breeze brushes over the bare skin of my shoulders. For a moment, I'm confused where the chill could be coming from, but then I get my bearings and take in the corner of the room. All of the walls are glass, and—in the corner—there seems to be a doorway of glass to the outside.

That door is open.

I stare at the soft drift of snow that's scuttled into the room, and I realize I must be dreaming. I don't know why—maybe it's the quality of light overhead, the moonlight dazzling on the snow outside. But this feels very dream-like. I pat the bed beside me, and I'm disappointed when my hand touches nothing but cool blanket, sheet and mattress.

Kennedy is gone.

I get up, wrapping the blanket around myself, putting on my boots and nothing else. I wrap the blanket tightly about myself, and I move toward the open doorway. I step down into the snow on the first step, delighting in the sound of the crunch it makes beneath my boot. God, I missed that sound. You never hear that sound in Florida, that delicious crunch that marks the beginning of adventures in the mountains, adventures in the great outdoors with the glittering cold and jaw-dropping beauty that will take your breath away.

Everything here is so misty and quiet. I love dreams like this, beautiful dreams that are full of wonder and quiet peace. I don't have too many of them anymore...

The great thing about dreams? I don't remember any of my regrets in them. They're perfectly regret-free.

I take a deep breath then shiver, staring down at my feet standing in the snow. Odd. It feels very real. Very cold. I wiggle my toes inside my boots.

I look down at the snow drifting in through the open doorway, down the two steps outside of the door, and into the yard that sprawls in front of the tall pines, the yard filled with glittering, sparkling folds of snow.

But the perfect snow is broken by jagged tracks descending from the steps down into the yard. I gaze down at the footprints, drawing the blanket even closer, and then...

I stare.

Because the normal, human footprints change. Five feet from the door, the human footprints become...

Well.

Honestly? They look like the prints of a wolf.

I stare at them, my breath coming faster, my breath coming out into the air before me like smoke.

I crouch down on the doorstep, wincing as the cold breeze smarts against the skin of my legs.

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