The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

if he’d let her. Screw what anyone thought about it, too.
    “You ready?”
    She turned towards him. He’d told her he’d travel in human form today to keep pace with her, and also because, even as a wolf, the snow pack would be hard to navigate.
    Nodding, she followed him out of the door, shuffling awkwardly in the snowshoes and fifty-five layers Mac had insisted on dressing her in. She felt like the Pillsbury Doughboy. When the outside cold hit her, it stole her breath for a moment. The memory of falling through the ice the day before rushed back at her.
    No crossing any lakes for her today.
    He pulled her against him, his breath showing white in the wintery air. “I was glad when you volunteered to help me look for the kid,” he murmured.
    “I did it for Casey, but being with you is a definite perk.”
    He grinned, a quick flash of teeth, and they headed out, their snowshoes leaving round, criss-cross footprints leading away from the cabin.
    Now that Mac had a bead on Casey’s psychic signature, they went straight towards him. No more educated guesses. They went as fast as they could and Lily kept up well. Her cold remained mild. Perhaps the tea had helped, or maybe it had been Mac himself. She wouldn’t mind a second helping of each, especially of Mac.
    In early afternoon, Lily noticed Mac moving faster, perhaps sensing not only Casey but the hunters. They were well on the other side of the mountain now, not far from the cave where the child had weathered the blizzard. Her legs were tired and her ankles ached from trudging through the snow, but she pushed herself harder.
    A crack sounded in the distance. Gunshot. Mac began to run as though he weren’t wearing clunky snowshoes.
    Lily tried to run too, but fell flat on her face. She pushed upwards. Someone grabbed her from behind before she could rise. She struggled hard and strong hands clamped down, hurting her even through the layers of winter clothing.
    “Stop it, wolf lover,” a deep voice growled in her ear.
    She stilled, recognizing the owner. “Derrick?” He was one of the wardens. A big burly guy who liked ... to hunt. Every fall he bragged to everyone about how many deer he’d bagged once the season opened.
    “Damn it, I knew she’d recognize us,” said a man to her left.
    “Shut the fuck up, Steve.”
    Derrick swung her up and around. He wore a blue ski mask. “You just had to get in the way, didn’t you? They were going to send the wolf alone for the boy, but you just had to fucking stick your nose in and volunteer to go too, didn’t you? Not that we don’t know why. You have a taste for fur, don’t you?”
    Was this a trap for Mac? Had they planned this all along?
    “What the hell are you doing, Derrick? Mac’s a werewolf. Do you really think you’re going to live through this?”
    God, she hoped not.
    The blood chilling sound of a shotgun being loaded made her look to Steve, also wearing a ski mask. “He may have teeth, but we got bullets. Guess which one wins?”
    Derrick yanked her forwards. She tripped on her snowshoes, but he pulled her up again before she could face-plant. “You should have stayed home, Lily. Now we have to kill you before we can hunt.”
    Oh, that was great news.
    Mac leaped into the air and changed form. The extra clothing he wore, the snow shoes, everything down to the last fibre, was used up in the strange and mysterious magic that fuelled his transformation. It would make him appear heavier, give him more fur, longer, sharper teeth.
    All the better to eat hunters with.
    Paws made contact with the snow and he sank deep, struggling to jump through it, although he was still moving faster on four paws than he’d been doing on two feet. Muscles working, he made his way towards Casey’s psychic signature, the same direction the gunshot had come from.
    Up ahead, Mac saw a flash of black fur between the trees. In his mind, he could feel Casey close by.
    The young, medium-sized wolf caught sight of him and stilled near a clearing. Man, I’m so glad to see you.
    Mac bounded up to him and sniffed. Are you all right?
    I want to go home. They keep following me. They’ve had chances to kill me, but they’re just playing . . . chasing me around.
    Bastards. They were hunting him for sport, just for kicks. We’ll get you back to Pack City and your parents as soon as we can.
    They flushed me out a couple of days ago. I was taking a run in the forest and they started chasing me. I wanted to lead them away