Twisted
“Pure and simple, she turned tail and dodged through the house and out the back door. The smell of huckleberries hit her first, the glide of a waning sun next. She cleared a rough stone fence with one hurdle, running into the cool forest.
Thank goodness the guest mansion was near the trees.
Even in human form, Maggie’s wolf genes allowed her to see the world flashing by vividly. Bright colors, muted tones, life.
Her toe caught on a rock, and she barely kept from falling.
Windmilling her arms, she regained her balance. She ran until her breath panted, her knees ached, and her mind cleared.
Mate?
No way. The idea alternatively intrigued and terrified her.
Mated to Terrent Vilks?
No. Not possible. She knew her body, and there was no marking on her skin. No bite marks to show she had a mate . . .
that she belonged to somebody.
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