Realizing it was up to me to grab the child, I fell forward into a somersault and rolled, landing in a crouch next to the infant. Relief washed over me. I reached for her, ready to grab her and run, but she had been moved, bumped aside by a growling, snarling animal.

The thing stood next to the now screaming child, almost over her. Its body was stocky like a bear but smaller, maybe forty pounds. His teeth, attached to snapping jaws, were sharp and jagged, obviously built to tear flesh from bone. A wolverine.

I knew he was the shorter son as soon as I saw him, but his expression left no doubt. He stared me down with a hatred so intense, it felt personal. Animals don't emit emotions like that, but humans do. . and sons do.

I'd wronged him, and he meant to make me pay.

A mix of a growl and snort escaped his jaws.

The knife was close, had fallen less than a foot from where I kneeled. I leaned out, willing my hand to close over the bone handle.

It pulsed against my skin. I loosened my grip, then, remembering why I needed it, tightened my hold again. The internal reminder took only a second, but when I looked up, ready to pounce, the animal was gone.

A man stood in his place. Naked, he looked more muscular than he had clothed.

A tattoo of a wolverine covered the top half of his shoulder, but I didn't spend long studying his art. My focus latched onto his hands instead, on the squirming, screeching child he held over his head.

Chapter 2

The knife in my hand, I leapt and landed on the son's back. He smelled of male and woods, musk and humus. Earthy and enticing. Except I wasn't enticed; I was enraged.

He didn't bend or move to protect himself. He stood straight and tall. I thought I had him, thought I'd won. Then the bird, whatever it was, swooped low, grabbed the bundled baby in its talons, and soared away.