Holiday Hunting: Shifter Seeker, #1

By Heather McCorkle

Sleighbells are ringing and the snow is falling in Hemlock Hollow, Montana. But instead of enjoying the holiday season Sonya Michaelson is off saving newly bitten werewolves from losing their minds during their first change.

 

That is until she has to prepare the house for the visit of the werewolf parents of her hot professor boyfriend. Between that and holiday shopping with her best friend, the reaper of shifterkind, she will have her hands full.  

 

Can she pull off the perfect, Jólabókaflóðið, the Icelandic tradition of gifting books, for her boyfriend and his Icelandic parents, or will all her careful plans unravel? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Compass Press
• Release date: Nov 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781939469120

Book preview

1

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A nearly full moon held court in an indigo sky dotted with more stars than I could count in a lifetime. It pulled at me, that moon, drove me to trot faster through the frosty forest. My big paws helped me stay atop the six feet of snow that transformed the mountains of northern Montana into both something utterly beautiful, and deadly. Despite the fact the third week of December loomed just around the corner, I had no choice but to be out here.

More pulled at me than the moon this night.

The frantic pulse of a troubled newly bitten werewolf called to my power. They hadn’t shifted yet, I could feel it. That was good. But, if I didn’t get to them before the moon was full, their wolf side could take over and drive their human side insane, turning them into a mindless killer. As if things weren’t bad enough with the snow and the waning night, their energy began pulling away from me. Soon it tingled at the edges of my reach—which I’d come to know was about a mile.

Head straight out, ears tucked against my skull, I ran with everything I had. Though I was much faster than when I’d been human, it was a sad comparison to most werewolves. Running had never really been my thing aside from a bit of jogging while I’d been in college. At least a nice crusty layer topped the snow, keeping my paws from breaking through and causing me to sink up to my belly. A second blessing of the snow was how it buried most of the underbrush that would have slowed me down even more.

Despite my efforts, in less than a hundred yards, the energy of the troubled disappeared. I cursed but it came out as a growl. Whispering a silent prayer to all the Norse Gods and a few of the Cherokee ones, I kept running. If I lost them now, I might never find them again. Moments later I felt the energy of the troubled one just ahead. Soon I caught a glimpse of a figure stumbling through the trees. Relief coursed through me. They tripped over something and fell face first into the snow.

The desire and intent to become human again set my atoms to vibrating and in moments I shifted, flowing from my wolf form as easy as pouring a beer into a glass. And that was where the graceful part ended because the moment I was human again, my feet plunged through the crusty layer of snow and I sank up to my knees. Being a werewolf meant cold didn’t bother me much, but being naked and encased in snow still wasn’t any fun.

Ignoring my misery as best I could, I trudged at top speed through the white stuff toward the figure. They weren’t getting up. The sound of their ragged breathing made me feel a little better, but the sobbing did not.

Hey, it’s all right, I’m here to help you, I said.

They pushed themselves up out of the snow. It was a guy, somewhere in his early twenties. A short mess of dark hair clung in wet strands around a haggard face that might be handsome beneath all the dirt.

With practiced body positioning, I hid most of my nakedness with my long, black hair. To his credit, they guy didn’t ogle me one bit. Though in a way that worried me. It might indicate how far down the rabbit hole of crazy he had slipped. But then, maybe I just wasn’t his drink of choice. I clung to that, hoping it was the case.

Right, sure, by putting me out of my misery, he said with a sniffle.

Ugh. Why does everyone think that? I need a publicist or something, I muttered to myself as I walked closer. Louder, I said, No. Whatever you’ve heard isn’t true. I am here to help you make peace with your wolf side. I left out ‘so when you shift for the first time you don’t go crazy’ because I thought that might tip him over the edge.

I change my mind. I don’t want to be a werewolf, he said through a sob.

My heart broke for him, but... You did want to be, though? You consented to being bitten in? 

The guy’s gaze zeroed in on me and he flinched as if I’d yelled. I remembered all too well how shocking the heightened senses were while going through the verða—becoming. Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be like this, he said.

The overwhelming instincts, everything being heightened, I get it. It’s a lot, I said in a soothing tone.

I don’t think I’ll be able to control it, he said. Sitting in the snow, dressed only in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, he looked so fragile, so close to being broken that it pulled at the deep need in me to help.

I thought the same thing at first too, I admitted.

At that he looked up from his lap and met my gaze. You? The seeker chosen by the Gods, didn’t think you could control your wolf? He snorted. Yeah right.

It’s true. I knew nothing about this life or werewolves before I was bitten.

He perked up a tiny bit at that. Really?

Really. I’m Sonya. What’s your name?

Dax. After a moment, he let out a long sigh. This was not how I envisioned spending my holiday.

Eh, it’s pretty much how I imagined mine. Seeking wasn’t exactly a profession that allowed for time off. The fallout of megalomaniacs biting in random people to wake up the power in myself and my counterpart—the reaper—meant a lot of people like Dax needed my help.  

Scooting away a little, Dax looked up again. Are you really the chosen of Odin? he asked in a small voice.

A lot of people think I’m chosen by Frigg and the reaper is chosen by Odin, but I don’t know about all that, I said.

So they’re real, Dax whispered.

I gave a one shoulder shrug. It seems that way. I haven’t met them, but I have met a valkyrie.

Sitting up straighter, he looked at me like I’d grown another head. No way.

Way.

In a sort of wave-like motion dogs were so good at, he shook his entire body, starting with his head. Eyes narrowing beneath his dark brows, he finally looked at me as though he saw me. You aren’t cold? As he said it, I realized he was shivering a bit.

Not really, just slightly uncomfortable. One of the perks of being a full werewolf is a higher body temperature after your first shift.

His brows grew closer together. But your standing naked in the snow.

I shrugged.

Not even your feet are cold? he asked.

Nope.

The wrinkles between his brows eased. That’s kind of cool.

It is. There are a lot of perks—heightened strength, speed, hearing, smell, longer lifespan... I let my voice trail off, indicating the list was endless.

The guy shook his head. I know, I know. But... As he mimicked