The forest was silent except for the low whistle of the wind through the trees. Giselle stood among the snowdrifts, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders, her breath rising in pale clouds. The air was sharp, clean, and heavy with cold. Somewhere in the distance, the air had changed. She turned, her senses sharpening, and that was when she saw him.
A shadow moved between the trees, fluid and deliberate. Then, through the veil of falling snow, she saw the unmistakable glint of blue eyes.
He stepped out from between the trees, his black fur rippling in the cold breeze. He was enormous—larger than she remembered, the sheer size of his wolf form enough to take her breath away. But there was nothing threatening in his movements. He watched her closely, head tilted slightly, his gaze tracing her as though memorizing every inch of her.
