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Curses slip free unhindered as I freak the fuck out. What the hell am I looking at? Is this creature Sinatra? The beast retains my cuddly wolf's black fur and ice-blue eyes but none of the sweet demeanor and playful personality.

Scuttling back on my ass and all fours like a crab, I manage to get a few feet away before the beast leaps forward at the bushes he’s been eyeing. He doesn’t break through the greenery to take chase of whatever was there. Only stopping once he reaches the very edge, growling and snarling and howling at whatever is pissing him off.

My heart beats fast and hard in my chest, causing me to freeze in fear. Again, I’m faced with the option of fight or flight, and again, my body reacts with motionlessness.

Come on, Lottie, get the fuck up before it turns around and sets its sights on you.

I don’t move fast enough, and the beast turns to face me as I reach for my guitar to use as a weapon if I must. It breaks my heart to ruin such a beautiful instrument, but my life is more valuable. I’m not completely stupid.

I scramble into a shaky standing position, brandishing my guitar like a bat.

“Stay back. I swear I will bash your head in if I have to.”

The beast doesn’t listen and slowly lurches forward on his massive back paws. But speed doesn’t matter with his size. He’s no longer snarling or aggressively exposing his teeth. Blue eyes lose their bloodthirsty glint, replaced with concern.

Concern? This beast is concerned?I must be losing my mind. Spending too much time with Sinatra, thinking this creature is concerned with my emotional state.

But his clawed hands lower into a position I would expect a human to make to a cornered animal, trying to soothe it. The menacing growl settles into a quiet growling purr—a sound far too comforting and reassuring to be coming from such a creature—and it almost lulls me to lower my makeshift weapon as the beast steps closer.

“No!” I scream swinging my guitar at the beast’s head. “Don’t come any closer.”

It growls. I growl. I swing the guitar wildly unseeing, and the growl turns into a voice.

“Stop, Lottie! It’s me. It’s Hunter.”

Immediately I stop my frantic swinging to see Hunter standing before me. Or almost Hunter. His body is disproportioned—too tall and hairy, his nails like claws, and I see his knees snap forward, forming human legs from the double-jointed legs the beast had.

“What the fuck?”

Was the beast Hunter? Was Sinatra the beast? Would that make Sinatra Hunter? I am so fucking confused right now.

“What the hell are you? Were you that thing just now?” I scream at the—yup, completely naked Hunter.

Holy fucking shit. Hunter is naked, and goddamn, is he gorgeous. Ripping muscles flex and tighten across his chest and defined abdomen, and lower his . . . wow. That is his cock. Yup. Large and stiffening cock.Fuck.

I look away from his groin, trying to refocus on the important issue at hand. A beast just shifted into Hunter, right in front of my eyes.

Hunter ignores his nudity and my staring, keeping his hands lifted and palms up as he approaches me.

“Please put down the guitar, Nightingale. I know how much you love it, and I don’t want you to ruin it,” he says in soothing deep tones.

It’s then I realize I’m still holding my guitar over my head ready to bash it into him. I lower it to my side, and Hunter reaches out to pry it from my clenching fingers.

“That’s it, just relax,” he coos.

“Relax? How can I relax after what I just saw?” My voice is high-pitched and scratchy from screaming.

“If you calm down, I can explain.”

“Explain?” I shriek. “This better be one good fucking explanation because that was completely fucked up.”

Hunter nods slowly. His expression shifts from pensively worried to a calm resolute.

“Yes, I can see how you would think that. I didn’t mean to shift in front of you, but . . . there was a threat I couldn’t ignore.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I latch on and roll with it.

“Shift? As in, you changed from Sinatra to the Beast?”