Enter Daliah

Beth smiled at Kitra's failed attempts to keep her fangs under control. The she-wolf had trouble with that urge as well, when certain scents drifted across her nose. Perhaps the two girls had more in common than they thought.1

Elizabeth ran her left hand through her chocolate hair. "Right now, I should let my family know you're here. They are bound to catch your scent sooner or later, and it would be better if they learned it from me." She grabbed her car keys from her desk and moved toward the door. "I wouldn't worry about their reaction though. My family is pretty tolerant. I'll be back before Chad locks it down around here. See you in a few." She slipped out the door.2

A broad grin stretched across Beth's face as she walked across the parking lot. The 1972 Chevelle SS was a thing of beauty: black with a white racing stripe, a small block 350 under the hood, all chrome, where possible. A clean, sleek, badass, haul-ass machine. Her father's most prized possession, now hers.3

She could have made it home in her wolf form, in under an hour at a fast lope. But as much as she loved the lupine form, she also loved the speed, the raw, roaring power of classic American muscle cars. With Daliah, she could make it home in thirty minutes, if she used the back roads and the local constabulary didn't get in her way.4

Beth slid into the black leather seat, turned the key, eased the clutch, felt the engine rumble to life, like some sort of big cat after a nap. The windows of the dormitory trembled under the low drawl of Daliah as Beth backed out of her parking space and pulled out of the parking lot. At the edge of town she let the machine have its head. The tires chirped, the exhaust shrieked, and with a wag of her tail, Daliah lept onto old route 3, towards the company of wolves.