Free Howling Mad: A paranormal wolf shifter romance (Badlands Book 2) by Rebekah Blue

measured. Naomi realized she was trembling against Byron’s big, warm body as they listened.
    Pad. Pad. Pad. Relentless and unhurried.
    He urged her on through the crazy chasing reflections, and she thanked heaven for his familiarity with the maze. The silvery walls threw back reflections of them both that were stretched and twisted, and phantom movements flickered in her peripheral vision, making her start and turn as Byron hurried her through the hall of mirrors.
    And then they were chasing not just through their own reflections, but alongside hundreds of images of their pursuer. A tall, dark-dressed figure moved smoothly through the mirrored halls, his scattered reflections making him seem to approach from every direction at once.
    They accelerated. Byron caught Naomi around the waist and almost lifted her off her feet as they burst out into a gaily-painted circular room. Hissing air jets shot confetti and twinkling tinsel into the air. Naomi stumbled to a halt on the opposite side of the room and turned as she realized Byron had stopped and was facing down their pursuer, a low growl rumbling from his chest.
    As the man dressed in black stepped forward, a broad disc in the center of the floor began to rotate, spinning the two men. Byron leaped.
    The sniper’s gun went clattering and bouncing across the floor, landing at the edge of the disc, which began to pick up speed as it turned until it was whipping around. Byron was tumbled over by its momentum, but he curved his spine and rolled and kicked up and out with both feet. The blow knocked the sniper off his feet, and the lurching rotation of the disc threw him against the wall with a rib-cracking impact.
    The sniper landed on the floor with a pained grunt and started to crawl towards Byron. His canines had lengthened and he moved with the deadly stalk of a big cat. Byron threw back his head in a howl of challenge. His eyes went wolf. The seams of his sleeves ripped as his muscles bunched and swelled.
    A stealthy footfall behind her.
    Naomi shrieked as a snarling monstrosity pulled her back into a darkened alcove.
    Byron’s head whipped around at the sound.
    The sniper scrambled for his gun.
    Naomi struggled against the creature’s grasp, but it was too strong. Its arms were roped with wiry muscle, wrapped firmly around her waist. She beat at them with her fists and gouged at them with her nails, but it had no effect. She could feel its hot, damp breath on her neck.
    Like the panicked cat she was, she squirmed and hissed, then lashed out with fingers now tipped with needle claws. The thing released her and she fell to the floor, spider-scrabbling backwards away from it. It was a wolf man – not a shifter in either form, but something in between, warped and grotesque.
    She heard the crack of a shot and something silvery struck the creature in the throat…but it simply plucked it out like a bee-sting and turned it over in its fingers. It gave itself a wet-dog shake.
    Then it said, “Ow.” Not what she would have expected from a horror-movie monster. She hesitated.
    “Naomi! It’s okay!” Byron had the sniper in a headlock. The recently discharged gun lay just out of reach. “That’s Gus!” Byron panted. “He’s on our side! Are you going to stay still, you son of a bitch?” That last was addressed to the sniper.
    “Sorry about that, Miss,” rumbled the wolf man. He looked like a special-effects project gone wrong. He extended a gentlemanly hand to help her up. It was huge and hairy, with gnarled knuckles and evil-looking claws. She gaped for a moment, then allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.
    “Er…sorry about…” She gestured to the deep, bloody furrows on his arms.
    Gus shrugged. “I’ll heal.”
    The sniper didn’t seem to be fighting anymore. Byron had allowed him to sit up, and they were sitting side by side on the big central disc, which was still dreamily rotating. They were both panting and battered.
    “Gus runs the ghost train,”