Chapter 1

“Are you sure you want it that short?” Eloise asks her niece looking at her in the mirror.

“I’m very sure, Auntie; I’m fourteen today and you promised me a haircut. I chose this one.” Celine turns around in the old but sturdy wooden chair. It wobbles gently on the slightly uneven flagstones that cover the floor in this small stone-built cottage’s kitchen. Celine currently has wavy dark-blonde hair down to the middle of her back, and while she has loved having long hair, it was time for a change.

She bats her eyelashes, and her large grey eyes look pleadingly at her aunt. She was now five-three, and her father says she will likely grow another few inches before she stops growing. She had a small straight nose, and bow shaped lips that were naturally a dark-pink colour. The small cottage is a second home to Celine, her aunt Eloise and uncle Michel had helped to raise her after her mother had died and her father, Anton, had needed some time to grieve his loss.

Celine reaches for the electronic tablet with the picture she had chosen to show her aunt how she’d like her hair cut. The picture is of a choppy pixie cut. “And when it’s cut, can we dye it?” Celine gave her aunt the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster. Her aunt chuckles,

“Yes, we are dying it, Celine. The box you chose is in the bathroom ready for us when we’re done here. But I’m not cutting your hair upstairs, that bathroom is too small for that.” Celine grins and Eloise laughs good-naturedly. “I did promise after all, now face forward and sit still before I cut your ears.” Celine quickly obeys.

Eloise was five-ten and a tall, thin woman, greying at the temples of her long hair that she wore in a braid most days. She was a lot older than her niece, at ninety-five years old, but she still looked to be around forty. Eloise was her father’s sister and while they got on most of the time, Eloise would often give Anton a hard time about Celine and the distance he kept from her.

One night, when she was very small, she peeked out of the window of the small cottage and saw them talking.

“Anton, she needs her father.” Eloise mutters, trying not to let Celine hear. All too often the adults would try and talk away from her, but she’d still listen in when she could. Her father sighs.

“I know Eloise, but she looks so much like her. Nicolette is gone, and I have Celine, whom I love with all of my heart and soul. Some days I can barely breathe because of how much they are alike.” He sags onto the low wall surrounding the porch of Eloise and Michel’s home. “There are days I can’t bear to be apart from her, and others I’d run for the hills if I could.” Eloise sighs,

“Michel and I know this, and we are happy for her to stay here with us, you know that. But she still needs you.” She studies him as he refuses to look at her, “Enough, come and eat with us, then return to the château if that is what you wish. It’s her birthday, you can’t just not be here tonight.”

She turns and leaves him on the porch, heading back into the warmth of the kitchen. Celine drops from the window and runs to her aunt, grinning. Eloise picks her up, resting her on her hip. Celine had a pretty cardboard hat with a number five on. She takes her to the lounge where her uncle is putting on the record player. The soft crackling from the gramophone playing ‘À bicyclette’ by Bourvil. He holds out his hands to her,

“Come on, Celine. Dance with your uncle.” She nods and wriggles out of her aunt’s grip to go to him; he gets her feet balanced on his and starts swaying around in circles with her. She grins and giggles up at him, hoping her father would be here this time. He’d missed so many events this year. She hears his footsteps in the kitchen and drops her uncle’s hands to run for him, she wraps her pudgy arms around his legs, apparently startling him,

“Papa, you came!” Celine beams up at him, he smirks down at her and nods,

“Yes, my darling girl. I wouldn’t have missed this.” It takes a few minutes for his smile to reach his eyes.

While wolf-shifters might live much longer than humans, they don’t live forever. Celine’s entire family were wolf-shifters. Her family had ties to other local packs and there was a local coven of witches that served many of the local communities and packs. There was even a lone vampire, Archibald or Archie, who was so old no one truly knew his age, but his never aging meant that he still looked about thirty.

Because they were a family, rather than a pack, there wasn’t an Alpha as such. Her father ran the business and was the head of the family, but there was no one living on the family lands that wasn’t related, either by blood or marriage. Her father had never felt the need for a typical hierarchy. They weren’t trying to expand their territory or recruit others.

But around harvest time some local packs would send their youths or spare people to come and camp on our land to help bring in the grapes. Anyone over the age of eighteen got a bottle of wine for their trouble, anyone under got a bottle of grape juice. The ‘Travere vineyard’ was well known across France as good but small, only producing about four hundred and fifty cases, around five thousand four hundred bottles, a year depending on the weather.

The property was just under an acre of vineyard but there was more to the property. A large château housed most of the immediate family along with the offices of the business and rooms that could be hired for events. The winery itself was in a large set of barns not far from the château. There were a few stone-built cottages dotted around the property, one of which Eloise and Michel had chosen to be their home.

Michel was a man known for hard work, his fingers calloused from years of farming and large ropey muscles surrounded his tall frame. He stood at six-six and towered over most of the men in the family, his jet-black hair which he kept long and often tied in a ponytail to keep it out of his face. Deeply tanned skin and dark chocolate eyes accompanied a thin mouth and aquiline nose to make him, if not traditionally handsome, at least appealing.

Michel had been one of the many wolf-shifters who had gone to war when the Germans came. He met Eloise after he’d been injured once, she had been his nurse. When they met, they knew they were fated mates and he brought her back to the vineyard with him after the war. He had a tough time afterwards, often waking with nightmares and had once sleepwalked around the château shouting, waking Anton and causing some distress.

Michel decided that he and Eloise would live away from the main house and everyone who lived there, to allow him some peace of mind and prevent any more midnight scares. Now, years later, he had mostly healed his body, heart and mind. But they both still preferred the quiet of being away from the main house.

A few hours after first sitting in the kitchen for her haircut, Celine emerges onto the patio where her uncle is barbequing steaks on the grill with the help of her father and one of her older cousins, Mathieu. The courtyard had been decorated with a lot of old floral-patterned fabric bunting that Eloise had spent a week making in the evenings after Celine had gone to bed. It was April the twenty-fifth and the weather was balmy, clear and warm.

Her new pale-yellow floral summer dress highlights her new very short, bright blue hair, gone were the long dark-golden tresses she had started her day with. The family crowds around, and hugs and compliments fill the air. But there was only one person she wanted to hear from. She walks over to her father, who has his hands over his mouth.

He was a broad-shouldered muscular man, used to the physical labour of the vineyard, with dark brown almost black hair kept short, and bright blue eyes that are watering gently as he looks down at her. She smiles at him, and takes his hand carefully and he grips hers in return.

“Papa? Does this help me look less like her?” Celine whispers, daring to hope that his answer would be ‘yes’. He studies her closely, taking her shoulders and turning her around so he can see the whole new look. The crowd of family surrounding the pair goes quiet, only the birds and barbeques can be heard now.

Eventually, he lets go of her shoulders as tears stream down his face. Celine begins to panic that she had made the wrong decision. She takes her hand back and touches her hair,

“I can wash out the colour and grow it out. I’m sorry papa.” She lowers her eyes and begins to turn and walk away, but then to her surprise he grabs her into a tight hug, she relaxes and hugs him back. He sighs,

“No, I’m sorry, Celine. I took too long to answer you; you are beautiful no matter what. It was just a big surprise. I love it!” He releases her and kisses her forehead. He then whispers in her ear “I know I have made life hard for you because of how much you look like your mother. And I am sorry if I ever made you feel like you had to change anything about yourself to make me feel better. But if this is what you want then I am happy.” She nods,

“I chose this. And if it makes it a bit easier for you, then it’s a happy coincidence.” Celine beams up at her father, knowing full well that she had made this change with him in mind, but it was still her choice and she was very happy with her decision. “No regrets here, I promise.”