 
Cover

Works by Kate Douglas

Paranormal Romances

Published with Kensington

DemonFire

HellFire

"Crystal Dreams" in _Nocturnal_

StarFire

CrystalFire

Erotic Romances

Published with Kensington

Wolf Tales

"Chanku Rising" in _Sexy Beast_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 1.5—Chanku Rising

Wolf Tales II

"Camille's Dawn" in _Wild Nights_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 2.5—Chanku Dawn

Wolf Tales III

"Chanku Fallen" in _Sexy Beast II_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 3.5—Chanku Fallen

Wolf Tales IV

"Chanku Journey" in _Sexy Beast III_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 4.5—Chanku Journey

Wolf Tales V

"Chanku Destiny" in _Sexy Beast IV_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 5.5—Chanku Destiny

Wolf Tales VI

"Chanku Wild" in _Sexy Beast V_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 6.5—Chanku Wild

Wolf Tales VII

"Chanku Honor" in _Sexy Beast VI_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 7.5—Chanku Honor

Wolf Tales VIII

"Chanku Challenge" in _Sexy Beast VII_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 8.5—Chanku Challenge

Wolf Tales 9

"Chanku Spirit" in _Sexy Beast VIII_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 9.5—Chanku Spirit

Wolf Tales 10

Wolf Tales 11

Wolf Tales 12

The Dream Catchers Series

"Dream Catcher" in _Nightshift_

Dream Bound

Dream Unchained

The Spirit Wild Series

Dark Wolf

_Dark Moon_ (TBA)

The Demon Lovers Series

Unbalanced

Unbound

Unmasked

Unleashed

Undaunted
Title Page

Copyright

Unbalanced

Kate Douglas

Copyright © 2011 by Kate Douglas

Material excerpted from Dream Unchained copyright © 2012 by Kate Douglas

Material excerpted from Dark Wolf copyright © 2013 by Kate Douglas

Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

Published by Beyond the Page at Smashwords

Beyond the Page Books

are published by

Beyond the Page Publishing

www.beyondthepagepub.com

ISBN: 978-1-937349-00-4

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Excerpt from Dream Unchained

Excerpt from Dark Wolf

About the Author
Chapter 1

"Jett! Look out!" Locan stumbled, twisted awkwardly to the right and barely avoided the slashing claws and gaping mouth. What the hell was it? Whatever this beast was that hunted him moved with demonic speed, using tusks and fangs and claws with almost mechanical precision.

Jett cursed, but the slash of his sword turned the beast back. It jerked to one side, shook its ugly head and snarled. Locan lunged forward and managed one sharp jab into the creature's side. It shrieked, spread all four arms wide and seemed to grow even larger.

Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the thing was gone. Wisps of foul-smelling steam drifted on the night air. Locan flopped down on the frozen ground beside his partner. Jett's breath escaped in uneven gasps and dark blood trickled from a deep gash across his forehead. Slowly shaking his head, Locan stared at him for a long moment before asking, "You okay?"

Sucking air, Jett nodded. "For now. What the fuck was that?"

"I dunno. Demonkind, but not. Stronger. Smarter. Definitely smarter." Locan lifted Jett's long black hair aside and dabbed at the blood with his torn sleeve. "Sucker has the sharpest teeth I've seen." He glanced into the shadows, frowning. "Where the hell's Leah?"

Jett shook his head. Stared at the spot where the creature had disappeared. "Shit. The creature must have gotten her."

Locan jerked his head up. "What? She wasn't even here. You know she wants out. She wasn't in the fight."

"She was. Showed up just after that—whatever the fuck it was—attacked. She was there. Behind it . . ." Scrambling to his feet, Jett cursed. "I'm sure the bastard got her."

"Fuck." Locan revved up his senses, reached out, waited. "Nothing. I can't feel her."

"Me, either." Jett stared at Locan. "The link's broken. If we can't feel her, how can we look for her?"

Locan shook his head. Ice encased his heart along with his nonexistent soul. "We have to find her." He cocked one eyebrow and shot a knowing look at his partner. "Before one of us ends up killing the other. If that thing realizes what she means to us, it's all over."

Jett's harsh laugh sent chills down Locan's spine. "I'm not easy to kill. It's not like you haven't tried."

Locan sent him a sharp glance. "Exactly. Which is why we need Leah whether she wants us or not." He planted one hand on the ground and pushed himself slowly to his feet. There wasn't a single part of his body that didn't ache. Whatever they'd fought was strong—more powerful than any entity they'd come up against in centuries of hunting. "Leah's powerful on her own. Maybe he didn't take her too far. We've gotta look for her."

"Fuck it. Okay." Frowning, Jett glanced away.

Locan wondered what Jett was thinking. Polar opposites, they'd fought together for centuries, fought each other even longer. Leah was the anchor, the one who forced them to focus on the enemy. The one who had the power to weave their antagonistic souls into a single, functioning unit. She was the one thing standing between him and Jett, the only one capable of keeping their eternal struggle in balance.

The pale glow from a nearby streetlight cast a blue sheen over Jett's black skin. Crimson blood flowed sluggishly from the rapidly healing slash. He shot a harsh glare of undeniable hatred in Locan's direction, and winked out of sight.

Locan snarled. Then he sighed. Already it was starting. The anger. The rivalry. The hatred the two of them couldn't control. Damn it all, they had to find Leah. Now, before he and Jett turned on each other. Before only one—or neither of them—was left standing.

* * *

Addie slurped the last of her margarita, licked the few remaining crystals of salt off the rim and set the glass back on the bar. One good thing about getting laid off. She didn't have to worry about working with a hangover.

"You okay to walk home, Addie?"

Neither did . . . what was his name? No matter. "Yeah. You?"

He shrugged. "I'll have a hell of a headache tomorrow, but no job means no reason to get up too early." He laughed. "More time for video games. M'thinks Demonikus will finally die."

"Yeah. Right." _Stupid video game freak. . . ._ Addie slipped off the tall bar stool and looped her tote bag over her shoulder. Everything personal from her office, and it all fit into a single canvas sack. She'd been about as attached to the stupid cubicle as to the ex-coworkers here at Paddy's for a last night of commiseration. "Maybe I'll see you around," she said, not meaning a word.

She threw a wave over her shoulder and headed out the door. Pausing for a moment in front of the bar, Addie got her bearings. She definitely felt the margaritas she'd had, but the night was clear and it was still fairly early. She took off at a brisk walk, crossed the street and followed the paved trail that would take her through the park and home.

She stubbed her toe on a crack in the sidewalk, stumbled, swayed precariously, then caught her balance. Maybe that last drink hadn't been such a good idea, but her ex-coworker was right—it wasn't like she had to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

The streetlight overhead flickered. An owl hooted. Addie shivered, suddenly aware of the quiet, the darkness. The unnerving sense of vulnerability. She definitely preferred this walk in daylight.

The path was well lit, but shadows reached for her. The lights on the top floor of her apartment building were visible through the trees, but they looked a hell of a lot farther away this time of night.

A sound caught Addie's attention. She paused, listening as her imagination flew into overdrive. A cry for help? Maybe a moan of pain? She shivered again and trapped a nervous giggle by slapping her hand over her mouth.

"Help me. Please . . . someone . . ."

"Crap." It wasn't her imagination. Shoving the straps from her tote higher on her shoulder, Addie stepped off the main trail and away from the overhead lights, drawn by the soft cry for help.

Glancing around, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Using the light from the screen, she searched for the source of the cries while every Grade B horror movie she'd ever watched flooded her mind with terrifying, blood-soaked images.

"Help me."

A young woman lay all curled up, almost hidden in the shadows. "Oh, shit. What happened? Are you okay? Of course you're not okay. Sheesh . . . what. . . ?" Kneeling beside her, Addie noted her badly torn clothing, the dark bruises, and blood flowing from what looked almost like deep bites in the girl's chest and shoulder. She looked so young, not more than fifteen or sixteen, though her injuries made it hard to tell her age.

Addie tried to steady her hands so she could punch in 911 on her phone. The girl's hand shot out. Bloodied fingers clasped her wrist and Addie bit off a scream as the phone went flying.

It hit the ground and the light went out.

"No. You're the one. You have to . . ." The girl's voice faded, but her clawlike grasp on Addie's arm tightened. She pulled her closer. Addie sucked in a deep breath, fighting terror even as she struggled to hear what the girl whispered.

Suddenly, her eyes flashed with incandescent blue fire. She lunged forward, pulling Addie down with superhuman strength.

"No. Let me go!" Addie tried to jerk free, but the hand holding her wrist was impossibly strong, the woman lying on the ground no longer weak and helpless.

Hissing like a wild thing, she opened her mouth and caught Addie at the juncture where her neck and shoulder met, sinking her teeth through skin, into muscle and tendon. Shocked by pain and fear, Addie tore free, shoved the woman away and scrambled backward on all fours.

The girl—no, she was much older than Addie had first thought, a woman grown—gazed at her out of suddenly dull eyes. "I'm sorry." Bloodstained lips parted. She gasped each shallow, tortured breath. "No choice . . . had to pass the curse . . . to you. Forgive me." She swallowed deeply, shuddered. "Tell them I wasn't strong enough to fight it. Beware. It's more powerful than anything we've seen."

Addie crouched there, watching fearfully.

The woman's eyes flashed. "I don't know what it is," she hissed. "Take care. The thing hunts. It hunts us all." Her eyes went wide. Her lips twisted and she cried out.

Addie stared, trembling in shock and fear as she tried to make sense of the impossible.

The woman gasped. Her body jerked and her back arched. Then, just as quickly, she seemed to relax. A smile tilted her lips and she reached upward, grasping with one hand for something Addie couldn't see.

Then her body burst into flames.

Scrambling away from the intense heat, blinded by the roiling flames, Addie shielded her face and turned away. When she risked a quick look, there was nothing. No ash, no smoke, no stench of burned flesh. No sign of a badly injured woman.

Shaking so hard she could barely stand, Addie found her cell phone lying where it had landed. She had to call for help. She . . . she stared at the phone. Who the hell would believe her? There was nothing here. No sign of anything. All the police would find was Addie, a bit drunk, a whole lot scared shitless.

Slowly, almost mechanically, she grabbed her bag, looped it over her shoulder, and returned to the main trail, trembling so hard she could barely walk. Within minutes, she was home.

After locking and bolting the door behind her, Addie dumped her tote on the brick hearth by the fireplace. She raced into the bathroom, ripped her shirt back and stared at her throat in the mirror.

"Impossible." Running her fingers over smooth flesh, right at the point where pain still throbbed in time with her uneven pulse, she searched for a wound. _Something._ This was the spot, the place where the woman's teeth had sunk deep enough to find bone, where she expected to see torn flesh and drying blood.

_Nothing._ Not a single mark. Even the pain was beginning to fade. Slowly, Addie sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. Sat before she fell on her ass. She couldn't have imagined it. She glanced at the knees of her tan slacks. They were stained with mud. A leaf stuck to the nubby fabric.

She stood up again and held on to the tile around the sink. Raising her head, she stared at her dark and now haunted eyes. Something had happened, but what? Had she imagined it? Was she losing her mind? Was she more looped than she'd thought?

A headache was building, throbbing behind her eyes and making her feel slightly nauseous. Stress or margaritas, it really didn't matter. She stripped out of her clothes, threw them in the hamper and turned on the water in the shower. She stepped under the spray before it was hot. Cold water shocked her into unnatural alertness.

She stayed under the pulsing spray as the water turned warm, as steam rose. Stayed there so long the water cooled once again. Then she turned off the tap, dried herself quickly and grabbed her warm flannel gown off the hook on the door. Shivering again, she tugged it over her damp body. Moving by rote, not allowing herself to think of what had just happened, she went out to the front room of her apartment and checked the lock and the dead bolt on the door once more. Reassured that all was secure, she went into her bedroom and crawled under the covers.

Too nervous to face the dark, Addie left the lights on, but she lay there in her big bed, still shivering. Whatever had happened would make more sense in the morning. It had to. If it didn't, there was only one other explanation.

Not only was she unemployed, she was seriously losing her mind.
Chapter 2

Addie knew she was dreaming. She had to be. Nothing else made a damn bit of sense. She walked through a world that didn't exist, one where strange creatures roamed and multicolored lightning rent the sky. Nothing was real and yet if felt as if she were really there.

And she had amazing powers she didn't understand.

She was a raven, flying over a vast forest, and then a panther with long claws and sharp teeth and a lust for blood.

It should have been terrifying, but she was utterly fascinated, almost as if she were sitting in a theater watching a movie in 3-D. A story began to emerge, one about a battle between the forces of good and evil. Warriors on one side fighting horrendous creatures on the other, but the warriors weren't all that different from the bad guys.

No, the good guys appeared, in some cases, to be just as bad-assed as the ones they fought, and it came to her that sometimes the only way to fight evil was with something even worse. Something bad enough to scare the baddest of the bad.

Why that struck her as funny didn't make any more sense than this amazing dream, but it did. She pulled herself back from the story she was trying to follow, wondering how it worked if the good guys were worse than the bad guys.

Who decided who was good and who was bad? Figuring that out was just going to make her headache worse, but she asked the question anyway. Out loud. In her dream. Yeah, she was definitely losing it.

"Okay, so if the really bad guys take care of all the wanna-be bad guys, who's going to keep the winners in line?"

"You are."

Between one heartbeat and the next, Addie was awake, alert, and scrambling back against the headboard of her bed with the blankets clutched to her chin. Blinking, gasping in shock, she stared at two of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen in her life—two almost identical men standing at the foot of her bed. One, dressed in all-black leather, had skin darker than midnight and ebony hair falling in long silky waves to his waist. The other man was fair, with silver hair hanging just as long, his beauty just as impossible.

"That's where you come in," the dark one said.

"You're the fulcrum," the light one said. "You keep the really bad guys in balance."

"That would be us," the dark one added. Then he smiled. His teeth cut a brilliant white slash against his ebony skin.

Still trapped in a state of utter disbelief, Addie blinked. "I'm not dreaming anymore, am I?"

Both men shook their heads. "No," the dark one said. "I'm afraid you're wide awake. I'm Jett." Both men stepped around to the side of her bed and Jett held out his hand.

Feeling as if she still moved within a dream despite what he'd said, Addie stared stupidly at his fingers as he clasped her hand with his. His skin was warm, his grasp strong. They shook hands.

It was absolutely surreal.

"I'm Locan," the fair one said, grasping her other hand.

Addie vehemently shook her head and pulled free from both men. "No. You can't be here. You don't exist. I locked my door and this is not happening."

Locan shrugged. His silver hair rippled over broad, perfect shoulders clothed in what looked like soft white leather. "Actually, we are here and this _is_ happening. I'm sorry, Addie. I think you must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. . . ."

"No." Jett shook his head and stared at Locan. "Right place at the right time. Poor Leah." He sighed. "She was too badly injured to continue, but she didn't want to be here any longer, anyway. You know Leah's wanted to go for years. It was her time. This one will do fine." He glanced in Addie's direction once again. His gaze traveled slowly from top to bottom.

Addie didn't need to read minds to know what was on his.

She pressed her back against the headboard. "Do fine at what? What's a fulcrum, and who is Leah? And who the hell are you and how did you get into my apartment?" She glanced at the phone lying next to the bed. They were too close. No way in hell could she call for help in time before they reached her.

"Relax, Addie. We won't . . ."

"How do you know my name?" She glanced from Locan to Jett and back at Locan. "You've called me Addie twice now. How do you know who I am?"

"We know everything about you."

Jett's soft voice should have scared the crap out of her. Instead, it was oddly seductive. "How?"

"From Leah," he said. "You found her in the park. She must have bitten you. She gave you the gift. . . ."

Addie's hand flew to her throat. "There's no mark. And she called it a curse, not a gift."

Locan shrugged. "The bite heals immediately, but it's enough to give you what you need, curse or gift. What we need."

"Which is?" This was really freaking her out, but she couldn't stop asking, couldn't stop wondering why it all made such perfect sense.

"Immortality, to a point." Jett glanced at Locan. "You explain it. I'll just screw it up."

Locan's soft laughter was aimed at Jett, not her. "Wouldn't be the first time." He turned his attention to Addie. "Leah's bite gave you the dream you dreamed tonight. What you saw is real. It's happening. The battle is real, the one against demons and other creatures of the night, those trying to subjugate humans and tip the world into darkness." He sighed. "Jett and I, for what it's worth, are not much better. We were once among them, fighting with evil when we weren't fighting each other."

Addie glanced from one to the other. "You fought each other? But if you were both on the same side. . . ?"

Jett chuckled. "Demons don't play well together." He cast a sharp glance at Locan. "If you can't fuck it or eat it, it has little value to a demon."

Addie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, even more aware of the fact she was alone in her apartment with two very strange, sexy, scary men. "What made you change?"

"One like Leah," Jett said. "Like you. A woman strong enough to pull us out of the darkness a long time ago. She showed us what we could be, what we could accomplish if we could hold it together, but we fight a constant desire to return." He shrugged, as if the outcome were neither here nor there. "The lure of the dark side is stronger than the light. Our fate—"

"Our penance," Locan said, interrupting.

Jett laughed. "Our fate," he repeated, emphasizing the word, "is to fight those we once fought beside, but we need the fulcrum, the one who balances our natural instinct to kill one another. . . ."

"The one," Locan interrupted, "who forces us to fight on the side of good despite our nature. The one who diffuses the tension that turns us to the dark side. She who vanquished us, the one who turned us to the light, is long gone. Leah came after. She has held us in line for centuries, but something happened tonight and she was killed."

He glanced at Jett. "I will miss her, but you're right. She was ready to go. I noticed the change in her, as did you."

Jett nodded. "It was too obvious to ignore. She was more than ready. Leah was never cut out for this task. We were a burden to her. A chore, not a responsibility she wanted."

Locan stared at Jett a moment. Frowning, he nodded. "I'd not thought of her that way. You're right." He folded his arms across his chest and focused once again on Addie. "Before she died, Leah passed her abilities to you. That's how we found you. We were searching for Leah. Our search brought us here."

"We're hoping you got her memories as well." Jett turned away from his spot beside her bed and paced across the room. He stopped in front of the window, pulled the curtain aside and stared into the darkness. "We don't have any idea what the creature was that killed Leah. We're hoping you can tell us."

Addie's head spun as if she'd added a few tequila shooters to the margaritas she'd polished off at Paddy's. None of this made any sense.

No. That wasn't true. All of it made sense. The dream, the strange echo of unfamiliar memories, of urges and feelings she couldn't identify. A powerful emotional—even physical—connection to two very strange men. The mysterious Leah's? But how?

Then Leah's final words slipped into Addie's thoughts. "She said to tell you she was sorry. That she wasn't strong enough to fight the creature. Then she said to beware, that it was more powerful than anything you'd ever seen."

Jett turned away from the window. "Did she say what it was?"

Addie shook her head. "No. She didn't know, but she said to be careful, that it was hunting all of you."

"Shit."

Locan shoved his hair back from his face and glared at her. His brilliant blue eyes sparkled, and Addie thought of the blue fire she'd seen in Leah's.

"She said that? She specifically said it's hunting us?"

Addie nodded. "Yeah. She said, 'It's hunting us all.' Why?"

"Because they don't usually hunt us. They come here, avoid us, do their damage to humankind and move on until we kill them, but they're fairly mindless. They never hunt anyone in particular." He turned and stared at Jett. "I didn't get a good look at it. The damned thing moved too fast."

"Sharp teeth, long claws, a couple of extra arms." Jett's laughter carried absolutely no humor. "Stinks like the devil himself."

Locan shook his head. "Well, not really like the devil. No sulfur stench. More like rotting meat."

Jett frowned as he nodded. "You're right. Definitely smelled like death." He turned to Addie. "Are you ready?"

She glanced from Jett to Locan. Back to Jett. "For what?"

"It's time to go hunting."

"Hunting for what?" This was so not funny. Two gorgeous guys show up in her bedroom, but they're both nuts. They had to be, with a story like this. Addie realized she still hugged herself as if she were cold. No, not cold. Just scared shitless.

"For whatever killed Leah," Locan said. "For the thing that tried to kill us. Like we said, you're the new fulcrum. Hunting demonkind is part of the job."

Okay. This was truly way past bizarre and into totally freaky. "I see," she said. "I'm supposed to hunt something that killed the last one with my job. Great. Now why don't you tell me what the other parts of this promising career entail?"

Jett shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary. You hunt demons with us and keep us from killing each other." He shot a quick grin at Locan. "We have some, uh . . ."

"Compatibility issues?" Locan folded his arms across his broad chest.

"Yeah," Jett said. "Compatibility issues."

This wasn't making any sense at all. "Okay. And how do I deal with your so-called compatibility issues?"

"Sex." Jett and Locan answered together, looked at each other and cracked up.

Addie wasn't laughing. In spite of herself, she was imagining getting naked with two of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen, and for whatever reason, she wasn't at all put off by the idea. She swallowed, searching for sanity. "Sex," she said, when she finally found her voice. "I see. With you?"

She was looking at Locan. Jett answered. "With both of us."

"You're the fulcrum." Locan shrugged as he said it, as if his explanation made perfect sense.

"You're the one who'll keep us in balance," Jett added.

_No. Absolutely not._ What was she thinking? They'd just taken this entire episode from bizarre to unreal. As in, _this is not really happening._ Addie carefully slipped out from beneath the covers and stood beside the bed. She looked from Jett to Locan. "I'm going to take a shower," she said. "When I come back out, I expect both of you to be gone. And my doors locked, the way they were before you broke in."

She turned away from the two of them and walked toward the bathroom. None of this was happening—she was merely losing her mind. That was the only explanation. Addie didn't have two gorgeous men in her room. There was no talk of hunting demons, not to mention sex with both men. No. That was like combining the world's greatest nightmare with her ultimate fantasy.

It wasn't happening at all.

A shower would clear her mind. It had to.

She closed the bathroom door and locked it. Pulled a drawer open to block the door so no one could pick the lock and shove it open. As much as she wanted to believe they weren't real, she wasn't about to play stupid. Then she turned on the shower, stripped out of her flannel nightgown and got under the spray.

A nice, warm shower and she'd relax. And then, when she went back into her room her imaginary visitors would be gone and she'd be able to get a good night's sleep.

This was so far past bizarre, Addie figured she'd be laughing about it in the morning.

Laughing, or hunting for a good therapist.
Chapter 3

Locan folded his arms across his chest and cocked an eyebrow in Jett's direction. "Well, that went well, don't you think? Mayhap we should resort to charm?"

"Fuck off." Jett stared at the closed bathroom door. Hell, even Leah hadn't been this hard to convince. Of course, he and Locan had snatched her from a roving band of Pequot natives who'd kidnapped her from a Connecticut colony back in 1637—a couple of reformed demons had probably looked like the lesser of two evils to the innocent young girl.

No, Leah had been easy compared to this one, but she hadn't caught his attention quite as powerfully. She'd been their partner, had done what they asked and kept the two of them from each other's throats, but Jett knew Leah's heart wasn't in it. It never had been. He sensed that Addie could do more for them. She was stronger, more aware of her own power as a woman.

More in tune with her own sensuality, her needs.

Lights in the room blinked. Jett spun and stared at the door, sensed the pressure building. He directed a sharp glance at Locan. "There's no time to woo her, my friend."

Locan's head jerked in a quick nod of agreement and he disappeared. Jett winked out just as abruptly. The two of them materialized inside the steamy bathroom just as Addie stepped out of the shower.

* * *

Addie rubbed the towel over her wet hair, bent at the waist and wrapped it tightly in a knot, and then straightened up. "Holy shit!" Reacting on instinct, she grabbed the towel Jett tossed at her and quickly wrapped it around herself. "What the fuck are you doing in here? How. . . ?"

She glanced at the closed door and the open drawer still blocking it. Her heart pounded and it was hard to get enough air. She didn't realize she'd backed up until her warm butt hit the cold tile counter.

"There's no time for this," Jett said. "Whatever killed Leah is out there right now, in the hallway outside your front door. Locks won't stop it, not any more than they stopped us. It could already be inside your apartment. We need to get out of here; go somewhere safe until we come up with a plan."

"But . . ." She glanced wildly from one man to the other. "I'm naked. I don't have any clothes."

Locan shot a quick look at Jett and disappeared. Addie blinked. No, he was definitely gone. She heard a thump on the other side of the door, a low snarl and a curse. Jett held up one hand for silence. Addie kept her mouth shut, but her heart pounded loud enough to echo in the bathroom.

She was almost sure she heard heavy breathing, and it wasn't hers, but there was something else, a _sense_ of something out there that didn't belong. Almost as if she listened with a new level of hearing, as if her brain was interpreting things in a unique fashion she'd not been capable of before.

Then Locan was back, appearing as suddenly as he'd gone. "Here. Put these on," he whispered. "It's out there. We don't have much time." He handed her a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a sweater, socks, boots, panties and a bra.

Panties and a bra? She flashed him a quick look but he was at the door, listening to whatever sounded as if it was just on the other side. Addie dropped the towel, uncaring if either guy copped a quick look. They didn't. She dressed quickly and slipped on the sturdy hiking boots. Laced them up and realized she didn't have her cell phone.

"My phone's in the other room," she whispered.

Jett shook his head. "You won't need it where we're going." _Can you hear me?_

Holy shit. I can. You're in my head. But how?

Locan smiled and took her right hand. Jett grabbed her left. _Hold on,_ he said.

She did. She glanced up and saw the three of them reflected in the mirror. Her mouth fell open. Jett was on her left, Locan on her right. She held on as tight as she could and stared at the stranger standing between the two men.

Her normally dark brown hair—hair she wore in a fairly short, spiky cut—was now the same silver as Locan's. The dark streak fanning back from a spot over her left eye was every bit as black as Jett's. She couldn't stop staring at herself—at her hair—even as the brightly lit bathroom suddenly swirled into shades of black and gray. Then her stomach did an odd little flip as she felt her feet leave the ground. Her knees buckled slightly as she jerked to a landing.

In the park. The same park where Leah had died.

"We can't stay here for long," Jett said, "but your apartment wasn't safe." He looked over her head at Locan. "It must have followed her home."

"What followed me home?" She really didn't like the sound of this.

"The thing that killed Leah," Locan said. "It was in your living room when I went after your clothes."

"Could you tell what it was?" Jett was scanning their surroundings. Addie decided she really didn't want to know what he was looking for.

Locan shrugged. "I think it's demonkind; not like anything we've fought before. More like a demon on steroids. Bigger, definitely smarter. It watched me, but it didn't attack. I think it knew you guys were close, that I'd have help if it came after me."

"Not that much help. Not nearly enough. We can't even think of confronting it, much less going after it until Addie's had some training. She's not ready." Jett glanced at her.

She didn't say a word. What could she say? _Impossible_ didn't work anymore. She could no longer deny something strange was happening, that Jett and Locan truly existed, that she'd been dragged out of her own reality into one that was obviously theirs—and a hell of a lot scarier than the one she'd left.

She didn't like the sound of anything either one of them was saying. In fact, there wasn't much about this that Addie liked at all, but it didn't appear she had all that much choice.

"I've got an idea." Locan avoided Addie's questioning glance and spoke directly to Jett.

Jett looked past her when he answered. "For once I agree. Now?"

Locan nodded.

And once again, Addie's world spun out of control.

And just kept spinning—at least, until it stopped.

This time she was more prepared for the landing, but not at all prepared for where they landed.

Somewhere that couldn't possibly exist.

Blinking, Addie clung to both men until the ground finally stood still and she didn't feel like she was going to hurl. When she opened her eyes, throwing up was the last thing on her mind.

She'd landed inside her dream. The weird colors, the strange lightning, the quick flashes of impossible creatures moving in and out of her field of vision. "What the hell?"

She held even tighter to both men. Part of her brain—the logical office-worker part—told her that hanging on to two complete strangers capable of flashing in and out of existence really didn't make sense, but the other part, the terrified little girl part, trusted them. She figured they were definitely better than what she'd glimpsed in the unbelievable vicinity.

Taking a deep breath, Addie glanced up, her gaze shifting quickly from one man to the other. "Where are we?"

"Another dimension." Locan shrugged as if it were no big deal.

"We're home," Jett added. "Training starts now."

* * *

"I can't."

Addie glared at him like a petulant five-year-old, and if this weren't a life-or-death situation, Jett might have laughed.

But it was, and he didn't, and if Addie wanted to survive, she had to learn. He wanted her to survive—wanted it on a deep, totally unfamiliar, surprisingly emotional level. Something he'd have to deal with at some point. Later.

"You can. Look at the top branch on the tree, imagine yourself as a raven landing on the branch. I promise you will not fall out of the sky."

"Unless she suddenly thinks she's a dog." Locan chuckled in spite of the look Jett flashed him. "Dog's are lousy flyers."

"So are women. See?" Addie waved her arms. "No wings."

"Because you're not thinking wings." Jett clenched his jaw, angrier at Locan than he was at Addie. She'd been thrown into this without warning. Locan knew better. Time was short and the danger grew by the second. They'd been here at what they considered home base for almost a week now, and Addie still didn't get it. What was even worse—Jett's ability to control his visceral reaction to Locan was weakening by the minute. He glared at Locan and then flipped him off.

Locan's lip curled in a snarl. "Back off, Jett." He straightened up from the stump he'd been leaning against. His eyes flashed, but it was his tone of voice that really grated on Jett's last nerve.

"Fuck you, Locan."

"Just try it, pretty boy. I fucked your pretty ass before. I can do it again."

Locan stepped closer, shoving Addie out of the way. She stumbled. Jett ignored her. All he saw was Locan. The one he wanted to kill was Locan. Rage exploded, burying everything in a thick tide of crimson fury. He grabbed his blade. Steel flashed.

Addie screamed.

Locan's blade was out and his body in motion as Jett lunged forward.

* * *

One second she was crouching low to avoid the sharp cut of Locan's knife. The next she was hanging precariously from a broken branch high in a dead tree, flapping big black wings to maintain balance. She cursed, and the sound was the cry of an infuriated raven.

The men on the ground beneath her stopped in mid-strike. Both of them stared up, their battle obviously forgotten.

"I'll be damned." Locan shoved his silver hair out of his eyes.

"You are damned. Get over it." Jett flashed a quick grin at Locan, as if they hadn't just been trying to kill each other. Then he looked up and smiled at Addie. "Good job, Addie. I knew you'd figure it out."

He bent over, slipped the big knife back into his boot, straightened and brushed his hands on his leather pants. "Now c'mon back down and we'll work on some of your other skills."

Addie wasn't ready to leave her branch. Not yet. She'd done it. She had no idea how, but she was getting off on the fact she was a big black raven clinging to a tree branch, staring out over a landscape that could have been the set of some weird sci-fi movie. Movement in the distance hinted at other life, but it was hard to say what kind. There was no sign of a town, no power lines or roads or anything at all mechanical.

Not far from the devastated meadow where they'd first landed was the opening to the tunnel that led underground to a huge cavern. The same cavern where she'd slept—alone—the past five nights. Or days. She wasn't sure yet how time worked here, wherever here was. There was light but no sun. No mountains—just tumbled rocks and dead trees, burned patches of scorched earth and putrid, swampy pools without a sign of life around them.

She'd asked where they were.

Jett had been the one to answer. He'd merely said they were _between_ , in sort of a no-man's-land in a dimension between what was and what wasn't. As if that made sense.

Locan had told her they thought of it as their home, the place where they came to recover from wounds, to rest, to train.

_Come down, Addie. You've done well._ Jett shoved the thick hair back from his face and flashed that beautiful grin at her.

Addie's reaction to Jett's rare smiles had grown by the hour, the same as her powerful attraction to Locan, but she couldn't think about that. Not now, just as she wouldn't allow herself to think about what she was doing hanging from a tree in the guise of a big black raven.

She merely leapt from the branch and spread her wings. A previously unknown instinct took over and she glided safely to the ground. As her claws touched the earth, she thought of herself as Addie, and she was. "How?" Shaking her head, she looked from one man to the other. "I don't know how I did that."

Locan shrugged. "Neither do I, but as long as you can do it again, it's all good." He looked her up and down and then shot a quick glance at Jett. "She needs weapons."

Jett nodded. "I . . ." His head jerked around and he stared at Locan. "Grab her."

Each man took one of her arms. Suddenly they were in motion—and then they weren't. Addie barely had time to get her bearings before Locan pulled and Jett shoved until they all crouched behind a Dumpster on a dark street reeking of barf and urine and rotting meat.

It's back. The creature we fought.

_The one that killed Leah?_ Addie glanced at Locan.

He nodded.

Where?

_Open your senses,_ Jett said. _It's close. You should be able to feel it._

_Or at least smell it,_ Locan added.

Addie closed her eyes. Now that she knew she could become a raven merely by thinking it, she had a better idea what Jett meant when he told her to open her senses. She actually felt the demon's presence.

It was almost as if she touched a whole new level of sensation, a part of her mind that could see beyond what she'd always considered her own little reality.

That reality now included two sexier-than-hell kinda good guys and one really nasty bad guy. Whatever that thing was, it was close enough that Addie realized the rotting-meat stink was not food gone bad. It was the disgusting creature moving slowly down the alley.

The one with four long arms, a scaled body and a head like a wild boar with sharp tusks and even sharper horns above its eyes . . . the one that appeared to be searching for them.

The one that, absurd as it seemed, looked vaguely familiar, but she'd worry about that later. _How can we fight that thing?_ She glanced from Locan to Jett.

You're not armed, so we'll have to use you as bait.

_Gee. Thanks._ She shivered.

Hopefully, if Locan and I work together, we should be able to overpower it. Last time it surprised us. We didn't know what to expect.

_You think knowing what to expect is going to give you that much of an edge? Crap—he's huge!_ But Addie was still high from turning into a raven. If she thought about it, she'd freak, but somehow, squatting here behind a Dumpster with Jett on one side and Locan on the other, she felt protected by her guys—and they were definitely all hers.

With Jett and Locan beside her, Addie was capable of anything. Even going up against that thing coming toward them.

_It shouldn't be expecting a raven. What if I fly toward it? Shouldn't that distract it?_ Assuming, of course, she could shift into a bird in this dimension.

Locan nodded. _Excellent idea._ He stuck his head over the top of the Dumpster, jerked back down and planted his butt beside Addie. _It's only about ten feet away from us. Are you ready to shift?_

Addie nodded and thought _raven._

Nothing happened.

_Addie? Hurry up._ Jett flashed her a quick glance. He crouched beside her, ready to fight with a knife in one hand and a sword in the other.

_I'm trying. Just a minute. . . ._ The shift happened so fast she exploded from behind the Dumpster, a flurry of black feathers shooting straight up over the creature's head before her mind was fully engaged. Whirling around, she dove toward it, cawing what she hoped was a raven's battle cry.

The demon was hunched over, searching behind a pile of boxes, but it whirled around with deceptive speed and reached for her. Four long arms, claws extended, filled Addie's flight path. She whirled out of reach, still cawing. Jett and Locan leapt from behind the Dumpster with weapons drawn, attacking the demon in a flurry of sharp blades and powerful kicks.

Snarling, the demon spun and reached for both men. Its body was heavily muscled; sharp horns and tusks protected its face and eyes, but Locan drove deep with his blade and left a gaping wound in the creature's left side.

It screamed as Jett came in from the right and left an equally deep cut across its rib cage. Thick black blood poured from its wounds, hissing and smoking wherever it dripped.

Addie circled and attacked again, using her claws and her powerful beak to harry the beast. A long curved talon snagged her tail feathers and threw her off balance, but Jett grabbed her by the neck and jerked her to safety.

Gasping, she used his leverage to regain flight, though with two of her big tail feathers missing, her balance was off.

She flew high to assess the battle.

The creature screeched and twisted to one side and then the other, deftly avoiding Locan and Jett's thrusts. Blood spattered the ground, leaving a trail of stinking smoke as the caustic stuff ate into the asphalt beneath their feet. Snarling and growling, the demon stood with its back to a wall, all four arms extended, claws spread wide.

Both men backed off, breathing heavily. Addie perched on a lamppost just out of reach. The demon snarled and hissed, but even as they watched, the creature's wounds healed. It stared at the two men for a moment, totally ignoring Addie.

Then it winked out of existence. One minute it was there.

Then it was gone.
Chapter 4

Addie returned to her human form as she landed beside her men. Both of them practically quivered with frustration and anger, the fury of a battle left unfinished.

Addie didn't say a word. She grasped their hands and held on. Locan shot her a quick look. Within seconds they were back at the same point where they'd stood only minutes before.

"Like I was saying, you need weapons." Locan abruptly turned and headed toward the familiar opening to the cave.

Addie barely avoided stomping her foot and screaming. Hadn't anyone even noticed? Raven? Flying? Attacking a huge demon? What the fuck did they want from her, anyway? Disgusted, she glanced at Jett.

"It's okay," he said, but his jaw was clenched so tightly Addie knew something wasn't okay.

She wished she could read them better. "What?"

"Weapons. You'll know how to use them once they're in your hands. C'mon. It's time." He grabbed her hand and tugged.

Addie followed. "Time for what?"

Jett looked straight ahead as he followed Locan into the cavern. "Tension is growing. See? We're both having trouble maintaining control." He glanced down at their linked hands.

Addie looked. Her fingers were linked in his, but Jett's hand was no longer entirely human. Long claws curled around her fingers. Shiny black scales disappeared beneath the sleeve of his leather jacket.

She fought her first reaction, to turn him loose and run, but she sensed something that held her in place. He needed her. Both men did. Even more important, Addie realized she needed them. Besides, there was nowhere to go, and for now at least, Jett seemed, well . . . safer than taking off by herself. "What's happening?"

Ignoring her question, he dipped his head and stepped through the low, narrow opening in the rocky berm. The path immediately led down into darkness. Addie followed. Each day her ability to see in the dark grew stronger, her sense of herself and the changes taking place in her once familiar body less unnerving. Jett, though? He was more than a little unnerving right now. "Jett. Answer me. What's happening?"

He paused at a Y in the passage, and the tension around him was palpable. After a moment, he let out a deep breath. "My demonic side is trying to break free."

Addie stared at him. Jett had always struck her as totally unshakable. Right now, he definitely sounded shaken. "Explain, please?" She clung tightly to his hand, to his smooth claws.

He held on just as tight. "Earlier, before we fought the demon, if you'd not distracted us by shifting, Locan and I would have fought to the death. He's on the edge as well."

His jaws snapped shut. He turned right and followed the path around a couple of sharp turns until they stepped out into a larger cavern lit by torches along the walls. Smoke spiraled upward and disappeared through some unseen vent hidden amid shimmering stalactites covering the ceiling.

There was such an _otherworldly_ sense about the place, which made perfect sense. It _was_ otherworldly. Her whole life had suddenly become otherworldly—and very, very confusing. Addie sighed and pulled her fingers free of Jett's grasp. He let her go, turned and watched her over his shoulder.

He looked like he was waiting for something. She wished she knew what. On a hunch, Addie opened her senses. Opened her mind to the air around her, to the two men she'd been trying to understand over the past week.

Their need slammed into her. A desperate, visceral craving for something only Addie could give them. This was what they'd talked about, this tension that could shatter the fragile truce that allowed them to fight together as partners instead of raging against one another. Now that she'd watched them fight, now that she'd gotten to know them—already she cared for them—it all made sense. The way they avoided touching one another, the way they'd been so careful around her.

They were unstable dynamite, primed to blow with the slightest touch. Which meant it was her job, her time, to diffuse the energy. To touch them both.

When they'd first mentioned her role in this odd relationship, Addie hadn't truly understood. Nor with everything else to learn, had she cared. Now, though, after an intense week with two beautiful but mysterious males, she'd developed a strong sense of ownership for both Jett and Locan.

They were hers. To care for. To keep safe.

She stood in the middle of the cavern, a few feet from Jett, much farther from Locan. He'd gone on ahead. She heard water splashing, and followed the sound.

When she walked past Jett, she snagged his hand with hers.

Frowning, he followed.

Locan was in the naturally heated pool that separated the three small caverns each of them called their own. He was naked, his back turned to them, his silvery hair floating in a wide arc behind him, fanning across the water's surface. From the steady rocking motion of his right arm, it appeared Locan was dealing with his tension by himself.

Addie pictured Locan's big hand wrapped around his shaft, sliding up and down his thick length. She tried to imagine the expression she wished she could see, wondered if his left hand cupped his balls the way she'd like to hold them. Arousal slammed into her. Arousal and need unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Arousal so powerful it should have frightened her.

Instead, it only made her want. Made her need—need things she'd never had, experiences she'd never thought to imagine. New and wonderful things that should have frightened her, but she felt no fear. Hadn't her entire life become a new experience?

Arousal coupled with curiosity about her abilities had Addie picturing herself naked. Her clothes disappeared. She turned and glanced at Jett, but he stood there staring at her as if he couldn't believe what she'd just done.

Cocking her head to one side, she asked, "Are you coming?"

Then, without waiting, she slipped into the naturally heated pool and moved close to Locan. His body had gone still. His hands floated loose and relaxed against his thighs. He hadn't climaxed. Obviously, he waited for them, but Addie had no idea what to expect. Would both men make love to her at the same time? Would they want each other or would there be an argument over who would take her first?

Again, trusting the changes in her body, she opened her mind and searched Leah's memories. Images filled her head—images so explicit, so erotic and sensual that her nipples tightened into hard little points and her sex went soft as warm butter. Muscles deep inside clenched in needy expectation.

She glanced over her shoulder as ripples lapped against her lower back. Jett was close behind her, moving through the warm water with compelling determination. His dark green eyes were glazed with lust, and all his focus was on Addie.

Only Addie. It was hard to look away from him, but she was so powerfully aware of Locan on her other side that she finally turned away from Jett to make sure Locan was all right.

He watched her. His eyes flashed blue fire and tension held his body rigid. His ivory cock speared the surface and pressed hard against his belly. The two men stood with Addie between them, ignoring everything but her. A sense of power washed over her, the knowledge that she was all they wanted. What they needed. Her touch, her warmth, her control—and her love.

The emotion blossomed inside her, the unexpected feelings that had been growing since the first time she saw the two of them standing in her bedroom. Bemused, Addie placed a palm on each man's chest, stroked the hard muscles, pinched their taut nipples. Then she was pushing them back against the wall, where a narrow ledge ran almost the full width of the pool.

She'd bathed here before, but always alone. Even then, she'd wondered about the possibilities, pictured exactly what she saw now. She'd had no idea, though, how she'd feel.

Locan and Jett sat close beside one another, their chests rising and falling with each powerful breath. Addie knelt between them, body ripe with need, her heart pounding with emotion. _Love._ Could she possibly love these two?

It was too soon. It had to be too soon.

_No. It's not._ Certainty washed over her. Through her.

The water lapped at her shoulders and touched the men's thighs. Their erections jutted up out of the warm water, one as dark as midnight, the other creamy ivory darkened by the blood pulsing beneath his pale skin. Moving with a new sense of purpose, Addie stroked her lips with her tongue, imagining the taste and texture, the sensation of taking first one man and then the other into her mouth.

They watched her and she wondered at the emotions flitting across the faces of both men. Wondered if they were as surprised as she was over the growing sense that this was so much more than sex, so much more than keeping things in balance.

Moving close, Addie wrapped a hand around each thick shaft. She dipped her head and took Jett first, sliding her tongue over the silky crown, tracing the heavy vein running along the underside, pursing her lips against the sensitive spot beneath the broad head. Then she took him fully into her mouth.

As she sucked him down, her fingers played up and down the full length of Locan's erection. After a moment, she eased Jett's shaft out of her mouth and curled her lips around Locan's crown. Her mouth and fingers never stilled as she went from one man to the other, suckling and touching, stroking and squeezing, tasting the tiny drops of salty-sweet fluid. Arousal thrummed in the air, in her body, in their bodies. Arousal and a sense that this was right; this was what she was meant to do.

Both men thrust into her grasp, into her mouth. Still, they held their hands clenched in tight fists at their sides and allowed her full control. Addie took it. She'd never done anything like this, never been with more than one man at a time, never felt such power.

And never once had she known such a bone-deep sense of commitment to a man. To both men. Did they feel anything for her? Was she more than a means to an end for them?

No matter. She loved. She would show them love and let the decision of how to deal with it be theirs. She raised her head and licked Jett's taste from her full lower lip. "I want to take both of you. Both at the same time."

Both men were huge. She had no idea if this would work, but the words felt right. She searched Leah's memories, but the other woman had always been with one man at a time. She'd seen it as her duty. She gave nothing more than what they required.

Love was not a requirement.

Leah took Locan first, then Jett. Always in that order.

They'd been satisfied, but Addie knew they'd wanted more. Sensed their need, not only for her but for each other. Need compounded by unmet desires, by the knowledge their ultimate satisfaction was entirely up to the woman who was their fulcrum. The one who balanced them.

And now, the one who loved them. Addie wondered if this might throw all of them a little off balance. Wondered if that was a good or bad thing as she slipped over Jett's firm thighs and straddled his narrow hips, as she rose over him, and then slowly lowered herself down over his full length.

He was thick and hot and huge, stretching her as he slowly slipped inside her wet channel. Her muscles tightened and released, pulsing around him, drawing him deep and deeper still.

He groaned. Addie sighed, but her gaze shifted to Locan. He watched as she filled herself with Jett. As she finally came down entirely on that perfect shaft, taking him fully inside. She lowered her lashes, smiled as mysteriously as she knew how. "Locan?"

His lips quirked up in a small half smile. "Are you certain? We've wanted this, but we never . . . Leah didn't . . ."

"I'm not Leah." Still impaled on Jett, she leaned over and kissed Locan. "I haven't done this either, but that doesn't mean we can't at least try." She grinned and then pressed forward against Jett, raising her bottom in blatant invitation to Locan.

She heard his tight chuckle and felt the water lap against her thighs as he moved around behind her. His fingers stroked between her legs, dipped lower and stroked Jett's tight sack as well. Jett's hips jerked.

"Shit. Oh, fuck." Jett's breath hissed between his lips.

Curious, she asked, "Have you done that before? Touched each other? Made love to each other?"

"Yes. No." Breathing hard and fast, Locan kissed the back of her neck. "We fought once. When Jett was new. I was still stronger. I held him down. Fucked him. Forced him."

Addie felt the tension in him. In Jett.

Locan's voice was soft, his breath warm against her neck. "It was wrong, forcing him. But I've wanted to do it again. Wanted to feel him again. Not by force. I think about it a lot."

"Then why haven't you?" She focused on Jett as she asked.

Jett growled and thrust into her. "Because he knows I'm stronger now. I would be the victor. He knows I can beat him in any fight. He doesn't want that lily-white ass fucked." Then Jett chuckled softly and shook his head. "Who am I kidding? I think he does want it fucked. Right, Locan?"

Addie felt Locan's sigh against her ear.

"I do," he said. "We've both wanted it, but the shock of the two of us together would have been too much for Leah. We cared for her and . . ." He sighed. "She was from another time."

"It won't shock me." Addie leaned closer into Jett, raised her butt and glanced over her shoulder. Locan stared at her, wide-eyed. "Well?" she said. "What are you waiting for?"

It worked much better than she'd imagined. Locan must have used some of the soft lotion they bathed with, but he slipped through her tight anal ring with a minimum of pain. Sensations she'd never felt had Addie moaning and pressing back against his thick length. Shivering and trembling, she tried to relax but it was so hard, stuffed as full as she was with both men.

After a few awkward thrusts, the sense of Jett's cock sliding against Locan's inside her, the two men separated by nothing more than a thin sheath, had all three of them groaning and thrusting in an amazingly synchronized rhythm.

Addie felt the first stirrings of her climax and pressed closer to Jett. Locan grunted and his fingers tightened around her thighs as he picked up the pace. His balls slapped her butt and, once again, following her instincts, she opened her mind to the thoughts swirling around her.

Jett was there, teetering on the edge, his legs quivering, his breath stuttering in his chest and hissing between his teeth in short, sharp gasps. Then Addie felt Locan's rhythm change as he pressed deep inside her with short, hard thrusts. He cried out; his fingers dug into her thighs and his release pulsed hot and thick inside her.

As Locan grunted with each spurt of his seed, Jett arched his back and lifted Addie with the power of his final strokes. Hard and fast and so deep she felt the head of his cock slide over the mouth of her womb, felt the hot rush of seed as her inner muscles spasmed, clenching tightly enough to hold them both inside.

Their orgasm went on and on. Lights flashed behind Addie's closed eyelids. Her mind filled with demonic howls and a loop of shared pleasure that left her beyond sated, beyond awareness.

Long moments later, Locan slipped free of her body. Addie rolled away from Jett. His spent penis lay softly against his thigh. She half lay, half sat on the stone ledge with Jett on her left and Locan on her right.

The three of them stayed that way, eyes closed, gasping for air. Addie clasped Locan's hand in her right, Jett's in her left, and thought of what she'd just experienced. What the three of them had shared.

Jett broke the silence. "So . . ." In a deadpan voice, he added, "That went well, don't you think?"

Addie felt a giggle break loose. Then another. She heard Jett's deep chuckle. Felt Locan's chest shaking with silent laughter until he couldn't contain it anymore. The three of them finally gave in, lying there half in and half out of the warm water, laughing like goons.

When Addie finally got herself under control, she rolled her head back on Locan's shoulder so she could look at Jett. "Yeah. I think you could say that. I'm sure we'll get better with practice."

There was a long silence. Addie looked from one man to the other. Glanced down. Jett and Locan were both erect. Again.

She clutched their hands tightly, smiled at no one in particular, and leaned back against the stone wall. Her heart was full. She felt connected as she'd never been before. This was love—all hers to give. She fully intended to keep giving it to both men, whether they wanted love or not.

From the sense of contentment emanating from both men, Addie had a feeling that what she gave, while unexpected, was more than welcome. Maybe, one day, even to be reciprocated.

It appeared all was in balance, as it should be.
Chapter 5

They slept together that night, all three of them in Addie's big bed. Sometime during the night she awakened to the soft buck and sway of the mattress and the shadowed view beside her of Jett between Locan's legs, Locan's heels hooked over Jett's shoulders while Jett thrust and withdrew in a slow, sensual, and inescapable, undeniably loving rhythm.

She watched them for a while and then drifted back to sleep with a sense of puzzle pieces sliding perfectly into place. She'd done this for them. Helped them cross a barrier that had been holding the two men needlessly apart.

Was frustrated desire part of what made them so angry with each other? She wasn't sure, but when they all awakened in the morning, it seemed perfectly natural to take Locan's thick ivory cock in her mouth while Jett mounted him from behind.

Even more natural when both men brought her to climax with tongues and lips and amazingly dexterous fingers. Afterward, she lay there beside them, knowing it was time to get up but enjoying the powerful sense that she finally belonged.

Not merely to Jett and Locan, but to a family. As weird as it was when she thought about it—since they weren't even human—they were hers.

But the best part was knowing she was theirs.

* * *

"Try it again."

Jett waited in the bedroom while Addie stood in the main room. It seemed simple enough the way Jett explained it. Think herself gone from here and being there. So why didn't it work? "I'm trying. It just doesn't make sense."

"You're trying too hard. Don't think it. Just do it. It'll make sense before too long. Trust me."

Addie shook her head. "I hope so. Nothing else does."

Locan popped into the room clutching half a dozen paper bags. "I've got dinner. You guys hungry?"

Addie slammed her palm against her forehead. "Arrgh! How do you do that?" He made it look so damned easy, slipping from one dimension to another. She couldn't even get to the next room.

Locan merely grinned at her. Addie practically snarled at him. "Yes. I'm starving." Grumbling, she followed Locan and Jett into the dining area. "What'd you get?"

Locan held up a familiar bag.

"Tasty Burger?" Addie stopped in front of their perfectly normal kitchen table and stared at the bags. "You got us dinner from Tasty Burger?"

"I did."

"Fries?" Her mouth was watering. How embarrassing. "And ketchup?"

Grinning broadly, Locan sat and handed out hamburgers. Jett took one of the chairs and divvied up the bags of French fries. Addie took a big bite of her hamburger. She didn't even try not to moan. Damn but she loved these things.

She was savoring the act of licking ketchup off a French fry when Locan interrupted. "Look, guys. I was gonna wait, but I can't. When I went after lunch, I . . . Damn. I've got bad news. There are two teams missing. Beth's disappeared altogether. Frieda and her guys are dead."

"You're sure?"

Jett obviously knew who Beth and Frieda were. Addie popped the fry into her mouth and just listened.

Locan nodded. "I smelled that dead meat stench and heard cursing. Got there just in time to see Frieda go down. The guys died trying to protect her. I was too late to save any of them, but Frieda lived long enough to tell me she thought Beth and her guys bought it, too."

"Crap." Jett set his half-eaten burger back on the wrapper. "I wish I knew what the hell we were dealing with. It's not a normal demon. It looks like something out of a cheap movie."

Or a video game!

Both guys turned to stare at her, but it was Jett who asked. "What did you just think?"

"The demon. I knew it looked familiar. I think it's the same as one in a video game a guy where I used to work played. It's called Demonikus _._ The goal of the game is to kill Demonikus before it kills you. It looks just like the one we saw, with four arms and tusks and horns on its head. How can it be real?"

"No idea," Locan said. "But stranger things have happened. Demons exist in other dimensions. Whoever created the game might have unwittingly opened a new portal, some unexpected access to Earth. In the game, how do you kill Demonikus? How do you win?"

Addie shivered. She'd seen more than enough gruesome crap in those stupid video games. The thought that some of it could be real . . . No. She didn't need to go there. One crisis at a time was more than enough.

"It was something really stupid." She frowned and dug into her memory. "Fire. Let me think." She took a big gulp of her soft drink. "In the game, Demonikus's blood is both acidic and flammable. We've seen the real demon's blood—it's definitely acidic. When you're playing, you get points for wounding the creature and making it bleed. Then you use your flamethrower and it burns up." She shrugged and added sarcastically, "I mean, doesn't every demon hunter carry a flamethrower?"

Locan shrugged. "Not all of us, but Jett does."

"Huh?" She swung around and stared at Jett. "Where? I've never seen you tuck one of those into your boots."

Jett shoved his chair away from the table, turned and stared at the wall on the far side of the room. He narrowed his eyes and fired what looked like a laser across the open space.

Flames struck the stone wall and rolled all the way up to the stalactites overhead. When Jett turned back and faced Addie, his eyes glowed red before slowly fading back to forest green.

She stared, absolutely speechless. Finally she cleared her throat. "Uh, were you planning to tell me about that little weapon in your personal artillery?"

"Pretty cool, eh?" Jett grinned. "If you're right, Addie, we should be able to take him down without too much danger. Finish your lunch. I want you to learn how to hop between dimensions before we go, okay?"

"Can't I learn it later?"

Jett and Locan both shook their heads. "No." Locan's gaze was on Jett and something seemed to pass between them. "If anything goes wrong, you need to know how to get back here. Otherwise, you won't get a new team."

* * *

She didn't want a new team. She liked . . . no, she loved this one. Loved both her men with a depth that frightened her, given the short time they'd been together. They made her whole. Hell, she made them whole. In the past couple of days, the tension between Locan and Jett had almost disappeared.

To the point that maybe they didn't even need her anymore?

No. She refused to go there, though she'd noticed them touching one another more often, talking quietly. They seemed at peace in ways Addie hadn't seen before. That they cared for her just as much was obvious in everything they said or did. She'd never felt so much a part of anything in her life. They were more than a team. They'd quickly become a family.

And damn it all if she didn't figure out how to hop dimensions as soon as she'd finished her lunch. It was such a simple thing, now that she was getting the hang of the powers Leah had bequeathed her.

She was getting better with a knife, too, though she preferred a short sword to the dagger Leah had used. Luckily, Locan thought it should be up to Addie what weapons she wore.

They were all heavily armed when they met just outside the cavern. The sky flashed with multicolored lightning and a harsh wind blew across the stark landscape. Addie took Locan's hand in her left, Jett's in her right.

And just like that, they stood on a dark corner beneath a busted streetlamp, not far from Addie's old apartment.

"Do you smell him?" Jett raised his head and sniffed.

Locan shook his head. "Maybe he doesn't want to be found."

Suddenly Addie stared at her old apartment building. "He's over there. I think he's in my apartment." She rubbed her hands over her chilled arms. "I can't smell him, but somehow I feel like I know he's there. How?"

Jett chuckled. "How did he get there, or how do you know?"

She jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "How can I possibly know?"

"Because you need to. That's sort of the way most fulcrums work. And no, don't ask because I haven't got a clue how. Let's go check it out and see if you're right." He took her hand. Locan took the other and they winked out of one spot and just as quickly winked into the hallway in front of Addie's apartment.

She hadn't been back since that night her life changed. The rent was paid through the month. After that, she imagined the apartment manager would just assume she'd skipped out when she lost her job. She thought of the things she'd left, and realized there was nothing of her old life worth hanging on to. That Addie was dead.

She much preferred the life this new Addie lived.

Jett pressed an ear to the door. "I can't tell if it's in there. I don't want to pop in and find it waiting for us."

Addie's sense that the demon was just on the other side of the door grew stronger. "Just a minute." She walked down the hall and stuck her fingers beneath the tangled branches of a potted plant struggling for life in a dark corner. A moment later, she held up her extra key. "Try this."

Locan's soft laughter helped steady her nerves as she stuck the key in the lock and quietly opened the door. Jett slipped through first, with Addie and Locan right on his heels.

The stench of demon was enough to turn her stomach, but the apartment seemed quiet. A small lamp she'd always left on cast a soft glow around the room. The bathroom door was splintered, as if the demon had broken in after they'd escaped.

Her bedroom door was closed. Locan slipped quietly across the threadbare carpet and opened the door. It squeaked and caught on the rug. He pushed it harder and the door swung wide.

The demon shot out through the open doorway, slashing at Locan as it shoved him aside. Locan went down without a sound, his belly ripped open. Blood spurted from the gaping wound and quickly covered his white leathers.

"Locan!" Jett screamed his partner's name as he attacked, slashing his knife, drawing the demon away.

Addie raced to Locan's side and pressed her hand over the horrible wound.

"Help Jett." Locan's voice rasped and he struggled to breathe. "I can survive this, but only if you both live."

"Here." Addie ripped off her jacket and pressed it against his bleeding belly. "Hold this tight." She leaned close and kissed him hard. "I love you. Don't you dare die."

She whirled about in time to see Jett leave a long, bleeding slash across the demon's shoulder, but Jett was bleeding as well. Demonikus had caught him across the back and slashed through the dark leather. Blood seeped from Jett's wounds, but he fought like the demon he'd once been, stabbing and slashing with his razor-sharp blade, dancing out of reach of the demon's long arms, making the creature bleed.

Addie drew her short sword and wondered why she'd thought a short blade was superior to a longer one. Too late to worry now, so she lunged forward, remembering the lessons Jett and Locan had given her, slashing hard and fast as the demon spun to face this new threat.

She sliced through one of his wrists with her short sword and the demon's hand fell to the floor. It hissed where blood burned through the cheap carpet. More blood sprayed from the creature's severed wrist. A few drops splashed Addie and the pain where they hit her bare skin was agonizing.

"Is he bleeding enough?" She ducked, tucked and rolled away to avoid a slashing blow.

"We need to get him farther from Locan. He's too close to risk setting him on fire." They were still too close when Jett's blade slashed across the demon's face. It howled and lunged straight for him. Jett ducked and spun out of the way, but he caught his boot on the edge of the raised fireplace hearth and went down, hard, right beside Locan.

Addie heard a loud crack when the back of Jett's head hit the raised bricks. He didn't move. The creature stood over both men, growling and snarling. His blood dripped in hissing spatters to the floor.

Locan shoved himself up on one elbow. "Addie, love." He gasped through pain and weakness. "You can do it. You can do anything you believe you can do. Burn him. Don't worry about us. You have to stop him."

She raised her head and stared at Locan. Blood pooled on the floor around him. His eyes were glazed with pain. She couldn't tell if Jett lived or died. Didn't know if she had the strength to call up fire when she'd never done it before.

"Do it, Addie. Now. I love you, Addie. Jett and I love you more than life itself. For us, sweetheart. Do it for us."

She jerked her gaze away from Locan's beautiful face. Stared into the eyes of a creature that shouldn't exist, and made herself see flames shooting from her eyes, a brilliant laser beam of fire.

Except nothing happened. The demon focused on her. Took a lumbering step in her direction. Locan tried to stab it, but the knife dropped from his trembling hand. Jett still hadn't moved.

Addie took another step back, and another, drawing the thing away from her men. Luring it to her. She grabbed the lighter she'd left on the table, the one she used to set the fire in the grate burning on those cold nights—all those long, cold nights she'd spent here alone.

She flicked the switch and watched the small flame spark to life. The demon lunged for her. She reached out and shoved the flame into one of his bleeding wounds. It sputtered and went out. The demon screeched and she glared at it with all the hatred in her, the fury and frustration that this thing, this abomination had taken her men from her.

Fire flashed from her eyes, a hot, blazing beam of boiling flames that engulfed the demon in a brilliant inferno. Burning furiously, the creature stumbled toward her, grabbed for her, but she lurched out of its grasp as it stumbled. The thing went down, shrieking hideously as flames consumed it.

Sobbing, Addie reached her men.

Clutching Locan's hand in her left, clasping Jett's limp fingers in her right, she thought them back to their cavern.

Thought all of them home, to safety.

* * *

They floated together in the warm pool. Jett held her from behind with one arm around her waist. Locan was in front with both legs over her thighs. Jett held an icepack to his head, but Addie'd learned something new—shifting between dimensions healed injuries.

Locan's gaping wounds and Jett's cracked skull were fine.

Addie wasn't sure if shifting had helped her nerves or not, but at least they were all alive and Demonikus was dead. She snuggled close between her men and sighed. "Will we ever know how he came to life?"

"Probably not, but he's a warning to us." Locan looped an arm around Jett's shoulders and pulled him close for a kiss. Then he hugged Addie.

"What do you mean? Why do you think he's a warning?" She loved the feel of Locan's embrace, the steady beat of Jett's heart against her back.

Jett answered. "He wasn't a natural demon. He was created by man for entertainment. I wonder what brought him to life?"

Addie chuckled. "Probably all that teenaged boy testosterone. They're the ones playing those dumb games."

"You could be right."

She glanced at Locan, expecting to see a twinkle in his blue eyes, but he looked deadly serious. Addie shivered. Locan hugged her close. She felt Jett's embrace tighten.

Her guys. Holding her tight. Protecting her. Loving her.

"I hope you're wrong, but I'm afraid you're not," she said, absorbing the comfort of two strong men. "There's no shortage of teenaged boys. Or testosterone." She sighed. "So what now?"

"We report in," Jett said. "Work on your skills, and then we go back and hunt more demons."

"Do you ever run out?" She felt him nudging her backside with more than just his warm, flat belly.

"Never. Job security for demon hunters is a given. Which reminds me. Have I thanked you? For saving my life, for making me see what I feel for Locan?" Jett kissed Locan full on the mouth. Then he planted a warm kiss on the back of Addie's neck. "Have I told you yet how much I love you?"

"Can we ever tell her enough?" Locan leaned close and kissed her, thrusting his hips forward, brushing Addie exactly where she wanted to be brushed. And touched. Maybe even tasted. She wasn't all that particular. Not with these two.

"Go right ahead," she said, smiling as they did exactly what she wanted. What they wanted. Together. Their love for one another was as obvious as their love for her. As hers for them.

Did they really need her as a fulcrum? Maybe not, but they needed her to complete the team. To complete them.

Addie wasn't about to complain. Like Jett just said, there was no end to demonkind, so there was plenty of job security. And there was no complaining about the benefits. The kind every girl wanted, and exactly what Addie needed.

Two strong men, loving her. Holding her close. Forever.
Excerpt from Dream Unchained

Following is an excerpt

from the second book in the

Dream Catchers series by Kate Douglas,

_Dream Unchained_ _._

Chapter 1

It wasn't until a tangerine slice of sunlight flashed above the sharp edge of the plateau that Mac Dugan realized he'd spent almost the whole damned night on the deck outside his bedroom.

Sitting in a hard wooden Adirondack chair, freezing his ass off while the woman he loved and his best friend were curled up together in the big bed in the room behind him.

He imagined the two of them—snuggled warm and cozy in a tangle of twisted bedding—and didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the visual. Dink, all long, well-formed male with a sexy mat of dark blond hair across his chest, washboard abs and a strong, sharply masculine face darkened with morning stubble.

And Zianne? Fluffy little gray squirrel.

Last time he looked, she'd had her tail curled around the top of Dink's head and one tiny paw resting on his ear.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

He took a deep breath, pushed back his fear and the sharp burn of frustrated tears and focused on what they'd shared last night. Mac, Zianne, and Dink, together again as they'd been so long ago. Zianne had held on to her human shape long enough for them to make love—the three of them connecting in a way they'd not been able to do since her abrupt disappearance so many years ago.

Twenty fucking years. Twenty years wondering if she still lived. Worrying whether or not all of his creative energies, every spare penny he'd been able to raise, and the combined technological advances of the entire research and development team at Beyond Global Ventures would be enough to rescue Zianne and the few surviving members of her people from slavery.

Twenty years, sixty million dollars and a lifetime of focusing on an impossible rescue would all come down to the next thirty-six hours or so. Fewer than two days for Zianne to live or die, for the few remnants of the Nyrian people to survive.

Or not.

They were so damned close to success, even as the entire project balanced on a razor's edge of failure.

_Shit._ He hadn't allowed himself to consider failure. How could he, and still work toward such an impossible goal? What fool would even attempt the rescue of a small group of alien slaves imprisoned aboard a spaceship—held by another alien race preparing to plunder the earth of all its natural resources?

It sounded ridiculous no matter how he phrased it, so he did what he always tried to do when the fears surfaced. Mac pushed the negative thoughts out of his head. Refused to consider failure. Reminded himself failure was never an option.

Call it denial, call it what you will, but it was the only way he'd survived the past two decades. Focus on the desired outcome. Ignore the rest. Plan for everything that can possibly go wrong, and then put those plans aside and go with one that assured success.

Failure is not an option.

Clichéd, but still the only way to approach an impossible task. Expect success and go for it.

Mac sucked in a deep breath, centered himself, and locked away his fear. He consciously refocused his energy, squinting at the growing brilliance of the sun as it slanted across the huge array of satellite dishes. He studied them with pride, taking comfort in the fact they worked perfectly, that they had allowed his small team of young men and women to make telepathic contact with Zianne's people.

People of pure energy, enslaved eons ago aboard the Gar vessel and forced to power the huge starcruiser now hiding in orbit behind the moon. Unwilling accomplices in the Gar's plans to plunder Earth of all her riches. To take her mineral resources, her air and water—all that kept the planet alive.

The scope of the threat was beyond even Mac's wildest imagination, and his imagination had no limits. The satellite array was proof of that—the fact it had worked so well, that it had allowed his people to contact the Nyrians from the very first day gave him hope that their plan—what there was of it—would succeed. Somehow they would rescue the captives.

Somehow, he would save Zianne's life.

Mac shifted his attention to the square cinder-block building they'd labeled the dream shack. The small building was the center of operations for the entire project, the place where his telepathic team members would hook themselves up to the massive antennae and, via the satellite array, focus their sexual energy on the Nyrians.

And the Nyrians had already proved they knew how to work with such a powerful and compelling source of power. Mac had learned their secret from Zianne over two decades earlier, that the Nyrians, a people without a physical form of their own, could take on corporeal bodies through the power of sexual fantasy.

Could take those bodies and hold on to them, and, once they were able to retrieve their soulstones, they would be free of the Gar and able to make a new home here, on Earth.

If everything went according to plan. "Damn but that's a big if." Sighing, Mac rubbed his hand over his burning eyes. He'd not slept all night and today he would need to be sharp—on top of his game if he was going to be any help at all. He stared at the dream shack, watching as the sunlight brushed the glass dome on top of the building. That had been an act of whimsy—installing a skylight so that the team members could watch the sky as they projected their thoughts through space. They didn't need to see the stars to know they were there, but from what feedback he'd gotten, all of them appreciated the view skyward.

He glanced at his wristwatch as the top half of the sun wavered above the dark edge of the plateau. It was barely six, which meant Finnegan O'Toole had a couple more hours to his shift.

Now there was a guy who'd proved first impressions weren't always correct. Finn had come across as a class-A jerk—brilliant but still a jerk. Then he'd shown more character than Mac or any of the others had suspected when he'd volunteered to go aboard the Gar starcruiser to help with the rescue.

A brave and foolish request by a man who was no one's fool.

What kind of man would willingly step into danger like that?

Me?

Yeah, Mac knew he'd do it in a heartbeat, except he was needed here. This was, after all, his quest, for want of a better word. The culmination of his twenty-year mission to find Zianne, to save her people, to destroy the Gar before they destroyed the world.

It sounded like a grade-B movie when he spelled it out, except it was real. Terrifying, beyond belief, yet all too real.

Who in the hell, in their right mind, would think he had a prayer of success? Of course, no one had ever accused him of being in his right mind. Even Mac's strongest supporters figured he had more than a few screws loose.

In all fairness to himself, what genius didn't march to a different drummer? It was probably a very good thing that the world didn't know the truth—Mac Dugan didn't follow any drummer.

Hell, no. He'd been following the directions of a beautiful alien who drew her physical form from his sexual fantasies. A woman who wouldn't even exist as other than pure energy without the drunken visual of a twenty-six-year-old postgrad student back in the early days of the computer age.

Only a handful of people knew the truth—that his whole career had been based on a four-month relationship with an inhuman creature he'd fallen in lust and then in love with. The same creature now trapped in the body of a little gray squirrel.

Shit. What a fucked-up mess. What chance in hell . . .

"Mac? I thought you came back to bed. How long have you been outside? Good lord, man, it's freezing out here."

Mac leaned his head against the back of his chair and stared upside down at the man shivering behind him. "G'morning to you, too, Dink. Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to disturb you guys." He straightened up and waved at the chair beside him. "Have a seat. You don't by any chance have coffee, do you?"

"You're kidding, right? Me? Make coffee?"

"One can only hope." He chuckled. He might be a world-famous investigative reporter, but Nils Dinkemann had never been known for his culinary skills. "I was afraid of that, but yeah, I know. I lost contact with my toes a few hours ago." A thick down comforter settled over him, still warm from Dink's body heat.

"Okay. This works." Mac drew his feet up under the blanket and tucked all that soft warmth around him. "Damn that feels good. I think it's even better than coffee."

A moment later, Dink flopped down in the chair beside Mac's, wrapped head to foot in another blanket. "I heard some rattling and clanking downstairs," he said. "Sounds like your cook's putting some fresh coffee on. I'll get us some in a few minutes."

Mac grunted in assent. He turned and glanced toward the sliding glass door, but Dink had closed it. The glare of the growing sunlight reflected off the glass.

He couldn't see Zianne. "Is . . . ?"

"She's asleep. Still a squirrel. I left her wrapped in your jacket."

"Thanks." He sighed.

"You okay?"

Mac rolled his head to the right and stared at Dink. "You're kidding, right?"

Dink grunted.

_Hell, no, I'm not all right._ "We'll know in approximately two more days, I guess."

Dink grunted again.

Two more days and Mac would know if all his efforts might actually pay off. And if they didn't?

He sucked in a deep breath. Exhaled. "Cameron was planning to meet the last two Nyrians during his shift last night, which means that by now all of them should have access to functioning human bodies. The first group will be coming to Earth tonight—once they have their soulstones—as soon as it turns dark."

"So what happens today?"

Mac glanced at Dink. There was none of the investigative reporter about him this morning. No, he just sounded like a very concerned friend. Right now, Mac figured he needed the friend more than the reporter, though if all went according to plan, he'd need the reporter even more once the Nyrians were all safe. "Today a couple of the stronger Nyrians are going to show Finn and Morgan how to disincorporate and move through space."

"Holy shit." Whispered softly, more a prayer than a curse.

Mac shrugged. "That's the only way to get them on the ship. Breaking down to molecular particles and traveling with a host Nyrian through space. Sounds good in theory."

"I can't believe you actually got volunteers."

"Morgan Black and Finn O'Toole. Both good guys, physically strong, very sharp. The Gar shouldn't be expecting an attack, but they're always well-armed. According to Nattoch, the Nyrian elder who's sort of their leader, the Gar carry weapons that can disrupt the Nyrians' energy field. Doesn't kill them, but can effectively immobilize them. It shouldn't affect humans, though. Once Finn and Morgan arrive on board the ship, they'll have to rematerialize and disarm the guards so the Nyrians can retrieve their soulstones."

And, Nyria help them, Zianne's soulstone as well. She was dying. Would die within the next few hours without an infusion of power from one of her fellow Nyrians, but even their generous gifts of power couldn't hold her here forever.

Not without her soulstone.

Mac sighed. So much could go wrong. So damned much.

Dink reached across the narrow gap that separated them, took hold of Mac's hand, and squeezed it tightly. "This is the one thing I hate most about being a reporter. Learning the plans, knowing the danger, and realizing there's not a fucking thing I can do to alter the outcome."

Mac squeezed back. "You're here, Dink. That matters more than you realize." He gazed into his friend's silvery eyes, but there was too much emotion, too much to consider right now.

Mac glanced away as the sun finally broke free of the horizon in a blinding blaze of orange and pink against a cerulean sky. It was easier to blame the tears in his eyes on the brilliant flash of sunlight shimmering off row after row of white satellite dishes, marching west across the array with inexorable certainty.

The sun would continue to rise, the days would pass, the world would go on.

But life? Not such a sure thing. Not anymore. This might be the last day for Zianne, but if things went wrong with their plan for rescuing her people, it could also be the end of more than the few remaining Nyrians.

If they couldn't stop the Gar, if the Nyrians were somehow compelled to continue powering their huge starcruiser, it could very well mark the end of everything, at least as far as Earth was concerned.

Zianne and Mac's love wasn't even a blip on the radar, not compared to the ultimate risks they faced.

It wasn't like humans had been such great stewards of their world, but they hadn't totally fucked things up yet. If the Gar had their way, once they moved on to other worlds they'd leave nothing but a smoldering chunk of rock where civilizations had once risen and fallen. Where humans had grown and evolved.

Where Mac had met an impossible, improbable woman; where he'd fallen in love and followed a dream.

A dream that had all the signs of transforming into a fucking nightmare.

He didn't want to think about it. No, he had to believe in success. As Dink kept reminding him, it was the only acceptable outcome. He said it again, whispering the words to himself as he sat there on the deck, his hand tightly clasped in Dink's.

Failure is not an option.

* * *

Cameron Paisley's hand shook so badly he couldn't get the damned brush into the jar of paint thinner. This had never happened before. Not to this extent, not this total loss of self, of time and place and space while painting.

His fantastical landscapes of imaginary worlds had always come to him through dreams, but he'd generally been wide-awake while he painted them. The amount of money they brought in certainly kept his eyes wide open, but this massive canvas was something else altogether.

He vaguely recalled finding the huge canvas in the closet with a bunch of smaller ones that were already stretched. He didn't recall getting it out. Didn't remember setting it up, pulling out his paints. Didn't remember a fucking thing.

It wasn't just big—measuring at least six feet wide and four feet high—but the art itself was haunting. Beautiful. Unbelievable.

Utterly terrifying.

Even more frightening? He couldn't remember painting a single stroke, yet he knew it was his work, done in his style. It was a world he'd never seen, and yet he knew exactly what it was. Where it was. And he knew, without a doubt, that it no longer existed as it once had. As he'd painted it.

He finally managed to drag his gaze away from the mass of dark and fearsome images, focused his attention on the jar of thinner, and jammed his brush into the solvent.

As if someone physically forced him, Cam's eyes were drawn back to the painting. His hands were still shaking. Critics had asked over the years if his work was more than his imagination. He'd always said his paintings were the product of dreams.

This was no dream. This hadn't come to him during his shift in the dream shack. No, this had taken him over like a bad drug trip, had caught him up for . . . He glanced at the clock on the wall. Two hours?

Stunned, Cam stared at the canvas. He worked fast, but this painting was huge and filled with such detail that it should have taken him much, much longer.

Days, not hours.

It hurt to look. To realize what he saw in the bold strokes, the splashes of color, the finer details set within an unyielding maelstrom of shapes and images. He'd painted fear and death, abject loss and total destruction.

A world in the agonizing final spasms of existence.

Forcibly turning his back on the art, Cam grabbed a rag and wiped his hands clean. Somehow he had to clear his head; he needed to make sense of this.

Tossing the rag aside, he quickly slipped out of his clothes and left them in a pile on the floor in front of the easel. Naked and shivering in the morning chill, he walked quickly through the bedroom to the bathroom.

He caught a brief glance of himself in the mirror. As always, he averted his eyes and turned on the tap in the shower. So stupid, the way he always reacted to his own image.

Someday he'd probably wish he still looked like an overgrown teenager, but for now, it would be nice to look his age. It was hard enough getting the established art world to take a thirty-year-old man seriously. A guy who looked about seventeen got absolutely no respect.

Did it really matter? Shit, no. If he believed Mac—and there was no reason not to—if Mac's project failed, there wouldn't be a fucking art world to worry about.

Cam grabbed a washcloth off the rack beside the shower, stepped beneath the spray, and concentrated on emptying his mind of everything but the welcome heat of the water, the way tension slowly eased out of tired muscles beneath the pounding spray. A more welcome thought intruded, that he'd finally experienced what the other members of the dream team had known all along—sending sexual fantasies to Nyrians had one hell of a payback.

After two nights of fantasizing about his art and the pending rescue of the aliens, he'd finally gotten on track during last night's shift.

Had he ever. The thought had barely registered when a coil of arousal shocked him into immediate awareness. His balls drew close to his body; his cock throbbed with new blood.

"Down, boy." At least this part of him looked and acted like a grown-up. Chuckling, he smoothed his hand over his taut shaft, paused a moment to slip his foreskin over the broad head and back again. A shiver raced along his spine. A shiver of pure carnal pleasure. He turned his dick loose and brushed his wet hair out of his eyes. Even without stroking himself, his arousal seemed to be growing, just from remembering his shift last night in the shack.

And to think he was getting paid for this! Being a member of Mac Dugan's dream team definitely had good bennies. Using his imagination to broadcast sexual fantasies to aliens who gained power from his wild thoughts might sound totally impossible, but when those fantasies were combined with Mac's powerful satellite array to boost their energy, the results were beyond amazing.

He thought of the two women who'd come to him during his shift, the last of the twenty-eight surviving Nyrians to make the journey to Earth for the combination of sexual power and visual images necessary to create their own corporeal bodies.

He'd certainly liked the bodies his two visitors had chosen, and he'd definitely loved what they did with them. Once the Nyrians had a solid form, they seemed to delight in the sensual pleasures their new human bodies allowed.

Granted, everything had happened in his head—or at least he thought it had—but it had felt like so much more.

Sort of like the painting. He wondered if Mac was awake, if maybe he ought to show it to him. Shit. He let out a huge breath. He could be wrong, but he was positive the damned thing was . . .

_Oh. Fuck._ The soft brush of something warm along his inner thigh jerked Cam out of his convoluted thoughts.

Out of his thoughts and right back here, to what could only be a dream. "Mir? Niah? What are you doing here?" He blinked furiously, clearing the water out of his eyes. Both women, his Nyrians from the night before, here? In his shower? He was awake, damn it. He wasn't fantasizing.

"Hello, Cam." Mir gazed up at him, all bright smile and gorgeous, naked body. She and Niah knelt at his feet, almost mirror images of one another except for coloring. Where Mir was all sultry and dark with long black hair, dark coffee eyes, and skin the color of polished oak, Niah was her opposite. Platinum hair, eyes of molten silver, and skin so fair and fine as to make her look like a carefully constructed porcelain doll.

Yet her lips were red—deep red, slightly parted, and at this moment approaching . . . no. Oh, crap. They were sliding deliciously over the head of his wide awake, _please-play-with-me_ dick.

Groaning, he braced his hands against the slick walls of the shower and prayed his knees wouldn't buckle. There was no thought of stopping her—last night he'd quickly learned that Mir and Niah did exactly as they pleased.

Except, that had just been fantasy, right? Holy shit. What did it matter when they were here, now, in his shower? Mir stood. Rising gracefully as a sylph, she slipped around behind him, lightly tugged the wet washcloth from his nerveless fingers, and slowly swept it across his shoulders. She stroked his back, his buttocks, and the backs of his thighs, while Niah slowly took him deeper and then deeper still, sucking his full length into her mouth, down her throat.

_Oh. Fuck._ He tightened everything—his buttocks, his thighs, the muscles across his stomach. Tightened and prayed for control, but he could feel it slipping, even as Mir dropped the washcloth and pressed against his back.

She was tall enough that her breasts hit just below his shoulder blades, her nipples beaded up so tight he felt them, twin little bullet points of sensation. Then she was sliding, sliding down, slowly dragging her breasts down his back, running her fingers over his flanks, dropping to her knees behind him.

This was so much more intense than last night when he'd slipped between fantasy and reality, and he'd wondered then if he'd survive their curious explorations. Now, Niah knelt in front, sucking his cock. Mir had gone to her knees behind him, pushing his legs apart, licking the sensitive curve of his butt and then wrapping long fingers around his sac.

He might have whimpered. Knew he was cursing steadily, though if he'd been asked exactly what words he used, Cam doubted he could have given an intelligent answer. Mir forced his legs farther apart, somehow twisting around so that she had her mouth on his balls and her tongue doing something that had to be illegal in most states.

Probably on the planet.

Did it matter? Hell no. Hell. No. No . . . shit.

He tried to stop it. Honestly, he'd never fought so hard for control in his life, but there was no way. Not any way at all to stop what these two women had so quickly set into motion.

Lips and tongues everywhere; fingers on his balls; a hot, tight mouth and throat taking control of his dick. A finger teasing his ass, pressing, entering, sliding deep, pressing . . .

He cried out. Cursed. Shouted.

Climaxed.

Cam struggled to stay upright, but gravity won and he slowly gave in. His knees buckled and his hands slipped along the wet tiles until he was half sitting, half lying on the floor of the shower with the water beating him in the face.

Mir and Niah giggled with utter delight.

He opened his eyes and stared at the women. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going back to finish your shift."

"Nattoch wanted us to gather more energy." Niah licked her lips. "You weren't fantasizing enough to provide energy. We decided to help you along."

"You were sad," Mir said. She stood and offered him a hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers and she tugged him to his feet. "Your sadness distresses us. Come. Let's dry off and do it again. This time with laughter."

Cam thought of the painting in the other room. Thought of what it might be, what it meant. Then he looked at the women—two absolutely beautiful, wet, naked women—waiting impatiently for him to make up his mind.

He shut off the water, grabbed a towel off the rack, and ran it over Mir first, and then Niah. They preened like glossy, well-loved cats.

Cam dried himself. His legs had stopped trembling. His erection hadn't subsided a bit, and it was still awfully early in the morning. The painting could wait. He'd talk to Mac later. Tossing the wet towel over the shower door, he followed the women into the bedroom.

He glanced out the window as first Mir and then Niah crawled into the middle of his big bed. The sun was barely up. Mac was probably still asleep. Cam turned his attention to the bed.

To the women on his bed.

It was still made up from yesterday. He'd never gone to sleep at all last night. Not that he intended to sleep now.

At least, not for a while. Mir held out her hand. He took it, let her tug him close, but instead of her slim fingers and the look of pure devilment in her eyes, for some reason he thought of the painting in the other room.

The dark, angry red landscape with its familiar pattern of canals and lines, only he realized, now that he'd actually painted them, they weren't canals at all. Astronomers had been totally off base. Those Martian canals had been highways. He'd painted cities and farms, forests and parks and big factories, all in the midst of terrible upheaval. A once living planet under attack.

Dead and desolate now, and the image of its change had come from someone aboard the Gar vessel. That had to be the source of this vision. He felt a terrible pain in his chest and thought again of waking Mac, of telling him what he'd seen.

Then he caught the scent of vanilla and honey, and the painting slipped from his mind, his thoughts filled now with the women he'd literally conjured out of fantasy. Gently, he pressed Mir back against the pillows and parted her thighs with both hands. Her skin was like silk, her smile filled with so many promises, so much hope. He sent a quick smile to Niah. "You next," he said. Then he winked as Niah settled beside them to watch.

He knelt between Mir's legs with his palms beneath her firm, round buttocks, lifted her for his pleasure, and discovered that yes, she did taste exactly like vanilla and honey.

* * *

Morgan Black lay beside Rodie Bishop and watched the first rays of morning sun cut across the tumbled blankets. The bed seemed almost empty with just the two of them, but Bolt, their Nyrian lover, had returned to the ship at some point during the night. Morgan had slept through his departure.

Still so hard to believe that in the past few days he had not only interacted with aliens, he'd had some pretty mind-blowing sex with them. His thoughts drifted to the five Nyrian women he'd called with his fantasies—women who now had the human forms they'd need when the DEO-MAP team put their rescue into action.

Five Nyrian women, one Nyrian man.

And then there was Rodie.

She'd caught him by surprise, and yet it was as if she'd always been there, always a part of his life. The feelings he had for her, the woman herself . . . Hell, it still felt like a dream.

He'd never had a steady relationship with a woman before, and nothing all that serious with men. How could so much have changed? Now he had Rodie, though what he had with her was a mystery. How much was real and how much fantasy?

He didn't know for sure, but he was willing to find out.

He had Bolt and the other Nyrians, creatures he'd known for such a short time, and yet . . . they mattered. Mattered to him in a way that was almost impossible to describe. As if the forms they'd taken from his mind had left an indelible imprint on his soul.

Essentially, they had become family. His family. And not just the Nyrians—no, the entire dream team was closer than those few he could claim by blood. These were the ones who mattered.

Finn and Cam were the brothers he'd never had. Kiera and Liz were like little sisters. And Mac? How did he describe his feelings for Mac Dugan? Not just a friend, not even a brother. More a mentor, a trusted male, someone Morgan actually admired.

There were very few men he'd ever admired in his life.

And oddly enough, Finn O'Toole was one of them, which was almost laughable when he thought of his first impression of the irascible Irishman. He'd pegged O'Toole as a jokester without a serious thought in his head, a guy who was more concerned with bagging his next woman, adding another notch to his proverbial bedpost.

He'd been wrong about Finn O'Toole. At least he hoped so, since he'd be trusting him with his life. Today, he and Finn would learn how to dematerialize, or disassemble, as the Nyrians called it. Essentially, he'd be reducing himself to the molecular level and hitchhiking within the energy mass of an alien creature in order to travel from Earth to the Gar ship that was currently in orbit behind the moon.

Yeah. Sure . . . and it was a good thing he didn't have a clue how this was going to happen or he'd probably be scared to death, but somehow, doing something that was so far beyond belief didn't register well enough to actually terrify him. Yet.

Rodie let out a soft snore and snuggled against his side. He tightened his arm around her shoulders. She was just as far beyond belief as dematerializing. Rodie Bishop was someone else he'd underestimated.

He'd thought she was interesting and kind of cute.

He'd had no idea she would totally rock his world.

Of course, when he'd signed on to this project, he really had no idea what he was getting into. Definitely a good thing, being so ignorant, or he'd never have agreed.

And then, just think what he'd be missing.
Excerpt from Dark Wolf

And here's an excerpt from the first book

in the new Spirit Wild series

by Kate Douglas,

_Dark Wolf_.

Chapter 1

Crickets chirped. An owl hooted. A dusting of starlight shimmered faintly against granite peaks, but here at the forest's edge, all was dark. Shivering slightly in the cool night air, Sebastian Xenakis stood beneath the gnarled oak, just one more shadow among many. With great humility and as much confidence as he could muster while standing naked in the darkness, he raised his arms, drew on the magic coursing through his veins, and once more called on the spirit within the tree, one he affectionately thought of as _the lady_ , humbly asking for her strength.

Nothing.

"Damn it all." He exhaled, accepting the rush of air for what it was—a huge blast of frustration at the serendipitous nature of his magic. He stared at the massive tree towering overhead and methodically emptied his mind of all thoughts, all distractions. He put aside anger and frustration, fears and hopes, leaving room for nothing but _here_ and _now_. Focusing everything within, he opened his heart to possibilities, and waited.

A few long, frustrating minutes later, he felt her warmth envelop him. An unexpected frisson raced across his bare shoulders, along his arms. It caressed his naked buttocks and swirled over his belly, lifting the dark line of body hair that trailed from navel to groin. Then it slithered along his thighs, circled his calves and tickled across his bare feet. His cock, flush with hot blood, swelled high and hard against his belly, giving homage to the gift of power.

Then, sliding away as soft as a whisper, the intimate sense of touch, of sentient communion, bled off into the damp loam and returned to its source through thickly tangled roots. Sebastian sighed, a shuddering acceptance of sensual pleasure, the gift of contact with such a powerful force.

The lady of the oak.

His erection remained, strong evidence of her touch, the visceral connection he'd made with a spirit ancient beyond recorded memory. His body thrummed with her life force, with her power, until Sebastian felt each and every one of her thick and twisted branches spreading far and wide, until he bowed beneath the age and innate wisdom of the ancient tree. This mother oak must have stood here, a silent sentinel of the forest since long before the dawn of modern history. A few heavy branches had fallen over time, but he knew her roots were strong, her branches healthy. As if challenging time itself, the graceful beauty and symmetry of the tree remained.

He remembered the first time he saw the oak, recalled the sense of life, the sure knowledge of the tree's spiritual power. It was on that day he'd learned his father wielded the kind of power Sebastian had quickly grown to crave.

Standing just beyond the reach of the great branches, unsure of his relationship with a man he barely knew, Sebastian had watched Aldo Xenakis call lightning out of a clear, star-filled sky—call it and control it with the deft hands of a master.

He'd been seduced so easily, so quickly by that flashy show of fire and magic. Of power. Immeasurable power. So thoroughly seduced he knew he might never break free of its siren call.

Might never break free of the man he'd consciously sought, despite his mother's warning. Now it was much too late. His die had been cast, commitments made, and he was almost glad his mother was dead.

Glad she couldn't see what he'd become.

Sebastian quickly shoved thoughts of his moral weakness, his failures—and his father—aside. There was no need to mar the beauty of this night. He took a deep breath and then, almost as an afterthought, cleared his mind of all obstructions and drew more power to him. Pulled it from the earth, from the sky, from the water of a nearby stream, from the mountain itself. The fire must come from within, but he called on that as well and felt the power build.

Then he buffered the swirling energy with the strength of the oak until it was entirely under his control. Until he was the one holding the power.

Unlike his father, unwilling to display or even acknowledge such arrogance, Sebastian turned and bowed his head toward the oak, giving the tree's spirit his grateful thanks for her help. Then, spreading his fingers wide, he consciously breathed deeply and opened himself to the energy flowing into him from all directions. A brilliant glow surrounded him, but it wasn't lightning that lit the dark night.

It was power. Raw power he'd pulled from the earth, from the air and water. From the spirit in the tree, and the fire burning in his soul.

Within seconds, the light blinked out. Gone as if it had never existed at all.

As was the man. In his place, a wolf darker than night raised its head and sniffed the air. Then it turned away and raced into the forest.

* * *

"Lily? Have you seen this morning's news?"

Lily Cheval fumbled with the phone and squinted at the bedside clock in the early morning darkness. Blue numbers blurred into focus. Her best buddy looked at her out of the screen on her phone. "Alex, it's six fifteen in the morning. On a Sunday. What can possibly be important enough to . . ."

"There's been another one, Lil. Just inside the entrance to the park this time."

Lily bit back a growl and sat up. The last body, discovered less than a week ago, had been found along the highway leading into Glacier National Park in Montana. Much too close to the Chanku pack's main residence. The one before that had been on the outskirts of Kalispell. "What have you got?"

Alex sighed and wiped a hand across his eyes. Poor Alex. How he'd ever ended up as the pack's liaison to the Flathead County sheriff's department was beyond understanding. He might be brilliant and charismatic—not to mention drop-dead gorgeous—but he was not cut out to deal with, much less deliver, bad news, especially early on a Sunday morning.

She wondered if he'd even made it to bed the night before. His eyes looked bloodshot, and Alex did love his social life on a Saturday night.

Even in Kalispell.

"Same as the last seven," he said, pulling her back into the conversation. "Young woman, beaten, brutally raped. Throat torn out. Just like the others, probably killed somewhere else and dumped. A park ranger found her body beside the road."

"Shit. I hope you've got an alibi." She hated having to ask, but with public sentiment the way it had been heading . . .

"I was with Jennifer last night. I got the call on the way home this morning."

Jennifer. Poor choice of woman, but at least she could account for Alex's time when the attack occurred. Frustrated, Lily dug her fingers into her tangled hair and tugged. Anything to help focus her thoughts. "Let me know what you find out. Check with the pack, see if they've got any new leads. I'm stuck in San Francisco until after the reception, but I'll try and get up there by the weekend."

"Okay. Sorry to wake you, but I just wanted to warn you. Be careful. Whoever's behind this, they've hit the Bay Area just as hard. I'll find out what I can. Thanks, Lil."

Quietly Lily set the phone back in the charger and leaned against the headboard. Another young woman dead. Another murder with all the signs of a wild animal attack—except for the rape.

Just like the other seven.

Eight young women, dead by a combination of man and beast. Five in or near Glacier National Park. Three in the San Francisco Bay area.

And where were the largest populations of Chanku shapeshifters?

"Glacier National Park and the San Francisco Bay Area. Shit." A chilling sense of premonition shuddered along Lily's spine. If they didn't find the one behind this, and find him soon, someone was going to be hunting Chanku.

* * *

The sharp click of Lily's heels echoed against the pale gray walls of Cheval International, one of the more profitable branches of Chanku Global Industries. She walked quickly toward her office, wishing she could ignore the tension headache pounding in sharp counterpoint to her footsteps.

Her father insisted headaches were purely psychosomatic—according to Anton Cheval, Chanku shapeshifters were impervious to human frailties. "Tell that to my head," she muttered, timing the steady throbbing between her eyes against the click of her heels.

Damn. She did not need a headache. Not on a Monday, not with a full day of meetings ahead, including lunch with the mayor and a one-on-one with the head of security.

Resentment of the long-lived Chanku shapeshifters had been simmering for years, but the recent series of attacks against young women had brought that simmer to a boil. It didn't help that a local celebrity had taken a very public stance against the Chanku, blaming them for everything from the current downturn in the economy to the vicious rapes and murders.

Aldo Xenakis had been a thorn in Lily's side ever since she'd assumed leadership of Cheval International. Recently, his verbal attacks had taken on a frighteningly personal slant.

It didn't help that he owned a massive amount of land that abutted her father's vast holdings in Montana. It was bad enough he was stirring up resentment here in California, but Montana was home. Having longtime friends and neighbors turn against them hurt Lily and the rest of the pack on a much more personal level. They'd worked hard at being good neighbors, at integrating themselves into the community.

Now this.

"Good morning, Ms. Cheval."

"G'morning, Jean." Lily paused in front of her assistant's desk. "Have you got today's calendar?"

Jean nodded. Gray-haired, round-faced and very human, she'd been Lily's assistant since Lily'd been named CEO of the company seven years earlier. And, while Jean continued to age, Lily still looked as youthful and fresh as the day she'd walked out of UC Berkley with her MBA.

One more reason for humans to resent shapeshifters, though she'd never noticed any resentment at all from Jean. Considering the good pay and generous benefit packages all CGI employees—including all Cheval International hires—received, she didn't expect it to become an issue.

Lily glanced over the daily calendar Jean handed to her. The morning wasn't too busy, but . . . "Why have you got a question mark by my lunch date with the mayor?"

Jean shook her head. "Her office called a few minutes ago. When the mayor's schedule went out to the media yesterday, they forgot to black out your lunch appointment. Reporters know when and where you're meeting, and the mayor said she'd understand if you decide to cancel."

The pounding between her eyes got worse. Goddess, but it had been too long since she'd shifted and run. Right now, Lily really wanted to chase down something furry and kill it. "Not necessary," she said, rubbing her temple. "We really need to talk. Maybe I'll wear a disguise."

Jean grinned as she gave her an appraising look. "Don't think that would help. You're hard to miss."

Lily raised her eyebrows and glanced at Jean. "Thank you. I think." She grabbed the mail Jean handed to her and headed toward her office, but paused at the door. "I'm expecting a call from Alex Aragat. Be sure and put him through even if I'm on something else."

"Okay." The phone rang, but before answering it, Jean added, "You'll find a list of the calls you need to return on your desk. Uhm, more than a few from your father." Lily just shook her head when Jean laughed and said, "He wanted to remind you not to forget the reception Thursday night."

"I wish," Lily muttered, but she turned and smiled at Jean. "I won't. And even if I wanted to, dear old Dad would make sure I got there on time."

Lily shut the office door as Jean took her call. She glanced at the clock over the bookcase. Seven thirty, which meant that with any luck, she'd have time to get her desk cleared before lunch. Her head was still pounding like a damned jackhammer, but she flopped down in the comfortable chair behind her desk and read through Jean's messages. All were carefully organized by importance. The stack from her father—and damn, but how many times had the man called?—was set off to one side.

She knew he'd be up. Might as well check in with the boss first. The phone rang as she reached for it. She glanced at the caller ID, sighed, and flipped on the video.

"Hello, Dad. I was just getting ready to call you."

"How's your headache?"

She frowned at his smug image. "How do you know I've got a headache?"

"Because I've been trying to mindspeak all morning and I know you're blocking me."

"Oh." No wonder her head hurt. She'd developed the habit of keeping her shields high and tight since she was just a child, but that never kept her father from trying. He'd rarely managed to give her a headache, though. "Well, if you knew you were giving me a headache, why'd you keep pushing?"

No answer. Typical. She was convinced he only heard what he wanted to hear.

"You've talked to Alex."

Not a question. He'd know, of course. Anton Cheval knew everything. "Yes. He called first thing yesterday morning, but he didn't have any details. I expect to hear more today. Have you learned anything else?"

"How well do you know Aldo Xenakis?"

"Not well at all," she said, used to her father's non sequiturs. Amazing . . . her headache was gone. She almost laughed. Dear old Dad had been the cause all along. "Why do you ask?"

"His son will be attending the reception Thursday night. I want you to meet him."

"He has a son? Since when? I thought Xenakis lived alone."

"The younger Xenakis has stayed in the background. From what I've learned, he didn't even know Aldo was his father until a couple of years ago. When the boy's mother died, he traced Aldo through her private papers."

"Interesting. Why do you think the son's important?"

"He's been staying at his father's home up here for the past month. You know where the house is. It's a few miles from our place, though our properties share the southern boundary. Tinker thought he smelled an unfamiliar wolf near the edge of our holdings night before last. He traced the scent to a ridge on the Xenakis property. The wolf scent disappeared, but he picked up the trail of a man and followed it to the house. The only one there was a young man who appeared to be Xenakis's son."

"He's Chanku?" Now that would be interesting, considering how xenophobic the father was.

"We don't know. The elder Xenakis has powerful magic. If the son inherited his father's gift, he could be shifting by magical means, not natural. I want you to get close enough, see if you sense anything."

"Do you think he's our murderer?"

"I don't know, Lily. But the women have been killed near Kalispell and in the San Francisco Bay Area. Xenakis has homes in both places, and his son spends time at both locations. I've got Alex looking into his schedule now, checking flight records, that sort of thing. Be very careful."

"One question. What's his name? How will I know him?"

"Sebastian. I don't know what surname he used before, but he's taken his father's name. Look for Sebastian Xenakis. Tinker says he's tall with dark hair. And really odd eyes. Teal blue, according to Tink. Not amber like most of us. And Lily?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, sweetheart, but I have a bad feeling about this. Be very careful. We don't know a thing about this guy, but he's got my sense of premonition in high gear. No specific danger, just a strong feeling he'll have some kind of effect on our family."

Lily stared at the handset long after her father had ended the call. The pack might tease Anton Cheval about his premonitions, but invariably he'd been proven correct. She flipped on her computer and typed in Sebastian Xenakis's name.

It never hurt to be fully informed about the enemy.

* * *

"Lily. So glad you agreed to meet even after my office bungled this so badly."

"Well, hopefully the media haven't bugged the dining room." Lily smiled at the mayor and shook her hand. "It's good to see you, Jill." Then she nodded toward the group of reporters gathered just outside the restaurant. "I was hoping they were here for you, not me. It's been a while since I've run a gauntlet like that."

Mayor Jill Bradley shook her head as she reached for the menu. "It's the killings, Lily. We're doing everything we can to keep a lid on things, but . . ."

"I know." Sighing, Lily reached for her own menu. "I heard from Alex Aragat, our pack's law enforcement liaison in Montana. People are scared, and I can't blame them. My father's got every available resource working on this from our angle."

Jill shook her head. "My gut feeling is that it's not a Chanku killing these girls. I think someone's trying to raise public anger against shifters."

Lily had to agree. "Dad feels the same way, but until this guy is stopped . . ."

"Or they. DNA is inconclusive, but I've been told it points to more than one perp. Wolves, definitely, but possibly more than one human committing the rapes."

_Crap._ "They've narrowed it down to wolves?"

"Yes. We're keeping a lid on that info." Jean spread her hands in a helpless gesture. "Your people are catching enough flak as it is."

"No kidding. Is it a single male? If a woman had consensual sex before the attack, it could explain more than one."

Jean nodded. "There's one consistent set, a few variables. That's the conclusion. For now."

The waitress reached their table before Lily could respond. Jill set her menu down to place her order; Lily closed hers and studied the mayor. Jill Bradley had held her post for almost five years now, and her popularity had yet to wane. She'd become a good friend and a powerful ally, a woman Lily would have liked and admired even if she hadn't been the mayor.

It never hurt to have friends in high places. Smart friends. The fact she had already considered what Lily figured was happening was a good sign. She glanced up and realized the waitress was waiting patiently for her order.

"Hamburger. Rare." Lily smiled at the waitress, waiting for the admonition that rare beef wasn't safe. Instead, she got a saucy wink. "You got it. Be back in a minute with your wine."

"Did we order wine?"

Jill laughed. "It's on me. I figured you could use a glass about now. I know I sure can. Let's discuss the reception and your father's generous donation. The other topic is too frustrating when we don't have any answers."

"I agree. I think we're being set up, but I'm not sure it's more than one person."

Jill's dark brows drew down. "You'll let me know if you learn anything to substantiate that, won't you?"

"Of course. Alex Aragat, our pack liaison with local law enforcement in Kalispell, is working on a couple of things, but at this point it's all supposition."

The waitress reached the table and opened a bottle of wine. She poured a taste for the mayor, who sipped and quickly agreed.

"I'll have your meals in a few minutes. Enjoy." Smiling, the young woman moved on to another table.

Lily tipped her glass in a toast to her friend. "Here's to the new wing at the museum. I saw it this weekend. It's turned out beautifully."

"Thanks to your father's generosity."

Lily dipped her head, acknowledging the mayor's comment. Anton Cheval, via Chanku Global Industries and its subsidiary, Cheval International, had become a generous benefactor over the years, and Jill Bradley's status as mayor had benefited greatly from his many gifts to the city during her administration.

"Consorting with the local fauna, Mayor Bradley?"

Lily fought the urge to spin around and glare. Instead, she sat perfectly still, outwardly calm and relaxed, though she raised one eyebrow at the mayor. Jill set her wine on the table and glowered at the man beyond Lily's shoulder.

"There's no call for such rude behavior, Aldo. You're interrupting a private lunch."

Lily slowly turned in her chair, at a disadvantage to the tall, elegant man standing much too close behind her for comfort. The hairs along her spine rose and she bit back a growl. She'd never met Aldo Xenakis in person, but the man was on the news often enough. Lately he'd made a point of baiting Chanku shapeshifters, and Lily Cheval in particular. She recognized him immediately.

Shoving her chair back, she stood while privately enjoying the satisfaction of watching him back up when he realized she met him at eye level. "Ah, Mr. Xenakis. I'd say it's a pleasure, but we both know differently." She smiled, showing a lot of teeth, and held out her hand. He stared at it a moment. Lily didn't waver. Reluctantly, he shook hands.

The frisson of awareness left her wanting to wash her hands. There was something wrong about Xenakis. Something she couldn't place. Oddly enough, it wasn't her Chanku sense that left her skin crawling.

No. It was her magic, something as much a part of her as her Chanku heritage. Her innate power recoiled almost violently at the man's brief touch.

Lily surreptitiously wiped her palm against her slim skirt. She noticed that Jill wasn't the least bit welcoming. "Was there something you wanted, Aldo? Ms. Cheval and I are enjoying a private lunch while we discuss business."

She placed her emphasis firmly on _private._

"No." He stepped back and nodded. "I merely saw a beautiful woman sitting here and took a chance to say hello." He kept his gaze planted firmly on Jill and blatantly ignored Lily.

Lily remained standing, purposefully invading his space until the waitress arrived with their meals. Aldo stepped out of her way and then left without another word. Lily turned, sat, and raised her eyebrow again as she glanced at Jill.

Jill shook her head. The moment the waitress was gone, she took a sip of her wine. "I do not like that man. Something about him . . ."

Lily nodded. "Makes your skin crawl?"

"Exactly. Why? He's handsome enough. Well mannered."

"Rich and powerful." Lily laughed. "I bet he's asked you out."

"He did, and like a fool, I accepted. I couldn't wait for the evening to end."

"Did he make a pass?"

Jill shook her head. "Nothing so obvious, but he makes me very uncomfortable. Just a feeling I wasn't safe with him."

Lily took a bite of her blood rare hamburger and swallowed. "You sure you're not Chanku? You've always got good intuition."

"No. Not a drop. I was tested. Took the nutrients for two weeks. Not even a hint of the need to howl." She shrugged and turned her attention to her salad.

Lily used her French fry as a pointer. "I'm sorry. I think you could have given the guys in my pack a run for their money."

Jill sipped her wine. "I still can. I just have to do it on two legs."

They both laughed, but at the same time, the fact she'd tried the nutrients meant Jill had hoped she was Chanku. Lily was sorry for her, for the fact that her friend had wanted something badly enough to go for it, yet failed.

It was something Jill had to accept she could never have. Lily wondered what that would be like, to want something that was totally impossible, something forever out of reach.

They concentrated on their food for a bit. Then Jill set her fork down. "You know, Lily. I think the world of you, and I really love your folks. You're good people. All of you, your mom and dad especially. They give generously whenever there's a need, and they've done a lot for this city, even though they don't live here. I don't want to see these killings hurt any of you, but if we can't find the killer, I don't know how we're going to keep the anger under control. I worry about your safety."

Lily glanced toward the crowd of reporters waiting at the front door. The questions they'd thrown at her as she walked into the restaurant had been pointed and ugly. In their minds, shapeshifters were committing rapes and murders and she was just as guilty as the ones actually doing the deed.

The sudden jackhammer inside her head had her gasping.

"Lily? Are you all right?"

Jill reached across the table and took her hand.

Lily pressed fingers to her skull. "Just a minute."

Her father's voice filled her mind.

There's been another killing, Lily. A woman's body was found about ten minutes ago in Golden Gate Park, not far from the garden your mother designed many years ago. If you're in a public place, you might want to find somewhere private to finish your lunch with the mayor.

"Shit." Lily took one more quick bite of her burger and tossed back the last of her wine, taking a moment to consider the consequences of her father's words. She focused on Jill, one of the few people aware that the Chanku were telepathic. "My father just contacted me. There's been another murder. The body was found about . . ."

The mayor's cell phone rang. She answered the call, but her gaze was glued to Lily. With a soft curse, she asked a couple of brief questions and then ended the call. "That was the Chief of Police. I'm needed back at City Hall." She stood up. "I'm sorry, Lily. I'll do what I can."

"I know. Thank you. Go ahead. I'll get lunch."

Jill was reaching for her handbag. "That's not . . ."

"Go. Call me later."

"I will." She slipped the strap to her purse over her shoulder and gave Lily a quick hug. "Later. And thank you."

Lily watched her walk away. A pleasant-looking woman in her early fifties, Jill Bradley looked like someone's mom, not like the head of one of the nation's largest, most diverse cities.

She walked as if she didn't have a care in the world, passing through the throng of reporters with a quick smile and a friendly greeting to the ones she knew.

Lily wished she had that kind of grace under fire. She handed her card to the waitress, signed the tab when it came after adding a sizeable tip for that perfectly prepared, almost-raw burger, and walked toward the back of the restaurant.

There was no way she was going to try and get through the reporters. Nope. She'd take the coward's exit, through the kitchen and out the back.

And the first thing she'd do when she got back to the office was call Alex. The last murder had been in Montana, but this latest had happened barely a mile from her office.

She wondered where Sebastian Xenakis had been last night.

* * *

Look for all of Kate Douglas's books!

Paranormal Romances

Published with Kensington

DemonFire

HellFire

"Crystal Dreams" in _Nocturnal_

StarFire

CrystalFire

Erotic Romances

Published with Kensington

Wolf Tales

"Chanku Rising" in _Sexy Beast_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 1.5—Chanku Rising

Wolf Tales II

"Camille's Dawn" in _Wild Nights_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 2.5—Chanku Dawn

Wolf Tales III

"Chanku Fallen" in _Sexy Beast II_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 3.5—Chanku Fallen

Wolf Tales IV

"Chanku Journey" in _Sexy Beast III_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 4.5—Chanku Journey

Wolf Tales V

"Chanku Destiny" in _Sexy Beast IV_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 5.5—Chanku Destiny

Wolf Tales VI

"Chanku Wild" in _Sexy Beast V_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 6.5—Chanku Wild

Wolf Tales VII

"Chanku Honor" in _Sexy Beast VI_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 7.5—Chanku Honor

Wolf Tales VIII

"Chanku Challenge" in _Sexy Beast VII_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 8.5—Chanku Challenge

Wolf Tales 9

"Chanku Spirit" in _Sexy Beast VIII_

and as the ebook

Wolf Tales 9.5—Chanku Spirit

Wolf Tales 10

Wolf Tales 11

Wolf Tales 12

The Dream Catchers Series

"Dream Catcher" in _Nightshift_

Dream Bound

Dream Unchained

The Spirit Wild Series

Dark Wolf

_Dark Moon_ (TBA)

The Demon Lovers Series

Unbalanced

Unbound

Unmasked

Unleashed

Undaunted
About the Author

Kate Douglas is the lead author of Kensington Publishing's Aphrodisia imprint and the author of the popular erotic paranormal romance series _Wolf Tales_ and _Dream Catchers_ , as well as the Zebra series _DemonSlayers_. She is currently writing the next Chanku series, Spirit Wild. The first book, _Dark Wolf_ , is available now.

Kate and her husband of over forty years have two adult children and six grandchildren. They live in the beautiful wine country of Sonoma County, California, in the little town of Healdsburg.

Write to Kate at kate@katedouglas.com. She answers all her email. Connect with her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/katedouglas.authorpage or on Twitter @wolftales.

