 
# Wolf Nights

### Werewolves, kickass heroines, and sizzling romance

## Aimee Easterling

## Anna Lowe

## Becca Andre

## Ellis Leigh

## Steffanie Holmes
Stories copyright © 2019 by their respective authors

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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# Enjoy these 5 shifter tales from bestselling authors

**_Wolf's Bane by Aimee Easterling_ **– In a world where different is dangerous, a fox shifter teams up with her greatest enemy to put food on her sister's plate.

**_Desert Hunt_ by Anna Lowe** – Strictly off limits or destined mates? Rae has a secret she will guard with her life, but she's forced to trust Zack, a coyote shifter from the wrong side of the tracks.

**_The Necromancer's Betrayal_ by Becca Andre** – Elysia doesn't want to be a practicing necromancer. But when she accidentally soul-binds an undead shifter of incredible power, she must embrace all that she is to save him from her brethren.

**Savage Surrender by Ellis Leigh** – Two kidnapped women, one dangerous soldier about to come face-to-face with fate, and a monster set on destroying everything in its path. There's no escaping a Dire Wolf on the hunt...for his mate.

**_Digging the Wolf_ by Steffanie Holmes** – A mystery on an archaeological dig, a broken heroine burying her past, and a hero so hot he'll have you howling for more.

### Contents

Wolf's Bane

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Desert Hunt

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

The Necromancer's Betrayal

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Savage Surrender: A Dire Wolves Mission

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Digging the Wolf

1. Anna

2. Luke

3. Anna

4. Luke

5. Anna

6. Luke

7. Anna

8. Luke

9. Anna

10. Luke

11. Anna

12. Luke

13. Anna

14. Luke

15. Anna

16. Luke

17. Anna

18. Luke

19. Anna

20. Luke

21. Anna

22. Luke

23. Anna

24. Luke

25. Anna

26. Epilogue: Anna

# Wolf's Bane

### Aimee Easterling

# Chapter One

The first time my mother spoke to me from beyond the grave, my little sister was defying gravity.

_"The nail that sticks out gets hammered down,"_ the __ disembodied voice of my dead mother noted inside my head just as a very real Kira called out: "Look, Mai! I'm flying!"

Jolting at Mama's unexpected intrusion, I swiveled to take in my sister's long legs scampering atop the six-foot high-wall at the edge of the cemetery. I usually didn't pay much attention to Kira's affinity for gymnastics in high places. But it wasn't every day a long-dead Japanese woman tapped on the inside of my skull and demanded that I take notice.

So—"Careful!" I called just as Kira's right foot touched down on a section of wall where the weight of the hillside had pushed the cinder blocks out at an angle, ivy and dirt promising to send the unwary tumbling off her stride.

"I know what I'm doing!" my sister replied, tossing her head and rolling her eyes just like she'd done yesterday and the day before and the day before that while walking home from school. All the while human feet pranced through the debris with the agility of a fox, proving that she was right and I was wrong. My concern—and the warning from our dead mother—had been for nothing.

Or so it seemed until my sister raised her chin toward the surprisingly bright March sunshine, closed her eyes to better soak up the warmth...and ran smack dab into the largest male body I'd seen in my life.

A moment earlier, I could have sworn that the cemetery—or at least what I could see of it from the recessed sidewalk—was entirely devoid of life. But now my little sister's shoulders were caught in the grip of hands that could oh-so-easily slide upward to settle around her unprotected neck. Veins stood out from the assailant's rippling muscles. And I didn't need to lift my nose to the breeze to understand what had taken place.

Kira had been waylaid by our worst possible enemy—an alpha male werewolf.

For half a second, they wobbled there together atop tilting chunks of concrete. One girl who hid a secret punishable by death. And one predator who was willing and able to perform said execution.

Beneath them, I clenched my fist around the strobing ball of light shielded by the fabric of my pants pocket while at the same time assessing possible approaches. The trouble was, while I _could_ jump directly onto the wall from my current location, doing so would be royally stupid within view of an alpha werewolf. But ascending in a human manner would mean running halfway down the block to the gateway Kira had so agilely leapt across...while leaving my sister unprotected in the interim.

So I stood for one endless second mimicking a stranded fish, mouth gaping and metaphorical fins flapping while I tried to decide which approach was least likely to get my sister killed. Meanwhile, beneath my clothes, the incorporeal light that held half my soul oozed out of my pocket, slid around my hip, and slowed at last in the empty scabbard strapped to my back. There the ice-cold tendrils of my star ball lengthened and solidified into my favorite weapon—a rapier-thin sword, just waiting to be drawn and wielded against the unwary.

The entire magical manipulation—plus associated brain freeze—had taken only a second, one blink of the eye during which my sister's assailant didn't appear to notice he had any audience other than one twelve-year-old child. His slender fingers had neither loosened nor tightened, and he spoke now in a voice so deep it was dangerous. "Someone's hunting innocents in this city. You shouldn't be out here alone."

Half of my brain occupied itself assessing that assertion. Was this werewolf—the most hazardous being we could possibly run up against—honestly warning my kid sister to steer clear of other predators? Or was that a threat half hidden beneath the throaty timbre of his overtly protective words?

But most of my attention remained focused on planning out my subsequent actions. I couldn't toss the sword to Kira and risk her being cut on an edged weapon, not when the twelve-year-old still used training blades in the school gymnasium where I taught. And was it even a good idea to provide a weapon in the first place when anything I threw upwards could just as easily end up in the lightning-quick hands of an overpowering alpha?

While other possibilities flicked through my brain with the force of strobe lights, Kira answered back as airily as if she and this werewolf were chance-met friends chatting during a stroll through the park. "Oh, I'm not alone," she said blithely. "I've got Mai."

"Your what?"

"No, not 'my.' _Mai._ "

Which is when I decided that running up the three-inch-wide staircase created by the cracking wall was _almost_ easy enough to appear human. After all, the werewolf's fingers remained poised inches away from my sister's jugular. Didn't Kira realize that a being so powerful inevitably thought anything he could hold onto was his to keep?

So, relinquishing all concern about appearing human, I took the first two steps up the side of the wall in one lunging leap. Then I froze as the male's chin tilted down toward me.

His eyes were windows I was unprepared to gaze into. Piercing and assessing and, at the same time, as deep and full of mystery as the bottom of a well. He quirked arching eyebrows, the faintest hints of crows' feet appearing at his temples...only to fade as he took in the rapier I'd unconsciously extended to prod against his jeans-clad calf.

"Ah, I see," the male answered. "You _are_ quite admirably protected. My mistake."

Then, without so much as nudging the sharpened steel away from his flesh, the werewolf released my sister's shoulders and offered me a perfunctory half-bow. He was as lithe as a swordsman, his body as perfectly proportioned as a statue hailing from ancient Greece.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mai." And to my sister—"Mind your balance, child." With that parting shot, the werewolf slid back out of my sight line, disappearing into the cemetery as quickly as he'd materialized in the first place.

And me? I was left with a hint of sweetness on my lips that reminded me of near-forgotten teenage kisses. Swiping one hand across my mouth to remove the tell-tale flavor, I jerked my chin at my sister. "We need to get you home."

After all, my second job was calling. Cage fights wait for no woman.

# Chapter Two

I wouldn't dream of heading into battle without my black leather jacket and knee-high boots, but there was more to this gig than fighting. So I showed up at the Arena an hour later in a baby-pink blouse, ruffled neckline drooping low enough to show off my nearly nonexistent boobs. I tied up my hair in two above-the-ear pigtails. And I splashed enough smoky blue and silver eye shadow on either side of my nose to accentuate the slant of my half-Japanese eyes.

The effect wasn't me...but I'd do a lot to put food on the table for my sister. In this case, unfortunately, a lot wasn't quite enough.

"...did you hear about the hooker they found dead down by the river last week..."

"...new bar with two-for-one appetizers..."

"...wouldn't bet against Mai if you paid me to..."

The news of the day swirled around me in a cloud of horrors, excitement, and—unfortunately—overwhelming appreciation for my prowess. As if to prove the last point, a meaty hand came down on my shoulder as a random audience member congratulated me on my most recent win. "Nice job against those bozos," he boomed.

The male in question was a head and shoulders taller than my five-feet-zero frame, and he likely could have lifted me off the ground with one arm tied behind his back. Still, his posture radiated respect for more than the length of my rapier...which _should_ have filled me with much-deserved pride.

Unfortunately, my boss had been using the unlikely disconnect between my appearance and my skill level to her financial advantage for nearly a decade. It was a lucrative proposition—toss the tiny street girl out against a gang of heavy hitters, bet on the underdog, and watch the cash roll in. Since my ten percent of the take paid the rent, having members of the audience betting _for_ me rather than against me could very well turn into a financial disaster for both Ma and myself.

_Drat and blast!_ What did it take to be underestimated in this town?

Before I could decide which evasive action to take, though, I glanced toward the other side of the stadium where my opponents usually held court. Best to see what kind of warrior Ma Scrubbs had dug up before I decided between the damsel-in-distress routine and the fake-wound walk....

New fighters were always easy to pick out due to the contestants' banners slung across their chests. And I was ready for any number of them. After all, I'd faced down five opponents just last month, forgetting myself and knocking the quintet down like dominoes with a few short swipes of my sword.

But during that ill-matched contest, I hadn't been forced to hide my abilities. Had been facing humans only, without a single werewolf in sight.

Now, as I eyed one tall male and one erect-ruffed four-legger, I not only recognized the abilities of the shifters before me, I also knew immediately who they were. The man standing on two legs possessed uncannily familiar features for all that I'd never set eyes on his face before. And no wonder when he smelled identical to the wolf panting by his side, both boasting the same deep musk that lingered on my tongue despite every effort to wash their granite and ozone signature out of my brain.

No, these opponents weren't strangers. Or at least the wolf wasn't. Instead, this was the self-same shifter who had accosted my sister on the cemetery wall earlier in the afternoon.

Meanwhile, the two-legged shifter's words were just barely audible with the help of my own supernaturally assisted hearing. "Of course this is a good idea," the male murmured on the other side of the chattering crowd. His voice was gritty with rebellion, which struck me as strange since I could smell his dominance from fifty feet distant. "You know the evidence leads here."

Evidence? Were these werewolves hunting something? Could they possibly be seeking _me_?

Whether that conclusion was grounded in reality or in pure paranoia, I'd risk too much by fighting fellow shifters unaware of my closely held secret. So I turned on my heel and stalked off in the opposite direction.

It was time to hold a serious conversation with my boss.

"You're late."

Ma Scrubbs glowered at me across a table littered with dollar bills and scraps of hastily scrawled wagers. To the uninitiated, the mess looked like, well, a _mess._ But my second-shift supervisor memorized each offering, constantly recalculated the odds, and ensured the finances fell forever in her favor.

Not so difficult when she had a fighter like me in her back pocket.

Which, tonight, she most definitely did _not_. "I'm not doing it, Ma," I responded, slamming the door of my employer's office to block out the crowd so I could transition from Disney princess into hardened warrior and feel like myself once again. Only after stuffing both arms into the leather jacket waiting for me on the back of the door then buttoning the armor up to my chin did my heart calm sufficiently for me to fall into the empty seat waiting on the other side of Ma's desk.

"Cool it with the tantrums, girlie. And I'm not your mother. So don't call me 'Ma.'" As she spoke, the older woman's brows scrunched together into a glower that I was far too familiar with. Because, no, Ma Scrubbs wasn't my mother. But she'd let me play in her office dozens of times while my father fought, had offered me his vacated spot when I struggled to keep my tiny family afloat after being orphaned at age eighteen, and was the closest thing to a parental figure I had left.

So I obeyed her command and elaborated as best I could without mentioning supernatural elements that Ma Scrubbs may or may not have picked up on by now. "I can't win against those two," I explained. "It's just not possible. Pick someone else for the first fight then I'll go in for round two."

Ma Scrubbs considered me from the far side of the desktop, her head barely visible above the cluttered surface. If I was small, she was wizened, face so wrinkled it was impossible to guess what the seventy-year-old might have looked like when she was young. After a moment of consideration, she shrugged, pulling a battered notebook out of one pocket. "Go home then," she told me. "I'll call the Raven sisters in to fight."

"No!" The word burst from my lips before I could soften the rejection. "They're children! They'll be slaughtered!"

"Not against those two. Gunner and Ransom are boy scouts. First blood will be a nick on the cheek. Won't even scar. And next week, ticket sales will skyrocket out of sight."

So she _was_ aware of the existence of werewolves. No human would refer to a four-legged shifter in the same breath as his two-legged companion unless she fully understood the former's ability to change forms.

Still, I had no time to further analyze that fact because Ma Scrubbs wasn't even looking at me any longer. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and began thumbing through her address book, stopping only when the faces of Jessie and Charlie Raven popped into view. The twins were sweet young things who I'd mentored for a couple of summers. Despite my best efforts, though, the duo still thought fencing was a sport in which you didn't hit below the belt or above the neck. They had no concept werewolves existed and they were barely older than my kid sister. If I didn't allow Kira to sit in the Arena's audience, I certainly wasn't going to be responsible for Jessie and Charlie ending up within the Arena's cage.

So even though I knew I was being played, I reached out and blocked the phone's surface with my hand. "Okay, you win," I answered. Took a deep breath, considered the angles. I couldn't use my supernatural speed to its full advantage against a pair of werewolves, but there had to be a way to turn my opponents' cockiness against them.

If there was, Ma Scrubbs surely would have thought of it. "And you clearly have a plan," I continued. "So let's hear it."

"It's simple," my boss answered, her eyes twinkling with old-lady mirth. "You've been winning, winning, always winning. Nobody's gonna bet against you. So tonight, you'll reset the clock. Tonight...you'll lose."

# Chapter Three

Losing, unfortunately, wasn't as easy as I'd expected. Oh, sure, when the cage door clanged shut, leaving me trapped within a small chain-link enclosure with two very large werewolves, the shiver running down my spine suggested the hard part would be merely staying alive. But my opponents—for all that they appeared to be brothers—combined to create the worst team imaginable.

Ransom—the human-form brother and the only one the announcer had introduced by name—turned out to be a run-of-the-mill opponent. He was fast and aggressive and out for my blood.

His brother, on the other hand, was not.

"Get out of my way!" Ransom muttered between gritted teeth the third time Gunner tangled himself between his sibling's legs and made it nearly impossible for the human sibling to dodge my blows...let alone get in one of his own. I would have laughed out loud if my goal hadn't been to lose the match subtly enough so the audience wouldn't wring my neck afterwards. As it was, my cheeks heated with frustration and I could almost feel next month's rent money slipping out of my grasp.

Meanwhile, the crowd was no more pleased than I was at my opponents' inability to put up a passable show. "Boo!" howled one angry bystander while fingers rattled the cage inches from my head. A beer bottle cleared the fence and shattered onto the mat a yard away from my booted feet, the glass shards turning into makeshift blades my opponents could pick up at any moment and use against my flesh.

In the midst of all this mayhem, I needed to not only survive but also to lose without appearing to throw over the fight. Time to implement my favorite weapon—my tongue.

"Ma Scrubbs told me you two were boy scouts," I said conversationally even as I danced through a series of warm-up exercises that appeared far more impressive than they really were. Had to keep the crowd happy while gearing up for the grand finale. "I'm thinking you look more like Brownies, though. Or maybe Daisies. Did you even earn enough merit badges to sell Girl Scout cookies yet?"

In response, Ransom growled between human teeth and took a single step forward, but I could have sworn Gunner was amused rather than provoked by my taunts. Whatever the reason, the latter's lupine jaws gaped open, his tongue lolling off to one side even as he blocked his brother as gracefully as if the two were dancing a minuet.

You-fight-like-a-girl jabs clearly weren't going to move this match along to the point where the audience would go home happy. So I assessed the way the two males worked in effort-filled non-harmony. Guessed reasons why one gamecock brother might choose to engage in battle while the other would undermine Ransom's authority at every turn...while still insisting upon guarding his sibling's back.

Then I opened my mouth and launched a second attack. "New alpha can't handle his own fights, can he?" I guessed, piecing together whispers I'd recently heard emerging from the few shifters I dared to speak with. "Just another dumb jock inheriting shoes too big for his puny feet. You know what they say about a guy with small feet...."

And just like that, the brothers glanced at each other in perfect harmony. Silent words streaked between them while the scents of fur and electricity filled the air.

At last, I'd gotten under their skins.

_How like wolves to get riled up over issues of heredity...and shoe size._ I let a smile crinkle my cheeks for a split second, but then it was time for battle.

Because both brothers were leaping toward me in synchronized splendor now. And above our heads, a surge of approval rolled out over the crowd.

For long seconds, my world narrowed down to the simplicity of attack and parry. I hooked the hilt of my sword around one of Ransom's knives and pulled it out of his grip as easily as I disarmed raw beginners in my day job. But with Gunner circling slyly toward my blind spot, I was soon forced onto the defensive, spinning on my back foot and stabbing wildly to force the wolf into a retreat.

_Whoosh._ My sword cut deeper toward my lupine opponent than I'd intended, and I held my breath as hairs sprayed out around us both. If I'd misjudged my reach and pricked Gunner's skin, the match would be over before it really started...and not in a way that would please my picky boss.

_Rent_ , I reminded myself as I scrambled backwards, glad there was no blood welling up where my blade had recently made contact with the four-legged werewolf. _Groceries. Bus money. More magic-trick paraphernalia for Kira's birthday next week. Tuition at her school in the nice part of town...._

Gradually, the roar of the crowd receded into the background and calm descended upon me just as it did every day during training. I grabbed the veil of control Dad had taught me to wield two decades earlier, slowed my attacks and parries until they matched my gasping breaths. _There._ The outer world meant nothing. Now I could be certain my blade would fly eternally true.

"I know what you are."

And to my eternal embarrassment, I stumbled, Ransom's words cutting through my hard-earned concentration far more admirably than my earlier verbal parry had interrupted his. The pack leader's knowledge of my identity was impossible. Because if werewolves were aware of my family's secret, their leader wouldn't be fighting me in a cage match. The whole pack would instead descend upon Kira and me as a unit, intent upon tearing out both of our throats.

As I tried to make sense of the nonsensical, Ransom took advantage of my turmoil. Swiping his sole remaining knife beneath my armpit, he opened up a nick in the jacket that had protected me year after year. And even though the cut didn't reach all the way to my skin, I was so shaken by the damage that I took a step backward...

...and promptly stumbled over Gunner, who'd poised himself in just the right spot to take advantage of my lapse. I teetered, nearly falling. Then I decided not to fight the imminent collapse. Instead, I allowed the accidental momentum to propel me sideways as I slashed my sword in a Z pattern in front of the unruly wolf's nose.

The sword-waving warning gave me breathing room to come up behind the two-legger's unguarded back. And, okay, so maybe I called upon a little supernatural speed to get me there. Maybe I bent my sword slightly away from its target so the metal didn't come in contact with game-ending flesh. But, in the midst of combat, who would either know or care?

The sharp tang of success cleared my head the way it always did. And I realized as I set up the defeat I so badly needed that my opponent was merely accusing me of being an unaffiliated werewolf...not of something considerably worse. After all, I smelled as much like fur as the brothers with whom I shared the stage at the moment. And more than a century since our supposed eradication, most shifters probably didn't believe beings like myself and my sister continued to exist.

So I ran with it. "Yep, you're right. I'm outpack. That means I don't have to kowtow to the new alpha who thinks his farts don't stink," I bantered, knowing that my voice would prompt Ransom's body to swivel just the way I wanted it to. Knowing that his knife would spin through the air at precisely the same level as the hand I'd raised in supposed self-defense. The sharp blade would cut through the flesh of my palm deeper than the scratch Ma Scrubbs had promised these boy scouts would dole out in victory, but the searing pain was more than worth the result.

Because as red blood dripped toward the ground between us, the audience erupted into jubilation. They'd lost their hard-earned money on the match, but they'd enjoyed every minute of the tussle that had come before this bitter end. The crowd would be even larger next week...and in the meantime I'd take home a rather hefty ten percent for my surprise upset.

"Good fight," Ransom offered, holding out a hand to shake without any arrogance in his posture at all. He really was a boy scout. As gentlemanly in his win as he would have been after a loss.

"Good fight," I agreed, swapping the sword over to my bloody left hand so I could return the hand clasp. Only then did I turn toward Gunner and shiver as something darkly suspicious flickered behind sienna lupine eyes.

Maybe my lapses hadn't been quite as overlookable as I'd thought in the heat of the moment. Now, I decided, would be a good time to beat a hasty retreat.

# Chapter Four

I lost myself in the crowd before Gunner could shift and find me. Nodded at a bouncer then slipped through a heavy fire door to enter the private hallway that led toward the quiet of my personal changing room. I was ready for thirty minutes of down time before returning home to my sleeping sister. Thirty minutes to relax while Ma Scrubbs counted dollars and divvied up my share of the take.

Unfortunately, there was a werewolf on the couch when I thrust the door open. And not just any werewolf, but the one who thought he ran the city I lived within.

"My dear," Jackal greeted me, remaining recumbent for one long moment before unfolding long limbs and springing gracefully to his feet. He wore a half-unbuttoned silk shirt that showed off hardened muscles and his hair curled dashingly over both ears. Despite the eye candy, though, my attention remained firmly focused upon the promised respite of the couch behind his back.

There should have been overtures to live through before I could achieve my destination, but lack of nearby underlings put a kibosh on our customary embrace. Instead, Jackal merely raised his eyebrows and waited until I'd sunk into the leathery cushions before taking the opposite end of the sofa and getting straight to the point.

"Two Atwoods in my city." In front of the drifters who made up his not-quite-pack, Jackal would have donned a mask of alpha invulnerability. But the understanding between the two of us was sufficient to prevent him from mincing words. As a result, his observation came out as less of an observation and more of a pout.

I shrugged, wishing for one split second that Jackal really was my significant other. The pretense propped up Jackal's alpha tendencies in public and protected me and my sister when we walked through the city alone. A mutually beneficial arrangement...but one that, unfortunately, left me without anyone to rub my weary feet.

Perhaps that's why my subsequent words came out harsher than I'd intended. "In _their_ city," I countered. "The pack leaders might not have been around much lately, but technically it's Atwood land for another hundred miles south."

Which was entirely true. But apparently I'd gone a step too far in reminding Jackal that he was poaching on a more established clan's territory while lacking sufficient manpower to back up his claim.

" _I'm_ the one who keeps this city stable. _I'm_ the one who keeps you safe," my companion bit out, a droplet of spittle striking my jacket while his fist came down to pound the leather cushion an inch from my thigh.

Yep, I should have stopped while I was ahead. Accepting my own misstep, I attempted to fix the faux pas with a little male ego-stroking. "You're right," I agreed. "But the brothers are just passing through. They're probably scouting the edges of clan territory, getting their bearings. After all, their father just recently died."

I expected Jackal to relax back onto the cushions, to accept what he couldn't change. But instead, something dark and menacing rose within his eyes, and his muscles tensed with lupine alertness when next he spoke.

"Well, they'd better keep moving," he told me. "Because this city and everything in it is _mine_."

"Be careful out there," Ma Scrubbs warned as she led me to the back door half an hour later. The old woman had been alerting me about the city's hidden dangers ever since I'd started trailing along behind my father two decades earlier. But something in my employer's tone promised a rapier might not be enough to keep my skin intact tonight.

Still, I had a hard time taking the threat seriously when my pockets were full of cash and all three werewolves I'd run into this evening were long gone through the opposite entrance. So I offered a jaunty salute and strode away into the darkness, already counting the moments until I could fall into my warm bed. Just one last stop at the corner store for bread and milk to ensure Kira's cheery disposition, then I could rest easy in the knowledge that I'd raked in sufficient supplemental income to ensure our survival for another week at least....

Or so I thought for the few minutes it took to exit the Arena's alley and turn onto the wide but quiet avenue that formed the main artery of this part of town. Only after enough time had passed that Ma Scrubbs would have removed her hearing aids and descended into her basement apartment did a thread of sound cut through my thoughts of hearth and home.

And at first, I thought the auditory intrusion was merely a run-of-the-mill wolf whistle. But I couldn't make out a single human shape lingering in the shadowed doorsteps I was passing. And this sound was less a whistle and more a thread of barely discernible melody that sent a trickle of prey-like awareness skittering up my spine.

As much as I strained, though, I couldn't make sense of the disjointed notes. The night musician was quite a distance behind me, I estimated. Perhaps a block or two east as well....

But then the tones coalesced into a strangely familiar lullaby, the tune popping to life as if emerging from a dully remembered childhood. And even though my curiosity was piqued by the vague memory, my gut told me the sound represented danger rather than intrigue. So I sped up my footsteps, wishing I hadn't already shrunken my magical star ball away from its sword shape and down into its easy-to-carry energetic form. Now would be a good time to be holding onto a blade....

Even another human on the streets would have been appreciated at the present moment. Anything to jolt away the adrenaline-rush of terror that was flooding my body for no discernible reason. Was I really about to break into a sprint to escape from a _song_?

Unfortunately, the streets on every side of me were dark and empty. And the whistle continued at exactly the same volume even as I sped up my pace, as if my follower had increased his own footsteps in synchrony rather than falling behind as I would have hoped.

Yes, the tune's volume remained steady...but its tempo gradually lessened until both my star ball and my feet were pulsing in sympathy. Like Kira, I enjoyed moving quickly and silently. But now my instinctive press for speed felt akin to slogging through a sea of molasses. Meanwhile, my boots thudded against the pavement with every descending step.

_What's wrong with me?_ Stifling a shiver, I glanced backwards, half expecting a fairy-tale monster to be following in my wake....

But my gaze met with nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual potholed pavement, one streetlight vainly attempting to illuminate an entire block. Doors were locked, windows were grimed over, and a single rat was the only living being in sight.

There _was_ light ahead of me though. The 7-Eleven came into view like an oasis in a desert, the brightest patch of safety around.

And sure, the establishment possessed grease-stained windows along with an air of declining profitability. But I knew from experience that the store also boasted a rifle-toting clerk and a back door that would spit me out into an untraveled alley. If necessary, the clerk would cover my back sufficiently so I could use my hidden abilities in safety, then I could slink home with my tail quite literally between my legs.

Or maybe I'd get lucky and my stalker would turn out to be a cheerful passerby who whistled his way past the plate-glass windows without so much as a glance in my direction. Kira could enjoy milk on her morning cereal with toast as a chaser, and all would be right in our little world.

Still, I flung open the 7-Eleven door with my head turned in search of my pursuer...and had no warning as I ran smack dab into a far too familiar chest.

# Chapter Five

"You and your sister don't look where you're going very often, do you?"

Gunner's fingers burned against my wrist as he restrained me from...what? Pulling a sword that didn't currently exist? Punching him in the eye or kneeing his balls in an effort to relax his grip?

Unfortunately, the tremor racing down my spine couldn't be entirely attributed to the grasp of a powerful opponent. And perhaps that's why my rebuttal came out with so much bite. "Oh, yes. The expert on sibling relations. Did you show your big brother to his room, sedate him with sleeping pills, then sneak out for a beer? Is that why you dared to leave his presence when the poor little pack leader might very well be stubbing his toe at this very instant?"

Only the slight twitch of Gunner's left eyebrow proved that my verbal attack had struck home. But he _did_ release my wrists and take one small step backwards, the musk of predatory alpha thinning until I was finally able to think...

...and to remember that I had a friend here in the convenience store. Over the werewolf's shoulder, I caught the eye of a clerk I'd gone to high school with and shook my head briefly in response to his raised eyebrows. No, I didn't need help. Not against one annoying shifter whose worst fault was a tendency to show up in the wrong place at the wrong moment.

"A beer," Gunner answered, picking the least incendiary part of my tirade to fixate upon. "Good idea. How about I buy you a bottle and we can talk about why you purposefully lost tonight's match?"

His words followed me more closely than the whistled melody had as I slid away from his tantalizing body heat and stalked toward colder quarry. Bread—not the kind Kira liked the best but the cheaper sort she would still smile upon. Life was all about compromise and tonight's Arena windfall wouldn't last long if I fed her tween appetite with name-brand morsels.

"I didn't lose on purpose," I lied vaguely, trying to decide whether my kid sister was still on a 1% kick or whether we could return to the whole milk we'd both enjoyed until the previous autumn. Unfortunately, the girls in her grade were brutal on body fat, and Kira embraced their barbed comments even though our kind required far more calories than the average couch-potato twelve-year-old.

_Better safe than sorry,_ I decided with a grimace. Plucking out a gallon of low-fat, I froze as Gunner's warm breath counteracted the cold emanating from the refrigerated case.

"Or we could change the subject," the werewolf murmured, voice so low the clerk had no chance of overhearing. "My brother and I are hunting something very specific. My gut says you're the key to finding it. We'd pay very well if you helped us track it down."

_I_ was the key to finding whatever these brothers were looking for here in a city their pack had ignored for several decades? A shiver far less enticing than the ones that had been impacting me previously ran down my spine. Slowly, unwillingly, I turned to meet Gunner's gaze. "What are you looking for?"

"Something," the werewolf answered unhelpfully before allowing silence to descend between the two of us. His face was as expressionless as a still pool of water, but I could smell his amusement that I'd risen to the bait.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to focus on lunch meat. Perhaps if I splurged on a hunk of salami my kid sister's eyes would light up at the treat like the noon-day sun....

But despite my best impulses to the contrary, Gunner's hook lodged itself in my gills and pulled me relentlessly out of the safely deep waters. What were these werewolves looking for? Did it have anything to do with Kira and my kind?

My inherent curiosity sent me leaning forward as I pondered, heart rate elevated more than it had been by my recent near miss. Still, I opened my mouth to give the smart answer, the correct answer. Because I shouldn't spend any more time than necessary around the new pack leader's brother. Kira and I couldn't afford to risk our skins just to enjoy salami on a weekly rather than a yearly basis...or to douse inquisitiveness that was so painfully inflamed.

But before I could come up with an appropriately scathing comment, a trickle of melody slid beneath the crack in the door. The same strangely familiar tune I'd heard while walking down the street....

And in response I paled, dropping Kira's bread on top of a display of candy bars as my fingers abruptly lost their hold on the potential purchase. My instinct had been right and my pursuer hadn't given up. Which presented an even worse situation than I'd previously been in. Because I was now standing beside an eagle-eyed werewolf, unable to use my inherent abilities to gnaw my way out of the trap before it could close around my leg.

I bit my lip as I began lowering the jug of milk to the floor in instinctive disburdenment. But the liquid would rot there if the clerk didn't notice in time to slide the jug back into the case. And upcoming evasive maneuvers would be less obvious if I hung onto one potential purchase at least.

So I clutched the cold handle, fingers digging into plastic as I spoke to the werewolf who'd delayed me—purposefully? accidentally?—long enough for the whistler to catch up. "Hold that thought," I told him, offering Kira's full-blast-sunshine smile and hoping the expression was as heart-stopping on me as it was on her. After all, I needed every advantage I could muster if I intended to slide out the 7-Eleven's window right under a werewolf's nose.

Then, without further explanation, I padded into the filthy bathroom, twirled the lock to solidify the barrier...and hoisted myself plus my purloined jug of milk through the tiny opening set too high in the wall for an average human to clamber in or out.

"I'll pay you back tomorrow," I whispered into the night air, knowing the clerk would understand the delay in cash flow. Still, the debt squeezed at my star ball, dragging at my footsteps as I beat a hasty retreat.

# Chapter Six

"Oof. Get off me!" I woke to fur in my face along with my sister's smug grin peering through the small gap between covers and red tail fluff.

Oh, and did I mention Kira was in fox form? I could feel the year's seventh tardy slip falling into my hands already.

"You need to shift and shower and eat and...did you finish your homework last night while I was fighting?"

The fox who was my sister leapt off my pillow a millisecond before my fingers would have closed around her snow-white belly. Soft feet landed on top of the tiny dorm-style refrigerator three feet away from my pull-out sofa-bed, and I decided to take that as a yes to the breakfast and a no to the shifting, showering, and homework. At least we'd get the bare necessities done today.

"Kira, I'm serious," I grumbled, even as I pulled out the wide cereal bowl that was easy for a snout to scoop food out of. Half a box of off-brand cheerios, a healthy glug of last night's stolen milk, and my sister was at least eating her breakfast...even if she was still perched on top of the fridge while doing so.

Of course, Kira was also a _fox_ , so nothing came easily. Three bites later, my young charge lost interest in food and hummed a request instead, drawing our mother's star ball toward us out of the only bedroom our apartment boasted. The golden glow was the reason my sister was able to shift before coming of age, but it was also the last remnant of our dead mother's spirit. So I didn't argue as Kira leapt away from her half-finished meal and used the solidified magic as a platform, allowing her to dance across the room without touching the ground. Instead, I smiled fondly...then froze as I remembered the jolt of understanding that had run through my head as I succumbed to slumber the night before.

The whistle in the dark alley hadn't been just an eerily unfamiliar melody. Instead, it had matched the tinny sound made by our mother's nearly forgotten music box. Or so I thought. I'd need to rustle up long-packed-away possessions to be sure....

"I'm serious about that shower, Kira," I told my sister absently, turning away as my own star ball joined the circus without any explicit request to do so on my part. "And you know you have a test today in..." I racked my brain, gave up "...in _something._ So, please, at least bring the relevant book to school."

Kira _hadn't_ done her homework and _had_ forgotten her test—I could see the guilt in her beady eyes. But she was a fox who was snatching bites of a filling breakfast in between her capers, so she'd land—both literally and metaphorically—on her feet.

Confident that my sister was taken care of, I took the five steps to her bedroom in a rush. Clothes covered every available surface and it took longer than it should have to pick my way through to the rather empty closet. I'd need to find an hour this afternoon to tidy up just in case Social Services dropped by for a surprise inspection....

For now, though, I was more interested in the boxes on the closet's top shelf than in the clothes all over the floor. It had been so long since I'd been up there that dust bunnies gave even Kira's slovenly ways a run for their money.

And yet...the box I was looking for was swept as smooth as if it held a daily necessity. And when I pulled down the battered cardboard container, the item in my hands wasn't nearly as heavy as it should have been.

Inside, a few photos and childhood drawings fluttered against my fumbling fingers. But the music box, the jewelry, Mama's cherished possessions—every single one of them was gone without a trace.

"I'm sorry," Kira whispered as her class poured into the gym for third-period PE. She'd clearly been working on this apology for the entirety of her first two classes, because the rest of it came out in a rush. "I should have talked to you first. But selling Mama's belongings was the only way I could think of to pay the water and electric bills. And it wasn't as if we were _using_ any of that stuff."

"It's okay," I told my sister, even though it really wasn't. But I was disappointed in myself more than in Kira. Disappointed that my thirteen-years-younger sister had taken household expenses upon herself without me noticing...and, I'll admit it, disappointed that I'd never see our dead mother's possessions again. Just because Dad—and then I—had hidden the items away in a dusty box while avoiding all mention of our shadowed heritage didn't mean I was willing to sell the items on Ebay.

Still, my day brightened a little when Kira accepted my words at face value. She shot me a sunny smile before bouncing over to the opposite side of the room where three girls waited. And even though they were entirely human and dressed far better than I'd ever managed to deck out my ward, they still welcomed her into their midst with cheery greetings and sparkling eyes.

"Wanna see a magic trick?" my sister asked as she joined them, pulling out three scarves and a deck of cards before her companions could reply. And I'll admit it—I let the pre-class bustle linger longer than usual so Kira could enjoy her moment in the limelight. Gave everyone three long minutes to gab and gossip and make objects disappear.

But, finally, I could drag my heels no longer. "Line up in two rows. We're going to start with drills parrying four and six," I bellowed in a voice guaranteed to garner even argumentative sixth graders' attention.

The girls obeyed as sluggishly as Kira had caved to the necessity of her morning shower. But, eventually, clanging practice swords proved that nineteen over-indulged princesses—and my orphaned sister—would go to math class with hearts racing and endorphin levels elevated.

Which should have been good enough. But my skin itched and my eyes kept being drawn to the three students in front of and beside my kid sister. So I drifted closer to hear what kind of muttered secrets were being exchanged along with sword blows.

"Keep the tip of your blade pointed at your opponent's chest while you parry," I murmured to a rather over-excited redhead as I worked my way closer to the girls in question. "Hand parallel to the floor," I corrected another student, angling toward the girls upon whom the entirety of my attention now rested.

And then I could hear their chatter above the din...at which point I finally realized that Kira had been lying when she told me everything was just peachy at school. "Maybe you can use your _magic tricks_ to get Jared's attention," Kira's current opponent sneered, eyeballing my sister's body in a way that made the shorter girl's cheeks flush crimson.

"Or maybe you could make _yourself_ disappear. That'd be a good one." The girl on Kira's right was barely moving her sword while she indulged in a verbal offensive of her own.

"I don't know why they let gooks into our school," the third student interjected contemplatively. "Asian kids are supposed to be smart, but we can all tell from Kira's uniform that she's a scholarship student. She can't even pay her own way."

At which point, I stopped even pretending to pay attention to the rest of the class. Started sprinting toward my sister...even though I knew any intervention would come far too late.

Because Kira might have been abjectly apologetic at the beginning of class, but all foxes have a temper and Kira was no exception. Unlike me, however, she tended to save words for later and to dive straight into the physical when cornered and outmatched.

So I wasn't surprised when my nose caught the faintest hint of fur as Kira unleashed a tiny fraction of the vulpine agility she'd been holding back earlier in the session. I wasn't surprised when she knocked off each girl's face mask with a quick dip and jerk of her blunt-tipped sword. One, two, three helmets clanged onto the floor then one, two, three sets of manicured fingertips rose to feminine throats in unintentional unison.

Behind me, air pushed against my back as someone opened the door leading to the hallway. But I ignored whoever was coming or going, channeling all of my attention upon my sister as I turned my sprint into something a little faster. Because I'd learned the hard way that an angry Kira was unable to think through the consequences of her actions. And, like the rest of her family, my kid sister was remarkably good with a sword.

Sure enough, before I could interpose myself between the four battling students, my sister's practice blade rose for a fourth time. Thankfully, the swords I'd handed out to these children boasted unsharpened edges and a soft rubber ball protecting each tip. Still, any hunk of metal can do real damage if wielded by a pro.

Kira was well on her way to becoming such an expert.

" _Don't_!" I demanded, sending one curt word where my feet had failed to carry me.

But my sister's lashes didn't even flicker in response to my order. Instead, she slapped those bitchy girls with the flat of her blade so fast the first wasn't even crying before the third was being similarly assaulted. Within seconds, three red welts stood out against perfectly moisturized skin...then the floodgates opened up.

"I...I...I...." the leader of the posse stuttered, spinning to take in her damaged face in the mirror that covered one entire wall. "My face is ruuuiiiinnned!" another girl wailed. For her part, the third student was too overwhelmed to even emote verbally. Instead, she collapsed into a silent heap, cradling her injured cheek in both hands.

"Maybe you should grow up and shut up," Kira whispered in a voice blazing with passion. "Maybe you shouldn't talk about things you don't understand."

Meanwhile, behind me, an equally familiar tone cut through the room's hushed silence. "Mai, Kira, I'll see you both in my office immediately," the headmistress informed us. "Injured parties report to the nurse's station. And the rest of you, it's time to go to math."

# Chapter Seven

"I've been concerned for some time about the levels of violence in your classes," Ms. Underhill informed me as I sank into one of the two seats in front of her desk. The armchairs were obscenely comfortable...but they were also considerably lower to the floor than average. Given my already short stature, I felt like a child peering up at an adult from my present vantage point, precisely the effect the headmistress was going for.

"Fencing isn't about violence," Kira countered from the perch she'd taken on the edge of her seat, her chin level with the desk rather than hidden beneath it like mine was. "It's about control and restraint and..."

I could repeat our father's words just as glibly as my sister was currently doing, but something told me Ms. Underhill wasn't going to be impressed by the well-rehearsed refrain. Not when Kira had recently used her so-called control and restraint to mark the daughters of three major donors to the academy.

"We apologize," I said instead. "Kira was out of line and I should have been able to stop her." I swallowed, knowing the school had a zero-tolerance policy toward physical aggression. This wasn't my sister's first offense, so she would definitely be suspended. The question was—for how long? And when the suspension was over, would she be allowed to return to class?

As if sensing my distress, Kira rushed in to back me up as she always did. "Yes, I'm _so_ sorry Ms. Underhill. I take complete responsibility for my actions. I'll apologize to Missy and Callie and Veronica too. I swear, nothing like this will _ever_ happen again."

Her face was so open and candid, her tone so gushing. And the effect would have been believable too...if all three of us hadn't remembered the other incidents in vivid technicolor.

There was that time in the cafeteria when my sister had grown bored and started a food fight so severe the entire place had to be shut down for the rest of the afternoon for cleanup. The time she'd gotten tossed out of class after correcting her Latin teacher's pronunciation then reciting a very bawdy ballad in a language only she and he understood. And how could we forget the way my tiny sister had beaten up three over-sized football players who were trying to take advantage of a slip of a girl behind the bleachers?

Kira's heart was in the right place...but sometimes her brain didn't come along for the ride.

So my relief was palpable when the faintest hint of a smile pulled up the corners of Ms. Underhill's thin lips. " _You_ will be spending one week thinking through your choices during an out-of-school suspension," the headmistress told my sister firmly before returning her attention to me.

"I appreciate your generosity." Only when my lungs expanded to their full extent for the first time in several minutes did I realize that oxygen hadn't been making its way to my lungs quite right ever since the headmistress's voice had shown up in my class at exactly the wrong moment. Kira needed structure in her life and someone other than me pushing her academically. She'd been bored out of her skull at the public school, and a bored Kira was like a grenade with the pin removed. Bystanders had better brace themselves and wait for the detonation.

The academy was our family's haz-mat suit. Being able to maintain that protection in light of Kira's recent actions was more than I'd dared to expect.

So I struggled up out of the depths of the armchair and met Ms. Underhill's eyes as best I could from two feet lower. Did she sit on a pillow back there to elevate her height? "I promise you that Kira will come back to school on her best behavior and ready to learn...."

"I'm sure she will be," the headmistress interjected. "But that's not the reason I brought you here today. As I mentioned earlier, I'm concerned that _swordplay_ is an inappropriate activity for impressionable young minds. Control and restraint can be learned just as admirably at a gentler sport. Something like _ballet._ "

I cringed, imagining myself in a pink leotard barking orders at a roomful of tutu-clad kindergartners. But this was what I'd signed on for when I promised my dying father that I'd raise Kira myself rather than losing her to the foster-care system. So I merely nodded, keeping my clenched fists hidden beneath the overhang of the desk. "I understand," I agreed. "I can do that."

"No, I don't think you _do_ understand," Ms. Underhill contradicted. Her head tilted, her mouth pursed, and for a split second I thought the old battle ax felt sorry for me. "I'm afraid I've found someone else to fill your position. Your final paycheck will go out in the mail tomorrow...along with a bill for the rest of Kira's tuition at the normal rate."

"I'll be better off without that school anyway." Kira was back on top of the cemetery wall, but she wasn't dancing through our walk home this time around. Instead, she was skulking, shoulders hunched and feet kicking out at every pebble that dared stray into her path.

Her words, in contrast, remained perfectly controlled as she laid out a plan that would have made our father weep if he wasn't rotting in his grave. "At the public school, I can land an A without any effort. Which means I can get a job. We'll be a two-breadwinner family. We can buy a TV and a better sofa. We can eat salami. That's how it _should_ be. Really, Mrs. Underhill is doing us a favor. I'll write her a thank-you note as soon as we get home."

Despite the evenness of Kira's monologue, she clearly lamented the lost opportunity as much as I did. Because rocks went spraying out in every direction beneath a particularly virulent kick, and this time I had to dodge to prevent being struck.

"How about a milkshake?" I countered. "Or a candy bar? We can talk about school later."

After all, I'd learned the hard way that it was a recipe for failure trying to out-argue my sister once she'd dug her heels in. Kira _was_ going back to the academy, but I wouldn't press the issue until I figured out how to pay the full-price tuition. Until then, I might as well keep us both calm so our fox natures didn't make us say things we'd later regret.

Kira, on the other hand, had no such compunction about speaking before thinking. " _You_ said I needed to steer clear of sugar. _You_ said it made me volatile."

I had to laugh at my sister's rebuttal...because, really, how much more volatile could Kira get after being kicked out of school for bitch-slapping three classmates? "I think just this once you can handle a sugar high," I started...

...then yelped as hard hands grabbed onto my shoulders while the sidewalk spun away from beneath my feet. There were male figures all around me now, the emergence of lanky legs and leering faces proving that I'd been too focused upon my sister's hurt feelings and not focused enough upon potential dangers impinging from the outside world.

But Kira was perched on top of a wall in a place of momentary safety. " _Run!_ " I told her seconds before a hand landed atop my open mouth, strangling all further sound.

The teenager's palm tasted like grease and salt, and I was 99% certain my opponent hadn't washed after using the restroom. _Gross._ Still, the eyes that advanced toward me were entirely human. And the male's scent was more fast-food pickles than incipient fur.

So I didn't bother dulling my reflexes. Just hooked my knees around Pickle Breath's ankles and _pulled_ so hard he hit the ground with an audible thud even as I struggled to regain my own footing.

Which didn't leave me in the clear, of course. Not with four other gang members still reaching toward me, their hands making up in number what they lacked in supernatural speed.

Despite the advancing front of heady testosterone, I stole a moment to peer at my sister as she perched atop the wall just where I'd left her. Predictably, Kira had completely ignored my previous commandment. If I didn't miss my guess, she was currently trying to decide which gang member to leap upon first.

_"Go home,"_ I mouthed again, hoping our opponents had forgotten about the girl's presence. Just imagining what would happen if they grabbed my innocent sister sent my chest shrinking in on itself, forcing life-giving air out of my lungs....

So I let the barest hint of fox fill my features as I glared directly at her. Let Kira know from my sharpening teeth and darkening eyes that I was serious about being obeyed this time around.

And, to my relief, Kira hesitated only one more second before nodding. Then she spun on her heel and sprinted away so quickly none of the gang members would have been able to catch her even if they'd tried.

The distant shriek of a city bus's air brakes promised Kira would be safe within seconds if she played her cards right. Which left me with no one to worry about except my lonesome.

Good thing I had aggressions to work out of my own system since the field was currently rather overbalanced on my opponents' behalf.

# Chapter Eight

Five against one was a bit much even for me, but I didn't bother turning my star ball into a sword this time around. Not when goons like the ones before me measured the world in terms of greater and lesser forces. If I whipped a blade out of nowhere and vanquished them today, they'd just try again with weapons of their own tomorrow. On the other hand, if I beat up five bozos using nothing except my own body...well, maybe they'd leave my kid sister alone should she ever sneak out and walk down this street by herself in the future.

So I dipped beneath the closest male's grasping arms and used his own momentum to push him toward the pavement. Thug two received a kick to the chest and three didn't see the arm-twist coming. Which left only the tallest gang member standing...plus Pickle Breath, who was clambering back to his feet on my right-hand side.

The recent show of strength really should have been enough to dull their aggressions. After all, these teenagers were just kids barely older than my sister. So I gave them an opportunity to cut their losses without further bruising doled out by me.

"I recommend you walk away while you still can," I told the tall guy who apparently believed in leading from the rear. Then, glancing at the three teens still catching their breath atop the pavement, I added, "Or crawl. Whichever works best for you."

"You need to pay up if you want protection in our neighborhood," Tall Guy countered, acting as if he had a full posse behind him rather than being the only member of his gang with all body parts still intact. "We've carried your ass long enough. Stay and pay, or go and..."

I couldn't decide whether or not to roll my eyes as Tall Guy struggled to come up with a word that rhymed with "go." Because I'd felt bad about beating up gang members who were really just confused teenagers. But if their leader was going to force the issue...well, I hadn't enjoyed a good fight in over a week due to Ma Scrubbs' requirement that I lose my most recent Arena match.

"Go and owe?" I suggested, taking a single step forward. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't really blame Kira for beating up those girls earlier in the day. Not when my own feet were itching with the urge to leap and kick, not when my fingers tingled with the knowledge that battle was imminent....

_"Let the water flow,"_ my dead mother's voice warned me. And her words materializing in my brain shocked me just as much the second time around as they had the first.

Perhaps that's why I merely stood there as a faint scent of musky fur washed over me. Since when did werewolves follow me around day after day? And did my maternal ghost's sudden chattiness have anything to do with the presence of a shifter where one didn't belong?

Unfortunately, Tall Guy took advantage of my surprise to get the jump on me. The teenager wasn't willing to be laughed at in front of his comrades, and he was apparently willing to do something about that affront. I barely caught a flicker of movement before he was reaching into the back of his baggy trousers and pulling out a revolver that changed the odds in an instant.

The weapon reflected a beam of pure sunlight into my retinas before tilting so I stared down the dark barrel instead. "Die, ho," the gang leader said grimly.

Then he pulled the trigger.

With a werewolf nearby, I couldn't dodge out of the way of the oncoming bullet. But I _could_ use my star ball to protect myself.

Apparently it was too much to ask to manipulate magic into a solid barrier while also bracing myself against the impact though. Because the cartridge hit dead center in my chest so hard it sent me sprawling, the scab on my hand scraping loose against the pavement as I attempted to catch myself before my skull hit the ground.

And even though I didn't crack my head open, I _did_ land with enough force that I ended up unable to do more than watch as the newcomer launched himself onto those poor thugs with the full force of a pissed-off werewolf. My protector was outwardly human but inwardly bestial. And once I finally blinked tears out of my eyes sufficiently to make out my ally's identity, I found myself unsurprised by the realization that I was far too familiar with this ravening beast.

A swordsman's grace in an athlete's body. Gunner. Of course. Who else would be tailing me so slyly that he could come to my supposed rescue at just the wrong moment...yet again?

The werewolf-in-human-clothing wasn't even breathing heavily when he paused thirty seconds later to assess the damage. His opponents, on the other hand, were another matter entirely. Tall Guy whined like a nap-deprived toddler, his arm broken and his pistol kicked twenty yards away. Pickle Breath swore steadily, but even he kept his eyes down and his head bowed in instinctive submission to the beast within their midst.

And the other three kids? They'd run off the moment Gunner turned his attention elsewhere, proving they were smarter than their so-called boss.

"Mai is under my protection," Gunner growled then, words barely human as he knelt atop Tall Guy's prone figure with the teen's unbroken arm twisted up behind his back. The werewolf's muscles rippled with his attempt to maintain humanity, and his dark eyebrows lowered into a glowering frown. "You so much as look at her funny, and your future ends precipitously. Do you understand what I'm saying here?"

I wasn't so sure Tall Guy knew the meaning of the word "precipitously," but he certainly got the gist of the werewolf's threat anyway. Because the boy cringed in on himself so severely he appeared shorter than I was. And his breathing became so sporadic he managed no more than a frantic nod as I took advantage of the lull to pry myself off the pavement and pad over to their side.

Not that I wanted to put myself between an angry alpha and his quarry. But while Gunner might have seemed like a nice-enough guy in the Arena, I didn't trust any werewolf to protect the innocent. And Tall Guy—despite his chosen profession—was innocent enough.

So I twisted half of my star ball into the shape of a dagger, secreting the weapon beneath my sleeve where it would be accessible if Gunner turned overly aggressive once I moved to interrupt. Then I opened my mouth and accepted the werewolf's annoying yet helpful support. "And my sister as well," I murmured just loudly enough for the shifter to hear me without impinging upon Tall Guy's attempts to smooth his gasps into words.

"And Mai's sister," Gunner added, driving his knee deeper into Tall Guy's kidneys while twisting the poor kid's arm up higher into the air. "The sister is mine also. _Swear it._ "

The scent of fur grew stronger as Gunner's humanity continued slipping. And I'd already opened my mouth to let the kid off the hook when Tall Guy finally forced out a babbling plea for mercy. "Yes, yes, yes, _yes_!" the teenager shrieked, writhing within the larger male's grip.

At which point I placed one hand on Gunner's shoulder to remind him that my former opponents were only human. If he broke them, they'd remain broke.

Alpha werewolves hate being contradicted, but Gunner's response was more extreme than I'd anticipated. Because before I could so much as skitter sideways, his hand reached out to grab my wrist with the speed of a striking cobra. Then his nostrils flared as he took in the liquid pooling across my palm.

"Blood," he noted. At which point his gaze landed on the hole in my sweatshirt and his eyes widened. "You've been shot."

# Chapter Nine

Gunner rose to his feet so abruptly I would have lost my balance if his hands hadn't been tearing at the neckline of my sweatshirt, attempting to rip fabric away from my skin. Out of the corner of one eye, I caught sight of the remaining gang members fleeing the scene of their defeat. But I wasn't concerned about teenage hoodlums any longer. Instead, I was fighting off a male who outweighed me by approximately a ton of muscle and who possessed supernatural speed and agility to boot.

"Stop!" I demanded, bringing one knee up to hit the male equivalent of an eject button. Because, yes, I'll admit it—I had previously found the alpha werewolf as enticing and dangerous as a shiny new rapier. But I didn't intend to assuage my curiosity on an open city street.

Unfortunately, Gunner's instincts proved far too well-honed to fall prey to the typical female self-defense moves. Instead, the alpha's easy twist out of my reach suggested that he was as adept at street fighting as he was at protecting his brother. And this time around, my throat tightened as I realized I was trapped within the vise-grip of werewolf arms.

Well, not quite trapped. The icy dagger slid down into my left fingers with facility despite the mandates of gravity begging it to move in the opposite direction. And my lips twitched into a smirk as I recalled how easily a lefty strike typically worked its way through an opponents' unwitting guard.

But before I could decide between the long-lasting damage of a stab and the shock value of a swipe, the fabric of my shirt tore at last with a resounding _riiiiiip._ Then cold air rushed across my chest at the same moment Gunner flipped the dagger out of my hand with an almost-gentle bend of his wrist.

I was both disarmed and in dishabille. And while either state might have been enough to leave me shaken, it was the separation from my star ball that struck like a punch to my gut. The fragment of my soul soared away before I could beg it to change trajectory, and I bent inward as my strength fled right along with my blade.

"I need to see where you're _wounded_ ," Gunner growled, his words laden with more emotion than seemed justified by the ugly gray of my sports bra. Oh, right, the bullet hole. I shook my head woozily, trying to recall why showing the handsy alpha my holeless skin wasn't the obvious route out of this untenable situation.

And as I pondered, Gunner took matters into his own hands. "Easy does it," he murmured, voice hoarse with emotion. One huge hand slid down to press almost gently against my lower back while the other leveraged my shoulders up. Then chilly air gaped down the dramatically enlarged neckline of my sweatshirt, bringing my barely covered chest closer to the werewolf's searching eyes.

It was hard to think with a third of my soul glinting against the pavement two body lengths away. So despite the sure knowledge that retrieving the star ball via magic was a bad idea, I nudged at the pseudo-metal with my mind's eye, dragging it inch by inch across the road as stealthily as an alley cat stalked a mouse.

And the mere change in direction of my soul fragment snapped the rest of my brain back into focus. _He can't know what I am,_ I realized, hoping it wasn't already too late.

Luckily, I could work quickly when haste was necessary. Calling upon the rest of my magic with far less ceremony than usual, I molded the icy star-ball fragment into a medallion. Sent out a tendril of magic to solidify into a gold chain looped around my neck. Then mental fingers slipped the bulky disc into my left bra cup a split second before Gunner's hand-on-shoulders momentum bared my unclothed chest to view.

It turned out I needn't have hurried though. Because the werewolf who had been so aggressive one moment earlier paused before digging into my underwear. His fingers hovered atop the second layer of fabric while his scent grew subtly more human as he overcame the instincts of his beast.

"I need to look at...." He paused, averted his eyes, and didn't quite manage to complete the thought as the faintest tinge of red infused his cheeks.

The abrupt shyness from a formerly brash alpha was endearing. So rather than snapping back in retaliation for earlier abuses, I merely pulled the medallion out of its hiding place with a jerk to the chain that hadn't existed seconds before. "The bullet never hit me," I informed him, speaking as slowly as I did with the most annoying of my sixth graders. "It's the old Bible-in-the-breast-pocket routine. No wound. No blood. No reason for you to be pawing at my breasts."

Seconds after I spoke, though, I realized the error in my logic. Kira would have rolled her eyes at such an obvious continuity flaw in someone else's magic trick. Because if the medallion had been inside my bra cup from the get-go...why was there no hole in that second layer of fabric? Why wasn't there the bulge of a bullet breaking up the gentle curve of my breast?

Moving as swiftly as I could, I pulled a safety pin out of nowhere...or, rather, out of the back of the medallion, which shrank by half a centimeter as it lost a twentieth of its mass. Then I covered up the evidence quite literally, pinning my sweatshirt back together with hands that trembled only slightly.

Meanwhile, the boomeranged dagger nudged at my boot, its peregrinations complete. Just what I needed—to draw further attention to inconsistencies in my spur-of-the-moment solution. Still, I couldn't just leave it there.

So, neck prickling with danger, I bent down to collect the errant weapon, feeling absurd as I went through the motions of stashing a trickle of magic away in an imaginary sheath up one sleeve.

Up my _right_ sleeve. Shit. Could I be more disingenuous?

Before me, the werewolf's brows furrowed in consideration. He knew something was cockeyed...which meant it was past time to make my escape.

"Thanks for nothing," I said grimly, turning away from a predator who possessed the means, motive, and opportunity to snap my neck between his long fingers. Then, forcing my feet not to break into a run, I headed blindly toward the far end of the block.

# Chapter Ten

Unfortunately, I'd only taken a single step when Gunner's hand came down upon my shoulder. And I hated myself for the tingle of awareness that had nothing to do with the werewolf tendency to hunt fox shifters as one of his fingers slid sideways to brush up against my bare skin.

"Wait," Gunner ordered. Or rather...requested? Because there was no electric tingle of alpha compulsion seasoning the single syllable this time. He wasn't telling. He was asking...well, as much as an alpha could bring himself to ask.

I was too much of a teacher not to reward good behavior. So I swiveled back to face him, arching an eyebrow even as I cocked my head. "What?"

"I wanted you to know the offer's still open." Confusion must have painted itself across my face because Gunner elaborated. "The job. My brother headed back to headquarters this morning, but I'm here for the duration. Well, not literally _here._ In town." __ He stopped himself before explanation turned into babble, held out what appeared to be a newly printed business card.

Curiosity forced me to accept the small rectangle of card stock. The werewolf had rented an office in the city while searching for a single Something? From the address, the space couldn't have come cheap.

"I'm not going to take a job I know nothing about," I countered, even as dollar signs danced through my head like moonbeams. How much, I wondered, might the werewolf in front of me spend hiring a local guide and investigative assistant? Enough to pay Kira's tuition? Enough to buy my voracious sibling salami every day of the week?

"I wouldn't ask you to do anything nefarious," the werewolf in front of me promised. His eyes were hooded, his voice sweet as honey. "There's something dangerous walking these streets and I intend to find it. To keep people like your sister safe. There are elements involved I think you might be familiar with...."

Only when his words trailed off did I realize that I'd been inching closer with each of his syllables, my chin tilting upward as if Gunner was a magnet and I was iron filings drawn toward him through no action of my own. _Bad idea, Mai_ , I berated myself. Forcing myself to take one long step backward, I decided then and there that Kira and I would be better off living on ramen noodles rather than placing ourselves in the sight line of a seductively smooth alpha like this one.

Unfortunately, the star chain around my neck was unimpressed by my decision to be my own master. Instead, the mere thought of food was enough to remind it of last night's unpaid milk money, and now the magic sent cold trickles shivering over my shoulders and turning icier by the second. I _needed_ to get to that 7-Eleven sooner rather than later. I _needed_ to pay off my debt....

"Thanks but no thanks," I told the waiting werewolf, tucking his business card into one pocket while turning back in the direction from which I'd come. I'd hand over three bucks for the milk, then my star-ball-turned-conscience would leave me alone.

And even though my life was tricky enough without werewolves in it, I was subtly disappointed when Gunner's footsteps failed to follow me down the block. Apparently, though, lack of sound didn't equate to lack of movement. Because werewolf breath soon warmed the back of my neck despite the distance I'd moved since his last words.

"You can go straight home," the werewolf noted, apparently having realized why I'd switched directions without me having to explain the action in words. "I paid for your milk."

This time, the lizard of debt inside my chest cavity scrambled up my spine with scratchy claws even as Mama warned inside my brain: _"Specks of dust slowly accumulate into mountain ranges."_

"Let me pay you back," I started, knowing my mother was right. I couldn't afford to be indebted to a werewolf....

But this time Gunner was the one backing away, was refusing the bills I fumbled out toward him in an effort to stave off further star-ball compulsions. "It was my pleasure," my companion answered, the distance between us growing with every word. "Maybe next time you'll let me buy you a beer. Or at least we could drink some milk together. You have my card."

He was flirting. Sweetly almost. If only he wasn't a werewolf, perhaps I would have said yes.

Instead, I squashed the niggle of complaint from my star ball, shook my head once, then swiveled around yet again to head in my original direction. If the werewolf didn't want my money, then I'd save it for my sister. It was time to get home and check on Kira.

I should have been relieved to finally achieve the anteroom of my den, but I winced as I pushed open the heavy fire door that separated stairwell from hallway. Because my least favorite person was waiting on the faded welcome mat outside our apartment, and I really could have done without dealing with Simon tonight.

"Mai," the gangly social worker greeted me, his voice as droopy as the wrinkles around his eyes. "I've been waiting for twenty minutes."

"Shi—oot," I parried. "So sorry about that."

Meanwhile, my mind was running a mile a minute. What was Simon doing here? Had he found out about my lost job and about Kira's precarious school situation? Was he ready to live up to past insinuations that my sister would be better off placed in another home?

If our conversation had been a cage fight, I would have been backpedaling rapidly while hoping my hind end didn't end up against the chain-link before I came up with a strategy other than retreat. Luckily, Simon took pity on my confusion before I let anything particularly incriminating slip. "Did you forget we had a home visit planned for today?"

A home visit? That's all this was? "Yeah," I admitted, brushing past the state employee as I turned my key in the lock. I'd likely noted down the date in my planner, then lost the reminder during Kira's ill-fated magic trick last week. After a building evacuation, two hours of mopping up sprinkler water, and a furious tirade by the apartment supervisor, the fate of my planner—and the dates of any upcoming home visits—had been the least of my concern.

As if reading my mind, Kira's bushy tail flicking apologetically from her perch atop the bedroom lintel and I found myself smiling instead of fuming. At least my sister had made it home safe and sound.

"So," Simon said, walking in behind me without invitation and settling into one of our two dining chairs. "How is everything going here?"

As he spoke, his gaze flicked around the tiny apartment, and I scurried along in its wake, moving dirty cereal bowls into the sink and picking up place mats that had been knocked onto the floor by fox action. It wasn't as if we lived in a pig sty, but I worked two jobs and Kira was a shifter cooped up in a one-bedroom apartment. Our home wasn't exactly spic and span.

On the other hand, I loved my sister, I neither used nor dealt drugs, and I didn't bring home pervert boyfriends who snuck into her room to fondle Kira's underage body while she slept. It was hard to believe this was the worst fostering situation Simon came in contact with. So I mustered a smile and offered foodstuffs I didn't actually have on hand rather than remarking upon the financial upset threatening Kira's and my lives. "Would you like some tea? Or a cookie?"

"No." Simon's mouth pursed as if the mere idea of eating something inside my home gave him the willies. He paused, then added: "Thank you."

We stared at each other in silence for enough seconds that the meeting began to feel profoundly awkward. Then the social worker pinned me down with a specific question I didn't know how to sidestep. "What is it you're working so hard not to tell me?"

The man was too astute for my own good. And I couldn't risk being caught up in an untruth.

So I went ahead and spilled the beans. "I lost my job at the school," I admitted. Then, figuring a little white lie wouldn't kill me, I added: "I've got several leads on new ones though. I swear to you, Kira isn't going to end up starving or on the streets. I just need a little time to work things out."

Rather than answering immediately, the social worker clambered back to his feet so he could take my hand. His palm was faintly damp and chilly, but I forced myself not to jerk away from the contact. Instead, I met Simon's gaze head on as he spoke in what he probably thought was a compassionate manner.

"I'll return Monday with my supervisor," he told me. "Please have Kira packed and ready. If your work situation hasn't improved dramatically by that point, I'm afraid we'll need to move your sister to a more appropriate home."

# Chapter Eleven

"Stay here," I ordered Kira fifteen minutes later while molding my star ball into its favorite shape—a long, slender sword hanging at my hip where it would be easily accessible. "Don't go out, don't open the door, and don't let anybody in."

As I spoke, I kicked off my PE teacher shoes, donning high leather boots instead. Off went the fitted gym pants, on went the knife-resistant leather. A school-themed hoodie electrified my hair as it slid off my slender frame, then I drew my favorite shiny, black jacket back up around my shoulders like a shield.

"Go over the next chapter in your math book," I continued. "Just because you're suspended doesn't mean you can afford falling behind."

"Where are you going?" Kira spoke as she shifted, a shimmer of light and air turning fox into girl with the effortlessness of magic. She hadn't bothered leaping down from the lintel before transforming, so she ended up chinning herself onto the floor, landing as silently as she would have in her animal form.

Unfortunately, my sibling was even more inquisitive on two feet than she had been on four. And no more interested in schoolwork either.

"Tonight's not an Arena night," Kira pointed out, padding in a circle around me as she completely ignored all preceding instructions. Her agile fingers twitched my hair out from under the collar of my jacket and straightened my sword in its sheathe even as her equally clever tongue pinned me down verbally as only a little sister could. "Where else can we get enough money to satisfy Simon?"

I wasn't in the habit of lying to my sister, so I told her the cold, hard true. "From werewolves," I answered, eyes closing as I made a decision I knew in my heart would lead to yet more trouble. But I couldn't lose Kira to the foster-care system. And Gunner possessed both the funds and the ability to make my upcoming employment appear legitimate enough to satisfy even our dour social worker's unattainable standards.

I'd just have to keep a tight rein on my abilities until Gunner left town. Easy enough.

As if she was reading my mind, my sister raised herself on tiptoe until she could look me in the eye. Then she parroted back words I'd tossed in her direction far too often over the years. "Foxes and wolves don't mix. You can't let them know what we are."

My chest expanded with pride as I gazed upon a young woman growing into wisdom by the moment. "I won't," I started. But Kira wasn't done with her efforts to rule the roost.

"You need backup. I'm coming with you," she decided, dropping butt-to-linoleum by the door while yanking on recently discarded tennis shoes. The math textbook beside her was nudged subtly aside as she dressed, a sprawl of notebooks turning dog-eared and rumpled as she used them to pry dirt out from between her cleats. "I can be a distraction."

She sure could. Right now, for instance, I was distracted with worry that Dad might think my sister was better off in a wealthier household than the one I was able to pay for, or in a family where textbooks weren't used as doorstops. After all, our father had believed in education just as firmly as he believed in kinship. What would he think if I was forced to yank Kira out of the academy just because I couldn't come up with enough cash to pay the bill?

"No, you're not coming with me," I countered, squashing second thoughts even as I pulled up Gunner's address on my cell phone. The closest bus stop was a mile from the alpha's office and I'd have to make two changes to even get that far. "Math is an essential life skill," I muttered both to myself and to my sister. For example, math told me I couldn't afford a taxi...which meant I'd take the bus for the first leg then walk the rest.

I should have realized that Kira's mercurial nature was shifting from helpful to fretful, but I was too busy plotting out my plan of attack to notice the symptoms. Now, though, the leggy tween eased between my phone and my face, forcing me to pay attention to her expression. And I winced as I caught the red flush of anger brightening her cheeks.

"Kira..." I started.

"I'm not a _child_ ," my sister countered. "I deserve to be involved. I deserve to know what I _am._ "

"We're foxes..."

Kira didn't even wait for me to finish that particular sentence. Instead, she pressed closer into my personal space, standing on tiptoes not so much in solidarity this time around as in an attempt to intimidate. "We're fox _shifters_ ," she corrected as if she was the adult and I was the child. "But what does that even mean? Why do the werewolves hate us if we're just like them except with red fur and better style? It doesn't make any sense."

She was right, unfortunately. But Mama had been my only link to knowledge about our heritage and our mother was long gone...or was she?

Absurdly, I waited ten long seconds for a voice in my head to illuminate the darkness. And during that delay, my sister's stewing erupted into outright rage. "If you don't want to tell me..." she started.

"I don't _know_ , okay?" I snapped back, ashamed of myself even as I lost my temper. "Do you think turning into a parent at age eighteen came with a handbook? It _didn't_. I'm doing the best I can and you're not helping matters. Now do your homework then go to bed."

And, predictably, Kira lashed right back with her own fox fury. "I hate you," my usually sunny sister emoted, family cohesiveness and math textbooks forgotten in the face of my badly chosen honesty. Then the girl fled to her bedroom without another word and slammed the door behind her back.

# Chapter Twelve

I'd managed to make the switch onto the blue line and was relaxing as the third city bus of the evening wended its way into the good part of town before it occurred to me that I wasn't the only person in the vehicle's shadowy posterior. How had I missed that hint of fur beneath the stench of unwashed bodies and spilled soda pop when I boarded ten minutes earlier? My only defense—that I had more important matters on my mind than getting jumped by a stray werewolf—failed to hold water when my attempt to swivel in search of further information was stilled by a flash of silver flicking in front of my eyes one millisecond before cold steel came to settle beneath my chin.

"Eh, eh, eh. Not so fast."

I froze, running through possibilities in my mind. Was this an unaffiliated drifter, an Atwood underling, or one of Jackal's henchmen? My opponent's identity should have made a difference, but the male's subsequent words turned off my rational side and prompted me to throw caution to the winds. "Your sister...." the male started.

And without giving him time to spit out whatever thinly veiled threat he'd dreamed up, I acted. One hand rose to pry his blade-holding fingers back into a painful reverse stretch even as my other arm leveraged me off the seat sufficiently to get my feet underneath my butt.

Then I was the one attacking. My sword was less than useless in such a confined situation, but I could spring upwards holding onto my opponent's hand while leaping. No wonder his knife clattered to the floor between us even as the male—scruffy, badly dressed, older than I'd expected—exploded into the aisle with teeth sharpening within his still-human mouth.

"You little bitch," he started, shaking out his right hand even as his left inched toward what appeared to be another knife marring the drape of his Hawaiian shirt. And here Kira thought _my_ clothing needed assistance....

Wardrobe aside, I refused to be intimidated by my opponent's bulk or by his small-space-appropriate weapons. Instead, I bought a little breathing room with a verbal attack. "Nice flowers," I started. "But I thought Casual Friday wasn't until tomorrow...."

Before I could finish, I was sliding sideways, the non-slip matting beneath my feet insufficient to hold me in place as the bus driver slammed on his brakes. My stomach hit the plastic of the nearest seat back, breath whooshing out of me even as I scrabbled against the floorboards in search of my opponent's dropped weapon.

But the male was no longer attacking. Was, I realized as I looked up, instead halfway down the aisle where he'd been slung by the vehicle's abrupt halt.

Which meant his second knife was now poised half an inch away from the eyeball of a boy too young to be out by himself after dark. Yes, _I_ was now safe from the werewolf's weaponry. But based on the curl of the shifter's upper lip, he was well aware that harm to an innocent was just as damaging as harm to myself.

The boy whimpered as the scent of smug shifter filled the enclosed space so densely it choked my attempted inhale. "The brain is right behind the eyeball," my werewolf opponent observed smoothly. "I learned that from a Hawaiian medicine woman. Are you ready to deal yet?"

The bastard thought he had me over a barrel. But he'd missed my fingers closing around the knife recently abandoned on the bus's floor, and he must have also missed the memo that street fighters never back down.

So, unlike him, I attacked without warning. Didn't open my mouth or even flick my eyes to give away my intentions. Just twisted and flung the knife in one unerring movement, gaze following the blade as it sliced through my opponent's sleeve and bicep, ripping him away from his current victim and pinning the male against the back of the seat in front of them both.

The werewolf howled in agony, the boy shrieked in terror...and I was slung around hard as handcuffs pinched shut around my left wrist. "Police! Don't move!" a human shouted in my ear. Then my face was squished up against a seat back while my right hand was wrenched up behind me, only the faint musk of receding werewolf suggesting what I'd see once I was finally allowed to stand erect.

My opponent had taken advantage of the tussle to flee, I noted. And the humans, predictably, took one look at my ragged clothing combined with the massive sword still belted at my waist and rewrote the past with chilling inaccuracy.

"She was attacking that boy!" a cane-wielding matron exclaimed, pointing at the child who'd survived the scuffle without a single scratch...thanks to me.

"She pulled a knife," the bus driver confirmed, watching as I was frog-marched down the aisle and out the front door of the bus. I'd nearly made it to my destination, I realized. Was standing in a residential neighborhood full of mansions and bigger mansions and vast expanses of emerald green grass.

And...werewolves. Because the scruffy male was long gone, but another shifter waited at the bottom of the bus steps. This one reminded me of a more wiry version of Gunner and Ransom with a wardrobe even Kira would have considered both stylish and smart. Another brother? A cousin? I couldn't be certain. Whatever his lineage, the mild-mannered shifter in his bespoke business suit was a good fit for talking the policeman off my back.

"Is there a problem, officer?" the not-quite-stranger asked, the query so clichéd it might as well have rolled off the lips of a B-rate movie actor. And yet, he managed to pull off the impression. Could almost have been readjusting a monocle as he superciliously stared the policeman down.

"This woman attacked a boy on a city bus..." the officer started. But the stranger cut him off with a single raised hand.

"Did you see the altercation in person? Was anyone injured?"

"Well, no...."

"Then I highly doubt you have your facts straight. Because this young woman is my house guest. Not a troublemaker in the least...although she _could_ use a better tailor. I'll admit that part."

Together, the werewolf and the police officer looked me up and down, lips similarly pursed as they passed judgment on my thrift-store attire. Hey, it was better than a hot pink Hawaiian shirt....

And even though my escape from potential incarceration shouldn't have been that easy, the bus of witnesses was already rolling away down the street. Meanwhile, the officer before us apparently had no incentive to argue with a well-heeled resident of a top-tier neighborhood. "I apologize for any inconvenience," the official told me after a single second of consideration. Then air flowed in to replace the pinch of handcuffs, my former captor strolling away down the sidewalk before my rescuer could lodge an official complaint.

Which left me in the custody of a werewolf who had every reason to berate me at length for nearly revealing myself to humans. But the stranger just raised one eyebrow and shook his head slowly instead. "Not smart," he chided almost gently before adding: "Go home."

Then he left me there. Didn't ask what I was doing in his neighborhood or why I'd let myself fall into the hands of a human authority while looking only moderately human. Instead, the male swiveled away from me—who turns their back on an angry sword-woman?—then continued on his trajectory alone.

For half a second, I just stood there, shocked by the male's rudeness. But then I scurried after him, jogging slowly enough to appear human while following the shifter up the steps to the mansion that bore Gunner's address. I fully expected the male's chivalrous instincts to prompt him to wait for me at the entrance of the building, but instead the door literally clanged shut in my face.

Rubbing my bruised forehead with one hand, I reached out to turn the knob with the other. Only to find the barrier locked and unwilling to budge. Really? Nameless Dude was just going to retreat inside and shut me out behind him?

Which is when my fox nature took over entirely. Not bothering with the bell, I pounded on the wooden door with both fists. "Let me in!" I demanded, temper firing hotter with every blow.

"Just like a werewolf," I growled under my breath, so intent upon fuming and noisemaking that I didn't hear footsteps responding to my barrage of knocks. My hand was drawn back in preparation for further pounding when the door jerked open before me.

And that's how I came to punch an alpha werewolf in the nose.

# Chapter Thirteen

There was blood. And the scent of fur. And the wildest flash of rage in a broad-shouldered shifter's eyes.

Then I was being drawn inside, the door closing behind us, as Gunner grabbed a doily off a sideboard and held it up to his streaming nostrils. "You certainly know how to make an entrance," he said grimly, walking away from me just as quickly as his brother—cousin?—had.

Like the thinner werewolf I'd followed up the front steps, the one currently in front of me didn't bother glancing back to see if I followed as he sped through a series of rooms full of ebony furniture and Turkish rugs. Instead, he bellowed loudly enough for humans to hear from the sidewalk, calling out names of pack mates who came sprinting toward us from nooks and crannies I didn't have time to fully peruse as we rushed past.

"Liam," Gunner greeted my former savior as we reached a broad stairwell in the heart of the mansion. The alpha's voice was muffled by the table runner he'd snatched to replace the doily as he stopped barking out names and moved on to demands. "What else do we know?"

I wasn't sure how the dark-haired shifter had found time to reach the second story in the few short seconds I'd spent pounding on the door out front. But now Liam descended the stairs in a measured manner while answering the shifter who clearly outranked him by at least a bit. "We don't know much," Gunner's relative said, falling in beside his superior while subtly boxing me further away from the center of power. "And are you sure you want to talk in front of a ragamuffin off the streets?"

Ragamuffin? Did the male think he was living in Victorian-era England? And did that mean my potential job hadn't been okayed by the rest of the pack?

Gunner glanced at me for a split second only, his eyes piercing as he dropped the table runner to the floor and accepted the handkerchief another pack mate was thrusting into his hand. "Tell me," he ordered Liam without bothering to respond to the dig about my part in...whatever this was.

And this time, information was finally forthcoming. "The body was found in an alley," Liam offered, which snagged my attention in a way Gunner's vague job offers had not. A body didn't sound good. A body meant there was more going on than an overbearing alpha and my need to pay the bills.

"Unscented like the last one?" my maybe-boss queried.

Liam merely nodded by way of reply, leaving me to wonder if my understanding of the world was perhaps a smidge small-minded and naive. Because as best I could tell, everything in our world had a scent. After all, superior nostrils were half of my edge over human opponents in the Arena.

But I didn't have time to further ponder the issue, because Gunner was pushing through the back door and leading us all onto what appeared to be an industrial loading dock. "Address?" he queried as I took in the view.

There were two moving vans backed up to the elevated concrete porch, as if these shifters had settled into my home town for the duration rather than merely passing through on their way to greener pastures. In addition, a fleet of cars and SUVs promised the pack would have no problem getting around while they were in residence. Must be nice having so many wheels at your beck and call.

And, apparently, a driver. Because Liam angled ahead of his relative at last, opening the driver's side door of the closest SUV. "I'll take you there."

The move appeared properly obsequious. However, for the first time, Gunner slowed the pack's forward momentum as his hand closed upon the reedier male's forearm. "No," the alpha said quietly...but not quietly enough to keep any of the nearby shifter ears from picking up on the mild rebuke. "Ransom would be lost without his personal secretary. He expects you home tonight. Stick to the plan."

The words weren't commanding, nor were they overtly revealing. Yet I read volumes of information streaming between the two males as they locked identical sienna eyes. Both shifters were looking out for their relative. Both understood that Ransom possessed some weakness requiring a trusted advisor present at all times.

Or that's the way Gunner saw the matter. Liam, it seemed, had a different approach to dealing with a potentially problematic leader of their shared pack.

" _This_ is where the action is," the slender shifter started. " _This_ is more important than whatever business I'd be taking care of back home."

Liam's words weren't overtly insubordinate, but they were enough to evoke a growl of rage from his superior. And within seconds, the lower-ranking werewolf was rattling off directions with eyes averted then obediently slipping behind the wheel of a much smaller vehicle off to one side. Apparently Gunner's worries about Ransom trumped whatever crime scene the former was going to investigate. Equally apparent—Gunner's merest hint of displeasure was law within this pack.

I was similarly shunted out of the flow of werewolves as Gunner tossed out orders to his remaining crew members. Doors slammed as half the assemblage piled into vehicles. Meanwhile, half of the shifters present spread out, trotting down the block or back into the building to form a well-oiled security patrol.

Then Liam's car was rolling away down the alley, his headlights cutting through the gloom even as other engines sprang to life on my every side. Like his departing relative, Gunner was behind the wheel of his own SUV rather than depending upon a driver. Still, the male definitely played the stereotypical alpha role as he honked his horn so loudly I instinctively jumped backwards out of the way.

Tonight was not the night for a job interview, I decided. I'd return tomorrow and beg forgiveness for the nose bleed while stating my case. In the meantime, I could brainstorm other opportunities of gainful employment. This testosterone haze of a werewolf pack couldn't be the only way to keep Kira in math books and lunch meat.

Only, Gunner hadn't forgotten about my presence. When his horn honk didn't elicit the desired reaction, the tinted window between us rolled down to expose a tense and craggy face.

"Get in," the alpha ordered, blood-encrusted nostrils flaring. He jerked his chin sideways, and for the first time I noticed that, although the back seat was cramped with three cheek-to-jowl shifters, no one had elected to ride shotgun beside their boss.

If the feeling of handcuffs around my wrists had horrified my fox instincts, entering a small space with an angry werewolf seemed akin to committing suicide. But I'd run out of good ideas and was willing to jump at the bad. So, opening the door quickly before Gunner could change his mind, I hastened to obey.

# Chapter Fourteen

We rode to the crime scene in eerie silence, sword squeezed between my knees and the rest of my body pressed up against the door. I hated being so timid, but hungry eyes lingered on the back of my neck. And every time I opened my mouth to speak, the musk of alpha werewolf coated my tongue like moss. No wonder I clamped my lips together over incipient words every time I considered breaking the ice.

Meanwhile, my star-ball-turned-sword throbbed against my pant legs, sucking heat out of the air and forming ice crystals atop everything it touched. Twice, Gunner turned the heater up a notch, and each time he eyed me with probing consideration. In response, I used the most fox-like offensive imaginable. Despite flicking glances in the predatory alpha's direction, I made sure to be looking out the window every time he returned the favor.

Finally, though, the vehicle ground to a halt just off the edge of the highway, the buffeting wind of a passing tractor trailer shaking our SUV like a leaf. This wasn't a legal place to park. But if a highway patroller dropped by, I could imagine Gunner smiling his way out of probing questions as easily as Liam had recently gotten me off the hook.

Despite our precarious parking space, the werewolf behind the steering wheel seemed in no hurry to open his door, and the shifters behind us knew better than to disembark before their boss. "It won't be pretty," Gunner informed me when we'd been sitting there long enough that my sword was beginning to create a rime of ice on plastic surfaces nine inches away. I swiped at the dashboard as unobtrusively as I could with one finger, smudging frost into water. Then I reddened as my seat mate raised his brows at the dampness coating my hand.

Before Gunner could remark upon the inconsistency, though, a mutter emerged from the peanut gallery behind our backs. "He has to warn girls first," one noted.

"Of course he does. Otherwise, they'd run screaming as soon as he unzipped his fly."

I blinked, opened my mouth...and tasted amusement replacing the former aggression in the air. Gunner's underlings were making dirty jokes about their boss now...and he wasn't tearing them to bloody pieces with his bare hands? Perhaps I didn't understand werewolves as well as I'd thought I did.

And despite everything, I found myself playing along. "I can handle ugly," I answered, blinking aside enticing mental images with an effort. No matter what his pack mates were insinuating, Gunner's warning had referred not to portions of his own anatomy but to the rotting body of a corpse. "If," I added, remembering my priorities, "it's part of the job."

"So you want it now?" Gunner's scent twisted, lightened, teased my nostrils with the humor of yet another double entendre.

"I _need_ it," I countered, then reddened as the murmurs from the back seat grew even more lewd. I might have been playing along earlier, but I hadn't meant my final sentence in _that_ way. At least not consciously....

Rather than trying to pry my foot out of my mouth, I pushed open my door without regard for passing vehicles...or for whatever laws of shifter hierarchy were keeping everyone else penned up inside. And for half a second I allowed myself to bask in the flow of cold air across hot cheeks, to imagine what it might feel like to be part of a pack that teased each other with such blissful simplicity while still guarding each others' backs.

Unfortunately, I wasn't a werewolf. And an innocent sister depended upon my protection both today and always. So I inhaled deeply and took in the more far-flung aromas flowing toward me beneath car-exhaust fumes. Tinges of blood and even less savory bodily fluids slapped me in the face within seconds, reminding me why I was here.

Whatever Liam had been saying about "unscented" apparently didn't apply to decomposing corpses. Shrugging, I headed down the steep slope toward the stench of death.

The body was stuffed beneath an overpass, subtly illuminated by the vehicle lights Gunner's pack had left on when they left their SUVs and cars. And at first glance, it looked like a homeless person had merely succumbed to the elements. Our noses, however, told us a different story entirely.

"See the baking-soda bomb?" Gunner pointed up to the bridge above our heads, where a splintered black trash bag fluttered in the breeze. Every now and then, a few white particles drifted off its otherwise pristine surface, joining the scent-leaching compound that blew around our feet like desert sand. This was a shifter-specific cover-up, a sullying of evidence that only a being with super-powered nostrils would dream of. No wonder the local pack leader's representative considered the crime his personal duty to investigate.

"Smart move on the killer's part to counteract his scent," I agreed, trying to make a good impression as I picked my way through drifts of white powder on my way to the corpse's side. Because even though crime-scene investigation didn't top my list of potential professions, I was willing to showcase relevant cleverness if that's what it took to keep Kira enrolled in her fancy private school. "Let me guess. The bag was attached to a string that could be pulled from a vehicle's window after he covered up the rest of his trail?"

"Yep," Gunner agreed, joining me as I padded closer to the victim. Even with eddies of baking soda filling the air, I could smell my companion's personal aroma now. Pine needles and ozone and dew-dampened granite, as if the male by my side embodied the type of forest I wished I could set Kira loose to frolic amidst.

I must have inhaled a little too deeply though. Because I snorted up a blend of dust and death so intense that I started sneezing wildly enough to draw tears from my eyes. Perhaps the universe was trying to tell me something....

"Alright?" Gunner asked, his hand landing lightly on my forearm. Earlier, the male had seized me so violently I couldn't get away, ripping at my sweatshirt like a boy tearing away wrapping paper on Christmas morning. But now, strength flowed from his skin into my own, the mere touch burning with so much heat it made me shiver in protest.

And even though instinct begged me to lean into the werewolf's tantalizing body, eyes on the back of my neck promised that nearby shifters were judging both of our actions. So I took a step away from the alpha's warmth instead. Swiped tears off my cheeks almost angrily.

Then I skipped over any explanation for my weakness as I peered more carefully at the waiting corpse. I was here to do a job. Might as well get it over with.

# Chapter Fifteen

The recently departed looked even more like one of the city's lost souls up close and personal. His coat was a blue so faded it had turned gray while hair streamed down his shoulders and off his chin. The man himself could have been twenty or fifty. Whatever his age, he wouldn't see another year—not now that he was quite solidly dead.

"The other body you mentioned was the same?" I asked, squashing my instinctive urge to move further away from the corpse just as I'd previously tamped down the strange attraction to the male at my side. But even though my living mother had imbued in me a healthy hesitancy about touching dead bodies, her ghost was more interested in deciphering the puzzle before our eyes.

_"Three people gathering can create wisdom,_ " Mama whispered _._

And at the same moment, Gunner replied: "Same baking soda, different setting. We're looking for a serial killer now."

As he spoke, he nudged the corpse with one boot tip, toppling the body over from its side onto its back. And in response, I lost all squeamishness as my eyes took in the discordant feature shining out of the corpse's porcelain skin.

To the unmagical eye, the lost soul was likely no paler than the average dead body. After all, crime shows had informed me that when the heart ceases to beat, blood pools at the lowest point and turns the body a dusty gray.

But this corpse was paler than it should have been. Was, to the shifter eye, not just devoid of blood but lacking in magic as well.

_"Like the moon and the soft-shelled turtle,_ " Mama murmured as I dropped to my knees and pried back the scarf knotted around the dead male's throat.

Sure enough, lines of glowing magic slid down the corpse's neck and beneath his clothing. The rivulets were pulsing, tantalizing....and I unbuttoned the tattered coat nearly as roughly as Gunner had gone after my sweatshirt earlier in the day.

I wasn't expecting the resulting view though. Wasn't expecting the circle of symbols that emerged, branded upon the dead man's chest.

Or, not branded, but rather _frozen._ _"Don't try to bite your own navel,"_ my mother ordered. But whatever she was obliquely warning me against, I _had_ to understand what was going on.

Reaching forward, my fingers brushed against the pattern with the lightness of a feather. And, as if the magic had been waiting for me to make contact, the glowing lines coalesced into a miniature replica of a star ball before shooting comet-like into the dark. Seconds later, the dead man's chest was left as pristine as age-spotted and dirt-encrusted skin could be.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one who had noted the transition from magically branded to simply dead and grungy. "What was that?" Gunner demanded, hand latching down upon my unprotected nape. There was no seduction in his touch now, only hard, demanding anger. "And why did the pattern exactly match the necklace you were wearing this afternoon?"

"You're seeing things," I countered, too shaken to realize until the words left my mouth that confusion would have been a more appropriate response to his astute remark. But I hadn't expected the magical brand to be visible to the uninitiated. Meanwhile, most of my mind was intent upon figuring out how Mama's possessions could have been used to kill a man.

Because the similarity between the burnt circle and my amulet was no coincidence. In my moment of instinctive terror earlier in the day, I'd modeled the pattern of my supposed bullet-protection after one of the few objects my mother left behind her. It was easier to recreate a known pattern than to dream up something new on the fly....

Only, that particular amulet was supposed to harness good, not evil. And Mama's stories to that effect were all just superstition anyway.

Or so I'd thought at the time.

Now I sincerely regretted not having materialized a Mickey Mouse medallion as the supposed bullet blocker. Because Gunner yanked me back onto my feet with complete disregard for personal space, hands sliding from neck to shoulders as he pulled me in so close we were standing eye to eye...or rather, eye to the middle of his chest.

"You're saying it's an illusion that both your necklace thing and the burnt circle on the dead man's chest were marked with Japanese characters?" the alpha werewolf demanded. "It's an illusion that light flew off that man like a fu..." he gritted his teeth, calmed his language with an effort "...like a _freaking_ ball of flame?"

Before I could answer, one of the werewolves who'd ridden in a different vehicle called toward us from the far side of the underpass. "Everything okay, boss?" Apparently our current altercation had grown loud enough to impinge upon the other werewolves' search of the surrounding landscape. And from the way the male's eyes bit into me like daggers, he agreed with Liam that a stranger shouldn't be trusted with secrets more appropriate to pack.

But Gunner was too intent upon our conversation to give his underling's warning the air space it deserved. "I'm fine. Now go," Gunner responded, biting off the words so sharply that his underling's scent of submission overwhelmed even the nearby stench of death.

Despite the clear sign that he was taking his frustration one step too far, though, the alpha's eyes never left mine even as rustlings in the bushes promised all other shifters were hastily relocating into safer territory far from potential reprimand. And, once we were even more alone than previously, the alpha's voice turned ten times quieter while its intensity ratcheted up in equal measure. " _Explain,_ " he ordered for my ears alone.

The compulsion would have drawn a flood of words out of a submissive werewolf, but my fox heritage cut the command's effects down to a mere itch atop my skin. Still, I didn't like being threatened, and I didn't like the way Gunner's hands turned into manacles biting into my upper arms either. So I found myself spitting out inappropriate comments without passing the idea first by the more rational centers of my brain.

"What makes you think those are Japanese symbols? Maybe they're Chinese. Or Korean. What, you took one look at my slanty eyes and assumed I was a geisha? Racist much?"

I'd found that most Caucasians grew stymied by the assertion that prejudice colored their thinking. Gunner, unfortunately, turned out to be the exception that proved the rule. "No circles or ovals, no complicated symbols," he growled, calling my bluff with knowledge that exceeded my own. "So the symbols weren't Chinese or Korean. They were Japanese, just like you."

Japanese like all fox shifters. Japanese like the bane of werewolves' existence. I shivered, wondering for the first time whether Gunner's interest in me had ever been attraction or if he'd been suspicious of my heritage from the moment we first met.

For his part, Gunner paused for only a moment, pushing further into my personal space until his nose nearly touched my suddenly sweaty forehead. "If you have nothing to hide," my companion murmured, his gravelly voice turning almost sweet with anticipation, "then show me your necklace thing so I can compare it to what was on the dead man's chest."

As if he expected there to be blood stains on the amulet. Or for the "necklace thing" to have gone missing during the several hours in which the corpse at our feet turned from living being into so much dead meat.

Unfortunately, I couldn't think of another way to get Gunner's hands off me. He'd proven already that I couldn't outfight him once his vise-like fingers bit down. And my vulpine disinclination to being constrained was already making it hard to breathe....

So I fought to keep my inhales steady, hoping the night was dark enough to hide both the red on my cheeks and the fist-sized mass I magically yanked out of the sword sheathed by my side. Only when the amulet materialized around my neck with a near-audible pop of displaced air particles did I wince, the ice of its recently used magic burning against my skin.

"It's an _amulet_ ," I informed the handsy alpha, pulling the heavy circle out from beneath my clothing while subtly pushing my companion just a little further away. "And it looks nothing like what was on that dead man's chest. The symbols must have been all Japanese to you."

Gunner ignored my weak attempt at humor, and he didn't give me time to pull the chain over my head either. Instead, his huge hand swiped the amulet out of my grasp, tilting it to take in the distant glow of passing headlights while drawing my neck closer to his own. "Hmmm," he murmured, seemingly oblivious to our heart-pounding proximity.

Well, if he could stick to business then so could I. To that end, I let my gaze brush over the raised symbols that covered the amulet's surface, wishing I wasn't so sure that the hash-marked lines _did_ indeed match up to the ones that had recently disappeared from the dead man's chest. But before the overbearing alpha could debrief me further, another werewolf emerged out of the darkness inches from my left side.

"You'll want to see this, boss," the newcomer murmured, eyes narrowing only slightly as he took in my proximity to his alpha. "There's a footprint on the east side of the overpass. Scentless, small, but most definitely made by a wolf."

# Chapter Sixteen

I could feel both my job...and possibly my skin-protecting secrets...slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I clenched said appendages into fists. Still, I stretched my legs to catch up as the two werewolves ahead of me strode up the steep hillside with complete disregard for darkness.

"I hear you, Allen," Gunner said, answering a murmur that I hadn't been able to make out as I lagged, trying to tease out the third shifter's signature scent. Allen was one of the males who'd ridden in the back seat of the SUV during the drive over, I gathered. Given how easily the trio had teased Gunner then, it was hard to imagine what might have provoked such a cool reaction from his boss now.

Giving up on the puzzle, I broke into a trot and broke out of the thicket just a step behind as the werewolves paused in an open area where a metal drainage pipe produced a flat, muddy area perfect for capturing passing animals' tracks. "But I've decided," Gunner continued, flicking a single glance in my direction that suggested I'd been the topic of conversation. Then his eyebrows rose, a clear signal that whatever conversation I'd missed was now over and done.

Shrugging, Allen got down to business, shining a flashlight between us to reveal indents of bird toes, pinpricks of insect feet...and one perfectly formed canine print just at the edge of the mud slick. The animal had traveled up the slope since the last rainfall, lacking the savvy to skirt around the muddy spot. As a result, its passing had been recorded as perfectly as any fossilized dinosaur track imprinted in Jurassic clay.

So, yes, the print definitely existed. Still, I couldn't imagine why Gunner's underling was so certain the imprint represented the foot of a werewolf. After all, its moderate size would have more closely matched a domestic canine like a Labrador retriever...or possibly a very large fox.

Did I mention that fox shifters out-mass the wild version by quite a wide margin? Kneeling down beside the track, I found my fingers stretching toward what might very well be the first sign of an unrelated fox shifter that I'd ever come in contact with.

"Don't touch that!" My hand was slapped back so abruptly I didn't even feel the sting before the shifter who had drawn us here began pointing out clues to his eagle-eyed alpha. "There's no scent," Allen informed us unnecessarily. "Note the white lines where baking soda stuck to his pads...."

"Or _her_ pads," Gunner interjected, his voice so cold I cringed back away from his menacing form. Gone was the thoughtful protector who'd helped me stifle my sneezing only a few minutes earlier. Instead, Gunner had regressed into exactly the sort of terror-inducing alpha I'd assumed him to be at our first meeting.

So maybe I'd guessed wrong about Allen objecting to my presence. Perhaps Gunner was the one who wanted me gone ASAP.

"Yeah, I _guess_ so," the lower-ranking shifter agreed, eyes lowered in instinctive submission as he responded to the same cues that triggered my own urge for flight. Still, the underling's tone didn't match his body language, the emphasis on "guess" suggesting he considered a female killer a profoundly unlikely hypothesis.

And after a moment of skin-saving silence, the male proved his courage by speaking up once again. "Should I run to the store for some plaster of Paris?" he asked, his voice becoming increasingly animated as Gunner's reproof faded from his memory. "I can take a casting to compare to the feet of shifters around town...."

For the first time in several minutes, I was tempted to smile. There was something so geeky about the enthusiasm infusing the underling's voice. As if arts and crafts were far more interesting than the blood and gore of a crime scene. He seemed to be envisioning a Cinderella-like hunt for our perpetrator...albeit with a much less fairy-tale ending. How surprisingly un-werewolf-like of him.

Unfortunately, Gunner shut the initiative down with the verbal equivalent of a slap. "No," the alpha growled, voice brooking no further debate. "We've learned all there is to learn here. Wrap it up and head back to base. I'm taking Mai home."

So I got back into the vehicle with a surly werewolf...this time without the added buffer of teasing pack mates watching from the back seat. Only my problem wasn't the expected inability to run away from an angry alpha. Instead, Gunner opened my door like a gentleman then hesitated there on the roadside rather than slamming the barrier shut in my face.

"About earlier," he started. Then, running one hand through his hair, he shook his head as if his behavior was far too complicated to explain verbally.

"Gunner?" I asked when the silence between us had lengthened to awkward levels, half a dozen vehicles having whizzed past us on the highway. I only realized this was the first time I'd used his name aloud when my companion's scent shifted to dewy pleasure seconds before the door closed between us with a firm yet gentle snick.

Then the male was in the seat beside me, was pulling out into traffic as he headed in the direction of my neighborhood without bothering to ask where I lived. He'd clearly researched my statistics in the time we'd spent apart this afternoon. Which should have chilled me...but instead created a warm puddle of pleasure centering around the bottom of my gut.

"You need to get home to your sister," Gunner said finally, deftly switching lanes to zip past a slow-moving vehicle. "So I guess that gives us nine and a half minutes to discuss your pay rate."

"My pay rate?"

For the first time since entering the vehicle, I swiveled to face the confusing male beside me, not daring to hope that I'd heard him right. Because, possible two-sided attraction aside, I'd blown it multiple times over the course of our job-interview-turned-criminal-investigation. Why would Gunner still want me on his team?

"Funds provided for services rendered," the alpha elaborated, his tone turning honey smooth. Well, if Gunner was going to be flirtatious...then I could afford to push whatever slim advantage I might possess.

I cleared my throat then launched into the bare truth. "I need more than cash under the table," I informed him, the dour face of Kira's social worker rising up in my mind's eye. "I need a job description that sounds conventional and dependable, a weekly paycheck that I can report to Social Services. And I need seven thousand dollars on top of that, up front, to pay for Kira's school."

My requests were outrageous, but Gunner merely shrugged, taking one hand off the wheel long enough to toss his phone into my lap. "The passcode is 9653," he told me. "Text Allen and tell him what you need."

It was a good thing A came at the beginning of the alphabet, because Gunner's address book contained more contacts than I was likely to muster in ten lifetimes. Still, when I found the appropriate entry, I had to laugh. Because the plaster-of-Paris werewolf was apparently Gunner's accountant too.

"Tell him what you told me," Gunner prodded as my fingers hovered over the phone's touchscreen, unwilling to repeat my demands in print. "Five minutes until we arrive at our destination," he warned.

So I typed. I added a link to the payment portal for the academy, the email address of my least favorite social worker, and an explanation that it was me sending the text with Gunner's consent.

And the whole time I was doing so, a slender sliver of wishful thinking made me imagine what it might be like to revoke my outcast status, to have friends ready and willing to come to my aid. Perhaps that's why I knocked the previously requested seven thousand down to six thousand—surely I could come up with an extra grand from Arena fights before the deadline. It just seemed pushy to ask for so much money when my new employer was taking time out of his busy schedule to run me all the way home.

Not that the drive was a hardship in such a high-class vehicle. The faintest smile lingered on Gunner's lips when I glanced in his direction, and the SUV's brakes were silent as we pulled to a halt in front of my apartment complex seconds after I hit send. But Gunner stilled me with a hand on my arm before I could reach over to open the door and emerge from the vehicle.

"Your sister's sleeping," he noted, nodding toward the darkened window three floors above our far-too-close-together heads. "She won't know the difference if you come run with the pack tonight. I can get you home before dawn."

And with his attention turned directly upon me, the magnetism of Gunner's proximity flowed between us like the glowing magic of a star ball. I could imagine his fingers sliding across my cheekbone, his lips settling at the pulsing indentation at the base of my throat. There was so much more to this alpha than mere physical attraction. He was protective, funny, kind...

...And dangerous. So dangerous I didn't even trust myself to answer aloud as I shook my head and pushed my way out the door.

"Tomorrow then," Gunner answered before the metal barrier slipped out of my fingers and cut him off from view.

Then I was sprinting toward the dimly lit entrance of a building that suddenly felt more like a fox's underground and secretive lair than like a human's welcoming and airy residence. It took all the self-control I could muster not to turn my head and look back.

# Chapter Seventeen

I made it up two flights of stairs before the werewolves ambushed me. Was already dreaming of my sofa bed, in fact, imagining warm sheets and soft pillows while pretending there wasn't a hard bar that always ended up poking into the middle of my back. Then, in the midst of that waking hallucination, three sleek-furred four-leggers slid out of the shadows, ruffs raised and lips curled as they growled me back in the direction from which I'd come.

"Really?" I demanded, my voice a hiss as I tried to vent my displeasure without waking sleeping residents. "What do you want?"

A louder rebuttal might have done the job better. But knowing my sister, the girl would come running out of our apartment in her nightshirt if she heard a commotion. Plus, heaven forbid one of the complex's human residents stumbled out of their own residence then called the police upon sighting three wolves attacking a women so close to their home turf....

The image of Kira and cops and werewolves all mixed up into one steaming stew of catastrophe was enough to prevent me from resisting as I was herded downstairs past the entrance I'd come in through and toward the basement where a second exit opened onto the alley out back. There, though, I hesitated rather than pushing the heavy fire door open even though one of my herders lunged forward to nip at the air beside my knee.

After all, nothing good ever came out of that secluded cesspool by the dumpsters. Rushing out now with three werewolves at my back and nothing but darkness before me felt far too much like walking into a trap....

Luckily, I was now far enough away from both sister and human residents that I could afford to make a little noise. So I resisted the wolves' nudges and peered around me instead.

On my right was the laundry room, on the left was the resident storage area, and not a single human ear was close enough to hear what was about to go down. Which meant now was the perfect time to whirl and kick out at the closest shifter, grinning when he yelped at the bruise to both his dignity and to his sensitive nose.

"Back up," I gritted from between clenched teeth, dodging just in time to bypass the shifter leaping toward my unprotected neck from the other side. So maybe these werewolves weren't just here to mess with me? Maybe they were aiming for a more final end to our engagement than that?

Well, that put an entirely different spin on matters. I hadn't been willing to indulge in full-scale battle to salvage wounded pride, but I'd do a lot to protect my own skin.

Unfortunately, half of my star ball still hung around my neck where I'd left it to avert Gunner's suspicion. Which meant the sword I pulled out of its sheathe was really only half a sword, the jagged tip menacing but the internal structure flawed by its recent loss of mass. The weapon would be as likely to shatter as to stab if I thrust it into an attacking shifter....

Of course, the three wolves leaping toward me as a single unit didn't have to know that. So I bought time with pageantry, whirling the sword in complicated circles while adding in kicks and leaps possessing no function beyond looking pretty and—I hoped—intimidating my trio of foes.

All I needed was a few seconds to strengthen the metal of my sword, a few seconds to bring its molecules back into alignment....

Ah. There.

The weapon still lacked a tip, but now it rang with resilience as I tested its prowess against one of the metal bars separating the hallway from the storage room. And my opponents must have sensed the change in my body posture, because they abruptly backed away from the true menace glinting out of my eyes.

Until, that is, the fire door disappeared behind me. And before I could dodge, a hard male arm settled vise-like across my chest.

The scent of alpha werewolf burned like ammonia against the exposed membranes of my nostrils, and yet I found myself relaxing rather than further tensing up. Because while this wasn't the best opponent to grab me in a near chokehold, he wasn't the worst either. "Jackal," I greeted the male behind my back.

I expected the werewolf to release me, having fulfilled whatever charade he was playing out for the sake of his men. But, instead, he pulled me in closer, the subtle slide of fingers across my fabric-covered breasts suggested I wasn't quite out of the woods just yet.

And while I was willing to go quite a distance for the sake of public appearances, groping was where I drew the line. So I pulled at my star ball's magic ever so subtly, sharpening one of the buttons on my jacket until the metal boasted a razor edge. The next time my assailant's finger slid in that general direction....

Jackal stumbled backwards, a much larger cut than I'd intended splitting open the pad of his thumb. "What the—?" he started. Then, recalling our rapt audience, he straightened from his attempt to peer at my fastener, running out his tongue instead to take one long lick along his own bleeding wound.

Within seconds, crimson stained a grinning mouthful of wolf-sharp fangs while fur sprang out in a circle around both of his eyes. The male was seconds away from shifting. And, predictably, his show of bestial dominance knocked the other werewolves off the trail of any potential weakness, sending them stumbling over each other as they retreated from us both.

I, on the other hand, had been busy figuring out how to wrangle a decent conversation without our audience turning Jackal into even more of a dick than he usually was. "If you'll excuse us for a moment...." I told the room at large, batting my eyelashes as flirtatiously as I could manage. Then I grabbed Jackal's lapels and drew him into the laundry room, kicking the door closed behind our backs. A quarter in the dryer, and soon I was confident that we could speak without being overheard.

"What do you want now?" I demanded, dropping all pretense at toadying up to the male I usually thought of as one of my few allies within my home turf. "I'm tired. Tell me whatever you have to tell me, then let me get some sleep."

I expected a request or a warning, not the ammonia-scented rage that came rolling off Jackal in waves. "You're playing with fire, pup," he told me. And even though there were no underlings present, he pushed in closer, glaring down at me with teeth that were still as sharp as any wolf's. "Being seen entering the Atwood mansion after dark then leaving with that filth. What were you thinking? No wolf waltzes in here and takes over my town and my girl."

The emphatic words rolled around in my head like so many pinballs, knocking down my defenses and abruptly pushing any soothing response out of my reach. "But it's _their_ territory, not yours," I countered. "Just because they've been staying close to home for the last decade doesn't mean they don't have dibs on this land."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll change that fact," Jackal answered back just as fast. His fingers were similarly speedy when he yanked a cell phone out of his pocket, tilting the screen so I could look over the crook of his elbow and catch photo after photo of my sister's smiling face.

Kira out behind the school with no one to protect her except clawless humans. Kira walking to the corner store, a time stamp proving her expedition had occurred this evening after I'd explicitly warned her to stay at home.

The pictures were a visceral reminder that my kid sister could either be helped or harmed by this werewolf who depended upon my supposed romantic interest to solidify his precarious grasp on power. The trouble was, I couldn't just lock Kira away in her room to keep her safe.

"You've enjoyed years of protection," Jackal told me as I rearranged my understanding of the situation, realizing too late that this male I'd thought my staunch ally was both more fickle and more dangerous than he'd initially appeared. "Now it's time for you to pony up. Get rid of those trespassers by the end of the week or I'll be forced to transfer my affections to a more malleable female. Your sister, I think, might just do the trick."

# Chapter Eighteen

Anger and fear carried me back up the same flights of stairs I'd traversed twice already in the last half hour. Rage turned my key in the apartment's lock and powered me through the darkened room on fox-soft feet. But once I tiptoed up to Kira's bed and found the girl snoring on her pillow, the events of the night all caught up with me at once.

An intriguing—and far too astute—alpha. A well-named Jackal nipping at the heels of those stronger than himself. A serial killer on the loose who appeared to possess my mother's missing possessions. And Kira, caught in the middle, with only me to defend her from the horrors of the outside world.

At least I still had my sword...and whatever information I could glean by tapping into my neighbor's unprotected wireless connection.

To that end, I booted up the laptop so ancient it had been discarded as useless by Kira's school a semester earlier. The power cord was frayed and only worked if bent at just the right angle—I folded the appropriate loop into place and tacked it down against the kitchen table with the weight of the computer itself. Similarly, the right-hand hinge was broken from being manhandled by one too many students, so I had to use two hands when opening the screen so as not to damage the machine beyond repair.

Finally, though, I had a browser in front of me, the colors blinding against the darkness of the otherwise unlit room. Tapping F9 with a fox's instinct for stealth, I continued dimming the screen until I was able to see again using my peripheral vision. Only then did I begin to type.

Luckily for me, Kira had saved passwords on the same device I was currently accessing. So it was the work of only a few minutes to discover that Mama's possessions had been sold off in three batches to three separate buyers. The closest purchaser was in Michigan, the furthest in California, and the amulet had been included in the latter lot.

It seemed hard to believe that someone had traveled halfway across the country to return items I'd considered junk to their original location then had used the self-same amulet to commit murder in a manner seemingly designed to implicate werewolves after the fact. Still, the listing was one of the few leads I'd come up with to date, so I noted down each address and Ebay handle to be analyzed once my brain was less desperately in need of sleep.

By that point, my eyelids were starting to slide closed and I knew I'd hate myself in the morning for failing to go to bed in a timely manner. Still, there were so many questions circling through my mind that I doubted my ability to sleep even if I succumbed to my current state of exhaustion.

Specifically, I wanted to know more about fox shifters, to answer the questions Kira had recently been asking. Mama had sworn me to secrecy as soon as I was old enough to say my own name, and I'd somehow carried that promise through to adulthood. But what could it hurt to google the concept and find out what the wider world knew about my kind? What would it hurt to educate myself about my abilities as well as the risks that threatened my sister and me?

So I pulled the screen closer toward me, placed my hands on the keyboard...then swore under my breath as the formerly lit surface went abruptly blank.

"I know better than that," I berated myself while fiddling with a funky hinge full of rather important cables. Had I pulled out an internal wire while trying to make the words on the screen a little easier to read? Or did the cranky laptop just need a little TLC to bring it back to life?

Only after several minutes of frustration did I realize that it wasn't the hinge that had caused the problem in the first place. Instead, my touch to the upper corner of the laptop had caused the power cord to unravel...and of course the battery no longer held a charge.

_4:44_ read the glowing numbers in the upper right-hand corner of the rejuvenated screen when the operating system finally booted back up. I waited for my mother to toss out a proverb about bad luck. After all, I remembered her warning me repeatedly as a child about the ill-fated nature of the number four.

But her ghost voice remained silent. So I pushed the memory aside, typing in my query with two fingers and a thumb.

"What are fox shifters?" I whispered aloud as words slowly materialized on the screen before me. And Google answered immediately, a single word popping up in a box above all other search results.

_"Kitsune."_ The foreign word sent a jolt through the star-ball-turned-sword still scabbarded at my back. But when I nudged at my mother's ghost, she remained resolutely silent.

Well, if Mama wasn't going to explain my genealogy, then I'd have to do research on my own. Because familial secrets had already killed two innocent humans. For all I knew, Kira and I were next.

So I clicked through to the first website and slowly I began to read.

Sometime before dawn, I collapsed onto the softest bed in our apartment...the one that already contained my comatose sister. "Ge' offme," Kira complained, words running together muzzily. Then she growled sleepily as my cold fingers snuck up against her warm scalp to thaw.

"So shift," I answered only a little less groggily. There had been so many stories on the internet, myth and supposed fact and tales labeled modern fiction. Kitsune were Japanese fox shifters—that part I could vouch for myself. But were we tricksters who only appeared human in moonlight? Or beautiful and loyal women whose reflections showcased the fox within? So many stories, and none of them seemed to reference an amulet able to suck a human's life force out of his body then leave said two-legger with a miniature star ball frozen into his chest.

So I took the easy way out and decided to deal with my heritage tomorrow. Instead of mulling over the issue further, I snuggled closer to my sister, waiting for her to pull upon her fur form and make a little extra space for me on the bed. After all, the bar in the sofa bed was brutal. I ended up here more often than not, and Kira was always willing to shift and snuggle.

Only, apparently, she was feeling argumentative tonight. " _You_ shift," my sister countered, sounding more awake than previously as she elbowed me in the kidneys. Her bones were sharp and her tone was surprisingly adamant, so this time I shrugged and obeyed.

One moment I was a women frozen and exhausted, mind running in endless circles that all centered around the child hugged within my arms. The next, I was a fox, moist nose the only part of me exposed to the chilly air in our barely-heated apartment. Tucking my snout beneath my tail solved that problem, and soon I was as toasty as if Kira had let me under the covers in the first place. This was the life....

With that thought, I drifted off and slept the sleep of an innocent animal. The bed was soft, my sister was close, and vague threats could be dealt with at a later date.

Too bad "later" came far too prematurely when the kitchen door crashed open and werewolves poured into our previously solitary den.

# Chapter Nineteen

_Laptop, fox, sister._ Three potential weaknesses, none of which I could currently guard against displaying to the outside world. Not when my own body represented the second danger, my red fur glimmering in the full-noon sunlight that bathed our small but well-lit room.

Kira, on the other hand, was currently human and quite capable of diving directly into muddy waters without measuring the distance to rock bottom first. "What are you doing here?" she demanded while stalking toward our uninvited guests in half-dressed tween splendor. "Have you ever heard of knocking? Didn't you realize a locked door means _Keep out_?"

I itched to protect rather than hide and continue being protected, but rationality pushed me flat against the bed instead. Because if these werewolves became aware of my identity, they'd know what Kira was as well....

A heart that always beat faster in vulpine form now pounded so hard against my throat that I could barely breathe. Meanwhile, the rumpled covers that stood between me and discovery felt far thinner than they had in the darkness last night.

_Kira, get back here!_ I wanted to scream the words, wanted to drag my sister out of harm's way. But all I actually managed was a twitch of my whiskers before an unexpectedly familiar voice soothed the worst of the terror out of my skin.

"I apologize, ma'am." I sighed out the reediest whine of relief as I realized this was Allen, Gunner's geekiest assistant. Still a werewolf and perhaps suspicious of me...but at least not currently slavering after my blood.

"We tried to call and we tried to knock," the male continued, unaware of my near meltdown, "but there was no answer. Gunner was concerned something might have happened, so he gave us permission to force entry. If you want to put on some clothes and get your sister, we'll wait...."

Terror gradually gave way to curiosity, allowing me to sniff the air and assess the situation more fully. Astonishingly, embarrassment was the key emotion rolling off these home-invading werewolves. So I risked a peek around a corner of my cover barricade, noting the way Allen looked at everything other than my sister while his cheeks turned from faintly flushed to boiled-beet red.

Aw. A baby-doll nightie on an underage female was apparently a better weapon than the one I itched to grasp into my not-yet-present hand. Kira _was_ rather well developed for a twelve year old....

Still, Allen wasn't the only werewolf present. There were two bulky shifters behind him, one of whom seemed far more interested in his cell phone than in his surroundings. The other, though, was nosing around the laptop I'd been using as night faded into morning, the exact same device I couldn't quite remember shutting down properly before I stumbled off to bed.

Had the browser still been up when I abandoned the computer? Would the screen flicker to life full of damning evidence if Nosy's fingers hit the proper key sequence? Now more than ever, I needed Kira to close the bedroom door so I could regain my humanity and shut this party down....

And as if I'd called her attention to me by the force of willpower alone, my sister swiveled slightly to glance in my direction. Then her head tilted in a query I hoped was too subtle for the werewolves to make out.

_The door,_ I tried to communicate with widened eyes and flaring nostrils. And the motion must have caught Allen's attention, because he took a step forward...only to disappear from view as Kira got the message and slammed the much-needed barrier between uninvited werewolves and myself.

"Mai's in the bathroom," my sister prattled as I yanked hard on my magic, shifting in less than a second into shivering human form. _Clothes, clothes, clothes_ , I reminded myself, hopping into yesterday's wrinkled outerwear without bothering to don undergarments first. After all, forming the brilliant ball of frigid magic currently streaming out of my body into sword form was more important than panties if my goal was rushing to my sister's aid.

"Nobody's in _this_ bathroom," Allen was saying as I pushed my way out into the kitchen-living-room combo.

"Well, we've got two," my sister lied through her teeth.

And before the accountant could argue about the unlikelihood of a one-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment, I was shoving my sister behind my back and slamming the laptop screen down inches from Nosy's furtive fingers. I think I heard the hinge crack all the way through in the process. But as best I could tell, no secrets had as yet been revealed.

"I'm here. My sister is none of your business," I told them. Then, dividing my glare equally between all three werewolf faces: "Now get out of our house."

"This isn't a house, actually," Allen countered. "More like an apartment. Or, if you're British, a flat."

"Your lips are moving but your feet aren't," I observed, doing my best to usher all three werewolves toward the open door via physical intimidation alone. Unfortunately, Allen was the smallest of the three shifters and even he topped me by a good six inches at a conservative guess. No wonder none of the werewolves budged in response to my attempted loom.

The phone-obsessed shifter, on the other hand, _did_ deign to speak...even though his eyes remained glued to his cell screen. "Boss says to tell chica here that he's tied up at the moment but that he'll see her this evening. In the meantime, she's in charge of the investigation today."

I was in charge of three home-breaking werewolves? Something didn't quite add up. "What were Gunner's exact words?" I demanded, angling closer in hopes I could see what was so engrossing about that tiny screen.

"I don't think..." Phone Dude hemmed. At which point Nosy snatched the device out of his pack mate's hand and read the contents aloud.

" _Tell Mai I'm busy measuring my brother's cock. Back tonight. Until then, she's the boss."_

"Told you it wasn't appropriate for the ears of a lady," Phone Dude grumbled.

"What could be more appropriate for a lady than cock measuring?" Nosy countered.

"Crow, Tank, that's _enough_."

And while I should have been laughing right along with Kira at Allen's attempt to squash his pack mates' hilarity, something warm began unfurling in my stomach instead.

_"You know what they say about a guy with small feet,"_ I'd teased two nights prior at the Arena. No wonder Gunner had turned so grumpy yesterday evening when we stumbled across an extra-small canine track near the site of the murder. Had the alpha really taken my jab so literally? And if he believed Ransom to be responsible for the killing...why would Gunner risk his most important relationship by relaying that information to a near stranger like me?

Those questions could be dealt with later. For now—"If I'm in charge, then let's investigate," I said at last, trying not to read too much into Gunner's show of trust. Yet again, I waved my hands toward the still-open door leading into the hallway...and yet again no one bothered to so much as shuffle their feet in the indicated direction.

"Sure thing, bossette," Nosy—aka Crow—answered. "Just tell us who's gonna stay here to take care of the kid and the rest of us will be on our way."

As I glanced at three waiting faces, I realized this must have been yet another order meted out by their absent leader. And while I would have scoffed at Gunner's over-protectiveness yesterday, in light of Jackal's recent comments I found myself both relieved and ready to accept.

"Allen can stay," I decided, figuring the smartest werewolf was also the one least likely to lose track of Kira if she got it into her head to play hide and seek with her bodyguard. Then, turning to my sister, I laid down the law. "You've got enough homework to keep you busy all day," I informed her. "I want to see you parked on the sofa when I get home."

Kira glanced at me, raised an eyebrow, then turned the full force of her charm upon her designated keeper. "Wanna learn a magic trick?" she asked Allen, tilting her head down until she was peering up from between dark lashes. "I'm excellent at making things disappear."

I turned to the door to hide my smile. Allen would be lucky if he made it out of this babysitting session with wallet and dignity intact.

# Chapter Twenty

I didn't remember what day it was until hours later. Friday. The last work day of the week, when fights began early and crowds at the Arena doubled in size. I couldn't afford to miss the match this evening, not when the whole point of Wednesday's loss had been setting up a resounding Friday win.

Which gave me a limited window in which to discharge the duties of my new day job then get rid of Tank and Crow. Unfortunately, neither task looked like it was going to be easy to accomplish in haste.

"Well that was a waste of time," I groused once we'd finished nosing around the crime-scene site a second time and had returned to cruising down random city streets. Given the lack of information found at the now-cleaned-up underpass, I was beginning to think Gunner had hoped I'd spend the day spinning my wheels with the sole purpose of taking the heat off his own spur-of-the-moment trip.

And I would have been glad to oblige if I'd thought Ransom was the culprit. Unfortunately, that conclusion seemed dramatically premature. From the little bit I'd seen of the Atwood pack leader, Ransom was hotheaded and not a terribly good fighter...but none of that added up to a serial killer using Ebay-purchased heirlooms to somehow magic humans to death. I mean—what was the point? And did Ransom really possess the gumption to figure out a puzzle that continued to elude my own grasp?

Not likely. Which meant there was an actual miscreant on the loose in my city. And from the way Tank and Crow peered at me like puppy dogs expecting their master to pull a bag of treats out of her pocket, it was up to me to guide the exploration onto the proper path.

"I think we should take a look at the original body," I decided aloud, feeling my way through potential alternative avenues of investigation. After all, what better way to track down the twisted personality we were seeking than to assess his initial foray into life taking? Maybe there was a magical signature on his body that the werewolves had missed....

Unfortunately, my supposed backup turned into minders as soon as I spat out an actual game plan. "No can do," Crow said tersely, swinging into a fast-food drive-through. Then, completely changing the subject from what we were meant to be discussing: "Anybody else want a snack?"

Tank looked up from his cell phone long enough to shoot off a list of items that amounted to half a cow plus an extra-large potato field. Crow ordered all of the above plus enough sugar to rot out his teeth. And I tacked on a grilled chicken sandwich, hold the mayonnaise, plus a large ice water on the side.

"What?" I demanded once we were parked and eating. Or, rather, once _I_ was eating. The guys just stared at me from beneath their mountains of food as if I'd grown an extra arm.

"You don't have to pretend to be human around us, chica," Tank told me after a moment. He patted me on the head as if _I_ was the puppy...which made it hard not to snap at his patronizing hand.

"Here, have some of my fries," Crow added, holding out the cardboard carton...then pulling it back before I had time to so much as shake my head. "Or...Tank can go back in and get you your own fries maybe. Boss won't be happy if you faint from lack of food."

I scrunched my eyes shut, astonished at how drastically the reality of werewolves differed from my expectations. Here I'd spent decades shivering at werewolf shadows only to find that the sole threat from their presence was death by frustration...or perhaps exploding when I followed their lead and ate way too much.

"I have food," I growled once I finally trusted myself enough to speak. Then, remembering what I'd asked before Crow sidetracked me, I pressed my earlier point. "We _can't_ go see the body? Or you _won't_ take me there?"

"Can't," Tank answered.

"Won't," Crow added.

Both males spoke with their mouths full, and I had to avert my eyes before I was willing to take a bite of my own lunch. "Explain," I ordered after chewing and swallowing. Single words sometimes worked with Kira. Perhaps similar simplicity would do the trick while attempting to whip my unlikely assistants into shape.

Sure enough, the males seemed willing enough to expand upon their earlier answers when pinned down. "We disposed of it," Tank elaborated. "Weighed it down and sunk it in the middle of the river. Can't have pesky bodies floating around for the human cops to find."

"Plus, the boss said to keep you safe," Crow added once his partner had finished. "First murder was two weeks ago. That corpse has moved on from dead to wrigglin', if you know what I mean."

I _did_ know what he meant. And suddenly the grainy texture of the reconstituted chicken meat in front of me looked far too much like maggots for my peace of mind.

Closing the paper wrapper back up around the rest of my sandwich, I did my best to hold onto my temper. "So what _are_ we allowed to do today?"

"Investigate," Crow answered.

"Drive around and look for shit," Tank suggested.

The pair had somehow managed to scarf down 99% of their lunch while I was nibbling through a quarter of my own small meal. Now, Crow pulled back onto the road, one last double bacon cheeseburger in his hand...well, until he shoved the entire thing into his mouth that is. "Where to, bossette?" the long-haired shifter asked around chunks of beef and pork.

As if I was the one actually in charge of this disaster. And as if we weren't wasting precious hours when I had better things to do...like preparing for a very lucrative fight.

"Turn right," I decided. "Then left at the stoplight...."

In short order, I'd found what I was looking for. A thoroughfare so packed that parking was unlikely within a ten-block radius. Even slowing down here would risk the driver's life...or at least the structural integrity of his wheels.

Which is when I opened my door and leapt from the moving vehicle, ignoring the shouts of distress behind me and the blaring of nearby horns. Sprinting for an alley, I barely caught Tank's recriminations before I shook the pesky babysitters off my tail.

"Chica! The boss won't like this!" the burly shifter howled.

But "the boss" was far too engrossed in determining whether his brother was a murderer to worry about me at the moment. So I slipped behind the awning of a bustling street cafe, ran down a set up steps, sprang over a wall, and was soon back within my comfort zone—entirely on my own.

# Chapter Twenty-One

_"She who chases two rabbits catches neither."_

"And she who talks to the voices in her head gets locked up," I muttered back to my mother's ghost as I wound my way through the unsavory streets of the Warren on the way to my ultimate goal. I'd tugged on as many investigative threads as possible without straying far from my path over the last couple of hours. And, no, I hadn't come up with any blinding flashes of insight in the process. But it was better than trying to do the same work while dragging around two gruffly overprotective werewolves. Plus, I still held out hope that some of the seeds I'd planted might bear fruit...after the upcoming fight.

Now I paused in a shadowy alcove just outside the Arena, hasty fingers running through tangled hair while my magical senses performed the more important preparation—materializing my sword within the sheathe along my spine. The match was due to begin in a matter of minutes, and I didn't need a Japanese proverb to know I'd better get my head into the game before dashing through that door.

So, pushing away Mama's memory, I closed my eyes and focused on Dad's voice instead. My father had fought in the Arena as long as I could remember, and he'd passed along many of his tricks to me. The most important, he'd always asserted, was preparation. _"Before you start fighting,"_ he'd always told me, _"remember to center on your breath."_

Closing my eyes now, I obeyed the oft-repeated admonition. Sucked in a deep lungful of air through my nose then gently relaxed the carbon dioxide away between loosely parted teeth. Whoever Ma Scrubbs had chosen as today's opponent would be more bark than bite. As long as I ignored their bluster, chances were good that I'd win...and pay the rest of Kira's tuition in the process.

"Darkness lies one inch in front of your nose."

My eyelids burst open at Mama's shrill interjection, breath coming faster as I peered around the dim alley in search of potential danger. Her words had seemed so ominous at first blush...but now that I thought about it, I was pretty sure that proverb was merely telling me to expect the unexpected. Perhaps this was Ghost Mama's attempt to help out?

Whatever the reason, I wasn't quite in the zone when I slipped in the back entrance of the Arena moments later. Sure, my sword was in my hand and my muscles were loose and ready. But the roar of the crowd made me wince as I left the shadows behind and walked out under the blinding floodlights.

Meanwhile, the words of the announcer didn't help matters either. "Please welcome Wednesday's competitors back to the Arena! Ladies and gentleman, introducing Mai Fairchild and Ransom Atwood!"

It wasn't Ransom, though, who appeared on the other side of the small cage as my eyes adjusted to the over-illumination. Instead, resembling his brother enough to make the false identity work from a distance, Gunner greeted me with a grin that did odd things to my stomach. Then, taking advantage of my unconscious lean in his general direction, my opponent opened the fight with a forward lunge transitioning into a slashing stroke of the sword clasped in one long-fingered fist.

In response, I dropped to the ground and somersaulted past him, rolling upwards even as the alpha spun to trace my path. I told myself it was just Mama's unhelpful words of encouragement that made Gunner's reappearance hit me like a punch to the gut the moment I set eyes upon him. But his verbal greeting both deepened my reaction and illuminated my lie.

"I was worried," the big, scary alpha told me, a subtle tightening around his eyes suggesting he was actually telling the truth even though his sword continued to parry mine stroke for stroke. "Crow and Tank called two hours ago. Said you'd slipped your leash. The whole pack's been tearing the city apart ever since. I figured you could take care of yourself. But..."—he feinted then struck at my knees, a blow I easily blocked—"...I'm glad to see your face."

"Aw, you missed me," I countered, finding it easy to keep my words light when my feet felt as if they were walking on rainbows. Taking advantage of the emotion-fueled energy, in fact, I transitioned into one of Dad's favorite combo moves then. Bing, bang, boom. Feint, parry, attack. Gunner must have had more experience with swordsmanship than I'd expected or he would have ended up with a game-ending scratch right then.

Instead, the male proved his prowess by nearly catching me on the rebound, swiping low a second time and forcing me to leap to evade his sword. "I did miss you," he agreed, not even out of breath as he offered a stab that could easily have pierced my stomach lining. "And I'm glad to be back. Not least because we have a mystery to solve."

I inhaled as I twisted sideways, windmilling my arms then using the change in balance to launch my own attack. "I could have told you Ransom's feet weren't that little," I puffed, finally losing a bit of my composure as Gunner's blade caught mine and nearly ripped said object out of my grasp.

The scrape of metal against metal provoked a cheer from bystanders I'd nearly forgotten, widening my tunnel vision at last. The crowd members were standing on their seats now, pounding fists against the cage that locked me and Gunner in. Calls of "Ransom" and "Mai" rang out across the Arena in equal measure, and I wasted half a second hoping Ma Scrubbs was right and fewer watchers had bet in my favor this time around.

Because I was going to win. Never mind what a smirking Gunner thought as a flick of his wrist ripped my sword away to send it flying toward the chain link behind my back. My opponent might be bigger and stronger. But I needed the cash far more than he did...and I'd never promised to fight fair.

So even as the sword left my fingers, I sucked as hard as I could against the retreating magic, feeling icy tentacles sliding into the darkness up my sleeve. The shell of my former weapon clanged dully against the cage wall even as I formed a slightly smaller rapier in the same sheathe the original sword had occupied five minutes earlier.

"Never bet against a Fairchild," I told Gunner. At the same time, I reached behind my back to grab the replacement blade even as I danced forward to swipe the tiniest pinprick of a line above my opponent's brow.

If he'd seen the move coming, he could have dodged or even parried. But Gunner had thought I was out of weapons. So he stood like a rock, the widening of his eyes nearly as satisfying as the adulation of the crowd.

Unlike Gunner, I knew how to play to my audience. So I turned, bowed, turned again. And I would have bowed yet another time had I not caught a glimpse of an unexpectedly familiar face pressing up against the chain-link door.

" _She's gone_ ," Allen mouthed, face as white as mine was suddenly growing. The accountant didn't need to elaborate for me to realize he referred to the girl I'd left in his charge several hours earlier.

Someone had snatched Kira right out from under my nose.

# Chapter Twenty-Two

"Mai, wait!"

I ignored both Gunner's command and the rational knowledge that my sister might have just slipped her leash the same way I'd done a few hours earlier. Because I trusted my gut, and my gut told me Kira wouldn't risk throwing off my game on fight night just because she felt cooped up in our apartment with a werewolf babysitter.

No, if Allen was unable to find my sister, that meant someone had taken the child against her will.

So, delaying only long enough to swipe my now-hollow sword off the ground, I sprinted out of the cage and toward the nearest exit. Behind me, I could hear the alpha debriefing his underling. And while Allen's quiet words were swallowed up by the noise of the crowd, I didn't need to hear answers to Gunner's increasingly frantic "Where?" and "Who?" and "How do you know?" to send me in the right direction.

Jackal had threatened my sister yesterday and now Kira had disappeared. I knew precisely where to look to get her back.

Getting there, however, was another matter entirely. Hard elbows and heavy feet pummeled my extremities as I forced my way through a sea of human bodies that seemed uninterested in parting to let me through. And for once, I regretted being smaller than average. Because one glance over my shoulder proved that Gunner was having no problem keeping pace, the werewolf's bulk preventing the tide of humanity from sucking him under the way it threatened to do me. Too bad he wasn't willing to act as a battering ram to help me achieve my destination in a timely manner.

In fact, Gunner was not only failing to help, he was actively working against me. Or so it seemed seconds later when raised hairs on the back of my neck proved that the alpha had closed the gap between us just as a hand on my shoulder swung me around to face back in the direction from which I'd come.

"Mai, I know you're worried. But you can't run off half-cocked before we figure out what's happening...."

Werewolf platitudes. I bared my teeth, wondering if the surprise of fangs piercing flesh would be enough to remove the restraining hand so I could continue on my way....

Then a human larger even than Gunner was looming over me. The newcomer's bulk pushed the alpha backwards before the latter even realized what was happening, at which point a wad of folded bills slipped from the human's fingers into my own beneath the eddies of the crowd.

"She doesn't need to talk to me?" I asked the doorman, surprised that Ma Scrubbs was resisting her usual impulse to haggle me down from our agreed-upon percentage. Tonight, though, the sheets of doubled-over paper were an inch thick. And, for once, I had more important matters at hand than pinching pennies and counting every bill.

So I accepted the doorman's silence as implicit agreement then turned and sped through the open tunnel he'd left behind him as he pushed his way through the crowd to reach my side. Breaking out into the alley at last, I breathed in one huge gulp of much-needed oxygen. And, finally, I turned to face the alpha who I still hadn't managed to shake off my tail.

Which, apparently, was a good thing. Because no matter how I poked at the issue, one fox shifter against a couple dozen werewolves wasn't good odds for freeing my sister. So I closed my eyes, sighed, and accepted the inevitable.

"I need your help," I admitted. "Your help, and the help of your most trustworthy men."

" _These_ are your most trustworthy men?"

" _This_ is where you think your sister is being held?"

We were talking at cross-purposes...and, honestly, I could see Gunner's point. The local Walmart didn't top most werewolves' lists for hostage-negotiation venues. Of course, Jackal wasn't most werewolves either.

Still...Tank, Crow, and Allen were Gunner's chosen backup? I'd thought the Atwood pack's second-in-command was able to call upon more skilled manpower than the three oddballs he'd sent to my apartment to wake me earlier in the day. If I'd known we were going in with jokers as backup, I would have skipped negotiating with werewolves and instead hired a pair of human fighters off the street.

Because all I really needed for this job was two dependable allies. Too bad I wasn't so sure any of my companions were up to the task.

"I trust Tank, Crow, and Allen with my life," Gunner said levelly as he and his trio of pack mates followed me through Walmart's automatic doors, past the pharmacy section, and out into the open air of the screened-in garden center. "I don't think you heard Allen's full report, though. He lost Kira at the cemetery...."

Willingly, the spectacled werewolf began repeating the same story I'd gathered from bits and pieces tossed out during the rush to reach our current location. Since I'd already guessed the details before I heard them, though, I tuned out the male's repetition and began navigating by scent alone.

Not many people visited the garden center in early March, so I wasn't surprised to be able to pick out Jackal's trail as easily as ever. Actually, there were half a dozen pathways leading to the same location, the amount of time the male spent browsing likely dependent upon how many humans were around when he initially arrived.

And, sure enough, the freshest trail had been made mere hours earlier. No sign of Kira, but it was hard to get a handle on what exactly had happened with dozens of bags of mulch and fertilizer exuding their own overwhelming scents. I forced myself not to dream up reasons my sister's aroma might be absent, but the baking-soda-influenced paw print at the crime scene rose unerringly into my mind without my consent. If anyone had small feet, that someone would be a pack-leader-wannabe like Jackal....

"Mai, you're not even listening." Gunner was in front of me now, a wall of alpha preventing me from prying up the loose flagstone that covered the tunnel to Jackal's lair. I'd found this spot years earlier when the male first came courting, his honeyed words prompting me to tail my supposed paramour and figure out what made him tick. What I'd discovered was an underground chamber accessed via Walmart's garden center, the place he went to be alone. Since Jackal apparently thought he was the only one aware of the den's existence, this seemed like the perfect spot to stash a girl he wanted no one else to discover.

Unfortunately, there was currently an alpha werewolf standing between me and my intended destination. Meanwhile, hair-raising electricity proved that Gunner's patience was wearing thin. "Mai," he growled so intently that I gave in and wasted thirty precious seconds getting the doubter off my back.

"Kira wanted to go to the cemetery," I recited, repeating Allen's words back to them in a much condensed form. "To the pond in the middle with the huge weeping willow and the spring-fed waterfall covered in moss. That's where she always wants to go. That's where we spread our father's ashes."

"I'm sorry." The tremendous werewolf before me deflated visibly...which just made me madder since his pity was wasting yet more time during which my sister was stuck beneath our feet terrified and hopefully alone.

"Allen let her play hide and seek," I continued, managing the barest hint of a smile for the accountant-turned-babysitter who was clearly berating himself for losing track of his charge. Now that I took in my entire audience, I realized Gunner was forcing this issue for more than my sake. Allen needed to be let off the hook if he was going to be any use during the battle ahead.

"It was clever, Allen," I continued. "Don't let your boss tell you otherwise. Making Kira finish one math problem every quarter hour was a good way to keep her on track and ensure she was still hanging around while giving her a bit of breathing space at the same time. Kira doesn't like being forced to sit still and she _loves_ disappearing into that tree."

Despite my words, the male in question still hung his head. "I should have kept a closer eye on her...."

"You did nothing wrong," I said honestly. "Someone snatched my sister. And now we're going to get her back."

I turned around then to face that all-important flagstone, ready to push Gunner out of the way if necessary. But it turned out my words had achieved their original goal as well as softening Allen's penchant toward self-chastisement. Because the argumentative alpha was no longer standing atop the hidden entrance, and he even knelt down to help me slide the covering aside without being asked.

The hole we revealed was barely large enough to crawl through, dirt-lined and dark as far as the eye could see. Predictably, my fox nature perked up at the close, dank confines. The wolves behind me, on the other hand, sucked in one united, claustrophobic breath.

"This is why you didn't want more backup," Gunner murmured. Like me, he was now understanding that whoever waited on the other end of the tunnel could pick off invaders at his leisure. There was no point in bringing an army to a battle that, by necessity, had to be fought one on one. I needed a single dependable wolf at my back and a few more guarding the exit. After that, the battle would turn on skill level alone....

"Correct," I answered. Then, drawing my sword, I dove into the tunnel before Gunner was able to start an argument about who'd go through first.

# Chapter Twenty-Three

The tunnel was worn smooth by repeated passage, but dirt still scraped off the ceiling from time to time and filtered through my hair. I ignored the itch, however, trying instead to figure out why I couldn't smell my sister's distinctive odor no matter how hard I sniffed.

Would Jackal have pushed his prisoner or pulled her? The male was lazy, I reasoned, so he'd likely kept Kira conscious so she could crawl into the darkness under her own volition. Still, my ferocious sister would have fought rather than giving in easily. She would have clawed, maybe even shifted form and bit at her captor's hand. So why hadn't her efforts left behind traces of her existence? Why didn't I smell even the faintest hint of blood?

Behind us, the scrape of stone on pavement coincided with the extinguishing of the last faint glimmer of light shining over my shoulder. And, in response, my star ball pulsed against my fingers, begging to be let out of its weaponized form so it could illuminate the pathway ahead.

"Mai?" Werewolf fingers closed around my ankle and a shiver ran up my spine. But the reaction wasn't terror. Instead, Gunner's warmth gave me the courage to continue crawling forward into the darkness, holding my star ball's illuminatory impulses in check. After all, we couldn't risk alerting Jackal to our impending entrance with a blaze of magical starlight. Our only real chance was to burst out of the hole so quickly our opponent lacked all opportunity to block the gap....

_"If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub,"_ Mama murmured. And this time my skull thunked into the top of the tunnel in reaction to the ghost's sudden arrival inside my mind.

"Now isn't a good time for proverbs," I retorted...then cringed as I smelled Gunner's interest behind my back. There would be questions later, I gathered. For now, all I could manage was to push onward while ignoring both my mother's talkative ghost and the fact that I was willingly leading one very powerful alpha werewolf toward a sister who might currently inhabit the skin of a fox.

It felt like we crawled for hours after that. The space heated and dampened around us, and my pupils dilated so dramatically they began to strain against the absence of light. Then I pushed my sword forward just as I'd done a second earlier and a second before that...and the weapon slipped away from me, crashing against a hard surface within a much larger room.

Was Kira sitting with that darkness scared out of her mind by the clatter? Or was Jackal lying in wait beside his captive, crouched and smiling as he used the lack of illumination to give him the upper hand?

My sword, unfortunately, had taken the element of surprise out of our court already. So I didn't assess the danger further. Just pushed myself out of the hole with all my might, rolling sideways as I snatched at where I guessed the blade had fallen.

And it was a good thing my star ball refused to cut me or I would have ended up with a gash through my right palm to match the scab on my left. As it was, I banged my shin hard against a chair leg as I came to standing then spun in a circle as light emerged from behind my back.

"It's me," Gunner grunted as my blade cut through the air half a centimeter from his cell-phone-turned-flashlight. Not bothering to defend himself further, he lifted the device above his head and looked around.

Together, we took in a lair well furnished with stolen Walmart chic. Just like last time, the space was clean and almost cozy...if you ignored the cave crickets and spiders crawling across the uneven floor. There were rugs atop the dirt, a folded chair plus a mound of pillows in one corner, even an electric camp stove off to one side.

Unfortunately, the space was also entirely empty of anyone except me and Gunner. Neither my sister nor Jackal was there.

Gunner raised one eyebrow as he took in my shock and devastation. I'd been so sure Kira would be here to greet me. Had been so sure that saving her skin was worth risking our secret around this far too astute werewolf...who was even now opening his mouth to begin a debrief I couldn't afford.

But before my companion could spit out a single word, a werewolf leapt out of the tunnel behind us, shifting midair so he landed naked but human by his alpha's side. "Jackal's been sighted on the other side of the city," Crow reported, holding out a cell phone he'd carried through the tunnel in his lupine mouth. The device was wet with spittle, but I grabbed it before Gunner could close his fingers around the damp plastic. Then I peered down at the picture on the screen.

Jackal in his home turf. Two shifters I didn't recognize behind his left shoulder. No sign of my sister in sight.

"If we go into the Warren after him, he'll slip through our fingers," I observed, already considering the hundreds of exit points surrounding the city's underbelly. "He could have stashed Kira anywhere. We'll have to tempt him out by offering something in exchange."

But what? Myself as mate was the only obvious bargaining chip, but Jackal had clearly tired of sniffing after me. What he wanted was territorial rights to the city...something an alpha werewolf like Gunner would never provide.

As if reading my mind, Gunner smiled faintly. "I can think of several somethings Jackal would like to have. None of which he's getting. But it won't hurt to pretend."

The alpha nodded his chin toward the tunnel then, and Crow shivered down into lupine form before leaping back into the small space he'd come in through. Only after we were once more alone in the otherwise empty lair did Gunner take a step toward me, bending over slightly so he could peer more intently into my eyes.

"I need to understand the bigger picture if I'm going to help your sister," my companion rumbled, his voice so deep it vibrated against my bones. His proximity felt like sticking my finger into an electric socket while teetering above a bathtub—a burst of shock and awareness wrapped up in the knowledge that even greater danger lay mere inches away.

In response, I tried—and failed—to pry my lips open, expecting every minute for the male to push harder against my obvious reservations. After all, he was an alpha werewolf, used to taking whatever he wanted. And even though my fox nature made verbal compulsions roll off my back like so much rainwater, my milk-money debt worked in the opposite direction, urging me to give this particular werewolf anything he cared to request.

The wave-like crash was almost audible as the inconsistencies in my various stories collided together in Jackal's abandoned den. Lies, lies, and more lies leading to questions beyond my ability to brush off. Like—how did my half-Japanese heritage relate to the murderer on the loose in our city? And why did my sister and I choose to live on our own when female werewolves would have been welcomed with open arms by any pack...

...assuming, that is, I was actually a werewolf and that my sister was the same.

Rather than voicing the obvious, though, Gunner merely stood over me and waited. His scent embraced my body, clearing my sinuses and at the same time tightening my chest until I could barely breathe.

And as if in response to that two-sided reaction, my star ball disobeyed my earlier commandment and began glowing gently. It was only the faintest flicker of illumination, and Gunner now held two cell phones to beat back the darkness. Still, I knew he noticed when the scent in the den turned from salty dominance into spicy intrigue.

"Mai?" the male murmured at last. "Is there something going on with your sword?"

I couldn't answer, but I also couldn't lie while my debt held me within its power. So I broke the moment in the only way I was capable of. I ignored the way his gaze raised hairs up and down my spine, stashed my disobedient weapon away beneath my clothing, then padded toward the tunnel in three quick strides. After that, I crawled into the hole so quickly I bruised both elbows and knees against the hard earthen ground.

Gunner slipped in right behind me, his broad shoulders catching on the walls and slowing him down in areas where I could slither straight on through. Still, I didn't take advantage of the opportunity to flee when I emerged amid a ring of interested faces.

After all, while Gunner might suspect everything, he knew nothing. And until Kira was safe, the watchful werewolf was still the best ally I currently had on hand.

# Chapter Twenty-Four

_"The talented hawk hides its claws,"_ my mother noted as Gunner's SUV pulled to a halt in front of my apartment complex. And despite my best attempt at maintaining a poker face, I was pretty sure I jolted visibly at the internal commentary yet again. So it was a good thing any astute alpha questions were cut off by an interjection from the back seat.

"One hour," Tank informed us, looking up from his phone for the first time since we'd entered the vehicle. "Jackal says he'll meet us at the southside McDonald's at 11 pm. He wants Mai there."

I nodded, already pushing open the SUV door in relief. I'd be too frazzled to think straight if I spent the next sixty minutes in these wolves' presence...especially with the ghost of a mother hovering at the back of my mind. So a little time to stuff Mama back in the corner where she belonged—and to finally pull on a pair of panties to stop the chaffing—seemed like a gift from the gods.

Unfortunately, a hand reached out to close around my left wrist before I could make good on my escape. "You're not going to run," Gunner informed me, the words a question disguised as an order.

"I just need time to shower and catch my breath," I replied honestly. Well, that, plus the leeway to pull my brain back together. Mental hygiene, physical hygiene—it amounted to pretty much the same thing. "I'll meet you there."

"We'll pick you up," Gunner countered, but he _did_ release my wrist. And even though I could feel the alpha's eyes boring into my back as I strode to the apartment building's entrance, the vehicle was gone when I peered back through the fogged glass from inside.

Only then did I lean my forehead against the tiny square of window, close my eyes, and speak to the ghost who seemed intent upon hounding my every move. "Any ideas, Mama? On how to get Kira back?"

_"A frog in a well does not know..."_ my mother began, only to lapse into silence rather than finishing the phrase.

"Doesn't know what, Mama?"

I was talking to myself in an empty stairwell, I realized as I spun in a circle hoping for more words of wisdom from someone who had died soon after Kira was born. Despite that self-awareness, however, I waited longer than I cared to consider, hoping the ghost would return and at least finish her sentence if nothing else.

But, at last, I was forced to admit my solitude. So I walked up the stairs alone, padded down the hallway with my hand on my star-ball-turned-sword...then froze as I took in a small rectangle of paper tacked to the outside of my apartment door.

For half a second, I thought Kira had come back and left me a note so I wouldn't worry. That she'd just been teasing Allen, had forgotten tonight was fight night, had let her mercurial fox nature get the better of her considerate human mind.

Then I stepped closer, took in scrawled handwriting nothing like my sister's looping script. Knew Kira was well and truly taken and wasn't going to be returned easily or willingly to her home.

Because I couldn't smell my sister here any more than I had done in Jackal's underground hideout. Couldn't smell anything, actually, except the metallic bite of baking soda that matched the trail of human-shaped footprints following the path I'd just taken from stairwell to door.

Then, behind me, the trickle of a melody. Not a whistle this time, but the actual tinkle of Mama's music box emerging from the stairs I'd just walked up.

The killer was here, in my apartment building. And not bothering to think through the fact that, even in my frazzled state, I wouldn't have overlooked someone standing in the stairwell, I sprinted back in the direction from which I'd come. Thundered down the stairs so loudly residents pounded on their walls and swore at being woken. Pushed through the heavy fire door at the front entrance...and peered out into a seemingly empty street.

There was no one there. No one to match the trail of baking-soda footprints that disappeared as soon as it hit uneven pavement. No scent of shifter, no sound of music box, no magic tugging at my star ball and leading me toward the sister who should have been safely snuggled in her bed upstairs.

So, shoulders slumping, I looked in both directions one last time then climbed back up the stairs far more quietly than I'd rushed down them. And as I did so, I paid attention this time to the footprints, measuring their length in my mind's eye. The tracks were larger than my own feet but not so large they were definitively male...nor so small they were definitively female. The tread screamed athletic shoes but the stride was shorter than my own, suggesting whoever wore those sneakers didn't often use their gear to work out.

Which meant my visitor could have been about 80% of the people in the city. Good luck using that evidence to make an arrest.

Refusing to be disheartened by the lack of information, I made a beeline for my apartment as soon as I stepped out onto the third floor once again. The note was still there, the words gradually materializing as I puzzled out the pointy handwriting that had initially resembled nothing more than bird tracks in the snow.

And as I read, I gradually sank forward until my forehead rested on the scuffed surface of the door frame. Because the message was worse than expected, nothing like the overt threat Jackal would have offered. Instead, the words were polite, cultured...and marked the death knell of the secrecy that had protected me and my sister for the last twenty-five years.

_"The artifacts aren't working as advertised,"_ the note-writer informed me. _"The young fox is not an adequate guide. Come to the South Street bridge at midnight to renegotiate. Don't make this poor child suffer by bringing werewolves along."_

# Chapter Twenty-Five

I unlocked my door like an automaton, leaving it hanging open behind me as I headed into the kitchen in a daze. _It's happening._ The exposure I'd guarded against for decades hovered over my head like a storm cloud.

Good thing I'd gathered everything necessary to guard against the impending rain.

So I didn't enter Kira's bedroom to rail against her absence or take a much-needed shower. Instead, I climbed atop a wobbly kitchen chair and rooted around in the back of the cupboard for several long minutes, seeking the coffee neither Kira nor I drank.

Ah, there it was. Pre-ground crystals, still aromatic within their unsealed container. Pouring out the entire mess into the sink, I snatched up the ziplock bag of fake IDs that was revealed as the coffee grounds flowed out.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Good thing I was a fox or I would have fallen flat on my face when the lanky social worker waltzed through my door without bothering to knock first. As it was, the ziplock bag slid from suddenly nerveless fingers and I had to use a tendril of my star ball to nab the slippery plastic before it fluttered toward the floor.

Still, my voice was serene as I denied the truth to Simon's face. "Of course not. Just making coffee. Want some?"

As I spoke, I jumped down off the chair just a little too lightly to appear human...then made up for that lapse by scraping the wooden legs loudly across the floor while tucking the article of furniture back into its usual spot. I could almost hear Mr. Grouchy downstairs growling into his comforter, wanting to know why I couldn't keep banker's hours like everyone else...which might have explained why Simon was here. Had an ornery neighbor called Social Services just because I'd been too loud after dark?

I wasn't given time to pursue that supposition, though, because Simon responded with an easy "Sure," catching me off guard as he called my hospitality bluff for the very first time. What, now he wanted coffee? After years of politely evading my offers of tea and cookies? Of lifting his hands off the table when he accidentally brushed the surface, as if my bad housekeeping would rub off at a touch?

Unfortunately, while the sink was full of coffee crystals, the apartment possessed no brewing apparatus. And I wasn't even sure we still had a mug after Kira's most recent juggling attempt.

So I utilized one of my favorite game plans—when in doubt, go on the offensive. "What are you really here for?" I demanded, realizing as I spoke that there was no need to toady up to this social worker any longer regardless of his current reason for invading my home. Because, sure, for the last decade Simon had held the key to my happiness in his clammy fists. But Kira and I would shortly be starting over in a new community...and this time her ID would say she was over eighteen.

"To see your sister," the social worker replied, then proceeded to drawl out more explanation than he really needed. "I realized Kira wasn't here last time I spoke with you. Doesn't look like she's here now. Where is your ward?"

As he spoke, the male's eyes trailed across the combined kitchen and living room. And as Simon searched for a girl who was very obviously not present, my brain caught up with the adrenaline that had been coursing through my veins ever since the social worker barged in.

Wasn't his current behavior a little beyond the pale, even if the neighbors had called to report me? Since when did city workers make house calls late on a Friday evening? And why was he suddenly so intent upon seeing Kira?

My gut told me to get out of there, the sooner the better. And I trusted my gut. So I pasted on a smile and lied between my teeth.

"At a sleepover with a friend," I answered, mentally shuffling through the contents of the apartment as I spoke. Was there anything else Kira and I couldn't live without? Not really. My sister had sold Mama's last possessions, I kept all of our cash in my pockets, and our mother's star ball had recently been hanging out on my sister's person. Everything else was just so much jetsam ready to be thrown overboard as we abandoned ship.

"I'll go see her there then," Simon answered, breaking into my musings and accepting the deflection more easily than I'd expected. "What's the address?"

I was tempted to rattle off a fake street number then push the human out the door. But instinct told me he wasn't going to leave so easily. Might call in a coworker to check out my story while he kept me talking, wasting time I could use to get my sister back.

So I parried rather than feinting. "Give me a minute. I'll hunt it down for you," I offered before slipping into the bedroom and closing the door in his face.

Then, just as I'd done two nights earlier, I gave into my fox's urge to flee the premises. It was ten times easier to do so in Kira's bedroom than it had been in that gas-station restroom, the window here a little larger and the fire escape on the outside providing an easy pathway to the ground.

"Hey! Wait!" Simon's face appeared at the window sooner than anticipated. But I didn't pause or answer, knowing his long arms and legs would take far too long to slip through the small gap after me. Instead, I just ran down the metal steps with heavy footfalls that once again wakened the neighbors. Then, knowing I was irredeemably cutting off all possibility of retreat, I slunk into the shadows and disappeared into the night.

# Chapter Twenty-Six

Unfortunately, I'd traversed only half a block when the scent of werewolf rose up around me. "Going somewhere?" Gunner demanded as he stepped out of an alcove to block my path.

I flinched backwards, wishing I could pretend I was still the same person I'd been one hour earlier. Then, I'd been glad for this male to join me. Yes, he was trouble. But he also seemed to possess a gentlemanly willingness to set aside my secrets in an effort to bring Kira back.

Now, though, my cards were face up on the table and I couldn't afford dragging an alpha werewolf along for the ride. So I hesitated one second longer than I should have...at which point Gunner struck.

Between one eye blink and the next, his hand was inside my pocket. Then the ziplock of fake IDs emerged squeezed between skillful fingers despite my attempt to twist away. "I..." I started...only to freeze as his other arm landed like a manacle around my waist while the first pried open the plastic bag.

"You're running," the alpha growled, his breath hot against the top of my head. He paged through paper and plastic that Kira and I would need to create a new life together, his voice turning chillier with each flipped over item. "Is your sister even missing? Or is that just another lie?"

"I've never lied to you," I countered, contemplating ways to free myself from my captor's handhold. Despite our size difference, I could have used his ill-considered grip to throw Gunner over my back so I could flee while he lay winded on the pavement. Or my star-ball-turned-dagger could stab the pesky werewolf in the gut for a more final form of freedom than that.

And yet I hovered indecisively, kicking myself for being unwilling to make a move against Gunner. My Arena fights had gone south many times over the last decade, with dozens of matches ending in hospitalizations rather than a simple scratch on the cheek. So why did the mere thought of injuring a werewolf make me shiver uncontrollably now?

No matter the reason, my opponent didn't miss the change in mood. His arm softened as he pulled me in closer, and his next words were midway between human speech and werewolf growl. "Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it," the male murmured.

He sounded so solid, so dependable. But before I could answer, the decision was taken out of my hands. First came a yip followed by a single howl...then the cacophony grew until lupine voices were erupting all around us from over a dozen throats.

The newcomers must have scouted the scene before announcing themselves, because they weren't coming from one direction alone. Instead, they'd blocked passage down the street in both directions, north and south pathways equally cut off from the potential for retreat.

I spared one quick glance toward the alpha who still held me up against him, hoping this was merely Atwood backup finally making themselves known. But, of course, Gunner would never have allowed such overt wolfishness in a human neighborhood. So I wasn't at all surprised to see the alpha's eyebrow's rising while the air around us filled with the unmistakable tang of fur.

Nope, the encroaching pack wasn't friendly. And, based on their numbers, Gunner and I were dramatically outmatched.

"Put this somewhere safe, then shift."

The ziplock of IDs whizzed toward me even as Gunner spun away to peer down the darkened street in both directions. And while I _did_ take the time to carefully stash the bag into an inside pocket, I just as overtly disobeyed the alpha's second command. After all, donning my fox form would have been sure suicide. So I molded my star ball into a sword instead and came to stand beside Gunner on two human feet.

"You'd be safer as a wolf," he observed, although I noticed the male made no move to follow his own advice. Then, when I didn't answer: "I don't suppose you have another sword I could borrow?"

"Here." I hoped the darkness was deep enough so my companion couldn't see my rapier narrowing by half as I pulled a second weapon out of the sheathe along my spine. Star-ball metal was strong if formed properly, so I wasn't worried that even a half-width blade might fail to do its job.

What was more concerning was whether being separated from so much of my magic would dull my reaction time. Strangely, I felt stronger rather than weaker as the not-quite-solid weapon slipped into my companion's waiting hand.

Gunner nodded his thanks briefly before calling out into the darkness as the click of nails on pavement grew audible against the night. "Last chance to talk out our differences. Don't start something you're going to regret."

It was a nice gesture on his part, but none of the enemy shifters currently possessed human vocal cords with which to reply to him. Nor did they have any interest in backing down. Instead, they sprang upon us in two synchronized waves, yips and snarls preceding fur and claws by barely enough seconds to allow me to angle my sword toward the shadows rushing toward me out of the night.

After that, nothing but fangs and growls mattered. And I had to admit that even my star ball wouldn't have been enough to keep me afloat had I been flying solo. But, back to back with Gunner, we were able to fend off the attackers even if we failed to gain actual ground.

The night was dark and the wolves were many, so it took me quite a while to figure out who we were fighting against. _Jackal_ , I realized, picking out the white-ruffed wolf even as I sliced a wicked wound through the hamstring of his second in command. Had I been wrong in my reassessing of the situation? Was my pretend boyfriend the strangely polite note-leaver who had snatched my sister off the street in pursuit of an agenda of his own?

As if sensing my confusion, Jackal shimmered upward into humanity even as two of his pack mates attempted to take me down from the left and right. Good thing Gunner had eyes in the back of his head...or at least the alpha fought as if he did. Knocking one wolf onto its tail with a rather impressive side kick, my partner opened up enough space so I could swipe a welt across the other wolf's nose.

Then Jackal was standing naked in the middle of the street without concern for shifter secrecy or human modesty. "You made the wrong decision, little girl," he told me, advancing forward until he stood just beyond the reach of my sword. "I would have protected you. This filth will not."

In reaction, Gunner growled deep in his throat, his back muscles tightening where they pressed up against my own. But my companion didn't turn his head to answer, just kept attacking and parrying while providing leeway in which I could speak.

"I want my sister back," I demanded, ignoring Jackal's insults and cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "What is it you want in exchange?"

And to my surprise, my opponent's brow furrowed while his head tilted to one side. "You want your sister _back_?"

I had just enough time to realize Jackal had no idea what I was talking about—that he hadn't been the kidnapper and note-writer and presumably had no notion that I shifted into the form of a fox rather than that of a wolf. But before I could decide how that understanding changed the face of the current battle, Gunner roared behind me...and a strange lethargy flooded my limbs.

Meanwhile, a gleaming _something_ whizzed away into the darkness even as my legs began trembling with their effort to hold me erect. I whimpered like a puppy, my vision turned muddy, then—to my eternal chagrin—I fell onto my knees.

# Chapter Twenty-Seven

I was vaguely aware of an unpadded shoulder cutting into my belly as blood rushed to my upside-down head. Then I was lying flat on my back atop a foul-smelling dumpster, Gunner's hands rubbing heat back into my limbs.

"Damn it, wake up!"

I wasn't unconscious and I tried to tell him as much. But the attempted words instead came out as a moan even as the scent of fur dampened into bitter-almond concern.

_Gunner dropped his sword,_ I realized, the words materializing far more slowly than they should have as my own star-ball-turned-weapon throbbed in my clenched right fist. Which explained why I was suddenly weak as a newborn kitten, unable to do more than roll over onto my side and strain against the darkness in search of the other half of my soul.

To my relief, the second sword hadn't entirely disappeared into the night. Instead, it was clearly visible twenty feet distant, lying at the feet of a snarling werewolf. If I could just....

Before I could muster sufficient energy to do anything, though, Gunner was tilting my torso upright and piercing me with the intensity of his gaze. "Mai, talk to me."

He sounded so desperately worried. And even though I knew I had more important matters to contend with, I succumbed to the fuzzy need within my belly. Raised my left hand. Trailed two fingers along the knife edge of his jaw...

...then jerked aside as skin-on-skin contact hit me like an electric shock. Even the mud in my brain settled in that moment. And this time when I yanked at the distant sword with all of my remaining vigor, the weapon gradually dislodged itself from the ground and began dragging itself toward my wiggling fingers.

Meanwhile, I did my best to stem Gunner's angst by letting him know I wasn't actually perishing at his feet. "I'm fine," I told him...the words coming out more like "I fie." Unfortunately, from the whiteness surrounding the alpha's lips, my consolation hadn't hit its intended mark.

But I'd be able to mollify my companion with fully-formed words sooner rather than later. Because the sword was arcing up toward us now, slicing through the ear of a werewolf who had been attempting to scramble up the sheer side of the dumpster protecting us from the melee below. The four-legger yelped and Gunner whirled...and I did the only thing I could think of to prevent my companion from seeing a sword break the laws of physics as it flew upward toward our perch.

I allowed the weapon in my right hand to dissolve into starlight then used those freed digits to pull my companion's head down toward me. After that, I kissed him, our lips merging together even as metal-turned-magic reunited with my grasping left hand.

Hot and sweet and rough all at once, enchantment and sensation exploded inside me in a jumbled mixture that could have been pure passion or might have just been the energetic reunion with my star-ball-turned-sword.

Either way, I didn't have long to ponder the issue. Because Jackal was no dummy and his henchmen had access to human fingers if they chose them. So it didn't take long for several two-leggers to build a ramp of debris leading to our aerial retreat while others maintained their four-legged forms to serve as the vanguard. Now, muzzles mounted the dumpster, hot breath sneaking down the top of my boots while blood-crazed eyes glowed against the night.

"Shift!" I ordered Gunner, breaking our connection as quickly as it had begun and pushing backwards out of his arms. For half a second he continued to hold me. But then the alpha's eyes cleared and sharpened as the air filled with incipient fur.

Gunner must have assumed I intended to join him in four-legged battle. Because he didn't spare me a second glance, just dropped down into the form of his wolf, fragments of shredded clothing spraying out around him. And while I would have liked to once again stand back to back with the alpha and fend off Jackal's underlings, our kiss had re-awoken the count-down timer inside my head.

If Jackal wasn't the kidnapper, then someone else was out there threatening the life of my sister. And that someone had left me a very small window in which to reach the South Street bridge.

There was no world in which I chose to ignore the mandated meeting. And, given the contents of that note, it was safer to do so without being trailed by even a friendly wolf. So as Jackal's army leapt up onto the dumpster one after another, I backed away rather than raising my sword and diving into battle. Gunner growled at the intruders, protecting me with his body...and I took advantage of his lapse of attention to slide through the cracked window behind us and leave my overprotective companion-at-arms behind.

I was used to traversing the city in solitude. So why did I suddenly feel so queasy as I left the alpha to fight off a dozen werewolves with nothing but his claws and teeth?

"Gunner can take care of himself," I muttered under my breath, guilt dogging my footsteps as I ran down graffitied steps and entered the nearest subway station. I'd evaded Pickle Breath and three of his cronies along the way, the teenager's presence suggesting he'd been dogging my footsteps earlier as a paid lackey of the werewolf I'd recently fought against. But neither shifter nor human would be able to follow after metal wheels and the press of humanity eradicated my trail.

I pulled out bills to feed the fare machine...then inhaled sharply as I realized what I held within my hand. Ma Scrubbs' doorman hadn't presented me with a big wad of twenties this afternoon the way I'd expected. No, these were hundred-dollar bills, far more than I would have expected to rake in over the course of a month, let alone from a single night's work.

I hesitated, but a far-too-close howl returned me to my senses. There was a train incoming and I needed to be through those doors before anyone caught up and followed on my heels....

So I pushed the bills deeper into my pocket, zipped the closure, then rushed through the turnstile at a sprint. And twenty minutes and two transfers later, I was emerging from the underground maze with the breeze off the river ruffling through my hair.

I'd made it. Ten minutes early even, the brightly lit bridge arching over water that flowed endlessly underneath. And sure, I lacked a game plan. But I trusted my fox senses and my star ball to get me out of any pinch.

Plus, there was always the Arena windfall to consider. Maybe Kira's kidnapper would be willing to trade my sister for cold, hard cash?

Padding away from my destination rather than toward it, I took in the bridge a second time out of the corner of one eye. The kidnapper would have arrived hours earlier, I suspected, both to scout the area and to ensure I didn't appear at the head of an army of werewolves. So I wasn't surprised when flickers of movement materialized into dark-coated figures scattered hither and yon across the open expanse...wasn't surprised but was prompted toward deeper stealth.

There were half a dozen of the watchers. One pretended to read a newspaper on a bench by the bus stop, one walked a dog down the sidewalk, and two lingered on nearby rooftops.

It was the sixth waiting figure, however, who gave me the clue that my initial read of the situation had been dramatically off kilter. His sedan idled down by the river, the glow of a cigarette lighting his stubbled face. The male looked like any hardened criminal, but his car was too blocky and well-maintained to mesh with that disguise....

I took a step back, adrenaline flooding my bloodstream. Because while I'd thought I was walking into one kind of trap, it appeared I had instead nearly stumbled into another.

These men weren't aligned with Kira's kidnapper. No, these figures keeping eyes peeled for newcomers were instead entirely human. They were city cops.

# Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was one of the hardest things I'd ever done, but I turned on my heel and walked away from the only clue I possessed pertaining to my sister's current location. I maintained a disingenuous saunter until I rounded the corner, then I broke into a slightly superhuman run.

_The note on the door._ I saw the small, white square in my mind's eye as vividly as if I was actually standing on the well-worn carpet in the apartment building's third-floor hallway. I'd read the kidnapper's missive, had hurried inside to hunt down forged identification documents...then had forgotten all about the scrap of paper when Simon's presence sent me scurrying down the fire escape to beat my retreat.

Of course Kira's pesky social worker would have found the note. His broad shoulders had no chance of fitting through that window, which meant Simon would have left via the more traditional route. When he closed the door, the square of paper would have been staring him in the face, adding mentions of werewolves and artifacts to my earlier evasions about Kira's current whereabouts. No wonder he'd contacted the police department and set up an amber alert, then sent out a net of officials to scoop me up.

It all made perfect sense...and, unfortunately, turned Kira's future even murkier than it had been before. Because human authority figures sniffing around my trail meant that the one open channel of communication between myself and my sister's kidnappers had just slammed shut in my face.

Inhaling deeply through my nostrils, I reminded myself that I wasn't entirely out of resources just yet. The city was dark but far from sleeping as I angled my way into the red-light district, planning to hit up acquaintances who kept their ear trained to the street. Unfortunately, a string of prostitutes and black-market thiefspawns slammed their doors in my face one after another. And at the end of the block, the fear widening Joe Sly's face as soon as I entered his establishment suggested my usual resources had a more unified reason to clam up.

"Just let anyone who's interested know that I'm willing to negotiate," I told the bartender rather than bothering with a question he was clearly unwilling to answer. "I won't be reachable through the usual channels. But they _can_ call me on this cell." I rattled off the numbers of a newly bought burner phone then waited impatiently as Joe failed to write even a single digit down.

"I don't know who I'd give this to," the vertically challenged old-timer muttered, glowering up at me from beneath bushy brows. He was lying through his teeth, I noted...which confused the issue further. After all, as best I could tell, Joe was entirely human and didn't have a clue about shifters' existence. If it wasn't sharp-toothed werewolves putting the fear of death into him, then what sort of terror would keep this leathery survivor from even passing along a measly note?

Kira's round face rose in my mind, and this time I succumbed to the urge to beg. "Please," I said. "I'm hunting for my sister...."

Joe gave me the fish eye, but the male _did_ eventually write down my digits. Still, I had a sinking suspicion he was going to ditch the napkin as soon as I turned my back.

The pulsing neon lights strobed behind me as I stepped outside, tucking my chin deeper into my coat. It was turning colder by the minute, so I wasn't entirely surprised to feel the soft chill of snow landing atop my cheekbones as I turned my face up toward the sky.

"Now would be a good time for vague hints, Mama," I whispered starward, figuring the drunken teenagers behind my back were too engrossed in whooping it up to notice I was speaking to nobody but myself. Unfortunately, I really did seem to be talking to snowflakes only. Because no answers were forthcoming even from inside my own head.

I wandered for hours after that until the first glint of dawn overcame the glow of half-strength streetlights. A businessman had offered to pay me for sex, two frat boys had made an even less successful attempt at pushing me to the pavement, and I'd been roundly ignored by all permanent residents of my home turf. All told, I was exhausted, frustrated...and scared to death that Kira's kidnapper would harm my sister due to circumstances beyond my ability to control.

_"Don't make this poor child suffer..."_ The polished nature of the written words didn't lower their threat value one iota, and I shivered as I remembered the homeless guy hidden beneath the bridge with the imprint of Mama's medallion frozen into his chest. That could be Kira if I didn't find her quickly....

But I'd twisted metaphorical arms all night, and now my contact information was almost certainly flowing down the grapevine between myself and whoever held my sister hostage. Which meant I might as well take cover and ensure no nosy cops found me while I waited for the kidnapper to call.

To that end, I ducked into a dank public bathroom, tucking clothes and personal belongings into a star-ball-created yoke around my stomach before donning the body of my fox. Nosing out from under the stall door in red-furred splendor, it was easy to hop up onto the sink then slither out the broken window placed just underneath the eaves.

For half a second, I teetered there atop the chipped concrete, breathing in the freedom of becoming a fox. Snow was falling harder now, the white blanket covering up grime and making the city appear both clean and new. And I couldn't help thinking how much Kira would have loved the snow storm, how her eyes would sparkle while her cheeks turned pleasure-pink.

Today, though, Kira would enjoy neither snowmen nor hot chocolate. Instead, she was caught in the grasp of a shadowy force dark enough to make even Joe Sly run scared. No wonder focusing on my sister resulted in a sharp pain within my gut.

But...wait...was that ache merely remorseful wallowing? Or was something else going on?

Because between one gust of snow-laden wind and the next, the burn had gained a direction that tugged my vulpine feet forward. Merely swiveling my body to face north lessened the agony momentarily. And when I hopped to the ground and took one tentative step in that direction, my stomach warmed and the pain lessened...only to bubble back to burning agony when I planted my furry feet rather than continuing along the indicated route.

It was never a good idea to get caught up in unknown magic. But I'd been wandering aimlessly for hours and was glad to be pulled in any direction, even a bad one. So I didn't try to resist the tug further. Instead, I sprinted north out of the Warrens, twisting and turning down curvy alleys guided by the compass within my stomach.

I stopped only once to bite ice balls out from between my paw pads. The snow was growing deeper now and the day had warmed just enough for the heat of my skin to melt fluff into ice. But my muscles tensed and I barely managed to pause long enough to catch my breath before the tug in my gut yanked me forward. And I somehow wasn't surprised when Mama's voice sprang to life with yet another warning I couldn't puzzle out.

_"Hang out a sheep head to sell dog meat,"_ my mother's voice noted. And as I panted, pressed against the side of a building, I realized I knew exactly where I was for the first time in over an hour.

The nearby houses had turned huge several moments earlier, but my tired brain hadn't made the obvious connection until I recognized the cavalcade of parked cars half-covered by blankets of white. In my defense, snow stifled scents and blowing particles obstructed vision, so it was hard to tell I was walking directly into danger until werewolves rose out of the white haze before me while the overwhelming scent of Atwood finally filtered into my nose.

_So that's what Mama meant._ Walking up to the ruling werewolf's den in the body of a fox was a recipe for disaster, and I could only hope it wasn't already too late to hide whatever secrets I had left. So I pushed upwards into humanity then shivered as bare feet froze upon contact with an ankle-deep layer of snow and ice.

# Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Tank, Allen, Crow," I greeted the trio, tension melting off my shoulders as I took in the identities of the males emerging out of the swirling snow. Unfortunately, my relief was short-lived because none of Gunner's pack mates returned the greeting. Instead, Tank and Crow shifted into fur form without bothering to remove their clothing first, while Allen lunged sideways on human feet to cut off my easiest avenue of escape.

_They know what I am._ To my eternal chagrin, I neither fled nor attacked in the face of this culmination of my recurring nightmare. Instead, I stood there, naked save for the not-quite-fanny-pack around my waist, trying to decide whether I could get away with yanking a sword out of the ether without sealing Kira's fate as well as my own.

After all, it was still possible the trio hadn't noted my white-tipped tail and vulpine whiskers when they first came upon me in the snow....

While I hesitated, the pack's accountant cleared the air. "The boss was disappointed you ran off and left him," Allen informed me, his words a rough growl backed up by the hard knock of his shoulder against my own. And maybe the night spent scouring the city in search of my sister had exhausted me more than I realized, or maybe I was just shocked by the bitter violence emanating from a once-gentle shifter. Whatever the reason, Allen's blow threw me off balance...then a wolf to the back of my knees sent me toppling over into a drift of snow.

Frozen water crystals molded around my body like a not-so-warm trenchcoat. But it was the increasing pain within my gut that left me doubled over...that plus a realization of why I'd been drawn to this mansion in the first place.

My debt to Gunner. Of course. I owed the alpha three bucks plus interest. And whether he'd called in the tab intentionally or by accident, I still found myself crawling away from my attackers and toward the building's rear entrance rather than saving my skin by beating a hasty retreat.

Unfortunately, the werewolves around me must have thought I was trying to flee rather than accepting my comeuppance. Because snarls tunneled through the snow clogging my ear canals, then wolf teeth scraped against the naked skin of my calf.

In response, my star ball pulsed against frozen fingers. The magic wasn't subtle enough to understand the consequences of forming armored long johns or spiked garters when I was currently buck naked. Instead, it pushed me to provide guidance. Should we attack or defend?

"Neither," I began, the stab of agony spreading from my belly into my temples making it nearly impossible to speak. But the word didn't entirely materialize since my cheek was now pressed against a snow drift. Instead, I coughed as I inhaled a mouthful of solid snow.

I lay there spluttering, unable to twist aside as a second wolf pounced upon what little bit of my face was currently accessible. Foul breath wafted into my nostrils even as the wound in my leg deepened sufficiently to impinge upon the pounding in my head and gut. These weren't the same cheerful pack mates who had ferried me around the city yesterday. Instead, I was facing angry werewolves out for enemy blood....

Which is when I lost track of self-preservation and let instinct take over. Yanking at my fox nature in terror, I prepared to disengage and flee in my agile vulpine form.

But my shift was blocked by the debt dragging me toward the now invisible mansion, and I wasn't able to so much as twist out of the duo's tightening grasp.

"I'm sorry, Kira," I murmured as I stopped straining against the impossible. It was finally time to admit defeat.

"Let her up."

Gunner's command would have been more welcome if his tone hadn't been as cold as the snow packed between my butt cheeks. So it wasn't terribly surprising that his underlings obeyed the spirit rather than the actual letter of his order. Tank and Crow _did_ let me go long enough to regain their own humanity, but Allen took advantage of the lull to haul me up by my hair. Then naked two-leggers regained the holds recently relinquished by lupine jaws, this time grabbing my arms in a vise-like grip that was no more yielding than their teeth had been.

Meanwhile, the snowfall was easing up around us, which made it easier than it would have been previously to see the tall male figure stalking down the mansion's rear path toward our circle of trampled snow. And I cringed as I took in the bandage crossing Gunner's cheekbone, the bruises around his throat, and the way the alpha walked with an ill-disguised limp.

The odds _had_ been badly stacked against him back by my apartment, especially after I'd abandoned the male to duke it out alone. Gunner was lucky he'd made it out of that dog pile alive, and his current existence was no thanks to me.

"I'm sorry," I started...only to lose track of apologies as the phone in my fanny pack buzzed angrily against my belly. Of all the moments for my trails of bread crumbs to finally bear fruit, now was _not_ the time for Kira's kidnapper to call.

Unfortunately, the hands gripping my arms only bit in tighter as I attempted to reach for the potential lifeline. And there was no warmth in Gunner's eyes as he watched me struggle in silence for one long second before I accepted the futility of the attempt.

"Someone more important you need to talk to?" the alpha asked as I stilled, proving that his shifter ears made him well aware of the call that would soon be shunted over to voice mail. He stalked one step closer until I was sandwiched between so many male bodies my breath caught within my throat. And, despite everything, my skin still tingled as the alpha's warm breath blew miniature tornadoes through my ice-streaked hair.

"I was wrong about Jackal," I answered as quickly as I could while trying to remember how many times the phone had buzzed at me already. Three, four? Would Kira's kidnapper try again if I didn't pick up, or would this be my second strike that knocked my sister's rescue off the table for good? "This call is..."

I didn't even manage to get out the rest of my sentence before Gunner reached toward my belly, feeling for the zipper that didn't actually exist. _Open,_ I bade the star ball, and the alpha's scent sharpened as the cell jumped out into his extended hand.

Then the screen was glowing between us, _"Unknown name, unknown number"_ filling the small rectangle. I stretched toward it even though I knew Tank and Crow wouldn't release me. And secretiveness or no secretiveness, if I'd been able I would have pressed the appropriate button with the power of my mind.

Unfortunately, I wasn't that powerful. And the alpha before me didn't appear ready to soften his stance anytime soon either. "If you want to answer, you'll promise to stop running," Gunner growled, still up in my face.

The air between us was so full of fur and electricity that I nearly choked on my next inhale. Still, I managed to nod. And when Gunner raised his eyebrows, clearly requiring verbal confirmation, I breathed out a vow that dug debt-bearing claws yet deeper into my gut. "I promise."

At which point the fingers holding back my right arm loosened, allowing me to snatch the cell phone out of my companion's extended hand. I slid damp fingers across the slick surface, relieved when the call picked up. Then I turned my back for the barest illusion of privacy while pressing the cold plastic up against my ear. "Yes?" I answered, the single word all I could muster using long pent-up air.

"You've just about blown it." Ma Scrubbs' creaky old voice was the last one I'd expected to wend its way out of the speaker. But as she continued, the entire charade suddenly made far too much sense. "I've turned Kira over to the client," the old woman who loved money above all else informed me, "so you'd better turn up fast."

# Chapter Thirty

"Ma, don't do it!"

"I've told you before that I'm not your mother." I could imagine the old woman puffing herself up the way she used to when I trailed into the Arena on my father's heels, a lanky teenager with dreams even larger than my sword. Ma Scrubbs had doled out tough love then, but there was no affection mixed into the harshness of her voice when she continued now. "I'm looking out for number one. About damn time you did the same."

Then the cell phone was no longer pressed up against my chilled cartilage. Gunner had snatched the device away, transferring the call over to speaker phone in the process. "Where is Kira?" he demanded.

My companion's words were so full of alpha electricity that they would have easily compelled a werewolf to reply. But Ma Scrubbs merely laughed. "Hey there, boy scout. Whatcha gonna offer me in exchange?"

"What do you want?" I couldn't believe it, but Gunner was negotiating with the woman. Was apparently willing to offer any of his rather astonishingly large array of assets in exchange for my sister's life. Within my belly, the milk-money debt grew into a dragon...and I willingly allowed its foothold to increase.

Ma Scrubbs, unfortunately, was less impressed by the offer. "Naw, naw, I got what I wanted. The client's funding my retirement. I'm off to the Caribbean. Or maybe the Mediterranean. Never could keep those warm-water oceans straight...."

"Ma!" I couldn't help myself. Because Kira was in the hands of someone who'd used kitsune magic to murder at least two people recently. Given the obvious danger of that situation, Ma Scrubbs couldn't just offer a vague warning then hang up on me....

Unfortunately, the only response I came up with beyond her name was a strangled growl. So it was probably a good thing Gunner continued his negotiations without any loss of steam. "But think of how nice it would be to live in a mansion rather than in a straw hut during your golden years. Give me a routing number and I'll transfer over a million bucks. All you have to do is tell me where Kira is right now."

"Money first," Ma countered. "And you'd better hurry. The client is already on his way to pick her up."

Nails bit into my palms, but I forced myself to remain silent. I wasn't helping matters by emoting. Somehow the werewolf beside me was able to able to speak the old woman's language better than I could, so I might as well let him continue blazing the path.

"You give me an address and we'll transfer funds during the drive over," Gunner replied smoothly, proving my point even as he began pushing me toward one of the waiting vehicles. Without requiring nudges of their own, the alpha's three underlings slid into seats while pulling on clothes soppy with melted snow. Tank and Crow got in the front, Allen aimed for the third tier, and the middle row sat open and waiting to thaw my frozen skin.

But rather than joining the other werewolves inside the steaming vehicle, I found myself shifting from foot to foot in ankle-deep snow while Gunner completed the deal-making aspect of the morning. "I'm a boy scout, remember. You know I'll keep my word," the alpha growled when Ma Scrubbs' silence proved her unwillingness to pony up before she was paid.

"Better hold him to that, girlie," Ma said after one last moment of endless consideration. And I could hear in her voice that she, at least, understood the secrets I didn't want revealed.

"Yes," I answered, voice catching in a way that caused all four werewolves to eye me oddly. But then Ma Scrubbs was rattling off an address that was far too familiar, giving me something new to worry about.

Because the old woman hadn't stashed Kira anywhere easy to access. Instead, she'd stuck my sister in the Warren, where Jackal's riled-up wolves ruled the roost.

There were so many zeros on the screen of Allen's cell phone that I gulped. Still, I'd accepted the debt already. So I busied myself pulling my leather jacket out of the star-ball-turned-fanny-pack, hoping no one noticed that the space was far too small to contain such a bulky object without the assistance of magic. Meanwhile, I promised aloud what my kitsune nature required as recompense to the alpha pressed far too close against my side. "I'll pay you back."

Was I just imagining the faint smile quirking up the corner of Gunner's lips as the debt within my belly ballooned from draconic to sea-monster size? Probably. Because all he said was: "Let's worry about that later." Then his eyes widened as they returned to the road.

" _Stop_ ," he ordered, his alpha command causing the male behind the wheel to slam on the brakes before easing up his foot and pulling into an empty parking space.

"Boss?" Allen asked from behind us, leaning over the seats to peer over his alpha's shoulder. "I thought we were in a hurry...."

"Cops," Gunner noted succinctly. And now that he mentioned it, I _could_ just barely make out the taillights of stalled traffic three blocks ahead. Still, the leap from there to a police barricade...wasn't really that great once I remembered that every policeman in the city was likely staring at pictures of Kira's and my faces at the present moment. A fact Gunner now knew as well as I did since I'd clued him in to all relevant details during the five minutes we'd spent on the road.

_"The weak are meat. The strong eat,"_ my mother murmured inside my head. And even though I only narrowed my eyes slightly, I was pretty sure Gunner didn't miss the fact that I'd just been graced with another missive from my maternal spirit. Instead, his eyes bored into mine like icicles. And despite the heat blowing out of the vent above my head, I felt very much as if I was back outside, standing naked in the snow.

Yes, I hadn't mentioned my kitsune nature or the dead-mother-voices-in-my-head during the hurried debrief. So sue me. At least I wasn't actively running away.

"We can park here and get there easily as wolves," Tank noted when no one else suggested a game plan. "The destination is only four blocks away."

For a werewolf, the idea was a good one. But for a kitsune.... I needed to arrive two-legged if there was to be a single sliver of hope that Kira and I might survive our upcoming meeting with skins intact.

So I pushed open the car door without speaking, preparing to make tracks away from the werewolf who represented both my greatest asset and my greatest weakness wrapped up together in one overbearing package. I had no plan. Just an instinctive urge to reach my sister before anyone could threaten her further.

But I wasn't actually able to force a single foot outside the vehicle. My debt was holding me far too strongly within its grip.

"No, we'll walk there two-legged," Gunner decided after what felt like an eternity. "Crow, you take point. Allen and Tank bring up the rear. Whatever happens, your top priority is to protect Kira and Mai."

# Chapter Thirty-One

Something about Gunner's command unstuck my feet and allowed me to slip out of the SUV without waiting for my companions to follow. But electricity pulsing against my skin promised werewolves were fast on my heels as I turned into the first of several alleys too narrow for a vehicle to traverse. I'd have little time to cover up any fox-related lapses before the quartet reached my sister's side....

And, in the end, Gunner's proximity turned out to be an asset rather than a hindrance. Because as I barreled around a corner without bothering to scout for danger, a growling werewolf stepped directly into my path. His distinctive scent of strawberries and asphalt was entirely unfamiliar, suggesting he wasn't one of the dozen or so shifters I'd smelled within Gunner's compound. Meanwhile, the greedy smile on his face suggested he had a very specific idea of what to do with me.

But whether the male was a new initiate into Jackal's army or merely a drifter with murder on his mind, I wasn't a lone fox any longer. Instead, pounding footsteps behind me soon turned into four angry shifters surrounding me in their midst. And before I could speak, Gunner reached out and smacked the strange male upside the head.

"What are you _doing_?" The strawberry-asphalt shifter sounded more surprised than angry, although Gunner's answer had enough rage embedded in his tone for both of their sakes.

"Preventing you from making a very unfortunate mistake," the alpha answered. Gunner's body seemed to double in size as he loomed over the other shifter, and—predictably—the weaker wolf cringed away from his alpha's disdain. "I told you to keep Ransom back home in safety. And the backup I requested was meant to block off the Warren's perimeter only. Why are you here rather than with him?"

"Chief Ransom decided..."

I didn't bother waiting for what seemed inclined to turn into a string of excuses. Because if this male was an Atwood werewolf, then I had no need to hang around and listen to the dressing down of a subordinate. Kira's life hung in the balance and I had more important places to be.

So I slunk sideways, unsurprised when Gunner's eyes flicked away from his underling to latch onto me. He didn't call me back, though. Just nodded at his men to stick to my heels as he finished his own task.

_"The early one wins,"_ Mama murmured as my feet once again slid silently over snow-lined pavement. And I didn't even flinch this time, just continued winding through the maze of alleys that stood between me and my ultimate goal.

Because I was beginning to guess where the twists and turns were leading me. Sure enough, moments later a grand old opera building rose mid-block, its slightly decaying edifice elegant against the snow. I didn't need to check the address to know this was where Ma Scrubbs had stashed my sister. Not when the derelict structure should have been empty...and yet a string of large footprints led up to and away from the front door.

An equal number of people appeared to have walked out as had initially entered, but I didn't take that assumption for fact. After all, I was frantic rather than stupid. And I was pretty sure I'd caught the scent of Pickle Breath a mere block distant, the teenage hoodlum's presence in the wrong place at the right moment suggesting Jackal wasn't far away.

I didn't want to draw attention to myself so close to where—I hoped—my sister waited. So instead of taking the direct approach, I slipped around the side, found an unlocked window, and shimmied my way through. My werewolf bodyguards swore beneath their breath, too large to follow. But I ignored their recriminations, tiptoeing out of the changing room without pause and heading down a narrow hall.

_"...shift for me and we'll call it even."_ The voice emerged as I neared the stage entrance. Robotic, uninflected, as if someone had used a computer to anonymize their existence. Meanwhile, I smelled my sister's terror...but caught nothing else beyond stale notes of long-absent beings filling the massive space.

My fox senses bade me to scout the surroundings further, to spend time figuring out what kind of trap waited for me atop the stage. But Kira gasped, and I didn't hesitate. Instead, I stepped out into the open...and saw the sister I'd sworn to protect dangling twenty feet above my head at the end of a rapidly fraying rope.

"Kira, shift!" I yelled up at her, vaguely taking in the laptop lying near my feet. The screen was blank, the webcam pointed toward the ceiling. Someone had gone to a great deal of effort to capture the visual of a shifting kitsune...and yet that still appeared to be the only way for my sister to escape from the deteriorating harness that rucked up beneath her armpits.

"I can't," Kira moaned, her face so white it might as well have been coated with the snow still falling outside the theater. "I sold the star ball to Ma Scrubbs so we could pay our bills. I _trusted_ her, so I followed her out of the park like an idiot when she came up to me today...." Kira caught her breath against a sob, straightened her spine, then returned to the matter at hand. "So I _can't_ shift now," she informed me. "Not without Mama's star ball. I _could_ untie the knot, but then I'd just _fall_...."

And now the entire messy endeavor finally made sense. _That_ was what Ma Scrubbs had initially pawned off on the killer. _That_ was what the shadowy being was trying to find a way to unleash—the true power of a kitsune's star ball. Magic that could move at least metaphorical mountains if placed in the wrong hands.

The repercussions of fox-shifter magic entering the mainstream were potentially earth-shattering, but I couldn't find it within my heart to care at the moment. Instead, I eyed the series of catwalks that would allow moderately easy access to the space near the ceiling. Ma Scrubbs' people must have used the elevated walkways to hook Kira onto the end of a fly-line in the first place. I could just follow their lead and reel my sister in using the reverse of their actions....

Or so I guessed in the split second I spent taking in the setup. Unfortunately, the rope my sister dangled from had been sawed three-quarters of the way through, and her weight now tested its limits. Even as I watched, yet another strand broke free.

"Mai!"

I'd been responding to my sister's distress cries since she was an infant. So I didn't need the tug on my gut to send me scurrying toward the ladder leading upward. My feet thundered across the first catwalk even as I was plotting my approach, and I turned left to angle closer...only to find twenty feet of open air gaping between myself and the suspended child.

_Clever, Ma._ The old woman's helpers had strung Kira up, then dismantled the most relevant part of the catwalk behind them. Of course they had. They wanted to ensure that the only way out of Kira's conundrum was to leap away in the body of a fox.

Which my sister couldn't do...but _I_ could.

"Untie the knots," I told Kira, knowing as I spoke that she would make short work of even pulled-tight tangles. After all, replicating Houdini's coffin-in-the-river trick had been one of her favorite afternoon activities in lieu of homework...well, without the underwater part. I'd had to put my foot down somewhere.

Ignoring the urge to leap without looking, I gauged the distance even as I slipped out of my clothing piece by piece. I couldn't jump that far as a human, but it would be easy in vulpine form. Assuming Kira untied herself in the interim, my body slamming into hers should take us both to the catwalk on the other side. And, after that, we'd be home free....

"Look down!" my sister demanded one second before I tugged at my star ball and seized my animal form. My eyes flicked in the indicated direction, and I swore beneath my breath as I noted five faces peering up out of what had formerly been an entirely empty audience hall.

Gunner and his trio of pack mates stood just inside the main entrance as a unit...and if they'd been the only ones present I might have come out on the other side of my upcoming transformation alive. After all, my employer had proven himself thoughtful and trustworthy. Surely he'd understand that I wasn't evil merely because I'd been born allied with an inner fox.

So it was really the fifth face that pulled the breath out of me. Ransom. I recognized Gunner's brother from our fight at the Arena. Knew even though the distance was too great to pick out his features that the male's brow was lowered as he tried to understand what I meant to do.

Because a wolf couldn't make the leap from catwalk to child. Nor could a human. I'd only manage to save my sister if I took on the body of a fox.

Gunner might give me time to explain before tearing me to pieces. But his brother was a pack leader in charge of hundreds of werewolves. He'd toe the party line and sign my death warrant himself.

On the other hand, a nearly inaudible snap promised that Kira's rope was fraying rapidly. And she was suspended above a spine-shattering expanse of unyielding floorboards.

By my estimate, we had less than ten seconds to save her. So I shrugged off the future, ignored my audience...and, at long last, I found my fur.

# Chapter Thirty-Two

Foxes are world-class climbers and pretty good jumpers. But I wasn't just a fox. I was kitsune—ten times better than that.

So my muscles vibrated with tension as I ignored the chatter beneath me. I breathed into my stomach as Dad had taught me. Then I pushed off, nails snagging on gridded metal as I launched myself into the air.

Wind rushed past my fur and my sister giggled in delight before me. She could feel the buzz of woken star ball expanding my lungs, could sense the pure freedom that filled my heart as I embraced the form I was meant to wear.

I was a fox for five short seconds only. Had rebuilt myself into a naked woman even before slamming into a blessedly unhindered Kira. Our arms melded, our forms twisting sideways. Then we were landing half on, half off the exact catwalk I'd been aiming toward.

Or make that Kira three-quarters on and me three-quarters off the unyielding metal. "Don't fall!" my sister cried, clutching at my shoulders as I slid over the edge until only fingertips kept me aloft.

And, with a pop of returning air, vision that had narrowed into catwalk-sister-catwalk expanded back out to include the rest of the world. Snow blew in a broken window, the metal platform vibrated beneath me, and twenty feet below the world erupted into snaps and snarls of a dozen werewolves at least.

I couldn't afford to glance down, though. Not when Kira was clinging to my arms while the sway of the catwalk suggested someone rushed upward to finish the job gravity and overconfidence had begun. Clawing against the metal, I attempted to drag myself back onto the horizontal surface. After all, if I lost my nerve and my grip, who would keep my sister safe?

A broken fingernail sent a streak of agony shuddering up my spine as gravity stretched fingers closer and closer to the edge of the metal. Now I was clinging by one and a half hands only, the pain of ripped keratin causing two fingers to slip loose.

Meanwhile, the shouts from below had grown louder, as if I was already falling toward the pitched battle beneath my feet. I wasn't going to be able to chin my way back onto the catwalk, I realized. Not from this awkward angle more beneath than to one side of the surface I was attempting to attain.

"Stand back, Kira," I gritted out as my sister once again tried to help me rise and nearly toppled over the edge in the process. If I fell, I'd shift to fox form and survive, damn the consequences. On the other hand, if Kira fell then this entire rescue would have been for naught. I knew which scenario I preferred.

Of course, my sister was a pro at ignoring things she didn't want to hear. Laying down on her belly, she managed to reach all the way under my armpits this time. "You're not falling," Kira proclaimed, her voice angry even though a stream of tears dripped from both eyes to plop onto my chin.

"Kira, I'm serious," I started. "It's not going to kill me...."

And then Crow was there behind her. Was pushing my sister aside as he lifted me back onto the catwalk as easily as if I was a child. "Come," the werewolf told us, not even out of breath as he lashed out to grip both me and Kira by one arm apiece.

The hand in question latched down with predictable werewolf firmness...then Crow's fingers twitched away as if the ability to become a fox was somehow contagious and likely to rub off on him. The male eventually forced himself to regain his grip, but I took advantage of the lapse in order to glance below.

As earlier sounds had suggested, the theater was now filled to the brim with shifters, some in human and some in lupine form. There were so many that they'd pushed the building's earlier occupants out of the aisle and onto the stage then surrounded Gunner and his compatriots within a nearly seamless wall of human hands and lupine teeth. Still, despite the milling mass of movement, my eye was immediately drawn to the four small figures who had watched in horror as I shifted several moments before.

Ransom, Tank, Allen...and Gunner, whose earlier bruises were now hidden beneath streams of blood running down his arms and face.

Just as in the Arena, my employer was intent upon protecting his brother at his own expense. Unfortunately, this wasn't a battle to first blood. Instead, as I watched far-too-familiar werewolves attack in a badly coordinated yet still overwhelming wave, I winced at the growing carnage beneath my feet.

Jackal's not-quite-pack had found us. And they seemed intent upon taking Gunner and his brother down.

I should have cheered at the realization that most of the males who knew my secret were floundering beneath enemy attack. But, instead, I ripped myself out of Crow's still-lax handhold, assessing my options as I backed away from my captor's advance.

There were two ladders extending down from this particular section of the catwalk, I noted. The one Crow had been pulling us toward led left toward a rear entrance currently devoid of battling shifters. The other led right directly into the heart of the melee.

My fox nature suggested that turning left was a fine idea. Flee, protect my sister, and live to fight another day.

But I couldn't tear my eyes away from Gunner, who was now grunting out a muddled combination of battle rage and breathless agony. And no wonder since two wolves were latched onto his ankles while a human-form shifter layered punch after punch upon the alpha's unprotected chest and neck. Gunner was putting every ounce of energy he had into shielding his brother, which meant his own body was taking a beating even a werewolf couldn't stand up against for long.

It was four against approximately four million. And Kira was safe, Crow's arm encircling the girl's shoulders not to restrain her motion but rather to ensure the girl wouldn't tumble over the edge of the catwalk should she lose her footing on the descent.

For a split second, I couldn't understand why Crow thought touching me was akin to picking up dung with his bare hands while Kira was a porcelain doll in need of protection. Then I remembered that no one had seen my sister shifting. That given her lack of a star ball, Kira wouldn't be showing off her fox form in the near future either. Surely a pack of boy scouts wouldn't let an innocent twelve-year-old come to harm....

So I chose the un-fox-like path of helping the precise male slated to execute me. Chose the right ladder instead of the left.

"Wait, I'm coming with you!" Kira cried, properly assessing my decision one instant before my feet began to move.

But she was currently safe and Gunner wasn't. So sprinting toward the proper ladder, I slid down the rungs like a firefighter and landed directly in the heart of the melee.

# Chapter Thirty-Three

I was vastly outnumbered, but I'd also brought a sword to a wolf fight. No wonder the furry bodies parted before me like so many rabbits fleeing from a sharp-taloned hawk.

Unfortunately, I'd left my clothes up on that catwalk, and wolf teeth are quite effective against unprotected human flesh. Fangs clamped down around my ankle one instant before I whirled and sliced a gash along the biter's hipbone. And even though he released me with a yelp, I could feel the blood puddling atop my foot as I continued on my path.

The pain was minimal, though, compared to the agony of those before me. Because I could still see Ransom and Gunner, their heads barely visible across the sea of two-legged and four-legged opponents who had them so badly outmatched. Allen and Tank must have both donned their animal shapes for protection, but their pack leaders stood tall above the others...or as tall as they could be while fighting off dozens of werewolves with what appeared to be the a pipe wrench and the leg of a wooden chair.

They weren't just outnumbered; they were drowning. No wonder Ransom's left arm hung limply against his side while Gunner appeared to be favoring his opposite leg. I redoubled my efforts to reach them, pushing forward one slow step at a time even as I kept my ears open for any hint that Kira wasn't making good on her escape.

Slice and stab, duck and lunge. At first, only the closest members of Jackal's pack had realized I existed. But now half a dozen enemies peeled away from the Atwood brothers, arrowing directly for me instead. _"Spilt water will not return to the tray,"_ Mama noted unhelpfully, breaking into my realization that coming down here by my lonesome hadn't been the brightest idea after all.

We were losing. Of course my sword wasn't enough to make up for a horde of enemies. Ransom bellowed as a wolf broke through his brother's defenses, an agonizing scream sounded far too much like it had come from Allen's lips, and I was still too distant to make any difference in the end game that was about to go down....

But then the front doors were flung wide open and twice as many werewolves entered with Tank at the head of the charge. So the rough-featured shifter hadn't gone lupine. He'd instead fled to rustle up far more backup than I'd thought the Atwood brothers had waiting on their beck and call.

And just like that, the tide shifted. Now it was the Atwood pack who outnumbered the enemy. Meanwhile, the newcomers were also better trained in working together, their force splitting seamlessly into two groups that looped around the perimeter of the stage area while a third arrowed directly toward their bosses in the center of the action.

"And I guess I'm not needed here anymore," I murmured, leaping up onto a piece of stage furniture that had been left behind after the theater's final production. I'd avoided the high ground previously because it led away from the center of action rather than toward it. But Gunner didn't appear to need me after all....

Before relief could relax tensed muscles, though, the floor shuddered beneath my feet as something huge thundered into the outside of the building. A quieter clink of metal against tiles sent my head swiveling in yet another direction, then smoke erupted at floor level as black-clad figures raced in through every entrance point.

Wolves and two-leggers alike gagged and yelled in confusion as a gas-masked human emerged from the haze. "Call off your dogs and come out with your hands up!" the spokesman demanded, his words expanding out from a bullhorn to take over the entire space. "This is the police. You're all under arrest."

Both followers of Jackal and of the Atwoods fell to the ground without regard to alliances, hacking and coughing as tear gas broke through the battle fervor that had previously held them in its grip. Luckily, the air was clearer atop the scuffed table. So I held my breath, leapt, and barely managed to land on the closest ladder as police in riot gear streamed in every door.

"Stand down!" Gunner called across the roiling mass of mist and bodies beneath me, his voice breaking off into a desperate coughing fit halfway through the final word. But the simple knowledge that the alpha was well enough to give orders spurred my footsteps, and I managed to reach catwalk level before being forced to inhale a breath of my own.

Up here, the air was just barely breathable...and my sister, I noted was still very much present rather than having been rustled out the back door as I'd hoped she would have been. "They're fine," she told me, pointing toward the center of the battlefield where Gunner and Ransom were currently being cuffed and frog-marched out along with all the other two-legged shifters.

Unfortunately, Kira's reassurance hadn't reached only my own ears. "There's the kid!" a cop yelled from beneath us. And while his words really should have been lost amid the whines of teary-eyed werewolves, several other officials peered upwards as he spoke and moved to join in the charge.

Meanwhile, next to the wide-open front door, one tall, lean figure pushed through the sea of ailing werewolves toward us. I tried to tell myself this was just another police officer heeding the call of his compatriots, but the male's excessive height and skinny frame provoked the sinking suspicion that Kira's social worker had caught up with us at last.

It was time to get the hell out of there. But even though I turned in a frantic circle, I found no windows through which we could escape. No doors had been left unbarricaded either. And each ladder now had multiple cops streaming up its rungs.

_"The bamboo that bends is stronger than the oak that resists,"_ Mama murmured. Bending? She probably meant not only surrendering but also appearing human. So, sucking in my breath, I relinquished my weapon and donned clothes the magical way, transforming myself from naked warrior into no-really-I'm-just-an-average-civilian as quickly as I could.

Beside me, Crow's eyes widened as my weapon poofed into nonexistence. Then his fists clenched as thin filaments of magic streamed across my skin before coalescing into a cream-colored garment that might have been overlooked from ten or twenty feet away.

Up close, though, the effect was in no way overlookable. Crow had been sent to watch over me and Kira, but I could tell he was now second-guessing the decision to help me back up onto the catwalk rather than pushing me off its edge earlier. What his alpha would do when Crow reported my lapses remained to be seen....

Then the police were ripping Kira away from us, were slamming me and Crow face down into the catwalk and snapping handcuffs around our wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."

Too bad Gunner's mild-mannered cousin wasn't present this time to talk us out of our current predicament.

# Chapter Thirty-Four

We reconvened on the pavement outside, policemen working their way through the crowd and handing out tickets right and left. There was no way to take all of us into custody, but I figured we'd each end up with hefty fines. The lucky combatants were the ones who'd remained four-legged and were released into the custody of a supposed "owner" with no more than a pat on the head.

I, on the other hand, wasn't so fortunate. "What were you trying to do with the child?" one policeman demanded, wrenching me back around to face him when all I wanted was to enfold my sister in yet another well-earned hug. Kira hadn't been wearing either a coat or hat when she was taken yesterday, and I didn't like the way her teeth were chattering now.

"I'm her guardian," I countered...then paused as the same lanky figure I'd seen earlier stalked toward me out of the crowd. Sure enough, when the male ripped off his gas mask, the social worker I'd eluded one day prior emerged from behind the covering.

"You _were_ her guardian," Simon countered. "No longer. I'm taking Kira into protective custody."

"But..." I started, only to be cut off once again, this time by the sound of a shifter's voice emerging from behind my back.

"You're taking a child away from her only living family? For what reason, may I ask?"

I turned, half expecting Liam to have arrived after all. But, instead, Tank stalked forward, looking no more prepossessing than he had when I saw him last. The male's nose had been broken then reset improperly many years earlier, his eyebrows fuzzed upward to take over half his forehead, and he weighed more than both the cop and the social worker combined. Despite those facts, however, the male's voice was urbane as he pushed his way into our little grouping, placing one hand possessively upon my back.

"Who are you?" Simon demanded, attempting to separate me from the intruding werewolf. Tank was approximately as movable as a brick wall, however, so the social worker had little luck tearing us apart.

"Ms. Fairchild's lawyer," Tank answered easily. He pulled out his billfold, removed a card that did, indeed, list his job title as "Attorney-at-law." The paper was heavily textured, the letters gold-embossed and well-scripted, and I could see the cop measuring up the likelihood of ending up on the wrong side of a civil case...and finding the odds not at all to his liking. Perhaps that's why the uniformed officer took one huge step backward, leaving me alone with the social worker and the wolf.

Unfortunately, Simon was less easily intimidated. Sometime between last night and this morning, he'd apparently decided that I was an unfit guardian for a child, and he wasn't any more willing to back down now. "Social services has the right to withdraw any foster child from temporary custody without notice," he started.

"And Ms. Fairchild has the right to sue your ass back into the Stone Age," Tank replied. This time, I could smell the waves of fury radiating off the male shifter, and I wasn't surprised when Simon's fight-or-flight instincts kicked in at last. After all, humans might not be aware of the existence of werewolves...but their lizard brains knew how to protect their own skins.

"I'll be bringing this matter to my supervisor's attention," Simon said after one long moment of loaded silence, snatching the business card out from between Tank's extended fingers. But he didn't argue the matter further. Just stalked away, leaving me alone with yet another werewolf who'd recently seen me shift into vulpine form.

Luckily for the sake of my skin, Tank seemed even less interested in my secrets than Crow had been earlier. So instead of tearing into me verbally, the male left without another word, fancy business cards spreading through the crowd like confetti as he squared away matters with officer after officer until every Atwood wolf had been released from custody.

Which left me to warm up my chilled sister...who, I belatedly realized, was no longer hovering by my side. I vaguely recalled an EMT pulling Kira away to check her vitals a few minutes earlier. But now the tween was invisible, lost within the milling crowd.

And the number of bystanders appeared to be growing larger by the minute. I didn't recognize even half the faces around me, suggesting that Ransom's backup forces had been even more extensive than they'd appeared from my elevated perch in the theater. No wonder Jackal stuffed his driver's license back into his wallet after a policemen relinquished the rectangle of plastic, glaring at me only once before leading his underlings stiff-leggedly away into the snow.

I had little interest in future battles, though. Instead, I pushed between rock-hard shifters, searching for a sister who resolutely refused to be found. "Kira!" I called, not wanting to bring any more attention to myself than was absolutely necessary but driven to desperation by the absence of a sister who had disappeared without a trace only a day before.

I smelled her before I saw her. Caught a hint of caramelized sugar seconds before a raised hand waving in my direction from the other side of the street. "I'm fine!" Kira told me, voice filled with just as much wounded dignity as if I'd forgotten her age and had warned her to look both ways before crossing the street in front of her sixth-grade compatriots.

And despite everything, my lips curled upward in response. Kira was the ultimate tween, certain of her own abilities and craving independence. I loved the fact that even dangling from a rope in an abandoned theater hadn't robbed her of that trait.

Unfortunately, my own resilience wasn't through being tested. Because the search for my sister had drawn the exact sort of attention I'd been hoping to avoid.

"Mai." My name slid across the crowd like a snake stalking its dinner. And I was pretty sure that in this scenario, I was the featherless baby bird.

# Chapter Thirty-Five

Unwillingly, I turned away from Kira and sought out the alpha who had watched me shift less than an hour earlier. Gunner must have heard Crow's side of the story already, must be rewriting all of our past interactions in light of recent events....

Only, it wasn't just Gunner glowering at me from across the thinning gathering. Instead, both siblings stood shoulder to shoulder, their features so similar a stranger might have found it hard to tell them apart.

To me, though, the males were night-and-day different. Because Ransom's eyes were filled with amusement—had he somehow missed my fox fur party before all hell broke loose? Gunner, on the other hand, boasted muscles clenched so tightly I was pretty sure nobody would have been able to pull the stick out of his ass.

"Come here," Gunner growled once he saw he'd gotten my attention. And to my despair, my feet began moving in his direction no matter how hard I fought the impulse with my rational mind. It was the debt, I realized. The dragon of an owing that I'd willingly allowed to sink its claws into my flesh while Kira was caught in the grasp of someone who'd already murdered two innocents at least.

The more I fought, though, the more control slipped through my fingers. So I wasn't even able to glance sideways by the time we three settled beneath an awning and out of the snow. Instead, I peered straight ahead, noting that the huge male bodies raising my heart rate also blocked the entrance to a pawnshop. Unfortunately, it was far past closing time. So no one came out to drive the werewolves away and set me free.

"Well," Ransom said at last, breaking the silence after we'd stood there for several long seconds, nothing but white breath flowing between us in the cold. "A fox."

He paused, and for the space of one hopeful breath I thought maybe the local pack leader didn't know whatever secrets made bearing star-ball magic so dangerous for me and my kin. After all, I wasn't privy to that information. Why should a werewolf be more knowledgeable about my own heritage than I was?

But then he continued: "A kitsune. An offense punishable by death."

"My sister isn't like me," I started, lying about the one thing that truly mattered. My own fate had already hardened into certainty, but I could at least ensure Kira slipped out from beneath the descending ton of bricks before they landed on her head. "We're half-sisters. Same mother, different fathers...."

"...strange, then that fox nature travels down through the mother's line." Ransom smiled at me then, his teeth so sharp they gleamed despite the gray of incipient snowfall. He'd apparently researched this subject, or perhaps had been raised to hunt foxes at his father's knee.

Wherever Ransom's savvy came from, it was clearly bad news for me and Kira. And my first impulse, as always, was to count on fox agility to ensure my escape. To run through the crowd and snatch my sister then flee together until both Atwood brothers faded into a vague memory from our past.

But the debt didn't let me twitch a single muscle away from my current companions. And now Gunner was sliding closer to back up his sibling, fist clenched and brow lowered as pure aggression radiated off his skin.

Only, Gunner didn't face me when he finally interjected himself into the conversation. Instead, his shoulder slid between me and his brother, making promises that contradicted his unwillingness to meet my eye. "I'll take care of this."

"Hmm, yes, I do believe you will." Ransom had appeared to possess a weak underbelly in the Arena, where his brother persisted in protecting him at every turn. But now I began second-guessing the notion that Ransom was the underdog. Because the elder sibling appeared plenty authoritative at the moment, his mere presence making it difficult for me to breathe. "If you don't want me to deal with these two kitsune in the traditional manner," he informed his brother, "then you'll keep them far away from the heart of our pack."

"Of course." Gunner pushed himself further between me and the pack leader as he spoke, the wall of flesh allowing me to suck in a much-needed lungful of air. "I'll make sure they do no damage..."

"...And you'll keep an eye on them _personally_."

"Brother?" Gunner's question was careful, his eyes averted so far I could make out the pained crinkling above his cheekbones. This level of submission was traditional when speaking to a stronger werewolf, but I'd always gotten the impression that power flowed in the opposite direction between the two brothers.

Apparently I'd been wrong about a lot.

"Let me be more clear." Now I could once again smell the fur of Ransom's presence, could see the older male's eyes piercing me over his brother's shoulder as he stepped up into Gunner's personal space. "I'm done being mollycoddled. You're not the pack leader. I am. And now you'll take one huge step backwards as I stand in my rightful place at the head of the clan."

"Of course you're the pack leader." I could have told Gunner that such a placating tone wouldn't work against his brother. But apparently the younger alpha felt the need to at least try.

" _Silence._ " Whether or not Ransom was powerful enough to make that command stick, the male between us subsided instantly. And we both listened as the Atwood pack leader laid down the law. "You'll stay here until I call for you. No more manipulations to avert my orders. No more undermining my commands."

"Yes, Chief." Gunner's head bowed in acceptance. But his fists clenched when his brother refused to accept a simple affirmative.

"You'll swear it."

I kept expecting Gunner to sell me out, to decide that Kira and I weren't worthy of such a severe loss of face. But, instead, he dropped down onto one knee in the slush of snow melt without hesitation, the ice that currently froze my toes surely sliding through his clothes to bite at his skin as well.

But Gunner's feet were warmer than mine, metaphorically at least. Because he spoke so clearly that even I could feel the magic imbuing his promise. "I swear to obey you, brother, in this as in all things. From this moment forward, I am your man."

"Good," Ransom answered. Then, without a hint of compassion for the profound concession he'd dragged out of his sibling, he turned on his heel and left us both alone.

# Chapter Thirty-Six

Gunner's ensuing silence was oppressive, but I had more important matters on my mind than a glowering alpha's injured pride. Matters like Kira, whose facade of spunky indifference faded the instant the last police officer rolled away in his patrol car, leaving us alone with one painfully silent alpha and the three pack mates who'd chosen self-imposed exile over returning to the heart of their clan.

"Let's go home," I suggested, taking in the way my sister's lower lip was beginning to quiver while the arm I'd slung around her waist did most of the work of holding the girl upright. Kira sagged in silent acceptance of my game plan, and I hugged her tighter in lieu of wrapping the shivering child in the jacket I no longer possessed.

Meanwhile, I glanced over Kira's shoulder at the boarded-up theater. The owner had finally arrived to lock the doors and cover broken windows, so there was no slipping inside now to grab the possessions I'd left on the catwalk. Plus, the officer in charge had warned us to get moving, the glint in his eye suggesting he'd be driving back around in a few short minutes to make sure everyone had dispersed.

So—back to our apartment, where Kira could snuggle up under the covers and I could change into non-magical garb. Unfortunately, my companions weren't impressed by my proposed retreat.

"Not a good idea," Crow offered before kneeling down to assess Allen's injuries. The accountant perching on the curb below us hadn't been one of the two males who'd died in wolf form this evening, but he hadn't come through the battle unscathed either. Instead, he hissed as Crow rolled up his left pant leg, the swelling and mottling above Allen's knee suggested he'd either broken a bone or pulled something serious on the inside.

"Yeah, stupid to go back where Kira's kidnapper can find her so easily," Tank agreed, glowering at me from under lowered brows as he joined his pack mates in the snow. Then, turning his attention to Allen, he added, "This is going to hurt" one second before wrenching the accountant's swollen leg back into place.

So, a displaced bone rather than a broken one. I pressed Kira's nose into my neck, covering her ears with my hands in an effort to cut off Allen's agonizing scream. "You could have at least offered him a sip of whiskey," I growled at the lawyer-turned-medic, surprising myself with how much Allen's pain had cut into my gut.

But werewolves were resilient. Allen offered me a reassuring smile at the same time Gunner finally reentered the conversation, stalking over to join us after seeing the last of his brother's men off. "Mai and Kira will come home with us," the alpha stated, proving that he hadn't missed our conversation even though he'd been talking to someone else a dozen yards away. With the effortless grace of a predator, he pulled Allen upright, draped a jacket around Kira's shoulders, then turned in the direction of the SUV without bothering to wait for our reply.

And I should have argued. Should have asserted my independence. But I was bone weary, any confidence that I could protect Kira on my own thoroughly shaken by recent events.

So we went. Accepted two bedrooms on the second story of the mansion—although the wrinkling of Kira's brow foreshadowed the moment five minutes later when she snuck back down the hall to bunk with me. The two of us listened to computerized gunfire emanating from the far end of the hallway where the guys were winding down to the tune of a highly violent video game, then we allowed our eyelids to gradually lower into sleep.

When I woke, five minutes or five hours later, the mansion was silent around us, my skin cold against the late-night air. Kira had rolled sideways and pulled the blankets along with her, but it wasn't just lack of bedding that sent goosebumps shivering across my skin.

_The laptop._ In the relief of surviving a pitched battle and police standoff, I'd forgotten the serial killer's MO. Had assumed that whoever initially wanted my sister was now gone without a trace, a few hours of shuteye making no difference to our own search.

But our opponent was a cat-like predator, one who enjoyed playing with his prey. Why else dangle Kira so theatrically when he could have simply tortured any secrets out of her? Why lure me in with a note on my door rather than snatching me off the street?

And what would a cat do when partially successful but cheated of the full prize he thought he deserved? He'd wait and hope the mouse would crawl back into the trap so he could snap the jaws the rest of the way shut.

I wasn't a mouse, though. I was a fox. And if I got to that laptop while the killer was still connected, perhaps I could use his own cockiness to figure out exactly who he was.

# Chapter Thirty-Seven

I slipped out of bed silently, pulling on the baggy jogging outfit Allen had lent me in lieu of absent clothing of my own. Even though the accountant was the smallest of the werewolves living in this mansion, I could barely draw the string tight enough to keep the pants up around my waist. But at least I'd stay warm this time around...and could carry my star ball in the far more useful form of a sword.

I didn't leave immediately, though. Instead, I hovered over Kira, loathe to be away from her for even an hour. Not that I thought someone would sneak into the mansion and snatch the child while she was sleeping. Our enemy didn't seem idiotic enough to break into an alpha werewolf's lair while Gunner was in residence. Still, if my sister woke and guessed where I'd gone off to...well, experience proved she'd dive into the fray without bothering to look before she leapt.

It was the cold of floorboards chilling my bare feet that suggested the solution to that particular conundrum. Sneakers. I needed shoes anyway if I was going to walk through the city two-legged, and surely even Kira would turn back to the warmth of the mansion the moment her toes froze into blocks of ice.

My feet were half an inch longer than Kira's, but I managed to stuff them into my sister's shoes anyway. Then I was gone, out the door, through the hallway, sliding down the banister in a burst of joy at the unfettered freedom I'd wrapped around myself.

Because Kira was safe and I was finally going on the offensive rather than acting like a night-blind chicken fleeing a fox in the hen house. _I_ was the fox this time. And I was ready to hunt.

But my mother's ghost wasn't so sure. _"Stepping into a melon field, standing under a plum tree,"_ she warned me, her words so adamant that I turned in a circle to make sure she wasn't actually present. But, no, I was alone in the entranceway of the mansion, only five feet distant from the freedom represented by the gargantuan front door.

Unfortunately, I remembered this particular proverb from my childhood. Remembered how I'd argued that I wasn't stealing sweets when Mama came in and found me with my hand literally stuck in the cookie jar at five years old. Gunner would judge my actions similarly if he woke in the night and found my bed empty save for Kira. I wasn't running away this time...but how was he to know that?

The resultant twinge of guilt—plus something far less identifiable—sent me creeping back up the same stairs I'd recently slid down, continuing to backtrack until I hovered indecisively outside the alpha's bedroom door. Something about this moment felt like a turning point. Like an admission that I no longer hunted solo, that I needed someone to watch my back.

_That_ thought nearly sent me scurrying back in the opposite direction as fast as my legs would carry me. But I needed to be rational here. Needed to remember that there was more at stake than my fox-sensitive pride. Ensuring I captured our opponent rather than being captured by him was more important than asserting prickly independence when Kira was the one who'd suffer if I failed.

So I didn't flee. Still, I turned the doorknob thief-in-the-dark slowly, not quite willing to commit to this path by waking Gunner up. And...he heard me anyway. Heard and was across the room before I'd caught more than the barest hint of movement out of the dark.

"I was wondering if you'd leave without me," the alpha rumbled. And when he smiled, I caught a glimpse of wickedly pointed, wolf-sharp teeth.

I must have squeaked, because Gunner stepped backwards, cold air rushing in to cool my suddenly heated cheeks. And as he moved, the moonlight played across his bare chest, sliding over muscles that my fingers suddenly itched to stroke.

So _that's_ why my subconscious had been strangely willing for me to accept a hunting partner. Apparently my instinctive side wanted to do more than _hunt_ with this wolf.

Dropping my eyes, I clenched my hand over the hilt of my sword but found little comfort in the cold weight beneath my fingers. A bladed weapon wasn't going to cut through the confusion and embarrassment that now rioted beneath my skin.

As if sensing my discomfort, Gunner's chuckle rolled over me like a warm-fingered caress, so different from the cold silence with which we'd parted earlier in the evening. "I'll put on clothes if that'll make you feel better," he offered, his voice receding into the darkness. And my feet followed after him without consideration for the self-preservation instinct that should have made me wait out in the hall.

Gunner's bedroom smelled like a jungle. Like male and power and seduction wrapped up in the crispness of fresh dew on pine needles. "I remembered the laptop," I called into the silence, hating the fact that I had to clear my throat halfway through my first sentence to ensure the rest of the words came out clear. "It's a long shot, but Kira's kidnapper might still be linked to it. He was talking to Kira through the speakers when I showed up."

"He?" And Gunner's attention was trained once again upon the mystery, the almost tangible sway he'd held over my body receding as quickly as it had begun. I was disappointed in myself for regretting the absence, which might explain why I offered more information than my companion had really asked for.

"It was a computerized voice," I answered, catching a glimpse of hard muscles rippling across Gunner's abdomen as he pulled a shirt on over his head. "Anonymous. But, yes, my gut says it was a he."

"Speaking in real time?"

"Do you really still think the killer is your brother?" I countered, attention finally snagged by the puzzling dynamics flowing between the two males. "Ransom was fighting by your side against Jackal's wolves yesterday. He let you take charge of me and Kira without batting an eye."

For a moment, I thought I'd pushed too hard. Because the granite of Gunner's aroma rose up to overtake the fresh, leafy odor, and he sank down onto the bed to lace up his boots without bothering with a reply.

But then Gunner laughed out a short "Heh" beneath his breath, glancing up at me with an almost hangdog droop to his features. "I'm still figuring out my brother," he answered, the words coming slowly as if they were just now coalescing for the very first time.

For my part, it was dawning upon me that this alpha's earlier silent treatment hadn't been anger at my actions. Gunner's instinct outside the theater had been to protect me...which had likely confused him as much as it did everybody else. So I hummed out a question, gave my companion the space to speak or not as he saw fit.

"When we were kids, Ransom was the rash one," Gunner continued after a long moment. "He made...mistakes...and was glad to have me as his compass. But maybe he's grown out of that. Maybe he doesn't need me any longer."

The pain in Gunner's voice was palpable, so I did my best to brush his worries aside. "Siblings always need one another," I countered, unable to imagine a day when Kira and I would be glad to see the other's taillights receding in our respective rear-view mirrors.

"Well," Gunner answered, neither overtly agreeing nor disagreeing. He was fully dressed now, cloth covering every delectable surface before I'd had a chance to really see any of it in the light. "Are you ready? We're less likely to wake the household if we go out the back."

# Chapter Thirty-Eight

The snow had nearly melted by the time our headlights swept across the face of the abandoned theater, illuminating the marquee. _The Importance of Being Earnest._ Were even long-ago playwrights giving me tips on how to live my life now?

"I brought a crowbar," Gunner started, then swore beneath his breath as a police cruiser came toward us from the opposite direction. I'd never known the cops to have such a presence in the Warren, but perhaps they figured an event serious enough to make the local papers merited a follow up visit...or three.

So we couldn't park out front as originally intended. Instead, we continued past our destination and waited to pull into a side alley once the police car was long out of sight. We hugged the shadows, walking like octogenarians on the way back as the previous evening's tight muscles and scabbed-over wounds hindered our progress. But aches and pains were forgotten when Gunner slipped his crowbar under the edge of a board-covered window, prompting me to stop him with one hand lightly touching his arm.

"That's going to be crazy loud," I protested, remembering the awful screech of a pried-up nail the one time I'd tried—and failed—to make our shabby apartment a little bit spiffier.

"Alternatives?" Gunner countered, cocking his head and waiting for me to come up with another way in.

Rather than answering, I tilted my chin to gaze at the barely-visible stars, trying to remember when I'd started telling alpha werewolves what to do. And as I forcibly relaxed my neck muscles, I caught a square of darkness in the third story, a broken window too high for the owner to have bothered boarding up.

"Look." I pointed upward, only realizing as I did so that neither a human nor a wolf would have even considered making such a climb.

But Gunner had already seen firsthand what I was able to shift into. So I ignored decades of conditioning and spoke openly about my secret for the very first time. "It'll be easy to get up there as a fox. Then I'll come downstairs and let you in."

I expected Gunner to growl at the overtness of my offer. But, instead, his voice was almost too level to be natural as he answered me after a short pause. "You'll fall."

"I won't. The climb is easy. Especially if you give me a boost onto that ledge."

There was something flowing between us that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and I held my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. But instead of acting the way I'd always been told werewolves would respond to my foxishness, the alpha merely waved one hand. "Be my guest."

Which is when I remembered the prerequisite for donning red fur. Getting naked. Right here in front of Gunner, with no other eyes present to depersonalize the effect.

It took three throat clearings before I managed to spit out the solution. "Turn around," I demanded.

Gunner was amused, I could smell that in the air between us. Still, he obeyed me, and I quickly slid out of Allen's jogging suit and Kira's sneakers before assuming my animal form.

Only then did I realize my companion had been peeking. Caught the glint of his eyes skimming across my completely un-wolf-like fur and body. The contact was nearly tangible in its intensity....

But Gunner didn't growl or move to attack. Instead the big, scary alpha werewolf got down on one knee and offered his left arm as a ramp leading up onto his shoulder. "Come on. I'll give you a leg up."

I slipped through the window as easily as if I spent hours every day four-legged rather than donning my fur once every other blue moon. No wonder Kira seized every opportunity to frolic as a fox. Light-assisting vulpine pupils made it a breeze to scamper through the upper story in near darkness, and I barely managed to force myself back into human form upon reaching the closed door at the top of the stairs.

_Thumbs,_ I reminded myself. _Doorknobs require thumbs._

Shivering out of my fur, I came to stand two-legged atop the rough floorboards. And, at first, I thought the goose bumps breaking out on my skin were the result of unheated air brushing up against abruptly furless skin.

But my seldom-utilized animal nature refused to go back to sleep now that it had been wakened. And the stairs yawned dark and cavernous before my dilated eyes.

Shaking off the strange case of the willies, I tiptoed down without calling upon my star ball for illumination. There was always a slight chance an enemy remained in the building, or that one had returned after the police sweep to mop up curious foxes like myself. Better to stub my toe than to arrive heralded by the glow of a magical flashlight....

Unfortunately, walking blind resulted in more than toe stubbing. I was halfway down the stairs when my heel brushed against soft fur in the darkness. And I'm ashamed to admit I emitted a rather feminine "Eek!" as I leapt a foot into the air.

The mouse—it _was_ only a mouse—ran chittering into the darkness. _Get a grip_ , I told myself firmly. After multiple police sweeps, the theater was unlikely to house critters larger than a rodent.

So I pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs at a normal pace and strode directly out onto the back of the stage area. _Huh._ This wasn't where I'd expected to end up when I started down the stairwell. Still, I was here, so I might as well poke around a little. Grab the laptop. Maybe even head up to the catwalk and collect my discarded clothing so I didn't end up facing Gunner a second time in my birthday suit.

But the laptop wasn't present. Instead, the thinnest trickle of sound caught at the edge of my consciousness as I batted aside dusty curtains and got down on my belly to peer at the floor below the stage. I didn't even realize I was hearing something, actually, until I found myself humming along to a tune from both my distant and recent past.

_Mama's music box._ For the first time all night, my teeth sharpened into the fox equivalent of a werewolf's hunting instinct and I padded silently toward the dressing rooms from which the trail of melody had emerged.

He'd come back. Of course the serial killer hadn't depended upon an anonymous computer voice to make contact. Not when my vulpine curiosity was bound to bring me here before the sun rose....

Which meant I was finally going to get a chance to vanquish Kira's kidnapper, to ensure that my sister never again worried when she walked the streets alone.

There was a light before me now. The flickering glow of a candle visible as I entered the hallway leading to a series of changing rooms. My prey must have grown tired of waiting in the darkness, choosing to camp out in the room at the end of the line. This was almost too easy....

I took one step forward...then spun faster than mere human muscles would have been capable of as I felt the presence of something much larger than a mouse materializing behind my back.

Of course he wasn't waiting by the candle. Any good warrior knows you feint before you attack.

Sure enough, the cloaked figure who arose out of the shadows before me was as anonymous as he was dangerous. His face was hidden beneath a pitch-black hood, the enveloping fabric preventing me from telling anything other than his height—which, as usual, was considerably taller than my own.

But I didn't spend long trying to eke out the being's identity. Because he held in his hand the root of this entire hassle—my mother's star ball converted into a glowing sword.

# Chapter Thirty-Nine

"The light distraction was clever," I admitted even as I brought my own magical weapon up into an on-guard position. "But you can't sneak up on a fox."

Predictably, my enemy failed to answer, just lunged forward with speed that proved he was more than human. And even though my well-honed reaction should have been a parry, some instinct told me to twist out of the way instead.

Dodging, unfortunately, wasn't the best move against a sword-wielding opponent. But at least I managed to twist far enough away so his blade snagged a lock of hair rather than slicing through living flesh. And as I pivoted in preparation for the hooded figure's next movement, Mama spoke for the first time in over an hour.

_"Even monkeys fall from trees."_

"I _am_ being careful," I hissed in response, wishing my dead mother would speak plainly and tell me what I was missing here. Was I just jumping at mice when I chose not to engage with my attacker...or was there a real reason not to counter his lunge with my sword?

Unfortunately, I had no time to prod at my mother's ghostly warning. Because my opponent was dancing sideways in a move far too similar to Mama's signature sidle to be coincidence. And I found myself backpedaling rapidly while memories flowed fast and furious through my brain.

The park. My parents. Swordplay and laughter, practice merging into dancing. Dad was straightforward and powerful, light on his feet but not the best feinter if you were familiar with his favorite moves. In contrast, Mama's motions were akin to a leaf dancing along invisible air currents, totally erratic for those of us unable to see the wind.

And this person before me was moving just like Mama had. Was twisting and leaping so mercurially I didn't know where he was going to end up next. Only my vulpine senses helped me dodge a second blow, and this time my enemy's blade flicked sideways just in time to nick my bare hip.

It burned. Not like the usual slice of a blade through muscle; more like running into a flaming torch with the sensitive skin of a cheek or a hand. Was this why both Mama and my gut had both warned me not to touch the stolen star ball? Had Kira's kidnapper tapped into kitsune powers I wasn't even aware of...or was there something deeper at work?

As I pondered, the figure before me drifted sideways, forcing me to pivot to keep him in my sights. Or should that be "her"? Because with the cloak covering my opponent's body, there was no way to tell whether I faced a tall woman or an average-height man. The only visible flesh was long fingers wrapped around the sword hilt, and even those appendages could have belonged to a member of either sex....

Suddenly, I had to know who my opponent was. If Mama's sword bit me again in the process so be it. But I couldn't keep fighting while wondering whether this being might be the parent I thought long dead.

So I went on the offensive. Eyed a folded chair leaning against the wall as I skipped sideways. Then took a running leap, using the top of the chair to fuel my forward motion before pivoting midair to aim toward my opponent's head.

The chair clattered against hard floor tiles. And, vaguely, I noted the sound of a crowbar prying at a window-covering in the distance, the result just as teeth-clenchingly loud as I'd known it would be.

Looked like Gunner had lost patience and decided to break in after all. Not good news with cops patrolling the street.

I didn't possess a single spare breath, though, to suggest that Gunner cool it on the screeching. Because Mama's sword was swiping toward me, proving the error of my original plan.

After all my trajectory had been decided by the way I'd pushed off the wall seconds earlier. No amount of twisting or flailing of my arms now would send me scudding sideways to prevent my opponent's blow from hitting home.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I shifted midair, flickering into my smaller fox form and sliding unharmed under the sword thrust before landing atop my opponent's cloth-covered head.

As I regained my equilibrium, the sword whizzed past so close that it nearly nicked one of my long red ear tips. Air buffeted, claws dug for traction, and Mama screeched inside my head: _"The broken mirror cannot be made to shine!"_

If I'd possessed human vocal cords, I would have yelled back that it was unhelpful to toss out oblique warnings to someone in the middle of a pitched battle. But, instead, I scrabbled at the fabric beneath my pads, yanking the hood with my teeth then leaping away before my enemy could decide whether it was safe to bring that stolen blade closer to his or her forehead.

And this time, my move was successful. I didn't glance back over my shoulder to peer at my receding enemy, but I could feel the hood fluttering down upon my tail as I darted away. Soon, I'd know exactly who had bought my mother's star ball then paid Ma Scrubbs to have my sister kidnapped....

Unfortunately, my opponent only laughed in reaction to being disrobed. And I could see why as I spun back around, understanding at the same time why the evidence of amusement had come out so muffled and low.

Because my enemy had taken his or her cover-up seriously. Beneath the hood was a black ski mask, the only flashes of humanity revealed by my action being two dark eyes and a tiny circle of a mouth. Meanwhile, I spat out the bitterness of baking soda, understanding why I'd failed to pick up even the barest hint of an odor while standing on my enemy's head.

The laugh itself might have been a clue, but unfortunately I wasn't that lucky. Instead, the low-pitched sound was entirely androgynous even as my opponent continued to chortle beneath his or her breath.

And this time I'd had enough. Jumping upward into humanity, I staggered once due to the speed and frequency of my recent shifts. But then I was screaming out my anger, sword raised as I mimicked a samurai swooping in for the kill.

I was done with caution. It was time to use my skills to take this enemy down.

# Chapter Forty

"Mai!" Gunner's voice threaded toward me through the otherwise empty building. Vaguely, I noted that my recent yell might have sounded like pain rather than aggression to a distant werewolf. But I could ease the alpha's worries later. For now, I had a fight to win.

Spinning on the balls of my feet, I dodged beneath my opponent's sword, continuing to pretend my only impulse was defense. It wasn't, though. Because I'd stopped worrying about my sword touching my opponent's the moment I lost my temper. Which opened up an endless array of opportunities in the fight ahead.

In the end, I chose the simplest game plan—feigning a stumble in order to bait my cloaked enemy to attack. Predictably, my opponent responded just as I'd expected. He or she easily bypassed my flailing sword arm then lunged toward my left shoulder. All I had to do was wait until the last moment then raise my own weapon in three...two...one....

_"No!"_ Mama started, the word perhaps the beginning of a proverb or perhaps her first attempt at giving it to me straight.

And then images flickered behind my eyeballs. Mama on her deathbed, hands shaking as they reached out to fold my much smaller hands around the hilt of a sword so similar to my own. _"This is yours now. Keep it safe until your sister is old enough to understand its power."_

Even though the memory was twelve years old, I still remembered the tingle that ran through me...and the way clinging to Mama's glowing star ball had eased my grief over the months afterwards. Because while my mother's physical body had faded into absence, her spirit had remained beside me for more than a decade. The warm security of her presence had wandered afield to help Kira shift at frequent intervals, but it had always flowed back in my direction whenever I cared to call.

Except the warmth was fading fast now that I actively fought against that beloved connection. The chill began in my feet and quickly engulfed my entire body as I placed my own sword right where it needed to go to slice Mama's star ball violently aside.

I tried to mitigate the offensive at the last moment, understanding too late that magic works on intention first and foremost. I'd launched this attack from a place of rage and hatred, and that might just be enough to finally split my dead mother and me apart.

Which wasn't at all want I wanted. I hoped to cling to the tiny fragment of Mama's undying spirit, to keep her close and listen to pesky proverbs if that was the only way she could communicate from beyond the grave.

But my change of heart came too late. Two thin streams of magical weaponry met for the very first time with a bell-like tone rather than with the usual clang of reverberating metal. And as they did so, an electrical jolt racked my body, the shock hitting me one instant before the connection to my mother's memories winked abruptly out.

I hadn't appreciated what I possessed until it was gone, I now realized. Hadn't appreciated how much I depended upon Mama's silent—and recently not-so-silent—presence to buoy me up. Had I thrust her spirit into the void without a life boat? Or—worse—was she now being forced to empower my opponent, a free spirit turned into a prisoner within the enemy's cloaked form?

No wonder the hooded figure's eyes crinkled with pleasure. No wonder my muscles turned to water even as my opponent's hardened into stone.

The shock at losing a part of myself that I hadn't fully realized was present loosened my grip until it was all I could do to cling onto my sword as I was pushed backward against the wall. I couldn't even struggle. Lacked the presence of mind to duck down and out of my opponent's grasp before being pinned by someone considerably larger and stronger than myself.

I was trapped between a serial killer and a hard place....

Then I was spinning sideways. My neck whiplashed, my limbs flailed in a vain attempt to catch my balance.

And when I came at last to stillness, the back of my skull was pressing hard against the floorboards while I peered up into the panting face of a tremendous male wolf.

# Chapter Forty-One

The werewolf's breath was hot against my forehead, his teeth inches away from the soft spot beneath my chin. No wonder I shifted into fox form, depending on animal instinct to wriggle free before I could be eaten alive.

But the wolf was having none of it. He grabbed my newly materialized ruff and shook me so severely my teeth clattered together. And even after I was suitably chastised, the male continued standing stiff-legged atop my crumpled body while a deep growl rumbled up out of his massively broad chest.

Which is about the time I realized this wasn't my sword-wielding opponent. This was Gunner, turned guardian while letting our true quarry escape behind his back. I'd always known alpha werewolves were idiots, but I hadn't expected behavior as ass-backwardly overprotective as this.

Unfortunately, I couldn't shift forms in order to berate him. Not when the reservoir of magic within my belly had gone quiescent with exhaustion, refusing to even create a minor electrical shock to tingle against Gunner's skin. Without Mama's star ball to strengthen me, I apparently had far less stamina than I was accustomed to possessing.

So I lay there panting, unable to so much as twitch without provoking another growl from the alpha straddling my body. Meanwhile, the anonymous being who had paid for my sister's kidnapping after killing two innocent humans disappeared without a trace.

We might have remained stuck in that stalemate all night, too, had a trickle of smoke not emerged from the changing room at the end of the hall. _The candle,_ I thought at first, shoulders relaxing back down away from around my ears.

But the stench flowing over us was too foul to have emerged from one small chunk of wax and cotton. Meanwhile, beneath the smoke, I caught the unmistakable scent of gasoline, suggesting our enemy had left us with a parting gift far more serious than one overturned candlestick.

Gunner must have smelled it too because his eyes widened, his signature scent of unyielding granite giving way to the more malleable aroma of ozone and dew. Then my captor became my herder. Nudging me erect then chivvying my footsteps, he pushed me down the hall then out onto the stage proper. And when I veered toward my favorite leather jacket, he hip-bumped me away before literally pushing me out through the unboarded window he'd recently used to enter the building.

In the semi-fresh air of the outdoors, my companion finally managed to shift while I merely dragged my feet a few inches further from the theater that I suspected would soon go up in flames. There was no sign of the conflagration on the exterior just yet, but the building was so very old and built almost entirely out of wood....

"There's a fire," Gunner growled into his cell phone just as the first brilliant streak of orange rose into the barely lit neighborhood. "The theater. Find a burner phone then call 911."

So it was his pack he'd contacted rather than the fire department. " _Clever wolf,"_ I mumbled, realizing only after I'd spoken that, of course, I was in vulpine form. So the words came out as a thready whine rather than as understandable human communication.

Gunner didn't look down, but his hand dropped onto my forehead even as his scent hardened further in reaction to whatever his pack mate was relaying over the phone. "The whole apartment?" He paused, listened to something I should have been able to hear in my fox form but couldn't quite manage to focus upon while my body was melting into the watery slush beneath my feet. "And the Ebay account was wiped also?"

Wait, they were talking about _my_ apartment and _Kira's_ Ebay account. Did that mean the last possible trail leading to our serial killer had iced over during the night?

Forcing myself erect with an effort, I realized only after raising a hand to my aching head that I was standing on two human feet rather than on four furry ones. No wonder I was shivering, the effort of the shift creating a watery haze that obstructed my view.

Those weren't tears, I told myself. Not over a rented space that had formed the bare minimum shelter necessary to keep body and soul together rather than representing any sort of home.

By the time I'd blinked the obstruction out of my eyes, Gunner was already slipping into his clothes and turning off his phone. "Here," my companion told me, pulling Allen's sweatshirt over my head far more gently than I'd thought him capable of before thrusting the matching sweatpants and Kira's shoes into my arms. "We need to make tracks."

So we ran away from the flaming theater together. Fled toward a shiny SUV that promised to carry us to a tremendous mansion nothing like the rat-infested apartment I was used to...and all I really noticed along the way was the fact that the vehicle's heated seats eased a tiny bit of the chill away from my frozen heart.

It would have taken a full-fledged sauna to heat me through at that moment though. And I reached into my mind, hoping for a proverb— _any_ proverb—instead of the terrible silence that resolutely filled my brain like a thick blanket of snow. "I think I made a terrible mistake," I murmured, only realizing I'd spoken aloud when Gunner glanced toward me, cocking his head in question.

"Your sister's safe," he offered when my flood of self-recrimination became dammed into silence by the dryness of my throat.

"For now," I countered, voice croaking as I forced further explanation out through parched lips. "But I just gave a serial killer power over my mother's star ball. And if I lose custody of Kira...."

Then a water bottle was being inserted between my trembling fingers, a large hand guiding mine up to tilt the much-needed moisture into my mouth. "You're among wolves now," Gunner promised, the words far less ominous than they would have been one week prior. "Our pack will solve this together."

And even though I'd been trained since birth to catch sight of a werewolf then run in the opposite direction as quickly and stealthily as possible, I believed the words of the alpha beside me. Sank back against the buttery leather seat and relaxed into acceptance.

I was no longer alone. Together, Gunner and I would figure this out.

_Did you enjoy_ Wolf's Bane _? If so, you won't want to miss Mai's second run-in with the stealer of her mother's star ball in_Shadow Wolf _._

* * *

_Or why not take a quick side trip and learn more about kitsunes, how Gunner came to terms with Mai's identity, and what Kira thought of moving in with werewolves in the Moon Marked bonus pack,free to newsletter subscribers? To sweeten the pot, I'll throw in two additional werewolf novels so you don't have to come up for air for days._

* * *

_Thanks for reading! You are why I write._

# Desert Hunt

### Anna Lowe

# Prologue

"Rae!"

It was a barked order, not a request.

Rae gritted her teeth and counted to five before turning slowly and facing the source: Sabrina, the daughter of the wolf pack's ruling alpha. The girl was seventeen and still a spoiled brat. Rae didn't want to imagine what the girl might be like in another couple of years.

"My father wants you in his office. Now." Sabrina underpinned the command with a flick of her glossy mane.

Rae wouldn't have thought it possible for a wolf shifter to be a princess, but there it was. Sabrina made damn sure she punctuated every sentence with a jangle of gold bracelets and the same two words— _my father_ —reminding everyone of the pecking order around here.

That was one of the bitter truths of pack hierarchy. The alphas and their offspring ruled the roost, and the rest of the pack had no choice but to fight or submit. Twenty-eight hardscrabble years had taught Rae that all too well.

She chipped another little piece off her soul and did as directed, pretending to be like the others. A good little female meant for hearth and home—and definitely, definitely, not for the hunt.

She worked off the tension steeling her jaw, reminding herself she had something far, far more special in her heritage than alpha blood. Something secret. But she'd be damned if she let on to anyone. A pack would claim her forever if they found out, and then she'd never be free.

"Do you ever bother looking in a mirror?" Sabrina eyed Rae's tangled hair.

_Not nearly as often as you._ Rae nearly shot the words out but caught herself on the first syllable. So what if her long brown hair was usually thrown into a loose ponytail? So what if her figure said _athlete_ and not _cover girl_? That's who she was, and she liked it that way. She'd leave the plunging necklines to curvy girls like Sabrina, because attracting unwanted attention could be a dangerous thing.

She set off, finger-combing her hair on the way to the alpha's office and flicking away a burr she'd picked up that morning. So she'd been out wandering again. Was that so wrong for one of their kind?

Except she wasn't exactly their kind. Oh, she was a wolf shifter all right, but one born to another pack. And even back home in Colorado, she'd always been different. The one who didn't quite fit in.

Her inner wolf let out a snort. _A lot different. If only they knew._

Rae eyed the alpha's office door warily before giving it a nervous knock. There was a grunt, and she entered, dropping her eyes in the required sign of subordination to the grizzled old alpha and his haughty mate. Even after all these years at Westend pack, the gesture didn't come easily.

"Your lucky day has come," Roric announced, curt and cold. "Pack your things."

For this alpha, a smile and a sneer were one and the same. What did he mean by _lucky day?_

Rae glanced uncertainly at Roric's mate, who frowned in acid disapproval of Rae's dusty jeans, her plain blue T-shirt, her... Well, her everything.

"Get moving." Roric jutted his square chin toward the door. "Another pack is willing to try you out for a season."

Rae's heart thumped. She'd been hoping something would come along in another pack—a job, an internship, anything. She'd had enough of Nevada. Not so much the heat or the dusty flats but the stifling hierarchy of Roric's Westend pack. That and the fact that these shifters had sold their souls. Gambling was big business in Nevada, but as far as Rae was concerned, it was a business wolf packs had no place in. What happened to their connection to the earth, to the old ways?

Unfortunately, Roric's pack had only let go of _some_ of the old ways. They'd clung to the rest: the crushing, absolutist authority, the strict delineation of male and female roles. The only consolation was that Roric wasn't as bad as some others—like the alpha Rae had fled in Colorado ten years earlier. Here, her body was safe. And by now, she'd learned the ropes. If she toed the line carefully, she had a modicum of freedom. After all, no one ever paid attention to what the odd wolf out did on the night of a new moon.

But who knew what it would be like in a different pack?

"Where?" she blurted.

Roric waved a lazy hand as if it were all the same to him. But that gesture, like so many others, was probably rehearsed. The alpha didn't do anything without analyzing it for the benefits—to him and his pack. Individual wishes didn't register on his list.

"Arizona. Twin Moon Ranch."

She caught a breath. When she'd put in a request for a transfer, she'd been thinking East Coast, where the packs were said to be more modern-minded. But Arizona? Wolf packs in the Four Corners area were known to be old school. And Arizona—that was old-old school. Who knew what kind of alpha she'd have there?

She glanced around, second-guessing herself. Westend had never felt like home, but did she really want to start all over again?

The hard faces greeting her provided all the answer she needed: the decision was made.

"Who knows," the alpha female added with a conspiratorial glance at her partner. "You might finally find a suitable mate there."

Rae hid the stutter in her breath. Was that a hint? A threat? The room leaned in over her, as enclosed spaces always did. She let her chin dip into the briefest nod, asking—begging—to be dismissed while her mind spun. _Arizona?_

Roric flicked a finger toward the door. She was released.

"Good luck," Sabrina called, her tone clashing with the words.

Right, luck. Rae had been in Nevada long enough to know that it took a hell of a lot of waiting to win at any gamble. Better to make her own luck, or at least stack the odds in her favor.

She hurried to her room, forcing calm over her mind as she decided which of her few belongings mattered enough to take. Topping the list was her recurve bow and a freshly fletched set of arrows, with a few silver-tipped ones, just in case. Because there were wolves, and there were _wolves_. Who knew what Arizona might bring?

# Chapter One

Zack stretched and squinted into the morning sun. He took a deep, testing breath and got a lungful of promise. He did it again, just to be sure. No, he hadn't been dreaming. The desert really was alive with an enticing new scent. One of those fresh, optimistic scents that said spring was coming and everything would be new, good, and clean. He'd gotten home late last night after a week away tracking, but the scent had struck him the minute he rolled his Harley back onto the ranch. Something like the fragrance of a century plant in bloom—something that didn't come along but once in a very long time.

He looked around, searching for the first hints of spring as he walked the meandering path that connected his hermit's cabin to the bustling central part of the ranch. But nothing was blooming, at least not yet. The ocotillo weren't showing any scarlet buds, nor were the manzanitas giving any hint of color.

So what the hell was that scent?

He sniffed again, figuring it was one of those tricks of nature. The desert was full of mirages that showed a man what he wanted to see, only to cackle and whisk them away. For all that his Navajo mother had tried instilling the beauty of nature in him, his white father's skeptical nature seemed to win out. The desert was simply another place on earth—just emptier, quieter, and more dangerous than the rest.

He wound around the ranch outbuildings, heading for the work shed. A tracker's job was an on-and-off gig that he balanced with projects on the ranch. This past week, he'd been tracking trespassers on the north edge of pack territory. A gang of three, it seemed, who'd long since come and gone. Nothing to worry about.

Today seemed like a normal morning on the ranch with the usual guys out on the usual jobs. Except that Ty, the pack's second-in-command, was over there, looking like a thundercloud that had stalled on a craggy mountain peak. Zack pulled up in midstep, wondering what was wrong. Ty was hacking at the earth like it was his mortal enemy.

"Hey," Zack called by way of greeting. He walked up and steadied the fence post while Ty chopped the earth around it in short, angry swipes.

"Hey," Ty grunted without looking up.

For Ty, that passed for warm and fuzzy. Anyone but Zack, his oldest friend, would have earned an outright growl.

The funny thing was, they had no business being friends. They'd both known it, even as kids. As the alpha's oldest son, Ty couldn't mix with just anyone and neither could the no-good half-breed from out on the western fringe of the ranch. Yet somehow, that was enough to bond them in spite of the odds.

"You okay?" Zack ventured, watching Ty hack away.

"Sure. Good."

Zack lifted an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. He sighed and found himself savoring the air. That scent was stronger down here on the ranch. A scent that tempted him to hope for something better in life. He bent his head against it, concentrating on his work. Hope only led to disappointment—a lesson he'd learned young and hard.

Of course, that lesson only held true for some people. Hope sure seemed to work for people like Ty's younger brother Cody, who was walking by now, chipper as always.

"Heya, Zack! Ty!"

Zack gave him a nod. Yes, optimism worked if you were the younger son of an alpha and life laid a golden path before your feet. Light on responsibility but heavy on privilege.

Ty straightened, bringing his six-foot-two frame eye to eye with Zack's. As the oldest son and heir apparent, Ty had it the other way around: heavy on responsibility, light on privilege. These days, his intense eyes pretended he was more machine than man, but Zack knew the truth. Inside was a man yearning to breathe free.

Funny how two friends could be so different, yet so very much alike.

Working and sweating side by side... They hadn't done that in a while, and it felt good. Zack could forget he was the son of a vagrant wolf and a coyote mother, and Ty could pretend he could take on the whole world all by himself.

"You got it?" Ty murmured.

"Got it."

They switched places, Ty bracing the post while Zack excavated. He couldn't resist another long drag of that air. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. That scent was full of color and life and... Damn it, there it was again: promise.

A dog huffed in the distance, and a woman turned the corner at the very same moment that the desert expunged another breath of that sweet, clear air. Zack watched her glide by with an easy, graceful step, and his wolf gave an appreciative whistle before launching into one of his inner monologues.

_Bet she could run for miles._

Yeah, she probably could.

_Bet she could scale the hills without losing her breath._

That, too.

_Bet she could lead a wolf on a chase to remember..._

He slammed the brakes on there and gave his head a firm shake.

"Check it out," one of the ranch hands whispered to another. Zack's keen ears caught every word. "The new girl."

"Yeah, welcome to the ranch, sweetheart," the other ranch hand said, not loud enough for her to hear.

Zack's inner wolf growled.

With that windswept almond hair and lanky limbs, she was much, much too appealing for her own good. The defiant jut of her chin wasn't for show; this was a woman ready to defend her cause, whatever it was. Pretty and totally unafraid. A dangerous combination for an unclaimed female away from her home turf.

Zack followed her movements much longer and closer than he'd intended. Everything about her said wild, tangled, and free. Everything he wanted to be.

A dozen pairs of eyes trailed after her as she strode across the work yard, with one strap of her overalls loose, the other tight. A new female on the ranch was always cause for speculation, and a colt-legged, sharp-eyed country girl like this scored highest of all. And from the looks of it, _score_ was on every man's mind.

He tested the air. She was a shifter, all right. He could sense the wolf in her, see the self-control holding the beast in check. It was right there, under the surface—closer than most females shifters allowed their wolves, as if she was on guard. The question was, on guard against what?

_Not your type,_ part of his brain ordered. _Definitely not your type._

_Just my type,_ his wolf growled.

_Exactly my type,_ his coyote agreed.

That's what he got for being a mixed-breed: two voices in his head, even if he only ever shifted into the same canine body—big as a wolf with the dun-colored coat and pointed muzzle of a coyote. But the voices were always separate inside, and the wolf and coyote parts of his brain rarely agreed.

_We agree on her,_ both chuckled at the same time.

# Chapter Two

Zack watched a dog run up to the new girl, putting on a snarling show. But she stopped it with a single firm syllable. Within a minute, she'd turned the vicious mutt into a leg-thumping puddle of mush. Half the guys in sight looked like they'd be ready to do the same until a harsh whisper broke the mood.

"Crap! Look."

"Quick. He's coming."

Everyone scrambled back to work as the sound of booted feet stalked into the yard. Old Tyrone, senior alpha of the pack, was approaching, and everybody went on high alert. Zack's shoulders tensed and he gripped the post tighter. Ty did, too; he could sense it.

The alpha stomped right up to Zack, clamped a viselike hand over the back of his neck, and squeezed. Zack held his breath and stood very, very still. From a distance, the older man's gesture might pass for a wise old alpha leaning in to give a young up-and-comer a word of well-meaning advice.

Something like, _Doing good, son?_

As if the old man had ever taken the time to give him words like that.

_Good job on the last tracking assignment._

That would be like a foreign language, though. The only praise he'd ever gotten came from soothing female voices like Aunt Jean's, or his mother's, a long time ago.

But this was old Tyrone, and his grip was a threat. A warning.

_My son will be alpha of this pack someday._ That's what the gesture said. _You, boy, are nothing. You never will be. Dare to think otherwise and I will snap your dirty neck._

As a kid, it had been terrifying.

As an adult, it should have been laughable. Zack had done a lot of growing since then, topping out a good two inches over the alpha. He could take on the grizzled old man if he wanted. But why would he want to? He would never do anything that might threaten the stability of his pack.

He shrugged out of the hold. What was the old man warning him off now? The woman? He could have snorted. All he wanted was to finish the day's work so he could get out in the open and find whatever it was that was tickling him inside. That scent—everything in him screamed to track it down until he knew it, understood it, rubbed himself in it. To possess even a tiny part of it.

His coyote sniffed the air, considering. _That scent is nice. New._

_Mine,_ the wolf snarled.

Zack stood quietly, willing Tyrone away.

The old man rolled his knuckles until they cracked, waiting for Zack to submit. Except submissive wasn't in Zack's blood, and they both knew it.

He wished the old alpha would just get it. Was he a born alpha? Yes. Did he have to challenge pack leadership to prove it? No. All he wanted was his own space, and out on the periphery was fine with him. He'd never do anything to the detriment of the pack. Never. Why couldn't the old man get that?

_Back off, old man,_ Zack's wolf snarled inside, though he held perfectly still.

It was Ty who broke the impasse by clearing his throat—turning the old man's ire on him.

"You talk to her yet?" the old alpha growled at his son.

Zack nearly answered. _Not yet._ Because it felt like he ought to have talked to the woman, or he already had. Like he somehow knew her, or they'd met before.

But the question wasn't directed at him. It was aimed at Ty, who let a second tick by before answering.

"Not yet." His voice was so low, it could have been a rumble from behind the hills.

"When then?"

What the hell was that all about?

"When I decide," Ty growled back.

"There's nothing to decide. Just do it," the old man ordered.

Zack had to wonder what was worse: having an absent bastard of a father, like his own, or an all-too-present bastard of a father, like Ty's. The old man was always there, looking over his son's shoulder. Over everyone else's, too.

Old Tyrone aimed another glare of warning at Zack—who stared back—before releasing a regal grunt and moving away.

Another minute ticked by before either Zack or Ty released a breath. Ty scratched at his ear and drilled his heel into the ground, suddenly weary.

"The new girl, Rae..." he started.

Zack glanced at the retreating figure as the letters roller-coastered through his mind. Rae. A name for the face already imprinted on his memory. Something rumbled low in his gut before she turned a corner and disappeared, taking the breeze of promise with her.

Two of the younger ranch hands strode purposefully after her, only to suddenly divert under Tyrone's withering glare.

"Make sure none of the guys mess around with her," Ty finished, his voice grim.

Zack barely arrested the sharp swivel of his head. What did Ty care for the newcomer?

He hazarded a covert sniff of his friend. A second sniff confirmed the first: there wasn't a trace of lust on the alpha-in-waiting. Ty hadn't shown sincere interest in any woman for years—at least, no interest in anything more than a quick romp and roll. The local girls threw themselves at him like a herd of lovesick broodmares but rarely lucked out, unless Ty's wolf decided to sample the offerings. His human side was more restrained and had been for years. Ever since the time he'd come home from a trip and gone half out of his mind, searching for a mate that didn't exist.

And there it was: proof that the desert was full of tricks. If Ty—unmovable, unassailable Ty—could be thrown into a tailspin over a mystery scent, then Zack should be on guard, too.

He willed his nostrils to stop testing the air as he covertly regarded his friend. If it wasn't lust, why did Ty care about the woman? The only emotion he could pick up in Ty was a platonic kind of protectiveness, the kind he showed around any man who had the nerve to prowl too close to his sisters. Maybe Rae was a distant cousin or something. Maybe that's why old Tyrone pushed Zack away.

"We need a new post-hole digger," Ty grumbled as the tool snapped with a rusty crunch. "Damn thing's broken."

"How broken?" Zack used a familiar old line from their childhood to ease some of the tension.

Ty didn't smile, but his head bobbed. "Broken enough."

Part of Zack wanted to go back to those more innocent days, while another part knew it was no good. Nothing would change the way things were now.

"Got it." He nodded back and set off for the tool shed, crossing the open space in a couple of long strides.

Even before he turned the corner to the shed, his ears picked up the sound of jangling bells, low moos, and sharp whistles. The cattle were being herded to the stock pens.

He cleared the turn and saw a hundred head coming his way. In a minute, they'd be at the narrow neck between the barn and a long row of sheds. He let out an impatient breath and moved aside. There was no way through until the cattle funneled out.

They swept toward him, lowing and huffing, kicking up a cloud of dust that threatened to consume a figure in front of him. It was the new girl—woman, he corrected himself; despite her tomboy look, everything about her screamed hot-blooded woman—moving out of their path. Step by step, she backed up to the line of sheds. Another step, and she was right in front of Zack, still blind to his presence. One more, and his hands went up in warning just as she pressed into him, her back to his front.

_Warm_ , was all his mind registered at first.

_Tight_ , his fingers added, feeling the muscles wrapped around her middle like a corset.

_Sweet_ , his body hummed, picking up her scent.

_Mine_ , his wolf growled, starting to pace inside the mental cage Zack had constructed around that side of his being.

Because the scent that had him on tenterhooks all morning wasn't washing in from the open desert. It was coming from her. It _was_ her.

Something in her called to him—to a deep, primal part that didn't know the meaning of no.

"Gotcha," he half-whispered, half-growled.

His ears filled with the ringing of more than just the cowbells. It was an internal alarm triggered as she squeezed even closer, her tight rear setting off fireworks in his groin. The fine line of her back curved into his chest in a custom fit, and his thoughts shattered into a hundred chopped-up syllables.

_Mine! Mate!_ the wolf growled.

The human part wasn't much better. _Holy. Shit._

The coyote, he just laughed.

They stood plastered together while his heart sounded with the solemn stroke of a grandfather clock, somewhere far, far down the imaginary hallway of his mind. Low, resounding strokes separated by pregnant pauses.

_Bong._ He sucked in a long, shallow breath, trying to clear his mind. _Bong._ Was it nearly midnight, the party about to end? _Bong._ Jesus, how could it be? The very woman Ty asked him to protect was the first to ever to penetrate this deep into his soul.

_Bong._

Trouble, sure trouble, on the way.

# Chapter Three

Rae had been so engrossed in thought that she'd come face to face with a couple of thousand pounds of beef on the hoof. Here she'd been thinking about which people to watch out for on the ranch when it seemed livestock was the greater threat.

She started backing away from the oncoming herd, trying to settle her mind. Maybe she was being too wary, trying to judge her new pack. Everyone seemed welcoming enough, and if some of the men were a bit too welcoming, well, that was to be expected in a den of wolves.

Still, she wasn't ready to let her guard down and accept that she'd lucked out with a good pack. Not just yet. For all that she'd had a good start at Twin Moon, there was a weird vibe in the way some people treated her. Not everyone, but a select few. Like the old alpha, who watched her come and go like a man judging a panel of job applicants. A ranch hand like her shouldn't merit the attention of the alpha. Meanwhile, his older son avoided her like the plague, and though the younger son, Cody, had come on strong in their first meeting, he'd done an about-face and backed right off since then.

Either she was imagining things, or something was going on. Something she couldn't make head or tail of.

Then again, maybe she was too used to searching for ulterior motives. The people here seemed honest and sincere. That or they were doing a damn good job of tricking her into a false sense of security.

She'd been tricked before. In life, in love. And she damn sure wasn't going to fall victim again. So she kept her guard up, just in case.

Except she hadn't kept enough of it up to avoid walking straight into the cattle. To make matters worse, now she'd gone and backed into a mountain of living, breathing flesh.

Man-flesh.

_Melted_ into him was more like it, because the minute they made contact, her bones went molten, her muscles turning to mush instead of jumping away when she realized that she'd parked herself right on top of a stranger.

_On top of,_ her wolf breathed, a little giddy. _Not a bad idea..._

Apparently his wolf was on the same wavelength because she could feel an unmistakable hardening against her lower back as he hummed into her ear.

"Gotcha."

Two choppy syllables that promised more than just a snug fit in his arms.

Her inner wolf all but purred. _Got me, for sure._

She batted at the beast, ordering it to behave.

_Don't be such a prude,_ the wolf complained.

_Don't be such a hussy,_ she hissed back.

His hand slid along her spine, sending uneven shots of heat to her core. For all that she wanted to stick an elbow in the ribs of the stranger who dared press up against her like that, she found herself pressing back. Inhaling. Enjoying, almost.

If he'd said one more word or leaned half an inch closer, she might have shoved him away. But his stunned silence told her his reaction was just as involuntary as hers. So she stood still, basking in his presence.

_Damn cattle._ She tried off-loading the blame.

The herd lumbered on, jostling and complaining, oblivious of their crime.

_He wants us like we want him,_ her wolf hummed, smug.

Rae shook head firmly even as her soul heated under his touch. _Jed wanted us, too. Remember him? Remember how close we nearly came to—_

Her wolf snarled, cutting her off. _Jed was a mistake._

_A mistake we won't repeat._

The beast howled. _A wolf needs a mate!_

Rae stiffened. Mate? Where the hell did that come from?

_He's ours. Don't you know the scent of your destined mate?_

She could barely tell if the thumping in her chest came from her heart or his. _Destiny plays tricks, all the time. We make mistakes._

_This is no mistake!_ The howl turned to a scream as the pressure against her ribs increased. Her wolf was trying to get out.

She pushed the beast back into her inner cage. The man behind her, though, was impossible to ignore.

He was big, that much was clear. Half a head taller than her, judging by the angle of his minty breath on her ear. Broad, like his shadow. Blissfully warm and somehow soft for all the slabs of muscle plastered over his frame. Layer upon layer of it that slid and groaned over each another like so many tectonic plates.

The herd lumbered closer, and a panicked corner of her mind was thinking of climbing the fence to get away from it all: the dust, the cattle, the man. Between the space of one breath and the next, though, the man whipped out from behind her and took up guard in front, forming a solid wall between her and the livestock. And just like that, Rae found herself in a little bubble of calm, listening to her heart thump.

Whistles and alarms went off in her mind, but her wolf just purred in pleasure, canting her hips forward. _Damn perfect ass..._

She couldn't resist going up on tiptoe and nosing closer to his neck to inhale a deep breath of his musk. He was fresh, smooth, and edgy all at the same time, like a man who washed in a mountain stream and slept naked with the covers off. The wolf musk was there along with something foreign—something earthy, scruffy, and wild. Her errant fingers ran up his back and brushed the curly bottom edge of his hair that barely cleared the collar of his cotton work shirt. His hair was thick and wavy and satchel brown, though the sun-drenched tips were dun-colored, like...like...coyote?

Rae's nostrils flared as her nose continued its inspection. Apparently, the he-wolf had a splash of coyote in him. That was unusual. The human part of him was just as hard to decipher. The lemony smell of honesty was in there, mixed in with the chili-laced scent of regret. He turned slowly with a look that dared a thousand head of cattle to break past the barrier he made.

She looked up at green-brown eyes filled with the residue of a stormy past. Hurt and loneliness were in there, overwritten with a fierce sense of pride and honor. Hope, too—a faint glimmer of it, like the first star at twilight.

"You okay?" he whispered.

She took in the parentheses around his mouth, the chunks of muscle on his arms. His left arm boxed in her waist, while his right arm reached up past her shoulder to grip the fence behind her. She could have ducked out any time, yet she remained rooted to the spot, listening to her own uneven breath.

"Perfect," she murmured.

Vaguely, she registered that the cattle were gone, and it was just him and her, standing impossibly close. Her lips moved a little more, though she failed to produce any sound.

The man watched, waiting, with his head tilted as if a rare songbird were singing and he needed to catch every fleeting note. She could smell his arousal, feel the cool of the first layer of morning sweat breaking from his body. A tip of her chin and their lips would line up—

A dog barked at the heels of one last cow, jolting her back to rational thought and a less brazen pose. Another minute and she'd have her ankle wound around his calf. Who was this man? And how could he have such an effect on her?

Her wolf heaved a dreamy sigh. _Mate._

Then it was his turn to blink and snap to, breaking whatever spell had been cast over the two of them. His forehead folded into a hundred anxious creases as he sidestepped away, murmuring incoherently. Was he apologizing? Aghast at her brazenness? Turned on?

Maybe all three. Rae couldn't tell. Only that he was gone the next instant, and she was alone.

# Chapter Four

Zack decided to blame his oversensitivity to the new woman on the full moon. He could feel it rising—once the buzzing in his ears settled down, that is. Yeah, he'd blame that on the moon, along with the tightness in his jeans and the sweat breaking out on his brow. The man who could run a full day and night through the desert was winded by a lightweight. A woman.

Damn, but she'd brought something out in him.

He hastily corrected himself. It was the full moon. It had to be. Because why else was he trying to hang on to the feel of her in his arms? Why else would the scent of her make it hard to walk a straight line, even after hours had gone by?

"Coming out tonight, Zack, honey?" a sugar-sweet voice called, full of thinly veiled promise.

_Hell, no._ Zack barely bit back the comment as he turned to face Audrey.

Dear God, what was the woman wearing today? Some kind of pink frou-frou thing that barely covered her nipples, let alone the rest of her breasts. Which, he supposed, was the point. The self-styled playgirl of the ranch had her role down to the hilt, from the highlighted tips of her overbleached hair to the ruby-red lips that shaped words like, _Here. Now. Me._

He backed away. Yeah, he'd played around with Audrey a couple of times—or had gotten played by her. Hell, every man on the ranch had, but whatever the appeal had once been, it just wasn't there any more. Besides, he was tired of being second or third choice.

"Lemme guess," he offered, resuming his swinging stride as Audrey hurried alongside. "Ty's busy tonight. Cody, too."

Everyone on the ranch knew how the singles scene worked. Audrey, like most of the local women, always tried Ty first. If that didn't work, well then, she'd work her way down the pack hierarchy until she found a man who'd play along for the night. That was the way it worked. The women would try Cody next, and if they somehow struck out with him—hard to do, given Cody's willingness to please—then they would head for third choice.

Third choice came in two flavors. If the girls were after fresh meat with a strong dose of dark and tragic, they went to Kyle, the new guy on the ranch. If they wanted to prove how rebellious they could be, they came to Zack. He was the closest thing to the wrong side of the tracks the ranch had to offer, and the women found their way to him regularly.

Audrey's martyred sigh told him that she'd already exhausted options one and two.

"Cody is off with some other girl," she scowled.

Yeah, Zack figured as much.

"And Ty's off hunting for his phantom again," she grumbled. "The mate that doesn't exist."

Everyone knew that story: how Ty had fallen hard for an ephemeral scent that had come then simply disappeared. He'd hunted weeks for his destined mate, only to come back darker and emptier than before.

Audrey tugged Zack's elbow and pulled him around, bringing him face-to-face with her impossibly lush lips. "You know what they say about alphas."

That it was notoriously hard for strong characters to find their mates? Sure, Zack had heard that. And hell, maybe it was true. But at the moment, he was more concerned with warding Audrey off, now that she had her breasts crushed against his chest.

"You're an alpha inside, Zack." She came to the tips of her toes and let her moist lips brush his ear. "A big, strong man." Her hand ran south along his abs and teased at the top of his jeans. "Why don't you come out and find your mate?"

The woman was a siren, calling him toward a rocky shore. One he had no intention of wrecking on tonight, no matter what his animal wanted. It would be empty, meaningless—and he'd had plenty of that in his life. Just because women tried him out regularly didn't mean he took them all in. Especially Audrey. Especially tonight, with the scent of Rae—er, the full moon—still lingering around him like a smoky haze. He shouldn't have been able to scent anything over the barrage of odors coming from the cattle that morning, but Rae's distinct flavor had stayed front and center, finding its way past everything else to invade his senses.

And just like that, he jumped back in time to live it all again. The cattle, the fence, Rae. The bonfire she'd ignited in him.

"Zack, sugar?" Audrey called.

He blinked himself back to the present. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky starting to split into layers of red, orange, and yellow. He'd somehow made it through the work day and to this point. Quitting time, and time to head home. Alone.

"Gotta go," he mumbled, pulling away. "Find yourself another party, Audrey." Her face went from seductive to solid ice until he added his usual line. "You deserve better."

She flashed a satisfied smile and dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Don't sell yourself short, coyote."

He clenched his jaw. Right. He was just a coyote, but he shouldn't sell himself short. He suppressed a grimace as Audrey smoothed her skirt, reapplied her pouty look, and headed off into the night. To Kyle, no doubt.

He walked off, wishing his stride felt more purposeful and relaxed than it looked. It would be good to get some distance from his day. Good to get home to the cabin he'd grown up in. Like him, it stood on the fringes of pack society, firmly on ranch land but facing the coyote territory that bordered the ranch's western border. Funny how half of a man's blood could determine his whole being, at least as far as his wolf packmates were concerned.

He tried to blank his mind out. Just let it all go: the pack, his day, the subtle reminders of who he was and who he'd remain for the rest of his life. Third choice.

Usually, he could shed those thoughts like so many layers of clothing as he walked the rough path past acacia and graythorn. Tonight, though, that mechanism was off. Way off.

He sat a long time on his sloping porch, watching the stars blink on, one by one. The sight that normally brought him a sense of peace only mocked him tonight. And it only got worse when the moon rose over the horizon.

_Aroooo..._

A lazy howl sounded in the distance: one of the younger wolves, calling the pack out to play. Minutes later, the night came alive with voices. Some mournful, some teasing, others lusty. As usual, the full moon was bringing out the full range of emotion in wolves.

The longer he sat there, the harder it was to resist the moon's pull. He wanted to shift and run this itchy feeling off. Maybe Rae was out there. Maybe she'd let him lead her to a private spot. Maybe—

He shoved off his chair and headed inside. He'd call it an early night, that's what he'd do. He didn't understand why Rae was off-limits, but both Ty and old Tyrone had made it clear that she was not to be touched.

_More like implied_ , his wolf complained.

_Right,_ the coyote agreed. _They didn't actually forbid—_

He shoved them into the dog house he kept at the back corner of his mind and slammed the door on their protesting yelps.

It was no better, though, in bed, lying naked atop the sheets. Especially when the distant howls of his packmates grew more frenzied with the sounds of a lusty chase. Cody, by the sound of it, had found himself a willing playmate for the night. Barks turned to yowls of pleasure, male and female, that carried through the night.

Images flashed through Zack's mind, and the heat in his body rose. Images of Rae, tossing her ponytail behind her shoulder.

His hands slid from his ribs to his hips, down and up and back again.

He imagined Rae's gray eyes narrowing on him, swirling like harried clouds. Had she felt it, too?

He ran a palm over his groin, hastening the rush of blood, the hardening of flesh.

He pictured Rae's fingers playing over his shoulder, heating his skin as they went.

His fingers slid along the length of his cock, and his mind substituted her light touch for his, telling himself his wolf needed this.

He let his eyes slide shut and pretended it was her hand working him. She would glance up and those gray eyes would have darkened with desire. Her lips would part when her eyes dropped to his cock, and then she'd move down and take him with her mouth. Warm and wet and soft, it would be so much better than this crude self-service job of reality. Then she'd come up, looking dazed and lusty, and thrill him with the taste of himself on her lips. She'd lower her hips over his and take him in in one long, certain push. No hesitation, no games. Just two kindred souls united at last.

He dug his free hand into his own hip, making it hers, pulling her closer as he worked himself harder, faster. Going deeper and deeper as her eyes told him no man was his equal. None.

He continued until he was panting, then lying spent and shamefaced in the dark of his room, just as lost and lonely as the teenager he once was. What the hell was he doing?

He scowled out the open window. Whatever it was, he was definitely blaming it on the full moon.

# Chapter Five

Rae was completely unaffected by her day. Completely unaffected by the full moon, too. And above all, completely unaffected by the man who'd invaded her senses before backing hurriedly away.

She knew this because she told herself so a hundred times throughout the day and into the night. Because being affected wasn't an option—not for a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

Well, most of the time.

She lay on her bed, pillow pulled over her ears to block out the sounds of the night. It seemed that the wolves of Twin Moon Ranch reveled in the full moon like any other pack: they were loud, gleeful, and blissfully free of human inhibitions. Mated pairs sang sweet duets, howling their devotion into the night. The elders were hunched in a circle by the sound of it, voices joined with decades of practice as they sang an ode to generations past. Among them was a gritty bass that could only be the old alpha, joining in or warbling into silence whenever the hell he pleased. From farther out in the desert came the sound of the young and the restless, romping and yipping with the joy of youth, the thrill of desire.

_That should be us out there,_ her wolf growled.

She ignored it. The last thing she needed was to go cavorting with a dozen randy males, all of them more than willing to initiate her into the pack in the most intimate way. A little bit of loose and easy didn't mean much, not with wolves, but some shifters had a way of letting too much carry over into the next day.

_Not like I'd run with just anyone,_ the wolf sniffed. _Just with him. Zack._

Rae pretended not to hear. _I just want to be left alone._

_So alone that we'll be alone forever?_

She strained to pick his voice out from the others. Zack. A man she knew nothing about, except that his soul carried the scars of the past. A man whose power pulsed and glowed under the mantle of submission he pretended to wear. A man at home but not at home.

A man who flipped some dormant switch in her and set off a thousand blinking lights. Some soothed like Christmas bulbs strung on a tree, while others set off lightning bolts of anxiety.

_A wolf needs its mate._

_Enough with the mate nonsense,_ she snapped. _He's just another alpha-type. The same as the rest._

_This one is different,_ her wolf insisted.

_How can you be sure?_ Alphas took what they wanted, when they wanted. Alphas were to be avoided at all costs.

_He's not Jed._

_He's worse,_ she retorted. _With ten times the power._

_And ten times the restraint. Couldn't you see it in him?_

An image flashed in her memory: that moment right before Zack pulled away, his brow furrowed, eyes dark. The man wore a code of honor like a suit of armor. Restraint? Yes. But there was a reason for it. Under that armor was a powerful beast. What happened when it ran free?

_He could set us free,_ her wolf whispered. _We want him. We need him._

Outside, another wolf howl joined the rest, deep, gritty, and full of heartbreak. She froze, trying to place it. Not Zack, for all that she could picture him howling that way. But Zack's voice was smoother, more secretive. If anything, she'd guess that was Ty, standing apart from the others as he always seemed to do.

In the distance, another male sang in triumph, joined by a sultry female voice that purred satisfaction into the night. The moon urged; the body obeyed. It didn't have to mean more.

Except some men didn't get that. She hugged herself under the bedsheets. Some men thought that a female who was willing to put out as a wolf would be willing to hand her human body and soul over, too. Like Jed. One casual canine romp with him—the mistake of her life—and he thought he could claim her. He had her up against a wall the very next day, teeth bared at her neck, whispering all kinds of promises he'd never keep. He'd gone on about how happy she'd be serving him and how the two of them would someday rule their own pack.

Jed had gotten so carried away with his crazed vision, she thought he'd try to claim her that very night. All it would take was one deep bite in the right spot and she'd be bound to his whims and violent desires forever. Because a mating bite could be forced, and it was forever. The worst kind of forever.

She shook her head. If Jed was her destiny, she didn't want it.

Lucky for her, Greer—top dog of the Colorado pack—had come along and chased Jed away. Greer had saved her sorry little ass.

Unlucky for her, Greer had also taken notice of her sorry little ass, and something in his eyes said she hadn't won much of a reprieve from unwanted attention. Greer was a tyrant of an alpha who took what he wanted, when he wanted. Next to him, Roric of Nevada's Westend pack was a goddamn saint.

She drew the sheet over her head along with a long, deep breath, reminding herself of the long road she'd traveled since then. She'd fled her Colorado pack and started new in Nevada. From that point on, the only lovers she'd accepted were all low-ranking, easygoing types. And if sex with them left part of her unfulfilled, such was the price of protecting her soul.

_Destiny is a myth,_ she told her wolf as gleeful howls carried through the night.

She flipped sideways in the bed, fighting the memories of Jed away. Her mother used to say, _to take away bad dreams, you need to bring in good ones._ So she tried conjuring up something safe and satisfying. Chocolate, maybe? It hardly fit the bill. The blanket she'd always slept under as a kid? Slightly better. She tugged the imaginary fabric tight around her body, closed her eyes, and tried again.

Vague threads of color wove and combined into an image of a brown-haired, green-eyed stranger who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet moved with silent grace.

Maybe Zack wasn't out cavorting with the others. Maybe he was at home in his cabin out by the mesa, where she'd seen him disappear to over lunch. What a perfect place that would be. A wisp of smoke in winter, the cooling shade of a sycamore in summer. It was just close enough to belong to the pack, but just far enough to call one's own.

_Or maybe,_ her wolf cooed, _he's on his way over here right now._

She tried pushing the thought away but found herself too weary to resist. If the vision insisted on intruding into her dreams, so be it. As long as it didn't happen in real life. Her imagination turned the tap of a tree branch into a soft knock at the door, and the fantasy took off.

"Rae."

He'd whisper from the doorway where he'd be standing, silhouetted by moonlight.

"Zack," she'd call softly and reach out her hand.

He'd slip into her room, pull up a corner of the sheet, and slide in beside her.

She curled her arms around her torso and let the hug of comfort turn into a different kind of embrace. Slowly, she stroked the length of her body, making her nipples harden. What would Zack's hands feel like, traveling that same path? How would he hold the weight of his body when he lay with her? Was he a tender lover or a demanding one?

The former, she decided. After all, it was her fantasy. He would murmur something sweet and low while one strong hand cupped her breast and the other stroked her hair. Then his thumb would start working her nipple, the way her own thumb did now, and her aching body would press against his, asking for more. Then his hand would wander lower, stirring warm, wet need in lazy circles that would have her biting back a moan. This man would know just where to touch her, and how.

He was doing it now, she decided, and in the darkness, she imagined their eyes locking as he lined up their bodies and slid home. Skin on skin, his heat would consume her. They'd move slowly at first then harder and faster until they hit a perfect rhythm. His movements would grow more urgent, his face tighter as they both climbed to the top of a mighty peak, then tumbled over the other side together.

They would come together again and again, first in the guesthouse she'd been assigned to, and then over in the cabin by the mesa. Her heart soared with every imagined encounter, every shuddering climax. When they ventured outside, she would let him press her up against the very fence where they'd first touched and bring her as high as the stars, as bright as the moon. Then they'd shift and run together into the desert, and the howls of joy would be their own.

_Arooo...._

Her fantasies carried her straight through the night and into the next morning, staying with her even after she rose, stretched, and headed to breakfast in the community dining hall. The sun was shining, the birds singing, and still the glow lingered.

She yawned. Too bad it was only her imagination that had experienced so many fantasies last night.

The dining hall door banged open, and a tall figure stepped out. Rae stopped dead in her tracks, facing her fantasy, this time in the flesh. When Zack's gaze caught hers, he stopped cold.

For a minute, all she registered was the hazel of his eyes and the thump of her heart. The whiff of unmasked lust reaching out to her like an arm. Then a voice behind her startled them both.

"Oh, Rae, Zack, have you met?" It was Tina, the alpha's daughter, who'd been the first person to welcome Rae to the ranch.

Heat filled Rae's cheeks as she forced a smile. "Yes, we have."

It might have been the morning light, but Zack's deep tan seemed to have a splash of red in it, too. His scent, however, had gone from full heat to guardedly neutral. The man was an enigma, impossible to read.

"Mmm." His deep hum reminded her of Nevada: the rare sound of distant thunder behind the clouds. "We have." He nearly left it at that, but then he rushed on. "Met, I mean."

"Yes, we have met," she echoed in a wobbly voice.

_Most intimately,_ her wolf added with a satisfied yowl.

# Chapter Six

Ten days. Zack had been counting. Ten days since the day Rae had pressed him into the fence, and damn it, he still couldn't let the feeling go. What started as a tingle turned to an itch and then a burning need that was spilling over from the fantasies of nighttime to the broad light of day.

Of course, his blame-it-on-the-moon theory was getting stretched thin, especially now that the full globe waned to a three-quarter silhouette and an ever-slimmer crescent, but he liked it better than the alternative.

_What fool doesn't know his destined mate?_ his wolf growled. The beast had been clawing at his inner cage for days now.

Zack shoved the suggestion down every time.

_Mate? Hell, no._

Destiny didn't work that way. Not for him, it didn't. Destiny was a bitter old spinster who showered rewards on a select few while pushing mudslides at everyone else. That was the way it was.

He told every part of his body and soul that, drilling the message into the furthest reaches of his mind. His duty was to the pack, and the pack—in the form of its second-in-command, Ty—wanted him to protect Rae. To keep the others away.

So he prowled, snarled, and hurled murderous looks at any male over the age of twelve who dared glance Rae's way. He'd guard her, all right.

In no time, he'd succeeded in creating a no-go zone around the newest member of the pack. Even Cody, who chased skirts the way a dog chased a ball, steered clear of Rae—almost suspiciously so. The best Zack could figure was that Rae must be some distant relative of the alpha's family. Why else would she be off-limits? Whatever the cause, he didn't care. The fewer men around his woman—he cleared his throat and corrected himself— _this_ woman, the better.

Rae, meanwhile, seemed to go about her work unconcerned—unless Zack ventured too near. Then he sensed it again; the tremble of uncertainty, the hitch in her step. The same thing that happened to him if he got too close. So they tiptoed around each other, day after day.

She'd been sticking to herself, going about her work quietly and efficiently, taking meals apart from the others. Twin Moon pack didn't get many visitors, but those who did either settled in quickly or got the hell out. Rae hadn't done either—not yet. The woman consistently sought out the edge.

A little like him.

So it was no surprise to find her alone on the tenth evening, out in a little hollow at the foot of the hills where the desert smelled greener, the sage sweeter. The place where she had set up an impromptu archery range and practiced every evening. Twilight seemed to draw her there like a doe to a secret watering hole.

The only surprise was that his feet had brought him there, too. Didn't they get the memo about keeping away from her? Straying too close held danger, he knew. Next time, it might be him pressing into her. And if he started, God knows how he'd find the willpower to stop.

_Thwack!_

His ears flicked at the dull, striking sound. Rae was at it again. He'd never met a shifter who practiced archery, let alone a female shifter who did. But there she was, standing tall and lean, drawing back an arrow like one of Robin Hood's goddamn Merry Men transplanted to the desert. You'd have to have the eyes of a hawk to hit the distant target in this slanting light, but Rae nailed it every time.

She was all business: her hair pulled into a loose ponytail, long legs shoved into an earth-colored pair of overalls that couldn't hide the lithe curves of an athlete. Every inch of her screamed, _Expert! Stand back!_ as if she knew something no one else knew. Like she could do things no one could even imagine.

There was something different about her, without a doubt. He just couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was more than just the trimmings: the bow, arrow, and wary attitude. There was something about the way her blue-gray eyes studied the sky, like she was waiting for some sign. A sign of what?

_Thwack!_

Another arrow, another perfect shot. He sidled a step closer. Watching from a distance would have been smarter, but his feet brought him right to the edge of the hollow.

Rae curved an arm up and over her shoulder, flipping the harvest gold ponytail aside to draw another arrow from the quiver strapped across her back. Her fingers tested the fletching the way a musician might test the strings of a guitar, and he couldn't help but imagine those fingers brushing over his back. The first one would be coarse and callused, scrubbing his skin. The second smoother, the third a tease, and the fourth finger—the pinkie—would be a butterfly on the heels of the rest. He imagined her doing that over and over, slowly coaxing the tight knots of his back into blissful release.

_Thwack!_

He took another step forward, coaxed on by a hypnotic inner voice. Not his wolf half this time, but the coyote: the clever, scheming half of his soul.

_Just a little closer,_ it whispered. _Won't do any harm. Just one more step. Just a little—_

"Getting ready to kill someone?"

He heard the words before even realizing they were his own, murmured in her ear. Somehow, the last couple of steps had happened all on their own. And somehow, his voice was steady despite the blood hammering in his ears.

Rae tensed, though she casually brushed a lock of hair behind an ear as if she weren't surprised to find a near-stranger at her side.

"Depends," she muttered.

"Depends on what?"

"Depends how much _someone_ pisses me off."

Okay, so he'd snuck up on her. Stealing up unnoticed was one of his best tricks. Coyotes knew stealth—one of the few things about that part of his ancestry that did him any good.

Rae was playing it cool, but his coyote caught the flare of her nostrils, the pink flush on her cheeks. Either she was annoyed at being caught off guard or she liked having him so close.

_Maybe a little of both._ His coyote grinned and decided to push a little more.

Never mind that he was supposed to be keeping guys away from her.

_Of course not,_ his coyote huffed. _We're just doing our job. Keeping a close eye on her._

Right. Not showing inappropriate interest. Not salivating over whatever it was about her that was so...so...irresistible.

Well, trying not to, anyway.

"And what does it take to piss you off?" the coyote made him say.

She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the target. "You don't want to find out."

_Zip!_ The arrow's flight sounded different from up close, but the effect was the same: another shaft nestled amongst the dozen bristling from the bull's-eye. Part of him wouldn't have minded if that arrow had gone wide of its mark, giving away her emotions. But Rae was cool, calm, collected.

He hid a smile. He'd been worried about other men getting too close to her, but clearly, this woman was not someone to mess with. And yet she let him this close. Why?

"Calling it open season on straw targets?"

"Archery season on pronghorn opens next week," she murmured, lips against the string.

"You like to hunt?"

"I like to chase."

_So do I,_ his wolf nodded, licking his lips.

For a moment, he wondered if she'd somehow caught that. Because her lips parted and her shoulder dipped just enough to make him wonder if she felt it, too. This link. This pull. Like the two of them were a couple of wobbly magnets suspended in that moment of truth before the poles finally made up their minds on whether they'd line up or repel.

"What's the bow for, if you're just going to chase?"

She fingered the barbed tip. "Just in case."

"In case of what?"

He watched Rae's eyes close on some ugly memory and regretted the question immediately. Wary fingers stroked the shaft like a talisman, and just like that, her easygoing veneer vanished, revealing something hard and angry beneath.

"In case I find the right kind of prey."

Zack sniffed and found the peppery scent of fear intertwined with the ammonia odor of hate. Or was that shame? His mood shifted in a heartbeat. Had Rae been mistreated by some shit of a man once upon a time? Had she been hurt?

His mind replayed what the ranch rumor mill had been saying about her. Where was she from — Nevada? Or was it Colorado? There was a pack up there rumored to have a brutal alpha. One who rode supreme over the minds and bodies of his pack. The kind who liked to break his pack in and ride them hard.

Literally.

The kind of alpha who would snuff out a soul just to show he could.

He could picture why an alpha would be drawn to a woman like Rae. She had that inner spark, that flame. A woman who could bring out the best—or the worst—in a wolf. But Rae was too restless and independent to ever settle for being an alpha's mate.

He didn't even realize she'd released the next arrow until he heard the furious smack of it. Bull's-eye.

In one smooth move, she pulled another arrow from her quiver, notched it, and took aim. The woman was a wall of ice, her gray eyes thunderous as they narrowed on the target.

_Zip!_ The arrow flew, sending a clear message. _I am not a woman to fuck with. I will chase the past away._

Zack shifted his weight back, even as the coyote inside ran his tongue over his lips. The more she pushed him away, the more he wanted her.

The _coyote_ wanted her, he told himself. Only the coyote. The man knew where to draw the line.

But there was a wolf in there, too. And Rae was so irresistibly untamed. Wild and free, unfettered by the expectations of society.

At the moment, though, she was tenser than her recurve bow. Time to ease off.

"You got a hunting tag for that pronghorn, miss?" he teased, dropping his voice in his best sheriff's imitation.

"Don't need one," she huffed, feigning annoyance though her voice was laced with relief. He'd hit the right tone, at last. "Not for the kind of hunting I do."

His pulse jumped, wondering what kind of hunting that was.

"And wolf?" he ventured. "Got a tag for that?" God, when had he become so...so forward?

Rae gave an exaggerated sigh. "You haven't figured out yet that I'm not interested?"

That's what she said, but everything about her screamed the opposite. The catch in her voice, the sharp intake of each breath, the sweet scent of arousal enveloping her like perfume.

"I think you are," his coyote made him whisper, much too close to her ear.

She let out an exasperated huff, like he'd been hounding her for a week instead of a minute. Why he was doing it, he didn't know. Only that the coyote was to blame. Oh, and the moon, too, no matter what phase it was in.

"I figure a guy like you must have plenty of women to mess around with."

That barb went right to his gut. "Think I'm messing around?"

"You're missing the point," she murmured out of the side of her mouth, sending his eyes down the arrow's shaft until they found the steel tip. "I don't mess around." On that, she sealed her lips, took aim, and released.

_Thwack!_

Zack didn't have to look to know it was another perfect shot.

"Neither do I," he insisted, though he knew he should back off. But it was true: he wasn't messing around. This was sheer need. Instinct. Whatever it might be called, he couldn't fight it away. And suddenly, he didn't want to any more.

So when her eyes fell to his lips and lingered there long enough for him to be sure, he acted on impulse. The next thing he knew, his hand was on her shoulder and his lips reaching for hers. When they connected, the surprise in her eyes was replaced by something soft, willing, and lonely enough for him not to break away. A look like the one he sometimes found in the mirror, the few times he bothered to check.

A heartbeat later, his eyes locked away the world, focusing entirely on the kiss. Rae's lips were sweet and soft and tangy, a secret elixir brewed just to stir his soul. That was what a hummingbird must feel when it closed in on nectar: a world bursting with color, texture, flavor. And the taste of her! Sweet and shy and unexpected, like wild blackberries that only cropped up in good years. The ones you were lucky to get a handful of before they'd gone, quick as they'd come.

Rae's scent was like all of spring concentrated into a single day, a single moment. His lips moved with unspoken words, while hers curved and bent in echo. Rae leaned into him, her lithe frame fitting perfectly alongside his.

_Perfect. Home. Mine._ Thoughts bounced like tumbleweeds through the uneven landscape of his mind.

The bow went limp at her side and her hand slid around his ribs, tugging him closer. Zack had the vague feeling he might be running out of air.

"Rae," he whispered, and even those three letters tasted sweet.

Her eyes flicked open, the gray warm and soft as a fair weather cloud at sunrise.

But the very next instant, she tensed. Her eyes jumped, and she pulled away. His wolf let out a whine, wanting to explain that he would never hurt her. He would hold her, love her, protect her. Forever.

But Rae was scuttling backward, her face on the rise behind them. Someone was coming.

Zack swung quickly to the woodpile while she pulled another arrow and faced the target as if nothing had happened. The two of them were perfect conspirators already, though they'd shared nothing more than a kiss.

A twig snapped and a voice cursed, breaking the peace of the hollow. Zack spun around, every muscle primed to defend his mate.

"You," came a curt, accusing call.

Zack's spine stiffened as Tyrone stepped into view. What the hell was the old man doing out here?

The alpha approached, power radiating off him like a living, breathing thing.

"You."

He stuck an accusing finger at Rae, and Zack immediately stepped into the man's path. Alpha or no alpha, no man was coming near Rae.

Tyrone shot him a look that was pure malice then turned his sights to Rae. "You shouldn't be here alone."

_She's not alone,_ Zack wanted to point out. _She's got me._

The old alpha reached out, fingers aimed for their usual spot on the back of his neck. Every time the alpha did it, Zack let him. He had to; it was the way of the pack.

But this time, the coyote dug in its hind feet and refused to be swayed. Whether the beast was trying to impress Rae or just plain crazy, he couldn't tell. Only that he'd had enough. Taking a tiny side step, he let the alpha's hand land on his shoulder, short of its mark. Tyrone's eyes widened and flashed.

_Test me, old man,_ Zack's coyote nearly said. _Try it._

The alpha's eyes flicked from Zack to Rae and back again, lips curling down.

"Time to do what you do best, boy," Tyrone spat, turning every word into an insult. He pulled Zack aside, fingernails biting into his flesh. _And if I find you anywhere near this woman again,_ his glare added, _I'll skin your no-good coyote alive._

Before Zack could compose a reply, the old man went on. "We've gotten word of a possible trespasser."

At that, the old man gave Zack a shove toward the ranch. And in the old days, Zack might have stumbled along on command. Now, he took a single, stiff step—the shortest possible movement that wouldn't ignite a battle. He didn't need one, not with an inner battle already raging over Rae. The effect she had on him. The reaction his inner wolf and coyote—in agreement, for a change—both had to her.

_Mine. Mate!_

The words flicked like fireflies through his mind. Much as he wanted to watch them glow and play, he knew he had to snuff them out. It couldn't be. There was no mate for him, no peace. Just a trespasser to track. That was his duty; the ruling alpha said so.

_Duty,_ his wolf nodded.

_Mate,_ the coyote cried.

Tyrone broke the impasse with a second, angry shove. "Go! Get on it. You understand me, boy?"

Oh, he got it all right. When the old man said _trespasser_ , he meant the shapeshifter kind. The kind looking for trouble. Straying onto pack territory without permission was more than an insult: it was a crime. And a danger to his pack was a danger to Rae. Any trespasser who intruded on pack territory—and into this crazy _something_ between him and Rae—was dead meat.

Rae's gray eyes found his and hung on for all they were worth. Her face was hard, but her gaze softened just enough to make his ribs tighten.

Duty? Mate?

Zack tore himself away. If he kept thinking along those lines, he'd be the one who was dead meat.

# Chapter Seven

Two days passed in which Rae told herself the ranch didn't feel any different with Zack gone, but it was impossible to kid herself. Something was missing, even if it was just his unmistakable presence. The man was like a mesa after dark: a brooding, lonely mass caught somewhere between the past and the future.

_It doesn't have to be that way_ , her wolf said. _He can have better. He can have us._

_Look who sounds all haughty_ , she shot back. _Not like I'm such a prize._

_Ah, but I am_ , the wolf purred.

That part, at least, was true, and she nearly smiled at her secret.

Another part was true, too: Zack could do better than playing second fiddle to the alpha-in-waiting. A healthy pack needed more than a single leader, and Ty seemed man enough to recognize that. The problem, as far as she saw it, was that Ty and Zack were still the boys they'd once been, subservient to the old alpha. What would it take to shake up the old guard?

On the other hand, was it any of her business? No. For all she knew, Zack didn't want better. Maybe he didn't even know what better was.

_We can show him,_ her wolf said, glowing at the memory of his kiss. A kiss that had been a gamble, a hope, and a promise, all wrapped together. Electrifying and soothing, assuring her there was a place on this Earth for her: a happy, safe, and serene place close to him.

She gave herself an inner shake. A kiss could be a brand, too, marking her as his. That was the danger: an alpha male deciding she belonged to him. She'd already fled that threat twice. She didn't want to be anybody's. She wanted—needed—to be her own.

So she did her best to pretend she didn't miss Zack and concentrated on doing her job without drawing attention to herself. That was the key, especially now that the new moon was sneaking up.

She worked her way down the fence line on the southwest side of the ranch, checking every beam. The midday sun sucked all the life out of the air, and heat pressed down over the landscape like a sheet of lead. The buzz of honest activity that had so captivated her when she'd first arrived on the ranch seemed lackluster today.

Funny the difference one lonely tracker could make.

That much about Zack, she'd gathered. He was a tracker, and not just any tracker, but the best in the Four Corners region. She'd learned as much from the sweet old woman everyone called Aunt Jean. Jean seemed to be the unofficial matron of the pack, given that the grizzled old alpha had never taken a mate.

"If it's on two feet, our Zack can find it," old Jean had said with pride.

Rae's wolf ears perked at that. _What about tracking something on one feet?_

If her tail had been out, she'd have given it a lusty swipe.

She slapped a firm hand over her thigh, warning the beast to cool it. But even that couldn't keep her from imagining a nocturnal chase. She, the quarry, he, the tracker. Now that would be a fun game.

_Hunting isn't a game,_ she reminded herself, hearing the echo of her grandmother's words, spoken long ago in what seemed a different lifetime, a different place.

_Love isn't a game, either,_ her wolf replied.

In the distance, the lunch bell sounded, calling the ranch hands to the dining hall, but Rae kept working. Coming in at the tail end of a meal meant less time making polite small talk. Not that she didn't like the others; it was just that the company she wanted wasn't there today.

She bent down to test the lower beam of the fence, and that's when she heard it: a step behind her, then another.

When she whirled, the approaching figure—all six-plus feet of him—threw his hands up like a guilty man expecting an accusation.

She cocked her head. It was Ty, the alpha's son and heir apparent. She'd only ever seen him from a distance—and always, always exuding that nuclear-power aura that kept everyone at arm's length. But right now, his eyes were on the ground, his demeanor hesitant.

"Hi," he murmured, so low Rae could barely hear.

Her heart beat a little faster in the urge to flee.

"Hi," she forced herself to say. It came out clipped and hurried. Cold.

Ty glanced back toward the ranch, and for a second Rae thought she saw the imposing figure of his father scowling from the shadows. But noon in the desert had a way of playing tricks on the eyes; it was probably just in her head.

Ty stuck his hands in his pockets and kicked at the ground as if maybe he could find a cue card among the pebbles and dirt.

"How you doing?" he asked after a long, quiet minute had passed. "I mean, how are you settling in?" His gaze was reluctant, the corners of his dark eyes sad.

That was the only thing that kept Rae from sprinting off. Ty wasn't there to harm or demand. He was there to...to... Wait. Why had the second-highest ranked wolf in the pack gone out of his way to talk to her, looking at her like she was a problem he couldn't solve?

"Um...fine."

In truth, she was more than fine. Arizona suited her perfectly, and her heart sang with every whisper of the clean, dry wind. There was nothing she missed about Westend pack, and nothing she could fault in the way Twin Moon pack worked in quiet harmony with the earth.

But she'd be even more fine if Ty left her alone—and finer still if Zack were around. The tracker had a way of either soothing her pulse or making it thump in excitement. Ty, on the other hand, set off all her alarms. Who he was and what he represented scared her. He was a man of power, and power had a way of corrupting men—even good men.

"Good." Ty nodded, but his tone was unenthusiastic, as if he might have preferred a different answer.

"Good," she echoed.

God, this was awkward. What did he want? She looked south, avoiding his eyes, and he looked north, avoiding hers.

"You coming to lunch?" he finally asked.

She couldn't quite say no, but she didn't want to say yes. "Soon."

He nodded and stared into the distance with the hollow gaze of a man who'd given up on wishes and hopes. So much, she almost ached for him. Even with everything she'd had to escape in her past—two brutes in Colorado and a suffocating pack in Nevada—she'd never given up hope. Hope to find a place she could call home. A place like this, maybe.

If only everyone would just leave her alone.

Ty might have read her mind, because he gave her a grim nod and strode away. Quickly.

She watched him go, wishing it was Zack coming and not a man she had no interest in going. But at least Ty was giving her some space, and she was happy for that.

She checked another three sections of fence before pocketing her hammer and heading back to the heart of the ranch. What had that strange encounter been all about?

She loitered every step of the way, watching a bird sip from the irrigation ditch, then flit into the shade of a palo verde tree. Her feet took her on a long detour to the ranch gate, as they'd done nearly every day. Something about the way the proud, simple structure framed the landscape fascinated her. The solid trunks of two ponderosa pines formed the sides, supporting a long cross-beam high overhead. At the midpoint hung the ranch brand: two circles, overlapping by a third.

Twin Moon Ranch. The name fit the place perfectly.

She stepped to the threshold of the gate then paused. One step farther and she'd be in the outside world. One step back and she would be firmly on the ranch. She rocked on the balls of her feet, undecided. Was the ranch a prison or a sanctuary? Which way to go?

_Forward,_ she coached herself. _Out._ That was the way to go. To find her freedom and her destiny, whatever it might be.

Her wolf sniffed. _Or free to stumble into the biggest mistake of your life. Your choice. Our destiny could be right here._

She wavered, and then took a step back, wondering what held her in place.

_We're waiting, silly,_ her wolf said.

_Waiting for what?_

_For Zack to return._

Rae wanted to snort. _That's pathetic._

_It's romantic,_ the wolf insisted.

_If it's so romantic, why did he leave?_

The wolf just shrugged. _Duty._

Ah, the simplicity of a wolf's mind.

A wolf might be content with that kind of life—waiting at home like a good little mate—but not a woman who could stand on her own two feet.

_Well, Zack's not here, and now we have Ty sniffing around. That's the last thing we need._

The wolf gave a lazy huff. _He wasn't sniffing. He wasn't interested. Not a whiff of lust on him._

"Thank God." Rae said that part out loud. But what did he want?

_Not us,_ her wolf shrugged.

Rae had to give the wolf that. Whatever Ty wanted, it wasn't her, and she was happy for that. Let the other women heave longing looks him at that mountain of a man. She wasn't interested. Not in him, at least.

She glanced at the sky, where a hawk soared in broad circles. There was something magical about watching a fellow hunter at work: wheeling, gliding, choosing exactly the right instant to swoop in toward its prey. She knew what the casual lift of its feathertips meant: today was just another day of many, but tonight... Tonight was the night of the new moon.

Even her wolf couldn't hold back a shiver of anticipation, knowing what that meant. The blackest, deepest night, a night when time stood still but for the slow arc of stars overhead.

A new moon called to her the way a full moon called to the others. Every wolf in every pack had a duty, but Rae—she had a higher calling, one that superseded duty to any one pack.

_Tonight,_ she promised herself. She'd put Zack, Ty, and everyone else out of her mind and remind herself who she was and what she had to do.

To do that, though, she needed more space, because roaming too close to the others might expose what she was. A glance at the sun, swinging past its zenith, said she'd better get moving soon. She would have to drive a couple of hours north then set out on foot to find what she sought.

So she headed to the dining hall, gobbled down a quick meal, and jotted a note to leave on the guesthouse bed. She ought to ask the alpha's permission before leaving the ranch, but technically, she was headed to a distant corner of the vast property, so that didn't quite apply.

_Be back soon_ , the note said.

_Soon?_ Her wolf laughed.

Well, _soon_ sounded more polite than _Whenever I damn well please._ She stared at the paper, wishing she could write exactly that. Would she ever find a pack that understood what destiny had intended for her?

She waited until the others had all settled back into work then grabbed her bow and arrows and headed for the battered old Ford she'd driven over from Nevada. She'd scrimped for months to buy it just for the sake of independence and pride. For convenience, too, and the security of an escape pod, should the need arise.

The thrill of car ownership was still there as she hopped in and took off. Driving out the gate was easy once she'd picked up a little mental momentum. She drove three miles down the dirt road, made a sharp left onto the highway, and headed north, where the pull in her bones pointed.

North. That's where she would find her prey.

# Chapter Eight

It started well, as every promising hunt should.

Rae drove a couple of hours north and then out on a long, winding side road, letting instinct guide her to her prey. But then the engine started laboring and spouting steam before finally rattling to a stop.

She got out, popped the hood, and studied the smoking engine long enough to conclude she had no idea what to do.

Crap.

She lifted her head and looked around. Closing her eyes, she sniffed and found a whiff of hope. A broken-down car she could deal with—later. The important thing was, she was close enough to continue on foot. She could sense her quarry out there, not far away. Soon it would be dark, and the hunt would be on.

The hunt. Her lips curled into a smile.

Anvil-shaped clouds rumbled along the horizon like an enemy army in full march, but that hardly mattered. Her quarry's scent was strong and vibrant. Of course, finding her prey was rarely an issue. The trick was catching it.

It was still daylight, though; a little too early to close in on her prey. She pulled a water bottle from the back seat and drank her fill. Let the sun set. Let the clouds thunder in. Let the car wait. She would be like the hawk wheeling in the sky, biding its time.

She lifted the bottle to her lips, but stopped abruptly and turned. A plume of dust rose from the dirt road, coming her way. The back of her neck prickled in alarm when she caught sight of a dark red pickup with tinted windows. Every muscle in her body went stiff.

Trouble. Trouble for sure.

She pulled her bow out from the open window of the back seat along with a silver-tipped arrow—just in case. Then she spun back to the road, notching the arrow just as the truck came to a halt and the front door creaked open.

Her fingers stroked the fletching as she waited, prepared to fend off the stranger if necessary. She had several weapons to choose from: words, fangs, or the tip of her arrow. She'd start with one and move on to the others as the situation called for.

It was only when her nose got hold of his scent that she trembled inside. Behind the scent of tobacco, stale beer, and a cheap cologne was the unmistakable peaty musk of a shifter. A wolf shifter, one of her own kind.

A big brute of a man unfolded himself from the car.

"Hello, Sunshine." He grinned. "It's been a long time."

Rae froze. It had been years since anyone used that stupid nickname. Her eyes flicked to the car and found the green and white ridgeline of Colorado plates. When they jumped back to the stranger's face, everything clicked into place.

A cocky man driving a truck with Colorado plates. One with a cleft chin so deep, you could hide a dime in it. One who called her a name she hadn't heard in years.

A nightmare straight out of her past.

"So happy to see me, you're speechless?" he chuckled.

"Jed." She nodded, forcing all emotion out of her voice.

It really was him. Or more like an extra-large version of the old Jed. He'd always been big and cocky, and she'd always known he'd grow into a force to be reckoned with. But this? The teenager who'd been growing like a weed had bulked up and added eighty pounds of muscle. His chiseled face was accented by a sharp line of facial hair that followed his jaw from ear to either side of that cleft chin. He stroked it as he looked her up and down, his gaze slow, sure, and hungry.

"Little Sunshine, all grown up," Jed murmured. Then his eyes narrowed and he launched right into conversation as if they'd left off ten minutes ago instead of ten years. "I meant what I said, Sunshine. You and me got great things ahead of us."

He was just as crazy as he'd been back then. Crazier, even. Rae stepped back and held the bow higher, keeping the arrow notched.

"How did you find me?"

He grinned like the devil on a hot, sultry night. "Got a nose for my mate, Sunshine."

"I'm. Not. Your. Mate." She broke the words up, so that maybe this time, they would penetrate that thick head.

He only grinned wider, flashing the points of his canines. "You always did like to play."

She eyed the empty landscape for some avenue of escape. Jed's version of play most likely meant violent sex followed by a mating bite that would bond her to him forever. No way. She ordered her racing heart to calm down, her freewheeling mind to think.

Last she had heard, the alpha of North Ridge pack in Colorado was still Greer Roberts. And last she'd heard, he was still a ruthless tyrant. Had he sent Jed to track her? Unlikely. Jed would have been cast out a few years ago, before he stirred up too much trouble. Less stable packs did that with powerful up-and-comers, lest they challenge the leadership. The young bucks roamed restlessly, causing trouble until they found a place they liked the look of and staged a takeover, challenging the local alpha in a fight to the death.

"You and me, we'll head back home." Jed outlined his plan in a tone more suited to weekend plans than a major power play. "I take out Greer, we rule the pack. What?" He paused, seeing her jaw go slack. "Greer's a self-centered, greedy ass who has no business being alpha."

_So are you,_ she nearly pointed out. Did Jed really think he could take on Greer, the biggest, baddest alpha she'd ever seen?

But this new version of Jed was pretty damn big and bad. Maybe, just maybe, youth would triumph over experience. Not that North Ridge pack would benefit either way.

"I'm never going back," she insisted, scanning the area. Using her bow at close range was a fifty-fifty proposition, but if she shifted into her wolf form, she could outrun Jed. The question was, had he come alone?

"Sure you will." He nodded, all smiles but for the warning in his eyes.

A second engine sounded in the distance, and her gut sank.

"Friend of yours?" Jed growled, turning to the source.

A sleek black motorcycle came roaring down the road, kicking up a trail of dust that reached toward the ever-darker sky.

Right. She wished. A friend with a fast bike and a perfect sense of timing would come in awfully handy right now. A friend with an old-fashioned black helmet and biceps that bulged as he roared up and squealed to a stop. A friend with a fierce countenance who would jump off the bike and toss his helmet aside.

"Who is this asshole?" Jed jabbed a thumb in the newcomer's direction.

Rae blinked. "Zack?"

It really was him, though his whole bearing had changed. He was taller, darker, meaner. For a moment, he looked more like a man who could shift into a fire-breathing dragon instead of a wolf.

"Who is _this_ asshole?" Zack growled back.

# Chapter Nine

Zack looked the intruder up and down, slowly taking him in. Then he glanced at Rae. Did she know this ass?

Step by wary step, he and the intruder circled each other, two paces apart.

"You're looking at the future alpha of North Ridge pack," the ass had the nerve to say with a perfectly straight face.

Cocky son of a bitch. Zack sniffed and got a lungful of raw wolf power. But it was all bulk and bluster, no brains or balls.

"Give it a break, Jed," Rae muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

_Jed?_ Zack's wolf bristled. _Who the hell is Jed?_

A good thing he had arrived in time, before...before... Well, he didn't want to imagine what this ass wanted with Rae. Only that it wasn't good, and she didn't want any part of it. That much was crystal clear.

His pulse spiked just from seeing her again. It had only been a couple of days, but the ache for her had only gotten worse. He'd been rushing through his tracking job as fast as he could.

Normally, it was the opposite with him: he loved the feeling of being out in the desert alone. But this time, something felt off. The minute he'd left the ranch, he'd been haunted by the feeling that he'd forgotten something in that timeworn shack he called home.

Something. Maybe even someone.

Zack had told himself it wasn't her, but the minute he did, his wolf got all worked up again, pulling him away from duty and back to her. So he'd tracked long and hard to hurry up and get the job done. So far, he'd tracked and rid the property of three intruders. Two had the good sense to run off, while the third was stupid enough to think that he might best an angry werewolf on his home turf.

That one was dead.

He'd had a fourth in his sights when the call came. Rae had been reported missing on the ranch, and old Tyrone was throwing a fit.

"She's run off," the old alpha snarled into the phone. "Track her. Find her. Bring her back."

Zack didn't like the alpha's urgency. Audrey had once taken off for three weeks when she'd hooked up with a passing trucker and no one had blinked an eye. Why the three-bell alarm when Rae had only been gone for a few hours? Why did she merit the special attention?

Was she the daughter of another alpha, maybe? She didn't seem like the type. Too flighty. Too defensive. Too damn modest.

He just didn't get it. But he'd done as he was told and dropped everything to track her—which was easy, as it turned out. She'd been in his general area, and it wasn't like he could miss her scent once he was tuned in to it. He'd picked it up from miles away; there was something regal and Old World in it. Then it was just a case of racing after her. That was one of the advantages of his Harley—the one useful thing his father had ever left him, even if it had been half-wrecked at the time.

The crazy thing was, he'd not only found Rae, but another trespasser, too. This jerk, Jed.

"Future alpha, huh?" Zack asked, unimpressed.

Jed puffed his chest out another inch. "Got that right."

If it were just him and the intruder, Zack would have launched straight into a fight, even if he knew it meant risking death. Jed might not know much, but he obviously knew how to fight. Big, young, and cocky added up to danger in its own way, and Jed had the brash confidence of a young gun who'd yet to be put in his place.

Zack would have been happy to do just that, even if meant the fight of his life. But Rae was standing right beside him, and prudence held him back from launching into flesh-tearing violence. Right now, it was better to keep his cool and go for the diplomatic solution.

He could always kill the motherfucker later.

The prospect was tempting, given the way the ass was crowding Rae. Like he owned her. Like she was his.

Zack's wolf growled. _Mine!_

He superimposed an even tone over the low rumble in his chest. "Well, future alpha of North Ridge pack, you're trespassing on Twin Moon territory."

Jed threw his head back and laughed. "This ain't pack territory."

Zack lifted an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Jed's cool gaze lost its edge. Definitely not the brightest bulb. They were on ranch property, but the far outer fringes. There was no one here to contest Jed's intrusion but Zack. Not that he was going to tell Jed that.

"Of course, we can fight here and now to solve this," Zack started.

"We will," Jed growled and stepped closer. "And I will wipe your sorry ass straight into the dust."

_Try me,_ his wolf snarled.

"Right," he said calmly. "Let's say you do. Then the whole pack will be on your ass, and the lady here will be less than impressed."

Jed's eyes slid to Rae, and for a moment Zack saw something like affection there. The question was whether the affection was for the woman or a lunatic's cocky vision of the future. Either way, he wanted those eyes off Rae and on him.

_You touch her, I kill you._ He hurled the words out, straight from his mind to Jed's.

Let Jed know exactly who he was dealing with. Let him show a little respect. That's what it always came down to. Respect.

He knew he had it when Jed's chin whipped over to him, eyes registering surprise. Bull's-eye. Now he really had the man off-balance, because few shifters could reach into the mind of a complete stranger.

_Maybe we should try that trick with Tyrone someday,_ his coyote snickered.

Zack ignored him. It was time to get Rae out of Dodge. Keeping a firm eye on Jed, Zack tilted his head just enough for Rae to get the message. _Get on the bike._ His mind was already calculating—he could get her back to the ranch within a couple of hours, then turn around and chase Jed down.

He threw a leg over the bike and nodded Rae onto the back. The crazy woman detoured to grab her quiver of arrows out of the car first, which had him steaming, but once she slipped into place behind him, his innards went all warm at the barrage of sensations. Her thighs, clamped around his hips. Her breath, tickling his ear. The soft flesh of her breasts, pressing against his back. And most of all, that scent, like a whole season was clinging to her shoulders, ready for a wild ride.

Thunder clapped in the distance, snapping him out of his trance. The storm was close. Very close. He started the engine with a sharp kick and took off. Originally, he'd been thinking to head back to the highway, but the hills were a better place to take shelter, and he knew just the place to go.

His wolf hummed in recognition. _The cozy little cabin tucked in behind Scarecrow Mesa?_

Yes, that would be just the place.

# Chapter Ten

They reached the cabin just after sunset and only seconds before the rain hit. Rae ran straight inside, holding the door for Zack. He pushed his Harley under the overhang of the porch then whisked right up to her, and they stood side by side, watching the storm break.

She'd never seen anything like it, not in Nevada, not in Colorado. The front edge of the clouds rolled and twisted, while dark, thin tendrils reached ahead of the mass like scouts. The storm was menacing. Powerful. Thrilling, too.

Only part of her attention was on the storm, though. The rest was on Zack, standing shoulder to shoulder with her while the thunder rumbled. His chest rose and fell as if he wanted to fight this intruder, too.

She breathed him in as if she hadn't been doing that for the past hour, half an inch away from his neck while the motorcycle throbbed between her knees. At first, she'd inhaled Zack's scent to settle her fears, because Jed was back after all this time. A crazy man on a mission—and he wanted her in on it. She'd been so absorbed in thinking ahead to her hunt that she let Jed sneak right up—her worst nightmare come true.

So she'd nestled deeper between Zack's broad shoulder blades and inhaled the thick scent of his leather jacket. She'd concentrated on the tiny curl of saddle-brown hair behind his ears and his steady heartbeat. Bit by bit, her anxiety faded, replaced by another emotion aroused by the heat of his body and the pulse of the engine.

Desire.

At least her nose had had the good grace to maintain a tiny distance because what her arms and legs had been up to under the guise of hanging on was positively scandalous. His heat pulled her in, inviting her hands to slip into his jacket pockets and trace everything underneath. Like the thick layers of muscle stretched diagonally over his ribs. Like the mogul course of his abdomen. Like the waistband of his jeans...

Thunder shattered the air, and Rae fought the urge to flinch.

"After you." Zack tilted his head toward the cabin doorway.

"After you." She echoed his movement, trying to keep her cool.

Zack arched one perfect eyebrow, and she held her breath. This was it. Either the alpha in him would show his true colors, or he would prove himself able to give and take.

The air around them crackled as the next stroke of lightning gathered its energy. She could feel the power building, building, waiting to snap.

Finally, after an endless stalemate, one corner of Zack's mouth twitched, and he headed in.

Rae exhaled, long and shaky, then followed. A lightning clap exploded, chasing her over the threshold and directly up to his chest.

Zack looked at her, wondering, perhaps, what demands she'd place on him next. There was only so far an alpha wolf could be pushed. So she took a step back and nodded at the rafters, pretending she hadn't noticed the king-size bed that took up most of the tidy space.

"Nice place."

He smiled a small, secret smile, the first she'd ever seen on her dark knight. If she hadn't been steeling herself to resist at all costs, that smile would have been devastating. A curl of those perfect lips, a crinkle in the corner of his eye, and the briefest flash of white teeth. Part of her heart melted right there, wondering what this man would look like if he had a little more joy in his life.

She forced away a lump in her throat. What would it feel like to be the one to help him find joy—not just in tiny doses on stormy nights but in broad daylight, too?

"The pack has a few cabins scattered around. Just in case," Zack said, nodding around the cozy space.

Rae leaned her bow in a corner, making sure to place the quiver at exactly the right angle for quick action.

_Just in case,_ the stubbornest part of her insisted—the same part that said men were not to be trusted. She'd had a prime example of that not an hour ago with Jed. So what was she doing letting her guard down with Zack?

Lightning illuminated the single room in three distinct flashes, chased by a mighty clap of thunder. The storm was directly over them now, surging with power.

"How did you know where I was, anyway?" she asked.

Zack shrugged, as if finding her in a several hundred square miles had been child's play. "I'm a tracker. I track."

_Anything on two feet,_ she remembered Aunt Jean saying.

"Wait. Why were you after me, anyway?"

As soon as she said it, she wanted to rephrase the sentence so he wouldn't take _after me_ too literally. But Zack was already breaking into a mischievous grin.

She hid a smile. Maybe she should get him off the ranch more often. He seemed freer here, more at peace.

She leaned in, wanting more of that look, then froze at what she found. Deep in his eyes lurked a wolf, and the green of his irises shone with resolve.

_I would come for you,_ the wolf said, _through a thousand fiery hells._

That look went on for an eternity, and she wondered if she'd ever break free. She wondered if she even wanted to. Everything about Zack was honest, sincere, and strong—a promise that wrapped around her like a high, defensive wall. But when thunder clapped again, Zack blinked the look away. Mumbling something to himself, he pulled a phone from his pocket.

He dialed, held it up to his ear, and studied her. "What were you thinking, coming out here on your own?"

She opened her mouth, thought a second, then closed it. How much to tell him? How much to trust?

He lowered the phone and studied the display. "Shit." He squinted at her, like she'd hexed it or something. "No reception." His eyes bored deeper. "Why did you run away from the ranch?"

She huffed. "Can't a woman decide to hunt for a day or two without being accused of running away?"

"Hunt?" The way his eyes gleamed, she was sure his wolf liked the sound of the word.

A second ticked by, then another.

"You shouldn't be out here alone." He stepped so close, she had to tilt her head back to keep her eyes locked on his. The heat of him embraced her, pulling her even closer.

_I'm not alone. Not any more,_ she wanted to say.

"You sound like someone I know," she said, testing him.

Zack fixed her with a deep, dark look that said her comment had cut deep. "I will never be like him," he said, punctuating each syllable.

Every sentence the man uttered was an oath: that he'd never be like Tyrone, the overbearing alpha, nor Jed, who took without asking, nor any other alpha she'd ever known. He was Zack, no more, no less.

"I know," she whispered, bowing her head so low, it touched her chest. But he was already shunning her, turning to the window to study the emptiness outside.

_The emptiness inside,_ something whispered from the depths of her mind. That's what he was seeing.

Her wolf cursed. _Why do you keep pushing him away?_

_Because a man can steal my freedom_ , croaked a voice from deep within her scarred memories.

_This man can give us freedom,_ her wolf snarled back. _And we can give him his._

At that moment, it felt as though they were both out in the open, being buffeted by the storm. The cabin stood in the eye of one of those electrifying desert storms that filled the sky with raw power without the relief of rain. Clouds were swirling, building, and heaving all around, kneading her emotions.

Trust. That was the issue. Was she capable of it, even for just one night? Zack had come after her. Not to drag her away, as Jed would have, but to protect her. What was the malice in that?

Lightning lit his downcast face. Thunder clapped right on its heels, nearly on top of them, but Zack didn't flinch, not even as the walls shook with the power of the storm.

Some spark of lightning must have leaped over to Rae, because her lips tingled the way they had when Zack had kissed her. The feeling raced along her synapses, igniting something in her soul.

Maybe it didn't have to be one or the other: her freedom or a man. Maybe for once, she could give herself the freedom to take a man—a real man, an alpha. Like Zack, who promised her everything while asking for nothing.

Her wolf gave a long, lusty _grrrr._

Tomorrow, she reasoned, she would have plenty of time to be alone. Her whole life had been spent alone. So why not give herself this one night, far from the reach of the pack?

One short step and she was at his side, a hand resting on his waist. Layers of muscle, one chiseled over another, bundled around his torso like overlapping sheets of armor. She wanted to feel his arms around her the way she'd had hers around him on the motorcycle.

Trust. She pulled it around her like a blanket and then tugged the edge over toward him. With one quick inhale, she was on her toes, reaching for his brow with her fingers. No, with her lips. Because she wanted more than a stolen kiss. She wanted more of this man.

All of him, if only for one night.

# Chapter Eleven

Zack had given up counting the beats between sledgehammer blows of thunder and flashes of lightning. They were right on top of each other now, cracking directly overhead.

If only his brain could catch up to his body the same way. Because the more Rae melted into him, the harder he grew. His shoulders pulled back, his stomach knotted, his cock pushed at the confines of his jeans. He was a rock, but she was the stream, running gently, soothingly over him. So much, he wanted to dive right in.

_Deep in_ , the coyote in him growled.

While his body raced away on wild fantasies, screaming for the woman at his side, his brain muddled along in a fog. He was stuck, immobile, unable to react.

_Off-limits,_ his mind said. _She's way, way off-limits._

That didn't stop his heartbeat from spiking as she inched closer, though.

Thunder rattled the windowpanes, yet the tickle of her breath on his ear had a greater impact on him. He struggled to keep his breathing steady, not to give anything away. Why did he feel so out of control?

_Because she's so close._ The coyote grinned inside.

So close that every rivet in his mental armor was creaking under the pressure to break free.

_Take her! Take her now!_ his wolf howled.

In that moment, it was easy to believe the old stories. That there really was such a thing as a destined mate. Not that destiny had spent a lot of time visiting Twin Moon Ranch in the past century, or so much as spat in his direction. But maybe the drought was over. Maybe even a guy like him—a mutt, the product of an empty union—could get that lucky.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the harsh truths concealed amidst the desert landscape. He could see them cowering out there. Truth, like the fact that a life lived alone was empty. Truth, that good enough was not enough, not for his restless soul.

Truth, that the path to his future lay not in the barrens but at his side. His future was her.

For all that lightning tried to tell one tale, though, thunder told a different story. Each roar was like the stomp of an insistent foot.

_Duty! Duty!_

Every member of the pack had a duty and Zack knew his. He was supposed to bring Rae back to the ranch. To protect her, not get carried away with crazy ideas.

"Zack," she whispered, running a hand over his shoulder.

She seemed hell-bent on encouraging those crazy ideas, though. It was in her whisper and the warm slide of her hand along his chest. He'd sensed her wrestling with indecision earlier, but now she seemed to have made up her mind. Didn't she get the memo about the kid from the wrong side of the ranch?

_Apparently not,_ his coyote chuckled as she wiggled closer, making him feel impossibly good. As good as she'd made him feel on that glorious bike ride. He'd tasted freedom, purpose, and companionship, all on two wheels. Those forty-five minutes might have been the high of his life, what with her wrapped around him like a lining to his jacket.

_You think that was a high?_ his coyote sneered. _Try this._

Before he realized it, his hand slid around her waist, and sure enough, her body shuddered with delight that echoed through him.

_This is the way to get high,_ his wolf agreed as he tugged her closer.

Her hand settled over his heart while her lips played along his jaw, licking him up. She'd fought her inner battle and won; why couldn't he do the same?

The harder his cock grew, the more his wolf came up with lame excuses why this would be all right.

_Ty only said something about keeping other guys from messing around with her, right?_

Logic had never been the beast's strong point. Had it forgotten that Ty's father, the pack alpha, had also warned Zack to stay away from Rae?

Still, the coyote was mesmerizingly persuasive.

_This isn't messing around,_ the beast promised in a silky, sure tone. _This is destiny. Not even the old man can fight that._

And hell, it certainly felt that way. Every cell in his body seemed to lean toward Rae, and the urge he felt was as much a directive to hold her forever as to bury himself in her body.

_She wants us, too!_

That, Zack had to give the wolf. The woman who refused to flutter her feathers for any man was melting fast — for him! Her gray eyes were glassy with desire. For all that she'd been on guard with him, she'd reached the conclusion that this was worth it. He was worth it.

His heart gave a little sputter, then hammered on.

She tugged on his chin, turning his face to hers. "I'm declaring it open season on trackers. Fair warning."

He wanted to smile at that, and a lot of other sweet things about her, but his facial muscles were too stiff.

"I can't kiss you," he heard himself say, even though he leaned forward. He might as well put the rule he was about to break out there for the record, right? Maybe that would lessen the guilt, if the guilt ever came.

"I can't _not_ kiss you," she insisted.

A flash of lightning revealed the landscape, and it was different than the familiar view of home. A reminder of just how far away the ranch and its rules were.

Zack hauled in a deep breath. How long had it been since he'd taken a risk? How long had since he'd cared enough to dare?

_Too long,_ his coyote howled.

_So, dare. Risk. Kiss,_ his wolf urged.

Rae closed the distance, letting her lips cover his. Slowly, he locked his arms around her and pushed everything else away.

He'd been fighting the attraction with everything he had because this woman was to arrive back on Twin Moon Ranch untouched. She was forbidden. That was as clear as the ivory fangs the old alpha had flashed when he'd interrupted their first kiss. Zack was entrusted with her well-being. He couldn't fail in the one sliver of trust afforded him by the old alpha. For her sake, and his own.

But for once, he didn't want to settle for playing the good beta. He wanted to jump right to the top, where he belonged. To take destiny in his hands, not wait for it to come to him.

A man could spend a lifetime waiting, and he had had enough.

Finally, he closed his eyes on duty and opened his lips to hers.

That kiss should have been an explosion of sound and color and lust, for all that his wolf had been straining to have Rae. But it was soft, cushiony, and restrained. Lingering, as if every second represented a lifetime. Trusting, with more than just the physical. The kind of kiss he'd had only once before—the one with her, back on the ranch.

Lightning and thunder receded until all he heard was the tame crackle of a fireplace sparkling a cozy vision to life: a bowl of popcorn, two pairs of intertwined feet, and a couple of carefree lovers wrapped around each other atop a thick rug.

All that in one kiss. Either this was destiny or he was losing his mind.

Whatever it was, he had no choice but to go along for the ride. No seat belt, no helmet, no rules.

_No limits,_ something in him agreed. _Not tonight._

Rae's soft touch took him from the fireplace to a sunny mountaintop with a miles-wide view over a landscape carpeted in the colors of spring. Hope bloomed all around. In his imagination, the two of them lingered there a little while. Then they ambled to a hollow filled with the white fleecy fluff of cottonwood trees, so thick it came right up to his ankles. Rae pulled him onward, toward his little shack out by the mesa on the ranch and the bed inside.

Then his hands were hitting a mattress on either side of her body, and he was transported back to this remote cabin in the hills, far, far from watchful eyes on the ranch. It was real. She was real. And her need was as great as his.

"Zack," she whispered, pulling him closer.

He lowered himself, keeping his weight half an inch above her body, as if he might squeeze the goodness out of this if he went too fast. For once, he didn't want to lose himself in a woman. He wanted to find himself there.

Her hands traveled up his shirt and her fingers played along his spine just the way he'd imagined: the index finger first, callused and stimulating, then the middle finger, smooth and long. After that came the softer ring finger, and finally the pinkie, barely a brush.

He wanted to hum and tell her to do it again, but all that came out was a grumble.

His coyote sighed in exasperation. _Can't you get anything right?_

_I'm trying!_

_Try harder,_ his wolf muttered.

"No good?" Her eyebrows shot up.

"Very good," he assured her, pulling her hand back into place. He said it again, ironing out the kinks in his voice, just for her. "Very good."

Rae turned on a smile that was all cheek and only a little lip, like she was trying to hold it back. Then her clever fingers found the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. A breath later, she was wiggling under him, pulling her own top and bra off, and then settling back.

He held his breath, and his coyote sighed inside. _Very good._

His eyes raked her torso, a masterpiece of mixed art forms. The cubist planes of her abdomen melted into the soft, impressionist curves of her breasts, then swept up the length of her neck to the chiseled planes of her face.

_Your turn,_ her eyes grinned.

Zack felt the wolf rear up inside, body-checking the man and coyote aside. The beast's hungry eyes locked on the prize, declaring all bets off. It was definitely his turn. And if there were any rules to this game, he was about to blow them to tiny bits.

# Chapter Twelve

With all the electricity in the air, Rae expected a breathless tussle, a rush to fulfillment, the burst of a dam. But even after their lips met, Zack devoted a long time to nuzzling, staking his claim. The way he touched her suggested that sex came way down on a very long list that put worshiping and discovery above everything else.

She was the one turning up the heat. It was her, pressing her hips to his. It was her, guiding him back to the bed until he had no choice but to ease her into position beneath him. Even then, his kisses were slow and sultry, like a dance on a long winter's night. He seemed in no rush to peel off her layers, to get underneath.

Very un-wolf-like, she decided. And very, very good.

_Nuh-uh,_ her wolf countered. _This man is all wolf. Wait and see._

She pulled off his shirt, then her own, eager for flesh to meet flesh. That's when the beast flashed in his eyes, making her breath hitch. She saw impatient wolf paired with cunning coyote who was calculating how long he might stretch this night. Animal eyes that promised hot, pulsing passion and steel-hard muscle primed to take.

He dipped his head, found her left nipple, and sucked it into his mouth, gentle despite the raw need pulsing off him. Her nipple peaked, and she could already sense what a satisfied mess she would be before the night was through. She was whimpering already, crying under the stimulation of his tongue and fingers.

She arched back, completely at his mercy, and her wolf howled in glee. The irony wasn't lost on her: the girl who refused to give any man an inch was suddenly handing herself over in yards. But hey, if she was going to dive off the high board, she'd do it with style. Zack was like no man she'd ever met. Alpha, but all heart. Wounded, yet giving. Passionate, but controlled.

_Mine,_ her wolf growled. _All mine._

The muscles of his shoulders and arms were edgy, like a sculptor had been in a hurry to finish his statue or just given up on hacking at stone that hard. She ran a hand down the landscape of his stomach, diving under his unbuttoned jeans and toward his groin. When her fingers found his shaft and closed slowly over it, she couldn't help a little chuckle.

"Gotcha."

"That was my line," he mumbled.

"Mine now."

_All mine,_ her wolf purred as she worked him slowly up and down.

He groaned into her chest and lay panting, motionless.

_Relish_ , she told herself. _Do not devour._ If any man deserved it, it was him.

He tilted his head up, eyes seeking out hers, and there it was again, that secret, boyish smile. When she raised her free hand to cup his cheek, he leaned into her touch, humming as she explored him from base to tip.

"Promise me you don't bring all the ranch girls here on the back of your bike."

His eyes popped open. "I don't. Never." His voice was raspy, and she believed him. He shook his head and kissed her. "Never."

A clap of thunder brought on a flurry of hasty activity, the two of them rushing to tug off the last layers separating them. But even when her clothes lay flat on the floor and her hands gripped the headboard while her knees spread wide, Zack was tender and slow. A man in a museum, getting it exactly right.

Using his fingers, he explored her folds and tunneled slowly inside, working her in languid circles until she was wide, wet, and crying for more. He shifted his weight, and she was sure she knew what was coming next. He'd line his body up with hers, lock his hips over hers, and slide home at last. Then they would rock, roll, and howl their pleasure into the night.

But what Zack did next, no man had ever done to her before. He sat back, lifted her hips, and pulled her knees to his shoulders in one swift move. She couldn't understand why it felt so right to lie back and let him, but something in her demanded this feeling of being thoroughly and utterly taken.

_Claimed?_ the voice of warning sounded, muffled deep inside.

The raging heat in her smothered the worry right away. Tonight, she would not be denied—especially by herself. It was all about trust. His hung before her like a fragile thread, begging for reinforcement. What choice did she have but to wrap hers around it?

When Zack paused, she could have burst from the pressure building inside. He tipped his head back and breathed deeply, like a weary man on the verge of claiming a hard-fought prize.

Then he swiveled his jaw in a look that said, _Make ready for me, my mate._ Finally, he lifted her to his mouth like a meal too good to leave on the plate.

Her eyes rolled back in their sockets as he feasted on her, his tongue ravishing every fold, every hidden corner of her sex. The action drove her deeper and deeper into a fog bank of bliss. The man consumed her so thoroughly, so eagerly, that all she could do was ride the exquisite movement of his tongue. Her head fell limp against the mattress—the pillow was long gone, a casualty of their movements—and listened to her own moans fill the cabin as she came undone. Higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until every muscle clenched and shuddered.

Zack held her as she came, shaking and howling inside, then fluttered slowly back to earth.

_Heaven,_ her wolf sighed.

She wanted to say something, but her legs were already wrapping around his waist, guiding him home. Hitting the orgasm of her life suddenly wasn't enough; she wanted all of him.

His green eyes studied her, glittering with need.

Need. Not greed. The man was a prince.

"Zack, please." She was begging, but it was better than what her wolf was yowling inside.

_Fuck me. Fill me. Now._

Another man might have reveled in the power he held over her, but Zack simply nodded, like her wish was his command.

His green eyes narrowed as he pushed in, one delicious inch at a time. She was consumed by the slick, white heat of him, stretching her, tapping something deep in her soul. This was as emotional as it was physical, and she feared what it might make her say, vow, or promise. Her wolf was trying to bare her fangs and lick his neck in preparation for a mating bite, desperately thirsty for more.

_Mate! Mine!_ her wolf cried, and she swore she could hear his reply.

_Mate! Mine!_

With a mighty crack, lightning split a tree outside, and the sound boomed over the hills. Zack hammered home then started pumping to a steady beat. Out, and slowly back in. Out, back in. Rae succombed to the climax coiling inside like a spring, feeling it slip out of her grasp even as she tried to grab on and yoke it back. Zack's pace went from strong and steady to deep and desperate as he, too, gave in to instinct. When he came with a low grunt, she found herself flying, then floating through space, her brain on standby as her body hung on through wave after wave of pleasure.

Then she was nestled beside him, listening to his heart race. Two thick arms wrapped around her: protecting, not possessing. Promising.

Even his sweat smelled clean. Honest. She burrowed against his skin, wondering if she could ever get enough of him.

She hung there, suspended between dreams and conscious thought, marveling at this sense of peace filling the cabin. She could lose herself in dreams. Lose herself in plans, in hopes. But lose herself in a man? It seemed foolish and foolhardy.

Yet it seemed so right.

# Chapter Thirteen

Deep in the night, Rae's eyes popped open. She lay still, struggling to comprehend what was tugging at her.

It wasn't Zack, not this time. They'd been up twice already, each time finding another way to dance into each other's arms and bodies, and each time as good as the first. She wouldn't be surprised if her skin was glowing like a beacon in the night. A beacon for him to find his way home to.

Right now, though, Zack's steady breath and relaxed limbs signaled sleep. She watched his chest rise and fall with every breath. Was there anything more appealing than a rock of a man babied by sleep? Especially a man whose moments of peace were as fleeting as his.

She was tempted to brush the hair back from his forehead, to smooth a hand over his skin. But the force urging her awake was a different one. It came from beyond their intertwined limbs, beyond the cabin. From out in the night.

_Time to hunt_ , came the whisper, the call.

Part of her wanted to jump up and obey, while the other part didn't want to budge. She glanced down at her naked body, locked under the weight of Zack's arm. Feeling possessed wasn't supposed to feel so good.

That was the frightening part: she wanted it. She wanted to be possessed.

She told herself she couldn't give in, not even to Zack's wounded warrior appeal. A man like him could take away her freedom and smother her soul. She'd seen it happen again and again. Greer, the brutal alpha in Colorado had been like that. Roric in Nevada had the same heavy-handed style, as did Tyrone of Twin Moon Ranch. His son, Ty, seemed decent enough, but he had that same inner power — so much that it created a black hole all around him.

Alphas were like that. They were all the same.

Even Zack. He kept his power under wraps, but it would snuff her out if she stayed too close for too long. He'd erase the special part that was Rae and shape her into just another mistress. Whether that happened through brute force or her own dumb cooperation, the end result would be the same. She'd lose who she was. Lose everything.

_No,_ her wolf insisted. _Our mate gives without taking away._

_He's not our ma—_ Rae wanted to insist, but somehow, she couldn't form the words, not even in her mind.

She gave herself an inner shake. _New moon. Time to go._

Her wolf nodded in agreement. _New moon. Time to hunt._

The storm was clearing, and Zack had chased Jed away. No reason to wait.

She slid slowly out from under Zack's arm and padded silently to the door, where she hesitated, looking at her bow. Would it be that kind of hunt?

She considered, testing the air. No. Not tonight. Tonight was a wolf hunt. The best kind.

Still, gravity seemed to double its pull on her feet, trying to coax her back to bed. Just further proof, she knew, of what she had to beware of.

Outside, she studied the sky. The storm was clearing quickly, heading south in search of a new stage for its mighty show. The first gaps were appearing between clouds, each twinkling with a pale star. Bit by bit, Rae cleared the clutter from her mind and focused on the task ahead of her. The hunt. It was her duty. Her passion. Her calling.

She closed her eyes and let the moon pull the wolf out of her. Her shift started with a yawn that gave way to a stretch as another body emerged from inside. It came willingly, her body folding into its familiar second shape smoothly. She dropped to all fours and curved her back as golden brown fur broke out over her skin. Her nose stretched long, filling with desert scents while her eyesight faded to grayscale. Her wolf sniffed and whisked its tail, left, then right.

_Free at last._

The first scent to stand out—jump out, was more like it—was Zack's, and she fought the urge to hurry back inside. She tilted her nose higher to catch more distant scents, slowly honing in on her prey. There—there it was. Warm-blooded. Musky. Meaty. Something young and healthy. Something strong.

She drew the scent deep into her lungs until it practically circulated in her bloodstream and she could imagine a dotted line snaking over the lumpy landscape to her quarry. Then she shook her furry body and set off on her hunt.

Hunt. A term that was frequently misunderstood—especially her kind of hunt.

Only certain hunts involved killing, and sometimes that task fell to her—to cull the weak and send their bodies back to the earth, their spirits back to the sky. That kind of prey often succumbed quickly, even gratefully. That's what her bow was for—to deliver a quick and merciful end.

Tonight, though, would be a different type of hunt, and it wasn't about killing. It was the trickiest kind of hunt because catching prey alive and uninjured was a far greater challenge.

Rae set off at a trot, ears perked, eyes wary. She would have one chance to get this right.

She settled into a long lope, trying to foresee how tonight's hunt would unfold. Her prey might flee, or it might fight—anything to stay safe. If only her prey knew what was best for it, her life would be a lot easier.

Her wolf pulled its lips back in a grin. _Now, what fun would that be?_

One mile stretched into two, then three, as she wound through the scrubby terrain, closing in on her prey. Her paws pounded over dirt and rock, nose high in the air. Zack's style of tracking would be different: nose to the ground as he traced his quarry by following their trail. Hers involved teasing her prey's location out of the myriad scents in the air and closing in on them. That meant she could take shortcuts without fear of losing the trail. But it had to be a fresh and active scent for that to work. A tracker like Zack, on the other hand, could follow older trails, and over longer distances.

_We'd be a good team,_ her wolf decided.

She pushed the thought away. Hunting was a solitary occupation, right?

_Wasn't always that way,_ her wolf grumbled. _In the old days—_

Rae cut it off there. Yes, she'd heard the stories of the glory days, when entire packs would join the hunt and run as one in the night. But those days were gone. Her kind had become as rare as the species it was her job to protect, and group hunts even more rare.

Still, it felt good to be out running in the night, even alone. Her heart pounded and her claws skittered over ground. She raced up a rocky mesa then padded to a stop and crept over a ridge. Below her, a tight little valley with a tall line of trees followed the meandering path of a stream. She could smell fresh water and the lush scent of the plants sucking it all in.

There. Her quarry was there, in the shadows below.

It was drinking from the stream in short sips, popping its head up regularly to scan the area before ducking down to drink again. Its movements were barely perceptible in the gray-on-black shadows, but once Rae had honed in on it, the shape grew clear.

A pronghorn. A magnificent desert pronghorn, one of the rarest of the rare. The pure white of its rump flashed against the landscape, while the darker lines accenting its curves blurred its edges, making it a mere ghost in the night. A female. Young, sturdy, and very much on edge.

As the doe should be. The few pronghorns left in the wild were valued by trophy hunters for their beautiful pelts and one-of-a-kind horns. They'd been hunted to near-extinction before making a tenuous recovery—but who knew? Every individual was critical to the species' survival—especially a young female like this.

Except it was too early in the season for the gazelle-like creature to be in this neck of the desert. What was the silly doe thinking?

Sadly, pronghorns weren't known for their brains.

_She'll be fast, though._ Her wolf licked its lips. _Fast enough to give a good chase._

Therein lay the challenge. A wolf would have to be clever _and_ fit to catch a pronghorn like this.

_Watch me,_ her wolf grinned.

She pressed her belly to the ground and let the earth's heat seep into her body as she formulated a plan. She'd circle and approach from the west, sticking to the thick line of scrub flanking the trees. Then she'd—

A twig snapped on her right and the desert went deathly still. The pronghorn flicked its ears—once, twice—then fled.

Rae cursed and whipped her head toward the intruder: a coyote, just coming over the rise. He'd been quiet, but not quiet enough.

No, not a coyote. A wolf. Or was it a coyote?

Something in between, she decided. A very sexy something with the imposing size of a wolf and the coloring of a coyote.

Zack?

She hated that part of her gave a happy zing to see him. The other part, however, couldn't help a yelp of protest. He was ruining her hunt!

She took off after her quarry, claws scuttling over the earth while her wolf lodged an entire catalog of complaints.

_Stupid man! Stupid tracker! Stupid..._ Then the memories kicked in. _Sexy man. Sexy tracker. Sensitive lover..._

_Enough!_ The hunter in her roared and concentrated on the chase. She could hear Zack tearing through the brush behind her; no reason for stealth now. Her ears flicked forward, concentrating on the pronghorn. She had to get it!

The pronghorn was fast but foolish in its panic. It crashed through the thicker scrub along the creek bank while Rae pounded a parallel path in the clearer ground above. She stretched her muzzle forward, lengthening her stride to keep pace with this fleet-footed doe.

The chase stretched on, over rocks, gullies, and hills. Rae lost herself in the sensations: the desperate hoofbeats over dry earth, the rhythm of her pounding heart, the sound of her fellow wolf close behind.

At first she'd been annoyed. What was Zack thinking, coming after her like this? But having him involved in the hunt added to the thrill. She'd done all her hunting alone, and while she'd never felt lonely, she'd also never felt so connected to her own kind.

_In the old days..._ her wolf started.

Yes, she'd heard about the old days, when wolves hunted in packs and tended their territories as one. They kept the herds strong by culling the weak, the old, and the sick. In return, the herds kept the wolves fed. It was an ageless, symbiotic relationship that ensured balance and survival of both species—and a responsibility still honored by hunters like her.

Rae ran as she'd never run before, tuned in to both her quarry and to Zack. To share the thrill of the hunt... There was a certain rightness to it.

Her mind spun as her limbs continued the chase. If the hunt was once a pack affair, then...

Her ears flicked back to Zack. Did he know anything about her kind of hunting? Would he know how to work in tandem to bring down their prey—not to kill it, but to send it on a better path?

She flipped through a hundred possible scenarios. Could she trust him?

In an instant, her decision was made. All or nothing. She cut sharply to the right, up the hillside. Could she trust Zack?

There was only one way to find out.

# Chapter Fourteen

_Jesus, but the she-wolf could run. That pronghorn, too._

Zack panted and searched for another gear to throw his four feet into, but he was already going flat out. He ought to feel guilty for scaring off her prey, but hell, he'd still been half asleep when he came across them. And anyway, Rae was the one who'd walked out on him in the middle of the night.

A night he'd thought was perfect, until he woke up alone.

He couldn't believe it at first. A couple of rounds of intense sex, a quick cuddle, and Rae had made tracks.

Well, maybe she was smart to do so. After all, a man like him couldn't offer much: just a shack on the edge of the ranch, a crazy job, and an uncertain pedigree. The only thing he could really offer was his heart, and that was worn as thin as an overused couch.

Still, it hurt. Bad. That feeling of being left behind was an old one, and the pain went further back than a couple of hours. It went back years. Lots of them.

One night, his father would be home, the warm bass of his voice filling the house. The next, a motorcycle engine would roar to life, carrying an impatient man out of a young boy's life. Every couple of months, his dad would drop in, looking clean, repentant, and deceptively sincere—a state that would last just long enough for Zack to save up a little hope. Long enough for it to sting when the man disappeared again. In and out, in and out, with little Zack hiding beneath his patchwork quilt, afraid to fall asleep for fear of who might come—or worse, who might go. Wondering what it might be like to hear an engine coming instead of going.

He'd pushed the memories away for so long that when they came back, they came back with a bang.

At first, he'd sat slumped on the bed, kneading his brow and wondering at when his subconscious had decided that things could be different. Where had the wild ideas come from? Ideas like sleeping long, solid, and off guard, knowing that he'd have a person he loved for more than one night.

He caught himself there. He wasn't a kid any more, and as for love—no, he didn't love Rae. More like...liked her. And he'd had his fun, so what more did he want?

_More,_ his wolf whimpered, morose. _Mate. Keep._

_Forever,_ the coyote added.

He shook his head. He couldn't love Rae. It was forbidden. This whole night had been a mistake.

Coyote and wolf voices roared in his head. _No mistake!_

He'd been planning to feel sorry for himself a while longer, but his nose had started twitching. There was something was in the air, and not just the scent of regret. Some nocturnal event; something exciting. His hands fisted in the sheets. Was Rae in danger? Was Jed back?

He leaped to his feet, flung the door open, and shifted to canine form, senses on full alert while scents and sounds assaulted him.

The new moon. The desert, caught between two breaths. Something was happening out there.

He paced on the porch, sniffing. Where was Rae?

Like needles on a thousand tiny compasses, every sensor in him swung north. There. She was there. Somehow, he just knew. He took off at a punishing pace, tracking her fresh scent through the night. It wasn't long before anger and pain gave way to the thrill of the chase. There was a high in it, running through the cool night air. His legs were strong and sure as they carried him over the hill, around a mesa, up over a rise—

Where two heads had popped up in surprise. He let out an inner curse. _Shit._

One was the slender face of a pronghorn—a doe with wide eyes, erect ears, and inward curving horns. The other was a she-wolf with a silky brownish-gold coat, long legs, and an aristocratic tilt to her chin.

Rae yipped her displeasure at the noise he made then shot off after the pronghorn.

The promise of a double chase pushed away any instinct Zack had to hang his head in shame. The pronghorn was taking off, Rae was taking off, and dammit—he was off, too. He would not be left behind!

So there he was, running with his paws on fire, his teeth clenched in resolve. But damn if the two females weren't giving him a run for his money. He caught glances of the pronghorn's thin legs pistoning up and down, its flag of a tail flicking as it ran in great leaps and bounds. The doe was running on high-octane fuel: fear for her life.

Rae, on the other hand, ran on the wings of some desert spirit. There was an aura about her, a glow. Her coat shouldn't shimmer quite so much on a moonless night, but there it was, flashing over the landscape like a golden fish in murky water. He'd never seen a wolf move like that: a tight package of grace, determination, passion, and pure feminine power.

_Oh, but you have seen that,_ his coyote hummed. _And not too long ago._

He nearly stumbled when the image jumped into his mind: Rae, tugging him toward the bed between flashes of lightning. Rae, lying back and inviting him to explore. Rae, writhing in pleasure as he thrust into her, again and again.

His inner thermometer jumped by twenty degrees. OK, so the two of them had been on fire. But that was only sex, right?

His coyote snorted. _Who else ever lit you on fire? Who else ever made you feel so alive?_

He thought long and hard but came up empty. Worse, he was lagging behind. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, determined not to lose contact with the chase.

But there was determination, and there was sheer inborn speed. His tongue lolled sideways out of his mouth while the females showed no signs of tiring. If anything, they were inching away. The pronghorn had two hundred yards on Rae, who had half that distance on him. And Christ, he wasn't sure he could catch them, not even at a full-out sprint.

Then his she-wolf suddenly cut off at an angle and hammered upslope, away from the pronghorn. He slowed, torn in two different directions. What was Rae doing?

His ears flicked, picking up a whisper in the night. By the time it wound its way into his mind, though, it was more image than sound. If he stayed behind the pronghorn, then drove it right...

An entire scene played out in his mind. If he edged left, the doe would veer right. And if Rae was fast enough, she could cut over the hilltop and cut the pronghorn off on the other side.

_We hunt as a pack,_ the whisper told him. _Like the old days._

Zack wasn't sure what those old days were, but he grinned and shot off after the pronghorn.

_Clever,_ his human side decided.

_Insulting,_ his wolf huffed. _She wants us to play sheepdog?_

_Cunning,_ the coyote smiled. _She does her part, we do ours._

It was two against one, because the man in him was with the coyote: smitten with the challenge. And hell, he'd never been on a hunt like this before. Tracking was in his blood, but that was slow and steady, his nose testing every inch of earth before moving on. This was a high-speed chase with whipping branches, crashing hoofbeats, and pounding hearts. This was thrilling, instinctual. The only times he'd been out on this kind of hunt had been frivolous, opportunistic chases of a wayward deer or boar. A pronghorn was in a totally different class, especially one as fleet as this.

Rae was in a totally different class, too. She carried her nose straight as an arrow, her tail proud as a banner.

His wolf wasn't sure he liked the arrangement, though.

_Aren't men supposed to lead and women to follow? Shouldn't an alpha fight from the front and force victory with raw power?_

The coyote laughed the notion aside. _Hate to point it out to you, but we're bringing up the rear. And the view ain't half bad._

He watched Rae disappear into the scrub from the corner of his eye as he followed the pronghorn. Maybe there were other ways to achieve a goal. Maybe a smart alpha knew when to lead and when to follow.

His eyelid twitched, the wolf in him uneasy. _Me, a sheepdog?_

His coyote snorted. _Pompous fucking wolf._

He swung left, decision made. If Rae wanted a sheepdog, he'd give her one. He took a deep breath, lifted his muzzle, and let out a howl as he raced along. A good howl that rumbled and threatened a thousand bloody deaths. Of course, running at full tilt like that, it was more hot air than anything else. A wolf would never fall for that bullshit, but a pronghorn...

Sure enough, the doe skittered right, just where he wanted her to go.

Zack bayed and yipped, putting on a show that filled him with childish pleasure, just like the kind he got from revving his Harley at a red light.

And it worked. The doe went wide-eyed in panic and drifted right, still a good hundred yards ahead. It was a gap his burning lungs would never close. But it didn't matter, because there was a flash of gold and a grunt on his right. Rae came flying through the air like a Valkyrie straight out of hell. She pounced, and wolf and antelope went rolling in a flurry of flailing hooves, wild grunts, and gleaming teeth.

Zack's heart seized. One lucky kick and the pronghorn could crush Rae's ribs, smash her head, or put out an eye. There was nothing certain about a hunt. Shifters healed quickly, but they weren't immune to pain. Besides, a lucky kick would let the pronghorn escape, and something about Rae's urgency told him that couldn't happen tonight.

When he was two steps away, the tussle came to an abrupt stop, and he skidded to a halt. What the hell was going on?

Rae had the pronghorn pinned as sure as any cowboy threw a steer. Her jaws were clamped around its neck, her body forcing the doe down. She huffed through her teeth, ordering her quarry to submit. He could see the panicked whites of the pronghorn's eyes roll, its striped flanks heave in terror.

But there was no death bite, no gush of blood. Rae wasn't killing the doe; she was holding it. There was a grunt and a wiggle and then silence as the pronghorn's eyes registered something else. It ceased the struggle and just...listened.

Zack listened, too, tilting his head. There was a whisper in the air, faint as filtered starlight from a thousand light-years away. A whisper that carried images, not words, and a scene formed in his mind.

There was a brokeback mountain, a crooked stream, and a wide, green valley swimming in grass. Somewhere up north. Not that he'd ever been there; he just knew. Next, he saw a rocky outcrop, an irregular hillside, and a flash of white: the tail of another pronghorn. A big male, by the look of it.

_There,_ the image seemed to be telling the doe. _That is where you must go._

Rae loomed over her prey, forcing it to listen to that whisper that rose out of the ground. Then the images rushed into a blur in a bird's-eye flyover of the route to that special place.

Zack sat down abruptly, hitting rocky ground with a jolt of realization.

_Holy shit._

He'd heard the legends, of course, but never imagined they were true. Legends of a great huntress with speed and stamina to match any prey. A huntress who guarded the creatures roaming her territory, keeping the herds—and by extension, her pack—healthy. The kind of hunter who tended the earth and maintained a natural balance thrown badly off-kilter in modern times.

The pronghorn struggled to its feet, wobbled a few steps, and dropped its head in exhaustion. There wasn't a drop of blood on its pelt; Rae had been careful. Then the doe gave a clicking kind of grunt and trotted off into the night, heading for the green valley in the north where she would find her mate.

_Mate,_ came a faint echo from his wolf.

His eyes settled on Rae, who had eased into a sitting position and was studiously licking her paw. Most shifter packs—wolf and coyote—had master hunters. But a master huntress... His mind fumbled for the term he'd heard whispered, long ago. Mistress...Mistress of the Hunt. She who tended the herds as a servant of Mother Earth.

It had been generations since a true huntress had walked the earth. So long that the Mistress of the Hunt had fallen into the realm of legend.

But it wasn't a legend. It was true.

It was Rae.

He lowered his head slowly with a reverent huff.

Rae. His Rae. Mistress of the Hunt.

# Chapter Fifteen

Rae watched the pronghorn disappear into the night.

_Godspeed, my friend. Good luck._ She pushed the thought, loud and clear, from her mind to the doe's, then dropped her chin. The usual post-hunt high washed over her like a drug: she felt weary, yet triumphant. Humble, yet all-powerful. So much of her life was lived at the whim of an alpha's command; this was her chance to run free, to sing her song.

A rare chance, too. Soon, this magical night would be over, and she'd be back to just plain Rae, hiding her secret, fretting about her future.

At least it had been a successful hunt. Rewarding, too: that pronghorn was on its way to a safer place and one of her own kind. If Fate smiled on the doe, she would find her mate, breed, and add another generation to a long, beautiful line.

Rae was one in a long and even rarer line. She sensed the connection during every hunt: a link to her grandmother, great-grandmother, and so many others, so long ago. They'd come to the New World in centuries past to tend once-plentiful herds: bison, antelope, elk. But even the great huntresses couldn't hold back the relentless onslaught of pioneers and trophy hunters. All they could do was guide the last survivors to safe havens where they might hide and persevere.

Part of her itched to give chase to the pronghorn once more, while another part was glad to see it run free. Hope rang in its footsteps, and who knew? Maybe there was hope for Rae, too.

She sighed and bent her head to lick a paw trampled in the fight. Zack was watching, but she wasn't quite ready to face him. Having him join the hunt had given her a thrill that a hundred brass horns couldn't provide. The thrill of leading others on a hunt, just like her grandmother had said.

_A little like the old days._ Her wolf smiled.

Well, it was a long way from the old days, but she'd take what she could get. If only she could hunt openly with a pack that appreciated her gift. Unfortunately, such packs were few and far between. Roric's Westend pack couldn't give a damn about balance; their souls were sold to the casinos. Other packs might value a huntress like her, but there was a danger in that, too. The wrong kind of pack would rein her in, tie her down. She needed to range wide and far in search of worthy prey, something packs today with their splintered territories would hardly support. If the wrong pack claimed her, she would be reduced to hunting sheep or javelina when her blood called for the rarest of the rare—bighorn, pronghorn, and other species toeing the thin line between survival and extinction.

And now, Zack knew her secret. What if he gave her away?

Rae growled, pushing her human anxieties away. Tonight—what there was left of it—was for celebrating small triumphs: a successful hunt, and a single doe on her way to safe territory and a mate.

_Mate._

On cue, her wolf turned to Zack. His green eyes were deep and honest. Wolf, coyote, or human: a trio in one, who looked at her in wonder and surprise, then dipped his head in respect.

Something primal in Rae stirred, and she wanted it again: that feeling of being worshiped—not as a Mistress of the Hunt, but as an ordinary woman who couldn't deny her attraction to this man.

_Mine. Mate._ Her wolf growled as she stepped toward Zack. He would make a worthy mate. Honest and true. A friend. Who could understand her better than a tracker?

He kept his head low as she circled him.

_This hunt is finished,_ she wanted to say.

_But we're not,_ her wolf grinned, grinding her shoulder against his.

His eyes shone as if he still couldn't believe what he'd seen, so she butted him lightly with her hip. But this time, the contact slowed and stretched until it was a full-body rub along his side. Long, sleek, and close, she slid along the length of his coat. The coyote coloring made him appear smaller from a distance, but he loomed over her now, big as a wolf. Bigger, in fact, than most. She rubbed all the way around him and down the other side, sending up sparks.

When Zack turned his head and his eyes met hers, they said everything. That he was done with the hunt, but only getting started with her.

Heart thumping, she forced herself two steps away and took a measured breath. Hunting brought out her passion, and that passion wasn't easily quenched. In hunts past, she would slip home and find herself a wolf lover to take the edge off. She could do the same now with him. Her wolf wanted it, and his, too.

But tonight... Tonight was different, somehow. She didn't want fast and hard. She wanted slow. Graceful. Satisfying—not just for her body but her soul. And wolves, well, they weren't much good at anything but a hard, fast fuck.

_Hey!_ her wolf huffed.

But her mind was made up. Humans were much pickier about choosing partners. Rae was picky. She wanted Zack—the man.

But would he want her? Would he want slow, graceful, and sweet?

As she looked into the warm peat of his eyes, Zack stood impossibly still. Wishing, wanting, waiting. For her.

And just like that, she slipped from arousal to full heat. She wanted him—all of him, for all of her. She pushed forward, shifting smoothly in midstep to her human form. Her back lifted and straightened, her shoulders stretched, and her jaw clicked. Then she breathed deeply and stood naked on two feet in the desert night. It was cooler like this. Invigorating.

Zack stood still, holding his breath. His wolf stood so tall, she could run a hand along his back without dipping a shoulder. His fur was wiry and thick against her palm, and she couldn't resist working her fingers down to the skin as she circled him once again. She ran the back of her hand along his right side then stepped in front of him, naked and exposed. She shivered, both from the night chill and the primal heat zipping through her body.

_Decide, wolf,_ she strained to tell him as her nipples hardened into tight peaks. _Take me or leave me. Take the risk._

He blinked, slow and ponderous, and she circled him again. Her hand rose as he shifted and came to two feet, his human side stealing the night back from the beast. Fur gave way to smooth, supple skin as her fingers continued her path, sliding from his hips to a rear so tight and square with muscle that she shivered. She came around his shoulder, a dancer in a slow waltz, and stepped right into an embrace.

Zack—human Zack—pulled her close, nose to her hair, and continued the movement without missing a beat. His arms stroked her the way she had stroked his wolf, making her body throb with building need.

"Rae," he whispered.

He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip before kissing her exactly as he had the very first time. The scent of wolf hung on him still, and the flavor of coyote was on the tongue that tangled with hers, soft and sweet. Yet he was all human, all man.

She couldn't help glancing down when he reluctantly broke the kiss off. Definitely all man.

He smiled that secret smile, and her knees wobbled just a little bit. She wanted to hand herself over to him, then and there. The hunter in her was gone with her wolf, and now she was all woman. She wanted to surrender, to give herself over to his touch. To trust.

Trust. She turned the word over in her mind. When had she ever really trusted a man?

She closed her eyes and sighed as Zack slid his hands along her ribs, ghosting along the outside curve of her breasts.

Tonight. Tonight she would trust.

His hand cupped her fully, setting her on fire. She pressed into him, trying to squeeze away every last atom between their bodies.

_Zack..._

It was an inner sigh more than anything else, because speaking now might break the spell of this magical night. Her body cried for more, and he readily gave it, toying with both breasts, pushing his erection into her stomach. Heat pulsed off his chest as his mouth explored hers, swift and sure.

His hands slid down to the small of her back, then climbed up, and finally dove again, scooping her close. So close that her balance was thrown, her body tipping backward.

Trust. The word echoed in her mind as she forced herself to let go. She tipped farther and farther off-balance, so far she was sure she would crash gracelessly to the ground.

"Gotcha," Zack whispered, locking his arms firmly behind her. She felt feather-light as he lowered her to the ground and followed, settling carefully along the length of her body. The rock beneath her was flat and smooth; above, Zack was all heat.

_Take me. Love me. Mate me._ Her wolf was begging inside, and it was all she could do to lock the words in.

Dipping his head, Zack went to work on her breasts. She arched into his mouth, wanting more of what she'd tasted earlier that night—that screaming, soaring high. The physical high was only one part of it, though. The rest went deeper, sending her soul singing and dancing. Rae wanted to drag this out and make the last hours of the night stretch on forever.

But her body was skipping ahead, making her drop her knees wide and guiding his hand down to stroke her sex. She caught a grin _—Jesus, that smile_ —before closing her eyes to the sweet sensation of his fingers tickling her folds. She gasped when his lips grasped her nipple at the same time, bringing her higher and higher. One finger, then two slipped inside her and stirred a moan from her throat.

"Good," she couldn't help whispering. "So good."

Zack's grin stretched, and his green eyes narrowed. Just when Rae was sure he'd nudge her legs wider and push home, Zack took firm hold of her hips and rolled them both around. She reared above him, her knees straddling his hips.

"You want the bottom?" She gaped.

"I want this view."

She sucked in a breath, let it out slowly, then leaned back on her heels to sit tall over his prone body. She tilted her chin up toward the stars. "They are beautiful." The sky was almost free of clouds now, and the stars sparkled in one of those nights of million-mile clarity that only come after a storm. "Like jewels in the sky."

"Not the stars," he murmured. "You. Riding me." He tipped his hips up.

She caught her lower lip in her teeth and formed a triangle over him, one arm on either side of his muscled chest. Then she slid a little higher along his body and lowered herself slowly over his cock.

"Oh!" she cried, taking him deep.

"Oh," he chuckled.

She rocked back, taking him deeper, forcing those perfect lips open in his own silent _Oh._ Gripping her hips tightly, he pushed up, seating himself deep as her inner muscles gripped tightly.

_We make a good team,_ her wolf purred.

_That we do,_ she could have sworn she heard him think, but her mind went blank with his next grinding thrust. She let her muscles ripple over his cock, tightening and loosening in a sensual wave.

His eyes closed while he groaned, long and unsteady, like a rolling log in a swirling river.

"Gotcha." She smiled, liking what she saw.

Zack opened his eyes and found a new grip on her hips, guiding her into another plunge. Down she went, wet, wide, and aching for more. She let her muscles tug on him as she pulled up, hovered over the broad head of him, and pushed down again. She could have played there forever, but a new inspiration seized her. On the next up, she slid her whole body back and away, her breasts bouncing over his thighs as she took his cock with her lips. Not a lazy lick, or a slow glide down. She made a mental oath to deliver that next time. Instead, she rushed to inhale him, extracting another groan from her lover.

_Mine. All mine._

She took him again and again until he was slick and swollen, his body motionless but for the fingers twirling madly in her hair and the garbled words pouring from his throat. A rush went through her as the balance of power tipped toward her end of the scale. Of course, power wasn't the point—it was about trust. Zack was trusting her to take him this way—a rare act for a dominant wolf. The question was, how far did her trust go?

Far enough that when he jackknifed up a moment later, rasping her name, she let him take control and roll them until he came out on top, wearing a devilish grin that said, _Watch this._

# Chapter Sixteen

Zack could have thrown his head back and howled when he came out of that roll. Rae was beneath him, wide-eyed and ready for more. She'd given him the ride of his life and now, he would reciprocate, so she'd never want anyone else again. It would be him, only him.

_Mine!_ the wolf inside him roared.

The way her wolf had teased him with those long drags on his fur had nearly been his undoing. But when Rae shifted back to her human form and let her fingers play along his back, his wolf had started humming inside, leaning into the touch. When she circled him the second time, the shift snuck up on him, so smooth and so fast he barely found his balance on two bare feet.

Vague inner warnings like _Forbidden_ were forgotten the instant Rae molded herself to his body in a perfect fit. Her trust wasn't given lightly, and that alone was enough to push aside duty and honor and pack. He had to touch her, taste her, fill her.

Her skin was soft and warm, and underneath was a taut layer of muscle: thin as sheet metal in places, corrugated over her abdomen, thicker in the thighs. Thighs that were gripping him now, drawing him in. The thunder and lightning had long since moved on, but he could still feel the electricity in what she did to him. His lips moved over her shoulder, tasting her again and again, and then everything became the squeeze on his cock as he slid home.

He thought he'd climbed as high as a man could climb, but he soared even higher when Rae tipped her chin down to watch his cock disappear inside. Her face glowed as she watched him slide in, one hot, tight inch at a time. Her lips parted, her eyes slid shut, and deep inside, he could feel her tremble.

He wanted to memorize the feel of it all. The sight of her under him. The perfect fit at the juncture of their bodies, the tight tangle of their legs.

He thrust so deep, he nearly lost himself on the first plunge. Rae's eyes were glassy, and he penetrated again, burning with pleasure every inch of the way. A pull back, then another thrust, and another—he let momentum build until the movement was a thing of its own. His breath was ragged, barely in control.

"Zack," she groaned, tightening her legs behind his back.

_Mate,_ his wolf growled inside.

When she clamped down over the length of his cock, all thought fled except the desire to fulfill her.

"Now," she cried.

"Now," he echoed while he still could. Then his hips took over in a crescendo that seemed to rock the stone they lay upon, as hard and fast as an out-of-control wave. It built and crested inside then came in a rush as he emptied into her.

He kept his tight grip on her hips as his body went stiff, feeling Rae clutch him with every muscle and limb. She convulsed with a cry then went limp and breathless against his chest.

Somehow, he found just enough coordination to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, listening to the wild beating of her heart.

"You're amazing," he murmured at last.

She was so much more than what was visible from the outside. A few minutes ago, she'd been a mighty huntress; now, she was all woman.

All his.

"Not bad yourself," she chuckled back.

Her scent filled his nose, and her heat filled his arms. Their breaths evened out, and time stretched and decelerated, as if Fate were giving him the gift of time.

Mistress of the Hunt. Had he imagined it all? The chase, the pronghorn, the scene that had appeared in his mind? Could a woman like her ever settle for a half-breed like him?

He glanced down, finding stroking him like a harp. She sighed, sinking deeper into him as the stars arched slowly overhead.

"Is this what you came out here for?" He ventured at last. "To hunt?"

She gestured toward the valley, the mesas, the endless miles beyond. "I need space," she said, determination creeping into her voice.

Zack peered into the starry night, wondering how much space she needed. Wondering whether she might be willing to share.

"But you...you held it," he whispered, snuggling her closer in case the words set off her instinct to flee. "The pronghorn, I mean."

Rae shook her head slowly, looking weary, yet satisfied. "Wolves have always been the guardians of the herds. We keep them strong."

He ran a finger over the soft skin of her neck. "Never seen a wolf do that before."

She shrugged and cast her eyes down. "You know that corny line. If you love something, set it free."

But there was more to her hunt than that corny line, and he knew it. "You didn't kill it."

"That pronghorn didn't need killing. She needed..." Rae trailed off, studying him as if to gauge how much to say. "She needed to listen."

"And that's what you do? You tell them where to go?" The image of the green valley had been so clear, he could smell the fresh grass, taste the clean breeze. "Where they'll be safe?"

Rae took a long time measuring her words before speaking. "I don't say anything. The Earth Spirits do. I just make sure she listens."

He nodded. "So she'll know where to go. Where she'll be safe. Where she'll find a mate..." He trailed off, glad Rae's eyes avoided his while he fought down the squeezing sensation in his chest.

The thing was, he didn't need a whisper in the night. He knew where to find his mate.

_Right here._ His coyote hummed in satisfaction.

Rae cleared her throat and mumbled, "A good hunt."

_A very good hunt_ , his wolf rumbled inside.

"Interesting kind of hunt," he added, trying to keep his voice steady.

Rae pursed her lips. "There's killing, too, when there needs to be. The old, the weak, the sick. Everything has its time. I do it right, though," she continued, sounding fierce. "Quick, and with honor. Not like those damn trappers, the bear-baiters, the humans who get it wrong. They take the strongest bucks, the brightest females."

It all fit perfectly with the stories his grandmother used to tell. But Rae was no coyote. "You're not Diné," he said.

_Diné?_ her eyes asked.

"Navajo."

She shook her head. "My family came from Europe. They couldn't stop humans from decimating the herds there, so they came to the New World. They did their best to keep the herds strong, but others came, too. Too many, too fast."

That story, Zack knew all too well. "Are you the only one?"

Her pulse slowed to a sad thump. "My grandmother was the only huntress in the Four Corners region. The gift skipped a generation with my mom. And me... I'm the only one I know who's...different."

Zack pulled her closer, wishing he could say what he felt: that he knew how it felt to be different, to be alone. But Rae was special, one of a kind. And he was just a mutt.

_Try selling that,_ his coyote cried, suddenly morose.

# Chapter Seventeen

To Rae, a night had never felt so good, and dawn had never come so swiftly. She lay snuggled alongside Zack, alternatively snoozing and watching the stars until orange and pink hues invaded the sky.

A new day. What revelations would this one bring?

She rolled to face Zack, matching each part of her body to his, and took his lips in a last kiss. The last, at least, for that night. Then she stood, stretched, and offered him a hand.

He didn't move at first, and she wondered what was going through his mind. He'd gone from passionate and hopeful to downright quiet as the first rays of sunlight tiptoed over the earth.

"Hey." She gave him an encouraging smile. "Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty."

He cracked one eyelid open. "That would be you."

The crazy thing was, he wasn't joking. His fingers closed around hers like he never wanted to let go.

She squeezed and pulled him up. Lying on the ground, they'd come out eye to eye, but standing, he towered over her. There was so much of him, and so much to him. The man was more than a tracker.

_This man could be our mate,_ her wolf said.

She took a deep breath and looked over the hills. It was a long way back to the cabin.

"On foot or...on foot?" she joked.

He flashed the smile she was hoping for, catching her meaning right away. Should they shift into wolf form to cover the miles back or walk on bare human feet?

"Four feet would be quicker." He said it quietly, almost testing her.

"Right, then." She nodded. "Let's go on two feet."

The smile stretched. "Right, then, two feet."

They picked their way through the scrub, cutting over the hill, then winding through the valley where she'd first found her prey. It all seemed so different in daytime and as a human, but one thing was the same: the thrill she got from Zack being there at her side.

_Imagine hunting like this all the time. With him._

It was so easy to imagine, and so tempting.

_But can we trust him?_

_Purrr-fectly,_ her wolf replied, thumping her tail.

Which only brought her to the next question: How much could she trust herself?

The question hung in every prickly pear thorn she tip-toed around and every edgy pebble on the ground. But with Zack's hand tight around hers and his quiet presence at her side, finding a definitive answer didn't feel quite so urgent any more.

They reached the cabin and paused just inside the threshold, gazing at the evidence of their lovemaking. The tangled sheets... The heady musk that still clung to the air. It would be easy, too easy, to slip right back to where they'd left off.

Zack's hand tightened around hers, and he whispered, "We need to get back."

She wanted to stay and pretend that last night could be every night for the rest of her days. But pretending wouldn't get her anywhere, so she scooped up her clothes and dressed. Meanwhile, Zack pulled on his jeans then straightened the bed. She tugged on her shirt then slung her bow and quiver over her shoulders, wishing it wasn't already time to go.

When Zack stepped out the door and pushed the motorcycle off the porch, there was a metallic ting as the keys fell out of his pocket. Rae picked them up as she stepped into the intense morning light, squinting. The night was gone. If she wanted her future, she had to go out and get it.

Zack put out his hand like a catcher's mitt, and she hesitated. Was she ready to put a man in the driver's seat of her life? She jingled the keys, turning the thought over like a tarnished penny.

"You have a motorcycle license, miss?" Zack called.

His tone was joking, but his eyes said, _Give me the keys._ And there it was again—her inner doubt. A bossy alpha was the last thing she needed.

She stiffened slightly. "As a matter of fact, I do."

He studied her then added a lifted eyebrow. _Give me the keys, please._

She fingered the jagged ridge of the key until her wolf nudged her thoughts. _This man, we can trust._

She tossed the key chain to him, putting everything into a look that said, _Do not betray my trust._

Zack tossed her a helmet by way of a promise.

"What about you?" She motioned at the single helmet.

He rapped his fingers on his skull, smiling. "Hard head." Then he started the bike with an easy kick and motioned her onto the back.

With a deep breath, she slid into place. The minute she got in position—chest to his back, legs against his, arms circling his waist—the worries fled. This felt good. Safe. Right.

_Home,_ her wolf murmured _._

With a twist of his wrist, Zack revved and took off, and promise shimmered on the horizon. Maybe it wasn't the end of a beautiful night but the start of a beautiful day. Who knew?

Rae leaned into Zack and let herself revel in every turn and every gear he accelerated through. What a car window was to a dog, she decided, a motorcycle must be to a shifter. Her worries blew away with the wind as she gave herself over to the joy of it. Judging by the swell of Zack's lungs under her tight grip, he felt the same. His shoulders went wide and sang of the joy of an open road, of a humming engine, of a woman's arms—his woman's arms—around his waist.

She smiled into his shoulder blades and let her fingers strum the line of his ribs. When he revved past the spot Jed had cornered her in, she turned her head away. She would deal with her broken-down car later. And as for Jed, Zack had scared him off, right?

She wasn't going to let anything ruin this day. And she was damn well going to stretch it out for as long as she possibly could. Why rush back to the ranch?

But the phone vibrated in Zack's pocket when they hit the highway and turned south. Several times, in fact, in what seemed like a series of urgent messages. He pulled over at a roadside diner, took it out, and scowled.

"Shit."

Maybe hiding out at the cabin forever hadn't been such a crazy idea after all.

_What?_ She wanted to yell the question. _What did the message say?_

He glared at the display, glanced at her, then back at the phone. His fingers tightened around it so hard she thought the housing would crack.

"Zack?"

A cloud passed over his face before he punched the phone off for good. _Let them wait,_ those green eyes said, screaming defiance.

What was going on?

He stomped into the diner, pulling her with him. "Breakfast."

It wasn't so much an invitation as a declaration, the taking of a stand. Never had she seen the alpha in him come that close to the surface.

_But he's holding the power back,_ her wolf said. _Holding it back, just for us._ _See what a good mate he would make?_

She squeezed her lips together but didn't protest.

"Coffee?" she asked cheerfully.

"Coffee," he rumbled.

They sat down and lingered over every bite of pancake, every sip of coffee. And if their movements were mechanical at first, the tension gripping Zack's shoulders gradually unwound. Like the storm that had come and gone last night, his mood moved on, and blue skies followed.

Literally. She got back on the bike and tipped her chin to the sky, soaking in the sun. Zack drove under the speed limit, no more eager than she to get back to the ranch. They'd barely gone twenty miles down the road before he pulled over at a scenic overlook where they went straight from taking in the view to taking in each other's lips for another happy minute, or an hour. With him, it was easy to lose track of time.

"This is beautiful," she murmured at last.

"This is nothing," he said, and his secret smile hinted that he knew a better spot.

Sure enough, it wasn't long into the last stretch of road before he swung the bike off the highway at an unmarked juncture. They bumped off-road for half a mile before dismounting and walking to a field of boulders in the shade of a bluff. He pointed to swirls and lines etched into the rock.

"Petroglyphs," she murmured, tracing the air a millimeter above the rock. "Navajo—I mean, Diné?"

He shrugged. "Nobody knows. But there's a feel to this place."

She closed her eyes and tuned in until she felt it—a vibration in the air, like an ancient chant. The whisper of the past. His past?

She opened her eyes on Zack. Coyote, Diné. White man, wolf. Zack had a little of everything in him, and she loved it all.

She stepped closer and hugged him, reaching for his lips to taste what she'd seen. They kissed until their arms started to wander and their tongues reached deeper, when Zack broke off with a start.

"Not here," he whispered, moving away with her hand firmly in his.

Apparently, it was taboo to get heated up in a place as sacred as that. Rae followed her lover silently downslope. A few minutes later, Zack pulled her into a sycamore grove.

"Here," he whispered, picking up where he'd left off.

His hands explored her body, firing every nerve into action, until they'd both stripped and made slow, sweet love as only two destined mates could. By the time the sun was low and they made their way back to the bike, Rae was sure.

_Mate. Mine._

She waited a moment for some inner voice of protest, but none came. Those words sounded just right.

_Those words are right,_ her wolf decided.

She could have laughed at herself. There she was, hanging on much tighter than necessary as Zack motored down the highway. The tables had turned, because she wanted to possess him. To keep him, to care for him, to share good and bad and everything in between. And if he wanted to possess her the same way, well, that was a good thing. Especially if he shared the same feeling settling over her now: the one that had her swearing she'd do anything for him.

She closed her eyes and let the wind brush her face. Maybe she didn't have to sell her soul for a man. Maybe she could free it.

"Zack," she called softly, but the wind dragged her voice away.

She wanted to make him pull over so she could tell him what she felt. But they'd already made so many stops and whittled the day away... It really was time to get back to the ranch. The minute they got there, though, she would follow Zack home to his cabin and make sure it was lonely no more.

She smiled into his back, because a day had never been as perfect as this one.

She only snapped out of her thoughts when they rumbled over the cattle grid beneath the ranch gate. Zack's entire body stiffened, and her head popped up to take in the scene. Two words sounded in her mind, and the voice that spoke them was his.

_Oh, shit._

# Chapter Eighteen

Zack drove straight into a maelstrom more intense than the lightning storm of the previous night. It was in the air, in the guarded faces that greeted them, and in the strange sense of anticipation that cramped his shoulders.

He rolled the motorcycle to a stop. What was going on?

Ty pushed away from where he'd been leaning against the council house, studying the sky for some sign from the gods or some miraculous means of escape. Either would have explained that weary look on his face. When Ty brought his chin down, Zack saw those dark eyes flash between him and Rae.

Whenever Ty was worked up, his eyes packed the power of a punch. And while he was certainly worked up—the set of Ty's jaw was always a dead giveaway, along with his telltale scratching of an ear—tonight seemed different. His eyes mimicked the steady swing of a clock pendulum, solemnly winding up to the hour.

_Bong._

The pendulum swung left, and Zack felt that gaze bore into him.

_Bong._

It flicked to Rae.

Another silent tick went by, then another heavy bong. Ty's gaze went back to Zack.

_Make sure none of the guys dick around with her._ The words of the pack's future leader echoed in Zack's mind.

When Ty's gaze swung back to Rae and his nostrils flared, Zack knew he knew. For all that the whipping wind had scoured them on the ride back, the scent of sex remained.

Part of Zack wanted to fold up and slink away, while another part wanted to stand tall and beat his chest. Frozen between the two, he waited for Ty's eyes to ignite, sizzle, and spit. He waited for the pendulum to morph into the sweep of an angry tail on a very ferocious wolf.

But the light in Ty's eyes fizzled away. They only sparked again when old Tyrone stomped over, his eyes overflowing with the rage so strangely absent from his son's face.

When the old alpha's eyes jumped to Zack, he had to fight the instinct to stumble backward. Then those eyes shifted to Rae and went suddenly neutral. Calculating.

Zack looked at the way the old alpha studied Rae, and suddenly, it all clicked.

Rae. A Mistress of the Hunt. A legend reborn.

A legend said to bring prosperity to the lands she tended.

His pulse throbbed through his veins. Somehow, the old man had found out Rae's secret—or he'd known it all along.

Rae hadn't come to the ranch as casual help. She had come to be studied. Verified. A pack that claimed a huntress among its ranks would boom and prosper. She would bring prestige to the pack—and to the family she mated into.

The old alpha's eyes flicked to Ty, and Zack's heart sank to his boots.

Rae had been brought in to be mated to the alpha's son—Ty.

"Where the hell have you been?" Old Tyrone snapped. His head jerked toward the door of the council house. "Inside, now!"

Everything in Zack screamed for him to bundle Rae onto his motorcycle and get the hell away. To rev the engine higher than he'd ever done and race far, far away. But his feet were already shuffling to the council house, pulled by Tyrone's fury and sheer force of habit. His whole life, he'd obeyed the alpha, and habit was a hard thing to break, even with his soul howling inside. It was his duty to serve the pack.

_To hell with duty!_ his coyote cried.

Rae gripped his hand as she moved toward the council house, even though she looked like she wanted to run. Her eyes grabbed his, begging him to keep her secret.

_Warn her! Save her!_ his coyote screamed. _Tell her the secret is already out!_

His wolf, though, had its head down. Duty came above everything else. Everything.

The moment they crossed the threshold, Tyrone slammed the door shut behind them. Then he stalked to the front of the room then spun on his heel. Ty took the spot on his father's right, looking empty and defeated. On the left stood Cody and Tina, the alpha's younger offspring, their lips tightly sealed, clearly wanting no part of what was about to transpire. Beside them stood three of the pack elders, all cronies of the alpha.

Zack knew he had to speak up first, to grab the momentum from the old man. He had never asked the pack for anything, as if he'd been saving up all his wishes for now. For Rae.

He opened his mouth to start, but the old man butted in first.

"You never leave pack territory without permission. You understand me?" he jutted a finger at Rae.

Her lower lip trembled, but she threw her shoulders back and spoke out when any sane person would have withered and crawled away. But that was Rae: brave, ballsy, insistent.

"I didn't leave the territory. I was just exploring."

"You do not go anywhere without my permission. Do you understand, woman?"

Rae held her chin high as the alpha waited for her to submit, her arms crossed in defiance, though trembling.

"Not without my permission—or your mate's," Tyrone continued.

Rae froze. Ty went stiff. Zack's wolf howled inside. A long, mournful howl that echoed through his soul.

"I don't have a mate," Rae half-shouted, beating each syllable for emphasis.

"You will tonight." Tyrone jerked his thumb at Ty.

"No!" Zack growled at the same time that a choked cry popped out of Rae's throat.

"But I don't love him!"

"You'll learn to love him," old Tyrone retorted.

"But I don't want him! I want..." When her eyes shifted to Zack, everyone else's followed.

His lungs pinched as he faced her, straining to catch her next words.

_I want you,_ he thought and waited for her to echo.

But her pupils went wide and she shrank away from him, uttering one word.

"You."

It wasn't the end of a sentence. It was the beginning of an accusation. She trailed off, disgust and betrayal filling her eyes.

"You knew. You told them."

Knew the alpha's plan? Hell no! Told them her secret?

"Never!" His roar went right through the walls of the council house and out over the far corners of the ranch.

"You've done enough!" The old alpha cut him off with a stomp that made the floorboards shake. "And you," he barked at Rae. "You should be grateful!"

But her eyes were still on Zack. Her cheeks were crimson, and her lips tremble with unuttered words. Then she gave a vicious shake of her head and ran out the door.

"Ach," the old alpha grunted. "She thinks she can run."

When Ty moved to follow her, something in Zack snapped. He stepped in front of the alpha's son, blocking his way.

Ty blinked then made to weave around Zack, who sidestepped and put a hand against his friend's chest. He'd had enough. Enough of the old alpha's bullying. Enough of the easy way out. He'd never defied the alpha on anything, never asked for any favor. But it was time to take a stand. Rae was his, and his alone.

Fire began to build in Ty's eyes, and he took hold of Zack's wrist. One flick and Ty would break it.

Then again, one shove and Zack could send Ty stumbling back. They were at an impasse.

"Don't," Zack growled.

Old Tyrone pushed forward. "Get the hell out of the way! My son has a mate to catch!"

Zack couldn't hide the emotion. "She's mine!"

The air in the room trembled the way it would in the split second before the snap of a whip.

"You challenge my son?" The old alpha's face twisted into something between anger and glee.

Challenge Ty? The pack's future leader? His friend? It was the last thing Zack wanted. But when he considered his choices, he came up empty. He couldn't step aside and surrender Rae to Ty, and he would never convince the old alpha that love should preside over an advantageous match. A huntress mated to the pack alpha would strengthen the old man's bloodline with powerful offspring.

But Jesus, did the thought make him sick.

The air shifted, carrying a whisper from far, far away. _You are a powerful alpha, too. The pack would still benefit._

If Zack stood a little straighter at the thought, it did him no good. The old alpha had been waiting for an excuse to get rid of Zack for years. He would never back down now.

Ty could be reasoned with, except he was a dutiful son who would never, ever cross his father. That was his sole weakness; it always had been.

"She's mine," Zack repeated, meeting the old man's brutal gaze.

"She's his!" Old Tyrone said, reaching out for his favorite spot on the back of Zack's neck.

Zack smacked the old man's hand away, and the room went deathly quiet. "She's mine."

"A fight, then." Tyrone all but rubbed his hands together in glee. He might not have orchestrated this turn of events, but he certainly would capitalize on them. "To the death!"

Zack saw Ty's eyes slide shut. He wanted a fight as little as Zack did. But what choice did he have?

"Uh..." Cody's voice had all heads turning in his direction. "What about her?" He jabbed a thumb at the door that Rae had fled through.

The old alpha huffed. "Let her run. We don't need a tracker to catch her."

"Catch her?" The mercury in Zack's internal thermometer pushed at the limits of his self-restraint.

"She should have a choice," Tina protested.

"She made her choice when she came here!" Tyrone's bellowed, and the room went still.

Still but for the whisper in Zack's head. _She would have chosen you, if you hadn't fucked this up._

He pulled his hand away from Ty's chest. "A fight, then."

Ty's eyes locked on his. "A fight."

The old alpha snickered behind them, as always, grabbing the final word. "To the death."

# Chapter Nineteen

Images and words hammered in Rae's mind as she ran for the hills. Somehow, she had to escape.

Mate?

Ty?

Tonight?

Old Tyrone had been serious. Worse, he expected her to be grateful. If she hadn't been running full tilt, she would have kicked the ground.

Sabrina, the spoiled daughter of the Westend alpha, was the type to be grateful. Sabrina would do anything for power, just as her father Roric would do. She would even agree to a strategic match, as long as it came with prestige.

Rae stumbled as realization set in. She hadn't been careful enough in Nevada. Someone must have discovered what she was doing on her solitary nocturnal jaunts and deduced who she was, then sold the information to Roric. He, in turn, had sold her to Twin Moon pack.

Who knew her secret? The faces of possible culprits jumped through Rae's mind and only one stuck. The alpha female at Westend was a distant relative of Rae's father. Could she have known what line he had mated into?

More importantly, why? And how did Westend pack stand to benefit?

Her mind spun through the possibilities. Maybe Roric was making a sick trade of some kind, offering her in exchange for a powerful male to come to Westend and mate with Sabrina. The alpha pair had no sons, so Westend pack would need a new alpha someday. A powerful Twin Moon male mated to Sabrina would keep Roric's bloodline in power and the two packs united.

It made sense, in a warped, medieval way.

But which powerful male from Twin Moon would transfer to Nevada? Ty was destined to lead his home pack, and Zack would be deemed unacceptable. No one else matched the power of those two. Cody might, if he ever stopped playing Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up.

Rae ran on, anger fueling her step. She hated alphas! Alphas and their power plays, manipulating individuals like pawns in a chess game. They were all the same.

And Zack was no better. He'd tricked her. Betrayed her trust. He'd had his fun with her, and then delivered her straight to her doom.

She saw it all in slow motion: Zack naked and hunched over her. God, she'd let him touch—taste!—her everywhere. She'd been thinking _mate_ and _forever_ , while he'd taken advantage of easy pickings for one hot night. Then he'd handed her over to his own friend as an arranged mate. Maybe they even had some sick sharing arrangement in mind, those two.

_Tricked. Betrayed._

Any fool could have seen it coming. But no, she'd done it again—let her imagination take over and fill in one too many blanks. Zack didn't love her. Zack didn't understand her.

And Ty was no better. She thought he was a decent man, but obviously she'd misjudged him. What kind of man would take an arranged mate who didn't want him?

A power-hungry man. One who would force her to submit.

She ran faster, squinting in the dim evening light.

She didn't have it in her to be a ruling alpha's mate. Couldn't they see that? She was born to hunt. And she could never love Ty. Not when her heart was already with Zack.

Her broken heart, she corrected herself. The one that would despise him forever. He'd even had the nerve to tell her, hand on heart, _I will never be like him_ , meaning the manipulative old alpha. And she'd believed him.

She ran and ran and ran—in human form because her wolf refused to come out and aid her escape. At the same time, she tried to form some kind of getaway plan. Maybe she could get to her car and get it running. Or hitchhike. Maybe she could head back East and find an enlightened pack to grant her shelter if the Twin Moon wolves came looking.

_The East? What would we do there?_ her wolf protested. _Hunt raccoons? There's no space! Not like here._

She shoved the beast away. She would go where freedom beckoned, and if that meant the East Coast, so be it. She ran on, begging her wolf to come out and give her twice the speed. Her knowledge of Twin Moon territory was enough to know there were plenty of twists and curves on the northeast edge for her to step off ranch property soon enough.

_Just another couple of miles._ She gritted her teeth and ran on along a rough track. _Just a little farther..._

She pounded up a punishing slope and paused at the crest of a mesa. The ranch lay behind her, aglow with soft tungsten light. There was a brighter smudge where the dining hall would be, and dots surrounding it where common buildings gave way to a scattering of private homes. It always looked so welcoming at night. Even now, the deceiving effect tried to sway her resolve. But she knew better now. One of those lights came from the council house, where the old alpha had so casually announced her fate.

Where was he now? Where were the others? She watched the headlights of a single truck speed out the ranch gate, kicking up a plume of dust. It was only a question of time before they caught up with her. There would be trucks, wolves—and hell, maybe even Zack on his motorcycle, leading the chase.

She ran downslope in great leaping strides, making for the line of lights on the highway, a few miles distant. Everything hinged on her getting there. Everything.

She had just readjusted her stride to the flatter valley floor when she heard the sharp pant of wolves in pursuit.

_Come out and help, you stupid wolf!_ she yelled at her animal side. Why did it refuse?

A shadow flickered to her left. The wolves were closing in. She could have screamed at the irony. She should be the hunter, not the hunted. Especially when the wolves chasing her were not out to let simply let Mother Earth whisper in her ear.

Her lungs and legs burned with effort, and every muscle straining as she sprinted away.

An excited yip sounded from her right, answered by another immediately behind. The wolves were closing in.

She leaped over a rock and made a clean landing, but her next step found a rut, and her ankle twisted. She tumbled and bottomed out so hard, her vision lit up with a hundred points of light. By the time she scrambled to her knees, the wolves had her surrounded.

Five of them, big, dark, and awfully pleased with themselves, judging by the way their tongues swished over their fangs. Rae did her best to look menacing as she pulled herself to her feet—and promptly lurched as sparks of pain shot through her ankle.

"I am not going back!" she shouted, wondering which wolf was which. None had the smoky scent of the old alpha, but she doubted he would have joined the hunt personally. None had the brownish-black hair of Ty, nor the blond pelt of his brother, Cody.

And none was Zack. She would have spotted her lover from a mile away.

A wolf stepped forward, but a bigger one grunted, sending the first scuttling back to the ranks. Which meant that the big one with the dull brown coat was the highest ranking of the lot.

"I am not going back to Twin Moon Ranch!" she shouted, forcing herself to stand tall.

The wolf's lips curled up before he stepped forward and shifted to human form. She let out a gasp of recognition even before he spoke.

"I don't want you back on Twin Moon, Sunshine. I want you to come with me."

# Chapter Twenty

The sun was setting, and instinct urged Zack to follow Rae—north, where his inner compass was pointing most vehemently. But he walked west instead, taking jerky, mechanical steps.

He was off to a fight to the death with his closest friend, for a woman only one of them truly wanted.

He wanted to shake Ty, not that that would do any good. Ty's father's word was his command, and Ty had long since shut down the feeling part of his heart. Zack could practically hear him thinking things through. _Might as well make a match that profits the pack_.

It was wrong, even if Zack knew his best friend would treat Rae right.

_We'll fight to the death before giving her up,_ his coyote and wolf snarled as one.

He could have shaken his head and said, _Yes, it will be death_. The outcome of this fight was a foregone conclusion. He was going to die.

Oh, he could take on Ty, all right. That would make a close fight between two evenly matched wolves. Where Ty had the upper hand in sheer intensity, Zack's agility put him a nose ahead. He might even be able to work around Ty's ultimate weapon: that powerful glare that had melted many a potential opponent. Having play-wrestled Ty since he was a cub, Zack knew how to avoid those eyes.

On a good day, he would give himself a fair chance of holding his own with Ty. Hell, he might even beat the alpha's son. But no matter how well he fought, he'd never come out on top, because Ty had a secret weapon that Zack would always lack.

Family.

Everyone gathered to witness the fight knew that the minute Zack gained the upper hand, the old alpha would jump in and straighten things out.

Zack could take the old man on, easy. Would even enjoy it. He could take Ty on, though he didn't want to. But taking them both on? Maybe even three, what with Ty's brother Cody waiting to pitch in? Never.

The crazy thing was, Ty and Cody were good, honest men. But blood called to blood, and their father would do whatever it took to keep his offspring on top.

Zack ducked between the second and third poles of a fence, heading for the hollow between the old machine shop and a toolshed that was already flooded with artificial light. The place had seen its share of deadly fights back when Tyrone was rising to power, but it hadn't hosted any action for decades now. Zack squinted against the lights, swallowing his bitterness. It hadn't taken the old coot more than five minutes to turn this fight into an event. And Zack, of course, was being ushered to the less favorable side of the ring, where the lights blazed directly into his eyes.

He tried drowning out the noise of the gathering crowd. Old Tyrone was front and center, hammering him with a blazing glare. Ty's siblings were there, too: his raven-haired sister, Tina, and couldn't-be-more-opposite brother, Cody. They stood a conspicuously long step away from their father, eyes cast down to avoid the ugly truth. The nervous knot of Tina's fingers told him that their futures were as closely tied to this fight as Ty's. Today, Ty's mate would be forced on him; tomorrow, it might be Tina. And as for Cody, well, even the swinging bachelor couldn't be far behind.

Family. Ty had his back to a mountain; Zack had his to an abyss.

"Get him!" Tyrone barked at his son.

Zack saw Ty's eyes tighten in a wince. Family had its pluses and minuses.

Making no move to start, he waited for Ty. This fight wasn't about winning; it was about buying Rae time to escape, hopefully to a pack where the alpha let her choose her own mate.

He swallowed the thought like a bitter pill. Rae with another man? She was his, and he was hers. They were destined for each other.

Except destiny had its hiccups, just like life. He took in the scene around him—Ty's clenched fists, the old alpha's narrowed eyes, the spectators behind him—and knew it was not to be. He and Rae had already had all the time fate had allotted them.

God, it hurt to consider that. And the way she'd looked at him with accusing eyes—that was even worse. Even if he won this impossible fight, Rae would never take him back.

Ty stepped forward, looking darker and more haunted than ever. Zack circled, trying for a better angle against the glare—and not much else. He had to drag this out, which meant fighting long and hard, and possibly wounding Ty enough to keep him from pursuing Rae. The thought sickened him. Why was he even fighting his friend?

_For Rae,_ his wolf snarled as Ty unleashed his first blow.

Half the crowd went into a frenzy. The other half hushed as Zack ducked and swung back, landing a glancing blow off Ty's shoulder.

"Come on, Ty!" a shrill voice cried. Audrey, the ranch playgirl, knew how to side with the winning team.

They shuffled around each other, knuckles raised, chins low, looking for an opening. Ty came in with a bolo punch then followed up with a series of lackluster jabs Zack could parry with ease. The vocal part of the crowd cheered in excitement. Old Tyrone, of course, was barking for blood.

"Get him!"

"Why don't they shift?" someone in the crowd cried.

Zack knew as well as Ty why not. Fighting with their fists kept the damage to a minimum. Neither one of them had his heart in this fight. Anyone could see it in the way they traded blows any quick-witted kid could have avoided.

Ty advanced with a quick combination that Zack had perfectly under control until his footwork brought him in a direct line with old Tyrone's sights. The man's laser-like glare distracted him long enough to let Ty land a punch on his chin. Zack stumbled back, and a gasp went out from the crowd.

"Follow up, follow up!" Old Tyrone yelled.

Ty lumbered slowly forward, giving Zack ample time to get his bearings before he came in with an easy uppercut. Zack smacked it away and followed with a very wide hook.

That's when he saw it: the wrinkle in the corner of Ty's mouth. Not quite a smile, but a smile all the same.

_He's doing it, too._ Ty was pulling his punches, throwing pitty-pat blows that wouldn't hurt a kid. Because Rae's escape, he realized, suited Ty, too.

He hid a smile and went back at Ty with a haymaker guaranteed to go wide.

_Perfect,_ his coyote snickered, trying to make the punch look good.

Perfect except for one thing, as he realized when the fight wore on. It was impossible to put two alpha wolves in one ring and expect them to play nice. Bit by bit, he felt his wolf creeping toward the surface, in the same way that Ty's eyes grew more intent. So much that Zack took to avoiding them altogether, just in case. With every blow, every parry, every grunt from the audience, the fight escalated.

Showtime was over. Soon, he would be fighting for his life. Rae's life, too. She would die before giving in to a forced mate.

Ty's blows came faster and in more effective combinations. Eyes stinging with the salt of his own sweat, Zack did his best to leash his inner beast. But Ty came at him harder and harder, and Zack was forced to put more power behind his own punches. When Ty got in a good uppercut, Zack responded with a heavy cross that pulled a vicious growl out of Ty. Zack stepped left, looking for an opening, while Ty went right, his shoulders blocking the floodlights. But then Ty slid farther, and a beam of light pierced Zack's eyes. He threw a hand up against it, blotting out the blinding combination of floodlights and the old alpha's glare.

There was a mighty crack, and Zack had the vague feeling it might have been his jaw. At least, that's as much as his mind registered as he flew sprawling across the hard-packed dirt. When he could process something other than the pain shooting through his jaw, it was an inky sky with tiny points of lights, soothing and soft.

_Beautiful. Like jewels in the sky._

He focused there, trying to blink away the pain. A hulking form shifted into view above him: Ty, leaning in to assess the impact of that last blow.

The word echoed in Zack's mind, bringing out a crazy smile. There'd been an impact, all right. Rae. The woman had been like a meteor in his life, rocketing in and changing everything.

He could have howled, thinking of her gone, but in that off-balance moment, his coyote got the better of him and started laughing. His gurgling chuckle turned into a throaty laugh that built until his jaw and ribs ached.

He flopped back into the warm earth and took in the scene around him, feeling strangely removed from it all. The lights, the barn, his packmates. A tiny and strangely absurd universe. Ty frowned, and his eyes went from killer to confused.

_What the hell is so funny?_ Ty's voice thundered in his mind.

_Try two friends fighting over a woman one of them doesn't want and the other one wants too much._

Zack laughed until tears blurred his sight. The bubbling laughter grew louder and deeper, as if a bass drum had just seen the humor in this strange scene and decided to rumble along. When he paused to suck in a breath, the sound went on, and he realized it was Ty, leaning over with his hands on his knees, either from a laughter-induced shake or the exhaustion of the fight. Maybe a little of both.

A soft, scolding voice from the past echoed in his ears: old Aunt Jean, the former schoolteacher and surrogate mother to underdogs like him. What would she say to them now?

_Two little ragamuffins, laughing in the dirt._

The recollection only made Zack laugh harder. They couldn't have been more than eight when she said it, that day on the schoolhouse grounds. And that had to have been the first and last time anyone had associated the word _muffin_ with him or Ty.

He laughed until Ty reached a hand down to haul him to his feet—whether to restart the fight or dust his ass off and head for a bar, Zack wasn't sure. He gripped the rough hand as if to stand, but then yanked Ty down beside him. There was a heavy moment of silence before their laughter picked up where it had left off, and for a minute, they really were a couple of ragamuffins in the dirt.

They spent a few minutes like that, the two of them, while their mute packmates looked on, unsure how to react. Then Zack took a deep breath and threw an arm out to tap Ty.

"Oof," the alpha's son let out, biting back a grimace. "That rib's broken, man."

Zack rolled to all fours, slowly, painfully, then sat back on his haunches and gingerly touched his chin. "So's my fucking jaw."

"How broken?" Ty challenged, and Zack grinned. It was another line from the past, one they'd used back in their play-fight days.

Except this was no play-fight. This was real, and Rae was out there. He locked eyes with Ty, suddenly going quiet.

_Rae. Mate,_ his wolf growled. _Mine._

Ty's eyes flared, and Zack wondered how this night might end. Would their friendship be forever ruined or renewed?

A slow second later, Ty gave a curt nod and accepted Zack's hand up.

"What the hell is this?" Old Tyrone barked.

Zack stiffened, but Ty jerked his hand northeast, in the direction Rae had gone.

"Got a mate to catch," Ty declared in a quiet but deadly voice. " _His_ mate," he added, jabbing his chin toward Zack.

A moment later, they were both in wolf form, sprinting into the night.

# Chapter Twenty-One

Much as Rae blinked, she couldn't change the reality confronting her. Jed was back. And this time, with reinforcements: four strapping young wolves who looked hungry for action—any kind of action they could get.

"Sunshine, you knew I wouldn't let that jackass take you away. Now, come home with me." Jed's voice went from sugar sweet to acid sharp on the final words.

Home? She leaned toward the ranch, then forced herself ramrod straight. There was no home for her. Not with Jed, not with Zack, not with any man. She nearly barked it out but held her tongue, not wanting to set Jed off.

He was crazy. She could see it in his eyes. Crazy and utterly convinced of himself—a dangerous combination. Forget about reasoning with him. So what if she wasn't interested in him and never had been? So what if she had her own dream? That was all negligible in the madman's master plan. Jed wanted a mate, a pack, and supreme rule. And he would stop at nothing to get it.

"Sunshine, you okay?" His eyes shone in the dark. "I should never have let that asshole take you away. But I wasn't ready to take on the whole pack, so I had to let you go. For your own sake. But you see?" He broke out in a proud grin, waiting for her approval. "I came back for you, just like I promised."

Her stomach twisted and rolled. He'd promised, all right.

Jed would never stop coming after her. He would never give up. Coming from another man, that might have been touching. With Jed, it was terrifying.

Instinct told her to flee, a plan her wolf was all on board with.

_Let me out! Let me run!_

Although she'd been wishing for her wolf's help, she reined the urge in. Running would only set off the chase instinct in these wolves. From the looks of it, Jed had assembled a gang of young males cast out from their home packs. They would have been kicked out when they were still immature and manageable. Now, though, they had filled out—like Jed—becoming formidable fighting machines. Jed's vision of taking over Colorado's North Ridge pack might be less suicidal than it first seemed. She could see it now: Jed had probably promised each of these vigilantes leading roles in his new pack if they helped him overthrow Greer, the pack alpha. Even for rogues, the call of a pack was strong.

So was the call of the chase. If she ran, they would follow, bring her down, and... She didn't want to think about the rest.

Jed, though, seemed excited about exactly that. "Hey, Sunshine. Why don't we play? You run, we chase." The wolf to Jed's left licked his chops, and Jed grinned. "Where I come from, brother, we share our prizes. She's mine, but if you're good, you can have a taste, too."

Rae's stomach folded in on itself. Jed had learned one trick too many from Greer, that greedy brute. Neither of them was half the man Zack was.

Then she cursed herself. Why did Zack pop back into her mind? She had banished the thought of him. Or tried to, anyway. Zack had betrayed her. He was as bad as the rest.

She could only count on herself. So, how was she going to get out of this mess?

_Run,_ the wolf said.

She tested her ankle, finding the pain gone. Either it was only a twist, or her accelerated shifter healing had already gone to work. The ankle would hold if she ran.

_Fight,_ her heart cried.

_Talk,_ logic urged.

"Look, Jed, we need to think this through. Are you really going to take on Greer with four wolves?"

He grinned, his teeth flashing white in the night. "Who says I only got four?"

Her heart sank as three more wolves slunk out of the shadows. Seven wolves—eight, with Jed.

Despair seeped into her shoulders, and she wondered if she should give in and hope Jed took it easy on her. Maybe later, she would get some chance to escape.

"I know, I know," Jed crowed. "You're impressed. Old Jed is finally moving up in the world. And you, Sunshine, are climbing right along with me. So, get moving! We got our trucks parked a couple of miles away."

"Right, climbing," she murmured.

_More like descending the steps to hell._ Her mind spun, looking for some way out. The minute she let these wolves close ranks around her, her chances of escape were nil. It was eight to one, with more arriving any time because the Twin Moon wolves were after her too. Soon.

Her heart jumped on the idea. How soon?

The Twin Moon wolves would fight these rogues off, which would suit her just fine. But then what?

Before she had the chance to think out a plan, her wolf tore out of her skin and started to run in the direction of the ranch.

In an instant, they were after her—eight baying wolves already lost in the thrill of the chase. She could make out Jed's scratchy tenor among the others. He sounded delighted with his mate's cooperation in a bit of fun.

Well, she didn't want any part of it. Her legs pounded the dirt as her eyes picked out the best path through the scrub ahead. Jed and his gang were running for sport, but she was running for her life, and that kept her three lengths ahead.

For now, at least. She hammered up the slope she'd come flying down earlier. It was hard going over loose scree and rocks, but she made the most of her lead, kicking back all the loose material she could to hinder those in pursuit. One wolf, though, was making steady progress up a parallel route and slowly closing in. The crazed gleam in his eyes and curled lips identified it as Jed in wolf form. His claws scuttled over rock as he launched himself in her direction. It was only a burst of speed, together with lucky footing, that allowed her to jump clear.

_Whoosh!_ His outstretched paws swept the air an inches behind her.

Jed cursed into her mind as he fell back into the rhythm of running.

Rae's muscles wailed with each desperate step she heaved up the final yards of the slope.

_Close—so close!_

The flat edge of the mesa was right there. Once she reached it, she would gain precious seconds if freewheeled down the other side before Jed followed. And after that?

Damned if she knew.

Forcing her screaming muscles to obey, she threw herself over the rise—and immediately dove out of the way of two wolves hurtling up from the opposite direction. One was blackish-brown, darker than night. The other, a familiar deep brown.

Zack. A wave of relief came over her even as she tumbled. Zack would help.

Her body ground to a halt against a boulder, but the impact hurt less than the thought that followed.

Zack had betrayed her. She could never trust him again.

Behind her, the wolves crashed together, and the night exploded with sound. She had never heard roars so fierce and outraged, not even back in Colorado, where fights were a regular occurrence.

_Run!_ Instinct screamed in Rae's ear as she rolled to her feet. _Let them fight while we get away._

Three shaky steps later, she petered to a stop.

Zack and Ty had come for her. She couldn't run and leave them to fight her fight, could she?

On the other hand, they hadn't really come to help. They had only come to claim her for their pack. Whichever side won the skirmish splitting the night behind her, it would all be the same in the end. She would be nothing more than the spoil of war.

_Zack is not the same!_ her wolf insisted, shuffling around so that she faced the fight.

One trembling step after another, she crept toward the action at the crest of the hill, fighting herself every inch of the way.

Zack and the other wolf—it had to be Ty, given his coloring and the intensity of his glare—were firmly planted on a stage-like rise of the mesa, taking lethal swipes at the wolves attacking them. The two of them were an army to themselves, so big and angry that the air around them wavered. One of Jed's gang was already down while another dragged himself out of the melee. The others jumped in and out of range. Zack roared in an outraged tone that she would never have imagined coming from him. He batted away an attacking wolf with one broad paw and followed up with jaws that flashed white.

The net time they flashed, they were red. Rae gulped. Three down, five to go. Could Zack and Ty do it?

Her eyes swept over the battlefield and counted again. Four—she could only find four other wolves. Where was the other?

The air pressure by her left ear squeezed and shook, and she spun to find Jed, leaping in to force her back against a boulder. He'd snuck around the others and cut in around the rear.

_Come on, Sunshine._ He smiled. _Let's go._

Even at the height of the fight, the man was grinning. She could feel him forcing his words into her mind.

_You and me, Sunshine. Just like old times._

# Chapter Twenty-Two

Rae stepped back. _There were no old times._

Jed's growl became a snarl. _Come now, Sunshine._

_I will never come with you!_

With one angry swipe, her claws ripped his shoulder, opening four parallel gashes just deep enough to stoke his anger.

The growl turned low and deadly as Jed faced her, his tail slashing the air like a saber. _You are mine._

He lunged for her, and she sprang away, scrambling to a landing. Jed paused, wild-eyed and bristling as she bared her fangs.

_I love it when women play with me,_ he chuckled.

She wondered how many women had suffered at his hands. How much pain would he inflict on her if he won? The fact that Jed wouldn't kill her was a small consolation.

_You have a twisted definition of play,_ she growled, backing toward a boulder. She needed some point of orientation in this crazy night. Jed stood before her and at least another half-dozen wolves battled just out of sight at her back.

_You are sick._ She all but spat the words out.

His grin bent into a frown. _And you are mine._

_I will never be yours!_

She'd barely formed the words when he leaped. Dodging at the last minute, she hoped he would crash into the rock. But Jed twisted and roared, catching her haunches in his front paws. His claws scraped along her ribs, trying to get a grip.

_All mine, Sunshine,_ he growled. The threat drummed from her ears to her desperately calculating mind.

She wanted to scream for a miracle burst of adrenaline to heave the brute away. She tried dragging herself free, but Jed was too heavy. With a push and a grunt, he worked himself higher, shouldering her into a roll. An instant later, he had her pinned and clacked his ivory fangs in her face.

_All I have to do is bite, bitch, and you will finally understand that you are mine._

He lowered his muzzle, going for her neck. She could feel the sappy drip of saliva work its way through her ruff even before his teeth scraped along her skin. Either he'd gut her there and then, or bite clean and deep in a mating bite that would bind her permanently to him. Either way, there would be no escape.

She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and pretend the horror of it away, but she forced herself to act. Even death would be better than a lifetime of abuse. With a mighty kick, she raked the claws of her back leg along his belly, drawing blood.

_Bitch!_

Jed pulled back to study the wound. When he looked up again, his eyes were sheer malice, and she knew it was the end. She opened her jaws in defense when he came back at her, but she knew she couldn't win. He slammed her back onto the earth, knocking the wind out of her lungs, and took up position over her throat.

_Mine!_ His hot breath burned her skin.

Rae writhed in a last act of defense before the inevitable bite. Behind Jed's looming body were the stars. So beautiful, so far away. She closed her eyes.

There was an explosion of sound, a tussle, and suddenly, Jed's weight was lifted away. Instinct brought Rae to her feet, and she would have fled if she hadn't been disoriented by the eruption of sound and shape before her.

Jed and another wolf were wrestling on the south side of the ridge, just steps away from her. His opponent was a mighty wolf with a satchel-brown, dun-tinted coat. Half coyote, half wolf.

Zack. Rae knew her heart was foolish to swell at the sight of him, but it did anyway.

Jed launched a counterattack, howling his rage, and there was the sickening rip of flesh as Zack staggered. A moment later, he battled back in a burst of energy that drove Jed to his haunches. The wolves scrambled for each other's throats, boxing and slashing until they broke apart, then crashed together again.

It was a fight of finesse and calculated blows versus raw power, each wolf briefly gaining the upper hand before the other wrestled it away. Jed rolled, using his greater weight to take Zack with him, and Rae let out a scream. _No!_

Zack's face lit briefly before folding into a snarl, and he pushed Jed back with strength he shouldn't have possessed. Then he was on top of Jed, jaws held wide.

It was over in a splash of crimson and a garbled cry. Rae swayed on her feet, not sure if it was relief or fear that was pounding through her veins. Jed was dead.

That moment was her chance at escape, but she found herself rooted to the spot, eyes closed, waiting.

_Waiting for what?_ part of her mind screamed.

She forced her eyes open at the sound of footsteps and a growl. Zack's power preceded him like a battering ram, and she found herself flopping belly-up in submission. A moment later, he was hovering over her throat, just as Jed had, with his clover green eyes wide and hungry.

Zack's scent hit her, and for a moment, she saw everything that could have been. A home. A future. A good life with a good man.

A betrayal.

She closed her eyes, wishing the past three weeks away. There was a time when she'd trusted the man inside that wolf, even wanted him. And dammit, part of her still wanted Zack. But she would never submit to being claimed against her will.

Every muscle in her tensed as she twisted her head away, gasping for one final breath of freedom. Zack's breath heated her neck, and behind him, the darkness of the night pressed in.

Ten seconds passed, and then ten more, and still neither of them moved. She was vaguely aware that the fight between the other wolves and Ty had settled into ponderous silence, but that barely mattered now. She kept her eyes shut tightly, waiting for the end.

But it was a gentle hand, not pointed fangs, that ran over her throat. A human hand that traced a light line along her neck. She blinked and found that Zack had shifted. Somehow, he'd taken her with him, because her wolf had slipped away, leaving the woman pinned under the man. A man hanging his head so low, his hair brushed her chest. She froze, trying not to breathe.

Zack made a choked sound then slowly backed off her and lurched to his feet, heaving her up with one hand.

She swayed. Zack's face was a mess of blood and indecision. When he reached out for her, she jumped out of reach.

Shame shadowed his face. _I didn't want any of this to happen. I only wanted you._

Rae didn't know if she'd read the words in his face or in his mind, but there they were.

_I only wanted you._

Her eyes stung with tears she refused to set free. The two of them might have remained standing there all night like two sad statues had an engine not sounded in the distance. Ty came over the ridge, still in wolf form and red around the muzzle. His ears pointed toward the sound. Behind him, all was silent, telling Rae Jed's rogues were vanquished.

The wolves threatening to steal her soul were gone, only to be replaced by two others who threatened the same thing—and a rapidly approaching third. Would it be the old alpha? Would Ty claim her now? Or would he drag her back to the ranch and force himself upon her right there?

A motorcycle roared up: Zack's Harley, with another man in the seat. It was Cody, Ty's younger brother, looking uncharacteristically grim.

He nodded to Rae in a curt greeting then quickly yanked his eyes from her naked body to Zack. The four of them stood there in silence even after Ty blurred back to his human form.

She waited. Surely Ty would make some proclamation now. After all, he was the pack's future alpha.

But it was Zack who moved first, stepping to the motorcycle and pulling the key from the ignition. The warrior in him was back; she could see it in the square of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw. But he was a weary warrior who'd lost sight of his cause. With a grunt and a jerk of the chin, he ordered the other men to back away.

To her utter surprise, Ty and Cody only hesitated briefly before complying. For that moment, at least, they ceded rank to their packmate.

When Zack faced her, his face was limp in defeat even though he stood on the scene of a triumph. He mimicked a toss then threw Rae the key. It came arcing to her in slow motion, as if the world was decelerating on its axis to give her a chance to think.

Zack was giving her his bike.

Zack was giving her her freedom.

Zack was letting her go.

She reached out and fisted the key in one hand. Freedom. Her emotions swung somewhere between elation and grief.

Zack leaned over the bike and pulled something from the saddlebag then laid it across the seat. He stepped aside, holding his hands up as if she had a gun pointed his way.

"You're letting me go? Why?" Her voice had never sounded so raspy and unsure.

His lips moved, though no sound came out. It was his eyes that said it. _Because I love you._

A memory said the rest. _You know, that corny line. If you love something, set it free._

She looked out beyond the desert to the pulsing lights of the highway. She was free to go anywhere she wanted, to forge her own way.

Her heart thumped. The only place she wanted to be was here, with him.

Then she gave herself a stubborn shake and remembered: she was supposed to head far, far away. East—that had been her plan. The outside world and her future, lay just over there, where headlights were streaking by. Meanwhile, Zack stood nearby, watching her as if she had her finger on a grenade.

With a gulp, Rae made her decision. So what if it made her miserable for the rest of her life? Snatching the flannel shirt Zack had laid out on the motorcycle, she buttoned it hastily over her torso. It smelled just like him, dammit, fresh and musky and true, as if all the power and the harsh beauty of the desert had been woven into the fibers. The shirt was just long enough that she wouldn't be arrested for indecent exposure once she got on the highway and made her escape. From there—well, she'd wing it.

With every muscle screaming in protest, she threw a leg over the motorcycle, kicked the engine to life, and roared off, forcing herself to look forward, not back.

_No looking back,_ she ordered herself. _Too late now._

_Rae._ Zack's whisper carried on the wind, half plea and all heart.

She gunned the engine and rode on, tears streaming down her face.

# Chapter Twenty-Three

Zack forced himself to watch his mate speed down the bumpy trail and across the flats, the sound of a receding engine all too familiar to his ears. He stood long and utterly silent, following the single light until it paused on the edge of the highway, then merged and was swallowed up by the rest.

Gone. Rae was gone.

This is where his sense of honor got him: on the wrong end of a dust cloud, with his destined mate speeding out of his life. He vaguely registered a faint sound and wondered if it was his heart shattering, muted by the flesh and fibers in between.

Well, let it. He didn't need that particular organ any more.

He stood there a long time after Ty and Cody left, staring into emptiness. Then he walked back to the ranch, his step as slow as it had been fast and frantic on the way out. There was nothing to run back to. Just an empty cabin, his packmates, and an angry alpha. Not that the latter bothered him much. The fight against Ty had been a draw, but the confrontation with old Tyrone had been a clear win.

Respect. He'd won that, even if it was a small consolation for losing his mate. But life was what it was: cruel. Twisted. Unfair. He climbed the stairs to his porch and settled into his chair, feeling a thousand years older and none too wiser. Just emptier inside.

The aches in his body faded gradually, all but the one that mattered most.

Over the next two weeks, Zack fell back into his usual routine: doing odd jobs on the ranch by day, sitting on his porch at night, watching the stars arc slowly across the sky. Wondering if Rae was watching them too. The fact that there'd been a dearth of tracking assignments was just fine with him, because heading out to track would remind him too much of that magical night they had shared.

Spring was coming, even in the absence of Rae's scent. Paintbrush erupted in startling orange-red. Desert marigolds waved from the ends of their stalks. Hummingbirds zipped merrily to and fro. But scenes that should have sung with promise and new beginnings only cried regret in his ears.

Days stumbled along, and nights dragged, over and over, right up to the night of the new moon. Rae would be out hunting, he figured, a swift shadow in the night. She was out there somewhere. He sat, hushed, wondering if he'd hear Mother Earth's whisper if he tried hard enough.

He strained his ears until most of the night was gone, dreaming of his bike, the open road, and two tight arms around his waist. He dreamed it so desperately that when his chin fell on his chest, jerking him awake, the sound of a motorcycle engine still rumbled in his ears.

He creaked to his feet and turned for the screen door, resigning himself to another sleepless night. Then he paused at the threshold, because the engine noise was still there. Growing steadily louder, in fact, until he heard 750 familiar cc's come up the drive. He braced both hands against the doorframe and tucked his chin, keeping his back to the road. If this was his imagination coming to torture him again, he wasn't going to play along.

The engine purred right up to the porch and stood humming quietly for half a minute before the driver shut it off. Then it was only the crickets, the night owl, and his desperately fragile hope, dangling in the desert air.

Rae's legs were shaky as she climbed the steps to Zack's cabin, and it wasn't due to the miles in her weary bones. The past weeks were a blur now: the mountains, the truck stops, the tears. Every bump in every mile of road had rattled through the handlebars, into her arms, and through her body until her teeth ached as much as her shoulders or back.

None of it held a candle to the ache in her heart, though, so she had driven on and on out of sheer determination—or stubborn stupidity. She'd driven past the barrens of Texas, past an ocean of bluegrass in Tennessee, and on to the tidewaters of Maryland until she saw the sun rise over the ocean. She'd nearly driven off the end of the rickety dock she'd stopped on, not caring what kind of end she'd meet. Because all those miles had taught her one thing: that the world was just as bleak and twice as lonely as it had been back in the desert.

She had checked in to a cheap motel and fell into a forty-eight-hour delirium of sleep, figuring it would do her good. But crawling out the other side of that tunnel was even harder, because where was the light?

There was no light, not without him.

She hated herself for even thinking it. She was supposed to be independent and strong, dammit. And Zack had set her up only to let her take a mighty fall.

Or had he?

_He saved us,_ her wolf insisted. _He loves us._

_Love or lust? Do alphas even know the difference?_

Her wolf growled. _This one does. He fought for us._

She tried ignoring the flutter in her stomach. _He fought so he could claim us. Make us his. Take our freedom._

The wolf raged at the suggestion. _He let us go. He gave us this thing you call freedom. And what good is it?_

_Freedom is everything._

_Freedom is alone._

Rae bowed her head to the truth. She didn't like this new situation any better than her inner wolf did. But sooner or later, she told herself, she'd find a new pack. The right pack.

Her wolf whined. _We found the right pack back at Twin Moon Ranch._

She pictured the high-altitude desert of central Arizona. The vast landscape—harsh yet beautiful at the same time. The tidy settlement, the friendly faces, and the meandering path to the cabin on the periphery. That's where her thoughts led every time she let them wander. To a cabin, a porch, and a man.

An honest man, or a liar?

There was a fine line between trust and treason, that was for sure. But beyond that? She didn't know whether to believe her mind or her heart.

She had considered the question for two pensive weeks, wandering to the shoreline each night, trying to find some shimmer of truth in the moonlight rippling over the waves. She'd tossed pebbles into the water and listened for the splashes. It wouldn't be long before the next new moon, and then where would she be?

A shadow flitted overhead—an osprey soaring effortlessly. Wings outstretched, it leaned into a wide turn and circled around, honing in on its prey. Rae watched, glad to distract herself from her thoughts. The osprey caught an updraft, soared effortlessly upward, then wheeled. Looking. Waiting. Calculating.

A second shadow joined the first. The osprey's mate? Rae's eyes narrowed and blurred until she didn't see a bird but a wolf, loping along in support of its mate.

Then the memories came back in a flood. The night of the pronghorn hunt had been magic—every moment of it. For the first time in her life, everything had clicked perfectly: the new moon, the prey, the place. The man at her side. Her lips curled into a smile just at the memory of it, but then fell into a frown, remembering what came next.

Joy.

Anger.

Betrayal.

The gutted expression on Zack's face.

For the hundredth time, she replayed the memory of him tossing the keys in slow motion, giving her freedom. Why?

The first osprey dipped and curved, while the second remained watchful, high above.

_If you love something, set it free._

There was a second part to that corny old line, she remembered.

_If it loves you, it will come back. If it doesn't..._

Her heart skipped a beat, and she forced herself to rewind and picture it all over again: the mesa, the motorcycle, the man. One who faced up to his own shortcomings and took his punishment on the chin.

Was she woman enough to do the same?

Because Zack hadn't betrayed her. Old Tyrone's announcement that she was to mate with Ty had hit Zack as hard as it hit her. His gutted expressed had said as much, only she hadn't been paying attention at the time. Zack hadn't suspected what the pack alpha was planning. He wasn't bringing her to mate with someone else. He'd just been bringing her home.

He loved her. And he'd risked everything for her—his life, his honor, his standing in the pack.

And what had she done for him?

Shame flooded her, and a moment later, resolve. Then she was on her feet, scrambling for the bike, fumbling with the key.

_Drive slowly_ , the human part of her mind said. _Be sure._

Her wolf snarled. _I'm sure. Just get me back to my mate!_

The closer she got, the faster she drove, desperate to fast-forward herself back into his arms. Zack—an imperfect man, but her perfect mate.

Sixty-plus hours and four brief stops later, she crossed the Arizona state line. Even then, it was another couple of hours before she reached the dirt road branching off the highway and to the ranch. As she bumped over it, doubt spread in a heavy layer over her exhaustion. Would she even be allowed back on the ranch? She had defied the alpha and rejected his son. She had turned her back on Zack. Would he even forgive her? Would he want her?

The questions hounded her right up to the moment when she climbed the porch, her legs trembling from more than just road fatigue. But each step made her feel more and more certain, as if destiny was nodding her on.

She stepped to within a breath of Zack's back and stood there, soaking in his scent.

Zack kept his back turned as the driver took a long time getting off that bike, and an even longer time climbing the three creaky steps to his porch. An eternity passed before Rae slipped slowly into his space, like he was a spooked colt liable to bolt at any minute. His skin tingled even before a warm hand eased his fingers open and pressed something thin and edgy inside.

A key. The key to his Harley.

"Thanks for the loan," Rae said. She spoke like she'd just been down the road and back, but he caught the waver in her voice.

He talked toward the doorframe, forcing the words off his clunky tongue. "Planning on getting a new ride?"

The air moved as she shook her head, and the tip of her nose brushed his neck. She was that close, and boy, did that feel good.

"I'm planning on staying put, if I'm allowed."

He exhaled, waiting for his heart to restart. Allowed? He'd make damn sure Rae never wanted to leave.

"Shouldn't you be out hunting?" He tried to sound unaffected, but he could barely breathe.

She nodded into his back and snuck her arms around him just as she'd done on his bike, an eternity ago.

"Different kind of hunt tonight," she whispered.

_Th-thump, th-thump._ So his heart did work, after all.

"What kind of hunt is that?"

A finger brushed against his cheek. "Man hunt."

His fingers curled around hers. "You think he's going to come willingly?

"I think he can be convinced."

That's when something in him cracked. He spun and pulled her tight, squeezing to make it clear he didn't plan to ever let go.

"I'm sorry I left," Rae croaked from where she was wrapped around his neck. Her arms clenched and reclenched to hug him from a dozen different angles.

He buried his nose in her hair, wondering if anything had ever felt this good. For once, someone was speeding into his life instead of speeding out.

"I'm sorry for everything else."

She shook her head. "No more sorry."

"No more goodbyes."

"No more anything but this," she agreed.

They hung on to each other like a couple of castaways still holding tight hours after being washed ashore. With every inhale, Zack felt stronger, surer. A feeling a man like Ty must have all the time—that he had a mountain at his back, and not an abyss. He had love. More than that, he had pure, unconditional love. Something Ty might never have, for all his unspoken privilege.

"Hey," Rae whispered in his ear. "Listen."

Zack hugged her closer instead of lifting his head, but even wrapped tightly in that spring-scented cloak she seemed to wear, he heard it. A whisper in the air, faint as filtered starlight from a thousand light-years away. A whisper that carried images, not words, forming a scene in his mind.

There was a little cabin, a crackling fireplace, and a bowl of untouched popcorn. A couple of carefree lovers settled back on a thick rug, their legs intertwined. A cabin very much like his, with a fresh paint job, a neat stack of firewood, and a bow leaning against one corner of the porch.

_There,_ the image seemed to be saying. _That is where you must go._

When Rae's breath caught, he knew she saw it too.

"But we're already here," he murmured.

"There's place," she said, letting her lips stroll over his cheek, "And there's time."

He replayed the winter scene in his mind. Maybe they did need a little time to find their rhythm. With spring just breaking over the desert now, they were three seasons away from letting that scene play out in real time. Plenty of time to settle in together and to finish those projects on the house.

Rae smiled into his cheek, and her thoughts projected into his mind. _Time to hunt._

_To track,_ he added, with the coyote and wolf nodding along.

_To love,_ Rae finished. _To mate._

# Epilogue

### Three months & three new moons later...

Rae sat on the top step of the porch, gazing out over the desert as she waited for her mate to come home.

Home. She breathed it all in, from the tiniest speck of yellow flower to the banded hills that showcased millions of years of Mother Earth's labor. A good place for a hunter, with miles to roam on new moon nights and a ranch to help operate in the weeks in between. All that with a man she could call her mate.

Her heart bubbled as it always did when Zack appeared around the bend, his tall frame silhouetted against the blaze of the setting sun. If only she could see his face. Would it be etched with worry or creased in a smile?

"So, how did it go?" she asked when her mate was three steps away.

He sighed and sat beside her, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

"It went."

She wrapped her hand around his thigh and snuggled in close. His warmth poured into her, as it always did when they touched.

"Well, what did they say?"

Zack snorted. "Doesn't matter what they said. What mattered was what I said."

She could picture it perfectly—her man standing up to the leaders of two packs: old Tyrone of Twin Moon Ranch and Roric of Westend pack, who'd come over from Nevada to sort out what Tyrone called _This mess._

_Would have been nice to see that in person,_ her wolf grinned.

She shrugged the thought away. Much as she'd tried to work up the nerve to attend the meeting in the council house, she just didn't have it in her. She needed her energy for tonight's hunt, and spending it listening to a couple of old geezers blow steam wouldn't help.

She shivered and tugged Zack's arm tighter around her, thinking how close she'd come to another kind of life. If she had been Ty's mate, she would have been in for a lifetime of meetings, obligations, and compromises. If she had have been forced to be Jed's mate, she would have been in for a lifetime of abuse. Either way, a lifetime of regret.

"Hey," Zack murmured. "You okay?"

She touched her forehead to his shoulder and breathed him in. "Yep. I'm okay."

In truth, she was more than okay. A lifetime of love and hope stretched before her. She took several deep breaths, processing her luck.

"So what did you say?" she finally prompted.

"Well, first Roric ranted about broken contracts, pack alliances, and a lot of other nonsense."

She could picture that. Easily.

"Until I told him you're not a clause in a contract or a puppet in some game," Zack said, his voice rasping just a bit.

Her wolf swelled with pride, all but purring over her fine choice in a mate.

"And what did he do?"

Zack snorted. "He shut up."

Now that, she would have liked to see. "What about old Tyrone?"

He chuckled. "You should have seen Ty stand him down."

"How? What did Ty say?"

Zack threaded his fingers through hers. "He didn't say anything. He just stared and stared until the old man grumbled and looked away."

That glare was easy to picture. A damn good thing she'd never been on the receiving end of it.

"And that was it?"

Zack nodded in satisfaction. "That was it."

She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Her mate had done her proud—again.

"Not like they could do anything about us now," Zack chuckled, fingering the faint mark on her neck.

She tingled at his touch and the hot memories they stirred. That had been quite a night—their first full moon together. They'd run, played, then come back to the cabin and made love until the sun came up.

_Oh, much longer than that,_ her wolf corrected with a lusty growl.

She blushed in spite of herself, remembering some of their antics. Somewhere along the line, round three had gone from warm and sweet to hot and hard. She could still see the glow in Zack's eyes when he went down for the mating bite. She could still feel herself rising to meet it because she knew what kind of possessiveness it would bring. And she could still see the happy glaze in his eyes after she'd reciprocated. They were one now, mated for life.

Zack's mind, though, must have still been on the meeting.

"Ty did good," he murmured.

"You did good. Both of you. It's high time those old alphas had someone stand up to them."

A changing of the guard was long overdue. Someday, change might even come to Greer's brutal regime at North Ridge pack.

In any case, change was coming to Twin Moon Ranch, her new home. With Ty stepping up to the plate and Zack there to support him, the future looked brighter than ever.

A corner of her heart squeezed and sighed. "Do you think Ty will ever find his mate?"

Zack considered the question long enough for Rae to sense his doubt. She'd heard what happened years ago—how Ty had nearly found then lost his mate. Even if his thick hide didn't show it, the scars were there, and she doubted that any of the local girls had it in them to heal those wounds.

"Maybe she'll find him." Zack's whisper carried into the night like a wish.

A wish Rae heartily seconded. All of her own were fulfilled, so it was time others got their due. Especially Ty, who had shown his integrity when it mattered most.

A firefly flitted past, drunk on the serenity of the night. Rae rubbed her palm against Zack's thigh, ready to wrap up the subject and file it away. The past was past, the future was theirs.

"What happened next?"

Zack shrugged. "I told them it was time to hunt, and we left—me and Ty." He leaned in for another kiss. "We can't keep the pack waiting."

Rae smiled against his lips. "How many tonight?"

"Depends if you count Cody. He wants to know if we get to kill anything tonight."

She play-smacked his arm. "Men."

He pulled her into a hug that pinned her arms safely to her sides. "Don't blame all of us."

She melted into his body in spite of herself, and then jerked her mind back to the hunt. Business first.

_Followed by pleasure,_ her wolf added.

Yes, there'd be that, too. Guaranteed.

"So how many?" she asked, trying to get back on track.

Zack rattled off a list of names so long, Rae ran out of fingers to count them on. A handful of wolves had tagged along her first hunt as a member of Twin Moon pack, and the number had doubled the second time around. From the sound of it, there would be even more tonight. Some of them were already trotting to the hills and yipping in anticipation, waiting for the Mistress of the Hunt.

Waiting for her. Rae took a deep breath and found the scent of a destiny fulfilled. She had her mate, her pack, her duty.

_Just like the old days,_ her wolf nodded, _when the huntress led her pack in the chase._

"No," Zack said, reading her mind. "These are the new days. And you know what?"

"What?"

He kissed her. "Something tells me they're going to be good."

Desert Hunt _is the prequel to Anna Lowe's Twin Moon series. Book 1 is_Desert Moon, _Ty's story. Will this lonely alpha ever find his mate?_

* * *

_You should also check out Anna's most sizzling, suspenseful series (Aloha Shifters and Fire Maidens: Europe) along with all the free books & bonus materials available on her author website._

* * *

_Anna loves putting the "hero" back into heroine and letting location ignite a passionate romance. If you enjoy atmospheric settings, smoldering passion, electrifying action, & edge-of-your-seat suspense, you'll love her books!_

# The Necromancer's Betrayal

### Becca Andre

# Chapter One

Elysia tucked her hands in her pockets and bent her head against the damp wind. This February had been mild—mild enough that it rained instead of snowed—but it was still too cold for the lightweight jacket she wore. She had left her heavy coat at her grandmother's house when she visited over Christmas. She should call and ask for it to be sent to her, but that would give Grams another opportunity to lecture her about wasting her life—and talent. Elysia had gotten her fill of that over the holidays.

She hesitated at the corner, and after a quick look in both directions, crossed against the light. It was too cold to obey the traffic laws. She cut through an alley and stepped out onto the parking lot behind the building where she tended bar five nights a week. It wasn't the career she had envisioned when she graduated college three years ago, but it paid the bills. Mostly.

The wind shifted, tugging at her hood, and she reached up to hold it in place. That's when she became aware of another tug on her senses. This one familiar and as natural as breathing. Death called to her, somewhere in the darkness near the back door of the bar. She stopped in the shadow of a neighboring building and reached out. The call was too strong for it to be anything other than a human.

The back door of the bar opened, and Elysia jumped in surprise. She had been so lost in the call, that she hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. A tall blonde stopped in the doorway, her legs and arms bare beneath the mini skirt and sleeveless top she wore.

"You out here?" The woman squinted in the dim light. The illumination from the dirty bulb over the door didn't carry far.

Suddenly, the woman wasn't alone. A man stepped out of the darkness beyond the door and walked toward her. His footfalls made no sound against the wet pavement. The woman didn't flee into the bar like Elysia expected. Instead, she nudged a broken brick against the doorframe to keep the door from closing, and walked out to meet him.

"Where did you go?" the woman asked him. "That brunette was hot, and interested."

The man moved closer. If he said anything, Elysia didn't catch the words. She reached out once more, and gasped. Here was the death she had felt. Dear God, a zombie. And this woman seemed to know him. Had he just been killed and animated? If so, he was animated by blood. Elysia didn't sense direct necromancer control. Then there was the fact that he was right behind her place of employment. That couldn't be a coincidence. Who knew she was here? And why would—

The dead man captured the blonde by the shoulders and pushed her back against the wall.

"Hey!" Elysia shouted and walked toward them. She hesitated to take command of the zombie. If his handler was nearby, he would know what Elysia was, and she wasn't about to give that away until she had to.

The woman whispered something to the zombie, then shoved him. To Elysia's surprise, he stumbled back a step. "Don't screw this up," the woman told him. She stepped back inside, kicking the brick out of the way to let the door slam behind her.

Elysia slowed. Had the woman been the zombie's controller? Now what? Should Elysia follow her inside and confront her?

The man began to turn, and Elysia noted the wide shoulders and how well the ripped jeans fit. She had to give the woman credit. She knew how to bait her.

Elysia gave herself a mental shake. Gross. She was admiring a corpse. Maybe it was time to find a boyfriend before she ended up like crazy Aunt— No, not going there.

The man finished his turn. "Yes?"

Elysia skidded to a stop, almost falling on the wet asphalt. He wasn't a zombie. Zombies were mindless shells of humanity animated by a necromancer or her blood. This man was a lich: an animated corpse with his consciousness still intact.

"Did you need something?" He cocked his head slightly, earnest eyes meeting her own. She couldn't discern the color of his eyes in the dim light, but she could see that they weren't filmed over in death. God, he hadn't been dead long.

"Miss?" He took a step toward her. "You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?" He reached out as if to take her elbow. "Can I help you get somewhere?"

She said the first thing that came to mind. "Sit."

His legs folded and his butt hit the ground with a wet splat. He looked up with wide horrified eyes that likely reflected her own expression.

"Oh, shit," they said in unison. She never expected to meet her first lich behind a bar in Athens, Ohio. Maybe at a family reunion...

"You're a necro," he said.

"And you're dead."

He glanced around, checking for witnesses. "And now I'm yours." He frowned up at her. "What would you command of me—other than a wet ass?"

She blinked. "I didn't expect you to be this... articulate."

Anger lit his eyes. "What? Did you think I was just a dumb animal?"

Wow, she had insulted a corpse. That was a new one.

Without warning, he shoved himself off the ground and into a crouch.

"Stop!" She took a hasty step back.

He dropped to a knee and doubled over with a grunt, as if he had been punched.

"Stay where you are," she added, her tone softer. "Who do you belong to?"

He lifted his head and glared, perhaps hoping to intimidate her. It would be more effective if he wasn't kneeling at her feet.

"Were you sent to expose me?"

He maintained his frown—and his silence.

"Tell me," she said.

"I belong to no one." He fisted his hands, but made no other move.

"Who Made you?"

He gritted his teeth and the muscle in his lower jaw flexed.

"Was it the woman you were talking to?"

"No. She's my friend."

Elysia frowned. She didn't think he could lie to her, but he could avoid telling the whole truth. If his creator had given him a command, Elysia would have a hard time subverting it. But there was a solution. If she made him hers, he would tell her everything.

"Get up," she told him.

He rose to his feet, moving closer as he did.

She stood her ground. "You will not harm me."

Something much like a growl came from his throat. It was the creepiest thing she had ever heard.

"Come." She turned and headed for the street.

"As my lady commands," he muttered and followed.

Elysia walked the three blocks to her small apartment, keenly aware of the dead man following a few paces behind. He maintained his silence, and each time she glanced back, he was busy surveying their surroundings as if he expected someone to jump out at them. His intensity made her nervous.

She knew little of liches aside from the stories. The ability to create one was extremely rare. That meant that a very powerful necro could be nearby. She only knew of two others powerful enough to create a lich. One was the Deacon, the most powerful necromancer in the Midwest, and the other was his son.

Elysia followed the cracked sidewalk to her apartment, eyeing every shadow and potential hiding spot. She glanced over her shoulder and found the lich's gaze on her. A shiver crawled up her spine. Rumors held that a powerful necromancer could watch the world through the eyes of those he had Made. She didn't believe that, but now, alone in the dark with this dead man, she couldn't help but wonder. It was another reason to make him hers.

She led him around to the back door and into the outdated kitchen. It looked like Ernie, her roommate, had already left for his shift at Dairy Mart, though he hadn't been gone long. The smell of his favorite frozen pizza still hung in the air.

"Please have a seat." She gestured at one of the three mismatched chairs surrounding the 1950s-style dining table.

"That's more a request than a command." He studied her as he spoke. In the bright light of the kitchen, she noted that his eyes were a vivid forest green. An interesting contrast to his jet-black hair. What a shame he was dead.

He pulled out the nearest chair and dropped into it. At the last moment, she remembered his wet jeans and flinched. He had probably ruined the seat cushion.

He caught her eye and the corner of his mouth curled upward.

A chill rolled over her. Death hadn't robbed him of his intellect.

He frowned under her scrutiny. "What?"

She chewed her lip, but didn't comment. All she wanted was to get this over with. Crossing the room, she tugged at the warped drawer beside the sink until it abruptly rattled open, almost spilling its contents on the floor. She considered the three knives and selected the one with the shortest blade.

"What are you doing?" The scrape of chair legs across tile accompanied his words.

She turned to find him on his feet. His will brushed against the sliver of her soul she had injected into him on her first command. With no soul of his own, he couldn't hope to push her out, yet that touch of a will surprised her. And if she were honest, it fascinated her, too. She had always denied her gift, but deep down, the lure to use it always remained. She thought of it as her darker self. A self she would love to deny existed.

"Sit," she said.

He fell into the chair so quickly it almost tipped over backward.

His eyes dropped to the knife she held. "What are you going to do?"

"Silence."

His mouth snapped shut.

Elysia had to stop herself from apologizing. After all, he was little more than a corpse, sent here to antagonize her. She forced her feet to carry her closer.

"Don't move," she said, aware of how easily he could overpower her. The dead possessed incredible strength. She stopped beside him. "I've never done this before. I know there are fancy ceremonies and weeks of preparation, but I don't need them."

His brow wrinkled in apprehension.

"You're lecturing a dead man, Ely. Get on with it." She gripped the knife tightly, trying to force out the shakes, and eyed the other hand. The fingertips were not an option. Too sensitive and not enough blood. The wrist? That seemed dangerous. People slit their wrists to commit suicide. She wanted to bind with the dead, not become one of them. Her eyes slid up the pale skin of her inner forearm. Out of the way and an easy place to stick a bandage—providing she had one.

"Okay," she whispered.

He watched with wide eyes, probably thinking she intended to use the knife on him—though the dead had nothing to fear from a paring knife, or any weapon. Nothing short of fire or decapitation would stop them.

She pressed the blade against the soft flesh of her arm, making an indention, but no wound. "I should probably sharpen my knives." She applied more pressure, drawing it slowly across her skin. "Peeling potatoes can be—"

The knife broke the skin and she sucked in a breath.

He growled—there was no other way to describe it. She looked up in surprise and then down again as a bead of crimson rolled toward her wrist. She dropped the knife to the table.

"Tell me your name," she whispered.

"James."

"James," she repeated, and they both gasped as what she had tied between them tightened. She held out her arm. "Drink."

This time his growl stood her hair on end, but he gripped her arm in both hands and brought the wound to his mouth. She braced herself for the cold brush of his dead lips, but gasped instead when his warm mouth settled against her skin. His hot tongue scraped across the wound and pain shot up her arm all the way to her shoulder.

"James," she whispered, intent on finishing it. "You are mine. From this moment forward, for as long as I live, you are mine." The pain vanished and the soul-bond shifted and grew.

He groaned and ran his tongue along the wound again.

"We are bound," she forced out. "When my life ceases, so does yours."

The link between them exploded into life, slamming deep into the very core of her being—and his. He threw himself away from her with enough force that he ended up on the floor beside his overturned chair.

She turned and stumbled across the kitchen, catching the doorframe to regain her balance. She pushed off and all but fell into the living room. The arm of the sofa saved her from landing in the floor.

A howl rose from the kitchen, and she whirled to face the door. The deep baritone was hauntingly beautiful, but terrifying at the same time.

"Hades's blood," she whispered, her grandmother's favorite curse. What the hell was that?

# Chapter Two

Elysia hurried across the room and snatched up the phone. Fingers poised over the buttons, she hesitated. Better think this through. She couldn't call Grams and tell her she had soul bound someone else's lich. Aside from being rude, it was a bit on the paranoid side. She rubbed her face with her left hand. When she lowered her hand, her eyes were drawn to her forearm. Thin streaks of blood soiled the skin, but the wound was gone. How—

A chair scraped across the kitchen tile, and she turned to face the doorway, keenly aware of the dead man in the next room. James appeared a moment later, gripping the top of the doorframe as he swayed on his feet. He bowed his head and black hair tumbled over his forehead.

If Elysia needed any evidence that he had been sent to mess with her, she only had to look at him. Tall and broad-shouldered with a handsome face, and an athletic build. He would have commanded her attention even without the call of his death.

Her eyes were drawn to his mouth—the reason she was standing here gripping her phone like it might save her from drowning. His mouth had been warm. Could he be that newly Made? She knew that liches decayed far more slowly than the average dead, but she didn't think they retained any warmth.

James lifted his head, staring at her through the dark hair hanging over his forehead. His eyes literally glowed like green flame. She froze as if she were a deer sensing the gaze of a predator.

"What have you done?" he whispered.

His voice broke her paralysis. She turned the phone in her hand and dialed Gram's number.

"Elysia!" her cousin's youthful voice answered the call.

James released the doorframe and straightened, but he didn't move toward her.

"Hey, Livie." Elysia forced more cheer into her voice than she felt. "Is Grams around?"

"Last I saw, she was up to her elbows in Mr. Michaels."

She assumed that was Grams's current client at her funeral parlor, otherwise Livie would be a lot more excited.

"Could you put her on?" Elysia glanced at the doorway, but James had returned to the kitchen.

"She'll be pissed you interrupted," Livie said.

"Mind your language, and this is an emergency."

Livie huffed. "Fine. Hang on."

"James, don't leave the house," Elysia said. She didn't raise her voice, but he appeared in the doorway a moment later.

"Yes, Mistress." His eyes bored into hers from across the room. At least, they were no longer glowing. He turned and paced away, back into the kitchen as if he couldn't stand still.

A rattle in her ear preceded Livie's return to the phone. "So what's this emergency?"

"I found an animated one," Elysia said, lowering her voice. "Just off campus."

"Really? Wow. Who's your admirer?" A grin colored her voice. At fourteen, everything revolved around boys.

"This is serious. What respectable necromancer turns loose the undead on a college campus?"

"Maybe he's not that talented, and it got away from him." Livie clearly thought Elysia was talking about a zombie. But that's what most necromancers would think. Liches were too rare to even be considered.

"Then he wouldn't be far from the corpse," she reminded her.

"I take exception to being called a corpse," James said.

Elysia whirled to find him halfway across the living room. She hadn't heard him, and she had been too absorbed in the conversation to sense him. Realizing how close he had gotten without her notice set her heart to pounding.

He flopped down on the couch and cracked open a Coke he had taken from the refrigerator. He had removed his leather coat to reveal a black concert T-shirt that fit him well.

"If you drink that, you'll vomit," she told him. The dead didn't possess a working digestive system.

"Hardly. I like Coke." He took a drink, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"If you make a mess, you're cleaning it up."

"You should be more worried about what my ass is doing to your couch."

"Who are you arguing with?" Livie asked.

"The corpse," James called.

"You heard that?" Elysia asked him. No way.

He ignored her, taking another drink from his can.

"Grams!" Livie screamed. Elysia pulled the phone away from her ear.

"Little sister?" James propped his feet on the coffee table, crossing his black biker boots at the ankle.

"None of your business. And get your feet down."

His boots thumped against the carpet. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn't look at her. "You forget. My business is now nothing but your business."

A muddled conversation and Grams's stern tone came over the line, "What is this child talking about?"

"I just finished a binding."

Grams must have been stunned to silence.

"A blood binding," Elysia clarified.

"You finally embraced your calling."

Elysia cringed at the relief in her grandmother's voice. This was going to get ugly. "No. I found him wandering around campus."

"You blood bound someone else's zombie?" Grams sounded disgusted.

Elysia could feel James watching her, but didn't look over. "He's not a zombie. He's a lich—I think."

"A lich?" James demanded, rising from the couch. He seemed upset.

"What do you mean, you think?" Grams asked. "If he's dead and walking around, he's either a zombie or a lich."

Elysia didn't answer, too preoccupied watching James stalk toward her. He was lethal grace and power. Her necromantic senses screamed that he was dead, but her eyes said differently. He didn't look dead. He didn't move like he was dead.

"You didn't know," he said.

"That him?" Grams asked.

"Stop," Elysia commanded.

James froze where he stood.

"You're not a lich, are you?"

James frowned, but didn't answer.

"Tell me about him," Grams said, her tone low and urgent.

"He's dead, but he doesn't look like it or move like it. I sense no rot, and he's... warm."

James turned away, raking a hand through his hair.

"And Grams, sometimes his eyes glow."

"Not possible," Grams muttered.

"I'm not making this up. Might he be New Magic?" Almost twenty years ago, a new kind of magic had appeared in the world, something different from the types of magic that had always been around, like necromancy. This New Magic produced all sorts of bizarre abilities. Could James be one of them?

"No, I meant it's not possible that you found him," Grams explained. "We knew he had to be out there, somewhere."

"What? Who?"

"Tell him to change."

James whirled to face her. "No."

"Do it, girl," Grams said.

"Fine," Elysia muttered. Crazy old woman. "James, change."

Darkness swallowed the space where James stood, but it happened so quickly, she would have missed it if she had blinked. James vanished, and in his place stood a huge black dog, familiar glowing eyes focused on her.

"Shit!" Elysia cried. "He's a dog!"

"He's a grim," Grams said, between gales of laughter.

Elysia stared into green eyes that were almost on level with her own. "A what?"

"A grim. The culmination of the necromantic arts. A conglomeration of human and hellhound."

"H-hellhound?"

"My dear, he is the Holy Grail. Bring him to me."

James growled, soft and low. He lifted his black lips exposing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Elysia took a hasty step back. "I, I have to work," she said into the phone. The excuse came easily, her attention on the massive canine before her.

"This is more important. You don't understand what you have there, what it means to us."

Ah yes, time to play the _Family_ card. Elysia, the Family's brightest hope, was letting everyone down again.

"Nor do you understand the danger."

"He's dangerous?"

"He has the ability to rip the soul from the living."

"What—" She cut off the question as he took a step toward her. "Stop!"

James stopped and snarled softly.

"Elysia?" Grams sounded worried.

"I'm fine. He still obeys me."

"Hades's Blood," Grams muttered. "If you don't come here, I'll come there. Do you want your friends to see your weird necro grandma?"

Well, no. "Fine, but I don't see why you can't wait until Sunday." That was her day off.

"Today, Elysia." The line went dead.

Elysia hung up, and looked down at the huge black dog. "Grams. Any wonder why I left home?"

He growled and she took another step away from him.

"Change back." She could handle the man.

A flash of darkness and James stood before her. He looked the same, except his dark hair was tousled, his green eyes still glowed... and he was completely naked.

Something like a squeak escaped her throat as he took her by the shoulders and pressed her against the wall.

"You didn't know what I was," he whispered.

"I still don't."

"Then why did you bind me?" His grip tightened on her shoulders.

Her breath caught as she felt the sharp edge of... claws through the fabric of her sweatshirt. "I, I thought you had been created for nefarious purposes or maybe to draw me out."

"Draw you out?"

"Necromancers can be... territorial." She tried to shrug, but couldn't under his hold. "You're a hellhound?" she asked, not sure she believed Grams.

"I'm a grim." He spoke the words between clenched teeth. "You know, the Holy Grail of dead things."

Damn, he had some seriously good hearing. She studied him. He was clearly pissed, but his grip didn't hurt her. Was he as dangerous as Grams believed? Or did the soul bond she had tied him with keep him in check?

"What?" he asked. "Pondering what to do with your prize?"

"No." It was her turn to frown. "Who Made you?"

"I was born this way."

"How can you be born dead?"

"How can you be this clueless?"

"Well excuse me if this topic never came up in my necromancy classes."

He lifted a dark brow. "You took classes?"

She almost laughed. "Of course not." She pressed her hands to his chest, attempting to push him away. Warm skin over solid muscle met her palms. Startled, she pulled her hands away. "Why are you warm?" She couldn't get over that.

"Actually, I'm finding it a bit drafty."

Heat rose in her cheeks. "You know what I mean. You're dead. You should be cold."

"God, I've been bound by the world's most inept necromancer. How humiliating."

"Release me."

He jerked his hands away as if burned. "Forgive me, Mistress." He held up his hands and took a step back.

Her blush deepened. "What happened to your clothes?"

"You commanded me to change without removing them. Poof. And thanks. There went my wallet, along with my IDs, credit cards..."

She refused to apologize. "My roommate isn't a big guy, but I'm sure you can find something. Go. Dress yourself and return to me." She waved a hand toward the hall.

"As my lady commands." He bowed at the waist.

She tried not to watch the play of muscle along his abs or his backside as he walked away.

Dead, she reminded herself. Dead, dead, dead. But warm. How did that work? Why did her necromantic senses tell her he was dead when every other sense told her otherwise?

She rubbed her face. Shit. What had she gotten herself into? Worse, she felt so guilty. He didn't seem like a monster. But if Grams was right, he needed to be bound.

Grams. She would take him to her. She would know what to do.

Elysia wandered into the kitchen taking James's Coke with her. He hadn't drunk much, if any. Why the charade? Maybe he wanted to rinse the taste of her blood from his mouth. She shivered, remembering the way he had groaned, the feel of his mouth against her skin. She really needed to get a boyfriend. Or maybe it was just the magic. It had been a long time since she had truly used her power. It surprised her anew how... alive it made her feel.

She turned toward the table to collect the knife. The table was empty.

"Did you move my Coke?" James asked.

"Damn." The word came out on a gasp as she turned to face him. "Do you do that on purpose?"

"What?" The sardonic twist of his lips belied the question. "Mine?" he asked pointing to the condensate-covered can on the counter.

"Yes."

He crossed the kitchen to retrieve it. He had pulled on a pair of shorts, and though they covered what they needed to, they were clearly too small. He hadn't bothered with a shirt.

"Where's the knife?" she asked.

"Sink." He leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip from his can while he watched her.

Goosebumps pebbled her arms under the intensity of those green eyes. Refusing to let him intimidate her, she walked over to the sink to check. The paring knife lay against the chipped porcelain surface that lined the ancient sink. The blade didn't bear evidence of its recent use. It looked clean. Still, she turned on the hot water to give it a quick scrub.

"You thought I took it." He didn't sound angry.

"It wasn't where I left it."

"I don't need a knife to cause harm, and besides, you put in the kill you, kill me clause."

She tried to ignore how easily he said that, as if he wouldn't hesitate to kill her otherwise. "It's called a soul bond."

"But I have no soul."

She looked over at him. "Everyone has a soul, yours is no longer bound to this plane of existence."

He frowned, a slight cock to his head as he considered her explanation.

"And the soul that was bound is my own. You could say we now share it."

"That's not the way I understood it."

"Perhaps _you_ should attend necromancy class."

His lips curled, hinting at a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps."

She picked up the neatly folded towel and began to dry the knife. She wasn't cut out for this. She wanted to go to work this evening, not drive home. She returned the knife to the drawer. "We need to get on the road."

His humor evaporated. "Take me to Grams? Show her your prize?"

Elysia sighed. "I'm going to go pack." She eyed him.

"I have a condo on the other side of town."

"You're not a student?" Students had to spend their first two years in campus housing.

"Part-time student. This is my first semester."

That might explain why she had never bumped into him before. But it also bothered her. What if he really was just another magical being trying to get by in this world? No, Grams said he was dangerous, and Grams would know.

Elysia nodded and left him standing there.

Elysia stared up at the fancy new condo. It occurred to her that James could be a lot older than he looked. Although, if he was starting his college career, he might be younger than she was. She followed him up onto the porch. He had pulled on his leather coat over the shorts. Fortunately it was dark, so the bare legs and feet hadn't drawn attention when they had walked to the municipal lot to get her car. He punched a number into the keypad and pushed open the front door. A draft of cold air brushed her cheeks and with it, an awareness. She froze on the threshold.

"What is it?" James asked.

"We're not alone."

James looked around, instantly on alert. He didn't crouch or move, but there was something about the sudden tension in his body that made it apparent that he was ready to attack. No fear, no hesitation. Elysia stilled as she watched him. At that moment, she had no trouble believing Grams's assertion that he was dangerous.

He turned his head to glance at her, breaking the spell. "Your soul is the only one here." His glowing eyes slid over her in a way that made her want to cover herself. It wasn't a leer or anything so crude. It was as if he saw within her, down to her very...

"You see souls," she said, stunned.

"When I look, yes." The glow in his eyes faded away. "No one's here."

"Not a person, a presence. This house is haunted."

"Oh, that." James visibly relaxed. "That's Reggie."

"Reggie?"

He turned and led her into the condo. "I offered to take him across, but he's not interested." He waved toward the open living room. "I'm going to get dressed." He started up the stairs.

"Wait," she called.

He stopped in mid-stride then gave her a glare. "Should I have asked for permission first?"

"If you insist on being a smartass, maybe I will make you ask." She jogged up to the step he was on. "What do you mean take him across? Across what?"

"Across whatever divides the mortal world from the next." His cold gaze met hers and held it.

"You really can rip souls."

"Yes. And they don't have to be willing."

His confession shocked her to silence.

"May I go dress now? These shorts are riding up my ass in the worst way."

Her cheeks heated, and she realized that he had probably said that intentionally. "Go." She waved him on. "And pack a bag," she called after him. "We may be gone a few days."

"Yes, Mistress," his voice carried down the stairs.

She frowned after him, her heart thumping a quick rhythm against her breastbone. A grim? More like the grim reaper. A power like that shouldn't be left in the hands of one man. Especially one that seemed so angry. She remembered how he confronted that woman behind the bar. She had picked up on the anger in his body language.

Perhaps Grams was right about him.

She wandered into the living room and stopped to admire the leather furniture and enormous flat screen mounted on the opposite wall. Did his family have money or had he acquired such nice things by other means? And did she really want to know?

One wall contained a series of framed black and white photographs. They looked professionally done, and each showed a different doorway or decorative arch. Every one made her skin crawl.

On an end table, she found another picture. Unlike the photos on the wall, this appeared to be a candid shot. She leaned in for a closer look. The photo showed five people standing in front of a large Christmas tree. Two men and three women. One of the women was James's blonde friend from behind the bar. Everyone was smiling at the photographer.

The smiles of people who were, if not family, at least very close, gave her a pang. She didn't regret leaving home, but she did miss it. She especially missed the company of other necromancers. People like her who understood the unique demands of the magic of death. It had been a childish notion to expect to find a normal life, anywhere. She couldn't escape the call of death.

She turned away and came nose to nose with a man missing half his face. The scream escaped before she could stop herself.

# Chapter Three

"Shit." Elysia took a step back. The specter had been standing mere inches behind her in all his gory glory. If she had to guess, she would say he died in a fire. "Reggie, right?"

He blinked. Well, one eye, anyway. He was missing the other. She felt the cold brush of his soul, and his eye widened.

"Don't even think about it," she told him.

A series of thumps and James vaulted the handrail to land a few feet away. He glanced between the two of them, clearly able to see the specter. He straightened and gave her a frown.

"He was standing right behind me," she complained. "He startled me." She gave Reggie a glare. "I've seen worse."

James frowned, then turned to the ghost. "Reggie, we've discussed this." A pause. "No excuses."

Elysia stared at James. "You can hear him?" Only uniquely talented necromancers could manage that, and then you had to let the specter in. No thank you.

James held up a finger, asking her to wait. "Yes, I know she's a necro. Thanks for the warning." He made a shooing gesture. "Leave her alone, Reg."

The specter gave her a frown with his one remaining eyebrow, then vanished.

James tugged his black T-shirt in place over his jeans and gave her a puzzled look. "I thought necros could hear ghosts."

"For a price."

His brows rose in question.

"We must let them possess us."

"I didn't know that."

"Then what do you do?"

"I'm a bit of a ghost myself." He shrugged and walked away.

The drive out of Athens was a quiet one. Her few comments on the scenery or the weather had been met with silence. Not liking the quiet, she popped in her favorite CD and turned up the volume. The manic drum beat and screaming guitar thumped through the speakers, and she tapped a finger against the steering wheel.

James glanced over. "You like metal?"

"Yes." She had seen a couple of his T-shirts and wondered at his surprise. His taste appeared even heavier than hers. "Expecting something different?"

"I figured you would torment me with bad pop."

"Dear God, no. I'm a necromancer, not a sadist."

A soft snort answered her, but when she glanced over, he was studying the dark landscape outside his window. He didn't comment further, but the silence that followed was more comfortable.

Two hours into the trip, she pulled over for gas. James climbed out of her small car and stretched to his full height.

"Next time we take my car," he muttered, rubbing one shoulder.

"You're sore?" Not possible. The dead had no bodily concerns. From her experience, they weren't aware enough to know they had a body.

He rolled his shoulder and gave her a frown. "You going to stop and eat or should I get something." He hooked a thumb toward the store.

"You eat?" She almost dropped the gas cap.

"It's eat or starve."

"Starving implies that you could die."

"In my case, I go dog and slobber all over your upholstery."

She smiled and turned to lift the gas nozzle. "Then you had better get a snack. Grams's place is still an hour away. By the time we get there, it'll be too late to expect more than a sandwich."

"No offense, but if a necro is cooking, I'm not eating."

She thunked the nozzle into the tank. "Why would I be offended?" She squeezed the lever and the gas began flowing.

James grunted and turned toward the store. He took a couple of strides and stopped. "You want anything?" he called.

"I'll be in."

He nodded and headed inside.

She watched him go, still not sure what to make of him. Metaphysically, he was a complete mystery, but more perplexing was his attitude. He should hate her, maybe try to hurt her, but he hadn't tried anything. Once he had moved past his anger, he had been... civil.

She finished pumping the gas and walked inside. James waited at the counter with an assortment of chips, sweets, and a bottle of Mountain Dew.

"I thought you were getting a snack." She placed a Diet Coke on the counter.

"What do you think this is?" he asked.

The clerk, a pretty-faced pregnant girl, gave them a grin and began bagging his purchases.

"No snack?" James asked, eyeing Elysia's bottle of Diet Coke.

"Not hungry." She handed the girl a couple of dollars, aware that the five in her pocket was the last of her cash. She had missed work tonight and now had to finance an unexpected road trip. It looked like a lot of Ramen Noodles next week.

James took the sack and thanked the girl, then they headed for the exit.

Elysia laid her hand on the door handle at the same moment the entry door on the other side of the counter chimed.

"Nobody move!" a male voice shouted.

James gripped her wrist.

Two men stood inside the entrance, both in ski masks and each carrying a handgun. The first raised his gun and fired toward the back of the store. Elysia dropped into a crouch before she realized that he wasn't shooting in her direction. It took three shots until an explosion of plastic marked the end of the video camera. The man stopped at the counter and pointed his gun at the cashier.

"Empty the drawer." He tossed a cloth tote bag on the counter.

James toed off his boots, his attention never leaving the two men.

"What are you doing?" Elysia whispered.

The second man noticed them and hurried toward their side of the counter. "You two, on the floor."

James didn't comment. Instead he undid his pants and shoved them down.

"Listen you twisted fuck. On the floor or I pop you one. Or better yet, your girl." He swung the gun toward her.

James growled, and the gunman's eyes returned to him.

"What the hell?"

"Exactly." James tossed his shirt aside and sprang at the guy.

The gun fired. This close, it made Elysia's ears ring. Darkness enveloped James, and an enormous black dog landed where he should have.

The gunman screamed—very high and very loud—and began to fire repeatedly.

James the hellhound jumped, covering the distance between himself and the gunman in one leap. Elysia expected the pair to collide and crash to the ground, but James didn't slam against him. He disappeared _into_ him.

Elysia stood up. "What—"

The gunman collapsed on the floor without a sound. James was nowhere in sight, but her senses told her there was still a dead man in the room: the man on the floor.

"Hades's blood," she whispered.

Another gun went off, and she realized that the other gunman was just as freaked out. The cashier screamed and Elysia reached out instinctively. Joyous relief filled her as she unfettered her soul. It flowed into the empty body on the floor and brought life. Euphoria rolled through her veins, and she almost forgot her purpose.

"Rise," she breathed, and the dead gunman came to his feet in a smooth coordinated motion. The body responded perfectly with no lingering resistance to her foreign presence. It was as if his soul had left his body so smoothly it had left no bit of himself behind to fight her.

"No," she whispered, as the full impact of what James had done hit her. But she would think about that later. Now she willed the new body to raise the gun.

"Herb, what are you doing?" the first gunman demanded.

She fired and he staggered, but he didn't go down. Instead, he fired back. The impact shook her new body, but there was no pain.

She leveled the gun to fire again when darkness rippled behind her target. She glimpsed a taloned hand slashing from behind, then the second gunman collapsed without a sound.

In the space where he had stood, the slash of darkness remained. A glint of red eyes was followed by green. An instant later, her green-eyed hellhound crouched over the new body.

"James?" It was a rhetorical question. She could feel the bond in him, but it was still unsettling.

Another flicker of darkness, and James the man now crouched over the gunman.

"You going to keep that?" He jerked his chin toward the gunman she still held.

Heat rose in her cheeks and she pulled back her hold. The pain of her soul's return made her gasp, and the body fell to the floor.

"You ripped out his soul," she said. Knowing he could was one thing, but seeing him do it was something else entirely.

"Yes." He held her gaze with his still glowing eyes.

A groan sounded from behind the counter. The clerk.

"No," James whispered, then vaulted the counter.

Still a bit disoriented from the animation, Elysia wasn't as graceful. She stumbled around the end of the counter. James knelt beside the girl who lay unmoving on the floor. He pressed his fingers against the other side of her head, and they came away bloody.

Elysia grabbed a roll of paper towels from beneath the counter and knelt beside him. "Was she shot?"

"Yes."

Elysia ripped off a handful of towels and passed them to him. It quickly became apparent that he would need more. There was so much blood.

"Her soul is leaving," he whispered.

Elysia bit her lower lip. He was right. On the edge of her perception, she could feel the girl's growing death.

"But the baby's still here," he said.

"Oh." That would change as soon as the mother died.

"Please, don't go," James muttered.

Elysia realized that he spoke to the girl's spirit. Could she hear him? A cell phone rested beside the open register, and Elysia picked it up to dial 911.

"She won't listen," James whispered. He took the dying girl's hand in his.

The operator picked up, and Elysia gave her a quick description of what had happened—with a few embellishments to hide the necromancy.

"Help's on the way," she told him, returning the phone to the counter.

"She's going. I can't stop her." He raised glowing eyes to hers. "Can you do something?"

Yes, animate her body after she goes. But she didn't say that. Voicing her frustration wouldn't help.

"If we can keep her here until they take the baby, maybe..." He pressed a bloodied hand to the girl's swollen stomach. "Do you think she's far enough along?"

"I haven't a clue," Elysia admitted.

"The soul is so strong. So here." He closed his eyes, his brow wrinkled in anxiety.

Elysia drew a breath, and he opened his eyes as if knowing what she would say.

"There is something," she said.

"Yes?"

"I can bind her soul... to her body."

"You mean, make her a lich."

"Yes. She'll still die, but more slowly. It'll give the ambulance a chance to arrive. Perhaps the baby can be saved."

James blanched, clearly not liking the idea.

She didn't blame him. Binding this woman's soul to her rotting corpse was not a kind thing to do. Maybe it was cowardly, but Elysia remained silent, and let him decide. She wasn't sure what she wanted the answer to be. Her dark side was thrilled at the prospect, but the rest of her wanted to vomit.

"Do it," he said.

She nodded and looked down at the girl, swallowing her revulsion. Was she really going to make this young woman a lich?

"What do you need me to do?" James asked.

Elysia forced herself to focus. If she was going to do this, she had to do it right. "See if you can find something sharp. I'll have to use my blood. Then you'll need to get dressed and cart me out of here."

"What does it do to you?"

"I don't know. I've never done this. It should only drain me—unless I screw up. Then I die."

He glanced between the girl and her. Worried for his own existence? If Elysia died, so did he. For some reason, she didn't think that was his concern.

"I won't screw up," she said, holding his gaze with her own.

He studied her a moment, then to her surprise, he nodded. "How long will this take? If the ambulance comes..."

"Seconds."

"I always had the impression that lich making was a big deal."

"It is. I'm not a normal necro."

"Meaning?"

"Later." She leaned in closer to the girl. "Do me a favor? Keep what I'm about to do to yourself?"

"Who would I tell?"

"My grandmother."

"You could command my silence."

"I could."

He grunted. "Shall we see if death can save a life?"

# Chapter Four

James handed Elysia a box cutter and watched as she snapped it open. This blade looked much sharper than that knife she had used in her kitchen. Maybe he shouldn't let her do this. She took a deep breath that shook when she released it. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get the words out before she ran the box cutter across her forearm. The scent of Elysia's blood colored the air, the iron-rich aroma calling to him. James pushed to his feet and hurried away.

He returned to his clothes, alarmed by his reaction, his longing to once again drink the ambrosia that flowed in her veins. God, what was wrong with him? He pulled on his clothes and considered escaping to the fresher air outside.

He looked toward the counter, using the hound's sight to see the souls on the other side. He squinted in the brightness that was Elysia. He had never seen a soul that glowed so brightly.

He felt it the moment Elysia bound the girl's soul. It stopped fluttering about her body and sank inside. He didn't want to think too deeply about what Elysia was doing, but he couldn't ignore it. The girl was being bound to her dying body. But maybe the baby could be saved.

A thump sounded from the other side of the counter and Elysia groaned.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

When she didn't answer, he rushed around the counter. She lay slumped against the wall, holding a wad of tissues to her forearm.

"Hey." He moved closer.

"It's done," Elysia whispered. Her eyes were half closed, but he still glimpsed white irises where golden-brown had been.

"I see." He squatted beside her and then regretted the move when the strong scent of her blood washed over him. His mouth immediately began to water. It was a bizarre reaction he had never had before, but then, he had never been exposed to necromantic blood. The vibrancy and vitality he could smell. Even the color seemed brighter, more full of life.

"How badly did you nick yourself?" Not wanting to, but knowing he must, he caught her wrist and rotated it toward him.

"It didn't heal like it did with you," she said, the words a little slurred.

He pulled away her other hand and found an inch long cut, still sluggishly bleeding. "Heal?"

"Does your saliva have healing properties?" Her head drooped and her tawny blonde hair fell forward, obscuring her face.

"I've never made it a habit to lick open wounds." It was hard to tell with the new blood, but he saw no evidence of the cut from earlier this evening.

"That would be gross," she mumbled.

An ambulance siren wailed in the distance. He lifted his head, listening. It was still miles away, but they needed to leave or answer some uncomfortable questions.

He glanced at the clerk and found both souls still firmly attached. The clean towels Elysia had placed under her head were not as blood saturated as earlier.

James scooped Elysia up and headed for the door. He paused long enough to retrieve his bag of snacks and hurried to her tiny car. He placed her, still muttering about something, in the passenger seat and cracked his head climbing into the driver's side. He put the seat back as far as it would go, but still felt cramped. Grumbling, he punched the accelerator and left the ill-fated convenience store behind.

He continued down the road in the direction she had been headed. How long would Elysia be out of it? Could he make it to Cincinnati? And then what? She had only to give him a command and force him to kill everyone he cared about. He didn't think she would, but it wasn't a chance he could take.

"James?" Even though she slurred the letters together, he still felt the tug on the sliver of soul she had buried within him. It seemed to do that every time she said his name.

"Yes?"

"I'm thirsty."

"Just a minute." He glanced at the sack on the back seat and then at her slouched form. "Let me pull over."

He drove until he spotted a rutted lane that led to an ancient barn a hundred yards off the road. The little car bounced and thumped over the dips and ruts. After one particularly deep rut, Elysia sat up with a gasp and gripped the dashboard.

"Did we wreck?" she asked.

"No, it's a bumpy country road." He brought the car to a stop and reached into the back seat to retrieve his bag of goodies. He pulled out her Diet Coke, cracked it open, and handed it to her. "You got it?" he asked when she fumbled the bottle.

"Mmm," she answered, tipping up the bottle. A drop escaped and rolled down to her chin. She took the bottle away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. He glimpsed her forearm in the glow of the dashboard.

"Are you still bleeding?" he asked. He had adjusted to the scent of her blood—after driving with his window down for several miles. Even so, the smell made him edgy.

She rotated her wrist to reveal her forearm. A drop of blood had rolled to the crease of her elbow. "Yeah," she said. "Is that bad?"

He grunted. Though it was down to a trickle, it should have stopped by now.

"Grams once told me about her cousin. She tried to make a lich, and she bled to death."

James cocked his head. "Did she hit an artery or something?"

"Nope. She wasn't strong enough." Elysia continued to stare at her arm. "I am, but two bindings in one day is a bit much." She laughed. "Never thought I'd hear myself say that."

James watched a second droplet move toward her wrist. He took her Diet Coke out of her hand and twisted the cap into place before dropping it on the floorboard.

"I was drinking that," she complained.

He cupped the back of her forearm, and before he could reconsider, leaned over and ran his tongue along the cut.

Elysia yelped, but he wouldn't let her pull away. Like earlier today, her blood burned across his tongue and down his throat, setting his body on fire. Life. How ironic that necromancers dealt in death when in truth, their power was life.

"James."

The bond tightened, and without warning, she sank more of herself into him. Damn, that felt good. His own power rose in response, like to like. His vision changed and his skin tingled. He lifted his head and had to squint against the brightness of her soul.

Her head fell back against the headrest, and she stared at him with wide white eyes. She lifted her hand to rub her fingers lightly along his jaw, tracing a finger over his lower lip.

"You've got a great mouth," she told him.

He smiled. She might sound lucid, but she was clearly out of it.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

He had a second to register his shock, and then the compulsion kicked in. He leaned in and covered her mouth with his. He should be pleased at the opportunity to make out with a pretty girl, but the necromantic compulsion took all the fun out of it.

Elysia's arms came up around his shoulders, and she parted her lips for him. A few brushes of her tongue and the necromancer thing wasn't such a turn off. She groaned and one hand slid up the back of his neck into his hair. James was still riding high from her blood, his body alive in a way he had never truly felt. He wondered what she would do if he pulled her into his lap.

"Elysia," he said against her lips. They gasped in unison as the bond flared up once more.

"That's not supposed to happen," she whispered. "I—"

"Careful." He pressed a finger to her lips, still damp from his kiss. "You're not yourself. Don't give me any commands you might later regret."

She frowned. "I gave you a command?"

"Yes." He wondered if she was disappointed.

"Oh God." She pushed open the passenger door and almost fell out in her haste to leave.

By the time he climbed out of the car, she had already disappeared around the side of the barn. He walked after her, unconcerned about losing her in the darkness. With a taste of her soul, he would always be able to find her again.

He reached the corner of the barn and heard retching. A peek around the corner revealed what he expected, she was on her knees emptying her stomach. Another side effect of her over-use of necromancy? Concerned, he took a step toward her.

"Dead, Elysia," she whispered. "Dead, dead, dead. Why do you keep forgetting?" She retched again.

James stood in silence a moment, then retreated to the car. He didn't know why it bothered him. He had always known that no woman would have him once she knew what he was, but to make a necromancer sick? Not cool. Necros were known for their depravity.

He glanced toward the barn. He was alone, and she was weak right now. It was an opportunity he couldn't ignore. If he got far enough away, could he resist her call?

Addie. He would go to Addie. If anyone could figure out a way to free him, she could. Addie Daulton was a master alchemist, trained at the Alchemica, the most prestigious alchemy institute in the country. There was no one better. Not only would she welcome the challenge of finding a solution, she would move heaven and hell to help him. Addie was his best friend.

He shrugged off his coat and tossed it on the driver's seat. Goosebumps pebbled his arms. This February had seen higher temperatures than usual, but it was still cold.

Hands on the hem of his shirt, he hesitated. He should make sure Elysia made it back to the car before he left.

No, she wasn't that out of it. She would be fine. He had to get out of here while he still could. He tugged his shirt up to his armpits and stopped.

If Elysia died, he could be banished from the mortal plane. Would he end up trapped in the land of the dead? That's what had happened to Gavin, the grim before him.

Grumbling, he pulled his shirt down and walked toward the barn. Why did she have to soul bind him? Why add the if-I-die-you-die clause? Had she been that afraid of him?

He stepped around the corner of the barn and stopped. Elysia was gone.

# Chapter Five

James called the hound and his senses came to life. He turned in a slow circle, looking for the glitter of Elysia's now familiar soul. Nothing.

He sifted through the scents and caught a whiff of her strawberry shampoo. Yet it seemed to have moved beyond this area. Unease fluttered through his stomach. Where had Elysia gone? Distance did limit the hound's sight. Could she have moved far enough away in the short time he had been gone?

James stripped off his clothes and slid into his other form, but even the hound's greater range failed to spot her. He took off into the trees.

Ghosting through the forest, his footsteps made no sound in last fall's leaf litter. He circled the barn in wider and wider loops, but found no sign of her. It seemed she had vanished. If she were a grim, he would suspect she had jumped into the land of the dead—a dimension that served as a buffer between the mortal world and whatever lay beyond. James had been able to venture there since he could walk, but a grim wasn't the only being who could travel there.

Powerful necromancers could open a portal to that place. He thought of Elysia and his hackles rose. She had made a lich in seconds with nothing but her blood.

James pulled open the portal into the land of the dead. A black plain stretched endlessly beneath a black sky, the place illuminated by a dim red glow that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere.

He took a deep breath and jumped through, shifting forms without his conscious control, but he didn't become human. He now stood on two legs, a seven-foot monster with a body that was a meld of hellhound and man. Gavin, James's predecessor and fellow grim, referred to it as their true form. It was the only form they could take in this place.

As if the thought had summoned him, Gavin stepped into James's line of sight. Though taller, he had the same nightmare form, except his eyes glowed red where James's were green. Gavin had been waiting for him, but that was nothing new. Gavin was always waiting for him.

_Hello, little brother,_ Gavin's voice whispered in James's mind. With a muzzle full of teeth, they had to use a form of telepathy to speak in this place. _Something troubles you,_ Gavin said, his old world brogue a remnant of a time long past.

_I want to learn to soul track_. James didn't like to ask Gavin for favors. For one, the guy was insane—who knew if the information was accurate.

_Have you lost someone, little brother? The pretty alchemist?_

James curled his lip. Gavin had met Addie once, and still spoke of her with longing. James hated that, but it would be pointless to reprimand him. _I simply wish to learn_.

_Will you bring her back? I like her scent, and I long to taste her_.

Unable to control himself, James snarled. _Stay away from her_.

_Touchy, touchy_. Gavin stepped closer. _To soul track, you must have first tasted the soul._

_I have._

_Then it is a simple matter. Hold that taste in your mind and let your desire for it guide you._

_You're messing with me._

Gavin lifted his upper lip, exposing a muzzle full of teeth. _Faith, little brother_.

James sighed, the sound closer to a growl in this form. He pulled open the portal.

_You must track from here. Only this form has that power_.

James let the portal go. _Why?_

_This is our true form, the two as one. You must be one or the other on the mortal plane. The hound feels no desire and the human cannot see the soul._

_But what if the one I seek is on the mortal plane?_

_The soul transcends all: there, here, and beyond._

James studied the creature before him. How could he know that? Then, too, Gavin could be blowing smoke up his ass. But James was out nothing for trying. He closed his eyes.

_Yes_. Gavin moved closer. His body gave off no heat—he truly was a ghost—but James sensed his closeness.

_Can you taste it still?_ Gavin asked. _Life? True life?_

_Yes,_ James whispered, though he really hadn't meant to. He didn't want Gavin to have any part of this, yet just the thought of the ambrosia that was Elysia's blood had him in thrall.

_Find her,_ Gavin whispered, his tone low, urgent... excited.

James didn't question how Gavin knew the one he sought was female. He probably thought he searched for Addie. But James had never tasted Addie's blood in its pure form. Would it be as sweet as Elysia's?

_Focus,_ Gavin said.

James focused on Elysia, his body beginning to tingle with the anticipation of another taste. Then he felt her. She wasn't far, but nowhere was far from here.

_Careful_. Gavin's voice was distant and growing fainter. _Do not let your desire rule you_.

James's clawed feet thumped against the ground, and it wasn't until that moment that he realized he had traveled. He opened his eyes and found the landscape unchanged. Gavin was gone, yet he wasn't alone.

She was there, here, in the land of the dead. Her soul a beacon of light in this dark, featureless place. He took a step toward her, drawn by her light and the desire that still crackled across his nerves. The blood lust.

He took a step. Then another. The distance between them shrank.

She gasped and turned to face him, her pale eyes going wide.

James hesitated, suddenly consumed by the irrational urge to hide, to not let her see his nightmare form. But that made no sense. He should want to scare her, to force her to free him.

_Stop_. A form James hadn't noticed stepped between them. A cloaked woman, her features hidden, but with a soul almost as bright as Elysia's. _Child, go_.

Elysia turned away. A gust of wind carrying her vibrancy, and she was gone.

_She is not for you, demon_.

James eyed the figure before him. Spirits didn't venture into this place. Whatever this woman was, it wasn't a ghost.

She seemed to study him from within her hood. Another gust of cool air and she was gone, though unlike Elysia, he didn't smell life.

His hackles rose.

Turning away, he followed Elysia, the ability coming more easily or perhaps it was the freshness of her scent. An instant later, he landed on four paws beside the old barn. The moon had risen above the trees and frost now coated the grass. Elysia lay curled on her side in the old leaves piled against the side of the barn.

James shifted human and knelt beside her. "Elysia?" The disturbing bond between them tightened.

"James," she whispered. "Don't leave me."

The command hit him, and any chance of going to Addie dissolved. He bowed his head, but didn't feel the anger he expected.

Elysia mumbled something else, but didn't wake. Which made no sense. How could she travel to the land of the dead in her sleep? Or had she passed out upon her return?

He remembered the risk she had taken to Make the girl at the store, and her confusion afterward. Had the use of her magic harmed her?

Concerned, he gathered her in his arms and carried her to the car. Leaning the passenger seat back, he placed her inside, then covered her with his coat. He turned the vehicle on to let the heater run. She didn't stir, and he chided himself for not asking for her grandmother's address. What would he do if she didn't wake up?

He closed the car door and shifted into the hellhound. He dealt with anxiety better in this form.

# Chapter Six

Elysia woke to morning sunlight streaming through the windshield. Her upper body was covered by a leather jacket that wasn't her own. She sat up from the reclined passenger seat and groaned. Her neck was stiff and a muscle spasmed in her lower back. It said something about her exhaustion that she had been able to sleep like that. An empty Diet Coke bottle rolled around the floorboard when she shifted her feet, the noise loud in the silence. A man's T-shirt and jeans lay on the driver's seat.

Memories from the day before returned, and she rubbed her face, groaning again. She had bound a hellhound, created a lich, and made out with a dead guy. She could do an episode of Necromancers Gone Wild—if there were such a thing.

She opened the car door and climbed out into the cold morning air. So where was—then she saw him.

In the deep shadow at the base of the barn, unblinking green eyes watched her. The eyes, with their eerie glow, were all that was visible. The hellhound's midnight fur vanished in the darkness. Odd that he chose to sleep as the hound. Then she remembered how she woke covered in his coat. Maybe he had been cold in only his shirtsleeves. But the kindness of the gesture didn't relieve the uncomfortable feeling his stare elicited in her.

"Hey," she called to him in an effort to hide her unease. "We need to get going."

A pause, and he rose to his feet. He padded toward her without making a sound. Dear God, he was huge. More like a small pony than any breed of dog she knew.

"I'm going to... use the facilities." She hooked her thumb toward the trees and tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks. "You want to get dressed?"

Without so much as a blink, he turned toward the car.

When she returned, James was leaning against the front fender. He watched her approach with the same unblinking detachment as the hound. She wondered how much of him was human and how much was animal.

"You ready?" she asked, needing to fill the silence.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" He pulled open the passenger door and climbed inside.

She sighed and went to the driver's side. He was back to sullen this morning. No, more likely he was pissed that she had made him kiss her against his will. She would be pissed, too.

She took a moment to adjust the seat and mirrors. "Damn," she muttered, catching sight of her eyes in the rearview mirror. They were no longer white, but they weren't brown either. More like sun-bleached khaki.

"What is it?" James sounded more bored than interested.

"My eyes. I'd rather Grams not know what I've been up to."

He grunted, but couldn't leave it at that. "You said as much before. Why?"

She adjusted the mirror to view the back glass and turned the key. "I swore I'd never be a practicing necromancer. I'll get an I-told-you-so if she sees me like this."

"It was my understanding that a necromancer cannot physically deny his or her magic."

She gripped the wheel. "It's possible, but it's painful. So painful." She cleared her throat. "Then there's the threat of insanity."

"Necros are known for crazy."

She squeezed the wheel harder. He didn't understand, and even if he did, he had no need to treat the topic with respect. Her actions last night had probably cemented any hatred he harbored for her kind. Yet for some reason, she didn't want him to hate her.

"It's true. Many do go insane. I'm not sure why some do, but I do know that denying your gift is the quickest route." She stopped to take a breath. "My mother was clinically insane before her thirtieth birthday."

"She was institutionalized?" His tone had softened, but she didn't look over.

"Have you ever been in an asylum? That's the last place you want to put a mentally unstable necromancer. The ghosts in that place." She shivered. "Then there's the morgue."

He grunted.

She made herself release the wheel. "I don't know why I told you that." She rubbed her face. "Just a side effect of some troubling dreams, I guess."

"What kind of dreams?" There was an intensity in his tone that made her glance over. He was watching her again with that unblinking focus.

"I have this recurring dream. It's always the same. It's dark, except for this dim red glow. And a woman. I know it's the same woman, even though I never see her face. She tells me stories about my family's past, or so she claims. My mother and grandmother. Sometimes, even further back." She shook her head, suddenly self-conscious. "It sounds so stupid saying this out loud. I guess that's why I've never told anyone."

"And you had such a dream last night?" His interest surprised her.

"Last night was different. Last night we were interrupted by... a nightmare."

"A nightmare?"

"A monster." She shivered. "Never mind. The whole dream thing has left me in a funk."

"I'm sorry."

After his grumpy mood, she didn't expect concern. "It was just a dream." And now he probably thought she was nuts for going on about it. She dropped the car into drive and carefully drove through the ruts to the main road.

"Why don't you want your grandmother to know your true strength?" James asked after they had ridden in silence for a few miles.

"She thinks I'm the one to bring the Family back to prominence. She probably wants me to challenge the Deacon for his seat."

"The Deacon of Cincinnati?" James asked, his tone apprehensive, but that was no surprise. He would fear the necromancer powerful enough to lead the rest of them.

"Xander Nelson lives in Cincinnati," she explained, providing the Deacon's name. "But he's actually over much of the Midwest."

Another pause. "Do you have the power to challenge him?"

"I've never met him. But I kicked his son's ass once, and rumor has it that father and son are much alike."

James fell silent, and Elysia decided to leave it at that. He had brought them pretty far last night, curious considering he had no idea where Grams lived. They were only twenty minutes away. She was almost home.

Elysia shut off the engine and stared at the three-story funeral home at the end of the cul-de-sac. In its day, the large stone house had been a mansion. Built over a century ago, the building had been the home of her first ancestor to settle in the area. A symbol of her family's wealth and power. Now it was simply another old building falling into disrepair. It needed a new roof, and the trim and soffits could use a fresh coat of paint. Even so, it was a welcome sight, though foreboding at the same time. Elysia took a deep breath and released it.

"Have you seen your grandmother since you left?" James asked.

"Yes. I didn't leave on bad terms, exactly. But we had our differences." That was putting it mildly, but he didn't need to hear about all that. "At first, she gave me my space, probably thinking I'd get lonely and come home. But lately, she's been calling more and more, trying to talk me into returning."

"Do you?"

"I go home for Christmas and the occasional funeral." Elysia rubbed her palms over her thighs.

"I thought your kind kept the loved ones shuffling around."

"I avoid those funerals."

He glanced over, and she saw his surprise before he hid it.

"I'm kidding—sort of."

"Sort of? You have family members who would animate a loved one?"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure your family history is littered with fine, upstanding citizens."

"Those that don't trade their descendants' souls, sure."

She didn't follow that and glanced over, but he was glaring out the windshield. "I'm sorry," she said rather than questioning him.

He looked up and their eyes met. "Me, too."

She smiled. "Couple of screwed up individuals, aren't we?"

"That's a polite way to put it."

She forced a laugh, but couldn't sustain it.

"So, what happens when the prodigal daughter returns bearing the Holy Grail?" he asked.

"All hell breaks loose?"

"I guess it's fortunate hellhounds don't burn."

She assumed he was joking and laughed. "Yeah, guess so." She studied the man sitting beside her. "You're not evil or dangerous." She had seen his compassion in that convenience store. And this morning, she had awakened covered by his coat while he stood guard in the cold.

"I like to think so."

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

He glanced over. "You'll release me?"

"I don't know how." She offered him an apologetic shrug.

He slumped in his seat, resting his head against the back.

"But maybe Grams can tell me."

"Then take me for herself."

Elysia considered arguing in Grams's defense, but suspected it would be pointless until James met her. "Let's go ask her."

"Ely!" Livie threw her arms around Elysia's neck the moment she was through the door. The girl was actually taller than her now—which was strange. Livie had come to live with them when she was only four. She had followed sixteen-year-old Elysia everywhere. An annoyance at the time, but something Elysia missed now. She tried to stay in touch, but a phone call wasn't the same thing as being here.

"Where have you been?" Livie continued. "Grams thought you would be in last night. We called your apartment, and Ernie said you left hours before. You've got to get a cell phone."

"We had car trouble. I'm sorry to worry you."

Livie's attention had already shifted to James. "Oh, wow." Her blue eyes flickered white, and she did a slow lap around him. "Damn, Ely. Great body."

James's eyes narrowed.

"He's not a piece of meat, Olivia." The use of her full name earned Elysia a frown. "Where's Grams?"

"Last I saw, doing paperwork in the office." Livie's frown became an odd little smile. "She said to send you up when you got here."

Elysia thanked her and led James from the room.

"I'm sorry about that," she told him as soon as they were alone. "The girl's boy crazy and—"

"She touched me."

Elysia glanced over her shoulder. "What? I didn't see her—"

"Not physically. Can another necro take me from you?"

"If I'm away, they might take temporary control, but I'll feel it. I won't let anyone—"

He captured her arm, pulling her to a stop. "In the wrong hands, I'm a weapon. A lethal one."

"They won't—"

"You can't know what people will or will not do. And necros especially like the zombies they can create with me."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "I was trying to take out the other gunman. I didn't—"

"Not you. I've been taken by necros before."

She stared at him. "How did you get away? Didn't someone blood-bind you?" She didn't see how anyone could hold onto him long otherwise.

"I had help. Friends. My point is, I can be used."

"No. I won't let that happen. You're mine—until I can undo this and set you free," she added the last in a whisper.

He glanced up the hall and his brow wrinkled. "If you figure out how, don't do it here."

She wanted to tell him he was wrong. He didn't know these people like she did. But she didn't want to get into that argument here. "All right. Come on. Let's go see Grams." She turned and headed up the stairs.

James cleared his throat as he fell in step beside her.

She glanced over at him. "That was a command, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Damn, I need to work on that."

"Depends on the command."

Her cheeks heated, but she forced herself to stop at the top of the steps and face him. "I owe you an apology. It was wrong to force you to kiss me. I was so out of it and..."

His dark brows rose when she stopped.

"Never mind. I'm sorry." It felt like her cheeks had caught fire. "As I said, I'll work on the command thing." She turned and led him along the hall, aware of his eyes on her back.

They had reached the rooms over the funeral parlor. Here, in the original part of the building, the halls were wider and the decor grander. This particular home had been in the Family ever since they had left Cincinnati.

She stopped outside Gram's office door. This wasn't going to go well; she could feel it. She lifted her hand to knock, but the door swung inward before her knuckles touched the wood.

"Ely Grace, where have you been?" Doug Nelson gave her a wide smile.

Shocked, Elysia stared up into Doug's bright blue eyes. No wonder Grams had been so anxious for her return. She had invited the Deacon's son.

# Chapter Seven

Doug smiled at her surprise and pulled Elysia into a hug. "It's so good to see you."

Elysia pushed out of Doug's embrace, stepping back to put some distance between them. "Good to see you, too." She forced a smile.

He grinned at her. It had been months since she had seen him, but he hadn't changed—neither in attitude nor in appearance. Thick-shouldered and handsome, he looked like a Nordic prince with his blond hair and blue eyes.

"Your grandmother has been worried sick about you. What happened?"

"We had car trouble." She used the same excuse she had given Livie.

"We?" Doug's gaze slipped past her to where James stood, then his blue eyes went white.

Elysia felt Doug's gift shroud the bond, and to her horror, she could no longer feel James.

James's eyes sprang to light and his growl gave her chills.

"Doug, stop that." She smacked his arm.

Doug laughed, and his eyes immediately returned to bright blue, though he continued to study James. "So, you really found him. Your Grandmother told me, but I had my doubts."

"He's mine."

"Possessive." His attention returned to her, his smile becoming a frown. "Do I want to know why those pretty brown eyes are the color of warm cocoa?"

"Don't be a pervert," she whispered.

"Well, are you coming in?" Grams called from inside.

Elysia raised an arm, gesturing for Doug to precede her into the room.

His smile returned, and he gave her a nod that was closer to a bow before walking in ahead of her.

Elysia glanced at James. "Join me?"

"Who is that?"

She hesitated. He wasn't going to like it. "Doug Nelson, the next Deacon."

James glared at Doug's back. "He seems to know you well."

"At one time, we were engaged."

James met her gaze, then stepped past her into the room.

"Elysia!" Grams hurried around her desk to wrap her in a hug. "I was so worried."

"I'm sorry. I should have called."

Grams stepped back, but continued to hold her by the shoulders, looking her over. She wore a new red suit-dress, her salt and pepper hair pulled up and styled primly. Had she dressed up for Doug? The poor country cousins putting on their best for the Deacon's boy.

Elysia glanced over at him. "Doug, would you excuse us?"

"Elysia," Grams whispered.

"It's fine, Judith," Doug said. "You two need to catch up. I'll let Livie give me that tour."

"Thank you," Grams said.

Doug nodded, though his gaze was on Elysia. "We'll catch up later, Ely." She remembered well the look he gave her. "Do you want me to watch the dead guy while you ladies chat?"

"That won't be necessary."

Doug shrugged and headed for the door, eyeing James as he passed. James watched him with that unblinking intensity until the door closed behind him.

"I wish you wouldn't be so rude to him," Grams said.

"Why is he here?"

"To bear witness. You found the grim."

"The grim has a name. It's James, and he's a sentient being."

Grams's frown deepened as she looked at James. "He's dead, Ely."

"Yes, but he has a will of his own and should be allowed to keep it." Elysia took a breath. Grams wasn't going to like this. "He's not evil. I want to free him."

Grams straightened. In her heels, she stood a few inches taller than Elysia. "You can't let him go. He can rip life from the living."

"That's an excuse. The only reason you want him is to impress the Deacon."

"Elysia—"

"Besides, if you're going to use that argument, I can bind the living to their own corpse. That's some damn nasty magic. Maybe I should be bound."

Grams's frown fell away, replaced by astonishment. "You can create a lich?" she whispered.

Shit. "You know I have the power."

"I knew it was a possibility, but you've actually done it? Your eyes—"

"It took a lot of juice to bind James."

"Just binding him?"

Elysia opened her mouth, then closed it. Was Grams implying what she thought she was? "I am _not_ a necrophile," Elysia whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James stand straighter. Yeah, he had no idea how deep the necro crazies could go.

"I'm worried about you." Grams's brow wrinkled with concern, her voice sad. "Out in the world, alone. We cling to family for a reason, Elysia. You should know that better than anyone."

Because her mother had been a loner—before she became too crazy to care for Elysia properly. But that was the last topic Elysia wanted to discuss. "I want to unbind him. Will you help me?"

The compassion faded from Grams's features, replaced with the all too familiar frown. "It can't be done, not from someone like you—and certainly not by someone like me." Grams crossed her arms. "And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"You would rather suck up to Doug and his dad."

"We have been pariahs for centuries. And whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, you are the Family's way back in. You've been selfish long enough."

"I'm selfish? You're asking me to give up everything so that you can get in good with the Deacon."

"This has nothing to do with me. I request this on behalf of the Family. Do you think I haven't made sacrifices?"

"I don't believe you were forced into an arranged marriage."

"Arranged?" Grams gave her a sad smile. "Doug took an interest on his own. I was as amazed as everyone else. And his interest must be true if he has waited this long."

Elysia crossed her arms. "Yet my interests don't count at all."

"Considering what some have done to keep the Family intact, I don't think many would see marrying Doug as such a hardship. He's good-looking and wealthy. Or do you intend to pour drinks for the rest of your life?"

"I get it." Elysia had always known that Grams put the Family above everything, but to hear her come right out and say it hurt. Apparently, Elysia's own hopes and dreams mattered little. In the necromancer world, it always came down to the Family.

Elysia turned away. "James, let's go."

"Elysia Grace, don't you walk away from me, from us."

"I don't see myself having any choice."

"The bank forecloses on this funeral home in two weeks. You must know we lost two others earlier this year."

Elysia bowed her head, but didn't face her grandmother.

"How am I going to send Livie to mortician's school? Or afford Uncle Stephen's care? Maggie's already asking me to place her granddaughter, and the girl's only twelve. Not as bad as you, but—"

"Grams." Elysia closed her eyes.

Grams heels tapped the hardwood behind her, then her hand gripped Elysia's shoulder. "I wouldn't ask if there was any other way, but we need his help."

Doug's help. The Deacon's help.

"Please, Ely. Doug's not a bad guy. At one time, I think you actually loved him."

At one time, perhaps. Then she figured out where his true loyalties lay.

"Stay the weekend," Grams squeezed her shoulder. "Tell me you'll think about it."

What could she say? "I'll think about it." She rolled her shoulder out of Grams's grip and led James from the room.

"Are you really considering... this?" James asked as soon as they were alone in the hall.

Elysia didn't want to rehash it with him. "It's none of your concern. Let's get our things. There are plenty of guest rooms. A hot shower and—"

He touched the back of her elbow, stopping her. "You're here because of me. That makes this my concern."

She turned to face him, her frustration boiling over. "I screwed up. I bound you, and I will free you."

"But—"

"No buts. Drop the subject. Go get your things."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he turned on his heel, heading for the stairs.

Elysia rubbed the back of her neck, watching him go. Nice one, Ely. Snap at the only person who has shown you compassion.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. But he had already disappeared down the stairs.

Elysia scooted back on the worn leather couch and opened the photo album she held on her lap. She was grateful she had the den to herself. The shower hadn't helped, so she turned to memories. The Family photo album. These pages showed what Grams was trying to save. Elysia respected that; she really did. But was it worth sacrificing herself?

She traced a finger along the edge of the page, her eyes drawn to the snapshot in the center. It had been a bright summer day when the Family had posed on the front steps of this house. A big smile creased her three-year-old face as she sat on her mother's hip. Her mother held her close, her mouth open in a laugh. It was a wide-angle shot of over fifty people, but Elysia could still pick out the paleness of her mother's once blue eyes. Elysia remembered her eyes. What she didn't remember was her laugh.

She turned the page, revealing more photos taken that day. It had been a Family reunion, the weather had been gorgeous and the turnout excellent. Glancing over the photos of cousins, aunts, and uncles, some distant, some close, she found herself picking out those who had eventually gone insane. Some, like her mother, already showed signs, while others had lost it with little warning.

Another page turn revealed a photo of herself holding a disheveled bird, her brown eyes nearly white. She had been a source of wonder then. If people knew what she could do now, she still would be.

She felt him enter the room before she heard the snap of the latch as he closed the door behind him. A moment later, the couch shifted as he sat down beside her.

"When I got out of the shower, you weren't in your room. Are you okay?" James asked.

"If I said yes, would you believe me?"

"Probably not."

"I'm sorry I... lost it with you earlier."

"Hardly lost it, but it's okay. I knew it wasn't me you were angry with."

"That's not an excuse."

"Maybe not for you, but it is a reason for me to keep my temper in check."

She smiled. He truly was a good person. As considerate and thoughtful as he was powerful. But no necromancer would ever see that. They would stop at powerful. James was a thing to be controlled—or little more than an object to win the Deacon's favor.

"Is that you?" His voice interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced down at the photo of her and the bird.

"Yes."

"I assume it's common for necromancers to take pictures of their kids holding dead animals?" A smile colored his voice.

"Not that common. Most kids can't consciously animate anything until after puberty."

"You once told me you weren't a normal necro."

"None of my line is. My mother was the same, as was her mother."

"So Grams is your father's mother?"

"No. No one knows who my father was. Grams is actually a cousin, but she raised me, so..." She shrugged, letting the sentence hang. "That's the way it works. The way it's always worked. My line is cursed."

"How so?"

She closed the album. "My mother wasn't the only one who has gone insane. Every member of my female line goes crazy before thirty."

"Because you're so powerful?"

"We're powerful because of the curse."

"You're not using the word figuratively."

"No. The one who cursed us was an alchemist, the founder of our line."

James snorted. "How ironic. My curse is much the same. My ancestor wanted to be a hunter without peer—so he traded his brother's soul."

She turned to stare up at him. "How?"

"He visited an alchemist."

"God, I hate alchemists."

He frowned and looked away. Had she offended him in some way? Before she could ask, he continued.

"Are you going to do as your grandmother asked?"

She ran her finger along the top of the old album. The leather cover had worn away exposing the rough edge of the heavy cardboard.

"Elysia?"

The bond tightened and they both gasped. She clenched the edge of the album.

"That's really not supposed to happen," she whispered.

"Why not? The same thing happens when you say my name."

"But I bound you to me. You're mine. When you say my name, it feels like..."

"You're mine?" he asked.

"That's disturbing."

"Yes, it is." His gaze held hers, as if he searched for some truth.

She didn't know what to tell him. There was no way she could be bonded to him. He had no soul to bind her.

"You cut yourself," he said.

She didn't understand until he touched the back of her right wrist. She turned her hand over and saw the gash on her index finger. The edge of the photo album was sharper than she realized.

"Do you need a bandage?" His voice was soft, but much too intense for the casual question.

She looked up and met his gaze, suddenly aware of how close he sat. The musky scent of his cologne wasn't one she could name, but she liked it. A lot. She remembered being aware of it in the car, last night right before he healed the cut on her arm. She had been a bit out of it, but she did remember kissing him, and liking that, too. She wanted to do it again—which was nine kinds of crazy.

"No, I don't need a bandage." She tried to tell herself that this was wrong, but that didn't seem to matter anymore. After all, she was nothing more than a sacrificial lamb.

She held up her finger, offering it to him.

He held her gaze for a heartbeat, then leaned forward and ran his warm tongue over the pad of her finger.

It stung, and she pulled in a breath through her teeth.

He licked it again, never breaking eye contact. On the third pass, he pulled her finger into his mouth. He closed his eyes and growled, the sound deep in his throat and just audible.

Goosebumps rose on her arms. Weird that the sound scared and excited her at the same time. Or maybe it was the warm wetness of his mouth and the brush of his tongue across her sensitive fingertip. She licked her own lips as she watched him, her heart beating faster.

She had found him attractive from the beginning, even when she thought he was nothing more than a dead man. She had been so certain that her interest had been the first steps down the dark road to insanity. Now she knew him better. He wasn't a lich, but he was still dead. Perhaps this was madness, but she no longer cared. He pulled her finger deeper into his mouth, and she groaned.

He opened his eyes, the green on full glow. Fascinated, she pulled her finger from between his lips, then rose up on her knees to taste his mouth.

His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer. She felt the bite of claws through her sweatshirt and gasped against his lips.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"No, I like it." The admission slipped out before she really thought it through. It surprised her to realize she spoke the truth.

His lips curled. "Twisted necromancer."

"Yes." She returned her lips to his, feeding more of her soul into him. The joy of freeing her magic left her light-headed with pleasure.

He trapped her lower lip between his teeth, and she felt their unnatural sharpness, the canines longer, more animal-like.

She slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt, running her palms up over the solid expanse of his stomach. The move pulled another growl from him, this one louder and more menacing.

"Scary," she whispered.

"Do I frighten you?" Earnest green eyes bored into her own.

"Yes, but not for the reason you think."

"I want to bite you just to taste your blood." He watched her as he spoke, gauging her reaction.

She shivered. "See, that turns me on."

"Me, too." He took her mouth again. "It's our magic," he continued a few minutes later. "It's so... compatible."

"I'm aware." So powerfully aware.

"And you're hurting," he whispered. His lips trailed along her cheek to her temple. A chaste kiss, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. "Why not lose yourself to the magic?"

Yes, why not? So what if every other necro saw him as little more than a corpse. She knew the man beneath the call of his death. But that didn't make this right.

She tipped her head up and kissed the underside of his jaw, then rested her head against his shoulder. "I'm using you."

"Perhaps, but you're not the only one at fault. I knew and still played along."

But he had put a stop to it before they took it too far. She leaned back to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry."

"No hard feelings." He held her gaze a moment then pushed himself to his feet. "But be warned, one of these days I'm going to stop sabotaging myself."

She smiled at his candor. "Warning received."

He nodded and headed for the door. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to go for a run."

"On four legs?"

He stopped at the door and his gaze met hers. His eyes still glowed. "I don't feel when I'm the hound."

Her heart felt too big for her chest. "You may."

He nodded and left the room.

"Hades's blood," she whispered and collapsed against the couch.

# Chapter Eight

James closed the door behind him. And forced himself to walk away. That certainly hadn't gone as planned, but he had Elysia's permission to shift forms. He had been afraid to go on his own for fear she would sense something and call him back, perhaps forbidding him to change again. Hopefully, she would think he was out running when he vanished into the land of the dead. He had to get to Addie and see if she could free him. What he wanted to do after that was what worried him.

He raked a hand through his hair. It would be insane to return to Elysia after he escaped. Yet her predicament stirred his protective instincts. And it didn't help that her magic was rapidly becoming an addiction. The thought of drinking her blood should disgust him, yet it did the opposite. Dear God, his body still hummed from those few drops he had lapped from her finger. And he wanted to do so much more than just lick her finger.

He turned down the hall to his room—determined to change there and spare his clothes—and came face to face with Doug. James skidded to a halt.

"What are you doing out alone, dead man?" Doug closed the distance between them. "Where's Elysia?"

James lifted his lips, but stopped the snarl that wanted to escape.

"Answer." Doug's power slammed into him.

"The den," James said between clenched teeth.

Doug continued to look him over. "You will answer when I ask a question."

James flinched with another slap of his power.

"Are you screwing her?"

"No."

Doug smiled. "Do you want to?"

James fisted his hands. "That would be wrong."

Doug lifted a brow. "Impressive dodge, now answer the question."

"Yes."

Doug laughed. "Unrequited love. How sad."

"Hardly. We just met. She's attractive. I speculate you would also want to screw an attractive woman you just met." If Doug wanted to be crude, James could play that game.

Doug grunted. "Good point, though I'm wondering... can you?"

"The only thing I lack is a heartbeat."

"And a soul."

James let the hound rise to the surface.

"What are you doing, dead man?"

"Memorizing _your_ soul. That'll make it easier to find. Later."

"You don't scare me."

"Then you're dumber than I thought."

Doug continued to watch him, a growing smile dimpling his cheeks. "Well played, grim. You're no dumb animal." Oddly, the compliment seemed sincere.

Footsteps pounded down the hall, and they both turned as Elysia rounded the corner. She skidded to a stop, glancing between them, then turned her frown on Doug. "What are you doing?"

"I found him wandering the halls. I was returning him to you."

Her frown didn't lift. "Thank you, but that isn't necessary."

"Have you bound him so tightly? You do know that he can travel to other dimensions and reenter the mortal plane hundreds of miles away?"

Her brows rose, and she turned to James. "Is that true?"

"Yes." James struggled to keep his expression neutral. Would she forbid him to travel?

"You're so trusting, Ely." Doug gave her a fond smile, then offered her a hand. "Send the dead guy to his room and take a walk with me?"

Elysia hesitated, then to James's surprise, she took Doug's hand. Her eyes lifted to James's, but she didn't give him a command.

"So trusting," Doug repeated and led her away.

James watched them go, then turned toward his room. She trusted him. Guilt squirmed through his gut at the thought of sneaking out. She would support his decision to go free, but her hatred of alchemists made him leery of telling her his plans. Better to ask forgiveness after than to have her deny him seeing Addie entirely.

He opened the door to his room and stepped inside. Like the rest of the house, the room looked as if it had been decorated decades ago with its heavy, antique furniture and faded linens. There was an elegance to it, but the peeling wallpaper and thread-bare rug made it clear that no money remained for the upkeep. No doubt, Elysia saw that, too.

But that wasn't his problem.

He removed his boots, then pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it on the four-poster bed. His jeans, socks, and underwear followed. He called the hound, but hesitated before shifting form. Walls were not a deterrent to the hound's sight, only distance. He had no trouble picking out Elysia and Doug among the others in the big house. Elysia's soul was a blinding sun beside Doug's dazzling star. It appeared they had left the building for the garden out back.

James frowned when they came to a halt and Doug moved closer to her. He did not trust the big necromancer. What Elysia had ever seen in him, he had no idea.

Dropping to all fours, James slipped into the space between the mortal realm and the next. No more than a ghost in this world, he stepped through the walls and physical boundaries until he stood within the garden.

"So, will you help me?" Elysia asked Doug, her voice carrying easily from the other side of the gazebo where the pair stood.

"Free the grim? Only you would ask such a thing." Doug chuckled.

James stopped, his ears pricked forward, listening. He had come here to protect her, not to eavesdrop, but he couldn't deny his interest in this conversation.

"Your grandmother will be disappointed," Doug continued. "You know he's the reason she called me up here."

"Yes."

"That's not why I came."

"Doug."

"Come on, Ely. I've done everything you've asked. Are you ever going to give me an answer?"

Elysia moved a few steps away from him. "You don't love me, Doug. Not the way you love your family."

"You've been alone too long. We're necromancers; family is everything. I want you to be part of mine." The man actually sounded sincere.

James shifted his weight from paw to paw. He knew he should go, but couldn't seem to make himself.

"What about the curse?" Elysia asked. "I've only got four years left."

"Ely." Doug closed the distance between them. "You've got to let that go. There is no curse, only an ancestry of powerful necromancers who didn't have your strength. Hell's blood, my own aunt went stark raving mad. It happens."

"That's not a helpful argument."

"Perhaps not. But she was nothing like you." Doug sighed. "Come on, say yes."

Elysia took a breath and James braced himself.

"Okay."

James closed his eyes.

"You'll marry me?" Doug sounded surprised.

"On one condition," she said. "I want James to go free. As free as I found him."

"I don't think you fully comprehend what the grim represents."

"He's a sentient being who deserves to live the life of his choosing."

"He's dead."

"So? You're just disappointed that you won't be presenting him to your father."

"You need to think about this."

"I have. So what's it to be? Him or me?"

"You, clearly," Doug answered without hesitation, "but I might not be able to accomplish this."

"I've stumped the Deacon's heir?"

He must have pulled her to him, because they stood very close. "I haven't admitted defeat. Let me make a few calls."

"Very well."

He didn't move away, and by the sound of things, James suspected Doug had kissed her.

He turned and paced along the edge of the gazebo, waiting for the big necromancer to leave. It was several minutes before he did. James lifted his lips in silent disgust and glared at Doug's back as he walked into the house.

"I thought you were going for a run," Elysia said into the silence.

James turned to face her. Doug hadn't sensed him. How had she?

She walked through the gazebo to join him and stopped a few feet away. "I can't see you, but I feel... the bond."

Of course, the bond. Interesting. Could he elude necromancers this way? Well, all necromancers except her. He dropped back into the mortal plane.

Elysia gasped. To her, he probably appeared out of thin air. "Doug was right. You can leave this world."

James swished his tail a couple of times in agreement.

"It's hard to hold a conversation like this. Get dressed. I'll meet you in your room."

James barely heard her last line as he was already traveling to his room. His paws no sooner hit the rug than he was human and pulling on his clothes. "Idiot," he muttered, stepping into his jeans. He should have gone to Addie. There was no way he could trust his freedom to Doug. The guy would take him for himself, or give him to his father. James shuddered as he imagined being soul-bound to either of them. He had never met Xander, but he had heard enough about him from Addie to prefer to keep it that way.

A knock sounded at his door. Elysia had wasted no time.

He picked up his T-shirt. "Come in."

She let herself in the room, then leaned against the closed door. "Eavesdropping?"

"I didn't set out to, but once I found you, I couldn't leave. I don't trust him." He pulled the shirt over his head.

She lifted a brow, though her eyes followed his movements.

He tugged the shirt into place. "I don't want you to give up your freedom to secure mine."

"It's not like that." She pushed off the door and walked to the window, turning her back on him. "I think I've always known I'd end up marrying him."

"Is that why you ran away from the necro world?"

"I didn't run away." She spoke the words with heat, then seemed to collect herself. She ran a hand along the faded curtain. "I wanted a... normal life."

"You mean a mundane life."

"I guess." She continued to toy with the curtain. "What must it be like to just live? To not worry about your magic driving you mad?"

He stopped behind her. "I don't know. You lost me on the part where you just _live_."

She bowed her head. "Sorry."

They stood in silence for a few minutes. "Do you love the guy?" James asked.

She smiled. "Does it matter?"

"I think it should."

She turned to face him. "And you feel it's your place to advise me? I assume you've never been in a relationship where you weren't head-over-heels in love with the other person."

He didn't answer.

"Well?"

"I'm dead."'

"Yes, and...?"

The old anger rose up. "And how the hell is that supposed to work?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure I follow you. Because you're dead you can't love?"

He turned away. He hadn't meant to go there, but he couldn't take the words back now. "Never mind. Just drop it."

Her hand came to rest on his back. "It's not that you can't, it's that you won't."

"It's not important." He turned to face her, determined to get the conversation back on track. "We were talking about you... and Doug. If you've put yourself in this situation because of me—"

"I told you, that's not it. This is something I have to do. Don't make it harder on me."

James sighed. "I think he's right. You put too much stock in this curse. It hasn't struck you down, yet you're living like it has."

"You're allowed to be cursed."

"I think our situations are a little different."

"I don't see how."

James called the hound as close as he dared, then held up a hand, displaying the ebony claws sprouting from his fingertips. "I am cursed, you may or may not be. Yet you let it rule you."

"And you don't, Mr. I-Can't-Love?"

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"No. I think you're selling yourself short."

He caught her wrist, noting the soft intake of breath as his claws lightly brushed her skin, and pressed her palm to his chest. "How am I supposed to explain this? Look, love, no heartbeat. I won't age; I won't die, because I'm already dead. Yes, that's right, you're in love with a corpse. That'll be a hell of a thing to dump on someone."

He expected an outburst, or an impassioned rant about how it wouldn't be like that—an argument Addie often made. Instead, she took a step toward him and pressed her forehead to his cheek.

"Couple of screwed up individuals," she whispered, repeating her words from earlier.

Her reaction silenced him. She agreed: expecting a woman to accept what he was was foolish. No one had ever agreed with him on this point. They always wanted to sugarcoat it, argue that the right woman wouldn't care that he was dead. He expected to feel relief, instead her agreement... hurt.

She lifted her head, but didn't speak. A pause, then she looked down at where he still held her hand against his chest. He started to release her when her other hand settled on top of his. She lightly traced the knuckle of his index finger, sliding her finger down to the clawed tip.

"Careful," he said. "You'll cut yourself."

She stopped, her finger resting against his cuticle, and lifted her eyes to his. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and lifted his hand. Then shocked him by bringing his hand to her lips, planting a kiss on an ebony cuticle. "Will you heal me if I do?"

"Yes."

She didn't look away, and her eyes faded to white as she sank more of herself into him. She took a step closer, and the hand over his heart slid down to his stomach. Opening her mouth, she wrapped it around his finger, letting the claw rest across her tongue.

His breath came quicker, already anticipating the aroma, the flavor. He had warned her that he wouldn't walk away the next time she offered her blood, and here she was, deliberately planning to cut herself. He wanted to speak, to make certain she remembered his words.

She lifted her light-brown eyes to his once more. The hand on his stomach slid down to grip the waistband of his jeans, her knuckles brushing against his stomach.

His breath caught, and he was keenly aware of the bed only a few paces away.

A knock on his door caused them both to jump. Fortunately, Elysia opened her mouth before pulling away.

"Hey, dead man," Doug shouted through the door. "Have you seen Elysia?"

"Your fiancé is knocking," James whispered.

She held his gaze. "I still think you're selling yourself short. Some women just want a good man."

He blinked. She hadn't agreed?

She turned and walked away. He watched her go, not sure what had just happened.

She stopped before the door, and took a deep breath before she pulled it open. "I'm here," she said to Doug.

He frowned, eyeing her before his attention turned to James.

"What is it?" Elysia asked, drawing Doug's gaze to her.

"I might have found a solution." He gestured with his phone. "I have a guy who can help."

"Who is it?"

"You've never met him."

"It's not your father, is it?"

"No." Doug gave her a frown before continuing. "I could drive you down this morning. Maybe we can have this resolved by this afternoon."

"Seriously? He can free James?" Elysia gripped his forearm. "Where does he live?"

"Cincinnati. Shall we go?"

James watched the exchange, unease crawling along his spine. Cincinnati, where the Deacon lived... and Addie.

"Yes, let's go." Elysia looked over her shoulder and gave James a big grin.

# Chapter Nine

The ride was uneventful, and the back seat of Doug's Mercedes was considerably roomier than the front seat of Elysia's compact. Even so, James would have preferred to be sitting with his knees beneath his chin than going anywhere with the Deacon's son.

Doug and Elysia entertained themselves reminiscing about their collective past. If she hadn't told James that they had once been engaged, he suspected he would have figured it out. Especially after Doug's detailed recollection of a hot tub he and Elysia once shared. She had smacked his arm on that one, her cheeks flushing. James didn't miss the smirk Doug gave him in the rearview mirror. James wasn't sure why the guy saw him as competition. As far as Doug was concerned, Elysia hadn't shown any interest in James aside from wanting to free him.

The drive took them to downtown Cincinnati where Doug parked outside a large brick building. A sign mounted on the wall proclaimed it the City Morgue.

"You work here, right?" Elysia asked when Doug shut off the engine.

"On a part-time basis. It has a nice lab."

"A lab?" James asked.

Elysia twisted around to look at him. "Doug is a forensic pathologist." She returned her attention to her fellow necromancer. "Your friend works here, too?"

"He's been here a few weeks." Doug opened his door. "Let's go see what he's come up with."

They all climbed out and followed Doug into the building. The lady at the front desk looked up and gave Doug a smile before waving them through. James wondered at the lax security until the girl's faded blue eyes settled on him, and he felt the light brush of her touch. Necromancer. He chided himself for not considering it. Any business that dealt with the dead—even those run by the city—was probably under the Deacon's control.

Doug led them down an unadorned hall to a pair of double doors. James hesitated. Something felt... off. He called the hound in an attempt to better understand the feeling.

"Stop that, dead man." Doug's power slammed into him and the hound fled.

James pulled in a breath, surprised by the way the hound had reacted.

"Doug, don't." Elysia frowned.

"He was doing something. Probably about to run."

Elysia gave James a questioning look.

"Something's wrong," he told her.

"What do you mean?"

Doug rolled his eyes. "He's in a building full of corpses and necromancers. He would probably piss down his leg—if he could."

James glared at Doug's back as he led them through the double doors.

"Sorry," Elysia whispered. "Keep the goal in mind."

James gritted his teeth and followed her into the room. He had only gone a few yards when a clank sounded, followed by a soft hissing noise. A white fog billowed up, surrounding them. James caught a whiff of alchemical Knockout Gas and held his breath.

Doug slumped to the floor, his head thumping against the tile. Elysia stumbled and James sprang forward, catching her before she fell. He lowered her to the floor, then stepped back and called the hound. His other form wasn't susceptible to alchemic fogs. The world came alive and—

Something cold settled around his throat and snapped shut. His senses winked out. James gasped, inadvertently sucking in a lungful of Knockout Gas. He reached up to grip the collar. Iron. He had been locked in iron—a grim's kryptonite.

He whirled to face his captor and almost tripped over his own feet. Darkness encroached on his vision as a form stepped out of the fog.

James tried to force a growl through his human throat, but the sound of his knees smacking the tile drowned it out. Black robes filled his darkening vision. A master alchemist's robes, but it wasn't Addie.

"So good to see you again, James."

Lifting his head, James stared into the white eyes of Neil Dunstan, Addie's former colleague and the necromancer who'd held him captive once before. It seemed Doug had betrayed them.

James curled his lip, but could do nothing else before he slid into oblivion.

James woke with a headache that wasn't helped by the raised voices only a few feet away.

"...no excuse. You could have warned me," Doug said.

"I couldn't chance it, Nelson. Stop whining. The only thing hurt is your pride."

James turned his head to see Neil and Doug standing to his right, their backs to him. Beyond them, mortuary drawers lined the tiled wall. That explained the cold metal surface beneath him. He lay on one of the autopsy tables in the center of the room.

"She wasn't going to try anything," Doug continued. "If she had, I would have simply taken him from her."

Elysia. Doug was talking about Elysia. Where was she? James wanted to sit up and look around, but didn't want to alert Neil and Doug that he was awake. He preferred to listen without their knowledge.

"I would rather err on the side of caution." Neil turned around.

James closed his eyes and listened to the two men move closer.

"Amazing, isn't he?" Neil stood over him now. "The culmination of alchemy and necromancy. Life and death in one."

"He's a permanently animated corpse that doesn't rot. Get on with it."

Neil sighed and moved away from James's table. "You can't give him to your father."

"Why not?" Doug followed him.

James chanced another peek and saw that they'd stopped beside a cluttered cart that held an assortment of lab paraphernalia, syringes, and discarded gloves.

"If you give your father the grim, he won't be able to resist showing him off." Neil sorted through the items on the cart as he spoke. "That's bound to cause all sorts of problems—especially with New Magic. No one would want the Deacon to have that kind of power."

"Whatever. This discussion is moot if you can't dissolve the soul bond that binds the grim to my fiancée."

Neil looked up. "Charming, Doug."

" _She_ asked to set him free."

"Bizarre."

"Can you do it?"

In answer, Neil selected a vial from the cart and showed it to Doug. "Have her drink this and the grim will be free."

"What does it do?"

"It will knock out her power."

"Are you nuts? She's too strong. That will kill her."

"I have an antidote—once the bond has dissolved. It'll hurt, but she won't die. And I can give her some advice on how to avoid going mad."

Doug sighed. "She may ultimately need that anyway."

"Considering who she is, true. You're playing with fire on this one. Does your father approve?"

"I've never mentioned her to him."

Neil didn't say anything, leaving James to wonder at his expression.

"How long will it take the bond to dissolve?" Doug asked.

James fisted his hands. The bastard was actually going to do it.

"On the average necromancer, I'd say a day or less. On her? I have no idea."

Doug released a breath.

"Do you love her so much or is it the prospect of the impossibly talented little necromancers she might give you?"

"You're twisted, Dunstan."

"Well, yes."

"What about the grim?" Doug asked.

"We'll decide once the bond is dissolved."

A pause. "Very well. You better not let me down."

"Never." Neil was smiling.

"Come, wake her." Doug's footfalls moved away before leaving the room entirely.

"Be right there." Neil called. His footsteps stopped beside James's table. "What do you think? I thought that went well."

James opened his eyes and met Neil's white gaze. "You don't have an antidote, do you?"

Neil smiled. "Of course not. The moment her power returned, you would be hers again." He turned his head toward the door, then shook his head before turning back to James. "Dear Doug has no idea what he's dealing with."

"Are you referring to Elysia or you?"

Neil chuckled, then gave him a wink. "Both."

"Doug won't like it."

"Let me worry about Doug." Neil smirked, then turned and left the room, chuckling to himself.

# Chapter Ten

Elysia rolled onto her side, the surface beneath her cheek cold and unyielding, like she lay on a sheet of metal. She tried to open her eyes, but the bright light sent a jolt of pain through her temples. A hand settled on her shoulder.

"Here, let me." Doug slipped his hand beneath her arm, helping her sit up.

"God, my head hurts." She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the throbbing.

"It'll pass," Doug said. "I've been awake about five minutes, and my headache's nearly gone."

She squinted her eyes, taking her first look at the room around her. Her gaze skimmed over the tiled walls and floor, the mortuary drawers, and the cold steel table she sat on. She had been lying in the morgue.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I owe you an apology," a new voice said from the doorway. A man in black robes stood on the threshold, but he began to walk toward her when she looked in his direction. "I had only meant to knock out the grim. A precaution." He smiled as he spoke, his white eyes meeting hers.

"Who are you?"

"Ely, this is Neil," Doug spoke for the man. "Neil Dunstan. He's always been a bit paranoid."

"Paranoid?" Neil crossed his arms, though the smirk he wore suggested it was mock anger he displayed. The sleeves of his robes were split at the shoulder, designed to fall away with the movement and reveal tattooed black bands encircling each of his biceps.

Elysia stiffened as she recognized the tattoos and the robes. "You're an alchemist." And not any alchemist. Neil was an Alchemica alchemist, the worst of the worst.

Neil gave her a puzzled look. "Well, yes. Didn't Doug mention that?"

"No, he didn't." Elysia gave Doug a frown.

"I knew you wouldn't approve." Doug shrugged. "But you've got to realize, the best I could personally do was take the bond from you—and I'm not so sure that would work. You're too strong."

"He's right," Neil said.

"His power might not work, but he does know what he's talking about."

"Thank you for the condescension." Neil's dark brows shadowed his white eyes.

Elysia studied the man. His eyes weren't white because he was a weak necro who had recently used his magic. He was stunted: a necromancer without the ability to use his magic. Considering that he appeared to be entering middle age, there was a very good chance he was insane.

She slid off the table and headed for the door.

"Does this mean she doesn't want to free the grim?" Neil asked.

"Elysia wait." Doug came after her, stepping into her path before she reached the door. "You're leaving?"

"Why didn't you tell me he was an alchemist?"

"I explained that. Look I'm sorry. He's not a bad guy."

"My headache says differently."

"Okay, I didn't expect him to gas us."

"I have apologized." Neil walked over to them. He held out a small capped bottle—no, not a bottle, a vial. The clear liquid inside was a soft shade of pink. "This will free the grim, but there is a side effect."

Elysia eyed him and his vial. "And that is?"

"To allow the bond to dissolve, we'll have to knock out your power."

She sucked in a breath. "What?" The man _was_ insane.

"He has an antidote that will return it once the grim... James is free."

"Where is James?"

"I've kept him sedated while the two of you were out." Neil gave them a sheepish look. "I couldn't have stopped him if he woke first."

"See, paranoid," Doug said.

"Practical." Neil faced her. "I'm sorry, but I can't think of any other way to accomplish this. And believe me when I tell you that this is the last thing I'd wish on any necromancer."

Elysia frowned. The guy didn't sound crazy. "How long will it take the bond to dissolve?"

Neil glanced at Doug before answering. "With the average necro, I'd say a day, maybe less."

"And me?" She knew she was anything but average.

"I can't say." Neil placed a hand on her shoulder, his white eyes meeting hers. "But I can help you through it." He gave her shoulder a squeeze and released it. "I honestly don't understand why you want to free him, but that's your choice. I'm here if you need me." He handed Doug the vial, and with a nod to her, turned and left the room.

Elysia met Doug's gaze.

"You don't have to do this. I can't see how being bound to you is any hardship for... James." Doug seemed to be making an effort to treat James like a person.

"I know you're thinking that I could let him go on his way, but that wouldn't make it right. In a sense, he's immortal. I took that away from him. Worse, he'll be lucky to see another decade."

"Would you please stop talking like that. You are _not_ cursed."

Why would Doug not even consider the possibility. James, at least, allowed that it was possible. And she would bet that Neil would buy into it wholeheartedly. Hell, the man was an Alchemica alchemist.

She shook her head. "I can't believe you took me to an alchemist."

"A master alchemist." Doug placed the vial in her hand, then closed his fingers over hers. "He knows his trade."

She released a breath. "I don't trust alchemists."

"Because of the supposed actions of one centuries ago. Necromancers get a bad rap, too, but you know we're not evil."

"True." She uncurled her fingers to study the vial. Did she dare put her trust in an alchemist? "Am I crazy to consider this?"

"Binding James is clearly plaguing you. And I suspect for you to be happy, you have to at least try to free him."

"You're right." She couldn't condemn James to only a few more years of life.

"I know you, El." Doug pressed his palm to her cheek. "And while we wait for the bond to dissolve, you can stay with me. I'll help you through this."

She swallowed. She had to try—for James. A twist of the cap, and she downed the contents before she could think better of it. She expected it to taste like medicine, or maybe burn like whiskey; instead it was like she had swallowed a shot of Novocain. Her tongue went numb, then her throat. The potion reached her stomach and flowed outward. Her vision darkened, and the scent of Doug's expensive cologne faded.

"Elysia?" Doug sounded far away. "Hey—"

The numbness shrouded her mind.

Arms encircled her, and she was lifted from her feet. Doug. "Where—"

"Home," he said. "I'm taking you home."

Doug's townhouse lay on a quiet, tree-lined street close enough to be convenient to downtown, but not so close that the noise and bustle invaded the space. The floor plan was open and the walls lined with windows, especially in the back of the house. Elysia was certain she would have been more impressed if she wasn't struggling to hold herself together. It had only been two days since she had taken Neil's potion, but it felt like two weeks.

She stepped through the French doors onto the cobbled patio behind the townhouse, determined to escape the gloom inside and enjoy the unusually warm day. The sun's brightness hurt her eyes, and the rays seared her cheeks. She turned to flee into the house, but stopped herself.

This was wrong. It was February. A warm sunny day should be a reprieve. A balm on the soul. She closed her eyes and tipped up her face, trying to capture that feeling.

Nothing. Her skin felt too tight, as if trying to contain an essence that had always flown free.

"You can do this," she said.

_Do this,_ the wind whispered.

She shook her head. The whispers had started yesterday afternoon. Sometimes, she deciphered the occasional word, but most of the time, it was nothing more than background noise. She hadn't told Doug, but it was only a matter of time. It was getting worse.

The bond had to fail soon. Her power was locked down within her body. Unable to escape. How could it possibly still hold James within its grasp.

"James." His name escaped on a gasp, the bond springing to life and doubling her over with a mix of pain and pleasure. Through the haze, she wondered if James had felt that in his hotel room, wherever that was. Doug had promised to supply him with lodging until this was finished. She had insisted. She wanted to tell him goodbye once this was over, and make sure he returned to Athens unharmed. But for now, she stayed away from him, hoping the bond would dissolve more quickly. It wasn't helping.

She gripped her thighs, slowly releasing a breath as the sensation of his presence faded into the now familiar numbness.

"Ely!" The French doors slammed and hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her upright before crushing her against a wide chest. The scent of Doug's cologne assailed her sensitive nose, making her want to gag. She pushed away from him and took a step back.

"It's not working. I can still feel the bond."

_The bond?_ The wind sounded puzzled.

She resisted the urge to plug her ears.

"Ely?"

"I want the antidote."

"It's only been forty-eight hours. It seems a shame to quit after you've endured this long. I asked Neil to brew something for the pain."

Invisible fingers brushed her cheek. A spider web? She rubbed at the sensation. Wasn't it the wrong time of year for spiders?

"I can handle the pain," she said. Once past the initial shock of not being able to relieve the pressure, the pain had settled into a dull ache, not unlike a stubborn sinus headache.

Doug touched her shoulder, the weight of his hand heavy against her skin.

She took another step away from him, and her back bumped the plate-glass window at the same time something crunched underfoot. She took a hasty step to the side and looked down. A bright red cardinal lay on the ground at her feet.

"It's dead," she said.

"I moved the bird feeder farther out into the yard, but they still occasionally hit the glass."

She looked up at the window and saw her own reflection. Her white eyes stared back at her. "I can't feel it," she admitted. She should have felt it from the next street over, but the dead bird lay at her feet, and she hadn't felt a thing.

"Then there's no way you can feel the bond."

She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his bright blue gaze. "What are you saying?"

He looked away. He did that a lot these days. Would there come a day when he wouldn't look at her at all?

"You're going to be fine. Another day, maybe two, and the bond will fail."

Two days? She didn't want to think about enduring two more hours.

He pulled his keys from his pocket.

"Where are you going?"

"Father called. He needs my help with something."

"But—" She couldn't tell him she didn't want to be alone. That the whispers plagued her more when he wasn't around.

"I won't be gone long." He lifted a hand toward her cheek, and she took a hasty step back.

"I'm sorry," she said, catching the hurt look in his eyes. "My skin... it feels bruised."

He held her gaze for a moment, then sighed. "I've got to go, Ely." He returned to the house, leaving her alone in the backyard.

_Soon,_ the wind reassured her, then tugged at her hair.

Elysia stared at the dead bird. It couldn't be soon enough.

She hurried inside. Maybe she would watch some TV—and turn up the volume. Anything to drown out the whispers.

Doug's overstuffed couch and the drone of the TV were a deadly combination. Elysia couldn't keep her eyes open. She had gotten little sleep the past two nights, and now it caught up with her. The buzz of the TV faded into the background.

Dreams of surreal landscapes and sibilant whispers plagued her. It wasn't the dim red landscape of her recurring dream, but it had a similar feel. She soon found herself running, trying to escape a whispering pursuer.

Darting across a street of red cobblestone, she stepped beneath a wrought-iron arch and found a sprawling cemetery. Leafless trees and ancient headstones dotted the rolling hills that stretched as far as she could see.

To most, a cemetery was a place to be avoided. It was a place of horrors and nightmares. To Elysia, it represented peace and rest. A respite from pain and tension. But not tonight.

She reached out, but all the graves were empty. Gaping holes in front of the weathered tombstones bore witness to the theft of the dead.

The whispers drew closer, crowding behind her just outside the iron arch. She stumbled forward. The thief hadn't taken everything. Something still remained. Something that called to her. Her solace. Her savior.

Empty graves stretched for miles, and it seemed she had walked every one of them, searching each empty hole.

_Elysia_. The whisper was right behind her. She whirled, expecting a nightmare, and found... nothing. Darkness had swallowed the empty cemetery she had just crossed.

She stumbled, trying to escape the whispering darkness. Her next step met nothing but empty air, and she screamed as she tumbled backward into the open grave.

Strong arms embraced her before she hit the ground. "Easy. I have you," a male voice said.

She turned to face him and cried out in relief. "James!" She threw her arms around his neck. "I've searched everywhere."

"I know." He leaned down and took her mouth with his own, a growl in his throat and sharp teeth nipping her lips.

She pressed closer to him, reveling in the taste of him, the feel of his warm hands over her bare skin, the bite of his claws.

He growled her name, low and seductive, and the muscles beneath her navel tightened.

She wanted to answer, but a metallic rattle silenced her. It sounded like chains. She looked down and, for the first time, saw the heavy iron shackles around his raw wrists. When she looked back up, she noticed the collar of the same gray metal around his throat. A chain stretched from the collar, vanishing into the darkness behind him.

"They've bound me. Will you free me?"

"But the whispers."

"Be brave." The voice was no longer his, but the cloaked woman's from her dreams. "I won't let him win."

Elysia sat up with a gasp. She was on Doug's leather couch in his upscale townhouse. His big screen blaring a news report. She swung her feet to the floor and leaned forward to brace her elbows on her thighs. Exhaling, she rubbed the back of her sweat-dampened neck. Her skin still felt tight and warm. Even so, she remembered his touch and shivered. As if she wasn't tormented enough, having semi-erotic dreams about James wasn't helping.

She rubbed her hands over the hot skin of her face and straightened. Her eyes settled on the TV and she gasped. The screen showed a pair of brown-robed necromancers standing with a news reporter. Both had their hoods up, hiding their faces. Like the leaders of New Magic, those who found themselves in the public eye favored hooded robes to conceal their identity and preserve their privacy.

"... no reason for concern," one man said. "But I will get to the bottom of it."

"No reason for concern? Sir, the hospital staff claimed she had no knowledge of having been Made."

"That's highly unlikely," the other man said.

Elysia straightened. The other man was Doug. And the first man was most likely his father, the Deacon. Was this what he had been called away to do?

"But this necromancer is out there now," the reporter insisted. "What if he Makes someone else?"

"Impossible," the Deacon said. "Such necromancers are the stuff of legend and fairy tales. The extremely rare individual who possesses the talent, might make one, maybe two liches in his entire lifetime."

Elysia lifted a brow. That wasn't accurate. Well, perhaps it was true for those necromancers with barely enough juice to make a lich, but she knew Doug had more than enough strength to create as many liches as he chose in his lifetime. And she had to assume his father was the same. Granted, they couldn't create a lich with only the power of their blood, but the Deacon was definitely sugarcoating things for this interview.

"Why so few?" the reporter asked.

"To Make is to give of yourself. Give too much and you cease to be."

"It kills the necromancer?"

"To put it in layman's terms." There was a smile in the Deacon's voice.

The reporter responded with a smile of her own. "Thank you, Deacon. You've put my mind at ease."

"It's no problem, Natalie. I'm glad to have the opportunity to dispel the degrading rumors about my kind. I am—"

A crash sounded from the kitchen and Elysia jerked around to look over the back of the couch. "Doug?" Was he back? Perhaps the interview had been recorded, or this was a rerun. How long had she slept?

Elysia came to her feet at the sound of breaking glass and instinctively reached out with her senses. Still groggy from the nap, she had forgotten that nothing worked. The numbness pulled a soft gasp from her.

Another small sound from the kitchen drew her attention away from her magical problems. Unless Doug had acquired a cat she was unaware of, there was someone in the house.

On tiptoe, Elysia crept to the stone fireplace and the wrought iron rack of fire tools on the hearth. Careful not to make any noise—no more than she already had—she withdrew the poker. Metal scraped lightly against metal. The sound seemed loud to her ears, but the soft noises continued in the kitchen.

Elysia gripped the poker, the iron cold against her palm, and crept across the plush rug to the kitchen door. She didn't want to call the police only to find out Doug _did_ have a cat, or a cleaning lady. Leaning against the wall beside the kitchen door, she peeked inside. A woman knelt beside the French doors, gathering the pieces from a broken pane.

For a moment, Elysia entertained the hope that she really was a cleaning lady—except, the backyard was inaccessible from the street, and this woman was wearing a bathrobe. The woman reached out a hand for the next piece of glass and stopped in mid-motion. Slowly, she rose to her feet and turned to face Elysia as if she had known she was being watched.

Elysia pressed a hand to her mouth. The thin robe covered a hospital gown decorated in pink and blue teddy bears. It was the girl from the convenience store.

# Chapter Eleven

"I tried to knock." The girl gestured with the broken glass she held. "But it broke."

Elysia lowered the poker and stepped into the room. "That's okay." Her voice quivered and she stopped to swallow.

The girl gave her a hesitant nod, then laid the broken glass on a nearby counter. When she turned back, her expression was still uncertain. "You were there, at the store, with him."

"I was." Elysia gripped the poker tighter as the girl took a step toward her. She didn't seem to be here for malicious purposes, but Elysia _was_ the one responsible for Making her.

"So, where is he?" the girl asked. "I thought he called me here."

"Who?"

"The werewolf."

James. She was talking about James.

"Did he bite me or something?" the girl asked. "I don't remember what happened."

"What do you remember?"

"Those guys with the guns, and your friend becoming the wolf. There were gunshots and the next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital. They had to take my son, early, then everyone freaked out because I was awake and all the monitors said I was dead."

"Your son?" Elysia schooled her features, trying not to let her apprehension show.

"He's in the NICU, but they wouldn't tell me more."

Elysia slumped in relief. Oh God, it had worked. The baby had lived.

"Guys in suits showed up," the girl continued. "I think they were PIA."

Elysia frowned. The Paranormal Investigation Agency was the police force for all things magical. It was never good to draw their attention.

"Then I overheard them say they were going to call the necromancers." The girl crossed her arms, hugging herself. "I got out of there quick."

This was the girl who had escaped the hospital, the one Doug and his dad had given the interview about. What happened when they found out that Elysia had Made her? The Deacon had rules about lich making, but she had never paid them close attention because she had never intended to make one. What kind of trouble would she be in for not only making one, but causing a public outcry over it?

"Why did you come here?" Elysia asked.

"I felt... compelled to." She shrugged. "That's the best I can describe it."

Elysia frowned. This made no sense. She hadn't summoned the girl.

"What happened to your eyes?" the girl asked. "I don't remember them that way before. Did he do something to you, too?"

"No. What's your name?"

"Kari." Her brow wrinkled. "Is he here?"

"No. This... compulsion you sense is from me." Apparently. Elysia had no idea how that could work when her power was locked away.

"From you?" The girl, Kari, took a step back. "Do you know what happened to me?"

"Yes." Elysia met her gaze. This wasn't going to be easy. "One of the bullets hit you and... you were dying. Your soul was leaving your body."

"How did you know?" Kari whispered.

Elysia ignored the question, forcing herself to continue. "To keep your baby alive until help could arrive, I bound your soul to your body."

"What do you mean?"

It was best to come right out and say it. "I made you a lich."

Kari stood straighter. "Isn't that some kind of zombie?"

"No. Zombies are just bodies, animated by... a necromancer."

Kari stared at her. "You're a necromancer."

"Yes."

"Oh God." Kari turned toward the door, ready to flee.

"Wait!"

Kari froze. "Why can't I move?"

Elysia stiffened. Commanding her to stop had been instinctive; logically, it shouldn't have worked. She walked over to stand in front of her. "I'm sorry, but—"

"Why can't I move?" Kari stared at her with wide eyes.

"Because you're dead," Elysia whispered, "and I gave you a command."

A single tear tracked down Kari's cheek. In a week's time, she would lose that ability as her body gradually died and the fluids dried up. Though most of the internal fluids would remain for months, slowly rotting along with the organs, and eventually the flesh.

Elysia swallowed in an effort to keep her churning stomach from expelling her breakfast. The horror of being sentenced to eternity as a rotting corpse. And _she_ had done this.

"I'm so sorry, but if I'd let you die naturally, I didn't think the ambulance could get there in time to save your baby." Elysia took a breath and forced herself to continue. "I should have followed up on what happened to you, but I had other problems and... No, that doesn't make it right."

Kari stared at her. "Did you sell my soul to the devil?"

"No! Necromancers aren't satanic." Why did people always assume that? "It's a form of magic, that's all."

"But—"

"Yes, I have the ability to animate the dead. It's not a popular party trick, but I was born this way. I didn't make any deals with the dark one to possess this power. The truth is, my life would be a lot simpler if I was talentless."

Kari frowned, her expression apprehensive, yet thoughtful.

Elysia sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't snap at you. You've been through hell and have no idea why. I've had a bad week myself."

Kari eyed her. "What's a bad week for a necromancer?"

"I accidentally soul-bound a grim and put myself under an alchemist's influence. I took a potion to knock out my power so I could free the grim."

Kari's brows rose.

"It isn't working," Elysia said.

"What's a grim?"

"You've met him." Elysia continued when Kari gave her a puzzled look. "My friend, your werewolf—except he's not a werewolf. He's a hellhound."

"And you're not satanic."

Elysia almost smiled at the sarcasm. "He has the ability to shape shift into one of the guardians of the land of the dead. The hellhound moniker is a carryover from centuries past."

Kari stared at her, and Elysia realized that she was probably overloading the poor girl with information.

Elysia laid the poker on the counter beside the broken glass and rubbed both hands over her face. God, what had she been thinking? She made the girl a lich then abandoned her? What a shitty thing to do.

"Are you okay?" Kari asked.

Elysia dropped her hands, surprised by the question. Kari had been made a lich, had an infant in intensive care, and she was inquiring after her Maker's well-being? It was time to suck it up, and take some responsibility.

"Thank you. I'll be okay," Elysia said.

_Will you?_

Elysia ignored the whisper and offered Kari her hand. "I'm Elysia."

Kari gave her a tentative smile and placed her cool hand in Elysia's. "Like the Elysian Fields? You were named for the Greek heaven?"

"Necromancers are an odd lot."

Kari's smile grew.

"I can't undo this," Elysia admitted.

"Because I died?"

"Yes."

Kari released a shaky breath. "But you didn't kill me; you tried to save me."

"Save your baby. Making someone into a lich is not an act of compassion." Elysia stopped. She had overwhelmed Kari with enough information for now. Later, she would explain that her body would continue to rot. But not now.

"I see it as one." Kari smiled.

"Thank you." What a mess.

"Will you help me find out how my baby's doing? Maybe get in to see him?"

"I'll certainly try."

The phone rang before Elysia could say more. She walked to the counter and saw Doug's name on the caller ID. She picked up the phone.

"Ely?" Doug sounded relieved. "I'm going to be later than expected. Father needs my help with something."

"The problem at the hospital?"

"How—"

"I saw the broadcast."

"Of course." It sounded like he smiled. "Father is pissed. If there really is a lich, someone violated the ban."

"The ban?"

"All Makings must go through the Deacon's office. It always struck me as an obsolete rule, but I now understand the pandemonium that can ensue if it is ignored." He sighed. "This is such a mess."

Elysia glanced at Kari. Yes, it was.

"I'll be home as quick as I can. Are you okay?"

"As good as can be expected."

"Hang in there. It'll be over soon."

"I hope so." She bid Doug farewell and returned the phone to the charging cradle. She turned to face Kari. The girl gave her a questioning look, her hands gripped in front of her. Doug didn't believe that Elysia could still feel the bond with James, but here stood evidence that Elysia's power was still functioning on some level. The problem was, she couldn't tell Doug and risk exposing what she had done. He had always been hesitant about introducing her to his father, claiming his father was very selective about who his boys dated. This incident would not improve Elysia's standing in his eyes. It might even deny her family their much-needed assistance. But it was clear to her that Neil's alchemical solution wasn't working.

"What is it?" Kari asked, no doubt wondering why Elysia was just standing there.

"I need to go somewhere." Neil. She needed to tell him that his potion hadn't worked. To _show_ him that his potion hadn't worked.

"And my baby?"

"I haven't forgotten. Let me take care of this first, then we'll head over to the hospital."

"Okay." Kari gave her a big smile.

"Let's find you some clothes, then we'll see what we can accomplish." Elysia turned toward the doorway, feeling good for the first time since taking Neil's potion. Taking action would do that, she decided.

The girl at the desk smiled. "Yes, I remember you. You're Doug's fiancée, right?"

"That's right." Elysia returned the smile, conscious that she still wore her sunglasses. She didn't want the receptionist to see her white eyes.

"Lucky you." The receptionist gave her a wink, then turned her attention to Kari. "Did he Make her?" She didn't attempt to show any discretion about discussing Kari's situation in front of her. The dead were nothing more than objects in the necromancer world.

The woman's callous indifference went right through Elysia. That and her assumption that Doug was the one responsible. "Her name is Kari, and I Made her." Cursed or not, she wouldn't live what was left of her life in Doug's shadow.

The receptionist's eyes went wide.

Elysia clamped her mouth shut, immediately regretting the words. What was she thinking? The woman was bound to mention it to Doug—and everyone else she saw. The strain of her power loss was making her reckless.

"Care if we go back?" Elysia waved toward the locked doors behind the receptionist's desk. She lifted her chin, trying to emulate the arrogance Doug always displayed around lesser necromancers.

"No, please," the receptionist collected herself enough to answer. "Go right ahead. I believe Doug said he would be in room two." She pressed a button, and the sound of the lock disengaging echoed around the room.

Elysia had started to turn away, but stopped. "Doug's here?"

The receptionist lifted a brow, looking surprised. "Isn't that why you're here?"

"I meant, he's here already." Elysia smiled. "He must have driven fast."

"He just arrived."

Elysia thanked her and headed for the doors, her stomach twisting in apprehension. It looked like she would have to pay for her ill-thought comment immediately.

Elysia led Kari through the doors into the empty hall beyond. Should she hide Kari in one of the rooms? She would prefer to speak to Doug before he met Kari. But what if all the employees weren't gone for the day? Everyone who worked here had some tie to the Deacon's family, and most of them were necromancers. If one of them came face to face with Kari, they would know what she was—unless Elysia could find a way for her to blend in with the other dead. If Kari hid in a mortuary drawer...

Memories rose. The hollow dark. Cold dead fingers sliding along her thin child's arm. Elysia shivered. She could never ask Kari to hide in a drawer.

"You're engaged?" Kari's question interrupted Elysia's dark memories.

"What?"

"The woman at the desk said you were engaged."

"Oh. Yes." Elysia led her slowly down the hall, still not certain what to do.

"To the were—I mean, the grim?"

"No. Another necromancer." They were approaching the room where she had met Neil. One of the double doors to that room stood open, and she heard a low rumble of male voices. Neil and Doug?

"When you walked into my store, I thought you and your friend were a couple."

"He's dead."

"Like me or..."

"Like you, in a way."

They had reached the autopsy room, and Elysia stopped behind the closed door to sneak a peek through the small pane of glass. Doug was indeed present, along with Neil. The pair of them stood over one of the three tables in the room.

"What the hell?" she whispered. James lay on the table.

She pressed her hands to the cool steel of the door, ready to shove it open and demand to know why James was here and not at his hotel.

"If she can't feel a dead bird, she can't feel the bond." Neil's voice carried through the open door beside her. He straightened from his position bent over James's arm. He held a syringe filled with a bright red liquid in his gloved hand. James's blood.

Elysia hesitated.

"What are you saying?" Doug asked. "Has she already lost it?"

"You knew it was a possibility."

"In time. You reassured me the potion wouldn't accelerate the process."

The door warmed beneath Elysia's hands, but she didn't push it open.

"Hold him." Neil picked up an empty syringe from the cart beside him and turned back to James.

"He's secure." Doug didn't touch James. He didn't have to. It was Doug's power that held him in place.

"So keep her as a mistress," Neil said. "It was unlikely your father would have accepted her anyway, coming from the family she does."

Doug didn't respond, but he didn't deny Neil's assertion about his father, either. Elysia's heart thumped a dull beat against her ribs. She had been right about Doug's father.

Neil withdrew another syringe of blood. "Okay. Command him to change before he bleeds to death."

"From a needle stick?"

"He doesn't heal on his own."

Elysia frowned. Was that true? And how did Neil know so much about him? Had he been experimenting on him all this time?

"Keep a tight leash." Neil pushed the cart away from the table, his words almost lost to the squeaky wheels. "He's quick."

"Afraid?" Doug asked.

"You haven't seen what he can do. Right, James?"

James didn't give him a response.

"Let's see what you can do, dead man." Doug looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "Change."

James rolled off the table and darkness enveloped him before he hit the floor. He landed on four paws with a soft thump. A dark doorway appeared before him, seeming to float in mid air. Elysia remembered seeing the same thing at the store when he took out the second gunman.

"Stop!" Doug shouted.

James snarled, but did nothing else.

_Little brother?_ An accented voice echoed out of the darkness.

"Wait." Neil moved closer.

A form moved within the doorway, a shadow in the darkness, his red eyes focused on them.

"What is that?" Doug whispered.

Neil stopped before the doorway. "Who are you?"

_Necromancer._ The form snarled. _Your kind has no power over me here_.

Elysia shivered. It took an effort to stand here. She didn't like Neil, but she had to admire his courage to converse with that thing.

"I know who you are," Neil said, wonder in his voice.

_Come closer,_ the voice said. _Magical souls are indeed the tastiest_.

The person within the darkness stepped to the edge of the opening, and Elysia pressed a hand to her mouth. It was the monster from her dream. Over seven feet tall, this thing looked like a werewolf. Light danced across the doorway, and the monster snarled and stepped back. The sound made her want to turn and run.

"You can't step through, can you?" Neil asked. "Why can he?" He gestured at James.

_He has a body made of flesh_. The monster moved into the light. _Bring me a body and I will serve you._

"Don't, Neil," Doug whispered, his tone urgent. "That's a demon."

Neil ignored him. "A body? Any body?"

_A body of the blood. A living body_. The monster whispered, longing in every word.

"Blood? Whose blood?"

_The blood of the hound_.

Neil glanced at James, his look considering.

James snarled.

Elysia shivered again. God, James sounded like the thing in the doorway.

"Change back." Doug's voice broke the quiet.

James became human, crouching naked on the tile floor. The doorway winked out, but his glowing green eyes didn't watch it go; they were locked with hers.

Elysia took a hasty step to the side and pressed her back against the wall beside the door.

"What's wrong?" Kari whispered.

Elysia waved her to silence.

"Do you mind?" Neil sounded pissed.

"You were conversing with a demon."

"Ah, Doug." Neil clicked his tongue a few times, the sound an admonishment. "So little you know. It's sad how far our kind have fallen."

"That was a doorway into the land of the dead."

"Of course it was. He's a hellhound. A guardian of that place."

"Why the surprise, Doug?" James spoke up. "Certainly you've seen Elysia open a portal. Or is that why you wanted her power knocked out?"

Elysia didn't move. She had no idea what James meant about a portal, but she wanted to hear Doug's answer to the last part.

"What are you talking about, dead man?" Doug demanded.

"I think Doug is confused," Neil said to James. "He wants to present you to his father, free of an interfering bond. Not that he's above stunting his fiancée, but I don't think he fully realizes what she can do."

"How would you know what she's capable of?" Doug asked.

"Her ancestry. And your comment that she's already losing ground to her curse."

"The curse is real?"

"Of course. A brilliant feat of alchemy and necromancy."

Elysia held her breath so she didn't miss a word. If Neil knew about her curse, he might know specifics.

Neil chuckled. "But I doubt she understands its true purpose."

"How do you?'

"I know my trade." He began moving the squeaky-wheeled cart once more. "If you would, collar the grim and put him back in his drawer."

Elysia pressed a hand to her mouth. _His_ drawer? Had James been here all along, locked in a drawer when Neil wasn't experimenting on him?

Doug grumbled, but he must have done as told because a door slammed a few minutes later.

"I expect results," Doug said. "You had better not be delaying so you can spend more time with the grim."

"Don't worry. You'll get to present him to your father soon, although I still think it a foolish idea."

"Father knows discretion."

Elysia didn't get a chance to react to that. Footsteps approached the door. "Hide!" she whispered to Kari. They ran across the hall and pushed open the swinging door into another room. Only the emergency lights were on, giving the room an eerie glow.

"Why are we hiding?" Kari whispered.

Elysia held up a finger, silently asking for her to wait. Doug's footfalls echoed in the hall, moving away from them. Fortunately, Kari's presence wouldn't be noticed in a building full of the dead.

"I've been betrayed." Elysia slumped against the wall beside the door. "That was my fiancé." She had always known that Doug didn't truly love her, but she also knew that his reasons for pursuing her had never been malicious ones. He only wanted to join his power to hers, adding even more clout to the Nelson name in the next generation. Though it did surprise her that he was willing to go against his father's wishes to do that. He _never_ went against his father.

"I'm sorry." Kari laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

Once again, Elysia was touched by this girl's compassion. Elysia took a steadying breath. She didn't have time to feel sorry for herself. She had to get James free.

"Listen, I—"

"Someone's coming." Kari's grip tightened.

Elysia bit back a cry, certain Kari had almost crushed her shoulder. "Easy." She patted Kari's hand. "You have the strength of the dead."

The squeak of Neil's cart echoed in the hall, moving closer.

Elysia guided Kari away from the door and took her first good look at the room. It wasn't an autopsy room; there were no tables here. Instead, the room was filled with counters and cabinets. She eyed a microscope and the nearby rack of test tubes. It was the lab Doug had mentioned—and Neil was no doubt coming here.

They stood in the center of the room, and the only door out led straight into Neil's path.

# Chapter Twelve

"Duck under a cabinet?" Kari whispered.

Elysia glanced over at her. That might have worked, if there were other bodies in here. "He's a necromancer. He'll sense you." Being stunted only prevented a necro from using his magic; it didn't stop him from feeling—unless the stunting was potion induced, like hers.

Elysia gripped Kari's upper arm. "I need you to distract him."

Kari's eyes widened. "How?"

"Tell him you're the lich from the hospital, sent here for safekeeping until the Deacon decides what to do with you. Tell him anything, just don't mention me."

"But—"

"Don't worry. He's stunted. He can't use his power on you. Once I'm out of the room, you can punch his lights out."

Kari's brows rose.

"Strength of the dead, remember." Elysia ducked under the nearest cabinet, a moment before the door swung open. An instant later, the room was bathed in light as Neil flipped the switch. The cart squeaked, then abruptly stopped.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I'm Kari. I was told that the Deacon would collect me." She took a few steps toward him. "Are _you_ the Deacon?"

"No." He moved closer. "You're a lich."

"That's what they tell me." Kari's voice fell to a whisper. "They say I'm dead."

"You are." Stunted or not, Neil had the usual necromancer indifference to the dead.

"Oh." She sounded so dejected. "What happens to me?"

"You probably don't want to know." He walked past her, dismissing her as unworthy of his notice. His indifference surprised Elysia. Liches were so rare that most viewed even the possibility as a fable.

Neil approached her hiding place, and Elysia shrunk against the wall, but he didn't stop. He continued down the counter, halting a short distance away.

"You say the Deacon's on his way over?" Neil asked.

"Now? I don't know. I heard them say that he would decide what to do with me." Kari followed him.

Elysia expected Neil to question how Kari got here in the first place, but he remained silent for a long moment.

"Who Made you?" he finally asked.

"What?"

"Who made you a lich?"

"I don't know." Kari's voice sounded further away, as if she moved toward the back wall. "What's this?"

"Don't touch anything." The rattle of glass followed Neil's voice.

Elysia leaned forward chancing a glance into the aisle. Neil's black robes were only yards away. Elysia pulled back, but even as she did, she realized that he had been turning in the opposite direction. Toward Kari.

Taking a deep breath, Elysia peeked out again. Neil had his back to her, walking to where Kari stood at the far end of the counter. It was now or never.

Elysia crawled out from beneath the cabinet and, staying low, began to back toward the door.

"Can you describe the one who Made you?" Neil asked.

"I had a head injury. I woke up in the hospital. Dead." She finished in a whisper.

Neil didn't immediately respond, and Elysia stopped, afraid he would hear her movements in the now quiet room.

"What is it?" Kari asked him. She faced Elysia, yet kept her eyes on Neil. Elysia admired her presence of mind to not give her away by glancing at her.

"Is your heart still intact?"

"W-what?"

"Is there an incision over your heart?"

Elysia hesitated. Did Neil suspect her?

"No," Kari answered, her horrified eyes remained on Neil, preventing her from seeing Elysia's nod as she tried to get Kari to say yes. If Neil knew that Kari's heart was still intact, he knew that a necromancer had Made her with blood alone. Only the rarest of the rare could do that, and it had been centuries since the last one. The one who had founded Elysia's line.

Neil chuckled. "Interesting." His arm shot forward, and Elysia thought he made a grab at Kari. Instead, a cloud of green gas exploded in her face. He had thrown a potion.

Elysia rose from her crouch and in three quiet steps, she was through the swinging door and back out into the hall. Her luck held as the doors didn't creak and the hall was empty. She hesitated. What had Neil thrown at Kari? Should she try to help her? No, she couldn't waste the opportunity Kari had given her.

Running on her toes, she hurried to the autopsy room where she had last seen James. A quick peek though the glass, and she shoved open the door. The hinge squeaked, the sound loud in the empty room—or perhaps it was amplified by her nerves.

She eased the door closed behind her and turned to face the mortuary drawers. There were twelve of them. Keenly aware of her lack of power, she stared at the doors. Which one was James's?

A thump sounded from the hall, and Elysia glanced toward the door. She would have to rescue Kari next, but with James's help, that shouldn't be a problem. If he would help. He might think she had approved of his recent treatment.

"James," she whispered. Through the numbness, the bond tightened. Neil and Doug were wrong. This bond would never dissolve.

A soft thump came from the drawers on her right. Elysia moved closer, her heart pounding as she resisted the urge to start opening doors.

She forced herself to focus and closed her eyes, listening. _James, where are you?_

Another thump.

Without opening her eyes, she reached out and took another step toward the drawers. Her fingers brushed the cool metal, sliding over it until she found the latch. She opened her eyes and pulled the handle. Light from the room reached only a foot into the drawer, but it was enough to illuminate a head of black hair—not a body bag.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and pulled out the drawer. James squinted up at her in the bright light. The only thing he wore was a metal collar locked around his throat. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his skin appeared paler than she remembered.

"Oh God," she whispered, brushing back his hair. "I'm so sorry."

He lifted an arm and she stilled. His cool fingers came to rest against her cheek. "What have those bastards done to you?" His eyes held hers, his forehead wrinkled in concern. He had noticed her white eyes.

She bit back a sob. Like Kari, he put her troubles over his own.

"Later," she whispered. "Let's go."

He took his hand from her face and gripped the collar encircling his throat. "I need to remove this."

She remembered her dream and the way he had been bound, but there were no chains here.

"Why?" she asked.

He met her eyes and seemed to decide something. "It confines my power."

She touched the keyhole worked into the metal collar. "Where's the key?"

"Neil's cart. It was—" James turned his head toward the door. "I hear him. He's coming."

Elysia turned toward the room. Aside from a counter running along one wall, only the three stainless steel tables occupied the room. And the only way out was the door into the hall.

James gripped her wrist. "Climb in here."

Her breath caught. "I–I can't." The old memories surfaced. The dark, the cold. Dead hands animated by her own blood. A cold sweat instantly coated her skin.

"Elysia."

The bond tightened and she gasped.

"I'll be with you," James said.

He was right, and she was being a coward. She was a grown woman not a terrified child.

Her heart thumped in her ears, and she did something she only did in her darkest nightmares: she climbed into the drawer. James moved over as much as he could to make room, but she still had to lie on her side to fit on the cold steel tray with him. Bracing his hands on the ceiling, James walked their drawer back into the narrow space that held it, then reached above their heads and caught the door.

"Careful!" The word was almost a shout, and she forced herself to continue in a softer tone. "It latches on the outside."

"I know." He pulled it until the latch touched, but didn't catch. Elysia wasn't sure if she wanted the open door to come to Neil's attention or not. Facing him might be preferable to the sheer terror that had enveloped her.

"Easy." James's voice was soft in the darkness, one hand rubbing her back.

Elysia laid her head on his shoulder, trying to take his advice. She could do this. She was twenty-six not six.

"Damn," James whispered, and light suddenly flooded their drawer.

"Clever," Neil said.

Elysia tipped her head up to see him bending to peer into their drawer.

"You sent a lich to distract me?"

"You better not have hurt her."

"Compassion for the dead is the first step toward insanity." He smiled as he glanced between them. "Crawling into a drawer with one is several flights up."

"Watch it," James said.

Neil chuckled, his white eyes returning to Elysia's own. "Poor Doug has no idea what you're capable of, does he?"

She held his gaze, refusing to answer.

"I didn't think so." Neil straightened. "You two behave. I have an errand to run." He slammed the cooler door in her face, and they were plunged into complete darkness.

James's arms tightened around her. "Shh," he breathed, his mouth close to her ear.

She climbed over him to push against the door. It didn't move. "Oh God."

"It's all right. He'll be back."

She pushed against the door harder. Nothing. It wouldn't open. Suddenly she was a child, and the body beneath her wasn't warm. She slammed a fist against the door.

James's warm hands slid up her arms, pulling her back.

"No!" she cried out, trying to pull away. Her back thumped against the ceiling, emphasizing the smallness of the space. How trapped she was.

"Elysia."

She gasped with the sensation of being pulled to him. "You're not alone." He pressed her palms to his chest. "I'm with you, Elysia Grace." The bond tightened, going deeper.

She groaned and squeezed her eyes closed, though it made no difference in the darkness. The terror receded, but didn't vanish.

"Tell me you know me. Say my name."

She swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat.

"My middle name is Daniel." He rubbed her back. "Come on, know me. Make me yours."

"James Daniel," she whispered.

He groaned at the same instant relief washed over her. It felt like she had bled off some of her magic. But how?

She opened her eyes, but couldn't see him. She couldn't see anything. Time rolled back twenty years, and icy fingers trailed along her thin bare arms. Dead fingers.

"All of it." His commanding tone jerked her back into the moment. "Huntsman. My last name is Huntsman."

Appropriate. She took a shaky breath, the air scented with the musk of his cologne, warmed by his skin. "James Daniel Huntsman."

He cried out, his back coming off the drawer and lifting her until her own back thumped against the top of the chamber.

She gripped his shoulders to maintain her balance. Warm shoulders, yet the tight confines shot adrenaline into her veins. She reached for the door.

James caught her wrists. "No. Connect with me." He gently returned her hands to his chest. "Share your soul."

It took a few tries to catch her breath and speak. "Neil took that ability from me."

A faint growl rumbled beneath her. "No. I feel you, within me. And you feel me, Elysia Grace."

Hades's blood, she loved the way he said her name. But she also heard his question. He wanted all of it, just as he had given all of his.

"Mallory," she whispered. "My sire name is Mallory."

He stilled beneath her. For a moment, she thought the name meant something to him, then he took a breath and she braced herself. "Elysia Grace Mallory."

She cried out as his voice pulled her the rest of the way in, and they were one. He groaned and the sound vibrated through her entire body. Unerringly, she found his lips in the darkness.

He was waiting for her, his mouth claiming hers. He squeezed her shoulders, then slid his hands down her back. Still shaking, she clung to him, certain the darkness would reclaim her if she let go.

She pressed her body closer to his, or tried to in the tight space. His hands moved down to grip her hips, and he lifted his own to meet her. She realized that eating and sleeping weren't the only functions his body still performed. Then her back thumped the top of the chamber. Again.

"Sorry. Damn." Frustration laced James's voice, making the word more a growl than an effort at communication.

The absurdity of the situation struck Elysia at that moment. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, trying to muffle the laugh, but failed. Maybe it was a touch of hysteria, but the more she thought about it, the funnier it got.

She expected anger from James, or at least annoyance, but he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her against him. His own laugher joined hers, and before long, there were tears on both their faces.

"Better?" he asked when they finally got control of themselves.

"Yes." She rubbed a hand across her damp cheeks. "Thanks for bringing me back."

"I didn't mind."

She smiled. They lay in silence for several minutes, letting their breathing return to normal.

"I had a bad experience in one of these," she admitted.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Not really."

"I understand." He raised his hands, and she guessed he pressed his palms to the ceiling. "If my brothers have their way, an iron box is to be my destiny, though I hope it's bigger than this one."

"What do you mean?"

"The generation that contains the grim gets a power boost aside from the usual hunting enhancements the blood gives them. To preserve that, my brothers would like to keep me in an iron vault to protect me from harm, and preserve their power."

"They sound like lovely people."

"Yes, but they are family—the only family I have." Something in his tone made it sound like there was more to it, but he didn't elaborate.

She made a sound of understanding. "My mother went mad by the time I was six. She once mistook me for one of the dead and locked me in the cooler drawer. It was occupied."

His arms tightened around her. "I'm sorry. That had to be terrifying."

"Yes."

"It was brave of you to climb in here."

"I thought I could handle it."

"You are."

"Only because you pulled me back."

"No problem. You're not so bad for a necromancer."

She smiled. "And you're pretty nice for a dead guy."

"Thanks." He rubbed a hand over her back. She suspected he meant the gesture to be soothing, but all it did was give her chills.

She cleared her throat. "That collar limits your strength, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I can't bust us out."

"And I can't remove the collar." She reached out, still aware of his body beneath hers, and felt around the door. "No exposed hinges."

"Neil will let us out eventually, but what he plans beyond that, I don't know."

"You speak like you know him."

"He's one of the necros who had me before."

"Damn." She dropped her head to his shoulder. "And I gave you back to him."

"Don't blame yourself. I let Doug bring us here."

"Like you had any say. I would have overridden you."

He sighed, but didn't comment, his fingers playing with her hair.

"What does Neil want with us?" She could understand him wanting James. Every necromancer wanted the grim, but Neil was stunted. He couldn't command James.

"I'm not sure," James answered, "but it can't be good."

Elysia couldn't argue that.

"How bad is it?" James asked.

It took her a moment to realize that he spoke of her magic. "It hurts, but..."

"What?" He continued to play with her hair, brushing it back from her face.

"The worst are the whispers."

"The whispers?"

She braced herself to continue, determined to admit to him what she hadn't been able to tell Doug. "I'm hearing voices."

"Do you hear them now?" His tone was serious.

She stopped to listen and heard... nothing. "They're gone."

"Of course." A smile entered his voice. "The dead usually flee from a grim."

She stilled. "Ghosts. You think they're ghosts."

"I heard them when you first found me."

"It's not in my head," she whispered.

"No." He ran a hand over her hair again.

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his jaw, unable to stop the tears. She wasn't going mad.

"The bastard has blocked your ability to bleed off the life within you. It's bottled up, becoming a damned siren's call to the dead."

She lifted her head. "How do you know? Isn't your power locked down, too?"

"It is, but my sensitivity remains. Trust me, I'll go mad long before you do if we remain trapped in this drawer."

She smiled then tipped her head up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

His breath shook as he exhaled. "I'm actually serious."

She snorted. "Sabotaging yourself again?"

"As you can attest, the space is a bit limiting. Maybe if you weren't wearing pants..."

"Have you been thinking about this?"

"From the moment you climbed in here. Though with my luck, Neil would show up just as things got interesting."

She laughed, grateful the darkness hid her blush. "He's a necromancer. I doubt it would shock him."

"True." James fell silent.

"Yes?"

"I've noticed that you're a necromancer."

She wondered if he could feel her heart pounding against his ribs. "No, I've never had sex in a mortuary drawer. I have a phobia about them, remember?"

"Oh right."

"But I'm not opposed to the idea."

"Twisted necromancer."

"Yes." She returned her cheek to his chest.

He cleared his throat. "So, in a mortuary drawer. With... a dead man."

"With you."

He fell silent, and she began to second-guess the banter. There was supposed to be a grain of truth in every joke. Perhaps he did think her twisted.

"Do you think our magical compatibility got the better of us again?" she asked.

"Maybe."

She sighed. "Sorry."

"I don't think you're at fault."

"Perhaps not the only one."

"Perhaps."

# Chapter Thirteen

James came awake with a gasp. He called the hound, ready to rip the threat to shreds—and hit an iron wall. He lay panting in the dark, attempting to adjust to his deadened senses. What had awakened him?

He cursed under his breath. He hadn't meant to go to sleep. When Neil returned, he wanted to be ready.

Elysia was oblivious to his anxiety. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, her warm breath slow and even against the side of his neck. She was quiet now, but she had been restless on and off all night. He didn't know what demons plagued her. In their short acquaintance, he had come realize that her life hadn't been easy. Then too, she might not be dreaming of her past. She might be dreaming of Doug's betrayal, or the loss of her magic. Both things James felt he should have been able to prevent.

If he got this collar off, he vowed to take both necromancers from this world—especially Neil. That man needed a slow trip to hell.

Elysia muttered something, shifting against him. He ran a hand over her hair until she settled down. She slid her hand across his stomach until her arm encircled his waist, and her breathing grew slow and steady again.

It was amazing he had slept at all with her pressed so close. Her power hummed beneath her too warm skin, and he squirmed against the tray they lay on. She was right, of course. Their magical compatibility had gotten the better of them once more. There could be no other explanation. They barely knew each other.

Footfalls sounded outside his drawer. Damn it, he had let himself get distracted. "Elysia!" he whispered, squeezing her with the arm he had wrapped behind her back. "Wake up."

She gasped, lifting her head from his shoulder. "What is it?"

"He's coming. When he pulls out the drawer, roll off your side—and hold your breath."

"Hold my—"

"He might gas us."

"Got it." She gave his shoulder a squeeze, shifting around until she lay on her side facing away from him.

The door snapped open and light poured into the drawer, blinding him. James sucked in a breath and held it, then heard Elysia do the same.

"Good morning," Neil said, then threw out a hand. A fine green powder exploded in their faces. James suspected it was Addie's Perfect Assistant Dust. The powder would give Neil the ability to command them, and they would have no choice but to obey.

James gripped the edge of the opening and pulled them out into the open air so fast that Neil had to stumble back to avoid being hit. Still holding his breath, James rolled off his side and dropped to the ground. Tucking his legs beneath him, he landed in a crouch.

A thump sounded on the far side of the drawer. Elysia grunted in pain, then immediately began to cough. Neil had shoved her against the drawers, and the green powder still hung in the air around them.

James sprang to his feet, leaping over the drawer, his hands outstretched as he reached for Neil. He might not be able to rip out his soul, but he was more than capable of killing him with only his hands. Besides, James had promised him a slow trip to hell.

Neil threw up a hand, stumbling backward while the other hand reached for a vial along his ribs. "Stop him!" Neil shouted.

James's hands closed around his throat.

"James, stop!" Elysia shouted. Her power slammed into him.

He doubled over with the force of it, releasing Neil. What happened? Could she use her power again?

Elysia covered her mouth with one hand, clearly shocked. Yes, the green powder had been Perfect Assistant Dust. Elysia would now obey any command Neil gave her.

Oddly, Neil looked just as stunned. He stared at Elysia with wide, white eyes. "You can still control him? How is that possible? Doug said you can't even sense death."

"I'm not stunted," she said with heat. "I just got screwed over by an alchemist. Again."

James frowned at Neil, then he understood. "You designed the potion you gave her around your own blood." Neil had really attempted to stunt her.

Neil ignored him, his attention still on Elysia. "You can't sense your magic, but you can still use it?"

Elysia clenched her fists. "I'm as surprised as you are." Her eyes narrowed. "Or not. You did tell me to stop him. And what was in that powder you threw at me?"

"I thought you would throw yourself in his path." Neil waved off the rest of it. "A mystery for another day." He tugged on his robes to straighten them before addressing Elysia once more. "You are not to give him a command unless I tell you to, and he is not allowed to move unless you command it."

Elysia's eyes widened as she absorbed the command. "James, don't move unless I command it," she whispered. The crease in her brow made it clear that she didn't understand what was happening.

Fury filled James along with her power, but his anger wasn't directed at her.

"Very good." Neil smiled then turned toward the door. "I want you both next door. Make it happen, Elysia."

A muscle flexed in her jaw, but she started walking. "James, come with me."

Her power flowed into him once more, and he fell in step beside her. She glanced up, her white eyes confused and angry.

"The powder is called Perfect Assistant Dust," James said.

Neil snorted from a few yards ahead of them. "Addie really needs to come up with better names for her potions."

James ignored him. "The powder leaves you open to suggestion, not unlike necromantic compulsion. Neil stole it from Addie."

Elysia looked up, her expression puzzled.

"Addie's my friend. She's also a master alchemist. After I kill Neil, I'll take you to her. She'll fix you."

Neil chuckled. "She'll need my blood to do it."

James glared at the man's back. "I'll take her a sample."

Neil gave him a flat stare over his shoulder. "We'll see, grim." He pushed open the door to the lab and disappeared inside, completely confident they would follow.

James sighed. His confidence was warranted.

Elysia's hand slipped into his, and James glanced down.

"I hope you can get that sample." Cool anger burned in her eyes. Hand in hand, they walked into the lab. The door thumped closed behind them, and James skidded to a halt. Neil wasn't the only person in the room.

"Damn, you move fast, little brother." Brian Huntsman, the youngest of his three older brothers, rose from a crouch in the center of the room. It seemed that Neil's errand had been to retrieve him.

"You look surprised to see me," Brian said. He held an empty blood vial, and at his feet, he had drawn a symbol James found all too familiar.

"What are you doing?" James asked, his voice not much more than a whisper. Blood had been smeared in a wide circle around Brian's feet. Lit candles flickered at regular intervals beside the blood. James recognized the design. It was a summoning circle.

"The necromancer made me an offer." Brian smiled at him. "He promised to give me powers like yours."

"In exchange for?"

"A blood oath—to serve him. I gave it willingly." Brian grinned.

"You believed him?"

"Elysia," Neil cut in. "Remove James's collar and command him to change." Neil offered her a key.

She took the key, then turned to face James, her brow wrinkled.

"Move away before you tell me to change," he warned her.

She reached up to grip the collar and slipped the key inside. The lock snapped open, and a moment later, the collar slid from his neck.

The world came alive around him, and James drew a deep breath.

Elysia stepped back. "Change."

James didn't mind this command. He was already changing. He dropped to all fours and lifted his lips to give Neil a snarl. Unfortunately, that was all he could do. Elysia's earlier command that he do nothing unless she ordered it still held him in check.

Neil smiled, then turned to offer Brian another vial. "Drink this, then recite the incantation."

Brian nodded and pulled the cap from the vial. "Will I be able to do that?" He jerked his chin toward James.

"That is my hope."

Brian grinned and downed the potion. He coughed to clear his throat. "Disgusting."

"My apologies." Neil moved over to stand beside Elysia. He turned to face Brian and crossed his arms, the movement exposing his tattoos. "Go ahead."

Brian gave James a triumphant grin, then bent and touched his fingers to the circle drawn in blood. "Ancestor, hear me." He lifted his bloody fingers to his mouth and smeared his lips, finishing with a lick. His hazel eyes took on a faint green glow.

James glanced at the bloody circle. Neil had drawn it in the blood he'd taken from him. Grim blood.

Elysia twined her fingers in James's fur, her grip growing tighter as Brian continued.

"I call you from the void, Gavin Huntsman."

James pricked his ears forward, a growl bubbling up when Gavin appeared within the circle with Brian.

Elysia gasped.

_Nice job, necromancer_. Gavin snarled the words. He stepped up behind Brian and wrapped both arms around him. The circle was technically a chunk of the dead realm superimposed in the mortal plane. The alignment gave Gavin's spirit form a physical manifestation.

"What are you doing?" Brian asked at the same time Neil leaned over to mumble in Elysia's ear.

She gave a cry and pressed both hands to her mouth.

Neil gripped her wrists and pulled her hands down. "Say it."

"James," she whispered, choking on a sob. "Rip out your brother's soul."

James yelped as her power slammed into him. He could no more ignore the command than he could ignore the need to draw his next breath.

Brian's eyes went wide, and Gavin pulled back his lips in a ghastly impersonation of a smile.

James sprang forward.

# Chapter Fourteen

Elysia opened her mouth to command James to stop, but the sound died in her throat, unable to escape. She lunged after him, desperate to stop him.

Neil caught her by the upper arm, jerking her back to his side. "Don't interfere."

She could do nothing but watch as James leapt into the air, clearing the bloody circle drawn on the floor. As had happened at the convenience store, James didn't collide with his intended target; he vanished into him. But this time was different. The monster vanished as well, as James's brother slumped to the floor.

"Command James to heel," Neil said, his grip on her arm so tight it hurt. Was he afraid now that James was no longer in sight?

"James, heel," she whispered, not sure how much good it would do.

Toenails clicked on the tile, and he was suddenly beside her. He staggered, his shoulder bumping her hip before he collapsed at her feet.

Neil released her, and she dropped to her knees beside James. She ran her hands over the fur of his back and mentally pleaded for his forgiveness.

James's brother lay unmoving in the circle. Without her magic, Elysia wasn't sure if he was dead. But James's reaction made it clear that he was.

Neil picked up one of the flickering candles and tipped it on its side until the flame touched the circle of blood. A whoosh, and the circle ignited in a flash of green flame. Before Elysia could do more than gasp, the flames were gone.

"Did it work?" Neil remained in his crouch on the circle's perimeter.

James's brother turned his head, and Elysia's mouth dropped open.

"The blood is too thin," he rasped. His eyes flickered open, revealing irises of glowing red.

Elysia pressed a hand to her mouth. The monster had had glowing red eyes.

"Hang on. I have a solution." Neil rose to his feet, turning toward Elysia. "Command James to change and take his brother next door. I want him on one table, his brother on the other. Make it happen, Elysia."

The words were out of her mouth before Elysia could even wonder what Neil was up to. This must be what it felt like to James when a necro took control of him. God, it was such a violation. If she got him out of this, she would never give him a command again.

James obeyed without even glancing in her direction. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he gathered his brother in his arms and left the room.

Neil busied himself transferring a variety of supplies from the countertop to his cart.

Elysia glanced around in search of something, anything she could do to stop this. Though there was nothing to be done for James's brother, Neil clearly wasn't finished. And she was quickly learning that whatever Neil intended wouldn't be good.

While Neil had his back to her, Elysia took the opportunity to take several steps to her right, closer to the counter that ran through the center of the room. An assortment of lab equipment and reagent bottles lined the surface, and she entertained the notion of throwing something at him. The change in position gave her a view along the other side of the counter, and she stopped in surprise. Kari lay sprawled on the tile floor at the far end of the room.

Elysia hurried along the back of the counter and dropped to her knees beside her, but the girl's cool skin and silent heart told her nothing. She touched Kari's cheek, then jerked her hand away when the girl's eyes rotated toward her.

Neil stepped around the end of the counter.

"What have you done to her?" Elysia gripped Kari's hand.

"Your affection for your creation is... disturbing," Neil said with a smile. "But fear not. I've only denied her the ability to move. It's nearly impossible to knock the dead insensate." He returned to his cart and began pushing it toward the door. "Come along."

Given no choice, Elysia did as commanded.

Elysia could do nothing but watch as Neil checked the blood bag he had rigged for James's brother—or what had been James's brother. For what felt like the hundredth time, Elysia wished she had her power back. From where she sat on her stool, she could see the rise and fall of his chest, but that didn't mean he lived. James's chest also rose and fell, an observation that gave her some comfort. The bag of blood had come from him, and he bled still.

With gloved hands, Neil adjusted the IV he had inserted into the brother's arm. Satisfied, he selected a penlight from his cart and checked his pupils. It seemed Neil had had some medical training.

"You said that James doesn't heal, that he could bleed out unless he changes," Elysia reminded Neil.

"That is correct." Neil didn't look up from what he was doing. "Grim physiology is fascinating. I'd love to study it more."

"Shouldn't you remove James's collar?" Neil had forced her to place the collar back around James's throat as soon as they returned to the room.

Neil glanced at her before turning back to what he was doing. "Do you really think it's in the best interest of... anyone that the Deacon be given the power to command the grim?"

She glanced at James, but he didn't look over. He stared at the ceiling, as he had for the last half hour. Had it hurt him that much to kill his brother? From what he had told her about his family, she couldn't imagine him having any affection for them.

"So," Elysia faced Neil, "you're going to let him... cease to be?"

Neil didn't answer. He finished adjusting the IV, then started the pump to transfer James's blood into his brother.

"You're taking the grim," she said, as the horror of what he was really doing set in. "But in a form no one will recognize."

"Brilliant, don't you think?" Neil straightened and gave her a smile.

"I think I'll refrain from saying what I really think." Her words were glib, but her heart thumped a nervous beat. She had to get James free, but had no idea how. Neil had commanded her onto this stool, after forcing her to inhale another dose of that powder. She couldn't leave the stool even if she knew what to do.

Neil chuckled at her comment and picked up something off his cart. The fluorescent light winked off the scalpel he held. Elysia tensed, afraid he was going to help James's bleeding along, but Neil returned to James's brother instead. With a callous indifference that suggested he had done this many times, he ran the scalpel across the tip of his left ring finger.

"Heart's blood," he told her.

"Superstition." Blood was blood.

"Is it?" He returned the scalpel to the cart. "Something tells me you haven't studied your necromancy as you should."

"Because I'm not a monster like you?"

"Because your family has to throw themselves on the Deacon's mercy. Had you been at the helm, things might have been different."

She frowned. "Are you saying he would have respected us?"

"He wouldn't have had the balls to open those new funeral parlors in your hometown. He would have feared you."

"The Deacon. Fear me?"

"My dear Miss Mallory, there are only two necromancers alive right now with the ability to create a lich with the very power of their blood—and you are one of them."

"The Deacon is the other?"

Neil smiled and returned to his grim-in-the-making. With his opposite hand, he opened the man's mouth, then pushed his bleeding finger inside.

Elysia frowned. Now what was he up to? "What are you going to do with Kari?" she asked.

"Kari?"

"My companion."

"Oh. You keep interesting company, Miss Mallory. Once this task is complete, I'll call my uncle and tell him I found his problem. That should net me a few brownie points."

"Why would you bother?"

"There are reasons. You—" Neil stopped and the thing that had been James's brother growled. "No," Neil said. He didn't pull his finger from the man's mouth. "You are mine, Gavin Huntsman. For as long as I live, you are mine. When my life ends, so does yours."

The hairs on Elysia's arms stood up. Neil had soul bound him, using just the power of his blood. Only a uniquely talented necromancer could accomplish that. A necromancer as powerful as her.

"Not the Deacon, you," she whispered.

Neil turned to face her, wiping his finger on his robe. "Indeed, Miss Mallory. We are heirs to the throne."

"The throne? What throne? The only thing this power grants us is an early death."

"That's a bit shortsighted."

Their conversation was cut short as the new grim snarled. "You soul bound me, necromancer."

"Yes," Neil confirmed. "I would think it a fair trade for getting you out of the land of shades."

He opened his eyes, glowing red eyes, and glared at Neil. "And now I am destined to go back." His accent was all wrong for a twenty-first century American.

"You seem to doubt that I can make myself immortal," Neil said.

Elysia studied Neil. The guy hid it well, but when you got right down to it, he was as crazy as any stunted necromancer.

The man that had been James's brother tried to sit up.

"Lie still," Neil said.

His new grim growled and flopped back down.

"He obeys you?" Elysia asked. How did that work if Neil was stunted?

"I gave this body's previous occupant a potion. A potion designed around the necromantic power in my blood. Clever, huh?"

Neil returned to his charge, leaving Elysia to worry in silence.

James turned his head, those vibrant green eyes meeting hers. Was it her imagination, or did they look a little glassy? Did he realize that she had damned him the moment she bound him?

Neil snapped on a pair of gloves, and to Elysia's relief, began to remove the IVs from both James and his new charge. He sacked up the waste and headed for the door.

"Wait!" Elysia called. "Please let James heal."

Neil met her eyes. "Gavin, put him back in the drawer." Without waiting to see if he would obey, Neil left the room.

Oh God, no.

The new grim, Gavin, rose to his feet. He swayed and caught himself on the table, then stumbled across the intervening space to James's table. He snorted. "New body."

James fisted his hands, but didn't say anything.

"Please, Gavin." Elysia shifted on her stool. "Let him heal."

Gavin looked up, his eyes taking on that disturbing glow while he studied her. "I want to taste you." He watched her for a moment longer, then turned his attention to releasing James's ankles.

Elysia gripped her hands. "I'll let you," she whispered.

Gavin's head came up, his red gaze locked with hers.

"If you free him," she finished.

"Don't." James twisted on the table, trying to see her.

Gavin pulled back his lips, his eyes still on her. "You'll try to bind me."

"Not if you free him."

"I cannot disobey my master."

"Give James the key when you put him away."

Gavin's grin became more feral—if that was possible. "I like that, pretty necromancer. You are devious."

Gooseflesh rose along her arms, but she didn't look away.

"Elysia, no," James whispered.

"You're not going to perish because of me," she said.

Gavin chuckled and went to work on James's restraints. When he freed a wrist, James took a swing at him.

Gavin caught his fist against his palm and tsked. "None of that, little brother." He picked James up, locking his arms around James's upper body when he continued to struggle. He carried him to the mortuary drawer that still stood open and dropped him on the tray. When James tried to rise, Gavin shoved him down with one hand to his chest, then slid the drawer in and slammed the door.

"You are bound in iron," Gavin said. "Even in this new body, I can defeat you easily."

Elysia gripped the stool beneath her as Gavin turned to regard her. "The key is on Neil's cart. Quickly, before he returns."

The corner of Gavin's mouth twitched upward. It was creepy how he reminded her of James. The hair wasn't as dark, and the eyes—when not glowing—were hazel green, but the family resemblance was still there.

"You will be in my debt, pretty necromancer."

"Yes, I will." She glanced toward the door. "Please hurry."

A final grin and he did just that, his stride more easy and coordinated. He snatched up the key, then glanced at the door. "My master comes."

"Hurry," she whispered.

"Gavin won't disappoint you." A flash of teeth, and he sprang across the room, jerked open the door, and tossed the key inside.

It clattered against the steel lining of the drawer and Elysia grimaced. Would James be able to reach it? There was only an inch or so of space on either side of the tray he lay on. He wouldn't be able to squeeze his hand through the gap. Worse, what if the key had landed beneath the tray near his feet? He couldn't turn in the tight confines of the drawer.

Gavin slammed the door as Neil returned. "I did as you asked, master."

"Of course you did," Neil said, not even glancing in Gavin's direction. He gathered up a couple of vials from his cart and tucked them away in the long narrow pockets lining his ribs. "Gavin, there's a dead woman on the floor in the lab. Go get her and put her in one of these drawers."

"Which drawer?" Gavin asked, nonplused about being asked to fetch a dead woman.

Neil turned to Elysia, tipping his head toward the drawers. "Find an empty drawer to put your friend in."

Gritting her teeth, Elysia rose to her feet and did as told. She wanted to check on James and make certain he had the key, but with Neil in the room, she didn't get the opportunity.

Gavin returned a few minutes later with Kari slung over his shoulder. He walked to the drawer Elysia had pulled open and callously dropped Kari onto the tray. Her head bounced against the metal with a clang.

"Hey, easy." Elysia stepped up beside her and smoothed her hair. Kari's wide eyes focused on her.

"Unhealthy, Elysia," Neil said.

Gavin chuckled softly.

Elysia ignored them both. "I'm sorry." She rested a hand against Kari's forehead. "He's bound me with the same potion."

Concern and perhaps sadness entered Kari's eyes.

Elysia glanced at Neil. He was busy straightening his cart's contents. She caught a glint of metal as he cleaned the scalpel on his black robes.

An idea forming, Elysia glanced around for something sharp. When she found nothing, she brought her hand to her mouth and pinched a small chunk of flesh between her teeth. The muscles in her jaw tensed and she hesitated, anticipating the pain. Odd that the prospect of James scratching her had been so exciting. Maybe because he could heal her.

James. He would bleed to death if he couldn't reach that key.

Elysia bit down. Blinking her watering eyes, she pulled her finger from her mouth. Blood welled along the gash she had made.

Gavin growled, his attention on her finger.

"Later," Elysia whispered, then pushed her finger between Kari's lips. "Sorry." A quick glance at Neil, and she whispered the words for a soul bond—and felt nothing when she finished. Did it even work?

Gavin stood watching, his eyes glowing faintly as she pulled her finger from Kari's mouth. Elysia shivered, but tried to ignore his notice. He didn't rat her out to Neil, and that was what mattered.

"Gavin." Neil's voice made Elysia jump. Had he seen?

"Shove in the drawer and come with me," Neil continued. "We're leaving."

Elysia took a step back as Gavin did as he was told.

"You, too, Elysia," Neil said.

"Where are we going?" She walked toward him, and Gavin slammed the door shut behind her.

"I can't leave you here to tell Doug what I've done."

"I'm not going back to Doug."

"What a shame." Neil shook his head. "He'll be heartbroken, but I'm afraid you can't just... go."

"But—"

"I could kill you."

She didn't have an argument for that.

"Once you go insane perhaps, I'll return you to him—in front of his father. That should prove amusing."

She stopped beside him, keeping him between her and Gavin. "What makes you think I'll go crazy?"

"You're not as strong as I am. One whisper of a possible curse, and you cave in to despair. I was born stunted, my life has been nothing but despair—and now I stand on the cusp of having it all." A wink, and he turned toward the door. "Come along, you two."

She glanced toward James's drawer. "Kari," she whispered, not sure the girl could hear her, let alone if she would obey. "Free the grim from his drawer."

# Chapter Fifteen

"It seems apt, don't you think?" Neil stopped to let her get a good look at the mausoleum.

Elysia stared at the name carved over the door. The sun was rising and the weak light left most of the cemetery in shadow, except for a bright beam of sunlight that had snagged on the name, illuminating it in an odd brilliance. Mallory.

"Come inside. I want to show you something." Neil walked toward the mausoleum, winding his way among the headstones to the rusted door.

Aware of Gavin standing behind her, Elysia hurried after Neil.

A simple hasp was the mausoleum's only security. Neil pulled out a flashlight and led her inside. The derelict building had multiple holes in the roof, letting in some of the early morning light. It left the musty place shrouded in shadows, and she longed for a flashlight of her own.

Elysia came to a stop, eyeing the black stone sarcophagus in the center of the room.

Neil walked ahead of her, shining his flashlight on the lid. She was close enough to see the name and sucked in a breath. This was Ian Mallory's tomb. Ian Mallory, the alchemist and ancestor who had cursed her line.

"I guess you recognize the name." Neil gave her a smile. He turned to Gavin. "Remove the lid."

Gavin stepped forward and, without comment, began to wrestle the heavy lid from the sarcophagus. His movements were easy and sure, and though he grunted with the awkwardness of the large lid, he seemed to already possess the strength of the dead.

Elysia gripped her hands as Gavin finally slid the lid off. She didn't want to peer inside.

"Don't look so concerned." Neil stepped up to the side of the sarcophagus. "Look."

She had seen death in various states. The dead didn't frighten her the way they seemed to scare the untalented, but this was one grave she didn't want to gaze into. What if he had been Made. What if—

Neil's potion still commanded her obedience, and her legs carried her over to join him. He pointed his flashlight inside and she gasped. It wasn't a sarcophagus, it was a stairway leading down into a crypt.

"Ingenious, huh?" Neil hopped up to sit on the waist-high wall and swung his legs over. "Come on." He started down the stairs, taking his light with him and leaving Elysia in the gloom with Gavin. That, as much as the command, got her moving.

She climbed up on the wall.

"Shall I help you?" Gavin moved closer, his eyes glowing faintly.

"No, I got it." She swung her legs over.

Gavin was beside her in an instant. "Remember, you promised." His hot breath stirred the hair beside her ear.

"I know." She swung her legs over and hurried down the steps after Neil.

Neil waited a short distance away, standing in the center of a dark red area rug. A pair of wingback chairs sat to either side of a small table. The walls were lined with shelves and though empty, they were oddly clean, as if someone had dusted them recently.

A soft thump, and Gavin landed on the rug behind her.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

"At one time, a library and a lab." Neil turned away, and his flashlight illuminated a doorway beneath the stairs. She followed him down the narrow hall until they stood in a second, more sparely furnished room. This one held only a couple of tables and a set of rough shelves.

"Ian was a very talented alchemist for his day. Some of the things he accomplished, even in the absence of New Magic, were truly amazing. Once, this room held an impressive lab."

"Why am I here?" Elysia cut in.

Neil turned to face her. "You're not interested in your ancestor's accomplishments?"

"Not particularly."

"Huh." He turned and led her back to the first room. "Here's the thing. I've had a bit of bad luck lately, and I'm short on places to keep you that Doug doesn't know about."

"You're leaving me here," she whispered.

"Well, yes. But don't worry, I'll keep you fed and bring you some blankets. Not sure what to do about a bathroom." He shook his head. "It's so much easier with a lich, but that's not an option any more." He ran his light over the walls as he spoke, seeming to consider the amenities.

"Please don't do this."

He turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Elysia. This is a shitty way to reward you. After all, you netted me this wonderful opportunity." He waved a hand toward Gavin. "Maybe I can brew a potion to wipe your memory. Such things can be done, but they're touchy. Brain chemistry was never my strong suit."

Her mouth had gone dry.

"Have a seat." He shined his light on one of the wing chairs.

She walked over and sat, her legs shaking the whole way.

"I'll even let you keep my flashlight." He laid it on the table beside her. "I'll need to find some matches and a few candles. There are wall sconces. The place won't be nearly so gloomy then."

Elysia had stopped listening; her attention was on the flashlight still rocking from side-to-side on the table. How long would the batteries last?

"Come along, Gavin." Neil climbed the steps and Gavin fell in behind him.

Elysia swallowed as Gavin looked back at her, his eyes still aglow in the dimness. At least she had gotten out of giving him a "taste." But, oh God, the price.

The two men disappeared upstairs. Moments later, the sarcophagus lid began to slide into place, leaving her alone, in the dark.

Elysia lost track of the time as the flashlight beam grew dimmer and dimmer. She debated repeatedly whether to turn it off and save the battery, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't touch it, afraid that jostling it would knock the last of the power from the battery or damage the delicate wire within the bulb.

She didn't know how long she sat there staring at the faint light of that tiny bulb before she realized that the glow was only in her imagination. She reached for the flashlight. Her fingers slid across the smooth surface of the table, and her knuckles bumped against the hard plastic case of the flashlight, causing it to roll. She made a grab for it, but it eluded her, rolling off the table to smash against the floor where the area rug didn't reach. The sound of smaller pieces clattering against the stone was distinctive.

Oh God, no.

She slid off the chair, noting that Neil's potion must have finally worn off, and felt beneath the table. Her hand ran across something sharp, and it bit into her palm.

With a gasp, she jerked her hand away, imagining a large rat or perhaps a spider hiding beneath the table.

"It's a broken flashlight," she whispered. But even with that knowledge, she couldn't bring herself to reach again.

"Don't do this, El." She had to stay calm, rational. It was only darkness. Complete and total darkness.

_El?_

Her breath caught. The whispers were returning.

"Shh. It's only a ghost." Not encroaching insanity.

A light tug of her hair, and she jerked away, crawling on her hands and knees until she cracked her head against the wall.

She groaned, holding her head until the thumping stopped.

_Elysia_.

She spun around and pressed her back to the wall. Ghosts, just ghosts. She repeated the line in her head a few more times.

What if Ian Mallory was still down here? He would be pissed that a descendant had survived his curse. Perhaps he would want to finish the job.

Her mind leaped to the dark doorway beneath the stairs. The lab was back that way. Ian's lab.

She strained her ears, listening. Was that the faint clink of someone stirring a beaker? The scuff of a shoe against stone?

"Stop this," she whispered. Stop, stop, stop. It was her imagination. Nothing more.

She pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her face against them. Neil would return soon. He said he would bring candles, matches. She would have light.

A scrape against stone, then the soft thump of a step on carpet.

She hugged her legs and pressed her face tighter against her knees. Just her imagination.

Another light thump. Closer. Silence, then an exhale followed by a sniff that sounded canine.

James! She jerked her head up, opening her eyes, and screamed.

Red eyes glowed, several inches above the level of her own and only a few yards away. She shoved herself to her feet. It wasn't James.

The eyes rose as she did, ending up well above her head.

"You're bleeding," a voice rasped in the darkness. Gavin.

"I cut my hand," she whispered, her heart pounding so hard she couldn't hear his tread as he closed the distance between them.

"Yes, it's fresh, smeared between here and the chair." His hand encircled her wrist. He didn't fumble around, clearly able to see in total darkness.

"Please get me out of here."

"You are the master's."

He pulled her hand away from where she had clenched it at her waist, his strength unbreakable. He pried her fingers open with his other hand.

"I don't like the dark. Please?" She hated to beg, but he was a way out.

He lifted her hand. Hot breath across her palm followed by the rough wetness of his tongue. He growled, and every hair on her body stood up.

"Take me out of here." She gasped as his too sharp teeth bit into the heel of her hand.

"Soon," he snarled, then pressed her against the wall. Still sucking on her hand, he moved his body against hers, and she realized he was naked.

# Chapter Sixteen

James pressed his cheek against the cold metal surface, trying to get his hand a little further through the space between the wall and the tray he lay on. But it was no use. His fingers didn't even reach the bottom of the drawer. The key had rattled to a stop right beneath him, so tantalizingly close.

He lay there, panting, trying to think of some way to get to the key. He had nothing to work with. Not a stitch of clothing. Nothing except the collar that was the problem in the first place.

A sense of anxiety had set in during the last few minutes. He couldn't explain it, but he knew Elysia was in trouble. He gripped the edge of the tray, rocking it from side to side in an attempt to knock it off track and widen the gap.

Something crashed in the room outside his drawer. Had Neil returned? He had to get that key.

Without warning, light flooded his drawer and he froze. A gasp. "You are here." The tray rolled out and James stared up in shocked silence. It was the girl from the convenience store. "Elysia asked me to free you." She gave him a tentative smile. "I'm Kari."

"James." He rolled onto his side and tumbled off the drawer, getting a gasp from her. He landed on his hands and knees at her feet.

"You don't look so good."

"I'm bleeding out." James pushed himself to his feet and reached into the drawer for the key. It took a bit of fumbling before he gripped it in his fist.

"What's that?"

"The key to my collar." He slid down the wall, his back thumping across the mortuary drawers until he sat on the cold tile. He fumbled with the lock, trying to insert the key.

Kari squatted beside him. "Do you want me to—"

"Stay away. My blood is toxic. One drop is lethal."

"I'm already dead," she whispered.

"It'll still banish your soul from the mortal plane."

She pulled back her hand. "Oh."

A bit more fumbling, and he finally got the lock open. He tossed the collar aside.

"Move back," he said.

Once Kari was clear, he slid into his other form.

"Good God," she whispered. "I didn't imagine it."

James barely heard her words, momentarily lost in the joy of being whole. He pulled open the portal and tensed to spring. He would soul track Elysia and find where Neil had taken her. He didn't like the way Gavin stared at her.

"Stop!"

James heard Kari gasp as familiar power slammed into him. He turned with a snarl.

Doug stood inside the door. "Don't move. Either of you." Doug gave Kari a frown before turning back to James. "Change."

Another powerful compulsion, and James was once more human. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he braced a hand against the floor to steady himself. He had lost a lot of blood. This form wasn't the best choice at the moment.

"What's going on? And who the hell is this?" Doug stopped before them, waving a hand at Kari.

James ignored the question. "Neil has Elysia. He left me here to bleed out and—"

"Elysia? She was here?"

"You're not listening. Neil took her. Let me change. I can soul track her—"

"You'll remain as you are."

"He's telling the truth," Kari spoke up.

"Who are you?"

"Kari. Kari Anderson."

"That's who you were. Who Made you?"

"Elysia."

Doug snapped his open mouth closed. "You're the lich from the hospital."

"Yes."

_James!_

James came to his feet. "I need to go. Now!"

"Hell's blood." Doug gave him a glare. "Calm your—"

James leapt across the space between them. He caught Doug by the shoulders and slammed him against the mortuary drawers before he could finish the command. Doug's head smacked the door with a hollow thump.

Hoping it was enough to daze him, James sprang away, calling the hound.

"Stop!"

The command hit him so hard that James stumbled and fell against the nearest table. The bond tightened as Elysia cried out to him again. James whirled to face Doug. "She's screaming."

"What are you—"

"Elysia is screaming!"

"How do you know?"

"The bond. She screamed my name. Something's wrong." Another cry echoed through his mind, and he doubled over, clasping his head.

Doug's expensive loafers came into view. "She's cut off from her power. She can't call you."

James straightened. "If you love her at all, let me help her."

Doug frowned, his expression uncertain. "I don't trust you, dead man." His eyes went white. "You will take me with you."

"I'll be traveling through the land of the dead."

"I'm a necromancer. Death does not frighten me."

James was tired of arguing with him. He needed to move. Now. "Step back."

Doug didn't look happy about it, but he obeyed.

"I'm going with you." Kari stepped up beside Doug.

Doug opened his mouth to argue, but James cut him off. "I'll open the portal. You two step through."

"What about you?" Doug demanded.

"I'll be right behind you." James shifted forms and dropped to all fours. _Hang on, Elysia_. He opened the portal and Kari immediately stepped through.

Doug stepped up to the edge, squinting his eyes as he tried to see into the darkness.

Annoyed with the delay, James sprang. He butted into Doug, knocking him through the portal and followed, his form changing on its own. He landed in a crouch on two legs, one clawed hand braced against the soft ground. The portal winked closed behind him.

"Dear God." Kari pressed a hand to her mouth, her wide eyes on James. The glow of her soul looked so mundane next to the brilliance of Doug's.

"What the hell," Doug whispered, his expression shocked as he stared at what James had become.

James rose to his full height, now a good foot taller than Doug. It was always a bit disconcerting to face a familiar figure in this form. The added height and the keenness of his senses made the experience surreal.

_My true form_ , he explained. It was odd to be here without Gavin.

"I knew you would deceive me," Doug said. "Take us back."

James tensed, ready for the slam of Doug's power, but it never came. James smiled, or tried to with a muzzle full of teeth. _Your power doesn't work here, necromancer_. James remembered how he had once escaped another necromancer by coming here. Only Elysia and her soul bond could call him back.

"You intend to abandon me here." Doug's eyes narrowed.

_Give it a rest_. James turned his attention outward. _Now be quiet and let me track her_.

"She's here?"

_Not necessarily_. James stepped away from them and took a deep breath. He thought of Elysia and the brilliant taste of her soul. There, a whiff of strawberries, and damp stone. Darkness, underground. _She's still in the mortal plane_.

Focused, he didn't know if Kari or Doug spoke. James reached out and ripped open a portal. The space on the other side even darker than this place.

_Jump through_ , James commanded.

"But—" Doug didn't get to finish his excuse when Elysia screamed, the sound of her voice echoing off the walls beyond the portal. A snarl answered her.

James shoved Doug and Kari through and jumped out after them. He landed on four paws, his back claws clacking against stone while his front paws landed on carpet. The room was without light, but the hound had no trouble seeing in the total darkness.

Elysia was in the far corner, though James sensed her more than saw her. His view was blocked by a naked man's back, one he had seen many times before. Brian. No, Gavin.

James lifted his lips, but before the snarl could escape, the area was flooded with a bright bluish light. Doug had pulled out his cell phone.

"What the hell?" Doug whispered.

Gavin whirled to face him. A snarl twisted his blood-smeared mouth, and his crimson eyes were on full glow.

James shifted human, but Gavin was faster than he expected and cleared the space between him and Doug in a single leap, ebony claws glinting at his fingertips.

"Stop!" Doug shouted. His power slammed into James, freezing him as he became human, but it seemed to have no effect on Gavin.

Chuckling, Gavin lifted an arm to take a slash at Doug. Darkness swirled around his claws, and James stared in shock. Gavin's claws weren't an extension of the hellhound's claws. These belonged to his true form. Claws that could rip the soul from a mortal body.

Suddenly Kari was there. She stepped in front of Doug, and Gavin's slash took her across the upper chest. She screamed, then collapsed at his feet.

Doug stumbled backward, but his feet tangled with the edge of the rug, and he fell on his butt. His cell phone landed on the carpet with a thunk, but the light stayed on, illuminating the monster standing over him.

Gavin straightened and held up his hand. Iridescent shimmers clung to his claws. He flicked his hand and the shimmers flew free, coalescing into a glowing orb.

"Jesus," Doug whispered.

The orb shot across the room and disappeared into Elysia's chest. She doubled over with a grunt.

"Elysia?" James took a step toward her.

She straightened and, without a word, opened a portal and jumped through.

James pulled in a breath. He knew Elysia could open portals, but he had never seen her do it.

Gavin chuckled. "Now we hunt, little brother." He ran back across the room, and right before he reached the wall, he slashed out with his claws and physically ripped open a new portal before jumping through.

James blinked. He hadn't become the hellhound to open the portal. It seemed like Gavin's true form had merged with Brian's body.

"What was that?" Doug whispered.

"My fellow grim. Neil resurrected him with my blood." James reached down and gripped the necromancer by the front of his shirt and jerked him to his feet. "Do not use your power around him. It only worked on me." James glanced down at Kari's still form. He didn't need to touch her to know she was gone.

"But I felt his death," Doug whispered. His cell phone, still lying on the carpet, winked out. Doug gasped.

James released him and stepped back to shift into the hellhound.

"James?" Doug sounded worried.

James ripped open the portal and jumped through, then reached back and caught it before it closed.

_Get in here_.

Doug obeyed without comment.

# Chapter Seventeen

Gavin and Elysia weren't anywhere in sight. James once again sent his awareness outward, sniffing, hunting. Excitement quivered within him, humming across his senses. The Hunt. This was what he was made for.

There. A whiff of strawberries. Close. She was still among the dead.

Without warning, James caught Doug's upper arm. His claws bit through the fabric of Doug's shirt, and the necromancer gasped—then shouted as James jumped. It was impossible to judge distance, but James didn't think about it. He trusted his senses.

Doug's shout cut out when they landed. James released him, and the necromancer fell to his knees.

Elysia stood a few yards away, her clothes torn from Gavin's claws, and the perfume of her blood scenting the air in a way that had James strangling a groan.

Gavin stood before her, his form the mesh of human and hellhound James knew so well, but Gavin was no longer the emaciated shadow of a former grim. His black fur gleamed over muscle, a lot more muscle than James's smaller form possessed.

Gavin glanced at him. _We have an obstacle, little brother_.

Kari stood between Gavin and Elysia. She wore a brilliant gown that glowed almost as brightly as her skin. James didn't understand why he had considered her glow dim before.

Elysia turned with a gasp, her wide white eyes settling on James.

_It's me,_ he reassured her.

"J-James?"

Gavin snarled. With eyes squinted against the brightness, he sprang forward, slashing at Kari's glowing form.

Her image blurred, swirling into the glowing orb, and darted out of his path. When she stopped, her human shape reappeared.

_I won't let you hurt her,_ she whispered.

Gavin growled and sprang again.

When Kari became the orb this time, she didn't try to elude him. She streaked toward him and vanished into his chest, just as she had entered Elysia earlier.

Gavin snarled and spun in a circle, swiping at something James couldn't see. Suddenly he stopped. He flexed his right hand, extending his claws. Then rammed them into his own chest.

James straightened, shocked by what Gavin had done.

Gavin pulled his claws free, the remnants of Kari's glittering soul clinging to his fingers. He lifted his hand to his mouth and James tackled him. The impact took them to the ground, and Kari's soul flew free, her shriveled orb winking pitifully.

"Kari, use me!" Elysia cried.

"Elysia, no!" Doug pushed himself to his feet.

_Protect my son,_ Kari whispered, her form fading.

"Always." Elysia reached out a hand, but Doug caught her wrist and pulled her back.

Elysia jabbed an elbow at him, but it was already too late. Kari was gone.

James didn't get to watch the rest as Gavin took a swipe at him. James jumped back, narrowly avoiding his claws. They were both on their feet an instant later.

_Mine,_ Gavin breathed, rabid eyes on Elysia.

James held his ground, positioning himself between her and Gavin. _No. Elysia belongs to me._ The words were out before James realized what he said. The bond surged to life, and he heard Elysia gasp.

"It _is_ you," she whispered. "James!" Her power flowed into him, swelling that sliver of her own soul buried deep within him.

Gavin turned his head in James's direction, his pupils shrinking within the red irises. That's when James noticed the glow. For a moment, he thought Doug had pulled out his cell phone, then he realized that the glow emanated from somewhere much closer.

James lifted his arm. Light seeped out between the dense fur that covered his body. His skin was glowing.

Gavin snarled and lashed out at him.

Distracted, James reacted too slowly, and Gavin's claws raked across his chest. He yelped as liquid fire erupted beneath his skin.

_You've got to be quicker than that_. Gavin lifted his hand, a faint iridescent glow coloring his claws. A remnant of Kari or was it... James's?

James pressed a hand to his chest.

_You understand_. Gavin chuckled, then lashed out again.

James sensed it coming and managed to avoid taking damage. They began to circle each other, two undead monsters with the ability to rip souls from the living—and the dead.

On the next pass, James lunged, ducking beneath Gavin's claws and taking a swipe at his gut. Gavin twisted to the side, and James only scored a glancing blow. Even so, Gavin yelped and danced away.

James glanced at the sheen on his own claws. Dead God. Did they have souls here? Here where their two forms were one? Elysia had once told him that he possessed a soul, it just wasn't on the mortal plane.

Gavin attacked, leading with his foot this time—a clawed foot aimed at James's face.

James wasn't used to fighting in this form. He pulled back, but not enough. Gavin's foot slammed into his sensitive muzzle.

James yelped as fire ignited within his nasal cavities, making his eyes sting and water. He stumbled to the side, blinking furiously to clear his vision.

Without warning, he was seized around the throat and lifted from the ground, only to be hurled aside. He landed hard on his side, rolling on impact. The roll saved him as Gavin's clawed feet thumped down where James had been.

Still blinking, James sprang to his feet. He shook his head, trying to track Gavin's movements, when a roundhouse kick took him upside the head. James fell to the ground, this time landing at Elysia's feet.

"Ely, open a portal," Doug said, his voice pitched low and urgent. "The guy's got almost a foot in height and close to a hundred pounds on him. We need to run while he lasts."

_Get up, little brother,_ Gavin called. _Don't quit on me now_.

Elysia ignored Doug, squatting beside James while keeping an eye on Gavin. "You're not done." She touched a finger to his muzzle. Then cautiously slipped it between his fangs to his tongue. Ambrosia exploded across his senses, and it took every ounce of will not to clamp down on her finger.

"Get up," she whispered.

_No_. Gavin snarled and swatted her away. He used the back of his hand, so his claws didn't find purchase, but the powerful blow threw her several yards. She landed hard, and didn't get up.

Furious, James shoved himself off the ground and lunged at Gavin. His claws ripped into Gavin's thigh, digging deep.

Gavin yelped, then whirled, lashing out as he spun.

James rolled out of his path and sprang to his feet.

_You like the necromancer_. Gavin's voice had almost a singsong quality. _Very foolish_.

Doug had crawled over to Elysia. He brushed her long blonde hair from her face. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn't fully open.

Gavin moved closer and James attacked again. The power of Elysia's blood still roared through him. He caught Gavin across his biceps with a slashing blow.

Gavin snarled and clutched his arm. _She will betray you_. He released his arm and took a swing at James. The wound in his thigh was gone, and the one in his arm already shrinking. They began to circle each other again. They landed blows and dodged them in equal measure, leaving no lasting damage behind. It became a contest of who would tire first.

The surge Elysia's blood had given him faded quickly. Gavin's blows connected more frequently, and James realized the injuries did take a toll. It took energy to heal them.

James's fatigue got the better of him when he tripped over his own feet trying to avoid a blow to the face. He dropped to one knee, but to his surprise, Gavin backed off.

_Tsk, tsk. You need to feed more_.

James pushed himself to his feet. _Feed?_

Gavin gave him an approximation of a grin through a muzzle full of teeth. Then ran his tongue over one claw, lapping off the faint iridescent sheen. He shivered. _A recommendation: magical souls are the tastiest_. Gavin exhaled. _But damn, a grim beats them all_.

_My soul_.

_Yes_. Gavin gave him another twisted grin.

_But you stuck your claws within yourself_. James remembered how Gavin had extracted Kari.

_Must I explain everything? I am bound to the mortal plane, again. It takes more effort to rip a soul bound to multiple places_.

Their true form, human and hellhound. The human was of the mortal world; the hellhound belonged to this one.

Gavin moved like lightning, connecting an upper cut to James's lower jaw. The blow snapped his head back and smashed his teeth into his tongue.

James staggered to the side, but before he could recover, a second blow connected with the side of his head.

James was falling. A clawed hand gripped his shoulder and dug in, pulling a cry from him.

_Consuming your soul might give me enough power to break the necromancer's hold_. He clutched James's stomach, digging his claws in so deep, James imagined them brushing his spine. This time he howled in agony.

Gavin curled his fingers, raking his razor sharp claws through James's intestines. Then he pulled.

James caught Gavin's shoulders, digging in his own claws, but it was too little, too late. Gavin fisted his soul and James screamed.

_I told you this was our true form_. Gavin whispered.

"No, it's not." Elysia's hand came to rest in the center of James's back. "Release him, grim. He's mine."

The bond flared to life in all its glory. No, not just the bond. Elysia. She flowed into him. The power of life slammed through James's withering body, flowing outward until it reached the tips of his toes and the end of each hair.

Gavin yelped and jumped back as light once again erupted from James's skin.

Elysia rubbed her hand over his shoulder blade. "You are mine, James Daniel Huntsman."

James cried out, arching his back as the power built, then exploded outward.

Elysia's hand slid up to his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and discovered the area around them bathed in light.

Gavin took one step back, then another. Abruptly, he turned and ran. Before he had gone two strides, he vanished.

"Damn," James said. "He's gone."

Elysia chuckled. "I happen to think that's a good thing."

James heard her words, but didn't respond. It occurred to him that he had spoken—out loud. He lifted his hand and touched his lips. They were human. Taking his hand from his lips, he stared at it. Though it glowed so brightly he had to squint, it was his hand. An average human hand. No fur, no claws.

Elysia slipped around in front of him. She was squinting as well, but an odd smile curled her mouth. " _This_ is your true form."

James realized that she hadn't slid her hand up to his shoulder earlier, he had morphed out of the seven-foot monster into... himself.

"How?" he whispered.

Her brow furled. "I'm not exactly sure."

He laughed and pulled her against him, belatedly remembering he was naked. She didn't seem to mind, wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her cheek to his chest. Her sigh sounded relieved, and he thought, contented.

"What just happened?" Doug asked, his tone lacking the usual force.

James startled a little at his voice. He had forgotten all about the guy.

Elysia must have noticed because she laughed softly before lifting her head. "Send him home?" Her white eyes met James's.

"You don't want the honors?"

"I'm not sure how I got here."

James smiled. "That's getting to be a theme."

"I'm serious. But I think maybe Kari brought me here." Sadness filled her eyes.

"Ely." Doug stepped up beside them, seeming to gather his composure. "I didn't know what Neil was up to. You begged me to free the grim."

Elysia turned toward him, though she kept one arm around James's waist, her cheek still against his chest. "I asked for your help and you betrayed me."

"Betrayed? Neil acted on his own. I didn't—"

"Not about the potion, about James."

The bond tightened, and James drew a shallow breath. She squeezed his hip, feeling it, too.

"You planned to give him to your father," she continued. "Do you deny it?"

Doug frowned. "No. I don't get how that's betrayal. I did as you asked, and if you didn't know, it wouldn't be on your conscience."

James tried to keep his amazement in check, but Elysia must have felt his soft snort. She looked up, brows raised.

"Sorry. His arrogance is impressive."

Doug crossed his arms. "Don't start, dead man."

"See, right there." Elysia released James to fully face Doug—much to James's disappointment. "You have no respect for the dead."

"Respect for—" Doug dropped his arms. "Ely, you know that's not a healthy attitude."

"About a corpse. I'm talking about a lich, or a grim. They're as much in the mortal world as we are. Kari gave her life for you. Did you even notice?"

"She was already dead."

"Physically. Metaphysically she was as alive as you or me. She was still bound to the mortal plane, and she had a child she very much wanted to see."

"Seriously," Doug said. "You need to stop this. Has Neil's potion—"

"James?" She turned to face him. "Please open the portal."

James ignored Doug's protest and did as she asked. He considered dropping him into that crypt, but opened a doorway to the city morgue instead. The portal opened a few feet away, the bright light from the florescent bulbs pouring through the doorway.

"Ely." Doug tried again.

"Just go," she said.

He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more, then turned and walked toward the portal.

Elysia's shoulders slumped with what James hoped was fatigue, and not dejection. He laid a hand on the small of her back, silently asking if she was all right. She surprised him by leaning against him.

"And Doug?" Elysia called.

He stopped, then slowly turned to face them.

"Consider our engagement off."

James slid his arms around her waist, knowing it wasn't his place, but remembering well how Doug had mocked him. He tensed when she ran her hands along his forearms, but she covered his hands with hers instead of pushing him away.

Doug watched the movement, then gave her a single nod. "James."

Having the necromancer address him by name was a shock.

"Take her to Addie," Doug continued. "She's a troublemaker, but a talented troublemaker."

"Consider it done," James said.

Another nod, and Doug stepped into the morgue.

James let the portal go and Elysia sighed. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes. No." She turned to face him. "Thanks for coming."

"I would have come sooner, but your dumbass ex-fiancé wouldn't listen."

She smiled. A sad smile.

He lifted a hand to her face and gently rubbed his thumb beneath a gash along her cheekbone. "How bad did Gavin hurt you?"

"I'll be okay, though I'll probably be afraid of the dark for a while."

"I can see in the dark."

"Handy." She looked up, holding his gaze. "You risked your soul to save me."

"I didn't even know I had one."

"I told you that you did."

"Guess I should listen to you."

"Perhaps." The corner of her mouth curled upward.

He continued to rub her cheek with his thumb.

"Heal me?"

He met her eyes, those white eyes. He would fix that problem soon; he would take her to Addie. But first, her request. He turned his attention to the slowly bleeding wound. This he could fix. He leaned down and ran his tongue along her cheekbone. Ambrosia. He swallowed and her power filled him once more. Dear God, he could never get enough of this.

Her palms came to rest against his stomach, then slid upward. He sucked in a breath as she simultaneously ran both hands across his nipples on her way up to encircle his neck.

"Ornery necromancer." He ran his tongue along her undamaged cheekbone once more.

"Yes." She turned her head and pressed her lips to his.

A groan that was almost a growl escaped his throat. His hands settled on her hips and he pulled her closer.

A howl sounded in the distance, and Elysia gasped. James lifted his head and snarled.

"Was that him?" she whispered. She pulled away from him, physically and magically.

"No, that was a hellhound, not a grim. I suspect it caught your scent."

His skin tingled, and he glanced down. The glow began to fade, black fur replacing it. "I'm changing back."

Elysia turned to face him, watching the transformation. He hoped it was wonder and not fear that widened her eyes. "I dreamed about you once," she whispered. "As the monster."

Monster. He sighed. "It wasn't a dream. Somehow, you managed to sleepwalk into the land of the dead. I went after you."

She looked around. "Is that what I'm doing? I've had that recurring dream since I was a child." The howl came again, closer, and she turned to face the sound. "What if a hellhound had gotten me?"

"There's this cloaked woman. She protects you while you're here."

"And tells me stories."

James remembered Elysia telling him about that. He started to say as much and realized he couldn't speak. He towered over her now, and when he lifted a hand, he found it clawed and covered in fur. He sighed, the sound closer to a low snarl.

"Scary."

_Yes_.

She studied him a moment, then reached up to pull down his head. Rolling up on her toes, she kissed the underside of his jaw. "I'm so very afraid."

He bowed his head, touched by her acceptance. Even Addie, who accepted him in every way had been terrified of this form. _Thank you_.

Elysia smiled.

And speaking of Addie. _I'll take you to my friend. She'll help you get your power back_.

"Your friend, the alchemist."

_She's a good person. You'll like her_.

"How do you know she can fix me?"

_She's brilliant. I know because I'm her apprentice_.

"You're an alchemist?"

_Studying to be one_.

She released a breath. "Then I guess they're not all evil."

_Not all_. He reached out to open a portal right into Addie's shop and hesitated. Perhaps it would be best if he spoke to her first. _I'll call her. Let her get started on your antidote. My phone is at my apartment. Let's stop there first_.

"You can take us to Athens?"

_Yes. Is that all right?_

"That would be great."

_Good. Let me grab some clothes first. Your roommate's attire doesn't do anything for me_.

She laughed. "Okay."

He pulled open the portal into his living room in Athens. Elysia stepped through and he followed, his paws making a soft thump against the thick carpet.

"This is so cool," she said, no doubt referring to the speed of traveling this way.

He shifted forms to tell her that _she_ was able to do the same thing, but he didn't get the words out. The dizziness hit him again, harder. He fell forward, bracing his hands against the floor while he waited for it to pass.

"James?" Elysia knelt beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, I forgot. Neil took a lot of blood. If I stay human, I'll have to sleep." He lifted his head, focusing on the phone on the end table. "Let me call Addie, then I can shift back and we can—"

"If you need to sleep, then sleep. That can wait."

He turned to face her, meeting her white eyes. "But your power..."

"I'll be fine... as long as I'm around you." She smiled, then rose to her feet. "Come on, let's get you in bed." She offered a hand.

He took her hand, though he was still capable of standing on his own. He also let her loop his arm around her shoulders and help him upstairs. Unfortunately, he didn't last long once she tucked him in bed. He cursed Neil thoroughly when she lay down beside him, and he could do nothing but drift into a dreamless sleep.

# Chapter Eighteen

Elysia sat up, awakened from a deep sleep she hadn't expected to take. The sound that woke her still reverberated through the apartment. What it was, or what had caused it remained a mystery.

She glanced over at James, but his breathing was still deep and even. The noise hadn't disturbed his healing sleep. Checking the clock, she was surprised to see that almost five hours had passed. She must have been more tired than she realized.

Pushing back the covers, she slid from the bed, tugging the T-shirt she had borrowed into place. She moved toward the bedroom door. No need to wake James. She could handle this.

_Grim, grim, grim,_ a voice whispered. The tone agitated.

Elysia stopped. "Reggie?"

James grumbled in his sleep. Was Reggie trying to wake him—or warn him?

Gavin.

Elysia's heart surged, and the accompanying wave of adrenaline left her dizzy. In her powerless state, she could do nothing. The only one who had a chance of stopping Gavin was James. She hurried back to his bedside and gripped his shoulder.

The bedroom door flew open, slamming against the wall with enough force to bounce back, almost closing again.

Elysia turned to face the threat, James's name on her lips, when a woman stepped into the room. Elysia sagged in relief. It was the girl James had been arguing with behind the bar. The one in the photo downstairs. Elysia straightened and turned to face her, just as the girl flicked on the overhead light.

"Are you—" A violent gust of air lifted Elysia off her feet and slung her across the room—until the wall stopped her flight.

"Necromancer." The girl crossed the room, her long stride confident. The overhead light glinted off her odd metallic-amber eyes. "James?" she said over her shoulder.

Elysia pushed off the wall, rubbing the back of her head. "He can't answer you. He's—"

"What have you done to him?" A concerned glance at James, and the girl moved closer.

"Nothing."

"Your eyes are white. That means you're using your magic. Release him, or I swear I'll rip the air from your lungs."

New Magic, definitely. Elysia should have realized it by the way she had said _necromancer_. What was this girl's power?

Elysia opened her mouth to ask, but nothing entered her lungs when she tried to pull in a breath.

"Release him," the girl repeated.

Elysia lifted a hand to her throat. She couldn't draw any air to speak. How could she explain that she wasn't using her magic, that James was in a healing sleep?

"That's right," the girl answered. "I can do this all day."

Elysia took a step toward her, and suddenly she was airborne again. She smacked into the wall once more, but the gust of air that had thrown her was gone. Elysia's chest tightened, and her heart hammered out of control.

_James!_ she screamed in her mind, not even sure it would work. _Help me!_

He sat up with a gasp, and she wanted to sob with relief. He glanced from her to the other woman, then vaulted from the bed to land behind Elysia's attacker. Staying at her back, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"James!" She tried to turn, but he didn't let her.

"Let her go," he said.

"She's a necromancer. What if—"

"She's my friend. Let her go, Era."

Elysia could suddenly breathe again. She bent over and gripped her knees, drawing a deep breath into her quivering lungs.

"Jesus, James. You're naked," the woman, Era said.

"Well, don't look. You _are_ in my bedroom." He squatted down beside Elysia. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She took another breath and straightened.

He rose beside her, his gaze sliding down over the T-shirt she wore. His T-shirt. After he had passed out, she had taken the liberty of using his shower and washing machine. She hadn't been comfortable leaving him alone, or walking to her place by herself.

Elysia glanced at Era and was surprised that the girl turned her back. "My clothes are in your dryer. I'll go get dressed." She started to move away, but his hand on her waist stopped her.

He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. "Are you wearing anything under my shirt?"

"No."

His growl was soft. "I'm going to strangle her."

Elysia smiled, knowing his temperament too well to believe him. "Thank her," she whispered. "I had planned to be dressed before you woke." She squeezed his arm and stepped past him. Giving Era a wide berth, she headed for the door.

Dressed in her slightly wrinkled, but clean clothes, Elysia lifted the phone from its charging cradle. James and Era were still in his room, their raised voices carrying down the stairs on occasion. The distance and the closed door muffled the words, so Elysia didn't catch any of it. She could guess the topic though.

But she would worry about the opinion of James's magical friend later. She took a deep breath and dialed Grams's number.

"Elysia, where have you been?" Grams started in as soon as Elysia identified herself. "I tried to call you at Doug's all day yesterday. The last I heard, you had let some alchemist give you a potion. Did it work?"

All too well, but she didn't want to worry Grams with those details. "I'm no longer with Doug. He betrayed me, Grams."

"The bastard took the grim from you, didn't he?"

It took Elysia a moment to find her voice. "Did you call Doug a bastard?"

"All the Nelson line is, but he seemed nicer than most." Grams sighed. "I guess I was wrong—or I deluded myself. Did he give the grim to his father?"

"No. There isn't a necromancer alive who's powerful enough to take James from me. And that includes the bastard's father."

"What happened, Ely?"

She opened her mouth, ready to tell it all, and stopped. No, she wouldn't draw Grams or the rest of the Family into this. This was her fight. "The details aren't important, but I'm not going to let them destroy the Family. We're not going down without a fight."

Grams was silent a moment. "We?"

"Yes." Elysia turned to pace across the room and pulled up short. James stood inside the opening to the foyer. He wore dark jeans and another pair of his favorite boots, but his chest was still bare. His eyes locked with hers. "The Nelson family has lorded over us long enough," Elysia answered her grandmother. "It's time we stopped letting them."

"What are you going to do?" Grams asked.

Elysia remembered Neil's words, how he claimed the Deacon would fear her. Could she use that to her advantage? "Leave it to me."

"Ely, listen. The grim was just a status symbol. I never intended for you to actually use him."

"I don't _use_ James, and I never will," Elysia said with heat. "Hang on to the house, Grams. I'll talk to you soon." She ended the call and looked up to meet James's eyes once more, but before either of them could speak, Era joined them.

"His flight doesn't land until ten," she said to James, her attention on her phone. "If we leave now, we'll beat him in."

James turned to face her. "I can't believe he took the red eye."

"He was worried about you." Era tucked her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. "We all were." She took a step into the room and stopped, her frown on Elysia. "I'll get my things." Era turned on her heel and left the apartment.

"She's not happy about me," Elysia said.

"She'll be fine once she gets to know you."

Elysia sighed. "She's New Magic, isn't she?"

James studied her a moment, then nodded. "Yes. She's going with us to Cincinnati, so I'll have to drive. She can't travel through the land of the dead."

"All right." This should be fun.

He continued to study her. "So what _are_ you going to do about Doug, and his father?"

Elysia shook her head, her bravado gone. "I don't know, but I can't do much while stunted." She gestured at her eyes.

"I called Addie. She'll have something prepared for you when we arrive."

"So soon? Neil said we would need his blood."

"A lesser alchemist might." James smiled.

"Your friend is that good?"

"Wait until you meet her." His smile grew, the light glinting in his eyes. "She's amazing."

Elysia frowned. "If you say so."

"We discussed this, remember? Not all alchemists are evil."

"Neither are all necromancers."

"I've noticed." He watched her.

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, she cleared her throat. "Are you going out dressed like that?"

"You took my favorite shirt." He twitched a dark brow.

She bit her lip. "It's on the washer."

"Ah." He left the room and returned a few minutes later pulling the black T-shirt down over his chest.

Elysia met him in the foyer. "That was really your favorite shirt?" What was the chance of that? She had grabbed one at random. It wasn't like she had chosen by color. They were all black.

A final tug, and he gave her a wink. "It is now." He lifted another leather jacket from the rack by the door and shrugged it on. "I'll drive you to your place. You can throw a few things together while Era packs."

Elysia eyed him, taking in the dark clothing and the haphazardly combed black hair. Anyone meeting him in a dark alley would give him a wide berth. He looked up at that moment, his eyes meeting hers, his gaze intent. A predator in human skin. Goosebumps rose beneath the sleeves of her shirt. Grams was right; he was dangerous. He was also sexy as sin.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"What is this?" She gestured between them.

His brow furrowed, but he didn't ask for an explanation. "Magical compatibility?"

She frowned. "That sounds more like an excuse than a reason."

"Yeah." He raked a hand through his hair, messing the dark strands. "But what else can it be?"

"I'm not denying that it exists. It's just—" God, how did she phrase this?

"You don't know where the magic ends and where your true feelings begin?"

She looked up. "Yes, exactly."

"Trust me, I get it." He dropped his eyes, the predator gone—an uncertain young man in its place.

Elysia smiled. This was the real James—and the reason she wanted to see what was beyond the magic. "What if we got to know each other better?"

He lifted his head. "What do you mean?"

"My favorite color is green," she said.

He raised a brow. "Green?"

"Seriously. I can show you my room."

His lips curled, hinting at a smile. "My favorite color is black."

She glanced at his dark clothing and smirked. "I never would have guessed that."

He grinned, then abruptly offered his hand. "Hi, I'm James. James Huntsman."

She laughed and took his hand. "I'm Elysia Mallory."

"Nice to meet you." He released her hand, then pulled open the front door and held it for her. "So. You come here often?"

She laughed and stepped out into the morning light.

_There's more to the story. If you'd like to follow Elysia and James (and his best friend Addie) on further adventures, be sure to check out myFinal Formula Series. The first book, _The Final Formula _is free everywhere my books are sold, and begins a few months before_ The Necromancer's Betrayal _._

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_If you're interested in signing up for my newsletter,click here. You'll receive alternative point-of-view scenes from two of my novels when you sign up._

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_Thank you for reading_ The Necromancer's Betrayal _. I hope you enjoyed it!_

# Savage Surrender: A Dire Wolves Mission

### Ellis Leigh

# Chapter One

_We have a situation. Report to the private residences immediately._

Bez deleted the text, pocketed his phone, and changed direction. The guards of Merriweather Fields nodded as he stalked past them. One after the other, each shifter stationed at a security point yielded without question. Bez expected nothing less. The very presence of one of his breed made even the strongest of shifters reek of fear and submission. Still, the sentries stood their ground as he passed—afraid, but not running. Terrified, but fighting their cowardice. Bez respected that. The private security staff for the president of the National Association of the Lycan Brotherhood could at least hold their posts as one of the deadliest beasts in their world passed by. Not that they knew exactly _what_ he was.

Bez growled low and deep as he passed two more guards. Neither made more than a brief impression on the tracker. Still, his wolf side cataloged their features and scents. Noting any detail that made them stand out from the next. The security guards could have been a study in dominant shifter genetics. Each man resembled the next: big, buff, and mean, the kind of shifter most others would roll over and submit to without a challenge. Most shifters...but not him.

His long legs eating up the carpeted hall, Bez nearly smirked at the thought of submitting to anyone, let alone one of the president's little pets. The seven members of Bez's breed respected Blaze, agreed he'd earned it, but that didn't mean they'd submit. Thankfully, Blasius understood the dynamic of the pack when he'd asked Bez's brethren to work with him. Blasius may be president of the NALB, the ruling power over all shifters in the country, but even he didn't try to demand anything of the seven. He issued orders that the team followed, not because they had to but because they respected him enough to choose to. But in the end, the other six like Bez were a separate pack, a separate breed.

The Dire Wolves. A breed among themselves, one shrouded in mystery. An elite team of soldiers, trackers, hackers, and all-around narcissistic fucks who'd spent millennia battling side by side. They were the men called upon when the best weren't good enough, when creatures of various species needed to be found quickly or put down quietly... And Bez had been called by the only man outside of his own race he'd ever come running for.

With heightened animal instincts, a larger frame and body type than your average male, and a higher level of control over both sides of their nature than everyday shifters, the seven men in Bez's pack were a unique force within the shifter community. One handpicked by the president of the NALB to aid their intersecting causes. Most shifters considered the select seven part of the Cleaners, the designation bestowed upon the cleanup crew Blasius kept at the ready to handle NALB business. But Bez's group was even more than that designation allowed. Not that the rest of the shifter population knew their secret.

"Cleaner Beelzebub. President Zenne is expecting me," Bez said once he reached the north wing of the mansion known as Merriweather Fields. The guard, the same man who'd been stationed at this post for the last three years, nodded and moved toward the locked entry point of the heavily fortified double doors, ignoring the safety procedures they both knew were required for access to the president.

Bez glared, letting his growl grow louder as he motioned toward the retinal scanner and keypad at the side of the door. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

The guard's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He kept his head down and his eyes averted, submitting to the stronger wolf. "President Blasius is waiting for you, sir."

Bez made a humming noise as the guard opened the door. Retinal scan skipped, identity of the visitor not confirmed.

"Bez." Dante, longtime mate of Blasius, met Bez at the door, his eyes flat and his face showing signs of worry. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

Bez nodded as he stepped over the threshold, cataloging every minute detail of the dark-skinned shifter. Because that's what he did...he studied the minutia. It was a skill that came in handy, one that served his job as a tracker well. He never forgot a face, a shape, or a shadow.

As soon as the latch slammed into place, Bez grunted. "Fire the guard. He's not wolf enough to be the last line of defense between the enemy and Blaze."

Dante didn't look surprised. Bez and his team of Dire Wolves had worked for the president and Dante for too many years not to understand each other. The guard at the door would be gone within the hour.

The private wing of President Blasius Zenne—known to his most trusted allies as Blaze—was a place most shifters would never see. Blaze and his mates were living, breathing targets for any shifter, man, or beast who wanted access to the power of the NALB. But Bez wasn't most shifters; he'd been welcomed into the inner sanctum often enough to recognize a new chandelier hanging in the foyer, highlighting a picture sitting on the table to the right. One depicting the three wolves who made up the most powerful triad in North America.

The two men strode down the hall at a fast pace, neither speaking. Not until Dante closed the heavy doors at the end of the entrance hall, protecting and soundproofing the living area from all those outside.

"What's the situation?" Bez asked as soon as Dante engaged the lock.

"They've taken another Omega."

Bez didn't fight back his growl as he walked faster, his boots thumping hard on the marble floor. Omegas—exceptionally rare, powerful, female wolf shifters—had been disappearing across the continent. So far, neither the NALB nor the Cleaners and Dires had made any progress discovering why or where they were being taken to. His team's frustration was at an all-time high, the lack of information making them all feel the pressure. If there was one thing the Dires respected above all else, it was the innate power of an Omega shewolf. History hinted that the Omegas were descendants of Dire Wolves. The world thought the Dire Wolves extinct, but Bez and his breed were proof that they had survived. The attack on the Omegas was as close to an attack on the pack of seven Dires as the men had ever seen, and they'd do anything necessary to hunt down the Omega kidnappers and rescue the women.

Dante led the way down a side hall and to the private office of the president where Blaze and his second mate, a female shifter named Moira, sat looking over maps and papers. Only the most powerful shifters were blessed with two mates to create a fated triad. Just another reminder of the innate strength within Blasius Zenne.

"Blaze, he's here," Dante said as they walked in. The man in question looked up, his blue eyes hard. Blaze took his job seriously, took his responsibility to his fellow wolf shifters seriously. Anyone who doubted that fact would need nothing more than to see the fury in the man's eyes at that moment to become a true believer. The loss of another Omega was not something Blaze would take lightly.

"Thank you for coming so quickly." Blaze stood with an animalistic grace, a definite tell that his wolf was close to the surface of his consciousness. Bez noted the predatory way Blaze looked over the room, the not-quite-human cock to his head. Blaze rarely lost control, which meant something about this kidnapping had truly set him off.

"You call, I show. That's how this works, sir." Bez gripped the man's forearm and gave him a single head nod, a traditional shifter greeting showing his respect for the more dominant wolf. Blaze mimicked the motion, the move one he rarely made, showing his willingness to accept Bez on equal footing.

"Yes, well, I appreciate it." Blaze motioned Bez toward the empty couch, moving to the one where Moira sat.

"Good evening, Bez," Moira said, giving him a smile. She was new to their group, only recently found at an event Blasius and Dante hosted every December to bring fated mates together.

"They've kidnapped a fourth Omega," Blaze said with a rumble to his voice. "A young one this time."

Bez sat on the edge of the seat, leaning forward. "How young?"

Blaze shook his head, obviously reining in his wolf side as his growl tore through the room.

Moira placed a hand on Blaze's thigh, calming him, before she turned to Bez, her gaze strong and direct. "She's only fifteen. We weren't even aware this pack contained an Omega. The Alpha has refused to provide census data to the NALB for the past thirty years and didn't respond to our warnings regarding the kidnappings. What we've discovered is that the pack was relatively small with only sixteen members, all living on a single commune-style property in the Texahoma area."

"'Was'?" Bez knew the woman enough to know she wasn't one to misspeak. If Moira said "was," the news of this pack wouldn't be good.

Moira blinked and pursed her lips. "They've been decimated. Only one packmember even survived the attack other than the Omega."

"We hope." Blaze gritted his teeth, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "The survivor died shortly after being discovered, but he was able to give us a few bits of information."

Dante moved across the room, grabbing a remote to turn on the flat screen TV over the fireplace. The screen brightened, showing a picture of a man. Gritty and slightly out of focus, the picture had obviously come from a long-range camera lens. More than likely the work of Dire Wolf Levi, who collected physical pictures of the shifters he met instead of mentally cataloging them as Bez did. Good thing...the man on the screen was one Bez had never met.

"Harkens Thearouguard, formerly of the Nez Perce pack in Idaho." Dante flipped through a handful of pictures, all shots of the subject. "Seventy-eight shifter-years old, approximate look of a mid-thirties human, with dark brown hair and eyes. His wolf is an Interior Alaskan, mostly black with brown tips and shading. Last documented sighting by an NALB regional officer stated Harkens stood five feet nine in human form and approximately the same from nose to tail as a wolf. He left the Nez Perce pack eight years ago and hasn't been seen by NALB officers since. The surviving packmate recognized him as one of the attackers."

"So Harkens is my target." Bez looked over the image on the screen, memorizing every dip and line of the man's face. "Anything else?"

Dante glanced at Moira, an uncomfortable expression on his face. "The Omega's packmate was close to death when found, almost completely bled dry. The shifter who spoke to him couldn't be sure if the man was completely lucid or not at the end."

Bez sat back and cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by the hesitancy in Dante's voice. "Go on."

But Dante couldn't—or wouldn't—finish his thought. Neither he nor Blaze seemed willing to express whatever they thought might have happened to the pack.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Moira leaned forward, face filled with fury. "Dawes kept muttering something about the attackers bringing a monster with them. One that only attacked the shewolves of the pack."

"You think they've collared a werewolf?" Bez asked, raising an eyebrow at how improbable that option seemed. Werewolves couldn't be captured and trained like circus monkeys.

She sat back with a huff. "Of course. What else do you know that would terrify a shifter and only hunt the women?"

Bez cocked an eyebrow at her sass and intelligence. She'd impressed him from the moment they'd met. In a dark hallway at the last Gathering, Moira had smiled and charmed him, protecting mates she had yet to actually meet, not knowing anything about them or their relationship with the Dire. She'd thrown herself to the lions, so to speak, and proven herself with a single, selfless act. The chick was brave, and he respected brave. Though he seriously doubted her theory of a werewolf being involved in the kidnapping.

"Moira," Blaze said, his voice quiet but filled with frustration.

Bez kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the TV screen, offering the triad what little privacy he could. He hated listening to the three argue. Like the rest of his Dire Wolf brethren, he'd never found his mate and didn't expect to. Most wolf shifters didn't make it much past a hundred without finding the person the fates had designed just for them. But the Dire Wolves differed from their cousins. All seven had lived mateless for too many hundreds of years to count.

Dante moved from the back of the couch to kneel in front of Moira and Blaze. "Werewolves only feed on female shifters, my dove. They kill anything in between them and their next meal when the full moon rises. They're mindless beasts, untrainable."

Moira's eyes went soft, her shoulders relaxing. "I know, but—"

Blaze stood and stormed across the room, pouring a glass of what looked like whiskey from a decanter on the side table. Moira quickly followed him.

Bez split his attention, surreptitiously monitoring the couple while continuing to commit Harkens' face to memory. Being part of Blaze's most trusted team and Moira's first guard, Bez knew more about their relationship than most shifters ever would. He knew exactly how much Blaze feared for Moira's safety, knew the man had just as many fears regarding Dante even though he didn't show them as openly. Bez didn't understand that kind of worry, though, having never cared about someone in that way. It all seemed excessive and time-consuming.

Finally, the two mates rejoined Dante on the couch across from Bez, neither looking happy but clinging to one another nonetheless.

Blaze coughed. "I must apologize—"

"You apologize for nothing, sir." Bez nodded toward the screen, thankful to get back on task. "Any hints on current location for the subject?"

Dante shook his head. "Before the attack, he'd been spotted a handful of times with two other shifters. It was assumed that they'd created a small, feral pack of their own, though we've been unable to confirm this. Sightings have been in New Orleans and Baton Rouge, always in late February. No one's seen him in almost a year, though."

Bez snorted and rubbed a finger across his jaw as pieces of the puzzle behind Harkens fell into place in his mind. "Of course not. It's not time yet."

Blaze swung his eyes to meet Bez's, questioning. "Time for what?"

"The brothel to open." Bez stood and headed for the door, too antsy to wait any longer. Even his wolf seemed anxious, the beast whining to be let free. Craving the exhilaration of the chase. "Miss Terri's starts taking customers in March. It's the only brothel in the South that has staff catering to a shifter's unique predilections. That kind of discretion isn't cheap, though, which means our guy's been working hard through the year to pay for his mating season concubine."

"Follow the money," Moira said.

"Exactly." Bez reached the hall and paused, looking over his shoulder to the only non-Dire he'd ever taken orders from. "Return or destroy the target, sir?"

"Return." Blaze glanced at Moira, who stared back at him, confident and strong. "I don't think he's the planner for these kidnappings, but we'll need a full interrogation to be sure. Saving the child is our end goal."

Bez nodded. "Yes, sir. You know I'll take care of it."

"I do know; that's why we called you." Blaze escorted Bez down the hall and across the threshold of two massive doors that had locked them into the private quarters. The thick, soundproof doors spanned from the floor to the coffered ceiling fifteen feet above. Dark and heavy, they highlighted the woodworking ability of another of Bez's teammates. Dire Wolf Mammon had carved them after catching a guard selling information about Dante. Mammon had figured the greedy fucker was setting up a kidnapping to usurp the president using his mate as collateral, a plan he abhorred for being weak and cowardly. Once Bez had tracked the seller and the buyer, the Dire Wolves had descended as a pack to eliminate the threat, something they rarely had the pleasure of doing. Due to the constant threat against Blaze, and the varying skills of each Dire, they tended to work apart, relying on the actual Cleaners as soldiers and backup. But on that night, they'd worked as a unit, victorious as always. Two days later, Mammon began the process of carving the doors. He whittled and planed the wood using the claws and teeth of the traitorous wolves right on the front lawn of Merriweather Fields, making sure every shifter on staff understood the penalty should one of them decide to go for money over loyalty.

The doors offered two levels of protection: one physical due to their solidness and weight, the other auditory. Once closed, the doors muffled every sound from those on the opposite side. Blaze had just shut the two of them off from Dante and Moira, thus making their conversation as private as possible, though a strong shifter out in the main hallway could overhear them should they try to. Bez assumed none of the guards in this house would try to, not knowing what the Cleaners would do to them if they did.

Bez stood at parade rest, waiting for his true orders, his neck stiff and his shoulders hard with tension. Some things were not meant to be discussed in front of others, something he had learned long ago. Something his president knew as well. Blaze threw a glance over Bez's shoulder and then leaned in close.

"The official mission states Harkens is wanted for questioning," Blaze whispered with far more air than voice forming the words, making Bez furrow his brow in question. Blaze's lips pursed for a moment. "Unofficially, you have my permission to do whatever it takes and use whatever you need of the NALB or my personal resources to interrogate Harkens your way. I want that Omega back here at the Fields in one piece, and I want you to bring the team of kidnappers in with her." Blaze leaned back, meeting Bez's steely gaze with one of his own. "Harkens isn't our guy and probably doesn't even know who the ringleader is, but he's close enough to know how to find someone who does."

Bez didn't misunderstand what the president was saying, but he still asked, "And Harkens' fate?"

Blaze's eyes glowed, his wolf pushing forward as he growled out, "A nonissue. Harkens is nothing more than a means to an end. Bring me my Omega and the people who are holding her."

"Understood, sir." Bez left Blaze in the hallway, heading for the doors out of the wing. His wolf was ready to run, anxious to get on with the hunt. And if Bez was being honest with himself, so was he. Blaze wanted Harkens dead; therefore, the shifter's last breaths were already numbered.

It was time to hunt.

# Chapter Two

Sariel scraped her thumbnail over the floor, scratching a track into the wood. Another line, another day survived. Testing the depth of her latest mark, she ran her fingers over the gouges. She didn't even need to look to count them. Twenty-seven marks. Twenty-seven days locked in a houseboat in the middle of a swamp. Adding the week or so between when the men had come for her and when they threw her in her current cage, and she'd been gone from her home for over a month. It felt like a lifetime.

As the sounds of the night-loving creatures rose, heavy footsteps approached, their pace rushed. Sariel scrambled off the floor and into the corner. Hands shaking, she stood with her head slightly bent and her shoulders curved toward the wall. Submissive. Twenty-seven days alone with the same four men had taught her much, mostly how to pretend she respected them so they wouldn't take too much of an interest in teaching her their pack order. She may have no longer shown the marks from those first few lessons when she'd tried to escape or fight them, but she certainly hadn't forgotten.

"Yoo-hoo, dud. We've got a present for you."

Sariel bit back a whimper, terrified of what the present could be. She'd been lucky enough to be guarded by men who listened to their leader, and their leader said she was not to be touched. That hadn't stopped them from torturing her in other ways, though.

She cringed when the door flew open, revealing a tall shifter standing on the threshold.

"Honey, we're home." He snickered as he walked in with some kind of large, rolled package over his shoulder. Sariel sniffed on instinct, but her wolf senses had faded too much to get a good read on what he'd brought. Twenty-seven days was a long time to go without shifting, and while her wolf was still a strong presence in her mind, the physical attributes that had always been close at hand due to the wolf within had almost disappeared. She was practically human at this point.

The man tossed the package on the cot opposite Sariel's before he even looked her way. His eyes nearly glowed, his excitement almost something she could feel. And that terrified her even more. She cowered as he stalked closer, wishing for the millionth time to be anywhere but there. His grin widened at the sight of her pressing herself against the wall, a sick, twisted smile that made her want to throw up.

"Oh, dud. Don't worry, your time is coming."

"Please." Sariel shivered as his finger ran down the length of her arm. "I just want to go home."

"That's not in the cards for you, darlin'." He grabbed her wrist, pulling it to his lips and licking across the width. Sariel fought back a sob and pressed her shoulder harder against the wall. "I know you've been lonely, so I brought you a treat."

Sariel took a deep breath when he dropped her wrist. She hated him, hated the way he watched her and the constant touches he gave whenever he came near. Little things, hints of what he wanted, all adding up to make her sick whenever he came through the door. He hadn't taken yet, but she knew the yet was the most important part of that statement. His time was coming, and they both knew it. The sadistic bastard liked to tease her about what he'd do eventually, to keep her on edge.

With a knowing smirk, he chuckled before turning back toward the cot. He practically danced over to it, pulling at the fabric wrapped around the oblong shape with glee.

"See, we needed a replacement for you, since you're a dud and all."

Sariel's heart skipped and her gut clenched. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes." He grinned as he yanked the last of the fabric. A small female, a child, really, rolled to the floor at his feet. She didn't move, didn't react. Sariel couldn't even tell if the girl was breathing.

"What did you do?" Sariel whispered, unable to hold back the words.

The man grinned and shrugged. "We found someone who wasn't a dud."

"No." Sariel's stomach sank and her eyes burned. This was her fault. Her stupid, defective body had been the catalyst for these animals to hunt the poor girl. She wasn't stupid—she knew the reason they called her a dud. Sariel had known it since she was a pup. She didn't have a functioning reproductive system, which her captors had discovered when they'd forced her to endure two days of invasive medical exams.

"Don't worry," he growled, his voice a shade too high not to be mocking her. "We've got a plan for you as well."

He prodded the girl with his foot before walking to the door, leaving behind the blanket he'd had her wrapped in. Sariel waited until he slammed the door before she left her corner. She stepped lightly, moved slowly and softly across the room. She almost didn't want to know if the girl was alive or not. She hoped she was, prayed even, but deep down, Sariel wondered if it would be better for the girl to be dead. Whatever those monsters had planned, it involved shewolves being used in ways that evoked her worst nightmares. And the gods forbid that fate be bestowed on a child.

"Please, oh please, oh please." Sariel dropped to her knees and crept the last few inches toward the girl, holding her breath. With her hands shaking, she reached for the girl's throat. A pulse pounded slow but strong. She was alive.

Sariel didn't know if she should be relieved or disappointed in that fact.

# Chapter Three

Bez raced across the marshy ground, his claws gripping at whatever purchase they could find, his stride long and aggressive. His prey ran ahead, just out of his sight, the sounds of him slipping and sliding across the wet ground giving away his location. The animal remained just out of Bez's reach, not that Bez worried about the distance. Time had taught him many things, one being the necessity of patience when on the hunt. His body toned, his breathing measured, he dropped his head and ran harder, using his nose to guide him. The scent trail left by the animal in front of him practically glowed in the moonlight, a strong and wide light leading the way, stinking of fear and adrenaline. His prey was scared...as well it should have been.

As Bez leaped over a fallen tree, he caught sight of his quarry running through the tall grass. Dark and thin, the wolf looked too small to be a shifter, but Bez knew the truth. A man lived inside that wolf body; one Bez had been hunting for nearly three weeks. Through seedy bars and outlaw shifter communities, he'd tracked the beast before him, hunting down every clue, roughing up any witness who dared to refuse to speak. Three weeks of little rest for the hunter. It was time for the chase to come to an end.

Demanding one last burst of speed from his body, Bez lengthened his stride and pumped his legs harder, gaining on the smaller animal. Reaching, clawing, running, stretching—Bez gave himself over to his animal side, letting his wolf out to do what it did best—until the prey offered up the perfect target. Bez lunged, his teeth clamping down on the other animal's back hock. He jerked his head, flipping the smaller wolf on his back, satisfied in his conquest only when he heard the snap of breaking bones.

Once the animal lay panting in the grass, Bez crawled over the top of him. Feet on either side of the fallen wolf, Bez pulled his lips back in a snarl, ready to pin his prey if need be. The animal didn't fight back, though. Instead, he closed his eyes and whimpered, angling his head to show his neck to Bez. Submitting to the more dominant wolf. Weak bastard. Knowing he had the upper hand, Bez took a step back, keeping his eyes on his fallen prey as he shifted to his human form.

"You've given me quite the run, Harkens." Bez shook off the last of his change, a familiar chill going down his spine as fur turned to skin. "Now, get human; we need to have a talk."

The fallen wolf didn't move except to attempt to stretch out his back leg. At least that's what Bez assumed—whatever bones had broken during the capture flip had left the animal unable to do much more than twitch. Bez stared at his prey, waiting for compliance, calm in the face of the disobedience. But after a few minutes where the wolf did nothing more than shake and whine, Bez sighed. Some people simply couldn't accept defeat.

Bez leaned over the fallen animal, letting his wolf push past his human side enough to feel the warmth of the animal power in his blood. Focusing on his prey, Bez put a hand across the other animal's forehead and met his watery gaze.

"Shift, now."

The wolf's whimpers turned first to frightened growls and then to screams of pain as his human body ripped through his wolf form. Naked and shaking, the twisted man lay in the mud at Bez's feet. Thin...pale...weak.

"I'm not telling you shit," Harkens spat even as his breathing turned to pained pants.

"I don't need shit. I need to know about the missing Omega, the young one."

Harkens groaned as he tried to roll onto his stomach, the bones in his back and shoulders not complying with the movement of his muscles. "I don't know nothing."

"Double negative." Bez put a bare foot on Harkens' ribcage.

"What the hell—" Harkens' scream cut off whatever he'd planned to ask. Not that Bez would have answered him. He was too busy forcing his foot down on Harkens' broken ribs.

"Double negative, fucker. 'Don't know nothing' means you know something. I'm giving you one chance to tell me what I need to know. You do that, I kill you nice and easy right here." Bez smiled as the man's eyes grew wide. Harkens' scent went harsh and slightly bitter, making Bez's wolf practically salivate with glee. Yeah, he liked the scent of fear on this one.

When Harkens still didn't speak, Bez nudged his foot higher, pressing harder. "You make me ask again, your death will still come, but it won't be nice or easy."

"Fuck you," Harkens spat through trembling jaws.

"Wrong answer." Bez grabbed Harkens, picking him up and slinging his broken body over his shoulders. Harkens screamed and cried, trying to wiggle out of Bez's hold, but to no avail. Bez ignored every sound, every movement, and carried his prey out of the marshlands.

When Bez reached his Jeep, he tossed his load in the back seat. Harkens cursed and attempted to crawl out of the open-topped vehicle, but Bez had been a hunter for a long time. No one escaped him once he set his wolf upon their trail.

Keeping one hand on Harkens' ankle, Bez reached under the passenger's seat for the metal handcuffs he stashed there. He had another pair under the driver's seat and two more in the very back. Bez was nothing if not prepared, thanks in part to the mechanic of the Dire wolf pack, Luc.

As Bez fastened the cuffs to Harkens' ankles and wrists, essentially tying him to the frame of the Jeep, he clucked and shook his head. "I was trying to be nice, but you had to make things difficult. Now, we get to do things my way."

"Oh, please," the injured man huffed, still fronting as if he could somehow best Bez. "You think I'm afraid of you Feral Breed fuckers? You have no idea who I work for."

"Nope, I don't." Bez clasped the last cuff to the base of the roll bar and strode to the driver's side of the vehicle, fighting back a smile. So Harkens assumed he was a Feral Breed member? Not that he had anything against the motorcycle club Blaze used as a more localized police force. Hell, he'd even worked with some of them the previous year when the kidnappers almost managed to get their hands on another Omega. He liked the team he'd met in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but the Feral Breed had nothing on a Dire Wolf.

Bez hopped into the driver's seat, not bothering with the door. "I'm not a Feral Breed member. I'm far worse than those pups."

"So, what, you're a Cleaner? Blasius so afraid of us he sent out his private guard dogs?"

Bez shrugged as he reached under his seat for a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. "You could call me a Cleaner, or not. You're dead either way."

Harkens snorted. "Yeah, right. Give me half an hour for these bones to heal, and we'll see who's the one dying."

"You're all talk, Harkens." Bez grinned and pulled on his clothes, tossing a rough blanket over his shoulder to cover the other man's nudity. He didn't need to get pulled over on the way to the safe house because Harkens was letting his junk air out.

Harkens used his legs to push himself farther up in the seat, a sure sign his bones were healing. "You're all brawn with no brain. You think I can't get away from you?"

"Nah, man...you can't." Bez met the man's eyes in the rearview mirror, letting his wolf come forth to swirl the color around the iris the way only Dire Wolves could. "No one's ever escaped me."

"Bullshit." Harkens tried to sound strong, but his eyes were blown wide and his heart pounded loud enough for Bez to hear from his seat up front. "The only tracker the NALB had with a perfect record was Beelzebub, and he's been dead for over twenty years. Fucking vamp took care of that psychopath."

Bez grinned as he spun out on the dirt. His wolf made a stronger appearance, forcing his canines to lengthen and the corners of his eyes to pull up into their more lupine placement. Cocky fucker liked to be reminded of his last fight with a fully matured vampire, even if the story the shifter world knew was completely wrong. "So glad my reputation precedes me, but I wasn't dead. The vamp tried, though. He tried hard."

When Harkens made a strangled sound, Bez glanced in the rearview mirror again. Harkens had gone even paler, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. Which, Bez guessed, he kind of had if the man thought a vamp had taken him down.

"Holy shit, you're..."

Bez gunned the engine as he hit the highway, growling into the wind. "That's right, Harkens. You're dancing with one of the devils of the breed tonight. "

# Chapter Four

The retching started shortly after the sun set. Sariel was already prepared, ready with the bucket she'd been forced to urinate in and a towel. The cloth was filthy, as was everything in the nasty prison, but it was the best she could do.

"Easy, now." Sariel poured clean water from the pitcher their captors brought in every day onto the towel to dampen it, then placed it against the back of the girl's neck. "Don't fight it. You'll feel better once you've gotten rid of the drugs."

The girl cried and coughed, clutching the bucket as she emptied her stomach. The sounds, the smell, all of it reminded Sariel of her own first few days on the boat. Of the sick feeling as the drugs her captors had forced on her worked their way through her system. The fear of not knowing where she was or who the men guarding her were. The terror at what their plans were. She remembered every second, but she'd been forced to handle it all alone. The girl at least had Sariel on her side, and she would do everything she could to protect her.

"Shhhh." Sariel ran a hand over the girl's back as the vomiting slowed. "It's awful, I know. Give it a minute and it'll stop. Then you can have a drink."

The girl choked, a sad, coughing noise coming from her as she fought back her sobs. Sariel remembered that, too. Though she'd let her tears fall those first few days. And been punished for them.

"Don't cry. I'm here, and I'll help you. Just don't cry."

The girl quieted before taking a deep breath. "Where am I?"

"Some sort of swamp. I don't really know much more than that."

The girl sniffed and raised her head, taking a look around. She had huge, dark eyes that were red-rimmed, but pretty. Sweet-faced and petite, she looked like a teenager. A thought that turned Sariel's stomach. She was just a kid.

The girl sat quiet for a few long moments, doing nothing more than breathing, it seemed. Sariel waited, watching her. Hoping she would stay calm as the reality that had been thrust upon her truly settled into place.

"Not Florida," the girl said, her voice soft but sure. "Bayou, maybe."

Sariel cocked her head, her brow tightening. "What?"

The girl shrugged and pulled her ash-colored hair away from her face. The strands caught the little bit of light pushing through the windows, practically glowing. Sariel had never seen such a color on a human before. Brown and gray and black, all woven together with streaks of silver interspersed throughout. She bet it was gorgeous when it was clean and brushed.

The girl nodded toward the window. "It doesn't smell like the Everglades, so if it's a swamp, my guess is bayou country. Louisiana, more than likely."

Sariel huffed a laugh. "Well, you're certainly smarter than I am. I couldn't have told you a thing about this place other than the air is as heavy as a wool blanket."

The girl's mouth tipped up in a tiny smile. "My mom has family outside of Miami. My brother and I spent a lot of time in and around the Everglades."

She grew quiet again, pensive, probably stuck on thoughts of the family and pack she'd been taken from. Thoughts Sariel knew too much about.

"I'm Sariel," she said, trying to draw the girl out again. To give her a sense of normalcy in this unusual situation. "I'm an only child and one of only three shifters younger than eighty in my pack. I grew up in the desert outside Yuma, Arizona."

The girl stared at her for a long moment, those dark eyes going from near lifeless to filled with a rage that took Sariel by surprise. "I'm Angelita, and I had a little brother who was my world back in Texas. But he, my parents, and my pack are dead. Those bastards who took me killed them all."

# Chapter Five

Bez stood in the kitchen of the hunting cabin he'd been holed up in for the past three days, sipping coffee and looking over emails on his phone. The house was one of Blaze's property holdings. The man had little cabins to large mansions scattered across the country and beyond. All in secluded locations, all stocked to the rafters with weaponry and supplies in case he needed a place to hide, most with shifter-proof safe rooms as added protection for his mates. The president had a plan for almost anything, and the Dire Wolves were the only men on his private security team to not only have access to each property but to have the passcodes and weaponry inventory for each and every house. Something that came in handy when they were hunting down a target. Or trying to get one to talk.

A gurgle from the living room alerted Bez to the start of his workday. Another session, another fight not to kill the fucker in the other room before he got what he needed. And he would get it—he never fucking failed a mission.

Bez put his phone back in his pocket and drank down the last of his coffee. He washed out his mug in the sink, making sure to dry the heavy ceramic vessel and place it back in the exact spot where he'd found it. A second gurgle and a moan sounded as he wiped down the counters, but Bez stayed focused. He had to remove all traces of his presence in case he needed to make a quick exit. There was a precision to this job, a methodology learned over centuries of training. He would not be rushed.

Humming while he worked, Bez cleaned every inch of the kitchen until it sparkled. When he finished, he reached into a drawer and grabbed what he needed before turning toward the space most people would use for a living room. Bez had used it in a bit of a different way. Of course, his job wasn't what most people would call a job.

"You ready to talk yet?" Bez looked over at Harkens. The shifter hung midair, suspended by a chain around his ankles and secured to the ceiling. Head down, arms tied to his chest to keep from dangling, Harkens rocked slightly over the tarp Bez had spread across the hardwoods to keep the floors clean.

A job well done, but he wasn't finished yet.

Shifters were a hard breed to kill, though not as hardy as some of the monsters Bez had hunted over the years. Still, shifters had a regeneration ability that defied human logic. To kill a shifter, you needed to stop his blood from flowing. There were two ways Bez preferred to accomplish that task. The first—tearing out the heart of the aforementioned shifter—offered a quick and relatively painless death, though it wasn't really a choice if you needed information and the target refused to speak. Like Harkens.

The second way had been Bez's only option given the situation.

Bez had been bleeding the shifter slowly over the three days he'd had him suspended from the ceiling, killing him bit by bit, a handful of strategically placed slashes and artery nicks added every day. It looked like a gory and painful way to die, but that tended to make lips move. And Bez's mission was to find the Omega, not to help his informants make a peaceful transition to whatever afterlife they were due.

Harkens coughed, spraying blood across the tarp below him as he did. Bez glowered at the mess until a weak whisper reached his ears.

"Attakapas."

Bez moved closer, circling Harkens. His wolf perked up and pushed against his human mind, finally seeing an end to the wait for the real mission in sight. "What's Attakapas?"

"Camp." Harkens coughed again, choking this time on the blood pooling in his mouth. "She was to be taken to a camp near the Attakapas Refuge. Please. Please let me down."

"How many men?" Bez waited for an answer before using his foot to swing the man around. He squatted and tilted his head, growling as his wolf wrangled for control. The beast was ready to end this...to kill the weaker animal and move on to the next hunt. But Bez still needed information. "How many men guard the Omega?"

"A handful. Spread thin. Five, maybe."

"That sounds like bullshit to me."

"The camp is in the swamp, deep in. Boss thinks no one can find it, plus he sent—" Harkens coughed again, his entire body swinging and jerking with the force.

The blood hit the wall, making Bez twitch. Harkens would be dead soon, of that he had no doubt, so cleanup would have to wait. No matter how much he hated to admit that.

"Who's this boss? What's his name?"

"Don't...know. Call him...The King."

"Someone thinks highly of themselves." Bez stood and circled his prisoner, considering his options. "So that's it? Attakapas, somewhere in a bayou that stretches over what...probably a hundred miles? Five men guarding the Omega. Anything else?"

Harkens hung quiet, eyes open but unfocused. Alive and yet...not.

"Your usefulness has ended." Bez struck fast and hard, brandishing the knife he'd been palming and slitting the other man's throat in a single swipe. What little blood was left sprayed toward the wall, but Bez ignored it. The thrill of the hunt was back, and that meant he needed to move. Without a pause, he dropped the knife and grabbed his phone, pressing a button as he walked out the front door.

"Attakapas Refuge," he said when Dante answered. "That's the holding spot—some camp in the swamp. Five guards, tops."

"Need backup?"

"Not for the initial mission; I should be able to handle that hunt alone. Alert Levi just in case, and call Mammon to put the Dires on standby for the phase-two hunt. Last I heard, he was over in Fort Worth keeping an eye on the Irish shifters. I want men no more than four hours away before I get back from the field."

"On it."

Bez strode across the lawn toward his Jeep, taking one last look over the property. "Also, I'll be selling the house at my current location."

"Selling?" Dante's voice carried a bristle to it that Bez didn't often hear. Though, he rarely made messes that warranted such an action. "May I ask the reason?"

"It's not clean enough."

Dante didn't answer, but the sound of clicking keys told Bez he was typing. "Tracking you now. Take care of the sale; I'll handle the residual paperwork."

"Understood." Bez ended the call and gave himself one final moment to look over the property. He always loved their version selling a house, though it wasn't something they did often. That would attract too much attention, as would a man standing in the driveway staring at a house that was about to disappear. It was time to go.

Eyes on his phone, looking up the closest property to Attakapas Refuge, Bez hopped into the Jeep. He cranked the engine while reaching for a black remote in the glove box, having already set up everything he needed to "sell" this place before he'd even walked in the door three days ago. When he reached the end of the driveway, Bez grinned and pressed the single white button on the face of the little device.

After a moment's delay, the cabin exploded, the resulting blaze hot enough to burn the inside of Bez's nose as he inhaled. He dropped the remote, grabbed his shades from the visor, and turned onto the main road. Attakapas Island Wildlife Management Area was a little over six hours away. The Omega was within grabbing distance.

# Chapter Six

Sariel woke from her nap suddenly, her heart racing in her chest. God, her dreams...such wistful, heartbreaking visions of the past playing out as her mind surrendered to fantasy. Pictures of home dancing through her head, the feel of hard earth under her paws, and the exhilaration that only came from running in her wolf form across the harsh yet beautiful terrain. She missed it, missed everything terribly. In her dreams, she was home in the desert, surrounded by her pack. But when she woke up... Well, that was when she fell into an entirely different reality. One that had been forced on her. One she didn't know if she could survive.

The sound of sniffling from across the room whispered in the thick, humid air, just loud enough for her sensitive ears to pick up. Angelita was crying again. The little shifter who'd been tossed into the houseboat only a week before had been doing that on and off for days, hiding her face in her pillow and sobbing, thinking no one knew. But Sariel knew... She heard the muffled cries, and she worried for the young girl. Possibly even more than she worried for herself.

The teenager had woken up terrified, screaming and crying on the floor of the houseboat not long after their guard had left. It had taken Sariel almost an hour to get the girl to calm down enough to speak. Another two to get her to tell Sariel her name. It took Angelita three days to finally admit how the men, assumedly the same ones who had whisked Sariel away in the middle of the night, had attacked her pack and killed her family. The little girl had been made an orphan and a prisoner within a matter of hours, and Sariel's heart broke every time she saw the overwhelming grief on Angelita's pretty face.

Sariel ran her hand over her eyes and sighed, somewhat frustrated. She couldn't blame Angelita for being upset, but tears did nothing but make the men around them want more. And the animals that'd kidnapped them both—that had swooped into their regular lives and dragged them away to this humid, stinky hell in the middle of a fucking swamp—would get those tears from the pup one way or another if she didn't stay quiet. They considered it a game, one they played with their captives whenever they got bored. And the bastards got bored often. Sariel had learned that quickly, and she'd make sure the young one knew it too. Buck up, don't give them anything to work with, tuck your emotions under your inner strength, and pretend to be submissive to their wolves to keep them from trying to prove their dominance. She would make sure Angelita learned how to survive this place without the harsh lessons Sariel had endured.

As another sob wrenched through Angelita, Sariel glanced at the chair by the door. Empty. She turned back toward the young shifter's cot, thankful their guard had left them alone for the moment.

"Angelita," she hissed, keeping her voice as soft as possible. "Honey, you need to calm down."

The girl went silent for a minute, trying hard to obey, but then a choked sob broke through the thick afternoon air. The sound tore at Sariel's heart, reminding her of just how young Angelita was. More so than her fifteen short years would indicate, really. The girl had been sheltered by her pack. Protected. Sariel was a mature shifter who'd seen the good and bad of life come her way, and she could barely hold herself together under the constant fear their situation blanketed her in. Poor Angelita didn't have a chance...not alone, at least.

Sariel slid out of her bed and snuck across the wood planks, praying she didn't hit a squeaky spot. The last thing she needed was to draw the attention of the men keeping them in this fetid trash dump they called a houseboat. When she reached Angelita's bed, she knelt on the rough floor and pulled the sheet back from over the girl's head. Even in the dim light the filthy windows allowed into the room, Sariel could see the puffiness of Angelita's eyes, the angry red streaks burning paths down her cheeks. This cryfest had been going on for a while.

Placing a calming hand on Angelita's shoulder, Sariel leaned over her and whispered, "If they hear you, they'll come in here. And then things will be worse."

Angelita nodded and sniffed. "I know."

"Then why are you crying?"

The girl was quiet for a minute, only the sounds of insects Sariel couldn't even identify invading the still, humid air. Thick...she'd never known air could actually feel thick. Good Lord, it was like trying to breathe through a wet blanket all the time.

"I'm scared," Angelita finally admitted. Sariel rubbed her shoulder and inched closer. Angelita's eyes opened wide, staring at her, making Sariel's chest hurt with the amount of pain she could see carried within them. Angelita was afraid, alone, and grieving... Sariel could at least try to help with two of those.

"I'm scared too, and with good reason. But tears won't do nothin' more than make you weak, and we can't afford to be weak. We have to be strong right now, little one. Stronger than those men out there."

"I'm trying. But sometimes..." The girl trailed off, looking at the ceiling. Sariel waited for her to finish her thought, rubbing a hand over her hair to try to calm the young one's nerves. The weeks spent trapped in this place had been hell on earth for Sariel, but to the girl, who'd lost her entire family and pack when the men holding them had raided her home to snatch her, it must have been pure torture. She had nothing here to cling to and nothing from where she'd been raised to go home to. That thought always made Sariel's protective instincts surge, made the motherly feelings she thought had skipped past her come roaring to the front of her mind. Everyone deserved a place to call home.

After several quiet moments, Angelita took a deep breath, her voice stronger as she said, "Sometimes I remember what they did to my mom and dad, and I can't decide if I want to hurt them or cry. So I cry, because I can't hurt them." Her eyes met Sariel's, glowing brightly, the power of her wolf pushing through her human side. "At least not yet."

"That's right," Sariel said, wishing she could let her own wolf peek out of the cage she'd been keeping her in. She'd learned the hard way not to shift in this place, not to even let her wolf senses free. If she wanted to stay alive, she'd have to do it in her human form, without the help of her greatest ally. "We'll get them back for what they did to your family."

Angelita wiped away the last of her tears, sounding small and shy as she whispered, "We'll get out of here eventually, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sariel said, fighting back her doubts. "There's no way I'm staying in this hellhole forever."

"But what about the alligators? That one guy said gators aren't afraid of wolves."

Sariel rolled her eyes. "Honey, I'm afraid of a lot of things. Uncontrollable male shifters, knives being thrown, tight spaces, fire ants. But I'm not afraid of some prehistoric throwback swimming around out there in that murky water. I'm from the desert; we've got nasty stinging critters and snakes galore." Sariel pointed toward the far window, the only one that opened to allow fresh air in. "But that swamp? That's our escape, our way to find a new home, our only shot at survival. That's freedom out there. And no way is some reptile getting in the way of me and freedom."

"So what do we do?"

"We listen...and we watch. Knowledge is our most powerful weapon, little one. We keep our eyes on these men and figure out what's what. Like that the dark one can't smell his own scat, or the tall blond seems to have a little hearing trouble. Stuff like that can be used to our advantage, right?"

Sariel smiled as Angelita nodded. "A little bit longer, and we'll have our chance. It's just a matter of time. Those boys out there think they have a couple of delicate petals on their hands. They've never truly seen what happens when one of us shows our claws."

Angelita was quiet for a moment, her lips pursed. "What if they come for us before then, or they split us up?"

Sariel's stomach dropped, but she held her tongue. She'd heard a conversation about just that thing the other day. They needed Angelita somewhere up north, and Sariel wasn't needed at all anymore. She'd never thought her being sterile would be a good thing, but having been kidnapped by a group who only wanted her so they could breed her had changed her mind in a hurry. Every day, she thanked the stars for that little biological defect. But Angelita wasn't as lucky. The men had left her alone so far, other than to tease and torment the child, but she knew that would end once they got her to wherever they were planning to take her. Angelita was in serious danger, and Sariel could only hope they'd be able to escape together before it all came to a head.

Doing her best to keep her face calm and clear of the worry eating her up from the inside, Sariel tucked the dirty sheet around Angelita's shoulders. "Don't go borrowing trouble, now. We have three things to do—watch, wait, and plan. If we do that, we get out. Period."

Angelita nodded, snuggling into Sariel's side. The two lay quiet and still, listening to the chorus of insects buzzing away. Frogs croaked and splashed, birds screamed, and alligators roared in the distance. Noises Sariel had somehow gotten used to. And by the gods, wasn't it a sick, sad fact that she'd been there long enough to get used to all that?

"What do you want to do when you get out of here?" Angelita asked, breaking the heavy non-silence.

"Besides shower for a whole day?" Sariel winked and smiled, the two of them both uncomfortable with their lack of bathing options. "I want food...real food. And I'd like to find myself a handsome shifter to hold on to for a few hours."

The girl giggled, reminding Sariel of how young she really was. Not just in years, but how inexperienced and immature she could be. The princess of her pack, Angelita was the epitome of a sheltered young woman. Too old to be a child, not yet ready to be a woman. Trapped in the in-between where emotions ran strong and every disappointment seemed to bring on the end of the world. Sariel hoped she could help her get out of this place, to give her the chance to grow up a bit more somewhere safe and secure. Somewhere they'd honor her and protect that innocence as they introduced her slowly to what it meant to be a woman.

But even knowing how careful she needed to be, Sariel wasn't going to lie to the girl. Not about her hopes for when they escaped. If it made Angelita blush, so be it. She'd understand the draw of big, strong arms wrapping around her one day.

"And when I'm clean," Sariel said, grinning at Angelita's blush and looking up at the ceiling. "When my belly's full and I've kicked that nice shifter back to where he came from, I want to go north."

Angelita snuggled closer, tangling their legs together for the comfort of touch. "Why north?"

But, oh, there was danger in that answer. Sariel shrugged, trying to hide the wet burning in her eyes and the way her hands shook. "I've never seen snow, and I think I might like to."

Angelita grew quiet, her face serious as she stared at Sariel in a way that made her think the young one knew why she wanted to see snow. Just once. Because the fact that she'd been kidnapped and brought out to this hellhole in the bayou had put the possibility that her life may end on the front burner in her mind. She was in trouble, and so was Angelita. If Sariel got out of this mess, she was doing all the things she'd put off before the night those men stormed into her home. She was doing all the things she'd ever wanted to so that she didn't feel as if she was missing anything. She was living the life she'd always dreamed of, whether her pack liked it or not.

# Chapter Seven

The late winter sun blazed bright in the western sky as Bez pulled up outside the lake house. The place looked surprisingly well-kept considering how long it had sat empty, though there was a definite air of abandonment to the property. Not that Bez cared much for whether the house was visually pleasing—the location sat close enough to where the Omega was being hidden to use for a stronghold. That detail outweighed any other factors. Hell, Bez would have picked a hunting platform in a tree if he'd had to.

Like all of Blaze's personal properties, the lake house offered privacy, positioned far enough from any other houses to keep nosy neighbors away. A necessity when dealing with men who could turn into wolves at the drop of a hat. Perched on a slight hill and looking over one hundred yards of grass in the three directions away from the lakefront, there was no way to stage an attack on the single-story home without being seen or heard first. An easily defendable location that, if the records Bez had read about the property were still accurate, was filled with weaponry and emergency evac supplies...exactly what he needed.

He used the keypad lock by the garage to gain access to the house, satisfied with the steel fire doors. They wouldn't necessarily keep a shifter out if one wanted in, but they'd slow him down and make his entrance loud instead of stealthy. Perfect for those inside the house.

As expected, the kitchen contained numerous containers filled with non-perishable food and bottled water. Enough for three people to survive for a couple of months at least. Blaze didn't do anything halfway. Bez grabbed a bag of beef jerky and continued through the house, sniffing out every possible hiding place and peeking behind every door.

The ringing of Bez's phone interrupted his investigation, though. He snorted when he saw the name of the incoming caller.

"What's up, old man?" Bez asked, leaning against the bedroom wall and peeking out the window overlooking the lake.

Deus, one of his Dire Wolf brethren chuckled. "Fuck off, kid. At this point, the fact that you're two weeks younger than me is a nonissue."

"That's your opinion." Bez walked back out to the living and dining rooms, pacing through the two, anxious. "What's doing?"

"Why the fuck are you down in Louisiana?"

"You stalking me again?" Bez shook his head. He shouldn't have been surprised. Deus had every one of the guys outfitted with chips in their phones and cars. Mammon liked to joke that the man would have them all microchipped like some puppy next.

"Nah, just got a ping from one of Blaze's lake houses down there, and it coincided with your GPS location. Figured you were gator hunting or some shit."

Bez spun in place, looking harder at the walls and fixtures, wondering what door or motion detector had set off a notification to Deus. And how he hadn't noticed it. "Negative. Got a mission from Blaze."

"Anything you need me for?"

"Not yet. I've got a solid plan in place and some of our brothers chilling in the wings."

"All right, then. Call if you need us." Deus hung up, not giving Bez a chance to reply. The man never did stay on any one subject long, too busy with his computers to bother with people most of the time.

Determined to find the supplies he needed, Bez set back on his investigation of the house. After almost a quarter-hour of snooping through closets and behind doors, he found the cabinet filled with guns and weaponry. Shotguns and automatic rifles stood at the ready, and large metal drawers housed ammunition, handguns, and explosives. In a bottom drawer, Bez found his personal favorite. Large, flat brass rings lay on a wooden support with a dowel shooting through the center. Designed off the Indian throwing rings known as chakrams, the rings practically glowed in the light, beautiful and polished to a sheen. A very deadly sheen. Dire Thaus, the weaponry expert of the group, had taken ancient chakrams and reworked them to fit the hunting style of the Dire Wolves. Light and easy to throw, the rings fit across the width of Bez's hand. Perfectly weighted for flight. Perfectly sharpened to cut through even the thickest of enemy flesh in near silence. Perfectly designed to fit in the pocket of his black fatigues, which was right where a few of them were going. Just in case.

His phone rang again, though this time, the caller's name made Bez roll his eyes.

"What, kid?"

"Why you gotta do me like that, bro?" Levi laughed, a near-constant sound from that particular brother. "I got a buzz from Dante that I need to stick close to you for a bit. What's doing?"

"Mission. Another Omega missing."

"Motherfucker." Levi didn't laugh again, not that Bez expected him to once he knew what the mission was. The Dires were pissed as hell about the attacks on the ones they saw as their kin. Even Levi, the jokester of the group—the one who partied harder than all the rest and took advantage of all the world had to offer a six-five, muscular, good-looking kid like himself in terms of women, liquor, and adventure—raged whenever word reached him that another Omega was in trouble. They all had a soft spot for the shewolves, though Bez had a theory that Levi's soft spot was bigger than anyone else's. He seemed to take each disappearance as a personal challenge to take more risks, stroll into even more dangerous situations all in the name of finding the shewolves. Something that made the rest of the team nervous, including Bez. To accomplish their missions, they all needed to be on point, on plan, and in control of their instincts. Levi pushed every boundary they set and quite possibly endangered every mission.

"What's the plan?" Levi finally asked, his voice rough, his anger clear underneath the words. A man ready to lock and load. But Bez couldn't risk the girl to Levi's cowboy antics.

"I hunt. You stay close as assigned."

"I can come down and hunt with you. I'm not that far—could be there by tomorrow morning."

"Negative. Protocol in these situations states the initial hunt should be solo."

Levi growled loud enough for Bez's wolf to push forward. To growl back at what he saw as a challenge.

"Fuck protocol. We've got an Omega in trouble. Let me help."

Bez considered telling him the full story—about how the captors killed her pack and how she was just a child—but he didn't want to set Levi off any more than he already was. Loose cannons rarely won wars. "Stand down, Leviathan. I've got this covered. You be my shadow and keep your ass close."

Levi was quiet for longer than a pause, but Bez knew he was reining himself back in. The kid had been through just as much military training as the rest of the Dires, but he still struggled with execution on missions. Bez couldn't have that sort of unknown element with this assignment.

"Fine," Levi finally spat. "I'll be at the three-hour mark from your coordinates."

"Four."

"Three, or else I'm showing up on the motherfucking front porch and eating your snacks while you hunt."

Bez growled and slammed a drawer closed. This kid was trying his patience. "Leviathan—"

"I can full name you, too, Beelzebub. Now quit being a dick and accept that fact that three hours away is plenty far enough."

Bez closed his eyes, fighting to control his temper. "Fine. But not a mile closer."

"Fine. Now get your ass out there and hunt, ya lazy wanker. I've got a long drive ahead of me to get into position."

"Three hours, Levi. I'm not fucking around."

"Duh, you never do, asshole."

The phone disconnected, Levi having hung up. Bez glared at the device in his hands. As much as he loved his brothers, he found Levi to be the most challenging. He was the youngest of the seven by nearly fifty years, and he'd never really grown out of that little-brother attitude. At least not enough for Bez's preference.

With a deep breath, Bez pocketed his phone again and got back to work. There was nothing he could do about Levi, and he may need the help later. The kid was better than nothing.

Bez secured the majority of the weaponry back where it belonged before moving toward the large metal box brushing the rafters of the space. Like a shipping container made of highly polished steel, the box sat in the attic along with the closet of weapons. Both accessible only by a pull-down ladder tucked inside an access panel in the ceiling of the back hallway of the house. The attic was nearly airtight, making it difficult for even a shifter with Bez's strong senses to get a read on what was up there. Even with the access panel opened, Bez could hardly smell the scents of the floor below him.

The box turned out to be a simple but secure safe room. With a thick, steel ceiling, armored walls, and keypad entry door, there was no way even someone as strong as a wolf shifter was getting into the metal box without being allowed access. The perfect spot to stash the Omega while Bez and his team hunted the shifters who'd taken her. But first, he had to find her and get her out of the swamp. Alive.

Bez stood in the kitchen and finished his snack before drinking two bottles of water. When finished, he felt fully fueled and antsy to start his search. His wolf had been pawing at him all day, the call of the swamp too much to resist. The animal within needed to hunt, to find, to destroy. Those were his goals, his mission. Bez knew once he let the beast out, there'd be no caging him until he'd succeeded. There was no way he was stopping to rest or coming back empty-handed. He'd hunt through the swampy land for days if he needed to.

And his wolf would love every fucking second of it.

After securing the property, Bez stripped on the covered porch. The sun had dropped a bit in the last hour, marking the time as late afternoon. A time when wolves liked to be lazy and sleep. Bez could take advantage of the wolf's natural tendencies to do a little recon on the camp in the bayou, once he found it. And he would find it. There was no doubt in his mind. Blaze hadn't sent him on this mission without reason. Bez was a natural tracker, a long-time soldier in Blaze's army, and a Dire Wolf. Bigger, badder, and stronger than any other wolf shifters out there. If Blaze wanted him to find the Omega, he _would_ find her. Failure was not an option.

Stretching one last time, Bez shifted to his wolf form, shaking out his fur as his paws landed on the wood planks of the porch. His senses heightened, and his brain quickly caught up with the extra input. This was it, his first chance to find the camp. He wouldn't stop searching until he had their location pinned down. Until he had eyes on the Omega.

With nothing more than a chuff, he took off across the green grass, heading for the woods.

Heading for the hunt.

# Chapter Eight

"What should we do today?"

Sariel dangled her foot off the cot, letting her toes drag back and forth across the wood floor. "I was thinking of heading to the pool. Maybe soak up some sun, work on my tan, and have the cabana boys bring me margaritas all afternoon."

Angelita giggled, a sound that brought a smile to Sariel's face. "No, silly. What are we really going to do?"

Sariel's smiled dropped. "Same thing as always. Sit here and wish we weren't sitting here."

Angelita went quiet, and the room filled with a tension Sariel could feel. Shit. She hated when she lost control of her calm around Angelita. She was just a girl, a young, scared girl who needed someone to look out for her. That had become Sariel's job, and she sometimes sucked at it.

"I was just kidding," Sariel said, trying to keep her voice light. "We could play cards again."

Angelita stayed silent for a moment long enough to make Sariel's heart race. The girl had a way of seeing through everyone around her, including Sariel. If she tried too hard to be upbeat and positive, Angelita withdrew. If she tried too little, the girl would pester her until she reignited her belief that they'd get out of here. Sariel never knew what direction the girl's thoughts would go.

"You know what I want to do today?" Angelita asked in her soft voice.

Sariel turned her head to peer at the girl, assuming she'd be playing cards or checkers or something equally as mind-numbing within a few minutes. "What's that, little one?"

"I want to get off this boat."

The air in the room grew heavier, thicker than just the humidity could cause. Sariel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, putting her words together. Looking for an answer or response that made sense. That would help Angelita refocus on what they could control instead of things out of their reach.

But eventually, Sariel scoffed. They were trapped on a houseboat in the middle of a damn swamp under guard twenty-four seven. As positive as she could be, Sariel had to admit the options for escape were pretty much nonexistent. She dug deep, searching for that hope she had found just a few days before, but it was gone. Blown out by exhaustion and fear. Extinguished.

"Me too," she whispered, curling into a ball on her cot. "By the gods, Angelita. I want off this boat, too."

"If we want it bad enough, we'll get it." Angelita mimicked Sariel's position, drawing her legs up on her own cot as if to sleep. "That's what my grandpa always said. I'm an Omega, and so are you. If we want things bad enough, we'll get them."

Sariel bit her lip, wishing hard that those words were true. Knowing that sometimes, wanting things wasn't enough to actually get them.

"Want with me," Angelita said, her voice low but firm. "Let's take a nap so we can dream of all the things we're going to do when we get out of here. A shower, food, and a big, strong shifter to spend time with...remember? That's what you said. Want with me, Sariel. If we want it bad enough, we'll get it."

"I don't know if I believe all that, Angelita." Sariel slid her arm under her ratty pillow, pulling up every image and thought of what she wanted. Of all the things she'd do once they got off this fucking boat. Of simply surviving another day. She was tired, worn out by the heat and the stench and the desolation she felt. The helplessness. But she could want. If Angelita thought it would help, she would want all fucking day for the kid. She had to.

"Then I'll believe enough for both of us," Angelita said, the squeaking of her cot joining her voice as she turned over. "I'll believe, and we'll both think about all the things we want to happen."

Sariel closed her eyes, letting her thoughts fly, allowing herself to truly, utterly _want_ for the first time since she'd woken up in this hellhole.

# Chapter Nine

After two days and nights of scenting his way through bogs and along the banks of what seemed like an endless maze of rivers, Bez's patience finally paid off. He lay still at the base of a tree, the fur of his wolf completely covered in sticky, putrid-smelling mud. Fifty yards away sat a string of four houseboats tied together. Houseboats reeking of shifters and the decay of the swamp.

Bez spent hours curled around that tree, not moving, barely breathing as he closed off the human side of his mind and let his wolf take over. He sensed five male wolves, though only two seemed to be on the houseboats that day. The other three had left a scent trail through the brush on the spongy shore across from him. He could still see the broken grass and raised edges along the impressions in the mud from their footfalls. Bez also scented two females in residence, both shifters. The second woman concerned him, as she could be one of the male's mates. Bez had never had to kill a woman who wasn't actively trying to kill him. As progressive as he thought himself to be, the idea of killing a female just didn't sit right. But a mated pair was hard to split up, and a mated wolf would fight to the death for its other half. Bez would have to wait and see if he could determine her involvement in the outfit. Standards or no standards, no one was coming between him and the Omega.

The females were quiet through the early afternoon, rarely even speaking in the last boat to the right, while the males watched some show on a television in the far left one. Staying rooted in his spot, only moving enough to make sure his wolf scent buried under the rot of the swampy earth he covered himself in, Bez studied the setup of the enemy camp as he waited for late afternoon to come. One of the men seemed to be the leader, the hub of communication. Message alerts, phone calls, instructing his partner—the man was a bevy of information. He would be Bez's target for phase two of the mission. First, rescue the Omega. Second, capture the enemy for interrogation. That part would require he call in another of his teammates for backup, which he'd do as soon as he got the Omega back to the lake house and into that safe room. Now that he'd found her, he wasn't leaving her behind. He couldn't risk them moving her or hurting her, especially not when he was so close.

As the sun crested across the sky on a slow arc toward the invisible horizon, one man walked across the boats to the one where the women stayed. Short and squat with a choppy gait, he appeared weak to Bez—an easy kill—but Bez wouldn't underestimate him. Something had given these men the strength to take on and destroy an entire pack, whether it was skill or training or the possibility of a werewolf on their side. That feat was enough to make Bez wary.

The man lumbered up the three steps to the women's boat, stopping on the deck to look out over the water. To look exactly in the direction where Bez lay. Bez stared back, not moving, barely breathing. He had made sure to cover himself in the fetid mud of the swamp, so he doubted the man knew he was there. Between the mud and the way Bez had tucked himself against the tree, there was no way the shifter on the boat could see him or smell him. Still, he made sure to be ready to leap into a fight, just in case.

"Yo, Marcus."

Bez turned his eyes toward the second man as he appeared from inside the far left houseboat. This one, tall and lean, carried himself in a manner that made Bez's wolf take notice. Something dark and devious lurked under the surface of that shifter, and he was definitely more of a threat than the other.

The short shifter, Marcus apparently, turned. "What's up?"

"The guys will be back soon; they've got the beast with them."

Bez nearly growled, his stomach burning. Damn it, they'd actually found a werewolf. Or at least, that's what he assumed the man meant by beast. If that assumption proved true, the Omega was in more danger than he'd thought. Werewolves were nearly impossible to kill without beheading, stronger in their wolfish form than most shifters, and able to hide as humans for the vast majority of the month. But when that full moon hung bright in the sky, they brought hell upon any female shifter nearby. Omega or not.

"So what's the plan?" Marcus asked, pulling Bez's attention back to the fuckers on deck.

"Tonight, we keep it boxed here. We're probably going to need to find a human female for the thing to eat; can't go giving him the big meal just yet." The guy smirked, a look that made Bez's wolf want to snarl and challenge him even as he fought to remain still and hidden. "Tomorrow, you take the Omega bitch north with Vreel while Chance and I take the beast to Thunderhead. A full day in the van with the dud ought to turn his crank enough to finish off those mountain men after what they did to Zacor. Even if she isn't exactly whole."

"Whole?" Marcus asked. Bez inched his nose forward, wondering the same thing.

"Yeah," the taller man said, his grin growing wide and hungry. "Gotta keep the blood flowing for him. Easiest way to do that is to cut a little off at a time."

Bez clenched his teeth, holding back a snarl. He hadn't even known the other shifter would be there, but he still felt the sickening sense of guilt at the thought of having to leave her behind when he grabbed the Omega. But his orders were set, and without a second man with him, there was no way he could ensure the safety of the Omega while protecting two women. He'd just have to hope he and his team could get back to the camp in time to help her. He'd be happy to let Thaus loose on the kidnappers once he got the information Blaze wanted. Sick fuckers, this lot.

The tall man glanced at his phone as it pinged. "The moon will start to rise in a few hours. You ever seen one of these monsters feed?"

Marcus shook his head.

"You're in for a real show, my friend. These beasts are a fucking treat. Go nap with the bitches, keep them from getting too chummy. As soon as the moon is high, we'll have to hunt down some female human flesh." The man laughed and walked back into the houseboat, immediately starting a conversation on his phone. Marcus disappeared into the houseboat where the women slept. Bez waited for any sounds from him or the women. It took a moment, but Marcus seemed to find a comfortable spot to "guard" the women. There was a creak, a sigh, and then just the soft, even breathing and slow heartbeat that indicated sleep broke the gentle song of the swamp-loving insects. Three sleeping, one talking loudly on his phone about some human sporting event. One hunting.

Seeing a perfect opportunity, and knowing his time was limited as the others were on their way to the camp, Bez crawled out of the mud and slithered on his belly toward the houseboats. He inched across boggy ground until he reached the water's edge then slipped underneath the black surface, silently rearranging bone and muscle while suspended underwater. In his human form, Bez swam to the side of the boat, completely submerged, refusing to make a single ripple that could give away his position.

Once Bez reached his destination, he mounted the side of the houseboat. Arms stretching and toes supporting, he scaled the metal structure silently, unconcerned with his nudity. The three heartbeats inside beat slow and steady, the breathing just as calm. His first target slept soundly in the company of the two females, making things easier on Bez. The tall male was at least two houseboats over, his laughter interrupting the slosh of the water against the side of the boats. He'd abandoned his phone call while Bez was under water, instead watching some sort of laugh track backed show on his television. Bez clung to the side of the boat and readied himself to move. The loud volume of the show was certainly enough to cover any errant sounds Bez made while extracting the Omega. He was almost thankful to the bastard down the way. Way to make his job easier.

Pulling himself up to the window by his fingertips, Bez peeked through the filthy glass. The two women lay in cots at opposite sides of the room, while the man leaned back in a chair by the door as he rested. Bez's eyes traveled over each woman, wondering which the Omega was. He guessed the dark-haired one on the left as his eyes kept coming back to her. Drawn to her. His instincts letting him know she was what he wanted.

Silently, he slid open the screen and crawled through the open window. He flinched at the smell of the place, sweat and fear and something dirty lingering in the still air. Something worse than the swamp outside. Jesus, how long had the second woman been there?

He landed softly on the wooden floor, his bare feet helping to keep the sounds to a minimum. There was no going back now. He had to eliminate the guard in the room and extricate the Omega. And he had to do it without alerting the other shifter down the way.

All in a day's work, really.

He stepped with care, his movements subtle and deliberate as he snuck across the room toward the guard, the man named Marcus. His eyes lighted upon the woman on his left over and over. She pulled his focus, demanded his attention even in her sleep. But Bez had one job to do first. Before he could grab the Omega, he needed to eliminate the threat. And Marcus, as slow and weak as he appeared, was a threat.

Pulling his wolf forward and letting his fingers shift to claws, Bez walked up behind the sleeping shifter. Silent, barely causing the air to react. He stepped close enough to smell the man, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Raising his hands, Bez brought them in front of the man's throat. Ready...able...determined. In a single, smooth system of movements, Bez grabbed Marcus' chin and sliced his throat with nothing but his claws and brute strength. The man had no time to react, no time to fight back. Still, Bez held Marcus in a paralyzing hold as his blood, his ability to shift and regenerate, ran down the front of his chest. It took a handful of precious seconds, but Bez remained in position until death washed over the man. Until the threat to the Omega was neutralized.

Once Marcus' heart pumped for the last time, Bez turned his attention to the women. The lighter-haired one smelled of salt and sadness, making Bez think she'd cried herself to sleep. The act of a young woman. The other one smelled of sweetness and light, of spice and warmth—an intriguing scent that teased him in ways he'd never experienced. The lighter had to be the younger of the two, and most definitely his Omega, but the older, darker shewolf held his attention, making his head swivel in her direction every other second.

Fucking distractions.

Giving in to his instincts, Bez slipped closer to where the raven-haired woman slept. His wolf prowled along the edges of his mind, interest piqued by the attraction Bez felt to the woman. Obsessed with her shape and smell.

Bez inched his way across the boat, moving silently toward the woman. He couldn't look away from her, wouldn't have wanted to. Something about her...something important spoke to him. Exploded his senses and ensnared his mind. She was witchcraft and heaven, the lure of sin and the forgiveness of faith all rolled up into one dark-haired package. It infuriated Bez, made him wary of her presence. What was this power she had over him to distract him from his mission? Who the hell was she and what was she even doing in this dump?

All questions he and his wolf had to know the answers to.

Bez stopped right next to her cot, his knee brushing the wood frame. The need to touch her brought out more of his human side, made him feel things he hadn't in...well, perhaps ever. Mission delayed, focus shifted from saving the Omega to this unknown being before him, he felt his world spinning slightly off-kilter. And he liked it.

Unable to resist for a single second more, he leaned down slowly, his body tense, sweat forming on his brow. He had to see her, had to know what—

Her eyes opened, the color dark and deep, meeting his in a stare that sent him soaring. Everything, every piece and particle of Bez's life, stopped, shifted, and reset. With one look, the woman lodged herself into his heart, deep within his very soul. His human side shoved his wolf to the back, demanding his space to comprehend what this all meant. The wolf knew, though. The wolf had always known.

She stared with eyes the color of coffee, with a look of peace and understanding dancing across her pretty face. And she took ownership of him. She offered Bez no escape, no chance to refuse her. She simply became his, and he became hers.

His wolf howled in his head, rejoicing at having found her, singing his song of completeness. Happy to finally be mated.

_Mated._

Bez couldn't breathe, couldn't look away. This was his _mate_. Instincts long forgotten in place of strategy and fighting styles flared to life, the bond joining him to this unknown shifter wrapping around his heart and pulling his thoughts away from the mission. None of the Dire Wolves had found their mates, the pack of seven existing instead to fight and kill and hunt. But this woman, this bond, had suddenly made his existence... Tactile. Real. Significant.

Beautiful brown eyes looked up at him, deep and soulful, eyes he wanted to look into until the day he died. Which very well could be that day if he didn't pull himself together. She blinked once, twice, and then those eyes went wide and her heart jumped. Belatedly, Bez remembered he was naked, covered in mud and filth and blood, and standing over a woman he'd never met. Not exactly the most calming of sights. Without pause, he placed his hand over her mouth to hold in her scream, shivering at the feel of her flesh against his. Even if she was trying to bite him.

"Stop. I'm not here to hurt you," he hissed, keeping his voice little more than air. "I'm here to save the Omega. President Blasius Zenne sent me."

The woman stilled, looking worried and fearful. Bez hated that he scared her, hated that he couldn't comfort her in some way, but those instincts were new. He was there to save, not soothe. Finally, his mate swallowed and nodded. She held his gaze as she gripped his wrist, pulling his hand from her mouth.

"Which Omega?"

Bez liked the sound of her voice, dark and deep, filled with a sensual tone. It called to him, left him speechless as it danced across his ears. But then he cocked his head, her words finally filtering through the haze.

"Pardon?"

"Which Omega...? There are two of us."

_Motherfucker._ Bez felt his eyes go wide and his heart make a single, solitary slam against his chest. Of all the fucking luck. Two Omegas, two targets. If he'd known there would be two women to extricate, he'd have brought a second man to secure the second captive. That was basic policy on reverse kidnappings. One Dire per kidnappee. But now—

The woman's face fell, her lips forming a thin line, and her eyes went soft. "I see. You're here for Angelita?"

Bez nodded, slow and heavy. "The pup."

"Then I suggest you get at it." She threw a glance toward the door, gasping when she saw the fallen shifter. "Oh. Okay. Oh, God, he's dead, isn't he?"

Bez watched his mate as she visibly withdrew from the dead body of Marcus. For the first time in his life, he regretted killing something the way he had. Not for the loss of life, but for the way his mate seemed repulsed by it.

The woman finally looked away, closing her eyes tightly for a moment before turning that dark stare on him. "You need to take her, now. Before they come for her. I overheard something about moving her north. She's just a baby, and what these animals intend to do with her would break her very soul."

Bez's wolf wanted to growl, but he held it back. It was recon time, not fight time. Not yet. "What are they planning?"

"I don't know for sure, but it has to be bad." Her eyes grew more worried, her frown turning into a scowl. "They call me the dud because I'm infertile. What does that tell you about their plans?"

The idea of other shifters forcing themselves on his mate snapped his carefully cultivated control. Bez growled, long and loud and unrestrained. The sick fucks deserved to die horrible, painful deaths—ones he'd be thrilled to visit upon them.

The woman glanced to where the young girl slept. "Don't scare her. She's young and extremely naïve. You need to take her right now. Get her the hell out of here before the rest of the men come back."

By the gods, the fates didn't mess around. She was perfect for him, so strong, so brave. And so smart—Bez knew she was right. He needed to haul ass and get the younger Omega out of danger, but he didn't want to leave this woman's side. He willed his legs to move, his body to respond, but his mind and heart and wolf were set. He couldn't ignore the mating bond, couldn't dare fail her. Just the thought of walking away without her by his side gutted him.

Bez shook his head and sighed. "I don't—"

The sound of the other man in camp yelling for Marcus woke Bez from his mate-induced distraction. Fuck, he needed to _go_. Grab the young Omega and run. But this woman was his _mate_ , his one and only, and he would have to leave her behind to be able to get the other Omega out as per the plan. His training told him to leave his mate, to grab the target, secure her, and call in a second team to come back to the houseboat camp. But he knew that wouldn't work. The men would whisk his mate away before he and his team could make it back, leaving him chasing trails and ghosts until he tracked her down. And he would track her down. He was the best tracker anyone had ever seen, impossible to shake or outrun. But what could happen to her in the interim made Bez's blood run cold. No. He couldn't abandon her. Couldn't risk her.

The thought strengthened his resolve and made his brain spin off on a secondary plan. For the first time in his very long life, he would not be following policies, procedures, or orders. He would not be working under the mantle of anyone else. He didn't want to leave his mate behind.

So he wouldn't.

Grabbing his mate's arm, he pulled her out of the cot. "We go. Now."

"But you're only here for her."

Bez yanked her to her feet, harder than he wanted to but needing her to _move_. "Not anymore."

She gave him a hard look, obviously doubting him. Something that almost made him smile. He'd show her, teach her—the last thing she should do was doubt a Dire Wolf.

Bez held out a hand, backing toward where the younger Omega, Angelita, still slept, inviting his mate to follow him. She stared at him thoughtfully, her expression filled with a meaning Bez couldn't figure out. But he wanted to, and he would. Someday. After he'd taken the time to learn everything there was to know about her. But that time wasn't right then, and the place definitely wasn't this shitty houseboat camp.

"Please," he whispered, begging for what had to be the first time in his life. Something that finally got a reaction from his mate. She glanced at his hand once...twice...before taking a deep breath.

And then she grabbed hold of him.

Ignoring the tingles the simple touch sent shooting up his arm, Bez pulled her beside him. He loved the scent of her, wanted to breathe her in for days, but there was no time. The two hurried across the floor to where the younger Omega slept. Considering the reaction his mate had to him standing over her, he let her take the lead. He didn't want to scare the girl and alert the other shifter. Bez stood guard as his mate knelt down next to the cot and brushed Angelita's hair off her forehead.

"C'mon, hon. It's time to go."

The voice of the other guard grew closer, the pitch displaying his irritation when Marcus didn't answer. Not that he could have. Though, the tall one had no way of knowing the man lay dead on the floor, but he would soon.

Angelita opened her eyes, jumping back against the wall when she saw Bez. Before she could scream, his mate put her hand over the girl's mouth and leaned close to whisper in her ear.

"He's here to help us. We're leaving. Right now."

It took the younger Omega barely a second to understand the words. Once she did, she hopped out of the bed and grabbed his mate's hand. Clinging to one another, the two women looked up at him, ready but questioning. Wanting to leave but obviously afraid.

"What do we do now?" his mate asked. Bez didn't want her to see what he was about to do, but he couldn't lie to her. So he didn't.

"You two hide. I kill the guard. Then we run."

# Chapter Ten

Sariel stared at the man who'd woken her, unable to form words. He planned on killing the guard...in front of her and Angelita. Her hands shook with the adrenaline racing through her bloodstream, and her skin felt clammy beneath the cotton tank top and shorts she'd donned for her nap. He terrified her with his casual cruelty, and yet her body yearned for him, demanding she move closer. The strength of the wolf inside her was the only thing keeping her from going into shock. Her mate...this man was her _mate_. Huge and beastly, with the lightest, fiercest eyes she'd ever seen, he stood before her talking about killing a shifter as if it were just another item on his to-do list. Which Sariel guessed it technically was.

But he was her _mate_.

When she'd first realized that fact, lying in the cot as he loomed over her in the shadows, she thought the fates were mocking her. Assuming he worked with the men who'd stolen her from her home, her stomach had roiled in dread. Thankfully, the fates had been kind, not cruel. They'd sent her a mate who was strong and powerful, near-savage it seemed. Not one who'd already done so much harm to her. They'd sent her exactly the man she needed.

And she wasn't going to squander this opportunity.

"C'mon, kid. Let's get out of the way." She gripped Angelita's hand and dragged her farther back, giving her mate room to do what he needed to. She'd told the girl they'd get out of this hell. If this man, this big beast of a shifter the fates had sent to her as her destined soul mate, was willing to help them, so be it. She knew she could trust the man fated for her. The man watching her with eyes she almost couldn't tear her own away from.

Her heart skipped as he stared, as words defining their bond echoed in her head. Fated...mated...claimed. Her mate had found her. What a massive bit of craziness to add to this screwed-up situation. She'd met her mate while being held hostage in a houseboat in the middle of a swamp. That should have been the plot of some crazy movie, not reality. And yet, he'd shown up to save them. Well, technically, he'd shown up to save Angelita. She was more of a complication to him, it seemed. The thought of him leaving her behind, taking only Angelita and rescuing the young girl as he'd planned, had made her sick at first. Even sicker than assuming he was one of the men who'd kidnapped her in the first place. She didn't want to be left behind. She couldn't stand to live another second in this prison, especially now that she'd glimpsed a way out. She would have followed them if she'd had to. But she didn't have to—he seemed just as against leaving her behind as she felt about being left.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught Sariel's attention a second behind her mystery man. He turned his ice-blue eyes toward the noise in a move that was pure predator, all animal...totally hot in a weird he's-strong-enough-to-take-on-my-enemies sort of way. And as much as she almost didn't want to admit it, that level of aggression and protectiveness _was_ hot. She'd been cooped up for weeks, terrified the men guarding her would hurt her in some way other than the mental torture that delighted them, and unable to figure a way out for her and Angelita. Screw her independent nature, her mate had shown up, big and bad and looking like a monster in the dim light, but he was ready to save her. She could fight her own battles another day. Right then, she wanted nothing more than to hop on that white horse of his and let him lead them all off into the sunset.

Or through the swamp, as the case seemed to be.

"Marcus," the approaching guard yelled from outside. "Wake your lazy ass up." The footsteps grew louder.

Sariel's mate motioned for her and Angelita to move farther back, away from the door. Sariel dragged Angelita to the corner, crouching down and wrapping herself around the younger girl. He watched them, his eyes on hers, until he seemed satisfied that Sariel and Angelita were settled into a good spot.

Without warning, he stalked to the door, angling his head toward the sound of the approaching guard. There was something beautiful in his harsh extremes, something sexy in the way he let his inner animal rule his body. He reeked of shifter with very little of his human side shining through. That fact alone had her fixated on him, had her wolf practically hunting him. Wanting him.

Taller than most shifters or human men she'd known, he stood just behind the door, his head brushing the low ceiling. He curled his broad shoulders into a hunting pose, the muscles corded across his back. His thighs tight with anticipation. Pure and utter hunter.

He cocked his shorn head as the guard's footsteps hit the deck of the second houseboat, ready and definitely able to fight. Moonlight shone through the open window, bathing him in a silvery glow. She assumed he was blond based solely on his lighter eyebrows and the hair leading down from his navel, not that it mattered. He was big and bold, larger than life, his body screaming of masculinity. And he was about to kill a man while she watched, to save them all.

Grabbing Angelita and turning her head away from the door, Sariel angled her body to protect the girl from what she knew was about to happen. Her mate had been sent here for the younger woman, and though Sariel hadn't been a consideration of the rescue, she was grateful for him. She couldn't have saved the girl on her own. She would have tried and tried hard, but she doubted she would have succeeded. Sariel would happily help keep the younger Omega safe so he could fulfill whatever plans Blasius Zenne had tasked him with.

The footsteps grew closer, the guard's stride gaining speed. Her mate gave her one last look over his shoulder before he crouched into a pouncing position. Every inch of him hard and tense, ready. Able. Savage.

The guard kicked the door open at the exact same moment the blue-eyed stranger struck. Sariel barely had a chance to see what happened because her mate moved so fast. The door had only just opened when her mate's hand slashed across the guard's throat, his other arm pushing the man to the floor as blood sprayed from his neck. Before Sariel could even take a breath, her mate turned—eyes glowing, chest heaving—and looked right at her. She could feel the tension between them, relished in the tightening of the bond. The connection to him. Her mate had killed for her. Had protected her and the young one they were responsible for. He'd proven himself as a strong and able male. God, that was exceptionally sexy in a very primal, animalistic kind of way.

"We go. Now." His words were an order, almost nothing more than a grunt. Sariel nodded. She may have been strong with the power of her Omega, but this beast was a totally different animal. He could raze the world if he needed to, and she knew it. She sensed it. That knowledge made something ancient and carnal burn through her blood, a form of attraction that had her growling low and soft. Her mate responded with his own growl, his light eyes following her as she stood and moved closer. But before Sariel could take more than a few steps, Angelita grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the moment.

"What do we do?" Angelita asked, sounding slightly panicked. Understandably so.

Sariel stared into the fiery eyes of her mate, refusing to look away even as she sensed how much more wolf than man he was at that moment. "We do whatever he says. We follow him from here on out."

The man grunted, still watching her. She felt more than saw his wolf surge, those eyes going from washed-out aquamarine to bright silver and back. The color spinning in a way that pinged something in her memory. Something she'd learned about but never seen.

She faltered, unable to hold his gaze a second longer. The moment had gotten too intense, the pull to him too hard to resist. She had to break the spell.

"Now what?" she whispered when she was finally able to look up from the floor. He glanced from Sariel to Angelita, eyes hard and face giving nothing away, before motioning them over to the far side of the houseboat.

"Up and out, ladies."

Not what she was expecting, but she didn't refuse. The three slipped out the window, dropping into the swamp below. Sariel hated the feeling of the water surrounding her. Hated even more knowing there were things beneath the surface that could be more predator than she was. Though she doubted they were more predator than her mate.

Sariel swam and waded her way through the dark water and mucky riverbed, trudging on until they reached a spot of land dry enough to gain their footing. She stumbled up the grassy land first, holding on to Angelita's hand and pulling her along.

"I never want to go swimming again," Sariel said with a shiver. Her mate stalked out of the swamp, staring at her as if she were something to eat...to devour. And by the gods, she wanted that man to devour her. Droplets of water, mud, and muck clinging to every curve of his body, running down the length of it. Accentuating every hard muscle. She bit her lip and shivered, pulling at her sodden clothes. "What now?"

Her mate took a moment to investigate their location, looking all around them and even up to the sky. Sariel mimicked him, though she doubted she saw the things he did. Still, it was a joy to be standing outside underneath the night sky again. The moon hung heavy, on its way to its pinnacle. Full moons always made her twitchy, made her inner animal itch to be released. Tonight was no different. Hell, the moon affected humans every month. It certainly affected shifters just as much.

"They're coming back." Her mate looked out across the water they'd crossed, his eyes sharp and his chest still as he held his breath. He glared into the distance, a steely determination on his face. "We need to run."

"As wolf or human?"

He turned to her, his eyes blue once more. "Wolf."

Sariel pulled her tank top over her head, glad to be rid of the sticky, wet fabric. The night air felt amazing against her skin, for once the humidity a benefit instead of an irritation. Her mate watched her, his eyes following her hands as she dropped them to the waistband of her shorts. She hooked her thumbs beneath the elastic and slid them over her hips. The weight of the water pulled them down her legs, and they fell to the grass with a muffled splat. Sariel kicked them off, standing on the balls of her feet, and stretched.

"God, I've missed my wolf." She wanted to dance in the night, celebrate being released from her cage, but she knew there was no time. Still, she stood brazen and bold, completely naked in front of her mate, and let the slight breeze blowing through the trees caress her body as it hadn't in months. Her mate watched her, stared at her, ate her up with his eyes. His gaze slid over every curve of her body, head to toe, almost as if he was memorizing her. Every inch of her felt that stare, responding as if to touch. Nipples hard, goose bumps rising, Sariel held still and let her mate _see_ her as she waited to let her wolf free.

"I can't." The little voice may as well have been a bucket of ice water thrown over Sariel. She and her mate turned in an odd sort of unison, both staring at an extremely uncomfortable-looking Angelita.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Sariel asked.

"I can't shift on command. I've never been able to."

Her mate growled as the sound of an engine grew in the distance. "Our wolves have a better chance in this swamp." He turned those glowing eyes on Angelita, the power of his inner wolf making the air feel electrified. "Shift to your wolf."

Angelita whimpered and shook her head. "I can't."

The thump of car doors closing reached Sariel's sensitive ears, and her heart raced as she watched the showdown between man and girl.

"Omega, you need to shift. Now."

Angelita met Sariel's concerned gaze, her eyes wide with fear. "I can't. I swear, I can't. If I try, I'll fail. I can't even feel my wolf spirit right now."

Sariel looked to her mate, ready to follow his lead. He gave her a heated once-over, his eyes resting on her chest for a long second before meeting her own.

"Shift."

With a nod, Sariel shifted to her wolf form, sinking fast to the gray wolf of her second form. The man went still, eyes wide as he looked off in the direction of the houseboats. The scent of something rotten and wrong met Sariel's nose, and she shook her head to try to rid herself of the stench. The man breathed deeper, nostrils flaring, hands clenching into fists.

"Motherfucker," he hissed, turning back to the women. "Do you smell that, Omega? Do you sense the wrongness of the monster?"

Angelita nodded, her eyes bouncing from the man to the darkness behind him.

"That's the scent of werewolf, little one. Real, honest to God, beasts of the moon, werewolves."

Angelita gasped and took a step back as Sariel whined, desperate to run. There weren't a lot of things that could make her feel the level of terror currently winding around her heart, but the presence of a werewolf was certainly one of them. Half dead, rotting away under the full moons, werewolves were the epitome of all that was wrong with an animal and human mix. They hunted relentlessly, killed indiscriminately, and wreaked havoc for three nights whenever the full moon lit up the sky. The way it did that night. And—the most terrifying fact of all to her—they only hunted female shifters. They attacked mercilessly, sometimes wiping out every female in a pack in one night, feeding off the bodies of the fallen women. A fact that led most shewolves to run for their lives when the beasts showed up. And damn, did Sariel want to run. But she wanted to bring Angelita with her.

"Omega," the man said, the stiff set of his jaw the only outward sign of the tension that had to be nearly suffocating him. "We have to—"

"I can't!" Angelita exclaimed, her breaths coming so fast, Sariel worried the girl would hyperventilate.

Sariel whined and rubbed her side along Angelita's legs, pushing her fur against the girl's skin, wishing it was enough to get her to reach her wolf spirit. But Angelita stood, human as ever, trembling and gasping in her fright. Sariel had one terrifying moment when her mate turned away from them, thinking he'd run off and leave Angelita behind. But she should have known better.

With a growl, her mate grabbed Angelita around her waist, hauling her off her feet. The girl yelped as he tossed her on his back and began to move, strides long and aggressive. In two steps, he morphed from man to animal, his sterling wolf form taller and longer than her own. A huge, uniquely colored beast that almost made her stop in her tracks.

A Dire Wolf.

Assumed extinct, Dire Wolves had been the gladiators of the shifter world. Their size and strength were legendary, their fierceness in battle told in stories over campfires and with a sense of respect, of reverence and fear. But Dires were extinct—no one had seen one for over two hundred years. Until tonight, of course. The size of him, the heaviness of his muscles, the breadth of his shoulders, and the unique ermine spots along his back and haunches revealed her mate for what he truly was. A beast of battle; a weapon in the war on the worst of the things that went bump in the night. Untamed, unbeatable, and uncontrollable.

Oh hell, what had the fates been thinking?

# Chapter Eleven

Her mate ran hard and fast across the swamplands. Sariel followed, struggling to keep pace but refusing to slow him down. Angelita clung to his thick neck with her eyes squeezed shut. Sariel wished she could comfort the girl, could tell her things would be okay, but as the sound of men's voices reached their ears, even she doubted.

They yelled and hollered, splashing through the water behind her. Sariel ran harder, desperate to put distance between her and her captors. Her mate growled with every stride, his paws eating up the earth under their feet.

And then the howling began. Deep and dark, it was not a sound a shifter would make. The call of a werewolf on the hunt. She whimpered on the second howl, stumbled on the third. Once she regained her footing, her mate edged closer, brushing his shoulder against hers with every step. Supporting her with his touch. Sariel took what comfort she could from his presence and ran harder.

Sariel and her mate raced through the woods along the riverbank, paws flying across the swampy earth. She followed his lead, stretching her body to keep up as best she could over the difficult terrain. The sounds of the animals chasing them were enough to make her want to run faster, though, so she did. She was determined to escape. To live.

About an hour into their run, deep in a wilderness that made Sariel's hackles rise, Angelita pulled the man to a stop.

"I think I'm ready now," she said.

Sariel's mate shifted to his human form, dropping to one knee in front of the girl so he could look her in the eye. "We must hurry, Omega. Shift."

Angelita closed her eyes and curled her hands into fists. For several minutes, she struggled, trying to pull her inner wolf forward. Sariel waited and watched, her heart breaking for the girl. Shifting forms, while natural, still took time to learn. It took strength and mental skill to access the magic of their kind. Angelita wasn't ready yet.

The Dire glanced at Sariel before placing a hand on Angelita's arm, stopping her. "Omega, we need to keep moving."

"I can do this."

"No, I don't think you can."

"Yes." Angelita's eyes went dark, her shoulders back and her hands in fists. "I'll show you. I just need a minute."

The man glanced around the woods. "We don't have a minute."

"I can do this on my own." Angelita's voice rose, almost yelling at the man.

He glared at her, eyes streaked with liquid silver and glowing. "Then shift, Omega."

"Give me a minute," Angelita cried, her face red.

"There is no time for waiting; we must move." He grabbed her arm at the elbow and placed his other hand on her forehead. "Shift, now."

Sariel took a step back, growling at the energy she sensed surging from the earth. Angelita's eyes went wide as what felt an awful lot like some kind of bastardized Alpha-order exploded into the clearing. She dropped her head back, body tense as the force around her brought her to her toes, pulling her up. Bending her body to someone else's will. Angelita's jaw fell open, her throat working as if to scream, but no sound came out. She was silent, stretched and taut and screaming her agony in her own mind.

Slowly, Angelita began to change, bones and muscles rearranging themselves into a lupine shape. The girl trembled, body tense, fighting every alteration. Sariel whimpered as she watched, horrified. Changing so slowly would be painful—more than just painful, it would be torture. She couldn't take bearing witness to it any longer.

Sariel shifted human, yelling to Angelita even before she'd fully made the switch. "Relax, don't fight it. It won't hurt so much if you stop fighting."

Angelita's head fell to the side, her eyes meeting Sariel's. Looking tired and so very frightened.

The older shifter nodded, giving the girl a small smile. "It'll be okay; just fall into it. Let your wolf take over. She'll protect you."

As Angelita began to shift faster, closing her eyes and allowing her wolf to push through, Sariel walked to the side of her mate. His body tensed as she approached, his eyes locked on the shifting form of the younger girl. Sariel saw his regret in the clench of his jaw, the tic of a muscle near his eye. He hadn't meant for Angelita's shift to go so wrong.

Not able to stand seeing him in distress, Sariel walked right up beside him, purposely brushing her shoulder against his arm. He jerked and looked down, obviously surprised when her skin met his. Sariel waited, watching him, continuing to touch him in her subtle way. Wolves, as pack animals, relied on touch; they needed it. Touch from a packmate could calm the nerves or lessen a bout of sadness. Her mate acted as if he didn't like to be touched, but Sariel knew differently. The need for physical contact was part of who they were, in their nature. Touch healed.

Sariel stayed where she was, leaning into his arm until he sighed and pressed back. Taking comfort and giving it, all at the same time. She smiled up at him before leaning her head against his bicep and looking back to where Angelita stood. And then they waited for the young girl to finish the longest shift Sariel had ever seen.

Once fully wolf, Angelita fell to the grassy floor of the forest. Sariel followed, shifting without moving away from her mate, brushing her fur against his leg as she waited. Angelita's red wolf was petite but obviously strong, with a lean yet muscular physique. Sariel could tell she'd be able to handle the run once she physically recovered from that horrible shift. Recovering mentally would be a different story.

It took Angelita several seconds to be able to push to her feet, her chest still heaving and her legs wobbly. She looked exhausted. Sariel hurried to her, nuzzling and whining at the little wolf. Trying to give the girl the support she obviously needed. Her mate shifted back to his animal form as well, the wolves huddling together to comfort their youngest member.

Sariel's mate was the first to break contact, moving a few steps away and scenting the air around them for signs of danger. There was no rot drifting with the breeze, no sound of a beast coming after them through the woods. Still, Sariel worried. Her mate must have as well because, with a huff and a quiet yip, he ran ahead, the two shewolves immediately following him through the night. Sariel stayed next to Angelita, refusing to take even one step in front of the girl. She would not allow Angelita to be left behind.

Eventually, the man led them to a dusty old Jeep with gigantic tires parked along a stretch of road so rough and buried in the trees, she doubted most people even knew it was there. Perhaps a service road or fire stop. Whatever it was, she'd never been happier to see a vehicle in her entire life. Especially one that looked made for off-roading.

Her mate shifted as they approached the Jeep, never breaking stride while he went from four feet to two. Sariel followed, cracking her neck as skin replaced fur. Angelita stayed wolf, probably too afraid of getting stuck in her human form to shift back.

Naked and dirty, Sariel and her mate hurried to the Jeep with Angelita padding along behind them. Sariel held open the passenger door for the wolf, giving Angelita enough room to jump into the backseat before hopping into the front.

As her mate turned the key that had been left in the ignition, he glanced at Sariel. She could only imagine what a sight she had to be. Naked, filthy, covered in muck and God knew what else from the swamp. Not exactly pinup material. She fidgeted in her seat, crossing her legs and bringing her hands to her knees. She'd never been uncomfortable naked before, never really thought about it, as wolf shifters tended to be naked a lot. But this was different. This was her mate, and he was seeing her not just naked, but a mess.

What she wouldn't give for that day-long shower right then.

Finally, her mate looked away, easing some of the strain on Sariel's nerves. "There's a blanket and a pack of clothes in the back if you can reach them." He slammed on the gas as he spoke, the tires kicking up dirt as they raced down the road.

Sariel reached behind her, grabbing a blanket to wrap around herself and tossing a small cylinder of fabric at him. "This is all that's back there."

He unwrapped the fabric, unrolling a shirt and a pair of ratty camouflage shorts that looked as if they'd come from some kind of uniform pants. He handed her the clothes, barely flicking a glance her way. She fingered the edge of the shorts fabric, suddenly nervous.

"Um, here." She handed him the shorts, trying hard not to stare at his naked body. Trying and failing. He was so cut, so ridiculously muscled. But even that couldn't describe him fully. The man was simply big...tall and broad, muscular and strong. A solid wall of wolf shifter.

She couldn't help but let her eyes wander over his hands as they wrapped around the steering wheel, down his rigid arms, to the rounded muscles of his shoulders. His jaw clenched as she inspected him; as her eyes traveled from his chin to his nose, back down along his neck to his chest. Lower still, over the curves and ripples of his abs, dancing along his Adonis belt before straying to where his thick penis rested against his thigh. Big, like him. Blunt and fat. Sariel shivered but took a deep breath, fighting off the wave of arousal seeing him so free and naked caused. While she watched, his penis twitched, growing fuller with every second. Mesmerized, she stared, her mouth falling open, her breathing coming faster. Good Lord, he was just so _thick_.

They hit a rough bump in the road, causing the Jeep to jerk hard to one side. Sariel ripped her eyes away from her mate's lap, her cheeks heating when she found him staring at her. Watching her. Knowing what she was looking at and probably how it made her feel. The mating haze was strong, the bond demanding. It didn't matter that they were literally running for their lives or that there was another person in the back seat. She wanted him, and she knew he could sense the desire pouring off of her.

He gave her a hard look, his eyes dropping to her legs for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. Without a second glance, he reached for the shorts, brushing his rough fingers lightly across the backs of her hands, and placed the fabric across his lap.

"Put the shirt on."

His voice felt like a reprimand, one that made Sariel's confidence backslide. Stomach sinking and face burning hotter than before, she did as she was told and pulled on the shirt. There was a hole in the side, small and perfectly round, but at least the fabric covered her to the middle of her thighs. Long and gray and soft, smelling like her mate, the shirt was a simple point of comfort. One she clung to. Once appropriately covered, she turned her body toward the passenger door and did her best to ignore the man less than a foot away. The one she sensed was trying hard to ignore her as well as he tugged the shorts up his long legs while driving.

What seemed like hours later, they pulled up outside a small house on a lakeshore. Her mate let the Jeep slide to a stop out front and then reached into the glove box to grab what looked like a black cell phone. Before she could ask, he jumped out of the vehicle, leaving her behind. Sariel sat and watched him leave, her heart thumping and her stomach sick. She had no idea where they were and why they weren't driving farther out of the area. And she had no clue how to even speak to a man like her mate. Shouldn't she at least be able to find _something_ to say?

When the women didn't follow him, he slowed and turned, raising an eyebrow at Sariel as she waited in the Jeep with Angelita.

"Come." He motioned for them to follow.

Well, perhaps the inability to string words together was a problem on both their sides. Sariel crawled down from the huge vehicle, helping Angelita to the ground before walking in his direction. He watched her approach, looking her over, his eyes trailing along her body in a way that was blatantly sexual. The fire in his gaze put her body on alert, making butterflies explode in her stomach. But then he shook his head, furrowing his brow, and Sariel's excitement crashed back down to earth. Damn, she didn't know where to begin with him.

Without a word, he turned and stalked toward the house. Sariel hurried to keep up with his long stride as Angelita raced past, still in wolf form. He took the three stairs in a single step, his eyes on his phone. Couldn't he at least pay them some attention before doing...whatever it was he was doing?

"What now?" she asked as she stepped on the porch.

Her mate used a keypad to unlock the front door and led them inside, already listening to the ringing of his phone call. "We hole up and call for backup."

"We're not running?"

"If we run, they'll chase. I'd rather fight them on my terms than theirs."

Sariel glanced at Angelita, who sat on the floor watching them. Damn, she wanted to trust him, trust the man who'd come to help them, but she also wanted to get far away from this place.

"How can you be sure they'll follow us here?"

He snorted, not looking at her. "Because you two are here. They'll come."

Sariel was about to respond when Bez held up his hand, shushing her with one finger.

"The target has been acquired. I'm going to need backup." His body went still as he listened, his voice growing rougher when he spoke again. "Negative. There isn't time." He glanced at a clock and sighed. "Understood."

Sariel followed him through the house as he hung up and repocketed his phone. "So we're bait? We're just going to sit here and wait for them to come and take us again?"

His cool eyes met hers, hard and direct, not a single sign of affection or mate bond present. "They'll come, and they'll try to recapture or kill the two of you. But they won't succeed. My orders are clear—save the Omega at all costs."

"But you've already broken your orders," Sariel whispered, a knot forming in her stomach. "Save the Omega...singular. You brought me along when you should have left me and just taken Angelita. She's your mission."

His jaw clenched, a tic forming along the edge. "Strategical decision."

Sariel crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, unable to hide the shake in her voice. "And what about me?"

He stared at her for a moment, icy eyes harsh. Unwavering, unemotional...and uninterested. "You're not part of the plan."

# Chapter Twelve

Bez watched his mate's face fall, an unfamiliar sensation in his gut telling him something he'd done had caused her pain. He hated that look, the way her eyes went dead and flat, and how her spark disappeared. It made her seem almost dead inside, and though he didn't know exactly how he'd messed up, the last thing Bez wanted was to see her dead in any way.

He searched for the words that would fix his mistake, that would take that look off her face, but he had none. And by the way her shoulders rolled forward in defeat, she knew it. Damn it, why did he have to find her _now_? After all the years alone, centuries upon centuries of living the life of a nomad with his Dire Wolf brothers, he stumbled upon his mate in the middle of a fucking mission. He couldn't have prepared for this.

After a long, tense moment, the woman took a deep breath and lifted her chin, almost challenging him. Bez's wolf perked up, eyeing her, waiting to see what she had planned. She gave Bez a hard look, one that made his wolf whine inside his head. One that made his blood rush south to his long-neglected cock.

"I need to take a shower," she said, her voice firm.

Bez felt his eyebrows draw together. He wanted to ask her what he'd done wrong and how to fix it, but he stayed silent. Instead, he pointed toward the back of the house. The woman nodded once, glanced at the wolf at his side, and strode down the hall toward the bathroom. He watched her go, a sense of dread knotting his gut and telling him he'd just made a huge mistake. Not a familiar feeling for him.

The wolf at his side, the Omega named Angelita, whined as she watched her friend leave.

"She wants to bathe," Bez said, frowning at how unnecessary the words were. "I have no idea what just happened."

Angelita chuffed, an almost mocking sound, which seemed fitting considering the situation.

"What?" Bez asked. "Am I supposed to know what's going on in that woman's head?"

Angelita didn't answer. Instead, the wolf hopped on the couch and waited, watching him, making Bez feel somehow expected to do...something. When he didn't move, she barked. Bez growled in response, his own wolf forcing his human spirit aside. The shewolf wagged her tail and perked her ears as she waited, the picture of youthful ignorance. If she knew the kind of man he was, the things he'd done over the years, she wouldn't want him anywhere near her. But right then, she did.

Bez approached the couch with caution, his steps slow. He wasn't afraid of the little wolf, but she made him feel off-balance, just as his mate did. That sensation was something he didn't like, something he was unaccustomed to experiencing. He recognized that he was treating the women as if they were dangerous, and wasn't that just a mind fuck. A tiny teenage shewolf and his own mate, dangerous to _him_.

With more care than probably necessary considering the small build of the girl, Bez lowered himself to the couch, leaving lots of space between him and Angelita. She shuffled closer, making soft, chuffing noises. Bez growled back, his wolf uncertain if her actions were some kind of challenge or not.

When her nose hit his thigh, Bez huffed. "If you have something to say, Omega, shift back and say it."

The wolf froze, staring at him deep and hard for a moment before she dropped her eyes. Bez could almost feel the sadness pouring off her, the desperation. His wolf surged forward, seeing her as something to guard and protect. More so than just in the context of following Blaze's orders. He suddenly saw her as pack, which threw Bez even more off-balance. He wasn't a protector. He was a hunter, a tracker, and an assassin. His idea of keeping the Omega safe had been to lock her in the safe room and wait until someone else could deal with her. Now he had two Omegas on his hands, and he couldn't imagine leaving either of them alone.

Unsure what to do next, Bez said the only words he could think of. "You can't shift back, can you?"

Angelita shook her head and whimpered.

"I've never tried to reverse a forced shift, but we could try. If you wanted to." He held up his hands at her fierce growl. "No. Okay. Gotcha."

The red wolf relaxed again, though her eyes were still wary and watchful. Untrusting. Regret wasn't something Bez was used to bearing, but he practically bowed under the weight of it right then. Regret for not protecting her better, regret for forcing her to shift, regret for not knowing how to fix what he'd done.

He didn't like this regret shit.

Bez lifted his hand, his movements unsteady and awkward. Compassion wasn't his thing... He didn't touch. He didn't feel. He didn't... Without allowing himself time to think his actions through, he brought his hand around to the back of Angelita's neck. And he rubbed.

"It's okay," he said, staring at the way his fingers moved in her fur. Wondering when the last time he'd voluntarily touched someone other than in a formal greeting had been. "Those first shifts can be brutal. I couldn't shift at will until I was nineteen. Before that, every shift my father forced upon me was painful and seemed to take forever, and coming back on my own was such a long and arduous process."

The girl watched him with her wide eyes. Waiting for something he couldn't identify. Bez's massage faltered, his mouth going dry. Fuck, what was he supposed to say? The Omega lay there looking at him, not giving him any clue as to what she wanted. Bez hated not knowing the next step in a plan. Hated it so much, he refused to live that way. But damn, the two Omegas had thrown his world completely upside down in the course of just one evening. And the night wasn't over yet.

Sighing, rubbing his free hand over his head, he surrendered to those deep, dark eyes staring up at him. "You'll shift back when you're ready. You're still too young yet to deal with the pressure I put on you. I...shouldn't have forced you to shift that way."

As Bez fell silent, he found himself staring down the hall where his mate had disappeared. Angelita must have felt more comfortable with his silence than his words. She inched closer, curling up next to him with her head on his knee. Bez kept his fingers buried in her fur, the close proximity of another shifter calming the confusion in his mind. A very unexpected benefit of the whole touching thing. The comfort soothed him, lulled him into a state of emotion he'd never experienced.

"Did I mess something up?" The words almost surprised him, the weakness behind them something he hadn't wanted to share.

Angelita sniffed, an agreeable sound if he had to guess.

Bez swallowed, listening to the sounds coming from down the hall. The water falling and meeting skin, the splash of something against tile. The noises that came from his mate as she bathed.

His _mate_...

"I don't know how to do this." Bez licked his lips, fighting to get the words out. "I've never done anything like this. Ever. She's..."

He couldn't say it, couldn't tell Angelita he'd found his mate before he said the words to the woman herself. A woman whose name he didn't yet know.

"Oh, shit." Bez rubbed a rough hand over his shorn head. He hadn't asked her name, and he certainly hadn't offered his. True, he'd made sure to save her along with Angelita, purely for selfish reasons if he were being honest, but he hadn't treated her as a mate should be treated. He hadn't made things easier on her or offered her a single piece of himself. He hadn't even told her _his name_.

But the danger hadn't subsided, and he was still thinking like a soldier, not a mate. The threat of a hunting werewolf during a full moon was a real one, particularly for the women. The men from the camp would find them, dragging the beast along with them. They'd try to control it, to keep it away from the Omega and send it after his mate. A woman they saw as disposable. That thought made his blood boil and his wolf snarl viciously in his head. His mate was no more disposable than he was, and he'd prove it to anyone who dared treat her otherwise. But he'd need help to eliminate the threat.

"Fuck." Bez threw his head back and pulled his phone from the pocket of his shorts. He'd never made this kind of call, never had to ask for help from anyone outside of his brothers. Not until now. Not until he started working outside of his orders.

His fingers flew over the screen as he dialed the number from memory. Carefully, he lifted Angelita's muzzle off his thigh, letting it fall back to the seat of the couch as he stood up. Bez stalked across the floor as he waited for Dante to pick up, growling low and steady. This had to work. There was nothing more he could do, not on his own. He had a job to do in keeping Angelita safe from harm, but he had a personal responsibility to his mate as well. Both women were his to care for, and he couldn't do it alone. He needed help to keep both women safe.

After what seemed like a hundred rings, Dante's voice came through the other end. "What's the news, Bez?"

"Change in plans."

Dante's pause would have been almost unnoticeable to anyone else, but Bez had worked closely with him and Blaze for a long time. That pause might as well have been a scream.

"What's the situation?" Dante asked, his voice a bit lower.

"Three shifters heading our way, plus a werewolf on the hunt."

"Ah, fuck." The click of Dante's typing sounded like automatic gunfire in the distance, his fingers obviously flying fast over the keys. "How much time?"

"Couple of hours at most."

"Damn it, Beelzebub. You're not giving us a lot of options."

Bez squeezed his eyes shut. "I know, sir."

"You have a place to hole up?"

"The lake house outside of Port Barre. There's an arsenal and a safe room. I hate to use it, but it'll work to keep the were away from—" Bez took a deep breath "—the Omegas."

The silence on the other end lasted far longer than Dante's original pause, not something anyone would miss. Bez knew the information that there were two Omegas involved would shock the shifter.

After almost twenty seconds of stunned silence, Dante growled, "What do you mean, Omegas? Please tell me you misspoke."

Bez made another pass around the room, slowing slightly. "There were two Omegas at the camp, sir."

Dante cursed low and guttural. "And you took them both with you?"

"Yes, sir."

More silence. Bez's head shot up as the shower turned off, his ears perking at the scratch of a towel against skin. His mate would be finished soon, and he still had no idea what to say to her.

Angelita hopped off the couch and walked down the hall, leaving Bez to his phone call. He listened as she trotted into the back right bedroom and jumped on the bed, the mattress creaking under even her slight weight. He'd need to move her upstairs soon, into the cold, steel box that could keep her alive in the event the were got past him, but he could allow her to sleep downstairs in a comfortable bed for now. If he kept his wolf closer to the surface, he'd hear the threat of the men and their beast coming long before they hit the property.

"Do we know which pack Omega Two belongs to?" Dante asked, drawing Bez's attention back to the conversation.

"No, sir."

"Does she match the descriptions of any of the missing Omegas reported?"

"No, sir."

"Have you questioned her?"

"No, sir."

"How do you know she's not a threat?"

Bez paused, listening as his mate padded across the tile floor of the bathroom. The soldier in him said to give Dante all the details, to tell him he'd found his mate in the second Omega. But again, Bez didn't want to say the words for the first time unless they were to _her_. Something in him, some deep and nearly dead place inside, told him that was the right thing to do. To tell others instead first would be disrespectful to her and to the sanctity of the mating claim. And if there was one thing a Dire Wolf understood, it was the importance of respect.

So Bez took a breath, he focused on the sound of the woman who'd just opened the bathroom door, and he withheld information from Dante for the first time since they'd started working together.

"I just do, sir."

# Chapter Thirteen

Sariel stayed under the pulsing heat of the shower for as long as she dared, letting the hot water wash away the filth that covered her body. If only there were a way to wash away the bad memories as well. For two months, she'd been kept captive in that hell of a houseboat, half of the time alone and terrified. Hell, if she were completely honest, she'd spent every damned second terrified. And though she wanted to believe that part of her life was over, she doubted. Those men were still out there, coming for her and Angelita. The only thing standing in the way being her mate.

Her mate... _ugh._

The shower may have left her feeling refreshed, but it did little to soothe her splintered ego. Her mate was not good with words, that much was blatantly obvious. When he said she wasn't part of the plan, Sariel thought her heart would break. The gut-wrenching fear of him regretting bringing her with him had consumed her. But as the water swirling down the drain went from black to gray to clear, so did those thoughts and insecurities. No matter how little they knew each other, they were now tied in a way most shifters dreamed about. She needed to pull up her big-girl panties, nonexistent as they were at the moment, and face down the beast so she could find out where she stood.

She was going to have to actually speak to her mate about more than just how to stay alive.

"It's just talking," Sariel whispered into the spray, letting the water drown her words. Stomach rolling at the thought of how badly this could go, she reluctantly turned off the taps. A chill set in fast, her body overheated from the shower, but she didn't move. Instead, she stood with her hands braced on the tile wall, not ready to leave the safety of the steamy bathroom.

Finally, Sariel huffed and dragged open the glass door. She couldn't hide forever. She dried off quickly and threw on the T-shirt she'd acquired in the Jeep, unable not to notice the little round hole sitting almost exactly at the top of her hip. A perfect circle, darkened around the edges. So very odd if only in its simplicity. She stuck her finger through the hole and wiggled it, contemplating why the man would keep a shirt with a hole in it. Sentimental reasons? He didn't seem much like the sentimental sort, but it was always a possibility. Some kind of memory tied to it? Good or bad, that might be a reason to keep it. Or was he simply someone who refused to give up on things, who saw the flaws as minor?

Sariel sighed. She was putting way too much thought into a simple T-shirt with a hole in it. She needed to quit stalling. After one more moment staring at the damned hole, she tossed her head back and looked at herself in the steamy mirror.

"Time to put your game face on." She took two deep breaths and squared her shoulders, readying herself to confront the man the fates deemed hers. She needed to know where she stood with him and if he even had any interest in being mated. Some men didn't. It was rare to be outright rejected, but the possibility existed. She'd just have to ask him...be blunt and direct. And she would. As soon as she could breathe properly while thinking about him rejecting her.

Ready to escape the steamy bathroom but still afraid to talk to her mate, Sariel opened the door and followed Angelita's scent to the bedroom on the right. She found the red wolf on one of the twin-size beds, curled into a furry ball. The girl slept soundly with no sign of tears on the fur of her muzzle. Finally. Sariel wished she could join her on the other fluffy bed, snuggle under real blankets and curl up around an actual pillow, but she needed to settle things first. Before she lost her nerve.

Sariel closed her eyes and sent a wish up to the fates before heading down the hallway toward the living room. Every step seemed to take less time than the last as her blood rushed in a roar through her ears. She wanted the hall to never end, yet it seemed to disappear right in front of her eyes.

She turned the corner to find the man who had been owning her thoughts since she first saw him, sitting by the fireplace. His big body leaned forward in his chair as he stared at the exact spot where she'd appeared. As if waiting for her, knowing she was coming for him. His eyes were dark, his face hard, causing her to falter in her step. He was not a man to be messed with on a good day, and if his expression was any indication, this was not a good day.

His eyes dropped to the hem of the T-shirt she wore. His shirt. Her fingers followed his gaze, worrying the edges of the fabric. Suddenly walking around without anything underneath the dark cotton seemed like a mistake. Wearing no underwear or pants left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. At risk. And yet something in his expression made her body tingle, made the arousal his nearness incited flare up bright and powerful.

Heart racing, breaths coming faster, skin flushed hot, she stood and waited to see which way this would go. Accepted or refused, mated or rejected. Claimed or scared away. And she was scared, at least a little bit. The danger in his body language made her both anxious and turned on in equal measure, teasing and tormenting her in cruel and lovely ways. Not something she'd ever experienced before.

Her fingers ran along the soft fabric as she wished the shirt were both shorter and longer at the same time. He tracked the movement like a hunter eyeing its prey. Like a starving man being teased with a juicy steak. She wondered what it would be like to be his steak.

His eyes slid along the planes of her body, over her breasts and neck, his head angling a bit to one side as he watched her. Investigated her. Learned every curve and dip.

"You have freckles," he whispered, his voice rough but soft.

"Oh..." Sariel froze, her plans for demanding he talk to her blown up by the simple fact that he _had_ talked to her, especially about the freckles that covered most of her body. "I...yeah. Always have."

He sat silent for a moment, his eyes dropping to her hips as she took two small steps closer. God, she could practically feel him touching her with that predatory gaze. So dark...so intense. A physical force in just a look.

"I'm Bez." He slid his teeth over his bottom lip, his canines long and sharp. Deadly weapons against soft, pink flesh. Dangerous and sexy all at once. Just like everything else about him.

Sariel shivered and took another step. "Bez?"

He froze her with a glance, his eyes swirling from ice to silver as he clenched his jaw. "It's short...for Beelzebub. The name my pack assigned me."

Sariel nodded as she inched closer, her footsteps light and slow. "But people call you Bez."

"Mostly."

Sariel stopped when her knees brushed his, her entire body burning hot at his nearness. "May I call you Bez?"

He tipped his head back and let his knees fall open as he watched her. Examined her. Absorbed her. "If that pleases you."

Sariel inched between his legs, growing more confident with every word he uttered. Every lengthy look. His fingers brushed against her thigh, his skin warm and rough as it whispered against hers. She shivered and moved closer. His eyes dropped to her hip, a frown pulling at his mouth. He reached out, using one finger to trace around the edge of the hole at her hip, his brow furrowed.

"I..." Bez said, shaking his head. "I wish I had better."

Sariel smiled, placing her hand over his, stilling his finger as she pressed his hand flat against her hip. "It's fine. I don't need much."

"What you need and what you deserve are two different things, Freckles."

Sariel liked that statement, liked the way the warmth in his voice caressed her. She liked that a lot. She slowly dropped her weight onto his thigh, demanding more contact, teasing the beast. And he was a beast; a strong and fierce wolf shifter fully in tune with his inner animal. More soldier than man, more wolf than anything, he was one tightly wound ball of instinct and aggression.

She wanted to unravel him.

"I like the way Bez feels on my lips," she whispered. He blinked but otherwise didn't respond. He also didn't try to pull her any closer or touch her in any way. Not making a move, but not pushing her away either. A challenge of sorts, one she was more than ready for. "My name's Sariel."

Bez nodded once, his eyes staying on hers. "We didn't know about you."

She sighed, a pang in her heart reminding her of the home she'd been stolen from. "My pack is small and stuck in their ways. They're not part of the NALB, and I doubt they would've reported anything even if they were."

Sariel grew quiet, worrying her lip as she perched on his leg. She began to feel quite silly for sitting on him, but his presence brought her peace. His touch soothed her wolf in a way she needed desperately after so long locked up in that hell of a houseboat. Still, when it became obvious Bez wasn't going to speak on his own, she took a deep breath.

"Can we...talk?" she whispered, her voice almost weak.

Bez grunted and looked away, his jaw clenched and the muscles in his neck stiff. Sariel's heart sank. That certainly seemed to answer her question on how he felt about being mated. She moved to stand up, but Bez's hand tightened on her hip, holding her in place.

"Don't," he said. "Don't stop...touching."

Sariel peered into his eyes. The cold blue gave nothing away. "You want me to touch you?"

Bez paused then nodded. "I just... I don't normally do this."

"What? Touching?" Sariel gave him a soft smile when he nodded. "You can, you know. Touch me. I don't mind."

He growled and turned away again, but then his fingertips brushed her thigh. A tiny brush of his flesh that meant more than a full hug would have. Sariel waited, barely breathing, as she watched his hand creep along her leg, fingers twitching along the way.

"I don't know how to do this," he whispered, keeping his eyes on his fingers.

"Yes, you do." Sariel brought her hand to his chest, laying her palm over his pounding heart. "I think you know how to touch just fine."

"Not that." He raised his eyes to hers, his expression practically stabbing her in the heart. "This."

Sariel waited for more, but it never came. Still, she felt his need for her touch, felt how much he wanted her to stay close. There was a deep craving within him for physical contact, though he seemed too scared or stunted to express it. But she saw. She knew. She understood him in a way that took her by surprise.

"Do you mean being mated?" she asked. "Because I don't know how to do that either, though I'm not opposed to the idea."

Bez's eyes went wide. Sariel wondered if that was the first time he'd been so obviously caught off guard.

She leaned forward once more, keeping her voice soft as she asked, "Do you want to be mated?"

Bez nodded, all slow and intentional. Sariel bit her lip and took a deep breath, bold under his touch.

"Do you want to be mated to me?"

He growled, low and deep. A dark sound that made her lick her lips and shift closer on his leg. Sexy...he was just so damn sexy.

"Freckles." Bez pushed her hair over her shoulder, his fingers gentle and slow. "I've been alone a long time. I don't know how to do all the talking stuff."

"You seem to be doing fine."

He shook his head and looked away, though his hand crept up along her waist to cup her hip, pulling her closer. Breathing hard, Sariel leaned in, dropping her head until she brushed her nose against his.

"Maybe we don't need to talk." She eyed his mouth, wanting to kiss him, needing to feel his lips on hers. His eyes stayed open, watching her. His body tense and hard. Sariel leaned closer, pressing her breasts against his chest, breathing in his breath when he spoke. "Maybe we can just...feel."

Bez's growl turned rougher, deeper, vibrating against her skin in a way that was both warning and enticement.

"My kind," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "We're not...gentle."

That voice, so low and sultry as he cautioned her against him. It made her blood positively boil inside of her. Made her crave him—his touch, his taste, his smell. She wanted him. Hell, she burned for him.

"I don't need gentle." Sariel nodded her consent, a slow and sensual move that made her nose run along his. He brought a hand to her face, cupped her cheek, and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Soft...maddeningly soft.

"Beautiful," he whispered just as his lips brushed hers. Sariel closed her eyes and let herself experience this first kiss, let herself truly feel him. The way his lips pursed into hers, how his fingers tightened almost unconsciously on her hip, the brush of his knuckles as he dropped his hand from her face to grip the back of her neck. The way he held her. Owning her. Possessing her with a single kiss.

She moaned and opened her mouth, desperate to taste him. Needing him inside of her in some way. Bez answered her invitation, sliding his tongue into her mouth, groaning his satisfaction. Sariel lived in that kiss, let his tongue dominate hers. She gave without taking until he withdrew. And then she bit his bottom lip...hard.

With a growl, Bez pulled her closer, directing her legs on either side of his. Sariel slid her hips forward, straddling him, wishing to everything that the fabric between them could magically disappear. Wanting his flesh on hers, to feel every inch of him.

Rocking her hips, sliding along the length of where he was obviously hard for her, she kissed and nipped at his lips. He did the same, his touch demanding. His kiss near painful. His growls turned deeper, the sound vibrating through his body and into hers. She liked it, liked the way his rough hands and strong lips made her feel: safe, cared for, protected. Desired.

He gripped her hips harder, pressing her down on his lap. He was so hard. So thick and hot even through the shorts he wore. Sariel wrapped her arms around his neck and rolled her hips over the length of him, but a roar from outside stopped her midstroke. She gasped and jerked back, clinging to Bez as her heart nearly exploded. He jumped to his feet, hooking an arm around her waist and bringing her with him, lifting her with ease. He snarled as he turned toward the noise, twisting his body to keep Sariel behind him, his growl fierce and vicious.

"It's a gator," she said, rubbing his muscled arm even as her own heart thundered in her chest. "The sound scared me, but it's nothing. They make noises like that all the time."

Bez's hand on Sariel's hip moved down, his grip lessening. "They scare you."

Sariel tightened her hold on his shirt and rested her forehead against his back. His words weren't a question, they were a statement. An observation. A truth.

"Yes."

"They won't hurt you." Bez released her hip and turned, his eyes nearly glowing in the low light. "I won't let them."

Sariel's heart stuttered and her face heated under his stare. God, the man made her crazy...in good and bad ways.

"I know."

Bez ran a hand over his face and sighed, his shoulders stiff. "You should get some rest."

Sariel nodded. "Yeah...okay."

She turned, but Bez's hand gripped her elbow, stopping her. He pulled her back against his body, wrapping one arm around her hips and holding her tight.

"I need to listen for them," he whispered before leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. "I can't concentrate with you so close, and I can't let them surprise me."

Sariel nodded, curling into the warmth of his body, sighing when his arm tightened and pulled her even closer. "You think they're coming tonight?"

"I know they are. It's just a matter of when."

"And you have people coming to help?"

"Yeah. But they're a ways out."

"So we wait to see who gets here first."

Bez looked down at her, his face serious, his eyes quicksilver light. "I won't let them touch you. Either of you."

Sariel ran her hand along his jaw and smiled. "I know."

He leaned down, rubbing his nose against hers before trailing his lips over her cheek and jaw to her neck. Breathing her in. Scenting her.

"You took me by surprise," he whispered, his breath tickling her neck. "I'm not a man who's surprised often." He placed a single, small kiss to her neck then let her go. "You should head back with Angelita and rest while you can."

Sariel sighed and pulled out of his arms reluctantly. She hated walking away from him, but she was tired from a long night of running, escaping, worrying, and dealing with her mate. Even just a nap would be helpful. Besides, danger was on its way and she'd need to be extra awake and aware when they arrived. Especially if she was going to be any help for Bez.

When Sariel reached the hallway, she paused and turned, watching as Bez settled into his chair once more. "What about you?"

Bez cocked his head. "What about me?"

"Don't you need to rest?"

"No, I'm fine. I'd rather see you get some sleep."

Sariel nodded and moved down the hall, tossing back over her shoulder, "You're better at this being mated stuff than you realize, Bez."

He smiled, the first time she'd seen his lips turn up like that, and it warmed her heart to no end. "Good to know, Freckles."

# Chapter Fourteen

Soft hips and thighs teased Bez as he watched his mate disappear down the hall. Just the thought of those dark eyes looking up at him, those sultry lips all swollen and wet from his kiss made him nearly insane with a possessive lust that surprised him. And the freckles...good goddamn. Like some kind of primal mating pattern stamped right into her skin. They called to him, made his fingers itch to touch her, stirred up something dirty deep inside of him. He hadn't known freckles could be so sexy.

His mate pulled feelings from him he'd never experienced; never even known he was capable of. For centuries, he'd lived with his pack of Dire Wolves, hunting beasts great and small, traveling where others asked him to go. In defense of the Omegas, the lost Dire Wolf females, he'd become a soldier for hire, sticking close to whoever had the most power and could enable him and his pack to protect the shewolves. He'd never broken rank, gone against orders, or failed at a mission. Hell, he'd never even paused to accept a challenge thrown his way, no matter how dangerous. He'd fought werewolves, almost died from a vampire attack, and killed off more shifters than he could count...all in the name of the mission.

But suddenly, after nothing more than a look from Sariel, he no longer knew what to do next. By not telling Dante about their connection, he was technically going rogue. And though his pack would probably understand his hesitancy, he wondered if his actions would be seen as a weakness.

For the first time in his life, he felt the need to ease up on his Dire Wolf responsibilities. After this mission, he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue hunting down criminals with the rest of his pack or if he wanted to take a break. Spend some time getting to know his mate. Maybe take her home with him and show her how much he'd prepared for this day. Because he had prepared, even if he hadn't meant to. He had a den ready and waiting for them. He had trinkets and treasures from all over the world. Things he'd hoarded without knowing exactly why. His property was situated in the perfect spot to keep her safe, to protect her.

And protect her he would. At all costs.

The sudden silence outside caught his attention, the odd break in background noise slamming into Bez's thoughts, pulling him from dreaming about his new mate. He stretched his senses, letting his wolf push forward. His ears rose and pricked, his mouth lengthened—half man, half wolf, he gave himself over to hearing and scent. Miles out yet, the sound of paws meeting earth whispered through the night. A pack was coming...moving closer. A quick glance at the clock had Bez slamming back to his human form and uttering a curse as he exploded to his feet. It was too early for his team to have reached the area, not to mention his guys would never have made enough noise to be heard from so far away. No, those heavy pawfalls had to be the kidnappers coming to take back the Omegas. To take Bez's mate from him. The very thought had him moving faster and fighting back a warning roar. Those fuckers wouldn't get near his Sariel. His mission was to save the Omega, and though he knew Blaze had meant Angelita, his mate was an Omega just the same. He would do whatever it took to keep them both safe.

Never had a mission been so personal; never had getting it right been so vital.

With little more than a flick of his wrist, he pulled his phone from his pocket and speed-dialed Levi. When his brother answered, the music blasting in the background told Bez he was already on the road.

"Status."

Bez glanced out a window before checking the lock. "Situation FUBAR. Get your ass here."

"Roger. Currently a little less than three hours out."

Bez growled, moving from window to window and verifying the house was ready. "Not good enough. I've got less than an hour."

"Fuck," Levi hissed. The engine noise grew in the background, the shifter obviously pushing the engine harder. "You're too far out for any of us to meet that time, man."

"I know." Bez took a deep breath as he checked the last door, dread heavy in his gut. "Just haul ass."

"Hauling. The cavalry will get there."

Bez hung up without another word, knowing there was nothing left to say. The cavalry would arrive eventually, but not nearly soon enough. He was on his own for this attack.

Rushing toward the back of the house, Bez zeroed in on the steady heartbeats of the women. They slept apart, one in each of the two bedrooms at the rear of the house, which worked to his advantage. Access to the attic safe room was in the hallway just outside their doors. He had a good forty minutes or so before the shifters made it to the property if their trajectory and pace stayed the same, but he didn't want to take any chances. The sooner he got both women to safety, the better.

Bez slipped into the bedroom where Sariel slept, his attention divided between his mate and the men running closer outside. The woman was curled up on one side of the huge bed, buried under fluffy white blankets. Calm, resting, and quiet. And by the gods, was that a welcoming sight. His mate could have gone into the other bedroom, the one where Angelita slept. There were two beds in there. But no, she'd chosen the larger room—the one with a single, huge bed. A bed made for a couple.

A bed made for sex.

Focus. He had to fucking focus. The pack hadn't changed speed; they were still far enough away for him to get the women into the safe room and work out a plan so long as he stopped thinking with his dick.

Bez hurried to Sariel's bed. He needed her awake but calm. This wasn't the time to scare her like he had at the houseboat. He leaned low over his mate's body, barely inches away, placing a knee on the edge of the bed to move closer. He peeled back the blankets over her, whimpering at the sight of her nearly naked body. Damn, she smelled good, all sweet and sexy and his. Still wearing his T-shirt, which had been hiked up to reveal the delicious curves of her ass, she slept on her side facing the door. Bez wanted to run a finger down her cheek or wake her with soft kisses to her neck, but the threat loomed large in the woods, and time was not his friend.

Silently apologizing for his actions, he leaned close to Sariel and clamped his hand over her mouth. He'd expected her to react with fear. To jump, to scream, to fight back against some unknown attacker. Instead, she growled soft and purrlike as she grabbed him by the arms and pulled him down on top of her. Bez fell easily, partly because of his unbalanced stance and partly because it was his mate pulling him into bed with her. Of course, he'd fall.

Without opening her eyes, Sariel wrapped her legs around Bez's hips and melted against him. Bez tried to resist, to pull away, but she was so warm, so soft, and so his. He tucked his face into her neck, scenting her, unable to hold back his growl. Her heat was a delicious tease, her body soft beneath his. Pliant. Willing and wanting at the same time. And he wanted, too. He wanted so fucking bad.

He rocked his hips against hers, slipping into the cradle of her thighs. Desperate to get closer. He held himself back, though, not wanting to push her too far. He didn't even think she'd woken up all the way yet; he couldn't just rut her through the mattress. But then her eyes opened, heavy-lidded and sleepy but open. And she gave him the most brilliant, sexy smile.

Aw, fuck.

Sariel slid her hands around his neck, holding him tightly as she sighed and shifted her hips back and forth. Bez tried to resist, to keep himself from losing his focus and giving in to the mating haze, but Sariel was a warrior against his control. She yanked him down on top of her, fighting to bring him closer. She wiggled and stretched until she'd pushed his shorts down and off his legs using nothing but her feet. Talented little mate. When she'd freed him from the fabric that was apparently in her way, she wrapped her legs around his waist again. Aligning them with every lift and buck of her hips. Driving him fucking mad with desire. She battled hard, his little mate, and even against his best judgment, he surrendered to her.

Without a single word, he pressed into the swollen heat of her pussy and wrapped his arms around her. Pulling her tightly and caging her against his body. She growled and rocked until she had him seated deep inside her, until she groaned and shivered with every single thrust. Bodies moving together, no space between them, hushed grunts and groans and gasps the only break in the silence around them. The sounds destroyed him, had his body rushing for a climax he desperately wanted to hold off on. Just a few minutes, even.

Bez closed his eyes, losing all sense of time and place as Sariel took him in, rocking her hips with his and squeezing his cock in the best possible way. So hot, so soft. And so very, very naked underneath that T-shirt. He wanted to rip it from her body, reveal every inch of her to him. The fabric had ridden up to her chest, the bottom curves of her breasts teasing him whenever he pulled back enough to look down. He wanted to see her dark nipples again, to fulfill the deep desire to touch and taste and bite the sight of them had caused when they were in the swamp. But those tantalizing circles were still hidden, still covered by his gray T-shirt, and as hard as it was to resist tearing it off her, the waiting for the shirt to rise on its own was the best tease he'd ever experienced.

"Bez," Sariel whispered, bucking harder and clutching at the back of his neck. Bez took that as a signal she was close, collapsing on her with all his weight and thrusting harder. Plunging deep and holding there as he rocked his hips against hers. As he pressed against her sweet pussy, dying to pay her clit a little extra attention.

Her lips found the curve where his neck met his shoulder, following the kiss with a gentle bite. Bez shivered at the feel of her teeth against him and fought back a possessive growl. Damn it, they weren't alone and had a pack of shifters closing in on them, but he couldn't stop. The instinct to mate and mark and claim was nearly impossible to resist. He needed to pull away, to stop fucking her and to keep his dick to himself, but good God, it felt so amazing. So right. Hips rocking, flexing his back to hit the exact spots that would make Sariel shiver and sigh, he bit his lip and counted down. Thirty more seconds. He could give her that long, and then he'd have to yank himself free of the urge to mate and get her moving toward the attic. He just had to make her come in thirty seconds.

Bez slipped his hand between them, brushing his knuckle against the soft flesh of her pussy. Wet and hot and so much his. She sighed and shivered again, spreading her legs for him. Rushing him. He wanted to take his time, to explore more, but that would have to wait for next time. For the thousands of next times he'd make sure they'd have together.

He worked his finger against her clit, circling and pressing harder on each pass as she gasped and arched into his touch. Hands clutching at him, breasts pressed tightly against his chest, his name on her lips... She was close. She was also undeniably sexy. And his. All his.

"Mine." His growl came as a surprise, but it had the best effect on Sariel. She bit her lip to hold back her cry and arched her back, finally letting go. Her pussy tightened around him, so hard and strong, he felt every pulse. The pressure caused him to come with a jolt, the two of them joined in their pleasure. Still rocking, still rubbing that little clit, still trying to give her as much as he could.

When she finally relaxed, finally sagged into the plush pillows, she opened those beautiful eyes of hers again, and she smiled.

"I wasn't expecting that."

Bez sighed, sliding out of her as he leaned to kiss the tip of her nose. "Neither was I. You're quite demanding in your sleep."

She giggled softly, rubbing her hands up and down his back. He wanted to fall onto the mattress next to her, to snuggle close and wrap his body around hers in protection. But he couldn't. Danger was coming.

"We didn't kiss," she whispered, words that pulled Bez up short.

"What?"

"Well, we had...sex. But we didn't kiss."

Bez blinked, his brow pulling tight. How could he explain his life to her in the few seconds he had?

"I've never kissed a partner during sex."

It was Sariel's turn to blink as she stared. "You've never kissed...what?"

He leaned down, running his nose along the length of hers as he whispered, "I've never kissed another person at all, Sariel. You were my first kiss tonight."

"Oh." Her whispered exclamation was followed by her soft, pink tongue licking her bottom lip. Just the tip, a tiny swipe, but Bez became obsessed with it. Wanted to feel the softness against his own. Everything about her seemed soft. He liked that, liked the way she felt in his hands.

Sariel nudged her chin upward, parting her lips just a bit, and closed her eyes. Bez kept his open, kept watching her as he dropped a little lower with each breath. His first kiss had been with this woman, but it hadn't been planned. This felt more important, somehow. More vital to the two of them as a mated pair. Such a ridiculous thing, kissing, and yet he was completely on edge.

Sariel was the brave one of the two, closing the distance between them and pressing her lips to his. He growled low and deep, shivering as her tongue swiped across his lip. Fuck, this was so much hotter than he'd ever thought. Naked, lying in a bed beside a woman, and kissing her. But it was more than just some woman. This was his mate, and he knew nothing could compare to the feelings she pulled from him. A simple brush of his mate's lips, and he was hard again. Ready for more, needing to bury himself in her. Fully ensconced in the mating haze.

But then she opened her mouth a bit more, and her tongue entered his. Tangled with his own. And he fucking died. Or at least, his focus did. He grabbed her against him, rolling them to the side as he kissed her with as much force as he dared. She responded to his efforts, the two sliding tongues together in a way that was more like fucking than Bez had ever imagined. In and out, hot and wet. So much pressure and desire, so much lust. So much better than even their first kiss.

Sariel had just pulled back to nip his bottom lip, had just blessed him with the feeling of her teeth on his flesh and made his cock practically weep in anticipation, when Bez heard the crashing of the wolves through the woods on two sides of the property. The sound was enough to pull him free of the imperative to claim his mate, to drag him out of his lust-filled haze and set him back on task. Cursing, he bit her lip and gave her a last soft kiss. They were out of time.

Bez sat up with a sigh, his heart breaking at the look of disappointment in her eyes. "You have to go."

Sariel gasped, clinging to the sheet and pulling it up against her chest, looking slightly heartbroken. Shit, again with the messing up. Bez's heart stuttered at the pained expression on her face, and he quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her closer.

"No, Freckles." Bez shook his head. "You have to go up to the safe room. They're here."

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, she practically exploded off the bed. Her feet barely making a sound, she hurried to Angelita's room without a look back, waking the wolf with soft whispers. Bez yanked on his shorts and followed her into the hall, listening hard to the noises the pack outside was making.

Once the red wolf awoke, Sariel looked back his way, her eyes wide and filled with a fear that made his soul ache. "Are you sure it's not your team?"

Bez watched her, trying to keep his words smooth and steady so as not to scare either of the two Omegas under his protection. "No, not yet. Soon, but it's time to get you both into the safe room."

Sariel nodded, something Bez took to mean she understood. Which was good because, by the way the sounds outside were growing closer, they only had a handful of minutes until the first wolf would be at their door.

Bez hurried Sariel and Angelita into the hallway, sliding open the attic access panel and pulling the ladder down with ease.

"Up we go." Bez grabbed Angelita and brought her to his chest before giving Sariel a look he hoped said more than his words could in that moment. Words like _I'm sorry, I want to get to know you, you're my mate, and I need you safe._ All things he didn't have time for, so he said what he could with his eyes as he whispered, "After you."

Bez followed his mate up the ladder, staying close to her. Close enough for his arms to rub against her ass with every move as he hurried her up the steps while carrying Angelita. Her very naked ass, he noticed repeatedly. He needed to find her something to wear, but there wasn't enough time. Not with the enemy so close.

Once Bez's feet hit the attic floor, he led the girls to the safe room door. After he entered the code and released the latch, he swung open the heavy door and set Angelita down just over the threshold.

"It's steel; they can't get through," he whispered, purposely keeping his voice low as the wolves outside came closer. Sariel stared up at him, all breathless and flushed. Kissable. Fuckable. But not then. "Get in and lock the door. I'll be back when this is over."

"What about you?" Sariel asked, fear showing in her gaze. She grabbed his wrist, her fingers soft and hot against his skin. That touch set him on fire, making him growl his want for her. Bez couldn't hold back. He picked her up and crashed his lips to hers, kissing her with all the need and desire he had for her. She met his kiss with the same fervor, not backing down, owning him as much as he was trying to own her.

His hands gripped her ass, pulling her tight, squeezing her closer. Keeping his body against his for one glorious moment. But the enemy was too close, and Bez needed to get his mind back in the fight. After one final lip bite that made Sariel sigh, he pulled back, knowing his time was up as the first footfall fell on the grass of the lawn.

"Gotta go."

Sariel stepped into the safe room, her chin up and her eyes dry. His brave little mate putting on a show for him and Angelita. "Be careful."

"Stay put." Bez pushed the door closed, resting his hands against the cool steel for a moment longer than necessary before whispering, "Be safe."

As soon as Bez heard the click of the lock engaging, he stalked across the attic and slid down the ladder. With a single push, he slid the access panel back into place, making the entrance almost invisible. He would have liked to have hidden their scent trail as well, but it was too late. The wolves were on the property, though there was still no scent or sound of the werewolf. That worried him more than if the beast had been on the porch or breaking through the windows. Its absence told him the jackasses had a plan and a strategy. Too bad Bez did as well, one that would decimate theirs. Lights off, house silent, Bez smiled and gave himself over to his inner wolf.

It was time to fight for the Omegas...time to kill for his mate's safety.

# Chapter Fifteen

"Be careful," Sariel said, her heart in her throat. Fear wrapped around her like a vise, strangling her voice. She gave herself one more moment to look over her mate—her strong, capable, warrior mate—before she pulled the heavy door closed. The lock dropped into place with a clank, the sound ominous in the hollow space. She leaned her forehead against the steel panel and closed her eyes.

"Be safe," Bez said from behind the door, and then nothing. Silence.

A whine from behind her made Sariel open her eyes, fighting back the burn of unshed tears. Forcing the worry from her heart, she turned toward the little wolf.

"C'mon, Angelita. Let's—" Sariel looked around the sparsely appointed room, belatedly noticing there was nothing for the two of them to do but sit on the floor and wait. A level of hell where minutes passed like hours with no distractions. "Well...shit."

Angelita whined and bumped into her legs, offering comfort in her own way. Sariel sighed and dropped her hand to Angelita's neck to tug on the fur.

"He'll be okay. We'll all be okay."

The words tasted false on her lips. Would Bez be able to win a battle with the men who'd taken them? One-on-one, she believed Bez could do anything. Even two-on-one. But no man or wolf could take down a pack on their own, and if the men acted like a pack, Bez was in trouble. If the pack brought a werewolf, Bez was dead.

The silence reigned for several minutes, tension high, human and wolf breathing fast and hard as they waited for any sensory input that would tell them the fight had begun. Several minutes as Sariel's stomach churned and her heart raced, worry over her mate's safety taking over her thoughts.

The fight itself didn't start with a growl or a bang, not with anything loud or crashing. No, this fight started with a catcall from outside playing live over some kind of speaker system.

"Here, pretty girl. Come out and play with us." The words exploded into the room, shattering the silence. The voice came from a guard both women feared. His eyes were too wandering, his smile too lascivious. Sariel had hated him from the moment he'd looked her up and down when she'd been dropped at their houseboat camp. She hated him even more knowing his presence put Angelita and her mate in danger.

"Come on, girl," another wolf said from the opposite side of the house. "Your pack didn't hide when we came for them. They may not have been any good at fighting, but at least they died with some kind of honor instead of hiding away. Well, except your parents, of course."

Sariel grabbed Angelita as the shewolf growled, wrapping her arms around her fur-covered ribs and pulling her into a full-body hug. "They're trying to bait you so you react emotionally and make a mistake. Don't let them win."

Angelita growled and snapped, wiggling to break free. Sariel gripped her harder, wrapping her legs around Angelita's hips to hold her still.

"They all deserve to die for what they did to your pack. But you have to let Bez handle it, okay? He'll make sure they get what's coming to them."

Finally, Angelita huffed and held still, no longer fighting. Sariel ran her hands over the girl's fur, trying to keep her calm as more taunts came from outside. The men from the camp had arrived, surrounding the house, which meant Bez had to fight off three at once. Sariel wasn't sure even her strong, soldier mate was good enough for those odds. Especially if the werewolf showed up.

"What was it they called you, little girl?" a man called. Sariel stiffened as Angelita's head spun, staring hard at the door leading out of the room.

Sariel leaned down and hissed, "Don't—"

"Angelita, right? The pack's little angel come to save them all."

Angelita leaped from Sariel's hold and stormed to the door, her growl deep and threatening. Sariel landed against the metal wall, her head hitting hard. Stars exploded before her eyes. She rolled, shaking off the sick feeling in her stomach and gripping the back of her head. Shit, that smarted.

She crawled to her knees as the little wolf scratched at the door. "Angelita, no! Don't let them win."

"Guess you couldn't save them, after all," the man yelled with a sarcastic chuckle. "Especially not your own brother."

Angelita slammed into the steel door, jumping up on her hind legs and clawing at the handle until the lock disengaged. The little wolf pushed open the door and raced out into the attic like her tail was on fire. Sariel hurried to her feet, weaving as her head spun but still putting one foot in front of the other. Quickly.

Before the younger wolf could do much more than jump at the window in the dormer, Sariel caught up with her. She wrapped her arms around the wolf from behind and brought her face to her ear.

"They want you to come out there upset. We make mistakes when we're hurting, and they'll take advantage of those. Don't let them win with words, hon. Wait...watch. Let Bez do his thing."

Angelita fought to be free, clawing Sariel's arms and legs as she whipped her head back and forth to bite. Sariel held on, having battled young wolf shifters for far too many years not to know how to keep from being bitten.

"Soon, Angelita. Soon. Let's get back inside the safe room, though. Okay? Otherwise, Bez's going to be distracted by us, and that's the last thing he needs. He has to fight them. He has to win against them."

Angelita stilled, her growl turning to a whine. Until the catcalling started again.

"C'mon, Angelita. Come out here and let me see if your blood tastes as sweet as your mother's."

Oh, hell. There really was no coming back from that, and Sariel knew it. Knew it, and prepared for the firestorm.

Angelita twisted, biting down on Sariel's bare arm. The pain radiated to her fingers, forcing Sariel to release the wolf. Angelita headed straight for the small window overlooking the side of the cabin, looking ready to break right through the glass to get outside. Sariel grabbed her again, the two struggling, one holding on for dear life, and one dying to be released. Sariel stood as she got a solid hold on the wolf, Angelita a snapping, snarling mess in her arms. The man outside must have seen them through the dirty glass because he turned their way and grinned.

"There you are, young one. C'mon out and play with me. I promise not to make your punishment take as long as it did when I skinned your dad. You can come too, dud. We've got a hungry beast waiting for you."

Angelita snarled at the laughing man, but not for long. A high-pitched whistle interrupted her. Screaming through the night, the sound made both women stop and stare. A silver flash, a splash of red, and the man's head fell to the ground a second before his body collapsed.

Sariel dropped Angelita and collapsed against the window frame, fingers pressed to the cool glass.

"Bez."

# Chapter Sixteen

Bez slipped through the shadows, staying deep inside the house to avoid the windows. A loudmouth shouted from outside, but Bez knew that idiot was just a ruse. A distraction meant to attract Angelita's attention with bullshit about her pack to make her react emotionally. They'd probably planned to separate the girl from him and Sariel and whisk her away. But Bez had her locked up, and he wouldn't let her go outside if she left the safe room. Plus he'd never been one to fall for attempts at distraction. If one man outside was yelling and causing a ruckus, somewhere in the silence the real threat was coming for Angelita and his mate.

His _mate._

He could still smell Sariel on him and taste her on his lips, could still feel her warm body against his. Thoughts of her distracted him but only in the best way. The woman was a firecracker, gorgeous and stunning while simultaneously dangerous if in the wrong hands. Bez hoped his were the right hands, because once he got rid of the wolves prowling around the house outside and dealt with the werewolf he knew would be coming along, he was going to light her up and see what happened. That was his motivation. Not orders, not Blaze's approval, or Dire Wolf pride. He wanted his mate in his den and in his bed. Wanted her screaming his name as he teased her endlessly. The fuckers outside were just an obstacle in his way.

Shaking off the thoughts of his mate, Bez edged his way into the kitchen and toward the window. He flattened his body to the wall as he peered outside, keeping his wolf at the forefront of his mind, letting his animal senses take over. He smelled the interloper before his eyes found him, caught the shadow of the dark wolf standing at the edge of the lawn. His ears picked up the heavy breathing of the animal, the raspiness that came from running too hard too far for an out of shape shifter. Weak...the animal was weak and tired, an easy kill.

Bez felt his canines descend, the hard enamel pushing through his gums as his ears lengthened and lifted. He needed to stay in his human form to fight, but his wolf could not be caged. The two had worked together for centuries this way, fighting their best when they shared the body. Half human, half animal...all lethal.

The wolf outside rocked on his paws, ready and waiting for whatever signals his leader had taught him. Obviously following orders, he stared up at the house, almost salivating for his shot at Angelita and Sariel. Bez nearly growled, his lips curling back over his teeth in a show of dominance even though the weaker wolf couldn't see him. The fucker wouldn't get a chance to complete his mission.

Slow and silent, Bez climbed onto the counter and curved his body around the edge of the window. He kept his breathing steady as he inched the window up, giving himself a mere few inches of space to work. Not that he needed more than that. There was a reason he'd chosen the weapons he had.

Grabbing a chakram from his pocket, Bez angled his body back as he slid in front of the window. The metal ring glinted in the moonlight, edges sharper than a razor. Light and deadly in the right hands, and his were definitely the right hands. The wolf outside never even looked toward Bez's window, too intent on his quarry. His focus working in Bez's favor.

Bez took a deep breath and jackknifed up, fully in front of the window. The wolf's eyes darted to the glass, but it was too late for him. With a swing of his arm, Bez sent the chakram flying through the small gap between the sash and the frame, metal disk hitting the target in the throat a split second later. The wolf never made a sound, barely had time enough to realize Bez was even in the window. He simply fell to his side and bled all over the grass.

Two down at the houseboats, one down on the grass, two to go. And one less threat to his mate.

The soldier in Bez mentally kicked himself for that thought even as he crawled off the countertop and moved into the hall. His job, his mission, was to get the Omega out, to keep her safe, and to question the men who took her. Nothing in Blaze's orders mentioned Sariel as none of the intel had said she was in the camp, but she would've been seen as collateral damage in the effort to save the primary target. Sariel's death would have been accepted as necessary had he left her behind, but he couldn't have left her. Blaze and Dante would probably dismiss that factor. But to change the overall goal of the mission, to go from capture to kill, could be seen as something akin to mutiny.

And Bez didn't give a fuck.

At that moment, when the wolves were literally at the door and it was time to protect the Omega, his thoughts were on Sariel. On his mate. On his need to protect _her_ , keep _her_ safe, get _her_ to his den and use his body and his skills to make sure no one came near. He'd never felt the strain of a mission more, the fear of failing so strongly. The werewolf would show up, angry and hungry and ready for blood. Female shifter blood. His mate's blood. A thought that made his own run cold.

It was time to fight.

The shifter on the other side of the house yelled something about the taste of Angelita's mother's blood, changing Bez's direction and plan. He'd been too far inside of his head considering the threat they were all under. The loud shifter may have been weak, his plan simple, but he could easily get the girls killed with his big mouth. Words had a way of crawling under skin and breaking down logic faster than anything else did. Angelita was too young not to care, and that put her in danger of falling for the bullshit.

Slipping across the tile floor, Bez crept to the back door. He let his senses flare, let them stretch and reach to cover the property. Still no sign of the werewolf, but he could sense two other wolves. Bez snuck out the back door and around the side of the house, clinging to the shadows of the overhang, hurrying toward the shifter with the big mouth. The one who thought a war was fought with words and yelling. Bez knew wars were fought many different ways, but he liked to battle silently, in the shadows and on the fringes. And he loved to surprise his enemy.

Pulling another chakram from his pocket, Bez blew out a breath and focused on the man by the front porch. His eyes morphed to their wolflike slant, his pupils opening to let in more light. The night pulled back, the shadows replaced with brightness. Bez's wolf peered across the lawn, sizing up the threat, marking with deadly precision every soft spot of the other animal. Bez let his wolf inspect the target before he took a deep breath and shifted his human consciousness back to the forefront.

"There you are, young one," the man yelled. Bez's focus disappeared, slipping away into the night air. The girls had left the safe room. The danger of this fight had just ratcheted up ten notches in the blink of an eye. His wolf slammed forward, throwing his senses out harder, searching for every heartbeat, every sound as he prepared to fight in the only way he knew how. Violent and dirty.

"C'mon out and play with me. I promise not to make your punishment take as long as it did when I skinned your dad. You can come too, dud. We've got a hungry beast waiting for you."

Bez's fear for his mate turned to dread as the wind shifted. The stench of death and rot wafted from the lake itself, nearly buried under the calmer, cooler scent of the water. Not at all where Bez would have expected an enemy to come from. And that's when his stomach sank. Bez had misjudged the plan. The enemy shifters weren't spread out around the house to collect the women after they reacted to the loudmouth. They were directing the werewolf to its prey, into the house. To get around Bez's wolf senses, the werewolf had swum to the property and was now mere yards away. Practically knocking on the damned door. And his mate was no longer secured in the safe room.

Unable to delay for a moment longer, Bez shifted his weight and pulled his arm back. The chakram slipped out of his fingers as his arm rushed forward, spinning so fast it whistled through the air. Not quite the silent way he liked to operate, but Bez had to admit the single second of confusion on the man's face before the flying disc took off his head was satisfying in ways nothing else could be.

The moment the chakram sliced through flesh, Bez took off at a full run toward the front door.

Four down. One to go, if Harkens had been right about only five guards. Plus a werewolf hunting what had quickly become the most important thing in Bez's world.

# Chapter Seventeen

Silence reigned as Sariel stood in the shadows with her hand over her mouth. That man—that man who'd taken her, yanked her away from her pack, and held her against her will—lay dead on the ground down below. She wanted to feel sadness, to feel sickened at such a blatant act of aggression by Bez. She knew she should be disgusted by her mate's actions, but she wasn't.

Bez wasn't the evil one in the situation, her captors were.

That disgusting man had helped to shatter her life, had completely decimated Angelita's family, and had tormented them both. In the end, his death at the hands of Bez could be seen as justice earned, so that's how Sariel chose to see it. At least, his death was quick. If the act had been left up to her, she might have made him suffer.

Angelita whined and wiggled in between her legs, forcing Sariel's thoughts away from the dead man on the grass. She followed as the red wolf crept closer to the window. Angelita hopped up on her rear legs, putting her front paws on the windowsill. The little wolf pressed her black nose to the glass, inspecting the scene below. For long, quiet moments, the wolf just stared at the body in the grass. Her wolf form quiet and still, barely breathing. But then she turned and gave Sariel a wide-eyed look of confusion.

Sariel blew out a breath and quickly got her words in order. Even in wolf form, Angelita looked so innocent, so young standing in the moonlight, staring up at her. But she wouldn't lie to the girl. Not after all they'd gone through together.

"He's dead." Sariel stroked Angelita's head and rubbed behind her ears. "We don't have to worry about him anymore. Bez took care of it."

Angelita huffed and looked back outside, brave in the face of such a horrific scene. Sariel felt so much maternal love for the young Omega, seeing a lot of what she wanted for herself in the girl. Angelita may have been small and young, but deep down, she was a warrior. And Sariel was going to make sure she was going to live to fight for a very, very long time.

Steps quiet but sure, Sariel moved to the window on the opposite side of the room. At first, the grassy lawn appeared quiet and empty, clear of attackers, but then she saw it. A dark lump lying on the lawn, rump brushing the tall grasses along the edge of the driveway. Two men dead, both at the hands of her mate.

Sariel almost felt guilty as a rush of pride washed over her. Bez was proving his strength and skill, even if doing so ended the life of other shifters. Pack justice could be harsh and cruel, but the punishment of death was a rarity, at least where she'd lived. Bez killing those men didn't thrill her, but she couldn't fault him for it. He was acting as a strong Alpha would—doing anything necessary to keep his pack safe. And at least on this horrible night, she and Angelita were his pack.

The longer the quiet of the night loomed dark and heavy, the more Sariel's nerves frayed. She kept waiting for a larger attack, for the sounds of fighting to reach her ears, but she heard nothing. Just the sounds of the night insects and animals going about their lives around them. Where were the other men from the camp? Bez had said there'd been three outside, which meant the fight was now one-on-one, and that was only if they hadn't brought the werewolf with them. As big and strong as Bez obviously was, she didn't like the thought of his being attacked by such a beast.

Needing to make sure her mate was okay, Sariel crept along the floor toward the access panel. She knew it was wrong, this decision, but she couldn't help herself. Like the clueless teenager in a campy horror movie, she moved toward the danger instead of away from it. If she could lift the ladder, she could crack the panel open, maybe look downstairs. The attic didn't allow a lot of scent input from the house, the ceiling under her feet too insulated or something. She needed a quick look and sniff, and then she'd take Angelita back into the safe room and lock the door.

Sariel had taken two steps when the sound of breaking glass shattered the silence. Soft, almost melodic, it splintered through the air, leaving behind a weighted anxiety in the quiet night. Her heart raced, the beat pounding in her ears as she waited for something more. For another sign of what was happening below their attic hiding spot.

For seconds that lasted far too long, Sariel stood on one foot, the other outstretched and ready to step, her toes pointed as they brushed the floor. Yet she didn't move, too afraid of setting the night off-balance with a noise. With a single squeak or bump.

Willing herself not to make a noise, Sariel shifted forward, placing her weight on the ball of her foot. Before she could drop her heel, a roar of fury and rage sounded that nearly shook the house to the foundation. Sariel screamed and jumped back, rushing toward Angelita as the crashes and growls of a true battle broke out downstairs. Walls shook, floors vibrated, and the grunts and snarls of shifters fighting to the death made her race across the wood floor. It wasn't the first time Sariel had heard the noise that came with a shifter fight, but it was the first time she'd had to worry about the safety of her mate while listening.

Eyeing the safe room door, she grabbed Angelita under the ribs and lifted her into her arms. To keep Bez focused, she'd make sure Angelita was in that safe room, no matter what. Bez's mission was to save the Omega, and damn it if she'd let her mate fail.

As the sounds grew closer, Sariel hoisted a fighting Angelita into the metal box. The little wolf twisted and turned, doing her best to escape. But Sariel wouldn't be deterred. She wrestled the canine form across the threshold and carefully tossed her toward the back of the room. Hurrying, she reached for the handle and yanked on the door, but before she could close it, the noises stopped. Not petered out, not moved away, just stopped, leaving her standing in a weighted silence once again. Her heavy breathing the only noise in the room.

Sariel's heart raced as her eyes locked on that attic access panel. As she waited for something from below. Some sign that her mate was still down there, still fighting.

Still alive.

# Chapter Eighteen

The stench of death and rot increased as Bez turned the corner of the house. Pausing in the shadows of the porch, he pulled his wolf forward to give him a taste of the air. The animal inside shivered and growled, his hackles rising. That scent meant danger to the duo, it meant pain. The last time the two had hunted a werewolf without backup, they'd come out of the fight victorious...but not by much. They couldn't fail this time. There was something more important—more vital to Bez and his wolf—in that house. Something more important than the need to follow orders.

Bez stalked through the shadows, searching for signs of the werewolf. The beast had to have come in from the lake; it only made sense with the way his scent hid beneath by the smell of water. Creeping down the length of the house, Bez pushed his senses to the max. His head throbbed with the input—every sound of the forest, every lap of the lake—but he didn't let up. He pushed harder, maxing out his immense capabilities until he finally pinpointed something. A raspy intake of breath. Fifty yards down shore, hidden in the high grasses that surrounded most of the lake.

Bez focused on that spot and brought out more of his wolf. Ears lifting, muzzle extending, he crept around the house to the far side of the garage before dropping to the ground and crawling toward the shelter of the grass. This kill had to come fast and as a surprise. He could _not_ let that werewolf anywhere near the girls.

It was time to hunt the hunter.

He slithered through the grass as silent as a snake. This moment, this hunt, was what he'd trained for all those years; this was what he knew. Get in, eliminate the target, get out. Something he'd done a thousand times, if not more. The fact that the target was a werewolf added a bit of risk but not enough to slow him down. He needed to eliminate the threat.

The werewolf crouched on the lakeshore. More humanoid than canine, but not really either in form, the creature stared at the house. His face was drawn and stretched, revealing a canine snout in the center of what should have been a human face. His body covered in a bristly fur, his human skin peeking through in patches and along joints. Legs bent and twisted somewhere between dog and not, hands tipped in dark, thick claws. A true monster.

As Bez slipped closer, keeping one hundred percent of his focus on the creature, the dread making his stomach churn grew. From where he lay and watched, it appeared as if the kidnappers had trained the beast somehow. The werewolf sat still, tense, and ready, every bit of his energy focused on the house. Bez could feel the anticipation pouring off the animal, the excitement. It certainly seemed to be waiting for some kind of order or direction. But werewolves weren't known for their trainability or intelligence once the animal took over the human. Unlike shifters, who had a constant stream of consciousness with their animal side, werewolves were human for so many days out of the month and beast the rest. There was no crossover, the human side sometimes even going back to work each day not knowing they'd turned into such a creature at night. But whatever this team had done, they'd done it well. The werewolf waited, drooling in what Bez assumed was hunger, twitching with his need for female flesh. Too bad he wouldn't be getting a taste.

Without a sound, Bez leaped out of the grass and onto the werewolf's back. The beast gave a surprised growl and jumped to its feet, swinging its arms in an attempt to dislodge the attacker. Bez held tight to his neck, his claw-tipped fingers puncturing the werewolf's thick flesh. Knees tight on his hips, hands gripping his throat, Bez kept a slow increase on his pressure, digging his claws deeper, forcing more and more blood from the beast's throat. Werewolves weren't like shifters, who died when their blood stopped flowing. No, werewolves could only be killed by a beheading. Without another chakram at his disposal, though, Bez had to improvise. So he gripped and squeezed and slowly cut his way through the thick, heavy flesh of the werewolf's neck. A gruesome way to kill, but effective.

The beast fought hard, dropping and rolling as it grunted, but Bez could not be deterred. If the werewolf lived, his mate could end up as the beast's target. And Bez wouldn't allow that. Not for a moment...not a single chance. The werewolf had to die, and Bez would accomplish that task by any means necessary.

The werewolf stumbled up the grass toward the house, obviously attempting to growl or yell, but Bez's hands constricted his airway too much for him to do much more than grunt. As the beast's air supply ran out and he weakened from the blood loss, the werewolf fell to his knees, taking Bez with him. Bez should have been ready, should have known the animal would give him one last fight, but he was too focused on increasing his grip and fighting his way through the thick, corded flesh with his claws.

As a last-ditch effort to unseat Bez, the werewolf flipped onto his back. He slammed his head into Bez's, making the shifter see stars. One second, that's all it took. The force of the blow caused Bez to release his grip just enough for the beast to let loose a throaty roar that actually shook the ground beneath Bez's back. There was no way any other shifters who'd come to take Angelita back hadn't heard the sound. Hell, there was probably no way the humans hadn't heard it if they were anywhere in the vicinity. Bez's cover had been blown; no more fighting in silence.

Snarling, refusing to surrender or risk his focus, Bez jumped up and regained his grip on the animal's throat. The two crashed through the grasses to the lawn, one bucking and swinging, the other clinging to the beast for all he was worth. It took longer than Bez would have liked, but finally, the werewolf fell to his knees once more. This time, Bez kept his hold strong but monitored the werewolf's actions carefully, watching for any signs of fight left in the beast. Lucky for him, there was none. Bez gripped tighter, sliding to the side as the werewolf fell onto its back, breathless and dazed, too tired to fight much more.

Bez used the position of the beast to his advantage, kneeling on its chest and placing one booted foot under its chin. Claws out and deep in the werewolf's flesh, Bez curled his fingers, grabbing hold of every bit of flesh in the werewolf's throat that he could, and yanked while kicking the werewolf's chin. The beast went still, his head rolling slightly to one side, no longer attached to its body. Bez gave himself a single moment, just long enough to take three greedy, deep pulls of air, before he stumbled toward the house.

His stomach sank and his legs pushed harder as he approached. The back door had been left open, the glass shattered. A sure sign the enemy had gotten inside. And he had no idea if his mate was back in the safe room or not.

Four down, werewolf defeated, one to go. He hoped.

# Chapter Nineteen

Seconds stretched into minutes as Sariel stood in the open safe room door, the silence bearing down on her like a weight. Not a sound, not a sense; the entire house sat still and empty. The level of quiet disconcerted her, made her practically taste it. Not a single noise from nature broke the oppressive night, no bug or animal or wind rattling trees. The world had stopped, and with it so had Sariel's heart. In theory.

Angelita brushed against Sariel's leg, her fur a familiar touch that still made Sariel shudder. The two inched forward, eyes trained on the access panel to the floor below. A scent crept through the heavy night air, one of rot, of swamp. Putrid and wet, the scent grew stronger, creeping into their silent little world. Angelita growled low and soft, barely above a whisper. Sariel glanced down at the wolf, silencing her with a look before taking another step forward.

Two more steps across the rough wood floor, and Sariel paused. Listening. Opening her senses to what disturbed the still night air. Something scratched at the ceiling below them, a soft, rough sound that kick-started Sariel's heart and threw it into overdrive.

"Bez?" she whispered, taking one more slow step. A few more inches gained. And she took a breath.

The access panel exploded into the attic, shards of wood and pieces of the drywall flying through the air. Sariel screamed as Angelita barked, both falling backward to the floor. A man from the camp, one of their kidnappers, jumped through the hole in the floor, landing on the balls of his feet only a few yards in front of Sariel.

"I've been looking for you," he growled, his eyes locked on Angelita's wolf form.

"Go," Sariel yelled, shoving the animal toward the safe room as she hurried to her feet. She planted herself between Angelita and the angry shifter, feet wide, hands up and ready to fight. "You can keep right on looking because you don't get to take her again."

"Oh, really?" he asked, snorting a laugh. "How exactly do you intend to stop me? I've taken care of your little guard dog downstairs."

Sariel's heart shattered, bursting into flames that sent her reeling, leaving nothing behind but scarred walls and a sooty mess on her soul. Her mate...he had to be talking about her mate. Her Bez.

But as the man took a step in her direction, Sariel pushed aside the fire burning her alive from the inside out. She'd deal with the loss of her mate later. If Bez was dead, he died battling to save Angelita. Those were his orders, and Sariel wouldn't let him fail. With a power she'd never drawn on before buzzing under her skin, she gave herself over to her wolf, letting the beast within have control even as she stayed in her human form.

"You may have gotten past him, but you won't get through me. Not tonight." Sariel snarled and ducked low, ready to battle. But just before she leaped, a muscled arm reached through the hole in the floor and gripped the man's ankle, yanking him backward and forcing him to fall through the floor to the lower level. Sariel froze, not sure she'd seen what she thought she had. Not knowing if she could believe the sight of that hand she recognized. Big and thick, that hand looked just like one that had grabbed her hip, had slid up her thigh, had made her wet with its blunt fingers and rough skin.

She _knew_ that hand.

At the sound of a vicious snarl from below, Sariel rushed to the edge of the hole in the floor, the scene below making her breath catch. Bez, half-naked and bloodied, had the kidnapper in a kind of headlock, one the man was desperately trying to escape. His flailing and jerking were hindered by blood on the wood floor, though. His own, she hoped.

As the kidnapper continued to struggle, Sariel leaned out farther, her hand catching her weight on the opposite side of the hole. The buzz inside grew stronger, more vibrant, becoming a physical link she felt to her mate. She'd heard the stories of the Omega strength, of the power they brought to their packs, but she'd never felt it for herself. That buzz, that power, was undoubtedly coming from her wolf, and she felt the energy flow from her to her mate. Backing up Bez, even though she didn't know how it was happening.

Bez growled and yanked, eyes meeting hers for a single, tense moment, before finally stabilizing his footing and jerking his arm around the other man's neck. His clawlike fingers cut through the flesh, tips stained red with blood. A fast death for a bad man, brought about by a skilled warrior. Strong, efficient, and effective.

Bez dropped the man's body to the floor and looked up, chest heaving as he met Sariel's gaze. God, he looked so wild, so completely animal even in his human form. A true wolf in a man's body. The two shared a moment filled with fire and passion, with desire and need. A moment of shared power and relief. Of connection.

"You good?" Bez asked, his voice rough like sandpaper against her ears. Sariel nodded, unable to speak. Too damned relieved to worry about silly things like words.

Bez held out a hand, keeping his eyes on hers. "Get down here, Freckles."

Sariel shivered at the command in his voice. Without pause, she dropped through the ceiling, landing with a soft thud as Bez guided her. Before he could speak, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. She poured every emotion she felt into that kiss—fear, anxiety, relief, and even lust. As much as Sariel should have been scared by all the death around her, she couldn't be. Seeing her mate so strong and capable, as a victorious protector, was one of the biggest turn-ons she'd ever experienced. She wanted to make sure he knew that.

Bez returned her kiss with equal fervor, running his hands over her hips to grasp her ass and yanking her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him tight to her body, rubbing against where he was quickly becoming hard for her. She wished for nothing to be in between them. For flesh on flesh, hard on soft, knowing the slightest shift on either's part would take them from third base to a home run. Craved it. Needed to know that if she just angled her hips like—

A soft bark from above broke the spell woven between the two. Bez jerked and spun Sariel against the wall, caging her in with his body. Protecting her as always. Sariel growled, her tongue licking her bottom lip to savor her mate's taste. She stared at Bez's mouth, desperate for more of his touch, needing him in ways that defied the reality around them. But at least he seemed to feel the same. He growled low, his hands squeezing her ass harder, pulling her closer. Offering her one final tease before he glanced at Angelita overhead.

"Still a wolf, huh?" Bez ran his nose along Sariel's cheek, a deep chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Let's get you down."

Bez carefully unwound Sariel's legs from his hips. As her feet touched the floor, she ran her nose along Bez's breastbone and clutched at his arms. Trembling. Never wanting to let go.

"You made it safe for her," Sariel whispered. She pulled back, staring up at him with pride.

Bez's ice-blue eyes met hers, filled with a thousand untold emotions. "For you. I made it safe for you."

# Chapter Twenty

The roar of incoming vehicles met Bez's ears barely an hour after the fight ended. He looked up from his spot on the front porch, gripping Sariel tighter. They'd each gotten dressed in the sweat pants and T-shirts Bez had found in one of the closets inside the house before making their way to the porch, neither wanting to go back inside with the body and the bloodstained floors. Bez sat with his back against the wall and Sariel curled in his lap, her head resting on his chest. Angelita lay beside them with her head on his knee and her paw on Sariel's hand. The three cuddled together in what reminded Bez of a puppy pile, all touching, all warm and safe.

And he had to admit, he liked it.

Angelita heard the approaching fleet a few moments after Bez, her ears pricking. She whined as the sound grew louder, the air practically vibrating with the rumble of large combustion engines.

"We're good, little one," Bez said, smoothing his hand over her head. "It's my pack."

Sariel didn't respond, just pressed herself against Bez's chest and held tight to his arms. Something he found to his liking. Bez's Dire brothers turned onto the driveway mere moments later. Two rode in on motorcycles, the third bringing up the rear in a behemoth of a Suburban. The truck's windows shook with the percussive sound of the hard rock the driver was blasting, making Bez's ears hurt. Still, he'd never been so grateful to see them.

"Stay here," he whispered to Sariel as he glanced at Angelita. "You, too."

With one final stroke of his mate's arm, Bez lifted her and placed her next to Angelita, letting them form their own pile while he stood up and strode off the porch. Chin up, chest out, ready to defend his actions, Bez approached his brethren. Mammon was the first off his bike.

"What's up, Bez? We hunting tonight?"

"Negative." Bez gave the man a big, back-slapping hug. "All targets have been eliminated."

Levi hopped out of the truck, meeting Bez for another rough greeting. "I thought the mission was retrieval, not elimination."

"It was." Bez waited for Thaus to stroll over from his bike. Bigger than the other Dires, the man exuded a sense of malice that most people found off-putting. It had never bothered Bez in the past, but knowing his mate was close by made him reevaluate. Thaus would probably terrify Sariel. He would definitely scare the little wolf. Something Bez found objectionable.

Bez looked each man in the eye as they formed a small circle. "The mission changed when I found the camp. There were two Omegas, not one."

"Standard collateral issue during retrieval," Thaus murmured, his disapproval clear. "Acquire the target as ordered and reconvene at a later time to strategize for the second retrieval."

Bez shook his head. "I couldn't leave her behind. She's an Omega."

"We would have gone back for her," Thaus replied. "Taking her when you were unprepared endangered the life of the target. You should have left the extra until we could assemble a proper team."

"She's not just an extra. I couldn't leave her because she's—" Bez paused, the words harder to say than he could have guessed "—she's my mate."

The three Dires didn't respond, didn't move or even blink as they stared at him. Bez didn't flinch under their scrutiny. He'd been ready for them to doubt him—their history definitely indicated they would never find mates. Hell, they probably thought he'd lost his mind.

"Not possible," Thaus grunted.

"Truth." Bez growled in warning, letting his wolf come to the surface. He knew they'd have to see the truth if his wolf claimed her; he just hoped they would believe the man first. "I found my mate, and there was no fucking way I was leaving her in that camp with those men. The bastards were going to use her as werewolf bait. There was no time. I made the call based on the situation I was in, and I'd do it again."

Levi shook his head. "Blaze is going to—"

"Blaze will just have to accept my actions."

Levi's eyes went wide, his surprise evident. Bez had never gone against Blaze. Not once in all their years working for him. For him to be willing to risk Blaze's ire certainly seemed to indicate the gravity of the situation in which Bez found himself.

"Show me," Thaus said, still not sounding as if he even believed in the possibility of a Dire mating.

Bez nodded and turned back toward the porch. His wolf paced in his mind, angry that his brothers didn't believe him, but Bez wasn't ready to give up the hope that they would. They'd lived far too long mateless to be willing to accept this new bond without reservation. Bez understood that. Didn't make it any easier, though, to be doubted by his pack.

Bez rushed up the stairs to a very curious Sariel. "Come."

He held out his hand, furrowing his brow when anger flashed in her eyes. Angelita growled softly, a warning sound. One he understood and took to heart.

"Please, Freckles. Come with me?"

Sariel paused, looking past him to where the other Dires stood before placing her little hand in his. That moment, the amount of trust she gave him, was enough to soften the fury boiling up inside. Enough to shove all the worry to the back of his mind. They'd deal with his pack together.

Bez led her to where his brothers stood, keeping her tucked into his side. She trembled as she walked, though she never tried to stop him, allowing him to lead her where he wanted to go. Another sign of trust he appreciated. Angelita trailed after them, refusing to be left behind.

"Brothers, this is Omega Sariel. She's my mate." Bez stood with Sariel by his side, staring each man down in turn. This was his mate, his fated match, and no one would refuse him his right to call her that so long as she allowed it.

Silence stretched between the groups, tense and dark. Bez's wolf surged forward, ready for a fight. Bez knew the guys would sense the shift, feel the power of his wolf. Hell, they'd see it in the swirl of his blue eyes. His wolf would stake their claim for them if he had to; he'd also fight one of his own brothers for his mate. No one would be keeping Sariel and him apart.

Finally, after far longer than Bez was happy to wait, Thaus huffed.

"One of our own, come home to us at last." He leaned down to Sariel's height and gave her his best interpretation of a grin. "Blessings to you, Omega, and welcome to our Dire Wolf pack."

"Hey," Levi called, giving Sariel a fake pout. "Don't we get a chance to meet our little sister? Or are you going to hide behind the big lug here forever?"

Bez laughed and urged Sariel to take a step in front of him, keeping his arms wrapped around her shoulders. "Sariel, this is Mammon, Levi, and Thaus. Three of my Dire Wolf brothers."

"Uh...hi." Sariel waved, clinging to Bez's arm with her other hand. He hated that the guys frightened her, but he knew she'd learn to trust them all. She was pack now, and Dires would fight to the death for their pack.

As Bez cuddled Sariel closer, wanting to offer his body as protection from the other Dires she saw as a bit of a threat, Thaus smirked.

"Blaze is still going to have your pelt."

# Chapter Twenty-One

"I have to commend you, Bez," Dante said as he looked over the little cabin by the lake. "You really pulled this one off, even with the added challenges the job presented."

Bez pursed his lips. "Challenges, sir?"

"Well, meeting your mate can be rather distracting. I should know; I've been through it twice." He glanced over his shoulder to where Blaze and Moira stood. The curvy shewolf leaned against the side of the helicopter that would be taking her and her mates back to the airport with Angelita. Blaze, on the other hand, paced and yelled into his phone, obviously upset. Most likely about Bez killing off the kidnappers. Something Bez was still waiting to hear about from the leader of the NALB.

"I have no idea how you managed to keep the Omega safe when your mate was threatened," Dante said, drawing Bez's attention back to him. "I don't think I could have done it."

Before Bez could answer, Sariel herself walked up, sliding her arm around Bez's waist. "He was very calm and focused. There was no way he could have failed."

"Of course not. Bez never fails." Dante smiled, turning to Bez's mate. "I'm quite happy to meet you, Omega Sariel. I have to admit, your story has taken me a bit by surprise. An Omega we knew nothing about and a Dire Wolf with a mate, who would have thought?"

"Not me, sir." Bez grinned as Sariel smacked him in the chest.

"She's got your number, Bez. I'd be careful with your words." Dante glanced between the two, grin firmly in place. "I'm thrilled he found you, Sariel. Bez here needs a good strong woman by his side."

Sariel grinned. "As do most men."

Bez rolled his eyes at Dante's laugh, and he hugged his mate closer to feel her giggle. "Are you heading right back to Chicago?"

"Yes, Moira and I want to update the Feral Breed specialists on this incident as soon as we can convene the team. We'll need them to help us find this north camp." He raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "Especially with our most successful hunter out for a few weeks."

"Out?" Sariel asked, looking up at Bez with wide eyes. He glared at Dante, having not had the time to tell her the news yet.

"Bez has a mate now," Dante said with a smile. "I think he'd like to take a little time to settle in to your relationship. Blaze and I did the same after Moira joined our triad. It made the transition for her much easier. Besides, our boy here deserves a break."

"Our boy deserves a disciplinary hearing," Blaze said, storming over. Anger poured off him, from the stiff set of his shoulders to the hard glare on his face.

"Blaze," Dante started, but his mate wouldn't let him finish. Blaze stalked right up to Bez, nearly bumping into Sariel. Bez growled and pulled his mate to the side, moving her out of the way as much as possible while keeping a hand on her arm.

"You were to retrieve the kidnappers, not eliminate them."

Bez growled, refusing to back down. "They were a threat to two Omegas."

"They were the key to finding the others, and you slaughtered them without permission. There had to have been another way."

Levi appeared almost out of nowhere, sliding into a spot on Bez's flank. "Are you doubting the word of a Dire Wolf, sir?"

Blaze took a step back from the pair, growling. "None of you has ever given me reason to before today."

Before Bez could react, Thaus stepped between him and Bez, flanked by Mammon. A wall of Dire muscle blocking Bez from the person they saw as a threat, tucking Sariel behind them as well. Something Bez noted with appreciation.

"Our allegiance—while graciously shared with you, Blaze—is primarily for our pack," Thaus said, glaring at the NALB president. "Sariel is an Omega, of the lineage of the Dires. She is from the blood of our pack and, therefore, under our protection. Dire Beelzebub was acting with the full support of all the Dire Wolves in retrieving and protecting her."

Blaze and Thaus stared one another down, neither willing to lose the challenge the other threw. Bez stood at his brother's shoulder, ready to jump in and defend his actions again. For all the years he'd worked with Blaze, he'd never seen the man so wound up, so angry. But Bez refused to apologize—his mate had been in danger. A fact that justified his actions...period.

Finally, Blaze huffed, glancing from one Dire shifter to the next. "All the Omegas are in danger."

"And we'll do our absolute best to protect them," Thaus said, moving to stand beside Sariel. "Every last one of them."

"You'd better." Blaze shook his head, his anger deflating a bit. "I apologize, Sariel. I'm concerned for your Omega sisters."

"As am I, President Blasius." Sariel stood her ground, head up, staring hard at the powerful shifter. Bez practically burned with pride for his mate, whose bravery continued to impress him.

Blaze smiled, the tension in the air drifting away as he shook his head. "Please, call me Blaze."

Angelita padded up cautiously, staying close to Sariel as she regarded the new shifters on the property. Bez and his three Dire Wolf brothers had been joined by eight members from the nearest Feral Breed denhouse, all ready to protect the young Omega. The reactions from the men ranged from relief to disappointment when they realized Bez had already exterminated the targets plus a werewolf. His own pack more disappointed than the others. Especially Levi, who had a slight werewolf obsession.

"Bez, great job on this mission," Blaze said. Bez knew that was about as much of an apology as he'd get, not that the words mattered. As long as his mate and their bond were respected, he'd continue fighting to keep the Omegas safe. All of the Omegas.

"Thank you, sir."

"And congratulations on your mating. Please, take some time to settle in to your new life. We need more Dire Wolves in the world." Blaze smiled and glanced back at the chopper, but Bez focused on Sariel. Her face had fallen, her eyes dropping to the red wolf leaning into her leg. She couldn't have children, which meant no new Dires. Bez was fine with that, was happy to share his life with only her, but by the look in her eyes, Sariel might want more. And the more at this point was Angelita.

"More Dires?" Levi asked, chuckling. "Shit, that's all we need. Tiny terrors running all over the place and terrorizing all the supernaturals."

Thaus snorted a laugh. "That'd only be yours, Levi."

"Mine? Hell no. Never going to happen." Levi shook his head, firm in his denial.

Blaze laughed. "Now you've done it."

Levi's brow drew down in confusion. "Done what?"

"Tempted the fates. Expect to be mated next, young Leviathan." Blaze grinned and raised his eyebrows almost in a challenge. "I look forward to seeing the type of woman strong enough to tame the likes of you."

Levi huffed, looking irritated. "With all due respect, sir—you're crazy. Bez here is the first Dire to find his mate in centuries. I don't see anyone of the rest of us pairing up anytime soon."

Blaze just grinned. "We shall see, boy. We shall see."

With a single lift of Blaze's arm, the blades on the helicopter began to spin, indicating it was time for them to leave.

Dante smiled down at the little wolf who was still wrapped around Sariel's leg. "Well, young one. Looks like it's our time to go."

Angelita whined and crept back, almost hiding behind Bez's mate. Bez growled on instinct, the fear in his charge something he didn't like. He almost wanted to tell the men no, that Angelita would be coming with him and Sariel. But, not for the first time, his mate beat him to it.

Sariel dropped to her knees and pulled the wolf into her arms. "You call me when they're done pumping you for information, ya hear? I'll come running."

" _We'll_ come running." Bez offered the wolf a pat on the head. He brought his gaze up to a furious-looking Blaze. "Angelita is part of our pack now, part of the Dire legend. Once the brass is finished, she'll be coming home to live with Sariel and me."

"Bez," Dante said, a warning in his voice.

"She's old enough to decide for herself." Sariel stood tall, her voice forceful even in the face of such powerful shifters. A perfect example of the strength and bravery of the Omegas. "What do you say, Angelita? Want us to come get you from Chicago in a few weeks?"

The young wolf barked and weaved herself between the legs of Bez and Sariel, making her preference known.

Bez raised an eyebrow at Blaze. "Decision's made. Sariel and I will see you in three weeks to pick up Angelita."

"I can bring her back," Levi said, dropping down to wrap an arm around the wolf. Staking his claim for his pack in every motion. "I'm heading up to Chicago to meet with Shadow from the Feral Breed. I'll bring her to you when I'm finished."

"Even better." Bez patted Angelita on the head. "You're safe with my brother. He'll look out for you, okay? And you keep trying to come back to your human side while you're there. It's hard but worth it."

The little wolf huffed but headed for the helicopter, her tail tucked low and her head down. Bez felt an odd pang in his heart watching Angelita walk off, knowing how much the girl meant to his mate...and to him. The little wolf walked slowly across the grass, obviously scared. But she'd be back soon, and she and Sariel would become his responsibility. One he took on with a sense of honor and pride.

The Dire Wolves stood together, watching the shifters head for the chopper. Mammon, Levi, and Thaus... His brothers, his pack. They formed a subtle V, keeping Sariel between them, guarding the new shewolf added to their ranks. And though Bez had no idea how her presence would go over with the entire team, he knew they would all protect her. She was an Omega, one of their own, their bonds hidden for centuries, the women practically lost in plain sight.

And so was Angelita.

Without thought to what he was doing, Bez stepped forward and whistled. Blaze, Dante, and Angelita all turned as they reached the chopper, joining Moira in looking over the Dire pack.

"Your pack deserves justice, Angelita. And we're going to get that for you." Bez glanced at his teammates, knowing they'd all follow his lead if he set the mandate. "We'll track them all. Every shifter or werewolf who took part in the murder of your kin. We'll track them, and we'll catch them. And when we do, we'll eliminate the threat they pose. You will never be harmed again. On our honor."

The other Dire men repeated the vow, heads up and voices strong. Bez knew the challenge he'd laid down, knew the difficulties and danger that would come from it, but he wouldn't let the girl down. He'd never fail an Omega again, and his team wouldn't fail him.

_Don't miss the next book in The Devil's Dires Series.Savage Sanctuary—featuring playboy Levi and the fated mate he never saw coming—is available now!_

* * *

_Ellis Leigh is the_ USA Today _bestselling author of strong, sexy paranormal romance. She lives outside Chicago, Illinois, where she works a lot, reads a lot, and spends too much time worrying about what color pen to use._

# Digging the Wolf

### Steffanie Holmes

## Chapter One

# Anna

"Anna, can you hand me my other trowel, please? I just dropped mine down that crevice."

Beside Professor Frances Doyle, Ruth – the senior graduate assistant – sniggered as she shot in a deer skull with the theodolite, the surveying instrument we used to create a three-dimensional plotted map of all artefacts and features. Two years ago it would've been Ruth doing all the fetching on site, but now she was senior to me, and I was the one scampering around after our scatterbrained professor like a faithful dog.

Sighing loudly – for my sigh would never be heard over the driving rain outside the cave – I picked myself out from underneath the rock shelf I was using as shelter and splashed over to the mouth. This was the third trowel Frances had lost down that bloody crack in as many days, and every time I'd braved the elements to replace it, the weather was worse.

We kept all the site tools in a lockable chest just outside the cave mouth, which meant I had to lie on my stomach and slither through a tiny hole while muddy water trickled down my bra, and then stand up in the howling wind and driving rain, all so my dopey lecturer could lose her tools again.

This was not what I had imagined archaeology would be like.

When I'd started my degree at Loamshire University, I had visions of swanning around exotic locations in a white tank top and Bermuda shorts, getting a glorious tan while I uncovered glittering jewels and treasures of long-lost civilisations. I've wanted so badly to get away from Crookshollow my entire life. As a teen, I'd worked my arse off for top marks and had got accepted to Cambridge University, but after my father died, I had to give up my place to stay close to look after my mother. Giving up my spot at one of the best universities in the world to live at home had been one of the hardest things I'd ever done, but I'd consoled myself by remembering that at least I'd get to travel to far-flung locales as part of my degree to dig up the remains of the past. My dreams absolutely _did not_ include spending four of the coldest weeks of my life stuck in the middle of Crookshollow Forest with Frances Doyle, the mad professor of neolithic cave art.

And the worst thing was, I only had myself to blame. All the third-year archaeology students were required to undertake a four-week field trip on a site of their choice throughout the world. The university had relationships with several ongoing excavations, so we had our choice of locales... Greece, Italy, Egypt, Ecuador, Australia... It was the highlight of my entire degree.

I put in my application for a classical villa site in Sicily, and was informed I'd got the spot. But that was before Becky Masters – the stupidest girl in our entire class, the girl with the perfect blonde hair and perfect nose and perfect tinkling laugh whose passing grades came solely from the fact she was shagging the classical pottery professor – got hit by a bus.

She didn't die, but her perfect little nose had to be reconstructed, and her arm had been broken in three places. Poor Becky, everyone said. Stuck in hospital with a broken arm and a mushed-up nose. Poor Becky, who missed the cut-off date for applications and was stuck at a dig in Crookshollow Forest. Poor Becky who really, _really_ wanted more than anything in the world to go to Sicily with Professor Hicks to study classical pottery _in situ_... wasn't there a student who would consider swapping her place with Becky so she could continue the work that inspired her?

That was the spiel Professor Hicks gave me when he called me into his office and suggested I be the one to swap places with Becky. "You're such a good student, Anna," he said. "I'm sure you will excel wherever you are placed. You would be doing a great kindness to a fellow student, and I would definitely look upon this kindly when it comes to making your recommendation for postgraduate study."

Because I was such a pushover, and I liked Professor Hicks and wanted to please him, and I didn't want to be the cruel person who said "fuck off" to a girl who'd just been hit by a bus, I agreed. So Becky took my spot on the Sicily dig, and instead of relaxing in the sun beside a Minoan palace with my friend Katie, or excavating pharaonic treasures in the Valley of the Kings with Sinead, I got stuck in a soggy English cave twenty miles from home during the coldest month of the year.

Fuming silently at my miserable situation, I lifted the lid on our toolbox. My hand closed around one of the many trowels we had on hand. One of the first lessons I learned on the site was that an archaeologist would never get far without a spare trowel, or ten. I stuffed a second one in my back pocket, knowing Professor Doyle would inevitably need it before the day was out. The biting wind whipped across my face, the cold stinging my filthy skin.

I knelt down at the cave entrance and slid inside, feet first, pulling my body through the gap. Rain pounded against my face, dripping down the collar of my jacket, wet droplets crawling over my skin.

"Thanks," Frances said, barely even glancing at me as she grabbed the trowel and continued to scrape away at the dirt layers in her quadrant. In the quadrant opposite hers, Ruth and Max – the other graduate student – were laughing as they used the theodolite to map the edges of an area of blackened dirt that signified the position of a hearth. I seethed inwardly as I noticed Ruth's clothes were mostly dry and free of mud.

We were working in a raised area near the rear of the main cave complex, above the natural water level – so even through the entrance was like climbing through a waterfall, the actual site itself was mostly dry. The site was clearly a living floor for the neolithic inhabitants of the cave – functioning as a kitchen, judging by the cutting tools and piles of animal bones we'd uncovered. Foxes and birds and even bones of wolves from when wolves were still common in England had all been dragged back to the cave and eaten. The dietary habits of the neolithic cave dwellers were of particular interest to Max, who was completing his thesis on the subject. And Ruth was pleased with the charcoal samples and dried seeds we'd found inside the hearth, which she would be analysing for her doctoral thesis once we returned to the university. But so far, we hadn't uncovered any treasure. Glittering jewels, Greek vases and gold funerary masks were not abundant in neolithic caves, and that meant I couldn't find much to interest myself on the site.

I bent down to help Frances scrape off the remaining layer of soil on her quadrant. As I rolled the edge of my trowel over the surface, the corner of a small bone became visible. It was probably the rib bone from a fox, judging by the size and shape of it, but animal bones weren't exactly my area of expertise. I placed it in a small bag, wrote a number on it, and left it in place to be shot in with the theodolite, once the other two had finished with it in their quadrant.

While I worked, I watched Frances, her messy brown hair falling out of her ponytail and spilling over her shoulders, her face streaked with smudges of dirt where she had itched her nose or pushed her glasses back up over her eyes. She didn't even wear gloves when she dug, and her hands seemed to be permanently stained from the dark soil of the cave floor.

"What's the time?" she asked absentmindedly as she scraped down the edges of the quadrant, her wrinkled hands making expert work of the corners of the square.

"Three-thirty," I answered, pulling my phone out of my pocket and squinting at the screen. There wasn't any reception in this remote corner of the forest, so my expensive smartphone had become nothing but a heavy portable timepiece. Smears of mud ran across the screen from where I'd been checking it frantically throughout the day, looking forward to knock-off time so I could get back to the camp and out of my mud-soaked clothes.

"Oh! So late already! That new ranger was supposed to be here around three. He might already be outside."

"What happened to Daniel?" The county required a forest ranger to accompany us throughout the excavation, ostensibly to ensure our safety but really to make sure we didn't damage any fragile forest ecosystems. Ranger Daniel Davies had been living at camp with us for the last two weeks, although he didn't hang out much on site, preferring to spend his days inspecting the hiking trails and bridges in this area of the forest. He was a cheerful guy, and a lot of fun to have around. He was also the ranger who'd found Ben's body, so I felt a connection to him, even though he was scrawny and kind of ugly.

"He got a call the other day saying his flat had been broken into, so he's had to go back to Liverpool," Frances replied. "Can you go and meet the new ranger? He's probably wandering around, wondering where the cave entrance is."

"Either that or giving us red crosses for health-and-safety violations," Ruth piped up. I stiffened at the words. Most archaeologists had a blasé attitude towards health and safety on site, believing their "common sense" would prevent an accident. I was the opposite. I was the only one on the team wearing my hard hat in the caves. I wanted more safety procedures, more lectures, more equipment. But I had my reasons.

A flicker of panic crossed Frances's face. If a ranger deemed a site unsafe, they could shut it down. Daniel had been pretty chilled out, but who knew what this new ranger was like? "Find him and take him back to camp and show him the run of the place. Don't let him come down here until we've had a chance to... to clean things up. Tell him I'll be back around six to brief him. I want to finish shooting in these features."

Why couldn't she have told me all that before I'd crawled back down the hole again, saving me a trip? I sighed again. She wouldn't be Mad Frances if she had.

I crawled out of the cave again, just as a large four-wheel-drive truck pulled up along the narrow dirt road near the site. The truck parked up, and I jogged towards it, my feet slipping against the muddy ground. I knew I must look like a golem rising out of the mud, but forest rangers tended to be pretty grubby themselves, and it wasn't as if I were showing up for a date. I had my hard hat on, which was the only important thing.

"Hello," I began, as the door swung open. "I'm—"

My words died in my throat as the new ranger stepped out of the car. His tall, muscular body towered over mine, biceps bulging from the rolled up sleeves of his work shirt. He wore dark jeans and workboots with the laces loose, and looked like he'd just stepped off the set of a "Hottest Rangers" calendar shoot. On the edge of his sleeve, I caught the outline of a black and grey tattoo encircling his upper arm.

But most of all, it was his eyes that had me frozen. Deep, pools of dancing green flicked over my body, appraising me. He gave a curt nod, a stray dark brown curl falling over his eye. Another curled around his ears, the rest pulled back in a tight ponytail, like a Viking warrior preparing for battle. A line of stubble ran along his broad jaw, giving him a wild, untamed look.

He was beautiful, and here I was, wearing baggy dungarees, a shirt that had belonged to my father, and mud caked over every inch of my body.

"H-h-hello," I plastered a smile on my face and extended my hand to him. A strange electrical energy sizzled along my veins. The air around us suddenly became thick and heavy. My stomach flipped, and not from anything I ate. What was happening to me? The ranger was hot, but he wasn't Tom Hiddleston or anything. Why did I feel as nervous as a PhD candidate about to defend their thesis? "Welcome to the Crookshollow Caves. I'm Anna Sinclair, from the University of Loamshire. I'd be happy to show you around—"

He stared at my hand extended in front of him, an expression of cruel disdain crossing his handsome features. "No thanks," he said, looking me up and down, his scowl deepening. "I don't deal with students."

My face flushed with heat. I stared down at my boots, hoping he wouldn't notice. _It figures someone this hot is a complete prick._ "Dr. Doyle is down in the cave." I pointed to the cave entrance. "She won't leave until this evening, and it's pretty cramped quarters down there anyway. If you want to talk to her, you'll have to wait until—"

"I have a job to do, and that job includes spot inspections of the work area." The ranger shot me a defiant look, then stalked over to the cave entrance. I longed to just walk away and leave him to sort himself out, but I was curious to see how his meeting with Frances would go. He was definitely going to make her put on a hard hat.

So I followed him back to the cave entrance, rubbing my arms through my shirt in an attempt to drive out the strange heat tingling through them. The ranger knelt down in front of the tiny hole, sticking one leg in first, than the other. I was hoping he'd get his enormous, sculpted, arrogant shoulders stuck, but he managed to slide through easily, the rain hardly touching him. Sighing, I crouched down and slid in after him.

By the time I'd wriggled through the entrance, he was already stomping through the water towards the site, his face set in a firm line. Frances stood up, and dusted off her hands. "You must be the new ranger. You don't have to come down here, you know. I understand it's a tight fit."

She didn't say it, but her resentment at his presence was written all over her face, unobscured by the brim of her nonexistent hard hat. Frances hated the county intrusion on her work. They were required by law to oversee the excavation, but Frances saw Crookshollow Caves as _her_ site. She'd literally written the textbook on neolithic caves in England. She didn't want some ranger who didn't know a flint tool from an arrowhead telling her what to do, especially if he was as prickly as this character appeared to be.

He didn't shake her offered hand, either. "I'm Luke Lowe. I'm replacing Daniel. Can you tell me what procedures you have in place for preserving the ecosystem within the cave? I notice a stalagmite broken off by the entrance."

I cringed. I'd done that accidentally on the first day. A stalagmite formed over tens of thousands of years, through water dripping through cracks in the rocks. One misplaced swing of the theodolite tripod, and I'd knocked it off. And judging by Luke's expression, I could be glad he didn't know it was me.

"I have a full environmental report waiting for you back at camp, Mr. Lowe. Anna will show it to you. I have a lot of delicate work to do here, and I'm sure you'd rather get out of the rain."

"The rain doesn't bother me. What bothers me is your lack of personal protective equipment—"

"Nonsense." Frances practically pushed him towards the cave entrance. "I wouldn't want you to catch a cold. I'll give you a full tour of the site in the morning, I promise. The weather is supposed to clear a little by then. Anna, take our guest back to the camp and get a pot of tea boiling. You might as well finish up for the day, and we'll be along presently."

"I'll take Mr. Lowe, if Anna would rather stay behind. It doesn't look as though she's finished her quadrant yet," Ruth piped up. I snapped my head around, watching her smile broadly at Luke and tuck her chin-length blonde hair behind her ears. For some reason, this turned my stomach more than it should have.

"That's fine," I snapped. "I can do it." I didn't want to be alone with the new ranger, but I wasn't giving Ruth the satisfaction of flirting with him for the rest of the afternoon. "Finish my quadrant for me, would you? You must be _dying_ to pick up a trowel again after a whole day carrying around that heavy tripod."

Ruth gave me a filthy look. I couldn't be certain, but I thought I saw a flicker of amusement pass over Luke's face. But when I glanced at him again, it was gone, replaced by his now-familiar sour expression.

"This way." I gestured for him to follow me back through the cave entrance and out into the rain. I jogged down the path, glancing back to make sure Luke was following me. He took long, graceful strides, having no trouble keeping up despite the fact he looked as though he were only taking a leisurely stroll. More of his hair had fallen out of his ponytail, and the rain plastered the curls to his face, making him appear even more attractive. An image of him naked under a shower flicked across my vision, and I was so shocked at the thought, I whirled around and ploughed straight into a tree.

"Argh!" I flopped backward, landing on my arse in a puddle. Mud splashed across my shirt and soaked through my already sodden dungarees.

"Careful," Luke called over the downpour as he strode past me. He didn't help me up. What a plonker. I cursed myself for fantasizing about him.

I trudged after Luke towards the camp, trying in vain to wipe some of the mud from the seat of my dungarees. The five of us were camping in a clearing around four hundred metres from the cave network. We had Dr. Doyle's rickety old caravan as a kitchen and field office, a small tin gardening shed that functioned as artefact storage, and a collection of leaking pup tents that we slept in. I led Luke up the stairs of the caravan, and shoved open the door.

"Take your shoes off," I ordered him, as I hung up my hard hat, kicked my boots off and stomped into the kitchen, not caring that I was smearing mud everywhere as I located the tea and filled the kettle. We had a half-packet of biscuits left, and I knew Frances was saving them for when the new ranger arrived, but I didn't get them out. Luke didn't deserve the last chocolate finger.

"Why? It's not exactly the Ritz in here. And with you shuffling around, it looks like the set of _Attacked by the Mud Creature From the Deep_." He kicked off his boots, though, which was more than I expected, and left them in front of the door. Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled out one of the stools at the counter and sat down, picking up one of Frances's field notebooks from the stack on the counter and flicking through it.

I bit back a million retorts that threatened to spill out of my mouth. I had to be nice to this guy, no matter how rude he was to me. One word from him and Frances could be shut down. And as much as I resented having to be here, I liked her, and I didn't want to be the reason she had to stop work in the caves. That, and I needed to pass this course if I had any hope of getting into a master's programme.

So I took a deep breath, and tried to calm my racing heart and that weird, thrumming heat in my veins. What was it about this guy that made my whole body feel like I'd placed my finger in an electrical socket?

"Do you take milk and sugar?" I slammed a couple of cups down on the counter, harder than I'd intended.

"Just a splash of milk," Luke said, not looking up from his reading. "Tell me about what you've discovered about the site so far."

"Wouldn't you want to quiz Professor Doyle on that?" I demanded. "After all, I'm _just a student._ "

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back. What was wrong with me? I never spoke like that to anyone. I was the biggest pushover in the world. The very fact I was in this hellhole instead of Sicily was testament to that. But this guy had me completely on edge.

"Feeling feisty, aren't we?" Luke must have sensed my discomfort, for he gave me a smile that was slightly friendlier. He set down the notebook and looked up at me, those wicked green eyes sizing me up. A wet lock of hair flopped down over his eye, and he reached up and tucked it behind his ear. I gulped. If only he thought of me as anything other than an annoying student not worth his time... he was just the kind of guy I'd go for, my deepest, sexist fantasies come to life. "I can see that you don't like me."

"I... it's not... I just..." I backed away from him. Everything was going wrong. I was not used to being confronted like this, not when my veins were thrumming with tension. "I don't know you. You just seem as though you don't really want to be here."

"Then you misunderstand me. I want to be here very much." His eyes bore into mine. "And not just because of the caves."

My heart pounded against my chest. Did I read that right? Was this incredibly arrogant, incredibly handsome man _flirting_ with me? I don't think anyone had ever flirted with me before. "I... er..."

_I must be wrong. He couldn't possibly be—_

"Let me get that tea." Luke stood up, his body inches from mine in the tiny kitchen. The air around me crackled with electricity. More than anything in the world I wanted to lean forward, press my body against his, and feel his lips brush against mine.

_No._

I had to resist those thoughts. I wasn't ready for men again, not after what had happened to Ben. And I certainly wasn't ready for a man like this, who was cocky and confident and looked as though he sat firmly in the shagging-his-way-across-the-English-countryside camp. This guy would tear my heart out and dip it in his tea.

Luke reached around me and went to pick up the milk. My skin crawled with heat, the urge to touch him screamed inside me. My eyes locked on his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss them, to feel his tongue slide against mine—

"I can do it myself," I said, my words coming out cold and harsh as I tried to rein in my desire. I snatched the milk from his hands and stepped back, splashing some into his mug. "Don't think that just because you're the ranger here, that you can intimidate me with your mere presence. I'm not impressed by guys like you."

"What makes you think I'm trying to impress you?" Luke said. A wicked grin spread across his face. "That's probably enough."

"Enough..." I glanced down. While I'd been talking, I'd still been pouring out the milk. A little white waterfall flowed over the edges of his cup and down the side of the cupboard. "Oh, shit!"

"Don't worry." Luke grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and started mopping it up. "I'll take care of it."

"Wait," I hated the way my voice whined. I held out my hand for the towels. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. It's been a long day, and I am very damp and cold and grumpy. Let me do it."

I reached out to take the towels from his hand, but he yanked them away. "I said I'll take care of it," he said, shortly. "You just sit over there and try not to touch anything else."

I moved across to the other side of the counter, a safe distance away from those rippling shoulders and piercing eyes. _I must've been mistaken. He wasn't flirting. He's just made it clear he's not interested_. I should have felt relieved, but all I felt was the flush of embarrassment, mixed with bitter disappointment.

Luke finished mopping up the spill and threw the towels into the rubbish. He threw his mug in the stack of dirty dishes on the bench, grabbed another one from the shelf, fixed his own tea, then set it down on the table across from me, as far from me as he could get in the tiny space. He pushed my own mug in front of me. "The caves," he said. "Tell me about them."

"Frances can—"

"I didn't ask Professor Doyle," he said. "I asked you."

Not looking up from my cup, I stammered my way through a basic description of the site, how an extended family had probably lived in the caves for several generations, using them seasonally to store food and take shelter when the weather turned.

"And you haven't found any cave paintings, anything like that?"

I shook my head. "Cave paintings are extremely rare, especially in this period. Conditions have to be just right, or they'll be destroyed. I don't think we'll find anything as interesting as that here."

"What's that on your wrist?" Luke asked, pointing to the silver bracelet I'd been playing with subconsciously.

Hastily, I covered my hand over the cool metal band. My father had given me the bracelet when I'd got my GCSEs. "I'm so proud of you, Anna," he'd said as he slid the cool metal onto my wrist. "I know you're going to do amazing things." He'd died two weeks later, and I hadn't taken it off since. Just touching it reassured me when I was nervous, and being in the same space as Luke Lowe made me incredibly nervous.

"The environmental regulations clearly prohibit the wearing of jewellery in the caves." Luke frowned. "It could get snagged on the rocks and cause damage to the caves, not to mention the fact that jewellery on any site is a health and safety concern. Your party has already broken off that stalactite. If I see any other damage in the caves, I'm going to ask you all to leave."

"It... it's just a bracelet." I said, a lump rising in my throat. "I'm being so careful. You have no idea. I'm the only one wearing my hard hat. Surely that's more important—"

"It's all important. That bracelet is not allowed. You need to take it off."

"Okay. Fine." I could barely get the words out. Tears battled against my eyelids. I tried to blink them back, but they spilled over, crashing down my cheeks. I couldn't stay there with him, not while I was crying. My whole body flushed with the shame of it. I turned my head away, pushed my stool back, and shoved my feet into my boots.

"Anna, wait!" Luke called out, but I was already out the door and fleeing to my tent.

Once inside the privacy of my canvas walls, I collapsed on my sleeping back, the tears flowing thick now. What was wrong with me? I'd been feeling okay for a month now. I hadn't cried about Ben in a few weeks, and we'd buried Dad years ago... so why was I so upset now? Luke was right, the bracelet was against the rules. And I knew better than anyone how important obeying the rules was.

It was that guy, Luke. His arrogance had got inside my head. Maybe I wasn't as over Ben as I thought, because just the thought of Luke flirting with me made me feel sick.

Why did Luke have to come here at all? Why couldn't they have sent a non-attractive ranger? And most of all, why was my own body betraying me? Why did I want him so badly, even though I also hated his guts?

## Chapter Two

# Luke

_Woah._

Anna Sinclair.

_Woah._

The moment I stepped out of the car, her scent hit me like a brick wall. Light and floral and utterly delicious, she was like a rare flower blooming in a barren field. I knew from the moment her aroma wafted across my nostrils, she was meant to be mine.

And that knowledge was terrifying.

As she stalked through the forest towards me, panic rose in my chest. This was not supposed to happen. I'd come back to Crookshollow for the caves. I was here for one reason only, to prevent any of my family's dark secrets from being drawn to the surface once again, to ensure my father could rest in peace without the past being dragged up again. And now that the site's discovery had been made public, there was also the possibility that some other wolf might show up here, eager to lay claim to my family's old territories. I had to be on my guard. I couldn't have any distractions.

As I watched her bite her lower lip with nerves, and my cock stirred to life, I knew Anna Sinclair was going to be one hell of a distraction.

_This can't be happening._ I had it all planned out. I'd fabricated a story about a robbery to trick the last ranger into resigning. I'd managed to flirt my way through the job interview with Bev, the fifty-something head ranger with hair like burnt straw, and I'd landed the job as the new park ranger in Crookshollow Forest, overseeing the archaeological excavation. All I had to do was sneak into the cave at night, find the paintings, destroy them, and check that no other wolves were in the area. Then I could retreat back into the wilderness and continue my mourning in peace.

I never could have anticipated that my mate would also be here. But here she was – the woman I was destined to be with, the women who my body already ached for – offering me a mud-caked hand to shake.

I didn't dare take it. The air between us already sizzled with electricity – with the unknowable and unavoidable force that drew me to her. My veins surged with heat, and the wolf within pressed against my skin, threatening at any moment to burst forth and claim his mate. If our skin touched, I couldn't guarantee I'd be able to control myself, and jumping the young archaeologist and doing her up against a tree before I'd even said, "Hello, terrible weather we've having," might be considered a little rude. So I stared at her hand, and she retracted it.

My rudeness rankled her, and her beautiful face set in a firm expression, her cute nostrils flaring slightly with anger. God, that was hot. Note to self, make her angry again. She was trying to lead me to the camp, but I knew I needed to see the cave first, to leave my scent there, lest any other wolf showed up trying to claim it as their own. Plus, I wanted to see if it still matched my father's description.

Anna pointed out the entrance. It was small, barely wide enough for me to wiggle my shoulders through. This made perfect sense, as it meant only one wolf could enter or exit at a time. This made it easier to guard against warring packs. Unfortunately, it hadn't saved my father's family from a grisly death.

I was hoping Anna would shimmy through the gap first, so I could watch her gorgeous arse slide down into that dark hole. But she hung back, waiting for me. I shoved my legs through the hole and slid down.

Inside, the cave was surprisingly bright. Floodlights illuminated the raised floor of the work area, their cords extending out through a smaller hole in the roof and hooking up to the solar panels I'd noticed resting against the rocky ledge outside. The light reflected off the shallow pool of water at my feet, a small river that ran across the entrance and deeper into the cave.

I glanced around, taking it all in. The cave floor, the vaulted room, the little river by the door. It was just as my father had said it was—

I raised my nose into the air and sniffed. A hundred snatches of scent wafted through my nostrils – mostly the smell of rats and foxes and other small animals that had taken shelter here. The distinct odour of another wolf was absent. Good, I was the first one here. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any others.

As I waded through the shallow river, I raised my arm, rubbing my underarm as casually as I could across the rocks. I noticed one of the stalactites in the cluster by the entrance had been broken off. A shudder of rage tore through my body. Archaeologists pissed me off so much. All they were interested in was evidence of human achievement, human beauty, human triumph. Meanwhile, they stomped around in beautiful natural landscapes, destroying things that took thousands of years to form, and didn't even bat an eyelash.

I spoke briefly to Frances Doyle, the head archaeologist. She was annoyed at my presence. She wasn't wearing her hard hat, which I made a mental note to write up later. In fact, of all the team, only Anna was wearing the correct safety gear. Her hard hat looked adorable perched on top of her head.

Even though I was standing in the home of my ancestors, a place we'd long since thought buried and hidden forever, I struggled to concentrate as I became aware of Anna Sinclair behind me, her soft breathing, her teeth biting down on the edge of her lip, the shape of her breasts through the wet fabric of her shirt—

My blood ran hot, my whole body desperate to claim her. How was I going to survive sharing a campsite with her? I'd been here five minutes and I was already imagining what she'd look like rolling naked in the mud while I took her—

_No. Focus, Luke. You're not here for a mate. You're here for your father._

My father. The pain of his loss temporarily cooled my blood. It had only been a month since he'd died, and I still couldn't believe he was really gone. All my life, it had just been the two of us. I longed to talk to him, to have his opinion on what I should do about Anna, but he'd never give me his wisdom again.

Through the haze of my thoughts, I heard Frances order Anna to take me back to the camp and put the kettle on. Good. Maybe I'd be able to collect my thoughts away from this place. This time, Anna led the way out of the cave. I clambered out behind her with as much dignity as I could muster, deliberately running my palm along the cave wall, smearing a scent path that should deter any other wolf.

Anna stalked in front of me, that sensuous arse of hers swaying seductively, even in her mud-covered dungarees. She must be feeling the effects of the attraction, too. I noticed with a not inconsiderable amount of joy that she was staring over her shoulder at me. She was staring so hard, in fact, that she ran right into a tree and fell down into the mud.

She looked miserable sitting in that puddle in the pelting rain, her dungarees bunched up around her boots. I wanted desperately to help her up and wipe all the mud off her arse with my hand, but I knew if I touched her, I would be claiming her as mine. And as tempting as she was, I couldn't do that. She was perfect, and I was a broken, damaged man, carrying secrets that would chill her soul.

If only I could get my body to see sense. It was going to be very, _very_ hard to keep my mind on the task at hand.

An hour later, I lay on my inflatable mattress, my stomach rumbling and a stack of field notes on my chest that I should have been studying. But instead, I was staring at the ceiling and thinking about Anna.

I'd been rude to her in the caravan, when she offered me tea. I'd been even more rude trying to get information from her about the site. I'd even flirted with her a little, just to see how she'd react. Surely, she must feel the same energy between us, the same deadly attraction?

Well, Anna may have been my mate, but she certainly didn't know it. She was a shy little thing, always biting her lip instead of saying what was on her mind. Normally, I would never be interested in a girl like that, so eager to please, so desperate to be liked that she never disagreed. I could tell she'd wanted to tell me to fuck off with my attitude, or to fuck her with my cock. But instead, she apologised.

And _then,_ when I cornered her about her bracelet, she'd burst into tears and run away. The pain in her eyes when she put her hand on that silver band tore at me. Something had hurt her badly, and it had to do with that bracelet. And like an idiot, I had chewed her out about it.

_This is never going to work,_ I told my brain. _I don't want to be with anyone, least of all a shy archaeologist. I've been alone my entire life, and that's just the way it's supposed to be. I have my own pain to deal with. I don't need to take on anyone else's._

You're _an idiot._ My brain whispered back. _Maybe she's exactly what you need._

Professor Doyle cooked a dinner of stew and potatoes. The stew burnt to the bottom of the pan, and tasted mostly of charcoal. The potatoes were so lumpy they could've spelled DON'T EAT ME in Braille. The team ate in silence, although it was clear from their faces that this was the calibre of meal I could expect to get used to.

After dinner, Frances handed around drinks from the fridge and each person settled into their own activities. I hoped this might be my chance to speak to Anna and apologise for upsetting her, but just as I was about to move in, Ruth plopped down next to me and shoved a beer under my nose. "I'm so passionate about sustainability," she gushed, as she tipped her cider into a disposable coffee cup that would release enough methane into the atmosphere during its inevitable trip to the bottom of a landfill to turn the ozone layer around her ditzy head into a doily.

I choked back my gathering scorn and spoke to Ruth politely, listening with half an ear as she prattled on about the Save the Whales project she'd been involved in back at the university. My eyes remained fixed on Anna, who sat at the far end of the caravan, under the window, drinking her beer in short gulps as she buried her face in a science fiction novel. She wore a pair of reading glasses that made her doe-brown eyes appear even larger.

"—and I raised enough money to pay the petrol for one whale protestor's boat—"

"Excuse me." I broke Ruth off mid-sentence as I stood up, and walked over to where Anna was sitting. Max looked up from the rummy game he was playing with Frances and shot me a horrified look that clearly implied what he thought of my decision.

"May I?" I gestured to the space beside her.

"It's a free country," she replied. Her cheeks flared red as I plopped down beside her, close enough to breathe in her intoxicating scent, but not close enough that we actually touched. She pushed her glasses up her nose, and continued to stare down at the page.

"You're reading Heinlein?" I glanced at the title of her book. _Stranger in a Strange Land._ A lump rose in my throat at the title. That had been one of Dad's favourite books.

Anna nodded. "Re-reading, actually. I love all of Heinlein's stories." She blushed deeper, as though she'd somehow revealed some deep personal secret.

"Me, too," I said. The electricity between us sizzled, pulling me towards her like two opposing charges. "I love the way Heinlen uses the character of Smith to force the reader to view their own preconceptions."

She nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of the page. "Exactly. I read this book for the first time when I was fourteen. Every few years, I reread it. And I always get something different out of it. That's what I love about Heinlen – people think _Stranger_ is all about Heinlen presenting his ideal world in the form of Smith's 'religion.' But that's not it at all. He's inviting you to think, not to believe."

"Yeah, that's it exactly." That was seriously insightful. "What other authors do you like?"

"Oh, all sorts." She looked up at me then. Her eyes lit up as she spoke. "I've read all the classic science fiction authors, of course. Asimov, H. G. Wells, Frank Herbert. I especially love science fiction when it crosses with horror."

"So a big Lovecraft fan, then?"

"Oh, definitely. Give me Cthulhu over sparkly vampires any day." She grinned. "I do like some fantasy books. Writers like Laurell K. Hamilton and Patricia Briggs who take old legends like vampires and werewolves and bring them into the contemporary world. There's this amazing author named S. C. Green who wrote these dark steampunk books set in a Georgian London infested with dinosaurs. My friend Derek got me onto those – he is always giving me new books to read. He's studying mythology so he digs that kind of stuff."

"What's your favourite creature?"

"Werewolves," she said instantly. "I love how primal and protective they are. Werewolves are all about family. I totally dig that."

_If only you knew,_ I thought ruefully, marvelling at where this conversation had gone. I pointed to the crinkled book cover. "So you've had that book since you were fourteen?"

Anna shook her head. "I got this copy from a second-hand bookshop in Crookshollow. My dad gave me a beautiful hardcover copy for my fourteenth birthday. But I wouldn't take that to a site. My books are precious, especially ones from my dad."

"A woman after my own heart."

She smiled then, a genuine smile that made my heart pound against my stomach. "Oh yes?"

"I have a small cabin in Sherwood Forest," I explained. "I go there when I'm not working. It's pretty tiny and very basic – there's no mobile reception and you have to bathe in a little stream outside. But I keep all my books there." In my head, I imagined her sitting beside me before the fire, her feet over my knees as she leaned back against the sofa, a book open on her lap, those adorable glasses perched on her nose.

I hadn't been back to the cabin since Dad died – everything there bore his scent, his unmistakable presence. I couldn't face being there alone. But the idea of Anna being there with me made a return trip seem instantly palatable. _The things we could get up to in that stream..._

"It sounds heavenly," she said, her voice slightly wistful. "I live with my mum in a flat in Crooks Crossing. There's not a lot of room, so I have to keep my favourite books in boxes under my bed. Even then, there are several boxes stashed in the loft."

"You live with your mum? So your parents are divorced."

Anna shook her head. My stomach sank as I realised what that probably meant. Anna looked away, her whole body stiffening. Her hand flew to her wrist, which the silver bracelet still defiantly encircled.

"I have to go," she whispered, the book falling from her hand and clattering on the floor.

"Why?" Disappointment surged through me. I was actually enjoying talking to her. I wanted to find out more about what books she liked, about her family, about her studies and what had made her want to be an archaeologist. But for some reason, her father's death – for that had to be what it was – kept her closed off from me. But it didn't have to. I reached out to her, willing to say anything to get her to stay and talk to me. "Anna, I know how you feel. My father—"

"I just... I can't..." She grabbed her coat and swung herself up, racing for the caravan door and sprinting into the wet evening as fast as her legs could carry her.

I stayed in the caravan for another hour in case Anna came back, but she didn't. I got stuck talking to Ruth and Max about reality TV shows – a sickness I had yet to succumb to. As a ranger, I didn't have the chance to watch much TV, and when I did, my taste lent itself to western films and Star Trek reruns, not the inner monologues of ten stick-thin models posing as seductive lampposts in an avant-garde advertisement for a lighting company. While I tuned out their inane discussion, I mentally ran through my conversation with Anna, trying to figure out where I had gone wrong.

_Her father._ I'd assumed he was dead, but what if I was wrong? What if I just assumed that because that was my situation? What if Anna's father was in jail? What if he was in jail for something he'd done to her?

If that was true, that was pretty heavy. I got why she wouldn't want to talk about that with a stranger, especially not in the caravan with Frances and Ruth and Max listening. Fuck, I was an insensitive idiot.

_Try again tomorrow_. I hadn't completely fucked up. Yet. Even though I didn't want a mate, I was becoming more intrigued by Anna Sinclair. Maybe it was that pain I'd seen flicker across her face – a pain that felt like a mirror of my own.

That decision made, I stood up and loped off towards my tent without wishing the others goodnight. As I strode across the campsite, the moon rose higher through the trees, taunting me with its pale light. In two days' time, she would be completely full. The itch pulsed through my veins, making me feel nervous, jumpy. I scratched my cheek furiously, out of habit, but nothing could sate the itch of the moon heating my wolven blood.

I was staying in Daniel's tent, which he'd left set up for me after leaving in a hurry to deal with the emergency I'd invented for him. I was lucky I had a dodgy friend in Liverpool (are there any other kind of friends from Liverpool?) who was willing to break into his flat for me. He hadn't stolen anything, just messed the place up enough that Daniel would need to spend time cleaning it as well as filing reports with the police. He'd taken two weeks' leave, which should be more than enough time for me to do what I'd come to do.

Luckily, Daniel had set up his tent a good fifty metres from the others, between the camp and the caves. I'd at least have some privacy. Most of Daniel's things were still inside. I unzipped my rucksack and took out my bottle of _Lycan_ pills. They weren't the usual ones I took, but I'd heard good things about Clara – the local witch in Crookshollow village – and she'd assured me these were even more potent. Hopefully, the pills would keep my wolfish persona in check while the moon was high. Otherwise, I might do something I'd later regret, especially with the delectable Anna around.

I downed a couple of pills, and waited. The itch did seem to abate a bit. Good. I had something important to do that night.

The moon rose higher, and the itch throbbed through my whole body. I gritted my teeth and held my hands at my sides, resisting the urge to scratch my skin raw, the way I had done as a child.

Instead, I counted the minutes on my watch. _Eleven thirty... eleven forty-three... eleven fifty-seven..._ When I was sure everyone else was asleep, I grabbed my torch, a crowbar, and a notebook from my pack, and made my way swiftly and silently from the camp towards the caves.

It was better to get the job over and done with. Then I could focus my attention on Anna.

The seam of basaltic rock ran through the forest for miles, and I knew that a huge network of caves ran through it, carved out by the movement of the earth and the paths dug by water rushing ever downward. People had inhabited the caves since the neolithic period, but not many people knew how recently they had been occupied.

I had to keep it that way.

It took me a few minutes to find the cave entrance in the dark. I sniffed the air again, but it was hard to distinguish the smells. Everything out here was tainted by the intoxicating scent of Anna. I could smell her footsteps as clearly as if she'd wandered through a tub of butter.

I shimmied through the tiny hole, my boots splashing in the water. Now that the rain had finally stopped, the pool around my feet wasn't nearly as deep as it had been earlier, although it was still slippery. I flicked my torch on, and made my way carefully over the rocks and across the site.

The archaeologists had used string lines to create a grid of twelve squares (or quadrants, as Anna called them) across the living floor, and they were systematically clearing away the stratigraphic layers of each square, recording all the artefacts and features, and mapping notable finds into the theodolite to create a three-dimensional spatial map. So far, it didn't look as though they'd ventured any further back into the cave. That was a good sign.

Even when the cancer had eaten away at his mind and body, my father remembered the layout of the cave as though he'd been there just yesterday. I knew from his description the cave paintings were located in a tunnel leading down from a secondary cavern located through a small fissure at the end of the living floor – the flattened area where prehistoric people had made their home in the cave. I needed to find them before Frances and her team did, and destroy them, if there was even anything left. Nearly a hundred years had passed since they'd last been seen. Nature might have already taken care of things for me.

I picked my way carefully along the wooden planks placed between the quadrants, and scanned the rear wall with my torch. It only took a few moments to find what I was looking for, a small opening in the back wall of the cave, at about waist height. I pushed my torch through first, resting it on a protruding rock so it pointed back towards me. I squeezed my shoulders forward, and wriggled my body into the tiny hole, using the wall behind me to kick off with my feet.

It was a tight fit, but after a few moments of sweating and shifting and grunting, I managed to slip my arms through. I used the rock in front of me to pull my torso into the darkness. I stood up, dusting myself off, and shone the torch around me. I was standing in a long fissure between the rocks, the roof of the cave at least three metres above my head. I manoeuvred my way between the two sloping faces. At the end of the fissure, the room opened out into a large cavern. In the far corner, a pool of water reflected the light of my torch back at me. Dark openings led off to the left and the right.

_Dad said it was the left tunnel._ I jumped down onto the next stone and headed towards the opening, the crowbar on my back clanging against the rock as I swung myself around.

Back here, the rocks were dry, the ground beneath me crumbling stone. At the entrance, I shone my torch down the tunnel, bouncing the light along the walls, searching for the coloured designs that marked the paintings. I couldn't see anything.

"You've got to be here," I muttered under my breath, bending up to check the ceiling of the tunnel. This was exactly where he'd said they'd be. So why couldn't I see—

"What the hell are you doing?" a sultry voice demanded from behind me.

_Shit._ I was caught.

## Chapter Three

# Anna

Luke whirled around, the light of his torch temporarily blinding me. "Anna, you startled me."

"I might say the same thing," I said, suddenly nervous. Not twenty minutes ago, I'd been tucked up warm in my sleeping bag, trying to forget about the way Luke had smiled at me when I said how much I love Heinlein's books. I had been drifting off to sleep, imagining what it would be like to kiss Luke's soft lips... but then I'd realised I didn't have my book with me. Had I left it in the caravan when I'd run away from Luke, or had I dropped it somewhere outside on the way to my tent?

Dammit. That was the only book I'd brought along to read. Without it, I'd have to resort to talking to people. And between Ruth's sickening suckupitude, Frances's scatterbrained inattentiveness, and Max's overall leery strangeness, I wasn't that keen on the idea.

So I'd sighed, and sat up to pull on my socks and boots. I had realized that I was wide awake now, and the thought of the book sitting in a puddle outside hast just been more than I could bear. It was like I'd told Luke: my books were precious, even the battered second-hand copies. I'd pulled on my jacket and stepped out into the frigid night. I'd retraced my steps across the camp to the caravan, but hadn't been able to see it on the ground anywhere. Peering in at the window, I'd noticed the book sitting on the edge of the chair. I went inside and grabbed it, relief seeping through my body as I clutched it under my arm. I had been heading back to my tent when I'd seen Luke creeping off towards the caves.

It had been curiosity that compelled me to follow him. But now that I was here, confronting him wearing only my pyjamas, thermal underwear, boots, and jacket, I realised just how dangerous this situation could be. I barely knew Luke. Just because he was gorgeous didn't mean he didn't have some nefarious purpose. As far as I knew, the guy could be unstable. And I was alone with him, without my hard hat, in the dark, in an unexplored section of the cave. No one else knew I was here. If he killed me now, they wouldn't ever find my body.

I'd just made all the mistakes I'd promised myself I'd never make.

"I asked a question," I said, trying to stop my voice from wavering. Luke stared at me with wide eyes. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Fancy that. I'd actually rendered him speechless.

"Luke?" I prodded, careful to keep my voice stern. No sense in letting him sense my fear.

"I'm just... checking up on some of the details of your excavation." Luke nodded firmly. "Frances's notes weren't very expansive. I thought I'd come here and try to get a sense of things _in situ_."

"This area of the cave hasn't been explored," I said, my voice shrinking in the cavernous space. "That fact was in the notes you were reading. It's dangerous to come here by yourself, especially at night, especially if no one knows where you are."

"You know where I am," he growled, those fierce green eyes flickering over my body. With a flush, I remembered that I was wearing my hideous pink thermal leggings underneath my Snoopy pyjama pants. Could this day get any worse?

"We shouldn't be in the caves at night," I repeated nervously. "I believe a certain ranger told me it's against the rules."

"Do you ever do anything that's against the rules?" he asked, closing the gap between us in a heartbeat. He still hadn't touched me, but my body flooded with warm, pulsing energy. How was it he could make me feel this way? Especially when I'd just caught him red handed doing something he shouldn't.

"I... er..."

"I thought so." Luke stepped closer. "Anna, I can explain. I—"

"Argh!" I screamed as something swooped down from the darkness and flapped beside my face. I dropped my torch as I flung my hands up to protect my eyes from the screeching bat. My stomach turned as the bat's furry body slipped through my fingers and scrambled into my hair, its wings twitching as it tangled itself deeper.

The torch clattered on the rocks below, bouncing down the steps and plunging into the pool. The light went out.

"Fuck," Luke swore. "Stand still!"

"I can't stand still. There's a bat in my hair!" I wailed, flailing my hands around my head. I turned to run back down the fissure, but instead I crashed into Luke, sending his torch flying from his hands. It hit the rocks with a crash, and the light flickered out, plunging us both into complete darkness.

Tears welled in my eyes. The bat's feet scrabbled against my head, yanking my hair so hard the entire side of my scalp felt as though it were being pulled off. Luke's hands battled in my hair. He swore again as the squabbling intensified. Finally, the bat released me, and I heard its wings flapping away into the darkness.

"Ow." I touched the side of my head. My scalp felt tender. But at least it was still there. Luckily, I'd already had a tetanus shot.

"Anna, are you okay?"

I nodded, biting my lip. After a moment of silence, I realised how stupid that was. "I'm fine," I said, my voice cracking.

"I can tell. Here, hold on to me," Luke ordered. I reached out, grabbing for his elbow, but instead, my fingers brushed the fabric of his jeans. I felt the button on his fly. Shit. I'd grabbed him right—

"If you wanted an excuse to grope me, you just had to ask," he said, laughing.

"Shut up," I shot back, heat flaring in my cheeks. I was lucky it was so dark, he wouldn't be able to see how beet-red I must be. I reached up, clamping my hand around his forearm. The warm sensation raced through my fingers, down my whole arm, lighting all my senses on fire.

_Woah._ The heat was intense. It wasn't just my hormones on overdrive. The heat penetrated every layer of my body, spreading through my limbs and circling through my head. My chest swelled with intense emotion. I gulped back the urge to... I'm not sure whether I wanted to cry or laugh or kiss Luke or push him away or beg him to marry me. The intense sensation swirled around my head, and in the darkness, it was even more disorienting. I squeezed Luke's arm tighter, reassuring myself that he was there, and that I was standing upright still.

"Luke," I asked, tugging at my hand. "I feel—"

"I know." His deep voice came through the dark. Confident, reassuring. "Don't think about it right now, Anna. We need to focus on getting out of here. Can you follow behind me?"

"I... I think so."

Luke's fingers closed around mine. The warmth in my body surged. Slowly, Luke felt his way back up the fissure, squeezing his way between the gap. I kept close at his heels, my other hand feeling my way along the rocks, re-establishing my bearings. Every few moments he squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, assuring him I was fine.

"You're good at this," I remarked as we emerged onto the site and Luke picked his way carefully around the quadrants without disturbing any of our cuttings.

"I can see well in the dark," he said, then sucked in his breath, as though he'd said something he shouldn't.

"That's interesting."

"Is it?" He slid down a rocky ledge, then turned to grip my waist with his strong hands. Before I could say anything, he'd lifted me down, and crushed my body against his powerful chest. My face was millimetres from his. His hot breath warmed my lips. The energy between us sizzled. "I can think of much more interesting things right now."

_Kiss me,_ my body screamed. In the dark, my senses worked in overdrive, assailing me with Luke's intoxicating masculine scent, the sensation of his fingers gripping me, the press of his bulge against my thigh.

"Luke—" I murmured, not sure whether I was protesting or begging.

"Anna." His husky voice grated against my ears. His breath caressed my cheek. And then, he pressed his lips to mine.

I pressed back. My whole body shot with fire. It was as though the kiss connected us by more than just our lips.

Luke teased apart my lips, his tongue running against mine, dragging me deeper into his embrace. His hand cupped my cheek, holding my head against his as though he couldn't bear to break the seal. His other hand burned the small of my back.

In the darkness, every touch, every sensation spiralled out of control. He burned all around me, a star going supernova, trailing a line of fire across my universe.

I tangled my fingers through his hair, pulling it out of its tie and enjoying the way the silky threads fell through my fingers. I'd never been with a guy who had long hair before. Ben's hair had been your standard number-two cut... _No,_ I didn't want to think about Ben. Not now—

_Too late._ Ben's face was dancing on my vision. That carefree smile he'd worn as he'd kissed me goodbye for the last time... his battered face staring up at me at the morgue, stiff and lifeless. My body stiffened.

Luke pulled away. "We... shouldn't do this," he breathed.

"It's a bad idea," I agreed, leaning forward to kiss him again, wanting to drive out the vision of Ben. Luke moaned as my lips touched his, and I melted back against him, losing myself in his wonderful touch.

He tore himself away again. "Anna. We have to stop."

"You don't want this?"

He laughed hollowly. "That's not it at all. You were the one who just stiffened up."

"I don't want to talk about that right now. I just..."

"Look, it's fine." Luke shrugged away from me. My heart beat against my chest. How had this gone so wrong? Why had I thought about Ben at all... thinking about him wouldn't bring him back. "We can just go back to the camp and forget it ever happened."

"But... you kissed me?" Panic rose in my chest.

"Yes." He sighed. "And I want to push you up against that rock face and fuck you senseless."

My whole body flushed.

Luke continued. "But aside from the fact we risk getting stalactites in some very unfortunate places, I'm not sure it's such a good idea. We're supposed to be working together."

Now my face flushed with embarrassment. Luke was right. If we did... anything, it was going to be awkward as hell for the rest of the dig. I was supposed to be doing my best job to impress Professor Doyle so I could get a recommendation for my master's course. Luke was supposed to keep all us archaeologists in line, and prevent the kind of accidents that had killed my dad and Ben. It wouldn't look good if anyone found out that we were shagging.

Disappointment surged through me, followed by an intense wave of sadness. For a minute there, I'd been completely ready to expose myself to Luke, both figuratively and very, very literally. I'd finally let down that wall that had been closed off ever since Ben had died, and the only thing on the other side was a guy who couldn't even begin to comprehend the enormity of that. _You have to remember that Luke doesn't have all this baggage. To him, you are just a shag. Probably one of hundreds of women. That's why it's so easy for him to just pull back. He can just get it somewhere else. Don't read more into this than it is._

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said, keeping my voice steady. At least in the dark, he couldn't see the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. _This is what happens when you let yourself be vulnerable,_ the voice inside my head warned me. _You get hurt._

We scrambled out of the cave without touching and walked back to the camp, keeping a wide distance between us. The silent night stretched between us, filling the void with hanging, unanswered questions. The waxing moon beat down on my back, illuminating the forest with long shadows. I watched Luke out of the corner of my eye. He walked tall, his shoulders back, his head high, almost as though he were a dog sniffing out a scent. He showed no hint of disappointment or sadness at all.

_You made the right decision,_ I told myself, even though the disappointment still bit into me.

Luke walked me to my tent. As I stooped to open the flap of the tent, he cleared his throat. "Anna, I—"

"It's fine," I said. "You were right. Goodnight, Luke."

I glanced up at him then, and caught his gaze. His eyes locked with mine, the stare so intense, so primal, it gave me a start. How could he be so blasé about things back in the cave, and then look at me like _that?_

Luke turned away, his mouth curling up at the edges ever so slightly. "Goodnight, Anna. Sweet dreams."

I pulled up the flap of my tent and crawled inside. I scrambled around in the dark and found my phone, which I clicked on to the torch app to give me light while I took off my jacket and socks. My sleeping bag had never looked so inviting.

Weariness washed over me as I crawled down into the bag, pulling the flap right up around my chin. I trembled, but not from the cold. The heat still pulsed through my body, and I could still feel the traces of Luke's fingers against my skin. What a bizarre, frustrating, sad night.

As I closed my eyes and tried to force my mind away from Luke and the kiss, my hand closed around my wrist, seeking out the familiar bracelet that always helped to calm me. Panic seized me when all I felt was skin.

I bolted upright, wide awake once more. I flicked on my phone torch and looked at my wrist under the light. It was bare. I turned out my sleeping bag, flipped over the air mattress, and scrambled through my stack of clothing. Nothing.

My bracelet was gone. I'd lost it somewhere in the cave. It was the one item I had left that reminded me of Dad, that gave me strength when I needed it, and I'd lost it.

Tears pricked at my cheeks. I buried my face in my hands. _You're an idiot, Anna. This is what happens when you let your emotions take over. You have to stay away from that ranger, for your own good._

## Chapter Four

# Luke

After my encounter with Anna, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, my body surging with desire for her. The connection between us called me to her, and it was all I could do to prevent myself throwing open the flap of my tent and running naked across the camp to find her.

Probably not the best look, if Frances or Ruth caught me.

I'd hoped the kiss would dissipate some of the sexual tension between us, but instead, it had turned up the heat. But as soon as she'd stiffened up, I'd realised we had to stop. I knew it was a bad idea. It was bad for her because she had to suck up to Professor Doyle for her grades, and because there was clearly something in her past that made her cautious around me. And it was especially bad for me because I needed to stay on high alert for other wolves, and I had to find and destroy the paintings, something that was going to be hard as long as Anna was keeping her eye on me.

But maybe now she would pull back. It had taken everything within me to pull away from her, and I could see the disappointment and embarrassment written all over her face as we'd walked back to the camp. I hated the idea she thought I didn't want her, but I was used to being thought of as a bastard, so it made sense, even if it was messing with my hormones, big time.

_Your hormones... or your heart._ The thought made the itch flare against my skin. I growled and scratched furiously at my legs, but the itch didn't subside. I didn't want to think about Dad, or how much I missed him, or how much I wished I could talk to him about Anna.

The full moon was two days away. I rolled over, punching the sleeping bag cover stuffed with clothes that served as my pillow in an attempt to form the lumps into a comfortable shape. Even though my head burned with barely concealed pain, my veins still pulsed with desire. Several long, grey hairs pricked through my skin, sticking up out of my arms and back like porcupine quills. _Get control of yourself, Lowe,_ I scolded myself, rubbing in vain at the itch on my neck. _This will only get worse._

At some point I must've fallen into an agitated sleep, for the next morning I woke with a start, my mind reeling from a dream in which I was chasing my father through a forest, only to burst into a clearing to find him and Anna kissing.

_You're going nuts,_ I told myself, trying to shake off the images. My dreams always got vivid and disturbing close to the full moon. Usually I paid them no heed, but my father's death was still too raw in my consciousness for his appearance not to affect me.

The pain of his absence gripped me like a vice. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders, trying to will it away, but it pulsed just below my skin, a nagging, hopeless desire to see him again. I wished he could be here with me, telling me the stories about his childhood here in the forest. I wished he could give me some advice about what to do about this intense physical longing now I'd found my mate. I longed to introduce him to Anna, and listen to them talk about books all night long...

But none of that would ever happen. I had to face that fact, and move on.

I threw off the covers, pulled on my work trousers and shrugged on my coat. I wasn't going to sit here and think about it.

The rain had returned during the night, and it pelted me in huge drops as I emerged, bleary eyed, from my tent. The rest of the team were already in the caravan. I could see them moving around through the windows. I pulled the hood over my face and jogged through the trees towards them.

_He's dead. He's dead._

A flash of memory. The first time my dad ever took me hunting. We were living in the Black Forest in Southern Germany, and I had just turned eight. When the full moon claimed us, instead of hiding me in our cabin while he went out alone, Dad took me deep into the woods, further than I'd ever gone before. Strange scents overwhelmed me, but he showed me how to discern different trails and map the forest with my nose. We sat together on top of a hill and watched the stars move across the sky.

"Your grandparents are up there somewhere," he told me, pointing with his snout to the Milky Way smudged across the deep sky. "They're shining down on us, along with the rest of the Lowe pack. We're the last ones left, Luke."

"We don't need anyone else." I hated how wistful he sounded, how lonely. I wasn't lonely. I had him.

He'd ferreted out a rabbit from amongst the brambles, and I'd chased it along a ridge before cornering it by the river and killing it with a single bite to the throat. I remembered the way the adrenaline coursed through me, my heart pounding in my ears as I closed in for the kill.

As we enjoyed our feast that night, Dad offered me the choicest haunch. "I am proud of you, Luke. You will be a fine wolf. One day, perhaps you will be the one to make the Lowe pack great again. If anyone could, it would be you."

_It would be you._

I spun around, and slammed my fist into the nearest tree trunk. Pain cracked across my knuckles, but the sting tore me back to reality, away from the memories. I glanced up at the sky, just visible through the bare branches. A few lonesome stars twinkled against the early morning haze.

_I'm here now, Dad. I promise you I will succeed. I won't let our family legacy be one of dishonour._

I sucked in a breath. _Time to get over feeling sorry for yourself, Luke._ I needed to have all my wits about me if I was going to get back to destroy the paintings without arousing suspicion. And I needed to keep my cool around Anna. It was better for both of us if we didn't get involved.

I pushed open the caravan door. Ruth and Frances looked up from the table, one giving me a gleaming smile, the other, a disdainful look. Anna's eyes flicked briefly to mine, and then she glanced away, suddenly engrossed in her porridge. Not wanting to make her more uncomfortable, I took a seat at the opposite end of the table, and intentionally provoked Ruth into a conversation about fossil fuels. If Anna was going to play at ignoring me, then I could follow her lead.

## Chapter Five

# Anna

All through breakfast, I kept sneaking looks over at Luke. He sat down at the opposite end of the table, and was hanging off Ruth's every sycophantic word. _He's forgotten about the kiss awfully quick,_ I thought angrily. _He's obviously going to have no trouble bouncing back._

If only things were so easy for me. After last night's kiss, I realised how ready I was to move on, to attempt to date again, to maybe make myself vulnerable. Ben wasn't coming back. The grief had dulled from the roar in my ears, the relentless voice screaming over every interaction, _He's dead, he'll never hold you, or kiss you, or make you laugh ever again._ I no longer stood in the supermarket queue and failed to comprehend how everyone around me was just going on as normal. Didn't they understand what had happened? Didn't they know I had lost the one guy who loved me? Didn't they know my whole world had stopped?

But now I was ready to hit play again. I wanted to thaw the numbness in my veins, to unclench my body and _feel_ again. But I had to be careful who I trusted with that. I wanted so badly for it to be Luke, but watching him flop his hair out of his eyes while he laughed at Ruth's inane jokes, I realised it couldn't be him. He was probably the world's greatest shag, but didn't know how to be that person for me.

"I'm finished." I pushed back my chair. The words sounded hard, final.

"Alright." Frances grabbed my bowl and frowned at the pile of porridge I'd left behind. "Don't go into the caves until I'm ready to join you. We're not allowed there by ourselves—"

"I know." I shoved the door open, cringing as it banged against the side of the caravan. I hadn't meant to push it that hard.

"Anna, wait," Luke called out to me, but I raced across the camp without looking back.

I took my toothbrush and a cup of water and brushed my teeth behind my tent. Then, I went over to the artefact storage and started work on cataloguing some of the artefacts from the previous week. We were always behind on cataloguing – it was supposed to be done in the evenings, but after a hard day on my knees in the cave and then chewing my way through one of Frances's "meals" (and I use the term in its loosest possible sense), it's much more appealing to curl up with a beer and a book.

I pulled up the chair behind the small desk and started transferring notations from our notebooks into the database we'd been creating. The mundane work started to calm me, to ease away the tension in my nerves. But then, just as I thought I was ready to face the day again...

"Anna."

His voice sent a shiver through me. I could feel the weight of his body in front of me, the way the air around me seemed to shift to accommodate him. Goosebumps appeared along my arms that had nothing to do with the cold.

I didn't look up from the laptop. "Go away, Luke. I have to concentrate on this work."

"You're angry with me."

"I'm not." I tried to keep my voice even. "I'm just busy."

"You just feel the sudden urge to catalogue artefacts at six thirty-three in the morning?"

"Yes. I've had two cups of coffee. I need to burn off the energy."

"If you're feeling wired, I can think of a much more enjoyable way to burn it off." That familiar smirk had crept back into his voice.

I looked up at him then, setting my face into an angry line. "You were the one who broke things off last night. So you don't now get to come over here and flirt with me like nothing ever happened."

"I was just teasing." He grinned. "It's nice to see you reacting. I knew there was a lioness beneath that geeky exterior. Besides, we both decided it was better to leave things be last night."

"If you say so." I rubbed a fleck of dirt off the edge of a fox bone.

"You're not wearing your bracelet."

I glared at Luke, my hand falling over my empty wrist. Old habits die hard. "I was informed it was a health and safety risk. So now it's not a problem."

"If this site is going down for violations, it won't be because of that bracelet. Go put it on, seriously. I won't tell."

"I can't." The words choked in my mouth. "I lost it in the cave last night."

"What? Why didn't you say anything?"

"It doesn't matter." I kept my eyes glued on the fox bone. I didn't want him to see the tears brimming in the corners of my eyes. Having Luke see me cry once was embarrassing enough.

"Looking at your face right now, I can tell that isn't true." Luke leaned over the table. His scent overwhelmed me, that rich, earthy smell that spoke of wildness and untamed lust.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't get any words out without bursting into tears. So I said nothing. The space between us felt non-existent, inconsequential. Heat from his body leapt at me, like flames dancing under the moonlight.

"Anna?" Luke prompted, his face wearing an expression of recognition. The sight of it shocked me. I was so used to people looking at me with pity. _Poor Anna... her daddy was crushed in a factory accident... poor Anna, her boyfriend fell into a ravine and cracked his head open... poor Anna, everyone she loves seems to die on her... poor Anna..._

But Luke's face didn't say _poor Anna._ It said, _I get it._ I wondered if he'd put two and two together from the way I'd reacted when he'd asked about my parents. But that look... it told me he'd been there. He understood. He'd lost someone close to him, too. The pain sat close to the surface, just under his skin. He still saw their face in his dreams, and still remembered things to tell them, as though they'd just popped out to get the milk.

"I—" I wanted so badly to confide in him. The words were on the tip of my tongue. I pushed out a breath, trying to push the words out as well.

"Oh, Luke!" Ruth called out. The spell between us broke. I jerked my head back, seeing Ruth waving her arms madly in an attempt to get Luke's attention. "Come with me and I show you that really interesting fungus I was telling you about."

Luke cast a look back at me. He sighed. "I have to go." The fact he looked so annoyed about it made my heart soar.

"Yeah."

"But we'll talk later, okay?"

"Sure." My stomach clenched. I wasn't sure he was ready for what I had to tell him, but maybe if I scared him away with all my heavy shit, it would solve my Luke problem once and for all.

I wasn't quite ready to brave Ruth's over-the-top flirting, so I stayed in the shed, listening to the rain hammer against the roof while I scrawled notes in our field book and typed frantically into the database. Tin sheds are extremely useful objects with many potential applications, but creating cosy workspaces was not one of them. After forty-five minutes of blistering cold wind howling across the desk and trying to thaw the pen nib against the tips of my fingers so I could continue writing, I'd had enough. The others would all be in the cave by now, which was at least sheltered from the wind. If I had to be miserable, I might as well be miserable in the cave, with a trowel in my hand.

_You never know. You could find a buried treasure. Wouldn't that make Ruth's face red?_

With that image cheering me up somewhat, I bundled up in my jacket, gloves and scarf, found my trowel, and headed over to the caves. The rain came down in thick sheets, slamming against the exposed skin of my cheeks as I struggled to run in all my layers. For the first time, I felt relieved as I got down on my knees and slid through the muddy tunnel entrance into the cave.

"Nice of you to join us, Anna." Ruth gave me a smug look as she punched buttons on the theodolite. Luke stood in front of her, holding up the measuring staff. He grinned when he saw me. I didn't return the smile. Instead, I went to my quadrant and started scraping down the next layer. My trowel made a reassuring slap against the damp earth – a sound I fantasized I would hear if I decided to slap Ruth's snotty mouth.

The day dragged on for an eternity. An icy wind shot through the tunnel, burrowing through my layers of wool and nylon and chilling my bones. I waited for a chance to escape to the back tunnel and look for my bracelet, but Frances was so intent on her work, she kept going right through lunch. Luke ignored me all day, the bastard. Instead, he helped Ruth operate the theodolite, even laughing at her inane jokes about whales and seamen.

"... oh, you'll love this one. I learned this one at a Save the Whales rally in London. What's Moby Dick's father's name? Paper Boner." She threw back her head and let out a high-pitched giggle. Luke gave a short laugh.

"Gag me with spermaceti," I whispered under my breath. After what he'd said to me this morning, the way he'd looked at me, I thought Luke was trying to be my friend, or my... something. But then he was over there with Ruth, not even looking in my direction. He could've offered to help me in my square.

As the day wore on, Luke and Ruth's obvious flirting grated me more and more. By 4pm, my whole body shook with rage. _How dare he make me feel like this? How dare he put on this ridiculous display in front of me? He was the one who was walking around the caves at night, he was the one who kissed me, he caused me to lose my bracelet..._

At the thought of my bracelet, my stomach twisted with fear. That was the most precious thing I owned, more precious even than my first edition of _Stranger in a Strange Land_. If I'd lost it in the mud, I'd never forgive myself. I was going to have to sneak back there, completely on my own.

The thought sent me into a spasm of fear. I'd been to all the pre-excavations safety lectures. I knew how dangerous caves could be. And I knew, better than anyone, what could happen when someone ignored safety precautions and forged ahead on their own. But I _had_ to find that bracelet. I just _had_ to.

Frances started packing up for the day. Heart pounding, I helped her clean off and pack up the tools, trying not to look in Luke's direction. He gave me a short nod as he walked by, following Ruth back to camp with the theodolite slung over his shoulder like it was a school satchel. I didn't nod back. At least I didn't have to contend with him right now.

I helped Frances lug the last of our equipment out through the tiny entrance and lock the tools up in the safe. The rain had eased off a little, falling in a steady mist across the forest, but the wind still bit deep. My heart pounded. It was now or never.

"You did good work today, Anna," Frances said, pulling her mittens on over her stained fingers. "One more day on your quadrant and you'll be able to move to another area."

"I'm excited about that," I said, picking my words carefully. I pretended to pat down my pockets, searching for something. "My area isn't yielding much of interest."

"That's true for a lot of archaeology, unfortunately. It's not all dodging rolling boulders, dismantling booby traps and dragging up treasure." Frances smiled.

I held up my own stained hands. "Don't I know it? Listen, you go ahead. I'll be right back. I just realised, I left my trowel behind. I don't want it to get lost."

Frances shrugged her shoulders. "Leave it. You can get another one in the morning."

"It's just... I really liked that trowel. It's the last one left with the left-handed grooves." I glanced back at the caves. "Go on. Don't worry about me. I'll only be a moment. I know exactly where it is."

"I'll go back with you." Frances grabbed her torch from her belt.

"No!" Frances glanced at me in concern. I grinned, realising I'd yelled too loudly. _Way to play it smooth, Anna. You're no good at this subterfuge stuff._ "I mean, there's no sense both of us going back in there and getting all dirty again."

"I'm not supposed to let anyone on the site by themselves. Luke could shut us down."

"Luke is already back at camp with Ruth," I said, her name coming out more sarcastically than I'd intended. "He'll never know. I could have been back by now, and you could be sitting down to a nice hot cup of tea."

"You're right. Sure." Frances didn't look sure. But she peered over my shoulder again. Luke hadn't looked back. Frances tossed me her torch. "If you're not back at site in ten minutes, I'm going to be very angry."

"Thanks." I bolted back towards the cave. _Ten minutes._ Just enough time to go back to that cavern and look for my bracelet. I slid down the cave entrance, clicked on the torch to fight the deepening gloom, splashed across the small stream, and carefully picked my way through the site back to the crevice.

Squeezing through the tiny gap, I found myself again in that familiar cavern, the dark mouth of the adjoining cave gaping at me from my left. I shone the light of Frances's torch over all the rocks, but I couldn't see my bracelet. Panic rose in my throat. The clasp probably got broken when the bat was thrashing around in my hair. That meant it had to be around somewhere.

_Or, it fell into the water with the torch._ Tears sprang in the corners of my eyes. I shone my light into the pool, but couldn't see anything shining back through the murky water. _No, don't give up just yet. Keep looking._

I scanned the rocks again, moving in a grid pattern, searching every inch. It definitely wasn't there in front of the pool. Perhaps it had fallen off closer to the mouth of that tunnel Luke was inspecting...

I walked over to the tunnel entrance, shining my light across the ground, inspecting the edges of the tunnel for crevices or shelves it could have fallen onto. With every step the knot in my stomach tightened. _It's not here. Why isn't it here?_

A lump rose in my throat. To prevent myself from breaking down into tears, I tried to distract myself by wondering about Luke. Why had he come back here in the first place? I crept closer into the cave and peered inside. _He'd almost seemed as if he'd been looking for something. And he'd been carrying a crowbar... it just didn't make sense._

I stepped inside the cave, stooping to fit under the low ceiling. The floor sloped away from me. If I'd dropped the bracelet here, it might have slid deeper into the tunnel. It was worth checking while I was here. I might not get another chance.

_That's probably how Dad justified lifting the guard on that machine,_ a voice inside my head railed. _And how Ben decided to climb along that ravine without the right equipment._

My stomach turned at the thought, but I couldn't bear the idea of being without that bracelet. I just had to be careful. I moved forward, carefully testing where I placed my boots, using the wall to support my weight. One wrong move here, and I was in deep trouble.

_You shouldn't be here,_ I scolded myself. _This is so dangerous. If you slipped and hit your head, they wouldn't know where to find you. Like father, like daughter..._

My light caught something bright on the wall. _What was that?_ I shone the torch up at eye level, and nearly dropped it in surprise.

I was staring at a cave painting. And not just any cave painting, one of the most elaborate examples I'd ever seen. The wall had been smoothed out – you could see the tool marks at the edges – and the surface cleaned and painted with a grey hue to serve as a background for the work.

And what work it was! I moved my torch across the wall and over the ceiling, taking in all the details. In the top corner, a family of wolves hunted in the forest. Towering trees rose up around them. They had a hare surrounded. A larger wolf advanced upon it while three smaller wolves – the cubs? – guarded its back, preventing escape.

Another scene showed the wolves sitting and lying on some rocks. In the middle of the rocks was a black circle. The cave entrance? Did the early cave dwellers observe wolves in the woods?

The next scene was the strangest of all. It looked to me like the wolves standing up on two legs, and one of them was not really a wolf any longer, but a man, with shaggy hair and human eyes. He wore dark shoes and walked like a man, but he still had a tail and paws and claws and a snout like a wolf.

In the next scene, humanoid figures hunted the wolves, holding sticks set alight. The wolves ran onward, away down the dark tunnel. In the corner was a woman with long, wild hair. She was weeping, her tears forming a river that cascaded off into the distance. I held my torch up and shone it downward. I could make out the gleam of more paintings further down the tunnel. The place was absolutely covered with ancient art.

My mind reeled. _This is incredible._ I was standing amongst some of the most elaborate, ancient, and well-preserved cave paintings in the world. This might be the most important neolithic discovery ever made in England. And I had discovered it. Me, Anna Sinclair, nerdy archaeology student and science-fiction nut.

_Or did you?_ My mind shot back. _Why had Luke come back here the other night? Was this what he was looking for?_

The thought unnerved me. It was a big coincidence that Luke had been looking in this tunnel the day before I happened to discover these paintings. But that only presented me with more questions. How did Luke know the paintings were here? These tunnels were unexplored. There's no way paintings this elaborate had been discovered and documented without being known to Frances. And if Luke did somehow suspect the paintings were there, why was he carrying that crowbar? Was he planning to destroy them?

Two things were for certain. I'd just made a brilliant archaeological discovery, the kind of discovery that could define my entire career. And there was definitely something our new ranger wasn't telling me.

## Chapter Six

# Luke

I gritted my teeth against Ruth's onslaught of inane conversation, and kept my eyes on the caravan door. After a few moments, Frances stepped through and kicked off her muddy boots. But Anna didn't follow her.

"Where's Anna?" I demanded. Ruth shot me a filthy glance from behind the stack of vegetables she was chopping.

Frances stammered out a response. "She's... just gone back... to pick up a trowel she dropped."

"Back to the toolbox? Or into the caves?"

Frances shifted her weight from foot to foot. "In the cave. But she's perfectly safe—"

"You're not supposed to allow _anyone_ in those caves alone, not even for a moment," I scolded her, as I shoved my chair back. My chest tightened. Anything could've happened to Anna. "This is ridiculous. I've already warned you about this. I could have you shut down for this."

"She was just going back to get a trowel," Max said, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "What's the big deal?"

"She's very forgetful and clumsy," Ruth said, relinquishing the dinner prep to Frances with a look of resigned disgust.

"I don't care if she's Saddam fucking Hussein." I grabbed a torch from the shelf by the door of the caravan and shoved my feet into my boots. "I'm not going to let her bleed to death after falling down a chasm while you all sit here badmouthing her." I jabbed the torch at Frances's chest. "When I get back, we're going to have a little chat."

She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it quickly when I fixed her with a glare. "I'll come with you," she said in a small voice, handing the knife back to Ruth.

"Fine." I stormed back towards the cave, my heart pounding against my chest. The idea of Anna down there, alone, filled me with dread. I shouldn't have tried to distance myself from her today. I'd just wanted to give her space to think, even though being away from her made my whole body ache with need, and my ears rang from being in close proximity to Ruth's incessant chatter. _I should never have let her out of my sight for a moment._

_What if she's hurt? What if she's disappeared? What if another wolf has turned up?_ The pain of losing my dad was still raw under my skin. I couldn't bear to lose my mate, too.

_What if she discovered the paintings?_ At that moment, I wasn't even sure I cared any more. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. Visions of her body bent and broken against the rocks surged against my eyes. I jogged faster.

Footsteps crunched in the leaves behind me. "Luke, wait up." Frances sprinted up alongside me. I grunted at her, but didn't slow down. At least with Frances out here with me, Ruth would be inside cooking dinner and it might be in at least some way edible.

"There she is!" Frances pointed, her pinched features softening.

And sure enough, there was Anna, jogging across the forest towards us, her auburn ponytail bouncing along behind her, and her shapely thighs undulating even under her layers of thermal gear. Relief washed over me. My arms ached to crush her against my body, to hold her tight and never let her go.

Anna stopped running when she caught sight of us, and waved frantically for us to follow her back to the cave. "You won't believe this!" she cried out. "It's amazing."

_Shit._

Anna was an archaeologist. The only time archaeologists ever got that excited was a) when the local pub did an Indiana Jones–themed quiz night, and b) when they discovered some incredible remnant of a lost civilisation. A remnant like a cave filled with intricate paintings.

Before I could stop her, Frances dashed towards Anna, her skinny arms swinging like chicken legs, her archaeological discovery radar going off the charts. "What is it?"

"It's in the caves. Quickly, you have to see. You won't believe it!"

Frances overtook Anna and squeezed through the tiny mouth of the cave. Anna made to follow her but I grabbed her, pulling her close to me. Her eyes were wild, dazed by what she had seen.

"What were you doing, going into the caves all by yourself?" I demanded.

"Oh, I don't know. That same thing you were doing," she shot back. _Fine._ I deserved that.

"So, did you find them?" I covered up my concern for her with a sneer.

"Did I find the mysterious cave paintings you knew about all along? Of course I did. What I want to know is, how did _you_ know they were there?"

"I meant your trowel. That was why you went back into the cave in the first place, according to Frances." I glanced down at her hand. "You don't have it with you."

"No. I dropped it in the cave. I was quite surprised, you see."

"I'd believe you. Except that I saw it sitting at the back of Frances's toolbox. Yours has the red handle, doesn't it?"

"That's my spare," Anna said, her eyes darting nervously.

"You didn't drop your trowel. You were looking for your bracelet."

"So what if I was? It was your fault I lost it."

"How do you figure that? If you're going to blame anyone, I'd be pointing fingers at Ozzy Osbourne's friend who got tangled in your hair."

"If you hadn't been snooping where you didn't belong, I wouldn't have followed you, and none of this would've happened. Go on, Luke, tell me why you were hunting for the paintings with a crowbar in your hand?"

"You seemed so timid yesterday," I said grinning, trying to distract her. This wasn't the time to tell her about my family secrets. "Where did this lioness come from?"

"She was provoked," Anna growled, but the corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile.

"Come on, Anna," Frances yelled from the cave entrance. "You've got to show me what you found!"

"I've got to go," she said.

"Going to get Frances to help you find that missing trowel?"

"Exactly."

"You're a really horrible liar." I sighed, releasing her.

"Takes one to know one. I ask you again, how did you know those paintings were there?" she demanded. "That section of the cave has been completely unexplored."

"I know they were there because I am descended from the person who drew them."

Her eyes regarded me. "But that doesn't make any sense. Those drawings are tens of thousands of years old. How can you—"

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm the archaeologist here. Of course I'm sure." But she frowned slightly. "You're not making any sense, Luke."

She rubbed her forearms. She was still wearing the clothes she wore on the dig – a flannel work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Now that the sun had set, the frigid air caused goose pimples to raise along her arms.

"You're cold." I shrugged off my jacket, and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Come on, back to camp with you."

"No way. I've got to show Professor Doyle these paintings, and you need to tell me what's going on."

I opened my mouth, the words on the tip of my tongue. Staring into those eyes, that had yesterday been so reserved but now sparkled with life and defiance, and feeling the heavy thrum of our connection pulsing through my veins, I hoped I was making the right decision in trusting her.

"Anna!" Frances yelled from the cave. Anna glared at me pointedly.

"Later," I whispered. "Tonight. Meet me by that rotting oak stump where the road meets the hiking trail. I have something to show you."

She nodded, and whirled around, sliding down into the cave and disappearing into the gloom. I followed her, my stomach in knots. What the fuck would I do now?

## Chapter Seven

# Anna

I shifted from foot to foot, my teeth chattering even through my thick jacket. Where was Luke? Why did he want me to meet him here, nearly half a kilometre from the campsite?

It had been an eventful evening, and my body ached with weariness. I'd taken Frances down to show her the paintings and as predicted, she was suitably awed. "This discovery is going to make my name!" she screeched, hugging me so tight she cut off circulation to my arms. She'd insisted on getting Ruth and Max back to the site with the camera, tripod, and floodlights to take some preliminary shots, while I spent an hour on the satellite phone to Professor Carter – the department head at Loamshire University – describing the find for a press release to go out the next day.

"You'll need to send through some photos," he'd said, his voice tight with excitement. "As crisp and hi-res as possible. It's going on the website tomorrow."

"Professor Doyle is taking some now," I'd replied. "They'll be in your inbox first thing." I stifled a yawn as I jammed a power bar into my mouth. Frances was too busy on the site to bother cooking dinner, which was at least a small blessing.

After the phone call, I had to go back to the cave, where I spent another couple of hours helping Max reposition the lights to get the best possible shots. Frances finally called it quits at 11pm, giving me just enough time to eat another power bar, clean my teeth and pull on some clean-ish, dry-ish clothes to go and meet Luke.

And now here I was, my bones aching with cold, my mind reeling with fantastical theories, and he wasn't even here.

Disappointment surged through me. Here I was, getting my hopes up about this guy, thinking he understood what I was going through, but he was just playing me. He was probably watching me from his tent, laughing at how pathetic I was. My cheeks burned. Screw this. I was going to bed—

Footsteps crunched through the forest behind me. A few moments later, Luke emerged from the trees, his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his jacket, his breath coming out in hot steam. Under the moonlight, he looked even better – the gloomy night only seemed to highlight his strong features and wild eyes.

"Well," I said, struggling to speak through my chattering teeth. "I'm here, freezing my tits off. What's your explanation?"

"You will catch your death out here," he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to his chest. Instantly, his body warmth radiated through my jacket. I wanted to tell him to let me go, but I was far too cold and he smelt so, so good.

"You were the clever one who chose this spot. The faster you talk, the sooner we can go back to your tent—" My face flushed with heat as I realised what I'd said. "I mean, our tents. _Our_ tents."

Luke laughed, his husky voice reverberating through my whole body. Damn, he was gorgeous when he laughed.

"Fine. I'll get right down to it. Those paintings aren't neolithic."

"How do you know that?"

"Because my grandmother painted them."

"What?" That didn't make any sense. "But how did she manage that? This cave wasn't even discovered until five years ago."

"Wrong. It was inhabited by my family for at least two centuries before that." Luke's green eyes bore into mine. "Anna, I'm going to tell you something that's so profoundly unbelievable, you're going to think I'm crazy. But I assure you I'm not. And I need you to just wait for me to finish explaining, and I promise I'll show you all the proof you need. Okay?"

"Can't we do this back at the camp, where it's warm?" I balled my hands into fists and pulled them up into my sleeves. But it was no good. My fingers were quickly losing all their feeling.

"I can't risk anyone else overhearing. And you can't tell the others what I say, either." He pulled out my hands and sandwiched them between his own. The heat was so intense, the ends of my fingers tingled. "Do you promise?"

"Promise what?"

"Not to breathe a word of this to anyone?"

"Fine, fine." My face was going numb. "Just tell me."

Luke took a deep breath. "I'm a werewolf."

I snorted. _He can't be serious?_ I yanked my hands away, showing my fingers back into my sleeves. "You brought me out here, in the middle of sub-zero temperatures, to make up some stupid campfire horror story."

"It is no story. I am a werewolf." Luke stepped back, bracing himself against the rotting oak. "Watch."

I glared at him, wanting to turn away and leave him there in the cold. But curiosity ate away at me. I wanted to know what his game was, why he was trying to grab me with this cock-and-bull story.

Luke locked eyes with me, his gaze intense. At first, nothing happened. But then I noticed his face was changing. The bones beneath his skin seemed to be moving, elongating his nose, rearranging his cheekbones, flattening his skull. His ears moved back on his head, the lobes growing up and outward. His eyes remained locked on mine as his chin and nose joined in a snout, his teeth curving down into two long, sharp canines.

_What is going on? What is happening?_

Luke dropped to the ground, standing on all fours. His clothing tore from his body as the muscles in his shoulders bulged, reaching up to fuse with his neck, throwing his head back at an impossible angle. His back arched, and his legs and arms bent and shifted, the knees snapping backward with a crack.

_This cannot be happening._ My whole body went rigid with fear, my heart hammering against my chest. I staggered backward, preparing to run. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from the incredible scene before me.

Luke threw back his head and howled, the sound echoing through the silent night. What stood before me was no longer the handsome ranger who'd held me against his warm skin. It was a grey wolf, its eyes regarding me with cool, calculating precision. It stuck out a pink tongue and licked along its lips, revealing a row of sharp, white teeth.

My heart leapt in my throat. I fought through my terror, turned on my heel, and ran back towards the camp. Behind me, the leaves crunched as the creature took chase. I poured on speed, my body screaming with protest. Those long, razor-sharp canines flashed across my vision. At any moment, it would be close enough to pounce—

"Anna, wait!"

Luke's voice. I dared a glance back over my shoulder, and saw him running through the trees towards me. Moonlight glinted off his body, his skin glistening with sweat. His hair had come free, and it trailed behind him in the breeze.

He was completely naked.

_Shit._ I slowed, still moving towards the camp. "Don't come any closer."

"Please, Anna. I'm sorry for scaring you." He stopped in his tracks, planting his bare feet in a wide, powerful stance. I stopped also, leaning forward on one foot, ready at any moment to dart away. My heart pounded against my chest. Had I really just seen him turn into a wolf? Maybe it was my imagination playing tricks on me. Some kind of mirage caused by the moonlight? Maybe Ruth had snuck hallucinogenic drugs into my tea?

"Luke?" I gasped out.

He didn't say anything, just fixed his beautiful green eyes on mine.

I looked down, not wanting to stare into his eyes any more. Big mistake. My gaze fell on his naked hips, covered with more tattoos of wolves howling and tigers stalking across his taut muscles. His cock stood out between his legs. He was huge. And rock hard.

My whole body pulsed with excited energy. Even though I was terrified, my body wasn't. It was flushed with heat, as though some primal aspect of me was aroused by seeing Luke hard for me.

Luke was hard for _me_.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Okay, fine." I took a few shaky breaths. "So you're a werewolf. How does it work?"

"Werewolves have existed alongside humans for tens of thousands of years, probably much longer," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "It's a genetic trait, passed on from parents to cubs. The dominant genes pass through the male line. There are very few female werewolves – most of us choose a human mate who carries the necessary genes to create wolven cubs."

"That's... interesting." I gulped, wondering why he was looking at me so intensely as he spoke of mates.

"I can shift whenever I want, as you've just experienced. When I shift, I'm in complete control of myself. It's still my human mind, just in the body of a wolf. Werewolves live longer than humans – about a hundred and fifty years. I also have a lot of primal, animal instincts," he glanced down at his hardness, and when he looked up, he was grinning. "As you can clearly see. But I would never hurt you, or anyone else. I'm still me underneath all the fur."

"Then why did you chase after me?"

"Because you ran," he said simply. "And because I don't want to let you get away."

"That sounds an awful lot like a threat."

"It's not meant to be threatening." Luke wiggled his crotch suggestively. "It's meant to be sexy."

The corners of my mouth twitched up into a faint smile. "So the thing about wolves and the full moon isn't true? You don't just change as soon as the moon rises?"

"Oh, it's true." Luke's face darkened. "Everything I've just told you changes when the moon is full. Then, I have no choice about the shift. I become a wolf, and I have no control over my behaviour. I am a wild beast, unbeholden to anyone, not even my own conscience. That is why I work as a ranger. When the full moon approaches I can retreat into the forests for days, and live out the curse without hurting anyone until I become human again."

"Suppose I believe that you're a werewolf—"

"I am."

"Fine. You're a werewolf. I don't understand what this has to do with the caves."

"The caves were the home of my family, the Lowe pack," Luke said. "The pack controlled much of the Crookshollow territory. They would come here to these caves during the full moon to live out their wildness, where they wouldn't injure anyone in the village. Most werewolf packs have a safe place in the wilderness to go as a family during the full moon. Those places are fiercely guarded by the pack to prevent other wolves coming in and claiming them as their own territory."

"That makes sense."

"Fifty years ago, my father lived here with his pack – my grandparents, and his two brothers. Something awful happened. My father never spoke much of it, but from what little I gathered from him, there was an accident one night in the village. A baby was killed in its bed, mauled to death by a vicious animal that had got in through an open window above the cot. That same night, villagers had seen a wolf skulking around the town. The villagers put two and two together – they knew it had to have been someone in my family, as we were the only werewolf pack left in the area. And so they came to the caves with blades and torches, in search of the killer. They murdered my grandparents and uncles in revenge for the killing. Only my father survived."

"How?"

"My grandmother was not a wolf, but a human woman with an artistic talent and an incredible prophetic power. She saw the villagers coming in a vision. My grandfather and his two oldest sons were out hunting, and so she could not warn them. Instead, she painted the last images on the wall, hoping they would see it when they got back to the cave. She then ran into the woods with her youngest cub, my father."

_The weeping woman in the picture._ "So now I'm supposed to believe there are such things as psychics?" I said, but as I watched his expression, my protests died away. The way he spoke of his family, his voice trembling ever so slightly when he talked about his father... as hard as it was for me to comprehend, I knew Luke spoke the truth.

"Oh, it's all true. Psychics, witches, werewolves, vulpines, bran..."

"Bran? Vulpines? Now you're just making words up."

"Bran are raven shapeshifters. Vulpines are fox shifters."

"You're kidding me." There was a whole smorgasbord of weirdness out there in the world.

"I am not. There are actually some pretty infamous vulpines and bran living in Crookshollow right now. This area attracts supernatural creatures and paranormal activity like you wouldn't believe."

I unfolded my arms, balling up my freezing hands and stuffing them into the cuffs of my jacket. "Okay. Fine. Let's say you've convinced me with your miraculous shapeshifting abilities, and I believe all this supernatural mumbo jumbo actually exists. Let's go back to this wild tale of yours. You said humans don't know werewolves exist. So how come they all came to the caves after your family?"

"Some humans do know. In fact, there were times on earth where most humans knew. Many of the Norse and Saxon gods of legend are actually famous shapeshifters. The Egyptian pantheon, too. Shifters were often considered to be powerful sorcerers and advisors and held positions of power. But since Europe became Christianized, shifters have realised it's better to remain hidden. Although there are still humans who know about us, especially in supernatural centres like Crookshollow. You've heard the stories about what used to go on there, the witch burnings and hauntings and such?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course I knew. The town had been playing up its supernatural past ever since I could remember, using it as a ploy to lure more tourists. My friend Derek loved this stuff; he was always dragging me to arcane bookstores or on some local ghost hunt.

"Well, many of those witches burned were actually werewolves. The witch trials were what drove the last of the wolven packs out of England, to the forests of the continent, or further abroad. But my family stayed. My great-grandfather and my grandfather loved this land and the people, and they wanted to hold it at any cost.

"There was a powerful family in the village – the Peytons. Robert Peyton was the local bishop, so he had a tremendous power over the county. He delivered infamous sermons calling down fire and brimstone upon all, that brought in people for miles around. Church attendance in Crookshollow skyrocketed, and so did a renewed intolerance for the supernatural. He hated my family for no reason other than what they were.

"Peyton's chance to rid Crookshollow of my pack came, when that child was killed in the village, torn apart by an animal mere days before its christening. Because of this horrible act, Peyton incited the village against my family. He called down from the pulpit that we were the children of Satan – shapeshifting demons who came into the village at night and took their children. The fact the child hadn't been christened cinched the story. Peyton assembled a mob. They came for my family with pitchforks and torches. There was no trial, no evidence. They murdered my grandfather, my grandmother, and their two sons. My father was the only one who escaped with his life."

"That's horrible."

"That's life as a werewolf," Luke spat, his body shaking with anger. "Always on the outskirts, always running, always hiding and hoping your true nature isn't discovered."

"You showed me your true nature," I said, touching his arm. "I haven't run away yet."

"You tried."

"Of course I did. You had big scary teeth. But I'm not running away now. So who did kill the child?"

"That's just the thing," Luke said. "We never knew. My father carried this horrid guilt with him his entire life, as though he secretly believed one of his brothers might have done it. That's why we hid in the forests – he preferred to be alone, to escape the Lowe legacy, rather than to fight for it."

"So why did you come here?"

"My father died last month," Luke said, his voice catching. His words brought forth a wave of empathy more powerful than I'd expected. I knew all too well the pain he was going through, the burning anger at the universe, the memories that flooded you when you least expected them, the way you felt isolated from the rest of the world, part of a secret society you never wanted to join.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, wanting to say more, but not knowing what to say. Even people like me who'd lived with death for so long grew tongue-tied about other people's grief. It was the British way.

"It's okay, not your fault. He'd been ill for some time, but... I saw an article about the excavation in the paper. I showed it to him. I thought it might cheer him up to know that our old haunt might have some archaeological significance. But instead it drove him crazy. For days he rolled around in bed, halfway between sleep and waking, mumbling about the paintings and the curse of our family..." He choked. "The stress of it broke him; it allowed the cancer to take over. It was all my fault."

"Luke, no. It wasn't."

"You weren't there." His voice grew hard again. "You can't know. Only I know. The last words he spoke to me were 'Don't end up like me, Luke. Don't live your life paying for the mistakes of the past.' So I came here to bury the past forever."

"That's why you were in the caves with that crowbar? You were going to destroy the paintings?"

Luke nodded. "I knew that if you guys found them they'd get a ton of attention. My grandmother was fascinated by neolithic art – she deliberately used the same styles and pigments used to create ancient cave paintings. It tickled her that one day they might be thought to be older than they were. But there's no reason to bring up the whole story again, not now that everyone in the village has more or less forgotten it. It's not as if the paintings would be missed. They aren't archaeologically significant, which your professor is going to discover as soon as she does some in-depth analysis."

"But they're part of your history, your heritage. Doesn't that mean something?"

"Not everyone wants to hold on to the past," he said. "Only archaeologists."

"Not all archaeologists want to hold on to the past," I said, two faces flashing in front of my eyes – my father and Ben. "Some of us want desperately to forget."

"We have more in common than you'd like to admit," he said, a harsh sadness passing over his features briefly. In an instant, that grin was back on his face, the sadness he'd shown before erased in a moment, replaced by glimmering eyes and a cheeky smile. He stepped towards me, his muscles rippling as he moved.

"Can you point that thing somewhere else?" I asked, my cheeks flushing hot as my eyes fell once again on his rigid cock. I tried not to imagine how good it would feel to ride that.

"Why?" Luke said simply. "It's like that because of you."

"Er... I..."

Luke was on me in a moment, his powerful arms wrapping around my body, the heat of his hands pressing into my back. His hardness rubbed against my thigh, and an ache rumbled deep inside me, yearning for us to be closer still.

"We were discussing something really serious before," I said, desperately trying to buy myself time to think. Luke's scent intoxicated me, driving out any rational thought. There was a reason this was a bad idea... I just couldn't remember it right now.

"Just say the words," he whispered. "And I'll leave you alone. I've done it before, though it tore me up inside. But I want you, Anna. I want to feel you beneath me, writhing in ecstasy."

"Luke, I... I'm not sure..."

"Can I help you make up your mind?"

He pressed his lips to mine.

The touch sent a surge of heat through my body, an energy that reached from our lips right to my toes. My fingers tingled, my core throbbed with need.

God, he tasted so good. His soft lips mashed against mine, a hint of stubble above his lip scraping against my skin. His tongue slid against mine, wrapping around me with delicious warmth.

_This is a very bad idea,_ my brain screamed. _You barely even know this guy, and what little you know about him suggests he's an arrogant ass with an interest in destroying priceless archaeological discoveries. Not to mention the fact he's a werewolf. A werewolf. He could claw you to pieces—_

Unfortunately, Luke's intoxicating scent and delicious mouth dissolved the voice before it finished its thought. I drifted away, the chill in my limbs expelled by the heat of our embrace.

Without breaking our kiss, Luke scooped me up in his arms. He lifted me easily and started walking back towards the camp, his torn clothes lying somewhere in the forest behind him.

"Whose tent?" he whispered against my lips.

"Yours," I whispered back. "It's further away."

Luke picked his way through the forest with ease, holding me as though I weighed nothing. Every few steps, he stopped to clasp me to him, kissing me passionately. His hair fell over my face, tickling my skin. Occasionally, the voice in my head surfaced, reminding me that this was a bad idea, that I wasn't ready, that I would regret this in the morning. But all my protests dissolved in Luke's kisses and the thrumming energy that enveloped us, drawing our bodies together like magnets. Maybe my head wasn't ready, but my body couldn't wait to be naked beside him.

Inside his tent, Luke lay me down on the bed – an air mattress covered with two furs and an arctic sleeping bag. It looked like the boudoir of some kind of modern Viking. Luke grabbed his phone and pulled up an app of a flickering candle, which he placed on the ground beside the bed.

"For atmosphere," he grinned.

"If only it was a roaring fire," I said, my teeth chattering from the cold air.

Luke tugged off my boots, kissing the tops of my socks, and slid alongside me on the furs.

"Let's see if I can't do something to warm you up," he said, as he tore off my shirt. Buttons pinged against the canvas as he tossed the useless fabric aside. My bra was next. He snapped the straps right off as though they were made of pasta. His eyes gleamed as he gazed down at me.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he whispered, his gaze dancing over my body. I flushed with heat, his words pulsing through me. Luke buried his face in my neck, trailing a line of kisses over my skin. My body lit up under his touch as he dragged his teeth over the sensitive skin behind my ear. I moaned, dragging my fingers across his back, enjoying the way his muscles responded to my touch.

Luke's kisses trailed across my collarbone, and over the rise of my breast. He cupped my breast in his hand, pointing the nipple up towards his mouth. He blew against the sensitive bud. All the hairs on my body stood on end.

His eyes glued to mine, Luke bent down and sucked my nipple into my mouth. I cried out as the sensation arced through my chest. He nibbled and sucked, pulling each nipple into his mouth. In seconds, I was moaning against him, my whole body lit with sparks.

Luke pulled back, a cheeky grin lighting up his whole face. "I know it's hard," he said, as his fingers crept across my stomach towards the fly of my jeans. "But you're going to have to be quiet. Unless you want to wake up the entire camp to tell them what I've been doing to you."

"You sound awfully confident."

"I have good reason." Luke bent his head and took one of my nipples in his mouth again. I gasped as his warm tongue slid over my sensitive skin once more. _Damn him..._

I missed this. I missed the touch of a man, the warmth and intimacy of skin against skin. Locking eyes with a lover and feeling as though you were the only two people in the world. And when your lover was a werewolf...

"You're being so gentle," I told him as he dug his thumbs in the waistband of my jeans. Just having his fingers so close to my core made me ache harder. I bucked up my hips, urging him to go faster, but he didn't relent.

"Because I _know,_ " Luke murmured back, as he reached over my head and pulled a condom from his wallet. "Both of us are still reeling from the trauma of grief. I don't want to frighten you with my wolf nature. I want this to be good for you, so I'm controlling myself."

"Is that so?"

"If it's any consolation, I'm finding it bloody difficult," he growled, as he tore open the packet with his teeth and rolled the condom onto his shaft. "All I want is to be inside you, to ride you like the wolf I am."

That deep rumble in his voice made me shiver all over, and not from the cold. "What if I want to meet this wolf?"

"Are you sure about that?" Luke's eyebrows knitted together. He curled one of his fingers over the edge of my underwear and I groaned. "You can't take it back."

"I'm sure."

Luke groaned. He planted his lips against mine, but this time, the kiss wasn't tender. It was _fierce._ His tongue forced my lips apart. One hand remained hooked in my waistband, the other cupped my face, pulling me towards him.

The hunger in his eyes pulled me deeper. His warmth enveloped me. I became lost in the wildness of him.

Luke tore off my jeans and underwear and plunged his face between my legs. His tongue found that special spot, and he attacked it with all the ferocity of his feral form. The ache in my body intensified as he drew me closer to climax. Every hair stood erect, every nerve ending focused on the work of his tongue.

"Oh, Luke!" I dug my fingers into his hair.

In the flickering glow of his phone, I could just make out Luke's dancing eyes and wild grin, as he battered me with waves of pleasure. Sparks leapt from my skin, my whole body aglow with dazzling fireworks, my skin like molten lava flowing from my bones.

I came with a shudder, my entire body convulsing as the lava overflowed and buried me in heat. Red welts appeared in my eyes, and for a few moments the world completely vanished, replaced only by the roaring in my ears and the fire licking my veins. As the pleasure ebbed, leaving me sleepy and sated, Luke crawled up beside me, wrapping me in his arms, that grin of his wider than ever.

"Well, I guess I did tell you to be quiet," Luke laughed, holding up the edge of his fur. I flushed with embarrassment – I had torn a hole right through it.

"Don't be embarrassed. They say it's the geeky girls who turn into demons in bed." He planted his lips on mine. "I can't wait to find out."

As his tongue slid over mine, the ache between my legs returned, more persistent than ever. I wanted Luke just as much as he wanted me. Luke rolled me over, so I was lying on my stomach against the furs. He grabbed my hips with his hands, his fingers digging into my skin. I cried out with pleasure as he plunged me back against his cock, penetrating me with one quick motion.

I threw my head back, moaning as his whole length entered me, and we became one. I'd expected it to hurt, because of the size of him, and how long it had been for me, but all I felt was an incredible sense of fullness, of power. The sense that something inside us that had been searching for the other had finally been united.

Luke started to rock against me, one hand supporting himself, the other running over my skin, fingers drawing lines of fire across my back, down my arms, over the edge of my breasts. As he moved inside me, the ache gnawed at me, the pressure building once more.

As my body lit up beneath Luke's touch, my heart soared. Maybe it was the way Luke murmured my name as he drove into me. Maybe it was the hunger in his eyes, a hunger reserved for me. For the first time since Ben's death, I felt powerful, invincible, capable of anything. I was wild.

Luke rode me like the animal he was, leaning forward and crushing me against his body, his hands snaking over my skin. His teeth dragged across my neck, sending shivers of delight through my whole body. He thrust faster, building towards his own release. His cock stiffened, and the sensation of his impending orgasm drove me closer. The ache turned into a roar, and my body slipped over the edge once again, the lava bubbling up from inside my skin.

I started to cry out and the pleasure swept over me. "Bite me," Luke growled, holding his hand in front of my mouth. I bit down on the flesh of his thumb as the lava scorched my veins.

"Anna," Luke growled my name, his voice hitching as his whole body stiffened. He came with a mighty thrust, his cock reaching deep inside of me, touching every part of me. His eyelids fluttered shut and a few moments later, he collapsed beside me, his breathing hard.

"Fuck... " he gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Anna, that was incredible."

I flopped back against Luke's pillow, my body still tingling. Luke draped an arm across my naked chest, the weight of it reassuring. I waited for the joy to fade, for a sense of guilt to erode the tiny piece of freedom I had claimed back. But it didn't come. Ben's voice, for now, was silent.

"So..." I breathed. "This is what it's like to sleep with a werewolf."

Luke beamed. "Did it fulfill your wildest fantasies?"

"It was okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah." I grinned. "It needs practice."

"Oh, really?" Luke stroked the edge of my breast. "And are you offering to help me sharpen my skills?"

"I'm available any time you need, wolf." I settled back against his shoulder, listening to the rain pelt down on the roof of the tent. My eyes fluttered closed. For the first time since Ben had died, I felt ridiculously, gloriously happy.

## Chapter Eight

# Luke

I rolled over in the morning, my arm falling over Anna's sleeping body. She lay on her side, facing me. Her delicate features appeared relaxed and serene. A lock of hair fell over her eye, and a thin trail of drool extended from her mouth to the pillow.

I grinned. She looked so adorable. Heat radiated off her body, and the pull of our bond tugged between us. I shuffled closer, pressing my body against hers as the heat sizzled across our skin. The itch beneath my skin burned into hers. The full moon would begin today, and I needed to be well away from the camp. I couldn't predict how I'd behave now that Anna was my mate.

_My mate._ The thought sent a fresh shiver through me. I noticed a dark smudge on Anna's shoulder from where I'd bitten her, marking her as mine.

She _was_ mine. The thought sent a shiver of joy through my body. I reached out and grazed my fingers across her soft cheek. _I could stay like this all day..._

_... all day..._

For the first time, it occurred to me just how much light was streaming through the tent's canvas. I reached over her and grabbed her phone from on top of the torn remains of her jeans.

"Shit!" I grabbed Anna's shoulder and shook her. "Wake up. We overslept."

"Huh?" Anna opened one lazy eye. Upon seeing me beside her, she leapt out of bed, evidently forgetting she was wrapped up in a sleeping bag and managing to topple into the side of the tent.

"Luke, what are you... " her voice trailed off as the night evidently came back to her. "Shit."

"Shit is right," I shoved the phone under her nose. "We overslept. It's quarter past eight."

"Fuck." The curse word sounded so hot coming out of her full red lips. She scrambled around the bed, searching for her clothes. "I have to get out there. Frances has all these plans for uncovering the paintings today. I wasn't at breakfast so they're probably looking for me and—"

Her face fell as she held up her torn shirt. "You ruined my clothes," she moaned, grabbing the buttons from the tent floor and throwing them at me. "I can't believe this!"

I scratched at the itch crawling under my skin, biting back the urge to grab her, to throw her down on the bed and make her call out my name again. "I told you the wolf in me was too close to the surface. You didn't seem to care at the time."

"But _all_ my clothes?" Anna inspected the seams on her jeans with horror. "I have nothing to wear out there and all my clothes are in my tent and they will know—"

"So?" I squeezed her beautifully-shaped arse. "I don't care if they find out. Besides, I think you look much better without clothes."

" _I_ care." Anna's lower lip quivered. She looked dangerously close to crying.

"Hey, babe. Don't worry." I shuffled towards her, arms open. I wanted to find some way to make it right for her. "We'll find a way out of this."

"How?" Anna sniffed, turning away from me and balling up her hands with frustration. "I have to somehow get to my tent, by walking past the rest of the camp completely naked!"

I reached for a pair of boxer shorts, pulling them over my hard-on. From the look of terror on her face, it didn't look as though I'd be getting a repeat of last night any time soon. I tried a different tack. "I don't see the problem. We're consenting adults. We're allowed to shag, you know."

"They can't know," she whispered. "It... it will get back to the university. Everyone will talk about me. I can't deal with that."

Somehow I doubted that was really the reason, but I didn't call her out on it. This definitely wasn't the time.

"Just wait until the team has left for the site and sneak over." Then I remembered the way I'd yelled at Frances yesterday. She thought I was only one infraction away from shutting her site down. There's no way she'd risk leaving the camp until Anna and I presented ourselves.

"Can you run over to my tent and grab some clothes for me?" Her voice quivered.

"Oh, yeah." I grinned. "They're not going to suspect anything if they catch me rifling through your stuff. Here." I tossed her a shirt. "Put this on over your jeans, and tie your jacket on over the top. No one will see that it doesn't fit, and it's long enough to hide the tear in your jeans."

She stared at the shirt for a couple of moments, then grabbed it from my hands. "Great idea, thanks."

"See? I'm more than just a pretty face."

Anna pulled on all the clothes and shoved her feet into her boots. My body ached with disappointment to see her beautiful body covered up again, but she couldn't very well stay in my tent fucking all day. More's the pity.

"How do I look?" She smoothed my shirt down over her ruined jeans.

"Absolutely fucking gorgeous. Just a moment," I grabbed her just as she was lifting the flap of the tent and pulled her in for one last, lingering kiss. Her scent devoured me, the softness of her tongue against mine making me even harder. My veins burned with the itch of my inner wolf and the tug of the connection between us. I pulled back before I tore all her clothes off again. My cock jerked in protest. "Okay." I patted her arse. "Now run for it!"

Anna yanked the tent flap open and stepped outside. I grabbed the flap from her hand just as she let it fall, and watched her as she made her way towards her own tent... just as Ruth came around the corner, carrying a clipboard.

"Anna!" she called out. "You weren't at breakfast. You've got to get going. There's so much to do. Frances has a film crew arriving any minute. Where have you—" Her words died on her lips as her eyes fell on my face, and then dropped down over my body. Only then did I realise I was standing in the entrance of my tent, wearing only my boxers and an enormous erection, staring after Anna, who had very clearly just come _from_ my tent.

_Fuck._

"Well," Ruth smirked, her eyes flashing as she tapped her pen against her clipboard. "This _is_ interesting."

"I was... er... that was to say..." Anna stuttered. She was turned away from me, but I could see the back of her neck turning crimson.

Shame overwhelmed me. This was all my fault. Anna was so worried about making a good impression on Professor Doyle and I'd ruined it for her. My mind reeled. _Think, Lowe. You need to come up with some reason for her being in your tent._

"I've just been giving Miss Sinclair a private forest safety lecture," I explained, keeping my voice stern. "Of all the health and safety violations I've observed here on the site, hers has been the worst. Wandering into those caves at night unaccompanied?" I sneered at Anna. Her face crumpled. I wanted to run to her and wrap her in my arms, but I pressed on, desperate for Ruth to believe me. "It was irresponsible and could have ended very badly. So, I thought it best if Miss Sinclair underwent a practical experiment."

"I'm sure." That smirk hadn't left Ruth's face.

I glanced from Anna, to Ruth, and back again, then burst out laughing as though the awkwardness of the situation had just occurred to me. "Oh, I see what this looks like. You don't honestly think I'd be sleeping with _her,"_ I said, my voice dripping with disdain. "Rest assured, if I had a woman in my bed last night, you'd have heard her crying my name the whole length of the valley."

"Oh, I am sure." Ruth's mouth tugged at the corner.

"I am teaching Miss Sinclair about survival tactics, in case one found oneself lost in the forest and had to use one's clothes to create a shelter or make a signal. Unfortunately, Miss Sinclair was using her jacket as a shelter last night, and she tore her clothes on a bush, so I lent her some others rather than let her freeze." I pointed down at my rapidly deflating erection. "She just happened to catch me at a somewhat embarrassing moment, as you can see."

I was proud of my ingenious lie for solving the problem. Ruth looked disappointed, but at least somewhat convinced. When Anna turned around to face me, I was surprised to see her face red with fury. Her hands were balled at her sides. I'd just saved her arse, and she was pissed off. _Really_ pissed off.

"If you guys will excuse me," she said, her jaw clenched, her face flushing with anger.

I watched her stalk off towards her tent, desperate to go after her, but not able to with Ruth still watching. I ran over everything I'd said in my head, but couldn't come up with anything that might've triggered Anna's response. I remembered the way she'd shut down the other night, when I'd asked her about her father, and how worried she'd been when she woke up. I wondered if these things were connected.

The itch clawed at my skin, breaking me out of my thoughts. I had to get as far away from the camp as soon as possible. I'd already left it too late. I didn't want to leave while Anna was still mad at me, but I didn't have a choice. If she was pissed off with me now, there was no telling how upset she'd be if I tore apart the entire camp in a wolven frenzy.

Ruth batted her eyelashes at me. "Would you like me to bring you some breakfast, Luke?"

I glared at her. "No thanks. I've lost my appetite. Shouldn't you be on site?"

Ruth glanced down at her watch. "Yikes. It's late. I'll see you down there later?"

"No, you won't. I'll be away from camp for a couple of days."

"Why?"

"Because I have more important things to do than babysit a team of archaeologists," I snapped. "I have paths to maintain, environmental programs to monitor, and I'd like to eat something that didn't have to be scraped from the bottom of a pot."

"Oh." Ruth looked crushed. But after a moment, her face brightened again. "Well, I hope your time away is... productive. When you get back, can you take me in for some private wilderness training, too?"

"You don't need it. A girl as well adept at saving whales as you can survive practically anywhere." I gave her a wave with my hand in what I hoped was a dismissive fashion. As I lifted my hand, I noticed a line of grey hair sprouting from my forearm. My fingers tingled as the nails curled over into claws. I shoved my hand behind my back. "So... bye. Don't forget to wear your hard hat." I yanked the tent flap shut before Ruth could say anything else. My heart pounded double speed. I grabbed another shirt. My claw tore a hole across the shoulder as I pulled it on. _Fuck fuck fuck. I had to go._

As much as I longed to stay near Anna, and the caves, I had to get away _now,_ before they all saw me shifting into my wolf form. I pulled on my trousers, not even bothering to do up the fly, and draped my hood over my head to hide the grey bristles sprouting from my cheeks. I shoved my clawed paw into my pocket, and lifted the tent flap. Ruth had gone. I bent my head down and sprinted for the truck, not looking back as I fled from my mate.

## Chapter Nine

# Anna

As I searched through my bags for a change of clothes, Luke's words buzzed in my mind. The sentences turning over and over like a skipping record.

_I'm just teaching Miss Sinclair wilderness survival... wilderness survival..._

Ruth _knew._ She knew what had happened to Ben. Everyone at the university knew. Ben had been a popular guy, president of the Student Society and the Ecology Club. His death had been in all the papers. Reporters had interviewed me. I'd even been in the _Daily Post_. STUDENT HEARTBROKEN AFTER BOYFRIEND FALLS TO GRISLY DEATH. People asked me so many questions, as though I'd been able to read Ben's thoughts in his last moments. Why had Ben decided to cross the crevice without equipment? Why had it taken the forest rangers so long to find him? Had I got some kind of bad feeling when he'd left for the weekend, some kind of premonition of his doom?

The idea of it was ridiculous, but I often found myself turning our last conversation over in my head, wondering if I should have sensed the grim reaper over his shoulder, if I should have inspected his equipment or specifically warned him not to do any freeform rock climbing. But Ben was an experienced hiker and climber, and he was going with a mate. I didn't think any more of it.

And now I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Luke didn't know about Ben or how he'd died. I wasn't ready to tell him. But that didn't stop the guilt from gnawing at me as I'd woken up and felt that warm body beside me. The familiarity of waking up next to someone... I'd thought it was Ben, before my mind registered what had happened last night, and where I was.

Guilt gnawed at my stomach. I felt as though I'd cheated on Ben, which was ridiculous. He was dead and I had to move on. But that knowledge didn't change how I _felt_. And Luke's comments to Ruth only rubbed salt in the wound. I knew I'd reacted viscerally, but it was the _way_ he'd said it, so _mocking,_ as though wilderness survival was this basic skill that everyone should have, as though people didn't make mistakes... mistakes that cost their lives.

I tugged on some polka-dot thermals and a work shirt, and pulled a hoodie on over top. I knew I was being stupid, and unfair, but I was still reeling from everything that had happened. Losing my bracelet, finding the paintings, discovering Luke was a werewolf, and then last night... last night...

_You're angry at Luke because you feel guilty,_ the voice in my head scolded me. _You didn't even think of Ben, your poor boyfriend who died a horrible, excruciating death only a few months ago. He's barely even in the ground and you're jumping into bed with a werewolf. And that's really why you're angry._

_Dammit._ I couldn't think about all this now. I wiped the tears forming in the corners of my eyes, grabbed my trowel and raced down to the site, checking all my buttons were done up and my hair smoothed as much as possible.

I could tell from the way Frances eyed me when I jogged over to the caves that Ruth had told her what she'd seen. My whole face burned with a fierce heat as I came to a stop in front of my professor, who stared at me with a strange look on her face.

"Hello, Anna," she said, a wry tone in her voice. "I'm glad you could join us. Ruth was saying Luke has been giving you some additional health and safety training."

"Yes. In wilderness survival. It wasn't meant to interfere with our work but I... er, overslept." I said, a lame excuse both of us knew was a lie. Frances pressed a memory stick on a chain into my hand.

"That's fine. I need you to go to Crookshollow village and email these photos to Barry. He's waiting on them for the press release. They're hi res, so you'll probably need to upload them to the file database and send him the link."

"I thought you'd want to do that," I said. "You said yesterday you wanted to go to town to send some emails and have a proper shower."

"The BBC are showing up this morning." Frances beamed. I noticed she was wearing a line of wobbly eyeliner around her eyes, and her lips were done in a deep red. She was ready for her close-up.

"But I'm the one who discovered the paintings!" I cried. "Shouldn't I be talking to the BBC?"

"Frances is the director of the excavation," Ruth said, moving in to stand beside the professor. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. "It doesn't matter who discovered the site. What's important here is the research. These paintings are an incredible discovery; it will be an honour to write my thesis on them."

_"What?"_

"Ruth will be working alongside me for the preliminary research period," Frances explained, her words cutting through my skin like a dagger. "It's important that she be present for all media sessions so her name becomes associated with the site as well."

"But—" I spluttered, angry tears forming in the corners of my eyes, "—why is Ruth working with you and not me? I thought I'd get to—"

"Don't be ridiculous. You didn't honestly think just because you happened to stumble upon these paintings first, that you'd get dibs on them over a PhD student?" Ruth sneered. "I've already completed my master's. I'm the one in the best position to get the work done and have a proper paper published about the discovery. This is not some first-year essay assignment, Anna. It's serious archaeological discovery. We can't leave it in the hands of a bloody _student._ "

"Ruth," Frances scolded. "That's not—"

"Maybe if you didn't spend so much time swanning about with that ranger, learning all about _wilderness survival,_ you'd have figured out how things work around here," Ruth added in a bitchy tone.

My blood boiled. I wanted to tear Ruth's throat out. But what could I do? Ruth was right – she was a PhD student, and I'd just handed her the perfect doctoral thesis topic on a fucking plate. Her throwing me under the bus was just a fun side effect.

I turned on my heel and stalked back towards the camp, my fingers crushing the USB stick into my palm.

"Anna, wait." It was Frances. I sucked in a breath, trying in vain to compose my face. I turned around.

Frances tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, accidentally smudging the corner of her eyeliner. "I can see you're upset. Ruth was very rude. I'm sorry she gave you the impression that—"

"So it's not true?" I said. "You haven't already made plans with her?"

"She spoke to me as soon as we confirmed the discovery. So yes, she'll be helping me with the initial publication of the paintings. Now, don't worry about it. There is plenty of work to be done, enough work for several graduates," Frances said trying to soothe me. "I imagine we'll be studying the caves for _at least_ three more seasons. I am sure by the time you're ready for your doctoral thesis, Anna, there will be a project here for you, as well. But for now, I really need those photos."

"Fine." I shoved the stick into my pocket. "I'm on it. I'll be back around lunchtime. I can even pick up some Cornish pasties for everyone if you like."

"Don't worry about that, I'm planning to cook fennel and black pudding soup for the whole team and the film crew." Frances beamed. "It's my mother's special recipe."

I resisted the urge to gag. "In that case, don't worry about me. I'll go see my mum, if that's okay, and have lunch with her."

"That's fine. Thank you, Anna. You really are a tremendous help." Frances patted my head, as though I were a puppy, and then jogged back to the caves.

I stormed back to the camp, catching sight of Luke just as he was getting into his truck. I ran towards him. I needed to apologise. It wasn't his fault I felt guilty... and I was desperate to feel the heavy warmth of his arms around me, to hear him say something completely evil that would take away the sting of this horrible morning. But his face shot with panic, and he held up a hand, indicating I shouldn't come further. His other hand was shoved deep into his jacket.

"Where are you going?" I called out to him.

"Away," he replied, his voice coming out strained. He glanced up, and I gasped in shock. His cheeks were covered with thick grey fur, his nose already starting to morph into a snout.

_Of course._ The full moon must be right around the corner. That meant Luke could no longer control his shift. It looked as though he was only seconds away from becoming a wolf. _He must be leaving to go deeper into the forest, until his wolf form is no longer controlling him._

Which meant I had two days on site without him. Two long days with Ruth tormenting me. It would be hell, but maybe it would help me sort my feelings out.

Luke slammed the driver's side door closed, turning on the truck and throwing it into gear. I jogged alongside the road when his truck bumped past me. "Anna!" Luke wound the window down, his face now completely covered in fur, his nose twisting before my eyes. "Are you still mad at me because of what I said to Ruth in the camp? I swear, I didn't mean it. I didn't know it would hurt you. I just wanted to save you from embarrassment."

"I'm not mad about that." My fingers brushed against the USB stick in my pocket. A fresh surge of anger rushed through my veins. "It was sweet, actually. I'm so sorry about the way I acted. My reaction had nothing to do with you. I will explain later, I promise."

"You don't owe me an explanation. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm sorry I told Frances about the paintings," I burst out. "I shouldn't have done that. She's got film crews coming and funding applications already filled out. People are going to be swarming all over the site."

"It's done now." Luke looked pained. His hand tightened around the steering wheel. "I can't wait much longer. The shift—"

"Ruth is taking all the credit for finding the paintings," I said, my voice wavering as a lump rose in my throat. "And Professor Doyle is letting her."

Luke closed his eyes. "Anna. I promise you that I will help you, but right now I have to go."

"Okay. Luke..."

"Yes?"

"Don't kill anything small and cute."

He smiled. "I make no promises."

I watched him drive away, my stomach somersaulting. As his truck turned the corner, I looked away, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. Luke made my body sing, and my heart clench tight. But feeling this way felt like a betrayal to Ben. I still saw his face when I closed my eyes, his friendly smile, his kind brown eyes, his blotched, broken skin when I'd gone to identify him at the morgue.

The grief was still so fresh, still blanketing my mind in this haze of impossible sadness. Here, in the forest, where Ben had loved to spend his time, I sensed him in everything. He was the rustle of leaves in the trees. He was the crunch of twigs beneath my boots. He was the fresh smell of rain trickling through the foliage and the twittering of birds as they went about their business.

And amidst it all, was Luke. He smelled like wildness personified, like adrenaline pulsing through your veins, like the wind in your hair while you ran. He wasn't _of_ the forest, he was the _king_ of the forest. It was sexy as hell, but was it what I really wanted? Was I into Luke because he was so different from Ben, because he exuded this raw masculine authority, because he was exactly what I needed, or because he was the _last_ thing I needed?

I blinked away my tears. I was a wreck. I needed to sort myself out, figure out what I wanted. And I needed to do it away from the trees and the birds and everything that screamed Ben's name.

At least I had this trip to town to look forward to. I told myself I didn't want to be on the stupid news anyway, watching Ruth smirking and preening for the camera. Instead, I would take my sweet time, enjoy a long shower and a real coffee and a Cornish pasty little sojourn from the mud and the cold. I lowered myself into my Mini, and turned the ignition. The tiny car spluttered to life, and I turned it onto the dirt track that met up with the main road.

After five miles of bouncing like a milkshake in the yard, I met up with the road. There was a couple on a motorbike in front of me, but they pulled over so I could putter past. I waved at them in thanks. The driver – a handsome man with long black hair streaming out behind him – didn't acknowledge me, but the Asian girl sitting behind him gave me a friendly wave and a smile through her visor.

The drive back into Crookshollow took me nearly an hour. I was thoroughly sick of being in the car, and it was still another twenty minutes to Crooks Crossing, where my mother's flat was. I had an idea. My closest university friend, Derek, lived in a flat in Crookshollow. He was studying English mythology as part of his English and History degree. He'd have a shower and a computer I could use, and if anyone knew anything about werewolves, it would be him.

Crookshollow had this reputation of being the most occult village in England. Apparently, more witches had been hung there during the 17th and 18th centuries than anywhere else in the country. I wasn't sure that was something to be proud of, but the town embraced its sordid history. On the way to Derek's place I drove down the high street, past crystal shops and signs advertising tarot readings. At the end of the street, the gleaming Halt Institute towered over the surrounding buildings – a modern architectural monstrosity that housed the witchcraft museum, an art gallery, and a few local fashion boutiques.

Derek's car wasn't parked on the street outside his flat, but that wasn't unusual – sometimes he had to park around the corner if all the spaces were taken. I knocked on the door. No one answered. _Odd._ He wouldn't usually be at university this early. Derek wasn't a functioning human until at least 2pm, mostly because he stayed up until all hours of the night gaming. I did tend to attract geeky friends.

I banged on the door, hoping to wake him up. I should've called first. It had never even occurred to me. After two weeks in the forest with no reception, I was getting used to not being able to contact people via my mobile. If it was good enough for neolithic hunter gatherers, then I could survive for a few short weeks.

Finally, the door swung open. Rodney, Derek's flatmate, scowled at me, his eyes heavy with sleep. A towel was wrapped around his hips, and his hair stuck out at all angles.

"Derek's not here," he snapped at me. "He's gone to see his parents for a couple of days, to work on that family history project of his."

"Oh, sorry." I stepped back. "Did he take his mobile with him?"

"Probably," Rodney yelled back as he slammed the door in my face. "You really smell!"

"Thank you!"

So Derek wouldn't be any help until he got back. That was okay. Derek had already been a huge help to me. I'd leaned on him pretty heavily after Ben died, mainly because I couldn't talk to Mum in her catatonic state. I spent so many nights at his flat, sleeping in his arms, sobbing into his pillow. Derek had been nothing but kind to me, and I must've been confusing him by clinging to him the way I had.

He kissed me one night, while he was holding me in bed. I kissed him back, even though I felt nothing for him romantically. It was just comforting to be wanted again, after losing someone who meant so much to me. But it was wrong to lead Derek on, so I pulled away. He confessed he had feelings for me. I told him I only saw him as a friend. We hugged and I cried some more and things had been mostly fine ever since. Sometimes I'd catch him looking at me a certain way, and I knew he still had a few lingering feelings, but he was actively dating and I hoped he'd soon meet someone who would rock his world. He deserved it. Derek was a good dude.

But him not being home put me in the unfortunate position of having to get back in the car and drive to my mum's flat if I wanted a shower.

I wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing my mum. I'd been living with her ever since Dad died, which was five years ago now, when I was in the sixth form at Crookshollow High. We got on well most of the time, but she relied on me heavily, always wanting me to cook and clean and spend my weekends with her. She was the reason I'd given up my place at Cambridge to stay in Loamshire. The rare times I left her alone for a couple of days, I'd come home to find her weeping on the sofa, Dad's photo album open on her lap. But those occasions were getting rarer now.

In the last year, she'd started taking art classes at the Halt Institute and going out to coffee with friends. I was starting to hope that I could leave her alone and do my postgraduate studies somewhere else. Ben had even encouraged me to apply to Cambridge. But then he'd gone and died, and she'd reverted back to her old ways.

In many ways, Mum had taken Ben's death harder than me. She seemed to regard it as a curse, a vicious cycle she'd brought on just by existing. She'd dropped out of her art class and the only person she spent any time with was Cynthia, her tarot reader friend who left our flat stinking of patchouli and cigarette smoke. I'd barely convinced Mum that she would be okay if I left her on her own while I was on the excavation, and I didn't want to think about the reaction I'd get as soon as I got through the door. After everything that had happened with Luke, I wasn't ready to deal with her just yet.

What I needed was a distraction. I had the whole morning to myself in the village. I might as well put it to good use.

I turned the Mini around and headed back down the Crookshollow high street. An idea occurred to me. A crazy idea, but then, everything had gone pretty crazy ever since Luke had shown up on site. I yanked the Mini into a car park, locked up, and walked up to the first occult shop I saw.

I read the gothic sign above the door. _Astarte._ This looked like just the place I needed. I glanced along the street, but I didn't recognise anyone wandering around. It wouldn't do for one of my university friends to see me heading into a new-age store. It would destroy my archaeologist street cred.

As soon as I opened the door, a wave of incense hit my nostrils. Choking on the sickly smell, I stepped inside. The shop was dim, with gauzy curtains covered in silver stars obscuring the front window. The place was lit with candles burning along the countertop and on the various wobbly shelves stacked around the small room. Every surface was crammed with books, candles, crystals, packets of cards, and statues of Egyptian gods.

The woman behind the counter – an old lady with a stooped back and a plait of thick black hair over her shoulder – waved at me, then went back to work. There was only one other customer in the shop – a handsome man about my age with wild ginger hair and broad shoulders. He was scratching urgently at his neck, while arguing with the shopkeeper over a quantity of tiny white pills spread out on the counter. As I walked around the shop, picking up the books and flipping through them, I eavesdropped on their conversation.

"—I need ten of these pills. Not tomorrow. Not next week. _Today."_

"Look, you're not the only person who's come in here for these," the old woman replied, her voice stern. "I can give you these six, but that's the best I can do until next week."

"Fine." The man gritted his teeth, took a handful of the pills, dropped a wad of cash on the counter and stormed out.

"Customers." The old woman looked up and grinned at me, a kind smile of crooked teeth. "They think you can work miracles and just magic up some more stock, although I suppose in a shop like this, it's to be expected. What can I do for you, dear?"

"I, uh..." I didn't really know what to say. "I was hoping you could work a miracle for me."

She smiled wider. "As long as you don't need any Lycan pills, I'm all yours."

"Lycan pills?"

The lady waved her hand dismissively. "It's a herbal remedy. For hair growth. They're not a big seller, but I have my regulars who need them."

"To cure baldness?"

"Not exactly." She glanced at my hair appraisingly. "Your hair looks fine. So what miracle are you in the market for?"

"I'm looking for... information on werewolves." I scratched my head. This conversation was ridiculous. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was a rational person. I believed in the scientific method. I knew crystals didn't have healing properties. Why was I in an occult store talking to a crone? "I mean... werewolf myths."

"I have a few books on the subject. But why don't you just ask your friend?"

"Huh?"

"Please, dear. I may be an old lady, but I can smell werewolf a mile off, and you reek of it."

"I... what?" I glanced around the shop, but it was empty. I lowered my voice. "You know about werewolves?"

"Of course." She tapped the bottle on the counter. "You didn't think I'd run a store like this and not know a thing or two about shapeshifters? I'm Clara, by the way. My own sons are shifters, you know."

"Really?" This conversation had only been going on for a few minutes, and already it had veered into Bizarro World.

Clara nodded. "They didn't get it from me. I'm purely human. But their father was a vulpine – that's a fox shifter – and both my sons inherited his genes. Shifters are much more common than you realise, although werewolves are pretty scarce in England these days. So what is it you want to know about werewolves? You might as well ask me. I can probably tell you more than any book."

"I don't..." I took a deep breath. "I guess I want to know about their mates."

"How so?"

"What does it mean when someone... when they call you their mate?"

"In most circumstances, it means you are a very lucky girl." Clara grinned. "Shifters – especially wolves – are caregivers. They're fiercely protective of their mates, and will do absolutely anything for them, including taking a bullet, if it came to that. Is that a bite I see on your neck?"

I pulled the collar of my shirt down so she could see the red mark across my collarbone.

"Ah. I see you have an immediate need of this information. Werewolf mating is very simple, by shifter standards. Werewolves are usually male, and they are instantly attracted to human women who possess the wolven genes. Many werewolves speak of a magnetic pull or an energy coursing through their veins – when they meet a women and instantly know they're meant to spend the rest of their lives together. Some women feel the same attraction."

"That sounds far-fetched." I rubbed my arms, remembering the way my body tingled and coursed with heat when I was near Luke. Was that what she was talking about? Was that feeling more than just attraction?

"Does it? Love at first sight happens all the time, among human couples. There are several scientific papers on the subject, and many believe it has evolved as a physiological response to environmental pressures. Why should it not express itself as a physical trait?"

_Woah._ Clara spoke my language. She gave me a coy smile. "I get lots of sceptics in here, young lady. I've learned the best way to talk to them is to find a way to relate, instead of getting into an argument."

"I can't imagine anyone arguing with you." I grinned. I liked this crone. "So do you know many werewolves?"

"No. As I said, there aren't many left in England now. Most of them stick to countries that already have a wolf population. It makes their lives easier if they're ever seen outside in their wolven form. I do have a couple of regular customers, but this week has been one of my busiest ever, with all these new wolves in town. Like that last customer, for example."

"He was a werewolf? How can you tell?"

"The smell. It's obvious once you get used to it." Clara sniffed. "Plus, he was after these pills."

She tossed the jar into my hand. I read the handwritten label. "Lycan pills: take twice daily leading up to the full moon."

"Many wolves find the pills help them shorten the length of time they're under the moon's spell, and help them to control their wolfish urges. I make these myself, and I usually have enough on hand for my usual clients, but the new wolves this week have wiped me out, as you may have heard."

"When did these new wolves show up in town?" Luke had said he was protecting the site against any potential threats. It would be too big a coincidence for more werewolves to show up in Crookshollow just as the caves were being excavated.

"There's a ranger in the forest. He arrived two days ago. " Clara gave me a look. "I gather that's your man."

"Luke. That's him. How do you know he's a ranger?"

"He told me. We had a lovely chat. He's a wonderful lad, a little rough around the edges, but his heart is pure. His family have a long history in Crookshollow. It's nice to see a Lowe return here."

"You know all about the Lowe pack? About what happened?"

She nodded. "Yes, but that's ancient history, of course. There would be few here in Crookshollow now who would remember the death of that child, and of those left, probably none that cared, unless there was a descendant of Robert Peyton who still carried his anti-shifter fervour."

"That seems unlikely. What about other wolves?"

"I had my regulars, and that man this morning. I've never seen him before, either. I would stay away from him if I were you."

My stomach twisted with nerves. "How come?"

"He smelled your Lowe wolf on you, and likely sensed your genes. He knows you're a viable mate, and that another wolf has laid claim to you – a wolf whose family name has long been disgraced. He might try to claim you for his own."

"Can he do that? Don't I get a say in the matter?"

"It wasn't uncommon in the past for rival packs to clash over viable female mates. Most of that behaviour is verboten these days, feminist wolf movement and all that, but some wolves still stick to the old ways. He struck me as the latter type."

My stomach clenched. I'd come to the village to escape this werewolf stuff for a few hours, to give myself some time to think. The last thing I needed was to get stuck in the middle of a territorial wolf battle over my own vagina. "What do I do? Is there some kind of... anti-wolf spray I can use?"

"I'm afraid no magic is powerful enough to repel the primal energy of a lycanthrope." Clara grinned, tapping a stack of black card decks on the counter. "I _can_ sell you a deck of Crookshollow tarot cards, though. Each card has different pictures of famous spiritual landmarks of Crookshollow. They've also got playing instructions inside."

"Playing instructions?"

"Tarot cards were originally designed as playing cards." Clara set a deck down in front of me. "If you're out in the middle of the forest, perhaps you could use a bit of entertainment."

"Thanks." I paid for a set, and Clara threw in a pamphlet about shapeshifters. "A lot of this is New Age codswallop," she said, jabbing a wrinkled finger at the howling wolf and full moon on the cover. "But if you want some good general information on shifters, it's a good place to start."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I just hope what I've told you hasn't confused you even more."

"Confused me?"

Clara's kind eyes bore into mine. "I was in exactly your position once, my dear. I loved a shapeshifter, but I had to temper the decision to follow my heart against a world of doubt."

"I... I've known Luke only a couple of days," I said. "It's too early to say that I love him."

"If you say so." She turned back to the counter, and started rearranging quartz pyramids with thin fingers. "If you have any more questions, you can come back here and I'll try to help you."

"Thank you." I rushed out the door, my mind reeling. I'd gone into Astarte hoping for some clarity, but instead I felt more confused and scared than ever.

I went home to the flat. My mother lay on the sofa, staring unblinking at the ceiling, an open scrapbook clutched in her hands.

"Hi, Mum." I kissed her on the forehead. "I brought you a Cornish pasty, and a new tarot deck. I thought you and Cynthia might like to try reading my fortune."

She didn't reply, her eyes barely registering my presence. My gaze fell on the scrapbook, and I gave a start as I realised the photographs weren't of my dad. They were of me and Ben – shots of us grinning from under the family Christmas tree, hiking along Hadrian's Wall last summer, marching in a student protest against the Iraq War. From every image, Ben's lively face grinned up at me. My heart pounded. Why was she doing this to herself?

"Anna." Mum blinked. Fresh tears rolled down her face. She reached up and embraced me with thin, weak arms. "Are you okay? Have you come home to stay with me?"

"I'm just here to take a shower and grab some stuff. I'm living on site for the next three weeks, remember?"

"Oh." Her face fell. She clearly didn't remember at all.

"Why don't you call Cynthia to come over? She could help you finish that Monet puzzle you started." The box still sat on the kitchen table, the border completed, a few splashes of colour dotted in the centre. It didn't look as though she'd fitted any more pieces since I'd last been home.

Mum's eyes fluttered shut. She pressed the scrapbook tight to her chest. "No. I don't think so."

I sighed. "That's fine. I'm just going to take a shower, and then I'll fix you some tea."

The one advantage of having a mother catatonic with grief was that I didn't have to listen to her complain about my smell. I took a long shower, using an entire bar of soap, and tried not to let my mother's behaviour get to me. As I soaped down my body for the fourth time, my sadness at seeing her like that flipped over to anger. When I was eighteen and we lost Dad, I had to hold things together while she fell apart. I had to cook and clean the house and pay the bills and deal with the lawyer and the funeral home. And I did it all while the pain of losing my father rubbed my heart raw. I did it for her, so she could fall apart and retreat into her own private grief.

Which probably explained how I was able to keep going after Ben died. Keeping busy was the only way I knew how to deal with the pain. The university suggested I take a semester off, but I dug my heels in and ended up with the top grades in the whole department. I'd kept on doing everything I had been doing before, while my mum faded back into the same private world.

Seeing her sprawled out on the sofa made my body burn with rage. _I_ was the one who'd lost my partner this time, and yet, I wasn't able to lie around and weep and mourn him. I had to hold myself in check to deal with her. And what did her pain achieve? What were her tears in aid of? Dad and Ben had been robbed of their lives, and Mum was wasting hers away. I didn't want to do that.

After changing into some clean clothes, I made Mum some tea, did a load of my filthy, muddy laundry, and logged on to my computer to send off the images to the university. I tried to ring Derek to ask him about werewolf myths, but he wasn't picking up his phone. Lately, Derek had been weirdly obsessed with writing out his family history. He'd been working on the project since second year, and he had collected all kinds of titbits about his ancestors all the way back to the 1700s. Apparently, someone in his family was quite a famous witch hunter. As a mythology student, that was the kind of thing Derek loved. When he went away on his research trips, he got so engrossed, he was unreachable. I hoped he'd come up for air and return my message soon.

"I'm leaving now," I told my mother, as I picked up my clothes from the dryer.

"Okay." She didn't look up from the sofa.

"Please eat your pasty."

"I will." She made no move to grab the paper bag.

"I'll probably be back again in a few days." I lingered in the doorway, wanting to say so much more, but not sure where to start.

"Yes," she said. "Can you pick up some takeaways for dinner?"

I sighed. "I won't be home for dinner," I said through gritted teeth.

"Oh."

I hung on the door, letting the frigid wind blow inside, hoping she'd say something else. _Goodbye, daughter. Enjoy the dig. I hope you have a great time. Did you discover anything wonderful? Did you meet any sexy werewolves?_ But she didn't.

I pulled the door shut behind me, locking her inside. I debated calling Cynthia and telling her to come and sit with Mum, but thought better of it. Mum probably wouldn't even answer the door.

Behind the wheel of the Mini, my mind whirred through everything I'd found out from Clara. This other wolf, he had to be there because of the caves. Were things going to get dangerous? As I neared the forest, my stomach flipped with nerves. I wasn't sure what I would find when I got back, and I worried about Luke out there alone, not aware that there were other wolves in the territory.

When I finally reached the site and pulled up beside Frances's battered jeep, I noticed two unfamiliar vans – white paint, with the BBC logo emblazoned on the side. Frances's media campaign was already well underway. I dumped my bag in my tent. On my sleeping bag was a small square of paper. I unfolded it, and read a message scrawled across it in black ink.

> _Anna_
> 
> _I have to see you again. Meet me at the old oak at midnight. I promise you won't be hurt._
> 
> _Luke_

My hand trembled as I stuffed the note into my pocket. How had Luke even written a note in wolf form? He must've doubled back to deliver it before he changed. That was a huge risk.

Would I go? I didn't have a choice. I needed to tell Luke what I'd seen. Even if he was in his wolf form, I hoped he'd be able to understand my words and be on his guard.

My chest tightened. If something happened to him... I didn't want to think about it.

_I can't lose another person I love. I just can't—_

_Love?_ The word pulled me up short. Why had I thought that? I didn't love Luke. I _couldn't._ I'd known Luke for all of three days, and for a large portion of that time, he'd been downright rotten to me. I had a more deep and meaningful relationship with the guy who delivers our pizza. I liked him, sure. He was damn hot, and thinking about him made butterflies flutter in my stomach. But not love. It couldn't be love.

_Then why are you planning to meet him again at midnight, despite the danger?_

"Shut up, brain," I said aloud, as I folded my clean clothes into my bag. _Great, now I was talking to myself._ I was sleeping with a werewolf and talking to myself. At this rate, I'd be locked in an asylum by the end of the week.

With a film crew on site, I had to look at least halfway decent, especially if I wanted to upstage Ruth. I was already wearing a clean jumper and jeans, so I quickly ran a brush through my hair and dabbed on a little makeup, squinting into my tiny compact mirror as I jabbed at my eyes with an eyebrow pencil. No wonder Frances had messed hers up so badly. If anyone ever invented a camping makeup kit, they'd make a fortune.

I stalked over to the caves, arriving just as the film crew started rolling. They had set up giant shade sails in order to keep the rain off the equipment and the cave entrance. Frances was standing behind the director. She waved at me to be quiet. I slowed my walk, moving carefully so as not to step on too many twigs or dead leaves, and came to stand alongside her.

Ruth stood in front of the cave, smiling her infuriatingly chipper smile as she described the rock formations and the geology of the area. She'd probably spent the entire morning fixing her hair and makeup: her short blonde bob was impeccably set, not a single hair out of place. Her eyes were done with a little wing, and a hint of pink highlighted her lips. She looked as though she belonged on a toothpaste commercial, instead of in the middle of an English forest in the driving rain.

Halfway through her spiel, the director called cut in order to reposition the cameras. Ruth checked her face in a compact mirror. My stomach seethed with jealousy. It should have been me out there, talking about the site.

"Why is Ruth in front of the camera?" I hissed to Frances.

"I thought she might like a chance to be involved," she replied. "Ruth is so excited about this discovery. Cave paintings are her specialty, you know. Her master's dissertation was on the Lascaux caves."

_Cave paintings are her specialty, and yet she hasn't figured out that those are less than a hundred years old,_ I thought but didn't say.

The camera started rolling again. I watched Ruth gesturing to the rocks as she explained how the caves had formed from water running through the mountain ranges. Water ran down over the edge of the sail and dribbled down the back of my sweater, cold water sliding over my skin.

_I've had it,_ I said to myself, as a large drip landed in the centre of my head. _I've had it with being taken advantage of, with missing out on opportunities because I'm too nice to speak up._ _I'm sick of being busy surviving the various tragedies of my life and looking after everyone else. It's time I looked after me._

Somehow or other, without hurting Luke or endangering his claim on his rightful territory, I was going to expose the paintings as a sham. If I couldn't get credit for discovering the greatest archaeological find in England's history, then I damn well was going to get the credit for exposing it as a fraud.

## Chapter Ten

# Luke

I sped deep into the forest for as long as I dared, heading through an area that wasn't frequented by hikers. My paws shook violently as I gripped the wheel. I cursed myself for going back and leaving that note for Anna. No one had seen me, but it had cost me precious time. I gritted my teeth as my wolf form pushed against my skin, begging to be fully unleashed. Grey hair bristled all over my body, and I'd had to kick my boots off as my feet melded into paws. It took all my concentration to keep the truck on the road. Sweat poured down my face, and my whole body raged with an itch that would only subside once I gave in fully to my wolven side.

Up ahead, the road ended in a small gravel clearing. A sign pointed out the local flora and fauna, and arrows showed the direction of the next hut. There were no paths here – hikers had to use a compass and map to find their way. The only people who came out here were conservation groups studying birds or squirrels or tree lizards, and this was the wrong time of year for any of that.

I kicked the door open. It took me three tries to get my shaking paws to cooperate in unhooking my safety belt. I rolled out of the car, my skin crawling with agony.

_You're such an idiot._

I half-ran, half-hobbled into the trees, my chest heaving. I wanted to get as much distance between myself and the car before the change. Once I'd transformed near a rest-stop in the Black Forest and shredded the tires on some poor German family's Volkswagen. I needed the truck in one piece so I could get back to the site.

_You should never have left Anna that note._

I didn't have time for any more thought. The wolf won over. I crashed through the trees, my paws sliding across the icy earth. My shirt tore as my spine bent double. The itch consumed me. My blood boiled in my veins. I dropped to my knees, my fingers digging into the dirt as the change took hold of me.

I cried out as my skin tore away, my bones rearranging themselves, slipping from their disks and snapping in the opposite directions. More fur burst through my skin, like a thousand tiny needles piercing my flesh. My vision darkened, colours fading into dulled hues as objects in my periphery suddenly coming into sharp focus. I threw back my head, and howled.

I was wolf once more.

When one first changes into one's wolf form, the first order of the day is always breakfast.

I caught the scent of a rabbit that had crossed in front of me, and followed it for a mile until I managed to track down the creature itself. One swift bite to the jugular, and I had satisfied the growling hunger in my stomach.

My thoughts muddied as instinct thrummed through my body. But unlike my previous shifts, if I focused on Anna, I found myself able to retain my independent, human thought. So I found myself a sheltered spot in the hollow of a rotting tree trunk, and thought of her.

Last night... it meant so much more to me than just sex. My body burning for her, the image of her face blazing across my vision. I could barely concentrate on the task I'd given myself.

Now that I was in my wolf form, I knew that I wouldn't attack her. The idea of it turned my stomach. But still, asking her to meet me was a risk. She could be followed, and we could both be found out. But I needed Anna to see me for what I truly was, to understand that the wolf was a part of me, in the same way whatever was bothering her this morning was a part of her. If I scared her off, that was probably a good thing. If I didn't, well, we'd deal with that together.

I ached for her. Anna was everything to me now, and I couldn't bear even a single day without seeing her, even if it had to be as a wolf.

Anna was my mate, and nothing or no one was going to separate us.

## Chapter Eleven

# Anna

_I have to see you again. Meet me at the old oak at midnight. I promise you won't be hurt._

Once again, I stood beside the rotting carcass of the fallen oak, freezing my extremities off, waiting for a wolf who was late. Once again, Ben swirled through my thoughts, his voice whistling through the trees and caressing my skin with frigid, dead fingers. Once again, I wondered if I should have myself committed, because I was clearly going nuts.

A twig snapped. I whirled around, scanning the treeline. My breath caught in my throat.

_I shouldn't be here. This is crazy._

_I_ should _be here,_ I told myself, annoyed that I was still looking back to the past. _Ben is dead. He isn't coming back. Why shouldn't I be falling for a werewolf?_

"Luke?" I called out, rubbing my mittened hands together in a vain attempt to keep them from falling off. "Luke, is that you?"

Another twig broke. I focused on a knot of trees at the top of the ridge, around thirty metres from where I stood. A wolf stepped out from behind one of the trees, its grey coat shining in the moonlight, a line of reddish fur down its spine I didn't remember from last time Luke changed. He was beautiful.

The wolf crouched in the dead leaves, paws facing me, mouth hanging open and pink tongue panting against its chin. It had its eyes almost closed, just two slits eyeing me up in an almost sinister way.

Even though I knew it was Luke, seeing a wolf so close still gave me an uneasy feeling. "Hey." I gave a little wave, not really certain what I should do. Should I get closer? Did he even understand my words?

The wolf sat up, its back straight and front paws pressed together. It nodded its head slightly, acknowledging my presence.

"Um... so I'm really cold, and I'm not exactly sure why you asked me to come out here. I hope you're keeping well."

The wolf nodded its head.

"And you've been keeping out of trouble."

Another nod.

"But you ate something small and furry, didn't you?"

A sheepish nod this time. I wished he'd open his eyes.

I shifted weight to my other foot. This was weird. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. "So, um... I went to town today. Frances made me email off some photographs for the press release. While I was there, I went to this occult store on the high street, and the woman there... she makes pills for lycanthropes... that's you, a lycanthrope. I learned that today. And yeah... she said another wolf is in the area. I actually walked past him – he's got reddish hair, a bit like that colour along the spine of your pelt, actually... do you call it a pelt?"

Luke tilted his head to one side.

"So... I don't think it's a coincidence. He could be here because of the caves. You have to be careful—"

The wolf snapped its head up, baring its teeth. Its eyes bore into mine, the deep brown irises of a killer locking focus on its prey.

_That's not Luke._

My stomach plummeted to my knees. _Shit._

The wolf pounced, galloping towards me on strong paws. Time seemed to slow. Its shoulder muscles rippled as it narrowed the space between us. My throat closed. Its jaws pulled back, revealing those rows of sharp teeth.

_Run._

I willed my legs to move. I turned and raced back towards the camp. I seemed to move in slow motion, my legs dragging through the air as though I were trying to run through syrup. I thrust my hands out in front of me, plunging through the trees without a clue where I was heading. The torchlight swung wildly around me, lighting the forest like a fire. The wolf pounded behind me, panting as it closed in on me. In the distance, someone was screaming. It took me a few moments to realise that someone was me.

The wolf's feet pounded against the dirt. Leaves crunched. It panted with anticipation. I could practically feel the heat of its breath against my cheek. Any moment now—

Something crashed through the undergrowth beside me. I screamed, and ducked left, grabbing a tree trunk to prevent myself from keeling over. Behind me, I heard a thump, and the wolf's snarls turned into a whimper.

I dared a look over my shoulder. My attacker was on locked in a vicious battle against another wolf, this one with a grey pelt and glowing green eyes. The two rolled across the ground, jaws snapping and claws slicing.

_Luke!_

The second wolf – Luke – overpowered the first, pinning its shoulders to the ground, jaws snapping in its face. I choked back a scream, expecting him to tear the first wolf's face off. Luke bent down, and took a bite out of the wolf's shoulder. Blood gushed from the wound, and the wolf howled with pain and rage. Luke stepped back, growling, his teeth bared and tail twitching. The other wolf rolled to its feet and raced off into the trees, disappearing into the night.

Luke stalked in a wide circle around me, growling into the forest, sniffing frantically over the ground. After doing three circuits around the general area, he sat down and looked up, his eyes wide as they met mine. He panted in a friendly way, his tongue hanging out over his teeth.

"Luke." I sank to my knees, struggling to catch my breath. I held my hand to my chest, trying to calm my thundering heart.

He trotted towards me, head down, back stooped in an unthreatening way. I couldn't believe I had mixed him up with the other wolf. Luke's coat was pure grey, darker across his back, fading to an almost snowy white under his belly. He was smaller than the other wolf, but leaner, his sleek wolven body loping towards me with an even gait.

My heart pounded as he walked right up to me. His snout nuzzled my hand. My breath caught in my throat as I ran my mitten through his fur, sinking deep into the soft, silky strands. Luke licked my cheek, and I giggled.

"Thank you for saving me." I wrapped my arms around his thick, muscled neck and buried my face in his fur. Luke placed a paw on my shoulder, and whimpered.

"I don't know how much you can understand me."

Luke inclined his head again.

"So you do understand? Nod for yes, shake for no."

Luke nodded once.

"Okay. That's good." I breathed deep. The wolf even _smelled_ like Luke – that deep, primal scent that drove me over the edge. At the moment, it was the most beautiful smell in the world.

"Luke," I whispered into his fur. "It's been such an intense day for me. There's a film crew here and Ruth is acting like she's Renee Zellweger. Listen, I'm so sorry for the way I reacted this morning. I know you know my dad died. He was killed in a factory accident. But what you don't know is that five months ago, my boyfriend was killed here in the forest. He'd gone hiking with a mate and they'd decided to do some bouldering across one of the rocky ravines further downstream. Ben slipped and fell into a crevice. He broke several bones and cracked his head. The friend couldn't get him out and by the time he got back with help, Ben was dead."

Tears sprung in my eyes. Luke licked them away, his rough tongue like sandpaper against my skin.

"Last night... it was the first time since Ben. And it was amazing. I _really_ like you, Luke, but it's hard for me being here, in the forest, without him. My mother has retreated back into herself, the way she did after Dad died. I'm having to hold everything together for her and I'm struggling. When you were talking about wilderness survival, it just got to be a little too much for me. I felt guilty, and I took that out on you. It wasn't your fault. You didn't know."

Luke nuzzled into my neck, his smell calming me. I squeezed him tighter, his powerful body reassuring me, easing away my pain.

"Wow," I laughed, as tears rolled over my cheeks. "I never thought I'd say this, but it's so much easier talking to a wolf than another human. It's nice for once to know someone is listening to me."

Luke's long tongue slobbered across my whole face, leaving a trail of sticky saliva across my cheek and neck. I laughed and pushed his snout away.

"Luke... I... I don't want to sleep alone tonight." The memory of that wolf's cruel eyes tugged at me. I rested my chin against his shoulder, reassured by the muscles rippling beneath his fur. There was no way anyone could hurt me with Luke by my side.

Luke stood up again, breaking our embrace. He disappeared into the trees, his grey pelt gleaming under the pale moon. "Where are you going?" I called after him, not wanting to lose him. Luke turned back to me and barked once, as if to say, "What are you waiting for?" then kept trotting on into the darkness.

What _was_ I waiting for? I glanced up into the trees, where the bare branches swayed in the wind. An owl hooted. Ben's voice faded into the cold of the night.

I got to my feet and followed Luke. He circled around the outside of the camp, and a few minutes later, we came to a stop in the trees beside my tent. I scanned the rest of the camp, but couldn't see any lights on or torches flickering in tents.

"I think we're safe," I said, holding open my tent flap. Luke darted inside and I zipped the tent up tight.

Last night, we had folded our naked bodies together in Luke's bed, limbs entwined and the scent of sex hanging thick in the air. Tonight, there would be none of that.

The trees rustled over my head, stray branches brushing against the canvas. Luke's chest rose and fell. He was taking such a huge risk being here, not just that he might be discovered, but that he might frighten me away. In fact, the opposite was true. I was in awe of this tremendous gift he'd given me, the trust he'd placed in me by coming to me in his wolf form. Being so close to him like this, I felt so safe. I wanted to give him a gift in return.

"I want so badly to escape Loamshire," I said, the words falling from my mouth before I even realised it. "I am the anywhere-but-here girl. I've had this intense loathing for the place ever since I was a teen. I got good marks and wore glasses and liked science fiction and anime and gaming, and the other kids... they were mean. I didn't have many friends.

"The one thing that got me through high school and my dad's death was knowing that by the time I got my A-levels, this town would be eating my dust. I applied for university as soon as the enrolment opened up. I had my scholarship essays all written. All my life, I've wanted to explore ancient ruins and to have adventures and finally, it was going to happen.

"My mother has been in bad shape ever since Dad's death. She was getting better, but when I got my acceptance to Cambridge, she got worse again. She didn't leave her bed for days." Tears stung the corners of my eyes. "I gave up my spot to stay here and look after her. I put all my dreams on hold and went to Loamshire University and tried to make the best of it. And then I met Ben, and he loved to have adventures, and he made friends easily, and he was just so in tune with the world. Being with him... I felt as though I were getting to live a bit of my own dream, you know?" I shook my head. "You probably don't know. I'm sorry.

"Now, I'm finishing up my degree, but with Ben gone, Mum is getting bad again. She can barely feed herself, and I don't want to think what would happen if I left her in charge of paying the bills. She needs me so badly, and the worst thing is, I resent her. I hate myself for it, because she's my mother, but I don't understand why she can't just get off the sofa and move on with her life. I did it. I'm still doing it. And it's hard, but at least it's not a cop-out. Just because Dad and Ben were robbed of their lives, does that mean I should be robbed of mine, as well?"

Luke tilted his head to the side, and he placed his heavy paw on top of my hand. I smiled, despite the tears.

"Time is ticking for me to accept postgraduate spots. I've been accepted to Yale, Auckland, and Cambridge. All of them are in exciting, far-off places that aren't here, but when I think about telling my mum I'm leaving... I just can't see it." I sighed. "I'm going to be in Crookshollow forever, trapped here by the ghosts of the dead."

Luke pressed his nose against my hand and whimpered. That was exactly how I felt when I thought about the stack of acceptance letters burning through my desk at home. His weight pressed against me, warm and reassuring, and my anxiety about the future faded. Calm washed over me. It would work itself out.

I had Luke now. With his strong body and sharp mind on my side, I knew that somehow or other another, I would figure things out.

"Goodnight, Luke." I kissed the soft fur on top his head. He butted my chin with his wet nose, then curled up beside me, a reassuring weight against my side. He rested his chin on his paws, his eyes wide open, trained on the tent flap.

I settled back into the pillows, weariness overcoming me. It had been a long, weird day, and had ended with me running for my life. But with Luke here with me, I couldn't even muster up an ounce of fear.

_I am safe._

Luke stayed beside me the entire night, his body heat keeping me warmer than any thermal sleeping bag. At some point, I woke up and rolled over, coming up against a warm wall of soft fur. I lay awake, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed, in awe of the beautiful creature that trusted me so completely.

He'd said he was dangerous in his wolf form, but he was as gentle as a kitten. A giant kitten with razor sharp fangs and claws. I stroked him, my hand sinking into his soft fur. The bite mark he'd left on my neck burned with heat. I couldn't wait until he returned to his human form so we could have another night together.

"Hey Luke," I murmured into his fur. He nuzzled my hand as I reached for my phone to check the time. "It's just on 6am. You should probably get out of here, or one of the others might see you leaving."

He shook his head furiously, and planted a firm paw on my stomach.

I laughed. "I'd like you to stay, too. You have no idea how much. But if Frances sees me bunking off my archaeological duties to hang out with a wolf, we're going to have even more problems on our hands. Not to mention, the film crew hanging out on site."

Luke shook his head again.

"I'll be fine." I promised, pushing his paw off and pulling off the shirt I slept in. I put my arms through my bra and did that up, then pulled my pink thermals over top. "This wolf is hardly going to attack the site in broad daylight, especially now that he knows you're nearby. And I promise I won't go anywhere else without you. I know you won't be far from me if I need you."

Luke stared at me for several moments, then slowly nodded his head.

"Atta boy." I rubbed behind his ears. Luke got to his feet and shook his body down. I admired the toned muscles of his legs, the beautiful shape of his jaw, the powerful slope of his back. Even in wolf form, he was a stunning creature.

I opened the flap, and a gust of cold air blasted my face. Luke stepped outside, his beautiful tail swooshing behind him. I watched as he darted off towards the bushes.

"Luke?" I shoved my head out into the frigid air. He turned his head, those wide green eyes swimming in my vision.

"Be careful."

Luke nodded, and trotted away, his tail disappearing into the dark trees.

It was strange, but even though he hadn't spoken a word to me, and even though he was a wolf and so we couldn't have sex again, last night had felt even more intimate than the previous one. I felt as though I were seeing a side of Luke he didn't show many people. And I had been able to tell him things I couldn't tell anyone else, things that had been stirring in my mind for a while now, about Mum and postgraduate study and my future. When I slept, I hadn't dreamed of Ben, or Dad. When Luke was with me, I had peace.

I just wished he could stay here on site with me, in person. For all the bravado I'd put on for him, I was afraid of this new wolf and what he might do. I didn't want to run into any more surprises. But I suspected I hadn't seen the last of the new wolf.

## Chapter Twelve

# Luke

_Shit._

As I darted around the edge of the camp, behind the caravan where Frances was burning a pan of bacon, the new wolf's scent trail crossed mine. It was fresh. He'd been here recently.

My mouth still tasted metallic, from the other wolf's blood. I hadn't been able to clean away the taste of it. My eyelids drooped as I sniffed out the edges of the trail. I hadn't slept last night, too concerned with guarding Anna from intruders. He would have been hiding upwind, where the rain and wind would have carried away his smell.

I wanted to stick to Anna like a bee to a fucking gorgeous flower, but she was right – she'd be relatively safe with all the other people on site. The film crew had stayed overnight, and he'd hardly attack with them around. Besides, by sticking around, I was running the risk of attacking someone, or being seen. On the other hand, the wolf couldn't have gone that far. I might never have the chance at such a fresh trail again. With one last, lingering look towards Anna's tent, I bounded off into the trees.

I followed the wolf's trail deep into the forest, but lost it about eight kilometres along the ridge. Not because the trail ran cold, but because the track was muddied by another scent trail... a distinctly wolfish trail. There was a third wolf in the area.

_I should have gone outside and dealt to the first wolf last night,_ I cursed myself. Now I had two shifters to deal with, and from the way these trails met up, it looked as though they could be working together. The wolf who'd attacked me had come to this spot, and then followed along the new wolf's trail, which was hours old.

_Another wolf._

This thing was getting really dangerous. My father had told me there were other packs who wanted the caves and paintings to remain hidden. The alpha of the Bleddyn pack had wanted to marry my grandmother, but she'd chosen my grandfather instead. If they knew the caves had been discovered and my grandmother's paintings brought to light, they might come here to claim the territory they thought to be rightfully theirs.

And then there would be the wolves who wanted to act on behalf of shifters everywhere, in order to keep the true origin of the paintings a secret. It wouldn't take much digging for an archaeologist or a reporter to uncover the local legends about the caves, and then werewolf stories would appear in every tabloid paper across the country. There were packs who would kill everyone involved to keep that from happening.

_Dad, I wish you were here._ I slumped down under a tree, feeling defeated. I licked my coat, grooming away some of the mud that had dried there. _I don't know what to do about all this. It's too late now to destroy the paintings. How am I going to hold on to our ancestral home?_

And there was another problem nagging at me. _Anna._ She lit my body and mind on fire in a way I hadn't dared to hope for. After Dad died, I never dreamed I'd feel happiness again, but when I was with Anna, I felt stronger, more powerful, more in control. The grief didn't sting my veins with quite the same intensity. And she _understood._ She'd been through it all before, twice. She knew better than anyone the pain of losing someone close to you, of how you saw them in everything and heard them in your sleep. Of how you walked through every encounter like a zombie, your mind far away in the world of the dead. Of how you got excited to see them or call them, only to be hit again with the force of the memory.

Anna told me last night about how badly she wanted to leave Crookshollow, to study and work in another country and have the life she'd wanted for so long. More than anything, I wanted her to have that life, because she deserved it. And even if she didn't realise it, I could see the weight of her mother's pain weighing her down, burning out her flame until there was nothing left.

She had to leave, and I had to be the one to convince her to leave. She was too kind to leave her mother of her own accord. But I couldn't leave with her. Not with my family's past on display for the world to see, and certainly not with other wolves sniffing around. This was my family legacy, my heritage. To me, being in this forest was like coming home. But to Anna, it was a prison. How could I be with her when we both wanted different things?

Grief gripped me. I would've talked to my father about Anna. He would have loved her. They could have stayed up for hours talking about books and archaeology together. He would've locked his own bright green eyes on mine, and when I'd finished laying out the issue, he'd give me a practical, no-bullshit plan for what I had to do.

But he wasn't here. And without his plan, I was lost.

_You have to make your own plan_.

Sighing, I got to my feet, and stepped onto the trail, following the path of my two wolven visitors deeper into the woods.

## Chapter Thirteen

# Anna

Frances had all but abandoned our neolithic cave floor. I was almost relieved. The thought of going back to tagging fox bones and stone chips after everything that had happened filled me with dread. Instead, she and Ruth spent most of the day down in the caves, delicate brushes in their hands, clearing away dirt and dust on the paintings, ready for the professional photographer from the university who would be arriving tomorrow. The cave was narrow and wouldn't accommodate more than two people at once, or at least that was how Ruth had gleefully explained it when she ordered me to remain behind in the camp.

Fine by me. Rainclouds rolled over the forest, sending down enough water to restart a biblical flood. Instead of sloshing around in the cold caves, I sat in the caravan, wrapped up in woollen jersey, scarf and gloves, reading Heinlein while sipping my third hot tea of the day.

It was my job to speak to the reporters from the _Daily Post,_ who would be arriving sometime that morning. In the meantime, I was enjoying one of the rare periods of downtime on site.

At least, I was trying to enjoy it. I scanned the page before realising not only did I have no idea what I'd just read, but I'd actually been holding the book upside down. Luke's face hovered in my vision. I glanced out the window to the forest. Was he out there somewhere? Was he all right? Had he met that other wolf, and worse yet, what would become of him when he did?

What was it like to date a guy who turned into a wolf and fled into the forest every single month? Was this my destiny, to lie awake at night and wonder if Luke was safe, had he been set upon by another pack, or shot by a hunter, or got his leg caught in a trap? Luke was so beautiful, it was easy to forget he was a wolf, one of the most feared creatures known to humankind.

Is that the life I wanted for myself – to be constantly fearing for Luke's safety, to not know where he was at all times? I'd only just started to claw my way back to the world from the clutches of grief. If I lost Luke... that would undo me.

_This is ridiculous._ I tossed the book down on the table. _You're acting as though Luke is yours. He's not. You've had one night together, and it was amazing. But now he's running around as a wolf and you haven't even discussed if you're exclusive. For all you know he could be shagging his way through the forest right now..._

Then why do I feel as though we were somehow bound together, that nothing that had happened was any kind of accident? I touched the spot on my neck where he'd bitten me. Clara's words echoed in my mind. Were Luke and I fated to be together? The thought both terrified and excited me.

A sound outside the window startled me out of my thoughts. An enormous SUV skidded along the dirt track into the camp, mud splattering up the doors, smearing across the pristine paint job that had clearly never seen a dirt track in its life. A woman wearing a skin-tight pencil skirt and stiletto heels climbed down from the cab. She frowned as her heel sank into the muddy earth. I leaned out the caravan door and tossed her a pair of spare boots.

Putting her stiletto heels back into the SUV, she shoved the boots onto her stockinged feet and clomped angrily up the caravan steps, her coat over her face to ward off the driving rain.

"This suit is _silk,"_ she snapped as she slumped down at the counter, scowling at me as though I controlled the downpour. Her voice buzzed in my head. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. A sheepish looking man in a flannel shirt followed after her, carrying a large camera. _The Daily Post._ I should have guessed.

I made them both coffee while the woman – who introduced herself as Misty – wrung water out of her skirt onto the caravan floor, set up her dictaphone, and bitched about the remoteness of our site. I learned she normally covered arts and lifestyle news, attending gallery openings and catwalk shows and theatre previews. Her life sounded glamorous and exciting.

Misty had been up in Crookshollow reviewing a Ryan Raynard art exhibition when she'd got the call to cover our story as soon as possible, before one of her competitors got the scoop. While I talked her through the discovery and some basic facts about cave paintings, her photographer snapped away in the background. I don't know what interest he had in the card table covered with site notes or the pyramid of empty coffee cans on the filthy kitchen bench, but maybe he was going for some kind of artistic still-life thing.

Misty stared hard at my face. "I recognise you..." She frowned. "Yes, that's it. You were the girl whose boyfriend died in the forest a few months ago. He fell on some rocks and got busted up real bad. I wrote a piece about it."

A lump formed in my throat. I remembered where I'd heard Misty's voice. She'd hounded me over the phone for three days until I relented and gave her a two-sentence statement, which she'd spun into a full article about my fragile emotional state. I didn't want to talk to any more reporters about Ben, especially not now. "Yeah. That's me. So, anyway, the site is dated to the neolithic period, which is—"

"Why are you here? I mean, surely the forest is full of bad memories for you?"

I shrugged. "Of course. But I can't let Ben's death stop me living my life and doing what I want to do. He would've loved knowing I was out here, digging up the past. But can we please not talk about him anymore?"

"Oh, of _course._ I'm _so_ sorry." Misty didn't look that sorry. She suddenly seemed keenly interested in the site and all the minutiae of dig life. She asked me a lot of questions about living in tents and what I ate and how much dirt I had to shift each day. "Is conducting a dig in an ancient cave dangerous?" Misty asked.

"It can be. Caves carry inherent dangers like slips or falling hazards, but these caves are pretty solid. We have a strict site safety protocol, and a local forest ranger oversees us to make sure we're adhering to guidelines. There haven't been any accidents so far."

I knew her paper was famous for tabloid-style stories, so I expected this article would be more about "The Real Indiana Jones" than any kind of actual reporting about the discovery. My stomach twisted in knots when I caught the photographer snapping a picture of me. "I don't want you to use that," I told him.

"Oh, he won't." Misty smiled. "I promise. Shall we go see the site now?"

"Sure." I brightened at the thought of handing them off to Ruth. "Right this way."

At the caves, I left them in Ruth's hands and went back to the camp. Inside the caravan, I poured myself another cup of tea and shoved two slices of bread into the toaster, willing my nerves to unwind. The memory stick Frances had given me yesterday lay on top of the counter.

I'd barely glanced at the photographs yesterday, as I'd been preoccupied with Mum. Now, they started to play on my mind. I had a mission to complete. I hadn't been able to even look at the paintings since I'd discovered them, so keen was Frances to keep me away from her prized discovery. But thanks to Luke, I knew a lot more about the paintings than they did.

As I reached for the stick, I felt eyes boring into my back. I whirled around, expecting to see Misty at the doorway, her silk blouse clinging provocatively to her chest. But there was no one there.

Odd. The gnawing sensation of being watched didn't leave me. _Was it Luke?_ I pushed open the door of the caravan and scanned the treeline for a beautiful grey wolf, but couldn't see Luke anywhere. But then, he wasn't supposed to be seen, especially not while the place was crawling with press. Was he nearby, watching me, protecting me? The thought was reassuring.

I sat back down again, feeling much better. From the table, the USB stick stared back at me. It was the key to bringing down Frances and Ruth. And I had made a promise to myself I wasn't going to be sidelined any longer. But still, I didn't reach for it. Was I being vindictive because I was jealous of Ruth's attention? Was this really the archaeologist I wanted to be, ready to publicly take down my colleagues at any cost?

I thought about Luke's connection to the paintings. To him, they were more than pictures on a wall – they told his family history. It occurred to me that if Luke's grandmother had painted the murder of her family, she might have hidden other messages into the paintings – things relating to Luke's family. Wouldn't it be amazing if I could give him some details about his history?

That was a much more noble goal. I grinned. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, for Luke's sake, of course.

I pulled Frances's laptop towards myself, and booted it up. Gingerly, I slid the USB drive into its slot, and navigated to the album. As the bright images filled the frame on the screen, my admiration for Luke's grandmother soared. They were remarkable in their accuracy and their mimicking of ancient art. Even with four years of archaeological training and the knowledge they were fake, I was almost fooled. Only when the carbon dating samples came back from the lab would Frances get any clue the site was only a few decades old. And I had to find a clue before then, otherwise my work would count for naught.

My toast popped. Ignoring it, I opened up the archaeological graphics software, and used the tools to import all the photographs. Next, I used the software's "paste and stitch" tool to line up the images next to each other to create one panoramic view of both walls of the cave. I then bent the image around a convex shape to simulate the walls of the cave. This gave me a three-dimensional mockup of the site.

I grinned as I used the mouse to navigate through my handiwork, zooming in on certain sections. Frances would be impressed. She didn't even know how to attach images to emails, let alone make something like this.

Looking at them in context filled me with awe. The painted section stretched for at least fifteen feet. The drawings covered every inch of the walls and unfurled across the ceiling, and a large section of wall at the end of the frieze had been smoothed clean – a future canvas, waiting to be filled, perhaps?

I used an overlay lens to draw white dotted lines across the images, dividing the paintings into "panels" depicting separate scenes. The scenes were easy to discern, as the same pack of wolves – two adults and three cubs – appeared in most of them. The early scenes were elaborate paintings of life in the forest – the cubs suckling from their mother. The father wolf chasing down a hare, birds in the trees serenading a sunbathing cub. Then came the scene where the wolves transformed into humans, standing on their hind legs, their human features in various stages of appearance. A moon rose in the distance.

I had to give Luke's grandmother credit, she had done a remarkable job. The paintings were drawn in a style so close to early drawings it would be impossible to tell these from an authentic neolithic frieze. And from what I could see of the pigments used, these appeared authentic, too. The wall would certainly prove a convincing fake to anyone stumbling upon it, which may have been exactly what she'd intended.

The last two scenes drew my attention. They were drawn with haste – the lines crooked – and were clearly unfinished. They used one colour only, the black ochre that came from soot. The wolves were drawn in outline, no colour or details added, as opposed to the other scenes, where they are drawn in hues of grey and brown and red.

_Hang on... what's that?_

I leaned closer, examining the image in detail. In it, a crowd of humans waved flaming sticks and long spears. Their mouths were open as though they were shouting. The one at the front wore a long garment that had been coloured in with a black scrawl. A cross hung around his neck. It was a priest, and there was only one family of priests in Crookshollow. Robert Peyton, leading his mob of angry villagers into the forest to destroy the wolves.

They didn't have priests in neolithic England, but I needed something more. His outfit could be argued to be some kind of tribal costume. I continued to squint at the paintings.

Behind the mob – drawn small and squeezed between two of the figures so it was difficult to spot – there was another robed man with a cross at his throat. In his arm, he cradled a child, and in his other hand, he tore off the child's arm, while the babe's mouth hung open in a silent O of shock.

_Holy shit._

Luke's grandmother hadn't just drawn a message to try to warn her husband and sons, she'd tried to tell the truth. The baby wasn't killed by a wolf. It was killed by someone in the village, someone wearing a cross.

The baby was murdered by a Peyton.

## Chapter Fourteen

# Luke

I chased the dual scent trail deep into the forest, where it crossed with those of a herd of deer and a hunting dog, and then I lost it completely. By then the scent was hours old, and it had been muddied by other animals and a hunting party and the onslaught of rain.

_Dammit._ I collapsed under a tree, tucking my paws beneath me and furiously licking the mud from my coat in a vain attempt to hide my frustration. The chase had taken most of the day – the sunlight had all but faded away, blanketing the forest in a grey dusk.

Something else had been bothering me, particularly about the wolf that had attacked Anna last night. He smelled familiar to me, as though I'd encountered him before. But I didn't recognise him. Dad and I had met very few other wolves – that was the whole point of hiding in the Black Forest – and he definitely wasn't one of them; the red streak down his back was distinctive, I'd never have forgotten it. So then where had I seen him before? _Déjà vu_ tugged at the corners of my mind, but every time I thought I grasped the recognition, it pulled back, out of my reach.

I needed to start back towards the camp, so I could watch over Anna through the night. That wolf had sensed my mark on her. He knew she was my mate. And that meant he would probably be back to attempt to take her for his own again.

I started back, picking my path through the trees. After a half mile, I came to a small stream. I followed this down the valley, picking up the scent of a path I'd made earlier when I'd been patrolling this area. As I skirted the edge of the stream as it wound its way through the limestone bed, carving out a path through ancient rock, a powerful scent wafted across my nose.

The wolf from last night. He was here.

I scanned the rocks, searching for him. My gaze settled on a tiny crevice between two jagged rocks. Two beady eyes glowed from inside, their gaze locked on mine, filled with menace.

His scent covered the area, smeared across every rock and branch. I'd found where he'd been hiding. I set my paws wide, flattening my back and raising my tail. I pulled my lips back, revealing my teeth. His head emerged from the gloom, the red streak along his back glowing in the dwindling light. He bared his teeth at me, his jaw muscles bulging with rage.

Werewolves communicate telepathically in their wolf form, although usually bared teeth and an aggressive stance would get the point across sufficiently. But this wolf and I had some things to discuss.

"What are you doing here?" __ I growled.

The wolf didn't reply. Its eyes burned into mine. It growled low in its throat.

"You don't belong here," I tried again. _"_ This is my territory. My mark is all over this part of the forest. Fight me for it if you must, but you'll lose."

"I've come for what's mine." __ His voice boomed inside my head, the force of his will so strong it almost knocked me backward. I dug my claws into the rock, and stood my ground.

"What do you mean, what's yours? You have no claim here."

"I want the caves," he said. "I saw you bring a crowbar into the caves. You intend to destroy what is mine."

"You've been watching me?" How had I not sensed him? He must've been standing downwind. In all the bad weather we'd been having, it could just be possible to disguise a scent. Maybe he'd smeared his coat with mud to hide himself further.

The wolf didn't offer an explanation. He inclined his head. __ "I want the girl, too."

"You attacked her. She is my mate. That is an unacceptable insult."

"I didn't intend to hurt her. I was only going to drag her away, but she wasn't having it. She has a real wild spirit. She would make fine cubs."

"She's not yours to mate with. She has already been claimed." __ My whole body pulsed with anger. _Who did this guy think he was?_

The wolf pulled back its lips into a smirk. "I hardly think I have to worry about you. She will choose the strongest of us as father to her cubs, and that will be me."

"Hardly." He wasn't getting his paws anywhere near Anna, not if I had anything to say about it. "I will challenge you for her if necessary, but you will lose."

He jumped down from the ledge, and paced in a wide circle around me, his back flattened and ears pulled back. "You're getting in my way. This is your only warning. Remember, I know where your mate is, and you cannot be with her all the time."

With that, the wolf turned, and darted into the forest. I bounded after him, diving into the stream and swimming to the other side. The current dragged me downstream, and by the time I crawled up on the opposite bank, the wolf was out of sight. I put my nose to the ground, caught his trail, and bounded after him.

My chest tightened with fear as I realised where he was going. He was heading straight back to the camp.

_Anna._ I poured on the speed. I had to get to her as soon as possible, before it was too late.

For hours, I pounded through the forest, my limbs screaming in protest as I drove my body to the brink of exhaustion. Three times I crossed the path of the other wolf, but I wasn't getting any closer to him. He must have some serious speed in order to stay so far ahead of me.

I emerged on the edge of the camp just as the moon rose above the tops of the trees. Lights were on in the caravan, but a quick peek in the window revealed only Frances was still up, poring over images of the cave paintings. I did a circuit of the camp, my nose twitching every time I caught a whiff of the wolf on the breeze. But the wolf himself stayed out of sight.

Anna's tent lay intact, the flap open just enough for me to crawl through. I got down on my front paws and wriggled through the gap, wiping my paws on the fly as best I could.

"... is that you, Luke?" Anna murmured from beneath the layers of blankets. My heart soared to see her there, alive and intact, her brown hair falling over her gorgeous eyes.

In reply, I nuzzled her face with my snout. My legs were shaking from the effort of standing. I gave up trying, and collapsed beside her on the bed.

"You're all wet," she protested, but she made no move to push me away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me. Even though I was cold and exhausted, her touch gave me a new kind of strength. I nuzzled into her shoulder, breathing the scent of her in deep. Anna was alive, and she was mine. That was all that mattered. No giant red-tinted wolves would change that.

## Chapter Fifteen

# Anna

_He's here._

Relief washed over me. I'd gone to bed early, my mind still reeling with what I'd seen in the paintings. But ever since then, I'd been lying in my sleeping bag staring at the ceiling, floating between sleep and waking, my mind wandering to Luke out in the forest all alone, with that other wolf on his tail. I'd imagined him dead, fallen off a rocky ledge like Ben, dashed to pieces upon the jagged rocks below. I'd imagined having to go to the morgue to identify his body, running my fingers over his cold skin, trying to explain to the coroner why my boyfriend had a tail.

And now here he was, soaking wet and panting hard. He looked as though he'd run a marathon to get here. _He came back to me._

"I'm so glad to see you." I buried my face in his fur, breathing in the rich, earthy scent of him, the pure masculine power of his body. He made no move to shy away, instead placing one of his huge, powerful paws on my back. I pressed my cheek against his ribcage, feeling the rise and fall of his ragged breath.

"Luke... I discovered something today. I can't believe the others haven't seen it yet – it so clearly dates the paintings to a more modern era. But I guess when you have BBC documentaries and tenure in your sight, you only see what you want to see."

Up and down, in and out. He rested his snout against my shoulder, letting out a deep, rumbling sigh. I stroked his fur, enjoying the softness drawing through my fingers.

"Your grandmother must have known who really killed that baby. She painted it into the images. It was a priest. He was tearing the child to pieces, making it look as though it had been attacked by a wild animal. It was one of the Peytons. They killed the baby in order to incite the town against your family. It's right there in the painting. Your family was completely innocent."

Luke's weight pressed against me. He made no noise of movement to acknowledge what I'd just told him. I jabbed him in the ribs.

"Luke, did you hear me? Your family is innocent. All the shame your father carried around, all the dishonour the Lowe pack suffered, it was for nothing. And one way or another, I'm going to help you prove it."

Luke's chest rose and fell, rose and fell. From his snout came a loud snore.

I sighed, cradling his huge head in my arm. "Fine. We'll talk about it in the morning. Goodnight, my handsome wolf."

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought I heard a faint voice inside my head, a voice that was not my own. It whispered, "Goodnight, Anna. I love you."

## Chapter Sixteen

# Luke

Dreams assailed me in technicolour, the frenzied images of past hunts, of running with my dad from park rangers and hunters, of hiding in caves and hollowed-out trees. Always moving, always on the run from something, my father's face always long and sad.

_Beep-beep beep-beep._

Something shrill roused me from my dreams. I shook myself awake, glancing around for the source of the noise. Anna's mobile phone. I batted it with my snout in a vain attempt to shut it up. One of the disadvantages of being stuck in my wolf form – no opposable thumbs.

"Urrrgh." Anna rolled over, throwing one arm out and clicking off her phone without even opening her eyes. I felt a flicker of shame at myself. I'd fallen asleep. I was supposed to be guarding Anna, but I'd been so exhausted from the previous night, and all the running... but Anna was okay. She was still alive. That's all that mattered. I vowed to never let my guard down again.

Anna stroked my cheek. "Hey, Luke."

Her voice sounded husky from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, the long lashes sticking together. Her lips pursed into a perfect bow. Goddamn it, I couldn't wait until I was out of my wolf form, and I could throw her on the bed and take her the way I wanted to.

Instead, all I could do was nuzzle her hand and give her my puppy-dog eyes and hope she would go and fetch me some bacon from the kitchen.

Anna leaned forward and tugged off her sleeping shirt, leaving her naked breasts on display. I growled low in my throat as the sight of those glorious orbs sent a wave of desire through me. _Soon, soon._ It wasn't much longer before Anna and I could resume our relationship where we'd left off – naked and tangled up in each other's limbs.

I placed my paw on her thigh. Her skin felt so smooth and supple.

"Luke, you have to go." Anna clasped her bra behind her back, and pulled her pink thermals over the top. "Frances and the others will be awake soon. You know they can't see a wolf hanging around the camp."

I nodded my head. She was right, of course. The idea of leaving her wrenched at my chest, but today I wouldn't go off in search of the wolf. I'd be staying as close to the caves as I could, watching and waiting. That wolf was nearby and I wouldn't let him come near her again.

"Go, go, go." Anna shoved me out the tent door. I took one look across the camp, scanning the trees for movement. I sniffed the air. He'd come close, last night, within a few metres of the tent. But my presence must've held him back. Once again, I mentally flayed myself for falling asleep. The flap on Frances's tent moved. I dared one last, long look back at Anna, her beautiful face drawn with concern.

She kissed the top of my head. "I'm fine. Now _go."_

I darted into the trees just as Frances emerged from her tent and stumbled in the vague direction of coffee. I guessed by the fact she wasn't screaming in terror that she hadn't seen me.

As soon as I saw Anna arrive successfully in the caravan, I ran up along the ridge, following the night's trail left by my wolf visitor. I didn't want to go too far from the camp, but I needed to have some idea where he'd gone.

After a couple of miles I traced him back to the stream, and a small cave in the rocks. His path didn't lead away again, so he must still be inside. I didn't follow him into the cave, not wanting another confrontation just yet. His scent drenched the rocks and trees – I'd found his lair.

There was no sense in hanging around there. I followed the rocky seam back through the forest, towards my family cave. When I reached a rocky outcrop overlooking the cave entrance where another film crew had gathered, I sat down and folded my paws in front of me. I tried to shift back into my human form, but I couldn't. The moon was still full.

NASA defines the full moon as lasting only a few moments, when the earth is directly, mathematically in between the sun and the moon. However, I was a werewolf, which meant that technicalities didn't apply.

I watched the camera crew set up their equipment. Frances dashed back and forth, helping the men carry their heavy lights down into the cave. Ruth sat on one of the rocks, balancing an umbrella awkwardly in the crook of her arm while she tried to touch up her makeup in a compact with the other. I followed Anna as she weaved through them all, answering questions, handing out trowels to use as props, and genuinely being her usual accommodating, gorgeous self.

A smell wafted across my nose, sharp and pungent, it carried the distinct aroma of wolf. But it wasn't the same wolf as yesterday. This was the second wolf, the one whose path both and the red wolf and I had followed yesterday. He was here.

_Shit._

I leapt to my feet, every sense on high alert. I shoved my nose in the air, trying to figure out where he was. The stench of him told me he was close, probably right up on me, but I couldn't see him hiding among the rocks. _How had he got so close without me sensing him earlier? It didn't make any sense—_

I heard the sound before I felt the hit. A sharp intake of breath. The crunch of a paw against the rock. And then something hard slammed into my body, and I tumbled through the air. I scrambled for purchase, but found nothing except fur and teeth.

We bounced down the rock face, claws digging into each other. My back cracked against the rocks. I rolled and slammed hard on my shoulder. Pain shot through my body. My grip loosened. The wolf dug its claws into my back.

For the first time, I got a good look at him. His fur was dark, an almost black stripe across his thick back, fading around to a dull grey over his enormous belly. His long face peered down at me, eyes so dark they were practically black bore into mine with a look of cold, calculating evil. This wolf didn't just want to fight me over territory, he wanted to grind my bones between his teeth.

"You were warned to stay away." __ The wolf hissed inside my head as he flipped me over and slammed my body against the jagged rocks. My body screamed. Red welts flew across my vision. "You should have listened. More will die if you don't listen."

_More will die._

Panic rose in my chest as the wolf's claws circled my neck, and he slammed my head down on the rocks. My brain bounced inside my skull, which now throbbed with a terrifying urgency. _Who was this guy? What did he mean by, "More will die"? Has he killed someone? Is Anna okay? And when had he warned me? Does he mean the warning the other wolf gave me? Were they working together? Was the other wolf nearby?_

With two of them on me, I'd be a goner. I had to make a move. I drew up all my remaining strength and threw all of it into leaping up. The wolf yelped in surprise as he tumbled off my back. Ignoring the pounding in my skull, I pounced, knocking his back against the rocks. I snapped my jaws in his face. He snapped right back. I ducked away from his gnashing teeth, swiping my claws across his cheek. He howled with rage and lunged for me. I leapt back, releasing my claws from his fur. His claws tore chunks of fur from my shoulders as they were wrenched free, but at least I was no longer in danger of a bite.

I couldn't take this guy. He was more than half again my size, and he was angry as fuck. I needed to get away. But how could I lose him?

I leapt down the rocks, landing on all fours. The impact shuddered through my legs, but I had no time to recover. I made a run for it, plummeting down the rocky ledge into the trees. _Get to the stream. He can't follow me in the stream_.

My feet pounded against the dirt. This was the second time in as many days I'd found myself running from a wolf. This was not ideal. I much preferred biting to running.

Behind me, trees rustled, paws slammed into the wet earth. A voice in my head screamed. "You cannot escape me, Lowe!"

The stream loomed ahead, the banks swelling from the recent rain. I sucked in my breath and plunged in. Freezing water rushed over me. The open wounds on my shoulder stung, and my head throbbed in the sudden cold. I paddled along with the current, allowing it to drag me downstream as quickly as it could take me.

I glanced over my shoulder, but the water threw me around so much I couldn't focus on the shore behind me. I couldn't see where the big black wolf had got to. I couldn't smell him, either. All I could see, taste and hear was the rushing, churning water.

The icy water stabbed at me like thousands of tiny needles. I bumped my way through jagged rocks and over frothing rapids, plunging underwater and spinning wildly as I fought to gain control. I still couldn't see the wolf anywhere, and his voice had gone from my mind. I couldn't smell anything but water and fish.

Only when the pain became unbearable did I decide to leave the safety of the water. I dragged myself up onto the bank, allowing myself only a moment to catch my breath and shake off as much of the frigid water as I could, before plunging into the forest again.

As I ran, I sniffed the air, but my senses had grown dull. I couldn't make out the trails of animals that had scurried across the forest floor, nor smell the whiff of fresh carrion from a recent predator kill. Colours grew brighter, more luminous. That could only mean one thing.

My front legs cracked and buckled, and I plunged face-first into the dirt. I tried to get up, but my knees bent back on themselves, and I fell back into the mud. My paws sought for purchase, and as I tried to grip the nearest tree, my claws shrunk back and my toes grew out, becoming hands once more. My pelt retreated back into my skin, and the wildness in my veins dimmed, fading to a dull roar.

The full moon was over. I was no longer stuck as a wolf. Now I was a naked man in the middle of the forest, miles from my mate, with no weapon, map or compass, and at least two very angry wolves on my trail.

_Great._

I squinted up at the sky, hunting for a peek of the sun through the thick trees and cloud. I estimated the time based on its height and the amount of time since I'd left Anna's tent as around 9:30am. I walked over the map of this area of the forest in my head, locating the road I'd parked on in relation to the river. With a vague direction in mind, I shifted back into my wolf form, and started to trot.

Weariness seeped into my veins. I'd barely slept in two days, and all the worry over Anna's safety had fried my brain to mush.

I hit the road an hour later, and dashed along through the trees, my eyes darting everywhere, imagining I saw a wolf lurking behind every trunk or nestled in the crook of each low-hanging branch. After a few miles, I could just make out the outline of my jeep, parked at the end of the dirt road. It was still there. I transformed back into my human form. My bare feet stung as they slapped against the freezing mud. I looked forward to the fresh clothing I'd stored in the back. And the chance to sit down.

I slowed to a walk and circled around the edge of the clearing, sniffing every trunk for a sign of the wolves. I caught the faintest whiff of the red wolf, but the scent was either old or far away. I was safe, for now.

I stepped out of the trees, and made my way towards the vehicle. I'd barely gone two steps when the scent hit me full on.

_Werewolf._

My blood turned cold. One of them – the red wolf – was coming straight towards me through the trees. Branches snapped. Leaves rustled. The deep growls of a hungry, angry wolf rumbled through my body. I couldn't see him, but I could hear him, smell him. He'd be on me in a moment. And I was in the open, in my human form, with no weapon – completely vulnerable.

In the split second I had to make a decision, I opted not to change into my wolf form. I was exhausted after my run-in with the black wolf, and I doubted I'd win in a fight. Instead, I went for the crowbar I kept in the truck. I dived for the wheel arch of the jeep, my hands fumbling for the keys I'd hidden underneath. I grabbed at the hook I hung them on, but they weren't there.

"Looking for these?" a deep voice said.

I whirled around. A man stood at the edge of the clearing, holding up my keys. Unlike me, he was already dressed, in dark jeans and a canvas work shirt, the buttons only done up halfway, revealing a muscular chest covered with tattoos. Long red hair hung over his penetrating brown eyes. It was the red wolf, all right. He smirked at me, and tossed my keys up into the air, catching them in his fist.

"Go on," he said, still dangling the keys from his fingers. "I won't stop you."

I growled, tossing up whether I should change back into my wolf form and attack him. It was sorely tempting, but I needed to find out more about him. And the only way to do that would be to somehow get him talking. I prepared myself, ready to shift in a moment if he advanced on me. "What do you want?"

He took a step forward, entering the clearing. He raised his head and sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling. "Your mate has stood here," he said. "I can smell her scent all over these trees."

"She hasn't been here," I said. But when I inhaled, I could sense her, too.

"Oh, really?" He smirked. "You didn't take her here in that dump truck of yours, a little wilderness adventure?"

Perhaps it was her scent on my own body. But that should have washed off in the river. _Has he done something to her?_ The black wolf's words echoed through me. _More will die._

"If you've done anything to hurt Anna—"

"Relax." He held up a hand in mock surrender. "I haven't touched her. Yet."

"Stay away from her," I warned. I kept my eyes glued on him, but I shuffled along the side of the truck, inching towards the cab. I had a hunting knife in the driver's side door. If he pulled anything, I could smash the window and grab it.

"No can do, I'm afraid, Luke. She's an important part of my plan."

"What do you want? How do you know my name?"

"I've been watching you ever since you arrived. I know your first name, your shoe size, and more about you than you think. And as for what I want, I've already told you. These caves belong to my family. I'm here to take back the territory that is mine, and that includes the girl. If that means I have to fight you, then so be it."

My blood boiled. Who did this guy think he was? _"My_ family has claim over this place. So you can just take your little wolf arse back to whatever backwater jungle you crawled out of and go back to cuddling monkeys or whatever it is you do with your time."

The wolf puffed out his chest, his eyes flashing with anger. "Be careful with words you cannot take back. My name is Caleb Lowe. I'm the son of Amos Lowe. My father died protecting these caves. By rights, they belong to me."

I stared at the man in disbelief. "You mean to tell me, we're... cousins?"

"We are?" That stopped him short.

I pointed to my chest. "Luke Lowe, son of Walter Lowe. I thought I was the only surviving member of the Lowe pack."

"This doesn't make sense." The wolf rubbed his forehead, his eyes narrowed. " _I'm_ the only surviving Lowe."

"I'm as surprised as you are." I gestured to the door of the car. "Can I put some pants on?"

"And have you pull some weapon on me? Not going to happen, Luke. What you need to do is explain how it is that your father came to not be dead, and how you found the caves."

"I take it you know what happened at the caves all those years ago, with the villagers—"

"—and the fire and brimstone and torches and pitchforks." Caleb made a stabbing motion with his fist. "I know. My mother told me the whole story. What she didn't tell me about was you."

"Your mother? But how—"

"We'll get to me. You first, little cousin."

I bristled at the insult, but decided it best not to challenge Caleb while I was... tackle out. "Fine. My—I should say, _our_ grandmother saw the villagers coming. She was a powerful psychic. At the time she had her vision, she was sleeping in the cave with my father. Our grandfather had taken the two older cubs out to hunt, but my father wasn't yet old enough to join them. When the vision overcame her, grandmother wrote a warning into the painting on the cave wall, in the hopes the others – who were still not back from their hunt – might see it upon their return and join them in hiding. She then ran into the forest with my father, covered them both in mud and leaves to mask their scent, and they hid in the trunk of a rotting oak. The villagers came, found the caves empty, and started searching the woods, creating all kinds of noise that drew my grandfather back. He couldn't sense his wife or son anywhere nearby. Assuming the villages had already killed them, he set upon them with my brothers, and their rage cost three human lives before the villagers managed to overpower the wolves."

"Shit," Caleb cursed. "How do you know all this?"

"My father told me. He said the scene from that day was permanently etched into his mind. His mother saw it too, and she became distraught. She fled their hiding place and went to confront the mob. They were shocked to see her – a human woman – risking her life to help her wolf husband, but their shock turned to fear and anger as they realised she was complicit in the death of this innocent child. In their fury, the villagers killer her, too. My father watched from his hiding place as they stove her head in. But they didn't find him. He was the only survivor."

"I never knew he survived," Caleb growled. "If I had, I would have found you much earlier."

"Why, so you could beat me up and steal all my toys?"

Caleb snorted. "We're family. Together we could have re-established our pack."

"I'm not establishing anything except who you are and how you're related to me. And who's the black wolf with you? Is he related to me, also? Why is he warning me that more people will die?"

At the mention of the black wolf, Caleb's body stiffened. "He's definitely not with me, and he's definitely dangerous. He's attacked me once, and I barely escaped with my life." He pointed to an angry gash along the side of his torso. "If he says he's killed... I believe it. The black wolf wants to claim the caves, too. He has powers I didn't even know were possible. Somehow, he can mask his scent for short distances. The other day I tracked him for several miles across the forest, but he evaded me in the end. The track was a dud. I think he'd planted it to try and lure me away. And you too, since you followed me." Caleb frowned.

"So then what's your story? Are you some kind of immaculate conception?"

"Nothing as dramatic is that, cousin. My mother was already with child when Robert Peyton led the villagers to the caves. Amos was preparing to leave the family pack in order to establish a pack of his own with my mother. If he'd been able to do that, the Lowe name would have lived on. But he never got that chance. When my mother Maria heard what had happened in the forest, she packed up a little food and warm clothing and ran away to Scotland, where no one knew the name of Lowe or the curse that followed us. I was born in Aberdeen, and my mother married the alpha there and had two more sons. He has never accepted me as his own, favouring his own children within the pack. I hated it there. I was sixteen when I left the pack and lived wild." Caleb glanced around him at the trees, and my beaten-up truck. "I see we have that in common, Ranger Luke."

"Indeed." I wanted to believe this guy. If what he said was true, it meant I had family – a cousin, an aunt. It was a tenuous connection to the past, to the kind of life my father had always wanted but could never hope to attain. But every fibre of my body screamed _danger._ I couldn't afford to trust Caleb, not with Anna in the picture.

"Maria made sure to tell me of my history, my birthright. I've visited these caves several times over the years, but I knew I needed a mate before I came back to establish my pack. No one else seemed to want Crookshollow, so I let it be. But when I saw the archaeological excavation in the paper, I came here as fast as I could. I intended to stop the team digging up all that shit about our family again. And luckily, a perfectly serviceable mate happened to be right here. It couldn't be more perfect."

"We are _cousins,_ Caleb." I gritted my teeth. "We both have an equal right to this place. And Anna has already been claimed, by me."

Caleb gave me a sad grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Luke. It's nice to know that I have some family left in the world. But I'm still going to have to ask you to step aside. As the son of the elder brother, I am the alpha here."

I laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am. I want this territory. My whole life I've wanted to establish a new Lowe pack, my own pack, as a fitting legacy for my father. And it has to be here, to reclaim the territories lost. With few wolves left in England, I'm sure to quickly dominate this region, maybe one day even challenge the Scottish pack. And with a strong mate like Anna by my side—"

"Excuse me." His words made my skin crawl. _"_ You want _my_ mate? That's not the way this works, and you know it. Anna is mine. You cannot simply take her."

"Of course I know the way it works. Each of us has one mate who is ours alone, whose DNA is compatible and whose companionship completes us. But that doesn't mean she can't be of use in my pack. Wolves have shared mates for many centuries, when the needs of the pack required it. Anna is a powerful vessel, and she will make strong cubs. I have searching the length of this country and have not found my own mate, nor another girl as suitable as her. So I _will_ have her. If you wish to keep her as well, then you may join my pack as the beta. Together, we will be stronger. But if you do not give her to me, I will fight you for her. And I will win."

"Excuse me." Anna's voice cut through our conversation. "It's rude to talk about people behind their backs."

I whirled around. Anna stepped out from behind a tree, coming to stand in the middle of the clearing, directly between Caleb and me. She stared at us both defiantly.

"You're alive!" My heart soared. I took a step towards her. She held up her hand.

"Of course I am."

"How did you get here?" I demanded, taking another step. Anna shot me a furious look.

"Don't come any closer just yet. I'm not sure I want either of you anywhere near me. As for how I got here, I followed Luke's tire tracks in the road. There aren't that many paths in this part of the forest. It was easy enough to find." Anna jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm parked a hundred metres down the road there. You two are so busy pissing at each other, you didn't even hear me pull up."

"You came all this way just to tell me you want me, princess." Caleb smirked. "I'm very humbled."

"Talk to Anna like that again, and I'll wipe that smirk off your face," I warned.

"Stop it, both of you!" Anna yelled. I winced as her voice echoed through the trees. "There are more important things we need to discuss."

"Is that why you're here? Did something happen?" The black wolf's warning pulsed in my mind. _More will die. More will die..._

"I read in the paper that the full moon was officially over, and Frances didn't need me on site, so I came here to surprise you with what I discovered. Only I'm the one who got the surprise."

"Anna, I—"

"I don't even want to hear it. This whole conversation has been disgusting. I'm not just some breeding factory you can trade like businessmen arguing over stock options. I have my own needs and desires." Anna glared at me with such venom, the hair on my neck stood on end. I could feel my cock shrink back up into my body. She turned her gaze to Caleb. "You've just discovered you have a real living relative, and the first thing you do is challenge him to a fight? Hardly the protective, family-first alpha I'd expect."

Caleb started to say something, but Anna held up her hand for silence.

"I'm not anybody's mate to be traded," she said firmly. "Let's clear that up right now. And that goes for _both_ of you." She glared at me. Shame burned my face. "I haven't agreed to be anybody's mate, despite what may have happened in the heat of the moment. Now, can you two stop this ridiculous macho competitive thing for a minute. We need to work together."

"Who put you in charge?" Caleb sneered at her. I knew that he did not intend to stop, not at all. "And why do we have to work together?"

"I put myself in charge, because I'm clearly the only one mature enough to handle the responsibility. And we're working together because I've discovered something about your family, from the paintings your grandmother left behind in the cave. A wolf didn't kill that child. It was a priest, and my suspicions is, it was one of the men in the Peyton family."

"You mean, the Lowe were innocent all along?" I demanded. I couldn't believe it. My mind whirled with emotions. My family was innocent of the crime. My father had carried the guilt of his family shame for nothing. He had suffered greatly, wondering which of his brothers had attacked the child. He'd gone to his grave believing his family carried a dark secret. But it wasn't true, and I could never tell him that. A lump rose in my throat, but I pushed it back down. My veins hummed with anger, with a wild sense of injustice.

All that guilt my father had carried around for so many years. The shame of bearing the Lowe name... it had all been for nothing.

Anna nodded. "I told you this last night, but from your expression, I realise you'd fallen asleep."

"This is true?" Caleb demanded. "You're not making this up?"

"I'm an archaeologist, not a storyteller. I'm sure I'm right, I just need to try and prove it."

"Why?" Caleb's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"

"You mean besides helping you two clear your family name?" Anna looked at him, and then to me, her face confused for a moment. "I realise you wolves aren't inclined to believe that humans can have altruistic motives. But there is something—" she paused.

"A-hah," Caleb stepped forward. "I knew there was a but."

"Those paintings aren't tens of thousands of years old, like my professor and her dippy graduate think. And I intend to prove it, without revealing your secret to the world. But in order to do that, I need to figure out exactly what's going on. Now," Anna walked over to Caleb and held out her hand. "Keys."

"Don't you touch her," I growled. Caleb shook me a filthy look, but he dropped my keys into Anna's hand. She walked over to me.

"Much as I like you like this," she said grinning, running her hand over my bare shoulder, "it's time to get dressed."

"I love it when you get bossy," I growled. I pressed my mouth to hers, pulling her body against mine. My cock stiffened as she kissed me back, her hands gripping my shoulders. As her tongue slid over mine, all my desire for her welled up inside of me. It had been two long, agonizing days without her skin next to mine. I needed to remedy that, as soon as possible.

I spun Anna around, pressing her back against the side of my truck. My hands skimmed her body, rubbing her stiffening nipples through the thick fabric of her shirt and thermal vest. I gripped the bottom of her shirt, preparing to tear her clothes off and take her right there—

"Luke, no," Anna protested, her hands clamping down over mine. "As much as I want this, we can't do it here."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, I might be very tempted to join in." Caleb piped up from behind me. My body shook with fury. Why couldn't he just go away?

"And we have a little trip to make." Anna held up the keys. I took them from her and unlocked the door, hunting around the back seat until I found my clothes and boots. I pulled on my jeans, stuffing my very insistent cock down the waistband. Anna patted my arm.

"Later tonight," she said, her smile inviting. "Maybe."

"I don't know if I'll last that long," I growled back.

"I'll make it worth your while." Anna's touch lingered on my arm. The familiar sparks of our connection fired off between us.

"You two make me sick." Caleb grabbed the passenger side door, and climbed in. "Where are we going?"

"The two of you are going back to the site, to guard the cave against any other wolves who might show up there." Anna slid out from under my arm and stalked off towards the road. "I am heading into Crookshollow. I have some research to do."

## Chapter Seventeen

# Anna

"Anna—" Luke rapped on my car window. I knew he'd followed me back to the Mini, but I was too pissed off to turn around and look at him. Pissed off at him, yes, but also pissed off at myself. I couldn't believe how I'd acted before, falling into Luke's arms as soon as he touched me. I wasn't supposed to do that. I was supposed to yell at him until he understood that he couldn't treat me like some chattel. But one look into his green eyes and I melted like an ice cream in the Brighton sun. Embarrassed, I stared down at my jeans and turned the key again. _Damn car picked a fine time not to start._

"Anna!" Luke growled. "Open this door so we can talk."

"Not now." I kept my head down. I didn't want him to see how red my face was. "Take Caleb back to the camp."

"And just parade him around in front of everyone? What do I tell Frances?"

"Tell her he's your long-lost werewolf cousin who tried to kill you last night and wants me to shag him even though I've never met him. I don't know, Luke. Make something up."

"I'm not leaving you. There's another wolf out there. He says he's already killed—"

Another wolf. This just kept getting better. I gripped the wheel. "That's not my problem. I'm not in the mood to be near you right now."

"You're mad."

"Damn right." The engine turned over once, but puttered out again. I ground my teeth together. _This is ridiculous._

"Because Caleb and I were fighting over you?"

I nodded furiously, still avoiding looking at him. Actually, it had been kind of flattering. I'd never had two guys that hot both wanting to sleep with me before. But that didn't make what he'd been doing right. "And because you were standing there talking about my life, my future, as though I didn't matter."

"But you were flirting before." He sounded dejected. _Good._

"You were naked. And your cousin was there. It wasn't appropriate for me to express just how angry I am."

"What we did in front of him wasn't very _appropriate,_ either. You're very confusing."

"Haven't you ever been with a woman before?" I turned the key again. The Mini spluttered to life.

"Can't we just talk?"

"Nope." I backed away, my head over my shoulder. I yanked the wheel hard around. Luke leapt back as the Mini bumped over the rutted road, veering dangerously close to the wide ditch. At the last second it righted itself, and I clattered off in the direction of Crookshollow, Luke's forlorn face haunting me from the rearview mirror.

_Fuck him for acting like a caveman._ I couldn't believe the way they were carrying on, fighting over me like I was the last piece of steak on the BBQ. I figured the best way to solve their issue was to make them work together to guard their family legacy. Plus, it would be good to get some distance from Luke, now that he was a human again. My body still pulsed with desire for him. I wanted nothing more than to turn the car around and go back to him, beg him to take me hard across the bonnet. But then I'd just be telling him that acting like that was completely okay, and it wasn't.

I was only just starting to gain control of my life after Dad and Ben. I wouldn't let anyone take that away from me. Not even Luke. Not even if I secretly, deep down, desperately wanted to be his mate.

I tried to force Luke out of my mind. I replaced his gorgeous face with Ruth's stuck-up smirk. I drove back towards Crookshollow village, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel and imagining the look on her face when I revealed that the paintings weren't neolithic.

As soon as I exited the canopy of the forest and my phone beeped to inform me I had reception again, I pulled over and texted Derek. He texted back immediately, inviting me to come on over.

For once, the weather was worse in Crookshollow village than it was in the forest. Rain pounded down in sheets. There was hardly anyone on the road, and the high street was practically deserted, many of the shops shut up for the day. I pulled into a car park in front of Derek's flat, yanked my hood over my head, and ran for the door.

"Anna!" He embraced me, his muscles straining. Derek was a total fitness addict. He was always at the gym or going for a run or participating in one of those bootcamps where you swung on ropes like Tarzan. That meant his hugs could be quite intense.

"Derek... I can't breathe." I flailed my arms uselessly as he squeezed the air from my lungs.

Derek released me. "You smell awful," he said, grinning as he ran his fingers through his short, wavy black hair.

"I really wish everyone would stop pointing that out."

"It's hard to miss. Do you want a shower?"

I flopped down on his overstuffed sofa, glancing up at the giant print of Zeus in his war chariot that hung over Derek's bookcase. Derek's whole flat was covered with prints of famous mythological figures and celestial bodies. Mine was covered with postcards and magazine cutouts of places I wanted to travel to, ruins I wanted to explore. We were quite similar, in many ways. I guess it wasn't a big surprise that he'd liked me. "No thanks. I'll do it back at my flat. I will take a cup of tea, though."

"Or a glass of wine?"

"What about both?"

Derek laughed, and headed for the kitchen. I heard the kettle start to boil and the clink of wine glasses.

I stretched out on the sofa and kicked my shoes off, the way I'd always done when visiting Derek's cramped bachelor flat. Living with three other guys, no one would ever notice the stench wafting from my thick wool socks. "I just wondered if you could help me with some research?"

"Sure thing," Derek called back. "Is this about the cave paintings?"

"How do you know about those?"

"They've been all over the news. It's quite an exciting discovery. I bet Ruth must be thrilled."

"Ruth?"

"You know, being the first person to discover the paintings." Derek cleared a space on the table and set down a steaming cup of tea and a wine glass filled to the brim. "I bet she'll get her name in all kinds of archaeology textbooks now."

"I was the one who found them!" I screamed, beating my head against Derek's sofa in frustration. Derek laughed, and pushed the glass of wine towards me.

"I can see you need this more than you need the tea. Not that you're bitter or anything." He slumped down next to me, placing his arm casually around my shoulders. "All I can say is, welcome to the world of academia. But don't worry, you got your name in at least one article."

"Huh?"

"Check the front page of the _Daily Post_ website."

A terrible sinking feeling grew in my stomach as I clicked on my phone and navigated to the tabloid website.

### WIDOW OF DEAD HIKER KEEPING HIS RECKLESS LEGACY ALIVE

> Article by Misty Sharpe
> 
> _Anna Sinclair, 22, girlfriend of hiker Ben Brownstone who died horrifically when he fell down a waterfall in Crookshollow Forest five months ago, hasn't wasted any time getting back into the devil-may-care lifestyle. We interviewed Sinclair from a remote site in that same forest, where she is working with a team on a dangerous treasure-hunting expedition in a cave. When asked if the caves were dangerous, Sinclair exclaimed excitedly that there were slips and falling hazards, and expressed her regret that an onsite forest ranger was making them adhere to safety guidelines._
> 
> _Adrenaline-junkie Sinclair took us down to view the recently-uncovered cave paintings, despite the fact neither this reporter, nor her photographer were wearing appropriate shoes. She dismissed our concerns about the safety of the caves, saying she wouldn't let a little thing like the death of her boyfriend stop her living her life. She then asked us not to print that particular statement..._

_No._ My throat closed over. _This can't be happening._

I scanned the rest of the article, horrified that they had turned what was supposed to be a report about the find into a piece about how I was dishonouring Ben's memory by committing the same foolhardy mistakes as he had.

"I can't believe it." I slammed my phone down on the table. "They twisted around everything I said. And some of it they just plain made up!"

"It's the _Daily Post,_ what do you expect?"

"My professors are going to read it. I'll never be allowed on another archaeological site again." I buried my face in my hands.

"It'll be fine." Derek squeezed my arm. His tone was reassuring, kind, the way he'd been with me through the whole time I was dealing with Ben's death. "Forget that article. It will be wrapped around people's fish and chips by tomorrow. Now, what did you want my help with? Archaeologists and mythology students don't usually have joint interests."

"I want to know about werewolves. Specifically, werewolf myths associated with England."

"Any particular reason?"

"I believe the cave paintings aren't as old as Frances and Ruth believe they are. I just need to prove it academically, without having to fork out my entire year's scholarship for the carbon dating lab fee. One of the friezes depicts a man transforming into a wolf, and there is a lot of other wolf imagery. I need to look at some other examples of this type of imagery and mythology and put forward a case for the actual period the paintings are dated to."

"So, basically, a contextual art thesis?"

I nodded. "It might work with the clothing, or a particular type of flora and fauna shown, but I thought the mythology was a good place to begin. I need to build a really solid case to take down Ruth."

"I'm happy to help." Derek went to his bookshelf and started pulling out books, setting aside a small stack. "These will do for a start. I believe I've even got a book on animal depictions throughout British prehistoric artwork... ah, here it is." He dumped a heavy volume on my lap.

"Thanks, Derek." I fingered the gilded edges of the book. It looked old and expensive and important. "Are you sure you don't mind me borrowing these? You don't need them for an essay or anything?"

"They're all yours. But, you know, the easiest thing would be if you just took me up to look at the paintings."

"I don't know... Frances has a pretty tight grip on access. I don't know if she'd let you on there unless you had a BBC camera strapped to your back or a _Time Team_ trowel in your hand."

"Come on, Anna. I could totally help you expedite this process."

"Okay, sure. I'll bring you some photographs next time."

"I mean the real thing." Derek gave me an intense gaze. "Take me to see the paintings."

I stopped short. "Oh. I don't know..."

"Come on, Anna. What harm can it do? I've visited you on sites before. I'm not exactly going to fall into a pit of scorpions."

Was that a good idea, with all the craziness out on site right now? Luke's face flashed into my mind. He'd said something today about another wolf, a wolf who had killed. I knew Luke would be pissed off if I brought Derek to the site, knowing the black wolf was watching us. But Derek knew a lot more about this kind of stuff than I did, and he might be able to point out some more features of the paintings we hadn't noticed. It definitely didn't hurt to try.

_Luke will just have to deal. He's not running this show. I am._

I flipped open my phone and checked the list of call times for various news outlets Frances had given me. "Why don't you drive out tomorrow, around nine am? We've got a film crew arriving about ten, so that should give you plenty of time to look at the paintings before they start swinging around their lights. Bring a camera and a notebook and brush your hair. I'll tell Frances you're from _National Geographic_ and we won't have a problem."

"I'll be there. This is exciting!" Derek clinked glasses with me. I slugged back my wine, and chased it down with the lukewarm tea. We caught up on all the university gossip for another hour or so, until my pores started to sweat from all the dirt lodged inside them. Time for a shower.

Twenty minutes later I was at Mum's flat, rapping on the door. "It's me, Anna," I called out, a lump of panic rising in my throat as I banged on the door and no one answered. "Let me in!"

_Had she slipped in the shower? Was she lying at the bottom of the stairs? Had she forgotten to eat for three days straight and died of starvation? This was all my fault for leaving her—_

After five minutes of non-stop banging, our neighbour Mrs. Barnaby yelled out the window for me to stop the racket. "She's not home," she snapped. "I saw her leave about an hour ago, with that young friend of hers."

"Cynthia?"

In reply, Mrs. Barnaby tossed my mother's spare key at me, and slammed the door in my face.

That was a relief. I unlocked the door. The place looked a little cleaner than I remembered. There was a bit of food in the fridge, and the scrapbook wasn't lying open on the sofa. I smiled when I noticed Cynthia's handbag sitting on the kitchen counter, my new tarot deck peeking out from the side pocket. _That Cynthia. She may believe in tarot cards, but if she's finally got Mum to come around again, she's my favourite person._

With Mum's whereabouts still unaccounted for, I decided it was time for that shower. I shoved my clothes into the laundry and climbed into the shower, letting the hot water soak away my fears from the day.

I was still angry with Luke over the way he'd spoken about me with Caleb, but now that I had some distance from the forest, I wondered if I might have overreacted, just a tiny bit. I was concerned about how attached I'd got to him so quickly, and like my mum retreating from reality in order to protect herself from more pain, I was looking for any excuse to retreat from Luke, because in my head I was worried that he'd be killed, and I'd have to live with the grief of losing another man in my life.

_And he said there is another wolf, a wolf who has killed..._

This was stupid. I couldn't live my life being afraid of death all the time. The way my body had reacted when Luke touched me... that was what I needed. That was the reality I should be grounding myself in. Ben had been fond of saying, "Life's too short." That's why he spent so much time hiking and rock climbing and not doing his schoolwork. Ben didn't even own a mobile phone. He thought life was too short to spend it staring at a screen.

Well, maybe life _was_ too short for me to give up on Luke. I'd been lucky to have loved Ben, but he was gone now. And Luke... he was very definitely _not_ gone. He made my body feel like no one else, and he made me want to be bold and bright and adventurous. I hadn't felt that way in a long time.

_This is all so complicated. I wish someone could just tell me what to do._ But that was the old Anna talking, the one who accommodated everyone else's needs at the expense of herself. The one who didn't go to Cambridge and who swapped her field school at a Sicilian villa for the damp, miserable Crookshollow Forest. I wasn't sure I was that girl anymore.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and crossed the hall to my bedroom to find some clean clothes. I was rooting through my drawers for some underwear when I felt a strong finger slide along the side of my neck.

"I love a girl who's wet for me," a husky voice whispered against my ear.

I jumped a mile in the air, my heart jackhammering against my chest. My towel slipped down my torso. I spun around. "Luke!"

"Anna." His fingers traced the line of my collarbone, the touch turning my fear to passion.

"Don't scare me like that," I scolded him. "I'm really not in the mood."

"Your nipples say otherwise." Luke touched a finger to my breast, my nipple hardening under his caress. A small moan escaped my throat. My body remained rigid, on high alert, every sense tingling with sweet anticipation. The humming energy surged around us, drawing us together like magnets.

"I am still angry with you," I managed to choke out, but the words sounded unsure. I'd forgotten what I was angry about.

"That's why I came." Luke moved closer to me, his chest pressing against mine. Heat pulsed through his shirt, searing my naked skin. His fingers danced over the edge of my neck, around my nipples, teasing me with the lightest touch. "I was going to surprise you in the shower, but I decided under the circumstances, it was a bit sleazy."

"And waiting in my bedroom for me is less so?" I said, finding my self-control at last. I yanked my towel up over my chest and tried to duck away from him, but he stepped towards me, cutting off my path to the dresser. The only way around Luke would be to go across the bed, and under the circumstances I thought that might give the wrong message.

Besides, my skin burned from his touch. I didn't want him to stop. Not really.

"Point taken." Luke gripped my shoulder, his face suddenly serious. "I didn't mean to flirt. It's just hard to resist when you're all naked and damp and gorgeous. I really _did_ come to talk, and to make sure you were okay. I was worried about you. I didn't like the way we left things, especially not when there's at least two dangerous wolves out there."

"So you thought you'd break into my house and scare me? How did you get in, anyway?"

"You left the front door unlocked. I needed to check you were safe."

"I'm fine, Luke. I'm a little annoyed. I don't like being talked about as though I'm some sow you're haggling over at a market."

"I get that, and I'm sorry. It's the wolf in me. He comes to the surface sometimes, especially so soon after the full moon. All that adrenaline and instinct haven't quite left my veins yet. We're very possessive, especially of our mates. It can sound a little primal if you're not used to it, but no offense was meant."

"You keep saying that word. _Mate_. What does it mean? I mean, I know what it _means._ But what is a mate to you?"

Luke paused. "I'm not sure I should tell you. I think it might be something you'll add to that list of things you don't like."

"That's for me to decide. Before we go any further, I want to know exactly what I am to you."

"Werewolves retain many of the primal animal instincts of their wolf half. One of those instincts is to breed and carry on the genetic line, passing on our wolfish genes to the next generation. The wolf genes are passed through the male line, but only females with certain genes can give birth to a werewolf."

"That makes sense." Clara hadn't told me that.

"We're guided to these females by scent. A potential mate gives off a very distinctive odour. They're very rare, and it's not unheard of for a wolf to go through their entire life without finding a mate, especially when the genes are recessive and can disappear from a line. Wolves believe there is only one mate for them in the world, and that mate is drawn to them, just as much as they are drawn to her." Luke's eyes bore into mine. "That's why we both ended up at this site. It's fate, the universe, whatever you call it, trying to draw us together."

"But we didn't know each other! I didn't even know I had this... wolf gene."

"Yes, but you weren't meant to go to this excavation, were you? I remember you saying neolithic archaeology wasn't your thing."

I thought back to my conversation with Professor Hicks. "You mean Becky Masters wanting my place on the Sicily dig was no accident?"

"Huh?"

Briefly I explained about Becky's accident and how I'd ended up taking her place on the Crookshollow dig. "I don't particularly like Becky, but I hate the idea that I was somehow responsible for landing her in hospital."

"It wasn't your fault at all." Luke grinned. "The universe finally saw a chance to get us together, and events fell into place to make it so. It happens to so many wolves. It happened to my grandparents, too."

"You mean... you think we're destined to be together?"

Luke nodded solemnly. "I do. Does that scare you?"

"Yes," I whispered, reaching up with my hand and running my fingers over his cheek, tracing the line of stubble along his jaw. "No. maybe... I don't know. It _feels_ right, and that scares me. I can't explain why, but I believe it."

"You don't know how pleased I am to hear that," Luke growled, and claimed my mouth in a fierce kiss. Heat surged through my body as his tongue slid over mine. My core throbbed with desire – it had been too long since he'd been inside me. I wanted him bad.

I broke the kiss after a few moments, panting hard. "I still have questions."

"Can they wait?" Luke bent to kiss me again.

I shook my head, even though my body screamed in protest at being wrenched away from Luke yet again. "If I'm your mate, then why does Caleb think he can 'claim' me?"

"As the son of my father's older brother, Caleb would technically be alpha of any new Lowe pack. That means he has mating rights over the females in the pack, even if they are mated to another. That right isn't usually exercised, but Caleb seems particularly keen on you." Luke leaned forward and stroked my naked thigh, just below where the towel stopped. "I can't say I blame him."

My whole body shuddered, but I needed to know more before I let him tear my towel away. "But I'm not in this pack. I haven't agreed to be part of any pack."

"To wolves like Caleb, what you think doesn't count." Luke knitted his fingers between mine. "That's why I'll have to fight him, to establish the order of our pack. Once I've established myself as an equal rival, he won't come after you. He'll have to treat you with all the respect due to a member of his own family."

"I don't want you to fight him. Did you see his arms? They're like tree trunks. He could snap your neck as easily as opening a jar of pickles."

"I'm not afraid of him, or his pickle jar–opening abilities." Luke flexed the muscles in his arm. "I can take him."

"He's your cousin. Maybe you could try being nice to him?"

"That's not how wolves work. Besides, I don't trust him."

"Why not?"

Luke shrugged. "All sorts of reasons. Why has he only just shown up in my life now, when the paintings came to light? How could he have been out there all those years without my father learning about him? Why did he never try to find _us_?"

"That same reason you never tried to find him. He thought he was the only one—"

"I don't want to talk about Caleb anymore," Luke growled. He cupped my chin in his strong hand and pulled my face to his. "I have something else on my mind."

"What's that?"

Luke's lips slammed against mine, all his desire welling up into the kiss. His lips forced mine apart, his tongue bombarding me. I wrapped my arms around him, and all thoughts of Caleb and mating and the caves flew from my mind. My core throbbed as I gave in to the urgency and hunger of our kiss.

As our kiss heated up, Luke walked me backward into the bathroom. "I like the idea of you all dripping wet," he whispered, as he reached behind me and turned the shower back on.

I leaned in to kiss him and he tore the towel away from me. Steam rolled off the shower, making my skin warm and slick. Luke slid his hands down my torso, his fingers leaving trails of fire across my sensitive skin. He ran a single finger between my legs, right along my slit, and my core thundered with pleasure. God, I wanted him, right now.

"Hey, both of us have to be naked." I lunged for him, and grabbed the edge of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. I slid my hands over his muscled torso, enjoying the way his tattoos moved as he did, the colours shifting.

"Pants next," I said, grabbing for his belt. I fumbled with the buckle as Luke's tongue attacked mine. I could already feel his cock straining against the fly of his jeans.

"As you wish." Luke tugged down his jeans, kicking them away. From beneath his boxers, his cock stood proud. I pulled them off, bending over him as he stepped out. The head of his cock bobbed just in front of my eyes.

The length of it still shocked me. It was so big it looked like it belonged on the set of a porn film. I'd never been with a guy who was so huge before, nor looked at a cock and wanted to touch it so bad, to wrap my mouth around it and feel him jerk against my lips. I reached out tentatively with my tongue and touched it to the tip.

Luke groaned. The sound made my core surge with pleasure. I felt powerful. I took the head into my mouth, enjoying the taste of him. Warm and earthy and slightly salty. I'd never given much head before – Ben found it hard to relax and enjoy it, and I'd done it to other guys I'd been with more out of a sense of obligation, but with Luke, I couldn't wait to put my hands all over his cock.

I stroked him slowly, alternating my mouth and my hands. Luke's fingers entwined in my hair. "Anna..." he groaned. God, I loved it when he said my name.

I slid my tongue down the length of his shaft, marvelling at how big it was. My hands pumped it faster as my tongue circled the tip, pressing into the little v just below the head. Luke curled his fingers in my hair, his breath hitching as his leg muscles clenched. Knowing I had this effect on him made my whole body flush with heat.

"No more of this," Luke breathed. With a grunt of effort, he grabbed me under the shoulders, lifted me off my feet, and placed me under the shower.

The rush of hot water over my flushed body made me shudder with delight, but not nearly as much as when Luke climbed in beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his tongue darting into my mouth.

Luke pulled me towards him, the warmth of skin against skin burning through my body, lighting every nerve ending on fire. He guided me under the stream of water, adjusting the head so it dribbled a light pattering of water over both our bodies.

"Oh dear," he said, picking up the soap and loofah from the shelf where I kept them. "You are a very dirty girl."

"I just had a shower."

"Go with it." Luke rubbed the soap over the loofah, building up a nice lather. He alternated strokes with the loofah with his hands, drumming his fingers against my body. His touch sent shivers of delight through me as he soaped along my shoulder-blades, lathering across my chest, just brushing the tips of my nipples. I moaned. Of course I would go with it.

"I'm filthy. I need more soap." I leaned my back against the side of the shower, bracing myself as he lathered me from head to toe. He unhooked the shower nozzle and used that to wash off the soap, licking and kissing.

I moaned as he trained the shower head against my nipple. The jets pounded against my sensitive flesh, bringing a whole new range of sensations. The heat, the pressure... it was part pleasure, part pain, all wonderful. Luke moved the head to the other nipple, alternating the water pressure with sucking and blowing until I was begging him for more.

"As you wish." He trailed the head across my stomach, slowly, slowly inching lower. And then, he took it away, leaving me dripping.

"Luke—" I growled with frustration, my core throbbing with need.

The shower head was thrust between my legs, and the jets of hot water hit my most sensitive parts. I bucked against the wall as the pressure built up inside me. Who could believe he could do this to my body with just water?

Luke moved the shower head down my legs, teasing the sensitive skin between my thighs as he pushed a finger inside me. I moaned, bucking my hips forward, not even caring that I was begging for more. He pushed a second finger inside, then brought the head back up, pressing it hard against my clit.

"Luke... I... I..." Breathing was hard.

"Yes?" He angled the head away and pressed a finger against my clit, moving it in slow circles, giving me soft when I desperately wanted hard. Just when I thought I couldn't take it, he pressed the head between my legs again, hitting me with the full force of the jets.

That threw me over the edge. The world exploded. I melted away, my body turning into molten lava and flowing down the drain. Red welts formed behind my eyes, and for a moment I lost myself.

When I came back, I was on my knees in the shower, clinging to Luke's legs. He stared down at me, stroking my damp hair, a self-satisfied smirk across his face.

"I know I'm good." He grinned. "But I didn't know I was _that_ good."

"It's my turn now." I'd wipe that self-satisfied smirk from his face. I grabbed the loofah from the corner of the shower and stood up, holding him for support as my legs were wobbling dangerously. I lathered it up, running it over his chest, following the line of soap with my hands, the way he had done. As the water washed the soap away, I kissed a trail along his chest. He kept his eyes locked on me, his expression intense.

As I ran the loofah over his throbbing cock, he sighed, "Anna." He gripped my shoulder.

I took the shower head and crossed it over his shoulders, down his chest, up the insides of his legs, anywhere but where he most wanted it to go. Two could play this game.

When he let out a frustrated groan, I knew I had him. I aimed the warm jets directly on the tip of his cock, letting the warm water wash off the soap. He dug his fingers into my shoulders. When his cock was thoroughly clean, I aimed the spray at the wall and I took him into my mouth. First the head, which I circled with my tongue, and then the shaft, deeper and deeper, pushing him down as far as he could go.

Luke wound his fingers through my hair, his eyes boring into mine as he watched me take him in again. His facial muscles twitched as the pleasure coursed through him.

He tasted clean and warm and totally, utterly masculine. As my mouth rolled over his cock, it hardened between my lips. Hard for me.

Luke kept watching me. I'd never seen a guy do that before. The eye contact was so hot, sucking Luke was making my body ache for him again. Between my legs, I throbbed with need for him.

I pumped him faster, using my hand along the length of his shaft, as my tongue licked and sucked at the tip.

"Anna," he moaned. "Please. I'm so close. I want to be inside you."

My whole body flushed with pleasure. Right now, nothing would make me more satisfied.

I removed my lips from him, and stood up carefully, not wanting to slip. Luke leaned out of the shower to grab the condom from the pocket of his jeans, and he rolled it on. His lips found mine, his tongue probing deep, hungry for me. He wrapped his powerful arms around me, smothering me with his warmth. The water pelted us as the shower head flailed around beneath us, completely abandoned. We no longer needed the heat.

Luke lifted me with ease, pressing my back against the tiles. I wrapped my legs around his torso, pulling him closer. He lined himself up, and with one thrust, he entered me, his shaft filling me to the hilt. I groaned with pleasure as we fitted together like two puzzle pieces that had found their mates. I dug my heels into his back, driving him deeper inside me. He sighed with pleasure.

"You feel so good, Anna." He braced himself against the tiles with one hand, the other gripping my arse. He began to thrust up into me. Slowly at first, our bodies moving together. Luke built up a steady rhythm, his body fitting perfectly into mine.

Warmth flooded my body, seeping through Luke's touch, and rising up within me. I'd never had a guy before who made me feel like this, as though the very act of sex was something I claimed for myself. I loved the power of his body, watching his muscles expand and contract with concentration as he thrust into me.

The pleasure built inside me, the warmth bubbling over like a kettle boiling. I dug my fingers into Luke's shoulders. He buried his face into my neck, his teeth digging into my neck, finding the same spot where he'd bitten me before. The pain arced through my body, becoming one with the pleasure welling within. I fell over the edge, my body wracked with heat. Fire seared my limbs, lighting every nerve, firing off wave after wave of pleasure.

My muscles clenched around Luke's cock. He thrust harder, his fingers digging into my arse. A low growl rose in his throat. Every muscle in his body clenched – a snake coiled in wait.

As he came, he sank his teeth into my shoulder. The pain raced through me, becoming one with the ecstasy in my veins, driving me to a new level of pleasure.

Luke collapsed against me, his body shuddering, his breath panting against my neck. He withdrew slowly, his arms still supporting me.

"Woah," he said, his eyelids heavy.

"Yeah. Woah is right."

Slowly, Luke lowered me to my feet, then leaned back against the shower wall. I turned off the water and replaced the shower head, then pulled open the door. Water pooled across the floor, the shower mat and all our clothing was completely soaked. We'd managed to fling soapy lather across the ceiling, and on the mirror. I didn't want to clean up. I wanted the mess to stay there forever, to remind me of what had happened.

I wrapped myself in a towel, and handed one to Luke. Without him inside me, my body felt empty, bereft, but still warm from his touch. I was drenched in the scent of him, high on his taste and the power he gave to me.

Luke took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. "Are you still angry with me?"

"Absolutely furious," I replied, as I sank into his arms.

Nothing made me hungry like good sex. Which meant that right now, I wa _s ravenous._

Unfortunately, I mused to myself as I searched the kitchen cupboards for a frying pan and pulled ingredients out of the fridge, if I'm going to be with Luke, I'll probably put on a hundred pounds.

Funny, but I didn't even care. What we'd just done in the shower... phew. My body still tingled from head to toe at the memory of it. Maybe being his mate wouldn't be so bad after all...

Our clothes had been utterly saturated in our antics. I'd placed everything in the dryer, and put on some leggings and a pretty wool dress from my own closet. Luke wandered around with only his towel wrapped around his hips, which I didn't have a problem with at all.

While I fixed us bacon and mushroom pasta, Luke walked around the small flat, staring at the photographs of archaeological sites covering the walls, my father's books stacked in the bookcase. He paused for a long time in front of the portrait of my father that hung above the fireplace.

"You have his eyes," Luke said, his voice husky. I knew he was thinking about his own father. "He looks like a very kind man."

"He was," I said. "He was gruff and distant and sometimes I got the feeling he didn't really know what he was supposed to do with a daughter. But he was very kind."

"Can I ask how he died?"

"He worked in a factory in Crooks Crossing. It was an old place and all the company managers lived down in London, so there wasn't a strong management presence and the place was kind of run down. A lot of the equipment broke or failed, and they were always in the paper after worker accidents. One day, my dad was working on a machine and some critical part fell off, jamming the mechanism. He needed to fix it quick, as product was still coming down the line. So he lifted the guard and reached inside." I cleared my throat. "The piece dislodged, and the mechanism basically sucked him inside."

"Shit." Luke crossed the room and scooped me up in his arms. "That's rough. I'm so sorry, Anna. How old were you?"

"Eighteen." I rested my head against his shoulder. "It's fine. It's old news now. I don't want to upset you by talking about it—"

"You don't upset me," Luke murmured into my hair. "I find you inspiring. I'm still learning how to live with this grief thing. But seeing what you've done after losing not only your father but a boyfriend, too... you're much braver than I."

"Hardly." Luke's words and the warmth of his arms brought on a rush of emotion. A lump rose in my throat.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I... admire you, Anna. And not just because you're fucking hot. And now I understand why you're such a stickler for safety. You know firsthand what can happen when things go wrong."

I sniffed. "The pasta's boiling."

"Right." Luke pulled away, his kind eyes searching mine. But I didn't want to break down right then. I wanted to keep on floating in postcoital bliss. So I pushed thoughts of my dad and Ben and what could happen to Luke to the back of my mind, turned back to the kitchen and focused on stirring the sauce.

Luke continued his perambulations around the room. Occasionally, he sniffed the air. "Something smells off in here."

"That's no way to talk about my cooking."

He frowned. "That's not what I meant. It smells like an animal in heat."

"It's probably just my mum's friend, Cynthia. She does tarot card readings at a shop downtown, and they burn all sorts of incense. The smell follows her like a cloud. She'd be just the kind of lady to wear a scent called _Eau de Wolf_. Oh, that reminds me." While the pasta boiled, I dragged the huge book Derek had given me from my satchel beside the door, and held it out to him. "My friend Derek gave me this. He's a mythology student and I think it might help me create a case to discredit Ruth—"

As soon as the book touched his hands, Luke flung it across the room. It hit the wall and bounced off, landing on the floor with a defiant THUD.

Luke stared down at his hands, his breath shallow.

"What is it?" I touched his shoulder. He flinched away.

"It's another wolf," Luke hissed, bringing his hand to his face and sniffing deeper. "A very ancient, powerful wolf."

"Here?" Fear tightened my chest. I stared around the room with fresh, frightened eyes, searching for a chair out of place, a window cracked open, a cupboard ajar. Had a wolf come to my house? Could he still be waiting somewhere, lurking in the shadows ready to attack?

"Luke, has someone been in my house?"

"They must've been while we were in the shower. That's the only explanation." Luke sniffed the air again. "The scent isn't strong. But it's all over that book. That's what I was smelling before."

"You could smell a wolf who had touched a book, which was sitting in my bag?" He'd told me his senses were stronger, more attuned, but I had no idea just how much.

Luke nodded, his eyes wild. He jabbed his finger at the side door, leading out to the alley where we kept the bins. "Anna, did you leave that ajar?"

"What?" I glanced at the door. He was right, it was slightly open, a few droplets of rain driving through the gap and splattering on the floorboards.

I thought back to when I'd arrived at the house, retracing my steps from the bedroom to the kitchen to the door to the car. My hands had been full with Derek's books. I had my keys in my mouth. I'd thrown everything down and gone to look for Mum. I hadn't been anywhere near that door. "No. Did you come in there?"

"I went in the front, after you." Luke indicated the locked front door.

"Maybe Mum left it open accidentally?"

"Fuck." Luke slammed his hand down on the counter. I winced. I hated seeing him so worked up. It was making me even more afraid of what was out there. "This wasn't your mum being forgetful. It's him, Anna. It's the black wolf I've seen earlier. He's old, and powerful. He said he has killed before, and that more will die if I don't get out of his way."

Chills ran through my body. "Could he still be here?"

Luke shook his head. He sniffed the door handle, and around the door and the stool where I'd placed the books. "Whoever this wolf was, he's gone now. He didn't get very far into the room, and he didn't touch much, as far as I can tell. If the wolf was still here, I'd be able to smell him – even with his scent disguised – he couldn't hide for long in such a small space."

My blood turned cold as I realised something. "My mother wasn't here. The neighbour said someone took her out. I thought it was Cynthia, but what if it was this wolf?"

"Don't worry, Anna. We'll find her." Luke pointed to the phone hanging from the kitchen wall. "Call your mum's friend, and anyone else she might be visiting. We may find her yet."

I grabbed the phone and dialled my mother's mobile phone. I hung up as soon as I heard it ringing from in the lounge. Panic tightened my throat. I dialled Cynthia next. She picked up on the first ring. "Oh, yes. Elaine's here with me, dear. I found this amazing five-thousand-piece puzzle of Tutankhamun's tomb paintings, and we've got the whole border nearly complete. And I've pulled your card for the month and must give you a warning—"

I thanked Cynthia and hung up. Luke had the book open on the table, and was thumbing through the pages, sniffing the edges and frowning.

He looked up when I had finished. "So she's safe, then?"

"Yeah. She's with Cynthia. It sounds as if she's had a small breakthrough. They're doing a puzzle together."

"That's wonderful." Luke frowned, and held up the book. "Anna, where did you get this from?"

"I told you, Derek gave it to me."

"He's your university friend, right? Where did he get it from?"

"I don't know." I grabbed my phone and wrote a frantic text to Derek. Luke clenched and unclenched his fists, his neck muscles bulging and tensing up. A few moments later, my phone beeped.

"He says it came from _Astarte,_ " I said. "It's the new-age shop downtown—"

"I know the one," Luke said. "I've been there before."

From the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a small bottle. It looked familiar. I peered closer at it. Then I remembered where I'd seen it before. It was identical to the one Clara had shown me when I'd visited the shop, the one Caleb had wanted but she wouldn't sell to him. I remembered her saying Luke had come in for the pills.

"That's right. You've already met Clara."

"She's quite something," Luke said. "And these pills are fantastic. My full moon shift lasted only two nights this time. I'm wondering if Clara might be able to tell us who has touched the book other than your friend."

"She can probably do more than that. Clara said there had been more wolves in the area than usual," I said. "When I visited her, she had run out of those pills because you'd bought them. She didn't have enough to sell to Caleb. Maybe there have been other wolves in the shop asking for the pills, too. She'd know who they were."

Luke grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair and tossed it to me. "Grab your mittens, babe. Let's go."

"But the pasta—" My stomach growled in protest.

"It will have to wait. We need to find out everything we can about this other wolf."

A few minutes later, we found ourselves standing outside _Astarte_. I couldn't believe I was back at this shop for the second time in a week. The sceptical scientist in me silently rebelled against the crystals and dreamcatchers hanging in the window, although I did have to smile at the sign by the door that read, "I tried yoga once, but found it a bit of a stretch."

I remembered Clara's unique sense of humour, and brightened. She was certainly a character. Besides, where was the sceptical scientist when you were having hot sex with a werewolf against your shower wall? My cheeks burned with the memory. I hoped Clara wouldn't be able to read that thought in my cards.

Luke grinned as he saw me hesitating. "You come to this store often, then?"

I shook my head, then pointed across the street at the _Bewitching Bites_ bakery. "That place is much more my style. There were far too many hippy dippy new agey folk in my first year archaeology lectures, writing essays postulating the location of Atlantis and derailing lectures with discussions about whether aliens really built the pyramids. I find it all rather ridiculous."

"You're dating a werewolf. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"Maybe." I grinned back at him. "Depends if we're actually dating."

He squeezed my hand. "I'm game if you are."

"I haven't decided yet."

I pushed open the door to the shop. It must've been a slow day for crystals and Crookshollow ghost tour brochures, because the shop was completely deserted. From somewhere in the back, a little bell tinkled. The place looked just the way I remembered it – tiny tables and dark mahogany bookshelves lined the dimly-lit space, crammed full of candles and crystals and strange books. I coughed as a wave of sweet-smelling incense hit my nostrils.

Clara glided in from the back of the shop, carrying a stack of books that was almost as tall as she was. Her kind face broke into a grin as she saw us both.

"Yes?" she asked, her head tilting to the side. Luke rushed over and helped her set the books down on a small round table under the window.

"Hi there," I said, suddenly feeling a bit stupid. "Um, I don't know if you remember me—"

"Of course," Clara grinned, showing a row of crooked teeth. She set down the books on the counter, and bustled over to us. She took my hand and rubbed it in her own, her wrinkled fingers cool to the touch. "You were the girl who'd just met a werewolf. And I see you've brought along your friend."

"Luke, this is Clara." I expected him to shake her hand, but instead he just glared intently at her across the counter.

"I remember you, too, young man," Clara said, her eyes sparkling. "I never forget a shifter."

"You have remarkable sight," Luke said.

"It is one of my gifts."

"Is your other consorting with dangerous wolves?"

"Luke!" I couldn't believe how rude he was being.

Clara chuckled. "Don't worry, pet. His behaviour is understandable, given the circumstances. Remember, I told you a wolf is always overprotective of his mate."

"I never said I was his mate."

"If you say so, dear. I take it you have found some kind of object."

I held out the book to her. "A powerful werewolf has touched this. I believe it was originally brought from you. We need to know how if any other wolves have come in wanting Lycan pills, and if there's any way to find this particular wolf."

"No other wolves have come in, apart from you, the grumpy guy from the other day, and my regulars."

"Can the book tell you anything about the wolf?"

Clara took the book in her hands and studied the title for a long time. She slid it back across the counter towards me. "I'm afraid you will not find him until he wants to be found. It is a skilled magical worker who has handled this book. I cannot get any kind of reading from this book, and nor did I get anything when I sold it. If this wolf is as powerful as you say, I would've remembered him. Not even my sight can pick up anything, except that the wolf who handled this book means you great harm. "

"My friend was the one who brought it," I said. "His name is Derek. He studies mythology. He probably comes in here to buy books a lot."

She looked startled for a moment. Then she yanked the book across the counter and flipped through the pages again. "Yes," she breathed. "It does smell a bit like Derek. I don't remember selling him this particular volume, but he does buy a lot of things from me."

"Someone broke into my house today, and they left their scent behind. Luke can smell it on the book."

"That's because he wanted you to," Clara said, laying the book out flat, and opening it to the middle. She pulled a small magnifying glass from the drawer below the till, and examined the spine and the edges of the pages. She pulled a thin pair of tweezers from the purse on her belt, and dug them into the binding. A few moments later she pulled out a thin quill. "Yes, this is a very skilled magical worker indeed."

"What's that?"

"Part of a spell," Clara said, sniffing the quill. "A charm, actually. You'd need to have this tested to confirm, of course, but I'm pretty sure it's poisoned."

"Someone's trying to poison me?" I gasped.

"Unlikely. This is part of a love spell. It's designed to 'poison' you against the one you love."

I glanced at Luke. His face shone red with rage. "So what do we do?" Luke demanded.

Clara slammed the book shut. "Nothing. At the moment."

"Well, you're a great help." Luke snatched the book off the table.

"Luke," I tugged on his shoulder. "What about Caleb?"

"Of course." Luke growled. "That scheming bastard. It must be him. He hid his true scent from me. He convinced me he was my cousin, that we were family. And all this time he was here to destroy everything and take you for himself."

"No!" I grabbed his arm. "That's not what I meant. I don't think Caleb is this big bad wolf. What I mean is, he's all alone at the caves, and he has no idea how powerful this other wolf is."

Luke's face darkened. "Either way, we need to get back to the caves."

We raced out of the store without even saying goodbye to Clara. Luke threw the book onto the back seat of my Mini, and started climbing into the driver's seat. "Excuse me," I jabbed my finger at the passenger side.

"We don't have time for you to get all possessive about your car," Luke huffed. "I will drive us there faster. Simple fact."

"I'm allowed to be possessive about the car. It's _my_ car. And as for speed," I twirled the keys around my finger. "You ain't seen nothing until you've seen what I can do in a Mini."

Luke relented. I climbed in, fastened my belt, and stomped on the gas. The Mini zoomed off down the high street and nailed the first corner. We took off towards the forest at breakneck speed. I felt a flash of satisfaction as I glanced over at the passenger seat and saw Luke gripping the dash with white knuckles.

"What's that?" he cried suddenly, when we were nearly at the dig.

"This, Luke Lowe, is how driving _should_ be done."

"No, that up ahead." He was already undoing his belt. "Stop the car."

I pulled over on the side of the track, my heart beating as I noticed the police cars up ahead. An ambulance was parked on the other side of the road, its lights off. As I got out of the car, a young officer jogged towards us, motioning for us to go back.

"You can't be here." she said. "Please drive on."

Luke dug an ID card from his wallet. "I'm the ranger in the forest," he said, his voice stern. "What's happened? Someone should have called me."

She glanced down at Luke's ID, and frowned. "We did call you. Your phone went straight to voicemail. But since you're here now, you'll need to give a statement to the DS. There's been a murder."

_A murder?_ My chest tightened. I thought of the other archaeologists, working in the cave, unaware of the werewolves lurking in the forest. "Who?" I demanded.

Her gaze flicked over to me. "We're not giving out information to the public at this stage."

"This is Anna Sinclair," Luke said, his hand resting protectively on the small of my back. "She's working on the excavation. Is it one of the archaeologists?"

"Anna Sinclair?" The officer frowned even harder. "Then you'll need to give a statement, too. Your name has come up in our inquiries."

"It has?"

"The victim was a reporter from the _Daily Post_. Her name was—" she consulted her clipboard, "—Misty Sharpe. It looks as though she were coming out to the archaeological site to conduct more research. She stopped here, parked her car, and then walked a few yards before someone tackled her and tore her throat out."

My head spun. Misty was dead? I'd only talked to her yesterday. Her ridiculous article was on the internet just this morning. How could she be _dead?_ And who would have done such a thing? To have her throat torn out, like a wild animal...

The officer gave me a pointed look. "She was coming here to talk to you, Miss Sinclair. Apparently, there was quite an article about you published this morning, and Misty was hoping for a follow-up. It seems you are..." She consulted her notes. I could see she had a printout of Misty's article. "...hot-headed and unremorseful about your part in your boyfriend's mysterious death..."

My face blazed. Death followed me everywhere, it seems. My mind swirled with memories of the police at my house, asking for information about Ben, telling my mother Dad was dead, escorting me to the morgue to identify the body. It was the same thing all over again. _This cannot be happening._

But it was. While we gave our statements to the detective sergeant, leaving out the bit about the shower and the black wolf, a SOCO team buzzed around the site in their white coats and gloves. Four officers manoeuvred a stretcher into the ambulance. On the stretcher was a large, black bag. I couldn't believe that inside was Misty Sharpe, her stiletto heels no doubt still on her feet.

Misty was dead, and the police thought I had something to do with it. But I knew better. One thing was for certain. The discovery of the caves had brought more wolves to Crookshollow. And one of them had murder on his mind.

And that meant I could be next.

## Chapter Eighteen

# Luke

I had to hand it to Anna. She really knew how to put her foot down. The Mini careened along the dirt road like it was on a NASCAR track. Her brow was creased in concentration, her entire being focused on putting as much space between us and the cops as possible. In no time at all, I could make out the white side of the caravan and the orange pup tents through the trees. My stomach clenched with nerves, every sense on high alert.

I knew Caleb had been lying to me. He'd already attacked Anna once, and he'd openly declared he was prepared to challenge me for her. And now some wolf was showing up at her house, leaving her books laced with poison? And a reporter who interviewed her has turned up dead? Caleb knew something about all this, and I needed to shake it out of him, by any means possible.

"Caleb!" I yelled, leaping out before Anna had even pulled to a stop.

No reply. From the caravan, I heard peals of laughter. _Ruth._ Ruth was laughing. Ruth didn't laugh. Laughing was impossible when you had a stick shoved that far up your own arse.

Maybe it wasn't a laugh. Maybe it was the sound of her choking on her own scorn. Maybe the black wolf had already got to them. I raced up the stairs of the caravan, heart hammering against my chest, and thrust open the door.

The site that greeted me stopped me short. "Um..."

Caleb stood behind the stove, wearing a rolled-up topographic map as a chef's hat and an apron with a picture of a Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton and the word _YOLO_ on the front. He was flipping crepes in a large frying pan. Batter coated every surface of the kitchen, and bits of burned crepes clung to the ceiling like determined limpets. Around the counter sat Frances, Ruth and Max, all roaring with laughter as Caleb flipped a pancake over his shoulder without looking. It landed on one of the plates sitting on the counter, and Frances leaned forward to claim it as her own.

"What's going on?" I demanded, my eyes meeting Caleb's. Anna clambered up the stairs behind me and peered in underneath my arm.

"Oh, Luke," Ruth gasped between giggles. "Have you met Caleb? He's a reporter for the _Ecological Gazette._ He's writing a piece on the impact of archaeological discoveries on the natural environment, so he's going to be camping on site for a few days to observe us."

"I thought it would be just the kind of anti-archaeologist piece you'd approve of," Frances said between mouthfuls.

"The police were just here, asking questions about a murder that happened nearby. I'm just trying to cheer everyone up. Hi." Caleb stretched out a batter-covered hand. I shook it, frowning at him. _What was his game here?_

"Nice to meet you, Caleb." Anna reached around me, and shook his hand, staring up at him warmly. "Do you have one of those crepes for me?"

"Sure do." He loaded up the pan with a spoonful of batter, splashing most of it over the sides. I wanted to tear the crepe from her hands, but I couldn't do that in front of the others. Soon, all the archaeologists were around the counter, chewing on their crepes.

"Would you like one, too, Ranger?" Caleb grinned cheekily at me. I blinked. His face had a certain familiarity to it. With his reddish hair, he reminded me a little of my dad, just younger and more evil.

"We need to talk," I hissed in Caleb's ear. He nodded as he slid a crepe onto a plate and handed it to me. I tossed it in the rubbish bin beside the bench. Anna glanced between us, then casually reminded Frances what time it was.

"Oh, we've got to get back!" The professor wiped the crumbs from around her mouth. "The crew will be wanting to interview Ruth again while the rain has stopped. Caleb," she threw a quick glance in my direction, "don't forget to wear the hard hat I gave you if you come back to the caves."

"I won't." Caleb tapped the brim of his hard hat, which was sitting on the bench beside the sink, splattered with flour and batter.

The archaeologists filed out of the caravan, leaving me alone with my supposed cousin and easy access to a knife rack. Caleb swiped off his paper hat, and nonchalantly poured himself a cup of tea.

"What is it, little cousin?" he sneered, as he brought the cup to his lips.

I growled, the wolf in me pressing against my skin, begging to be set free to tear him to shreds. But before I could confront him, Anna dropped the book on the table. "Can't you smell it?"

"Not really... oh, shit." Caleb took a deep whiff of the cover, and his eyes grew wide. "I've smelled this wolf before."

"Of course you have," I growled. "It's _your_ scent."

"Luke," Anna warned.

"Excuse me?" Caleb lowered his mug.

"I'm starting to think this black wolf is an illusion. It's the only explanation that fits all the facts. You've enchanted this book to be a love spell, so you can have Anna for yourself. I followed your scent in the forest, and it merged with this same scent on the book. That's because both scents are from the same wolf – you. That's why the scent appears and disappears, and why the black wolf hasn't been anywhere near the site, and why I've never seen you or him together. He's a glamour. I don't know how you're doing it all, but we have it on good authority the charm on the book is pretty powerful. You must have some considerable skill."

"Have you been smoking something, Ranger?" Caleb waved his hand in front of my eyes. "Because you're crazy. I'm just me. I'm not posing as a black wolf. I'm not running around murdering reporters. I've been here all day, keeping the team safe. You can ask them."

"I will. Come clean now, and I might not rip your throat out."

Caleb laughed. "This is fucking ridiculous. One wolf having two scents is impossible. Besides, I've seen the other wolf. So unless you think I can magically alter my appearance as well—"

"Well, can't you?"

"Of course I bloody can't! Look, of course I want Anna – she's fucking gorgeous and an ideal mate. Who wouldn't want her? But I'm not about to kill my only living relative in order to get her. You and I are more powerful together, little cousin. We need to find the black wolf, and take him out before he kills someone else. He's hiding down by the stream somewhere."

"I know where he is," I said, thinking of the cave I'd seen in the rocks.

"Good. Because I've been following the faint whiff of his trails over the forest for the last few days, and I couldn't find his lair. He's clearly disguising his scent. At first I thought it might be an old trail, but then I've seen him stalking around."

"And this wolf wants me?" Anna looked sick. "Why did he kill the reporter?"

"I don't know," I said, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her close. "But we have to be careful. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"If this wolf claimed these lands for himself, then he'd naturally assume he'd be able to take you for his own," Caleb said.

"That's not going to happen." I gripped her hand, squeezing it. "We've been assuming he wouldn't attack in broad daylight, but the police said Ms. Sharpe was killed a couple of hours ago. He's more dangerous than we know. I'm assuming you couldn't convince Frances to call off the dig?"

"Not a chance."

"Then we need to guard the site, around-the-clock surveillance."

"Agreed," Anna said. "And if we are dealing with a magical wolf, we'll need some kind of magical protection."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't believe I'm even suggesting this, but perhaps Clara has some charms or spells or things that can help protect us." Anna glanced at her watch. "By the time I got back to town, she'd have closed the shop. But I'll head in first thing tomorrow."

Caleb picked up his hard hat. "I'm going back to the caves. I'll be able to watch out for the crew while I'm there."

"We're coming, too." I grabbed Anna's coat from the rack by the door and tossed it to her. There was no way I was letting Caleb back in those caves without being present. Anna may trust him, but I sure didn't.

Caleb and I spent the last few hours of daylight taking turns holding lights while Frances and Anna painstakingly brushed mud and debris off the cave paintings. Ruth was busy on the surface with another film crew.

After dinner, Anna sat down with her stack of books, and started on her research. A fervour to prove the paintings fake had taken hold of her – she said that if she could do that, then maybe that would get Frances to call off the dig, and that would get the whole crew to safety.

Not wanting to leave her side, I pulled over one of the books – a history of supernatural occurrences in Crookshollow – and flipped to the section on the Victorian era. My eyes fell on a chapter about the Peytons.

_.... famed for their prowess as witch hunters, the Peyton family had a place of honour in the Crookshollow community. During the late Victorian period, patriarch Robert Peyton was Bishop of Loamshire and he led some of the last witch hunts on English soil, primarily against what he called "shifters of form who did poison the earth with their unnatural visage." The family was supposedly haunted by a cursed relative who could change his form into a wolf. They committed this unfortunate cousin to a mental asylum. Peyton and his family stabbed to death at least eighteen people they believed to be shapeshifters, including a family who lived in a cave in the woods near Crookshollow..._

Beside me, Anna was scribbling notes furiously. "I've got it," she whispered to me, jabbing her finger at one of the cave paintings on the screen. "You won't believe it, Luke. It was so simple."

"How?" I whispered back.

She pointed to one of the images, where my grandfather dragged a pig's carcass back to the cave, and his three children waited with open mouths for their supper. "This pig is pretty easily recognisable as an Oxford Sandy and Black pig," she said. "There's no other pig breed it could possibly be. But that particular breed wasn't introduced into the country until the seventeen hundreds."

"Much later than the neolithic, then?"

"Exactly." Her grin was infectious. "And when you couple that with the priests in the last image... it's obvious. Ruth is going to be spewing when I tell her. Did you find anything?"

I passed her the book and pointed to the paragraph on Peyton. "They sound like nasty people." She shuddered as she read the page.

"Yep. But did you notice what's interesting? They may have a shapeshifter in the family."

"You don't think that's just part of the legend?"

"All legends start from somewhere. Perhaps you should ask your friend the mythology major."

"I will. He's supposed to come out here tomorrow to look at the caves..." Anna paled. "Oh, I hope I haven't put him in danger."

"He'll be fine. We can drive out in the morning and wait for him. I'd like to meet this friend of yours."

"Okay. Thanks, Luke."

The sun had long since sunk below the horizon. The beer supply had run out and one by one the archaeologists loped off to bed. Anna glanced at Caleb and I. "I feel too wired to sleep," she said. "What should we do now?"

"You're going to your tent," I growled. "But you're not sleeping any time soon."

"So no one wants to play cards with me?" Caleb asked.

"Play with yourself. You're taking the first watch tonight. Come get me at 3am and I'll relieve you of duty."

"So you trust me now?"

"I don't. But Anna does, and that means something to me."

"It should." Anna grinned, wrapped her arms around me and kissing my lips.

As we walked across the camp, Anna snuggled tighter against my body. The warmth of her ignited my desire. My cock was already straining against my jeans. It had only been a few hours since we'd been in the shower together, but already I was desperate to be inside her.

Anna hung back while I circled her tent, sniffing the air for a hint of the black wolf's scent. Nothing. But I knew better than to assume he was gone for good. I pulled open the flap and peered inside, but no one was hiding in wait for us.

"After you." I pulled back the flap all the way. Anna ducked inside and I followed her, wrapping my hands around her beautiful round arse.

"Hey!" Anna protested, leaping away. But there wasn't far to go in the tiny tent. She fell back against her sleeping bag, and I climbed on top of her, my cock pressing urgently against her thigh.

Anna's lips found mine, her tongue sliding between my teeth. My hands cupped her face, bringing her closer. My body ached for her, wanting to be as close as possible, right now.

I reached up to unbutton her shirt, but Anna held my hand. "Let me do it," she whispered. "You've already ruined two of my favourite shirts."

I was going to protest, but then she started undoing the buttons, starting at her neck and working her way down. She appeared a little nervous, like a schoolgirl in the back seat of a car for the first time. That only added to my desire as she unhooked the last button and pulled her shirt open.

Her breasts were cupped inside a black bra. I reached behind her and unhooked it, sliding it and her shirt off her shoulders. I cupped one of her breasts in my hands, loving how perky and firm it was. She gasped as I closed my mouth around the nipple and sucked gently, her nails digging into my back.

As I sucked on her other breast, Anna fumbled for my buttons. I shrugged my shirt off my shoulders, and pressed my body against hers, loving the skin against skin, the way her hard nipples rubbed against my chest.

Anna kicked off her jeans, and pulled mine off, too. I tugged down her underwear and thrust my face between her legs. I parted her lips with my tongue, inhaling the sweet smell of her. She moaned as I ran my tongue along her, finding her clit and circling it slowly. Anna's nails dug deep into my shoulders as her first orgasm claimed her.

While her body was still shuddering with pleasure, I climbed on top of her, put on the condom, and entered her. Her wetness enveloped me, our bodies fitting together perfectly. I moved slowly against her, the pressure rising in my stomach as my own pleasure built. Anna gasped and clawed at my back.

"You feel so good." My cock slid in and out of her, our bodies fitting together perfectly. I buried my head into her shoulder, dragging my teeth along her neck. Pressure tugged at my core, the wolf inside me struggling to escape, to unleash all my wildness.

"Luke," she gasped, her walls tightening around me. I pumped harder, enjoying the way my length slid right into her, the way she bucked her hips up to meet each thrust. She wanted me just as much as I needed her. "Oh, Luke."

Anna clenched around me, her body shuddering as an orgasm tore through her. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head fell back, her breath hitching. Her walls contracted around my cock, squeezing me tight. I thrust faster, loving seeing her lose control.

Feeling her come sent me over the edge. The pressure building inside me spilled over. I saw stars as I came, the bright lights of a thousand distant galaxies shimmering in a brilliant supernovae.

We collapsed against each other, utterly spent. I wrapped her in my arms, enjoying the warmth of her body stretched across the furs. For a few precious minutes, we enjoyed the bliss of our bodies, but then the fear and uncertainty started to creep back.

Anna wrapped her arms around my neck. Her limbs went stiff. "Luke, I'm scared." Anna's lip trembled.

"Don't be." I wrapped my arm under her neck, stroking her cheek with my other hand. "I'm here, and so is Caleb. We won't let anything happen to you."

_I won't let anything happen to you,_ I thought, as I kept my eyes glued on the door. _Especially not anything named Caleb._

I wasn't going to let that red-headed lout fool me again. He wasn't going to get Anna. Of that I would make certain.

## Chapter Nineteen

# Anna

I woke up from a dream about death to find Luke still lying beside me, his eyes wide open. "Did you sleep at all?" I asked.

"No. But you're okay, and that's what's important. No black wolves in sight."

"Where's Caleb?" Why had Luke not slept? Hadn't Caleb relieved him of his duty?

"Outside," Luke growled. "But I needed to watch him, too."

"You don't still suspect him, do you? You're being paranoid. Caleb is your cousin, and apart from attacking me that one time, he's been a perfect gentleman."

"I have to be suspicious. He's a wolf on my territory, and he's close enough to you to do real harm. Just let me be a protective alpha, would you?"

"I guess. Does that mean you're coming with me into Crookshollow today? It would mean leaving the site unguarded."

"Do you have to go?"

I glanced over at my phone. "Yeah. I need to talk to Clara about some charms to protect us, and get to my friend Derek before he leaves for the forest."

"What? Why?"

"Remember, I told you my friend the mythology nut was coming out here today to look at the caves? But after what happened to Misty on the road, I don't want him anywhere near this place. But I can't just call him and tell him not to come." I tapped my useless phone screen.

"Shit. Okay. Guess we're going to town." Luke glanced at me with hard eyes. "You really trust Caleb?"

"I really do."

"Fine. But if we come back here and Ruth has been torn to shreds, try to refrain from doing a victory dance on her corpse."

"I make no promises." I grinned at his dark humour, hoping like hell there would be no more death.

"Derek, have you noticed anything strange this week?"

"You mean, apart from the fact you're spending more time at my house drinking all my tea than out on that archaeological find of the century?"

I drained the rest of my cup, and punched his arm. "Be serious, please. And be serious while you put the kettle on again. I need another."

I felt a bit guilty leaving Luke hunched down in the car while I drank tea with Derek, but it couldn't be helped. True to his word, Luke wouldn't let me go to town alone, but I didn't want him inside while I spoke to Derek – I was worried Luke's presence would throw off our usual rapport. I hadn't told Derek about Luke, and I didn't want to suddenly surprise him, knowing the way he still felt about me. Plus, I hadn't told Luke about Derek's feelings, and I didn't want a macho showdown. We had more important things to worry about.

"I was being serious, you know. About you noticing anything strange."

Derek went to the kitchen and got the kettle going, then sat back down across from me, patting my leg in a friendly way. "Strange how?"

"I don't know. A feeling of being watched, someone hanging around your house. Someone who is not me asking you odd questions. Just anything odd or out of the ordinary."

"What's this about, Anna?" Derek leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. He loved a good mystery, and here I was, being rather mysterious. "Does this have something to do with that reporter who died?"

"Yeah, and about why you can't come on the site any more. It's very... complicated," I said, thinking fast. "And... top secret. There are some interesting facts about the cave paintings that haven't been released in the media. I think that might be why that reporter was killed, someone thought she was getting too close to the truth."

"What kind of facts? You're not in danger, are you, Anna?"

_Oh, just a maniacal werewolf who wants to mate with me. Nothing particularly dangerous at all._ I shrugged. "I... I think I am, but I'm being well looked after. I can't say too much at the moment, but suffice it to say the paintings may not be as old or as special as first thought."

"That sounds like something from a spy film."

"I know. And it gets worse. I think, before she died, the reporter had been following me – I was at home the other day after coming here and I think she might have snuck inside while I left the door open. And because I was around at your place first, I'm worried they might come after you next."

"I'm intrigued. And slightly terrified. You've got to be careful, Anna." Behind us, the kettle popped. Derek sprung to his feet, taking my empty cup with him to the kitchen. "Do you want some mousetraps with your tea?"

"Yes, please." I'd left site before breakfast, and I was starving.

While Derek prepared the tea, sliced cheese and tomato and heated the grill, I shuffled through the papers on his coffee table. He was really making headway on his family history project, probably because the deadline on his master's thesis was approaching rapidly and he was desperate for distractions. He'd laid out his family tree across the table on a big sheet of white card – all the different generations labelled with dates and spouses and children. Post-it notes stuck out from every surface, and lines were crossed out or dotted over. There were some lines with question marks where he obviously hadn't found the right data, and others had notes referring to certain documents he'd photocopies from archives. I scanned the names above Derek. There were his parents – Theodore and Alice – and his grandparents, and he'd traced the line right back to—

I stopped short, my breath freezing in my throat. It can't be the same person. It must be a coincidence.

There, on the paper, listed as Derek's great-grandfather on his father's side, was Robert Peyton, the man who had killed Luke's family.

"Derek?" My voice came out high-pitched.

"Yes?" he called over the sizzle of bubbling cheese.

"This chart says you're related to the Peyton family."

"Yeah. Isn't it cool?" Derek came back to the table with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of mousetraps. He pushed a thin book across the table towards me. "They're quite an old Crookshollow family. Apparently, they used to have quite the reputation as righteous witch hunters. My great-grandfather Robert was Bishop of Loamshire."

"I've heard some stories about them. Someone in the village was saying they had something to do with the caves—"

My phone vibrated, startling us both. I grabbed it and held it to my ear.

It was Frances. She was screaming incoherently. I held the phone away from my ear as Frances's screeching cut away to static.

"Frances, what's wrong? Where are you? How are you getting phone reception?"

The phone crackled some more, and then Ruth's voice came landed in my ear. "Anna? You've got to come... immediately. The site's been... royed."

"What?" I didn't think I'd heard her right. The line was terrible. They must still be somewhere near the site.

"Come back now! The police are on their way, and they'll need to take your statement." Ruth's voice was choked with sobs. "Someone has been here with a crowbar. The cave paintings have been completely destroyed."

## Chapter Twenty

# Luke

This time, I was the one driving. My powerful truck made quick work of the dirt roads, and we even passed the police on the way out to the site. Anna gripped the edges of her seat so tight, her knuckles turned white.

As we pulled up in the truck and ran over to the caves together, my hand clasped tight around Anna's, Ruth glared at us, as though we had something to do with this mess. Frances sat by the cave entrance, her face in her hands.

"What happened?" Anna huffed as she drew up beside the other archaeologists.

"It's like I told you on the phone," Ruth said, her voice hoarse. "You guys left. We had breakfast and did a quick Skype interview in the caravan, then came out here to get some more work done. But when we entered the tunnel, we noticed all the debris lying around, and the paintings were gone. Someone has hacked off all the images. There's nothing left but dust and chips on the floor of the tunnel."

Frances let out a strangled sob.

"Shit." Anna's knees wobbled. She sank to the ground beside Frances, her face terrified. "Who would do such a thing?"

Her words were directed at Ruth, but the question was for me. I answered it in my head. _Caleb._ I'd left him alone here, and tried to forget about all my misgivings about him, because Anna trusted him. I'd even checked with Ruth before we'd left, and she confirmed he hadn't left their side for a moment yesterday. But then he'd gone and done this – even though he swore he wasn't going to any more – and had destroyed forever the last link I had to my family, my history. Hatred and anger burned in my veins.

"No one saw anything?" Anna asked. "You guys aren't hurt?"

Ruth shook her head. "We were all over in the caravan. But I can't help but think, what if we'd been here when..." She shuddered.

Anna was already sliding through the cave entrance. I jumped down after her.

"Where are you going?" Ruth called down. "You can't disturb anything. The police are on their way—"

Anna ignored her. She picked up one of the torches from the edge of the abandoned neolithic site, and clicked it on. I followed her through the crevice, and down to the tunnel entrance. The whole cave reeked of wolf – the black wolf's smell, which I knew now was Caleb's true scent.

"Shit," Anna whispered, aiming the torch light into the tunnel.

I sucked in a breath as the full magnitude of the damage came into view. The walls of the tunnel had been cruelly hacked to pieces, leaving jagged ribbons of colour. Piles of rocky debris littered the tunnel. Dust wafted through the stale air. I coughed as the smell invaded my nostrils, choking out my other senses.

The only thing left was a single crude piece of graffiti that hadn't been there before – a stick figure of a woman with dark hair and glasses, a knife sticking out of her chest. The woman was meant to be Anna.

"I'll fucking kill him." My hands closed into fists. The wolf within me growled in agreement.

"Luke, I think you're mistaken about Caleb—"

"I've seen enough," I snapped. "This is a direct threat to your life. I'll make him pay."

"But we don't even know that's me..." Anna yelped as I grabbed her hand and dragged her back out through the cave. "Luke, hey, where are you going? Let me go!"

I pulled Anna back through the cave entrance and up into the forest, when I sucked in several fresh breaths. "Where's Caleb?" I snarled at Ruth.

"He's gone for a walk," she replied. "He thought he'd have a look around the outside of the camp, see if he could see anyone hiding there, or footprints or anything. At least he's looking out for our safety. Isn't that supposed to be your job, _Ranger_?"

I didn't have time to get into a verbal sparring match with Ruth. I grabbed Anna by the hand. There was no way I was going to let her out of my sight until I had subdued Caleb.

"Luke, what are you doing?" Anna cried, as she struggled to keep up with me. I charged into the trees, yelling Caleb's name.

"Dammit, Luke." Anna punched my shoulder. "Answer me."

"I'm looking for that _cousin_ of mine," I snarled. "He's responsible for this. We're going to settle this, once and for all."

"You're looking at the wrong wolf, Luke. Ruth said Caleb was in the caravan with them. He can't have done this."

"Ruth likes Caleb. She'll say anything to protect him," I snarled back.

"He didn't do it. You have to get that into your thick head if we're ever going to solve this."

"Listen to your princess, Lucas."

I whirled around. Caleb stood in the middle of the forest path, his unbuttoned shirt flapping in the stiff breeze. At least this time, he wasn't smirking. He looked tired, drawn out. But most of all, he looking fucking guilty.

"You." I hissed at Caleb. "You did this."

He shook his head. "I assure you... this was all the black wolf's doing."

"You just couldn't take it, could you?" I growled. "You couldn't handle the fact that Anna chose me. So you kill that reporter, and destroy the paintings, and threaten her. Well, if you want Anna, you'll have to get through me, and I tell you right now that—"

"Is that any way to talk to your cousin?"

"You're no cousin of mine."

Caleb took a step closer. I bared my teeth. My hands balled into fists. The wolf bubbled below the surface, prickling against my skin. My nails dug into my flesh, becoming sharp claws. Bristly hair sprouted through my arms.

Caleb shook his head, his eyes dark with fury. As he took another step towards me, I saw his own fur bursting through his skin. "You seem quick to cast blame away from yourself, cousin. What reason would I have for killing the reporter? How does she fit into my nefarious plan? I could just as easily ask the same questions of you. Weren't you the one who tried to destroy the paintings only a few days ago? Don't you keep a crowbar in the back of that filthy truck?"

"I'm going to kill you!" I yelled, slashing my claws at his face. Caleb ducked back, just as my fingers sliced through the air inches from him. Caleb growled in response, his lips turning back into a scowl.

"Guys!" Anna leapt between us. I halted, pulling back my wolf just as he threatened to burst forth. "Don't be like this. Caleb, Luke couldn't have done this. He was with me at the time. We were in Crookshollow."

"See?" I glowered at Caleb.

"But Luke, I don't think Caleb did this either," Anna spoke directly to me. "It doesn't make any sense. His whole purpose here is to establish his own pack. How can he do that when he destroys the only evidence of his claim to this place? Or when he's got police swarming all over the forest?"

"Well, then who else did this?" I demanded.

"It was the other wolf," Caleb whispered. "The black wolf."

"I thought we'd established the black wolf couldn't possibly exist."

"No," Caleb snapped. _"You_ established that, because you're so desperate to believe that I'm the culprit here. I know the black wolf exists, because I've seen him with my own eyes. His scent is all over that cave."

"You mean _your_ scent."

"I don't have to listen to this shit." Caleb fell forward, and with a crack, his spine bent, his contorted, growing shorter and thinner, his fingers shrinking as his nails grew into long claws. A few moments later, Caleb's red wolf stood before us, his lips pulled back into an angry scowl. He gave a defiant bark, stepped out of his pile of tattered clothing, and ran off into the forest.

"Caleb, come back!" Anna yelled after him. She took a step into the trees after him, but I grabbed her arm.

"What are you doing? He's dangerous."

"You are ridiculous," Anna snapped, wrenching her arm away.

"What, me?" What was she talking about? "He's the one who—"

"He's family, Luke. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have found family when you most needed it? Instead of embracing it, you're accusing him of all these despicable things."

"It had to have been him. He's attacked you before—"

"That was before he knew you were family. He's telling you the truth, Luke. Your version of reality where Caleb is the bad guy makes no sense. But you're just too stubborn to see it." She turned to follow Caleb. "You just want to believe he's the bad guy because it's too painful trusting someone else."

"Anna, wait—" I reached for her again.

She shrugged me off, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't touch me. Don't follow me. I... I can't even stand to look at you right now."

"But the wolf—"

"Don't worry," Anna called as she jogged away. Even though she was turned away from me, I caught the hitch of her voice as a sob escaped her throat. "As far as you're concerned, he doesn't exist."

## Chapter Twenty-One

# Anna

I stalked into the forest, fuming at Luke. He was being ridiculous. This stupid vendetta he had against Caleb was endangering us all. He needed to work together with his cousin, and if me being angry at him would get him to cooperate, then it was worth it.

However, he was right about one thing. I shouldn't be out here by myself. "Caleb?" I called out. "It's me, Anna. Luke's not with me. Can you come out, please?"

A few moments later, I heard a rustling in the undergrowth to my left. I jumped back, my heart in my chest, as a wolf's head poked out from the brown leaves, its pink tongue panting heavily. I relaxed as I recognised Caleb's brown eyes and reddish-tinged fur.

"Hey." I bent down and patted his head. "I'm glad you're here. Would you like to walk a bit? I could do with clearing my head. And I definitely _do_ believe there's another wolf out here."

He nodded his head slightly, and the two of us headed back down the path. We walked in silence for several minutes, a smattering of rain falling through the branches and hitting my shoulders in large, cold droplets. Out here, sound dissipated, becoming larger, more full, each rain droplet and bird call and crunch of the leaves a thing of exquisite beauty, part of the orchestra of nature. I breathed deep, the peace calming my nerves.

We emerged into a small clearing, near the edge of one of the streams that trickled through the rocky seams. Through a gap in the trees, the grey clouds bulged, heavy with water, waiting for the opportune time to let it drop on us. A steep, slippery face sloped down towards the water, and further along the stream I noticed a tall outcrop of rocks, a small dark hole inside them. I could see that in parts, the stream was almost – but not quite – narrow enough to jump over. My heart hammered against my chest as I realised this was exactly the scenario Ben had been in when he died. He'd been further north, and the stream had been wider, but the slippery rocks, the jutting, jagged edges like teeth, ready to swallow me whole...

I sat down on the rock, far back from the edge, and tried to drive away the thoughts of the past. I had far too much to deal with in the present. I patted the stone beside me. "Caleb, change back, and let's talk."

He did as I asked, his fur retreating into his skin, his snout retracting into his face, the nose and lips separating, becoming the chiselled features of Caleb's handsome face. He rolled over and stretched out on his back, clicking his fingers and exposing his naked body.

"I'm here. What do you want?" he snarled at me. He didn't bother to hide himself, his gleaming body on full display.

"I'm sorry about Luke." I stepped up to him and met his eyes. If he was going to try and intimidate me, I was going to bite back. "This whole experience has been hard for him."

"Luke doesn't trust me," Caleb said flatly.

"Of course he doesn't," I said. "He's lived his whole life believing he was the only child of the original Lowe clan. He's been alone, apart from his dad, for as long as he can remember. And now here you are, on his territory, trying to steal his girl."

"I wouldn't have tried to take you in the first place if I'd have known he was my cousin," Caleb growled. "Besides, it's become obvious to me you're not my type."

"I know that. But he doesn't. His father died just recently. Did he tell you that?"

Caleb shook his head.

"Well, I'm telling you now. Luke is still grieving, and one thing I know about grief is that it hits different people in different ways. Some people retreat into themselves, and become a shadow of who they are. Other become healers, they take care of everyone else around them, because it's easier than facing their own pain." I gulped as a lump rose in my throat. I didn't want to cry now. "And some people – people like Luke – dedicate themselves to a mission, to one last crusade in honour of their loved one, because pursuing a goal in that person's name is a way of keeping them alive."

"That sounds familiar." Caleb grinned.

I nodded. "But one thing that pretty much all grieving people have in common is a paralysing fear of losing those they love. As humans, we always feel so invincible, but as soon as you lose someone, you realise how tenuous your happiness truly is. More than anything you want to shield yourself from ever feeling that kind of pain ever again. You start to pull back from people you love, but it's hard, because you already care about them. But when someone new comes into your life – especially someone who has some tie to the person you lost – you push them away, because it's easier to do that now than to come to care for them and lose them all over again."

Caleb grimaced. "This conversation has veered way into an area I'm not comfortable with."

"I don't want to hear a damn word about real men not talking about their feelings. It's utter shite and you know it."

"What _do_ you want me to do about this?"

"I want you to talk to Luke. Find a way to make him trust you. Otherwise, he's just going to keep finding reasons to doubt you, and he'll either drive you away from here, or kill you, or become so distracted that he gets killed by this other wolf. None of these are things I want to happen. He has to learn to trust again, to love again. It's the only way he'll ever be truly free."

Behind me, a loud bark clipped the air.

Caleb and I whirled around. Luke sat upright on the edge of the trees, a front paw raised in a kind of tentative greeting. My heart pounded against my chest. He'd heard the entire conversation.

I jabbed Caleb in the side.

"Luke..." he began, then cleared his throat. "I guess... I'm sorry about jumping on Anna before. I didn't know she was family. I'm not trying to kill her, or you, or take her from you. I swear. I told you about my stepfather, how he treated me, how he drove me away. All I want is a pack of my own, and I think you and I, together, could form that pack. But for now, all we really need is for you to trust me. Don't waste your energy watching me, waiting for me to screw you over. I got your back, man – focus on the real enemy."

Luke glanced up at his cousin. I couldn't read the look in his eyes. Then his gaze flicked over to me. He turned tail, and bounded away into the woods.

"Luke!" I leapt to my feet and dashed after him. Behind me, Caleb called out, but I ignored him. I needed to find Luke.

He slowed down to a fast walk, and I was able to follow him through the trees. "Where are you taking me?"

In response, Luke flicked his head over his shoulder, licking his lips.

Luke ran all the way back to the camp. Night was falling steadily, casting its gloom over the campsite. Judging by the amount of cars parked across the road, the police had arrived. All the lights in the caravan were on, and I could see people moving around inside. Luke nudged the flap of my tent, and I lifted it up for him. He darted inside, and I followed.

"Why did we come here? You're acting very strange." I asked.

Luke sat on the bed, and changed back into his human form. "Unlike Caleb, I didn't want to be naked in the middle of the forest." He grinned, grabbing my hands and pulling me down beside him.

"This is serious. That wolf is still out there. Do you get that now?"

"I am deadly serious." Luke wrapped me in his arms and kissed me fiercely.

I melted into the kiss, the warmth of his mouth against mine lighting up my whole body. The ache in my core flared to life, and all my conflicting thoughts went fuzzy. "But... shouldn't we do something... the wolf..."

"He'll be far away from here right now, with all the police around." Luke pulled my shirt off my shoulders. "Right now, the only thing I can think about is being inside you."

My protests melted away under the fire of his kiss.

Luke and I slept fitfully. Every few hours, some sound outside the tent tore us from our dreams, and we huddled together, listening hard in case it was the wolf. But the wolf didn't come back.

As the sun started to rise I heard the police return. They wandered around the forest, talking in to their radios. I couldn't stay in bed any longer, and threw back the covers, hunting for my clothes.

"What are you doing?" Luke threw out a sleepy arm to pull me back into the sleeping bag.

"I'll have to talk to the police, give them my statement."

"Stay with me."

"You're clingy today. What's brought this on?"

"You mean aside from you being completely amazing? Oh, probably the fact that even though all this shit is going on and you're in danger, you're trying to get me and my cousin talking. You're always thinking of me, Anna, trying to make me happy. Apart from Dad..." Luke's fingers stroked my cheek, "...no one's ever done that for me before."

"And that makes you want to fuck me?"

"It makes me want to make you just as happy as I am. And I know a great way of doing that." Luke nibbled on my ear. Sparks of desire flew across my skin.

"And Caleb... do you forgive him..."

"I haven't decided." Luke lifted my thermal underwear over my head, his hands skimming over my skin. "I'm not thinking about Caleb right now."

"Luke—"

"Anna," he whispered against my lips, his eyelashes fluttering against my cheek. "I love you."

_I love you._

The words froze in my mind, like three enormous icebergs penetrating deep below the surface. Cold crept into my body, driving out the heat of Luke's embrace. My eyes flew open. Luke had stopped kissing me – he stared at me intently, his green eyes ablaze with love.

I didn't see him. Instead of Luke's face, I saw Ben, his earnest features frozen forever in my mind, his face in the morgue, blotched and broken. I loved him and he left me. My ears buzzed. _This can't be happening._

"No," I choked out.

"No?" Luke's mouth curled down. He looked unsure.

"I can't... I have to go..." I grabbed my thermal top and yanked it back over my head. My heart pounded against my chest, and a sharp pain stabbed at my stomach, as though someone were twisting a knife into my guts. _I can't do this... I can't lose another... I'm not strong enough..._

Luke reached out to me, but I kicked out with my leg, hitting him harder than I intended right in the solar plexus. He bounced back against the air mattress. "Ooof, hey, what's wrong?" Luke's face fell completely.

"I have to go." I shoved my feet into my shoes.

"Wait, Anna. Let's talk about this—" He reached for me again.

"Get the fuck away from me!" I screamed, panic rising in my chest. Luke recoiled, as though I'd hit him. The knife in my stomach twisted deeper.

The look on his face tore my heart open. I needed to get out. I grabbed my keys from on top of my bag and raced from the tent. Luke yelled after me, but I didn't look back. I couldn't bear to see him fall apart.

"Hey, Anna. Where are you going?" Ruth called out as I fled across the site towards my Mini. "The police need your statement—"

Ignoring her, I slammed the door shut, and gunned the engine. My Mini bounced away from the site. The panic clawed at my throat. I had to get away from the forest, away from Luke and Ben and my father, the men who would not let me be free.

## Chapter Twenty-Two

# Luke

"Anna!" I yelled after the departing Mini. She didn't look up, didn't stop the car. The Mini's wheels squealed as she nailed the corner at top speed, the tiny car carrying away the only woman I'd ever loved.

My chest ached. My whole body shuddered. I felt as though I'd been run over by a lorry. She left. _She left._ The shock of it juddered through my veins.

"Luke?" Frances's voice pierced through the pain slicing across my skull. I was dimly aware I was standing in the middle of the camp, completely naked. But I couldn't bring myself to care. I wiped my hand across my lip. I could still taste the sweetness of her kiss there.

_Anna left me. I told her I loved her and she fucking left._

Anger seized me, a rage that rumbled from my toes right up through my whole body, a bubbling heat that seared me inside and out. Fuck her. Only a few minutes ago she'd been telling Caleb that stuff, and now she'd just left.

My eyes pricked with tears. I blinked them away angrily. I hadn't felt that sensation in a long time, not since I was a kid. I hadn't even cried when Dad died. But watching Anna run away, watching her abandon me just as I was ready to open up to her, almost destroyed me.

_If Anna is going to run away, let her run away._

"Luke, what's wrong? What are you doing?" I became aware that Ruth was jogging towards me, her gaze scanning my whole body. I tore myself away, and raced back to my own tent. I yanked on trousers and a jacket. Ruth poked her head in through the flap. "The police are going to need your statement about the caves—"

I shoved my way past her and headed into the trees, not even paying attention to where I was going. All I could see were angry red welts. My fists clenched and unclenched, the tension rippling through my body. With nowhere to go, nothing to direct it at, my rage simmered below my skin, the wolf inside threatening to go completely berserk.

As soon as I was far enough away from the camp, I found a spot on the edge of the limestone seam running along the stream. I leaned against a tree and started undoing my shirt. I'd fold up my clothes and hid them in the branches, and then I could let the wolf loose. I needed to run, to burn off this horrible, sickening feeling.

"A little chilly for skinny dipping?" A voice shattered my private thoughts.

"Fuck off, Caleb." My hands froze on the button. "You are the last person I want to talk to right now."

Caleb stepped out from behind the tree. "Wrong. I am _exactly_ the person you need to talk to. Because I'm the only one who can tell you when to pull your head out of your arse."

He still hadn't found any clothing. I was really not in the mood for discussing my feelings with a naked man. I turned away from him. "This is none of your business. Why did you follow me, anyway?"

"Because I saw Anna drive off from the camp, and she was crying, and I figured you must've done something to upset her. Although, you're a Lowe, so you're probably used to women seeing your cock and cowering in fear—"

"Why do you assume I've done something to her?" I demanded, closing the space between us so I was right up in his face. Caleb didn't blink.

"Because you're an idiot."

"Well, you can shove off, because all I did was tell her I loved her, and she bolted."

"Of course she bolted. Didn't you hear all that stuff she was saying to me before about grief and being scared to love again?"

"She was talking about me."

Caleb slapped his forehead. "You're an idiot. She was talking about herself. And you're sitting here being angry with her for it."

"Wouldn't you?"

Caleb shook his head. "I'd be chasing after her, getting her to talk me what hurt her so bad that she's terrified of loving me back."

_Shit._ The fight went out of me, the tension in my body turning to shame. Caleb was right. Here I was, acting like a selfish idiot because I'd been vulnerable, and she'd shied away. I should have seen that she did that because of what happened to her last boyfriend. I should have found a way to reassure her, but instead I'd thrown a tantrum and run away. Some mate I was.

I sank against the tree, my head in my hands. "Fuck."

"Don't worry. You can fix it. Just find her, and apologise. Women like that, I'm told."

"How do you know so much about this stuff?"

Caleb grinned. "Hey, just because I don't have a mate, doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about women, or about grief."

I glanced at him then, noticing a flicker of something pass over his face. It was the first time since meeting him where Caleb looked anything other than in perfect control. He appeared vulnerable, human. In an instant, it was gone, and Caleb's usual smug expression was back once again.

I got to my feet, dusting off my jeans. "I've got something to do."

He nodded. "Good luck. And if she still hates your guts after you're done, put in a good word for me. That girl is _fine._ "

I didn't even bother to answer him. I dove into the trees, heading back towards my truck as fast as my human legs would carry me. _Anna, I'm sorry. I'm coming for you._

## Chapter Twenty-Three

# Anna

_I love you._

My hands gripped the Mini's steering wheel so hard, my knuckles turned white. The words pounded over and over in my head, the echo of memories mingling with Luke's husky voice. Ben shyly saying those words for the first time over dinner at the _Tir Na Nog_ pub, his nervous face watching me from over his shepherd's pie. My dad whispering them in my ear as he tucked me into bed at night. My own lips trembling as I fought back tears to get the words out at their funerals.

The frigid night had left a layer of ice on the windscreen of the Mini. I'd tried to wipe it away with my mittened hand, but it was holding fast. I didn't want to go back to camp for water to thaw it and risk running into Luke, so I wound down my window, and navigated my way slowly along the track, leaning out over the car door like the main character in a bad spy film.

Luke loved me. He _loved_ me. My chest ached with the weight of that revelation. After everything he'd been through, that must have been such an incredible thing for him to say.

But I couldn't say it back. Not yet. Those words... they still retained echoes of Ben, of his essence. He'd said them, and then he'd left me, just like Dad left me. The grief had only just begun to recede into a dull, empty ache. I wasn't ready to open myself up to that kind of love anymore.

_Luke loves me._

The tears poured down my face, the cold wind turning them to ice on my face. I kept my eyes glued to the road in front of me. I longed so badly to love him back, to fall into his arms and feel completely safe, but it just wasn't possible. I knew I shouldn't have run away. I should've tried to explain exactly how I did feel, but the words caught in my throat like a bone lodged in my oesophagus. Now it was too late. I'd rejected him. Guys like Luke didn't stick around to get rejected twice.

I needed to get out of the forest. Away from the trees and the earthy scent that reminded me of both of them. Of Ben and Luke. Of my past and what might've been my future. I needed to clear my head and think.

I needed tea. And a pie. And a friendly ear to bend about my current predicament. _I'll go to town. Derek will probably be awake. He'll know what to do._

I kept checking behind me, but Luke hadn't followed me. _Good._ But it didn't feel good inside. I wished his wolf would come sprinting into view, pink tongue extended, powerful legs churning at the earth as he raced after me, ready to claim me back at any cost. I wished I could bear to hear those words from his lips again. I wished like hell I was brave enough to say them back, for I suspected I would mean them.

_No._ I couldn't think about it. I wasn't ready. I wasn't strong enough. _I have to get away... get away..._

By the time I exited the forest, the heat of the engine had thawed enough of the ice that I could see the road ahead. I wound up the window and texted Derek to see if I could come over. He responded that he wasn't home right then, but he would be in about an hour, and he'd be happy to see me.

The _Bewitching Bites_ bakery on the high street was open. They were empty at this time of the morning, so the stunning Asian woman behind the counter made me a cup of tea for free and talked me through their extensive cake selection. She looked vaguely familiar, and I gave a start as I realised she was the same woman who'd been sitting on the back of the motorcycle I'd passed earlier in the week. I sat on a rickety table by the window and devoured the best Cornish pasty I'd ever eaten, thinking about Luke and trying to stop myself from throwing it all back up again.

_You ruined everything._

My phone beeped. Derek was home. Good. I needed to talk to someone, to work this thing through in my head and figure out if I could fix it somehow. The woman boxed up half of a Heaven and Hell cake for me, and I drove over to his house. When he opened the door and saw my expression, his face immediately crumpled.

"Anna, what's wrong?" He flung open the door and I slunk inside.

"I'm such an idiot. But I brought sugar," I said, moving a giant coil of rope so I could slump down on his sofa. "Why do you have rope?"

"Oh, Rodney's decided to take up rock climbing." Derek took the cake box from my hands and fetched two plates, forks, and a knife from the kitchen, as well as two cups of tea.

"Sounds ambitious." Derek's flatmate wasn't exactly a small guy.

"I think he has the hots for the captain of the climbing club. Here." Derek passed me a small slice of cake. I pushed it away and grabbed the box, digging my fork into the layers of gooey whisky ganache. I shoved another slice in my mouth, and felt a tiny bit better. I was here with Derek. I had cake. I could sort this out, somehow.

"Okay, I can see this is an emergency." Derek nodded at the box as he picked up his slice. "It's about a guy, isn't it?"

"It sure is." I sniffed, shoving another forkful of cake into my mouth in a vain attempt to prevent a sob from escaping. "I met him on the dig and I... and he..."

"I figured," Derek said darkly. "You've been pretty distracted the last few days. You're only like that when you're in love."

I choked on my mouthful. My stomach heaved. I cupped my hands over my mouth as I coughed violently. "Don't say that," I whispered as I recovered. "Luke just told me... that he loved me."

"That's big. Especially after only a few days."

"Yeah." There was a pause while I scoffed more cake.

Derek asked in a strange, hard voice, "And do you love him?"

"I... don't know. I think so. Yes. But it doesn't matter. I got scared. I ran away. You should have seen his face, Derek. He was heartbroken. He won't be back for me."

"If he's going to bail on you when you're this emotionally battered, then he's a complete bastard," Derek declared. He moved closer to me and placed his arm around my shoulders. I sank back against him, enjoying the comfort of his shoulder while tears streamed down my cheeks.

"He just lost someone, too." I sniffed. "I think we're both a little too vulnerable for this intense emotional shit."

"I say forget about him," Derek said. "You don't need a guy like that dragging you down. You have other options."

"Oh yeah? Like what? Every guy I love dies. I think I am cursed."

"What about me?"

"You?" I turned up to him, smiling. He was joking, right? We'd already talked about this. But his face looked deadly serious.

"Yeah, sure. Me. Why not?" Derek stroked my shoulder with his hand. "We're perfect for each other. We're both academics. We like the same books and movies. We're always here for each other. We're already close. It wouldn't be much to take the next step."

"Derek..." I shook my head, my stomach churning. Why did he have to say this now? "We've already been through this. I don't see you like that. I'm sorry. We're friends. Good friends, and I love that. But friends is all we're ever going to be."

His face turned hard. His grip on my shoulder tightened. "That's a mistake, Anna, and you know it. We're meant to be together, I can feel it. It won't be long until you realise I'd make a fine mate."

Mate? There was that word again. But why was Derek saying it? Only shifters talked about their partners as mates. But Derek wasn't...

_Was he?_

"Come on, Anna. Don't tell me you hadn't figured it out." Derek stared at me, grinning.

In a flash, the pieces slotted together. Derek going away all the time to work on his project, where he couldn't be reached. He'd been gone at the same time as Luke – over the full moon. Derek had been the one who'd given me that book. No one had broken into my house – it was Derek all along.

I remembered Clara talking about her regulars coming in for their monthly pills. Derek must've been one of her regulars, which was why she couldn't tell us if there were other new wolves in the area, which had led Luke to suspect Caleb. When all along...

_Derek_ was the black wolf: the powerful shifter who'd destroyed the site and killed Misty Sharpe. I tried to scramble away, but he grabbed my other shoulder, pinning me tight against the sofa.

"But... " I spluttered. "But you're a Peyton. I saw it on your family tree. Your family hated werewolves."

"Correction, my family hated the _Lowe._ The Peytons are an ancient wolf pack, one of the first to settle in England. They wanted to be the only wolves in Crookshollow. This village is built upon two ley lines, a crossroads – it's a vitally important centre of supernatural species coming and going across England. My family wanted to control that, in the same way my grandfather controlled the church. The Lowe stood in their way."

"So why not just kill them? Why hurt the baby and make the villagers do it?"

"Because they were beloved," Derek growled. "And that could never work. You can't exercise control with kindness. We needed to remake the wolf. It's not enough just to kill a person, Anna. You have to kill the myth of them, too. When that baby was found torn to pieces, werewolves were once again creatures to be feared. And that was exactly what my great-grandfather wanted."

"That's awful," I sobbed.

"That's the circle of life. The strong kill those who stand in their way. And now," he added, his mouth twisting into an ugly grin, "you and your wolf are standing in _my_ way."

"But why destory the cave paintings?" I cried out, desperately trying to keep Derek talking. If he was talking, he wasn't tearing me to pieces.

"Because your boyfriend and the other Lowe wolf were going to use them to establish their pack in this area. I couldn't have that. Crookshollow is _mine._ I needed to show them what my grandfather had established a century ago – the Peytons are the dominant force in Crookshollow. And we are to be feared."

"Why did you kill the reporter?"

"That _woman,"_ he growled. "She wrote ridiculous, libellous things about my family. I couldn't allow those words to stand unopposed. If other wolves read that story and knew she still lived, they would believe the Peytons were weak. But I am not weak. I will not have my family name dragged through the mud in some cheap tabloid."

"Is that what you're doing?" I sobbed, trying to wrench my arm out from his grip. "Is this all to prove you're some kind of macho super wolf?"

"I told you. It's all to kill the myth of the Lowe, so that the Peyton myth can live on. I've destroyed the paintings, now I just need to make sure that no one who knows their true origin still lives. Then I alone will have control over the story of the caves."

"But you haven't," I exclaimed. "The photographs have been in all the papers. The BBC did a detailed story about the find. Experts from around the world are going to be studying those images. They will figure out they're fakes."

"No they won't, because they all want to believe in their own myths about the past. That's what always gets me about you archaeologists," Derek scoffed. "You think you're so _scientific,_ so _impartial._ But really, you need the meaning just as much as the rest of the world... the stories, the narrative, the mythos. You need to believe the paintings are a message from the distant past, and so that is exactly how they will be portrayed. No, I'm not worried about the paintings now. There are only three people who know the truth: the two Lowe wolves..." he grinned, "...and you."

He moved his hand to grip my chin, shifting his weight on my other wrist. I took the opening, and rolled to the side, launching all my bodyweight towards the coffee table. Derek cried out as I bent my arm back, my wrist snapping from his grasp. I slammed against the floor.

I grabbed the coffee table, trying to pull myself to my feet. Derek wrapped his powerful arms around my legs, dragging me back towards him. I grabbed my tea mug from the table and flung it into his face. He howled as the boiling liquid stung his skin, and he let go of me to rub his eyes. I scrambled to my feet and backed towards the door, putting the sofa between us.

"Stay away from me, Derek." A few more feet and I'd be close enough to lunge for it. "I know martial arts."

"No you don't." He grinned, shuffling towards me. The skin on his face was all red from where the hot tea had scalded him. Black bristles sprouted from his cheeks and forearms. I could already see his fingers deforming. He picked up Rodney's rope, and took another step towards me. "I'm your friend, remember? I know you took three classes at the YMCA, but then you quit when it clashed with _Time Team_ on the telly."

He lunged for me. I scrambled for the door. My hands closed around the knob, but Derek grabbed my hair, yanking me back. My scalp screamed. Derek shoved me face down on the floor, pinning my hands behind my back.

"Hold still." He growled in my ear. I tried to wriggle away. Derek trapped my legs beneath his. My head throbbed, my chest tight with panic. Derek wrapped the rope around my hands, trapping them behind my back. Then he let me fall. I slammed down hard on my knees, then tried to wriggle across the floor like a snail, but Derek placed a boot on my shoulder, stomping on me and keeping me in place. He held up a roll of tape. "I'm sorry about this," he said. "But I think you'll appreciate this. It's a bit like being an Egyptian mummy."

He rolled the tape around my body, taping my legs together, pinning my hands at my sides, and my legs together. Panic rose in my chest, pounding against the inside of my skull. _This is bad, this is seriously bad._

Derek picked me up like I was a stack of towels and carried me out to my car. He stuffed me into the back seat, pulled the keys from my pocket, and climbed in the front.

"Sorry I haven't put your seatbelt on," he said. "I know you have a thing about that. But I figure you're going to die soon, anyway, so it probably doesn't matter."

It took Derek three tries to start the engine. I hoped in vain that he wouldn't get the hang of it, but after a lot of swearing, it finally turned over. As my poor Mini bumped along the road, I slid around the seats, eventually ending up on the floor with my legs bent awkwardly in the air. I could see trees flashing by through the window. We were heading back into the forest.

_Luke,_ I thought, my mind reeling. _I know you can't hear me, but if you could, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

## Chapter Twenty-Four

# Luke

"Her car's gone," Caleb said, gesturing to the empty spot where her Mini had been parked.

"Yeah. She sped away pretty quick after my little revelation."

"Any idea where she might have gone?"

I racked my brain. Would Anna have gone deeper into the forest?

_No._ I remembered what she'd said about her previous boyfriend, how he'd had an accident and died in the forest. If she was upset, she wouldn't stay here, among the trees and memories. She'd head back to town, find someone to talk to, perhaps that guy she visited the other day.

"She's in Crookshollow," I said. "She had a friend there named Derek. I bet she's gone to see him."

"Let's go," Caleb pulled open the door of my truck and climbed in. "Keys?"

"Why are you driving?"

"Because you're too upset to think straight. And you're a shit driver."

"I can just feel that cousinly love," I growled, but there wasn't time to argue. I climbed in the passenger seat and tossed him the keys.

Caleb gunned the engine and we tore down the road. Behind us, Ruth came running towards us, the police officer from the other day hot on her heels. Ruth waved her arms frantically, yelling something I couldn't hear. As we sped past, the car wheel flicked a wad of mud right into her face. I would've burst out laughing if I wasn't so afraid.

We turned the corner, past the rotting oak where I'd first shown Anna what I truly was. We bounced along the road, every second feeling like a lifetime. Trees sped past in a blur. Rain pelted the windshield.

"Who's that?" Caleb jabbed his finger at the road ahead. We were coming up to a T-junction – the left fork leading into town, the right deeper into the forest. In front of us, a car sped across the T-junction, hurtling down the forest track. My stomach lurched. It was Anna's Mini. But a black-haired guy was driving it. I couldn't see anyone else in the car.

_Something's not right._ Anna loved that car. She'd never let anyone else drive it.

"Follow that car!" I yelled, leaning over and yanking the wheel around. The truck lurched towards the ditch.

"I know, fuck!" Caleb batted me away, grabbing the wheel and steering the truck back on the road. He put his foot to the floor. I grabbed the handle as we hurtled towards the Mini.

We quickly gained on them, but the black-haired driver showed no sign of stopping. I could just make out a large shape slumped across the back seats. Was that Anna? My stomach lurched. The Mini skidded around a corner, fighting for control in the mud. Its right front wheel lost traction on the dirt road, and it pitched into the ditch. The bonnet hit an oak, and buckled around it.

"Anna," I screamed.

"Fuck!" Caleb slammed on the brakes. I threw open the door and leapt from the car before he'd even stopped.

I landed hard on my feet, flailing my arms to keep my balance. The air reeked of the bad wolf. I ploughed towards the Mini. As I reached the back door, I caught another glimpse of that object slumped along the back seat. It definitely looked like a person, tied up with rope. I noticed Anna's boots flailing in the air. I grabbed for the door handle. Something large and black and furry leapt from the front window and slammed into me.

I hit the ground hard, my back cracking on the road. The wolf's claws dug into my shoulders, his sharp teeth snapping just millimetres from my face. Hot saliva dribbled over my cheeks. His black fur gleamed from the rain.

As I fought with him for control, I forced my own change, my limbs cracking and shifting beneath the wolf's iron grip. As my snout grew outward and my teeth sharpened, I snapped back at him. I caught his cheek, tearing a piece of skin. He yelped with surprise, then slashed at my shoulder. I winced as he drew blood, pain flaring through my body.

As suddenly as the wolf was on top of me, he was gone. I heard him yelp as he sailed through the air, his vicious claws flailing for purchase. Another shape hurtled through the air, bearing a distinctive reddish hue.

_Caleb._

He slammed the black wolf into the earth, his teeth digging into black fur. The black wolf howled as blood spurted between Caleb's teeth. As quickly as I could, I pulled myself to my feet. My front leg shot with pain as I placed weight on it, but I had to push through the pain. I needed to get to Anna.

Caleb and the wolf tumbled across the road, their teeth bared, their claws locked tight into each other's flesh. Blood smeared across the ground. _Can't worry about them now._ I grabbed the door of the Mini and pulled. It wouldn't budge. _It must be locked._

My heart sank into my knees as I noticed the huge dent along the side of the car. It had buckled the door so badly, it was now clamped shut.

_Anna!_

I barked at the limp figure, banging on the window with my paw. The shape on the floor wriggled. I heard a strained grunt.

It was her. Her eyes met mine, wide and full of terror. In a flash I changed back to my human form. "Try to move away from me!" I shouted. She heaved herself up and leaned forward, presenting her back to the window. I could see her hands tied to her sides with tape, her mouth also taped shut. My stomach clenched as I saw blood running down the side of her face.

I slammed my fist into the window. Pain splintered through my arm as the glass shattered into pieces. Anna screamed through her gag as glass fell into the car. I grabbed a rock from beside the track and used it to bash out the rest of the glass.

I leaned inside, barely feeling the jagged glass on the edge of the window as it tore at my chest. "This is going to hurt!" I shouted. Anna screamed as I tugged off the tape securing her mouth.

"Luke," she sobbed. "Get Derek. He was my friend but he's really—"

"I know," I growled. "Hold still."

I transformed back into the wolf, and leapt in through the window. I dug my claws under the tape holding Anna's arms in place, and sliced through it with ease. She flexed her fingers, wincing with pain, while I freed her legs. She leaned forward and unlocked the opposite door, sliding across the seat and outside.

I leapt out after her, just as the black wolf – Derek – skidded across the road, Caleb's jaws clamped around his foot. As the wolves barrelled towards us, Derek's body shifted, and he became a naked man, his enormous muscles straining as he dragged himself across the dirt, blood streaming from his wound. Caleb growled, trying to dig his teeth deeper into Derek's leg, but Derek grabbed the wolf around the neck and, muscles tensed, tossed him aside like a cuddly toy. Fuck, he was strong. Caleb hit a tree on the other side of the road, and crumpled into a heap. He didn't get up.

"Caleb?" Anna croaked out. Her voice sounded strained, weak. What had this bastard done to her?

"We meet at last, Lowe." Derek stood up. He spat out my name, as though it were poison. "I'm pleased both you and your cousin fell for my trap. It will make my work all the easier to complete."

"And what work is that?" I demanded, placing my body between his and Anna's. She wrapped her trembling fingers around my forearm.

"I'm here to finish what my grandfather started," Derek hissed. "To destroy the Lowe clan completely, so that Crookshollow will once again belong to the Peytons – wolves who aren't afraid of their wild nature, wolves who are ready to take their rightful place as rulers of humans—"

While Derek was talking over his plan, as all criminal masterminds did, I could hear Anna scrambling in the car behind me. I didn't dare draw attention to what she was doing by turning around, but I hoped like hell she wasn't being obvious about whatever she was trying to do. I had no idea what until I felt something cold and smooth press against my hand. It was a long sherd of glass. A weapon.

"Why now?" I demanded, trying to keep him talking. "Robert Peyton killed off my family, for all he knew. Why did he not establish his pack here and rule Crookshollow with an iron fist, as he clearly always intended to do?"

"After he destroyed your pack, the church decided he was too _spirited_ for this sleepy village," Derek scoffed. "They sent him up to Ireland, to root out the infidels there. He was killed in a barroom brawl, and his brothers were not fit to fill his shoes as alpha. They disgraced our name with their drinking and gambling, and our family heritage was reduced to a shadow."

Behind Derek, Caleb was dragging himself to his feet. He started to change, his limbs slowly contorting and clicking into place. His injuries were slowing down his shift... or was this intentional? Blood oozed from a cut along his leg, but how bad was it really? I still couldn't shift my nagging feeling that Caleb and Derek were working together... that Caleb wasn't a Lowe at all, but a relative of Derek's. That all their fighting was just a ruse to force me to trust Caleb.

_If it's a ruse, it's a bloody committed one. He looks seriously beaten up._

Derek was still talking. "... his son – my father – became a schoolteacher and tried to live among humans. He taught me nothing but shame for my heritage. When I started digging into our history, I knew I had to come back here, to wait for the best time to reclaim our lands. And then Anna found the paintings, and I smelled you on her. I knew a Lowe had returned, and that now was the perfect time."

"It certainly is," I said, my fingers tightening around the glass shard. I leapt at Derek.

He darted to the side, clearly anticipating my move. I tried to pivot towards him, but he slammed his fist into the side of my skull. My head rang. My vision blurred. I hit the ground hard, the shock of it paralysing me.

In a flash Derek had grabbed Anna, holding her around the neck, pressing her body against his. With his other hand, he dug around in the back of the Mini, and pulled out my crowbar, which he held aloft.

"You hadn't even noticed this was missing from your truck. If you come any closer, I'll stave her head in."

Fear coursed through me, mingling with the white hot rage that flooded my veins. _He wouldn't do this to her._ I still had the glass in my hand. I'd been gripping it so tight, my own blood flowed between my fingers.

"Just do as he says, Luke," Anna cried. "He'll let us all go if you just give him the caves."

_Luke._ Caleb mouthed, waving his arms. _Over here._

He was in the perfect position. I could toss him the shard as I attacked Derek. If I could grab the crowbar, Caleb could slice his throat before he even knew what's happening. But that nagging doubt wouldn't leave me. Why hadn't Derek checked to see if Caleb was really out of it? If I threw Caleb the glass, and he was really part of Derek's scheme, I'd be handing him the means to kill Anna.

Trust no one. My father's words burned in my mind. My father had lived by that motto, and he'd kept us safe together, alone in the forests my whole life. How could I now trust this wolf who said he was my cousin, with the most precious thing in the world to me?

But then I remembered Anna's words. "You have to learn to trust again, to love again. It's the only way you'll be truly free."

"Fuck it," I said, and I threw the glass.

Caleb caught it in his hands, and as one we advanced on Derek. He swung out with the crowbar, aiming for my head, but Anna chose that moment to sink her teeth into the flesh of his arm, and his swing faltered. I grabbed the bar in mid-air, using the momentum to swing his body around, just as Caleb's arm went around his throat, the glass slashing against his skin.

Derek dropped Anna to grab the crowbar with both hands. "Anna, get out of here!" I screamed. She ducked underneath our raised arms, scrambling for the car. Caleb gripped Derek's face, his hands slick with blood, his face twisted into an ugly scowl as he dragged the glass across Derek's throat.

Derek's grip on the crowbar loosened, and I wrenched it from his hand. His eyes bugged out as I held the tip of the bar against his cheek. "Time to say goodnight," I hissed. "You won't be seeing the full moon again."

"Don't kill him." Anna's voice penetrated my rage. "Please, you're not a killer, Luke."

The wolf within me surged, begging for flesh. Derek's wild eyes bore into mine, begging me to finish him, to give him the dignity of a true wolven death. But behind him stood Anna, her back pressed against the Mini. Her eyes wide with fear, her hand clutched at her heart. The pain in her voice tore at my soul. Her whole life had been death; she couldn't bear any more of it.

I lowered the crowbar. Derek slumped against Caleb, his body too weak to fight any longer. Caleb kept a tight grip on Derek, pulling him down on the earth. I dropped the crowbar on the earth, and crouched down beside him.

I wiped the smear of blood over his eyes. Derek stared up at me with blazed pupils, wild and defiant even as his body trembled with weakness. I leaned in close, and said, "I claim this territory for the Lowe pack. You have challenged my pack, and you have failed. You attacked my mate, and therefore, I will not grant you the boon of an honourable death. You are to return to your family in Ireland, and tell them of your disgrace. You may tell them that the Lowe once again rule here in Crookshollow. And if I ever see your face around here again, I will not be so lenient."

Derek spat in my face. His warm drool rolled down my cheek. I wiped away the insult, and laughed, laughed right in his face. Caleb joined in; it was the ultimate insult, draining Derek of his last burst of defiance. He slumped to the earth, his hands clasped around the wound in his throat. He was badly wounded, and utterly beaten.

Someone crashed into me. "Luke... oh, Luke." Anna sobbed as she held me, her tiny body rocking against mine. I wrapped my arms around her, relief surging through me. It was over, it was all over.

Anna was safe; the wolf was neutralised; my family honour would be restored. All was right with the world.

## Chapter Twenty-Five

# Anna

Luke let Caleb drive the jeep back to the site, while he crawled in the back with me. He didn't seem to want to let go of me, which suited me just fine. Our lips met in a long, luxurious kiss. I devoured him, the relief of still being alive and of having him alive coursing through my veins. The adrenaline made me dazed, giddy, and his tongue against mine felt like the most incredible thing on earth.

"I meant what I said before," Luke murmured against my lips. His arms squeezed me. "I love you, Anna."

"I know you do. That scared me."

"I understand."

"But not anymore." I wrapped my arms around him, losing myself in his kind green eyes. "Being abducted by Derek... it showed me something, something I should have learned from Dad and from Ben. Life can end in a moment, and all we have is what we're given. I don't want to waste a single moment of the life I've been given being scared of what might be or what could happen. I want to embrace all of my feelings, all of my dreams, even the scary ones. _Especially_ the scary ones."

"What does that mean?" His eyes penetrated mine.

"It means... I love you too." The words, once released, hung in the air between us. "And that I want to be your mate."

"You do? Even after almost getting killed and your archaeological site being destroyed and everything?"

"We're meant to be together." I brushed my lips against his. My chest swelled with emotion. My voice hitched a little as I said, "I knew it from the first moment we met, but I've been fighting it all this time. Well, no more. I'm not going to argue with fate."

"If anyone could, it would be you." Luke kissed my nose.

Caleb yanked on the brake, and the jeep juddered to a halt on the edge of the campsite. "Get out," he growled, "before your lovey-dovey shit makes me sick to my stomach."

It took a bit of manoeuvring to get out of the car with Luke's arms wrapped around me, but we managed.

Ruth and Frances came running up to us. "What's going on?" Ruth demanded. "The police are still waiting to talk to you. You ran away, he was naked... it's as if you two were guilty or something."

"Your behaviour has been very uncooperative over this whole excavation," Frances scolded. "Really, Anna. I'm surprised at you. This is no way to conduct yourself if you want a career as an archaeologist—"

" _My_ behaviour has been uncooperative?" I fumed. Luke's arms around my chest reassured me. "I'm the only one doing any actual archaeology here. You've been so busy running your own PR campaign, you haven't even really _looked_ at the cave paintings. I know, because I've been researching them, and I discovered that they are fakes."

"Oh, be serious," Ruth flared. "You're just saying that because you're jealous—"

"No, I'm saying that because it's a fact." All the built-up frustration poured out of me. "Even if you ignore the two figures wearing crosses around their necks in the second-to-last frieze, the hunting scene is all you need to establish a reliable date. The painting clearly shows a band of wolves hunting a pig. The artist has done a remarkable job rendering the pig, so remarkable you can even figure out the particular breed of pig – an Oxford Sandy and Black pig. That breed of pig that wasn't present in England until three hundred years ago."

"That's... that's impossible!" Ruth spluttered.

Frances paled. She slumped against the trunk of a tree. I could see in her eyes that she believed me. "No," she whispered.

"She's lying," Ruth said. "I checked over the painting myself. There wasn't a single indication they weren't genuine neolithic. She just wants to discredit me at any cost—"

"Anna wouldn't lie about this," Frances said, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked ill. I felt awful for destroying her dreams like that.

"I'm sorry, Frances," I said, and I meant it. "I didn't mean to ruin everything. I wasn't trying to prove you wrong, I just wanted to do my own research."

"This is a disaster," Frances moaned.

"Cheer up," Luke said. "So the paintings weren't real. They were still an interesting part of what makes these caves unique, and that uniqueness is now forever attached to your name. And besides, at least one good thing came out of this whole adventure."

"What's that?" Ruth demanded.

"Anna is going to marry me."

"What?" I whirled around to face him. Was this another one of his jokes?

"How about it?" he asked, his green eyes sparkling. "We've only know each other for a few days, but I've never felt this way about anyone before. I love your kindness, your passion, your geekiness. I may have lost my family, but with you by my side, I know I'll never feel alone."

"Oh, Luke." My heart swelled. I couldn't believe the depth of his feeling, the intensity of his gaze. Between us, the energy that drew us together danced and crackled in the air.

"What do you say?" Luke gave me a tentative smile. "Want to help me fulfil one of my own scary dreams?"

"Sure," I said, not even hesitating. I was done second-guessing love. I wanted to be with Luke, he wanted to be with me, and that was all that mattered.

Luke grinned maniacally, a sight that melted my heart. He gathered me in his arms. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Ruth, her petulant mouth set in a firm line, her eyes wide with shock and disgust. But then, I was swallowed up in Luke's embrace, his deep scent pulling me under. I sank into his kiss, lost in the depth of our love.

I was alive, and I was the mate of a strong, kind werewolf. It was the most glorious feeling in the world.

## Chapter Twenty-Six

# Epilogue: Anna

### Six months later

The bell inside the store tinkled. Clara glanced up from her magazine, a broad smile falling across her wizened face as Luke and I pushed our way through the beaded curtain and into the shop beyond.

"There are my favourite newlyweds," she gushed, racing out from behind the counter to embrace us both. "Let me have a good look at you. Anna, you have such a beautiful tan, dear."

"I know." I grinned, twirling around to show off my beach body in my new Italian sundress. It seemed too bright and cheery for the drab English day, but I was still riding the buzz from our honeymoon. Being with Luke made me feel bright and happy, every single day.

"Why are you back from Italy so soon? I wasn't expecting you two for another few weeks." Clara jabbed a bony elbow into my ribs. "Is wolf-boy not satisfying you?"

"Hey! She is plenty satisfied." Luke grinned. "We had to cut our honeymoon short because _someone_ got accepted to a postgraduate program at Yale University."

I grinned. I still couldn't believe it was true. We'd been stuffing our faces at a little pizzeria after seeing the ruins of Pompeii when I checked my phone and saw the acceptance email. _Yale University._ I'd be starting in just a few weeks, so we needed to cut our honeymoon short so I could come home and pack.

Clara wrapped her arms around me. "Congratulations. I knew you could do it."

"So did I," Luke said. "My wife is pretty amazing."

I was still getting used to the concept of being Luke's mate, and now I was his wife as well. I couldn't believe my life had changed so much in the six months since knowing Luke. I'd been so afraid of my mother's reaction when I introduced him. But instead she'd warmed to him as if he were her own son. Now, the two of them did puzzles together and teased me mercilessly about my love of Star Trek.

My work had exploded after the news of the faked paintings came out. I'd published a paper on dating cave paintings based on animal breeds, inspired by my work on the Crookshollow cave site. With Frances's connections, I managed to get it published in a major academic journal. That paper, coupled with my stellar grades, had earned me a full scholarship to the archaeological program at Yale. For the next two years at least, I didn't have to worry about money – I could just study old stuff and soak up a new adventure with my amazing husband.

And, of course, Luke and I got married. The day was wonderful – we had a small ceremony at Luke's cabin in Sherwood Forest. Clara was our officiant. She read quotes from some of our favourite authors, and I carried a small locket containing pictures of Dad and Ben in my bouquet. We followed the ceremony with photographs in amongst the towering oaks, and a champagne picnic lunch. Both Caleb and Luke looked amazing in their crisp white shirts, grey trousers, and ties engraved with a new Lowe family crest. My mother couldn't stop smiling all day. Even Frances came along to congratulate us. Ruth transferred to Exeter University, so I didn't even have to invite her to the wedding. All in all, it was the perfect day.

"We've just come in to stock up on a supply of Lycan pills," I said. "Luke is coming with me to Yale, and I don't know how long it will be before we can find a reliable USA supplier."

"When do you leave?" Clara asked, suddenly looking worried.

"In three weeks' time. We need to get settled in our apartment before the semester begins. But if that's a problem—"

"Oh, dear." Clara tsked, taking my hand and rubbing it. "That's going to be very difficult."

"If you can't get the pills in on time, you could just ship them over. That is, if they can get through customs—"

"That's not what I'm talking about, dear."

"Oh, you mean leaving my mother?" I grinned. "It's all worked out. She's selling her flat and moving to America with us. It will be a fresh start for all of us."

"No," Clara grinned. "I mean attending a rigorous academic program while being a mother. That could get very stressful."

"A... what are you talking about?"

Clara pointed to my stomach. "You're pregnant, dear."

"What..." I glanced down at my flat stomach. Surely Clara was kidding? "No, I'm not."

"I'm afraid you are."

"But how?"

"I think all that smokin' hot sex in the hotel, or on the beach, or behind the cabana might have had something to do with it," Luke growled in my ear. He wrapped his arms around me.

"Luke!" I swatted him away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I mean, how do you know, Clara? Luke and I haven't even been trying. We're not even ready—"

"Whether you're ready or not." Clara grinned. "That baby is on the way. Trust me, Anna. I have seen more than enough human mates of shifters come through this shop over the years. I know all the signs to look for."

Luke glared at her. "This is serious? You're not making some kind of cruel joke?"

"This is not my joking face, Lucas Lowe."

Luke threw his arms around me. He pressed his lips to mine, his tongue savouring mine. "We're going to have a baby, Anna." His grin stretched across his entire face. "We're going to have a family. A new generation of the Lowe pack. A new science-fiction geek you can mould in your own perfect image."

I touched my stomach. I couldn't believe that inside was growing a tiny person. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would we have a werewolf like Luke, or would our tiny person be fully human? Either way, he or she would be amazing.

Luke and I were going to be parents. I didn't know how we were going to do it, _and_ juggle my master's degree at the same time, but I knew one thing – I couldn't wait to find out.

With my mate by my side, nothing was impossible.

_Anna and Luke are having a baby! Find out what else they get up to in a FREE bonus scene – to read it, all you have to do is sign up toSteffanie Holmes' VIP club. You'll also get exclusive previews, fun giveaways, and hot teasers._

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_Want more stories from Crookshollow? Get Caleb and Rosa's story as well as more sizzling romance from the hottest shifter pack in Britain for one special price in theWolves of Crookshollow Collection._

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_Steffanie Holmes is the author of steamy reverse harem and paranormal romance. Her books feature clever, witty heroines, wild shifters, cunning witches and alpha males who always get what they want._
