

### BERSERKER

### THE TWINS

### LUKA

### The Odin

### Book IIII

### Olivia Barrington-Leigh

### Smashwords Edition

### Copyright 2019 Olivia Barrington-Leigh

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

### Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

### Table of Contents

### BESERKER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

### The Twins

Prelude

Thursday Night

Friday Morning

Friday Evening

Saturday Afternoon

Sunday Morning

Sunday Evening

Monday Morning

Monday Evening

Tuesday Morning

Tuesday Afternoon

Tuesday Evening

Wednesday Morning

Wednesday Afternoon

Wednesday Night

Thursday Morning

Friday Evening

### Luka

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Epilogue

### Author Notes

### BOOKS BY OLIVIA BARRINGTON LEIGH

### Berserker

### Chapter One

Sandpaper-lined lids fluttered open to a world colored sepia; a world that didn't make sense even if the sounds did. Peeling fabric wallpaper exposed thin wood slats that peeked through missing plaster falling out in chucks. The dark-edged splotches of water damage dotted the ceiling and the stench of mold and mildew fought a fierce battle with those of stale cigarette smoke and human waste. Somewhere music played and people partied, but each cord was the fading wave of an echo and the sound of gallivanting was hushed. The town was living up to its famous motto: _Laissez les bon temps rouler_. Those good times rolling coaxed her from a sleep so deep her mind struggled to make the final leap to awake. At the sound of a door opening nearby her breathing slowed and every muscle went lax to appear sleep—or unconscious. It had been a sort of trick when she was younger, no more than six, to remain motionless. There was usually a blanket involved, pulled over her head and hugged tight to her body. Her little girl's mind believing if she didn't move a threat couldn't see her. Years later she learned her childhood fake was something known by every good soldier—every good assassin. It wasn't about the false sense of protection and cloak of invisibility offered by a square of material, it was about the threat in the room not being aware of your state of mind. Only when the footsteps receded did she allow herself a single deep breath.

She tightened various muscles in her body to take inventory of injury. The footsteps of anonymous, the knowledge that he (or she) could be them and training kept her motionless as her clouded mind registered each ache. There was nothing that would hinder her from fighting. The pains were serious in a different way. What she couldn't remember her body gave testament and she didn't like the confession being made. A lesser woman would have cracked, would have allowed panic and horror to break through, to break her. She was made of sturdier stuff. The slow, methodical rise from the mattress was done on bated breath. She stood, amazed at her silent ascent after taking stock of what she'd laid on. She tried not to think of the filth covering the bare mattress or what had happened on it—before her _and_ to her. She pulled her bra in place and she allowed a single hitched breath after discovering her torn panties around her waist.

She'd been trained by men that governments would have sworn were the best if they'd admitted to their existence and by men who could cut those men's throats. Some would have said she was a hard woman—unbreakable, unmoving. Most days they'd be right. Not today. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. When she opened them she scanned the room. Her feet were solidly planted on hardwoods so dark they could be black. The only furnishing was the old iron bed she'd been lying on and the only thing littering the floors was trash. Where the fuck were the rest of her clothes?

Across the room light filtered in from a window large enough for her to fit through. Anxiousness bounced from foot to foot waiting to be tagged in and take caution's place. But squeaking floors were worse than squeaking beds and the old planks announcing her every step kept her from making a run for it. She was on the second floor, maybe the third and she meant to get out. Even if it meant jumping. She picked up her foot, shifted her weight and took a cautious first step. Each step seemed weighed, as if her body knew her mind was leading it away from the safety offered in the shouts and cries of the drunken masses located on the other side of the house. Beyond the closed door. With no way of knowing who or what lay in wait on the other side the window was the best first plan. She reached the window and peered through dirty, wavy glass to find only cobblestone below to break the three story fall. She tried opening the window anyway. It didn't budge.

She braided her hair and tied a knot at the end to keep it from unraveling. She looked down her body. Her feet and legs were bare, her shirt stopped at the top of her thighs and half the buttons were missing, exposing her white lace bra. Rage built in her gut as bile rose in her throat. Finding a police should have been on the top of her list of priorities, right after escape but they'd only be a hindrance. She had a different kind of justice in mind for the assholes that had dared take her. The kind the men in blue would frown upon. The kind that would land her in jail. Possibly on death row. Fantasies of slow torture made her breathe easier and calmed her heart. She could hardly wait.

She stood with her ear pressed against the door for long moments. The knob turned easy but the door stuck and stayed that way. She held her breath as she gave a hard yank, certain that her wakefulness would be announced by screaming hinges, but like the bed and floor, it was quiet. Her eyes darted in every direction, taking in the limited space the crack in the door allowed: a stretch of faded carpet-runner, worn bare in the middle from decades of foot traffic, more hardwood, more peeling wallpaper and crumbling ceilings. She opened the door slowly until the space was big enough to fit through. The front door stood like a beacon of hope three floors below. There was stealth in the dash as she rushed along the stretch of hallway on the balls of her feet. Each footfall still sounded like thunder. Voices stopped her on the second floor and she headed in the direction of the conversation. She didn't dare lean against the door. Just because hers stuck didn't mean this one wouldn't swing open the second she touched it.

"We were told to pick her up and hold her."

"I did," a second man answered.

The sound of masculine laughter took form, became a physical thing that ran down her skin like something slimy. A rage so great it closed her throat and threatened to steal common sense filled her. She was ready to rush the room. Two against one weren't bad odds considering who she was, but there was no way of knowing how skilled the men were on the other side of the door, or if there were even just two. The sound of a third man proved her point and stayed her hand that was white-knuckling the doorknob she had no memory of grabbing.

"Where are you going?" The first voice asked.

She took a step back. Not to run—oh no—even if it meant her death she needed to see red, needed to feel the blood of her rapists on her skin. Time stood still and yet the knob turned and the door opened.

### **-**

Henri Deveaux made the Russian mob look like Boy Scouts and the Yakuza an unorganized bunch of street hustlers. He was an excellent shot, good with a knife but hand to hand was what he'd pick if given the choice. He loved two things: his daughter and his money—in that order and nothing else.

At five-eleven and a solid two-hundred and twenty-five pounds, his muscles were not defined but there wasn't a soft spot on his body. His hair was a true black, wavy, and hit the top of his shoulders. He wore it pulled back in a low ponytail, giving him the illusion of short hair. His face was hard lines and sharp angles. He was not classically handsome but his mixed-race heritage made him exotic and women took notice when he stepped in the room.

Henri didn't do girlfriends and he didn't' pay for sex. He didn't wine or dine. He fucked, and if you were good, you got a repeat. He never planned on having children and on the occasion a woman showed up pregnant claiming to be carrying his baby she found herself in a stirrup-fitted bed within the hour. So how was it that his daughter's mother gave birth? She didn't tell him until after the baby was born.

Eve Tillman was a hustler and she wanted a baby about as much as Henri. The game she played could have gotten her killed, could have gotten the newborn she'd brought to his restaurant killed. There's an old saying: God watches over babies and fools, and on that cold January day two stood before one of the hardest men on earth. Eve had been hoping for money, payments or one lump sum. What she got was cab fare and a promise that her body would never be found if Henri ever saw her face again. When Eve reached for the baby at her feet he told her to put his goddamn daughter down. It wasn't that he didn't like children. He knew they would become a liability. There hadn't been a single thing in his life he wasn't willing to lose. His parents were long dead and he had been an only child.

The baby was at his side day and night until he found a suitable nanny and a bodyguard he could trust with her life. He fitted his house with a security system that rivaled the White House. There were guards on twenty-four hour patrol on the grounds and at the gates of his estates when he took up residence in one. No expense had been spared when it came to her safety.

Leontyne Gabrielle Deveaux had been trained by ex-special ops soldiers and assassins. She was a better killer than most of the men he employed. Contacting her father on a regular basis when she was out of the house was a non-negotiable rule that had never been broken and defiantly not ignored if any real distance separated them. She was in New Orleans, he was in New York. She'd called when she landed, called right before she'd gone out, called again at one in the morning but not at two. At three he'd called her. Her phone rang and went to voice mail, at four it'd gone straight to voicemail. Even if she called now he'd still head to New Orleans. He'd been waiting for a ransom request, body part or God forbid, a body from day one. His daughter not calling to check in, not answering her phone, not being at home had alarm bells ringing loud and clear. He'd given her more freedom since she returned from the gap year that turned into two. It was no surprise when she picked Xavier and not somewhere closer. The South was where she considered home. Henri still owned his family estate, an old sugarcane plantation, but Leontyne lived in a small residence in the city. It was a town that never slept—a party town. He should have known better.

He was still in a suit because, yes, he was that kind of father. The lights in his office were daylight bright and his personal guard had been standing at the door since Leontyne's first missed check in. God help the lone bodyguard that accompanied her. If he wasn't already dead, he would be. He'd killed for lesser offenses. His daughter's safety took precedence over everything: property, money, his own well-being and life.

The phone rang and he answered before the first full ring. At a quick glance he knew it wasn't his daughter. He'd placed calls and people were scouring the streets looking for her.

"Speak."

"Her house is empty. I've obtained video feed from the night club she went to..."

"And," he asked when the man on the other end paused. A cop. One of many that Henri kept well paid in the cities he had residences in.

There man swallowed hard enough to be heard over the phone. "She left with two men."

There was no double stands in his house. The rules would have been the same if she had been born a boy. When she lost her virginity at sixteen he'd invited her into his office and gave her a glass filled with bourbon that cost more than most people's first car. She hadn't called, was unreachable, and it was after five in the morning—no fucking was that good.

He waited for the man to continue. When the line remained silent he said through gritted teeth, "And."

"She was drunk."

The words creased his brow. Leontyne had only been drunk once in her life. Once. He ended the call, cutting short the rest of the dribble spilling from the cop's mouth. There was no way his daughter had been drunk. He turned to the man who stood sentry and held vigil with him.

"We leave in ten minutes."

He didn't speak, didn't nod, he turned on his heels and left the room. The men who had been with him long enough to see the baby grow into a beautiful woman loved her just as much as her father. They were chomping at the bit to find her, to get on the plane Henri had just ordered and hunt her ass down.

### **-**

The streets below were filled with people and would be for the duration of the week. Bands and floats passed in an endless stream and drunkard parade watchers screamed from the sidelines for the goodies being tossed to the crowd. He lifted his gaze to the balcony directly across from his and was flashed. The girl was young, her breasts were real and gravity had yet to take hold. They were a nice pair of tits for sure. He raised his glass and tipped his head at her. The sounds of zydeco mingle with a marching band and both were nearly drowned out by the sound of the crowd standing shoulder to shoulder on the city's main drag.

"Would you like another?"

The waitress had come to check on him every five minutes since he sat down and gotten increasingly brazen with the come-hither looks.

"No, thank you."

The heady scent of her arousal floated like perfume in the air as she walked away. He took a long deep breath.

He watched the latest parade passing on the street below the private balcony. He'd come to the club to find refuge as his house was transformed. Restoration on the plantation home built a century ago had just been finished. It had only been a week since the construction workers and decorators vacated the premises. Replaced by caterers, and decorators of a different sort. The kind that had nothing to do with original furnishings and everything to do with flowers, flowers and more flowers. Not to mention about a million candles, miles of fabric and enough silver to back the dollar.

Furious Panye's history was written in blood, his ledger full of red. He was a warrior of Odin, a berserker. His seven-three frame and three hundred and twenty pounds was enough to keep people uneasy. Big and bulky beneath his clothes hills and valleys of muscle covered him from neck to calf; even his hands and feet were strong. His hair was black, his eyes deep set, black, small, some might even call beady. A beard covered most of his face but didn't hide full thick lips

He was a quiet, solitary man, but to say his temper was on a hair-trigger was an understatement. Most babies inherit eye and hair color, or attached earlobes, he was gifted with rage. Anger when unleashed was almost impossible to control and sent him in what could only be described as a frenzy. To lose his temper meant very bad things happened. So he'd mastered his temper when most children were taking wobbly first steps. No good came from him getting angry, not for him, especially not for those on the receiving end of it. He was not a lady's man but he'd never lacked the attention of the opposite sex. He'd been with the same woman for a lifetime. He'd left the dark goddess upon the arrival of the first box van and came to the club. It was opened twenty-four hours this time of year.

For half a century he'd shared his life with a woman, had stayed faithful though no promises were made by either party. Curiosity and commonality turned into cohabitation and companionship and for fifty-five—no—fifty-six years they'd been content if not happy. He and Helena found each other when it was just the thing they both needed. Their time spent together was a blink of the eye considering they'd both walked the earth longer than any creature they'd ever encountered. After that much time it seemed miraculous their paths hadn't crossed before. But Helena wasn't a thing one forgot. Ever. The dark goddess' exotic beauty surpassed all others. She was striking in a way that stopped people in their tracks. Literally. And she was just as deadly and dangerous as she was beautiful.

His brethren were all long gone, his kind all killed or perhaps the genes of the once famous warriors watered down until he was the last who possessed their original gifts. Either way, there had once been more. And he remembered them. The same could not be said for Helena. She was one of a kind and that kind of seclusion takes its toll on a person. To be surrounded by an ever growing population, a world filled with countless ethnicities, cultures and creatures and not belonging to a single one—he couldn't fathom.

He pulled his wallet from his jacket and dropped enough cash on the tabletop to cover the bill and leave a substantial tip for the waitress. He ducked his head at the opened French doors leading from the balcony into the interior of the club and maneuvered around low hanging light fixtures as he made his way to the exit. He'd driven into the city but felt like stretching his legs a bit. Lately he'd been—antsy, a sure sign it was time for a change. Not in local, he'd just moved back, but in his life.

The sidewalk and streets were standing room only but people cleared the way for him, even those who weren't looking at him. Their subconscious registering the threat even if their drunken mind did not. In his long life he'd both envied and pitied the mortal species, now he figured they got what they deserved. He would have thought beings with such a short lifespan would spend more time figuring out ways to prolong it. Alas, they'd only grown stupider and Furious cared not what happened the species.

He was a creature of war, but it was friendship that sprung to mind on his slow stroll through the city. Jean Rene, Alexis, Rob, Tomas, Luka Constantine, Tristian, Titus and Wallace—the pack—his pack. How long had it been? He'd met Helena's soon after the disbanding so sixty years give or take. God, how he missed them. They had all separated with heavy hearts at the order of the only man any of them would have ever followed. For the first time in forever he wondered what happened to them. How had their lives turned out? Each man's face drifted in and out of his mind's eye as he left the sounds of partying and entered a residential neighborhood. Maybe he should try to find one. Maybe find them all.

### Chapter Two

Rage buzzed like angry bees in Leontyne's head. The man standing in front of her body faced forward but his head was turned, looking back into the room. Shock and surprise bloom across the faces of two men sitting in the room as she stepped in front of the babbling idiot she was going to kill. One was sitting in a chair next to a fireplace, the other's arm was propped on the mantel with his foot on the raised hearth.

Reconnaissance and training had drawn her in the direction of the voices and kept her at the door listening. She'd meant to find out who had taken her and why. Anger, no, strike that—fury—had moved her to the front of the door.

Leontyne brought her hand up, slamming the heel of it into the asshole's nose as soon as he turned around, then brought her knee up, envisioning his nuts sprouting from his mouth. He doubled over, blood pouring from his broken nose and a single squawk escaping him from the nut shot. She was angry enough to beat him to death but the others were on the move. She grabbed his head and twisted. The sound of his neck snapping was the sweetest music. She spit on him before running like her life depended on it—because it did.

She hit the door she'd spotted from the third floor with enough force to shake her teeth. A quick twist and pull on the knob told her she wasn't getting out that way. She was on the first floor of a house with windows tall enough for her to walk through. She just had to get to one.

Running into the room to the right of the door, she grabbed a chair sitting next to some closed heavy drapes that were holding up well compared to the rest of the furnishings in the house. She was getting ready to smash through the window when the man who'd been sitting in the chair ran into the room. He grabbed a chair leg, nearly pulling her off balance. Leontyne turned her body, held the chair like a four prong shield and ran forward. He hadn't expected it and stumbled backwards until his back came into contact with a bookshelf. Heavy tomes rained down like confetti filling the air with dust and the smell of dry-rotted paper. The world narrowed down to just the two of them. She wanted him dead, she wanted them all dead, and if it was the last thing she did she meant to see it happen, meant to do it herself. With thoughts of vengeance blinding her, she didn't see the second man enter. He grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side and lifting her from the ground. Previously trapped man didn't' waste time coming to his friend's aid. She lifted both legs planting them halfway between the charging man's stomach and chest and kicked out hard enough to send him flying back into the bookshelf. She drove her head back and her captor yelled in pain and dropped her to her feet but kept his arms around her. Leontyne brought the heel of her foot down on his toes and elbowed him in the stomach. She broke his hold, grabbed his arm and flipped him over her shoulder. She punched him in the throat, envisioning her fist hitting the old, black hardwood floors.

The attacker at her back was up and advancing with a war cry filling the small room. Leontyne sprung up from the man on the floor, took a step from the gurgling man and swept the charging man's feet from beneath him. He landed hard, sending a puff of dust into the air so thick she could make it out even in the dark interior of the room. Footfalls on the stairs stopped her advanced. Two against one was doable but any more than that and she was going to be in trouble...again. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder, the other guy was still holding his throat but the gurgling had stopped and he was making his way to his feet. She picked up the first weapon her hands landed on: a large, ornate candle-stick. The weight was good, it felt good in her hand.

Both men in the room advanced. She swung her body around while bringing her elbow up, hitting one in the face, she ducked beneath his swinging arm coming up behind him. She brought her foot down hard, snapping his knee. One down one more to kill. She swung the candlestick around, like she was winding up to pitch a softball catching the second man under the chin. His head flew back, blood spraying from his mouth. With both hands gripping her weapon she Jackie Robinson'd his ass, breaking his jaw. Still it wasn't enough. The next strike destroyed an eye, once more and she cracked his skull. She raised the candlestick again and again, beating his head until nothing was left but a pulverized mess.

The doorway filled with a third person, pausing for just a second before he came at her in a mad rush. As if she wasn't beating his partner to death with a damn candlestick and the other lay on the floor moaning like a little bitch. She brought the candlestick up and hit him square in the face with the large square bottom. He stumbled back, tripping on his down partner's broken leg, giving her the opening she needed. She picked up the chair and threw it. She didn't worry about her state of undress or the shards of glass still hanging around the frame like jagged teeth. She ran.

The house had been abandoned but the street in front was packed. The crowd so thick she ran into the backs of people standing watching a parade go by. All were drunker than Cooter Brown. Her escape didn't raise alarm, some people even cheered. It was Mardi Gras. Stranger shit than a half-naked woman breaking a door was going on all over the city.

Leontyne knew exactly where she was the moment she looked out the window. She ran a block over and cut through a narrow opening too thin to be called an alley. She jumped a low wrought iron fence and crossed a back yard with a small dog yipping at her heels. Out of the gate on the other end, she ran into a different parade and chanced a glance over her shoulder while pushing her way through the crowd, ignoring the groping hands that pulled at her shirt and grabbed her ass as she passed. As she neared her destination she slowed to a brisk walk, her head on a swivel as she scanned the area for anyone looking for her. The further away she got from the main streets the lighter the foot traffic became until she was no longer passing tourist and party-goers but residents of the city.

The gate let out its familiar squeal as she pushed it open. She entered the six digit code to unlock the door and deactivated the countdown on the alarm and re-armed it in stay mode. She took a moment to take in the empty home of her best friend. Thank God Selene had already left for work. She didn't have it in her to come up with a plausible story to explain her appearance. The clock on the wall read nine thirty-five. The time put her feet back in motion. She opened the door to the room Selene kept just for her. The carry on case sat at the end of the bed on a bench. She unzipped the side pocket and pulled out the back-up phone. She located the last number on earth she wanted to call and pressed the green circle without hesitation. The call answered but no words were spoken. For the first time since she woke up her throat got tight.

Daddy." It was the first word she'd spoken since waking up in the old house. She wasn't a crier, there was no crying in the Deveaux house.

"One hour."

The line went dead.

Her father was not a talker, rarely said more than what it took to get his point across. That he was an hour out meant he had been on his way while she was still in the house. She went to the window and pulled back the curtains just enough to allow a peek. Nothing and no one stood out as a suspect so she dropped the curtain and went to the gun safe. She pulled the Glock G17 and clip from the safe, made sure there was a bullet in the chamber and the safety was off before heading for the bathroom. One hour gave her enough time for a quick shower.

The cheery yellow and white paint and décor couldn't lift the darkness of what happened. Leontyne's reflection was one she didn't recognize. Her hair a tangled mess, half her clothes missing and the other half torn and dirty. She turned on the shower and sat on the toilet as the water heated. She'd jumped out of the broken door at an angle hoping to miss the glass but at least one piece was stuck in her heel. She pulled the shard out, throwing it in the sink before pulling her ruined shirt off. It went in the trash can along with her ripped panties. Hot water that demanded time she didn't have was heaven on her skin. She lathered up the loofah and scrubbed her body hard enough that the muscles in her toned arms stood out. She washed her hair the same. Too soon she was standing back in her bedroom wrapped in a towel. She pulled jeans and a shirt from the closet and grabbed her workout sneakers. The pains of her assault were fading, while those of the battle had her arms and legs sore. She embraced each, allowed them to comfort her. She left Selene a note promising to call later.

Leontyne pulled the hat low on her head and rushed from the gated area of the courtyard and bumped into a wall of flesh. Solid, unmovable. Her first instinct was to pull the gun and start blasting, when strong hands caught her shoulders. Hands so warm, so hot, she could feel it through the fabric of the shirtsleeves. She looked up—and up some more. He had to be the tallest goddamn man she'd ever seen in her life, and the biggest. Leontyne rarely had to bend her neck to look at a man. When the giant's hands released her forearms she remained rooted to the spot. The man was older, she guessed forty, or a very well preserved fifty. Dark hair that made her think of rich earth fell in waves around a large square face, a full beard covered his jaw, thick eyebrows shadowed his small eyes and between the three his face was almost hidden.

"Excuse me," she said, her hand moving to her middle, closer to the weapon there. He wasn't a threat—to her, but he was plenty dangerous. She knew danger when she saw it. She'd been raised to.

"Careful," he said. His voice was low, not a whisper, but deep and powerful, rough, like the man.

She stood a second longer, the heat from his body covering hers before her feet finally moved. She slid into the waiting cab with her hand still on the gun. She turned and looked out the rear window. The man was still standing where she'd left him looking right at her. He didn't match the neighborhood. It was filled with young up and comer's, college students and newly married couples mostly. It was possible he was someone's dad or uncle but she was almost positive that wasn't the case. It wasn't just the Berluti oxfords and bespoke tailored suit, the single word he'd spoken was slightly accented. There were thousands of tourist in town but he wasn't that either. No, he didn't fit. She turned around with the weight of his stare on the back of her head. She'd been looking for someone that stood out and ran right into him. But he hadn't done anything to suggest he was part of what happened to her so she put the mysterious, well dressed stranger in the mental catalog of all the things that she might need to help her track down her kidnappers and focused on the more important matter of her father's arrival.

The first seventeen years of her life she'd been followed by a bodyguard even at school. Her senior year she insisted she didn't need one. Her father agreed, but nothing was ever that easy with Henri Deveaux. She could be free of her bodyguard only if she could give him the slip. Leontyne had done him one better. She'd killed the man. It saved her dad the trouble of doing it himself. What did it say that she'd killed a man at seventeen? The better question was, what did it say that when she'd gone over how best to ensure she got her way the best plan, the only option really, was to take a person's life? She'd done it without batting an eye, no hesitation, no remorse, only shocked at her lack of feeling. He could have been someone's father, someone's husband. He was certainly someone's son. What if his parents loved him as much as her own father loved her? But in the end a different logic put things in perspective. His job was dangerous. He should have been better trained. If the person you're protecting can take you out what chance did he have with an outside threat? The more she thought about it the better she'd felt. After that day she was followed discreetly. Her father would surely kill the man he'd sent to protect her and after what she'd suffered she wouldn't oppose. She had to have a serious discussion with Kyle about the quality of security. She'd single handedly killed two of her attackers in hand to hand combat. Where the hell had Kyle found the light-weight?

She stepped out of the cab as the jet came to a stop on the private air strip. Her one word had started a ball rolling she didn't know if she could stop. Not the killing, no, she wanted the killing, but as her father crossed the tarmac she could see in each step that he meant to take her home. Wasn't happening. Not until she cut the balls off the motherfuckers that took her. Her memory lapse was temporary, she would know. She had every intention of asking her kidnappers if it didn't come back on its own.

She stood at the back of the chauffeured car, next to the driver who opened the door as her father neared. Her dad traveled with muscle but she always thought they were more fodder than anything else. There were no hugs or kisses, no tear filled reunion. He didn't even speak. Leontyne followed next catching Kyle's shaking head as she ducked inside the dark interior and slid across the seat. She was forced to keep on sliding when Kyle pushed his way in. The car started before the door was completely closed. Her father sat next to her too quiet and too still.

Kyle pulled out a tablet and tapped on the screen before handing it to her. She had to admit the joint had great security. The tiny screen was divided into four tinier screens. The video was in HD and color. The only thing missing was sound. Selena was in the dynamite red dress, Leontyne was in a white tuxedo shirt and wide-legged black pants. They were happy, laughing and swaying to music she could almost hear. Leontyne leaned close to Selene and left the table, probably going to the bathroom. A man approached Selena as soon as Leontyne was out of the frame. He'd obviously been waiting. Her best friend, endless flirt that she was, turned her back to the table. Leontyne would have never done such a thing, but Selene was completely enthralled with the man in front of her. She missed the second man, the one pouring something in Leontyne's drink. He stirred the drink with the cocktail straw before backing away and turning to the bar. The man Selene was speaking with finally took the last step to the table and when Leontyne returned they both were facing the drinks.

The man who drugged her drink approached and the four started having a conversation that had to have been a lot of fun because a lot of time was spent laughing. Leontyne threw her head back, swallowing the whole drink. It didn't take long for the drugs to take effect. The first man lured Selene away, in the direction of the dance floor. Leontyne body weaved and, she leaned heavily on the table, her arms stiff as she stopped herself from falling. The man left behind put his arms around her shoulders and she tried to pull away. He pulled her tighter into his side and walked her off in the direction of the door. The picture jumped and the vantage point of a second camera picked up their movement through the club until the exterior camera mounted outside captured her being carried. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the tablet. The one carrying her was one of her rapist, one of the men she'd killed earlier. He put her in a car waiting at the curb. The picture cut to black and she looked at her reflection in the screen.

"Your house has been secured, nothing on the cameras." Kyle took the tablet from her. "What happened?"

Leontyne turned to Kyle. "What happened? What happened is the asshole who was supposed to be watching my back dropped the ball. Where the hell is he in the goddamn video," she asked, her voice raising with each word. He didn't have to worry about her father, she'd kill him herself. If the son of bitch wasn't already dead. He'd better already be dead.

"Gone. Video surveillance shows him leaving right before your drink was spiked, heading towards the bathroom, but he never came back. There's a back entrance at the end of the hall. We're looking for him now."

"So he was involved," she asked. "What the fuck, Kyle?"

"Kyle leaned right up in her face. "If you think for one second you're going to pin this shit on me, you're wrong, sweetheart. If your ass wasn't so fucking adamant you could take care of yourself you would have had a full detail."

"You're head of security. You vet every man hired. So yes, Kyle, this is your fault."

Kyle's lip raised from his teeth in a snarl and the sound escaping him was nothing she'd ever heard come from a human. So big his shoulders blocked out the window behind him, she trusted Kyle with her life. He was her father's head of security and personal guard. He was also right. She'd fought hard for her freedom, bucking her father's suggestion of having a personal bodyguard herself. Each time she gave a guard the slip the man was replaced. She'd lost count on how many she'd gone through as her father and Kyle tried to find someone who could keep her ass in his sights.

It hadn't been Kyle's fault. It'd been her own. She'd said it a thousand times since her seventeenth birthday. She could take care of herself. She'd fought three men, killed two and survived, but if she'd had a Kyle of her own none of it would have ever happened. There was no way Kyle would have left her father exposed. He wasn't her father's shadow—that came and went, he was a second skin. But it wasn't just her father Kyle cared about. He wasn't just angry and mad _at_ her he was angry and mad _for_ her and scared too. Scared of the things that could have happened, that had happened.

The entire time her father never said a word. She sat back in her seat. Kyle looked at her a second longer before doing the same. Her father was inanimate, his breathing so slow she couldn't see the rise and fall of his chest. Leontyne couldn't remember a time when she feared him but she was scared now. She had a feeling he was a hairsbreadth away from bombing the fucking city. Silence was never a good thing when it came to her father. It meant he was too angry to speak, not afraid of his words, but of his actions. He'd never treated her that way.

"I woke up in an abandoned house."

The words turned her father's head. She gave the address but didn't bring up the details of her escape. Not in the tiny space the back of the limo offered. If she wasn't made of strong stuff she would have shrunk into her seat, quite possibly tried to get out the car. Rage radiated from her father's body like heat from asphalt on a summer's day. He didn't speak, just looked at her; weighed her words, rode the fury until he could rein it in.

They didn't drive to her home in the French Quarters, they went to his house outside the busy streets of New Orleans. The house had once belonged to his mother, whose ancestors had worked as slaves. It sat on the original property but nothing was planted now. The house wasn't as big as some of the neighboring plantations but was still impressive in size. The only furnishing that changed was her bedrooms, and even that had been returned to the original when she moved out. She followed her dad to his office and waited. The two of them looked at each other—waited for the other to fold. It was a battle of wills, one her father seldom lost, and only ever to her. Everything else pretty much went according to his will. She was his only weakness. She knew because he'd told her. It wasn't a bad thing, quite the opposite. His love made him stronger and deadlier. The silence continued until there was a light knock on the door and one of the guards walked in and stood just behind her chair.

"Nothing in the house but a couple of kids and some blood in the front room where a door has been broken."

Her dad nodded, dismissing the man. She waited for him to make the decision, sure he would force her to leave. It didn't mean she wouldn't try to convince him to let her stay, or that she wouldn't get what she wanted. It just meant her vengeance would be that much harder to come by. This wasn't business, this was personal.

"It wasn't a matter of _if_ , but when," he finally said.

She didn't speak. It wasn't time. He took a breath. Mastering the control that made him so feared among his peers, he was the quiet storm, worse than a hurricane or tornado. He was a fucking tsunami.

"Do you have any idea what this is like for me, Leontyne?"

"No," she said in a low voice. "But this isn't about you."

He nodded, just once. She knew it wasn't agreement. "Where you're concerned, everything's about me."

She knew better than to argue. "I only meant I want to take care of this, Daddy."

He took a deep breath, crossed his legs at the knee, put his hands in his lap. He tilted his head to the side and inspected her. His little girl—his baby—his life and world.

"Selene."

The dread she'd felt in the car multiplied tenfold.

"No," she said, panic nearly choking her. Selene had been left at the table to watch over their things and done a piss-poor job but someone slipping drugs in a drink was something you saw in the movies or on television not in the real world.

"Leontyne," her father said. His low volume and deadly calm had her heart in her throat. No way would she let anything happen to Selene. The two had been best friends for most of her life.

"No."

She wanted to add it could have happened to anyone and it could, but that wasn't true. It never would have happened to her. She never would have turned her back on their drinks, wouldn't have let a man distract her but Selene didn't have her training, hadn't been raised by a paranoid father who thought there was clear and present danger lurking in every shadow.

He sighed, gave her the look. The one that said he'd play along...for a little while. "One week," he said, "And then it is about me...all me."

Excited like a sixteen year old with a new car on her birthday. She rounded the desk that separated them and climbed into his lap. Sitting in his lap was like sitting on a statue. It was one of the strange things that made her love him. He never initiated touch, never a hug or kiss was ever offered. As if he was afraid to allow himself to love her, but he never tried to stop her when she needed physical contact with him. He was mad—at her and himself and he was never more dangerous as when he was upset. Yet, he allowed her this small comfort.

"Thank you, Daddy."

She wasn't just thanking him for allowing her to stay, find the men who took her and kill them, it was for Selene too. She kissed his hard jaw and left him alone so he could start making the calls to find the people responsible. She wanted to go home but she knew better than to make any demands—yet.

"You're going to be the death of me," Kyle said, falling in step beside her.

Kyle was her father's left hand only because she was his right. She was young, Henri's little girl, but she would one day be handed the keys to the kingdom, not Kyle. He was eighteen years older but she'd always felt like they'd grown up together. Maybe because Kyle had been found shortly before she had been dropped off. He had been many things over the years: a brother, a priest, even a lover, but Leontyne saw him as an extension of her father. Not a father figure, but certainly the man she'd have at her side when she took over. If she took over.

She was only twenty, was a skilled killer, ruthless, emotionless when the situation called for it but she'd been raised like a princess and lately she'd thought about wanting a prince. Maybe a little prince or princess of her own. Could she bring a man into this life—or child? She knew the circumstances of her birth, her father never lied to her or withheld any information. She knew she had not been wanted, and that knowledge didn't hurt because it wasn't her specifically it was a child period. He may have never wanted children but he'd been nothing but the best father a girl could ever have.

"I'll try to keep that in mind the next time I'm being drugged and raped."

Kyle was harder than any man employed by her father, but the look that crossed his face made her regret saying the awful words. Her father had not asked and she'd not offered the information. Now she knew why. Kyle looked sick before his entire face tightened until she thought the top of his head would explode. He grabbed her arm, squeezing until blood circulation was cut off. He dragged her into her bedroom and closed the door, the soft click sealing them in her private space. He crowded her, pushing her against the wall, breathing heavy. He looked wild, ready to kill. Maybe even her. Since it was ultimately her responsibility to keep herself safe when she went somewhere without guards. He took a deep breath and it fanned across her face when he released it. He always smelled like peppermint.

"Have you seen a doctor?" He asked, his lips tight, hardly moving, his words low, almost a growl.

She shook her head because her throat was tight with tears. She'd been drugged, kidnapped, and violated. She couldn't allow herself to believe that her attackers would have used condoms. For all she knew she could be pregnant. She needed a doctor, needed the morning after pill.

"Are you hurt?" He asked backing away, his hands at his sides in hard fists, his entire body rigid. He was holding himself tight to stop himself from hitting shit. She understood.

"No."

"I'll get someone over," he said looking at her. They were the same height. Leontyne didn't lower her gaze as the single tear escaped the corner of her eye. Kyle took the step that brought him back within inches of her and raised his hand. He wiped the tear away.

"You cry if you want, Lee. You know I won't think any less of you. You're the meanest motherfucker I know."

She laughed, a short bark of a sound that broke open the gates that had held the tears back .She saw the love he had for her in his face so raw, so passionate. He would kill for her, would give his life for hers, it had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with loyalty and family. They looked out for each other. She stepped into arms that had held her only a handful of times. It felt right, better still, it felt _alright_. One hand rubbed her hair, the other her back while she cried. She refuse to give the silent tears more sustenance with sound, not when it felt like they'd already consumed too much of her. There were no comforting words, just a connection between two people that understood the life. She'd been to battle, had escaped but not unscathed. After long moments Kyle gently pried her from him, lifted her head and thumbed away the tears on her cheeks.

I killed the men who raped me," she said, her voice still raw with emotions. She slowly reigned them in. The time for crying was over.

The corner of Kyle's lips turned up. "That's my girl," he said, his voice full with pride, but his eyes were full of concern. He lowered his head and kissed her on the nose. "I'll make a call."

"Daddy—" she said.

She didn't want him to know because he'd kill the kidnappers without hesitation, possibly before they found out why she was taken in the first place and send her away for sure.

"Don't worry about him. Let me take care of you."

Leontyne met Kyle's stormy gaze. He obeyed Henri's every instruction without question, without fail. He would tell her father if he asked outright. Here's hoping he didn't. She had a feeling she was going to be stuck with her father a few days and she didn't want to chance being pregnant. The thought made her stomach turn, not to mention disease. She felt weak at the thought.

"Alright."

Once they had been lovers. Her father had sent him in to teach her a lesson on being drunk. Kyle lost the battle, later he told her he'd allowed it. He'd whispered these words in her skin, with her front pressed against the wall, her hands held captive over her head while he fucked her from behind. The affair hadn't lasted. She had been eighteen and he thirty-six. Her father's trusted only confidant. Neither thought her father would disapprove but they weren't willing to bet Kyle's life on it either if things ended badly.

His gaze swept her from head to toe before he opened the door leaving her alone to wonder if they'd made a mistake in ending things. Now that she was certain she wanted a life that included a husband and children Kyle seemed logical. He could take care of himself, could take care of her, and knew her father's business as well as she did. He could rule by her side and not be a liability, not a spouse hidden away in a gilded cage, protected from what her life offered. But she didn't want logical. She wanted love and while Kyle loved her, perhaps even loved- _loved_ her, she didn't love him that way.

She went to the king size bed and laid down. Behind her lids the video played. It hadn't jogged her memory, simply replaced the missing pieces. She was going to have to talk to Selene.

God...Selene. Her father wanted to punish her for failing him, but Selene didn't know everything and therefore could not be held accountable. She wasn't one of her father's trained lap-dogs and if he ever hurt her Leontyne wasn't sure she'd ever forgive him. She reached for the phone and dialed her best friend's number, needing to hear the sound of her voice. She'd told her father no and later she'd push for a promise that he will never touch Selene.

Chapter Three

"You're going to be the death of me," Selene said before Leontyne could get a word in.

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?"

"I'm coming over."

"No, not yet," she said.

Her father would get on board with not hurting Selene. He'd better. To be sure she was going to give him a few hours to chew it over. Kyle was going to find a doctor who made house calls and she didn't feel like explaining, or lying. Things were going to get rough before they got better. Tracking and killing the person or persons that kidnapped her was something she didn't need Selene in the middle of. Her father had made it clear from the beginning that anyone deemed a threat would be taken care of. She knew what he meant. There weren't many secrets between the two but Leontyne had never been crazy enough to tell her friend everything. Not even when they were little girls and pricked their fingers and became blood-sisters. Oh, Selene suspected Leontyne's father of being into something illegal but she never asked.

"Are you ready to tell me what the fuck happened?" She asked in her normal speaking voice, a decibel below a yell. No matter what she said it always seemed like she was fussing at you.

"I turned my back for one goddamn second and you disappeared. You didn't answer your phone and all I could think about was your father."

The two had been thick as thieves since they first met and Henri had been nothing but courteous to her but he still frightened her. Smart girl.

"God—he's going to kill me."

"No one's killing you," Leontyne said, sitting up, uncomfortable with her friend's wording.

"Is he making you leave?" Selene asked.

The first ten years of her life she and her father had lived in his hometown before moving to New York. By then she and Selene were best friends. Leontyne came back every summer and for every holiday. The phone bills were astronomical. They were no longer children but when they got together it was no different from when there were ten.

"No."

A soft rap at the door drew her attention away from the conversation. Kyle stuck his head in the door. "The doctor will be here in twenty," Kyle whispered.

"Thank you," she mouthed. He nodded and closed the door.

"Are you still going to school here?"

"I think so," she answered truthfully. "Why don't you come over around six? We can dress together."

"You're still going?" Selene asked, her voice full of wonder.

_Was she still going?_ Were grits groceries? Hell yeah she was still going. She'd only been trying to get into the house for as long as she could remember. It was one of the reasons she loved the old city. The buildings, the history, the house she lived in she called _the big house_ but the old plantation she had every intentions of going into tonight was the crème de la crème of mansions. She would never forget the first time she stumbled upon it. Not dilapidated or in disrepair but the yard was shoulder-high grass and weeds. The twin weeping willows at the end of the long drive, bookended the circular one in front of the massive estate. Large round columns, wrap-around porch and balcony with twin doors on the second floor, the house was a step back in time. She'd asked her father to buy it but the owner had said no. She'd visited it every time she was in town. She couldn't explain why she was so in love with the antebellum but she was and she'd been invited to the ball taking place in the house.

"Oh, yeah, and so are you?"

"What about the body guards?"

Leontyne smiled. Selene knew Henri better than he'd like. He would allow her to live her life, even when she was ass deep in alligators but he would also damn well make sure she had backup and the chances of her making it out of the house without full protection was zilch.

"I'll figure something out," she answered. "Would you be a doll and go to my house and pick up the two bags hanging in my closest?"

"You didn't." In Selene's whispered words Leontyne could almost see the look on her friend's face and she smiled for the first time since the day began. Her friend had been raised middle-class. Both her parents worked, they owned their house, and they had just enough to make sure their only child didn't want for much and needed nothing. Leontyne made up for the rest. Selene was spoiled. She had two Christmases, had the best clothes because Leontyne bought her anything she wanted. Had even offered a pearl white Range Rover when Leontyne got one on her sixteenth birthday, but the girl's parents had drawn the line on that one. Selene never expected anything and was always so happy when Leontyne bought her gifts.

"I did, and don't peek. Grab the bags and come over. We can get dressed together." A light tap on the door announced the arrival of the doctor. "I'll see you at six," she said and hung up on Selene's excited squealing.

Her father had a doctor on call in every city he lived in. The woman entering the room looked only a few years older than her. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and flats, her hair was pulled up in a high and tight ponytail. Kyle shut the door behind them.

"I'm Amanda, Kyle told me you needed medical attention. First, I'd like to say you should go to the hospital and report this to the police," the barely-out-of-medical-school-and-probably-still-in-her-internship woman said.

Leontyne raised her eyebrow and looked at Kyle. He shrugged. She turned back to the woman. "Thank you for your concern but I'd rather handle this quietly."

"Don't you want the man who did this to you caught?"

"Amanda..."Kyle said. Neither woman missed the warning.

"Fine," she said shrugging a large purse off her shoulder. "Would you like him to step out of the room while I exam you?"

"Even if I did he wouldn't so, no...I'm fine."

"Remove your pants and underwear and lie down, please." She looked between Leontyne and Kyle as if the words were going to change anything. And then just at Kyle. He huffed out a breath and turned his back. Leontyne removed the clothes and laid down, placing her feet on the edge of the bed. The good doctor grabbed the chair sitting in the corner and placed the throw that was on the arm across her bare lower half. "You owe me," she said to Kyle sitting down.

Kyle glanced over his shoulder. "I'll make it up in spades."

Leontyne looked at the ceiling as the doctor did the exam and pictured the face of the men she'd killed and the sounds. The feel of the man's neck that she snapped and how the skull of the other one felt when the candlestick cracked it like an egg.

"Okay," she finally announced, "You can sit up now." The woman rummaged in her purse while Leontyne got dressed and handed her pill just as she finished pulling her shirt down.

"Thank you," Leontyne said taking the glass of water Kyle fetched for her.

"You know you're not responsible. No matter how drunk you were, or how far he'd gotten. It may sound corny to your generation but no really does mean no."

Her generation? Unless this woman had found the fountain of young she couldn't be more than five years older than Leontyne. "I'd just prefer not to. Thank you again."

The woman gave her one last once over before picking up the purse. "I'll call Kyle tomorrow with result of the STD panel. The pill works as long as you weren't already pregnant and it's been within seventy-two hours of the attack."

### **-**

Selene arrived in her usual whirlwind way. Her best friend threw the bedroom door open with a guard trailing behind her carrying two garment bags and a suitcase. She grabbed Leontyne in a hard hug while the bodyguard placed the bags in the closet. The two sat on a chaste lounge at the foot of the bed and held hands, neither speaking until the guard left the room. The door hadn't finished clicking close when Selene smile all but fell from her face.

"Now, are you going to tell me what happened?

After fifteen years the girl knew Leontyne. The rules Henri set had been made early and never broken. Selene knew the drill. Besides, they both made a promise never to leave with an unknown without the other getting pertinent information. Name, address and license plate number. In the event someone hooked up with a serial killer. She wasn't going to tell her everything but she wasn't going to lie. Entirely.

"What do you remember about last night?" She asked, instead of answering the question.

Selene's eyes widen and her mouth dropped open, but she was quick to regain her composure. She crossed her arms and leaned back. "How far do I need to go back?"

"I remember leaving your apartment."

Selene frowned, looked at Leontyne for long moments but answered, "We arrived at Twist and were seated at our regular table. We danced, and partied, you flirted like always. You took a bathroom break about an hour in that's when Anton came over."

"Who was the other, his friend," Leontyne asked. Barely containing the eagerness to find out what they'd called themselves. She doubted if they'd given their real names but if she was lucky maybe they'd been using the aliases all over the city.

"Rhett," Selene said rolling her eyes. "You know, as in Butler." I mean really, who name's their kid Rhett."

Leontyne could care less, she was thinking about the video she'd seen, of Rhett helping her out of the club into the waiting car. "Had you seen them before last night?"

She was a socialite, insanely wealthy and anyone looking for the popular kids' table wanted to be a part of her circle. Hell, her debutante date had been a prince and it was her party that had been the talk of the town after the formal ball.

Selene looked down and really thought. "No, I don't think so." She was speaking in a whisper, she lowered her voice more. "Is your dad still here? He must hate me."

"He doesn't hate you. This wasn't your fault."

And that was true. He may have been thinking about killing her but Henri didn't hate her. Emotions rarely played into his decision to end a person's life. Logic ruled supreme. Threats were eliminated. Period.

"I'm supposed to have your back when we go out; we're supposed to have each other's back when we go out. When you disappeared I knew something was up. You've hooked up with people before, but you always let me know when you're leaving and you never stay out all night."

If she only knew. Her father had allowed a certain amount of "freedom" but it came with a price. She was to call him every hour when she was out to let him know she was alright. She got a break if she "hooked up" but even then it was every two hours. She'd never met anyone who held her attention longer so it was a rule that she'd lived by.

"You did have my back. This is not your fault," she repeated, grabbing her friend's hand. "They knew what they were doing. Neither of us expected me to be drugged."

"Oh, God," Selene said squeezing her hand so tight that Leontyne lost feeling in her fingers. "I'm so sorry Lee."

"Don't," she said. Leontyne thought she may be a sociopath, an emotionless machine that cared for nothing at all. Her friendship with Selene proved there was still humanity in her.

"I was so worried, I was about to call your father when you knocked on the door. The only reason I hadn't called earlier was because..." she shrugged, "you've been gone a long time, our calls are short now."

"You're still my best friend. I've just been busy getting ready to move back full-time. Planning all the fun we're going to have between classes. Nothing has changed except we're older. We're going to die together sitting on a porch watching our great-grand children playing in the front yard."

She wiped beneath her eyes. "Now I feel bad for not calling him earlier. But you know I'm terrified of your dad."

"I know, but he was already on his way. I check in with him pretty regularly," she said leaving it at that. Selene studied her before taking a deep breath. She probably had a million questions but she didn't ask one. Giving Leontyne a chance to say what she wanted to share. Instead she asked, "Will you do my hair?"

"Of course I will," Selene stood and went to the vanity that held perfume and hair accessories. "When I saw your dress—" she stopped, giving Leontyne a sly smile.

"I knew you'd look," she answered with a laugh.

"I couldn't help myself. I know how much you love that old house. I think I'm more excited to see your reaction once you're inside than about going to the party. Thanks for inviting me."

"Who else would I take," Leontyne asked, getting up from the chaste lounge and going to the stool in front of her vanity.

"You've got a point." Selene said before plunging her hands into Leontyne's mane. "I knew exactly what I wanted to do to it. You're going to look so beautiful, like you were a part of the house when it was brand new."

"I'm glad you tamed your mane," she added with a snort of laughter.

Leontyne's hair was...in a word...wild. It had a mind of its own. Damn near reaching her waist, it would have been an afro if it was two inches shorter. As it were, it was a cloak of untamed tight curls. She'd washed and blown it as straight as a blow dryer could once the doctor left. She sighed, her muscles relaxing for the first time since the sun came up as Selene went to work. The woman was self-taught but she trusted her way more than any fancy, high-end salon. She'd been experimenting and styling Leontyne's hair forever and never once let her down. Tonight was special. She was at last going to be on the inside of a house she'd obsessed about since she was thirteen. She was nervous. It didn't make sense, but it was true. Butterflies were in her stomach, her limbs felt heavy and her chest tight. Giddy...yeah, that was the word.

Selene's champagne colored silk brocade gown was period accurate. Leontyne had hired a Hollywood costume designer to make both their dresses. Her hair was a thousand individual twist held in place by a million hairpins to create an eloquent hairstyle accented by antique hair combs.

"Are you excited?" she asked checking her hair one last time before move to Leontyne to do the same.

Leontyne could hardly wait. It was like a kids' first visit to Disney. Except better.

"I almost feel ridiculous. It's only a house," she answered.

"But you've loved it forever."

Leontyne's meticulously coiffed hair had taken more hairpins and combs to pull it off. She had no clue how Selene had been able to get everything to stay in place without hairspray or other hair product but she'd insisted they stay accurate to the time.

"I have," Leontyne admitted, her voice all airy, like they were a couple of teenagers discussing her first crush and not a house. Not that Leontyne had ever been airy-breathed over a boy, regardless of age.

Leontyne took her mask from the tissue-paper lined box and held it in place while Selene tied the satin ribbon. Her gloves were the finishing touch. She placed a hand over the boned bodice of her dress and wondered if it was the corset of nerves that made it hard to breath.

As Leontyne walked through her father's childhood home she saw it threw new eyes. The house had been in his family since the land was French owned. Everything she'd found out about it and her father's family had been through research. There were family photos all over the house, of his mother, his grandfather his great grandparents but he never talked about any of them with Leontyne. She never gave it much thought, her father had always enough but as she approached the grand staircase she wondered about the lives of the people who'd lived there before her. Her hand landed on the bannister, old wood that had supported countless generations. Had her father ever slide down it? She laughed. Certainly not.

Kyle stood at the bottom of the staircase looking up at her. He was handsome, strong, loyal and the very definition of trustworthy. And he loved her. She saw it in his eyes. Maybe it wasn't a true love but it could be. Could she love him? Should she? He held out his hand and she took it when she reached the bottom step.

"You look lovely," he said, gazing into her eyes. "Beautiful."

"Thank you, Kyle."

He stared at her a few moments more before adding, "You're father wanted to see you before you left." He turned to Selene. "And you're a vision as well."

"Thank you." Selene said blushing at the compliment. Kyle held his other hand out and escorted them to her father's office. He opened the door and Leontyne entered alone.

Her father had taken off his jacket and tie. His white shirt so heavily starched it still looked freshly ironed. He stood in front of the portrait of his grandfather, Baptist Deveaux. Amber colored whiskey was in a low ball crystal glass sitting on the edge of his desk and soft music played in the background. When he turned to face her he went still and Leontyne found herself patting her hair and smoothing down the front of her dress. His eyes roamed her from head to foot before he went to the desk and picked up his drink.

"I'll be sending a full detail with you."

She'd expected nothing less and wasn't about to argue about it. She remained quiet. Waiting for the rest. He raised his glass and drained it. The ice tinkling against the glass and it twinkling from the lights.

"There's no reason to check in, security will do it—have a good time."

Leontyne couldn't help the full smile. He knew how much she loved the old house. She crossed the room and placed her arms on shoulders wide enough to land small planes on, impossibly hard, bunching beneath her palms. She was taller than he was so she had to bend down ever so slightly to kiss his cheek. He placed a hand on the small of her back. Hard serious eyes met hers. He nodded once and walked around his desk back to the bar, dismissing her. Yeah, her dad was a hard man but she'd had a lifetime to learn his special way of loving her. It was in the little things he did. She was probably going to have five men following her around until the day he died and that was okay with her.

Leontyne lowered the privacy glass in order to look out the front window as the car approached the house. Ancient oaks lined the gravel drive, their thick branches forming a canopy too thick to see through. Torches were lit on each side of the driveway leading to the house, peacocks roamed the grounds, every light was on and all the shutters were opened. Leontyne actually held her breath as she took it all in. It was exactly how she envisioned it when she first stumbled across the property when she was thirteen. She rolled down her window as the car pulled into the circular drive and resisted the urge to stick her head out the window.

The two story wood plantation home was built in eighteen fifty-three, its white paint was in stark contrast to the dark, giving the illusion it was the only thing around—in existence, but Leontyne knew there were also smaller buildings on the property. Twenty-eight columns circled a full wrap-a-porch that was deeper than the length of her bedroom. Gas lanterns on each of the massive columns flickered. Cast iron benches and chairs were station between each set of double doors on the front of the house. Large black containers stood on each side of the front door with conical pine trees trim to perfection in each. The doorman opened her door but she slid across and exited the car on the same side as Selene, too anxious to waste time walking around the back of the car. The rest of the world disappeared as she neared the first low step leading to the porch.

Everyone who knew her knew about this house. She'd hardly shut up about it when she found it. She'd even dragged her dad out to see it. Back then the woods surrounding the area had overrun the place, the drive was completely grown over, the weeds reaching her shoulders back then and her father's waist but he'd gone because she'd asked. She'd laughed at the sight of him in his suit, wading through all those weeds. He'd stood on the porch while she ran around excitedly trying to peek through windows she'd already done no fewer than three times before.

She was in another world as the door opened by a man wearing black and white livery. Selene handed him their invitation and she stepped back in time. Her head was on a swivel as she tried to look everywhere at once, walking around touching furnishing that could have been in the house when it was originally built, marveling at everything from the rugs beneath her feet to the trinkets sitting on end tables. She felt...comforted in the historic estate. She hoped the owner wouldn't be opposed to her going upstairs.

### Chapter Four

Furious had been uneasy all day. Unable to think about anything or anyone since the encounter that led to an accidental touch. On that branded him. The second the young woman collided with him nothing made sense and yet it was as if the world, his world, had come into balance, centering him, giving him peace he'd never known in his very long life. In the too few seconds they touched, he was calm. The feeling so foreign it taken a moment for him to move so he'd stood there staring at her through the window of the cab. The absence of the rage he'd been born with, the reprieve had been heaven and too short lived. The moment she was out of sight it had come slamming back into his body in a jolt that rocked him on his feet. He had every intention of finding her. It didn't matter how long it took or who she was.

He took in the scene unfolding in front of him wondering how Helena managed to convince him into throwing a party. The people's attire ranged from elegant to outrageous. Did it have something to do with age? Was he getting soft? Or was it something deeper, something that included a good woman and a couple of kids. Instantly the image of the woman he'd bumped into filled his mind's eyes. Until Helena entered the room. She certainly knew how to turn a head.

At her side were two women covered only in body-paint. They were supposed to be peacocks and Helena held two thin gold chains attached to slim gold collars around their necks. As for the woman herself—she was covered—technically. The diaphanous fabric left nothing to the imagination. The spaghetti strapped creation was cut low in the front, the opening stopping at her waist. The back was none existence. The rest of the sheer fabric fell to her feet and a three foot train trailed behind her. The gold bands that she never took off encircled her ankles and wrists. There was no clasps and they couldn't come off. She'd added diamond bracelets that stopped just below her elbows. Skin the color of coal, Helena was stick thin and tall. An exotic beauty that made people stare even when she wore jeans and a t-shirt. Furious enjoyed the female form as much as the next man, but the continued gasps as a new person caught sight of Helena and her _pets_ was a sure sign she may have pushed the envelope a tad too far. The woman wasn't wearing underwear.

She headed straight for him.

"You are truly a sight to behold," he said kissing her offered hand.

"Be easy, my love. This will be the talk of the season." She'd obviously picked up on his mood.

"And I care, why?" he asked. He was only thirty minutes in and he was read to start throwing people out.

"Because I care," she said. He didn't miss the warning. He looked away as she took her place beside him, her pets sitting on small stools at her feet.

"Oh my."

The woman entering the room belonged. Belonged in the room, belonged in the house. Belonged to him. The ivory silk creation was adorned with ribbons and lace. Embroidered roses in the same color covered the gown completely. Lords knows how many petticoats were hidden beneath the skirt, it made the top of her slim body seem tiny. The color was flattering on her caramel skin, showcased in all its glory by the off shoulder top. Her hair was done in an elaborate style and within the large curls was a floral motif tiara.

"Easy boy," Helena whispered from his side.

Had he growled?

An ivory and gold mask with a large ostrich plum covered her face from forehead to nose. Her head swung from side to side as she took in every detail of the room and Furious was filled with a strange sense of pride. He left Helena side, people parting like the red sea. Entranced with her surrounding she walked right into him.

Again.

"Excuse me," she said, an apologetic smile on her lips for half a second. "You."

His hands were on the thin line of skin left exposed between the sleeve of her dress and the top of her gloves. Muscled biceps covered in the softest skin hardened beneath his hands.

"Me."

The sound of her voice was deep, almost rough, as if she drank and smoked heavily, but he smelled neither on her. It had been years since a woman had piqued his interest. The last was standing behind him. Time had passed, yet he couldn't think of a thing worth saying. He was content to just stand there, being in her presence, wrapped in her scent and being held captive in soulful brown eyes.

"Leontyne?"

Hearing her name broke the spell that kept them both bound. She took a step back and Furious dropped his hands. Helena stepped forward.

"Furious, darling."

Introductions were interrupted by the sound of the dinner gong. Helena gripped his forearm hard enough that his bones creaked. Dumbfounded by her presence he could do little more than nod as he passed the two women as he led the way to the dining room.

Massive twin chandeliers were dimmed to allow the candles to be the main lighting in the room. A pink moss rose design circled the gold-edged, wafer thin bone china. Deep cut crystal sparkled and sterling silver flatware shimmered. A dozen arrangements perfumed the air, but didn't hold a candle to the scent of the woman behind him. Honeysuckles in the evening, when its fragrance is most powerful. Helena walked beside him, silent as the grave.

She was mad.

Well, hell.

### **-**

"And here I thought your dad was the finest old man on the planet." Selene said, flopping back in the plush leather seats of the limo.

Their faces were flushed, their dresses stuck to their bodies, their hair wet at their napes and temples. Leontyne's feet hurt and she groaned in relief as she kicked off her shoes. She rubbed one aching foot while smiling at Selene as she went on and on about the mysterious Furious Payne and his wonderful house and party.

"I don't think he danced with anyone else," Selene said, sitting forward and pulling open the mini-fridge and grabbing two bottles of water.

"Furious—Furious Payne," Leontyne said. There was a beat of silence then they both fell back laughing.

Really, who named their kid Furious, not when their last name was Payne. His parents were either setting him up for failure or foresaw a future that included a lot of fist-fights. Not that he wasn't built to live up to the name. She was six-feet and had to look up at him.

"Soooo..." Selene was on the edge of her seat as if Leontyne was about to reveal the origin of life on earth instead of telling her whether or not she planned on seeing their host again.

A chill ran the length of her spine even as sweat beaded and ran down the same path when she thought about him. Furious Payne was the tallest man she'd ever met, reserved and quiet, yet she could feel his eyes on her throughout dinner and she'd just cleared the threshold into the ballroom when he appeared like an apparition and asked for a dance. He hadn't danced with anyone else, but they'd been strangely silent on the dance floor, looking into each other eyes, breathing in each other scents, and being in each other arms. She could still feel each exhale on her face. A silent communication had started the second he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into the cocoon of his embrace, pressing their bodies so close she worried their feet would tangle and they'd end up on the floor. As one song bled into the next it seemed as if the rest of the room—hell, the world—had disappeared. Leaving just the two of them, silent, but content in a room big enough to hold a hundred or more people and was filled to capacity. She didn't allow herself to worry about the tall black woman that had been at his side during dinner and who watched from the sidelines while they danced. She forgot about Selene and the armed guards her father sent. The night was as close to perfect as it could get.

"Well?" Selene asked, snapping Leontyne out of her thoughts.

"There is no well, he's..." Leontyne couldn't finish the sentence. Would she see him again? She'd bumped into him twice in one day. Maybe fate would put them together again. On the heels of wishful thinking she thought about the thing that had brought her father to her part of the world. She had business to take care of.

"Is it because of his age? I always thought you had a thing for older men." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"I don't have a thing for older men," Leontyne said.

"I recall a conversation about a very distinguished gentleman that looked a little like Sean Connery. Unless you meant circa James Bond, I think Sean Connery is old enough to be your grandfather."

Leontyne had never found another friend like Selene. She'd never looked. Even with thousands of miles and months at a time of not seeing each other. Leontyne couldn't remember a time when she didn't know what her father did. He had no friends save Kyle. There had never been poker night, or a night out on the town with the guys. There had never been anything but the two of them and Leontyne had let Selene in early. She was the only speck of normalcy in her life when she needed a break from her reality.

"Maybe you have a thing for beards."

"Maybe," Leontyne said throwing her empty water bottle at Selene.

The limo pulled up in front of Selene's house and the wait was longer than usual before someone opened it. They were sweeping the area for possible threats. The door opened and even at three in the morning the city was alive. The sounds of partying filling the space in the back of the limo.

"You're too good to me," Selene said leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Leontyne. "Thank you so much...for everything," she said hugging her tight, almost clinging to her.

She may have not asked for the entire story but she was affected by the events from the night before. Same as Leontyne's father and Kyle.

"Can I stay?" she asked.

"Yes," Selene answered immediately.

They released each other and one of the guards helped Selene from the car. Leontyne reached for her purse and called her father, her hand perched on the door frame.

"Speak."

The men employed by her father would have phoned him throughout the night. They would have called when they left the party and again when they rolled to a stop in front of Selene's house.

"I'm staying at Selene's."

The silence was long and thick. The call was more asking permission than telling. She waited for his answer. For the first time in ages he hesitated and she feared she'd be summoned home.

"I'll send replacements."

Leontyne let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and stepped into the cool early morning.

"We need pizza and a good bottle of wine," she said to the guard standing next to the car.

Selene jumped up and down and squealed. She was use to Henri's tyrannical rule and had thought the same thing as Leontyne. It wasn't like they weren't going to see each other on a daily basis come fall when school started.

She didn't wait for an answer and he certainly didn't ask where the hell he was supposed to get pizza and wine at three in the morning. He pulled out his phone.

The two walked arm and arm behind the vast expand of Joey's back through the courtyard. It didn't surprise her when he pulled a set of keys and opened the door, or when he deactivated the alarm. Selene's house system was the same that was installed in her own.

They went to their rooms, eager to get out of their dresses and excited about a girl's night in. She needed this. Her father undoubtedly knew this. She hoped he'd take this time to call up for some company of his own. She'd never seen him with a woman but he wasn't a damn monk. From what Kyle said his appetite was large and he seldom went long without feeding it even if she never saw it.

She opened the door to the bedroom while peeling the gloves down her arms. She was sitting on the edge of the bed in her underwear when Selene came in similarly dressed.

"Oh...my...god," she mouthed, while holding out her cell phone. Leontyne's brow creased as she took the phone and held it to her face.

"Leontyne."

It was like the last strum of a bass. The end syllable just long enough to vibrate her bones. Selene eased out of the room with an arched eyebrow and a devilish grin.

### Chapter Five

He'd thought of nothing else since she left. Not the success of the party, not the handful of people that refused to leave his fucking house. Not even Helena who'd been disturbingly quiet for most of the night. They were lovers not a couple, but that didn't mean the woman hadn't staked a claim. It had been years since they fought and he'd like to keep it that way. In the time they'd been together not a lot of women caught his eye. How could they when one of the most beautiful women in the world lived in his house.

"Are you alone?" He was a taken aback at the lower octave. His voice was damn near a growl. There was something in the statuesque beauty that brought out the animal in him.

Helena had mailed the invitations. Over four hundred had been invited to the ball but only fifty to dinner. In the short time since she'd left his home he'd done some research on Miss Leontyne Deveaux and probably knew more than the best friend, Selene Fossier, and definitely more than any of the people she would attend classes with in the fall at the local university. Her father was a very powerful man—dangerous too. It was something to be worried about. His size didn't make him stupid.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"How did you get this number?"

His quick investigation into her background had been a paid service from a man who had government connections, he'd acquired Selene's phone number quite simply by asking the young man that had all but drooled on the woman all night. She was an attractive woman and the young man in question had paid little attention to anyone else at the ball. He knew how the man felt.

"Are you available for lunch tomorrow?" he asked instead of answering her question, at least for now.

"Excuse me?" she said.

"Are you available for lunch tomorrow?" he repeated, sitting back in his chair, picking up the glass of whiskey and taking a sip.

She remained silent long enough that one might have thought she'd hung up but he could hear her breathing. He had patience in spades, and was prepared to hold the phone for as long as it took. He was not going to take no for an answer. In addition to Ms. Fossier's phone number he also had her address. It wasn't above him to go to her house. The guards would be a problem but nothing he couldn't handle. Of course, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Yes," she finally answered. He relaxed his grip on the phone and on the glass. It was a wonder both hadn't shattered.

"I'll pick you up at eleven thirty," he said.

"Alright."

He hung up because the sound of her voice was a siren's song.

He'd known the minute Helena stepped into the room. She'd been there most of the short conversation. His shoulders tensed, his body automatically going into defense mode. Helena wasn't above attacking from behind. He never tried to fool himself into believing it was his strength that won the fights they'd had. No, Helena allowed him to win.

"I've never seen you so taken with a woman."

"She's...special," he said, standing.

Helena moved faster than a fucking viper when she wanted. He turned and his body stiffened for a different reason. She was naked. There was nothing seductive in her being undressed. She stood with her arms hanging down at her sides. She could have been dressed in slacks and a blouse. The silence was filled with tension, his body ready to fight but wanting to fuck. His dark lover could bring him one or the other. He was one of the strongest men in the world but Helena was...more.

His eyes tried to drink in all her beauty at once, darting from place to place on her body as she walked towards him. She was like a lioness going in for the kill. When she stood before him she took the glass and sat it down on the table. She fingered his hair behind his shoulder.

"Special, she repeated.

A whispered word that wouldn't have been heard if not for his superior hearing. She ran her hands down the front of his shirt, her nails growing as she did until they cut through the starched white fabric and then through the skin beneath it. He stood silently as crimson blossomed around the tattered edges of the shirt. She raised her face to him, bringing a fingertip to her lips, her tongue emerging from between her lips and taking a slow lick, cleaning her red-tipped finger, swirling around the long pointed nail. Already the three inch gouges she'd left in his skin were healed.

"Come," she said pulling him along by the waistband of his pants. Not out of the room, but to the large desk. His thoughts were on a lovely young woman, but his body belonged to Helena in the moment. He didn't go begrudgingly. He'd been a ball of sexual tension since he touched Leontyne earlier in the day, and now that he was going to see her tomorrow. Alone. Finding release in Helena was a good thing.

### **-**

Leontyne felt like shit for exactly thirteen seconds. That's how long it took to remember the reason why an alarm was going off two hours after her head hit the pillow. She'd told the guard stationed outside her door, Joey, she had a lunch appointment. Now she just had to tell her dad. She placed the call weighing the consequences of disobeying him. Again. Furious wasn't a threat, but what was she basing that on? When he answered before the first full ring, she wondered if he'd slept. Then wondered if he'd slept since this all began.

"I'm going out today. A lunch date," she said before he could get a word out.

When he didn't say anything, simply hung up the phone she knew he wasn't happy, but at least he hadn't told her she couldn't go. She rolled from bed headed for the shower. Her mind was all in on the lunch, she just had to convince her body. Not enough sleep, too much wine and a trauma, what she needed was a week in Cancun. Why had she even agreed to this date? It was literally the last thing she needed.

She opened Selene's door and tipped into the room. She was still asleep but Leontyne wanted to tell her she was leaving. This time was meant to be for the two of them; one last fun-filled summer before they started school. The original plan included a lot of late nights, endless bottles of alcohol and a few one-nightstands. Life had a way of throwing the most fucked up curve balls. Her party plans had been put on hold, she'd made an exception last night but she had a feeling the rest leading up to the first day of school were going to be filled with things a lot less fun. She had people to find...and kill. Not that she was going to be hitting the streets like Columbo, but she had every intention of being at every interrogation, being a part of every one, too. She felt guilty for leaving Selene to meet with a man she'd just met and probably wouldn't see again after today. But saying no hadn't crossed her mind. The tall, dark and dangerous man was intriguing to say the least. So what, she had a thing for older men, and in Furious she even saw her father. Daddy issues? Probably.

"Hey, you," she said sitting on the edge of Selene's bed and rubbing her shoulder.

"What time is it?" Selene sounded like she'd swallowed broken glass. She pulled the covers over her head.

"Early," Leontyne answered softly. "I just wanted you to know I'm leaving. I'm not sure if I'll be back."

"What, did your dad say you couldn't play with me anymore?" she asked pulling the covers back down.

Leontyne laughed. "No, I just have some business to take care of. I'm not sure how long it'll take. I'll call you later."

"You call me the second you're alone," Selena said.

"I don't kiss and tell."

"You kiss and tell plenty." Selene's sentence was punctuated with a yawn. "Later," she added, already half way back asleep.

The guard outside the door was tall enough and wide enough to block out the early morning sunlight. Leontyne recognized the man but didn't know his name. He'd been around for a while now.

"What's your name?"

"William, ma'am."

A lot of the guards were afraid of her after word got out how she'd proven she didn't need a full-time, around-the-clock detail. William didn't look afraid.

"Your ride arrived while you were in with Miss Fossier," he added.

"I need to grab my purse."

Leontyne picked up the cream clutch and went to her gun safe. The .38 special went in her purse, the Glock in her shoulder holster. She pulled the jacket to her suit on and leaned over to check her make-up. She didn't think Furious Payne had anything to do with what happened but she'd bumped into him twice in one day. She'd never been a fan of coincidences and just-in-case had become her new motto.

Furious great body unfolded from the back of the car when she was halfway across the courtyard. When she was little, like most girls, she adored her father, thought there was no man taller or stronger. There was nothing he couldn't do, he was her superman. As she got older, she learned he was more Lex Luther than Clark Kent. Furious gave her that same feeling. How could he not? Even in stiletto heels he was still almost a foot taller than her. And the width of him made up two of her, maybe two and half.

"You look lovely."

Leontyne picked the suit because it hid her, gun but the vibrant turquoise made it less business and more fun. She'd paired it with a dark orange blouse that her shoes mated. She loved color.

Boy, could the man wear a suit. Custom, because what store would sell his size? The charcoal grey, pinstripe laid on his body perfectly. The white shirt was new money crisp, gold cufflinks, and brown wing-tipped shoes—the man was fine.

She took the edge of his label between her fingers, running them up and down the wool lapel before laying her palms on his chest. Warmth from his body soaked into her palms as a strong heartbeat kicked beneath them. Strong and...solid. He placed a hand on top of hers.

The connection wasn't electric, no shock traveled her body, no chill ran down it, but it was intense. His hand was warm, almost hot, and hard but not rough; not the hands of someone who sat around giving orders, but he didn't swing an axe either. He brought her hand up to his lips, without moving his upper body and stared into hers as he kissed it. Leontyne rolled her palm and stroked the side of his face. She _was_ a sucker for a beard. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The moment lasted too long, was a little too intimate, but neither moved. The connection was real. Leontyne wouldn't deny it even as she was the first to break it.

"Shall we," he asked when she let her hand drop to her side.

She ducked into the dark interior of his car and wasn't surprised to see William sitting shot-gun in the front seat.

"Do you always travel so well armed?" Furious asked, once the car got moving.

Leontyne was surprised but didn't show it. "Not always," she answered turning in her seat so that her body faced her date.

"Should I be worried?" he asked.

She knew he was teasing and what did that say about him? Who teases a first date that came packed? Was he in the game too?

"I don't know. Should _you_ be?"

His small eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. He took a breath so deep the leather seat creaked.

"Are you going to hurt me," she asked. Her voice low, but it wasn't fear that softened it.

"Not if you don't want me to," he answered.

The low words skipped along her skin and vibrated her bones.

The car stopped and the driver and William jumped out like their asses were on fire. Armageddon could have been going on and she had to trust William was good enough to give her a second to get her shit together. She was trapped in Furious' gaze just as surely as if her body was tied with rope or chain. She couldn't move. His big body was next to hers bow tight and the look he was giving her wasn't anger but the emotion was just as strong. If she wanted.

"Shall we," he asked opening the door before she could answer.

Furious placed Leontyne's hand in the crook of his arm and surprised her by pulling her into a dive that sign boasted the city's best gumbo. The place was packed, a logistical nightmare for her team. Not enough room, too many witness if shit went sideways. The lined moved pretty fast considering the masses crowding the tiny space. When they were at the front of the line Furious addressed the man at the counter in Creole French. The man's demeanor changed the more Furious talked until finally a genuine smile surfaced. They slapped palms across the counter before Furious placed their order. Every table in the joint were taken but seconds after Furious ordered their food a little girl, who looked no more than eight or nine, escorted them to a door that opened into a narrow passageway and an even narrower set of stairs that required them to walk up in single file. The balcony wasn't fancy, just a wrought iron café set, some potted plants and a strand of naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling and along the bannister. A fan was in the corner for when the days were hot.

Furious pulled the tiny round-bottomed chair out for her before taking the seat opposite her. She wondered if it was going to survive their lunch.

"Do I need protection also?" he asked once they were seated.

The balcony was so tiny William might as well pulled up a chair.

"Why do I get the feeling that guns and bodyguards aren't your style," she said.

He laughed, the sound rich and thick. It made her smile. "Tell me, jealous lover, or jilted ex-boyfriend?"

"Neither," she said, the smile staying although no longer genuine.

The girl reappeared with a tray holding glasses, napkins and silverware. She was just a scrap of a thing, all elbows and knees, but pretty as you please. She was going to grow up to be quite a looker. Her hair was in dreadlocks that hung to the middle of her back. The t-shirt was clean but threadbare, jeans were a hair too short because she was probably growing faster than her parents could buy new clothes. She handled the tray like a seasoned pro.

"Mési," Furious said once everything was on the table.

She smiled brightly and rushed off. Even nine year olds weren't immune to him it seemed.

"What are you studying this fall at Xavier?"

She was shocked, but her face remained pleasant. "Classical Philology."

"Indeed," he said with a raised eye-brow.

"What?" she asked.

"You just didn't strike me as that kind of woman."

"And what kind is that?" she asked.

"A romantic."

She laughed. "Aren't all women romantics deep down?"

"No. I've met one or two that are definitely not."

"Like your roommate?" she said. She continued to smile but it was a serious question.

"Helena is a friend and definitely not a romantic," he said, sobering.

"And does this friend come with or without benefits," she asked.

"Benefits? Yes, there are benefits. Helena and I have a long and complicated history."

"How long have you been together?" Leontyne asked taking a sip of her water.

Furious leaned back in his chair. She waited on the thing to collapse. She even held her breath.

"Let's see..."he said, and looked away as he did the math. "Twenty-five years."

They'd been together longer than she'd been alive. She felt foolish. She hadn't been looking for anything long term, but she was looking forward to a date two. Twenty-five years. She almost pulled her weapon. Hell, they could be common law in some states.

### **-**

Furious watched Leontyne withdraw after hearing how long he and Helena were together. The dynamics of his relationship were more than complicated. He and Helena had made a life. One that he'd been happy with until recently now he wanted more, and not just the more that could have been fixed with proposing marriage to the obvious Helena. More as in children, which is why he didn't propose to the obvious Helena. She couldn't bear children.

Last night she showed him just how foolish he'd been. He'd failed to recognize that Helena felt like he was hers. The sex had been savage...brutal...war. Furious woke up feeling like he'd been flayed, mainly because he had. The sheets, walls and ceiling were covered in his blood. Thank god for fast healing. She was nowhere to be found and impossible to find when she wasn't _soft_. In her natural state she didn't carry a scent. In addition to not eating she also didn't have to breathe and had no heartbeat. She'd taken Furious blood for the party but all she had to do was cut her wrist, bleed out, and she was back to her natural stone state. So maybe all the blood in the room hadn't come from his body. He'd dressed prepared for confrontation, but Helena never showed. Now, he had lied for the first time in a century if he counted not telling his pack mates what he really was, or millennia if he didn't. Yes, there was confusion, but it wasn't Helena's. It had been his. But she wasn't a girlfriend and he wasn't a boyfriend. He was going to have the life he desired, and with any luck with the beautiful woman sitting across from him.

If he asked a question she answered with as fewest words possible and if he made a statement she remained silent. By the time they pulled up in front of her house he was actually glad the date was over. Much longer and he wasn't sure what would happen. Deep breathing only got you so far.

"Thank you for lunch," Leontyne said turning to him. She'd spent the entire ride looking out of the window.

"I'd like to see you again. Tonight, for dinner."

Leontyne's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding?"

"I never kid," he said.

Furious couldn't move. If even a hair follicle shifted he wasn't sure he wouldn't kill something, or try to fuck Leontyne into submission. So he settled for staring at her, which was the opposite of what he needed because she stared right back, defiance coming off her in waves. Figure he'd pick someone so infuriating. He should just let her go. Being with her was the last thing he needed.

She shook her head and reached for the door. "I don't have time for lies. What and who you do is your business. You're too old and I'm not naïve enough for this shit," she said, and got out of the car without a backwards glance.

The driver pulled away from the curb leaving Leontyne and her posse of hired muscle behind. Her absence didn't do a thing to dissipate the situation because her scent filled the interior of the car. Furious rolled down the window and prayed he make it to his house before he lost all control.

The drive was long on a good day, it took an eternity before the tires hit the gravel-drive leading to his home.

"Stop, I'll walk from here," he said through clenched teeth.

He pulled his tie over his head and took off his jacket and shoes. He stepped out of the car and waited for the driver to turn the bend before stepping into the grass and heading for the woods where he finished undressing. He couldn't allow himself to lose control on the level he wanted. He thought of this more like a controlled burn. Before he stepped out of the pants puddled around his feet he swung and hit the tree directly in front of him using it like a heavy bag until his knuckles were bloodied and a section of truck was smooth. He grabbed a nearby sapling from the ground, root and all, and beat the trees and ground until there was nothing left but a stick-size chuck of wood in his hands. He threw it aside and picked another with no more effort than plucking a flower from the ground. Bark and wood flew like shrapnel as the second sapling disintegrated in his hands. Still not sated he finally lost his form, turning into a nine foot bear, with claws capable of taking down small trees in a single swipe, which they did, until the space he was standing in was cleared. Still frustrated he spotted Helena.

Perfect.

Helena's body might have been stone and she was definitely stronger than any living creature he'd ever come across but she was not unmovable. Not when twenty-two hundred pounds of enraged bear hit her. She'd braced for impacted, planting her weight, her arms spread from her sides. He didn't knock her down and she was able to stop his forward momentum even with him pushing with everything he had. He stopped trying to move her and stood on his hind legs, towering over her three full feet. She looked up unafraid, wanting the fight just as much as him.

They fought until Furious, coat slick and matted with blood, tapped out. His human form returned without a scratch on him, his wounds healing almost as quickly as Helena could make them and as always Helena never had a mark on her. No matter how hard his claws drew across her body. She looked a mess though, her hair wild and full of leaves, her body covered in dirt and his blood.

"Special," she said. She wasn't even out of breath.

Helena smiled at him. He smiled back.

"I came out to apologize. For last night."

"You don't owe me one. It's me that should apologize to you. I was foolish to think our relationship was meaningless to you."

"I understand why you would."

"But I shouldn't have," he said, standing and joining her on fallen tree she was sitting on.

"I know what you think of yourself and I'm sorry to admit that you almost made me feel the same way," he said pulling debris from her hair. "I'm no more human than you but I still deserve to live and be loved. We both do," he said.

Once, Helena expressed her thoughts on her place in the world. She'd been worshipped as a goddess, allowed herself to be captured and sold into slavery, escaped, grew bored and went into a hibernation-like state that lasted almost a hundred years and got bored of that. She was stuck in a world that had no place for her and no way to escape it. Furious understood why she'd stayed with him for so long. He was the closest thing she had ever found like her.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Because I am here. Does it matter the how or why of it? I am," he said smoothing down her hair.

"I was jealous," she said. Helena didn't smile or frown. Her face rarely featured any emotion, she claimed not to have any. Until today.

"I never meant to hurt you, Helena."

She looked away from him. "Thank you for that," she said. "You've always treated me well. You deserved better than last night."

"I deserve nothing from you, and I am grateful that you are in my life and happy to have been by your side these many years and hopeful that it will remain that way."

"You think your special girl will want me around?"

"It will be difficult at first but she'll come around."

Helena laughed. "I may not be human but even I know better than that."

Furious remained silent. He really hoped that wasn't true. He hadn't gotten to his ripe old age without learning a little. He'd found his wolf's mate. There was nothing he, Helena or Leontyne could do about it.

### Chapter Six

Leontyne was fuming as she tried to not stump like a petulant child. That...that...THAT ASSHOLE. Having the guards around her made it worse. She wanted to be the one to open her front door so she could yank the knob, she wanted to close it so she could hear the satisfying crack when the door met the frame. No one followed her into her office. Good thing, she would have shot the shit out of the fool. The phone on her desk rang and she picked up.

"What," she said, her temper still flaring.

"We have something," her dad said, and hung up before she could say a word.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. The last thing she needed was her father to think she was losing her shit.

She went to her room to change clothes. _We have something_ , could be anything from more video surveillance to a live body waiting to be interrogated. She put on clothes she wouldn't mind burning.

By the time she'd reached her father's house she was more in control but the thought of Furious was like a slow burning fire in her head... smoldering, waiting for that single gust of wind to turn into a full blaze.

The gates opened without the driver having to stop because there were security cameras mounted at least a mile from the actual house. She didn't wait for anyone to open her door, anxious to get to her dad's office to find out what he knew and whether or not she was going to have a chance to vent some of the rage that had been riding her since yesterday morning and renewed not too long ago.

"Have a seat," her father said without looking up.

She made herself a drink while Kyle and her father looked at documents spread over his desk, pissed they hadn't invited her over to look at what was so fucking intriguing. She sipped her drink hoping the warm burn of the whiskey would soon calm her nerves. Kyle stood, gathering what the two of them were looking at and left the room.

"The men at the club are new to town but should be easy enough to find. They've been seen all over the city most nights for the last two weeks."

"So they arrived around the same time I did," she said. After all these years, her father's biggest fear had finally come to fruition. Was he going to send her to a fortified bunker in the north-pole or was he going to keep her near him, the only person he truly trusted with her safety.

He surprised her by saying, "Tell me about your date?"

The question was asked casually, as he went to the bar and made a drink but he wasn't asking if she had a good time, he was asking about the person. Which meant he already knew pretty much everything about Furious Payne. She'd been with plenty of men and her father had never said a word. He never asked her about anyone she dated or bedded.

"It's nothing I can't handle," she said. It was a lie. Nothing handled Furious.

"Until we get this matter handled I think it best if you cease seeing him."

"Agreed," she said without missing a beat, even if her heart was beating a mile a minute and her stomach felt like she'd drank cement.

"I'm confident we'll have something soon. Will you be staying?"

"No, I'm going home. Call me when you've got something," she said.

Kyle was outside the office waiting on her and something had his boxers in a twist. She held in the sigh by the grace of God. The last thing she needed was another man all up in her face. Even if it was Kyle, but she followed him hoping that he was going to share with her what he and her father were looking over when she entered the room. He pushed on half of the pocket doors leading into the library.

"What is it," she asked when he closed them in.

"Your new boyfriend—" he started.

She cut him off. "He's not my boyfriend." She sounded childish even to herself. The last thing she needed to talk about was Furious Fucking Payne.

"There's something wrong with Furious Payne," he said.

She knew it. Since the moment they first made contact outside Selene's house she knew there was something different about the man. For Kyle to be concerned meant it had to be bad, although she couldn't imagine what it could be. Who were Kyle and her father to throw stones? Her father was an arms dealer but he dabbled in everything from kidnapping to assassinations. "Wrong how?"

"Either he's a three hundred year old man or someone has taken the identity of the same person for the last ten generations."

"What?"

"There has been only one recorded birth of a Furious Payne, in the year seventeen-oh-two," he said.

"That doesn't mean anything, you of all people understand fake identities," she said.

"Then explain these," he said, handing her a stack of papers—no photos—old photos.

They could have been taken today. With the exception of the clothes he looked exactly the same. Furious hard stare looked up at her from the faded images of a tintype to the sepia colored snapshots of the nineteen-thirties. "I don't understand," she said when she got back to the first photo.

"Neither do we and it's not sitting well with your old man," Kyle said.

"What is he going to do?"

"Nothing...for now. It doesn't make sense so he has me digging, trying to figure out how the man in a photo taken in eighteen forty-six is courting his daughter."

"Did you just seriously just say courting," she asked.

He smiled, "I did. But Lee, I think your father's right on this one. Stay away from him until I can find out what the hell is going on."

"Alright," she said.

He looked at her for a moment, trying to gauge the truth in the single word. Leontyne was strong-willed and neither Kyle nor her father thought for one second she would listen to either one of them.

Leontyne had barely gotten home when her cell rang.

"You didn't call me," Selene said.

"My father called me almost as soon as I crossed the threshold."

Selene light-heartedness dried right up. "Oh."

"Anyway, the only thing worth telling is I'm not seeing him again."

"What...why not?"

"Did we both forget he lives with a woman?"

"I'm not calling you a ho or nothing, but when has that ever stopped you?"

Leontyne laughed. Selene was just what she needed on days like these.

"And I'd be all in if it was a quick roll in the hay and behind her back, not a long term commitment to be someone's side piece."

"Did he say that, he wants it to be long term?" Selene said in awe. Like it was an honor to even be considered.

"All but," she said.

"So what are you doing?"

"Waiting for you, of course."

"Be right over," Selene said and didn't bother with good-byes just hung up the phone.

Leontyne didn't bother changing, the yoga pants and t-shirt she had on was prefect for whatever they decided to do. She wasn't going to leave the house, in case her father called her.

She flopped down on the couch thinking about the photos of Furious. There had to be an explanation beside he was a three hundred year old man. Maybe it was something genetic where all the men in his family looked identical. It was a weak attempt to make sense of the picture but the alternative was ludicrous.

She agreed not to see him and she meant the words when she said them. It had nothing to do with what Kyle had dug up on the man and everything to do with his roommate. His friend. His lover roommate friend. The woman was gorgeous. She could be with any man, yet the past twenty-five years she'd shared a life with only one. Damn her. Damn him for inviting her to lunch. Damn herself for being jealous. No, that wasn't right. Jealousy wasn't what lay in the pit of her stomach, it was something deeper. A strange sense of loss at what could have been. Why was she having the line of thinking for a man she knew almost nothing about and what she did wasn't exactly good. It wasn't bad but still. Furious Payne was exactly the kind of man she needed. Not that he'd done anything to show how dangerous he was. He'd been nothing but a gentleman since their first accidently encounter, but the same could be said about her father. The two were cut from the same cloth. She'd been trained since birth to recognize it. Selene entering the house stopped the incisive over-thinking.

"What happened," Selene asked pulling out a chair at the countertop.

Leontyne had no intention on spending her evening rehashing the time she'd spent with Furious. Even for her best friend. "Why don't we just get drunk and watch movies," she said.

"Drinks, but not drunk and movies, definitely," the woman countered.

Leontyne grabbed a bag of chips and a few boxes of candy and followed Selene who picked up the bottle of wine and glasses into the den. She'd waited forever to get into the old antebellum, had been excited for months about the party, and the event was meant to serve as a temporary escape of the hellish events of the night before. Instead it had added a new layer of complicated to her life. She was ready for a little mind-numbering normal for however long it lasted before her father found someone who knew something about her abduction.

### **-**

Selene and Leontyne were dozing on the couch when someone knocked on her door. William appeared in the doorway moments later.

"Who is it," she asked from the couch.

Mr. Payne."

"Oh my God." Selene whispered, popping up from her end of the couch like a jack-in-the-box.

If she only knew.

Leontyne didn't try to stop her friend from following her. Maybe if he saw she had company he'd leave. She turned the corner and had to will her legs to not pause. He was incredibly big, incredibly handsome standing in her foyer in a different suit from the afternoon.

"Hello Mr. Payne," Selene said from behind her when she didn't do anything but stare at him.

"Hello again, Miss. Fossier," he said. "How are you this evening?"

"I'm good. Thanks for asking. I'm on my way home." She came around Leontyne's body and wiggled her eyebrows before giving her a hug.

"You bitch," Leontyne whispered into her ear.

"You'll thank me later," Selene whispered back and actually bounced out of the door like she'd done Leontyne a favor.

"Get out," she said pointing to the door seconds after the soft click of Selene's departure. The damn guard had left the room too.

"No."

Her mouth dropped opened in disbelief. She tried again.

"Leave...now."

"No."

Leontyne was a second away from drawing her weapon. "Who do you think you are?" She asked when he still didn't move.

"The man you'll marry," he answered matter-of-factly.

"You're insane."

"Hardly."

"I'll never marry you."

"Those words mean nothing."

She laughed. How could she not. When she sobered she gave him a hard stare, one that should have said, _get the fuck out,_ he just stared right back. His face relaxed and calm. He looked prepared to stand in her foyer for eternity. And yet she didn't call for security or draw her gun. What she did was try not to let the butterflies in her stomach and accelerated heart-rate cloud her judgment.

"What about Helena," she asked, taking a seat on a bench in the foyer.

"She has nothing to do with this."

"I'm sure she'd beg to differ."

"And you'd be wrong. I already made peace with her over this."

"Made peace," she said. "What does that even mean?"

"You were right. I lied earlier. But it wasn't Helena that was confused, it was me. I was dismissive of her feelings because of the time we've spent together and the type of person I'd come to think her as. I was wrong. We cleared the air earlier. After I dropped you off."

"And just like that she's fine with you seeing other women."

"Not other women, you."

"Just me," she asked.

He didn't answer just looked at her.

"Are you going to leave?" she asked.

"It depends."

"On?"

"If we're going out for dinner or staying in."

"You're serious?" she asked, flabbergasted at the gall.

"Very."

"Do you always get your way?"

"Not always."

"So why are you so set on this?"

"Because I can be."

"What?"

"You're mine Leontyne, you just don't know it yet."

And wasn't that the problem? She was surrounded by men hell bent on treating her like an object and not a person. Even her own father.

"I don't belong to anyone," she said, getting angry.

"Is there a problem, Ms. Deveaux?"

Finally. The very impressive guard stepped into the foyer. He wasn't as tall has Furious but he was as big. She suspected he'd never been far, only out of eye-sight but never out of ear-shot. He'd given her the illusion of privacy so that she could talk to her guest.

"There's no problem William. Leontyne and I were just firming up our dinner plans," Furious answered. Still looking at her.

William looked at Furious, then Leontyne for guidance on how to handle the situation. She didn't want to shoot the man. He needed his ass kicked but William wasn't the person for that job. She couldn't think of any of her father's men that were. Not even Kyle. Maybe she should just shoot him in the leg.

"Fine," she said throwing her hands up in defeat. "In, and it better be good," she said, leaving both men standing in her foyer.

The food had been delicious even if the time spent eating had been in silence. Leontyne may have not been able to get him to leave but that didn't mean she had to talk to him. Every time she looked at him he stopped eating and waited. When she didn't say anything he'd continue. Like there was nothing wrong.

"Do you plan on ever leaving or is this you moving in," she asked taking a sip of wine.

"I thought you'd like living at my place."

"Your place," she said, playing along. For now.

"Yes, it's bigger—room for children."

Leontyne choked on her wine. "Children?"

"Yes."

The man was serious. There was a playful glint in his eyes but the words were actually believed.

"I'll explain one day, but not tonight" he said standing.

"Now you leave," she said standing too.

"It's time. I don't want to overstay my welcome," he said, the corner of his lip turning up. He walked down the length of table, stopping in front of her. He was so big, his presence had a way of making everything else small. As if there wasn't enough room for him and anything else.

"I do like you," she said. The longer he stood before her the slower her heart beat. Wrapped in a cocoon offered by the man blocking out the rest of the world in the comforting heat his body threw off. The deep inhale and exhale was more than a sigh. It was her body surrender to the man, even if her mind wasn't all in.

"I know."

He leaned in to kiss her but moved slow, giving her a chance to refuse him. And even after his refusal to leave her house, she knew that if she said stop he'd stop. The closer his face got the slower he moved. When their lips touched it was so light she may have imagined it. In the end it was she that kissed him. She could feel the smile beneath her lips. She smiled with him. Then he took over the kiss.

She was not prepared for the solidness of him when he pulled her into his arms. She felt safe in the way she had when she was a little girl and believed her father could move mountains, safe in the way she believed when she was a pre-teen surrounded by guards everywhere she went, safe in the way when she realized she could take on a man twice her size and come out the victor. It had all been taken away. It wasn't vengeance she sought, it was security. Her father drilled into her that her life was in imminent danger because of who he was. Leontyne had never been touched by the life her father had chosen. In a second her charmed and safe life had been taken from her. His body was like holding granite, and within his arms she didn't feel, she knew, nothing could touch her. Leontyne ran her hand down his back, around his side, and beneath his jacket only to have it stopped before it could reach its final destination.

"No," he said against her skin. She stiffened in his arms but he wouldn't let her pull away.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, this is not what I want you to think back on when you remember our first time together."

"And you say that like I will."

"You will, an often," he said with a confidence that was borderline arrogant.

"This is exactly what I want to remember. Something happened...one day I might tell you or maybe I won't, but right now, you're what I need to make it better."

Furious' eyes narrowed and his nostril's flared and he looked at her for so long she believed he'd refuse her this too.

"May the Gods help me, you're going to be the death of someone."

Leontyne had enough rage within her to make any berserker proud. But beneath all that rage was something else. Something had happened and something bad. How could he refuse her?

He couldn't.

She trusted him to take the pain of what happened away. Needed him to do it. He was both comforted at the thought and enraged at the mysterious event. What had happened? Who had hurt her? He swept her up in his arms, her strong body cradled in his arms and took the stairs two at a time. He entered the bedroom, closed the door with his foot before releasing her legs. When her feet was on the floor he backed away to give her space—and time to make sure this was what she really wanted, what she really needed.

She toed her shoes off. He loosened his tie and pulled it over his head and placed it on the back of the chair in the corner then removed his jacket. When he began to unbutton his shirt she mirrored him. They undressed together their eyes laser focused on each other. When they were naked Furious could no more tell what her body looked like then if she was fully clothed. He took a step towards her but she remained still. He moved slow, still giving her time, and taking the time to scent the air around her but there was no fear, no rage, nothing but a calm that slowly embraced him the closer he got to her. He'd known she was special, just not how special. A shuttering breath escape him as he stopped in front of her. Controlling his emotions had been like holding back a damn. He had to work at it every single second of every single day for as long as he lived. Now all that rage was gone. For that reason along, he wanted her by his side for eternity.

"Thank you," he said.

She placed a palm on his cheek. The touch radiated to the soles of his feet. She closed the last little bit of space that separated their bodies as she kissed him. His erection was pressed between their bodies and the feel of her silken skin running the length of it was enough for him to fear early release. Worry is the only thing that stopped him. It'd been ages, eons since he'd been with a human woman but he remembered the math never added up. There was twelve inches of what felt like forged steel between their bodies. This time when Leontyne's hands traveled between their bodies he didn't stop her. His entire body seized when she wrapped her palm around him and his body took over completely when she started stroking him, his hips rocking back and forth with each strong pull of her hand. Furious couldn't remember a time he was so anxious about sex.

"Please," she whispered.

He backed her up until the back of her legs touched the bed. She climbed to the middle and waited. If he lived until the sun destroyed the earth he would never forget a single inch of her. Her body was a work of art. The body of a true shield maiden lay before him. Strong and hard, a body made for battle, one made for him. Muscular arms and thick thighs, the ridges of six pack abs covered in silk smooth skin.

She raised her knees, spreading her legs as he climbed onto the bed. Their bodies sank into the mattress as he covered her with his body. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders as her legs went around his waist. Her core was wet and warm, the scent of honeysuckle bloomed in the air thick. He could already taste it in his mouth.

Leontyne fingers scored his scalp as she pulled his hair. His body was tight with need, the need to pummel, to plow, to rage, but he gave her something softer. He kissed her long and deep, tasting her, relishing the feel of her tongue, even her damn teeth. Her hips circled, coating his erection with arousal and he was powerless to stop his own slow back and forth grind. He broke the kiss knowing if he breached her body, if even a centimeter entered her, he wouldn't be able to stop. And he had to taste the sweet nectar between her legs.

He began a slow crawl down her body, kissing her neck and collarbone. He kissed a nipple before sucking it hard enough that Leontyne's back arched. He serviced the other before continuing down. He kissed down her stomach, grabbing a thigh and placing it over his shoulder opening her wide for him. She cried out as he latched on licking and sucking until her body began to buck. His tongue circled her clit before delving lower, collecting the sweet slickness her body offered. Her thighs clamped like a vise around his head as strong hands forced it harder into her core. He could spend the night tasting her but she demanded more, they both did.

He went back to her clit while inserting a finger then two and almost came she was so tight, each time he pulled his fingers back he could feel her gripping, grabbing, he could only imagine what it would feel like to have her wrapped around him. Leontyne planted her feet, and grinded her core into his assaulting mouth and fingers until her body vibrated and a throaty scream filled the dark room.

He climbed her body and kissed her. Slow at first and then harder. His true nature finally coming to head. He would give her what she needed—always—but he was what he was. Leontyne fisted his cock and had pulls had him growling and baring his teeth. She guided him to her opening and pushed her hips forward to connect their bodies then grabbed his ass and pulled while she pushed until no more could fit within her body. He slid easy into her body even with the tight fit until the tip of him hit her cervix. He pulled his hips back and the walls of her sex slammed down tight on him, freeing all inhibitions, snapping all control.

He braced an arm on the bed and grabbed a fistful of hair to hold her head still so he could look into her face, to see if he hurt her. The brutal and punishing thrusts brought him to the end of her each time but there was no pain in her face. She didn't close her eyes, she looked at him, looked through him, pass the mask he'd worn for too long. He wasn't human and had never been. He was berserker, a war machine, created for one thing and one thing only—to destroy. Being custom made for slaughter had a way of staying with you even with all the battles ended. He'd hidden his true nature but Leontyne saw. Looking into a face he could no longer control, teeth bared, growling and snarling escaping his throat she didn't look away, didn't stop the hard hold of her legs and arms. His body actually grew, his forms dueling for dominance each wanting to be nearer the woman...their mate.

His teeth ached to be planted in her skin, to mark her as his. His eyes left her face and zeroed in on the spot on her shoulder, the place she'd wear his mark. He lowered his head and kissed it, then pressed his teeth on her flesh. Leontyne's body held him tighter and she screamed as her body bucked beneath him. He buried his face her skin, muffling the sound of his own roar as he came.

He had been wrong. It was exactly what he wanted her to remember because it was perfect. And he would never forget, no matter how long he lived. It was perfect.

### **-**

Leontyne smiled a secret smile thinking about Furious unannounced visit and the unexpected turn of events once dinner was finished. She laughed out loud when she thought of the photos she'd seen the day before. How foolish she had been and Kyle and her father still were. There was a reasonable explanation out there for the pictures and Furious not being who he claimed to be wasn't an issue because no matter why he took on the fake name he couldn't be worse than her father. In the long run it was probably for the best anyway. If she took over her father's business Furious would be just the man to stand at her side.

"I thought we all agreed you were to stay away from Furious Payne," Kyle said entering the bathroom.

"I'm in the tub."

Kyle looked at her, "And—"

"Little privacy," she said.

Kyle's face was all, _are you serious?_ When she just stared at him he turned around.

"He was not invited and unannounced," she said taking the sponge and soap from the recessed square in the wall next to the tub.

"And it didn't occur to you to tell him to leave?" Kyle pulled out the chair to her vanity and sat with his back to her.

"I did. He refused to go."

Kyle turned around. "Refused to go?" His eyebrows were in his hairline.

Leontyne shrugged. "Yeap. You can ask the guard if you want to."

"I'd better not, because then I'd have to kill him and why should William be punished for your dumb ass mistake."

She didn't say anything because it was pointless to argue.

"Don't you want to know why I'm here?" he asked.

"I thought it was to give me a tongue lashing."

A lashing is called for, but nothing involving a tongue comes close to the punishment you obviously need. Did you know Furious Payne owns the home you've obsessed with since you were a little girl?"

"Yes, he told me," she said, dipping the sponge in the milky water, enjoying the slight aches in her entire body. She'd been with strong men before but no one like Furious. It had been like battle. One where they both came out the victor.

"Did he tell you he's the original owner? Land purchased in 1860, no transfer of ownership, no record of sale, same name, same fucking signature."

"Signature." Leontyne looked up. The magic of the time spent with Furious begin slipping.

"Yeah, signature. Since his return to the city he's rejoined every private club in the area, there are contracts with construction companies from updating the house. It hadn't been lived in since electricity was invented."

"You can't possibly think he's the same person," she said, but something begin to nibble away at the certainty she'd just felt in his arms.

"What I'm saying is everyone agreed you'd leave the man alone until we figured out what the fuck was going on." Kyle stood, anger radiating off him as he stared daggers at her. "But that's not the reason I'm here."

Leontyne sat up in the tub. Dropping the sponge, her hand gripping the edge of the tub. "Unless you've changed your mind on that as well."

She dressed as she had the day before, in a pair of long stretchy pants, a t-shirt and her running shoes. She braided her hair and tucked it inside her shirt. She pulled on a light jacket and looked at the unmade bed. She would never be the same but Furious had given a part of herself back. And where she was headed was going to help, too.

Kyle was already at the car when she came out of her bedroom. William was at the opened door of the car. She slid into the empty back seat. Kyle was angry, giving her the silent treatment. She could care less.

The ride took forever and was over too soon. She stepped out into the grey-blue of pre-dawn. There was frost on the ground today. A cold snap must have moved in overnight. Each foot fall crunched on the grass as they walked around the main house headed for a small structure behind it. Originally the building was the kitchen house, now it housed the guards that didn't live in the main house. Heavy double doors on the back led down into a root-cellar. The space wasn't packed full of canned and pickled fruits and vegetables but hadn't been updated since its creation. A hard-packed dirt floor and walls covered in stones of various sizes that could have been from the river not too far from the house. Aged, dark-wood shelves lined one side and the other had large wooden bins in the same dark wood. Three single bulb fixtures were secured to the ceiling and the naked bulbs were one hundred watt, casting hard shadows on the walls.

Leontyne didn't look at the man tied to the chair. She looked at another. Her father's hard stare weighed each step closer. If Kyle knew about Furious than so did he, but it was impossible to tell if he was angry _with_ her or _for_ her. He didn't greet her, didn't speak at all and neither did she as she came to a stop a few feet from him. He stared...she stared back. A silent communication, she was waiting for permission, him deciding whether to give it. Finally he stepped away from the man bound to the chair.

Leontyne lowered her eyes and smiled. The man looked frantic. It looked good on him. His head bounced back and forth between Leontyne and her father, occasionally Kyle got a piece of the action, but her father got most of the looks because he was the boss. Leontyne slapped him so hard her palm stung.

"Don't look at him." she said.

He looked like shit, and not just because his life was ending that night and he knew it. The beating she'd given him was all over his face. Two black eyes from the broken nose, swollen and bruised cheeks with splits in his top and bottom lips.

"Bitch," he said and spat at her.

The punch came out of nowhere, knocking the man out and probably breaking his jaw. Leontyne looked at her father and he was once more her Superman. Larger than life, unmovable, invincible and angry as fuck. He wasn't just still he looked inanimate as he glared at the unconscious man. When he moved it was to leave the room, walking off without a backwards glance.

Kyle took off his jacket and headed for the corner while rolling up his sleeves. He grabbed the edges of a wooden table on casters and rolled it next to the man.

"Shall we wake this motherfucker up?" he asked, cracking open a capsule and holding it under the man's nose. "Wake up sleeping beauty. Don't want you to miss the party. After all, you're the guest of honor."

The man woke with a jerk and thrashed around as the realization finally sank in. Tough guy talk was just that. Talk.

Leontyne looked at the assortment of tools on the table. Amongst surgical and dental equipment were different types of brass knuckles, c-clamps, a vise, an assortment of whips, a length of chain, an aluminum bat and a metal tipped tire thumper. She ran her finger up the smooth golden colored wood of the tire thumper before picking it up. She squeezed the rubber-covered grip a few times and like the way it felt in her hand.

"So you like ass play?" she said, with an evil smile.

The man's eyes doubled in size and he renewed his futile attempt to break free.

"What do you want to know? I'll tell you everything," he said.

Leontyne placed the tip of the thumper on the side of his face. He tried to jerk away but there was nowhere to go. She ran the cool tip down the side of his face, beneath his chin and pushed it into his throat.

"You are going to tell me everything," she said leaning down until she was eye-level. "After I'm done."

Chapter Seven

Helena was sitting on the porch bundled up in a large mink shawl in one of the wrought iron chairs placed on each side of the front door. She wasn't cold, she didn't feel heat or cold. She stood when she saw the car approach and he wondered how long she'd been waiting on him. Helena called herself inhuman but she hadn't acted that way in the last twenty-four hours. She gave great poker-face as he climbed the stairs. He stopped in front of her. She was beautiful for sure, elegant and exotic. She looked the part of an African queen.

"Information you wanted on the girl's father has come back. He's a bad human," she said, the words were spoken in a monotone that worried him.

"How bad."

"Slaver."

"Then may the gods help him," Furious said. Whatever punishment Helena saw fit to give Henri Deveaux was something he wasn't getting in the middle of. He'd been with her long enough to know better.

"If you have to kill him I'd prefer if Leontyne didn't know it was you."

"Of course," she agreed.

"Will you...kill him?" he asked.

"I haven't decided yet."

He'd never come across another living thing like Helena in his life. If he was ancient how old did that make her? She'd been through things he couldn't imagine. Some good, some not so good. She had been a godsend and blessing and the last thing on earth he was going to do was hurt her. His life, his purpose was meant for another, but the woman standing in front of him mattered too. Her well-being, her safety. He almost chuckled at the thought but it wasn't physical safety he meant but mental.

When their paths crossed for the very first time almost half a century ago she had just come out of a sort of hibernation. For almost a hundred years. Until the earth claimed her body and buried her completely. She'd been conscious the entire time. She gave no explanation why she rose but she'd met Furious soon after. The rest was history.

He brought his hand up and stroked skin harder than stone but it was porcelain he thought of. She was strong, impenetrable yet fragile. It wasn't fair he'd found the missing half of his very soul and Helena still stood alone. There would always be a place in his heart and home for her but he knew now it wasn't the same. There was nothing he could do about it, yet it didn't stop his heart from breaking a little for her. He'd fight tooth and nail to keep her with him but in the end it wasn't up to him, maybe not even up to her. He'd never lost a battle and he didn't plan on doing so in this.

She placed her hand on top of his, offering a slight squeeze. Leontyne had looked past the mask but Helena shared the secrets of his inner-self. She knew what he was. He dropped their joined hands and together they walked into the house he'd built before the civil war. He'd had slaves then and many times before in his long life. It wasn't a thing he was proud and one he'd eventually became ashamed of and after Helena shared her story...Yeah, he wasn't holding his breath for Henri Deveaux's future. The man would be lucky if his death was quick and not what Helena had given the last slavers she'd encountered.

### **-**

She was sure the gurgling were words, but the ability to speak had long been taken from her prisoner. There had been begging, then cursing, then begging some more. Leontyne wonder which words Simon were trying to convey this time. Probably begging. Not for her to stop, no, that had been in the beginning, in the end he'd been begging for death.

Her arms felt like lead-weighed rubber and she was surprised at the steadiness in which she raised the gun. Simon's remaining eye didn't widen in alarm simply stared patiently up at her from his kneeled position in front of her. She placed the gun on his forehead and pulled the trigger. The small space reverberated with the sound of the gunshot. Two hours was all she'd had in her. She could have kept him alive, taken a break, walked away for a day or two to allow him to heal and then started over but he'd given them the information. Not who was behind the master plan, the architect of her kidnapping had been smart. Smarter than the people who'd taken her. The man knew nothing of the person who wanted her but that they had deep pockets. Two million dollars. A million up front and another when she was delivered—alive—to a location yet to be revealed. She was strangely flattered in the amount and then felt sorry for whomever gave the three fuck-ups that much money. Simon had until the end of the week, which was why the idiot was still in town. He actually thought he'd give it another try. Fool. Leontyne didn't know who was the bigger, the paid help or the man with the plan. Either way, no one had done their damned homework. They hadn't know how well trained she was. The rest of the band of merry idiots had separated once she escaped and planned on meeting up tonight to go over plan B, one that didn't include leaving her unattended and unrestrained. Men and their dicks.

She drew in a deep breath that hurt. She'd pulled something, or maybe it was just stiffness settling in from the workout she'd gotten. Her arm dropped to her side and she had just enough strength to place the gun on the table that had started out with each instrument laid out neatly, the metal bright and shiny, now the top was bloody and the instruments jumbled.

"Your father would like to see you. He's in his office," Kyle said.

He'd never left her side, right there like a silent coach pushing her to do more...go further.

Leontyne looked down at the front of her body. "I need a bath." She wanted to soak for a week.

"He said as soon as you were done."

She breathed deep again and headed for her fathers' study. She squinted and shielded her eyes as the double doors were thrown open. She was bone weary and was reconsidering the bath in favor of sleep. She was going on twenty-four hours without any and in the last forty-eight she'd only gotten about three.

Her father was sitting on a loveseat reading the morning paper. A tray sitting on a low table in front of him had a coffee pot, cream and sugar and two cups and saucers. There was a plate on the table next to him with his breakfast. He lowered the newspaper when he heard them enter and if he was shocked by her appearance he didn't show it.

"Well," he asked folding the paper and sitting it next to him. He leaned forward, pouring coffee as she took a seat in a chair opposite him.

"Two million dollars from an unknown person or group to deliver me alive to an unknown location to be revealed this coming Friday. The deadline is this coming Friday. The location of the new safe house will be written on the third slate of a bench located at the trolley stop on St. Charles."

He nodded. "Go get cleaned up, I'll send your breakfast upstairs."

Leontyne wasn't about to argue sound advice. She was pushing up from the chair when he added, "We'll talk about Furious Payne when you wake."

She left without a word, leaving Kyle and her father behind. Furious was the least of their problems. As far as she was concerned he was no problem at all. And while she was willing to put the brakes on seeing him until they figured out who was trying to kidnap her she had every intentions on seeing him. She didn't care what they dug up on the man. Who were they to throw fucking stones?

She climbed the staircase and went to her room. She could smell the bath salts as soon as she entered and she left a trail of bloody clothes in route to the bathroom. Steam rose from the claw-foot tub and she eased into water that was almost too hot but just what her body needed. She closed her eyes and saw Furious. The time they spent together had been nothing short of magical and that was saying something because Leontyne had never been the type of girl to label sex anything other than satisfying or disappointing. It wasn't just the size of him it was the entire interaction. As if they both had given and taken something only the two of them could offer each other. While she doubted Furious was some squeaky clean regular old Joe, she didn't care if he was the dictator of a small impoverish nation who spent its money living a lavish life while his people starved. It should have been the worst time for meeting someone but he was just what she needed. Domineering in a way that reminded her of her father, controlling, stubborn, and used to getting his way. The two were definitely cut from the same cloth and once her father stopped being so paranoid she was sure the two would like each other, or maybe tolerate was a better word. Not that it mattered. They would learn to get along...for her.

The entire day passed without a word from Leontyne. Furious hadn't expected her to call the second he left her house but he certainly expected to hear from her by mid-day and when that passed and the sun started to go down and he still hadn't heard from her he was beginning to get pissed. He understood it was the mated male in him but they were really going to have to have a talk about expectations, mostly his. The not calling was bad enough, not answering his calls was worse.

He was headed for the door, keys in one hand the other holding the phone to his ear when her phone was answered.

"You will not ignore my calls. Ever." He said still heading for the door.

"And you will stop calling."

The sound on the other end would have given many men pause. Furious didn't break stride.

"I've been waiting for a call from you," he said, stepping from the porch straight onto the gravel drive. Two long steps had him at his car's door. He climbed in, hit the button ignition and the call was picked up by the Bluetooth.

"Then you know what I am."

"Enough," Furious said accelerating fast enough to kick rocks up as he sped from his house. "And I don't like what I know."

The chuckle on the other end was full on evil.

"Mr. Payne, you will stay away from my daughter. I don't know who you are, I don't want to know. I don't care. The only thing that matters is the survival and safety of my daughter. Until very recently I would have included money on that list but now it's just her and believe me when I say, I was dangerous when there were two things on the list."

"There are things already in motion that neither of us have any control over. Things that guarantee I am now a permanent fixture in your daughter's life."

"I see that this conversation is a waste of both our time so I'll end it now."

And he hung up on Furious.

Helena may not have to worry about what to do with the man after all.

His phone rang and he answered by pushing a button on the steering wheel. "Change of heart so soon?" He asked.

"Hello, I'm looking for Furious Payne." The voice was not Henri's.

"Speaking." Furious looked at the display but the number was private.

"My name is Cordell Wolfe. I've been asked to contact you on behave of your pack mate. Alexis Broussard."

"What?" Furious asked, his heart already kicking into overdrive.

"I have a number for him." The man called out the number that Furious repeated. "He wanted me to tell you its urgent business."

"I'll call as soon as I can. I have some business to clear up with an arms dealer."

"What? You know what on second thought I don't want to know." He hung up chuckling.

Leontyne now Alexis. Coincidence? Every magical bone in his body said no—hell no. The two were connected. How? He had no idea. His life, a life lived longer than most human minds could fathom, was spinning out of control. Control he desperately needed to maintain the fragile line he'd teetered for millennia. Leontyne was good. Her father no so much and Alexis...who the hell knew?

The original plan had been going to Leontyne's but the bigger problem was her father so a visit was in order. How it ended was entirely up to Henri Deveaux. Regardless of the outcome, he would tell Leontyne the truth. The entire truth. Werewolf, berserker...all of it. He was going to lay himself bare, no pun intended. All the calm Furious had gained from his time with Leontyne was gone and he embraced the feeling coursing through his veins and running along his skin like an old lover returned after a long absence. Her father may be big shit in the human world but he was nothing to Furious. He was hard to hurt in his human form, harder in his wolf form and damned near indestructible in his bear one. Odin had really gone all out when he created his warriors. In full berserker state neither metal nor fire could harm him.

The house would be guarded because that's how men like Henri stayed alive. He was dangerous and feared but a bullet didn't care what kind of reputation you'd earned. He expected skilled marksmen to have their sights on him as he was turned away at the gate. He was thinking about how much he was going to enjoy fighting some of the guards when he sensed the first wolf. Being a creature of Odin he'd always had the ability to feel when another was near. Being only two miles from Leontyne's father's house with a full moon hanging in the sky made him anxious for two reasons. Either the man employed wolves, or wolves were after him, both were not good. Although they would make the evening a lot more interesting than he originally planned.

He pulled the car over on the side of the road, glad Henri lived off a country road and not in the city. He was unbuttoning his shirt as he stood from the car. He hit the key fob headed into the woods where he finished undressing. The sensation grew stronger as his body prepared to turn into one of Odin's creatures. His wolf was larger than the average werewolves because he wasn't an average man, and it had nothing to do with his stature and everything to do with his berserker form. The only wolf he'd ever seen close in size had been Wallace. It was hard to believe he was about to see the big red-headed brute again after all these years. He changed forms in a single breath. His transition painless and seamless. He lifted his massive head and scented the air even as his ears perked, listening for the werewolves. They were moving fast. A large pack. But not towards him, they were headed for the house he'd been headed to. What the hell had the man gotten himself involved in to bring a pack of wolves to his front door? He was bigger and faster but they had a head start. He wouldn't reach them before they reached the house.

What did they want? Would they kill the man? Did he care?

Yes.

But only because the man was his mate's father.

The sound of gunshots made him run faster.

### **-**

He'd given her everything she needed to survive in his world. Training, a group of men better trained than any special services group in any government military because they started out stone-cold killer, and a complete and detailed account of exactly what he did and what she would have if she decided to take over after his death. It wasn't the life he wanted for his only child, and it had nothing to do with her being born a girl. She was capable. She'd proven that when she escaped the people that took her and again in the torture and killing of the man they were able to capture. Still, the life he'd made for himself was never meant to be passed down. It wasn't a legacy. It brought no joy to his life, only money, the only thing he cared about until the day that conniving whore placed the car seat on the floor in front of him. He should have sent her away, he'd even considered it but she had him wrapped around her tiny finger the second he heard the soft cooing. The only sound in the silent room. Quiet because a decision was being made. He hadn't been foolish enough to believe the word of the woman he allowed to live only because she was the mother of his possible child. He had paternity testing done. She was his. But he'd known that to be true before the results were in. A father's intuition is sometimes just as strong as a mother's. And god help him, he fell in love with her so strongly it made him not only weak but afraid. Afraid of the type of person he'd become if something happened to her. Not only for the people who hurt her but for himself. And if she died...

The thought made him shudder.

The latest events weighed heavy on him. He thought he'd prepared himself for the day when his life would run over into hers but he was wrong. It wasn't the kidnapping, even though that was enough that he hadn't slept more than a couple of hours since he landed in the city, it was the violation of her body. His hand tightened on the glass until it shattered. He squeezed harder, the pain from the glass digging in his palm an atonement for the pain she'd suffered.

Kyle said she was fine. She'd acted nothing but fine since his arrival. Going on with her life like nothing happened, but he was held prisoner by all the things she wasn't saying and the images of what the men who took her had done. He squeezed harder, clenched his jaw as the shards of glass bit deeper into his palm. The pain was welcomed. He deserved so much worse. The sound of gunshots snapped his head up and he stood as Kyle entered the room.

"We picked up a group of men ten, maybe fifteen trying to breach the wall. They brought attack dogs with them." He noticed the blood dripping from Henri's hand but didn't ask what happened

"Go to Leontyne," Henri ordered going to the cabinet behind his desk.

"On it," Kyle said already on the move.

Kyle had been new when Leontyne arrived. He was eighteen years older but it was Kyle he wished his daughter would marry if she decided to take over. Kyle was the only man he trusted with her life, beside himself. He knew when the two started sleeping together and knew the day she'd ended it. Kyle had told him.

Henri threw open the doors and flicked the switch to illuminate the guns held within. He took off his jacket and started suiting up, ignoring his dripping hand has he pulled on a double shoulder holster and grabbed two Walther PPQ 45's. Four extra clips went in his pockets. He stopped long enough to pull the glass he could see from his palm and wrap his tie around it before grabbing a Marlin 1894 CB rifle. He almost looked forward to encountering one of the men surrounding his house. He needed this as much as Leontyne needed her kill. Fifteen men, and some dogs. His men should be able to take care of that with ease. He only hoped there was at least one left standing when he got to the action. He headed in the direction of the gunshots and stopped short at the double doors leading into the back yard. A woman was standing just on the other side.

### **-**

Henri stood stunned at the sight of the woman. Not only because it was the last thing he'd expected to see in the middle of a gun-fight but the woman herself was...stunning. Skin that was almost as dark as the night she stood in, she was dressed in all white. A round collared shirt with three-quarter length sleeves and a pair of pleated front pants. Large almond shaped eyes, wide mouth with full lips and a long straight nose, she was beautiful.

Henri raised the rifle but didn't shoot. She opened the door telling him she'd picked the lock because there was never an unlocked door or window in a room not occupied and certainly not with what was going on with Leontyne. She was bald and her skin was black glass.

"How unfortunate such a vile creature resides within such a formidable form."

"Who are you," he asked.

She crossed the threshold, a bare foot landing on the travertine tile and Henri thought, _even her fucking feet are beautiful._

"Justice...vengeance...judge, jury and perhaps executioner."

The woman had no weapons that he could see, but that didn't stop him from feeling like his life was in very real danger. It was the lack of weapons, complete lack of fear and absolute certainty in her eye that made him finally pull the lever on the rifle. The woman's demeanor didn't change. She stood before him; dead center across from the barrel of the gun and he could have been holding out a bouquet of flowers.

He thought about Leontyne. She was upstairs with Kyle. He'd never missed a birthday, or holiday, had even taken her on a few vacations but he'd held back in so many other ways. He refused to touch her if at all possible, as if the blackness that lived within him would somehow rub off on her. He'd never said the words, I love you, to her even though those three words made life worth living when she said them to him.

He didn't lower the gun as he said, "A trade. My life for hers. I'll give you an easy kill, if you spare my daughter." He tightened his finger on the trigger, "or I can pull this trigger."

In the silence that stretched out after his proposition Henri wasn't just keeping an eye out for sudden movements. He couldn't help but stare at her. Of course, if the next words out of her mouth wasn't something he wanted to hear he was fully prepared to shoot her in the face.

"You are a man of your word?"

"I am," he said, and to prove it he took his finger off the trigger and lowered the rifle to the countertop next to him and pushed it away. He would have taken off the holster but negotiations weren't over.

The woman watched him and there was no doubt he was being weighed and measured.

"I will spare your life for one reason and one reason only. You will stop dealing in the selling of humans."

The words were so unexpected he had to run the request through his head a few times before they fully registered.

"And my daughter."

The woman laughed. A real laugh that was as sexy and exotic sounding as the woman.

"Fear not, slaver, there's not many a thing that can now hurt your daughter."

Henri's mouth was open to ask a question when the first dog came through the opened door. It attacked the woman, jumping up and landing on her back. A second entered the house before he could draw the pistols.

The woman didn't make a sound as she turned her upper body to better grip the dog on her. The second was tearing at her legs. She peeled the first from her and bent its large body in half, Henri heard its back break. She threw it aside, still alive, to focus to the second. The arm of her shirt was torn almost completely off and her pant leg was in shreds as she snapped the neck of the second dog. Then she straightened her form and looked about as put out as someone attacked by tea-cup poodles.

There was no blood.

"What are you?" Henri asked, the guns still out in his hands, but at his sides.

"That is the million dollar question," she said before turning and walking out into a night filled with gunshots and fucking attack dogs. Big ass fucking attack dogs.

Henri went to the dog with the broken back. That's when he saw it wasn't a dog after all but a wolf. He shot it in the head still thinking about what just happened. First, Furious Payne and now this mysterious woman. He'd been in the business for a long time, done a lot of dirty shit but he was left wondering what he'd gotten himself into when he thought about the events unfolding.

Kyle's original assessment of the situation had been wrong because Henri passed three dead men and killed five more and the sound of gun fire was still continuous all around him. He had just put down another broken wolf when the sharp sound of Kyle's whistle nearly stopped his heart. If Kyle was outside than so was Leontyne. He'd never given her any traditional punishment but he was seriously considering putting her ass across his knee.

"Daddy," she said appearing seconds before Kyle.

"Get back in the house...Now!" he screamed at her.

She didn't have time to protest.

Two wolves appeared at the same time, running full speed. One from the left, the other from the right, headed right for her. In perfect synchronization Henri and Kyle raised weapons in opposite directions, pulling triggers at the same time. Henri was lining up his second shot when a third wolf, bigger than any canine he'd ever seen outside of photos of a Tibetan Mastiff, caught the smaller in jaws that radius looked big enough to fit a beach ball with room to spare. It shook the smaller wolf like a favorite chew toy before dropping its body to the ground, repositioning its mouth and biting off the head.

The Marlin was a powerful piece of equipment but Henri knew anything short of a bazooka might as well be a bb gun. He shot anyway. He dropped the empty weapon while running to Leontyne, who was firing her own gun. Kyle reached her first since he'd been closer and the two of them stood in front of his most prized possession giving her room to make a clear shot but prepared to step in front of her when the time came. The wolf bared its teeth and growled, raising the hairs on Henri's body. He wasn't advancing but he wasn't retreating either and becoming angrier...and bigger. Until the growling and snarling became the roar of a great black bear.

Guns empty, Henri reached for a clip in his pocket when he saw the woman again. The bear was standing on his back legs, frightening and promising certain death. He dropped down and Henri could swear the ground shook.

"Run." He was calm. Prepared to give her a head start.

"Get her out of here," he said to Kyle without taking his eyes off the bear. He stepped in front of his daughter.

The bear roared. Henri yelled. The great beast charged.

So did Henri.

Chapter Eight

It was the love for his daughter that saved his life, not the promise to stop trafficking. Of course, if he didn't keep his word Helena was prepared to hurt him...bad. The human man wasn't tall, but height wasn't everything. He was thick, solid and powerful. It would have been a shame for Furious to kill him. Not only because men of his caliber hardly existed anymore but because Leontyne would almost certainly never agree to be with him. And despite her first reaction to his liking the girl she didn't want anything but good things for her longtime partner.

She was further away, behind Furious, but she knew she'd catch him before he reached Leontyne's father. She jumped into the air landing on his back, high on his shoulders, driving the top of his body into the ground. Claws as long as her forearms slashed at the tattered remains of her shirt stripping it from her body.

"Stop you fool!" she yelled.

It was a waste of words. Furious wasn't just angry he was in a berserker rage. The three of them emptying their guns into him wasn't good, but Henri stepping in front of Furious' mate was a show of dominance and a clear challenge. She clotheslined him. Knocking him on his back and then punched him. She wanted to give the people behind her a chance to run. She'd fight him until he wore himself out. Or at least that was the plan. She'd never seen him so angry. Together they'd taken down wolves and men that were on the property who weren't part of its security detail. She knew the business dealings of Henri Deveaux but nothing pointed to him being the enemy of the werewolf. Her armed was pulled back to deliver another blow when something hit her. She turned her head to find the idiot slaver laying on the ground behind her. He'd tried to tackle her out of harm's way. God. Men. The delay was enough for Furious to escape her hold. The slaver stood, pulled a long hunting knife from a hip holster. Helena tackled him, covering the front of his body with her back just in time to take the blow Furious great claw delivered. They fell to the ground a tangle of arms and legs.

"Foolish man," she hissed.

Furious was on the move again and this time she would be too late. Leontyne and the other man had not run. Did they want to die? The man pushed her behind him. Furious roared again and batted him away, sending him flying through the air like he'd been shot from a cannon.

"Leontyne!" Henri screamed from beneath her. He was actually trying to push her aside.

"Be calm, he would never hurt her."

They watched as the bear finally reached his mate. Leontyne, too stunned or just prepared to die, never took a step. The bear stopped so sudden his paws dug into the soft earth, sending chunks of dirt flying. He made low grumbling sounds, and huffed as he closed the last of the space that separated them. Leontyne rocked on her heels as he pushed his nose into her belly. The bear morphed back into his wolf form, Leontyne whimpered in fear but remained still.

"Can you get off me?" Henri asked beneath her.

She looked down at the man, surprised at her actions. She'd saved him. Hadn't she come to kill him not an hour ago? Soon Furious would be calm enough to change back into his human form, as long as no one triggered any aggression. Which meant it was time for some explaining.

"That is your daughter's mate. He will never hurt her. Remember that when you stand."

She slowly moved, watched his every move and was ready to stop him from doing anything stupid that would get him killed. When they were standing she took his arm.

"Do not try to come between him and Leontyne, unless you really are prepared to die this night."

"What's going on?" Leontyne asked as they approached. The great beast was still sniffing her.

"It's Furious," Helena said.

Leontyne eyes widened, her mouth fell open. "Furious? I don't understand."

"Furious is a werewolf and berserker..."

"Odin's warrior," the girl said, her voice full of awe and disbelief.

"Yes, werewolves have life-mates, a single individual born just them. He will love you, protect you, kill all that means you harm and deny you nothing if it is within his power to give it."

As she spoke the wolf's body became the man's. He kneeled before Leontyne, keeping his head down, his fists on the ground. Probably not the way he'd planned on breaking the news to her. She hadn't agreed with his decision to tell her so soon but he felt if she knew the truth it'd sway her decision. She guessed now they'd find out if his line of thinking was true or not.

Leontyne looked down at the top of Furious' head. She took a step, raised her hand slowly and placed it on the top of his head and slowly rubbed it. Furious body relaxed as she accepted him. Still on his knees he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. Movement and a low moan drew Helena's head in the direction Furious had swatted Kyle.

"We'll check on him," Helena called over. "Stay with him. He needs you."

Leontyne nodded, looked down at Furious and started stroking his back. Helena wondered if he knew he was speaking in Old Norse. She and Henri walked over to the down man. They were still connected, he bent his arm so her hand rested in the crook of it instead of holding on to his forearm. They could have been on a late night stroll. When they got closer she allowed Henri to go to his comrade.

"Kyle, don't move," he said, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"I think my back's broken," he said grunting but he was rolling over. "No...wait...make that my entire body," he said, turning over. "What the fuck is going on," he asked looking over at Leontyne and a very naked, still kneeling, Furious.

"Werewolf," Henri said in a deadpan voice.

"Well, that explains a lot," Kyle said, wincing as Henri helped him to his feet. His back wasn't broken but his arm was.

Helena was glad she had not killed the man, and hoped he didn't do something to change her mind. She was also glad Furious hadn't killed the other. A good man was indeed hard to find. They worked and lived in the world's darkest and vilest parts but they'd also exhibited strength of character Helena hadn't seen in ages. They deserved to live.

At least for now.

### **-**

Kyle, Helena and her dad left her alone with Furious. Kyle limping badly between the other two. She was glad he was okay, she was glad they all were. She'd been asleep when the first shot was fired and woke up like any good soldier. The gun from the night stand was in her hand before her sleep addled mind was fully online. She was pulling a shirt over her head when Kyle entered the room. They'd argued because he insisted they stay put. But her father hadn't come and wasn't coming which meant she wasn't staying either. Kyle had tried to stop her, or at least would have but she drew her gun. He didn't look afraid as he stared down its barrel and he knew she was serious when she said she'd shoot his ass if he didn't move out of her way. He moved.

They passed body after body until she finally spotted her father standing over another dead wolf he'd just shot. The next few minutes were playing in slow motion in her head as she petted the man wrapped around the lower half of her body, his face nestled in her stomach speaking a language she didn't know.

When the two wolves entered on each side of the clearing she'd drawn on the side with Kyle and the twin shots killed the animal headed for them. Her father's wolf, shot only a single time, hadn't gone down. The bigger wolf that arrived was a thing straight out of hell. She actually thought, _hell hound_ , when she saw it. There was no time to run, the three of them opened fired once he decapitated the other animal. She and Kyle hadn't disregarded her father's instructions in some noble act of bravery or loyalty. Who could run when they just witness a wolf turn into a bear? Not to mention her father's ridiculous charge of said magical bear. She thought she knew how much her dad loved her, after tonight, she knew she'd never know the depths of that love.

The arrival of Helena, Furious' lover, was so mindboggling she was once again struck too stupid to run when Kyle pushed her aside to stand in front of the charging bear and she prepared to die when he was swatted aside like an irritating insect.

Furious.

It was Furious. God...did he live up to the name. She laughed. She laughed so hard she bent over the kneeling man and cradled him to her body. Slowly, she lowered into his lap where the laughing turned into giggling.

"Berserker," she said, placing a hand on his bearded cheek.

"And werewolf," he added.

"Double the fun," she said. He smiled down at her. "I should have known you were other worldly. You're just too damned fine."

Her words, her acceptance made him laugh. A deep, rumbling sound that vibrated her bones in the most wonderful way. She liked him happy and she was going to spend the rest of her life trying to make sure he stayed that way. He grew serious, placing a palm on her stomach.

"You are with child."

She'd killed the men responsible and she'd kill the thing growing inside her and then hunt down and kill the others. She'd kill them all.

"No," she said, fighting her way free of him, getting to her feet and backing away.

"Leontyne," Furious said slowly rising from the ground. "I know this is a lot to take in all at once but this doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"Doesn't have...bad thing," she sputtered in disbelief. "Are you insane? I'm not having this baby!" she screamed. Her anger building and building until she felt like her body would burst into flames.

"I don't understand," Furious said.

"If you think I'm keeping the baby of the man who raped—"

Furious body became still, his face, previously filled with a lot of confusion settled into a blankness that cut her words short and caused her to take a step back.

"Explain yourself," he said, low, almost a whisper.

"I was drugged, kidnapped and raped. The day I bumped into you on the street I'd just escaped and was on my way to meet my father at the airport. I saw a doctor, I took a pill that should have taken care of any pregnancy."

"And you fear the child is your attacker's," he said just as low.

She nodded.

Furious blew out a long slow breath and his body relaxed...a little.

"Lovely, the child within your womb is mine."

Leontyne was weak, so weak she could no longer stand. She felt her body falling and was powerless to stop herself. Furious caught her, sweeping her up and lowering them both back to the ground where he cradled her in strong arms as she sobbed in relief.

"Are you sure?" she asked between sobs. "Are you certain?"

He held her hard to his body, a body vibrating. "Yes, it's your scent. It's changed. I never would have made love to you if I knew you were in heat, but the pill must have altered your natural scent. When I was in my bear form I first noticed the change in scent that's why I changed again. My sense of smell is strongest in my wolf form. It is my scent you carry within your body. A part of me grows in your belly."

"But how is that possible, we only had sex last night."

"Has this night taught you nothing? The world is full of wondrous things."

She launched herself at him and strong arms wrapped her up in warmth that had already become a comfort that only he could provide.

"I killed them, some of the men who took me," she said. After all, she knew his secrets.

"Good," he said without batting an eye.

"There's more."

"Then let us go and find them so we can kill them together."

It was better than giving her flowers.

Everyone had gathered in the parlour when Leontyne and Furious entered, a sheet was tied around the man's lower body. There were no clothes in the house that could fit him.

"Helena told us everything," Henri said, looking up at the man who claimed his daughter.

"Then I trust this conversation will be a lot different from the one that brought me to your home."

"What conversation?" Leontyne and Kyle asked together.

The two powerful men began a stare off.

"You're too old to act this way," Helena said to Furious, "and you're too smart," she said to Henri.

He looked at the dark beauty before turning his sights back on the giant with his arm around his daughter. He dipped his head, the action was returned and that's how the blessing was given and accepted.

"We were just trying to figure out how your father has found himself in this position," Helena said draping her body across the chair she was sitting in; an arm placed across the back and one leg thrown over an arm. She was wearing one of Henri's shirts. She'd also taken a shower in his bathroom. He got hard just thinking about it, and seeing her in his clothes weren't making things better and knowing she was probably naked beneath...

"And I was explaining how it was almost impossible for me to know which of my dealings pissed off a werewolf."

You're father told me you were recently kidnapped."

"Yes," Leontyne answered.

"Do you think it was werewolves that took Leontyne?" Kyle asked from his reclined position on the loveseat. He looked pale and in pain.

"I'm taking Leontyne away with me," Furious announced.

"You are," she said, already setting her shoulders for a fight.

Henri watched his beautiful, head-strong, deadly daughter and thought his chest would burst with pride. The man may think he had some weird ownership over her but Leontyne belonged to no one.

"Yes, I've been called back to my pack. After tonight's events and learning what happened before we met I know taking you with me is the only option."

"You do now, do you?" she said, throwing her hip out.

"I agree," Henri said before she got going.

"What?"

"We need to find out if the two things are connected."

"Werewolf even when human are immeasurable stronger than full human men," Helena added.

"Then it couldn't have been werewolves that took me. I fought all three, none of them were immeasurably stronger."

"Truly, you fought three men," Helena asked.

"I did," Leontyne said.

"You've chosen well, Furious. She is indeed—special. But you can't rule out the wolf's involvement. Your father says you were to be handed off to someone else."

"That's true but—"

"Leontyne, please," he father said, cutting her words off. "Let me find out what this is all about. Knowing you're away...safe—"

"And leave you to fight alone? How could you ever think I'd do that?"

"Am I chopped liver," Kyle asked from the couch.

"You know what I mean."

"He won't be alone. I'll call a Hunter."

"Hunter?" Henri asked.

"Yes, a family born and bred to hunt werewolves," Furious answered.

"And you'll contact them," he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The relationship between the wolf and hunter has changed over time. They're now more of a police force that put down rogue wolves."

"I won't leave him—"

"Leontyne, you will not win this argument. If you won't listen to me or your father than think about my child you're carrying."

"Excuse me," Henri said.

"What the fuck," Kyle said at the same time.

Leontyne stared daggers at Furious. "I can't believe you just played the baby card."

"Did it work?"

She turned away, feigning disgust, or maybe really pissed he'd done it. "It's a long story, but yes, I'm pregnant and Furious knows it's his so stop giving me that look Kyle," she said fanning her hands in frustration. "I'll leave, after I meet with the people who'll be helping my father." She held her finger up when she sensed Furious about to protest. "And not a second before." She turned to him. "And you will not win this argument," she finished.

He backed down because she was serious and he knew it. "I'll call right away and make the arrangements. Is there a phone I can use?"

"You know their number?" Kyle asked.

"They're usually listed, it's law that wolves entering a new area contact them."

"Listed...as what, werewolf hunter," Leontyne asked.

"Of course not, their business front is a trapping agency. I'd like to call now. If we're lucky we can get someone out tonight?"

"It's two o'clock in the morning," Kyle said.

"You do realize that werewolves turn to werewolves at night don't you," Helena asked.

"Oh...yeah, right," Kyle said.

Henri found it hard to keep his eyes off Helena, and as always, she was looking right back at him. It was hard to tell the reasons why. Her expression was blank. She'd threatened to kill him for human trafficking. He'd given his word to get out of the business and it was a promise he was going to keep. Not because it would spare his life, well, not only because it'd spare his life.

"I'd give you two some privacy but I'm pretty sure I've got a few broken ribs to match my broken arm and something is seriously wrong with my hip."

Henri turned away from Helena and focused on Kyle. "I want you to go with Leontyne," he said.

Kyle was the son he never had. He cared for the man and while he'd been a personal guard, his skill as a fighter and marksman made it hard to believe he could be hurt, much less killed. The enemy he faced now was unlike any he'd come up against. He wanted Kyle safe as much as he wanted Leontyne safe.

"No, and don't make me say it."

Henri didn't exactly smile but the corner of his lip did pull up on one side. "I have trusted you with her life since she was a baby. I know who and what protects her now but I still trust you to do right by her."

"I do right by you, Henri. I'm not leaving you. Period. And fuck you for making me saying it; you will not win this argument."

There was no stare off. Henri simply relented. "Alright."

He turned back to Helena who was still staring at him. "Are you a werewolf, too?"

"No,"

"A bear?"

She shook her head, "No."

What was she? It was the million dollar question. Whether it was rude or not to keep staring never crossed his mind, he wouldn't have cared if it was. He saw something he liked and therefore his gaze remained on her. His eyes roaming he body, envisioning what was beneath the shirt he'd offered after they'd gotten Kyle situated on the couch. Her shirt had been lost when she fought Furious in his bear form. He remembered every single inch of exposed skin. Black and so smooth it looked more like some dark stone than skin, which made sense because she was hard, not hard because she was muscular, hard to the touch. Like she was a moving statue. It explained why there was no blood after the dogs attack or the bear's claw striking her so hard it ripped the clothes from her body but didn't leave a scratch on her. All this, the not knowing what she was, and seeing what she was capable of and all he could think of was how his tongue would feel on her body.

"We're in luck, there's a Wolfe in the area," Furious announced entering the room.

"Wolf...and you say that like it's a good thing," Kyle said.

"Not wolf, w-o-l-f-e, the hunters last name is Wolfe," Furious said.

"And it just keep getting crazier and crazier," the injured man said.

### Chapter Nine

The doctor and wolf hunter pulled up at the same time. The doctor was taken to Kyle, the hunter and the rest of them went to Henri's office. The man was certainly built for battle. Over six feet of hard-packed muscle, his exposed forearm looked as hard as Helena.

"I'm Levi Wolfe, Mr. Payne has filled me in."

"I just want to know if you can protect my father," Leontyne said.

"If you're looking for guarantees I can't give them to you. What I can say is I've been training to track and kill rogue werewolves since I was a kid."

"You've killed one before," she asked.

"I have, several in fact, but from what Mr. Payne as told me you have a pack after you and killing an organized pack is different from taking down a lone rogue wolf."

"So you can't do it," Leontyne said looking at Furious with squinted eyes.

"Not alone."

"Then it's settled. I'm not leaving." Leontyne said.

"Which makes it a good thing that I'm not alone." Levi added.

"Oh," she said, and sat back down. "How many are there, Wolfe hunters?"

"I live with three other hunters, I can have five more by this afternoon and if we need more I can get that too."

"How many are there of you?" Henri asked.

"Thousands."

"So many," Leontyne said.

"And that's just in the U.S., we have hunters in every corner of the globe. If there's a wolf there's a Wolfe Hunter."

"To keep the balance," Leontyne said.

"Exactly," he said. He turned to Henri. "Is there anywhere else you can go while we sort this out?"

"He can move into my home," Furious said.

"I couldn't possibly," Henri said.

"You can and will. They know where you sleep. Kyle's out of commission and he's not the only one. You're down half your men."

"The house is fully staffed, they're not hunters but they know of the wolf's existence. I'm actually glad you'll be taking over residence. I felt bad leaving on such short notice. It will give them a chance to find a new house to serve in."

"And we'll set up our base of operations there until we figure out who's gunning for you," Levi added.

"It seems I'm out-voted."

"Glad we got that settled," Levi said standing. "I'm going to round up the rest of the guys and meet you at Mr. Payne's house."

"Thank you, Mr. Wolfe," Leontyne said.

"No need for thanks. It's my job," he said, tipping his hat before turning to Furious. "You're headed overseas?"

"We are."

"Give my condolences to Lillian and her children. Thomas was legendary."

Furious frowned. "I wasn't aware there had been a loss."

"Thomas Wolfe, he left us and joined forces with the King."

"King," Furious said.

"Yeah, Jean Rene is King of wolves in Europe. Thomas joined him after his son was killed in a failed coup of the Wolfe Hunters organization over there. They entire family is splintered. Some on Alfred's side, some on Thomas's and those who haven't joined a side at all."

"Wait a minute. Is there a civil war going on," Henri said eyeing Furious. "I thought I was sending her somewhere safe. I hardly think a damned warzone qualifies as such."

"Do you actually think I'd take Leontyne anywhere that I couldn't guarantee her safety," Furious said.

"Your arrogance truly has no end if you think you can keep anyone safe in a fucking warzone." Henri said standing.

Furious stood, towering over the unafraid man.

"Alright boys," Helena said coming to stand between the two. "Settle down."

She placed a hand on Henri's chest, moved her body closer to him. "The original plan still stands. Furious and Leontyne will go to Europe where he will be able to see for himself if it's safe for her. If it's not I'm sure alternate plans will be made. Besides, Leontyne will have me there as well."

Henri looked up at the dark woman because she was a half a foot taller than he. He didn't trust himself to speak so he just nodded.

"Mr. Deveaux, Jean Rene's home is also the base for his army, where wolf and Wolfe train side by side. There's hundreds of trained soldiers there."

"Then is there a safer place for her?" Helena asked.

"No." Henri agreed through tight teeth.

"Thank you Mr. Wolfe," Leontyne said again. "He's stubborn, but try to keep my father alive anyway."

"I know a thing or two about stubborn, Miss," he said. "I'll be going. I can show myself out."

Furious and Henri stared hate-daggers at each other with Helena standing between them. Leontyne wasn't sure if she was protecting her father from Furious or stopping her father from attacking the man.

"Can I have a moment with my father please," Leontyne said.

Helena stepped away from Henri and grabbed Furious' arm. Leontyne remembered how the woman had fought Furious while he was a bear. It had been amazing.

"Come," she said.

Was she dragging him?

"Are you going to behave," she asked.

The conversation felt like a first. Her father had talked more in the last few hours than he had in the last year. He seemed relaxed—no—free. He seemed free. For the first time, the invisible weight that always kept his shoulders tight was gone.

"I'm not going to go out and get myself killed if that's what you're asking,"

"Fair enough," she said.

All her life the incredible man in front of her had been her Superman, as strong and sure as the Rock of Gibraltar. How had the hellacious weekend kickoff new beginnings she could hardly wait to jump into? Blindly. God, she was pregnant.

"Thank you, I know you think you only did the best you could but in truth, it was just the best. You have given me everything."

"How can you say that, Leontyne? With everything you've been through."

She actually smiled at his furrowed brow. Had she ever seen an expression on his face?

"That wasn't you, if you'd had your way none of that would have ever happened because someone trained would have had my back, but I wanted normal, but my life was never going to be normal. I know that now."

"I'm so sorry, Leontyne."

"I'm sorry, too," she said.

"No, don't ever say that. You don't owe me an apology, you didn't ask to be a part of this life."

"No, but at least now you don't have to worry about me."

Henri allowed himself a rarity and cradled his daughter face in his hand. "My darling, darling girl. I will worry about you until the last breath leave this body. You are my crowning glory, my greatest accomplishment. You are the world I live in and have been since you came into my life."

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight because he didn't know the next time he'd see her or if he'd see her at all. Furious was right, there were things set in motion that neither of them had any control over. He was taking her across the world, he'd miss her but she'd be safe, and in the end that was all that mattered.

"I love you," he whispered.

He'd never said the words to her and as much as her _mate_ rubbed him wrong, he had to give thanks. For the first time in his life he felt free to love her completely. Never again would the consequences for his action be taken out on her. He would find the people behind her kidnapping and he would kill them and then he'd joined his daughter wherever that beast of a man took her.

Chapter Ten

Leontyne watched the scenery go by outside the car window and missed her father. She'd slept most of the ten hour flight. Furious was quiet, giving her the space she needed to come to grips with leaving him so far behind. It was the first time she'd been somewhere he couldn't reach her in a matter of a few hours. She hadn't realized how much his overprotectiveness comforted her.

"Leontyne," Furious said in a low voice. "We can go back, if it pains you this much."

"No. He wanted me to leave. I'm done fighting people who only want the best for me. Besides," she placed her hand on her flat stomach, "I have someone else to think about now."

"Are you sure, I can protect you no matter where we are."

She placed her other hand on his knee. "I know you can, but my father has his way of doing things and I'm not going to distract him by being there. I'll only get him killed if he has me around to worry about."

"If you change your mind, you have only but to ask and we'll be on the first flight back."

"Thank you" she said leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Are you excited to see your pack mates?"

He'd told her all about the adventures of the Nuntis Clan before she'd lost the fight with sleep. They seemed like a bunch of frat boys having the time of their lives.

"I am," he said smiling. It was a good look on him. "Stop the car!" he said suddenly, leaning up and placing a hand on the seat in front of them.

"What is it?" Leontyne hand was already on her gun. Werewolf, bear, or trained assassin, in the end, she was always prepared to take care of herself. She was dangerous before she was pregnant now she was a homicide waiting to happen.

"Wallace," Furious said. He looked at her and she instantly relaxed because the smile was mischievous and he'd told her all about the redhead wolf he loved to goad. She felt like she already knew the man.

She shook her head as he rushed from the car and her jaw dropped as he changed from big ass man to bigger ass bear from one step to the next. His clothes scattering like confetti around him. She followed, leaving Helena in the car with the driver.

Following the sound of his footfalls, she held her arm up to keep low hanging branches from slapping her in the face. She skidded to a stop at the sight of not one, but two, giant bears. Furious' black bear and an equally big brown one; that she assumed was Wallace, even though Furious had not mentioned the man being a berserker too. Life with the man was certainly going to be interesting. Shortly after she arrived a tall blond burst through the trees opposite her. She watched the woman search the area and raised an eyebrow when she picked up a tree branch. What the hell? Furious had Wallace on his back and the bitch actually hit Furious with the thick piece of wood.

She drew her gun.

Furious turned and roared in the woman's face, blowing her short hair back. And Leontyne watched in disbelief as the crazy heifer picked up a rock and threw it with professional pitcher strength and aim, hitting Furious in the face hard enough to draw blood. She was pulling the hammer back when Furious all but forgot Wallace and stood up on his hind legs. He took one step, a single one, and Leontyne forgot all about the woman, her injured man, and the gun in her hand. The brown bear turned into the frightening beast she'd only ever seen in movies. He didn't tackle Furious, he picked his ass up using one hand and flung the two thousand pound bear with enough force to snap the tree he landed on. But Furious wasn't out of the fight. He charged. The two came together in a fight that was savage and Leontyne wondered if Wallace knew Furious was playing, then wondered if he was indeed, playing.

Deciding that killing the blond, obviously Wallace's mate, was not a good idea she started making her way to the woman, introductions needed to made after all. That's when reinforcements arrived.

The wolves were like free flowing water but the last thing to enter scared her. Not because he was fourteen feet of nothing but evil incarnate, but because he clearly didn't know what the hell was going on, and in situations like this it was always better to eliminate the threat first and ask questions later. The threat needing eliminating was Furious.

"Enough!" she screamed at Furious.

At the sound of her voice he stopped immediately. Wallace did not. The fucker's last swing opened Furious' chest.

"Why...you...mother—" she said, taking am of the beast. But that's as far as she got before the blond grabbed a handful of hair. Leontyne turned, fist raised and was ready to knock the bitch out when her hand was caught.

"Now, lovely, women in your condition shouldn't be fighting. He kissed her knuckles.

"She started it."

"Leontyne," he warned.

"Fine," she said and pouted because as far as she was concerned the blond deserved at least one lick. She'd hit him over the head with a branch, bashed him in the face with a rock and her man had opened his chest with his claws. Although the wound had already healed.

"Who the fuck are you?" the blond asked.

But before he or she could answer Wallace did the honors.

"Furious Payne."

"Really....Furious Payne," the woman said and looked ready to laugh.

"Bitch," Wallace said to her.

"What did you call her," Leontyne said, forgetting she'd just called the woman a bitch twice in her head. If there was one thing she wouldn't stand for, it was a man abusing a woman.

Furious grabbed her arm after she took her first step. "It's a pet name, lovely." She allowed him to pull her back.

He held his arms out, opened them wide and yelled. "Brother!"

Leontyne didn't know if Furious knew but she didn't think the man liked him. If she had to go by the look Wallace was throwing her man's way the answer was a definite no. Her head bounced between the two. Different, yet the same. Wallace wasn't as tall as Furious and Furious wasn't as wide. One had red dreadlocks that hung down to his waist and a beard so wild it nearly covered the entirety of his head. Furious beard was short and groomed, his hair was long, but only shoulder length and silky smooth. Wallace was fair of skin, Furious was dark, but both men were solid and strong and looked unmovable but if you looked past the differences you could see the same shaped eyes and nose and mouth. They certainly looked like they could be brothers.

The monstrous creature that entered in clearing hadn't said a word and Leontyne's entire body was bow tight in his presence. It wasn't just his appearance that was unnerving, although his glowing yellow eyes were freaking her out. She wondered where Helena was because she may be their only hope of getting a head start if the shit hit the fan. Furious moved closer to her, until their arms touched. She felt better...a little. She moved her hand, to place it over her belly and then stopped. She didn't want to show any weakness in front of the monster. Now she knew how her father felt all these years. Children are a parent's biggest weakness, but as she lowered her hand back to her side, the other one, her drawing hand, prepared to pull her gun and shoot the great beast. It wouldn't stop him, wouldn't stop her death, but she'd go down fighting because that's how she was raised. She really hoped it wouldn't come down to that.

"I'm Freya by the way," the blond said breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the group. She took a step in Leontyne and Furious direction and Wallace's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

She looked down at his hand, her eyes followed the line of his arm and up to his face. "Release me this instant."

Leontyne smiled. Even as Wallace gaze darkened and his hold remained on her wrist.

"Now," Freya said with a little bass in her voice. In that instant she knew two things, Wallace had probably forbidden her to come with him and she'd refused and that they were going to be good friends.

Wallace hand dropped to his side and he mumbled under his breath as she made her way across the clearing to Leontyne and Furious.

"Don't think I didn't see you draw that gun on me," she said but she was smiling.

"Then don't hit my man in the face with rocks," she said, smiling right back at her.

Yeah, they were going to get along just fine.

### The Twins

### Prologue

The world moves in slow motion, even as the atoms that make-up my physical form approach a state of motion that will surely result in spontaneous combustion. The beat of my heart has worked its way up my throat and thumps along the back of my tongue. My body vibrates as a plethora of emotions stake their claim. Fear...excitement...desire...hunger. The fear makes sense. I should be afraid. Of the situation. Of the eight men fighting so viciously on my front lawn. Of what they are fighting for.

The air is thick with the smells of honeysuckle and fresh cut grass. When I close my eyes I can smell the sweet, pungent aroma of gasoline and that muskiness that only men working long hours in bright noonday heat have, earthy and a little metallic.

Hairs stand at attention on my arms and the nape of my neck. I can feel each punch thrown and landed. They feed me, rile me, and threaten to destroy me.

Yes, fear makes sense. A fear that should have me running and screaming, not rooted with anticipation that has become a physical thing crawling along my skin, and lust that feel like lips upon my neck, my breast, my...

A sound, long and lazy, works its way up my diaphragm, past the heartbeat thick on my tongue and spills from my mouth.

The victor gets me.

I know this.

The fight on my left plays out like an action movie. The one to the right is a kung-fu flick. Both are vicious, the difference only in the deliverance of punishment. The heavy thuds of flesh meeting flesh, the sound of snapping bone and the smell of blood tightens my stomach and things lower. The sounds coming from their throats are not human. I don't care. I'll think of those things later. Two men drag themselves to their feet.

Almost.

Who will win? Who will earn the right to have me? I move, a shift of weight from one foot to the other. Six down, one to go. One man's shirt has been lost, the other hangs from his body in shreds. Chests heaving, muscles taunt and corded. I can see the heartbeat of one in his neck, the pulse strong and steady. The world stands still. I do not breathe. The two face off long enough that an impatient breath escapes me. It clears my head. A little. Shouldn't I be running for cover or at least the telephone to call the police? Six very injured men in varying states of consciousness with at least one broken bone are sprawled out in my yard. The two turn to face me.

Impossible.

### Thursday Night

I burn

It has nothing to do with heat and everything to do with consumption.

A strong hand grips my thigh while the other painfully digs into my right ass-cheek. The pain of the hard hold registers somewhere deep in my subconscious and not in a bad way. I like it—fuck that—I love it. I'd be more attuned with the pain if I were not lost in the most soul-destroying kiss ever to be given or taken. It's a battle of teeth and tongue that I am losing.

A sound that is more growl than moan escapes my partner and the hold (on my thigh and my ass) hardens. The fabric of his jeans is rubbing against my girly-bits just so. He hitches me up the wall, tilts his hips. Surely to god, a club is hidden beneath the denim. The hard seam of his pants rubs against my clit sending electric currents flittering across my skin.

A finger slips inside my panties and breach the most intimate part of me. My body becomes taunt as a finger leaves my core and travel to the unchartered territory of my rear. A thrust of his hips as his finger pushes inside the tight confines of my ass pushes me over the edge I've been teetering for several long minutes and an orgasmic wave that is of tsunami strength washes over me. The kiss ends abruptly when I bury my face in his neck and clamp my teeth on his skin as I ride the pleasure brought on by that wicked finger. The saltiness of his skin is my new favorite taste. When I come down from carnal pleasure never known to me, he release my legs. They drop to the floor and the only thing keeping me standing is his hard body pressing mine to the wall. The kiss changes from hot and heavy to tender. The weight of his body leaves the front of mine and I feel open and exposed, cold even, despite the oven like temperature in the night club's bathroom. Our lips part, our breath mingle as he stares at me. A trick of the light makes his eyes glow.

"Don't move," he whispers. His lips tilt in a sexy grin. His eyes alight with satisfaction.

Move? I'm surprised I can stand. He opens the door and leaves.

I lean my head back and close my eyes, run my tongue over the swollen, tender flesh that are my lips. Who knew spit could taste so good?

I hadn't been in the club two minutes before he was at my side asking for a dance. And boy could he move. My heart was racing and my clothes stuck to my body before the first song ended, before he pulled me from the dance floor, down the short hall and into the men's bathroom. Men buy me drinks, I dance, I talk, I have fun, but I have never, ever, even once, wanted to do anything like this. I should be appalled. I should be offended. I should be pissed. What I am is fucking turned on. The feeling is anything but normal. I've never suffered from instant attraction. I don't believe in love or lust at first sight. I'm not drunk enough for this to be happening, nor have I ever been that drunk, but from the first moment I was intrigued, and horny. Don't get me wrong, I'm not that much of a good-girl, I'm just not that...adventurous. So what is it about this guy?

The door opens putting an end to the analyzing of the moments that led me to this spot. He enters the stall and closes the door gently then locks it. The heat in his eyes holding all the conversation needed. They read like the goddamn Karma Sutra. I've barely recovered from my last orgasm. The look in his face promises at least one more.

"Wait." I say, or maybe I just think I say the word. He's different. Gone is the playfulness I saw twinkling in his eyes moments before and there's a hardness in his features that wasn't there before. Hell, even his eyes seem darker. The two steps it takes to reach me makes me think of a big cat preparing to pounce. The hard stare keeps me rooted even as my heart pick up its pace. I take a step away from the wall. His hand lands on the exposed skin of my chest and he pushes me back. I swallow as he presses the lower part of his body tight to mine, his erection lay thick and long across my belly.

He pushes his hands in my hair. It's a tangled mess, damp with sweat, and his fingers don't go far. The kiss is slow but hard. He licks at my mouth before thrusting his tongue between my lips, as if tasting me. And here I thought the first kiss was something. He kisses down my chin, licks the sweat in the hollow of my throat and the top of my breasts exposed from the skimpy top. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the tile wall and catch my breath—or try to, until I feel cool air hit my thighs.

"Say yes." His voice is low and deep and strained. As if he can barely contain all that wild I see in his eyes. But he will if I say no.

Fuck. That.

I nod because I've lost my words. He relaxes even as his body gets tight at my answer.

"Say it. Say the word," he commands.

"Yes." The single word is barely a whisper.

I look down into the most beautiful hazel eyes and watch spellbound as he lifts my leg and places it across his shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thigh. He pulls my thong aside with a hard yank and devours me. Hard flicks of his tongue on my engorged clit promising a climax in three...two...

The orgasm is a tidal wave...violent and destroying. With no skin to bury my cries or teeth in I yell out. He maneuvers his arms between my legs until I'm straddling his shoulders. He's not a big man, maybe an inch or two taller than me, but my ass is firmly cradled in his hands. He uses his thumbs to open the lips of my sex and fucks me with his tongue. I bite my arm to keep from screaming. I think I might actually die. No one is meant to experience pleasure on this level. What the hell had I agreed to? He allows a single leg to drop to the ground but this is not a reprieve, his tongue is replaced by three fingers as his mouth goes to my over-sensitive clit. He curves his fingers, each hard thrust running across my g-spot as he sucks hard. I'm powerless to stop the sound that escapes me and keep coming until my vocal cords threaten to rupture. He kisses the inside of my thigh, my body jerk with each soft land of lips on my skin. He stands and takes my mouth, a kiss flavored with the tang of my release. Like every aspect of this second encounter it's dominating, all consuming, hard and claiming.

### **-**

I walk out of the stall fully expecting to see the stranger but I'm alone. I understand that the men's room doesn't get as much action as the women's but I hadn't expected to be alone. I don't dare take longer than a quick peek at myself in the mirror on my way to the door. Thank God I don't bump into anyone as I leave the restroom. Even the space across the hall leading into the lady's room is blessedly bare. I make a bee-line for the exit.

I scan the area around the bar, the booths and tables closest to me and the bodies on the perimeter of the dance floor on my way to the front door, but I don't spot him anywhere. I didn't even get his name, which makes what happened in the bathroom all the more trashy. It seems the orgasms unleashed some mutant version of me. I'm damn near violent. I'm seconds away from hunting his ass down, but decide to leave before I end up fucking him somewhere more public—like the middle of the dance floor. I shoulder my way through the crowd and escape without seeing him. I'm both relieved and disappointed. I can barely believe what just happened. I struggle to make sense of it. Good or bad, my mind may have mixed emotions but my body is humming a happy tune that I try and fail to ignore. I'm too old and too modern to beat myself up too badly, but have just enough good home-training not to feel a little bit slutty.

It's late, nearly two in the morning, but I decide to walk home, needing the fresh air to clear my head. It's been a year since my last sexual encounter and up until now my vibrator has been an excellent substitution. Tonight I ache.

I leave the populated strip of clubs and restaurants and enter tree-lined streets where houses are locked up tight and dark for the night. I've lived in the neighborhood for two years and I fall in love a little bit more every time I walk it. I hear footsteps behind me and curiosity more than fear turns my upper-body. A man passes under the street light a block back, head down, his hands stuffed in his pockets; he's a thousand miles away, deep in thought. I turn around and continue on. The adult school looms ahead, its three blocks from my house. A second person approaches on the opposite side of the street ahead of me. We acknowledge each other the way strangers do: with a dip of our heads. A block away from my house another stranger appears to my left and finally an alarm start sounding. I've walked late at night before and encountered people, mostly men, and never have I thought of my safety until now. I look over my shoulder. Three men are behind me. I try to talk myself out of unfounded fright. Nevertheless, I grip my keys, working them between my fingers. I'm praying for robbery by the time I step off the curb, three houses away from the safety of my front door. A sound, low and ominous, comes from behind me. Was that growling? That's it. Unfounded or not, I take off running and like dogs, so do the men behind me.

I take my stairs two at a time but turn instead of fumbling with my fistful of keys when the sound of fighting becomes thunder. Where the hell have all these people come from? I'm rooted to my porch as what can only be describe as a damn MMA free-for-all takes place in my yard. It's a no-holds-barred, teeth and eye-gouging allowed, savage fight.

I can't tear my eyes off of it, even when I hear the breaking of bones. Two of the fighters are down, dead or unconscious, six remain. The men are in two groups of three. For no reason at all I think: They're fighting over me. I watch and try to figure out who the victor will be. Did I favor one over the other? The street light is at the end of the block and the moon is hidden behind clouds, but even in near perfect darkness I see they are all fine specimens.

One of the outnumbered men swings around and kicks an opponent man in his head and the second gets kicked in the chest before he lowers his leg from the first kick. He straightens and delivers a series of quick punches to the man who'd been kicked first. He grabs the second man's arm when he throws a punch, ducks under it, twisting it until it breaks, then swings the man around, using the broken arm, into the other fighter. The two men fall to the ground. Even with a broken arm the man rises from the ground, his arm hanging useless at his side.

On the other side is a bare-knuckle brawl. Hard hits landing in meaty thuds is the sound of the evening. I lick my lips as I watch the savage display of dominance. My skin is tight, my body over-heated, I can't move, I can't to do anything but watch. The man on the left finally knocks out one of his opponents and the one left is almost a foot taller. It makes no difference, the smaller fighter has skill and speed and he hands the bigger man his ass until he slips. I hold my breath, for reasons unknown to me, but before the taller man can take advantage of the fall the fighter is not only up but delivers a well-placed upper cup that knocks the bigger man out. That leaves two.

They face me.

Twins.

Identical.

Fuck.

I don't fumble with my keys. The first one in the lock is the right one. I run for the phone but before I dial a single digit I hear police sirens and head for the window instead. I reach it just as the black and white car come to a screeching halt in front of my house. No one is dead, all the men are standing, although two of the challengers are holding a man up and one is cradling his broken arm. The policeman gets out, weapon drawn, a tense moment goes by as the men explain...what, I have no idea. A second car arrives and now the night is bright with flashing lights. People slowly start coming outside. The police talk to the men that fought like Vikings in my front yard. The conversation is too low for me to hear over the running police cruisers and the occasional crackle of their radios. But it soon becomes evident that no one's going to jail. I watch in disbelief as the cops lower their weapons and shocked further more when one of them chuckle. Soon an ambulance arrives, followed by a second and the man with the broken arm is helped into the first while the one sandwiched between two others is loaded into the second. I should go outside, right? But what would I say? Should I say they were following me, chased me to my front steps? No. I continue to watch from the safety of my living room. More people are now standing on porches and a few late-night strollers have stopped on the corner.

The ambulances leaves first, pedestrians continue their way, the porch dwellers return to their homes and as the last police car pulls away so do the last of the spectators. The remaining men speak briefly. I watch, my mouth dropping open and my chin hitting my chest when those beaten bow to the two victors. They leave. The twins stay. I see red.

Those motherfuckers.

I watch with squinted eyes as they walk up my sidewalk, climb the stairs and actually knock on my door.

"Open the door."

Desire I don't understand hits me like a Mack truck. It runs down my thighs. My door is thrown open because I hadn't locked it. Are you fucking kidding me?

"Leave, now." My voice is an octave deeper. I'm pissed off to the highest level of pisstivity. I don't wait for them to leave my house; I leave the room, possibly to look for weapons.

"No."

It's not a spin. I turn as if my body is submerged in thick molasses. What. The. Fuck. I still don't have their names, but I look at one, my hard lover. I quickly correct the thought. Neither of these deceiving, disturbed, twisted, sick, asshole, bastards are mine. What they've done is...is...

"GET OUT!" I scream.

"I know you can feel it," the hard one says and takes a step forward. I instantly take one back. Running? Hell, yes, because I _can_ feel it. I throw up my hand when he opens his mouth to speak.

Soft lover places a hand on the shoulder of the other. "Let her catch her breath."

Catch my breath...catch my breath...like I've run a race and not tagged-team by a couple of...

I start to hyperventilate.

Maybe catching my breath isn't such a bad idea. I reach out, not asking for assistance, more like trying to break an impending fall. My palm slaps naked flesh. I look down the length of my arm until I make it to my hand and then look at the forearm of the man I'm holding on to.

"Get out," I say, and this time it's not yelled, or screamed, it's growled. Low and deep, like far away thunder that promises the storm of the century.

"Her parents must be born wolves, powerful ones at that," the one next to me says, so close his words breezes across my skin.

I need them to leave. I need room. To breathe, to think, to let the shock of it all to either consume me, or so I can absorb it and deal.

I flee.

I pace the small space provided in the bathroom. Ten wide steps from wall to tub, fifteen shorter ones. My chest moves slowly from forced deep breathing even as my heart flutters. I don't hear a sound from the other room, but I know they're standing there, almost touching the solid wood door. I spot my cordless on the counter, grateful I'm weird enough to want a phone in the john, and pick it up.

Calling the police doesn't cross my mind. My fingers are on autopilot as they dance across the buttons.

"Nicole?"

My relationship with my mother is complicated. There was no abuse or anything, we're not estranged, we speak on the phone a couple of times a week, she visits often, and we love each other, but we're just vastly different people.

"Nicole?" she says again and this time there's not concern but fear in her voice.

I move to the furthest corner of the bathroom away from the door. "Mother." I whisper. I sound scared. I should, because I am. "Mom," I say again.

"Oh, God, what's wrong?"

I can hear her sitting up. What time is it? I look at the window in the bathroom. It's made out of that cloudy, wavy privacy glass so I can't see out but I can tell it's still dark.

"We would never hurt you Nicole."

I look at the door.

"Talk to me, baby," mom's says. Her voice is frantic.

"I'm alright," I say,

But am I? How can I be? There are two strangers inside my house and the only thing that's separating us is a bathroom door—solid wood—and wait for it—unlocked. I'm an idiot. I close my eyes and shake my head at my own stupidity. I take a deep breath and as I exhale I know, with all certainty, that they have spoken the truth. They won't hurt me.

"I'm alright," I say again, a little louder. I close the lid on the toilet and sit down.

"What's the matter Nicole, you're scaring me."

"I...I..." It's all I can get out. The situation is too strange. I don't know where to start.

"I'm on my way."

I stare at the phone for long moments until the annoying siren-like noise announce an empty line.

I have no sense of time. Have no idea how long I'm in the bathroom, but too soon I hear the sound of a car door. Retreating footsteps pulls me to the bathroom door and I open it. I open it wider when I don't see anyone. I go to the window. The man walking up my walkway is big. He looks like a giant, more so when he comes to a stop in front of the two men that have finally left my house.

"Who are you?" The voice is like a couple of boulders rolling down a hill. I can almost feel the ground shaking beneath my feet. "More importantly, who are you to the girl in the house."

"Her mate," I hear them say together.

The big man throws out twin punches, tagging each man in the face.

### Friday Morning

To my surprise the double punches are the only ones thrown. The three stand like statues looking at each other in the longest game of stare in the history of man. They're still facing off when the sun comes up and my mother arrives. The cab pulls up and she steps out. Flawlessly dressed. The big man finally leaves the two as he go to her. If anyone can hire muscle long distance, in a pinch, it's my mother. I frown when they exchanged a quick hug. My mother and the newcomer approach the two men standing on the sidewalk. His gravel voice travels when he says, "They claim to be Nicky's mate."

Nicky? No one has ever called me anything other than my full name. My mother made sure of it. I leave the window and go to the door.

"What in the hell is going on?" I ask, stepping out onto my porch.

My mother heads up the walk. The big man follows, the two smaller follow him.

"Don't even think about it," I say, pointing to the two that started this mess and eyeing the massive man my mother sent.

"Nicole, I think it's best if we all go inside and talk."

"No one gets in my house until someone tells me what in the hell is going on."

My mother looks over her shoulder and up. "Nicole, this is Jeffrey Sullivan...your father."

I take a step back and my mouth falls open. I think about going back into the bathroom but head for the living room instead. The people congregated on my doorstep take advantage of my retreat. I sit down on the couch and stare open mouthed at a man who has to duck his damn head to enter the room. How big is he? The expanse of his chest takes up twice as much surface area as the two that enter behind him.

"Nicole, why didn't you tell me you'd found your wolf?" my mother asks.

I don't answer mainly because I don't understand the question. Found? Hell, I didn't know it was lost. I remember one of the two babbling something about my parents being strong wolves. But I was coming off the drug they'd slipped me in their game of debauchery. I mean, what else could it have been? The emotions and feelings I had in the club and again while watching the fight.

"My darling, please, speak to me."

"How...why," I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and clear my thoughts. "But you left us, you left me,' I finally say. I peel my eyes from the giant and finally lay eyes on my mother. "You told me you didn't know where he was? Why would you do that?"

"I wanted you to have a normal life, one that didn't include their world."

"Their world," I say.

"Yes, of the werewolf."

My head starts moving from side to side as I reject the words. I stand, still shaking my head. "Get out." I say, surprise that my voice is even. "All of you, now."

"She's a new wolf?" one of the two says. He pulls his hands through his hair, lifting it to the top of his head, bunching it up and slipping an elastic tie around it. The top knot looks incredibly sexy.

"So powerful," the other says.

None of this is making sense. I laugh at the understated thought. It's fucking insane.

"Nicky—" the man starts.

"Shut up," I say.

"Nicole," my mother scolds. Ladies aren't supposed to use such language. Well, she and Emily Post can kiss my high-yellow ass. This is fucked up.

"Why would you do that to me?" I ask again since her first answer isn't good enough. Not by a long shot.

"In your mother's defense, it was highly unlikely you'd turn after your second birthday. She waited until after that to take you from the pack."

"I never would have left if I thought there was a chance one day you'd become like your father."

"No," I say calmly. I get up and go to the kitchen. I need normalcy in this fucked up dream.

I make coffee.

"Please talk to us," Mother says from behind me.

I feel jittery, but my hands are steady as I pull the coffee tin from the cabinet. "No."

"She's in heat," the man, my father, Jeffrey, says.

Heat?

"Shut up!" I scream. "Get out!"

"We cannot," the twins say together.

"You most certainly can," I counter. The stare off between the three of us begins.

"You must have a thousand questions. I'm sorry you were alone. But I'm here now, to help you through your transition," Jeffrey says.

"Stop saying that," I yell. "I'm not a goddamn werewolf."

"Darling, put down the knife."

Was she talking to me? I look at my hand, and yep, I've plucked a nice long blade from the butcher's block on my countertop. I put it back. I open a drawer, pull out a spoon and dump heaping scoops into the French press before filling the kettle with water. I turn on the stove and keep my back to the roomful of people. They remain quiet behind me. Good. I'm about half a second from cracking up. The kettle goes off. I make coffee.

"May I have a cup?" The twin whose hair is still around his shoulders asks.

"Sure," I answer.

As long as he's not talking nonsense, I'm willing to be civil. Besides, it doesn't seem like anyone is going anywhere. I take a second cup from the cabinet and turn to the room.

"Anyone else?"

"I'll have some, thank you," sexy top-knot says.

"Me too," Jeffery adds.

I pull out a fifth cup and tea-strainer ball and pull out a can of Earl Grey Breakfast tea from the cabinet for my mother. I pour cream in the container that matches the sugar dish already on the counter. Everyone makes their coffee and tea in silence. I blow mine and then take a hot mouthful. Nothing like the first sip of coffee after a long night. I walk past the people on my way to the living room and sit on the couch. My mother takes a chair caddy-corner to me, Jeffrey takes the seat next to her. The twins remain standing. They let me drink half my coffee before they start in again. But the questions are not aimed at me, so I'm okay with it...for now.

"Would either of you like to explain why you think both of you are her mate?" Jeffrey asks.

"She has called my wolf," they say in eerie synchronization. They look at each other and something passes between them.

"What are your names," I ask.

Heads turns, all but Jeffrey, he's giving the men the evil eye.

"I am Tristan," top knot says, placing a hand over his heart and bow from the waist.

"Titus," loose hair says.

Is it me or is he mean-mugging me? What the hell? There's no reason for him to be mad at me, but his eyes are tight and so is his jaw.

Tristan, the soft one, lays a hand on Titus's shoulder. The man relaxes. A little.

"You're mated wolves," my mother says. "I can see your marks."

I look at the two. Titus is still shirtless and Tristan's still hangs from his body. See their marks? Who couldn't see them? Each man sported welts and bruises from the fright and scars from long ago battles.

"Tristan and I are a mated pair," Titus says.

Jeffrey is up and out of his chair before the R fades in pair. "What's the meaning of this?" He bellows. I wince. His voice vibrates my bones. "What kind of sick game do you play with my daughter?"

I nod in agreement.

"We are as shocked as you, and there is no game afoot, sir. She calls to our wolves, Tristan's and mine."

He turns as he says the last. From the glare I'm getting it's safe to say he's mad, nay, furious. Wait...who says _afoot_ in modern times? Who cares when the person saying it has the world's sexiest voice? I drop my eyes, looking at my coffee cup, but averting eyes doesn't stop that menacing stare from landing on my skin like a lover's warm hands. I know his hands, and his lips. I know them both. It was Tristan's fingers digging into the fleshy part of my ass, and probably bruised my thighs and Titus' mouth between them. I blush at the memory. Then become angry. Those motherfuckers.

"Then you are not a true mated pair," my mother says.

"We are," both men say together.

"Soooo, incest is acceptable within the werewolf culture." I say, lifting my eyes and it's not googly eyes I give them. I turn to my mother. "No wonder you wanted me out of there."

"They're not brothers."

"We're not brother."

The three of them, Jeffrey, Titus and Tristan, say together.

I look at one and then the other, there are no differences between them that I can see. They look identical.

"How do you know?" I ask.

"Their scent," Jeffrey says.

"Of course," I say, getting up from the couch. With three extra people to partake in my caffeine fix I have to make a second press of coffee. They wait patiently for me. I don't offer any refills. I have to turn sideways when I pass Tristan and Titus to avoid touching them. But I can feel the charge, the attraction even without physical touch, as if our skin is trying to connect. The feeling dances along my skin like static electricity, raising fine hairs, and giving me goose-bumps.

When I'm seated I nod to the room and say, "Continue."

My mother starts, asking my father, "Have you ever heard of mated wolves..." she pauses, "taking a third?"

"Never," three men answer.

"Then what's going on?" She asks.

"I'm not sure, but I plan on finding out and until I do, you two can stay the hell away from my daughter."

His daughter? I laugh. "Sorry." I say when everyone looks at me.

"She is meant for us, and we for her." They announce in spooky unison

"Come again," I say, raising my eyebrow.

"A true mated pair of wolves are destined to be together. They are the missing half of the other. Sometimes, even death is not enough to break the bond," Jeffrey explains.

"Nicole," Titus's voice is not as deep as Jeffrey's, but my eyes focus on his face at the command and the tightness ease in my chest.

"What have you done to me?" I ask, freaking out all over again because of the strange calm that washes over me like warm water. All from a look and tone in a complete stranger's voice. "Is this because of what the two of you did last night?"

Everything stills, even the air seem to have stopped.

"What exactly did they do last night," Jeffrey says and stands, towering over the two men.

"We allowed you to strike us earlier out of respect, there will be no second," Titus says.

The room is stuffy—strike that—the room is hot. The air is thick, sweat pops out on my brow.

"What's happening," I ask. The three continue to look at each other. They're about to throw down. "No fighting in my house."

Jeffrey's weighing his options and right now he's thinking he has a shot.

"You are not alpha to our wolves," Titus says.

A few tense moments go by. Jeffrey finally says, "I think it's best if you leave."

"No," they say together.

This has got to stop. I take a breath in through my nose, hold it and exhale very slowly. I put my coffee cup down and stand.

"Okay, I've had enough of this shit," I say looking at the posturing men. I set my sights on the two who only look like twins. "I need you to leave."

Tristan takes a single step. I fight my feet from moving. Not in retreat, but in the direction of the man. Out of all the things I've learned this morning, it's the strange attraction, the pull of the two that is the scariest. Jeffrey shifts his weight in the direction of the advancing man. He stops.

"Sit and listen to your parents. Let them explain and then call us."

"We're leaving on Friday next, you have until then to contact us," Titus adds.

Tristan tries for a second step but Jeffrey moves, blocking him from view. Titus makes a move, ready to fight if the bigger man so much as lays a finger of the smaller but Tristan holds up a hand.

"You would leave her," Jeffrey huffs. "I thought you said she was your mate."

"Our alpha has called us back to pack. Friday next is us postponing our departure, but we must answer the call."

Jeffrey nodded, it seemed respectful.

"Mr. Sullivan, how long will you be in town," Tristan asks.

"None of your business."

After a brief tense moment Tristan leans around the man standing in front of him. Jeffrey is a sight. So strong and hard he looks infallible.

"We regret to have met you under these circumstances." When he looks at me I see the truth in his words. Jeffrey walks them to the door, leaving me with my mother. I look at her. I'm so...so...there are no words.

"I'm going to bed, it's been a long night," I announce.

"Nicole, you know we have to talk about this," she says standing.

I turn, I let her see the disappointment and anger in my face and stop the next words she was about to utter. Then enter my bedroom. I lock the door and climb into bed fully clothed. I don't think about it. Hard to believe, but I've been good at shutting down since I was a kid, and that's what I do. I think of space...a black void...and I'm asleep in no time.

### Friday Evening

The knock at the door is unwelcomed. I drag myself from bed because I know my mother. She's relentless. I cross the room and open the door. She looks worried but she at least moves so I can pass. Jeffrey is standing in the living room looking like he's not sure what to do. That makes two of us. I sit on the sofa.

"Why?" I ask. When no one answers the generic question I get a little bit more specific, looking at my mother. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't agree with their lifestyle."

"That's putting it mildly," Jeffrey says.

"Why did you tell me he left us?" I say.

"I was a young girl when I met your father."

"And..."

"Your father shared with me soon after our first date what he is. He told me and then showed me his animal." She stops long enough to look at Jeffrey. "It wasn't fright that kept me seated. He was beautiful. I fell in love that day, with the man and the beast."

"Then why did you leave him?" I ask. If anyone looked at me the way Jeffrey was looking at her, wild horses couldn't drag me away.

"There were lots of reasons."

"You were scared," Jeffrey says hotly.

"You treat women like property," my mother says just as hotly.

"That's not true, women are cherish, put above all else."

"Says the man who is worshipped like a god."

"Explain to me mating," I say before Jeffrey's head explodes.

It's his turn for some deep breathing and I wonder if it's a trait I got from him or something my mother drove us both to. Either way, I think it's cute, and under other circumstances I would smile. Currently I'm too disappointed in them both to curve my lips.

"A traditional mating is not unlike a human marriage, only permanent if both people are wolves and share bites. But a mated pair of wolves are the greatest of treasures. When they find each other it is a thing to be cherished...honored."

We're all quiet for a handful of ticks. I stare at him. He's massive and handsome, in that man's man way, you know the one. It tells you that he'll have no qualms kicking ass first and not giving a damned about questions. He's the alpha of his pack, but in the human world he is also an alpha-male.

"And you two are a set—a pair of mated wolves?" I ask and while I want to know the answer, I dread it. He doesn't answer, just nods. "How could she...just leave?"

"She refused my mark."

"Mark?"

"His bite," my mother clarifies.

"Oh."

It's all I had.

"So those two. They want to bite me."

"Among other things," Jeffrey says.

I know it's my father saying the words but I'm powerless not to squirm in my seat at the thought of other things. If what they did to me in the bathroom is a precursor of what is to come I'm not sure I'll survive.

"Don't be obscene, Jeffrey," my mother say. "They want to mark you, claim you, control you in every way." She looks at Jeffrey. "And once bitten, you will be their slave."

"That is not true," Jeffrey says sighing, he stops looking at me and turn his gaze on my mother. "All lesser wolves have to obey the command of the alpha, not just women or mates."

"There's a reason man has freewill."

"And look what freewill has gotten mankind."

It's an old argument. I watch them go at it for a minute or so before I say, "Why didn't you come to me?"

I feel like we're at that part of the story where I should cry. Maybe ask why I wasn't good enough to fight for? Why he agreed with my crazy mother and abandoned me. Instead I'm just curious.

He takes a breath and when he exhales he seems smaller, defeated...sad.

"What?" I ask.

Dread builds in my gut. Not wanting to know what Jeffrey is unwilling to say and needing to just the same.

"The bite or mating mark shared between wolves bind them forever. Alpha wolves can issue commands that have to be obeyed, but by all wolves, not just mates."

"So you can make someone like...rob a bank or kill someone?" I ask.

"No, absolutely not. An alpha's command doesn't robs a person of freewill. It's an exertion of power from an alpha and the submission of a beta, an omega or subordinate wolf."

"And there are no female alphas?"

He shook his head. "None that I know of or ever heard of but there are strong female wolves. They can outrank a male within the pack but I've never known a male wolf to marry a female that outranks him or his beast."

"You haven't told me why you didn't come for me."

Jeffrey looks at my mother who studies her hands. The moment makes my gut churn. Whatever it is, it's bad. Life altering bad. When she remains silent Jeffrey looks back at me.

"Your mother hid you from me."

My jaw drops and my eyes instantly fill with tears I'm powerless to stop.

"What?"

Clearly I'd misheard. Even as the tears running down my cheeks say differently. I turn to my mother.

"Why?"

"It's complicated, Nicole," is all the defense she offers.

So I turn back to Jeffrey. "How long? How long did she keep me from you?"

The words were spoken as soft as his voice allowed. "Seven years. You were ten when I found you."

Found me?

"For a male, nothing comes before their mate, sometimes not even their children. You have all the power."

"Stop being ridiculous," Mother says.

"Ridiculous!" Jeffrey roars. He stands up, towers above my mother, who has the decency to flinch, even as she meets his stormy gaze. "You steal my firstborn and call me ridiculous," he says through clenched teeth. His fists are at his side and every muscle is taut. "How long did I beg and plead? How long have I tried to be a part of Nicky's life? She's my daughter too," he says before turning to me. "I tried. I love you. Every day has been hell without the two of you. You can never know how it feels...the worry, the regret...the helplessness. It's like a limb missing."

"I'm so sorry," I say, wiping my cheeks.

My mother's controlling, and even that doesn't do justice to just how absolute she can be. I hate her a little bit right now. For what she's done to Jeffrey, me, our family.

"I still don't understand," I say, focusing on the parent I didn't feel like throwing out of my house. "Why didn't you come to me when you found me?"

"Nothing had changed. You were ten and I agreed with Teresa that it would be too upsetting for you if I simply popped back into your life. Not when I knew I would tell you everything. Like I said as long as she's safe and happy, I can deny her nothing."

"I see," I turn to my mom. When I speak the words are full of facetiousness. "And you're happy?"

My mother straightened her posture, "Of course."

"So why didn't you ever remarry? Why have you never dated, I haven't seen you with a single man...ever. And what about my happiness?"

"You've wanted for nothing."

Typical mother, as if things were what mattered most in the world.

"I've wanted my father," I said.

She looks pained. Good.

"I can't undo that wrong," she says.

I stand. "Get out."

"Nicole."

Nicky."

But I'm headed back to my bedroom, where I stop in the doorway.

"I didn't beg or plead, but I cried and I hurt for the father you stole from me. We haven't talked about it in a long time but that doesn't mean I didn't think about him or wonder about him or and miss him. When I asked, you were vague. Refusing to give me anything but the barest glimpse of who he was as a person or father, only saying he was a good man. Well, he might forgive you, but I'm not mated to you. Get out."

I close and lock the door. My mother is right, I've wanted for nothing, if material things are what you want. And I won't lie, they are. I'd like to think it's because I've been raised with them. But I could have been just as happy with less.

"Nicole," my mother calls from the other side of the door.

She's persistent but she won't win on this. If she breaks the door down I'm leaving. I don't have anything to say to her.

### Saturday Afternoon

I wake several times and go back to sleep when I hear my mother lingering. I'm determined to wait her out. If she's not gone when I'm ready to come out of my room I'm leaving. Finally, she leaves and I wonder what Jeffrey had to do pull that miracle off. Maybe she sees that she's finally crossed a line.

I've lived alone for the last two years and never once felt lonely, today I feel like a piece of me is missing. And it isn't just the newfound father either. I stand in the threshold leading to my small den and see Jeffrey, Titus and Tristan. Three men I didn't know but miss. Jeffrey made sense, my feelings for the other two are an enigma. Sighing deeply I push off the doorjamb and head for the kitchen. I haven't eaten since Thursday. I'm starved.

On the counter next to the sink is a note from Jeffrey. It isn't his invitation to visit, or apology and promises for a bright and better tomorrow that weigh my limbs. Beneath Jeffrey's number, I'm sure written reluctantly, is a second number. No name is next to it and none is needed. I don't pick up the note, I leave it on the counter and reach for the cordless. I'm nervous but I dial it anyway and hold my breath as the phone rings. Once.

"Nicole."

My name has never ran across my body like a caress. I'm left speechless in its deliverance.

"Nick."

Difference voice, different name, I suffer the same effect. Am I on speaker? A shuddering breath escapes me. I tighten my grip on the phone and think about hanging up.

"Don't hang up," They say together.

"What's happening to me?" I ask.

"You're our mate," they say.

"I don't understand."

"Your father didn't explain,' Tristan asks.

My entire life was nothing but a big fat lie, because the major bits, the most important parts had been omitted. I'm angry at my mother all over again.

"Your parents are not mated?" Titus says, before I can answer.

"How do you know?"

"Your mother is not marked," he answers.

"You mean bitten?"

"That's right.

"I thought that would be more vampire than werewolf," I say and let loose an uncomfortable chuckle.

"The bite is not to feed," Tristian says.

"Although the taste of a mate's blood is...exquisite." Titus growls into the phone.

I squirmed because that's the effect he has on me, even over the damn phone.

"It's a mark to show ownership," Titus adds.

"Ownership?"

"It tells other wolves you are taken," Tristan again.

And you two...you belong to each other?" I asks. Now I'm uncomfortable. If they were lovers where would that leave me?

"We do," Titus says.

"We love each other," Tristan says and I can almost see him petting Titus. I get the feeling Tristan is Titus's buffer. The lone thing that can reel him in.

"I get it," I say, "I just...this is all so confusing and new and..." I stop and swallow. "And scary."

"I can only imagine," Tristan says.

I lean against my countertop and take a breath. In twenty-four hours my life has turned into something you'd find in the complete works of Grimm's and right now I'm seriously doubting the happily ever after.

"What do I do?" I ask because I have no clue where to start.

"Go to your father." they both say together.

My grip tightens on the phone, not because of what they've told me. It makes sense. I mean really, I not only want, but I need to see my father. But...

"What about you?" I ask. The question barely a whisper.

"There's time?" Tristan says.

"No much."

"There's time?" he repeats.

I have to believe him. What else can I do?

"Nicole, go visit with your father. There's much you need to know and see," Titus says. "What we want...what we need, cannot be entered into blindly."

"Titus," Tristan says in the same soft comforting voice.

"Tis true, Tristan."

"Yes, but still..."

"No buts," Titus interrupts. "Go to your father and then come to us so that we can show you what your new life will be like...should you accept us."

"Okay," I say.

I hang up the phone feeling hollowed out. I'm not prepared for this shit. I call the second number and the line is answered just as quickly as the first.

"Nicky."

The relief is obvious. I laugh a little when I say, "You didn't except me to call?"

"Hopeful, but not overly optimistic. The rug was ripped from beneath your feet."

"You're not just whistling Dixie," I say, going to the small eating area in my kitchen and sitting at a table with only two chairs. Where would Titus sit? I think. And then push the thought away. It's way too soon to think along those lines.

"I've dreamt of this day for what seems like an eternity," Jeffrey says when seconds approach a minute with nothing but silence on the line.

"Me too," I say and I have. It's true I stopped asking my mother about my father and consciously, I thought about him very little, but I did dream of him. I laugh.

"What's funny," he ask.

"You look just like I imagined?"

"You remembered me?"

"Maybe," I say, softly. "Probably. You are always impossibly big in my dreams. I thought it was because all fathers are giants in the eyes of their daughters but now...I think my dreams were memories, not fantasies."

"Nicky...I'm so sorry," he says and the sadness in his voice is enough to melt the coldest, hardest heart. Except my mothers. Maybe she doesn't have one.

"Me too. All we can do is go forward—right?"

"Yes," he says. He sounds both relieved and happy.

"I'd like to come visit,"

"When," he says, and I swear I can see him spring from his seat.

"Soon...tomorrow," I say standing myself. Already my mind is forming a list of things to do before I leave.

"Okay, I'll make all the arrangements. Give me—ten minutes," he says and hangs up.

I laugh at his excitement and then laugh harder at my own. The phone rings before I can even lower my arm.

"Sorry," he says.

"It's alright" I say still laughing.

"I'll call you right back."

And he hangs up again.

I rush to pack.

### Sunday Morning

One step into the muggy atmosphere and I swear I can actually chew the air. It's that thick. I'm seriously considering getting back on the plane when I see a man waving at me. I wave back. I have no idea who he is, but it's the polite thing to do.

"Wow, you look just like the rest," he shouts over the jet's engines when I reach the bottom of the staircase.

"The rest," I ask. I think about Tristan and Titus.

"Yeah, the alpha's kids, Nadia, Nahla and Niko."

No one told me there were more, but Jeffrey had said _first born._. My dad sure has a thing for N names.

"I'm Nicholas, no relation," he says when I give him the eyebrow. "The alpha is settling a pack matter."

Nicholas looks like the ink on his driver's license is still wet. It doesn't help that I'm taller, either. He's adorable, even in his threadbare t-shirt and rumbled pants. His hair is disheveled, and not styled to look that way. I think he may have been taking a nap when my father call to ask him to swing by the airport to pick me up and he simply rolled out of bed, grabbed a pair of pants and shirt from the growing stack of dirty clothes piled in the corner and hit the road.

"Well, thanks for the lift."

Jeffrey had called back in five minutes not ten. I was surprised when he told me I'd be taking a private plane the next morning. We didn't spend a lot of time on the phone, too much to do before I had to leave. I 'm staying a week but packed light and only have a carry on. Considering who raised me, I'm proud of myself. On a week's trip my mother would have busted out her entire set of Louis Vuitton luggage, including the trunks. Nicholas takes the handle of the carry-on and rolls it in the direction of a much loved truck. He opens the door for me, pitches the luggage in the bed on his way around to the driver's side and climbs in.

"So, what's the four-one-one," I ask, when we're far enough away from the runway to be heard without yelling.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. I just met my father for the first time forty-eight hours ago."

The perfect O his lips form makes me laugh and makes him look that much younger.

"That's wild," he finally manages.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I didn't know I had sisters?"

Sisters. My head spins with the new knowledge. I wasn't nervous about spending time with Jeffrey but at the thought of meeting half-siblings my palms are suddenly sweaty.

"What?!" he says, his eyes darting from the road to me.

I shake my head, "Nope, until a few minutes ago I thought I was an only child."

"Wow," he says. "Okay..." he runs his hands through his hair. "This is so above my pay-grade," he says. "Where to start?"

He's so cute that I might just have to sit on my hands to stop myself from pinching his cheeks. I watch in silence as he rubs his chin and really try to figure out where to start the story. I wait patiently because hey, it's been twenty years, what's a few more minutes?

"So, you dad is our alpha, his father was the alpha before that and his father before that. He's good, and just and takes care of us all."

Nicholas looks at me from the corner of his eye. Like he expects me to contradict him. I keep my mouth shut. I have no idea what type of man my father is. I've come with an open mind and heart. I won't let my mother's mistake cloud my judgment.

"Go on."

I take in the scenery while Nicholas fills me in on the life I would've had if my mother hadn't left. Every time I think about her I get angry. Up until yesterday I didn't think she was capable of making a careless or reckless decision but what she's done to me and to Jeffrey is the very epitome of irresponsible. It wasn't like she was a young girl that found herself knocked up after a night of heavy-petting gone wrong. My mother had been close to damn near thirty when she had me and admitted to knowing full well what my father was before she decided to get pregnant. And just how the hell did she end up in this patch of nowhere special?

The drive from the airport so far features small, neat houses on lots landscaped with flowering trees and walkways lined with boxwood hedges. The road is narrow, shaded by the branches of large hardwoods growing on both sides. Hell, we've only driven through one stop light. I can't imagine my mother liking it here. She's a city girl. I was raised in a penthouse; we didn't even have house plants.

When Nicholas turns into a gated neighborhood he says, "The entire neighborhood is pack."

"Every person in this neighborhood is part of Jeffrey's pack," I ask. It looks like a pretty big neighborhood.

"You seem surprised."

"Well, I guess I am. I mean, isn't it weird that almost the entire pack is well off."

Nicholas laughs. A good alpha will make sure that all are provided for."

"So my father pays for all this," I say stunned.

"Of course not, every adult works and all money is combined. The alpha spends it for the good of the pack."

"So every person just hands over their money. What about the people who make more or less." I say. Shocked does not cover the expression on my face.

"We are pack, we are one," Nicholas says, sounding very Stepford wife-y. "Most packs live in communal units. It is the responsibility of a strong wolf to protect a weaker one."

And everyone goes along with this?"

Before Nicholas answers he pulls into the drive of a two story, red brick house with large white columns and cuts the engine. He turns to me, one arm propped on the steering wheel the other across the back of the seat before he speaks.

"Funny how the most 'evolved' species is the one that's most fucked up," he says, moving his hands long enough to make air quotes. "Our kind was hunted and massacred in the old world. Beast...abominations, yet, we have always taken care of our own. Pack is your strength when you are weak, your shelter when you are cold, your food when you are hungry, and your medicine when you are sick. There is no I or you, there is only pack." He brings his hands together, lace together his fingers until a single fist is formed. "So tightly bound that there is no beginning or end, we are one."

I've been schooled by a kid that doesn't look old enough to shave. He didn't drink the Kool-Aid, he _is_ the Kool-Aid.

The sound of a door opening at my back breaks the intense moment. I turn as a middle-aged woman steps out onto the porch. The girl bringing up the rear is her daughter. My sister. We have the same eyes, same nose, her mouth is her mother's. I climb from the truck in slow motion.

"It's so good to see you again, Nicole," the woman says. I turn my head and give the regal looking woman my attention. "I'm Rebecca, Accalia of the Wind Song Pack."

"Wolf Queen," Nicholas translates from behind me.

That explains it.

"Hello," I say, not recognizing the sound that leaves my throat, too quiet, too airy, too intimidated.

Rebecca walks off the porch and surprises me with a hug. I hug her back. She smells like my mother. "You look so like I remember Teresa when she left the pack."

"You know my mother?" I ask.

"Of course, we were best friends." She laughs when my mouth drops open. "This is my daughter, Nadia."

If looks could kill I'd be road-kill. Okay, what's her problem?

"She's afraid you've come to claim your spot as first born," Rebecca answers my unasked question. "The most honored and cherished daughter of the alpha."

Honored and cherished? Impossible. I don't even remember this place. How could I be most anything? The tinge of anger that I've kept in check since finding out my mother had lied to me about my father flares and now includes Jeffrey. He'd spent most of a night explaining werewolves to me, and as far as I can tell, is ready to pick up like I've been away at summer camp for a few weeks and not missing from his life for twenty years, but you think he would have mentioned sisters. Nadia, forever known as Ms. Bitch, looks at me like I'm shit on the bottom of her shoe. She turns and walks back in the house without so much as a fuck you..

"Is she always like that?" I ask when the shock of such rudeness wears off enough for me to speak.

"Yes," Rebecca sighs.

She grabs my hand and folds it in the crook of her arm. My heart and mind races as I cross the threshold of the house. Overwhelmed is so not the word. My emotions are all over the board.

"Where do you want this," Nicolas asks Rebecca about my bag.

"In her room, go left at the top of the stairs and to the end of the hall."

"I have a room," I ask as Nicholas takes off up the stairs.

"Of course you do. We've updated it as the years passed, in case you ever came back."

The statement is matter-of-fact and her face is a blank slate. I'm still speechless when Rebecca gently pulls me along and we pass through the living room into the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?"

"A soda would be nice," I say, going to a built in buffet lined with pictures.

It's an out-of-body experience as I scan the photos lining the eight foot long marble top. There are photos of every stage of each of Jeffrey children's life, including me. I look through the array of framed photos searching for my likeness. I am equally represented. School photos, candid shots of me at the park, in my mother's house, hell, even my high school graduation portrait. I pick up a photo showing Jeffrey holding a newborn. He's at the hospital standing next to a window. Sunlight pours into the room in stripes through the open blinds. One hand supporting the baby's head, the other her body, the look on Jeffrey's face is nothing but utter and complete adoration. It's me that he's holding. I pick up the photo, then another, and another.

A life I didn't remember captured and displayed on a countertop: Jeffrey bathing me, combing my hair, playing with me. My breath stops when I reach the last childhood picture. My sleeping form with a beautiful grey wolf. And not like any wolf I've ever seen at the zoo or on television or on a poster or picture. A wolf the size of a Mastiff. I reach for it, but my arms are full, I hadn't realized that I'd picked up every picture of me and my father. I sit them all back in what I hope is their original place. All but the first, of Jeffrey holding me at the hospital and go back to the one with me and the wolf. I pick it up, hold it out, side by side with the first. One shows a father already deeply in love with his daughter, the other shows a father ready to tear down the world for her. Such fierce protectiveness that it's a little unnerving to look at. My entire body becomes heavy, my bones strain at the weight of so much...loss.

"That's my favorite." Rebecca's standing next to me holding the soda I'd asked and forgotten about. "I've seen man and beast a thousand times, but nothing sums up your father like that picture."

I knew it was my father, just like I knew the baby he was holding was me even though I had that generic baby look most newborns have. "He's beautiful," I say, placing the baby picture down and running my finger across the image of the wolf.

"It wasn't easy...for either of them," she says placing a hand on my shoulder. "Your mother thought she was doing what was best for her child and your father cannot deny her anything."

"How could he let me go," I ask. The animal in the photo looks ready to devour anything that gets within snapping distance of the sleep toddler.

"He never let you go, he just had a greater distance to travel to get to you. Let me show you something."

Rebecca sits the soda down and I follow her lead still carrying the picture. We go through the living room and down a hallway. She opens the door to the master bedroom.

"Oh, my God," I whisper taking hesitant steps further into the room towards a wall with a life size photo of me. "How..." I say but can't find the breath to form any more words.

"He's always been there Nicole, even if you couldn't see him. He couldn't stop your mother from taking you, but she couldn't stop him from seeing you either."

"I remember that day," I say, moving closer to the photo. The black and white still shows me sitting on a park bench with my legs crossed. There's an open book in my lap and my head is thrown back in laughter. I'd been talking to a couple of kids, twin girls, about six. They were like tiny grownups. "That was a month ago."

"He replaces this one periodically with shots he captures of you that he loves."

I take a step back and look around the room. There are photos of me...only me, in this room.

"Why?" I ask, not expecting an answer because I'm not sure what _why_ I'm asking.

"Your mother refused your father's mark but she loves him. He's probably the only person she'll ever love."

I walk around the bedroom, looking at each photo. I don't pick them up. I recognized a few of the pictures in the other room, but not a single one in the bedroom. I've been stalked by my own father. I'm not mad, it's so sad a lump large enough to choke me forms in my throat and the first tears make a path down my cheeks. My father loves me, each photo is a declaration of this love. How had he felt, standing in the shadows? When I reach the last picture on the nightstand next to the bed I look up for Rebecca but she's left. I wipe my face with my palm and take a deep breath before exiting the room and rejoining her in the kitchen.

Rebecca sits at a table sipping tea. My soda is sitting at an empty space next to her. I sit down, my legs giving out. I sit the picture down and take a sip of my soda.

"I can't imagine what you're going through."

The empathy in her voice threaten new tears. But I take a deep cleansing breath.

"I don't understand," I finally say.

What a blanket statement. The things I don't understand seem infinite. Rebecca lays a comforting hand on top of mine and gives it a squeeze.

"I don't want to overstep, but I know both of your parents love you. Both did the very best as they saw it. You're angry and hurt and confused as you should be but when those feelings fade remember you were created in love and is loved still."

Her words are a warm embrace, a calming balm on my heart. Why couldn't my mother have said these words instead of trying to prove how right she is? I place my other hand on top of Rebecca's

"Thank you. Can you overstep? You've been part of Jeffrey's life longer than me or my mother. And I've gotten a very inspirational tutorial from Nicholas about what it means to be part of a pack."

"Well, if you have any questions or just want to rant and rave, I'm your woman."

"Thank you—again," I say pulling my hands from hers and picking up my soda. "I do have a question."

"Mating?" she asks with a reassuring smile.

"Yeah." I try not to fidget. It's so unlike me.

"Your father told me about your beaus."

"He did?" I ask, my face warms as the blush creep up my cheeks. "Wow, um, okay. So I think I understand the basics but it's not normal for three people to mate." I couldn't say werewolf. Not yet.

"Normal is no longer a part of your life," Rebecca says.

"Don't I know it," I say with a nervous chuckle. "But how often does it happen even among regular people?"

Rebecca laughs. "I must admit, I don't know any regular people in the kind of relationship you're propositioned with."

"Jeffrey made it seem like finding my soul mate."

"You don't believe in soul mates?'

"I answer immediately. "No."

"But you believe in werewolves?"

She had a point.

"There're seven billion people on the planet. The chances of two people who are destined to be together is astronomical. The number of the wolf is nowhere near that. It doesn't feel so farfetched if the number shrinks to tens of thousands. Add all the supernatural stuff and suddenly it seems possible."

"When you put it that way, but—" I chew on my lip.

"You feel it—them, you're drawn to them?"

"I am."

Relief pour out of me in my exhale. It's beyond awkward thinking about talking to Jeffrey about this and I'm too angry with my mother for it to even have crossed my mind. I start to wonder if my father set this up. I lean forward.

"I miss them," I whisper the words. It's so unfathomable I can't give the three words substance with sound.

"Oh, sweetheart. You are lucky beyond your wildest dreams. Forget normal and regular. You are on the receiving end of something extraordinary. Be happy. Trust your heart."

"Didn't you ever want...more," I ask Rebecca. "A man dedicated one-hundred percent to you?"

"Until your father brought Teresa home, we were supposed to be mated."

"So why didn't you marry someone else?" I ask

"Because my wolf demands a stronger mate."

"Wait...are you saying that you're stronger than the men?"

"No, only that she demands a stronger wolf than most in this pack."

"But what about you, the woman, didn't you ever meet a man you thought you could fall in love with. You step into the role of Queen, knowing that my father will never marry you, or mate you."

"There is no second mating. Your father's wolf belongs to your mother. This is pack life and it's worked for hundreds of years. It still works today. Our circumstances are not ideal but we have made the best life we could in the situation we found each other in,""

I'm teary eyed because if this is the best. It sucks ass. I nod because there's nothing left to say. She stands.

"Your father has called the pack for a meet and greet. It's nothing formal, jeans will do," she says.

I look at her outfit and can't imagine the elegant lady in jeans. "Will the entire neighborhood be there?" I ask.

Rebecca laughs, "Every wolf in the pack that's in town is required to attend."

I'm almost afraid to ask. "How many is that?"

"Three hundred."

I'm still processing when Rebecca adds, "You'll find everything you need in your room, but this is your home, feel free to wander. I'll see you tonight."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, I don't live here."

"But you're the queen."

"Yes, but not your father's wife, nor his mate. I would never disrespect Teresa like that, nor would your father."

I'm dumbfounded.

My father's relationships are too complicated for me to wrap my head around. Then again, maybe I can. I am, after all, contemplating dating identical friends.

### Sunday Evening

My father comes in looking like he's gone twenty rounds with George Foreman when he was in his prime. His shirt is destroyed, his pants are dirty, he has grass and leaves in his hair and he's sporting a split lip and there's blood on his tattered shirt and his jeans.

"What the hell!" I say rushing to him.

"Whoa, you're still throwing serious heat." he says. His concern is ill-placed. He should be worried about internal injuries. "I can't believe your fellas sent you here alone."

"They're not mine," I say, and ignore that he ignores my words.

"I was hoping you had a shorter cycle seeing how you're not full wolf," he says. He's pulls the ruin shirt over his head and my eyes almost pop out of my head. He's covered in welts and bruises. Every breath must hurt. He walks down the hall with me trailing behind him.

"Are you alright?" I ask with real concern. He may have cracked or broken ribs.

"Fine." He pushes open the door and we're in his bedroom. He throws the shirt in a corner and stops long enough to grab underwear before heading for the bathroom. "Pick your old man out something to wear." He closes the bathroom door without another word.

I stand there a second. Shorten cycle? I sniff my arm. I'd forgotten I was in heat. I don't smell anything other than soap and lotion. I shrug and head for the closet. I pick out a pair of khaki's and a blue plaid shirt and lay the outfit on the bed. I sit in a high back chair next to the door to wait for Jeffrey, who takes the quickest shower known to man in water that was boiling if the steam pouring from the opened door is any indication. He emerges in a fresh t-shirt and boxers.

"You look lovely, baby," he said grabbing the pants.

Okay, I can lie, but I totally check him out. Nothing freaky, just looking at the half dressed body of the man who gave me half of my DNA. He's massive, no wonder his wolf is so big.

"Why doesn't Rebecca live here?"

"He buttons up the shirt and starts stuffing his shirt-tail in his pants, "Because I'm married to your mother."

"Yes, and why is that? "

"Because we love each other," he says zipping up his pants and going to the closet. He comes out with socks and shoes. He sits on the edge of the bed. "I know this all must be very confusing but I'm hoping spending time with the pack will help you better understand what it means to be a wolf."

"But I'm not a wolf," I say.

He let his foot drop. Ten minutes. That's how much time has passed since he walked through the door. He looks like he's ready to pose in a magazine shoot.

"Having a second form is not the only thing that makes you a wolf." He put his hands on his hips and looks exactly like Superman. "There are a lot of men, women and children in this pack that don't turn when the moon is full. Now, let's go. There's a receiving line."

We don't leave the neighborhood, we don't even drive. We walk to the activity center nestled in the heart of the neighborhood. There's also a library and a school. The parking lot is full of cars but there's no one milling about outside the structure. The brightly lit interior halls that I can see through the large windows we past are also clear of any people. As if picking up on my unease Jeffrey takes my hand, or maybe it's to calm his own nerves. His mate took his child away. No one has seen me in twenty years although I'd once been a part of this community.

The exterior door opens quietly and we step inside a large vestibule. I can hear people on the other side of the double doors we approach. Lots of people. Giving my hand a little squeeze Jeffrey pulls it open.

To our right is Rebecca and Nadia speaking to a small group of people. One by one people turn to see who's entered until the room is quiet. There's curiosity in every set of eyes pointed my way. Well, almost. Rebecca is smiling and Nadia's face is blank. Maybe she'll be better behave in the presence of her father. Our father.

Jeffrey releases my hand and goes to Rebecca. He takes her outstretch hand and presses it to his lips. The look in her eyes is nothing short of adoration. Jeffrey back is to me but I know the feeling is mutual. He loves her. It's in the air, it surrounds them in a bubble. Nadia's smug look confirms it. Jeffrey lowers Rebecca's hand but keeps it in his grip, his free hand strokes her jaw gently as she smiles a secret smile at him. Once the sweet greeting is over he turns to Nadia and kisses her on the top of her head after hugging her. My heart aches even as my blood boils. My mother had really fucked up.

"Nicole, don't you look lovely."

I shrug off the compliment. Standing next to her I probably look like a bag lady, even in two hundred dollar jeans and a designer shirt.

"Thanks."

"Let's line up, there's a lot of people excited to say hello," she says, gently guiding me with a soft touch on my back.

I stand next to Jeffrey. I swear his chest is puffed out. It's sweet. Rebecca flanks me and pulling up the rear is a not-to-happy Nadia.

It's a self-contained society. I wonder if the government is watching them. It is causal, down to the pot-luck food line, paper plates and Styrofoam cups of watered down punch. Everyone is super nice, some so happy to see me it makes me uncomfortable. I have no memory of this place.

A man approaches with matching black eyes and a fat lip. There's a rolled up hat in his hands. Next to him is a worried woman holding a toddler who is eerily quiet. As if he can pick up the anxiousness of his parents. The man drops to his knees in front of Jeffrey. The guy doesn't say anything, just stare at the square of floor at my father's feet. When my father runs his hand over the man's head I release a breath I didn't know I was holding, as does the rest of the room. The man stands and my father pulls him in for a long, hard embrace with a lot of hard back-patting that I feel with each loud thump.

"Windell, do you remember my first born, Nicole," he says turning with his arm still around the man's shoulder.

"Of course," the man says smiling. I try not to wince. He's missing a front tooth. The hole is dark red from the recent loss.

"It's very nice to meet you," I say, extending my hand but the man doesn't shake it. My hands land on a well-muscled chest when I see the trajectory of his face. I'm down for a hug but kissing...

Windell looks confused.

"She's new to our ways," Jeffrey says before looking at me. "He is greeting you in the way of the wolf."

"Oh," I say, embarrassed.

Windell very slowly advances and kisses the space between my bottom lip and chin. He backs away and dips his head before stepping to the side.

"Thank you, alpha," the woman says, hitching the toddler higher on her hip. Jeffrey bends down so that she can kiss him. To my surprise the baby offers the same kiss.

"Jean, stop worrying, everything's find." Jeffrey tells the woman and thumbs the nose of the little boy who smiles, looking more like a two year old and not a worried thirty year old man.

"Christopher!"

I turn and look into the face of a god. He has a head full of thick brown hair that flow wavy around his shoulders. His jeans are tight in the thighs and his shirt hug fabulously muscular arms. He's gorgeous.

"This is my second, Christopher Little."

"Wow," Christopher says, and actually takes a step back.

"I know," Jeffrey says.

I'm a solid eight on the scale of hotness but I'm pretty sure my dad's not commenting on that, so it must be the smell I can't pick up on.

"Should I have worn perfume?"

"Yes, lots and lots," Christopher says. I turn when he dips his head in the direction over my shoulder.

I blink...then blink again. There's a gathering of men ranging from too young to geriatric.

"What's going on," I say, moving closer to Jeffrey. I'm not sure how I know, because there's nothing in their expressions or body language, but there's aggression flowing through the group.

"They want to fight, to show they're worthy mating material," Christopher answers.

"But, I already have mates," I say aloud while thinking, _or at least potential mates_.

"Mates?" Christopher says giving me side eye.

"Long story," I say looking at Jeffrey, "Can you do something about this?"

"It is our right to fight for the lady's favor." The boy whose mouth the words spilled out of is too young to be using words that outdated. And he's not even looking at me, he's addressing Jeffrey. Like he has final say.

"She doesn't want any of you," Jeffrey says gesturing his hands in a shoo-away motion. "Go on, get out of here."

The men dispersed, most of them mumbling under their breaths.

"I'm guessing you're not mated but you don't seem ready to fight in order to claim me like some carnival prize. What gives?" I ask Christopher.

"I'm the pack's beta. I'm the second strongest werewolf here."

"Strong enough to fight off my feminine wile," I say, jokingly.

"Barely," he says with a laugh, but there's no humor in his eyes.

Liking Christopher, and playing with fire, I loop my arm through his. "Well, you'll just have to protect me from all the big bad wolves. Let's get punch."

"Pray for me brother," he says over his shoulder to Jeffrey.

If I thought Nadia didn't like me earlier, I know it now. When she spots me talking to Christopher her head almost explodes. Because she's being such a bitch I move in close, touch his arm while we talk and I'm tempted to kiss him when Rebecca and Jeffrey break up my little show.

"You're going to get burn little wolf," Jeffrey says.

"What?" I ask innocently.

"You know exactly what you're doing," Jeffrey says smiling. He hands Rebecca a cup of punch that is now more water than punch. "One, provoking Nadia is not a smart move. She's the second strongest female in the room behind her mother and two, keep rubbing up against Chris and I don't think all that hard won control is going to hold much longer."

Shocked I look at Christopher, he shrugs, "Hey, I'm half animal."

I take a step away from him. "Sorry."

He laughs, "No problem. I'm not into force mating, I'd walked away before I got that far gone."

"Forced mating," I say.

"It's when a male fights a female for mating privileges."

"Rape," I say appalled.

"Of course not," Rebecca says and she looks disgusted. "Female wolves would die before they allowed that. It is a submission and acceptance of a proven male."

"Then why call it forced?"

"An antiqued term, but a lot of our way of living will seem outdated to a human."

"There's a lot to be learned," Jeffrey says. I can see hope that I'll decide to stay in his eyes.

"Does anyone know who this wolf belongs to?" A female voice rang through the gymnasium.

Every head turns and my mouth drops open.

I raise my hand.

### **-**

Niko looks different from the photo I saw of her. Her hair is dyed black and grey. Her eyes are heavily lined, she's wearing a pair of black pants with silver grommets running up the sides and a shirt that hangs off one shoulder. Her combat boots are laced up her legs and stop at her knees. Silver bangles run up her arm to the elbow and she has a length of chain around her neck. Her arm is looped through the last person on earth I'd expect to see.

I don't think I breathe as they make their way across the room. His eyes are glued to mine. It's as if time is standing still and everyone in the room disappears but the two of us. Niko drops her hand when they're about three feet from me. I'm still standing with my hand in the air, all things forgotten but the gorgeous man in front of me. He wraps an arm around me, pulls me into his body lowering my arm with his free hand and I offer my lips when his head moves closer but it's not a kiss that he offers and I gasp when his teeth press hard on my neck. When he raises his head, his eyes are on fire. Gold, flickering in the brown and green that make up his hazel eyes.

"Nicole."

His velvet smooth voice loosen everything in me. I'm liquid in his arms and in serious danger of sliding down his body and becoming a puddle at his feet.

"Wow," Niko says behind him.

Titus presses a hard kiss on my mouth before separating our bodies, but he keeps an arm around my waist. "Thank you for showing me to Nicole," he says to Niko.

"My pleasure," she says, her head cocked to the side, a deep breath expanding her chest before she exhales loudly. She turns to me. "I'm your youngest sister, the trouble maker." She bear-hugs me even with half of my body glued to Titus.

"Glad you could make it," Jeffrey says.

"Thank you, again, for allowing me to come."

"Where's Tristan," I ask.

"Packing up the house."

I know they're leaving, they'd made it clear that they were, but hearing the words again. I'm flooded with a plethora of emotions I don't understand. Why would I care if two men I don't know are moving? Something in my chest hurt.

"Be at ease, my wolf," Titus runs a finger in a line down the center of my face, lifting my chin with his finger tip and kissing me lightly on the lips,

The men that were a stone's throw away all night disperse with Titus's arrival. I laugh at the loud and disappointed mumbling of the sixteen year old that had declared his right to fight for my hand.

"It seems you've saved us from quite a few mating fights tonight," Christopher says to Titus.

"Any wolf that wants Nicole's hand is more than welcome to fight for it." Titus looks over the room, giving pointed stares at a few before his hard gaze lands on Christopher.

Christopher puts his hands up. "My dog wasn't in that hunt."

"You'd take on so many... alone," Rebecca asks.

I remember the fight in my front yard. Tristan and Titus fighting three men apiece and coming out the victor. The original group had dwindled in size with Christopher at my side but there had still been half a dozen when Titus arrived.

"I'd leave them alive only out of respect of for your alpha and only then because he is Nicole's father."

"Does everyone have to be so serious all the time? I thought this was a party," Niko says.

"You think everything is a party," Jeffrey says pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head. "I'm glad you decided to grace us with your presence."

"And miss out on Queen Bee's dethronement...never."

"Niko," Rebecca warns her youngest.

"Now that you've returned home you're the H.B.I.C," she says, ignoring her mother. When I just look at her, she adds, "Head bitch in charge."

"You really shouldn't tease your sister," Jeffrey says.

"But she makes it so easy."

"One day you will wear her patience out."

"Beating up the runt of the litter isn't very queenly."

The comment is flippant and said in a joking manner but there's real pain coming from the girl.

"Niko," Rebecca says.

Jeffrey hugs his youngest closer to his body and says. "Nicole does not have her beast."

"Truly?" she asks.

I know how she feels. My entire life I'd felt out of place, alone. I was an only child whose mother's sole mission in life was to get me married to a rich man. In school I was the only black, and if there had been a second dark face in the crowd, I was the only one that paid full tuition. I'd grown a thick skin and never complained because I could have had it so much worse. But standing here, snuggled into Titus's side, with the warmth of his body a cocoon around me. I feel...at peace. I don't have my beast but for the first time in my life I feel like I belong. To him, to Tristan, to this wonderful new life I never imagined possible.

"No, I don't," I answer.

"And you're okay with that," she asks Titus. "Your wolf is okay with that?"

"The spirit of Nicole's wolf calls to me, summons me like a siren's song. Man and beast bow in the presence of its power."

I'm slack-jawed at the words spoken so fiercely, so reverently, as if we've known and loved each other for a lifetime. The air around our circle has become thick and warm. It isn't my imagination, it's coming from Titus. The heat, the heaviness, is his power. I tightened my arm around him, press my body where we touch closer to him. It's not just me picking up on it either. Some of the people closest to our little circle has stopped talking and is staring at him.

"Whoa...you're an alpha," Niko says and the look of astonishment is almost comical.

"And very powerful," Rebecca says, she takes a step towards Jeffrey.

Christopher also takes a step towards his pack's alpha and queen.

The entire room is silent and tense. Christopher goes from fun-loving to serious and a little threatening, Rebecca look fierce, more lioness than wolf, Niko looks worried and Jeffrey looks...puzzled, then impressed and finally proud.

"You and the other really toned it down back at Nicky's," he says.

Titus simply nods.

"I don't know what the hell the two of you are playing, and I plan on finding out, but you have my blessing."

"It is not misplaced, Alpha Sullivan."

I'm pretty sure my father just approved my mating. I don't know how I feel but I'm willing to leave that conversation for later.

Titus turns to Niko. "I sense a strong power in you. Let no one tell you differently."

### **-**

Jeffrey pulls Titus to the side and I try not to read lips.

"You're so lucky," Niko says, drawing my attention away from the two men. I see Christopher across the room standing next to Nadia, and I must admit, they make a handsome couple. Nadia's long, sleek frame looks custom made for his massive bulky one.

"Don't I know it," I say smiling at her.

"Will you wear his mark?" she asks.

"Will I wear his mark?" Everything's moving at the speed of light and while there's an obvious connection I wasn't raised to jump head or feet first without testing the waters. "It's...complicated."

"What's complicated, he adores you. I think more than Daddy loves your mother."

"Those two aren't exactly shining examples of eternal bliss."

Niko laughs, "I suppose not, but still, they love each other and have never stopped loving each other. That's got to mean something."

"Yeah, but what?" I ask. I focus on my little sister, the youngest of the bunch. She's pretty, even if you have to look past her punk attire and make-up. My mother would have stripped me naked and burned the outfit the second I stepped out of my room in it, and every outfit like it.

"Does it bother you? That your father loves my mother?"

Niko's laughs, "First, he's your father too, and second we've never known anything different. Mother is the queen, father is the alpha, and your mother is his mate."

I shake my head, because it's so weird. "Doesn't that make you, I don't know, angry?"

"Why would it? My mother is queen of our pack and our father loves us. To be honest I always felt a little sorry for you," she says.

"Why?"

Niko looks at Jeffrey, who's headed our way. "Because he's the best dad in the world and I knew, no matter where you were, even if your mother had found another, wolf or human, he was a poor substitute."

I look at Jeffrey and think of the pictures of me in his house, especially the large one in his bedroom. He'd allow my crazy mother to take me but he'd kept me close to him in every way he could.

"The alpha has invited me to stay and I've accepted, at least for part of the week. Tristan will arrive Wednesday.

"Where will you stay," I ask.

Jeffrey chuckles, "I offered the spare room."

"I declined," Titus adds but there's no smile on his face.

I blush as I think of the minutes spent in the stall with Titus and Tristan. My body tightens at the memory.

Maybe you should get her out of here," Christopher says. His lip is turn up on the corner but the easy smile seems forced.

"I second my second," Jeffrey says.

"Wha..." I stop. Several men and boys are looking at me. "I don't know how the women stand it?" I say. I'm starting to get a little pissed off. "Is it me, or does heat seems a little like a rape pheromone?"

There are several gasps; from my group and from a few people that were standing close enough to overhear my question.

"And I thought Niko was the embarrassment in the family," Nadia says and she looks at me like I'm a booger stuck to her finger that she can't flick off.

"Nadia," Rebecca scorns. Pressure builds around us and then gets hot before Niko lower her eyes.

Every person in the room has been summon here for me, to welcome me, and have been nothing but nice and I've offended them, and probably embarrassed the hell out of Jeffrey and Rebecca. Titus turns my head with a finger beneath my chin.

"Every man and boy in this place has a beast to call. We are only half human, for some, including myself, not even that. Our animal nature lives within us regardless of how many legs we stand on or the shape of the moon. You'll have to stop thinking like a human, little wolf."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Mating is most certainly about power, and unfortunately, like lesser men, there are lesser wolves that would try to take you by force." He leans forward and whispers in my ear. "There's nothing like the show of dominance for the woman you want to claim. You don't see your opponent, don't feel the blows, it's her face that keeps you in the fight, the smell of her skin that gives you strength and the pleasure that can only be found in her body that makes you win."

I swear to god I'm about to come. Right here, right now, in front of room full of stranger and my new found father and sisters. Titus leans back and stare down at me. His hazel eyes are swirling globes of molten gold. My fingers are digging into his arms so hard they ache but if I'm hurting him he doesn't show it.

"We're animals, little wolf; don't ever forget that."

I can't use words so I just nod.

Jeffrey clears his throat. "You're words are true but you're not actually making it any better," he says.

I'm lost in Titus eyes and he doesn't move for a few seconds. He squeezes me a little tighter before blinking and his eyes return to normal before he turns to my father.

"Apologies," he says and I know he's addressing not only Jeffrey but the room as well. "I'll escort Nicole home and go to the Accalia's. Thank you again for your kind and most generous offer."

"Certainly," Rebecca says.

"Aren't you afraid of being challenged," Niko asks.

And rightfully so. I see what Jeffrey meant by making it worst. A few men have moved closer and I can feel tension rolling off them in thick waves.

Titus looks over the handful. "I expect at least one fight before I leave. I look forward to it."

The absence of the sun doesn't offer a reprieve from the heat, or the humidity. I'd been nervous about meeting the wolves in Jeffrey's pack but walking down the pitch black street with my hand in a virtual stranger's didn't seem to bother me one bit. For a matter of fact, I can't remember being so comfortable with a new man.

"Tristan is not here to soften my words. Without him I am afraid they may be...harsh."

"I'm a big girl. Anyway, I need to get use to them."

He looks at me a second before turning his head back front and center. "There is a part of me that wishes you find a mate while you are here."

I stop. Titus takes an extra step before he drops my hand. He confuses me and angers me. The confusion makes sense. The anger—not so much.

Why?" I ask.

"Tristan has truly mated with me. For him, there is no one else. That bond does not extend both ways."

"What?" I ask. I still don't have a handle of the whole mating thing.

"I am with Tristan because I love him, but you...you call to my wolf."

"You don't think you could...mate with me and still love Tristan?" I ask. I'd almost said love, but it was too early in the game to be throwing the L word around.

"The man, certainly, the wolf, I'm not so sure."

"If you feel this way, than what's this all about? You claim to love him but you're keeping an important part from him. That's not love and devotion, that's deception, and real love, true love, can't live where deceit is the bases of one's relationship."

Titus grabs me by a handful of hair and still I'm not afraid, even with him growling in my face.

"Tristan and I have been together for over a hundred years. Tell me, little wolf, is that not devotion?" he spits at me.

My anger evaporates as the words pop my balloon of righteous indignation.

He releases me so suddenly I stumble. "Over a hundred years," I whisper, "How is that possible?'

Titus has turned and he wipes his hand across his face. With his back still to me he says, "Werewolves are longed lived. The strongest alpha can live to be hundred. Tristan and I will celebrate our one hundredth and thirty first birthday in two months' time. Jean Rene, our alpha, is over five hundred years old."

I sit down on the curb. Titus joins me. We sit in silence long enough for the crickets to start singing again. A choir of other insect and frogs join in. It sounds like the fucking Amazon. If I heard the call of a monkey I wouldn't be surprised.

"Five years ago Tristan and I were no longer tied to the moon. We can change at will, day or night. You are not full wolf but you call to both of us. For me, it makes sense, for Tristan, it's unheard of. He is already mated and therefore he should want no other. Being summoned by our alpha is not the only reason we're leaving. We need answers."

I nod. None of this makes sense to me but why should it?

"Deceit or no, mated or not, I love Tristan. I would die, so that he may live or fight off that very same death just to make sure he is safe before I leave this world. I will never leave him. Not even for my true mate."

Unexplained anger boils to the surface like hot lava. The emotion is so unlike me that I pause. The man is...infuriating. All night I've been within the circle of his arm. He'd whispered sweet nothings in my ear and damn near professed undying fucking love and devotion and now this. I slap him. It's as if my hand is on autopilot I now understand the saying, _makes my blood boil_. I feel like I'm about to burst into flames. My palm stings from the strike. I've never been in a physical altercation with anyone but I'm ready to throw down. Why am I even this upset? I don't know Titus or Tristan. Hell, I don't even know myself, not really.

"What is wrong with you," I say. I want to yell, but good home training keeps my voice low. "I don't know if this is some weird werewolf shit but I'm already sick and tired of it. You come here uninvited, practically glued yourself to my side the entire evening, all but professed undying love and then pull this shit," I say, getting madder and madder with each word and still I feel like I want to rub my body all over his. Well fuck that. I don't care how physically attracted I am to him. "Kiss my ass. Go home." I say standing, prepared to walk the rest of the way back to Jeffrey's on my own.

The sporadically place street lights offer little illumination and I'm not sure where Jeffrey house is. I know it's on the main street, not far down from a major road. I've crossed the street at the end of the block so mad...and hurt that I'm mumbling curses under my breath. I'm halfway down the block when Titus catches me.

"Nicole."

I don't stop. I came here to get answers from Jeffrey and I will. The feelings I have for the identical werewolves seem to go away with distance so I'll be happy when their asses leave.

"Nicole," Titus says again this time with some real bass in his voice.

My feet falter but only for a step, I'm walking at the same brisk pace after the one traitorous stride. I'm about to run when Titus reaches out and grabs my arm and swings me around.

"Release me this instant!" I say. I'm not afraid. I'm still madder than hell.

"I'm not finished."

"I don't really care, because I am. I didn't ask for this, I don't even want it. You're the one who knows the rules...have all the answers, and if this is how you treat the people you supposedly love then I don't want any parts of it, because it fucking sucks."

"Watch your language, Nicole."

My mouth drops open in disbelief. You have got to be shitting me. "Fuck. You."

Titus is all over me, our body touching from chest to knee, one arm around my waist pressing me to his body the other hand in my hair pulling it just shy of painful, holding my head in place. His eyes are doing that weird swirling fire thing I'm sure is meant to hypnotize but his fiery eyes can go to hell.

"In my long life nothing like this has ever happened. I have loved Tristan for so long I do not remember a time in which I did not. Until you, I...we...have been happy. I have no answers, there are no rules. But you will not walk away from this."

"Who do you think you are?" I ask. The words are meant to be venom filled but they come out airy. The hold he has on me feels so good.

"I'm your mate Nicole, and you don't get to walk away that easy."

"Why not, my mother did."

Titus's lips turn up, but doesn't reach smile level. For some reason I don't think he smiles a lot, maybe never. "No, I don't think she did."

"What are you talking about? Of course she did."

"Your mother's body burns for your father as much as yours do for mine this very instant. Beneath the heat of your anger is something that burns much hotter, I can smell it Nicole and I remember the taste of it."

"Oh, my god." I say. I'm not shocked—well, I am—but he's right, I'm hot as hell. My panties are wet.

A sound deep in his throat that vibrates my body and sounds a lot like a growl and a little like a purr turns my bones to jelly. And I'm not sure if he's restraining me or holding me up.

"I'm not your father. I won't allow you to leave, not without a fight. Why else do you think I came here, came to you Nicole? I was powerless not to. I love Tristan, but it is you that controls me."

### **-**

I enter Jeffrey's house with my body still on fire and my soul weak and weary. I'm a damned emotional wreck. One day my life will start making sense again and I cannot wait. For every question answered there are about a thousand I've forgotten to ask and a thousand more that pop up every half-second. My brain actually hurts from all the directions I'm being pulled in: father, sisters, mates, werewolves, and let's not forget the timeline. It's an impossible situation. I'm glad I came to visit, and I'm actually stoked about having sisters even if one acts like bitch-supreme. Hell, I've forgotten about one of them, Nahla. Where is she? Is she like Nadia or Niko? I climb the stairs ready to escape my life by sleeping. I'm peeling off my clothes when my cell rings. I don't recognize the number but with all the new people in my life I answer it anyway.

"Hello."

"Nick."

My heart flutters when I hear Tristan's velvety voice.

"Has Titus scared you off?" he asks and I smile because he laughs a little. He's only said a handful of words to me including the five he's just spoken but already I know he's the polar opposite of the other man.

"Not yet, but he's giving it his all."

"Brava for not letting him bully you."

I walk to the bathroom in my underwear to finish getting ready for bed.

"Regardless of what he does or says to you, I'd really like it if you'd come and spend at least one day with us together."

"Because you're his buffer," I ask sticking my toothbrush in my mouth.

"Yes, but also because you won't be getting one without the other."

I think about what Titus said about me being his mate and not Tristan and I suddenly feel guilty, like I've stolen the man's husband.

"I can't make any promises. I don't want to come between the two of you."

"Ah, Titus has told you how long we've been together."

"Yes...among other things."

"Truly?" Tristan asks. "Like..."

I regret adding that last bit and I stay silent because I don't want to be the one to break the news to him that the great love of his life is not metaphysically bound to him for all eternity.

"Let me guess—he's explained how he's not bound to me fully."

I spit in the sink, rinse out my mouth and sit back down. "He loves you," I say.

"Yes...and," Tristan says.

"Does anything else really matters?" I ask.

"In this case—yes."

"Because the two of you are werewolves."

"Not just us, you too Nicole."

"I don't feel the same way when I'm away from you," I blurt out.

Tristan chuckles, "I should think not, if that was the case no mated couple would get a thing done."

"So why is it so important if all we have to do is stay away from each other?" I ask.

"What's your favorite food?"

I think about it for a second. "Pasta with wild mushrooms and truffles."

"What...really...okay," he says laughing at my selection. "You and he really are made for each other."

"What does that mean?"

"Titus is the biggest damned foodie I've ever seen. Life with the two of you will be interesting."

"You're comparing love with food?" I say, before he could go into his analogy about how it would feel if I never ate it again or some such none sense. "You know there's a lot of food out there to replace that one dish."

"That's because you've foolishly assumed you can still eat, can still taste or smell. That's what Titus is willing to walk away from."

"You're lucky."

"I am. It's the same love that made me call you. I know Titus loves me, we can leave and everything will go back as it was but now that he's met his mate....I couldn't do that to him. I could never deny him this, not when I know firsthand what it's like to be with your mate."

"But it's not up to you," I say.

"No, but it's not Titus's call either, it's not even your call. Good or bad, this is a decision we all three have to make."

### Monday Morning

With what felt like ten minutes of sleep under my belt I drag myself from bed, take a quick shower and rush downstairs for what I hope is a little alone time before Jeffrey gets up and gets his day started. But I know I'm not going to be so lucky at the top of the stairs. I can hear movement in the kitchen. I'm surprise that it's Rebecca in the kitchen and not Jeffrey. There's an assembly line of bread on the countertop that she's slathering mayo on.

Rebecca is dressed in jeans and a white shirt. But her brown, leather ballerina flats match her belt exact and her shirt is starched and her minimal jewelry includes diamond stud earrings, a couple of gold bangles and a silver and gold watch, making the ensemble look too polish to be casual. She reminds me of my mother. Of course, I've never seen my mother in jeans. I'm not sure she even knows denim exist.

"What's going on?" I ask, heading for the coffee pot.

"Challenge fight, today."

I head for the fridge for cream or milk, wondering if I should step up my clothes game. "Challenge fight?"

Jeffrey walks in sans shirt, kisses Rebecca temple and heads in my direction. As if he's done it every day for twenty-five years, he kisses the top of my head and reaches around me for a carton of orange juice and drinks right out of the cartoon.

"Christopher has been challenged for his beta position," he says, taking the carton of juice with him and grabbing a sandwich in the long line on the counter before taking a seat at the counter opposite Rebecca and her assembly line. "The winner is the beta."

"That seems a little...barbaric," I say, joining Jeffrey at the counter and taking the seat next to him.

"You would think so," Nadia says entering the kitchen.

She too is business casual in a blue and white, pinstriped fit and flair, shirt dress with buttons running up the front and a skinny, white patent leather belt. Her hair is done up in some faux messy bun and I can't lie, she's beautiful.

"No one expects an outsider to understand our ways." she says as she goes to the cabinet grab a mug and starts making a cup of coffee.

"Can you try not to be a total and complete bitch until I finish my coffee," I say sitting my cup down with enough force that coffee sloshes over the brim.

"Girls," Rebecca says putting a hand on her hip.

"She started it," I say feeling like a ten year old. "I'm going to ask questions and form opinions and sometimes not agree but what does it matters what I think. I'm not here to start any shit. I'm just trying to get to know Jeffrey and more about the life he lives."

We're still staring daggers at each other when we hear the front door open.

"Hello...anyone home?"

My mouth drops open, I close it, frown and look at Jeffrey before saying, "Mom?"

I come to an abrupt stop when I see my mother. She's dressed almost identical to Rebecca: jeans, starched white shirt, and gold and diamond jewelry, hell even their shoes match.

Jeffrey comes in the room and when my mother gets a gander at his uncovered chest, her mouth drops open for a split second. I can almost see her heart rate accelerate. I think about what Titus said the night before and he's right. Mom definitely still has the hots for the man she married.

I look over when Rebecca and Nadia enter the room. Rebecca expression I can't figure out; Nadia looks like she wants to rip my mother's head off.

"I hope I..." my mother says and rubs her hands down the front of her jeans. "I just thought that..."

My mouth drops open again. She's flustered. A first that I've ever witnessed. Rebecca is the first to move. She opens her arms.

"It's so good to see you," she says and the two women hug each other long and hard.

"I'm sorry I didn't call ahead but I didn't know until I opened the door if I was going to go through with showing up."

"It's your home and always will be."

Nadia huffs and storms back into the kitchen as Niko appears at the top of the stairs.

"Oh wow," she says, looking over the three adult during her slow descent. She stops at the bottom, hugging the bannister.

"Niko," my mother says. "It's nice to finally meet you in person. I've heard so much about you."

"You have," Niko says stepping away from the staircase and walking towards the two women. She stops at her mother's side.

My mother nods and smiles. "Your father talks about you all the time."

Wait...what...

My head gets ready to spin. Now it's my turn to storm out of the room. The only thing that keep my footfalls light is that I don't want to seem too much like Nadia.

"Come," Rebecca says. "Christopher's being challenged today, I was just making sandwiches."

In the kitchen Nadia is cutting sandwiches like she's envisioning my mother's neck beneath the blade and right now I'm on team Nadia.

"Hello Nadia," my mother says. "You're even more beautiful in person.

"Hello," Nadia says, without looking up from the sandwiches.

I want to ask what in the hell is going on but at this point I'm not sure I want to know. So I don't say a word. I'll ask later. After Rebecca and her girls go home. Wait...did Niko come from upstairs?

The only person moving is Nadia. The rest of us are all standing around trying to figure out how to make the situation less awkward. Jeffrey has yet to say a word and I can't figure out if he's happy to see her, or pissed that she dare step foot in his house after walking out on him all those years ago.

"Oh, my God, this is ridiculous," Nadia says slamming the knife down on the countertop. "What are you doing here?"

"Nadia!" Rebecca, Jeffrey and Niko shout together.

"You will give every respect afforded to the Alpha's mate." Rebecca says.

Is it just me or is it weird that the Alpha's mate and his queen are not the same person?

Nadia looks ready for her head to explode, after it turns in circles on her neck, but she doesn't say anything. Her eyes are too bright with unshed tears but there's disgust and angry in her face that contorts it into something ugly. She really hates us.

"Helllooooo....anyone home?"

"Nahla!" Niko screams with glee and takes off in the direction of the front door, leaving the rest of us standing in a semi-circle trying to figure out what the next move is. I think Rebecca and Jeffrey are afraid to leave their oldest alone with me and mother. They should be and I'm glad that they stay behind.

Niko drags Nahla in the room and I almost laugh as her mouth drops open.

"Surprise!" Niko yells.

Nahla's wearing jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt with a screen printed emblem that I don't recognize; it could be a car symbol or the sign of a superhero. Her hair is loose and hangs down to her waist in soft waves. She has on flip-flops. Her eyes are almost too large for her face. Words like "cute" and "button" have been used to describe her nose and her lips are small and bow-shaped. She looks like a doll.

"You must be the Aldolfa," she says to mom.

Mother's smile is tight like she wants to object to the title.

"It's very nice to meet you Nahla."

To my surprise mother leans forward and Nahla offer her the same greeting I'd gotten. I kiss between my bottom lip and chin.

"Mother has told me much about you and your time in the pack before you left. I'm glad to have the chance to actually spend time with father's mate."

I wince. So does my mother, but again she doesn't say anything.

### **-**

The park is in the center of the neighborhood, right next to the school. Nadia is doing her pouty, spoiled brat thing and Niko is poking the lion with a stick with every word. Rebecca is playing referee and Jeffrey is walking around like a peacock. My mother left before he became alpha, but all the older wolves know her, and the younger ones know of her. A deep-seated uneasiness has settled in the pit of my stomach. Jeffrey, Rebecca and my mother had to make a choice and while it worked, there were three incomplete people walking around pretending like their life was all sunshine and roses.

The atmosphere is a little bit church picnic and a little bit small town carnival, complete with tables lined with home-cooked food and booths set up under trees as people sell everything from handmade clothes to jewelry and furniture. Kids are running around playing, adults are talking and laughing. It's hard to believe we've all gathered to watch two grown men fight.

In the center of it all is a raised covered platform with several seats. Three of the chairs couldn't be mistaken for anything other than thrones, with their deep ornate carvings and royal blue and gold cushions. Does the queen sit next to the king or his wife?

People speak to me as I weave through the crowd taking it all in. It's weird but fun. I wonder how many of these they have in a year. I'm checking out some handmade jewelry made of spoons when the hair on the back of neck and arms stand up and the pit of my stomach feels like a thousand butterfly wings are tickling it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, lose myself in the sensation, reveal in the phenomenon that has changed my life forevermore. When I open them I turn.

Titus is at least twenty feet from me. Standing still, staring at me. Yesterday I would have thought he was mad. And maybe he is, but that's down low, beneath the want and need that overrides all else when we're near each other. My mother is crazy for denying herself this.

I walk to him and I don't know if it's the mating magic or if the world has slowed down and people clear a path as I make my way to him. With every step Titus is less fierce, or maybe it's me just getting resigned to the fact that he'll always be this difficult. When I reach him I do what my body wants. I kiss him. Not a peck on the cheek, or lips. A long deep kiss that tells him how much I've missed him, or at least how much my body has. When we break apart the world is moving at regular speed again. Titus squeezed me to him tighter for a second before releasing my waist.

"I see your mother has arrived?"

"Yeah, it's been a very interesting morning." I say.

We hold hands and walk around looking at the wares offered at each booth. The silence between us is surprisingly comfortable considering how things went the night before. When we make our way towards the platform all the women-folk of my family are grouped in a circle. Nadia is the first that sees me coming and the already sour look on her face worsen. She looks like she holding herself back from slapping the shit out of me by a thin thread.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Seating arrangement,' Nahla says with a sigh that is all exasperation.

I look at the platform behind the group. "Rebecca should sit on Jeffrey's right and Mother on his left."

"See," Rebecca says, waving a hand at me and nodding her head.

"Absolutely not" mother says at the same time.

I look between the two of them and when my mother looks at Nadia I know what the problem is, or who.

"Let me guess, the left is where Nadia usually sits," I say, sighing because Nadia is about to get slapped. I don't care who or how strong she is.

"Yeah, but she's only been a bench warmer. The seat is actually yours," Niko says.

Nadia takes a step in her sister's direction but Rebecca grabs the older girl's arm.

"If it's so important that you display your royal station in the pecking order why don't you just have a chair pulled up and sit next to your mother or mine, or wherever the third most honored spot is," I say.

"You don't get to come in here and bark orders at me," Nadia says.

"I'm not barking orders I'm giving a suggestion."

"What about you?" Rebecca asks.

I walk to the front and hop up on the platform at Jeffrey's feet. "Right here is fine."

"You do know that sitting at our feet you acknowledge that everyone is above you in rank and status in the family," Niko says.

"Like I care," I answer.

The men of the hour make their way to the clearing as Jeffrey climbs the steps of the platform. There are bleachers to the left and the rest of the square is made up of bodies. Kids are on the shoulders of their parents, people are sitting on blankets, the crowd is eerily quiet as Christopher and his challenger arrives. Christopher looks that much bigger bare-chested, hills and valleys are cut into a body any professional bodybuilder would be proud to call his own. He is the size of a smart car, at least. His opponent isn't much smaller, and while he isn't cut up with muscle he does look solid. Both men have on shorts and neither have on shoes. Once each man takes his place within the clearing everyone in a spooky almost machine like unity looks at the platform...at Jeffrey.

He stands—larger than life. He really is the biggest man I've ever seen in real life but I certainly understand why he is the leader. It isn't just his size, it's the heat I've been feeling—the power—of his beast, it radiates off him. I'm surprise I don't see wavy air around him.

"The rules and laws that govern this pack are older than the nation we call home. The first alpha and his small group of wolves crossed the ocean fleeing a miserable existence in search for a better life. They laid the groundwork for what we have today. A pack three-hundred strong, financially stable, and a love so strong we are not pack, we are family, all brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, nieces and nephews."

The words he speak are heavy, landing on my skin and sinking into my body, finding their way to my heart and mind. I turn my head to look back over the crowd, at the people that Jeffrey rules and see...respect, love, and adoration. He is a good alpha, a good man, a good mate, and a wonderful father. I see that in the love of his children and that of Rebecca.

I look at my mother who's looking at Jeffrey the same way. She loves him. The still talk. I'd say Jeffrey stays with Rebecca out of loyalty or some strange werewolf rule but I've seen how he looks at her. It's impossible to ignore how similar their situation is to mine. The question is...what will I do?

There was no referee no bell or whistle or shot to signal the beginning of the fight. Each man came out of his prospective corner swinging. The fight on my front lawn seems light years away but I remember the savageness of it. The one taking place before me is just as bad, worse because each of the fighters are just so darn big. I wince at every punch landed and work at not hiding my face in Titus's shoulder, but thankfully the fight is short lived. My breath comes out in a large sigh of relief when Christopher delivers a punch that knocks the other guy unconscious.

Men rush out to help the down fighter, but more are patting Christopher on the back. The people are loud and rambunctious. All but one. His eyes are fixed on me.

I hold my breath as he makes his way through the throng of congratulatory people and stops directly in front of me. I grip the edge of the stage, about to stand up and shoo him off but Titus lays a hand on my forearm. A light touch that stops my next move.

The crowd has gotten quiet and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

"For the lady's favor," the man says, looking at Titus.

"My pleasure," Titus says and it's my turn to lay a hand on him as he pushes off the platform.

He turns and my bones turn to mush as he pulls me into his arms, tangles a hand in my hair and kisses me like it's the first and last kiss he'll ever give or receive. My mouth is still open when he takes a step from me and I gasp, not at the sight of his chest when he whips his shirt over his head and throws it to the ground, but at the cocky smile and wink he gives me right before he turns to face his challenger.

"I think I might actually swoon," Niko says from beside me. She's left her spot on the platform. Had she come for emotional support?

"I know...right," I say taking her hand.

Titus bends down to unlace his shoes. He's worn a t-shirt and running pants and for some reason I can't see the clothing being a regular part of his wardrobe. I also notice how incredibly small the man is. Not much taller than my five-five frame. Which is why we fit so perfectly. The man he's fighting is not as tall as Jeffrey or Christopher but there's almost a foot taller, and his arms are as thick as Titus' trim waist.

"Just remember..." Niko says, "It's not the size of the dog in the fight—"

"It's the fight in the dog," Nahla says joining us. "And there's a lot of fight in your wolf."

Titus's opponent toes off his shoes but unlike the smaller man he has on jeans and a button down; not fight clothes. As if the last thing he thought about when he got dressed this morning was getting into a fist-fight.

"Can't we stop this," I say, my voice an octave higher than it normally is.

"Why would we want to do that," Niko says with pure glee in her voice. "It's been ages since we've had a real fight."

"What do you mean ages? Where were you five minutes ago?"

"That," she says waving her hand, "That was nothing."

"I know it was short but..."

"Nothing is as fierce as a mating fight," Nahla says.

"I don't know that man," I say a little too loudly. I take a deep breath and try to calm down. I fail.

"Something in you has called his wolf."

"But what about Titus? I've already called his wolf."

"But you've not mated with him," Nahla answers.

"And this will happen until I do," I say looking back at the two men. "Until Titus marks me?"

"Or until you...consummate the union." Niko says.

"Oh."

It's all I had.

Jeffrey is once again up and at the front of the platform with his hands raised to quiet the excited crowd.

"Our pack no longer fight to the death in mating challenges," Jeffrey says looking at Titus.

Titus nods his understanding.

"What the fu—" I start but the rest of my words are drown out.

"Then may the strongest wolf win!"

Jeffrey sits down and my heart stops in my chest. I suddenly see what my mother was talking about. If Titus's losses...

"I'm not mating him." I say to myself—out loud.

"You reserve the right to deny him," Nahla says.

"But why would you," Niko asks. "James is a worthy mate."

"I don't know James," I say.

Before Niko or Nahla could say anything else the fight begins.

Titus is on the balls of his feet shifting his weight from foot to foot when James lumbers forward like an old-school heavy weight. He's as solid as the first fighter in a way that makes you think of trees. He throws a big beefy fist at Titus' same size head. Titus leans back, ducks under his arm and throws a body shot that catches James in the side. The strength behind the punch catches James off guard and he brings his arms in to protect his body.

Punches are thrown, some land some don't. Each time Titus is hit I swear I can feel it but I also feel each of Titus' punches that land. These two magnificent men are fighting for the right to have me. It's barbaric on a level I'd don't think I'll ever understand but it's also hot as hell. A no-holds-barred, bare-knuckle, beat-down. My breathing is panted for an entirely different reason the first time James goes down. Unfortunately it isn't a knockout punch.

The excited shouts of the crowed are like thunder and lightning. I don't scream or yell my support or disappointment like the rest because my eyes follow my wolf. Every punch thrown or received, every drop of sweat that falls from his body, the blood that covers his chin from his split lip, is testament of his feelings for me. He'll never stop and he won't lose.

An uppercut from James sends Titus's head up and back and the crowd gets quiet because it's a strike that should have broken bones, or at the very least ended the fight. But Titus shakes it off like it's little more than a love tap. James, frustrated, and probably tired, charges like a bull across the opening. Titus side-steps the charging man and throws his body up and around mounting James' back. His arms form a choke hold and James's sweaty face soon turns red as he fights for air. Titus rides James' body to the ground as the man goes unconscious.

The crowd is silent. Probably in disbelief that the smaller man had come out the victor. I know I would have been but I've seen him fight three against one and come out on top. Titus stands triumphantly over the down fighter and the laser-pointer stare is a command. He's won, he wants his spoils.

I intend to deliver.

The shouts of congratulations and moans of disappointment are drowned out as I release my half-sisters' hands and walk toward Titus on legs that are filled with lead. He takes a single step, so he's no longer straddling James. I stop in front of him, so close a breath would make us touch and look over the front of his body; sweaty, and red in the spots where James mighty fists landed punch after punch. His body is tight, the muscles in his chest jumping, the veins in his arms corded, as if he's still fighting.

When my eyes make it to his face his eyes are on fire. I don't need the dark to know that there's light in his pupils, I can feel the heat on my face.

"Are you hurt?" I ask. It's a slap-your-forehead question. I'm looking at his bruised and bloodied body. Of course he's hurt.

"No," he answers, just like he's not bruised and bloodied.

"You won," I say.

"You doubted?"

I shake my head.

"Then give me what's mine, Nicole."

I didn't have to take a step. I just had to lean forward, but Titus stopped me by placing a hand on my shoulder.

I stand, confused, but only a second. I turn my head to the side and offer my neck. The place he'd bitten me the night before. Titus buries his nose into my skin and takes a breath that pimples my skin and sends a chill up my spin. He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him.

"It's not the spot you'll wear my mark, but it'll do."

What?

My heat kicks beneath my breastbone as he places his teeth on my skin and bite down. Not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough for me to gasp as pain and pleasure takes my breath.

### Monday Evening

The house is filled with people and no one is using their inside voice. I'm sitting at the kitchen table nursing the same drink I'd sat down with thirty minutes ago. I'm not a lush or anything but I usually don't let the ice melt in my drink. But warring emotions stop me from being able to eat or drink. Every seat at the table is filled but people leave me alone. Like they know I'm trying to come to grips with my new life, or make the decision on whether I'm staying or not. My eyes constantly scan the room filled with happy, smiling, laughing people. Titus' mating challenge is the talk of the room. You'd think he'd slain a giant or taken down Godzilla at how he's being treated. He's been in the middle of a circle of men since we got back to the house and that includes Christopher who I feel should be just a little peeved since he'd fought to hold his place in the pack as beta and not over something as simple as a girl.

Jeffrey is not included in the swarm of men; he's sitting at the table with me. Talking to those who stop to talk to him, but mostly sitting...and watching. His eyes wander between the two women standing in the kitchen: Rebecca and my mother. If I had to guess my emotions are not the only ones warring.

Jeffrey slowly turns his head to look at me and we stare at each other for a few seconds without saying anything but there's communication going on. There are a thousand things I want to ask and say and there are a thousand replies and answers he has.

"I remember you. Not your human face, but the wolf. And I remember asking mom about the dog I use to have as a little girl. She told me it wasn't a dog, it was a wolf. I loved that wolf," I say, my words becoming thick with emotion, "I remember that. I loved him with all my heart and one day I ask my mother for another one."

Jeffrey is silent but I can tell there's a storm going on inside him too.

"But she said I couldn't have one, that I'd never have another. Not like Freki. That's the name Mom gave you," I say smiling. "It was years later that I learned who and what Freki was and just now has it all fallen into place and makes sense."

"Don't make the same mistake your mother made. Don't walk away from something that is so wonderful. He loves you. For him, you are his first and last breath, his sun and moon and stars."

I shake my head, look down, and then up again and find Titus staring right at me. "What about Tristan," I ask.

Jeffrey leans back in his chair and blow out a bumfuzzled breath and shrugs. "Who knows, but better still, who cares. You'll have the love of two wolves."

After his fight, surrounded by all those people, he's claimed me...again. I'm not in the habit of lying, especially to myself, and I'm not going to start now.

"You've made your decision," Jeffrey says.

I nod without taking my eyes from Titus. I feel lighter, freer, like a weight has been lifted.

"Nicole," Jeffrey says in a low voice. "I have loved you since the moment your mother told me she was pregnant. Time and distance can't and won't ever change that. You are my first born. I love all my daughters, but there's a special place in one's heart for the first, the one that makes a man a father. I am proud of you, proud of the woman you've become. I love you."

I look down at my drink, my vision's blurry from the tears forming.

"We've lost so much time and in so many ways I feel exactly like I did the very first moment Teresa placed you in my arms, when you were brand new and all I could see was the future we had together. A lifetime of firsts. But you're not a little girl, I've missed so much."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the first tear breaking free. The single drop darkens a spot on the tablecloth. A hand lands on my shoulder before the second drop appears. It's Titus.

"My love, there's no reason for you to apologize, none of this was your fault. That blame lies with me and your mother. She shouldn't have taken you away and I shouldn't have allowed it. We were both wrong. I can't imagine what you must be going through, so much happening so soon but I know that it's not too much for you. You'll make sense of it...you'll have excellent teachers. As a father I want you here for the rest of your life, to make up for the last twenty years I've missed, but as a mated wolf I understand that's not the path your life will take. You will always be welcome in this pack and in this house and I look forward to the years to come but right now I think you should go to your wolves. Find out if this is something you want."

I nod because is there anything left to say?

Tuesday Morning

The knock at the door doesn't wake me. I've been tossing and turning since the fight party ended and we all went to bed. If only things could slow down, but talk about your pipe dreams. I'm not sure what my expectations were when I decided to come, but nothing seems settled. My sisters have happiness and I'm not angry but I do feel cheated. Who would I have been if my mother had stayed with Jeffrey? Nahla, Nadia and Niko would not exist. Maybe Rebecca would have married someone else and had children with a man who loved her and only her. My mother...no, nothing would have changed my mother, but life certainly would have been different with Jeffery in my corner to smooth out her rough edges.

I walk across the room, and no amount of crazy that has happened prepares me for seeing Titus and Tristan standing at the bedroom door.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

They may look identical but it's easy enough to tell them apart. If you know what to look for. Tristan is softer than Titus; from the expression on his face to his way of dress.

"We need to talk to you," Titus says before Tristan answers. "May we?" He asks nodding into my room.

"Oh, yeah....of course," I say opening the door wider.

I'm in a t-shirt and panties which is fine when you don't have two men in your room. I don't even own a robe to put on. It doesn't take long to realize my state of undress is the last thing on either man's mind.

"We have to leave sooner than we expected," Tristan says.

They're both standing in the bedroom just on the other side of the closed door.

"Okay," I say and walk on wobbly legs to the edge of the bed and sit down. "How soon?"

"End of the week...Friday," Titus says.

"That soon," I say, gripping the edge of the bed.

"We wanted to give you more time, but we simply don't have it to give," Tristan says.

I feel like I'm on an out of control roll-coaster. First it was just the breaks not working, then it was the harness giving, now the tracks are coming apart.

"I understand," I say, not understanding at all.

My entire world has turned into a great big ball of unknown. I understand the quickening of my heart, fluttering in my stomach and goose-bumps on my skin when I'm in the presence of these two men is testament of how I feel about them but not the why. I understand the gut-punch feeling to Tristan's words is the hurt of losing them but not why I feel this way, because I don't know him. Either of them.

"We'd like you to come with us," Tristan says.

"Come with you?"

"Yes," he says, crossing the room and kneeling at my feet.

God, he's so beautiful it hurts to look at him so I look away, only to look right back at that gorgeous face standing across the room. So I look away again.

"Nick, if there was any other way—" he begins.

I cut him off. "Stay."

"We cannot," Titus answers.

"But you said you had until next Friday."

I sound like a spoiled brat. I don't like the sound, but I'm powerless to stop myself. All that's left for me to do is to pout. "What's happened?" I ask trying to sound more like an adult.

"Someone has died," Tristan says.

"What? Who," I say with real concern. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Tristan says, and takes my hand from the bed and kisses the palm. "We didn't know Thomas personally but we've been told his lost is great. Come with us."

Hadn't I just told Jeffrey I'd made my decision? Then why am I waffling now?

"I thought I had more time," I say aloud.

"Would a week really have made the difference," Titus asks.

"I suppose not," I answer.

"At least come home with us while we pack up the house," Tristan says.

I don't look at either of them, but I nod.

What else could I do?

"Hey," Tristan says placing a finger beneath my chin and lifting my face so that I had to look at him.

I smile because he's smiling. "That's better," he says. "It won't be all bad. We have three days."

"Three days," I repeat.

Hell, the last three days have felt like three seconds. What was three days? Who makes life-altering decisions in three days?

Me.

That's who.

Tristan and I stand up and I try to deal with the latest round of what life has thrown my way.

"Well, I guess I need to get dress and say good-bye to everyone."

"Titus and I will be downstairs...unless you need help," Tristan says.

My entire body blushes at the thought. My skin is practically jumping up and down screaming, _YES, PLEASE!_

"Don't tease her Tristan, come," Titus says from his spot near the door.

If Titus stern sounding words are the command they sound like Tristan isn't obeying. At least not right away. He never lose the easy smile on his face.

"We haven't greeted our mate properly," Tristan says. The smile stays in place but suddenly it's too hot. "What kind of mates do that make us?"

"Bad ones?" I say playing along.

He nods, "Very bad indeed."

"Titus won a fight," I say. My words are whispered, barely registering in my ears because Tristan is leaning in for a kiss.

He puts one arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. "I heard," he says as the fingers of his other hand slides into my hair.

I wet my lips seconds before our mouths join. The first kiss is a simply smack on the lips. The second a longer one. The third is... there are no words. I wrap my arms around him and try to crawl right into him via his mouth. He's the first to break the kiss and I moan. He chuckles.

"We'll be downstairs waiting," he says losing his hold on me slowly.

I know the feeling. It's the last thing I want too. Titus steps forward and slides an arm around my waist. His hold and his kiss are hard. They're both possessive, and show ownership. And that's fine by me.

"Wow," I say.

The elusive Titus smile almost breach the surface. He backs away. So does Tristan

They join hands as they leave the room. They're a couple. It's easy to forget. It's also strange. Last week I would have thought it impossible for me to be even contemplating what we're about to attempt. Today, I just can't wait to get to a more private setting to see what happens.

I pull the t-shirt over my head headed for the shower. My time with Jeffrey and his other children was too short. But I have to prioritize. They aren't going anywhere. Tristan and Titus are. I'll give then three days. And then...who knows?

Tuesday afternoon

This time it isn't humidity making me sweat, I'm nervous. I sit between the two of them in the back of a chauffeured car wondering what the next few hours will bring. I agreed we needed alone time to get to know each other but that entailed so much more than favorite food and color. The sexual tension between the three of us is thick...too thick for even the preverbal knife. All too soon we're pulling into a neighborhood. Damned that driver and his lead foot.

The large Mediterranean is just shy of mansion size. I stand outside the car gazing at the front of the house as the men get the bags.

"Home sweet home," Tristan says next to me. Titus takes the lead without speaking.

He doesn't pull keys from his pocket, he presses his finger on a pad above the doorknob, there's also a keypad. There's a whirring as the deadbolt unlocks and he pushes the door open. He steps to the side, allowing me first entry into the house, but I don't have more than a second to take in the beautifully decorated interior. Titus pushes open a set of double doors that open into a study, we pass through a second set of opened glass doors where yet another set of doors are opened.

The master bedroom is smaller than I would have guessed and the furnishings do not match the rest of the house. The bedroom is barren: a low platform bed, a large leather high-back chair and a table with a small lamp on it.

My stomach is in knots, and I swallow past the nervous building in the back of my throat. This sparsely lit room is too intimate, even with the curtains thrown open and bright noonday sunshine damn near blinding me.

"Sit down Nicole," Titus instructs me.

I sit.

I keep my eyes on Tristan, who is closing the drapes instead of Titus who is removing his clothes. Talk about no warm-up.

"Turn on the lamp beside you."

I do as I'm told and not a second too soon. We're left in near perfect darkness when Tristan closes the last set of drapes. I try to keep my mouth close when Tristan reaches Titus. It's impossible to miss that Titus is aroused. His erection is thick, standing from his body. Titus holds Tristan's head and plunders his mouth. The kiss is hard, all consuming, almost punishing. I squeeze my thighs together because it's also hot as hell. Titus breaks away from the kiss but continues to hold Tristan's head. Their breathing is fast, their chests rising and falling in sync as they stare at each other for long moments. I feel like a voyeur. Tristan leans in and kisses Titus, the act the polar opposite of what had been given seconds ago. The kiss is slow, tender, and sensual. I know these kisses. I'd been on the receiving end of both.

Tristan, fully clothed, gets on his knees. I'm hypnotized as I watch him grab Titus's erection, slide his hand the length of it and takes it into his mouth. I breathe in shallow sips of air, in and out of my mouth, my nipples are hard and achy, trapped in the confines of a bra that is suddenly too tight. My sex throbs and my panties are wet. Titus is a god. Every muscle is tight as he watches Tristan. His hands are fisted at his side, as if he's afraid to touch the man on his knees in front of him. My hands are gripping the armrests hard enough that my nails are embedded in the leather. I'm squirming in my seat, pushing my hips back and forth. Tristan head bobs, each time his lips getting closer and closer to Titus's body until he takes the full length and his lips touches Titus's pubic bone. Titus grabs the back of Tristan's head and holds him in place. Tristan's hands grip Titus's thighs, high, right beneath his ass, his hold becoming tighter the longer Titus holds his head. I stop breathing, unable to take a breath until Tristan can. Finally Titus releases him. Tristan and I take great gulps of air. A second one is not allowed as Titus fills his mouth again. His hips pumping as his hand guides Tristan's head. He fucks Tristan's mouth in a punishing pace. His body becomes rigid, then jerks as he comes. My throat works as I swallow, and swallow again until Titus pulls out of Tristan's mouth slowly and lowers himself in front of the man. My body becomes lax and I collapse in the chair, confused, excited, burning for more and yet sated at the same time. Tristan smiles at Titus and to my surprise, he smiles back. He touches the bite on Tristan's neck then lays a hand on Tristan's cheek, a soft, loving touch and kisses him. Not the hard, brutal kiss meant to show ownership he'd given in the beginning, a soft joining of the lips. In the kiss is devotion and love.

Slowly they stand and Titus starts undressing Tristan. As each article of clothing falls to the ground Titus pause long enough to kiss Tristan. Slow, deep kisses I can feel in the soles of my feet, until Tristan is naked and it's not only their faces that look identical.

Feelings I've never had washes over me, a deep penetrating warmth that starts in my chest and radiates out until my fingers and toes tingle. I watch, mesmerized, caught up in the moment and the foreign sensations. They climb on the bed with Titus reaching around Tristan's body and grabs his erection. A slow pull that takes long seconds from root to tip. Tristan leans his head to the side, exposing the bite on his neck and my jaw drop when I see Titus's teeth. I think I prefer vampires.

Not only has his canines grown, the man has a mouthful of pointed sharp teeth. He strike hard and fast. I cry out as Tristan draws in a gasp of air .Tristan's stomach is covered in thick ropes of milky white semen and my body starts to jerk as I come. Eruption...combustion...ecstasy, these are the words that flash on my closed lids. When I open my eyes, and am able to focus, it's Titus that I see first and he's staring right at me, his eyes glowing. He looks fearsome, terrifying, a thing to be avoided at all cost. The men collapse on the bed with Titus's hand still fisted around Tristan; it works slowly as Tristan moves his hips back and forth. Titus licks the wound on Tristan's neck while he strokes him. Every lap of his tongue send shivers down my body. At long last he stops, speaks low words that I can't make out. Tristan releases the hold he has on Titus's arm where it falls to the mattress, palm up, beckoning me. He gives me the slow blinks of a well fucked person. Titus lifts his head, setting his burning gaze on me again. While Tristan is calling me, Titus's eyes warns. If I get in the bed, if I go anywhere near them now, all bets are off.

I think I'm alright with that.

I grip the armrests and push myself up from the chair. I feel unsteady; my steps slow only because each one sends tiny waves of pleasure skipping along my skin. I cross the room in slow motion, both men watching my every move. I climb in and lie on Tristan's outstretched arm.

"Are you alright," he asks.

I lick my lips and say, "Yeah."

"I'm glad," he says, pulling me closer to him. "We're going to touch you now."

He kisses me. My bones are liquid. A hand on my thigh works its way beneath my dress and Titus growls when his fingers run across the crotch of my panties, I'm wet, sopping. He applies pressure to my clit, and starts a slow circular rub that has me rounding my hips and moaning in Tristan's mouth as he works his hand into the top of my dress, inside my bra and thumbs my nipple. Titus's finger swirls faster and faster, while Tristan kisses me harder, pulling and pinching a nipple until my orgasm shatters me into a million pieces, bowing my back, causing me to scream out. God, every nerve ending is alight. I've never experienced anything even remotely close to this.

The bite is red and angry looking but new skin has already formed in the holes left by Titus's teeth. I reach up between our bodies and run my fingers over the mark and Tristan's shudder. I jerk my hand back.

"It feels good," he says in a low voice.

Gently, the lightest of touch, I run my finger around the perfect impression, by the time I'm back at the beginning Tristan's eyes are closed and our breathing is uneven. I feel the beginnings of an erection on my thigh. Two fingers are slips between my open lips. Titus leans over the other man, working his fingers slowly in and out of my mouth. They taste like come, Tristan's. He finger-fucks my mouth, keeps me trapped with his gaze as I rub the bite on Tristan's neck and suck his fingers. The faster his fingers are pushed in and out of my mouth the faster I circle Tristan's bite until Tristan's cries out and Titus shoves his fingers damn near down my throat, gagging me. Dampness spreads through my dress as Tristan's continues to hump my leg.

"I want my dick in your throat by week's end." He pauses, allowing the words to sink in. "Can you do that for me, Nicole?"

I nod. One, his fingers are still in my mouth and two, I'm shocked by the instruction and the delivery. So crude, so matter-of-fact, so fucking hot.

"Use your words," he says, removing his fingers.

"Yeah, I can do that."

Tuesday Evening

I look at the plate that Titus slid across the island: grilled goat cheese with spinach, avocado and fresh basil pesto sandwich. When I say fresh, I mean I watched the man walk out to a pretty nice size pot garden and pick basil. Next to it is a big glass of ice cold coconut green tea.

"Eat," he orders.

I pick up the sandwich.

It's delicious.

He picks up half of his sandwich and chews while staring at me. I focus on my food rather than stare back. It's not the staring that's unnerving; it's the intensity of it. That and he's missing his shirt. I know I'm wearing his, but surely to God he has another. I can't look at him for fear the food will drop out of my mouth as I ogle his naked chest. It's not enough that he's shirtless, he's left the button to his jeans open and the zipper is not all the way up. His pants hang precariously low on his hips. An inch, less than an inch, and he'd be indecent. And from the back...I've never seen such beautiful crack. It calls to me.

I have a million questions. I open my mouth and say, "So, how does it work. Are you always the dominant?"

Titus sandwich is at his lips. "Yes," he says, and takes a bite that finishes half of the section.

"So, you're the alpha in the pair?"

"No," he answers, finishing the sandwich and washing it down with a long gulp of tea.

When it becomes obvious that's all I'm going to get from the man I turn to the other.

"So, do you ever want to..."

Tristan laughs when I pause as I try to come up with lady-like phrasing to ask if he ever wants to be the one giving instead of receiving. I turn a color close to crimson I'm sure.

"It's been a long time since we had to break things down to on this level to someone," Tristan says, still chuckling.

"So, you do this often?" I ask.

"Not exactly," he answers.

Over the course of our relationship we have occasionally taken a third, but no one so..." Titus pauses.

"Green," Tristan fills in.

"But this is not us taking a woman or man to bed for sexual gratification, you are our mate, our bodies and our beasts craves you,' Titus says.

There goes that restraint. Heaven forbids he ever gets angry with me. His stare is scorching and I'm trapped. I can't take my eyes from his. I feel the desire, and the control that its taking him to stay rooted. It warms my face, my upper body, it dances along my skin, especially between my legs

"There are things I want to do to you. Things that are pleasurable, even if they bring you pain."

My mouth opens and I try to regulate my breathing.

"You'll learn to trust us, Nicole. Nothing we want, or want to do to you is about pain, it's all about pleasing each other and you."

"Okay, I say, a little breathless.

"There is no stop, when we're together your body belong to us, to do with as we please."

I nod, because I'm a little busy trying not to hyperventilate.

"I can smell your arousal." The sound that comes from him is nothing short of a purr. "I want to taste you, Nicole."

I want that too, I want it more than I want my next breath. "Yes."

He backs away from the counter, and walks around it slowly. As if he's trying not to run, or giving me a chance _to_ run. When he's next to me he takes a deep breath. I do the same. Mine is to rein in some of the blistering need coursing through my body, I feel as if my atoms are a second away from scattering in the wind, but Titus wasn't reining in anything, he's taking in my scent, the scent of my arousal dampening the chair I'm sitting in. Titus's hand goes to my hair, he pulls my head back, the other goes between my legs. I open them wider and gasp when he inserts two fingers in me as far as they'll go. Slow in and out movements that make me burn as hot as his gaze. Way too quickly he stops and brings his hand up, and sticks his fingers in his mouth and suck noisily, greedily.

Delicious," he whispers. "I can't wait to fuck you."

My heart is pounding so hard I feel it in my temples and I damn near skip to the bedroom.

Both men at my feet staring down at me, looking like I'm the main course of a mouth-watering meal. I'm not bashful, I know what I look like naked, but I've never been laid out before two men, buck-ass naked with every light in the room on either. It feels like an eternity passes before either man moves. Titus's hands move to his zipper, the zipper that's already mostly down, and pulls the tab so slowly that I can hear each tooth of the chain give way. He pushes his jeans down and his erection springs free. He grabs himself and strokes in long lazy pulls, tilts his head to the side and continue to study me, as if he's trying to figure out where to start. Tristan is standing at his side, still motionless, but his gaze is just as laser focused. His hair is loose and hangs around his shoulders in soft curls. He's not wearing pants, he'd tied a blue and green paisley sarong around his hips. Who knew a man could look so sexy in a skirt. Titus climbs into bed, grab my knees and open my legs as far as they'll go and just look. Tristan sits next to me, drawing my attention away from Titus. He takes over holding my knees, holding me open for Titus as he lowers. The assault on my clit bows my back, bringing the top of my body off the bed, but not far, because Tristan's body is half on top of mine. Titus's masterful tongue and fingers stoke a fire I didn't know existed inside me. The sounds I make are guttural and as wild as the orgasm that burns through me like scalding water.

"Hands and knees," Tristan says. How can they expect me to move? But I do. "Head on the bed." I lower my upper body, keeping my ass in the air. I feel a pair of hands on the back of my thighs and cool air in the crack of my ass. I damn near crawl out my skin when a hot tongue run up it, circling the pucker hole.

Hands in my hair lift my body from the bed. The rigid length of a dick is centimeters from my mouth. I don't wait for instructions. The strokes are shallow, stopping just before my gag reflex kicks in. Titus has given me until week's end to swallow him completely. It's a task I intend on completing. The hold on my hips controls the back of my body in the same way the one in my hair controls the front. My body tenses when a finger pushes into my ass. I take more of the erection in my mouth as I'm entered from behind. With each thrust balls slap against my clit, paired with the finger sliding in and out of my ass and the dick in my mouth I come screaming.

"I'm going to come in your mouth." Each word is strained and the hands in my hair are nearly balding me in their grip. Hips punch forward and my sex contract around a throbbing dick as the other kicks in my mouth and flood it with the slick, saltiness of his semen. What I can't swallow drips from the corners of my mouth. My hair is pulled until I'm kneeling. The kiss offered radiate through my body and the same is offered to the man at my back. Sandwiched between the two men, watching them kiss, I'm lost in a tidal wave of emotions at the prospect of me being a part of this long term.

I think I can deal.

### Wednesday Morning

Sleeping between the two is like standing between an open fire and a furnace. I'm sweaty, with an achy body and happier than I've ever been and horny. Images from the night before flickering behind my closed lids. The things done to me and that I'd done... I want more.

A low rumbling sound come from behind me. A body presses against the back of mine. I can feel an erection sliding against my backside.

"Do you want us?" Titus whispers against my skin, taking a leg and placing it across his hip so that I'm open wide and his dick slides between my legs. "Answer me," Titus orders.

The word is barely a whisper, "Yes."

I'm tender from the colossal fucking last night but it stills feels good when he's seated inside me. I gasp when he pinches and pulls my equally sore nipple. There'd been a lot of that last night, in addition to biting. They like it rough. I'm learning, so do I. All pain is forgotten when Tristan kisses me, in his slow, all-consuming way. Between the kiss and feeling his erection pressed against my stomach I don't know if I'd noticed if Titus was pulling my nipple completely from my body. Tristan leaves my lips and plant kisses down my body, stopping to kiss away the pain in my nipple, licking and sucking it and then the other before continuing his downward trek. Titus places a hand around my throat and squeezes at the same time Tristan sucks the harden nub of my clit. My body bucks as I orgasm, the screams of pleasure cut off from the pressure of Titus's hand. Riding the high that these two have to offer is something I don't think I'll ever get used to. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.

Titus's hips works fast and I feel him growing and becoming harder inside me and he holds me tight as he comes. Two down, one to go. Tristan kisses Titus and there's something so erotic in the thought of my taste being passed between the two of them in that kiss. They're still kissing when it's my turn to lower in the bed. I grab Tristan's erection, squeezing it as I stroked it once and start my deep-throat training. His tip hits the back of my throat making me gag but I'm determined to master the skill. Titus makes sure my retreat is not far by keeping his body close to Tristan's.

Tristan breaks away from the kiss long enough to moan, "Oh, God." His body becomes stone as his dick pulses in my mouth. My nails dig into the skin if his thigh as I swallow again and again. The last jerk of Tristan's hips has me pulled up between the two men and Titus kisses me hard and it's just as erotic to think of him tasting Tristan from my mouth and lips. Tristan turn my head and gives me a kiss I feel in the bottoms of my feet. We all three release a long breath, sated and exhausted, a tangle of arms and legs. It's heaven.

The only light in the bathroom is coming from the skylight above the shower. The entire thing is black marble and there's two sheets of glass on either side but no door. That's because there's at least ten feet from the opening to where the first shower head is spraying water. Titus is standing beneath a waterfall showerhead. With his hands in his hair and his back ached he looks like a Renaissance sculpture come to life. He's breath-taking, and I mean literally, it takes me a second to remember to breathe. Tristan's body pressing against the back of mine is the reason I move. The pulsing hot water sooth aching muscles as the three of us shower. When we're finished I feel like a new woman.

The closet Titus and Tristan share is as large as a bedroom, filled to the brim and organized to within an inch of its life. I don't have to worry about conversations on my shopping addiction. My suitcase is sitting on a bench opened but hadn't been unpacked. There's no point. They're leaving in a couple of days and I thought makes me sad and realize for the first time just how alone I am. We dress in the closet, brush our teeth, pull our wet hair into ponytails and exit the bathroom. It's so normal and feel's so right, like we've been doing it a thousand years and not the first day.

The smell of French toast greets us when we exit the bedroom and my stomach lets out a very unladylike growl.

"Worked up an appetite," Tristan teases me pulling me into his side with an arm around my waist.

"You think?" I answer.

My step falters when I see the housekeeper for the first time. At first glance she looks like a child, but that wasn't what stopped my step. She is...angelic...ethereal, her beauty is unworldly. Werewolves aren't the only mythological creatures walking the earth. She is so tiny she looks fragile, and her skin is white, not light, think alabaster, it matches her platinum hair, her natural platinum hair; hair so white it should be thin but isn't. It's pulled up into a ponytail that hangs down her back to the backs of her knees. She's wearing jeans and a white button down but the plain clothes look wrong on her. She needs something long and flowing. She's not a child but not a full grown woman. If I had to guess I'd say twenty, maybe nineteen. When she sees us she stops cooking and lower her head. Titus goes to her and strokes her hair, and says something I can't hear.

"This is Nicole," Titus says louder.

The woman's head remains lowered but she peeks up at me. "Good morning, Mistress."

I stop gapping and frown. Mistress? I'm about to comment when a man enters. He too is young, but his age is easier to gauge, I'm guessing early twenties. His skin is light brown and his dark brown hair is curly in a way that probably leaves a lot of women jealous. It makes it hard to place his ethnicity. He goes to her and rubs her arm. I'm strangely comforted in the fact the two are a couple. Up until this very moment I wouldn't have called myself an insecure woman but who could compete with someone who looks like her?

"This is Sebastian and Leila, they work for us," Tristan says besides me.

Tristan gets my feet moving by giving me a gentle nudge from behind. I take a seat at the breakfast table next to Tristan. Titus sits down next to me. Sebastian does the serving while Leila finishes up in the kitchen and soon enough the two of them leave.

I don't know where to start or if there's any starting needed. My stomach makes up my mind for me. I eat. French toast, fresh fruit, coffee and orange juice: breakfast of champions.

"Leila and Sebastian will be coming with us," Tristan says.

"So you're getting another place as big as this?" I ask.

"No, we'll be staying with the rest of the pack," Titus answers.

"And your alpha is alright with that?" I ask. I was still new, had never seen a pack except Jeffrey's, but even his house would be a bit cramped if four extra people moved in.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Tristan says.

I put my fork down. "Did you even ask?"

"Well...no, but everything will work itself out."

"So if I agree to go with you, the two of you plan on waltzing into your alpha's house with three people in tow?"

"Yes," Titus says and the look on his face is all, _and_ ....

"Don't you think that's a little, well, rude?" I say thinking about my mother, hell, even me. I'd be pissed.

"I'm sure the staff will be happy that we've brought our own. In a house that big I imagine they already have full plates."

"And how big is, _that big,_ exactly," I say, thinking it has to be pretty goddamned big.

"Pretty big," Tristan says.

I nod and keep eating because I haven't made up my mind whether or not I'm going and if I don't then none of this is my concern and if I do then I'll have to trust the two that they know what their alpha will and will not allow. Besides, it's rude to talk with a mouth full of food.

Wednesday Afternoon

I've been walking around gagging myself since this morning. Tristan and Titus are preoccupied with getting everything in place for their departure on Friday. Every time I think about it my stomach feels funny. I push the toothbrush further back until I make a very unladylike sound. Leila walks in and I damn near throw up.

"Oh...um...hi, Leila," I say wiping drool from my chin. I'm mortified but the feeling is basically wasted on the young woman. Leila simply dips her head and remains silent as she dusts the room. She's confounding that's for sure, if I'm not mistaking she's trying to figure out how to become invisible. I leave the quiet pixie to her dusting.

I've already gone in every room of the house so I'm pretty much just walking around aimlessly. The common areas of the house is the perfect balance of old meets new. But there are some rooms that are like stepping back in time. Bedrooms that make me think of women in empire waist dresses and a library that makes me think of Tara or Twin Oaks. And the landscaping is just as meticulously done. Once you set foot off the cobblestone courtyard you feel like you're in a rainforest. In the very short time I've been here and the even shorter time I've been able to explore I realize how much I like Titus and Tristan's home and how I hate that I won't be able to enjoy it.

The study door is open and Tristan and Titus both are on the phone. Tristan looks up and catches me hovering in the doorway. I've been trying to stay out of their way. He holds his hand out to me. I cross the room and get pulled into his lap. He continues the conversation in a foreign language that may be Arabic. Titus is sitting behind a large wood desk clear across the room speaking French. His stare is hard, almost an assessment of Tristan and me. I know he's worried about their relationship and he's already told me that he wouldn't lose Tristan, not even for his mate but I don't think he has anything to worry about. I like Tristan and we have a connection too, not as strong as the one I feel for Titus but the same unexplainable draw is there.

Tristan ends the call and sits the phone down. "You're bored," he says.

I shrug. I am.

"Could you start packing up the closet?" he ask.

I perk up in his lap. "Why didn't I think of that? It'll take at least two days to pack it."

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. A quick peck on the lips. I smile at him because Tristan's just one of those people that you can't help but smile at. I place my palms on his cheeks and hold his face while I give him another kiss. Not a peck on the lips, one that curl my toes. Titus is the one that makes me burn, Tristan is the one that calms me.

"Come with us Nicole," he says in a low voice, his mouth still on mine.

The feeling is that first flutter when you realize that the person you're with is possibly the one. Not the one you'll spend eternity with but the one you're willing to see if you'll spend eternity with. I've never been in love, I've liked a couple of guys, but the one or two I dated for any real amount of time never gave me butterflies. They were nice enough, rich enough, but I'd ended them because when it came time to take the next step I was never ready. A couple of dates a week and some sex I would have called great until a day ago, was all I had to offer. I didn't want that anymore. I wanted more.

I nod my head slowly. "Okay."

"Nicole," Titus says from behind me.

It's harder to read Titus. Being on the receiving end of his stormy gaze is enough to make any full grown man uneasy. He's warned me there is no us if it meant his relationship with Tristan is compromised but I don't mean to come between the two of them. I've never had to share anything in my life, but I can't think of it as sharing a boyfriend. I have to think of them both as mine, just as I'm theirs.

Titus jaw is tight, his eyes slightly squinted, even his nostrils are flaring. But he's not mad, he's excited but he's also worried. I have a feeling for the first time Titus is not in control and he doesn't like it. Not one bit. But who controls love?

"It's going to be alright," I say, because what else could it be? When he doesn't say anything I add. "You know you don't scare me, right?"

And he doesn't. I'll never have anything to fear where Titus is concern. I've seen him fight for me—twice. I don't understand all of the whys and hows and the longer I'm with the two of them the more I don't care. It doesn't matter. The only thing that does is that it happened and I want to see where it leads. I don't want to make the same mistake my parents did. I'm not walking away from the two of them and be only a fraction of the person I'm meant to be. Not without making sure being with them is absolutely the wrong choice. I walk around the desk and lean over and kiss him. A series of kisses, on his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, and finally his lips.

### **-**

I go upstairs and enter the first bedroom I come to. I call it the blue room. It's like a printing press malfunction and covered the room in powder blue toile. The wallpaper, bed spread, throw pillows and drapes are all the same.

My mother and I have never been close. There was love and respect but we aren't that mother and daughter that claims to be best friends. While I can't believe the extent she went through to keep me from finding out about my father's life, it's not hard for me to believe she did it. She's a control freak in the truest sense of the word. She's a strong, independent, woman and was an excellent role model to me. But she was wrong. I sit on the bed clutching the phone and preparing for the wrath of my mother. I'm a lot of things, a chicken isn't one of them so I press the green circle to connect the damn call.

"Nicole."

"Why," I ask. Deciding to give Tristan and Titus a chance has freed me of the anger I've had since finding out my mother's lie.

"The life of the wolf goes against everything I stand for as a woman. For five years I tried but in the end I knew it wasn't fair to Jeffrey or the pack. I knew Rebecca would take care of him."

"Then why didn't you get a divorce?" Why stay married all these years?"

"I asked, your father refused."

"Bullshit."

She knows its bullshit because she doesn't scold me for my language.

"I'm going with Titus and Tristan."

Under ordinary circumstances there would have been a long disappointed sigh, followed by an equally long list of reasons why my choice is mistake that include: I hadn't know them long enough, that it's a them and not a him. She'd accuse me of losing my mind, of ruining my reputation or worst...hers. What would her friends think? I'd sit patiently and listen, I wouldn't remind her that we were leaving the country and none of these mysterious friends would find out. She doesn't have friends, she has acquaintances, women and men she knows from on this board or that and the in clubs or charities she works on, but no one she calls on a regular basis to just shoot the shit with or a single soul that come to visit to sit and have coffee and catch up on old times. I can't remember my mother ever having a girl-friend and she never dated. After seeing her and Jeffery together I know why.

"When will you leave?"

"Friday morning, early."

"Is it alright if I come to say good-bye?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll see you soon."

The click when she ends the call is no surprise. I take a deep breath, cradling the phone to my chest. My heart beating too fast, my breathing shallow, my hands shaking. All the things she should have said running through my head because I didn't need her to say them out loud. I've made that list in my head a thousand times since I came here. A thousand times. But for once I won't use logic. What difference did any of it make when your heart pulls rank? And hearing the story of my parents, seeing Jeffrey with Rebecca and their daughters and then seeing my mother standing in the foyer of Jeffrey's house...I can't have that kind of regret in my life.

I stand up, slipping my phone in the back pocket of my jeans on my way back downstairs to the closet. Sebastian and Leila were entering the bathroom from the hall entrance as I enter the room through the bedroom.

"We've been sent to help."

"Good," I say and smile.

Come what may, these people are now a part of a new chapter I've started in my life. They didn't have family, and Tristan and Titus had taken them in and I wanted them to like me.

"Any suggestions where to start," I ask.

"I'll bring the smaller suitcases to the bathroom and the trunks in the bedroom room," Sebastian says. "Underwear, t-shirts and jeans go in those, suits, dress shirts and shoes go in the trunks."

"Alright."

Sebastian nods once and turn to leave the room with Leila hot on his heels.

"Leila, will you stay and help me, please."

Leila stops. Shed doesn't move.

"It's alright Leila," Sebastian says laying a hand on her shoulder.

I leave the two of them, pushing back the pocket doors of the closet, leaving Sebastian to talk Leila into staying with me—or not. I pull open drawers taking stock of each. The packing won't take two days. Everything is folded and put in place, organized by style and even color coded.

"Mistress," Leila says from the doorway.

I turn and smile brightly at her but she didn't see it because her eyes are downcast. One day I'll know her story, but not today. Today we'll work on her getting comfortable with me.

Wednesday Night

The closet is packed except for the few things needed for tomorrow and Friday morning when we leave. I've had heart palpitations on and off all day, every time I think about the decision I've made. Only the mystery of Leila keeps me from having a stroke or heart attack. Then entire time we were packing she didn't once speak. I'd give direction and she'd follow them. The housekeeper I grew up with, Franny, was fulltime, came every day, and practically never shut up. I loved her. The stories she had, by the time I'd moved out of my mother's house she was the grandmother I never had and I counted her as family. I call her at least once a month.

"So what's Leila's story," I ask, from my spot at the counter.

Titus is cooking dinner and Tristan and I are sous chef. At least Tristan is. While I love gourmet food, I pay for it. I'd been tasked with making the salad. Anyone can chop lettuce.

"Leila is a sex slave," Titus says.

"Titus!" Tristan says next to me. His voice says he's just as shocked as I am at the announcement and I start to laugh, because who knew my serious lover had jokes. But the laughter never makes it out of chuckle phase because of the look on both of their faces. My brow furrow, even though the smile has not quite left my lips.

"Excuse me?" I say.

"She's not _our_ sex slave," Titus says as if that cleared everything right up.

"She's not a slave at all," Tristan counters

"Excuse me," I say again.

"We did not purchase Leila but freed her from her previous master."

"How old is she?" I ask.

"Nineteen," Tristan answers.

"And she's been with you three years?"

"Yes."

I put the knife down and go find a seat because my knees are week. "That would have made her sixteen when they found her. How long had she been... I can't finish the thought because it's too horrible.

"Oh, my god," I say taking a seat before I fall down.

"We have given Leila a safe place to live and a job, offered her enough money so she should never need anything in life. But none of that changes her make up," Titus says speaking softly. He's addressing me but he's speaking to Tristan also.

"Do you have sex with her?" I ask.

"No, of course not," Tristan answers.

I breathe out a relieved breath and then sit and let everything that has been said soak in.

I swallow a few times and take a deep breath. "So is Sebastian and Leila a couple?" I ask.

"No, but not for lack of trying, on both our and Sebastian's part." Titus answer.

"What do you mean?"

"Leila needs...a...firmer hand," Tristan says.

"This can't be anything but the truth because you couldn't make this shit up," I say standing up and going to pour myself a glass of wine. A very large glass of wine. I drank half before saying, "I don't want to hear anymore." And then drank the other half. I emptied the bottle on my second pour.

"Burying your head in the sand about Leila is perhaps—"

"I can't have a slave!" I yell.

"She is not a slave," Tristan says opening a second bottle of wine and then going to the bar for something stronger.

There are no words as Titus and I watch Tristan pour the amber colored liquor in three lowball glasses. He passes out our drinks and I don't ask before taking a sip. Scotch. I'm cool with that. We take a few more sips in silence: me, letting the unexpected turn of events sink in, and them giving me space to process it all. I appreciate it.

"I'm not burying my head I'm just taking a step back. Leila's issues are something the two of you have been working on for three years and not going anywhere. Between the whole werewolf thing, finding my father and this mating phenomena I'm surprised I haven't lost my mind. We'll talk about this later.

"Okay," Tristan says.

Titus doesn't say anything just nods. We all go back to our abandon cooking stations.

Thursday Morning

I'm stuck in the middle of the ocean with a killer shark trying to destroy my boat so that I can become his next tasty treat. I'm looking for a weapon when I hear someone say, "Who in the hell is calling you this early in the morning," and "Is someone pulling into the drive?"

My lids are spring loaded.

"Fuck!" I say.

My mother.

I start to rise. "Fuck," I say again, because my entire body aches.

"Put her in the shower and I'll take care of her parents."

"Parents?" I say to Tristan's back as he climbs from bed. After sleeping sandwiched between the two, a tangle of arms and legs, I'm cold.

"Your father is here, too," Tristan says, pulling on a pair of jeans that are on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"I can't take a shower," I almost yell.

"Don't get me wrong, I love the way you smell, but your mom won't. Your dad may actually try to kill us," Tristan says, and leaves just as the doorbell chimes.

"Oh, my, God," I say pulling the covers over my head. Maybe I'm still asleep.

The bed shifts as Titus climbs out. I hear water running seconds later. I throw back the covers and wince at the full body ache. I'd been put in positions a veteran contortionist would be proud of. My mouth drops open when I look down my body. I'm covered in bodily fluid and blood. Theirs, not mine. There had been a lot of biting going on. I make my way to the edge of the bed and climb out with a groan just as Titus comes out of the bathroom. He's gloriously naked.

The tiled floor is warm and Titus holds my hand as he leads me to the shower in the middle of the room. The hot water hitting my skin feels better than any masseuse. I moan when I feel Titus's hands on my body, slippery with soap.

"How are you," he asks.

"Sore...stiff...fine," I say, turning to face him.

I try to take the bar of soap from him but he pulls away. I let him bathe me. It's the first time we've been in such an intimate setting without Tristan. In bed, I lose track of who's who and something shifts inside me when I realize it didn't matter. What difference did it make whose hands touched me as long as they were loving hands? And they were. The attraction I have for Titus is different from the one I feel for Tristan but I'm drawn to him too. I want them both. I can love them both.

My mother and newly discovered father are in the house. Thirty seconds ago I had the vapors at the news, in this moment I feel like I can stay in the shower all day. I relax as Titus's strong hands rubs my body, wash away aches and pains and the evidence of the night before. When he finishes I watch as he washes his body quickly, he wraps a towel around me after turning off the four showerheads. I love this shower. I'm going to miss it. We dress quickly and rush to the front.

Heads turn when we enter the room. My mother walks towards us while Jeffrey pushes away from the wall he's propped on.

"Nicole," my mother says, a smile still on her face. My mother's biggest fear is not me marrying the wrong man, but a poor man.

"Mother."

"If you'll excuse me," Tristan says to the room "I'm going to get dressed. Leila can make coffee and tea if you'd like."

"Wonderful," my mother says

Tristan heads straight for me and gives me a chaste kiss. He takes a step but Titus grabs his hand and pulls him in. Their lips making contact a second or two.

"If you would follow me," Titus says.

The dining room is just across the foyer and the table is already set and silver is on the sideboard. I wonder for the first time if Leila and Sebastian are wolves too. Titus pulls a chair out for my mother on his left as Jeffrey pulls the one to his right out for me. He sits next to me.

"Would anyone like breakfast," he asks taking a seat at the head of the table. He holds my hand on top of the linen table cloth.

"We don't expect you to cook for us. Not when we're unannounced," my mother says. It's bullshit of course.

"Nonsense," Titus says, "Just tell Leila what you want."

Leila enters right on cue and pours coffee in cups with saucers .She's dressed very casual, white skinny jeans and a white shirt. She places the cups on a tray and turns towards the table her head still lowered, her feathered bangs covering most of her face.

"Leila, please bring Nicole two poached eggs on rye toast and a glass of orange juice."

"Yes...sir," she answers, moving on to Jeffrey.

In private she calls them Master. I guess they've asked her not to in front of strangers.

"I'd love the same," my mother says, looking at Titus like he'd hung the damn moon.

"Would you like something to eat," Titus asks my father.

He's been eyeing me since I entered the room. He takes a cup and saucer from the tray. "I'd love a couple of scrambled eggs, pancakes and bacon."

"Leila doesn't speak, simply nods as she offers my mother the tray before returning it to the sideboard and leaving the dining room. Tristan arrives freshly showered, his hair wet and pulled back at the nape.

"Your home is stunning," my mother says.

"Thank you," Titus and Tristan answer together.

"Titus picked out most of the furniture. He has a real eye for antiquities."

"Anyone with good taste and money can pick out furniture," Titus says, "Tristan designed the house, picked out all the flooring, fixtures, granite and marble."

"Talented as well as handsome."

My father rolls his eyes and sigh. I wonder if my mother was different when they met and were together.

Sebastian and Leila bring the food in. He's in faded blue jeans and a button down shirt. He helps her unload the trays and refill everyone's coffee. My mother is still eyeing Tristan and Titus like they're the best thing since sliced White Stilton Gold. Tristan dazzles them both by being extra attentive, asking a combination of questions custom made for each of them: pack life and business for my father and a constant and endless stream of compliments on everything from her beauty to her style for my mother. It's lunch time before they leave.

"I promise to keep in touch and come visit as soon as I get all this sorted out," I say to Jeffrey.

"I'd like to give you a hug."

This handsome, fiercely protective man is my father. He's loyal to a fault, at least where my mother is concerned. He still loves her, how and why is anyone's guess. I've only known for the last two days what my mother has pulled. What she's done is so wrong it's impossible to think it hasn't forever changed the dynamics of us. She birthed me, raised me, and provided a life full of privilege, but I'm seriously re-evaluating my relationship with her.

"I'd like that very much."

He wraps me up in impossibly big arms and we hold each other for long moments, a lifetimes of hugs in the too short amount of time. Jeffrey releases me first and steps out of the door. My mother takes his place. She smells like Chanel No. 5 and peppermint. She doesn't try for a hug and I don't offer her one.

"Be safe."

I follow them as far as the edge of the porch and watch Jeffrey open the door for my mother, his hand on the small of her back a second before she slides in. He waves good-bye as he rounds the car. I wave at them both and watch the car until it disappears from view before going back inside.
Friday Evening

The gravel beneath the tires sound like popping corn. The wings in my stomach feel like they're attached to something much bigger than the small, genteel insect that one usually associate them with. As if I'd swallowed something with a group name closer to flock than kaleidoscope, or maybe exaltation, yeah, definitely an exaltation.

"I can't believe you waited until we were on the damned plane to tell me that your pack alpha was a king,"

I give them both the evil eye while I check my hair in the too small compact.

"I'm not sure what all the fuss is about really Nick you look fine," Tristan says.

"Says the man wearing a suit."

"This old thing," he says looking down the front of his body.

I look at him, the suit may be old, but it's a classic, probably custom and hanging to perfection off his prefect body. I look at the other man sharing the back seat with us.

"I always dress this way," he says.

Granted, I'd only known the man for a week, had only seen him in way more casual settings but for some reason the idea that he wore a suit everyday didn't seem farfetched at all.

"For someone so prim and proper I expected more from you," I scold.

"You're American,"

My mouth drops open.

"Relax," Tristan says from the other side. "Our alpha is old school but the house is full of modern, American women. Diana and Josephine and Virginia are all American."

"Which would make me feel better if I knew even one of the people you just named," I said snapping the compact closed and sighing in resignation. I'd done the best I could do in the short amount of time Titus allowed me before he announced he refused to be late for anyone, not even his mate.

Titus takes my hand and lace our fingers together before bringing them to his face to kiss the back of my hand. When he lowers them into his lap he make small comforting circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. Tristan takes my other hand and I calm down more. Not all the way, but enough that my stomach settles and I don't feel like I'm going to throw up all over their alpha's shoes.

"You got to be kidding me," I say leaning forward when I catch the first glimpse of the house. "I thought you said they lived in a château."

"Oui," Tristan says.

I shake my head.

The front door opens just as we step out of the car and a small horse comes barreling out of it.

"Wait, was that a wolf?" I ask.

"Wallace Duncan Lulach, you return this instant."

Despite calling his entire name the pregnant woman is not angry. I'm pretty sure she would have run after him if we weren't standing in front of the door.

"You must be Titus and Tristan," she says instantly focusing on the men I'm standing between.

"We are," Titus says taking a step forward. This is Tristan and our mate, Nicole.

I give the woman major kudos for only raising her eyebrows a split second. But whatever awkwardness there could have been is lost to me because I'm so happy she's wearing a loose fitting, plain, shirt-dress.

"I'm Freya," she says extending a hand that Titus bring to his lips. "The woman who's mate has stolen food from her plate even though she's carrying an entire pack within her body," she says louder.

"Twins!" A mighty voice sounds from behind us.

Jeffrey voice is deep, this man's voice is just big. I turn fully expecting to see a giant. Not a completely naked, redhead sporting waist-long dreadlocks. The bear of a man actually bear hugs Titus, taking his feet from the ground. As if it's completely normal for a naked man to greet someone.

"You'll get use to him, he's completely wild, and untrainable," Freya says to me.

"Tristan," Wallace says and Tristan actually jumps into the man's open arms.

"Wallace, you old dog, you hardly deserve such a fair lady," Titus says and he's laughing.

"Don't I know it?" Wallace agrees. "And the lovely woman...she is yours?" he asks looking at me.

I'm giving myself all kinds of pats on the back for not lowering my eyes.

"Ours," Titus says.

"I knew you two would mate with the same woman."

A new man joining us reminds me of the naked redhead but with dark hair. They're the same height and build. The woman who follows him out stands next to Freya and even though she's black they match in the same way their mates do.

"I'm Furious and this is my mate Leontyne,"

One by one they came out of the house to welcome their pack mates, as if they were too excited for them to even get in the house. Alexis, a tall slim African, Constantine, a small blond Frenchman, a black-clad scary figure named Rob and finally the Alpha, the King and on his arm, his Queen.

They're dressed just as I'd expect a king and queen to be. A dark suit complete with pocket square and watch chain for him and a long gown with a small train for her. Titus and Tristan leave my side and bend a knee to their alpha.

"Lykos," they both say together, their heads bowed, a fisted hand covering their hearts.

There is a sadness about the couple. It makes me remember the reason the trip had been moved up a week. A death of someone important. I feel foolish for worrying over my clothes. The man rub the tops of Tristan and Titus's heads.

"I never expected to see you again," he says in a low voice. "Nor Wallace, or Constantine," he says looking at the others in the group.

"You doubt we'd come if you called?" Titus asks.

"I never thought I'd have to."

"We serve at your pleasure." They both say.

"And I am a better man, wolf and king for it. Meet your Queen."

Every move is graceful. It's hard to believe she wasn't born into royalty. Titus and Tristan remain kneeling.

"Thank you for coming to our aid," she says. She touches them one at a time because one hand remains in the king's.

"Our life and death are yours, to do with as you please" they both speak together.

The smile she offers their downcast faces is sad. I'm sad for her, and the king.

"Rise brothers of the Nuntis Clan," she says.

She releases her mate's and steady herself by placing her hands on Titus shoulder kissing him on both cheeks and one on the forehead. "Thank you," she whipsers.

In return Titus kisses her on the space right beneath her lips.

She offers Tristan the same kisses. I raise an eyebrow when he licks her.

I'm not sure how I would have reacted being licked by a strange man but she handled it with grace. She didn't even wipe her face. Which I totally would have done. I'm still new to the game so I don't judge.

"And who is this vision," she says headed my way.

"Nicole Sullivan," I say and curtsey. She doesn't kiss me, I'm surprised when she hugs me, long and tight.

"Never bow to me, not when you give your greatest treasures freely."

I'm taken aback by her words, whispered while she hugs me. She releases me. "Love them fiercely; every second."

I nod because I've lost my words.

The men all congregate to one side and I look over the group and wonder.

"It's like a super-hero convention," Freya says.

"You think he picked them for their looks on purpose?" Leontyne asks.

"Definitely," the queen answers.

She takes my hand and put it in the crook of her elbow. Freya puts an arm around the queen's waist and Leontyne puts her arm around mine.

"Welcome sister," they say together.

Chapter One

It was darker than a well-digger's asshole and the wind was blowing hard enough to flatten the waist-high grass. A flash of lightning made it noon-time bright a second before thunder shook the ground. Fat drops of waters fell from the heavens drenching Luka within seconds. A howl cutting through a boom of thunder was answered from the line of trees directly in front of him.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed.

He changed directions, hoping the storm would keep people off the stretch of blacktop he was gunning for. You'd think a lifetime of hiding from humans would make his people a little more sociable to their brethren. He longed for the good ol' days: a mob of villagers wielding torches and pitchforks. He could outrun a horde of humans carrying farming implements. Out running his own kind was different—or had been.

He changed forms without missing a step. Lord knows he didn't need the added level of complicated but what choice had the morons given him? His front and back legs grew longer but he continued to run on all fours after his wolf-form had turn to that of his beast. It had been years since he'd gained his third form, but each time was like the first; filling him with an exhilaration he hadn't had since the first time he turned. If he wasn't running from what was surely a fight to the death he would have howled himself, but fast approaching headlights nipped that thought in the bud.

He crossed the blacktop hoping the occupants of the car would think his shape a deer, and not big-foot. Vines, branches and the gnarly roots of trees in the overgrown woods tried to slow his progress. His clawed hands left the ground, and the muscles in his thighs bunched as he jumped. He grabbed a branch fifteen feet from the ground. It wasn't hiding; the wolves chasing him would follow his scent, he was tired of running. Not tired, as in out of breath, but tired as in, _sick of this shit_. Three wolves circled some thirty feet below as Luka sat on the thick branch. In a couple of hours it would be dawn and the three below would have human forms again and maybe he could talk some damn sense into the fools.

It was not only custom or a rule, for most it law, that a visiting wolf or wolves were required to find the local pack and introductions be made. But it wasn't like he could stroll into the first establishment in the city, town or county limits and ask for the neighborhood werewolf pack. On the occasion he was lucky enough to find the local pack before they found him, he had two strikes against him. One, he was a lone wolf and two, he was an alpha. Lone wolves were a thing to be weary of. Werewolves, like the real deal, lived within a pack. There weren't that many reasons for a wolf not to have a pack and the handful to be counted were not good. Not to say the two or three were the reason he didn't belong to one. He hadn't belonged to a pack for a long time. For a matter of fact, he'd belonged to only one. The carefully selected group of men had become more than pack. They had become brothers. The loneliness was surprising and something he never completely escaped.

The alpha-strength he possessed turned out to be more a curse than his condition. It didn't matter ninety percent of the time he lived in his human form. He was one hundred percent animal, one hundred percent of the time. Alpha wolves in human or wolf form will follow their base animal instincts. The need to prove and exert power and dominance becoming primordial. Luka was so tired of _Big Dogs_ he didn't know what to do. Yet, he didn't hold it against the countless men he'd beaten. Luka was willing to bet the second _man_ became _men_ the fight had begun to see who would rule over the other. He could have been alpha of a pack a thousand times over. But he only fought to defend himself and only after he couldn't talk some young and dumb or old and powerful alpha out of trying him. When you're the thing of legend and fairytales sometimes it goes to your head, start to think that you're the strongest, biggest, baddest motherfucker out there. But in truth, there is always someone stronger...bigger...badder. He was tired—bone weary. Contrary to popular belief always wining, having no true equal was boring

Luka placed his back against the trunk of the tree and threw a leg over the branch, careful not to scrape the skin off his balls on the hard bark. Life would be so much simpler if werewolves lost their junk when they turned like in the movies. Unfortunately, in the real world, they kept all their naughty bits. Seeing as he'd revealed his secret, he felt dumb for not taking half-form first. At least then there was a possibility he'd have something to protect the family jewels instead of leaving the shredded remains of his clothes and shoes in the fighting ring. He'd also left his backpack that had his last change of clothes. The rain was going to make it hard to snag clothes off a line. But clear skies didn't guarantee a five-finger-discounted clothes find, not with everyone buying dryers. But he was in the South and a rural area. Chances were good he'd be able to find at least one house that still liked the smell of fresh air in their clothes.

Settling in and making himself comfortable, or as comfortable as a naked person could get on tree bark, he allowed his mind to wander. He thought of a time when he was among equals. Part of a pack that recognize their leader not because of strength but out of love and loyalty. A half a century had passed since he'd walked away from his brothers and he hadn't thought about the time he'd spent with them in what...a decade...longer. There were times when he'd see or hear something that reminded him of one of them. The sound of a robust laugh that was close but not nearly as loud as that of Wallace, or a sharply dressed man that reminded him of Constantine. There was something in the crazy-eyed stare of Charles Manson that reminded him of Rob, and he'd caught snippets of a show where the mother of dragon's husband looked a lot like Furious. The twins, Titus and Tristan, so alike they finished each other sentences and no one but something of magic would know they weren't twins, not even brothers, just from the same nomadic tribe. Alexis, over seven feet tall, with skin so dark and smooth he looked more statue than human. An African warrior, the prince of his tribe who hid his past and heritage beneath his clothes. Tomas, as fun-loving as Wallace, as ruthless as Rob, and as loyal to the alpha as Alexis, who took the separation of their merry band of wolves as hard as Luka.

And finally...The Alpha.

There were no words to adequately describe the man. Nowhere near as tall as Alexis, or as big as Wallace or Furious, not a ruthless bone in body but more powerful than them. Powerful in a way high-born men thought they were, that had nothing to do with how much gold was in the bank, acres of lands, or titles held. Their pack was one of noble born, commoner and wanderer. Wallace, a true prince, Alexis and himself the sons of chiefs, were no different from Constantine, a count, who was no different from Titus and Tristan, who held with no title, and Tomas who had no home at all. The alpha saw in them something that set them apart. He'd turned each man and it wasn't until right before that the Alpha revealed his secret. How old would he be now? Five hundred, give or take a decade. Each man turned by Jean Rene's bite was an alpha, stronger than any other wolf they came across. Their power matched only by a pack's brother.

Luka absently rubbed the imprint of his alpha's bite on his wrist as he watched the color of the sky change. He looked down at the three wolves circling the base of the tree as the sun broke through the morning sky. He watched bones break and reform, watched as their legs and arms grew and their head and faces changed back to human. Changing was painful for wolves, most wolves, his own change was smooth, his legs straightening and hair on his body receding.

The three men stood and looked at Luka who was so relaxed he appeared posed. The largest was six feet of lean muscle in human form. The man standing next to him was almost as tall and almost as fit. He had a little bit of a belly but there was nothing soft about that stomach, like everything else on the man it was solid. Last, but definitely not least, was the shortest, built like a damn tank. His neck was nonexistent, his head attached right onto his shoulders, his arms and legs were corded with veins. He was all hills and valleys of rock hard muscle.

"What now?" the leader asked, looking at Luka with wide eyes, although not addressing the treed man. Half-form was damned near a myth amongst their kind. Only the strongest could take it and over time fewer and fewer were able to take it. Those left were nearly ancient. Luka didn't look old enough to take half-form.

"I was hoping you'd just let me go on my way. Like I said last night, I didn't know there was a local pack. I certainly didn't mean any disrespect. I don't want to challenge your alpha."

The three men formed a huddle and spoke in low voices for a moment, arguing about who was going to leave for help. Long and lean and pot-belly both thought it should be them. Tank man was silent. Long and lean pulled rank, ordered the other two to stay and left while pot-belly's mouth was opening to continue the debate.

"Is that a no?" Luka called after the retreating man.

Pot-belly's head swung up and he stared at Luka, who was still casually draped across the branch he'd taken refuge on in the night.

Luka had long suspected that his alpha status as a wolf and the power of his beast was in his blood. His tribe spirit-animal had been a wolf. Their history said the first of his tribe had the ability to change. Like all young men he believed his father and tribal elders. Believed that his father's line was from the first shape-shifters and that when his father passed on and became one with the earth it would be his turn. When the pale invaders arrived and the massacres began his faith wavered when his father didn't turn into a great wolf to protect the tribe. When his mother and sister were raped and butchered all faith was loss. He ran. He wandered for years before his Alpha found him. Visiting the new world, Jean Rene had already found Alexis and Tomas and trouble followed them. Mostly because Alexis, while black, was no man's property and pity the man who thought otherwise. They were on the run—again—when they came across Luka. He imagined he probably looked a lot like pot-belly below: eyes a little too wide, mouth open, heart beating too fast but barely taking a breath. Funny, he was in a tree then too. He'd climbed it when he heard the sound of running. Luka had guess there was something special about the three animals, they were too big to be natural wolves. When they turned into men, a plethora of emotions threatened his very sanity. The sound of his gasp drew the attention of the three. Luka smiled at the memory. Alexis had wanted to kill him. Not because he was afraid that their secret would be revealed, but because he was just so fucking mad and Luka was unlucky enough to be the first person to cross the black giant's path. Jean Rene stopped him with a hand placed on his forearm, not a strong hold, the softest of touch. And while Luke had been a fierce warrior, the strongest among the young men in his tribe and had little fear of any human, he was afraid of the black man with so much hate in him that his body actually shook.

It had taken a full day to get him out of that damned tree, but less than a week for Luka to change into his tribe's spirit animal. He'd left his lands, boarded a ship and sailed away. Saw places he couldn't imagine, mainly because he hadn't known of their existence. Slowly the pain of losing everyone dulled to an ache as the men Jean Rene collected became his new family. When the Alpha told them he was breaking up the pack it was a blow Luka swore would never happen again. So he'd refused to settle down, never stayed in a place longer than a year or so. But now he was looking for a place, if not to grow roots, than to just rest for a while. He'd been back on American soil for a year and had yet to find a place that didn't have an established pack or one that was willing to allow him to keep his lone wolf status and live on their lands.

Luka stood and dusted tree bark from his ass, took a deep breath and sighed at the whole situation. He jumped from the tree, landing ten feet from the two men left to guard him. By the time his feet hit the ground they were no longer feet but paws, changing forms in midair. He didn't turn to see their reaction or if they were in pursuit. There was no way they'd catch him now. Hopefully he'd be able to find his pet and something to wear and get the hell out of dodge before they found him again.

### **-**

The music was loud enough that Nia was certain it interrupted the natural rhythm of her heartbeat. She looked around for her friends as she wiped sweat from her temple and neck with a napkin soaked from the condensation of one of the half a dozen beer bottles littering the table. She wasn't sure if the number of bottles was a reflection of too many people and not enough staff, or that she and her friends were drinking too fast for them to keep up.

She searched one last time for the familiar faces she'd arrived with before heading for the bar. The club was packed tighter than Dick's hatband and Nia moved at a snail's pace, gently elbowing her way through the crowd and shimming up at the end of the bar. The four bartenders moved in a synchronization that only years of working together can achieve. It was like watching a dance as the three men and woman flowed in a space so tight they couldn't pass behind each other without touching. Nia ordered three more beers, paid the woman and made her slow way back to the table. She was halfway there when she saw Jessica.

Jessica had on a pair of shorts that could double for underwear and a crawl-neck, halter top that defied gravity by staying in place. The messy bun, which was actually styled when they'd walked into the place, was now just a mess and tendrils of her hair stuck to her temples and neck. Her makeup had long since been sweated off. She took the offered bottle, drained it and grabbed Nia's arm since her hands were still full with the remaining two bottles. She barely had enough time to sit them down before she was pulled into the sea of bodies on the dance floor. Jessica was five feet tall and weighed about ninety pounds, ten of which were boobs. She cut through the crowed like a knife through butter. When Jessica let go of her hand and turned, Tip, her other M.I.A. friend, magically appeared next to her already dancing. She'd turned her back on her dance partner who didn't seem to mind as the three of them danced.

Tip was as tall as Jessica was short; at five-eleven her stiletto heels put her over six feet tonight. A lot of girls don't like height; Tip wasn't a lot of girls. She loved it. Tip had a model's body but not one of those sickly looking ones. Her capped sleeved, black-satin romper stopped just below the knee and was cinched at the waist with a chain-linked belt. The outfit would have been plain if not for the front. The deep V stopped just before the belt, exposing the front of Tip almost to her belly button. Unlike Jessica, Tip wasn't overly blessed in the chest department so no laws of physics were being broken. Tip's make-up was still flawless, as usual.

"I thought you'd baled on us," Tip shouted over the music.

"More like hoping," Jessica added as she stepped between Tip's gyrating hips and that of her partner's. The tall, dark and handsome young man didn't appear to have a problem taking turns. He didn't miss a beat as he placed his hands on Jessica's swaying hips. Jessica threw her hands up over hear head, and yelled to the heavens. Obviously, the song was her jamb.

"Seriously, girl. If ever a time to let your hair down, tonight's the night," Tip said.

"My hair is down," Nia said.

Jessica gave her the bullshit lip and backed away enough so they could really dance and not just move from side-to-side. Nia closed her eyes and let the music move her body. She'd never been one to pay close attention to lyrics, but the song was familiar from the radio. She'd been drinking what felt like half of the day and had more in the last four hours than in the last four months. She'd passed tipsy two hours ago and was thoroughly drunk but not so drunk that Tip and Jessica's words didn't follow her into her happy place. The two of them had been trying to get her out of the house for months. She'd always declined. Her idea of a perfect night included a deep-dish pizza, homemade peanut-butter cookies and an endless supply of action-adventure movies. Jessica and Tip, on the other hand, were regular fixtures at every club, bar, house, frat and sorority party in town. It was mind-boggling the two were only a semester away from graduating—with honors.

Sweatier than ever but happier than she'd been in a long time, Nia left her friends on the dance floor headed for the bathroom. The trip was a lot like the one to the bar and Nia was sure the fire code for number of occupants was being broken. The line for the women's bathroom was ten deep from the door so she took a detour, heading for the front of the club instead. She showed her hand-stamp to the bouncer who rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at her. After being in the heated confines of the club for the last four hours the hot and humid air hitting her skin was refreshing. It was almost one in the morning and the line was still long to get in. Her trio had shown up early, something that Nia had taught the other two. Someone had to be first. It was the reason most of the staff knew them by name. It also meant that they got prime parking.

Nia walked over to Tip's car and propped herself against the hood. She lifted her hair in the back to dry the sweat on her neck. She wasn't delicate and fragile looking as Jessica or tall like Tip. She was pretty, not beautiful, and comfortable enough in her own skin to hang out with two women most men thought ideal. She fanned her face with her hand and pulled the top of her linen shirt-dress out in an effort to cool off. Her feet were killing her and she cursed Tip for talking her into wearing the strappy sandals. They were fabulous shoes but definitely not meant for a night of dancing. She cursed Jessica too, since she was the one who talked her into buying said shoes. It was a rare occasion when she'd allowed peer-pressure to make a decision. She hadn't been one to worry about fitting in because in truth, she didn't fit in. The start of her life wasn't unique but she hadn't run into anyone singing the same song and as much as she loved Tip and Jessica, she'd never told them her rough start. She had never felt sorry for herself, instead she'd felt a level of pride in taking care of herself and making it out sane and mostly whole. But today wasn't the day for that particular trip down memory lane. It was supposed to be a celebration.

No longer feeling like she was moments away from combustion and at a more normal, just hot as hell she headed back in to try for the bathroom again. She pushed off the hood of the car and walked past the dwindling line of people. The club closed at two, that there were still people willing to pay the cover with so little time left was testament of its popularity. The bouncer pulled the door open as she approached and the two shared a friendly smile as she stepped past him.. Inside the club was sweltering, the air was thick with heat, but at least the line for the bathroom was shorter and she entered the stall seconds before she started the potty-dance. After peeing for what was seemed an eternity, she exited the stall and then had to wait again for an empty spot at the vanity where make-up was being freshened up and club gossip was going on.

"There you are!" Jessica and Tip screamed at the top of their lungs.

Nia looked up from washing her hands and rolled her eyes at the two. She'd never had siblings, thank god for that, but she'd found a sisterhood with the roommates.

"It's after midnight, it's your birthday."

Nia started laughing as Jessica started singing and to her surprise so did most of the women in the bathroom.

"Happy birthday!" Tip yelled at the end.

The applause was as surprising as the joint singing and Nia found herself both embarrassed by all the attention and touched by the two young women she'd let into her life. She'd kept herself closed off for so many reasons and the day she decided to start really living was the day she met the two, as if the universe had sent them to the rescue. The two were peas in a pod and it took the better part of a year before Nia allowed herself to believe the three of them were really friends after both kept their promise to keep in touch when school let out. She not only received regular phone calls but post-cards and gifts from vacations they took. In the three years she'd known them invitations to all-expenses paid travel to places she'd only ever read about but she never took them up on their offers. She was still too proud to have them foot the bill for a week or more on island paradises or European get-a-ways.

She walked through the throng of still applauding people with a smile on her face that hurt her cheeks and eyes a little too shiny and was pulled into a three-way embrace. They reached their table just as a waitress in black booty-shorts, a white wife-beater and short apron arrived with six shots and three beers.

"Twenty-five years old!" Jessica yelled over the music, kissing Nia on the cheek before throwing her head back and downing her shot.

"Twenty-five," Nia yelled as loud as she could and downed her own. The second was thrust in her hand before she straightened her head.

"Happy Birthday, Nia," Tip said, hugging her tight before letting go. "Love you girl."

Nia woke up hung over. They'd taken a cab back to her small apartment and fallen asleep right before the sun came up. Tip and Jessica were sleeping on opposite ends of her couch, and she had passed out on the matching love seat. Her blinds were closed but the curtains were open and the small amount of sunlight entering was like daggers stabbing her in the eyes. She needed water, and lots of it, to drink and to shower in. She also needed food but the only thing in the place was week old Chinese and while they'd been drunk they weren't that drunk. She was going for food as soon as she drank a gallon of water and took a shower. It wasn't the first time she'd found herself hung-over after a night with her two besties, it wasn't even her first time swearing it'd be her last, but she was twenty-five now, and adulthood had officially started. She was definitely too old to stumble home drunk. Wasn't she?

Nia took a glass from the cabinet and drank two full glasses straight from the tap before going to the bathroom. The naked bulbs above the sink were blinding and she looked at her reflection through one squinted eye. Her bird's nest hair, smudged eye-shadow, and clumped together lashes, looked exactly like she felt—a hot mess. Her skin felt like it was covered in a film, her mouth was still dry and she felt like sand was in her eyes. She turned on the water in the shower and unbuttoned the dress while she waited for it to get hot. Stepping into the shower she pulled the curtain closed and took a deep breath as the warm water ran over her skin, instantly making her feel better.. She turned and held her head back before turning around and wetting her face. She washed her hair and put conditioner in it before grabbing the soap from the basket hanging around her shower head and made a lather to wash her face.

Nia moved to the small town when she was eighteen after running away from home at sixteen from Florida. She was passing through on her way to California when she met a couple of girls on the bus. The trio made it as far as Alabama when the other girls found a ride in an attempt to save money. Nia stayed behind. There was something in the trucker's eyes she didn't trust. She'd begged the other two not to go but they were California bound, come hell or high water. So Nia said a prayer and watched them pull away with dread a stone sitting heavy in her gut. She got a job and found a nice older couple who rented her a studio apartment without doing any background or credit check. Thank God for small towns. She still rented from the same couple but had moved from the single room studio to the three room apartment about a year ago. It was small—tiny—but Nia loved it and the couple had become more like family in the seven years she'd been there. Her first seventeen years may have been shitty but the last eight was near perfect as far as she was concerned.

"God, I feel like shit," Jessica said a second before Nia heard her using the toilet. The water turned ice cold when she flushed but Nia had prepared for it.

"You should. You drank enough," Nia said through the shower curtain. "Is Tip up yet?"

"Hell no. Not a morning person."

If that wasn't an understatement. Nia didn't know if she'd ever seen the girl up before noon.

"But I'm getting her ass up," Jessica said, she'd sat back down on the toilet after closing the lid. "So how's it feel to be an adult?"

"Ask me again in about thirty minutes."

"I don't know how you do it Nia. I mean, I think I may still be drunk. What time did we go to sleep," she asked, seconds before Nia heard the sound of running water from the sink. Jessica hated falling asleep in her make-up; wrinkles and all that.

"No idea, but I'm pretty sure the sun was coming up."

"I'm going for coffee. You're out."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," Jessica muttered as she exited the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Nia took the de-tangling brush from the wire rack hanging from the showerhead and started the first of many steps in taming her hair. Which in turn, made her think of her ex. She'd grown it out for him after a life-time of keeping it short. The upkeep was hell, it took a full day for it to dry naturally and she'd thought about cutting it off after they broke up but as she stood in front of the mirror, scissors in one hand, a tangled fistful of hair in the other, she realized she loved her hair.

She started working the brush through the ends and thought about how much her life had changed—how different it'd become since she moved into town. A teenager with fifteen dollars in her pocket, her worldly possessions in the pack on her back and not a clue what the next ten minutes would bring, let alone the future. But she'd made a life, a good one. She had two friends that she adored and loved, a job, a roof over her head and if not happiness...contentment. What more could a girl ask for?

Twenty minutes later Nia was in a robe and exiting the bathroom. She stopped just inside her bedroom. Jessica was holding out a cup of coffee and Tip was standing next to her looking like she'd just rolled off the couch and not happy about it. One side of her hair was smooth the other looked like tangled barbed-wire. She'd taken off the jumpsuit and was wearing one of Nia's t-shirt gowns.

"Happy Birthday Nia!" Jessica yelled. Tip winced and mumbled something.

"You guys suck," Nia said, spotting the presents on the bed.

She'd asked them both not to buy her anything. She didn't want to come across as being a free-loader but the feeling was obviously not shared, it never had. Right from the beginning they spoiled Nia with gifts and offers to travel. She'd stopped turning down the gifts a long time ago. The two lived in a house Jessica's mother purchased. Jessica was from South Carolina and Tip was from Georgia. They met their freshman year and Tip, short for Tiffany, moved in the second semester. They tried to get her to move in with them but she liked having her own space.

"I know you told us not to buy anything," Tip said, and the look on her face was completely unapologetic. "But what are you going to do," she said with a shrug and took a sip of her coffee.

Nia put the lotion in the basket on the dresser and crossed the room wondering what treasures lie beneath the eloquently wrapped packages. She sat on the bed pulling the larger of the two presents onto her lap. She pulled the silver satin ribbon and popped the tape on each end and peeled away the thick black paper. She placed the wrapping paper next to her and flipped the box. Her mouth dropped opened, shocked by the name printed on the front and the zillion possibilities that could be within. She opened the top and pulled apart the tissue paper. Black lace, bra, thong, garter and lace top nude hose.

"I knew I'd never be able to pick out an outfit," Jessica said.

"This is...too much," Nia said, fingering the delicate La Perla lingerie

"It would be if I was anyone else. It's not like you ever let us pay for anything," Jessica started.

"What are you talking about, you pay for stuff all the time," Nia countered.

"You know what I mean," Jessica said waving her hand. "So suck it up."

Nia knew better than to argue so she put the box behind her and moved on to the second box. Opening it even slower, she held her breath as she turned the box over for the big reveal.

"You got to be freakin kidding me," she said looking at Tip.

"What she said," the girl said tipping her head in Jessica's direction.

There was no stopping the smile. Platform, black, patent-leather, ankle-strapped, red-bottomed stilettos. They were perfect. Jessica gift had been something she thought Nia would possibly like, Tip's present was something she knew she would like.

"Thank you, guys. So much," Nia said, surprised at the welling emotions threatening to water her eyes.

### Chapter Two

"Aww hell, looks like we have company, boy."

They'd only crossed the city limits sign not thirty minutes ago, for God's sake. The brake lights burned bright on the dark county road because there were no street lights. It was unfortunate the way leading into town hadn't dumped Luka into a more populated area. People were less incline to prove a point when there were others around. It had been three months since his last encounter with trouble but his luck seemed to have run out. The black wolf at his side wasn't a pet but he'd followed Luka since they crossed paths a month back. He looked down at his traveling buddy, who stared back with too intelligent eyes.

Both back and the front passenger side doors opened and three men stepped out of the burgundy sedan. They were pretty big but none as big as Luka. He stuck his thumbs through the straps of his backpack and hiked it higher on his back. The three burly men walked on the packed dirt shoulder and stopped three feet from him.

"Good evening," Luka said.

The looks he got were very menacing. Luka gave them an A for effort. He didn't turn up his menace, he kept it light.

"You're on marked lands," Menace A said.

The man was shorter by half a foot but there was bulk on him that said he could handle himself in a fight. His t-shirt was too big to see what his middle looked like but his arms were muscled and the jeans he wore were fitted enough to tell that he didn't just work out his upper body. He wore a large light colored cowboy hat that could have been white or could have been cream.

"This offense is punishable by death," Menace B added.

Well that wasn't very nice. Luka wondered what kind of trouble had passed through to make this pack take such drastic measures. He was taller than A, but only by a few inches, which meant he was still shorter than Luka. His shirt was so tight the ridges of his muscular chest and abs were on display, it was more a second skin then clothing. This one didn't have on a cowboy hat but dirty and frayed snap back baseball cap. It was pulled down so low that Luka couldn't see the man's eyes. It was one of those things he never understood, kind of like wearing sunglasses in a dark room.

Luka looked at the third man, Menace C. Of the three he was the only one that didn't have on jeans or wore anything on his head. The long sleeve t-shirt and baggy sweat-pants could have hidden anything from fat to muscle on an Incredible Hulk scale. Luka was willing to bet it was the second. He was the shortest of all three but his neck was thicker than everyone standing on the side of the road. His hair was pulled up in a bun. Even with all his gamma radiation bulk the hair softened his look. Luka was willing to bet no one said that to his face.

"Listen fellas I just got into town...literally. I didn't call ahead and ask permission because I didn't know I had too," he said, looking at the three. No reason to leave C-man out because he hadn't spoken, didn't want to break any rules and start a fight unnecessarily.

"Well now you know," Menace A said.

Turning his attention back to the man standing slightly in front of the other two, since he seemed to be the leader, Luka took a deep breath and lowered his head in a slight bow. It was a submissive stance but also a show of respect. He looked at Samson. The black wolf's expression was along the lines of, _Really? Bow to these assholes?_ With a tightening of his lips and a sterner look in his eye Samson lowered his big body to the ground, laying his large head onto his front paws.

"Follow us."

He motioned with his head for Samson to take off. If they'd had a truck he would have asked to bring the wolf, but they were in a car and Luka wondered how all the men were going to fit, let alone an extra hundred pounds of wild animal. Of course Samson wasn't the only thing that could be called a wild animal on this dark night. The wolf jumped up from the ground and rubbed his head in Luka's palm before running off into the wooded area next to them. Curiosity kept him standing on the side of the road and not taking off with the wolf. Maybe if he helped with the reason the pack had such a severe punishment they'd allow him to stay for a while.

Menace C stood next to the opened back door like a sentry. The three of them in the back were packed like sardines. Luka wished he'd taken off his backpack before getting in the car, but at least it put his body a little more in front of the two on each side of him. No one spoke as they drove off into the night.

It didn't take long to reach their destination which explained how they'd found him so quick. Hell, he'd come into town almost at their pack's compound. The dirt road they'd turned off on ended in a cul-de-sac of houses, eight in total. The car parked in front of a log-cabin like house that was dead center. The front door opened as the driver cut the engine. Three strapping young men came out and then a man that looked about as old as time.

"I feel your power from here."

The guy may have been old, hell, he may have even been blind, but he wasn't stupid. The old man was six-feet tall, his hair was snow white and his skin looked like leather but there was power in him still. But enough to maintain his alpha status? He wasn't there to be alpha anything so he didn't really care how this pack worked. He was just looking for somewhere to call home for a short while.

"Are you wanting to join the pack?"

Luka sighed. He couldn't help himself. This was the part he always dreaded. He would be accepted, turned away, challenged to a fight, or sent packing with a warning never to come back again. God, he hoped for the first. He was down to his last pair of clothes.

"No," Luka answered.

There was a tense moment of silence. Luka's muscles were bow tight as he waited. He knew when he was "asked" to come it was game-on as soon as his ass rolled onto the property. There was nothing to stop a fight, no warning had to be issued. Shit, sneak attacks were sometimes encouraged. Some packs like to keep you on your toes.

"I could help with your problem. In exchange all I ask is to be able to stay for a while."

"What makes you think we have a problem? One that we can't handle," one of the men standing with the alpha asked.

"Why else would kill orders be given," Luka answered. A rogue wolf was troublesome but nothing a pack of wolves couldn't handle. Whatever set this pack on high alert must be bad. A pack of rogue wolves wasn't unheard of but it had been decades since he came across one. Luka could take on a small pack single handed but he'd ask for help to sweeten the deal if he had to.

"It's been a year since his last kill. He's probably already dead," a second man said.

"You don't know that,' the first countered. "The kills weren't always close together."

Well, that peaked Luka's interest. "I'd like to offer my services."

Power made the air thick and Luka stopped his eyes from rolling only by the grace of God.

"We no longer fight for dominance, the alpha spot is inherited by the oldest son. If there is no son then a suitable leader is voted on. My pack is a peaceful one and I would like it to stay that way," the alpha said, ignoring the bickering pack mates and his offer.

When Luke stepped across county lines he hadn't planned on doing anything differently than he had for the last few decades. Check into a local motel, rest a few days and move on. He hadn't realized just how tiring his nomad way of life had become until he stood before the ancient wolf. His physical body may have projected a man of thirty but he was older and his soul felt older still. He was tired of the aimless wandering, the endless string of one-night-stands, and the only family being the latest wolf kind enough to keep him company. Luka felt a heavy weight lift from his body, as if the thought of settling down had freed him of some burden he didn't even know he was carrying. As if reading his mind the old alpha's expression softened.

"If it is not the alpha's spot you desire you are welcomed." The hand that he extended was wrinkled with age but big and strong looking. He placed a palm on Luca's shoulder and it wasn't respect that lowered Luka's head, but gratitude.

"Thank you," he said, surprised his voice didn't crack. He was seconds away from crying like a goddamn baby.

"But—"

"Silence," the alpha commanded.

The order snapping the man's mouth shut like he'd been chin-checked. Luka kept his brow straight, but his eyes wondered over the alpha's old and decrepit looking body. The pack may have adopted a non-violent way of life but Luka knew the man standing before him had the power to squash any upheaval and by force if need be. Interesting. And not his business.

The alpha dipped his head and turned and walked away, followed closely by the three men who had accompanied him out. Luka turned to face the wolves that were left with him outside the alpha's house. There was everything from suspicion to skepticism staring back at him. No one looked particularly unfriendly but no one looked ready to offer a warm bed for the night, either. He scanned the crowd looking for the three who'd driven him there but they were nowhere to be found.

Figured.

The alpha had given him a blessing to stay and no one would challenge his word but that didn't make them happy about it. Luka and the alpha were from a time when a man's word meant something, he just hoped he'd passed that lesson on to the next generation. With every step he took he became lighter and lighter until he was damned near skipping. The thought of settling down, having a home, maybe meeting a mate. His step faltered at the flash of the last thought. A thing pushed from the fore-front of his brain before it could solidify. It was too soon to be thinking that far in the future when he'd only just decided there was a future to be had.

He walked through the throng of people, careful not to stare any one person too long in the eye. Trust was a two way street and he didn't know them any better than they knew him. Just because they didn't fight for the top spot didn't mean they didn't fight for the pecking order within the pack. Yeah...he'd have to call and set a time to meet again soon. The last thing he needed was a challenge. If this was going to be his home an understanding was going to have to be made. He wasn't _the_ alpha but he was _an_ alpha, and stronger than any wolf in these parts. The previously lost weight was back, this time from the eyes of the pack on his back as he made his way through the crowd.

A path was made as he took slow steps towards the road that had brought him there. No one offered a ride...how rude...but it was a beautiful night and he didn't mind walking. After living as long as he had, the only thing he really enjoyed now was the beauty only nature could provide. Sure, he'd lived long enough to see civilization evolve: the creation of artificially light, the telephone, and cars. None of it, not one thing compared to watching the sun rise over a mountain range or it set behind the horizon of unbroken waters.

Samson came out of the high grass when Luka approached. Throughout the years he'd had many companions. Dogs were afraid of werewolves and would either run away or attack depending on the dog. There weren't many animals that got along with werewolves even in human form. Animals recognize predators and he was the ultimate one.

Luka knelt down and rubbed Samson between the ears as the wolf licked his face and neck.

"I missed you too, boy," Luka said, laughing a little. Happy he hadn't been ran off, happy he hadn't had to fight, happy that he could settle down. He hoped his luck held out.

"Tonight we have cause to celebrate," he said, sitting and sliding the backpack off his shoulders. He unbuckled the straps and pulled out the bag of deer jerky. Samson sat down and waited. Luka pulled out a handful and gave half to the wolf.

"Looks like we can start looking for a yard," Luka said, biting down on his jerky.

He had no idea how far they were from town or the city, but he hoped they'd reach it tonight. When he traveled he usually slept outdoors with Samson in wolf form. Tonight he wanted a bed. And wouldn't you know it? As far as he could tell there was nothing but wilderness in front of them. Here's hoping there was a hill or incline in the road ahead hiding the lights of civilization. God, he hoped so.

"Alright Samson, let's roll." Luka gave the wolf one more scratch behind the ears and stood up. "Almost home buddy," he said, and damn if he wasn't looking forward to it.

Luka found a motel that allowed pets but had to pay extra since Samson wasn't the type of pet people usually traveled with. Although he suspected the extra was pocketed by the night clerk. The single-story structure could have been next to the word _run-down_ in the dictionary. He didn't have a car but the pot-holes he skipped over on his way to the office would give any car's shocks and struts a run for its money. The sidewalk running the length of the motel had enough weed-choked cracks it was almost impossible to see the concrete. And the darkness didn't hide the fact the place needed a new roof and a coat of paint, after a good sandblasting.

He saw bed-bugs in his future.

Still, as long as the sheets were mostly clean-ish, there were no suspicious odors and the hot water worked, he would make due. He opened the door and his olfactory nerve was hit with that of old beer, cigarettes and marijuana, with a hint of sex thrown in. It wasn't his favorite eau de parfum but he'd smelled worse. Samson took the first hesitant step inside as Luka flipped the light switch next to the front door.

The light-bulb gave off a sickly yellowish illumination. Luka didn't know if it was the color of the bulb or caused from old age. The carpet was stained in some places, sported burns in others and matted throughout. The comforter was in style sometime in the fifties, probably right around the time they were last washed. Luka pulled back the thin material, fully prepared to march right back outside and into the tiny office and demand his money back at the state of the sheets but was pleasantly surprised to find them not only clean-ish but clean. No stains to the naked eye. He went back to the door and closed it since Samson had made himself at home on the extra bed. Luka turned the TV on to keep him company. He was headed for the shower.

Part of the celebration would be going out for a drink. Hell, maybe a few. The naked bulb mounted in the ceiling of the bathroom was a thousand watts, showcasing more of the same: cracked tile, dingy grout, spotted mirror and towels that looked like they're second job was sandpaper—wafer-thin sandpaper. None of that mattered. Luke reached into the shower and turned the hot-water knob and placed his hand beneath the surprisingly full stream. It took seconds for the tepid water to get hot. Not wanting to waste any because who knew how long it'd last, Luka quickly undressed and stepped beneath the now scolding water. After a quick adjustment he unwrapped the miniscule bar of soap and started bathing. He never would've guessed the day to end as it had. He hadn't stayed in one place longer than a few years since the slaughter of his tribe. His pack had become his family but they hadn't exactly grown roots anywhere either. It was as if each man was trying to outrun their past; each leery of settling down, afraid to try for anything resembling normal because of the tragic ending of their former lives. Had any of them found happiness? A home? A mate?

Freshly showered, he took out his other set of clothes. They were only slightly better than the ones on the floor of the bathroom. The jeans were old but still blue enough, the shirt was a plain white button down that would have looked better if he was able to iron it but the room didn't come with one and the night clerk told him the motel didn't have one he could use. He rolled the sleeves up, tucked it in his jeans and called it good enough. He dusted off the hiking boots he'd been wearing for too long, that were well worn but not run down. There was nothing to do with his hair. He'd decided not to wash it; too thick, too much of it and it took an eternity to dry.

"So, what do you think?" He asked, turning to the wolf. Samson raised his head from the bed and cocked it to one side then the other before letting out a single affirmative bark.

Was it sad that a wild animal was his only friend? He had no idea but he laughed at the antics of his companion on his way to make sure the toilet seat was up in case Samson got thirsty.

"Be good," he said, turning off the lights and leaving Samson to enjoy his show.

The cab he'd called was idling in front of his unit and reeked of cigarette smoke and old fast food. The driver took him to the outskirts of town on the opposite end where he'd entered, to the popular hang-out the night clerk suggested. It was still early and the only people Luka spotted in the joint were three women standing at the bar flirting with one of the bartenders. The lack of people didn't stop the overzealous D.J. from turning the volume up to near deafening levels. Luka took a step in the direction of the bar, the thought of an ice cold beer making his mouth water when the scent hit him.

Gardenia and honey.

The deep inhale threatened the integrity of the seams of his shirt. The scent entered his nose coated the back of his throat, filled his lungs and spread through him, warming him from the inside. He'd been a werewolf for a long time and hadn't scented the air by raising his head in decades. Chin in the air, nostrils flared, he took a second long deep breath followed by several smaller ones, getting a bead on which direction to head in. If anyone thought it was odd no one pointed it out, but when your six foot six and weigh two hundred and eighty pounds people tend not to make fun of you. He passed the bar and rounded the corner and followed the scent up a flight of wooden stairs.

The room featured an abandon bar on the far wall, a few old school video games, two pool tables and the DJ booth. There were two women standing at the door of the DJ booth and one standing off to the side playing a Dukes of Hazard pinball game. His focus narrowed down to tunnel vision until all he saw was the woman.

His woman.

### Chapter Three

Nia hadn't felt like going out a second night in a row but decided to indulge her friends. It was, after all, her birthday and they were set on celebrating the entire weekend. Thank God, the club was closed on Sundays. After breakfast they went for mani-pedi's and lunch at the new sidewalk café downtown and went home for a nap that ended up just plain sleep because they had almost none the night before. When they all rolled out of bed it was nearly twilight. They dressed, went to dinner and were the first to pull into the parking lot of the night club. Nia had been given two more gifts; one from the bouncer and one from the trio of bartenders. The bartenders had given her an appropriate bottle of high-end scotch, the bouncer's present: a card and gift certificate to a local boutique, was enough for her to seriously consider not coming back. Avoiding him was going to be so much easier than turning him down when he asked her out.

As the last of her balls rolled into the out-hole she decided to go downstairs for a drink. She turned. Then stopped.

The man staring in her direction was standing at the head of the stairs completely still. He didn't look particularly angry or aggressive but he was dangerous. She looked behind her. Jessica and Tip were still talking to the DJ trying to get him to play some song from the eighties. She turned back around and...yep, he was still staring. When he took the first step in her direction it was her turn to play statue. She felt like a deer caught in headlights. He didn't so much walk as stalk across the room, coming right at her and not at a slow, leisurely pace, he was a man on a mission, there was purpose in every footfall. He stopped in front of her, standing so close a deep breath would have made them touch. He brought his hand up, curled his large hand around the back of her neck and ran his hand into the tangle of her hair. He buried his nose in her hollow of her throat before running it up and behind her ear. He took a deep breath and then let it out. The exhaled breath was hot on her skin but sent chills down her spin. His hand was hot on her scalp like he was feverish but he could have had bubonic plague for all she cared. Nia closed her eyes and took her own deep breath. He smelled...wild. He wrapped his free hand around her waist, pulling her body close to his, freeing inhibition and hesitation and good common sense. Nia ran her palms up his back. Beneath the button-down was hard, unforgiving, flesh, as if he was stone covered in cloth. Her feet left the ground as he straightened, pressing their bodies together in a hold hard enough to make breathing difficult. Nia turned her head, burrowing through the thick curtain of hair until her nose touched skin.

Sandalwood and rain on a hot summer day.

Her body vibrated from the deep rumbling coming from the man's chest, something between a low growl and purr. She ran her nose down the strong column of his neck. His hair was like silk on her face. She grabbed a fistful of the thick mane and pulled. Every muscle tightened—more. The sound was unmistakable and definitely a growl, not sounded like a growl but the noise an animal would make.

Slowly he lowered her until her feet touched the ground and just as slowly they released each other. He took a step back so she wouldn't have to strain her neck to look at him. They were no longer touching but Nia felt his arms around her, felt his hard chest against her breasts, his thighs along the front of hers. Her nipples became hard and achy, her panties were soaked as a gush of arousal threatened to run down her legs. The man's nostrils flared and his eyes dilated until they swallowed the chocolate brown pupils. The look on his face should have been frightening instead it triggered sexual arousal that threatened to make her come at any second. Her eyes slowly lowered. Nearly a foot long erection was imprinted on the front of his pants. Her clit enlarged, sliding from beneath its hood and the walls of her sex opened. Nia threw her hand out, grabbing the back of a chair. The damn thing seemed to grow right before her eyes, until it tightened the leg of his jeans enough that she could see it jump with each beat of his heart. Prying her eyes away, she looked back at his face. He watched her from beneath half-mast lids. His head slightly lowered. His chest rose and fell in time with hers. Taking in the scent of her arousal that had breached the cotton crotch of her panties and ran down the inside of her thighs. Slowly, his tongue rolled across his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. It was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. Her next breath caught in her throat as she came.

"Nia, who's your friend?" The smaller of the two women that had been at the DJ booth asked. She was wearing a dress the size of a postage stamp and shoes that made her a half a foot taller.

"Nia," he whispered. He watched the rise and fall of the woman, Nia's chest as she caught her breath from the orgasm she'd just had. The one he'd given her without touching her. Did he know that could happen? He was about a second behind her. The scent of her arousal was making itself at home in the fine hairs of his nose

"I'm Jessica and this is Tip." Tip was the tallest of the trio. Her dress was only slightly bigger than Jessica's, but her legs were longer so it looked just a short.

His entire being was in tune with the woman. His elevated heart beat ticked along his skin, her natural smell and that of her climax was part of his very soul. Only her approaching friend had kept him from coming when Nia's orgasm took her breath. Even now, only strength of will kept his dick from exploding. Speaking of which...

"My name's Luka," he said, looking right at Nia. And then left.

He bound down the stairs two at a time and weaved through the tables of the still blessedly empty club headed for the bathroom. He threw open a stall door and didn't worry about locking it. He unbutton and unzipped his pants and pushed them halfway down his thighs. His dick felt like a piece of pulsating granite. He gripped the engorged flesh in his palm, his other hand slapped the wall above the toilet and he turned his head and bit into his bicep to keep from shouting. Thick ropes of come shooting from its tip, he locked his knees to keep them from buckling. His body was so tight he thought it'd shatter as he gripped his cock, pumping his hips and arms as he came.

"Fuck," he said, when the onslaught finally ended. If they could do this to each other without touching what in the hell was it going to be like when they did? The thought made him hard again.

Six songs, three shots and two beers later Nia suggested they go outside for some fresh air. Yesterday she'd had to elbow her way through the packed club, tonight the crowd split like the Red Sea. Luka held her hand as they passed the line of people waiting to get in the club, turned the corner and kept going until they were where the light from the fixture mounted on the corner of the building didn't reach. He turned so sudden she would have run into him if he hadn't pulled her into an embrace.

Nia, raised her head and closed her eyes, ready for the kiss but he didn't kiss her on the lips but her neck then up her chin and finally her mouth. His tongue ran across her bottom lip before he pressed his own lips firmly against her mouth. The hand not around her waist was in her hair as the kiss turned into something hungry. His tongue was hot in her mouth as he kissed her breath away. Nia put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. He tightened his grip around her waist and she felt her feet leave the ground. Nia could feel his erection through his jeans and it made her tight in low places. He smelled good and he was delicious, and that was on top of being the finest man she'd ever lain eyes on. He stopped kissing her and pressed his forehead to hers before lowering her to the ground. Both of them breathing hard, their chests raising and falling together as they tried to catch their breath. All from a single kiss.

"God, your scent," he growled, taking her mouth again. Her back hit the wood-siding of the building and his hips pressed into her stomach. The tip of his tongue flicked her bottom lip before he captured it in his mouth, sucking and releasing it.

Thank God for good friends. Jessica offered the car and wished her good luck on her birthday sex and made her promise to tell her all the juicy details the next day. Luka told her where he was staying and she knew the motel. The locale sould have been a turn off but she simply didn't care. She wondered if she would have changed her mind if he told her he was sleeping under an overpass. They rode in a charged silence, each of them deep in thought of what was about to happen, neither of them nervous, both anxious.

She parked in front of the motel and he led her to his room. The lights were off but the soft glow from the T.V. illuminated the big ass wolf laying on one of the beds just fine. He raised his head as the door opened and proceeded to scare the shit out of her by staring.

"Nia, this is Samson," Luka said, throwing the key to his room on the table in the corner.

Talk about a mood killer. Nia was too afraid to move from the spot right inside the room, a little to the left of the closed door that she was seriously considering escaping through. She liked dogs as much as the next person but the animal sitting on the bed was most definitely a wolf. No doubt about it, and not one of those half wolf-half dogs.

"He's harmless."

Samson jumped from the bed and walked over to Luka, who took Nia's hand and guided it to the wolf's head. His fur was wiry and soft at the same time. His eyes were blue with flecks of gold and Nia could feel the strength of him beneath his all black coat. Samson moved more toward Nia and she ran her hand down the length of his body. He was a creature to be respected, maybe feared but he was also a thing of beauty.

"He's gorgeous," she said. Samson seemed to appreciate the compliment because he licked her hand and then rolled his head back underneath it so she could continue to pet him.

"Alright, Samson," The wolf seemed to give Luka side-eye as he opened the door allowing the inky black animal to run out into the night.

Before the moment could get awkward he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. If there was any second guessing or backing out, it would have been on his part, all doubt was removed when their lips touched for her. Strong arms held her so close she didn't know if the kiss or the embrace was taking her breath away. Luka moved backwards towards the bed. The kiss stopped when his calves were pressed against the mattress. He unbuttoned his shirt and Nia breath caught in her throat when he pulled it off his shoulders. Luka sat down on the bed and put his hands around her waist and pulled her forward until her knees were between his thighs.

"You're so beautiful."

He moved his hands up and down her hips and thighs. His hands were so hot she could feel the heat of them through the fabric of her skirt.

"God I can hardly wait to get your clothes off."

Deep...deep...way down deep, in the recesses of her brain, where common sense resided, it whispered that his eagerness should be frightening, but in the moment he could have been on the FBI Most Wanted list and she wouldn't have moved an inch. He pulled her shirt out of her skirt and starting from the bottom, unbuttoned her blouse. He didn't push it off her shoulders but reached inside and placed his hands on her bare skin running his hands up and down the side of her waist between the skirt and her bra.

"So soft," he whispered.

He licked his lips as he unzipped her skirt the same way he unbuttoned her shirt, slow and methodical, as if he was savoring the experience. Nia closed her eyes as she tried to regulate her breathing. The light from the lamp seemed like a damn spot light as her skirt fell down around her feet.

Luka was glad Nia's eyes were closed because he was afraid he'd scare her if she could see the look on his face. Hell, he was scared of what his face must look like. He'd forced himself to go slow undressing her, forced his hands not to rip her clothes from her body. He wanted nothing more than to plunge his nose between her thighs. The white lace bra didn't hide dark areolas and nipples or their size. He ran his thumbs across the stiff peaks and nearly drew blood when he bit his lip. He ran his hands down her waist. So soft. Not just her skin, her body. No six pack abs or thigh gab. Her body was padded with weight that gave her a soft stomach, hips, thighs that touched and a nice round ass. A body that was meant for him. The matching panties were just as transparent and showed a thatch of dark hair. His erection was stone trapped behind jeans that were suddenly too damn tight. Taking a deep breath and swallowing down something that was between lust and hunger he leaned in and kissed her stomach above the little bow on her panties. When her hands went in his hair and pulled the second growl of the night escaped him. He hadn't been this out of control since he'd first turned.

He put his hands beneath her shirt and pushed it off her shoulders. He unfastened her bra and let it drop to the ground with the rest of her clothing. He more fell than sat down on the mattress. He licked his lips, swallowed hard, and prayed her eyes remained closed because if he wasn't drooling he was close.

Perfection.

His hands lay loose on his thighs as he stared at her caramel-colored body. Standing there in nothing but a pair of sheer white panties and sky-high heels Luka wasn't sure he was going to make it to the main event. His erection was throbbing behind the zipper of his pants and the way he was feeling the slightest shift in position was going to make him come. But even that wasn't the entire reason he didn't touch her. He couldn't, not without hurting her. He'd kept a part of himself in check all night; he wasn't sure it was going to stay that way. He balled his hands into fist as his beast raised the hair on his arms and made his skin tingle. He could actually feel his teeth growing in his mouth. His breathing was labored, and his heart was beating way too fast. Nia crossed her arms across her body, one low, covering her stomach, the other across her naked breasts. How long had he been sitting there?

He dropped to his knees to unbuckle the ankle straps on her shoes and she placed a hand on his bare shoulder to steady herself while he took them off. Luka took a deep breath before running his hands up her calves and thighs and grabbed the edge of her panties. One hand went to his shoulder for balance as she widened her stance so he could take them off and the smell of her arousal hit him like a bat. His hands were shaking by the time he got them to her knees and he was almost done for as she raised first one leg and then the other as he slipped them off. He grabbed one of her legs and put it over his shoulder and ran is tongue through soft wet curls. Her nails were short but long enough to dig into his skin.

Nia was orgasmic on the first slow drag of his tongue. He held on to her hips after draping her leg over his shoulder and didn't move his hands as he used his tongue and lips to open her sex so he could lick her. Not fast fluttering flicks but slow, long laps. The vibrating from the growling, which started when he'd bent down to take her panties off, added a level of intensity that promised her second orgasm. She held on for dear life as it built low and then filled her core. Her breathing was panted as she held Luka's hair pressing his head firmer between her legs and dug her nails into his shoulder. She wasn't a quiet lover, but the sound that came from her mouth was almost as raw, as animalistic as the ones that Luka was making when she came. Only his hands on her hips kept her upright as he rose from the floor to kiss her.

It was a greedy, possessive kiss that he controlled completely. He covered her mouth with his and she licked greedily at his mouth and chin, liking that his mouth tasted like her. He pressed her to his body hard. His erection was heavy and thick behind the jeans he still wore. When he ended it she was left standing with her eyes closed. Still lost in the spell of him and the delicious kiss. When she opened her eyes, they fell to the front of his jeans. The hidden erection was so large she almost didn't believe it was all him. She watched spellbound as he unbuttoned his pants. She actually licked her lips when he started unzipping the jeans. Her breath stopped when he opened the front of his pants and pushed them off his hips. Her first thought was, _where will it all go?_ Luka took his pants off and held his hand out. She tore her eyes from the erection that she was sure ended at his belly button. The look in his eyes made her forget everything. It was not the lustful look of a one-night-stand, nor was it one of triumph in getting a woman naked so you could fuck her. It was something between hunger and adoration.

She took his hand and when he kissed her this time she did exactly what she'd wanted to do at the club in the dark. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He put one arm around her waist and the other under her ass. The kiss was rough and wild as they both tried to claim the other. Luka climbed on the bed while still holding her, crawling to the middle of the bed on his knees without breaking the kiss.

He reached between their bodies grabbing his erection and sliding it between her slick folds before placing it at her opening. As the tip breached her body he knew it was going to be sweet torture to work his full length in.

"You're so tight," Luka groaned into the skin of her neck as he rocked back and forth working the length of him inside her.

Each gentle thrust promised to be her undoing. There was so much strength: in his hands, in each drive of his hips, in the weight of his body on hers, Nia didn't know if the hard time she had breathing was from having so much man on top of her or from the pleasure of what he was doing to her body and she didn't care.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked.

"No, don't stop."

"You feel so good," he moaned. One hand tangled in her hair while the other was placed under a knee. She wrapped her free leg low on his back. As the last glorious inch entered her in a hard thrust her cry was buried in a kiss. Luka went still allowing Nia's body to stretch and get use to the invasion. When the slow rocking began again she moaned into his mouth and dug her heel into a steel-tight ass urging him to go faster.

"Harder?"

Was he asking permission or warning her?

"Yes."

Luka lost all control. As his weight settled on her body Luka was sure he knew what heaven felt like. Nia was wrapped around his erection like a velvet glove. Each stroke was heaven and hell. Her core gripped his shaft and every single time he had to bite back a growl. Not that he had done well on that front.

Luka pulled out until just the tip of him remained inside her and drove his hips forward so hard they both yelled out. Nia nails dug into is back until she drew blood. The smell loosening further the already shaky grip he had on his beast. He pulled her head to the side exposing her neck and licked her from collarbone to chin. Her skin was salty from the sweat of them dancing and that of their love making. She cried out again as he drove into her relentlessly. He was powerless to stop. His beast was so out of control he was close to changing forms. It was scaring the shit for him. He wanted to bite down on that spot low on her neck right at her shoulder. He wanted to scent mark her so every male who came near her knew she belonged to him. He shifted his arm to tilt her pelvis further up and lowered his own so he could go deeper. His own release tightened his back and with each stroke his rhythm became more frenzied. When she bit down on his shoulder he came so hard it bowed his back. He had just enough strength left in him to move from on top of Nia and lay on his stomach next to her. His eyes were closed but he smiled as Nia's body jerked every time he caressed her thigh, her body still sensitive from her orgasm.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked after his breathing slowed enough to form words.

"No." She rolled on her side. "Did I hurt you?" she asked.

Her face was inches from his, too close not to kiss. It was gentle, soft, the opposite of the sex they'd just had.

"God that was good. You feel so good."

"You keep saying that. Should I say thank you?" Nia joked.

"No I should be the one thanking you."

"I don't usually do this type of thing," Nia said in a low voice. "I'm not sure I know why I just said that. We're both consenting adults and casual sex is allowed. Okay I'm rambling, I think my brain has been short circuited by that mind blowing sex.

Luka sat up on one elbow. "You're cute when you ramble."

He ran a finger down her cheek and traced her jawline. Her hair was a tangled mess sprawled all over the pillow beneath her head. Sweat dampened kiss-curls had formed along her hairline and were sexy as hell. Her mouth was puffy from the hard kisses and her lipstick had feathered outside the line of her lips, her eyeliner was smudged and all the eye shadow was missing from one lid. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Luka gaze continued downward and his semi-hard cock went full-staff. Hard nipples, the size of grapes rose and fell with each breath she took. Her body glistened, covered in sweat and damned if he didn't find that sexy as hell too. He lowered his head, ran his tongue across a stiffened peak, flicking the hard knot of flesh with the tip of his tongue before taking it between his teeth and applying slow pressure until she took a shaky inhale. He kissed the love-bite and sat up on his knees. Nia tried to cover her body again. But he shook his head while grabbing her hands.

"Too late for that now, tala," he said, placing her hands above her head and holding them in place with one large palm. He spread her legs with his knees, holding himself steady with his free hand and kissed her until he felt her body relax. He kissed her chin, then the hollow of her throat. He kissed between her breast and down her stomach, his massive shoulders forcing her legs wide. Settling between her thighs, he growled. Nia jumped as his face moved closer to her core. He looked up her body and found she was still lying with her hands above her head. She jumped again at the first quick lick, but still didn't move. Luka growled, didn't care how he sounded or what she thought as he covered her with his mouth and feasted.

### **-**

Luka stood next to the car as she backed out of the parking space so close she feared she'd run over his feet. Nia had never experienced anything like the night before. The night before? Hell, her skin was still damp with sweat and she could still feel his hands on her skin, and his mouth, and teeth. His scent was in every pore. Savaged. She'd been savaged by the man. If there was an ache to be had, she had it. The only thing that didn't hurt was the bottoms of her feet. But every ache and pain was a sweet reminder of the things they'd done—he'd done. In her twenty-five years she'd been with two men and neither had done half of the things Luka had done. A quarter of them. She stopped the car half way through the J-turn to make her exit. Luka's hands fell from his pockets to his side and he stood a little straighter. Was she leaving or staying? They'd already made plans to see each other again. He was unbelievable at night; he was other-worldly in bright morning sunshine. Six and half feet of nothing but hard packed muscles. The man hardly seemed human. Nia wasn't a small woman but with him she felt delicate and feminine for the first time in her life.

The hair that he'd worn pulled back last night lay loose almost to his waist. She shivered remembering how it felt sliding across her skin as he kissed, licked and bit her body. How it blocked out the world as he took her over and over again. Lord have mercy on her soul, she so wanted to get out the damn car. To hell with Jessica and Tip. She pulled off fighting every muscle in her arms not to turn the steering wheel and head back.

The fluttering in her stomach and tingling between her legs didn't have a thing to do with what they'd done, well, not much. Every time she pictured the fierce looking man she felt giddy. A very unladylike snort escaped her before she started laughing. She wiped her eyes to clear them and pulled herself together.

Life had been too unkind for Nia to believe in fairy-tales. She didn't have it in her to believe in love at first sight or happily ever after. Her past included things like newborn drug dependency. Nia had been in only one relationship that she felt had real grown-up love and he had too much baggage and he had too much testosterone. It was young love at both, its best and worst and she and Jared had parted not as enemies but they weren't friends either.

It'd taken months for her to let her guard down and allow Jared in. There were times she was certain she loved him but the time it took to get over him was minimal—two days. At the time she thought some fundamental part of her had been broken. Her past shaping her future even after walking away from the near dilapidated trailer with its weed choked yard nearly a decade ago.

All the reasons that had driven her and Jared apart were there in Luka. It didn't matter she'd only known him a half a day, or if she strung together all the words they'd spoken she wouldn't get a complete sentence. It was in the way he led her around the club, how he watched her across the table, how he took what he wanted in bed. The difference was with Luka she felt safe and protected, not smothered and stifled. Jared wanted to own her. Luka wanted more. What? She wasn't exactly sure. The question was—was she willing to give it to him.

Nia was sitting with her best friends, wondering what they were talking about. Her thoughts on the man with a wolf as a pet, living in a cheap motel at the edge of town and as far as she could tell only owned the pair of clothes on his back and the pile on the bathroom floor she'd seen this morning. Why, after how her life had started and the hell she'd had to escape was she thinking—and thinking hard—about a man that should have a bright neon sign that read, _trouble,_ flashing above his head. He was everything she should be running from. Yet all she could think about was meeting him again tonight.

"Have you heard anything we've said in the last ten minutes," Jessica said, breaking Nia out of her latest Luka fantasy.

"Of course," Nia said. "We're grabbing an early dinner and then hanging at your house."

"Okay, so you can do two things at once," Tip said.

They were actually having a pretty late lunch sitting on the balcony of a restaurant overlooking the river. The only reason they may be able to pull off an early dinner was because each of the women had ordered salads. For the last three days their caloric needs had been met by alcohol.

"Oh no," Jessica said.

Nia didn't have to turn around to know who it was. The looks on her friends' faces told her all she needed to know. That, and the sudden heat that was at her back. It made her think of Luka.

### Chapter Four

"What the fuck do I know about being a mate?" he said aloud to the empty room.

Lying down on the bed he took up deep breathing as he closed his eyes. The bond, the love, the absolutes. Forever. He knew exactly what it meant to find one's mate. He inhaled gardenia and honey as scenes from last night played like stills on his lids. Dark brown corkscrew curls, satin soft skin, nipples the color of dark chocolate and the taste of honey between lush thighs. He could smell her on the sheets, could feel her skin in his palms.

He growled as his body grew. The change he'd fought all evening he now allowed. The mattress dipped lower and the box springs groaned as his body mass doubled. Feet that already hung off the edge of the bed touched the ground. The transition into his second form was as easy as changing into a wolf. Both were also painless and always had been. Another gift from the strong wolf who'd turned him.

Jean Rene had been the only wolf he'd seen take half form and while the rest of the pack were alpha wolves none had gain that much power. It made a certain amount of sense that his second form appeared with age assuming he'd gotten stronger. He hadn't heard of it happening but it was the only thing that added up so he was rolling with it. Besides, it wasn't like his alpha was like any other wolf he'd ever encountered.

As a full wolf he retained his consciousness, in half form he was more animal. The two sides of him teetering a thin line that sometimes all but disappeared His beast wasn't confused at all. There were no worries, no second guessing, and definitely no doubts.

"Mine," the beast growled.

The office was dingy and depressing even with two walls of floor-to-ceiling glass. The back wall sported a forest scene, the once vibrant blues and emerald greens now faded from decades of full on sun. The desk's Formica top was no longer white but beige and the glue had settled into a nice shit brown color. The fake silk plant that had probably started life as almost nice, but years of dust had stolen any realism.

Hello, how may I help you?"

The girl on the desk this afternoon was almost beautiful. It was so close Luka mourned the loss of it. He wondered if it would have made a difference if she had been born just up the road, in the small city. Her brown hair was dull and pulled back into a messy ponytail, her eyes could have been lovely if not for the badly applied make-up. Her lips were wide and full and meant to be kissed but, bless her soul, her smile was missing a tooth and there were at least two that would follow soon.

"Yes, I'm in room number twenty-two. I checked in last night. I was given a ride by a very nice older gentleman and another man who may have been his son or grandson. I wanted to take him a little something to thank them," Luka said, flashing his own mega-watt smile. "The older gentleman was almost as tall as I am and looks about eighty."

"You're talking about Mr. Benet," the girl said.

"Do you know Mr. Benet's first name? Maybe he's listed in the phonebook," Luka asked leaning a little on the dingy countertop.

"You don't have to look it up in the phone book, mister. I can give it to you."

"Thank you so much. I really appreciated it," Luka said. He pretended to be look over the dated reading material in the turnstile while the girl wrote the number down.

He smiled again as he took the card the girl had written the number on, dialing back the smile a notch for fear of giving her the wrong idea. He crossed the parking lot with its busted asphalt. It was an acceptable spot if it was just him and Sampson. It was no place to bring a woman, at least not the kind of woman Nia was. He was going to have to find something better and fast.

Luka walked in on a woman tidying his room. She didn't wear a uniform, just a pair of clean, creased jeans and a bright white t-shirt that looked brand new. She was finishing up making the bed. She let out a little yelp when she straighten and saw Luka standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," Luka said, stepping the rest of the way into the room.

"I scare easy," she said. She had a killer smile - you know the one - the kind that makes the room a little brighter and you're powerless to do anything other than return it. It was the kind of smile that makes you happy.

"Don't worry about the rest of the room if you're not finished," Luka said and pulled a few bills from his pocket. He handed them to the woman as they passed each other.

"Thanks," she said, but turned to him before closing the door. "Mister you gave me sixty dollars."

"I know," he said.

She looked worried. He could only imagine how many times she'd been propositioned.

"Have a nice day," he said, when she just stood there looking like she was weighing her options.

"You too, and thanks," she said before closing the door.

Luka kicked off his shoes and laid down on top of the covers trusting the cleanliness of the room after seeing the cleaning woman for some reason. He was asleep in minutes and dreamed of Nia.

She stood in a wide open field surround by heather. Her back to him, but the scent of gardenia rode the wind. Not that he needed her scent. He'd recognize her wild hair anywhere. It was longer, reaching the small of her back. The long flowing dress molded against her body as the wind blew. She turned her head, pulling her windblown hair from her face across a shoulder and smiled at him. Her body turned in slow motion, her smile widening as the side of her body revealed a large round belly. Facing the wind it blew her hair back and sculpted the gauzy fabric to the globe in the center of her body. She cradled her stomach, one hand above and one below the babies growing in her body. Babies. Twin boys.

The top of his body shot up from the bed. His heart racing, awe and wonderment filling his heart. Not a dream. A vision. He hadn't had one since he'd turned into a wolf. He reached for the phone but sat with the receiver pressed to the side of his head. Nia was his mate, of that he was certain. He wasn't worried about the woman falling in love with him. He had to tell her what he was. His visions never came with a timeline. It could be nine months from now, could be nine years. His exhale was shaky. They'd been caught up in the moment the night before and had unprotected sex. Lots of unprotected sex. Tons of it. He hadn't marked her, she didn't know what he was and neither made a difference. His body vibrated with the need to protect his mate and young.

He needed to talk to the alpha.

Luka dialed the number and the phone rang enough times that he was about to hang up when the alpha, Mr. Benet, finally picked up the phone.

"Hello."

"Good afternoon alpha Benet."

There was the sound of him sitting down and an exaggerated groan. If that man had aches and pains so did Luka and he hadn't had one or met another werewolf that had one...ever. At least not from old age.

"Lone wolf, what can I do for you?"

"Have you considered my offer?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

The first order of business was to secure his mates safety. If there was something dangerous enough to make the pack issue kill orders it had to be eliminated and now.

"I agree with my youngest. Whatever hunted on our lands seem to have moved on."

"Will you at least tell me what happened?"

"Certainly. My nephew had a rather dangerous rogue on his lands. He'd been killing across the country but it's been years since a kill that savage has been reported."

"It must have been pretty bad to keep a kill order in place."

"It was. The packs in the state where the rogue visited are all still on high alert."

That explained a lot. He'd been run off every pack's land since arriving.

"I've called a meeting for tonight so my wolves can scent you."

"What time should I arrive?"

"Do you have plans?"

"Yes."

He a kept it simply, maybe the alpha wouldn't ask. He wasn't ready to dive into the specifics when a serious conversation needed to be had with Nia. But if he was going to mate and have young he would need the pack. His wolf would require it. They were after all, pack animals. She'd need the support and guidance of the other women who could help her understand her new life and raising their boys. Luka almost teared up. Their boys. Would they be a perfect mix of the two of them? Would they have her hair or his? Women and children were damned near sacred within a pack.

"A woman?"

Fuck.

"Yes."

There was long pause.

"I was meeting with my sons, who were about to make the announcement. I'll tell them to move the meeting up to three o'clock. I'll send someone to pick you up. I'm told you have a black wolf traveling with you. Please bring him with you," he said, and then the line went dead.

Luka spent much of this time in small towns. In his travels he visited big city's but he loved country living. Not only because of the wolves he found and traveled with, but there was nothing like being in wolf form and for that you needed space. He stepped into the heavily wooded area behind the motel and walked in enough that no one would see him. He lifted his head and howled. After a short silence there was Samson's answering call. He found a spot to sit and wait. Minutes later the large black wolf came barreling out of the woods directly in front of him. He stopped just before driving Luka into the trunk of the tree he'd propped his back on and greeted him like any well-loved pet: with lots of licking.

They were standing outside when the same burgundy sedan from the night before pulled up. Menace C was driving and he was alone. Luka opened the back door and Samson jumped in and laid down taking up the entire seat. The driver pulled off before Luka had his foot all the way in the car - forget about closing the door closing.

### Chapter Five

Nia wasn't surprised Jared had his stooges with him, Anthony and Derrick. They followed the man around like a couple of lost puppies.

"Hey Nia."

Nia cursed herself for conjuring his ass up. She turned and lifted her head.

"Hello Jared."

They'd dated for two years. Their relationship had been intense from the first moment they'd laid eyes on each other. He'd come in the book store after filling his truck up at the gas station next door. He was as young as the rest of the young adults sitting around on laptops and opened books but Nia knew the moment she saw him he wasn't a student. He'd walked up to her and asked for her number. That evening they went on their first date and were damn near inseparable for the next two years. It had been a lot of fun, a lot of sex and a lot of arguing. He was overbearing, had a bad temper and had jealousy issues out of this world. It got worse after Jared asked her to marry him. It wasn't that Jared went around kicking dogs or pushing down small children but he was definitely a, _it's my world and you just live in it kind of guy._

"Yesterday was your birthday," he said. "I hope it was nice."

She couldn't help it; she thought about Luka.

"It sure was," Jessica said.

"All night long," Tip added, getting her two cents in.

Jared looked at the two girls as they laughed at their inside joke. The look wasn't too friendly. Jessica and Tip were at the root of at least half the arguments they'd had as a couple. He thought she spent too much time with the two, always bringing up that they were too different to be her real friends and once the trust-fund babies graduated they'd split, leaving their pet poor girl behind without so much as a backward glance. It had been the beginning of the end for them as soon as the words were out of his mouth. It took months for Nia to stop second guessing her feelings for her two best friends.

"What do you want," Nia asked, trying to end the conversation as soon as she could.

She had no idea why today Jared would stop and talk to her. They didn't run into each other often but they'd seen each other a few times since they'd broken up. It was a small town.

"I've been thinking about you lately, and today I see you. Maybe it's a sign," he said.

"Oh yeah," Nia said, raising one of her eyebrows.

"Let me take you out for your birthday."

Nia mouth dropped open. She was so not going back down that road with him. Besides, there was Luka.

"I don't think so Jared, but thanks," she said.

Jared opened his mouth to say something as his phone rang. Nia took the chance to break eye contact with him and checked her own phone. Luka had not called, as if she'd missed it with the damned cell inches from her hand. She turned back to Jared just as he was ending his call.

"That was my granddad. I have to go, but I'm not taking no for an answer Nia. I'll see you around." And with that, he and his stooges left.

"What the fuck?" Tip said, taking a sip of her drink.

"What a caveman," Jessica said, laughing. "I'm not taking no for an answer," she added making her voice deep and then beating on her chest like Tarzan. "Me Jared, you Jared's little woman...Asshole."

Their salads arrive and after the waiter sat their food down they picked up where they'd left off before Jared interrupted. Jessica and Tip talking about tonight and Nia thinking about Luka. She wondered what he was doing. Was he thinking about her? Was he thinking about what he'd done to her? Last night? This morning? God, she hoped so because she really wanted to see where their one night of great sex would lead them. And she was hoping far – very very far.

Luka sat next to Menace C and thought about Nia and his vision. Nia and his young. He was already dangerous he would be fucking homicidal if anything happened to her now. After getting some assurances from the alpha he was going to talk to Nia. The thought of rejection threatened to choke him. He shoved the feeling down. He hadn't had a vision in a while but they always came true. She would bare his children which meant whatever happened she would agree to mate him. But what if she refused his mark?

Werewolves aged slower than humans and while not immortal as far as Luka knew he and his pack were the oldest of their kind. He'd stopped telling people how old it was when he'd turned seventy and still looked thirty. It was the aging that had kept him from wanting to find someone to settle down with. He didn't think he could bear to outlive his wife. He'd always kept it light when it came to members of the opposite sex - until now. As if he had a choice. He was still deep in thought when the car stopped in front of the alpha's house.

The old man was already standing outside and surrounded by men. Alpha in waiting was there and he was standing next to a young wolf that Luka hadn't seen yesterday. Alpha in waiting's son? The boy scented the air and narrowed his eyes at Luka.

"Hello again lone wolf," the old man said.

"Alpha Benet, thank you for seeing me so quickly, and please, call me Luka."

"The pack has gathered in the meeting circle but I wanted to introduce my family before you meet the rest of the wolves."

"Of course," Luka said, looking at the five men.

There was Thomas, or as his friends called him, Tommy, Luis, Steven, Eric, aka, alpha in waiting and his heir, narrowing-eye, Jared.

"It's a pleasure meeting all of you."

Suspicion was thick. Luka understood completely. Being alpha was a lot like being a king and if this pack had done away with dominance challenges and adopted a line of succession than Luka's presence could prove very problematic for the next in line.

"You mentioned a woman on the phone. Nothing makes a man change his ways like the love of a good woman," the alpha said, with a lighthearted chuckle.

Jared shifted, his nostril flaring and his body becoming stiff. Oh shit – Nia. The boy could smell her on him and from the looks he'd been giving Luka since he arrived, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know Nia meant something him.

Great.

### **-**

Luka was happy for the ride back to his motel and happier that Tommy was the one to do the deed. There were a hundred men, women and children in the pack. It was small but they all lived on the same land. Luka hadn't lived in group that size since his people's massacre and had never wanted to. The time spent with the nine men was the only time he'd surrounded himself with anything remotely resembling family. The idea of being surrounded by a tribe who would help his mate and watch over his children made his chest tight. Jeez-Louise, if Nia was with young she was like a second pregnant. How could he possibly already be having sympathy symptoms? His emotions were all over the damn place. Speaking of which. He picked up the phone.

"Hello."

He smiled at the quickness of which she answered the phone. "Is it too early?"

"No."

"Hurry."

She hung up on him without saying good-bye and Luka parked his ass in front of the window to wait for her while daydreaming about his vision. He couldn't wait to watch her belly grow big and round and tight. He wondered if he could talk her into staying naked then. He closed his eyes and pictured her brown skin glowing and bare. He could build them something on the outskirts of the pack lands with enough privacy that she could even go outside without clothes. He'd have to remember to ask the alpha if there was any water on the land. A lake, or better yet, a brook or stream. Nothing was like falling asleep with the soundtrack of running water in the background.

His eyes opened at the sound of an approaching car. The damned thing was almost on two wheels turning into the parking lot and he jumped up. The chair's momentum almost knocked a hole in the wall. Nia threw open the door and jumped out of the car and then reached back in to turn off the ignition and grab the keys. She wasn't dressed up like the night before, but wearing a t-shirt dress and low-top sneakers. She could have been in rags and been the most beautiful thing in the world. Her hair was in a ponytail but he'd rectify that problem as soon enough. Her rush around the car had him reaching for the door and opening it before her lovely form graced the threshold.

The need to claim, to mark, to mate, was so strong he wasn't sure his beast wouldn't beat him to the punch. Taking control of his body and making the woman theirs before Luka had a chance to talk to her. But Nia wasn't damn near running to him for conversation. And he meant to give her what she wanted. Always. For the rest of his life.

Their bodies slammed together like water to shore. And his beast swan dived right to the surface. Thank God he was already so big. It made it harder to notice when he got bigger. At least that's what he hoped. She locked one arm around his neck as she grabbed his ass with the other. Luka wrapped his arms around her waist and closed the door with his foot. He separated their bodies just enough to work his belt and front of his pants open and freed an erection threatening to blow at any second. His hand went under the dress and found her panties already wet. He growled in her mouth. Nia was right there with him. She pulled the dress up and over her head and locked her legs around his waist. Pulling the panties to one side he entered her in one hard push. . He wasn't gentle, he couldn't be; he needed to be inside her like he needed air to breath.

"Fuck," he said, unlatching from her mouth.

Her fingers were digging into his shoulders, her eyes locked on his, her mouth open. The sounds she was making didn't help a damn bit with his control. He lowered his arms and put his hands under her ass to support her weight and bent his knees to get deeper. If he was greedy with need so was she. Her sex gripped him tight with each push and pull. Surely he was hurting her, but he was powerless to stop himself. He wasn't the only one in the driver's seat. Hell, he wasn't sure he was even in the car. His other half meant to have her and she was giving it to him in spades. Her hips worked with his, pulling away and coming back hard and fast, drawing an orgasm that threatened to turn his human body into a monster.

Luka's beast was about to burst through his body. He took two steps to the table. Thankful there was nothing on top he put Nia on it and went to his knees. He was relentless, brutal even, his fingers buried in her thighs as he ate sucked and licked her. She almost snatched his ass bald-headed when she came. Luka stood, towering over her, grabbed his throbbing cock, pumped once...twice. He didn't growl he roared as he came all over her. Thick ropes hitting her glistening sex, covering her thighs and stomach, even her breasts.

Luka was still more beast than man as he stood over her, dick in hand. His human self was fighting a hard battle to get back to the forefront. Was this what it felt like to become rogue? His bonding scent was thick in the air. A deep rumble started in his chest, working its way up his throat. Lord knows what kept him in his human form. Still, the single word that escaped his lips was not his, although the sentiment was shared.

"Mine," Beast said.

Nia lay shocked on the table Luka had thrown her on hard enough to crack the cheap wood top. Her breath came in hard pants as she looked into the hard face of a man she didn't know and it had nothing to do with them just meeting. What was the word she'd used this morning? Savaged? A laugh almost escaped her. Almost.

The man standing between her spread thighs was scaring the shit out of her.

Her breasts had fallen out the cups of her bra, the panties Luka ripped were around her waist and she was covered in semen bordering on hot. A lot of it. A trick of light had flashes of liquid gold dotting his pupils and if she wasn't mistaken the already massive man had grown. The body she remembered from the night before was bigger. Every muscle more defined, hills and valleys created a beast of a man. And his skin-tone appeared darker. She was powerless to stop her eyes from dropping. Afraid or not, the hinges of her jaw let go and her mouth fell open. The very impressive eight maybe ten inches now landed mid-thigh and she seriously doubted she could fit her hand around it.

Luka was still fully dressed. His pants undone, pushed down onto his thighs. God he was beautiful to watch. The muscles in his thighs bunching, the veins in his arms thick as he came all over her. Even now he was gorgeous. The look on his face made him look...feral. Wild in a way that quickened her heart and not in a bad way.

Slowly she pushed her way up into a sitting position. Luka watched her with an intensity that she could feel on her skin. His breathing was loud, he sounded like a bull about to charge. She raised her hand and brought it up and laid it on his chest, right over his heart. He took a step that brought him between her legs. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Her other hand went to his strong square jaw. When he looked back at her the untamed heat in his eyes had cooled.

"Are you—Are you hurt?" The words were gruff, an octave lower and reverberated across her skin.

"No, of course not."

He pressed his forehead to hers and took a deep breath. Nia could actually feel him reigning a part of himself in. For reasons unknown, she was sorry that he was. The sex...the man, was exactly was she wanted. All of him, even the scary, untamed parts.

He toed off his shoes as he pulled his shirt over his head. Nia removed her bra while he pushed his jeans down his legs and kicked them off. He picked her up and placed her on the bed. The full weight of his body was a comforting weight. She hugged him tight wrapping her legs around his hips.

"Are _you_ okay?"

She rubbed a path up and down his back, offering him comfort. When she'd left the house all she could think about was getting to him. She wanted to get to know him better but that wasn't first and foremost on her mind. She loved the way he made her feel when they had sex and not just the orgasms. She never let her defenses completely down. With Luka she didn't' hold anything back. When they were together, his hunger, his need freed her in a way she'd never been before. She wanted to see if the phenomena would carry outside the bedroom. If they ever made it outside the bedroom.

He raised his head and took her mouth in a kiss so slow and deep it curled her toes. Licking and nipping at her lips before delving back in for more. A tangle of tongues that she got lost in. He broke the kiss and looked right into her soul.

"I need you, tala."

The world was blocked out by the curtain of his hair, the strong body covering hers was a shield that offered safety as much as it offered pleasure. When she answered it not only felt right, it felt true.

"I'm yours Luka, take everything you need."

Nia sat up in bed. The sheets pooled around her waist as she took in her surroundings. The wolf, Sampson was sitting on the queen bed next to her. Watching her. And if she had to guess, had been doing it for some time. The tiny room didn't really leave a place for a man Luka's size to hide in and she didn't hear the water running so he wasn't in the shower.

"Where did he go," she asked Sampson. The wolf huffed his answer. He didn't know. Her body felt like she'd hit the gym hard...for hours. She needed a shower but she didn't want to wash off Luka's scent. Not quite yet.

She propped the pillows up and leaned against the headboard and thought about Luka's strange behavior. Goosebumps dotted her body. The fierce expression on his face, the tense stance of his body, the heavy breathing. It was like he'd been possessed. Yet, he'd sought comfort. The hours afterwards he'd made love to her so slow that her body remembered every moment of it. Hours spent with him kissing and licking every inch of her body, whispering over and over how much he needed and wanted her. Her hands slid across her belly. He'd spent as much time there as he had her neck. When he'd taken all he needed she fell asleep with his fingers and hand spread flat, large enough to cover it completely, his abnormally warm touch seeping into her skin and settling into her soul.

How could she feel so connected to a man she only met twenty-four hours ago? She was done dancing around the revelation. She'd been swept off her feet, literally. Ever since he'd crossed the upstairs game room at the night club she'd been caught up in the whirlwind of the man. And she didn't even know his last name. She waited for common sense to kick in, but no, it was just as caught up in the mysterious man's magic too.

She threw the covers from her legs and slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. After washing her face and she broke the cellophane on the remaining small cup sitting on the counter and filled and drank five before turning off the sink and looking at her reflection. It was the same face but she'd been changed. That she was standing naked in the rundown backwoods motel was proof of it, but it went deeper than that. She waited once more for alarm bells to clang or any kind of unrest to appear but none did the only thing she felt was the need to see Luka. She went back in the room and turned on the T.V. because it was too quiet. The wolf was still staring at her.

"So," she said sitting on the bed opposite of him. "Have you known Luka long?"

His answering bark was an affirmative.

"Am I really sitting here talking to a wolf?"

Another bark.

Nia's stomach growled. She was starving. Sex with Luka worked up an appetite. She looked at the clock. It was past midnight. Where the hell was he? She wrapped her arms around herself and walked around the small room. It smelled like them. After the rough claiming on the tabletop, the slow love-making had claimed more than just her body. He'd burrowed in right into her heart. She'd never been touched like that. She touched the place on her neck Luka liked to kiss and bite. A shiver shook her body. After the talk with herself earlier she thought she'd put her feet back on solid ground where he was concerned. But it was like standing on shifting sand or more like quicksand. She picked up a shirt that was in the pile in the corner and pressed it to her nose inhaling deeply. She put it on and wrapped it tight around her body needing to be connected to him in any small way. Her head turned at the sound of a key being inserted in the lock.

Luka stopped when he saw her. He looked up and down her body before closing the door. "You're up," He was carrying fast-food bags and one from a local all-night super store.

"And you brought food," she said, crossing the room. She didn't give him a chance to put his load down and he opened his arms to her. He was so tall he had to bend over to accept the kiss.

Luka threw a bag on the dresser before taking the food to the table and Nia took a seat.

"I didn't know what you liked so..." he said.

There was enough food for five people. "That's a lot of food."

"Takes a lot of calories to maintain this boyish figure," he joked.

Nia grabbed a burger that was a double meat, bacon cheese burger that almost required her to dislocate her jaw to bite into it. "This is so good," she said licking the sauce from around her mouth that had come out of her burger when she bit into it.

Luka threw the wolf a burger before chowing down on one of his own. He took two bites that finished half the sandwich, washed it down with a big gulp of soda before asking, "So what's the rest of your birthday weekend look like?"

Nia took a swallow of her own drink before answering, "Originally more of the same, lunch, dinner with the girls, a movie and a lot of drinking."

"Originally?" he said raising an eyebrow.

"That's before you came onto the scene."

"I'm flattered," Luka said. "Will your friends be mad?"

"No, I figure I could split my time again."

"Or I could just hang out with you and them."

"And there's that," Nia said, pulling a container of tater-tots to her. "Warning, I'm not responsible for what may come out of their mouths."

"Considered me warned."

Luka devoured three burgers, two orders of onion rings, a milkshake and a super-sized fountain drink. When he was finished, or at least she was hoping he was finished, she stood up, allowed the shirt to fall open as she walked around the table. Luka backed the chair away from the table and didn't it do a girl good to see the massive outline of a full erection beneath the fly of his pants.

"Desert," he said, popping the button of his pants.

"Desert," she agreed.

### Chapter Six

"Welcome back, Nia. The place isn't the same without you."

"I'm glad to hear it Maybe it means I'll always have a place to work," Nia said; pulling her apron over her head.

She tied the strings while she walked to the coffee pots. The book store had added a coffee station almost a year ago; nothing fancy or special made just two pots of caffeinated and a pot of de-caff. The condiments were real sugar, honey and half and half. On Saturday and Sunday there were fresh pastries while they lasted. Nia had actually suggested it, she'd also convinced management to bring in a table, and a couple of board games. The place now had a coffee house-book store feel and people stopping by for the atmosphere ended up buying books, or at the very least a lot of magazines. Frances, the owner, had given her a raise after the first months numbers were crunched.

"Are you kidding me, I wouldn't be surprised if you owned the joint in the next couple of years," Donnie said.

Donnie was the manager she'd ran her idea across first. He'd agreed on a trial basis and within a week it was obvious she'd been right. She had other ideas too. The bookstore was the first job she'd gotten when she arrived in town. The owner was the niece of the lovely couple who rented her the apartment.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said.

In the not too distant past that statement would have had her mind racing; day-dreams of the book-store being her own, but all she could think about now was Luka.

"Isn't that your old flame?"

Nia looked up from scooping coffee grounds. Jared was across the street, his truck pulled into one of the bays at the gas station. She finished with the filter she was working on and flicked the switch to get the first pot going before going to the front door. The store wasn't open but Donnie wasn't strict about people's friends and family stopping by a few minutes before opening.

Jared smiled as he and Nia reached the door at the same time.

"Hey."

Jared was handsome and popular and knew it. He'd played high-school football, dated the head cheerleader and came from one of the founding families of the town. They were well-respected in the community. His grandfather had been mayor a zillion years ago.

"What are you doing here," Nia asked stepping outside instead of letting him inside the store. She had no desire to get back with Jared and that decision had nothing to do with Luka.

"I told you, I wanted to see you," he said, like his word was law. "Why haven't you been answering my calls?"

Nia had spent the weekend days with Luka, Tip and Jessica and every night with Luka. Hours and hours talking and making love. She'd never spent so much time naked. Whatever self-consciousness she had was now gone. He liked her naked. She hadn't answered her phone because everyone she wanted to talk to had been with her.

"Because I made it clear that I didn't want to see you." Jared liked a good argument, but now was not the time or place. "Jared, I have to go to work."

Jared grabbed her arm as she turned. "I gave you space so that you could see that we belonged together."

"What are you talking about? We broke up almost a year ago," Nia said and tried to snatch her arm from his grip but he just held tighter. "Get your damn hand off me this instant," she said, shocked and angry.

He didn't let go but pulled her near him and to her disbelief ran his nose up her neck. Nia was dumbfounded.

"What in the hell..."

"You've been seeing someone."

A statement. Not a question.

"It's none of your business," she said getting a little concerned with the turn of events.

She and Jared had had their moments at the end of their relationship with arguments that could be labeled as epic. He'd never laid hands on her, never made a threatening move towards her ever.

"I still want to marry you Nia."

Worry went out the window as Nia's mouth dropped open. "Are you insane? I didn't want to marry you a year ago and I sure don't want to marry you now."

"I was young, and stupid. I've grown up a lot in the past year."

"And I'm happy for you and the next girl you date, but you and I are finished and have been for a long time."

"I'm not leaving until you at least agree to talk to me after work."

"Fine," she said quickly.

Jared didn't release her arm as expected. He pulled her closer and she jerked her head away from him as he leaned in.

"Call, Nia."

Nia looked at his back as he stormed across the street and got into his truck. He pulled out of the gas station without looking, causing a car to slam on its breaks to avoid rear-ending him. The owner wasn't too happy and let his horn do the talking. Jared didn't pull off immediately, he just stared at her.

"Go. I'll call," she said.

"You better," he said and sped off.

Nia rubbed her arm when he'd held her. It was sore, she'd probably have a bruise. What the hell had gotten into him?

"Everything okay out here," Donnie asked.

Funny how he waited until all the action was gone. Nia didn't hold it against the man. Donnie was a buck fifty to Jared's two hundred pounds. He did have his cell phone in his hand and Nia was willing to bet he'd already dialed 9-1-1 and just needed to press send.

"Yeah, everything's fine," she said.

But she wasn't sure if it was.

### **-**

Nia pulled into her driveway tired and worried. Jared's unexpected and bizarre visit to her place of employment had been on the forefront of her mind. He'd been bossy and overbearing but today he'd been a little bit scary. The look on his face had been stuck in her head all day, pushing the thoughts of Luka aside. But Jared hadn't called her all day so she allowed herself to get excited about seeing Luka soon.

"Hey, chick," Jessica called from the bedroom.

"Hi," Nia said, sitting her purse and keys on the table next to the door and tucking her phone in her pocket. .

"What's wrong?" Jessica asked as soon as she laid eyes on Nia.

Before she could answer the front door was kicked opened and Jared stormed in the house. Her flight or fight reflexes were fully online even if her brain had short-circuited and she ran around the small dining table putting it between the two of them.

"What the hell are you doing here," Jessica said.

"Shut up bitch, this is between me and Nia."

On this, they agreed. Jessica needed to be quiet. Jared looked mad. Scary mad. Of course, Jessica did Jessica.

"You're not the big man on campus anymore Jared. High school is over, get over yourself. When are you going to get it through your thick Neanderthal skull that Nia doesn't want you anymore? Get the fuck out of here before I call the police on your ass."

Nia screamed as Jared punched her best friend. Jessica fell to the floor unconscious and Nia ran to her without thinking. Jared caught her by the arm before she was able to reach her friend.

"Let go of me," Nia screamed trying to pull free of an iron grip.

"Don't you see, we were meant to be together, we loved each other."

"Jessica!" Nia screamed still trying to shake Jared's hold. "What have you done? Let go of me," she yelled while pulling and bucking in Jared's grip. "I need to make sure she's alright."

"I let you have space hoping you'd come around; hoping you'd see what a good thing we had; what a good life we could make together."

Once, she thought she loved him, by the time they broke up she hadn't. They were just too different. It wasn't a bad thing, it was what it was. His family was nice, once it became obvious they were serious Jared's mom and dad treated her like a daughter. Even the neighbors had treated her like a member of their family. It was strange, but it wasn't like she had anything to compare it to, for all she knew that's how neighbors acted. When she ran away she kept to herself, never really trusting anyone until she met Tip and Jessica. She'd wanted to trust Jared too but he was too arrogant and flippant of her feelings, and those of other people. Especially if they were not a member of his family and close knit community.

"Why can't you just do what you're supposed to do?" he asked.

"You're insane," she said in a low voice.

It was the wrong thing to say. _He's going to kill me_ , she thought, seconds before his fist connected with the side of her head.

Nia woke up on floorboard in the backseat of Jared's truck with her hands and feet bound. She tried and failed not to panic but remained quiet. She didn't know how long she'd been out but the scenery outside the windows was nothing but the tops of trees and twilight sky.

"I can smell him all over you."

Her breath stopped. From her spot on the floor her view was limited. All she could see was a corner of the back of his head.

"In time, I'll forgive you," he said, nodding. "You didn't know what you were doing."

"Jared, I don't understand why you're doing this?" she said, trying to roll over so she could sit up. Her shoulders were killing her and the space between the bench seat and the front seat was too narrow to accomplish the feat with her hands tied behind her back and her feet tight together.

"Because you're mine!" He screamed, pounding has fist on the steering wheel.

"Jared, you're scaring me. Please let me go," Nia said, powerless to stop the stream of tears from falling.

"Never. I'll never let you go Nia. I love you and once we're mated, you'll love me too."

Mated? She was afraid to ask so she remained quiet.

"You'll see, Nia. Everything will be as it should as soon as we're bound. I didn't want to do it this way but you're forcing me to."

"I'm not forcing you to do anything Jared. It's not too late. Just let me go."

"Stop saying that!"

"I'm sorry," Nia said when the car swerved.

Nia didn't say anything else, scared for herself and for Jessica. She could only hope Tip would go to her house too after class and find Jessica and call for help. She kept close watch on the skyline outside the window but it never changed. Not that the town they lived in boasted many skyscrapers or tall buildings. The tallest building was the old bank downtown and it was only six stories.

Jared mumbled under his breath but didn't speak directly to her again and she didn't try to engage with him. In their time together he'd never done anything to make her think he was capable of doing this. Jared had never been aggressive, never threatening. He talked of mating, that didn't sound like he was going to kill her, or course nothing could be ruled out now.

### **-**

Luka paced the room occasionally speaking out loud. He was practicing what he was going to say to Nia. So far, nothing seemed right. He always assumed he'd mate with another wolf. Breaking the news to a human had never crossed his mind and telling a human he'd just met sounded ludicrous. Everything that happened and kept happening since he'd met her. His restless beast, the overprotectiveness, the insatiable need that was never satisfied no matter how much or often he had her. And told him everything he needed to know.

"And she feels it too," he said to Sampson.

The wolf barked his agreement.

Sampson had been let out to roam but the great animal knew the man needed emotional support. He'd gone out long enough to do his business and came right back. Luka was grateful. The phone ringing was a welcome interruption. He thought he'd been born fearless, the possibly of losing Nia had him scared like he'd never known in his adult life.

"Oh my God, Luka, He's taken her!"

Luka willed his body still. If he moved an inch his wolf was going to burst from his body. He needed to hear what happened and he couldn't hold the phone with paws.

"What's happened," he asked, keeping his voice low and steady, hoping his calm would calm the hysterical girl.

"Jared, he's taken Nia. He's crazy," she added before breaking down in a fit of sobbing.

"Calm down Jessica and tell me what's happened."

She fought to control her crying. Luka heard the plastic from the motel phone crack and loosened his grip on it. After a moment Jessica continued.

"Nia came home from work and Jared kicked the door in. He hit me, hard. When I came to they were gone," she said crying again harder.

"Are you okay, Jessica," he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"How long have they been gone?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. Thirty....forty-five minutes. I called the police when I woke up and Tip."

"Good," Luka said but didn't mean it. He didn't need human police involved in the murder he was about to commit.

"Do you know where he may have taken her?"

"No, I never liked Jared, so I didn't hang out with the two of them when they dated. The feeling was mutual. He hates me and Tip," she said.

"It's going to be alright."

"Jared's an asshole but I never thought he was violent," she said with real shock in her voice. "The police just pulled up."

"Good, tell them everything you know," he said glad it wasn't much. He knew where to start and he had a phone call to make as soon as he got the girl off the phone. "It's going to be okay," he said.

"Oh, God." The girl said again before breaking down into a fresh fit of sobs.

"Jessica, talk to the cops, and take care of yourself. I'll call you later."

"Alright," she said.

Luka hung up and called the alpha. The phone rang long enough that Luka felt like he could run to the man's house faster. He was still sitting stiff and as still as possible on the bed. The hairs on his arms were standing on ends, his body as hot because his temperature was up. He was a hairsbreadth from turning and not into the majestic animal but into the bi-pedal monster. He was just about to hang up when the old man answered.

"Alpha Benet, you have a problem," he said before the man could get a greeting out.

"Lone wolf," he said.

"Your grandson has kidnapped my mate. I need to know where he is. Now."

"What are you talking about," the man asked. He'd dropped the old man charade, his voice becoming strong. Luka could almost see the bend in his back straightening.

"I don't have time to explain, He's had her for almost an hour," Luka said talking faster. He took a few breaths to calm down.

"What do you mean he's taken your mate?"

Luka breathed deep three times.

"I met a young woman on my first night here. She is my mate, my _true_ mate. Jared and she dated."

"Nia?"

"Yes...Nia," Luka growled. He wasn't sure he had it him to hold on for much longer. "Where would he have taken her?"

"I don't know," Alpha Benet said.

That was all he could take. The phone was crushed in his fist, two pieces fell and hit his thigh seconds before the seam of his pants split. Fur grew in on his body, his hands formed into claws and his teeth punched from his gums. He wasn't waiting any longer. And god help anyone who got in the way of finding his mate.

Luka ignored the low hanging branches that whipped his body and face as he ran through the thick woods headed towards the pack's land. Being faster than his pet, he'd left Sampson miles ago but the animal would follow his scent. He encountered the first wolf about ten miles from the Alpha's house. The man was in human form and the sight of Luka in half-form was so shocking that the man's jaw dropped and he simply stood there, only his head moving to follow the beast's passing.

Luka broke through the tree-line about a half mile away from the Alpha's house. He stopped and sent out a warning howl. The door to the Alpha's house opened and several men came outside carrying an array of firearms. Beast was fully prepared to rip their heads from their bodies but Luka needed answers to find Nia. Luka's transition from beast to man was seamless as he approached the men. They were scared but thank god for small miracles no one shot him on first sight or second for that matter.

"I felt the power of your beast the moment I met you lone wolf, you are truly magnificent," the Alpha said stepping into the open door of his house.

"Where is he," he asked. His patience wasn't wearing out, it was nonexistent. "I didn't come here for pretty compliments. I know what I am."

"We have people looking now. There are several hundred acres. He could be anywhere," Jared's father said. He was still pointing a shotgun at Luka and he smelled of fear. "We all know and like Nia. No one wants anything to happen to her."

"The moon's full tonight lone wolf," the alpha said. "He's worried, like we all are about Jared's intention."

The aggressive growl was wrong coming from a human man. Two of the men holding guns cocked them. Jared's dad shored up the shotgun on his shoulder.

"I won't let you hurt him," he said.

"You'll allow your son to forcibly mate an unwilling female."

"Nia loved Jared," he said.

"And yet she's my mate," Luka said through clenched teeth.

"Says you. We don't know that," one of the other men said.

"Stand down," the alpha commanded.

Regardless of their new ways the men lining the front of the alpha's house lowered their weapons. The only one having a hard time being Jared's father but what parent wouldn't protect their child. Luka could respect that.

"You called her your true mate," Alpha Benet said coming from the house.

"Yes."

"Then we will do everything in our power to help you find her. You have my word on it."

"I appreciate it but I'd like to find her before the moon comes up. If he's really planning on turning her."

"Agreed. As my son stated, we have wolves out looking for him now, but in our human form—"

"Give me something of his. I can track him faster than any of you right now."

The alpha nodded but Jared's dad looked like his own beast was ready to burst from his body. If he had a half-form.

"If I reach her in time I will spare your son's life, but I will challenge him if he's forced a mating before I find them. If she tells me she denied him and he took her anyway I will kill him."

The man brought the gun back up. The alpha placed his hand on the barrel and lowered it. "Eric, our laws apply to every wolf, including our own."

"He's your grandson."

"He's a monster if he bites that girl," he said.

Eric's head nearly popped from his neck his head turned so fast. "How can you say that...about your own blood."

"Because it's true. What we are is a gift to be given and taken freely. Nia's right to choose should not be taken from her, not by anyone even my own grandson."

Luka turned, sensing someone walking up from behind him: a woman, carrying something balled up in her hands.

"Lisa," Eric warned. He was scared for his mate approaching a visibly unstable wolf and shocked at her betrayal.

"Take his scent, and find your female before my son does something to disgrace this pack."

"Lisa..."Eric said, again.

She ignored her mate and extended her arms. Luka turned slowly and walked to her. He could only imagine the strength of will the woman had to approach him after his arrival in his half-form, the warning howl and words about killing her son.

"Thank you," he said truly grateful.

He didn't want to hurt the boy but he wasn't fooling himself like he was in control. He'd heard how mated wolves were but never having been one he'd wasn't sure he believed the stories. There was no doubt left now. If he could reach Nia before Jared marked her the boy was likely to live. If not...all bets were off.

He took the article of clothing and held it to his face and took a long deep breath. He held his arm out as his body began to change again. Not into beast, but his animal form. Sampson arrived, barreling out of the trees. He didn't stop until he was at Luka's side. The woman bent to allow the wolf to get the boy's scent from the shirt. They ran off in different direction, hoping the catch the scent so they could find Nia before it was too late.

### Chapter Seven

Nia debated what her next move should be when Jared stopped the car and got out. Did she try to fight even with her arms and legs tied? She could probably kick him in the chest, or head if she was lucky. And if she knocked him out, then what. It wasn't like she could get away with her ankles taped together. She knew from the change of surfaces from blacktop to dirt that she was at least thirty minutes from a main street. Hopping it was ridiculous so she decided the best thing for her to do was to make Jared believe she'd seen the light and was on board with marrying him. Anything to see another day and a chance for police to find her.

Jared open the door and Nia didn't fight him as he muscled her out of the narrow footboard and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She had time to see a small cabin not far from where he'd parked. When they'd dated he'd taken her to lots of places on the land he lived on. She'd never visited this particular cabin but she had been to others similar to it. Nicer. Her guess was the one they were headed to now was no longer used and not on anyone's radar as a possible place for him to be hiding out. The rickety steps groaned beneath their combined weight and Nia fully expected to be thrown to the ground but Jared placed her in a corner with her back propped against the wall.

"I'm a catch Nia, better than anyone you ever met before we started dating," he said walking to the broken out window in front of the one room structure that was more shed than cabin.

Four days ago she may have agreed with him.

"Jared, you caught me off guard. I had no idea you were giving me space. I need time to process the things you've told me," she said.

"Too late, Nia. Even if I believed you, which I don't, time is a luxury I don't have now."

"I don't understand why you'd say that," she said trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. "We have all the time in the world."

"Wrong!" he yelled. "That would have been true if it wasn't for the man I can smell all over you."

"Jared—"

"Just stop lying Nia. I know you've been seeing someone and I know it's serious, at least for him it's very serious, but he can't have you. You were mine first. Youre mine now," he said. "It's almost dark and when the moon rises we'll finally be together."

Nia didn't know if she was happy to have a timeline or not. She looked out the opening and thought she could actually see it getting darker by the second. What was Jared's plans? Did it involve hurting her or worse?

Jared stood sentry as twilight darkened the day. The sound of a howl made her look up. Her heart started to beat too fast and for the first time since she woke up in the floorboard of Jared's truck she was hopeful.

Sampson.

The wolf sounded as if he was right on the other side of the wood wall she was leaning against. Jared thought so too because h'e pulled a gun from the waistband of pants and shot several holes to the left of where she was sitting.

She cringed, trying to bring her shoulders up to protect her ears from the noise and her face from flying wood.

Jared eyes were wild with crazy. He was completely gone. Nia wondered how she'd missed this side of him in the years they dated. Jared pulled a second gun from his back and stormed out of the shed. Nia held her breath and waited to hear more shots through the ringing in her ears. She hoped the first had scared Luka's pet away.

An answering howl filled the darkening day and Nia found herself more than hopeful, she was almost excited. She didn't know how she knew but the second wolf was Sampson's help. She had no idea what two wolves could but she understood wolves were packed animals. If Jared was shooting at one the other could attack.

Time slowed to a crawl as she waited for something: a howl from Sampson, one from his friend, a shot from Jared, his return. She almost screamed in frustration when Jared entered the shed but she was soon too afraid. Jared headed straight for her, yanking her from the ground.

"I want you close, in case anyone shows up. We're mating as soon as I can turn," he said pulling her to close to his face.

He ran his nose the length of her neck, she tried to pull away but the iron grip he had on her insured she didn't move more than an inch. It reminded her of the day she met Luka. She hadn't be repulsed, she'd been shock, and more than a little bit excited.

A howl from the second wolf sounded closer, Sampson's answering call was still behind her but not as close as the first time.

"Stay away from her. She's mine!" Jared screamed. He tightened the grip he had around her waist and pulled the gun from his waist again.

"If anyone or thing comes through that door I'll shoot. I swear to god I will," he said.

"Please Jared," Nia pleaded. "Don't hurt me."

"Hurt you?" he said and actually sounded appalled at the very idea.

"Let her go while you still have a chance to walk away from this."

Nia's legs gave out at the sound of the voice coming from outside. Luka had found her.

### **-**

"Luka!"

Her frantic cry for him had every mated bone in his body vibrating as he fought to keep away from the small shed Sampson had found. He knew the kid had a gun and while he wasn't worried about catching a bullet he wasn't willing to risk Jared pulling a, _if I can't have you no one can_ , with Nia.

"Nia, it's alright," he said not knowing if it was the truth or not.

"Stay back, or I'll shoot," Jared said again.

"Jared, it's not too late to stop this madness. Your parents and the alpha are on their way. No one agrees with what you're doing."

The laugh ran up Luka's spin in a chill. Jared was further gone than he thought.

"Do you think I care about them, Nia's mine. I knew it the moment I saw her. She was meant to be my mate...MY MATE!"

"You know that's not true Jared," Luka said. "You like her, I understand that, what's not to like, but if she was truly your mate then I wouldn't have been able to mate her too. Not while you were alive."

"Liar!" Jared screamed setting Luka's teeth on edge. He was sounding more and more unstable. "You're just saying that because you know she's mine."

Luka didn't speak because he was afraid he'd say the wrong thing. He wasn't exactly known to use his words.

"Just leave," Jared said through the door.

Luka couldn't, he couldn't even pretend like he was. He stood outside scanning the nearly dilapidated structure trying to figure out a way to get in. The sound of four-wheelers was not far off and fast approaching. He knew his and Sampson's howls would let their location be known. He really hoped Jared was lying about not caring about his parents and grandfather's opinion. If not, there were in real trouble. Luka was willing to give them a chance at talking their kid off the ledge but it was only a matter of time before Luka went in. And it didn't matter if Jared had a potato gun or a German Heavy Gustav.

Since gaining the ability to change at will Luka hadn't tracked when the moon was full and he no longer exhibited the heightened aggression that sometimes accompanied it, but for the first time in ages he could actually feel its progression in the sky.

"Jared, I know you don't want to hurt her, I know you won't hurt her...not if you love her," he said hoping it was true.

"Shut up!" Jared yelled at him. "You don't know me, so just shut up and go away."

"I can't," Luka mumbled to himself.

Four-wheelers carrying this parents and a second with the chief kicked dirt into the air as they came to stop not far from Luka.

"Jared, please, don't hurt that girl," his mother shouted as her mate grabbed her arm to stop her from running into the shed.

"He has a gun," Luka said to the struggling woman.

"You're suggesting that my son would shoot me," she said with a raised eyebrow.

Luka shrugged. "I'm just giving out pertinent information."

"Are you joking?" Eric said with a look part confused-part angry.

"If ever a time," Luka said looking back at the cabin Jared was holed up in with the love of his life.

Jared's mother settled down enough for Eric to release her and together the group of people standing in the weed-choked area surrounding the old hunting shack watched the sun final descent below the horizon. Men and women dropped to the ground all around him.

And so it began.

### **-**

Jared was holding her around the waist, the gun drawn and pointing at the front door when he made a pained noise and began to drag Nia to the ground. Unfortunately whatever pain he was in didn't make him release her. He fell on top of her, pinning her beneath him. His body was so hot it was like he'd been set on fire. Nia struggled against the weight. When she saw the hair begin to grow thick and long on Jared's arm she was struck still. It was when the shape of his arm started to change when she found her voice and she begin to scream bloody murder. In mere seconds the door was torn from the frame and Luka was standing there. Nia's screams were cut short because the beautiful man was completely naked. He rushed to her, threw Jared's body off and picked her up.

"I got you," he said cradling her in his arms.

He walked outside where the scene unfolding was something she'd never forget as long as she lived. Writhing bodies, the eerie sound of creaking and snapping, the frightening silence of the people on the ground who were enduring an invisible torture.

"It's alright," Luka said walking past them as if it was something you saw every day.

"What's going on," she asked.

Before Luka could answer a low and ominous sound came from behind them and Nia's head turned in slow motion. She knew it was Jared before her eyes focused on the form standing in the doorway. Her mind and eyes battled each other for which was right. Her eyes totally seeing a wolf, her mind saying: impossible.

Luka cut the duct tape that held her ankles together and then popped what was around her wrist and placed her in the back of Jared's truck bed.

'What's going on," she asked again.

Luka looked so sad she placed her palm on his cheek. The connection was something they both needed. He closed his eyes, turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Before she could say anything he backed away from her and Nia's eyes widened as he changed.

He didn't fall to the ground, there was no writhing or sounds of creaking or breaking. He grew bigger...thicker, as hair sprouted all over his body, his face pulled like taffy until the bottom of his face became something right out of nightmares but his eyes never changed, within the great beast was the man she'd fallen in love with.

She reached out, wanting to touch him to assure herself and him that yes, it was alright. Luka raised his foot to step forward but was knocked off balance when Jared ran into him.

Nia yelled more out of surprise than from real fear or concern. There was no way Jared was going to hurt Luka, not in his current state. She doubted much could. She watched enthralled as the beast battled the St. Bernard sized wolf. Slowly the other wolves walked forward but none interfered with the schooling being given to Jared.

Nia spotted Sampson and she longed to go to Luka's pet but she had enough sense to stay put. She didn't need to offer any kind of distraction while the fight lasted.

Jared launched himself at Luka again only to be batted down like a stuff animal. Never one to take no for an answer the idiot tried again. Luka was obviously trying to avoid hurting Jared but true to form, he wasn't taking no for an answer. Luka's great body was more than Jared's smaller frame could take on but he got an A for effort. Jared growled and snarled, great fangs snapping and looking for a place to latch on. Luka easily keeping the younger wolf at bay until the two finally came together, rolling away from the truck. Nia watched, amazed again as Luka's body seamlessly changed from beast to wolf. A wolf that made Jared look like a tea-cup poodle.

Luka's warning growl was so low Nia's bone's vibrated and the wolves gathered around the truck cowered and whimpered. Jared advanced once more only to be pinned, Luka's massive jaws closed around the scruff of his neck, his body making him immobile. Even Nia knew the fight was over. Jared struggled a little longer and finally submitted. Luka remained in the same position until Jared didn't move for a full minute before he release the smaller wolf and stepped way. Jared didn't jump up and attack again, which Nia had fully expected. Over at last, Luka threw his head back and howled.

Luka's transition back to beast was like magic. Nia wasn't sure if she was just too shocked to move or just plain stupid. The opportunity to escape had come and gone and it never crossed her mind. As Luka approached the truck the other wolves slowly backed away but the great beast was paying them no attention, he had eyes only for Nia. He walked slowly, as if he was giving her a chance to change her mind or come to her senses and run. She wasn't going to run.

An eternity came and went as he approached the truck. He looked...indestructible. She looked at him, and nearly cried at the uncertainty in his eyes. She lifted her hand and rubbed the side of his face, even ran a finger down a very long and very sharp looking tooth.

She shook her head. Then repeated his words. "It's going to be alright."

So much for figuring out how to break the news to Nia. Luka stood in front of the woman so damned proud it was a wonder he didn't grow bigger. She was surrounded by werewolves and a monster and she was telling _him_ it was going to be alright. Beast growled in approval. Every fiber of his being demanded he pluck the woman from the bed of the truck and make a run for it but his superior hearing picked up the sounds of police. The shack was about a mile from the cul-de-sac the alpha's house sat in.

The boy had really created a cluster fuck. Assault and kidnapping—on a damn full moon. Werewolves dated full-humans all the time, sometimes even marrying them but the rules still applied, stay under the radar and keep the knowledge of their existence hidden. Jessica's call to the police started a ball rolling that needed to be stopped.

The few human left in the yard surrounding them were either openly gawking or looked ready to run into the woods in hopes of escaping the beast standing before them. He looked back a Nia, who looked calm—shocked and awed—but steady as a rock. She knew his secret and yet being a werewolf wasn't the only news he had to break, now was it? With her staring right into his eyes he held out hope that she'd be just as accepting to his final offer. God help him if she refused. She was pregnant. He smelled it on her. Beast, happy with Luka's plan, stepped back; allowing the man to take form.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded, but remained silent. Was she in shock? Luka offered an embarrassed smile. "Surprise."

She laughed. The sound washed over him like cool water. He rushed forward, grabbing her up in a hug and happier still when she held him just as tight. He pulled her from the bed of the truck and kiss the ever living shit out of her. His mate.

They didn't have much time, they needed to stop the police before they started searching the area. There was no way in hell he was leaving her side but he couldn't exactly stroll back with Nia butt-ass naked. He looked over the pack surrounding them. About ten wolves were still cowering and fifteen humans standing. He zeroed in on the boy's mother. She wasn't gawking or looked like she was ready to bolt.

"The police just arrived, can you handle them?"

"Yes, I think so."

He nodded and looked back at Nia. He placed a palm large enough to cover the entire side of her face. "You are everything I never knew I needed. We'll talk after the police are taken care of."

"Okay," Nia said, giving his hair a soft tug. The need to claim her had him feeling sorry for the boy. "I'll see you later."

"Later? Tala, I'm never leaving your side again," he said, meaning every word. He stepped back and turned into a wolf.

His animal form was so tall Nia barely had to bend over to run her hand across his head. Samson ran from the woods and Luka growled as the animal approached way too fast but the animal stopped short before knocking the woman down. She greeted him with open arms and hugged the animal around the neck.

Jared's mom approached. "Nia, sweetheart, I'm so sorry about what Jared tried to do."

Nia glancing at the wolf that was the young man she'd dated for years. "Ms. Benet, I won't press charges but I'm not sure how much that's going to help."

The woman nodded her understanding. "Thank you, it's more than he deserves," she said looking at her son. Was he still cowering because of Luka or his mother? The hard gaze certainly could make grown men fear for their lives. "We'll talk to the police and get you home."

### Chapter Eight

It was the middle of the night, he was in Bum Fuck Nowhere, living in the seediest motel imaginable and naked. None of that made a damn bit of difference. He was that riled. Luka growled in frustration. Heavy foot-steps nearly crumbled the already cracked sidewalk as he made it his way to his room. Nia had been questioned by the police at the pack alpha's house. They'd taken her home where both Jessica and Tip had set up camp for the night if he had to guess. He'd left her with her two best friends and Sampson. The damn wolf hadn't left her side. That had been _his_ promise, _his_ job.

He'd come back to the hotel to get dressed and then he was going right back. He flicked the switch, turning on the lights headed for a quick shower but there was a knock at the door before he'd taken the four or five steps to reach the bathroom. He jogged into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He opened the door.

Damn Wolf Hunters. They were almost as bad as pack alphas.

"Oh, hey there, are you Lootah Lyotaka?" he asked.

Luka's eyebrow almost reached his hairline. Only a handful of living people knew his tribal name. His heart thumped against his chest loud enough for the hunter to hear it. "I am."

"I'm Zachariah Wolfe, you're a hard man to catch up with."

He had no idea he was being looked for.

"Your friends are trying to get in touch with you and seeing as you're the last person in the civilized world without a cell phone you've made it quite difficult. Every Wolfe Hunter in the country has been tracking you."

"My friends?"

The man held up a white envelope. "This was at the front desk. It's from Alexis Broussard."

"Please come in," he said moving out of the doorway, motioning for his guest to have a seat in one of the two chairs in the room.

Luka pulled open the bi-fold doors of the closet and grabbed the only pair of clothes he now owned and went to the bathroom to put them on. When he came out the Wolf Hunter was still at the table. The note from Alexis sitting in the middle of the table.

"You've been looking for me?" Luka asked sitting next to Zachariah.

Zachariah took off his hat, crossed his leg and hung his hat from his knee."

The man chuckled at Luka's continued state of bewilderment. There was a world-wide hunt, then word got out you were in the states so...here I am."

"I'm sorry," Luka said shaking his head, "It's been a long time since I've spoken to any of the men from my pack."

"I was told that, too. And there're a lot of changes that have taken place. I can tell you what I know but you're going to have to call Alexis to get the specifics behind why he's calling you. First off, your old Alpha is now Wolf King."

"Excuse me?" Luka's eyebrows were getting a workout today as they both reached for the heavens..

Jean Rene hadn't wanted to be pack alpha, now it was king? How was that even possible?

Zachariah laughed, "Yeah, man, and if you think that's crazy then this is really going to blow your mind. The Wolfe Hunters are working with the werewolves in Europe."

Luka couldn't even form words for that one, his mouth simply hung open.

"I know, right?" the man said chuckling. "It seems one of the old-school hunters went nuts and decided policing wasn't good enough, elimination was the way to go. He split the Hunters.

If Luka lived another hundred plus years he didn't think he could be more surprised than he was in the moment. Jean Rene a king and the Wolfe Hunters an ally, it was...unbelievable.

He was in V-fib at the knock sounding.

Nia

Luka jumped to his feet as if his ass was on fire. Zachariah followed suit. He wasn't wearing a gun, he wasn't human law-enforcement; instead a long hunting knife appeared like magic. Before Luka could stop himself every muscle in his body was on high alert, bunched tight, ready to spring in the direction of the man threatening Nia. It didn't make a difference if the man was oblivious of who was on the other side of the door. As soon as Zachariah saw Luka's reaction he became statue still.

"No one mentioned you were mated," he said in a low calm voice. "I'm just going to put this up." He moved the hand with the blade to his back where he placed it back in its sheath.

Luka was growling. He'd grown in size enough that the seam on the shoulder of his shirt had popped.

"It's okay, man. I'm not going to hurt her," Zachariah said.

The second knock took Luka's attention from the hunter and back to the door.

"I swear Luka, I have no reason to hurt you or her. When you jumped I just followed."

Luka reigned in his beast. It'd been on a hair-trigger since he met Nia.

"Luka," Nia called from the other side of the door. "You in there?"

Luka took a few cleansing breaths and relaxed...a little. "Sorry," he finally managed before going to the door. "She doesn't know—about the mating—she knows I'm a wolf."

Zachariah looked calmer too, but he remained standing. He nodded his understanding. "Not a problem."

But wasn't it?

She was smiling when he opened the door but frowned as soon as she saw him. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said opening the door wider to let her in.

She couldn't see Zachariah yet, the small eating area was behind the door. Luka positioned his body so it stayed between the two.

"This is Zachariah Wolfe," he said once she was in the room.

"Oh, I didn't realize you had company?" Nia said.

"I'm just leaving," Zachariah said.

He didn't make a move, for a matter of fact, his back was almost against the wall. He'd moved as far away as the tiny space would allow. At last Luka's beast settled completely, and the last of the tension in his body evaporated. Zachariah relaxed too.

"This is, Nia," Luka said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Nia," Zachariah said. He didn't offer a hand, he tipped the hat he'd put back on.

"Zachariah was here with news of a long lost friend," he said. He put his hand on her elbow to guide her out of the path the man would have to take to exit the room.

"Thank you for the news. I'll be sure to reach out to Alexis as soon as possible," he said.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to hear from you. I'll just leave his number here on the table," he said placing a card down. He moved for the door, and Luka smiled because the man wouldn't turn his back on the two of them. "It was nice meeting you Luka, and you, too, Nia. I hope to see you around."

And with that, he was out the door

The door closed and they took twin deep breaths and exhaled together as they hugged. Luka backed them up to the table and sat down, pulling her into his lap.

"How'd you escape?"

Nia chuckled. "I didn't escape. I told them I wanted to see you. Since we've been practically inseparable from the moment we met they were okay with it."

"How's Jessica," he asked untangling the tie in her hair. She wore it up, the reasoning he understood. At least his hair was bone straight. Hers was as wild as he felt.

"She's fine."

Luke nodded. It was a wonder the fool kid hadn't broken Jessica's jaw. Maybe he hadn't been as out of control as he appeared, he'd definitely pulled the punch that knocked the girl out. Of course, seriously injuring your mate's best friend didn't exactly set things up for a happy home life.

"I think it's time we talked about—things," she said, standing up from his lap. She crossed the room and started pacing. The dark mark on Nia's face where Jared struck her had him grounding his teeth.

"What do you want to know," he asked because he sure didn't know where to start.

"What's mating? Is it like marriage?"

"It like marriage in that two people agree to spend the rest of their lives together. For a werewolf couple, where the man and woman are already wolves there's a ceremony and a party—the same as when someone in your world marries. For a human and werewolf to mate it takes a bite."

"So Jared was waiting on the moon so he could change and bite me and make me a werewolf? Why? If werewolves can marry humans then why did he want to bite me?"

"To make the bond stronger."

"And there's no werewolf divorce?"

Luka shook his head but answered, "I don't know. I'm hardly an expert on the matter, but werewolves are like the natural animal. We mate for life." He put emphasis on the last bit and watched to make sure she understood.

"But I didn't want to be mated to Jared. That doesn't matter?"

"Of course it matters and what Jared attempted to do is against so many rules and laws in our world that I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't shunned from the pack."

She turned, taking the few steps it took to reach the far wall. She turned and made it as far as the edge of the bed before turning and doing it again.

"You told Jared you were my mate," she said. The words were spoken low.

"I am."

"Do you want to bite me?" she asked just as low.

"With every fiber in my being I want my teeth in your skin. I want to make you mine in every way. I want to mark you so that every wolf knows you belong to me."

"You don't know me," she countered.

He shrugged and remained silent.

"What if we don't get along? Or grow apart? Or—I don't know—find someone else."

Luka smiled. How could he not. "There will never be another for me and if you wear my mark I guarantee you'll feel the same. I know you feel it already, the connection between us."

"Yeah, but—"

"No but. I knew the first time I laid eyes on you that you were meant for me. Maybe the first time I scented you on the air in the club. Within our world is something close to soul-mates. It's called a true mated pair of wolves. I think that's what we are. We're supposed to be together."

"You think we're soul-mates."

"Yes."

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her knee almost touching his.

"I was born addicted to drugs. My mother was a full time heroin addict and part time prostitute. I installed a deadbolt on my bedroom door when I was twelve when one of my mom's _friends_ kept eyeing me in a way I didn't like. The first sixteen years of my life was nothing short of hell. That's when I ran away. After everything I went through, I built a life."

"What are you saying," Luka asked leaning forward, placing his hands between his knees. He wanted to touch her but he kept his hands to himself.

"I'm scared," she said looking right at him. "I've learned werewolves are real, was kidnapped and almost turned into one, and the only thing that scares me is the way I feel about you."

The great gust of breath actually blew her hair back. He damn near collapsed in the chair. He was that afraid she was going to leave and not just the room. He slid from the chair, landing between Nia's knees and took her hands in his.

"This has to be frightening, but we can take it slow. You can learn my people's way and then you'll see what I say is true. To be mated is so much more, Nia. It's nothing like human marriage. We'll always love each other, only grow closer and there will be no one else, ever."

"Okay," she said, offering a comforting squeeze to his hands. "I believe you Luka."

There was so much more to say but there was time. A lifetime. Because Nia would come to realize what it meant to be a mate and she'd love him and their children. He looked down at her stomach. As beast he'd smelled the changes in her body. Within her womb grew two babies.

"What was going on between you and Mr. Wolfe when I arrived," she asked.

""A misunderstanding," Luka answered, with a chuckle.

"Was he really here about an old friend?"

"Yea," Luka said. "It's amazing really. I was just thinking about Alexis not too long ago. I hadn't seen him in years."

"Is it a good thing that he's reached out?"

"I don't know."

"Will you be happy to speak to him?"

"I don't know. It depends on what he has to say."

"That sounds like things ended badly."

"Not exactly...Alexis and the men that made up our pack became the family I'd lost. It hurt when we separated."

"You don't have to call."

"I do. That's what it means to be in a pack. I didn't make a promise, and what we have is stronger than any oath or vow. Alexis wouldn't have gone through the trouble of tracking me down if it wasn't important."

"Tracking you down?"

"I'm a bit of a wanderer."

"With no phone," she added.

"With no phone."

He stood, pulling her from the bed. "I need a shower. Join me."

"I've seen that shower. There's no room."

"For you, Tala, I'll make room."

### **-**

Luka held the phone in one hand and the letter Zachariah Wolfe left in the other. Any other time he would have called right away. Not because of the oath he taken when he became part of the pack but because he missed Alexis. He'd missed all of them. It had taken a long time to get used to not being with them. He would never admit to missing Wallace and Furious endless bickering, they were like an old married couple, but he did. Same as for the quiet reserve of Rob, who rarely spoke but he know had every man's back. Alexis wasn't exactly Chatty-Cathy but he too, was a brother. Tomas was always finding trouble. They'd been ran out of plenty of towns and ran from plenty of law behind his shenanigans. The twins were less sociable than Wallace and Furious but not as introverted as Rob and Alexis and nowhere near the head ache of Tomas. It still seemed impossible that they were not related but they weren't.

How long had he'd prayed for this day when they first went their separate ways. Granted it would have been a little bit harder, the phone hadn't been invented yet. Maybe he'd been looking for a long time. All Luka knew was things had changed...drastically. Not that Alexis or Jean Rene wouldn't understand. They were wolves, they understood about mating.

Luka took a deep breath and dialed the number on the card. He almost wished no one would answer so he could say he tried.

"Hello."

The deep baritone was sweet music and nails on a chalk board. He'd missed his friend but something in his gut that Alexis wasn't just tracking down an old friend.

"Alexis."

"Mankiller."

He laughed. Wallace had given him the name saying it sounded badass.

"It's good to hear your voice, brother," he said in truth. "Tell me."

The brief silence told him his gut was right. This was no catch-up call.

"I'm calling you back to pack."

There was only one answer. "Of course. How bad is it?"

"Do you know anything?" Alexis asked.

"Only that Jean Rene is Wolf King."

"I'll give you the abridge version of events. I assume you have affairs to put in order so I won't keep you. We need you as soon as possible."

He listened for close to an hour to a tale that included: Fenrir reincarnated, the actual Geri and Freki, a magic sword and supped-up hunters going by the new moniker of The Executioners. Luka wondered how long the unabridged version was.

"You're sure you not just laying it on thick to ensure my coming?" Luka asked.

"If only I were. This is an enemy like the wolf has never seen."

"Are you saying this Alfred has a shot of actually hunting us to extinction?" Luka asked.

"Unlikely. Our biggest concern is this war drawing attention to our kind."

"Fuck," Luka said with real feeling.

"Indeed," Alexis agreed.

"Whatever magic behind Alfred's sword and new army is strong. I fear the only reason we've been able to hold him off this long is because his recruits are new and not of the original line. Brute strength only counts for so much."

"True...wait, what do you mean not of the original line?" Luka asked frowning.

"Alfred's enlisting non-Wolfe humans."

"You're kidding.

"I wish."

"Any good news to go with all this bad?" Luka asked, but he wasn't holding out much hope.

"I wouldn't be calling the pack back together if there wasn't something worth fighting for."

"Survival and wiping out a mad man isn't enough of a prize?"

Alexis chuckled. "Yes, that would be enough, and I can tell you all the good that has happened but you have to be here to truly understand it. Things are...different."

"Gaining a third form and turning at will different or something more different than that," Luka asked.

"More different...special...magical even. And it all started with Nonakris, our White Queen."

"Jean Rene's taken a mate?" Shocked again. Their packed alpha was one of three that never took a woman, Alexis and Rob were the other two.

"As have Wallace, Furious and Constantine. He's married to Thomas's daughter."

"Constantine's married to a Wolfe hunter's daughter?"

Alexis laughed again. "Yes. The matings, the women and children, it's something none of us would have ever dreamed of having when we were together."

"Well, we were a lot younger then," Luka said.

"I don't remember Jean Rene turning anyone under the age of thirty. We were men then, in a time when thirteen or younger was old enough to call a boy as such."

"And you? Have you found the one?" he asked.

Alexis was quiet a few ticks before answering, "No, I've yet to be so lucky."

But Luka wasn't sure if he believed him. "I've met someone."

"I suspected; when you asked for a few days."

"It's complicated," he said.

Alexis didn't chuckled he actually laughed for about a half a minute.

"A newly turned twenty-six year old American woman convinced a five-hundred year old werewolf to become king, Odin's insane pet is reincarnated and gifted with immortality thus becoming a god, Furious and Wallace are not only wolves but also bears, two of the mates are descendants of Geri and Freki, who visit quite regularly, and you call finding your mate complicated?" He said and laugh again.

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"There was instant attraction for every mated male in our pack. It took days, not weeks or months."

"Really...days" he asked, his voice full of doubt.

"If that. I know personally Jean Rene and Diana took seconds."

"I wouldn't have figured you a romantic old friend."

"We are magical beings created from love by a mythological God. Everything about our kind is extraordinary, why should you find it so hard to believe this?"

"Because I've been this magical being a long time."

"Yes, tis true," he said with a sigh. "I've been around mated wolves long enough to know you need to do as I say or don't bother coming."

"What," Luka asked surprised.

"We're fighting a war Luka. I know Thomas wasn't a wolf but you had to know him to understand the significance of his death. He was otherworldly in his own way, fierce and fearless. We've lost a lot of wolves, and a lot of hunters but Thomas was a force of nature. For him to be cut down in battle...well," Alexis said sighing again. "Maybe I am a romantic after all. I don't want you to die here alone."

"I won't be alone," he said.

"No, of course not, but as much as we love you. It's nothing compared to the love of your mate."

It was Luka's turn to sigh. "You know I'm coming."

"I do. And I can only say, it'll be a huge mistake if you do. We need you at your best."

"I'm always at my best," Luka said, feigning offense.

"No, you just think you are. You've been half a person these long years and didn't even know it. I'll tell Jean Rene and the other's you've contacted me. We eagerly await you and your mate's arrival," he said and hung up before Luka could object.

### Epilogue

Luka's life was full of such sadness, wandering alone, never having a home or any friends once he separated from his pack. When he got to the part about meeting her she had already made up her mind. To be honest, it had been made up long before that. So when he finished telling his story and answering all her questions she'd told him she wanted to bind herself to him in every way. Seeing the man on his knees in front of her had brought tears to her eyes. He'd asked if she was sure. She assured him that she'd never been surer of anything in her life. He'd asked if she wanted time to think about it. She'd told him she was ready to start their new life together that instant.

Agreeing to wear Luka's mark had been the icing on the layer cake that was now her life.

He had to bite her...as wolf, or in half-form.

She'd decided half form.

Her body responded at the memory.

"Tala," Luka growled.

Hearing the pet name he'd given her only made things worse. Thank God they were in a plane and that Luka was too big to comfortable fit in the tiny airplane bathroom.

She squeezed his hand and turned her head, blushing at the things he done to her.

She'd watched spellbound as his body grew in size and his figures changed. Her heart raced, and her breathing came quick at the thought of what was about to happen. He'd warned her it would hurt. And as his teeth became long and pointed she tried not to think about their size and the fact that soon they'd be piercing her skin. Luka couldn't talk much in his half-form but he told her he could still understand her. He gave her a questioning look after he'd turned and she nodded her final answer. She'd expected something so different than what happened.

Luka rose from the floor, picking her up along the way and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down on her bed and she was motionless as he towered over her, taking an eternity just looking at her. Dexterity was an issue for his clawed hands so he didn't unbutton or unzipped, her clothes were destroyed in their removal.

Naked, exposed and open completely it was in this moment she became his. His body had grown bigger and his clothes, while tight, remained, for the moment, undamaged. But just because he was covered didn't mean she couldn't make out how aroused he was.

Everything grew in his half-form.

Everything.

Luka's kneed her legs apart as he lowered himself on the bed, caging her within arms the size of tree trunks. He leaned down, a face only a mother or a lover could love, came closer and closer until her vision blurred. Luka licked her. His tongue dryer than she'd expected and rougher than in human form. He worked his way down her body, the texture of his tongue a strange but erotic feel. When he reached the apex of her thighs her breath caught in her throat at the long, deep, rumbling growl that escaped him. He grabbed her legs at the shins, spread her wide and gave her orgasms that made her scream. With her body still riding high he bit her, the strike quick. It hurt. Like a motherfucker. Luka lapped at the wound long after the pain had dulled to something bearable, returning to his human form between on long lick and the next. Then he'd made slow love to her.

Luka had come to her after his phone call with his old friend and explained everything and then asked that she leave with him. She'd said yes immediately. Saying good-bye had been hard for her. Jessica and Tiffany were worried and told her so. Then warned Luka they'd hire someone to take his ass out if they found out he'd mistreated her. They weren't happy when she left but both told her they hoped she found happiness. They promised to stay in touch, meaning she had to call every day. It was a promise she planned on keeping for as long as her new life allowed.

The pilot announced they were beginning their descent, went over the weather, wished them a good day and then thank them for their business. Nia had never been on a plane and was nervous for a half a second. Somehow the thought of crashing and burning didn't seem possible with Luka sitting next to her. As far as she was concerned, there was little left in life to worry about. He might as well been Superman.

Nia tuned away from the window and looked into the face of her love. Every night since he'd turned her, and every day too, that's all she saw when she looked into his lovely face.

Unbelievable

Unconditional

Never-ending

Fairytale

True love.
Author Notes

I won't keep you long. I know there are worlds to discover, characters to fall in love with and to hate, heroines to cheer for and villains to boo. I too, have a book boyfriend I'm dying to see again.

First, let me say, thank you. It is sincere and heartfelt. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you've taken time to read my work and I hope you enjoyed reading the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them (the drafts, editing sucks ass). I will say that these are the most edited first editions I've every self-published and I'm certain there are still errors. For that, I apologize.

Second, for those wondering where I got the ideas for the stories. The beginning of Berserker was actually a nightmare I had years ago. The entire beginning is exactly how I remember the dream; waking up in an abandoned house in New Orleans during Mardi Gras with a house full of men I knew wanted to rape me. It morphed into a different type of dream where I watched a woman fall in love with an older man who had a live-in lover and wanted her to become their third.

I started writing this story years ago and it was not a paranormal romance. I'd only gotten the first couple of paragraphs before I put it aside to write something else because it just didn't speak to me. Unit it did. Writing Wallace's story, The Red Wolf, was when I saw the rest of the pack. Wallace is my favorite character in all my books (Malachi is my second favorite) and he needed something or someone who grated his damn nerves. I can't explain it. It just is.

Tristan, Nicole and Titus, or as I think of them, T-N-T, came to fruition during a time when I was reading books by Laurell K. Hamilton (The Anita Blake Series), and JA Huss (Three, Two, One,321 and The Turning Series). Oddly enough, my own Lovers Series offered no inspiration. Once it was decided that the rest of the Nuntis Clan pack of werewolves needed to be found, I had to find them. Originally this story was supposed to be a full size novel with Tristan and Titus in a sick, twisted, game of debauchery where they keep Nicole in the dark the entire time. Out of the three short stories this one was changed the most. It doesn't read anything like I envisioned it. Hell, it doesn't even read the same as it did two weeks ago. I refused to edit it any more for fear of changing major parts AGAIN.

Luka is the oldest story and my first attempt at writing paranormal romance. I struggled with writing it all the way to the bitter end. I won't lie, I didn't do right by Luka and Nia. I guess I'll have to do better when they join the rest of the pack.

Last, but certainly not least:

### SURPRISE!

There's another story.

With the exception of Stephan King, I never, ever, read the author's notes or comments. I skip right past all acknowledgements, dedications and glossaries and get straight to reading and I usually don't read excerpts from next book, newest books, or different series.

What I will do, is sit in a theater until the studio logo scrolls up the screen and the lights come on in hopes for a sneak peak of the next movie. I know—I know—it's the same goddamn thing.

So I decided to see who would get up and leave the theater/close the book, when they got to what appeared to be the end and who would stay/read to the very end.

Or at least notice there's still seventeen pages left.

April 22, 2019

### Henri

His left hand hurt. The single knock-out punch was delivered light years ago and the events that'd happened since could fill an eternity. In all his years, in all his dealings, nothing compared to what he'd just lived through. Not even the time he got caught up in the middle of a firefight between warring factions after brokering a multi-million dollar weapons deal. A deal that supplied the guns and ammunition that he feared would be the end of him. Poetic justice...fate...karma, who knew, he was lucky to have gotten out alive and unscathed. He was back within a month selling the exact same weapons to the other side. All's fair in love and war—especially when you've got no skin in the game.

His life could have been easy, but where was the fun in that? He blamed his father, Maximiliano Bautista. A small time drug-runner with visions of grandeur, at thirty he was barely more than a glorified delivery boy for the men he wanted to be like. His luck didn't change, he didn't work his way up the ranks, the man married into money. More money than he would ever need and yet he couldn't let go of his extracurricular activities. His wife's money put him in a position where he could have hired help but that wasn't how old-school gangsters worked. They got in the thick of it, got their hands dirty, they fought and sweated and bled and if need be, died. And that's what his father had done. Foolishly and unnecessarily at the age of forty-seven.

Idiot.

Henri had not mourned the loss of the man. Even at twelve he had nothing but disdain for his father. It wasn't _what_ he was doing; it was how it went about it. Fast talking and slick (or so he thought) he was sloppy, had no respect and the newly acquired, easily obtainable, seemingly endless flow of cash made him think he was more than what he was: a fool with money. The grass hadn't grown on his father's grave when Henri changed his name from Bautista to the legitimately respected Deveaux; a name that meant something in their city. In the world. And by the time Henri Maximilien Deveaux was twenty-five it'd meant something to the underworld, too.

His education was the crème-de-la-crème of academic achievement. He'd graduated summa cum laude from high-school at sixteen, magna cum laude from Wharton's at twenty and had his masters from Yale by twenty-two, again, summa cum laude. His father may have been a fucking idiot, but his mother had graduated top of her class a year early from Dartmouth. The only stupid thing the woman ever did was marry his father. But real love seldom made sense and his mother loved his father, mourned his lost, and remained faithful after his death. She never remarried, never even dated; instead she worked on re-wiring the son her late husband had been hell bent on making a chip-off-the-old-block. Like people called him Don Bautista, when in reality even the slingers on the corner called his ass Max B. The man hadn't left a legacy, he'd left a joke.

Gabrielle Deveaux experienced little resistance from her prepubescent son. He'd gone to school, went to church, volunteered—did everything his mother asked of him because between his two parents she was the one who ran a multi-million dollar company. Her great-great-grandfather grew sugar, his son made the switch to soybean becoming one of the first in the state. He'd increased his land holdings until he had three times that of his father, becoming one of the largest plantations of its time. It grew, thrived and prospered under the watchful eye of generations of Deveaux men, the only hiccup occurring when Baptiste Deveaux took over and that had been short-lived.

The illegitimate son hadn't been welcomed with open arms by the surrounding plantation owners. It wasn't because he was a bastard, it was because his mama had been a slave. Hell, he had been property even if he'd never been treated like it. Baptiste had lived in the big house, given free-reign over the entire property, educated secretly and handed the throne when his father died. He was what the old folks called a _house nigga_ , or if you were prim and proper, a house Negro.

There was nothing prim and proper about Baptiste Deveaux. Ruthless and cutthroat, he'd kill a man quicker than a cross could be erected or a noose swung over a tree limb. He killed men on his property, men who talked about coming on his property and men who were friends with men who thought about coming to his property. When white sheets were donned the only safe black man in the state was Baptiste Deveaux. It had taken exactly one season to get the city's elite to spread the word: If you didn't fuck with Baptiste, he didn't fuck with you or yours. After the message was sent and received and he was sure there were no slow learners, he found him a nice quadroon girl, married and lived a peaceful and comfortable life.

He hadn't stayed a hard man because there was no need. He became a pillar of the community and when he died those who'd once despised him and then feared him had respected him. His funeral was attended by everyone from state legislatures to some of the sons of the men he'd killed. His early years became legend that white men rarely talked about and black men never shut up about. He was the kind of man Henri's father thought he was, the kind of man Henri had built the foundation upon which he was.

Henri was not a pillar of the community and the men who held him in esteem were on at least one most wanted list and not that pussy FBI one. The one that included monthly meetings with heads of states and rulers of countries. He was ruthless and cutthroat and had no plans on being anything but until the day he died. The men who'd laughed at good ol' Max B never laughed at him. Not after he killed the men who murdered his father. He'd been sixteen years old. Henri had gone to prestigious schools, Ivy League schools, could speak three languages and had absolutely no problem beating a man to death with his bare hands.

The portrait of his grandfather hung on the wall opposite his desk, the likeness spot on according to his mother. He'd never met the man; he was dead long before Henri was born. A good thing too, he had a feeling the upstanding pillar of the community would have dusted off that can of whoop-ass at the first sight of the man his daughter married. Caramel-colored skin told of his mixed-race lineage. The long narrow nose came from his father, the full lips from his mother. The hair on his head was cut short on top and nearly shaved on the sides and a thick mustache covered his top lip. Suit, vest, bow-tie—the man looked distinguished. But there was something in his eyes that said he could be a stone cold killer if he needed to be. When Henri thought of a man he wanted to make proud it was his grandfather he thought of. Not the one who'd given him half his DNA. Thank God, the only thing he'd inherited from the man was his build.

The grandfather clock in the front foyer announced the new hour. Twelve chimes to mark the new day. He placed the heavy lead-crystal glass on the desktop and pushed off the wood chair groaning at the stiffness that had settled in his bones as he sat there. His feet fell in time with the tick-tock of the swinging pendulum as he made his way to his bedroom. It was the last day he'd spend in the house, tomorrow—no, later today, his daughter was leaving with her new mate and he was to move into a house as old as his own but bigger.

The man sleeping in his daughters bed was one any father would approve of. Educated, wealthy, and completely devoted to his daughter, Furious Panye was every parents' wet-dream. Education and money mattered little to him, the only thing Henri cared about was the man could protect her. For two decades he hadn't taken a full breath and every muscle had been tight with worry. He'd given her the tools to survive in his world but she was always going to be his daughter—his little girl, and no amount of training made him rest easy. Furious allowed him what six armed assassins and a bullet-proof car hadn't. Peace of mind.

He climbed the stairs holding onto the railing with one hand and his aching ribs with the other. Slow steps took him to the top landing where he flicked the switch to turn off the bottom floor's overhead lights. He walked in darkness to the master bedroom suite, his footfalls silent on the Persian runner. He pushed the door opened and had a gun drawn before the knob cleared his outstretched hand. If he hadn't been trigger-happy before he definitely was now. The threat from earlier was like none he'd ever encountered, but there was only a woman in his bed. And yet...the threat was real.

### **-**

The dark beauty lay in his bed as if she'd done it for time out of mind. Midnight colored legs were stretched out from beneath the shirt he'd given her after her shower. The crisp-white fabric stopped at the top of her thighs. Another inch—maybe less—and she'd be exposed. Her arms were spread wide, draped across the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed. The first two buttons of the shirt were undone and showcase a long eloquent neck. She should have looked posed and yet she didn't. Henri knew she hadn't done it deliberately, she wasn't playing games. Good. Neither was he.

She watched with inquisitive eyes as he crossed the room, her head turning as he made his way across the room. He placed the gun on top of the nightstand and leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp in order to see her better. Two gold bracelets adorned her ankles and two more hung from her wrists. His heart skipped half a beat and his breath hitched as he looked into her eyes. They were red. He'd spent the better part of three hours staring at her after the failed attack, her eyes had been brown. He knew she was deadly; her true eye color removed all doubt, yet, sprawled across his bed she seemed delicate.

The bed dipped as it took his weight and he straddled her body at her knees, his legs spread far enough apart so he didn't touch her. She tilted her head but remained silent. Sooth as glazed porcelain, her skin was made for touching—caressing—rubbing. But not yet.

He lifted the material of the shirt away from her body and unbutton the third button, then the forth, and the fifth, careful to keep the fabric together, to keep her covered. Anticipation was sometimes a good thing. When he'd reached the last button he ran his finger up the starched fabric until he reached the collar. Slowly he raised his hand and laid it on the top of her head. Her scalp was cool to the touch and completely bald. It appeared smooth but beneath his palm he could feel bumps and ridges, lines and dashes. He placed a hand on the headboard to steady himself and leaned forward. The intricate design covered her entire head. He ran his hand across the top, down the back and stopped at her nape before leaning back.

A mixture of curiosity and challenge stared back at him. In her eyes she questioned what kind of man was he, was he brave enough to take what was being offered? Hell yes he was. He dropped his gaze to the line of skin exposed from the open neck of the shirt. He grabbed the edge and pulled the shirt back, revealing exactly half her body.

Beautiful.

Black, pore-less and as far as he could see—hairless. There was no distinguishable difference in the color of the exposed breast and the nipple. Surprised his hand was steady, he ran the pad of his thumb across the stiff peak before cupping the mound. No more than a mouthful. Still palming her right breast he pulled away the other side of the shirt. It seemed right that he was on his knees. Her body deserved to be worshipped. He placed his hands on her trim waist, ran them up her sides and palmed her breasts before running a line down her stomach. She felt like polished marble. He shifted his weight, placing a knee between her legs which she opened to accommodate him. With his hands on her thighs he looked back at her face.

Helena wasn't a werewolf or shape-shifting bear. She didn't know what she was and she'd never come across anyone else like her. He believed it. She deserved to be one of kind. The world couldn't handle two of something so beautiful. She continued to watch him silently and it was something in the act that heated his blood. She wasn't submitting—no, he doubted if she even knew the word—but she was offering him something. He felt—privileged. It was intimacy on a level he never knew he wanted, what he needed.

He slid his hand down the side of her thigh, cupping her knee and lifting her leg. He focused on the bend of her knee, fascinated with the feel of it as it moved. Hard and smooth as glass that didn't wrinkle or crease as he bent and straightened her leg. He pressed his nose on her shin and ran it down her leg. He placed a kiss on the inside of her ankle and sole of her foot before covering her big toe with his mouth. There was no scent or taste to her skin. He placed her calf on his shoulder and pushed her other leg open, repositioning his body closer to her core. Like the rest of her body it was hairless and smooth there was a slight sheen that gave the appearance of moisture but the lips of her sex were dry as he ran his forefinger from the top to bottom of the slit. Unlike her knees and ankles and toes, the skin was unyielding, hard and closed off. He pressed harder. Spreading his hands across her pelvis he pressed his thumb as hard as he could along the seam of her sex. For the first time since he'd started his close inspection she moved. He looked up.

"You felt that?" he asked.

She nodded.

So he did it again. Harder.

With each passing stroke he pressed into her harder and harder, raising from his haunches and placing all his weight on the hand covering her lower stomach, he bared down until the veins in his forearm popped. Over and over he stroked until her hips started to move, sliding back and forth, aiding his finger. Never in his life had he experienced something so erotic. In this moment it wasn't about him or his pleasure, he was laser focused on the woman beneath him, on how and what she felt. It gave him a strange sort of satisfaction, a different type of pleasure, that it was his hand causing her to move when she'd been silent and inanimate since he entered the room.

The skin beneath his stroking thumb actually started to move. He watched in amazement as her body blossomed right before his eyes, her clit slowly emerging from between the still rigid flesh. Helena grabbed the forearm her leg was draped over hard enough that he hissed in pain. She relaxed her grip but didn't let go. The back and forth of her hips became a true writhing which fueled his efforts. The pad of his thumb ran across the hard knot coaxing the bud further out of her body. His body hardened as her hold on his arm once more threatened to break bone. Wonderment and a resolve to make her come tightened every muscle in his body until Helena threw her head back into the mound of pillows. Her back bowed and the sound she made was inhuman, something between a snarl, a growl and roar. When her body fell lax against the pillows Henri was surprised his dick hadn't punched a hole in his pants. He'd never been harder.

### **-**

His breathing was like he'd run a marathon, his heartbeat was a drum in his chest and there was a ringing in his ears. He hadn't climaxed, yet the signs were the same. He'd never cared about the satisfaction of the women he bedded. Once he came it mattered little to him what state he left his partner. Helena sat motionless in front of him, her look no longer curious.

He stared right back at her ass, throwing down the gauntlet. She'd wanted to know what kind of man he was. He was fully prepared to show her. He hadn't backed away from a single thing in his entire life. Whatever shit she was carrying around because of her origins was just that—shit, bullshit to be exact. The woman was a damn goddess. Exquisite. Extraordinary. Perfect. They were just getting started. And before the sun came up he planned on knowing every single glorious inch of the woman.

She broke her gaze and turned her head. He'd seen her strength first hand, felt how powerful she was when he'd tackled him like a three hundred pound lineman. His body still ached from the assault that saved his life. But now he saw a vulnerability he would have thought impossible. He knew she wouldn't allow him to turn her head and laying a hand on her now was wrong, even if she was still spread eagle and practically naked beneath him like a damned sacrifice to a god. He wanted her. He needed her and what she and only she could give him. But first he needed her to admit she wanted it as much as he did.

He was no smooth talker, the fantasies unfolding in his head weren't full of rose-petals and chocolate. Tonight he wanted something he'd never allowed himself. He wanted to feel something. After the death of his mother he'd shut a part of himself down. The arrival of Leontyne hadn't changed that. She'd burrowed into his heart as much as she could but he hadn't allowed her far. Too afraid of what could happen to her. Now that she was with Furious he was allowed the freedom to love her completely. Her safety was all but guaranteed and a chain reaction had started. For the first time in his life he felt like maybe—just maybe—he could have more. If he was careful, he could share a little part of himself with someone else. Helena was leaving tomorrow with his daughter but tonight, she was there and he chose her. The question was—would she choose him?

For the first time in his life he was at a lost at how to proceed. How did one get a mysterious being to agree to share a first real act of intimacy with them? He couldn't speak of her beauty. No doubt every pick-up line in the world had been used on her. He couldn't speak of his desire. That seemed too self-centered, besides he wanted it to be good for her too, wanted her to give him a part of herself she'd never given anyone else. The thought was ridiculous.

He crawled over her legs and settled on the bed beside her and started pulling pillows from under her head and body, throwing them on the ground until they were lying down and not propped up. She rolled over on her side, facing away from him. The design on her head ran down her neck and covered her entire back. It was beautiful. He tried and failed to pull her body close, so he molded his front to her back. It was like trying to snuggle up to a statue. It hadn't escaped him there was no rise and fall of her chest. Gently he laid his hand on her shoulder and ran it down the length of her arm. He loved the way her skin felt. Loved the challenge of giving her pleasure in her current state, but there was so much more he wanted to give. And take.

"I've never made love to a woman," he said stroking her arm. He was nervous. The feeling was foreign. And for reasons he couldn't fathom, it felt good. The woman knocked him off his axis and she was the only one who could. "I don't think I've ever even given one an orgasm," he continued. He kissed her shoulder then ran his tongue across the design on the back of her neck. Her body vibrated in his arms and a smile curled his lips. Masculine pride had him wanting to beat on his chest.

"Liar."

The single word was spoken so low he'd almost missed it. He shook his head, scratching the polished skin between her shoulder blades with the stubble covering his chin.

"I never lie," he said.

She rolled onto her back and finally faced him. His hand was on autopilot as he palmed her breast, running his fingers over the rock hard peak of her nipple before running his hand down her side only to bring it back up and start the process all over again. He could stroke her skin for eternity and never tire of it. Helena looked at him for long moments. His gaze never wavered.

Until she opened her mouth.

She didn't speak, nor did she smile at him, she opened her mouth wide enough for him to see every tooth. And every one was pointed and looked razor sharp, coupled with the blood-red eyes staring at him and she was the most beautiful monster he'd ever seen. And that didn't change a damn thing.

"For what you want, I'll have to take your blood, slaver."

She'd called him that all night. She'd come there to kill him because he was a human trafficker. He'd agreed to stop. He'd already made the calls. The moniker no longer applied.

"Say my name," he said, his voice low and gruff. A hint of the type of man he'd been his entire adult life and most of his youth slipping through. It was a voice that demanded compliance.

"Make me."

Challenged accepted.

Instead of using words he raised his head, tilted it to the side and exposed his throat. Yeah—this was going to be good.

Helena moved like a damn pit viper. One moment she was lying flat on her back the next she'd straddled his body, one hand pulling his shoulder down, the other pulling his chin up. She struck hard and fast. Her teeth sliding like a million needles into the soft tissue low on his neck. A bark of pain escaped him as his hands slapped granite hard thighs. Needing something to grab he fisted two handfuls of the comforter. He finally understood the expression white-hot pain when she pulled her teeth from his skin. The hard pulls of her drinking his blood was no less painful. She struck again, higher up, and he wondered if she was going to tear his throat out. He grabbed her waist, to push her off but his hands didn't slap against something solid and hard.

He slid her hands down her sides, circling her hips and grabbed her ass, digging his fingers in flesh that became softer and softer by the second. She rolled her hips across his groin and he actually moaned, pleasure overriding the pain at his neck. He ran his hands up her back. The design was more prominent now that her skin had become soft. With each roll of her hips he pushed up from the bed, meeting her stroke for stroke until he was certain he was going to come in his pants. He put all his strength into an attempt to roll over, hoping she'd allow the change of position. He threw up a prayer of thanks when she did.

He braced himself on one arm while his free hand went for his belt. Blood from the open wound on his neck dropped down on the pillow and her shoulders. He didn't give two shits. He could bleed to death for all he cared just as long as his dick was in her when he did. His pants were unzipped and he pushed them down. Helena hooked her feet into the waistband and pulled them down his legs. The trick had his dick as hard as her skin had just been. With zero patience left he hooked her knee with his forearm, prayed once more his aim was true and slammed his hips forward.

And went completely still.

If he moved on single inch it was going come. He heart ticked along his skin and his panted breath threatened to be his undoing.

"Change your mind...slaver?"

Oh...Hell...Nawl. She didn't. The words triggered every dominate trait in him on a visceral level. Before the end he meant to have her body slick and sticky from his come and sweat. He was going to come inside her and then on her. He was going to lick her entire body and feel his tongue in the crack of her ass. Before she left his room—his bed, she was going to scream his goddamn name. Many...many...many times.

Slowly he pulled back until just the tip remained inside of her. He propped his weight on an elbow and looked into red-eyes that now flickering as if there was a storm brewing inside her skull. He understood completely. He pushed back into her body, forcing himself to go just as slow. Everything from nerve endings to neurons demanded more; demanded something that matched the words: pummel, drive, pound and hammer.

The slow rock of his hips was the sweetest torture. Her core wrapped around him like it was custom fit for him and him alone. He planted his feet in the comforter, tilted his hips and pushed forward until he was completely seated. He pulled back; reveling in the feel of her inner walls contracting around him, tightening to keep him planted inside her body and relished the snug and smooth reentrance. It was surreal. Never in his life had he felt so connected to another being. With more time he would have done if for hours, but time was not on their side. He had work to put in. Quickening his pace he grabbed the headboard for leverage and hiked her captured leg higher. The muscles in his ass and thighs drew taut at each thrust that was punctuated with an upward tilt of his hips to ensure each stroke ended with him completely inside her. The pace was brutal, fast enough to cover his brow in a sheen of sweat. His sac drew tight as the first of his many planned climaxes hardened him further. The flickering in Helena's eyes became a storm as varying shades of red swirled within her pupils. She grabbed his ass, aiding his efforts pulling him hard to her body at the end of every stroke.

The stiff peaks of her nipples could be felt clean through his shirt. In his mind's eye he saw himself biting down on one hard enough to make her gasp, to bow her back. The orgasm that barreled up the shaft of his cock was an eruption that locked his body in place and threatened to steal coherent thought. It broke an internal damn within him, unleashing the miniscule amount of restraint he'd held on to. Strength he'd only ever used in times of battle unfurled like a mighty cat seconds before it brought down prey. Powerful drives pushed Helena's body into the bed as he tried to climb inside her body at where they joined. He released her leg and slid his hand between their bodies and strummed her clit fast and hard. Her hands left his ass and went over her head, grabbing the headboard. She planted her feet and pushed her lower body from the bed. Mindless determination kept his release at bay. He would not come before she did. The revelation threw his stroke off.

Helena's hand left the headboard and the sound of it connecting with his back was like a shot sounding in the room. Nails that felt like daggers dragged across his back and the guttural sound that rolled off his vocal cords was one he'd never heard. He increased the pressure on her clit, circling the nub faster until Helena's body fell back to the bed and she began to shudder, her core tightening to the point of pain until at last...she came.

The storm in her pupils broke free swallowing the whites of her eyes until crimson orbs stared back at him as her body quaked beneath him. The continued onslaught of his driving hips and circling finger drew every second of her orgasm from her body as her sex pulsated around his engorged dick. Only when her body went lax did he remove his hand. Pushing up from the bed, he pulled from her body, grabbed his glistening shaft and came all over her. Endless milky white ropes of semen landed on her skin, thick lines landed on her breast and stomach and on her clit, covering it and running down the crease into her ass and wetting the bed. With every hard pull and squeeze he wanted to roar in satisfaction as he covered her sex and thighs. After an eternity, he was spent.

"You've marked me, slaver," she said.

Her eyes were still red holes in her face but the playful tone curved his lip.

With his dick jumping in time with his heart still in his hand he said, "Not yet, but I will."

### **-**

He backed off the bed as Helena sat up. He unbuttoned his shirt as she slid the one she wore off her shoulders. She got to her knees as he took the cuff-links from his shirt, dropping them on the ground as if they were thrift store finds and not platinum and diamonds. He peeled his shirt off, the fabric pulling on the dried blood from the scratches on his back. Toeing off his shoes he let his pants drop to the ground and stepped out of them. He'd seen many beautiful women, had fucked them too, but none compared to the woman kneeling on his bed. God, he wanted to kiss her but there was no way he was going near her teeth. He mourned the loss opportunity. A single step brought him back to the bed. Helena watched his swinging dick like it was her favorite meal as he got on the bed.

He pointed to the bed. "Stomach." The single word was a command.

Her eyes had slowly returned to normal, or rather her red pupils had returned to normal size while he'd undressed. She stared at him long enough that he thought she wouldn't obey but she slowly lowered her body and turned over on her stomach. Her ass was legend. She folded her arms and placed her head on her hands. She looked like she was ready for a massage and not the ravaging he planned on doing.

He ran his hands up the back of her thighs, over the twin globes of her ass and onto her lower back. He placed a knee between her calves and she opened her legs wide enough to accommodate both his knees. She arched her back, the movement revealing the puckered hole of her ass and splitting the lips of her sex. Both opened and practically calling his full fucking name.

He lowered the top of his body, caging her body at the waist with his arms and kissed up her spine lowering his body until his weight pressed her into the bed and his dick lay comfortably in the crack of her ass. He rocked his hips back and forth as soft kisses landed on her shoulders and upper back. With each passing stroke he pressed his hips harder into her ass until the flaccid organ became rigid. When Helena added a hip roll he pulled away, licking and kissing a path down her back. Settling between her legs he pulled her cheeks and lips apart and licked her from clit to asshole. He circled the dark hole before laying his tongue flat. Now who was the favorite meal?

The night was full of first. He'd never gone down on a woman and he'd probably kill any bitch that suggested he eat her ass but there he was—his grip on each cheek hard enough to bruise; sucking, licking and tongue fucking the dark beauty's ass, humping the bed in rhythm with his delving tongue, Helena squirming and writhing on the bed. Leaving her ass he licked between her legs, gathering the arousal on his tongue. He pulled away from her body, sat up and grabbed her leg and turning her over. A soft moan escaping her as he settled back between her thighs. He drove the tip of his tongue between her slit and lapped at her. Flicking her clit over and over before going lower and sucking until the sounds of her moans and his sucking filled the room. The nub hardened beneath his tongue and he pulled his face back and actually smiled as it peaked out at him. He damn near wanted to give it greetings. He brought the tips of his fingers down across the exposed flesh in a hard slaps, Helena's body jerking at each fall of his hand. Then he got serious.

He sucked on her clit in hard pulls while entering her body with two fingers, hard thrusts that worked in time with his assaulting mouth. Helena grabbed twin handfuls of hair and pressed his face into her body, which was fine with him since he had no plans on moving. Her hips rolled beneath him and he lifted his eyes. Her chest rose and fell fast as she panted through the pleasure. The tight peaks of her nipples were given a silent promise of being next as he stabbed harder with the fingers inside her and tried to suck her clit clean off her body. The challenge of giving her pleasure offered an erotic excitement he would never tire of. He'd been called a lot of things in his life but lazy wasn't one of them. He was willing to put in the work to make this extraordinary woman never forget him even if she lived a thousand more years. He curved the fingers and Helena's body went tight as she prepared to orgasm and Henri pulled both his mouth and fingers away from her body, nearly balding himself in the process. For a split second Helena remained still before she wiggled her slim hips.

"Don't stop."

Her already deep voice was husky from the heavy panting and heightened aroused state, her body close to release. He kissed the inside of her thigh, then the other. He kissed the top of her mound. He spread the lips of her sex and blew over the engorged clit. With her taste was in his mouth and her smell in his nose, he was hard pressed to continue the lesson. His dick was a piece of hardwood trapped between the down comforter and his stomach. But self-control was damn near an involuntary function. He wanted her. And he was going to have her.

As soon as she said his fucking name.

He flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue and ran a finger down the length of her slit all while she tried desperately to get him to do more. He teased her and kept her right on the edge licking and sucking until she was almost there and then stopping again. A growl of frustration vibrated her body that he felt in his fingers on her thighs and the nose running a line over her pubic bone.

"Tell me what you want, amou," he whispered, his lips brushing her clit with each word

He smiled when she remained silent. The woman was stubborn, and even that was appealing to him. He was a man use to getting what he wanted. It had been that way his entire live for most things, and for everything else once he established himself in his trade of choice. The only person brave enough to tell him no was his daughter and the woman in his bed.

When she didn't answer he renewed his efforts, circling her clit with his thumb while fingering her. Hard, fast thrusting that fanned the smoldering flame of Helena's orgasm, her hips worked double-time as she rode his fingers. When her sex began to milk his fingers he pulled them out and took his fingers from her clit but rubbed the skin around it. This time the growl had a whole lot more base in it and he thought he heard a few popping strands as she fisted his hair.

"Say my name and I'll let you come," he said.

"Let me?" she said, the words purred and sexy. He lowered his mouth alternating sucking and flicking her clit. "Slaver—" she moaned.

Her voice was so god damn sexy that he wasn't sure who was getting tortured. But his balls could turn navy before she came by his hand or mouth or dick. And just for being so stubborn he upped the ante. He crawled up her body, his sac heavy, his dick hard and ready to blow at any second. He kissed her navel-less stomach, ran his tongue between her breasts and up her neck and bit back a groan when his dick touched her core. He lowered his hips; ground his dick in her sodden folds until he was slick and slippery. The red in her eyes was a violent storm, swirling and flickering.

"Amou, you're going to say my name and then beg me to make you come."

He reached between their bodies and positioned his cock at her opening, pushing forward slowly with the thought of relishing a sweet re-entry of her body rendering the rest of the world obsolete. Only the tip slipped in before it came to a stop. It was like she'd spent the last thousand years sitting around doing fucking kegels.

"Oh, Cheri," he said and actually tsked.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he grabbed a fistful of comforter in his other hand, locked his arm in place and dug his feet into the pillow-top bed. Making a strong base so he could throw his back into it. With every slow wave his body made Helena's body gave a centimeter. Henri didn't care if it took all night, he'd breach the walls she'd closed off.

While the silence of his partner could have been unsettling her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Her face may have been expressionless but her eyes still raged, and as long as they did he knew she was right there with him. He was being tested, he didn't know the why but he fully planned on passing. He may have needed a lifetime to learn certain aspects of her life; he only needed the one night to learn her body. He was an excellent student and he planned on knowing every inch through touch and taste.

With a hard thrust his dick slipped in further, but he still wasn't even halfway inside her. He leaned forward and kissed her closed lips, a soft, quick pass before kissing down her throat. He kissed across her collarbone before dipping his head and taking a nipple between his lips. His blood had made her flesh pliable but her body was still hard. Honed down to nothing but lean muscle. Her thin frame was made up of long arms, trim waist, barely-there hips and miles and miles of legs. Her small breasts were perfect mouth-sized mounds. He drew the nipple in his mouth before setting his teeth on the stiff point and bit down, increasing pressure until Helena's hands left the bed and gripped his arms even as the top of her body left the bed, arching into the bite. With the next thrust of his hips he entered her more. Almost.

Each wave of his lower body ended with a hard push as he forced entrance. Helena cried out as the taste of blood entered his mouth. The image of lightning flickered before his eyes as a rush of pure energy licked his body, every muscle of his body contracted and his jaw tensed, causing him to bite harder, which led to more of the sweet elixir filling his mouth. He suckled her breast as his hips hammered relentlessly. Deep and hard he took her like a goddamn savage and he couldn't stop. He felt the bones in his arms creak from Helena's hard hold, registered pain in his back from the legs wrapped around him and none of it made a difference. He forced a hand between their bodies and tweaked her clit.

"Henri—"

The panted word raised his head. He slowed his hips from the punishing pace to fast strokes. Their bodies were wet with sweat and the slapping of their bodies rang in his ears. But he could hear the sound of her voice just fine, as if she'd spoken right inside his head.

"Beg, amou, beg me for what you want," he commanded, adding emphasis to his words by slamming into. The need to make her come reducing him into something primitive. In that moment nothing else matter but the woman beneath him and her pleasure—and her begging.

"Please, Henri—I need to come."

Mission accomplished.

It wasn't just the words it was the need he saw in her face. Her eyes had bled red like before but this time light flickered from behind, like crackling lightning. He could almost hear the storm brewing behind the red spheres, promising nothing but total devastation once released. The look snapped something inside him, unleased a part of him he didn't know existed, something wild and fierce. Each powerful thrust slammed the headboard on the wall. Helena threw her head back and screamed to the heavens as she came. When her core tightened around his cock Henri fucking roared.

### **-**

Henri collapsed on top of Helena completely spent and was surrounded in a cocoon of arms and legs as she held him. He was still buried inside her, his dick jumping in time with is pounding heart, and her core milking him. Even at six feet, Helena couldn't have weighed more than a buck twenty-five, yet she held him on top of her and when he tried to move she tightened her hold, so he let himself enjoy the closeness. Another first. He snaked his arms beneath her and held her right back. And for the first time he thought about wanting more. From her. No other woman would do. Slowly her hold loosened and Henri raised his head. Red tears wet her face.

"Are you hurt," he asked, his voice gruff—from the roaring and from concern.

"I am not," she said, a look of confusion blossoming on her face.

With the lightest of touch he ran his finger across her temple and held it up so she could see the red tip. She studied it for a long time before looking back at him.

"I don't understand." She wiped the left side of her face and looked at her palm. "I—" She looked back at Henri.

A plethora of emotion played across her face, confusion, surprise, panic. Henri kissed her cheek and temple, kissed every wet spot on her face. She may have been at a lost but he knew. Those tears were his. She'd released her hold and Henri rolled from on top of her. Her core tightened as he pulled out, the velvety walls were going to be the death of him. He pulled her into his arms and wrapped them up in the comforter.

"I'm at a loss for words," she finally said.

"You've already said the only ones that matter," he replied, his lips turning in a saucy grin.

Helena's returned smile held something more, a challenge, one he'd already proven he was more than capable of rising to. "So you've bested, slaver."

He shook his head. "That name no longer holds any power between the two of us. Its meaning changed the second you screamed my real name."

Her brow arched. "Screamed?"

Henri ran his hands up and down her back, cupping her ass with each pass. He nodded. "Screamed."

Helena threw her head back and laughed. A full body gut laugh that made him think of something dark and dangerous even as he smiled at her. She didn't look much older than his daughter at first glance but her eyes, her mannerisms told a different story. She was from a different time, one that had long passed.

"You have been quite the surprise," she said and settled into his arms, snuggling her body close to his. "A very pleasant surprise."

"And you are everything I thought you would be."

"Which is?"

"Extraordinary."

She watched him for long seconds and he met her serious gaze, refusing to look away. He didn't know what type of man she was used to dealing with but he was willing to bet they weren't worthy. Who would be? He wasn't even sure he was. That didn't stop him from wanting her. And as the thought solidified in his head it was a done deal. She was his. From the way she fit into his arms to the way he fit inside her body, she was his. Like everything else that had happened between the two of them, it wouldn't be easy. But who wanted easy.

"You're perfect," he said.

"Yes."

"And beautiful."

"Yes."

"And modest."

Helena lifted a shoulder in indifference. "I was worshipped for hundreds of years."

Worshipped for hundreds of years, not lived. How old was she? Henri was approaching the age where he'd bypass both his parents and grandparents in years. They'd all died too young. Seventy was pushing it for his family, he couldn't fathom hundreds. Who could?

"You're not a vampire, but you drink blood," he said.

"Only to become soft. I'm sure some aspects of vampire-lore can be accredited to my behavior after I discovered the fact."

"How was that," Henri asked, He'd moved from rubbing her back and ass to stroking her leg beneath the comforter. He couldn't stop himself from touching her.

"Human sacrifice," she said in a deadpan voice.

Henri's hand stopped the slow up and down and it was his turn to raise a brow and then to laugh. A smile formed on her lips, she kept them closed, not reveling her teeth.

"You're going to have start at the beginning on that one," he said.

"I woke on the banks of a river in the middle of the night. Animals surrounded me but none brave enough to come very close. I was...perplexed, because I had no memory of how I'd gotten there. Then realized I had no memory whatsoever. I was naked and nothing around me offered any clues on how I'd come to that place in that state. I walked until I found a village. The tribe attacked me. They recognized I was not the same even in this form. Their weapons didn't penetrate my skin, they could have been throwing flower petals at me. This was the first time I was worshipped, first out of fear, later in benevolence.

I kept them safe. I fought neighboring tribes and the occasional predatory animal. Even then time meant little to me. I marked its passing by the children that grew old and died and their children and those children's children. I was there until the last of the great-grandchildren died. That's when Furious' kind landed on the shores. A boat of fierce warriors with five hidden creatures among them. It was the first time I met a living thing that was different from the people I'd lived among. They were not like me but still, just knowing about them gave me renewed hope that there was something—someone, out there like me. I left with them and traveled the world, saw many different creatures. But none like me.

We parted ways in what is now North America. I made my way south until I reached the Aztec Empire. This is where I learned that blood could alter my body. For centuries I gorged myself on the blood of others—those scarified and later whoever I chose, pleased in the illusion offered by you species' life source. It took many decades to learn I did not have to kill my donor. I wandered this continent passing as human until I was captured by slavers. Curiosity kept me shackled, monstrosities broke them. In the time since I woke up on the banks of that river I'd never seen anything like it. Other cultures had slavery, the first tribe I lived in had it, but it was different. Slaves could and often would be integrated into the tribe. The human sacrifices even made more sense. There was a purpose to those deaths. The treatment of this land's slaves was—nonsensical. So I killed them all, the slaver and every man, woman and child involved."

Henri's hand running the length of her leg was a self-comforting gesture. She recited her life like facts read off in bullet-point. Who could escape her wrath once she had you in her crosshairs? No one.

"I have seen civilizations born and die, beheld creatures your mind could not imagine and those that are now fairytale and folklore, witnessed the evolution of mankind, and watched modern inventions make this world both a better and worse place. Through it all I have remained unchanged and I cannot die. I simply—am. Shortly after I killed the slaver I found a place in the tangles roots of a mighty tree and sat for a hundred years in hopes of becoming one with the earth. Even she refused me."

The end of her story was met with silence because really...what was there to say. Within his arms was a goddess. Never in his life had Henri felt so unworthy. What could he offer her that she hadn't already been given freely or she'd taken by force? What life could he offer her that she hadn't already lived? Confidence was something so ingrained in him he thought he'd been born with it but now he wondered—could it work? What he wanted, for whatever amount of time, would be nothing more than a blink of an eye for Helena.

"Tell me something about yourself, slaver. Tell me about your childhood—your parents."

"My mother was intelligent, articulate, and beautiful. She was also kind and forgiving and fun." Henri had never discussed his mother with anyone, not even Leontyne. He seldom allowed himself to think about her at all. "She was everything a woman should be and the one which I compare all women to."

"Including Leontyne?" she asked.

"No, not Leontyne," he answered, his heart heavy because she never had a chance of becoming that kind of woman. She was educated and knew societal etiquette but she was also a killer. His mind's eye pictured her surrounded by high-society women who carried compacts and lipstick, maybe lace-edged embroidered handkerchiefs in their bags and Leontyne with her favored Glock and trusty doubled-edged knife.

"You're mother sounds lovely, how did she end up with such a son," Helena asked. The smooth palm of her hand running up and down his chest. Both were offering the other comforting touches.

"Unfortunately I inherited more than just my father's stature."

"He was a bad man?"

"Wanted to be, he was more stupid than anything."

"How so?"

"He'd married into money but more importantly, he had the love of a good woman."

"Is that all it takes to turn a bad man good—the love of a woman?"

Was it? He'd resented his father the hurt he caused his mother. Even today Henri never understood why she loved him so much. He'd move heaven and earth for such a woman.

"Yes."

"And you?"

He stopped stroking her and pulled her tight to his body.

"No, for me it'd take an extraordinary woman."

"So certain." She said, her words barely a whisper.

"Yes."

The woman was enchanting. He hadn't forgotten about her teeth but he pressed his mouth to hers anyway. She let him explore her closed mouth with his lips and tongue before rolling over and mounting him. His hips punched from the bed, needy for the woman he'd become enamored with. She rocked back and forth her hands on his chest as she took what she wanted.

Raising from the bed and holding her close to him he kissed and licked her neck and shoulder, wanting to be closer, wanting to taste her. She smelled of lavender and sandalwood. A masculine scent but one he liked—on her. She rolled her head back and to the side and he bit her neck, low, where it met her shoulder. He was happy to be inside her and had been equally happy with her in his arms, talking quietly, getting to know each other.

Helena pushed him to the bed and picked up the pace, riding his ass like a barrel-racing cowgirl. He gripped her ass and pulled her body down hard on him until every inch was buried inside her. As his cock thickened, ready to fill her, she bit him again. With a loud shout he came, his entire body hard. It was like lightning licking across his skin each time his dick kicked inside her. She sucked hard on his neck until he was spent. The slow rise from his body had him moaning as her sex gripped his staff, the slow laps at his neck had him writhing. She kissed the aching spot on his shoulder before crawling down his body, the tips of her teeth scraping his skin sending erotic shivers through his body. He raised his head in time to see her mouth opened wide right before she took him in her mouth. Funny—he was careful not to kiss her but he trusted her implicitly with those thirty-two needles encircling his manhood.

He watched her head lower and then felt the tip of him in her throat, she kept going until her lips touched his skin and he breathed out as her head rose, the teeth barely touching his skin. When she reached the tip blood ran down his shaft. She'd bitten her lips and damned if the sight didn't make him harder. Quicker than he ever imagine he could move he had her on all fours in front of him, her ass in the air, her head on the bed. He entered in a hard thrust that had them both crying out. Hammering into her because there was no control to be had where she was concern, he circled the puckered hole of her ass before slipping the tip of his thumb in. With each forward thrust of his hips his finger went deeper until his balls slapped against her clit and his finger disappeared in her rear. They worked in tantamount until Helena sex and ass tightened. Henri's shaft harden further and his hips moved in short hard thrust as he spilled inside her. The sounds of pleasure from Helena drawing every last drop from him. They fell on the bed together. He wanted more. He wanted her. He wanted it all.

Henri kissed her shoulder. "I love the way you smell."

"I have no natural scent; it is you I smell of."

Snuggling right up close on her back he spooned the dark goddess until they were connected from shoulder to shin, his nose pressed into her nape. How had he never noticed his own smell? Surely she'd altered it some way. He kissed along the line of her shoulder again, ignoring the stiffness of her body. It was too late for that; he'd staked a claim on the woman. She might as well accept it.

"What you want, you cannot fathom."

"Wrong," he said.

It wasn't hard to imagine a life with her. Now that Leontyne was under the protection of a damn shape-shifting bear-slash-werewolf hybrid he was free to live his life. He hadn't married and didn't want children because he didn't need that kind of weakness, but Helena wasn't any man's weakness. God forbid someone tried to harm her, he'd scorch the earth if that happened, assuming she left something for him to destroy. She was perfect.

"I am not a thing that can be tamed, slaver."

He smiled in to her skin before pressing a kiss in her shoulder. "Good—neither am I."

She turned in his arms. Her expression was blank but that didn't stop him from knowing she was hesitant to accept what he was offering. He was just that arrogant to think she wouldn't refuse him.

"This night has been confounding," she said and her brow actually creased.

Henri nodded, her words rang true for him as well.

"My mother never knew the kind of man I became even though I'd already made a name for myself long before she died. She went to her grave proud of me, proud of the smart, successful man I grew up to be. If she'd only known what I'd really become right under her nose. That disappointment is the only regret I carry. Before yesterday Leontyne would have been one, but with Furious she has a chance to be the kind of woman her grandmother was. I can allow myself to feel something for the first time since my mother's death. I can build something I never allowed myself to dream of. I've gone after every single thing I ever wanted. This is no different. I won't look back on my life and think what if, not when I feel as if your very existence is for me."

It was impossible to imagine the pros and cons being weighed in her lovely head. He'd age and die. Was it fair to ask her to enter into a relationship with him?

Yes.

"You're leaving tomorrow. Just think about it."

His heart raced at the thought of pursuing her until she saw the light. He'd told her he would change for the love a good woman and he would. He'd been in the game for a long time and thought he'd die in it but with her by his side he could do something else—be someone else. A man his mother and grandfather would be proud of.

"I make no promises."

"Alright, I can work with that."

"You should get some sleep," she said untangling from his arms.

He looked out the window surprised to see the dawn of a new day outside. He climbed out of bed, too. He was going to spend every second he could with Helena. He was staying behind to find the person or people who tried to kidnap Leontyne; nothing would stop him, not even the woman he planned on having. She surprised him by taking his hand and leading them to his bathroom. He turned on the water in the shower and together they stepped under the shower head.

"I want you to witness all that I am."

Helena brought her hands up and a nail on her forefinger grew long and sharp. She pressed the delicate skin of her wrist until blood welled and then dragged the nail down her arm. Without thinking, he took her bleeding arm and pressed it to his lips. The slight blood he'd gotten when he bit her nipple had been like sticking his finger in a socket, this was a live-wire connected to him. Liquid energy filled his mouth and ran down his throat, filling his gut before spreading throughout his body making his limbs heavy. He held tight to her arm and took the blood she'd taken back in hard pulls. He raised his eyes and looked into the storm of hers. Her mouth was opened her breath coming out in pants. He could feel her body become hard beneath his lips. The raised design on her head slowly faded as her skin became stone.

### **-**

Henri brought Helena's hand up to his mouth and kissed the palm, rubbing it over his lips and chin. Helena watched with a bemused look on her face. Once drained of blood, Helena's body had become impenetrable but that didn't stop the shower from lasting too long. He turned her hand over, kissing the knuckles, running the cool skin over his face.

The car slowed as it drove through the security arm leading into the private airstrip where a jet waited to take his most prized possession away to parts unknown. He lowered Helena's hand and leaned forward to take her lips. The kiss was soft and slow, a branding for both, a reminder of what had happened and what could be.

"Thank you," Helena said, palming his cheek. "I will never forget the time we spent together."

"It's only the beginning," Henri reminded her.

"Perhaps—slaver."

The door opened and she stepped out of the car before he could reply. He slapped her ass hard enough to hurt himself, the palm of his hand stinging. The sound of her chuckle was worth the pain. There was no romantic good-bye once outside the car. Helena went to the plane and stood by the steps as Leontyne and Furious approached.

Leontyne walked right into his arms and for the second time in as many days he opened them and hugged his daughter. It felt good. No longer did he have to keep her at arm's length, afraid that physical touch would bring about a connection he refused himself. He held her tight, burying his nose in her neck and taking a deep breath. She smelled like honeysuckle. Had he ever noticed that before?

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered. Her voice sounded strained but she didn't cry. There was no crying in the Deveaux house.

"I love you too, my beautiful, strong, girl."

He released her and she backed away before turning, going to stand by Helena while the men-folk said their good-byes. He smiled at how well his daughter knew him.

"I don't care who or what you are—I'll find a way to kill your immortal ass if anything happens to my daughter," he said while smiling and shaking Furious' hand and meaning ever god damn word.

"If but a single hair on her head breaks and displeases her I will do the honor myself."

He looked over at the women, nearly identical in height but different in every other way, and somehow still matching. Eve Tillman had been a hustler and wouldn't have loved a dog, never mind a baby. He'd done the right thing taking his daughter; there was no question. Standing beside Helena he found himself wondering what their child would look like. Was that something that was even possible?

"Take care of her," Henri said.

"With my life," Furious answered.

He certainly meant his daughter, but it was Helena he was looking at. Furious joined the women and Helena raised a hand. He waved good-bye and kept waving when Leontyne waved too. The door closed and the stairs were rolled away before he turned to the car behind him.

The absence of Kyle was just another thing added to all the ways his life had been upended. The man had been a part of his life for so long it didn't seem right to go to battle without him, but he wasn't waiting for Kyle to heal. If he was lucky he'd find out who was behind the kidnapping and he and Kyle would be in France before the cast was off his arm, although he wouldn't be surprised if Kyle tried to stand beside him anyway. What was a broken arm, a couple of bruised ribs and a hip flexor strain to men like them?

### THE END

### For real this time.

### BY OLIVIA BARRINGTON-LEIGH

### THE ODIN SERIES

### The Sun Wolf

### The Evening Wolf

### The Red Wolf

### Short Stories Collection

### Berserker

### The Twins

### Luka

### LOVER SERIES

### Lovers

### A Lover's Touch

### Strong Lovers

### Friends and Lovers

### CHRYSALIS SERIES

### Chrysalis
