Hunt the Moon - Kari Cole

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Hunt the Moon By Kari Cole Who’d think to bring silver bullets to a wedding? When Isabelle “Izzy” Meyers arrives in Montana and discovers her human foster brother is marrying into the local werewolf pack, she wishes she’d brought an arsenal. Werewolves can’t be trusted, and Izzy should know...she is one. Luke Wyland never planned on becoming an Alpha. He’s still navigating how to protect the pack from the rogue threat that’s been hunting in his territory, claiming his father as one of their victims. Yet the moment Luke lays eyes on Izzy, something primal takes root. Finding a mate who wants nothing to do with him is a complication he doesn’t need, but letting Izzy go isn’t an option. After a childhood marred by shifter violence, Luke is everything Izzy was raised to hate. So then why does being with him feel so intensely right? With a thinning pack to defend, Luke knows what he has to do: embolden Izzy to unleash her true nature—or risk losing everything. One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise! This book is approximately 95,500 words

Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Mackenzie Walton

Dedication For Jake, Conor and Aidan, who always believed.

Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four Chapter Forty-Five Chapter Forty-Six Chapter Forty-Seven Chapter Forty-Eight Chapter Forty-Nine Chapter Fifty Chapter Fifty-One Chapter Fifty-Two Chapter Fifty-Three Chapter Fifty-Four Acknowledgments About the Author Coming Soon from Kari Cole

Chapter One Who would have thought being the Alpha of a pack of werewolves would involve so much paperwork? Luke Wyland glared at the stack of folders on the scuffed table in front of him. Dragging his hands through his short, dark hair, he rubbed the knot at the base of his skull, a gesture he remembered his father doing hundreds of times as he sat behind his desk, surrounded by piles of papers. Now Luke understood why. A truck rumbled into the lot outside the office of Townes Aviation. Almost as soon as the engine cut off, the door slammed shut with enough force to make Luke wonder if it’d ever open again. Footsteps stomped across the parking lot and down the hall. His cousin, Dean, barged into the conference room still wearing his deputy sheriff’s uniform and a scowl. Fifteen months ago, before four of their packmates—including Dean’s sister and Luke’s father—were murdered, that expression would have been uncharacteristic of the big male’s laid-back nature. Now it threatened to become a permanent fixture. Not bothering with a greeting, Dean stalked to the minifridge, grabbed a beer, and downed it in a few gulps. He grunted and pulled out another. “Bad day?” Luke asked. “We’ve got another missing person.” The hair on Luke’s nape rose like his beast’s hackles. “Who?” “A human. Eric Conroy.” “The county clerk? I just called him yesterday to get

some property transfer information.” “What time was that?” “About one o’clock,” Luke said. “He didn’t answer, though. I left a message.” “Well, Conroy’s wife called this morning when she woke up and realized the guy’d never come home last night. No one’s seen him since he left work yesterday.” Dean flung himself into a chair that creaked under his muscular bulk. “I’ve got a bad feeling. With everything that’s been going on...” Luke had a bad feeling, too. “That’s five missing now,” he said, not bothering to suppress a growl. Black Robe, Montana, wasn’t a big town, but the county held close to twenty thousand people. One missing person wouldn’t be that unusual. People got lost in the mountains. Cars went off roads. Sometimes people simply decided to get out of Dodge. But this was no ordinary county. Here they had a pack. And the pack could find anything in their territory. Yet they’d found no sign of the logger who went missing seven months ago. Or the two female hikers who vanished a month later. Or even the lifelong resident who sold all his land just after New Year’s Day and disappeared without a word to his three children. “Yeah.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “I think you should expect a call from the sheriff asking for the pack’s trackers if the guy doesn’t turn up by tomorrow.” Luke looked out the window. Shadows stretched across the tarmac. It’d be full dark in another hour. “Call them and have them ready to go at first light.” As his Beta—Luke’s second-in-command—the job fell to Dean. “No one searches alone. I mean it, Dean. Not even you.” If someone or something was hunting in their territory, he wouldn’t let his wolves be easy targets. Luke wanted to ask how things were going with the new

sheriff, but the click of high heels on linoleum drew his attention to the door. Beautiful in a fancy black suit, Rissa Townes strode into the tiny conference room of her family’s aviation company. The smile faded from her lips as she sniffed the air. “Why do you both smell so anxious?” “We’ve got another missing person,” Luke said, pushing away from the table and walking over to the bank of windows. “Seriously?” Rissa snatched the unopened beer out of his hand and sipped it while they filled her in. She paced the short length of the room, her scent growing bitter with worry and frustration. “Got to say, I hope the man is just off having an affair or something, and slinks home tonight.” “Yeah.” Not with their luck. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis and stared out the window. Machinery whined and clanked in the hangar kitty-corner from them. A mechanic in blue-gray coveralls crossed the patched and pitted tarmac. A long orange wind sock undulated in the breeze. “So, why are we meeting here?” Dean finally asked, sounding exhausted. He scowled at Luke’s papers. “Please, God, tell me we don’t have to read any more environmental impact statements. My eyes almost fell out last time.” “They’re not that bad,” Rissa said. “Yes, they really are.” Dean flicked the edge of a particularly thick file. “This is torture. And you’re a sadist for making me look at these damn things.” A slow grin spread across Rissa’s face. “Hmm...think I can make Freddie call me Mistress?” Dean made retching noises while Luke mentally filed that little tidbit away to torture Rissa’s mate with at an opportune time. It was only fair, since Freddie had made it his mission in life to irritate Luke. Damn human.

Luke leaned a hip against the windowsill. “Don’t worry, Dean. I’m done with paperwork for the day. Rissa’s waiting on Freddie. He flew down to Missoula to pick up his sister, and Ris is such a sap, she can’t stand to wait an extra twenty minutes for her mate to drive home.” “Hey!” Rissa said. Some of that unnatural tightness drained from Dean’s features. “Can’t be helped, darlin’. It’s the curse of the mated—no matter how long you’ve been together.” His grin spread into the full, satisfied smile it always did whenever he spoke about his mate, Sarah. He turned an assessing eye on Luke. “I can’t wait for you to find your mate. Then we’ll see who’s a sap.” Laughing, Rissa hiked herself up onto the wide window ledge. “Oh, that poor female, whoever she is. I hope she likes a bossy wolf in her business all day and night.” Luke scowled. “I am not bossy. I’m confident.” Rissa laughed harder, and Dean’s booming guffaws echoed in the small room. A lot of Alphas wouldn’t allow their subordinates to make jokes at their expense, but Dean and Rissa had been his closest friends since they were kids. Besides, levity had been in short supply lately. Plus, he wouldn’t mind having someone special to race home to every night, too. God, he was a sap already. The distant chop of a helicopter’s blades had Rissa jumping down from her perch on the windowsill and straightening her skirt. Then she smoothed her blouse and patted her hair. “Come on,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the door. Rissa, nervous? That was new. Luke sent a questioning look to his cousin. Dean shrugged as they followed in her wake.

“So, Ris,” Luke said. “Is Freddie’s sister really a combat pilot?” She didn’t look at him as she pushed through the door to the tarmac. “She flew a Blackhawk in Iraq. Just like Freddie.” “Army, right?” Rissa ignored him. As she walked toward the landing pad, her voice drifted back to them. “Goddess, please let her like me.” Luke’s eyebrows crept to his hairline. Dean shrugged again. “Meeting the in-laws is nervewracking business, even if it’s only a sister.” The sun was just beginning to set on a cold but beautiful day. Luke breathed in the scent of their territory: the clean bite of snow off the looming Cabinet Mountains, lodgepole pine, Rocky Mountain maple, and spruce. Home. The responsibility of caring for it and the people who lived here weighed on him. His father would tell him it’s what an Alpha does—he worries and comforts, manages and directs. And when that doesn’t work, he knocks heads. His father wouldn’t have rested until each one of the missing humans was accounted for. And Luke wouldn’t either. It was the least he could do to honor his dad. Grief pummeled him as he thought of his father and the others they’d lost. The memory of their torn and bloodied bodies, half-buried under the snow, tossed away like garbage, shredded him every day. Fury at his inability to find their murderers sent Luke’s blood racing. Within the confines of his body, his wolf snarled. We’ll avenge our dead, he told his wolf. And protect our territory and pack. No matter how long it took or what it cost them. ***

“Wow,” Izzy said in breathless wonder as the helicopter floated over another rugged, snow-covered peak that sparkled in the sun. The frozen surface of a lake shimmered like opals, its edges blurred by a snowy blanket. “Told ya. You should see that in the summer. It’s surrounded by wildflowers.” The headset’s mechanical hiss couldn’t hide the smug satisfaction in Freddie’s voice. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him staring at her. “What?” “Damn, it’s good to see you, Iz.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “You, too.” Freddie was so much more than simply another parentless kid who’d shared a foster home with her. In every way that mattered, he was her brother. “I can’t wait for you to meet Rissa,” he said. Butterflies kamikazed her stomach. What if she hated the woman he’d chosen to marry? Or worse, what if Rissa hated her? “Me, too,” she lied. A loud rumble, audible over the chop of the rotor, sounded in the cockpit. Eyes wide, she slapped a hand over her stomach as it cramped with hunger. What the hell? Less than an hour ago, she’d eaten enough for two Chicago Bears linemen. She should have a major food baby. But lately, no matter how much or how often she ate, she could not satisfy the bottomless pit of her appetite. And it was getting worse. Another growl erupted. “Whoa, you’re not gonna get sick or something, are you?” Wide-eyed, Freddie looked at her over the rim of his aviator sunglasses. “You can’t be hungry. That foo-foo burger was the size of your head.” She rolled her eyes at his teasing. “Tofu.” “Whatever. I don’t think you were meant to be a

vegetarian. You’re nothing but skin and bones. When I hugged you at the airport, I thought you’d managed to sneak a razor past security. Nope, just your hipbones. Seriously, Mom is gonna take one look at you and fly straight into mother hen mode.” “Umm...” Hell, he was right. Their foster mother, Abby, was a force of nature, a tidal wave that swamped people with her care. “Shit.” Freddie snorted. “No worries, we’ll fatten you up a bit before Mom and Dad get here. Rissa always makes a ton of food. There’ll be enough for everyone, even with your monster appetite.” Monster. Unease bubbled like acid in her empty belly. “Uh, how many people we talking here?” “Tonight, just a few. Our close friends, Rissa’s family. It’ll give you a chance to get to know everyone.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Hope you don’t mind. They want to meet you.” Sure. That was normal. Someone marries into your family, you meet theirs. Like average joes. Right? Too bad Izzy was anything but normal or average. Her stomach cramped again. Damn it. She would not let her bullshit ruin Freddie’s party. Besides, she never could deny him anything. She’d have to get over her stupid hysteria. Sucking in a long breath, she willed her stomach to shut the hell up. “Sounds like fun.” There, that almost sounded relaxed— enthused, even. “Liar,” her brother said. Guess she’d have to work on the happy-happy. “Sorry,” Freddie said. “I know you hate parties, but Rissa is like Mom when it comes to this kind of thing. She thinks any small get-together requires twenty people.” Yay, party time. She kept the sarcasm to herself when she

said, “It’s fine. So, when are Hank and Abby coming in?” It’d been almost a year since she’d seen their foster parents. “Friday afternoon.” “Okay. Listen, it’s really nice of you to invite me to stay with you,” she said. “But you’re getting married next weekend. You don’t want me hanging around all the time. Rissa must have a million things to do, and you know I’m no good at that girly stuff. I’ll be fine at a hotel.” He didn’t even look at her when he said, “Nope.” “Freddie—” “Nope. As in no, nada, ain’t happening. You agreed to be my best man. We have big plans to make for my bachelor party and almost no time. I expect serious debauchery here.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “You do realize I’m a girl, right?” He did a cartoon-worthy double take. “That’s what the guys said. Told ’em that was just a low-down, dirty lie. You’re one of us.” She waved a hand at her chest. “And the boobs are what?” He cringed as if in pain. “Lalalala. There are no boobs.” “Yeah? One is flying this aircraft right now.” They flew in companionable silence for a while, soaring through the open turquoise sky. Sunlight warmed the cockpit and painted the pristine snow with a golden glow. An eagle launched from the branches of a tall pine and swooped over a ragged cliff, to glide down into the valley below. Her muscles relaxed bit by bit as she imagined the bird’s freedom as her own. God, she loved flying. It was her only refuge, the one place where the memories and fears didn’t take over. Sometimes, on the ground, she lost the ability to breathe, panic seizing her lungs. She avoided crowds and sat with walls at her back so no one could sneak up on her. Sudden and inexplicable anger would pound through her veins,

make her want to rage at the world. Nightmares woke her every night. And, dear God, the hunger. That, more than anything else, terrified her. Because she knew what drove that constant craving— “We’re getting there,” Freddie said. Izzy jumped. “What?” He turned to look at her. She tried for nonchalance. “Hmm?” Freddie caught her gaze. “When was the last time you spoke to someone? A professional?” Please. Any shrink with an ounce of competency would lock her up. “Come on, Iz. Between our childhoods, the war... Bess... You need to talk about things.” Bess. Tears filled her eyes. Sighing, she leaned against the cool window. Her problems went way beyond PTSD or a dead sister. “It’s not that simple, Freddie.” She held up a hand before he could interject. “I’ll think about it. Okay?” “Yeah. All right.” He nodded at the cabins nestled among the trees. In the distance, more structures became visible. “Only a few more miles.” Freddie guided the glossy Bell toward the airfield. The helipad sat on the edge near two gray-sided hangars and a squat office building. As he adjusted their angle of descent over the postage-stamp airfield, a tall blonde in black darted out the office door and shielded her eyes from the dust whipped up by the rotor wash. “Ah. There’s my girl,” he said. Izzy had never heard that tone from him. The love and longing in his voice awed her and a mammoth wave of protectiveness rose inside. This woman better be worthy of her brother. The Bell touched down with a slight bump. Rissa waited twenty feet away as Freddie rushed through the shutdown

procedures. The draft from the rotors blew tendrils of hair around her delicate face. She waved, flicking a quick smile at Izzy. Izzy waved back, telling her territorial inner bitch to pipe down. She was going to make this perfect for Freddie. And her creepy appetite and special brand of crazy were not invited. Two large men stood near the office building watching them. One wore a cop’s uniform and looked like an NFL linebacker. The other had messy, short dark hair and a several-days-old beard that framed high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Heat rushed into her face as she noted how his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his blue buttondown shirt. A slap on the arm startled her out of her admiration. “Come on, Iz,” Freddie said. He hopped out of the Bell and swept Rissa into a passionate kiss. Blushing again, Izzy stepped onto the tarmac, right into the cold shock of winter in Montana. It felt good, crisp and fresh. It reminded her of home. Wind pushed at her back as she walked around the nose of the Bell. The dark-haired man stepped out of the shadows and her heart jackrabbited. She stumbled. But it wasn’t the cold breeze that nearly knocked her to her knees. The man was staring at her, and the weight of that gaze set off a new kind of fluttering in her belly. Cocking his head, he inhaled so deeply she could almost feel the air rushing toward him. His body shook as if straining against an immovable force. His eyes flashed greenish-gold in the light of the setting sun. A low growl sounded in the gathering dusk. The cop grabbed the dark-haired man by the arm and got snarled at for his trouble. The cop seemed surprised but didn’t let go. He hissed something Izzy couldn’t make out over the whoosh of blood in her head. Obviously, the man

didn’t care what the cop said, because he never took his hungry gaze off her. As she stared into those glinting eyes, another hot flush rushed over her skin, tingling like electricity. The man’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look mad. He looked like he wanted to eat her alive. She must have tipped over the edge into insanity, because her own hunger intensified, shifting into something primal, something sensual. Instead of running away from him, she wanted to run toward him, wanted— The shifting wind blew in her face, carrying a scent she’d hoped never to encounter again. Terror weakened her knees and sent icy pinpricks across her over-heated flesh. In Izzy’s mind, her grandmother’s voice shrieked, “They’re evil! Run, hide, fight.” Oh God. The beautiful, dark-haired man. He was one of them. The cop, too. Her already-primed muscles screamed at her to flee. But she couldn’t leave Freddie and Ris— Izzy’s gaze whipped to her brother. He stood a dozen feet away, holding Rissa’s hands. “No!” Izzy covered the distance without blinking. Grabbing Freddie, she pushed him behind her, and snapped out a kick that sent Rissa tumbling back six feet. Not far enough. Nowhere near far enough. Not when it came to these things. As she tried to wrestle Freddie toward the helo, a welldressed woman in her fifties burst from the office. Three men ran out of the hangars. Izzy whipped the knife from the sheath at the small of her back. Her whole life, she’d hidden from these creatures. Now they surrounded her. Werewolves.

Like Izzy.

Chapter Two Luke blinked at the six-inch knife clutched in the small, shaking hand of the female who must be Freddie’s foster sister. She moved fast—as only another lycanthrope could —kicking Rissa and pulling that blade. “Stop! Stay back!” she shouted in a voice filled with dominance. And damned if they all didn’t freeze and ease back. Even him. But it wasn’t because he felt compelled to obey. Sucker punched was more like it, by the sight and scent of something he hadn’t expected. Mine. His beast delivered the growling declaration in feeling more than words, but Luke got the message loud and clear. He tried to focus, but the female’s scent—sweet, almost spicy, like cinnamon sugar, and utterly intoxicating—filled his head and muddled his thoughts. Case in point: a stranger just assaulted one of his pack, and what did he want to do? Claim her. Mine. Within, his wolf paced a furious arc, bumping against the human confines of Luke’s body, trying to break free to take what it wanted. And Luke wanted to let it. He wanted to leap across the distance separating him from the small woman with the dark hair and pale skin and bury his face in her neck; wanted to roll around in that heady essence and see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled; wanted— “What the hell, Izzy?” Freddie’s voice hit Luke like a bucket of ice water to the face. Patience, Luke told his beast, as he clenched his fists against the flexing of claws. Nothing good could come

from letting a lust-mad werewolf out to play right now. The female—Izzy—grabbed Freddie by his shirt and shoved him behind her. Freddie pushed his sister’s hand away. “Rissa, are you all right?” Rissa eased to her feet in a move full of lithe grace. “I’m fine, babe.” The little female pointed the knife at Rissa, then at Luke and Dean. “Stay back.” Freddie scowled. “Seriously, Iz. What. The. Fuck.” Rissa’s hands came up in an appeasing way. Her expression radiated cool, but Luke smelled her fear and anger. The wind gusted, punching him in the gut with desire before the sharp note of terror within Izzy’s scent registered in his addled brain. His wolf demanded he gather the ashenfaced female close and shelter her from the world. His skin tightened until claws pricked at his fingertips, the instinct to protect her nearly overwhelming. Why the hell was she so scared? Izzy’s gaze darted between them. “There’s no time,” she told Freddie as she herded him toward the helicopter. “Trust me. Get in right now. We gotta go.” A haughty voice interrupted Freddie’s response. “What are you doing?” Luke restrained a groan. Rissa didn’t. “Mother.” Marianne Townes ignored her daughter and stalked toward the frightened little wolf. Her high heels clacked on the tarmac like gunfire. “How dare you!” It didn’t seem possible, but Izzy paled even further. Couldn’t blame her, really. Full-grown, dominant males cowered under Marianne’s withering stare. Freddie’s sister didn’t back down, though. Her chin came

up and she pointed her blade. “Don’t.” The restrained menace in the quiet command stopped even a ballbuster like Marianne Townes in her tracks. Damn, Luke liked that. “Quiet, Marianne.” He growled, silencing her protest, and earning a huff of indignation. Izzy’s wide, panic-filled eyes fixed on him. It was like a jab to the throat and his wolf whined in misery. He would do anything so this female never looked at him like that again. He held up his hands like Rissa had. “Sorry, Izzy— Isabelle. It is Isabelle, isn’t it?” Yeah, that fits her better. When she gave a cautious nod, he continued. “It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.” She snorted. “Right.” To Freddie, she said, “If you ever believed anything I said, you’ll trust me on this. We need to go, right now.” “What? Why? This is ridiculous. You’re holding a knife on my fiancée and her friends and family. They would never hurt me or you.” Freddie reached over her shoulder for the blade, and she nudged him back. “You don’t understand.” “Why don’t you explain it to us?” Luke said. He took a step toward the pair. Isabelle’s hand jerked as she gestured him back with the knife. “I won’t let you hurt him.” Marianne scoffed. “You’re the one with the knife. A silver knife.” Luke growled again, silencing the older woman. “Not helping.” Marianne might be a pain in the ass, but she was right. Now that he had a modicum of control, he smelled the silver in the blade, too. If he didn’t manage this right, someone could be seriously hurt. Lycanthropes could heal

almost any wound, except those inflicted by another of their kind. Or silver. Then they would heal human-slow—if at all. The fresh wave of fear pouring from Isabelle sickened him. Luke took another slow step toward her. “Listen, I understand some territories are hostile to strangers, but that isn’t the case here.” “Luke, what the hell are you talking about?” Freddie asked. “Has everyone gone nuts?” Rissa kept her voice calm as she said, “Freddie doesn’t know, does he, Izzy?” The glare Isabelle sent her way could have skinned a rabbit. Dean’s deep voice joined the fray. “Well, that ship’s sailed, sweetheart. No keeping it from him now.” He slid two steps closer to Rissa, surrendering his flanking position, a calculated risk meant to calm Isabelle by giving her a little less to worry about. Dean also waved back Marianne and the others hovering in the background. “Let’s all settle down.” Freddie’s back came up against the helicopter door and Isabelle finally let go of his shirt. He peered over her shoulder to look at her face. “Iz? What’s going on? What don’t I know?” “That she’s like us,” Rissa said. “Like you,” Freddie said slowly. Another time, Luke might have laughed at the expression on the human’s face as the light bulb clicked on for him. Fury distorted Isabelle’s delicate features. “I am nothing like you,” she snapped at Rissa. Shaking, she held her hand out to the man she’d grown up with. “I’ll explain everything later.” Freddie stumbled back. “What? Izzy, you can’t be. No, I would’ve known.”

Before she could reply, she gasped, hunching over like she’d taken a blow to the gut. Luke started forward, no longer able to withstand the need to go to her. When Dean’s arm snaked around his chest to hold him back, Luke nearly tore it off. “Freddie, please,” Isabelle said in a voice laced with pain. Luke groaned as his wolf thrashed against his shields. Dean sucked in a pained breath but held on. “I know, man. But wait. Wait.” A growl thundered in Luke’s head. His frustrated beast bared its teeth in a snarl, hunkering down on its belly. Ready. Waiting. A hunter through and through, it understood the importance of patience when stalking prey. Especially when that prey was its mate. *** “Freddie, please,” Izzy said, forcing the words past the lump of fear and regret clogging her throat. How the hell had they ended up here, surrounded by werewolves? Creatures Freddie seemed to not only know about, but care for. Hell, he’d just been kissing one. Bile rose in her throat. She wasn’t sure which was worse: the empty, clenching pain in her stomach, or being socked with her brother’s look of betrayal. There weren’t many options for escape in the tiny airport. It only had a few buildings they could use for cover. And there were too many werewolves to fight. Everything in her screamed at her to run, to get as far from these beasts as she could. But Freddie wanted to stay. She’d have to leave without him.

She shuddered. No. No freakin’ way. Not once had he abandoned her or Bess. Even when he should’ve. He’d taken beatings from all sorts of bullies in defense of the “Freaky Twins.” Izzy had already failed her sister. She’d be damned if she failed her brother, too. Straightening, she lowered the knife, and made a show of sliding it back into its sheath. She covered it with a sharp tug of her sweater before facing the hostile crowd. As soon as she did, the dark-haired were pushed off the cop’s arm. The descending sun cast one side of his face in gold, hiding the other in shadow. The irony of that dual image wasn’t lost on her, and she shivered in the frigid February air. The were walked toward her, slowly, as if afraid she might bolt. Too late for that. Freddie threw her a look filled with unpleasant promises as he raced to Rissa’s side. Izzy shook against the compulsion to stop him. Her lip curled at the sight of her brother’s hands on Rissa’s face and hers on his. “Wow. You really don’t like us.” The were stood in front of Izzy, close. So close she could feel the heat radiating off his body. She threw herself back against the side of the Bell, the stench of werewolf sending her already-racing heartbeat tripping in her chest. Her involuntary response seemed to upset him. “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.” Damn it. This was no time for a panic attack, but she felt one rising. Panting, she turned her face into the wind and tried to put a lid on it. Slow down. Slow breaths. With each exhalation, her heart rate steadied a little more. Another note in the scent, stronger than the wolf, caught

her attention and quelled the maddening alarm. She sniffed. Caught it again. Like sunbaked stone and grass. Nice. Instinctively, she started to lean toward the man before she remembered he wasn’t a man at all. “No,” she whispered. Her grandmother’s shrill voice filled her head. “You must never let them find you. You’d be better off dead.” The werewolf towered over her. Dark green eyes flashed with gold as he growled low in his throat. She flattened herself against the helicopter, looking for a way out. There must be— “Get the hell away from her!” Freddie shouted, spinning the werewolf back and stepping between them. The creature growled again, loud enough that it rumbled through her chest. Her knees quaked, but she couldn’t let Freddie fight this thing. It would break him into bloody bits without even trying. When she moved to intervene, her brother pushed her behind his back. He didn’t even flinch when the werewolf bared its bright white teeth. “Back the hell off, Luke. You’re scaring her.” The were winced like Freddie had slapped him. Taking a step back, Luke raked his hands through his hair, tugging at the dark strands. “Sorry. She’s upset. My wolf—” He shook his head, looking miserable. “I couldn’t stand it.” Izzy’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Rissa said. “Really, Luke? Really?” The werewolf—Luke—leaned to the side to peer at Izzy since she was still mostly hidden behind Freddie. Refusing to cower, she stepped up next to her brother. Luke stared at her, appearing...dazed. His eyes glassy, he nodded. A hot shiver zipped through Izzy, raising goose bumps all over her body. Confusion and revulsion warred with a shocking sense of longing so profound tears welled in her

eyes. Rissa swore. “What now?” Freddie asked. The big cop strode up next to Luke. “It’s not like he can help it, Ris. You know that.” Freddie huffed in exasperation. “What are—” His eyes popped wide. He turned to look at Izzy then back to Luke. “Oh, hell no, man.” Jaw clenched, he pointed a finger at Luke. “No.” When Luke’s eyes narrowed on her brother, Izzy said, “I don’t want any trouble.” She ignored the indignant snort from Rissa. “I—” But she had no idea what to say now. No idea why her brother and Luke were glaring at each other, only that a battle between them would end with Freddie in pieces. Since Freddie obviously had no intention of getting back into the helicopter and leaving, and she wouldn’t leave without him, she needed to get the lay of the land and deescalate the situation. Fast. “Freddie, do you really know what they are?” she asked. He nodded, stealing the air from her lungs. “Werewolves. Shifters. Lycanthropes. Yeah, Rissa told me when we got together. I’ve known since before I moved out here to be with her.” He bent over to look Izzy directly in the eyes. “The question is, how come I didn’t know the same about you?” Guilt made her look away while her mind raced with questions, strategies, and contingencies. Freddie didn’t understand. Packs were violent—fighting among themselves for position and dominance, attacking interlopers. They must be hiding things from him. Though that didn’t feel right. Her brother was no fool. Before being placed with Hank and Abby, he’d been homeless for a while. He had street smarts to spare. It was almost impossible to

hide anything from him. She knew that better than anyone. Izzy fought the renewed sense of danger that teased her flight response. She’d survived the death of her parents, her grandmother, the foster care system, combat in Iraq, and worst of all, the loss of her sister. No more running. No more cowering. She’d rather fight. Squaring her shoulders, she faced the three werewolves. She may be small and outnumbered, but she could be a real bitch—just ask some of the soldiers who’d served under her. “I’m not leaving without my brother. As long as he stays, you’re stuck with me, too.” Rissa glared daggers and Izzy knew there’d be a reckoning between them. The big cop observed her with cool eyes that seemed amused. Luke, though...his response knocked the aggressive bite right out of her and sent her heart racing again. Glowing, gold eyes drifted slowly over her body. Then he grinned, a wide, toothy expression. “Perfect.”

Chapter Three From the ground, this part of Montana was as pretty as it’d been from the air. Winding country roads lined by snowdusted evergreens and spindly lodgepole pines were set against the backdrop of the Cabinet Mountains. It was like stepping into an Ansel Adams photograph. Despite the beauty, the ride in Freddie’s Ford Explorer was one of the worst trips Izzy had ever experienced. An impressive feat considering she’d ridden in cramped armored vehicles through a war zone. Somehow the threat of IEDs and insurgents meant nothing compared to Rissa’s ice-blue gaze. It bore down on Izzy like a steel spike. “Freaking jackass,” Freddie said out of the blue. “Who?” Rissa asked. “Luke. If he thinks—” He made a disgusted sound. Terrified for her brother, Izzy stared at Rissa. How could he be so nonchalant about insulting one of her pack? “Hmph,” Rissa said. She reached across the seat. It was like that moment in a horror film right before something gruesome happens. You know it’s coming. Sometimes you even scream at the screen, begging the hero to watch out! But, of course, he doesn’t. And you have to helplessly sit back, peeking through your fingers, while the Big Bad dismembers him. Well, Izzy refused to play morbid observer. In a flash, her fingers were around her knife handle. As she started to jerk it free of its sheath, Rissa stroked Freddie’s arm and slid her fingers into the hair at his nape. He plucked Rissa’s hand off his shoulder and kissed her fingers. She blew him one in return. Reflected in the rearview mirror, a sweet smile lit his

face. Izzy blinked, stunned. Freddie wasn’t afraid. Not even a little bit. It was absurd, incomprehensible. If he knew better, he’d be terrified. She rubbed her throbbing temples, trying to make sense of the situation. It felt like trying to stand in a canoe in choppy water. She’d just catch her balance when another set of waves would come along and knock her down. “I can’t believe this,” Freddie said. “I heard the words. They were in English and everything, but I don’t understand.” Twisting in his seat, he threw a glance at Izzy over his shoulder. “How could you have kept this from me for all these years, Iz?” The hurt in his voice tormented her. “How could we have told you?” He made a sound of disgust. They turned onto an unpaved road. The Explorer bounced along the deep ruts and bumps of packed snow. Combined with the unavoidable scent of werewolf, the rough ride sent her empty stomach roiling. Sweat trickled down her spine and her skin itched like ants were crawling all over her. She had the insane desire to throw open the door and leap out. Broken bones and road rash had to be better than being stuck in the too-hot SUV. “Are you all right?” Rissa asked her. Hell no. “Hot, ’s all.” Izzy stabbed at the window controls and cold air rushed into the Explorer, blowing right in her face. “Izzy, it’s freezing out there. What are you doing?” Freddie’s voice sounded very far away. “Feels good,” she said. Boy, did it ever. “Been cooped up all day. The air’s so clean here.” It smelled like snow and pine and cooled her fevered skin. After a minute, the horrible prickling sensation abated. She sat back in the seat,

sighing in relief. “Better?” Rissa asked, a strange look on her face. Izzy would have flipped her off, but she decided to take the high road. For Freddie’s sake. “Yup.” Freddie began powering up the window. “No, baby. Leave it open,” Rissa said. “As long as Izzy wants.” The understanding in the other woman’s eyes unnerved Izzy. She squirmed again. Freddie watched her in the rearview mirror. “Since when are you claustrophobic?” “I’m not.” “Riiiiiight,” he said. Rissa touched Freddie’s arm and shook her head. She glanced at Izzy, then averted her eyes. Weird. “When was the last time you were around other lycanthropes?” Rissa asked. “I don’t know. There was this guy in DC about six months ago. A cat of some kind, I think. He smelled kind of sharp, you know?” Rissa nodded. “How long did you talk with him?” “I didn’t talk to him.” Was she nuts? “I caught a whiff of him in a crowd and hopped into the first cab I saw.” “Why?” “Why?” Izzy couldn’t keep the derision out of her voice. Why the hell would she stick around for a conversation with a predator? “Ah.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rissa didn’t answer as they turned off the bumpy road onto a long gravel drive. Izzy didn’t know what the other woman was getting at and she didn’t care. Her stomach hurt. Exhaustion burned her eyes and the bitter cold was making her face numb. Still, she didn’t close the window. Just the thought made her skin crawl again. The driveway ended in front of a two-story example of

modern, energy-efficient architecture, placed just so among the soaring trees. Darkness had fallen while they drove and golden light poured from walls made mostly of glass, illuminating a large porch and snow-covered grounds. Izzy saw at least a half-dozen individuals moving about inside. “Ah, Christ. Are we still doing this, Ris?” Freddie asked. Several cars and trucks were parked around the curving drive. As Freddie pulled the SUV to a stop, another came down the drive behind them. “Well, I didn’t exactly get a chance to call them off,” Rissa said, waving at a group of boys and girls running through the yard, pelting each other with snowballs. “Though I’m sure my mother has given them all an earful by now.” “Shit.” Freddie jerked, powering up Izzy’s window the instant before a barrage of frozen missiles splattered the driver’s-side glass. Kids tore off around the side of the house, laughing maniacally. He banged his head against the headrest and whined, “Ris.” “Sorry,” Rissa said, her lips twitching. “They only do it because they like you.” “Yeah, like a gunner likes a target,” Izzy said. Rissa snorted, and did a poor job of smothering a laugh. Freddie glared at her as she opened her door and slid out. “I’d better go and clear the way.” She gestured toward the small crowd trickling out onto the covered porch. Another vehicle approached the house, its headlights shining on the crowd. The human-looking weres’ eyes gleamed unnaturally in the bright lights, like the animals inside them. Werewolves. Izzy’s chest constricted. Pinching the bridge of his nose, her brother turned

toward the back of the SUV. “Look, I told you we invited some people over. I know this is not going like we planned, but—” “Those aren’t people,” she said, her voice a hard slash. Freddie pinned her with a ferocious look. “The hell they’re not. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this is my home.” He pointed at the house as a woman in a bright red parka jogged up the porch steps, carrying a foilcovered dish. “Rissa’s home. Those people are Rissa’s family. Every one of them is here to meet you, because you’re my family. And whether you like it or not, they’ve made me a part of theirs. So no more knives or martial arts displays.” “You don’t—” He pointed at her. “I mean it, Iz.” A sudden realization made her gasp. “You’re already mated.” “Yeah,” he said, that damned sweet smile spreading across his face again. Hopelessness sank into her stomach like grease. “There’s no getting out for you now,” she whispered. “She’ll never let you go.” “God, I hope not.” Izzy shook her head and looked at the light-filled house. Weres walked back and forth past the windows, three small children rushed up the steps, squealing and stomping booted feet. By all appearances it seemed like any other home. Full of...people. Smoke drifted from the chimney. Laughter and voices flowed out the door. It reminded her of the house they’d lived in with the Dodds in Chicago. Sure, the design and neighborhood were different, but everything else spoke of comfort and happiness.

“Filthy beasts.” Her grandmother’s rasping voice rang in her head again. Instinctively, Izzy hunched, waiting for a blow until, in a whiplash of emotion, anger replaced fear. For a moment, she wished the old bitch were still alive. Seeing her grandmother’s face as partying werewolves surrounded them would almost make this whole nightmare worth it. Squaring her shoulders, she met Freddie’s gaze. “Okay.” “Swear?” He held up a fist—his version of an olive branch. Her panic eased a bit more. “Yeah. I swear. I’ll behave.” If they do. She bumped her fist against his, then shook his hand. The gesture was one that had sealed every deal of their teen years. They opened their doors. As the pervasive smell of werewolf smacked her in the face, she prayed she could keep her promise. *** Watching Isabelle drive away without him was one of the hardest things Luke had ever done. His muscles vibrated, ready to spring into action and give chase. But no matter how unhappy it made him and his wolf, his instincts told him to give her space. “You know you’re growling, don’t ya?” He shot Dean a look that would have caused most wolves to tuck their tails and hide behind their mommies. But Dean only laughed. “Do you know it’s a good thing you’re on the other side of this truck right now?” Dean shrugged and braced his arms on the roof of Luke’s pickup truck. “Gotta say, I’m pretty impressed you let your mate ride off like that.” Luke bared his teeth.

Hands up, Dean got into the passenger seat of Luke’s F150. “Fine, but you’re ruining the impression you know what you’re doing, man.” Looking to the heavens, Luke counted and prayed for the strength to not kill his cousin. When he reached ten, he paused. Nope. He still wanted to throttle the big idiot. Sighing, he opened the driver’s door and slid in. “Uh, why are you here? You have your own truck, remember?” “Thought I should keep you company. Wouldn’t do for the Alpha to get pulled over for speeding or run hapless civilians off the roads.” Luke rolled his eyes and started the engine. “I’m fine.” “Ha!” His wolf clawed at his inner shields, desperate to take form in reality. Luke sucked several deep breaths. If he didn’t get a grip, he’d drive them into the light post. “Okay. You’re right. I’m not fine. Happy?” Dean sighed. “No. I get it. You know I suspected Sarah was my mate when we were kids, but when we hit maturity...” He shook his head. “There was no holding back. I couldn’t do what you’re doing right now.” “What am I doing, precisely? Because I sure as hell don’t know.” “The right thing. Because that was some howdy-do back there, huh?” That was an understatement. Luke scrubbed his hand through his hair. The scent of Isabelle’s terror still burned in his nose. He didn’t understand why she was so afraid of them, but he damn well would find out, and take care of it. Then he’d take care of her. The certainty that Isabelle would be theirs calmed his agitated wolf and let Luke breathe easier. Until that moment, he hadn’t noticed the tight band of worry

constricting his lungs. “Is it always like this?” he asked, tapping his chest. “The...concern, the—” “Mind-boggling, gut-wrenching, ungodly torture of consternation, fear, and dread?” Luke goggled at his cousin. “Nah, man. Don’t worry,” Dean said, backhanding Luke’s arm. “That’s now. It’ll get better. Maybe. I think. Tell you what, I’ll let you know when it happens for me.” Luke sucked in a long breath. “Shit.” “Pretty much.” “How do you stand it?” Dean shrugged. “Honestly, you get used to it. It just becomes part of you. It’s why we’re such possessive Neanderthals.” He grinned. “Or at least that’s what Sarah says.” “Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?” Dean laughed. “Because it’s not something you could understand until you experience it. Don’t worry. Once you claim her, it’ll even out. You won’t feel like tearing apart every single, solitary thing between you and your mate. Much.” This was a disaster. “You saw how Isabelle reacted to being dropped into the middle of a pack of werewolves.” “Freaked right the hell out.” “Exactly.” “But she didn’t run.” That stopped Luke’s bolting thoughts. “What?” “That little female was so scared it poured out of her like a flood. I nearly choked on it. Did she scream like a baby? Did she hightail it outta there? Nope. Your mate dropkicked one of the meanest fighters I’ve ever seen and threw herself between her family and what she obviously saw as hell itself.” Dean blew out a breath in clear appreciation.

“She stuck around. She’s a fighter.” As Luke turned onto the long, unpaved road leading onto Rissa and Freddie’s property, he thought about what Dean said, and smiled. “Yeah. She is.” Dean nodded. “Good thing, too. ’Cause the way things have been going around here, she’s gonna need to be.”

Chapter Four The expansive foyer of Freddie and Rissa’s house was like the entryway to hell. High ceilings, pale blue walls, and shelves decorated with pictures from both their lives couldn’t make up for the crowd of werewolves filling the space. They stared at Izzy, their eyes shining with a gold light that revealed their inner beasts, and her pulse rocketed into the stratosphere. Most of the weres seemed curious. A few, however, looked at Izzy with distaste, as if she might foul the carpets if allowed to pass. One was the stylish, older blonde from the airfield. Izzy remembered Rissa calling her Mother. Great. “Um,” Freddie said. Rissa rolled her eyes and flashed a bright smile that even Izzy recognized as forced. “You’d think no one new ever came to town. Give the woman a minute to get in the door.” When no one moved, Freddie cleared his throat. “So, this is my sister, Izzy. Iz, this is...well, not everyone. Thank God. But don’t be surprised if the rest of ’em show up.” A man with a graying goatee snorted and one or two others chuckled lightly. Izzy’s skin crawled as a walking, talking, life-sized Barbie doll stepped forward and cocked her head in a very canine gesture. “She’s a wolf.” “Apparently,” Freddie said. Everyone continued to stare at Izzy. Even though she’d avoided lycanthropes her whole life, she recognized a challenge when she saw one. The military, foster care system, high school, pack—it was all the same. You back

down, you get eaten for lunch—maybe literally here. She was no one’s meal. And she wasn’t a bug in a jar for them to inspect, either. Standing tall, Izzy stared down the assembled weres. She quirked a brow at Rissa’s glaring mother as if to say, Bring it on, bitch. The meaning wasn’t lost on anyone. More than one were sucked in a breath and looked away. “Oh, boy,” someone whispered. Freddie sighed. Hey, he should be happy. She hadn’t hit or stabbed anyone. Yet. Rissa cleared her throat and gestured to the older woman. “Izzy, this is my mother, Marianne Townes. Mother—” “Clarissa, are you going to introduce this—this female as if nothing happened?” Marianne snapped. “I can’t believe Luke even allowed her to stay in the territory. She threatened you with a silver blade!” Gasps echoed through the hall. “Mother—” Marianne jabbed her finger toward Rissa’s chest. “Look at your blouse.” An Izzy-sized footprint marred the pale silk. “There’s grease on your skirt. You’ll never get the stains out. And your suit is torn.” She wheeled on Izzy. “What is wrong with you?” “Lots of things.” Izzy’s tone could have frozen Lake Michigan in July. One precisely plucked eyebrow rose. “I’m sure that’s true.” “Mother!” A petite young woman with big brown eyes and shining red hair stepped in front of Izzy. A tinkling laugh fell from her mouth like jewels. “Hi. I’m Daphne, Rissa’s sister. Please forgive my mother. She’s a bit overprotective.” An exaggerated pout turned already

youthful features into those of a charming child. “Freddie, sweetie, for as much as you talk about Izzy, you could have mentioned she was a werewolf, too. You’ve been holding out on us.” Freddie stammered and Rissa’s sister laughed again. She gestured to a wiry were who had been at the airfield. Lean and muscular with luminous gray eyes, he reminded Izzy of a feral cat, though his scent gave him away as a wolf. He wrapped an arm around Daphne’s waist and nodded. A slow grin, showcasing too many teeth, spread across his lean face. “This is my mate, Rick,” Daphne said. Rick grabbed Izzy’s hand before she could avoid the touch. Her free hand twitched as she fought the instinct to grab her knife. His smile widened. The front door opened behind her, letting in a swirl of cold, and Rick dropped her hand like a hot potato. Izzy didn’t need to look to know who stood behind her. Every inch of skin on her body rippled with awareness. Despite the fact that more than a dozen weres were in the hallway, Izzy turned her back on them. Every instinct screamed at her that the new arrival was the most dangerous creature in a house full of predators. Luke seemed even bigger than before as he loomed over her, glowering at the werewolves who milled in the hall. Once again, he stood so close, the heat radiating from his body warmed hers. She gulped and he looked down at her. His expression softened, and a tingling sensation swirled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. The flush that followed burned her ears. The corner of Luke’s mouth quirked up and he raised a hand as if to touch her face. Behind him, the cop stepped inside the open door and Luke dropped his hand. The cop scanned the crowded hall with shrewd green eyes that looked remarkably like Luke’s. Closing the door, he nodded

to her and assumed a place to Luke’s right. Someone cleared their throat, and Luke’s gaze shot back to the crowd. “Move,” he said, his voice quiet. Clothing rustled and hurried footsteps sounded as most of the crowd hustled down the hall. The Barbie whined, “Luke—” A low growl raised the hair on Izzy’s neck, and she froze along with the others who had remained in the foyer. Barbie’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Come on, Tanya,” Rissa’s sister hissed to the Barbie as she tugged her down the hall. “Dean, Rissa, Freddie,” Luke said. He jerked his head to the left, indicating a glass-enclosed office. A hand of steel clasped Izzy’s arm when she tried to walk away. “Not you, sugar,” Luke said. She stiffened at both the tone and the endearment. A tug got her nowhere. She glared at him. He frowned but said nothing. Four others had resisted Luke’s initial demand: Rissa’s mother; a beautiful woman with silver and brown hair; a tall, blond man with ice-blue eyes; and the man with the goatee. Goatee’s brown eyes danced as he looked between Izzy and Luke. “Hello, dear,” he said with a silky drawl. Luke’s chest rumbled with that low growl again. The man continued smiling. “How very interesting.” Huh? Before she could ask what that meant, the man held out a bent arm to Marianne. After one more scowl for Izzy, Rissa’s mother tossed her head of blond curls, took the proffered arm, and strode down the hall like a queen at court. The blond man nodded to Luke—“Alpha”—then to Izzy before turning and following the others. Alpha? Of course. She peered up at Luke through her

lashes. His shadowed jaw worked as he stared after the retreating weres. Irritation rolled off him in waves. “Well, that went better than expected,” Freddie said, earning a swat on the arm from his fiancée. “Ow,” he said half-heartedly as he followed Rissa and the chuckling cop into the office. The remaining woman walked over to Luke—which in Izzy’s opinion made her freaking insane—and, stretching to tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek. Luke’s posture relaxed and he returned the gesture. “Hi, Mom.” “Darling.” She gave Izzy a curious look and smiled. “Hello. I’m Lena. I’d love to chat, but going by the expression on my son’s face, I think it’ll have to wait a bit.” She gave Luke a pointed look. “Be nice.” Lena started down the hall, laughing softly. Break Luke’s hold on your arm. Come on, Iz. You know how to. But like a big dummy, she simply stood there staring at him. His grip slid from her forearm down to her bare wrist, and heat spread up her arm, burning away the last of the drive’s chill from her body. He watched her with open interest. Instead of scaring her, his attention shot swirling electricity low down into her abdomen. She’d chalk it up to her incessant hunger, but that would be a lie. What the hell? He was a werewolf—and the pack’s freaking Alpha. She should get as far away from him as possible, but a perverse desire to stay and test her bizarre reactions trumped her apprehensions. She shook her head. When had she become so self-destructive? “You can let go of me now,” she said. He looked down to where his thumb stroked over the pulse in her wrist, back and forth. A hot shiver raced up her spine. “Don’t want to,” he said. Izzy blinked.

“You look like a runner.” *** “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to chase you,” Luke murmured in Isabelle’s ear. When she gasped, he fought the grin threatening to break out on his face. He placed his free hand on the small of her back and pushed her toward the office. “But right now we have a lot to discuss. Playtime will have to wait.” He liked the way her pulse jumped then raced as he whispered to her. And the way her scent ripened. It reminded him of fresh-baked cookies. He really liked cookies. Only a few hours ago, he’d been jealous of Dean and Rissa’s relationships with their mates, wondering if he would ever find his. Since the day he’d displayed Alpha tendencies, a long line of exquisite females had been shoved in his face. The pack held out hope a bond might develop with someone he already knew—it happened sometimes. Yet Luke had always known he hadn’t met his mate. Until now. Here she stood, smelling sweet and delicious. The instinct to toss her over his shoulder and bring her to his cabin to claim her nearly overwhelmed his judgment. Blood pounded in his veins and his pants became impossibly tighter. He longed to run his nose along the column of her throat, lap at the soft spot behind her ear. Instead, he contented himself by leaning closer to her dark brown hair and drawing in her scent. He frowned. Something lingered just beneath her cinnamon sugar essence...a sour note marring the sweet. He pulled back to study her. Christ, she’s thin.

Of course he’d noticed how petite she seemed in comparison to him—and now that he thought about it, in comparison to the other females in the pack, too. About five and a half feet tall, she looked smaller somehow. Now he realized why. She was all sinew. Sharp bones cut her pale cheeks like blades, the tendons in her neck severely defined. Her wrist bones pressed against the skin, stark and hard. He rubbed his thumb over the joint again, feeling the fragility. His wolf whined and a thread of worry snaked through his gut. “Luke!” Freddie shouted. “I want to talk to my sister. You think you could let go of her for a minute?” Luke bristled at the interruption. Rationally, he understood the human’s reaction. But it wasn’t smart to come between a werewolf and his unclaimed mate, especially a sick one. He bared his teeth. Isabelle twisted her arm again, trying to break his hold. Neither he nor his wolf liked that at all. Swallowing a snarl, he drew her over to an armchair. His mate needed to rest. Dark smudges marred the skin beneath her whiskey-gold eyes. “Sit,” he commanded. Her eyes narrowed and her pretty pink mouth molded into a sneer. He must sound like a demanding asshole. “Please,” he said, holding out his hand to help her sit. Isabelle raised a brow at his outstretched hand, and then promptly ignored it. She plopped into the chair, rested a booted foot across a knee, and gave him the kind of look that must have made enlisted men question their career choice. He hid a smile behind his hand as he rubbed his jaw. Dean snorted. He sat on the couch, kitty-corner from Isabelle, long arms resting along the back. The jackass didn’t even bother trying to conceal his amusement. Rissa’s mate made a disgusted sound, and Luke heard the man’s teeth grinding.

“Freddie,” Rissa said in a cautionary tone. “What?” he asked, his voice hard. “I’m not supposed to be upset by this?” He flung his hand at Luke and Isabelle. Before Luke could tell Freddie to go to hell—politely, of course; he was trying to be nice, after all—Isabelle popped to her feet. “I’m sorry, Fred,” she said. “I—I don’t even know where to start.” Wait, what? Did she think her brother was just upset about not knowing she was a lycanthrope? Didn’t she realize they were mates? How could she not have connected the dots yet? “We couldn’t tell you,” she said, looking stricken. We? “Wait. Who’s we?” Dean asked. Anger flashed in her eyes. “Who the hell are you, cop?” The title erupted like a curse. Then she rounded on Luke. “And you?” Running his hand through his hair, he called himself all kinds of stupid. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t introduced himself to his mate yet. Hell, he hadn’t even offered to take her coat. “Hell, sugar. I’m sorry. There’s no excuse.” He held his hand out to her again, hoping she’d take it this time. “I’m Luke Wyland, the Alpha of this pack.” “Of course you are,” she said, with a sour twist to her lips. A tense moment passed before Isabelle reached out to shake his hand. Her eyes widened when a flash of heat jumped between them. She let go as if burned. Luke certainly was. Her touch branded him all the way to his marrow. Clearing his throat, he tried to regain his composure. “Um.” He pointed to his cousin. “This is our Beta, Dean

Simmons. And, well, you’ve met Rissa.” He couldn’t read the look that passed between the females. But the absence of the animosity displayed at the airfield surprised him. He’d never seen Rissa let a challenge go unanswered. Certainly not one as blatant as the one delivered on the tarmac. What had gone on during the ride here? “Rissa is the pack’s Alpha female. The Luna,” Freddie said, pride ringing in his voice. Isabelle sucked in a breath, her gaze hopping to Luke. Confusion creased her brow and hurt flashed in her eyes. Luke hurried to explain. “Rissa and I are friends. Not lovers. She’s my partner, yes, but she and your brother are true mates,” he said, tracing Isabelle’s face with his gaze instead of his fingers, like he wanted. “No one in this pack would disrespect that.” Freddie laughed. “And if they did, Ris would rip their face off.” Isabelle’s eyes widened. “I hope you mean that metaphorically.” Glad when no one corrected her, Luke cleared his throat and tried to channel the gentleman his mother wished she’d raised. “Here, let me take your coat.” Without waiting for a response, he helped his mate shrug out of the heavy leather jacket. When his fingers brushed her nape, she shivered. Satisfaction at her response thrummed through him like a tuning fork ringing true. His palm tingled, and he ached to rest it on the back of her neck, declare to everyone that she belonged to him. The gray sweater she wore hung loosely around her frame. A thick brown belt, cinched at the second-to-last notch, held up navy jeans that bagged in the front and rear. Despite the excess fabric, the clothes couldn’t hide how painfully skinny Isabelle was. Luke winced. She wasn’t merely small-boned or slight.

Hell, she wasn’t even just thin. His mate was emaciated. He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Rissa’s eyes widened in alarm and Dean bolted upright out of his negligent slouch. A troubled look crossed his face, and Luke knew Dean had caught the sour undercurrents to her sweet natural fragrance, too. Dear goddess. Luke started moving for the door to call in Dean’s mate, Sarah, their healer. “Jesus, Izzy,” Freddie said with a respectable growl. “When was the last time you ate a decent meal?” The bitter change in her scent declared the flush that spread up her neck to her hairline was due to anger rather than embarrassment. “What? Don’t you remember the burger the size of my head?” “Apparently that’s been the only thing you’ve eaten for a long time.” Isabelle’s eyes narrowed on the human stalking toward her. When Freddie grabbed her arm, Luke launched into action. He smacked Freddie in the chest, sending him flying over the coffee table onto the couch. Rissa and Isabelle both shouted. But while Rissa jumped to her mate’s side, Isabelle spun and clocked Luke with an uppercut to the jaw that knocked him into the desk, nearly upending it. A laptop and lamp clattered to the floor. Glass shattered. When he straightened, wincing at the pain in his face and the backs of his thighs, he found Isabelle crouched between him and the couch, her nostrils flared, fists clenched, and liquid gold bleeding into her eyes. Goddamn, she was beautiful. A fighter, just like Dean said. Desire, thick as honey, warmed him. As Luke flexed his jaw, a loud snort cut through the tense silence. It devolved into rollicking, gut-busting laughter.

Freddie lay sprawled across the couch, almost in Dean’s lap, hooting and gasping for breath. Dean, too, roared with laughter. Isabelle blinked, and much to Luke’s disappointment, the wolf began to fade from her eyes. The door opened, showing Sarah and his mother. Several other packmates peered into the office through the glass wall beside them. “Hi, honey,” Dean gasped, sobering. Sarah appraised the situation with a cool eye. “Anything need healing?” “Just Luke’s pride,” Freddie said, before he and Dean erupted into laughter again. “Again?” Everyone’s a comedian.

Chapter Five After shooing the last of the pack out the door, Luke walked into the kitchen. Isabelle tracked his every move. He’d like to think it was because she felt the connection between them, but the way she pressed her back to the wall and kept everyone in her sight told a different story. What had happened to her to put that wary look in her eye? Slowly, as if approaching a skittish horse, he stepped in front of her. Isabelle tensed even more, like she expected a blow. Ignoring his beast’s whine of distress, Luke said to her, “Come on, sugar. Let’s sit down.” She flicked her eyes toward the enormous island in the center of the kitchen, where Freddie was filling a plate with food. With a stiff nod, she slid away from the wall. When Luke placed a hand on her lower back, she tried to edge away, and failed. Putting space between them was out of the question. Not now. Maybe not ever again. Isabelle stopped dead and scowled at him. He looked down into her golden-brown eyes and felt a shiver run through her. He couldn’t repress a feral grin. And when she blushed, he could no more stop his hand from caressing her cheek as the moon from rising in the night sky. The obnoxious clearing of a throat made her flinch and look away, the pretty pink flush turning crimson. Luke glared at Freddie. The little shit had the audacity to scowl right back. “Boys,” Sarah said. “Play nice.” “Good luck with that, baby,” Dean said, as he set a full

plate in front of his mate. Luke led Isabelle to a stool at the end of the island, next to Sarah. The healer leaned closer and surreptitiously sniffed. Not even the knowledge that Sarah was subtly examining his mate for the source of the unhealthy bitterness in her scent could assuage his wolf. It paced in agitation, demanding to be let out. It didn’t care that there was no foe here to fight, or that it had no healing abilities. Patience, Luke told it. The wolf snorted and continued pacing. Waiting passively for Sarah’s verdict was beyond Luke’s ability, so he grabbed a plate and began filling it with the best of everything the aborted party had to offer: a thick slice of his mother’s beef and sausage lasagna, cut into a precise, cheesy square; a large spoonful of Sarah’s broccoli and orzo casserole, from the corner where it was browned and crispy; three slices of the rarest, most perfect roast beef, which he covered in steaming gravy; and one of Liz Crandall’s double-stuffed baked potatoes. He considered the bowl of buttered green beans, but the plate was already in danger of overflowing. Next, he filled a glass with cold milk from the refrigerator. He set the plate and milk in front of Isabelle with a set of utensils wrapped in a paper napkin. He unrolled the napkin and set it next to the plate, placing the fork and knife in the proper places. Well, at least not all of his mother’s lessons had gone in one ear and out the other. Freddie huffed and rolled his eyes. “She won’t eat that.” He pulled back the plate Luke had prepared and shoved a tray of veggies and dip in front of Isabelle. Pointing at her, he said, “Eat.” Then he plopped the cheese platter next to the vegetables. “That, too.” Luke couldn’t control the growl that rumbled out of his

lips. His mate needed to eat. He would be the one to— A palm slapped the granite countertop with a sharp crack! Isabelle glared at him, a fork clenched in her fist like a dagger. “Stop. Growling. At. My. Brother.” No one said anything. No one moved. Until Luke grinned. Damn, but her dominant and protective streaks were hot—even if they were in defense of Freddie, the jackass. “What was your rank in the army?” Luke asked her. “Captain.” “Used to giving orders, huh?” Her chin came up. “Nice,” he said, meaning it. “Okay, sugar. I’ll try, but he’s so damn annoying.” Isabelle’s lips twitched. “Moron,” Freddie mumbled under his breath. Luke ignored him; easy to do with his feisty mate in front of him. “If you’re not going to stab me, how about you put that fork to good use and have some dinner?” He pushed the veggies and cheese out of the way and replaced them with the plate he’d made for her. She swallowed as if pained and grimaced at it. “Thank you, but I’m a vegetarian.” The uppercut she’d served to his jaw must have rattled his brain, because he could have sworn she said— “Vegetarian!” Dean’s laugh sounded like his wolf’s bark. “That’s a good one. An herbivorous werewolf.” He wiped his eyes. “Oh, goddess.” “She’s not joking,” Freddie said. “I lived with them for almost a decade. I never saw either one of them eat a bite of meat. Not even an egg.” “What?” Luke asked. “That’s not possible.” Could Isabelle have survived this long on fruit and vegetables? “Is this why you look half-starved?” he blurted.

At the same time, Rissa said, “Are you nuts?” Isabelle gave them both a withering look. “What I eat and how I look are none of your damn business.” The hell it wasn’t. Everything about her was his business now. Like he fucking cared about her looks. He also didn’t care about whatever yuppie, city-girl reason she had for denying herself basic nutrition. A diet without meat could never satisfy the needs of a predatory shifter. Ravenous hunger was not a good idea for a werewolf. Hungry wolves make dangerous wolves. “Who’s ‘them’?” Dean asked. “What?” Luke said, his voice dangerously close to a snarl. His mate was trying to kill herself and— “Freddie said ‘either one of them,’” Dean repeated. “And earlier, Izzy said ‘we.’ Who else are you talking about, Fred?” The hot metal stench of pain and anguish rushed through the room, and Luke’s wolf whined at their mate’s distress. Not that you could tell from her face. Her expression was flat and cold, brittle as stone. Freddie sighed and looked at Isabelle with palpable sadness. “Bess,” Rissa said softly. “They’re talking about Izzy’s identical twin, Bess.” Oh, goddess. Luke didn’t want to ask the next question. “What happened?” He took Isabelle’s frigid hand and tightened his grip when she would have pulled away. He stroked her knuckles. Dread slithered down his spine while he waited for the answer. “She committed suicide,” Freddie said, his voice a harsh croak. Rissa leaned into her mate’s side, wrapping her arms around him. “Almost three years ago.” “I’m sorry,” Luke said. Unfortunately, he knew from

experience just how useless a sentiment it was. Isabelle nodded once, her posture as hard as the frozen ground during a Cabinet winter. He cursed, wanting to take her in his arms and hold her until that ice-cold veneer melted away. But for once, his wolf pulled him back, echoing Luke’s own earlier advice: Patience. Looking into her golden-brown eyes, Luke gently—so very gently—brushed a lock of hair away from her face. He’d give her time. But he wasn’t going anywhere. *** Izzy stared at Luke, his hands warm and gentle on hers. The pain from Bess’s death always smoldered just beneath the surface, like an ember waiting to burst into flame with the slightest breeze. And it had when they’d asked about her wild and reckless sister. For a few awful seconds, she’d wondered if today would be the day it’d burn her to ash. Then the iron control she’d learned at the back of her grandmother’s bony hand rose up and slammed the door shut on her grief, hiding it away. But the lock on that door was flimsy. Luke’s eyes, intense with emotion, held her captive. She must have been losing it, because it felt like a promise, like if she could just let herself fall into those deep green depths she’d be safe. Right. The part of her that had kept her alive all these years sneered at the thought. Nothing and nowhere was safe. Most definitely not here with a bunch of werewolves. No matter how charming or handsome. She jerked her hands. For a second, he tightened his grip before allowing her fingers to slide through his. An

inappropriate shiver danced up her spine. As if Luke wasn’t tempting enough, the aromas in the kitchen teased her, making her salivate. Her eyes slid to the mounded plate Luke had placed on the island in front of her. The beef, glistening with gravy, seemed to grow in size until it was all she could see. Her stomach cramped, growling ferociously. Without thinking, her hand darted out toward the plate. She stopped herself just before she dug into the bounty and shoved it into her face like an animal. “Filthy animals.” The clenching emptiness instantly turned to nausea, and she gagged. How could she? How could she even think about eating that? Did she want to end up like Bess? The ringing in her ears lessened as the damned plate disappeared. Izzy looked up to see Sarah, tight-lipped, studying her. Luke stood beside the healer, rigid, his hands clenched into fists, quiet growls rumbling from his throat. “Here, honey, how about some of this?” Sarah said, holding up the veggie tray. Izzy grabbed a handful of sliced peppers and stuffed them into her mouth. She couldn’t chew fast enough while the savory scent of roasted meat taunted her. Next, Sarah presented the platter of cheese and crackers. “You’re not vegan, are you?” Izzy shook her head and took several slices. Around a mouthful of cheddar, she said, “Tried that once. Couldn’t keep any weight on.” More growling from Luke. Freddie snorted. “You’re not keeping any on now.” She gave him a snide look, too busy stuffing three wheat crackers into her mouth—whole—to comment. So she flipped him off instead. Luke, too. Dean’s big, booming laugh echoed off the stainless steel

appliances and tile backsplash. To hell with them. For once her heart didn’t try to pound out of her chest in response to Luke’s growling. Either she was getting used to the constant aggressive vocalizations or she was too hungry to care. God, she was so hungry. “I don’t get it,” Freddie said, ignoring her bad manners. “How are you a werewolf? You guys never even wanted to go to Orland Park to visit Aunt Doreen. You said it was too country for you. You hated leaving the city.” She shrugged and kept eating. Of course they hadn’t wanted to go. All that open space and trees. It called to the monsters within, beckoned them to come out and play. Too much temptation. Another plate appeared in front of her. “Here, try this. There’s no meat in it. I promise,” Sarah said. “Sarah,” Luke said. His voice sounded like he’d gargled with gravel from the driveway. “Not now, Luke.” Izzy looked at the creamy casserole dotted with broccoli and dug in. She couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out. “They’re from Chicago,” Rissa said. Something in her voice made Izzy tear her attention away from the food. Sarah sucked in a breath and the kitchen grew strangely quiet. “I’d forgotten that,” Luke said. “Lot of tension there in the pack.” A tremor raced up Izzy’s spine. Her fork fell from her fingers and clattered against the island. Pack? “There’s no pack in Chicago.” Even as she spoke, images, vague and blurry, rushed through her mind’s eye: wolves darting through the moonless dark; fangs and claws; glowing eyes. “Isabelle!” Luke’s strong hands gripped her shoulders as her vision wavered and she grew light-headed.

“Don’t touch me!” She pushed him away and scrambled off the stool. Her legs wobbled. A damned elephant sat on her chest. “There’s a pack northwest of Milwaukee, more than two hours from Chicago. Almost three.” The four werewolves—four!—in the room looked at her with varying expressions of confusion. “The Milwaukee River pack’s primary hunting lands are out that way, yes,” Luke said. “But they have a pack house in Chicago. It’s near South Shore.” Hunting lands? The room spun. Nausea churned in her gut and strong arms lifted her off her feet. Air rushed past her face. Then she was sitting on a soft, low surface, her head pushed between her knees. “Easy, sugar. Slow breaths.” Luke’s deep voice rumbled in her ear, raising goose bumps on her arms. She tried to sit up, but his warm hand on her nape kept her bent over. “Nice and easy,” he said, letting her rise slowly. He pressed a bottle of water into her hands. When her hands shook too much to drink it, he steadied it. After a few sips, she found she was slumped on the sofa separating the kitchen from the family room. Luke sat in front of her on the coffee table with Freddie and Rissa hovering over his broad shoulders. “What was that?” Dean asked. Sarah sat next to Izzy on the sofa. “Panic attack, I’d say.” She placed two fingers on Izzy’s wrist to take her pulse. Izzy yanked her arm back. “No touching.” Hands raised in a placating gesture, Sarah asked, “Does this happen often?” Often enough since Bess died that she’d had to leave the Army. Izzy met Freddie’s gaze. His mouth pressed into a hard line. Neither of them answered. “She had one in the car on the way here,” Rissa said.

“Ris,” Freddie said in a hiss. “Sarah can’t help if she doesn’t have the facts.” “I don’t want her help,” Izzy said. Freddie was one thing, but she wasn’t about to discuss her problems with a bunch of freaking weres. Luke huffed, his jaw working. Finally, he slid back on the table, giving Izzy a few much-needed inches of space. When he looked at Sarah, she moved away, too, and the tight band around Izzy’s lungs loosened. “All right, sugar.” He nodded as if in approval. “Are you saying you’re not part of—were never part of—the Chicago pack even though you grew up there?” A pack. How the hell could they’ve not known there was a whole pack there? Maybe these weres had it wrong. Chicago was a big city. There were a lot of tourists and maybe... Maybe she was just a freaking idiot. The sofa seemed to tilt underneath her, but she wouldn’t fall this time, damn it. She swallowed back the bile and firmed her spine. “Yeah,” she answered, her voice a pathetic rasp. “No pack.” Not for her and Bess. Never. “I don’t get it,” Rissa said. “She was in foster care. Like a human.” This statement fell into the room like unexploded ordinance. Izzy and Freddie looked around at the pingponging glances. “What the hell does that mean?” Izzy asked. Luke clasped her hands, stilling them. Until that moment she hadn’t realized she’d been rubbing them up and down her thighs. He ignored her question. “How long were you in foster care?” “Not long enough,” she said, spitting the words like bullets. She yanked her hands back as rage burned away the

last remnants of her reserve. She hopped over the back of the couch and began pacing. A section of skin on her back, near her left shoulder, throbbed with phantom pain. Don’t think about that now. “They were almost thirteen when they came to our house. But they’d been in the system for a few months by then,” Freddie said. “Christ,” Dean said. “What?” Izzy asked, practically shouting. Movement wasn’t helping her temper, and her stomach cramped. Luke gave her a pitying look. “No pack or any other settled group of shifters would allow a juvenile to be raised by humans, Isabelle. The threat of discovery is just too high.” “You think I’m lying.” “No. I’m trying to understand. How were you and your sister able to hide the change? Especially the first time?” He said change like it deserved a capital C. With a bitter laugh she said, “We weren’t stupid. We didn’t.” Luke leapt over the couch, landing right in front of her. She skidded to a stop an inch from him. Gold completely enveloped his irises. Without thought, her hand shot out for a palm strike to his solar plexus. He dodged her assault with ease, grabbed her outstretched wrist and pulled her against his broad chest. She struggled to get free, twisting and kicking. “Stop,” he said in a low, firm voice, laying a gentle palm against her cheek. Just like that, all the fight went out of her, leaving her shaking with adrenaline. Luke wrapped his arms around her back. She should push him away, stomp on his instep with the hard heel of her boot. Or go limp, disrupt his center of gravity and flip him over her back. She did none of those

things. Instead, she listened to the strong, rapid beat of his heart, thumping beneath her ear, and the air flowing in and out of his lungs. When he rested his chin on her head, her mind went blank. They stayed like that, ignoring the whispered questions and conversations flowing around them until the chirrup of a cell phone broke the spell. Slowly, Izzy eased out of Luke’s embrace. It was like waking from a deep sleep. Several thoughts she couldn’t read passed over his face. Suddenly, he stiffened. His jaw turned to steel as Dean’s deep voice answered someone on the phone. Izzy turned and saw a similar expression on the big cop’s face. “What’s going on?” Freddie said. She realized as she scanned the room that all the werewolves were tense and alert, wariness pinching their eyes. “They’ve found a body,” Luke said. Freddie sucked in a breath. “Whose?” “Eric Conroy’s,” Dean said. He walked toward his Alpha. “You should come.” Luke nodded, his expression terrifying. With his eyes glowing, she thought she saw a shadow of the monster within settle over his handsome features. But then he looked at her and the vision was gone. While she stood frozen, he leaned down, buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Softly, he kissed her forehead. Izzy watched him walk out the door, feeling a little drunk though she hadn’t had any alcohol. Slowly, gently, as if in a dream, she pressed her fingers to the spot he’d kissed. There should be some physical mark left behind. “Why?” she whispered. Rissa appeared next to her. “Why what?” All the questions swirled and bumped around in her head.

Why did he kiss her? Why did he give a shit what happened to her now, let alone when she was a kid? Why was he getting involved in a murder investigation? The one that popped out was “Why is he coming back?” To her? “Because he can’t do anything else.”

Chapter Six Staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace, Izzy tried to ignore the sounds of dishes clattering and aluminum foil tearing. She breathed through her mouth, yet that seemed to make the cravings stronger, like she could taste the beef and lasagna through the air. She glanced at the vegetables wilting on the plate in front of her. They held as much appeal as dirty shoe leather. The refrigerator door closed with a sucking sound. “I’ll get the rest later, babe,” Freddie said to Rissa. There was a beat of silence. “Okay...if you’re sure.” “Yup.” More silence. “All right. Sarah and I are going for a walk. We won’t be far if you need us.” Meaning: if your sister goes postal, we’re just a shout away. The back door opened and closed, and cold air rushed into the room. The fire sputtered and one of the logs cracked, shooting up brilliant embers. Freddie’s gaze bore into the top of Izzy’s skull. She sighed. Surrendered. “Okay. Let me have it.” He stepped around in front of her, his mouth set in a thin, hard line. Finally, he blew out a breath and flung himself down on the couch next to her. She bounced as his weight hit the cushions. “I get why you and Bess didn’t tell me what you are,” he said. “But...” “But I can’t make our life in Chicago jibe with what I know about a shifter’s lifestyle.”

“We never lived their lifestyle. Ever.” At least Izzy never had. And when Bess tried... She shuddered and hopped up to pace. No way could she sit still, sit next to her brother, while they had this nightmare conversation. “Come on,” he said. “Where’d you shift? Hank and Abby knew where we were 24/7.” “I already told you. We didn’t.” Freddie’s mouth dropped open. “Are you shitting me? That’s not possible.” “No. And it is.” Abject pity grew in his eyes. “Iz, what did your grandmother do to you?” Bile rose in her throat and she wrapped her arms over her stomach. Despite the blazing fire, she was suddenly freezing. She heard Freddie rise from the couch and approach her, but she didn’t face him. She couldn’t stand to see him look at her like the pathetic thing she was. When he touched her shoulder, Izzy nearly leapt across the room. “Whoa! Okay, it’s okay,” he said. “No touching, I swear.” The misery in his voice rooted her feet when she would have run out the door. God, he thought the problem was him. Didn’t he see? Didn’t he know? Freddie Dodd was protective, kind, and fiercely loyal. He’d had her back since the day they met. He shouldn’t touch her. She was a...thing. She was disgusting. Filthy. Even more so, thanks to her grandmother. And by not telling him the truth, not warning him about lycanthropes and magic, she’d let him walk right into this horrible mess. “I’m so sorry,” she said, choking out the words. “For what?” Warm brown eyes searched her face.

She shook her head over and over. Christ, her stomach hurt. “Was your grandmother a werewolf, too?” Her legs dropped out from under her and her butt hit the coffee table. “No.” Freddie knelt in front of her, but as promised, he didn’t touch. In a quiet voice, he said, “I’ve seen the scars, Iz.” The room swirled in a psychedelic kaleidoscope, and she gulped for air. Every mark etched into her skin throbbed. The memory of the reek from her own burning flesh filled her nose. Her brother moaned. “Please. Please, let me hug you.” No! She scrambled over the table, keeping it between herself and Freddie. “God damn that fucking bitch to hell!” Freddie’s voice snapped like a whip. “No, damn it! Don’t you see? She was trying to protect —” “If you say that shriveled old shrew was trying to protect you and Bess, so help me God—” “She was protecting everyone else,” she said. “From us.” “What the fu—” “And Grandmother was right!” Izzy slammed her hand against the coffee table, splitting it down the middle. Horrified, she hid her hands behind her back. Freddie leapt to his feet. “Izzy—” “Look! Look what I did,” she said, backing away from him. “What we could have done to you at any time.” Freddie shook his head. “No. You never would’ve hurt me.” “Bullshit!” she shouted. “Don’t you get it? One mistake, one slip of our strength, and you or someone else would have gone to the ER—or worse. We put you all at risk. For all those years.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she

shook her head emphatically. “No, Fred. You don’t understand. Bess killed someone the night she died. She changed and murdered someone. That’s why she did it!” All the anger and fight drained from her body as her brother gaped in horror. Izzy slumped onto the couch. “That’s why she killed herself.” “How the hell do you know that? You were in Iraq. Mom couldn’t even get ahold of you until the day after we found Bess.” “She told me,” she said. “Excuse me?” Christ, she was tired. Izzy scrubbed her hands over her face. “We video-chatted whenever we could. Remember?” Bess said it made her feel as if Izzy wasn’t so far away. Not that she ever forgave Izzy for joining the Army and leaving her behind. “That night, she called me.” It had been a hot, sunny Sunday morning for Izzy. “Oh God. Who?” She shrugged. “Don’t know.” Bess hadn’t even said the poor guy’s name. Freddie stared at her. “Iz,” he said, his voice quiet and careful. “Have you considered maybe it was a lie? Or a delusion of some sort? You know how she was. I mean, I know we all thought she’d been doing better, but obviously we were wrong. If she was so far gone that she’d do that to herself, who knows what was going on in her head?” A bitter smile twisted Izzy’s lips. “Oh, how I wish you were right about that.” “Iz—” “She showed me, Freddie. Okay? She panned the fucking camera and showed me what she’d done.” Images from her sister’s last video chat played in her head like a horror film reel. Short blond hair. Jeans and dark T-

shirt turned black with blood. Jesus, there’d been a lot of blood. “Wh-what?” Freddie wobbled and sank down onto the floor. “What?” After a minute, “Where?” “Her apartment.” Freddie was shaking his head. Izzy felt blunt and numb, like waking from anesthesia. Surprising how she could still form words through wooden lips. But she’d started this train wreck and now she had to ride it to the end. “She said she’d make sure no one would find him. How, I don’t know. Because the next minute, Bess picked up a revolver and put it to her temple.” “Oh, Christ!” Freddie scrambled up and ran to the kitchen sink. Even over the sounds of his retching, Izzy could still hear the echo of that gunshot, and the horrible thud of her sister’s lifeless body hitting the floor.

Chapter Seven The flashing lights of emergency vehicles and squawk of police radios marred the beautiful setting of Turtle Point. Carved into the stony shore of Black Robe Lake, the remote inlet offered spectacular views of the Cabinet Mountains’ peaks silhouetted against an inky field of stars. Lying at the end of a curving dirt trail, hidden from view of the main road by a quarter mile of thick forest, it was a popular make-out spot for the high school crowd. Not tonight. Getting out of his pickup, the first thing Luke noticed was the smell. He sneezed violently and scrubbed the end of his itching nose. “Jesus, what’s that?” Dean said, holding his hand over his face. “Citronella.” They both flinched as the sheriff, Vaughn Ellis, emerged from the woods, wearing a breathing mask that made him look like an extra from Star Wars. Neither had sensed the other male’s approach at all. Hell, Luke couldn’t smell anything over the oily lemon scent filling the air. Though they were close in age, Luke didn’t know the sheriff very well. After Ellis’s father died when he was a child, he and his mother, an eagle shifter, moved to Arizona to be with her people. But Luke did remember the talk and bizarre rumors that inevitably sprouted up when Ellis returned to Black Robe each summer. Impossible stories that said the giant golden eagle riding the thermals over the mountains wasn’t really Ellis’s mother but the young werewolf himself.

“Here.” Ellis held out two masks. “I had some painting respirators brought out from the hardware store.” As they put them on, Dean asked, “Isn’t citronella the stuff they use in candles to keep mosquitos away?” Red rimmed Ellis’s gray eyes. “Yeah, and in dog control collars. You know, the dog barks and gets a little puff of this crap as a deterrent.” “Effective,” Luke said through his wolf’s growl. Having their primary sense waylaid like a common canine was enough to raise both their hackles. He donned the mask, which dulled the overpowering stench but didn’t eliminate it. “Extremely,” Ellis said. “So let’s talk here before I take you to the body. What do you know about Eric Conroy?” “I’ve met him several times. Chamber of Commerce stuff, mostly. But I can’t say I know him personally.” “He wasn’t associated with the pack?” “No. He and his family are human,” Luke said, his eyes narrowing. “Though I did call him yesterday for some information on a bunch of recent land sales. Why?” “What’d he tell you?” “Nothing. He didn’t answer.” Ellis nodded, and something in his eyes told Luke the sheriff had already known the answer. “So no pack dealings at all then?” Ellis asked. “What the hell, Vaughn?” Dean growled. “This is a murder investigation, deputy.” Even with the masks concealing their expressions and the citronella overriding their scents, the hostility and challenge between Ellis and Dean was clear. Their beasts’ power rippled over Luke, raising the hair on his neck, calling his own wolf to the surface. Since Ellis had returned to Black Robe a few months ago, he and Dean had maintained a tense but respectful

distance. As Beta, Dean ranked higher in the pack than Ellis. But within the sphere of law enforcement, Ellis was king. In wolf form, they glared and growled at each other. Still, Ellis never did anything that could be construed as an overt challenge to Dean’s position as Beta. In fact, he didn’t seem interested in position at all. During pack runs, when pack hierarchy was normally established, the sheriff kept a tight rein on his beast. He didn’t back down from fights, but he never started them either. Other wolves weren’t so easygoing. Every run saw him facing down several challengers—each one looking to prove themselves stronger, more dominant. So far, he had prevailed every time. With ease. Maybe his laissez-faire approach to pack status had come to an end. “Enough.” Luke stepped between the bristling males. They didn’t have time for this. And he certainly didn’t have the patience. A world-class headache pounded behind his eyes thanks to his wolf’s distress at being in this reeking forest, away from their vulnerable mate. Facing the sheriff, he got right to the point. “To answer your question, Vaughn, no. There is no reason for the pack to want Conroy dead.” “There’s nothing Conroy could have seen that he shouldn’t have?” “Everything is legal. Hell, we’re even incorporated. If he’d found out about us, you know we wouldn’t have murdered him. We certainly wouldn’t have and left his body somewhere a couple of humans could stumble upon him.” The bristling power of the sheriff’s wolf faded away. “All right then. Come on.” He turned on his heel and stalked back into the woods. Luke clapped Dean on the arm. “It’s fine. Let’s go.” Dean glared at the spot where Ellis had disappeared into the trees. Then, shaking himself like he was shedding water

from his pelt, he nodded. The crescent moon offered little light, but they had no trouble following Ellis. Despite his muscular, six-two frame, he moved silently through the dense woods. It reminded Luke so much of Ellis’s uncle, Darren, that a pang of loss twisted his stomach. He could have sworn he was following their late Beta were it not for the long, dark braid that reached the middle of Ellis’s back. “Couple of kids called it in,” Ellis said over his shoulder. “The boy’s a fox shifter from Libby, but even the human girl with him could smell the citronella from the parking area.” They stopped just outside the glow cast by a ring of battery-powered lanterns set up around a dark lump in the snow. Deputy Sam Vogel, another of Luke’s wolves, hovered over the form on the ground, writing on a clipboard. He greeted them, a haunted look in his irritated eyes. “It’s not a pleasant sight.” A growl reverberated within Luke’s head. It didn’t matter if Sam was old enough to become a sheriff’s deputy. He was still the gangly juvenile Luke had watched over on pack runs, making sure he didn’t get into too much trouble while the young pup sniffed around after the females. Sam was a kid. He shouldn’t have to look at things like this. Hell, none of them should. “Bastards covered the guy in citronella oil,” Ellis growled. “I can’t even smell the body.” Dean lifted his mask, sniffed, and promptly started gagging. Swearing and sputtering, he raised his flushed face. “Son of a bitch. Nothing.” “They covered the scent trail,” Luke said. “Shifter, then. Or a human who knows about us,” Dean said, his voice a choked rasp. “He wanted us nose-blind. Otherwise, what’s the point?” Ellis pointed in the direction of the main road. “They

brought the body in through there on foot. Walked out the same way. Not only did they spray this stuff all along that trail, but they dragged something behind them obliterating their footprints.” Luke swore. Then he swore again when he saw what had been done to the man lying in the snow. A thin man in life, Eric Conroy looked positively scrawny in death. His dark suit was torn at the left shoulder seam, his sedate tie loose and crooked around his badly broken neck. Dean squatted to take a better look. “Damn. Broke it clean through.” “It gets worse,” Ellis said, pulling on latex gloves. He hunkered down across from Dean and motioned for Luke to do the same. Clicking on a flashlight, he directed it at Conroy’s slack mouth and tipped down the chin. Bile rose in Luke’s throat. “What the fuck?” Someone had cut out Eric Conroy’s tongue. “Certainly sends a message, doesn’t it?” Ellis said. “Wonder who it’s for?”

Chapter Eight Caine carefully set his cell phone down on the kitchen table. Despite the wolf snarling in his head, he refused to lose control of his temper—no matter how idiotic the male he’d just spoken to was. The front door opened down the hall. There was a pause, then hushed voices. A forty-something, blonde human woman in a sparkling navy evening gown looked down the hallway at Caine as she hurried past to the curved stairway. A look of distaste twisted her pretty, yet bland, features. He didn’t react. What did he care if a human found him repugnant? It’d require no effort at all to snap her skinny neck. Someday soon, when she’d outlived her usefulness, he’d probably get to do just that. Arms crossed over his chest, he waited. Quiet footsteps sounded on the tile floor. “You seem annoyed,” his employer and pack leader, Holt, said as he entered the kitchen. It didn’t matter that their pack didn’t have a defined territory they could mark on any map—there was no one else Caine would call Alpha. He’d kill for many reasons, enjoy it while he did it, but bare his throat to anyone else? Never. It wasn’t a matter of dominance or fear, or even love. He’d never loved anything, except the hunt, in his life. No, with Holt, it was vision. Caine wanted to live in the world Holt was creating. For that, he’d take orders. Dressed in a tuxedo, Holt strode through the room, loosening his bow tie as he went. He opened a cabinet, retrieved a glass and held it up. “Drink?” When Caine nodded, he got another glass and filled them with Armadale vodka from the freezer. He passed one over, then took a

long sip. “Generally speaking, people die when you’re annoyed. So, who are we killing today?” “It’s Montana.” Holt sighed. “What is it now?” “Our associates”—Caine curled his lip at the word —“are concerned the land acquisition transactions won’t hold up to scrutiny.” A subvocal growl Caine felt more than heard raised the hair on his neck. The evidence of Holt’s temper ended almost immediately. “Why? I thought the developer was in their pocket.” “He is, but the Alpha there is much more involved and determined than we were led to believe. His Luna is lobbying the state government in Helena so hard, she’s practically a fixture in the legislature’s offices. Apparently, Branson, the developer, is under pressure from the state department of Environmental Quality. He’s getting cold feet.” “Then they take care of it. We provided the financing, the government connections, and the bribes. They’re supposed to be able to manage their own damn pack.” “I expected them to take control of the pack several months ago. They haven’t. When questioned, their answers are”—Caine’s voice sank into a growl—“less than satisfactory. All I get are excuses.” Holt took another sip of his drink. “I know you wanted to handle this yourself when we began the project, but I was assured our associates would make their Alpha and Beta’s deaths look like an accident. Instead, they were obviously murdered and the idiots’ attempt at covering it up was so clumsy as to be childish. I should have let you handle it. You would have crippled the pack leadership without anyone knowing what had happened to them.” Caine inclined his head in acknowledgment of the

compliment and drank. The chilled vodka burned as it slid down his throat. “They eliminated the county clerk tonight, a human. They were afraid he’d speak to Wyland. They said they took forensic countermeasures, but—” He spread his hands out to the sides. “But, you’re not confident it was done right.” “No.” Holt ran a hand through his short red hair. He sighed again. “Fine. It’s time for you to take an active role in our Montana problem. I trust you to handle the situation as you see fit. Caine?” “Sir?” “We’re at a critical juncture. I know you hate the subterfuge, but we cannot afford for our involvement to be discovered. We’re so close to reaching our goals. Apex must go on, at all costs.”

Chapter Nine Izzy rubbed her scratchy eyes as she padded into the kitchen of Freddie and Rissa’s house. The only illumination came from the low-burning fire in the fireplace and the faint glow from a light above the stove. It was early, before dawn. Even the winter birds were hushed. But she’d given up trying to sleep. The quiet and dark brought nothing but bad dreams. Most disturbing? Some of her dreams last night had made her heart pound, but not in fear. Damn that damn Alpha wolf. What business did he have invading her dreams with his deep voice all low and seductive? Touching her. Making her feel delicate and feminine and— Damn that damn Alpha wolf! She opened cabinets until she found a glass. “Can’t sleep?” Whirling, she nearly dropped the glass when she found Luke peering at her over the back of the couch. “Jesus,” she said, hand over her jackhammering heart. The orange glow of the fire backlit his dark, messy hair and shone on his bare shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He stood and rubbed the back of his neck. Damn, he was big. Over six feet tall, with shoulders that blocked the light from the fireplace. Her heart thumped at the sight of his bare chest. Strongly muscled, it tapered down to a set of abs that actually made her mouth go dry. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d never swooned over a pretty face and ripped bod before. Stupid freaking dreams.

Izzy forced her eyes back up to his face. “What are you doing here?” He walked toward her on bare feet. Christ. He had nothing on but a pair of well-worn, low-slung jeans. That. Were. Not. Buttoned. She licked parched lips and really wished she had that glass of water right now. “Something wrong with the coffee table?” Luke asked, nodding back toward the living room. A guilty blush heated her face. “Um...” Luke plucked the glass from her limp fingers, filled it with milk from the refrigerator, and handed it to her. She backed up until her butt hit the counter. “I wanted water.” “Milk’s better.” “For what?” “You.” She gave him an unimpressed look that quickly morphed into consternation as he closed the distance between them. If she wanted to get past, she’d have to touch him. On bare skin. Not a good idea. Heat poured off him like a furnace and she had an almost overpowering urge to bask in it like a cat in a ray of sun. Werewolf, Iz. Bossy, annoying werewolf. Good reminder. He was infuriating, not cute. No, “cute” was definitely not a word anyone would use to describe Luke Wyland. She opened her mouth to blister his ears with exactly what she thought of his high-handedness when her stomach growled loudly. “Drink,” he said. He didn’t wait for her to comply or argue, just turned his back and opened the refrigerator again. “Eggs?” he asked from behind the refrigerator door. “No.” Her stomach growled again and she slapped a hand over it.

He gave her a look that said, Really? “Not gonna happen,” she said. “Of course not.” The door closed with a bump of his elbow and he dropped an armful of items on the island. Flipping on the pendant lamps above it, he glared at the full glass in her hand. “You’re not drinking.” “Huh?” Izzy’s brain fritzed, distracted by the light shining on Luke’s black hair like a halo as he buttered bread. Not to mention his dangerously low-hanging jeans. If he breathed wrong, they were goners. The jeans. Not her. Because she was not looking at the dark line of hair that ran down his washboard stomach into his precariously perched Levi’s. Nope. “Why are you here?” she asked again. “Did you sleep here?” “Yup.” He grinned, and something like satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “I like it here. You’re here.” A long, muscled arm stretched past her, bringing his chest up close and personal with her face. She froze, and the hair on his pecs brushed her chin. A low buzzing filled her head like static on an old TV. She couldn’t prevent the gasp that drew in his scent. It reminded her of sun-warmed leaves on a fall day. When Luke traced a finger down her cheek, her traitorous knees actually wobbled. What the hell was she doing? Luke was a werewolf. And not just any werewolf, but the Alpha of a goddamned pack of them. She gave him a shove and darted out from the trap of his big, masculine body. She was panting and he smirked at her as if he knew the havoc he wrought. Wanting to wipe the smug look off his face, she said, “What happened with the dead guy?” He froze. Jaw clenched, he set down the knife, squaring it up to the bread with careful deliberation. When his gaze met hers, she saw rage in his eyes as the green swirled with gold

and the predator peeked out. Izzy rubbed clammy hands against her thighs. “He was murdered,” Luke said. “Someone broke his neck.” Her grandmother’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Killers, all of them. Vile, filthy beasts.” Cold dread settled in Izzy’s empty belly and she fought the urge to run. Freddie was right down the hall, asleep. She couldn’t leave him behind. Luke swore and rubbed his neck. “Sorry.” The gold faded and an unmistakable sadness filled his eyes. “Poor bastard had a family.” Nice. Why don’t you see if Luke has a pet you can kick, too? Reaching out, she touched his arm. Luke laid his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. That strange buzzing filled her head again. “Did you know him?” she asked softly. “Not really. He was human and not associated with the pack. We’ve spoken, though.” He shrugged. “It’s a small town.” “Right.” “Don’t worry, Isabelle. We’ll find the bastards who did this.” The words rumbled with the growl of his wolf. She gulped and pulled her hand out of his grasp. “Are you a cop?” “No,” he said, fishing a frying pan out from a cabinet next to the stove. “Isn’t it the cops’ job to catch the killer?” “Yes. But it’s my responsibility.” “Why? Because the killer is one of your weres?” “Of course not.” He grimaced. “Well, I don’t know that for certain...” “So why is it your problem then?”

“Everything that happens in this territory is my responsibility.” He made it sound like a simple truth, like that the sun rose in the east, or the sky was blue. “Even when it concerns just humans?” “Yes.” “Because you’re the Alpha.” “Yes.” Luke turned back to the food. Her stomach chose that moment to growl again. He pointed at her with a butter knife. “Drink.” She was surprised to find she still held the glass of milk he’d given her. Ravenous, she took a big gulp, and was so empty, she actually felt the cold liquid hit her stomach. Blech. Plain milk had never been her thing. Opening cupboards, she hoped Freddie stuck to old habits. “Score,” she said when she opened the refrigerator and found the bottle of Hershey’s syrup. She refilled the milk and squirted a long stream of chocolate gold into the glass. Luke held out a spoon. “Thanks.” “No problem.” With delight, she watched the syrup swirl, turning the milk a nice medium brown. Perfect. She drank half the glass. “Mmm,” she sighed, licking her lips. A choked sound made her glance up at Luke. His eyes, fixed on her mouth, glittered. “Do that again,” he said, his voice low and husky. Izzy backed up until she banged into the refrigerator. “Um...” Luke stalked toward her before jerking to a stop a foot away. A flush colored his high cheekbones. He stared at her like she was his last meal, his gaze burning over every inch of her. Izzy’s pulse pounded in her throat. What was happening? She felt hunted, a little afraid, but also...excited.

Knees bent, fists clenched, she readied herself for anything. Everything. Luke’s nostrils flared. Without warning, he shook himself from head to toe, breaking the tense moment, like snapping a string. He scrubbed his hair, sticking it up every which way. Stupidly, she blurted, “You look like a dog shaking like that.” One black brow rose. “Wolf, baby. I’m a wolf.” “Like I could forget,” she muttered. Luke threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Oh, damn. You are not going to give me an inch, are you?” He wiped his eyes. Several seconds passed before he settled down. All the while, she stared at him, utterly perplexed. She’d been formulating escape plans on the fly, preparing to lead off with a feigned knee to the groin, followed by a rapid uppercut and left hook. Instead, she was hemmed in by his laughing bulk and had no idea what to do about it. She scowled. “You’re weird.” Visibly checking himself, Luke sobered and cleared his throat. “Ah, sorry.” He held up his hands and took half a step back. “You ever come up against the old ‘be careful what you wish for’ scenario?” “What are you talking about?” “Never mind.” He eased back another few inches, like it pained him to give her any space. “I’m very attracted to you.” Izzy blinked. “To me?” A grin, slow and wide, spread across Luke’s face, and his eyes glimmered again. “Uh-huh.” She looked down at herself, taking in the white athletic socks, ratty fleece pajama bottoms, and wrinkled longsleeved tee. Everything was oversized and baggy. She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Why?”

*** Why? Luke tried not to laugh again, but he couldn’t suppress a smile. Didn’t she realize what she did to him? Then again, he’d noticed she didn’t use her nose much. Maybe she couldn’t scent the lust that slammed him every single time he laid eyes on her. He frowned. What had happened to his little mate to make her reject her animal side? “We didn’t finish our discussion last night,” he said. “That was a discussion? I thought it was an interrogation.” “Next time remind me to get out the rubber hose.” The exasperated roll of her eyes had him grinning again as he buttered bread. “So, Isabelle, tell me about you.” He wanted to know everything. When was she born? Where did she go to school? Why had she chosen the Army? What was her favorite flavor of ice cream? No detail was too small. He wanted it all. “I’m here for Freddie. That’s it. Then I’m outta here.” His beast snarled in his head. Over my dead body, Luke thought. She was his. Whether she knew it or not. “Why don’t you start with your family?” he suggested. “How did you and your sister end up in foster care?” Another scowl. This one accompanied by the bitter and murky scents of anger and grief. “We really gotta do this?” “Yup.” He set a large frying pan on the stove and turned on the burner. Butter sizzled as he assembled grilled cheese sandwiches. “Don’t you want to put on a shirt?” “Nope. I’m good.” Her breathing sped up and her gaze seemed rooted on his bare chest. Then it traveled down. The sweet scent of warm

vanilla cookies spiced the air, and Luke’s mouth watered. What he wouldn’t give for a taste. Isabelle blinked slowly like she was waking from a long sleep. “Don’t blame me if you burn something important.” Laughing, he said, “Don’t worry, sugar, I’ll be fine.” “I’m not worried.” “No. You’re avoiding my questions.” She was quiet for so long he didn’t think she’d answer. Then, “Our parents died when we were four. Car accident. We moved in with our paternal grandmother. We stayed with her until we were twelve and she couldn’t take care of us anymore. We didn’t have any other family, so we were placed in foster care. Then we bounced around until we went to live with the Dodds and Freddie.” Isabelle gave the answer without inflection, her expression as brittle as cracked glass. Luke suspected she had recited that exact statement many times before. Rehearsed, full of facts, yet completely devoid of any real information. “I’m sorry about your parents, sugar.” “Uh-huh.” “That had to be hard.” “Uh-huh.” It might be easier getting answers from a stone, but he wasn’t throwing in the towel yet. “Was your grandmother a lycanthrope?” “No,” she said with a bitter laugh. He slid two sandwiches onto a plate. “So your father was human?” “No. Both of our parents were werewolves.” What the hell? If that was true, then her grandfather had been a wolf. Her grandmother—human or not—should have been well aware of the girls’ lycanthropy. Why the hell were they raised outside of a pack?

He pushed the plate toward her. “Eat,” he said, earning another one of her glares. “I don’t understand why you and your sister were in the human foster care system then. I told you last night, no pack would allow their young to be raised by humans.” “We were never the pack’s!” “Isabelle—” She shook her head in denial, but he persisted. “You grew up in Chicago. There’s a pack there. Has been since before the city was a city. You must have known that.” “How would I? We lived as humans.” Now Luke was the one to shake his head. It made no sense. “Trust me, sweetheart, when I say that the pack knew about you.” The question was, why hadn’t they made contact? He’d be damned if any lycanthrope child in his territory—wolf or otherwise—went without the support of the pack. Humans were not equipped to handle the needs and challenges young shifters faced. Isabelle wrapped her arms around her middle and sank onto one of the island stools. Goddess, he wanted to hold her. “I don’t understand,” he said, walking around the island to stand before her. “Why would you try to live like a human? It’s not possible.” The scent of anger drowned out the buttery aroma of the grilled cheese, which his starving mate had yet to touch. His wolf paced in his mind, impatient with the conversation. Isabelle needed to eat. And she needed to shift, to run in the wilderness, to heal. “It is possible,” she said, her voice shaking with fury. “You don’t have to give in to the monster.” “Monster? What—” “Everything all right in here?” Freddie asked, striding

into the kitchen wearing a thunderous expression. Rissa followed close behind. Sorry, she mouthed at Luke. “We’re fine. Go away,” he snapped. “Isabelle and I are in the middle of something.” Freddie looked at his sister, then glanced around the kitchen. “Breakfast?” He plopped down on a stool next to her. “Sorry, but Izzy and I have to be at the airfield in an hour.” With her body tensed as if in preparation to leap across the island at him, Isabelle followed Luke’s every move. Damn it to hell, he’d scared her again. Hadn’t he learned that she’d leap into any fray to protect her brother? Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he did his best to make his voice even, calm. “Why?” “Izzy’s taking over for me while Rissa and I are on our honeymoon, remember? I have to show her around, introduce her to everyone. Yadda yadda yadda.” Isabelle made a small noise in the back of her throat, but the fear had leached from her scent. Good enough. “That can wait,” Luke said. “’Fraid not. We have clients scheduled for a flight to Spokane and back,” Freddie said. “Reschedule.” Luke pointed at the plate next to his mate and softened his voice. “Eat, Isabelle. It’s getting cold.” For once, she didn’t argue. He relaxed as she picked up a piece of sandwich and took a bite. She hummed her pleasure and bit off another chunk. Satisfaction rushed through him, easing an ache he hadn’t realized existed. His wolf preened. If this was what came of meeting his mate’s needs, Luke would provide for her every whim. “Luke.” The tone of Rissa’s voice said she’d been trying to talk to him and he hadn’t heard. “Hmm?” Luke didn’t take his eyes off Isabelle as she

finished her first sandwich and started on the second. He couldn’t restrain the goofy smile that tugged at his mouth. Every bite his mate took filled him, too. Isabelle glanced at him and a pretty blush brightened her cheeks. To his great satisfaction, it grew until even her ears turned red. Nope. Definitely not immune to him. She wiped her mouth on a napkin and turned away. It didn’t bother him. Not when he could practically feel her attention focused on him like a laser. Freddie made a disgusted sound. “Rissa said that we can’t reschedule today’s client.” “Why?” Luke asked as he walked to the refrigerator to get Isabelle more milk. “Because they’re flying Alan Branson and his VP today,” Rissa said. Luke’s gaze snapped to her. “Why the hell is your family’s company still transporting that bastard?” “Who’s Alan Branson?” Isabelle asked. “He’s a real estate developer whose company has acquired the mining rights for land within the Cabinet Mountains Wilderness,” Rissa said. “Isn’t that federally protected land? I didn’t think you could even bring motorized vehicles into the area, let alone mine it.” Isabelle’s knowledge of his territory pleased Luke immensely. He smiled at her as he handed her another glass of chocolate milk. “The previous administration in DC made some changes. The mine hasn’t received the final goahead, but it’s close. And if it was up to Branson, he would strip this territory of every natural resource.” “And destroy our land in the process,” Rissa said. “Yeah, well, Marianne is hoping I can somehow dazzle Branson with the miracle of Mother Nature. Convince him of the error of his ways and all that,” Freddie said, rolling

his eyes. Luke’s doubt on the probability of that succeeding must have shown on his face because the human added, “Exactly.” “Maybe you can get him to tell you who his partners are,” Rissa said. Freddie pulled Rissa between his legs. “Baby doll, if Branson wouldn’t tell you when you asked”—he nuzzled her neck, eliciting a little squeal—“why would he tell me?” With a grimace, Isabelle turned back around and assiduously studied her sandwich. “Why don’t you know who the other investors are?” she asked, her voice austere and businesslike. “We’ve been trying to find out for months and we can’t get past all the holding companies,” Luke said. “You’d think the government wouldn’t want to grant mining permits to anonymous shell corporations. What time will you be back, Freddie? I want to speak to Branson again myself.” “Is everything around here your responsibility?” Isabelle asked. “Is everyone?” Freddie snorted. “He’d like to think so.” Luke gave him a look. Really, he should’ve let Marianne eat the annoying bastard. He tucked a wisp of hair behind Isabelle’s ear. “Some more than others,” he said. She pulled away. “I can take care of myself.” He looked down at the crumbs of her inadequate vegetarian meal. “Can you?”

Chapter Ten As Luke put away the frying pan, Freddie stormed back into the kitchen with fire in his eyes. Luke almost admired the man’s daring. Not many would be brave enough to get in an Alpha werewolf’s face, but Freddie Dodd had a great big pair of brass balls on him. Had to, Luke supposed, to attract a female like Rissa and claim her as his mate. Still, Isabelle was Luke’s and no one was going to stand in his way. He pointed at the man before he could say a word. “Don’t interfere.” Freddie snorted. “You can take that shit and shove it right up your hairy ass, Wyland. We’ve already been through this. Izzy is my sister. I’ve got a few things to say and you’re damn well gonna listen.” Anger snapped through Luke, but his wolf was swayed by the human’s familial claim. Pack was everything. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Keep your voice down. Isabelle has a protective streak a mile wide when it comes to you. If she hears us arguing, she’ll be out here in three seconds flat.” Quieter, Freddie said, “As hilarious as it would be to see her ring your bell again, she doesn’t need to be here for this.” “I like that Isabelle fights for her family. She has claws.” Luke grinned, slow and devilish. “It’s a turn-on, actually.” The scowl on Freddie’s face brightened Luke’s day. “Watch it, asshole. That’s my sister you’re panting over.” “Say your piece”—Luke held up a hand—“but don’t press your luck.” “Whatever, dickhead. You can’t treat Izzy like just any

other female werewolf.” “Why? Because she grew up with humans?” “That and—” Freddie sighed and shook his head. “Izzy’s been through a lot. Hell, too much, man. Way too much. I mean, any kid who winds up in foster care is gonna be dragging some extra-large trunks of emotional baggage. But Bess and Izzy? They showed up at our house lugging a tractor-trailer’s worth of crap behind them. They never told me much about what their lives were like before they went into the system. But it was crystal clear that foster care was the best thing that ever happened to them.” A cold knot formed in Luke’s gut. “Why?” “After their parents died, the girls went to live with their grandmother. They didn’t talk about her. Ever. But there were a lot of nightmares. The kind where you wake everyone in the house with your screams.” Freddie rubbed his eyes. When he looked back at Luke, his expression was bleak. “They have scars.” He swallowed convulsively. “Both of ’em. Burn marks, too. Like a fucking brand!” Dear goddess. The salty, acrid scent of grief followed Freddie as he paced. “Guess I should say Izzy has scars. Bess... I was home on leave and Bess was supposed to come over for dinner with the family. When she didn’t show or answer her phone, Dad and I went over to her apartment. She was an artist—photography, sculpture, painting, you name it. Sometimes she’d lose track of time when she was working. Turn off her phone so she wouldn’t be disturbed. It drove Mom freaking nuts. “Bess had this loft in a converted meatpacking plant on the South Side. Dad hammered on her damned huge metal door. I’ll never forget that sound. Stupid, huh? All the horrible shit from that day, and that’s what sticks with me, the thing that fucks me up at night. Dad callin’ Bess’s name,

bangin’ away on that big, old gong. Of course, we knew something was wrong. You just know sometimes.” Luke nodded. He remembered that feeling, too. “Dad didn’t have a key,” Freddie said. “Because sharing that much of herself would have been too fuckin’ much for Bess. Guess I know why now, huh? So I had to go roust the manager. Good thing the guy lived in the building because Dad was about to get the tire iron from his car to bust the door down. “The instant that door opened—” Freddie choked and Luke squeezed his shoulder. “She used an old Smith & Wesson revolver. A .38. God, the mess.” Luke couldn’t imagine that horror. He knew what it was to see someone you loved dead, but finding your sister, your daughter...and knowing that she’d done it to herself. “Izzy thinks she’s a monster,” Freddie said, his voice rough as bark. “What Bess did cemented that belief for her.” Monster. That word again. A chill ran down Luke’s back. “How so?” Freddie sighed. “I loved Bess, but she could be a real bitch. She called Izzy on a video chat where she not only confessed to losing control of her wolf and killing a man, but showed Izzy the freaking body.” “Jesus,” Luke said. “Who was it? How—” “I don’t know, man. Izzy doesn’t know either. All I can tell you is there was no one else in her loft. No sign there had been anyone else killed there. Whoever cleaned up after her did a real thorough job. The cops didn’t find any sign another body’d been there either.” “Wait. Are you saying Isabelle saw her sister commit suicide?” Freddie swallowed like he had a lump in his throat. “Yes.” “Jesus,” Luke whispered. How many nightmares did his

mate have to deal with every night? This morning there’d been dark circles under her eyes. Perhaps her pallor wasn’t due entirely to her diet. “They were twins, you know,” Freddie said as he sank onto a stool. He looked and sounded exhausted, too. Trauma did that to you. “Identical. In everything but personality. From the moment I met them, Izzy was always the one who went out of her way to make things go smoothly. And Bess...” He shook his head. “Let’s just say that Bess got her jollies juggling dynamite.” “Wild child, huh?” “Trouble with a capital T.” A sad smile tipped Freddie’s mouth. “And troubled. Lots of school suspensions, fights, lost jobs. Now that I think about it, the fights were the one thing that made Izzy lose her cool with Bess. Guess I know why now.” “Guess so. Anger and adrenaline can trigger a change, especially without any training or support to fall back on.” Freddie nodded, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were lost in a memory. He seemed smaller than he had moments ago, and Luke’s heart ached for this man who’d become part of his pack. “I’m sorry about Bess,” Luke said. “But you have to know I’d never hurt Isabelle. She’s my mate.” “Maybe not intentionally. But you can’t deny that things are less than kosher around here. Murders, disappearances. Rissa’s wound so tight, she practically squeaks when she walks.” It sucked when Freddie was right. Still, “I’ll protect Isabelle. With my life.” His wolf snarled in agreement, fangs bared. Goddess help anyone who tried to harm her. “I know you’ll do everything you can to protect her physically. But you can’t promise nothing will happen. And being here, around other weres, around you... You’re

pushing all sorts of buttons. The kind that trigger mushroom clouds.” “She’s my mate,” he repeated. How could that be a bad thing? “I know,” Freddie said, and the pity in his eyes made the wolf pace a furious loop in Luke’s head, lip curled, skin twitching. “Whatever the hell is going on, though, it’s dangerous. It might be more than Izzy can mentally handle.” “What do you want?” “You can’t make the choice for her.” “What?” “You might have to let her go.” Inside, Luke and his wolf roared. “If she chooses, you have to. Or it might destroy her,” Freddie said, digging the knife deeper. Never! Stalking across the kitchen, Luke dug both hands into his hair. “You’re asking the impossible.” “I know.” A door opened down the hall and part of Luke’s heart closed, slammed shut by the knowledge that for his mate, he might have to give up everything he’d ever longed for. *** Can I take care of myself? Grrr. Izzy screeched to a halt in front of her bedroom door. Great, now she was even growling like Luke did, the domineering asshole. Obviously, he thought it was his duty to take care of everyone and everything. Including her. Well, she’d be damned if she’d be anyone’s obligation. Besides, depending on someone like that was a good way to get blown out of the sky. She rubbed her gritty eyes. He’d made her breakfast,

damn it. Hell, he’d been...sweet. Kind of. Why couldn’t he just be an ass all the time? Not that her own behavior where he was concerned was anywhere near rational. Last night, she’d tried to convince Freddie he was in danger. Werewolves were absolute predators and could turn on him at any moment. Then she got all hot and bothered by the freaking Alpha wolf. When Luke entered a room, her senses sparked like a live wire. He terrified her with his glowing eyes and rumbling growl. Incited her to violence with his high-handed ways. God help her, he made her want to wrap herself in his strong arms just to breathe him in. For chrissakes, she hadn’t even known him for twentyfour hours. Izzy sighed. Feeling something more than complete indifference for a man was a novel experience. But an Alpha werewolf ranked pretty low on her fantasy date list— somewhere near stalkers, terrorists, and Green Bay Packers fans. And how the hell had she forgotten about subbing for Freddie while he was on his honeymoon? Forgotten. Ha! More like shoved it out of her lousy mind. Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt. She checked her watch. No more time to stomp around, wallowing in doubt and fear. She had a job to do. Hefting her backpack onto her shoulder, she left her room and headed out Freddie’s back door to wait for him by his SUV. The rising sun bathed the towering mountain range to the west in hues of gold, and the sky was a soft pink, brightening to blue. A new coat of snow glittered on everything like fairy dust. On the second-to-last porch step, her leg went out from under her and the world tilted. Strong hands snatched her arms and hauled her upright against a solid wall of warm stone.

Her mouth went dry—not stone. Not a wall either. She looked up into Luke’s clear green eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked. Demanded. She tried to push him away and ignore the little voice in her head telling her to pull him closer. Failed. His clean, grassy scent filled her head. “Yes,” she said, a little breathless. He looked her over. “Are you sure?” “Fine. I just slipped.” Finally, she got a grip on her sanity and shook off his hands. He let her go and she brushed past him to walk to the SUV. No need to turn around to know that Luke followed right on her heels. All the hair on her body had risen as if drawn to him like a static charge. If she kept playing with him, there was no doubt she’d get a nasty shock. Hadn’t she had enough of those? Hadn’t Bess shown her exactly what happens when you get complacent around werewolves? She opened the back door and tossed her backpack on the floor. “Isabelle.” She turned and sucked in a breath, stumbling back against the car. Luke stood less than a foot away, but it was the pain in his eyes that turned her knees to rubber. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning. “I can smell that you’re upset. What is it?” “That’s just creepy, you know. Scenting out my feelings like some bloodhound.” He didn’t respond to her taunt. “Is it your stomach?” He reached for her hand, which was, of course, pressing against her aching middle. “You shouldn’t fly today. I’ll call Sarah out here to give you an exam.” “Screw you,” she said without much heat. Why wasn’t she angrier? If she wanted to be bossed around, she would’ve stayed in the Army.

Luke leaned even closer. His minty breath brushed over her cheek, raising goose bumps. “With pleasure, sugar.” “I meant yourself.” “Not nearly as much fun.” She bit the inside of her cheek to not laugh. “Maybe I’m not being clear. I am not one of your flock, Alpha. I don’t take your orders.” On either side of her, he pressed his arms to the roof of the SUV, caging her with his body. He leaned into her, searing her from chest to thigh. “I told you before, sugar.” He sniffed her hair. “I’m a wolf. Not a dog. Definitely not a sheep.” Her heart pounded. “A predator.” Baring bright white teeth in a slow grin, he made every inch of skin on her body flush with tingling heat. “Hunter,” he agreed. “I love to chase things.” She shivered and his grin widened. “Told you that before, too.” Oh, jeez. The weird buzzing started in her head again. What the hell was happening to her? The back door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows, and Izzy jumped. She’d been so focused on Luke, she’d forgotten where they were. He sighed and eased away from her as Freddie clomped down the porch steps. “Careful there, Dodd,” Luke said, his pupils ringed with gold. “You’ll break something slamming doors like that.” Freddie shot him the kind of sneering glare that started bar fights. “That’s the plan.” He looked at Izzy. “Ready to go?” “Uh, sure,” she said. Face set like stone, Luke said, “Have a good flight.” Then he took a step away from her. Another. As he did, his frown deepened and Izzy felt as if all the heat had leached from her body. She opened the SUV door and slid into the passenger’s

seat. “I’ll see you when you get back,” Luke said. He stroked a finger down her cheek then closed the door, leaving her twitchy and confused. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t raring to fly away. As she buckled her seatbelt, Freddie put the car in gear, shaking his head. She felt Luke’s intense gaze follow them down the driveway. Why did it feel like she’d left something behind?

Chapter Eleven Luke hated “his” office in the pack house. Everywhere he looked in the large, sunny room, he could still see his father. Sitting behind the big white oak desk, poring over financial statements or answering calls. Pacing in front of the French doors that led to the deck overlooking the lake. In the leather chair next to the fireplace, elbows resting on his knees, listening to and advising a packmate. Goddess, Luke missed him. His father had been a giant of a male, literally and metaphorically. He always knew the right thing to say or do, how to put people at ease. Humans and lycanthropes alike came to him for counsel. He’d been everyone’s friend, father, and favorite uncle. No one dared challenge him in a fight. No one wanted to. Who could compete? And here Luke was, trying to fill his shoes. It was ridiculous. Usually he chose to meet with people in his own cabin or to go to them. But today the situation demanded the Alpha meet a threat in his territory. It didn’t matter if Luke felt like a fraud every time he set foot in the room. This house and this office were the seats of power in the Cabinet Mountains, and he would damn well buck up. Seated at the head of the conference table, Luke fantasized about flipping it over. The physical effort and resulting crash would tamp down his fraying temper, but it wouldn’t end this meeting with his Council of Elders any faster. “What about Charlie Picket?” he asked. “Any luck finding out how Branson Development convinced him to

sell all his land to them? I’m having a hard time believing a steady family man would just up and leave town without a word to his children or friends.” Terry Macomber grimaced and stroked his graying goatee. “Since Branson won’t say and no one can find old Charlie either, no. But like I told you before, all the paperwork is in order and legitimate. I checked it myself.” “So are all of Branson’s filings for the site with the Forest Service and the state Department of Environmental Quality. Rissa and I have gone over the impact statements a hundred times. There’s nothing there we can use as leverage to stop him.” “That land is ours. They never should have been able to get this far,” Terry said, glaring at Luke. The unspoken If our Alpha was up to the job came through loud and clear. Luke’s hackles rose, but he suppressed the snarl building in his throat. Protecting the pack and its territory was his primary responsibility. Letting a mining operation be built in what should be untouchable, federally protected lands— their lands—would be a major failure. One his father never would have allowed. “Should-haves never solved a thing,” Mom said. “Right now, we need to deal with what is.” “His kids still haven’t heard from him?” Luke asked. “No. They’re very worried about him, too,” Marianne said. “One of his daughters came into the shop over the weekend. The family is considering hiring a private investigator.” Luke nodded. It always surprised him how much information Rissa’s mother could gather in her corner boutique. Apparently women liked to gossip over clothing purchases. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Stefan Lundgren asked. “That land was just the most convenient place for the mine’s

entrance, not the only one. If Branson hadn’t bought Charlie’s place, they simply would have acquired something else.” Terry harrumphed. Luke scowled at him. “What would you have me do? Kill Branson?” Terry flashed his teeth in a taunting smile, but Stefan laid a restraining hand on the other male. “Of course not,” Stefan said. He eyed Terry with blue eyes turned steel. “That would be foolish.” Another harrumph. Inside, Luke’s wolf stalked, his ears cocked, ready and waiting for a challenge. Stefan cleared his throat. “As frustrating as the situation with Branson Development is, it’s not the reason that Sheriff Ellis is here today, which I think we can agree is more pressing.” Luke gave him a nod of thanks. “Explain to me again,” Marianne said, “why we are being briefed on this.” “Mom, a man was murdered,” Rissa said. “Yes, yes. A tragedy. But that’s a matter for the sheriff, not the pack. Eric Conroy was human.” “Correct,” Ellis said, his face as readable as stone. “But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t killed by one of us. The facts suggest that it was either lycanthropes or humans who are familiar with us.” “How so?” Stefan asked. Ellis opened a file folder and passed around photographs of the crime scene. “The entire area, including the trail in and out of the woods and the body itself, was covered in citronella oil. It was impossible to smell anything else.” Liz Crandall leaned forward in her chair. “What? You couldn’t detect anything useful?” The no-nonsense, fiftysomething grandmother was Luke’s best tracker and head of

the pack’s search-and-rescue team. She followed scent trails in her sleep. Being unable to do what came so naturally to her must be unfathomable. “Correct,” Ellis said again. From behind Luke, where he leaned against the credenza, Dean said, “Never experienced anything like it. I can still smell it. It saturated everything. Made my wolf insane.” Luke’s, too. He’d had a headache since last night. Of course, today’s events weren’t helping matters. He kneaded the knot at the back of his neck. “Conroy’s neck was broken clean through. A strong human with certain skills could have done that. Possibly. But the odds are a shifter did.” Marianne flipped a photo of Conroy’s body to Terry as if she were passing nothing more consequential than a menu. She said, “I heard someone ripped out the man’s tongue.” Ellis cocked his head. “Who told you that?” Last night, they’d all agreed to keep that detail under wraps. Luke slid a look to Dean, who shook his head. He wasn’t surprised someone had leaked the news to Marianne. There were too many pack members involved in the body recovery and investigation, and they all would feel compelled to answer the elders’ questions. He should have ordered their silence. Like a rodeo bull, Terry snorted and huffed. “Basically, Sheriff, you’re telling us you have nothing. A man is dead. Murdered in our territory. And you’re worried about gossip? I thought you were supposed to be some fantastic tracker—even better than Liz. Can’t you follow a physical trail? Where are the people who’ve gone missing in the last six months?” “Please,” Marianne said, her voice dripping with disdain. “They haven’t even found the bastards who killed my Tara.” “Marianne—” Mom said. Marianne slapped her hand on the table, rattling the

coffee mugs. “No, Lena. Your mate—our Alpha—is dead. As is his uncle”—she pointed at Ellis, and then Dean—“and his little sister. It’s been fifteen months. My baby is dead. Where are the heads of her murderers? I don’t care about some human.” *** Luke stood on the front porch as Marianne peeled out of the driveway. The bitter, rusty stench of her anger and grief clung to him. He couldn’t blame her. She was right. The door swung open behind him and Terry stomped out. A mean gleam came into his eyes. “There is a lot at stake, Alpha. Don’t allow yourself to become distracted. Do you think no one noticed your scent when you walked into Rissa’s house yesterday? How you reacted to that slip of a girl?” A nasty, rumbling growl rose in Luke’s throat. “Careful,” he rasped. The urge to rip Terry’s eyes from their sockets to prevent him from ever looking at Isabelle again nearly overwhelmed him. Stefan stepped onto the porch. “Terrence,” he said, his voice hard. Terry’s mouth closed with a snap. He glared at Luke, and then the stupid bastard turned his back on Luke and started walking to his car. Did he think Luke wouldn’t notice the challenge and disrespect, or simply not care? “Terry,” Luke said in a low, dangerous tone. The sharp edge of claws pulsed at his fingertips. “Feel free to challenge me at the next pack run.” His wolf would enjoy the fight. Terry stiffened. After only a few seconds, he lowered his eyes and hurried to his car. “That’s what I thought,” Luke murmured.

Snow and gravel shot across the yard as Terry gunned the engine and raced down the drive. “Terrance doesn’t have what it takes to be Alpha,” Stefan sniffed dismissively, his blond hair swirling in the breeze. “Never has. Never will.” The sour scent of anger filled the air around him. “He’s a junkyard dog.” A grin tugged at Luke’s mouth. “All bark and no bite?” Stefan laughed, and it reminded Luke of the many times he’d heard that sound ring through his house—this house— growing up. Stefan had been one of his father’s closest friends. “Oh, Terry likes to bark and snarl,” Stefan said. “He’s never understood that the most lethal predator is the silent one. But make no mistake, he’ll take a chunk out of you if he can.” Luke’s wolf snorted. “Let him try.” “Good enough.” Stefan clapped him on the back and smiled at someone behind Luke. “Goodbye, Lena. Alpha.” Then he, too, strode off to his car. “How much of that did you hear?” Luke asked his mother when she leaned against the porch rail and looked at him. She shrugged. “All of it.” “Great.” He rolled his shoulders, his skin itching. His beast paced inside him, wanting out. He needed a run, but he had a few more hours of work to do before Isabelle got back. “Wolf scratching at the gates?” Mom asked. She gave him a sad smile. “Your father used to need to shift and run after a meeting with the Council, too. Remember?” “Yeah.” When Luke was young, his dad would take him along. They’d play and hunt. Sometimes they’d stalk Mom while she gardened. She’d always pretended to be surprised when her pup would pounce and mock growl.

Luke sucked in a long breath. Then another. The air smelled of pine, cedar, snow, earth, his mother, and pack— like home. His wolf settled in his skin, like a key turning in a lock. “Ah, that’s better,” Mom said. She touched his arm when he opened his mouth. “Don’t apologize. We’ve been through this. What happened to your father was not your fault. Even if you had been here in town, what could you have done? They were gone before any of us could help them.” The muscles in Luke’s jaw bunched up so tight, he thought they’d snap. They had been through it. It didn’t matter how many times. Luke should have been here in Black Robe, helping his father with pack business, like his father wanted, not in Seattle pursuing his own crap. But for once, he kept his trap shut. It upset his mother whenever they discussed this. Mom sat down in one of the many Adirondack chairs lining the porch. “That meeting wasn’t fun, but you were upset before it even began. Want to talk about it?” Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache roared with a vengeance. “I had just called Chicago. They shuffled me around on hold for almost an hour. None of the little mutts would give me their leadership’s direct lines or answer any of my questions.” If he could have reached through the phone and strangled the unhelpful shits, he would have. “That’s odd. They must still be in transition there. Which, I suppose, is not unexpected.” No, especially since the new leaders had achieved their positions through a bloody coup d’état. At least Isabelle had missed a pack-wide civil war. Still, the bits and pieces he’d gathered so far about her life formed a disturbing picture. “How is Izzy? The goddess picked a good mate for you. I

like her.” A twinkle lit Mom’s eye. “She put Marianne in her place.” “She coldcocked me.” Lena laughed. “I know.” “She’s terrified of us.” And he had no idea what to do about it. Or anything else. “Give her time. Her wolf will sort it out.” He almost laughed at that, except Isabelle’s hatred of her beast really wasn’t funny. “I’m screwing this all up,” he said. “Oh, Luke. You’re not—” “Yes, I am,” he said. “Marianne was right. I haven’t found Dad’s killers. People are missing. Dying. On my watch. I’m failing them. I can’t even feel them.” Mom stood in front of him and touched his arm again. “What do you mean?” Disgust burned like acid in his gut. Jesus, was he really whining like a baby to his mommy? But he’d started down this trail. “The pack. I can’t sense them. Not like I should. Not like Dad did. I look inside”—he knocked his fist against his chest—“but they’re not there any more than they were before. I can’t differentiate them, tell where they are, or how they’re doing. What kind of Alpha can’t sense his pack?” “I don’t believe that,” Mom said. “I’ve seen you at pack runs. Watched your wolf and the other wolves’ reaction to him. They follow him. Easily.” His wolf sniffed and flicked an ear at Luke. “That’s because he isn’t conflicted. You are.” Mom’s pewter eyes swirled with gold. “You think you stepped up because there was no one else. But that’s not true. You did it because you had to. It’s who you are. Alpha. To your core. You can’t change that, Luke.” Even if he might want to.

Chapter Twelve Freddie’s Bell 429 handled like a dream. The flight to Spokane had been beautiful and easy. For the first time since she’d arrived in Montana, Izzy felt relaxed and comfortable. Not at all like when Luke was around. When he looked at her with those intense, green eyes— “All right, Iz?” Freddie asked. Inside, she cringed and hoped he couldn’t tell where her mind had been. “Just enjoying the ride.” “How much farther?” Jenny Erlington, VP of Branson Development, asked over the headset. She’d asked this same question at least four times since they’d gotten into the Bell this morning. Did she think they were going too slow or something? “It’s still about fifteen minutes off to the northeast,” Freddie answered. “I’d like to fly over the whole western edge,” Alan Branson said. “I want to see if there might be another place for an entrance.” Freddie’s jaw tightened. “Sure.” Despite his many attempts to be charming, he was batting a big, fat zero getting either of their clients to chat about their business. Maybe Izzy should give it a try. It’d been her experience that Very Important People liked to brag. “You’re building a mine?” she asked. “Yep,” Branson said. “Substantial veins of silver and copper ore run through the area. We’ve done some test drilling, but the real work will start when we get the final permits.” “The project will be a huge boon to the area,” Jenny said.

“The mine itself will create over one hundred new jobs. Not to mention all the ancillary economic benefits: an increased need for workers to build the roads and housing for our employees, increased demand for the retail businesses and restaurants. The list goes on and on.” “Wow,” Izzy said, with a disgusting amount of gee-golly in her voice. Without looking, she knew Freddie was rolling his eyes. “Your company must be huge to undertake such a big project.” Alan laughed. “Hardly. Jenny and I run a tight ship.” “We have investors,” Jenny added, leaving the “duh” unsaid. Izzy resisted the urge to rub her hands together. Now they were getting somewhere. “Exactly,” Branson said. “We’ve—” A huge boom! shook the Bell, throwing Izzy against the restraints. Alarms shrieked as the helicopter wobbled and spun, losing altitude. She ignored the clients’ screaming and tried to compensate for the rotation, but the rudder pedals wouldn’t budge under her feet. Then, suddenly, the pedals went flat to the floor, completely inoperable. She swore and hauled up on the collective, trying to gain altitude before they slammed into a wall of trees. Beside her, Freddie’s voice was taut as he called in a Mayday. She could hardly hear him over the racket of alarms squawking and the engines groaning like they were dying. She couldn’t spare him a look. All of her attention was focused on the swirling blur of green and gray. Wait. Was that—yes. There. A hole in the trees. Straight ahead. “Going in!” she shouted over the maelstrom. Izzy ignored everything but the feel of the collective and cyclic in her hands, and the fast-approaching opening in the

deadly trees. Then they dropped from the sky.

Chapter Thirteen Luke stepped onto the deck outside his office and took in the view of Black Robe Lake glittering beneath the mountains. Neither the scenery nor the fresh, cold air did anything to assuage his anxiety. For the last few hours, his wolf had been prowling around in his head, teeth snapping. It wasn’t normal for him to be so close to losing control like this. “Damn mating dance,” he grumbled under his breath. He checked his watch. Still time to get in a quick run before Isabelle got back. Unbuttoning his shirt, he went back through the French doors. He slipped the last button free when his computer chimed indicating an incoming video call. Rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, he soothed his wolf. Soon, he promised him. Soon we can run and hunt. “Wyland,” he said as soon as the monitor displayed another face. A young male with bright red hair and strange gold eyes blinked back at him. “Wyland,” he said with a slight nod. “I’m Cameron Beck, Alpha of the Milwaukee River Pack.” Christ. Luke had heard the new Alpha was young, but this guy looked like he might not be legal to drink. “How old are you?” he said. What he really wanted to ask was if the kid was still in high school. Beck rolled his eyes. They looked almost orange in the light of the afternoon sun—more tiger than wolf. Maybe it was a problem with the settings on Luke’s computer? “Old enough, man,” Beck said. “Old enough.” Whatever. “You’re a hard male to get ahold of.”

“Sorry about that,” Beck said, looking anything but apologetic. “I’m told you’re looking for information on two females who may have come from our territory.” “Yes. Isabelle and Elizabeth Meyers. Or Izzy and Bess.” “I’ve got the names. Before I give you any information, tell me—why do you want to know?” “I explained that before.” “Humor me,” Beck said, his weird eyes glinting. Luke swallowed back a growl. “Because Isabelle has turned up here for her foster brother’s wedding to my Luna, and I’m having a hard time understanding why an established pack, especially one as large as Milwaukee River, would allow two female werewolves to grow up in the human foster care system.” “They’d be adults now. This is old news. I’m still not getting what their upbringing is to you.” Luke did growl this time. “Listen, you little—” His wolf pulled him back. The beast had heard or seen something that Luke had missed. Cameron Beck watched Luke with seemingly impassionate eyes, but now that Luke was paying attention, he saw the concern and calculation in the other Alpha’s gaze. “Sorry,” Luke said. “There was a murder here last night. I haven’t gotten much sleep.” “One of your wolves?” “No. A human. He wasn’t involved with our pack but—” He shrugged. “It’s a small town.” Beck studied Luke for a minute, then seemed to come to some conclusion. “All right,” Beck said. “Let’s cut to the chase, ’kay. You want info on a coupla girls from my territory. That makes them mine in my eyes.” He waited out Luke’s growl. “I’ve done my research on you, Wyland, and from everything I’ve heard, you’d do the same if our situations were reversed. I’ve only been Alpha here a short

while. Lotsa shit went down before my time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel some responsibility to the Meyers sisters now. You feel me?” Video chat was a lousy way to get a true read on a man. Better than just his voice, but Luke would give his truck to be able to catch the other male’s scent right now. He studied Beck and took a leap of faith. “Isabelle is my mate.” “Well,” Beck said in a slow drawl, “mazel tov.” He cocked his head like the wolf he was and the gold of his eyes became liquid, glowing. “You know the sister is dead, right?” “I heard. Suicide.” Luke’s stomach churned every time he thought of it and the fact Isabelle had watched her sister kill herself on a video call much like this one. “Are you aware that she killed a man the night she died?” “What? Who?” “I don’t know. I’m getting this secondhand from the human brother. She confessed to Isabelle. I don’t know if she named the guy.” “Shit. Can’t you ask your mate?” Luke sucked in a frustrated breath and released it. “It’s complicated.” Beck shook his head, obviously thinking Luke was nuts. He was probably right. “All right. I’ll have to look into that. No one mentioned cleaning up any scenes.” The other Alpha’s eyes narrowed and the wolf peeked out again. If someone had held out on Beck, they were in trouble now. “I’m sure you’ve heard our change in leadership was...less than peaceful.” “I’ve heard. I also heard the previous leadership transition was a bit rocky, too.” Beck’s bark of laughter echoed in Luke’s office. “Yeah, you could say that. Anyway, during that time some things were lost—not the least of which was lives and their

memories, but records, too.” The breath Luke had been holding left him in a rush. “Fuck.” “There’re no records, in the pack’s archives at least, of an Elizabeth or Isabelle Meyers. I did, however, find one halfburned piece of paper stuck underneath the file cabinet that references Isabelle Elise Randolph and Elizabeth Ann Randolph. Twins, I would guess, going by the birthdates listed. And the timing fits.” Luke barely heard the last thing Beck said because he was still stuck on the females’ last name. “Did you say ‘Randolph’? As in—” “The name of our old Alpha from back in the day,” Beck supplied. “Yeah. The paper I found, it seems to be a request for registration to the Associated Genealogy charts.” Luke fell back in his seat. He couldn’t have been more stunned had Beck actually come through the computer and slugged him in the jaw. The last name by itself didn’t necessarily mean that Isabelle and her sister were close relatives of the deceased pack master, but a registration for the genealogy charts... He dug his fingers into a knot of tension at the back of his skull. Worldwide, lycanthropes maintained a loose association of clans and packs, sometimes coming together in times of great need or to negotiate matters of conflict. In the old days, before the advent of computers made it so dangerous to keep a list of every known shifter, prominent lycanthrope families made sure to register their offspring. Luke had never seen the point. It wasn’t like they had a shifter king or uber-Alpha. It all seemed ridiculous and pretentious to him. But still, lycanthropes from the old families added to the register. If Isabelle’s and Bess’s names were on that registry... “Do you know? Was Randolph their relative?”

“Grandfather,” Beck said. “Which means their father was our Beta. They both died on the same night, you know. The Beta’s mate, too.” The torrent of curses that flowed from Luke’s mouth would have shocked a sailor. Beck simply nodded. “Listen, man, this was all before my time, but I’ve heard stories.” The look of disgust came through just fine on the screen. “There are just a handful of wolves left from that period. I spoke with one of the old grammies. She remembered your girls. “According to Grams, the new Alpha—my uncle, by the way, vicious piece of shit that he was—wanted the whole Randolph family gone. But after the other murdering bastards took out your mate’s parents, they suddenly developed consciences, and decided killing two little girls might be pushing it with the goddess. “The few elders left after the coup argued for the girls to be adopted into another family or at least passed on to another pack since their only surviving relative was a human grandmother. But my uncle didn’t want any contact with them. For anyone in the pack. Under pain of death.” Beck’s orange-gold eyes flashed. “It only took one before the rest fell in line.” “Christ,” Luke said. His wolf paced in frantic circles, worried all over again for their mate. “May the worms feast on the mean fucker’s rotting corpse,” Beck said. “I don’t know what the hell my uncle was thinking, sending two juvenile shifters off with a halfmad human who’d just lost her mate, but that’s not the worst of his atrocities, so...” The young Alpha shrugged and looked away for a moment. Too-familiar shadows haunted Cameron Beck’s eyes— familiar because Luke saw their ilk every time he looked in the mirror.

Yeah, maybe the kid was old enough after all.

Chapter Fourteen Cold seeped through Izzy’s clothes and ran icy fingers down her collar. Damn, her head hurt. What happened? She blinked slowly, getting her bearings, and realized she was in the helo’s cockpit, strapped into her seat, and— “Oh God, Freddie!” Turning her head, she fought back the pain that knifed through her skull, and there he was, still strapped in. Blood oozed from a cut across his cheek. He was looking at her, and his eyes were clear, his lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear a thing over her pounding pulse. She tried to get up. Stuck. Strong fingers, like needle-nose pliers, pinched the back of her arm, and she yelped. Freddie’s grip shifted to her shoulder. “Iz, answer me.” “Goddammit, you sonofabitch. That hurt.” An explosion of rusty laughter burst from him. “Jesus, Iz. You okay?” “Yeah. I think.” She had no idea if that was true. It felt like she’d been hit with a bag of hammers. Alan Branson’s blond head poked into the cockpit from the passenger cabin. “You guys okay?” Freddie asked him. “I’ve had worse being tossed from my horse,” he said. “Jenny has a broken forearm and some scrapes, but otherwise she’s fine.” “Fine?” Jenny shrieked, sticking her head into the cockpit, too. She held her right arm tight to her chest. “Are you crazy? I have a daughter. She’s only six. What is she going to do without me?”

Alan sighed. “I told you, Brooklynn will be all right until we get out of here. Your sitter is not going to just leave her. And your ex will help.” When Jenny had boarded the aircraft this morning, her long, dyed-blond hair had been curled and sprayed. She’d had on impeccable makeup and a feminine pantsuit that looked like it had been made for her. Now, mascara tracks lined her face. Her clothes were wrinkled and a sleeve torn. Her hair could have been styled in a wind tunnel. Yet none of the disarray diminished the frostiness of the look she sent Alan’s way. Izzy was surprised the man didn’t turn to ice on the spot. Alan ignored Jenny and looked around. “Christ, what a mess.” He was right. Freddie’s beautiful helicopter was a complete disaster. Multicolored wires hung loose under the control panel and cracks spiderwebbed the instrument screens. The stench of burnt plastic and hot wires filled the cabin. A large tree limb lay across the nose of the helicopter, crushing it and caving in the fuselage. Right onto Freddie’s legs. “Shit!” Izzy fumbled with her safety harness release, and dizziness rolled over her like a boulder, almost flattening her completely. “Don’t.” Her brother cut her off with a raised hand. “I’m all right, just stuck. One of my legs is broken, but not bleeding. I’ll be fine. Gonna be a little awkward on the dance floor, but Rissa will get her wedding dance.” Izzy opened her mouth to argue, but he shot her a quelling look. She gritted her teeth. “Fine. Radio?” “Tried. It’s toast.” He pointed toward the console. “No cell service either, but the ELT is active.” The impact of the crash had definitely been strong enough to set off the emergency locator transmitter. Search and

Rescue would be coming. Jenny started crying. “Don’t worry,” Freddie called back to her, “our emergency beacon is on. They’ll find us.” He gave Izzy a look she interpreted as I hope it’s sooner rather than later. “They’d better make it snappy,” Branson said. “I have important meetings tomorrow.” Freddie looked like he was praying for patience. “Hey, Alan, think you could look in the rear cabinets for the first aid kit and flares? Maybe find something to pry me out with?” When the developer ducked back into the passenger cabin, Freddie touched Izzy’s chin, lifting it so she met his gaze. “Now give it to me straight, Iz. And don’t tell me you’re okay, ’cause I just watched you turn several shades of green unbuckling your seat belt.” She gave him a dirty look. He gave her a look right back. “Head hurts like hell. Okay?” “Yeah, not surprised.” He nodded toward her side of the aircraft. The upper part of the door, made from shatterresistant glass, was smeared with blood and cracked right in line with her head. She touched the cold glass, then the side of her head, and winced. An egg-sized bump jutted above the right temple. Blood matted her hair and clung to her neck. She wiped at it with her sleeve. Freddie grinned. “Good thing you’re hardheaded.” Her snort of laughter lanced through her skull, leaving little black spots flitting across her vision. Izzy’s stomach did a long, slow roll, and for a few moments she had to concentrate on not throwing up. “Christ. She’s gonna pass out again,” Alan said. She swallowed and slid the straps of the safety harness from her shoulders. “No. No, I’m good.”

“There’s a lot of blood on her pants,” Alan—the big tattletale—said. Yup. Blood, almost black in the diffuse light, stained her pants from mid-thigh to calf. A chunk of aluminum stuck out from the door, pinning her leg to the bent cyclic stick. She pushed at the metal and bent it enough to free her leg. Then she enlarged the tear in the fabric, exposing a long cut that curled down the outside of her knee. It was still bleeding, but it seemed superficial. Big reddish-purple blotches promised spectacular bruising along the outside of the calf and knee, and the inner knee, too, thanks to the cyclic stick. She gave the joint a tentative flex and ground her chattering teeth in agony. But it moved and nothing seemed broken. “It’ll work. Stop with the fret-face,” she told her brother. Outside, snow blanketed everything. The helicopter had come to rest angling down a slope. No buildings or power lines, not even a smoke trail marred the vast, steel blue sky. It would’ve been beautiful, except for the tree limbs scattered like Tinker toys, sheared off from torn-up pines and giant cedars. Izzy sucked in a breath as the size of those massive trunks registered. They should be dead. “Should we switch places, Izzy?” Alan asked, brandishing a wrench as long as her forearm. “I’m going to need some room to pry Freddie loose.” “Yeah. I’m gonna set out the flares and check the damage,” she said. “Are you sure you’re up to that?” “I’m okay.” The cockpit door on her side was warped and wouldn’t open. She had to climb over the center storage console to

get into the passenger cabin, which only caused terrible pain. Nothing close to what she’d grown up with, thanks to her grandmother, so like she’d said, she was good to go. The wind peppered her face with powder and stirred up snow devils that danced around the outside of the crumpled helicopter. As twilight fell, shadows seemed to rise from the crags and hollows of the terrain. Wading through the deep drifts sucked. Snow filled her boots, and she really should’ve duct-taped her torn pants before coming out. God, it was cold. If the rescue team didn’t arrive soon, there was a huge risk of hypothermia. She set flares around the perimeter of the crash site. What a clusterfuck. Two of the four main rotors had snapped off. One leaned against a huge cedar about twenty feet in front of the helicopter. She had no idea where the other was. But, as expected, the tail had suffered the most. The left stabilizer dangled, snapped from the boom like a twig. Details were hard to make out in the flares’ red light, but as she directed her flashlight over the tail, she spotted black marks on the boom and both stabilizers. Shit. Sometimes she hated being right. Muscling open one of the rear doors, she levered her butt onto the floor, and slid in before pushing to her feet. Jenny huffed and moaned, pulling a silver space blanket tighter around her shoulders as Izzy shut the door. Izzy limped to the front of the helicopter and over the center console, watched Alan work to free her brother. Crammed into her side of the cockpit, he jammed a branch under a portion of the console and grunted with effort. There was a crack! as he bent it back, breaking a large chunk of plastic off the bottom, freeing Freddie. Her brother hissed, then groaned in relief. Then, “Fuckinghellfuckingsonofabitch.” Izzy leaned over his shoulder to look at his leg. He pulled

up his pant leg and like he’d said, no blood. Bruised and swollen below the knee, but it looked okay. She’d splint it while they waited for rescue. She raised her brows at him. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” A lopsided smile was tossed her way. “It’s all good. Only hurts when my heart beats.” “Idiot.” “Jerk.” Alan rolled his eyes. “So, what happened?” he asked Izzy. She looked out the cracked windshield, watching the snow twist and churn in dizzying swirls while she considered what to say. Over the years, she’d dealt with just about every in-flight complication possible, both on simulators and in the air. She’d flown in high winds, lightning, and rain. Experienced all manner of mechanical problems from lack of fuel to unresponsive controls and engine failure. She’d wrestled downdrafts, updrafts, and concussion waves from mortars. Been under fire and even survived a direct RPG hit to the tail of her Blackhawk in Iraq. All that experience told her the same thing, and it made her blood run cold. “Tail rotor’s gone,” she said at last. “The whole fin, too.” “Yeah, well, those trees are a bitch. One of the mains is over there.” Freddie pointed out his left window to the long blade lying against the tree. She shook her head. “There are scorch marks all the way up to the stabilizers.” Freddie’s eyes went wide. “What?” “What does that mean?” Alan asked. “There was an explosion of some kind,” she said. “That’s what the initial shock was. I lost control right after that.” “I don’t understand,” Jenny said. Though pale and

shaking with cold and pain, she still threw a good glare. “I thought this was a new helicopter. Don’t you people service these things?” “Of course we do. We don’t send anything up that isn’t air-worthy,” Freddie said, displaying a rare flash of temper. “A short could cause engine failure in the tail rotor,” Izzy said. “But there’s no fuel back there. Nothing that could explode.” She looked into Freddie’s grim eyes. His single nod confirmed her thoughts. “At least not without help.” “Help?” Alan straightened so fast his head hit the ceiling. “What do you mean?” “She means,” Freddie said, his voice low and rough, “that we were sabotaged.”

Chapter Fifteen The whining thump of the helicopter’s rotors grated on Luke’s fraying nerves. His sensitive ears rang despite the protective headset the pilot, Dev Crandall, handed him as soon as he’d hopped on. He didn’t know how Isabelle could stand it. “Team 1 has reached the first checkpoint,” Dev said. His mate, Liz, led that team. “There’s no sign of them, yet.” Luke knew Dev was receiving communications from Ellis at the Search and Rescue command post. All information from the various S&R teams and local government agencies would be funneled through there. “The Forest Service rangers’ bird is up and searching the northern section. A team from Spokane is hitting the west. They just dropped their ground team.” “Are we sure they crashed?” Please, goddess, Luke prayed. Let this be a mistake. A look of pity crossed Dean’s face. “They should have been back three hours ago. Freddie called Rissa right before they left Spokane. He would have let her know if they were stopping anywhere else. We’ve confirmed with the tower there that they lifted off a few minutes later.” He laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “They’re not responding to radio calls or their cells.” A crash. Luke looked out the window at the darkening sky, the dense forest, and high mountain peaks below. Never had his territory looked more forbidding and deadly. So few. There were so few places a helicopter could safely land. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe it was something else? Maybe Freddie had decided to take his

sister somewhere Luke couldn’t find her? That would hurt, but it’d mean they were okay. Jesus, he needed them to be okay. But no. There was no way Freddie would worry Rissa like this. “Oh, Christ.” His wolf howled and he couldn’t keep the echo of it from his own throat. Dean squeezed his shoulder again, the look in his eyes made Luke’s stomach clench in cold fear. “Rissa said she could feel Freddie through their mating bond. He’s hurt.” It took several seconds for Luke to finish running through every swear word he knew. “Then why aren’t we flying directly to their location?” he asked. “I thought all the Towneses’ aircrafts had those locater devices. Don’t we have them on GPS?” “Their emergency transmitter isn’t broadcasting,” Rissa’s brother-in-law, Rick Macomber, said. “Doesn’t make any sense,” Dev said. “Those things are designed to turn on automatically in a crash.” Luke’s wolf howled and raged, making it nearly impossible to keep his skin. Isabelle’s all right, he told his beast. She had to be. They’d just met. This couldn’t be all the time they were allowed. Keep it together. We can’t help her if we panic. Outside, the sun set, leaving the sky a dark gray. In minutes the hazy twilight would fade to black. It would be hours before the moon rose enough to help the human searchers. Good thing Luke and his teams weren’t human. Isabelle, Freddie, and their two passengers needed all the help they could get. The forecast called for heavy snow tonight, with temperatures dipping into the teens. “They’ll need shelter,” he said. “Freddie’s bird is a good aircraft,” Rick said. “I should know. I help him service it. It passed every check this

morning, Alpha.” Dev twisted in his seat to look at Luke. “Freddie’s a helluva pilot. And if that sister of his is anything like him— well, you just hold on to hope, Alpha. They’ll figure it out.” Luke gave a tight nod. “How long until we reach our drop point?” “’Bout two minutes.” He nodded again and stripped. Naked, he leapt from the helicopter before its landing skids even touched down on the high plateau. Dean, Rick, and the other three searchers dropped out the side door. Dev called out to Luke, “The winds are picking up and the forecast is crap. I’ll look as long as I can, but if I’m not careful, you’ll be out here searching for my hairy ass next.” The words were flippant, but Dev’s eyes were dead serious. Luke could order Dev back out, knew the male would come without question. “Don’t give Liz a reason to skin me,” he said instead. Dev snorted. “Good hunting.” As the helicopter lifted off, a wave of power washed over Luke as the others changed, shifting from human to wolf. In their beast forms, they were larger than ordinary wolves, almost twice the size, generally keeping the weight of their human form. Dean was the largest male in the pack and his wolf weighed over two hundred fifty pounds. Normally, Luke’s dominance and tight control meant he had to mentally untie the restraints that bound his beast within. But today, with his mate’s life on the line, his wolf stood poised at the gates, vibrating with frantic need and purpose. The wolf burst, instead of flowed, from Luke’s skin. Bones twisted and reshaped, fangs and claws erupted, and fur stormed over his hide. He barely registered the pain. Isabelle needed them. Easing back, he ceded control to the wolf.

As soon as the metamorphosis ended, Wolf rose and shook himself, settling his thick black fur. Beta, a dark, warm presence on his right, nudged him with a shoulder. Freezing wind whistled over the hills and through the trees. Branches creaked and pine needles rustled. It didn’t bother Wolf. He had thick fur and a strong hide. But his mate did not. He had smelled the sickness on her human skin. She could not call on her lupine strength. The mountain night would be trouble for her. Many scents hung in the air. Spruce and pine, snow and bird. The stink from the flying machine. He sneezed then cocked his ears, listening to the forest, listening for things that didn’t belong. Moving easily on swift paws, they fanned out into the forest. Tonight, they hunted quarry they could not lose.

Chapter Sixteen “These seats are so uncomfortable,” Jenny whined for the third time in less than an hour. Yeah, because that was the important issue here, not the fact that someone had sabotaged their helicopter. Why weren’t the civilians more shocked at the idea? “Who’s after you, Branson?” she asked. To hell with Alan. Her brother could have been killed. Werewolves were lethal and vicious, but she had a hard time believing Marianne would bomb her own helicopter. Not that Izzy thought the arrogant bitch gave a shit about the human passengers or even her almost-son-in-law. Helicopters, however, were crazy expensive. Branson’s eyes bugged. “What?” He huffed an unconvincing laugh. “No one. Why would someone want to hurt me?” “I dunno. You tell me. Money? Business deal gone wrong? Jealous lover?” “That’s ridiculous,” Jenny said. “Everyone loves Alan.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Right.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Branson said. “I’m sure this was just an accident.” “An accident.” Was the guy delusional, or did he think they were that gullible? “Right,” Freddie said. The wind whistled through the helo, stirring up the scents of metal, fried circuits, and fear-ripened sweat. And blood. Pinpricks swept over her body, starting at the top of her spine and tingling outward. Something more horrible than nausea roiled through her stomach.

Oh God. They smell...delicious. “Are you all right?” Branson asked. “You’ve gone pale as paste.” Though she was less than a foot away from him, his voice sounded tinny and distant. “Izzy? Is it your head?” Freddie asked. “Low blood sugar’s all,” she mumbled. Where was her backpack? There! She lurched across the cabin to her bag. Unzipping the front pocket with trembling hands was tough. She pulled out a protein bar and ripped it open with her teeth. Hell, at this point she’d eat the wrapper. She felt the weight of the others’ gazes on her. They looked at her with bemused or—hello, Jenny—disgusted expressions. Yeah, she had bad table manners, but so what? Better she tear hunks of chocolate and peanuts apart than them. A cramp gripped her stomach and she slid to the floor, hugging a knee to her chest. How long would it take Search and Rescue to get here? “I need to use a tree,” Branson said. He wrestled open the damaged side door, and fresh, cold air surged into the cabin. Izzy drank it in. Even the flares’ chemical stink was better than ripe human. She closed her eyes, letting it wash over her. A gust of wind rocked the helo. She caught a scent, and every muscle in her body locked up tight. She burst up from the floor and pressed her face to the window. In the shadows of the woods, something lurked underneath one of the towering trees. “Fred, in the trees. Two o’clock. What do you see?” Jenny squeaked. “What? What is it?” “Not one of ours,” he said with a surety Izzy didn’t understand, but believed. “Call Branson back.” Izzy grabbed her backpack and groped for her Beretta M9.

“Alan!” Jenny screamed. “Alan, come back! Hurry!” Branson emerged from the woods, trudging into the ring of red light cast by the flares. Flickering shadows stretched from his body like wraiths. Something close to the ground moved in a sinuous slide. Freddie pounded on the window. “Branson, run!” Branson’s head snapped up. About thirty feet away, a pair of eyes gleamed in the dark, reflecting the flare’s red light. An enormous cougar looked directly at Izzy and snarled. Then it leapt toward Branson. Izzy’s hands flew up, flipped off the Beretta’s safety. Branson screamed, and Izzy fired twice. The scent of cordite burned her nose and her ears rang from the explosive sound. The cracked cockpit glass posed no barrier to the 9mm rounds. Still, she knew she’d missed even before Branson turned to run. Izzy exploded into motion, slamming her shoulder into the damaged side door—once, twice, three times—before it popped open enough for her to squeeze through. Wind and snow pelted her face. A shrill, wet shriek rent the night, chilling her right to her marrow. Hobbled by her wounded leg, and the deep drifts, she stumbled toward the front of the helicopter. She found Branson lying facedown in the snow, his hands twitching feebly. Out here, the beast’s smell was stronger, leaving no doubt. Shifter. The filthy were savaged Branson’s back, trying to get past his coat collar to his vulnerable neck. She chanced a shot at its flank, and hit it high up near the left hip. It turned and snarled. “Get off of him!” She fired again, a running shot that

missed as the cougar leapt toward her. Another shot, blind, the gun angled upward, while she dove toward Branson. Pain raced like fire over her waist as the cat’s claws raked her. She landed on her side, a few feet from Branson, air whooshing out of her lungs. The giant predator prowled toward them, gold eyes burning in its tawny face. She fired again and blood burst in a small plume from the were’s shoulder. Keeping her gun on the growling shifter, she grabbed Branson’s shoulder and shook him. “Come on, Alan, you’ve got to get up. Now!” Though how they’d get past the cougar crouching between them and the helo, she didn’t know. The shifter didn’t seem the least bit impressed with her gun. Izzy had shot it twice and barely injured it. In fact, as she stared, the wound in its shoulder closed before her eyes. Goddammit. Who the hell thought to bring silver bullets to a wedding? “These rounds may not be silver, but I bet they’ll hurt like a mofo if I getcha in the eye, you stinkin’ hairball,” she said, aiming for the beast’s head. The were curled its lip, baring finger-length fangs. It jumped toward her in a breathtaking burst of speed. Dead. This was how she was going to die. Just like her grandmother had always said. While it was still in midair, something rammed the cougar from the side, sending it flying like an all-star lineman taking down a slow-footed quarterback. Their savior planted itself between her and the cougar, threw its head back, and howled. A short, high-pitched, vibrating call that resonated through Izzy’s bones and straight into her soul. “Rally cry,” she whispered, stirred by vague memories of other wolves in another forest.

Any other time, that sound would have driven fear into her heart. Now, all she could think was, Reinforcements. Hoo-ah! Freddie shouted from the helo. It was drowned out by Jenny’s screams, but as the blond wolf turned its glowing gaze on Izzy, she knew without a doubt what her brother had said: Rissa. The cougar rose from the snow, and Rissa shook, fluffing out her pale fur as if straightening her hemline. The two shifters prowled in opposing arcs. Each step the cougar took, Rissa countered, staying between it and Izzy. The growl rumbling from Rissa’s throat would send a squad of Special Ops guys running for extraction. Time to go. Izzy turned Branson over and grabbed him under the arms. She froze. “Oh God.” His eyes stared blindly up at her. A horrible gash had ripped open his belly, and grayish-pink intestines glistened in the flare light. The grotesque sight made her skin crawl like she’d been stung by hornets. She wanted to scratch it, rip it from her body. Anything to stop the tight, rippling pain. The cougar screamed, jerking Izzy’s attention from Branson’s fatal injuries. The were launched itself at Rissa. She reared up and met the killer in the air. They rolled over and over in the snow, sending up puffs of powder, while Izzy scrambled out of the way. The flickering flare light combined with their incredible speed created an eerie strobe-like effect of claws, fangs, and snarling muzzles. They sprang apart, the wolf still standing as a barrier between Izzy and the cougar. It shrieked, blood dripping from a nasty gash on his face. Rissa hadn’t escaped unscathed either. But despite the dark patches marring the fur on her belly and foreleg, she stood tall and ready. Rissa barked several times at the cougar in an unmistakable get-the-hell-outta-here way. A smug, grin-like

expression crossed the cat’s face, sending a chill up Izzy’s spine. She didn’t question the instinct. She checked her gun’s magazine to see how many bullets were left. Rissa’s head whipped to the left, and another cougar exploded out of the trees. “No!” Freddie screamed as both cats tackled Rissa. His terror-filled voice speared Izzy’s heart and she scrabbled through the snow toward the snarling animals. She fired at the first cougar that rolled within range, but wasn’t even sure she hit it. Then what felt like a sledgehammer rammed her gun hand, knocking the Beretta from her numb grasp. Get up. Get up! Slipping in the snow, Izzy kicked out at a cougar as it slashed at her. It snarled in her face, its hot breath spattering her with spittle. She put up her hands in a useless gesture to ward off the huge beast and suddenly it was gone, bowled over by Rissa. Never in a million years would Izzy have pegged a werewolf as her ally, but she knew Rissa was doing everything in her power to protect them from the cougars. Izzy’d be damned before she let her brother’s fiancée become a cat toy. Where the hell is my gun? With no time to search the trampled snow, she grabbed one of the many broken branches littering the ground, and raced to Rissa’s side. One cougar clung to her back, while the other snapped at her neck. Streaks of dried blood trailed down that one’s fur. Branson’s killer. Here, kitty, kitty. Izzy hefted the stout branch like a baseball bat and swung for a homer. Splinters pierced her palms, but the solid hit to the bastard’s jaw lifted him off his paws and sent him tumbling. The killer didn’t even have the grace to appear dazed

before it rolled to its feet and shook the snow from its tawny coat. Asshole. Its snarl promised pain. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. It leapt at her. There was no way to outrun it or hide. She pulled her last weapon just as the were’s enormous paws hit her chest with the force of a Mack truck. Snow offered little cushion as she slammed into the ground, the cougar’s weight driving the last of the air from her lungs. Hot liquid rushed over her hand and the cougar roared in her face. It seemed as surprised as Izzy when she pulled the silver knife from between their bodies. Blood ran down the beautiful etched blade Bess had given her as a gift for flight school graduation. The monster shrieked and snapped at the hand holding the knife. She jerked it out of the way and just managed to get her left arm up to protect her face. Then she screamed in agony as fangs sank into her forearm to the bone. She stabbed the were in the throat. Again. And again. Blood sprayed and the cougar fell into the snow. The giant cat lay there, unmoving, blood oozing from its neck. Izzy stared at it, waiting for it to jump up and attack. Was it dead? She shuddered. Would it change back into a man now? A throaty rumble like a Harley engine jolted her into action. She jumped to her feet and choked back a scream from the pain in her punctured left arm. The other cougar stood over Rissa, growling, a huge paw pinning her muzzle. Izzy threw a stick at it. “Hey!” The stick bounced off the were’s flank, hurting it about as much as a fly would. She grabbed another. “Hey! You! Garfield. Yeah, you. Over here.” When the cougar turned to look at her charging toward him, it saw its partner bleeding in the snow. Its cry of rage knocked her off her feet.

“Oh, shit.” The cougar covered the distance between them in two bounds. Izzy threw herself back and it sailed over her head, missing her by a hairsbreadth. Moving on pure instinct, she hustled toward Rissa, snapping up a sturdy stick as she went. Glowing gold eyes narrowed in menace, the cougar advanced on them. Rissa growled and Izzy swallowed the lump of fear wedged in her throat. For a fleeting moment, she worried about allowing a werewolf at her back, but she’d made her choice. They were in this together. Izzy shifted to stand next to Rissa. “Get outta here, asshole,” she told the cougar. She raised the knife in what she prayed was a confident way. Bravado was pretty much all she had left. An inferno raged in her arm, and her legs shook from more than just the frigid temperature. It took every ounce of strength she had to hold the branch high. The werecougar glided toward them, not hesitating for even a second. Rissa’s huge head brushed against Izzy’s leg and she stifled a shudder. It was all she could do to remain standing over the wolf. Tried-and-true instincts railed at her to get the hell away, but she ground her boots into the snow, bracing herself for the cougar’s attack. Don’t watch, Freddie. The cougar slid to the right, looking for an angle of attack. Rissa shifted, too, her muscles quivering, keeping the cat in her sights. Suddenly, three huge shadows flowed out of the woods behind the Bell and growled. Werewolves. The cougar spun and hissed at the newcomers as an electric sense of awareness pricked Izzy’s skin. Several more wolves emerged from the trees in front of the helicopter, led by an enormous black one with glowing green-gold eyes.

Her heart blasted into overdrive. Luke.

Chapter Seventeen Wolf hurdled a clump of underbrush into a clearing. The air burst with scents: gun powder and smoke, blood and death, lycanthrope and Mate. Bleeding and furious, she stood over Luna, guarding her from an unknown werecougar. She fought not with tooth and claw but a stick and silver knife. Blood covered her, head to foot. Rage boiled in his blood. These rogues hunted in Wolf’s territory. Hunted his people. Now the cat dared bare its teeth at Mate? Wolf snarled, savage and loud. His own packmates cringed. Even Beta lowered his head in submission. Wolf stalked the cougar. It snapped and hissed. The pack closed in. The rogue charged Mate and Luna, and sailed over their heads, surprising the wolves behind them. He barreled through the line, knocking two wolves into the brush. Without being commanded, five wolves pursued their prey. Wolf twitched with desire to lead the hunt, but not even vengeance could make him leave Mate. Fear flowed from her like fog. He would curl around her until it faded. “Stay back!” she shouted, holding her weapons high. Daphne, Luna’s littermate, approached. She jumped back from a sweep of the stick, and bared her teeth. “Just try me, bitch,” Mate said. Inside his head, Luke laughed. Wolf sidled closer, and Mate’s gaze leapt to him. Emotions ran over her face like clouds in a stormy sky and colored her scent: fear, recognition, relief. Satisfaction warmed him. She knew him.

Beta’s high howl sang through the night, calling the Pack. The rescue team should be close, Luke said. Wolf agreed, having heard the roar of snowmobile engines during the hunt. They needed to leave, to remove the dead cougar before he changed back into his human skin. But the smoky cloud of terror surrounding Mate grew. Don’t leave her. Wolf snorted. He would not leave his mate ever again. Look what happened when Luke let her get on that flying cage. “Rissa, baby! Are you okay?” Luna’s mate called. Shaking, Luna limped to the broken machine. “Get away from them!” Mate screamed. She stumbled toward the helicopter. Bitter pain radiated from her small body, but she did not stop. Rick stood on his hind legs, his nose pressed to a hole in the window next to Luna’s mate. “It’s all right, Iz,” Luna’s mate said. “Jenny fainted. She’s out cold.” Sam, a young male, nosed the human on the ground and growled low. Death? Wolf sniffed the air. Branson, Luke said. Now Wolf growled, too. Mate yelled again, swinging the branch wildly and pointing the bloody knife. “No! Get back.” Wolf commanded the others to move away. He did not. Instead, he stepped within striking distance of the stick. Blood dripped from Mate’s arm and the stick wobbled. “Please,” she said, her voice a cracked whisper. Luna’s mate tried to speak to her again, but she only shook her head and leaned weakly against the side of the helicopter. Both weapons fell to the ground. Her eyes closed and she pressed her bleeding arm against her abdomen. A grimace of pain contorted her features, and she curved like a

possum. The sour metal scent of illness and injury covered her. His human became frantic calling to her, but she couldn’t understand them yet. She wasn’t pack. Wolf whined, his heart pounding. He licked her chin, putting every bit of strength he had into willing her to open her eyes. She jerked away and fell to her knees with a moan. Her lids fluttered, then opened wide. Her eyes shone like the afternoon sun. Then, she screamed. *** Blinding pain lanced through Izzy’s head. Her guts churned. She fell to her hands and knees, screaming, as her skin writhed. The ground should feel cold. She should be shivering. But she was burning up. Sweat dripped from her face and soaked her clothes. The black wolf—was it really Luke?—licked her cheek, his tongue rasping, crackling across her skin like lightning. She was being electrocuted, every nerve sizzled and sparked. Before she could draw a breath to tell him to stop, her lungs seized and she slumped against his bulk. His whine grated on her ears like broken glass. A snarl thundered inside her head and threatened to shatter her skull. She shook hard and collapsed into the snow. Her heart hammered like it was ripping free from her chest. Bones snapped and ligaments popped. Please, God, make this stop. Izzy’s muscles tightened until she felt like a soda can crushed in a meaty fist. The burning heat exploded into an inferno of agony as her skin split, jawbones shattered, gums ruptured. She was drowning in blood, suffocating in her own clothes. Dying took eons.

*** Through his wolf’s eyes, Luke stared in shock at the quivering lump of rags on the ground. Isabelle had shifted. Damn the night to hell. He’d never seen anyone change like that. It hadn’t flowed over her like water rippling over rocks or even the sudden explosion of lightning, violent and beautiful. It had come in fits and starts, tearing, devouring. Her agonized cries would haunt him forever. Is she alive? he asked his wolf, terrified of the answer. Carefully, so carefully, his wolf nosed the shredded pile of torn and bloody clothes. The sour scents of fear, blood, and death drowned the wolf’s senses in horror. Freddie screamed for Isabelle, pounding on the ruined glass. “Damn you, Luke! What the fuck did you do?” The accusation hit Luke like a blow to the face. He’d been trying to soothe Isabelle, whispering to her, offering his strength. But her presence had been thick and muted, like trying to speak through a wall of mud. In his panic, he’d mentally pounded at that barrier. Had his clumsy attempts at communicating with her triggered her first change? His wolf paced. Our fault. Luke remembered his first shift. It had hurt like hell, and he had been prepared for it. Still in wolf form, Dean and the others circled her, whining with anxiety. She twitched and jerked within the prison of her clothes, too scared and disoriented to free herself. With her teeth, Daphne pulled at Isabelle’s jacket sleeve. When Dean and Rick moved in to help, Luke’s wolf bared his fangs at them. They backed off in a hurry. Together, his wolf and Daphne tore away the fabric confining Isabelle’s wolf. She thrashed as the clothes fell away, revealing a small

silver-and-white werewolf. Beautiful, his wolf said. Isabelle’s wolf staggered to her feet, threw her head back and howled. The high, piteous sound froze them all. Every shifter for miles would cringe in sympathy at the pain in it. Unable to stand the distance between them, his wolf nuzzled her blood-matted head and licked her muzzle, trying to offer some small token of comfort. She leapt back and the expression on her face was plain, even in wolf form: total and complete shock. Wide, glassy, gold eyes darted around. Her breath burst from her like a machine gun. Have to go, Dean said with a mental shove that was practically a scream. His wolf agreed. He walked slowly toward their panicking female, lifting and placing each paw with deliberation. She watched his every move as if fascinated. Good. Pay attention, little wolf. His wolf ducked a bit, then raised his chin, maintaining eye contact with Isabelle’s wolf. He let his mouth fall open and tongue loll out, a doggy grin on his face, eyes open and happy. He didn’t have to fake it either. Despite the situation —and it was a crappy one—Luke felt his wolf’s joy radiate through their entire being. Their mate was alive, and his wolf was ecstatic to see Isabelle’s lupine counterpart in the flesh. Tail wagging in a quick, sweeping rhythm, his wolf paused in front of her. He let her take him in: his size, the aura of power radiating from him. He let a bit of their pack magic leak out to brush over her in a light caress. A shiver ran through her, rippling her gorgeous coat. Good, easy now, Luke said to his wolf. Nice and easy. Letting a little more power out, his wolf sent her a message, barely a whisper. Friend, he told her. Friend.

When she tilted her head at him, obviously listening, his wolf tried more. This time he let his concern and worry roll out. Her ears twitched and she sniffed the air. Yes, sweetheart, that’s it, let him in. Come now. Friends. Come with friends. His wolf looked to Dean and the others. Daphne and Rick already had Rissa limping toward the tree line. With a flick of his head, Luke’s wolf sent his packmates on. The small white wolf swayed in the wind, eyes wide. Wolf inched closer until he could brush her neck with his muzzle. She shied from him and Luke held his breath. But his wolf was patient. With confidence, he moved alongside their mate again, and lightly hip-checked her. He nodded his head at the tails of the retreating werewolves. Isabelle’s wolf looked back at the helicopter and the injured humans within. As she stared, Luke saw a dangerous light come into her eyes. His wolf bumped her again, trying to redirect her focus. She glanced at him but leaned toward the helicopter. Nostrils flared as she scented the air. Luke knew what she would smell. Blood and fear. To her newly heightened senses: prey. Before she could do anything stupid that would feed into her fear that she was a monster, his wolf barked. She hopped away and flattened her ears to her head. Stepping in front of her again, he blocked her view of the injured humans with his much larger body. He jerked his head toward the trees. She didn’t move. He rubbed his muzzle against hers, licked her face, and filled her senses with his scent and touch. Finally, she blinked, her eyes glazing over again, and leaned toward him. When her front paw touched the ground, she stumbled and whined. Blood matted the pale fur of her foreleg, but

they couldn’t wait. There were humans coming who had no idea that werewolves lived among them. Gently, Luke’s wolf guided Isabelle out of the clearing. He was careful to never move more than an inch or two away from her, surrounding her with his scent. As they entered the shelter of the trees, she looked back at the helicopter once more before turning to lean on him as they slid into the darkness. Dean drifted out of the trees and joined them. Between her injuries and unfamiliarity with her form, Isabelle moved with the awkward gait of a newborn colt. Her rear leg dragged through the snow and she whimpered with every misstep. There were many. How would she make it to the pickup area? It was situated on top of a plateau. To get there, they’d have to climb a steep trail. There was no way Isabelle could do it. She was already panting like a hunted doe. We have to go to Haven, Luke told his wolf. The pack’s hidden den offered safety and security, and didn’t require mountain-goat-level climbing skills to get there. But it was still several miles away through deep snow. Please, goddess, let her make it.

Chapter Eighteen Biting wind lashed Izzy’s raw, vulnerable nerves. The dawn’s anemic gray light scorched her eyes and drilled into her sloshing brain. Her hands and feet—no, she had paws now. Paws. The frigid cold made them feel like they were on fire, and each step left a bloody print in the pristine snow. Her bones had turned to brittle stone. Another strong gust might crack her apart to disintegrate on the wind. While she felt everything, she controlled nothing—not where she moved or what she looked at. She was locked in a cold, dark room, huddled in the corner of her own mind. All her life, Izzy had ignored, denied, or flat-out quashed the other voice in her head. Since Bess’s death, it had been getting harder and harder to reject the thing she knew lived inside her. Now, she’d let it out, let it take over. And it was mad. Incensed. An electric sense of menace pulsed around her. There were no words or images, just the unmistakable impression of vengeance. What the hell had she done by letting this thing assume power? Pain flashed like lightning as she—they?—faltered and fell. Luke, in wolf form, nosed her face and neck, nudged her side, urging her to get up. Every time her strange body stumbled, Luke and a huge brown wolf barked, pushed, and even dragged her by the scruff of the neck. They never allowed rest. Now there was more barking. The sound raked over her eardrums, which must be nothing but bloody tatters. More pushing and shoving.

Dear God, why wouldn’t this hell end? The snow gave way, replaced by something hard that flayed the last shred of flesh from her paws. She would have screamed but she had no voice. No air to give the cry. A strong grip tightened around her, lifting her from the torturous ground. “Shhh, sugar. You’ve made it. You’re safe.” Safe. Had she ever been that? *** Haven had never looked so good. Luke took his first steady breath when the sanctuary’s thick stone walls stood between his mate and the wind and snow. Watching her suffer through each and every agonizing step—hell, every breath—ripped his fucking guts out. Her strength and determination filled him with awe. He barely noticed the sentries guarding the den’s perimeter, or his packmates who swarmed them at the entry. With Isabelle shuddering in his arms, he sprinted toward the hot springs in the middle of their den, kicking open the heavy door that blocked his way, splintering the frame. He shot into the humid chamber and headed straight for the gently bubbling pool at the far end. As he descended the first carved step into the water, a beat of magic tickled along the bare skin of his arms and chest. “Get Sarah in here, now!” he yelled to several wide-eyed people as his mate started shifting again. “No, Isabelle, don’t.” But it was too late. Too weak and inexperienced to remain in wolf form, her body reverted to the shape it knew best. He should have expected it. She’d gone completely limp the second he had lifted her from the ground, unconscious immediately.

Terrified, he sat on the edge of the pool and rocked her as she changed, praying she would survive. The power of her shift was so weak, he wouldn’t have felt the magic if he wasn’t holding her in his arms. A minute later, Luke held an ice-cold, naked female. A very still female. Her head fell back over his arm and he stared at her chest, listening hard. She wasn’t breathing. “Sarah!” he roared as his wolf keened. Luke slid down into the water. It felt boiling on his chilled skin. His mate didn’t react to the high temperature or to him shaking her and screaming her name. He fit his mouth over hers and breathed for her. One breath. Two. Nothing. Again. Three. Four. Please, goddess. Five. Dean charged into the room with Sarah on his heels. He skidded to a stop at the opposite side of the pool, swearing loudly. Sarah swore, too, and jumped across the pool, landing in the water next to him with a giant splash. Before Sarah even touched Isabelle, her head flew back and she gasped a wheezing breath and started coughing. Thank God. Thank you, oh, sweet Jesus, and the goddess, and every other deity in the universe. Eyes huge, wild, and unseeing, Isabelle fell back against his chest, shaking like an angry rattler’s tail. She breathed shallowly, her lips and pale skin blue and mottled with cold. “What do you need, babe?” Dean said to his mate, setting her heavy, toolbox-like medical kit on the lip of the pool. Sarah didn’t answer as Isabelle’s eyelids closed. She took Isabelle’s wrist in one steady hand and placed the other on her neck, feeling for a pulse. “Pretty sure she has a concussion,” Luke offered, feeling totally helpless as Sarah examined Isabelle with quiet

intensity. “She vomited on the way here.” Nodding, Sarah gently pried open Isabelle’s eyelids, one after the other. “Dean, she’s in shock. We need an IV.” The medical kit clattered open as his Beta set to work. A soft, warm breeze of power brushed Luke’s arm as Sarah used her abilities to check over his mate in a manner you wouldn’t find in any normal hospital. Better than an Xray, MRI, and barrage of diagnostic tests combined, lycanthrope healers were born, not made. He’d seen them heal cuts, mend broken bones, and repair damaged organs all with the innate magic gifted to them by the goddess. But there were limits to a healer’s power. Right now, that was the thought he couldn’t chase away. Biting his tongue to keep from shouting at Sarah to hurry, he held his mate against his chest and tried to calm the hell down. While his heart raced and a cold sweat ran down his back, his wolf raged, growling and pacing within. Luke tucked Isabelle’s head under his chin and nuzzled her hair. She had nearly died. Right in his arms. The thought of— no, he wasn’t going there. Jesus, they hadn’t even had time to exchange more than a few sentences with each other. Light bloomed in the cavern as Rissa’s sister, Daphne, moved along the wall lighting several hanging lanterns. She unhooked one and carried it over, placing it so the light shined on Isabelle. Sarah nodded. “Thanks.” Isabelle cringed away from the light and whimpered. “Shh,” he murmured as he smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead, leaving his mouth on her soft skin for a few seconds. The power of his beast flowed into her as Luke kissed her again. “It’s okay, honey,” Sarah said, as she stroked a hand down Isabelle’s arm. “Poor thing’s like ice, even in the water.

Hypothermia is the biggest problem right now. She’s so freaking malnourished she’s not equipped to deal with all this trauma.” Impotent rage flared at his mate’s circumstances. He never should have let her get in the helicopter. Not when she was already clearly suffering. More healing energy flowed from Sarah. “Dean,” she said, “we’ll need warm blankets. And have whoever is hanging around out there get some food. Something high in calories but easy to get down. Oh, and have them bring something for Luke, too.” “I’ll take care of it,” Daphne said. Luke shook his head as Daphne raced from the room. “I’m fine, worry about my mate.” Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll worry about who I like, Alpha.” She said his title with the kind of sarcasm reserved for someone who had grown up as one of his closest friends. “As healer, I’m telling you, you’ll eat what I tell you to. You won’t be helping your mate much if you don’t have enough energy to support her.” Shock rang through him and his wolf cocked his head, listening. It must have registered on his face, because Sarah said, “Oh yeah, you are definitely feeding her energy, all right. That might be the only thing that’s keeping Izzy going at this point.” “But—” “But that’s only something that can be done between bonded mates? Normally, yes. But your wolf always was pushy, wasn’t he? How old were you when you first shifted? Four?” He didn’t answer, too surprised by the realization that he and Isabelle had already established such a connection. When the hell had that happened?

Squatting in the bubbling water, Sarah’s red jacket billowed around her. She made an exasperated sound and yanked on the fabric to get it out of her way. “Here, babe,” Dean said, helping his mate out of the sodden coat. He pulled off her drenched sweater, too, leaving her in a dark T-shirt. Sarah murmured her thanks and bent over Isabelle once more, power flowing from her dancing hands. After a few minutes, the healer’s breathing turned ragged, too. She sagged against the side of the pool. Dean handed Sarah an open bottle of sports drink and cupped her cheek in his huge palm. She smiled at her mate. “You always know what I need, baby.” “Just doing my job,” he said. Luke watched the tender moment and tightened his grip on his own mate. For once he wasn’t flooded with jealousy. He took advantage of the quiet moment to study Isabelle’s face. A purple bruise stretched from her right temple over her cheek. Blood matted her hair and streaked her skin. The cinnamon-colored freckles on her nose showed starkly against her pale skin. Unable to resist, he kissed both cheeks, and then her nose. As he pulled back, she opened her eyes. God, they were a beautiful shade. Not brown exactly, more a burnished gold, like great scotch. They stayed like that, gazing into each other’s eyes for just a few seconds, but in that short time Luke felt something fall into place inside himself. “Hi,” he whispered. Isabelle blinked once, then closed her eyes, settling her head onto his chest with a sigh. A lump formed in his throat. When he looked up, Sarah, Dean, Daphne, and a half-

dozen others were staring at him. Dean met his eyes and nodded once like he understood the intense emotions rattling around in his heart. As his friend’s gaze shifted to his own mate, Luke thought maybe he did.

Chapter Nineteen Kent Markes paced the warped floor of the grubby cabin. The only light in the room came from the screen of his cell phone, which was in danger of being crushed in his grip. He didn’t care if the male on the other end of the line was paying him. He didn’t bother trying to keep the growl out of his voice. “You said the bomb would destroy the helicopter. It looked pretty good to me.” The answering growl sounded tinny coming through the phone. “Dodd should have lost all maneuverability. They should be nothing but a greasy smear on the side of the mountain. There is no way they should have been able to land that aircraft.” “Should, should, should. Obviously, they could fly it and did. They set down in a little clearing, like they hopped through a hole in the trees. Everyone survived the crash. Are you sure you did it right?” “I placed the bomb myself.” The unjustified arrogance in the other male’s tone rubbed Markes’s fur the wrong way. “Color me impressed.” Static filled several seconds of silence. “You blew your cover. No one was supposed to know about you guys yet.” Cover. He snorted. He’d like to slam his fist through the wall, but they had to live in this shit hole a while longer. For weeks they’d been cooped up, biding their time. When the moment came to act, they did, and they’d paid for it. The phone’s plastic casing creaked. Oh, how they’d paid. He swallowed back the roar building in his chest. “Did you want Branson dead or not?”

“That was the whole point of this little exercise. But thanks to you and your brother, Wyland now knows the crash wasn’t an accident, and that he has outsiders in his territory.” Markes’s snarl rattled the lone, filthy window. The cabin’s other occupant, a literal bear of a man, didn’t take his eyes off the rifle he was carefully cleaning. LeBlanc curled a lip at the disrespect he could hear coming from Markes’s caller. “Be careful what you say about my brother,” Markes said. His voice, filled with his beast, came out in a guttural growl. He could barely comprehend the loss he’d suffered. How would he go on without Curt? A female voice whispered on the other end of the line, too low for Markes to make out. “Of course, your brother’s death is a terrible loss,” the caller said with fake sincerity. Markes might be muscle-for-hire, but he was no fool. He knew his caller and the bastard’s bosses thought he, his brother, and LeBlanc were nothing but vicious, disposable tools, loaded weapons they only had to point in the right direction. “I want Curt’s body,” he said. This point was nonnegotiable. “We’ll take care of it.” “You’d better.” Their contact sighed. “This tragedy could have been avoided. You were only supposed to make sure Branson was dead. The others are meaningless.” He prowled the room, his cougar itching to be let out to hunt. “You said Dodd had to die, too.” Another bad-tempered growl echoed through the cell. “Dodd is Rissa’s ultimate stupidity. She’s contaminating the pack with that human.”

Markes couldn’t have cared less about Freddie Dodd. He was a human, weak and easily broken. But the little bastard had brought that female here. “His bitch sister killed my brother.” And for that, they would both pay. Painfully. Another sigh. “Again, our deepest sympathies. Be thankful Izzy Meyers has Wyland tied up into so many knots he doesn’t know which end is up. Instead of hunting rogues in his territory, he’s holding vigil at his injured mate’s bedside. That won’t last long, though. Once they complete the mating bond, he’ll be back on the hunt. He’s not some horny kid, easily distracted by his dick. Mate or no mate.” “He’ll be distracted if she dies.” A laugh chuffed over the line. “Yes, he would be. Confirming Wyland’s suspicions about rogues acting within the territory rearranges our timetable a bit. I have no problem getting rid of the scrawny bitch if the opportunity presents itself, but we have to proceed with caution.” A cold smile formed on Markes’s face. “Oh, trust me, the opportunity will definitely present itself.” He’d make sure of it. “Meyers is mine. Anyone else thinks of touching her, I’ll skin ’em and feed ’em their own tongue. Don’t like it? Take it up with Caine. He’s given me vengeance rights.” The male sucked in an audible breath. “You spoke with Caine?” Markes almost laughed. No one wanted to go up against a male like that. Too bad Caine hadn’t been in charge of the sabotage plan. Not only would all their targets be dead without anyone realizing it wasn’t an accident, but Curt would still be alive. “I wasn’t aware you were reporting to him now.” “Seemed like the thing to do, since Caine and his boss are the ones who’re really calling the shots around here.” Another intake of air and another murmur from the

female. “We all have to do what we think is right to honor our families,” the caller said. “But remember, Izzy Meyers is not important to our plan.” “Yeah? Well, plans change.”

Chapter Twenty Golden lights twinkled and danced in the dark woods as their car sped along the winding road. It looked like the lights were following them. Izzy clapped and giggled. “Look, Daddy! Look at the lightning bugs. Do you see the pretty lights, Mommy?” Bess bounced in her seat. “I see ’em, too. There’s lots on my side! They’re so big.” Daddy didn’t answer and Mommy made a scared noise. Izzy didn’t like that. “Daddy?” The engine revved and Izzy was pressed back into her seat. They went around a corner so fast that if they hadn’t been wearing seat belts, she and Bess would have tumbled all over. As one, their hands shot out, seeking the other’s. They grabbed onto each other, tight. Something big and dark raced alongside the car, and Izzy gasped. Bess pulled on her hand and they huddled as close as they could while buckled in their belts. Mommy would be mad if they undid them. More inky shapes melted from the trees, and Daddy said a very naughty word. The lights still chased them, but Izzy didn’t think they were so pretty anymore. “Go home, Daddy!” Bess shouted. Izzy nodded, feeling her twin’s fear like a shadow in her own chest. One of the black shapes jumped toward their car. Mommy and Bess and Izzy screamed. Mommy’s window shattered, spraying them all with hard, sharp pieces of glass. The car swerved, spinning on the road. Daddy yelled something, but Izzy couldn’t understand him over their scared voices and the horrible scratching noise on

the roof. Suddenly, they tumbled upside down, like when Daddy tossed them in the lake in the summer, weightless and flying. Unlike in the soft, cool water, when they landed, it rattled Izzy’s bones, the sound so loud it hurt her ears. She tried not to cry. She wanted to be a big girl, but her arm and tummy hurt. She sniffled. Her everything hurt. The crashing sounds gave way to big, loud, scary growls that rumbled in her head and chest. The lights surrounded them, leaping over the broken car, peering in the smashed windows. Bess screamed. Then Izzy did, too. Not lightning bugs. *** Choking on a scream, Izzy lashed out at those menacing gold eyes, but her legs and arms were trapped. She couldn’t move, couldn’t get free. A hot mouth covered hers in a kiss. It lasted only a second, but the impact, the smacking noise, and the heat all shocked her into stillness. Another kiss, gentle and light, brushed across her forehead and she looked up into eyes the color of sunlit evergreens. “That’s better,” Luke said, a soft smile curving his mouth. “Y-you kissed me,” she sputtered. His smile grew into a full-fledged grin. “Thought it might get your attention. Welcome back, by the way.” Did I go somewhere? Then, she remembered. The jolting explosion, spinning into the trees, Branson, blood, mountain lions. Wolves. “Oh God. Freddie.” Her voice came out as little more than a croak and she coughed, wincing as the motion awakened a whole world of

pain. Freaking everything ached. Luke pulled her onto his lap. “Freddie’s fine. I promise.” “Sw-swear?” “Here,” he said, holding a bottle of water. Izzy tried to reach for it, but her arms might as well have been tied down with cinder blocks, she was so weak. “Let me help.” Cool water touched her lips and flowed into her parched mouth. When she finished, he said, “Better?” She nodded, careful to not move too quickly. “Do you swear?” “About Freddie? I do,” he said solemnly. “Your brother’s being released from the hospital tomorrow. His leg is broken, but the rest of his injuries are minor.” Her breath whooshed out. “Thank God. And Rissa? That was Rissa out there, wasn’t it? The blond wolf?” The wolf who’d saved her and who was hurt bad enough that she almost couldn’t stand up? Freddie would never forgive himself if something— “That was her. She’s all right. Only needed a few stiches. Okay, well, a couple dozen. But she’s with Freddie, hasn’t left his side.” Izzy blew out another relieved breath. “Good. That’s good.” “Careful, Isabelle,” Luke said, a wry smile on his face. “I might think you actually like her or something.” “Rissa’s important to Freddie.” “Uh huh.” “What about Jenny?” “Ms. Erlington was treated for a broken radius in her forearm and released yesterday. Speaking of...” He touched Izzy’s left arm and she hissed as it went up in flames. “JesusMaryMotherofGodGoddammit.” Cradling it in his hands, Luke scowled. “Guess that answers that question.”

A bloodstained bandage covered Izzy’s forearm, the red smudge growing. “I think you tore open your stitches,” he said. His sharp whistle was like a spike in the brain and she cringed. “Sorry,” he murmured as he brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. Again, she went still at his touch and her cheeks warmed. How did he keep doing that? A door creaked open and Rissa’s sister entered. “Hey, Daph. We need Sarah, please,” Luke said. “And some food.” Izzy’s stomach clenched at the mere mention. “On the way,” Daphne said. She paused and smiled at Izzy. “You’re looking better.” Izzy could imagine how ragged she must have looked when she arrived. “Thanks. Luke says Rissa’s okay.” Daphne laughed. “Oh yeah, she’s fine. Being babied and driven completely crazy by our mother. I’d better find Sarah before our Alpha loses his mind. He’s very protective of you.” With that parting shot, she disappeared behind a series of wooden screens. The door opened and closed again. It sounded enormous, like an oaken portal in a medieval castle. Hinges groaned and it thudded shut. Eyes wide, Izzy took in their surroundings. They sat on a low bed in a large, stone room that seemed bigger than her apartment. Lanterns hanging from the rough gray walls threw flickering light over several mismatched area rugs. A rock-enclosed fire pit burned a few feet away from the bed, and steam rose from a bubbling pool near the opposite wall. The ceiling stretched above, too high to be seen in the low light. Other than the bed, there were few furnishings. A lone electric lamp cast a cone of light over an end table and a comfortable-looking leather club chair. A small side table stood next to the bed, with a dark wood armoire just beyond.

“Where are we?” she asked. “My room in Haven,” Luke said. “It’s the pack’s den—a safe house of sorts. We’re in a series of linked caves and larger caverns. The area is extremely hard to navigate if you don’t know where you’re going, and we keep it well guarded. You’re safe here.” “Safe,” she murmured. She was supposed to stay away from werewolves and packs. Not snuggle up to the Alpha in his den, for God’s sake. Still, moving off his lap seemed like a lot of trouble. He smelled good, like a late summer day, and she wanted to burrow closer to revel in his heat. Instead, she forced herself to sit up. “Um, can you put me down?” Sitting in Luke’s lap was way too intimate for a conversation. With a loud, put-upon sigh, he set her on the bed. Fluffing and punching the pillows behind her, he moved her around like a rag doll—albeit a really fragile one. Finally, seeming satisfied with the setup, he eased her back on the pillows. “Wait,” she said, stopping him before he could pull the blankets over her. Loose bandages covered both her hands and there were more on her feet. She wore an enormous long-sleeved T-shirt that bunched around her bare thighs. Another bandage covered her right leg from thigh to calf. As she moved to catalogue her injuries, adhesive pulled on her hip and side, telling her more bandages must lie underneath the shirt. Ringing started in her ears as she remembered what had caused some of those injuries. Claws. And wickedly long fangs. She closed her eyes against the stomach-churning memories of what those weapons had done to Alan Branson. “Isabelle?” Big hands cupped her face. “I’m okay,” she said through clenched teeth. I will not be

sick. I will not be sick. She swallowed back bile. Easing one eye open, she found Luke a few inches from her nose, grimfaced. She ignored the desperate part of herself that wanted to pull him closer. Instead, she waved a mummy-like hand at him. “What’s going on with these?” The splinters from her makeshift bat shouldn’t require this much coverage. “Well, frostbite, for one.” Luke scowled at her hands like they’d insulted him. “Not to mention the trip here scoured several layers of skin off them.” More memories flooded in. How the hell could she have forgotten how that cold murmur, alien and yet familiar, had echoed in her head? Anger didn’t describe the sound. Ragged fury and allconsuming hunger had scorched through every bit of it. Izzy’d been pushed, ripped into pieces, and trapped in the dark by that voice, unable to affect anything. Her stomach lurched and she leaned over the side of the bed just in time. Guess she was going to be sick after all. A basin appeared in front of her face, and a big hand rubbed her back. The dry heaving seemed to take forever to pass, but finally she flopped back onto the pillows, gasping. Oh God. She’d let the monster out.

Chapter Twenty-One Luke wiped Isabelle’s face with a damp washcloth. “Easy, sugar.” He brushed aside her poor shredded hands when she tried to snatch the cloth away from him. “Christ,” she said. Even if he hadn’t been able to detect her scent, that one simple epithet conveyed a depth of disgust he couldn’t miss. “Sugar—” “I shape-shifted,” she said, her voice a thin whisper. Her naturally sweet scent soured into bitter, drenching fear. “What if I do it again? What if I kill someone?” His wolf whined. Isabelle acted like she had committed some grave crime instead of embracing something that was as much a part of her as the freckles on her nose. When he found the son of a bitch responsible for making her feel this way about herself, he would rip them to shreds. He should start a list entitled Bastards to Maim for Isabelle. “Why would you think that?” he asked, but she didn’t answer, just shook her head. The sadness in her eyes wrecked him. Loosening the hold on his own beast, Luke allowed its power to rise to the surface. To the human eye, not much would appear different. Some might steer clear of the wild energy they unconsciously sensed, while others would be drawn to his strength. To him, it felt like his wolf’s fur rubbed along his skin. When Isabelle gasped, he knew she felt it, too. Her eyes flew open and locked on his face. “Wha-what?” “Relax, sugar.” Cupping her cheek in his palm, he let his

wolf touch her through him. Those intoxicating whiskey eyes grew hazy and she blinked slowly. For a minute, he entertained himself with the idea that she would take a breath and settle into his arms. That was because he was a delusional idiot. “Wait a minute.” She squirmed upright against the headboard. “I want to talk about the crash. What have you gotten my brother into?” She zeroed in on him until Luke felt like he was spot-lit under klieg lights. The scrutiny didn’t bother his wolf one bit, though. The smug bastard stretched out in his mind, cocking a brow as if to say, What? You’d expect less from our mate? “Someone was motivated enough to put a bomb into that aircraft,” she said. “Who was the target? Was this about pack business or business business?” “What do you mean? You think the pack would do this?” Stupid question. Of course she did. She was terrified of lycanthropes. “We didn’t. Wedding or no wedding, Freddie is already Rissa’s mate. He’s pack. And even if you think we’d kill our Luna’s mate to get at Branson, why would we do it in such a noticeable way? Yes, we control local law enforcement, but a helicopter crash? That brings the federal government into our business.” He cut a hand through the air. “No way.” She stared at him for a few seconds more. “All right. I buy that. It’s probably safe to assume the werecougars were involved with the sabotage.” A growl rumbled in his chest. “They certainly didn’t just happen upon you. There are only a few cougar shifters in the area”—and none of them were stupid enough to so blatantly challenge the pack—“and we have a good relationship with them.” The next part pained him to admit. “I don’t know who the hell the two bastards were who attacked you. Yet.”

“Fine,” she said, though it sounded like whatever. “You know,” he said, his temper rising, “despite what you think of werewolves, we’re actually pretty boring. The pack’s a community, with all the bureaucratic details that entails. Our members need education, work, and a secure environment. The pack helps provide those things like a human municipal government does. The only difference is that we take into account the unique needs and problems of a lycanthrope.” He dug his fingers into the tendons in the nape of his neck. “There are several other shifter groups and individuals in the territory. There’s some good-natured competitiveness, but we don’t try to kill one another.” Even as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. After what the Chicago Alpha had told him, how the hell could he say such a thing to her of all people? She glared at him. “Please. I may not have grown up in a pack, but are you really trying to tell me dominance challenges don’t happen at every run? Or that they aren’t violent? I’m supposed to believe what? That you all just have a little chat and vote?” “No, but they usually don’t cause serious injuries. Or involve assassination.” “So. It’s a happy-happy shifter utopia around here. You’re all going around being mundane members of society. Got it. But?” He gave her a wry look. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or throttle her. “You’re kind of a wiseass.” “Just noticing that now?” Luke rolled his eyes. “But someone who obviously knows about us killed a man the night before you were attacked.” “The county clerk.” He nodded, and she seemed to chew on that for a minute.

“Why kill that guy?” she asked. “You said he wasn’t involved with the pack.” “We’re not sure. Though it seems like a message.” “What do you mean?” she asked. He scrubbed his face. The barbarism of what was done to Conroy was beneath any lycanthrope. “They cut out his tongue.” Anger brought a flush to her pale face. “Motherfuckers.” She enunciated each syllable with precision and vehemence. “Yeah. Well, if that bit of savagery was supposed to tell me something, I wished they’d been a little clearer with the memo,” he said. “Plus, three other people have gone missing in the last few months. We haven’t found any sign of them.” “From the pack?” “No,” he said. “Two tourists and a human resident who supposedly left town. His kids haven’t heard from him since, and no one can locate him.” “I remember Freddie saying he had been out on some S&R runs. You think these werecougars did it, took these people?” “I don’t know.” “There’s a lot you don’t know.” “A whole encyclopedia’s worth of stuff,” he agreed. A bandaged hand wrapped around his. “Sorry. That was bitchy. I’m pissed and worried for Freddie, and I’m taking it out on you.” She raised her other hand as if to rub her eyes, but stopped. Twisting her arm, she scowled at the bloodstained bandages on her forearm. “I’d like to kill that cougar again.” “I’d rather do it for you,” he said with menace. Big amber eyes flipped up to meet his. A ribbon of gold pulsed around Isabelle’s pupil as the wild scent of wolf filled the air. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and

when she looked at him once more, the beast was gone. She cleared her throat. “I’m wondering how they got the bomb on the helicopter. We would’ve seen it if it was attached to the outside. Putting it in the fuselage had to take time and equipment.” “We’re working on that. A mechanic from the Spokane airfield is missing. No one has seen him since he refueled your helicopter.” “Hmm.” Isabelle looked off across the room, her eyes unfocused. “Freddie and I left the airfield for lunch while Branson and Jenny were at their meeting. We were gone just over an hour.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess it’s possible.” “But you don’t think so.” She shrugged. “Whoever it was could have planted the device in Spokane, or done it days before. Maybe even while Freddie was meeting me in Missoula. Or...” She gave him a meaningful look. He reared back as if she’d slapped him. “Or what? We’re back to the pack trying to blow up Marianne Townes’s helicopter with her daughter’s mate in it?” “I didn’t say anything about the pack, Luke. You guys don’t have a hive mind, do you? You can’t know what everyone around here is thinking.” Or plotting. The hair on his neck stood up. If Isabelle was right and the explosives weren’t installed by the mysterious mechanic in Spokane... His wolf snarled. Then the saboteur could be much closer to home. *** A hard, greasy ball sat in the pit of Izzy’s stomach. Strange, since she was so hungry; it seemed like she hadn’t eaten in a

month. She was, however, big enough to admit the discomfort probably came from the way she’d poked at Luke. It was obvious he felt guilty about what had happened to her—and to everyone else. Not surprising, really. In Freddie’s kitchen, he’d told her flat-out he considered everything that happened here his problem. That sort of personal responsibility usually only came from people with a deep sense of honor. And she was starting to trust that Luke was that kind of person. Okay, maybe trust was taking things a bit too far. Perhaps she should say she had a reasonable certainty Luke was a stand-up guy. Everything she’d been taught about werewolves said that thought was insane. But her gut told her he wouldn’t harm her. Hadn’t he proven it already? Rissa, too. You don’t put yourself between a lethal enemy and someone you plan to kill later. All these thoughts were making Izzy’s headache worse, so she focused on the crackling fire and the gently bubbling pool. The quiet sounds lulled her into a sleepy daze. She let herself drift, and immediately sank back into the images of her blood-soaked dream. Choking, she flailed for something solid to hang on to. Luke grabbed her wrists and pulled her onto his lap. “Isabelle, it’s okay.” “It wasn’t an accident,” she whispered. All her life, whenever someone asked about her parents, she’d said they died in a car crash. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. The Feds have already said they agree with you. Someone planted a bomb in the tail section.” Izzy blinked, confused as she tried to process Luke’s words. “What? No, that’s not—” She snapped her mouth shut as she realized what the hell she was saying. Luke cocked his head in a decidedly canine manner she

found disconcerting. “Isabelle?” A lie popped into her head, but the words jammed up and died on her tongue. Maybe it was because her big secret of being a werewolf was already out or because Luke was obviously concerned for her, but for once, would it kill her to not hide everything about herself? Gold flickered in Luke’s eyes. Images from her nightmare memory sprang into her mind and she fought the panic. Blood. Her mother’s long-fingered hand, with the pretty pink polish on the nails, lay limp and covered in blood on the back of the seat. Glowing eyes and sharp, white fangs. Her daddy’s roar. Strong arms banded around her and a gentle thumb stroked her cheek, pulling her into the present. Luke dipped his head so she couldn’t avoid him. “What just happened, sugar? I can smell your fear, so don’t say ‘nothing.’” “Have I mentioned how much that annoys me?” “Deal with it.” “I’m on your lap again.” “Deal with that, too.” She sighed. “Your eyes...they started to glow.” “That’s not something you need to be afraid of, sweetheart.” He sounded so sincere. “What should I be afraid of then?” He cupped her face. “Not me. Never me, Isabelle.” Yeah, she was getting that. “They killed them,” she said quietly, surprising both of them. After a moment, he said, “Your parents.” Not a question. “You knew?” He took a deep breath and let it out. “What do you remember about your family, Isabelle?”

“Wait. How did you know I was talking about them?” He rubbed a hand through his hair, sending it in a new pattern of disarray. “The morning you flew to Spokane, I talked to the new Alpha of the pack in Chicago.” The blood rushed from her head as if she’d stood up too fast. “You were checking my story.” “Not in the way you’re insinuating. I wanted to know why they would allow you and your sister to be raised by humans, without any help. That’s not normal behavior for a pack. I called the Alpha there because nothing was adding up.” Izzy looked away and tried to think past her instinctive fear, a knee-jerk reaction that was seriously pissing her off. How many choices had she let be influenced by that fear? When she turned back to face Luke, she found him patiently watching her. “Does it now?” she asked. “Add up for you?” “A little. What’s your last name, Isabelle?” “It’s Meyers.” He shook his head. “No. I don’t think it is.” “What are you talking about? Of c—” She stopped as a little girl’s voice drifted in her head. Another memory. Bess’s voice. Her small hand gripped tight around an extra-wide pencil. “R-A-N—what comes next, Izzy?” “Randolph,” she said in a whisper. “Our last name was Randolph.” Luke cradled her bandaged hands in his. “Yes. Your father was the pack Beta and your grandfather was—” “The Alpha!” She leapt to her feet and pain burned through them as soon as they touched the cold stone floor. She swayed. Another remembered voice hissed, “He gave them everything. All his time and attention. Even his son. And

the filthy beasts still killed him!” Grandmother. Luke was there, holding her arms, moving so fast, he’d been a blur. “Our grandfather was the Alpha,” she said again, not resisting when Luke picked her up and set her back on the bed. “We were in the car.” The memories were flashing in her head like a strobe, a scream here, a terrified face there. “The window shattered and we crashed. They took Daddy out through the windshield. They—oh God.” Luke slid into the bed and rocked her in his arms. She wasn’t even aware she was crying until his shirt grew wet under her cheek. “I’m sorry, Isabelle. So damned sorry.” *** Every one of Isabelle’s tears tore at Luke. He couldn’t bring back her murdered family, fight their killers, or give her the childhood she should have had. All he could do was hold his mate while she shuddered through long-buried memories. He felt completely useless. A familiar state these days. It didn’t take long for Isabelle to sit back and swipe at her wet face. “Sorry.” “For what?” “Blubbering all over you like a damned baby.” “Everyone needs to grieve, sugar. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” The expression on her face said she thought otherwise. The angry scent of burnt coffee rose from her skin. “Why didn’t they kill me and Bess, too? We were easy pickings.” Fury scalded his throat. “I guess the bastards didn’t have the stomach for it.” “Had no problem with my mom. She was unconscious and they ripped out her throat right in front of us. The blood

sprayed all over Bess. She screamed and screamed.” Isabelle’s voice broke. “Maybe that’s why Bess could never settle down. Never find happiness in anything. Even after we went to live with the Dodds.” Her eyes appeared flat and bleak, as desolate as the high mountain passes scoured by wind and time. “Spend a night covered in your mother’s blood... Maybe that’s why...” “Why she killed herself,” he said quietly. Isabelle stiffened as if he’d electrocuted her. “Freddie told you.” “Yes.” “How much?” A look he couldn’t identify darkened her eyes. Wariness? Betrayal? Her scent told him nothing since all those emotions and more were coming off her in steady waves. “Everything he knew,” he said. “Everything?” “If you’re asking,” he said, “did he tell me about the man Bess killed? Yes.” She wrapped her arms over her middle, a shudder working through her. “Do you know who he was?” “No. She didn’t say and I didn’t recognize him. She didn’t really give me a chance before she...” Before she killed herself in front of you. “I’m so sorry.” After a deep breath, she said, “Freddie must really trust you to tell you all that.” Luke shrugged. “Well, he trusts Rissa.” “And she trusts you. So that’s as good as the same thing to him,” Isabelle said. “The question, sugar, is do you trust me?” Wolf gold flashed in her whiskey eyes, then disappeared. A look of amazement crossed her face as she stared at him. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I guess I do.”

Chapter Twenty-Two Snow crunched under Kent Markes’s feet as he trudged through the woods carrying his younger brother’s body. “A little farther, Curt,” he told the corpse. “Just a little farther.” He knew the exact spot he wanted for his brother’s final resting place. LeBlanc said nothing as he followed in Markes’s wake. They climbed another steep slope on the border of the werewolves’ territory, to a plateau that overlooked a narrow gorge. A dense ring of conifers hid the precipice until they were almost at the edge. Markes lay his brother’s sheet-wrapped body in the snow and peeled the covering away from Curt’s face. He stood, looking down on a face that had been so like his own. A narrow nose between deep-set eyes, shoulder-length straight brown hair, and a deceptive bow of a mouth that had enticed, then tormented, more than one female. Now that face bore two deep cuts on the left cheek from a wolf’s forepaw. “Damn it, Curt.” Wind blew over the gorge with a moan. The ends of the sheet flapped and Markes ripped them away, revealing the gaping wounds on his brother’s chest and neck from a silver blade. His own guts twisted like he was the one who’d taken a hit of silver. “Gonna make that fucking bitch pay, brother.” LeBlanc grunted his agreement. “I wish the sheriff had left Simmons at the morgue tonight.” He flexed his hands as if imagining them around the Beta’s throat. “Woulda been nice to get rid of that bastard.”

Markes would have enjoyed killing the big deputy, too. The trees bent as another gust of wind whined over the mountainside. Its powerful surge dredged up the stink of rot from down in the gorge. “See, little brother. I wouldn’t leave you alone. You’ll have some playmates here. Those two hikers from Cali were pretty hot, with their string bikini tops.” He laughed, remembering how easily his claws sliced through those skinny little strings. “Though they were kinda screechy. Now that brunette co-ed we picked up on her way to Missoula had a nice throaty moan to her. Especially when we were...admiring her tight ass.” He looked up at a noise from LeBlanc. “What?” The bear shifter shrugged and his shoulders blocked the light from the first quarter moon. “Just thinkin’ it’s too bad the human females are so breakable. They don’t last nearly long ’nuff.” He looked down at Curt’s body. “Guess that won’t be a problem for him now.” Absolute fury burned in Markes’s chest and his cougar screamed in his head, forcing claws through the tips of his fingers. LeBlanc took a knee next to Curt, bowed his head, and said, “Good hunting.” Then he stood and walked down the mountain, leaving Markes alone with the dead. As he stripped out of his clothes, he heard the whispers of their prey in the wind and shush of pine needles. He didn’t fear them. They couldn’t touch him. Even dead, they wouldn’t be able to touch his brother either. They were just faded humans, as pathetic and weak now as they’d been during their paltry lives. Curt was a true predator, lethal and cunning. The human spirits would remember the beast that had taken them down as easily as he would a fawn, slashed and torn at them, and fed on them as they screamed for mercy. Dropping to all fours, Markes bowed his head, too.

Holding back the change so he could make one final promise to his brother, his voice rumbled out, cold and guttural. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a particular wolf bitch in mind to play with next. Be sending her to you real soon. Gonna play hard with her. Gonna make her hurt, brother.” The change swept over him in an instant, the pain nothing compared to the agony of his loss. His beast screamed its rage and grief to the goddess, swearing she’d be feasting on wolf flesh before the fullness of her Hunger Moon in less than two days. The great cat bowed once to its lost kin before sinking its fangs into Curt’s soft belly. Flesh return to flesh, clan to clan, kin to kin. Oh yeah, brother. She’s gonna hurt.

Chapter Twenty-Three “I can walk,” Izzy said, as Luke carried her through the long, twisting passageways of the pack’s hideout. Actually, she’d probably have to crawl, but she’d never admit that to him. “Put me down.” “No. I like you right where you are,” Luke said. Despite her wiggling, he never faltered, his strides long-limbed and deliberate. Holding on to her dignity by a thread, she decided to ignore the warmth of his hand pressing against her abdomen, and the way his thumb kept stroking the back of her knee, raising goose bumps. “Um, where are we going?” A series of electric safety lights lit the way, their exposed cords anchored to the walls with metal clips. Substantial, carved wood doors, like something out of the Lord of the Rings movies, broke up the cold gray walls. Several of those doors stood ajar and curious faces peered out. Two girls in their late teens walked toward them, their mouths hanging open. For a moment, their astonishment made Izzy think she still wore nothing but one of Luke’s long-sleeve tees. Thankfully, when Sarah came to re-stitch her arm, she’d brought a soft pair of drawstring pants. Otherwise Izzy might be giving everyone a show. “Alpha,” they muttered as he carried her past them. He acknowledged them with a grunted “Girls.” More doors ahead of and behind them opened. Hushed whispers, like dry leaves blowing across pavement, filled the corridor. “People are staring at us,” she whispered, as they passed an archway that opened into a large alcove-like room.

Bookshelves lined the far wall; an over-stuffed couch and several huge chairs filled the space. Rissa’s sister Daphne, her Barbie-like friend, and two other weres watched them pass. “A pack is a nosy thing. You’ll get used to it.” He nodded and smiled at an older couple standing in front of an open door, receiving another murmured round of “Alpha.” A group of young men jogged through an intersecting corridor ahead of them. Boisterous laughter echoed in their wake. “Does everyone live here?” “No,” he said, tightening his grip on her as they turned down a smaller passage. How big was this place? “Like I told you before, this is our safe house. A few of the older pack members who’ve lost their mates live here all the time, but everyone else has a home somewhere in the county.” A growl entered his voice, vibrating along her side where their bodies touched. “When it became obvious you’d been attacked, we called everyone in.” Ignore the wolfy noises. You are not afraid. Yeah, now if her adrenal glands could get the memo and stop sending her heart rate into overdrive every five seconds, that’d be great. “So, where are we going?” she asked again. “The kitchen,” Luke said. “To get you some decent food.” On cue, her stomach growled. He slid his eyes to her. “Yeah, I heard that.” Of course he did. Probably smelled it, too. Grumpily, she said, “Well, I wouldn’t be so hungry if you’d let me eat the food Sarah brought.” Her mouth watered thinking of the tofu and veggie scramble. Luke grimaced and she felt him shudder. “In no way was that...stuff food. It looked like lumpy children’s clay. And it smelled worse.” She huffed. “What am I supposed to eat then?”

They turned left down another passage perfumed with the smell of baked goods, coffee, and roasting meats. Luke paused outside a set of double doors. What he said next dropped her empty stomach through the floor. “Meat, Isabelle. Time for you to eat like a werewolf.” *** If Luke didn’t have the benefit of a werewolf’s nose, he might have taken Isabelle’s silence for agreement. But he was a wolf, and could smell the disgust, horror, and most of all, anger pulsing off her in steady waves. He pushed through the dining hall’s steel doors and she tensed even more. Numerous packmates called out greetings as he carried her through the large, cozy room of mismatched furniture. “Put me down,” she said quietly through gritted teeth, a deep blush spreading across her face. “No.” When she growled at him—albeit in a human way—he barreled through the kitchen’s swinging doors. Three males, too young to even drive yet, froze in the act of raiding one of the refrigerators. Their nostrils flared and their eyes widened. He didn’t have to tell them to beat it. Nice to see the younger generation wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the signs of two dominant wolves about to fight. Hell, they moved so fast he made a mental note to sign them up for the high school track team. Luke strode to the big, sturdy table set against the wall. After scooting a chair out with a foot, he set Isabelle on it. “Don’t move, sugar.” He grabbed a tablecloth from a cabinet and laid it on another chair before propping his mate’s injured leg on it. “How’s that?” She didn’t answer.

“Isabelle?” Face pale and sweating, she smelled sourly of panic and looked like she might vomit again. But before he could ask another question, she straightened. Seeming to grow in size, she glared at him. “I told you before, I don’t eat meat. What do you mean I have to eat like a werewolf?” Trying not to show how pleased he was at her quick turnaround, he pointedly looked at her damaged and emaciated body. “Do I really need to spell it out?” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Apparently so.” “Fine. These wounds on your hands and feet are nuisances. Minor. Or at least they should have been. They’re nothing for a lycanthrope to heal. Hell, even the cuts on your head and leg from the crash are just scrapes to us. One shift or a few hours’ time would have taken care of them for a healthy shifter. You shifted twice. Yet, you’re healing human-slow. Maybe slower. A vegetarian diet can’t satisfy your body’s needs, Isabelle.” “People do it all the—” He ran his fingers over the pronounced edge of the collarbone peeking out from her shirt. She swiped at him but missed. “Human people, sugar. You’re not human. You’re a werewolf. No amount of soy is ever going to cut it for you. You surpassed underweight a long time ago. You could be an extra in a movie about famine victims.” She scowled and looked away from him. Gently, he tipped her face to meet his gaze. “Slowly but surely, you’re doing exactly what your sister did. You’re killing yourself, Isabelle.” She jerked as if he’d struck her. “If you want to heal,” he said, “if you want to survive, you’re going to have to eat animal protein.” Isabelle’s hand drifted up to rub at her left shoulder. Fear

and disgust saturated the kitchen like black smoke. Tears filled her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Staring past him, she vibrated with tension. Her delicate features twitched as if she were carrying on a silent argument in her head. Luke watched the tips of her fingers turning white as they pressed into her shoulder. What had Freddie said? “There were a lot of nightmares...they have scars.” That shoulder had a burn scar. Blood rocketed through his veins. He struggled to keep the anger off his face and out of his voice. “Who hurt you, Isabelle?” Eyes gleaming with unmistakable rage snapped to his. “I can’t talk about her now.” Her voice was a low snarl. “I need to be able to control it. The wolf. Will eating meat help me do that?” “Yes,” he said slowly. “Properly feeding your body helps maintain balance between the human and animal sides.” “All right.” She dragged in a ragged breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll eat meat if you teach me to control...it.” “It? Your wolf, you mean.” He really didn’t like where this was going. “You want me to teach you how to not shift unexpectedly?” “Yeah. Sure.” “Isabelle—” His wolf stopped him. In his head, the predator prowled. Seeking the reason for his mate’s fury and fear. A way to conquer it. Patience, his wolf said. Hunt. Luke blinked. “Okay, sugar,” he said, putting on an Oscar-caliber performance of nonchalance. He rubbed his hands together and made a show of looking around the kitchen. Legs as stiff as cedar trunks carried him to the refrigerator. “Let’s find you something to eat.”

Chapter Twenty-Four Izzy watched Luke prepare her meal like he was defusing a bomb, as though, if she didn’t follow his every move, it would blow up in her face. She gave herself a mental slap. Please. She was the bomb in this scenario, not the bowl of soup spinning in the microwave right now. The scar on her shoulder blade throbbed with phantom pain. Grandmother would be so pleased her nasty conditioning still snapped like a steel-reinforced rubber band. How she wished she could have given her grandmother a taste of her own medicine. Just once. But then, Izzy had never been that cruel. Luke laid down the bread knife and looked at her. Damn his freakish sense of smell. Focus on something else. Because blowing like that metaphorical bomb was not going to help her regain control of her life. If she’d ever had any to begin with. The kitchen setup would have been at home in a large restaurant. Stainless-steel counters and industrial-size appliances gleamed like new. But the cold, professional vibe ended there. In one corner bunches of herbs hung drying like socks on a clothesline. Beside them, half a dozen long shelves lined the wall, overflowing with pots of basil, parsley, and other fragrant herbs. The room smelled like her foster mother’s porch in the summer. The only things missing were the tottering pots of cherry tomatoes. Children’s handmade artwork decorated the creamcolored walls: pages torn from coloring books, crude finger paintings, drawings, and elbow macaroni collages.

But the unique lighting stole the show. Numerous whimsical light fixtures done in a variety of metals hung around the open space: a dragonfly here, a flowering basket there, and in the center, a multi-limbed, curling tree with colored-glass pendant lights. The microwave dinged and Izzy nearly launched out of the chair. “Smells good,” she lied when Luke raised a brow at her. Lie. Lie. Lie. Because that stuff didn’t just smell good, it smelled freaking fantastic. Hell, had anything ever smelled as wonderful? Her mouth watered even as her stomach churned with nausea. She was so fucked up. Luke set the bowl of live explosives in front of her. “Beef barley. My mom’s specialty,” he said with no small amount of pride. Right. Soup/nitro glycerin, tomato/to-mah-to. A plate overflowing with thick, crusty bread slathered in butter and a huge glass of chocolate milk appeared next to that balefully steaming bowl. She heard more than saw Luke plop down onto a chair next to her, since she only had eyes for the soup. “Isabelle.” “I know.” A second passed. An eternity. “You’re not blinking, sugar.” Her eyes burned and seemed too large for their sockets. Wrenching her gaze away from that damned bowl, she forced her lids down and took a deep breath. Mistake. The rich aroma stabbed her in the gut with hunger and a buzzing sound filled her head. “It’s not complicated,” he said. “You want to see your brother and parents, you eat.” “Oh?” Her voice sank into what Freddie and Bess had dubbed her run-away-and-hide-and-you-just-might-live

voice. She glared at Luke—the big jackass—who appeared unmoved. “So I’m your prisoner then?” “Call me crazy—I think Freddie’s an ass, but it would really annoy Rissa if you got fangy on her mate and in-laws. This being her wedding week and all.” The blood drained from Izzy’s head in a rush as she envisioned her worst nightmare: Hank, Abby, and Freddie, lifeless and torn. “Monster,” her grandmother’s voice echoed in her head. Izzy swayed. Only Luke’s grip on her arm kept her upright. His grip, and her promise. To herself. And the one she’d made to Bess many years ago that they would never hurt the Dodds or anyone else. Bess had failed, but Izzy would succeed. For both of them. She grabbed the spoon. *** Luke had never been more proud of anyone in his life than when Isabelle snatched up that spoon. The scent of her anger and fear still hung in the air, but so did her determination. Only the tips of her fingers jutted from the bandages covering the raw wounds on her hands. But his mate grabbed that utensil like a lifeline. For her, it was. She thrust the spoon into the broth and rushed it to her mouth. Halfway there, the spoon wobbled. Just before her mouth, it tipped, spilling the hot soup onto her lap. Her teeth snapped together and she scowled. He handed her a napkin, which she slapped against the wet spot on her pants. Again with the aggressive scoop and shake. This time the liquid splashed on her chin. “Dammit!” Isabelle swiped her sleeve at the dribbling broth on her face as she attacked the soup again. The spoon

made it just above the bowl before it fell from her fingers and clattered onto the table. The depth and breadth of his mate’s cursing skill impressed him. For the sake of the pack’s silverware, he was glad Isabelle was a lycanthrope and not a witch. Otherwise, going by the intense glare she shot it, the hapless spoon would be a puddle of melted steel right now. Luke stopped her when she reached for the utensil again. “Let me.” “I can feed myself,” she snapped. “Usually.” “Isabelle, your hands are wrapped in gauze and covered in frostbite and friction burns. You’re more than half-starved and have the shakes from low blood sugar. Let me help you.” She glowered at the bowl like it had insulted her mother. Finally, she gave a stiff nod. “Let’s do this.” He couldn’t help it, he laughed. “It’s soup, sugar. Not a camp of insurgents.” Though the task of eating a simple meal that would actually nourish her probably required a more Herculean effort than taking on al-Qaeda. With narrowed eyes, she watched him dip into the soup. Bringing the spoon to her mouth, he cupped his hand underneath it. “Just broth for now. You can get this down.” Please let her get this down. A complicated blend of scents rose from her pale skin, fear the most prominent. His wolf whined in worry. For a minute, he was afraid she’d refuse to open her mouth; it was set in such a mulish line. But she did, and he slid the spoon between her bloodless lips. Her eyes popped wide and her hand fluttered in front of her face. She swallowed. Trembling fingers touched her mouth. When the pink tip of her tongue darted out to catch a droplet on her lip, Luke almost moaned.

Keeping his mouth to himself had never been so hard. *** A shudder worked through Izzy’s body from head to toe. God, the taste, the illicit thrill. “Okay?” Luke asked. His voice sounded like he’d gargled with gravel. She nodded. The buzzing in her head that had been coming and going for months, steadily growing stronger and more frequent, hummed incessantly in the back of her mind. Now, though, she knew it was the wolf. “Ready for more?” Another nod. She wasn’t sure what would come out of her mouth if she tried to speak. A scream? A plea for more? A moan? This spoonful held barley and a hunk of carrot. And again she hesitated. Just do it. Don’t wuss out now. When she closed her lips around the warm metal, the soft, nubby texture of the grain swimming in savory broth hit her tongue, and she hummed in delight. Luke chuckled. “Good, huh?” Her face warmed. The absurdity of her reaction wasn’t lost on her. For God’s sake, it wasn’t like she hadn’t eaten decent barley soup before. But there was no denying the difference between beef broth and vegetable. The silky liquid slid over her tongue and down her throat like melted butter. Warm fingers tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ready for the main event?” Luke asked. “Yeah,” she said, surprised at her own answer. She rubbed her shoulder. For as long as she could remember, she’d been doing things her grandmother’s way. Where had that ever gotten her? It scared the hell out of her, but the fear of

hurting someone due to her own weakness, or not being able to protect her brother when someone could be out to hurt him, drove her choice. “Yeah, I think I am.” Luke’s smile made her heart trip in her chest. He brought another spoonful up to her mouth. “Little monsters. The both of you, nothing but killersin-waiting.” Christ, her skin crawled even from the memory of her grandmother’s shrill voice, and the buzzing grew louder. “Lord, you got a hard head, little girl. Use it.” Her foster father’s familiar admonition rose over both the wolf and Grandmother. The way Hank had said it always filled her with confidence. She opened her mouth and let Luke feed her. All the voices crowding her thoughts shut up. She waited for her grandmother to scream at her, for the scar on her shoulder to throb, for the beast inside to burst free. Nothing happened. “Are you going to chew that, Isabelle?” Luke said, his voice calling her back into the moment. She did. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” she moaned. She snagged the spoon from his hand and dove into the meal. She couldn’t gulp it down fast enough. While her stomach throbbed with hunger and anticipation, the buzzing quieted. A choked sound reminded her she wasn’t alone. Hello, humiliation. Luke stared at her mouth, his eyes burning into her. He reached for her face. “You have a little—no, let me.” Fingers curling under her chin, his thumb brushed at the corner of her mouth. Any lingering embarrassment burned away in a molten rush of desire when he put his thumb in his mouth and sucked. His voice a low rasp, he said, “The sounds you make.” She reached for him, barely stopping herself from

grabbing his hand and tasting him, too. Luke tore a hunk of bread and held it out for her. As soon as she ate it, he brushed his thumb over her lips again, held it there. Possession. She had to be possessed. That was the only explanation for her behavior, because she licked the butter from his thumb. His flavor exploded on her tongue, invaded her senses. Luke’s rumbling groan vibrated over her skin, penetrated her bones, and settled deep down inside, sweet and hot. “Holy shit,” she whispered. The flush on his cheeks made his eyes seem fever-bright. “Have another bite, sugar.” “St-stop calling me that.” Luke moved his chair in front of hers, pulling Izzy in close. So close, he draped her legs over his thighs, until she practically sat on his lap. “Stop calling you what?” “Sugar,” she said in a gasp as his hand caressed her hip, scalding her through her clothes, branding her. “Why?” “Because,” she said. Her heart pounded like a bass drum. He leaned into her and all she could do was pant. The huge kitchen suddenly seemed airless. He’d put her under some kind of spell. She couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. The inch of space between their bodies hummed with electricity. Shivers danced over every nerve and she trembled. His breath caressed her jaw as he trailed his nose along her neck, leaving goose bumps in his wake. He buried his face in her hair, inhaled. A purr-like sound raised every hair on her body as if reaching for him. “Can’t,” he said. “Wh-why not?”

He whispered in her ear, the stubble on his chin tickling the shell. “’Cause you smell so sweet.” A tingling shudder rocked her. Luke pulled back just far enough to give her a wicked look. Green eyes shot with liquid gold held her as surely as his strong embrace. Raising her right hand, he nuzzled her wrist just above the bandages. Then he nipped her with sharp, white teeth. “Mmm.” Izzy squeaked, the sound undignified and girly. Then she moaned as he soothed the ache with a hot, wet tongue. Stinging pain rushed through her injured arm and she realized she was gripping Luke’s bicep like a vise. She couldn’t have cared less. Soft lips brushed the corner of her mouth, moved on to plant a tiny kiss just below her own. When he licked her bottom lip, Izzy went up in flames. “Mmm. Taste sweet, too.” Luke’s green eyes glowed. “Sugar.”

Chapter Twenty-Five Vaughn Ellis navigated his department-issued Ford Expedition around another icy bend. Headlights reflected off falling snow, creating a snow-globe effect. It’d be blinding for a man with normal vision. But Vaughn wasn’t a man. Nor was he normal even by lycanthrope standards. A wood cross and a wreath of plastic flowers nailed to a tree marked the next fork in the road. With his reflexes and enhanced eyesight, he didn’t need to slow down for the sharp turn, but he still decreased his speed to match the posted warning. “Should be coming up in another mile or so,” his deputy, Dean Simmons, said. Vaughn grunted his acknowledgment. Silence reigned once again. In general, he was a male who appreciated the quiet and rarely disturbed it. More than one previous girlfriend had described him as uncommunicative. He preferred laconic. Dean, on the other hand, almost never shut up. At the station, before pack runs, around town or the pack house, Dean smiled and laughed. Boasted, joked, cajoled, teased, told a thousand stories, asked a million questions. Except around Vaughn. The moment he came near, crickets. It was part of the uneasy, awkward two-step they did to maintain the peace. Peace that everyone sensed could and would shatter at any moment. Dean didn’t push and Vaughn didn’t challenge. Such was their unspoken agreement. Because at work, Vaughn was the boss. Within the pack, only Luke outranked Dean and Rissa. Unless Vaughn wanted to question the status quo.

Violently. Sometimes, he really wanted to. Dean sighed. “Got something to say?” Vaughn asked, thinking that once the male left his presence, Dean must unleash all his pent-up words like water over a blown beaver dam. The SUV bounced over a pothole. “Nope.” A few seconds passed, then, “Yes. Why are we both here?” “Thought that was obvious. The local sheriffs found a car with plates matching our BOLO.” “Yeah, but inspecting the mechanic’s car should only take one of us. It’s not like we don’t have stuff to do back home.” That was true enough. Two murder investigations, three missing persons cases, a team of Feds in town for the helicopter crash, and one cut-up werecougar awaiting identification. There was plenty to do. And that’s precisely why Vaughn wanted Dean where he could keep an eye on him. Vaughn slid him a look. “Got a problem with my company?” His wolf’s claws spread and clicked in his mind. He shouldn’t antagonize Dean, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself every now and again. The bigger male’s dominance rubbed his fur the wrong way, and Vaughn was too dominant not to want to test that. Another sigh. “Listen, let’s cut the bull.” This should be good. He nodded once. “We both know you could challenge me whenever you want,” Dean said. “You might win. You might not. I’m wolf enough to admit we feel pretty equally matched dominancewise and you’re a big, strong son of a bitch. I’ll give you that. Almost as big as me. But I have something you don’t.” Vaughn’s wolf gave a low growl. “Yeah? What’s that?” “I’m invested in this,” Dean said, the words hitting

Vaughn like a .44 caliber bullet to the chest. “I’ve got a mate. Friends. Family.” In other words, You don’t. “I’ve had Luke’s back since we were pups. No matter how much he argued otherwise, I knew one day he’d step up to lead, and when he did, I’d be there beside him, protecting him. Just like your uncle Darren did for Luke’s dad.” Look where that got Darren. Dean huffed. “Hell, maybe you wanna take a shot at Luke, too. But even if you get past me, you ain’t gonna take him down in a fair fight.” Now it was Vaughn’s turn to scoff. “I know, I know,” Dean said, flapping his gums like usual, totally comfortable. Totally pissing Vaughn off. “Like I said, you’re a big S.O.B. Luke, though, he’s invested, too. This is his pack.” Not yours. “His territory.” Not yours. “He takes that shit seriously.” You don’t. “You know the funny thing?” Vaughn spoke through gritted teeth. “What?” “If Luke thought you could lead the pack better than him, he’d bare his throat to you at the next run. All he cares about is taking care of us. All of us. He’s friggin’ pathological about it.” Dean nailed him with a stare, daring Vaughn not to look him in the eye. He did, and Dean’s green eyes flared with gold. “What do you care about, Vaughn?” Flashing red and blue lights pierced the dark night and Vaughn yanked his gaze back to the road, stopping the SUV before it slammed into a parked Spokane County Sheriff’s vehicle. Dean was out the door before the Expedition finished rocking on its tires. Cold air swirled into the cab, stirring up the stench of Vaughn’s fury and Dean’s utter selfconfidence. Goddamn it. He jammed the gearshift into park and leapt out, stalking toward the edge of a small icecovered lake and the half-dozen local law enforcement

officials. He stopped before reaching them, putting on a show of looking around, trying to regain his control. He couldn’t afford to let Dean know he’d gotten to him, or to let the humans see the predators in his eyes. Snowflakes landed on his face and eyelashes as he breathed in the crisp air. He calmly and deliberately set his uniform hat on his head. Again, he inhaled and let his mind sort through the varied smells, cataloguing them, analyzing, slowing his pounding heart. Snow, earth, pine, cedar, maple, lake water, engine oil, gasoline, diesel, various scat and urine deposits, rabbit, vole, swallow, crow, hawk, marten, werewolf, human sweat, soap, deodorant, cheap aftershave, and— Dean swore. Vaughn sniffed again and swore, too. Silently. A tow truck’s gears ground as it winched a decade-old Chevy sedan out of the lake. Broken slabs of dirty ice bobbed around it. The hole in the surface of the murky water gaped like a wound. Time to work, he told his beasts, steeling himself for the onslaught to his senses. Vaughn joined Dean and the others waiting on shore for the car to come to a rest. Water poured out the closed doors and undercarriage. Weeds and mud clung to the frame and windows. Dean introduced him to a squat man in his midfifties with a ruddy face. Spokane County Sheriff Glen Toretti mashed a piece of gum like he was kneading bread with his teeth. They shook hands. Vaughn was pleased to see that despite his anger, his hand was steady. “Plates match the BOLO your department put out,” Toretti said. “Looks like,” Vaughn said, trying not to rub his nose. He looked around for divers, didn’t see any. “Anyone get a look

at the body inside yet?” “So sure there’s a body, are ya?” Toretti said. “Guy could’ve just dumped the car.” The interior of the Chevy was shadowed, the windows covered in grime. Dean cocked his head to peer through the muck on the window. “If he did, he dumped it with a guest inside.” Toretti flashed a heavy-duty Maglite through the windshield. “Huh.” He nodded to a young deputy. “Let’s open ’er up and see what we got.” The kid barely touched the door handle before liquid gushed out over his boots in a small flood. Vaughn had to hand it to him, at least the kid didn’t yelp. That water had to be freaking cold. They all flashed lights into the car, illuminating the wet, rumpled, bloated body of a smallish man with a paunch. They couldn’t see the face because the head had slumped forward, the neck obviously broken. “Well, shit,” Toretti said. “What’s that smell?” the deputy asked. Dean looked at Vaughn, his expression grim. “Citronella oil,” Vaughn said. His eyes were already starting to sting. Toretti and his deputy looked at him like he was nuts. Probably was. He did feel kind of crazy. Inside, his wolf raged. It wanted out, to get the hell away from the stench and the Beta grating on his nerves. “Got something to tell me?” Toretti asked. Nothing I want to. Didn’t have much choice, though. “Found the body of a murder victim a few days ago. Broken neck, doused in citronella.” “What the fuck for?” Vaughn shook his head. After a few minutes of taking pictures of the victim in the

car, they moved him onto a body bag on the ground. The man was about five-foot-five, small-boned, and Caucasian. Definitely dead and definitely still in possession of his tongue. That much they could see thanks to his open mouth. Toretti patted the guy down and found a wallet in a pants pocket. “Michael F. Smith. Forty-three years old, Spokane, Washington. Name matches the one on the car registration.” He looked at Vaughn. “This your guy?” Vaughn shrugged. “It’s the guy we were looking for,” Dean said. “Whether or not the poor bastard was the guy we needed, don’t know.” “Why were you looking for him? The other guy’s murder?” Dean’s motor mouth opened, then it snapped closed, and he looked at Vaughn. Vaughn almost grinned at the other male’s consternation. Lead or follow? Beta or deputy? “No,” Vaughn said. “He was wanted for questioning in regards to a helicopter that crashed two days ago.” “No shit? The one where that rich developer bought it?” “Yeah. Smith here was a mechanic at the airfield the helo took off from.” “What’s your other stiff got to do with him and the developer?” Vaughn didn’t answer. The citronella was the only thing linking the mechanic to Eric Conroy, and through that, Conroy to Branson. Without that, only the timing was suspect. The county coroner, a spark plug of a man in his sixties, finished writing something in a pad and proceeded to pull the edges of the body bag together. “All set, Sheriff?” he asked Toretti. When Toretti nodded, the coroner zipped the bag closed, causing the head to wobble in a way that made it clear the neck, and probably the spine, too, were snapped

clean through. “The force of the car hitting the water did not do that,” Toretti said, gnawing his gum. No way. More like the force from a sharp twist delivered by a pair of supernaturally strong hands. After loading the body into an ambulance for a ride to the morgue, Vaughn and Dean headed back to their vehicle. Dean sneezed and rubbed his eyes. “Hate that damn shit.” For once they were in complete agreement. “What the hell did a county clerk in rural Montana have to do with an airfield grease monkey from Spokane, Washington, and a fancy-pants developer from Missoula?” “A lot, obviously.” “Luke’s not gonna be happy.” “Luke’s happiness is not my problem.” In fact, the male could rot for all Vaughn cared. “Human law enforcement is involved and there’s nothing I can do to keep them out.” Not when bodies were being left out in the open for anyone to find. Sloppy, sloppy. Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose, his face aching as anger and frustration tempted him to change. Idiocy always annoyed him. “Something like this has to be reported to Interclan Enforcement.” Lycanthropes may not have a united governing body, but they did have their own law enforcement. Someone had to make sure the secrets were kept. “We don’t want—” He cut Dean off. “I don’t care what you or Luke wants. I have an obligation.” An almost sub-audible growl rumbled from Dean’s throat. Vaughn’s wolf tensed, ready for a fight. Eager for it. “He is your Alpha,” Dean snarled. “Your uncle was the sheriff. He—” “You know what I learned from my uncle Darren?”

Vaughn asked, his voice low and vicious. The predators within snapped at Dean, baiting him. “What?” “Betas die protecting their Alphas.”

Chapter Twenty-Six “Hang on,” Luke said to Isabelle. He shifted her slight weight in his arms to shut the door to his room without dropping the grocery bag dangling from his wrist. The lock closed with a satisfying click. The way her eyes widened was so cute. That’s right. We’re all alone now, sugar. He couldn’t fight the stupid grin spreading across his face as she blushed. Laying her on the bed, Luke took advantage of the position to stick his nose into her hair once more, drawing in her scent. The essence of illness and injury still clung to her and his wolf wrinkled his snout at the trace sourness. While they were in the kitchen, the evidence of her pain had dispelled enough of the lust from his head to pull back from her, a bare second before a herd of rowdy juveniles burst in looking to raid and pillage. The expression on Isabelle’s face when she realized where his hands had been... “What’s so funny?” Isabelle swung her legs over the side of the bed and slowly bent to stretch them. White lines appeared around her mouth and he bit his tongue to keep from telling her to stop. She looked at him expectantly. “Oh. Uh.” His face warmed as he tried to think of something that wouldn’t earn him one of her frosty death glares. Words were overrated. He tried a preemptive thaw instead with a heated look, letting her know exactly what he’d been thinking. The pretty pink on her cheeks deepened and spread. Even her ears turned crimson. Nice. He traced the curve of one, making her shiver.

His wolf pressed against his skin, seeking the touch of its mate, too. There was nothing Luke wanted more than to crawl into bed with her, make her his in every way. But that wasn’t what Isabelle needed right now. No matter how much he wanted to claim her, or at the very least, wrap her in cotton wool and hide her away from the world, neither of them had that luxury. Turning away so she didn’t see what it cost him to leave her sitting there, he walked around the bed and tossed the grocery bag on the little table next to his leather chair. He spun to face her. “You need to shift again. Tonight.” “What? Here?” He followed her wide-eyed gaze around the stone chamber. “Yes, here. It’s safe, secure. Contained.” She swallowed audibly. “You think I’ll hurt someone. Out there.” It sounded like she believed that. Utterly. “Do you remember anything about shifting before?” Skin gray, she shuddered and wrapped her arms around her torso, like she was trying to hold herself together. “Not —not really. It hurt. I remember that. And it—the wolf—it was pissed.” “I imagine.” At her sharp look, he added, “She’s been cooped up for a long time, Isabelle. Whatever your reasons, you put her in a cage. That’s bound to have ticked her off.” “Her.” Isabelle said the word like it was foreign. “You keep calling it her.” “That’s because she’s female. Your wolf is part of you, sugar. The sooner you accept that and her, the sooner you’ll get along.” She snorted. “What if she doesn’t want to get along?” “She’ll come around.” “Right. You can’t know that.” Not touching her made him twitchy, so he tucked a strand

of her long brown hair behind an ear. “I’m not going to lie to you. She’s probably gonna give you a hard time. She’s strong-willed. She proved that when she fought her way through the mountains to get here.” The trapped look in his mate’s eyes told him she was getting ready to balk, so he talked right over her objections. “Doesn’t matter how stubborn your wolf is, sugar. If you want to get stronger, you’re going to have to go through the change. It speeds the healing process. You’ll just have to be more hardheaded than she is.” Isabelle huffed a rueful laugh. “That shouldn’t be a problem. My foster father says I have the hardest head he’s ever seen.” Yeah, she was a tough little thing, he’d give her that. “Then we’re all set.” “Guess so.” She pushed to her feet, fists clenched, and tilted that pugnacious chin of hers. Damn, but he wanted to kiss the hell out of her. Narrowed brown eyes focused on him like lasers. “What do I have to do?” *** Izzy waited for Luke to answer and tried not to shake like a leaf. Though what good that would do, she didn’t know. He could probably smell the terror wafting off her like a forest fire. For more than twenty years, she’d kept the beast inside, locked down so tight, it felt like she carried a hundred pounds of chains around her neck. All the hair on her body stood up as Luke stepped into her personal space. His heat warmed her better than the fire crackling in the pit. The beehive in her head turned up the volume. Shut up,

you pushy thing, she told the creature living inside her. You’ll get your chance. This is still my time. Christ. Could a werewolf get huffy? She shook her head and tried to focus on Luke. “Still with me?” he asked, head cocked. “Uh, yeah.” He continued to stare at her and...breathe. “Could you stop that?” she snapped. “Stop what?” “Sniffing me. It’s so weird.” Great, she sounded like a whiny teenager. Luke smiled. A big, toothy smile. Then he laughed. He lightly tapped the space between her brows. “You’re cute when you scowl at me.” “Well, you must find me adorable a lot, then.” Luke’s laugh made her already-shaky legs wobble. “I do, sugar. I really do.” He cleared his throat and visibly sobered. “Hmm. All right, I—stop glaring. You’ll make me laugh again.” Damn man—were—male. Whatever. Izzy spoke through gritted teeth. “Again. What do I have to do?” “Not much. Your wolf is close to the surface. I can smell how much she wants out.” Oh, shit. She tried really, really hard not to shudder. She didn’t think she’d pulled it off, though. The wolf buzzed in her head. What are you, a freaking hornet? Knock it off. “Don’t be afraid,” Luke said, stroking the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “You’ll be fine.” Uh-huh. “What about you?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, are you going to be safe in here with a...a werewolf? With me?”

Luke smiled again. “I’ll be fine, sugar.” He tapped his chest. “Alpha, remember?” “So that gives you some special immunity from fangs and claws?” “No. It means I can back down just about anyone.” He waved her off when she opened her mouth. His voice was soft and deep. “Seriously, Isabelle. Don’t worry about me. You won’t hurt me. Your wolf won’t want to.” “Why?” “Trust me?” “Hmmph.” Everyone screwed up. No matter how much they said they loved you. No matter how much you cared about them. It was a fact of life. Just was. Luke looked at her knowingly. “You’ll see.” “Can we get on with this?” There was that snot-faced teen again. “Sure,” Luke said. “Take off your clothes.” Going by the noises coming from her mouth, Izzy was pretty sure she’d swallowed her tongue. Was he crazy? Now was so not the time for a roll in the hay, even if he was the only man to ever make her hormones do the cha-cha. Luke fingered the hem of her shirt. “Want help?” “No!” He grinned and held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back. The buzzing stuttered, like...like a laugh. Are you freaking laughing at me? she growled at the wolf. The sputtering sound got worse. “You’ll get all tangled up in your clothes if you shift in them,” Luke said. “Then your wolf will shred them trying to get free. In general, we get naked before the change. It’s easier on the wardrobe that way.” He sounded so reasonable. She wanted to pop him one right in the jaw. It’d been so satisfying before.

“I can undress myself,” she said. At least she hoped she could. The room seemed to be spinning a little. He turned his palm up as if to say, After you. “You can turn around anytime, bud.” He sighed, but gave her his back. “You’ll find we’re pretty casual about nudity around here. Part and parcel with the whole shifting thing.” “That’s nice.” She had no intention of participating in that bit of hedonism. One, weird. Two...she looked at him standing so tall and strong. Patient. Waiting for her as if he had all the time in the world. Something in her wanted to reach out and touch him, lay her hand on his shoulder, or maybe smooth his perpetually messy hair and let him turn around and look his fill. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. She couldn’t bear the pity in his eyes when he saw all her scars. Get on with it, already. She reached for the bottom of her shirt. Crap. The bandages on her hands transformed the simple task into a clusterfuck. She couldn’t get a grip and everything hurt as the material dragged over her various cuts and bruises. Plus, a serious case of the shakes with a dollop of lightheadedness didn’t help. She almost fell on her ass half a dozen times. “Isabelle?” “I’m fine.” She had to admit, Luke did a great put-upon sigh. Finally, sweating and trembling, she was naked. Except for all the bandages. There were quite a few. Damn. She was a mess. “What now?” she asked. “Do you hear your beast?” Luke asked. “Um...” “Can I turn around, sugar? Please? This would be a lot easier if I could see how you’re reacting. On my honor, I’ll be a gentleman.”

A wisecrack about his trustworthiness sprang to her lips, but she bit her tongue. Over the course of her crap life, she’d learned to believe in people’s actions, not their words. Everything Luke had said—and more importantly, done— matched up. If he’d wanted to hurt her or Freddie, he’d had ample opportunity. But he hadn’t. He’d taken a ton of risks for them. Came to their rescue. Couldn’t she take just this small step? Arms crossed over her stomach, she said, “P-please. You can look.” There were no lewd comments, or pitying remarks about scars, or even rebukes about the prominence of her bones. Just a considering look at her face. “Do you hear your beast?” he asked again. “I think you do. Your eyes are glowing.” “What?” She clapped her bandaged hands over her eyes. Then promptly slapped them over her bare breasts. Then her mound. Back to her breasts. Luke’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. She let her hands fall to her sides as she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Fine. She was naked. So what? His gaze ran over her from head to toe and he didn’t seem so amused anymore. In fact, Luke appeared downright grim. Guess he agreed that she looked totally disgusting after all. Even without the tie-dyed array of bruising and scrapes, she wouldn’t be entering any beauty contests. Freddie was right about her skeletal appearance. She looked like she should be on display with Sue the T. rex at the Field Museum in Chicago. “Let’s get on with this,” she said. Did she have to peel all the bandages off first? Yes, apparently, since Luke held out his hand and gave her the “come on” gesture. “Let me help get rid of those. They’ll just tick off your wolf.”

Together they removed the wrappings on her hands and forearm. Christ, the cougar bite on her arm looked bad. She hadn’t watched before as Sarah repaired it. Lots of neat black stitches crisscrossed her arm like intersecting train tracks. The skin was dark pink and swollen, shining with antibiotic cream, and oozing a bit. She couldn’t contain the “Yuck.” A low growl rumbled from Luke’s chest and he lifted her by the waist—her naked waist—and set her on the edge of the bed. He clenched his jaw so tightly, if she flicked it with a finger, it might shatter. “Fucking bastards,” he mumbled, still growling. “Yeah, um...” The words died on her tongue because his hot hands were back on her, gently removing the tape at her temple. He took care not to pull her hair or tug at the sore skin. Still, he grimaced and apologized as he worked. After he dropped the gauze on the nightstand, he leaned in and brushed a sweet, soft kiss just below the cut. What the hell was she supposed to do with that? With him? Never had a man tempted her like Luke. Who was she kidding? She’d barely found any man remotely interesting, sexually speaking, before. Sure, she could look at an attractive guy and recognize that he’d been assembled well, but none of those gifts from God had really cranked her engine. Frankly, she’d thought something was wrong with her. Sex was something she tried a few times, found underwhelming, stressful, and weird. She’d discarded the whole idea as not worth the price of admission. The guys either seemed put out by her lack of porn-quality moaning or tripled their efforts—and then became annoyed and offended.

But with Luke, the slightest touch or look sent her heart racing. She couldn’t help thinking he might be worth shelling out for box seats and an all-access backstage pass. He’s a freaking Alpha werewolf! Yeah, she must have lost her mind, because even that thought didn’t stop the heat pooling low in her belly. Selfdestructive, that’s what this was. Maybe she should call Dr. Phil. Luke moved on to the swath of bandages covering the claw marks on her hip. She jumped. “Whoa. Okay, sugar? I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. His green eyes were dark and liquid in the low light, like a lake at dusk. “Uh...um.” The power of speech was beyond her at the moment since his big, warm hands were working so close to her—“Hey! Uh, why don’t you let me get this one? Huh? Uh, you can take care of my feet. Okay?” Jesus, what was wrong with her? Her face burned. That slow, knowing grin that annoyed—and thrilled her, dammit—spread across his face. “Sure thing, sugar.” He knelt down before her and lifted a foot, his grin turning positively feral. Oh. My. God. She’d asked him to leave the bandages on her hip alone so he wouldn’t tempt her by being so near her most private parts, but now Luke’s position gave him a much more intimate view. Gold flooded his eyes, lighting them up like a torch. Slowly, he licked his lips as if savoring his favorite dessert and she stopped breathing. HolycrapMaryMotherofGod. Flames licked over her skin, burning her alive with the heat of Luke’s attention. Air. Need air! She sucked in a shuddering breath. He rubbed a hand over his face and sat back on his heels. “Right.” Shaking his head, Luke finished unwinding the

bandages on her feet. He stood, then helped her up. She needed the assistance, too. She trembled from head to toe, both from fear and incredible lust. “Do you hear her?” he said, his voice low and rough. “Your wolf should be screaming at you by now. Just listen to her. She knows what to do. Let her out.” What the hell was he talking about? The thing didn’t talk to her. Sure, it was giving her a mammoth headache with its droning, but it wasn’t saying anything. Luke raised his hands next to her face, hovering over her flesh, without touching. Her skin prickled like a current ran between their bodies. He guided his hands over her throat and shoulders, down her arms. Never making contact. Still, she had the strangest sensation of being caressed by fur. She shivered. “She’s right there, sugar,” he said, his voice quiet and intense. “I can feel her. Close your eyes. Listen. Let her out.” Ridiculous. The whole damn thing. But Izzy closed her eyes. As soon as she did, the buzzing became a roar. And the fur rubbed on the inside. She gasped and fell to her knees. Blinding agony engulfed her. No! Yes! cried the creature. Triumphant. *** As Isabelle fell to the floor writhing in pain, Luke kept her in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t stand the tortured grimace on her face just before she collapsed, let alone watching her bones break and reform. The sounds, unfortunately, he could do nothing about and his own wolf paced in worried agitation in his head. Thank the goddess her change only took a few seconds

this time. When he’d seen her naked body, painfully thin, bruised, and covered in cuts and scrapes, he’d been terrified Isabelle would go through another horrific shift. When it was done, the tingling magic dissipated like mist in the sun. He looked at his mate lying on the cold stones next to his bed: a beautiful, albeit skinny, silver-and-white wolf, the edges around her ears and eyes ringed in gentle black. As he bent to touch her heaving side, he discovered that all her fur was highlighted with ebony strands, like the dark spaces between a dense cluster of stars. She practically glowed in the low firelight. What would she look like under the caress of the full moon? Mate, growled his wolf, pushing at Luke’s inner walls. Not yet, my friend, he told his beast. I have things to say. Luke stroked his female’s soft, thick fur and received a respectable growl in response. “Hello there,” he said. The wolf looked at him and snapped at his hand. It was a half-hearted effort, more a warning than an actual attempt at separating his hand from his wrist. “Okay. Got it. No touching...yet.” The wolf rose and shook out her coat from head to tail. With glowing amber-gold eyes, she gave him a baleful look. He shrugged and she curled her lip. Bright white fangs flashed and she growled again, the sound a low rumble, like an approaching train. He held up his hands. “You’re all right. You’re safe here.” The growling stopped and she snorted. Luke grinned and she glared again before edging away to prowl the room’s edges, sniffing. Never did she present her back or let him out of her sight. The wounds from the werecougar on her right hip and left foreleg looked raw, though she limped very little. Thankfully, the cuts on her head and back leg seemed healed

—or at least enough so that they didn’t show through the fur. Luke let out a relieved breath. At his sigh, the wolf crinkled her nose at him, baring her teeth again. “You’re even testier than your human, little wolf.” She snarled and resumed her examination of the room. So cute. Though he was smart enough to keep that opinion to himself. When his mate’s wolf reached the door to the hall, she chuffed once, her tail high. “Sorry. Not tonight.” The look she gave him would have driven almost anyone else to cowering displays of submission. Instead, Luke picked up the bag he’d brought from the kitchen and removed the paper-wrapped package. “Brought you a present.” She showed immediate interest. Her nostrils flared and she tilted her head back and forth. Actually, he was surprised she hadn’t sniffed it out sooner. It appeared that both Isabelle and her beast had a lot to learn about their own skills. Slowly, the wolf came toward him at an angle. Her ears lay back against her skull and she held her tail out behind her in a suspicious pose. “Come on, sweetheart.” He opened the paper, displaying the huge, raw sirloin steak, and set it on the floor at his feet. “I won’t hurt you. You know it.” Isabelle’s wolf licked her chops, hunger wafting off her. “It’s okay.” He backed away from her dinner and watched her stalk toward it, her eyes on him with every step. When she reached it and stared at him in challenge, he said, “All yours.” Ravenous didn’t begin to describe her behavior, and he was glad he’d grabbed the biggest steak they had. His wolf

hunkered down in satisfaction to enjoy the sight of their mate being fed. “She didn’t mean it, you know.” She rolled her eyes to him. Even without words or the connection that comes from being pack, he understood her angry look perfectly. “She was afraid. I’m guessing you know that better than I do. She didn’t mean to hurt you.” He rubbed at the ache right above his heart. “Someone hurt her, though, huh? Badly.” A ferocious growl rumbled from her lips, blood staining her sleek white muzzle. “Yeah. I want to kill them, too.” She looked at him for a long moment, then turned to sniff the water bubbling in the pool. Her nose wrinkled and she sneezed twice, then rubbed her nose with a paw. He chuckled and opened a bottle of water, pouring it into a metal bowl. “Here you go.” Her imperious expression as she approached the bowl made him laugh even harder. When she finished, she lay down and sniffed at her injured foreleg. Rage burned in his chest, knowing that one of the flea-bitten bastards that hurt her was still out there. She licked the wound before turning her glowing eyes to him once more. “Him, I will definitely kill.” She sniffed as if to say, We’ll see. God save him from haughty females. “So, do you plan on playing nice with Isabelle?” She looked at him, one brow cocked in a very human gesture. “You know what I’m talking about. Can you be patient for a little while longer? She won’t ignore you or cage you anymore. I promise.”

She issued a very clear “hmmph.” “I won’t let her. I won’t let her deny you, or herself anymore. I think you know why.” Tilting her head, she studied him. Her nostrils flared as she drew in the scents around her, drew in his scent. Her beautiful gold eyes echoed the whiskey color of Isabelle’s human form. She sniffed again, rose, and took a slow step toward him. That’s right. You can trust me. Come on. When she reached him, she sniffed his outstretched hand and her eyes glowed brighter. Warm, soft fur brushed his hand, then his leg as she paced around him, her fluffy tail curling over him like a caress. She leaned into him more with every pass, his fingers trailing along her back. Finally, his mate stopped in front of him and licked his hand. Just once, but his heart and wolf leapt in joy. She gave him one more imperious look before bounding onto the bed to lie down with her head on her paws. A gusty sigh ruffled the sheets as she watched him, brows cocked. Luke knew an invitation when he saw one. He quickly shed his clothes, conscious of his mate’s attention as he bared his body to her. Happiness and anticipation buzzed through his veins and he initiated the change before he’d finished kicking off his pants. Finally free of the confines of his human form, Wolf rose from the stone floor, shaking out his fur. Mate’s sweet, healing scent invaded his senses. Leaping onto the bed, Wolf landed right next to her and drew her essence into himself. Never would he lose it or mistake it for anything else. Head raised, she followed his movements, then sniffed him in turn. And when she allowed him to lick her muzzle clean, he threw his head back and howled his joy. The song bounced from the stone ceiling and echoed around the

chamber. Answering cries drifted through the heavy door, from both human and wolf throats. He had his mate, safe in his den. Nothing could be sweeter.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Markes scowled at the view through the van’s windows. “Get down,” LeBlanc said in his deep rumble. “Coming up on them now.” “Yeah, yeah. I already saw them. Fucking dogs.” LeBlanc grunted and Markes rolled onto his back in the rear of the stolen telephone company van. How were they supposed to get at the human bitch without attracting the pack’s attention when the bastards were camped outside her door? They’d seen at least two wolves hiding in the woods behind the row of overpriced condos. He and LeBlanc had discovered the guards after only two passes through the neighborhood. If that was the best the pack had to offer, no wonder they’d been able to kill right under the dogs’ noses. Pathetic. “We shouldn’t come through again,” LeBlanc said. “Yeah. Even these idiots would notice.” He climbed into the passenger seat. “We’ve seen everything we need to already.” Stupid mutts couldn’t even properly hide themselves in the dense underbrush meant to preserve the humans’ privacy from the squirrels and birds. “Christ, how do humans live like this?” Markes asked, flinging a hand toward the meandering complex of two-story boxes, stacked right on top of one another. “They’re like eggs in a carton.” “Just as breakable, too.” LeBlanc flicked his turn signal like a law-abiding utility employee should and turned out of the suburban hell. Markes nodded. Meat sacks. That’s all humans were.

Meals on the hoof. Easily separated from their careful little herds. Jenny Erlington would be, too. “The kid could be a problem,” LeBlanc said. “Hmm.” No one had warned them that the whiny human had a kid, but a tiny pink bike leaned against the garage, and an upstairs window sported one of those stickers paranoid parents used to mark their spawn’s bedrooms so the firefighters would know where to find the bodies. “Not our problem. If she’s there, too bad. Caine wants the woman dead to protect his buddies in the pack. She knows her boss, Branson, was just the front man for the land purchases.” A deep crease appeared on LeBlanc’s forehead. He always worried too much. Markes slapped the big bear’s arm. “The mutts can’t watch the bitch forever. Then she’s ours.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight Green spruce and Douglas fir stood out against the backdrop of the gray early morning sky. Izzy used the sleeve of her borrowed coat to clear the condensation from the window. Luke’s truck hit another pothole and she bounced in the seat. “Gonna snow again later,” Luke said. “Oh?” Izzy didn’t look at him. Every time she did, her face burned like the sun. Instead, she intently fogged up the passenger window. Last night she’d let him feed her by hand while she practically straddled him; nuzzle and kiss her; and for the grand finale, kneel between her legs while she was naked. And there went her cheeks again. But even more embarrassing—and exciting and confusing—was how they woke up this morning, in bed, all tangled together, her head on his chest, his thigh firmly between hers. Naked. Naked. Luke made a noise that was a cross between a cough and a laugh. Ignoring the fresh volcanic blush pulsing through her skin, she turned to glare at him. Smug. That’s what he was. He’d been smirking at her all morning. “You’d better knock that off before we get to Freddie’s,” she said. “What?” “That look. That oh-so-pleased-with-yourself, shit-eating grin you got going on.” “Can’t.”

Grrr. “Well, you’d better try. I don’t want Hank or Abby to get the wrong idea.” “What idea is that, sugar?” She sighed. “That’s another thing. Don’t call me ‘sugar’ in front of them. And you know perfectly well what idea I’m talking about.” “That I want you? Because that’s the simple truth, sugar.” The landscape blurred as her brain fuzzed out. Her tongue went numb while every other inch of her tingled. Holy hell. “Why don’t you call them Mom and Dad?” Luke asked, calm as you please. As if he hadn’t just confounded her into the village idiot. Izzy dragged in a breath and leaned her head against the freezing window. “Because,” she said lamely. “Because why? Freddie does.” Acid burned her stomach and she tried to tamp down the anger rising with it. Luke couldn’t have known that this topic infuriated her. “That’s because they are his parents. They adopted him.” “But not you and Bess?” “No.” One more act of petty cruelty to lay at her grandmother’s feet. A dull ache formed behind her eyes. “They tried,” she said. “Our grandmother wouldn’t relinquish her rights to us. Somehow she managed to block everything Hank and Abby did to sever her ties.” This was dangerous. The subject of her grandmother was a minefield with way too many triggers to blow up in her face. After a couple deep breaths she said, “We never—I never felt like I’d earned the right. It wasn’t anything Hank or Abby did. They loved us as much as any biological family could. Bess and I were just so...separate. By choice.” By necessity.

She felt Luke’s gaze on her, could practically hear the next series of questions forming in his mind. But thankfully he didn’t voice them. Turning onto the winding private road that led to Freddie’s house, Luke said, “Do you remember the cover story for where you’ve been and—” “I’ve got it.” If there was one thing she was good at, it was hiding the truth. “I can’t believe Hank and Abby bought that story, though,” she said. “It’s been three days.” Luke shrugged. “Well, it’s not as far-fetched as it sounds. There are plenty of isolated cabins around here. Roads get cut off by rock slides and avalanches all the time.” He stopped at a crossroads and waited for a mail truck to turn. “Sarah’s a great doctor and well-respected in the community. Once she convinced your parents you were okay and in good hands, it wasn’t that hard to get them to agree that you were safer where you were.” His smile turned rueful. “Your mom gave me an earful over the phone, though. For a while there I thought she might commandeer a snowmobile to come get you.” Izzy laughed. “She can be kind of scary when it comes to her chicks, as Hank calls us.” Luke nodded solemnly. “She reminds me of my mom.” They drove in silence for a few minutes. The closer they got to Freddie and Rissa’s, the more anxious she became. The thighs of her borrowed sweats grew damp from rubbing her clammy palms on them. “Are you okay, Isabelle?” “Are you sure I’m not a danger to them?” The words burst from her. “If I hurt them—” “Everything will be okay.” “How—” Luke pulled over, and pine boughs brushed the passenger window. He turned to her and squeezed her shoulder.

“You’re not a monster, and neither is your wolf. Our beasts are reflections of us. They are a part of us as we are of them. It’s obvious how much you love your family. There is no way your wolf would ever hurt them.” God, she wanted to believe that. She’d rather die than hurt Abby, Hank, or Freddie. When the Department of Children and Family Services would have split Bess and Izzy up, the Dodds had taken them in and given them a home. And she and Bess had been anything but a sweet deal. Scared, bitter, and paranoid, Izzy and Bess hadn’t had a clue how to live in a normal home. All the happy chaos of a household full of foster kids, friends, and relatives made them so anxious they could barely function. They spoke only when asked a direct question. Ate only when told to do so. Left the house only when coaxed out. Months passed before they dared touch one of the numerous toys strewn throughout the house. They had their own bedroom, with white wood furniture and walls painted a sunny yellow. In the summer, there were sky-blue coverlets, and in the winter, cherry-red, down-filled comforters. There were hot breakfasts, packed lunches, and family dinners. Shelves filled with books and games, and presents on birthdays and Christmas. Baseball leagues, sledding in the park, and picnics at the lake. There was conversation and laughter, and groundings when needed. Everything that made up a happy home. Yet Bess and Izzy kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to slap them in the face and scream at them for the audacity of hoping they might belong. And they lived in abject terror that they might prove themselves to be the monsters their grandmother said they were. “You have to swear, Luke,” she said. Her voice shook. “I don’t care what happens to me. Nothing is more important than my foster family’s safety.”

Luke sucked in a breath, as if he were praying for patience. “Isabelle, I swear on the goddess of moon and stars, no harm will come to your family by you or your wolf. Why do you keep saying things like that? We’re not mindless, ravening beasts. We don’t forget who our friends and families are, or think, ‘Hey, that random human looks tasty.’” He pinned her with a look. “Lycanthropes haven’t cornered the market on violence. Humanity is full of murderers and psychopaths. I would think a veteran who has been in a war zone would know that.” With that, he put the truck in drive. My God, is that how I sound? Well, of course she did. Didn’t she tell him herself that lycanthropes didn’t have to be monsters? And he was right about human beings, too. Had what happened to her biological parents been any worse than what terrorist groups routinely did to innocent civilians? Bile rose in her throat. Freaking hell, I’m a bigot. Shock and shame glued her lips together. How could you apologize for insulting everything about a person? Before she could come up with something even approaching adequate, they wound around the final curve of Freddie and Rissa’s driveway. The modern home looked exactly the same as it had...what? Three days ago? Izzy took a deep breath and rolled her head, trying to loosen up the knots in her neck. Before Luke had even turned off the engine, the front door flew open and her foster mother ran onto the porch, Hank close on her heels. Abby shouted and hustled down the steps, the long tail of her wraparound sweater flapping behind her. Izzy didn’t have time to tell Luke to brace himself for the onslaught before her door was yanked open and Abby was there.

“Oh! Izzy! Thank you, sweet Jesus. Thank you for bringing our girl home,” Abby cried, her soft, strong hands patting Izzy’s face and hair and arms. “Oh! Where does it hurt, baby? Are you in pain? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital? Oh! Let me look at you.” Izzy couldn’t answer since Abby had pulled her into a hug tight enough to compress her rib cage. “Ack.” “Abby—Abby, let go of the poor girl. You’re crushing the life out of her.” Hank’s sandpaper baritone brought tears to Izzy’s eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he pulled his wife off of her. “Hey, Hank, Abby,” Izzy said, a distinct roughness in her own voice. She slid out of the truck. “It’s good to see you.” “Oh!” Abby embraced her again, but much gentler this time. “You’re nothing but skin and bones,” she said in a whisper, and a fist closed around Izzy’s heart. Abby dashed a tear off her face, the gray morning light making her brown skin seem darker. She kissed Izzy on the cheek, sniffled, and passed her off to Hank, who took one look at her gaunt face and scowled. “Sorry, sweetie. I know you don’t like the mushy stuff, but—” Hank wrapped her up in his strong, flannel-covered arms. He smelled like Dial soap and metal—from a life spent working on engines—same as he always did. Familiar and warm. Next to Abby, Freddie was balancing on a pair of crutches and shooting dirty looks at Luke, while Rissa whispered in his ear. The female werewolf seemed fine. She wasn’t favoring her arm or guarding her stomach. Guess healthy weres did heal fast. Relief made Izzy’s knees wobble. “You’re all right.” He grabbed her by the front of her jacket and tugged her into a one-armed embrace. “Jesus, Iz. Don’t ever do that to me again.” Freddie glared at her. “I’d smack ya upside the

back of the head, but I hear you have a concussion. Wouldn’t want to scramble your egg any more than it already is.” She laughed, as he’d meant her to. “That,” Abby said, pointing a finger in his face, “and I wouldn’t make you any breakfast if you did, mister.” “Aw, Mom,” Freddie whined, like the perpetual twelveyear-old he was. “As for you, young lady,” Abby said, whirling on Izzy. “What on God’s good earth have you been doing to yourself? You’re a skeleton. Don’t you dare try to tell me you got this way over the last few days. Don’t they have grocery stores in DC?” Abruptly, her eyes swam with more tears. Damn it. “Abby, please don’t cry. I was...” Desperate, she searched for the right word: sick, terrified, delusional? She shrugged. “I’m better now. I swear.” Luke stepped into their group then. He laid a hand on Izzy’s shoulder and slid it over to the back of her neck, causing her skin to tingle. Sticking out a hand in Hank’s direction, he said, “Hello, Mr. Dodd, Mrs. Dodd. I’m Luke Wyland. We spoke on the phone.” Hank’s eyes narrowed on him and Abby’s brows crept up toward her hairline. “Luke’s one of the people who rescued me,” Izzy blurted. “And a good friend of Rissa’s. Right, Rissa?” Obviously no dummy, Rissa swooped in, looping her arm around Freddie’s waist. Izzy noticed she pinched him. “Right,” Rissa said brightly. “Friends since we were babies. So, why don’t we get the walking wounded inside and get them some breakfast? Hmm?” “You’re touching her,” Abby said, not moving an inch, amazement in her voice. Izzy blushed and Luke’s thumb brushed over her nape,

creating goose bumps. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “She’s letting you touch her,” Hank said as if he hadn’t heard his wife. “Um...” Izzy tried not to squirm. “How hard did you hit your head, Izzy?” Hank asked. Freddie snorted. “Pretty damn hard, if you ask me.” Izzy scowled. “No one asked you.” Abby pushed Hank out of her way. “Well, I, for one, am so grateful to you, Mr. Wyland.” “Call me Luke, please.” “Luke.” She beamed a watery smile at him. “Then I’m Abby and this is Hank.” “Mr. Dodd is fine,” Hank said, appraising Luke in a way that made Izzy’s palms sweat more. Abby elbowed Hank in the gut. “Nonsense.” She turned back to Luke. “Thank you for taking care of our girl and bringing her back to us. We couldn’t do without her.” Before Luke could answer, Abby threw her arms around him and pulled him down for a hug. When Abby released Luke with a kiss on the cheek, he wore a bemused expression. “You’re welcome. Isabelle is very special.” Abby gave him another radiant smile. “We think so.” She clapped her hands. “All right, come on. Let’s get inside before we all turn into Popsicles. Freddie, be careful on those steps. Luke, dear, you’re staying for breakfast, aren’t you?” “Wouldn’t miss it,” Luke said, pulling Izzy’s hand into his. “Wonderful,” Abby said, from the house door. “Hank, you come on now, too. Izzy doesn’t need you hovering over her and her new friend.” Hank gave Luke a long look. “Hmmph.” Then he followed Abby into the house.

As the sound of voices disappeared, Izzy pulled Luke to a stop. “I’m sorry. About before. In the truck. What you said...well, I—ugh. It’s complicated. There’s a lot of shit in my past. Doesn’t mean I should throw it at you. You’re right. I’ll try harder to get over myself.” “Isabelle.” His soft smile made butterflies dance in her stomach—and not because she was hungry. He ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “I like when you tell me I’m right. Feel free to do it more often.” Before she could pop him one, the distinctive sound of a throat being cleared came from inside the door. Heat rushed into her face again. Just when she thought she might not look like a tomato for a few minutes. Luke’s smile widened. “Guess we shouldn’t keep your parents waiting.” A ridiculous thought struck her, and she burst into a fit of giggles. “What?” Luke said, holding her arm, as she climbed the porch steps. “I just realized that this is the first time I’ve ever brought a man home to meet my parents.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And you’re not even a man.” She snorted with laughter at his disgruntled look. “Lots of firsts for me this week. First time I willingly talked to a were. First time I shifted.” She shuddered. “First time I ate meat in twentyfive years. It’s like some insane puberty has kicked in.” Luke snorted, then pulled her to a stop just outside the door. The heated look in his eyes erased her idiotic laughter. He leaned in, his mouth inches from her own. “Just so we’re clear, sugar, I may not be a man, but I’m all male. In every way that matters. Especially where it matters.” Gulp.

Chapter Twenty-Nine Izzy tried to relax as Abby and Rissa bustled around the kitchen making breakfast. Between the hostile looks Hank and Freddie were shooting Luke, the hot ones Luke was sending her, and the scents of sizzling bacon and eggs, she was about to run screaming from the room. If Freddie and Hank hadn’t boxed her in at the island, she might have. “Here, honey,” Abby said, setting a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of her. “Eat up. I want to see you finish that whole thing.” “Thanks, Abby. Looks great.” Luke frowned at the cereal. “Isabelle—” The quick look she tossed him narrowed his eyes. She may be a coward, but give her some credit. The damn beast in her head was already buzzing. Izzy knew the only way to shut it up would be to feed it. “Can I have some of those scrambled eggs, too?” she asked Abby. The bowl of eggs fell from Abby’s hands onto the island. The serving spoon flipped out, flicking eggs all over, before clattering to the floor. Dead silence reigned. Finally, Freddie said, “Get the fuck outta here.” It was a testament to how shocked Abby was that she let that bit of profanity pass by without comment. Ignoring the eggs splattered all over the counter, she leaned toward Izzy. “Are you serious, sweetie?” The hope in Abby’s voice made her feel like shit. Abby had worked hard over the years to put out some amazing vegetarian meals, but no amount of lentils and couscous was going to keep two adolescent werewolves healthy. Why

had these wonderful people put up with her all these years? She took a breath before answering. “Yes, ma’am. Please?” Abby burst into motion. A plate materialized in front of Izzy within seconds, and Hank muttered, “Hot damn.” As Izzy picked up her fork, she sensed every set of eyes on her. Nothing like being the main exhibit at the zoo. The eggs looked a hell of a lot better than the tofu ones she normally ate. Not that she’d tell Luke that. He was smug enough already. But the smell... Saliva flooded her mouth and her stomach growled with such force she shook. Come on. You’re a big girl, you can feed yourself. Spearing a small bite, she brought it to her mouth. Oh God. Soooo good. “Mmm,” she said, saluting Abby with the fork before scooping up another bite. “Whoa,” Freddie breathed. Hank dry-washed his face. “Can’t believe it.” Luke set a glass of chocolate milk in front of her and she tried really hard not to gulp at the hot look on his face. He really liked watching her eat. “Me either,” Abby said. “Though I’m not complaining, mind you. I have to ask, Izzy. Why the change?” Deliberately, Izzy laid the fork down and clasped her hands in her lap. Her scar throbbed, but hell if she was going to let it stop her anymore. Finally, she said, “It’s been pointed out to me that my body obviously isn’t getting what it needs from a vegetarian diet. That it’s making me weak.” Her stomach clenched as she looked at Freddie. “Maybe if I wasn’t so weak from poor nutrition, I could have saved—” Abby slapped her hand on the counter. “No. Don’t you dare.” She pounded the granite again. “I won’t have you blaming yourself. Your brother told us what you did. How you fought for that poor man.” Her voice broke. “You

could have been killed.” “Abby—” “No one could have landed that bird any better than you did, Iz,” Hank said, his voice gruff. “You should be damned proud of yourself. I know I’m proud.” Tears sprang into her eyes and she ducked her head. She didn’t deserve these people. “Knock that shit off right now,” Freddie said, bumping her shoulder with his own. “I was there. Not every bad thing that happens is your fault, you control freak. Let it go.” His brown eyes burned. “What you eat, though, that you can control. And not that bitch that had you before us. Got it?” More tears welled. She couldn’t speak, so she just nodded. Hank reached around her and biffed Freddie in the forehead. “Ow! What the hell, Dad? Crash survivor here,” Freddie whined, rubbing the red spot on his head. “Not for long, boy, you keep using that kind of language around your mother,” Hank said. “No matter how accurate it is.” Luke barked a laugh and Rissa giggled, clapped a hand over her mouth, and giggled some more. Freddie glared at both of them. Keeping her head down, Izzy picked up her fork again. But she couldn’t resist. Leaning toward Freddie, she bumped him with her shoulder. When he looked at her, she said in a singsong, “You got in trouble.” Sometimes, laughter really was the best medicine. *** Luke wanted to kiss Isabelle’s family. Well, not Freddie. Freddie was a dick. Maybe he’d give Freddie a friendly punch in the arm instead.

Friends could punch hard. Isabelle sat on a stool at the island, being fussed over by her mother, who reminded Luke of the Oracle from the Matrix movies, with her chin-length salt-and-pepper hair and caring, intense focus. Despite being a Chicago native, Isabelle’s father looked like he’d fit right in with the ranchers and loggers of rural Montana. Throw a Stetson on the man, and he’d be camera-ready to play the grizzled sheriff in a John Wayne Western, complete with the steelyeyed gaze he kept directing at Luke. Luke met Hank’s I’m-watching-you-boy death glare with a determined look of his own. He’d allowed Hank and Freddie the illusion that they’d successfully blocked him from Isabelle’s side. But nothing and no one could keep him from his mate. Hank’s eyes narrowed further. When Luke didn’t look away, he said, “Hmmph.” “How ’bout some bacon, Iz?” Freddie asked, wafting a piece under her nose. “It’s like meat candy.” Isabelle slid her brother some serious side-eye. Then she snatched the strip out of his hand and ate it. “Ohmigod.” “Will wonders never cease?” Abby said. His mate’s moan of delight tested Luke’s control. He’d been trying so hard not to think about the erotic thrill of feeding and kissing her. Or waking up twined together with her in bed this morning. Thankfully, Rissa stopped him from embarrassing everyone. “Oh! I almost forgot,” she said. Opening a drawer at the end of a counter, she pulled out a matte-black pistol and something dark brown. With care, she set the gun and a leather sheath with a knife on the island in front of Isabelle. Isabelle’s face lit up like the full moon on a cloudless night, then crumpled, tears filling her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, her voice a strangled whisper. She fingered the intricate

engraving on the sheath. “My sister gave me this. I thought it was gone.” Luke tamped down the instinct to grab the dangerous silver blade out of his mate’s hands. “It’s unusual,” he said instead. “The handle and sheath...they look handmade.” “They are,” Hank said. He gave Isabelle a warm smile. “Bess was awful proud of those.” Isabelle nodded, holding the deadly thing to her chest like a beloved child. “She made them?” Luke asked. He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. Carrying silver was one thing; heating it, working with it, a whole other ball game. Just breathing the fumes could kill a werewolf. “Parts,” Abby said. “She was an artist, our Bess. She made the loveliest things. But leather and metalworking weren’t her areas of expertise. She designed the knife and holder, and had friends help her with what she couldn’t do herself.” She shook her head, giving the knife a disgruntled look, like she couldn’t understand giving such a gift to a sister. “Thank you so much,” Isabelle said again, the salty smell of grief giving way. “These mean a lot to me.” A blush pinked Rissa’s cheeks. “You’re welcome. Freddie cleaned and oiled the gun for you.” Luke’s phone vibrated in his pocket. “Excuse me.” He stepped into the hall where he could still see and hear his mate. “Hey.” Dean’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Got a problem. A big one.”

Chapter Thirty “This had better be good,” Luke said to Dean as soon as he got out of his truck. The county morgue occupied an ugly, one-story beige brick addition to the back of the local hospital. “I had to leave Isabelle at Rissa’s.” “I know,” Dean said. “But your mom is heading over there, right?” “Yes.” He scowled at his Beta. “And Marianne, under the guise of wedding planning. That should make Isabelle so happy.” “Uh, yeah, not good. Sorry, but I didn’t want to do this over the phone.” Dean motioned for Luke to follow him. “What exactly are we doing? Have you guys discovered the rogue’s identity?” He couldn’t believe how much time it was taking to identify the bastard Isabelle killed. No one in the area admitted to knowing him or any other new werecougars. The guy’s fingerprints and DNA weren’t in any law enforcement databases. None of the werecougar clans they’d contacted would admit to missing two males. The guy was a freaking ghost. “No. The bastard’s body is gone,” Dean said. “What the hell do you mean ‘gone’?” The drive-in entrance of the morgue, where ambulances and hearses made their sad deliveries, stood wide open, revealing the empty bay within. Before Dean could respond, the wind carried a thin trail of citronella to Luke. “Son of a bitch,” he said, unable to keep from snarling. “You won’t need a mask this time. Smell doesn’t get too much worse. Of course, my olfactory system could just be burnt out at this point. Been a long goddamn night.”

For the first time since he’d arrived, Luke took a good look at his cousin. Dean’s eyes, bloodshot and red-rimmed, bore dark circles beneath them. “Have you been to bed yet?” He shook his head. “Come on.” The citronella grew stronger as they walked deeper into the building, but as promised, it didn’t overwhelm them. In fact, it was no worse than walking through the outdoor patio section of Home Depot. As soon as they entered the reception area, the source of the smell became clear. “What the hell?” Luke asked. A gallon jug of citronella oil sat on top of the reception counter. Dean pointed at it. “When I got here, the cap was off and lying next to the jug.” “It’s not splashed all over anything?” “No. It’s like they wanted us to know it was them, but didn’t want to deal with the stench anymore either. Come on into the exam room.” The exam room and coroner’s desk were about as far from a fancy TV autopsy suite as a rusty Ford from a showroom Porsche. Just beyond the dull metal entry door lay cheap industrial tile floors, dingy beige walls, overly bright fluorescent lights, and more battered metal. Everything was clean but worn, and stank of strange chemicals, bleach, decay, and— “Cougar,” Luke said. “The other one.” He sniffed again. “Is that a bear shifter?” Dean nodded. “Yup. I don’t recognize him, but like I said, my nose is messed up. You?” “No. That’s not anyone I know. Fuck.” Luke paced around the room, trying to detect any other scents that didn’t belong. He didn’t find any. “So, what? These two guys broke in here, took the body, and left? I thought there was a guard on duty.” Anger flowed from Dean, bitter and strong, like burnt

coffee. “There was. Sam was here until a silent alarm was tripped at the jewelry store on Main, 911 received an accident with injury report out on 37, and someone lit up a Dumpster outside the grocery store. It set the siding on fire before the fire department was able to put it out. Sam handled all those calls on his own. “When he got back here a couple hours later, all the doors were still locked. He had no idea anything was wrong until the coroner arrived this morning. Then they found the jug of oil on the reception counter and the missing cat. The lock doesn’t look like it’s been tampered with. So either these guys were let in, or they had a key.” Luke rubbed a hand over his face. “All right. Why were you so shorthanded last night?” Dean’s jaw bunched and Luke heard his molars grinding together. “Ellis and I were out in Spokane County last night following something up.” A side door opened and Deputy Sam Vogel walked in. Color drained from his face in a rush. “Alpha, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. I should have called the other deputies in, but I didn’t want to wake them. They’re human and I thought I could handle everything myself. I didn’t know—” “Sam. Don’t.” Luke squeezed the kid’s shoulder. “It’s okay. If you’d been here, you might have been hurt. These guys aren’t afraid to kill.” Head down, Sam nodded. The guilt poured off him in a sour-smelling wave. “Whatcha find, Sam?” Dean asked gently. The young deputy’s head snapped up, anger burning in his eyes. “Assholes hit the computer files, too.” Dean swore viciously. Sam nodded his agreement. “Looks like they wiped the files clean.”

“Guess it was too much to hope for,” Dean said. He turned to Luke. “The paper files on the shifter are missing. Fingerprints, pictures, autopsy notes, et cetera. And now...” “The electronic ones, too,” Luke finished for him. “They really don’t want us identifying him.” Dean obviously had more bad news to share. They waited until Sam excused himself and left. Once they heard the office door close, Dean said, “Last night we found the mechanic from the airfield in Spokane. Dead.” “Of course he was.” “Guy’s neck was broken and his car dumped into a lake. Kind of dumb, actually. They should’ve just left the car somewhere isolated or in a storage shed or something. The broken ice on the lake might as well have been a beacon. They wanted us to know they’d killed him.” “What makes you say that?” Luke asked. “Well, first off, you don’t twist your neck clear around in a crash like that. So the guy was dead before the car went in the water. And then, of course, there was all the goddamned fucking citronella all over the place.” That explained Dean’s eyes. “This was last night?” “Uh-huh. Ellis got a call from the Spokane County sheriff when the car’s plates matched our search request. Ellis insisted we both go.” “Why didn’t you call me last night? I should’ve heard from you way before now.” “I didn’t want to bother you with it until I knew something. You were with Izzy.” Guilt settled in Luke’s gut like an oil slick. “I’m sorry. I —” “No, man. No.” Dean clamped a huge hand on his shoulder. “You were where you needed to be. There’s no fighting the mating dance. Believe me, I know. Besides, there was nothing you could’ve done about it anyway. We

didn’t get back until after 2:00 a.m. Then we had to deal with all the paperwork and follow-up on the emergency calls. I was planning on calling you first thing this morning, but then this shit happened.” Luke couldn’t fault Dean for doing what needed to be done. It was his job as Beta. Especially since the Alpha had his head up his own ass. “All right. Where is Ellis anyway?” “At the station dealing with the Feds.” A second passed. Two. Dean took a deep breath, let it out. “It’s just...” He shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Ellis is acting weird. Or, I guess, weirder than normal. I should’ve been on duty here last night.” Hell. Luke’s wolf bared his teeth and snarled. Dean held up his hands. “Look, I don’t know if he got me out of the way on purpose or if I’m just being a paranoid asshole.” “The line between caution and paranoia is fucking thin these days, huh?” Dragging his hands through his hair, Luke tried to imagine what reason the sheriff could have for working against the pack. “If Ellis wanted to take over the pack, he could challenge us for it.” And he might win. “Yeah, but would he have any support from the pack?” Dean asked. “He has a few admirers, but a lot more are like Terry and Marianne, bigots about his dual-animal heritage. They don’t care if he’s only a wolf. His mom’s an eagle, and that’s that. He may be able to beat both of us in a fight, but not the entire pack if they don’t want to follow him.” Was that what was happening? Was Ellis creating chaos to shore up support for his bid for dominance? Luke’s wolf was curiously silent on the matter. “Look,” Luke said. “Darren Ellis gave everything to this pack, and he loved Vaughn. We’ll keep an eye on him, but we can’t toss around accusations without any proof. We owe Darren that much.”

“Agreed.” Dean rubbed his eyes again. “As far as the mechanic goes, we’re right back to the new moon: participant or patsy? And the more I think about it, the less I like the possibilities.” “Like the possibility the bomb in Freddie’s helicopter was rigged someplace else?” “Yeeeeah,” Dean said. Luke’s wolf curled his lip. “Someplace like here?” “Yeah. Fuck.” “’Bout sums up the situation.” Because they both knew what it meant if the bomb was installed at the local airfield. A place protected by the pack. Vaughn or not, they had a traitor.

Chapter Thirty-One Bright sunshine and a cold breeze welcomed Izzy as she pushed through the sheriff’s office doors. Her head ached and her stomach rumbled despite the huge breakfast and recent snack. The alarm in the federal investigator’s eyes as he’d taken in her scrawny appearance convinced her that one more Boston cream wouldn’t hurt. When she’d looked in the mirror this morning, even she thought she looked skeletal. Bess had too before she died. Thanks for that, Grandmother, you heartless bitch. “Thank God that’s over,” Freddie said, clomping behind her on his crutches. “After-accident interviews suck.” No doubt. Especially when you had to lie to the FBI and NTSB. Good thing Izzy had the convenient excuse of a concussion and shock to explain her “wandering off.” The still nasty wound on her forearm didn’t hurt her believability factor either. “Did you have any problems?” Lena Wyland asked in a low voice as she pulled her keys from a pocket. “Not really,” Izzy said. “Thanks for bringing us.” Lena beamed. “Not a problem.” It was so strange being around weres like this, letting them take you places, maybe even watch your back. Not that she was leaving all their protection to a werewolf. Before they left the house, she’d made sure she and Freddie were both armed—with silver ammo this time. An electric shiver raced over Izzy’s body, leaving goose bumps. She turned to see Luke’s truck pull into the lot. Freddie glowered at him when Luke joined them. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Luke ignored him and took her hand. “All right, sugar? You smell like grief.” Damned bloodhound. “Yeah? What’s that smell like?” she asked. “A funeral parlor? Half-dead flowers and mothballs? Teen Spirit?” Luke’s mouth twitched. “Grumpy, too, huh? Sounds like you need to relax. Let’s go home.” Super. She loved the Dodds, but how many more lies would she have to tell today? As if guessing her thoughts, Luke said, “Not to Rissa and Freddie’s. My home.” Oh, hell no. Not a good idea. She already was far too aware of this werewolf. She needed distance, not— Planting a crutch dangerously near Luke’s foot, Freddie said, “Remember what we talked about.” The scowl on Luke’s face could curdle milk, but he gave her brother a stiff nod. “What?” she asked. Neither man answered, since they were too busy trying to outdo one another in a death stare contest. Lena rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother, sweetie. There’s no cure for testosterone poisoning.” She flicked her son’s arm. “How’d it go at the morgue?” Izzy tugged her hand from his grasp. Luke sighed. “Someone took the cougar’s body and left a gallon jug of citronella oil as a souvenir.” Freddie swore. “Pretty much,” Luke said. “Also, the missing mechanic from the Spokane airport was found murdered last night. And before he and his car were dumped in a lake, someone doused the inside with citronella.” More swearing from Freddie. Izzy had barely spoken to the mechanic, but that didn’t stop the wave of anger rising in her. “Someone’s playing

with you guys.” “I’m damn tired of the game.” After Luke scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, he asked, “Where are your parents?” “Are they in danger?” Izzy asked, heart in her throat and the beast inside buzzing. “No. I’m just being cautious.” “They’re fine, Iz,” Freddie said. “Mom’s with Rissa, Marianne, and Daphne. And a few of the guys are taking Dad around to see some of the sights. They’re supposed to bring him to meet me at the airfield for a tour in”—he checked his watch—“about half an hour.” “Okay, good,” Luke said. A maroon truck and sheriff’s department SUV pulled into the lot. He waved to the new arrivals, beckoning them over. “Mom, can you take Freddie? I—” Luke’s gaze shot over her shoulder, to the station door, and he stiffened. The Native American sheriff, Vaughn Ellis, stood framed in the door talking to someone in the station that Izzy couldn’t see. Dean, Rick, and another were walked up to their suddenly tense quartet. She wanted to get the hell out of there. Despite the winter chill, sweat dripped down her back. Her skin tightened and tingled like she’d gotten too close to a campfire. She needed to move. “Isabelle.” Luke’s firm tone snapped her head up. Gold pulsed around his pupils and the itchy feeling under her skin subsided. “One more minute,” he murmured to her. In a normal voice, he said, “Isabelle, this is Dev Crandall. He’s a helicopter pilot, too. He was the one who flew Freddie and Jenny Erlington out.” The male nodded but didn’t try to shake her hand. “Thank you,” she said. “The conditions were terrible.” Dev smiled and his graying goatee glinted in the sun.

“Nah, I had the easy job. My mate, Liz, and all the on-theground searchers had the real work of it.” “You’ve already met Rick,” Luke said in a flat voice. “One of our trackers.” “Daphne’s mate, right?” she said, hoping he wouldn’t try to shake hands either. Her joints hurt. “Right,” Rick said, thankfully keeping his hands to himself. “Hope you’re feeling better. I helped search for you guys.” “I am. Thanks for the assist.” Luke’s jaw bunched as Sheriff Ellis joined them. With a quick, subtle step, Luke maneuvered Izzy between himself and Lena. Unease bubbled in her stomach and the wolf buzzed in her head. Lip curled like the wolf he was, Luke wrapped his arm around her side. The gesture screamed possession, like he might throw her over his shoulder, caveman-style, at any moment. Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird or anything. Pretty much par for the creeptastic course she couldn’t seem to get off. She poked Luke in the side and tried to act more confident than she was. Fake it ’til you make it seemed like a good motto right now. “Okay, buddy. Time to go.” She left the before the chest-thumping starts unsaid. They could argue about their destination in the truck. The sheriff’s gaze swung to her, and damn it, there went her feigned nonchalance. A cold sweat broke out over her skin every time a were paid any attention to her. It was a weakness she couldn’t allow. And one the sheriff noticed. His smoke-gray eyes made her feel like a bug under a microscope. “Shit,” Dean muttered, and presto, Luke was standing firmly between her and Ellis. She hadn’t even seen him move.

Freddie touched her back, light as a feather. “Easy,” he whispered. There were faces in the station windows and doorway now. Like the werewolves in the parking lot, they were all frozen, their attention rapt. The air seemed to vibrate with aggression. “You frightened her,” Luke said, glaring at Ellis. His words were quiet, and filled with censure. But even under the weight of the Alpha’s disapproval, the sheriff didn’t look away. A subvocal growl from Luke scratched along her nerves, and Ellis took a slow step back. Though he gave ground, the move didn’t convey an ounce of submission. In fact, Izzy thought he was just looking for more room to maneuver. “That wasn’t my intent,” Ellis said. His voice sounded rougher. Were his eyes starting to glow? Her brain offered up several scenes from her nightmarish memories of glowing gold eyes and she shivered. “Luke,” she said, trying to speak past the lump of terror growing in her throat. “He didn’t do anything. My fault. Conditioned reaction. My fault.” Ellis looked at her again, his nostrils flared. Luke growled. Sometime during the confrontation, Dean had slid to a position at Luke’s left flank. A move she recognized would allow him to protect his Alpha’s weak side. She gave him an imploring look, because so far he’d seemed like a reasonable man. She remembered him trying to defuse the tension when they’d met at the airfield, too. His green eyes, very much like Luke’s, met her gaze. Dean shook his head once. “Why are you afraid?” Ellis asked again, leaning to the side to see her around the shield of Luke’s body. Luke obviously didn’t like that. His hands fisted and a

wave of power flowed from him, sparking over her skin like static shocks. He moved to block her from Ellis’s view again. “She is not your concern.” Ellis shook his head. “I have three dead humans, and suits crawling all over the place. If she—” “Not. Your. Concern.” More menacing than a roar, Luke’s soft, quiet voice raised all the hair on Izzy’s body. All eyes were on them, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. Some sort of violence certainly. Except for Freddie, everyone was a were, and their eyes gleamed with the power of their beasts. Was this a dominance thing? Was Ellis challenging Luke for position? A chill settled over her that had nothing to do with her own fear. Her grandmother had told her weres did this all the time and the fights were usually to the death. “Bloodthirsty animals. Every disagreement ends with claws and gore.” Not today. And not because she was acting like a useless coward. Izzy wasn’t some shrinking violet to cower behind the big, strong man. It was past time she started acting like it. She pushed against Luke’s back. “Enough,” she said. Luke didn’t budge. “Enough,” she repeated. Another low growl vibrated through Luke’s chest. Izzy felt it under her hand. “Do you really want to do this, Vaughn?” he asked. Despite the coiled promise of bloodshed in his body, his words sounded bored. Condescending, even. Anger flashed across the sheriff’s face. “I’m doing my job, Luke. People are dead. If she knows anything about it, I have to pursue that. The timing of Ms. Meyers’s arrival and recent events seem more than coincidental.”

“Screw you, Vaughn,” Freddie snarled. “Are you implying I sabotaged my brother’s helicopter?” Izzy asked, incredulous. “The same one I was flying in?” Luke didn’t give Ellis a chance to answer. “If we’re discussing telling coincidences, I think your return a year and a half ago might be the more pressing one.” Ellis jerked like he’d been slapped. “My uncle died, too.” “Yeah, he did,” Luke said silkily. “And you stepped right into his job.” “If you really believed that, you’d never have let me stay, let alone become sheriff.” “Maybe I haven’t decided yet.” Izzy had no idea what they were talking about, but it had gone on long enough. She pinched Luke’s side and spun out from behind his back. “Luke. Stop it. I don’t know what the history is with you guys, and honestly, I don’t give a shit right now. There are three federal investigators inside that building. I really don’t want to explain whatever the hell this is to them. I think you boys need to go to your separate corners for a while.” Finally, Dean stepped closer to the two bristling males. “Izzy’s right. We’re letting our frayed emotions get in the way of our reason. Let’s all just—” “Shut up, Simmons,” Ellis said, setting off a wave of gasps. Dean’s green eyes sparked with gold. “Okay!” Izzy grabbed Luke’s arm. “That’s enough pissing on a tree for today. Let’s go. Freddie?” Lena and Freddie headed for her SUV. Luke snorted. To Ellis he said, “This discussion is not over.” “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.” Shaking her head, Izzy hauled Luke away from the weres. Most seemed stunned, but a few looked positively thrilled with the show.

Chapter Thirty-Two Damn Vaughn. Hands clenched on the steering wheel, Luke took a deep breath, willing his grumbling wolf to settle down, because his agitation was only adding to Isabelle’s. Her pulse hammered against the column of her throat and the scent of her wolf filled the truck’s cab. If she shifted now without consciously initiating the change, there’d never be any trust between her and the wolf. Without signaling, he pulled the truck off the road. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “We need a breath of fresh air.” They weren’t far from his cabin or the pack house. If they walked through the dense copse of trees, they’d be able to enjoy the cold breeze rippling over the lake, carrying the scent of cedar and pine, and of snow-covered earth. Opening his door, he chanced a glance at Isabelle. The glare she sent his way made his wolf hunker down and cover his snout with a paw. The beast’s raised brow said, You’re on your own. Coward, Luke told him, earning a huff of indignation. He walked around the front of the truck to Isabelle’s door. She flung it open, almost catching him in the stomach, and slid out. Anger rode her sharp cheekbones in a red flush. Like her wolf had last night, she paced in a tight arc, her boots grinding against the dirt and gravel on the side of the road. Seconds ticked by as she prowled, her scent colored with temper and fear. Then, as if she’d closed a door on her panic —and her wolf—Isabelle straightened, in control once more. Speaking quietly, as if to herself, she said, “I have no

idea how to handle you.” That made two of them. A shining black Ford Expedition hummed down the road and slowed as it neared their truck. Luke waved at Stefan and gestured for the older wolf to continue on. Stefan shrugged, then tossed off a salute. “This road leads to the pack house. There’s always a stream of people coming and going,” Luke said. He took her hand and pulled her toward the trees. “Come on. There’s a better place through here where we can talk without an audience.” Isabelle sighed. “Fine.” Evergreen boughs brushed their heads as he tugged her along the snow-and-pine-needle-covered path. Luke had to duck to avoid the jutting limbs of Douglas fir and western hemlock, but their dense coverage meant the snow was little more than a dusting along the trail. While they walked, he was as attuned to Isabelle as his own body. Every single hitch in her breath, each footfall resonated within him like the echo of his own heartbeat. And she was afraid. About thirty feet in, the thick copse gave way to a stand of spindly lodgepole pines and the meandering shore of Black Robe Lake. The overcast sky lay like a cozy gray blanket above them, turning the clear water slate-green. Isabelle pulled her hand from his, her eyes darting to a group of crows swooping in and out of the trees on the opposite shore. She scanned the scene Luke found so peaceful with an intensity and vigilance that raised the hair on his neck. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sniffing for danger. His wolf’s ears pricked, listening. “Luke, I don’t know what the hell is going on.” She scrutinized him. “I think you’re probably a good guy.”

“Gee, thanks.” She ignored his comment. “So, I’m trying to use my head and not act out of fear and bigotry. I get that my upbringing was totally messed up and I have a skewed perspective on things. But every bit of logic in me says I should grab my family and run.” Run? The hell she would. His beast growled in agreement. “No one would have hurt you, Isabelle. I wouldn’t have allowed it.” “Right. Since I arrived, Freddie’s helicopter has been sabotaged, and at least three people have been murdered. You told me there’re others missing. You keep stepping between me and your pack and acting like I’m in danger. I’m not supposed to find that threatening? What about Hank and Abby?” Shit, she was right. With his own actions and reactions, he’d added to her trauma. She stopped in front of him, her boots nearly touching his. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know.” Admitting that cut as deep as claws. But she misunderstood. “Come on. You’re going to have to cut me some slack and ignore it when I get freaked. I can’t help my physiological responses. But just because I’m afraid doesn’t mean I’m some useless coward.” Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t one of them. “Isabelle, it’s my job to protect you.” “Why? Because you’re the Alpha?” Because you’re mine, he almost blurted. “It’s not that simple.” “Well, simplify it for me. Is it because I’m a woman?” A bark of laughter escaped him. “Have you met Rissa? Or her mother? Or my mother, for that matter? Any one of

them, and a dozen more females in the pack, would rip my balls off and serve them up as Rocky Mountain oysters if I ever suggested they needed special protection because of their gender. Sugar, I may be dumb, but even I am not that brand of stupid.” “Oysters? What—ew. Is that really a thing? No. No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” A shudder sent her ponytail bouncing. “All right. Then what’s with the caveman act?” He scrubbed a hand over his aching head. Isabelle wasn’t ready to hear about being his mate yet, but she still deserved the truth. At least as much as he could give her. “I’m a dominant lycanthrope. Part of it is it’s simply my nature to be protective. You must understand that. You’re the same way. From the moment you got here, you’ve been guarding someone: Freddie, your passengers, Rissa. Some people— human or shifter—just need to take care of others. Like Abby and Hank.” Her eyes went wide again at that, and an almost-smile brightened her face. “I’m afraid you bring out the Cro-Magnon in me, sugar. It’s not because I think you’re weak. Hell, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. But, well...you just inspire the instinct. Can’t it be as simple as that? I want to take care of you.” “I don’t really let people do that.” “I’ve noticed.” She gave him a dry look. “What’s your problem with the sheriff?” she asked, throwing another curveball at him. Luke sighed. “Vaughn is...” Different. Secretive. Maybe a bad guy. “Complicated,” he said, finally. “His mother is an eagle shifter.” “Huh? I thought he was a werewolf.” “He is,” he said. “It’s not uncommon for lycanthropes to

have human mates. But it’s rare for shifters from different animal breeds to get together.” “Why?” He shrugged. “A lot of people believe the child of two different shifters will turn out...wrong. Evil, maybe. It’s superstitious bullshit, but it leaves a mark, you know? Vaughn’s always been a bit of an outsider because of it.” “Sounds like I’m not the only bigot around here.” Luke winced. “It doesn’t help that Vaughn hasn’t always lived here with the pack. When his dad died, his mother, Rose, took him back to her own people in Arizona. He spent his summers here, but he didn’t make a lot of friends. Honestly...he just rubs my fur the wrong way.” “And...?” Observant little wolf. “And, he might have arranged for Dean to not be at the morgue last night.” “Christ,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “What was Vaughn talking about? What happened to his uncle?” A blade of regret stabbed him in the heart, reopening barely scabbed-over wounds. He took a few lurching steps toward the water, his boots crunching over the icy ground. “His uncle, Darren, was our sheriff and Beta. Until he was murdered.” Isabelle sucked in a short breath. “When?” “A little over a year ago. Fifteen months. Fifteen months and eight days ago.” It felt like yesterday. “He wasn’t the only one.” Bile burned the back of Luke’s throat and he sucked in a hit of his mate’s scent. Her presence alone calmed the roiling storm in his heart. “My dad, Greg, was our Alpha,” he continued. “We’re not sure why, but he and Darren went out to one of the more isolated areas of the territory. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for them to make a spontaneous patrol like

that. But...” He shook his head. “We know that somewhere along the way, they met up with Dean’s sister, Maggie, and Rissa’s youngest sister, Tara.” A perfect picture of the bright young females laughing, dancing, and raising hell flashed in his mind. Tara, with her red curls, looked so much like Daphne, it hurt sometimes to look at the other female now. And Maggie...his clever, sharp-tongued cousin— “Luke?” Isabelle touched his arm and he squeezed her hand, keeping it in his suddenly ice-cold fingers. “Maggie and Dean are my cousins, you know. Their mom and my dad—well, doesn’t matter.” He laughed, heard the slightly manic quality to it, tasted the bitterness. “Maggie was a pain in the ass. First class. I mean, a giant tagalong and scold. Never shut up. And oh my God, the mouth on her. She makes you sound like Pollyanna.” Isabelle smiled at that. “Yeah,” he said. “You two would have got along fine.” He kissed her knuckles, rubbing them over his lips. His wolf pressed against his shields, seeking their mate’s touch, too. “What happened?” she asked, stepping closer, lending him her gentle heat. “The girls were out camping, something they did all the time. They must have come upon my dad and Darren on the trail. It had snowed a lot the week before, but the area was stable. Or at least, it should have been. We’re very careful about watching out for avalanche conditions.” “Guess you’d have to be, out here,” she said. He nodded as his stomach churned. “My mom knew something was wrong right away. She felt it through the mate bond and just knew.” The dull, resigned echo in his mother’s voice still haunted him at nights. “I wasn’t here,” he said, laying out his sin. “I was out of

town looking at some property. I’d dragged Dean along—” His throat tightened with self-hatred. “My dad and I—we —” Isabelle wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head on his chest. Luke sucked in a shocked breath. How could she stand to touch him? Didn’t she see how he’d failed? He didn’t deserve her understanding. But he was a selfish bastard. Which, of course, had been the problem then, too. Guess he hadn’t changed much, because he dropped his face into her hair and breathed her in. Drawing back, he looked into Isabelle’s eyes. They were swimming and full of sympathy. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “It was supposed to look like an avalanche. Just another accident in a dangerous place. But bullet wounds leave a mark. So do claws.” “Shit,” she breathed. “Their bodies—” Darren’s big, tough body, crumpled and crushed beneath sheared-off trees. A pair of neat holes in his shirt over his heart. Tara’s red hair a dull flame against the snow. One side of her face a mask of torn, raw flesh. A scorched bullet hole in her stomach. Maggie’s bright green eyes, cloudy in death, staring at the pitiless blue sky, from a head turned awkwardly on a broken neck. And his father— Christ, Jesus, his father. Luke had only managed to identify him by scent. “They smashed my dad’s face in like a tin can. And—” The words died in his mouth. How could he tell his mate, who’d just witnessed another man’s evisceration, about what had been done to his father? “Motherfuckers,” Isabelle said, startling him. Her eyes glowed gold. “Yeah.”

“Who was it?” There. The linchpin of his shame. “I haven’t found them yet.”

Chapter Thirty-Three “Do we really have to do this?” Good God, did Izzy sound as whiny to Luke as she did in her head? A peek through her lashes revealed him leaning against his kitchen counter, arms crossed and that I’m-the-Alpha-and-I-have-spoken look on his face. His log cabin was surprisingly sleek and modern. City girl that she was, Izzy had been expecting something a little more rustic than soapstone counters and stainless-steel appliances. Large windows flooded the room with light, reflecting off the polished kitchen table and chairs. “Which part? Lunch or changing?” Both, she wanted to say, but didn’t. Dark circles underlined his haunted eyes. If there was one thing she understood, it was the guilt of being left behind. And now, instead of helping to search for whoever was messing with his pack, he was stuck babysitting her. She wouldn’t add to his burden by wussing out on what she’d promised to do. She glared at the enormous turkey sandwich on the table in front of her. It looked awesome and smelled even better, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. Do it. She didn’t move. I’m gonna eat that. She ignored her stinging scar. Not real. It’s healed. Pick up the damn sandwich. Her fingers twitched. Pick. It. Up. She took a deep breath and...nope. Nothing. Swearing, she flung herself back in her seat. Luke sighed and came to her side. Squatting down, he ran his knuckles over her cheek. “I don’t get it, sugar. You’ve done this.” “I know, goddammit. I know.”

She stared so hard at the sandwich, it should have levitated to her mouth. Getting her hands to join the party was proving impossible, though. She trembled with the effort to move against the razor wire restraints in her head. “Little monsters. Filthy, evil beasts.” Grandmother’s words boiled like oil in her brain, greasy and thick. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’m trying,” she said, her breath shuddering out of her. “But denying the wolf, denying my hunger, it’s all I know. My whole life, everything I’ve done has been with one goal in mind: to keep the monster from getting out. It’s not easy overcoming a lifetime of conditioning in just a few days.” Hands of iron banded around Izzy’s arms. “You. Are. Not. A. Monster,” Luke said, his voice strangled with emotion. She looked into his flashing green eyes and something cracked—a fissure in the stone cage her grandmother wrought, so his words could slip inside. She whispered, “I know.” “Do you?” Her heart pounded in her throat. “Starting to.” Luke sat and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping her in his warm embrace. “Who did that to you, sugar? Who told you you’re a monster?” Close. He was so close. His warm, outdoorsy scent flooded her senses, loosening the restraints wrapped around her wolf. The creature stirred in her mind as if watching, listening. “Grandmother,” she said, gasping. Forcing out that one word was like swallowing hot coals. Every scar and healed bone pulsed with remembered agony. They were never supposed to tell. Never. But Izzy had once before. And it had saved her and Bess from the utter hell of their life. Nothing that followed was as horrible as the years with their grandmother.

Maybe if she told Luke about her past, he’d be better equipped to help her learn to control the wolf. That more than anything needed to happen. She’d be damned if she’d prove her grandmother right and end up like Bess—a murderer. “Grandmother was human,” Izzy said, “but she knew about lycanthropes, said she knew all about little monsters like us. She—” She choked back the bile rising in her throat. “Oh, sugar,” Luke murmured, stroking her hair. “You know the worst part? She wasn’t always like that. Or at least we don’t think she was. We remember her singing. Smiling at us. Laughing.” Izzy’s own laugh was full of bitter ashes. “Laughing. Jesus. That part definitely must have been a fantasy.” She laughed again, because the only alternative was screaming. “We. Listen to me. I still talk about Bess as if she were alive. Like I could ignore this”—she slapped her chest —“empty. Fucking. Hole.” Luke caught her hand before she could hit herself where it hurt the most again. His eyes held hers, grave and full of compassion. “Don’t,” he said. He kissed her palm, kept her hand. She looked away, unable to stand the kindness. “Somehow Grandmother escaped the night the pack attacked. I don’t know what happened, other than she saw them kill my grandfather.” Her grandmother’s voice pounded at her as if the bitch was in the room. “Those filthy beasts tore him apart. Animals. That’s what they are. What you two are.” “She said Bess and I would grow up to be just like the weres that attacked our parents and grandfather. That we’d turn on everyone we loved, too. That’s why—” Izzy gulped, her throat dry as bone. “That’s why she needed to kill the things inside us.”

Luke’s snarl vibrated the windows. It hurt her ears, and she cringed. “Sorry,” he rasped, sounding more like a wolf than a man. “It’s okay,” she said, meaning it. His anger on her behalf was a palpable thing. Tension sang through his body like a motor winding up, yet his arms around her remained gentle. “That’s why you don’t eat meat,” Luke said, his voice guttural. “She was trying to starve your wolf to death?” “Yes.” More snarling. “What else?” The memories swirled in her head like a vicious downdraft, waiting to catch her and smash her on the rocks. Aching, empty bellies. A cold cement floor in a damp basement with boarded-up windows. Hard hands instead of warm hugs. Her sister locked away from her. “I’ve got you,” Luke whispered. “She can’t get you here.” Izzy shuddered and buried her face in his neck, holding on tight. “We had a house in Chicago. It wasn’t very nice.” An understatement. Peeling paint inside and out. Rats the size of boot boxes in the overgrown bushes. Roaches in the cupboards. “Bess and I were always holding on to one another. Grandmother said we acted like mongrel puppies, whining and crying, climbing all over each other. Said we needed to learn how to stand on our own like human beings. She put us in separate storage closets in the basement.” “Christ.” Luke’s eyes glowed so brightly it was like looking into an inferno. “She locked you apart for comforting one another? Twins? Lycanthrope twins? Fucking hell. How old were you?” “About five.” Luke swore for a long time. He seemed like he wanted to pace or hit something. “You can put me down if you want,” she said. Please don’t put me down.

“Never,” he said with absolute finality. He scrubbed a hand over his messy hair. “And your scars?” Her head ached and she rubbed her forehead against his chest. “Punishments for...” Everything. Being late. Coming home too early. Sitting too close to each other. Asking for more food. Crying. For breaking a bone when she hit them with the fireplace poker or pushed them down the stairs and they had to go to the hospital. She shrugged helplessly. Her tongue was plastered to the roof of her mouth. “Here, sugar.” Luke held a glass of water to her lips. “How did no one notice what was going on? Teachers? Doctors? No one caught on?” “Grandmother was charming when she wanted to be. Beautiful. She baked cookies for our elderly neighbors. Spread stories about how difficult and damaged Bess and I were. How violent we were with each other. They thought we were just this side of raving psychos. “And there were no teachers. Not until we were eight and a new social worker finally stepped in. Before that, Grandmother told them she was homeschooling us because we were so problematic. When the social worker came for a home visit, she realized we could barely write our names, let alone read. I mean, why bother trying to educate an animal? All our school supplies were just for show. We weren’t actually allowed to touch them.” Izzy rubbed at a lump high up on her left thigh where the buckle of a belt had cut into her. Luke noticed and held his hand over the spot. “For looking at a book?” “No, no,” she said. “For opening it. ‘Look with your eyes, not with your hands’ was one of her favorite sayings.” “God. Then you were able to go to school?” “Yeah. We were so freakin’ happy about that, too. Or at least I was,” she added, remembering Bess’s terror at

leaving their prison and warden. “What if we hurt someone?” Izzy rubbed at the hollow space in her heart where her sister should be. “Bess had a harder time adjusting. She believed our grandmother when she said we were monsters who would kill our friends. So much so, she couldn’t even pretend to make friends or fit in. At first this made Grandmother happy, but then she realized Bess’s behavior was attracting unwanted attention.” “How so?” “Counselors and therapists were called in. Parent-teacher conferences were scheduled.” Hand over a rippling white line on her abdomen from a hot curling iron, Izzy looked into Luke’s wolf eyes. “She made damn sure we knew to keep our mouths shut.” It took several seconds for him to speak. “How long did this go on?” Izzy reached for the water glass on the table. Before her fingers made contact, Luke lifted it to her mouth again, helping her drink. Just as well, since her hands were shaking so badly she would have slopped it all over both of them. The wolf inside her had been weirdly quiet, like it was cowed by the memories of Grandmother. But now it practically shouted. Only Izzy couldn’t understand the words, if there were any. The drone grew louder and louder until she thought her head might explode. “Isabelle, open your eyes. Look at me,” Luke said, holding her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Shh, little wolf.” He kissed her forehead and blessed warmth spread into her frozen body. The racket dulled to a low thrum and she sighed in relief. “You can stop,” he said. “No, I have to get it out.” Luke shifted her on his lap, pulling her impossibly closer

so she felt every beat of his heart along her side. He stroked her hair. “Okay, sugar. Whatever you need.” “One day when we were twelve, I came home late from school. I had to stay after to make up a test I missed.” Because the bruises on her face had still been too vivid to hide. “I knew as soon as I walked in the door that something was wrong.” She snorted. “More wrong. There was this weird smell, like if you let an engine run without oil in it, all hot and tinny. And I heard Bess. Crying. But it was worse than that. She sounded...” Like the animal Grandmother always accused her of being. The hair on Izzy’s neck rose as it had that day. “I didn’t call out for Bess. I followed the sound and it was coming from the basement.” More bile rose in her throat as she remembered opening the door. “She was lying on the landing, a few steps down. She wasn’t wearing a shirt. Before I could jump down to her, she raised her head and said, ‘Run.’” Remembered terror quaked through her as Bess’s swollen, bloody face loomed in her mind. “I didn’t get a chance.” Lightning pain had shot through her scalp as Grandmother caught her by her hair. Now, Izzy jerked back like she had that afternoon before she realized the pressure on her head was Luke gently prying her fingers from her hair. “Grandmother caught me and threw me to the ground. I don’t know why I struggled that day rather than any of the others. Maybe it was the smell or the broken look in Bess’s eyes. I don’t know. I just had to. “Grandmother had me facedown on the linoleum in the kitchen. She was tearing at my shirt and screaming something about the devil and evil and burning it out of us. I just kept bucking and slapping at her hands. It happened so fast, but it took forever, you know? My shirt ripped and I

saw the crucifix in Grandmother’s hand. I knew I did not want it to touch me. I fought, so hard, but I was so small, and she was—” Incomprehensible agony flared anew on her shoulder blade, and Izzy cried out. Luke’s body wrapped around hers as if he could shield her from an attack that happened seventeen years before. “I thought I’d known pain before,” Izzy said and Luke moaned. “But having iron that’s been held over the stove burner until it glows shoved against your bare skin...” She shook her head. “I don’t recommend it.” Luke’s laugh of disbelief sounded like he was choking. Tears ran down her face and she dashed them away with a quick hand. “That sort of pain, smelling your own flesh burning—I snapped. I may have been small, starving, and terrified, but I was also fucking pissed. I fought that bitch with everything I had. I think it surprised her. Neither of us had ever raised a hand to her before. I hit her in the face with my backpack and she screamed. While she raged at me some more about Satan and filthy demon weres I managed to scramble to the kitchen table. I picked up a chair and smacked her with it.” What happened next was a big blur. “I don’t know how I got Bess out of the house or onto the city bus, but the police report says I informed the driver that my sister needed a hospital and he’d better step on it. Then I passed out.” “My God, Isabelle—” “You know why my grandmother completely lost her mind that day?” Eyes gleaming with tears, Luke shook his head. “Why?” “Because one of our neighbors, Mr. Henderson, saw Bess coming home from school. He worked at a local diner and had brought home a sack of burgers for his kids. He had an extra one and gave it to Bess. She ate it. And Grandmother

saw her. “My twelve-year-old sister, who weighed sixty-two pounds, ate a leftover burger from a greasy spoon and our grandmother nearly killed us for it.” *** Luke held Isabelle for a long time. His wolf paced and snarled in his head, looking for something to savage. “Christ,” Luke said. Again. He wasn’t sure if he was swearing or praying, but he’d been saying it a lot since his mate had stopped talking and settled into his arms. She wasn’t crying. Though, he wanted to. For her. For Bess and the childhood they should have had. And for everything he’d been putting her through since they met. Tipping her chin up so he could look into her eyes, he said, “I’m sorry. Not just about what happened to you, but for how I’ve been pushing you. I—” Isabelle’s fingers pressed against his lips. “Luke, don’t. You didn’t know. I hate admitting this, but you were right. I’m only hurting myself and making myself more unstable by following what that old bitch wanted.” Grinning, he nipped her fingertips. “Can you repeat that?” “What?” “That I’m right. You know I love that. Wait. Let me get my phone so I can record it.” She rolled her eyes and elbowed him. “Jerk.” The amusement lightening her eyes made him feel like he could accomplish anything. Such as... “Think you’re ready to try some lunch now?” “Yeah,” she sighed. “Bring on the scary turkey.” Brave female. “Great. And then we’ll go out for a short run. The snow’s all powder right now. It’ll make it easier on your paws until we toughen them up.”

She sucked in a fortifying breath and the hot pepper odor of fear rose in the air. For a moment, he thought he’d have to argue with her. But then she nodded, her jaw tight. “Yeah. Bring that on, too,” she said. “Can’t think of a better eff you to my grandmother than that.” Reluctantly, he slid Isabelle back onto her own chair. As he watched her tackle her sandwich, the pleasure of feeding his mate dimmed with a thought that had been niggling at the back of his mind. “Isabelle, your grandmother, is she...” The glowing gold eyes of her wolf looked up at him. “She’s dead.” There was only one answer to that. “Good.”

Chapter Thirty-Four “Do you need help getting undressed?” Izzy froze at Luke’s loaded question. Fingers tangled in her bootlaces, she remembered how he’d helped her last night. The feel of his hot hands and even hotter gaze burning on her skin still lingered. She blushed right to her hairline. “Um, no,” she said. “I—uh... I think I’ve got it.” The damned man grinned at her. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he said as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Wait!” “Something wrong?” Yes! You’re taking off your clothes. “Uh...” When his shirt slipped from his shoulders—his very broad shoulders —she forgot what she was going to say. Scanning his yard, she prayed something helpful might materialize out of the trees. It didn’t. Seemingly reading her mind, he said, “We’re werewolves, Isabelle. The change is much easier if you’re not hampered by clothing. I told you, nudity is a standard state of affairs around here.” Logical. Embarrassing. And inappropriately arousing given that Luke was preparing to lead her on a run through the woods. “Fine,” she said. “Um, can you turn around, at least?” “It’s not like we haven’t both seen the whole show before, sugar.” His long fingers worked the button on his jeans. Despite the cold and snow, Izzy started sweating. “You know that’s not the point.” His eyes glimmered with amusement. “Fine. Fine. I’ll

turn my back. You don’t have to, though. I’m not shy.” “Oh, shut up.” It wasn’t like she wanted to check him out. Much. His laugh echoed off the trees and birds twittered back at him. “Jackass,” she muttered to his continued laughter, and turned away from him. After undressing, she shivered in the afternoon sun, her feet turning to ice. She would not look at him. Nope. Not gonna happen. She peeked. And suddenly, it didn’t seem so cold out. There were marble statues in museums that didn’t have butts as firm as Luke’s. And his back— “Are you ogling me, sugar?” To her shame, she squeaked. If Freddie ever heard her make that ridiculously girly noise there’d be no end to her mortification. “N-no. Of course not.” Luke turned his head slightly, not enough to see her, more like to catch her scent on the breeze. He grinned. “Liar.” Damned freaking bloodhound. “Now what?” she asked over her shoulder, hoping he’d let the moment slide. “Now we change.” “Yeah. I was afraid you were gonna say that.” “Come on. It’s freezing in our skin. I promise to get you all the chocolate milk you can drink later. Let your wolf out, Isabelle.” Right. The wolf. Izzy scrunched up her face and waited for the pain to start. Five seconds passed. Ten. Well, what are you waiting for, wolf? Let’s go, before I freeze off something important. Ten more seconds. Still no change. Not even some extra hair on her legs. “Problem?” Luke asked, making her jump. As her misted breath dissipated over the back of his head, it dawned on her that he was suddenly standing right in front

of her. With his back turned. Unlike her. “Shit!” He chuckled. “Why so embarrassed? I did say you could look.” “Uh—” Her cheeks burned and she rubbed a hand over her eyes as if she could erase the fact that she’d cheated. “I know. I—ugh. This is stupid. Can you turn back around, please?” “You sure?” Was she? No. Yes. Uh, maybe? Damn it. It wasn’t like she was a virgin or prude. Why the hell did she keep acting like one? “I told you, nudity is a standard state of affairs around here.” Because he was a werewolf. For the love of—she would have smacked herself in the head for her density, but she’d already had a concussion this week. “Yes,” she said finally. “This is one more thing left over from my grandmother and I’m not playing her games anymore.” Slowly, Luke turned. The shining sun turned his eyes emerald. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling at her like she’d thrown the winning pass in the Super Bowl. “Brave wolf.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. “Not really.” A gentle hand cupped her chin and tilted her face up until she met his brilliant gaze. “Yes, really.” The distance between them shrank until his lips hovered millimeters above hers. His warmth surrounded her, though he didn’t touch her anywhere else but her chin. Despite the winter chill and snow, he smelled like a perfect autumn day, all sun-warmed stone and fallen leaves. She’d like to curl up in his heat and stay for a very long time. A shudder ran through him and he closed his eyes. “Ah, sugar. How you tempt me.” She gasped, but he was already

pulling back, his hand dropping from her face. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Right. Changing. You were having trouble?” Crap. Changing. Now she was the one closing her eyes. Suck it up, Meyers. You need to do this. “Um...well, how do I do it again? Nothing was really happening.” “It’s fine. Relax. Take a breath and listen to your wolf. Don’t worry. She’ll like it out here. We can play.” Play. “You make it sound so simple.” “It is.” “For you. You’ve been doing this—how long?” “Since I was four.” “Four?” Her shout scattered the birds. Luke shrugged. “I was precocious.” “Your poor mother.” “She loves to remind me how saintlike she is,” he said. “No more stalling. Rissa and my bloodthirsty saint of a mother will kill me if I don’t get you back on time for dinner. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Remember the feel of fur on your skin, and the wind in your ruff. Breathe in the scents around you: pine, cedar, and birch. The snow and earth. Let her out.” Izzy followed his instructions and she barely had time to register the buzzing sound in her head before pain washed over her. Here we go again. *** Once again, Izzy was stuck inside the wolf, fighting anxiety that bordered on hysteria. Was this dark, cold void where the wolf stayed? Condemned to observe but unable to act or effect any kind of change whatsoever? If so, she couldn’t blame the beast for hating her.

A growl rumbled through the beast’s body and echoed around Izzy. It continued, on and on, like the buzzing did when she wore her own skin. “Stop. It hurts,” Izzy whispered. The racket ended suddenly, replaced by a strange, almost inaudible sound like the hum of overhead lighting. It grew louder until she realized she could feel the noise, too. The soft, pulsing pressure enveloped her and reminded her of the time Hank and Abby had taken them to the ocean. Izzy had stood for a long time in the rolling waves, letting them push and pull at her legs. The undulating power had a rhythm to it, a certain cadence like someone speaking—someone she recognized. No way. Impossible. Was Luke trying to talk to her? Could the human half of the weres communicate with each other in their animal forms? Logically, it would make sense for the wolves to have a way to communicate in this form. But did it go beyond simple canine body language and vocalizations? Could the humans speak with one another, too? Insane. But what the hell did logic have to do with anything when dealing with shape-shifting and magic? She really should have asked more questions before they shifted. Another squeeze and tug. Luke? She didn’t understand it, but as soon as she accepted that it was possible he was trying to talk to her, some of her panic drained away on that ebb and flow. She wasn’t alone in the dark. Luke’s wolf barked once, a high, happy sound. Then he ran toward the trees, sending up great plumes of fluffy snow in his wake. Awkward, Izzy’s wolf leapt after the black beast, her paws slipping and sliding. A fallen tree lay in her path and she stumbled, then scrambled over it, trying to

catch up. The black wolf watched her clumsy advance with his tail held high, waving back and forth. A long, pink tongue hung out of his open mouth. Warmth blanketed Izzy in her strange, cold, not-there space. She heard the blood thrumming in her wolf’s veins and realized her wolf felt happy, too. Especially when the black beast lowered his front body to the ground with his hind end angled up. He wanted to play. Izzy’s wolf raced toward him, and just as she reached him, he reared up to dance on his hind legs. His front paws batted at her with a soft touch on the shoulder and back. She ducked out of the way and pounced on him from the side. He twisted and nipped gently at her chin, chuffing, before darting away. He was so fast and his legs were so much longer than her wolf’s, Izzy didn’t think they could catch him. But the black wolf ran only a few dozen feet before he paused and looked over his shoulder, waiting. Her wolf ran alongside him and together, they took off running, their sides rubbing occasionally. Whenever a difficult patch of terrain loomed ahead, the black wolf moved ahead and gently turned them. If Izzy’d had a body at the moment, she would have keeled over. Them. Them? Could she really be thinking of herself and the wolf as a team? Her wolf yipped, a scent tickling her nose. The black wolf stopped and twitched his ears, his nostrils flared. The scent was good and it made her stomach rumble with hunger, her mouth flood with saliva. No. Not her stomach. Not her mouth. Good as. The thought was not her own. They ran up a short incline. The scent grew stronger and a

small shadow broke from behind a tree and darted toward a tangle of undergrowth. Izzy’s wolf—or maybe it was Izzy, she couldn’t tell anymore—barked in surprise and let her body loose. Without thought, Izzy and her wolf bounded over the snow, closing the distance in seconds, cutting off their prey. It felt good, so good, to let their muscles stretch and bunch, explode into action. The small animal—a rabbit—almost made it to cover but they were faster, and they pounced on their prey. Almost instantly, they had it under their teeth. Blood, hot and wet, rushed into their mouth as they crushed the creature’s throat in their jaws. It twitched, its little paws patting at their throat. It stopped after a few seconds and the lopsided fight was over. They raised their head, keeping their catch between their paws. The black wolf walked toward them slowly. Instinct said to crouch over their prey, guard it from the other wolf. A growl prickled in their chest, but his expression stopped them. He looked pleased, proud. As he should. Stopping about six feet away, he sat on his haunches and nodded at them. Then he lay down, watching them intently. Their stomach rumbled and they tore into their meal, gulping down warm mouthfuls of meat. It slid down their throat in rich bunches, filling them with satisfaction. When they finished, they looked up. The black wolf still watched them, a grin on his fierce face. He came over and licked their muzzle, cleaning the blood from their fur. Dazed, they blinked and he stepped back, bowing down. Without warning, he pronged at them before tearing off into the woods. More play. Izzy and her wolf raced into a small clearing and he cut off their path. He tackled them to the ground, rolling them

over and over in the snow. They landed on their back, paws in the air. He loomed over them, smiling and panting, his breath hot on their face. With a happy bark he licked their muzzle again and lay down next to them, curling his warm body around theirs. Alpha, they thought, relaxing. They and the Alpha stayed like that while the clouds passed overhead, the sun moving low in the sky. When the shadows lengthened, crawling across the snow like dark fingers, Alpha rose and shook the snow from his coat. They rose, too, and followed him home.

Chapter Thirty-Five Luke buttoned up his jeans as he watched Isabelle crouch naked in the snow following her shift back to human. The back of her hand was pressed to her mouth and her skin had a distinctly green tinge. “Are you going to throw up?” he asked, laying a blanket over his mate’s shoulders. “Maybe,” she said, her voice rough. She swallowed audibly. “God. The bunny.” He hoped she didn’t have any rabbit fur stuck in her teeth. “Think of it this way: it was your wolf. Not you.” Luke didn’t think of it that way, but he preferred not to freak her out even more. “Yeah, right,” she said, sarcasm heavy in her tone. She stood and shivered, cocooning herself in the blanket. “I know, I know. Time to butch up. I’m a werewolf. We eat Thumper for breakfast and Bambi for lunch.” Luke snorted and scooped her into his arms to save her feet the walk across the cold ground. She squeaked but didn’t offer any protest. “Just be careful if you take on Flower, though,” he said. “A snout full of skunk spray is not pleasant.” “Please tell me you know this from personal experience.” He set her down on his back porch. “You’re kind of mean, you know that?” “Oh my God, you did. You got Pepé Le Pewed.” Isabelle burst into laughter. The full-out, head-thrown-back, bellybusting kind. He loved it, even if he was the butt of the joke. She was freaking adorable. “That’s great. Wait ’til I tell Freddie.”

“You absolutely will not tell anyone that.” He pointed a finger at her. “Ever.” She laughed more. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Luke grabbed a handful of her blanket and tugged her into his body. He wrapped his free hand around her back and tickled her ribs. “Yes,” she giggled, breathless. Giggled. His Isabelle giggled. “Mean girl.” He rubbed his beard scruff against her neck. “You think getting sprayed by a skunk is funny?” She squirmed and shrieked. “Yes! When it’s you, Almighty Alpha, getting all stunk up.” “Brat.” She writhed and wriggled in his arms, pushing ineffectually against his chest, trying to escape his tickling. Her laughter and sweet cinnamon scent were driving him mad. He nuzzled her neck, under her ear. He wanted— “Ow! You bit me,” he said, touching his jaw where she’d nipped him. His wolf rumbled in pleasure. Luke pressed his sneaky mate against the back of his cabin. Bright whiskey eyes danced with amusement. “Yup. You better be careful—I have claws, too.” And she demonstrated by pinching him in the side. “You little—” He snatched her devious hands and pinned them against the wall. The move dragged the blanket away from Isabelle’s body, baring her breasts and more to him. He groaned. But it wasn’t his mate’s nudity that sent the blood pounding in his veins. It was the wide-eyed desire burning in her gaze. “Isabelle,” he breathed, and she kissed him. She. Kissed. Him. Raised up on her tiptoes, Isabelle pressed her mouth to his. Once, twice, and then she moaned into his mouth. Or maybe he was the one moaning. He couldn’t think. Not with

his mate’s tongue almost shyly licking his bottom lip. Releasing her wrists, he slid his hands over the cool, satin skin of her back, deepening the kiss. The blanket dropped to their feet. Isabelle gasped and arched into him, her breasts rubbing against his bare chest. God. God, he’d never wanted anyone more. And never would again. She was it, and he was lost to her rich vanilla-and-cinnamon scent, her soft skin, her demanding hands tangled in his hair, to her. Luke wrapped her even tighter in his arms, as if he could pull her right into his body. His forearms protected her back as he leaned into the wall behind her, using it to hold them up, because he wasn’t sure his legs were up to the task right now. Especially since only one was bearing his weight. The other he’d slid between his mate’s, right against her core. He felt her heat through his jeans, and shuddered. “Luke,” Isabelle said, drawing out his name in a moan. Inside. He had to get her inside and— She kissed the spot on his jaw she’d bit before, then dragged her teeth over it again, nipping lightly. Freezing winter air that didn’t have a hope of cooling his desire rushed past them as he hiked Isabelle up, wrapped her legs around his waist, and ploughed through the porch door. The impact of it slamming shut was still rattling the windows as he carried her through his cabin. Isabelle pressed a sucking kiss against the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder, and he growled. His gums throbbed as his fangs lengthened, preparing for their mating. They didn’t really need a bed. The couch or a chair would do. Maybe here on the floor— Isabelle hissed, and the pained sound froze him. “Sugar?” A quick scan and he realized his left hand was digging into her injured hip. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby.” Her feet barely touched the ground before he swung her up again to carry her over to the couch. Sitting with her in his lap, he covered

her with a thick blanket. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Dazed golden-brown eyes blinked up at him as he gently ran his hands over her. “What? I—I’m fine.” She shivered, but not with cold. Fingertips ghosted up Luke’s ribs, hesitant and soft. They stroked over his chest, grazed his nipples. In his head, his wolf sang. Luke caught Isabelle’s wandering hands and kissed them. No matter how much he and his wolf wanted to claim their mate, he had to be sure it was what Isabelle wanted, too. And he had a terrible suspicion that she didn’t fully understand what was happening between them. “Isabelle...” “It’s so strange,” she said, tugging a hand free to trace over his face, following the lines of his brow, cheek, and jaw. “Hmm?” That was about all he could manage as he tried not to stare at her breasts. They looked like they’d be a perfect handful and he really wanted to test his hypothesis. One finger drew a line down the bridge of his nose, outlined his lips. He wanted to suck it into his mouth, show her what he could do with his tongue. Everywhere. Dear goddess, the plans he had for claiming his mate. Would it be so awful if he just let nature take its course? Isabelle leaned into him, brushing her nose along his throat. “Mmm. I don’t even like men.” Say what? He was pretty sure the tires-screeching-to-ahalt sound was only in his head. He clasped her arms. “What?” “I mean, I don’t really like sex.” “What?” Maybe he was having a stroke, because he didn’t seem to be processing language very well. Of course, the problem could be his mate playing with the hair on his chest that trailed down into his jeans. He flattened her palm

onto his stomach, pinning it in place, and had to cup her cheek to get her to meet his eyes. “Isabelle, what are you talking about?” *** It smelled like Christmas in Luke’s living room, like pine trees and sugar cookies. And Izzy couldn’t get enough. Taking another deep breath, she nuzzled his neck. She wanted to drown in the clean smell of the forest coming from his skin. Or roll around in it, coat her own skin with it to keep his amazing scent with her. That last thought might not have been hers. “I think my wolf likes you,” she said. “What?” Izzy shook her head. The wolf buzzed along, but it sounded and felt different than all the times before when she’d thought her head would explode. The noise was softer and more substantial at the same time, like it had meaning. Closing her eyes, she let the purr wash through her and waited for the panic or fear to set in. Instead, she felt only peace. A contentment that shocked her. Her eyes popped open to find Luke watching her, his head tilted as if trying to read her with more than just human eyes. “I said, I think my wolf likes you.” She went to gesture at her head to explain, but her hand was plastered to his naked abs. “Um...” A slow grin spread across his face and he released her hand. “That’s good,” he said, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Because my wolf likes you, too.” “Oh.” He cupped her cheek, making sure she was looking into his eyes. “I like you.”

“Uh...we’re naked,” she said stupidly. “I’m only half-naked,” Luke said. “I can take off my jeans if you want to be on equal footing.” A flash of heat blasted through her. Yes, please. She said, “That’s not necessary.” Luke made a show of inhaling. The gleam in his eyes told her everything she needed to know about the information her scent provided him. “I don’t normally behave like this,” she said. “I don’t normally feel like this.” “Like what, sugar?” How much more embarrassed could she get? “Turned on.” Luke’s eyes bled to gold. “What did you mean before? That you don’t like men or sex.” Nope, she hadn’t been anywhere close to her embarrassment limit. Hell, she hadn’t even been in the same time zone as her limit. “Um,” she said, squirming. “I’ve never—the sex thing— it’s just that...” She blew out a breath. “I’ve always sort of found the whole thing, well, lacking.” “Lacking.” “Boring.” His dark brows rose as he deliberately gazed down at her breasts that betrayed her whole lack of boredom with the moment. “Boring.” “Stop repeating everything I say.” She popped him on the shoulder. “And stop smirking at me, you smug jerk.” “As long as I can keep looking at your breasts.” “Oh!” Luke’s laughter filled the room and despite herself, Izzy smiled. In her head, the wolf buzzed merrily along. “Sorry,” Luke said, wiping his eyes. He tucked the blanket more securely around her, covering her chest, and

gave her an understanding smile. “I’m not surprised you didn’t enjoy sex before. Frankly, I’m more surprised you let anyone get close enough to touch you, let alone...” He raised a brow at her. “Sex is all about letting go and you’re so afraid to lose control. Your previous lacking experiences were probably because of your stranglehold on your wolf.” “Hmm, you’re probably right.” “Ah, I do love that.” “Shut up,” she said, but she laughed as she said it. Again, the wolf filled her head. It felt good, but weirdly incomplete, like hearing a song, and not being able to make out the lyrics. Something occurred to her that made her gasp. “Luke, the wolf...it’s not trying to talk to me, is it?” “Probably.” “I’m not crazy?” “No. Our beasts, they’re a part of us, but at the same time, they’re their own beings. Just like we are when they manifest in the physical world. Our personalities, sense of self, don’t disappear when the wolves come out to play. Do you remember being a wolf?” She nodded because, ironically, speech was beyond her at the moment. She was too busy listening to Luke and her wolf hum and buzz at the same time. “Everyone’s a little different,” Luke continued. “But a lycanthrope usually hears—or maybe feels is a better word —their beast. Emotions are the easiest things to discern. But we get images, too. Sometimes words. Sometimes whole sentences.” “Right now, all I get is a whole lot of static. It’s like a hornets’ nest is in here,” she said, knocking on her head. For once, though, the noise didn’t sound angry to her. It sounded like the drone of a lively party. All the voices and words mixed together until you couldn’t understand anything, unless you paid attention. Focused.

Izzy grabbed his hand. “We can talk to them?” “Yes.” Holy shit. All her life, Izzy had been trying to ignore what she was, and the thing inside her. Never in a million years had she thought of the wolf as another being, someone she could communicate with. I’m so sorry, she told the wolf. A pulse of warmth and sound answered. “My God, I think we’re having a conversation,” Izzy told Luke. His smile could light up Wrigley Field. “That’s good.” Another idea sent her pulse skipping. “When we were wolves, running around out there, were you trying to talk to me?” “Yes. You seemed upset.” “How could you tell?” Luke shrugged. “Your wolf was anxious and mine sensed that. He tried to comfort her and I tried to do the same for you. Could you understand me?” Reeling, she shook her head slowly. “I was scared. I don’t like not being in control, as you’ve noticed. I’m not sure I could’ve understood you even if we’d both been human at that moment.” He rubbed circles against her back. “I’m sorry, Isabelle. I never wanted to frighten you.” “It’s all right. I’m just so—wow. We’re telepathic?” “Sort of. With our wolves and among the pack in animal form. Yes.” “But I’m not part of the pack.” Rays of liquid gold shone in Luke’s green eyes. “Aren’t you?” Her breath whooshed out, like she’d taken a roundhouse to the gut. Caressing her cheek, he said, “We’re connected, you and

I, and the pack.” A bright, warm, shivery sensation spread from her chest, down to her toes and the tips of her fingers, all the way to the ends of her hair. She felt...electrified. “Because of Freddie?” she whispered. “No.” A simple answer, yet she knew Luke was trying to convey something much more. The reason for so much, why she could hear him as a wolf, why she felt so safe around him, why she felt so alive around him. The reason for everything. She didn’t ask because she already knew the answer. Had known it since the moment she stepped out of Freddie’s helicopter. “We’re mates,” she said. “Yes.” “Oh, shit.” The flash of hurt on his face had her fumbling for an explanation. “Don’t. It’s not—dammit. It’s just I never expected to deal with anything like this. Ever.” The muscles in his jaw bunched. It seemed to take a lot of effort to unclench them and open his mouth. When he did, he voice was low and rasping and stiff. “If it isn’t something you can handle—” “I didn’t say I couldn’t handle it. I—” “Give us a chance, Isabelle—” “A chance! We don’t even—” She held up a hand. The wolf buzzed in her head, sounding nearly as panicked as Izzy. “Wait. Just—just give me a minute. Okay?” It took a few seconds, but finally, he nodded. She stood, dragging the blanket with her. There was no way she could think sitting on his lap like that. Naked, for chrissakes. She paced in front of him. Why were they even arguing about this? This was absolutely crazy. They couldn’t be mates. They—no, dammit. Think. Don’t just freak out because

you think you should. She took a long breath, let it out slow. Another. Again. When her heart stopped flapping around in her chest and her wolf stopped trying to wear a hole in her brain, Izzy looked to Luke. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice so small even she barely heard it. He held out his hand, palm up. There wasn’t any thought to her reaction at all. She just reached out and took it, sliding her cold, shaking hand into his strong, warm, steady grasp. Again, without thinking about it or exerting any effort at all, she sank down onto the couch next to him, her thigh pressed up against his. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sure.” “Oh.” The expression on his face kicked her right in the chest. Fear, hope, vulnerability, and...love? It was all right there for her to see. Totally open. Exposed. All that emotion, just for her. “Oh,” she said again. Carefully, she laid her head on his chest, right over his heart. It pounded like a jackhammer beneath her ear, but slowed as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. All the nervous energy and anxiety seeped from her body. It wasn’t acceptance or even surrender to the inevitable. For a few minutes, she just wanted to sit and...be. With Luke. Right then, she couldn’t find anything wrong with that.

Chapter Thirty-Six As the late afternoon sun dipped below the rooflines of the overpriced condos in Missoula, Kent Markes and Gordon LeBlanc slipped from one shadow to the next. They didn’t need to wait for the cover of full dark. Most of the humans who lived here were still at work, toiling away like good little sheep. Besides, in Markes’s experience, the sheep never really looked beyond their own pens. The better to delude themselves about their safety. He sniffed the air and ducked beneath the arms of a hemlock. The woods at the rear of the property gave the pampered humans who lived there the illusion of privacy and seclusion. It also gave the two predators perfect access to their yards. They would have come in their animal forms, but neither a cougar nor grizzly bear’s paws were useful for picking locks. “They’re still upstairs,” LeBlanc said in a whisper, nodding to the window above the back door. “I can hear the tub draining. We gonna kill the kid?” Markes pocketed his lock pick and eyed his partner. “What do you care? She’s too young to be any fun.” LeBlanc shrugged. “Remember,” Markes said. “We’ve got to be quick. This Erlington bitch is a screamer. Dealing with the cops isn’t an option.” “I know.” Markes listened for another few seconds before opening the door. Silently, they eased into the kitchen. It smelled like a hot stove and cheese. Two dinner dishes lay on the

counter. An empty box of organic mac and cheese sat on the island near a bag of those pinky-sized carrots and a pickedover branch of green grapes. He looked at LeBlanc and rolled his eyes. Freakin’ humans. If he opened the pantry, he probably wouldn’t find anything that tasted remotely good. Ms. Jenny won’t be taking advantage of all that clean livin’ anymore. Past the kitchen was a pale and fussy living room that looked like a lilac bush had puked all over it. Between the two rooms, a set of stairs went up two steps to a small landing bordered by a white wood railing, before taking a right up to the second floor. A feminine voice drifted down. “Get your jammies on, Brooklynn. Then we’ll read some more Amelia Bedelia before bed.” “Okay, Mommy!” Markes nodded to LeBlanc, and the bear shifter hid on the other side of the landing when footsteps sounded on the stairs. Markes moved down the hall, out of the woman’s line of sight. He almost laughed at her expression as LeBlanc grabbed her from behind, clamping a huge hand over her mouth and nose. LeBlanc pulled her over the landing rail with ease, the woman’s eyes darting back and forth like a fly in a window, her escape just as hopeless. Too easy. It was almost disappointing. “Hello, Ms. Erlington. My name is Kent Markes. Maybe you remember me.” The cougar flowed into his eyes, throwing a golden glow over the pale-as-snow human. Markes grabbed her throat to silence her captured screams. “Now, now. None of that. Can’t have little Brooklynn join the party before we’re ready.” “Nothin’ personal,” LeBlanc whispered in her ear. “Can’t

have you telling tales ’bout your boss’s business with our employers.” Overhead, the sound of little feet dancing was accompanied by a high-pitched voice singing a disgustingly sweet pop song. The woman’s eyes bugged as she heard her daughter for the last time.

Chapter Thirty-Seven “Can you drive a little faster?” Luke asked Dean through clenched teeth. During dinner at Rissa’s, Dean had called to say one of the trackers had picked up the grizzly’s scent. Leaving Isabelle had been almost impossible. Luke’s wolf had pitched a temper tantrum worthy of a sleep-deprived threeyear-old hyped up on Halloween candy. His head still hurt from all the howling. “Stupid false alarm,” Luke muttered. The tracker was young and inexperienced. Still, you’d think he’d recognize the scent of a male who’d lived in the territory his entire life, recluse or not. “Your wolf giving you fits?” Dean asked, signaling a turn onto another empty road. “That obvious?” “Naw, you always snarl at dumb kids who’re trying to impress you.” “Shit.” Great job, Alpha. Dean snorted. “It’s all right. I’ve been driving Sarah crazy calling every hour, checking on her and the boys.” Annoying Sarah was bound to be a dangerous pastime. The female had access to scalpels, after all. “Bet she loves that.” Dean actually smirked. “She said, and I quote, ‘Worry about yourself, you big dummy, because if you get hurt, I’m going to tranq your wolf, shave his butt, and post the pictures on the bulletin board in Haven.’” Awe lit his face. “She’d do it, too. God, I love that female.” Luke laughed, because Sarah would totally do that. With

a song in her evil little heart. His cell rang, and Liz Crandall reported that none of the other search teams had any luck finding a fresh trail from the rogues. He sent her home, then jammed his phone in his pocket. Dean drove around a pothole that could swallow a car. “I don’t understand how these guys are evading us. Someone must be helping them. Hiding them out, or at the least, not patrolling their freaking area properly.” “Let’s switch up the teams and their sections tomorrow morning. Tell ’em we want fresh noses and all that.” “’Kay.” “And tell them to be careful. Do not separate from their partners for any reason. I meant it when I said no one is to be alone. Not to track, travel, hunt, or even stay at home. That goes for you, too, Dean.” Luke wouldn’t allow the pack to be easy targets. “I know,” Dean said. “Got to keep Sarah happy, remember?” They turned onto the gravel drive leading to Rissa and Freddie’s, and Luke practically vibrated with the need to be there, right the hell now. When it came to Isabelle, the rational part of his psyche had left the building. Before they came to a complete stop, Luke jumped out and ran up the back steps. Rissa opened the door. Behind her, packmates were putting on their coats. “Shh,” she said to him. “Freddie and his parents are in bed. And I finally convinced Izzy to head that way an hour ago.” At his crestfallen expression, she added, “Though it’s possible she’s still up if you want to have a look.” Isabelle’s scent lingered in the air and beckoned him down the hall to her room. He’d taken three steps toward it before his mind caught up to his body and his wolf. “No,” he said. With a monumental force of will, he turned away

from that tantalizing trail and walked back to Rissa. “She should sleep. She’s still healing.” He acknowledged his mother and other packmates. Knowing they’d been there to back up Rissa and help protect Isabelle and her family had eased some of the energy jangling in his veins. And he told them so. “That’s what we’re here for, sweetheart,” Mom said. She gave him a tight hug before leaving. Marianne brushed past Luke. “Hmmph.” Hand in hand with her mate, Rick, Daphne rolled her eyes, then kissed Rissa’s cheek. “Get some sleep. ’Night, Ris.” “Alpha,” Rick said as he passed. They’d never liked each other, but there was no need to be a rude dick just because he was a grumpy, horny mess. “’Night,” Luke called after him. “Wait a minute, Dean!” Rissa called before he could step off her porch. “I need to talk to you and Luke.” Dev Crandall clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Take your time. We’ll be in the truck.” “Thanks.” “You staying at Haven tonight?” Luke asked Dean. “Yeah. Sarah and the boys are in our rooms there. Per your orders, Dev’s my buddy tonight. What’s up, Ris?” Dean asked. Closing the door, she said, “My friend at the IRS called. He owed me big, otherwise I don’t think I’d have gotten this information. He had to dig through more layers than a drug kingpin uses to hide his offshore accounts. But I think we’ve found Branson’s money men. A company called Apex.” ***

Izzy watched the last of the headlights disappear down the driveway. Finally. Admittedly, most of the pack she’d met so far were nice —well, except for Marianne, and Rick was plain weird— but she could only take so much of their curious stares and discreet sniffing. The odor-as-emotional-barometer thing was starting to wear on her. Thank God they’d all left. Well, almost all. Luke’s presence in the house rang in her head like a gong. Soft footsteps passed her door—Rissa going to bed. Izzy shook her head. She’d spent the evening with Freddie’s mate and couldn’t believe how much she actually liked the other woman. Rissa was smart, funny, tough, and so obviously gaga over Freddie it was hard to keep up a good hate simply because Rissa was a werewolf. Izzy’s head buzzed. Impossible to ignore, really. I hear you, she told her wolf. I know he’s out there. Down the hall, Rissa’s bedroom door closed. The droning grew so loud, it was like sticking her head into the engine of a C-130. Okay, okay. I’m going already. Her hand was on the doorknob and she was down the hall, into the living room before she knew it. Damn. She’d moved so fast, she might as well have teleported. Luke sat on the big family-room couch, his feet on a leather ottoman, a fire burning in the fireplace. One long arm rested on the back of the couch as if pointing at her. His fingers curled, beckoning her closer. “Sugar,” he said, his voice low and sweet, filled with obvious pleasure. Wonder hushed the racket in her brain. She made him sound like that? She walked around the couch. Taking his outstretched hand felt like the most natural thing in the world. So she

did, and let him pull her down beside him. Their bodies pressed side to side. “It’s two o’clock in the morning, Luke.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Been a long day. Did I wake you?” “No. Are you okay?” He didn’t look okay. Dark shadows marred the skin beneath his eyes and deep grooves creased the skin between his brows. With her thumb, she tried to smooth them away. “Headache?” His eyes drifted closed and his head fell back against the couch. “Gettin’ better now that you’re here.” He played with the ends of her hair. “Couldn’t sleep?” “No. I was worried about you.” The words burst from her and she realized they were true. She was in so deep. Dark green eyes fixed on her face. The look in them...it made her heart pound and a profound sense of peace settle over her all at once. “Isabelle.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I worried you.” Another soft kiss. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Caring.” That one word held so much. Snuggling into his chest, she breathed in his pine and sunbaked-stone scent. His arm curled around her, and he stroked her hair. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, the rhythm a song she could listen to forever. “This is crazy,” she said. He didn’t misunderstand her. “It is. It’s the mating dance.” “Don’t you mind? Magic pushing me at you?” “No.” He cupped her cheek. “It’s perfect.” A hundred—no, a thousand—questions popped up in her mind. So many problems faced them. So many obstacles stood in their way. Danger loomed like a gathering storm. But she didn’t give voice to any of her fears. Because he

was right. It was perfect. And for once, she allowed herself to bask in the perfection of belonging.

Chapter Thirty-Eight The sun hadn’t even risen, and already Caine was deeply annoyed. Not that he could see the sky right now, since he’d made the homeowner close all the drapes in his office before Caine would even enter it. Why did these local shifters never understand security? Or discipline and patience, for that matter? If they did, he wouldn’t be forced to come and clean up their messes. Really, what was about to happen was their own fault. “What do you mean, ‘Mr. Holt couldn’t make it?’” the homeowner asked, sitting behind a polished mahogany desk, like it was his own little island of power. He reminded Caine of a professor in a movie, with a scarf draped around his neck and a sport coat that had actual elbow patches. The professor flashed an exasperated look at one of his cronies, as if he couldn’t believe someone hadn’t jumped when he’d wanted. If Caine were a typical dominant wolf, that entitled attitude would have grated. Instead, he found it pathetic and small, like the male delivering it. He didn’t even deserve the minuscule courtesy of Caine using his name. None of them did. Not even in his own mind. “I already told you, my employer had other business to attend to.” As if Holt would waste his time visiting this backwater. This territory’s remote locale was the only reason Holt and Apex were interested in it. It certainly wasn’t for the culture or stimulating company. “That’s unfortunate,” the professor said, after a sip of coffee. “I always prefer dealing directly with the person I’m doing business with. But I’m sure you and your soldiers are

up to the task.” Caine grinned at the absurd statement and the other werewolves in the room stiffened. Pulling a cell phone from his pocket, he called up some information and set the device down on the desk. “An example of our work.” He turned away to prowl the room, picking up knickknacks here, touching an antique there. The trinkets of people’s lives baffled him. Why on earth would they fill their dens with such flotsam? A truncated gasp, followed by several other sounds of distress drew another smile. He knew what they were looking at. He had taken the photographs, after all. The first was a picture of a man. His throat was a hollowed mess, showing the spine. His head was twisted too far to the right to be natural, and the visible side of his face was grotesquely swollen and bruised. Intestines spilled out of his abdomen to drape onto the blood-soaked floor. “There’s more,” Caine said, waving his hand absently at the phone. They really should enjoy the full show. The next picture was a group shot of a woman and young man in the same room as the previous guy. Both were bloody and obviously dead. The woman’s clothes were not just torn, but ripped away to reveal her body. It had been a nice body, too. From the obscene way she was positioned, they would surely understand she’d been raped prior to death. Another swipe would show a close-up of the woman’s beaten face and bloody blond hair. Next, the young man. His mouth gaped open, exposing jagged, broken teeth. There were several more pictures in the gallery, cataloging the gruesome accomplishments of Caine and his men. He was quite proud of his collection. Much better than some old clock or gaudy lamp. The scent of fear drenched the room with its smokysweet perfume. Caine looked around at the assembled

shifters. Couldn’t they control their emotions even a little, instead of giving it up like a human? The professor alone had the balls to look him in the eye. The male picked up his coffee mug and sipped. Interesting. Did he really think what he had was so important he was safe? Please. The moment the professor or this territory became more trouble than they were worth, Caine would burn it all down. “You’re very thorough,” the professor said. Caine inclined his head and strolled over to the display of several framed photographs lined up on a cabinet. He picked up a group shot that included the former Beta and Alpha, Darren Ellis and Greg Wyland. “You were at the top of the male hierarchy,” he said to the professor. “Holt was under the impression that the Alpha’s son was not active in the pack.” “He wasn’t,” the male said, with no small amount of bitterness. “Luke’s activities kept him out of town for the most part.” “And yet...” Caine spread his scarred hands. “It’s been over a year since your Alpha and Beta were killed. Why are you not in control yet?” One of the lesser wolves stammered, “We couldn’t—” The professor cut him off with a look. “It’s complicated. I wasn’t in a position to fight Luke Wyland for Alpha. As I told Holt, I was injured. Asking to postpone the challenge would have given me away.” Caine regarded the male. “Interesting.” The professor bristled, but before he could speak and waste any more of the day, Caine said, “Your Luna is a problem. I know you hoped to spare Clarissa Townes, but she’s stuck her nose where it doesn’t belong. We’ll have to deal with her.” One of the cronies sighed, but the professor said,

“Agreed.” “What about the sheriff? Has he come around?” “Ellis won’t be a problem,” Crony One said, finally having recovered himself. “Like Alan Branson wasn’t a problem?” Caine asked, his voice a quiet growl. “That was very messy, sabotaging a helicopter. Messy and attention-grabbing.” The crony puffed up. “We thought it was the best option for deflecting blame if someone discovered our business relationship. No one would believe we’d destroy our own helicopter.” “You thought?” The idiot nodded. Caine bared his fangs. “Who told you to think? You were supposed to quietly get rid of Branson. Now the human government is involved. Then, to make matters worse, you gave Wyland and the sheriff all the evidence they need to tie the county clerk’s death to Branson’s.” When they all stared at him like the idiots they were, he added, “The citronella. It was used at the clerk’s disposal site and the mechanic’s.” He loomed over Crony One, who recoiled. “Don’t. Think. Again.” Caine stepped back, cracked a kink in his neck, and looked at the professor. “And what of the Alpha and his Beta?” The professor blinked. “Would tomorrow be too soon?” “No. The question is, can we hit all the targets in one location, or will the healer and her pups still be staying in your den?” A tense silence stretched in the room. “Pups?” Crony One asked. “You’re going to kill Sarah and Dean’s sons? They’re just babies.” “Is that really necessary?” the professor asked. Caine sighed. “There is no room for sentiment. Children

who are given a pass simply because of their age eventually grow up and become nuisances. Look at your Alpha’s mate as a prime example. If the soldiers who staged the coup on the Chicago pack leadership had the balls to take her and her twin out when they were supposed to, Miss Meyers wouldn’t have been here to so skillfully land the helicopter you went to all that trouble of sabotaging. Nor would she have been able to kill one of the men you hired. See? Why go through the hassle of letting them grow up?” The professor nodded slowly. “The sooner we eliminate Luke and the others, the better.” “Wyland and his supporters won’t be a problem for you after tomorrow,” Caine said. “Now, I’d like to clarify something.” In a flash of movement, he grabbed the least of the wolves in the room, a paunchy male with an unfortunate appreciation for onions, and snapped his neck. Before any of the others could move, he extended the twist to completely sever the spinal cord. Werewolves were hearty creatures. But not even one of the goddess’s own could come back from having their head attached to their torsos by nothing more than a bit of skin. Caine allowed the wolf to enter his eyes and voice. “You do not work with Holt. You serve him. It’s in your best interests to remember who your master is.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine Luke heard the sounds of a door opening and hushed voices coming from down the bedroom hallway. Despite the low volume, he could hear the speakers as clearly as if they were standing in front of him. “He’s out there with her,” Hank Dodd said. “Shh, you’ll wake them up,” Abby said. “Good. What does he think he’s doing with our daughter?” “Do I really have to explain it to you?” Abby asked. “Pfft. He likes her. And more importantly, she likes him. You leave them alone.” Hank huffed as the door closed again and their voices faded behind it. Smiling, Luke kissed the top of Isabelle’s head, careful not to jostle her. Sometime during the night, they’d snuggled down into the cushions of the oversized couch. Isabelle was tucked between them and Luke’s body, her head resting on his chest. He couldn’t remember ever waking up feeling this content. Given everything going on, it was an absolute miracle. “Well, that was embarrassing,” Isabelle said. She lifted her head and took in the way she was half-draped on top of him. Crimson flooded her cheeks. When she started to pry herself out of his embrace, he let her go. She’d spent the night in his arms. He could be magnanimous. He swung his legs around to the front of the couch and sat up. “Your mom says you like me.” Whiskey eyes narrowed on him. “I don’t think Hank likes you.”

“He’ll come ’round. I’m charming.” His mate’s laugh lit him like the sun streaming through the glass walls. “Jackass,” she said. But he knew she didn’t mean it. She liked him. Then he heard Dean’s truck approaching—fast. Isabelle heard it, too. Her brows pinched together and she stood. Luke was at the door before the F-150 slid to a stop on the snowy gravel. Rissa ran up behind him. Fear and anxiety followed her like a cloud of smoke. “What’s wrong?” “The sheriff in Missoula called,” Dean said, jogging up the steps. “Jenny Erlington’s been murdered.”

Chapter Forty Bright afternoon sunlight slanted through the branches of the subalpine firs clustered along the edge of the escarpment. The trees’ elongated crowns cast fingerlike shadows over the pristine snow, as if they were laying claim to the remote mountain slope. Maybe they were, because Vaughn had the distinct, and weird, sensation of being unwelcome. “I’m still confused about why you wanted to search here,” Vaughn said to Rick. They often tracked together, since Rick was one of the few males who could keep up with him, and his nose was almost as good as Vaughn’s. “Didn’t you already inspect this section by air?” “Uh-huh, but since no one’s been having any luck tracking the rogues, Liz and I thought we should re-examine some of the outer areas of the territory.” Outer? Far-flung was probably a better word for this section of the pack’s territory. It had taken them more than two hours to get there by car. Roads never ran in a straight or convenient line in the mountains. “Besides,” Rick continued, “with Freddie’s Bell being out of commission, we’re down to Dev and his Huey. He can only see so much from the cockpit and your mother can’t fly over everything.” No, but she’d sure as hell try. Golden eagles could fly for a long time and Mom would do just about anything for his father’s pack. Even fly herself into a dangerous exhaustion. A steady wind blew from the southwest, over the edge of the escarpment’s cliff face to the slope they were hiking. Vaughn didn’t like it at all. They were hunting other

lycanthropes. If anyone with a preternatural sense of smell was up on this isolated ridge, they’d detect him and Rick first. Like Vaughn, Rick had serious skills, but they weren’t immortal. And there was something...something the land was trying to tell them. They were heading uphill, the cliff several yards to their left, hidden behind the dense tree line. To their right was a shoulder where the mountain curved and sloped away. Vaughn peered into the woods around them, his wolf peeking out through his human eyes. Details sharpened and the shadows brightened. Dozens of tracks crisscrossed the slope, small prey and large. Nothing out of the ordinary. Still, his instincts screamed. That other part of him, the part he tried not to acknowledge, pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. Daggerlike talons dug in as the eagle demanded its turn and insisted they were missing something. The raptor’s sight was exponentially better than the wolf’s, but still, it couldn’t penetrate solid objects. “We should shift. The wind is working against us here,” Vaughn said. In their fur, they’d be able to smell more and travel easier. They’d be giving up their guns, but he’d always preferred his claws and fangs over manmade weapons anyway. “Just a minute,” Rick said, walking past him a few feet. But something was off in Rick’s voice, and Vaughn’s skin crawled as his beasts sought the source of danger once again. His hand eased to the holster on his hip. He didn’t try to hide it when he unsnapped the safety strap. “Why? What’s going to happen in a minute?” Rick’s slow, wide smile was the kind of thing you imagined Hannibal Lecter wearing when he showed up to Sunday dinner. “Well, that’s up to you.”

A branch snapped to the right, behind Vaughn. He pivoted to keep Rick in his peripheral vision as he took in the newcomer—no, two newcomers. One was huge, over six and a half feet tall, with shoulders the size of a Buick. His shoulder-length brown hair and grizzled beard rippled in the wind—the same damn wind that had helped conceal his scent. The other male was smaller, maybe five-eight, fivenine. His eyes glowed. “The other cougar,” Vaughn said. “Not as stupid as we thought you were,” the cat said. Debatable. Vaughn felt pretty stupid. Completely moronic, actually. “Even though you’re a freak, it doesn’t have to end bloody for you, Vaughn,” Rick said. “You have no loyalty to Luke. You could find a place with us.” A snarl, nasty and echoing, burst from Vaughn’s throat. “You think I’d betray my Alpha? My pack?” Rick shrugged. “Thought I’d give you a chance. I don’t hate you as much as the others.” “Stop fucking insulting me, asswipe.” “So confident. Your deputy was pretty full of himself, too,” Rick drawled, a feral gleam in his eyes. Icy fear skittered up Vaughn’s spine. “What?” The cat laughed. “He’s not too far from here, as the crow flies. Or should I say eagle?” “I think you mean his corpse isn’t far from here,” the Buick said. Oh, goddess. Who? Run! Vaughn’s wolf howled. Where? They had him hemmed in with the cliff at his back. Fly! his eagle screamed. Not likely, unless some miracle happened in the next three seconds that finally gave him wings. Can’t run like a wolf. Never could fly like an eagle. Might as well fight like a human. Vaughn pointed his gun at the big guy’s chest. “How we

playing this? You may outnumber me, but at least one of you is eating silver.” A safety disengaging on Rick’s gun cracked like lightning. “I don’t know. I like my odds of blowing your head off before that happens.” Vaughn was moving and shooting before Rick finished his sentence. So were the other two shifters. The big guy was quicker than Vaughn had given him credit for, and Vaughn’s shot just creased the bastard’s chest. The cougar exploded into a shift that sent his clothes flying like confetti from a cannon. A lash of fire whipped Vaughn across the cheek as Rick’s shot grazed him. Already falling back into a roll, Vaughn snapped off a shot at the cougar, popped up, and ran for the line of firs. His only hope was to find a way to either outflank the assholes or outrun them. So he ran. Faster than he’d ever run before, because if he didn’t survive this, Rick’s next stop would probably be Rissa’s. She’d never see the betrayal coming from her own brother-in-law. Branches cracked behind him and a bullet whizzed by his ear. The cougar screamed to his left, and Vaughn ran harder. Could he shift fast enough to outrun them? Maybe— Pain blasted through him as blood arced from his left side. He stumbled, and another bullet hit him in the side of the neck. As he burst through the trees and fell off the edge of the cliff, he wished he’d learned to fly.

Chapter Forty-One Watching Isabelle had become something of an obsession for Luke. Most of the pack was here at his mother’s, yet he only had eyes for his mate. She was about thirty feet away— too far for his liking—lounging on one of the sturdy rocking chairs that lined the pack house’s wraparound porch. Every time she sipped from the huge mug in her hands, she stopped and sniffed the contents, letting out a little sigh of satisfaction. Hot chocolate, probably. His mate definitely liked her chocolate. Everything she did fascinated him. From the way she tucked the flyaway strands of dark hair behind her ears, to how she ducked her head when someone said something nice to her. Hell, he even enjoyed the way she narrowed her eyes at him when she was about to tell him off. He had it bad. Given everything that had happened, Isabelle’s ability to captivate him was an excellent thing. Because when he thought about Jenny Erlington’s little girl wandering around in the freezing dark in nothing but her pajamas until neighbors found her, blinding fury whited out his vision and his wolf shook with the need to destroy. “When did Vaughn call to tell you not to go to Missoula?” Luke refocused on Tanya and Daphne. If they’d been there to guard Jenny Erlington...hell. Maybe they’d be dead, too. In the shadow of a huge spruce, the two females cowered, their eyes downcast. Damn it. This was on Luke, not them. He never should have trusted Vaughn. “Come here,” he said, hugging them to his sides. Fear and

anger overrode their natural scents. “It’s not your fault. Vaughn’s the sheriff. Of course you listened to him.” “He called right before we were supposed to leave,” Daphne said in a nervous voice, while Tanya nodded. “He said the security detail wasn’t necessary anymore.” That sonofabitch. “Did he give a reason?” “No. He’s not the most talkative guy,” Tanya grumbled. Daphne’s big brown eyes were filled with tears when she chanced a peek at him. “I’m so sorry. We would’ve gone if —” “Stop,” he said, his voice still too harsh. Gentling his tone, he said again, “It’s not your fault.” It’s mine. As the females walked off—probably to find company that wasn’t a growling asshole—Luke poked at the fire burning in the small chiminea. Still, he kept his eyes on Isabelle. Every time he looked away, his wolf started to rage. Between the danger and the mating dance, they were a mess. Possessive, dominant, and— “You’re eyeballing my girl, son.” Luke tore his gaze away from the porch. Hank Dodd ambled closer, scowling at him as if he’d just peed on the landscaping. “Yes, sir.” “Hmmph. Well, you’re honest. I’ll give you that much.” “Try to be.” At least about the stuff he could be. “Do you love her?” Like a bee to honeysuckle, Luke’s gaze flew back to Isabelle. She laughed at something Freddie said, and a feeling of complete devotion rose in Luke, washing away everything else. “Yes, sir.” Hank nodded. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s pretty special.” “You’re taking all of this suspiciously well. Is this the part where you warn me off? Because, no disrespect, but

that’s not going to happen.” Hank rolled his eyes. “I fell in love with her mother the moment I laid eyes on her. It was like falling out the side door of a helo, a hundred feet up, without a safety harness. Just as sudden, stomach-lurching, and irrevocable.” “Sounds violent.” “Coulda been, but then Abby caught me.” “Isabelle decked me the first day we met. An uppercut, right to the jaw.” Hank’s bark of laughter turned heads all across the yard. “That’s my girl. Think she’s gonna catch you?” “God, I hope so.” *** “Are you happy?” Freddie blinked at Izzy’s sudden question and pulled his attention from the rapidly multiplying herd of children they’d been watching race around Lena Wyland’s torch-lit yard. The kids argued, threw snowballs, wrestled, and generally tried to maim one another. Izzy recognized some of them from the day she arrived in Montana. How was that only a few days ago? She scrutinized her brother’s face. “I mean, like really happy?” As if on autopilot, he homed in on Rissa, who was sitting on the edge of a picnic table in the yard below them. Of course, he’d been doing that for the last twenty minutes, since his fiancée had left him on the wraparound porch. Once again, Rissa looked up like she could feel his attention. Damn, the heat of their shared look could’ve melted the snow. Freddie leaned back in his rocking chair, his broken leg propped up on a low stool. A goofy smile lit his face. “Oh

yeah.” Izzy wanted to fake a gag, or mock their sappiness, but that’d make her a hypocrite. Because Luke was sitting on that table now, too, and they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other either. “This is nuts,” Izzy whispered. “Little bit.” Freddie reached out, and without touching her, traced an invisible line between her brows. “What specifically put that look of consternation on your face? Has Luke been pressuring you? Because if he has, I’m gonna—” “For what?” As Freddie shifted guiltily, a giant, arrow-shaped sign flashed in her head. It was pointed right at her and marked with one word: Idiot. Flash. Idiot. Flash. “Oh. My. God,” she said in a hiss. “You know. Don’t you? That’s why you’ve been so pissy with Luke. You know we’re mates.” That whole cockamamie idea was insane. Bonkers. Bats in the belfry, Looney Tunes, cuckoo-for-Cocoa-Puffs crazy. The flashing idiot sign grew red-and-white chase lights. “It wasn’t really a secret, Iz. Not with the way the big ass got all growly any time someone came near you. Hell, Luke practically whizzed a circle around you to mark his territory.” An ah-ooh-ga! sound joined the light party. “Well, it was a secret to me, dumbass. And the only reason you’re not a smear in the snow for talking about me like I’m a fire hydrant is because Abby’ll get mad if I mess up your ugly face any more than it already is. You know how she likes pictures for the mantel.” Across the yard, Luke stood and stared at her, frowning. Instinctively, she knew if she gave him the slightest indication she was in trouble, he’d tear through the deck

railings to get to her. Woe to anyone who got in his way. It made her feel...strange. Sort of like her rocking chair had grown roots and could withstand an earthquake without getting knocked over. Izzy shook her head at Luke and he slowly sat back down. Freddie watched the whole show and huffed. “I really want to hate that guy, but he’s so freaking concerned about you all the time, I just can’t. And that’s so annoying, ’cause he’s an arrogant dipshit. But you deserve someone who’ll do anything for you. Even if it’s him.” Hiding her face in her cocoa mug, because she had no idea what to do with all that, she said, “Doesn’t it bother you that you had no choice in this whole mate thing?” “What do you mean?” “It’s like some biological imperative. Hormones or something. Like going into heat. I didn’t even know his name before I—” She broke off, blushing. “Before you wanted to do the nasty?” Eyes bugging out of her head, she backhanded his arm. “Fred!” “Ow! Damn it. Christ, you’re such a prude. To answer your question, you violent cur, no, it doesn’t bother me. How could it, when meeting Rissa meant finding everything I didn’t know I was looking for?” “Jeez, Fred, you’re downright poetic.” “Oh, shut up. Seriously. Finding Rissa was like the universe handed me the one person on the whole planet that was perfect for me. Just me. What could be wrong with that? It’s not like I got brainwashed. I’m still me, except now, I’m complete.” Another snarky comment leapt to mind, and he knew it, because his eyes narrowed. But Izzy didn’t say it. She saw how much her brother and his fiancée loved one another. “So, it’s all just a foregone conclusion then?” she asked.

“Luke’s stuck with me?” “Hey, knock that shit off. That bossy bastard is lucky to have found you and he knows it. But you still have a choice, Iz. You haven’t mated yet. You can walk away.” At her expression of disbelief, he added, “He promised.” “Promised?” Freddie and Luke’s terse conversation outside of the sheriff’s station yesterday suddenly had some context. “You made him promise what, exactly?” Freddie turned to look at Luke. They silently scowled at one another for several seconds. “That he wouldn’t try to seduce you into the mating bond. That he’d let you decide for yourself whether or not you want to stay.” “I didn’t think that was possible,” she said, her voice a whisper. Her grandmother’s warped tales whipped around her head and she distinctly heard a growl. Her wolf throwing a flag on those memories? “Well, it won’t be easy.” Freddie stared at his own mate as she walked toward them. “I don’t even wanna imagine having to leave Rissa.” A few of the boys playing below them in the yard broke away and pelted Freddie with snowballs. He scraped off the saucer-shaped sled he’d wielded like a shield since they got here, and shook a fist at the hooligans. “I have a broken leg, you little demons!” Boom, boom, poof! Three more frosty bombs nailed his barrier. Izzy wiped some splattered snowball off her cheek. “I don’t think they like you, Fred.” “Oh, no,” Rissa said, coming up the porch steps with her sister. She gazed at the writhing swarm of mittened evil with undaunted affection. “They love him.” Freddie gaped at his fiancée as if she’d sprouted wings from her forehead. On the steps, wisely out of collateral-damage range,

Daphne said, “All together like this, they are a little much to take.” When Freddie pulled a clump of snow from his collar, she laughed. “I think Dean and Sarah’s boys might be the worst of the lot.” “Which ones are they?” Izzy asked, as Abby came out the back door of the enormous stone-and-wood house carrying a thermos. Pointing at several kids hiding behind an overturned picnic table, Daphne said, “The one piling snowballs in a pyramid is Nate. He’s six. And Justin is almost five. He’s the one in blue, directing everyone like a little Napoleon.” Definitely the ringleaders. Bossy little Alpha and Beta in the making. Izzy wondered if this was how Luke and Dean had been as kids: terrorizing the county with mischievous green eyes and wicked aim. Abby poured steaming hot chocolate into Izzy’s mug. “They’re adorable,” she said, earning a disgruntled look from Freddie. “Come on, Fred,” Izzy said. She pointed to a toddler who couldn’t be more than two years old. “That little glittery pink one is pretty cute. Look at her do the Frankenbaby walk.” As soon as she said that, the girl fell face-first into a snowdrift. Every adult pack member in the vicinity stopped what they were doing and started to move, but Luke was at the baby’s side in an instant. Scooping her up in his arms, he brushed off the crying child and kissed her red cheeks. One of the men Izzy met at Freddie’s her first day here and the helicopter pilot she’d met yesterday materialized next to them. They both fussed over the little girl and stroked her face. A boy, about twelve years old, jogged past, with Sarah and Dean’s younger son riding his back. Another piggybacked pair were hot on their heels as Luke’s mother

and another woman cheered the racers on. Weres. Every last one of them. Laughing, happy voices echoed around the yard, including her family’s. Izzy couldn’t lie to herself. She was happy, too. How the hell had that happened? A warm sensation like sinking down into a hot bath enveloped her. She didn’t have to look to know that even while snuggling the little girl, Luke had focused his attention on her again. “Children are such a blessing,” Abby said, cocking an eyebrow at Izzy and Freddie. “You know...grandchildren would be wonderful, too.” Freddie choked on his coffee. “Jeez, woman. Can I get out of the cast first?” Abby sniffed. “I don’t see why a cast should present a problem.” Rissa waggled her brows at Freddie. “I’m outta here,” Izzy said, dropping her feet off the railing to stand. Maybe if she ran for it— Abby pointed a finger at her. “Sit down, young lady, and finish your cocoa.” “Yes, ma’am.” The werewolves’ laughter drowned out Freddie’s sputtering. Wrapped in a woolen blanket, Izzy hunkered down in her chair, keeping a wary eye on her foster mother. Babies? Jesus.

Chapter Forty-Two Luke snuggled Ginny Crandall close, inhaling her sweet baby-and-honeysuckle scent. His wolf sighed in happiness having the little female under their care. Nuzzling her cold nose against his neck, she wrapped a wet, mitten-covered hand around his ear and sniffled. He kissed her cheek. “You’re all right, precious. I’ve got you now.” He wished he could fix all his pack’s problems so easily. Stefan laughed. “She does like to lead people around by their ears, I’ve noticed.” Dev’s chuckle brought Ginny’s head up. “Oh, yeah. Gonna be a dominant, this one. Come here to Grampa, sweetie. Let’s go find your grandma. I heard her mention something about cookies.” “Ookies?” Ginny flung herself into her grandfather’s arms. “Oof. Later, Luke.” As they left, a dozen kids raced past laughing and squealing, their arms and legs wheeling in the slippery, packed snow. But it was the sight of Isabelle with her head thrown back, laughing, that had Luke tripping over his own feet. Damn, had there ever been anything prettier? “Ah, the mating dance,” Stefan said. “Your father would have liked to see you fall prey to that. ‘Far too independent for his own good,’ he liked to say about you.” He shook his head. “He had no idea.” Grief swept over Luke. At least a dozen times a day he wished his father were here, to offer advice, a smack in the head, or just to sit and have a drink with.

Abruptly, Isabelle stopped and locked eyes with him, her brow furrowed in concern. For a second he thought a grizzly might have sat on his chest, it was so hard to drag in a breath. But then she offered a shy smile and the world started turning again. “He would have liked her,” Luke said. “She busts my chops every chance she gets.” Stefan laughed and cuffed him on the shoulder. “Oh, I dare say he would have. Go on, son. Your mate is waiting.” Luke didn’t have to be told twice. Isabelle rose from her rocking chair as he climbed the porch steps, gazing at him as if she’d never seen anything like him before. “Hey there,” he said once he stood in front of her. “Hi.” “Oh, for crying out loud,” Freddie muttered. Without taking his eyes off Isabelle, Luke punched him in the shoulder. A tap, really. Isabelle folded her arms across her chest. “What?” Luke asked. “I was being friendly.” “Uh-huh,” she said. “Stop whining, Fred.” Luke ignored the human’s gritted complaints as he greeted the other ladies. But really, he only had eyes for his mate. Despite her lingering injuries, she looked better today than she had the day they met. A faint blush of color had grown in her cheeks and the tiny muscles around her eyes seemed more relaxed. “Luke, why don’t you take Izzy for a walk around the yard while I get you both something to eat?” Abby said. “Yes, ma’am.” He wrapped an arm around Isabelle’s waist and hustled her down the steps before she could come up with an excuse to stay. When she huffed and pushed his arm off, he said, “I like your mom.” “You would. She’s as bossy and manipulative as you are.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m not bossy. And ‘manipulative’ doesn’t sound very nice. I’m caring and shrewd.” Isabelle blinked, then there was that laugh again. Oh, yeah. He could get used to that sound. “You’re an idiot,” she said, taking some of the wind out of his sails. “But then, so am I.” “Oh-kay.” She was a little weird, too, but damned if he’d mention it. Grabbing her by the waist, he spun her out of the way of one of Dev and Liz Crandall’s grandkids as the boy darted by. Then more yelling juveniles charged through, followed by Hank Dodd yowling like something from a bad horror flick. Branches stuck out of the sleeves of his coat, and a knit scarf was tied around his head, one end trailing in the wind. He dragged his right leg behind him and waved his wooden appendages in front of him like feelers. “Arrrrga!” Luke laughed. “Sugar, your father is a brave man. The demon horde usually intimidates the heartiest souls.” “Please,” she said with a snort. “He raised foster kids from the streets. Unless one of those hellions changes into a wolf, there’s nothing new they can show him. Um...they won’t do that, will they? Get all grrr argh, right?” “Uh, no,” he laughed, again. Here and there people called out to them or stopped to say hi. On the lake side of the house, the land dipped down to the shore, allowing for French doors from the yard into the finished basement. Light filtered out the panes, throwing dancing shadows onto the snow from the pack’s teen contingent playing pool and foosball in the rec room. A sturdy blue missile flew around the corner and ran right into Luke’s legs, almost laying him out on his ass. “Whoa, Justin!” Dean’s younger son clung to his calf like a leech

while several more of the horde gathered around them. “Uh...” Isabelle said. Half-a-dozen juveniles stared at her and sniffed. Eyes wide, she turned to Luke. “Little beasts,” he chided, before introducing them to his mate. Justin, always the ringleader despite being the youngest, let go of Luke and stepped in front of Isabelle. “My momma says you’re Luke’s mate.” Oh crap. “Justin—” “Guess she’s right about that,” Isabelle said, knocking the air from Luke’s lungs. Shrewd green eyes narrowed, Justin leaned closer to her and took a long, deep sniff. “You don’t smell like you’re mated.” She wouldn’t. Not until they’d claimed one another. Then everyone would know they were taken. “Uh...” she said, squirming a little. Before Luke could rescue her, Parker Crandall, ten years old and the oldest of Liz and Dev’s grandchildren, piped up. “My grandma says Ms. Izzy saved Rissa from the rogues.” This statement was met with gasps of wonder and oohs from the horde. “Well,” Isabelle said, a blush darkening her cheeks. “She came to save us. I just helped when she needed it.” A collective “ah” rose from the crowd. Justin nodded sagely. “Because that’s what a pack does.” Isabelle’s mouth dropped open. Finally, she met Luke’s gaze and a bright light burned in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “It is.” *** Izzy breathed a sigh of relief as the kids finally moved off, enticed by the call of food. Their ready acceptance had knocked her for a loop. Hell, so had her own responses.

Luke led her toward the frozen lakeshore a hundred feet from the house. “Are you all right?” Conversation and laughter drifted from the house. Freddie’s voice rose above the din as he shouted a greeting to someone. Through the enormous windows, she watched Abby nod at something Lena said and Marianne pick up the toddler Luke had cuddled. “Why are you sad?” he asked, pulling her to a stop under the bare branches of a maple tree. “It’s just...it’s stupid.” “What?” “You’re all so...normal.” Luke huffed a laugh. “What did you expect? Knockout dominance challenges among the preschool set?” “No. Yes. I don’t know.” God, how could she explain all the warring thoughts pounding in her head without insulting him? Well, more than she already had. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Tell me.” She shivered at his touch. “My family is here, surrounded by werewolves. Werewolves. But then there’s this tiny girl toddling around with her big brown eyes and dimples, for God’s sake.” “And how could you be afraid of dimples, right?” She nodded, frowning again. That child was just a baby. Lycanthrope or not. He tapped her on the nose. “That’s Ginny. Don’t let the pink sparkles, teddy bear hat and matching boots fool you. She’s vicious. She’ll steal chocolate chip cookies right out of your hand, without batting an eye.” He shuddered. “Vicious, I tell you.” “Hardy-har, jackass.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling in the torchlight. “Well, sugar, got to say you don’t seem too frightened of me anymore.”

No. She wasn’t. At all. Or of his pack. She didn’t even see them as something foreign anymore. They just seemed like...people. And how insane was that? Taking her hands in his, he shifted to block her view of the house. “Isabelle?” For years, she and Bess had suffered alone under their grandmother’s cruelty. “Is this what we were missing? Don’t get me wrong, Hank and Abby were”—her voice broke—“everything. But before, could we have had this?” Luke let out a breath. “Probably not in Chicago with those murdering bastards running the show. But somewhere else?” He stroked a thumb over her cheek, brushing away a tear. “Yes.” Yes. The word ricocheted in her brain until it was the size of a ballistic missile. It hurt. Her sister—what would her sensitive and stubborn sister have been like if they’d had a pack, a family like this one for those eight years after their parents died? Izzy shuddered, sucking in a ragged breath. Luke cupped her face, his hands gentle and strong. “You can have it now, sugar.”

Chapter Forty-Three “Freddie told me that everyone knew we were mates before I did,” Izzy said. “Including the kids, apparently.” “Isabelle—” “I’m not mad; I feel a little stupid. But I appreciate that you didn’t pressure me. You could have let the magic, or hormones, or whatever it is take the lead. But you didn’t. Thank you.” Gold flared in his eyes. “The mating dance is a blessing. A gift from the goddess. Normally, there’d be no question. We’d both have known exactly what was up and we’d have embraced it, trusted in it. But you were afraid of me and didn’t understand what was happening. Allowing the dance to drive us would have been forcing myself on you. I’d never break your trust that way, Isabelle.” “I know you wouldn’t,” she said, reaching for his hand. Within, her wolf’s buzz rose until it warbled, almost like a call. Luke swallowed, like he had a lump in his throat. “So I made Freddie a promise. I’d give you time and let you decide. Even—even if you decided to leave.” God, he floored her. Absolutely fucking wrecked her. How could this strong, honorable man want her, an ignorant, bitchy disaster? A dull ache throbbed in her hand and she realized she was squeezing Luke’s like she was hanging over the edge of a great abyss. “You’d really let me go?” A salty smell like the ocean surrounded them, totally wrong for the freshwater lake at their feet. All at once, she realized it was the scent of his grief. A sea of tears waiting

to be shed. Luke’s eyes turned completely gold and the wolf hovered in his jagged voice. “If that’s what you really want. Isabelle—” “I don’t want to leave,” she whispered, reaching for the lifeline he offered. “Wha-what?” The naked hope burning in his eyes strengthened her voice. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you.” Please, let me stay. Luke froze. As the seconds ticked by and she trembled, he didn’t even seem to breathe. Maybe despite his physical attraction for her, he’d realized that she was too much of a hassle. But then, he hauled her into a tight embrace. The breakneck pounding of his heart danced beneath her ear. Kisses rained down on her head, then drifted all over her face. She laughed. It tickled and he was making these happy little humming noises with each press of his lips. Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled deep and long, and his stubble rasped against her skin. “You smell so good. Rich and sweet. And...” Luke lifted his head to look in her eyes, all the playfulness gone. A slow grin, wild and provocative, spread across his face. The flush it ignited within scalded her down to her toes. “And mine. You smell like mine, sugar.” Without warning, he threw his head back and howled. The sound was eerie and strangely beautiful coming from his human throat. A hush fell over the woods and yard. Then an answering call sang from inside the house. And another. They were joined by others from the porch and the yard, until the mountains themselves seemed to ring with wolf song. She had the strongest urge to raise her voice, too, but she didn’t. “Hank and Abby—”

He silenced her with a quick kiss. “Both their children are pack. They’re ours now, too.” As she tried to process that, Luke pinned her against the trunk of the giant tree. Large hands grabbed onto her butt and lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me, Isabelle.” He nipped her bottom lip. “Now.” Clearly she’d left her old self in a snow bank somewhere, because she actually did what he demanded. His growl of approval vibrated through her entire body as he leaned down and nuzzled behind her ear, sending shivers dancing up and down her spine. When he scraped his teeth along the column of her throat, she moaned, throwing her head back and knocking it against the tree. She couldn’t breathe. Now that the sun had set, it was below freezing. Yet she was burning up, suffocating in her clothes. She yanked at her sweater collar. Yanked at Luke’s, too. “Please,” she said. He’d scrambled her brains so thoroughly, she had no idea what she was begging for. She just...wanted. A growl rumbled over her skin, and he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. When Rissa answered, he spoke, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed a Harley engine. “Taking Isabelle home. Don’t call. Unless emergency.” Good to know she wasn’t the only one muddled. He shoved the phone into his pocket and swung her legs around to carry her in front of him. “Luke, we can’t just leave.” A huge sigh blew across her skin as he buried his face in her neck again, making her shiver. When he lifted his head, it was the wolf looking out at her. “Can,” he said in a guttural voice barely recognizable as English. Blood pounded in her veins as he carried her deeper into the trees. The buzzing presence of her wolf grew until fur rubbed her skin on the inside, the sensation comforting

rather than scary. Her vision changed and everything became clearer despite the dark. To her complete shock, a soft growl trickled from her lips. Tears sprang to her eyes as a strange voice she had never heard before, yet knew instantly, spoke in her head. As Izzy looked into the beautiful and fierce eyes of the Alpha, the voice said, “Mine.” *** Trees blew past like wraiths as Luke ran through them, carrying her in his arms. She’d stopped telling him to let her walk after only a few yards, recognizing blind determination when she saw it. Besides, he smelled so damn good and she couldn’t get enough. The rich, spicy scent filled her senses and she rubbed her face back and forth across the bare skin of his throat, bringing as much of it into herself as she could. She wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled. The hollow at the base of his throat was especially intriguing, so she pressed her mouth there and licked. Intense, dark flavors like chocolate and cardamom burst on her tongue, and she hummed her delight. A growl ripped from Luke’s throat and he broke into an all-out sprint. They crossed the threshold of his cabin two minutes later. Without pausing to turn on a light or take off his boots, he carried her through the dark house. Suddenly, Izzy flew through the air and landed with a breath-stealing bounce on a bed. Luke’s warm, heavy weight dropped onto her before she could even gasp. He rubbed his stubbled jaw beneath her ear, and shivers danced over her skin. It tickled and she laughed. Then she squealed, because he did it again, adding a little bite to her

lobe. “I like when you laugh, sugar. Do it again.” And she did. As if she had any choice. Not with him nipping and kissing and rasping his scruffy jaw over her neck, she didn’t. “Stop! Uncle!” she cried, pounding on his ribs. “I give up.” “No you don’t.” The room spun as Luke rolled to his back, taking her with him, draping her across his wide chest. “You never give up. It’s one of the things I like most about you.” Izzy stared at him, easily able to see his face in the bright moonlight streaming through the room’s many windows. Rays of gold sparkled in his eyes. They were watching her— Luke and his wolf—waiting for her to do what? Freak out, maybe. Tension hummed through Luke, creating a tangible frisson along her skin. But she wasn’t afraid or worried. Delight and a heaping dose of wonder filled her knowing that this strong, responsible, and caring man admired anything about her. She laid her head on his chest. Every breath he took raised her up, then brought her back down like drifting on a wave. Luke sighed and wrapped his arms around her, slowly caressing up and down her spine. “You know, I never just play anymore.” Something in his tone brought her head up. “Sure, I run with the pack during the full moon,” he continued, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve had a good wrestling match, or run around with the kids, or really laughed, for that matter. I guess I haven’t wanted to for a long time.” He tugged on a strand of her hair. “Not until you. You make me want to play again.” They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, Izzy’s heart beating hard.

“Good,” she said finally, her voice choked with emotion. She had no freaking clue how to tell him about everything she was feeling. Everything he made her feel. So she kissed him. On the jaw. On the cheek. On the tip of his nose. Luke laughed and she pressed another kiss on his neck. Damn, he smelled good. “Mmm,” she murmured, nuzzling his throat. She rubbed her cheek against his, before dropping slow, soft kisses all over his face. The different textures, his scent and taste, demanded she take her time. Explore. Savor him. He let out a low laugh that was half groan. “What?” she asked, moving back to his throat and breathing deep when she reached the little hollow. The skin there was silky and smooth. God, why did he smell so good? “I was thinking I should call you ‘kitten’ from now on.” Pushing his shirt aside, she rubbed her face over the top of his chest. “Huh?” He laughed again. “You’re scent-marking me like a cat.” “What?” she asked again, trying to pull together a coherent thought. But she was derailed by how handsome he was. A flush covered the apples of his cheeks and his eyes glittered. “Excuse me?” Grinning, he smoothed her hair, petted her. “I like it. You’re claiming me.” He stroked the curve of her ear with his thumb. “Little kitten.” “Oh? Well, this kitten has sharp teeth.” She nipped his jaw and Luke moaned beneath her. Nice. She repeated the motion, but this time on the spot just below his ear. His low groan sounded like a purr and she smiled against his throat. His scent had changed. As devastatingly attractive as it had been before, now it was richer, muskier, and she had to restrain herself from rolling all over him like her old neighbor’s cat with a bag of catnip. She giggled like an idiot

and breathed him in again, shuddering. “Do you know what that is?” “Hmm? What?” Was that her? She sounded dreamy and kind of drunk. A slow smile blossomed on his face, and he touched the tip of her nose. “Remember what I said about paying attention to your sense of smell?” He pulled her head down into the crook of his neck. “This is the scent of lust.” The breath froze in her lungs and then burst from her in a rapid pant, dragging Luke’s enthralling scent in with it. She reared up, pulling him with her by his collar. Jesus, they still had their coats on. Nope. Not going to work. Those had to go. In a flurry of motion, Izzy yanked at his clothes, desperate to get rid of the barriers between them. When her shaking hands proved too clumsy to deal with the buttons on his shirt, she ripped it down the front, exposing his muscled chest and abdomen. A growl of desire bubbled from her lips as she ran her fingertips over him. She wanted to kiss and lick each ridge and plane, so she pushed him back down. The temptation of his skin was a delight to revel in and she did exactly as she desired, licking a path up the strong line of his throat, stopping to suck in places and leave openmouthed kisses in others. Luke pulled in a breath and swore, his strong hands gripping her hips. Nothing before in her experience had ever—could ever have—prepared her for the firestorm of desire racing through her veins. She couldn’t get close enough to him. Every single thing about Luke was as intoxicating as a drug. She was drunk on his scent, high on his kisses. And she never wanted to come down. She wanted to become a part of him and make him a part of her so they could never be

separated. The sensation of fur stroking beneath her skin returned, decadent and delicious. Her head pounded with a need she couldn’t explain. Her teeth throbbed and her skin drew tight. For a moment, she worried she’d shift and hurt Luke, but her wolf rumbled. And Izzy knew the wolf would never do anything to hurt this man. He was safe with them. Protected. They’d do everything in their power to take care of him. Forever. Izzy shook from the power in that word, in Luke’s hands on her skin, in the vibration of his groans and growls as she touched and kissed him, in his fraying restraint. Dear God, she wanted him, like nothing she had ever wanted before. Underneath her shirt, he slid his burning hands along the bare skin on her sides and back. She shuddered, and when he moved those so-hot hands beneath the waistband of her jeans and palmed the globes of her ass, she lost all control. Her gums burned, and without thinking about it, needing to be closer, she bit him on the strong muscle of his shoulder where it met his neck. Blood flowed into her mouth and she swallowed, coating her tongue in his rich flavor. She moaned. Luke roared. *** Isabelle’s fangs punctured his skin, and Luke froze. She had marked him. A torrent of instinct and need ripped through him, and Luke finally gave up the battle to go slow, breaking the restraints her past had wound around him. His brave, unpredictable Isabelle had surprised him again and taken

what she wanted. And he couldn’t deny her, or his need for her, anymore. He rolled and flipped Isabelle onto her back. Before she could do more than gasp at the change in positions, he shredded her clothes with his claws. Little strips of fabric floated to the ground around them like a ticker-tape parade as he did the same thing to the rest of his own clothes. He was naked and between her thighs within a blink of an eye, his fangs burning in his mouth. He grabbed her hips and stopped. The effort to keep himself from plunging into her like the beast he was made every muscle in his body shake like a tenpoint-oh on the Richter scale. He knew the wolf was in his eyes when he finally raised his head to look at her. Her pupils were huge, her mouth reddened from kissing him, her cheeks flushed, and she was panting. So was he. He needed her, wanted to mark her and claim her as his. Forever. She gripped his biceps, and when she licked her bottom lip like she enjoyed the taste of him, he growled. There was no fear in her eyes, only desire. Her tongue peeked out again from between those swollen, glossy lips, and he saw a spot of blood in the corner of her mouth. She lapped at the little crimson drop and hummed. A desire so immense hit him, it demolished everything Luke was or ever thought he could be. And when Isabelle wrapped her legs around his hips, he was done, remade into someone new. Someone better. A snarl ripped from his throat, and he stared into her eyes as he voiced the one truth that could never change: “Mine.” Then with a gasp, he plunged into her body and bit the soft, fragile skin of her shoulder in a mirror image of what she’d done to him. Marking and claiming his mate for eternity.

Chapter Forty-Four The sun was still trying to peek above the mountains when Luke woke in his bed, with Isabelle’s head resting on his shoulder. He had her wrapped up tight in his arms—exactly where she was supposed to be. Deep, even breaths drifted across his skin as she slept. Her naked body was tucked up next to him, one leg thrown over his. A smile stretched across his face. His prickly, hands-off mate was a cuddler. His mate. He almost couldn’t believe Isabelle was now truly his. Not after the way they met and how afraid she’d been of him. But the matemark on his shoulder was proof, and it pulsed with a warm glow that resonated down to his soul. His own mark on her left shoulder was somewhat hidden by her tangle of long, dark hair. He didn’t remember what had happened to her hair tie or who’d pulled it out. Like their clothes, it was probably a casualty of his desperation to claim her. Gently, he smoothed her hair back and examined the bite mark on the delicate spot where her lovely neck met her shoulder. It was already healing, the wounds closed and pink. By tomorrow, it should be completely scarred over, and almost invisible to the human eye. But not a lycanthrope’s. More important, her scent had changed. Any shifter coming within scent range of Isabelle would know she was mated. The thought made him so deliriously happy, his cheeks hurt from smiling. He wanted to stand on top of the highest peak in the Cabinets and scream it to the world: Isabelle

Meyers was his mate. The satin of her skin beckoned to him. Softly, he ran his hand over her shoulder, down her arm, then up her back, taking care not to touch the branding scar. As he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the velvet of her forehead, she stirred, her thigh gliding over his leg. He hissed at the pleasure that innocent move caused, and Isabelle’s eyes opened. Shining amber greeted him. “Hello,” he said to her wolf. She blinked and his mate’s whiskeybrown irises focused on him. “Good morning,” he said, his voice suddenly raw. An enticing blush darkened her cheeks, and he wondered if he could coax that color to bloom all over her body. “I like waking up naked with you,” he said, pulling her closer with a hand on her hip. She gasped, and yup, the pink stained her chest, too. Sweet. He shifted to press Isabelle to her back and she sucked in another breath. Not one of arousal. “I bit you! Oh my God. Ohmigod, ohmigod, I bit you.” She shrank back in horror. “Isabelle—” He caught her hands as she flailed, her sweet scent smoky and rank with fear and revulsion. “No, oh no,” she moaned, tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. Oh God, no.” “Isabelle, stop!” He put the power of the wolf in his voice and pinned her with his body. “I’m fine. Look at me. You didn’t hurt me.” “I bit you.” Reason and dominance weren’t working, so he tried something else. “Yes, you did,” he said slowly, his eyes at half-mast. “And I liked it.” “Wh-what?” Her eyes followed the slow glide of his tongue as he licked his bottom lip. The taste of her still fresh in his mind.

He’d never forget the moment he claimed her. When he traced his mark on her shoulder, she jerked, then shuddered. “I bit you, too, sugar. Don’t you remember? It was right before I...” He rocked his hips into her, and thank you, Jesus, she moaned. She shook her head and blinked hard, like she was trying to gather her wits and toss off the sensual haze their scents were throwing out. He couldn’t have that. Sliding a hand under her bottom, he canted her hips and pressed her against the hard edge of his arousal. “Feel that, sugar?” She nodded as if on autopilot. “Does that feel like you’ve hurt me?” Eyes huge in her flushed face, she shook her head no. Her heart pounded against his chest. “Damn right you didn’t hurt me. You claimed me. And it was hot as hell.” He ran his fingers over his bite on her shoulder again. The sound she made went straight to his head like hundred-proof whiskey, and his cock pulsed. Which in turn made Isabelle writhe, setting off a feedback loop of sensation and desire. His wolf was thrilled with the situation, but Luke wanted to make sure Isabelle was clear on what had gone down between them. He raised himself onto his hands and knees above her, eliciting groans of frustration from both of them. “These marks,” he said, tapping a finger to hers, then his. “These are matemarks. They seal our bonding and let the world know we belong to each other. Think of them as shifter wedding rings, but better, because these can’t get lost. We can’t get lost. Because our bond will always point us home.” *** Home. Izzy stared at Luke. Talk about shock and awe. He’d

rapidly overwhelmed her panic with a spectacular display of sensuality, tenderness, and understanding, destroying her will to fight. If the military ever found out about him, they’d have him working for CENTCOM directing operations in the Middle East before he could blink. “You smell like my mate now,” Luke said, drawing in a deep breath. His voice was a rumbling purr, and every cell in her body sat up and took notice. “Sniff me, sugar. Do I smell different to you? Last night you seemed to like the way I smelled. See if I smell like yours.” The feelings he provoked shook her to her core. She clutched at him, twining her legs with his, and held on. It still wasn’t enough, because she had never even dared to dream of the life he was offering her on a silver platter. But Luke had given her a glimpse inside a whole new, shining world—an oasis of acceptance and security, glittering green eyes and hot demands. And she planned to drink him down. No more living in the dark alone, dying of thirst. She inhaled and reeled, overwhelmed by his scent. He was right. He smelled different. His essence of pine and stone had grown sweeter, spicier. Cloves and maple syrup. Mmm. Mine. In her head, her wolf sang with joy as Izzy pushed Luke over onto his back. Last night, she’d been too far gone, seduced by the call of the mating dance, to truly explore Luke’s body. She’d seen him naked a couple times now, but she’d never allowed herself to really check him out. Classically handsome, with high cheekbones and a firm jaw, he had golden skin that was velvet soft under her mouth and hands. She had a special fondness for the long, strong column of his throat and the graceful curve of his broad shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said, drawing a surprised laugh out of him. “I think that’s my line.” She didn’t respond. She was too busy examining the matemark on his shoulder; fascinated by it now that she knew what it was. As soon as her fingers made contact, he sucked in a breath between his teeth. Izzy froze. Had she hurt him? No. When he touched her mark, electric desire had rippled through her. “Do it again,” he demanded. Guess that answers that. She quirked a brow. “Like this?” Light as a feather, she outlined the two semicircular curves, and grinned when his head banged against the pillow and groaned. “Or did you mean like this?” Rising on her hands and knees above him, she used the tip of her tongue to trace the mark. With a shout, Luke jerked, then grabbed her hair. “Again.” His voice reverberated with the wolf’s growl, the two voices one. Izzy obliged, loving his wild and instant reactions, and the burgeoning power she had over him. Again and again, she kissed and licked the mark, her hands wandering aimlessly over his chest and arms. When she scraped her teeth over him, he roared and flipped her onto her back. “Hey! I wasn’t done yet.” There was still so much left to explore. “Later,” he growled. “My turn, little mate.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue, his mouth descending in a hot, delicious slide over her lips. His tongue teased until she opened for him and he plunged deep. She moaned and he caught the sound, lapping and taunting, driving her higher until she writhed beneath him. Moving to her jaw, he nibbled and rasped his tongue over her skin, nipping and sucking his way to her ear. “So good.

You smell like cookies fresh from the oven, sugar. I want to taste you everywhere. See if you’re as sticky and sweet as you smell.” He clamped his jaws over the tendon between her neck and shoulder and she bucked. His smug chuckle raised goose bumps all over her body. Apparently claiming him had snapped the chains of Luke’s iron restraint and manners. Bye-bye, civilized man. Hello, feral beast. And she loved it. Digging her nails into his back, she arched under him as he nibbled his way over her chest to her breast. He cupped it in one strong hand, shaping and petting. He circled closer and closer to her nipple. “Luke!” Another laugh and he swirled his thumb over the taut peak, causing her to pant. When he finally closed his teeth over it and sucked, she screamed. Mindless with lust, her heart pounded in time to the pulse between her legs. She tangled her fingers in his unruly hair and tugged. He growled. Whether it was a threat or promise, she didn’t know or care. She just had to have more, because something huge and devastating was welling up inside her. Luke switched to her other breast, treating it to the same exquisite torture as the first, before shifting to slide down her torso. He placed openmouthed, sucking kisses over every inch until she was ready to scream in frustration. “Luke, please.” He lifted his head and green-gold eyes studied her face. “What is it, mate of mine? What do you need?” His fingers danced lazy circles over her stomach, around and around her navel. “Tell me.” She squirmed, trying to find some relief for the empty ache. “Please,” she said again. “Is this what you want?” His big, hot hand cupped her

between her thighs, and lights exploded behind her eyes. He pushed the heel of his palm into her pelvic bone as one long finger played in her curls. She whimpered and bumped her hips up. “More?” Thankfully, she didn’t have to answer because she was pretty sure the power of speech was beyond her. Slowly, so slowly, he sank his finger inside and they both moaned at the penetration. Then his mouth was there, replacing his fingers, licking and tasting her. She screamed and bucked. Too much and not enough. But his wide shoulders kept her legs splayed, his strong hands digging into her hips, holding her just where he wanted her. His every touch, every kiss, screamed possession and she understood now what it meant to be claimed by this Alpha. Totally consumed by his passion and need. She was almost crazy with desire, when he nipped her inner thigh. “Need you now,” he gritted through his teeth. “Need inside. Now.” “Yes,” she hissed. God, yes. Hurry the hell up. Rising above her, Luke hooked one of her legs over the crook of his arm. He positioned himself at her entrance and looked into her eyes. “I love you, Isabelle,” he said, as he pushed inside. “Luke!” Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him down for a kiss. He loved her? He loved her. Tears rolled down the sides of her face into her hair as they rocked together in a relentless rhythm. She wanted to give the words back to him, let him know how much she felt for him, too, but they jumbled all up on her tongue. So she cupped his face and stared into his eyes, trying to convey everything that was tangled up inside. He kissed her tears and buried his face in her neck as he moved harder and faster. She cradled his head to her and met each of his thrusts as best she could until his movements

became wild and unstoppable. Pressing a sucking kiss to her mark on his shoulder, she said, “Mine” as they both shattered.

Chapter Forty-Five Izzy could not stop smiling. She was back in the air, copiloting Dev Crandall’s Bell UH-1H Huey 10 helicopter, sailing over the glorious peaks and valleys of the Cabinet Mountains. Best of all, Luke was with her. She should tone it down, though. It seemed rude to be so happy when they were searching for two missing cops and a murdering asshole of a cougar. “Why do you think this is a good place to search for your rogues?” Izzy asked as the rotors spun down. When Luke had called Dev earlier, she’d been so thrilled at the prospect of flying again, she hadn’t paid attention. “Seems kind of remote. Even for weres trying to stay on the down-low.” From the air, she’d seen no signs of habitation for many miles. The land was rugged and wild, with lots of steep slopes and deep, narrow gorges. They’d strapped snowshoes to their backpacks, but Luke had said they wouldn’t need them for most of the trek. She could see why. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much snow on the ground. Probably because it was so freaking windy. It howled across the mountain face, making the evergreens dance and sway. Good thing she was from Chicago and used to such pissy behavior from Mother Nature. “It is,” Luke said. He rubbed a spot on his chest like he had heartburn. “It’s on the edge of our territory. One of the sections Vaughn supposedly searched.” She tugged her knit hat down over her ears. “And you don’t think he actually did?” “I don’t know. No one’s heard from or seen him or his deputy, Sam. So I can’t ask them about anything. They didn’t

show up at the party last night, they’re not answering their phones, and no one knows where they are. We thought it’d be a good idea to recheck all their sections.” Dev and his son Davy, who’d already shifted into a wolf, joined them outside the helo. “I just don’t see either of those guys turning rogue,” Dev said. Davy barked his agreement. “Won’t know until we find them,” Luke replied, his voice stiff and cold. They fanned out into the trees, the wolf and men making no noise. Hell, not even the snow crunched under their boots. Izzy, on the other hand, sounded like a bull in a china shop. If there was a twig on the ground, she stepped on it. A low-hanging branch, she bumped into it. Luke kept her close as he scanned their surroundings, his face taut. She wished they could go back to his cabin where his eyes had been free of shadows. In a low voice, he said to her, “This is a good time to learn to use your nose. Open yourself to your wolf’s senses. She’ll help you. Don’t worry if you can’t name the scents yet. Just describe them.” Right. Good thing he’d given her the caveat, because city girl that she was, she had no idea what most of these trees were called. Well, Wolfy, what do you think? Over the last two days, Izzy’s wolf had evolved from a terrifying, headache-inducing buzz to an almost-physical presence in her mind. If she closed her eyes, sometimes she “saw” the silver creature pacing or lying down. Like now, she didn’t know if it was her imagination or not, but the wolf snorted at her, as if annoyed. What? Izzy asked her. Don’t like Wolfy? This time, she was sure she heard a disdainful huff. I’ll work on it, she promised. What do you think? Izzy breathed in deep, trying not to get squicked out by the

undeniable sensation of something else stretching inside her. Izzy’s human brain told her she smelled snow and green things—definitely some pine, maybe cedar. The wolf, though, provided more detailed answers in the form of pictures that flitted through her mind like an old film reel. “Whoa,” she said under her breath. “What?” Luke asked, helping her step over a fallen limb. “It’s just...wow.” Finally, a smile turned up the corners of his gorgeous mouth. He brushed the backs of his fingers down her face. “Yeah. It is. Tell me what you smell.” “Well, there are all the trees, of course. I got some birds and rabbits. A big deer. Davy and Dev, and you. She’s showing me pictures. Does that sound nuts?” “No, sugar. We all communicate with our other halves in different ways. Pictures are great. As you grow more comfortable with each other, she may give you something more verbal.” Remembering last night, Izzy snorted. “She’s real comfortable making her position clear on one particular subject.” “Oh?” A blush warmed her wind-whipped face. “When it comes to you, the word ‘mine’ comes through loud and clear.” “Isabelle,” he said with a low, sexy growl. “When we get home—” A sharp bark from Davy made Luke spin around. They were already running when the second bark and Dev’s shout reached them. As they cleared the next rise, the stench hit them. Izzy didn’t have to ask her wolf what it was. Some primal part of her brain recognized it and wanted to get the hell away from it. Death. With lead feet, she followed Luke into a dense copse of

trees. Crows cawed and flapped in the branches, swooping back and forth in front of Dev and his son, where they crouched at the edge of a deep crevasse. Man and wolf wore identical, curled-lip expressions. Luke reached them, peered over the edge, and swore viciously. Izzy didn’t want to look. Whatever was down there was horrible and would stick with her for a long time, maybe forever. Didn’t she have enough nightmares? Yet her stupid, disobedient feet carried her onward, right to edge. Heart pounding, she fought the urge to look. And lost. Fifty feet below, the crows hopped and pecked at a jumbled pile. For one blessed second, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. Then the puzzle pieces clicked together into a picture straight out of a horror film. Body parts—bones with hunks of bloody meat still attached— poked out of the snow. An arm flopped as the carrion eaters fought over it. One huge crow perched on the head of a man with short blond hair. The bird hopped to the ground, revealing the man’s face and the way the mouth hung open as if in a frozen scream. It struck Izzy like a bomb blast. She fell to her knees and retched as the memory of where she’d seen something similar stormed the walls she’d erected three years ago, and tore them down. He looked like the poor guy her sister had killed and so helpfully showed her in a suicide/cautionary video. Luke’s enraged roar scattered the jabbering birds. As they flew away, Izzy saw a deputy sheriff’s hat lying near the body.

Chapter Forty-Six As they flew in Dev’s helicopter, over the mountains Luke loved so much, impotent rage sizzled in his veins. “I can’t fucking believe I left him,” Luke growled. They’d left Sam’s body behind. Sam’s, and the goddess only knew how many more. Like it mattered to Sam now. Besides, if Luke had been any kind of decent Alpha, he would have known when one of his wolves was killed. Hell, he should have felt that Sam was in trouble. Maybe they could have saved him. “Goddammit!” He banged his head against the back of his seat. From her place in the copilot’s seat, Isabelle turned to look at him. Throughout the flight back, she’d kept an eye on him like a rabbit watches a fox. There was a hollow ache in his chest now, where only this morning her light had filled him, burning bright. She was pulling away from him and their bond. It infuriated his wolf, but Luke couldn’t blame her. He was a disgrace and they’d just confirmed all her worst fears about lycanthropes: that death and violence were their stock in trade. Maybe she was right. “We’re going back, Alpha,” Davy said. He averted his eyes as he spoke. Wonderful. Now Luke was scaring his own wolves. “Once we have the right equipment and...” The younger male’s voice trailed off, bereft. “I should’ve stayed with—” Grief choked off the rest of Luke’s words, too. “Sonofabitch!” Dev snapped a second later.

“What?” Isabelle asked. “You still can’t raise anyone at the airfield?” “No. Or Dean either.” The hair on Luke’s neck stood on end. “Is something wrong with the radio?” Could they have been sabotaged, too? Below, the first ring of homes on the outskirts of town were coming into view. They were few and far between yet, but if Dev’s helicopter went down... Isabelle reached out and flipped some switches on the console in between her and Dev. “No,” Dev said. “I can hear and communicate with the other local towers. No one is answering at Townes.” “Shouldn’t you try to radio the sheriff’s station?” Davy asked. “Not yet,” Luke said. “I want to talk to Dean first. I’m going to try the cell.” He dialed his cousin’s number and let it ring until voicemail picked up. He ended the call and tried again. Each unanswered ring wound him tighter and tighter. He tried Rissa next. No answer. His mother, the pack house, Sarah. Nothing. “Fuck.” Isabelle and Davy had their phones out. She swore and stabbed the End Call button. “Mom’s not answering either,” Davy said. “I don’t like this,” Isabelle said. They were approaching the helipad at Townes Aviation. Luke’s truck was still parked in the lot, next to Dev’s. Everything looked quiet. Too quiet. “Where is everyone?” Luke asked. Marianne or Rick should be around, or at least one of the mechanics. But

there were no other vehicles. The landing pad and surrounding area were empty. Dev circled the small airfield once, then maneuvered the helicopter over the tarmac. As they descended, Isabelle said, “I really don’t like this.” “What is it?” “Pull up! Pull up!” she shouted suddenly. “Gun—” Something hit the window next to Luke and the safety glass splintered. A piece of it flew across the cabin in front of him. The helo lurched up a dozen feet. Ping! on his door. Ping! on Davy’s. “What the—” Dev yelled, and they bucked to the left. If Luke hadn’t been strapped in, he would have been lying across Davy’s boots. More glass shattered in the cockpit. “Shit!” “Second shooter, ten o’clock. Go, go, go!” Isabelle said. Luke’s wolf was going nuts, barking warnings and demanding they protect their mate. “Get out of here, Dev!” he yelled. Suddenly, they dipped toward the ground and several more bullets struck the helicopter. The scent of blood rose in the air. The helo spun. Everyone was shouting. Everyone except Isabelle. “Taking the stick, Dev. Now,” she said in a calm, commanding voice that cut through the chaos. They jumped forward and up, and Luke was pushed back in his seat, like he’d launched from a rocket. For a few seconds, there was complete silence, except for the chop of the rotors and the wind whistling through the broken windows. “Anyone hit besides Dev?” Isabelle asked, again with that cool, professional voice. Luke’s stomach flipped over.

Davy popped off his harness and lunged forward. “Dad!” “I’ll live,” Dev ground out. “Got me in the shoulder.” Isabelle unwound the scarf from around her neck and passed it to Dev. “Put pressure on that. You got a medical kit?” “In the back. Davy’s an EMT.” “Good. Davy, get the kit.” Davy scrambled to the rear of the cabin, allowing Luke the room to get up, too, and stick his head into the cockpit. He’d never really paid attention to how many buttons and switches were on the console before. Dozens. Millions. And then there were the souped-up joysticks and pedals. He stared at his mate’s fine-boned hands as they made minute adjustments to the sticks. He had no freaking clue what they did. She could be writing I hate werewolves in the sky for all he knew. But she looked one-hundred percent in control while she did whatever it was she was doing to keep them from falling from the sky. One more slow, deep breath and he was finally able to speak without snarling. Good thing, too, because the scent of blood and fear was ripe in the helicopter, and his wolf was at the end of his patience. “Are you hurt, sugar?” She glanced up at him, her eyes flat and unreadable. “No. You?” For a moment, he had the insane urge to grab her and give her a good shake. Wake her up. Or pull the plug on the robot who’d taken her place. Her vanilla-and-sugar scent was gone. Now she smelled like an icefall, all bitter-cold, stony anger. Whatever she was doing was destroying their mate bond. But once again, they had no time. It looked like they were racing down County Road 4, heading toward the lake. Good. “Take us to the pack house, Isabelle.” “We have to take my dad to the clinic,” Davy said, gently

brushing past Luke. He ripped open a package of bandages and leaned over his father. Isabelle looked over at Dev, then shook her head. “No time,” she said, echoing Luke’s own thoughts. Luke scanned the land out the window. “If that was the reception waiting for us, what’s going on with everyone else?” *** Izzy adjusted their altitude. What I wouldn’t give for my Black Hawk. Dev’s Huey was a great machine, but she wouldn’t mind an extra fifty miles per hour right now. And guns. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of miniguns. Because if anyone tried to hurt the Dodds... For a second, she considered arguing with Luke about where they should go, but the way his voice rang with certainty changed her mind. He rubbed his knuckles against his sternum, as if trying to ease an ache. For some reason, her own chest hurt, too, like a block of ice had taken up residence where her heart should be. After a moment, she asked, “Which way?” Dev gave her directions. “Thank you,” he said when he was through. “I was too slow. If you hadn’t been here—” She waved away his thanks. “Ever fly combat?” “Nah. Not unless you count battling Mother Nature.” “I do,” she said, knowing how hard and dangerous it was to be a search-and-rescue pilot. She shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of training. That’s all.” “And experience,” Dev said, his voice strained. “I didn’t even see those guys until they were already shooting.” She glanced at him and saw sweat beading on his upper lip despite the chill in the aircraft. He seemed to sense her scrutiny, because he said, “I’ll be fine.”

Luke stuck his head into the cockpit. “Smells like that bullet is silver.” He can smell that? “Doesn’t matter,” Dev said. The two males stared at each other, their expressions grim. Finally, Luke laid a hand on Dev’s uninjured shoulder and nodded once. Izzy recognized a soldier’s determination when she saw it. Hopefully, it would last them through the day, because she had a terrible feeling things were only going to get worse. “Luke,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to tell him. Would he even believe her? “There was more than one guy back at the airfield.” “I heard you say there was a second shooter.” “I saw at least four guys. There were two in the hangar. One of them had a rifle. The guy who shot Dev was in the shed, and another was in the conference room window.” She took a deep breath. “I recognized that one.” A growl rose over the rotor chop. “Who?” “Rick.” Three male voices erupted at once. “What?” “Are you kidding?” “You left him there?” Davy shouted. “We have to go back.” Izzy shook her head. The horrified look on Luke’s face made her want to give him some comforting lie. But she didn’t. It could mean the difference between his life and death. “He had a handgun—” “Which he obviously needed to protect himself,” Davy said. “No, kid,” she said, her voice a hard slash. “Rick had a gun and he pointed it right at us.” She leaned forward and tapped a crack on the windshield. If Rick had had a more

powerful weapon or had a better angle, she might be bleeding out right now. “Are you positive?” Luke asked. His voice sounded strangely hollow. “Yes.” “He’s a dead man.” Despite his obvious fury, the wolf was nowhere to be seen in his dark green eyes. They were hard and cold and utterly bleak. She almost reached out to him, wanting to wipe that look from his face. But she kept both hands firmly on the controls, the ice around her heart throbbing with cold. The mission—finding and protecting her family—was all that mattered now.

Chapter Forty-Seven Luke stared at the cracks spreading out from the pit in the windshield. He hadn’t realized until Isabelle tapped the spot —right in front of her—that he was capable of coldblooded murder. When he found Rick... The bastard’s life was over. Dev slapped his palm against the door frame. “Sonofabitch!” “What?” Isabelle asked, scanning the landscape. “Vaughn,” Dev said. “If Izzy’s right about Rick, then we can’t trust the search assignments.” He turned to face Luke. “Rick’s been assigning the search areas, not Liz. He told us that Vaughn had searched the ridge where we found Sam. But what if...” What if Luke had misjudged not only Rick, but Vaughn as well? And in his heart, he knew he had. Because even though he knew better, Luke had bought into the mistrust and superstitions about a dual shifter. Dear goddess, forgive him. “Vaughn’s probably dead,” Luke said, his wolf keening. “No one has seen or heard from him since the night before last.” “What the hell?” Isabelle’s shout broke him out of his self-recriminations. A dark blue Ford Explorer and a white Toyota pickup were speeding down the road ahead of them. Far too fast for the winding, snow-spotted road. “That’s Freddie’s SUV,” Dev said. They gasped as the Toyota rammed into the back of Freddie’s Explorer, causing it to fishtail. The Toyota sped up and crashed into the back of Freddie’s truck again. There

was a flash, and the Explorer’s rear window glass shattered. Isabelle swore violently and the helicopter dropped down fifty feet. “Buckle up,” she ordered. “What the hell was that?” Davy asked, his voice tight with fear. “Gunfire,” Isabelle said. “I’m going to get ahead of the vehicles. Dev and Luke, see who’s in them. I don’t want to hit the wrong target.” Hit? What the hell was she talking about? “Izzy, this isn’t a Black Hawk. We don’t have any weapons,” Dev said. “Don’t I know it,” she muttered. Loudly, she said, “Get in those seats and buckle up.” Luke and Davy looked at each other and dove for their seats, just as the Huey shot forward. Luke grabbed onto the safety harness to keep from being thrown to the floor, as the helicopter lurched to the side. They overtook the trucks in seconds, and Isabelle brought the helicopter down alongside them. Jesus, they were only about twenty feet in the air, squeezed between the speeding trucks and the trees lining the side of the road. He hoped no one came down the opposite lane. “Hang on!” Isabelle shouted. The chopper tipped to the right, and he flung out a hand to brace himself. The crazy angle gave him and Dev a better view, though, and they took advantage of his mate’s fancy flying. The Toyota had three people in it. The windows were all open. Three shocked faces looked at them, and the truck swerved, nearly running off the road. Luke didn’t recognize the guy in the back or the front passenger seat. But the driver... “That’s Joe Crawley behind the wheel,” Dev said. Davy moaned.

“And?” Isabelle snapped. Luke tried not to growl at his mate. She wasn’t the traitor. “And he’s pack. One of Rick’s closest friends.” “I think Freddie and Rissa are in the Explorer,” Dev said. “They are,” Isabelle replied, her voice grim. “If you guys aren’t strapped in yet, you better. This is gonna get bumpy.” With that dire warning ringing in their ears, they did, and fast. The chopper lurched upward and swung to the right. They rose again and dropped in a move Luke could only describe as a hop. At the end, a bone-jarring shudder ran through the helicopter. “Holy shit,” Dev said. “What the hell?” Luke shouted. “Isabelle, are you hitting them?” “Damn straight.” A muffled pop sounded over the roar of the engines. “They’re shooting at us,” Dev said, his voice an octave higher than normal. Luke swore his mate snorted. “With a handgun,” she said, her voice utterly unconcerned. “We’re not armored like a military bird,” Dev reminded her. “Pfft.” “The bullets can penetrate our fuselage.” “Pfft,” she repeated. “You see them stick a .50 cal or RPG launcher out the window, you let me know.” Holy crap, his mate was nuts. Boom! They smacked the top of the truck with the chopper’s landing skids again. Several more muffled pops sounded, and a crack appeared in the glass of Luke’s door. Before he could shout a warning, they shot up dozens of feet, then just as suddenly dropped. “Hang on!” Isabelle called again. Joe’s truck filled Luke’s vision on the right, the rogue’s

scared and angry face only a few feet away. Then they rose five or six feet, and bang! They hit the side of the truck with the skids. And again. “What the fuck are you doing?” Davy screamed. They rose, slowing down. “Knocking the bastards off the road,” Isabelle said. “Look.” They did, as she hovered over the flipped Toyota. Rissa had stopped the Explorer several feet up the road, and was leaping for one of the rogues as he ran for the woods. She landed on the male’s back and slammed his head into the ground three times. Luke’s wolf howled with pride. “Let me out,” Davy said, his eyes gold. “Alpha? I’ll help here.” “Agreed.” Isabelle didn’t have to be told to take them down onto the thankfully empty road. Davy jumped out as soon as the landing gear touched down. Freddie got out of the truck, shouting and pointing down the road. His eyes were huge and scared. Luke read his lips. Go. Mom and Dad. Go. Isabelle pointed to the Toyota where the other rogue and Joe Crawley were crawling out of the ruined truck. Davy shifted on the run, shredding his clothes to ribbons. He went after the rogue, tackling him from the side. Blood flew into the air. On his crutches, Freddie hobbled toward Joe. “Fred, no,” Isabelle moaned, pulling off her safety harness. Luke jumped out the open door and was running for the truck when Joe stood, blood running down his snarling face. The traitor lunged for Freddie, and Luke’s heart stopped in his chest. Rissa shouted and Isabelle screamed. But like

Babe Ruth winding up for a homer, Freddie cocked his crutch and swung it right into Joe’s face. The male went down like a ton of bricks.

Chapter Forty-Eight “Go!” Freddie shouted at Izzy again. But she remained frozen, half in, half out of the helicopter, the rotors slowly spinning above her head. She stared at him, stupefied. He’d just walked up to an enraged werewolf on the verge of a shift and clobbered him. With his freaking crutch. “You have a broken leg, you idiot!” He rolled his eyes at her. “Mom and Dad” was all he said, blasting her into motion. She buckled back into her seat and was about to spool up the engines when she realized that Dev was no longer in the pilot’s chair. “Wha—” Luke jumped into the seat instead. “Let’s go. They’ll be right behind us.” She took one more look at her brother. He had a shotgun resting against his shoulder. Despite the cast on his leg and a crutch under one arm, he looked strong and capable. Probably because he was. “All right. Strap in,” she told Luke. “Yes, ma’am.” She shot him a dirty look and he held up his hands. “Not joking. That was amazing, sugar. I wish I could’ve seen it from up here. If I hadn’t been so busy hanging on, I would have been humming Wagner’s ‘Ride of the Valkyries.’” Heat rose in her cheeks. Her body had a dumbass sense of timing. “Just doing what needed to be done.” She pulled up on the collective and swung them around. “Pack house?” “Yes,” Luke said. “We don’t know what we’re going to find. I’d prefer to not have you anywhere near this shit. Any chance you’d hunker down somewhere safe? I’ll beg.”

She slid her eyes to him. That question didn’t even warrant a response. “Right. Didn’t think so.” He scrubbed his face. “What are you doing, Isabelle?” Duh. Hello. Flying. Trying to take care of the only family she knew. Obviously reading her expression, he said, “I mean, what are you doing to the mate bond? It’s like you threw up a wall or something.” He rubbed his fingers over his heart. “I can barely feel you.” Izzy touched her own chest. Now that she thought about it, her wolf had been pretty quiet. Was that why it hurt? When they’d found the bodies, she’d wanted to stamp out anything to do with lycanthropes. Everything bad in her life stemmed from being one, from being around them. She didn’t know what to say. Hell, she didn’t even know what she wanted from him. She went with the simple truth. “It wasn’t intentional. But...” “But you’re not unhappy about the situation.” He sighed. “I love you. Don’t shut me out.” Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away. Hank and Abby needed her. She couldn’t afford any distractions. No matter how much she ached to take the pain from his voice. “Luke, please. I can’t do this right now.” He was silent for several seconds, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaving goose bumps in his wake. “All right, sugar. Later.” Looking at him would have been an enormous mistake, so she kept her eyes firmly on her flight path. The pack house was visible in the distance, and she descended to skim the top of the trees, increasing their speed. “Eyes sharp, coming in hot.” “Huh?” There was no time to answer as she buzzed over the top

of the huge log-and-stone house. Luke swore as she banked sharply and brought the helicopter around to the front. In the wide, circular driveway, a sheriff’s department SUV that looked like a contestant in the demolition derby lay cockeyed on two flat tires. Beside it, Dean fought with a man swinging a crowbar, and a large gray wolf. Two more snarling wolves came out of the trees and stalked toward the fighters. “Are those—” “Get me down there,” Luke said. “Now!” Not pack. Got it. “Are you armed?” Furious gold eyes and lengthening fangs answered her. “Right,” she said, under her breath. Like he needed any more weapons. The dense tree line on one side of the yard and the house on the other made maneuvering tricky, but that’s what Uncle Sam had trained her for. Izzy came in fast, dropping down to hover right over the combatants. That caught their attention. The rotor wash wasn’t strong enough to topple a guy Dean’s size, but the wolves had a little more trouble keeping their feet. The downburst forced them to crouch and it rocked the crowbar wielder back on his heels. Dean took advantage and kicked the guy into his truck. Literally. He knocked the guy through the windshield, into the SUV. Hoo-ah! Luke whooped, then stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “Get your parents, sugar. Then get to safety.” He flung open the door, wind whipping his wavy hair everywhere. “I love you.” Then he leapt from the helicopter. *** Luke landed in a crouch, claws and fangs at the ready. A

brown-and-gray wolf he didn’t know immediately leapt for him. Luke spun and kicked the sonofabitch in the head, sending him sailing across the yard to slide into the underbrush at the edge of the forest. The racket and wind from the helicopter faded, and Luke turned to square off with the other unfamiliar wolf. Snarling and the sounds of fists hitting a solid body carried in the sudden quiet, but he didn’t take his eyes off the rogue. Dean could handle himself. The wolf stalked nearer. More cautious than his partner, he watched Luke’s every move. He was a big beast, tall and solid. Twice the size of any natural timber wolf. His brindled gray fur bristled, and he wrinkled his snout at Luke, baring sharp, yellow fangs. Luke’s wolf snarled in his head, wanting out to fight. Not yet, Luke told him. To the rogue, he said, “What? Never hear of a toothbrush?” The timber wolf darted left, feinting a swipe at his calf. As Luke pivoted to counter the attack, the rogue twisted and sprang at him. Luke’s head smacked the ground, but he rolled backward, using the rogue’s momentum to carry them over. Luke tossed the bastard off and popped to his feet, pouncing onto the wolf’s back before the beast had a chance to regain his footing. With a wrenching twist, Luke broke the male’s neck. Snow fountained up next to Luke’s knee, and he rolled to the side, even before he registered the sound of gunfire. A stranger, sporting a beard and camo pants, lunged out of the woods pointing a pistol at him. Luke was already diving for the cover of Dean’s demolished truck when he heard his mate. “No!” she screamed, drawing the guy’s attention and aim. And then, damn it to hell, she walked toward him, firing a

gun as she went. Her hands were steady and her face grim as she put one bullet after another into the bastard’s torso. Two, three, four shots. The male fell and didn’t get up. Luke collapsed to his knees. The wall of ice she’d built around their bond throbbed in his heart. Goddess, she could have been killed without them ever having a real relationship. He wanted to shake her. “Luke! They’ve got Nate!” Dean shouted, his voice filled with agony. “They’ve got my boy!” Without waiting for a response, he jumped over the body of the wolf he’d been fighting and took off running toward the lake. Oh God. Luke choked back a roar of fear. He looked at his mate, who had horror written large on her face. Indecision turned his limbs to lead. He couldn’t leave her alone. “Go! Find him,” Isabelle told him, holding up her gun as if offering evidence of her ability to take care of herself. Then she proved it again, by spinning on her heel and taking aim at an approaching SUV. She dropped her stance just as quickly, and Luke realized the same thing she must have: Rissa was behind the wheel. Looking over her shoulder at him, she said, “Go. We’ve got the house.”

Chapter Forty-Nine Izzy ground her teeth against the urge to go to Luke and hug him or something equally sappy. The problem was the look on his face: the indecision, worry, fear, and love all rolled into one. She wanted to make him feel better, tell him it was all going to be fine. But they didn’t have time for that crap. And everything was definitely not fine. Finally, he raised his hand, as if it weighed a hundred pounds, and said, “Stay safe.” Then he ran after Dean. “Stay safe,” she muttered as she stomped across the yard. “In this fucking town?” Nearby, Rissa and Davy checked out the rogues’ bodies. One wasn’t quite dead, and it lunged at Davy, who was still in wolf form. Before Izzy could even raise her gun, Davy savaged the other wolf’s throat. Blood arced over the shrubs and snow. As if it had been lying in wait, the memory of the night her parents were murdered crashed into her. The pinch of the seat belt cutting off her breath. Bess’s screams ringing in her ears. Her mother’s blood, glistening like ink in the moonlight, and the copper scent of it filling her nose. Gagging, Izzy swayed and almost fell on top of the man she’d shot. He lay dead at her feet, blood soaking his plaid shirt and pooling in the trampled snow. The sight snapped her back to the present. Had this bastard been in the house with Hank and Abby? Izzy poked the rogue in the ribs with the toe of her boot. “Is that it? Did you hurt Hank and Abby?” She kicked him, rocking his body. “Did you? Is that why they aren’t

answering their phones? You filthy.” Kick. “Fucking.” Another. Harder this time. Bone cracked. “Were!” “Izzy!” Teeth bared, the wolf buzzing in her head, she whirled around with a snarl...on Freddie. Horrified, she stumbled, her legs reduced to jelly. “Oh, oh...no.” She could have hurt him. Even now, her hands were clenched into fists and the wolf— Shut the hell up, she told the beast, slamming a steel door closed on it again. You don’t get to come out to play. She was not going to be like her sister. Finally, the only sound in her head was her pounding pulse. “Freddie, I’m so—” “Come on, Iz. We gotta find Mom and Dad. Plus...” He looked at the rogue. “I think you killed the bastard already.” She blinked at him. “What?” With a huff, he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her toward the house. “Mom and Dad,” he said, enunciating each word. “Move it.” Shame welled within her. For God’s sake, what was wrong with her? More to the point, what was wrong with him? Hadn’t he seen her going psycho? He jerked his head toward the pack house and hurried her along. Together, they made their way around Dean’s smashed-up SUV and onto the wraparound porch, where Rissa waited for them with Dev. Pale and sweaty, he looked like he might fall over any second. “It’s the silver,” he whispered as if he could hear Izzy’s thoughts. “Burns like a sonofabitch. I can handle it.” Whatever. What was she going to do? Demand he wait outside where anyone could come up on him? “Where’s Davy?” Freddie asked. Grim-faced and blood-streaked, Rissa said, “I sent him to

help Luke.” She nodded at the sturdy front door. “Ready?” Body hidden behind the wall, Izzy peered through the windows to the left of the door. She saw nothing but furniture and a dark room. On the other side, Freddie did the same thing. “Nada.” He waggled the shotgun and glanced down at Izzy’s Berretta. “Trade me.” She did and he laid one of his crutches against the porch railing. Jesus, she wanted to whisk him away from here. Away from all the blood and violence that followed weres. Away from her. But they had no choice now. “Ready,” Freddie said to his mate. Rissa twisted the knob and threw it open. The heavy door banged against the inner wall. Several seconds passed. No one shot at them. Nothing jumped out or growled. Before Izzy could object, Rissa slipped inside. Stupid, stupid. Werewolf or not, Rissa wasn’t bulletproof and she wasn’t armed. Izzy followed her, then Dev. Freddie brought up the rear. They passed the small sitting room Izzy had looked into from the outside. Everything seemed fine. There was no broken glass or furniture. No muddy, or bloody, footprints mucking up the floor. All the pictures hung neat and square on the walls. Yet the hair on her neck was standing straight up. Just last night, the huge house had been filled with Rissa and Freddie’s friends and family, celebrating their upcoming wedding. Now, late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting intermittent patterns of light and shadows over the hardwood floor. It was eerily quiet. So much so, Izzy almost wished her wolf would start buzzing again, just to combat the heavy

silence. It was creeping her the hell out. Rissa pointed at a closed door on the right side of the hallway. Luke’s office, she mouthed. Then she put her nose to the keyhole and sniffed. She shook her head and opened the door. Izzy pointed the shotgun into the opening and swept it across the space. Rissa was right. Nobody home. As Izzy reached to re-close the door, Rissa stopped her. “Wait,” she breathed. “Fred, you and Dev stay here.” Good. Better to leave the two injured men in a fortifiable position. While Izzy hoped there wouldn’t be any need for her and Rissa to make a run for it, she wasn’t willing to bet on it. The litany of fuck-thats Freddie was about to spew were telegraphed across his face. Then, to Izzy’s utter shock, he looked at his broken leg and whispered, “Fine. Christ, I hate being useless.” Rissa sidled up to him and stroked his chest. “Never that, baby. You’re just a little gimpy right now.” Freddie grimaced, then gave Rissa a light kiss. “Be careful.” He turned to Izzy. “Both of you.” “I’ll find them,” Izzy promised. He nodded and moved into the office. Dev stepped in behind him, his expression pinched, but he only said, “Luna,” before shutting himself and Freddie inside. The lock clicked. Impressive. Izzy had expected more of a fight from him, too. “Benefits of the pack hierarchy,” Rissa said. “Only Luke outranks me. And your brother is a practical man.” “Great. Let’s go.” Time seemed to be slipping away from them. With each beat of her heart, she grew more anxious. “How many people live here?” Izzy asked. “Now? Just Lena. Luke refuses to move into the Alpha’s

rooms. But there should be almost a dozen people here today, including my mom and your parents.” Then where the hell was everyone? Together, Izzy and Rissa moved through the first floor, clearing rooms as they went. At each entryway, Rissa sniffed before they stuck their heads into the line of fire to visually check for signs of struggle or anything out of the ordinary. It took only a few seconds to inspect each room, yet to Izzy it felt like an eternity. Despite the quiet, undisturbed state of the house, a looming sense of doom made her palms sweat. At the back of the kitchen, they reached the stairs that led down to the finished basement. “We have reinforced safe rooms downstairs,” Rissa said in a hushed voice. “That’s where they would go if they couldn’t get out safely.” “Under normal circumstances, I’d question why a supposedly peaceful group of people required such a thing, but I guess I already have that answer. Don’t I?” Rissa’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s just go.” Before she’d even made it down three steps, she turned to Izzy with wide, panic-stricken eyes. “Oh, goddess, no.” *** “Dean!” Luke ran headlong after his cousin, weaving between trees, and ducking under branches that could take off an ear —or a head—given their speed. On his right, Davy kept pace on four paws. They were miles away from the pack house now. Too many miles. His wolf growled low in his head. Where was Nate’s scent? Luke knew the six-year-old’s scent as well as his

own. But they hadn’t encountered anyone’s since he’d left Isabelle behind. If he was a proper Alpha like his father had been, he might be able to sense Nate through the pack bonds. Dean ran on, twenty feet ahead, his long legs eating up the terrain as if there were no fallen branches or shoulders of rock jutting into his path. “Wait, Dean!” He didn’t. So Luke drew more speed from his wolf and threw some of the power of the Alpha—for all the good it could do—into his voice. “Stop!” His cousin spun and skidded to a hockey stop as if he were wearing skis, his boots sending up a fountain of snow. “What?” Dean panted. The whites of his eyes showed all around glowing gold irises. “Do you see something?” “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Luke asked. “I don’t smell anyone.” Davy whined and jerked his muzzle in the direction they had come. Back toward the pack house. He didn’t smell anything either. The scent of Dean’s fear burned his nose. “I—I...” “Maybe we missed the trail?” Luke offered. But the way his wolf was pacing and grumbling, he didn’t think so. Before he could suss out what his beast was trying to convey, Dean said, “Sarah. I—” He rubbed at the center of his chest, where Luke knew he felt the mate bond. The same spot where Luke’s ached like a hollow tooth. “She’s scared...”—Dean’s voice dropped into a barely understandable snarl—“and hurt.” The muscles in Luke’s neck cranked tight as an inquisitor’s rack. “Where is she?” Dean took two long strides before stopping with a lurch. “Back at the house, but—” He looked around the woods, his face twisted into a grimace of fear. “Nate,” he moaned, causing Luke’s wolf to surge to the surface.

The image of the pup’s wild blond curls and deep green eyes flashed in his mind. If someone hurt him... Where could he be? They’d have to backtrack. Pacing in a jerky circle, sniffing and scanning the ground, Dean mumbled to himself, “Where? She said they headed south.” A nasty, greasy feeling settled in the pit of Luke’s stomach, and he couldn’t rein in his beast’s growl even if he wanted to. “Who told you they went this way?”

Chapter Fifty Before Izzy could stop her, Rissa leapt down the flight of stairs. She landed in a crouch and rolled out of Izzy’s field of vision. Izzy swore loud and long—but only in her head. She couldn’t spare the breath; she was too busy running down the stairs as quickly as her stiff, clawed hip would allow. “Never be where the enemy thinks you’re going to be,” her first drill sergeant had said. Two steps from the bottom, she crouched and hopped down. It saved her life. Something flew past her and smashed into the wall, right where her head would have been. Drywall exploded and pelted her back, leaving an eight-inch hole in the wall and a chunk missing from a two-by-six stud. Openmouthed, she watched a freaking eight ball roll smoothly away. Rissa flew past in a blur, crashing into the wall with a solid thump. Her pale blond hair whipped around with the impact, and she dropped to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. Izzy shouted wordlessly, bringing the shotgun around to point at— Pain detonated in her side like she’d been hit with a round from a .50 cal. She collapsed, gasping like a landed fish. Get up! Get up! But she couldn’t seem to coordinate her flopping arms and legs. Across the room, a guy with a graying beard held a pool ball in his hand. He tossed it up and down, as if weighing it. “Want another?” He was huge, almost as big as a...bear. He

smirked at her and fingered a heavy studded belt wrapped around his stout waist. “Or do you want the belt?” Uh, neither, thanks. But he wasn’t talking to her. “Nah.” A hand grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her up. “I think I’d rather use claws. And teeth.” A man in his midtwenties with long brown hair and palegold cat’s eyes held her, six inches from his face. He curled his lip, and fangs lengthened in his jaws. “You killed my brother, bitch.” “Today?” There wasn’t quite enough time to call herself stupid before she slammed into the floor. The rogue straddled her waist, digging his knee into her injured hip. She tried to punch him, but he caught her fist with ease. He looked at the bandage sticking out from her sleeve and tore both away, revealing the healing bite wound. He licked it and smiled. “My brother gave this to you. His name was Curt Markes. You’ll remember it, because I’ll have you scream it when we’re fucking you to death.” Great. The other cougar. Dread raced up her spine in an icy-hot rush, setting off her wolf. Its hum rang in her ears. It wanted out, wanted her to shift. Ants ran under her skin, a trickle of sensation that built into a damn marathon. To hell with that. By the time she shifted, she’d be dead. Besides, she had no idea how to fight on four legs. Mentally, she shoved the wolf back into its cage and locked it. Markes blinked as if startled. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he held her down and sniffed her neck. He laughed, then casually banged her head off the floor. “Guess the stories are true: a werewolf who’s afraid of her own beast. Pathetic.” A bright, happy laugh—the kind you’d expect from Disney fairies—jerked Izzy’s attention to the corner where

Rissa still lay in a crumpled heap. A woman crouched over her. For one beautiful, amazing second, hope filled Izzy. Then Markes asked, “Is she dead?” Bile burned the back of Izzy’s throat when the familiar voice answered, “Not yet. Gimme a sec.” “Daphne,” Izzy spat, as if the name were the vilest curse she could utter. Rissa’s younger sister appeared above Izzy. Of course it was Daphne. Hadn’t her mate, Rick, been one of the bastards shooting at them at the airfield? “Traitor,” Izzy said. Daphne shrugged. “Sticks and stones.” Markes stood, dragging Izzy with him. He twisted her bitten arm behind her back, digging his fingers in. Trying to ignore the pain, she hissed, “Where are Hank and Abby?” She could barely speak past her fear. Her foster parents would have completely trusted Daphne, their soon-to-be daughter-in-law’s family. Just like Izzy had. God, she was a moron. Again, but louder, she demanded, “Where are Hank and Abby?” The enemies’ laughter was the worst sound Izzy had ever heard. More horrible than her mother’s last scream. Even worse than the thump of Bess’s body hitting the floor after she killed herself on camera. Because Izzy was responsible. All her life, she’d avoided werewolves and shape-shifters like the plague. But just when she should have been running the fastest to get her family away from them, she got all cozy with the Alpha. She couldn’t have failed the Dodds more if she tried. Or, maybe she could. Abby appeared in the hallway on the opposite side of the room, an aluminum baseball bat in her hands. “Get your

filthy hands off my daughter.” The three weres turned and laughed again. Izzy screamed, “Abby, no!” The big guy stepped toward her foster mother, and Izzy kicked the back of his knee, collapsing his leg and making him stumble. Then she drove her head backward into Markes’s face. Something crunched and he howled, loosening his grip on her arm. Daphne shrieked as a wrecking ball of blond fur smashed into her. No time to celebrate Rissa’s return to the fight. With a twist and a knee to the groin, Izzy was free of Markes and diving for the bear’s legs. Wrapping herself around them, she held on. Not the most graceful offensive in the world— more like a toddler throwing a tantrum—but she had to buy Abby time. “Run, Abby!” Someone slugged Izzy in the side of the head, and all her muscles decided to take a vacay. As if picking up nothing more substantial than a wet rag, Markes jerked Izzy up by her throat. Choking, she kicked and raked his hands with her nails. Useless. All useless. Black ate at the edge of her vision. “Bitch,” he said. “When I get through with you, you’ll wish you’d died in that crash.” As her sight shrank to a narrow tunnel of light, she heard a snarl and a crack! like a gunshot. Markes’s head whipped to the side just as a gray-and-white wolf leapt toward him, fangs flashing. Izzy fell into darkness.

Chapter Fifty-One Izzy regained consciousness like a freight train barreling down the tracks: with a roar and a shudder that shook her from head to toe. “Easy, Iz,” Freddie said, trying to push her back down. “Abby?” she wheezed. Freddie’s face crumpled. “They took her.” She shook off her brother’s hands and jumped to her feet. A wave of dizziness threatened to knock her on her ass, but she ignored it. Didn’t matter if she fell. She’d crawl if she had to. She took a lurching step. And another. “Wait, Iz.” She didn’t. Couldn’t. Swaying, she aimed for the French doors that opened out into the backyard, but Rissa stood in her way, human and naked and streaked with blood. “Don’t run off half-cocked, alone,” Rissa said, panting slightly. One arm hung awkwardly at her side. The shoulder looked dislocated. Behind her, someone pounded on a door, and Izzy spun around, fists up. In the hallway that ran deeper into the basement, Dev leaned against a wall. Like Rissa, he was naked and dripping blood from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. He pounded on the door again. “Sarah, open the door.” Izzy turned back to Rissa, pissed at more than just being startled by Dev. “Why shouldn’t I go after Abby right now? So more of your pack can show up to help like your sister

did?” Tears leaked from Rissa’s eyes and trickled down her face unchecked. Izzy felt like a bitch. Who knew better than she did that sometimes sisters betrayed you? To Rissa’s credit, she didn’t try to defend her sister. “Getting yourself killed is not going to help Abby.” “Come on, Sarah. Please,” Dev said, still talking to a closed metal door. “Are Hank and the boys in there?” Silence. “Are they?” Freddie whispered, hopping on one crutch toward the other man. The hope in his voice was a siren’s call and Izzy followed him. The steel door looked like it could withstand a nuclear blast. Scuffs and scratches marred its surface, and it had a dent near the knob. Weird, muted, high-pitched growling came from within the room, fierce and nasty. Izzy’s heart rate ratcheted up. God, please let Hank be okay. Dev exchanged a look with Rissa. He tipped his chin to a control panel mounted next to the door. “The code’s been changed. It’s locked from inside.” “Are you sure it’s Sarah in there?” Rissa asked. “I think so.” He pointed to a smear of red near the knob. “That’s her blood.” Grim-faced, Rissa stepped up to the control panel and pressed a button. “Sarah? It’s Rissa. Open the door.” After a few seconds, static rasped, then the doctor’s familiar voice said, “Not sure I should do that.” Rissa’s face registered pain, but her voice was calm when she pressed the mic button again. “Izzy and Freddie are with me. Do you think they’d hurt their dad?” Another few seconds passed, then click!—the door popped open, revealing Sarah. She was clothed, but looked as bad as Rissa and Dev. One side of her face was swollen

and red. Blood stained her tattered shirt. She sniffed, and some of the wariness faded from her eyes. She opened the door wider and Izzy’s heart fell to the soles of her boots. “Dad!” Arm in a makeshift sling, Hank was propped up on a bed in the middle of the room, head back and eyes closed. He was pale. So very pale. Izzy ran toward him, stopping short when two balls of fluff reared up on the bed between them and snarled at her. One, a brindled gray with bright white fangs, took a swipe at her with its claws. “Justin, shh. Stop that,” Hank said, his eyes glazed with pain. He pulled the vibrating fiend back by the scruff of the neck, setting it in his lap, before grabbing the other little werewolf—a werewolf!—and placing it next to its cohort. It was black, with a white strip down his nose and chest. “Don’t be rude. That’s my Izzy-girl.” For a moment, she thought she’d pass out, before she remembered to breathe. The black spots faded from her vision, and she blinked. She tried to form words, ask an intelligent question. Sounds even came from her mouth. Not a bit of it was coherent. She sank to her knees next to the bed. Freddie hobbled around the end of the bed and stood next to her. “Justin? Nate? Holy shit.” The pint-sized wolves continued shaking and baring their vicious-looking fangs. Their ruffs stood on end. Sarah sat down on the edge of the bed and scooped up the black one, cradling him in her arms. He whined piteously as he snuffled under her chin. Justin edged closer to her and sniffed before he flopped down as if he couldn’t stand another second. Hank patted his head. “Poor boy. First change and all this scary stuff. It’ll be okay.”

Izzy reeled. Freddie steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. “Ch-change?” she sputtered. Hank gave her a look she knew well. The one that said she was being stupid. “Where’s your mother?” he asked. “She heard the commotion and damned if she’d leave her chicks to fight alone. Made Sarah let her out.” Again, Izzy’s lungs froze in panic. “They—they took her,” Freddie said. His voice broke. “I could—couldn’t shoot. I didn’t want to hit Mom.” Izzy didn’t remember standing up or grabbing Hank’s hand, but she had. She looked into the eyes of the man who had taken her and Bess in and cared for them when no one else wanted to. No matter how horrible and crazy they were, he’d always been there with a kind word and open arms. “I’ll get her back, Hank. I promise.” He held on to her hand when she would have pulled away. “You called me ‘Dad.’” She nodded and tried to hide her tears by rubbing her forehead against his hand. “Izzy, look at me.” She did. His denim-blue eyes were clear and intent. “The day you and Bess came to live with us was one of the best days of our lives.” He looked at Freddie. “All of our lives. We needed to love you just as much as you girls needed someone to love and take care of you.” She couldn’t help it. Tears poured from her eyes and she sank to the floor again, laying her head on the bed. Hank stroked her hair with a strong, callused hand. “From the moment we met you, we knew there was more than just heartbreak and abuse tying you up in knots,” he said. He huffed a laugh. “Though not even your brother’s imagination was good enough to conjure up the truth.” Freddie chuckled and sat down next to her, rubbing her back as Izzy cried. “Is this what you are?” Hank asked. “A werewolf like

Sarah and the boys?” Inside, her stomach churned and the wolf buzzed loudly. She shook from head to toe, but Hank’s steady voice and soft touch on her hair made her look at him. When she did, his eyes widened and she knew hers glowed wolf-gold. She whispered, “Yes.” Hank stroked a finger over her cheek. “Pretty girl. You and Bess did your darnedest to distance yourselves, didn’t you?” He didn’t really expect an answer, but she nodded anyway. He tugged her hair. “Did you think we couldn’t handle it?” “We...we didn’t want to hurt you.” He rolled his eyes. “As if you ever could.” He scowled. “That’s your grandmother talking, isn’t it? Horrible woman. I should have let Abby snatch her head bald like she wanted.” Izzy felt like she was floating in a dream. She had no words. Only love. And fear. Finally, she managed, “Hank, they have Abby. I have to go.” “Those bastards said you were dead,” he said. “You and Freddie. If we lost you—” His face twisted and he looked over her shoulder at Rissa, who was wearing too-large sweats and was plastered to Freddie’s side. “I’m sorry, honey, but that sister of yours is a mean little snot.” “I know, sir,” Rissa said in a small voice. “Not your fault, sweetheart. Not your fault.” He fixed Izzy with one of his patented I-mean-business glares. “I know I can’t stop you from going. But you do it smart. You take help. And”—he held up a finger—“it’s not ‘Hank.’ And not ‘Abby’ either. You are our daughter. You hear me?” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “Yes, sir. Dad.” He nodded. “Good. Now go find your mother. She has

some things to say to you, too.” Somehow, Izzy found her feet. Freddie hugged her tight. “Izzy—” He hugged her again, his voice hoarse. “Love you.” “You, too,” she choked out. Rissa stopped her just outside the door. “We’ll get Abby back. And then”—her voice descended into a vibrating growl—“we’re going to kill my sister.”

Chapter Fifty-Two As Luke, Dean, and Davy neared the house, the scent of the pack grew. For the first time in Luke’s life, it offered no comfort. With the ease of experience, his wolf picked out individuals from the whole. There were strangers among them—including the rogue werecougar. But that wasn’t what made his stomach roil. He breathed in again, unable to believe what his nose was telling him. Some of the pack weren’t the least bit upset or afraid. No, in fact, they were happy. Elated. His wolf bared his fangs in a silent snarl as a yawning pit of despair opened inside Luke and threatened to swallow him whole. The dense woods ended abruptly, giving way to the backyard...and a standoff. On one side, a strange male held Isabelle’s mother with a clawed hand wrapped around her throat. He was flanked by eight other males Luke didn’t know. On the other side of the yard, Mom faced them with bared teeth. With her, Liz Crandall and Marianne wore expressions of utter horror. Luke knew exactly how they felt. Because between the two groups, their backs to the rogues, stood five of his packmates. Rick, Terry, Tanya, Daphne, and... “You, Stefan?” he asked. “You’re behind this?” Stefan’s smug smile was answer enough. Across the yard, the French doors on the deck opened.

Rissa stepped out, followed by Isabelle. His mate ran to the railing. New bruises ringed her throat. “Mom!” she shouted. The quick snap of a shotgun being racked echoed in the yard. “Uh-uh,” the male holding Abby said. He flashed a parody of a smile at Isabelle and shook Abby, eliciting a squeak from her. “Wouldn’t want to hurt Mommy.” Isabelle paled and lowered her weapon. She turned terrified, pleading eyes to Luke. This morning he’d woken with her in his arms, warm and sleepy, their new bond glowing like a candle in his heart. It had been the best moment of his life. Now their bond was silent and cold. He couldn’t meet her eyes. He’d been so confident he’d prove her fear of lycanthropes wrong. Turned out he was the mistaken one. His pack was no better than the one who’d murdered her family. And he’d dragged her right into the middle of their civil war. He should have let her run. He turned his bitter gaze on Stefan. “I have no problem believing that Terry and Rick would betray their own pack. They always were grasping, lazy little bastards,” he said, ignoring their snarls. “But you, Stefan? You were one of my dad’s closest friends.” Stefan’s smile grew, and Luke’s wolf clawed at his shields. The effort to remain human nearly blinded him with pain, because the depth of his stupidity became suddenly, and appallingly, clear. The trouble with Branson and the mine. The disappearances. The deaths. His voice, when he could finally speak, thundered with his beast. “You killed them.” He struggled to draw in his next breath. “You killed my father.”

Mom cried out incoherently as Liz fought to hold her back. Marianne screamed, “No! Daphne would never help the people who killed her sister!” “Tara was a means to an end,” Daphne said with a shrug. “That’s all.” “Marianne,” Terry said. “We tried to keep you out of this. I’m sorry, darling. We never wanted to hurt Tara.” In a quiet, guttural voice Luke barely recognized, Marianne said, “I’m going to enjoy ripping your smarmy face off, Terry.” Stefan sighed like the whole situation bored him. “Your father was always happy with the status quo, Luke. So concerned with the humans. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t see that there’s so much more for us. We’re predators. We should be kings. Not hiding among the sheep.” Next to Luke, Dean shook with rage. “You killed my sister because you want to come out of the closet? You think the humans will just accept that fairy-tale creatures live among them?” “They will once they realize how much stronger we are. How much we already control them.” Luke snorted. “Humans outnumber us a thousand to one. You’re delusional.” “You’re Branson’s money man,” Rissa said. “You’re behind Apex.” Stefan flinched as if she’d slapped him, and he glanced into the woods behind him. “You’re not as clever as you think you are,” he said, his lip twisted in a sneer. “You killed your Alpha, Stefan,” Mom said, inching forward despite Liz’s hold. Her words slurred around elongated fangs. “You didn’t even try to do it in a challenge, like a real male. You damn coward.” Gold flared in Stefan’s eyes, and he growled.

The wind whipped around the yard, carrying the metallic scents of grief and rage. All around them the trees quivered as if in response. A branch cracked and fell to the ground beneath the trees where Luke had kissed his mate last night. Rick darted a glance toward it, then eased closer. No doubt the little shit would try to use the stout limb as a weapon instead of fighting with tooth and claw like a wolf. They heard a truck racing down the driveway on the other side of the house. The newcomers were pack. Luke could feel them through the bonds, but not enough to determine who they were or whose side they were on. And that had been his problem all along, hadn’t it? Unlike his father, he hadn’t felt the true connection an Alpha was supposed to have with his pack. When Sam died, it’d barely registered. If Luke were a true leader, he’d have known when the young deputy was in trouble. And he definitely would have felt the male’s death. What else had he missed? “What about Vaughn?” he asked, his voice barely human anymore. Was the sheriff a traitor, too? “Where is he?” Rick huffed a laugh. “He was noble and shortsighted as you are, so I killed him.” With a flash of movement, he drew a gun and pointed it at Luke. So much for the branch theory. Before the traitor could pull the trigger, a screaming blur of mud-and-blood-streaked vengeance fell out of the trees onto Rick’s head. Luke’s wolf sniffed in disdain. Rick should have remembered he wasn’t the only one who knew how to stalk upwind. *** Vaughn’s war cry as he leapt out of the trees and landed on Rick obliterated the tenuous restraints holding everyone at

bay. Izzy jumped off the deck and ran for Abby. Luke and Stefan crashed together, fists flying. Then, with a great roar, the bearded man who’d attacked her and Rissa inside blasted through a change. Scraps of cloth flew in all directions, leaving a nine-foot-tall grizzly bear charging at Dean. More weres in human and animal form emerged from all around the house, but Izzy only had eyes for her mother. Every beat of her heart brought the knowledge that she’d never make it in time, that Markes would crush Abby’s throat with a flex of his fingers. But when he glanced away to avoid the surge of bodies from behind, Abby leaned into him as if to kiss his cheek. Markes screamed as Abby bit his jaw. He punched her, sending her sprawling to the ground, just as Izzy raised the shotgun. She pulled the trigger, but Markes was quicker, moving faster than she could track, grabbing her wrist so the shot fired harmlessly into the air. “I don’t think so, bitch,” he snarled into her face. She smashed into the ground, thumping her head and elbow on the ice. Pins and needles rushed through her forearm, and the gun skittered out of reach. Blood dripping from a ragged wound on his face, Markes heaved her to her feet and gave her a brain-rattling shake. “Stupid bitch.” He flung her against a deck post, and the impact hit her like a two-by-four down the spine. Weaving like a boxer on the ropes, she struggled to keep her feet and not let the pain show on her face. She had to buy Abby time to get away. “Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Izzy taunted. “You need a new insult, you scrawny motherfucker. You know, something like that.” Come on, Abby. Get up. Get up. Her right hand still numb, she reached for her knife with her left...and came up empty. An ugly laugh made her skin crawl as Markes stalked

toward her. “Looking for this, bitch?” The werecougar waggled her silver knife. “Come here, let me give it to you.” Izzy dove for the ground, narrowly missing the swipe of the lethal blade, but not the steel toe of Markes’s boot. He nailed her in the ribs and she rolled into another deck post. Air. Can’t breathe. Her mother’s voice cut through the chaos. “Isabelle Elise Meyers,” Abby snapped. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop playing with that foul little man.” If she weren’t already gasping on the ground, Izzy would have cringed at the use of her full name, the sign of tickedoff moms everywhere. Instead it was all she could do to keep Markes off her. She kicked and rolled, trying to knock his legs out from under him. She was unarmed and— Her ears rang not only with the pounding of her pulse, but the buzz of her wolf. It wanted out. It wanted a piece of the bastard who’d dare hurt their mother. A tingling pressure grew under her skin, and Izzy called herself all kinds of stupid. She wasn’t helpless, or unarmed. Markes sliced Bess’s blade across the back of Izzy’s already-injured forearm. It burned like fire, but she didn’t cry out. She used the searing pain. Rolled with it. Welcomed it like a good stretch after a hard workout. The first time Izzy changed into the wolf, it had taken forever and felt like she was dying as her tendons ruptured, bones snapped, and skin split. But now the heat of the shift washed over her in an instant. Strength like she’d never known before was suddenly there for the taking. She took, and was reborn. And when she lunged again, it was with the power of four legs, not two. Hot blood rushed into their mouth as they sank their jaws into Markes’s throat. Pain blazed over their shoulder from a glancing blow of the knife, but they shook their head,

snarling. The male went limp and they dropped their prey in the snow, watching in satisfaction as his shocked eyes glazed over in death. Unworthy, the wolf said. Piece of trash, Izzy agreed. They wiggled out of the remains of her jeans and surveyed the battleground. Abby crouched nearby, the shotgun in her hands. She looked at them, her eyes wide, and an amazed smile on her face. They dipped their head to her. The pack was bloody and faltering, and their mate was on the ground beneath the blond traitor. Ours, her wolf said, their teeth bared in a rolling snarl. They threw back their head and howled. Even through the fear for their mate, the freedom of the call sang through their veins and danced in Izzy’s consciousness like champagne. As one, they called the pack.

Chapter Fifty-Three As Luke charged Stefan, he put aside his thirst for vengeance. Survival was all that mattered, because he and his allies were all that stood between Stefan and the rest of the pack. There were too many who were vulnerable: the children, the elderly, the human mates, and the hapless innocents—like Eric Conroy and the Spokane mechanic— who had unwittingly wandered into the rogues’ hunting area. Luke couldn’t believe that he’d ever thought he should’ve let Stefan and Terry take over. If they made it out of this alive, maybe he’d have Isabelle punch him again. Stefan tried to evade him, but Luke was faster. He crashed into the traitor, struggling to grab hold of something vital, but a deafening roar rent the air, shocking him. Luke slipped, and Stefan slithered out of his grasp. Cold terror froze Luke as an enormous grizzly swung a platter-sized paw at Dean’s head. Dean ducked under the swipe that could have killed a full-grown bull moose and slashed the bear with a quick strike to the side. The distraction almost cost Luke his own life when Stefan took advantage and tried to disembowel him. Luke bent backward, narrowly avoiding a second attempt. Snapping out a kick, he caught Stefan in the hip, making him stumble back. Panting, they circled one another. Shouts and snarls and the thwacks of bodies hitting bodies rang all around. A shotgun blasted near the house. Was that Isabelle’s? Focus, his wolf said. Can’t help Mate if we’re dead. Right. Besides, his mate was a warrior. She could handle

that piece-of-shit cat. Right? She had to. They needed her. “You can’t win. You don’t even understand the power that’s right here under our feet,” Stefan said, sneering. “Money is power, and this territory is sitting on billions in copper and silver. Billions, pup. And your stupid father refused to touch it.” A sheen of red hazed Luke’s vision. “You tried to destroy your pack for money?” Like a damned green kid, he let his anger get the best of him. He lunged and Stefan kicked him in the thigh hard enough to shock the muscle. His leg gave out. Falling to one knee, he barely deflected the bastard’s foot as it sailed toward his head. Before Stefan could regain his balance, Luke slashed him across the thigh. The scent of blood brought a feral smile to his lips. Stefan growled. “The pack doesn’t know what’s good for it. The fact that they chose you as Alpha is proof. And I’m tired of pretending you’re in charge.” Luke hopped back up only to be bulldozed by a tawny wolf he didn’t know. Stars burst behind his eyes as his head slammed into the ground. For a harrowing second, he thought he would pass out. Then things got worse. The wolf leapt on top of him. Claws raked his thighs and chest. Jaws snapped at his face, and Luke just managed to keep the beast away from his throat. As quickly as the wolf had attacked him, it was gone. Luke gasped for breath, trying to get up, but someone kicked him in the side. He rolled away, and caught a quick glimpse of the action near the lake’s edge, where Dean and Vaughn fought the grizzly together. One of Vaughn’s legs didn’t seem to be working right, and Dean’s face was a

mask of blood. Another kick landed on Luke’s side, and something cracked. As he tried to get his hands and knees underneath him, he saw Terry punch Marianne in the face. Rough hands pushed Luke onto his back. “Told you you couldn’t win,” Stefan said with a twisted smile. He leaned down and pressed his forearm against Luke’s throat. Black ate at the edge of his vision. I’m sorry, sugar. Goddess, he loved her, his brave Valkyrie. He should have told her how proud he was to be her mate. Even for a short while. He sent a quick prayer to whoever was listening that they keep Isabelle safe. She’d be okay. She had the pack now; he’d given her that much. And he was even happy she’d cut off their mate bond. Maybe with it blocked, she wouldn’t feel his death. A howl filled the air, energizing and impossible to ignore. Rally cry, his wolf whispered, sounding awed. Suddenly heat flooded his chest and his heart pounded with such force it shook him. A new pressure, like the sweet weight of his mate’s arms, enveloped him, though she wasn’t here. Mine, a voice he had never heard before whispered in his mind. Sugar? Mate, his wolf corrected, leaping for joy. And then, the impenetrable dam Isabelle had built between them cracked and shattered into dust. Her wolf mentally touched his and Luke shuddered. All around him, cries answered her howl. A dozen voices, more. The pack. His pack. A cascade of new sensations flooded Luke. Behind his eyes, for the first time, the pack glimmered like moonbeams on water, fluid and rippling. Individuals rose up like little islands. He felt them. Everyone in the yard. The others...all

the others. And Isabelle, shining as bright as the moon herself. “Get up. Get up!” The sound of her voice ringing in his head filled his heart, too. Ours, his wolf said. Luke’s eyes snapped opened and he wrapped his hands around Stefan’s biceps. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t breathe. He was Alpha and had the power of the pack behind him. As Luke’s grip tightened like a vise, he found the traitors through the pack bonds. All of them. Like snuffing out a candle, he severed their connections to the pack—there one instant, gone the next. The beast fled from Stefan’s eyes. Pale blue irises, full of fear stared back at Luke. He pushed Stefan’s shaking arm away from his throat. “Don’t call me ‘pup,’” he said, right before he punched the bastard in the jaw just like his mate had shown him. Stefan flew up in the air and landed fifteen feet away. Luke didn’t give him time to recover or speak. He didn’t say a word either. What was left to say? He pounced, and with a quick twist, broke Stefan’s neck. Luke didn’t have time to feel upset or satisfied, because as soon as he stood, he was tackled by a silver-and-white werewolf. “Whoa, whoa,” he said, laughing as she repeatedly licked his face. “I’m okay. I—” He coughed. She whined and snuffled his ear. All right, he sounded like he’d swallowed porcupine quills. His neck hurt, his chest and legs were on fire, but he’d live. He dug his fingers into thick, soft fur and ran his hands down her flanks, reassuring himself that she was real, before sitting up and pulling her into his lap.

Around them, the battle had ended, or at least was winding down. A few of the pack ran into the woods, chasing a pair of wolves. On the lakeshore, Vaughn slumped against a tree, holding a cloth to his neck. Isabelle wiggled. “Shh,” he told her. “I just needed to hold you for a sec.” Power danced over his skin, and a few seconds later, he held a very naked human female. He grinned at her. “That was fast. Gotten the hang of it, huh?” Wide amber eyes narrowed on him. “You could have died.” She slapped him on the shoulder. “You almost did die. You jerk! Don’t do that again.” Tears glistened on her lashes, so he didn’t offer a crisp salute. Instead, he stroked her cheek. “I’ll do my best, sugar.” “You’d better,” she sniffed. “Izzy!” Isabelle leapt up. “Mom!” At a dead run, Abby swept Isabelle into her arms and held her so tight, Luke was sure they’d both have bruises. He was also sure neither of them would complain. *** “Oh! Oh, my Izzy-girl.” Abby hugged Izzy so hard she could barely breathe. “Are you all right?” “I’m—I’m naked,” she said like an idiot. Of course she was naked. That’s what happened when you tear your clothes to pieces shape-shifting into a werewolf. Abby shoved the sleeve of her sweater up Izzy’s arm. “Here, turn—okay. There you go.” Izzy blinked stupidly at the cream-colored cotton that now hung down to her knees. How had Abby put that on her so fast?

Reading her face, Abby laughed. “I’ve wrangled plenty of recalcitrant children into clothes in my day.” Izzy stared at Abby. At her hair blown every which way by the wind and battle. At her brown skin, rendered black in the gathering dark. At her big brown eyes, wide with concern, not fear. At her mouth tipped up into a soft, welcoming smile. With a sob, Izzy threw herself at the mother of her heart and was rewarded with another fierce embrace. “Hush now,” Abby said, rubbing circles on her back. “It’s okay.” “B-but...if—” “Shh.” Angry voices shook Izzy out of her hysterics. A crowd had gathered on the deck and the ground below. In the glow of the exterior lights, Daphne stood backed against the wall of the house, surrounded by more than a dozen people and wolves. A few feet away, Luke watched, his face as still and hard as stone. When he looked at Izzy, it was the wolf looking back. “Go,” Abby whispered. Without hesitation, Izzy went to Luke and grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He took a sudden, shuddering breath and the golden glow faded from his eyes. Weariness settled on him like a lead coat. “I have to—” “It’s okay. I’ll go with you.” Together, with Abby on her other side, they walked across the torn-up yard. The copper penny scent of blood drifted on the wind. In the moonlight, they saw the horrifying aftermath of the battle. Several bodies, including the asshole grizzly who’d attacked her and Rissa in the basement, lay in the bloodstained snow.

As they passed Terry’s crumpled form, Izzy’s empty stomach flipped over as she got a look at the bloody ruin of his face. “Sweet Jesus,” Abby said before she pressed her face to Izzy’s shoulder. Luke grunted and dragged them on. “Guess Marianne kept her promise.” At the foot of the deck stairs, Dean waited for them. Blood-soaked and shredded, his clothes hung from him like tattered prayer flags. He looked like he needed a stretcher, but without a word, he climbed the stairs in front of Luke. The crowd parted to let them through. Slashes on her face, arms, and side, Daphne bared bloody teeth at them in a mockery of a smile. Lena, Marianne, Rissa, and four other females stood in front of her. Silent tears ran down Rissa’s face. Marianne sighed, sounding exhausted. She’d lost her shoes, and her curly hair looked like she’d stuck her finger into an electrical outlet. “Why, Daphne? Why did you do this? How could you hurt your baby sister?” Daphne shrugged one shoulder. “She was in the way.” She said it as if she’d knocked down a spider’s web—a housekeeping matter and nothing more. “Stefan was worried taking out Greg and Darren wouldn’t be enough.” She sneered at Luke. “Technically, Stefan was the gamma wolf, but he wanted some insurance in case Luke and Dean decided to grow up. Or Vaughn.” “That’s because he could never win in a fair fight against any of us,” Vaughn said, coming to stand with his Alpha. Daphne shrugged again, and Izzy growled at her. That nasty sound bubbling out of her own throat should have freaked her out, or at least it would have only yesterday. But now it felt right to give voice to her wolf’s fury. Luke squeezed her hand.

“So Maggie was killed to weaken Dean,” Marianne said. “Because your pathetic partners couldn’t take him on their own. That still doesn’t explain why you hurt Tara, your own sister.” “Because of us. She killed Tara to hurt us,” Rissa said, her voice a harsh rasp. “They knew Lena would be a mess when Greg died, and they wanted to take you and me out of the picture. We’re the next strongest females, and Liz doesn’t want to lead the pack.” “You got it all figured out,” Daphne said. “Do you know how easy it would have been for Rick and me to kill you after the crash? There you were, all weak and pathetic. Mooning over your human.” Growls echoed everywhere. “I want to know about the money,” Luke said over the din. “There’s no way Stefan and Terry came up with enough to fund a mining operation on their own. Not even if they were robbing the bank blind. Who else is part of Apex?” Now Daphne’s eyes flared wide and she trembled. Even Izzy could smell the pungent fear pouring off her. Daphne shook her head. “I—” There was a crack of rifle fire, and a neat, red hole appeared in her forehead. Her head snapped back, blood and worse spraying over the side of the house. Time slowed to a crawl as Daphne sank to the deck. Then it exploded into double time. Luke pushed Izzy down flat, and covered her and Abby with his body. More gunfire cracked near the water’s edge. Screams filled the air. Luke shouted commands and the deck vibrated from running feet. Izzy managed to pull her head out from under the bulk of Luke’s arm and catch sight of half a dozen pack members

running into the woods in pursuit of the killer. A minute later, except for the pounding of her heart and people panting in shock and fear, silence reigned. Luke stood, rage and grief contorting his features. Lifting his face to the heavens, he howled. The low, keening wail echoed off the mountains, sending birds into flight to blot the moon from the sky. *** Caine held the rifle close to his body as he ran through the forest. His heart pounded from simple exertion rather than fear. There wasn’t a shifter here who could offer him a decent challenge. Still, he almost slowed his steps just to give the pack a chance to catch up. It’d been a few weeks since he’d been able to really cut loose. But that wasn’t part of the plan. He reached his car and hopped in, taking a moment to lay the rifle on the floor and cover it with a blanket. He had no worries the local cops would scrounge up someone who saw him driving down the road. He’d stolen the car four days ago, north of the border, in Calgary, and switched the plates twice already. He’d ditch it before he reached Missoula, sticking yet another set of plates on it. When he was several miles away, he picked up his cell. He paused before hitting Send. No one liked delivering bad news. “Speak,” his employer said. “They failed.” Silence. “All the players are dead. I killed the last one who could have talked.” Silence. Again, Caine hesitated. Cold sweat forming on his skin,

he said, “They have the name Apex.”

Chapter Fifty-Four The next night, Izzy wandered around a strange bedroom on the second floor of the pack house. When Luke had asked her to wait for him here, she hadn’t asked why this room and not the one they’d slept in last night. It’d seemed important to him, so she decided to go with the flow. Maybe she should call the place a suite, because it took up most of the of the west wing. The peaked wood ceiling soared twenty feet overhead. Oversized chairs begged to be curled up in with a book. A cheery fire danced in the stone fireplace. There was enough closet space to thrill that Sex and the City chick, and a bathroom bigger than Izzy’s first apartment. She couldn’t decide which feature was the most jaw-dropping: the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the lake and the rugged beauty of the Cabinet Mountains or the fairy-tale bed. The bed had to have been custom-made. Like everything else in the room, it appeared to be built for giants. Crafted from a caramel-colored wood, the headboard didn’t simply rest against the wall, it grew out of and up the wall to spread over several feet of the ceiling like a great tree god. It was the most unique and gorgeous bedroom she’d ever seen. Yet it felt empty, as if no one had occupied it for ages. A set of French doors led onto a balcony. Izzy opened them and stepped out into the cold. It didn’t bother her as much as it used to. Guess that’s what eating right did for you. Moonlight silvered the lake and treetops and shone like a spotlight on the bare ground in the yard below. They’d had to shovel and scrape up the snow and dump it into the lake

to get rid of all the blood. It’d been a grim job. As her anger ignited all over again, the bedroom door opened. Luke walked in, closed it, and headed for her. His nostrils flared and he cocked a brow at her. Before she bitched at him for pulling the bloodhound routine, she checked herself. She wasn’t pissed at him. Yesterday, his whole world had fallen apart. He’d been betrayed in the worst way and lost friends. At the end of the fight, three of his loyal packmates lay dead in the snow, including Dev. She’d barely known the man, yet tears filled her eyes just thinking about him. How much worse must it be for Luke, who had known and admired the man his whole life? Plus, they hadn’t found the guy who’d shot Daphne, or discovered anything more about Apex. She was ready to punch some holes in walls. Luke must be beyond frustrated. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Luke took her hand and led her back into the bedroom, drawing her over to the fire. “For what?” “For what happened to you and your family. For being such a pain in the ass.” “None of that was your fault. Why were you so angry just now?” Throwing her hands up, she said, “I don’t understand that freaking woman.” “Who?” “Daphne. The ungrateful bitch. She had everything. Safety, security, a family who loved her. And what does she do? Kills her own sister.” She scowled at the fire. “I’d have done anything to save my sister.” “Isabelle.” He pulled her into his arms. “I was just so mad, you know. At Bess.” Tears ran down her face. “She left me. She killed herself and left me alone.” “You’re not alone,” he said fiercely.

“I know that now.” She rubbed her forehead against his chest. “In a weird way, Daphne did me a favor. I hadn’t realized how furious I was with my sister. But now I understand. I forgive her.” Luke stilled. “What?” she asked. “Cameron Beck, the Chicago Alpha, sent me an email. The man you saw when Bess—” She sucked in a sharp breath. God, did she even want to know? “Go on.” “Beck thinks they’ve figured out who it could be, but there’s a problem.” A bigger problem than a guy murdered by a werewolf in downtown Chicago? “What?” “There’s more than one possibility. A lot more.” “What?” Luke sighed. “Yeah. He has a lot to deal with. He wants to speak to you, see if you can narrow it down.” Well, shit. “I’ll do what I can.” It was the least she could do for the dead man, and for her sister. “Thought you’d say that. When you’re ready.” They stood before the fire, holding on to each other. Several minutes passed. Finally she asked, “Has everyone gone home?” The house had filled throughout the night and day, until it was bursting at the seams. Just as steadily, it emptied again as people were patched up and felt safe enough to return to their own places. Her parents—it felt so weird and awesome to call them that—had left after dinner to go back to Freddie’s. “Yeah.” He released her and walked to the wall of windows. “Marianne left just before I came up here. My mom went with her. She’s going to stay there for a while. Might look for a place closer to town.” “Doesn’t she live here?”

“This is the pack house,” he said, as if she didn’t know. “The Alpha is supposed to live here.” “But you don’t. Rissa said you refused to move in.” Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “After my dad died, it didn’t feel right. Everyone tried to get me to move, but...this was his place.” “And what? You didn’t feel like you belonged?” When he didn’t answer right away, she walked over to him. “Here? Or as the Alpha?” “Both, I guess,” he said. Her wolf snorted and Izzy said, “Well, that’s dumb.” Luke laughed and hugged her. He kissed the top of her head and pulled back to look at her. The laughter faded, and gold swirled in the liquid green depths of his eyes. “Did you know Alphas can sense their packs? Like tell where they are or when someone’s hurt.” “No.” “Well, they can. But I couldn’t,” he said. “When I became Alpha, my sense of everyone through the pack bonds became much stronger. But even so, I didn’t know where Vaughn was when he went missing and I didn’t know when Sam died.” He rubbed his chest like it hurt, but she didn’t think the problem was the numerous stitches he’d received. Taking his hand, she kissed it. Then she kissed the spot he’d been rubbing, right over his heart. “Sugar,” he breathed, caressing her cheek. She leaned into his touch, letting him take comfort from her presence. To know she could do that for him was a gift. When he spoke again, his eyes were clear of the darkness. “Until yesterday, I never felt what I should have. I never saw my pack in my mind’s eye, glowing with life. I never felt their purpose and strength. Until yesterday. Until you shifted into your wolf, threw open our mate bond, and called the

pack.” His smile was one she’d never seen on his face: full of light and happiness. “It’s like you blew away all my guilt and bullshit.” “That’s me: Hurricane Izzy.” “Yup. Never knew what hit me.” She punched him in the arm. Lightly. “Jerk.” He snagged her fist and kissed her knuckles, grinning unrepentantly. “So, your parents are staying for a while, huh?” “Yeah. They’re thinking of moving here.” “Makes sense,” Luke said. “So that’s why you wanted me to wait in here for you? You’re moving in and wanted me to give a thumbs-up on the room?” “Look,” he said, scrubbing both hands over his head. “I know we haven’t discussed what happens next. Not like we’ve really had time to talk about our daily lives at all, but —shit, I’m rambling. I guess what I’m trying to say is, now that the chaos is mostly over and—” “Are you asking me to move in with you?” He blew out a breath. “Yeah, I am. I want you to stay. I want you.” Heat bloomed in her chest. Pulling aside the collar of her shirt, she revealed the bite mark he’d made on her shoulder. Luke’s eyes flashed gold. She grazed the matemark with a finger and tingles raced over her skin, swirling and swirling. Damn. Breathless, she said, “I thought I’d already given you my answer.” Before she knew what happened, she lay on her back in the middle of the big bed, Luke perched above her. He looked at her like he’d never seen anyone more beautiful. “I love you, Isabelle.” God, how had she gotten this lucky? With trembling

hands, she cupped his face. “I never thought I could have anything like this, anyone like you. You’ve given me everything I ever wanted. A family. A place to belong in this world. Thank you.” Luke shook his head. “You deserve all that and more, my mate. But you already had a family and home. I just helped you see it.” She pulled him down, and just before his lips met hers, she whispered, “I love you.” His smile burned as bright and warm as the fire in the hearth. “Say it again.” “I love you, Luke.” As if they had all the time in the world, they explored each other’s mouths, nipping, licking, tasting. Luke pulled off her shirt, and as he bared her skin, he kissed each healing cut, bruise, and scrape with exquisite tenderness. He pressed a kiss to her chest, over her heart, and another to her matemark. “Mine,” he said. Clasping her hand, he kissed her fingers and touched them to the matching bite on his shoulder. Another kiss, and he laid her hand over his heart. “Yours,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. She kissed him hard, accepting his gift. Then, she looked into his flashing eyes and let him see everything she had, everything she felt, everything she was. “Forever,” she agreed.

***** Stay tuned for Vaughn’s story, Touch the Sky, coming soon from Kari Cole!

Acknowledgments No amount of words can ever express my unending gratitude to my magnificent and marvelous critique partners. Autumn Jones Lake, Cara Connelly, and Virginia Frost, you ladies rock hard. Thank you for helping make my dream a reality.

About the Author Kari Cole is an award-winning author of paranormal romances. Her action-packed stories have earned several awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart®, the Kiss of Death’s Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, and the Toronto Romance Writers’ Catherine. Kari lives in upstate New York with her college sweetheart, two way-too-smart-fortheir-own-good sons, and a ridiculous labradoodle named for the bravest of Star Wars heroes, Artoo. You can find her online at: www.KariColeAuthor.com www.Facebook.com/KariColeAuthor www.Twitter.com/KariColeAuthor

Coming soon from Kari Cole and Carina Press Touch the Sky Stalk the Shadows

Introducing the Carina Press Romance Promise! The Carina Press team all have one thing in common: we are romance readers with a longtime love of the genre. And we know what readers are looking for in a romance: a guarantee of a happily-ever-after (HEA) or happy-for-now (HFN). With that in mind, we’re initiating the Carina Press Romance Promise. When you see a book tagged with these words in our cover copy/book description, we’re making you, the reader, a very important promise: This book contains a romance central to the plot and ends in an HEA or HFN. Simple, right? But so important, we know! Look for the Carina Press Romance Promise and one-click with confidence that we understand what’s at the heart of the romance genre! Look for this line in Carina Press book descriptions: One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise! Find out more at CarinaPress.com/RomancePromise. Find out more at CarinaPress.com.

Don’t miss Rhenna Morgan’s brand-new paranormal romance series, Ancient Ink. GUARDIAN’S BOND Priest Rahandras has lived with the darkness trapped inside himself for years. Betrayed by his own brother and forced to watch his clan’s brutal annihilation, the only thing Priest wants more than to escape the curse that haunts him—as both man and beast—is to rebuild. Until the mate he’s longed for walks into his life. She’s everything he’s wished for, and the key to the clan’s very survival. Order your copy now! Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers and much more! Visit CarinaPress.com Other ways to keep in touch: Facebook.com/CarinaPress Twitter.com/CarinaPress CarinaPress.com/newsletter

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ISBN-13: 9781488099502 Hunt the Moon Copyright © 2018 by Kari Cole All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada. All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property

Office and in other countries. www.CarinaPress.com
Hunt the Moon - Kari Cole

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