Hidden Talents
Date: 2011-06-25 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Romance; Paranormal Romance; Erotica; Fantasy; Shapeshifters; M F Romance; Contemporary; Magic; Erotic Romance
Description: Werewolf cop Adam Santini is sworn to protect and serve all the supes in Resurrection, NY - including unsuspecting human Talents who wander in from Outside. Telekinetic Ari is hot on the trail of a mysterious crime boss who wants to exploit her gift for his own evil ends, a mission that puts her on a collision course with the hottest cop in the RPD. Adam wants Blackwater too, but mostly he wants Ari. She seems to be the mate he’s been yearning for all his life, though getting a former street kid into bed with the Law could be his toughest case to date.“Fans of bolder romance will relish [Emma

Hidden Series 1-3

Emma Holly

Digital Edition

Copyright 2012 Emma Holly. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission of the author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This story is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. It includes sexually explicit content that is only appropriate for adults—and not every adult at that. Those who are offended by more adventurous depictions of sexuality or frank language possibly shouldn’t read it. Literary license has been taken in this book. It is not intended to be a sexual manual. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons living or dead is either fictitious or coincidental. That said, the author hopes you enjoy this tale!

Hidden Talents is an approximately 72,000-word novel. Hidden Depths is an approximately 88,000-word novel. Hidden Crimes is an approximately 83,000-word novel.

Discover other exciting Emma Holly titles at: http://www.emmaholly.com
cover photo: www.bigstockphoto.com / MSPhotographic, korionov
eISBN: 978-0-9849162-9-0

Table of Contents

Title Page

Other Indie Titles by Emma Holly

Hidden Talents . . .

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

Six Months Later

Hidden Depths . . .

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

Epilogue

Hidden Crimes . . .

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

About the Author

Other Indie Titles by Emma Holly

The Prince With No Heart

The Assassins’ Lover

Steaming Up Your Love Scenes (how-to)

The Billionaire Bad Boys Club

Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian

~

HIDDEN SERIES

Hidden Talents

Hidden Depths

Date Night

Move Me

The Faerie’s Honeymoon

Hidden Crimes

Winter’s Tale

Hidden Dragons

Hidden Passions

Hidden Talents . . .

WEREWOLF cop Adam Santini is sworn to protect and serve all the supes in Resurrection, NY—including unsuspecting human Talents who wander in from Outside.

Telekinetic Ari is hot on the trail of a mysterious crime boss who wants to exploit her gift for his own evil ends, a mission that puts her on a collision course with the hottest cop in the RPD. Adam wants Blackwater too, but mostly he wants Ari. She seems to be the mate he’s been yearning for all his life, though getting a former street kid into bed with the Law could be his toughest case to date.

“Hidden Talents is the perfect package of supes, romance, mystery and HEA!” —paperbackdolls.com
available in ebook and print

Chapter One

DUSK settled over the city of Resurrection like a blanket of bad news.

That’s me, Ari thought, flexing her right fist beside her hip. Bad news with a capital B.

This wasn’t just whistling in the dark. Ari had been bad news to some people in her life. To her parents. To every teacher she’d had in high school. You’ll come to no good, they’d threatened, and she couldn’t swear they’d been wrong. Certainly, she hadn’t turned out to be a blessing to Maxwell or Sarah. Because of her, Max was in the hospital with too many broken bones in his arms to count, and Sarah was God knew where. But at least Ari was trying to change that. At least she was trying to be bad news to people who deserved it.

To her dismay, Resurrection, NY wasn’t what she’d been led to believe when she’d looked it up on the internet.

She stood on the crest of a weedy hill outside the metropolis, her presence hidden by the deeper shadow of a highway overpass. She’d been expecting a down-on-its-luck backwater. Storefronts stuck in the seventies. Maybe a real town square and a civil war battlefield. Instead, she found an actual cityscape. The skyline wasn’t Manhattan tall, more like Kansas City. Few buildings looked brand new, but many were substantial. They formed a grid of streets and parkland whose core had to encompass at least five miles. This was definitely more than a backwater. Resurrection reminded her of city photos from the early decades of the last century, when skyscraper meant something exciting. What could have been a twin to the Chrysler Building stuck up from the center of downtown, reigning over its brethren.

Finding the Eunuch among all that was going to take some doing.

You have to find him, she told her sinking stomach. If she didn’t, she and her very small gang of peeps would be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives. At twenty-six and thankfully still counting, Ari had endured more than enough hiding. She was stronger now. She’d been practicing. Henry Blackwater, aka, the Eunuch, wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Right,” she said sarcastically to herself. She’d be lucky if she got out of here alive.

But faint heart never vanquished fair villain. Ari knew she’d been born the way she was for a reason. Maybe here, maybe soon, she’d find out what that reason was.

Chapter Two

NO one messed with people who belonged to Adam Santini. Unless, of course, the person messing with the person was also Adam’s relative.

“You. Ate. My. Beignets.” To emphasize his point, Adam’s irate cousin, Tony Lupone, was bashing his brother’s head against the squad room floor.

Since Rick’s skull was made of sterner stuff than the linoleum, he laughed between winces. “What sort of cop—ow—eats beignets anyway?”

“Your faggot brother cop, that’s who. Your pink-shirted faggot brother cop who’s whupping your butt right now.”

Amused by their exchange, Adam leaned back against Tony’s cluttered desk. The precinct’s squad room was a semi-bunker in the basement. A mix of ancient file cabinets and desks were balanced by some very revved-up technology. Grimy electrum grates on the windows protected them, more or less, from things that went bump in the night outside. The hodgepodge suited the men who manned it better than most workplaces could. Rough-edged but smart was the werewolf way. At the moment, Tony was so rough-edged his eyes glowed amber in his flushed face. His big brother could have defended himself better than he was, if it weren’t for his rule against hitting his siblings.

“Ow! Lou!” he complained to Adam. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Aren’t you going to call off this squirt?”

“You’re the one who ate his fancy donuts.”

“All dozen of them!” Tony snarled, his grievance renewed. “I brought them in to share.”

“Shit,” said longhaired Nate Rivera, Adam’s other cousin, once removed. “Now I want to whup you.”

Considering even-tempered Nate was growling, Adam judged it time to end the wrestling match. “All right, you two. Enough. Rick, I’m docking your next paycheck for the price of his beignets. Dana, if you’d be so kind, raid the coffee fund and pick up another batch for tomorrow night.”

“None of which you’re going to enjoy, Mister Pig!” Panting from the exertion of trying to give his brother a concussion, Tony rose and pointed angrily down at him. “You can choke on your damned donuts.”

Wisely, Rick remained where he was while his little brother stalked back to the break room, where his heinous crime had been discovered. The dress code for the detectives was casual. Rick’s gray RPD T-shirt was rucked way up his six-pack abs. His concave stomach didn’t betray his gluttony. His fast werewolf metabolism saw to that.

“My head,” Rick moaned, still laughing. “Come on, cuz. Give your beta a hand up.”

Adam sighed and obliged. None of his wolves were small, but Rick was six four and all muscle. Even with supe strength, Adam grunted to haul him up. “Some second you are. You had to know this would cause trouble.”

“I couldn’t help myself. The box smelled so good. Plus, he was totally obnoxious about bringing them in for everyone.”

“So you knew you were stealing food from my mouth?” Nate interjected, not looking up from his paperwork. “Not cool.”

“He’s sucking up. Ever since he came out, he’s been—” Rick snapped his muzzle shut, but it was too late.

“Uh-huh,” Nate said in his dry laid-back way. He’d spun around in his squeaky rolling chair to face Rick. “Ever since he came out, your brother stopped being a butch-ass prick. In fact, ever since he came out, he’s been the nicest wolf around here. You don’t like that ’cause you’re used to being everyone’s favorite.”

“Crap.” The way Rick rubbed the back of his neck said he knew he was in the wrong. Being Rick, he couldn’t stay dejected long. A grin flashed across his handsome olive-skinned face. “Can’t I still be everyone’s favorite? Do I have to turn gay too?”

“I don’t know,” Nate said, returning to his work. “So far only gay boys bring us good breakfasts.”

Seeing Rick’s private wince, Adam patted his back and rubbed. Touchy-feely creatures that werewolves were, the contact calmed both of them. He knew Rick was still working on accepting his little brother’s big announcement. Werewolves were some of the most macho supes in Resurrection, a city that had plenty to choose from. Adam knew Rick loved his brother just as much as before. He suspected Rick was mostly worried Tony would end up hurt. Being responsible for policing America’s only supernatural-friendly town made the wolves enough of a target. Turning out to be gay on top of that was as good as taping a target onto your back.

“Tony will be all right,” Adam assured his friend. “Everyone here is adjusting to the new him.”

Rick rubbed his neck once more and let his hand drop. Worry pinched his dark gold eyes when they met Adam’s. “They’re pack. They have to love him.”

Adam didn’t believe this but wasn’t in the mood to argue. Plenty of folks endowed being pack with mystical benefits. Some were real of course, but as alpha, Adam wasn’t comfortable relying on magic to cement his authority. He thought it best to actually be a competent leader.

“Boss,” Dana their dispatcher said. The young woman had her own corner of the squad room. Apart from its cubby walls, it was open. Banks of sleek computers surrounded her, each one monitoring different sectors of the city. The sole member of the squad who wasn’t a relative, Dana was the most superstitious wolf Adam had ever met. Anti-hex graffiti scrawled across her work surfaces, the warding so thick he couldn’t tell one symbol from another. How they worked like that was beyond him. Despite the quirk, Adam took her instincts seriously. Right then, she didn’t look happy. Her silver dreamcatcher earrings were trembling.

“Boss, we’ve got a suspected M without L in the abandoned tire store on Twenty-Fourth.”

M without L referred to the use of magic without a license. Adam’s hackles rose. Jesus, he hated those. “Who’s reporting the incident?”

“Gargoyle on the Hampton House Hotel.” She touched her headset and listened. “He says it’s a Level Four.”

Adrenaline surged inside him, making his palms tingle. Gargoyles were rarely wrong about magical infractions. While the strength levels went up to eight, four was nothing to sneeze at. Thumb and finger to his mouth, Adam blew a piercing whistle to get his men’s attention.

“Suit up,” he said. “We’ve got a probable ML on Twenty-Fourth.”

“Don’t forget your earpieces,” Dana added. “I’ll help coordinate from here.”

Adam’s men were already loping to the weapons room. “Load for bear,” he said as he followed them. “We don’t know what we’re in for.”

~

Resurrection, New York couldn’t have existed without the fae. For nearly two hundred years, it had sat on an outfolded pocket of the fae’s other-dimensional homeland, in the human world but only visible to a special few.

Those who wandered in from Outside found it less alien than might be expected. The founding faeries had used the Manhattan of the 1800s as their architectural crib sheet. Since then, the bigger apple had continued to provide inspiration. Immigrants especially liked to recreate pieces of their native land. Resurrection had its own Fifth Avenue and Macy’s, its own subway and museums. Little Italy still flourished here, though—sadly—its theater district was as moribund as its role model. Adam was familiar with the theories that Resurrection was an experiment, created to see if human and fae could live peaceably as in days of old. Whether this was the reason for its existence, he couldn’t say.

The only fae he knew were exceptionally tight-lipped.

Whatever their motives, Resurrection had become a haven for humans with a trait or two extra. Shapechangers of every ilk thrived here. Vamps were tolerated as long as they behaved themselves. The same was true of demons and other Dims: visitors from alternate dimensions who entered through the portals. If a being could get along, it could stay. If it couldn’t, it had to go. And if the visitors didn’t want to go, Adam and the rest of the RPD were just the folks to make sure they went anyway.

The job fit Adam better than his combat boots, and those boots fit him pretty good. He loved keeping order, protecting the vulnerable, kicking butt and cracking skulls as required. The only duty he didn’t like was apprehending rogue Talents. Sorcerers were trained at least, and demons who went dark side were generally predictable. Talents were the wild cards in an already dangerous deck. Their power was raw, depending not on spells but on how much energy they could channel. That amount could be a trickle or a mother-effing hell of a lot.

The previous year, a Level Seven Talent who’d gotten stoned on faerie-laced angel dust had taken down the six-lane Washington Street Bridge. Just popped it off its piers and let it drop in the North River. If the bridge’s gargoyles hadn’t swooped in to save what cars they could, the loss of life would have been astronomical. Adam still had nightmares about talking the tripping Talent into surrendering. If tonight’s incident ran along similar lines, he might need a vacation.

Along with the rest of his team, Adam clutched the leather sway-strap above his head. Nate was driving the black response van because no one else dared claim the wheel from the ponytailed Latino. They all wore body armor and helmets, plus an assortment of protective charms. Their rifles leaned against the long side benches between their knees. The guns could fire a range of ammo, both conventional and spelled. Rick, who had a knack for effective prayer, was quietly calling on the precinct’s personal guardian angel. Sometimes this worked and sometimes it didn’t, but even the atheists among them figured better safe than sorry.

“God,” Tony said, tapping the back of his head against the van’s rattling wall. “I hope this isn’t another thing like the bridge.”

“Amen,” Carmine agreed. The stocky were was the oldest member of their squad, the only one who was married, and—yes—another of Adam’s cousins.

Before he could smile, Adam’s earpiece beeped.

“You’re four blocks out,” Dana said. “The gargoyle is reporting another series of power flares. Still nothing higher than a Four.”

That was good news. Unless, of course, the Talent was warming up.

“Okay, people,” Adam said. “Watch your tempers once we get inside. Be safe but no killing unless you have no choice.”

He didn’t warn them against hesitating. Given their inbred hair-trigger werewolf nature, hesitating wasn’t an issue.

~

The defunct tire store sat on a small parking lot between a very well locked print shop and a transient hotel. Apart from the hotel, which wasn’t exactly bustling, the area wasn’t residential. A cheap liquor outlet on the corner drew a few customers, but the main business done here after dark was drugs. Most of the product filtered in from the human world. Since this was Resurrection, some was also exotic. If you knew who to ask, you could score adulterated vamp blood or coke cut with faerie dust. Demon manufactured Get-Hard was popular, though it tended to cause more harmful side effects than Viagra. Every EMT Adam knew had asked why they couldn’t get GH off the street. All Adam could answer was that they were doing the best they could.

Policing Resurrection couldn’t be about stamping out Evil. It had to be about making sure Good didn’t get swallowed.

The reminder braced him as he and his team ran soundlessly from the van onto the buckled and trash-strewn asphalt of the parking lot. His scalp prickled half a second before a soft gold light flared around the edges of the boarded-up back windows.

Adam had answered previous calls to this location. The rear section of the tire store was where vehicles had been cranked up on lifts for servicing. Fortunately, there was plenty of cover for slipping in. Unfortunately, lots of flammables were inside. Adam took the anti-burn charm that hung around his neck and whispered a word to it. That precaution seen to, he hand-signaled Rick and Tony to split off and block escape from the front exit.

This left Adam, Carmine and Nate to ghost in the back.

The flimsy combination lock on the door to the service bay had been snapped—probably magically. Adam and his two detectives ducked under the low opening. Inside, the scent and feel of magic was much stronger, the air thicker and hotter than it should have been in autumn. A male voice moaned in pain farther in, standing Adam’s hair on end. Without needing to be told, Nate peeled off to the right. Adam and Carmine took the left.

Scattered heaps of tires allowed them to creep up on their goal without being seen. One bare bulb dangled from a wire, lighting the far end of the garage. In the dim circle beneath it, the Talent had her moaning victim tied to a plastic chair. The sight of her stopped Adam in his tracks. Christ, she was little. Five foot nothing and probably a hundred and small change. She looked to be in her twenties and wore the kind of clothes street kids did. Ripped up black jeans. Ancient T-shirts that didn’t fit. Her oversized Yankees jacket had its sleeves torn out and was decorated with unidentifiable small objects. Her hair was a shade of platinum not found in nature, standing in white spikes around her head. A swirling red pattern was dyed it, as if her coiffure were her personal art project. What really got him though, what had his breath catching in his throat, was the clean-cut innocence of her face. Outfit and hair aside, she looked like a tiny Iowa farm girl.

It made his chest hurt to look at her. The part of him that needed to protect others wanted to protect her.

Knowing better than to trust in appearances, Adam shook the inclination off. He tapped the speaker fixed into his vest with the signal for everyone to hold. The victim was still alive. They could afford to take a minute to discover what they were up against.

As they watched, the girl lifted her right hand. Pale blue fire outlined her curled fingers. Her already bloodied victim shrank back within his ropes. He was some kind of elf-human mixblood with long gray hair. He was a lot bigger than the Talent, but that didn’t mean their fight had been fair. Despite the elf blood, he didn’t give off much of a magic vibe. A near null was Adam’s guess. His run-in with the Talent had left damage. He looked bad: eyes swollen, bruises, shallow cuts bleeding all over. Though he seemed familiar, as injured as he was, he was hard to identify. Even his smell was distorted by blood and fear.

“I can do this all night,” the Talent said in a voice that was way too sweet for a torturer. “Or you can tell me where to find the Eunuch.”

Carmine and Adam came alert at that. This was a name they knew too damn well.

“Lady,” said her bloodied victim. “I have no idea who you mean.”

The girl closed her glowing hand gently. The man she was interrogating arched so violently he and the plastic chair fell over. He screamed as blood sprayed from a brand new cut on his chest. Carmine started forward, but Adam gripped his shoulder.

“Wait,” he murmured. “That cut was shallow. He’s not in immediate danger.”

Carmine shook his head but obeyed. When the man stopped writhing, the girl drew a deep slow breath. With no more effort than gesturing upward with one finger, she set man and chair upright. Despite the situation’s danger, something inside Adam let out an admiring whoa.

“Clearly,” she said, “you think you ought to be more afraid of your boss than me.”

“Lady,” panted the injured man, “everyone’s more afraid of him.”

The girl’s lips curved in a smile that had Carmine shivering beside him. Admittedly, the expression was a little scary. For no good reason Adam could think of, it made his cock twitch in his jockstrap.

The Talent spoke silkily. “I’m glad we’ve established you know who I’m looking for.”

Adam expected her to cut him again. Instead, discovering her victim did know the Eunuch inspired her to up the ante on her torture. The blue fire she’d called to her hand now began gleaming around her feet. She was drawing energy from the earth—and no piddling amount either. Her glowing hand contracted into a fist, and her victim’s face went chalky. Adam was pretty sure she was telekinetically squeezing his beating heart. Unless she was really good at medical manipulation, she was going to kill him.

“Go,” he said sharply into his vest microphone.

Even in human form, werewolves weren’t slowpokes. What went down next was textbook perfect. Adam and his men were on the Talent so fast she didn’t have a chance to shift her attack to them. Nate got her nose squashed down on the oil-stained floor, then snapped electrum plated cuffs snug around her wrists. The cuffs were charmed so she couldn’t break them, no matter how powerful she was. The Talent struggled, then cried out as Nate yanked her roughly onto her feet.

He dropped a depowering charm around her neck for good measure. Immediately, the energy-charged air settled back to normal. The girl gaped at the enchanted medal, then straight up at Adam. Adam’s heart stuttered in his chest. Her eyes were a breathtaking corn-fed blue, her lashes a thick dark brown. The twitch she’d sent through his cock morphed into a throb. Carmine shot him a look of surprise. Adam fought an embarrassed flush. The smell of his arousal must have gotten strong enough to seep through his clothes.

“’bout time you showed up,” the girl’s victim huffed. “This bitch needs to be locked up.”

Carmine flipped up his face shield and turned to consider him. The man flinched back, obviously wishing he’d refrained from complaining.

“Aren’t you Donnie West?” Carmine asked. “’Cause I know we’ve got a handful of outstandings on your drug dealing ass.”

“Uh,” said Donnie, abruptly recognizable under his bruises.

“That’s what I thought,” said Carmine, and let out his belly laugh.

Through all of this, the Talent’s eyes moved from one of them to the other, taking in their gear and their guns and getting wider by the second. When Rick and Tony caught up to them from the front, Tony’s upper canines had run out and his amber eyes were glowing. The girl sucked in a breath like this shocked her, though a partial change when younger wolves got excited wasn’t uncommon.

“What the—” she said before having to swallow. “What the hell kind of cops are you?”

Still holding her from behind, Nate’s slash of a mouth slanted up in a devilish grin. “Well, what do you know,” he drawled. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves an Accidental Tourist.”

Chapter Three

NOTHING Ari had encountered since arriving in Resurrection had been normal. First, the air smelled funny, like a light flowery perfume, even near the sewer grates. It felt funny too, as if Ari had thrown back one too many shots of espresso. The hair on her arms was prickling and the sidewalks—despite having the usual cracks and stains—were strangely buzzy underfoot. She caught herself tiptoeing and had to force herself to stop.

No one stared at her, luckily. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention.

She’d managed to find Resurrection’s Chinatown, the general location of which the MapQuest maps hadn’t lied about. Though the Eunuch wasn’t Asian, he was addicted to Chinese food. If he wasn’t holding court over a plate of Peking duck somewhere, his goons were getting him take-out. Ari figured if she lurked here long enough, she’d have a chance to spot one.

What she spotted instead was seriously weird. Lots of Chinese restaurants in Manhattan hung ducks in their windows. It was an assurance that they roasted good birds in there. What hung in these windows weren’t birds. To be absolutely truthful, they looked like miniature skinned people.

At first, she’d thought the streetlights must have confused her eyes, but the creepy things were displayed everywhere. One restaurant had taped an English translation to the glass under the bold swish of its Chinese sign.

Gnomes, it declared. Freshly caught.

Surely, this was the locals’ idea of an inside joke.

Ari had shuddered and tried to avoid looking . . . which was when she noticed the placard inside the entrance doors: No Flaring Beyond This Threshold.

What did that even mean? Were people trying to do gymnastics on the tables?

She just could not figure this place out. Deciding to take a break and get her bearings, she left the five-block stretch of Chinatown to slip as unobtrusively as she could into a packed coffee house. From experience, she knew crowded places were good for hiding in. The one that said Free Hot Spot compensated for this one’s No Flaring sign. Sadly, Ari’s tablet didn’t work when she pulled it out, though the other customers’ seemed to.

They were a motley bunch. Young. Middle aged. A lot of older guys with long hair. She found a spot the next table over from two high school girls in prissy plaid uniforms. They were chattering a mile a minute in a language she couldn’t for the life of her recognize. They were also texting at the same time—normal enough, she guessed, given what she’d observed of her more popular peers when she was their age. What wasn’t normal was that beneath their long shiny hair, their ears were pointy.

O-kay, she thought. Interesting fashion trends around here.

“Coffee?” inquired a kind looking older waitress who’d snuck up on her from nowhere.

“What?” Ari asked, taken by surprise.

The woman gestured with a well-seasoned stovetop espresso pot. “You have to order if you want to use the hot spot.”

“The hot spot doesn’t work for me,” Ari said, though no doubt she still had to buy something.

“It should work,” said the waitress. “Our magician refreshed it just this morning.”

Ari blinked. Maybe this was their pet name for their IT expert. She was trying to come up with a sensible response when she spotted one of the Eunuch’s occasional go-to guys on his way out the door. Even in this crowd, his long shining gray hair stood out.

“Excuse me,” she said, sliding out from her seat. “I see someone I need to say hello to.”

Once outside, she followed Donnie West until he stepped into an alley to light one of his sickening clove cigarettes. Oddly enough, it smelled like nirvana here. It must have tasted like nirvana too. He took a drag so deep he might have been trying to pull it into his toes.

With his eyes closed in bliss, he wasn’t hard to sneak up on.

“Hey,” she said, judging a brash approach was best. “Got one of those for me?”

“Shit.” He jerked straight with shock, his cigarette falling to the ground. “Don’t you know better than to take people by surprise?”

She suspected he recognized her. They’d never spoken or been this close before, but she’d seen him talking to the Eunuch lots of times from across a room. In addition to which, she wasn’t easy to forget, what with her hair and her special gift. She sighed at the realization that he wouldn’t even admit that much.

She’d need more than a bluff to get what she needed out of him.

She only meant to give him a telekinetic nudge, to remind him she was a scary chick whose questions ought to be answered. Somehow, the energy that rushed into her when she pulled was a heck of a lot more than she was used to. The power swooshed out of her into him, slamming him into the brick wall and nearly coshing him senseless.

Whoa, Ari thought, even as she tried to pretend she’d meant to do exactly that. Talk about chugging too much caffeine. Her heart pounded like an old-fashioned locomotive behind her ribs.

“Shit,” Donnie cursed, on his knees with one hand checking for bumps behind his head. “You can’t be here like this.”

“Obviously I can. And you are going to tell me where I can find your boss.”

“You’re crazy,” Donnie said. “Plus, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a boss. I’m an independent entrepreneur.”

Like a Yugo driver who was suddenly behind the wheel of a Porsche, Ari used the lightest touch she could to open a cut across his forehead.

Never the bravest soul, Donnie tried to crawl away. She stopped him by floating his still lit cigarette an inch away from his eye. How easy this was shocked her.

“I might be crazy,” she said, her voice gone a bit breathless. “Why don’t we go somewhere quiet to discuss it?”

She’d spotted the empty tire shop on her way in, filing it away as somewhere she might crash without depleting her cash supply. The garage bay seemed the ideal spot for questioning Donnie—at least until the SWAT team or whatever they were showed up.

Having her face shoved into cement while being handcuffed was no party, no more than her power being shut off without warning. She didn’t like her glimpse of the latecomer’s teeth or the others’ weird big-ass guns. The rifles looked like weapons from the Alien movies, just too many parts for comfort. That two of the cops still had them trained on her didn’t ease her nerves. What really pissed her off, though, was that they’d interrupted just as she was getting somewhere. Given how little she’d enjoyed torturing Donnie, she didn’t think it should go to waste.

The hot Latino guy said something cryptic about accidental tourists, which she didn’t try to understand.

“I want a lawyer,” she said, though she really didn’t. Lawyers were as bad as cops—and how would she explain what she’d been doing? She’d learned young that she couldn’t afford to let people see her doing her thing.

Which brought up another squirmy point. None of the members of this SWAT team seemed surprised by she’d done.

The other hot guy— Okay, be honest, the really, really hot guy with the incredibly soft green eyes and the mouth built for wickedness, put up his gun and stepped closer. Ari shouldn’t have been surprised that her body went haywire. She’d been pulling more juice than she ever had in her life, and that was bound to create fallout. Still, it didn’t feel appropriate that her pussy melted like hot candy at his approach. His green eyes darkened, tiny sparks seeming to glow in the irises. He wet his fallen angel lips as if they’d gone dry. Ari could have sworn this made her dizzy.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a voice as rich and deep as French roast. “You’re not entitled to a lawyer. Public defenders are only for citizens.”

“I’m a citizen,” she retorted, trying to stiffen up her spine while he was staring at her that way. God, he smelled good. Like spice and man and how the hell did he find shirts to fit shoulders that fucking broad? She cleared her throat, sorry she’d thought the word for what she wanted to do to him. “I was born in Kansas.”

It had been Iowa, but to a New Yorker—as his accent proclaimed him—what was the difference?

Really Hot Cop smiled at her.

Logically, his smile couldn’t have been what pushed her over the edge, but her circuitry did choose that precise moment to blow its fuse. The warning tremor ran up her right arm, giving her a second to gasp before she dropped to the floor convulsing.

Or almost dropped. Really Hot Cop and Handsome Latino Guy caught her as she fell, saving her from splitting her skull. This was the only luck she had. The coppery taste of blood told her she’d bitten her tongue.

“Get a bite stick,” Really Hot Cop barked out.

She was making the grunting noises she did when she had a fit, though why she bothered being embarrassed she didn’t know. Really Hot Cop stroked her cheek like he didn’t mind.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice the most soothing she’d ever heard, the kind any girl would wanted crooning her to sleep after sex. “You’re okay, sweetheart. This will pass. You just channeled too much power.”

Ari would have gaped if her facial muscles hadn’t been clenching. He’d called her sweetheart. Even though he’d watched her nearly kill a man, even though he seemed to know about her freaky gift. The cop who’d sported the long incisors—thankfully normal now—helped Hot Cop wedge a bite stick gently between her teeth. Though she knew it would help, Ari hated being vulnerable. For some reason, she hated it ten times as much right now. She wasn’t weak, not anymore. She was a survivor.

Survivor or not, tears started trickling out from her eyes. Sometimes they came when she overloaded and sometimes they didn’t, but tonight they wouldn’t stop.

“Shh,” Really Hot Cop said, pulling her to his chest. His hold was strong enough to keep her from flailing. “You’re all right, honey. I’ve got you safe with me.”

~

Adam cradled the girl in his lap in the back of the response van. Her muscle spasms had lasted about five minutes, after which she’d conked out in exhaustion. Adam had seen worse magical ODs—fatal ones even. He just hadn’t seen any that hit him quite so hard.

He couldn’t seem to let go of her. He was strapped in the safety harness on the long side bench but he felt off balance, his usually solid-as-a-rock inner gyroscope suddenly wobbling. He had an erection, for Pete’s sake, the thing seriously straining the elastic of his black jock strap.

He tried to distract himself by examining the collection of miscellany she’d pinned or otherwise adhered to her sleeveless Yankees jacket. The portion he could see included what was probably other peoples’ lost buttons, a small white feather, two miniature silver spoons of the sort espresso drinkers stirred sugar with, six pennies, one euro, a subway token, and a laminated ticket stub from a band he’d never heard of. Thanks to his grandmother, Adam had a touch of Sight. When he fingered the stub, his brain caught a flash of the girl he held standing in a crowd, so excited as music bombarded her that she squeezed the hands of the people to either side of her. The joy in her astounded him, the love she felt for her companions . . .

He shifted his eyes, trying to See the memory clearer, but letting even a little more of his barriers down sent a fresh wave of lust up his erection. He squirmed in his seat and winced, a muffled grunt breaking in his throat. It occurred to him that this reaction wasn’t professional.

From the looks his packmates were sliding him, they thought he was off his rocker.

“So,” Nate threw over his shoulder from his spot up front at the wheel. “Tell me again why we aren’t taking this perp straight to headquarters.”

“She crossed the city border,” Rick said from the opposite bench. “Without an invitation. If we take her to HQ, we’ll have to hand her over to Magical Mentoring.”

Magical Mentoring’s reputation was about as good as the outside world’s foster care system. It meant well, but too often it simply screwed people up.

Adam’s arms tightened protectively around his burden.

“Well, I’m no fan,” Nate admitted, “but this chica nearly killed a man. She needs some kind of training. I mean, she was one determined girly, slicing Donnie West up like that.”

“She was trying to find the Eunuch,” Carmine explained patiently. “We need to question her. See if she knows more about that slippery bastard than we do.”

“I get that,” Nate said, “but—”

Adam’s anger rolled out of him as a growl. Without meaning to, he’d put his alpha power behind it, pushing at the others’ natural inclination to submit to his will. He did this so seldom the other men’s eyes widened.

Up front, Nate swerved the van slightly in the lane before pulling himself together. “All right then. End of discussion.”

Because Rick was his second and a power in his own right, he held Adam’s eyes longer than the others. “You okay, cuz?”

“He’s getting around that age,” Carmine said helpfully. “Baby hunger hits some males hard.”

“I am not that age,” Adam snapped, maybe more sharply than he should have if he wanted to be believed. “I’m only thirty-nine. And anyway, that one true mate crap is bullshit.”

“How can you think it’s bullshit?” Nate asked from up front. “Weren’t your parents twin flames?”

They had been, he guessed, but that didn’t mean Adam had to believe in that hearts and flowers stuff for him. His parents had been really sweet, kind of eccentric people. Adam was down to earth. Falling in love as hard as they’d fallen just wasn’t practical.

“She is kind of hot,” Tony observed thoughtfully. He frowned as the others’ eyes cut to him. “What? Just because I’m gay, I can’t have an opinion?”

“It’s pheromones.” Carmine’s gaze remained averted, but his subtle smile said he was enjoying ragging on his boss. “There’s only so hard you can fight when they kick in.”

“He’s just being protective,” Rick said firmly. “Adam’s alpha. If anything’s kicking in, it’s those instincts.”

Rick sounded suspiciously like he was trying to convince himself.

Adam sighed, realizing he’d cupped the back of the girl’s head, coaxing her cheek to rest more securely on his shoulder. Her spiky platinum hair was surprisingly soft between his fingers. He couldn’t deny she smelled incredible to him, which was supposed to be a sign that you’d found a mate. A mate, though. Not your sparkly-warkly gift from the universe. Biology he believed in. Romantic mumbo-jumbo not so much. Whatever this girl was to him, the scent of her perspiration was making him break into a sweat. His canines itched in their sockets, threatening to run out each time he caught a whiff.

An image of her naked on her hands and knees popped into his mind. Him pumping into her from behind, sinking his canines into her nape and gripping to hold her still. The fantasy was vivid enough to make his cock start leaking. She was so damned little. He hadn’t known he liked little women. He’d never gone for them before. Now he couldn’t think of anything but finding out how much foreplay it would take to squeeze his throbbing dick inside her.

A lot would be fine with him. He’d be delighted to lick her all over. To grab that spiky hair in both hands and attach himself to her breasts. To nuzzle into her cunt and lap up her juice. She’d probably taste as good as she smelled. Her body felt tight in her thrift store clothes. Little breasts. Little waist. He bet her round little butt was as firm as a new apple . . .

His eyes went hot. He closed them half a second before his men would have seen them glow. His body shuddered as he tried to get it under control. He hadn’t known an erection could hurt this bad.

If he wasn’t careful, he was going to make a genuine ass of himself.

“Almost there,” Nate said, turning onto Saltpeter Street.

Saltpeter was their neighborhood’s main drag, where the businesses clustered. All of them lived off it on Alchemist’s Way, within a stone’s throw of each other in the four-story brick rowhouses that dated back to the 1910s. The streets were shady, the shopkeepers knew their names, and the instinctive comfort of having pack close by was something none of them had ever rebelled against.

They might not have the privacy other folks enjoyed, but they sure as hell had each other’s backs.

Rick, Tony, and Adam all lived in the same building, with Adam taking the two top floors. They shared the roof deck, from which they could wave at Rick and Tony’s parents on their slightly smaller deck next door. Mr. and Mrs. Lupone were both amazing in the kitchen, so living cheek by jowl like this was no hardship. Nate, who lived in the lofts two doors down and across the street, let them out in the dimmer stretch between two streetlights and drove off to park the van.

Dimmer stretch notwithstanding, they were kind of conspicuous in their black response gear with their unconscious charge.

“Get the door,” Adam said to Rick, because his beta always remembered which pocket held his keys.

There was no elevator, but the girl wasn’t much of a load for his wolfish strength to get up three flights of stairs.

“You smell different,” Tony said when they reached his door. “Maybe Carmine is right about you hitting your mating age. Maybe this girl is your perfect match.”

Unlike his brother, Tony sounded hopeful this was the case. That was all their pack needed. Former butch-ass prick Tony turning into a pansy-ass romantic.

Chapter Four

ARI was having the best dream of her life. Someone wonderful was holding her in his arms, someone big and warm who nuzzled her ear and murmured that everything was all right. The dream was also kind of sexy. She wriggled under the covers, enjoying her arousal. The only thing that bugged her was how her wrists were stuck together.

Her eyes snapped open as she shocked awake. She was lying in a strange bed under a bunch of blankets with her hands cuffed in front of her. She did a quick inventory. The coin on a chain the Latino had used to shut off her power still hung around her neck. Someone hadn’t hesitated to make her comfortable, because her shoes, jacket, and baggy outer T-shirt had been removed, leaving her in jeans and a tank top with a shelf bra. It was night, and a small table lamp was on. Three big men were in the room with her, one of them sitting in a grannyish looking armchair he’d pulled up beside her.

He was looking straight at her.

Really Hot Cop, she remembered, staring into his soft green eyes. She couldn’t seem to look away from them, though locking gazes with someone she didn’t know was a weird thing to do. He’d changed out of his assault gear into a snug white T-shirt and black sweatpants. Man, he had some muscles, like slabs packed one on top of another. His shoulders were as broad as she’d expected.

She lifted her cuffed hands under the blankets, aware they must have been removed at some point; they’d been secured behind her before. “Do I really have to keep wearing these?”

For some reason, her question made Hot Cop blush. “You do,” he said seriously. “You’re a dangerous felon.”

Okay, so Hot Cop had a sense of humor. That didn’t mean she had to like or—God forbid—trust him.

“If I’m so dangerous, why haven’t you arrested me?”

“We’ll get to that,” Hot Cop said. “Why don’t you tell us your name?”

“Why don’t you tell me yours?”

Hot Cop’s sexy mouth curved up. His lower lip was slightly fuller than the upper, with a dent in its soft middle. “I’m Adam Santini, and these are Tony and Rick Lupone.”

“And you are cops, for real?”

“They’re detectives. I’m their lieutenant.”

Hot Cop’s eyes weren’t budging from hers any more than hers were from him. His helmet had hid his hair. Now she saw it was shiny black—a little long, a little shaggy, with a hint of a wave. Gold winked beneath the base of his strong tanned throat, possibly a St. Michael medal. Ari should have been more unnerved by how good it felt just to stare at him. It was like the sight of him was food and she’d been starving. Usually she felt awful after one of her fits, but every cell in her body hummed with pleasure. Between her legs she was embarrassingly achy. Her nipples were so tight the stretchy bra in her tank top stung. Was the rest of him as impressive as his shoulders? He looked older than she was, thirty or thereabouts. Did that mean he’d be experienced in bed?

“I’m Ari,” she said before her overheated imagination could wander down that road.

“Ari,” he repeated. He didn’t ask for her last name. Maybe he suspected she wouldn’t say. Her head gave a funny swoop as he continued to stare at her.

“How did you get into Resurrection?” the one called Rick asked her.

Reluctantly, Ari shifted her gaze to him. Though his tone was slightly belligerent, this seemed a harmless enough question. “I took the suburban train, then walked from the last station.”

“You walked.”

Ari’s eyebrows shot up. “I couldn’t spare cab fare. Was I supposed to fly?”

Rick’s brother Tony snickered as if he knew a joke she wasn’t in on.

“Look,” she said, losing patience. “What’s with this town anyway? Why is everything so wonky?”

Adam opened his mouth just as a flash of motion behind the window next to the bed drew her attention. Ari turned to see what had caused it and let out a bloodcurdling scream. A giant gray face stared at her through the glass. It wasn’t a mask or a statue, because its features were moving. Not only that, its lion-like body was held in the air by flapping leathery batwings.

“Hey there,” it said in a low rumble, waving one clawed front paw. “Level Five, okay!”

Then the creature stuck up its opposable furry thumb.

Ari couldn’t help it. She screamed twice as loud as before.

“Jesus.” Adam kneeled up on the bed to slap his hand across her mouth. “I thought you were a badass. You’re going to have the neighbors calling the cops on us.”

The giant gray thing’s face twisted in what she swore was apology. Then it flapped its wings harder and flew away. Adam released her mouth.

“Wh—” Ari panted. “What the fuck was that?”

“Gargoyle,” Tony answered, sounding completely entertained by her reaction. “They’re our self-appointed National Guard. Lots of them like to hang out near where cops live.”

“A gargoyle,” she repeated.

Seeing she wasn’t screaming anymore, Adam sat back in his granny chair. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but Ari couldn’t resist looking at him again. “Really? A gargoyle?”

The smile she was getting to like way too much stretched his gorgeous face. “I don’t know how to break this to you, Ari, but you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

~

Ari’s head hurt too much to think, though probably she should have been glad the cops had stopped asking her questions so they could explain the situation she’d tripped into.

They’d moved the conversation from Adam’s guest room to his nicked-up round kitchen table. Tony ordered two extra large pizzas, which the men ate almost entirely by themselves. Not only was eating pizza in handcuffs a challenge, but after the first slice Ari’s appetite had stalled.

She was in the land of Faerie, a place whose borders she could cross because of her freaky gift. The cops who’d taken her hostage were werewolves. Gargoyles were real. Ditto for vamps and sorcerers. Probably more stuff too, but she hadn’t been able to force herself to ask.

And gnomes, she realized with a shudder. Her stomach dropped. She hoped the meat on the pizza had been regular sausage.

“Gnomes?” she asked raspily. “I, uh, saw some hanging in a restaurant window in Chinatown.”

“Pests,” Adam said. “Like squirrels.”

“They’re not intelligent,” Tony reassured her. “Not like dogs or cats. Or gargoyles. Now those are some smart cookies. Their language is just so different people assume they’re slow. One saying hi to you is a compliment.”

“But—” She swallowed. “Gnomes weren’t in that pizza, were they?”

Rick choked on his soda. “No,” he said as Adam slapped his back. “Most non-Asians don’t like the way they taste.”

She gave thanks for small favors. “What about the girls with the pointy ears I saw in the coffee shop?”

“Elves,” Adam said.

This made her smile at last. Elves were real? That was kind of awesome.

“Don’t get too excited,” Tony warned. “They’re mostly just people. It’s not like Lord of the Rings.”

“You watch our movies?”

“And your TV. There’s a special channel for imported programs. We like to know what’s going on out there, in case it affects us.”

Or in case someone like her stumbled into their pocket of Faerie. She sat back in her slatted chair, trying to wrap her head around what she’d learned. She smoothed her fingers back and forth on the rim of Adam’s kitchen table. It looked so real with its chipped paint and old scratches.

“It is real,” Adam said.

Ari blinked and looked up at him. She knew she hadn’t spoken aloud. “Why is my gift stronger here? Back home, I have to concentrate pretty hard to move anything.”

“This is Faerie. There’s more magic for you to tap into.”

Adam’s steady green gaze was making her head do that swoopy thing. She caught the table’s edge as she began to sway.

“You’re tired,” Tony said, startling her by scraping back his chair and rising. “We’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“You want us to clean up?” Rick said, giving his brother a scolding slap on the back of his head.

“I’ll take care of it,” Adam said.

He didn’t show them out. Ari guessed their relationship was too casual for that. Cousins, he’d explained. They seemed close, like they knew each other well. Except for being werewolves, they could have been any three guy buddies from Brooklyn.

Adam didn’t rise until they were gone. “Stay,” he said when she would have gotten up to help. “You look ready to fall over.”

She wasn’t. His sheer sexiness was making her weak-kneed. “It is kind of hard to dry glasses in handcuffs.”

He ignored the hint, though he might have suppressed a smile. It felt strangely good to be alone with him in his apartment, right and wrong at the same time. She watched him toss the pizza boxes, scrape the plates, and stack the dirty dishes inside the sink. He turned on the water and squirted out dish liquid. The sounds were so domestic they were surreal.

“So,” he said as they lulled her. “Why are you looking for the Eunuch?”

As interrogation methods went, she had to admire it.

Ari let out a sigh. “He hurt some friends of mine. I wanted to see if I could get him off their back.”

“How do you know him?”

Adam wasn’t looking at her, just soaping and rinsing plates with those slablike muscles shifting sexily in his back. Ari tried to calculate the angles. Answer. Don’t answer. Trust a little and see what she got in return. Adam didn’t seem like someone who’d be on Henry Blackwater’s payroll. Then again, if he was, he’d already know what she was going to say. She drew a breath and made up her mind.

“In my world,” she said, “Henry Blackwater . . . collects people like me.”

Adam shut off the water and turned, his narrow hips leaning back against the edge of the sink. How tall was he anyway? Six one? Six two? His legs looked ten feet long in the black sweatpants. Because they seemed dangerous to stare at, she dragged her eyes back up to his face. His brows were drawn together in a furrow above his nose.

“You didn’t know that,” she realized.

“No.” He dried his hands on a checkered towel. “We know what we think he does here in Resurrection, but it’s been very hard to prove. He makes a lot of money dealing drugs, and it buys him too many obfuscation spells.”

Ari supposed he meant this literally. “He deals drugs in my world too. He also runs a gambling racket. That’s what he wanted me for. With my gift, I could make things happen that no one else could predict. A odds-on favorite horse would flag in the final stretch, or a roulette ball would drop in a certain slot. More and more, the things he wanted me to do weren’t so harmless. I told him I was quitting, and for that he hurt my friends. None of us are anybody special, but they’re everything to me.”

He nodded like he understood, then sat opposite her again. The chair creaked under his muscled weight. “How did he find you?”

“That’s his thing. He has a knack for spotting people with special talents. Psychics who aren’t fakes. Healers who really do. He gets something on them so they have to work for him. In my case, I was on the street when he found me. All he had on me was that I was hungry.”

She heard the bitterness in her confession. He did too. He stretched his big hand across the table and covered both of her handcuffed ones. Ari’s jaw tightened even as pleasure rushed through her at the heat of his palm.

“If you’re underage or don’t want to use your name, you can still get jobs in New York, but at the least you have to be clean and fed. My friends and I couldn’t pull that off until Blackwater threw me the occasional assignment. Until then, we were living under bridges and begging. Sarah busked in the subway with her guitar, but that was only safe if one of us could stay with her. She was pretty and guys would—” She cut herself off before her mouth ran away with her.

“The rest isn’t your business,” she said stiffly.

His thumb stroked her knuckles. “Ari . . .”

His voice was gentle and deep, stroking nerves only sound could reach. Chances were, he was being nice to soften her up, but she wanted to tear off his clothes and forget every trouble she had with him. She didn’t even know if she could have sex with him. Would it turn her into a wolf if she did?

“He comes here every couple months,” she said, ignoring how husky the words came out. “Nobody knows what he does, only that he disappears. Some of his goons go with him, but they don’t share details. I only found out where he went because he jotted it in his dateminder. I used my gift to break it out of his locked desk drawer.”

“And you followed him here?” Adam shook his head like he couldn’t believe anyone would be that stupid.

“I told you. Maxwell and Sarah mean everything to me.”

They were all she had. No other souls in the world would care or even notice if she ceased to exist.

She thought about the last place she and her friends had lived. The apartment hadn’t been as nice as Adam’s, but it was good. No roaches. No leaks. An actual bedroom for the girls to share. A big bright window with light for Max to do his artwork by. He paid his share of the bills as a wall painter, but art was his calling. Of course, the stratospheric New York rent was a struggle once Henry Blackwater made sure Ari lost her hostess job. Max kept his until Henry’s goons broke his fingers. God, he’d cried that night. Only the second time she’d seen him do it, the first being when he’d confessed he was in love with Sarah. Things were finally getting better for all of us, he’d choked out with his beautiful hands lying immobilized by splints and bandages in his lap. What’s wrong with us? Why can’t our dreams come true?

Ari’s throat closed with emotion. She turned away from Adam, unwilling to let him see the personal things in her eyes.

“You’re close to this Maxwell?” Adam asked.

The discernible growl in his voice yanked her attention back to him. Color was rising faintly in his lean face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “That’s not my business either.”

In spite of everything, Ari smiled. He was jealous. He thought Maxwell was her boyfriend.

“He kissed me once,” she said, unable to resist teasing him. “But it was a mistake. He’s been in love with Sarah forever.”

Sarah was the fragile one in their little trio, a sweet-faced beauty with light brown shampoo-commercial hair and a heart so tender she’d give her last penny to someone worse off than she was. Max and Ari were tougher, but they loved her.

“I see.” Adam cleared his throat and stared at the table. His cheeks were bright red now.

Ari laughed. “Jeesh. For such a sexy dangerous guy, you’re adorable.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have called him sexy. When his head came up, his eyes were fiery. His irises glowed like a gas stove’s flame, the green edging into blue. Ari’s breath caught and she jerked back against her chair. Her breasts might have been small, but they were sensitive. Her nipples felt like someone was pinching them. Warm sleek fluid gushed from her pussy, dampening her panties. Adam’s nostrils got wider. He flattened his hands on the table top until their knuckles paled from pressure. His gaze dropped to her mouth and stayed there.

“I want to kiss you,” he rumbled like hot gravel.

His canines were sliding out like his cousin Tony’s had earlier. This shouldn’t have aroused her, but more cream trickled out of her. His lengthening teeth made her think of erections.

“I don’t think I’d stop you,” she said faintly.

He licked his gorgeous lips, his tongue leaving a wet trail. “I want to do more than kiss you.”

A blaze of heat swept through her. Ari stretched her handcuffed hands toward him. “You could take these off first.”

He shook his head, a tight side-to-side motion.

“You can trust me,” she said in her most persuasive voice. “I didn’t run away when you let me pee earlier.”

Again, he wagged his head. “You’re in my custody.”

“Not officially. Unless you’ve got a thing for bondage.”

Adam began breathing more quickly. Ari must have hit an accidental bull’s-eye. She couldn’t remember making a man pant before they were in bed.

“I don’t,” he said defensively. “At least, I never thought I did.”

He looked at her helplessly. God, she wanted him—all flushed and horny and embarrassed. She wanted him to pant harder. Wanted him to thrust into her and feel so good he cried out. She licked her own lips, and he let out a groan. Ari decided.

“To hell with it,” she said huskily. “You like these cuffs so much they can damn well stay on.”

He came out of his chair so fast he shocked her. He stopped when he saw she’d tensed. His lungs went in and out like bellows. “I’ll be careful,” he said.

She didn’t know what that meant, but right that second it didn’t matter. She stood and he was so much taller she felt silly. He didn’t, apparently. He bent, one hand behind her head, the other resting light as air on her waist. He caressed the strip of skin above the waist of her low-slung jeans.

“Ari,” he murmured, the way he said her name making her shiver. “Don’t cut yourself on the points of my incisors.”

Oh, man, that just did it for her. She stretched up and kissed him. The tip of his tongue slid like wet silk between her lips, instantly enchanting her. His mouth was the perfect cross between cushy and masculine.

“Mmm,” was all she could say at how good he tasted. His tongue was courting hers, gentle, slick, the damp huffing of his breath on her cheek almost too much of a turn on. She turned her head and invited him deeper. As he RSVP’d, another sexy growl rumbled in his chest.

To her delight, her encouragement turned him a bit less gentlemanly. One broad hand wrapped around her bottom, pulling her off her feet. He hiked up her weight like it was nothing, and maybe to him it was.

He turned, and her back bumped what she assumed was the refrigerator. Pressing her into it, he kissed her harder, deeper, those long canine teeth threatening to cut her lower lip. She opened wider and wrapped her legs around his trim waist.

“Ari,” he whispered, breaking free for a breath.

She used the opening to drop her cuffed hands behind his neck.

“I like your teeth,” she said.

He closed his eyes like hearing that hurt him. This time when he slanted his mouth over hers, the deep kiss didn’t end for long minutes. If this had been a movie, the violins would have been swooning. They both were breathing raggedly when he withdrew at last.

“Move me lower,” she said as his glazed eyes stared into hers.

“Lower?” His voice was thick with arousal.

“You’re too tall. I want to feel your erection between my legs.”

His body jerked, his fingers clamping tight on her butt. “All right. Just . . . don’t be afraid if it feels too big.”

Ari smirked. She’d heard that once or twice before. Then he moved her, and she realized maybe his warning was justified.

“Wow,” she said, gaping up at him.

He grimaced, not rocking into her yet, just rubbing her jean-clad crotch lightly up and down the middle of the stone hard ridge. It was hard to judge, but his cock felt like ten inches. Ari turned the teensiest bit leery.

“You know how to operate your power tool, right?”

This time, his smile was the smug one. “I do.”

“Girlfriend?”

He shook his head. “Not in a couple years. Not serious, anyway.”

She wondered at that. He seemed like a man women would snap up and hang onto. Not that this was her business.

“Can we actually—I mean, would it turn me into a wolf if you and I did the deed?”

His breath caught flatteringly. “No. There has to be a blood exchange and a ritual. And your Talent might make you immune. But—” He hesitated, that cute little furrow creasing between his brows. “Werewolves can impregnate Talents, even using birth control.”

She didn’t think she imagined that his hard-on got harder. Evidently, kissing women in cuffs wasn’t his only kink.

“I would never force you,” he said. “Not to do anything.”

The weirdest thing was, she believed him. Ari didn’t trust anyone lightly and she wasn’t sure she ever trusted completely. This cop radiated sincerity like he did heat. Her chest went tight at the idea that he wasn’t lying.

Since she couldn’t speak, she kissed him again.

~

Maybe Adam should have fought what was happening, but he couldn’t make himself. However good Ari’s reasons for her actions, she was a criminal. She was also younger than he was, a newcomer to Faerie, and a member of a different race.

Actually, that caused his instincts to prod him harder. Talents made good werewolf mothers. Sometimes women of their own race couldn’t control their need to shift and miscarried. Maybe Carmine was right about him having baby hunger. He wanted to spill inside this girl so bad he was practically whimpering.

Then again, maybe he just plain wanted inside her.

He groaned as she rocked against him, the denim seam that clasped her pussy compressing his zipper. She started sucking his tongue and a hot chill sluiced down his spine. He hurt from wanting her, and he had a sneaking suspicion she felt the same. He shoved her harder into the fridge, driving the hand that had been cradling her head under her soft tank top. He reminded himself he didn’t jump into sex with women he’d just met. Unfortunately, the warm silk of her breast felt like heaven under his palm. He caressed a delicious circle over the curve.

She moaned, arching into his massage. Holding her was like trying to control an eel without hurting it. She had a lot of strength for such a little thing. Her nipple was a hard tight pebble, and twice as hot as the rest of her. Since the rest of her was plenty hot, that was saying something.

He wrenched free of her mouth. “Gotta suck this.”

He shoved up her shirt and ducked.

“Unh,” she said as he latched on, her hips bucking hard against his aching dick.

She was moving like she was going to come. Hungry for that, he suckled harder, pulling the nipple and areola between his canines, curling his tongue around the tightness it was rubbing.

“Adam,” she gasped. “God.”

Her scent rose, her cream saturating her panties to wet her jeans. Adam backed off before he gave in to the urge to bite her.

That was the sort of thing he didn’t do without discussion.

“Why are you stopping?” Her voice was rough, her Iowa blue eyes glassy with desire.

Long explanations were beyond him. Feeling more than a little crazed, he laid her back on the kitchen table and undid the front of her ripped up jeans. She hadn’t come yet, but he knew how to make her.

“Can I?” he asked, fingers splayed across her warm little belly. “Can I pull these off and go down on you?”

Her eyes got big, her sharp tipped breasts going up and down with her hard breathing. Even in human form, his ears were sharp enough to hear her heart thundering. His lust cranked higher inside his veins.

“Yes,” she said, cuffed hands curling into fists. “Please.”

The please did it for him. Most male werewolves had a dominant switch or two. He yanked the worn black denim to her ankles, fell to his knees, and sank in. She tasted even better than he’d thought she would, rewarding every lick and suck with fresh cream. It was humbling, really, to be desired this much. Growling out his approval, he buried his face in her, using his fingers to rub what he couldn’t tongue, not letting up for a second until she came with a throttled scream.

He didn’t let up then either, not until she stopped twitching.

“Oh God,” she panted, her body sagging on the old wood.

He rose over her, his weight held off her by his elbows. His Saint Michael medal dangled down on its chain, and he hoped the policemen’s guardian wasn’t taking offense at this. Ari blinked a couple times before her eyes would focus.

“I felt your teeth,” she said in a shaky voice. “I felt them nudging to either side of my clit.”

His canines were still run out. He was too wound up for them not to be, nor were her words likely to change that. He licked the sweet taste of her from them.

She watched his tongue as if it fascinated her. “Do women always come that hard for you?”

“Sometimes,” he said honestly.

He felt her hands turn within the cuffs. They were directly beneath his groin, and her fingertips half petted, half scratched the pounding hump of his erection. The pleasure this stirred was so insane he gasped.

“Don’t stop,” he said when she paused. “That feels incredible.”

“Would you—” Resuming her tantalizing scratching motions, she wet lips as pink and plump as rosebuds. “Would you like me to suck you off?”

Lightning streaked through his cock. Those lips on him . . . That tongue . . . “I would like it,” he said, his throat almost too tight to push out the words. “But that isn’t what I want most right now.”

“What do you want most now?”

“I want to fuck my cock between your cuffed hands and come on your bare belly.”

He wanted it so badly he sounded angry. The blush left over from her orgasm deepened, setting her cheeks aflame. Her grin broke out a second before her chuckle. “Oh, you so have a fetish for bondage.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, enjoying her amusement. “But so far you’re the only woman to bring it out in me.”

She liked his answer. She smiled slyly from under her dark lashes. Her cuffed hands wrestled with the drawstring that kept his sweatpants secure on his hips. As the waistband gapped, she dug into the opening. Adam’s stomach jerked with anticipation.

“Hm,” she mused, catching her lower lip under small white teeth. “Not boxers and not briefs.”

His breath sucked in as she freed his heavy length from the tight jockstrap.

“Boy,” was all she had to say, her palms and fingers stroking him warmly from base to crown. He sensed she was measuring him. “Boy, oh boy, you are some handful.”

He tried to speak, but only got out a moan. Her touch was fearless: not too hard, not too soft, and wonderfully thorough.

“You’re wet,” she whispered, both thumbs finding his pre-ejaculate and swirling it around.

His head dropped down beside her neck. He couldn’t stop it. He had to rub his aching eyeteeth against her skin. Ari squirmed on the old table.

“Do you want to drink my blood?” Still whispering, she sounded more curious than horrified.

He shook his head, swallowed. “It’s a wolf thing. We like to . . . bite the neck of our partners to hold them in place when we come. It’s an instinct from our animal halves. We don’t need to break skin.”

He didn’t mention that sometimes they liked that as well.

“Ah,” she said. Her hands had just gotten hotter, perspiration dampening her palms as she cupped his balls and squeezed gently. “Are you going to come soon then?”

He groaned and kissed her, his tongue reaching deep to taste and claim. She kissed him back a little shyly. She was eager, but he could tell she wasn’t used to letting go completely. He wanted to make her let go, more than he’d have thought possible.

“Man, you can kiss,” she panted when he released her mouth again.

He smiled down into her dazzled expression. This is the girl for me, he thought.

He waited for the rational part of him to dismiss this as mystical mumbo-jumbo, but it wasn’t obliging him. Yes, his mind said firmly instead. That was a true thing you thought.

He didn’t know whether to believe this, but he could deal with it later. Right then, he had other priorities. He moved his hips, nudging his length through her hands. Her eyes got dreamy at the feel of him sliding.

Most likely, his did too.

He sighed as her fingers curled around him.

“You could do that tighter,” he said hoarsely. She did it tighter, and he began to thrust. Lord, it felt good. Her hot little hands. The slight rattle of the cuffs. The electrum plating smoothed their edges where his penis glanced over them. The charm that powered them gave off a slight tingle. Adam didn’t want to rush these assorted pleasures, but his increasing urge to come had him rolling his hips faster.

Ari turned her head and nipped his earlobe.

He cursed. This was something wolf lovers did. Her doing it turned up the current that ran through his sweet zones. Sensation rose sharply inside his groin.

“Fuck my hands,” she whispered, fingers tightening rhythmically on his shaft. “Fuck the hands you trapped in these pretty cuffs.”

He hadn’t known he liked dirty talk any more than he liked petite females. Her comment sent him into a spin. He was growling, sweating, his mouth open on her neck with both sets of canines run out so far they hurt. He hoped she couldn’t feel the lower ones. Some non-weres thought two pairs looked too animal. Then again, Ari might not mind. How fast she was breathing was amazingly sexy. Pleasure coiled to the point of pain . . .

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I want in you so bad.”

He pushed downward with his hips, angling his cockhead to jab her belly when his shaft shoved beyond her wrists. The crazy amount of pre-cum he was leaking smoothed his way really well. She made a sound, low and excited. He went faster.

“Yes,” she urged. “Go.”

His balls seemed to jump upward. The climax was a knot inside them—tighter, stronger—and then the feelings swelled so big they simply had to burst.

He came with a foghorn moan, hot spurts shooting over her hands and abdomen. He almost bit her but managed to hold off. The orgasm wrung him out harder than usual, like riding the crest of a long rough wave. She petted him all the way through it, seeming to know when his nerves turned raw and he needed her to gentle.

He wanted to collapse, but on top of her was the only place, and he was heavy. Groaning, he pulled free of her hold, tugged up his sweats, and sat shakily in one of the kitchen chairs.

“Whew,” she said after a few seconds. She sat up, panted, and hopped off the table to pull up her cotton panties and black jeans. Her mouthwatering little breasts were no longer situated where they belonged in her tank top’s bra. She rearranged both with a lack of self-consciousness that startled him. Werewolves weren’t known for their modesty, but that was mostly the males. Only long-time lovers had acted this way with him. She stepped between his sprawled knees as if they were old friends.

“That was good,” she said, giving his shoulders a comradely pat. “You’re hot stuff for a guy who lives in Faerie.”

Adam’s jaw was hanging, so he closed it. Was this sort of hook-up usual for her, and if it were, why did that bother him?

His expression must have betrayed his thoughts. She gave one of his biceps a joshing punch. “Don’t look so serious. Even cops must be allowed to have fun.”

Fun. His stupid subconscious was trying to tell him she was The One, and she thought this was fun. He shook himself, throwing off the annoying twinge of hurt. Probably he’d just imagined the voice in his head. Biology, he reminded himself. His hormones were playing tricks on him. Any second, he’d snap out of it.

“You think I could use your shower?” she asked. “I’m kind of—” She gestured toward her front with her still cuffed hands.

Adam couldn’t keep from swallowing. He’d really cut loose on her, the pearly stain of his semen starting to soak into her thin T-shirt. He liked how big the mark was. Liked the way their strongest scents had mingled. Cream that hadn’t dried darkened the crotch of her jeans.

“Adam?”

“Sure,” he said, his brain stuttering back from its side trip. “Just let me get clean towels and . . . and the key to those things.”

She smiled brilliantly.

“You shouldn’t use that as an excuse to run,” he warned her, not convinced she’d given up the idea. “I know you’re worried about your friends, but my team and I want to help you. It’s in our interest, as well as being our job. You don’t know what sort of trouble you could get into here alone.”

Her smile sobered. She considered him for a moment with big blue eyes he wouldn’t have guessed could look that sharp. “Okay,” she said. “No more running until you give me a reason to.”

Her choice of words gave him pause. Until she’d said. Not even unless. Clearly, their accidental tourist had a few trust issues.

~

He knew he’d smell her in the shower when he used it after her. Even though he’d waited an hour. Even though he ran the hot water first.

Her scent was in every moist molecule of air.

A growl rumbled in his belly as his cock increased in weight and lifted. He tried ignoring it, but by the time he’d finished soaping the rest of him, the thing was sticking up like a red flagpole.

He didn’t think he’d been this hard since his mid twenties.

Giving in, he soaped his ball sac, using a slow firm pressure. Stretching his testicles felt good enough to rest the back of his head against the tile enclosure. He’d rub one off. Maybe two. Then he’d be relaxed enough to sleep. He wouldn’t think about how Ari had halfway screamed when she came, how her clit had felt and tasted against his tongue . . .

When he moved one hand to his shaft, when he tightened the grip and pulled, his canines ran out full length. Unable to restrain the urge, he rubbed his spine against the wall like it was itching. Fuck, this was what he needed. He fought a groan as his pleasure rose. The wall to this shared bathroom adjoined his guest room. He didn’t need Ari hearing him jerk off. For all he knew, she’d offer to join him.

He didn’t think he was ready to take whatever this was further. Even thinking about rushing into it with her excited him. He moved his right hand faster, slick and snug on his throbbing shaft. Werewolf body temps could get sultry. His dick was hot enough to burn, but—holy hell—jerking off tonight was intense. He tugged faster, giving the sensitive inch underneath the flare a more emphatic share of friction. His knob wanted in on the action, but he was saving that for later. He planted his feet wider on the tile, thigh muscles bunching, hot needles of spray hitting his chest and balls.

Gasping, he turned his back to the water and re-soaped as fast as he could. He liked his masturbation slippery. Liked it hot and wet and as tight as a woman’s cunt. He saw Ari’s breasts in his imagination, half-bared by her disarranged T-shirt, nipples peaked and red from her orgasm. A moan backed up in his throat. He couldn’t wait. He switched hands: the left now fisting the shaft, the right thumb and fingers circling quick and hard on the glans.

Would you like me to suck you off? came her sweet sinner’s voice in his mind.

His spunk exploded, shooting out and splattering the tile. Eyes squeezed shut with bliss, he worked both hands at top speed and let the giant orgasm roll. Jesus, it wouldn’t stop. It was like before with her on the kitchen table and the handcuffs. The long hot wave of pleasure gripped every nerve and twisted.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the curse having to come out.

He was panting—shaking, to be truthful—his locked knees and the wall of the shower holding him upright. His shoulders blocked the water. The results of his lengthy ejaculation hadn’t washed away yet. He saw he’d sprayed the width of the enclosure, from waist level to the floor. Did he always come this much? Were Ari and his alleged baby hunger doing something new to him?

His keen were hearing picked up a muffled sound. His dick recognized it before his brain. The noise was Ari’s orgasmic cry, likely stifled in her pillow. Ari’s quick little fingers were moving rhythmically on wet flesh. Shit. She was masturbating. His dick shot up and got rigid in two heartbeats.

You’d have thought it hadn’t just shot its insides out.

For a couple seconds, all Adam could do was watch it stick out and shudder in front of him. When that got old, he gripped himself to stroke off again.

The sounds in the guest room had stopped, which was probably for the best. If he heard the Talent do that again, he might not make it out of this shower with his dick still attached to him.

Chapter Five

ARI wasn’t a huge fan of masturbation. She did it, of course. Everybody did. There had simply been too many instances in her life when it was inconvenient to need to. She’d been happy to let her hormones sleep for weeks at a time. On the rare occasions when she’d had sex, it was more of a friendly thing than a production.

Meeting Adam Santini seemed to be changing that.

The need to get off had seized her last night. He’d given her a superior climax on the kitchen table, better than she was comfortable admitting. She should have slept like a baby, but then she’d heard the shower go on. She’d been lying in the nice clean bed, idly picturing Adam naked under the spray. Any woman would have done the same, but her clit had suddenly gone crazy and she’d absolutely had to shove her hand into her panties.

She was glad the shower had been so noisy. The climax had been intense. She hadn’t been able to hold in a cry as it broke.

But no reason Really Hot Cop had to know what he’d done to her.

After that, she’d lain awake for a while, staring out the window beside her bed. Adam’s snug little guest room overlooked a small fenced yard and faced the back of another line of rowhouses. Brimming pots of mums decorated the fire escapes, lights glowing here and there behind window shades. The neighborhood looked normal. Blue collar. Clean but not spotless. A shadow swept across the three-quarter moon, making her shiver.

Maybe the gargoyle had flown over.

She wondered if Maxwell was okay in the hospital. She’d been able to heal his hands after Henry’s goons broke them that first time. It had taken her a couple days, and she’d had two fall-down fits from pulling so much power. The second time they’d come after him, the damage was too extensive. Max had refused to even let her try, claiming he was afraid she’d stroke out. It occurred to her that if he’d been here in Resurrection, she might have had sufficient juice to succeed. Or someone else would be able to. Adam had implied lots of people had gifts here.

She wriggled lower in the covers, wondering why Henry Blackwater had bothered to collect her. If Resurrection had so many Talents, why didn’t he recruit them? It was a puzzle she wasn’t going to solve snuggled up warm and safe in Hot Cop’s soft guest bed. She also wasn’t going to figure out where Sarah had disappeared to. Her female BFF had her issues, but she adored Maxwell. If she’d known Maxwell was laid up in that hospital, she’d have chained herself to his bed.

“Keep them safe,” she whispered to the deity her parents had tried to claim as their personal bullyboy. “You know they rely on You more than most people.”

Maybe it was because the air in Resurrection held more magic. Warmth washed through Ari’s limbs after she said the prayer, relaxing some of her tension. She slid into sleep with a rare sense of personal safety.

“I can wiggle my teef,” piped a voice behind her.

Ari’s eyes flew open. It was morning. Sun flooded through the dry rain spots on the window, practically blinding her. Something tugged the blanket that covered her.

“Wanna see?”

Ari turned warily. A boy about three years old stood beside her bed. His hair was black and shiny, his happy eyes the same soft green as Adam’s. When he saw he had her attention, he used his fingers to pull back his upper lip. Sure enough, his little canines went up and down.

“Wow,” Ari said, because some response seemed to be expected. “That’s awesome.”

The boy giggled. “You have a fwog in your fwoat.”

“That’s because you woke me up.” Facing the boy on her side, she pulled the blanket higher on her neck. Were little boys supposed to see grown up women in tank tops and panties?

“Are you naked under there?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“No,” Ari said. “I’m just shy.”

The boy absorbed this, obviously feeling no obligation to leave on that account. “My Unca Tony is gay,” he announced. “My mommy is his sister. She cwied, but Daddy said at weast she wouldn’t have to worry about him chasing squirrels all the time.”

“Skirts,” Ari corrected without thinking.

“What?” said the boy, his rosy mouth open.

“Your dad probably meant— Oh never mind. Chasing squirrels all the time would be bad.”

“They’re fast,” the boy agreed. “But it’s fun when you get ’em up a tree.”

The door to her room opened, allowing a dark male head to poke in. “Shit,” said Unca Tony. “Sorry. Babysitting duty this morning. The pup got away from me.”

“Not apposed to say the ‘S’ word,” his nephew scolded as Tony scooped him up by the waist. “The lady didn’t mind, Unca Tony. She was talking to me.”

Tony rolled his eyes over the boy’s head. “Sorry,” he said again. “We’ve got breakfast going if you’re hungry.”

The boy squirmed in his arms and started barking as Tony carried him out. The yipping sounds were so convincing they made her laugh. Of course, considering the boy might turn into a puppy, the realism wasn’t surprising. Out in the hall, Tony let out a growl, at which his nephew whined and fell silent.

Ari’s eyes went round. She realized she’d just eavesdropped on an actual wolfish discussion.

Pretty sure the door would stay closed, she tugged down the window shade, then swung out of bed and dressed. Someone—Adam, she imagined—had stacked a clean sweatshirt and jeans on the granny chair. They were women’s garments, slightly big for her but wearable. He must have slipped in while she was sleeping. That made her feel both unnerved and touched.

Some men wouldn’t have cared if she had fresh stuff to wear.

With very little concentration and the help of the bathroom mirror, she got her hair to stick up the way she liked, so Maxwell’s custom red design was displayed just right. That done, she was ready to go out.

She felt as shy as she’d claimed to the boy when she stepped into the crowded kitchen. Rick and Tony were there, plus an older couple she suspected were their parents. Both the couple were cooking, with the boy plunked nearby on the counter, swinging his feet and gnawing on a strip of jerky. Adam sat at the kitchen table, stirring pancake batter inside a bowl.

He looked straight up at her.

God, she wished she weren’t remembering what they’d done on that table mere hours before. Her face went hot, his turned pink, and then, “Hey, lady!” squealed the boy.

She should have looked away from Adam, but it seemed she had to hold his gaze a few seconds more.

“Her name is Ari,” Tony murmured.

“Hey, Awi!” the boy called just as loud as before. “I’m Efan!”

Ari laughed, and the spell was broken, her eyes freed from the enticement of Adam’s gorgeous green orbs. Mr. and Mrs. Lupone introduced themselves, and they ate a noisy chaotic breakfast together. There didn’t seem to be a special occasion. Apart from Ethan, no one made a fuss about her being there. Ari sat and watched them, struck dumb by their camaraderie. At its best, her family hadn’t been anything like this. At its worst, eating with her parents had been like trying to walk on ice barefoot—a series of “godly” pronouncements interspersed with prim silence. When Ethan finished eating, he crawled around barking on the floor butting people’s calves. None of his relatives objected. Indeed, his grandfather leaned over periodically to scratch him behind his ears.

“Can Ethan change?” she leaned close to Adam to ask.

“He won’t until he’s five or six,” he said, leaning in as well. “Until then, he likes to pretend.”

“He showed me he could wiggle his teeth.”

Adam grinned. “That’s the werewolf version of flirting. He probably thought you were pretty.”

His soft green eyes gleamed mere inches away from hers. As she stared back at them, mesmerized, their green began shading into blue. The faintest, most delicious scent rose from him, like a cedar grove warming in the sun. She wanted to roll in the smell until it was all over her. Under the table, one of Adam’s knees pressed harder against hers. His lips parted a second before he jerked back from her, blinking.

“Well,” he said, his voice a little throaty. “Maybe I should start clearing.”

“Oh you can leave that to us,” Mrs. Lupone demurred. “We invited ourselves this morning. And it’s your day off. Why don’t you and your nice young lady take an after breakfast stroll?”

“I’m not his—” Ari stopped when Adam gave his head a small shake. Maybe he didn’t want his aunt hearing about cop stuff. “Um, sure. A stroll sounds great. Thanks for the awesome grub.”

“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Lupone responded with her eyes sparkling.

Ari hadn’t realized she’d been tense, but she took her first truly easy breath of the morning when she and Adam exited the rowhouse’s front street door.

Adam was as quiet as she was. The day was a picture perfect autumn creation: crisp, sunny, the trees that grew from the railed-in planters in the sidewalk starting to turn scarlet. The borrowed sweatshirt she wore was the ideal weight for the weather. As they walked, Adam plunged his hands into his cargo pants pockets. Ari couldn’t decide what to do with hers.

He stopped beneath the maple at the next corner. “You okay?” he asked. “You’ve had a lot of shocks in a short span of time.”

Ari snorted. “Not the least being woken up by a three year old.”

Adam’s shoulders hunched as he dug his hands deeper. “Werewolves don’t exactly stand on ceremony.”

“I didn’t mind. I just haven’t hung with a lot of kids.”

“You were fine with him. Good, actually.” Apparently, Really Hot Cop blushed at the drop of a hat. He looked away from her to the Italian grocery on the corner. Bins of fresh apples glowed in the dappled sun, so bright Snow White would have been tempted to bite one. Ari restrained an urge to pinch herself. For all she knew Snow White was a real person here.

When Adam turned back, he’d pulled his cop side into his face again. “I need to debrief you. Get everything you know or even think you know about the Eunuch.”

“O-kay,” she said slowly.

“Also—” He reached out to lightly touch the base of her neck. “You should wear the depowering charm Nate . . . gave you if you go out. It doesn’t just damp your magic, it inhibits other people from reading how much you have. Level Five is high enough to draw attention. You wouldn’t want Blackwater putting it together that you’ve come here gunning for him.”

Ari stuck her hands in her pockets, then realized she was echoing his posture. “How many levels are there?” she asked, refusing to pull them out and make herself more conspicuous.

“Eight,” he said. “It’s called the Bunscombe Scale. The gargoyles invented it. One to three is nothing you’d notice if the person were in your world. The ability to change shape gets you ranked a five, but the demarcations aren’t black and white. Most weres don’t do magic, they just are.”

“That gargoyle called me a Level Five.”

“You probably are. Magical Mentoring would have to test you to be sure.”

“Magical Mentoring?”

Adam grimaced. “It’s like foster care for Talents who wander into the Pocket, which happens more often than you might guess. Their counselors train you to control your gift. Spell out the rules for what’s allowed and what’s not. Plus, you get officially registered, which you have to do before you can take the certification test. Some things citizens can’t do without a license.”

Like torture people, she thought.

“Strictly speaking, there’s no license for that. A couple government departments do it anyway, but they’re not supposed to.”

Ari pulled her hands from her pockets and crossed her arms. “You read my mind.”

“I only can do it sometimes. I have a touch of the Sight. My grandmother was an elf.”

She couldn’t help it. Even though she was irritated, she had to laugh. “Lemme see your ears.”

He smiled as she brushed his silky locks behind one, then stood on tiptoe to see. Their shape was perfectly normal.

“Pointy ears are recessive,” he informed her.

Because touching even his ear felt a bit too good, she dropped her hand. “This place is so freaking weird.”

“Bad weird?”

His expression seemed serious. “No,” she said, caught by his gaze again. “Not bad . . .”

Why was he looking at her like that? Like her answer was important? The air in her lungs thickened. His hands had taken her upper arms, and his thumbs were sweeping over the soft sweatshirt.

“Ari,” he said huskily. “I can’t seem to stop touching you.”

She couldn’t either. Her hands were on his waist. He bent to kiss her, and she could have sworn it had been eons since she last tasted him. The kiss was harder than the night before, nearly fierce. She stretched into it, kissing him back with more abandon than she’d known she had in her. She drove her hands under the thin T-shirt that seemed to be all the warmth he needed. His skin was silk laid over hot muscles. When she scratched lightly up and down his spine, he groaned and stabbed at her tongue with his. Ari sucked it as hard as she could, delighting when this made his canines extend.

“Jeez,” he gasped, wrenching free. “I could fuck you right out here in the street.” His groin was mashed against her belly, the giant hump at his crotch making his point for him. Between her legs, her clit felt like it had swollen to the size of a strawberry. It pulsed like a mariachi band throwing a party.

His full lower lip, the one with the dent in it, was reddened from kissing.

Ari took two tries before she could speak. “I guess people don’t have sex in the street here.”

“No.” He dragged his slightly open lips up her cheek, inhaling as he went. His teeth found her earlobe and took a delicate nip. “Fuck, Ari, you smell good.”

It killed her to hear him say this. As a werewolf, his nose was better than hers. If she wanted to roll around in his scent, what must he want to do with her? Shivering, Ari pushed away. She had a mission. She needed to focus. This thing with Really Hot Cop was getting out of control. Adam didn’t help when he took both her hands in his and squeezed. The pressure of his fingers was unaccountably erotic.

“Debriefing,” she reminded him shakily.

“Right.” He released her hands to run one of his back through his thick black hair. “I’ll call the team. We can go over it together.”

~

The Lupones were still at Adam’s place watching Ethan. Evidently, Adam’s apartment contained fewer breakables. Rather than request they leave, Adam collared Rick and Tony and headed across the street to Nate Rivera’s.

Hot Latino guy lived in a big loft space, no walls except for his fancy bathroom and some storage. He was a clotheshorse, for sure. In his bedroom corner hung more nice suits than Ari had seen outside a department store. They were organized by color on long rolling racks like you’d see burly guys pushing along the Garment District’s streets. Nate’s ceiling went up forever to exposed pipes, and cool little paintings Max would have loved hung on the rough brick walls. The place was so slick Ari wasn’t sure where the others found the nerve to prop their feet on his ottomans.

The only absent team member was Carmine. He was spending his day off with his wife and kids.

Nate served everyone coffee in matching miniature off-white cups.

“You sure Nate’s not the gay one?” Ari heard popping from her mouth.

From a mile away in his open kitchen, Nate shot her the fish-eye.

“Wolf ears,” Tony said, touching his own. “They can hear pins drop.”

Adam suddenly found Nate’s copy of Urban Style deeply interesting.

Shoot, Ari thought. He must have heard her getting off last night. She struggled against her blush, but it wasn’t easy when Tony’s mouth curved up. Unlike his brother, he appeared to like the idea that Adam was hot for her.

Nate set a second French press of coffee wrapped in a quilted cozy on his low glass table. “Now that we’ve got our caffeine supply, maybe our tourist would like to spill her info on the Eunuch.”

“Maybe you’d start by asking what you want to know.”

“Names,” Rick said, leaning forward from the sculptural white couch he was sharing with his brother. His manner held the same edge of challenge it had last night. “Associates. Enemies. Other Talents who work with him.”

“You don’t have names?”

“We have some names from here, but we’ve never succeeded in getting a spy in his inner circle. Our understanding of his operation is sketchy.”

Ari wasn’t as comfortable answering him as she was Adam, but she’d agreed to this. “Well,” she said, propping her forearms on her thighs, “he doesn’t seem to travel without his entourage. He’s got six or seven goons he favors, who stay with him in whatever place he’s leasing. He moves maybe twice a year, and always goes high end. Like, penthouses with park views. Some of his pet Talents live with him. Others like me have outside jobs. We only come to him when he calls. Every so often, one of his pets disappear. The junkies especially don’t last long.”

“They disappear,” Adam repeated. Like her, he sat on his own chair. She noticed he’d angled it more toward her.

“Most of us assume they die. Whatever he has them doing seems to burn them out. Or maybe they OD the old-fashioned way.”

“But you don’t know for sure what happens to them.” Nate’s manner was intense but in a different way from Rick’s. He seemed to have no beef with her, just a naturally skeptical nature. His chair was red with black cow spots and shaped like an egg. He would have looked silly in it, if he weren’t giving off such a danger vibe.

“No,” she agreed. “We don’t know for sure what happens. One day they’re there, and the next they’re not.”

“Do you remember names?” Nate pressed.

“I put the ones I know in my tablet. Blackwater hates computers. It seemed a reasonably safe way to keep track.”

Ari shifted her gaze to Adam, who exhaled resignedly. He understood what her raised eyebrows were asking. “Yes, I confiscated your tablet.” He pulled it out of the army green rucksack he’d brought with him. He held the device between his knees for a moment and looked at her. “Nate has a converter that can make your tablet run on local power. It would be helpful if you gave him permission to look at it.”

“And if I don’t?” Ari asked, curious to hear the answer.

“If you don’t, we have to get a warrant, or what we find won’t be admissible in court. If we need a warrant, we’ll have to turn you over to Magical Mentoring.”

“And that you truly won’t enjoy,” Tony said helpfully. “You’re a rogue Level Five. If you’re lucky, Mentoring will only keep you in protective custody for a couple months.”

A couple months were more than Ari could afford to delay. As long as Blackwater stayed in Resurrection, Maxwell and Sarah were safe. If he headed back to New York and was still in a rage over Ari’s rebellion, she didn’t want to guess how he’d take revenge.

“Give Nate the tablet,” she surrendered.

Nate rose and took it to a sleek office area that was set up along one wall. The others followed, so she did too. The plug Nate stuck in the tablet’s port looked ordinary, but when it powered up her scalp prickled. She pointed out the file she’d been keeping her records in.

“Password?” Nate said over his lean shoulder.

Ari’s face heated. “Godlovesme2. With a numeral at the end.”

Behind her, Adam’s hand settled on her back. His palm didn’t rub her, but it was warm. He kept it there while Nate cross-searched the police database with the names in her file. Metrosexual werewolves could be techno-geeks, she guessed, because his long fingers seemed at home on both machines. Less than ten minutes passed before he straightened.

“None of these Talents are in our system,” he said. “If the Eunuch brought them here, they’re not registered.”

Tony’s side brushed hers as he leaned in to see the screen, his big body warming hers unself-consciously. “We could ask the gargoyles. They usually notice new magic folks.”

“Eh,” Rick said dubiously. “Gargoyles are notoriously bad with names.”

“I have pictures,” Ari offered, causing all four men to look at her. “My camera phone never seemed to work around Blackwater, but my friend Maxwell managed to sketch a few.”

For the first time, Nate regarded her with respect. “Chica, you are not as blonde as you look. Maybe those hair spikes haven’t punctured your brain.”

Ari didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended. Her style was her style, the same as Nate’s was his. Deciding to ignore the dig, she showed Nate where she’d hidden the scans of Maxwell’s sketches. He sent the file to his printer.

“These accurate?” he asked, showing them to her.

His printer must have had a charm on it. Maxwell excelled at capturing faces, but his sketches had printed out like photographs.

Ari gulped and nodded. Seeing those missing faces just as they’d been in life was eerie.

~

Ari was getting to Adam, not just her smell or her looks but who she was. Her password was the latest chip in his defenses. Someone must have told her God didn’t watch over freaks like her. If he’d known who it was, he’d have given them a piece of his mind. And good for her, for knowing better. This chica, as Nate called her, had spirit.

They returned to Nate’s sitting area, where they could pass around her friend’s pictures. Adam knew his men were searching their sharper than normal memories for faces they might have come across in the past. Rick was the last to go through the stack.

When he finished, the beta flapped the pages on his thigh. “What do you used unregistered Talents for?”

“Illegal stuff,” Tony answered.

“Right,” Rick said, his gaze unfocused, “but here in Resurrection, they’d be limited to small tricks. Any use of power above a three, and they’d be too likely to set off the gargoyles’ alarms.”

“Maybe the Eunuch has better shields than we know about,” Nate said.

“Maybe. But Talents aren’t so good at precision work. The bigger the job, the more unpredictable their results. Everything we know about the Eunuch tells us he’s an anal guy.” He looked at Ari, his expression hardened by the guardedness in it. “From what she says, the Talents who disappeared were burned out. If that’s true, how much would they be able to do even here?”

“Huh,” Tony said, flopping back on the modern couch.

Nate leaned forward as he dropped back, his graceful brown thumb and finger pinching his lower lip. “There are a couple of demon species who don’t mind being paid in people. He could be using his discards as bribes.”

“Oh!” Ari exclaimed, popping straight in her chair. Adam wasn’t happy to discover his hackles tightened when the other men looked at her. His possessive tendencies shouldn’t be rearing their heads like this.

Nervous at the attention she’d drawn, Ari rubbed her thighs through the jeans he’d borrowed from Tony and Rick’s sister. “Okay,” she said. “First, demons are real too?”

“’fraid so,” Tony confirmed.

Ari’s throat worked, but she nodded, inspiring a flare of pride in him. “All right, maybe some of the stories people whispered about Blackwater weren’t as crazy as I thought.”

“What stories?” Adam asked gently.

God, he loved the way her eyes locked on his. The connection felt like pure warm gold being poured down his spinal cord, comforting and sexy at the same time. He was only distantly aware of Nate quietly snorting. He doubted Ari heard it at all.

“People said he’d made a deal with the devil. They said that’s how he could find gifted folks like me. One girl claimed . . .” She hesitated.

“Claimed what?”

“She claimed that instead of trading his soul, he’d given Satan his dick. It’s true he never had sex with anybody. Not girls, not boys. I assumed he was impotent, and put out that story himself to make it seem scary instead of lame. But maybe it’s true. A demon is like a devil, isn’t it?”

“Some are,” Adam admitted. “The hell dimension residents who come to Resurrection have to have enough control over their dark sides to keep from being deported.”

Ari shivered, obliging Adam to suppress an urge to hug her. “So offering up your manhood could be a good way to seal a pact? To get yourself more juice if maybe you’d been born a Level One?”

“A damn good way,” Adam said. “And turning over burned out Talents who’d never be reported missing might be the cost of continuing to do business.”

She shivered again, and Adam reached over to squeeze her knee. He hoped it comforted her. On his side, the contact sent heat zinging up his tailbone.

“This is speculation,” Rick pointed out. “We need evidence if we’re going to bring him down.”

Reluctantly, Adam released Ari’s knee. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Rick pulled a face to say he didn’t have any.

“Come on,” Nate broke in impatiently. “Am I the only one who thinks Ari here would make ideal bait?”

Adam’s canines slid down as his lip curled back, a snarl rising in his throat before he could stop it. Nate had not just suggested that.

“Whoa,” Nate said, hands lifted, palms exposed. “Just consider it before you go ballistic. Blackwater wants her on his leash again. If we let him find her, he’ll think it was his idea to yank her back to heel. It’ll never occur to him she’s a plant.”

“She’s a civilian,” Adam growled. “A human. We aren’t throwing her to that bastard like she’s a fucking steak.”

“If you’d stop thinking with your dick for two seconds—”

As alpha, Adam had more speed than any of his pack. He had Nate and his stupid egg chair flat on their backs before the lower ranked wolf could defend himself. Adam dearly wanted to tear him apart, but settled for yanking him up and slamming him into the raw brick wall between his front windows.

“Shit,” Nate gasped once enough of his breath came back.

He was no weakling and didn’t immediately submit. Right that second, this wasn’t the smart option.

“Bare your neck,” Adam barked, shaking him so hard his head snapped back. His eyes were hot and glowing, his voice supernaturally low and thick.

“Sheesh,” Nate muttered, but he lifted his chin out of the way for him.

Claiming his due, Adam pressed his extended canines around the other man’s wildly racing pulse. Werewolves healed wounds fast. He wouldn’t kill Nate if he bit down and tore, but it might be a near thing. His more primitive side really wanted to test that.

“I’m sorry,” Nate said, his hands coming to Adam’s ribs to rub them soothingly. “I didn’t realize how serious you’d gotten about her.”

He meant it. He wasn’t just offering empty submission. Adam shoved his inner wolf back into its cage and stepped back. He hadn’t realized how serious he’d gotten either. He couldn’t apologize, but he did nod to Nate in acceptance. Both of them were shaking just a little as Nate rubbed his reddened neck. They hadn’t come this close to a knock-down drag-out since the pack had been formed. Once a cop passed his courses at the Academy, leadership was decided by combat in wolf form. Back then, Nate had thought he’d be squad alpha. When he also hadn’t won the fight for beta, the loss had been hard on him. He was as strong as Rick or Adam, and certainly as smart. For whatever reason, his genes didn’t send the same signals. Rick and Adam’s wolves had been able to control his.

“You two done?” Tony asked from the living room. “Not that watching you two go at it wasn’t ree-diculously hot.”

Nate snorted and they returned to their chairs, Tony having set Nate’s fallen egg upright. As Adam hitched up his cargo pants and sat, Ari followed his movements with rounded eyes. The part of him that was trying to watch its back with her wished he didn’t feel so satisfied that her pulse was thudding.

“Here’s the thing,” Nate ventured cautiously. “We need to get close to Blackwater’s operation somehow.”

The back of Adam’s neck started prickling again. Before he could speak, Rick did.

“We can’t use Ari,” he said, the first time he’d used her name that Adam could recall. “We don’t know what the Eunuch is doing to the Talents who disappear. Even if we wired her some way he wouldn’t spot, we couldn’t move in fast enough if she was in trouble.”

Tony cleared his throat with a humorous flourish, and Adam felt a gratitude for his presence that was becoming familiar. Ever since he’d given up on proving how tough he was, Tony had turned peacemaker. Werewolf aggression being what it was, they could always use more of those.

“I have an idea,” the squad’s youngest member said. “One our fearless leader might actually go for. We ask the gargoyles to do an enhancement spell on Adam. He’s already got a gift. If he could pass for another Talent from Outside, the Eunuch might not be able to resist scooping them up as a pair.”

“That could work,” Rick said, “except gargoyles don’t usually do spells for members of other races.”

“They might this time. I’m not sure how the Eunuch twisted their tails, but they hate the bastard as much as we do. Plus, the one outside Adam’s window seemed to take a shine to Ari. Maybe he’d do it as a favor to her.”

“We’d have to get the undercover work approved,” Nate put in.

“The Mayor could green-light it,” Tony said. “Outside normal channels so it won’t get back to Blackwater. Hell, considering Ari’s a Level Five, he’ll probably want to meet her regardless.”

“Hold on,” Adam said before everyone got too excited. “If the gargoyles agree to concoct a disguise for me, we don’t have to involve Ari.”

Ari made a sound of protest, then shut her mouth when he looked at her.

“You could stay safe,” he said emphatically.

Nate must not have learned his lesson as well as Adam thought, because he began to laugh. “Boss, have you forgotten what this girl was doing when we found her? She’s going mano a mano with the Eunuch whether you tag along or not.”

“Is that true?” Adam asked her.

“Uh,” she said, squinching up her face. “Yes?”

“Well, fuck,” he said, pretty much astounded. “How exactly are you hoping to get him to lay off your friends? No matter what you concede to a man like that, he’ll just ask for more. He’ll own you, Ari. And that still won’t guarantee your friends’ safety.”

Ari looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Boss,” Nate said almost gently. “Ari might not want to tell you this, on account of us being cops, but I’m pretty sure she intends to fry Henry Blackwater from the inside out. She is a freaking Level Five, after all.”

“That kind of was the plan,” she confessed. “At least once I saw what I could do with my power here.”

“Well, fuck,” Adam said again. Ari was either extremely crazy or extremely brave. If Blackwater’s cohorts didn’t kill her, she’d spend the next forty years in jail.

“You can’t,” he said shakily. “We have to respect the law.”

“You have to respect it. If your way doesn’t work, I have to take him out any way I can. My friends are only in danger because of me. They saved my life when I first landed on the street.”

Her big blue eyes shone with earnest tears, pleading with him to understand or maybe not to stand in her way. Compared to him, she was a kid, and she was ready to do this thing. It was his job to lay his life down for other people—his nature, if it came to that. He knew then he’d have laid it down for her twenty times over.

“I guess we’ll have to make sure my way doesn’t fail,” he said grimly.

~

Apparently, Adam knew Resurrection’s mayor. He didn’t have any trouble getting an appointment for that evening, after official office hours.

“We’re set for seven,” he said, shutting the phone that looked pretty much like hers, the only difference being that its logo said Elfnet.

They stood on the shady pavement outside Nate’s loft. The others had gone their separate ways. Ari’s body felt very aware of Adam’s, too aware really. She wondered if Ethan and his grandparents were still at Adam’s house.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “You want to walk a bit?”

She nodded and he set off without a word, seeming as tongue-tied as she was. Ari took in the neighborhood: the convenience stores and cafes, the dry cleaner with the blue-skinned man in the turban behind its high counter. The subway entrance resembled the ones at home, down to the chewed gum squashed in the cement steps. Ari made a mental note to return on her own if she got a chance, so she could study the subway map. That made her feel untrusting and ungrateful, which maybe was what pried her mouth open.

They’d reached a little Greek restaurant with an old striped awning and a collection of chairs and tables roped off on the broad sidewalk. It reminded her so much of Mikos that she stopped in her tracks.

Adam stopped as well and put his warm hand on her shoulder. Ari didn’t pull away. She liked the way it felt.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Do you want to go in?”

“I was a hostess in a restaurant like that one.”

“Were you?”

She felt him watching her face but didn’t turn to him. At the nearest table, a paper napkin fluttered in a metal holder. If she answered, would it count as sharing? “I worked my way up from busgirl. I liked it. It was peaceful.”

“I can’t imagine working in a restaurant as peaceful.”

“Mikos had its dramas, but they were never very important. Two months ago, Blackwater told the owner he’d beat him senseless unless he fired me.”

Adam’s hand stroked her spiky hair, though he said nothing. Ari fought the tears that wanted to rise in her eyes. “Mr. Mikos was a nice man. He’d save things from the kitchen for me to take home to my roommates. Little treats he knew we couldn’t afford. Max was addicted to their baklava.”

“Did something happen to your boss?”

“No,” she said, grateful for it. “I just can’t see him anymore. He wanted to go to the police, but I knew they couldn’t protect him from someone like Blackwater.”

“Ari.” He turned her to him, making her look at him. “I’m not the sort of police you’re used to. My men and I are going to make sure this turns out all right.”

Maybe he would. He certainly seemed to believe it.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” she confessed.

He smiled, a hint of wistfulness in it. “That makes two of us.”

He was beautiful to her then. Ari was pretty, she supposed. She did what she could to make her looks interesting. Adam seemed interested at least. When his fingers slid around her face, his eyes turned heavy and followed them.

“Ready to go home?” he asked.

His voice was husky and—God—the lust that tightened inside her was powerful. It heated and clenched not just her pussy but also every muscle from head to toe.

Ari had thought she was a normal woman when it came to sex, but clearly more than half of her had been asleep until now. She nodded, unable to answer. Adam must have sensed why. His eyes flared at their backs, and he caught her hand in his before turning back toward his house. The part of her that had never had a romantic boyfriend loved how sweet and unthinking the gesture was. Adam liked her, and therefore he held her hand. Of course, the way he squeezed her fingers made her worry she’d combust.

“Where do your parents live?” she asked, fumbling for a distraction.

“They’re dead,” he said. “They worked together in Portal Management. Something went wrong and they were caught in an explosion.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, surprised how much she meant it. “Were you close?”

“Yes.” His fingers tightened on hers again. “I feel lucky for that. They’ve been gone for a couple years.”

His profile was sad but calm. He grieved, but it hadn’t destroyed him. Awareness tugged at her mind. Maybe the loss hadn’t destroyed him, but it had done something.

“You said it’s been a couple years since you had a girlfriend,” she blurted. He turned to her in surprise. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I guess that probably is the reason I haven’t dated anyone seriously. My parents . . . my parents had the kind of relationship people write love stories about. They defied their folks to marry each other, and to go into the work they did. Portal Management is too close to doing magic for most weres. They consider it contrary to our heritage. But my folks felt it was their calling, the way they were meant to serve.”

“Were they good parents?”

“They were wonderful.” Adam wagged his head and laughed. “Sometimes they joked that a cuckoo had snuck me into their nest. We could be pretty different in our attitudes, but as much as they loved each other, they loved me more. They added their love together for me. It was an awesome way to grow up. When they died, it made me think about what I . . . wanted out of life.”

Ari knew he’d meant to say what he wanted out of marriage. She gnawed her lip and looked at the sidewalk, hard pressed to imagine a more different model for the wedded state than the one she’d had. Her parents had been in agreement but not in love—not that she could tell, anyway.

The gulf between her and Adam felt impossibly awkward. They reached the steps of his building and went up them in silence.

“Keys,” he said, letting go of her hand to dig them from his pocket.

Why was watching him work a lock intimate? Despite the confidences they’d just exchanged, this hadn’t been a date. Ari wasn’t heading up these stairs for a good night kiss.

When he opened the door to his apartment, the stillness inside informed her they were alone.

“My aunt and uncle must have taken Ethan home,” he said.

He rubbed the front of his pants legs like he was nervous. The motion drew her attention to his zipper. Adam had an erection. Not a small one either. The pressure of its fullness outlined it clearly against the cloth.

“Sorry,” he said, noting where her slack-mouthed stare had landed. “That fight with Nate got to me. It’s a werewolf thing. Testosterone and all.” He swung the door closed behind them. “I’ll just shut up now.”

She caught his arm to stop him. “That boner isn’t just for Nate. Your fight was a while ago.”

He smiled wryly down at her. “True. Also Nate wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“I do,” she said, and cupped it in both hands.

He let out a sound surprisingly like a purr. His palms slapped the paneled door to either side of her head. Braced then, his hips rolled into her rubbing, causing her pussy to turn molten. “You sure you want to do this?”

Ari dug in harder and sank down to her knees. “You have no idea,” she assured him.

His desire for her must have been stronger than his desire to argue. He helped her with his tab and zipper, then pulled out his cock for her. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him last night. He was big and dark and his swollen veins made her lick her lips. Ten inches might not have been an exaggeration. From her current perspective, he had quite the monolith.

“Your hands are in my way,” she observed.

He made a sound like she was going to kill him. A small clear bead seeped from the opening in his tip. “I don’t want to shove too far in.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll tell you when to hold yourself again.”

She hadn’t meant to call him honey. Hoping he hadn’t noticed was probably futile. Since he didn’t comment, she could pretend it was no big deal. In any case, the picture he presented was too yummy to turn from. Once he let go, she steadied his shaft herself. She didn’t suck him immediately. Instead, she lapped him, lollipop style, from his pulsing base to his quivering satin tip. His groans were her inspiration, his clenching thigh muscles her best praise. “Do you like your balls played with?”

He grunted in answer and planted his feet wider.

She licked his ball sac and tugged it, then massaged the smoothness behind it with firm fingers. His musky smell flew up her nose, the hint of cedar dilating all her veins. If that weren’t enough of a turn-on, his prick stood more vertical, the freaking Empire State Building of erect penises.

“Please,” he groaned. “Take me in your mouth.”

She didn’t have to remind him to hold himself. He pulled his shaft down from his belly and steered it between her lips. The head was smooth as it breached her, and so hot that if she hadn’t been drooling for him already, she would have then.

“Oh God,” he moaned, pushing carefully. “Ari.”

What was it about grateful guys that flipped her switches so thoroughly? Since he was taking care of the non-deep-throating, she dragged his pants to his knees and worked her fingers into the muscles that were bunching admirably. She sucked him deeper, licking at his grip on the lower part of his shaft.

“Shit,” he gasped, clearly liking that.

His legs were spread too far to pull his cargo pants to his ankles, but she could still drive her hands inside them over his calves. His body rolled as she squeezed them, his sweaty palms squeaking on the door.

“I don’t—” he said, then had to stop when another sensual undulation took hold of him. “I don’t want you to finish me this way.”

He dropped before she could argue, on his knees with her. Their gazes locked, heating her even more. “Lift your arms,” he said gutturally.

She lifted, and he pulled the borrowed sweatshirt over her head. She was bare beneath it, going braless usually not a big thing for her.

It was a big thing for him. He palmed her and groaned, plucking her nipples with his fingers until she thought she might come from that. He didn’t give her a chance.

“On the floor,” he said, already pushing her down.

Her jeans were halfway down her legs before her brain remembered she ought to be stopping him. “Wait.”

He pulled off her socks and bent to kiss her hipbone. “I know,” he said. “I won’t. Condoms are only about seventy percent effective for weres, and maybe sixty for alphas.”

Only sixty for alphas? Did that mean he was even manlier than his detectives?

“You’re not—” She started panting as her cotton panties went the way of her socks. His big hot hand slid deliciously up her thigh. Boy, it was hard to think. “If we start this, you’re not going to want to stop.”

“I will anyway.”

He kissed her into silence, which she discovered she didn’t mind at all. As he lowered his weight to her, she realized he was naked too. Oh shit, she thought, because he felt so good. He was big and hard and her hands wanted to play all over him. His chest was hairy, his butt amazingly tight and small. She moaned like she didn’t think she ever had in her life. His cock dug into her thigh like a hot baton, leaking excitement. She was going to be the one who had to be told to stop.

She had a sneaking suspicion he pulled the thought from her head. He flashed a grin and rolled her on top of him. His entryway had a plush dark rug, cushioning for her knees. She pushed up and her hands found his heavy pecs, unable to resist kneading into them like a cat. He was as sensual as a cat himself. His eyes glowed up at her, his incisors jutting lower than his other teeth.

“This is nuts,” she said, her voice more breath than sound. “There are so many reasons we shouldn’t be doing this.”

He seemed perfectly happy to ignore good sense. His hold settled on her hips tightly enough to stir an extra thrill. “Rub you labia up my dick,” he growled. “Your hands as well. I want all the pressure you can give me.”

Ari’s arousal ran out in a big hot gush. She fell to him and kissed him, writhing against him crazily. That made him moan, and then they both went a little nuts. He got one hand between them, causing a little rubbing war with hers. When his thumb found her clit and mashed firmly over it, she stopped struggling and let him take precedence. She was so wet they had to work really hard against each other to get enough friction.

“Oh God,” he groaned, his fangy mouth stretching wide on her neck.

“Do it,” Ari said. “Bite me. You’re not going to freak me out.”

“Can’t,” he gasped, and groaned louder.

She got his big blunt tip right against her clit, then curled two fingers under his rim on the other side. He stiffened and shoved at her.

“Shit,” he said. “Too close.”

She didn’t want to move. She wanted to come with him pressing there, like a fucking plum that was going to burst.

“Okay,” he panted, seeing she was determined. “I’ll hold off until you go. Just try to do it fast.”

The idea that he was struggling did her in. She went with a wailing keen, but coming wasn’t enough. Her body wanted to feel him shoot, no matter how risky the closeness was. She ground down so wildly she might have hurt him. He grunted in reaction but didn’t ejaculate—not even when she came for, like, three minutes.

He was trembling as she finished, eyes screwed shut with erotic agony, blood trickling from his lip where he’d bitten it. Knowing she damn well owed him, she didn’t wait until her muscles recovered. She crawled down his heaving body, combed through his pubic curls with her fingers, and took his throbbing prick in her mouth. This must have felt good to him. His hips came all the way off the rug.

The sound he made wasn’t a word or a growl. She grasped his root and suckled, giving him everything she had, her tongue, her lips, until she could taste how close he was. The fearlessness of her methods broke him. His hands forked into her hair like claws, his cock shoving into her and thrusting between her tongue and palate. He didn’t go too far, but, man, he went fast and furious. She cradled him as well as she could. Maybe ten groaning seconds later, he started shooting straight down her throat.

He came like she had. Like the world was ending, and this was his last chance. Wild noises tore from his throat, her name jumbled among them. She sucked him until he stopped pumping, then gently licked the last drop from him. She didn’t think she’d ever done that, or enjoyed it so much. He tasted good to her, her own special sex dessert.

“God,” he said as she crawled back up beside him.

She couldn’t do anything but hold him while they both tried to catch their breath.

“Mm,” he finally said, recovered enough to stroke his hand down his spine.

The petting felt really nice. Ari wanted to fall asleep, just let down her guards and sink. Knowing that wasn’t a good idea, she rubbed her face across his chest hair instead. Maybe in a while they could do that again.

“Why didn’t you bite me?” she asked. “Would it have hurt me too much?”

“Not exactly.” He trailed out a lengthy breath. “It hurts some, but most weres who do it think the pain’s a turn on.”

“Then why hold back?”

His hand caressed a path to her butt. “Biting to draw blood links lovers together, until one of them changes form again. It makes . . . their attraction to each other contagious. If I were aroused, you’d be too.”

Ari smiled against his pec. “That’s already happening.”

His amazing body shifted under her. “It would happen more intensely. It’s not usually a good idea unless a couple is . . . comfortable with each other.”

By comfortable she was pretty sure he meant serious, like his parents had been. Which why would he be about her? Or vice versa? She wasn’t here to find Mr. Right. Even if she had been, she didn’t believe in that. Lovers came and went. Friends were for keeping, if you were lucky. Just because Adam got her hotter than any man ever had didn’t make him her forever pal. Men like him didn’t stick by women like her that long. Nobody stuck by women like her. To think they would was like a dog asking to be kicked.

Despite her thoughts, when Adam groaned and sat up, she wished he’d kept on holding her.

“We need to shower,” he said.

She didn’t think he meant together.

Chapter Six

“DON’T be nervous,” Adam said.

This was interesting advice, considering how jittery he was. The yellow cab had dropped them in front of a Greek temple sort of building. Three tiers of marble steps ascended to a grand facade, which resembled the Metropolitan Museum, thanks to its towering columns. The white stone that clad it appeared to glow—and possibly did—in the rosily setting sun.

“This is City Hall?”

“Central Library,” Adam said, pointing out the chiseled letters that stretched across the triangular pediment.

A large shape glided toward the roof and landed, probably a gargoyle. When Ari squinted, she thought she saw more dark heads and wings roosting there.

“The Mayor is also our Librarian,” Adam said.

The way he said “Librarian” made it sound important. Even uttering the title had rattled him. He tugged his nice sport coat straighter and buttoned it, after which he resettled his shoulders and started up the steps. Ari’s shorter legs had to work to keep up.

“Will he have you fired if he doesn’t like your request?”

“No,” Adam said, his expression going even more uptight.

Ari decided to shut up. Adam had borrowed a dress for her from Ethan’s mother, Maria. Fortunately, it was lightweight. She didn’t sweat it up too much climbing all those steps.

She was used to public buildings having security, but no guards were posted behind the revolving entrance door. Maybe nobody dared intrude here without permission, or maybe the library was protected magically. Ari’s skin was tingling as they went in.

“This way.” Adam directed her up yet another flight of white steps.

The Central Library seemed abandoned. They passed no one but a few giant old paintings—classical scenes of nymphs and gods who were up to no good. The Mayor’s office was on the second floor. A figure eight lying on its side was the only identification on the frosted glass in its door. The faint flowery smell Ari had noticed everywhere in Resurrection was stronger here. It wasn’t cleaning fluid or perfume. Here, outside the office, a whiff of woods and grass joined the flowers.

Adam filled his lungs for courage and knocked lightly on the door.

It swung open without anyone touching it.

“Come,” said a low male voice.

Ari’s knees threatened to buckle. She didn’t know why. The voice was pleasant but ordinary, as was the man who sat behind the battered schoolteacher’s desk inside. He shut the file he’d been reading and smiled at them. He seemed young for a mayor. Thirties maybe, with short brown hair and crinkling eyes. His jaw was strong, his nose slightly crooked. He gestured them toward guest chairs that hadn’t been in front of his desk a moment before.

When Adam caught Ari’s elbow, she found she could walk after all.

The room they entered was on the smallish side, with pale blue walls, no carpet on the floorboards, and one tall uncurtained window behind the desk. Its glass was frosted too, the light that glimmered through it milky. Low bookshelves lined the side walls, their contents sparse and dusty. The space was very plain, hardly decorated at all.

“So nice to see you again,” the Mayor said to Adam, rising to shake his hand.

“Sir,” Adam responded. When the Mayor let go, Adam rubbed his palm against his pants leg like maybe he’d got a shock.

“Would you like to?” the Mayor asked her, his arm extended in offering.

Ari didn’t look at Adam. She was an independent agent. She didn’t need his permission or guidance. If she secretly wanted it, that was her problem. She let the man they’d come to meet clasp her hand.

The instant his skin touched hers, she knew damn well there were more than eight levels on the magical measuring scale. Power thrummed against her at the contact, so immense and yet so gentle she might have doubted it was there. Planets would rotate backwards for power like that, and maybe whole galaxies. She rocked back on her heels after he let go.

“I guess I know how you won the election,” she burst out.

Adam inhaled sharply beside her, but the Mayor laughed and sat. “I try not to cheat. Sometimes it’s difficult.”

She sat herself, and Adam did as well.

“Ari,” said the Mayor, though she was relatively certain her name hadn’t been mentioned. “I like visitors. New blood is interesting.”

“I’m glad you think so.” This was honest, but probably impolite. At least Adam didn’t gasp this time.

The Librarian’s eyes were a strange color, not quite gray and not quite silver. They seemed to shift as she looked into them, like an optical illusion to make you think you were falling. What the hell sort of creature was he? One of the fae who’d built the city? A demon? Something even more peculiar?

He met her regard patiently, as if he were accustomed to being stared at. Belatedly, Ari realized that whatever she was sensing behind his gaze, he’d be reading much more in hers.

With a decided effort, she wrenched her attention to her hands, which she’d clenched in her lap. Her fingers were slippery from sweating.

“I have your warrant,” the city official said, though thankfully not to her. He slid the manila folder he’d been perusing across his desk to Adam. “I also took the liberty of calling the Gargoyle Council. They’re waiting to talk to you on the roof.”

Adam took the folder and rose stiffly. “Thank you, sir.”

Since their interview seemed to be over, Ari pushed up too. Some impulse made her bow to the Mayor before she left, though neither mayors nor librarians were royalty. His eyes met hers one more time.

“Good luck,” he said softly.

She had to be imagining what she saw in his expression. Totally scary dude though he was, he seemed sorry to see them go.

Adam wasn’t sorry to leave.

“Jesus,” he said, settling his coat again once the door swung shut. “God help me if I ever get used to that.”

With strides so brisk she had to run to keep up, he led her to the next set of stairs. To her relief, he slowed as he went up them.

“What is he?” she asked in an undertone.

Adam shook his head tightly. “Better not to ask, I suspect.”

Ari couldn’t help agreeing any more than she could help being curious.

~

Adam’s occasional meetings with the Mayor tended to leave his bones shaking in their sockets. He couldn’t put his finger on why the man terrified him. The Mayor had never harmed Adam or his pack. His many terms leading the city were unsullied by scandal. Benevolence and fairness seemed to be his bywords. No one Adam knew hated him, regardless of their species.

Nonetheless, before he could push the roof access door open, Adam had to wipe a sheen of sweat from his face.

A flock of silent gargoyles awaited them outside. He’d never had a formal meeting with their Council. The Police Commissioner was the person who handled that. Adam held the metal door for Ari, whose steps out onto the roof were a bit unsure. She walked close enough to his side to reach out and touch but not so close she’d appear to be cowering. Adam gave her props for nerve. Everything she’d experienced this evening was new to her.

When they were a car’s length distant from the front gargoyle, Adam touched Ari’s arm to let her know she should stop.

Gargoyles were unnerving to be close to. The youngest could be two or three times human size. The oldest only looked small from street level. The huge gargoyles who’d saved the cars from the Washington Street Bridge disaster had probably hit the five century mark. Though they were flesh, their uniform gray coloration caused them to look like stone. Only their irises were different hues. If they were motionless or sleeping, they were difficult to distinguish from statues. From what Adam knew of their culture, amongst themselves they communicated telepathically. When using spoken language they were less adept, though—as a rule—they were highly intelligent.

The particular gargoyle who faced him—the Council’s leader, he presumed—had a bovine head attached to a lioness’s torso. Her wings were feathered and folded gracefully on her back. Some sort of tail swished behind her as she inclined her great stony head to him. Limned by the fading light, her outline was as big as a city bus.

“Greetings, werewolf,” she said in a voice like millstones turning.

“Greetings, ma’am,” Adam responded respectfully, knowing gargoyles weren’t big on titles—or names, for that matter. “I appreciate you agreeing to speak to me.”

Beside him, Ari bobbed an awkward curtsey.

The Council leader’s head swung around to face her. “My son talk you.”

A smaller gargoyle shambled out from behind her bulk. He was only as large as a minivan. He lifted his lion’s paw in a friendly wave, his broad goblin’s mouth grinning. The gargoyles who flew might have any sort of animal wings. His were those of a bat, but no less graceful than his mother’s.

“He sorry scream,” said she, sounding disapproving of her son’s behavior.

“That’s okay,” Ari assured her. “I was only startled. I feel honored he said hello.”

“Hmph,” said the matriarch.

Her son ducked his head to hide what Adam suspected was a mischievous smile.

“Ma’am,” Adam said. “Before we start, might I ask you to look at a few pictures? They’re Talents from Outside who have disappeared. We’re wondering if any of the gargoyles noticed them doing magic here.”

Unsure how to hand the sketches over to a being with paws so large, Adam pulled them from his pocket and spread them across the roof in front of her. Only the gargoyle leader looked at them, but only she needed to.

“We sorry,” she said after a few moments. “No see these.”

Though he knew the people in the pictures might have family or friends, Adam didn’t ask if she was sure, just gathered up the printouts and shoved them away again. An instinct he couldn’t have traced beyond knowing it was wolfish told him his introduction of an unexpected topic was a faux pas. He shut his mouth and waited.

After a pause to consider him, the Council leader folded her lion’s forelegs one over the other. “Mayor say you disguise.”

“Yes,” Adam confirmed, relieved he hadn’t thrown a permanent wrench in their negotiations. “I need to be mistaken for a Talent from the world outside our borders. If you’d consent to enhance my small gift temporarily, that would be helpful.”

The giant gargoyle blinked at him. “What trade you?”

This Adam was prepared for. “I and two of my friends own a building on Alchemist’s Way. Would your people be interested in landing rights?”

A stir rustled through the flock. Gargoyles might land anywhere casually, but how long they were allowed to stay depended on the property owner’s tolerance for their race. Landing rights gave them access for the term of an agreement.

“It’s a good strong building,” Adam added. “Depending on the size of the gargoyle, the roof could easily support three or four.”

“Your friends law also?”

Adam repressed his smile at the leader’s question. Policemen fascinated gargoyles, perhaps because of their own affinity for protecting and serving. “They are police detectives,” he said gravely.

The Council leader twisted back toward her son. Their matching tails twitched as they stared at each other, engaged in a communication Adam hoped would come out in his favor. When the lead gargoyle’s attention returned to him, he was unable to decipher her alien expression.

“Would like nest rights,” she said. “One gargoyle only. One hundred years.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up. Nesting rights were a big commitment. Essentially, the gargoyle would take up residence on his roof. It wasn’t permitted to make itself a nuisance, but it also couldn’t be shooed away without taking the case to court.

“Your son would be the nester?” he asked, wanting to be clear.

The smaller lion-bodied gargoyle nodded, his yellow eyes bright with interest. His goblin face wasn’t as hard to read as his mother’s. Adam thought he perceived a hint of shy eagerness, like a high school freshman who longed to hang out with a quarterback. That could end up being annoying but, considering what he was asking, the request was reasonable.

“Agreed,” Adam said.

The lion-bodied gargoyle let out a little crow.

His mother’s slapping tail silenced it.

~

Ari hoped the night wouldn’t get much weirder, but she wasn’t holding her breath. As odd as the Mayor had been, standing on a roof with a dozen gargoyles took the prize for not normal. Not only wasn’t she in Kansas, she was barely in the real world. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. It didn’t help that with the sun gone down, she was freezing in her short-sleeved dress.

Adam and the gargoyle’s matriarch were debating what sort of Talent he ought to impersonate.

“Sight no good,” she said. “You need flash.”

“That would be better,” Adam said politely as if he talked to giant stone people every day. “But don’t you need to build on a gift that’s already there?”

The lady gargoyle spread her feathered wings proudly. “Twelve here. Much magic. Pick any gift.”

“Wait,” interrupted the boy gargoyle, the one who’d gotten permission to live on Adam’s roof. “Girl cold.”

“Oh,” Adam said, spinning around to her. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

Before Ari could decide if she was embarrassed, Adam had his dark sport coat whipped around her shoulders. Once she was in it, no way would she let it go. The silk-lined cloth was warm from his body. And it smelled just like him.

Adam bent to look into her eyes. “You hanging in, sweetheart?”

“F-firebug,” she said through her chattering teeth. “Henry Blackwater loved the one he used to have. He was always having him burn up things. After he disappeared, he never could find another one.”

“Hm,” mused the head gargoyle. “Fire-starting big flash gift.”

“And a hard gift to control,” Adam said.

“Hah!” barked the lady gargoyle. “You hot practice much!”

Apparently, the telepathic version of this joke was hilarious. The formerly silent gargoyles burst into thunderous laughter. Ari grinned herself. Unless she misunderstood, Hot Cop’s sex appeal was apparent across species.

The sight of Adam blushing like a schoolboy didn’t lessen her amusement. That he didn’t know how to respond was obvious. Seeing his dilemma, the lady gargoyle’s cow face appeared to smile. “No worry, werewolf,” she said, her crunching voice actually sounding kind. “We give just-right power. First, though, you bite girl.”

“Uh.” Adam glanced at Ari and back to the gargoyle. “Me bite girl?”

The lady gargoyle made shooing motions with her front paws. “You bite girl. Two for one.”

“My mother wants you two to entwine your energy,” her son interjected in perfectly intelligible English. “If you form a moon bond, the Eunuch will be more likely to take you both. He won’t even realize why he wants to.”

His mother stomped the roof so hard with one back paw that a crack formed in the concrete.

“Sorry,” said her son, though he didn’t seem very. “I’m just trying to move this along.”

She glowered at him, which—considering her size—would have made Ari quail. Her son held firm. After a few more heartbeats, she turned her great brown eyes to Adam. “You bite girl,” she said stubbornly.

Adam looked helplessly at Ari. A pulse beat in his neck, visible in the rooftop security lights. The quickened rhythm told her he was only part reluctant. Another part of him longed to do exactly what the head gargoyle demanded.

Feeling very much the same, Ari shrugged under his jacket. “Who am I to argue? If that’s what we need to do, you bite girl.”

~

Ari’s eyes were nervous, though—like his—her respiration was coming more shallowly. Adam dragged one hand down his mouth, where the throbbing length of his fangs reminded him how intensely he wanted to go along with this.

Hoping he was thinking clearly, he reached for Ari’s wrist.

“We need to speak alone,” he said over his shoulder to the head gargoyle. “I promise we won’t be long.”

“We wait,” she said. A second later, she and her compadres had settled into such stillness they could have been statues.

Aware that this was as private as they were going to get, Adam tugged Ari a bit too fast into the stairwell. She stumbled as the heavy door clanged shut. Adam caught her, then slid his hands under his jacket to frame her waist. This wasn’t likely to help either of them make a rational decision, but at that moment he couldn’t not touch her.

Her hands came to his chest and stayed there.

“I’m not sure we have a choice about this,” she said.

The stairwell’s landing was lit by a single bulb, which illuminated her upturned face. With the rose-pink flush in her cheeks, Ari looked more innocent than ever.

“I want this too much,” he said, using all his self-control not to pant.

“Are you afraid you’re going to hurt me?”

“I’m afraid I’ll shove up your dress and fuck you into this cinderblock. From behind,” he added. “With my fangs sunk into your nape like a dog.”

Her baby blue eyes widened. “O-kay,” she said slowly.

“Don’t fucking say okay. My dick is so hard it’s about to burst. I want this too much to do it nice.”

Her hands slid to his shoulders and back to his chest muscles. His yellow button-down business shirt was no barrier to pleasure. Waves of hot sensation rolled directly from her caresses into his groin.

“Who says you have to do it nice?” she asked, just about slaying him.

“Ari, I don’t have protection. I think—” He didn’t want to get into this, but he kind of had to. It wasn’t like he could keep denying it. “You may have noticed you and I have out of the ordinary chemistry. I think you might be my mate.”

“Like your soul mate?” Her nose wrinkled unsurely.

Yes, said the irrational corner of his mind. “Like my genetic mate,” his mouth corrected. “The . . . a woman who’d have healthy babies if I got her pregnant. If I take you in this stairwell, feeling the way I do, I’m not letting you leave until you’ve got a womb full of my puppies.”

Her touch fell from him. “Oh,” she said.

God, it shouldn’t have hurt him. They’d just met. No matter what his hormones were clamoring for him to do, he shouldn’t be thinking about her having his children. To his dismay, she must have seen what he felt in his expression. She pressed her hands to her mouth.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please. This is not an insult to you. I don’t think any man has ever thought of me as . . .” She trailed off and shook her head. “You have to understand. Taking care of myself is more than I can manage sometimes.”

Her worried eyes eased the blow to his pride somewhat. He stroked his finger around the shell of her ear.

“Just do it quick,” she suggested. “Don’t give yourself a chance to lose control.”

Adam groaned. She so didn’t understand what this would be like. “If you think it’s hard for us to resist each other now . . .”

“We can do it. We’ll just focus on our priorities. And it’s not like there aren’t other ways to fool around besides intercourse.”

He knew there were. They just wouldn’t be what their instincts would be screaming for them to do. He looked into her big hopeful eyes and sighed. She was right about one thing. They really didn’t have a choice.

“Turn around,” he said gruffly, though he wasn’t certain if the change in position would make his inevitable struggle better or worse. “I want you facing the wall for this. And take off my jacket first. Trust me, I’ll keep you warm.”

She removed the garment, folding it carefully before setting it on the floor. His dick hardened even more at her actions, the tip leaking through his jock. When she flattened her hands on the dull white paint of the cinderblock, her palms level with her shoulders, arousal stabbed up his shaft.

“Like this?” she asked breathlessly.

Her little killer body was a shadow inside the thin flowered dress. He licked his upper lip between his lengthened canines, his lust for her savage. She’d arched her buttocks out just a bit. He wondered if she knew what that did to him.

“That’s perfect,” he said hoarsely.

He stepped right up behind her, then growled, then shoved his throbbing front up and down her in one long rub.

“Oh God,” he gasped, because it felt so good. Her spiky platinum hairstyle left her nape bare and vulnerable. Adam pressed his nose to it and groaned. “I’m going to come in my pants the second I bite down.”

“Unzip,” she said, one hand slapping back onto his insane hard-on. His spine rolled when she squeezed it. “Unzip and come in my hand.”

Cursing, he wrenched the casual trousers open, tore his dick from his jock, and trapped her hand around him. He made her rub him, though clearly she wasn’t inclined to resist. The dominant in him needed to exert force.

Grunting at the pleasure that wasn’t quite enough, he thrust both their bodies toward the wall. “I want in you, Ari. I want to fuck your pussy.”

“Bite me instead,” she panted, her body writhing under his.

He yanked up her dress and shoved his second hand down the front of her panties. Her curls were soft, her labia hot and wet. Finding her so ready drew another terrible groan from him.

“Bite me,” she repeated throatily.

“I want to fuck you. I want to be in you.”

He worked her hand along his cock with the same heightened speed that he rubbed her wet plump clit. Maybe he could save them if he pumped hard enough. Maybe he could save the world. He felt Ari racing toward release as fast as he was, her pelvis working jerkily in his hold.

“Adam,” she moaned, tipping her neck forward, exposing it more for him. “Please, Adam. Please bite me.”

He drew his tongue up the silken perspiring skin. The hormones in her sweat slammed him, locking little keys into his. He’d never felt anything like it, not with any of his lovers. His testicles tightened even as they got heavier. He wanted her enough to lose his mind.

Biting her had been an even worse idea than he’d realized.

Naturally, every cell in his body demanded he go ahead.

“Christ,” he cursed as his fangs slid a fraction longer. Both sets were out, lower and upper. Ari was too gone to notice, straining on the cusp of her orgasm. The knowledge shoved him right to the edge with her.

His jaw seemed to widen by itself. Unable to stop, he turned his head to clamp it around her nape. The scent of her excitement rose. She shuddered, he licked . . .

Then he let all four teeth break skin.

They came in a simultaneous firing of instantly conjoined nerves. Her blood hit his tastebuds and he shot harder. Werewolves had a vestige of the bulbus glandis, a sphere of extra erectile tissue at the base of their penises. It wouldn’t tie them to their partners like real canines, but it did activate when males were near a female with whom they’d be fertile. Adam’s gave an agonizing throb of pleasure as what felt like a gallon of seed pumped from him, ejecting fast enough to burn him from the inside. A second later, Ari’s cream spurted over his fingers, as if praising what he’d done. Praise was hardly necessary. The climax was quick and hot and so intense it almost drove him to his knees.

Unbelievable though it was, the orgasm ended about a year too soon. Adam could have gone with her like that forever. He was limp when he pulled himself from her hold, but somehow that didn’t quell his yearning.

Ari sagged to the wall with both palms braced on it again.

He had a hard time forcing his jaw to unclamp.

“You okay?” he asked, afraid to touch her again.

She nodded, then sighed and turned around. She pressed one hand to the back of her neck where he’d bitten her. “I think I’m still bleeding.”

“If I lick it, it will heal faster.”

Her gaze held his. “I could do it myself. My gift can heal simple injuries.”

“Please let me,” he said softly.

She hesitated, then dropped her hand and presented her nape to him.

The mark was unsettlingly beautiful to him, a reddened ring of teeth with four slight punctures. The cuts only bled a little. His saliva had already healed them partially. Standing close behind her, he traced the circle he’d left on her with gentle thumbs. It gave him great satisfaction that her shoulders relaxed.

“Would you mind if I left the bruises?” he asked. “They’ll tell people you’re . . . with me until next moon.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly.

Her caressing voice sent goosebumps across his skin. He kissed her before he licked her, and when he licked her, he felt as if his tongue were saying I love you. He couldn’t fight the emotion, even if the words stayed inside. Perhaps it was a product of their situation, of hormones or stress. It didn’t matter. For that moment, his heart was hers.

He kept his hands on her upper arms until the wounds were closed.

“Thank you,” he said, feeling the gratitude to his bones.

She turned and looked up at him wide-eyed. She touched his lower lip with her fingertips. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I know it’s hard for you to let people be nice to you. I know you don’t trust them to stay that way.”

She blinked, sudden moisture glittering in her eyes. “Adam—”

He stepped back before she could voice whatever warning she seemed about to make. “We should return to the roof. The gargoyles will be waiting to do their ritual.”

Her gaze dropped when she nodded, and then a little smile tugged her mouth. “Um,” she said, “I think you’d better put your power tool away first.”

~

Considering the exciting lead-in, Ari found the ritual itself anticlimactic. The gargoyles circled Adam as he stood in the center of the library roof. Without a word, they lifted their wings together, closed their eyes, and went stonelike. The only sign that something was happening was a shimmering in the air, like gas fumes rising from asphalt. Adam hissed in a breath as a pale blue fire sprung to life around his wrists. He held his hands out in front of him, turning them back and forth, but the glow didn’t seem to burn. It guttered out after a minute, and the gargoyles’ wings rustled down.

“Done,” said the matriarch. “You sleep. Tomorrow flower bloom.”

Ari was still enjoying a private snigger at the thought of the big bad wolf with a flower in him.

“Cut it out,” Adam said, holding the yellow cab’s door for her.

She slid into the back seat biting her lip. Adam followed and slammed the door. The boy gargoyle was a hulk on the library steps, having arranged to fly home with them. Their cabbie looked up as he took off, but didn’t flinch otherwise.

Just an ordinary city sight, she supposed.

Adam gave the driver his address, then slid the privacy window closed. The simple act made her pussy squirm, though what he said next wasn’t terribly sexy.

“I stuck your depowering charm in my coat pocket. You should put it on again.”

With an inward sigh, Ari dug it out from behind his folder and dropped the chain back around her neck. The silvery gold medal nestled between her breasts. The hum she’d almost stopped noticing quieted.

Adam grunted in approval and sat back on the black seat. Seeming immune to the night’s lower temperature, he’d rolled up his cuffs. His palms rested on his thighs, the marks the gargoyles left ringing his strong wrists. They resembled good quality tattoos: eye-catching red and orange flame bracelets, like you might have custom painted on a motorcycle. Adam was holding them as if they needed to dry.

“Do they hurt?” she asked.

He shook his head. “They’re just tingling.”

“Did the ritual feel weird?”

“It hardly felt like anything. I’m hoping it actually did something.”

“Maybe the gargoyles are like the Mayor. You know, so much mojo they don’t have to shove it in your face.”

“They’re the Eights,” he said. He shifted on the seat to face her. “On the Bunscombe Scale.”

His legs were long enough that his knee bumped hers. Ari tried to pretend the contact didn’t make her tingle. “That makes sense. Since they invented it.”

Adam curled his hands into fists, then forced them to relax. “Most people postulate that faeries are Tens.”

“And you’re sure the Mayor isn’t one?”

“I’ve met fae.” The flattened line of his lips suggested it hadn’t been an undiluted pleasure. “Purebloods are both more beautiful and more aloof than him. They’re like the Parisians of Resurrection. They don’t let you forget who built this place.”

Ari smiled at the analogy. Adam stared at her.

“I would kill,” he breathed, “to have your mouth on me now.”

He shifted on his haunches, his once again fisted hands rubbing up and down his thighs. A giant hard-on bulged up between them, pulling the cloth of his slacks tight across his lap.

Ari’s nipples beaded so fast they stung.

“Crap,” he said, twisting so he sat facing front again. “I knew this would be hell.”

He might have known, but the immensity of the lust that seized her took Ari by surprise. He’d warned her their desires would become contagious. He hadn’t said it would be a tidal wave of longing. She didn’t need his jacket to warm her. She broke into a sweat just from thinking about making love to him. She’d happily have done it in this cab, just yank down his zipper and straddle him. He’d be thick and hot, and he’d thrust into her really far. It would be heaven. She thrust and grind and thrust and grind until they screamed with pleasure.

“Ari,” Adam said in a strangled tone. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

She blinked out of her daydream to look at him. The muscles of his face were tight, and his nostrils flared with quick breathing. “Oh my God, did you read my thoughts?”

“No,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m just feeling what they did to you.”

She blushed as hot as he usually did. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Maybe think about the weather instead.”

She meant to, but ended up picturing him sunning naked on a tropical beach, his long muscular body sprawled in sensual abandon across the sand. His skin would be brown, his graceful legs fuzzed with hair. The throbbing rod that thrust from his groin would be a thousand times more tempting than a drink with an umbrella.

“Ari,” Adam complained, gripping his knees white-knuckled.

She bit her lip and tried to wrestle her imagination under control. Her labia were swollen, and her clit felt like it swam in hot cream, its steady pulse rolling up into her pussy. Could a person come from a pulse, or was that wishful thinking? Her insides needed something to rub against, something thick and warm to stretch their walls and pump between them really hard . . .

“Crap,” she said, echoing him. She snuck a look at him and saw his face had broken into a sweat. His gorgeous mouth looked like it was covering fangs. “How long are we going to feel like this?”

Without turning to her, he grasped her hand and squeezed. “Oh, only until the next full moon forces me to turn. Or until we do something about it. That’ll make us feel better for a bit.”

A bit was better than nothing. Grateful for his hold, even if in some ways it made things worse, Ari returned the grip of his fingers. The next time she glanced at his profile, he was smiling a little.

She realized she wouldn’t have wanted to feel this sex-crazed with anyone but him.

~

The fifteen minute cab ride to Adam’s house gave them both a chance to calm down. Once there, Adam went up to the roof to meet the gargoyle, to show him around and help him do whatever gargoyles did to set up housekeeping.

Seeing how excited he’d been to live here made Ari regret screaming like a banshee the previous night.

She returned to her room. Well, not her room, but certainly the nicest she’d ever stayed in. It was just right, she thought, with its granny chair and its hand-stitched quilt. Flea market-type paintings hung on the walls in cheap frames. She saw street scenes of city life in Resurrection, three wolves who might have been Adam’s relatives, and one picture of a big blue moon reflected in a lake. None of the paintings were sophisticated, but all stirred her emotions. Ari felt like she was peering into the window of a house she wished she were invited to.

“Maria paints those,” Adam said. “They make Ethan feel more at home when he sleeps over.”

Ari turned and found him leaning in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and the pose made his shoulders appear incredibly broad. His slightly shaggy hair fell over one eyebrow. Ari struggled not to focus too hard on how good he looked.

“Is the gargoyle settled?” she asked.

“For now. He asked us to call him Grant, by the way. He said he chose the name to be easy to remember.”

Adam’s grin called up one from her. “Grant the gargoyle?”

“Yes. From his mother’s reaction, I gather he’s considered eccentric.”

Ari knew how that was. “Were you ever?”

He rubbed one foot on the threshold. “Was I ever what?”

“Eccentric.”

“Ah. Not so much. Because my parents were, I think being normal was my way of rebelling.”

She realized her hands were twisted together with nervousness.

As she drew breath to speak Adam moved, shoving his hair back from his forehead. “Look, Ari. Maybe this is presumptuous, but I stopped in the corner store after I talked to Grant.”

He pulled something from his pocket: a small embroidered bag that was folded into a flat roll and then tied with red satin cord. The bundle looked pretty but inexpensive, like a mini-gift from an import store. When he held it out, she took it. Chinese characters she couldn’t read mostly covered its ornate label. The English letters at their center spelled out Tiger!

“I’m afraid I don’t know what this is,” she said.

Adam’s cheeks went pink. “They’re enchanted condoms.”

Ari burst out laughing, which caused him to turn redder. “I’m sorry!” she said through her snorts. “I’m sure it’s a cultural thing. That just sounds so funny to me. And the brand is Tiger! Don’t they have any Wolf!?”

“Tiger! is the best,” he said grumpily. “They come in more sizes, and they’re 99 percent effective—even for alphas.”

Ari pressed her hand over her giggles.

“You wouldn’t think it was funny if you’d spent two weeks’ salary on six rubbers.”

“Sorry,” she said, her amusement receding. “Really? Two weeks? That’s very flattering.”

“I thought—” He dropped his gaze to his feet, which were clad in black dress socks. His toes bunched and straightened on the floor. When he looked up again, his soft green eyes glowed from the inside. “I thought it would make things easier if we had actual sex before we laid ourselves out as bait. Once we’re undercover, we’re bound to be watched closely. You do want to have actual sex, don’t you?”

Oh, she could fall for a man like him.

“I want to,” she said.

His eyes darkened and then flared brighter. “Good.” His gaze slid to her breasts and he wet his lips. “Good.”

Taking the hint, she began undoing the front of the flowered dress, which had buttons all the way down. “I do have a condition.”

“What?” he asked hoarsely, his gaze now glued to her hands.

“You get naked for this too.”

She’d never seen a man undress so quickly. Of course, Adam wasn’t just any man. He was a werewolf with supernatural strength and speed. She dropped the simple dress to her ankles as his last sock went flying behind him into the hall. The only thing he wore then was his saint medal.

Ari was trembling in all the right places.

“God,” he said. “Ari.”

He came toward her like a man with a serious do-or-die mission, his cock bouncing thick and red before him.

“Wait,” she said, her breath gone short and her pulse pattering in her throat. “Give a girl a chance to admire the view.”

He groaned, but he stopped a full stride away from her.

“Half a minute,” she promised, moving to circle him. Oh, he was pretty. He had a swim trunk tan, his legs brown from the sun, his butt white and high and narrow as its strong cheeks clenched with tension.

“Ari . . .”

“Sh.” She touched the plane between his shoulders to keep him from turning. “Those rubbers aren’t the only things I’m finding enchanting.”

His fingertips dug into his palms, his nails slightly longer than normal. “I need you.”

“And you’ll have me. I only want a few seconds.” She trailed around to his front, where she took in his strong pie-wedge chest. Its cloud of hair narrowed to dive down his belly, then spread around his groin. His six-pack was so shredded it had a few extra cans. His erection was just flat out phenomenal. When she stopped to stroke both thumbs around his navel, the heat of his swollen tip beat back at her like a candle flame.

“You,” she said, “are a very good-looking man.”

“I can’t even describe how beautiful you are. Now could you please take off those damn panties?”

She’d forgotten them in her distraction at seeing him naked. She backed up and sprawled on the bed with her hips at its edge. “You take them off,” she taunted.

He moved to her so fast she gasped. His fingers curled into the waistband above each of her hipbones. Some primitive part of her wanted him to rip them free. Instead, he pulled them slo-owly down her dangling legs. He went to one knee to finish, his eyes burning straight up her reclined body. Ari wasn’t the shyest girl on the planet, but more than her usual was displayed. When she blushed for him, his grin was 100 percent Grade A male.

Gaze still on hers, he took her knees in his hands and pushed them apart.

“You smell hot,” he said.

He went down on her like he had at his kitchen table, only this time it was better. He knew her sweet spots: where they were, how hard to rub or tongue them. He also knew the signs that she was about to come. Twice his talented mouth took her to the brink, and twice he stopped right there.

“Shit,” she gasped the second time he did it, a bit too tempted to yank out his nice thick hair.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, then rose to loom over her on his elbows. He was furnace hot, especially at his groin, which might have been a were thing. He ran his tongue around fully erect canines. “Want me?”

His voice rasped like sandpaper, making her shiver. “You know I do.”

“I want to hear it.”

She ran her hands up his hard torso, fingernails scratching lightly through his hair. “I want you, Adam. I want that big cock of yours shoved up in me to my throat.”

A shudder rolled through his frame. “Do you want it now?”

“Yes, Adam. Please.”

He liked her pleading. His heavy eyelids narrowed his gaze. “Touch yourself first. Rub your juice on me and then roll on the condom.”

She jerked, because she’d forgotten the blinking thing. She’d have ridden him bareback without a second thought.

Adam smiled knowingly. “Touch yourself,” he said again.

For him, she did it, though she was reluctant to put the private act on show. He must have liked shy girls, because her hesitation only aroused him more.

“That’s it,” he rumbled, pushing up on his hands to watch. Maybe it was her imagination, but the gargoyles’ tattoos seemed to grow brighter. “Work two fingers all the way in.”

This felt good in spite of her self-consciousness. “I’d rather this were you.”

“It will be. Oh yeah.” He fought against his eyes closing. “Deeper. Do it again. Ari, your fingers are so shiny.”

She drew them out to rub the shine on him. He made swallowed noises as she caressed his impressive length. Up his shaft she went, around his flare, back and forth across his sensitive tip. His slit was leaking excitement almost as freely as she was. As long as the moisture was there, she rubbed it around him too.

“Mmm,” he said, his spine wriggling with pleasure. “You petting me is magic.”

She wanted him so much she was starting to vibrate. “Ready for the condom?”

He looked at her and let out a breathy laugh. He must have noticed how hopeful she sounded. “More than. You felt too good rubbing me to stop.”

Aside from their packaging, the Tiger! rubbers had the same construction she was used to. They were big enough for him and appeared to have a generous receptacle tip. He moaned some more while she rolled them down, a process she might have dragged out a bit.

“Bitch,” he laughed when she finished.

“Is that an insult to a werewolf?”

He sank down to rub her nose with his. “Nuh-uh.” He moved one hand between them, his finger searching her furrow before setting his rounded crest in place for entry. Just that felt so incredible her back arched uncontrollably off the bed.

He stretched the arm that had reached between them to the side and got a firm grip on the mattress. “Ready, sweetheart?”

God, he got to her with his endearments. About to combust, she pulled her knees up and set her heels. “Whenever you are,” she panted.

The first long push seemed to last forever. This was a claiming with a capital ‘C.’

“Mmm,” he hummed, going in and in and in. “Oh my God, Ari.”

She gripped his back hard and tried to help. He was huge, but her body wasn’t stopping him. It creamed for him and twitched and tried to suck him farther by tightening. When he was all the way in, he switched the mattress-holding to his left hand and shoved his right underneath her butt. That held her pelvis nice and tight to his. He looked at her, just for a second, the fire in him blazing like the sun.

He had to have felt how ready for this she was. He let go of his control, just rocketed from zero to sixty—as if his cock were a jackhammer.

Ari came the first time in under a minute.

He grunted at her contractions and shoved them both higher on the bed, though his feet were still on the floor. “’gain,” he demanded.

She didn’t quite come on cue, but within the next dozen thrusts. This orgasm was harder than the first. She threw back her head and arched.

“Shit,” he said, going faster and pumping in at a new angle. The bedsprings squeaked like frenetic mice, but she barely noticed. He was pummeling a spot so incredibly sensitive it made her eyes want to cross. The feelings were almost too good to bear. Little helpless wails began breaking in her throat. To judge by the way his face suddenly got darker, her excitement excited him.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “God.”

He crammed into her and held, so obviously ejaculating that it sent her into a bliss of spasms for a third time. Surely this was a record. She was a girl, but usually she needed some recovery time. Still shooting, Adam groaned, pulling his pulsing shaft halfway out and then jamming it in again. Six more times he did this, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to stay as deep as possible inside her or savor the friction. Her pussy certainly was very tight around him, though it didn’t hurt anywhere. Truthfully, she didn’t think its nerves had ever registered so much pure ecstasy.

“Man,” he groaned, pulling out one last time.

He rolled off her onto his back. His hairy calves dangled off the mattress, his eyes covered by one arm. Ari went up on her elbow to enjoy what their energetic screwfest had done to him. Though his cock was still thick enough for the rubber to be secure, the receptacle tip drooped from the weight of the seed in it. Ari was more intrigued by this than she might have been with another man.

“I’m peeling this off,” she said.

Adam grunted, which she took as a yes. She disposed of the condom without spilling, then brought a hot wrung-out washcloth from the bathroom.

“Don’ haff do,” he mumbled, sounding like the gargoyle.

Since Ari was having fun, she cleaned his cock anyway.

“Ow,” he said as she worked the cloth—she thought—gently around his base.

“Sorry,” she said, pulling her hand guiltily away.

Adam blinked sleepy eyes open. “’s okay. You didn’t know I’m sensitive there.”

“Okay, well, I’ll just—”

He caught her wrist before she could move off the bed. “Come back. I’ll show you the spot you hit. You’ll want to see it. It’s big kinky werewolf stuff.”

She laughed. He was getting to know her a bit. She sat again and he pulled his nearly limp cock up along his belly. Even relaxed, it was substantial. “You see that swollen bit at the base?”

She wanted to touch it but wasn’t quite ready to. “Where it’s redder?”

“It’s the werewolf version of a bulbus glandis. It’s mostly vestigial, but it swells up sometimes when we ejaculate. It adds . . . an extra kick to the business, I guess. Makes everything more urgent.”

“But you can’t get stuck in me?”

He shook his head, measuring her reaction to this rather exotic sexual detail. He was still holding up his shaft, his pinkie finger fanning back and forth on the flushed gland thing.

“It can’t feel bad to rub it. You’re doing it a bit now.”

For once, he didn’t blush—probably because she was. “It doesn’t feel bad to rub it. When I’m coming, getting more pressure there feels great.” His eyes darkened. “You were perfect, Ari. Your pussy was so tight on me you nearly sent me out of my mind.”

She remembered how he’d kept thrusting even as he shot. She clenched her hand on the washcloth she’d forgotten she was holding. “Can I kiss it?” she blurted.

The subtle tension in him eased. He smiled and sprawled back for her.

She crawled over him and licked him right where he’d been fingering himself. It seemed natural to cup his balls while she did it, and even more natural to start giving him head when he hardened. She loved the way he moaned for her, the way his body heaved and both sets of fingers kneaded her scalp. He was as sensual as an animal would have been, and she found that incredibly erotic.

He was gentle too, and that just made her chest ache.

When his thighs began to quiver, she knew they’d soon be on to the next course.

“Man,” he said, shoving across her tongue one last time as far as he dared. “Those enchanted condoms aren’t going to last long.”

~

Ari sure knew how to help him regroup. Once she’d brought him up with her mouth, she’d let him take her doggy style, which—not surprisingly—was one of Adam’s favorite positions. His wolf instincts activated, he slammed into her so hard they both had to brace on the headboard. It was a struggle not to let his claws jut out, but he figured he’d given her enough to adjust to. Her responsiveness made him hot all over, her increasing surrender to pleasure. He saved one hand to rub up and down her front: from her sharp-tipped breasts to her rounded belly to the slippery button of her clit. Her cries got looser, her orgasms more intense. He didn’t want to come himself, because the spells on the rubbers were only good for one go. He held back until he shook, then shouted like a berserker as he let loose at last.

She reached under herself to rub him where his gland had swollen up like a crazy mother again. The extra pressure sent him through the roof. He came so hard he stopped breathing, absolute stabs of pleasure bolting up his spasming cock. When the cataclysm finally ended, he gasped for air and moaned.

This spelled the end to his consciousness. He fell asleep like a stone, barely waiting to go under until his face hit the bed. When he woke, hours later, he was curled so tightly around Ari you’d have thought she was trying to escape. Alarmed by that, he returned to his own room.

Chapter Seven

ARI and Adam met up with his team early the next morning, gathering in the alley beside Nate’s loft. Nate had parked their unmarked black response van there. Its double back doors were open as they walked up. Rick, Carmine, and Tony were setting up a listening post in the bay, the various desks and pieces unfolding from compartments inside the walls. Aloof from their bustle, Nate leaned cool as a cucumber on the back fender. He wore a tight black T-shirt, artfully faded blue jeans, and a tailored black leather jacket that filled Ari with envy. The fact that the jacket wasn’t overshadowed by the hotness of the man inside it really said something. As if he knew how fine he looked, he was smugly sipping the contents of a tall Starbucks cup.

Actually, make that Star’s Brew. The logos were so similar the resemblance must have been intentional. Ari guessed Starbucks couldn’t sue for infringement here.

“Got yours, boss,” Nate said, reaching behind him for another cup. “Yours too,” he added to her. “Since I was guessing, it’s a cinnamon cappuccino with two sugars.”

Flattered, which was probably what he’d intended, Ari accepted it. “I like any kind of coffee as long as it isn’t black.”

Nate smiled down at her lazily, clearly pleased with himself. The long black hair he’d combed into a ponytail shone as bright as glass. Ari wondered if his styling products were magical.

Beside her, Adam rumbled out a low growl.

“Sorry, boss,” Nate said cheerfully. “Couldn’t help admiring. I forgot how pretty some girlies look at the crack of dawn.”

Adam muttered something under his breath.

Ari smiled at the lid of her cappuccino. If she looked pretty, it was because Adam had worn her out enough to sleep well.

The memory of him bucking into her from behind tightened her pussy. The hoarse cries he’d made had been arousing and unforgettable—as was the feel of his thick organ. The skillful way he used it was enough to turn any woman into a size queen.

When her tongue went around her lips, it wasn’t only to lick off foam.

“Stop,” Adam said in an undertone, touching the back of her hand lightly.

Ari started. She’d forgotten he could feel her reactions. Before she could apologize, a shadow blocked the sky above them.

“Wait for me,” cried a soft voice from overhead.

They all looked up to see Grant the gargoyle gliding down from above. Between the van and the dumpsters and the fact that Grant was nearly as wide as the alley, landing was a challenge. He did it neatly, tucking his wings so they didn’t scrape the brick walls.

“Grant,” Adam said warningly. “This is police business.”

“I know,” Grant said, his cute goblin’s head bobbing. “The Eunuch is my people’s enemy too.”

Tony had stepped out of the van and was gaping. “It has a name?”

“He,” Grant said, drawing his head higher. “I’m a person just like you.”

Tony looked embarrassed, but Adam believed in rules. “Person or not, you aren’t an RPD officer.”

“I can be useful,” Grant insisted. “No one notices my people. We’re as ordinary as pigeons. I know you’re going undercover. I can be your eye in the sky.”

“He has a point,” Rick said, also stepping from the van. “Even with the wires, he might see things we can’t.”

“I won’t do anything,” Grant promised, sounding as if he were trying not to plead. “I’d just watch over you and report. You can’t deny my people have experience at that.”

Adam dragged one hand down his mouth—his thinking gesture, Ari was learning. “You’ll wear an earpiece,” he said. “You’ll take orders from Rick and obey them to the letter.”

“Agreed,” said the gargoyle, bouncing a tiny bit on his giant paws.

As if already regretting the concession, Adam trailed out a sigh. He waved the other men ahead of him toward the van. Ari saw her presence wasn’t required yet.

“I like your hair painting,” Grant said in a polite aside to her. “That’s a powerful character.”

Ari’s hand went to her pointy platinum locks with their red dyed swirl. “A friend of mine drew this for me. A human friend from Outside. I’m pretty sure it’s just a design.”

“It’s an old rune,” Grant said firmly. “For concentration. It focuses mental powers. Perhaps your friend found it in a book?”

Perhaps he had, though Maxwell hadn’t mentioned it. She was about to ask Grant more when Adam leaned out of the van. “We’re ready for you,” he said.

Ari’s nerves abruptly coiled twice as tight. She hoped she was ready too.

~

After they assured themselves the subdermal bugs were in working order, Nate drove them out to Poughkip where Adam could practice using his new skill. He’d accidentally set his toothbrush on fire that morning, so he knew it was active. Although his cover didn’t require him to be a good firebug, the sanctity of his eyebrows would benefit from him learning to ignite objects on purpose.

They parked in an empty cornfield, out of sight of houses or paved roads. Poughkip was still the Pocket, but it was rural. Rick expressed his faith in his alpha by forcing Adam to don a fire suit. He followed that by setting up a barrier for the others to crouch behind.

“The gargoyles gave me a small gift,” Adam reminded him. “They didn’t turn me into a character from a Stephen King novel.”

“Sure.” Rick handed him a fire-rated helmet. “But better safe than sorry.”

Grant put the icing on the annoyance cake by landing in the stubbled field to watch.

The next half hour was quite possibly the most embarrassing of his life. He tried to concentrate. Then he tried to relax. He visualized different types of fire so vividly his brow broke into a sweat. No matter what he did, he couldn’t raise so much as a spark.

Finally, he yanked off the helmet to take a break. “Crap,” he said. “Maybe I’m only good with toothbrushes.”

Seeing he’d stopped, Grant took two flapping four-footed hops toward him. To Adam’s relief, the gargoyle had been a mute peanut gallery. The way he smiled down at Adam led him to believe Grant wasn’t as young as he’d thought. Gargoyles had long life spans. Maybe youth was relative.

“You’re not entirely off track,” Grant observed pleasantly.

“Do you know what I’m doing wrong?” Adam was desperate enough to ask.

Grant closed his yellow eyes to consider this. “What were you thinking about when you set the toothbrush alight?”

A hint of heat crept into his cheeks. “Um, I was thinking about Ari.”

Grant’s mouth split into a giant grin. “Perhaps you should try thinking of her again.”

Adam had been trying not to think of her, so he could concentrate. Thoroughly sick of the helmet, he tossed it to the ground. Right about now, he was willing to try anything.

“Your hands are your emitters,” Grant said. “The bracelets we put on your wrists are designed to channel your power through them. Stretch them out and, er, maybe thinking about touching Ari somewhere nice.”

Adam stretched out his hands and thought about caressing her pretty breasts.

The power whooshed through his palms like it had been storing up. A patch of dried cornstalks, maybe a foot across, phoomed alight a short distance in front of him. Adam watched the merry flames dance with his jaw hanging.

“Good,” Grant said. “Now slowly, gently, close your fingers again. You want to think cool, cool, cool, and imagine it going out.”

It took two tries, but the fire snuffed out as promised.

“Wow,” Adam said, doubly amazed for having tried and failed at first.

A chorus of cheers broke out from behind the fire barrier.

“Awesome, cuz!” Rick called. “Now do it again.”

~

One he’d picked up the knack, Adam learned quickly. It wasn’t yet noon, and he could set most things he wanted ablaze on the first try. The fires weren’t big, but they’d be enough to catch Henry Blackwater’s eye.

Ari loved watching his face light up each time he succeeded. Alpha responsibilities notwithstanding, Hot Cop had a boyish streak.

She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets to keep from clapping. That morning Adam had returned her clothes. She had a feeling the mysterious Maria had been at them, and that Ethan’s mother was a clean freak. Ari’s oversized white T-shirt was now stain free, the worst rips in her black jeans had been mended, and all her mementos were once more securely fixed to her de-sleeved Yankees jacket. She looked a little too tidy, to be truthful, but was glad to have her own garments back. The way Adam tugged at her, she could use the reminder of who she was and where she came from.

He wasn’t her forever boyfriend. He was her partner for now.

With that in mind, she reminded herself not to take her Yankees jacket on their hunt for Blackwater. No matter what happened with the Eunuch, she wanted her favorite link to happier times to survive unscathed.

“You just need one more item for your disguise,” Tony said. He pulled a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses from the pocket of his gray hoodie.

Adam took them and put them on. Now he looked like a hot egghead.

“So,” he said, mugging for them, “would you mistake me for an Outsider?”

This was when Ari realized she hadn’t seen any people in glasses here.

“Hey,” she exclaimed. “How come none of you guys need them?”

Tony and Rick snickered.

“It’s a citywide school program,” Adam said. “Every kid gets his vision fixed by the elves for free.”

“That’s cool,” Ari said.

Rick and Tony laughed louder.

“There was a scandal some years back,” Nate explained. “A group of high school students were caught using enchanted eyeglasses to cheat on tests.”

“And to surf the net in class,” Tony added. “Even as a youth, I was scoping out guy candy.”

Rick’s laugh trailed off on a sigh. He clapped his brother on the shoulder, but his face was a little sad.

“One other thing,” Carmine said, sounding reluctant to bring it up. Adam’s only married team member was stocky but not fat, his brown curly hair almost as thick on his arms as it was up top. Ari concluded his wife must like bearlike guys.

“What other thing?” Adam asked.

“Uh, well, you marked her,” Carmine said, “and you’re supposed to be a human Talent, not a werewolf. Maybe you ought to take away those bruises.”

“Oh,” Adam said, seeming startled that he’d forgotten.

“I can do it,” Ari offered. “You don’t have to bother.”

Adam’s men suddenly got quiet. Was this because their lieutenant had marked her in the first place? Or because she’d volunteered to heal herself? Or maybe Adam’s team was staring at the ground because she hadn’t done it already.

Just how serious was this marking thing?

“That’s fine,” Adam said, nodding at her gravely.

Though he wasn’t acting like she’d insulted him, she still had the impression she’d put her foot in it.

~

“Have you been Outside?” Ari asked Adam.

They sat together in a booth in the same crowded coffee shop where she’d found Donnie West. Because the gofer was currently in secure lockup, this seemed as good a place as any to dangle themselves as bait.

Adam leaned closer to her across the table. “I lived in New York for two months as part of my Academy training, so I’d understand the criminals who cross over. We shouldn’t talk about this here, though. It’s noisy, but some creatures have sharp ears.”

“Right,” she said and then couldn’t speak at all. She tried to picture Adam in Manhattan. Riding the subway. Running in his wolf form in Central Park. Could they have crossed paths without knowing it?

Her Converse-clad feet tapped restlessly on the floor. Adam caught them between his boots, stilling them. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

She nodded. Of course it was okay. Anyone who was hoping to be grabbed by the Eunuch would be nervous. Nervousness was perfectly consistent with their cover.

Adam covered the hands she was using to ball up her napkin.

“If anything happens to you because of me . . .” she said.

He smiled and leaned in. Suddenly, he was kissing her, his mouth sealing over hers as his tongue slid in. He kept the kiss going for a good half minute, his probing gentle but delicious. Ari was breathing quicker when he backed off.

“See anyone you know?” he asked.

It took a moment before she was able to move her eyes from his. She didn’t know how to be subtle, so she just looked around. “Maybe,” she said. “That guy sugaring his coffee seems familiar.”

Adam didn’t follow her gaze. “Okay. Time to put on a show. Drop that crumpled napkin on your saucer.”

Ari put it where he asked. Adam stretched out one finger and set its edge alight. He extinguished it a moment later, but his action was enough to draw attention.

“Hey,” said the mother elf at the next table. “That’s not allowed in here.” She pointed sternly at the No Flaring sign hanging on the wall directly above their booth.

“Sorry,” Adam said, his wolfish grin undermining it. “My girlfriend is making me hot. Love your ears, by the way.”

The mother elf slitted her eyes at him, then returned to scolding her two toddlers. Adam pushed his sexy horn-rim glasses farther up his nose, which caused the littlest elf to gape at him. The boy was about Ethan’s age. His miniature pointy ears were the cutest thing Ari had ever seen.

“All right,” Adam said, pushing up from his seat and digging in his jeans pocket. “It’s probably time to go.”

He dropped some wadded bills on the table beside their cups.

“You’re sure?” Ari asked, rising with him. “We—” She lowered her voice. “We don’t know the right person saw.”

Adam put his arm around her and steered her to the door. “I paid our bill in US dollars. Trust me, the waitress won’t let that pass without setting up a stink.”

If there was a stink, they were outside before it broke. Adam snuggled her to his side, ambling around the corner to Chinatown as if they had all the time in the world. Ari dreaded seeing the skinned gnomes again, but Adam stopped in front of one restaurant’s window like his shoes had been bolted there.

“You’re right,” he said a bit more loudly than he had to. “These things are complete freakouts.”

Ari didn’t notice anyone watching them, but maybe Adam knew better than she did. There were a lot of windows to either side of them. Farther down the street, a shadow that could have been Grant the gargoyle changed the shape of one roofline.

“Want to go in there?” Adam asked, pointing toward an import store. “Maybe they’ve got something cool we can take back home.”

Ari discovered how effective obfuscation spells could be when a long white limo literally came out of nowhere. It squealed onto the sidewalk in front of them, bouncing slightly before stopping. The nearest door sprang open and a man with dark gray skin and tusks leaped out of it toward her. Dressed in a double-breasted gangster suit, he had to be eight feet tall.

Out of instinct, Ari grabbed Adam’s hand and ran the other way. Two more goons in suits blocked their escape from that direction. They were joined a moment later by the Eunuch himself.

Henry Blackwater was an elegant man—smooth-skinned, strawberry blond, with a partiality for cream-colored Italian suits. He was slender and not quite a six footer. He strolled toward her like a dancer, pulling thin tan gloves from his long-fingered hands. His sharp fox-like features kept him from looking completely effeminate.

Ari’s throat threatened to close. Their fishing expedition had worked faster than she was prepared for.

“Ari,” Blackwater said in his favorite slightly mocking tone. “I assume you’re looking for me. How silly of you to run.”

“How silly of you to bring your goons if you didn’t want me to.”

It wasn’t the greatest comeback, just the best she could do right then.

The giant gray guy with the tusks was holding Adam from behind by the arms. Adam wasn’t struggling, but he jerked like he wanted to.

“Nice of you to bring a friend,” the Eunuch observed. “I’m always looking for new talent.”

Ari didn’t like the way he smiled at Adam. Adam was considerably bigger, but Blackwater wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’t even seem to view Adam as a person. He was . . . speculating about him, like he might an item on a new menu. When Blackwater had first found Ari, he’d at least pretended to care for her well being.

“Put them in the limo,” he instructed his cohorts. “We need to get out of here.”

Ari couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to be shut up in that car. She lifted her hands to fight. Maybe she could take him out here and now. She drew up power from the ground so fast her feet went numb. It wasn’t fast enough. Before she could release her gifts, one of Blackwater’s men slapped her in the same silvery-gold handcuffs the police had used.

“None of that,” their boss reproved. “Not if you hope to strike any sort of deal with me.”

Because she had to, Ari controlled herself. His men shoved her and Adam in the limo. They weren’t too careful about it. Ari would have fallen on her face if her hands hadn’t been cuffed in front of her. Adam fared a bit better. He only got a bonked elbow.

“Watch the goods!” he protested to the gray skinned man.

Tusk Man bared the rest of his teeth and pulled a gun from a side holster. He sat on the seat opposite with it trained on them. Blackwater slid in beside him, followed by a hunk of more ordinary muscle in a suit. Ari thought he was human, though she couldn’t be sure. Ordinary Goon shut the door, then rapped on the partition for the driver to pull away. As they rolled into motion, he set a small brown rock on the limo floor. He closed his eyes, extended his hands, and muttered a foreign word.

A shock wave made of light burst out from the rock. Ari’s brain went completely fuzzy for a second. When it cleared, the rock was gone and a slick of wavering brown light clung to the outer surfaces of their vehicle. It could be seen through from inside, though she doubted the reverse was true.

Huh, she thought, intrigued in spite of herself. That’s what an obfuscation spell looked like. She wondered if Adam’s team would be able to track them when it was on. Their plan didn’t depend on them doing so, but it would make her feel better. Possibly Grant would be able to if they couldn’t, given his Level Eight mojo.

That thought ran through her brain in a twinkling. It occurred to her the ordinary looking goon wasn’t that ordinary after all. She didn’t recognize him, so maybe he was Resurrection-only staff. When he noticed her attention, his mouth curved like he wanted to do not-very-nice things to her.

“You wish,” she said, at which both Adam and Blackwater laughed.

Their masculine amusement was a tad disturbing. Blackwater’s elegant legs were crossed. He flapped the strangely supple gloves he’d removed earlier on his upper thigh.

Shit, Ari thought. She just bet those things were gnome skin.

She couldn’t keep her muscles from tightening. As they did, Adam’s arm shifted beside her, not an actual gesture of reassurance so much as a hint of one.

She realized she was glad he was there. She didn’t like depending on other people, and she didn’t want him getting hurt on her account. That said, she couldn’t deny one important fact.

Adam knew what he was doing.

Willing though Ari was to go to the mat for her friends, the Eunuch had her outclassed. While she might have more power here in Resurrection, so did her enemy.

~

The limo carried them north and east for about forty minutes. The reason Adam knew this was because his wolf side had an innate sense of direction, one he didn’t think the obfuscation spell could mess with. Looking out the window was less informative. Presumably, the driver could see clearly. From the back of the vehicle, the brown tinged landscape was fuzzy and confusing.

The strength of the spell impressed and concerned him at the same time. He doubted his team would be able to track the car. Maybe Grant would, but that wasn’t a sure thing. For certain, the Eunuch wasn’t pinching pennies when it came to security.

Resurrection’s foremost criminal kingpin sat flanked by his men, calm and relaxed as the drive drew out, a sleek golden-haired serpent without a care in the world. He fondled those poncey gloves of his now and then, but that seemed pretension rather than nervousness. One of the few things they knew about Henry Blackwater was that he’d been born to the owners of a tiny cleaning supply store, the sort where people could rent equipment to get stains out of their carpets. He doubted it was coincidence that they’d died in suspicious circumstances soon after Blackwater established his first cross-border trafficking enterprise.

The Eunuch had wanted to erase his humble beginnings.

He’s a drug dealer, Adam reminded himself. He may strike terror everywhere he goes, but he isn’t anything fancier than that. Magic-wise, he wasn’t much of a power. Barely a Level Two—and who knew how weak he’d been before doing his alleged demon deal? He bought the spells he needed with his profits from exploiting other’s weaknesses.

Adam’s eyes had gone hard. Blackwater noticed and lifted his brows at him.

“Just admiring the apps on your ride,” he said, tapping one knuckle against the clouded brown window.

“Resurrection does offer a special brand of wonders.”

“So I’m seeing,” Adam said.

The Eunuch’s smile was small but satisfied. Adam had just given him something he wanted: implied credit for the mojo his money bought. This might be one reason he collected his entourages of Outsiders. Insiders wouldn’t be so easily misled.

Insiders knew a lot of things, including that the difference between Talents and sorcerers was that talent was natural. Sorcerers forced magic to behave in a certain way. Thanks to their training in rituals and spells, they could pull off amazing things—precise, powerful, dangerous things most Talents couldn’t dream of. Sorcery was the closest humans came to wielding the power of the fae. The downside was that sorcerers paid a price.

A big spell—say if someone wanted to recreate the Washington Street Bridge disaster on purpose—would cost a sorcerer a year of his life. Activating the obfuscation spell for the limo probably stole a week from the Eunuch’s sorcerer-goon. Whoever created the rock that contained the spell likely gave up a month.

With only so much life to spend, sorcerers charged a premium for their services. To do everything he needed, Blackwater probably kept a dozen on retainer.

Adam revised that estimate upward as the limo approached its destination. He was relatively certain they’d entered Clifton Bluffs, a wooded and affluent area overlooking the wilder reaches of the North River. Here every house was a compound, and the neighbors didn’t invite each other to barbecues. Some faeries kept residences here, or simply maintained the forest version of no man’s land. You wouldn’t want to stroll through those spooky trees at night, not unless you were high up in the fae yourself. Adam might be a big bad wolf, but the thought of it was enough to make him suppress a shiver.

If Grant had managed to follow them, Adam hoped he’d be all right out there.

“Home sweet home,” Blackwater said as they rolled through an automatic gate that resembled something out of Versailles. The last of the obfuscation spell dissolved, revealing a large white block of a house with narrow Moroccan style windows.

Adam wasn’t at all surprised to see every one of them was electrum barred.

The tall gray spink demon with the tusks took charge of Ari, ushering her from the vehicle with more care than he’d initially shoved her in. Spinks could be aggressive, but as demons went, they were reasonably self-controlled. Many worked as bouncers in clubs, a career track that could lead in less savory directions. The human sorcerer-goon looked like he wanted to take Ari into his personal custody, but didn’t dare ask his boss for favors. As the spink demon pushed her forward, Ari shot Adam a wide-eyed look over her shoulder.

Adam hated her fear more than he could afford to show. At least he’d warned her they might be separated. From what he knew, the Eunuch was a divide-and-conquer boss. On the semi-bright side, Ari was no burned out Talent like the ones who had disappeared. Her potential usefulness to Blackwater ought to keep her safe for a while.

“Where’s the weird guy taking her?” Adam thought it appropriate to ask.

“Oh, no worries,” Blackwater said, facing him on a roundabout paved with shiny obsidian stones. “Your girlfriend will be taken excellent care of. We just want her to be . . . secure.”

Adam grunted, pursed his lips, then met Blackwater’s amused violet eyes. “How come you don’t care if I’m secure?”

“I’ve yet to decide your value. Or the risk you might pose to my operation.”

“I won’t let you hurt her,” he said, but not like he was passionate about it.

Blackwater’s thin lips curved up, the idea that Adam had the power to defend her ridiculous to him. “I’m Henry Blackwater,” he said, offering his hand.

“Adam,” he returned, shaking it. He wasn’t going to offer his last name. Full true names could be used in too many spells. Blackwater didn’t push. Perhaps he assumed Adam had a history in New York he didn’t want him researching.

“You strike me as a sensible man,” he said. “Why don’t we go inside and discuss your prospects over a drink?”

Adam’s touch of Sight allowed him to spot more magic being used inside. The halls of the compound were white and still, their marble floors as shiny as hockey rinks. Here and there, the walls showed glimmering signs of spy runes and magical alarms. He knew they were searching him for weapons and surveillance devices.

The weapons—a knife holstered at his ankle and a set of brass knuckles—would be spotted and probably ignored. He’d have seemed more suspicious if he’d left them at home. By contrast, the tiny subdermal bugs were well camouflaged. Without the right sort of scanner, Adam might not find them again himself. They’d remain inactive until he turned them on, which he wouldn’t do unless Blackwater appeared about to incriminate himself. Once he’d recorded what seemed prosecutable, Adam would send the data to his team in one lightning burst. Because the transmission would set off alarms, he’d have to be strategic. That the message would get through he felt confident.

Resurrection’s police force had its own magical personnel.

After a heated debate among the squad, they’d decided not to wire Ari. She had an emergency transmitter and that was it. Adam hadn’t wanted to risk even a remote chance that the bugs would be discovered on her. She was his ticket in here. That was more than enough risk for her.

A brief flash of heat at his neck informed him his saint medal had just been scanned. He was grateful he’d never had it charmed Any protective qualities it had came from faith alone.

Apparently, this concluded Blackwater’s magical gauntlet. The hall they’d been walking down ended in a pair of shiny white paneled doors. Blackwater opened them.

“Please,” he said, gesturing Adam ahead of him.

Cautious, Adam stepped into a large high-ceilinged office. Three narrow windows were spaced along one wall, their view blocked by overgrown yew trees. Some light filtered in, revealing a space decorated in unrelieved white and gray. Even for Nate, the decor was overdoing the cool. Adam’s detective liked plenty of color to spice up his modern style.

“Drink?” Blackwater offered.

Without waiting for an answer, he poured two glasses of an insanely expensive single malt. He handed a glass to Adam, who sipped it like he didn’t want to let on this booze was more sophisticated than his usual.

Given his salary, he didn’t have to pretend hard.

“Nice,” he said and continued wandering the office with his tumbler in hand.

He tipped his eyeglasses back into his hair, which he’d seen Outsiders do on TV shows. Blackwater watched everything he did, his hips resting on the front of a bleached-looking driftwood desk. Ari had mentioned he disliked computers, and there were none in sight. Did he keep handwritten ledgers? Maybe in that long white wall of locked cabinets? The man seemed vain enough to want to store the records of his financial victories close at hand. Maybe he fondled them during his down time.

If the stories were true, ledgers were all he had for that.

“So,” his host began, taking a sip himself. “You and my old friend, Ari . . .”

Adam allowed himself a laugh. “Ari doesn’t call you her friend.”

Blackwater didn’t like that, but it wasn’t enough to make him angry. “I’m curious to know how you met. If you’ll forgive my saying so, you’re more . . . mature than her usual boyfriends.”

That was a nice double dig: calling him old and reminding him Ari had a romantic past. Though he bristled inside, Adam shrugged. “Some girls dig older men.”

“Some girls always fall for users.”

Adam smiled with one corner of his mouth. “Ari’s nice. A guy like me could hook up with worse.”

Distaste flicked across Blackwater’s features. He pulled himself back on track. “And you met . . . ?”

Adam threw off another shrug. “I was doing my thing in the park one night. Lighting trashcans on fire. I like to practice. Ari saw and realized we had an interest in common.”

Blackwater set down his drink. “She never mentioned you to me.”

“Why would she? You and she were on the outs by then.” Adam dropped into a white horsehide chair whose sides were wrapped in riveted aluminum. The tightening of Blackwater’s lips betrayed how little he appreciated Adam sitting without an invitation. Adam threw his vanity a bone. “I gotta say, this is a sweet set up.”

Blackwater considered him coolly. “Why did you come to Resurrection?”

“Ari told me about this place. She said I’d have more juice here, and described the elves and shit. I thought it’d be cool to see. Of course, I also thought she might have been confused by an acid trip.”

“And now?”

“Now I think it’s freaking awesome. I hardly have to work here to do my thing.”

One of Blackwater’s fingertips tapped the rim of his glass. “Ari didn’t bring you here just to entertain you.”

Adam leaned back in the hide-and-aluminum chair. Maybe Nate should get one of these. It really was comfortable. “Ari seemed to think she could use backup when she came to discuss your issues.”

Blackwater rose and paced to the middle of his three windows. Adam didn’t think his feelings were hurt by Ari’s precautions. He seemed more like he was worried. It was the first real crack Adam had seen in his confidence. Maybe the Eunuch didn’t just want Ari back in the fold. Maybe he needed her for something.

He stood where he was, looking out at the tangled yew, not speaking. After a minute, he turned back to Adam. “What sort of ‘backup’ are you interested in being?”

“Well, that depends,” Adam said. “I like the girl, but as you pointed out, I’m a sensible man. Seems to me you’ve hired people with my sort of skills before.”

Blackwater might not have known it, but his face got smoother when he relaxed. “You’d be more valuable to me if you could convince her to cooperate.”

Adam’s mouth stretched into a grin. “Cooperative women are my specialty.”

Blackwater didn’t look convinced. Mostly, he looked faintly disgusted. If he had sacrificed his genitalia to a demon, maybe he made himself feel better about it by looking down on people who still enjoyed the use of theirs. For the moment, that didn’t matter. Any plan that put him and Ari back together, where Adam could watch over her, was inherently better than a plan that kept them apart.

~

Ari’s cuffs had been removed, but the room she’d been put in might as well have been a cell. It had no handle inside the door, one small barred window too high to see out of, and a gray futon with no frame and no bedding. What she’d thought was a closet turned out to be a cramped bathroom.

En suite! she joked to herself. You must be a VIP.

What truly bugged her, of course, was that the room was charmed to damp her power. She couldn’t use her telekinesis to break out. Then again, with all of Blackwater’s guards, she wouldn’t have gotten far. She’d just have felt better sneaking out, and she’d have poked around.

That was why they were here, after all. To get the goods on the Eunuch so the law could put him away.

God, she should have killed him back in Manhattan.

She paced to keep herself from going crazy. After a bit of that, she noticed the floor tingled in its center, straight through her sneaker soles. Curious, she hunkered over the spot.

Was this where the depowering charm was placed? The smooth white tile appeared featureless. Ari patted it, then cocked her head.

Did she hear chanting?

She pressed her ear to the floor. Yes, that was chanting, and whoever was doing it hailed from New Jersey. Her cell was being charmed by a fellow Outsider.

She sat back on her heels as the chanting stopped, both offended and befuddled. The spell caster had done something. The walls felt subtly tighter around her.

The puzzle would have to wait. A guard opened her door, and Adam strolled in like the Lord of Flatbush. His hot geek glasses were on top of his head. He folded them, then tossed them onto the bare futon.

“Hey, babe,” he said cockily.

The door clicked closed again as she rose.

“C’mere,” he said, putting out his arms. Ari wasn’t sure what script she ought to follow, but she went to him anyway. Though she knew they were being watched, possibly with more spells, his strong embrace felt like heaven. The smell of him equalled comfort, the heat of him and the size. He buried his nose in her neck and groaned.

“You kill me, babe,” he said.

She felt his arousal, that he couldn’t suppress it even now. His hands slid up and down her back, a ridge beginning to harden within his jeans. Ari leaned back before she lost the strength to. “What did Blackwater say?”

His hands locked behind her waist, keeping his hips on hers. “I think maybe you haven’t given him a fair shake.”

“What?” She knew he was feigning this attitude, but her outrage came naturally.

“He’s only trying to run his business. He needs you to help him out.”

“He hurt my friends. He’s holding us prisoner.”

“Do I look like a prisoner?”

She tried to fling away from him, but he held her secure. His strength did funny things to her hormones. Heat flashed through her pussy, thickening its walls and slicking them with wetness. Nostrils flaring, Adam growled and kissed her.

She must have kissed him back too well, because his canines lengthened. When he pulled back, he kept their foreheads together. “Your friends aren’t here, babe. I am. Sometimes you have to be practical.”

“You dick!” She shoved him—possibly for the secret pleasure of being unable to budge his hard muscles. “I asked you to come with me to back me up.”

“Sometimes plans have to change.” He stroked the side of her cheek. If she hadn’t known what it would cost her, those soft green eyes might have made her forget right and wrong. They were awfully seductive. “You could do the man a little favor. He’s not asking for the moon.”

“He starts with little favors. He ends by me murdering someone.”

“Don’t be a drama queen.” His hand slid under her jacket to cup her breast. His canines had gone back to normal, but the brush of her budded nipple darkened his eyes. “We could do all right here, Ari. You and me, playing around with our special gifts. We wouldn’t even be freaks.”

“Blackwater is a bad person.”

Adam palmed her butt with his second hand and dragged her hips closer. God, he was hard now. And big. Her pussy was melting, her nipples tight and hot. When he plucked one with his thumb and fingers, she couldn’t help moaning.

“That’s more like it,” he said.

He kissed her like he wasn’t going to stop this time, like this was going to finish with his giant hard-on rammed up inside of her. He lifted her, urging her suddenly shaking legs around his waist. The huge bulge behind his zipper rolled against her deliciously.

Ari wanted him, but she drew the line at screwing him in front of Blackwater. She struggled, which Adam put an end to by slamming her into the wall.

She really shouldn’t have found that a turn-on.

“Trust me, babe,” he said huskily, beginning to push up her shirt front. “I’ll get us through this.”

She wore a bra today, but he pushed that up too. He ducked and his lips sealed warmly around her nipple, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. She told herself at least he was hiding her from view, but that was only useful if he didn’t undress her more.

“Adam.”

He stepped them onto the futon, where he dropped to his knees. His eyes were very close to burning as he laid her back under him. She felt him work the front of his jeans open. The metal button, the zipper . . . Her excitement spiked so high she knew she needed to stop this now.

“Adam,” she said more insistently.

“Sh.” Holding her with his gaze, he unzipped her jeans and wedged his hand down the opening.

She forgot everything but him. His longest finger cruised into her red-hot folds and all she could do was feel. She writhed for him, trying to get the finger to curl inside her sheath. He wouldn’t do it. Groaning, he rubbed her clit from side to side almost fast enough to make her come. She stretched up and kissed him again. Her eagerness seemed to push him over some edge. Grunting with impatience, he picked up his hips to shove his jeans and underwear further down. His pelvis came back naked, his erection long and hot on her denim-covered thigh. Ari moaned her approval into his mouth, caressing his now bare ass.

Without warning, the bond his bite had created became ten times more alive. Suddenly, the urges that gripped him bombarded her. He could take her. She was ready. His cock was leaking excitement onto her skin. He wanted to claim her in the most basic way males had. He wasn’t going to be happy until he impaled her.

Yes, she thought, her thighs straining wider.

Adam tore his lips from hers.

“Okay,” he panted. “The watching spells have turned off. We should be able to talk, though probably not for long. Blackwater will check again when he thinks we’re done. Hopefully, he doesn’t take me for a five-minute guy.”

“What?” Ari’s brain was sluggish from the way her body was jangling.

“I figured he’d turn them off. He seems to find the idea of sex repugnant.” He rolled off her with a sigh. “Are you all right?”

Apart from being yanked back an inch short of bliss, she was peachy. To be fair, he didn’t look so happy about pulling back either. His face was strained and glistened with a light sweat. He started to tuck his cock away, then winced.

“Sure,” she said, squirming into a more comfortable position on her side—or as comfortable as she’d get with her pussy pounding like a marching band. His expression softened as she came closer, which sort of squeezed her heart. Ignoring that, she shared what she’d found out, little though it was. “There’s a room under this one. I heard someone chanting. Someone from New Jersey.”

“Are you sure? Some of Resurrection’s accents are pretty close.”

“I know my Jersey shore,” she said.

Adam rubbed her shoulder as if touching her helped him think. “If Blackwater is training Outside Talents to cast spells, maybe that’s how he burns them out. He could be promising them they’ll up their juice that way. They might not realize what it’s costing them.”

Despite the rock-hard rod that continued to throb from his unzipped jeans, he explained how sorcerers paid the bill for the rituals they performed. The idea creeped her. She’d stick with her Talent the way it was. Or at least she’d stick with whatever improvements plain old practice could bring her.

“These spell things have to be recharged?” she asked, thinking that might have caused the walls to feel more closed in.

He nodded. “That’s one of the reasons Blackwater sometimes turns them off. He doesn’t want the batteries running down. What I’m wondering is why didn’t he burn you out like the others? What’s he saving you for?”

The question gave her a chill, which Adam soothed by chafing her arm. “I have no idea,” she said. “I don’t know of any way I’m different from the others. Outside, lots of them were better with their gifts than me.”

“He’s worried about something. I could tell when he so graciously invited me to be a part of his team.”

“What favor did he want to ask me?”

“He didn’t give details. All I know is it has to do with some club he’s going to tonight. He wants us to come with him.”

“I guess we’re going then,” she said resignedly.

Adam kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you want me to finish you?” he asked, nodding toward the gaping zipper of her jeans.

She did, but the implication that she was the one who needed it frosted her.

“I’d like it if we both went,” he said softly.

His mind-reading would choose then to kick in.

“You kill me, babe,” she said wryly, and wrapped her hand firmly around him.

As cheap thrills went, the blazing heat of his cock definitely rated.

They were both businesslike about getting off, considering how little time they were likely to have. Adam’s hand worked faster than hers, but he was really ready to go. His body tensed and he blasted off maybe ten seconds before she did.

The little sounds he made as he shot his load drove her crazy: not quite grunts, not quite moans, but like going with her hand on him was extremely enjoyable. Those noises were the best soundtrack ever to come by.

She had the sinking feeling the memory of that soundtrack was going to keep many future climaxes company. Adam’s wolfy libido was the stuff fantasies were made of.

Chapter Eight

THE club was in East Elfyunk, a mixed-income, mixed-race suburb outside the city core. They drove there in a massive tricked-out black Hummer. Blackwater didn’t bother with an obfuscation spell, though he did bring along the spink demon and two more hunks of muscle for bodyguards. One of them was the beefy sorcerer, whom Adam learned was named Francis. He probably preferred Frank, but that would just make Blackwater enjoy calling him Francis more.

Given how he’d eyed Ari earlier, Adam didn’t feel too sorry for him.

He forgot him entirely when he saw the sign for the worn down two-story building that housed their destination. Adam had heard about this place. He had an immediate inkling why they’d come.

Evie’s was a supper and music club that had been popular since the 1930s. Criminals liked it, but so did succeeding generations of Resurrection’s youth. For them, the air of danger added to its cachet. Though it was Tuesday, a slow night for many places, the graveled parking lot that surrounded the club was packed. Their driver handed a bribe to the attendant and got them a reserved spot.

“Who’s Evie?” Ari asked as Adam helped her climb out. This was more than politeness. The dress Blackwater had sent to their room wasn’t designed for getting in and out of large vehicles. The slinky gray satin number was spared from baring the hooch in her coochie only by its final layer of fringe. Ari grimaced as the strappy heels he’d included wobbled on the gravel, but Adam had to admit she looked amazing.

This was a different sort of dress from Maria’s. In it, Ari was a woman and not a girl, one with the power to turn heads. Blackwater might not be personally interested in that, but his pride would enjoy being seen with a female other men would admire.

“Evie isn’t a who, my dear,” he said now. “Evie is a what.”

When the Eunuch stepped out of the Hummer, one of the goons brushed his spotless cream linen suit for him.

“Okay,” Ari said. “What’s Evie?”

“Evie is Mariska Andoor. She owns the club, and she’s an elf-vampire, hence E.V.”

“What does that even mean?” Ari asked. “She only drinks blood on St. Patrick’s day?”

Blackwater laughed lightly. “Ah Ari, how I’ve missed your sense of humor.”

His tone gave Adam a turn, reminding him there’d been a time when the Eunuch and Ari might have been if not friends at least friendly. He’d saved Ari and her companions from starving on the street. She must have felt grateful to him, until she figured out how dark his nature was.

Maybe Ari was remembering too. She frowned and smoothed her dress’s fringe down her upper legs. “How do you make an elf-vampire? Do the vampires bite them?”

Blackwater enjoyed playing teacher, which she likely knew. “Elves can’t be turned, but they are one of only two races who can breed with vampires. Vampires can’t breed amongst themselves, of course, not being alive anymore.”

“Who’s the other race?” Ari asked, clearly curious in spite of her dislike.

“Faeries,” he said. “But there aren’t many who’d stoop to it. Reproducing with anyone but themselves—and never mind the undead—generally isn’t their style.”

Blackwater said this differently than Adam would have. He could tell the Eunuch approved of their elitism.

The conversation had taken their little group around the side of the brick-clad building to the faded red awning that sheltered the front walk. A blue elf, one of the more solidly built subspecies, was vetting the night’s customers. He looked dubiously at the Eunuch, whom he obviously recognized.

“Just visiting,” Blackwater said, his palms exposed and his mouth gleeful. “You know how I admire Mariska’s talent.”

That the blue-skinned man wanted to turn him away was clear. That he didn’t dare to, equally so. “Lord Grygir is here tonight,” he said stiffly. “We don’t want trouble.”

Blackwater’s teeth seemed to sparkle, he’d bared them so broadly. “When have I ever caused trouble? I assure you, I’m delighted Lord Grygir is in attendance.”

Adam wasn’t sure he was. Lord Grygir, a pureblood fae, ran most of the strip clubs in Resurrection, a business Blackwater had been trying without success to encroach on. His own disinterest in sex aside, he’d have been happy to cut a slice of that lucrative pie. Adam didn’t believe for a moment Blackwater hadn’t known the fae would be here.

“Fine,” the blue elf surrendered. “Just remember, we will call the cops if you give us cause.”

He waved the rest of Blackwater’s group through without comment. As they passed inside, Ari took Adam’s hand and held on. She might not know the players, but she’d be no stranger to her old boss’s mood. Adam suspected she knew more was on tonight’s agenda than a pleasant evening of listening to music.

~

Evie’s was exactly the sort of club she and Max and Sarah would save their nickels to go to. Music was their shared passion, part of what had drawn them together. The performer wasn’t on stage yet, but the recording coming through the speakers inspired a smile: Jamaican reggae with a head-bobbing beat. This wasn’t big-label music; this was home grown imported stuff.

The main room was a sea of, well, not exactly humanity but certainly people. Drawn together by their air of anticipation, they sat at round white-clothed tables, vampires next to elves next to who knew what. Candles flickered in glass votives, wisps of smoke rising to a stamped tin ceiling. Underneath the fresh table cloths and the flowers, the atmosphere was a little divey, though not so divey it would stick to your feet. Ari imagined the decor hadn’t changed much since the place had been built. Its very datedness made it cool. Lots of good music had soaked into these age-browned walls.

Seats were found for Henry Blackwater’s party at a small corner table near the front. To Ari’s dismay, her chair was squished close enough to Blackwater’s for their sides to bump. Blackwater didn’t seem to mind or even notice. His trouser leg brushed her calf as he tapped his foot to the beat. Then again, he might have been messing with her on purpose, because he knew she’d dislike him touching her.

At least Adam was on her other side.

The chairs’ backs were turned toward the table so they could see the stage. Ari tried to distract herself from Blackwater by checking out the groups next to them. Surprisingly, no one was checking out Blackwater. He was sufficiently distinctive to draw eyes, but tonight everyone’s attention seemed directed toward a table front and center before the stage.

Ari craned forward to see who sat at it.

There was just one man. He was tall and lean and dressed very much like Adam in a casual business shirt and jeans. A carafe of orange juice—chilled to judge by its condensing sides—sat behind his elbow with an empty wine glass. Maybe fruit juice was his species’ version of alcohol. If it was, he wasn’t imbibing. Positioned to face the stage, he leaned forward over his knees with his gaze on the floor. His hands were clasped together as if he were praying. He seemed too deep in thought to be aware of the eyes on him.

Ari understood why they couldn’t look away. He was the most beautiful being she’d ever seen.

Adam was a handsome man. So was Blackwater, in his skin crawly way. This male threw off beauty like pollen. He was angel-gorgeous. Polished and buffed, his masculine splendor was touched with the perfect dollop of sweetness. Just staring at him gave her a little high.

This had to be the fae Lord Grygir. When Adam slid his hand to lightly rub the back of her neck, the reminder that any other man existed came as a shock.

She snuck a glance at Blackwater, whose gaze was also locked on the fae. His expression was . . . illuminating. If she hadn’t believed him to be incapable of attraction, she’d have said he was staring at the object of a crush—one he fiercely resented experiencing.

She wrenched her attention away before Blackwater could see she’d noticed. Her hand was on Adam’s kneecap, clutching it like she needed a lifeline to steady her. A lifeline wasn’t all she needed. The flowery scent that lent Resurrection its trademark aroma wafted strongly from Lord Grygir. It smelled so good she wanted to hang her tongue out and pant.

Adam nuzzled her ear, teeth closing over her lobe in a gentle nip. “Faerie dust,” he whispered. “It’s a mild aphrodisiac.”

If this was mild, she’d hate to see intense. She was perspiring from arousal, and they’d barely been here five minutes. Adam released her ear and patted the hand she’d clamped on his knee. For a second, she wanted him so badly she couldn’t think.

It was a relief when the faerie lifted his head, his focus drawn to the room’s wide door. Then she saw the arrogance Adam had mentioned the fae having, but maybe pride was a better word. Lord Grygir’s spine was as erect as a general’s, his shoulders born in review posture. No woman with a shred of sense would fall for a man like that. He’d grind her into powder under one autocratic heel.

And then Mariska Andoor entered the room.

Ari didn’t know how to describe Grygir’s reaction except to say that joy washed through him. His eyes lit up and his proud mouth went soft. His beauty simply hurt then, the cool superiority gone from it. He was a young man in love, maybe for the first time. Her knowledge that his people probably disapproved only made him more romantic. His love was forbidden, but he loved anyway.

Ari gave the elf-vampire a heap of credit for not leaping into his arms. Instead, she nodded at him warily, circling him a bit further off than necessary to reach the small raised platform at the front of the room. Ari was amazed to find a quartet of musicians sitting there with their instruments. She’d bet she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t seen them come in.

Mariska pulled the microphone from its stand. “Good evening, everyone,” she said.

For the first time, Ari really looked at her. She wasn’t breathtaking like Lord Grygir, but she was really cute. Slender and vampire pale, she lacked elf ears but did have elfin eyes. They were green and slanted and fringed thickly with dark lashes. Her brunette hair was cropped very short, her nose was a button, and her little bowed mouth was as red as a kewpie doll’s. Her tatas were small but knockouts, a pair of peaches nestled in the low cut bodice of her blue velvet dress. Ari could see why the stuck up faerie would go for her. She looked like someone who’d be a hundred times more fun than him.

Mariska turned slightly, signaling to her band. They struck up an old jazzy tune. The elf-vampire swayed, drew a breast-lifting breath, and then she began to sing.

Every hair on Ari’s arms stood up. Maybe the faerie liked the club owner for more than her cuteness. Mariska’s voice was amazing, like Lena Horne crossed with Rihanna. She knew how to use her pipes, for real, her delivery not just deft but emotional. Ari didn’t recognize the song, something about dark alleys and the ill-fated women who wandered into them. Possibly the composer was from Resurrection. She found herself wishing Max and Sarah could be there to share her pleasure.

When Adam’s fingers rubbed hers, it was almost a good enough substitute.

Blackwater let her enjoy two songs before pressing a piece of paper that had been folded into an origami pocket into her hands. Ari squeezed it open, dread gripping her. Two locks of hair lay inside, one of them Maxwell’s russet brown, the other Sarah’s honey gold. Tears she couldn’t control swarmed into her eyes.

Blackwater leaned closer to her ear. “I just want you to know,” he murmured, “that even though you and I are here, it’s always possible for me to reach out and touch your friends.”

She’d known that. She just hadn’t thought he would. Always before when he’d disappeared from Manhattan, no one would hear from him. Ari swallowed the lump in her throat.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

“I want you to sever her vocal chords.”

He didn’t look at Mariska, but Ari knew which her he meant. She understood immediately that the singer wasn’t who Blackwater was striking at, he was striking at Lord Grygir. That was the Eunuch’s MO, to hurt his opponents through the people they cared about.

“I might kill her,” she objected—stupidly, no doubt.

“Not if you’re careful,” Blackwater said silkily.

“Will she heal?”

The Eunuch smiled with only his violet eyes, which were too avid for comfort. “Magically inflicted injuries tend to leave terrible scars on vampires.”

So she’d never sing again. Not for the enraptured crowd made one by her magic voice. Not for the man who loved her. Not even for herself. Ari could tell what singing meant to the club owner, how it was the true expression of her soul. Severing her vocal chords would be like cutting off Jimmy Hendrix’s hands, a theft the whole world would be poorer for.

No matter how much they wanted to live, neither Maxwell nor Sarah would approve of her doing this.

“I can’t,” she began to plead, but Adam chose then to lean across her shoulder.

“I’ll fry the bitch if you want,” he said.

His werewolf hearing must have picked up their conversation.

“That won’t do,” Blackwater said primly.

“The fuck it won’t,” Adam said. “Ari ain’t gonna cave for you.”

Before either of them could stop him, Adam extended both index fingers and shot two shimmering lines of power from between his knees toward the stage. The carpet to either side of Mariska’s heels ignited in foot-high flames. The singer let out a shriek that actually shattered a few wineglasses. Despite this feat, Ari gawked at Adam, stunned by the image of the blazing fire reflected in his horn-rimmed lenses. He was a cop, sworn to protect and serve. What the hell was he doing?

“Shit,” he muttered. “My aim is crap.”

Her sanity recovered. He’d missed the singer on purpose. He’d been trying to spare Ari a terrible choice. As soon as relief welled up, terror swallowed it. What if Blackwater figured out what he’d done?

Adam must have known this was a concern. He furrowed his brow and squinted behind his glasses, his fingers straightening to try again.

Blackwater seized his fire-tattooed wrist before he could. “Idiot. I told you that wouldn’t do.”

At least the crowd wasn’t watching them. They were screaming, the ones in front jumping to their feet, the ones in back trying to reach the exit as an assortment of shrill alarms went off. Growling curses, Blackwater grabbed Ari and Adam by the scruff of their necks. He pushed them ahead of him into the panicked mass of people. Ari saw Lord Grygir leap across the flames to where Mariska was cowering. Ignoring the musicians, he scooped the singer up in his arms—her knight in faerie armor, she supposed. He took a second to stare deeply into her eyes, then whizzed away with her like a special effect out a movie. A wake of sparkles trailed after him.

“Move,” Blackwater ordered, clearly incensed by the rescue.

They moved and kept on moving, even when some bright soul found a fire extinguisher and doused the flames into submission.

By the time they and the bodyguards reached the Hummer, Blackwater’s curses had sunk into brooding. From experience, Ari knew this wasn’t a good sign.

He didn’t speak during the ride home, just wedged himself beside a window and drummed his long fingers on his thigh. With his other hand he pinched his lower lip. His gnome-skin gloves made this especially creepy.

“Boss,” said the one called Francis, “do you want us to—”

Blackwater shut him up with a glare.

The tense silence reigned until they pulled up in front of the house. The roundabout’s obsidian pavers were shiny enough to reflect the moon.

Blackwater craned his neck to consider the satellite. Like a poster for a horror movie, the moon illuminated the edges of a window in the clouds. Its phase wasn’t full, but it was past three quarters. Ari wondered how close it needed to be before it tugged Adam into turning. Could he resist it? Would they be gone from here by then?

The state of the moon seemed to weigh on Blackwater too. His jaw tightened as he stared at it.

A distinctive winged silhouette crossed the glowing edge of the clouds. Ari’s heart leaped to recognize it. Grant had found them. He could tell Adam’s team where they were.

“Fuck,” Blackwater spat. “Darius, shoot that down.”

Darius was the tusked demon. He pulled out a silver pistol and steadied it on his thick gray wrist.

“No!” Ari cried, running toward him without thinking.

The gun went off as she hit the spink. Darius was eight feet tall and quite a few feet wide. Ari wasn’t going to knock him over. She barely made him move, though the jostling ruined his aim. Grant wheeled away, apparently unharmed, disappearing over the neighboring woods.

Darius turned to gape at her, clearly having trouble believing she’d just done that.

“Gargoyles are pests,” he said in a slow deep voice. “Giant gnomes with wings. And they spy.”

Ari wasn’t sure she should admit she knew they were sentient beings. “They’re cute,” she said. “And I wouldn’t watch you shoot gnomes either.”

Eyes rounded with amazement, he looked over her head to his boss, obviously seeking instruction. Ari knew she didn’t want to see the Eunuch’s expression.

“Get her out of my sight,” he said through gritted teeth. “And post someone on the roof to take down that gargoyle if it returns. I don’t care if they need a bazooka.”

Orders received, Darius caught her upper arm in his massive hand, his grip more than swallowing its circumference. He pulled her fast enough to make her stumble, especially in the stupid strappy heels she wore. Each time she fell, he simply lifted her off the ground and set her down again. Ari had had nightmares about things like this, about being a child and too small to fight being dragged along. To her surprise, once they were out of sight and inside the house, Darius moderated his pace to one closer to her own. Ari panted to catch her breath, too afraid to ask him to slow more.

“Human,” he rumbled when they reached the door to her cell room. “You’d better stop doing crazy things. I’ve seen that man kill girls like you for less.”

This was quite a speech for someone she hadn’t heard say a word until tonight.

“You can’t like working for Blackwater,” she burst out impulsively.

“He pays,” said the demon. “And I’d rather live here than home.”

This was all the explanation she was going to get. He propelled her into the room as if her comment had angered him more than her spoiling his shot. The door closed with a resounding thud.

A prisoner behind it, Ari rubbed her arm where it felt like the demon had crushed her muscles.

Way to go, she thought dryly. Always making friends and influencing people.

~

Adam no longer had to wonder why the gargoyles had a grudge against Blackwater. The paranoid crime lord must have killed a few already. Adam’s heart had just about stopped when Ari rushed Darius.

She hadn’t known Grant wasn’t in real danger. It would take a bazooka to kill a gargoyle from that distance. She probably thought Adam was a dolt for standing there with his mouth open. But at least his inaction was consistent with the role he’d assumed.

He consoled himself that she’d know he’d meant to miss setting Mariska Andoor on fire.

“Look,” he said to Blackwater, judging it time to speak. “I’m sorry I didn’t hit your target back at the club, but I know Ari. She wouldn’t have gone along. She’s got a thing about hurting innocents.”

Blackwater’s jaw worked with rage, his elegant profile to Adam. When he turned to face him, Adam didn’t have to fake a flinch. There was more than a hint of crazy behind his glare. “I suppose it’s too bad for you that I needed her to do as I asked.”

This was an interesting emphasis, almost as interesting as Blackwater ordering Darius to get her out of his sight, presumably before his anger drove him to injure her.

“I can talk to her again,” Adam offered, nudging his borrowed glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Try to make it up to you.”

Blackwater slitted his eyes at him. “Oh, you’ll be making this up to me, one way or another.”

On that ominous note, he stalked to the compound’s entry, leaving Adam to trail behind, which he did reluctantly. One of Blackwater’s human goons was holding the door open.

“Where’s Vito?” the big boss demanded.

“Uh,” said the suited man, looking highly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but that last spell shorted Vito out. He dropped and went an hour after dinner.”

“Dropped and went?” Blackwater repeated dangerously. “Vito is dead?”

Such was Blackwater’s authority that, if they’d been wolves, the hulking goon would have been groveling on the floor. Instead, his shoulders hunched and his head ducked lower. “I’m sorry, sir. We didn’t know he was that bad off.”

“Didn’t know?” Blackwater screamed at him. He lashed out, taking the cringing man so harshly across his face that his gloved fist split the skin over one cheekbone. “What do I pay you idiots for?”

His employee put up no defense, just covered his bloodied cheek and bowed nervously. “Do you want me to call in another of the trained Talents?”

“I need them,” Blackwater huffed, his fit of rage easing. “They’ve still got plenty of juice left.”

The frightened goon’s eyes cut to Adam.

Uh, oh, Adam thought, not liking that even before Blackwater’s cool gaze joined in.

“Hey,” Adam said, hoping to head off whatever this was. “I’ve got juice left.”

“Yes, you do,” the boss man agreed. “But since you’re currently proving less useful than I’d hoped, I’ll have to squeeze a bit of it out early.”

~

Ari had been correct about the house having a basement. In contrast to the sleek white and gray ground floor, the basement was unfinished, low of ceiling, and wired like a spaghetti factory. Who needed a firebug when they had incompetent electricians? If the place hadn’t been built mainly of concrete block, Adam would have worried about them burning up in their beds.

The code violations couldn’t quite distract him from the fun he knew was coming.

The Eunuch’s hired muscle shoved him through what looked like the door to a utility room but turned out not to be. Adam fell to his hands and knees not on more cement, but on a smooth and tingling electrum floor. The alloy of gold and silver was ideal for holding magic, which was why security grills and charms were so often made from it. The more electrum got used, the better it worked—not unlike seasoning a cast iron pan. This electrum was warm under Adam’s palms, so it must have been used a lot. Adam concluded Blackwater’s pet sorcerers performed the majority of their rituals here.

As his eyes adjusted to the flickering florescent light, he discerned faint chalk lines on the burnished metal—probably the remnants of the spell that had killed the unfortunate Vito from New Jersey.

“Chain him,” Blackwater ordered from behind him.

Adam struggled, but not as hard as he could. Avoiding what was coming wouldn’t gain him much. Blackwater had more muscle to throw at him, some of it equal to his greater than human strength. He’d simply have betrayed an advantage he preferred keeping to himself for now. In any case, escaping before he had an exit strategy for Ari wasn’t an option. Whatever value she had for Blackwater, Adam couldn’t count on him not hurting her while he went for the cavalry.

On the other hand, Adam didn’t hesitate to give the door-goon and Francis a few oven-fresh bruises.

In the end, they chained him to eyebolts in the wall with four lengths of iron chain, his wrists and ankles spread like daVinci’s Vitruvian Man. The wall he was fastened to was bare but for water pipes. Metal storage shelves lined the others, holding items in mason jars and bowls that were best not examined closely. Many ingredients for ritual magic were every bit as disgusting as non-practitioners had heard.

More prosaic but hardly less alarming were a garden hose attached to a spigot, a handsaw, and a drain cut into the silvery-gold floor. Rust-like stains splotched the area around it. That they weren’t rust Adam felt pretty sure.

“Open it,” Blackwater said to his sorcerer.

Adam smelled Francis’s sudden anxiety. Nonetheless, he obeyed his boss’s cryptic order. He grabbed two raw quartz crystals from a shelf, plus a bowl of ingredients.

Adam’s stomach clenched when he recognized the new chalk pattern Francis knelt down to draw.

The sorcerer was opening an illegal portal, a door to a different dimension. It wasn’t a benign bunny realm either. The protective runes he worked into his circle were designed to contain highly unsafe energies.

Francis was no bunny himself, but he was sweating when he finished. He didn’t like the idea of opening this gate any more than Adam did. Adam was glad he’d activated his subdermal recorders back at the club. The Eunuch could get quite a few years in prison for what he’d asked Ari to do. For this act, if the dimension he was accessing was dangerous enough, he could get the needle.

The hidden bugs were designed to see and hear through Adam’s skin, and to survive his death by any number of gruesome means. Being grateful for that wasn’t the most heartening reaction he could have had.

“Ready, boss,” Francis said nervously.

Blackwater waved for him to proceed, the tension that had also come into him less than reassuring. Blackwater’s nerves were steelier than his employee’s, but he wasn’t calm either.

Francis knelt outside his circle, bowed his head, and began murmuring in the language of the high fae. Adam wasn’t fluent, but he knew enough to realize he was addressing an intelligent entity.

Great, Adam thought, sweat breaking out underneath his outstretched arms. Francis was summoning a demon.

Francis set fire to something black and squishy that had lain in the bowl. The two quartz crystals sat inside the chalk circle, maybe four feet apart. As the foul black thing burned, light streaked up from the quartz, inscribing the shape of a doorframe. Francis chanted louder, beads of sweat rolling down his temples as he began to shake. This spell was going to cost some sand from his hourglass, knowledge that wasn’t comforting Adam much.

“You sure your boy should be doing this?” he rasped. “He doesn’t look so hot.”

Not surprisingly, no one bothered to answer him.

The air within the light-door darkened and rippled. Adam smelled the tang of eucalyptus oil and sulfur. True to lore, sulfur rarely signified pleasant guests.

Crap, he thought. He did not want to die tonight, not when he’d finally found his twin flame.

In spite of his situation, his thoughts shocked him. He’d tried to deny what Ari was to him as superstitious nonsense, or as something too rare and fine for a down to earth wolf like him. Maybe he’d been afraid to hope for what his parents had. Maybe he’d thought he didn’t deserve it. Now, as he faced his death, those denials were stripped from him.

Ari was the mate to his spirit. Given a choice, he’d have chosen her. She was the whole package: brains, heart, a body that made him ache just to think about being holding it. How many cops would have been as good an undercover partner as she was? Nate was the best he knew, and Ari was nearly as quick-witted. Yes, she could have blown it big-time when she’d charged Darius to save Grant, but that just proved how brave and decent she was.

The only thing that could have made him prouder than loving her would be having her love him back.

He’d never know whether that could happen if he bit it tonight.

Cuz, he thought, your timing could be better.

“Who summons me?” uttered a voice like doom itself. The spink demon would have shivered had he been there, and that guy’s voice rivaled James Earl Jones.

“’tis I, Henry the Eunuch,” Blackwater answered formally.

A head materialized in the gloom of the door. The demon wasn’t hideous, merely foreign, its skin the color of indigo. Scarcely any flesh lay between its skin and skull, giving it a starved appearance. It had two large dark eyes, one sharp nose, and a wide lipless mouth full of white pointy teeth. Its ears were holes and its scalp was hairless. Black veins branched in strangely graceful trees through its dark blue skin. Though Adam had seen stranger creatures, he couldn’t recall feeling worse. This demon radiated malevolence and hunger, even through the protective wards. It made Adam glad Francis appeared to know what he was doing.

It also made him wish Francis didn’t currently look like Death warmed over.

“Where is my payment?” the demon asked.

“It’s almost ready,” Blackwater said with admirable sang-froid. “Only a few details remain to put in place.”

“You’re cutting it a little close,” the demon observed. “You know what I’ll take instead if I don’t get it by your full moon.”

“I am aware,” Blackwater said, bowing.

The demon’s use of slang sent unease skittering down Adam’s spine. Blackwater must have been summoning it for a while, long enough that it had become familiar with their realm, long enough that it probably hoped to gain entry. Call Adam crazy, but he didn’t think this particular demon could meet the Department of Immigration’s qualifications for a work visa.

“In the meantime,” Blackwater continued, still in his bowed posture, “I thought you might accept a token of my respect.”

As Blackwater waved toward Adam, the demon seemed to notice other people were in the room outside its portal. Its eyes narrowed and its nostrils flared. The latter worried Adam more than the former.

If a non-were knew what to look for, it was possible to identify a were by smell. Once a year, at their annual checkup, Adam and his detectives had a spell renewed to reduce the chance of that happening. So many wolves went into police work that being “sniffed out”—as it was called—was tantamount to flashing their badges.

Fortunately, the demon either couldn’t read his underlying nature or didn’t think it worth mentioning. A long blue tongue flicked out of its toothy mouth. “There in the chains?” it asked.

Blackwater confirmed the guess.

“It looks strong,” the demon said, an extra huskiness entering its voice. “You could hurt it quite a bit without it losing consciousness.”

Blackwater straightened, relaxing now that his gift had been accepted. “I shall endeavor to please,” he said.

Again, the blue tongue licked out. “Your magician must cut a hole in the portal. So the pain can flow in.”

“He will cut a small one,” Blackwater said.

“Not too small.”

The demon was panting now, which caused Blackwater to smile as he turned toward Adam. “Do it,” he said in a low aside to Francis, who was hollow-eyed and sweating. “But no larger than the last time.”

Blackwater took the cattails to Adam with his own hand, whipping him as firmly he would any strong human. Though skilled, he seemed unmoved by the procedure, neither hating nor loving it. Adam supposed the Eunuch’s sadistic bent was more psychological. The same could not be said of the demon. Its enjoyment of Adam’s pain, as it drank it through the coin-sized hole in the portal, was unabashedly sexual. It moaned when Adam did, though for different reasons. When Blackwater laid one final lash across Adam’s nipples, the demon groaned like it was coming.

“Again,” it pleaded, its breathing harsher than Adam’s. “Do that to it again.”

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Blackwater cautioned. “You might become overly excited and forget your judgment before your peers.”

The demon snarled, baring its many sharp white teeth. It stopped after a moment and shook itself in a distinctly animal fashion. Evidently, Blackwater had chosen the right warning, though he might not want to hold his breath waiting to be thanked.

“You are cleverness itself,” the demon said, and it didn’t sound like a compliment. “Next time, Henry the Eunuch, you’d better bring the pureheart with you.”

Chapter Nine

ARI had paced so much she’d gotten tired of it. She was sitting with her knees clasped to her chest in the corner opposite the door when it swung open.

Darius and a guard she hadn’t seen before dragged Adam in between them. Adam was moaning softly, his head lolling. His shirt was so red that for a second she thought he’d been given a different one.

Realizing he hadn’t, Ari leaped to her feet. “What did you do to him?”

The guards lowered Adam to his back on the bare futon, more or less carefully. His shirt was in ribbons. His bloodied skin had made her think it was new color. His jeans weren’t as ripped up, but the denim was black and wet. She didn’t know what had happened to his glasses. Then she noticed he wasn’t moaning any more.

“Oh my God,” she said. A terror like none she’d ever felt gripped her. Her parents kicking her out when she was seventeen hadn’t been this bad. If Adam died . . . If she lost him . . .

Darius cut through her panic. “The boss is careful about this stuff. He won’t die.”

“You mean he won’t die tonight,” she exclaimed angrily. “When the Eunuch wants him to, he will.”

Darius didn’t avoid her gaze, though his expression was impassive. “If your friend will let you, wash out his wounds. You don’t want them to get infected.”

He turned and walked to the door with the other man. Ari ran to the futon where Adam lay.

“Bring blankets,” she snapped at the departing guards. “He could go into shock. And he’ll need clean clothes to wear.”

The door shut without either man responding. Ari pressed her hands to her mouth.

“’s okay,” Adam rasped in a rough whisper. “Only whipped me as hard . . . as an ordinary man.”

Ari laughed a little hysterically. As long as it had been an ordinary whipping, that was all right. At the sound of her choked amusement, Adam worked his eyes open. His pupils were contracted, his soft green irises brighter than normal. Ari was afraid to touch him.

“What can I do? I don’t know first aid.”

“The blankets were a good idea.”

Ari swiped at her damp cheeks. “They do that for people on TV.”

He smiled at her, his head turning slightly on the futon. “Take my hand. That part of me doesn’t hurt.”

His wrists must have. They were bruised from yanking hard at something. “Did they chain you?”

“I let them.” He squeezed her fingers. “Didn’t . . . want to give the game away.”

He’d done this for her, so she wouldn’t be left in danger if he escaped. More tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. Adam tried to lift his hand to them but winced. “Ari, you don’t have to cry for me.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “I’ll stop any second now.”

His smile made her feel like her ribs were being squeezed. “God, I love you,” he said.

That shocked her into drying up. Her breath caught in a hiccup. The only people who’d ever told her that were Max and Sarah. Her parents hadn’t even said it to each other.

“I—” she said, then had to close her mouth.

“I know,” he soothed. “Sometimes it’s hard to say.”

“I like you,” she said, unaccountably defensive. “A lot.”

“I know.” His smile broadened.

This was ridiculous. She wasn’t going to discuss her feelings while he was lying there bleeding. A knock sounded on the door. She jumped up and went to it, reaching for the knob before she remembered there wasn’t one. When it opened, Darius handed a stack of blankets and clothes to her. An orange prescription bottle sat on top.

“The pills help fight infection,” he said.

Ari gaped at him.

“It’s all I can do. If the boss decides to kill him, that’s going to be that.”

The spink sounded as defensive as she had. He pulled the door toward himself. “Thank you,” she said before it shut.

She walked back to Adam in a daze. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing more deeply, but not as if he were sleeping. His big chest went in and out like he was trying to calm himself.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Pain’s kicking in. I think . . . you could take me into the shower.”

She hardly knew where to grab him to help him up, but somehow she managed it. “You’re burning up,” she said as he leaned heavily on her. It had to be a were thing. He was way hotter than a fever could account for.

“Uh-huh,” he said, his jaw gritting. “Think I need cold water.”

They were at the little bathroom’s threshold when he bent forward and groaned alarmingly. Was Darius wrong? Had Blackwater unintentionally injured something crucial?

“Shit,” Adam gasped, one arm clutched around his stomach. “Get me in there and shut the door.”

She got him in and lowered him to sit on the rim of the tiny tub. Her fear that his answers might be direr than she could handle kept her questions inside. He started to undress, which seemed stupid to her, seeing that he was in pain.

“All right,” she said when he wouldn’t stop. “Just let me take over.”

He let her remove his shoes and peel off the scraps of his shirt, a process that made her suck in her breath more than once. He was stoic compared to her. When she reached for the waist button of his jeans, his bowed head lifted.

His green eyes glowed like they had lasers behind them.

“Oh God,” she breathed. His canine teeth had slid out, and she didn’t think the reason was arousal. “Adam, are you going to . . .”

She trailed off. She didn’t know if the watching spells were on, or if they worked in here. She guessed the room’s anti-spelling wards wouldn’t stop this particular form of magic. What would happen if he turned into his wolf? Would he try to eat her?”

He panted, and it didn’t sound quite human. Perhaps he heard the strangeness as well. He swallowed, fighting back the transformation. “My body . . . wants to,” he said, low and gravelly. “I’d heal faster if I did. Just—” He screwed his eyes shut, some invisible force seeming to roll through him. “Just turn on the cold water. The urge will . . . ease off if I cool down.”

Ari rose and turned on the spray, figuring this would be faster than running a cold bath.

“Are we being watched?” she asked as low as she could. Since he clearly couldn’t stand, she helped him sit in his jeans on the tub bottom.

Adam hissed in a breath as the icy water hit the wounds in his chest. The streams were pink where they ran off him. He shook his head tightly. “Not here. Not now.”

“Then maybe you should, you know, let yourself go.”

He jackknifed forward like a pregnant woman having a contraction. Muscles moved beside his spine that really shouldn’t have been there. “No,” he said once he’d stopped groaning.

“Are you, um, afraid you’d eat me?”

He laughed in spite of his agony. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m still me inside my wolf form. The problem is the moon isn’t full. It’d take too long to turn back. We can’t afford for me to be outed. Werewolf equals cop for most people.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well.”

He opened his eyes, the last of his spasm seeming to have passed. His canines were still longer than normal, but his eyes weren’t glowing. “Talk to me,” he said. “Give me a distraction.”

The threat of being eaten might have been preferable. “Um, does changing form usually hurt?”

“No.” His fingers gripped the tub’s rim. “When the moon lends its power, it happens very naturally.”

“So a little kid like Ethan isn’t going to be writhing around in pain?”

Adam’s nailbeds whitened. “Ari, this might not be the best topic to calm me down.”

“What should I talk about then?” she asked.

He leaned gingerly back against the tub’s sloped end. “Tell me a story from when you were little. Maybe how you found out you had your gift.”

The shower had washed his dark hair in front of his eyes. Ari reached out to stroke it back. Because this seemed to soothe him, she kept it up. “I was four or so. I’d been misbehaving, and my mother took away this little stuffed dog I had. I made it float back to me. She screamed like she was auditioning for Saw XII.”

“Mm,” Adam said, his eyes closed now. “Then what?”

“I didn’t use my gift again until I was six. I think my mother convinced herself she’d imagined it, but that time my father saw it too. My parents were . . . religious, but not in a nice way. Uptight religious. They said I had the devil’s mark on me. They ordered me not to do it anymore or they’d send me away.”

Her voice had gone husky. Adam gathered her hand in his and rested both on the tub rim. “Could you not do it?”

“I managed not to where anyone could see. In private, though . . . It was like an itch. I had to let it out sometimes.”

She shivered, but that might have been the cold water—and the fact that she still wore the short fringed dress. Adam’s thumb caressed her knuckles. Touching her seemed to relax him, which certainly relaxed her. “How did you end up on the street?”

Ari let out a long sigh. “I had a friend. Her name was Liv, and we’d been best friends since kindergarten. We did everything together, even got dumped by our first boyfriends on the same day.”

“Did she know about your gift?”

“No.” Ari fell quiet, and Adam didn’t push. He still looked tense, so after a moment, she continued. If he’d wanted a happier story, he should have asked for it. “Liv and I were in our senior year of high school. She was way more popular than me. Straight A’s. No trouble with the principal. But she always stuck by me anyway. I was meeting her after cheerleading practice. I wasn’t on the squad. I was kind of a Goth by then. She was teasing me because she claimed the quarterback had a crush on me, and that was going to put this other cheerleader’s nose out of joint. We were crossing the grass outside the practice field, laughing, when out of nowhere this tree fell on her.

“There must have been too much rain, because it hadn’t looked sickly. The trunk pinned her underneath. There were a few other kids around. One called 911, but a branch stub had gone into her and she was bleeding bad. She was so scared. And paper white. She held my hand the way you are. She couldn’t talk, but her eyes were locked on mine, like she was pleading for me to do something. I thought maybe she knew. And then I realized whether she did didn’t matter. She was my friend. I could help.

“I’d never moved anything that big, but I moved that tree. I healed for the first time too. Blood was pouring out of her where the branch had gone in. I closed my eyes, and I made it stop. It was like that adrenaline strength they say mothers get who lift cars off their children. I needed to help her so badly somehow I could.”

“Did Liv survive?”

“She did.” Ari blew out her breath. “She walked again and everything. And she never spoke to me after that.” She saw from Adam’s expression that this surprised him. “We were a little God-fearing community. Football and God, in about that order. What I’d done frightened people. I suspect most of them approved of my parents kicking me out.”

“That’s— That’s just wrong,” Adam said, clearly having forgotten his own troubles. “Your parents were stupid, but that girl Liv was your friend.”

Ari stroked Adam’s still-warm cheek. “I like to think she still is. I like to think she only stopped talking to me because other people put so much pressure on her. Iowa isn’t Resurrection. The things I can do aren’t normal there.”

Adam’s mouth quirked unexpectedly. “You said you were from Kansas.”

“I lied. Habit. There were a couple stories in the local papers. I didn’t want to risk anyone connecting them to me.”

“So your friends in New York . . . ?”

“Are the only people who know the truth. To be honest, they’re my only friends in the world.”

His eyes flared softly. “Not your only friends. Whatever you do or don’t feel for me, I am a friend to you.”

~

Ari might not love Adam back, but he could tell seeing him hurt upset her. When his body cooled from the shower at last, she helped him out of the tub, dried him gently with a towel, and bundled him into bed with the blankets Darius had brought. She made him take the antibiotic before she crawled in too, curling herself carefully next to him. Her presence was as comforting as if she’d been pack. She found an uninjured spot on his arm to nestle her head against.

He was childish enough to enjoy all of it. Exhausted from the whipping as well as fighting off his change, the mightiness of his yawn shook him. He was lucky he wasn’t human. The energy the demon stole would have taken much longer to restore itself.

“Sleep,” she said, stopping herself from patting his wounded chest at the last moment.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, knowing he couldn’t rest just yet. “Before the watching spells go back on.”

She went up on her elbow, one hand coming up to stroke his hair. That was almost too soothing, but he fought past the languor rather than ask her stop.

“Blackwater thinks you’re a pureheart. He wants to sacrifice you to a demon.”

If he hadn’t been running on fumes, he’d have put this more delicately. Ari sat straight up and stared at him. One side of her spiky platinum mop was wilted, where the shower spray had doused it. White showed around her eyes. “A demon?”

“He’s been summoning one in the basement. He’s got a balloon payment coming due at the next full moon, which is also when he must be getting whatever prize he bargained for.”

“And I’m the balloon payment.”

“It sounded that way to me. It would explain why he wanted you to injure Mariska Andoor. Purehearts can only be sacrificed after they’ve been led into sin.”

Ari coughed out a laugh. “If Blackwater thinks I’m pure, he hasn’t been paying attention.”

“It doesn’t mean pure as in virginal.” Adam pulled her nearer hand into his. “Pureheart refers to someone who’s true to their own sense of right and wrong. It’s about personal integrity, not a particular moral code. You could sleep with every man you met, but if you didn’t think that was wrong, it wouldn’t sully your energy. You being a Talent and a believer on top of that make you the trifecta of tasty demon treats.”

Ari was shaking her head. “I’m sorry. Me pure? Or a believer? That sounds like the opposite of who I am.”

“Does it? Despite what your parents told you about your gift, your password is Godlovesme2. You came here to face down a dangerous crime boss because you don’t want to kill people. Even threatening your best friends couldn’t make you harm Mariska.”

“My friends wouldn’t have wanted me to. They’re the goodhearted ones.”

“Ari, you said yourself Blackwater’s gift is finding valuable people. He’s betting his own life that you’re this thing.”

Ari tried to pull away from him, but he kept her hand firmly caught in his. He needed her to take this seriously. After a bit, she stopped tugging.

“If I’m so valuable pure, which I’m not saying I believe, why does Blackwater want me to sin?”

“There are different theories about why, but sinning seems to gives a demon magical permission to take the pureheart’s soul. Too many sins, and your soul loses its mojo. If there’s only one big transgression, you supply a demon with so much juice he might jump a couple ranks among his own people. Demons are no different from other species that way. They enjoy being top dog.”

Ari shuddered, and he decided not to tell her this particular demon siphoned off power through pain—a drug Blackwater seemed to be encouraging it to crave. Ari shifted uncomfortably on the futon. “What does Blackwater get out of this?”

“I don’t know yet. Probably a spell only a demon can do. Maybe being kicked up to Level Two in power wasn’t enough for him. Whatever he wants, he’s burning through an awful lot of resources to accomplish it.”

Ari gnawed her lower lip.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but you should be forewarned.”

“No, you’re right.” Her eyes focused down on him. “I needed to know this.”

“It’s important you don’t give in. No matter what or who he threatens you with.”

“Right,” Ari said, nodding.

“Even if it’s me, sweetheart. This demon isn’t the kind any reasonable person would want to get more power. If it got loose in this realm, it would be bad. Lots of people would die in very unpleasant ways. I wouldn’t want to be the one who had to catch it.”

A look crossed her face that touched his heart and made him uneasy at the same time. She did care about him, maybe more than she was prepared to admit.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Promise you won’t do anything you know is wrong just to protect me.”

Her eyebrows puckered above her nose. “I can’t promise,” she whispered.

Her words jolted him. They had to be both the best and the scariest anyone ever said to him. The temptation to reach through their moon bond to read her emotions proved too much to resist. The love and worry he found inside her knocked him on his metaphoric ass.

She cared so much it frightened her.

“Ari,” he said, breathing her name in awe.

He sat up, ignoring the pulling of the healing wounds on his chest. His own love had swelled big enough to drown him. When he cupped her cheek, she tensed.

“What?” she asked warily. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Her pretty little face took on a look of horror. “Were you snooping inside my head?”

He smiled and brushed one fingertip along her soft cheekbone. “Don’t be afraid, darling. Your heart is safe with me. I’d break my own before I hurt yours.”

She shrank away in alarm. “Adam . . .”

He caught her jaw and kissed her softly.

“Adam, don’t—”

Evidently, if she was still talking, that last kiss wasn’t good enough. He slanted his head, covered her lips, and slipped his tongue in too. She moaned as it cozied alongside hers. Encouraged, he massaged her neck and went deeper. After suffering so much pain, his nerves were ready for pleasure. Waves of lovely sensations rolled through his body as her mouth tentatively answered his. When he’d gotten out of the tub, she helped him drag off his wet jeans. Now he was naked under the warm blankets. His penis rose freely as the kiss drew out, stiffening in delicious little surges until it stood straight up. Adam groaned and pushed Ari backward, knowing exactly where he wanted to bury the aching rod.

“You’ll hurt yourself,” she gasped as she toppled back.

He reached under the short fringed dress to pull her tiny panties down her strong legs.

“Adam . . .”

“You just keep saying my name,” he teased.

Her legs spread as he crawled forward over her, her body telling him what she wanted no matter what her mouth said. She started to put her hand on his chest to stop him, then remembered his injuries. The feelings that fought for precedence in her expression were comical—concern and annoyance being the biggest two.

The story she’d told him was very fresh in his mind. This girl deserved much more than she’d been given.

“I love you,” he growled. “You’re my mate whether you want to see it or not. I need to show you how much I care.”

Her gaze settled on his mouth where his upper fangs had dropped. His cock throbbed hard when her tongue snuck out to wet her lip. The ache in Adam’s chest shifted to amusement once more. His mate had a nice little wolf fetish going there.

“I don’t want you to start bleeding again,” she said.

“I won’t if I’m on top. I know how to be careful.”

He knew her sense of humor had returned when she let out a muffled snort. “You like being on top regardless.”

“I like doing everything with you. Every fucking goddamned thing.”

Her eyes widened at his fierceness, their lust mingling together in the most wonderful aroma. To him, the smell was better than faerie dust. He dropped his head to nuzzle her neck. Her hands tangled in his hair.

“A-dam.”

Oh yeah, he liked hearing her saying his name. Balancing on one elbow, he followed his cock’s pussy radar straight to the hottest, creamiest part of her. He knew this was where they both wanted him to be.

Her back arched as he pushed the head in. Bliss closed his eyes, but only for a second. He wanted to watch her, but God she felt good. Tight. Hot. Her inner muscles rippling in reaction. He was big compared to her, but the generosity of her wetness meant he didn’t have to stop, just take his time pressing into those satiny clinging depths. Halfway in, her nipples tightened. Not wanting to miss that, he tugged the top of her dress down to admire them.

She moaned as he seated himself balls deep. Her legs moved restlessly with pleasure, her hands fisting in the blankets to either side of her.

Adam thought he’d never in his life seen anything so hot.

“You can touch me,” he panted. “Only my front was whipped.”

Her eyes were dazed when she opened them. “You fill me,” she said. “Like nobody ever has.”

It wasn’t I love you, but right then it was close enough.

“Touch me,” he repeated hoarsely. “I need you stroking me.”

She put her hands on his back. Something in her face stilled him where he was. “Thank you for loving me,” she said shyly.

That was it then. He had to move, though he thrust in and out as gently, as tenderly as he could. They both groaned at how incredible the slick friction felt, their bodies joined in that intimate spot, their pleasure twice as intense for being shared. He wanted it to go on forever, to fuck her just like this till the end of time.

About ten minutes into nirvana, he remembered he needed protection.

Oh . . . fuck, he thought, wanting to groan aloud. He knew he ought to pull out. He must have been seeping pre-cum since before he entered her. He certainly would be now. He was way too worked up for his dick not to be leaking up a storm. Weres had great immune systems and weren’t prone to STDs, but the very vitality of their constitutions insured even small amounts of semen might hit a bull’s eye.

Naturally, since he was at that age for baby hunger, the mere thought of impregnating his beloved hardened him even more.

I will pull out, he swore to himself. Just five more thrusts. Nice long slow ones. Or ten. Or maybe—

Ari nearly shattered him by shoving her hand in between their groins. “Sorry,” she said, her middle finger working hard on her clit. “You’re so sexy it’s killing me. If I don’t come soon, I’m going to die.”

“I could do—”

“No,” she interrupted, her face twisting as she fingered herself faster. “You need bo . . . both hands to hold up your weight. So you won’t hurt yourself.”

Maybe he did, or maybe she was turning him on too much not to be glad she wanted to do this herself. She came in under a minute, groaning and shaking for longer than it had taken her to go over. He kept gliding in and out, giving her something to contract against. As she settled, she blinked up at him and squirmed around his next thrust. When he smiled at her, the orgasmic flush on her cheeks darkened.

“You want another,” he guessed.

“It felt so good with you moving like that inside me. Adam, you’re just so hard.”

She sounded like she was apologizing for wanting more pleasure. He dropped his head and kissed her, growling his denial into her mouth. Their tongues battled in the sweetest possible way. The way she sucked his canines stood up his hair with lust. A pulse like an alarm bell tapped the base of his cock, warning him his bulbus glandis was activating.

That only happened when he was very close to shooting.

“Give yourself another,” he rasped. “Just make it quick and, whatever you do, don’t get in the way of me pulling out at the end.”

Ari’s eyes widened as his meaning registered. “Oh boy, I completely forgot.”

“Me too. But I think we’ll be all right—or not any worse—as long as I don’t come inside of you.”

If she’d asked him to pull out, he would have. She bit her lip in indecision, her pelvis rocking a restless inch up and down his immensely swollen shaft. As snugly as she fit him, the pressure of her entrance did impossibly pleasurable things to his bulbus gland. That pleasure spread deep into his balls, now tight enough to hurt. The tip of his penis felt like it was stretching.

“I should pull out,” he said uneasily.

“No.” She shook her head, her hand moving decisively on her clit again. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

He wasn’t certain she could be quick enough. He thrust again, because it felt so good, and because he knew she loved it. Those long slow probes pressed him to his climactic edge. He bit his lip to keep from going over. Nerves that normally would have long since exploded held onto ever sharper sensations. Holding back strained him worse than the whipping had.

“You’re close?” she gasped, her hips rocking more wildly against his.

He couldn’t speak. Tears were squeezing from his eyes at the pleasure and the need rocketing through him.

“Fin—” ish, he tried to say. Obeying some instinct stronger than he was, he shoved his cock inside her as far as it would go.

She went with it jammed up against her womb, the contractions that marked her climax bliss and torment as they gripped him.

He couldn’t last until they ended. The pressure in his balls went critical a second before his gland contracted. He yanked out without even breath for cursing and fisted himself madly. He had to rub fast, or he’d shove back in her. As it was, he was pointing his cock at her, his grip clicking in the wetness her pussy had left on him. Ari pulled her rumpled dress further up her belly, baring it to him, and that plain sent him into crazy land.

He was going to mark her. With his seed. With his scent. With his white hot come all over that silky perspiring skin. He kneed up closer to her belly and propped himself on one arm, desperate to get every drop on her. Ari knew what was coming. She cradled his balls and thumbed his bulbus at the same time.

He lifted off like the freaking space shuttle. His head flung back as the orgasm roared from him. He needed every scrap of self-control he had not to howl like the wolf he was. For about six seconds, his thoughts were completely blanked by ecstasy. Then he wrenched his head back the other way.

He had to watch the rest of his seed spurt on her.

He milked himself until no more came, his ragged breaths practically sobbing out of him. When Ari rubbed his emissions into her skin, the satisfaction that swelled inside him was as strong as an orgasm.

To his wolf side, this meant she accepted him.

“I love you,” he sighed, his weight dropping wearily to his heels.

The whip marks on his chest were bleeding a bit, probably from tensing to hold off his orgasm. Ari sat up, her legs splayed around him, her hands stroking soothingly up his arms. She couldn’t have known it, but her touch felt the same as if she were pack. She was inside the circle of the folks who belonged to him. Her big blue eyes stared gravely into his.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever met,” she said.

This wasn’t I love you either, but Adam liked it nearly as much.

Trembling from exertion, he lay down beside her with his palm spread possessively over her navel. She pulled up the blankets to cover them. Her head turned toward him. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really? ’cause you look kind of wrecked.”

He laughed through his nose. “The last bit of ‘wrecking’ isn’t something I’d take back. I’ll be fine once I sleep an hour or two.”

“Okay.” Her smaller hand covered his on her belly, which was a bit sticky. “Don’t be upset if I get up later to shower.”

She understood him better than she realized. He dropped into slumber with a smile on his face.

He was flying. Wings stuck out from the fire tattoos on his wrists. As he flapped his arms, he wheeled in lazy circles around the Eunuch’s boring white block house. His mind was very strong for his age, maybe because he asked it to act in ways his people didn’t usually attempt. He thought if he concentrated, and if he got close enough, he could reach the person he was concerned about. There ought to be some link between them. He had participated in the spell that gave the other were the gift of creating fire. Plus, his new friend did have a touch of Sight.

Grant? Adam thought confusedly through his dream.

Yes! he cried exultantly in his own head. Weirdly, it felt like both sides of this conversation were originating from him.

Grant, he said, in case he wasn’t imagining the communication. You shouldn’t have come back. The Eunuch’s men have orders to shoot you down.

I’m fast, he seemed to think to himself. I wanted you to know I told your team where you are. If you have what you need, they can pick you up by morning.

Adam’s gratitude was extraordinary. Yes, he thought to his internal image of the gargoyle. Tell them I have the evidence we need. And that they should come with back up.

Ari is okay? Grant asked.

She’s fine, Adam assured him, amused by the fondness he sensed through the connection. The gargoyle seemed to have a small interspecies crush, one that thankfully wasn’t big enough to raise his hackles. Now get out of here before you’re spotted.

A sound like a muffled gas explosion yanked him out of his dream—if that’s what it had been. He reached for Ari, but she wasn’t on the futon. The shower was running, which explained where she was. Adam stretched out his Sight to see if he could perceive Grant’s presence. Instead, he found the watch spells running. With an unpleasant lurch, he realized he couldn’t remember when they’d gone on.

Had they been active when he fell asleep? And before that? While he and Ari were making love? He’d told Ari he loved her. He wouldn’t relish Blackwater having heard that, but at least Ari hadn’t said it back. Blackwater was hoping to manipulate her behavior, not Adam’s.

Then again, if Adam could read the signs that she might love him, would a sharp tack like Blackwater be blind to them?

The muffled whump of a second explosion reverberated through the walls of the house. Adam was alarmed enough to jump to his feet. Grant must be under attack.

Ari burst out of the bathroom a second later in hastily drawn on jeans and a damp T-shirt. Her wet blonde hair was plastered to her head. “What was that?”

“I’m afraid Grant’s in trouble,” he said.

~

Ari didn’t have sufficient curse words for this. She’d been hoping Darius wouldn’t follow Blackwater’s orders too closely. He didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt people.

Of course, if someone else was handling shoot-down-the-gargoyle duty, Darius’s semi-reluctance would be moot.

“We have to help him,” she said, dashing to the cell room door. She pressed her hands to the surface where the handle was on the other side. “I can’t let Grant die for me.”

Trying to get her telekinesis to work was like trying to force super-glued gears to turn. Pain throbbed in her temples as she struggled to pull power past the wards. She’d moved that damned tree all those years ago. She ought to be able to break through a damping spell. There was magic to draw on here. She just had to get to it. She ignored the warning tremor in her right arm, but an odd crackling sensation in the cartilage of her nose broke her concentration. When she brought her hand up, she was bleeding.

She pushed her dismay at that aside. A nosebleed was an improvement over an all-out fit.

“Ari,” Adam said, his grip warm on her shoulder. “You can’t get through these shields. Blackwater’s sorcerers are experts.”

She wasn’t going to cry. She was too damned angry. “I’m going to kill that fuckhead.”

Adam pulled her against him. His chest was hard and broad, and she was instantly, irrationally comforted. His skin was warm velvet beneath her cheek.

“You’re naked,” she pointed out.

He smiled into her hair before pushing back from her. “Right. No more nakedness when we might have to fight something.”

He pulled on the clothes Darius had brought, his beautiful body disappearing into baggy gray sweats and a white T-shirt. Evidently, everything Blackwater’s employees wore had to match his house’s color palette. If Ari got out of here alive, she was going to wear lime green and purple for a whole year.

“Want to see if you can peek out the window?” Adam offered.

The square of glass was barred and set high up in the wall. By kneeling on Adam’s shoulders, Ari could steady herself with the silvery-gold bars. It was dark outside, but the security lights were on. Through the branches of a tree, she spied the gated end of the drive. Since the turnabout was empty, this was not helpful. On the other hand, if she got the bars off and broke the glass, she thought the window might be big enough for her to squirm through. Now if only she could find some way to get at the power out there . . .

“Don’t,” Adam said before she could do more than inhale. “The spells are twice as strong on the window. You can’ t help Grant if you give yourself an aneurysm.”

Ari frowned, not sure she liked such sensible advice. “Maybe I could try to—”

The room’s door banged open, startling both of them. What looked like a horde of guards burst in. These goons were in black camo rather than the usual gangster suits. They carried the same crazy rifles the cops had used, which they pointed at Ari and Adam.

“Away from the window,” one of them ordered. “Hands where we can see them. Don’t try anything funny.”

“Whoa,” Adam said. “Just let me help her get down.”

After barking out a few more mistrustful orders, they let him help her to the floor. Ari had a perverse sense of satisfaction at being considered dangerous.

“Walk ahead of us,” said the lead soldier.

He and his companions prodded her and Adam with the tips of their rifles, forcing them through the house and up a set of utility stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Ari asked their captors, unable to keep silent. “Where are you taking us?”

The muzzle in her back jabbed harder.

Despite the weaponry, she didn’t get the impression they were going to be shot. The soldiers could have done that back in the cell. Adam shrugged at her when she sought his eyes. He seemed relatively calm—not happy, but not like he thought the end was nigh.

Naturally, they both could have been wrong about that.

They were pushed out onto the compound’s flat walled roof, where more soldier-guards were gathered. Apparently, Blackwater had quite the tin pot dictator’s army—maybe five dozen in addition to his regular personnel. She wondered if this meant something big was happening. From the rueful twist of Adam’s mouth, he hadn’t expected these numbers.

The armed crowd parted as she and Adam emerged from the stairwell.

Their movement revealed a shape on the roof, bound down against it by steel cables, like an unstable load on a big rig truck. One of the soldiers poked a spear at the small mountain. Electricity crackled from the metal tip. The big shape whuffed like it was too weary to make any other sound. The back of one batlike wing lifted.

“Oh my God,” Ari breathed.

They’d caught Grant. He was still alive, which was good, but the heavy bondage: not so much. She bit her lip as the soldier tasered him again. She suspected it wouldn’t help if she protested.

When she tore her attention away from Grant’s suffering, Henry Blackwater’s gaze was waiting. He stood behind Grant, partially hidden by the gargoyle’s bulk. Blood had splashed the front of his trademark cream linen suit. Ari couldn’t remember ever seeing him dirty. For no reason she could explain, she was suddenly aware of the stars twinkling in the deep black sky that stretched above him.

“Ari,” he said pleasantly.

Her jaw worked for a second before she could speak. “I’m fucking going to kill you, Eunuch.”

His smile jerked and faded. She didn’t think she’d called him that to his face before. Maybe no one had in that tone. He recovered too soon for her taste.

“Everyone needs a dream. Why don’t you come see what we caught in our net?”

He beckoned her toward him. Since he could force her, she didn’t see the point in dragging her feet. She ordered herself to keep her temper under control. She knew Blackwater and his games. She would need a clear head for this.

As she stepped around Grant’s body, the gargoyle opened his eyes. She’d never have guessed goblin eyes could be beautiful, but his were. Within his stone-gray face, they were as yellow as polished citrines, with vertical cat pupils. They sparkled in the roof lights, tears of pain adding to their luster. She couldn’t speak to him. She hoped he knew she was sorry.

Blackwater’s hand dropped heavily onto her shoulder. “You’re going to kill this for me,” he said.

A sound broke in Ari’s throat. When she twisted to look at Blackwater, his little pleased smile was back. This was the sin he hoped she’d commit. He must have thought it wouldn’t seem as bad as maiming Mariska Andoor: the death of an alleged pigeon versus a talented singer lost forever. If Adam was right about her being a pureheart, as long as she thought the lesser evil was bad enough, it would suit his purposes.

She knew she’d brought on this confrontation the moment she tried to defend the gargoyle from Darius.

“I won’t,” she said quietly.

Blackwater’s grin broadened. “Are you truly so tenderhearted? It’s nothing but a pest.”

Grant was a person, one who’d risked his life to help her and Adam, one who’d crowed with excitement at gaining his first home. God knew Ari didn’t want to die, but she couldn’t kill Grant to save herself.

“I won’t,” she repeated.

Blackwater beamed. “Ari, Ari, Ari, you’ve no idea how elated I am to hear that, especially since I’m going to give you a choice. Kill the gargoyle, or I’ll kill your lover. You know, the fellow who swears he’d sooner break his own heart than hurt yours? Truly, I’m insulted you didn’t think I’d notice you were in love. Haven’t you learned I make a point of knowing all my employees’ weaknesses?”

Adam made a sound as if he would speak.

“Oh, do!” Blackwater cut him off chirpily. “Do tell her to let me kill you! It’s so delightfully trite. It won’t save the flying squirrel, of course. You’re the only one I’m offering to let live tonight.”

He was rubbing his hands together, practically giggling. Ari noticed she wasn’t the only person looking at him askance. Henry Blackwater didn’t express joy this way.

Grant’s low moan pulled her from her amazement. She fell to her knees beside him. No one stopped her. Perhaps they knew she couldn’t do anything for him. The surface of the roof was warded, as was the net of cables that held him. She couldn’t free Grant without magic, or heal the wounds she now saw scoring his wings and side. His blood smelled like it was spiced. Ari’s palm had landed in a pool of it.

When she patted his front lion leg, she felt like she was trying to comfort an old-style Volkswagen minibus. Grant’s tired eyes were as big as hubcaps.

Level Five! she heard as a faint echo in her mind. Hello, Ari.

Ari jerked in surprise, and immediately tried to hide the movement. Her fingers clenched deeper in his warm gray fur. Grant was communicating telepathically. Maybe them being so close together gave him that ability. She was pretty sure most people in Resurrection wouldn’t have guessed he could.

I’m sorry, she thought as forcefully as she could. I never meant to get you in trouble.

Hush, came the answer. You. Me. Words not good head. Watch picture.

Did he mean he couldn’t communicate to her mind-to-mind with words? And what picture was he talking about? She didn’t see any—

Her vision disappeared as images slammed her. She saw herself standing over Grant, one of the soldier’s spear things gripped in her upraised hands. She plunged the blade downward into his heart, the location of which Grant sent her. Grant lay still, blood spreading out under him. Blackwater bent to check his pulse, seeming to pronounce him dead. Like a silent film unreeling, everyone left the roof. Alone then, a glow began to surround Grant’s body, until he was bathed in radiance. He burst through the cables that held him and flew up into the sky.

No sin, Grant’s voice came more weakly. You still pure. Demon be mad. My people enemy die.

Did Grant mean it was okay to kill him because he believed he’d go to gargoyle heaven? Ari was no atheist, but she was far from certain about an afterlife.

I forgive, Grant said. No sin you. This . . . only way.

She felt the connection between them shut off. Maybe Grant closed it. Maybe he’d run out of strength. The furry foreleg she petted was very still.

“Well?” Blackwater said, breaking into her thoughts. “Let’s have a decision.”

Ari rose shakily. She didn’t look at Adam. She didn’t want what was on his face to influence her.

“I’ll take the spear,” she said.

Chapter Ten

ADAM forced himself not to look at Ari, in case his expression gave away his thoughts. He’d done enough of that already. Though he wasn’t in on it, he’d sensed a communication between Ari and the gargoyle. Could Grant speak in her mind the way he’d spoken in Adam’s dream? He hoped Grant had a plan—like breaking free of his bonds and blasting Blackwater’s men to bits with his Level Eight magic. That would probably be too easy. Gargoyles worked in teams, and who knew how well even they could function in this warding?

He hoped Blackwater wasn’t thinking along these lines. He seemed to take the common view that gargoyles were powerful and annoying, but not the most intelligent species.

One of Blackwater’s soldiers handed Ari an electrified taser-spear.

“You probably want to stand over here,” Blackwater pointed out helpfully. “To ensure the proper angle to hit the heart. Assuming you’d like to kill it on the first try.”

Adam had to look at Ari then. The clenching of her jaw was grim but determined. She stood where Blackwater had directed her. Grant lay quiet, like a dumb beast in truth, watching her with his big yellow eyes.

“Put your back into it,” Blackwater added. “That blade is sharp, but it’ll be similar to harpooning a whale.”

Adam winced at the description. Ari set her feet in a wider brace and wiggled her shoulders. She was wiry, the spear taller than she was. She’d probably have trouble wielding it.

Any time now, Grant, Adam thought.

Letting out a grunt like an Olympic shot putter, Ari plunged the spear into Grant’s lion chest. Blood fountained up the shaft, the scent a combination of copper and cinnamon. The blood was as red as Adam’s would have been.

Damn it, were the only words he could think. She’d hit Grant’s heart. Blood wouldn’t pump from the wound that way otherwise. Grant’s paws twitched, and then he went stonelike. She’d killed him. Ari had actually killed the gargoyle.

Adam hoped saving him was worth it.

“Well,” Blackwater said into the stunned silence. “That was . . . to the point.”

Ari jerked out the blade and handed the gory spear back to its owner. He was more openly stupefied than Blackwater.

“Check its pulse,” the Eunuch ordered another man.

The soldier bent for a moment, gingerly touching the gargoyle’s neck. Grant didn’t spring to life and attack. The soldier straightened and shook his head. “It’s dead. No pulse. No breath.”

Blackwater turned to Francis, who looked steadier than a few hours ago but not exactly good. Considering the dangerous tasks he’d been entrusted with, Adam would have welcomed a return of the man who’d had the energy to leer at Ari. Like his boss, Francis wore a suit, though his was a gray pinstripe. He shook his head the same way the soldier had.

“There aren’t any spirit signs, just fading life essence. The girl definitely killed it. Would you . . .” He hesitated, for what reason Adam couldn’t guess. “Do you want me to harvest the valuable parts?”

Ari gasped in horror. She couldn’t have known gargoyle organs were used in rituals. Blackwater glanced at her briefly.

“Someone else can do that,” he said. “I have other duties for you right now.”

Francis gave a tight-lipped nod of acquiescence, and Adam realized he relished those other duties even less than he’d have enjoyed cutting open a still-warm animal the size of a minivan. Then the lightbulb clicked above Adam’s head. Sweat broke out underneath his arms, the scent of his alarm sharp to his own nose. Blackwater must intend to give the demon his final payment tonight. With Ari’s decision to kill Grant, he had all the pieces in place. He wasn’t waiting for the full moon.

Oh Ari, he thought. What were you thinking?

He seemed unlikely to get an answer. Beneath them, from the direction of the front of the house, came the sound of a vehicle crashing through the entrance gate. Half the soldiers ran to the wall on that side of the roof. They knelt the moment they reached it, bracing their rifles on their shoulders. He gave them credit for being disciplined. Blackwater hadn’t given them an order to shoot, and all of them refrained.

“Henry Blackwater,” roared a male voice so mellifluous despite its anger that it must have belonged to a noble fae. “Come out here and face me like a man!”

“Ah,” Blackwater said, his air of satisfaction clear. He tugged his blood-splashed linen suit straighter. “Come on, everyone. Let’s go down and welcome our final guest.”

~

Faeries weren’t strangers to hubris. Lord Grygir hadn’t come alone to Blackwater’s party, but the dozen men who’d jumped out of the troop transport with which he’d rammed the gate weren’t going to do him much good—even if they were faeries. The Eunuch’s troops simply outnumbered and out-armed them by too much.

The hubris became most obvious when Lord Grygir flung up one hand and started chanting in his kind’s high tongue.

Absolutely nothing happened. The air didn’t even ripple.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Blackwater admonished. “None of that Stop! In the Name of Love nonsense here. I’ve been preparing for your visit for quite some time.” He spread his long-fingered hands to indicate the roundabout’s shiny black pavers. “You see my lovely obsidian cobbles? They’re set into an inch-thick electrum plate. My pets have been feeding power into it for nearly a year—storing up for a rainy day, you might say. I anticipated I might need a little extra warding tonight.”

“What’s your game?” Grygir demanded, either too stupid to be afraid or too self-controlled to show it. “I know you practically choke on your envy every time we cross paths, but you could be more of a man than to attack me through my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend!” Blackwater laughed. “Is that what you call women you pine after? Trust me, your unrequited hybrid crush couldn’t matter less. I did think you’d figure out I was behind it quicker, but I only moved against Mariska so you’d come storming here.” Licking his thumb, he wiped a smear of blood off one jacket button. “Faeries can be challenging to track when they don’t want to be found.”

“You wanted me here?” Grygir said disbelievingly. “You don’t dare injure a faerie lord. You’d bring the entire weight of the fae crashing down on you.”

Blackwater’s smile gave the proud fae lord pause. “That would be suicide,” he agreed. “Fortunately, I don’t intend to harm a single hair on your head. Francis, please do the honors.”

Francis cleared his throat as Grygir gaped at him. “By the power of Earth and Air I bind you, Grygir Aloysius Burke Err-Elian di Spaña.”

Though the charged electrum plate prevented Grygir from using magic, it wasn’t designed to stop Francis. Grygir didn’t have a chance against the invocation of his true name. Adam didn’t doubt some black deeds had been required for Blackwater to obtain it. Power flashed through the air to whip around the fae lord’s torso, a long wrist-thick eel of barely visible energy. It trapped his arms against his body more strongly than any rope. Sputtering, Grygir struggled against it. As he did, his faerie bodyguard sprung belatedly into action.

Like a scythe through grass, the Eunuch’s men mowed them down.

The soldiers must have been firing electrum bullets, a general-purpose ammo that could take down most supes. Adam discovered faeries smelled like lilacs when they crossed over.

“Shut the gate,” Blackwater ordered, businesslike once more. “And hide the bodies. We don’t want the neighbors seeing them if they drive by.”

If they smelled them, they’d think the Eunuch was a really good gardener.

Another snap of Blackwater’s fingers bought Grygir a two-man carrying team. Adam was certain he and Ari could be given one as well. He was so shocked by the events of the last few minutes he was having trouble catching his breath. Training forced him to ask if he could have done something to head this off. Right that second, he couldn’t imagine what. Grygir had a hell of a lot more power than he did, and Blackwater had snapped him like a twig.

He looked at Ari, who stood a few feet away from him. Her eyes were as sad as a pieta. She hadn’t liked seeing those faerie bodyguards die either.

“So,” Blackwater said, drawing their focus back to him. “Shall we raise the curtain on the next act?”

~

As they were herded into the house, the scent of lilacs clung thickly to Ari’s nose. Those faeries had been so pretty, a sparkly bouquet of strong male beauty. She knew that shouldn’t have made her mind them dying. What mattered was that they might have left behind faerie families and faerie friends—maybe faerie children as well.

Could a person like her learn to heal the sort of injuries they’d died from?

The idea didn’t have time to flower. They stumbled at gunpoint down the basement steps, too many bodies trying to go down at once.

The men who carried Lord Grygir nearly fell when they reached the bottom, earning themselves a scathing insult from Blackwater. They looked abashed rather than irritated. Didn’t they realize they were stronger than their boss? And that they had the guns? Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe they liked being a cog in a powerful criminal machine. Maybe—just as Adam was alpha to his pack—Blackwater was a born leader. Why Ari hadn’t broken to his will was a mystery she probably wouldn’t live long enough to solve.

Francis the sorcerer followed the downward migration. He, Blackwater and four guards joined Ari, Adam and Grygir in the metallic-floored spell room. Blackwater instructed another dozen men to remain outside the door with their weapons drawn.

“You know what to shoot if it comes through that door,” he said.

Ari didn’t enjoy noticing that a couple of the soldiers looked frightened.

She wondered what was happening on the roof. Was Grant’s spirit ascending like he’d hoped, or was he simply dead? She couldn’t tell if she felt guilty about what she’d done to him. For the moment, her emotions were numb.

“Don’t let the Outsiders interfere,” Blackwater instructed, inadvertently pulling a thrill across her shoulders. Blackwater still didn’t realize Adam was a were, and that he’d been born here in Resurrection. “You don’t need to chain them unless they fight.”

As aces in the hole went, Adam’s true nature remaining hidden was a small one. All the same, Ari sensed a note of hope vibrating in him as well.

They were pushed back against the wall where Adam must have been whipped. His blood hadn’t been washed off. Two hulking spink demons, neither of whom was Darius, took charge of Adam—which might have been a compliment. A human who looked and acted like he could have been Secret Service guarded her. He’d already slapped magic-damping cuffs around her wrists, which were in front of her. Adam had a pair as well, on account of his firebug power. She could tell there weren’t any wards against using magic here. Grygir could too, because he began to whisper under his breath. His guard shoved him to his knees and gagged him with a cloth that looked like silver lame, but was probably woven and warded electrum thread. Silenced, Grygir glared at Blackwater. Blackwater was lucky the fae lord couldn’t strike him dead with his eyes.

Through it all, Francis was hastily drawing three symbol-decorated circles on the gleaming floor. The patterns meant nothing to Ari, but Grygir must have recognized their purpose. He roared at Blackwater through his gag, his words unintelligible, his sentiments obvious.

The faerie would have wriggled up, except the guard who had charge of him pushed him back to his knees. Blackwater smiled down at him pleasantly.

“Don’t worry, Grygir,” he said. “While I fully intend to fuck your ‘girlfriend’ once I’m inside your lovely body, I promise not to enjoy it.”

Knowledge lit up Ari’s mind even as Grygir went wild with rage. This was what Blackwater wanted from the demon: for him to swap their bodies. No wonder he’d stared so avariciously at the fae in Mariska’s club. The Eunuch literally wanted to be him.

Finally, Blackwater would have everything he wanted. No more barely Level Two power for him, he’d stand on the tippy top of Resurrection’s supernatural heap, a genuine lord of enchantments. Prestige would be his, plus a beauty so radiant no one could outshine it. The Eunuch would cease to exist. Lord Grygir would supplant him as the head of Blackwater’s criminal empire. Details of the transfer might need to be finessed, but Ari was certain Blackwater had planned for them.

He’d planned everything else perfectly.

Except for Adam. Except for Grant and possibly her.

God, she prayed. If I’m right about You, and if I really am this pureheart thing, please help us find a way out of this.

She didn’t know what response she expected, but Adam’s head jerked to her. The softest glimmer of green fire shone in his eyes. The emotion that rose inside her might have been love, but it certainly wasn’t soft. What it felt like was incredibly resolute. She wouldn’t just give her life for him. If she had to, she was willing to give her soul.

She kind of suspected he was thinking the same thing.

“Ready, boss,” Francis said, his expression tight and resigned.

“Strip him,” Blackwater ordered Grygir’s guard.

The barely visible magic that trussed Grygir’s arms to his sides didn’t prevent a pair of shears from cutting off his clothes. When his business shirt fell free, Ari sucked in a breath. His wings were both unexpected and a rapturous sight: filmy dragonfly sort of things that grew from his shoulder blades. They overlapped so closely to his back they hadn’t affected the drape of his shirt. Even folded up, colors sparkled and danced across their transparent iridescence, forming shifting patterns that mesmerized. Though delicate in appearance, she sensed they weren’t fragile.

For all his beauty, nothing about Grygir seemed fragile.

He’d been great looking in his clothes. With them gone, he was so gorgeous he dried her mouth. Like, Greek god gorgeous. Like, Michelangelo would have wept to sculpt his rippling muscles. His shape was perfect—broad shoulders, tight narrow hips—and his flawless skin shimmered all over.

He was also pretty darn well endowed.

Adam cleared his throat beside her.

She pulled a sorry face in response to his raised eyebrows. So sue her. She was human. If it came right down to it, she liked Adam’s rough looks better.

Out of nowhere, the thought came to her that babies with faerie wings would be seriously cute. That was weird. As a rule, Ari rarely remembered infants existed.

Her reaction to the faerie’s beauty had prevented her from noticing Blackwater undressing too. His nudity was an eye-opener, but in a different way.

The man people called the Eunuch really was. Between his legs, he was featureless. No hair, no genitalia, nothing but smooth pale skin. Ari imagined this precluded chats with underlings in front of urinals. Blackwater must have had to sit down to pee.

Had he known he’d look like this when he made his initial deal? Would it have mattered to him? More than anything, his choice made her realize how committed he was to his goals. Nothing was going to keep Blackwater from being who and what he aspired to.

Lord Grygir looked away from him. He didn’t seem disgusted, more like he just didn’t want to see. Blackwater didn’t notice his aversion. Possibly, he didn’t care.

“Open the portal,” he said to Francis.

Ari’s heart clenched tighter. Opening a portal suggested she was about to meet the demon who wanted to eat her. She remembered Adam mentioning his parents worked in Portal Management, and that they’d died in an explosion. She found herself half wishing this one would explode. At least they’d all die clean.

Francis looked like opening one wasn’t easy. His face broke into a sweat as he knelt and chanted. Ari was no expert, but she thought it was the same language Lord Grygir had used earlier. The hollows under the sorcerer’s eyes grew darker by the second, and his hands trembled where he’d rested them on his thighs. If she’d ever doubted the stupidity of learning sorcery, watching Francis struggle to get through the spell put an end to it. He couldn’t have been more than thirty. By the time he finished, he could have passed for twice that age. Finally, like a laser show at a concert, the shape of a door shot up from the two hunks of crystal he’d set in the main circle.

Blackwater now stood in the smaller circle to its left, while Lord Grygir’s guard forced him to remain on his knees in the right. As the portal appeared, the atmosphere took on the scent of a locker room . . . lots of males perspiring before a game they weren’t certain they could win. When the odor of rotten eggs joined the sweat, Ari had to fight not to gag.

The smell eased off as she noticed the next development. The rectangle inside the frame of light was changing color and moving. A tall dark figure materialized within it, seeming to stand behind slightly wavering glass—the barrier between the dimensions, she assumed. The figure was humanoid: two arms, two legs, and one extremely erect penis. Its hands and feet sported claws, and its skin was deep purple. Its very visible veins were black. As it finished becoming, its great dark eyes zeroed in on her.

Ari couldn’t stop herself from shrinking back to the wall.

“Ahh,” it said, a deep and creepily sexual groan. “You bring my tribute.”

“I do,” Blackwater said. “Precisely as we agreed.”

A dark tongue swept across the demon’s sharklike teeth. “Give it to me.”

“When you fulfill our bargain.”

“I will not be tricked,” the demon warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of trying, but if I give you your payment first, you will be . . . too distracted to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Hah,” the demon laughed. He jerked his hairless skull toward Grygir. “I expect you don’t want to miss your chance to live in that body. You’ll finally have a fuck-stick after all these years.”

Blackwater inclined his head, hiding—from the demon at least—that his lips were thinned with distaste. “Who wouldn’t be eager for that, my lord?”

The demon’s amusement faded. “You need to let me taste the sacrifice. I must know she’s a true pureheart.”

Oh boy, Ari thought, knowing her personal moment of truth was coming. Were Grant and Adam right about her? Was she good enough, and did she believe enough to fail this test the right way?

“Ari,” Adam murmured, but she couldn’t look at him.

She’d want to live too much if she did.

“Bring her closer,” Blackwater said, his voice just a little hoarse now that his dream was a hair’s breadth from fruition. “Francis, open a hole in the door.”

Ari recognized Francis’s pretty ritual knife as an athame. Under other circumstances, she’d have been proud for remembering the arcane word. Under this one, she was too busy trying to struggle neither too much nor too little as Secret Service man dragged her forward across the floor. She had to sell this, or they’d lose the element of surprise.

The portal surface made a thick ripping sound as Francis pulled his knife through it, reminding her of raw meat being sawed. It felt like raw meat when the guard shoved her cuffed hands through the opening.

She noticed he was careful to keep his own outside when he did.

The dimension her hands had been thrust into was icebox cold. Frost began forming on her fingers.

And then the demon took hold of them.

She cried out because the pain of his touch was incredible, like every bone she had was being ground into the one next to it. Even worse was the sucking sensation—and never mind the crude hungry noises the demon was making. Some fluidlike essence was being pulled from her, something important to her existence. Ari’s head spun with nausea and dizziness.

“Ari,” Adam said, his voice sharper than before. “Look at me now.”

Ari looked. Away from the demon. Away from the odd bony hands that clutched and sucked at hers. Knowing she had to, she let Adam be her fortress.

It seemed her fortress was close to turning. Framed by his thick dark lashes, his eyes beamed phosphorescent green. Fortunately, no one but she was paying him any mind. Her struggle with the demon had everyone’s attention. I love you, he mouthed to her, those three small words any woman—including her, apparently—knew how to lip read. She gave her head the tiniest shake to let him know he didn’t need to rescue her.

The demon coughed like it was politely hacking up a hairball.

Ari didn’t move her gaze from Adam, and she saw him grow more alert. He was breathing faster, crouching slightly between the spink demons who gripped him. His eyes narrowed on what was happening behind her.

The demon suddenly pushed her hands from him. Ari yanked them back to her chest, not surprised to find them coated in ice crystals. Thankfully, all her fingers were there.

“Poison!” the demon roared like thunder. “You dare to—” It broke off to retch and then recovered. “You dare to poison me!”

“I wouldn’t,” Blackwater protested.

“The pureheart is too pure,” the demon accused, then had to vomit again. Thick white light issued from its mouth.

“She can’t be,” Blackwater said. “I oversaw her sin myself.”

A number of important things seemed to happen at once. Adam let out his own roar, his shoulders straining massively as he yanked his cuffed hands apart. The charmed restraints snapped open and fell from him, a feat Ari hadn’t thought possible. Brute force and familiarity with the things from his job must have allowed them to exploit their weak spots. Hands free, he cracked his gaping demon guards’ skulls together. Their heads must have been hard, because both were knocked unconscious. At the same time, the demon squeezed his clawed purple hands into the slit in the portal and started pulling it bigger.

“Seal the hole!” Blackwater ordered Francis.

Francis barely looked capable of crawling. She saw the realization finally enter his face: that Blackwater had always intended to use him up to the last cinder, that he was going to die tonight. A second later, his horror was erased for him. The demon stretched through the widened slit, caught the sorcerer’s neck and crushed it.

He was dead before he hit the floor.

Blackwater didn’t miss a beat. “You,” he said to Secret Service guy. “Patch it.”

Evidently he was yet another Talent who’d been trained in sorcery. He must not have studied as hard as Francis. Though he immediately started chanting, and at a safer distance than his peer, the demon continued to rip the hole wider.

Meanwhile, Adam finished tearing off his clothes. He fell to his hands and knees and started growing fur. In a night of wonders, this was possibly the most amazing one.

“Shit,” breathed the guard who’d been holding Grygir in the third circle. “He’s a werewolf.”

The fae lord took advantage of the guard’s distraction to throw his weight back and knock him over. This was a good thing, because Adam was still transforming, an act that didn’t seem conducive to fighting off attacks. Ari guessed he couldn’t shift rapidly without a full moon. She winced at the way his skeleton wrenched and popped, though he made no sound but panting. She had the impression he was concentrating on changing as fast as he could. To her dismay, the spink demons whose heads he’d cracked together were recovering consciousness.

It was a partial consolation that they focused on her.

“Get the girl,” one said to the other.

Ari didn’t know why they wanted her, and she didn’t care. She didn’t kid herself that she could fight off two eight-foot tall tusked demons, but she did want their attention. With this in mind, she seized the athame from Francis’s cooling hand. Hopefully, she was holding it like she meant business. The anti-magic cuffs probably ensured that she wasn’t. The spinks were grinning as they approached.

“Stay back!” she ordered. “I’ll stick this right in your family jewels.”

“I’ll show you my family jewels,” both demons said in unnerving unison.

Ari retreated so fast she coshed the back of her head on a metal shelf loaded with specimen jars. She would have said there was nothing left to do then but pray, except one of the spink demon’s necks abruptly disappeared in a spray of blood. Adam had completed his transformation. His wolf had bitten through the demon’s throat from behind. The head dropped and bounced off the demon’s foot.

Adam’s balance was so perfect he rode the headless body to the ground, then used it as a springboard to attack the other spink. The demon was considerably bigger than the oversized timberwolf, but Adam was both ferocious and lightning quick. He darted in and out at his opponent, snapping like a crocodile and ripping big bites from him. Ari guessed spinks weren’t tasty. Adam was spitting out the bites.

In another corner of the room, Lord Grygir was rolling on the floor with his former guard. Despite being gagged and bound, he was putting up a fight by using his head and legs as weapons. Blackwater ran over to them and dragged Grygir back by his binding.

“I’ll give you the faerie!” he cried to the purple demon. “He’s got plenty of juice.”

The demon had his head and one arm squeezed out of the portal. He seemed unimpressed by this offer. “I’ll take you all,” he swore.

He wasn’t going to get the chance just them.

The second spink demon had succumbed to Adam’s vicious bite-by-bite assault, freeing Adam to make quick work of Secret Service guy. He was just a human, and Ari swore that only took two seconds. Then, with his wolfish lips curled back and his eyes afire, Adam streaked toward Blackwater. His furious snarls stood Ari’s hair on end. The Eunuch didn’t like them either. Clearly terrified, his grip on Grygir faltered. The fae lord wrenched free, and Adam’s wolf leaped straight for his target’s chest.

Kareem McKenzie couldn’t have executed a better tackle. Blackwater literally toppled into the demon’s hand. Adam twisted in mid-air, neatly squeaking out of danger. Blackwater screamed as the demon hauled him through the portal’s slit and into its own realm.

The sounds that followed were indescribably awful.

“Well,” panted a beautiful male voice. “That ought to keep the demon occupied for a few minutes. Too bad I can’t close this thing.”

Lord Grygir was on his feet but none too steady. His magical trussing still bound his arms, though he’d worked off his gag. His eyes were red-rimmed, either with sorrow or anger at the loss of his men. His former captor was lying very still—dead, she presumed—leaving her, the fae lord and Adam alone with the ripped portal.

Adam padded to her with his tongue lolling, wolf claws clicking on the electrum floor. He stationed himself between her and the faerie, as if he felt a need to guard her. The bloodied fur on his back came up as high as her waist. Ari went ahead and buried her cuffed hands in it.

“Um,” she said, feeling a little shy what with one sexy man leaning into her all furry while another stood before her naked as a jaybird. “Do you mean you’re too weak to close the portal or that you don’t know how?”

She must have insulted the faerie. He answered a tad stiffly.

“I mean it takes a specific sort of magic to close a door someone else opened, a magic I personally don’t have access to right now. Blackwater probably intended the spink twins to be backup to perform the spell.”

“They were twins?” she said, surprised she actually had the energy to be startled.

Before the fae lord could answer, Adam whined softly and nudged her thigh.

“Oh!” Ari exclaimed. “Adam knows how to close it. At least, I think he does. His parents used to work in Portal Management. Maybe you could help him change back to human form? I don’t think he can shift soon enough without the moon.”

Grygir studied her with more attention than she expected. “You and the werewolf are lovers?”

“Yes,” she said, then blushed for no good reason.

“Very well,” said the faerie. “We may have some cause for hope after all.”

~

Adam wasn’t surprised the fae lord knew enough werewolf lore to be familiar with the concept of twin flames. Twin flames weren’t as rare as—say—unicorns, and many species had similar ideas, but those who were mates in spirit as well as body were mystically special. Though werewolves weren’t known for performing magic aside from the change, twin flames working together could accomplish marvels trained sorcerers could not—shutting down portals being a notable one.

Anything to do with magic interested faeries, partly because they always wanted to command the leading edge.

Adam’s sweet and eccentric parents had been considered a successful example of a twin flame pair, going into law enforcement from their own unique angle. When he was young, they sometimes took him to empty fields, where they’d practice their special craft. One of the fae who rotated on assignment with Portal Management would call up small doors for them to close. Adam had seen his parents work the tricks of their trade many hundreds of times. He knew how to shut this portal.

The real question was, could Ari shut it with him?

He didn’t have time for doubt. The noise of the purple demon rending Blackwater into pieces wasn’t as loud as before. Likely, the demon was too angry to draw the process out. When it finished its current meal, Adam was certain it intended to cross into Resurrection for more victims.

Adam waited for Lord Grygir to pull himself together enough to cast off his magical bindings. Faeries didn’t have to worry about using up their life force the way sorcerers did. Near immortals, they had too much magic to draw on to ever run out of it. Still, they could momentarily tire themselves. By the time Grygir had freed himself and shook out his tall sparkly wings, he looked ready to collapse.

Perfectly willing to spare his pride, Adam sank to the floor at his feet, his bloodied muzzle resting on his paws. Now the fae could sit without admitting he needed to. He did so with a sigh, laying his hands very gently in Adam’s fur.

The touch of most fae was pleasurable. Grygir was a lord, and his magic was especially potent. If Adam had been pure wolf, he’d have wriggled ecstatically. Since he was a man, and not entirely comfortable with getting boners for other guys, he gritted his teeth against the truly wonderful tingles.

Luckily, Grygir was aware of the need for haste and didn’t prolong the procedure. He murmured an abbreviated spell for shapechanging, then shot one final big wave of tingles into him.

“Rise,” he said. “Walk as a man.”

Just like that, Adam was back in his own skin, the shift too speedy to have hurt. He uncurled from the floor and stood. As he’d feared, he had a hard-on stiff enough to pound nails. Ari glanced at it and fought a smile.

“Faerie dust,” he said. “It would happen to anyone.”

Ari shook her head, her blue eyes twinkling. “Who said I was complaining?”

“What do you need for your ritual?” Grygir cut in politely.

He needed two struts of metal to form an X, preferably long enough to cover the door from corner to corner. He and Grygir pried them from the room’s steel shelving, doing their best not to disturb the noisome specimens it held. That done, they brought the bars to the now unnervingly quiet portal.

Stepping into Francis’s circle caused tiny jolts of electricity to shoot up his body hair. They couldn’t see what was going on behind the barrier. The surface of the portal had reverted to muddied swirls of black and purple.

Adam turned back to Ari. “I need you,” he said.

She heard the meaning beyond the moment. Her eyes widened, but all she did was step closer and take the hand he wasn’t using to hold the metal bar. Her palms were warm and a little sweaty. Handcuffs notwithstanding, he thought he’d never felt a clasp as nice.

By changing form, he’d broken the moon bond between them. When her gaze met his, that didn’t seem to matter. In his heart, in his soul, he’d always be linked to her.

“What do you need?” she whispered.

“I’m going to say some words and cut our fingers. When I tell you, we’ll both squeeze a drop of blood onto the center of the X.”

“Better hurry,” Grygir said, from the other side of the metal structure. “It’s awfully quiet in there.”

Adam hurried so much the faerie had to correct his pronunciation a couple times. He hadn’t quite finished when the purple demon began to snarl. Knowing he must have figured out what they were doing, Grygir grabbed the athame and pricked their fingers.

“Now,” Adam said to Ari just as the demon slammed into the interdimensional barrier. The force of the impact caused the strange skin to bulge.

“No,” the demon growled in its deep-sea voice. “I paid for this portal!”

Again, it slammed the door with its massive shoulder. Adam and Grygir dug in and braced. The X trembled badly enough that their first drops of blood missed the spot. Fortunately, they hit the mark on the second try.

A blinding flash of light swallowed up the room. When it faded, not only was the portal gone, but also the X that had sealed it and all of Francis’s chalk circles.

“Wow,” Ari said, blinking rapidly at the place they’d been. “Now all we have to do is get past the dozen armed goons outside the door.”

“They’re gone,” Adam and Grygir said at the same time. Apparently, both their ears were sharp enough to have heard the soldiers leave.

Ari snickered at their unplanned chorus, a reaction that wasn’t quelled by them turning together to frown at her.

“You guys are too adorable!” she exclaimed.

Considering how she’d ogled the fae earlier, Adam’s inner wolf didn’t like her inclusiveness. It wanted to be the only male she adored.

~

Adam and the faerie dressed as quickly as they could in what were unavoidably dead men’s clothes, though Ari noticed neither of them touched Blackwater’s. They were correct about the basement outside the spell room being empty. The house above was a different story. There, a heated battle raged, marked by thumps, crashes, small arms fire, and the shouts and cries of various species. It sounded like a zoo was at war.

Halfway up the cellar steps, Adam cocked his head in a wolfish way. “My men are fighting up there. Grant must have gotten a message through.”

Grant’s name clutched at her throat. Adam turned to her.

“You stay here,” he said. “I don’t want you getting hurt in the confusion.”

“Here?” she said, not liking that idea. This cellar had been creepy before it was scattered with dead people.

Adam lifted his brows at Grygir, who was a step behind her.

“Oh no,” the fae lord said, continuing their bromance thing by immediately comprehending Adam’s silent message. “I’m not hanging back to guard her.”

“Some people would claim you owe me.”

“Not that much,” Grygir said darkly.

“Fine,” Ari surrendered, understanding he wanted retribution for his fallen men. “I get it. Guns bad. Me not have one.” She also wouldn’t have known how to shoot one if she’d been given it. There was a possibility she could stop a bullet with her telekinesis, but perhaps that theory would be bettered tested under more controlled conditions, and without her handcuffs. “I’ll wait out the fighting here. But—”

Adam had been moving upward to join the fray. “But?”

“You will come back for me, won’t you?”

And there it was: the whole stupid snarl of fear that sometimes seemed to have replaced the person she was supposed to be. Was there anyone she could truly count on to stick by and defend her?

The craziest thing was Adam’s eyes filled with tears. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “I’ll come back for you, Ari. You can . . . bet your Yankees jacket on that.”

She smiled, because he’d understood what the garment meant to her.

He and Grygir paused at the cellar door before going out. “She can bet her Yankees jacket?” she heard Grygir ask dryly. “You wolves sure are romantics.”

Ari begged to differ with his sarcasm. One wolf at least was the perfect romantic for her.

~

Ari meant to keep her word. She just couldn’t sit on her thumbs in that damned basement. It wasn’t the dead bodies that got to her. It was the noise of the fighting over her head.

Though she was no pro, she had some experience picking locks from the days when she and her friends would break into empty buildings to squat in bad weather. Trying to open her cuffs with Francis’s athame seemed worth a shot. Actually, it was better than a shot. The magic left in the blade was strong. Ari had barely stuck the tip in the key slot when the things snapped open.

She wished she’d known the knife would do that when the spinks had been closing in on her.

The regret wasn’t important now that she was free to sneak out. She told herself she’d be careful; hide behind a door or a corner and use her gift to help. The damping wards remained around the house, but she could feel they weren’t as solid as before. There were frayed places to get through them, if she kept her focus. She prayed the rune in her hair did what Grant had claimed. Good concentration was going to be vital.

Just in case it failed, she took the knife with her as well.

Creeping out onto the ground floor was more nerve wracking than she’d expected. She wasn’t prepared for the reality of groups of people trying to slaughter each other. Fortunately, there were places to hang back out of the way. The police teams were impressive, and there were more of them than only Adam’s men. They were really professional, not losing their cool like some of Blackwater’s people were now that their leader was dead. She doubted the cops knew she’d tripped their opponents or spoiled their aim. They simply took advantage of any opening. In some ways, the surreptitious fighting took her back to working for Blackwater. Secretly attacking an enemy wasn’t much harder than causing a favored horse to flag at the racetrack.

She couldn’t worry about the fairness of what she did. Blackwater’s people might or might not deserve to die, but they’d signed on to work for an awful man. Ari needed to help Adam’s side. Not doing that wouldn’t have been a choice she could live with.

~

It was no surprise to Adam that the demons fought the hardest. Most were only in Resurrection on conditional work visas, and the wheels of Justice tended to grind harder over them. Despite the desperation of their resistance, between Adam’s squad, the faerie, and the four tactical response teams Rick and Carmine had wrangled on short notice, many of Blackwater’s people were taken into custody alive. A fleet of transport wagons were even then pulling out of the gate on the way to Central Booking.

The rest of Blackwater’s men were enjoying a much quieter journey to the morgue.

They had no fatalities themselves, only injuries. In the same good news vein, Adam had hopes the demon Darius could be convinced to help dismantle what remained of the Eunuch’s drug empire. He anticipated the city’s crime stats taking a dive in the near future. Evil might not be defeated, but Good would definitely survive.

Curiously, Grant’s body hadn’t been on the roof. Adam hoped this didn’t mean he’d been taken elsewhere for harvesting, a desecration he doubted Grant’s people would appreciate. He issued an APB for any suspicious vehicles large enough to carry a gargoyle. Grant had died a hero. He deserved a burial his people would consider respectful.

He delegated Nate to notify Grant’s mother, a task the laid back cop didn’t like but was good at. Then Adam jogged back to the house to collect Ari.

He hadn’t quite reached the door when she and Tony came out of it together. Adam’s first reaction was that he didn’t like how tightly Ari was clinging to his detective’s side. His second was remembering Tony was gay. His third was gratitude that his friends would look out for her.

“Look who I found,” Tony said to him with a grin.

Adam touched the side of her face, and she unwound from Tony to embrace him. Her cheek squashed against his chest, her arms wrapping his waist with surprising strength. Blood was smeared underneath her nose, as if it had bled again. She had a look on her face he couldn’t interpret.

“It got quiet,” she said. “I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Adam pressed his lips to her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t come for you right away. There were things to wrap up out here. I knew none of the fighting had reached the cellar.”

“I understand,” she said. “You’re the boss. People expect you to oversee stuff. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

Oh, she didn’t know how sorry she made him feel, much more than she could have by complaining. He kissed her temple, wanting to kick himself. He was aware she’d been let down by people she loved before.

Ari tipped her head back from him. “Tony told me Grant’s body is missing.”

“Yes,” he said, “but we’re doing what we can to find it. If someone’s trying to harvest his organs, they won’t get far.”

“Adam, before I— Before Grant told me I ought to stab him, he sent me some strange pictures. He showed his dead body glowing before it flew away. Is that how gargoyles think they go to heaven?”

He’d figured Grant had given her permission to kill him, sparing her the sin of murder. “I don’t know,” he said, returning to her question. “I suppose it’s possible. And different species . . . decompose in different ways. Gargoyles are very insular. We don’t know that much about them.”

“He was so cute,” she said, her eyes tearing up.

Adam swiped one fat drop away with his thumb. As he did, he became aware that an awful lot of heads had turned to watch them.

“Sorry,” Ari said, realizing it as well. “I’m embarrassing you in front of your coworkers.”

“Nah.” Adam hugged her a bit tighter. “They just haven’t seen me getting mushy over a girl before.”

She blushed, which he enjoyed right down to his toes.

“I love you,” he said, not giving a damn how many sharp wolf ears heard. “Rick’s going to be jealous, but you may be the best partner I ever had.”

Tony sniggered, proving at least he was listening. “You aren’t wrong about that.”

“Can we leave soon?” Ari asked hopefully.

Adam groaned at how not soon it was going to be. “I can’t, sweetheart. There’s going to be a fricking mountain of processing for this number of arrests, even with all the team pitching in. But Tony could take you to his parents’ house, so you won’t be alone.”

“Could I go to your house?” she asked.

Did she mean she’d rather be alone than with other people, or did she want to be around his things—in his territory, as it were?

“Sure,” he said, conscious he had a different attitude toward company than she did. She wasn’t used to the idea of a pack yet. “Tony and Rick’s parents can check in on you there. They won’t hover, I promise.”

Ari smiled and stretched up his chest to press her lips to his. The kiss was sweet but far too short.

“I’ll see you when I see you then,” she said.

Chapter Eleven

ADAM hadn’t lied about Rick and Tony’s parents not hovering. Neither did their sister, Maria, who Ari finally met and got to thank for the loan of her clothes. Maria’s husband had been one of cops on the tactical response teams, and Ethan had been chattering like a cricket about how brave and important his daddy was. Possibly sensing her need for quiet, Ethan’s mother and grandparents were now up on the roof helping the three-year-old fly a cat-shaped kite that meowed loudly—and unhappily—when the wind hit it right.

Ethan’s delighted laughter drifted down through Adam’s open living room windows.

Dogs would be dogs, Ari supposed.

She sat curled up in a comfortable armchair—the only kind of furniture Adam seemed to own—her face turned to the cool autumn breeze. She was tired but not ready to face sleep and dreams.

The Eunuch was dead.

Adam had said he loved her.

It was safe for her to go back to her life in the normal world.

Those three facts chased each other inside her mind. She had decisions to make and no idea how to sort them out. What did she want? What should she? Three times Adam had said he loved her. Or, actually, it was four.

Not that she was counting or anything.

She hugged her knees up against her chest, her precious Yankees jacket warming her. It had been waiting for her in Adam’s guest room. She hadn’t worn it on their quest to find Blackwater, because she hadn’t wanted anything to happen to it. She fingered its attached coins and ticket stubs, mementos from her favorite outings with Sarah and Maxwell. How could she trust Adam, whom she’d only known for days, the same way she trusted friends she’d shared everything with for years?

Then again, he had risked his life for her.

She rubbed the arms of the chair, too restless to be still. Sarah and Max needed to know the Eunuch was dead. She had to go home for that at least. Hell, Sarah had been MIA before she left. Had Blackwater’s people hurt her when they clipped that lock of her hair? Had they harmed Max in the hospital?

If Ari returned to Manhattan, would Adam wait for her?

Stupid, she thought. He’d said he loved her four times. They’d had amazing sex. He’d wait for her.

But what then? And how did she decide what she wanted the answer to be? She was twenty-six. That ought to old enough to make grown up life choices.

She grimaced at herself, having circled back to the beginning. The sound of Adam’s doorbell saved her from going around again.

His friends wouldn’t ring, would they? Not down at the front door. Adam would be lucky if they knocked at his apartment before traipsing in. She had the feeling they all had each other’s keys.

Curious, she edged her head out the open window. Down below, on the steps of the old brownstone, a UPS man waited with a stack of cartons. He had huge feet and hulking shoulders, but he didn’t look scary—more like an overgrown farmboy. His hair was dusky gold, his skin a yummy shade of cafe au lait. From her current angle, that was all she could see. His head was bent over his delivery tablet.

Ari considered the ceiling above her. She could call the Lupones to answer the door. They were wolves and could handle trouble if this was some kind of hoax. She’d feel silly if it wasn’t, plus she wasn’t catching a danger vibe. Just because she’d had a rough couple days didn’t mean she ought to stop trusting her instincts.

Adam’s doorbell rang again.

Fine, she thought and grabbed the athame she hadn’t admitted to carrying out of the Eunuch’s house. The ceremonial dagger was probably evidence, but for now she felt better keeping it. It wasn’t like she could tell who her gift would work on here, or when she’d get into trouble for using it.

She slid it in her right rear pocket before she opened the door.

“Delivery for Adam Santini and a girl named Ari,” the UPS guy announced.

Actually, according to the logo on his brown uniform shirt, he was an RPS guy.

“I’m Ari,” she said.

“Okeydokey,” said the guy, turning to shift the packages into the vestibule. The cartons weren’t heavy and this only took a few seconds.

“Holy smokes,” Ari said when she saw the printing on their sides. Someone was sending Adam five, no, six cartons of Tiger! condoms. Adam couldn’t have ordered these himself. He’d told her a six-pack of the enchanted rubbers cost two weeks salary. Six cartons would probably wipe out his bank account.

“Who sent these?” she demanded.

The RPS guy checked his handheld computer. “It says they’re a gift from the head of the Gargoyle Council, in thanks for letting her son help vanquish their enemy.”

“It doesn’t say that!”

The RPS guy turned the screen around to show her. Okay, maybe it did. How was she to know delivery service operated differently here?

“That’s crazy,” she said, both rattled and choked up. “Her son is only dead because of us.”

“I guess they see the bigger picture,” said the delivery guy.

Ari narrowed her gaze at him. His tone was odd, and she realized he’d been keeping his head down this whole time, preventing her from getting a clear look at his face. He sounded like he was trying to disguise his voice, a baritone pretending to be a tenor, like maybe she’d recognize it otherwise. Too bad for him Ari had the perfectly normal gift of a first-rate auditory memory.

“Grant?” she said, hardly daring to believe it was him.

The RPS guy looked up and laughed. His eyes were citrine yellow with cat slits, exactly the same as Grant the gargoyle. “Mom warned me you’d see through this.”

“But how— You’re—”

“Shh,” he said, one finger to his smiling lips. “This is the gargoyles’ biggest secret. Hardly anyone knows we’re a form of were. Most gargoyles don’t change if they can help it. It’s difficult to shift back without a full moon, and they find it slightly embarrassing to be stuck in a shape so small.”

“But you were dead. Even the sorcerer thought so.”

“The magic inside me wasn’t completely damped by the wards. I couldn’t snap the cables that held me, but I could do magic on myself. I created the illusion that I was dead. Then, once everyone was gone, I changed to this shape and slipped out of their net. The shift repaired the damage to my heart—which, by the way, good aim.”

“Don’t remind me,” she said faintly. “Jesus, I thought those pictures you sent me meant you expected to go to gargoyle heaven.”

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s tricky to communicate with a nonreader.”

Ari shook her head at Grant, amazed that it was still him inside such a different body.

“Could we hug now, do you think?” he asked.

She laughed and let him pull her off her feet in a bearlike embrace. He might not have much practice, but he was a great hugger. When he held her, she felt like she had a brand new friend.

“Ah,” he said, putting her down at last. “That’s one good thing about having arms.”

Just looking at him made her grin. She did have to ask one question. “Not that I’m complaining, but why the special delivery of the very expensive condoms?”

“Er.” Grant scratched the skin of his cheek. “That first night when I was up on the roof and Adam went out to buy them? I noticed this was his brand. And, please, don’t worry about the price. Gargoyles handle most of the charmwork for Tiger! brand. We get a big discount.”

“Good to know,” she said, more amused than she thought was sensitive to admit. One stereotype people believed about gargoyles seemed to be true: They were a teensy bit snoopy.

~

Much to Adam and his team’s relief, one of the backup squads took over processing paperwork a couple hours into it.

“We’re claiming the rest of your collars for ourselves,” they teased. “So you idiots’ heads don’t swell up.”

If this meant he could go home, Adam was ready to hand them over. He wanted his own shower, his own bed, and Ari—not in that order.

Nate had suffered a dislocated shoulder during the fight. With no small disgust, he handed Rick the keys to the response van. Rick drove fine, but Nate felt a need to “help” anyway.

“You’ve got to baby her,” he was saying, his patient tone so forced it was more like the opposite. “If you punch the gas instead of push it, she’s going to stall.”

“Maybe you should sit on my lap and work the pedals yourself,” Rick snapped.

The riding benches were in place in the back. Tony and Adam smiled at each other across the bay.

“Those two,” Carmine sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes.

“I’m not the problem,” Rick objected. “He’s the one who treats this van like it’s girlfriend.”

“Guys,” Adam said. “Knock it off. The big bad is dead, we’re all alive, and our arrest record is through the roof. Try to remember life is good.”

“Yeah,” Tony seconded. “But Nate could sit on my lap if he wanted.”

“Do not go there,” Nate moaned, though he was laughing. “My acceptance of your lifestyle choice depends on you not daydreaming about me.”

The van turned before Adam expected. He twisted forward to see where they were. Rick was driving onto the giant parking lot for Pocket Foods.

“All right,” Nate said, his anger at Rick forgotten. “Time to stock up for the victory celebration. BBQ and beer.”

“I don’t know,” Adam said, remembering how shaky Ari had looked earlier. She wasn’t going to be up for a party. “Maybe we could put this off until tomorrow.”

“It’s tradition,” Rick said, a tad stubbornly. “Everyone will be expecting it. You can have sex with Ari later.”

“Dude.” Nate slapped Rick’s bicep with his uninjured hand.

Rick concentrated on parking. “Whatever. You know that’s why he doesn’t want to celebrate with us tonight.”

Nate shook his head at that. When Adam looked away from them, Carmine was watching him. The older wolf kept watching until Rick got out and slammed the door. “He’s your beta,” he said quietly. “Sometimes they get possessive.”

Adam knew this. He’d just thought Rick would be happy for him. He wasn’t simply Adam’s second in command, he was his best friend.

“I’ll send him back for a chat,” Tony volunteered, then jumped out the back doors.

Adam climbed out on legs that felt a century old. Between changing early and the fight and healing that damned whipping, he was ready to drop where he stood. Tony must have been persuasive with his brother. Rick trotted back to him with no foot dragging.

“Sorry,” he said before Adam mustered the energy to start in on him. He rubbed the back of his neck, probably trying to coax his inner hackles to stop bristling. “Ari’s a nice girl. And I’m glad you’ve found your mate. It’s just weird to see you gaga over a female. You’ve always been casual about girls before.”

“I still love you,” Adam said, too tired to make it a joke.

“Jeez.” Embarrassed, Rick mopped one hand down his face.

Adam laughed at that, but there was one more thing Rick ought to know. “She’s more than my mate. Ari helped me shut the portal.”

Rick’s eyes got big. “I assumed the faerie closed it.”

“Apparently they can’t do that unless they opened it the first place.”

“Wow. So Ari’s your twin flame. Like your parents were to each other.”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Rick tossed his keys from one hand to the other, sorting this out in his head. “Well, your folks were great together. You and Ari should be happy.”

“I hope so.”

“You will be.” He shuffled his feet sheepishly. “Look, we could postpone the party. People would understand. Sometimes you . . . gotta put your better half first.”

Adam considered, then shook his head. “Tired or not, Ari’s no weakling. Might as well throw her in the deep end now.”

Hearing himself, he wished he didn’t sound so dour.

~

Werewolf strength came in handy for carrying a vanload of food up three flights of steps. As the five of them went into his apartment, Ari was leaving the kitchen with a bottle of spring water. She looked surprised to see them but not angry. Without a second thought, Adam set down his boxes and went to her. Ari hugged him, and it was like she’d become his home; she felt that good to him. She laughed at the intensity of his squeeze, but she also buried her nose in his neck. She smelled of his shampoo, which pleased him. The faint whiff of another male pleased him less, but of course she’d been around a lot of men today.

“Wait till you taste elf ale,” Tony crowed as he passed by their embrace with his towering load. “It’s the awesomest.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Nate countered, carrying his smaller load with one arm. “Faerie stout all the way.”

“Sorry,” Adam mumbled into her hair. “This party thing is a tradition.”

“That’s okay. You had a big win. You should celebrate.”

“I was hoping for a nap.”

She tipped her head back and waggled her brows. “I bet you were, big boy.”

This was when he realized he was getting hard. He cleared his throat, knowing that sort of nap would have to wait. He’d never tell her, but she looked like hell. He wanted her to get eight solid hours of lights out. Then he’d lock her in his bedroom. A growl smoked from him at the thought. She laughed and patted his chest.

“You got a delivery. I stashed it in your bedroom closet. Don’t let your friends in there unless you want to be teased.”

He wasn’t really paying attention, more soaking her up through all his senses. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” she said, her tired blue eyes locked to his. “I used your shower. As you can see, Maria loaned me another dress. And I think it’s finally sinking in for me that the Eunuch is dead.”

He stroked her pale hair around her head. She hadn’t put the spikes back in, and it was very soft. “She loaned you a party dress. I guess Rick was right. Everyone really is expecting this.”

Ari laid her cheek above his heart. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

~

The crowd at the party wasn’t one Ari would have predicted she’d ever hang out with. Adam’s roof deck was jam-packed with cops, former cops, cop’s wives and cop’s kids—most of them relatives. Maria’s husband Johnny was playing king of the grill station, with the meat tongs as his scepter. It took some insisting, but Ari finally convinced him that when she said she wanted her ribs well done, she didn’t mean half raw.

“Adam!” he cried in the laughing shout so many of the men seemed to use. “You gotta teach your girl here some taste!”

Everyone assumed she and Adam were a couple. More unnerving, they treated her as if she were a princess. Tony switched her chair out for one he thought was nicer, Rick—who’d struck her as a bit standoffish before tonight—built her a plate heaped with cold salads, and Nate—whose right arm was now in a sling—poured her a little glass of his faerie stout so she could sample it. One boy of about fourteen asked if he could run and get her a sweater, because he knew humans weren’t as hot as werewolves. He’d blushed right after, which was cute, but the fussing still made her feel self-conscious.

Fortunately, the woman were acting normally. Ari was relieved when Maria plunked down next to her and sighed. Adam’s cousin was a pretty woman. Taller and bustier than Ari, she had long curly black hair and the same golden brown eyes as her two brothers. She was also one of the few guests Ari even sort of knew.

“Are they always like this?” she asked in an undertone.

“You mean because they’re waiting on you hand and foot? Absolutely not.” Laughing, Maria tipped up her beer for a swallow. “You’re their heroine tonight. Adam told them how brave you were.”

“He did?” she asked, a hint of dismay in it. Would they think she was more or less courageous if they knew what she’d sneaked upstairs to do? Tony had found her near the stairwell. Even he wasn’t aware how long she’d been out of the cellar.

“Girlfriend,” Maria said. “They hardly needed to be told. You faced down the Eunuch. And a frickin’ proscribed demon. I know wolves who wouldn’t have done as much. Of course, they’re also seriously impressed with Adam. Even for an alpha, he kicked butt.”

“It was pretty cool the way he broke those warded handcuffs with his brute strength.” She’d spoken without thinking. Evidently, this was a big deal. Also evidently, Adam hadn’t been tooting his own horn.

“No,” Maria said, her elf ale pausing halfway to her lips. “Alphas are extra strong, but that’s the equivalent of you lifting a pickup truck. He must have been very motivated to get you out of there.”

“We both were,” she said uncomfortably.

Maybe Maria sensed this, because she fell silent. Adam was sitting a little ways off from them, surrounded by a group of laughing, mostly male admirers. Strings of colored lights festooned the roof deck, increasing the festive air. Perhaps because Ethan’s father was occupied with the grill, Ethan had crawled into Adam’s lap. The little boy wasn’t quite asleep, but Adam was rocking him there, patting his butt in time to what sounded like Gipsy Kings music. His wrists no longer bore the firebug tattoos. His change in form had erased them, just as it had snapped their moon bond. Neither loss appeared to trouble him. Adam looked tired but happy.

This isn’t so bad, she thought. She liked seeing him happy.

Then he turned his head and caught her staring. His arms tightened subtly around his nephew, and the rocking momentarily stopped. Such yearning filled his expression that Ari lost her breath. The absence of the moon bond didn’t matter. She knew what he was thinking. It was written across his face. Even though she’d warned him taking care of herself was more than she could manage some days, he wanted to have kids with her.

When Adam said I love you, he didn’t mess around.

Her heart started knocking against her ribs. She guessed Maria heard the thumping with her wolf ears, because she looked at her.

“They’re not as hard as they look,” she said.

Ari tore her eyes from Adam. “What aren’t?”

“Kids. Well, sometimes they are, but Adam will be a great dad. Just like my Johnny. You won’t go wrong with him.”

“Maria, Adam and I aren’t—”

The men suddenly lifted their bottles for a toast. “To Grant,” someone said. “A true prince among gargoyles.”

Ari remembered they all thought Grant was dead. Guilt niggled at her, but she didn’t think she ought to enlighten them—not when they so obviously were gossips. Grant had said being weres was his people’s biggest secret. Ari wasn’t sure she even dared tell Adam.

“To Grant,” everyone chorused.

Rick rose from his seat awkwardly. “To Ari,” he said, gesturing his beer toward her. “May she come to love our pack as much as we’re certain to love her.”

Coming on top of Adam’s yearning, this was too much. Ari’s face and chest flashed hot. Maria wasn’t the only one jumping to conclusions. Adam’s pack seemed to think they were halfway down the aisle. Her mouth fished open and shut. She couldn’t deny their assumption. She’d embarrass Adam in front of his friends. Plus, she could see from his discomfort that he hadn’t expected Rick to do this.

“Okay,” he said, patting the air for quiet. “Let’s not rush Ari into anything.”

“A-ri,” someone started chanting—not a member of his pack. The wolf was immediately joined by a dozen more. “A-ri. A-ri.”

“Jesus,” Adam said. “Everyone shut up!”

Amazingly, everybody did.

“Ari wasn’t born here,” he said into the calm. “And she has the right to make her own decisions. Why don’t we let her do that?”

This was as good as declaring he wanted to marry her.

Of course, given the way her throat had clenched with emotion, if he’d asked her right that second, she’d probably have said yes.

~

The party wound down soon after that. Though everyone insisted it was getting late, Adam knew they’d felt awkward watching their host be publically rejected by his mate. He knew Ari hadn’t meant to hurt him. Nonetheless, most of his guests wouldn’t understand her hanging back.

Adam was alpha. And a catch. Why wouldn’t she want to marry him and be a part of his pack?

And have his children, he reminded himself. Mustn’t forget that detail.

He caught her sneaking worried glances at him as they cleared up the trash with Maria, Rick and Tony. Maria’s husband Johnny had carried Ethan home, slung sleeping over his shoulder like a puppy who’d played too hard. Adam’s last glimpse of his nephew had been a poignant one. As clear as the memory was, it hadn’t left him in the mood to soothe Ari’s anxiety. He wasn’t going to yell at her. She did have the right to her own choices. Just sue him if her choice tonight had left him a bit grumpy.

Finally, the Lupone siblings headed off for their own homes—Rick and Tony only having to walk downstairs. Once Adam and Ari were alone, Ari didn’t beat around the bush. “I really am sorry, Adam. Your friends’ assumptions caught me off guard.”

“I guess mine did too,” he said sourly.

Her hands twisted together in front of Maria’s pretty flowered party dress, the picture of vulnerable femininity. Adam wanted to toss his mate’s little body over his shoulder and carry her to his cave. His stupid dick began to lengthen inside his jock, totally behind that idea. He couldn’t kid himself the cause was pre-full moon horniness. Ari just being Ari did this to him.

A knock sounded on the door. Thinking Tony or Rick must have forgotten something, Adam swore and opened it.

Lord Grygir was waiting in the hall. A hot pink polo shirt with a sprite stitched on its breast in electrum thread draped his model-perfect torso. Dark gray slacks garbed his equally perfect legs. His black dress shoes shone like mirrors, as did his fingernails. He was either on his way somewhere more important, or he was attempting to appear somewhat respectful. Adam presumed his errand had to do with the dark red vacuum canister he was holding between his perfect hands.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Grygir said stiffly. “I waited until your guests were gone.”

“How did you—” Adam stopped before he asked a stupid question. A little thing like a front door lock wouldn’t keep out a faerie. The idea of Grygir standing in the street, waiting for his guests to leave, was slightly mind boggling. “Never mind. Please come in.”

“That won’t be necessary. I only came to give you this.” With a hint of belligerence, he thrust the canister at Adam. Adam took it dazedly. “I was able to recover some of my bodyguards’ remains before they dissipated. If the Talent agrees to marry you, they’ll be useful.”

Adam was completely gobsmacked. Leaving aside that these were remains, Lord Grygir had just handed him sixteen ounces of uncut faerie dust. Its street value would be next to incalculable.

“I can’t accept this,” he said firmly.

“You can,” Lord Grygir insisted, one eyebrow arching up coolly. “I owe both of you my life, and I value my life highly. Chances are you . . . also preserved the life of a friend of mine. I will email you the contact information of a trusted associate at a pharmaceutical lab. Prepared correctly, the contents of this canister will allow your non-were mate to live as long and healthily as you.”

When he put it that way . . . Adam met the proud fae lord’s eyes. To his surprise, he saw a hint of envy in them. “Thank you,” he said.

“You agree our debt is cancelled?”

“I do,” Adam said, understanding his response was contractually binding.

He expected Grygir to leave. Instead, the faerie’s face screwed up like he’d swallowed a lemon. “About my true name . . .”

Ah, Adam thought. The faerie wouldn’t like that he’d heard. “Sir,” he said, not prepared to call him milord. “You’re one of the citizens I’m sworn to protect. I’d never share knowledge that could compromise your safety.”

Grygir stared at him impassively. “Others heard my name as well.”

Was he worried about Ari? “You shouldn’t doubt Ari will honor your privacy. You saw her face down that demon. You of all people understand why it wanted her.”

“I don’t mean the pureheart.” Grygir sighed quietly, some debate decided inside his mind. “I expect it’s pointless to ask you to let me kill a few of the men you and your policemen put in jail today. Just the ones who were close enough to overhear.”

“Oh,” Adam said. He’d forgotten how ruthless faeries could be. “Yes, I’m afraid it is.”

“Then I will not attempt to bribe you.”

The faerie dust would have made an enticing payoff, if he hadn’t given it to Adam already. “I appreciate that,” Adam said with dry respect.

Satisfied—or as near to it as he was getting—Lord Grygir bowed and left.

Adam shut the door and turned to find Ari waving one hand in front of her face. The faerie had left a decidedly heady aroma behind him.

Annoyance flicked through him. Was Ari waving the smell away because she’d rather not be aroused around him?

“Whew,” she said. “Looks like everyone expects us to get hitched.”

Under the circumstances, he didn’t find her attempt at humor very humorous.

“Sorry,” she said, her lips twisting. She gestured toward the pressurized container of faerie dust. “Isn’t that stuff a dangerous street drug?”

“It depends on what it’s combined with. It had medical uses too. Look, Ari, I know we’re both tired. Maybe we could leave this aside for now. Talk about it in the morning.”

Or never, if she really was going to refuse him.

“Okay.” She hesitated. “Would you rather I stayed in the guest room?”

“No,” he said, instantly husky with emotion. “I’ll always want you with me.”

He saw from her expression that he’d pleased her. She wasn’t sure of them as a them, but he’d pleased her. He promised himself that was enough to build on.

~

Ari showered again, which was plain nervousness on her part. She’d thought maybe the faerie’s visit was what had gotten her wet and squirmy, what with his aphrodisiac scent and all. The cleansing effect of the shower dispelled that theory. Adam made her want him all by himself, no matter how tired she was.

With a sense of anticipation she couldn’t quash, she padded back to his room in her towel. Except for stashing his special delivery, she hadn’t been in his bedroom. The space was comfortable, just like the rest of his house, with an old-fashioned brass-railed bed, two battered nightstands, and a couple overstuffed armchairs. The walls were beige and the windows big. The only extravagance she could see was that the bed was king size. Adam was sitting up in it with the sheet pulled to his waist. His stomach was lean enough that the only flesh to crease was skin. He had the TV on to the news. Ari glanced at the screen, then did a double take.

“Adam, is that newscaster a talking horse?”

“Strictly speaking, she’s a talking unicorn. She’s very popular. A little liberal, but viewers consider her trustworthy.”

Ari’s wobbly knees sat her on the end of his bed. The newscaster—news equine?—did have a little spiral horn sticking out of its—her—forehead. Her blonde mane looked like it had been professionally blow dried. Adam clicked the set off with his remote, leaving her blinking.

He put his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently from behind, which did nothing to put more starch her knees. His lips whispered up her neck to her ear. “There’s plenty more marvels to see in Resurrection, you know.”

“I wouldn’t stay for that. You’re the only reason that matters.”

“Good,” he said and kissed her.

Kissing him was easy to fall into. He did it so well, and he tasted so good. When they touched each other, there was nothing to argue about, no reason for her to worry about disappointing him. Lost in the wet slow pleasure, Ari barely noticed when he tugged off her towel.

“If you’re too tired for this . . .” he kind of panted, giving her a chance to stop.

“Nuh-uh,” she said and pulled his talented mouth back to hers. She was tired, but this was way better than sleeping. Besides which, she was pretty sure he’d do most of the work. Her hands slid up his muscled back, and he moaned.

Two seconds later, her spine was flat on the mattress and all six foot two of him was over her. His hips came down to hers and pressed luxuriantly. Oh boy, she thought, because he turned out to be naked too. He gave a little grunt as he pushed again. His cock felt hot enough to brand her, its thickness slanting to the side to lie across her hipbone. He stretched his gorgeous hard body up her to dig one of his remaining Tiger! condoms from the nightstand drawer. Ari grinned at the thought of how many more awaited unsuspected in his closet.

“What?” he asked, his voice so hoarse it gave her the shivers.

“I’ll tell you later,” she promised. “But don’t put that on just yet.”

She pushed him up so that he rose to his knees and elbows. Once his weight was lifted, she wriggled under his body until his amazing cock dangled above her face. The shaft jerked harder as she approached, like a string had been attached to its shiny tip.

“Ari . . .”

“Forget it,” she said before he denied himself an indulgence one big part of him clearly craved. “This won’t tire me out. I’m still flat on my back. I’ve been dreaming of tasting you again.”

He laughed at her reasoning, then groaned as she pulled his erection down with one hand. She’d never sucked a man off in this position. The angle was a little weird but convenient, because he was doing the thrusting. He was very careful about it, and it wasn’t long before she let go of his base and relaxed. His balls were fun to explore, and the firm smooth stretch behind them. He made deep noises in his throat as she played with both. Ari was letting out nearly the same moans. She loved the feel of him on her tongue and between her cheeks—the roundness, the hardness, the buttery smoothness of his skin. She loved the way he trembled as his excitement rose, the way his big thigh muscles bunched with tension. He’d dropped his head down to watch her, and she knew that aroused him too. The flow of his pre-cum grew increasingly salty.

Ari moved the pads of her thumbs to the place where his gland would swell. She rubbed them lightly back and forth across it.

“Christ,” he breathed, pushing in almost too far that time.

She could sense him fighting conflicting urges. Keep going and enjoy this. Pull out and shove into her pussy. She let her hands roam up his thighs to the clenched muscles of his ass. Because she could, she smoothed her hands in praise over them. That longing sated, she took his hips in her firmest grip, directing his next thrust and then his next, letting him know precisely how far she was comfortable with him going.

He trembled harder, but he didn’t withdraw. “Ari,” he moaned. “I don’t think I can stand much more of this.”

He did, though, for five tremulous, gasping minutes. He was a take-charge guy, but allowing her to guide him was doing it for him. When he gave up, he wrenched out of her mouth as if he didn’t have an instant to spare, flopping away from her on his back. His hands were clenched and pressed to his forehead as his lungs labored for control. His cock bounced and throbbed above his belly like a thing possessed. “Don’t touch me right now,” he warned.

She didn’t, but she rolled onto her stomach beside him to watch him struggle not to come from nothing. She thought she’d never seen anything so hot.

“Stop grinning at me like that.”

Since his eyes were screwed shut, he was only guessing. She drew one finger around his tightly beaded up left nipple.

“Shit,” he said, his cock jerking hard again. A tiny spurt jetted from its hole.

“Want me to unwrap the condom?” she teased.

“Yes,” he snapped. “And don’t move from the position you’re in now.”

He was back to giving orders, but she had no complaints. She passed him the opened condom, which he rolled on with gritted teeth.

“Stay,” he said, pointing at her like a naughty puppy.

Resisting the urge to giggle, Ari took a grip on the brass bed’s bars and arched her bare bottom. She hadn’t forgotten doggy style was his thing.

Her blatant tease earned her a nice little curse. More than a curse, actually. As he climbed over her and kneed her legs wider, he leaned down to give her ass a nip. His fangs had descended. She felt their hard curve against her skin. All at once, a gush of cream ran from her.

“God,” Adam growled, nuzzling up to her from behind, his tongue reaching between her labia. “Please don’t be insulted, but you are the best fucking lay ever.”

She would have laughed, except he’d begun sucking and licking his way up her back. He was really tasting her—her sweat, her skin, the scent underneath her arms. He must have liked it. His dick just kept getting harder. Every time he rubbed and rolled it against her, she thought no way could it get bigger.

He kissed his greedy, groaning trail to her nape, where his lips sealed to her skin and pulled. His whole body heaved over hers, shoving her down into the bed. Man, he was into this.

Ari was too. Her spine felt like it was all tingle and no bone. Just the same, she knew she’d better call a halt to this.

“Don’t,” she said.

He groaned and sucked harder. Ari reached back to yank his hair.

“I have to go home soon,” she pleaded. “At least for a while. If you give me another of those moon-bond hickies, leaving will be too difficult.”

Adam released her and panted. “You’re right. I’m being selfish and stupid.”

Ari’s eyes burned with tears. “You aren’t either of those things. You have no idea what you . . . being so serious means to me.”

He rubbed his cheek over hers, seeming to force himself to relax. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll just do the rest.”

He kissed her temple and then her shoulder, his lips as gentle as they’d been fierce before. The rest began with him sliding his forearm beneath her pelvis, to lift her hips for entry.

“Do you want me on my knees?” she asked.

“No,” he said, his voice as rough as if he were half wolf. “I want to cover you. I want to drive you down into the bed.”

She bent one knee to scoot her leg further to the side.

“Oh yeah,” he said, his knee coaxing it even higher. His body settled on hers, hot and hard all over. His hips wriggled, and the wide round tip of him touched her folds. Ari reached back to grip the thigh that was spreading her wider. Its muscles tightened as he pushed in.

“Oh yeah,” he said even lower. His free hand slid up her arm to grip the bed rail above her fist. Right then, Ari couldn’t do anything but moan. These slow entries of his killed her. They went on forever, allowing her to savor every masculine inch of him. He pushed hard at the end of the thrust and held, his balls squashed tight against her. He stretched her so persuasively she was already coming a little.

“Adam,” she whispered.

His hips rocked forward, giving her another pleasure twinge. He dragged his face across her shoulder. “I feel you. I feel how ready you are to go.”

He undulated again, not quite sending her over. The arm he’d wedged under her hips pulled back, enabling his hand to engulf her pubis. His fingers squeezed her mound, then parted her labia. So lightly she wouldn’t have felt if she weren’t hyper-sensitized, he pushed her clitoral hood back and forth.

Ari moaned and dug her fingernails into his hairy thigh. Her neck arched back and he nuzzled it. He was breathing harder, rougher. She knew he wanted to bite her, and she almost gave permission. He grunted, his pelvis hitching deeper into her. Without warning, his middle finger dug in to rub her swollen clit with quick and intense pressure.

The tether holding back her orgasm snapped. She cried out as pleasure shook her, clutching her inner muscles around the hard length of him. She expected him to say something. He could be plenty verbal during sex, and he liked it when she was. Instead, he dragged back through her wet contractions, sucked in a giant breath, and started pistoning into her.

His speed was shocking, the force he used a risk few men could have pulled off. Each thrust’s strength was so carefully controlled that it stole her breath with excitement but didn’t hurt. Despite having just come, he drove the sharpness of her sensations right to the brink again.

“Ah,” she cried, now hanging onto his leg for dear life. “Ah, ah.”

Adam shoved her left leg as wide as her right. She was spread like a frog, barely able to move, and she’d never felt any helplessness that enjoyable. She tried to groan his name but couldn’t. Adam released the rattling head rail to shove that hand under her right breast. Spikes of pleasure shot back through her taut nipple.

Adam’s growl was indistinguishable from an actual wolf.

Too damned turned on not to, Ari came with a wail.

Adam gave her thirty seconds of crazed pumping, then yanked out and flipped her onto her back. She couldn’t have stopped him moving her if she’d tried. His strength and coordination were just too great. His speed was as well. She barely had time to miss him being inside her before he plunged in again.

She was lucky she was limber. He bent her knees to her shoulders, using the bulge of his biceps to trap them there. His eyes were glowing, his lips peeled back. She hadn’t noticed his lower set of fangs before, but she saw them now. He flinched when he saw her see them.

“I love them,” she panted. “I love . . . everything about you.”

She hadn’t known he could, but he went faster. His eyes squeezed shut, his handsome face straining as he concentrated on the sensation of pumping his cock into her. He pushed up on his hands to give his hips a freer range of motion. His penetrations lengthened, though each drive was just as swift. Ari hovered on the edge again. She couldn’t help tightening on him.

He cursed, veins bulging on his brow and neck. His cock got harder, his hips moving desperately now. He wasn’t trying to hold off; he was racing for the gold. Ari grabbed his glistening arm muscles and slung herself up him.

He gasped and a glow burst from his tightly shut eyelids. He slammed into her and went.

She went with him, his pleasure the match for her climactic gunpowder. He’d reared back from his waist for the first kick of ejaculation. As she came, he moaned and lowered again, his arms gathering her to him. He wasn’t thrusting so much then, more jamming deep inside her. His cock, by contrast, jerked like a spawning fish. The extra gland at his base pulsed wildly.

To her amazement, she actually felt the condom filling as he came. That couldn’t be right. Was it part of the Tiger! enchantment? More and more poured from him until his body simply shuddered in her embrace.

“Oh God,” he sighed, sagging down on her at last.

He continued to spasm a little.

She soothed her hands up his sweating, still writhing spine.

“Wow,” she said and kissed his shoulder.

He held the worst of his weight off her on his elbows. “Sorry. Should have warned you. The closer to the moon we get, the bigger our orgasms.”

Ari hugged his butt with her calves. “Not complaining,” she said.

He opened his eyes slowly. They looked at each other for a long, quiet time. They’d faced life and death together, but somehow that didn’t feel as important as what they were facing now. The green glow in Adam’s irises faded but never quite went out.

“I really want you to stay with me,” he said.

Ari stroked one beautiful lean cheekbone, his whisker bristles prickling under her fingertips. “I have to check on my friends. I have to tell them the Eunuch’s dead.”

“I could . . . come with you.”

For one aching second she wanted exactly that. “I have to be apart from you for a bit. We’ve known each other such a short time, and you’re asking me to make some pretty big changes in my life. I’m not sure I can live up to your expectations.”

He hadn’t officially asked her to marry him, but he didn’t contradict her words, as some men might have to spare their ego. He petted her hair back from her forehead. “I think you can live up to them. I also think—” He stopped to compose his thoughts. “You could never disappoint me so much that I wouldn’t count myself lucky to share the rest of my life with you.”

He struck her speechless. She wasn’t sure he realized she was silent because she found what he said so extraordinarily generous. He pulled gently back from her hold and out of her body, reaching down to secure the condom as he withdrew.

She watched him roll away from her to the side of the mattress, watched his long arm flex as he removed the rubber. The shifting of the muscles in his gorgeous back was a work of art she wanted to memorize. His silky tanned skin gleamed with drying sweat. The intimate tasks were those any man might perform. The fact that he did them made them miraculous to her. Wishing she knew how to put into words what he meant to her, Ari laid her hand where his waist narrowed. Adam reached back to rub it.

“Sleep,” he said. “I know you need it.”

This was advice she couldn’t resist, though part of her wanted to. Adam left the bed, and she curled up around his pillow, which smelled wonderfully of him. Her limbs grew heavier. She heard noises in the bathroom, then the kitchen. She was so tired she felt like she’d been drugged. She literally didn’t have the strength to move. Adam came back. The mattress dipped and creaked behind her. A glass of water clicked down on the nightstand in front of her. The lamp that sat on it was switched off. Adam squirmed down and spooned her, his arm a warm hard weight over her.

The sense of safety and comfort that enveloped her could have been a dream. Her second to last conscious thought was that she should never leave this man’s side. Her last was that life was rarely that simple.

Chapter Twelve

FOR the first time in his life, Adam had zero interest in going in to work. He went anyway, of course. He wasn’t irresponsible. He was just incredibly surly.

After a week of being back with no word from Ari, his commander called him into his office and told him to go on leave. “Get your head on straight,” he’d said. “You’re making your team miserable.”

Adam didn’t argue. He cleared out his locker and went home. Two days later, he found the special delivery Ari had told him about on the night of their ill-fated victory party. He didn’t wear a lot of clothes that required hanging up, and he hadn’t opened the closet until then. When he saw what the cartons held, he nearly put his fist through the wall.

Nothing could have driven her absence home harder. He’d known giving Ari time to sort out her feelings was bound to be difficult. He hadn’t known he’d miss her enough to hurt.

Every male friend he had asked him out for beers, but Adam turned them down. What if Ari came back and he wasn’t there? That she would come back he was sure. She just didn’t believe she could have a normal happy life full of friends and family, couldn’t trust that Adam’s love wouldn’t go away. That’s why she was afraid to give him her heart. Adam understood that. He wanted her to be certain. He knew she did love him.

Just in case she didn’t, he started sleeping in the guest room, where his apartment smelled most like her.

She’d been gone more than three weeks when Maria sent Ethan over to visit for the day. That went fine until the time arrived for the three-year-old to leave. Then Adam had to sit down and cry a bit.

“Unca Adam!” Ethan had wailed, pelting back to him. He’d scrambled recklessly into Adam’s lap, his little sneakers nearly emasculating him. “I’ll stay! Pwease don’t cwy anymore.”

Adam had laughed through his tears and hugged him. He thought he could live without his own kids if he had to. He wasn’t sure he could live without Ari.

The story of his little meltdown must have traveled through the wolf grapevine. Two nights later, Rick, Tony and Nate barged into his kitchen with a supply of alcohol.

“You’re being pathetic,” Nate said, twisting open a bottle of faerie stout and sticking it in his hand. “She’s your damned twin flame. You have to go after her.”

“Seriously,” Rick said. “These guys do not like having me in charge.”

“You’re not so bad,” Tony said, probably throwing his big brother into shock. “But Nate is right.” He turned the chair next to Adam’s backwards, sitting on it with his arms and chin draped over the top rung. “There’s a time to be understanding, and there’s a time to go after what you want.”

Adam took a long swallow of cold dark beer. “She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“Make her ready,” Tony said. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you need to butch up, cuz.”

Adam looked from one of his packmembers to the other. All of them were nodding.

“You can’t teach her to trust you when she’s there and you’re here,” Rick pointed out. “All you’re doing is letting her run around the hamster worry-wheel in her head.”

This struck Adam as surprisingly insightful. Sometimes he forgot his second had more than one side to him.

“Okay,” he said, his stomach clenching with nervousness. “I guess I’m butching up.”

Chapter Thirteen

THE full moon floated above the glittering towers of Manhattan like the starless sky was a sea. A month had passed since Adam had walked Ari to the suburban train’s Resurrection stop to say goodbye to her. During that time, Ari had sprung Maxwell from the hospital, got back her hostess job at Mikos, and helped Max track Sarah to her parents’ house on Long Island. Sarah had run to them when Blackwater’s goons threatened her.

Because Ari and Max had been under the impression that Sarah’s parents were dead, this was not the first place they’d looked.

As it turned out, Sarah’s family had big bucks. Although their free-spirited daughter clearly confounded them, they weren’t the monsters Max’s abusive folks had been, nor had they kicked her to the curb like Ari’s. Whey they’d initially met as street kids, Sarah had been too embarrassed to admit she’d run away simply because they’d been stifling her. By the time Maxwell and Ari found her, Sarah was ready to leave . . . but on better terms. Her parents might be the same as before, but she’d grown up in how she coped with them.

Growing up hadn’t stopped her from bursting into tears of shame the moment she laid eyes on Max. She thought she shouldn’t have let the Eunuch’s enforcers scare her out of the city when he’d been in trouble. Ari shared her opinion a tiny bit, though—to be fair—Sarah might have gotten herself killed if she’d tried to stick by him. It also occurred to her that Sarah could have run home at any time. Instead, she’d shared Ari and Maxwell’s deprivations, working just as hard as them to make sure they all got through them.

Everyone had their own way of being brave, she guessed.

As near as they could figure, the locks of hair Blackwater used to frighten Ari had been culled from brushes left behind in their old apartment, which his sorcerers could have tidied up magically. Neither Maxwell nor Sarah saw his men again after Ari left New York. Possibly, they’d all gone to Resurrection with him. With luck, the RPD had tossed them in jail by now.

Aside from sparing her friends some TMI regarding Adam, Ari told them all about her experiences in Faerie. Maxwell seemed to believe her. Sarah pretended to, but Ari had a feeling her friend was humoring her. Ari could live with that. Though Sarah was accustomed to Ari’s gift, gargoyles and werewolves and faeries were a big package to swallow.

What she found more difficult to adjust to was the change in Sarah and Max’s relationship. A week after they’d rented a new apartment together across the bridge in Brooklyn, Maxwell had moved into the big bedroom with Sarah and handed his off to her. Ari knew he was over-the-moon happy. For years he’d been in love with Sarah, and finally she loved him the same way. They disappeared for long walks nearly every evening and came back starry eyed.

Ari would have envied them if she hadn’t known everything they enjoyed was hers for the asking. All she had to do was trust herself to face the things that scared her. Considering she’d gone toe-to-toe with an energy-sucking demon, it should have been easy.

Tonight, Maxwell had his art stuff set up on the table in their combined living room-kitchen. He’d had a burst of creativity once Ari finished healing the broken bones in his arms and hands. The process had taken almost as long as finding Sarah, but Ari was proud to say she hadn’t overloaded a single time. Max was good as new—better than, he said. He was working on his own graphic novel, which he hoped to someday make a living at, rather than the more prosaic wall painting that paid the bills.

He was calling his story Evelyn’s Adventures in Elfland, his heroine being a six-foot tall Amazonian elf-vampire beauty who shot lightning bolts out of her fingers. As her day job, when she wasn’t saving the world from demons, she was a wisecracking hairdresser who was being courted by a proud faerie. Sarah insisted the superheroine ought to style people’s hair with her lightning bolts. Maxwell claimed to be thinking that over.

Ari smiled to herself from her perch in their miniscule window seat overlooking the fire escape. Sarah sat behind Maxwell now, gently rubbing his shoulders while he sketched ideas. Her presence should have been distracting, but he seemed perfectly content. They both did. All the entertainment they needed was each other.

They still love you, Ari told herself. Neither of them had left her in any doubt of that. Besides which, feeling like a third wheel wasn’t any reason to run back to a man. How did people make up their minds about being in love anyway? How did they know when they were ready?

She sighed and leaned her temple against the cool window glass. The dark sky outside was clouding over, the glowing moon turning sinister. Ari truly couldn’t believe she’d been away from Adam longer than she’d been with him. He felt like the single most important person she’d ever met. Some nights she missed him so badly every bone in her body ached.

“Do you want some wine?” Sarah asked, having gotten up when Ari wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m fine,” she said vaguely.

A dog bayed in the little park at the end of their street. The sound repeated, then rose and sank in a howl. The quintessentially lonely song dragged a wash of goose bumps along her arms.

Maxwell looked up from his sketchpad. “That sounds like the same dog I heard last night.”

Ari opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“What?” Max said, catching her expression. His dark hair was tousled from Sarah running her hands through it. In the brightness of his task lamp, the sprinkling of freckles on his slanted cheekbones stood out. When Sarah looked into his eyes, she saw her beloved . . . at least she did today. Before, had she just seen eyes?

A sudden burst of raindrops spattered against the window. Ari knew they’d be cold. Early winter rains were the dreariest.

“Can I borrow your big umbrella?” she asked Maxwell.

“Sure,” he said, “but I can go to the store if you need something.”

Ari shook her head more firmly than she had to. “I’m in the mood for some air.”

“Take my raincoat,” Sarah said. “It’s the warmest one.”

Ari didn’t argue. She took the big umbrella and the good anorak. Shoving her keys in the pocket, she went down the apartment stairs at a run—or as near to as she could without tripping. When the outside door clunked shut behind her, she heard the dog howl again.

Not a dog, she thought. God, let it not be a dog.

She sprinted past the corner store with the umbrella furled, the hood of Sarah’s slicker enough to keep the worst of the rain off her. The little play park was only a block in size. Lights kept it relatively safe at night, though the swings and teeter-totters were empty at this hour. They creaked in the rising wind, sure sign the storm was rolling in for a while.

She stopped at the grassy stretch where the trees began. “Adam,” she called, not caring if she sounded stupid. “Adam, it’s me!”

A muted bark answered her. Ari’s knees gave out from her surge of adrenaline. She fell to the squelchy grass, her blood rushing in her ears. The beast trotted out of the shadows of a big bank of shrubbery. She’d only seen Adam in this form once before, but her heart leaped in recognition. He hesitated when he saw her, too big and wild-looking to mistake for anything other than a wolf—and an overlarge one at that. The rain darkened his silvery-brown coat, but his posture was alert. His tail and his ears were up. He cocked his head to the side.

“Please come to me,” she said.

He streaked to her at a gallop, judging his stop so neatly he didn’t skid. Because she was kneeling, he had no trouble licking her face.

“Jeez.” This would take some getting used to. Adam’s tail wagged madly as he kept up the face bath. Ari tried to stop him by hugging him tighter. “I’m not kissing you until you’ve got real lips.”

He barked and sat on his haunches. He looked like he was silently laughing. Ari buried her hands in his rain-dampened ruff and just stared at him. The effect was strangely the same as locking glances with him in human form. Her doubts shook inside her, cracks undermining their foundations. He was her other half. Together they added up to more. She could sense Adam behind those intelligent green wolf eyes: his joy at seeing her, his hint of shyness over whether he was welcome.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, stroking his ears back along his head. “Want to come home and meet my friends?”

He jumped to his muddy feet, then surprised her by dashing back to the bushes he’d emerged from. He returned carrying the kind of leather bag serious bowlers toted their balls in. He resisted when Ari tried to tug it out of his teeth.

“You can’t carry that,” she said. “You’re conspicuous enough already.”

He had the nerve to whine when he let it go. When she opened Maxwell’s umbrella to cover him for the short walk back, he let out a disgusted huff.

“Shut up,” she said. “You think I want my boyfriend getting cold and wet?”

He bumped her thigh with his shoulder, more than big enough to jar her.

“You’re crazy, you know. You so cannot pass for someone’s pet.”

As if to prove it, two black guys gave her wide eyes as they came out of the Korean grocery store on the corner.

“Honey,” one drawled, “you need a leash for that.”

Adam tried his best to look harmless.

~

Adam bounded up the stairwell inside her building, bumping through the swinging door to her floor and trotting straight to her apartment. Since the Brooklyn Arms had more than a hundred units, this impressed her. She wondered if he’d used his cop skills to find her or just his nose.

“Show off,” she said as he waited for her to catch up with his tongue lolling.

He drew his tongue in and gave her a doggy grin. Ari shook her head to herself as she dug out her keys. This was destined to be more interesting than the usual boyfriend-meet-friends encounter. She noticed Adam’s thick wolf coat had shed most of the rain.

“Wipe your paws, please,” she said before pushing the door open.

Maxwell and Sarah looked up from the wine and crackers they were sharing. “That didn’t take long,” Max said. “Who were you talk—”

He gasped as loudly as Sarah when Adam finished wiping his muddy paws and padded into view. “Holy crap,” her two friends breathed in unison.

Ari closed the door and locked it, which she belatedly realized might alarm them. “Adam, these are my friends Sarah and Maxell. Guys, this is my friend Adam the werewolf from Faerie.”

“Holy—” Max swallowed and shoved back his chair. Once he’d stood, he came around the table to face Adam. Ari didn’t think it was a coincidence that this put him between the wolf and Sarah. Adam remained where he was, looking like the most beautiful and intelligent canine in the world. “Should I . . . offer to shake his paw?”

Adam nudged her.

“If you give him a minute,” she said. “I think you’ll be able to shake his hand.”

He didn’t need a minute, more like forty seconds. With the full moon to lend him power, his transformation was effortless. He crouched lower on his forepaws, closed his eyes, and let a ring of sparkles roll back from his nose. The effect was like watching him unpeel, except his wolf form simply disappeared as the light progressed over it. He had a human head, then shoulders, then arms and hands. Almost before Ari could understand what she’d seen, Adam knelt on their living room floorboards, his truly fine naked butt resting on his heels. She guessed wolves were comfortable au natural. Adam’s palms rested on his thighs, perfectly relaxed, not covering his genitals the way shyer men would have. Not that he had anything to be shy about. Ari fought an urge to press her hand to her mouth. Adam might not realize it, but he had what looked like a half hard-on.

“Wow,” Maxwell said hoarsely. “I swear I believed you when you said you’d hooked up with a werewolf, but believing sure isn’t the same as seeing.”

“Wow is right,” Sarah said in a slightly different tone. Ari imagined she’d also noticed the slight boner.

Adam pushed to his feet and immediately seemed to fill the room. Max was no shrimp, but he was on the wiry side. “It’s nice to meet you both,” he said.

Ari hadn’t known how much she’d missed his deep sexy voice until she heard it again. Still not covering up, Adam reached for her hand. The feel of his fingers twining between hers was an instant panty-wetter. Adam’s quick inhalation as he scented her reaction was followed by a definite jerk of motion between his legs. Ari suspected his half hard-on had just gone whole.

“Would you excuse us?” Adam asked politely. “Ari and I have catching up to do.”

“Sure,” Sarah said dazedly.

“No problem, man,” Max agreed.

Ari was pretty sure Adam’s nose allowed him to tug her straight to her bedroom. She ignored the omigods breaking out in the living room.

Ari’s room—formerly Max’s—was the size of a walk-in closet. A narrow window with a view of a brick wall saved it from being one. Ari had a single bed, a small bureau, and an orange crate for a nightstand. She dropped Adam’s bowling bag behind the door, enjoying her rather stupendous rear view of him. He was taking in his surroundings with interest. When he noticed the little painting that hung above her headboard, he froze.

“That’s Maria’s,” he said, amazed.

“Sorry. I know I took it without asking.”

“You took the painting she did of me as my wolf.”

“I guess you don’t all look alike furry.”

He turned back to her, his eyes bright with emotion. “Ari,” he said as if she’d given him a gift instead of stealing from his home.

Ari smiled at him. He looked down and shook his head, which made her drop her gaze as well. One hot shiver chased another along her spine. Boy, he was hard. His cock stretched straight up to his navel, so thick she wasn’t sure her fingers would meet around the shaft. As she watched, a bead of pre-cum squeezed from the slit. When his eyes rose to hers again, his expression was unexpectedly tentative.

“Could we have sex?” he asked. “Maybe before we talk? If the answer is yes, I’d really like you to take off your clothes.”

Ari started wrenching free of the anorak.

He was on her before the first sleeve was off, kissing her, squeezing her—as if he had twenty hands instead of two. Ari wrestled with him for the right to shed her garments even as she locked her mouth to his. His tongue felt so good, his lengthened teeth so sexy. She kissed him like a madwoman, thrilling to the hungry sounds he made in response.

“I missed you,” he said, freeing her mouth so they could drag her shirt together over her head. “I like your hair that way.”

It was black now, except for Max’s red design. She’d dyed it back to her real color. Freed of her shirt, she was down to transparent pink panties and a bra—nicer underwear than Adam had seen her in before. He expressed how much he admired it by groaning.

“I missed you too,” she panted.

He laid his hands overtop the stretchy sheer bra cups. Ari jerked when she caught a clear look at his fingers.

“You have claws,” she said in surprise. They were dark and hard and curved like his teeth. Ari’s nipples tightened painfully under their light clasp, her body releasing another surge of arousal. Adam smiled . . . well, wolfishly would be the best way to describe it.

“I’m really glad you don’t mind them. Sometimes, when I’m overexcited, they come out unintentionally.”

“Are you overexcited now?”

“Like you fucking wouldn’t believe.”

Ari trembled, which he seemed to enjoy. “Maybe I should undo my bra hooks myself.”

“Maybe I should use my claws to rip your underwear off you.”

“Yes, please,” Ari said with a grin.

He snarled as he indulged her fantasy. His eyes were glowing, his breathing harsh and uneven. Once her breasts were bare, he covered each in turn with his hard sucking mouth. The pull of his tongue and lips on her excited nipples caused her to writhe in his arms. He lifted her, saving himself from bending, then slammed her into the wall.

“I’m grabbing something from my bag,” he rasped.

He didn’t release her to open it, just dipped down at the knees. He returned with a single wrapped condom. He handed it to her.

“You found your special shipment,” she said breathlessly.

“I did. And I have a few guesses about who the delivery boy might have been. His scent was all over it.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I wanted you to know, but I didn’t want to betray a confidence.”

Adam rested his brow on hers. “You,” he said, “are my favorite person in the whole world.”

She didn’t know why this made the last of her doubt crumble. Maybe because he could have been mad at her for not telling. Maybe because it suggested his brain was involved in loving her.

“I love you too,” she burst out. “I missed you so much I was sick with it.”

He growled and hugged her and kissed her so deeply he gave her chills. He tore loose reluctantly.

“Put that thing on me now,” he said.

She was lucky the rubber was extra large, because the fit was tight to roll down. Ari smoothed it over his shuddering cock with loving attention, inspiring him to curse at her thoroughness. She had a feeling what came next wouldn’t be leisurely. Fortunately, she was far too wet to worry.

“Ready?” he asked, his glans nudging anxiously at her entrance.

“Like you fucking wouldn’t believe,” she said, quoting him.

His eyes flared hot as he breached the outer ring of muscle. He probably wouldn’t want to be told, but he purred like a cat for the whole twenty seconds it took to push fully into her.

“Mm,” she said, purring a bit herself. “You’ve no idea how much I missed that.”

But maybe he did. He gripped her bottom tight with his clawed fingers, drew one of his bracing breaths, and fucked her against the wall like jackhammer. They came within seconds of each other, in under five minutes. He pulled out long enough to switch condoms, then body-slammed her onto her narrow bed.

“Okay?” he asked.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him. “Do it fast again,” she urged.

This was no hardship, apparently. It wasn’t until the fourth time that either of them was in the mood to slow down. Adam was in the mood for something else as well.

He pulled her to the edge of the mattress, kneeling on the floor with her thighs clamped around his ears as he went down on her. His tongue did things ordinary human tongues couldn’t. His was harder and quicker and just plain hungrier than any man’s she’d met. He used that advantage to flick and penetrate her by turns. When he simultaneously sucked her clitoris and rubbed it with his tongue, Ari couldn’t hold back her yelps of pleasure, or keep her nails from pricking his broad shoulders. He certainly didn’t mind her reaction. As he worked to control the violent thrashing of her hips, his claws had yet to retract.

She guessed he was still overexcited.

“Ari,” he rumbled, shifting his upper body over hers. Her bed was low and his knees remained on the floor. Ari caressed his butt with the soles of her feet as he rolled a fresh rubber on.

“You can do that with your claws,” she exclaimed.

Adam flashed a grin at her. “I can do lots of things with my claws. I just like when you handle me.”

Understanding that very well, she smoothed her hands down his chest to his sweating belly, relishing the way his diaphragm went in and out with his hard breathing. That breathing got choppier as her thumb worked the looser latex gently across his tip. “Do you mind wearing these?”

He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I want kids, and I want them with you. I also want you to marry me and be my mate forever.”

Ari’s heart gave a happy excited flutter, one she hadn’t quite expected. She’d known he wanted this, but the words were still precious. She made herself ask the question she had to. “What if I don’t ever feel ready? About the kid part, I mean.”

His eyes were the softest she’d ever seen, and the most compassionate. “I hope that doesn’t happen, but if it does, I’ll still be happy you’re my wife. You’re more than my mate. When people’s spirits are the other half of each other, werewolves call them twin flames. You’re that to me, Ari. No other woman could complete me the way you do.”

This was so hokey she should have teased him. Instead, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “I feel the same way,” she confessed. “And also that . . . that I didn’t just helplessly fall in love. My brain picked you right along with my body and my heart. You are the warmest, most trustworthy, funnest guy to have sex with in the world. If I am your other half, I’m very proud that’s true.”

“Those are good words,” he said solemnly. “Thank you for saying them.”

His eyes were shining as he kissed the track the tear had left on her cheek.

“I’m making love to you now,” he said.

She didn’t need to be coaxed. He scooted them all the way up onto the bed, holding her gaze and stroking back her hair as he pushed in and out so luxuriously she couldn’t help but arch with pleasure. Now and then his eyes closed with bliss, but mostly he looked at her.

“I love you,” she said.

His next thrust drove in noticeably harder.

“Hah!” she laughed. “You like I love you as much as dirty talk.”

His chuckle was sex bottled in a sound. He ducked his head to her earlobe. “I know what you like too,” he warned.

She liked him—everything he did and everything he was. Their pace picked up as they both grew more impatient. Adam shifted angles and strafed something really good.

“Oh God,” Ari gasped.

Adam hit the spot again. The sensation was like a mini-punch of orgasm. “Squeeze your hand between us,” he panted. “I want you to rub my gland.”

After four orgasms, the thing was swollen up like a hot walnut. Maybe the moon being full made it more active. His interest certainly hadn’t flagged since they’d started.

“Yes,” he said as she rubbed it, doing her best not to interfere with his thrusts. His head flung back with enjoyment. “Mm. You could do that harder.”

When she did, his claws jerked longer against her bottom. Fortunately, they were hard but not sharp.

“Yes,” he said, flexing them like he enjoyed the sensation as much as she did. “Yes, oh God—”

He yanked one hand from her bottom and wedged his thumb claw over her clit. She had to bite his shoulder or she’d have screamed with pleasure. Sensing this perhaps, Adam grunted and latched onto her neck. His tongue worked her skin, his suction intense. His pre-climactic thrusts were so forceful she had to fling her second hand up to the headboard.

He wrenched his mouth free before he gave in to his instincts and bit her. “Unh,” he said, really close now, driving into her with big slamming motions. “Unh.”

His bulbus gland went hot and vibrated. Ari had never seen anyone come like Adam did then. His eyes rolled back and his muscles tightened until they were more steel than flesh. His bared teeth were completely beastly, his veins ropy everywhere. Best of all, his claw clamped on her very favorite spot on her clit.

Despite Adam’s orgasmic state, Ari didn’t think this was an accident. He’d been tongueing that very spot not too long ago. Waves of ecstasy jolted from the point of pressure, and from his cock, and her nipples, and pretty much every place his body was jammed to hers.

She might have forgotten to muffle her scream that time.

“Shh,” he murmured when the incredible assault on her nerves finally spiraled down. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s all right.”

Luckily, she was only whimpering by then. “Don’t pull out yet,” she pleaded.

He was heavy enough, and she was out of breath enough, that he had to hold himself off her. When even his strong arms began to tremble, she knew she had to surrender.

“All right,” she said. “You can roll off me now and rest.”

He couldn’t roll very far on her narrow bed. To her delight, he laid his cheek sweetly on her breast. His hand covered her belly possessively, his claws slowly retracting. He didn’t fall asleep like a lot of men would have. Maybe he didn’t want this to be over. “I think your friend Maxwell might have some mojo,” he said.

“Really?” Ari squirmed a bit more toward him. She remembered what Grant had said about the concentration rune Max had designed for her hair. Though Max claimed he just made it up, maybe he was a bit psychic.

“I’m not an expert, but he might be a Level Three. His energy is very . . . buzzy.”

“Do you think he’d see the real Resurrection? Could he cross the border?”

“I think he might have enough juice to bring Sarah with him, if they wanted to visit you.”

“That would be so awesome!” she exclaimed. “Oh my God, I’d take them straight to Evie’s. Do you think they’ll let us in? You did set the stage on fire.”

Adam smiled at her. “I expect Lord Grygir has explained about that by now. I did think, however, that attending our wedding might make a nice first trip for your friends.”

“Shit,” Ari said, embarrassed she hadn’t thought of that. “Sometimes I am so bad at being a girl.”

“You make up for it,” Adam teased. “Here and there.”

She scooted one of her legs between his long hard ones. “I’ll wear a dress,” she offered. “In fact, I’ll ask Maria to help me pick it out.”

“That might be a good decision. I’m not sure what my relatives would think about you wearing your Yankees jacket down the aisle.”

Ari shoved the spot on Adam’s chest where his heart felt like it had swelled to ten times its normal size. This wasn’t how he’d pictured her accepting his proposal, but he enjoyed it all the same.

“I would not wear my Yankees jacket. I wouldn’t even wear sneakers.”

“Not even sneakers!”

Smiling, Ari wriggled closer and closed her eyes. Her apartment bedroom was ridiculously small, but right then—to him—it was heaven.

“Adam?” she said in a sleepy, surprisingly girlish voice.

“Mm,” he responded, running one hand down her warm silky back.

“Why didn’t you bite me tonight? I could tell you wanted to.”

He hadn’t bitten her because he wanted her to make up her mind about them with her wits perfectly intact. “Oh,” he said. “I thought we’d save that as a treat for our honeymoon.”

She snorted, evidently finding that amusing. She was quiet for so long he thought she’d fallen asleep. He stroked her newly dark hair, feeling utterly peaceful and unwilling to give up that pleasure for a little thing like rest.

He had no fears left. Not that she loved him. Not that she’d have any trouble accepting the differences in their natures. Whatever bumps they encountered in the future, he felt confident they’d get over them. He could trust her, he realized, not only in matters of life and death but in the simpler day to day issues. He wouldn’t have his parents’ marriage, but what he’d have would be wonderful.

To his surprise, considering how long she’d been still, Ari squirmed against him. “Adam?” she asked. “I don’t know if this is the right time to bring it up, but before I have a kid, I’d like to adopt a kitten. You know, to see how responsible I can be.”

“A kitten.”

Her answer was suspiciously innocent. “I’ve always wanted one. My life never seemed stable enough before.”

He glanced to where she’d tucked her head toward his chest. It was hard to tell from his angle, but he thought her lips were pressed together against a laugh. Ari was yanking his canine chain. She didn’t know werewolves and cats got on fine—though cats were sometimes annoyingly good at ignoring silent commands. They pretended they couldn’t understand even when they did.

A way to tease her popped into his mind, one so mischievous he couldn’t resist it.

“All right,” Adam said agreeably. “Would you prefer to adopt an ordinary kitten or a were?”

The way her mouth fell open would entertain him for quite some time.

Six Months Later

TO Ari’s delight, Maxwell and Sarah enjoyed their trip to Resurrection for her wedding so much they decided to move down the street from her and Adam—into a unit in Nate’s building. Happily, the couple could afford the nice condo. Maxwell’s comic series, Evelyn’s Adventures in Elfland, proved a hit with local teenagers. They loved its mix of inside and Outside jokes. Ari had heard the original Evie—on whom Evelyn was loosely based—had been miffed at first but got over it. Sarah had a job as well. She was working as a preschool teacher to the neighborhood wolf children.

When she’d heard, Ari had feared the werekids would eat her sweet friend for breakfast—God willing not literally. That had turned out not be the case. Sarah’s delicacy brought out even little wolves’ protective streaks. The wereboys were forever trying to walk her home, and the girls considered it a fight-worthy honor to fetch her sweaters if she got cold. Sarah confessed she’d never expected to be coddled by four- and five-year-olds. Werekids who’d once been problems now behaved like relative angels. Since Sarah was the first fully human teacher the school had hired, the Board was now wondering if they should recruit more.

Sarah and Max were talking about getting married in the autumn.

Ari wasn’t snoozing her days away either. She’d gotten a part-time waitressing position at an Italian restaurant close enough to her and Adam’s place that she could walk to it. Adam remained perplexed as to why she liked restaurant work, but Ari was never bored. How could she be when anyone or anything might sit down at her table? No one ever gave her any trouble. All the locals knew she was married to an alpha.

Adam liked the fact that she’d taken and passed her magical certification, reducing the chance that she’d be thrown in the pokey for violating local ordinance. Now that she had her license, twice a week, when she was off shift, she was tutored in medical manipulation by a curmudgeonly elf-practitioner. Ari didn’t know that she aspired to go into this as a profession, but she figured honing her gift this way would be useful.

Werewolf kids banged themselves up a lot. They were too rambunctious and too fearless not to. Smiling, Ari rested both her hands on her baby bump.

Warmth and contentment welled up in her. How right being pregnant felt was her biggest surprise of all. She might never make a model parent, but she couldn’t doubt she’d be a loving one. She adored their child already.

“Is it kicking?” Sarah asked, scooting around to face her on the park bench.

They were sharing a bag lunch at what they both considered the hilariously named Harry Potter Park, which was next to Sarah’s school. Many Resurrection natives were convinced the Boy Who Lived was real.

“Just flutters,” Ari answered, pressing Sarah’s palm over the place. “You should have seen Adam’s face the first time he felt the baby move. He lit up like Christmas, then immediately volunteered to run out for pickles and bacon.”

“Pickles and bacon?” Sarah’s nose wrinkled.

“I guess that’s what werewolf mothers crave. I told him I’d let him know if that started to appeal to me.”

“No biting!” Sarah turned to call to a pair of her students. Her class was enjoying the bright spring day by rampaging, more or less peacefully, around the monkey bars and sandpit. No biting was, not surprisingly, Sarah’s most frequent scold.

“Sorry, Miss Thompson!” piped two little girl voices. “We’ll try to remember.”

Sarah covered her giggle behind her palm. “It’s like magic,” she whispered. “Every night I pray my superpower won’t go away. Oh, I forgot to tell you. Speaking of superpowers, Ethan changed the first time this morning.”

“He’s only four,” Ari gasped. “I thought werekids didn’t shift until they were five. And yesterday was the full moon.”

She knew this because Adam had gone for a run with his friends, then came home to make love to her really well. Being a dad-to-be seemed to make him even more creative in bed.

“I’m told that’s the way it happens sometimes,” Sarah said. “Plus Ethan is precocious. You wouldn’t believe how cute he was. He tore through his little outfit like a miniature Hulk, and then I had this out-of-control wolf puppy scampering between the desks. The other kids went nuts chasing him around. I had to call his mother to take him home. It made me wish I could have a werepup myself.”

Ari elbowed her. “You can babysit mine.”

“You won’t have to beg me.” Sarah smiled at Ari, so happy she was glowing. “I wonder if they’ll throw a party for Ethan. Oh God, I wonder if they’ll expect us to bring a dish.”

“Err,” Ari agreed, attuned to Sarah’s dread. Then, “Take-out,” they both chimed in unison. They kept laughing until they sighed pleasurably.

“This is good,” Sarah said. “This is better than I ever dared dreamed my life would be.”

Ari’s eyes filled with shared tears of happiness, made even sweeter by the crazy hormones zooming inside her. Who’d have thought she’d enjoy getting weepy?

“I know,” she said before she got too choked up. “And you and Max being here is totally the cherry on the sundae.”

Sarah laughed and wiped Ari’s tears away with her thumbs. “Don’t let my kids see you crying. All the girls will run over here with Kleenex.”

A familiar scent had Ari’s hormones zinging in a new direction. She jumped up from the park bench and spun around before she could stop herself. Her very own alpha hero was striding toward her across the grass, grinning a mile wide, still excited to see her after half a year of marriage.

“There’s my girl,” Adam said, pulling her off her feet in a gentle hug.

Ari buried her nose in her favorite spot on his neck.

“Love you,” he whispered before he set her down.

“Love you back,” she said. He didn’t get tired of hearing that. His eyes glowed a little brighter than the sunlight could account for. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

Adam bent to give their baby bump its kiss. “You and I have been designated to host Ethan’s first shift party, because our roof deck is the biggest. And before you ask: no, you don’t have to cook.”

“I can help shop,” she said. “I’m not too bad at that.”

Adam took her face between his big warm hands.

“You’re perfect,” he said huskily.

It wasn’t true, but Ari thought she’d go on letting him believe it.

# # #

Hidden Depths . . .

JAMES and Olivia Forster have been happily married for many years. Their grown-up daughter is thriving, as is their successful family-owned business. A harmless kink here or there spices up their love life, but they can’t imagine the kinks they’ll encounter while sneaking off to their beach house for a long hot weekend. Certainly, they don’t expect their understanding of the world they live in to be turned upside down.

Anso Vitul has ruled the wereseals for one short month. He hardly needs his authority questioned because he’s going crazy from mating heat, a condition made more tormenting by having been forbidden to have sex with a female. Anso’s best friend and male lover Ty volunteers to help him find the human mate his genes are seeking. To Ty’s amazement, Anso’s quest leads him claim not one partner but a pair. Ty would object, except he too finds the Forsters hopelessly attractive.

“The most captivating and titillating story I have read in some time . . . Flaming hot . . . even under water”—Tara’s Blog
available in ebook and print

Chapter One

AN isolated beach on a clear spring day was a wonderful place to think. As Olivia Forster lazed on a towel in her red bikini, the thought she worked on was this: She and her husband James were different from their married friends.

Olivia couldn’t say why exactly. They all had similar high-powered jobs and comfortable houses on Long Island. They’d all been married around two decades and were within a stone’s throw of forty from either side. In Olivia’s opinion, all of them were attractive, though some of the women obsessed about their weight. They weren’t necessarily intellectuals, but neither were they idiots. Their marriages had reached the vintage where they knew relationships needed work. More importantly, none were so lazy or uncaring that they wouldn’t put in that work. All of them had at least one child who’d reached adulthood more or less in one piece.

Despite these similarities, Olivia had observed that although she and James were happy, their friends were—to greater or lesser degrees—habitually dissatisfied with their lives.

Her inner perplexity must have showed in her expression. James, her darling husband of mumble-mumble years, rolled toward her on their shared beach towel. He was tall and dark and just as handsome to her as he’d been when he was twenty. Every day, they worked together at the multimedia firm they’d founded twelve years ago, which could have been awful but turned out to be the best job either of them ever had. Olivia still loved seeing James in his suit and tie, though—as head of accounting—she rarely wore anything fancier to work than a blouse and jeans. He teased her about that, but never angrily. He seemed to like that she couldn’t be swayed from her favorite things.

Since he was one of those favorite things, she supposed that made sense.

“Hey,” he said now, tapping her furrowed brow. Hardly minding the interruption, she turned her head toward him. As she did, he gave her the killer grin that had seduced her the day they met. It was boyish and crinkly and genuinely affectionate. Every time she saw it, her heart warmed impossibly.

She was so lucky he’d fallen in love with her.

“I know we’re playing hooky,” he said, “but now you’re playing hooky from me.”

She wriggled around until she lay on her side as well. Her wavy red locks fell forward, reminding her she could use a trim. Despite their unkempt state, she didn’t sweep them back. Like a background that was meant to lull them into intimacy, the Atlantic waves broke foamingly on the shore. Olivia felt as if she were dreaming when she spoke.

“I was wondering why I look at you and feel happy, when Sherri looks at Mark and sees everything she wishes he’d fix about himself.”

“That’s easy. Clearly, I’m perfect.”

“You are not,” she said, shoving his admirably buff chest. “No more than I am.”

“You’re perfect to me.”

“What about my shyness? Or the way I need to organize everything?”

James shrugged one muscular shoulder. “Neither of those things are worth getting upset about.”

“Why aren’t they, though? Why does Dan go ballistic when Kim buys a pair of shoes he thinks she’ll never wear, and you and I let stuff like that roll off us?”

James’s dark brows puckered above his hazel eyes. “Are you suggesting we ought to fight about those things?”

“No. I’m just wondering why we’re different.”

“I believe I told you why we’re different the day I proposed. You and I are soulmates. We’ve been married in lots of lives before.”

Olivia rolled her eyes even though she loved hearing him say this—as she was sure he knew. James was endearingly proud of being romantic. “How do you know our friends aren’t soulmates as well? Can’t soulmates be grumpy?”

James cocked his head, his expression the one he got any time he heard an idea that started his gears turning. His willingness to entertain other people’s viewpoints was part of what made him an excellent CEO.

“I suppose they could be,” he said.

“And,” Olivia said, encouraged by his attitude, “how do you know for sure I’m everything you need in a partner?”

And then she saw it: the tiniest shadow shuttering his friendly hazel eyes. At first, she thought the emotion the shadow inspired in her was fear. Her chest did go tight, and adrenaline certainly surged into her veins. When she looked inside herself, however, fear wasn’t what she found. James loved her. That she knew as surely as the earth going round the sun. Strange as it sounded, she thought her reaction to the idea that James had a secret might be excitement.

Intrigued, she sat up and looked down at him, her hand pressed to the place where her heart pounded in her chest. They both liked to swim every morning before they drove to work, and she was nearly as fit as him. Her red bikini wasn’t something she was embarrassed to be seen in. On the other hand, the way her nipples beaded painfully tight beneath it made her a tad self-conscious. Luckily, James was peering into her eyes right then.

But maybe it wasn’t nice to call that lucky when his expression was so concerned.

“There is something,” she breathed, giving voice to her suspicions. “Something you want that I’m not giving you.”

“Liv,” he cautioned.

“Is it the games?” she asked, her pulse drumming harder. “Do you wish we played them more often?”

He blushed, something he almost never did. His coloring was naturally dark, and usually it hid embarrassment. She glanced at his Speedo, which he carried off a good deal better than most men half his age—and never mind that his choice of swimwear sometimes gave their twenty-something daughter conniptions. If Violet had been around, instead of minding the store at Forster Media, he’d have had to cover himself. His cock was swelling inside the stretchy fabric, the swiftness of its rise and his not insignificant size creating an effect that was thoroughly X-rated.

Apparently, he couldn’t make it go down by reciting baseball scores. As soon as he saw her notice, his hard-on jerked bigger.

Olivia bit her lip and laughed. “You know I like our games, right? I have made that clear to you?”

“I never want to pressure you.”

She cupped his erection gently, hoping the touch was reassuring as well as pleasurable. The latter certainly seemed to be true. His entire bulging package jumped in her hold, his heat and hardness causing her to liquefy.

Violet wouldn’t have wanted to know about that either.

“You never pressure me,” she said. “Some of my favorite memories of us in bed are watching you go wild from me taking charge. What turns you on turns me on. It’s as simple as that.”

To her amazement, tears glazed her husband’s eyes. “I feel the same,” he said huskily.

“Oh sweetheart!” she cried, because he was almost too emotional to get the declaration out.

In that moment, she couldn’t think she was wrong to take such joy in pleasing him. She wasn’t a fifties throwback, as Sherri sometimes accused. James deserved every bit of adoration she gave him.

She swung one leg over his thighs even as he sat up to meet her. He took her face between his strong olive hands. Everything fell away but him, her universe filled with his tenderness. “I love you, Liv. Even more than you understand. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He kissed her before she could swear that would never happen. He might like being dominated, but the way he kissed was all man. Twenty years hadn’t dulled the magic of his lips pressing hers open, of his tongue sliding sleek and hard against hers. He had the best lips ever, narrow but expressive, with smooth skin and firm muscles. Employing them to good advantage, he drew a sound of longing from deep within her throat.

She pushed him back and he let her, both their breath coming quicker with anticipation as he fell back against the towel. James’s diaphragm went in and out, emphasizing the development of his upper chest. Somewhat lower, his erection prodded her bikini bottom, tempting her to roll on it. Feeling completely wicked, Olivia untied her bikini top.

“Liv,” he breathed. “Here?”

She’d always been on the slender side, her shoulders slightly broader than her boyish hips. Fortyish or not, her breasts sat prettily on her ribs. James’s eyes snagged on them, then rose admiringly to her face. Olivia admitted she liked both stares.

“Why not?” she said, flinging caution to the winds. “We’re behind a dune. And we have the beach to ourselves.”

“What if someone comes close enough to see?”

“Then we’ll run back to the cottage, and some old codger walking his dog will have a story to tell his friends.”

James laughed, his hands coming up to cup and caress her breasts. His strokes were sure, the tips of his fingers deft. In seconds, he had her nipples achy and hard. He liked seeing them that way. He wet his lips as he watched himself tug them out.

“I think you should let go of me,” she said, her voice not as steady as before. “I need to tie your wrists together.”

He inhaled sharply, his hands stilling. His whole body seemed to help him hold his breath.

“Above your head,” she said, pushing his strong arms there.

He didn’t resist as she bound them with her bikini top. He breathed more raggedly instead and got so hard he started leaking inside his Speedo. James had been her first lover, and she’d always been fascinated by his cock: the size of it and the heft, the way it responded so readily to almost anything she did. Their first game—which had happened by accident—had surprised her, because she hadn’t known he could enjoy sex more than he already did. She’d always thought one of his finest qualities was how much he loved fucking. She did too, and it was nice to be kept up with.

“Lift your hips,” she said, wanting to admire the picture he was making.

James lifted and she dragged his snug black swimsuit far enough down his ass to bare him. Digging between his thighs, she pulled his balls up so the elastic cradled them. His testicles were about half drawn up, and she knew she had time to play. Maybe he did too. He moved his hips restlessly, like he was trying to dig a deeper depression into the sand underneath the towel.

Rather than succumb to what she wanted, which was to plunge her aching pussy over that tall thick rod, Olivia stood and skimmed her swimsuit bottom down her legs.

When she stepped out of it, completely nude in the open air, James let out a groan that said better than words how sexy she was to him.

Because she thought it would flip his switches, she stepped over him like a Valkyrie, one bare foot firmly planted to either side of his hips.

“I am your queen,” she said, the words oddly natural.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“You’re here to serve me.”

“Yes.”

“Anything I ask of you, you must obey.”

His eyes dipped to the triangle of curls that declared her a true redhead. In her legs-akimbo pose, she was certain he could see her sexual moisture glistening.

“Anything,” he said hoarsely, making it a plea.

She dropped to her hands and knees so quickly he couldn’t help but gasp. She was crouched over him like a cat, unmistakably predatory. As she’d hoped, this flipped his switches too. “You won’t come until I say, no matter what I do.”

This time, her darling husband could only groan.

She kissed him too quickly and too sharply for him to kiss her back. With the in and out rhythm of the waves as accompaniment, she nipped a stinging path down his long lean body. His nipples tightened for her biting kisses, and chill bumps broke out across his skin. His strong legs kicked when her fingers stroked the ticklish spots on his abdomen, and again when she stuck her tongue into his navel. The one thing he didn’t do was laugh.

He was too involved in what she was up to for that.

She’d reached his gorgeous erection. The thing stretched thick and flushed and veiny up his belly. It and he shivered when she blew on it.

For just a second, she wondered what other men looked like when they were this aroused. The thought disturbed her, and she shook it off. She didn’t need other men when she had James.

“I think my servant needs a bit more restraint,” she said.

They’d brought a little picnic down to the beach. Nothing elaborate, just sandwiches and salad and soda pop, bought ready-made from the small local grocery store. Olivia dug into the plastic bag to retrieve a rubber band she thought was the perfect size and thickness.

“Liv,” James said when he saw it, the word wrenched from him.

Liking that, she stretched the band between her fingers. “Tell me if it hurts.”

She bound it twice around the base of his balls. Their skin got tighter and darker, partly from the way the rubber band forced it taut and partly from his excitement. She petted his fullness gently, trying to gauge if she’d gone too far. She hoped not. She really liked the way he looked trussed up and on display.

People were so wrong about women not being visual.

“Too tight?” she asked.

He shook his head jerkily.

“Will the constriction make it harder for you to come?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “It’s really turning me on.”

A shiver ran across her shoulders, his excitement heightening hers. Her pussy was squirming, like it was trying to rub itself. His eyes held hers when her gaze lifted, their goldy-green-blue darkened by the expansion of his pupils. He was no stranger, and yet she’d never seen him as pushed to the edge as this. She felt as if she were a stranger herself, as if together they’d crossed the barrier into Neverland.

Her mind flashed back to the odd second when she’d wondered what other men’s cocks looked like. Outside of magazines and X-rated movies, she’d never encountered one close up.

Momentarily nervous about what her eyes might reveal, she shifted her attention to James’s erection. Surely there couldn’t be a better visual than this. His hole was leaking more than before, the clear fluid trickling down the swollen crest onto his hard belly.

“I want to lick your cock,” she announced.

“My queen should do as she wishes,” was his breathless response.

Slick wet heat ran out from her sex. She wanted James to see it, wanted him to know what this game of theirs did to her. She turned her body to face his feet.

“I want you to pleasure me while I lick you.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “That’s what I’d like too.”

His bound hands settled on her butt, urging her down to him. Once she’d lowered, he shifted them between her legs, his corded forearms pushing her thighs wider. When his mouth settled over the spot he wanted, his thumbs reached back to work her clitoral hood up and down. Since his mouth was also working her, this meant his thumbs were pushing under his lower lip.

Olivia temporarily forgot what she’d meant to do to him.

Oh he was good at giving head, strong and quick and very sure of himself. She groaned at how close to coming one hard suck pulled her.

“Don’t,” she said, fingernails digging into his muscled thighs. “Don’t make me climax so soon.”

He backed off, and she could think again—enough to take in the view anyway. His cock and balls stared her in the face, a feast of the first order. Olivia was no porn star. She couldn’t deep-throat a man James’s size. She couldn’t moan cinematically or even toss her hair around like one. She’d have felt too silly. Her main advantages were willingness, curiosity, and knowledge of her partner’s sweet spots. And love. That was probably an advantage when it came to driving a man crazy.

Olivia crooked her little finger under the cinch of the rubber band, then let it go with a snap.

“Christ,” James cursed, his body jerking as his mouth fell from her pussy.

Olivia didn’t ask permission. She snapped the band again, drawing a wild cry from him. Then, before the sting on those sensitive nerves could fade from his consciousness, she took the swollen head of him in her mouth. She pressed the soft warm flat of her tongue against it, made sure her teeth were covered, and sucked him once as hard as she could.

He nearly came. The taste of pre-cum flooded her mouth as his body writhed under her. She slapped her arms on his thighs, bearing down with her weight and not coincidentally increasing his sense of being restrained.

Then she sucked him again.

His cry was garbled, pain and ecstasy and shock all rolled into one. She gentled her suckling, but that wouldn’t matter now. She’d already pushed him to the edge, nor would he have forgotten that she’d ordered him not to come.

“Oh God,” he gasped, twisting both to and from her suckling mouth.

“Stop,” she ordered. Instantly, he froze, giving her a heady sense of power. As she paused to decide on her next order, James sucked in a great gulp of air, no doubt hoping to recover his control. “No more thrashing, servant. I want my hands free to work on you.”

“Yes, my queen,” he said in a thready voice. His body tensed but didn’t thrash as she moved her hands to his twitching balls.

She didn’t hurt him again. James responded well to variety and surprise. She cupped and compressed his scrotum, then ran three fingers firmly over the smoothness of his perineum. He had nerves here that liked massaging. Sure enough, his back arched off the towel, and he groaned more luxuriously. When she sucked the upper half of his cock back into her mouth, he returned his lips and tongue to her. His bound hands rested compliantly on his belly, fisting and then relaxing as she did things to him that felt good. She wasn’t sure he knew she could see. His reactions made a handy sexual litmus test.

She used this to lull his worries that he’d disobey her by climaxing. Letting him relax, she nuzzled his balls, then licked his penis repeatedly. Down and down she swiped her tongue on his underside, over and over like a metronome. Using her saliva to make him glisten, she painted the stretch between the sweet spot under his rim to the cinch of the rubber band. This would feel good, but it wouldn’t push him over. The muscles in his thighs stopped bunching.

“Liv,” he sighed, the sound pure sensual indulgence.

Deciding it was time for a change of pace, she licked four fingers and pushed them behind his balls, back onto his perineum, where the structure of his cock rooted. His bound hands didn’t fist up again until she teased her rubbing around the pucker of his anus.

He tried to cover the reaction, or possibly deflect her from noticing by stabbing his tongue into her pussy. Olivia was far too accustomed to focusing on him to fall for the ploy. Anal play was a game they hadn’t tried, but she’d seen signs before that he was interested. Perhaps he’d feared she’d find it distasteful, and hadn’t dared bring it up. Whatever his reasons, Olivia decided she’d stop waiting to be asked.

She pushed one wet finger into him to its first knuckle. He jerked and gasped, but in a way that made her think he welcomed the intrusion. Made bolder by this reaction, Olivia pushed the finger to its second knuckle and rotated. James choked out a sound, but she couldn’t doubt he liked what he was feeling. His cock swelled and his hips lurched up, shoving him farther into her mouth. A single pull of her cheeks had more of an effect than she anticipated. Suddenly he was thrusting with more purpose, his promise not to come forgotten.

More than willing to let him enjoy himself, Olivia wrapped one hand around his throbbing base to prevent him from gagging her. Going on the theory that two fingers were better than one, she drove a second into him. His anal muscles were more relaxed than they’d been initially. Far from resisting, his passage seemed to suck her probing in eagerly.

“No,” he gasped, but Olivia didn’t listen.

He felt smooth in there and warm. She scooted forward for a better angle, pulling her pussy out of reach of his mouth. Way too excited to mind, she started fucking her fingers in and out of him.

She didn’t even know how she knew to do it; maybe these things were instinctive. She felt weirdly sure of herself. This was the speed that felt good. This was the pressure that got to him.

“Fuck,” he swore, thrusting faster in and out of her mouth. The hard, slightly awkward rocking of his pelvis intensified the working of her fingers. Somehow knowing he would like it, she scissored her fingers wider and twisted them in half circle.

Despite the grip she had on his base, he shoved the head of his cock nearly to her throat.

“Damn it,” he said at the small uncomfortable sound she made.

She didn’t mean for him to stop. She’d have recovered in a few seconds. She didn’t get a chance to convey that to him. He wrenched out of her without warning.

Cloth snapped—her bikini top, she thought—because suddenly he’d twisted their bodies around in two directions and he was looming on top her. Before she could figure out how he’d done it, her wrists were trapped by his hands beside her head. His eyes burned furiously down at her, the blue-green drowning out the gold with anger. Angry or not, he was so excited his cock was dripping pre-cum on her belly. He seemed ready to do anything to her, as long as it involved getting off.

Olivia abruptly understood why being dominated was arousing.

“I’m sorry,” she panted, her pulse pattering in her throat. “I thought you were enjoying that.”

He growled in answer, his teeth grinding. “God, Olivia. I can’t hide anything from you.”

Apparently, he could, or she wouldn’t have been confused. “Do I need to apologize?” she asked unsurely.

With another animal rumble, he crushed his mouth over hers.

She didn’t think he’d ever kissed her like this. He was assertive, yes, but this kiss was meant to overwhelm. Before she had a chance to adjust, to let him know she accepted it, his knees butted hers open. His hips came down in the space he’d made, his body as hot as a barbecue.

His grip tightened painfully on her wrists as he probed between her labia with his cock. He must not have wanted to release her hands. After a push or two he found her entrance, grunted into her mouth, then slung inside in one hard thrust. She was so wet, so hungry that all she felt at his roughness was relief.

He gasped her name, tearing free of her mouth.

That was all the pause she got before he started fucking her like a maniac. A second later, she was meeting him with abandon, her hips bucking up at his. They went at each other so hard it felt like they were fighting.

“Yes,” she groaned, hitching up her knees and spreading her thighs wider. He shifted both her wrists into one big hand, then shoved the other under her bottom, controlling her thrusts to move her in better synch with him. She quivered so close to coming she knew she didn’t have much time to do what she still wanted.

“Let go of my right hand,” she said, trying to tug it free.

He shook his head and pumped into her harder.

“Yes,” she insisted. “I’m your queen, and I’ll do to you what I please.”

“Liv,” he said miserably.

She didn’t care. She knew he wanted this. The next time she tugged, her hand flew free of his. She spit on two fingers, then decided three would be better. His breath grew choppy as he watched her.

He closed his eyes and shuddered when she pushed all three into him.

He loved it. That was clear from the way his spine arched and his expression grew dreamy. The fact that he’d wanted to hide how much he craved this sweetened her victory. She began to move her fingers inside of him.

The look on his face grew truly beatific.

“I’m fucking you,” she whispered, some demon genius taking control of her vocal chords. “I’m fucking you like a man.”

“Oh God!” he cried.

Suddenly, he was fucking her twice as hard, really slamming into her, as wild and desperate as if the only way to save both their souls was by coming in the next ten seconds. Maybe the rubber band did make it more difficult to ejaculate. He seemed like he was reaching for it hard and couldn’t quite get there. The twisting of his facial muscles pushed more of her buttons than needed it. She started to go, and finally he did as well. She moved her fingers faster and was rewarded by a ragged shout of pleasure.

The shout was only the beginning. His ejaculation gushed heat inside her as he strained to hold as deep as he could. She felt herself clamp around him, and that made them both come harder. The orgasm felt like pleasure was stabbing through her womb—no subtlety to it, just a hard-core explosion of sexual nerves.

Olivia made a sound like she was sobbing. Maybe she was. Even though he’d come, James had started thrusting again, taking advantage before his cock softened. Helpless to stop her sex from reacting, she went over a second time.

Half a dozen jabs more, and it was all over.

“Jesus,” she gasped as he sagged down on her. She felt like a hurricane had blown through her, one that swept everything before it with a storm surge of ecstasy. When she tugged her fingers from James’s body, her hand and arm were shaking. He shivered, and she wasn’t certain it was with pleasure. “God, James. Did I hurt you?”

He moaned, his sweaty face turning back and forth across the crook of her neck. “You—” He stopped for air. “You did that perfectly.”

How did he know? Had he been finger fucked before? She’d been singularly inexperienced when they met in college, but she’d heard young men sometimes experimented, just like young women did. Maybe he hadn’t been fucked by fingers. Maybe he was comparing what she’d done to something else entirely.

She pressed her lips to his temple, unable—or, she guessed, unwilling—to ask him to clarify. Did she want to hear his answer?

He lifted his head and smiled softly down at her. For a second, she drank him in. He was never so beautiful as when he’d just climaxed. His eyes were brighter, his sensitive mouth relaxed. His thick dark lashes blinked lazily.

“Olivia,” he said as if she’d done something to amuse him.

“What?” she asked him defensively.

“You’re organizing your thoughts again. Trying to force everything, immediately, to make a sense you’re comfortable with.”

“It’s what I do.”

He kissed her lips so gently her mouth might have been the holy grail. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. Just let it be until tomorrow.”

She searched his sleepy eyes. He seemed a little rueful, but not afraid. Whatever he was going to tell her, it wasn’t too terrible. The tension that had taken hold of her ribcage eased.

“All right,” she surrendered. “Go ahead and enjoy your post-coital nap.”

As he laid his cheek against her breast in his favorite spot, she felt him grinning.

Chapter Two

One month earlier

HIS Majesty, Lobodon Vitul was dying.

The ruler of the wereseals lay in his sumptuous chamber in his enchanted palace beneath the sea. Heavy embroidered curtains—some blue, some green with eel-like silver patterns—were drawn across porthole windows that overlooked the innermost courtyard. A single candle burned within a pierced metal lantern, the star-shaped holder dangling from the painted ceiling many meters above his bed.

They had electricity in Oceana, powered quite reliably by the ceaseless currents around them. The golden flame was simply the only illumination the king’s failing eyes could bear.

“Not . . . long now,” he said with a rasping laugh to his son.

Anso, the crown prince, sat on a cushioned stool beside him and took his hand. The king’s carved cedar bed—which normally was set in the floor—had been propped on stands to spare the ancient court physician from having to stoop to treat him. Ironically, the dying king was decades younger than the old doctor, far younger than the age their race should have anticipated living to. His disease was one that ran in families, noble lines in particular. Lobodon knew exactly what to expect from it. Because he did, and because he’d never liked being lied to, Anso didn’t contradict his words.

“Glad,” his father said, confusing him. “About marrying your mother. In spite of . . . how it ended for her. At least I . . . brought new blood into the line for you.”

Anso’s throat choked tight. His mother had killed herself on his fifteenth birthday, within an hour of his naming ceremony as official heir to the throne. He wasn’t sure why she’d waited that long. For as long as he could remember, she’d been desperately unhappy.

“She tried,” his father said, his cold hand giving Anso’s a feeble squeeze. “She loved us as well as she could. She just missed her home Outside too much.”

By Outside, he meant outside the borders of the Pocket, the fae-created cross-dimensional territory that was not quite mundane nor purely magical. The Pocket began at a modestly sized city called Resurrection on the eastern seaboard of North America. Once past land, it dove through a corridor under the ocean floor, then rose and spread out again to host the cities of the Atlantic League—the foremost of which was their own.

Anso had traveled to Resurrection and also to Manhattan, New York. Both metropolises were too dry for his taste, though people claimed the weather was better in summer. He’d been an adult when he took the journey and not a child. Nonetheless, he remembered feeling more hurt than he’d been prepared for. Oceana was more beautiful in every way than either landlubbing city. Moreover, Oceana had given his mother him.

Evidently, neither of those things had been enough to inspire Denise Vitul to go on living.

As there was little point in bringing any of this up, Anso pressed his forehead to his father’s shoulder, hiding the tears Lobodon probably knew were there anyway. “I always knew you loved me, Dad.”

His father let out a sigh. Anso sensed him gathering his reserves and sat up to face whatever he wished to say. Recognizing this, his father gave him the slanting half-smile Anso had seen so many times in his own mirror. “I’m proud of you, son. You’re going to make a fine ruler. I know you’ll do what you must for your people.”

“Father—”

“You will.” He nodded in emphasis and warning, then settled deeper into the bolster and closed his eyes. “Probably don’t even need me to tell you to. It’s . . . the blessing and . . . curse of the Vitul line . . . that our instincts are strong. Like salmon.” He laughed again breathlessly. “You’ll be . . . driven to it soon enough.”

As he spoke, his respiration had grown labored, seams of pain deepening in his face. Anso laid his hand on his father’s heart, willing his own warmth to him. “I’ll call Pinni. He’ll give you something to help you rest.”

“Call . . . the Magus too. Like to . . . make my peace.”

All shapechangers were magical beings, though few had the ability to perform spells. The wereseals were fortunate their coalition of city nations had been adopted by a faction of the fae, who transported the cities whole from their shared native land. Back in Faerie, the cities of the seals had been in danger of falling into magical anarchy, a condition that had spelled the end to other civilizations there. Here in the Pocket, the energy that powered all magic was both less potent and more stable. The rules by which it functioned one day were almost certain to apply the next.

Without the fae, life on the seafloor could not have been sustained at this level of sophistication, the drawback being that wereseals were now dependent on a race who did what they did for their own reasons. That knowledge might not be comfortable, but it couldn’t be changed.

Anso bent to kiss his Father’s brow. “I’ll get them both,” he said.

Naturally, the physician and the spiritual leader were waiting in the antechamber. All Lobodon’s advisers and relatives had gathered for his death vigil. The pair Lobodon requested were his closest friends, their loyalty proven many times during his reign. Anso was glad for that. He knew his father didn’t want his son at his side right now. He was in too much pain for his pride to welcome that.

“He’s asking for the pair of you,” Anso said.

They went in without questions, their expressions calm, their gazes meeting his with quiet understanding. As a pureblood faerie, the Magus’s age was difficult to pin down. Pinni, the old physician, was an elf and consequently lower on the magical prestige scale. His kind often chose medicine or technology as careers, not being as standoffish as pure fae. Pinni gave Anso’s shoulder a gentle rub as he passed. The gesture was enough to fill Anso’s eyes with tears.

To his dismay, his cousin Ellice ran forward at this sign of his emotions. She was a pretty woman—tall and strong, with the dark gold hair and deep blue eyes the Vitul family was famed for. She and Anso had grown up together, had shared their first shifts into seal form. Anso couldn’t count how many times they’d played naked in the surf off some pristine beach. In all that time, Ellice hadn’t done him a single cruelty. Never laughed when he was embarrassed. Never failed to sympathize when he was sad. She’d lost her mother too, when she was only ten. Nonetheless, since they’d reached adulthood, Anso found he couldn’t be comfortable with her.

His unease stemmed from more than spending time close to a female. The prince was used to handling that. All noblemen learned to. Male wereseals had strong sexual drives. Females did too, of course, but it was the males’ responsibility to ensure they didn’t father pups indiscriminately. Among a closed society like theirs, the perils of inbreeding couldn’t have been realer. The means to prevent pregnancy existed, but given the potency of wereseal semen, it couldn’t be counted on. While a commoner might be allowed to slip up, noble males refrained from sex with women until marriage. Even then, they only married those whose blood the mages tested first for weakness.

The temptation this resulted in could be overwhelming. They were men. They had urges. To be forbidden to satisfy them only increased their power—a fact Ellice wasn’t as sensitive to as she should have been. Anso’s lack of romantic feelings for her hardly mattered to his desires. She was fruit of the secret tree. She had breasts. And a pussy. And a bottom so much lusher than a man’s. She shouldn’t have made a habit of touching him.

“Anso!” she cried now, catching his face between graceful hands. “Dear, dear cousin. How sorry I am for you!”

He took her wrists to pull her touch away, which somehow resulted in her tangling their fingers together. “I’m fine, Ellice. We knew this was coming.”

“Of course we did, but still . . .” She leaned closer, speaking so only he could hear. “If there’s anything I can do to make you feel better. Anything. I know how close you and your father were.”

Are, he thought. How close we are.

“Anso,” interrupted a welcome voice. Anso’s best friend Tykon Otari had just stuck his head around the antechamber’s dark paneled door. He grimaced as the room’s inhabitants turned to look. “Sorry to interrupt. Need to steal the prince away for a few.”

“Ty,” Ellice said in the gently scolding tone she used a lot on his friend. More than once she’d warned Anso against spending so much time with an Otari. As noble families went, they weren’t the most prestigious. “Anso needs to be with his family now.”

Ty shrugged at her, his face impassive. “Guard business. I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

Anso disentangled himself from Ellice as carefully as he could. “It’s all right. I could do with a distraction.”

He moved away before Ellice could pet his sleeve. She said something behind him, but he was too focused on his relief at getting out of there.

“Thank you,” he said the moment the door was shut behind them.

Ty chuckled under his breath. “Thought I might have picked up a silent distress call.”

He might not have been joking. Tykon did sometimes intuit what he was thinking. Anso’s best friend was very intelligent, a trait Ellice didn’t value as highly as Anso did. It was true Ty wasn’t as kind as Ellice. He had a temper and spoke thoughtlessly now and then. He’d slept with a lot of men besides Anso, but the prince had long since gotten over being hurt by that. Males their age had sex together out of necessity. They weren’t meant to form heart attachments. Ty was a good friend—not perfect but as dear to him as a brother.

Anso felt more at ease walking down the hall in his company than he’d have felt if he were alone. They followed the march of electrum-rimmed porthole windows that provided ever changing underwater views into the courtyard. Like the city around it, the royal palace was octagonal. As rulers, the Vituls commanded its central ring. Beyond that ring, each noble family had a wedge-shaped portion where members lived. They had their own coral gardens, their own decorative fisheries, but the courtyard Anso’s father nurtured was best of all.

The sound of bubbles rising through the sunlit waters was a balm to his wound up nerves.

“How is your father?” Ty asked as they reached the final turning to Anso’s rooms.

Anso shoved his hands into his pockets, not wanting his friend to see how they shook. “Close to the end, I think. I’m not certain he’ll last the night.”

Ty stopped and turned to him. “Do you want to go back? You know I made up that bit about needing you for guard business.”

“I know.” Anso smiled at Ty, their faces perfectly level. Ty was as muscular as Anso and just as tall. He was better looking, Anso thought, with shining sand-colored hair and thick-lashed yellow eyes. His skin, which always looked like he’d been sunning, bore a barely visible pattern of darker spots—as if his bloodline ran back to leopard seals. Like Lobodon’s illness, the coloration was a symptom of inbreeding. Fortunately, the Otaris didn’t suffer from health problems.

Ty didn’t shy from Anso’s gaze, though a pain he didn’t usually let show darkened his yellow eyes. “You’re lucky,” he whispered, “to have a father you’re going to miss.”

Ellice would have clucked her tongue and called him insensitive, but Anso understood. Ty’s father was a drunk—and a mean-natured one at that. His mother could have counterbalanced her spouse’s failings, were she not so caught up in trying—endlessly, it seemed—to establish herself as Someone Who Mattered in were society. Anso occasionally clicked past the Real Housewives of New York City on the Import Channel. From what he could tell, Sabra Otari would have fit right in.

Understanding what her shallowness did to Ty, Anso squeezed his friend’s hard bicep. “I know I’m fortunate.”

“I shouldn’t have called you away. You should go back. Spend every minute that’s left with him.”

Anso shook his head. “He’s in pain. He doesn’t want me to see it. We—” He swallowed his emotions back as they rose. “We said what we needed to.”

Ty covered the hand he’d put on his arm. The deep furrowing of his brow gave him a haunted look. “Tell me how to comfort you.”

His offer wasn’t so different from Ellice’s, but Anso’s response to it was. Heat flashed through him and his pulse quickened. His cock had only been half retracted, but it slipped from its protective sheath in a long smooth thrust, thickening fast with the blood that pumped into it. The very speed of its emergence supplied a sensual pleasure. Anso was fully erect in seconds, the throbbing head tenting his snug hide trousers.

Ty read his blush of course. “Well,” he said with a sexy chuckle. “If that’s all it takes to make you feel better . . .”

“Shut up,” Anso laughed, smacking his friend’s shoulder.

“Only if you open up,” Ty ran his tongue around his full upper lip, causing Anso to blush harder.

They were both laughing by the time they barred Anso’s door behind them.

The instant their privacy was assured, Ty kissed him, deep-tongued and hot. Men who slept together didn’t always do this, but he and Ty liked it. Their saliva contained a mild aphrodisiac that added oomph to their encounters. Happily, they liked lots of things in common. Every inch of Ty’s tall hard body pushed Anso’s back into the wood. Anso stood that for about five heartbeats, then started tearing at Ty’s clothes.

“Hurry,” Ty urged, his own hands busy on Anso’s garments. “Mo-ther, I’ve been crazed all day.”

Anso had too, embarrassing though it was to admit. Something about facing his father’s mortality made him want to hump everything in sight.

“Fuck,” he said, struggling with the laces that closed Ty’s trousers over his genital bulge. Zippers were considered lower class, and most royals eschewed them. “Why do you have to tie these so well?”

Ty closed his eyes and rolled his hips forward. “Can’t let just anyone get in there.”

Plenty of people wanted to, that was sure, though for the moment Ty was focused on him. His hands roamed Anso’s now bare chest, thumbs zeroing in to circle his tight nipples. The massage wasn’t helping Anso’s coordination. He snorted at his susceptibility, then gave up on opening his friend’s trousers. This caused Ty to lift drowsy eyelids and give him an accusing stare.

“Ty, that’s a fucking sailor’s knot you’ve got there.”

“Fine,” Ty huffed, taking over the task himself. “I’ll do mine and you do yours.”

Anso knew Ty wasn’t truly annoyed. He was grinning broadly as he backed up, retreating on the glassy basalt floor toward Anso’s bedroom. Anso’s excitement kicked higher. One of the first erotic favors they’d exchanged was masturbating in tandem.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ty sing-songed.

“Do not.”

Ty shucked his trousers and wagged his brows, maybe to mock Anso for his childish answer, or maybe because he knew damn well how delicious he looked naked. His erection was very long, very thick, and very flushed where tiny vessels fed his blood to the swaying head. He hadn’t been exaggerating about being crazed. The edges of his penile sheath were already sealed tight around his base.

Wereseal genitals retreated into their bodies when they relaxed, serving as streamlining and protection for swimming in man form. Ty was the opposite of relaxed as he stood framed by the bedroom doorway, his balls full enough to bulge in their normally tucked up sac. Anso licked his lips, helpless not to run his gaze along his friend’s body. Ty’s shoulders were broad and well developed, his long legs dropping gracefully from tight hips. The ridged muscle of his abdomen testified to hard training, and his golden skin looked every bit as smooth as it was. The faint leopard spots that marked it darkened near his groin, the pattern extending into the short sand-colored fur of his pubic triangle.

Anso’s thatch was as dark honey. He’d never forget how aroused he’d been by his first sight of their complementary coloring.

“Oh I so know what you’re thinking.” Ty’s laugh drew Anso’s gaze to his amused face. “Jacking off together that first time. Coming so fast, so hard, we practically spattered each other from head to toe.”

Anso couldn’t mind Ty’s teasing, not when Ty’s hand moved to his own erection and fisted it leisurely. The memory aroused him too.

Anso decided to play along. “What about the first time I tried going down on you? You squealed like a dolphin the moment I tightened my lips and sucked.”

“You had quite a gift for a neophyte.”

Despite the humor sparkling in his eyes, Ty’s voice had gone husky. With a wonderful sense of freedom, Anso kicked off his trousers. He always enjoyed being undressed with Ty. Anso had many duties, but with his friend he was not constrained. Two long steps put them chest to chest, gazes locked, heat pulsing one to the other in time to their heartbeats. Ty’s hand bumped Anso’s erection as he continued to jack his own. A slow stroke was all he needed to remain at the peak of hardness. Both their bodies were ready for pleasure.

“Remember the first time you fucked me?” Anso murmured, loving how Ty’s face flushed. “I thought I’d gone to heaven, you felt so brilliant inside of me.”

“I remember playing sick for days so we could skip training and do it around the clock.” Ty’s gorgeous eyes were soft. “You’ve no idea how cute you were, my sweet eighteen-year-old virgin prince, suddenly in love with taking it in the ass. Neither of us could get enough, though I recall trying manfully.”

“I thought you were being nice for fucking me that much.”

Ty chuckled, letting go of his cock to touch Anso’s cheek. “Nice had nothing to do with it. You might not have been my first lover, but you’ve always been my best.”

Anso hadn’t known that. Ty had been his first, though—bless him—he’d never mocked Anso on that account. The back of his eyes burned in reaction.

“Shh,” Ty said. “None of that tonight.”

He kissed him, wrapping him in his arms and moaning when Anso did the same. Ty’s lips were hard, his tongue pushing greedily inward. Anso relished his aggression. Lust blotted out emotion, rising in thick hot waves. As was customary, Anso’s bed was set in the floor, the comfortable mattress flush with the shining tiles. They dropped to it on their knees, still kissing, arms exploring each other like octopi.

Ty’s ass was firm and tight. Anso couldn’t resist squeezing it.

“Oh God,” Ty breathed, rubbing his cock more urgently along Anso’s. “I need this so much.”

“Me too,” Anso groaned.

They toppled onto their sides, muscled legs scissoring together to give their swollen ball sacs access to rub each other.

“Fuck,” Ty cursed, rolling Anso beneath him.

Anso recognized his tone—and the way he was suddenly grinding himself more forcefully against him, as if no matter what they did he couldn’t get close enough. They’d been together so many times each man knew the other’s preferences. Ty had one particular kink that never failed to amuse. Anso’s fellow guard was so masculine it should have been the last thing that steamed his windows.

Then again, maybe that was why Ty found the practice so alluring.

Unable to stop himself, Anso burst out laughing.

Ty pulled back from him and frowned.

“I know.” Anso’s chest shook with amusement. “You can’t control when the mood for that special little act hits you.”

“You like it too.”

“Of course I do, but you do realize it’s perverse, right? If other people knew we did this, they’d think we were as twisted as Outsiders.”

“It feels good,” Ty said, the hint of a pout pushing out the heavy shape of his lower lip. “It’s the only thing that really gets me to relax. And it heats up the gland in my anus, the one you’re always moaning for me to pump over harder.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I admitted I like it too.” Anso petted Ty’s lean tanned cheek and then across his shoulder.

“Sometimes it gets in my head. I can’t think straight until you do it to me.”

His voice sank on the last part of his confession, his brows drawn together above his nose. He looked concerned for Anso’s opinion, which wasn’t necessary at all. Touched but smart enough to hide it, Anso nipped his chin playfully. “Roll off of me, you pervert. I need to get the oil. The last thing I want is you chafing yourself to death.”

Quick as magic, his compliance turned the tide of Ty’s mood. Ty rolled off him onto his back, stretching every inch of his aroused body and letting out a sound like a purr. His arms were above his head, his toes curled like a diver about to plunge. His thick hard cock extended up his belly, his veins blue ropes, his tip beginning to leak pre-cum. The display of muscle and meat was gorgeous, something Ty absolutely knew. Anso bit his lip to prevent laughing. For all his intellectual prowess, Ty was sometimes childishly simple.

He kept the oil in a low mother-of-pearl inlaid cabinet beside his bed. When Anso removed its stopper and the spicy fragrance wafted out, Ty let out an actual whimper.

“You could try not to get so excited before I start. You know you like to last through an actual session before you come.”

Ty bit his lower lip. “Please. You can see how much I need it.”

“I don’t even know how you do it. I’d go in two seconds if I got as aroused as you.”

“You’re the one who makes me that way,” Ty said throatily.

Oh Ty knew how to get to him. Anso’s prick jerked between his legs, the ache of need tightening. Suddenly he was breathing harder, nearly panting with excitement. He poured the oil into the cup of his palm . . .

“Lick me first,” Ty whispered. “The harder it is to hold off the better I like it.”

Anso’s fingers trembled as he corked the oil again. He curled his hand around the lubricant he’d already poured, not wanting to waste it. “Two minutes.”

“Three,” Ty bargained and undulated against the bed.

Anso gave him four, deep-throating his thick erection until Ty clutched wads of bedcovers in both hands, his entire body writhing with pleasure. Anso put more pressure on his hipbones.

“Fuck,” Ty groaned, obviously struggling not to climax. “Anso, you are so fucking good at this.”

He was good, better than Ty, who’d never quite caught the knack. He swallowed one last time, his relaxed throat closing softly around Ty’s glans. Then he backed up to catch his breath.

Ty’s brick-red erection shuddered like he’d slapped it.

“Want a sampling of what’s to come?” the prince offered, because a slap wasn’t something Ty would mind.

“Better not,” his friend said breathlessly.

Anso thought it funny how Ty always ruled these bouts, despite Anso being the one who was meting out punishment.

Smiling, he rubbed his still oiled left palm against his right, then smoothed both around the base of Ty’s cock. Ty tensed, probably worried he’d go over from even this careful stimulation, but Anso knew how to skirt his limits. Gently, slowly, he coaxed his lubricated little finger down into Ty’s penile sheath, relaxing the constricted passage enough to let the tip of the digit in. His pubic fur ended at the pocket’s edge. The interior skin was baby-smooth, rarely touched as it was.

Nerves ran through it, not as many as in Ty’s cock, but they were receptive to pleasure. Ty trembled, and squirmed, and bit his lip on a tortured groan. To let Anso touch him this intimately was quite a sign of trust. Their instincts, which were part animal, resisted exposing such vulnerable spots.

“Shit,” Ty said.

Anso laid a hand on his thigh. “I can stop.”

“No. I like when you do this.” High emotion brought a glow into shapechangers’ irises. Ty’s yellow eyes burned into Anso’s, so bright they should have conveyed actual heat. He seemed to mean he liked it more than physically.

Few things could have excited Anso more than watching Ty struggle to find his inner submissive. But maybe it was time to give him more help. Submissives needed dominants, after all.

He pulled his touch away from Ty and gazed sternly down at him. “I want you to turn over now.”

Ty groaned.

“Now,” Anso insisted.

Ty rolled onto his belly, taking hold of the mattress edge with both hands.

His ass was muscular and narrow, its golden skin dappled with the faint leopard spots Anso found so enchanting. Two deep dimples framed his tailbone where it dove into his anal crease. Those smooth depressions begged for kisses, but that wasn’t on tonight’s program.

“Please,” Ty whispered, wriggling and clenching at the same time.

“Lift your ass,” Anso ordered, the assumption of command naturally deepening his voice. “You’re not to rub yourself against the mattress until I say you can.”

“I won’t,” Ty promised.

He meant the promise, but sometimes he forgot, which was why Anso had oiled him. The skin of their normally protected penises was susceptible to bruising. Before Ty could bruise his, Anso unleashed a rain of smacks on both of his butt cheeks. When he stopped half a minute later, Ty’s skin was rosy and blazing.

Ty was panting, but not as deeply as he could.

Because he was in charge, Anso bent and licked him. His skin was saltier than before.

“Don’t,” Ty pleaded. “Hit me some more.”

Anso let him feel the edge of his teeth. “You’re not my master, Ty.”

“I want you to master me.”

Did he? Sometimes Anso wondered if Ty knew his own desires. Not what they were, but why he felt them. As promiscuous as he was, he had to be searching for something he hadn’t found. Had it been in Anso’s power, he would have given whatever it was to him. Ty’s happiness mattered more to Anso than Ty might have been comfortable knowing. Now and then, Anso wasn’t comfortable with it himself. One day, he’d give his heart to a woman—or at least he’d try to. When that day came, he didn’t want his friend to be hurt.

“I brought you a present,” he said aloud.

Ty tossed a raised-brow look over his shoulder. Male lovers didn’t give gifts to each other, not romantic ones at least.

“Don’t worry,” Anso chuckled. “It isn’t a bunch of flowers.”

It was a rubber coated wooden paddle, easy to wield and more effective than Anso’s palm. Ty’s breath came faster when he saw it.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s a nice present.”

“On your back again,” Anso instructed. “Pull your knees to your shoulders. I want you to watch me smacking you.”

The position was more intimate than their usual, but Ty only hesitated for a few heartbeats.

“Wrap your arms around your thighs to hold them. I don’t want you touching yourself. Tonight, no one’s getting you off but me.”

Ty complied with this as well. Once he had, his eyes were wider, his handsome features more deeply flushed. Not only were his buttocks bared by his position, but so was his asshole. For once, he actually looked docile.

Anso wasted no time taking advantage. The paddle made a lovely resonant crack on his ass muscles. It felt good in Anso’s hand, each impact running warmly up his arm. Ty was already pink, so Anso couldn’t hit him long. He stopped when Ty let out a sound that was suspiciously close to a whimper.

Now he was panting the way Anso liked to hear. Dropping the paddle, he spread one palm over Ty’s hot ass cheeks. Ty’s eyes had been tightly closed for the paddling, but at the caress they flew open.

Their sessions, when they indulged, generally finished with Ty taking charge and fucking him mightily. Right then, he didn’t seem capable, and not because he wasn’t plenty hard. His cock was huge, its slit trickling steadily. No, Ty seemed incapable because his expression was so stunned.

“Put your feet on the bed,” Anso growled.

His voice was rough, as if he too were shaken. Ty dropped his feet, his arms releasing the hold they’d taken behind his knees. His hands fell to the sheets as if they’d lost their ability to move without orders. He didn’t budge as Anso swung over his torso, one knee to either side of him. Because Anso hadn’t let him touch his cock, his skin was oiled and ready. If Anso wished, he could take him without delay.

Ty’s eyes glittered up at Anso as he shifted over it.

In all their years together, they hadn’t fucked face to face. Other things they’d done that way, but not penetration. Anso saw Ty was aware of this.

“I won’t last,” Ty rasped. “I am so fucking ready to go.”

Anso swallowed, feeling ready to go himself. “Put your hands on my hips.”

Ty wrapped his fingers around him there, warm and sweaty and tight. Praying he’d last long enough to get Ty inside, Anso placed the head of Ty’s cock against his asshole. He was so aroused he barely had to push before it went in.

As it did, his head fell back and a groan of ecstasy tore from him. Ty felt so good gliding into him, so hot and smooth and alive. His flare pressed Anso perfectly as it squeezed past his prostate.

“Oh Lord,” Ty moaned, his grip pincering his hipbones. “Do you think it feels this good to fuck a woman?”

The question wasn’t conducive to self-control. Abruptly desperate to come himself, Anso started humping him up and down. Ty cursed and joined the motions as well as he could with his back arching off the bed. Wanting more stimulation and afraid Ty was about to shoot his load, Anso slapped a hand around his own cock.

“Unh-uh,” Ty said and slapped his hand there too.

He rubbed Anso’s prick faster than he did.

The double-speed double handjob was more than his nerves could take. Sensation crested and crashed outward. Anso cried out hoarsely, ejaculating with such volume that his seed immediately turned both their grips slippery. The rubbing felt even better then, intensifying the orgasm. Maybe Ty knew. A second later, he made a snarling noise and filled Anso’s ass with warmth. He came in successive waves, each punctuated with strangled groans.

The evidence of Ty’s pleasure sent aftershocks through Anso. Ty always came with abandon after he’d been dominated. This time, though, he outdid himself. His nails dug into Anso’s hips so forcefully they stung. Finally, he relaxed.

“God,” he sighed. “I don’t think I’ve come that hard since the first time you sucked me off.” His chest went up and down while Anso eased off him. “Considering I was eighteen and insanely horny, that says something.”

Anso couldn’t speak yet, he was panting too hard. He collapsed beside his friend and patted his chest soothingly.

“I’m okay,” Ty assured him. “My ass is a little sore from the paddling, but strictly in a good way.”

Anso rolled his eyes. “You might not be eighteen any longer, but you’re still insanely horny, from what I can tell.”

“And you’re not?”

He was where Ty was concerned. At his quiet exhalation, Ty squirmed onto his side to face him. His hand trailed down Anso’s centerline to his groin. With a gentleness he didn’t let many see, he stroked the knuckle of one bent finger along his cock. “You’re still a little hard. I would have thought that would finish you.”

The truth of his words made Anso uneasy. What they’d just done should have left him completely limp. He’d noticed nothing did lately. The forces that drove his sexuality were rattling their cage. Every day they shoved the bars a little harder, until even his sleep was broken by torrid dreams. Knowing this and facing it, however, were separate things.

“Spring’s coming,” he mumbled, eyes closing drowsily. “You know what that does to everyone’s hormones.”

Ty seemed to accept this explanation. His gentle knuckle continued to tickle him up and down, ironically increasing his sleepiness. “You’re the only one I play these games with, you know.”

“Good,” Anso slurred. “You need to be careful who you trust yourself with.”

Ty’s hand shifted to his hip. “Anso?”

“Mm?”

“Are you going to mate Ellice when your father dies?”

Anso dragged his eyelids up for that. “Lord, no. What makes you think I would?”

“She talks like you will. I mean, she doesn’t say it exactly, but other people understand what she means. The Vituls do have a tradition of marrying cousins.”

“Which is why my father is dying before his time!”

“I think people figure your mother being human brought enough new blood into your line.”

Anso stared at him. Ty was too sharp to be mistaken about prevailing opinion. Could Ellice believe they were going to marry? Surely she’d noticed him pulling back from their old closeness. Unless she explained it away as him not wanting to risk temptation. Maybe everyone, Ty included, thought that was why he treated her distantly.

He sat up to look down at his friend and lover. For once, Ty’s gaze wasn’t meeting his. Anso found he didn’t like that at all. “I’m not attracted to Ellice, or not more than any normal male could help. She’s a sweet female, but in your worst mood your company appeals to me more than hers.”

Ty plucked at the rumpled bedcovers. “She’d be a good political choice.”

He almost sounded jealous, which wasn’t possible. Ty was the bull all the wereseals wanted, male and female alike. Hell, if they’d known what he liked to do in secret, spanking probably would become the next big fad.

“I’m not marrying her,” he said, the words emphatic. “I want a queen who makes me happy.”

He’d never said that aloud before. It sounded childish. Kings didn’t marry for happiness. Ty pressed his lips together against a smile, but at least he didn’t laugh.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’d be happy if you picked a queen who liked me.”

Anso didn’t mention that his father thought he was going to spawn, which would render picking of any sort irrelevant. Preferring to put dealing with that off, he wriggled back down and nudged Ty’s shoulder. “Angling to be my third?”

Ty shook his head and smiled faintly. Wereseal kings often ruled in triads: a queen, a king, and a trusted male intimate. Anso certainly would have offered Ty the position if he weren’t so easy with his favors. Politically speaking, with so many partners, Ty’s loyalties would always appear suspect. Fair or not, appearances mattered. The kindest thing was not to ask him to change his ways. Indeed, the idea of Ty restricting himself in bed made Anso snort softly.

“I know I’m not your third,” he said, his eyes drifting shut once more. “What is my spot on your dance card? Two of twelve? Five of thirteen?”

“One of six,” Ty answered, which Anso suspected was no more than the truth. Ty drew up his knees to bump Anso’s companionably. “I’m slowing down as I get older.”

Anso laughed. “As long as I’m number one.”

“Always,” Ty swore, the ring of honesty in it.

Anso let that vow nudge him into slumber.

~

He woke to the sound of low conversation in his outer chamber. One of the voices belonged to Ty. The other was Lord Noth’s, the head of the King’s Council. Along with an elected legislative body and the king, the Council formed Oceana’s government.

Anso sat up abruptly, the blanket Ty must have covered him with dropping to his waist. It had happened then. His father was dead. From newborn pup to grayfur, Anso was responsible for Oceana now.

He scrambled out of bed and nearly fell over. Had he been screwing Ty when his father passed? Did Lord Noth guess that was why Ty was there? Ducking into the bathroom, he scrubbed a wet washcloth up and down his chest, removing the remains of his own semen. He still smelled of sex when he pulled on and tied his robe.

Well, too bad, he thought. He’d taken comfort with a friend at a trying time. Lord Noth was married, but presumably he’d done as much himself when he was younger.

Anso squared his shoulders and drew a long calming breath. If he truly needed his people to think him perfect, he was in trouble.

Despite knowing he was king now, the sight of dignified Lord Noth dropping to one knee took him aback.

“Your Majesty,” the noble said, his head bowed respectfully. “Please allow me to offer my sincere condolences on your loss.”

The words weren’t empty. Lord Noth and his father had been known to butt heads, but he’d been a staunch ally.

“Thank you,” Anso said. “I’m sure your guidance shall be as valuable to me as it was to my father.”

Even with his head inclined, Anso saw Lord Noth’s involuntary smile.

“I know,” Anso acknowledged. “I expect you and I will disagree sometimes too. Do rise. I’m not used to talking to the top of your head.”

Lord Noth rose with a shorter bow. With a start, Anso realized he was waiting for orders.

“Have the Council gather in an hour,” he said, the decision coming more easily than he expected. “My father kept me apprised, but the ministers can brief me on outstanding matters. It’s important they know I’m listening to them. We can also go over what needs to be arranged for the funeral. My father deserves full honors.”

“Very good, sire.” The Council head betrayed no sign he’d noticed Anso’s voice had gone throaty. “I’ll advise everyone to be . . . succinct.”

Because some of the ministers were long-winded, Anso appreciated that. Lord Noth left in the same unobtrusive fashion that he’d arrived.

“Well,” Ty said, sounding as dazed as Anso felt. “Long live the king.”

Anso’s eyes spilled over. When Ty’s yellow irises met his, they shone with sympathy. “Shall I bow as well, Your Majesty?”

Anso shook his head, unable to speak right then. In bed, mastering his friend was fine. In real life, he preferred them to be equals. To his relief, Ty came to him and held him. His embrace was gentle, his shoulder warm.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, giving him a slightly awkward pat. “More than fine. I have no doubt.”

Anso hugged him once, then pushed back from him.

“Thank you,” was all he managed to say.

Chapter Three

ANSO’S first month as king brought many changes into his life. Shortly following his father’s elaborate funeral at sea, he’d been moved into the royal apartments and assigned a retinue of servants. Despite being waited on hand and foot, he’d never had so little time for himself.

He’d barely had a chance to mourn.

There were meetings to attend and dinners and endless stacks of reports. Lord Noth assured him his duties would lighten as he gained experience—if only because he’d decide which tasks he truly needed to perform personally. Anso tried to take his word on this. In the last thirty days, he and Ty had been together precisely twice.

He’d had other offers—more than he knew how to handle. He simply couldn’t trust the males’ motives for wanting to sleep with him.

Bedding Anso Vitul had become a political act.

Alone for the moment, Anso stroked the courtyard porthole in the blue salon and let his lungs empty. Apart from refurnishing the bedroom with his own things, he’d left the royal suite as it was. This room included settees and tables his great-great grandmother had chosen, creating the odd sensation that he was adrift in time.

Outside the window, night had fallen. The royal coral garden bloomed beneath the soft phosphor lights, the flowerlike polyps opening to filter drifting food. Anso watched a tiny crab fend off a bright blue fish who was trying to nibble the branches that formed the crustacean’s home. Again and again the fish darted forward, only to be driven back by the crab’s sharp claws. Neither combatant seemed to tire of the battle. Anso wished he could claim as much.

Ty had promised to come by this evening, but because he’d taken over running the guards from Anso, that promise might not be kept. Anso wasn’t certain how he’d react if his lover cancelled. Along with the rest of his life, his body was exerting new and disconcerting pressures, pressures he found difficult to ignore.

Each time he neared the palace’s sea gates, his blood would thicken and his steps would slow. He couldn’t prevent the reaction, though he tried hard enough. No matter who was with him, his groin would tighten and his prick slide free. He could feel the call of the warming ocean, just as his father warned. Someone was out there, some distant female whose blood was a match for his. He wanted to fling himself into the water and swim until he found her, wanted to fuck her amongst the waves and fill her womb with his pup. His dreams had grown increasingly explicit, laden with images of acts he’d never experienced in life. He’d wake hard as iron and wishing he’d had a wet dream.

He craved the touch of a woman more than he’d known he could crave anything.

Not a woman, he corrected, his hand forming a fist on the thick window. The woman.

If he hadn’t witnessed his mother’s sadness, he’d have long since obeyed the urge. What his blood craved didn’t justify the crime involved, nor did it guarantee anyone’s happiness. Moreover, Anso wasn’t a damned salmon. He was a modern person with a conscience.

And a responsibility to continue my ancestral line, the opposing side of him reminded. His blood carried magic that had lent generations of Vitul rulers better ruling instincts than the norm.

“Your Majesty,” his butler interrupted from the doorway behind his back. “Lady Ellice has come by. Shall I tell her you’re in?”

Anso opened his mouth and turned, but Ellice was already entering the salon.

“You don’t need to do that,” she laughingly told the servant. “Anso and I don’t stand on ceremony.”

“Actually,” Anso said, deciding this conversation was overdue, “he does need to. I have too many demands on me to let anyone, no matter how old a friend, stroll in at their pleasure.”

Ellice’s smile faltered. “You can’t mean me.”

“I do,” he said softly but firmly.

“Oh.” She blinked rapidly, her hands clutched together before her narrow waist. She looked especially nice, draped in a rich blue gown that made the most of her Vitul eyes and her fine cleavage. Anso’s sole consolation was that tonight he was unmoved by the display. “I’m sorry, cousin. I didn’t mean to offend. My father and I were wondering if you’d like to join us for a late supper. We couldn’t help noticing you barely ate two bites at the state dinner.”

Anso doubted her father had noticed anything of the sort. His Uncle Phoca was a jovial man but not particularly observant. Anso enjoyed his company, especially his stories of the Pelappo Wars. If the invitation had come from him alone, Anso would have accepted gladly and enjoyed a relaxing meal. Sadly, Ellice had the habit of treating her father like an addled child. While Anso admitted she was cleverer than her sire, he didn’t like watching it. Less intelligent or not, her father was a war hero.

“I’m afraid I have plans,” he declined politely.

“Oh,” Ellice said. “Well, perhaps another—”

Anso’s butler reappeared at the door. When he cleared his throat, anger flashed across Ellice’s normally sweet face, tightening her rosebud mouth into a flat line. The expression startled Anso enough for his jaw to drop.

“Forgive me, sire. Your ten o’clock has arrived. You did say you wanted to be informed.”

He hadn’t, but you’d never know it from the servant’s grave manner.

“Thank you, Harrison,” he said. “Show them to my office and assure them I’ll arrive shortly.”

“Well,” Ellice said with a brittle laugh. “I suppose those are my walking papers.”

Anso resisted the urge to apologize. “Please give your father my regards.”

Ellice rolled her eyes and turned. “I’m not giving up,” she threw over her shoulder. “Being king is no excuse for never taking off your crown.”

The butler came back as soon as he’d closed the door behind her. “Forgive me, sire. I didn’t mean to presume. Or to let her slip by me.”

Anso realized the man was worried he’d be disciplined. “You did fine, Harrison. Lady Ellice should be treated with respect, but it’s true I don’t want her traipsing in as she pleases. Er, did anyone actually arrive?”

The butler’s mouth gave a little twitch. “Lord Otari, sire. I put him in your office as requested.

The warmth that spread through Anso’s chest was probably too grateful. Not inclined to play games, he didn’t keep Ty waiting but went immediately to greet him.

“Hey, stranger,” Ty said, pushing off his desk and grinning.

Anso hugged him and slapped his back before letting go. “Your timing is impeccable as usual.”

“Ellice, eh? She’s not going to become less determined now that you’re king, you know.”

Anso grimaced and dropped sideways onto the office’s antique red sofa. The furniture was mostly scarlet, the room’s walls lacquered black and stenciled with the Vitul family’s signature silver eel patterns. The effect was heavy, but here too he’d decided he’d rather leave the decor alone. Lobodon had often worked here, sometimes late into the night. When Anso had been a boy, he’d liked to hide in the storage compartment beneath a drinks trolley, because he’d wanted to remain close to his father. Looking at the trolley now, he marveled he’d ever been small enough to fit.

On the other side of the room, behind the large carved desk, the king’s private sea gate was set into the wall. The hatch and wheel were fashioned from an alloy of gold and silver known as electrum, which retained magic well. The mechanism was slightly tarnished but still functioned after centuries of use. Oceana’s mages renewed the spells that powered the city’s gates periodically, ensuring the outside water stayed where it belonged. This particular hatch led to a pressurized changing tube whose further door gave into the royal courtyard, which then accessed the sea. Given the effect the gates had been having on him lately, Anso had avoided the space. He only told the butler to stash his guest here because he’d spoken without thinking.

He thought that was the reason, in any case. To bring himself here on purpose would have been stupid.

“You . . . don’t look right,” Ty said unsurely.

He didn’t feel right. Maybe it was because he hadn’t eaten or how busy he’d been all day. His head swam with dizziness, and his hands and feet tingled. If he hadn’t known how fit he was, he have sworn he was going to faint. Suddenly too heavy to move, he closed his eyes just for a second.

He dropped into a dream like a boulder through dark water. The wheel to the hatch was stuck. All his strength wouldn’t open it. He had to open it. She was out there. Waiting. Only she could complete him. His body burned with awareness, every pore opening to catch her scent. He knew he would recognize her. All he had to do was slip out into the spring currents . . .

“Anso. Anso.”

Anso shuddered awake. To his amazement, he was on his feet. Ty stood behind him, hauling him back with both arms. Anso resisted, his grip seeming welded to the big electrum wheel. He’d been trying to turn it, exactly as in his dream.

“Good Lord,” he said, dropping the handles like he’d been burned.

As he gawked at the thing, Ty placed himself between Anso and the hatch. This probably was a good idea. Anso belatedly realized his cock was hard as a rock.

Ty folded his arms and glared. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

Anso really didn’t want to. He barely wanted to tell himself. Shaken in more ways than one, he ran one hand back through his honey-colored hair. “My father warned me this might happen.”

“This being?”

“I think . . . my instincts are trying to tell me I need a human wife.”

He couldn’t stand this close to the hatch. It was making every inch of his genitals itch. He walked back to the couch and forced himself to sit. Ty followed, standing over him in a posture that said he was prepared to block him if he made a run for the sea again. His expression was wary. “Have you blacked out like this before?”

Anso shook his head. “I’ve been feeling odd, though, whenever I get close to an ocean door. I’ve been dreaming as well. About women. A woman. And not the usual sort. These dreams are as vivid as if they’re happening.” He shifted uncomfortably on the cushion, a few of the situations from those dreams making his prick pulse harder. “I thought I could resist it if I made up my mind.”

Ty sat gingerly on the couch beside him. “It looks to me like resisting it might not be the best idea.”

“I can’t give in! Just abduct some human because my body decides I need to? Look how that turned out for my mother.”

“Have you talked to Pinni? Maybe he’s got a potion he can give you.”

“I suspect he’ll take the same position as my father. Needs must, and all that.”

“Perhaps the mages then.” Ty’s hand was warm on his knee, too warm considering his arousal. “I confess I find them as creepy as you do, but if a spell could help maybe you should try. You know you can’t afford for this to happen in front of someone else.”

Anso did know it. Mad kings tended not to have long reigns. And people were already flapping their jaws about how young he was for rule: not yet forty—as if being thirty-eight rendered him an infant. “I don’t like putting myself in the mages’ debt. My father trusted the Magus, but I don’t even know his real name. You know how faeries are about those things. If he were just an elf, it might not be so bad. God.” He covered his face and rubbed it. “I think I have to do this.”

“Then you do.”

Anso dropped his hands to look at his friend. “Maybe I just think I do because my blood wants me to.”

Ty laughed at him. “You’re not your father. If you were, you wouldn’t be fighting this.”

“I loved my father.”

“Of course you did. So did we all. He was a good strong ruler. The thing is, he never really tried to understand your mother, not that I recall. He never figured out how to make her love him. I think you would. I think you look more deeply into people’s hearts than he did.” He cocked his head and offered a winsome smile. “You’d also have me to advise you. You know how big you’re always saying my brain is.”

Anso wasn’t sure women fell for brains, but how could he know? “You’d help me do this?”

“I’m the captain of your guards. I could hardly let you swim off alone. Drylanders are eccentric, but they’re as likely to defend their women as we are.”

Of all the responses he’d imagined, Ty offering to go with him wasn’t one. Maybe he hated the idea of Ellice snaring Anso more than he’d realized. Whatever the reason for Ty’s helpful attitude, Anso’s heart thumped faster inside his chest. If his friend came with him, he’d have a safety net against his blasted instincts doing something terrible. Could Anso inspire a woman from a different race to love him? It seemed too much to hope for. He barely understood were females.

“You’d stop me,” he said. “If it looked like I was going to commit some act my conscience wouldn’t be able to live with afterward.”

Ty pulled a dubious face. “You’re my friend, Anso. And my liege.”

“You have to promise.”

Ty held his gaze, thoughts flittering like baitfish behind his eyes. “I promise I wouldn’t let you do anything my conscience couldn’t live with afterward.”

Anso sensed this concession was the best he was going to get. The sea gate loomed behind him, unseen but certainly not unfelt. “Kiss me then. I could really do with a distraction.”

Something else flickered through his friend’s eyes, one more minnow of a thought.

Then Ty distracted him.

~

Ty didn’t generally let men bugger him. He preferred being the active party in sexual exchanges. Anso was the exception to that rule. Right then, he was exploiting his favored nation status with a vengeance.

Ty turned his head sideways on the red sofa cushion while Anso went at him from behind, able to do little more than take what Anso was dishing out. Fortunately, the king was good at fucking even when halfway out of his mind. Ty groaned at his building pleasure. The crest of Anso’s penis thumped the aching swell of his anal gland every single time he went in.

“God,” Anso gasped, thrusting ever more urgently. The sharp slap of his groin into Ty’s buttocks was driving him crazy, like a spanking but not. As if he knew this, Anso’s hand fumbled under Ty for his erection. When he found it, his grip was tight enough, not to mention rough enough to sink Ty’s teeth down into his lower lip.

This was good. Anso was jacking him with the precise fervor Ty’s kinks required. Sometimes Anso was overly careful with him.

“Shit, yes,” Ty said, arching his spine to encourage Anso to go deeper. This seemed to be appreciated. Anso’s second hand dug into his hip like a claw.

“God.” Anso slammed in again and held. He strained so hard, Ty assumed he was coming, but then he drew out and repeated what he’d just done. The solid, bull’s-eye blow to Ty’s prostate had his eyes crossing. Anso dragged his prick to the brink, and once more he drove in. His ball sac ground against Ty’s butt like he was trying to push his testicles in there too.

“Fuck. Ty.”

His hoarse desperation sent Ty over. Ty came with a suddenness that startled, the rush of it strong and sweet. He wasn’t certain Anso noticed. His hand continued to work his shaft so fast it was clicking in his wetness, dragging the orgasm well beyond its usual limit.

“Ah,” Anso cried. “Ahh—”

Heat flooded Ty inside. Anso was coming, the ejaculation both long and hard. Perhaps the cause was their weeks apart, or maybe Anso’s desires were more feverish from his urge to spawn. When the wet pulses finally tapered, Anso sagged over him.

“Sorry,” he panted, his hot cheek on Ty’s shoulder. “Couldn’t stop myself for a minute there.”

Ty wished he could take credit for Anso’s extraordinary loss of control. Alas, he feared he’d simply been a stand in for Anso’s mysterious future mate. This sort of thing was more Ty’s style than his friend’s. Ty often became obsessed with people he hadn’t seduced yet. The turning of the carnal tables caused more discomfort than he expected.

When Anso pulled out of his pummeled ass, the muffled moan Ty let out was precariously close to wistful.

“Sorry,” Anso said again.

His legs not yet up to rising, Ty slid back, turned, and sat next to him on the cold tile floor. Both their backs rested on the couch, both their faces matching shades of red from the vigorous sex. Anso’s mouth was swollen from their earlier kisses, his hair stuck with sweat to his broad cheekbones. Ty didn’t usually think of Anso as beautiful, but in that moment he was. His honey-lashed eyes were closed, his mind probably on anything but him.

“No need to apologize,” Ty made himself say lightly. “What’s a friend for if not to take a jolly rogering now and then?”

Without opening his eyes, Anso snorted out a laugh. “That was the best distraction I ever had.”

Ty knew Anso didn’t mean this as an insult. Somehow, though, in spite of Ty’s own profligate habits, it damn well felt like one.

Chapter Four

ANSO had hoped his mating instincts would lead him to Resurrection, a Pocket city in New York where humans were aware his race existed. He should have known he wouldn’t be that lucky.

His mother had been a native of New Jersey.

He and his three-man escort swam in seal form. Ty had chosen the Corlier brothers to round out the squad. Nico and Mark were close-mouthed as well as tough, ideal recruits for a mission Anso was trying to keep under the radar. If their king’s quest to find a mate ended in shipwreck, the fewer people who knew the better.

Once they emerged from the Helike Tunnel, they continued south along the Atlantic coast, avoiding boats and tankers as best they could. Outsiders liked seals as a rule, but they couldn’t be sure some idiot wouldn’t take a shot at them. If the mundane human was drunk or nearsighted, they might be mistaken for sharks. Their lack of dorsal fins aside, they were the same size as some.

The further they swam, the harder it was for Anso to remember dangers. Even in seal form, his body was aroused. He couldn’t precisely smell his mate, but by God he could sense her. Every nerve in his pelt was twitching, every whisker spread at full alert. He worked his tail and hind flippers harder, willing his already swift body to cut faster through the water. It wasn’t long before the others were struggling to keep up.

When he hit a hundred yards out from one particular sheltered beach, he braked so abruptly with his tail that his seal body rolled backward. His bones hummed like tuning forks as he righted himself.

This was it. She was here. His awareness of his mate was strong enough that his more rational human half simply couldn’t doubt it was real. His pulse was rippling beneath his skin, his genitals so erect it embarrassed him. Unless his kind were very adventurous, wereseals only had sex in human form.

Given that Anso knew this, Ty shouldn’t have had to grip his scruff and shake him as a reminder to transform. The others had already done so, while Anso hung there quivering. Changing took almost more concentration that he had. He visualized himself in man form, with arms and legs and the other accessories of bipedal life. Slo-ow-ly, the tingling sparkle that signaled he was successful rolled down him.

By the time it finished magically unpeeling him, he had a human body and a full erection. Anso didn’t think he’d been this hard ever. No way on land or water could his companions miss seeing it.

“Well,” laughed Nico, the older Corlier brother, his voice distorted by the murky sunlit water. He shrugged back into the small supply pack he’d volunteered to carry. “To judge by your reaction, I guess this is our last stop.”

“Are you sure?” Ty asked. “I mean, of course you’re sure, but we’re past the borders of the Pocket. This is going to be tricky. Your mate won’t have a clue why you’re kidnapping her.”

Anso met his friend’s yellow eyes. “You can wait here,” he said, knowing damn well Ty wouldn’t. “I can collect her on my own.”

Ty flinched, probably because Anso’s tone was icy. Anso didn’t know what had happened to his conscience either. He only knew his mate was here, and he was claiming her—preferably in every way possible very soon. If she was pregnant by the time they reached Oceana, that would be fine by him.

Come to think of it, being this focused on a goal was a pleasanter sensation than he’d have predicted.

“I’m not waiting here,” Nico Corlier announced. “I’ve got to admit this is my idea of fun.”

“Mine too,” Mark said with a quiet laugh.

Under other circumstances, this might have been more than Anso wanted to know about his guards. Under this one, he was grimly satisfied.

The more overpowering force he could muster, the less chance his mate would be harmed in a struggle.

“All right,” Ty said. “I guess we’re all going ashore.”

The transition from sea to air was necessarily an unpleasant one. One moment he was buoyant, and the next he was heavy. At first, he breathed rich smooth fluid, which he traded for desiccated gas. Once he reached the edge of the waves, Anso gave a great cough to clear his lungs, wishing as always that there was a nicer way to do this. For a second, his entire breathing apparatus burned, his eyes tearing violently. Then he recovered.

He noticed his discomfort hadn’t lessened his erection. Ignoring that for the moment, he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. No one seemed to be on the beach, which was clean and white and overlooked by a single weatherworn gray cottage with cedar shingles and a white back porch.

Was his mate inside that building? He wasn’t getting an inner ping as he examined the square windows. He knew she was near, not farther inland, because the rest of his body was going wild. Then his eyes lit on one of the taller dunes. The hair on his arms stood up.

There, he thought, his soul seeming to jump along with his cock. She was behind that small hill of sand. He strode toward it without hesitation, barely aware that his escort followed, spreading out behind him and scanning the land for threats.

Despite the handicap thrusting from his groin, Anso reached the goal first.

His heart nearly stopped. His mate was beautiful.

And naked.

And she wasn’t alone.

She and a rugged looking dark-haired man were curled in sleep on a blue-striped towel, snuggled into each other as trustingly as pups. That they’d been doing more than sleeping on the beach was obvious. Smears of semen had dried glossily on the woman’s slender thighs. With a sense of unreality, he noticed she was a true redhead.

Oh God, he thought, half surprised he didn’t say it aloud.

His mate was married. She wore a gold band and diamond on her left hand.

Ty jerked to a halt beside him, drawing Anso’s stupefied gaze to his. Of all the problems they’d imagined, this had not been one. Ty didn’t speak any more than Anso, but his eyes were definitely saying What now?

What now indeed? His mate was married, and clearly not unhappily. If Anso’s mother had been miserable in Oceana, what would stealing this woman from her spouse do to her? Anso couldn’t take her, and yet he couldn’t not.

As if they’d been dragged there, his eyes returned to his sleeping mate. How delicate she looked—and kind, cradling her sleeping husband’s head against her breast. It almost hurt to witness their entwined pose, to see how much they loved each other. Distantly, he sensed Ty looking at them too. Considering who Ty’s parents were, Anso could imagine what he was thinking.

His friend’s feelings didn’t matter as much as they usually did. Faint lines curved around his mate’s mouth, due to her smiling a bit in sleep. Anso was glad she was old enough to have laugh lines. A teenager wouldn’t have suited him at all. Pleased, his eyes drank her in like food: her soft round breasts, her muscular curving legs. She had the velvety skin wereseals weren’t ever born with, as if one-natured humans were more touchable than normal folk.

Despite his dismay at finding her with a companion, Anso’s blood hadn’t stopped thundering through his cock. The thought of touching this lovely woman sent an itchy tingle through his balls. There was only one way to solve this, one narrow strait through which all of them might pass safely.

“Take them both,” he said harsh and low to his men.

Chapter Five

OLIVIA dreamed someone was easing her off the towel and lifting her in his arms. The sensation was very pleasant, like being a child again. Probably James was carrying her back to the cottage.

Smiling at his sweetness—because her husband’s lower back wasn’t twenty anymore—Olivia opened her eyes.

Life as she knew it turned upside down.

A stranger was carrying her. He was quite good looking, his dark gold hair slicked around his head by water, his cheekbones broad and slanting like a Russian prince. His eyes looked straight into hers. They were an unlikely shade of blue, the same shade as the London blue topaz necklace James had given her last Christmas. Olivia doubted she could have matched the color even with contacts. She didn’t think it was her imagination that the stranger’s eyes were glowing.

They stared at her adoringly.

Alarming as all this was, it didn’t compare to the shock she felt at her own reaction. Neither terror nor outrage seized her. Instead, she felt precisely as she had when she was a freshman at NYU, the first time James grinned at her in the hall outside her dorm room.

This was her man. The one who’d keep her safe and help make her life a joy. The one she wanted to sleep with, the one she hoped would father her child. She and James had tried to have another after Violet, but a little brother or sister hadn’t been in the cards. Some primitive part of her sensed this man could fulfill that wish. Her pussy squeezed with excitement, heated moisture dewing its walls. In a single heartbeat, she was fully aroused, her clit swelling like a berry between her labia.

As she recalled, James had been an instant panty-wetter too.

“Holy crap,” she whispered, realizing she didn’t have panties now—or a single other scrap of clothing.

The stranger’s adoring regard softened. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured tenderly. “I’ve no intention of hurting you.”

He had a slight British accent, which Olivia admitted to having a weakness for. That weakness didn’t explain why her hand lay quiescent on the stranger’s rock-hard chest. He wasn’t very hairy. The fine gold peach fuzz that overlay his pecs felt a bit like fur. She should have been struggling to get away, but all she could think was that she wanted to pet him. Olivia’s mouth fell open in horror at herself. James was her husband—her soulmate, if there was such a thing. She’d never in her life wanted to cheat on him.

The stranger’s gaze slid to the pebbled tips of her breasts, which had drawn so tight they ached. “I know how you feel,” he growled, his voice as low as before. “I’d kill to make love to you right now.”

That startled Olivia into shoving at his chest. “I don’t—”

And then she heard James wake up. She jerked around in the stranger’s arms so that she could see. Three big naked men were struggling with her naked husband, who hadn’t quite made it to his feet. James was trying to fight, but they had him at a disadvantage, both in numbers and experience. James was fit, but he was no trained warrior—as these men seemed to be.

Navy seals? she wondered, but that didn’t make much sense. Forster Media specialized in corporate presentations—flash and sparkle for shareholders or employees. They had no sensitive accounts. She and James had never worked for their government or anyone else’s. No one from any military organization would bother coming after them.

“Olivia!” James cried frantically as he wrestled with his attackers. “Put my wife down, you cocksucker!”

I should say something, Olivia thought. Do something. But she’d gone quiet in the stranger’s arms again, as if her body knew something her mind did not. It was like being in a dream where you’d forgotten how to scream. The three naked attackers were wrapping her husband in some sort of semi-sheer white tape, trapping his arms so he’d stop fighting. The man who held her observed this as if their actions were no surprise. She concluded he was in charge.

“What are they doing to him?” she forced her mouth to say.

“Olivia!” James cried again.

“Silence him,” the man who held her said.

Olivia expected them to gag him. They had that tape after all. Instead, one of the men, whose skin bore the faintest pattern of leopard spots, clapped his hands overtop James’s ears and kissed him full on the mouth.

Their profiles faced Olivia. She could see the spotted man shoving at James’s lips with his tongue. James resisted that for about six seconds.

And then he kissed him back.

The shocks were piling on faster than Olivia could absorb. Did James know this man? Was this some sort of joke? But it couldn’t be. Pranks weren’t James’s style at all. She also didn’t think he’d be moaning with arousal in front of her—not if he could help himself. That he couldn’t help himself seemed clear. Bound though he was, he was pushing back at the spotted man, forcing the kiss deeper, which the other man appeared eager to allow. Beneath all this, her husband’s cock was swelling, the curve of it lifting, straightening, then thrumming thick as a flagpole toward the tape that wrapped his torso. Olivia knew James liked bondage, but more than that had to be behind his reaction.

She should have been hurt or frightened—especially with her recent suspicions about his sexual past. Perversely, Olivia thought she’d never seen anything as erotic as those men Frenching each other. Her pussy was so aroused it hurt.

“We’ve gone mad,” she murmured. Someone at the grocery must have spiked their root beer.

“Ty’s from a noble line,” said the man who held her. “Among other things, he has an aphrodisiac in his saliva. Once his hormones absorb into your . . . husband’s blood, it will make traveling easier.”

Olivia had no idea what he meant by this. She returned her attention to him and was caught again in the spell of his deep blue eyes. “You didn’t kiss me,” she said.

Her captor smiled and—oh God—he looked so beautiful her heart momentarily stopped. His strong arms tightened under her. “No, I didn’t. I guess you naturally want me.”

“I think my husband secretly likes men.” The instant the words were out, she wanted to take them back. She shouldn’t be blurting out their private business.

Her captor’s smile deepened. “Luckily, my friend Ty won’t object.”

“What do you want with us?” her sanity finally permitted her to demand. “Who the hell are you?”

Her captor’s face sobered. “I am His Majesty, King Anso the First of Oceana, and you are my mate in blood. I’m sorry not to take more time to explain, but your husband’s shouts may have attracted attention. I think we’d best get this show on the road.”

He had amazing diction for a kidnapper.

What show? she thought belatedly. And what road?

The second question was answered when King Anso—if that really was his name—began striding into the water’s edge.

“No!” she cried, this at last awakening fear in her. Olivia liked gazing at the ocean. The roughness of the surf always frightened her.

Her captor’s steps faltered but didn’t stop. “No?”

“I’m afraid of the waves.”

He did stop then, the choppy water splashing up his naked thighs, spraying her just a bit. She realized he was hard. As her weight had shifted, the silky tip of his cock bumped her bare bottom. Lord he was huge, like, porn star huge—an observation that filled her with a very inappropriate curiosity. She squirmed over an assortment of mortifying responses. Maybe worst of all, she couldn’t look away from his beautiful blue eyes. She knew her own gaze was pleading. Some part of her wanted him to forgive her phobia.

“I love to swim,” she clarified stupidly. “I just have nightmares about drowning in the ocean.”

His eyes flared with the strange glow she’d noticed earlier. “You’re with me now. You never have to be afraid of the sea again.”

~

Anso was amazed his mate had barely struggled—and also reassured. On some level, she must know what he was to her, and her instincts calmed her body.

Holding her in his arms was extraordinary. It was as if, unbeknownst to him, his life had been in pieces until that moment, and she’d drawn the fragments into a whole. He loved that her eyes kept coming back to his, even loved the confused pucker between her dark red brows.

“Tell me your name,” he said.

“Olivia,” she murmured dazedly.

“Olivia,” he repeated, thinking it beautiful. “We’re almost at the depth where I can’t hold you above the breakers. I need to kiss you now.”

Her mouth fell open, so he took it.

A groan ripped from him at his first taste of her. This was a woman’s mouth. This was his woman’s mouth. He pushed his tongue into it gently. Oh she was soft—petite and succulent. His mouth watered.

She didn’t know it, but her fate was sealed the second she swallowed.

“Mmph,” she said, perhaps a teensy bit protesting.

Anso changed angles and went deeper.

As he did, she started kissing him back. Her response was tentative but miraculous to him. Maybe his hormones hit her. Maybe she simply couldn’t resist the lure of her bloodmate. All he knew for certain was that his prick clanged between his legs, ringing for him to attend a life or death appointment. He swung her around to face him, her cushy naked body pressing his full on.

She liked that too. They moaned down each other’s throats. Olivia kissed him harder.

A wave crashed over their heads without her noticing. Anso dove them under the next together, smoothly submerging them. Olivia didn’t stiffen, perhaps because she was busy winding her arms and legs around him.

Fuck, he thought, wanting to do precisely that more than he’d have thought possible. His hand dragged down her back to clamp over her little ass. This squashed his near-bursting length into her soft belly. The pressure almost made him come, the stab of pleasure through his groin intense.

Fortunately for his pride, the next wave’s under-torque spun them around like kids rolling down a hill. Olivia struggled and pushed back from his mouth, then realized she was still breathing.

The expressions that crossed her pretty face were comical.

“Wha—” The last land air from her lungs came out in a stream of bubbles.

Holding her firmly with one arm, Anso stroked her cheek with his other hand. The red waves of her hair spread out in the currents like a portrait of Temptation. He knew then she’d always be his siren.

“You’re breathing water now,” he explained. “It’s a gift our nobles can share with other races.”

“What the fuck race are you?”

He understood her impulse to curse. “I am King Anso the First, ruler of the wereseals.”

“Wereseals.”

“Yes.”

“Wereseals.”

Her disbelief frayed his patience. “Yes.”

She narrowed her sunny blue eyes at him. If he hadn’t been holding her too close to do it, he suspected she’d have crossed her arms. “I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not.”

“Then I’m drugged.”

“Maybe a little, but not the way you mean.” He wrapped both arms behind her waist, gratified by the way she once again forgot to struggle. “We’re bloodmates. Our bodies can’t help calling to each other. That’s how I tracked you so far from my home.”

“I’m married.”

“I know.” He tried to sound calm. “I’m very sorry about that.”

He’d have been more upset if her calves hadn’t been sliding restlessly behind his, as if even in the midst of this argument, her body longed to open itself to him. He fought the groan that wanted to rise in his chest.

“What do you want with me?” she asked.

He wished he had more experience with females. Perhaps there was a more romantic, or at least a smoother way to put this.

“I want to mate you. Need to, actually. You’re the best possible mother for my children. And I’d like to make you my queen.”

This last declaration didn’t impress her. Olivia rolled her eyes. “What if I refuse?”

Since her knees had crept to his waist, he didn’t take offense. “Refusing is no longer an option.”

“Look, buddy—”

“Try releasing me if you doubt my words.”

She tried, she truly did, but she could no more let go of him than he could have let go of her. The more she tried to resist, the more her hands slid over him, her touch-hunger impossible to fight. The craving for skin-to-skin contact was a defensive mechanism. Her body wouldn’t allow her to do something so against its basic interests as putting distance between them.

“Oh God,” she gasped, the pain of longing twisting her face.

Anso took pity on them both and cupped one of her sharp-tipped breasts. A quiver ran down her body as she arched to him and whimpered. Anso understood how she felt. Her velvet skin seemed to bespell his palm. As he caressed the curve, sculpting it in his hold, the scent of her arousal filtered strongly into the saltwater. She blinked when he rubbed his thumb across her nipple.

“Oh God,” she repeated.

Her hand was slithering around his hipbone, heading straight for his cock. Anso stopped it reluctantly. “We need to leave. We’ll be safer once we reach the tunnel. I’ll take care of you then.”

“Take care of me?” she asked faintly.

He looked deeply into her eyes, his own glowing brightly enough to illuminate tiny motes in the water between their faces. “I’m going to penetrate you. I’m going to spill my seed in your pussy and make you come. Then I’m probably going to do it a lot more times.”

Her mouth fell open in amazement, her cheeks turning raspberry.

“Climb onto my back,” he ordered before he succumbed to his painful need to kiss her again. “If I hold you like this much longer, I’m going to make love to you here and now.”

She jerked and moved behind him a bit more quickly than he could be grateful for. Annoyed, though he told himself it was for the best, he reached back to coax her legs around his waist once more. They clamped on him tightly, but she didn’t grind her pussy against his back.

Never mind that, he thought. He knew the desire to rub herself over him would drive her crazy soon. The crazier she got, the easier she’d be to take once they reached the protected tunnel under the sea floor. Force was something he never wanted to resort to. To his relief, she wrapped her arms around his chest without being told, leaving his arms free to swim. Her cheek she tucked close against his neck, her soft breasts flattened against his skin. When she wriggled just a little, as if her nipples were itching, his mood brightened.

No doubt it was childish, but he also appreciated her not asking where her husband and the others had swum off to.

~

At first, Olivia tried to keep track of where they went. She was always the navigator on family road trips. Sadly, there were no street signs or K-Marts to serve as landmarks. When they veered away from the shoreline, the terrain became even less decipherable.

It didn’t help that the man whose back she clung to was incredibly distracting. His immense erection thrust up from his groin above where her calves were crossed. She kept wanting to stroke it, to see if it really was the best part of him to touch. He kept steering her hand away before it got there. Olivia wasn’t sure she could stand being put off much longer.

The frustration in her body grew by insane degrees, until her pussy felt like it was on fire. Helpless not to, she rocked her pelvis against his glutes, which were conveniently tight and hard.

“Christ,” he said after a minute of this treatment. “We’re almost there. Just hold on a bit longer.”

Olivia ground her teeth together. If this was a dream, shouldn’t she be allowed to come? She rubbed her mouth across his shoulder, searching out his pointed nipples with roaming hands. He moaned when she found the little projections and rubbed them. His body writhed so extravagantly in her hold that his swimming momentarily lost its astonishing momentum.

“O-livia,” he growled.

Something about him saying her name, as if they knew each other, shocked her into stopping. He shuddered when she did.

“Thank you,” he panted.

Was it panting when you were underwater?

He hadn’t been lying about them being close to their goal. The tunnel turned out to be a giant hatch set into the side of a rocky trench in the ocean floor. Though the entry was sheltered, Olivia didn’t understand how it could fail to be noticed. They weren’t that far from the coast, and the sunlit surface of the water was still visible above them. That sparkle grew more distant as Anso allowed their combined weight to sink down in front of the immense door.

He must have sensed the tension this spurred in her. He rubbed one of the arms she’d wrapped tightly around him. “The hatch is cloaked by magic. You can see it because you’re with me. We’ll be perfectly safe inside.”

Of course the tunnel was cloaked by magic. What else could have done the trick? Anso checked a cryptic readout beside a control panel. That wasn’t magic. That was a computer.

“The others have gone in already,” he said.

The others meaning James. The reminder of her husband’s existence should have done a better job of subduing her hormones. Her ability to think was overwhelmed by Anso’s promise to take care of her in there. Anso punched a code into the panel, his fingers fumbling as if all this rattled him too.

At last, he hit the right sequence of numbers. A smaller door swung open within the larger one. Anso pushed away from the panel and swam them both through it. Lights lit the huge space inside, long twinkly lines of brightness that curved away into the distance. The walls of the tunnel were gray but not concrete. She thought they might be high tech ceramic tile. The tiles looked wet, which of course they were. They glistered as if they contained mica. Though the passage was currently empty, it was large enough to accommodate multiple lanes of car traffic.

James and the others were nowhere in sight.

Anso’s lungs went in and out faster. Olivia became aware that the small door had shut behind them. As closely as she clung to her captor’s back, she couldn’t help but hear him swallow.

“Olivia,” he said, sounding strained as he gave her forearm another rub. “You and I both know this is going to happen. Our bodies have decided that for us. If you prefer, however, there’s a maintenance room for staff farther down. We could go there and be more comfortable.”

If Olivia waited another second, she was going to combust. She ran her hand down his rippling abs and took hold of his swollen cock, which was even silkier than she expected. As its unbelievable texture registered on the greedy nerves of one palm, she cupped and squeezed his ball sac with the other.

The back of Anso’s head hit her shoulder, his neck and spine arching as she stroked. His hand slapped over hers to drag her grip to his tip.

“Oh Lord.” He pushed it downward and up again. “Don’t do that. I have to come inside you.”

Before she could point out he was moving her hand, he wrenched around in her arms. Since Olivia was somewhat reluctant to let go of what she held, he probably hurt himself as he turned.

She wasn’t sure that mattered to him.

Anso kissed her, and she kissed him back, both their tongues immediately dueling. His groan of pleasure-pain was thrilling, and the octopus-like quality of his arms. She thought she’d seen him move fast before, but when he suddenly swam her into the tunnel wall, his velocity stunned her.

“Yes,” she groaned, loving that now she was braced for him to shove against her. Her hand reclaimed the prodigy he’d squashed between their bellies. God, it was like her hand was in love with touching him. She pushed the pad of her thumb around his meltingly smooth crest. His pre-cum must have been thicker than most men’s. It didn’t dissipate in the saltwater. She rubbed it back and forth until it coated him.

“God,” he said and shoved two long fingers inside of her.

Her mouth formed an O, but no sound came out. His fingers stroked her, gently, deeply, and it felt so good she forgot how much she wanted to play with his big penis.

“I’m sorry,” he said harshly next to her ear. “I want this to be enjoyable for you, but I’ve never had a woman before.”

He could have set a bomb off inside her pussy and not had as great an effect on her. Her inner muscles clenched around his fingers, abruptly desperate for a different part of him to fill her.

“Put your cock in me. Make me your first woman.”

He jerked back to stare at her.

She didn’t care how crazy she sounded. “Now,” she insisted.

His deep blue eyes flared white, the flash almost bright enough to blind her. He pulled his fingers from her body, grabbed her upper thighs in both hands, and wrenched them apart. She reached for his cock to put it where it belonged. The crest felt large against her.

Good thing she’d lubricated it really well.

He grunted and shoved once as a kind of test. Finding no resistance, he thrust to her end in a single stroke.

Olivia couldn’t have said which of them was happier about that.

He made a strangled sound at being surrounded, then pulled out halfway so he could plunge in again. “Jesus. You feel . . . God, I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Thankfully, he stopped trying. It wasn’t long before his half plunges turned to full length pumping, maximizing the smooth thick drag of every inch of him against every inch of her.

Apparently, he felt compelled to accompany this activity with groans of praise. Olivia was right there with him on the overwhelming excitement scale. Either of them could have gone in two seconds, but neither wanted to let go. This was too delicious to cut short. Anso stretched one arm toward a metal handhold sticking out from the glittering gray wall, using it to power more forcefully into her. Perceiving the benefit of this, Olivia grabbed it too, their white-knuckled fingers wrapped next to each other. They were anchored well and good then. They could fuck as hard and fast as they were able.

Their gazes met even as their bodies jolted. Olivia had the strangest impression that her eyes were glowing too.

“Thank . . . you,” he said, his words broken by the force of their impacts. “I need you . . . with me on this.” His eyelids squeezed shut as some blissful sensation threatened to send him over. His second hand tightened on her bottom to better guide her movements. “Please. Come with me, Olivia. I can’t . . . I can’t—”

She quickened her thrusts, which might or might not have been what he intended. Normally, she needed clitoral stimulation, but her pleasure was so sharp she felt like she was almost coming already.

Anso was closer than almost.

“Liv,” he cried, high and wild.

He slammed into her as his seed flooded out, his eyes flashing bright as his head pitched back with ecstasy. His semen detonated her sexual nerves, an explosion of pleasure no force on earth could have stopped. A climax this strong couldn’t be natural. Her inner muscles gripped him with such violence she feared she’d hurt him.

But maybe fear wasn’t the word either of them would have chosen.

He growled, pleased, as her sheath clamped his cock. His hips jammed tight to hers as he continued to shoot in her. That felt amazing too, delicious spurts of heat that contrasted perfectly with the cool water. His threat that he was going to make her pregnant didn’t trouble her at all. In that moment, another child was her dearest wish. His child, a priceless gift from the other man she adored.

Her eyes flew open at her own thoughts.

His exotically handsome face was inches away, its muscles gradually relaxing as the fervor of his bliss faded. He’d stopped thrusting while he came, but now he pulled back gently to his flare and glided in again.

He was only a bit softer than before.

Olivia must have relaxed as well. Her hand was stroking up and down his spine, from his muscular shoulders to his tight buttocks. Her calves slid up and down the back of his legs the same way she liked to do after she’d had sex with James.

“You okay?” asked the stranger who’d literally rocked her world. His eyes were as warm and loving as any she’d ever seen. For all she knew, hers looked the same.

Olivia swallowed and nodded.

He smiled, the fingers of his free hand fanning around and fondling her bottom. Olivia realized two things simultaneously: a) she was meeting his lazy thrusts, and b) they both still clutched the metal handgrip beside her head.

“You look like you were hit by a train,” he said.

Olivia cleared her throat. If his cock were that that train’s engine, she’d definitely been hit by one. She squirmed around the hot pole inside her, causing Anso to suck in a . . . a breath of water, she supposed. His cock twitched thicker between her walls, stretching them pleasantly. Apparently, he liked the constriction. He gave an extra push deeper.

“Um,” he said, suddenly sounding less sure of himself. “Do you think you could stand to go again straight away? I mean, I think I could let you rest a bit, but I’d rather, you know, scratch the itch some more without waiting.”

His hopeful words were all it took for a renewed ache to coil around her sex. Olivia wanted to groan. She couldn’t want him again. He’d just given her—God forgive her—the best orgasm of her life. At that thought, the itch he’d spoken of flared in her.

She had to have it rubbed again or she’d die.

“Shit,” was all she managed to say aloud.

Anso’s eyes took on the brightness of compassion. “You think you’re being unfaithful for wanting me.”

“I am. I love James.”

He flinched, which made her feel confusingly guilty. “Olivia, I promise I’ll do my best to make sure he’s happy too.”

Olivia pressed her lips together and looked away from him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about what making James happy might entail.

“We’re going to do this again,” he warned. “Bloodmates need regular intercourse. We can have sex now, or we can have it later, but trust me we’ll have it. Lots and lots of it, whether we like it or not, for as long as we both shall live.”

His tone had turned oddly grim. When she returned her gaze to his, his expression was guarded. Was he hoping she’d fall in love with him? Was he as much of a heart-and-flowers guy as her husband?

Lord help me, she prayed, aware that the responsibility for her decisions was going to be hers. Now or later might be a small choice, but it was a choice all the same.

“Take me now,” she said with a sigh that wasn’t wholly regretful.

As his blue eyes widened, she pressed her mouth to his.

Chapter Six

JAMES Forster was so horny he couldn’t think. Okay, he could, but he didn’t want to. This whole . . . double abduction scene had to be a nightmare.

He didn’t understand why Olivia hadn’t fought that cocksucker—that king, according to the man who’d kissed him. James’s kidnapper had shoved him into a break room inside the underwater tunnel, and was even now performing the swimmer’s equivalent of pacing. The speed with which he zoomed from one tiled wall to the other was eye-popping. James didn’t know why, but he’d sent the other two men ahead, leaving him and James alone.

Ty, the man called himself. God help James, but he was hot. Tall and well proportioned, with muscles that were for more than show. His chest was the sort women swooned over, his butt the definition of a nice ass. In their way, his legs were as sexy as Olivia’s.

James tried not to picture nuzzling his way up them.

He’d entertained the occasional fantasies about having sex with men. They troubled him a little, but he thought he knew where they came from. Since the day they’d met, Olivia had gotten him too revved up to question that he was straight. Apart from one buddy he’d traded hand jobs with in high school, he’d never had sex with another male.

That seemed like an oversight now.

The Man From Atlantis had a huge hard-on. James could hardly keep his hands off his own, given that it itched like crazy and felt three inches longer than normal. He hung by the wall, out of the other man’s way, one arm crooked through a handy sway strap to keep from floating around. Ty had removed his gag and bindings once they’d entered this room. James supposed it didn’t matter if he screamed down here. That Ty could overpower him any time he wanted he’d already learned.

“You’re making me dizzy,” James complained to his captor.

He shouldn’t have thought that word, captor. The reminder that he was a prisoner sent a shudder of excitement down his spine, one that didn’t stop until it zinged out his cock.

As if it had taken him a second to hear, Ty stopped whizzing back and forth. He looked at James with his strange burning yellow eyes.

“Anso is fucking your wife,” he said, striving for a cool demeanor he didn’t quite pull off. “It’s going to be the best sex they’ve had. No matter how much she loves you, she’s going to want more of her new favorite drug. Now’s your chance to work on getting used to that.”

He had the voice of a British rocker, his looks appropriately golden. Golden hair, golden skin, slightly darker golden spots gilded over him. His pubic thatch resembled fur, the hair pelt-like rather than curly. His cock stood straight up from it. Had all that swimming back and forth felt good on his skin? Was that why Ty wasn’t touching himself? James wanted to touch him. James wanted to lick him up and down like a freezer pop. To him, Ty’s prick was as beautiful as his face.

James wrenched his gaze away with an effort. Jesus, how long had been staring? He focused on Ty’s eyes.

“Are you in love with the king?” he asked.

Ty blanched, his golden skin going pale. “Get real,” he said, recovering a second too slowly to be believed. “I’m Lord Tykon, the Great Whore of Oceana. I’ll never settle for one partner.”

Olivia often complimented James on being a good listener. James was never as impressed by this as she was. He knew he was naturally interested in other people’s stories—born nosy, he supposed. In spite of the situation, this man’s story intrigued him.

“The great whore,” he repeated. “Do people pay you to sleep with them?”

“No, they don’t pay me,” he snapped angrily. “What’s the matter with you? Your wife is fucking another man. Are you so dickless that doesn’t bother you?”

“It bothers me,” he said, though he felt oddly calm. Maybe his CEO half was coming to the fore. What was done was done. He and Olivia had to find a way out of this, whatever this was.

Ty stared at him. The other man was hanging there in the water like he was used to it. His gaze descended to the stingingly hard erection that bobbed between James’s thighs. The corners of his sensual mouth turned up. “That boner should have worn off by now. I kissed you a while ago.”

James blushed hot enough for his cheeks to burn.

Ty’s smile broadened mockingly. “Maybe you are interested in payback for that pretty king-fucking wife of yours.”

James should have been furious. Instead, a thrill surged through his pounding veins as a quart more blood squeezed into his penis.

“Jesus,” Ty breathed, watching that. “I could eat you up for breakfast.”

And then he put his words into action. He zipped to James in that insanely speedy way and gripped James’s hips in hard golden hands.

“Yum,” he said, licking his beautiful spoiled-boy mouth.

James meant to push him away, meant to say Get off me or What the fuck do you think you’re doing? But the road to hell was paved with meant to. Somehow, his free hand fell to the back of Ty’s gilded head and pulled him closer. When Ty’s sleek tongue swept across his glans, James shook so hard he could have been suffering from a fit. When Ty engulfed the knob in his big warm mouth, the instant explosion of pleasure shoved him to the verge of coming.

“Not yet,” Ty growled. To enforce this, he gripped the base of James’s ball sac and pulled down sharply.

The pain forestalled him from ejaculating, but not from enjoying what Ty was doing with his mouth. Possibly, given James’s kinks, the pain made him enjoy it more. He’d never had a man suck him off. Ty’s mouth was harder and bolder than a woman’s.

It also took more of him.

Moaning and unable to stop himself, James bucked his hips forward.

“That’s it,” Ty praised, rising up to drag his warm tongue around the head. “Give me more of that. Fuck my mouth like you’re going to die.”

He was going to die, and soon, if Ty didn’t yank his balls down again. James dug his fingers deeper into Ty’s hair, which floated teasingly around them. His body was really getting into this. Ty set up a steady rhythm. Up and down. Sucking and licking. Wonderful sensations gathered in James’s groin, like weights were massing there. He remembered Olivia kissing the king as he’d held her above the waves. She hadn’t been resisting. She’d been eating at his mouth like she did with James if it had been a while.

Did Ty and the king fuck each other? Was the ruler of Oceana truly a cocksucker? That made more pictures in his mind. A cry escaped his chest as Ty’s head started bobbing faster. James was writhing now, unable to control himself. The currents caressed his body with each movement. God, he’d never experienced a rush like this. His balls were going to turn inside out.

He clenched his teeth and tried to hold onto the pleasure.

He might have succeeded if he hadn’t opened his eyes to watch his captor going down on him. There was a reason Ty hadn’t tugged his balls. His right hand was occupied with his own erection, pumping it up and down as fast as he’d been swimming. The head of his cock was reddened, the shaft veiny and swollen. Even as James watched, pre-cum welled from the slit.

His scalp prickled so strongly, it could have been peeling off. James gasped a second before he came. Ty’s answering grunt around his penis said he was coming too. That really kicked James around the bend. His ejaculation shot out so hard it hurt—and James enjoyed that fine. Images rolled across his mental movie screen as ecstasy roared through him. Olivia coming. The handsome king suckling her breasts. The four of them forming an eight-legged monster as they fucked each other in someone’s bed.

James’s climax spiked until he was screaming silently.

The pain-pleasure turned to heaven as Ty sucked down every drop.

When the earth settled back into place, Ty leaned his golden brow against James’s belly. Slowly, James forced his fingers to relax in Ty’s hair. Ty was probably lucky he hadn’t yanked him bald. He didn’t know what to say. Thank you seemed as inappropriate as What the hell was that?

He knew what it had been: the hardest orgasm ever, a release he felt like he’d been craving for ten lifetimes. As dearly as he loved Olivia, and as incredible as sex between them was, she’d never wrung him out like that.

The peculiar thing was, thinking about her brought his exhausted cock to stirring life again.

I’ve gone mad, he thought. Stark raving sex-crazed mad.

This wasn’t something he’d expected to do at forty-five.

Perhaps shock caused his hand to fall to Ty’s bowed shoulder. The gentle touch caused the other man to jerk back.

Ty rose stiffly, so much wariness in his eyes James couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. In his experience, people with eyes like that hadn’t been loved enough as children.

“We need to go,” Ty said coolly. “Nico and Mark will have reached the palace by now.”

There seemed no purpose in objecting. James was pretty sure he’d just taken Stockholm syndrome to a whole new level.

Chapter Seven

KING Anso had a private entrance into his palace, located in a gorgeous aquarium garden. Olivia might have admired the colorful fishes more if she hadn’t been changing over from breathing water to breathing air. Suffice to say, the changeover was uncomfortable but quick. When she’d finished hacking out her lungs on her hands and knees in his depressurizing tube, Anso helped her up. He handed her a small silver cup to drink.

“Sip this,” he said, steadying her shaking hand with his. “You don’t want it to go down the wrong way.”

No kidding, Olivia thought. She was relieved to discover the drink wasn’t alcohol but something cooling and slightly sweet. It soothed her throat perfectly. Having Anso coddle her felt like her first morning after with James. Anso hovered on the edge of fussing just like James had. She found it awkward and yet weirdly endearing.

“It gets easier,” he said. “The first time is always the hardest.”

She knew he didn’t mean the first time one cuckolded one’s husband. Given that she’d initiated their second no-holds-barred erotic session, she felt almost as guilty as if that had been his meaning. She nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes on her bare wet feet and her head hanging.

Anso’s hand settled gingerly on her shoulder. “I know this must be difficult for you, now that our heat has backed off. I promise you weren’t imagining the connection between us.”

She nodded again, unwilling to look at him for fear she’d feel the same magnetic pull as those other times. Were wereseals like vampires? Could they compel you with their eyes?

Oh God. She was jolted by a new possibility. If wereseals were real, what else was?

She almost looked up, almost drew breath to ask. Stubbornly, she closed her mouth. There was a sensible explanation for all of this.

Anso squeezed her shoulder and then let go. “I guess—” He looked behind him at the old-fashioned submarine-type hatch. “I guess we’ll go in. Your husband and Ty are most likely in my apartments.”

At least he was still calling James her husband.

His handprint was required to open the hatch to his rooms—to safeguard his royal person, she assumed. Did getting out require a handprint too? Would she have the nerve to attempt an escape if she got the chance? They’d swum quite a ways to reach here, and at Anso’s super speed. The exact length of the tunnel she couldn’t judge, or what underwater perils they’d avoided by taking it. Olivia always had to leave the room when James watched Shark Week. She seriously doubted she’d like meeting them in real life.

On the bright side, she and James didn’t have to find their way back to Long Island. They only had to reach ordinary humans. Anso’s people lived in concealment. Probably they wouldn’t want to expose themselves. Olivia simply had to make sure she was never, ever alone near the sea again.

Anso sighed as he tugged the heavy hatch open.

They stepped—still dripping—into a handsome office. The color scheme was dramatic. Striking silver eel patterns danced across black walls, and silvery-gold portholes provided views of the water garden they’d just left. The mostly scarlet furnishings were good quality antiques—shabby chic for people with long histories and high incomes. The floor was a shiny glasslike black stone whose smoothness delighted her bare feet.

She realized Anso was watching her take in her surroundings.

“Many things here will be what you’re used to,” he said. “Our cultures aren’t entirely alien.”

She looked at him, trying to gauge his mood. Cautious was the best description she came up with.

“Anso,” she began. He said her name at the same time. Before they could sort out who’d speak first, a knock sounded on the door.

“Sire,” said a veddy British voice. “If I might take the liberty, I brought Her Majesty something to wear.”

Her Majesty. Olivia’s brows lifted. Anso pulled a face like he hadn’t meant for this to happen, then went to open the paneled door. He didn’t crack it far enough for Olivia to see who was there, a consideration she should have been grateful for. She was in her birthday suit. Anso accepted a small bundle from his unseen male caller.

“Thank you, Harrison,” he said, more formal than he was when he spoke to her. “I take it the others have arrived?”

“Lord Tykon and his companion are in the blue salon.”

“Very good. If you’d be so kind, please order everyone a meal.”

Olivia’s stomach growled. She guessed she’d . . . worked off the sandwiches she and James had eaten at their eons-ago picnic. Anso must have heard the reaction. He was smiling faintly when he passed her the pile of clothes.

“I hope this isn’t like one of those pirate books,” she said unthinkingly.

Anso had the gift of quirking just one eyebrow. “Pirate books?”

Because Olivia’s accountant nature was incapable of giving half explanations, she assumed a pirate voice. “Wench, put on this low-cut gown. I want to see how you look in it.”

Evidently, the king was acquainted with these stories. Anso’s grin slanted up on the opposite side from his eyebrow, an expression that made him look like the naughtiest boy in the neighborhood. He’d been so serious till now that it startled her. “It’s a lounging robe. Perfectly modest.”

It was more than modest. It was the most amazing garment she’d ever slid her arms into. The robe’s silk was cool and heavy, the embroidery clearly created by an artist. The silver eels that swam across the rich blue cloth seemed to writhe. Olivia tied the waist belt and stroked the pattern, amazed by how velvety smooth the stitching was.

“Vitul family symbol,” Anso informed her. “Done in enchantable electrum thread. The robe is spelled to protect you from magical attacks.”

Olivia’s jaw dropped and hung open.

“I’m not expecting attacks,” he hastened to assure her, misunderstanding her reaction. “I’m sure my people will accept you, just as they did my mother. In any case, the palace hasn’t seen a misuse of magic incident in years.”

“Magic,” she said.

His brow furrowed before it cleared. “I thought you . . . Olivia, I’m a wereseal. We were both breathing underwater. I told you magic was what shielded the Helike Tunnel from discovery.”

He had told her. She’d simply preferred to deny it.

“Vampires?” she burst out.

“What about them? Oh. You mean are they real? Yes, and a great many other creatures besides. Faeries. Elves. I’ve never met a weretiger; they don’t like water, so they don’t visit Oceana, but I hear they’re wonderfully fierce and charming. Any race is welcome in the Pocket as long as they abide by fae law. Faeries are top dogs when it comes spells. They created the half-magic territory where most supes live. While the different city-nations rule themselves, the fae have the final say on what goes.”

Because her knees felt a trifle wobbly, Olivia sat on a bright red couch. It was firm and comfortable. “Do they sparkle?”

“Vampires or faeries?” He flashed a grin when she gawked. “I saw that Twilight movie on the Import Channel.”

“Faeries,” she clarified breathlessly.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Quite beautifully, as it happens. Real faerie dust is a sight to see. Vampires don’t sparkle, I’m afraid, though other things Outsiders write about them are true. Outsiders are what Pocket residents call people who live beyond our borders. It’s bit of an insult, but we also call them mundanes.”

Olivia pressed her palm to her pounding heart. Anso dropped beside her on the couch, his knee bumping hers as companionably as if they’d been lovers for years. He laid his hand gently on her leg. A warmth she couldn’t control suffused her thigh.

“Wonders abound here, Olivia. More than you can imagine. I hope you’ll open yourself to enjoying them.”

She saw he meant it, which didn’t make him less of a kidnapper.

“Could I speak to my husband now?” she asked politely.

He didn’t wince, but his eyes searched hers. “Of course,” he said. “Just let me grab my clothes.”

When he rose, he was smart enough not to hold out his hand to her.

~

As near as Olivia could figure, Anso’s rooms were laid out in a bending line around his octagonal coral garden. The color scheme for his salon was pale blue and silver, the furniture faded old French in style. The light that shone through the portholes made it look like a normal day outside, if you ignored the wavery reflections. The wereseals must have known how to replicate sunlight. A line of potted palmettos interspersed the round windows, their fronds lush and vigorous.

James was dressed in lace-up buckskin trousers and a full white shirt—which was either piratical or medieval, depending on your perspective. He leaped to his feet from a silver loveseat the instant Olivia and the king came in. He and Olivia hurried to each other and hugged tightly, a response she doubted either of them thought twice about, despite the eyes on them. To her relief, the love that welled up inside her was a strong as ever. This was her man, holding her in his arms. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek on his broad shoulder.

James’s embrace tightened. “God, Olivia. I’m sorry.”

This wasn’t the most reassuring greeting he might have uttered, though—admittedly—Olivia owed her own apologies. She pushed back a little to look at him. His eyes were slumberous beneath their worry, his mouth relaxed. He looked the way he did after they’d had one of their Wild Sex Weekends—a tradition they’d established the first summer their daughter Violet begged them to let her attend band camp. They told their friends they were going out of town but really stayed in bed. Though Violet’s skill with the trumpet never took off, the Wild Sex Weekends did.

To see that pleasured look on her husband’s face when she hadn’t put it there was a shock. Olivia shot a glance at the tall golden man who stood with his back to one of the round windows. Anso’s friend met her gaze without expression. She did notice his fingers curling toward his palms, his hands not quite making fists. The black centers of his yellow eyes jumped bigger.

Because she couldn’t very well ask him why, she returned her gaze to James. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. You?”

She nodded, and he stroked her damp hair behind her ear. His hair was dry. How long had she and Anso’s . . . activities kept the others waiting here?

“He didn’t hurt you?”

Olivia blushed and shook her head.

“All right,” James said, seemingly to himself. He hugged her again. “All right.”

She sensed James looking over her head at Anso, his hand stroking up and down her back through the blue silk robe. “She’s still mine,” he said to the king. “You can’t undo that.”

The calmness of his voice surprised her. Anyone who heard him would have recognized both truth and confidence in it.

“I’m hoping we can reach a compromise,” Anso responded.

The man by the window bit out a terse swear word.

James tensed but didn’t let her go. “My wife and I need some time alone.”

Olivia didn’t see Anso’s measuring stare, just felt a buzzy prickle at the back of her neck. “Fine,” the king said after a brief pause. “Meet us in the dining room when you’re done. It’s two doors further from this chamber.”

James stood where he was, holding her, until the other men exited. Only then did he push back and clasp her hands.

“The spotted man sucked me off,” he blurted. “And it felt really good.”

In spite of everything, or perhaps because of everything, Olivia let out a breathy laugh. “You always did like to get your confessions out first thing.”

“And you always prefer to think them through.” His eyes asked questions his mouth wasn’t ready to.

“We had intercourse,” she said. “Twice. He didn’t have to force me.”

“And you enjoyed it? No.” He wagged his head. “You don’t have to tell me. Of course you enjoyed it. He’s probably a stud and a half. You have that look you only get after one of our Wild Weekends. At least . . . At least tell me he used protection.”

“I’m afraid he didn’t.” Olivia sighed resignedly. “At the time, I was hoping he’d give me a baby.”

James closed his eyes, though he had to know she wasn’t playing Hurt You Worse. Their doctors hadn’t identified which of them was responsible for her problems conceiving a second time. After a few rounds of inconclusive tests, she and James decided they didn’t want to know. The daughter they did have was more important to focus on.

James opened his eyes slowly. “Maybe he could get you pregnant. He is younger than me.”

Olivia clasped his face, hating the hint of bitterness in his tone. “We need to get home. To our life. To Violet. I know she’s grown up, but she still needs us.”

James was silent for longer than she expected.

“You want to stay?” she burst out in disbelief.

“Not want to. Or not exactly. But I’m not sure we have a choice. That king fellow isn’t going to let you go. He thinks you’re his mate in blood. His friend claims you two need to have frequent sex, like it’s an addiction.”

“People recover from addictions.”

“Yes,” he said. “But until we figure out how to get out of here, we might have to play along.”

“It wouldn’t just be play. These people make us feel things.”

“I know,” he said.

They looked at each other. She watched his pulse throb at the side of his neck, just like her own was doing. This, at last, frightened them.

“I love you,” he said huskily. “Nothing that’s happened can change that.”

“Even knowing I’ve been with another man?”

“Even that. I wish—” Her husband’s voice sank lower. “I wish I’d seen you with him. I wish I’d been there to help.”

This confession plain stunned her. James wanted to watch another man fuck her? A second pulse started thudding between her legs, where her clit was palpably swelling.

Her amazement must have been apparent. James’s hazel eyes turned shy. “Wouldn’t you have wanted to watch Ty go down on me?”

He called the man by his name, and that startled her as well. She ordered herself to be as honest as James had been. “Yes,” she said. “When he kissed you at the beach, when I saw how much you enjoyed it, my body was excited.”

“Then maybe we can get through this. This place is pretty amazing.”

Genuine amusement rose in her. “My adventurer.”

“You’re one too, or you wouldn’t have married me.”

She stroked both sides of his face, his hint of dark afternoon bristle rasping her fingertips. One of them had to think like an accountant. Set terms and things like that. “We don’t let them separate us.”

“No,” he agreed.

“And we get a message to Violet ASAP, enough to keep her from worrying.”

“They have computers here. Maybe we can connect to the internet.”

Olivia’s heart fluttered, the emotional drag of fear changing to excitement. Had they really decided to do this? James’s hands tightened on her upper arms. The sudden light in his eyes kicked her pulse faster.

“God,” he groaned. “I would kill to fuck you right now.”

His words weren’t an exact match for Anso’s from earlier, just close enough to send a shiver skipping like a pebble along her spine.

~

Kings, it seemed, didn’t eat simple snacks. Thanks to the butler, a table large enough for twenty was at least half-filled with platters. James and Olivia were lucky they liked seafood, since every sort James could imagine was laid out—including an array of sushi.

Anso poured wine for everyone, seeming to enjoy playing host. “You have to have wine with fish,” he said, a smile playing around his mouth as he noted James’s surprise. “If the fish finds too much water in your stomach, he might start swimming around again.”

It occurred to James that the king might be trying to get them drunk, but apart from his joke, he didn’t push the alcohol. Anso and Ty both were well-mannered eaters, and apparently familiar with lots of forks. Neither was shy about digging in while their “guests” were still studying the offerings.

“Weres have fast metabolisms,” Anso explained politely. “Yours are likely to increase as well. Both of you easily accepted the changes required to breathe water.”

Because Anso was being civilized, James decided he could too. “Genetic changes, you mean. Do wereseals transmit a virus through saliva?”

And will it wear off? he wondered privately.

Anso offered Ty half the lobster meat from his claw. Ty accepted it without fuss, demonstrating that these two were indeed long-time companions. A sensation James didn’t want to identify tightened in his chest.

His friend’s stomach taken care of, Anso addressed James’s question. “Our mages and scientists have tried to pin down the factor that causes the partial change, but neither has succeeded. We do know only royals can pass it on. It’s been used a time or two to verify a particular king or queen’s bloodline.”

Olivia sat beside James, as Ty sat beside Anso. She scooped some red caviar and sour cream onto a cracker and slid it onto James’s plate. His eyes widened, but he didn’t think she was consciously echoing the king’s gesture with the lobster, just being her usual thoughtful self. Oddly disconcerted, James spun the loaded cracker in a circle.

“If you—” He stopped, momentarily unable to push the question out. “If you and Olivia had a child . . .”

The king’s deep blue gaze settled quietly on his. “The child would be a were, fully royal in every way. Another of the mysteries we’re unable to explain.”

Rocked by that answer, James took a swallow of the pale yellow wine. It was light and delicious, the product of a grape he couldn’t identify. It managed to oil his brain into working.

What would he and Olivia do if she was pregnant by the time they escaped? Raise the child in seclusion? Keep it in a bathtub? Would they even be able to figure out what wereseals needed to grow up? Would the baby look human when it was born?

Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face.

“She’s not pregnant,” Anso said, setting down his own wineglass. “I can read her energy. I’ll know the instant it happens.”

Now James heard a male challenge in his voice, and no small amount of royal pride. James supposed he’d chapped Anso’s ego when he’d said Olivia was still his.

“I am in my forties,” Olivia put in. “Me having a baby might not be possible.”

“It is possible,” Anso said, turning stern eyes to her. “In truth, the ideal age for conceiving among our people is fifty or later. To breed before one is thirty is considered scandalous.”

“But I’m not your people,” Olivia pointed out.

James didn’t think she meant to hurt him, but the king appeared taken aback by this statement.

“Oh boy.” Ty laughed into his napkin.

“You have something to add?” Olivia asked him in the cool voice she’d invented for Violet’s teenage rebellion stage.

Ty stopped laughing, but his eyes sparkled. “Only that you are his people. No one more so in the whole universe.”

“Ty,” Anso said warningly. “Give Olivia a chance to adjust.”

“Adjust to what?” she huffed.

The currents in the room had definitely gotten strange. The king looked vaguely guilty, while Ty seemed both bitter and amused. Anso frowned at his friend, which caused him to guffaw outright.

The warm rolling sound made James’s cock twitch inside his pirate pants.

“Adjust to what?” Olivia repeated.

“Ty only means you need not have health concerns. Living in Oceana is beneficial for most humans.”

Anso wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling the entire truth. Twenty-five years in business had tuned James’s antenna for evasions. He reached under the table to squeeze Olivia’s hand. As was usually the case, she squeezed him back and calmed. They’d always steadied each other.

“I’m not forgetting this conversation,” she said evenly to the king.

Someone rapped lightly on the door to the dining room. The king gave his man, Harrison, the okay to come in. Unlike the other men, the butler was resplendent in a black and white penguin suit. Thinking the term more appropriate here than ever, James smiled softly to himself.

“Sire,” said the butler. “I’m afraid there’s been a . . . leakage of information in the kitchens. The dessert course has arrived early, and Lady Ellice has come with it.”

“Shit,” said the king, which implied Lady Ellice wasn’t a welcome guest. “Can’t you get rid of her?”

“I can, sire. However—” If possible, the butler looked even more constipated. “You need to inform me if the judicious use of force is permissible. When I tried to guide her away before, she clung to the doorway.”

“Good Lord!” Anso exclaimed as Tykon once again burst out laughing. Anso spun to him. “This isn’t funny. Ellice must have lost her mind.”

“Ellice is too smart to lose her mind.” Ty’s sardonic manner served nearly the same function as his laugh. “She’s just guessed your iron is hot, and now is the time to strike.”

Anso’s bluffly handsome face turned pink. “My iron is spoken for!”

“She doesn’t know that,” Ty said.

“Crap,” Anso said, then turned resignedly to Olivia. She was watching all this with interest. “I’m sorry. I had intended to . . . to . . .”

“—have time to sort things out?” Ty archly suggested.

“Yes, to have time to sort things out between . . . all of us . . . before news of your existence became public. Unfortunately, my cousin Ellice cannot—at least not decently—be manhandled out of here by my butler. I need to receive her. You should feel free to withdraw to the other room.”

This last was said hopefully. James rolled his lips together to hide his smile. Olivia might be shy, but she was no doormat. No way would she make Anso’s life that easy.

“I’d rather stay,” she said demurely, her hands folded like a schoolteacher’s on the table. “I’m sure it would be an honor to meet your relatives.”

Anso heaved a weary sigh. “Fine. Just, please, don’t pay Ellice too much mind. Your position is unassailable, as is . . . as is the respect with which I already regard you.”

James suspected he and Olivia wore matching expressions of surprise. Naturally, Olivia deserved admiration. Olivia was awesome. The thing was, neither of them expected the king to be professing respect for her. Ty didn’t either. His golden lashes blinked rapidly in front of his yellow eyes.

~

Olivia watched the occasional soap in the company break room on her lunch hour. Ellice’s type wasn’t hard to peg. She was the fake-sweet frenemy who snuck around causing trouble while pretending to be a nice person. Olivia was more relieved than she should have been that Anso didn’t seem to buy what she was selling.

It was hard to respect a man who fell for that kind of thing.

Unaware she’d been seen through, Ellice tinkled out a bunch of baloney about how surprised she was that Anso would disappear without telling anyone. He knew he was supposed to file travel plans! And take a proper vehicle. Did he think this was the middle ages to be swimming God knew where under his own power? It was barely spring outside. She was so glad he’d returned safely, and wasn’t it nice of the royal kitchens to help her prepare his favorite dessert for him?

That nonsense delivered, Lady Ellice got down to the brass tacks of what she’d come for: discovering why the hell another female was sitting at the king’s table.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Lady Ellice said, holding out an elegant hand to her. Anso’s cousin was taller and curvier than Olivia, but also very strong. Her sleeveless yet vaguely Victorian gown bared arms that could have competed in Olympic sports. Her eyes were the same gorgeous blue as Anso’s—a family trait, she presumed. Despite her apparent strength, her skin was delicate enough to look translucent.

Olivia was childishly pleased her fingernails were currently in good shape. They got ragged if she neglected them. Accustomed to shaking hands with men, she gave Lady Ellice a firm but not over-assertive grip. “I’m Olivia. I’m a guest of King Anso.”

“And a mundane,” Lady Ellice observed, using the term Anso had warned her was insulting. “That’s . . . extremely interesting. His Majesty didn’t tell me he wanted to meet Outsiders.”

It was too bad this wasn’t a soap opera. Olivia would have asked Ellice if she’d have offered to introduce him to some.

“Olivia is being modest,” Anso said.

They’d all risen for his cousin’s entrance, and somehow none of them had sat again. Olivia suspected that would be too much like letting down their guard around his relative. Anso was standing a foot from Olivia. As he spoke, he took her hand. Olivia met the subtle question in his eyes with an equally subtle nod. She’d back his play if he wanted to make one. James would want her to. He’d never liked fake people.

Satisfied, Anso turned back to Ellice and dropped his bomb. “Olivia is my mate.”

“What?” Ellice’s horrified expression was the first honest one she’d displayed. “She can’t be. She and this other mundane are married. They’re wearing matching rings! I assumed you’d tired of balling Ty and brought her here to play with.”

Olivia gave the woman credit for deductive reasoning—minus a couple debits for not watching her tongue better. Without looking away from Ellice, Anso’s thumb caressed Olivia’s knuckles.

“You’re my cousin,” he said calmly. “And royal in your own right. Nonetheless, it isn’t proper for you to speak of your queen that way.”

“My queen!” Ellice was sputtering with anger. “Never!”

“Our union has been consummated. It cannot be annulled.”

Olivia hadn’t known this, and it gave her a turn. She’d thought there had to be a ceremony—a ritual exchange of sardines at least. James hand came to brace the small of her back from the other side. The gesture was small, but Ellice noticed it.

“She’s married,” she repeated, her eyes pleading for him to concede her point.

“Similar cases have occurred in the course of our history. You know as well as I do that blood law rules supreme.”

“But why would you mate a married woman?” Ellice’s confusion seemed sincere. “You saw what happened between your mother and your father, and your mother’s affections were free to give. Don’t you want a queen who loves you?”

Whether Ellice loved Anso as much as she loved the idea of ruling was questionable. All the same, she knew him well enough that her question struck a nerve. Anso flinched, his hand jerking slightly in Olivia’s.

“I shall love Olivia enough for both of us,” he said.

His dignity—or perhaps it was humility—astonished Olivia. The way he pulled himself straighter and met his cousin’s gaze caused her throat to tighten. But she couldn’t promise to love him. That would make her as false as Ellice. She wasn’t even planning to stay. She squeezed Anso’s fingers instead, oddly comforted when his squeezed hers in answer.

“You’re crazy,” Ellice said. “And this isn’t over.”

That made Olivia smile, because it was precisely the parting shot a good soap opera villainess would fire off. Ellice’s sharp eyes caught the flicker of movement at the corners of Olivia’s mouth. She stopped and stared hard at her. Olivia just knew the other woman wanted to warn her not to get too comfortable.

Sadly, Anso’s cousin had rediscovered her self-control. Lifting her chin—which really was regal—she strode without another word from the dining room.

“I thought you wanted dessert,” Ty tossed after her. At some point, he’d sat back down in his chair. He lounged in it lazily, the perfect picture of bad-boy insouciance.

“Ty,” Anso said scoldingly. “There’s no need to bait her.”

“Sorry.” Ty grinned so they knew he wasn’t. “Watching Ellice get her comeuppance was the most fun I’ve had in a while.” His eyes cut to James and gleamed brighter. “Make that the second most.”

James made a low sound beside her. He covered it by clearing his throat and turning to address the king. “What will your cousenemy do?”

“My what?” Anso asked.

“You know, a frenemy but a cousin.”

“Ah.” James had made Anso smile, which pleased Olivia in complicated ways. “I expect my cousenemy is heading straight for the family lawyer.”

“There are precedents for what you’ve done,” Ty confirmed grudgingly. “William the Second’s queen was a pre-married Outsider. And Conjugus the Magnificent’s—though that was prior to Oceana being magically transplanted to the Pocket. The legal parallels might not apply perfectly.”

“Blood law trumps everything,” Anso said. “The legalities at least I have no worries about.”

He sighed, which suggested he had worries on other fronts. He released Olivia’s fingers, freeing her from the dilemma of whether to comfort him again.

“Your mother was an Outsider?” she asked, too curious not to.

“From New Jersey. Her name was Denise.”

He sounded tired when he told her. Queen Denise. Perversely, she thought Queen Olivia had a nicer ring.

“Well, I want dessert,” Ty announced. “Say what you will about Ellice, this apple crumble looks delicious. Who besides me wants some?”

“I could have a bite,” James said tentatively.

They all could, evidently. Their appetites whetted by the drama, they sat down together and polished off the treat.

~

The king excused himself from the table before the others, returning as the kitchen servers finished clearing the plates. James believed he’d spotted the leak among them; one young man was especially shifty-eyed. Telling Anso could wait until James discovered what the punishment for blabbing was. If the man’s tongue was going to be cut out, he’d keep his identity to himself.

“Forgive me,” the king said as he came back. “I don’t wish to abandon you on your first night here, but I need to speak to the head of my King’s Council. It’s important that I ensure my cousin isn’t spinning the news of your arrival to suit herself. Ty, I’ve pulled together some viewing material in the library. Could you show the . . . Forsters how to work the machine?”

Ty rose, the deference in his manner seeming very natural. Sardonic ways aside, Ty respected his friend’s position. “Of course. Do you want me to join you with Lord Noth when I’m through?”

“No. I’d feel more comfortable if you stay here to watch over them.”

Did he mean watch over or guard? James couldn’t tell from his demeanor.

“Are we in danger?” he asked aloud.

Anso looked at him, and James understood why Olivia was affected by those deep-blue eyes. They weren’t just beautiful, they were soulful, as if the man behind them were both sad and kind. Right that moment, the expression in his eyes was very serious. James wondered how old Anso was. He’d implied he was over thirty, but he could have passed for younger.

“Generally,” Anso said, “we’re a peaceful people, but no one close to a throne can truly claim to be safe. If you’d remain within my apartments, that would be best for now.”

“For now,” James said.

“For now,” Anso repeated.

The king was definitely taking his measure with that steady stare. Interest coiled in James, centering on an organ lower than his brain. Pushing that aside as more than he could deal with right then, he watched Anso nod at Ty and leave.

“Come on,” Ty said to both of them. “I’ll show you how to work the digital viewer.”

The library was everything the name suggested: dark wood, dark leather, floor to ceiling shelves packed with old and new volumes. Someone was a fan of Ian Fleming. His books occupied an entire shelf. Ty settled James and Olivia on a long leather Chesterfield. He pushed a button to elevate a large flat screen from the center of an old carved table. Then he handed James the remote. The device very much resembled ones he was used to.

“If I know Anso,” Ty said—and assuredly he did, “he’ll have put the serious documentaries at the front of the queue. If that gets boring, skip ahead to the sexy ones.”

“Because that’s what you’d watch first?” James teased.

Ty didn’t laugh, and James recalled Ty calling himself the Great Whore of Oceana. Had his joke been too on the mark?

“Sex always matters,” Ty said. His face was difficult to read, his gaze holding James’s with an intensity that threatened to make him squirm. God, this man ignited his pilot light. “I’ll be in the room next door, if you need anything.”

“Ty,” Olivia said as he turned to go.

He faced her with a small but noticeable reluctance.

“Thank you for being so considerate of us,” she said.

This seemed to strike Ty as unexpected—perhaps as unexpected as Anso’s declaration of respect.

“Anso is my king,” Ty said hoarsely. “To be considerate of you shows the same to him.”

“Nonetheless, this situation is challenging for everyone.”

“For Anso as well. When his father, King Lobodon died last month—” Ty shut his mouth, perhaps thinking this too much information to give them. He had a harder time restraining his eyes. Now that he’d finally looked at James’s wife, he couldn’t seem to wrench his stare away. A blush stained his cheeks, and his lungs went in and out more quickly.

James’s brows went up as recognition struck. Ty desired Olivia. He wasn’t solely attracted to men, though clearly he wasn’t as comfortable interacting with women. A serious erection was even then beginning to strain the leather laces on his trousers.

Realizing this himself, Ty offered a jerky bow. “Forgive my inappropriate reaction, Your Majesty. You’re very beautiful.”

“I am . . . not insulted,” Olivia responded carefully.

Ty exited, leaving both of them dumbfounded.

“Well,” Olivia said shakily. “I wouldn’t have guessed I could strike him speechless.”

“Neither would I,” James admitted.

Recovering her humor, Olivia waggled her brows at him. “Jealous?”

He laughed and elbowed her. “Just for that, I’m not sharing the remote.”

It was good to joke with her, to know that however awkward their circumstances, neither of them was as freaked out as they could have been. James slung his arm around Olivia’s shoulders and flicked on the viewing screen.

Ty had been right about the documentaries coming first, though they certainly weren’t boring. Fascinated, James and Olivia both leaned forward to take them in.

In some ways, Oceana was like cities they were used to. Housing half a million souls, the underwater metropolis was home mainly to wereseals, though other races did live and visit here. One documentary examined why elves so often went into medicine. Another was an architectural tour of different areas of the city, touting their appeal for magic historians.

Plain old historians would have liked Oceana too. The older parts resembled Venice, side-by-side palazzos packed with baroque porthole windows that stretched along twisty streets. The difference was that here the canals had swallowed everything. The buildings and the graceful bridges contained the air. In the underwater streets, people swam or rode in black gondola-shaped submersibles. There was also a modern monorail, which presumably was more economical.

James couldn’t deny he really wanted a ride on it.

Once he and Olivia had finished blinking over the half-familiar, half-alien old city, they moved on to a news clip of a two-hundred-year-old market hall being saved from the wrecking ball. Its defender was a preservation society that was exactly the cardigan-wearing crew he’d expect . . . apart from being led by a dragon.

The society’s president was a very big lizard. She had intelligent dark red eyes and could stand upright, topping off at perhaps nine feet. Gills allowed her to breathe underwater, and a pirate-treasure-type medallion hung on a heavy gold chain around her neck. Her wings were both alarming and attractive, with gleaming brown-gold scales and claw finials. As she complimented King Lobodon (Anso’s father, he gathered) on sparing the historic hall, her Irish accent was raspy. James wasn’t ready to attribute that to her breathing fire. Some things he had to resist believing on principal.

By joint astounded consent, he and Olivia replayed the segment of the dragon with the brogue half a dozen times. James knew more about special effects than Olivia, but if this creature had been created by CGI, he couldn’t pick out how. Giving up on that for the moment, they clicked on Anso’s next selection.

This showed the perpetrator of a string of thefts at a shopping mall leading police on a high-speed chase. Both the thief and many of the cops zoomed through the city in seal form, the drama recorded by a quick-thinking aquatic news camera. A graphic at the end of the piece claimed the chase had sixty thousand views on something called WooTube. When the criminal was finally apprehended, he was herded gently by both shapes of police into a secure-looking metal cage.

Seeing this, James decided the loose-lipped kitchen server’s tongue probably wasn’t going to be cut out.

More respect for justice was evidenced by news coverage of an elected legislature, which he supposed balanced out Oceana’s hereditary king. From what James could tell, its members were as big blowhards as any New York politician. Though the attitude wasn’t democratic, he thought Anso seemed as fit to lead as them.

Most of all, Anso’s viewing selection made it increasingly difficult to doubt this place was for real. No one could fake all that footage. It would have cost millions. Nor was the talking dragon the last of the marvels in store for them. He and Olivia gasped like gunshots at their first sight of a faerie. Even in two dimensions, the sparkly-skinned man was breathtaking.

The fact that he was mending a giant rupture in a sea wall simply by chanting some foreign words was almost less of a shock than how beautiful he was.

“Wow,” Olivia said with a wonderment he seconded. “Where do you suppose his wings are?”

“Maybe he doesn’t have them.”

“Well, that would be disappointing. Maybe they’re folded up underneath his shirt. Like faerie-wing origami.”

James laughed, because Olivia’s logic sometimes took sidetrips into whimsy. Her hand rubbed his thigh and he covered it.

“Click on the one called Baby’s First Change,” she said.

James had been avoiding that title, but she was correct about them needing to see it. Given who they’d been kidnapped by, he doubted this piece had to do with diapers.

Baby’s First Change was also culled from WooTube. It opened with an ad for a pediatric clinic run by what else but pointy-eared elf doctors. Immediately after that, a home movie rolled. A boy about five years old was splashing around in an indoor pool that looked like it might have been filled with saltwater. James’s throat clenched, because the boy was all kinds of cute. Happy, healthy, with eyes so brightly green they could have been emeralds. He was acting the way kids do when they have their parents all to themselves. Watch this, Mommy! I’m going to touch the bottom. Look out, Daddy! I can splash you from here.

He swam with the fearlessness of a kid who’d been in the water since infancy, which he probably had.

His parents, who seemed to be filming him, made the approving noises fond parents do. Then a strange expression came over the boy’s face, a startled look that quickly turned to excitement.

“Oh Mommy!” he exclaimed, his eyes as big as saucers. “Watch me do this!”

A sparkly circle sprang into being on top of the boy’s head, like he was wearing a halo or magic crown. The sparks got bigger and brighter and then the ring rolled all the way down the boy’s body. As it did, everything it sparkled past turned into part of a seal. It didn’t take even thirty seconds for the boy to change fully.

As soon as he did, he started whizzing around the pool like an act at Sea World.

“Oh my God,” Olivia exclaimed, her hand pressed flat to her chest.

She seemed caught between delight and amazement, and James didn’t think those were the only emotions she was feeling. The kid had been cute as a little boy. In seal form . . . holy smokes, he was adorable. It was all James could do not to coo like Olivia was. Those big liquid eyes, that sleek silver fur, the plump little body that swam about so excitedly. They didn’t have to anthropomorphize this baby seal. There was so obviously a little kid’s soul in there: smacking its flippers to get attention, wriggling and racing through the water so it could shoot out like a cannon ball. The camera shook as its parents laughed at its antics.

James’s stomach sank. He totally wouldn’t blame his wife if she wanted one of those. He kind of wanted one himself. He revised his estimate of Anso as a basically decent but over-entitled guy.

King Anso was a good deal more than over-entitled. He was quite possibly the cleverest, and maybe the most devious person-with-power James had ever met.

“I didn’t know,” he said, when he found his voice again.

“Know what?” Olivia asked, wiping tears of laughter and maybe more from her eyes.

“I didn’t know you still wanted another kid that much.”

“Oh.” She paused in the midst of taking the remote from him, probably so she could watch the kid change again. Her expression turned serious. “I’d like one, James, but not having one doesn’t make me miserable. And it might have been for the best. Violet loved having all our attention. You notice she never pleaded for a sibling.”

“That was then. This is now.”

Olivia covered his mouth gently with her fingers. “Let’s not borrow trouble.”

He let her silence him, but his heart remained knotted. He wanted everything for her. To give her a child himself. To be a big enough man to let her have one with Anso. In that moment, he wanted so many things they were confusing him. Her eyes were soft as she stroked his cheeks.

“I love you,” she said. “Always and forever.”

That at least wasn’t confusing.

Chapter Eight

LORD Noth hadn’t liked being left out of the loop about Anso’s mating any more than Ellice. Unlike her, the head of his Council arguably had a right to be kept informed. Anso hoped to make up for this by not withholding pertinent details now.

To his relief, Lord Noth took the news that Anso’s queen came with a previous husband in his usual low-key way.

“I’ll keep a lid on it as long as I can,” he said. “For myself, I can’t say you were wrong to do this. The call of a blood bond is compelling. And the health of future Vitul generations certainly is important. It’s simply . . . tricky that Her Majesty is already married. I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but is there a chance you could make the husband your third? The commoners might find that more palatable. You know how they get about family values.”

Anso sat back in the deep leather chair Lord Noth had offered him. Their conversation was taking place in Lord Noth’s apartments, in his private study with the anti-eavesdropping spells turned on. The fact that Lord Noth’s suggestion hadn’t occurred to Anso momentarily shook him.

“I expect you were considering Lord Tykon for that position,” Lord Noth went on. “Otari wouldn’t be a bad choice. His bed-hopping aside, he’s intelligent enough to make any triad a useful third. I’m hearing good reports on how he’s led the guards this last month. I don’t mind telling you that surprised me. I didn’t think he’d be so responsible.”

“Ty’s always trustworthy when it counts.”

“And he’s your friend,” Lord Noth said sympathetically. “Which adds to the difficulty. I do think, however, that people would appreciate the fairness of giving the husband the third seat, regardless of whether he’s qualified to fill it. Do you know if the husband is open to intercourse with men?”

This was a more direct question than Anso expected. “I think . . . it’s too soon to discuss that.”

Lord Noth nodded. “I understand. And whether a whole triad sleeps together is rather a neutral factor in approval ratings. The liberals like it. The conservatives not so much. I just thought it might ease the unavoidable tugging of loyalties between you three. Unless the wife, uh, Her Majesty dislikes that idea.” Lord Noth rubbed the center of his forehead as if it hurt. “Well, not my business. I’m sure you’ll sort it out.” He shrugged his shoulders before resettling them. “The important thing is not to have to face the public before you can present a united front, even if you’re faking it somewhat to begin with.”

“Yes,” Anso agreed. “We could use some breathing room.”

“I’ll see that your schedule is cleared of all but necessities, as far as Council business is concerned. I can also recommend a good relationship counselor. After the second pup, my wife and I . . . had a bit of craziness all around.”

Noth pulled a humorous face that made Anso like him in a new way. He rose from his chair, sensing they’d covered what they needed to. “I’ll think about that,” he said.

They shook hands, and Lord Noth showed him to his front door. “I’m glad you’re on the throne,” he said with unexpected diffidence. “I worried about your age at first, but you’ve proven to be a steady goer.”

“I’m not sure how steady this state of affairs makes me look.”

“Some kings wouldn’t have the nerve to go after their true mate. They’d have the mages fix them up a ‘cure.’ I’ve always thought the path to the highest end lies in following your inner voice. Sometimes, living in the Pocket, we try to be too much like mundanes. We forget to have faith in the other half of our heritage.”

Lord Noth’s tone had gone gruff at speaking words he obviously believed deeply. Anso clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you for your support. I’ll be in touch if there are further developments.”

Lord Noth’s relatively painless acceptance of Anso’s news made him feel buoyant. He strode back through the corridors of the palace with a bounce in his step. Night had fallen in the upper world, a change reflected by the fading of the virtual sunlight outside the portholes. Other royals greeted him as he passed, nothing in their manner indicating Ellice had spread the tale of his hasty match. She would spread it of course, once she figured out how to leverage it to her best advantage—and how to disguise herself as the source.

He shook his head at that realization. Ty had been right about his cousenemy all along.

Engrossed in these thoughts, he was halfway to his chambers before he noticed his cock was sliding slowly from its protective sheath, as if anticipating where he was going. Naturally, noticing made the erection emerge faster. By the time he reached the royal apartments, the thing was painfully stiff and demanding it be seen to. Anso was all for that, if only it could have been as simple as locking himself and Olivia in a bedroom for a week or two.

The thought of shutting themselves away sent such a spasm through his penis he couldn’t fight back a groan. His queen had already made it clear she wouldn’t consent to that.

He found Olivia and James in the best of his eight guest rooms. They were sitting on the floor-level bed, their heads together over one of the tablet computers he equipped all the chambers with. They were both wearing Vitul robes, and mirrored each other in their slightly frustrated body language. He felt a pang to see them so in harmony. This was the amicable partnership he’d longed to find with a mate. Too bad for him it increased the challenge of wooing Olivia.

The couple looked up when he knocked on the doorframe. He wondered if they’d kept it open so they’d see him coming. He didn’t like the idea of being someone they were on guard against.

“Oh,” Olivia said. “We’ve been trying to get onto our internet. We need to send our daughter a message. So she won’t worry.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Anso said gravely.

“You mean you don’t want it to be,” James countered.

Anso met his cool gaze, unaccountably reminded of Ty in his more serious moments. “I wouldn’t want you taking impulsive actions we all might regret later.”

“Like contacting our government.”

“Do you think they’d believe you’d been kidnapped by wereseals?”

“If you’re so sure they won’t believe us, why not let us do as we please?”

Anso smiled. Olivia’s husband argued like a lawyer. He lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed. This caused his tightened trousers to pinch his cock, but he was next to Olivia, and she smelled scrumptious, so it was worth it. “I’m responsible for the safety of a lot of people. Mostly sure isn’t sure enough.”

He was aware of—not to mention gratified by—Olivia’s gaze darting to and then away from his trouser bulge.

“We only want to reach our daughter,” she said, as reasonable as James had been. “You could type the message for us. Make sure we don’t say anything you don’t like.”

Anso considered this even as he took in the hectic color that had risen into her cheeks. He doubted the cause was just seeing his erection. The relief their last coupling had provided was nearing its expiration. On top of that, being this close sent their hormones into overdrive. He could scent her arousal rising, though she seemed to be trying to conceal its effect, no doubt to spare her husband’s feelings.

Her consideration pleased him. Her love for James might be a thorn in his side, but he thought better of her for protecting him. Wives ought to be loyal to their spouses.

“All right,” he said, conscious of the irony of his musings. “Tell me what you’d like to say.”

He held out his hand, and she passed him the mini-computer. In addition to a password, accessing the outnet required his eyeprint, which the tablet had a special scanner for. James and Olivia debated what to say for a minute, then traded off dictating lines to him. Their email described a fictitious trip to Manhattan to see a Broadway show, an apology for not returning to Forster Media as soon as planned, and a promise to touch base once they stopped having so much fun. They sounded like they were close to their daughter, and that they trusted her—within limits—to take care of herself and their business.

Anso filed all this away. He didn’t forget to log off the outnet before returning the tablet to Olivia.

“Satisfied?” he said.

Admittedly, his choice of words was loaded. He was a bit surprised that both members of the couple blushed. He wondered if it would be too crass to suggest that Ty satisfy the husband while he saw to his growing yen for the wife. He knew he hadn’t imagined the chemistry between James and his friend.

As if her sexual parts were itching too much to hide, Olivia wriggled on the mattress beside him. Her nipples pushed out the silk robe she wore, adding new appeal to the embroidered electrum eels. “About you and I being together . . .” she said.

Anso lifted his brows at her. Her pretty face was prim and embarrassed at the same time. And aroused of course, though he wasn’t holding his breath for that to rule her actions. He braced for what she’d say next.

“James and I decided we’re not going to separate. If you want to have sex with me, he stays too.”

This wasn’t a complete surprise. Anso glanced at James. His flush was fainter than Olivia’s, but it was there.

When Anso looked back at Olivia, she was scarlet. “I know you’re not shy about other men seeing you naked.”

“That’s true,” he conceded, trying to understand what she was really saying, and why her husband was going along. “Because royals are highly fertile, we don’t sleep with females until we take a mate. We do have strong libidos, and doing without intercourse isn’t feasible. Well, we could masturbate a lot, but wereseals are social creatures. We like connecting physically with others. Traditionally, our outlet of choice is were males.”

“And Ty is your choice.”

Was this a question? “He’s been my most frequent partner, yes. Our arrangement isn’t exclusive.” Olivia’s hands were curled on her thighs. Anso covered one gently, pleased by how warm it was—and that she didn’t pull away.

“Olivia,” he said carefully. “Would you enjoy it if I brought your husband pleasure? It’s you my body craves—needs, if it comes to that—but if you both wish this, I wouldn’t be averse.”

“Would you enjoy it?” she asked.

She seemed to care about his answer. “I would,” he said, a tiny bit surprised this was true. He’d always assumed his interest in men would ebb or even disappear when he found a mate. At the moment, that didn’t seem to be the case. James’s presence added another layer to his desire. “I . . . I confess I find your husband attractive.” Now he was blushing, which he didn’t much like at all. He straightened his shoulders. “I have experience pleasing men. I’m told my bed skills are competent.”

James snorted. “You’re told they’re competent.”

“Well, I was a prince, and now I’m a king. It’s possible my partners were flattering me.”

“What does Ty say about your skills?” James’s voice was rough. Anso searched his eyes, but couldn’t read them. James was right about Ty being unlikely to lie, suggesting he was a fair judge of character.

“Ty says I give the best head he’s ever had.” Said aloud, the words sounded obnoxious, but James didn’t snort this time.

“Ty was no slouch himself,” he observed.

Is that what the pair had done when they’d swum off on their own? Why did James want him to know this? Was it tit for tat? Anso slept with his wife, so James bragged about getting head from the king’s lover? Anso’s groin grew heavier, images of Ty going down on James flashing through his mind. What Ty lacked in technique, he made up for in interest. Anso remembered how James had looked sleeping naked on the beach: lean and lanky and long. He had the same velvety skin Olivia did, skin that begged for caressing. His human-style body hair made him seem extra masculine. At the time, Anso hadn’t realized he noticed, but his cock had been substantial.

“Have you ever been fucked?” he blurted. At the question, Olivia’s hand touched her husband’s thigh. Perversely, the little gesture made his cock throb harder.

James shook his head. “I’ve daydreamed about it now and then, but Ty sucking me off was the farthest I’ve gone with a man. I didn’t want to stray. Olivia always kept me satisfied.”

Anso’s breath was coming almost too fast to speak. What would it be like to initiate a man the way Ty had initiated him? Good, he thought. Maybe better than he was prepared for.

Especially if Olivia was watching.

Lust slammed through him at that idea.

“I have to take her first,” he rasped. “Before I see to you. Otherwise, I won’t be able to think straight.” He turned to Olivia. “I’m happy to please you by pleasing your husband, but I promise I’m not exaggerating about needing you right now.”

She shuddered and—as if she and her husband shared a few nerves in common—a second later, James did too.

For one incredible thrumming moment, he felt like they both belonged to him. Olivia found her voice.

“I’m not inclined to argue,” she said faintly.

~

When Anso hooked one arm behind her neck and pulled her to her knees to kiss her, Olivia couldn’t keep a moan inside. God, she wanted him. Her body had been on simmer since before he returned, as if sex with him truly was a drug she’d become addicted to. The push and pull of his tongue, the hunger he was clearly trying to keep a handle on, turned her sex to sun-warmed honey. Her fists came to press his sides, her hands not quite ready to clutch him.

He didn’t seem satisfied with her half response. Growling, he shoved the robe she wore down her shoulder, baring one breast to his possessive palm and fingers. The way he squeezed her was something else, like she really did belong to him. She moaned at how good it felt, then tensed. James was watching. It didn’t feel right to let go in front of him.

But Anso wasn’t the only one who disapproved of her holding back. “Don’t fight it,” James said hoarsely. “I want to see what he does to you.”

Did he, though? Did he understand how intense this was, how ready her body was to acknowledge Anso’s claims? She groaned as James slid his hand under her robe too, where its gap gave access to her inner thighs. Okay, maybe James had a few claims too. His touch was gentler than Anso’s, perhaps because Anso was used to fondling men. Gentle or not, James knew exactly how to get to her. He found her pussy and massaged his fingers up and down her slippery folds, rubbing either side of her clitoris.

She squirmed, unable to stop herself, at the multi-layered jolts of sensation that shot through her. Her clit felt like it had doubled in size.

To her dismay, Anso wrenched his mouth from hers. “Help me,” he said to James. “I want her stretched across the mattress.”

That was it for her. The idea that James was going to help Anso fuck her didn’t just slam down her buttons, it invented all new ones. She thrashed and made helpless sounds as they eased her together onto her back, each one taking charge of a different writhing limb. They made sure she wasn’t hurt, but they didn’t let her stop them from arranging her as they liked.

James freed her arms from the silky robe, leaving her naked and the men dressed. Her legs were sprawled, her sex exposed in glistening detail. The ache in her pussy was painful.

“I’ve got her wrists,” James said, holding them stretched securely above her head.

This wasn’t some endear-yourself-to-your-captor strategy. Olivia was pretty sure James got a vicarious charge from this. She saw Anso’s gaze go to him. Whatever he found in her husband’s face seemed to make him recalculate his plans. Not in a bad way either. His tongue came out briefly to wet his lips.

“Okay,” he said, his hands going to the stretched laces at the front of his buckskin pants. “I don’t have the patience to undress. I’m just going to open these.”

Opening them turned out to be a production. His erection had swelled so big the knots must have tightened. Olivia fought to keep her demand that he hurry unspoken. She couldn’t remember ever being this desperate to have sex. Her hips were arching off the mattress, her wrists tugging uncontrollably at James’s hands. Not that he minded. He was panting like an old-style steam train.

“I know,” Anso said in response to her swallowed moan. He set his shoulders, dug his fingers under the ties, then took a deep breath and pulled.

The laces snapped liked they’d been thread instead of leather. He used the same determination to pop the buttons on his white flowing shirt.

“Wow,” James said, sparing Olivia the need to. “I guess you weres are stronger than normal folk.”

“Somewhat,” Anso said tightly, occupied in digging his swollen cock from the remains of its confinement. “Pound for pound . . . seals are stronger than human beings.” He groaned as he won his erection free, and again when he stroked and squeezed it from base to crest with both hands. His eyes closed with pleasure, like he was so hard up he needed soothing right away.

“God,” Olivia said, because she wanted to do that.

“Sorry,” he said, as if he had something to be embarrassed for, as if her tone hadn’t been utterly envious. “I didn’t realize I’d like you both being here this much. I’m more excited than I was prepared for.”

James made the same small sound he had for Ty earlier.

“You okay?” Anso asked him. “I promise I’ll . . . do whatever I can to make this up to you.”

James swallowed noisily. “I’m okay. I, uh, I guess this is more exciting than I expected too. I’m afraid your fancy robe is gonna need some dry cleaning.”

Anso gave James a look Olivia had only seen a man give a woman. It was cross between a smile and a warning. It dipped to James’s crotch, where he probably had a wet spot, then rose again to his face. I’ll get to you later was what the expression said. It turned her on insanely, though it was gone in a heartbeat. Anso dropped his eyes to hers then, their blue fire flaring for her alone.

That was a turn on she might never recover from.

He didn’t ask her if she was ready. The answer was all too obvious. He planted his elbows beside her, nudged her legs wider with his own, and pushed his tip straight between her folds like the thing had radar. The hot wet touch, so close to where she wanted it, drew a longing sound from her. Anso’s smile curved up.

“Now,” he said. “Why don’t we see if I can do this better when I’m not weightless?”

He’d done it fine when he was, but apparently practice was good for everyone. Her knees twitched up as he pushed the head past her entrance, triggering a reflex she simply couldn’t control. Her body wanted his, and it didn’t care who saw.

“Oh God,” she moaned. He was halfway in and still pushing. He was so long and thick, and she needed him exactly where he was. She crooked one leg around his hip, leaving her other foot on the bed so she could push up him.

Between the two of them, they made short work of getting him inside. Anso shuddered as he sank home, the tip of him nudging at her womb. Olivia undulated, wishing she had hands inside her pussy. She settled for tightening her sheath on him.

Anso must have liked that. He cursed and rubbed his face from side to side in her red wavy hair. James knees bracketed her head. Olivia suspected he enjoyed the motion too.

“Please,” Anso whispered, his hips writhing deeper into her. “Please let go of her wrists. When we’re in heat, we get touch-hunger.”

James let go. Freed, Olivia laid both hands on Anso’s back, underneath the looseness of his open shirt. The tingle that ran from him into her palms was powerful, as if new floods of hormones were releasing from this contact. Anso made a crooning sound that seemed more seal than man. It had an innocence, a purity of pleasure most humans were too self-conscious for. Wanting to hear it again, she ran her hands along him.

He arched his spine like he couldn’t not, his hands feathering along her shoulders. His upper body had drawn back slightly, and his blue eyes glowed into hers. “Your skin is velvet,” he said huskily. “It makes my bones hum when I touch you.”

She gasped, because he’d pulled his hot thick shaft back inside of her. She didn’t have the breath to tell him his skin was satin.

“My cock likes touching you too,” he said. He pushed it in, and Olivia went straight to heaven, a heaven she got to stay in when he started repeating the motion. Maybe he was taking a cue from James. His strokes were gentle but deep. They felt like he was trying to learn her from the inside, pressing harder first one way and then another, searching out her shape and her responses. She longed for him to go faster, and probably he did too. The sheer deliciousness of what he was doing kept her from saying so.

“Mmm,” he moaned, his face sinking to her hair again. His right hand slid down her side to her left butt cheek, where her bent leg was pushing her up him. His hand squeezed under her, his eyes drifting shut with pleasure as he stretched his fingers across her.

“Women are so soft,” he marveled. “I could spend all day just nuzzling your ass and breasts.”

She laughed, because she was proud of how firm she was in both those places. Everything was relative, she guessed.

“Is that wrong to say?” he asked, half opening his bliss-glazed blue eyes.

“No.” She touched his flushed face shyly. “I like how hard you are compared to me.”

Her saying so sent a flicker of movement through his cock. “Maybe I could go a little faster?” he suggested, his eyes gone dark despite the banked glow in them.

“I wouldn’t mind.” She bit her lip, then decided what the hell. “If you could make me come soon and hard, I might be calm enough to let you play with James for a while.”

James sucked in a breath above her.

“You, then him,” Anso confirmed, his eyes firing brighter as they held hers.

“And then maybe me again? If that wouldn’t be too greedy?”

Anso grinned. “That doesn’t sound greedy. Most were males have more than one go in them.”

“James does too,” Olivia confided. “Once you get his kinks wound up.”

When Anso smiled at her, the fondness in his eyes reminded her of when she first woke to him carrying her on the beach: how he’d looked like he adored her. This time she thought more than pheromones might be behind his expression. Was she someone he could have liked if they’d met some other way? If she was, was it wrong of her to be pleased by that? Her heart didn’t think so. Her heart wanted to adore him back.

“I’ll do my best to keep winding them,” he said drolly.

She hoped he meant it. However this bizarre situation ended, she wanted tonight to be a good memory for all of them. Anso lifted his brows at her. She understood he was asking if he could start going faster now. She nodded. He inhaled, his big swimmer’s chest expanding, and then he went at her full out. There was no warm up, just him plunging straight into the deep end. In and out he pumped, fast, hard, his rigid organ slicked by her wetness. He fucked her like she imagined men fucked men and—God—it felt wonderful.

With a groan of pleasure, Olivia gave up on hiding anything.

~

James wouldn’t have thought watching Olivia go crazy for someone else would be this exciting. Hell, if he were honest, watching the king go crazy was exciting too. Anso’s body was a gladiator’s, and it acted like he hadn’t had sex in years. His thrusts were so wild, so impassioned they almost pulled him out of Olivia.

James suspected his size and length were what kept that from happening.

Anso’s cock was titanic, nor did it seem to have finished hardening. Each time he drew the shaft from Olivia, it curved upward more, until James thought the tip might be pointing up. James wanted to touch it all over, to see if Anso’s veins were as distended as they looked. Maybe the angle skewed his impressions, but his balls looked different from James’s. They were full but their pouch seemed snugger. Maybe James would like giving head to a man. He was sure the acts were different, but he’d always gotten off on going down on Olivia. Trading off power in bed was one of his favorite things.

Anso grunted, drawing James’s attention farther up his sweaty heaving body. The king had shifted his left hand onto Olivia’s breast, his weight balanced on his elbow and his knees. That was always the dilemma for a man on top: how to touch everything you wanted and still get traction for your thrusts.

James braced Olivia’s shoulders to help prevent Anso’s vigor from shoving her away.

Both the pair made a swallowed sound at the sudden strengthening of impact.

“Yes,” Olivia gasped, then bit her lip and dug her fingertips into Anso’s bunching back muscles.

James recognized the signs of how close she was to coming. “Faster,” he said to Anso. “Rub your tip against her harder on the side where your cock curves up.”

The king jerked in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate to follow the advice. Evidently, he liked the new angle too.

“Oh God,” he said, his pelvis churning more forcefully.

James’s penis tightened, sympathizing with Anso’s responses. He could only imagine how it felt to have your first woman when you were old enough not to screw it up. Anso’s face looked like he hadn’t gotten over the miracle, like everything he felt was a couple times too intense.

“Fuck,” the king growled, yanking his hand from beneath Olivia’s bottom. With more desperation than delicacy, he mashed his thumb across the base of her clit, where rubbing her wouldn’t interfere with his crazily pumping thrusts.

Luckily, Olivia didn’t need delicate. She cried out just as Anso’s upper body reared back and arched. She was coming, and he was slamming through her contractions with a series of guttural grunts. Olivia’s hands shifted to his hips, mutely urging him to join her in the climax. Anso gasped, his face twisting with ecstasy as his body succumbed.

Some instinct neither could control must have had them in its grip. They both held Anso as far into her as he could go, seemingly using all their strength. James couldn’t even want them to stop, despite Anso pouring so much seed into his wife as they strained together that it overflowed her pussy. The moment was too primal, and part of him wanted Olivia pregnant. Why shouldn’t she mother a king’s children? She was a queen to him.

Jeesh, he thought, his body trembling with its own manic responses. I really have lost my mind.

Anso and Olivia sighed in harmony as their mammoth orgasms eased. Murmuring with pleasure, Anso bent to kiss Olivia’s neglected breast, which inspired her to rub her cheek in his gold-brown hair. Her tenderness forced James to acknowledge that his wife liked this man. Olivia wasn’t good at lying with her body. With her mouth sometimes, out of politeness, but physically she was a truth teller. It wasn’t hard to tell if she was angry or afraid or aroused. When she loved, that too was obvious.

James knew in his heart that she could come to love Anso.

He waited for this to decimate him, but all he experienced was a twinge—not much worse than when he’d observed the closeness between Ty and the king. That was unnerving, but what could he do? Olivia and the king were blazing hot together—like the best cast, most authentic porno he’d never seen. A guy would have to be dead not to feel something watching them.

He hoped watching Anso and him together turned Olivia on half as much.

James shivered, because Anso chose then to lift his head and look at him. James’s cock was pounding right in his field of vision, leaking pre-cum and making confessions James didn’t have the option of concealing. Anso smiled slowly and heatedly.

This didn’t calm James’s the slightest bit.

Chapter Nine

NO one saw Ty leave the royal apartments after Anso returned. Certainly, Ty didn’t announce his departure. Slipping out unnoticed might be his best chance to avoid being pimped out to James Forster.

Ty hadn’t missed the hopeful glances Anso had been turning between them. If only the Whore of Oceana could snare Olivia’s husband in his net, all knots would unravel! Olivia and the king could paddle along together in mated bliss, and the scandal of her previous marriage would magically dissolve. All would be well . . . as long as Ty didn’t forget what he was good for.

If Anso weren’t already considering making James his third, Ty would eat clam shells.

He frowned at the dead end of the corridor he’d strode down in his anger. He was in a section of the palace that housed service personnel. The halls were dark and narrow, the plain stone tiling worn down by many feet. A concrete bench outfitted the alcove at the hall’s termination, allowing for gazing out a murky but large porthole. No garden enlivened the view outside, just the uncultivated sea.

Ty accepted the bench’s mute invitation to sit down.

He’d been here once before when he was a boy, dragged along by his mother. She’d come to rant at a low level mage. The fellow’s failure to correctly animate an ice sculpture for a party had ruined—so she’d claimed—her latest attempt at becoming palace society’s doyenne.

Ty traced his finger across the glass as the memory of her shrill screams returned to him. His father had drunk his way through that party, providing rather a greater embarrassment than an ice swan that failed to dance. Ty’s mother hadn’t yelled at him. Far easier to abuse someone who depended on you for his livelihood. And wasn’t it funny the things one remembered years afterwards?

The mage had bowed to Sabra Otari even as she shrieked her insults, his slender body bobbing over and over. Work visas could be strict for the magical rank and file. Ty guessed he hadn’t wanted to be sent back to Faerie.

But Ty was avoiding what really bothered him with this detour down memory lane. He thought he’d resigned himself to not being the third in any triad Anso formed. If Anso had married Ellice, Ty would have been shoved aside in every possible way, as soon as she figured out how to do it without looking malicious. Ty understood his promiscuity might create political awkwardness. He simply wanted Anso to acknowledge, just once, that Ty had committed himself to him. Ty’s erotic nature was what it was, but he’d saved the foremost place in his heart and bed for his closest friend.

He snorted softly, amused by his self-deception. Anso admitting “just once” that Ty could be counted on would never satisfy him. When it came to Anso, just once was never enough.

Swinging sideways, he drew his comfortably booted feet up onto the bench, his shoulders and toes now braced by both walls of the alcove. It was time to get real, before he returned to Anso and his involuntary guests. Ty admitted he liked James Forster. The man was hotter than a volcanic vent: tall, dark and ruggedly handsome. He seemed smart and not lacking in passion. For a man of Ty’s jaded tastes, his humanity added to his appeal. Introducing him to more man-on-man adventures would hardly be a hardship. No neophyte had ever popped Ty’s cork like Anso, but James came close. Indoctrinating virgins was a favorite game of his. James being older made him feel less guilty for being into it.

A quiet sigh gusted from him, impossible to hold in. Ty knew he liked sex with men more than he was supposed to. The thought of fucking women also drove him crazy, but who knew if the reality would live up to his imaginings? For that matter, who knew if any noble female would consent to marry an Otari? For now, he enjoyed the pleasures he had access to. He liked that James had a similar edge to Anso, as if he might take charge if given an opening. Ty never knew for sure what would happen in Anso’s arms, and that made taking the lead exciting.

He shifted on the bench as his cock stirred restlessly in its sheath. He wasn’t hard, just close to going there. He’d been childish to storm out of Anso’s rooms. He could have been fucking James right then. Or teaching James how to fuck him back.

His regrets were cut short when two ruby-red glowing eyes drew his focus to the porthole. A mini sea dragon was outside, its tiny clawed front paws and nose pressed curiously to the glass. Its hide was jet black with gold markings, its wings half open as it hung there. Its long black tail curled like a baby fern.

“Hey, little guy,” Ty crooned, instantly forgetting his troubles. From nose to tail the dragon was no longer than his forearm. Unlike full size dragons, this species didn’t speak. They were intelligent, though, possibly as intelligent as dolphins. Apart from their famous roosting colony at St. Mark’s Basilica, they weren’t a common sight. The priests at the basilica fed them the shrimp they liked, and they interacted—if they cared to—with Oceana’s other residents there. Their shyness and the way their mouths looked like they were smiling made Oceanans adore them more.

“I wish I had a treat for you,” Ty murmured, though he couldn’t have pushed it through the porthole.

He flattened his palm against it, slowing his breathing and telling his mood to calm. As he succeeded, his life energy swelled brighter. That part of him could radiate through the barrier. Feeling it, the sea dragon chirped and rubbed its shoulder against the glass, like a dog rolling in a smell it wanted to take home.

Ty laughed, and it wriggled around some more. Apparently, some beings couldn’t get enough of him.

After a few more wiggles, the sea dragon stiffened, staring intently over Ty’s shoulder with its bright ruby eyes. A second later, it darted away so quickly the motion was just a small black streak.

Ty twisted around to see what had startled it.

His stomach couldn’t have sunk harder. A nearby door was opening in the corridor, and Ellice stepped out of it. She wasn’t any happier to see him.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

He might have asked her the same, but the fancy perfume vial in her hand told its own story. He’d always suspected she had her fragrances spelled. They smelled too good and lasted too well to be natural. Luckily, love philters were against the law. Using them on a king was a jailable offense.

He answered her question with a shrug. Sometimes Ellice went away if he didn’t spar with her.

This wasn’t going to be one of those occasions. She came closer, her gaze sliding over him where he sat, her mouth curving up smugly. She stopped a few feet away. “Kicked you out already, I see. I guess your charms don’t hold up next to a real woman’s.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t explain why your nipples always harden when my charms get close to you.”

“Hah,” she said, though they were hardening even then. A blush she probably hated spread across her precarious decollete. She looked ready to pop out of her corset-style red silk bodice. The trousers she’d paired with it were tight black leather—not her usual style. Ellice favored queenly gowns, her subtle way of telling Anso she was up for the role. Privately, Ty admitted she looked hot.

“Oh my God,” he said, realization hitting him. Her flush was due to more than him. “You just fucked someone. You screwed the mage who spelled your cheater’s perfume. I’ll bet he gave you a discount. Anso’s pure-as-snow cousin is a cheapskate and an interspecies lay.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ellice sniffed. “Just because you spread your legs for anything with a penis doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

Enjoying this, Ty pushed to his feet and prowled around her. “I can smell it on you. Your real smell, not the one he tricked up. Used a rubber, I gather, or I’d scent more semen. I bet you love it that a faerie can’t knock you up as easily as a seal. Faeries are hung, aren’t they, Ellice? And they’ve got plenty o’ carnal energy.”

Ellice shoved him when he dropped his nose closer. “You would drag everyone down to your level.”

If she hadn’t denied it, he’d have liked her better for having needs like a real person. Because she did deny it, he drew back and smiled coolly. Ellice was tall, but not as tall as him. She seemed to resent having to glare up at him.

“I don’t know who you remind me of more,” she huffed. “Your drunken self-indulgent daddy or your pathetic social-climbing mum. All you Otaris belong in the gutter. Fortunately, I’ve no doubt you at least will topple in there soon.”

There were plenty of ripostes he could have made, home truths about social climbing Ellice was conveniently ignoring. Right that moment, he didn’t have the energy. Ellice was careful to keep this side of herself hidden from Anso, but Ty knew from experience she wouldn’t stop jabbing at him until she’d drawn blood. Since her last words tonight were arguably on target, Ty decided to let them stand.

Sure enough, she nodded in satisfaction and stalked off down the corridor.

~

Anso’s queen was watching her king consider her husband’s cock. Anso saw her do it from the corner of his eye. Even if he hadn’t seen it, he’d have heard her breathing hasten. Gratification over this joined the other pleasures he was feeling. Anso’s body was loose and warm from its recent climax—not sated; that would take more effort, but relaxed enough to give him an unusual sense of well being.

Sometimes Anso was nervous with new partners. The people who’d propositioned him expected things of a future king, and they weren’t always confident themselves. As a result, Anso’s sexual history wasn’t substantial. Ty mostly, and five or six or others. How comfortable he felt with James and Olivia surprised him. Though they had their own relationship, he didn’t feel excluded. Against all logic, what he felt with them was safe.

That was surely an illusion, unless you were talking physically. Neither seemed likely to hurt him that way, despite their obvious wish that he hadn’t abducted them. Anso realized he was looking forward to introducing James to his most highly praised bed skill.

If he wasn’t volunteering to release them, the least he could do was sweeten their captivity.

“Why don’t you hold him for me?” he suggested to Olivia.

She’d been sprawled on the covers, not so surreptitiously eyeing him. At this, she scrambled up and grinned endearingly. “Oh yes. James likes it when I restrain him.”

James snorted, but didn’t seem annoyed.

“Ty’s fond of spanking,” Anso confided, his heart secretly aching at her entrusting him with her spouse’s preferences.

“No,” Olivia responded, the light in her eyes intrigued. “Your friend seems so dominant.”

She blushed a moment later, and didn’t that startle him a bit? Was Olivia attracted to Ty as well? His downstairs friend didn’t mind. It hadn’t relaxed enough to retract after blasting off in her. At her words, it twitched and began to restiffen. Ty had never had a woman. Would he want Olivia? Would Anso enjoy watching him take her as much as James seemed to? His balls joined the affirmative chorus by growing fuller and pulsing.

O-kay, he thought. This was getting complicated. Strictly speaking, his desires should have been targeting Olivia alone. That’s what mating hormones were for. He needed to remember fantasies weren’t necessarily meant to be lived out.

Unaware of his thoughts, Olivia waved for James to lie back. She scooted around to sit behind his shoulders.

“Hands,” she said, and he gave them to her.

Her smile for Anso turned his blood molten.

“Wait,” James said. His voice was hoarse enough to draw both their attention. He looked at Anso, his hazel eyes beautiful. They were also worried, like he wanted to ask a favor he wasn’t sure was okay. “I’d like to touch you. Before. If you wouldn’t mind.”

Anso could have laughed at how polite he was. Sensing this wouldn’t be strategic, he restrained himself. “Spread you legs wider apart,” he said.

His tone of command elicited compliance and the erotic shiver he’d hoped for. James spread his strong hair-fuzzed legs like someone who enjoyed submission. Anso moved on his knees into the new space. Though the blue Vitul robe still covered James’s groin, his erection made an impressive tent in the silk. The wet spot over the bouncing crest had grown. Anso’s mouth watered at the idea of tasting him.

“Release his hands,” he said to Olivia.

She released them. James’s hold came without hesitation to Anso’s cock and balls, like he’d been longing to touch them. One hand surrounded each, the hand on his shaft gripping and pulling, the one on his testicles supplying a finger rippling massage. Anso’s breath rushed out of him with pleasure—and a bit of surprise.

“I’ve done this before,” James confessed. “When I was in high school. A friend and I used to trade hand jobs.”

“You—” A grunt of enjoyment cut off his words. “You got good at it.”

“Isn’t his skin silky?” Olivia asked her husband. “You’d think wereseals moisturized their penises or something.”

“Mm,” James agreed. “It makes me wish my hands were smoother.”

The two of them talking around him was weird—especially since Anso knew why his sexual skin was smooth. The conversation was also strangely arousing. He’d never had two people so focused on him in bed.

Deciding feeling was easier than thinking, he let his hips roll forward, encouraging James to continue. His touch was gentler than he was used to but very deft. Anso’s balls were soon whimpering at James’s well-targeted squeezes. His hands were big, his fingers long enough to reach back and tease his perineum. Anso’s neck rolled when he did that. God, his hands were golden. Coupled with the care he took, the slight roughness of his palms was perfect. The only thing that could have made the sensations better was if Olivia’s mouth had been on his tip, her pink tongue lapping over the little hole. Anso wouldn’t have minded kissing Ty at the same time. He loved sucking his friend’s tongue.

Anso groaned with longing, and his eyes flew open. What was the matter with him? Could he be that greedy?

He was glad the others couldn’t read his mind. James’s caresses combed through his pubic fur, bringing him back into the moment.

“You’re as soft as a cat,” James marveled. His fingertips skimmed around Anso’s base, almost discovering the seam where his seal sheath clung to his root. Anso thought a tour of those anatomical differences was better left for another night. He covered James’s hands with his own, lightly stroking their backs and at the same time guiding them away.

“My pubic thatch is fur,” he said. “Wereseals don’t have the same body hair as humans.”

James ruffled it backwards, making him shiver. “Does our hair seem coarse to you?”

Anso shook his head. Strengthening tingles ran up his cock as James continued to stroke his sexual pelt the wrong way. “Some wereseals wouldn’t like it, but it appeals to me.”

“It’s exotic,” James said.

“Yes,” Anso agreed. His cock had begun to well with excitement, so he stilled James’s hands. If he got too wound up, he’d start zeroing in on Olivia again. That might be less confusing but not ideal. He was hoping to keep both of this pair happy. “Why don’t I concentrate on you for now?”

“You don’t have to,” James said. “I mean, I’ve already experienced getting head from a guy.”

“And having experienced it, you’re not interested anymore?”

Olivia laughed at his drollery, smiling at him even as her hands squeezed her husband’s shoulders affectionately. A warmth spread through Anso that he couldn’t put a name to. He only knew it felt good to be on the same page with her. She gave her husband’s dark bangs a tug. “Let the king show off, James. I have a feeling you won’t be bored.”

She stretched down her husband to untie his robe. Her dangling breasts were gorgeous: flushed, full, with pretty dark pink nipples. Their current pointy state distracted the men from the otherwise simple process of getting James naked. She laughed when she noticed what had flummoxed them.

“Men,” she teased, kneeling back and gathering up James’s hands. “Go on then, Your Majesty. Show us what you can do.”

Anso wasn’t intimidated. With a grin for them both, he backed up on his knees, planted his hands on James’s thighs to control them, and bent forward for his prize.

Odd chills tingled through his spine at his first taste of Olivia’s husband. James’s cock was different from a wereseal’s, very smooth but with an underlying impression of toughness. Could Anso play with him harder? Would he perhaps last longer? Those possibilities made his own cock tighten. But better not to experiment too much. Tried and true was likely his best approach.

“Mmm,” James hummed at the gentle pressure he began with. His hips rolled from side to side, maybe over of the pleasurable stimulation and maybe because Anso wasn’t letting him move freely. When Anso looked up James’s body, he saw Olivia manacling his wrists. If James got off on restraint the way it appeared he did, this could get interesting.

“Oh God,” James said as Anso swallowed him deeper.

The key to giving good head was relaxation and attention to detail. Nice wet tongue work was a plus, along with controlling your partner. Strength was helpful but not necessary, because one could always add one’s hands. Patience, stamina, and a fondness for driving other people to painful states of desire definitely didn’t hurt. Anso used all those assets on James.

Then he brought out his ability to deep throat.

“Jeez,” James moaned, his spine arching off the bed as Anso swallowed gently against his tip.

Pleased by this reaction, he drew up and swirled his tongue around the head, giving James and himself a moment to recover. The saltiness of near ejaculation flavored his mouth, and he wondered if James could take much more play. He seemed to want to. His thigh muscles were knotted like steel cables.

James panted hard before he spoke. “Can you do that again?” he asked, his cock trembling on Anso’s lips. “Maybe after . . . Olivia helps me sit up so I can watch.”

Olivia laughed as Anso backed off. He guessed she was used to men and their fondness for visuals. With James’s rugged body propped back on hers, her hands slid soothingly up and down his chest, taking care to cross his sharp red nipples with every pass. Evidently, James liked her closeness as much as he’d liked Anso sucking him. By the time he was situated, the little slit in his penis was seeping more quickly. Anso looked at it, then up at the man it belonged to.

“You’re going to come in my mouth,” he said. “I’m going to suck you and suck you until you can’t hold back. My queen is going to watch, and you’re going to feel her heart pounding in her breasts. You’re going to know how excited she is by your pleasure.”

“Jeez,” James breathed, and Anso smiled at him.

This time when he lowered his head, he knew his work would soon be over.

~

Ty walked in on quite a scene. Everything considered, it wasn’t surprising that no one looked up at him.

“Don’t stop,” James Forster was moaning, his tight hips straining upward as the king sank on him. “Oh my God. Your tongue . . .”

His wife was hugging his lean torso, her forearms providing an anchor for his gripping hands. Her legs hugged him too, and they were amazing: long, smooth, their muscles taut with tension over her husband’s struggle not to come. The dark red waves of her hair spilled across her husband’s shoulder, adding to the visual drama. Ty envied her the front row seat for watching Anso in action.

To judge by the way James’s cock disappeared, Anso was deep-throating him.

James moaned as if this killed him. He began reaching for Anso’s head.

“Don’t,” his wife said firmly. “Leave your hands where they are.”

“Fuck,” he moaned, her order seeming not to help him back off from orgasm. Anso was bearing down on him with his weight, but the tightening of James’s buttocks pushed him higher into his mouth. Clearly overcome with pleasure, he arched his neck back over his wife’s shoulder. “Oh God, that feels good.”

Anso cupped his ball sac and sucked him harder. Then all that came from the Outsider’s throat was sound.

Groans of climax were different in air than water. James’s rang loud and clear, its roughness scraping every one of Ty’s sexual nerves. He knew how it felt to come like that for Anso, to have your brain swallowed up in bliss as Anso swallowed you. Swallow Anso did. James’s hips shook with pulses of ejaculation, his groans interspersed with gasps. This went on for a while.

Once he judged the peak was ebbing, Ty stepped through the guest room door. His tone was as dry as he could make it. “I guess no one missed me while I was gone.”

Anso jerked back from his final suck, pulling a mournful sound from James. The king of all the wereseals dragged his forearm across his talented mouth.

“Ty,” he said, his voice understandably hoarse. He had just taken a load of semen against his vocal chords. Ty took a certain small-minded satisfaction in how dismayed he looked.

Telling himself he wasn’t sorry, he crossed his arms and smirked. “I see I was wrong to worry the husband would be fobbed off on me.”

“Ty.” James speaking up took Ty by surprise. His eyes weren’t insulted by his talk of fobbing. His expression held something more dangerous: it held compassion.

That was more than a proud man like Ty could stand.

“No,” Anso said as Ty spun on his heel to leave. He was at Ty’s side in three strides, his hand gentle on Ty’s arm. His kindness was bitter comfort, a cruel reminder of what Ty seemed destined to lose.

“What do you even need me for?” he asked.

The hand on his arm tightened. “You can’t believe I could bear to lose your friendship.”

“I’m more than your friend.” Ty looked into his king’s concerned deep blue eyes. I love you, he thought, letting himself admit it for the first time. I’ve loved you from the start.

“I know we’re more than friends,” Anso said. Ty heard the words . . . and the fact that this conversation was catching Anso flat-footed. That told him pretty clearly Anso didn’t feel the same. Ty tried to tug away, but Anso held on. “Ty.”

“I should go,” he said.

“No, you shouldn’t. Damn it.” Anso ran one hand through his sex-tousled hair. He’d come himself at some point. Wereseals had a sharp sense of smell. The scent of his semen was as familiar as Ty’s own. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You looked like you were doing fine a minute ago.”

“I don’t mean the sex. I mean being king. If you aren’t with me . . .”

That brought Ty’s eyes back to him. “I’m always with you for that.”

“Then don’t storm off. Stay.”

His eyes were pleading. Uncomfortable with that, because he didn’t know what it signified, Ty looked at the couple sitting hand-in-hand on the guest room bed. They weren’t pretending not to listen, but they were quiet. Ty knew they had the kind of partnership Anso had hoped to find someday: true compatibility, support as well as love.

Ty lowered his voice. “You could make them both fall for you. People lust after me, but you earn their devotion. All you need is time, and they can be everything you want.”

Anso was the same height as Ty, and his eyes met his steadily. “They can’t be everything I want if part of what I want is you.”

Ty’s heart leaped inside him. He wished he could pry a window into Anso’s mind and know exactly what he meant by this. Did Anso love him? Did he plan to save a place for Ty in his bed? The intensity with which he hoped for that both alarmed and embarrassed him. Loving people rarely ended well for Ty.

Another hand touched his arm, the last one he’d expected. Olivia Forster had moved quietly to join them. Anso’s mate was petite. Ty lowered his head to look into her face. Her expression struggled as she tried to compose her thoughts.

“I’m not sure what to say,” she began. “I don’t know what, if anything, you want from me and James. I do know Anso shouldn’t lose his friends because he . . . just because we showed up. If he wants you to stay, and if you’d like to yourself, I don’t think you should let pride or anger get in the way of that.”

She set her jaw as she finished, as if she thought he’d argue. Ty was too astonished. How had she understood what was inside him, and in so short a time? Her husband had as well. James had been the first to accuse him of being in love with Anso. No one else thought him capable.

Not even Ty, to be honest.

“You want us all to stay together?” he blurted.

Her brows went up and her eyes widened. “If that’s what both of you would like.”

She’d spoken as if her wishes were a lesser priority. That’s when Ty realized she wasn’t thinking of herself as Anso’s queen. She was sharing mating heat with him, and she certainly seemed to like him, but in her mind they weren’t a bonded pair.

Maybe Anso wouldn’t wrap this situation in a bow as easily as he’d thought.

“I’ll stay,” he said, his attention half caught up in this conundrum, which led him to speak unthinkingly. “Not here, though. Anso’s bed is bigger.”

Olivia’s cheeks flushed an attractive shade of rose, an interesting combination with her red hair. “I didn’t mean . . . I’m not necessarily expecting all of us to have sex.”

Ty’s groin tightened and went warm. His mouth curved in his best Casanova smile. He didn’t know whether Anso wanted to share her, but he couldn’t let a blush that pretty pass unremarked.

“Don’t turn shy now,” he teased, watching the color deepen. “A man like me enjoys his fantasies.”

~

Olivia couldn’t help it if she had a thing for bad boys. Ty’s teasing grin would have wet her panties, if she’d been wearing them. As it was, her clit was still squirming from watching Anso give James that amazing blow job, the ache in her body not ebbing in the least. Anso took one look at her reaction and started pulling off his already disheveled clothes.

Once he did that, no way could she muster up enough politeness to refuse.

James’s jaw dropped as Anso stripped naked. The king’s physique was a cross between a football player and a competitive swimmer, with a touch of something sleeker than either of those thrown in. Even wrestling with his garments, the king was graceful. Olivia didn’t blame James for being a bit dazzled.

They both were startled by how speedily he scooped Olivia into his arms. “Sorry,” he said over her shoulder, for James’s benefit. “I understand you want to come along, but please don’t touch her this time. My body is starting to react against all this company. I’m feeling a little . . . instinctive.”

He meant possessive, and Olivia totally got it. Her hands were roaming his beautiful arms and shoulders, little moans escaping her as she dragged open lips across his sweating chest. He was hers, no one else’s, and she wanted him to herself. The last time she remembered feeling this way was on her honeymoon. She licked salt from Anso’s clavicle, then caught his descending mouth with hers.

They kissed so deeply, so hungrily, he bonked them into a doorframe.

Anso tore from the kiss, his eyes blazing blue fire at her. His arms tightened around her. “Be ready for me,” he warned.

He tossed her onto a bed she hadn’t realized they’d reached. To save her life, she couldn’t have said what else was in the room. The sight of him dropping to her—flushed, intent—was all she had eyes for. She sprawled her legs for him to come closer even as he kneed them apart.

He knew where he was going. Foreplay wasn’t an option for either of them right then. Olivia moaned as he lowered and drove straight in, her gratitude unbelievably. What followed his swift thick entry might have shocked both of them.

Anso screwed her so hard, so fast, that it should have hurt her and him. Instead, they reacted as if neither could get off unless he was pounding her. She wailed at how good the absolute wildness felt. True to Anso’s request, James kept his distance. She was only dimly aware of Ty and him standing shoulder-to-shoulder at the foot of the mattress.

She came twice before Anso quivered and let go.

“God,” he swore, slamming all the way in to shoot. Her body strained to pull more from him, as if his seed were a medicine she needed. Maybe it was. Maybe that’s what his mating heat did to her.

Once again, she hadn’t thought of asking him to wear a rubber.

When this round’s ejaculation petered off at last, she was hugging him to her with her face buried in his neck. His pulse thudded strongly against hers, the matching rhythms causing her pussy to tighten helplessly. Forcing her arms to loosen was not easy. As she did, Anso stroked her damp hair back from her forehead.

This was a different kind of possessiveness, one that said he had the right to be tender. Deep in his eyes, she saw sadness. That might have called to her most of all. He thought he loved her and knew she didn’t feel the same. Saying it aloud couldn’t have made it more obvious.

“Okay?” he asked.

She nodded, afraid to trust her voice.

He drew back within her, but couldn’t seem to pull out all the way. With a groan, he rocked back in just as his penis would have slipped free, his still-hard shaft forging slowly, deliciously into her.

“Sorry,” he panted. “I can’t stop quite yet. This heat is making me crazy. I think I need to spill at least one more time.”

Olivia bit her lip, really, really not wanting to turn him down. Anso pulled back and pushed again, dragging a groan of desire from her.

“Maybe you should change positions,” Ty said. “You might make her sore if you keep going at her the same way.”

She didn’t know when Ty had dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed. She certainly hadn’t noticed him taking off his clothes. Anso’s mattress was set flush into the floor, and was twice as big as the one in the other room. Ty knelt on the rumpled covers, his tight butt resting on his heels, his cock sticking up like a flushed pink pole. His pubic fur was lighter gold than Anso’s, and she couldn’t help thinking the colors would look nice side-by-side. Ty’s strangely beautiful yellow eyes gleamed at her. The faint leopard spots on his skin looked completely strokable.

“I never saw a man take a woman before,” he said. “Not outside of a porno flick. I wouldn’t have thought it was okay to be that rough.”

He seemed to want information for himself.

“Rough feels good when its him doing it,” she said.

He nodded. “I like it when he’s rough too.”

She didn’t think he was hoping to make her jealous, just sharing a fact with her, almost as if he wanted to make friends. Did either of these men know how to be intimate with women? For that matter, how good were they at being intimate with each other? They were giving off a definite shortage-of-communication vibe. Ty looked at Anso then, and both men’s Adam’s apples bobbed.

“Take her again,” Ty whispered. “From behind, so I’ll have a clear view of you going in.”

Maybe from someone else, this request would have been presumptuous. Anso was the king after all. He pulled out of her, possibly so he could clear his head and consider the suggestion. Olivia doubted hers were the only eyes to sneak to his rock-hard, cream-licked cock. Anso seemed not to know he was attracting admiration. His attention stayed on Ty. As it did, James’s fingers curled around hers from the other side. He’d knelt on the mattress too. Olivia’s head jerked to him. She had just enough time to take in the calmness of his eyes.

Her husband certain had sides she hadn’t known were there.

“Okay,” Anso said, sending involuntary thrills cruising up her spine. “If Olivia is agreeable, we’ll do this as you suggest.”

Olivia’s limbs were shaking, but she had no objection. Anso and James both helped her turn onto her front. Ty found a bolster pillow with the ideal firmness for propping up her hips. All this assistance made for an odd team sport. By the time she was in the desired position, all three men were breathing more heavily.

That was a sound she didn’t think she would soon forget, no more than the singular buzz of being watched. Some impulse made her rest her right cheek against the mattress, so that her eyes faced Ty. When he noticed her attention, his breathing went choppy. She smiled, and she was pretty sure he saw.

“Give me your oil,” he rasped, more or less in Anso’s direction. “I want to share it with James.”

She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to another man saying James’s name in that tone, but she couldn’t deny it was a turn on.

“Please do,” she said to Anso, perhaps emboldened by Ty’s daring. “I’d like to watch your best friend jack off while you’re taking me.”

Anso’s hands had been smoothing around her bottom, admiring the softness he’d commented on earlier. His caresses stopped at her words. She thought what she’d asked was fair, but she hoped she hadn’t offended him.

She hadn’t, apparently, or his hands wouldn’t have resumed circling her.

“All right,” he said, a hint of a shake in it. “I think I’d like that as well.”

~

Olivia wouldn’t have believed it, but this bout topped the previous one. She and Anso seemed to get more lost in having sex every time they did it, though her awareness of Ty and James kneeling on either side of them was acute. There was nothing smooth about the way their audience pulled at their well-oiled cocks. They misshaped them, and made noises, and yanked at their balls unself-consciously. These were private habits, used because they were what felt best, and because their attention was so focused on Anso driving his cock in and out of her. The king wasn’t as crazed as before, but by God, he was intense.

The moans of pleasure he let out were as arousing as James or Ty’s.

Ty, she noticed, like to play with his balls a lot.

“Is she tight?” Ty gasped between tugging strokes. Olivia suspected he wanted to know exactly what Anso was feeling more than he wanted to take his place.

Anso groaned, momentarily incapable of answering. “She’s a . . . fucking fist.” He worked himself into that fist more emphatically. “Maybe—” He grunted as he hit her end. “Maybe she and James . . . will let you feel for yourself.”

The offer was unexpected—and possibly she’d been wrong about Ty not wanting to take Anso’s place.

“Shit,” he said, abruptly stroking himself so quickly his hand was a blur. “Why did you tell me that? Now I can’t wait at all.”

James and Anso both let out low pained noises. They were going faster too, Ty’s dilemma exciting them. Olivia probably felt the same as they did. Though her pussy was being pummeled better than it ever had in her life, she kept her eyes open and on Ty. She knew he was the one worth watching.

“Shit,” he repeated, seeing her attention. “Just touch me. Just put your hand on my cock.”

Ty was kneeling right beside her, but Anso had to ease some of his weight up so she could reach to him. When she gripped his quivering erection, Ty slapped his hand over hers. Even with her fingers squashed to him, she could tell his skin was as petal soft as the king’s. Her palm fell in love with it just as thoroughly.

Ty seemed to like her grip in return.

“Agh,” he cried, forcing it up and down his length. “God. Liv.”

He’d used her nickname. James’s nickname for her. The coincidence gave her goose bumps. Hadn’t Anso done the same thing in the tunnel? It wasn’t the only circumstance that sent a thrill through her. Anso slung in hard and started shooting in that extraordinary God-let-me-drill-an-inch-deeper way he had. A second later, James cried out and came like a geyser, hot seed spattering on her back. Ty gasped at that, obviously excited, though he seemed determined to hold on.

“Oh yeah,” he rasped, his hand and hers rough on himself, as if masturbation was better when it felt like a punishment. “You . . . are the . . . hottest female ever.”

She came like his voice made her, like she was a wine press, and his praise slammed all the juice out at the same time. She gushed cream around Anso, the pressure he was exerting suddenly registering twice as strongly on every nerve. She couldn’t even scream, the orgasm stole her breath.

“Now,” Ty growled.

His hips bucked forward as his seed shot from him as lengthily as the other men’s.

When they all were finished, she was covered in jism.

She began to laugh, because she knew she must look a fright. The stuff was all over her. Down her legs. Across her back. Some even dripped from her hair.

“What’s wrong?” Anso panted, pushing shakily back from her.

Olivia collapsed. “Something about . . .” She couldn’t get it out; she was dissolving into giggles, rolling up on the bed.

“Something About Mary,” James finished for her, chuckling.

“The sequel!” she gasped, and both of them snorted.

“The horror sequel!” he came back.

“I saw that movie,” Ty said, though he seemed mystified as to why they found it hilarious. “You don’t like having semen on you?”

Olivia’s laugh quieted with a sigh. “I like it,” she said, smiling reassuringly up at him. “Maybe I’m not as . . . natural about being messy as you seals are.”

“It looks sexy,” Ty said. “To me, anyway.”

Oh this one had a sweet streak she could get used to. She’d let go of him in the aftermath, but she reached out now to rub his thigh. She sensed he’d learned to be sweet from his own vulnerability.

“I’m not being polite,” he said, his yellow eyes narrowing. “Seeing you like this really is a turn on.”

She laughed, but her eyes stung without warning. She liked this man, and she liked Anso, but this whole thing was impossible. She was married. James was her real husband.

As if he knew she needed their connection, James took her elbow and helped her stand—or at least sway on both feet. “We’d like to borrow a shower,” he said. “Just the two of us.”

“Of course,” Anso said. He pushed to his feet and looked at her. “Make yourself at home in mine. And please come back afterward. It would make me happy if . . . if we all shared this bed for sleep tonight.”

His words seemed to surprise Ty. James, by contrast, had a good poker face—one of his most valuable CEO assets.

“We’ll talk it over,” he said. “We appreciate being invited and, um, thank you for the sex.”

The moment they were alone in the mile-long white marble bathroom, Olivia shoved his shoulder. “Thank you for the sex?”

James’s boyish mouth split into a grin. “What was I supposed to say? Orgasms that extreme deserve to be acknowledged.”

Olivia hugged him and sighed into his chest. They had been extreme. Maybe too extreme for comfort.

Chapter Ten

BECAUSE the Forsters were using Anso’s bathroom, he and Ty cleaned up in one of the guest chambers. They didn’t horse around the way they might have before. Anso expected they each had too much to think about. Ty finished first and left, seeming to want to be alone. Respecting that, Anso took his time drying off and donning pajama pants.

He didn’t realize how worried he’d been that Ty would leave altogether until he found him in the casual sitting room that adjoined his king’s bedchamber.

WQON’s midnight news was on the TV, the sound low but audible. Ty was watching sprawled on the well-stuffed couch, having grabbed yet another blue and silver Vitul robe for himself. He didn’t keep his own robes here, though Anso would have made room for them.

Wondering if Ty’s choice had a deeper significance, Anso stepped into the room. Ty sat up as he entered. He didn’t pat the cushion beside him, but Anso dropped to it anyway. Kevly Manning, the wereseal newscaster they both liked was covering a dry but important story on recent volatility in the stock market. Manning had interviewed Anso more than once, and he’d been smart but fair. Though Anso tried to pay attention to his talk of fluctuating prices, the words slipped right back out his ears.

“Hey,” Ty said, his hand coming to his shoulder. “When did you last get a good night’s sleep?”

“Don’t know,” Anso said, then shook with a mighty yawn. “Not since my heat started, I think.”

Not since his father died, but that sounded too sad to say. He looked at Ty, who probably guessed anyway. “Sometimes she looks at me,” he said, “and I can see it in her eyes. She knows she belongs with me.”

“You just found her,” Ty reminded him. “I’m relatively sure it takes more than hormones for mates to fall in love long term.”

“My mother never did.” He didn’t feel better for saying it, just like he had to.

“That was her. And that was your father. You’re your own man.”

Anso looked down at his hands. He’d flattened them on his thighs, atop his plain blue pajama bottoms. For one strange second, he didn’t recognize who his hands belonged to. “I’m in love with her already. I look at her, and I ache. I know it sounds ridiculous, and maybe I’m imagining it, but it feels absolutely real.”

Ty released a near silent sigh. “Maybe it is real. I guess people fall in love like that sometimes. Olivia doesn’t seem like a bad person. She’s kind enough. And quick. And certainly game in bed. Complications aside, you could do worse for a mate.”

“You want her too.”

“She . . . attracts me,” Ty admitted, his chest rising and falling a little more shallowly, though his gaze remained steady. “Were you serious about me taking her if she’s willing?”

“I think I was. My instincts are veering around. One minute, I can’t stand the thought of anyone touching her. The next, exactly that sounds unbelievably exciting.” The idea was making him hard even as he spoke. Ignoring that, he finished telling Ty what he needed to. “I thought when I mated I might stop wanting you, but that isn’t happening.”

The yellow iris around Ty’s expanded pupils flared. He blew out a ragged laugh. “I can’t say the fires have sputtered for me either. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

Anso didn’t know, and it didn’t seem right to guess. Then his mouth took a sidestep he hadn’t planned. “You probably can’t get her pregnant. She’s already behaving as if her body is keyed to mine.”

“That’s true,” Ty said. Anso hadn’t known he needed this concession until he felt a primitive satisfaction well up in him. Maybe Ty saw the reaction. The corners of his seductive mouth quirked up. “You know, not being able to knock her up won’t make me any less motivated to have sex with her.”

An erotic land mine went off inside his groin. In his mind he watched Ty take her, saw the face his best friend made when he came. Ty’s hand was resting behind his shoulder, both their knees turned slightly toward each other. They sat close enough to kiss. In spite of the mammoth relief his body had recently enjoyed, Anso didn’t think he’d ever wanted to fuck Ty more.

“I’m too greedy,” he burst out. “I want all of you.”

Ty laughed softly, the light in his eyes dancing. “Some would say that’s the prerogative of a king.”

“It can’t be. My blood makes me fit to rule, not to take advantage. I—”

“Sh,” Ty said and pointed at the wall TV.

“This just in,” Kevly Manning was saying, two fingers to his earpiece. The graphic of a black and gold mini-dragon was displayed behind his shoulder. “Earlier rumors have been confirmed. All the Meimeyo dragons have unaccountably disappeared from the campanile at St. Mark’s. Keepers postulate the dragons figured out how to work the locks on the outer door, stating that their intelligence is similar to that of wereseal four-year-olds. Why the dragons would want to escape is a matter of ongoing speculation. According to folkloric tradition, as long as the Meimeyo reside in the basilica, Oceana cannot fall. We’ve brought in a specialist from the city’s university to comment on this.”

The newscaster turned to address a tweedy-looking blue elf who’d appeared on the screen behind him. His black wool turtleneck looked like it must be hot. Perhaps to counter this, the elf’s dark blue hair was scraped with painful neatness behind his pointy ears.

“Professor Darty,” Manning began, “what do experts in your field make of this development?”

Anso groaned behind his hand. He had an inkling where this was leading. When he’d been crown prince, Professor Darty had asked him to fund a grant for studying the parallels between ancient Outsider myths and those of the weres. Anso would have been happy to do so if the elf hadn’t twice been accused of fiscal malfeasance. The charges hadn’t stuck, but the professor himself had set off Anso’s bullshit meter. Six months later, he’d awarded a similar grant to one of Darty’s rivals. Despite his attempts to present a sober facade, the professor’s glee at this lovely chance for revenge was close to bursting from him.

“Obviously, it’s a curse,” he said. “Someone high up in Oceana’s administration has offended the magical balance. Nothing less could trigger an ill omen of this magnitude.”

“What do you mean by high up?” Kevly Manning inquired.

“Prime Minister high,” Darty said, somehow managing to convey primness and gloating at the same time. He paused to look portentously into the camera. “The offender might even come from the royal house.”

“Crap,” Anso said. There could be no doubting Darty meant to implicate him.

“It couldn’t be a coincidence?” Manning asked. “Maybe the Meimeyo snuck out of their roost to chase a nice school of shrimp.”

“This is the Pocket,” Darty said, peering down his long blue nose at the newscaster. “Most people know coincidences mean something.”

Overcome with disgust, Anso flicked him off with the remote.

“Well,” Ty said, flopping back on the sofa. “I guess we don’t have to ask what Ellice’s opening gambit is.”

“Come on,” James’s voice protested behind them. “They’re talking about a curse.”

Anso turned to find James and Olivia standing beneath the sitting room’s archway. Like Ty, they’d dressed in Vitul patterned robes following their shower. The entire trio was wearing his family symbol. Anso’s brain swooped in a manner he didn’t have time to make sense of.

“Okay,” he said to Ty, “a) we can’t be certain Ellice is behind this, and b)”—sighing, he turned to James—”while enacting curses is illegal in the Pocket, they aren’t unheard of and they can be real. It’s within the realm of possibility that the Meimeyo constitute a reservoir of good fortune that protects the city.”

“That professor implied you’re the reason the dragons left,” Olivia broke in indignantly. “I haven’t known you one whole day, and I know you care about your people too much to put them at risk. Oh!” She covered her mouth as puzzle pieces fell into place. “If your cousin is behind this, she must be laying the groundwork for claiming you violated the magical balance by mating me. Maybe she thinks you’ll give in to public pressure to cast me off.”

At least she wasn’t denying they were mated. “I’m afraid that might be her train of thought. I know you really are my mate, but you being married isn’t ideal.”

“What a bitch,” Olivia exclaimed, the heat of her defense warming him. “And an irresponsible bitch to boot. She could cause a panic. And what about those cute little dragons? If she arranged for them to be lured from the home they’re used to, they might be in danger from predators.”

“She has a point,” Ty said. “We’d better contact the Oceanic Wildlife Patrol. Make sure they’re looking for them. Chances are OWP has been notified, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“Tell them I’ll cover overtime and extra personnel myself.” Anso was cynically aware that this would look like a PR stunt, but that was just too bad. Like most of Oceana, he’d adored the Meimeyo since he was a boy. His favorite Sunday morning cartoon had been Mini-Dragons to the Rescue.

Ty had dug up a cell phone, and was already speaking to someone. Anso pressed his temples between his fists, trying to think what else he ought to do. Contact Lord Noth? Try to talk sense to Ellice? He couldn’t give her what she wanted, so that seemed unlikely to produce good results. The mini sea dragons were a protected species. If she admitted what she’d done, the consequences would be uncomfortable for her.

“Damn it,” Ty said, knocking the now closed cell phone against his brow. He looked as frustrated as Anso felt. “I should have known something was up when I saw that dragon outside the service wing. I told OWP where I spotted it,” he added. “They’d been notified straight away by the St. Mark’s keepers, but they appreciate being able to put extra squads on the search.”

“Good.” Anso sagged back on the sofa. To his surprise, a small pair of hands settled on his shoulders, kneading gently to either side of his neck.

“It’s late,” Olivia said. “And you both look exhausted. Is there anything else you really need to do tonight?”

Anso looked at Ty, who pulled a face and shrugged. “Apart from confronting Ellice, who has too much to lose to tell the truth, we could probably tackle this tomorrow.”

“Then do,” Olivia said. “You’ll make better decisions after a good night’s rest.”

She sounded like a caring mother. That made Anso smile until he remembered she was one.

“You’ll stay?” he asked, doing his damnedest not to let it come out a plea.

Olivia looked at James, who nodded back at her.

“We’ll stay,” she confirmed to Anso.

~

Anso’s bed was big, but with four of them in it—three of whom were large males—body parts necessarily touched each other.

Anso’s protective instincts demanded that he spoon Olivia. She, not surprisingly, curled up behind her husband, who rolled around to face her. Anso discovered he didn’t mind the pair exchanging quiet glances, or them twining their fingers together before they closed their eyes. Ty filled the stretch of mattress behind Anso. At first he lay on his back, but when Anso reached backward to rub his arm, he sighed and rolled into him.

Anso’s reaction to Ty’s weight settling at his back was extraordinary. A strong flush of heat spread out from his center, as if a new array of hormones were releasing. The effect wasn’t sexual. Though he took pleasure in being surrounded by beautiful bodies in silk robes, he didn’t grow more aroused as the endorphins or whatever they were spread through his bloodstream. Instead, his body became totally peaceful. The feeling was more profound than mere relaxation. It was as if, in that moment, every atom in the universe was in its proper place—including the atoms that made up him.

Olivia murmured in her sleep, her soft little bottom wriggling closer to his groin. Her movement didn’t break the spell. In truth, Anso felt it deepening.

In some seal species males collected harems, if they were strong enough to defeat rivals. Perhaps this situation had triggered those responses inside of him. He couldn’t doubt he had a bigger atavistic streak than most. He had gone spawning to find his queen. Smiling, he settled his arm more comfortably around Olivia’s waist. As he did, his hand came to rest on James’s forearm.

The man didn’t stir. No one was awake but the king. Bubbles ticked soothingly in the courtyard garden, a lullaby he’d known his whole life.

They’re all mine, he couldn’t help thinking.

Because he couldn’t help it, he let that be his final thought before he sank into slumber.

~

James nor Olivia weren’t morning people. This was one reason they liked to swim first thing. They could do it slowly if they wanted, and they didn’t have to talk to each other in the meantime.

James was at best half awake when he extricated himself from the sleeping bodies on the low bed. The floor was the same smooth black stone that ran through most of the royal suite. He shuffled across it as well as he could toward the sound of a pounding shower, praying to every god he could think of that Oceana served coffee. His nose must have been more alert than the rest of him. Anso’s rooms smelled amazing, as if a bed of spicy-sweet summer flowers were blooming just around the corner.

The tantalizing fragrance followed him into the huge marble bathroom, which boasted a toilet stall and a urinal. James grumbled at his unusually stiff morning wood, something he thought he should have been too old for. Ignoring an incipient urge to rub one off, he gave his penis an annoyed pinch, waited a couple seconds, then emptied his bladder.

Maybe he’d slept longer than he realized. The stream was strong and went on for a while. Done at last, he turned to wash his hands.

He didn’t look at himself in the mirror. Whatever age Ty and Anso were, they were as fit as if they were twenty, with the perfectly developed muscles of pro-athletes. James had eye circles in the morning, not to mention patches of gray whiskers. Olivia always gazed at him like the most gorgeous man on earth, but his own eyes could be less kind. He’d stare down his reflection after he’d had caffeine.

With a grunt of private approval for this decision, he dropped his robe and stepped around the white Carrara dividing wall for his wake-up shower.

Someone was using the big enclosure, but it wasn’t Olivia. Ty stood under the pelting spray: tall, golden, and steamier than the chamber in which he stood. James’s gaze dropped helplessly down his naked body. Ty’s soapy hand was around his penis, tugging it by the flare from his groin. At first James thought he was whacking off, which made his previously discouraged morning wood slap back against his belly.

Then James squinted harder at what he was looking at. Ty was indeed tugging on his penis, but the organ wasn’t jacking-off erect. He seemed to be holding it out from some sort of smooth skinned pocket, which was surrounded by his wet pubic fur. The open slit sent a shudder down his tailbone. James honestly couldn’t tell if he were repelled or aroused.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed hoarsely.

Ty was too startled by the intrusion to maintain his hold on himself. The crest of his penis slipped through his soapy fingers, the whole thing flipping back and disappearing into the fold of skin. His pubic pelt sealed together, creating the appearance that he was wearing a generously filled fur jockstrap.

“What. The. Fuck,” James repeated, starting to back away in alarm. His heart was pounding so hard he nearly had to swallow it.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Ty snapped, his hand flashing at faster than normal speed to catch James’s arm. “I’m a wereseal. Of course I’m built differently. The penile sheath protects my genitalia when I’m swimming. Wouldn’t want the lobsters nipping my favorite bits.”

“But—” James said, then couldn’t decide what he wanted to object to.

Ty sensed his confusion. He smiled at him, his annoyance sliding away. “Okay,” he said. “You weren’t prepared to see that. I wasn’t prepared to see you. I thought you were Anso out there, peeing like a racehorse.”

Now James felt stupid for having cursed at him. The spray of the open shower was catching him on the arm, but he couldn’t seem to move away. “I assumed you were Olivia.”

“That was quite an assumption.” Ty’s eyes were glowing now, and not only with amusement.

“My brain doesn’t wake up until I’ve had coffee.”

“Some parts of you appear lively,” Ty observed.

The crazy erection he’d woken with was bouncing in front of him. Ty smiled more broadly, tugging James half a step closer. Then he wrapped his hand around him.

“Oh God,” James moaned, because Ty’s hand was soapy.

“Put your hand on me,” Ty said, low and intense. “Feel my cock slide out of its sheath when you make me hard.”

James’s eyes had closed with bliss, and he was afraid to open them. What if his libido decided this was too weird? Despite his trepidation, he couldn’t resist cupping Ty’s crotch, feeling the silky seal fur, and the seam, and the swelling head starting to push out. This time when he shuddered, he knew he was aroused.

“This is crazy,” James said. “This shouldn’t turn me on.”

Ty’s mouth was grinning when he kissed him.

The kiss was full out—no shyness, no you’re-a-straight-guy-so-I’ll-go-easy-on-you restraint. Maybe James wasn’t so straight anyway. Maybe he was closer to half bent.

He was getting used the strangeness of Ty’s equipment, or at least very interested. He stroked his penis as it emerged, loving its growing hardness within his palm. He was almost sorry when it was out all the way. Apart from his ball sac not dangling the same way, Ty’s cock felt like a normal erection.

Not that feeling other men’s erections was normal for him. Anyway, it hadn’t used to be.

“I should stop,” he said, tearing free of Ty’s very active kiss. The other man’s lips were temptingly reddened.

“Should you?” Ty slanted his mouth over James’s again.

James remembered Ty had hormones in his saliva, which acted as aphrodisiacs. That reminder couldn’t make him stop kissing him. Truthfully, he enjoyed it so much he couldn’t convince himself he was coerced. He groaned as Ty backed him into the buffed marble tile, his slightly greater weight holding James prisoner there. Wound up plenty by that, James stretched to align the few inch in their heights. Though it was a sacrifice at first, he let go of Ty’s cock in favor of rubbing their soap-sluiced erections together. As soon as those hard rods touched, Ty writhed against his front like a sex-crazed eel.

“Mm,” James hummed, clamping his hands on Ty’s buttocks to get more pressure.

As good as this felt and as wildly as they were rubbing, what he really wanted, more than anything in the world, was for Ty to fuck him. His hole felt like it was burning, his ass cheeks clenching as if that could give his rear passage the friction it was longing for.

“God,” he gasped, his head falling back at the strength of his desire. Right that moment, he’d have paid Ty quite a sum to give him a good reaming.

Despite how much he wanted it, he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.

“Turn around,” Ty said, his sure hands already moving him. “Brace your palms on the tile. If I don’t fuck you this second, I’m going to go crazy.”

It was exactly what he wanted, but he couldn’t accept.

“I should—” James groaned as Ty sucked what felt like a monster hickey on the back of his neck. The sting of that cranked him even higher. “I should really . . . clear this with Olivia.”

Ty’s hand slid down James’s heaving chest to grip the base of his throbbing cock.

“Really?” he said, his upward tug so fierce James’s kinks had to race to catch up to how good it felt. “You think you should clear this with your wife?”

He sounded angry, and that was exciting too.

Before James could find his voice, Ty’s tip probed between his cheeks. It was broad and hot, and as it searched for a home, sparks shot straight up James’s spinal cord. A gush of what had to be pre-ejaculate joined the last of the soap on Ty’s dove-soft crest. James didn’t have the moral fiber to resist the allure of that. The need inside him was too brutal.

“Ty,” he said, the man’s name tearing from him. “God. Yes. Shove your dick into me.”

Ty shoved, and grunted, and the head of his prick squeezed in. This turned out to be the key to opening James’s personal anteroom in heaven. Ty’s cock was better than a set of fingers. It filled James like he imagined men filled women, stretching and massaging nerves that seemed like they were only then being born. James arched his hips to let him deeper.

“More,” he moaned, not caring how it sounded.

Ty wrapped one arm across James’s chest and plunged.

James nearly came from that single penetration.

“Shit,” Ty breathed, clearly on the edge himself. His prick was pulsing hard inside James’s ass, suddenly feeling twice as big as before. He dragged it back within him. “Try to hold on for me. I want this to last a bit.”

James tried so hard his brain hurt. Ty kept his pace on the slow side, but each thrust felt so good, so thick and alive and hot sliding past those awakening nerves that his slowness didn’t help James much. Ty wouldn’t let go of James’s penis either, though he was more feeling him up and down than stroking. When even that began to seem like too much stimulation, James tried to push him away. Ty wasn’t having it.

“I need you in my hand,” he said, his whisper impossibly intimate. “I want to feel what I do to you.”

With talk like that, it was no wonder James was soon groaning with desire. This, it turned out, was what Ty had been waiting for.

“I like holding off,” he confided burningly beside James’s ear. “I like it when I need to come so badly my balls feel like knots of pain.”

James’s erotic switches were too damn similar. His hands fisted on the shower’s marble cladding, his hips pushed toward Ty as far as they would go. His legs trembled almost too badly to hold him up.

“You’re killing me,” he panted, which made Ty’s next thrust sling in harder.

“Okay,” Ty said, his own breath ragged, his powerful hips drawing back for another drive. “Why don’t we die together?”

When Ty started hammering into him triple time, the fucking felt so insanely wonderful, James thought he honestly might expire.

~

Ty hadn’t planned on falling on James like this. There was such a thing as seduction, and Ty generally enjoyed it. He’d simply been overcome by an urge to claim James for himself.

Anso had his new favorite. Why shouldn’t Ty as well?

Letting his inner Viking loose felt like flying, as if this man’s ass, and maybe this man’s nature had been created just for him. Ty loved sex, but Anso was the only partner who’d ever felt this in synch with him. Even better, James wanted him exactly as he was. Ty didn’t have to hide a thing.

Ty’s climax shoved against the dam that held it. He was going to obliterate it, going to crash through like a missile. James strong back arched, his hand fumbling for Ty’s hip as he improved his angle for entry a fraction more.

That little movement spelled the finish to Ty’s control.

He came even harder than the night before. He gulped for air as the orgasm broke, clutching James to his front while he drove as deep as possible into him. His own heat rushed out of him.

Ty would never tell, but James mewled like a cat when he went over.

“Oh God,” the man said, the last of his climax dripping down Ty’s hand. “Are you sure I’m still alive?”

Ty laughed, pulled free of him with a wince, and let him turn around. They’d moved farther from the spray than they’d started, to the edge of its clouds of steam. As James blinked his dazed eyes open, Ty got one of the bigger shocks of his life.

James’s eyes were no longer hazel. From swollen pupil to clear bright white, they were the drowning blue of the best sapphires.

Vitul blue.

Anso’s blue.

The sense of betrayal that squeezed Ty’s throat was worse than any he could recall. He hadn’t claimed James; Anso’s majestic genes had already marked the man.

“What?” James said, his hand flattening gently over Ty’s breastbone. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

There was no point in not telling him.

“Come,” he said, leading him to the one of the bathroom’s three marble sinks. There, he cleared a circle on the steamy glass and waved for James to see for himself.

“Holy crap,” James said once he’d leaned close enough. “What the hell happened to my eyes?”

“This is the mark of mates. Apparently your genetic makeup thinks it belongs to Anso too.”

“Too?” James turned to him uneasily.

“Olivia’s eyes are certain to look the same this morning.”

“Oh my God,” James said. “How will we—” He stopped talking with a strange expression on his face. He clamped his jaw, a muscle ticking hard in it. “I need to see my wife.”

“I’m doing nothing to stop you,” Ty pointed out.

“Did you know this would happen?”

“To your wife, yes. Your transformation has caught me by surprise.”

James’s newly blue gaze held his, seeming to search for some answer. Ty would have paid good money to know what he was looking for.

He said what he did next because it was fair. “Anso hasn’t done this to hurt you or her. The process is an involuntary one.”

“You said it’s genetic.”

“With some magic thrown in.”

James’s mouth twisted as he turned away. Ty noticed he was no longer denying magic existed. “All right,” he said. “We’ll find some way to handle this.”

~

Olivia enchanted Anso by the simple act of lifting her dark red lashes. Her eyes were no longer the blue of a sunny sky. They were his blue. Vitul blue.

Her body had fully accepted their mating.

“What?” she asked, her sleepily smiling face an inch from his on their shared pillow. They had the bed to themselves, which was a miracle in itself. In that moment, they could have been any two new lovers.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, brushing the tip of her nose with his.

She bit her lower lip and grinned.

Enjoying that, he slid his hand down her side to the dip of her waist. She was his now. No one could deny it. No one could take her away. “How do you feel this morning?”

She thought about that with her nose wrinkling adorably. “Very good,” she decided. She stretched and wriggled, which had a predictable effect on his lower parts. “I must have slept well. I feel like someone peeled ten years off me.”

Actually, it was more, but he felt no need to enlighten her right away. “I told you Oceana would be good for you.”

“You did.” Her deep blue eyes had gone serious, simply staring into his. The back of her hand came to rest lightly on his bare chest. “Why do you move me? Why do I feel like I could happily gaze into your eyes all day?”

“Because I’m your mate. Because I love you.”

The words came naturally to him. She didn’t protest, but her eyes turned worried before the fans of her lashes dropped. She was biting her lower lip in a different way from before.

“It’s all right,” he said, chafing her shoulder through the robe. “I hear these things take time.”

“Is there coffee?” she asked shyly.

“There can be. I’ll tell Harrison to call for breakfast.”

She nodded and rolled out of the bed. His body seemed tied to hers by a string. He followed her to one of the porthole windows where artificial daylight poured in.

“Those sunbeams look real,” she said, craning her head to see upward. “How far above us is the surface?”

“Many leagues.” This line of inquiry made him uneasy. “Olivia, it isn’t out of the question for you to visit the upper world. It simply isn’t advisable right now.”

She turned to look at him, and his head reared back in surprise.

“What is it?” she asked, startled by his reaction. “Do I have something on my face?”

Her pupils had shrunk dramatically in reaction to the bright light, revealing a second color on the inner ring of her irises. The narrow striated circle was bright yellow.

The same yellow as his best friend Tykon Otari’s eyes.

For two long seconds, Anso was incapable of any response but shock. Then resentment came. And fear—because how could she belong to him when another male had marked her? Finally, and most unexpectedly, a glimmer of the rightness he’d felt last night returned. He wasn’t sure the feeling would last, but he clung to it.

He pulled Olivia’s smaller hand into his and rubbed it. “Come with me. I need to show you something.”

A full length mirror hung beside his bedroom door. Olivia grabbed a robe on the way—his robe, as it happened. The sleeves dangled quite a ways past her hands. This inconvenience was forgotten when she got a look at herself.

Her gasps of revelation at her changed reflection were what he’d have predicted. She was disbelieving, and suspicious, and then simply confused. She peered at her face from one angle and then another.

“My crow’s feet!” she accused. “What did you do with them?”

“Your genes are different now, sweetheart. Their clock got turned back and slowed down. You’ll age as Ty and I do. Chances are you’ll be healthy right to the end of your life.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, surprising him. She turned from the mirror, wringing her hands in plea. “I have to be a normal person. I have to grow old with James.”

Anso truly didn’t know what to say to that. Most females seemed to prefer staying youthful, or why did humans buy all that wrinkle cream? Now that the issue was on the table, he realized of course she’d want to age at the same rate as her husband. Anso was being self-centered to think he’d come first with her.

He was spared from stammering more than a moment by Ty and James’s emergence from the bathroom. Her husband had his own news to share, which led to another round of gasps and exclamations. The dilemma Anso had just discovered existed seemed not to after all. James’s eyes weren’t the only part of him that was different. He looked younger, just as Olivia did, though thankfully he hadn’t lost the friendly crinkling around his eyes. At Anso’s gentle request, he submitted to having his irises exposed to the porthole’s light. When his pupils shrank, the same yellow ring that had appeared in Olivia’s eyes showed in his.

Ty’s mouth went slack with amazement. Anso was childishly glad for the company.

“I don’t understand this,” Ty said, his face fighting not to show his strong inner emotion. “I’ve never heard of two people marking the same person, much less doing it twice.” Ty looked at Olivia and blinked rapidly, most astonished at having affected her. “I don’t . . . understand what to make of this.”

“I expect it means there’s a bond between all of us. Maybe—” Anso rubbed his jaw and spoke carefully. “Maybe the four of us are meant to be together.”

James was flushed—and recently ravished if Anso’s heightened senses were to be believed. No matter what had transpired between him and Ty in the shower, he held Olivia’s hand as if it were his lifeline. “How do we know you two didn’t manipulate this change in us? You’re asking us to take your word that this mystical mumbo jumbo means what you say it does.”

Olivia squeezed his tense fingers. “James, you usually know when people are lying. Does it feel like Ty and Anso are conning us?”

He turned to her, his expression helpless. Anso could tell he wanted to deny it all. Olivia lifted her free hand to stroke his cheek. “I know, honey,” she said. “I know this is difficult.”

James bent and embraced her. He whispered something in her ear as she hugged him back, maybe about his recent activities in the shower. She patted him. “We’ll figure it out,” she murmured.

When James straightened, they both seemed steadier. James squared his shoulders, which might have been a teensy bit broader. He looked ruggeder than before—and handsomer, which should have troubled Anso more than it did. Seeing his own blue eyes in Olivia’s husband’s face, feeling the primitive tug on the parts of him that were wired to respond to that, should have set warning bells clanging. Never mind his theory about the four of them bonding. It couldn’t be a good idea to fall for both members of this couple.

Risking one heartbreak was quite enough, thank you.

“Olivia looks like your mate now,” James said.

“Yes,” Anso agreed cautiously.

“I know a few things about PR. If you and Olivia were seen in public, and her eyes could be caught on camera, you might counteract the lies your cousin is planning to spread.”

In spite of everything, James’s devious turn of mind made him smile. “We might,” he said. “Perhaps we could discuss it over coffee.”

Chapter Eleven

JAMES loved solving other people’s image problems, especially unearned ones. Kidnapping aside, James’s assessment of Anso’s dedication to his subjects ran in line with Olivia’s. The king’s sense of responsibility seemed deep enough to call old-fashioned.

The challenge of managing spin in a brand new culture engrossed him so much he nearly forgot the problem involved him.

The three men hashed it out over breakfast and coffee. Olivia was mostly quiet, the black and white of numbers more her style. Not that she didn’t have a grasp of psychology. James was aware of her watching them. She was taking in their dynamic, making her own assessments. He found his hand straying to her more than usual: rubbing her shoulder, brushing her sleeve. He needed the touchstone. Because of what he’d done with Ty, because his and Olivia’s bodies hardly seemed their own anymore, his emotions were tumbling inside of him.

He didn’t feel able to face all that. Having Anso’s PR challenge to chew on was a godsend. That the other men heard out his opinions came as a pleasant surprise.

By the time they’d eaten the last scrap of toast and kippers, he thought they had a workable strategy. By the time the coffee had disappeared, the king’s personal clothes shopper had arrived. Anso wasn’t the one who needed a new outfit. Olivia was being prepared to create just the right impression. The long rack of gowns the consultant rolled into the blue salon caused Olivia’s jaw to drop with dismay.

By common consent, not to mention mutual terror, the men abandoned her to the competent hands of Anso’s expert.

“Seriously?” Olivia complained. “You’re all leaving me to my own judgment?”

“We’re leaving you to Mrs. Bonn’s,” Anso said, smiling. “She knows how you need to look.”

“I do, Your Majesty,” Mrs. Bonn assured her, her curtsey somehow combining friendliness and respect. “Once you’ve been here a while, you can establish your own style.”

Because this would be Olivia’s last ambition, James smiled to himself. Because she disliked being rude, he wasn’t surprised she allowed the shopper to lead her away.

Twenty minutes later, Olivia stuck her head through the door of the dining room and waved frantically for him to come out. James’s wife was decisive about many things, but “dressing fancy,” as she put it, wasn’t one of them.

“Excuse me,” he said to the others.

“I could help,” Ty offered, then closed his mouth as Anso laid a hand on his arm.

James looked at them and had a completely surreal moment. Was it odder that he wanted Ty to come, or that the man who’d abducted them was trying to give him privacy with his wife?

He didn’t get an answer, but Anso held his eyes the longest. “She doesn’t need to look perfect. As long as Mrs. Bonn approves, any outfit she’s comfortable in is fine.”

“I’ll . . . make sure Olivia knows that,” James said.

Olivia had already retreated back to the salon. James found her sitting on a silver loveseat in a pair of flowing trousers and a gorgeous Victorian-style bodice top. The pants were gray and the bodice black, the pieces united by a matching embroidered pattern of coral branches. Mrs. Bonn, who stood by the fireplace looking worried, had stuck real diamond pins into Olivia’s red hair, securing it away from her face. The freshly brushed waves glowed against the creamy perfection of her skin. Once he got over the extravagance of the diamonds, which weren’t tiny, James had to admit her new eyes went with her hair even better than her old ones.

“Wow,” he said as she jumped up nervously.

As far as he was concerned, Olivia’s figure had been great before. Now, either the boning in the top or the wereseals’ infectious genes had worked some extra magic. He swallowed, feeling like a guy from high school who sees his prom date in her ball gown for the first time. The boy parts between his legs were definitely going sproing.

Naturally, his speechlessness made his wife more uptight.

“This outfit isn’t me,” she babbled, her hands fluttering over it. “I mean, it’s pretty, and it’s less fussy than the others, but it isn’t me at all.”

Recovered from his temporary paralysis, James crossed the carpet to her. He took her by the shoulders to give her a onceover. She looked as amazing close up as she had from the door, but Olivia wouldn’t be satisfied unless he pretended to critique her. He guessed Anso’s super-respectful consultant hadn’t pulled off this balancing act.

“Turn around,” he said, waiting until she did to wink at Mrs. Bonn.

“There was a plainish blue dress,” Olivia nattered, “but I’d have to wear heels with it.”

“Well, that would be too much. Suppose we had to swim somewhere.”

“Those trousers flow beautifully underwater,” Mrs. Bonn interjected. “They’re not hard to control at all. And the slippers have water straps.”

“So you made the right choice,” James said. “Plus you look gorgeous.”

Olivia turned back to him.

“Really gorgeous,” he said, his simple affection for her funny vulnerabilities overflowing. “You’re the picture people imagine when they think of beautiful queens.”

“It’s true,” Mrs. Bonn confirmed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if all the girls want their hair spelled to match to your color.”

Olivia covered her mouth and laughed shakily.

“I’ll leave you,” said Mrs. Bonn, offering them both a curtsey. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

For a minute after she left, he and Olivia simply held each other’s hands. He saw she felt foolish for her fashion panic, but also that she knew apologies weren’t required. When she’d regained her balance, she sighed out a breath.

“You sure you want me to do this?” she asked. “Aren’t we going to make Anso’s situation worse when we finally leave?”

“Not if those little dragons are back where they belong by then.”

“I’m afraid we’ll be leading his people on.”

“Some of them will be glad to see the back of us no matter how good an impression you make at this press conference. The important thing is not to make our escape look like it’s Anso’s fault.”

Wryness twisted Olivia’s mouth.

“I know,” James said. “The part of you that likes the king doesn’t want to break his heart.”

“I shouldn’t be able to. This whole situation is crazy.”

James tugged her to him, kissing the hair that swooped back from her temple. Olivia’s arms circled him. Maybe his muscles were as changed as her figure. Her weight felt as light as air.

“Look on the bright side,” he said. “We’ll be traveling out of the palace. I can’t pretend to mind that.”

Olivia hugged him and snorted. “You just want to sightsee.”

“Don’t you?”

“As long as I’m not too nervous to enjoy it.”

“You’ll be fine, Liv. You won’t even have to talk. Just stand next to Anso and bat your royal blues.”

“You have them too,” she said, craning her head at him.

“No one will see mine. I’ll be in the back, looking proud my wife got chosen by such an important man.”

Olivia rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a total lie. You could be a queen if you had to. You have the brains and the heart. And, apparently, the hair.”

They grinned at each other, a sense of humor in adversity a trait they shared.

“You’re still you,” he said. “Nothing can change that. We’ll get contacts when we’re home is all.”

Her eyes softened, and her hands slid up his robe’s lapels. “You’re still you,” she murmured back, “even if you and Ty had sex.”

He hadn’t told her, but he should have known she’d guess. “Liv—”

“Sh.” Her fingers stroked the sides of his neck. “How can I begrudge you that pleasure?”

“Liv, the reason I—”

Her lips pressed his softly. He gave in and kissed her back, part of him wanting to cry with gratitude for her forgiveness, the rest caught up in the sweetness of sinking into her mouth. She kissed him like he was precious, like no one in the world was more important to pay attention to. Her love had never seemed so palpable to him, waves of nearly touchable energy rippling from her to him. He buried his hands in her hair and groaned. How could he love her this much and have wanted Ty so badly? Her body melted into his, his groin hardening strongly in response. He wanted her enough to ache. Lust was a portion of his reaction, but so was the need to express what he felt for her in every way he could. Looking back, he wished he could say lust was the only thing that had driven him to Ty. He just couldn’t convince himself of it.

Reluctantly, he drew back from her. Her cheeks were flushed prettily. “I want you to know I’ve never cheated on you before.”

The back of her fingers caressed his face. “Me either.” A little smile touched her kiss-red mouth. “I’m pretty sure these qualify as special circumstances.”

“Liv, you know how I like to say we’ve been together in other lives?”

“Sure.” Seeing he was serious, her smile faded.

James pulled in a breath. “I actually remember them.”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “You do?”

“Just pieces, but they’re very vivid. Do you remember how on our first date I guessed what you liked to eat?”

“I assumed you’d asked one of my girlfriends.”

He shook his head. “I remembered how you liked to be kissed as well. How sometimes you wake up after sex and feel so alone you need to be held. I know more about you than you’ve ever told me, and I used it to win you.”

“What are you trying to say?” she asked.

“Olivia, in one of the lives we shared, you and I were both men.”

“Oh.” Her hands slid down his arms to his elbows, but she didn’t let go of him. “Are you saying that’s why you’ve had daydreams about being with guys? Because you wanted to recreate that memory?”

“I thought so,” he said. “Now I’m not sure.”

She rubbed his biceps while she considered this. “Does it matter why you’re attracted to men?”

“Maybe. It seemed better when I thought it was because of you.”

She smiled unexpectedly. “Seems to me even in your fantasies you were trying to be true to me.”

“You deserve that,” he said.

He practically heard the calculator keys clicking in her mind, his sweet little accountant with a heart. “Maybe,” she said slowly, “us being true to each other isn’t as simple as we thought.”

~

Royal press conferences certainly weren’t simple. Another of Anso’s staff briefed her on protocol: who got into a transport first, who she was allowed to thank and who only got a nod. Oceanan royals had a dorky public wave the same as the Brits. Olivia privately decided she’d ignore that. She was an Outsider. If Anso’s people minded her waving like a normal person, they’d just assume she didn’t know better.

The press conference would be delivered underwater. Olivia’s ability to breathe that way would provide further proof that she was the king’s bloodmate. She made the shift from breathing air to breathing water in Anso’s coral garden, to avoid her possible panic being seen in public. To her relief, her anxiety was brief. Anso squeezed her hand, nodded reassuringly, and she inhaled without more coaxing. Once she had, being buoyant and not needing air tanks was quite pleasant.

She was a little disappointed he hadn’t had to kiss her this time.

The submarine-gondola they rode in had the option of being filled with air or water. Since they’d already transitioned, water served for today. Always more of an athlete than Olivia, James caught on right away to the trick of moving around inside.

“It’s like being an astronaut,” he laughed, tugging her down into the seat next to him. “Zero G all the way.”

Ty assisted her with the roller coaster-like safety bar, his attention shifting between her and James as he did. Olivia’s body tightened as his hands brushed her, though he wasn’t trying to flirt. He’d marked her too, so would she get sex-crazed for him? Was that what had happened to him and James? For that matter, would it happen between James and her? James gave her quite a buzz with that kiss back in the salon, so much that she hadn’t wanted to stop.

She ought to mind all of this. Instead, she was reckoning the minutes until the four of them could be alone again. Was it wrong of her to hope she’d have a chance to sample Ty as well? Was she like Saint Augustine, who prayed for chastity but not yet?

“You look beautiful,” Ty murmured as he checked her shoulder strap. His yellow eyes burned when they met hers. Tiny bubbles clung to the spikes of his fair lashes, though the water in the big royal sub was otherwise crystalline. She supposed they had some sort of magical filter.

“Thank you,” she said. “You look very nice yourself.”

He smiled. He’d traded his pirate clothes for a crisp uniform, the same black and silver deal the other guards in the gondola wore. His had a few more doodads decorating it. Olivia hadn’t missed the fact that they called him Captain.

“Don’t try to remember every detail of protocol,” he advised. “No one expects you to be perfect.”

“Actually, I have a good memory. It’s the spontaneous public charm stuff that trips me up. James is the one who has everyone in stitches at parties.”

Ty’s gaze cut to James and then back to her. She couldn’t guess what he was thinking as he lowered himself into the comfortable chair across the aisle from them. He had much more of a poker face than Anso.

The king sat farther forward in this aqueous equivalent of Air Force One. He was also in uniform. Guards and advisers surrounded him, plus the elegant older man he’d introduced to her as Lord Noth, the head of his King’s Council. Lord Noth’s eyes had taken her measure to the millimeter, but Olivia assured herself she’d stood firm. With the exception of Noth and the guards, who were too professional to gawk, everyone here had shot her and James worried looks, as if they were bombs about to go off. She and James had smiled calmly in return, which eventually caused the looks to stop.

She hadn’t forgotten what James had told her earlier: that their only real job today was to appear content with their lot. If they weren’t seen as a potential source of conflict, there’d be no serious reason for Anso’s people to object to him taking her as mate.

Her James had a way of cutting to the core of things.

I can do content, Olivia told herself. She was surprisingly—and maybe shamefully—close to it anyway.

A hum vibrated through the huge gondola as it pulled away from the palace dock. From there, they entered a tunnel through which they traveled at high speed. Though there wasn’t much to see beyond the lights flashing by on the wall outside, James still pressed his nose to round window.

“We’re clipping along at a hundred knots,” Ty said, noting his fascination. “Once we leave the secure tunnel and enter traffic, we’ll slow to about thirty.”

“Wow,” James said in the same wondering tone he’d used for Olivia’s outfit. “I suppose it takes a special license to drive these things.”

“Very special. The smaller models are easier to qualify on. They’re just as entertaining, I think. You feel the speed more when you’re a minnow and not a whale.”

“You could drive this baby,” James said, turning back to him.

Ty confirmed his guess with a grin. “There isn’t a single vehicle in Oceana I’m not licensed to operate.”

“Shit,” James said, unabashed envy in the sound.

Boys and their toys, Olivia thought, laughing silently to herself.

No doubt James would have grilled Ty more if they hadn’t entered the city then.

“Ooh,” Olivia said, leaning across her husband to press her nose where his had been.

Apart from being underneath sunlit water, they could have been cruising Venice’s Grand Canal. Olivia was suddenly grateful for Mrs. Bonn and her fancy pins, which kept her hair from floating around her face and spoiling the view. The city of Oceana was magical in every sense of the term. Wide boulevards. Graceful historic buildings. A “sky” that was only a slightly deeper blue than at home. Many vehicles joined them in the main thoroughfare. Some were big, some family-sized with faces pressed to their windows, some as neon bright and tiny as scooters. The people who drove these clung to their backs as if riding dolphins with handlebars. Almost all of them were grinning behind their eye goggles.

“Those are Vespas,” Ty informed them. “They’re cheap to buy and a lot of fun.”

“We have Vespas at home,” James exclaimed excitedly. “They’re little motorcycles. We drive them on the ground.”

“A lot of folks who live in the Pocket are descended from Outsiders. Sometimes they like to reinvent a piece of their native land. The majority aren’t abducted,” he added. “Most wander into our territories on their own. They don’t quite fit in your world, and they have enough magic in their nature to hear the call of ours.”

“Does it ever work the other way around?”

Ty cocked his head at Olivia’s question.

“It would be difficult,” she said, “if you were born here and didn’t have any special gifts. It might be tempting to try your luck with mundanes.”

“I suppose,” he said. “But people don’t run away very often. Generally speaking, Oceanans aren’t fond of dry land. We feel like fish out of water, I guess you’d say.”

That scooped a hollow in Olivia’s chest, one whose cause she didn’t want to examine. Maybe James felt it too. He patted her hand and fell quiet.

Shortly after that, their whale of a gondola pulled up at an anchorage beside the upper level of a basilica—St. Mark’s of the Meimeyo, she presumed. The guards sprang into action, including Ty. Before she and James had finished freeing them from their safety harnesses, their uniformed cordon was ready to escort them. Anso swam back through it to her.

“Ready?” he asked, taking her face gently in his hands.

Her eyes stung with tears that immediately washed away. This man was as protective of her as James.

“I’ll be fine,” she said as lightly as she could. “With all of you looking out for me, how could I not be?”

Seeming to know this wasn’t quite the truth, Anso brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. He looked behind her to James.

“We’re ready,” James assured him. “Olivia doesn’t fold when the chips are down.”

With that vote of confidence to shore up her shaky nerves, they swam through a frescoed corridor Olivia really would have enjoyed lingering in. She loved the Italian masters, and these paintings looked very much like Giottos. Sadly, art appreciation wasn’t on their itinerary. In no time at all, they reached a stone balcony that overlooked the basilica’s broad front steps.

The instant their figures were visible a great roar went up. That was enough of a shock for Olivia, but a million camera flashes seemed to go off simultaneously, blinding her before she had a chance to find the recommended footholds for anchoring her slippers. Between barrages of white strobes, she caught glimpses of Anso and Ty kneeling down on either side of her to help her secure herself—very much like two golden princes preparing to propose. That sent the photographers into a fresh frenzy. Olivia had to press one arm across her eyes until the flares died down, though she tried her best to keep a calm relaxed face. When the worst seemed over, she dropped the shield cautiously.

Anso must have been a popular king. The square beneath them was packed with people, level upon level of them, the colorful, slowly undulating mass stretching out in the distance to either side. A line of easily identifiable green-uniformed police kept anyone from swimming too close. Viewing screens were tacked to some of the buildings, so the balcony could be seen from more angles. Olivia watched her startled eyebrows shoot up her giant brow and firmly ordered them to stop doing that.

At a podium beside her, Anso stood tall and proud. Seeming perfectly calm, his hand came to the small of her back and stayed. In that moment, it didn’t feel at all deceitful to lean closer to his support. At these small signs of their connection, the crowd fell quiet. They’d been told their king had taken a mate, so that at least wasn’t a complete surprise.

“Thank you, Oceana,” Anso said into the microphone. He was very steady, and his voice sounded beautiful magnified. It echoed a bit between the grand buildings. “My queen and I appreciate your interest in our well being. I’ll be making a brief statement, after which I’ll answer a few questions. First of all, I wish to confirm that I’ve followed Vitul tradition in seeking a mate with whom I have a true blood bond. Olivia comes to us from Outside. Our courtship has been short but providential. I cannot doubt her sweetness and integrity will bless our city nation and myself.

“In addition, as was the case for William the Second and Conjugus the Magnificent, Olivia has the added commitment of a human spouse.”

Anso paused while the crowd exploded again. Intensifying the furor were questions from reporters, who were in the cluster nearest the balcony. He withstood this with more patience than Olivia could have pulled off. The vibrations of the renewed uproar pulsated to them through the water. Anso waited a minute, lifted his hand, then waited some more until he could be heard.

“Thank you,” he said, exactly as if they’d cooperated right away. “While no one can deny this situation presents emotional challenges, I have faith that my heart and instincts have guided me truly. Her Majesty’s husband is a man of honor and intelligence. Any king would be lucky to have his queen cherished as James Forster cherishes her.”

Anso’s voice actually broke, which Olivia knew he and the others hadn’t planned. This was genuine emotion he was displaying. He was grateful to her husband for loving her. Olivia’s eyes flew to Anso’s face as he turned to her.

“I feel very lucky,” he said to her, though his words still addressed the crowd. “I trust and hope you’ll afford us the same courtesies any newly mated couple would want in order to step more firmly onto a path of lasting happiness.”

He couldn’t have been more romantic if he’d tried. His hand had slipped from her back, but hers found it as it dropped. Their fingers twined together without effort, and Olivia’s throat went tight. She had the increasingly familiar and—in its way—increasingly terrible sensation that he was indeed her man. In that moment, she no more could have let go of Anso’s hand than she could have looked away. He was the one who broke their eye-lock. This time, as he drew breath to continue, the crowd was pin-drop quiet.

“Finally,” he said, his voice still husky, “I wish you to know I share your concern for the fate of our city’s beloved guardian dragons. The resources of the royal treasury have been put at the disposal of the Oceanic Wildlife Patrol, so that they can more effectively search for them. Until the Meimeyo are returned to their home, I humbly ask you to join me in praying for their safety, in whatever manner you observe. Love is a power in our fair city. With that behind our rescue efforts, I don’t foresee us failing.”

He was getting her choked up now. She couldn’t have found the voice to pelt him with questions as immediately as the reporters did.

The very first who was singled out asked if His Majesty was going to set up a sexual schedule for all his potential new lovers.

“That’s a personal question,” Anso said calmly. “I won’t be answering those on this or any other day.”

If Olivia hadn’t known Anso and Ty deliberately chose this journalist to call on first, in order to get him out of the way, the even keel Anso remained on would have amazed her. Subsequent questions weren’t as bold, but they all struck her as intrusive.

Because she didn’t want to be seen getting upset about it, she tuned them out. She turned her gaze to the marvel-worthy scenery instead. The crowd billowed up and down like a cape, the bright yellow gondola taxis gleamed, and the curving stretch of Venetian buildings provided plenty of distraction. The dome of another church rose above the rooftops a few “canals” beyond them. Scaffolding surrounded its cupola, so she supposed even magic cities required repairs. The silver cross on its roof glinted in the sun, a beacon calling her eyes to it.

Where do faeries worship? she wondered. Did creatures of pure magic believe in gods? She spotted a handful twinkling regally at the back of the crowd against the opposite buildings. They floated hand-in-hand in a line, perhaps to avoid bumping elbows with the regular rabble. Their wings, if they had them, weren’t in evidence. Would Olivia get a chance to see some before she and James escaped?

She thought back to her exchange with Ty, about how Oceanans rarely emigrated to the Outside. When their daughter Violet had been a child, she’d sometimes run away as often as once a month, just go into a fury over some perfectly reasonable restriction and take off with her little Barbie backpack full of supplies.

Olivia smiled to remember it. Violet had been so blasted willful and passionate. She was lucky James and Olivia hadn’t been able to help loving her.

Violet had always come home, the only exception being the few occasions when she was afraid to. Those times, she’d run away because she knew she’d be in trouble for something she’d done. Violet hated punishment worst of all when she knew she deserved it. Then she’d hang around somewhere close—a fort in a neighbor’s yard, the little library down the street—until she ran out of juice boxes or judged Olivia’s mood had sufficient time to soften. Even at five, she’d been eerily capable of gauging the moment her mother’s relief would outweigh her anger.

As annoyed as Olivia sometimes got at her rebelliousness, she’d been in awe of her daughter for knowing this.

Her gaze strayed again to the dome with the construction scaffolding. The newscaster for the original report on the missing sea dragons said they had the intelligence of four-year-olds. That didn’t necessarily mean the Meimeyo thought or felt in human ways, but what if some of their reactions were similar? What if they believed they’d be in trouble for running off? And what better spot to conceal themselves than someplace quiet that nonetheless felt like home?

Her grip on Anso’s hand tightened at the idea, causing him to falter in the middle of answering a question. He looked at her, but she gave her head a tiny shake and smiled.

When he smiled back, a soft fond glow entering his eyes, she just knew he was going to call an end to the Q and A. She was more important to him than any amount of positive PR.

~

As soon as they were back in the sub, Ty and James bumped knuckles victoriously. Though Anso understood why they were elated, he was occupied with steering Olivia in. He looked on indulgently as they congratulated each other.

“That was awesome,” Ty crowed.

“The way his voice broke,” James said.

“Olivia’s blush when he told her he felt lucky!”

“My favorite was her eyes turning red when he talked about love being a power in ‘our fair city.’ I knew she’d get emotional if he mentioned those little dragons. You should see her when commercials with puppies come on TV.”

As Ty secured himself in a seat with half his attention, Anso heard Olivia mutter sheesh underneath her breath. Ty was too caught up in reliving their media coup to notice her reaction.

“The camera loved her,” he gushed, leaning across the aisle to James. “Wherever she is, Ellice must be shitting clam shells. Olivia couldn’t have come off better if she’d been Joan of Arc.”

“Guys!” Olivia snapped. James and Ty turned to her with matching startled looks. “If you’re done discussing how predictable I am, I have an idea where we might look for the Meimeyo.”

“Really?” Ty said. “Where?”

“Yes,” James seconded. “Where?”

Anso rubbed the arm he held as she suddenly got self-conscious. “It’s only a guess, but I was remembering how Violet—our daughter—used to hide close by our house after she ran away.” Olivia’s mouth pulled into a rueful smile. “From the age of five until she was around eight, Violet made running away a regular hobby.”

“Really?” Ty said, this taking him by surprise. It took Anso by surprise as well. James and Olivia seemed like the kind of parents no child would want to leave.

“Violet was . . . stubborn,” James explained.

“Really, really stubborn,” Olivia laughed. “We’d tell her she couldn’t wear her favorite outfit more than forty-eight hours nonstop and she’d go bonkers.”

“Remember when she wanted a pony?”

“A pink pony!”

“I think she lit out three separate times over that. Thank God she outgrew that stage, or she’d still be grounded.”

They sighed out a laugh together before Olivia went on. “Anyway, I wondered what if your cousenemy arranged for the Meimeyo to be let out but not taken to a specific location? Maybe the freedom went to their heads, and they had a little adventure, and now they’re afraid they’re going to be considered bad dragons. They could be holed up somewhere together, screwing up their nerve to face their scolding or hoping it will go away. When our daughter was the age they’re supposed to be as smart as, that’s what she would have done.”

“That could be what happened,” Anso said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “But we still don’t know where to look.”

“Somewhere near their home,” Olivia answered. “Somewhere like their home, so they’ll feel safe. I saw a church from the balcony where we were standing that looked like it was closed for renovation.”

“Our Lady of the Waves,” Ty supplied. “But OWP checked there already.”

“If the Meimeyo are feeling guilty, they wouldn’t have come out if they were called. They’d have stayed in hiding.”

A thrill of hope skipped across Anso’s shoulders. “I’ll tell the pilot to change course,” he said, trying not to get too excited. “It’s certainly worth looking.”

Ty flipped his harness open and hopped up. “I’ll see if there’s any shrimp salad in the stores. OWP would have checked the church a while ago. The dragons are used to being fed on a regular schedule. If they’re there, they might be hungry by now.”

They both departed so quickly James had to grab Olivia’s arm before she floated away.

“Sorry,” Anso called over his shoulder.

Olivia waved him on and laughed.

~

The king’s desire to join the search party turned out to be a bigger deal than Olivia expected. Ty wasn’t inclined to stop him, and the guards took their cue from him, but Lord Noth and the advisers were determined to try.

“The building could be unstable,” Lord Noth protested. “We can’t risk it coming down on you and the queen.”

“It’s stable enough for the restorers,” Anso countered. “Therefore, it’s stable enough for us. We’ll use the aquaglides. They’ve got collision shields built in. And Nico will wear an earpiece. He’ll be reachable at all times. Believe me, I wouldn’t allow Olivia to come if I didn’t think this was safe.”

A bit more politely heated discussion followed, but kings weren’t easy to overrule. In the end, the four of them plus the better part of the guards went to canvas the cathedral.

Nico, who Olivia was disconcerted to recognize from their abduction, snapped the front door’s chain with a big pair of bolt clippers. As he did, Ty and the other guards unloaded their next mode of transportation from the sub’s cargo bay.

The aquaglides were shiny black T-bars with football size engines. They were easy to use and ran almost silently, allowing their group to progress down the marble-columned nave while barely leaving a wake. Anso had instructed everyone to be as quiet as possible. If the mini-dragons were here, they didn’t want to scare them off. The silence added to the closed cathedral’s eerie loveliness.

The electricity was disconnected, and the only light stretched in silvery spokes from the high windows. As far as Olivia could discern, Our Lady of the Waves was Mary, her sad-kind figure featured prominently among the niche statues. Carvings of kelp, fish, and seahorses were also popular decorations, along with a suspiciously muscular looking fellow brandishing a trident. How Poseidon had finagled his way into the New Testament pantheon, Olivia couldn’t guess. In one large wall mosaic, he carried a platter of lobster to the baby Jesus in the manger.

Because James was something of a shaky Catholic, he sniggered at seeing that.

They cruised all the way to the choir without spotting their quarry, though plenty of shadows flickered in the side chapels. When they’d reached a respectful distance from the high altar, Anso gestured everyone into a huddle.

“I think we need to go up,” he murmured. “The Meimeyo were living in a campanile. They’ll probably want to roost high. Nico, spread your men down here and make sure they don’t try to sneak back this way. If you spot them, engage the net. They’re too quick to chase down individually, plus we’d frighten them if we tried.”

“Got it,” Nico said. “But take Mark with you at least. Lord Noth will have my nuts if I let you go on without a guard.”

Anso made a face but didn’t argue. Mark plus his holstered (and slightly mysterious looking) weapon joined their slow upward spiral into the cathedral’s dome. A grid of scaffolding covered the mosaics on the vaults, obviously where the church was showing its age the worst. The higher up the aquaglides towed them, the better the light became, due to the many beautiful clear windows. They ascended from the dome into the lantern, passing first through circular oculus. To Olivia’s disappointment, not a single dragon tail could be seen.

“Huh,” Ty said, peering around the cross-supporting structure that sat atop the dome. “I really thought we were going to get lucky.”

Olivia had too—and felt pretty silly for dragging them on this wild goose chase.

“Maybe this church is like St. Paul’s in London,” James offered. “If the dome was built in sections, there could be cavities in between.”

“I believe it was,” Anso said, his face lighting up.

“I spotted some holes in the brick around the oculus,” Ty said. “They looked big enough for the sea dragons to swim through.”

“Not for us, though,” Olivia felt glumly obliged to say.

Ty’s grin could have been a ray of sunlight. “Right,” he said. “That’s where the vacuum packed cans of shrimp come in.”

With only a bit of jostling, the five of them landed themselves and their aquaglides on the narrow railed gallery that circled the oculus. Ty and the guard called Mark removed a dozen tins of shrimp paste from their uniform pockets. Shrugging at each other, they mutually decided to open all of them, creating a trail that led out from the biggest gap in the aging brick. Then Mark and Ty sat with the others.

Absolutely nothing happened for ten minutes.

Well, crap, Olivia thought, mentally composing her apology. She didn’t get a chance to open her mouth. Anso and Ty and Mark suddenly sat straighter.

“What’s that smell?” James whispered just as Olivia caught a whiff through the shrimp. The scent was the same flowers-and-spice aroma she’d noticed when she first woke up with Anso, before their latest metamorphosis sidetracked them.

Anso was sitting tailor style next to her, his body taut with attention. “That,” he said, “is the smell of magic.”

“Hold hands,” Ty whispered, clasping both Mark’s and James’s. “Slow your breathing and think of peaceful things.”

He was the last person she expected to be giving new age advice. On the other hand, since they were in a city faeries had created, maybe it would be smart to go along.

Anso’s hand was warm and gentle, James’s firm and familiar. The instant they were all hooked up, a silent hum ran through the muscles in Olivia’s arms. The sensation was extremely nice, like warm blankets and hot tea. Her thoughts naturally calmed. She remembered Violet when she was little: how despite her volcano of a temper, she’d always loved to be cuddled. Their little girl had such a wonderful heart, no matter how hot it ran. Olivia knew she’d forgive her anything.

A small black nose poked out of the nearest hole.

James’s hand squeezed hers, but no one said a word. The first nose was joined by a second. Then, as if the entire school had decided it was all right to emerge, dozens of black and gold mini dragons poured from the cavity behind the brick.

They fell on the open tins of shrimp as if they were starving.

“Shh,” Anso said when Ty and Mark both began to move. “Let them finish their meal.”

That took about five minutes.

The nearest can was three feet from where they sat. The two little dragons who’d buried their snouts in it pushed it around to see if there might be more. Then they looked up at them. Their paws had been as clever as hands, their curly tails adorable. Their eyes were dark with beautiful ruby lights.

Come, Olivia thought to them. Come and have a cuddle now that you’ve eaten.

The rational part of her nature thought this was a silly thing to think, right up there with pink ponies. To her amazement and her delight, both Meimeyo darted straight to her and twined themselves—paws and tail—around her neck and shoulders.

This made her laugh, but the sound didn’t startle them. Before you could say I believe in fairies, all the dragons were flinging themselves at their rescuers and clinging like barnacles. Their bodies were slightly warm, their black and gold scales as sleek as silk. The five of them didn’t have enough hands to pet them all, but they did their best. Olivia had to nudge two dragons farther up her arms so she could work her aquaglide. The one on her head was gnawing on her hairpins.

They must have looked a sight when they rode with their cargo back to the cathedral’s floor.

The remaining guards were startled, but quick-witted enough to drop their net over the dragon-covered searchers as a precaution. The Meimeyo cheeped grumpily at that, but calmed again when they got more petting out of it. Lord Noth established himself as good for more than worrying when the team he’d summoned from the Oceanic Wildlife Patrol showed up in five minutes. Looking thoroughly professional, they brought cages and gloves and shrimp biscuits. In short order, they had all but two of the dragons secured in their carriers. Those final two didn’t want to let go of Olivia’s neck.

“Oh let them stay,” she said to OWP’s head wrangler. “I’ll ride back to the basilica with you. I’m sure they’ll unpry themselves once they see they’re home.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said the naturalist with a bow Olivia didn’t think she’d ever get used to.

“We’ve got a count of thirty-five,” said a young plump woman in light blue OWP overalls. “That’s only one short of the original thirty-six.”

“Send someone to the dome,” her boss instructed. “Maybe it’s still up there.”

“Would you like my aquaglide?” Olivia offered, assuming she wouldn’t need it now. The young woman’s mouth fell open. “One other thing,” Olivia added. “Will the dragon who took my hairpin eat it? I wouldn’t want it choking.”

“No,” the head wrangler answered, shaking off as strange a look as that of his employee. Maybe he thought Olivia shouldn’t have let the Meimeyo steal the Vitul jewels. “Dragons just like putting shiny things in their mouths.”

“Like kids,” Olivia laughed, stroking the two Meimeyo she still held. Her laughter made them wriggle, their cold little noses nuzzling close to her neck.

That was how the paparazzi caught her when they snuck in the church’s door: her hair a mess, pieces of net clinging to her clothes, and two Meimeyo snuggled up to her like puppies.

Olivia might not have been an attention hound, but even she knew this was good image management.

Chapter Twelve

AS soon as they made it back to the king’s apartments, Ty turned on the TV in the library. It had only been thirty minutes since they’d left Our Lady of the Waves, where they never did find the last missing Meimeyo. Nonetheless, the paparazzi photos of Olivia and the dragons were already being aired along with footage of Anso’s speech.

Seeing this, a headache began to vise around Anso’s temples. The journalists were in ecstasy, parsing every word and gesture for meaning. Knowing he couldn’t avoid it, he dropped to the couch to watch. Ty was standing closer to the screen, flipping through channels with the remote.

“These are good,” he said, freezing on a shot of Olivia. “Olivia is beaming, and the dragons could be shy toddlers holding on tight to Mum. Even if people ignore the timing, which makes collusion next to impossible, no one who sees these will believe she knew where to find the Meimeyo because she put them there. The media are calling her a heroine.”

“She is one,” Anso said, pressing the heels of his hands into his throbbing eyes.

“One thing is certain. That society columnist from The Daily Current was on the money. You have to throw a party. The public needs to see you celebrating this and your mating.”

“Right. Putting it on the to-do list.”

A gentle hand massaged the back of his neck. “What’s wrong?” Olivia asked softly.

Simply looking into her new blue eyes calmed him. “Feeling a little hemmed in.” He smiled so it wouldn’t seem like a big deal. “And since I’m king, I can’t just go out and swim it off.”

Olivia furrowed her brow sympathetically. “Choosing me as your mate has made you even more of a news story, hasn’t it?”

“It’s not your fault. It comes with the job.”

“But James and I make it worse.”

“Your speech is number one on WooTube,” James interrupted, strolling in freshly dressed with one of the tablet computers from the guest rooms. “The official video has over ten thousand ‘likes.’ Oh—” He stopped as he looked up and saw Olivia and Anso’s faces. “Did something bad happen?”

“Just a small case of celebrity claustrophobia,” Ty quipped. “Occupational hazard.”

“We should get out of the palace,” James said unhesitatingly. “Somewhere quiet with a lot of space.”

His we was as welcome to Anso’s strained nerves as it apparently was easy for James to say. Anso wouldn’t have predicted it, but what he suddenly wanted more than anything was for the four of them to be alone between any walls but these. No ever-efficient butler. No Ellice lurking somewhere waiting to barge in. No Lord Noth calling to ask—or give—his input on this or that. Surprisingly, running off with Olivia wouldn’t have satisfied. Anso needed peace and quiet for all of them.

“Q Gardens?” Ty suggested. “They’re closed to the public on Mondays.”

It was the perfect solution. Donated to the city by a wealthy elf family, the gardens were lovely this time of year. Because they were enclosed in an air-filled structure, the humans would find them familiar.

“Can we get there without being followed?”

Ty’s grin stretched across his face. “You leave that to me, Your Majesty.”

~

Twenty acres of cultivated parkland made the Q Gardens a favorite destination for school field trips. Generations of Oceana’s children had learned their upper world trees and flowers here. A magically reinforced glass structure towered fifty meters above the paths, giving the gardens the look of a conservatory on steroids.

Ty remembered coming here as a boy with other aristocratic students from the palace school. The duck pond had enthralled him, and the rough-trunked oaks with the acorns that plopped on his head. He recalled wishing he’d been an ordinary person so he could have ridden there on the yellow school subs and run wild about the place. To make up for that, he and Anso had snuck off. Anso had saved the crusts from his sandwich to feed the geese. It was one of Ty’s first memories of Prince Anso as a real person. God help him, the die might have been cast for him to fall in love with him then.

Today, that stupidity didn’t matter. Every cell in his body seemed to have achieved a rare state of peace.

“This is perfect,” he said. He was stretched on his back beneath a tree in the wooded area known as the Ramble. The security guard he’d bribed wouldn’t intrude on them here.

“Mm,” Olivia lazily agreed.

She was a good sport, Ty thought, someone who enjoyed winning but wasn’t obsessed like men could be. She lay on the blanket too, with James on her other side. She’d traded her fancy clothes for a nearly clean shirt of Anso’s and a pair of lady’s button-fly jeans she’d somehow convinced Harrison to scrape up for her. She looked relaxed in them. James’s dark head rested on her shoulder, his arm slung across her belly. From what Ty could tell, one of the benefits of being married was being really comfortable with each other.

Ty would have given a lot to rest his head on her other side.

He wasn’t sure he had the right to touch her, but her hand was only inches away. Giving her an opportunity to resist, he pulled her fingers gently into his. She squeezed his hand enough to let him know the hold could stay.

“We made a good team,” Anso said. He’d been pulling off his boots in preparation for lying down. That taken care of, he reclined on his side. Ty liked how close he was. Anso could see across him to the others.

“We did,” Olivia said. “I’m glad the dragons are safe.”

“Why did they smell like flowers?” James asked. “For that matter, why does everything in Oceana smell a bit spicy-sweet?”

Anso’s chuckle warmed Ty’s ear. “I wasn’t kidding back in the church. That’s the scent of magic. Because faeries created the Pocket, everything smells like faerie dust.”

“Noo,” James said, but not like he really doubted.

“Yes,” Anso said. “Species like dragons, which originated in Faerie, carry a stronger scent than half-mundanes like weres. You probably didn’t notice when you first came here because your change hadn’t fully taken hold. Now you’ve got magic in you too.”

“We’re not going to turn into seals, are we?” Olivia asked.

Ty had a feeling if she weren’t so mellow, she’d have sounded more worried.

“No,” Anso said. “I’m afraid that’s a gift we don’t have the power to share with humans.”

Olivia seemed to realize she might have insulted him. Her hand shifted inside Ty’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No.” Anso reached across Ty’s chest to touch her. “You don’t need to apologize. Shapechanging must be a strange idea if you’re not used to it.”

She rolled onto her side to look at Anso, which caused James to grunt and roll after her. Though Ty didn’t move himself, he saw Olivia and Anso lock gazes. The atmosphere between them turned more electric, still relaxed but with a hint of the sexual. That hint added weight to his groin.

Anso and Olivia stared at each other for a long moment before she spoke. “The four of us being together feels good. Like when Ty told us to hold hands at the church.”

Olivia’s left hand had tangled with Anso’s right. Both rested on Ty’s belly, just over his navel. A tingle ran into him at the point of contact, too strong and too erotic for him not to react. Anso’s hand curled farther around Olivia’s just as James slung his upper leg over hers. He wore the same buckskin trousers as Anso and Ty. Whether he intended to or not, his bare toes touched Ty’s ankle.

He felt as if an electric circuit had been closed. He touched everyone, and everyone touched him. His breathing and pulse came quicker, which both Olivia and Anso had to notice.

“If we’re all mated,” Anso said, the first time he’d put it this bluntly, “it makes sense that we’d enjoy being in a group.”

Anso’s voice was huskier. Ty turned his head and found a flush on his face. Anso’s eyes held Olivia’s, but where his hips rested against Ty’s, a definite swell was forming.

“Could I kiss him?” Olivia asked.

Ty’s heart fluttered in his chest. No way was she asking permission to kiss James.

“Is that what you want?” Anso’s voice was even more gravelly now.

“Yes,” she said. “Ty’s mouth is beautiful.”

Ty looked at her, and she looked back. Her eyes were big and solemn, their so-familiar color affecting him physically, as if that deep blue and only that deep blue could reach inside and touch him.

“I want more than a kiss,” he said gruffly.

Her smile was unmistakably delighted. “So do I,” she admitted.

He touched her cheek and stretched up. He swallowed, because he really didn’t want to do this wrong, but the instant their lips sealed together the kiss was pure magic. He made a sound he wasn’t sure he ever had in his life. Hunger. Longing. Pleasure at it being completely met. She tasted delicious—like Anso a bit, but also brand new. Her mouth was tender and sleek inside, her tongue a temptation he couldn’t resist suckling. She sucked his in return, and all the hairs on his arms stood up.

“You taste like cherries,” he murmured against her lips.

“I do not,” she laughed. “Why are all the men in my life romantics?”

He loved that she included him among her men, loved that she called him romantic. A pressure welled inside him that was about so much more than sex. He had to roll her onto her back, had to watch the dappled sun hit her face to make his mark appear in her eyes. Somehow, James wasn’t in the way when he pushed her over. He was making room for Ty to take her.

As Olivia squinted against the light, the yellow inner ring appeared in her irises. Ty’s cock stretched so full at the sight it stung. He pushed up on his elbows. Olivia shivered at whatever she saw in his eyes, someone who wanted to maraud her probably. Ty dropped his gaze to her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples were extremely aroused and pushing out Anso’s shirt.

The reaction was trite, but Ty couldn’t keep from licking his lips.

“Take this off me,” she whispered.

He realized he wouldn’t have if she hadn’t asked. The bull all the wereseals wanted was too nervous to take the lead with his first woman.

Nervous or not, he couldn’t pass up the invitation. He freed her buttons with shaky hands. The other men didn’t help. James and Anso lay close enough to touch but were just watching. The sound of their breathing added heft to his arousal. He bared one warm breast and cupped it, his thumb sweeping across her tight red nipple. He tested its hardness with the pad of his thumb, finding the contracted flesh fascinatingly substantial. Wetness trickled from his prick, his excitement already at its edge. He couldn’t speak except hoarsely.

“You fill my palm perfectly.”

Her hand curved around the ridge of his groin, gently cupping its straining shape. “You more than fill mine, Ty.”

Why did her saying his name send his lust soaring? Groaning, he dropped his head to the breast he held, surrounding that tempting peak and pulling greedily at it. This was something you couldn’t do with men, a thrill that after so many years of wondering and not doing felt forbidden. Her nipple was warm and smooth, and he knew he’d never get enough of it. His enthusiasm was pretty hard to hide, as were the rooting noises he was making. Olivia stroked his hair and arched closer, so he guessed he wasn’t doing it too hard. Giving in to what he wanted, he sucked in more, flicking her with his tongue until she gripped one of his thighs between both of hers and rolled her pelvis against his quadricep.

His head nearly exploded with triumph. He ran his hand around her taut little waist, under her open shirt. The jeans she wore gapped enough to wedge his palm down around her butt.

Olivia’s grip on his crotch tightened. The pressure of her hand felt so good he knew he’d better tug it away.

“Okay,” he panted, easing back from her. Her lips were swollen from their kiss and the same red as her nipples, a comparison that momentarily shorted out his brain. “Okay . . . I . . .” He dragged his eyes back to hers, where the swelling of her pupils had once again drowned out the yellow ring. “I know this is my first time with a female, but I’d really like to get my dick inside you before I come.”

Olivia bit her lower lip, not quite hiding her smile. “I’d like that too.”

The dent she made in her mouth couldn’t be resisted. He kissed her again, which led to long dizzy minutes of driving his tongue in and out of her clinging mouth. Each time she sucked him back, he shivered uncontrollably, which would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t felt so good. Finally, he remembered he wanted to pull off her pants.

“Shit,” he said. “Stop distracting me.”

She laughed, then gasped when he bent to nuzzle her soft belly. Thankfully, his fingers recovered enough of their usual skill to undo her button fly. That exposed more temptations, but he managed to pull the denim and her panties down her strong curvy legs. Then she lay in nothing but Anso’s unbuttoned white cotton shirt, the sides fallen around her breasts, the cuffs rolled up many times to keep them at her elbows. Her pubic curls might have been the prettiest red Ty had ever seen, their charm surpassed only by moisture that glistened among them. His chest was tight, his lungs resisting his efforts to fill them.

Olivia seemed to know what the sight of her did to him, and some of the reasons why. She ran her fingers up one side of Anso’s parted shirt. “Shall I leave this on?”

Ty shuddered, his hands flying to the leather ties at the front of his own trousers. “Yes,” he rasped. “You wearing that after he did mixes your scent and his.”

“I know something else that would,” she said.

Ty saw from Anso’s thunderstruck expression that he guessed what she meant.

“Kneel up,” she said to him.

It was an order, but he didn’t object. He knelt up, making shorter work of his trouser laces than Ty ever could. His big cock was free and being stroked by her pretty hand before Ty was halfway through undoing his sailor’s knot.

The sound of Anso moaning at her caresses didn’t help Ty’s fingers work. Clearly, the king was in heat again.

“I know you need to come,” Olivia panted, her hand small but strong on his reddened skin. “Tell me how to make you come quickly. I want you to be able to watch him take me without your instincts getting upset.”

“Suck me,” he groaned, his head falling back. “Lick me with the tongue that kissed him.”

Ty was staring so openmouthed at Anso’s abandon that he didn’t notice James had moved until his hands joined Ty’s on his trouser front.

“Let me,” James said quietly, his gaze straying to the others and back to Ty. “I used to sail when I was in college. I’m good at undoing knots.”

He was good. He had Ty’s aching cock in the open air even as Olivia swallowed Anso down. Both circumstances made Ty’s organ jerk violently. She was kneeling, and the king was standing, his hips surging into her mouth. This caused the upper half of his erection to disappear. The pleasure he was feeling was obvious. His hands were buried in her gorgeous hair while hers gripped his root and balls, sparing him from worrying about thrusting down her throat too far. Ty could tell his friend would have if she hadn’t taken the precaution. Anso’s motions were jerky, his expression veering between ecstasy and torture.

Ty had to admit this heat thing was a blinking big turn on.

“She’s good at giving head,” James said, like a server recommending the best entree. “Somehow she lets you know she cares about you with every suck.”

His fingertips touched Ty’s cock, lightly pulling up the swollen strut on his underside. His eyes remained on the other couple, his profile flushed but calm.

“Are you okay with this?” Ty realized he ought to ask.

James’s face turned to him, and for a second all Ty could think was that those cobalt eyes looked amazing with black hair. James’s spirit was still behind them: his own individual and somewhat mysterious thoughts.

“More than I ought to be,” he answered.

“I do love him,” Ty admitted, dropping his voice even more.

“You could fall for her too,” James said. “Sometimes she’s so sweet she’s hard to resist.”

Ty couldn’t tell if this was a warning. James’s fingertips had reached the knob of his penis. Along with his thumb, they half plucked, half stroked the sensitive stretched skin. A fat drop of pre-cum squeezed from his slit, the wetness dragging James’s attention down. The other man’s respiration grew choppy as he watched the effect his hand was having. The caress was very exciting, but Ty didn’t tell him to stop. He remembered a time when other men’s cocks were all he could think about.

“You’re pretty hard to resist yourself,” Ty said.

The compliment caused James to release him, or perhaps he was distracted by Anso’s cries of pleasure kicking up a notch in pitch. Olivia was making good on her intent to wring a quick orgasm out of him. Ty found himself swallowing in time with her, as if he could help her suck off the king.

“God,” James breathed. “God, he’s going to go.”

He went with a long rough cry. Olivia swallowed the first two spurts, then pulled free and pumped his cock fast and hard directly toward her breasts. Semen shot from Anso’s penis over their perfect curves, inspiring all of the men to curse.

Now she’d really smell like him.

Heat crashed through Ty. He was tearing off his shirt as he stepped to her, yanking at the sleeves to get free of them. Her hands fell from Anso, and she turned to Ty on her knees. The blanket she knelt on was blue and silver, the Vitul eel clear on it. He couldn’t deny the image exerted power over him. Ty’s cock bounced higher, so hard and thick it could have been a weapon. Olivia looked at it, flushed, then tilted her face to him.

“Don’t touch my cock,” he said, though she hadn’t made a move to do so. “It’s going in your pussy and nowhere else. Don’t touch the seed he spattered on you either. I’m going to rub it in with my chest.”

She blinked at him, her blush growing pinker as her lips parted.

He held out his hands to her. She placed hers in them delicately, her skin hot and slightly damp. Ty pulled her to her feet. He loved how little she was, how he could lift her with no effort. “This is my turn with you,” he said.

Her eyes were huge. “You’re the boss,” she agreed breathlessly.

She was fidgeting on her feet. The knowledge hit him that she was so ready to be taken she was having trouble standing still. The scent of her sex reached him a second later, powerful enough to trigger hormonal receptors he hadn’t known he had. His entire body broke into a sweat.

“Oh yes,” he said. His tone was feral, his grip tightening on hers. “I’m the boss, and I’m going to give you what you need.”

She leaped at him and kissed him. His surprise didn’t stop him from catching her, from boosting her bare sweet bottom up with his hands. He’d meant to fuck her on the blanket, but the tree was right behind them.

Ty wasn’t the sort of lover to ignore a convenience.

He propelled her into it, slanting his head to kiss her deeper, rubbing his chest over her luscious breasts just as he’d threatened.

She made him gasp when she nipped his lower lip. The tiny pain shot like a cannon ball up the nerves of his erection.

“Someday,” she whispered. “I’ll spank you just like he does.”

He gawked at her, panting with increased excitement, scarcely able to believe Anso had told her that. She seemed titillated rather than shocked.

She smiled like a siren at his reaction. “Not today though,” she said. “Today I know you want something more basic.”

Both her hands had been twined behind his neck. One released its hold to slid down the centerline of his heaving chest. On the way, she rubbed Anso’s smeared semen into him. When her nostrils flared, he thought he’d go insane.

“Olivia,” he burst out, his arousal so intense his skin should have caught fire where she touched it.

Her thumb rubbed a circle around his navel, her smile going even more cat-in-the-creamery. She lowered her head to lick a short trail across his shoulder.

“Mm,” she said. “Your leopard spots are tasty and pretty.”

Some other day he might have laughed in simple joy at her silliness, but her fingers cradled his cock just then. They were gentler than they had to be. They bounced his weight, testing it a little, which could have amused him too. Olivia seemed to enjoy men’s cocks as much as he and her husband did. Given how little bounce her fingers got out of him, amusement didn’t have much of a chance to rise. Ty suspected he was unusually erect. If she found him so, she liked it. Her thumb rubbed pleasure through the steady seep of his arousal. She closed her eyes and shuddered.

“Are you ready?” she asked when she opened them. “I don’t want to rush your first time.”

James had been right to warn him about falling for her. His stomach dropped, and his heart clenched in a seemingly solid ache. He knew heat was driving her, but her question expressed more than lust. Why was she worried that he was ready? Who was he that she should care for him?

“I’m ready,” he said gruffly. “Go ahead and put me where you want me.”

He knew this would spare him going astray in unfamiliar territory. She didn’t seem to mind. She bit her lip and looked down between them, her fingers adjusting his hardness. Sleek hot flesh closed around his crest, slippery-sweet with wetness. Olivia’s hips rocked and she let out a little sound, but she didn’t push over him.

That honor she was leaving for him.

“Go slow for the first stroke,” she said. “Until you get a feel for how I’m made inside.”

Her voice was throaty. He was trembling from head to toe. He got a firmer grip on her bottom and let his brow rest on hers. Then he pressed into his first woman.

He moaned with bliss before he’d gone an inch. The clasp of her walls felt thick, stronger than he’d expected. The flickering movements of her pussy were like a secret she’d reserved for his cock alone. No one else could feel it. The message was his to read or not. Deciphering the code could certainly become rewarding. She drew her breath in sharply as he forged inward, a new gush of cream painting him. He couldn’t help but smile at that.

Her big eyes came up to his as he reached her last limit. He was in her all the way, their quickened pulses seeming to speak to each other.

“I like this,” he whispered, nudging a touch deeper. “The way my cock stretches you, the way only I know how wet you are.”

His words aroused them both. Her tongue snuck over her upper lip. Ty pushed her harder into the tree. A sound tore from her throat that he was pretty sure was pleasure.

Her hands clutched his shoulders from behind. “Please,” she said, her head arching back. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

Ty rubbed his tip on the end of her and groaned. “I don’t want this to race by too fast.”

“No,” she agreed, squirming back at him the same way. “But please make it fast enough.”

Her pleading made him shake, but he drew back to fuck her all the same. Being perfect didn’t matter. She needed this as much as he did. Any sort of motion was going to be good.

He was right about that. They both cried out when he drove in again.

He couldn’t keep it slow, though he tried. She was too hot, too tight, and she rocked herself back at him with an eagerness no man with his killer hard-on could have discouraged.

“Down,” she begged, five fervid minutes into it. “Lay me down on the blanket.”

He’d lay her all right, and lay her and lay her until they both flew apart. He cursed as he turned her, trying to keep up his thick deep pumping while he lowered both their weight. He couldn’t do it. He had to hug her tight against him to get her down safely. She writhed crazily while he did, her pussy squeezing him as strongly as her thighs.

“God,” he breathed in thanks the instant he had her down.

With her braced on the ground, they went at each other twice as hard as before. It was madness: the sensations, the noises, the fact that James and Anso weren’t doing anything but watching. The other men were leaving this all to him, leaving her all to him. He gloried in it, thrilled at giving them a show, yet also enjoying the stupendous selfishness of it.

He couldn’t mind when her fingernails dug into the skin of his back.

“Ty,” she cried. “Ty!”

She was crying his name, and that just plain drove him nuts. He shifted angles, trying to make each inward drive a mallet’s rap on her clitoris. He must have done well enough. In a dozen more strokes she came, her passage fisting him with eye-widening strength. The friction on every inch of him heightened. He’d been close to coming for a while now, but that really cranked up the pressure on his gonads. His balls screamed for him to let what they had inside explode.

A little more, he thought, loving the pain of it. Just a little . . .

She shoved two fingers between his cheeks into his asshole.

Too many nerves suddenly joined forces to bombard him with bliss signals. Ty’s vertebrae seemed to lock, his hips snapping forward to sling him into her. He ejaculated like it was his last chance on earth, the heat rushing from him in hard hot bursts.

“Yes,” she groaned, coming around him again.

His vision flashed bright with pleasure, his sensory perceptions narrowing down to just his penis. No thought. No limbs. Just that part of him staking a very copious claim to the matching part of her. In that moment, he was glad Anso thought he couldn’t get her pregnant. No prophylactic sheath stretched between them. His seed shot straight to her womb. As it did, their energy zinged together, rays penetrating deeper than flesh to join them. He heard himself gasping with delight, and then—like a pair of fingers snapping—they were separate beings again.

His skin tingled intensely all over him.

“Wow,” she said shakily.

He remained jammed in her, supporting himself on straight arms he couldn’t recall locking. His chest was dripping sweat on her, his diaphragm lurching in and out with his bid for air. Olivia petted him as if savoring the feel of both.

“You okay?” he asked. He had to swallow after he did. His throat felt as rough as if he’d been screaming.

“Yes,” she said, then flashed an eyebrow-wagging grin at him. “You?”

He laughed at her humor, liking her—if warily—more by the second. “Your Majesty, I believe you know exactly how incredible I feel.”

Though Olivia rolled to sprawl bonelessly on her stomach, Ty wasn’t worn out by what they’d done. How could he be when one of their tastiest members remained unsatisfied? James hadn’t beat off while he was watching like he had before with Ty.

The possibility that he wasn’t as interested in masturbating if Ty didn’t join him closed Ty’s throat on itself.

“Come here,” he said roughly.

James and Anso had sat cross-legged on the grass for the show. Now James looked at Ty with eyes almost as wide as his wife’s could get.

“I want you,” Ty said, gesturing him closer.

“You can’t.”

“I do. In fact . . .” Ty paused to let inspiration gather. “I’d like to take you with your chest laid across her back. I’d like you to hold onto her while I bugger you nice and hard, just like you deserve. I expect she’ll enjoy the pleasure noises I wring from you if you’re making them an inch away from her ear.”

“Oh God,” James said, which pleased Ty as much as Olivia chuckling into the folded arms she was resting her cheek on.

“I would like it,” she assured her husband. “What Ty described is my idea of triple X.”

As stiff as James was from watching Ty’s performance, he didn’t take much urging. Ty arranged him half on Olivia’s back and half on the blanket with a pillow roll shoved under his hips. Then he proceeded to give him what was assuredly the best ass fucking of his life, given that it was only his second. Ty’s own energy surprised him, but there was no fighting it. He adored taking James over top of Olivia, her female flesh jiggling and jolting with each determined thrust.

James moaned even louder than he had for Ty in the shower, something about Olivia’s presence making it impossible for him to control his responses. Well accustomed to stimulating prostates, Ty pummeled his with unrelenting accuracy. When James came, it was with both hands shoved under Olivia’s breasts and his head flung back on a tigerish groan.

Ty discovered he had more come in him.

At this point, they all looked too disreputable to be seen by anyone. Giggling like teenagers, they crept with their clothes and supplies to wash up in the duck pond. This feature of the park wasn’t as secluded as the Ramble, so they had to be quick. Olivia couldn’t stop laughing as she dressed behind the blanket James and Anso held up for her.

“I’m a sex fiend,” she gasped between snickers. “And I can’t do these damn buttons.”

Ty wasn’t sure what one thing had to do with the other. He only knew he was smiling too.

~

In order to slip unnoticed out of the palace, Ty had borrowed a nondescript family van from one of his household staff. Anso wanted to warn him to take extra good care of it, but had run out of energy. Operating on the theory that violating more protocols hardly mattered, Ty was overlooking James’s lack of a learner’s permit to give him an impromptu lesson at the controls.

They were lurching around in the currents but not too dangerously. Anso and Olivia braced themselves in the separate back compartment, which Ty’s good-natured employee appeared not to have had a chance to clean up. Children’s toys, ranging from infant to reading age, were strewn across the floor, along with what he suspected was Faerie-O’s cereal. Olivia had picked up a teether and was turning it in her hands. Like him, her body language was relaxed but inward turned, as if their physical satisfaction hadn’t quite turned off their worries.

Though Anso told himself mated people didn’t magically become one person, he couldn’t like her being withdrawn from him.

He put his hand on her knee, wishing part of him didn’t feel like he needed to ask permission. Olivia turned her head.

“You’re troubled,” he said.

Her laugh was a breath of air. “I was going to say the same about you.”

You didn’t though, he thought. And I know there’s a reason for that, one I likely don’t want to hear.

She placed her hand on the crux of his neck and shoulder, using gentle fingers to soothe the tendon that had gone tense. Still she didn’t speak. He guessed if she didn’t, he’d have to.

“This isn’t how I pictured being mated,” he confessed, watching her expression for reactions. “I always thought I’d have my wife to myself. I hoped we’d be each other’s bulwark against the storms.”

“Husbands and wives can certainly be that.” Her eyes were soft but her voice was cautious. Threads of light danced across her face through the van’s small portholes. Her skin looked utterly velvety. Anso knew she’d become his definition of beautiful.

“I didn’t mind what we did together today,” he said. “I mean, of course you could tell I liked it. I just . . . I feel off balance. I don’t know how to bond with you the way I want.”

Olivia stroked his hair back along his cheek. “You’re a wonderful man. You choosing to mate me is an honor.”

He was certain she didn’t mean to, but the way she put this increased his uneasiness. He realized he wanted her to say she loved him. They’d known each other two days, and already he craved the words. What if she never said them? How would he feel after years and years?

Though it caused his throat to tighten, he reminded himself that her and her husband’s love had deepened for half their lives.

“I’m rushing you,” he said and looked down between his knees.

She rubbed his back and—God—just that sent sweet waves of warmth through him. “I loved today. You’ve no idea how much I’ll cherish the memory.”

“We’ll make more, Liv.”

She touched his lips and smiled. “I hope so,” she said wistfully.

Chapter Thirteen

WHEN Anso made up his mind to face a necessity, he didn’t drag his feet. The process of throwing a giant celebration was set into motion the moment they returned to the palace and were greeted by Harrison. The stiff-necked butler seemed excited about overseeing the menu and invitations, especially when it became clear the king was giving him carte blanche.

“I’ve seen what you can handle,” Anso assured him as he tried halfheartedly to demur. “Use Belikov for the decorations. She knows how to hammer down a theme while looking like she used a feather. Other than that, you only need to call me if you run into trouble. I trust you to make us look good.”

Olivia liked that us. She sensed it included quite a few people. For that matter, it might have included Harrison.

Anso’s a good boss, she thought, a trait she admired as much as being a good leader. As a boss, Olivia thought she was a smidgen better than James. As a leader, he had her beat hollow. Though Anso hadn’t been king long, she thought he’d excel at both.

Naturally, a party that was meant to impress required more than food and guests. Media access had to be organized. Entertainment too, both magical and mundane. Different venues were discussed, the winner a historic banquet hall in the old section of the city. Ty had a snake’s nest of security to coordinate, including escorts from air to water for foreign guests. That prospect gave Olivia more than one sort of butterfly. Oceana was amazing enough. Who knew what wonders other Pocket territories might provide?

Less thrilling was the super-chic Mrs. Bonn taking charge of her again the next day.

“I swear I’m good for more than looking pretty!” Olivia burst out after the third ridiculously fussy designer pulled his racks in and out of the blue salon.

She didn’t usually lose her temper this way. She thought the cause might be that she’d been separated from . . . well, all three of her men for hours. Last night, she and James had slept in a guest room. Sleeping was all they’d done—and not very well, to judge by her crankiness. That aside, she was an independent woman. She adored James’s company, but she’d never wanted to chain herself to his hip. She’d better get over this sense of attachment, or going home again would be hell.

“Sorry,” she said to Mrs. Bonn, once she’d swallowed the sudden and disturbing lump in her throat.

“Oh that’s all right,” the older woman said. “Compared to some of my clients, you’ve been a saint. Wereseal males—especially the aristocrats—can be funny about females. They’re a little frightened of us. We seem safer up on pedestals all dressed up.”

“My husband ought to know better,” Olivia grumped.

“Of course he should,” Mrs. Bonn said so caressingly she startled a laugh from Olivia.

“You are good,” she said. “Like butterscotch and crumpets.”

Mrs. Bonn smiled, pleased to have her talents appreciated. Then her smile turned conspiratorial. “I have an idea, which might be brilliant. There’s a royal storehouse of gowns former queens have worn. Some of the older fashions were beautifully simple. Even more important, some of those queens were tremendously popular. Depending on what you choose, you could make a statement without saying a word.”

“I might like that,” Olivia said. “Unless the dresses are museum pieces. Then I’d be worried about spilling.”

Mrs. Bonn tipped her head sideways. “You do realize you’re queen, yes? If you spill wine on a priceless gown, no one’s going to say boo.” At Olivia’s look of horror, she laughed softly. “It won’t matter, Your Majesty. Your husband can afford to send a boatload of dresses to the magical dry cleaner.”

Her husband. The phrase sounded far too normal, considering the woman wasn’t talking about James.

“Now,” said Mrs. Bonn, clearly thinking the matter settled, “let’s make an appointment for your hair.”

“You aren’t going to do it yourself?”

Mrs. Bonn tapped her nose and grinned. “I’m multi-talented, it’s true, but I recently met this three-quarter faerie who can work miracles.”

~

Olivia had consulted with Mrs. Bonn in private. When the faerie arrived later that afternoon, the guards Nico and Mark accompanied him into the largest of guest bathrooms, where a stylist’s chair had been set in front of one sink and mirror. This seemed a case of chauvinism, though it might have been warranted. Up close, the faerie was lovely enough to make her lightheaded. And he smelled better than chocolate.

Slim as a reed but broad-shouldered, his silky flowing hair was silver. His eyes were a stormy gray, his nose sharp enough to etch glass. His lips were almost as pretty as Ty’s, but it was hard to decide in what way they were less. Overall, his beauty stunned. Notably, he was the first person she’d seen wearing glasses. The frames were narrow rectangles with glittering scarlet rims. Maybe she imagined it, but the glitters looked like they were swirling.

“They’re spelled,” he said, noting her attention. “I can see how you’ll look in a style before I work it up.”

“Handy,” she said, embarrassed that her voice came out breathy.

This was a hairdresser, probably not highly ranked in his race, but she was quivering like a schoolgirl meeting a movie star.

“My name is Lajos,” he said, holding out a gleaming long-fingered hand.

“Halt!” Nico barked. He and his brother had drawn their weapons and were pointing them at Lajos. “You don’t touch the queen, faerie.”

“It’s all right,” Olivia said, seeing how startled the slender hairdresser was. “He was just—”

“No,” Nico interrupted. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but this one knows he’s not allowed to touch you without putting on gloves first.”

“He could enchant you,” Mark explained. “Faeries carry mojo in their skin.”

Fortunately, Lajos was more amused than offended. “I’m only here to arrange her hair. And in case you didn’t look up my name in the Magical Registry, I’m not a full blood fae.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re harmless,” Nico growled.

Mark holstered what looked like a laser pistol from a sci-fi movie, then held out two elbow-length white gloves. Lajos took them, pulling them on finger by finger with an archly suggestive smile. By the time he’d finished the reverse striptease, Mark was flushed and sweating and gripping his gun again in both hands. He was breathing more deeply than Olivia thought he should, like he’d run up a flight of stairs. It was rude of her to notice, but the guard also appeared to be sporting a large hard-on.

Olivia wondered why she wasn’t reacting the same way. Lajos did make her heart beat faster, and his glamour certainly dazzled her, but she wasn’t physically attracted to him as she was to Anso and James and Ty.

Perhaps bonding with them gave her immunity?

As if he knew this, the faerie’s smile when he turned to her was merely pleasant. “Forgive me for indulging myself. Now and then I tire of anti-faerie prejudice.”

Olivia hadn’t known there was such a thing. Nico wasn’t feeling guilty about it, to go by his eye roll.

“Will you sit, Your Majesty?” Lajos asked politely, swiveling the chair for her.

Olivia slid into it, feeling like she did when interviewing a job candidate who wasn’t giving her enough to go by. Were Nico and Mark bigots, or did Lajos have a martyr complex? People could have little chips on their shoulders and still be competent employees. Then again, did it matter? Lajos was here to style her hair. If Mrs. Bonn said he worked miracles, wasn’t that likely to be true?

Lajos fluffed her waves across her shoulders with his elegant white-gloved hands. A tingle crept up her neck at the light caress. “You are beautiful,” he murmured. “King Anso is a lucky man to be able to add you to his treasures.”

Lajos’s glasses magnified his eyes, their storminess seeming to deepen as she looked into them in the mirror. Like a treasure was exactly how Anso had treated her today, one he had to shine up before she could earn points for him. She marveled that this fact hadn’t occurred to her until now.

Before she could puzzle out the reason, Lajos began to brush her hair. The steady swoosh of the strokes immediately relaxed her. “You’re fortunate your husband is understanding. Most men would balk at sharing a prize like you.”

“I’m my own woman,” she replied. She meant it to be a statement. Instead, she sounded petulant and unsure.

“Of course you are.” His smooth tenor voice was more comforting than Mrs. Bonn’s. “I knew that the moment we met. No one could keep you prisoner. Or prevent you from holding to your vows.”

It was a strangely personal thing to say. Olivia glanced at the guards to see if they’d noticed. They were standing straight as ramrods with their backs against the Edwardian tile, their eyes forward and unmoving—giving her privacy, she guessed. If they weren’t alarmed, chances were everything was fine.

“Do you have family back home?” Lajos asked in his deliciously soothing voice. Listening to it made her feel as if she were half asleep.

“A daughter.”

The corners of Lajos’s mouth turned down, and hers automatically echoed them. “How sad. You must miss her terribly. And she must miss her mother.”

“She must,” Olivia agreed . . . or tried to.

The sadness inside her must have been waiting for a chance to get out. How could she have thought, even for a moment, that it would be hard to leave this place? She was a horrible mother. And a horrible wife. Almost before she knew it, she was sobbing too hard to speak.

“There, there,” said the beautiful faerie hairdresser, offering her a nice cool hankie to weep into. “Mustn’t ruin your looks with tears. I’m sure you’ll find a solution to all your troubles soon.”

~

James had a deep dark secret: He liked wearing tuxedoes. He especially liked it when they fit as well as the one Harrison had nabbed from Anso’s closet so the half-elf royal tailor could alter it fast for him.

James’s knowledge that this cloth had lain against Anso’s skin gave him a charge he wasn’t yet easy with.

Pushing that from his mind, he turned sideways in front of the full-length mirror in the guest room’s combination closet and dressing room. The jacket part of the tux draped the back of a chair, allowing James to check the fit of the rest. Being mated to the king and Ty had changed him. He could see as well as feel the difference in his body. His abs were flat as a board beneath the silver eel cummerbund, his biceps maybe an inch bigger. He’d been in good shape for his age before. Now he looked nearly as formidable as Ty and Anso—and maybe the only difference was that they trained harder. Hell, even the sprinkling of gray hair he’d had was gone.

The elation that rose at this told him he was shallower than he’d known. His only regret was wondering how they’d explain the changes to friends and family. Contact lenses would cover their eyes, and he could pretend he’d dyed his hair, since—apparently—he was vain enough. The rest, though . . .

He pulled a twisted face at his reflection. Would people believe they’d taken a extra relaxing spa vacation?

He sighed lengthily, the gust of air making his shoulders hitch up and fall. Part of him, possibly a not-small part, didn’t want to go home. He adored his parents, and he liked Olivia’s pretty well. If they failed to return, it would cause them pain at a time in their lives they should have been enjoying. Some of their friends he’d miss, but Olivia had always been his favorite companion. Though he was proud of the business they’d built together, he’d leave it in a heartbeat for the sort of fun they were having here.

He knew Violet could take over. In truth, he wouldn’t be surprised if, with her at the helm, Forster Media became a world-class firm. Their daughter had the vision and smarts for anything.

Which brought him to the one insurmountable obstacle to staying. James loved Violet differently than he loved Olivia, but he loved her as much—in part because he knew how desperately she needed the unconditional love he and Olivia gave her. Violet could be difficult to get close to. She was prickly and passionate and God help the man who thought he could soften her. She’d have issued that Ellice woman a sharp smackdown—with her fists, if need be. She wouldn’t have worried what happened to her for doing it either, not if it helped someone she respected. James liked to think Violet was a true warrior princess.

Smiling wryly, he lifted the tuxedo jacket off the chair and slid his arms into it. Fastening the single button completed the James Bond effect. He assured himself he’d decided. They weren’t staying in Oceana. This was just an adventure, the likes of which he hadn’t imagined existed, physically or otherwise. James would work his homoerotic interests out of his system, and then they’d go home, hopefully leaving as little damage as possible behind them. If he’d miss Ty for more than the blistering sex—and maybe Anso as well—he’d get over it. Sometimes in life you couldn’t have everything.

He glanced at the door to the fancy closet, wondering how long Olivia and that hairdresser would be shut up in the bathroom. He wanted to see what she was wearing, the incomparable Mrs. Bonn having been secretive about it. He wanted Olivia to see him too. She never failed to coo over him in a monkey suit. He realized he hadn’t seen her in hours. That was too long. They were in and out of each other’s company all the time most days. On the few occasions that they weren’t, it made him feel off kilter.

He hoped he wouldn’t go through the same discomfort when they parted from Anso and Ty.

Abruptly losing patience, he opened the closet door.

“Liv,” he called. “How much gilding does your lily really need?”

He stepped into the bedroom, grinning as he anticipated her scolding him. After a moment, Olivia and her entourage trailed out from the big bathroom. If his eyes went to the faerie first, that was only because the guy was sparkling.

He also smelled incredible, like flower shop baked in a chocolate bun. His hair was a silvery blond that floated around a heart-stopping narrow face. The glasses he wore added charm, but James’s cock behaved itself. This reassured him. He didn’t need to be attracted to every man he met.

“Hey,” he said to be polite before turning his gaze to Olivia.

She was a different kind of heart-stopper.

“Boy,” he said, “with an extra helping of wow.”

Her drapey gown was a blue so dark it probably could be called midnight. Grecian in style, braided silver cords bound the dress between and beneath her breasts. The dark silk fell from there to her feet, where a banding of silver Vitul eels puddled over gladiator style sandals.

“You’re a goddess,” he said, letting his gaze run up her again. Her new eyes looked amazing with the navy, like sapphires set on fire. Her deep red hair was cool too, piled in gleaming waves on top of her head with an array of pearl pins.

“I could fix your hair as well,” the hairdresser offered, his trendy blue glasses winking. “Slick it back so you look as good as her.”

For a second the offer tempted. Then James had to laugh. “No one could look as good as her. I think I’d better muddle on as I am.”

“It wouldn’t take but a minute,” the faerie said.

Olivia drew James’s attention by rubbing a spot between her eyebrows. She only did that when she was getting a headache. Come to think of it, she wasn’t acting like herself. She hadn’t said a word about his tux, or blushed when he complimented her. She looked like something had put her in a daze.

“Maybe you should go,” James said gently to the faerie. “I think my wife needs a breather. You did a good job. Do I need to tip you?”

The question seemed to startled the hairdresser. “My fee has been taken care of.”

This was lucky, because James belatedly remembered he’d been kidnapped without a cent on him.

“Well, all right then.” James strode to the bedroom door and opened it. “Thanks so much for your time.”

The faerie bowed a trifle stiffly, but he left. James looked back at Olivia and her pair of guards. The men seemed as out of it as she was.

“Jeesh,” James said. “Was that so boring you all went comatose?”

Olivia sat on a chair, her hands resting limply in her lap. “What?” she asked confusedly.

James laughed and went to kiss her forehead. That hairdresser must have nattered on but good. “Thanks for looking out for her,” he said to Nico and Mark.

“Er. Yes.” Nico shook himself alert. “We’ll . . . be in the hall if you need us again.”

Once the door was shut behind them, Olivia turned to him.

“We can’t forget,” she said.

“Forget what, sweetheart?”

“That we’re only pretending to like them, lulling them into complacence until we get a chance to escape.”

She seemed agitated. James crouched down in front of her. “Is everything okay? I know your heart, honey. You couldn’t have slept with Ty and Anso if you didn’t care for them some.”

“I won’t be a bad mother. Or a bad wife.”

“You couldn’t be either,” he soothed, wrapping his hands over hers. “We are going back. We knew that from the beginning.”

Olivia’s reminder wasn’t that different from what he’d been thinking to his reflection. Agreeing with her shouldn’t have made his stomach twist.

“Soon,” she said, nodding firmly, her gaze hanging onto his. “I’m sure we won’t have to wait long for our opening.”

~

Making up her mind on difficult subjects usually calmed Olivia. This evening, she felt more out of sorts.

At her request, James had left her alone in the guest bedroom. She lay carefully on her back on the floor-level mattress, doing her best not to crease her nice outfit. Her dress was exquisite, and she knew she looked nice in it. It was true she didn’t live for parties, but she’d have plenty of people looking out for her at this one. Nothing should have troubled her. She wanted to go home. If her gut was correct, and the chance to do that came quickly, she shouldn’t feel anything but happy.

She turned her wedding ring around her finger, a gesture she hadn’t made in a while. The faintest whiff of cocoa and carnations teased her nose.

Happy, she thought. Soon James and she would be as happy as they were before they came here.

A rap sounded on the door and Anso walked in. He was dressed for the celebration in a crisp ice blue uniform, the sort that made women think a wrinkle wouldn’t dare come near it. A handful of ribbons decorated the front, so she supposed he must have served in Oceana’s armed services at some point. Olivia drank in the sight of him despite her intent to let him go. He carried his straight tall figure with an endearing hint of hesitance. His beautiful worried eyes enlivened his kind face.

He smiled as he looked down at her. “You chose Queen Beatrice’s gown. She built Our Lady of the Waves and donated it to the church.”

“That’s what Mrs. Bonn told me. She said Beatrice also founded a school for music that children still attend today.”

“There’s a famous portrait of her in their lobby wearing this dress.” Anso sat beside her on the low bed. She felt so good with him close to her, especially when he took her hand and pulled it onto his thigh. “James said you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m fine. Just a little nervous about spending the night in a crowd of people I don’t know.”

“We’ll look out for you,” he said.

Unable not to, she sat up. Anso stroked his fingers around her face. “I’d like to give you a gift.”

“A gift . . .”

“It’s traditional for a man to give one to his mate. Under the circumstances, this one is appropriate.”

“It’s not a sardine, is it?” she blurted, making him laugh. She hadn’t meant to joke, but she couldn’t deny she liked amusing him.

“It’s not a sardine.” He pulled a small silk bundle from his breast pocket and laid it in her hand. Olivia opened it curiously.

A ring in the shape of a sea dragon lay inside. Tiny rubies glowed in its eyes, and its half-folded wings were so detailed they seemed ready to lift off. Enchanted, Olivia stroked the wings wonderingly. Miniscule gold claws marked their finials.

“My ancestor Conjugus gave this ring to his queen. It’s designed to fit on your middle finger. It won’t interfere with your wedding ring.”

When Olivia looked up, the surface of his deep blue eyes glimmered with emotion.

“You put it on,” she whispered, too tight-throated to speak loudly.

He slid the dragon onto her finger, its curly tail cleverly formed into the band. “There. That looks just right on you.”

His voice was choked up too. He’d dropped his eyes and wasn’t lifting them again. This is wrong, she thought. He deserves to be loved.

He patted her hand and started to pull away.

Olivia caught his face and kissed him as gently as she could. He returned the kiss the same way. His arms slid around her, his head tilting to the side. His tongue caressed hers, more tenderness in the exchange than sex. His lips were silk against hers.

The kiss ended as gently as it began.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said softly. “Whenever you’re ready to love me back, that will be all right.

“I’ll never be the only one who loves you,” seemed the best thing she could say in return.

He liked the answer, some of the melancholy leaving his eyes as his faint smile grew. “You,” he said, “are as wise as you are loyal.”

~

James concluded the old Medici would have felt at home in this banquet hall. Lit by thousands of beeswax tapers instead of electric lights, the place was half medieval fortress, half Renaissance palazzo. Thanks to the number of foreign guests, its interior was air-filled. Many round black-clothed tables filled the hall itself, which towered to a dramatic painted ceiling two stories above their heads.

“Saint” Poseidon and his angels cavorted in the murals there.

Belikov, the event’s designer, had leaned unabashedly on the mini-dragon theme. Huge museum-quality tapestries depicted the city’s mascots in presumably famous scenes from Oceana’s history. Ice sculptures were carved in the shape of dragons, ditto for napkin rings. The hors d’oeuvres, which were almost too pretty too eat, offered shrimp (the Meimeyo’s favorite snack) in more combinations than James could count. The twelve-man orchestra in the balcony loft, along with all of the servers, was dressed in Meimeyo black and gold.

James wouldn’t call this decorating with a feather, but the overall effect was striking.

He munched on a plate of shrimp things as he wandered the chattering crowd. He’d gotten separated from the royal party early on—not that it mattered. Olivia and Anso were the couple people wanted to see tonight. James didn’t mind. There was plenty of sightseeing for him to do. He wanted to soak up everything he could while he had the chance.

A pale handsome man caught his attention by leering at him from beside a tall torchier. When James got a better look at his smile, he couldn’t restrain a double take. Those were fangs the man was flashing. He must be an actual vampire.

James almost turned to look again when someone elbowed his sleeve. “Better not,” said a pleasant voice. “Vampires take staring as an invitation to make your acquaintance.”

James was being addressed by a reasonably tall, thirtyish fellow with medium brown hair. His clothes were shabbier than most of the people’s here, but he looked nice in them. His eyes were gray, his nose crooked at the bridge. All in all, he had the sort of face that made men and women comfortable.

“I won’t offer to shake,” said the man, holding up his wine glass and plate to excuse himself, “but I’m the mayor of Resurrection.”

“Pleased to meet you,” James said. “I’m—”

“I know,” said the mayor.

James had the disconcerting impression that the mayor knew a good deal more than his name. On closer inspection, the man’s eyes weren’t gray. They were silver. They were difficult to look away from, but James decided he ought to.

More than vampires might be able to spell him with their gaze.

“So,” he said, resisting an impulse to clear his throat. “Resurrection is the Pocket city outside of Manhattan.”

“That’s right. Because we’re drylanders, we don’t get many chances to hobnob with wereseals.”

What are you besides a drylander? James wondered, but it seemed rude to ask. Not a mundane, he didn’t think.

“Those are werewolves,” said the mayor, gesturing with his wineglass toward a group of laughing men. “They traveled with me from Resurrection. You wouldn’t believe how antsy they were in the submarine.” Seeming to enjoy playing guide, he pointed at another table. “Those are the doughty naturalists from the Oceanic Wildlife Patrol. You can tell they’re not used to dressing up by how often they tug their collars. And over there, as you can see for yourself, are the creme de la creme of Oceana’s fae.”

The faeries were impossible to miss. Because they all sat together, their combined glow formed a nimbus around the group, as if they were one big candle flame. Though they drew attention by simple virtue of their sparkling beauty, they seemed reserved compared to the other guests, who were gradually loosening up enough to mingle outside their own races.

“Do they have wings?” James took the opportunity to ask.

“They do,” the mayor confirmed. “They keep them folded close to their backs most times, so as not to spoil the fit of their clothes. And for modesty, I gather, like Victorian women not letting down their hair. They extend their wings at home, of course, and they’re quite dazzling.”

“You’ve been to Faerie?”

“I have. It’s a fascinating land but not as . . . Elysian as many folks presume.”

James had a zillion questions then. Unfortunately for his hope of having them answered, the orchestra began to play.

“Ah,” said the mayor, gazing up at the balcony. “This is a lovely waltz. I must find the best perch to watch the dancing.”

He drifted away, leaving James to stare after him. As he did, he spotted Anso’s cousenemy, Lady Ellice. Barring evidence that she’d conspired to release the Meimeyo, he assumed she’d had to be invited. She stood among a group of gorgeously garbed royals, their gowns and cummerbunds as bright as peacocks. Her face was a haughty mask, the rigid pride of her posture easy to interpret. It galled her to attend this celebration honoring not just Anso’s mating to someone else but Olivia’s rescue of the Meimeyo. Instead of being cast aside by popular demand for bringing a curse with her, Olivia was the city’s new darling. Lady Ellice and her clique looked as standoffish as the pureblood fae, and appeared to be having as little fun. James smiled to himself at that. Ruining the bitch’s evening was the least they could do.

And then something seemed to entertain them. They put their heads together and whispered behind their hands, their exotically colored eyes turning as one in the direction of the dance floor. Malicious glee radiated from all of them.

Curious, James turned to seek the object of their attention. Somewhat to his shock, he found Ty standing at the edge of the gracefully whirling dancers. A plump young woman in an unfortunate ruffled orange gown had turned her head sharply away from him. The disapproving look on her face said he’d offended her. Ty’s cheeks were swiftly going red, his spine as stiff as Ellice’s had been.

Her mood was clearly improving. She let out a burst of laughter that turned more than one pair of eyes to her.

“Well,” she said just loud enough to hear. “Looks like even the rejects are beginning to reject Otari.”

~

Ty was having a very peculiar evening. His comm unit was in his pocket in case emergencies arose, but for the most part he was free to enjoy himself. Generally speaking, he liked parties. There always seemed to be a hookup or three to make. He’d told Anso not long ago that he was one of six on Ty’s dance card. The other five were here tonight. Four had approached him with salacious offers, none of which he’d been the least enticed to accept.

Interestingly, they’d been suggesting private assignations. Once upon a time, being seen to share the favors of the future king’s best friend would be half the point. Ty guessed his cachet had lost its glitter now that James Forster was the frontrunner to join the king’s triad.

Cam Spence had actually had the nerve to ask if Ty thought Olivia’s husband swung his bat both ways. Ty had advised him not to attempt running those bases.

“He’s married,” he’d said. “Outsiders care about those things.”

“They don’t care on their TV shows,” Cam had retorted snippily.

And then Ty had spotted poor Priscilla Bowes near the dance floor. Per usual, she was horribly dressed and even more horribly forlorn. The Bowes, while aristocrats, had committed the unforgivable sin of losing nearly all their money in the stock market. They scraped invitations where they could, Anso being a reliable soft touch. Once Ty had established Priscilla wasn’t going to develop a crush on him, he’d made a point of talking to her when their paths crossed. The Otari knew a thing or two about social pariahdom, after all.

He’d never asked her to dance before, but tonight she’d been gazing at the waltzing with so much longing he’d thought: oh why not?

He hadn’t anticipated being given a sharp setdown.

“Don’t make it worse,” she’d hissed angrily. “I’m enough of a leper as it is.”

He couldn’t remember flushing this intensely in public since the days when his drunk of a father still left the house. To pluck the pearl from the oyster, his ears were sufficiently sharp to catch Ellice’s comment too.

His hands fisted up in knots, stuck at his sides with no one to punch. They had people searching for the link between Ellice and the Meimeyos’ release from their roost, but thus far they’d come up empty. Ty was really looking forward to that no longer being true. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, fuming impotently, until a shoulder jostled his.

“I’d ask you to dance,” said the male who’d joined him, “but it doesn’t look like men do that here. Plus, you probably wouldn’t let me lead.”

Ty’s cheeks blazed even hotter as he turned to James. The surge of blood wasn’t all embarrassment. Some was plain old relief at being joined by . . . well, by a friend was what it felt like.

“Beer?” James asked, handing him an icy bottle. “I didn’t recognize the brand so hopefully it’s not foul. That ruffled-gown girl doesn’t know what she’s missing, by the way. You’re a better man than most I know.”

He said this as Ellice had, just loud enough to carry over nearby conversations. James twisted the cap off his drink, clinked it against Ty’s, and took a swallow. He choked a little as it went down.

“Hm,” he said, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. “This is so not beer.”

“Cider,” Ty said, finding himself smiling. “Strictly nonalcoholic.”

“Then I guess I’ll be keeping my head tonight.”

Ty put his hand on James’s broad shoulder and squeezed it. Suddenly he felt all right, like no one’s opinion mattered as long as the people he respected thought well of him. The attraction that had refused to stir for his old partners flared to rich hot life. He wanted this man—and Anso and his wife, of course, but for the first time in his life, Ty’s blood and bone comprehended the concept of enough.

If those three wanted him, he’d be satisfied. If they loved him, his heart would know peace at last.

The idea felt extraordinary unfolding inside of him. Was he kidding himself? Should he be frightened for the risk to his heart? He didn’t think he was. His soul seemed to tilt inside him, then settle into a new and steadier position. This was the meaning of being mated, this sense that you were becoming the real you.

“What?” James asked, because Ty was grinning goofily.

“Nothing. Suddenly this party is looking up.”

“Damn straight,” James said, then gasped like a gunshot. “Holy crap. Is that a unicorn?”

“Newscaster,” Ty replied. “She’s popular with the drylanders.”

The equine journalist and her camera crew were setting up equipment near the dais, an extra clatter being provided by her hooves. Ty knew she’d pre-arranged to interview Anso and his queen.

“Olivia won’t be able to say a word,” James predicted. “Jeesh, I wish you guys had warned her.”

“You could join her,” Ty said. “Moral support and all.”

“Will you be all right back here? Why don’t you come with me?”

Warmth expanded through Ty’s chest at his concern. “I’ll be all right. Olivia isn’t the only one who’d rather avoid reporters.”

James touched his upper arm. To anyone watching it wouldn’t have seemed a romantic gesture, but to Ty it felt like one.

“See you in a bit,” James said.

Ty was pretty sure he meant it.

Chapter Fourteen

OLIVIA’S headache was getting worse. The interview with the talking unicorn hadn’t helped. Caught unprepared to be speaking to a horse, she’d been reduced to the sort of stammering that hadn’t plagued her since she’d met James. The lady horse had been nice about it, focusing on Anso after her first two questions to Olivia bombed. Olivia hoped she hadn’t said something stupid or, worse, something insulting. The last thing Anso needed was for his queen to appear species insensitive.

A splinter of pain jabbed behind her left eye. No, she thought. You’re not Anso’s queen. You have to stop thinking of yourself like that. She closed her eyes to try to get the jabbing to knock it off.

“Sweetie,” Anso murmured, pulling her hand into his under the tablecloth. They were seated on one side of a table at the head of the banquet hall, as if they were ye olde royalty. All around the room, candles were being snuffed in preparation for a performance. The darkness should have eased her discomfort, but only Anso’s hand did that. Seated on her other side, James clasped her fingers too.

She returned both grips too tightly.

Floor lights replaced the candles as traditional Hawaiian music, or something very like, started up on the balcony. A line of half naked women, each one prettier than the last, swished their hips in mesmerizing figure eights as they danced into the cleared area. They wore teeny-tiny sea grass skirts . . . and not a whole lot else, though their long black hair covered their breasts somewhat. Their green eyes glowed, their hands drawing graceful hula-girl type patterns. Their fantastically shapely legs twinkled with what appeared to be sequins.

Oh my gosh, Olivia thought, momentarily forgetting her headache. I wonder if they’re mermaids.

She gasped as the dancers’ nimble fingertips began leaving light trails behind them. Their hands were literally drawing pictures in the air. Three blush roses appeared between them, with three bright green ribbons to twine their stems together. Olivia concluded this was meant to represent the bonds between her and Anso and James: three blooms for the three of them. She glanced down the table to Ty, who was on James’s other side. He leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly as he wagged one foot to the rhythm. Anso hadn’t broken the news of their quadruple bond, perhaps because he thought his people had enough to absorb. Olivia wished he’d decided differently. Ty looked wry rather than unhappy, as if the omission neither surprised nor offended him.

She was offended for him. Perhaps she was being rash, but he had as much right to call himself her mate as the other two.

I have it in me to love them all, she thought.

The pain that stabbed through her then stole her breath. Olivia had never experienced a headache like this. Every pin that held up her hair felt as if it were being nail-gunned into her skull. Her vision blurred, and her skin went icy. A whispering swirled in her ears that came from no one.

“Excuse me,” she said shakily to Anso. “I’m going to sneak out to the bathroom.”

He nodded, not wanting to interrupt the performers, and gestured for a nearby guard to accompany her. Olivia didn’t care as long as she got somewhere quiet fast. Fortunately, the ladies lounge was close by. The guard checked the room, found no one inside but a towel maid, and told her he’d wait outside for her.

Feeling slightly better already, Olivia splashed her clammy cheeks with water. Her arms trembled as she braced them on the sink’s swirling onyx counter.

“Towel?” the uniformed maid offered.

Olivia buried her face in it, wanting to hide like this for the rest of the night. “I don’t suppose you have an aspirin,” she said into the soft cotton.

“I have something much better,” the attendant replied.

Olivia lowered the towel to look at her. Before you could say Venus on the half shell her headache disappeared. “What do you have?”

The towel maid pulled a key and holder from her frilly apron pocket. “Convince your husband to leave the hall. The guard will probably come as well, but we’ll make sure he’s distracted. Continue along this corridor until you see the door marked ‘Deliveries.’ Go down the stairs to the two-man sub waiting at the dock. This key will start the engine. The vehicle is programmed to drive you safely through the Helike Tunnel. From there, you should be able to swim home.”

“You’re a friend of Lady Ellice,” Olivia exclaimed softly. “She wants us out of here.”

“I’m your friend,” the maid corrected. “Security here is laxer than in the palace. You and your husband will never have a better chance to escape than this.”

Olivia stared at the shiny key the woman was holding out. Part of her wanted to snatch it, wanted her and James to go back to their old life and forget this world existed.

“Take it,’ said the maid. “See your daughter again.”

Those were the magic words. Olivia took the key.

~

The dance was still going on when Olivia slipped back to the banquet hall. Mermaids, it seemed, weren’t known for brevity. Unlike their audience, Olivia had never been so alert in her life. Every hair on her body seemed charged with energy. She was uncharacteristically certain she could pull off this subterfuge. She put her hands on Anso’s shoulders from behind and leaned down to his ear.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I’m not feeling any better. Do you think James and the guard could drive me back to the palace?”

Anso craned around to her. “Would you like me to come as well? If you’re truly ill . . .”

“No. You’ve got all these foreign dignitaries here, and it’s only a bad headache. Please offer your guests my apologies.”

“What’s wrong?” Ty leaned around James to whisper.

Shit, Olivia thought, because she just knew what Anso was going to do.

“Olivia’s unwell,” he said. “Why don’t you and the guard take her and James to the palace? Make sure they arrive safely.”

“Sure,” Ty said, twisting out of his seat without rising all the way. “Come on, James. Let’s scoot out before the lights come up.”

Olivia tried to look wan but grateful as Ty and James each took an elbow to escort her from the hall. She hoped to hell Lady Ellice’s co-conspirators were up for distracting Ty and the guard. She couldn’t even tell James what was happening so he could help manipulate events. The way he was patting her hand was really frustrating.

They were going the wrong way down the corridor, toward the grand lobby where they’d come in instead of past the bathrooms. Should Olivia pretend she needed to throw up? Didn’t people do that sometimes when they had migraines?

A lone woman ran down the carpet in a panic. She wasn’t the same woman from the ladies lounge, but she wore a maid’s uniform.

“Help,” she said, grabbing Ty and the guard’s arms. “Please, you two know first aid, don’t you?”

“We’re on duty,” Ty said, but not unsympathetically.

The woman clutched at her hair. “It’s the director of the mermaids’ dancing troupe. She’s gone into early labor back in the dressing room. She’s having her baby this second.”

Now that was a story, Olivia thought admiringly. It must have been believable. She noticed Ty and the guard had dropped their hands from their holsters.

“Go,” Olivia urged. “James and I will wait here.”

“Return to the banquet hall,” Ty said. “You can grab another guard at the door.”

“We will,” Olivia said, already moving in that direction.

They kept moving in that direction until Ty and the guard disappeared down a cross hall.

“Hurry,” Olivia said, dropping her halting manner to grab James’s wrist and pull him along faster.

“What the hell, Olivia?”

“Sh,” she said. “I’ll explain when we get there.

She hurried as fast as she could in a floor-length gown until they reached the “Deliveries” door. A metal staircase with peeling paint led down behind it, the scent of briny water washing strongly up the steps. Olivia hiked her dress to her knees and ran down it.

“Is this it?” James whispered, clattering just as swiftly behind her. “Did you find a way out?”

“There.” She pointed to a watery loading dock where a single vehicle was moored at a concrete post. The dark blue sub was shaped like a lozenge instead of a gondola. Because it bobbed half in, half out of the water, she supposed it was filled with air. Smaller than the family van Ty had used to sneak them into the Q Gardens, it had a similar working class feel to it. Olivia dug the key from her cleavage where she’d stashed it. “It has autopilot. We can take it almost all the way home.”

James stopped her before she depressed the button that unlocked the sub’s door. “Olivia, where did you get that key?”

“I didn’t steal it. The maid in the ladies lounge offered it to me.”

“A perfect stranger gave the new wereseal queen the keys to her vehicle.”

“Well, I’m sure she works for Lady Ellice, but honestly, James, who else is going to help us?”

“Lady Ellice! You know she has an ulterior motive for doing this.”

“Of course she does. She wants to be queen instead of me.”

“What if she wants to kill us? What if that sub is rigged to blow up?”

“We’ll check it for bombs before we get in. Come on, James. She didn’t kill the Meimeyo, and her plan would have come off better if she had. If she balked at that, why would she murder human beings?”

James’s face was flushed with anger, but—as ever—he was willing to hear out a reasonable argument.

“I guess she wouldn’t,” he conceded. “I just hate going along with anything that woman wants.”

“It’s not like Anso will marry her even with us gone.” Olivia assured herself he wouldn’t. The king wasn’t that stupid. “This is our chance, James. We might not get another. Not before we’re completely embroiled in Anso’s life.”

James scowled at her.

“I know,” she said softly. “Being here hasn’t been all bad, but we need to go back to our own world.”

“Fine.” He thrust his hand out, palm up. “Give me the key. If we’re running away, I’m driving.”

~

James disliked almost everything about this escape but didn’t feel he could object. Maybe it wasn’t his gut saying the opportunity was too good to be true. Maybe slightly lower parts were trying to stop him. Olivia wanted to leave, and she had to come first with him.

He couldn’t deny they’d been getting embroiled here, though he did dig in his heels about deactivating the autopilot after they’d emerged from the hall’s tunnel.

“James!” Olivia said when she saw him switch off the toggle.

“I know how to drive this thing,” he said, setting his jaw stubbornly. “And I can find the Helike Tunnel. There are signs for it on every damn corner. Plus, if Anso’s cousenemy is planning to kill us, what better way than to have the escape vehicle she supplied drive us exactly where she pleases?”

“Fine.” Olivia flopped back in the co-pilot seat. She rubbed her temples, so maybe she did have a headache. “Up there is the turn for the grand canal thingy.”

James turned the sub the opposite way.

“James!”

“I’m not taking the obvious route. This way we can avoid police patrols.” Privately, he doubted they’d run across any. Most of the city’s cops would be posted near the banquet hall for the big shindig. He couldn’t help it if he wanted one last look around. Oceana was amazing, and he’d hardly seen it at all.

The streets were different at night, though lit well enough to navigate. He noticed traffic above them and remembered he didn’t have to cling to ground level. Once he’d climbed, the bird’s eye view of the city was beautiful—like flying over a metropolis in a plane.

From above, Oceana’s street grid formed a spiral, loosely resembling a nautilus shell. So many lights twinkled under them, so many exotic little lives, none of which he’d encounter now.

“It’s pretty,” Olivia said grudgingly, her fingertips pressed to the side window. She was pretty, his soulmate and partner.

“I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry to go, but I’m not sorry to be with you.”

“James.” Her voice was soft with emotion, her new blue eyes glimmering. “You’ve always been my heart.”

James jerked back as a quick black shape darted past their windshield. “Shit,” he said, his pulse pounding in his throat. “What was that?”

“A fish?”

It was a big damn fish. The shape darted at them again. This time it was spitting fire. James jammed his foot on the brake.

“Oh my God,” Olivia said. “It’s the last missing Meimeyo.”

It was. As their sub-compact sub drifted to a stop, the mini-dragon landed on its hood. It screeched at them, its three-foot long leathery wings flapping threateningly. James wished they’d found some other way to settle the question of whether dragons could breathe fire.

“Uh,” Olivia said, shrinking back instinctively. “This might sound stupid, but do you suppose it doesn’t want us to leave?”

The mini-dragon hissed fire at them again, the heat of the combustion leaving a black spot on the thankfully reinforced window glass. James didn’t know what to make of this.

“Maybe it’s angry we didn’t take it home with its nest mates.”

The dragon stomped on the hood with each of its rear clawed feet, reminding James of a child throwing a tantrum. One of its front paws threw something at the windshield, which hit it with a clink.

Olivia leaned forward in her seat. “That’s one of the diamond hairpins I wore for Anso’s speech! How on earth did it get that?”

The oddest sensation came over James, like every millimeter of his skin was tingling on the inside.

“Olivia,” he said slowly. “Take the pins from your hair.”

“Honestly, James, what good will that do?”

James removed the pearls himself, then stuffed them in the glove compartment for good measure.

Olivia glared at him when he stopped her from pulling it back open. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe, but look at the Meimeyo.”

The mini-dragon was sitting calmly on the nose of the sub. When it saw it had their attention, it chittered like it was talking and raised its gleaming black and gold wings. This time the display wasn’t threatening.

“I think it wants us to follow it.”

“James . . .”

“I know,” he said, “but I think it does. This place isn’t ordinary, and neither are we anymore. I have a feeling this is what we’re supposed to do.”

Olivia gave him a dubious look.

“I trusted you,” he reminded her.

“For about five minutes!” She wasn’t using the tone that said she was really angry. James tried not to let his smile show. “All right. If it takes off in the next two minutes, we’ll follow it.”

The mini-dragon immediately flapped up into the currents. With the sense that he’d stumbled into a fairy tale, James put the sub back in drive.

Their escort led them to a section of the city that was mostly warehouses. Big black subs with trucking logos were tied by cables behind the buildings, creating an obstacle course. They steered through it after the mini-dragon to a wall marked PREMIUM STORAGE. Halfway up the expanse of brick, perched on a window ledge, the sea dragon awaited.

“Crap,” Olivia said. “We have to go out there.”

James was glad she’d given up arguing. He knew how she was about submerging in deep water. “You could stay here while I investigate.”

“No point. You’ll have to flood the car before you can swim out.”

He did this as quickly as he could, to give Olivia less time to grow anxious. Her hand was very cold and squeezed his very tightly before she gave in and inhaled her first lungful of water. She coughed a bit, but then she was all right. They swam from the car together.

Her outfit turned out to be more adaptable than his. She only had to tie up her skirt. He needed to remove his jacket and his shoes. Free to move then, they peered in the window the mini-dragon was waiting by.

“Oh boy,” they said in dismayed unison.

Someone had drawn what even they knew was a spell-working circle on the warehouse’s concrete floor. Except for a giant pentagram, they didn’t recognize the symbols, though they were sufficiently creepy nonetheless. Six or seven men were scattered around the warehouse—hulking, bouncer-looking types. Another man, who wasn’t hulking at all, stood within the spell circle. He was naked and had both arms thrust upward in front of him. They couldn’t hear through the window, but he appeared to be chanting. Because he was on his feet and not floating, James concluded the warehouse was filled with air.

Most interesting of all, a pair of filmy phosphorescent wings fluttered gently behind the spell caster. Shaped like a dragonfly’s and equal to the man in height, the wings gleamed with every color in the rainbow.

“That’s Lajos,” Olivia exclaimed softly. “Mrs. Bonn said he was three-quarters faerie. He did a super job on my hair.”

“I think it’s safe to say that’s not the only job he’s doing.”

A vibration shook the building they were clinging to, as if a heavy truck had driven by on a nearby road. The Meimeyo cheeped mournfully and climbed onto James’s shoulder, its weight about that of a large cat. Under other circumstances, James would have been flattered. Under this one, he wished its rear claws weren’t digging through his tuxedo shirt.

“The faerie made the building shake,” Olivia surmised. “He’s summoning something nasty with that spell.”

James agreed, though he didn’t know what to do about it. He was no one-man army, and he doubted Lajos had brought those goons just to stand around.

“Do we have a way to call for help?” Olivia asked.

“There’s an emergency beacon in the car, but Ty told me it just notifies their version of Triple A.”

The building shook again, harder this time, causing the skin on the back of James’s neck to crawl. When he looked down, a jagged crack—maybe five feet long—had split the compacted sandy ground below. He didn’t think it was a good sign that the dragon hissed angrily.

“We can’t wait for Triple A,” Olivia said, arms braced on the brick of the window ledge. “We need a weapon. Or a big distraction.”

“Or both,” James said. They turned as one to stare at the car.

“There’s air in this building—”

“- and this window looks big enough to crash through.”

“But what if the glass is too strong to break? What if it’s magic?”

“Something powerful could heat it first. Then whatever spells protect it would be compromised.”

As James put forth this theory, the Meimeyo stepped around on his shoulder excitedly.

“All right,” James said, patting its prickly foot. “I guess you do know what you’re doing.”

They left the dragon at the window and swam back to the car.

“Safety belt,” James reminded Olivia as she pulled her body down into the second seat. God, he hoped this thing had airbags.

Another thunder-like rumble shook the water, this one seeming to originate underground.

“Jesus,” Olivia swore. “Is he calling a damn earthquake?”

Suddenly, they both knew that was exactly what the faerie hairdresser was doing. For whatever reason, Lajos was hoping to bring the city down. James’s cheeks grew colder than the water surrounding them.

“We’ve got the car,” he said. “We could try to outrun it.”

Buckled in now, Olivia shook her head. She looked as white-faced as he felt.

“Olivia, even if we survive this, we’ll lose our chance to escape.” He had to say it, though he was certain how she’d react.

“You know we have to try to stop this,” she said. “We couldn’t live with ourselves if we let them be hurt.”

She didn’t just mean the people of Oceana. She meant Ty and Anso. That was clear from the very personal worry pinching her lovely eyes. James turned his own stinging gaze to the warehouse window, where a starburst of scorch marks suggested the dragon had quietly done its work.

“Okay,” he said, giving Olivia’s trembling hand one last squeeze. “Let’s Thelma and Louise this.”

~

Ty had never helped a woman give birth before. If he never did again, that would be fine by him. Okay, if Olivia had Anso’s child, he’d let her clutch his hand—but only on the condition that the gory bits happened behind a curtain away from him.

Fortunately, mermaids weren’t as long-winded in giving birth as they were in their “entertainments.” No more than twenty minutes passed between Ty and Kelvin’s adrenaline-stoked arrival in the dressing room and Ty carefully cleaning up the newborn. He expected he and his fellow guard were grateful for their training in different species’ biology. The baby was small but healthy, the mother sufficiently recovered to be voluble again. Her conversation alternated between gushing thanks and her mystification as to why she’d gone into premature labor.

“My doctor swore I was right on schedule,” she said for the umpteenth time. “Sixteen days and three hours from now was my due slot.”

“We’re simply glad you’re all right,” Ty said, also not for the first time. He watched the baby nuzzle her pretty breast, the dark fuzz of hair on its head tinged with emerald. Despite the horror of its unscheduled birth, he had to admit the kid was cute.

Unaware of his thoughts, the new mother rocked her blanket-swaddled child and patted its small bottom. “Sixteen days yet. I should fire him. I’m just so glad you were here!”

Given that Ty had run out of ways to say you’re welcome, the appearance of the EMTs with a stretcher, come to trundle mother and baby off to the hospital, was an undeniable relief.

“Mermaids,” Kelvin said darkly, watching them disappear down the corridor.

“Babies,” Ty added.

Both guards, so recently thanked for being heroes, shuddered delicately.

“I need to get back to the hall,” Ty said, realizing he’d left Olivia and James to find their own escort.

“Right.” Kelvin glanced around the dressing room. “I’ll just, uh, finish cleaning up some of this. If you see that maid again, send her here.”

Ty slapped him on the shoulder and got while the getting was good.

Two of his men stood guard on either side of the dining room’s imposing central doors. One of them was the younger Corlier brother.

“Didn’t expect you back so soon,” Mark observed.

A single icy finger trailed down Ty’s spine. He stopped without going in. “What do you mean? Who took the queen and James back to the palace?”

Mark’s eyes rounded. “We thought you did.”

“Fuck.” Horrible conclusions jumped together in Ty’s head. People whose delivery dates were set by the hour didn’t go into early labor unless something triggered it. Magic maybe. Or a drug slipped into a water bottle. He thought back to the maid who’d called him and Kelvin to help and then disappeared. Had Olivia and James been kidnapped? Except . . . hadn’t Olivia urged them leave and, looking back, hadn’t she seemed a tad eager?

“Fuck,” he repeated, clutching his head this time.

“What is it?” Mark asked. “Has something happened to the queen?”

Ty gazed at the closed double doors, behind which Anso would be smiling politely for who knew what toast or speech. God, Ty didn’t want to tell him this. The king loved Olivia. This was going to break more than his heart.

“The queen and her husband have escaped,” he said tightly in a low voice. “They probably had help, very likely from Lady Ellice, but I suspect they went voluntarily.”

“Lady Ellice left ten minutes ago,” Mark said. “We saw her walk out of here in a rush.”

The second guard nodded in confirmation, worried enough by the enormity of this disaster that he’d broken into a shiny sweat. Even the famously unhappy Queen Denise hadn’t tried to run away.

“Find Lady Ellice’s friends,” Ty said. “Any of her clique who are still here. And servants, if you recognize them. Lock them up at the security station. I don’t care who they threaten to sue. None of them leaves until I question them.”

“Yes, Captain,” Mark acknowledged, the guards’ spines stiffening now that they had orders.

Ty should have known his course of action wouldn’t be this straightforward. Outside the building, Oceana’s earthquake klaxons began to wail.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“If it’s a false alarm . . .” Mark said.

“We can’t afford to be wrong. Help the guests get into the shelters without trampling each other. And don’t forget we have visitors who need the air-breather rooms. If you can, separate Lady Ellice’s associates, but only if that doesn’t interfere with safety.”

Ty himself strode into the dining hall, tersely relaying instructions to the other guards through his pocket comm. Inside, guests were queuing up in preparation for filing out to the shielded chambers. Anso must have ordered the men who’d been posted here to get them organized.

One of the visiting werewolves caught his arm. Ty didn’t want to stop, but he did.

“We’re cops,” the werewolf said. “We can help.”

“You’re air breathers.”

The man grinned at him. “Dogs don’t mind getting wet.”

“Fine,” Ty said, making a snap judgment. “Grab mini-air tanks and pair yourselves with my guards. None of you works alone.”

The man was a professional, because he nodded and went to do it. Ty found Anso at the rear of a queue in quiet conversation with his Uncle Phoca, Lady Ellice’s father. Though the king liked the war hero, Ty doubted affection was the reason for his choice of company.

Anso must have heard Olivia and James were gone.

“I don’t know where she is,” Prince Phoca was saying querulously. “Sometimes I don’t understand my daughter. Those friends of hers and the other folks she hangs out with, they’re a strange school of fish.”

Anso looked up at Ty’s approach. His deep blue eyes were wells of hurt and worry.

“You heard?” Ty asked.

“Mark gave me a brief report.”

Neither of them got a chance to say more, because Prince Phoca’s e-phone rang. He dug it out of his inside breast pocket.

“Well, that’s strange,” he said, peering at the little screen. “My security company is sending me footage of a break-in at our family warehouse. In the middle of all this, some fool drove a car through a window and flooded the whole damn place. I thought the strengthening spells protected against that.”

He turned the phone to show Anso the video. Anso squinted at it a moment before his expression turned very odd. “May I?” he asked, gently taking the phone from his uncle’s hand.

“Do you recognize the car?” the old man asked.

“I think I recognize the people in it.” He showed the screen to Ty. The security recording was running in a loop. Ty inhaled sharply as he made out James and Olivia’s frightened faces right before they and a massive wave of water smashed through the glass.

“What the hell are they doing?”

“I don’t know,” Anso answered, “but I think we’d better find out fast.”

Ty looked behind him, where the well-dressed crowd was emptying the room in relatively good order. “Okay,” he said. “I guess those werewolves will have to make up for us being gone.”

~

Anso and Ty were on their own for chasing Anso’s runaway mate. They didn’t dare pull personnel away from the hall with the earthquake increasingly seeming like it was genuine. All the visiting mermaids claimed to have sensed tremors.

The cadre of faeries who’d attended the feast informed Anso they were withdrawing somewhere quiet to “meditate on the cause of the disturbance.”

“Useless bastards,” Ty was muttering as he drove. Ty had commandeered a chili red racing sub from one of his men and was currently maxing out its speedometer. Each time they turned, the loose items left unstowed from their hasty flooding swept to a different side. “Why can’t the fae throw up extra protections like you asked?”

“They have their methods.” Anso braced on the dash at Ty’s hell for leather driving. “I can’t order them to ignore them. They’re royals in their own right.”

“Royal dickheads is more like.” Ty slowed as they neared Premium Storage. “Holy . . .”

They stared at the place where James and Olivia had crashed through the big window. As the weight of the sea poured inward, it had taken quite a portion of the wall with it. His grudge against the faeries forgotten, Ty allowed their vehicle to glide silently through the gaping hole. A few lights still shone inside the warehouse, those that hadn’t broken and gone out. On the opposite end of the building, packing crates and equipment had washed into a jumbled pile, where the surge had pushed them.

Because debris was clouding the water, Anso couldn’t locate the car at first. When he did, fear sank cold claws in him. With either admirable aim or dumb luck, the compact sub had landed nose first in a huge spell circle, cracking through the painted symbols along one side. The inrushing water hadn’t cushioned the impact much. From front headlamps to driver’s door, the cheaply made vehicle was an accordion.

A choking sound broke in Anso’s throat. He didn’t see how Olivia and James could have walked away from this.

“I see movement,” Ty said. “Over by that far pillar.”

He pointed, but Anso was already pushing out of the racing sub.

“For God’s sake,” Ty said. “Wait for me.”

Anso really couldn’t. His muscles quivered with his urge to keep his bloodmate from being dead. He spared one more look in passing for the crumpled car. The door on the passenger side hung open, and he saw no bodies.

Let them be alive, he thought as he strengthened his strokes. Just let them be all right.

When he reached the back side of the pillar where Ty had spied movement, he decided all right was a matter of degree. A relief that was more powerful than he expected rushed into him. James Forster was alive. Though cut up and bruised, he was well enough to be holding a very angry naked faerie rather roughly by his wings. Anso had heard faerie wings were sensitive, so this was the equivalent of having him by the balls. If the fae pulled hard enough to break free, he’d cause himself terrible pain.

James seemed to have figured out this vulnerability.

“She’ll cut them,” he was saying. “Tell your men to put down their weapons, or I swear she’ll slice them off a strip at a time.”

Anso’s heart gave an even more joyous throb. She was Olivia, and she also was on her feet. She gripped a shard of broken headlamp glass, which she pointed at the faerie’s beautiful glowing wings. Unfortunately, Anso’s little queen didn’t look bloodthirsty—more like she’d cut the faerie if she absolutely had to. This might have accounted for the six goons who surrounded them not lowering their attack rifles.

“I think you’d better listen to him,” Ty said. He’d snuck up behind the faerie’s bodyguards. His standard issue guard pistol wasn’t as big as theirs, but Anso knew he was crack shot.

Belatedly, he remembered he’d tucked a small gun into his boot tonight. He drew it, slid his foot into a floor clamp to steady himself, and swung into the goons’ view as well.

“Yes,” he said, drawing eyes to him like he and Ty were playing a tennis match. “Please disarm yourselves.”

The goons looked less sure of themselves at this second threat, but still didn’t comply.

“Isn’t that—?” one goon murmured to the other, likely recognizing his ruler.

Before they could conclude it was, the faerie began whispering in the high tongue of his homeland. Knowing this was the language of enchantments, Ty didn’t hesitate. He aimed, squeezed, and got off a killing shot. At least, it would have been a killing shot, if it hadn’t bounced off the magical shield the fae was spinning. The bullet ricocheted like it had struck steel, hitting Ty in the shin. Ty cursed and staggered to one knee in a bloom of blood.

Crap, Anso thought. The faerie hadn’t used up his juice powering whatever spell the Forsters had interrupted by crashing in. Because there was little point in shooting him, he joined Ty in targeting the faerie’s momentarily distracted men. Ty’s injury hadn’t spoiled his aim. In less than five seconds, he and Anso had dropped them all.

The whispering faerie truly didn’t seem to care.

“Shut up!” James cried, wrenching his sparkly wings harder.

The faerie screamed, but what he screamed seemed to be a part of his spell. The air around him thickened and grew darker. James was having more trouble holding him. Olivia rushed in, apparently deciding she’d see what her little manual weapon could do.

She didn’t get a chance to find out. A form slipped out of the shadows behind her, dressed all in black leather. The figure yanked Olivia back against it and shoved a gun underneath her chin. Anso recognized the person a second later.

Olivia’s attacker was Ellice.

“Hello, cousin,” she said.

She was considerably taller and more muscular than his queen. Olivia struggled, but Ellice subdued her easily, even when Olivia tried to slash at her with the headlamp glass. A twist of Ellice’s wrist disarmed her, after which she cocked her gun.

That wasn’t a sound Anso could enjoy.

“Release Mr. Lajos,” she said to James.

Reluctantly, James let go of the faerie.

“And your gun, please,” she said to Anso.

He couldn’t make the shot, not with her using Olivia as a shield, not even if he’d had the nerve to try. He set down the small waterproof revolver and kicked it behind him. If the faerie wanted a weapon besides his magic, he’d have to retrieve a rifle from one of his fallen goons. Their guns were large and unwieldy. Anso doubted the slender faerie could handle one.

“Cute,” Ellice said of his ploy. “That leaves you, Tykon.”

“It does,” Ty agreed, his pistol still aimed toward her in steady hands. “But I am wondering what you hope to accomplish here.”

Ellice smiled at him. “Well, I was looking forward to marrying our hot new king. I thought he’d be more receptive to my kindness once his faithless Outsider queen had used the cover of a disaster to run back to dry land. In truth, I was certain I’d find a way to blame the earthquake on her. That curse idea truly was elegant.”

She let out a humorous sigh. “Alas, you’ve foiled that plan. Now I’m just clearing my way to the throne. I am a Vitul, in case you’d forgotten. Next in line after my idiot father. I haven’t yet decided who’ll be my king, but Mr. Lajos would make a yummy third.”

The legislature would never approve of that. Faeries had enough power in the Pocket. By their own agreement, they weren’t allowed to govern the territories. This knowledge flickered into Ty’s face as strongly as it did Anso’s.

“Rules can change,” Ellice said in answer to his expression. “Especially when people are desperate for stability. Which they will be once we finish summoning the earth—”

She broke off with a shriek. Olivia had taken advantage of her gloating to jab back at her with some weapon no one had known she had. Furious, Ellice clutched at her thigh, then drew back the hand that had been shoving the gun muzzle underneath Olivia’s jaw. Clearly, she planned to whip it against her head.

The opening was all Ty needed. A pop sounded half an instant before a neat red hole appeared in the center of his cousin’s forehead. A cloud of blood puffed out, and then Ellice fell dreamily backward. Curiously, a cluster of diamonds glittered on the thigh of her leather pants, as if she’d been injured by jewelry.

Her descent was so picturesque that for a second no one noticed Lajos scrambling away.

Magic notwithstanding, he was a crap swimmer. When a new contingent of faeries—the same faeries who’d attended Anso’s dinner—materialized in his path, he didn’t have a chance of evading them.

Lajos’s wings drooped even before the faerie at the front grabbed him by the scruff like a bad puppy.

“Lajos of Maradrago,” he intoned, effortlessly holding him prisoner. “I place you under arrest for unapproved use of magic in a protected territory. Because your offense might have cost many lives, your punishment is to spend the next twenty years in a hell dimension. If at that point you seem to have repented, your case will be eligible for review.”

Anso’s jaw dropped at the swiftness of this sentencing. Everything considered, Ellice might have gotten off lightly. He shut his mouth with an effort when the lead faerie—just barely—inclined his head to him.

“No need to thank me, Your Majesty,” he said. “The fae are happy to provide you this service.”

Along with their prisoner, the faeries then blinked out of existence as abruptly as they’d arrived.

“Useless,” Ty muttered . . . but not too loudly.

~

Olivia had been this close to giving up the ghost. Anso had laid down his gun, James didn’t have one, and the best she thought she could hope for was that Ty would blow off Ellice’s head not too long after she lost her own.

No matter what the men did, she didn’t believe Ellice would let her live. The woman was ready to kill her father to gain the throne! She and James had underestimated her willingness to do violence. Olivia was about to console herself with fantasies of sharks devouring Ellice when she spotted two red eyes glowing among the warehouse’s ceiling struts.

For a heartbeat she was frightened. Was some devil glaring down at her? Then she remembered the Meimeyo had ruby eyes. If the mini-dragon was perched up there, maybe it could help. Feeling slightly stupid, she tried to send it a picture of blasting Ellice with its fiery dragon breath. The red glows blinked but didn’t budge. Maybe the Meimeyo had used up its fuel weakening the window. Or maybe Olivia sucked at telepathy.

An object appeared from nowhere within her hand.

Despite her intense surprise, she was disappointed. The mini-dragon had sent her the stupid diamond hairpin, the one it had thrown at the car window. Its end was sharpish, unlike a regular bobby pin, but it was hardly a dagger. Ellice was controlling Olivia too well to try sticking it in her eye.

On the other hand, if all she needed was a distraction . . .

Ty’s grip was rock-steady around his pistol, his yellow eyes locked with laser focus on Ellice. He didn’t need a signal from Olivia. He was ready to plug the bitch the instant he got the chance.

Olivia drew a breath, cocked her arm, then slammed the pin so hard into Ellice’s leg that it sank through her thigh muscle.

After that, Olivia’s mind checked out. She was aware of people speaking to her, but she couldn’t respond. Like a doll, she let them pull her away from the body. She needed to remember something, or explain something, or maybe just wake up.

Sleeping Beauty, she thought with a dreamer’s logic. Someone find a prince to kiss me.

Her brain returned to normal working order once the four of them had squeezed into the shiny red sport sub. Ty was at the wheel with Anso beside him. They were speaking by turns into some sort of hands-free phone, giving and receiving status reports from different voices. Olivia’s hair was floating around her face.

“The earthquake—” she said, batting at it in annoyance.

“Petering off,” James answered, squished in the back seat with her. “It’s looking like we stopped the spell in time.”

“Good.”

The word came out as a heavy sigh. James’s arm gave her shoulders a bracing squeeze. She looked at him, startled afresh by his changed eye color. Possibly she’d never completely get used to it. James smiled, but there were shadows in his humor. Neither Ty nor Anso were turning to check on them. All she saw was the back of their light and dark golden heads. No matter how important their conversation, Olivia had a feeling this wasn’t an accident.

Ty and Anso knew they had tried to run.

Chapter Fifteen

THE elephant in the room must have seemed worth avoiding to Anso and Ty. Neither wereseal mentioned James and Olivia had been escaping before they turned back at the warehouse. The men’s main concern after returning to the palace was Olivia’s well being. Ty claimed her zoning out after he shot Ellice was due to more than shock. According to him, people acted this way when they came out of magical hypnosis, his theory being that the faerie hairdresser had put a whammy on her. This idea gave James a turn, though it might explain his sudden dislike for her hairpins. Ty didn’t seem overly alarmed, treating it like a case of the flu she’d recover from. He and Anso had a brief low-voiced argument over whether someone called the Magus needed to be brought in, Ty being for it and Anso against.

“Can he make sure the spell is all the way out of me?” Olivia asked.

“Yes,” Anso conceded stiffly, which settled it.

The Magus turned out to be a pureblood fae. James gathered he held some sort of religious post. His stiff embroidered robes resembled a pope’s, though James didn’t think he was Catholic.

Of course, he also hadn’t thought Poseidon was a saint.

Olivia sat like a schoolgirl on a settee in the blue salon while the Magus examined her from head to toe through a large magnifying glass. The process was slightly Harry Potterish and surreal. Sensing Olivia’s nervousness, James stood behind her for support. Her shoulders were tense, her hands folded in her lap, as if waiting for a ruler to rap down on her knuckles. The expectation was her own creation. From what James could tell, the Magus was mild-mannered.

Of course, Anso was probably the person his wife feared she’d earned the rap from. That Olivia hadn’t taken off the dragon ring Anso gave her didn’t escape his notice.

At last, the Magus straightened. He turned to the king to give his report. “It is as I thought, sire. Though Lajos was a minor power for a faerie and only three-quarter blood, he combined a number of smaller spells to persuade the queen to do his bidding. In this way, he avoided setting off the palace’s illegal magic alarms. The hairpins were almost certainly used to anchor his enchantment. I’m also sensing vocal hypnosis with a boost from some object he used to store ‘mojo’—as the young people say.”

“His glasses!” Olivia exclaimed. “Lajos said they were spelled to pre-test hairstyles, but that might have been a lie.”

“Indeed it might, Your Majesty,” the Magus agreed politely. “Especially if the lenses were real crystal.” He hesitated, rubbing long pale fingers over his lower lip. “I do not wish to mislead either of you as to the extent of Lajos’s influence. He exaggerated Her Majesty’s impulses with his magic, but he didn’t create them. Assuredly, you do wish to return to your native land. On the other hand, I see by my examination that the part-breed’s spells have only recently dissipated. In order to turn back and save Oceana, Your Majesty must have overruled the enchantment with personal force of will. It cannot be denied you’ve earned your sobriquet of heroine. Because Lajos amped up his power with a spell circle, his earthquake would have wreaked considerable damage. Your Majesty and Mr. Forster faced down a dangerous character!”

He bowed to them both—well, more to Olivia than James, but he was in there somewhere. For her part, Olivia was too unsettled to respond with her usual blush.

“Sir,” she said, “why didn’t Lady Ellice kill the Meimeyo? James and I assumed she was reluctant to use violence, but clearly that wasn’t the case.”

“I can only speculate,” said the Magus, “but I expect she feared bringing a curse upon herself if she harmed them. Those mini-dragons are potent little beings.

“And now, if you would excuse me, might I suggest you call Pinni to see to your various wounds and bruises? The spirit isn’t the only part of a person that needs healing. Lord Otari in particular has been trickling blood from his leg on your nice carpet.”

This gentle reminder had all of them turning to face Ty. James wasn’t sorry to see Anso put his hand on his lover’s arm.

“Old friend,” he said, “forgive me for not thinking.”

Ty shrugged and turned brick red. “I’m all right. The bullet would have pushed itself out soon enough.”

“Eesh,” Olivia said, then covered her mouth for fear of having sounded rude.

Because eesh was pretty much what James was thinking, he patted her shoulder.

Once they’d been prodded and patched up by Pinni the elf physician, Olivia didn’t seem to know what to do with herself. Though they’d averted the worst of the earthquake, downtown Oceana had suffered some damage. Anso and Ty had plenty of relief efforts to take reports from and allocate resources to.

In their absence, the contrast between the emotional wringer they’d been through and its unexpected finish was dramatic. James understood—maybe better than Olivia did—why she wandered the guest room like a lost child, her fingers trailing over the surfaces she passed.

Readier to accept his feelings than she was, James leaned against the doorway and watched her.

“Olivia,” he said.

She stopped walking and looked at him. “I’m fine. I’m just wondering what happens next.”

“You know what you want to happen.”

“I—” She screwed her face into an expression that pleaded for him not to push.

“You know,” he repeated, then walked to her and chafed her shoulders. “You knew what you wanted the moment you agreed we ought to turn back. I don’t think you’re wrong for wanting it, mind you. I want to stay with them too.”

Olivia’s chin quivered. “They think we were running away from them!”

“Well, we were.”

She laughed and buried her face in his chest. James wrapped his arms around her and immediately felt better. She would always be his touchstone.

“They’ll forgive us,” he said, rubbing her back gently.

Olivia hugged him tighter. “Will you forgive me?”

“Oh sweetheart, that never was an issue.”

She tipped her head back to look into his eyes. “Go find him,” she said. “He needs to hear from you that we want to stay.”

James knew she meant go find Ty. The surface of his cheeks heated. Seeing this, Olivia touched his face and smiled. “How you feel about him doesn’t hurt me. I thought it might, but I like the idea of you making him happy.”

He could have said so many things. That he loved her. That Ty wasn’t immune to her appeal either—erotic or otherwise. He didn’t say them because she knew already, and besides she was right. Ty deserved to hear how James felt from James. He’d been treated too often as an afterthought to Anso.

Of course, James was only guessing Ty would be happy about the news. This conversation might be more awkward than he was prepared for.

Laughing softly, Olivia petted his jaw from either side. “Silly man. You’re exactly the extra blessing Ty needs, whether he knows it yet or not.

~

The most urgent of Ty’s post-disaster duties were carried out. His mind at loose ends, he was uncomfortable remaining in Anso’s apartments with the others but couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Didn’t he have a right to stay? Weren’t James and Olivia as much his bloodmates as Anso’s? Then again, perhaps the Forsters didn’t belong to either of them. They had been trying to run away. If Oceana hadn’t been in such grave danger, would they have turned around?

He’d drifted to the dining room to grapple—albeit unwillingly—with these questions. A stretch of rare rectangular picture windows gave a pretty view of the coral garden. The upper reaches of the water sparkled with rippling light. Oceana’s fake sun was rising. Did James and Olivia miss their real one?

Without warning, a soft and pleasant vibration thrummed through his tired body.

“Ty,” said James’s voice from the door.

You see, he thought as he turned. There is a bond between them and you.

“You okay?” James asked.

God, the man was gorgeous. From his night-black hair to the way his shoulders filled out his shirt to the exotic Outsider accent in his deep voice. Ty wanted to rip off his clothes and ravish him on the table, then maybe lick him all over for dessert. He tried to tighten his groin muscles, to keep his cock from emerging, but the effort was futile.

“I’m fine,” he said. “How are you and Olivia?”

James appeared to find this question amusing. He walked in shaking his head, only stopping when he’d reached Ty’s side of the long table, where he leaned his hips on its edge. His closeness thickened the air in Ty’s lungs. What could Ty say to him? What would convince him and Olivia not to run again?

“You killed a woman today,” James said. “One you’d known all your life. And you did it to save my wife.”

James’s arms were folded across his chest, the cuffs of his plain white shirt rolled up. With an effort, Ty wrenched his gaze from the dark hair on James’s strong forearms. “Am I supposed to be sorry about that? Ellice was a shit to me for as long as I can remember.”

“That isn’t why you killed her.”

“No.” Ty rubbed his sweaty palms on his casual buckskin pants. He liked that James seemed very sure of this. “It isn’t why I killed her, but I won’t feign remorse. I wasn’t going to let her hurt Olivia and Anso. Or Oceana. I don’t care whose family blood she has. Rulers shouldn’t act like that.”

James dropped his head, his lashes amazingly thick, his mouth slightly curved. Did he think nations with kings and queens were humorous? He watched James uncross his ankles and then look up. Whatever he’d been thinking, it wasn’t a judgment. His deep blue eyes sparkled.

“Olivia and I want to stay.”

Ty’s internal organs were knocked off kilter, heat and chills trying to rush through him at the same time. “You want to stay. Both of you.”

“I think we knew we did before we tried to leave. We simply weren’t ready to admit it.”

“The Magus said Lajos merely exaggerated Olivia’s wish to go home.”

“I know. And we’ll have to work that out. Olivia and I can’t be kept here like prisoners. We have to be free to communicate with and see our family as we think best. You and Anso will have to trust us to show good judgment—and to come back.”

“The blood bond would call you back,” Ty warned. “You’d be uncomfortable without us.”

This wasn’t the best thought-out response he’d ever made. It sounded too much like a threat. James’s faint smile deepened.

“Maybe,” he said, “but Olivia and I are fairly stubborn. I think we’d manage to stay away if we wanted to. Of course, you and Anso could join us on dry land, at least for short periods. I know it’s not your preference, but Olivia and I might be able to make your stay tolerable. The best marriages rely on compromise.”

The best marriages . . . Ty wagged his head in wonder at him using those words. “You’re serious about this. You really think we could all live committed to each other.”

This was what Ty had come to believe he wanted, but found so frightening to let himself hope for. James took Ty’s hand from where it had been nervously rubbing his thigh again. “Olivia always calls me a romantic.”

She’d called Ty that too. He wouldn’t have thought he was, but he couldn’t deny he found James’s hold on his hand very sweet. Sex wasn’t the only thing Ty desired from him.

“Look,” James said quietly. “When people fall for each other, it isn’t always even. Maybe you’ll always love Anso more than you will me. Maybe Anso will always be most attached to Olivia. That doesn’t mean his feelings for you don’t matter. This is early days for all of us, but I think it’s worth finding out if this foursome can work.”

“How can you be so brave?” Ty burst out. “What if Anso or I never fall as deeply as you want?”

He knew these were his own fears talking, but James treated the question seriously. “Maybe I’m naturally optimistic. Or maybe I’m arrogant. I’m accustomed to thinking of myself as lovable. I’d be happy and honored if you fell for me, but I wouldn’t be shocked.”

And there was the difference between them.

“It shocks me,” Ty confessed. “It always shocks me—in either direction.”

James straightened from his lean on the table, his arms pulling Ty gently against him. Ty’s resistance simply gave. He held James back with his cheek resting on his temple. He wasn’t sure he’d ever held anyone like this. Not lovers, not Anso, not anyone. Though the full frontal contact aroused him, he didn’t want to move. He was too quiet inside for that. It wasn’t even hard to ask his next question.

“Do you believe I could love you?”

“Maybe not only me,” James said. “But also me? Absolutely. Don’t you think you could manage that?”

Ty thought about how easy it was to hold him, how welcome his kindness was, and how—when Anso inevitably made James his third—he didn’t think he’d sicken with envy. James was a good man, maybe as natural a leader as Anso.

“Yes,” he said, the word like a heavy weight dropping from his soul. “I think I could manage that.”

~

Anso had just wrapped up a phone call with Lord Noth in his office. Ty had been working at a small antique desk nearby. Along with everything else, he’d set an investigation into motion, to find possible other parties to Ellice’s plot. The police would look into it, but Anso and Ty both wanted their own answers. Anso saw Ty was no longer there. Had Anso said goodbye to him when he left? He couldn’t remember.

God, he hoped this business wouldn’t get much messier.

Knowing it could, he was squeezing his eyebrows along their bone when Harrison appeared at the door. The butler wore his full black-and-white uniform.

“Sire,” he said, “might I inquire if you’d like me to order breakfast or if you prefer to sleep?”

“It’s morning?”

“Yes, sire. Going on six a.m.”

Anso’s eyelids felt as if they’d been lined with sand. “I don’t think I’m hungry, but you could ask the others.”

“Very good. You might wish to know the new shift of guards is posted outside the royal apartments, Lord Otari is in the dining room with Mr. Forster, and I gave the Press Office strict instructions not to accept interview requests until you speak to them yourself.”

“Thank you,” Anso said. “And thank you for your work on the banquet. It went off well right up to the end.”

“I am only glad we were spared a worse conclusion.” Harrison started to turn back to the door, then stopped. Despite his as-ever upright carriage, Anso noticed bags underneath his eyes. No doubt the overworked man needed sleep himself. Harrison tugged his stiff black waistcoat and spoke again. “Sire, if it wouldn’t be too forward, I’d like to remind you of your father’s favorite saying: Seize the—”

“—seal by the tail?”

“That is the one. Her Majesty is in the large guest bedroom. I did not intrude, but her footsteps have been going back and forth for some time.”

“I understand,” Anso said. “Thank you for your advice.”

He didn’t want to take it, but he suspected it was sound. Satisfied he’d been heard, Harrison bowed and left.

Anso leaned back in his desk chair and laughed to himself at the irony. Seize the seal by the tail. Wasn’t that what caused his problems in the first place? He’d seized the seal too tightly, and now she wanted to flee from him. No lesser person than the Magus had confirmed it. Anso hoped Ty was having better luck with “Mr. Forster.” Maybe James could convince his wife to stay.

Except that wasn’t what Anso wanted. He wanted Olivia to stay for him. He needed her to love him.

He didn’t know if he was following Harrison’s suggestion, but decision seized him. With only a vague idea of what he’d say or do, he left his office to find Olivia.

~

Olivia couldn’t tell James to go to Ty and then be a coward herself. Naturally, she required a longer pep talk than her husband. Of the two of them, he’d always been bolder.

Step up to the plate, Olivia exhorted herself. Grab the bull by the horns and all that.

She literally crashed into Anso as he shut the door to his office.

He caught her, his hands staying on her arms after he’d steadied her. His touch felt like twenty circuits flipping on inside her body.

It had been too long since she’d made love to him.

“I was coming to see you,” he said.

“I wanted to apologize,” she blurted, her words running over his.

His expression softened, his grip tightening. The glow that began to kindle in the depths of his eyes drew hot sensations between her legs.

“I shouldn’t let you look at me like that,” he said huskily.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s just our mating heat working on you, and you and I need to talk.”

“That’s the girl’s line,” she teased.

He stroked her cheek, his warm palm melting much lower parts of her. His eyes were fond but serious. “I know I ought to offer to let you leave, but I can’t. I took you against your will. Stole you from a life you loved. I saw what that did to my mother, how every day she grew sadder. Maybe you were smarter than she was. Maybe she should have run away before she killed herself. You owe me no apologies.”

Olivia’s heart felt like he’d kicked it. “Your mother killed herself?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you— I thought someone must have mentioned it.”

“No.” She shook her head, then had to do it again. “No one mentioned it. Were you afraid I’d be as miserable as she was? Were you thinking I’d never love you even before you swam up on that beach to claim me?”

“I thought . . . when I saw you and James were married, I hoped bringing him too would make it easier for you.”

It had a kind of crazy logic, crazy and terrible. She should have realized how much not a game this was to him. “Now I feel even sorrier. My God, I shouldn’t have led you on. If I thought I was going to leave, I never should have slept with you!”

“Olivia, with the best will in the world, you’d have had to be a Titan to fight that. Not in the beginning and not after the bond was set. I’m not angry with you for . . . making our time in bed memorable. You thought playing along would help you regain your freedom, which is no more than you deserve. I just don’t know how to stop wanting you to love me. I don’t know how to stop loving you myself. That isn’t the blood bond. That’s my heart wanting someone I care deeply about to feel the same way for me. My whole life I’ve longed for a lover I could count on.”

This was a whole other kettle, though Olivia saw how one pain led to the other. She took hold of his creased white shirt—the same he’d worn into the water, she realized. He hadn’t bothered to change it before he went to work. Just barely, she resisted her urge to give him and the cotton a wake-up shake. “Anso, when I said I’d never be the only one to love you, that wasn’t an empty reassurance. Ty loves you back exactly as you describe. Hell, he adores you. And if you think you can’t count on him, you haven’t been paying attention!”

He seemed caught off guard by her defense of his long-time lover.

“Ty is . . . well, I know he loves me,” he said. “And I’m glad he gets along with both of you.”

“He has your back, Anso. No matter who else he’s slept with, I expect he always has. I can see how his promiscuity might have played into your fears, but in your heart, you know he’s there for you. You put your gun down when he was the only one left to defend me. You knew he’d make that shot.”

Not seeing what she was getting at, his brows drew together in confusion. “Ty is an expert marksman.”

“It’s more than that.” Olivia gathered her thoughts so she could be as clear as possible. “If you don’t trust him with your heart the way you were willing to trust me, this isn’t going to work.”

“This?” he asked.

Olivia screwed up her nerve. “James and I want to stay. We want to make a go of . . . whatever you call four people in a relationship. If it works out the way I hope, someday we’ll all have each other’s backs.”

She supposed it was appropriate to say his mouth fished open. He closed it and swallowed. “You want to accept our four-way blood bond. Voluntarily. Even though you’re homesick.”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

Her eyes hadn’t been searched with this particular mix of hope and amazement since she’d accepted James’s marriage proposal.

“Come on,” she said, giving his hard chest a playful punch. “Me saying yes can’t be that surprising. Don’t forget I came back before the hairdresser’s spell wore off.”

“And you think you could come to love me.”

“I do love you. Right now. No waiting period required.”

No one who saw him break into that smile could have thought him older than eighteen. “Right now.”

“Right now, Your Majesty. I love you.”

He lifted her off her feet to hug her bear-style, his pleasure at squeezing her causing him to growl. “And Ty? You think you’ll love him too?”

Olivia thought it nice of him to remember, but kept her amusement to herself. “Ty too,” she assured him with only a hint of dryness. “He and I have interests in common.”

Without setting her down, Anso drew back to grin some more at her. “God, I love you,” he said. “My genes were genius to send me after you.”

Ty and James walked up on them just like that. Anso set her on her feet but didn’t let her go. Instead, he held her against his side. When Anso and Ty’s gazes found each other and glowed brighter, she knew the four of them had a real chance for happiness.

Ty was always beautiful. When Anso smiled, his normal attractiveness became breathtaking. “I guess you got the good news too.”

“I did.” Ty’s grin broadened, then faltered. “You’re okay with this, right? Me being in this quartet for real?”

“Ty. Don’t you know you’ve been a part of my dreams of happiness since we first became friends?”

“Well, I hoped so. You were . . . you were always a part of mine.”

James and Olivia exchanged eye rolls, pressing their lips together against their impulse to laugh. The king and his captain were too freaking sweet for words. Olivia knew she and James both loved it.

“And Olivia,” Ty said, turning to her almost too quickly for her to get her face in order.

“Me?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.

“James is your husband. Do you mind him . . . having feelings for me?”

Olivia didn’t want Anso to let go of her, so she reached to tug Ty closer. When he was near enough, she stretched onto her toes, wrapped one hand behind his neck, and laid the most blistering kiss she had in her onto his tempting mouth.

Ty stiffened in surprise for a millisecond, after which he dove into the kiss like he was drowning and she was air. Olivia had hoped he would kiss her back but was rocked by the fervor of his response. Ty felt like he had twelve hands, and they were all over her.

Oh wait, one of those palms contracting on her bottom belonged to Anso.

When Ty finally let go, she was disheveled and breathless. It took her two tries to speak. “I had something smart planned to say, but you kissed it out of my head.”

Ty laughed, a purely happy, purely masculine sound. “Glad I could oblige.”

“Oh,” she said, jumping a little as his strong hands continued to smooth around her hips. “I remember. I wanted to say why don’t you ask James if he minds me having feelings for you?”

Ty’s yellow eyes welled up. “Liv.”

“I do,” she said shyly. It was odd to be making this declaration with her two other men close by, but certainly not odd bad. “I know it’s early days, and my feelings are new, but I’m sure they’ll get bigger. You’re a wonderful man. Not to mention really hot stuff.”

“Plus, I saved your life.”

“You did!” she agreed. “Which was very nice of you.”

He smiled and kissed her, more gently this time, though the way his tongue stroked hers was exciting. Through it all, Anso’s arm didn’t leave her waist. If anything, it braced her for Ty. By the end, Ty was rocking his erection into her belly, his arms wrapped around her back while Anso’s fingers caressed her side. Both of them were affecting her. Olivia’s pussy brimmed with arousal.

Ty seemed to reach his limit just as she did. He rested his mouth against her brow. “I’m about to say something smart, so I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“What is it?”

He pushed his erection against her harder. “Olivia, nothing I feel about you is small.”

“I see. You care about me eight inches worth.”

“Nine,” he corrected, straight-faced. “Because of how we’re built, wereseals are hard to measure.” He raised inquiring eyebrows at Anso. Having received whatever answer he was looking for, he swung Olivia up into his arms. The ease with which he did it was pleasant. “We’re moving this celebration to Anso’s room. When you’ve got servants, hallways are bad places to have sex.”

“Thus speaks the voice of experience,” James quipped.

Olivia looked at him over Ty’s shoulder. Her husband was smiling and unbuttoning his shirt, maybe the easiest of all of them with this.

“My experience benefits you,” Ty said with put-on dignity. “All of you should be writing thank you notes to my old lovers.”

He said this as if they were history.

“How hard are we going to have to work to keep you from taking new ones?” Anso asked mildly.

He’d opened the door to his bedroom suite. Ty stopped on the threshold to look at him.

“I wouldn’t insist on it,” Anso added. “I’m simply admitting I’d rather only share the people I love with the people I love. I’d like to think we’re enough for you.”

Ty’s body stilled even as his breathing deepened with emotion. Olivia knew he’d heard Anso say he loved him. “You’re enough,” he said roughly. “If the three of you loved me, I’d count myself the luckiest man in the world.”

Anso leaned in to press his lips to Ty’s. He probably meant to keep it light, but Ty wasn’t a man anyone could kiss halfway. With Olivia still in his arms, the two men got seriously into it. Olivia could feel their groans rumbling in their chests, could hear and see their tongues working greedily against each other. She shivered with excitement, and Ty’s arms tightened under her.

“Christ,” Ty whispered into Anso’s mouth. “I think Her Majesty’s temperature just jumped ten degrees.”

Anso pulled back and laughed, tugging both of them into his bedroom. “Hey,” he called to James. “Why aren’t you in here and naked already? I’m pretty sure your wife would enjoy us putting on a show for her.”

“I’m pretty sure your wife’s the pervy one,” James said. “My Liv was always a straight arrow.”

“Ha!” Ty and Olivia scoffed in chorus.

Still holding her, Ty stopped so they could admire the sight of James shucking off his trousers and underwear. He was hard and getting harder, his erection a steely rod sticking out from a tangle of black pubic hair. His physique might have changed a little, but he was the same gorgeous hero who’d ridden right through her shyness to sweep her up, the same funny adventurous man who made her heart beat harder. Wasn’t it a miracle when someone you desired wanted you in return? As James straightened, showing off his abs and chest, Ty let out a happy sigh.

“God, he’s sexy,” he said.

Amused by the parallel nature of their thoughts, Olivia nipped Ty’s earlobe. This drew a secret shudder from him.

“Nice,” Anso said, joining them in ogling James’s nudity.

“Jeesh,” James said, momentarily startled to find all eyes on him. “If this is a peep show, maybe I should charge.”

“You’re beautiful,” Anso said seriously. “You were before, and now you’re even more so. Your muscles are more substantial, but you still look lean overall. You could probably survive training with the guards, if that interests you.”

James enjoyed competition, and Olivia expected he’d take Anso up on his offer. At the moment, though, this wasn’t where his focus lay. He flashed his best crinkling grin at the king. “I thought we were going to put on a show for Olivia, or are you all talk and no action?”

“Those are fighting words,” Ty warned and set her down carefully.

To her delight, he and Anso began stripping off their clothes.

“You too,” Anso said to her. “Once this gets started, there will be no game delays.”

Oh they all knew how to push her buttons, each in his own way. Men seemed to be quicker at getting naked than women, and the king and Ty were no exception. Completely bare-assed at nearly the same instant, they didn’t need more than a look to coordinate their attack. They let out matching football player’s roars and rushed James in unison.

Yelping in alarm, he tumbled beneath them onto Anso’s giant floor-level bed. Three very naked, very aroused men wrestling with each other was a show worth seeing. An all out licking and tickling battle ensued. James didn’t have the slightest hope of victory. He was laughing too hard to defend himself—that is, when he wasn’t moaning like a foghorn.

Ty would give his cock one long suck, only to have his mouth replaced by Anso’s. James tried to grab his attackers, but they restrained his hands. That aroused him more, until a simple nip on his thigh or a lick up his ribs could draw a groan from him. If it weren’t for the tickling, he probably wouldn’t have fought at all.

“Olivia,” he called between gasps as they went at him. “Save me! They’re ganging up on me.”

Saving him was going to wait. Olivia could have watched them all day: their straining muscles and cute clenched butts, the flashes of long hard cocks being waved around. All of them were hung, but their different shapes and shades fascinated her.

“Bedside chest,” Ty panted, catching her eye as he trapped James’s wrists. His face was happy, his flush bringing out the pretty pattern of his leopard spots. Anso was nuzzling James’s balls in a manner that—evidently—was both erotic and ticklish. James seemed unable to decide whether to protest or shove closer.

“There’s lube in there,” Ty told her.

In her distraction, Olivia had lost track of his last comment. He jerked his head toward the bedside chest to remind her, then returned his attention to James. Deciding his request was worth her while, she knelt in front of the small mother of pearl inlaid cabinet. The softness of her butt resting on her heels reminded her she was naked for three men, but it felt natural. They were her men, and all of them liked her. On instinct, she pulled out the chest’s bottom drawer. Inside, she found a cut glass flask filled with clear liquid, plus something else interesting.

A paddle lay on the velvet lining, carved of wood with rubber on one side. This must be the toy Anso used to spank Ty.

“Liv,” James gasped from the tangle on the bed, laughingly complaining at her delay. “I need you to take my side.”

Of course he did. Olivia retrieved the paddle and hid it behind her back.

“Ty,” she said. “I think you need to suck James again. I can tell you doing it really gets to him.”

Anso huffed, insulted by this slur, but let Ty take his place when he noticed she was smiling. Ty grinned at her for different reasons before bending back over James’s cock. He had no clue what was coming.

Anso’s brows rose when she brought out the paddle.

Hold him, she mouthed to him.

Anso grinned evilly and complied. Olivia brought the paddle down in a good sharp smack on Ty’s taut rear end. Stunned, he jerked back and looked at her wide-eyed.

“Ho ho,” James gloated, though the state Ty had left him in had him panting. “Now you’re in for it.”

“I promised I’d do this one day,” Olivia reminded him. “What sort of mate would I be if I didn’t keep my word?”

“Jesus,” Ty said, the oath shaking with excitement.

Olivia kept her word as well as her swimmer’s arm allowed.

~

Good Lord, Olivia was good at this. Never mind how thrilled Ty was that she’d called herself his mate, he’d have admired her aptitude regardless. She hit him harder and faster than Anso did, perhaps because she wasn’t afraid of her own strength.

She didn’t overwork any spot, but aimed her blows all over. His ass cheeks took on a sweet simmer, the slightly illicit thrill heightened by having three people watch—and hear—him get a charge out of it. Pretty soon into it, James pulled Ty’s hips down until their cocks nestled side by side between their bellies. Every time Olivia smacked him, those friction-loving organs jarred together, and every time they jarred together, James gave a little gasp. Ty sensed the reason was more than the nice jostle of their pricks; James liked the idea of spanking too.

Ty had to kiss him even as the paddle’s stings rained down, had to thank him for being his partner in freakishness. He suspected Anso could have lived without this game. Chances were, Anso could have lived without male bed partners if his bonding genes hadn’t decided differently. That wasn’t the case for Ty, and maybe it wasn’t for James either. James kissed him back so hard their teeth threatened to cut each other’s lips. Ty thought he’d burst with excitement, though the side of him that loved being punished longed to go limp with surrender. The dilemma was delectable, the swelling of his cock causing him to groan his enjoyment down James’s throat.

He noticed James’s dick was leaking like crazy between their abs, his pre-cum thinner than a wereseal’s. The contrast made Ty insane. He wrenched one hand from Anso’s grip so he could shove it onto James’s cock and rub the warm slipperiness over him. James’s veins were throbbing, his glans as full as a plum. He arched and writhed as Ty rubbed him, his breath gasping out with pleasure.

Maybe Olivia sensed how close Ty was to being overwhelmed. Her strikes slowed against his ass, allowing him to appreciate the reverb from every blow. The vibrations slung up his asshole, into his prostate and out his dick. He was so hard, so sensitized he was already fighting not to come. His head arched back the next time she hit him, sexy tingles jolting up his tailbone. Pictures rolled through his imagination of things he wanted to do with these three people—and maybe would get a chance to now. A thick drop of pre-cum squeezed from his slit. This was heaven, but even heaven could get better.

“I want him to take me,” he broke out. “I want to be the first man James fucks.”

James moaned like this idea suited him. Olivia’s spanking ceased. Anso released Ty’s remaining hand. The royal bedchamber echoed with hard breathing.

“You’re sure?” James asked.

He looked up at Ty from the bed, where a sunbeam from Anso’s windows slanted onto his handsome drylander’s face. His stubble was darker and rougher than Ty’s or Anso’s, but his beard wasn’t all that glinted in the sunlight. Tiny rays of yellow appeared around the center of his deep blue eyes. Pride rose in Ty: that this man was partly his, that he knew he was starting to love him.

“Oh yeah,” he said, his voice gravelly. “The sooner you shove your dick up my ass, the happier I’m going to be.”

~

Anso knew the signs that someone was in heat. Foregoing sex felt like torture. Even slowing down was a big challenge. All you could think about was getting more and more of whatever felt good to you, as soon as possible. The flush on James’s face, the extreme raggedness of his breathing said more than his attraction to Ty was riding him. Probably he was too hard up to be nervous for his first time, but Anso thought he’d help him ease into it all the same.

He unscrewed the top of the flask of lube. “Hand,” he said to Olivia, his voice hoarser than expected.

Olivia held out her palm.

Beside them, Ty was sitting back on his heels, his well-basted bottom making the shift gingerly. He was showing the same high arousal as James, though his might have been due to the surprisingly vigorous spanking Olivia had given him. Anso was considering yielding his paddle to her for good. Each time her lovely arm had fallen, each time the concussion drew a broken pleasure-gasp from Ty, the tip of Anso’s cock had tingled. Apparently, for this particular activity, Anso liked watching better than doing.

Thinking about that, his hand trembled just a little as he poured the lube in her palm.

“You liked watching me spank him,” she murmured. Maybe the others heard and maybe they didn’t. Anso lifted his eyes to hers. He might have changed their color, but her soul shone unchanged behind them. His love for her very essence swelled inside him.

“Yes, I did,” he murmured back.

She closed her fingers over the lubricant.

“Get James a rubber,” Ty broke in. “This won’t be the last thing he wants to do tonight.”

“So you wereseals do know what rubbers are,” Olivia said as Anso turned to retrieve one from the cabinet.

He squirmed at her sardonic tone. Was she going to demand he use one now that she and James had volunteered to stay? Should he explain that this brand was mainly hygienic, that only a spelled condom offered pregnancy prevention—and even that wasn’t a hundred percent guaranteed? He didn’t want to explain. Every cell in both his bodies wanted her to have his child. Then again, shouldn’t he show her the respect of fully informing her?

She laughed at the war that must have been tugging at his expression. “Today you’re off the hook. Tomorrow, if I’m still not pregnant, we all talk this decision through.”

“Agreed,” he said—maybe too eagerly, because the other men laughed at him. “You should know weres don’t transmit sexual diseases, nor could we catch them from you.”

“No, you only . . . turn people’s eyes blue,” James said, breath hitching as Ty rolled the thin rubber on.

Olivia was ready to help with the next stage, all but her index finger curled around the lube on her palm. With that one finger, she touched the tip of the condom. It stuck to James’s skin when she backed off, the latex caught there by his generous pre-cum. Olivia didn’t say a word, but Anso saw awareness pass between them. The couples’ gazes held as she wrapped her oiled hand around his dick. James’s lids drifted shut for her first downward stroke. To them, sharing these caresses was familiar. Anso wished Olivia felt the same ease with him. The longing that tightened his throat came as no surprise. The realization that maybe he’d enjoy the steps it took to get there did.

“Boy,” James said, his hips pushing into her smoothing motions. “That feels really good.”

“You’re in heat too,” she said.

His eyes opened. “Not just for him, sweetheart.”

She smiled. The curve of her lips, the way the light struck her red hair and face, was so beautiful Anso wished he could capture it forever.

“Be as good to Ty as you are to me,” she said.

Chapter Sixteen

OLIVIA sensed James needed that last permission. He crinkled his eyes at her, one hand caressing the wrist that had just stroked him. They were both aware of Ty stretching out to lie face down on the bed. He lifted his hips to make room for his erection, then settled to the covers.

“Take me like this,” he said, his cheek on his folded arms, his voice aroused and dreamy. He bent one long leg up and to the side, his fine golden body hair glinting on his calf and thigh muscles. “This position is the easiest.”

“Um,” James said, unsure but not unwilling. “Won’t I be rubbing against the places Olivia spanked?”

Ty turned his head farther sideways and grinned at him.

“Okay,” James said. “I guess that will be a good thing.”

“No more waiting now. Get your cock in there, Outsider.”

Ty sounded drunk with anticipation. James flushed, then carefully lowered into a position from which he could enter. His cock pulsed hard enough to bounce. He wasn’t looking at Olivia anymore. Ty and what he was about to do to him filled his attention. Olivia kept her mouth shut and reached for Anso’s hand. He squeezed it back tightly.

James slid one arm underneath Ty’s chest. “All right. Tell me if I do anything too wrong.”

Olivia doubted that was going to happen. As soon as he started pushing, Ty arched his spine to help.

“Oh boy,” James said, the muscles in his ass clenching. “Oh . . . God.”

“Mmm,” was Ty’s answer. He gave a gorgeous full body wriggle as James’s cock disappeared in him. His face was toward her, the fist beneath it clenching with pleasure. His expression was nearly unrecognizable. Olivia wondered if she looked that beatific when James penetrated her. It certainly was intimate to have other people witness it.

“Tell me you’re okay,” James pleaded once he was inside, “because I really want to move.”

“Yes,” Ty said. “Go.”

They moaned together as he did. Anso’s hand abruptly grew sweatier in hers.

“Olivia,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb the others. “I don’t think I can wait until they’re done.”

She turned to him. His face was flushed, his eyes glowing noticeably. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait either. Those twenty circuits he’d flipped on were shooting out energy. She ached with need, her pussy contracting with longing.

“Don’t wait,” Ty groaned. “Fuck her while he fucks me.”

James wasn’t fucking him at all. James was stroking into Ty as sweetly as he’d ever taken Olivia. His face brushed the bunched muscles of Ty’s shoulders, the arm that wasn’t supporting his weight petting up and down the side of Ty’s thigh. Even his chest caressed Ty as he went in and out. Ty’s body recognized this. It was going looser and looser even as he canted his spine to let James deeper.

Anso seemed to like watching Ty succumb as much as she did. If Olivia’s temperature had jumped ten degrees, his had just leaped fifteen.

“Here,” he said, urging Olivia onto her knees and over his lap.

She loved the way he handled her, strong and careful at the same time. His scent rose with his increase in heat, different from James’s but just as comforting. Anso’s hands slid to her waist and rubbed. She bit her lip, wanting to kiss him, but then they wouldn’t be able to watch the others.

“Ride me,” Anso said gruffly, settling her indecision. “It’s been too long since I was in you.”

“Wait.” Ty’s hand fumbled out to hit Olivia’s knee. “Go in slow. James and I want to watch you take her.”

Ty didn’t just want to watch. Despite the awkward way he had to reach, he parted Olivia’s labia, pushing up the smooth wet folds and holding them open for his friend. His index finger rubbed once over Anso’s crest, then stroked her swollen clitoris. When he put his thumb there too and pinched lightly where she ached most, Olivia couldn’t contain a gush of excitement.

Naturally Ty liked that.

“I love this part of you,” he said, low and growly. “This is my idea of magic.”

It would have been rude to laugh, and besides she was moaning. The dual sensations really got to her: Anso pushing slowly into her, Ty just as slowly frigging her.

“Pretty,” James panted, not taking his hands off Ty.

She didn’t want him to. Trusting Ty and James were of the same opinion, she kept her touch on Anso, combing through the dark gold silk of his hair, stroking his broad warm back. She rocked herself on his cock as if she had all the time on the world to come. Her body was telling her she was crazy, that it wanted to come now, but she honestly didn’t care.

Anso shook with need, but he seemed no more inclined to rush. Each of his thrusts was deep, each long entry perfect for savoring. He pushed her breasts up, bending to suck her nipples and groan softly around them.

“Kiss them for me,” Ty said.

“Fuck him for me,” Anso returned to James.

This seemed to be the signal for Anso to push her backward, tumbling her gently under him to the bed. She couldn’t see James and Ty then, though she could still hear them. James had begun thrusting faster, if his and Ty’s sped-up grunts were anything to go by.

Anso breathed out a curse, affected by this soundtrack too. She supposed that was the challenge to making love in tandem. The other people got you excited. Anso pushed her hands up beside her shoulders, weaving their fingers together.

To her, that union was as lovely as the other.

“Ready?” he asked, his next thrust already coming harder. It felt like paradise to her aching core.

“Oh yes,” she promised him.

He went at her like he’d been wanting to before they started, like this was the real beginning for him. He was so athletic that it was easier to let him take charge than to try to match his pace. She spread for him, arched for him, but didn’t get in his way otherwise. Growling his approval, he dug in his knees to give her his all—full length and full throttle.

Olivia climbed so fast it was scary, the noises she was making every bit as loud as Ty’s. Her body was more than ready for this.

“There,” Ty groaned as James evidently found a good spot. “God, you’re so fucking big.”

Olivia certainly could have said the same.

Anso dropped his head, his quickened breathing huffing in her ear. He released his hold on one of her hands so he could cup her breast, grunting in reaction as he felt just how tight her nipple was. Thumbing it caused Olivia to let out a strangled sound, her pussy tightening helplessly on him.

She couldn’t doubt he liked that. His face went lax with pleasure a second before he set it determinedly. He changed angles and went faster, then changed them one more time.

That angle was the one. He knocked and rubbed the right spots inside and out. Instantly overloading, Olivia cried out and came.

“God,” Anso gasped, beginning to go as well.

Energy thickened in the air. The slapping sounds James’s groin made on Ty’s buttocks turned crazy-fast. Ty groaned, then James did, and then everything Olivia was feeling got extremely intense.

It was as if she was having a four-way orgasm. In fact, it felt like all of them were. Sweet hard shocks ran through her as Anso held deep and flooded her. No one person had this many nerves, nor should they have fired this sharply all at one time. The climax was strong enough that it halfway hurt, though with a sweetness that helped explain why Ty enjoyed being spanked.

When the pleasure-pain finally released her sex, she was completely limp.

The king, on the other hand, not so much. Though it felt like he’d come oceans, his cock remained rigid inside of her. Only his face had sagged next to hers.

“Okay,” Ty panted from the other end of the bed. “Are James and I the only ones who want more of that?”

Anso groaned but not in disagreement. “I’m still hard as Hades.”

The way they were talking woke fresh quivers inside of her. She squirmed around Anso’s hardness to ease her rising itch.

“Um,” she said, “if you all wouldn’t mind, could I make a request?”

“Oh God.” Anso pressed his cock deeper. “Does it involve waiting before the next round?”

“Noo,” she said, unsureness creeping into her tone. Asking for sexual things was easier when it was just James and her.

Anso went up on his elbows to look at her. His eyes caught hers in their deep blue magic, but she sensed the others turning as well.

“I recognize that wriggle,” James said. “A break isn’t what she wants.”

She wrenched her gaze from Anso to James and then from him to Ty. All the men smiled at her, silently implying she could ask for anything. What she wanted seemed to come from somewhere even deeper than her desires, though certainly the longing was physical.

“Just ask,” Anso said gently.

“I want all of you,” she confessed. “I have such a craving to feel your cocks, I can’t even describe it. I want you to come in me, one after the other. Maybe it’s something to do with this heat, but I don’t think I’ll be satisfied until then.”

Ty’s grin was the first and the broadest. “That sounds like a kick-ass idea.”

Because Ty had spoken first, he took the lead next with her. Olivia knew his submissive streak was just that: only a part of him. What he showed her then was the mastery of a born sensualist.

He stroked her from head to toe.

Every line of her felt his sensitive fingers. Every curve. Every bend. Every muscle and digit. He kissed her nipples and her knees with almost equal interest. He nuzzled his way up her vertebrae and smoothed his palms up her arms. He turned her into a puddle of relaxation that still wanted him to take her.

“I think I’m jealous,” Anso confessed laughingly minutes later. “He’s never touched me quite like that.”

Olivia liked that he wasn’t a hundred percent joking.

“I’ll pencil you in for next week,” Ty teased back the same way.

Done with his exploration, he draped himself along her back like a living blanket. His cock throbbed hot and thick against her, the tip resting in the cleft between her buttocks.

“Mm,” he said, one hand wedging beneath her to cup her sex. “Your and James’s skin is the best.”

“I like yours.” She was so relaxed and aroused that the words were slurred. “Your body hair is so pettable.”

He chuckled—probably over the condition he’d reduced her to—and licked the side of her neck. “I think you know where I’m silkiest.”

She knew, but just in case she didn’t, he shifted to let her feel the buttery soft crest against her very wet entrance.

“Mm,” he repeated, giving a half push in. “My memory didn’t exaggerate how nice this felt.”

His whole push made her go mm. His thrusts were as luxurious as his all-over massage had been, though they massaged a more intimate place. He didn’t grow impatient as quickly as the king had. After a bit, he reared back with her still on him, taking her on his lap while she faced forward. His hands took advantage of the modified reverse cowgirl to roam up and down her front—and even then he didn’t speed up. The only sign that he was getting more excited was a greater fullness inside her and a subtle tightening of his muscles.

“Liv,” he whispered into her ear. “Would you suck off the king for me?”

The shiver his request inspired was violent enough to see. “Anso,” she said throatily. “Ty wants me to suck you off.”

He came slowly to his feet, as if watching Ty fuck her the way he was had put him in a similar dreamlike state. He stood before her on the mattress, reaching out—perhaps without thinking—to steady himself on James’s shoulder. His cock was fully erect, skin flushed, head stretched and shiny with excitement.

Now that she looked for it, she saw the tight seam in the gold fur around its base. She couldn’t dislike the evidence that he was different any more than she disliked any part of James. This was him, and because it was him, it was sexy.

“Come closer,” she said, gazing up his beautiful body into his lust-darkened face. Ty’s slow thrusts were moving her up and down, shaking her breasts and drawing Anso’s eyes to them. He stepped closer, breathed harder . . .

When she lowered her head and sucked him, all of their bodies touched.

“God,” James breathed. “That looks beautiful.”

Anso made a sound like she was hurting him really good.

“Bring him off,” Ty said, his hushed voice breaking, “and I promise you’ll bring me.”

She took her time about it. She knew this was what Ty wanted, plus Anso felt really good going in and out her mouth. Silky didn’t cover how smooth he was. The skin of his penis almost seemed delicate. Being protected most of the time certainly made it sensitive. A very little work on her part earned big responses from him.

In the end, watching his friend squirm and strain with pleasure was what snapped Ty’s control.

“Damn it,” he said, his subsequent thrust jolting into her. He had one arm clamped beneath her breasts, lifting them for Anso’s view. His other arm controlled her pelvis, bracing her for his thrusts with his hand cupped hard around her pussy. Despite its newness to him, he’d figured out a couple tricks to working her clit. He used them now as he went harder. “You might want to speed up there, Your Majesty.”

She’d been holding Anso by his hips. She held them harder as she caught Ty’s urgency. She wanted the king and Ty to go together; wanted to go with them herself. James’s hand was steadying Anso’s thigh, a handy support when Anso decided to fork all his fingers into her wavy hair.

This was too evocative for Ty.

“Shit,” he snarled behind her. “My balls are . . . going to explode.”

Olivia’s heart felt like it would do the same. She was so close to coming, and his finger had found a spot on her clit that was exquisite. Her orgasm crested between one heart-thump and another. Her neck arched back as Ty pumped and frigged her still more frenetically. The intensity of her pleasure made it impossible to continue pleasuring Anso. He grunted at her letting go, then shoved so close his cock nearly burned the side of her neck. He cupped it there, tight, and she put her hand over his. When he saw that, Ty couldn’t hold his climax in any more.

He came with a shout and a tightening of his arms, holding her prisoner for the hot flood that shot from him. Again and again he shoved into her, while Anso did the same underneath her hand, in close to the same rhythm. Ty’s chest took most of the king’s semen.

Olivia doubted he minded.

“God,” Ty said at last, sagging around her.

Anso’s cock softened on her shoulder, his hand petting slowly through her hair. Almost overcome with lassitude, she turned her face back and forth on his warm hipbone.

“I love you, Liv,” Anso said.

Olivia smiled. He was getting used to the words.

“Me too,” Ty mumbled in her ear.

“Me three?” James offered, amusement quavering in his voice.

All three men waited for a beat. Olivia burst out laughing. James and Anso she believed. Ty might not know his mind yet, but that he was willing to love her touched her deeply.

“All right, me four,” she surrendered, jumping in with both feet. “I love all of you. And I’m not just saying that because you said it first.”

“She’s polite,” James confirmed, “but she takes I love you seriously.”

“Good,” Ty said, sighing lengthily in her ear.

“Good,” Anso echoed after him.

“You could let me go,” Olivia pointed out. “I do have one more man on my to-do list.”

“Really?” Ty said, hugging her like a sleepy child with a teddy bear. “You couldn’t use a rest?”

Normally she would have, but her body was oddly energized, as if her two previous climaxes were shots of espresso that whet her appetite for James.

“No rest for the greedy,” she quipped, gently peeling his octopus arms from her. “James and I haven’t made love together since we came here.”

“Really?” This came from Anso.

James smiled at her. He was as conscious of their abstinence as her.

Reluctantly, Ty let her pull free of his cock. “I suppose the other changes in your body have reduced your recovery time. Which is good, because I kind of went at you at the end.”

Olivia kissed one corner of his apologetic mouth. “I enjoyed every minute. Maybe my queenly nature is kicking in.”

Ty snorted at the idea of her being queenly, then grinned at her. “Go on then. Have at the tall dark hottie. I should be able to stay awake long enough to watch you and your first man do the dirty.”

Olivia shook her head at him. Ty had flopped down on his side and elbow with one ear propped his hand. She’d bet her favorite calculator he’d stay awake long enough. His twice-pleasured cock hung thick on his thigh, relaxed and shining with wetness but not retracting into its pocket the way she assumed it would if he were truly indifferent.

Ty didn’t miss the direction of her glance. “You keep ogling me like that, and your harem will get jealous.”

“No worries,” she said, enjoying his humor. “I’m an equal opportunity ogler.”

She was, she realized. When she turned from Ty’s odalisque pose to her husband, what she wanted to ogle most was the warmth in his eyes.

Like her, he was on his knees on the rumpled sheets, his smile broadening as hers did. In a lot of ways, he’d made this adventure possible. Without him to share it, she’d have been too scared and guilty. With him, it became marvelous.

He tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. “You and me then.”

“You and me,” she agreed.

His hands slid down to cover and stroke her breasts. He was very erect from watching her with Ty and Anso, but his caresses were as patient as the others’ had started out. His gaze slid down her body, which made her girl parts tingle pleasantly. Her thighs were wet from the other men and herself. James’s breath hitched softly at the sight. When his eyes rose to hers again, his pupils were bigger.

“Feels like it’s been a while,” he said huskily.

Olivia slid her palms up his chest, loving the way his heart pounded under them. “It’s been an eternity since we came here.”

He smiled and kissed her, and then they renewed the part of their vows that had always helped glue them together. James slid into her like a hot slow dream. They stayed on their knees—Olivia riding James while he thrust up and held her bottom.

This was how Anso had started off taking her—and how Ty had finished, just backwards. Despite the surface similarities, with each man the act felt different. James’s hips were narrower between her thighs, his cock thicker at the head. Most importantly, the way he handled her was absolutely sure. He knew her too well to doubt he’d please her.

They traded old favorite treats: a special touch, a certain way of moving. Though the others weren’t obvious about it, Ty and Anso watched what they did as intensely as scientists studying exotic animal behavior. Here’s the devoted married couple, having sex in the wild. Olivia wondered if they realized they had more than a touch of this familiarity themselves. They too had been lovers for a long time.

Of course, not everything about making love to James was the same. Both of them were changed from before.

She’d known that from his first thrust inside of her.

The sensation of him filling her was a dial spun from ten to twenty—more acute, more pleasurable, even more intense emotionally. She’d had hints that this might happen, but actually experiencing it took her breath away.

By the time they reached the stage where they couldn’t go slow anymore, she was mewling for each penetration, and his grip had turned to iron.

“God,” he swore, jamming up into her harder. “Fuck.”

Olivia twined her arms behind his strong neck, her hips moving faster to speed up his. “Finish me. Come in me.”

His thrust went crazy. “Always,” he growled in her ear. “Always you’re the one for me.”

The fit between them got snugger as he swelled for the final drive to orgasm. He felt so good, so hard and so desperate. Possibly his glans was broader. It spread her walls so well. She reveled in his hunger for her, her pussy creaming extravagantly. She wanted to be wetter; wanted to overflow with his seed and that of the other men. The craving might not have been rational, but she couldn’t resist it.

“Not . . . just me,” she gasped in response to his last statement. “The . . . three of us . . . are yours now.”

If it wasn’t entirely true yet, she had faith it would be. The more people got to know James, the better they loved him. He was the best man she’d ever known.

He made a sound, holding her tighter as she spoke the wish he might not have known he had. “Liv—”

He ran out of breath for words. His cock plunged up into her again, triggering reactions beyond her control. Her thighs vised around him, her pussy tightening in refusal to let him withdraw. She needed him where he was, grinding against her womb.

He seemed to need that too. He cried out and ejaculated, sending her crashing over. Both their heads flung back at the sensations. She heard the others panting, fast and choppy. Someone’s come spurted hot on her hip, so Ty and Anso must have started jacking off at some point. The knowledge made her pleasure blaze higher. James squeezed her breast, and ecstasy flared so hot in her it was white.

“God,” cried Anso.

“Shi-it,” gasped Ty.

James just moaned as they spurted on him too.

As she descended, finally, the muscles of her pussy continued to spasm around her husband.

“James,” she sighed.

Her tone was slightly astonished. Sex had always been good for them, but that was phenomenal. Laughing, he lifted her gently off him. Ty and Anso were sprawled on the bed, one to either side of the now completed show. Their muscular arms rested in matching bent positions along their sides, their relaxed hands draping but not quite covering their groins. Olivia was surprised either of their seed had hit her from that distance. Maybe wereseal ejaculations had superior propulsive qualities. And maybe James’s did as well. She’d seemed to register every burst from him.

“Now we sleep,” Anso said, patting the mattress in front of him.

She and James lay down together, for the moment completely biddable. Olivia found herself face to face with Ty, who tapped her nose playfully. “Satisfied?”

“Very,” she said and closed her eyes.

They were only shut for a second when an odd sensation enveloped her. Her skin tingled all over, goose bumps prickling as the little hairs on her arms stood up. Was she floating? She couldn’t feel the covers under her. Maybe she was falling asleep. If she was, children were giggling in her dream. Three children, she was sure.

Olivia’s eyes snapped open. Oh my God, she thought. I’m pregnant. With triplets. She’d known something like this might happen. In truth, she’d wanted it, and nonetheless it came as a shock. No, she thought. I must be imagining it.

Anso had sworn he’d sense the instant she conceived, and he wasn’t saying a word.

Definitely imagining it, she told herself.

“Hm,” Ty said, seemingly in his sleep. Except he wasn’t sleeping. His eyelids fluttered up so he could consider her with drowsy yellow eyes. “Hm,” he said again, a smile beginning to stretch his seducer’s mouth. His gaze dropped down her naked body to where she’d unthinkingly pressed her hand over her belly.

“I’m not,” she said, barely breathing it.

“You are,” he countered and held up three fingers. He appeared to find her amazement funny, laughing softly as he closed his eyes again. “Boy are we in for it.”

“In for what?” Anso mumbled from the other side of James.

“Nothing,” Ty said. “Olivia can tell you when we wake up.”

Anso must have been too tired to press. They had been up all day and all night.

“C’mere,” Ty said and pulled her half over him.

Her miraculous—and life-changing—revelation should have kept her awake for hours. Instead, as James rolled closer and Anso rolled after him, a warm and very sweet peace filled her. She was surrounded by men who cared for her, men she felt proud to call her own. Maybe—probably—she was going to have their children, a dream she’d nearly given up on. Surely no woman ever was luckier.

She wondered if Ty’s baby radar matched hers in all respects. She’d had the definite impression these children weren’t just Anso’s. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she’d sensed three of them.

I’m a cat, she joked to herself. With a different daddy for each kitten.

The possibility made her smile. Ty’s heart beat slow and steady beneath her cheek, the same as James’s beat behind her. Ty pressed a kiss to her hair.

“’Night,” Anso slurred.

’Night, she thought to the three gigglers.

To her own amusement, she dropped into sleep as easily as an exhausted four-year-old.

~

James wasn’t the first to wake. That honor belonged to Anso, as James discovered when he sat up and looked around the rich but comfortable bedchamber.

Olivia and Ty were fast asleep, snuggling together like each other’s favorite toy. James smiled at that. Them caring for each other made James caring for Ty less fraught. Besides that, it warmed his heart. Everyone ought to love his Olivia . . . and maybe everyone ought to love his Ty.

We’re bloodmates, he thought, trying out the words. Me and Olivia. Me and Ty. In body and spirit.

He didn’t remember Ty from another life, but the connection felt as fated as his and Olivia’s. He padded to the bathroom naked, his body invigorated but also calm. As he peed without having to work around a monster hard-on, he concluded their four-way heat must be done.

He didn’t mind. Taking their time making love, without everything seeming so damn urgent would be nice . . . at least until the next time their hormones went crazy.

Happy about that too, he shaved in the shower, whistling softly to himself through the spray. When his face was smooth, he stepped out, dried off, and pulled on one of Anso’s seemingly endless supply of blue and silver robes.

This reminded him he was the king’s mate as well.

He doubted Olivia needed reminding. She seemed to have accepted the bond once and for all last night.

Unexplored territory, he thought, resettling his robe’s lapels before going in search of his own New World. He was glad Olivia was sleeping. These were waters he needed to navigate personally.

He found the object of his search when he entered the dining room—or rather, he found the other side of Anso. The windows were large here, and there was a long line of them. He had no trouble spotting Anso’s seal form swimming sleekly among the coral.

Oddly enough, even before seeing his deep blue eyes, James knew it was the king.

The rosy bars of light declared the hour near sunset. Anso’s seal form flickered between the spokes, almost as purely silver as the eels on James’s robes. He moved at a clip James didn’t think he could match, despite his recent physical improvements. Anso’s muscles and streamlining were designed for cutting through water. Swiftness aside, he didn’t seem agitated as he undulated around the garden. James suspected this was his version of a relaxing stroll. He was stretching out and enjoying his alternate body.

He shot upward suddenly, joining a school of bright blue fish in rising toward the light above. James lost sight of him for a minute before he torpedoed down again.

Boy, he thought. Liv and I sure got ourselves into something different.

Anso might have been aware of him all along, but only after his velocity slowed did he approach the dining room windows. Hanging there in the crystal water, he stared at James with strange-familiar eyes. Shivers coursed down James’s spine, the sense of wonder that gripped him like nothing else he’d experienced.

This is magic, he thought. This, right in front of me.

He wondered if Anso felt this way when he looked at Olivia.

Anso’s seal form blinked at him.

“Hey,” James said, flattening one hand on the cool window. “Hello again.”

He wasn’t sure Anso could hear through the glass, but he could see his lips. Anso bobbed his graceful silver head, then jerked it to the left.

“Meet you in your office?” James asked.

Anso nodded again and disappeared in that direction.

Anso was wet, naked, and on two legs when he emerged from the silver-gold changing hatch. Prepared for this, James handed him a pair of towels.

“Thank you,” Anso said, wrapping one around his waist and using the other to dry his hair. “Did you sleep well?”

James broke into a laugh. “You’re very polite,” he said when Anso lifted his brows at him.

“It’s how I was raised.”

Momentarily abashed, James reminded himself this man had had his mouth on his cock. Polite was hardly the sum of his character. “I believe in good manners,” he conceded. “When they don’t get in my way too much.”

“Are they in your way now?”

Anso asked this politely too. James put one hand on the still damp stretch of muscle between Anso’s neck and shoulder, squeezing just a bit to coax him to relax.

“No,” he said, smiling to ease the sting, “but perhaps yours are.”

Anso didn’t shake off his hold, though as royalty, people wouldn’t have touched him like this often. “I’m not certain I understand you.”

“You’re a little jealous of me. Because Olivia and I have a history. That evens out, though, because I’m a little jealous of you, for all the nice discoveries you and she have ahead of you.”

“There’s also Ty,” Anso said.

“There is, and I do envy your closeness. But that will even out in time as well. I’m used to taking a long view of life.”

The tension in the king’s shoulder eased, and James was glad for it. Then his drowning blue eyes narrowed. “There’s something else. You want to bargain with me. Does it involve you and Olivia traveling?”

“We can hash that out when Olivia is around. I’d like to discuss this triad thing I’ve overheard a couple people talking about. I know it’s probably an honor, and you might not actually plan to make me your third, but the truth is I don’t want the position.”

“You don’t.” Fortunately, Anso sounded more curious than insulted.

“Well, I’m sure you’re a decent boss, but I’m older than you, and I’ve got more experience. Plus, I hate politics.”

“What sane person doesn’t?” Anso asked dryly.

“Exactly,” James said. “So I don’t envy you that. The thing is, I’d really rather start a new business here. Ground up. No special royal favors. Just me and whatever interesting idea I come up with. And Olivia, now and then, if you can spare her from queening. She’s a great accountant.”

Anso was smiling as he folded his arms. His pecs really were impressive. And his biceps. And the rippling abs that dove underneath his towel. “You’ve thought this through.”

“Yes,” James said, yanking back his focus. His nerves were fluttering more than he expected. He might be older than Anso, but the man did have gravitas.

Anso lowered his head and shook it as if amused. “You and I.”

“You and I?” James repeated, not following him.

Anso looked up and socked him with his blue eyes. James comforted himself that he had nearly the same pair. Maybe his eyes were socking Anso too.

The king cleared his throat. “There’s a buzz between us, not just between you and Ty or me and Olivia.”

“Yes,” James agreed, feeling himself blushing. “I figured we’d work that out as we go along.”

“I’d like that.” Anso shifted, uncrossing his arms and unexpectedly taking James’s hand from his shoulder to hold between both his own. The clasp wasn’t what James’s had been with Ty, but it wasn’t a handshake either. James decided he liked it.

“There’s something else you need to know,” Anso said. “Something I noticed when I woke up this morning that affects all of us. I hope it’s going to please you.”

“I’m all ears,” James assured him.

Anso’s smile broke out like sunshine. “Olivia is pregnant. All of us are going to be fathers.”

“All of us?”

“I sensed three life energies, each linked to one of us.”

“Wow,” James said, metaphorically knocked on his ass. “You knew this, and you didn’t bust out with it right away?” He realized he was gripping Anso’s hand really hard, but couldn’t make himself let go. “Wow.”

“You’re happy about this?”

“Yes,” James said. “It’s fast, but yes.” His knees were wobbly, so he propped his hips back on Anso’s desk. He flashed back to the video they’d watched where the little boy turned into a seal pup. “Kids.”

“Three of them.”

“Will they all be able to change?”

“Very likely. Which will make them quite the handful when they turn five or so.”

He laughed. “I can’t even imagine!”

Anso bumped his shoulder, their hands now tangled together between their thighs. “Will Olivia be glad?”

“She’ll be elated. She’s wanted this. And to have kids with all of us will suit her down to the ground. Olivia really likes making the people she loves happy. To leave any of us out would have worried her. You’ve no idea how perfect this is.”

When Anso blew out a breath, James saw he’d been more nervous than he’d let on. “Good,” he said. “I wanted to tell her as soon as I noticed, but I wasn’t certain how she’d react.”

“Will Ty be happy?”

“He’ll be scared to death, but he’ll make a great father.”

Seeing the look on Anso’s face—the fondness, the deep knowledge of his friend—drew such a fount of love up in James that he felt as if he adored the entire world. Since Anso was there, he was who James pulled into a back slapping hug.

Anso returned it with interest. “I’m glad you’re here to help. I’m a little scared myself.”

They pushed back from each other with matching grins. “Let’s go tell them,” they said in unison.

Epilogue

THE last Meimeyo returned on his own to the basilica. No one knew where he’d been or what he’d been up to since helping rescue Oceana, only that he’d appeared with a wider than usual dragon smile.

By popular acclaim, the city staged a victory parade for Olivia, which she found simultaneously moving and uncomfortable. Oceanans knew James had been right beside her saving the city. They also knew—because careful statements had been issued—that King Anso had formed a four-way blood bond, rather than the simpler historically accepted triad. Evidently, the city felt more comfortable feting her individually. Fertile and pretty queens they knew their opinion on. The rest they preferred to gloss over.

Both Ty and James thought her umbrage on their behalf was amusing.

On the brighter side, the celebration did distract from the dozen of Ellice’s friends and employees who’d been sent to jail after a long scandal-laden trial. Happily, Mrs. Bonn was cleared early on of complicity. Though she’d recommended Lajos as a hairdresser, she’d been taken in by him like others. For a while, the consultant was so aghast at her own poor judgment she couldn’t see Olivia without apologizing. Olivia was relieved she’d gotten over that.

She didn’t know how she’d have dressed herself today otherwise. Left to herself, she only cared about three accessories: the two rings on her left hand and the three-pearl pendant Ty had given her the day they brought her and the triplets home from the maternity ward. “Our kids are lucky to have you for a mother,” he’d said, which made her cry like a baby.

Now all their hormones were under better control—a side effect of nursing, according to Pinni. With that issue settled, they’d traveled to Resurrection, the thriving Pocket city north of Manhattan. It was the family’s first visit to dry land since the triplets were born. Before she’d started showing, she and James had spent a weekend with her parents in Flagstaff. Arizona was too arid for Ty and Anso, but the wereseals had accompanied them to Charleston to meet James’s folks. Some awkwardness had ensued when James’s dad realized the four of them were together together, but he’d lost most of his prickle by the visit’s end. This might have been helped along by Anso and Ty taking him deep water fishing, a sport he loved that his son wasn’t too keen on. Olivia didn’t know exactly how Ty and the king arranged it, but James’s dad had hooked the biggest marlin of his life with them.

“Those boys are all right,” he’d conceded gruffly to her at their departure. “I think you and James are crazy, but you all seem happy enough.”

She’d hugged him goodbye and thanked her very lucky stars that James wasn’t going to lose his folks’ affection over their unusual marital status. Lying about it hadn’t been an option—at least not for the men.

It wasn’t an option when it came to Violet either. Olivia simply wished it were. They were here today to meet her.

Seeing how nervous Olivia was, Ty reached across Anso to squeeze her hand. They’d made reservations at Sardino’s, Resurrection’s nicest seafood restaurant. Since the day was sunny, they were sitting at the outside tables overlooking the tourist pier. A handful of royal bodyguards were posted here and there, but she barely noticed them anymore. The triplets—who thankfully loved traveling—were sitting quietly in their stroller, thoroughly occupied in goggling at their surroundings with eyes as big as saucers. The moment LoLo started to fuss, Anso lifted her into his arms. She wasn’t walking yet, but her legs were strong enough to bounce her on Anso’s thighs. She did that while she enjoyed her new and higher viewing perch.

“Daa!” Konnor complained. All the men—and occasionally Olivia—were “Da” to the children. Hoping to head off a full-on wail, Ty extricated him from the stroller too. Ty had gone from being the most worried of their parental trio to the most assured. When all else failed, he was handed a problem child. Usually he could soothe it, a fact he sometimes like to rub in. I’m not just the third, he’d crow. I’m The Man!

Left by himself in the stroller, Ollie stared accusingly at her.

“All right,” she said, “but if you start grizzling because I’m anxious, don’t blame me.”

“Just how conservative is your daughter?” Anso asked, his steady pat on LoLo’s bottom lulling her.

“Not terribly.” Clucking her tongue with dismay, Olivia grabbed a cloth napkin before Ollie could drool on her nice silk blouse. “She just prefers her parents to act like parents.”

She squinted at the restaurant’s roped-off terrace entrance, mentally cursing the “normal” colored contacts that made her eyes feel weird. She still didn’t see James or Violet. The suburban train from New York had been scheduled to arrive half an hour ago. James should have collected her by now. She rubbed Ollie’s warm little back to calm herself, her towheaded punkin fortunately oblivious to her mood. Oliver was their only blondie, LoLo was a redhead, and Konnor was russet brown. Ollie was as serious as he was cute. Perhaps to compensate for his sober nature, he had a scattering of Ty’s leopard spots on his adorable chubby butt.

“Do you think something went wrong with the invitation?” she asked worriedly.

Outsiders like their daughter couldn’t pass through Resurrection’s protective wards without a formal invitation from a resident. One of the werewolf cops who’d assisted during the almost-earthquake had been kind enough to send Violet one.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Anso said, rubbing her knee even as he nuzzled LoLo’s little ear. “Most likely the train was late, or they ran into traffic. This will be okay, Liv. From everything James has told us, your daughter adores you.”

Olivia’s eyes burned with sudden tears. Violet was Violet, and you never quite knew how she’d react to big changes. Discovering her forty-something mother had married two more men and given birth to triplets was a lot to take in. Violet had enjoyed being an only child.

And then she was there, striding along the old cobbled street that led through the warehouse district to Sardino’s. James was beside her, and they were laughing and talking. Olivia covered her mouth. Her daughter was so beautiful and chic. Taking over as CEO of Forster Media had agreed with her as much as being Anso’s third agreed with Ty. Mrs. Bonn would definitely approve of Violet’s smart blue suit and heels.

“Mother!” she exclaimed from the hostess’s podium.

“Go,” Anso said, pulling Ollie from her lap so she could.

Olivia’s tears spilled over as she rose. Though her vision was blurry, she saw Violet had no trouble running to meet her in her stylish shoes.

“Mommy,” she said, squeezing her tight in that wonderful way she had. Violet was nearly as tall as James and leaned down to her. “I’m sorry we’re late. Daddy filled me in on the way and we stopped to talk.”

When Violet pushed back, the rims of her eyes were red. Olivia concluded that must have been some talk. However upset her daughter had been, it seemed mostly behind her. Violet smiled at her. “You could have told me, you know. You and Dad must have sent me a thousand emails since I took over as CEO.”

“It seemed like something we ought to, er, spring on you in person.”

“Spring on me is right!” Violet laughed, but a hint of stress ran through it. Olivia suspected James had taken their daughter’s doubts and fears on himself, then talked her out of venting them on her mother.

“I am sorry, sweetheart,” she said. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m aware your father and I have been eccentric.”

“You’re happy,” Violet said staunchly. “And so is Dad. I’d have to be blind not to notice that. You look great, by the way. Are you doing your hair differently?”

“Something like that,” Olivia said dryly, glad her daughter didn’t think she looked too changed. “Would you like to meet the others?”

“I would,” Violet said. “Especially if I can sit down and get off these heels.”

There was a predictable flurry as they reached the table, where James had gone ahead. Anso and Ty rose to shake her hand, each with a baby balanced in the crook of his arm. They seemed easier with Violet than she was with them, but that was to be expected. They at least had warning. As deft at baby juggling as the rest, James passed LoLo to Olivia, then pulled out a chair for Violet between them. Her parents might have given her a shock, but they’d flank her as always.

“Would you like to hold Konnor?” Ty offered after she was settled. “He’d probably enjoy it. He’s quite the flirt.”

Violet agreed to this idea, and Ty passed his armload across to her. Violet stood Konnor on her short blue skirt, which was almost the same color as the baby’s eyes. Konnor and Ollie both had an inner circle of yellow in their irises, but unless you saw them in the right light, it wasn’t obvious.

“Look at you,” Violet said, bouncing Konnor experimentally. “What a cutie you are with your big blue eyes!”

“Gaa!” Konnor agreed before breaking into a throaty chortle and batting his eyelashes. Ty hadn’t been kidding about the king’s son being a flirt.

Violet laughed in return, because who could resist baby giggles? “You’re my little brother,” she said. “I bet you didn’t know that.”

Konnor flapped his dimpled hands and tried to sit down.

“All right,” Violet said, turning him around so he could. “I guess I’m holding you for a while.”

She looked so natural with a baby in her lap Olivia couldn’t help drawing breath to speak. Surely, she’d explode with happiness if Violet—

“No.” Violet cut her off with a scolding finger. “You are not allowed to pester me about grandkids until these three are teenagers.”

Reluctantly, Olivia conceded that was fair. “So . . .” she said. “How was your train ride?”

“Fine,” Violet answered, a twitch of her mouth the only sign that she thought this question a bit banal. “The funny thing is, no one got off at this stop but me. And there was this taxi driver outside the station who’d painted his whole face blue. Is there a college team around here whose logo is that color?”

“There must be,” Olivia said as Ty and Anso exchanged glances. They’d warned her Violet might or might not notice Resurrection’s oddities. All Pocket territories were charmed against Outsiders seeing their true nature, but sometimes plain old humans were sensitive.

“Resurrection seems like a pretty city,” Violet went on. “It’s strange I’ve never heard of it before.”

“It is,” Olivia said, “but it’s a good place to meet.”

Violet picked up her menu. Comically, it looked like both she and Konnor were perusing it. Olivia suspected neither of them read a word. Violet was gnawing at her beautifully lipsticked mouth.

“Venice is so far away!” she burst out. “I know Dad’s new transport business is taking off, but couldn’t you base it somewhere closer? None of you are even Italian!”

They were something more exotic than Italian, but they’d reached a consensus that sharing the whole truth with Violet would be premature.

“It’s not impossibly far,” Anso soothed. “All of us are busy, as we’re sure you are, but we’ll make time to visit. I really want your brothers and sister to have a chance to know you.”

Anso’s eyes were bright with sincerity. Olivia saw that, as much as he’d prepared himself to meet (and like) her and James’s firstborn, Violet hadn’t become real until she was in front of him.

“I miss them,” she said more moderately, clearly trying to contain a pout. “I know I’m grown up, but I do.”

Anso smiled at her so beautifully Violet appeared momentarily dazzled. “I’d miss them too, if I were in your shoes. Your mother and father are wonderful people.”

“Thanksgiving,” Violet said firmly, abruptly all CEO.

“Excuse me?” Anso said, startled by her bossy tone.

Violet didn’t know he was a king, and might not have been cowed in any case. She squared her shoulders. “You can have Christmas, but I’m claiming Thanksgiving. The grandparents will want to see you, so we’ll meet in Charleston. I’ll book a B&B that takes children.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Yes, Violet,” Ty cut in, silencing Anso’s doubts with a gentle hand on his arm. “We’ll meet you in Charleston with bells on.”

“Bybeh!” LoLo loudly announced as she squirmed in Olivia’s lap.

Violet’s mouth fell open. “Did she just say my name?”

“Bybeh!” Konnor chimed in, smacking Violet’s menu onto the table.

“Bababa!” was Ollie’s contribution. Anso kissed the top of his downy head. Oliver always had to be different. James petted his golden hair from the other side, his hand stroking Anso’s wrist as easily as it did Ty’s child.

The moment struck Olivia as perfect: all her men and all her babies, sitting at the same table. She’d experienced an awful lot of happiness since committing herself to her mates, but this golden day had to top them all. This was a gift no one could be sweet enough to deserve. Sharing it was the only way to say thank you.

“This is good, Vi,” James said, grinning sideways at their firstborn. “Look how many more of us there are to love you now.”

“Hmph,” Violet said, but she was grinning too.

# # #

Hungry for more wereseals?

“DATE NIGHT”

OLIVIA Forster never dreamed she’d one day serve as queen of an enchanted city beneath the sea—something her three sexy husbands know. Though she adores her shapeshifting mates, she’s shy by nature, and they can tell the strain of always being “on” is beginning to wear on her. Sneaking away from their responsibilities won’t be easy, but come hell or high water, they’ll treat her to a night she won’t soon forget!

a digital short story

Hidden Crimes . . .

CATS and dogs shouldn’t fall in love. Like any wolf, detective Nate Rivera knows this. He can’t help it if the tigress he’s been trading quips with at the supermarket is the most alluring woman he’s ever met—sassy too, which suits him down to his designer boots.

Evina Mohajit is aware their flirtation can’t lead to more. Still, she relishes trading banter with the hot werewolf. This hardworking single mom hasn’t felt so female since her twins’ baby daddy left to start his new family. Plus, as a station chief in Resurrection’s Fire Department, she understands the demands of a dangerous job.

Their will-they-or-won’t-they tango could go on forever if it weren’t for the mortal peril the city’s shifter children fall into. To save them, Nate and Evina must team up, a choice that ignites the sparks smoldering between them.

“Weaving the police procedural with her inventive love scenes [made] this book one I could not put down.”—The Romance Reviews
available in ebook and print

Chapter One

IF a cop was a werewolf, the half-fae city of Resurrection was a fine place to work. America’s only supe-friendly metropolis offered plenty of excitement. Just as important, shifters didn’t have to hide their dual nature. RPD detective Nate Rivera was glad of that. He liked being who he was.

He especially liked that his spacious loft apartment was a perfect expression of his personality.

The decor was sharp of course, every item selected for style and quality. He’d bought the converted warehouse space in his early twenties, with money his mother (a decorated cop herself) had left him at her death. A couple payments remained on the mortgage but—like the rest of his life—that was under control.

Nate never spent more than he could afford. None of his vintage modern furnishings indicated financial recklessness. Because detective salaries weren’t princely, he saved up for his treasures on a strict schedule. His exposed brick walls displayed a gallery of miniature city scenes, which weren’t purchased on first sight. Though he often fell in love with pieces in a moment, he took time to consider.

Did the paintings fit his collection? Would the amount he’d saved cover what the artist was asking? If it wouldn’t, Nate denied himself. Okay, now and then he succumbed, but that was only because art gave him so much pleasure. Everybody needed a weakness. This one had the advantage of suiting his image of himself.

Just because he was a werewolf didn’t mean he wasn’t civilized.

What didn’t suit his image of himself was the brown-paper twine-handle bag that perched on his authentic Arne Jacobsen egg chair.

With arms crossed over his gym-honed chest, he stared at it balefully. One alligator-booted foot tapped his polished cement floor.

Nate had bought a present for his pack alpha’s wife. He’d gotten it on impulse, just spotted it in a shop window, turned on his heel, and went in. He hadn’t asked what it cost. He’d simply handed over his ResEx card. Finding out what it did cost hadn’t stopped him either. Instead, he’d clenched his jaw and told the owner he preferred tissue paper wrapping—plain white, if she had it.

Nate had no excuse for spending so much money on a woman he wasn’t sleeping with. Ari’s birthday wasn’t until November, and her baby shower had been a while ago. For that matter, the baby wasn’t new anymore. Kelsey was two months old, though this was the first time since her birth that the pack would eat all together at Adam’s house.

“It’s those damned women’s faults,” he muttered. “They should have let us come.”

According to Rick’s sister Maria, baby showers were for girls, and all girls deserved a break from testosterone now and then. To hear her talk, you’d think werewolves being real men was cause for regret. Ari was human and could be forgiven, but Maria was a werewolf herself. She should have known better.

Were-males had as much right to celebrate the birth of babies as anyone.

More wolflike grumbles were rising in Nate’s throat when the deadbolt on his industrial style door turned. Instinct and training took over. He whipped his off-duty Smith & Wesson from its ankle holster. Half a second later, his sense of smell informed him who the intruder was.

“Don’t shoot,” said the half-laughing voice of Tony Lupone, fellow RPD detective and younger brother to their pack’s second in command.

Like all Adam’s wolves, he had a key to Nate’s home.

“You could knock,” Nate pointed out as Tony stuck his grinning head cautiously inside. His hair was a rich dark brown like his brother Rick’s, slightly wavy and—per usual—in need of a good styling.

“Forgot,” he said unashamedly. “Besides which, knocking would ruin my chances of catching you naked.” Seeing he wasn’t going to be shot, Tony stepped inside and gave Nate a onceover. He wagged his heavy Lupone eyebrows. “Nice boots, GQ.”

“I told you not to joke like that. Just because you left the closet doesn’t mean you can flirt with everyone. Hit on the wrong werewolf, and you’ll find yourself taking a dirt nap.”

“It’s just you. I have to practice on someone.”

Despite Tony’s unconcerned attitude, Nate occasionally worried his teasing was more than practice. Rick’s little brother had been out over a year now. While Resurrection didn’t have a flourishing were-gay scene, he should have had sufficient time to hook up with someone. Back when Tony had played straight, he’d had no trouble snagging girls.

Tony was a good-looking kid, but Nate didn’t swing that way. Nor was he a fan of awkward heart-to-hearts.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pushing that idea aside. “Dinner is at Adam’s place. You live in his same building.”

Tony pulled an unexpectedly sheepish face. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t walk in alone. I did something weird today.”

The lowest ranking member of their pack was no clothes horse. Tony wore ripped jeans, beat-up running shoes and a clean but faded polo shirt. From behind his back he brought out a crumpled package. The pink and yellow duck-printed paper looked like it had been wrapped and unwrapped a couple times. The tape that was supposed to secure it no longer did.

“It’s a stuffed bunny,” Tony confessed, holding out the pitiful bundle. “I was picking up the beer, and there was this toy store across the street. I couldn’t resist going in. I mean, I should have gotten a bear or something. A wolf at least. But I saw those stupid floppy ears, and I couldn’t control myself. I kept thinking about the baby snuggling up with it for her naps.”

“Kelsey is a girl,” Nate said, trying to be fair.

“Maria’s a girl. When she was little, she slept with a Transformer. She’d wake up with its shape dented in her cheek.”

Maria was Rick and Tony’s older sister, a married woman with a pup of her own. Nate cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I got something for the baby too.”

Tony blinked at him, then flashed a delighted grin, causing Nate to regret sharing this with him. “You did? What did you get?” He spied the handle bag on his red-and-black cow print chair. “Ooh,” he said, snatching it before Nate could stop him. His ooh changed to a gasp as he peeked inside.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, lifting out the quilted white velvet blanket. He didn’t usually sound gay, but that oh my God wasn’t hetero. He shook out the baby quilt for a better look, making Nate want to grab it from him to refold. The intricate hand stitching formed the shape of a Tree of Life. “This must have cost a fortune.”

“It’s secondhand,” Nate said defensively.

“It’s antique. And it’s fricking spelled.” Tony looked at him wide-eyed, his werewolf senses having registered the enchantment.

“It’s white. If it weren’t spelled, stains wouldn’t come out in the wash.”

Giving in to his compulsion, Nate extricated the blanket from Tony’s grip. The younger man watched him fold and restore it to its tissue paper nest. “You must have blown your spending budget for a whole month.”

Three was more like it, not that Nate would admit that. Impatient to shut down the topic, he grabbed the keys he’d thrown in the vintage Cuban cigar box he kept for the purpose of storing them. “I’m sure it’s just some primitive uncle instinct. In the wild, whole packs help take care of pups. We bought those presents because Ari married our alpha.”

“I’ll go along with that,” Tony said. Seeing Nate was ready, he opened the door for him. Despite the classic subordinate behavior, his sudden smile was mischievous. “You could pretend you’d bought the rabbit too. Then only one of us would have to explain.”

“Nobody would believe it,” Nate was happy to say. “Not with that half-assed wrapping job you did.”

“Sometimes,” Tony said as they trotted down the warehouse stairs, “you’re totally the gay one.”

Nate knew some people believed this; he was particular. He didn’t give a shit about their misconceptions, as long as Tony knew better.

The bright August sun turned the lush green shade of the pavement trees into an oasis. Nate liked to think of the neighborhood they lived in as upscale blue collar. Pretty century-old brownstones shared the oak-lined street with small bodegas and restaurants. Lots of folks who resided here had done so for generations. The area was maybe a quarter wolf, but other races had put roots down too. Even more than the street he’d grown up on, this one felt like home to him.

Tony waved to the corner grocer while Nate nodded. Mrs. Marinelli, the half-blind human music teacher, slowed her ancient Volkswagen to let them sprint across the street. Spells laid on the engine kept her from hitting people, as did the locals’ knowledge of who she was. Fortunately, she rarely drove farther than ten blocks.

Tony twisted back to watch the sweet old lady try to gun the car, which was refusing to accelerate into the path of a squirrel. Leashed to his post and jealous, the grocer’s friendly German shepherd barked wildly. “We really should take her license. She’s ancient in human years.”

“Adam submitted a request,” Nate informed him. “The neighborhood association’s been complaining.”

“Well, good.” Tony bounded up the next stoop. They’d reached Adam’s well-kept brownstone, a mere two blocks from Nate’s loft. “Not that I’d want to break the news. Mrs. M can swing that purse of hers pretty hard.”

The street door wasn’t locked, so Tony simply held it open, allowing Nate to precede him. “Too bad about the curse that witch put on her. Otherwise, we could take up a collection and have the elves fix her eyes.”

Nate grunted in answer, his mind on other things as he climbed the stairs to Adam’s apartment on the top floor. Rick and Tony owned the lower floors, and they all shared the big roof deck. Since the brothers were Adam’s blood cousins, this had the effect of making the building smell like Adam’s private turf. Nate was Adam’s cousin as well, but only by marriage. For him, meetings with his alpha, who was also his lieutenant and therefore his boss, were always a bit tricky.

Nate, Adam, and Rick had attended the same class at the Academy. Of the three, Nate’s scores in every form of testing had been the best. Rick and Adam had superior body mass, Adam being solidly six-one while Rick topped out at a muscle-bound six-four. In spite of Nate being a lean six-footer, in most styles of fighting he could take them. He won the sharpshooter medal. His times for the quarter mile on two legs broke a six-year record. Nate knew the RPD manual back and forth and swiftly grew famous (or infamous, depending on who you spoke to) for the precision of his reports. Despite these accomplishments, when the mysterious werewolf trait known as dominance entered the equation, Nate came up short on X factor.

The Resurrection Police Department was overwhelmingly made up of wolves. Squads were organized along pack lines, with leadership decided by ritual face-offs between members in animal form. Given his superior talents and intense drive, Nate had expected to be alpha. At worst, he’d braced himself to serve as beta. When both Adam’s and Rick’s wolves had been able to master his, it was a hard shock to him.

Adam was a good leader, and Rick was certainly affable, but sometimes that shock still stung. Nate didn’t want either man to guess he resented coming third—in part for pride’s sake, and in part because he liked them. Schooling his body language not to give him away was worth some concentration. By the time he strolled into the Santini entryway, no one would have thought he wasn’t completely self-assured.

Directly across from the open door was Adam’s cramped kitchen. Inside, Rick and his parents were putting the final touches on a giant pan of lasagna before it went into the oven. Nate threw them all a hey, then turned to the living room.

If he’d been a painter, he’d have tried to capture the scene he found. Adam’s living space was the opposite of his own. Here comfort trumped style, hand-me-downs supplanted vintage, and no one got upset if the twenty-year-old curtains clashed with the threadbare rugs. Somehow, the place was beautiful anyway. Even empty of people, it radiated warmth. It soaked it up from Adam’s goodhearted nature, from the bond he and Ari shared. The presence of pack on the old-fashioned furniture made the air glow gold. The wolf in him approved every inch of the Santini residence, even if the human chose differently.

When his gaze found Ari and the baby in the overstuffed rocking chair, a smile he couldn’t have repressed tugged up his features.

The pair was adorable: Ari with her spiky and—at the moment—strawberry colored hair, the baby with her dark little tuft and her big round eyes. Built on the same slight lines as her human mother, the two-month-old’s footie sleeper was printed with unicorns.

The previous year, Ari had earned Nate’s respect by helping the squad take down a bad guy. Earning his admiration had required no more than being attractive and female. Her turning out to be a devoted wife and mother won over parts of him he didn’t have names for.

“How are my favorite girls?” he asked, a shade of something extra in his trademark lady-killer croon.

He crossed the small cluttered room to Ari’s shabby throne, his excellent peripheral vision marking everyone who was there. Ari’s human friends Max and Sarah held hands on the love seat. Maria and her husband Johnny leaned forward on the couch, apparently ready to grab their five-year-old by the scruff if he forgot his P’s and Q’s. Ethan knelt on the window seat, craning to see the birds, but he glanced back at Nate’s approach. Adam, alpha of them all, stood behind Ari’s chair. One hand rested on its back while the other held a barely touched bottle of elf ale. He was casual but imposing, a smiling but alert paterfamilias.

Having reached his goal, Nate bent to stroke the baby’s head and kiss Ari’s cheek gently. Married lady or not, she was too pretty not to get his flirt on with.

“‘Your’ girls are fine,” Ari said dryly, shifting Kelsey around to her shoulder to pat her little back. “We’re waking up from our nap and feeling extremely grateful we’re not cooking.”

“Nate might be grateful too,” Adam said with his own dryness. Ari had her talents, but cooking wasn’t one.

Emotion swelled in Nate without warning, the feeling so intense he suspected it was his wolf’s. Being with pack pulled his beast closer to the surface. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, just unnerving. Instincts drove his wolf’s reactions, responses that weren’t under Nate’s direct control. He tried to simply go with the wave of warmth, but it was difficult. He needed these people. He loved these people. Sometimes, though, he knew he’d never be all he could as long as they were around.

“Boss,” Nate said to his alpha, his tone touched by throatiness.

“Nate,” Adam acknowledged.

Unaccountably tense, Nate’s hand tightened on the bag he was carrying.

“Is that a puh-resent for Kelsey?” Nate’s honorary nephew Ethan piped. The five-year-old was finally learning to say his r’s. The poorly hidden hope in his expression told Nate he should have brought a gift for him too.

“It is,” he said, joining the boy on the window seat. “Since she’s so little, do you suppose you could help her open it?”

Ethan considered this, then held out his arms to accept the bag. The tissue paper seemed to entertain him. The blanket he pronounced boring, though he did walk it over to Ari, where he plunked it grumpily on her knees.

“Ethan,” his mother scolded. “Don’t call other people’s presents boring.”

“You told me not to lie,” Ethan returned reasonably.

Nate wasn’t sure the boy understood why the adults laughed. Fortunately for Nate, their amusement smoothed over the awkwardness his expensive gift might have stirred. Subordinates weren’t supposed to show their superiors up.

“Very thoughtful,” Adam said, sending him a level look over his wife’s spiky scarlet head. Nate was pretty certain he’d spotted the spellwork.

“It’s beautiful.” Ari’s fingers stroked the white velvet. “If Kelsey won’t take naps on it, I will.”

“It’s spelled,” Nate felt compelled to explain. “Whatever gets on it will wash out.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Ari said, her brows beginning to rise.

“I have a present for Kelsey too,” Tony interrupted, thrusting out his bedraggled package.

“Wow.” Obviously not expecting such a fuss at a simple dinner, Ari took the gift. When she dug through the crumple to find the contents, her face split into a grin. “A bunny! Oh Tony, it’s adorable!”

“It’s not magic or anything,” he said, his cheeks flushing at her pleasure, “but the saleslady promised it doesn’t have any parts Kelsey can swallow.”

“It’s perfect,” Ari assured him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you all being so nice to me.”

She wasn’t just saying this. As she turned between Nate and Tony, her cornflower eyes shone with tears. Nate couldn’t decide if he was touched or uncomfortable. Ari was an Outsider, a human from the non-magic world that surrounded Resurrection’s fae-created reality. Nate knew pieces of her story: that she’d been born telekinetic and her powers had freaked out her conservative parents, that she’d lived as a street kid in Manhattan before accidentally stumbling past their borders. Given her reaction to his and Tony’s gifts, Nate concluded she hadn’t been wallowing in love and care out there.

Seeing this, he understood why Adam strove so fiercely to make her feel cherished.

Ethan saved the moment from getting too sentimental by throwing his sturdy body theatrically on the floor. “Ugh,” he declared. “Babies get all the presents!”

Nate scooped him off the carpet before his father could swat his butt. “Brat,” he said, giving the boy a toss that made him giggle. “Why don’t you and I play on the roof until dinner is ready?”

“Yes!” Ethan crowed. “No poopie girls allowed!”

“Ethan,” his parents scolded in unison.

“Let him be,” Nate advised, aware they were embarrassed by their son’s jealousy. He turned his attention to the boy. “Maybe Grant will play catch with us.”

Grant was the gargoyle who nested on Adam’s roof. Like most of his race, he was smarter than he let on. Despite being as big as a minibus, he was the safest, most protective friend Ethan could have had.

“I love Grant!” the boy declared, flinging his arms around Nate’s neck.

Nate had to smile at that. Jealousy notwithstanding, Ethan’s heart had plenty of love in it.

They’d almost reached the door when Adam’s pager buzzed. Nate turned back and caught Ari giving Adam a look that blended resignation and wry humor, one that said whatever this was, he’d better be careful.

“Noo,” Ethan moaned, knowing what the sound meant from his own cop father.

Adam lifted one finger to keep Nate waiting where he was. “It’s the precinct. Don’t go out until I see what’s up.”

~

The call from dispatch regarded a Russian wolf named Vasili Galina. Vasili had the questionable fortune of being the mobster Ivan Galina’s younger brother. Vasili had worked as Ivan’s right hand man until two months ago, when the siblings had fallen out. The cause was money and a woman, both of which Ivan claimed Vasili stole from him. Aware that Ivan was called “the Terrible” for a reason, Vasili had gone on the run.

Sadly for him, Resurrection was an island, surrounded not by water but normalcy. A few centuries earlier, the fae had created the Pocket city from the stuff of their dimension. Inside, werewolves were common. Outside, supes were at the mercy of much more numerous, monster-fearing mundanes. The Galina line hadn’t set foot past Resurrection’s borders since emigrating from Siberia. As a result, Vasili was intimidated by the idea of fleeing there.

If Adam’s squad could catch the less ruthless brother before he grew desperate enough to try, they had a decent chance of getting him to rat on Ivan. Because Ivan knew this, they’d been in a race over who’d find Vasili first. This evening, he’d been spotted in the warehouse district, slipping into a tobacco shop owned by the disputed girlfriend’s cousins. Surveillance had been watching the location for weeks now without a sighting. If Ivan’s men were less patient than the RPD’s, this could be a real opening.

Excited, but doing their best to keep a lid on it, Tony, Adam, and Nate hurried one floor down to Rick’s apartment to strap on their vests and gear.

Rick’s place was a messier version of Adam’s. His front hall closet was fitted out as an arms cabinet. Barring a yen for a rocket launcher, whatever they wanted in the way of short-notice weapons he kept locked up there. Nate had a similar arrangement in his loft, though of course his locker was neater.

None of them needed an explanation as to why it was better to do this here than in front of family. Maria’s husband Johnny they left behind with the lasagna. Johnny worked Special Tactics—operations you needed troops for, not just a gun or two. He wouldn’t join a call like this unless matters turned extreme.

“We’ll take Rick’s car,” Adam said, double-checking the clip for his gun before sliding it into his under arm holster. They were packing electrum bullets, the silver-gold alloy being effective against most supes. “His Buick has four doors and won’t stand out like the response van. I don’t want to spook Vasili or clue Ivan that we found him. Nate, you’ll be at the wheel.”

“Shit,” Rick said even as he dug out the keys. He might not like giving up control of his car, but everybody knew Nate was the best driver.

“Should we call Carmine?” Tony asked. Carmine was the final member of their five-man squad, an older wolf with a wife and family.

“No time,” Adam said. “He’ll have to read about it in the reports.”

Adam flashed his canines in a grin anyone would have called wolfish. Alpha energy boiled off him, his normally green eyes taking on a flame blue glow. As often as wolves went into law enforcement, that’s how much they hated members of their own species choosing a criminal route. Nate’s heart thumped faster despite his preference for keeping cool. His alpha’s relish for this chase was infectious.

Because they might come up against anything, Adam shoved two depowering charms in his back pocket. Nate tucked the taser Tony handed him into his waistband.

“We ready, boss?” he asked, adrenaline tightening his fist around Rick’s car keys.

“We’re ready,” Adam assured him.

~

Resurrection’s warehouse district stretched along the banks of the North River. Once known for shipping and manufacture, today it combined actual warehouses with condo conversions. Aspirations to trendiness aside, the area’s yuppie colonizers hadn’t yet conquered its seediness. The address dispatch had given Adam was in the district’s less savory reaches.

Nate spotted the sign for Quince Street painted on the brick of an old sardine plant, now a by-the-night boarding house for demons. If demons could behave themselves, the fae allowed them in Resurrection. They seemed unlikely to improve the locale’s cachet. Wrinkling his nose, Nate turned Rick’s dull gray Buick into the narrow thoroughfare. Quince ran uphill, its steepness creating the impression that the worn-down buildings were about to roll down on them. Nate had an urge to pull a U-turn right out of there.

“Do you feel that?” he murmured to Adam, who sat up front next to him.

His alpha nodded, hands braced on the dash—perhaps to resist an impulse to grab the wheel. “Someone has a go-away spell fired up nearby. Maybe not on this street but close.”

The realization tensed all of them. Nate ordered his foot to stay on the pedal, sticking to a cautious but not unnatural rate of travel. Two workmen in spattered overalls passed on foot to their left, on the opposite pavement from where the repulsion spell was strongest. The pair walked briskly, like they couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

“There’s the sign for the tobacco shop,” Tony said softly. The shop was also on their left, the exotic hookahs in the window suggesting it sold more than legal smokes.

“Repulsion spells are pricey,” Rick put in, leaning toward the front seat as his brother had. “If Vasili didn’t buy the enchantment, maybe he’s been using its shadow to hide in.”

This would require self-control but wasn’t impossible, considering how intensely Vasili must want to steer clear of his brother.

“The shop door’s opening.” Nate turned the car to the side as if about to park. Not wanting to get too close, he slowed to an inching crawl.

The timing couldn’t have been better. As they watched the glass of the door shimmer with movement, the gawky form of Ivan the Terrible’s little brother emerged from the small smoke shop. He wore old clothes and a cap pulled low on his forehead. As disguises went, it didn’t do much good. His was a face and figure they’d memorized.

“Gentle now,” Adam cautioned, easing his door open.

Tony and Rick left the car just as silently.

It was Rick who caught Vasili’s nervous eye. The strapping wolf was on the nearer side of the car and just too damn big to miss.

Vasili stiffened and appeared to curse as he noted their black bulletproof police vests. Warned, he took off at a dead run. His long legs were made for it. Nate wasn’t certain he could have caught up with him.

They were pack then, even more than they were cops. Adam didn’t have to bark instructions. They’d pursued prey together too many times before. Coordinating by instinct, Adam and Tony pelted up the street after Vasili, while Rick pulled himself monkey-style up the nearest warehouse’s fire escape. From the vantage of the roof, he’d watch where their target went, then relay it to the others through their linked earpieces.

Alone in the car, Nate wanted to circle the block to his left but decided this was what Vasili was counting on. If he’d been hiding here a while, he’d have numbed himself to the repulsion spell. What Nate ought to do was drive as close to its source as the car would get.

Gritting his teeth, he did exactly that.

In spite of his good intentions, he was only able to do it at five creeping miles per hour. The closer he got to the skin-crawly thickness, the more his foot tried to ease up on the pedal. Swearing under his breath, he slung the Buick onto the sidewalk in front of a boarded up blanket factory. Sweating like he’d been buried in blankets, he ducked under the plywood that had been partially torn off the front door.

To his dismay, he heard footsteps running inside, presumably searching for Vasili. Tony and Adam must have reached the factory before him, which he—as the one person with a vehicle—was never going to hear the end of. His competitive streak wouldn’t let him retreat, though his legs were shaking almost too much to walk. Going deeper into the dimness, he found a set of trash-strewn stairs and went up.

People had squatted here but not recently. The smells his wolf nose picked up were old. He forced himself to the second floor and pushed through a swinging door. The go-away spell was even stronger, like nightmares congealing the molecules of the air. He was in a long corridor, shut metal doors with glass porthole windows on either side of him. The floor was concrete, not polished like his loft but rough and broken up. There was nothing here. No sounds. No movement. He could leave if he wanted to.

Nate didn’t like that he wanted to very much.

“Fuck this shit,” he whispered.

He smelled something then, a whiff that was out of place. It reminded him of oil of cedar. Under that, he was certain he smelled blood.

The blood woke his wolf and, apparently, his wolf had some immunity to this particular magical compulsion. His spine straightened and his knees steadied. He strode to the third door down, from which the scent had come.

With his wolf’s lack of consideration for consequences, he snapped the lock and went in.

For three long blinks, he had no idea what he was looking at.

The room he stood in didn’t belong in a factory, at least not one that had woven blankets a hundred years ago. The space wasn’t big, maybe twelve by twelve and about ten feet high, its walls sheathed in steel. Someone must have erected this metal box inside the factory’s original loom bay. Its walls and ceiling were featureless, and it didn’t contain furniture. A round drain, maybe a foot in diameter, marked the low spot on the floor. It was from this that the scent of blood and cedar came.

None of this should have frightened him. He was within the confines of the aversion spell, and it no longer affected him. He walked to the drain and knelt. The cover was steel, with generous holes piercing it. Nate used a thumb and two fingers to lift the thing away.

The pipe underneath was clean except for a small pale shape he couldn’t quite make out. The object was lodged about three feet down where the pipe elbowed. Something more than squeamishness inspired him to dig out the latex gloves he kept in his bulletproof vest’s pocket. His heart thudding in his throat, Nate stretched his arm inside.

He pulled it back holding a child’s shoe.

It was a nice shoe: sturdy white leather in the high-necked lace-up style parents bought to steady wobbly ankles while their kids learned how to walk—the sort they preserved in bronze as keepsakes. Fluids had washed the leather; Nate saw that from the stains, but at the moment it was bone dry.

He nearly dropped it when Rick called his name from the hall.

“We got the bad guy, Nate,” he said in a teasing way. “It’s safe to come out now.”

Nate stood, shoe cupped within his cradling palm. Werewolves weren’t psychic, as a rule. Changing shape was the main magic they performed. All the same, he felt very strange, like his nerves were vibrating in ways they weren’t meant to.

“In here,” he called hoarsely.

Rick appeared in the steel room’s door. His mouth fished open at what lay behind it.

Nate had never been so happy to see his beta’s good-natured face. Rick was the epitome of normal, a slap-your-back high school jock who only occasionally wore wolf’s clothing. Nate extended the hand with the baby shoe. “We need to get this to the lab. And probably ask the precinct Seer to take a scan.”

“Shit,” Rick said, a sentiment Nate understood perfectly.

~

The city’s criminal forensics lab was backed up. Every pair of hands they had was sorting evidence from a secret burial chamber that had been discovered under a high rise on the East Side. Normally, residents wouldn’t have minded living atop a tomb. Resurrectioners had strong nerves, and the units were rent-controlled. Problem was, the nearly departed weren’t RIPing. Figuring out why they’d decided to cause a ruckus had become a nightmare.

To make matters worse, the precinct psychic was on vacation.

“Vacation?” Nate burst out. It was late. He sat at Adam’s kitchen table with his boss and Ari. Earlier, Adam had promised to work on getting their case moved up in priority, and Nate had felt compelled to check on his progress. “Is that even allowed? Shouldn’t she be working the East Side thing with the rest of them?”

Seeing how upset he was, Adam reached across the beat-up table to wrap his palm over Nate’s forearm. “She was working it. There are hundreds of restless spirits at the site. Evidently, talking to them is exhausting the mediums.”

Usually, the touch of any pack member soothed. To his wolf, the contact was instinctively comforting. It meant he wasn’t alone, and that someone had his back. Tonight, he couldn’t settle, not even when Ari also laid her hand behind his tense neck. Because he liked her, Nate struggled not to jerk away. She meant well. He simply wasn’t in the mood to be calmed.

Maybe she sensed this. She let her hand fall away from him. “Why does an empty room have you tied in knots? You’re usually laid-back, no matter what.”

Nate wondered if Adam had told her about the baby shoe. Maybe not, considering her recent motherhood. “Something bad happened in that room,” he said. “And that go-away spell was recently refreshed. Someone was planning on using it again.”

“Vasili claimed he didn’t know anything about it,” Adam reminded him.

“Well, he would, wouldn’t he? He’s got enough on his plate without adding accessory to whatever the hell this is.”

“All right,” Adam said, though his temper seemed to be thinning. To his credit, Adam always tried to be an even-tempered boss. “I’ll let Rick and Tony have at him tomorrow. Those two are good at interrogation, and they understand brother ties. If Vasili’s hiding something, they’ll crack it out of him.”

“Are you hungry?” Ari pushed back her chair. “I could heat up some lasagna.”

Nate looked at her, muss-haired and half swallowed by an old RPD T-shirt of Adam’s. Her worried eyes made her look like an innocent, though Nate knew she wasn’t that. He’d watched those same baby blues face down demons without flinching. At the moment, she looked sleepy. He’d woken her when he knocked on Adam’s door, though thankfully not Kelsey.

“Sorry,” he said, meaning it. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. I’ll go home now and catch a few hours sleep before tomorrow.”

He rose and Adam rose with him, walking side by side with him to the door.

“We won’t let this drop,” Adam assured him. “We’ll find out who was using that room and why.”

Nate nodded, not quite meeting his alpha’s eye. His throat was tight, his normally cast-iron stomach uneasy. Though he couldn’t explain the feeling, he knew time was of the essence in solving this mystery.

Chapter Two

A man like Nate had passions. Three of his biggest were French press coffee, good red wine, and Outsider-style cherry pie. Something about those tart ruby fruits glistening in sweet sauce had the power to make his troubles seem like small things.

At present, his loft had coffee, a well-stocked wine closet, but not one bite of pie. Tony must have snuck in at some point and raided his supply.

That didn’t seem fair to Nate. Tony’s parents were the best cooks in the pack, and they spoiled their youngest child horribly—more so since he’d come out and made them worry for his future. His fridge wouldn’t run out of anything.

What Nate had told Adam notwithstanding, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. He grabbed the keys to his personal vehicle: a forest green Goblinati, fifty years old—the golden age of goblin automotive design. The sports car had two doors, was low slung, and could go six hundred miles on a single charge. Nate’s mileage was more like four, but that was because he reveled in exceeding the speed limit. To his mind, cruising flat out down an empty road was a pleasure no car lover should miss out on.

He’d have his chance to indulge tonight. His favorite place to buy provisions was way the hell out in the cornstalks. The Poughkip Holy Foods was Resurrection’s only all-organic, all-blessed grocer. The twenty-four-hour superstore was a notorious pick-up joint—which didn’t make him think less of it. He’d enjoyed many a hot encounter following his forays there. His culinary skills weren’t on the level of the Lupones, but women tended to like when he cooked for them. Getting them into bed on the first date and not the third seemed preferable to him.

All too often, he’d lost interest by then. Cutting straight to the chase was more efficient.

He and the car flew along Route 50, the hot August wind blowing back his hair. The rush of that almost blotted out the image of the sad little shoe he’d found.

~

Evina Mohajit was no stranger to compromise. As the fire department’s youngest-ever station chief, not to mention a single mother of two healthy rambunctious cubs, she’d learned balancing work and home meant you couldn’t do either perfectly.

Just in case she’d forgotten, her six-year-old daughter Abby issued a reminder the instant Evina shoved their sticky townhouse door open. Abby stood at the top of the inside stairs, her puppy-decorated cotton pajamas an acknowledgement of the fact that it was past her bedtime.

“Mo-omm,” she wailed from her spying post. “You forgot Rafi’s cakes for school!”

Evina glanced at the large canvas tote she’d slung over her left shoulder—in case two dozen chocolate and vanilla cupcakes wanted magically to appear. They didn’t, and her daughter huffed like she was forty. “Mom, Rafi’s going to be the only one without them again.”

Evina knew why she’d forgotten. There’d been a three-alarm blaze at an apartment building, and her crew had been called to it. Though a weretiger like herself, her senior man had been injured in a flashover, a dangerous increase in heat that ignited the smoke blanketing the ceiling above his head. Evina had been watching the fire in her astral projected form. She’d warned him the flare was developing, but he’d pressed forward anyway. He’d heard two kids were trapped in a unit, and he’d wanted to get them out. Christophe had succeeded, but at the cost of wrenching off his fire retardant coat and wrapping them in it. He was in the hospital now, being treated for serious burns. According to his physician, the pain and shock he was in prevented him from changing.

None of which was appropriate to explain to a six-year-old.

“Maybe I could bake Rafi’s cupcakes myself,” she said, trying to sound hopeful.

“Mom,” Abby scolded, her beautiful little moon face once again looking too mature for her years. “You know that’s not a good idea.”

Evina did know, and exhaled wearily. Her luck was no better than fifty-fifty when it came to following recipes. She pushed the front door with her hip to get it closed again. She lived in a tiger enclave on the edge of the downtown core. They had more land here than in the city, but of course feline neighbors had sharp ears. She’d just as soon hers didn’t hear what a screw-up she was currently being. “Where’s Gran?” she asked her daughter.

“In the den, watching Downton Abbey on the DVR.”

Evina’s mother was obsessed with the imported Outsider show, probably due to idolizing Maggie Smith’s sharp-clawed dowager countess. Suspecting her own hide was about to be flayed for asking her mother to stay with the kids longer, Evina trudged up the stairs. Because Abby was still young enough to like it, she hugged and nuzzled her daughter.

“Off to bed with you,” she ordered, swatting her small bottom. Thankfully, Abby giggled and ran.

The den was downstairs, along with their kitchen and living room, so Evina retraced her tracks. Weretigers didn’t need the full moon to change. She found her son curled up on the sofa in his cub form, his furry head in her mother’s lap, his striped tail slowly waving with pleasure. Though he was Abby’s twin, Rafiq was much shyer. Turning tiger was his security blanket, something the rules at the mixed-race school he attended forbid him from doing there. Because he didn’t focus as well as Abby, he was in a different class, a separation Evina knew made him self-conscious. Sensitive to this, her mother was gently stroking his ruff and ears, far more tender with her grandchildren than Evina remembered her being when she was a girl. Despite the resentment she might have felt, Evina treasured her for it.

The tigress in her agreed. Nothing could be more important than a mother you could count on to love your kids.

Her mother flicked off the TV and turned as Evina reached the den’s doorway. Rita Mohajit was eighty—just entering her prime, as she liked to say. Evina couldn’t deny she remained gorgeous, her figure trim, her striking face scarcely more lined than it had been in her twenties. Thick auburn hair formed a cloud of curls around her shoulders. Limber as ever, she’d tucked her feet under her. When she saw her daughter, her mouth pinched in sympathy. “Hard shift?”

Not expecting the kindness, Evina’s throat tightened. She nodded. “I forgot to buy Rafi’s cupcakes for school. Can you watch them a little longer while I run to the store?”

“You’ll have to drive to the Holy Foods. Everything else is closed at this hour.”

“I’ll be fast,” Evina promised.

“Be careful,” her mother corrected. “And maybe pick up some wine for yourself. You’ve been working too hard.”

Evina crossed to the sofa and kissed both her mom and son. Rafi greeted her with a baby’s mewl, half asleep and somehow still smelling of little boy. She loved him so much she wished there were two of her, the only way she saw to guarantee she wouldn’t let him down again. Her little boy felt everything so deeply, more than anyone in the family.

“It’s okay, baby,” Rita crooned, her hand falling to pet her daughter. “Rafi isn’t as fragile as you think.”

If Evina’s eyes grew teary at hearing that, it was easy to hide in her son’s soft fur.

~

As long as Evina had driven all this way, she decided to grab a cart and shop. She was leaving the butcher’s counter with her neatly wrapped packages of red meat when she recognized the man she thought of as the Holy Foods Romeo.

He was a character: sex on a shish kabob, as her sometimes bawdy mom liked to say. She’d watched him for weeks before he noticed her, seducing the single ladies and charming the cashiers. He knew how to tell one herb from another and would happily recommend a wine to complement whatever a pretty female had in her cart. He sauntered the aisles like the Emperor of Seduction, the bounce of confidence in his step better than any dance. Evina had observed he was good-natured when turned down, dazzling when accepted, and downright knee-weakening when he was on the prowl. Hearts fluttered at his approach . . . even hearts that knew better.

The first time he spoke to her she was flattered in spite of herself. He was smart and amusing, as quick with his tongue as he was to hop in bed. Maybe she was kidding herself, but he seemed to like that she could match wits with him. When he realized she was a tigress, his chagrin had struck her as genuine. He still talked to her after that, but they both knew he was just flirting for flirting’s sake.

Historically speaking, cats and dogs didn’t mix that way.

Though tigers and wolves couldn’t have children, them hooking up wasn’t a biological impossibility—more a cultural one. Tigers and wolves were rivals, no less so because both gravitated toward protecting citizens. If the RPD was a wolf domain, the RFD belonged to tigers. Wolves enforced the law. Tigers rescued people from disasters. Evina doubted any cop, werewolf or otherwise, liked the fact that firemen were more popular.

The two departments’ annual soccer match was legendary for fur flying.

A tiger dating a wolf was almost unheard of. This, of course, didn’t prevent Evina from occasionally daydreaming about a fling.

Oddly, her Romeo didn’t appear in the mood for a fling tonight. His snazzy boots were rooted to the floor in the bakery section, and he was staring at a stacked display of boxes like they held the answer to life’s meaning. His body was—as ever—truly admirable, turning snug black jeans and a dark silk shirt into a fashion ad. His brow was furrowed and his teeth gnawed his lower lip, something she couldn’t recall seeing him do before. The sleek black ponytail that usually contained his hair was disheveled.

The mother in her couldn’t help wondering what was wrong.

Oh what the hell, she thought, parking her cart by the tuna. She walked over to him, stopping arm to arm at his side so she could stare with him. Though he didn’t look at her, she knew he knew who it was.

“I came for the cherry pie,” he said casually, “but now that I’m here, suddenly I’m not excited.”

Amused, Evina shot him a sidelong glance. “I could make a joke about that.”

“Could you?” His lips were curving at the corners.

“Maybe you need some cherry pie Viagra.”

He turned and smiled down at her. At 5’6” Evina was a good six inches shorter than he was. The wolf’s smile was ordinary, no naughty sex-god-on-the-make in it. Evina thought the expression looked nice on him. Her grocery store Romeo had an interesting mouth, neither full nor thin but quirkily eye-catching. The peaks of his upper lip were so sharp she found it hard not to flush when she stared at them. His lower lip twisted to one side, a lack of symmetry that made him look as if he’d been born not taking anything seriously.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, as if working out the mystery then and there, “I didn’t come here for pie. Maybe I came here to talk to you.”

“Watch out, Nate,” she said, because they’d traded names and basic facts. “That sounded like it wasn’t a line.”

“How could a woman as rare and fine as you inspire anything but sincerity?”

Evina knew this was nonsense but enjoyed it all the same. In the process of trading quips, they’d turned to face each other. Other shoppers rolled their carts past them unseeing. Because it was the middle of the night, and even responsible single mothers sometimes felt reckless, she let herself stare into his eyes. They were dark and a little sad, which seemed extra dangerous to her. His lean cheekbones were dramatic, his clean-shaven jaw a symphony of straight lines. His high-bridged blade of a nose was slightly too long for beauty, but it added character.

Without that slight imperfection, he might have intimidated a forty-something tigress who’d had two kids.

“What are you here for?” he murmured.

Her brain took at least two seconds to supply the answer. “Oh,” she said. “Cupcakes. Once a month, my son’s class at school celebrates whichever kids have a birthday. They take turns bringing in the sweets, and Rafiq was up this time.” She wrinkled her nose. “My daughter had to remind me that I forgot.”

“Rough day at work?” he asked, like her mother had.

“Yes,” she answered as simply as she could.

He touched her hand—or barely, his index finger brushing the side of it. Like all weres, his skin was warm. Tiny nerves trilled along her arm.

“Me too,” he said huskily.

She wanted to kiss him, to cup his face and lay her lips over his. She wondered if he’d taste like his voice sounded, like hot black coffee or nice merlot.

“E-vi-na,” he said, lingering on the syllables.

Neither of them moved, just stood there staring into each other’s eyes. Nate finally broke the moment with a wag of his head. Don’t go there, she could almost hear him thinking.

“Can I ask you something?” he said in a less seductive tone.

“Sure.” She tried to sound more everyday herself.

“Most weretigers are psychic, right?”

“Some of us have gifts that fall underneath that term.”

“But you run your own station. You’re the alpha of your work pride. I read you won a competition when you were fifteen for how good your astral projections were.”

Evina’s brows shot up toward her hairline. “You Oogled me,” she said, referring to a popular Elfnet search engine.

“I was curious.” The faint darkening of Nate’s cheeks suggested he was embarrassed at being caught. He seemed not to like this, because his interesting mouth pressed flat. “My question is, if you were in your out-of-body form, could you read a room’s vibrations?”

“Possibly. It would depend on how strongly they were imprinted.” She squinted at him. His expression was so worried he hardly seemed like the same person. “Don’t the police have people on staff for that?”

“Usually, but the spirit infestation at the East End high rise has them tied up. I stumbled across a place today . . . I think it might have been a crime scene, and I—” He swallowed. “I think it might be important to know for sure quickly.”

She could see he was struggling not to plead with his eyes. To her, this only increased his persuasiveness. “I can’t promise I’d get an impression. Akashic reading isn’t my specialty.”

“But you’d try. I mean—” He seemed to recall himself. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask you to look. What happened there might be bad.”

“I’ve seen bad,” she reminded softly, thinking of Christophe lying in his hospital bed, recovering from his burns so slowly he almost could have been human. “I pull people out of fires.”

Nate’s hands clasped her upper arms, his fingers squeezing them lightly. He made her sorry she’d worn a sweater for the store’s AC. “I’ll stay with you the whole time. You won’t have to go inside physically.”

She nearly smiled. Like a lot of men, he confused her relatively small human form with fragility. “Let me call my mother. Make sure she can stay with the kids. Just remember, I have to get home at some point. I won’t be able to try for long.”

“I won’t ask you to,” he promised. He squeezed her arms again. “Thank you, Evina. This means a lot to me.”

She could see it did—and then she had to wonder if a werewolf’s gratitude ought to please her so much.

~

The first time Nate laid eyes on Evina his nerves had sat up and woofed. She was female with a capital F. Exotic and curvy, everything about her said soft. He’d known a lot of women, but her face mesmerized: that creamy skin, those flying brows, the siren’s mouth that—so far as he could tell—was naturally the color of a good cabernet. Her walk made him bite his lip, especially the rear view. Her long curly hair was as black as a raven’s wing, the sort that made men fantasize about it brushing them. He’d only seen her wear it braided, and it hung to her rounded butt. Best of all (though it was a strange best for him) her eyes were huge and golden, surrounded by thick dark lashes like a doe out a cartoon.

Those eyes should have warned him she was a tigress; he’d sensed right off she was a were from her energy. When the truth had hit him, it was too late. He’d already caught a bad hankering for her.

He hadn’t sealed the deal with a single female since his shopping cart first bumped hers.

This made what he was doing, waiting for her out in the parking lot, monumentally stupid. No matter what happened when she saw that room, Nate would end up worse off. If she weren’t freaked out, he’d respect her more. If she were, she’d probably never want to see him again. The sudden sick dropping of his stomach warned him how much he’d miss that.

Even if it led to nothing, he looked forward to bantering with her.

Crap, he thought as she came back from making her cell phone call.

“Everything’s fine,” she said with the naturally sexy smile that never failed to tighten his trousers. “My mother has decided to be a saint tonight.”

“Good.” Gritting his teeth, he gently clasped her elbow to escort her through the rows of cars. She’d removed her light cotton sweater. Underneath, she wore a sleeveless fitted blouse the color of tangerines. She’d paired it with plain white capris. Bare now, the skin of her arm was satin, its muscles warm beneath his fingers. They’d put her groceries in the trunk of her car, which was spelled to keep things cool. For now, they were leaving her vehicle here. All she carried was the giant tote no mother seemed able to leave home without.

She clutched it and laughed when she caught sight of his transport.

“Really?” she chuckled, little snorts coming from her nose. “You drive a vintage Goblinati? Nate, you know that’s a total skirt-chaser’s car.”

“I know it’s fast,” he said, secretly amused by her hilarity. “And I think I ought to get points for not buying it in red.”

He held the passenger door for her, noting how neatly she swung her trim calves inside. Because noticing made this feel too much like a date, he worked a frown onto his face and circled to the driver’s side.

By the time he slid behind the wheel, she’d buckled up and turned her body toward his. Her legs were pulled up beneath her, her cheek at rest on the soft leather. The pose was catlike, her gorgeous curves relaxed and molded into the car’s contours. Nate thought about how flexible she must be, how small compared to him. His cock hardened without warning, stretching his black jockstrap. Just looking at her and having her look back was more powerful than most kisses.

Unsettled by that knowledge, he inserted the key and spoke. “Where we’re going isn’t far, at least not the way I drive.”

She smiled at him sleepily, a tired woman at the end of her day. He realized she was comfortable with him. He liked that better than he could say.

“Feel free to catnap,” he teased drolly.

She smiled again and, to his surprise, took him up on the offer.

She slept until he stopped the car at the old blanket factory. Adam had made some inroads with his string pulling. Though the plywood still listed crookedly on the front entrance, a cat’s cradle of police tape warned people to keep out. Better still, the RPD had installed a discreet watch spell. If their mystery perpetrator came back this way, his image would be recorded.

Nate looked around but didn’t sense anyone nearby. Apart from a distant clanking down by the river, the neighborhood appeared abandoned.

“This is the place?” Evina asked, shutting her door quietly. Stiff from her nap, she laced her fingers above her head and stretched. Despite the circumstances, Nate couldn’t tear his gaze away. The way her breasts lifted with her movements was gasp-worthy.

She caught him staring and laughed softly. “You are excellent for my ego, Detective Rivera.”

Her use of his title, pleasurable though it was, reminded him of their mission. “We should go inside. I know it’s important for you to be undisturbed when you’re projecting.”

Though her eyes stayed warm, her smile slipped away. She nodded for him to go ahead of her. Once they’d both ducked beneath the tape, Nate led the way with the powerful police issue flashlight he kept stowed in his glove box. The dirty stairs didn’t look any better under its beam. Evina sucked in a breath when a rat the size of a rabbit scampered across their path.

She wasn’t afraid. Rats were prey to tigresses, even if they did make for disgusting meals—definitely not interchangeable with chicken.

“Wait here,” Nate said when they reached the swinging doors to the second floor corridor. “I want to check the way ahead.”

Evina gave him an eye roll, reminding him she faced danger everyday.

“I’m the one with the gun,” he said, pointing to his ankle.

That comment widened her eyes. He supposed it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d go armed to the grocery store. Satisfied she’d stay, he checked the length of the hall. As he’d expected, no one was there but them.

He returned to her, belatedly sorry he’d left her by herself in a pitch-black stairwell. His estimation of her nerves went up another notch when he saw how calm she was.

They continued together to the strange room he’d found. It too was webbed in crime scene tape. Nate reached through the plastic strips and pushed the door open. The repulsion spell had dissipated, but Evina felt something. A shudder big enough to see shook her slim shoulders. She set her jaw more determinedly.

“I need to sit down for this,” she said.

Abruptly regretting that he hadn’t grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the car, Nate used his boot to scuff a circle clear of clutter on the cracked concrete floor.

Evina grimaced and lowered herself to it, her face oriented to the doorway. “It’ll help if you stand behind me. Touching another person anchors me.”

Nate moved behind her so that his knees touched her back. Cross-legged, she wrapped her arms around his calves. He was anxious enough that the contact didn’t give him the sexual charge it otherwise would have.

Evina closed her eyes and started to breathe slowly.

He saw why she’d won a medal for this skill. In seconds, he felt her energy slip into a trance state. Light flickered through her aura, which was expanding rapidly. The air around them grew cooler as she drew on the ambient magic their half-fae city was famous for. The swiftness with which she threw herself into the act made him want to protect her. Nate dropped one hand to her head, which didn’t seem to disturb her.

His wolf let out a whine, audible only in his mind. It wasn’t a sound of submission, despite Evina being alpha when he was not. To him, his beast sounded as if it were concerned. If it was, it didn’t have much time to be. Light flared brilliantly in Evina’s heart center. Not wanting to be blinded. Nate narrowed his eyelids.

The light coalesced into the form of a tiger and padded out of her.

Nate’s breath—and probably his wolf’s as well—caught like cotton candy inside his chest. Evina’s tigress was the most beautiful feline he’d ever seen.

Though only a projection of astral energy, her were form appeared solid. Night black stripes marked the richest possible orange fur. She was much bigger as a tiger than a human—bigger than his wolf, if it came to that. Her back came to Nate’s waist, muscles rippling under that gorgeous pelt. When she glanced back at him, light flashed behind the pupils of her gold eyes. A growl rumbled from deep within her chest, her lips pulling back in a obvious threat. The hairs on Nate’s arms stood up, but the sound inspired a thrill more than it did an urge to flinch.

He got the impression her beast was testing him.

“Snarl all you want,” he said equably. “You’re here because I trust you.”

She huffed, the resonant sound like a train would make. Her lips relaxed back over her long canines. She swung her great head away as if dismissing him.

Solid-looking or not, she prowled straight through the crime scene tape.

~

Evina had practice concealing fear. As the boss of people who risked death on a regular basis, she needed to set an example. Level heads pulled firemen through tight spots. Losing focus because of dread never helped anyone.

She ignored how much her tiger didn’t want to enter that room.

Having Nate behind her helped, knowing he had the gumption not to back down at her tigress’s threat display. She allowed her awareness of her human body to slip away in favor of more fully inhabiting her projection.

The metal beneath her paw pads was cool and smooth, the sensation more elusive than it would have been if she were solid.

She sniffed, pulling back her lips and opening her mouth to taste the scents that were there. Beneath the tang of steel, she picked up blood and perfumed smoke—perhaps from a wood-based incense. The skin along her muscular shoulders crawled, just as it had when Nate first opened the door. She quartered the room, a big cat pacing a small cage. Three strides took her long body across it.

Her more primitive mind opened, along with the senses Nate called psychic. A cry teased her ear from someone who wasn’t there. The sound was cut short. Evina’s tail flicked at the distress this caused.

Barely aware she was doing it, she lay down in her cat form and closed her eyes.

Images flooded her, as sharp as if the events were happening in front of her. The vividness surprised her. She hadn’t known she’d get such a clear reading. Three men stood in the room, garbed in hospital green and masked like doctors. They were huddled around a table with raised steel edges that formed a tray. A child perhaps a year old lay in its center. The child was on its back, sleepy but awake, dressed in clean blue pants and a striped short-sleeved top with a cartoon fox on it. “I’m Tricky!” the shirt declared. The barely scuffed condition of the child’s leather shoes said it was only just walking.

The child seemed unalarmed by its strange surroundings. Its big brown eyes gazed around, its chubby legs and arms wriggling. The movements had caused its T-shirt to ruck up over its navel.

One of the doctors pulled the shirt down and patted the child’s belly. “He needs to die without violence, and with as little fear as possible.”

His voice was low and soothing, nothing to alarm the child. The other two doctors nodded behind their masks. The one who’d spoken brought out a small pillow, the kind stewardesses hand out on planes.

Evina’s astral tether gave a sharp tug, trying to snap her back into her physical body. The part of her that was a mother didn’t want to see what came next. The part of her that faced whatever her job required countermanded it ruthlessly.

“Hold his hands,” the first doctor said.

The other two complied, gently rubbing the dimpled fingers with their milky white latex gloves. The first doctor pressed the pillow over the child’s face.

The little boy laughed at first, thinking it was a game. When he finally began to struggle, realizing he couldn’t breathe, his back arched like a bow off the steel table. His short arms and legs flung out, his entire body straining to get air.

No, Evina thought, correcting her misimpression. The baby wasn’t straining to get air. He was straining to change forms. Young though he was, instinctively he was hoping to defend himself or escape.

This child was a shapeshifter.

The shock catapulted her into her human form, which was bent over and moaning. Nate had dropped to his knees, though she hadn’t been aware of him moving. His arms wrapped her from behind, not tightly but close enough that his wolf warmth sank into her. She needed it. She was shivering violently.

“I’m okay,” she said through clenched teeth. She didn’t sound okay, even to herself. “Jesus.” Taking three slow breaths, she pushed herself around to face him. His dark eyes were wide, his supportive hold on her arms cautious.

“Let me tell you what I saw right away,” she said. “I don’t want to forget details.”

~

Nate let her go through the story once while her memory was fresh, then took her out to the car. His digital memo pad was there, and he wanted an audio record. He kept his arm around her all the way down the stairs, her weight leaning on him more heavily than he suspected she realized. Once she was settled in the passenger seat, he dug out the micro-recorder and had her repeat what she’d seen.

She was steadier now, her telling more organized, though it didn’t change appreciably.

As she described what had happened in the room, Nate ignored how cold the back of his neck had gotten. No matter what he’d felt when he found the shoe, her story was sufficient to chill his blood. “You sure you didn’t see the doctors’ faces? Maybe their hair or eye color?”

She shook her head, her lips pursing in frustration. “I know I should have tried. I thought I was paying attention. The truth is, as soon as I saw the little boy, all my focus went to him.”

“That’s natural,” he soothed, rubbing her pants’ now-black knee. The floor of the blanket factory had been filthy. She must have transferred the dirt with her hands. A pang ran through him for getting that stain on her. “You noticed more than a lot of pros would have.”

“Two of them looked Caucasian,” she said. “The doctor who talked and the taller of the listening pair. The third was shorter and a couple shades browner than you are, but I couldn’t say precisely where his genes hailed from.”

“Did you get the impression they were shifters?”

“I’d be guessing if I said yes. Their bodies were human, not elfin or fae—at least not pureblood. I’d have noticed pointy ears or that sparkly skin unmixed faeries have.”

“That narrows it down some.”

“Not enough.” Evina shoved her hands through her hair, forgetting it was braided. She stopped when her fingers snagged. “What gets me is how matter of fact the head doctor was. He wasn’t—” Her face twisted. “He wasn’t getting off on what they did. He was businesslike. ‘He needs to die without violence,’ was what he said, and it didn’t seem like it was out of compassion.”

“A ritual maybe?” Nate suggested, though this seemed like a long shot.

“The way they were dressed?” Evina shook her head. “If a bunch of humans get into that black mass stuff, they tend to wear silly costumes.”

Nate rubbed his lower lip, looking out the Goblinati’s windshield into the night, trying to will useful thoughts to form. The nearest streetlight was broken, the next seeming far away. The clock on his dash clicked to 2:30. “You couldn’t be mistaken about their victim being a shapeshifter? One year old seems young to try to change, even as a fight or flight response.”

“Weretigers first change around the time they’re weaned. My son Rafiq learned to run on four feet long before he walked on two. Other shifter races turn early too. Foxes for one—not that I’m assuming the child was a werefox just because of his shirt.”

Nate brought his gaze back to hers, the dark car and the situation cocooning them. “That was a good detail. We can run your description of the boy’s clothes and age through the Missing Persons database. See if we get a hit.”

Evina shivered. Nate remembered the tailored leather jacket in the back seat. The weather didn’t call for it, but sometimes he needed to look sharp on short notice.

“It’s warm out,” she said when he shook it out for her.

“Put it on anyway,” he advised. “If you were one of your crew, you’d be ordering yourself to be checked out for shock.”

“Low blow.” Smiling wryly, she swung the coat around her shoulders.

Nate liked the look of his garment cloaking her. To smell his scent mingling with hers satisfied him on a deep level. Knowing this wasn’t wise, he clicked off the recorder and slid his key into the ignition.

“I’ll drive you back to your car,” he said, privately deciding he’d follow her home as well. “I’ll call you tomorrow, if that’s okay with you. My boss will probably want to talk to you in person.”

She nodded with her head turned away, lost in her own musings. She had a surprisingly cute profile, her nose turned up a bit at the end—like a kitten’s, he thought. Sensing she didn’t want to talk anymore, Nate let her sit in silence for the return trip to the grocery store.

~

Evina’s head was full of things she wished weren’t in it. She wanted to be home that instant, her arms wrapped around her kids. She wanted to drive to the hospital to hold Christophe’s poor bandaged hand. If she could have swaddled everyone she loved in industrial strength bubble wrap, she’d have done it then.

The Holy Foods parking lot was emptier than when they’d left. Nate was able to pull up beside her car.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said.

He laughed on a sardonic burst of air. The response made her look at him. The store lights angled through the windshield onto his face. He was incredibly handsome, his looks illogically improved by the line of worry between his brows.

“Evina,” he said, “you shouldn’t be thanking me.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have done it, but she laid her palm on his hollowed cheek. The touch made him freeze, then thrummed like etheric fire through his energy. She couldn’t recall a man’s aura reacting to her like this. His eyes went darker and his breathing quickened, the sound turning her soft and molten between the legs.

The hint of stubble beneath her hand didn’t discourage the steamy surge. Smooth-talker though he was, Nate Rivera was all man.

“Evina,” he repeated in a much different tone.

He leaned to her across the seats, his fingers brushing an escaped curl back behind her ear. She shivered—and not from cold. She knew her eyes had widened, and that her breasts rose and fell too quickly to pretend she wasn’t aroused. She couldn’t have said why he had this effect on her. She might be out of practice, but she was no shy miss when it came to dancing this tango.

Nate slid his hand around to cradle the back of her head. “You have no idea how much I want to do this.”

He pressed his lips over hers. Their surface was warm and soft, molding to hers so gently it seemed silly to object. She didn’t want to object. She nuzzled closer to him and moaned, her hands finding natural spots to rest on his chest. He was hard there, as if he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

He turned his head just so and slipped his tongue inside.

He tasted good, better than anything she could have invented in her most torrid fantasy. His tongue stroked hers, his cheeks pulling inward to suck sleekly. When she let her mouth answer the way she wanted, he moaned for her. His head turned again, opening her more. He kissed her harder and more aggressively. Evina’s nails dug into his shirt like claws. He gasped and started breathing like he’d been running flat out in wolf form.

That idea was so perversely exciting she had to push him away.

“Sorry,” he said, retreating immediately. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wasn’t telling you not to,” she pointed out, rather breathless herself.

Nate eased back into his seat. “You were overwrought. I—” He smoothed his hair around his head, his ponytail ragged now. “I never should have dragged you into this.”

If there was one thing Evina hated, it was being treated like she was weaker because she was female.

“You didn’t drag me into anything,” she bit out. “Even if I weren’t a mother, I’m alpha just like you. It’s my nature to want to protect children.”

He stared at her in shock. Her sense of insult climbing, she unlatched her door and got out. “Call me at work today. My shift starts at eleven. We’ll arrange a time for me to meet your boss. Since you Oogled me, I assume you know what station I work for.”

He shut his mouth. “I do,” he said. “I’ll call you after eleven.”

She slammed the door, satisfied he’d gotten the message that her spine had starch. Her anger steadied her, allowing her to start her crotchety old converted Camry on the first try. As empty as the lot was, she couldn’t fail to notice his Goblinati trailing out of it behind her.

When he still rode her bumper after two lights, she knew he intended to make sure she got home safely.

“Idiot,” she muttered to her rear view mirror. Even as she did, a strange warm ache blossomed in her chest.

She couldn’t remember the last time a man had tried to look out for her.

Chapter Three

NATE drove to work by himself in his Goblinati. Most days the squad rode together in the response van, but this morning they weren’t enough in synch. Nate had fallen into bed and slept after he got home, though he couldn’t remember it. To him, it felt like he’d opened his eyes a minute after he shut them.

This might have been for the best, because who knew what he’d dreamed about? The square steel room and the creepy doctors? Evina’s delicious kiss? The fact that she was under the impression he was alpha?

Nate had told her he had a boss. He’d assumed she understood. How awkward would it be to explain he wasn’t in charge of anyone?

Conscious that he was running late, even by the squad’s loose standards, he made a coffee stop on the way.

When you weren’t the alpha, a caffeine offering never hurt.

The detective squad room was located in the bowels of the precinct house. Nate left a mocha grande on the grateful watch sergeant’s desk, then trotted down the stairs with the rest of his purchases. More than the usual bodies were in the half beat-up, half high-tech room. The extras were uniforms, being organized by Rick for the continuing pursuit of Ivan Galina.

“I’ll take that off your hands,” Tony volunteered, neatly grabbing his cardboard tray of Star’s Brew and scones. When it came to food, he and his brother Rick were known for their hollow legs.

“Where’s Adam?” Nate asked, bemused by the hive of activity.

“Office,” Tony said around the scone he’d already dug out and stuck in his mouth. He chewed and smiled brilliantly. “He’s requesting a search warrant. Vasili gave up the location where he and Ivan dumped their last accountant.”

“You and Rick got a burial site out of him?”

“We squeezed him good,” Tony crowed.

Despite his surprise—and maybe a tinge of envy—Nate gave the side of Tony’s shoulder a congratulatory punch. “I need to talk to Adam. I’ll catch up with you on this later.”

Their lieutenant rarely used his small office, not wanting to establish a separation between him and his men. Battered file cabinets took up most of the space. Room remained for a desk and Adam’s landline phone, which he was talking on. Despite the hum of noise outside, Adam hadn’t shut the door. He set the receiver back in its cradle as Nate came in.

“You got a minute, Lieu?” he asked.

“Just.” Adam leaned back in his chair and stretched. “This Galina thing is popping.”

Nate shut the door behind him, then set his digital memo pad on the desk. Adam wasn’t one to waste breath on pointless questions. His brows went up, but he tipped his chair back to level and pressed the play button.

Nate had listened to Evina’s account of her astral survey one last time on the drive over. Now he pulled an uncomfortable guest chair closer and watched Adam’s reaction. It wasn’t what he was hoping for. Though his superior listened attentively, he didn’t seem bowled over.

“You took a civilian to a crime scene?” Adam asked when the recording finished.

“Evina isn’t any civilian. She’s the station fire chief for Company Number 5.”

“Evina,” Adam repeated.

Nate felt heat rise into his cheeks. “She’s an acquaintance. We met at the grocery store.”

“And presumably she’s as young and pretty as she sounds on this tape.”

“It wasn’t like that. We aren’t dating. She’s a tigress.” Nate could see from his boss’s amused expression that he was making this worse. “The department psychics were tied up, and I thought this was too important to sit on. You have to admit her debriefing is impressive. The pros we use aren’t always this detailed.”

“Or this imaginative.” Adam’s elbows were on his desk, his broad hands folded together before his mouth. “There’s a reason cats aren’t suited to police work. They chase shadows when nothing’s there.”

“And dogs chase cars,” Nate spat back angrily.

“Fortunately for us cops, chasing cars is a useful skill.”

“You can’t be suggesting we ignore this.”

“We can’t be sure what this woman saw.”

“She saw something awful! She’s a mother. You should have seen how shaken up she was. Plus, I didn’t tell her about the shoe I found. How could she have known this involved a child if she was ‘chasing shadows’ like you say?”

Nate had jumped to his feet in front of Adam’s desk. He was a hair’s breadth from encroaching into his boss’s space.

“Look,” Adam began in a conciliatory tone. Nate was so infuriated he wanted to sock him. Sensing this, Adam patted the air. “Put the description she gave you into Missing Persons. If we get a hit, we’ll proceed from there.”

Nate had already done this from his home unit, and was waiting on the results. That didn’t seem diplomatic to admit right then. “I want to pursue this,” he said instead.

Adam let out a sighing breath.

“Give me Carmine,” Nate insisted, knowing the older man was the only detective Adam might be willing to pull off the Galina case. Carmine was a good solid cop, but not what you’d call brilliant. Nate didn’t care about that. Carmine’s belly laugh and easy manner had a way of disarming witnesses. “Carmine can coordinate a door-to-door around the blanket factory. See if any vagrants or shopkeepers saw our trio of doctors. It wouldn’t hurt to canvas the area anyway—in case the dumpsite doesn’t pan out the way you want. Vasili was holed up there for a while.”

“Fine,” Adam said. “You can have Carmine and two uniforms. Make sure you don’t waste them. I might need to pull them back again.”

“Thank you,” Nate said, possibly conveying more exasperation than gratitude. He didn’t ask if Adam wanted to speak to Evina personally. He already knew the answer to that.

~

The fact that Nate’s boss thought Evina couldn’t be trusted didn’t seem like news he ought to share by phone. Because it was past eleven, when she’d mentioned her shift started, he made the ten-minute drive out to Company Number 5.

He parked across the street half a block from their garage bay. This was where their lime-green tiger-striped fire trucks would pull out. Evina’s station owned two apparatuses. The first was a pumper. As Nate understood it, pumpers increased the pressure of hydrant water, to ensure it would blast from hoses onto a blaze. The second truck was a lengthy ladder and platform deal, designed for attacking fires or entering buildings from high floors.

The pup in Nate was excited to be close to these life-size toys. The man in him preferred the prospect of sniffing around Evina. From the moment he’d seen her behind her cart at the Holy Foods, his sexual antenna had been hyper-tuned to her. His pulse quickened as he left his car, his outlook brightening in spite of the awkwardness of his errand.

A second later, he realized seeing her wasn’t going to be simple.

A tiger were the size of a refrigerator was working in the bay. He was folding a soft-sided hose so that it accordioned neatly into a compartment on the truck. The taut set of his giant shoulders told Nate the tiger knew a stranger was approaching.

“You can’t park there,” the firefighter said without bothering to turn his head.

The implication that Nate posed no threat was a classic wereanimal insult.

“There’s no sign,” Nate said, taking in the man’s height and build. He was bigger than Nate’s packmate Rick—6’7” if he was an inch and equally muscle-bound. He could bench press Nate without effort but wouldn’t be as fast. This knowledge was in his voice as he continued. “I made sure your trucks would be able to get by if they went out in that direction.”

The man tucked up the last of the hose and turned. His hair was strawberry gold and wavy, his skin a rosy cream color. Many weretigers were of Indian descent but not all. This fellow looked like a Celt to him. When he spoke, a growl rolled under his voice.

“You misunderstand me, dog. You can’t park anywhere near here.”

A grin broke across Nate’s face. He wasn’t any more afraid than if this had been his pack’s beta. Nate knew how good he was at hand-to-hand. Civilized or not, some big lunk spoiling for a tussle put him in his happy place.

“I can park there,” he said, “and I have. If you want a piece of me for that, by all means give taking one a shot.” Enjoying this, he spread his hands and grinned more broadly, his fingers beckoning the other on.

The fireman lunk measured Nate scornfully with his gaze, tiger gold bleeding into Irish blue. He rolled onto the balls of his feet and tucked in his shoulders, clearly preparing to pounce into an attack. Laughing silently to himself, Nate thought: here, kitty! Then the tiger did the last thing he expected. Rather than spring, he blinked twice and backed off. Nate’s game-for-anything attitude had averted fights before, but guys this big didn’t generally give up so fast.

“Huh,” the fireman said, the sound of dismissal at least half cat. He narrowed his eyes at Nate, as if suspecting the wolf had played a trick on him. “Don’t be planning to park there long.”

“I won’t,” Nate promised, his meekness almost sincere. “Is your boss around?”

The tiger’s eyes slitted more. “Evina is in her office.”

Though Evina was this pride’s alpha, as a female she’d be considered a pride possession—one they’d instinctively do anything to defend. Nate walked through the garage bay with the awareness that hostile eyes followed him. It didn’t seem wise to challenge his watchers by staring directly, but he couldn’t help noticing every cat he passed was as massive as the first guy.

Evidently, when it came to the RFD, runts of the litter need not apply. Females weren’t barred from serving if they could pass the physical, but except for her, Evina’s crew was male.

He was a bit surprised when he completed their gauntlet without trouble.

Well, he thought, passing into an empty sitting area. That was interesting.

Inhabited as it was by felines, the building’s smell caused Nate’s wolfish nose to twitch. The aroma wasn’t unpleasant—musky, he guessed—and not what he was used to. The lounge-type furniture wasn’t bad. Secondhand and worn out by large bodies, heaps of colorful pillows brightened it. Nate’s inner neat freak approved of how clean the place was underneath its slight messiness. Rick and Tony were way bigger slobs than this.

A station house run by cats did have its upside.

He ascended a set of wooden stairs within the big open space. The steps led to an enclosed office, or maybe perch was a better word. Like Nate’s boss Adam, Evina worked with her door open. Metal support columns were the only barrier between the lounge space and the garage. From her big square window, she could view everything.

She didn’t seem to have watched him run her men’s gauntlet. She was on the phone leaning on one elbow, her graceful hand shielding her pretty eyes. Knowing she must have heard him by then, Nate waited politely outside the door.

She ended the call soon after and looked at him. Although she seemed curious about his presence, she gestured him to a guest chair whose seat had been repaired with bright blue duct tape. Patch job notwithstanding, it was more comfortable than Adam’s.

“That was the hospital,” she said. “One of my men suffered third degree burns yesterday. The doctors are trying to adjust his pain meds so that he’s not too drugged to change. He’s expected to make a good recovery, once he can manage that.”

“I’m sorry,” Nate said, wincing at the thought of not being able to heal such serious injuries. “Is there anything I can do?”

The question came out automatically. Nate saw it surprised Evina. She widened her lustrous eyes at him. “Not unless you can compel another shifter to change form. I’m afraid that’s not among my gifts.”

“My alpha can do it sometimes,” Nate said, “but as far as I know, his influence only works on wolves.”

“Your alpha . . .”

Nate smiled, glad redressing her earlier misconception had been easy. “Yes. As it happens, I have a beta too.”

“I thought . . .” She trailed off.

“I know. I realized last night. Believe me, I’m flattered.”

She shifted in her swiveling chair, her eyes considering him in a similar fashion to her hulking Irish guard cat. “I’m surprised. You give off quite the aura of confidence.”

“I’m confident about a lot of things,” Nate said, not quite straight-faced.

She blushed, delighting the most masculine part of him. “Yes,” she said dryly. “I noticed that.”

She pulled one foot up onto her chair, hugging her shin with both arms. Her foot was bare, her shin clad in worn blue jeans. Something about the pose, or maybe the curry orange polish on her toenails, gave Nate an instant erection.

“Why are you here?” Evina asked, seeming unaware of this. “I expected you to call.”

“Ah.” With one finger, Nate scratched his cheek in embarrassment. “It appears my alpha doesn’t find your vision of what happened in that secret operating room as compelling as I do.”

“He can’t be planning to ignore it.”

Nate shrugged uncomfortably. “He doesn’t think what you saw is evidence of a crime.”

“Well, fuck,” Evina said, the word too hard for her lush soft mouth. “You’re not going to ignore it, surely.”

“No. I convinced him to give me a detective and a couple uniforms. They’ll canvas the area around the factory. Hopefully, someone will have seen something.”

“And the child’s description?”

“I’m afraid I came up empty-handed at Missing Persons. No one’s reported a shifter child that age disappearing in the last eighteen months. They’ll check farther back, but I’m not holding my breath.”

“Those psychic impressions I read were fresh,” Evina said firmly. “Not more than a few months old.”

She jumped up and began to prowl the width of her office behind her desk. She reminded him of her tigress, the sight of which had enchanted him last night. She was more than wild; she was shifter sex on two legs. Muscles moved in her body that had him imagining her in bed. His hard-on shifted from uncomfortable to raging. He ordered himself not to tug his trousers and draw her eyes to it.

When she stopped and faced him dead on, excitement slapped through his blood. She’d come around the desk and was only feet from him.

“We’ll go to the media,” she said. “My mother’s dating a news producer at WQSN. Non-wolves don’t always report trouble to the cops. A direct appeal for information could generate some leads.”

Nate considered. WQSN was Resurrection’s third largest TV network. Their all-shifter soap operas were very popular.

“A sketch of the boy you saw would help,” he said, shoving aside his awareness of how ticked his alpha was going to be if they did this behind his back. “I know an artist who could work with you on one.”

“Good.” Evina smiled ferally at him.

She stood in front of him, her bare feet planted, her fists pushing at her waist. The teeth her smile bared seemed especially white and sharp. To him, she was a miniature Valkyrie.

A tiger queen, he corrected. One any male would be privileged to surrender to.

“I want to fuck you so bad I hurt,” he blurted.

She jerked, startled by his bluntness—as he was himself. Nate usually played his seduction cards more smoothly. A second later, her lovely bosom went up and down. Nate realized the tips of her breasts were sharp. That spurred a surge of heat he didn’t know how to squelch. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

Evina reached down, grabbing him by the skinny tie he wore with his black silk shirt. “Come with me,” she said huskily.

His hormones went haywire. Skin humming with arousal, he fought not to stumble as she tugged him onto his feet. Stronger than her size would suggest, she pulled him to her desk and around it. In his current panting state, he was almost willing to cast caution to the winds and let her take him on top of it, in clear view of her oversized pride members. His pretty hide was grateful when a panel in her rear wall swung open. The hidden door revealed a small private compartment.

“Welcome to my kitty hidey hole,” she purred.

He caught a glimpse of tufted saffron-colored leather, which padded both walls and floor. The floor was no more than three foot square, not big enough to lie down unless you were as small as she was and curled up. To want a private space like this must have been a cat thing. At the moment, the lack of size didn’t matter. Evina shoved the door closed behind them. A light came on, an exotic bazaar-style lantern dangling from a chain above.

“Rrr,” she said—part funny, part serious—as she slammed him unresisting against the wall. The little growl skipped along the nerves of his penis, making it thrum and throb. By this point, his cock was hard enough to pound railroad spikes. He reached for her bottom to pull her softness closer. She groaned as he hitched her up.

Nate wondered if a person could die of thankfulness.

“No one can blame me for this,” she said. “Wolf or not, you are too damned yummy.”

When her lips seized his and her hard-tipped breasts flattened against his chest, Nate decided no one could blame him either.

~

Evina’s memory hadn’t exaggerated his skill at kissing, or how hard his lean body was. He pulled her up him effortlessly, big hands arranging her thighs around his trim waist.

That done, he kneaded her bottom enticingly.

Her pussy tightened at the press of the bulge that stretched his trouser front. God, he was big—and exactly what she needed. The ache inside her had been building ever since he arrived. Now her head fell back, and Nate kissed a licking, stinging path down her neck. He was almost biting her, almost sucking hard enough to leave marks.

This should have dismayed her, but every nerve she had sang with excitement. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, so wide, so spare of any cushioning but muscle. She rolled her pubis over his large hard-on, hungry to stimulate both herself and it. Nate grunted and shoved his crotch at her harder.

“My God,” she breathed, loving how strong he was. “This is going to be good.”

“We’re doing this?” he panted. “This is on?”

“This is so on.”

He let out that grunt again and turned her, shoving her spine into the wall. They kissed openmouthed and urgent, growing increasingly aggressive now that they’d given in to their attraction. Nate’s clever seducer’s fingers opened her jeans and slid in. His hand was underneath her panties, the smooth hard tips of his fingers moving into her wet folds. He understood she wasn’t breakable. When he found the pulse and swell of her clitoris, he gave it a good strong squeeze.

Her private break room was soundproofed, but her throaty moan still struck her as too noisy.

Not too noisy for him. Nate kissed her harder and continued to rub her clit, his thumb and fingers rolling it between them. He was skilled at this, seeming to know exactly where the little rod was most sensitive. She supposed he might be reading her energy, not an uncommon gift among weres. Whatever his secret, he took advantage. He rubbed her sweet spots over and over, alternating the pressure just enough not to numb them out. Sensation coiled inside her groin, tingling, spreading, rising so swiftly it startled her.

“Don’t,” she gasped into his mouth.

“Do,” he urged, breathing raggedly.

He wanted her to come without him, and that wasn’t how she intended this to go. She fumbled for the front of his nice trousers—some designer brand, she could tell. “I want you inside me. I want you with me.”

His fastenings were more complicated than hers. Getting nowhere with opening them, she gripped his erection through the cloth. He growled at her. He sounded a little angry, but she’d gotten her message through.

“Crap,” he said when she refused to let go. Capitulating for now, he released her pussy and butt, allowing her legs to slide down his. He dropped then, managing to reach his knees in the confined space. Anger forgotten, he nuzzled her belly through the traditional tunic shirt she wore. He inhaled, long and slow, and she knew he was drawing in her essence. The room was too cramped for him to bend lower.

Considering his hum of pleasure, she had no doubt he would have otherwise.

She looked down just as he turned his face up to her, his cheek against her stomach. His dark eyes glowed gold within his lashes, almost like a tiger’s would. He smiled so sweetly and yet so wryly that her heart felt momentarily uncomfortable. He knew how impractical their attraction was. Her hand had fallen to his hair and was stroking it. It was hard not to notice his was silkier than hers.

“This is liable to be fast,” he warned humorously.

“Then I guess we’ll have to do it more than once.”

“Good. I don’t want to hear any nonsense about us getting this out of our systems.”

That startled her. She had been thinking along those lines. He distracted her by grinning, after which he yanked her worn denim jeans and panties all the way down her legs. Since he wasn’t able to kiss them, his hands claimed the honor of admiring her naked calves. He smoothed his touch from their shifting muscles to the back of her knees, where the warmth and sensitivity of his palms did amazing things to places he wasn’t close to touching.

Evina wondered if he had a roadmap to every woman’s erogenous zones. He certainly seemed to be taking a tour of hers. The energy with which the nerves in her clit were jumping completely unnerved her.

“Are my legs all you’re interested in?” she asked tartly.

He snorted out a laugh. “I’d remind you patience is a virtue, but as it happens, I’m not feeling virtuous myself.”

He proved it by rising so awkwardly his elbow thumped the wall.

“The room is padded,” she pointed out when he cursed softly.

“It’s small,” he countered.

“So am I,” she teased.

His eyes locked onto hers like lasers. In spite of his clear good humor, the predatory lowering of his brows caused her to shudder erotically. Cream trickled from her, filling the space with scent. Nate’s nostrils flared, one hand moving between them.

To her surprise, he wasn’t aiming for her sex. Quicker with his trousers than she’d been, he lowered his zipper with a spine-tingling rasp. Evina’s pride couldn’t prevent her from starting to pant like him.

“Touch me,” he ordered.

No one ordered her. Not at work and not in bed. Her head spun from his male scent, different from what she was used to but apparently effective at calling to her sexually. In truth, the differences made him call to her harder. Evina couldn’t remember being this desperate to do the deed before.

“You want me to touch your cock?” she asked, the question soft and breathy.

He took her wrist and placed her hand over him. Though he wasn’t rough about it, she wasn’t certain she could have resisted. She wanted to touch him too badly and—oh—his cock was silky. His skin burned beneath the curve of her fingers, the pulsing of his flesh too exciting not to savor.

“Touch it all over,” he instructed. “Dig me out of my jockstrap.”

Feeling odd for being so biddable, she freed him from the stretchy cotton. With her second hand, she eased out his testicles. They were tight and full, their skin roughened by light hair. Her fingers had their own cleverness. She played with his sac enough to have him biting back swear words.

Then she dragged both her hands up his long hard shaft.

He watched her do it, his head hanging helplessly. The tip of him was wet, luring her thumbs to massage the moisture around his crest. Under the rim seemed worth getting slick, and that killing spot on the throat. Nate seemed to like when she worked pressure into that.

She treated him as if he weren’t breakable either.

“God,” he gasped as she returned to his tip for more lubrication. She pushed across his hole until he shuddered. “God, Evina.”

“Take me now,” she said, judging he’d give in.

He looked at her. Lust had burned away his sadness and his humor, narrowing his focus to her alone. Tension caught in her throat as he lifted her by the rear again. Her legs bare, she gripped his waist with her thighs, needing no urging to squeeze them around him. He shifted his hips, and his crown nudged her labia. His eyes went dark a second before they flared.

She knew why his irises had lit up. She was even wetter than she’d been when he was fingering her.

He pushed inward without a word, and she took him the same way. His cock was smooth and hot and thicker than she’d expected, stretching her soft wet walls. When he needed a different angle to penetrate completely, she cocked her pelvis to it for him. He closed his eyes to slide in that last fraction, his hips wriggling against hers in a lovely rooting motion she couldn’t doubt he enjoyed. Her pussy clenched around it, the ache his deep pressure stirred marvelous.

His lashes rose and he smiled at her.

“What do you like?” he asked. “Fast? Slow?”

She blinked. It bothered her that he could ask this, that his control remained unshaken. Shouldn’t even a Romeo lose his cool for her? Rather than spoil the moment, she shoved her pique aside.

“I like it fast,” she answered. “And hard.”

He pressed his lips to hers once, gently. “As my lady commands,” he said.

~

Nate liked all sorts of women and all sorts of lovemaking. That said, there was nothing quite like letting loose with a fellow were. He could hardly imagine a better match than for his preferences than Evina.

She fit him in ways he hadn’t known a woman could.

Her slighter size made him want to protect her while her curves urged him to maraud. The groan of enjoyment that welcomed his first hard thrust told him he could get away with that. Even better, her assertiveness challenged the side of him that just knew it could take charge. He wanted to devastate her with every trick his years of lovemaking had taught him.

Unfortunately, he was too busy rocketing to Crazy Land for that.

No matter how fast and deep he drove his cock into her, his nerves urged him to grab more. She was helping, her ankles hooked tight in the small of his back, her heels digging in each time she thrust with him. Their bodies slapped each other more noisily than they did the padded wall.

Evina was so wet it would have been a crime not to make the most of her welcome. Nate braced one foot on the wall behind him to add to his thrusting power.

He grunted at the immediate enhancement of sensation. Each time he slung in her was like visiting heaven. Knowing her tigers were outside, he tried to be quieter. He might have saved himself the trouble. Evina was making more of a racket than he was.

“Shit,” she said, her fingernails pricking holes right through his nice silk shirt.

The idea that she was excited enough to lose control of her shape sent his arousal into the stratosphere. His own fingertips were hot, his claws trying to lengthen too. He reined them in with all his will, preferring not to bloody her cute bottom.

“God, you’re hot,” he swore, pumping still harder into her.

Evina bit her lip and tensed. Her head lashed from side to side on the tufted leather, the motion a silent no, no, no. Nate concluded she didn’t want to let go before he did.

“Me too,” he whispered, jerking his mouth closer to her ear. “My balls feel like they’re about to explode with come.”

It seemed she liked dirty talk. She whimpered and went for him, the strong contractions of her pussy incredible on his cock: soft wet ripples dragging him to the brink. Nate gasped, the fullness in his testicles increasing by what felt like a power of ten. He couldn’t have held on for anything. Sheer primal need overtook experience.

This was the moment when he and his beast were one.

Losing it, he cried out and shoved in as the heat of ejaculation rushed intensely from him. Her heels pulled in on his tailbone at exactly the perfect time, locking him as deep as he could go inside her while her sex clamped like a vise around him.

The pleasure of all those pressures made him groan. Pain, of course, wasn’t what pulled the sound from him.

“God,” he breathed as the ecstasy petered out.

She’d flung her arms around him at the climactic moment, instead of simply gripping his shoulders. Nate doubted she’d planned to do this but liked the full-on hug. He nuzzled her sweaty temple, relishing the feel of her hard breathing.

Because her pussy was quivering slightly—still coming, was his guess—he took a firmer grip on her hips and stroked gently out and in. His erection was mostly hard and this felt really nice to him. To her as well, he noted. Though she was very wet from their mutual orgasm, he couldn’t miss the increase in her interior temperature.

“Jeez,” she said in a worried tone.

Her concern inspired a chuckle. “We can do it again, you know. That didn’t take all that long, and weres are hard to exhaust.”

She lifted her head from his chest. Her eyes were suspicious but still glassy with pleasure. “Don’t take seducing me for granted.”

“Did I seduce you?” He laughed, more ebullient at that moment than he could recall being in a while. “I thought it was the other way around.”

“Shut up.” She shoved at his shoulder, to which he responded by kissing the fist she’d made. “Stop it,” she said in exasperation. “I need to get back to work.”

That irritated him a bit, since he couldn’t see why she’d be angry. Hadn’t they both enjoyed themselves? Years of stepping carefully around women’s sometimes mysterious reactions told him not to push the issue.

He released his grip on her and helped her to stand. Her knees were shaking, and that seemed to irk her too.

“You’re standing on my jeans,” she said, doing a poorer job than he was of concealing her annoyance.

Nate stooped as well as he was able and handed them to her. She tugged them on in the narrow space, her movements forcing Nate to flatten against the wall.

“Please zip yourself,” she said.

Nate did, then stopped her from opening the door by stretching his arm across it. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but was pretty sure he’d dislike the answer.

“Your hair,” he said. “Turn around, and I’ll neaten it for you.”

She grimaced, but did as he suggested. He handed her a handkerchief so she could blot the sweat from her face.

“You’re just Johnny on the Spot,” she said acidly.

Done reassembling her braid, he dropped his hands to her tense shoulders. Something in him hurt that she wasn’t happy. Unsure how to acknowledge that, or even if he wanted to, he spoke to her gently. “You knew I’d done this kind of thing before.”

Evina exhaled gustily. “I did. Forgive me for being grumpy. I’m . . . out of practice being a good sport about these things.”

Now that he had her apology, Nate wasn’t sure he wanted it. “You’re not the same-old, same-old,” he assured her. “I really hope we can do this again.”

She twisted around and patted his chest lightly. “You’re very sweet.”

Well, that wasn’t a real compliment, no matter how she meant it to sound. Stiff now himself, Nate pushed the hidey-hole door open. He had just enough room to let her exit ahead of him.

She froze in her tracks about a foot outside. “Mom. What are you doing here?”

“Seeing if you’re free for lunch,” said a sultry voice, “though it looks as though you’ve already had a bite.”

Nate couldn’t help but grin. This sounded more entertaining than fighting with Evina. He tucked his shirt into his now-zipped trousers, smoothed his hair, and stepped into her office. Evina’s mother didn’t look much like her, but he’d heard feline genetics were unpredictable. Unlike her daughter, the elder Ms. Mohajit was tall and willowy. She too had curly hair, though hers was a bright auburn that hung loose around her shoulders. She was made up expertly.

To his dismay, she seemed familiar. Women weren’t so mysterious that he didn’t know ever having hooked up with Evina’s mother would be extremely bad.

His heart lurched when she cocked her head to the side. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe so,” he said as Evina quietly sighed oh God.

“I do,” the woman insisted. “You bought a baby blanket in my shop just the other day. Elf-spelled in white velvet.”

“Oh,” he said, the strength of his relief shocking him. “Yes. Rita’s Treasures on Tenth Street.”

Evina’s mother offered him her elegant long hand. “I’m Rita, of course.”

“Nate Rivera,” he returned automatically.

She kept her hold on his hand, not flirting so much as not letting him get away. “I trust the present was a success.”

“Very much so. My alpha’s wife loved it.”

“Your alpha’s wife.” Rita’s slight smile deepened. “So . . . you have no children yourself?”

Nate fought a smile of his own. He rather her liked her playing the mother card, checking him out for her daughter. “No children, no wife.”

“Ah,” she said, “and you such a handsome man.”

“He’s a handsome wolf,” Evina broke in sharply. “I think even your plate is a little full for that adventure.”

Rita’s expression was startled for a second, after which it turned delighted. “Oh darling, that’s sweet of you, but I wasn’t vetting him for me.”

Evina’s cheeks turned the red of Nate’s favorite pie filling. Seeing mortification had struck her speechless, her mother took pity. She dropped his hand to give her daughter a quick hug. Then she undid whatever good she’d accomplished by whispering that she was glad Evina was finally letting herself have fun.

“It wasn’t fun!” Evina said. “I mean—” Flustered again, she shot Nate an apologetic look. “You were wonderful of course, but, Mom, I’m helping him on a case.”

“A case?” Concerned, Rita turned her gaze to him. “Are you the reason my daughter came in late last night?”

“I’m afraid I am, though she wasn’t in any danger. In truth, both of us were hoping you might be of assistance . . .”

Chapter Four

UNABLE to resist the one-two punch of Nate’s charm and Evina’s determination, Rita Mohajit agreed to set up a meeting with her producer friend later that evening. She made Nate promise he wasn’t endangering her baby girl. Nate gave his word solemnly, endeared by Rita’s behavior. Evina was less enthralled.

“Mom,” she finally said. “You do remember what I do for a living.”

“Of course,” her mother soothed, bending slightly to kiss her cheek. “But this is different. This could involve criminals.”

Her walk as she departed was a different kettle of sexy from her daughter’s. Nate would have bet good money Rita had been practicing being slinky all her life. Her sway in her high-heeled sandals was too deliberate. Being who he was, Nate admired the performance. Evina’s crew appeared to as well. More than one male nose twitched at the trail of tigress and patchouli Rita left behind her.

“You can pull your tongue back into your mouth,” Evina said sourly.

Nate grinned, happier with her than he could explain. “When you get snippy, it makes me want to kiss you.”

“Snippy!” The way she pursed her lips suggested she was remembering kissing him. That was fair, he thought, since he was doing the same thing.

The next order of business was bringing Evina to meet Nate’s favorite street artist. They argued over taking one car or two, but Nate’s Goblinati was more reliable. Converted Outsider cars like her Camry never ran on ambient energy as well as those that were built for it.

“Stop smirking,” she demanded from the passenger seat, where he’d been appreciating how nice she looked with her legs curled up. “It’s not a sign of weakness to do something sensible.”

“Should I offer to let you drive?”

“I’m not as good as you,” she grumped. “I’d be terrified of scratching your paint job.”

Nate showed respect for her honesty by letting a short silence pass. Then, because the rebel wolf inside him couldn’t leave well enough alone, he asked the question that was needling him. “Tell me, Evina, are you always this bad-tempered after a nice quickie?”

“Yes,” she retorted. “My crew is constantly warning me I’d better not get laid.”

This was so silly both of them had to laugh.

Nate reached out to rub her thigh. For just a second, she put her hand over his. Brief though the contact was, it finished calming them.

It occurred to Nate that they were reacting to each other like they were pack.

That idea shut him up until they reached the not quite legal street market under historic Irving Bridge. The cast iron bridge marked the boundary of a thriving artist’s district. Some tables sold junk, others genuine finds. The vendors were a mix too, from barely scraping by to commanding thousands at galleries. Dave Redfield was at the upper end. He set his booth up here every Monday so as not to lose touch with the community who’d inspired him to begin with.

Ironically, considering his name, Redfield was a blue elf, his skin an indigo so dark it was nearly black. The best way to tell it wasn’t was to compare the color with his ebony waist-length dreads. His ice blue eyes added to his striking appearance, as did his high cheekbones. Built on more solid lines than most elves, who could be ethereal, the pointy ears he sported declared the purity of his blood.

Nate liked him even better for not being snooty about his lineage.

“Nate,” he said, rising from a cheap beach chair to swing out a hand to him.

Nate gripped the dark blue mitt and then bumped knuckles, their personal manly greeting. “Dave. I’m hoping I can introduce you to a new friend of mine.”

“Always happy to meet a beautiful female.”

“Oh boy,” Evina said, though she was smiling. “I see why you two get along.”

Dave looked from her to Nate. “Both of you are wearing serious auras. Something tells me you aren’t here to admire paintings.”

His latest creations hung on makeshift pegboard walls that angled in a squared U behind him. One had already caught Nate’s eye—a picture of this very bridge at night with a pair of moonlit gargoyles poised on its railing, their wings lifted for the moment of taking flight. The simplicity of Dave’s style made the image charming and spooky at the same time, as if Chagall and Grandma Moses were smoking faerie dust together.

“Not today,” he admitted regretfully. “I’m hoping you can do me an under-the-table semiofficial police favor.”

Dave burst into a laugh. “Under the table and semiofficial. That sounds like you to me.”

Nate put his hand on Evina’s shoulder. “My friend saw something psychically, a child we think might have disappeared. We can’t confirm that until we have a picture to go with what she saw.”

“I can do that,” Dave said, his handsome features falling back into graver lines. “Why don’t we step into my office?”

His “office” was the space between his rear pegboard wall and a pier of the old iron bridge. He’d stretched lengths of fabric across clotheslines to give him privacy from the bargain hunters and sightseers. Weeds grew from the uneven ground, but the broken glass and clutter were cleared away. With a flourish that reminded Nate elves were related to royalty, Dave opened another folding beach chair for Evina. He set it at a small paint-caked table.

The elf looked down at her as she sat gracefully, the dappled light underneath the bridge making quite a picture of her. Evina was feminine yet fierce, sexy but natural, her catlike curiosity overruling her slight shyness. She seemed simultaneously vulnerable and imposing. Nate didn’t think he’d ever met a woman whose contradictions fascinated him so much. To his irritation, he wasn’t sure Dave had either.

Obviously dazzled, the blue elf pulled out a sketchpad and sat across from her. “You can come back and pose anytime.”

Evina’s hand flew up to her curly hair. Unbeknownst to her, Nate had used his shifter speed and dexterity to arrange it in a flattering French braid. She looked even prettier than she suspected. “Oh,” she said. “That’s . . . very nice of you.”

Redfield’s chuckle was low and male. “What’s nice is watching my old friend glare daggers over you.”

~

Was the good looking elf serious? Was Nate glaring daggers, as he put it? She didn’t look, as this might indicate more interest than she wished to betray. Nate certainly knew fascinating people. Shifters didn’t always make friends beyond their own kind. She knew the thought that Nate was jealous shouldn’t have gratified her. The last thing she was looking for was that sort of relationship. Possessiveness was not a tiger ideal.

Unsettled, Evina pushed her tunic’s sheer sleeves to her elbows. She jumped when Redfield put his ink-blue hand on her bare forearm.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m going to read you lightly while you tell me what you saw. It’s a check and balance between what I picture at your words and what you actually perceived. It’ll help me bring the sketch alive.”

Evina had never had her mind read before. Elfin magic was a step down in power from that of the fae, but elves had lots of mojo compared to weres. This made sense when you thought about it. Faeries and elves were cousins.

“Um,” she said, “are there confidentiality ethics elves follow?”

“There are,” he said, “and you can count on me to only read what’s relevant.”

She looked up at Nate, who nodded. She didn’t know Nate that well, but she supposed she trusted his judgment. They wouldn’t have been here if he hadn’t trusted hers.

“Okay,” she said. “Have at it.”

Whatever Dave did, she didn’t feel a thing. She went through the story as she had for Nate, her memory of the happy little boy being smothered bringing a chill to the warm bright day. When she’d finished, Dave turned the sketchpad around for her to see.

She gasped, her hand flattened to her chest. He’d caught the child exactly, right down to his “I’m Tricky!” striped T-shirt. “That’s it. That’s exactly what I saw.”

The elf’s pale eyes were sad enough to give her goose bumps. “I didn’t put in the room,” he said, turning his face to Nate. “I thought that might be a detail you wanted to hold back.”

“It is.” Nate touched the picture’s edge. He shivered like she had. “This helps. Thank you.” He shook the elf’s hand as he had before, though this time their knuckle bump was slower.

“If you can,” Dave said, “tell me how this turns out.”

~

Their moods were thoughtful as they returned to the car. Nate’s tie was still loose from her yanking it for their quickie, and he’d rolled his cuffs halfway up his arms. With his hands thrust into his pockets, he made the dishabille look impossibly fashionable. Evina got a shock from noting the tiny holes her claws had left in his dark silk shirt.

Somehow, Nate made even that stylish.

She got into his sports car in silence, wishing she could think of a reason to extend her time with him. That was childish; she needed to get back to work in case a call came in. All the same, she couldn’t deny his company was pleasant. Riding in his Goblinati was pleasant too: the sunshine, the warm breeze, his expert hands on the wheel. There was something fundamentally girly about letting a man drive her.

“We could get coffee,” he suggested at the first red light. He sounded as tentative as she felt.

Reluctantly, Evina shook her head. “I shouldn’t leave Liam to fill in for me too long.”

“Liam is the big Irish guy?”

“That’s one way to describe him. He didn’t harass you about seeing me, did he?”

Nate smiled, private amusement glinting in his eyes. “Only enough to prove he valued you.”

“Christophe is my usual backup. He astral projects as well as I do.”

“Christophe is the one in the hospital.”

“Yes.” She watched Nate’s right hand spin the wheel as he made a turn. His fingers were a lovely toasted color and very elegant. She struggled not to recall the feel of them gripping her bottom. “You’re good at remembering details, aren’t you?”

Nate flashed his killer grin. “Part of my job, sweetheart.”

Evina was willing to bet it was more than that. Nate had a good brain between his ears.

He exited the neighborhood side streets for River Drive—not exactly a short cut but more scenic. Evina watched a pleasure boat cut a wake through the green water. The extra glitter around its passengers told her faeries were aboard. Faeries were the city’s biggest celebrities, like royalty and rock stars rolled into one. Though she was no gossip junkie, Evina couldn’t help wondering what this group was up to.

“Can I ask you something?” Nate said. “Why do you think your mother is more attractive than you are?”

This brought her gaze back to him. “You’ve seen her, right? She’s a sex goddess on a diet. Men’s eyes follow her everywhere she goes.”

“Men’s eyes follow you.”

Evina released a snort. “Not like they do Rita.”

“Trust me, who’s a sex goddess and who isn’t is very much in the eye of the beholder. And you hardly have to worry about your weight.”

“Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?”

“Is that how it’s going to be?” he joked. “You think I’m a pick-up artist, so you won’t believe anything I say?”

“If you told me the sky was blue, I’d probably believe that.”

Nate shot a strangely fond look at her. “Your mother isn’t alpha, which I suspect secretly bugs her. That could be why she feels a need to compete with you.”

Evina could only gape at him. He was more than smooth, he was scary insightful.

“Hey,” he said, “I’m more than a pretty face.”

“No kidding,” Evina muttered to herself.

~

Rita’s friend the news producer was a bit too excited about scooping his rival networks on a possible big story. Nate was glad they’d met in a small Greek restaurant instead of the studio. The fewer eyes on this meeting, the better. He didn’t want Derrick Black’s ambitions putting Evina in jeopardy.

“You can’t use Miss Mohajit’s name or image,” Nate said, leaning across the table toward the silver-haired werepanther. “We don’t know what happened yet, but we have to treat her as a witness whose identity needs to be be shielded.”

“‘Have you seen this child?’ doesn’t make for much of a story,” Derrick Black complained.

“It isn’t a story. It’s a favor WQSN is doing for a member of the RPD.”

This was splitting hairs but honest. Sensing something off but not what, Black crossed his arms. He was a lean older shifter, handsome enough to be on-air talent, were it not for the Wall Street sharpness around his eyes. The four of them sat in an isolated booth at the back of the family restaurant, untouched cups of coffee in front of them. “This isn’t how the station usually gets requests from the police.”

“This situation is delicate, and maybe time sensitive. I give you my word I’ll remember I owe you one.”

“Sweetie,” Rita interrupted, her manicured hand stroking Black’s expensive suit jacket. “They’re trying to help a kid. Surely you don’t have to profit from everything.”

The producer struck Nate as the sort who did, but evidently Rita’s pull on him was strong. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll air the picture at eleven, six and noon. You need more than that, you’ll find you owe me two.”

“Understood.” Sensing it was time to withdraw, he rose and shook Black’s hand. Evina stood with him, all of them understanding Rita would be staying. This seemed all right with her. As far as Nate could tell, Black’s rough edges didn’t rub her the wrong way.

“Phew,” Evina said once they’d stepped out into the fresher air of the street. “Good thing my mother doesn’t mind swimming with the sharks.”

~

Maybe he shouldn’t have, given his ranking in the pack, but Nate subscribed to the adage that it was easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. That said, he knew he’d arrived at the point where his knees had better shine the floor. He hoped he hadn’t gone too far for his alpha to accept groveling.

A quick cell call to Carmine yielded the information that Adam was at the precinct.

“Where you been, bruddah?” the stocky werecop asked, putting on one of his many fake accents. If pressed, Carmine could pass for almost any nationality on the phone. “You missed some excitement.”

Wincing, Nate allowed his pedal foot to grow slightly more leaden. He was ten minutes out from the station house, eight if he finessed stoplights. “What happened?”

“Well, nothing regarding your door-to-door. Me and the unis came up with nada. Nobody’s seen nobody, doctor or otherwise. Rick and Tony’s crew, however, unearthed a corpse.”

“The Galinas’ not-so-naturally-deceased CPA?”

“Looks like. Nice and stinky too. The bad news is a sorcerer worked some mojo on the body and the site. The techs are saying there’s no trace to test. Without hard evidence to link Ivan to the murder, there’s nothing to prove Vasili didn’t do the number cruncher all by himself.”

“Aiy,” Nate said, imagining this wouldn’t please Adam. Their lieutenant controlled his temper better than most, but he wanted the werewolf mobsters bad. He cursed as another driver made him miss the light for his turn on Mott. Damn taxis shouldn’t cut people off.

“Aiy is right,” Carmine agreed. “Story goes, suspicion for Vasili’s alleged embezzling fell on the accountant first, which led to him being given his premature sendoff. If the accountant could have proven Vasili stole the money, younger bro would have had motive.”

“Except why give up the dump location if Vasili didn’t think it would implicate Ivan?”

“To stall us maybe. He looks like he’s cooperating, so we keep him around. Ivan’s going to tear Vasili limb from limb, probably in slow motion, the minute we let him go.”

“Maybe.” Nate got his chance to turn at last, glad his shifter reflexes allowed him to multitask. “I feel like we’re missing something with this Galina thing. I just can’t put my finger on what it is.”

“You want your finger to be useful, get your head back into the game. Rick and Tony are good, but your brain is more devious than theirs. Adam could use you on this.”

Nate wished he could drop the snake tail he and Evina had got their claws into. He couldn’t though, no matter if the snake twisted around and bit him. He believed a child’s fate hung in the balance, possibly more than one. Noticing where he was, he shifted more of his attention onto the street. Older buildings surrounded their station house, tiny businesses tucked into their ground floors. Nate shot a wistful glance at his favorite espresso bar, regretting it wasn’t strategic to stop right then.

“I’m coming up on the garage,” he informed Carmine. “I’ll see you in a few.”

“Put up your umbrella,” Carmine advised. “Boss-man looks like a thundercloud.”

By the time Nate parked and joined his squad, Adam and the others were wolfing down Chinese take-out in the break room. Seated closest to the door, Tony handed him a full box of beef lo mein. Nate would have appreciated the gesture more if he hadn’t seen the pity in Tony’s expression.

He was about to catch it good.

Adam was tipped back in a chair, his feet stacked on the break room table, his chopsticks stabbing into another box. Carmine’s mention of thunderclouds was accurate. Their alpha looked as frustrated as Nate had ever seen.

“Well,” he said sarcastically at Nate’s arrival, “look what the cat dragged in.”

Nate was certain the feline reference was deliberate. Evina’s race might not be appropriate for dating, but it was hardly cause for shame. Not about to apologize for it, he pulled his spine straight and faced his boss head on. “You got a minute to talk?”

Adam’s face darkened. Apparently, his mood dictated that he say no to anything he was asked. “Whatever very important business you’ve been up to, I’m sure you can share it with the team.”

“Fine,” Nate said, his own temper stretched. “I commissioned a sketch of Evina’s vision. I’ve released it to WQSN. They’ll be airing it on the eleven, six and noon broadcasts. I gave them one of our open tip lines. The calls will go to recording, but I could use Dana’s help screening them.”

Dana was their dispatcher. She liked Nate and wouldn’t mind, but that didn’t cut him slack with Adam. The others knew this. They’d fallen silent, holding their breath for the explosion that now seemed inevitable.

Face like a mask, Adam dropped the front legs of his plastic chair to the floor. His voice came out as a half-wolf growl. “Any other way we can serve you?”

“No,” Nate said, something in him suddenly, crazily unable to bend at all. “That’ll do me for now.”

Adam launched his body out of the chair, his spring carrying him over the table to crash into Nate’s chest. Nate fell backward beneath his weight, too startled to defend himself.

“Lieu!” Tony and Carmine called in protest.

They’d hopped out of their chairs, but only Rick, Adam’s second, dared to lay his palm against Adam’s back. Adam snarled at the touch that was meant to calm him.

“I’m not hurting him,” he said, which was true enough. His grip had caught Nate’s shoulders and his eyes were practically shooting flames, but all he was doing was holding him submissive under him.

His alpha energy pushed at Nate like it would keep him down forever.

“Is it too late to apologize?” Nate ventured humorously.

Adam wasn’t ready to laugh. “What is it with you lately? You catch a whiff of this pussy’s pussy, and suddenly you’re unhappy with your place here?”

Nate’s jaw fell at his crudeness. Adam wasn’t species-ist that he knew. “I love this pack,” he said once he’d recovered. “You guys are my family.”

“You love this pack,” Adam said darkly, “but you don’t love your place in it.”

Nate couldn’t deny this, no more than Adam’s alpha instincts could tolerate insubordination. Nate’s gut clenched uneasily. They’d come to a confrontation that had been building for a while.

“I love the pack,” he repeated, his voice shaking. “I respect every one of you.”

“Ease up, Lieu,” Carmine said, the most experienced shifter among them. “Let your wolf relax. Nate’s backed down enough for now.”

The fire in Adam’s eyes guttered to a glimmer. He pulled in his claws, which Nate only just noticed were extended. They hadn’t broken skin, but they made a soft ripping noise as they left his nice black shirt. Between Adam and Evina, the expensive Ermenegildo Zegna was history.

If his pulse hadn’t been drumming like a rabbit’s within his throat, Nate might have laughed. As it was, when Adam shifted his heavy weight off him, what he mostly felt was relief.

Grudgingly, Adam offered him a hand up.

“I am sorry I made you angry,” Nate said as he took it. “I don’t know how to let this case go.”

Both statements were honest, as Adam seemed to recognize. He rolled the last of his alpha tension out of his big shoulders. “You’ve got to show me results, Nate. Not just weird rooms and visions and behind-my-back meetings with reporters.”

“We will,” Nate assured him. “I know there’s something here.”

He realized only later that his reference to we didn’t mean him and Carmine.

Chapter Five

EVINA had finally gotten the twins tucked in bed when Rita used her key to saunter through the front door. Dressed to the nines in a sleeveless red cocktail dress, she joined her daughter in the kitchen. Evina was washing up dishes there. How three people dirtied so many she’d never figure out.

“You’re back from your date early,” Evina commented.

Rita poked a fork at a piece of leftover brownie, then set the utensil down. Though shapeshifters had fast metabolisms, she didn’t believe in tempting Fate. “Derrick had to go to the studio.”

“I’ve got the kids tonight. You didn’t have to come over.”

“This thing you saw . . .” Rita twisted her mouth. “It makes me want to stick close to my grandcubs.” She gave Evina’s arm a rub. “You should go out.”

“Me?”

“I know. That delicious man you’ve been flirting with is the Big Bad Wolf. That makes it better, if you ask me. No expectations on either side.”

Not so sure about that, Evina dried her hands on a clean dishtowel.

“You can’t mourn Paul forever,” Rita pointed out.

“I’m hardly mourning him. He’s not dead.”

“No, he just got married—which if you’re honest, you’ll admit is worse.”

“Mom!” Despite not wanting to encourage her mother’s outrageousness, Evina had to laugh. “He’s the father of my children. He loves them, and he was never unfair to me. I couldn’t wish him dead.”

Temporarily neutered, maybe, but not dead.

“That wife of his is barely thirty,” her mother said as if the insult of Paul finding a lifemate had been to her. “And she’s not even a full tiger.”

Paul’s wife Liane was a quarter fae and very beautiful—more beautiful than Rita, which could explain why her mother had taken such a dislike to her.

“That wolf is way sexier than Paul,” her mother said silkily. “You know what they say about the best revenge.”

“That it isn’t a mother’s business to get it for her daughter?”

“Very funny.” Her mother pulled a single wine glass down from the cabinet. “You know you’re itching to have at that wolf again. And, who knows, maybe you’ll help him solve the case. Cats are cleverer than dogs.”

Her mother was cleverer than a fox, as she proved with her next words. “What’ll it be, sweetie? Sit home drinking cabernet with your mother or work out your frustrations with a very handsome and willing man?”

“Fine.” Evina stopped Rita from pulling a second glass out of the cabinet. “I’ll go. And I’ll be back before breakfast.”

“Bring milk,” her mother said. “Rafi drank the last of it yesterday.”

~

By the time, Evina parked in front of Nate’s address, she was sweaty-palmed anxious. She was also uncomfortably aroused. Too many fantasies of what she wanted to do to the sexy wolf had accompanied her drive over. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d simply showed up on a man’s doorstep. She would have called ahead, but that had seemed too much like playing supplicant.

Tigresses shouldn’t have to ask if they were welcome.

She stepped out of the car with her nerves trying to jump in too many directions. The area where Nate lived was nicer than hers: more trees, more expensive better-kept buildings. The four-story warehouse he called home was wider than three of her neighborhood’s townhouses.

Tasteful brushed aluminum letters announced the building’s name as “Alchemist’s Lofts.” Evina wondered if RPD detectives earned more than station chiefs, or if not having two kids to feed and clothe made the difference. Paul contributed now and then, but regular child support wasn’t expected of male tigers. The ones who were alpha enough to breed tended to have too many offspring for that to be practical.

Maybe Nate’s a good saver, she told herself.

Stalling, she ran her gaze up the building’s front. When he’d given her his address and private phone number, saying she could get in touch with him anytime, he’d mentioned his unit took up fourth floor. Though the hour was past ten, his lights were on. When she strained her ears, she thought she heard faint music.

That seemed promising . . . unless the sultry R&B meant he already had female company.

“Rrr,” she growled underneath her breath, disgusted with her dithering. If he had company, so be it. If she wasn’t welcome, she’d live. The only truly lowering decision would be not pressing his buzzer.

She marched herself to the glass front security door. N. Rivera was the uppermost of the seven buttons. At her mother’s insistence, she’d dressed up a bit. To her dismay, the moment she pushed the buzzer, wet heat ran out of her pussy to dampen the fancy panties she’d pulled on.

“Yes?” said Nate’s smoky voice, the answer coming too soon for her to compose herself.

The building’s intercom was set high into the wall. She lifted her chin to speak to it. “It’s Evina.”

A startled pause greeted that. “I’ll buzz you right up,” he said.

~

Following Nate’s instructions, Evina took the old-style freight elevator to his floor. He must have guessed she’d enjoy working the contraption. Like any shifter, she had no trouble climbing stairs—even if that involved jogging up them in three-inch sandal heels.

He opened his door as she shut the accordion gate behind her. Naturally, he was his usual smooth self. His gaze slid over her leather miniskirt and snug wrap top. The blouse was printed to look like a field of flowers. Her cleavage in the V of the crisscrossed neckline was not subtle. When it came to admiring that, Nate was no different from most men.

A wolfish smile spread across his face. “Dare I hope this is a booty call?”

Evina lowered her brows and glared.

“You mean it is?” He laughed with quick delight. “Oh let me shut my mouth and give thanks for my good fortune!”

Resenting his charm and miffed at being seen through so easily, she sauntered past him into his apartment. Her first glimpse at that had her forgetting to guard her pride.

His place was huge—airy, modern, the ceilings so high a tribe of monkeys would have felt at home swinging on the exposed struts.

“Wow,” she said, taking in what looked like museum-quality retro furniture. “Your pay grade must be a few levels above mine.”

When she turned back to him, he’d colored up slightly. “I save,” he said. “Most of my things are refurbished eBay finds. And my mother left me some money after she died.”

“She was a cop?” Evina asked, suddenly intensely curious.

He nodded. “It was a line of duty death. My father cut out when I was four, so the two of us were close.”

The back of Evina’s eyes burned. Life bonds were uncommon among tigers but not wolves. His father leaving couldn’t have been easy.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiled, either not upset about it anymore or good at pretending. “Let me get you a glass of wine.”

Evina trailed Nate into the spotless kitchen, noting with some amazement that he had two dishwashers. They were Brownie Hygienics, a brand she could only dream about affording. “I can’t stay long.”

“So this is one of those booty calls,” he teased. “Planning to ride me hard, then toss my ass back in the stable.”

“I wasn’t planning. Exactly.”

He pulled two beautiful balloon glasses from the open shelving that was arranged like an art project on his long side wall. “I’ll just serve you a couple ounces. I can see you’re nervous, and I do want you to relax, but I understand you might need to drive later.”

With a deftness that was wonderful to see, he uncorked a bottle with an Argentine label. He poured a small amount in each glass, turning the bottle like a wine steward. Then he passed hers over.

“A votre sante,” he said, chinging the delicate crystal rims.

“You should give lessons,” Evina said dazedly.

Something in her tone caused him to lower the glass before it touched his lips. “I’m glad you’re here, Evina. Genuinely. I don’t mean to seem insincere. I’m just . . .”

“Really good at this?” she suggested.

Nate set his wine on the black marble countertop. “I didn’t light candles,” he offered hopefully. “And I did have time before you came up.”

She laughed, set her own glass down, and stepped toe to toe with him. Time to give him her own honesty. “I’m glad I’m here, even if your . . . extreme suaveness knocks me off balance.”

Nate slid his arms behind her waist. “Everything about you knocks me off balance. You are so effing gorgeous you make me hurt.”

His dark eyes had taken on a luster as he pulled her cautiously closer. Though their hips rested only lightly together, Evina noticed certain developments had already taken place for him. The ridge of his erection lay hot between them, its size and hardness making her pussy squirm. “I thought about you all the way over here in the car.”

Nate’s breath came faster. “What did you think about me?”

“That I wanted to see you naked. That I wanted your hands all over me in bed.” She cruised her palms up his chest, over the simple black pocket T he wore.

“Would you like to start working on that now?” he asked.

She covered his ears with her hands and pulled his mouth to hers.

The kiss was good—deep, hungry, angling this way and that as he took control of it. It seemed natural to let him, to give way when he turned to press her lower body into the shiny Italian cabinets.

“E-vi-na,” he moaned, his hips and cock digging in. “You are the best thing that’s happened to me all year.”

All year struck her as a surprising claim. He appeared to mean it. His hands ironed down her back, around the curve of her leather mini where it clung to her butt.

“Mmm,” he hummed, pulling her lower parts closer still.

“I could use some help with this,” she said, struggling to drag up his black T-shirt. “You’re taller than I am.”

He backed off far enough to grip the hem with both hands. He took a second to smolder at her, then whipped it over his head.

“Wow,” she said, enjoying her eyeful of his anatomy manual chest. Helpless not to, her caresses followed her eyes, trailing up his ribs and circling his sharp nipples. She gave each of these a quick love bite, not hard enough to break skin but just to make him inhale sharply with excitement.

Smolder didn’t describe what his eyes did then.

“That outfit is nice,” he rasped. “I think you’d better take it off before I rip it.”

He lifted his hands, displaying the wolf claws that were starting to extend. The sight of those small erections made her shiver.

“Move back,” she said, her voice as rough as his.

He retreated to the nearest of his two dishwashers. She made a little presentation of stripping off her stretchy shirt, letting him absorb the visual of her pushed up breasts in the blue satin and black lace bra. He’d pressed his palm to his heart by the time she reached behind herself to unzip the miniskirt. A single push and wriggle sent the garment dropping around her high-heeled sandals.

Thanks to Rita’s bullying, her bra matched her underwear. Thanks to Evina’s genuine interest in impressing Nate, the coordinated panties were a thong.

Nate’s eyes traveled very slowly back to her face. “Women like you in underwear like that make life worth living.”

She laughed. How could she not when he was this generous with his praise? “Take down your ponytail,” she said, wanting to see his hair spread around those broad brown shoulders.

“Undo your braid,” he returned.

Evina’s hair was longer, and he finished before she did. Despite being available to help, he didn’t offer. He seemed to enjoy watching her unbind herself. His clawed hands curled tellingly at his sides, the bulge of his erection sinfully enticing. Its shape was outlined so clearly behind his zipper she had no doubt it pointed upward in his jeans.

The slant of it couldn’t have been more rakish.

“There,” she said, shaking the last of her dark curls free. The lowest tendrils were tickling her hips.

Somewhat to her surprise, the sight poleaxed Nate. “I want you on top of me,” he declared, soft and guttural. “I want your hair hanging all around us while you ride me.”

His intensity was catching, clutching at the soft flesh between her legs. “Where’s your bed?”

“Opposite corner of the loft.”

“Get me to it fast, and I’ll give you a reward.”

Her tone was teasing, his snarl of answer all business. He grabbed her off her feet as only a shifter could, zipping her across his home so quickly their surroundings blurred. They landed on his wide platform bed with a mutual gasp for air.

His sheets were impractical white silk—forgivable, considering how fine Nate’s lean body looked lying back on them. Not wanting to ruin the fabric, Evina kicked off her shoes.

That done, she didn’t waste an instant attacking his zipper.

“God,” he said as she freed the button. She wrenched the tab down next, careful not to clip him but quick enough. His penis was hot and thick as she extricated it from his jock. Lust flushed its skin darkly.

Evina knew exactly what she wanted to do to it.

“Fuck,” he gasped when she slid her lips over the hot satin of the head.

He bucked into her, like he couldn’t control himself, his half-clawed fingers forking through her hair. She took him to the verge of her throat, her alpha’s command of her reflexes able to handle pressure there. He groaned and heaved, his narrow ass thumping on the mattress as he went up and down. Evina pressed her forearms down on his hips. She needed strength to prevent his writhing from jerking him out of her.

“Ahh,” he cried as she tightened her lips still more and sucked upward.

Her tongue dragged a lightning circle around his cockhead’s rim. Half dozen times she repeated this suck and tease, knowing his most sensitive nerves would love the slick friction. His claws tightened in her hair, his whole body straining for more pleasure. Evina sank down once more and swallowed against his glans.

Fluid spurted into her throat. She wanted it, wanted to suck him up until he was empty. Nate let out a growl that sounded more wolf than man, every muscle in his body clenching as he willed his ejaculation to cut short.

Evina was impressed. Only alpha tigers could control themselves like that.

A second later, she found herself flipped over and on her back beneath him. That pushed her buttons like she wouldn’t have believed. Nate’s muscular thigh slid between her legs, her thong absolutely useless for hiding how sopping wet she’d grown. The noise he made when he realized this was surprisingly like a purr. Strangely panicked, Evina pushed at his chest. She liked what was happening too much, and the feel of him weakened her. The force of his heartbeat shook his bones and muscles.

“I thought you wanted me to ride you,” she panted.

Eyes glowing like gold flames, he lowered his head and kissed her.

No word existed to describe what she did but melt.

She opened to him—mouth, arms, even her energy seeming to part and give his access. He moaned at her and she moaned in answer, wrapping her legs around him to hold him close. Long delicious minutes passed while they tasted and stroked and rubbed against each other. To her delight, wolves seemed to like this as much as tigers. Nate managed to get her fancy bra off without tearing it. He brought both hands up to squeeze her breasts, using careful claws and strong fingers to tease the nerves within her nipples. Her vaginal muscles began to flutter, though it was difficult to say whether this was due to the stimulation or his obvious relish for touching her.

Because he’d curtailed the climax she’d tried to drive him to, he was twice as wound-up now. All the while as they writhed together, his cock trickled pre-ejaculate on her skin. The pulse inside its hardness was wild and uneven.

Finally, he pulled his head back and looked at her. Feeling like she’d been faerie-struck, she touched his quirky asymmetrical lower lip, reddened now from them feasting on each other. The R&B he had on swelled toward a crescendo, as if they were in a romantic movie. Probably the music was skewing her emotions. She wanted to tell him he kissed like an angel, but found herself speechless. His tongue snuck between slightly lengthened canines to lick her finger. He nipped it playfully.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. “I’m taking my pants off now.”

She lay there on the silky sheets, passive but disinclined to change that while he rolled nimbly off her and stood. His modern platform bed was low to the ground, its simple wooden headboard no more than foot tall. Evina reached back to grip it and stretch her spine. Nate seemed to tower above her as he shoved his jeans down and got naked. Though she’d seen his cock thrusting out already, he had more to appreciate. The muscles of his legs were gorgeous, lightly furred and very long. His balls were full but drawn up.

Seeing them, aroused by them, Evina cupped her hand around the front of her thong and tried to squeeze her ache away.

“God,” he said, his gaze locked to her fingers. “Pull them off.”

Figuring he meant the panties, she wriggled out of them. She put her hand back where it had been before. Nate dropped to his knees over her. His palms were planted to either side of her shoulders, his neck craned down to watch her stroke her clit. His now loose and shining hair hung down, shielding his expression—though she couldn’t doubt he found her show inspiring. A warm drop of pre-cum splashed from his cockhead to her belly.

“Nate,” she said, dragging his attention reluctantly to her face. “I think you ought to take me now.”

“Unh,” was his flatteringly incoherent answer.

Evina released her crotch to rub one side of his ribs. Nate shook himself and blinked.

“Condom,” he said.

Evina shook her head. “You don’t need one with me. Wolves can’t get tigers pregnant, and neither of us could be diseased.”

His eyes flared again. “I haven’t ridden bareback in forever.”

This amused her. “No, not since yesterday in my hidey-hole.”

“Oh my God, I—” He stopped and peered sharply down at her. “I guess there were a few things I wasn’t paying enough attention to.”

“Nothing wrong with getting lost in the moment.” She dragged her index finger down the centerline of his wedge-shaped chest, loving the sweat she found on her path to the root of him.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his lean face softening as she gripped his shaft and pulled upward.

“Come inside me, Nate,” she purred. “Pay attention to me now.”

He didn’t lower himself, he raised her, lifting her by the hips with her thighs splayed around him as he kneeled up. Her head remained on his pillows, her arms flung out for balance.

An important logistical problem soon became apparent. His erection stuck up at too high an angle to enter her.

“Tip my cock down,” he said. “Put the head in you.”

She placed that part of him where they both wanted it. She licked her lips at the wonderful pressure against her gate, realizing as she did that her canines had sharpened. They both breathed quick and shallow, one ball of heat joining them. Nate gripped her thighs more firmly and pulled her down his length.

When he rocked his hips to squeeze in the last millimeter, she could have sworn he filled her up to her throat.

With a groan that should have been recorded, he started to lean forward.

“Don’t,” she said, which opened his bliss-shut eyes. “Don’t shift over me. I like my view of you right there. I want to watch you take me until you come.”

Sweat glistened on his pectorals, his ragged breathing moving his tight six pack. “Evina . . .”

She walked her fingers up his yummy front as far as she could reach. “Please. You’re so pretty.”

In case that wasn’t convincing, she dug her bare heels harder into the muscles of his butt cheeks. He liked that, shadows of pleasure flickering though his face. She thought of games they might play later, but later wasn’t now.

“You’re killing me,” he said to her.

Evina bit her lower lip and smiled. “Can you blame me for wanting to see you unravel?”

The question drew an odd expression into his eyes. “All right,” he said with unexpected determination. “I’m going to show you the real deal. I’m going to fuck you exactly the way I want and let you watch it all.”

“Bring it on,” she dared.

He took her at her word. His first thrust was hard and deep. His second didn’t begin until he’d finished enjoying it. He set a rhythm that suited him—though Evina would have had to be dead for it not to pleasure her. He was steady and focused and each succeeding upward jump in his arousal was on display for her. He closed his eyes first, grimacing with pleasure as her sheath tightened on his shaft. Next came a huffing noise she couldn’t have liked better if he’d been trying to excite her. Around the time the veins in his biceps started popping out from his skin, his pumping sped up dramatically.

She couldn’t help crying out for that; the repeated thumping of her pussy felt too incredible. Her mewls got him grunting, his thumbs stretching inward to work the upper folds of her labia against her engorged clit.

Even then he was thinking, rubbing the slick swollen flesh together just enough to keep her with him but not so much that she couldn’t avoid coming. She wanted to come, of course, her claws punching holes through his nice silk sheets. Her body arched with her efforts to hold back her climax.

“Shit,” he said, his eyes opening briefly to watch her. He pumped faster and panted. “I want to move over you. I want to fuck you under me.”

His instincts drove him to desire that, the old male urge to dominate a female very strong among weres. Blotches of pre-orgasmic color were appearing on his chest. Tendons joined the veins in standing out on his neck.

“Come . . . like this,” she pleaded, so close she could barely get it out. “Empty yourself in me and . . . next time, you can take me doggy style.”

He snarled, driving his cock into her so hard she thought her words must have shoved him over the edge. Then he drove in the same way again, the concussion inside her pussy impossible to resist. Her head tried to arch back as she climaxed, her eyes wanting to screw shut at the sweet whole-body-tightening contraction. She kept them open and got her chance to watch Nate utterly let go.

His lips pulled back as he shouted, his upper and lower canines driven all the way out by lust. Heat shot into her with his final thrust, more and more, and then at last his body relaxed.

He pulled from her, his cock wet and rosy and not quite softened. Evina’s bottom rested on his hairy thighs. Her legs didn’t immediately want to uncramp; they’d been squeezed around him so urgently. He kneaded them, working his magic fingers down into the muscles. He looked at her sex, which was very exposed to him. She sensed he could have watched it longer, shining and plumped from what he’d done to it. Instead, his gaze lifted to her face.

She’d never seen a man as gorgeous as he was then. His eyes gleamed like stars within his dark lashes.

“Can you get up?” he asked, slightly hoarse from his climactic bellow. “Are you steady enough to turn around for me?”

Evina’s eyes widened. He smiled at the reaction, the expression transforming his features. If angels could be devilish, that’s how he looked to her.

“Can’t tigers have sex more than once in quick succession?” he asked.

“Sure but—”

“So can wolves,” he said simply.

He helped her up onto her knees and turned her, arranging her in the ever-popular presenting position. Evina’s inner tigress let out an approving purr, evidently convinced her appropriate master was taking charge of her. Unnerved but tightening once again with arousal, Evina wrapped both hands around Nate’s headboard.

Her arms were straight to brace her, her hips tilted upward to let him in. Nate folded himself around her and slid back into her heat with a happy sigh. He didn’t wait to begin thrusting. His hands gripped the headboard outside of hers, his now very hard erection swiftly picking up speed in her. It seemed ridiculous, but his shaft felt even thicker than before.

“Oh yeah,” he praised, his face nuzzling her hair aside from her neck. “That flips my switches good.”

He remembered what she’d said about wanting his hands on her. He took one from the headboard to run caresses along her body’s front. Her breasts were fondled, her nipples pinched, her belly stroked by his warm broad palm. His low moans assured her he reveled in touching her. Truth be told, his hands weren’t tools enough for him. Bringing his mouth into play, he kissed her shoulders and licked her nape. When his lengthened teeth dragged over that vulnerable skin, a sexual quiver ran down to her tailbone.

“Can I bite you?” he whispered against her vertebrae.

Tigers didn’t experience bite-bonding like she’d heard wolves did. They weren’t tied to the moon that way. Still, this was an intimate request. Sexual biting tapped into deep instincts. Any male who did it was hoping to stake a claim. Any female who let him was saying she surrendered.

Evina hadn’t done that since she and Paul parted ways.

She reached back to bury her fingers in Nate’s dark waterfall of hair. She meant to tell him maybe another time, to soften her refusal with the caress.

She didn’t get a chance to explain. Nate interpreted the touch as her urging him onward. With a groan that seemed to come from his marrow, he widened his jaw and bit.

Heat flashed through Evina’s body as the points of his teeth took hold, hormones she had no control over surging into her bloodstream. The effect was a hell of a lot stronger than she remembered it being with Paul. She would have panicked, except the sensations felt amazing. The pain of her skin being pierced was nothing. This was about being trapped by a male and being taken care of at the same time. She was safe, cherished. She began coming and couldn’t stop, hot crashing waves of pleasure that started deep in her groin and rolled out strongly in every direction.

Nate made a sound like something had hurt him. She hoped she wasn’t accidentally being rough. As if to prove she wasn’t, he drew back and rammed into her again, even deeper than before. He ground his pelvis into her ass, holding there like he never intended to pull out. The pressure in her pussy increased impossibly. He made the sound again and shot into her.

This time, he really flooded her.

She didn’t know how long his climax lasted, his being difficult to separate from hers. When her knees gave way, he followed her to the mattress, his hand cupped around her pubis to keep himself tight in her.

She didn’t mind, despite not knowing him all that well. His weight couldn’t bother her, and the continued snuggling was surprisingly pleasant.

He let go of the skin he’d gripped at her nape, licking it gently to encourage it to heal. Evina doubted it had bled much. He’d been careful even in extremis.

“Mm,” she said, reaching back to pet his hair weakly.

“Mm,” he answered, shifting his chest slightly to one side. “That was amazing.”

Evina laughed quietly, amused by his phrasing but sensing he meant it. “That’s what all the skirt-chasers say.”

“Nuh,” he said, too drowsy to get the whole nuh-uh out. “You rocked my world, chica.”

Strangely touched, Evina smiled to herself and slept.

Chapter Six

NATE woke when his lengthy R&B playlist ran out of tunes. He was sprawled atop Evina, who seemed unbothered by his weight. She neither stirred nor grumbled when he pushed up, the easy rise and fall of her breathing proving he hadn’t smothered her.

Nate watched that for a moment, oddly lulled by the slow rhythm. Her incredible waist-length curls lay across her face, which was turned to the side. That didn’t bother her either, but perhaps—as was the case for housecats—she liked sleeping under layers. Nate drew the sheaf of curls gently behind her, baring the softness of her profile. Did she really have two children? She looked like a child herself. Her cheeks were rosy, her nose too kittenish not to smile at. He smoothed one hand lightly down her back, her skin like velvet under his fingertips. God, her bare ass was gorgeous, round and lush and tempting enough to bite.

He stopped himself in the middle of leaning down.

What the hell was going on with him?

Nate didn’t let women sleep over. He fed them, he fucked them, and then he ushered them as charmingly as possible out the door. If a repeat encounter so much as hinted at leaving her toothbrush here, she was history. He didn’t think of women as possessions. To him, they were entertaining loans.

Evina looked so right snuggled in his bed he wanted to keep her there forever.

Alarmed, he dragged one hand through his tangled hair. He needed a shower and a stiff whiskey. Okay, maybe not the whiskey. Under the surface sheen of anxiety, his body was seriously relaxed.

That second time, when he’d taken her from behind, his bulbus gland had activated. Located low down on the underside of werewolf penises, the organ was a vestige of their canine halves, meant to improve the chances of conception. When werewolves hooked up with a likely genetic mate, it swelled at orgasm, tightening their fit within their partners. Because the bulbus was nerve-rich, it could produce killer orgasms. Nate’s scalp had just about peeled off when he’d exploded in Evina.

The reaction didn’t make sense to him. Evina was a tiger: by definition inappropriate to mate. Of all Resurrection’s races, only faeries could interbreed with anyone they chose. Nate had only had his bulbus swell twice before, and each time for wolf partners. On those occasions, he’d found the phenomenon mildly uncomfortable. With Evina, the ecstasy had been breathtaking.

To his dismay, he saw that as he sat there pondering, he’d laid his hand on her hip and was rubbing it with his thumb. That too was making him feel good.

Shower, he ordered, drawing back the caress.

He needed time alone to sort this out.

~

Evina roused to the murmur of a television with its sound on low. The flicker of the screen led her across the open loft, whose lights were otherwise turned off.

Unsure whether she was welcome to wander around naked, she’d wrapped the slightly ripped silk sheet around her, toga-style. Nate sat in the living room, watching a large flat screen from a very sculptural low white couch. Thanks to her inner cat night’s vision, Evina had no trouble seeing him. Nate’s hair was damp, and he’d pulled on a pair of navy silk boxer shorts. They’d have been laughably Casanova-ish on anyone but him. As it was, she noted once again how tight and sexy his body was.

He glanced up as she padded over. “The WQSN spot was on. I’ll play it again for you.”

She sat, and he used the remote to rewind for her. The spot was simple enough. The sketch of the child was shown, along with a tip line number. The newscaster asked if anyone had information about the boy, explaining that the police believed he might have gone missing between May and August of that year. The timeframe seemed right to her. She turned to Nate and found him biting his thumbnail.

In a man as self-assured as he was, the nervous gesture was a big deal.

“Nate,” she said, “did you get into trouble over this with your boss?”

He grimaced, then caught himself and shrugged. “It’ll blow over.”

“Well, forgive me for noticing, but that Grand Canyon-size furrow between your eyebrows is contradicting you.”

He hopped up from the sofa before she could touch his arm. “I can handle it.”

She looked at him. His body language was as troubled as her daughter Abby’s when she couldn’t find a way to protect her twin from a slight.

“It’s not a problem,” Nate insisted.

His tone didn’t convince her. Would his alpha throw him out for going behind his back? Some lead shifters were too rigid to tolerate defiance.

“Do you have family besides your pack?” she asked. Her voice was too sympathetic. She knew that from the way he drew his pride closer to himself.

“I’ve been a lone wolf before,” he said dryly.

Evina knew she ought to shut up. She rubbed her knees through the sheet, trying to get herself to do just that. Then she caught sight of the time on Nate’s Elfnet cable box.

“Crap!” She jumped up in horror. “It’s nearly 5 a.m. You recorded last night’s news. Oh my God, I have to get home.” She smacked her head in annoyance. “Milk. Rafi drank it all yesterday. I was supposed to buy some before breakfast.”

“I have milk,” Nate said soothingly. “Nearly a whole gallon. Why don’t you shower and get dressed?”

She needed to wash up. Both her children had sharp little cat noses, and Nate’s scent clung too strongly to her to pass muster. She wasn’t ready to answer questions about him—not even her own, if it came down to it.

“Go,” he said, shooing her.

“I’ll pay you for the milk,” she promised. “I’m afraid my son is a bottomless pit for it.”

His eyes went soft, his own troubles forgotten in solving hers. “It’s a gift, Evina. A small one. You don’t even need to thank me.”

~

He might not need her thanks, but Evina couldn’t forget Nate’s kindness. She’d seen him bristle at her attempt to poke into his problems, and still he’d been sweet to her. Twice, she caught herself stroking his plastic milk container instead of pouring it. That was completely stupid. He’d given her some milk, not volunteered to help feed her litter from now until adulthood.

Sometimes having a primitive half was a pain in the ass.

“Mommy?” Rafi said from his seat at the kitchen table, where he and his sister were shoveling in their favorite Faerie-O’s cereal.

To her relief, he’d been sleeping in his boy form when she came in to wake him up. She hated chivvying him to change first thing in the morning. For one thing, it took forever. For another, the fact that she had to so often worried her. How was her little boy going to grow up happy and socialized if he felt more kinship with his tiger than the world of mostly one-formed people?

“Yes, sweetie?” she asked, hoping none of that sounded in her voice.

“If you had faerie blood in you, would Daddy have married you?”

Unprepared for this, Evina barely stopped her coffee from spurting out her nose. She stood in front of the sink with her back to it. This, she’d learned, was the best position from which to goose her sometimes wandery children through breakfast. When she recovered her breath, she spoke.

“Why do you ask that?”

Rafiq’s face was thinner than his sister’s, his eyes the same big round pools of blue. Though both had her dark curly hair, those azure eyes came from Paul. Right then, Rafi’s were round and curious. “Grandma said Liane cast a spell on him. That’s what faeries do, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes,” Evina said carefully, “but we don’t know Liane did. I expect your father just fell in love with her.”

“Grandma called her the B-word,” Abby added helpfully.

“Grandma has her opinions. I hope you know you shouldn’t repeat them.”

“Ever?” Abby asked, which Evina suspected was a trick question.

“Not if you think someone’s feelings will be hurt. Even Grandma wouldn’t call Liane the B-word to her face.”

Abby looked like she wasn’t convinced of this, possibly proving what a sharp tack she was. “When I grow up. I’m going to get some faerie blood in me. Then I can marry if I want to. Or change mean people into toads.”

Abby’s practical turn of mind was hard to argue with. Evina wondered where to begin explaining that she’d have to be born part fae—and that this wasn’t always a blessing. Liane was beautiful, it was true, but because of her heritage, her and Paul’s mixed-race child was facing challenges.

A knock on the kitchen side door saved her from searching for the words.

“Daddy!” Abby and Rafiq chorused. Evina supposed his arrival explained the twins’ choice of breakfast topics. Little felines especially had access to information that sometimes seemed psychic. To them, the coincidence was nothing to be startled by. They ran to hug their father as he stepped in.

Paul gave them the growls and tickles they both adored, his playful side part of what had made her fall for him.

“I didn’t know you were coming by,” she said when the chaos had subsided.

Evina’s ex was a big tiger. His smile and his bright blue eyes were his best features, though he wasn’t unhandsome. He had Rafi tucked under one wrestler’s arm, while Abby rode his big shoulders. He was so tall Abby’s mop of black curls brushed the ceiling.

“I thought I’d take them to school,” he said. “Plus it seemed like I ought to talk to you.”

His choice of words joined a whiff of belligerence to put her on full alert. “It seemed you ought to,” she repeated.

Paul set his jaw, trying as usual to be more alpha than he was. “Liam called me.”

Liam must have given him and earful about the wolf who’d come sniffing around the station house.

“He had no business calling you. No more than you have lecturing me.”

“I used to run that station.”

“Used to, Paul. And never without me to back you up.”

“Mommy!” Abby complained as a brickish color washed up her mother’s ex-boyfriend’s face.

“You’re in the wrong,” Evina said quietly.

She didn’t use her dominance on him. Though her will packed more watts than his, it didn’t seem right to do that in front of their children. The resentment in Paul’s expression said he knew she could force him to back down.

“They’re my cubs too,” he blustered. “You shouldn’t be doing . . . unnatural things around them.”

Rafi squirmed out of his father’s hold so he could look at her wide-eyed. “What unnatural things, Mommy?”

Hell, Evina thought, unable to lie to him. “Mommy made a friend who’s a wolf. He’s a police detective and very responsible, but some people don’t think cats and dogs should be friends.”

“I like puppies,” Rafi offered, which made her laugh. She ruffled his mop of curls, cut to match his sister’s, then reached up to pat Abby’s cheek.

“I like puppies too,” she warned her ex darkly.

~

Nate, Carmine, and Dana their dispatcher had nearly a hundred tip line calls to sort through when they arrived at work. Carmine’s experience came in handy for deciding who was or wasn’t worth calling back. Since every recording had to be listened to regardless, screening the crazies from the maybes ate up the whole morning.

After that, Carmine insisted lunch was a must. Though Nate was itchy to get going, he had to admit filling his stomach helped him get through the afternoon.

They were on their tenth follow-up visit when it looked as if their luck—which had sucked so far—might be changing. They’d come to an older and poorer section of the city, to an address in a goblin warren. Buildings in Goblinville, as the projects were colloquially known, appeared bombed out but were perfectly sound inside. The goblins who clustered together in them simply altered the original human apartments to suit their own aesthetic.

Dank and crumbly was the prevailing theme.

The rate of crime in the area made Nate thankful they’d signed out a department vehicle. Goblins didn’t have as much spellcraft as elves or fae, but the average do-not-steal charm wouldn’t deter them. Nate’s Goblinati would have been especially enticing, having been assembled in a goblin-run factory. The goblin lower classes, whose neighborhood this was, sometimes resented the owners of the goods their miniscule upper strata profited from selling to.

“Jeesh,” Carmine said, shaking his head as he stepped heavily from the car. His huge work boots crunched a soda can that lay in the sidewalk’s weedy strip of grass. “Why do people live like this?”

“They feel at home here. Everyone has their comfort zone.”

Nate’s attitude wasn’t universal. Every so often, some supposed do-gooder group started a campaign to have goblins deported back to Faerie. The efforts invariably died on the vine. Goblins were too useful as cheap labor in too many businesses. Despite their occasional propensity for theft, they never went on strike, and they weren’t usually violent. If they wanted to live in squalor, lots of folks decided that was the immigrants’ business.

“There’s Building B.” Carmine pointed out a marginally less gloomy building among the depressing huddle of dark brick.

They picked their way to it through more trash and knee-high weeds. Just in case, they kept their hands on their weapons and all senses on alert. Glittering eyes watched them silently from windows, causing their hackles to crawl a bit. They ducked through a vestibule that had been purposefully lowered. Few goblins were more than four feet tall. High ceilings, so they claimed, made them feel oppressed. Low ones certainly made policing them uncomfortable for the cops.

Forced to crouch but resigned, they took the creaky lobby elevator to Unit 1204. The graffiti that embellished it was in a language neither of them spoke.

They announced themselves and, when requested, pressed their gold shields to the low peephole.

The door was opened by a female goblin whose skin was a surprisingly beautiful shade of red. Lower class goblins were mostly gray.

“You’re Hephaesta Erg?” Nate asked, wanting to be sure. “You called in a tip about a child last night?”

The goblin inclined her hairless and pointy head. “I am and I did. Please come in if you wish to speak.”

Nate and Carmine entered, relieved to discover the goblin’s ceilings reverted to normal height. The interior wasn’t dirty, though it did give off an impression of shadowy disarray. All the hand-built wooden furniture was child-sized. Necessarily not invited to sit, they stood.

For a moment, the goblin simply stared at them, wringing her long red hands in front of her bony chest. She wore clothes, which her kind didn’t always do. In her crocheted cardigan and white-collared dress, she reminded Nate of a very small lunch lady.

“Tell me,” she said, her large amber eyes pleading. “Did you find a body?”

It was at this point that Nate’s interest pricked. Maybe this stop wasn’t another waste of time. “Did you recognize the child in the picture on WQSN?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “His name is Joel Martin. I used to be his nanny.”

“You used to be,” Carmine said without making it a challenge.

She nodded emphatically. “The Martins didn’t have a lot of money, and they both worked. They had to hire goblin childcare or none at all. Look.” She pointed to a wall of pictures in mismatched frames. Silver duct tape affixed them at odd angles to the chipped paint. “There I am rocking Joel’s cradle. He was a sweet baby. No trouble to anyone.” She covered her mouth to hold back a little sob. “Joel was always laughing. The silliest things could make him giggle.”

Nate didn’t miss her use of the past tense. Wanting to see her face when he asked his next question, he went down on one knee in front of her. “Mrs. Erg,” he said, taking her shoulder as if she were made of glass. “Why do you think Joel is dead?”

“They didn’t appreciate him!” she blurted, tears spilling from her snake-pupil eyes. “They were always taking him to specialists, trying to get him fixed.”

“The Martins, you mean.”

“Yes. I’d hear them arguing about where they’d get the money to try again. Once, Mr. Martin said he didn’t know how much longer he could bear the shame. Joel was a good boy! They were lucky to have him!”

She wiped her tear-streaked face, mumbling a thank you when Carmine handed her a Kleenex. To the squad’s frequent amusement, his wife stuck a packet of them in his pocket each morning.

Nate waited for Mrs. Erg to dry up enough to speak. “What were the Martins ashamed of?”

“Joel couldn’t change,” she said, waving the hand that held the tissue. “As if any sensible parent wants a child who turns into an animal. No offense,” she added, belatedly remembering to whom she was speaking.

Carmine let out a quiet snort, but Nate was too intent to take offense. “Mrs. Erg, what sort of shifters were the Martins?”

“Foxes,” she said as if it ought to be obvious. “Werefox children change very young.”

Nate rose and rubbed one finger across his mouth. Mrs. Erg’s windows were blocked by parchment shades, but he stared at them anyway. Everything she said jibed with Evina’s vision. It wasn’t proof, but it was getting there.

“When did you leave the Martins’ employ?” Carmine asked, holding the picture she’d pointed out earlier.

“Two months ago.” She drew her slender shoulders back stiffly. “Mrs. Martin called me one morning. No explanation. She just said they didn’t need me anymore. I went back secretly to check on Joel. I was worried about him. Mrs. Martin wasn’t so good with him.”

“And?” Carmine prompted, because she’d flattened her lips and stopped.

“And he wasn’t there! The neighbor’s goblin maid told me they’d said Joel had gone to stay with cousins. Who sends a one-year-old away from his family?”

Carmine patted the picture of her and Joel. “If you thought something bad had happened, why didn’t you go to the police?”

“Me?” The goblin’s open mouth exposed her square white teeth and long tongue. “And give them the chance to accuse me of harming Joel myself? I don’t think so!” She shut her jaw again with a snap, reminding Nate why goblins were at risk of such suspicions. Once upon a time, they’d been known to make meals of children around Joel’s age.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mrs. Erg accused, wagging two of her six red fingers. “Those were the bad days, when we lived in the Old Country.” She tossed her head angrily. “I’d like to see you werewolves account for every bite your ancestors gulped.”

Nate admired her spirit, but that didn’t mean he’d take her word on faith. “Sometimes people backslide,” he said softly.

“It was ritual,” she huffed. “My favorite food is spaghetti with meatballs.”

Her arms were crossed, her gaze nearly shooting sparks. Nate was still going to check her background, but right then he relented.

“Thank you,” he said. “We’ll get back to you if we have more questions.”

The anger fell away from her manner. From the movement of her fingers, Nate was guessing she wanted to clutch his arm. “What about Joel? You never said what happened to him.”

“We’re not sure. We think . . . If we’re able to confirm Joel was the child in the picture, chances are it wouldn’t be inappropriate for you to say a prayer for his soul’s passing.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Erg in a little voice, her citrine eyes welling up again. Her hand pressed her thin-lipped mouth. “Thank you for telling me.”

~

Nate and Carmine left the claustrophobic building without speaking. Once free of its confines, both rolled cricks from their necks and shoulders. The gloomy atmosphere of the courtyard seemed like Palm Beach right then.

Because the bland department car didn’t require Nate’s expertise, Carmine was driving. “What do you think?” he asked after sliding behind the wheel. “Do you buy her story?”

Nate closed his door with a solid thunk. “We’ll check it out. First, though, I think we’d better make the acquaintance of Joel’s parents.”

~

Little Jersey was, by Nate’s guesstimate, a ten-minute bus ride from Goblinville, easy enough for a nanny to take every day. The borderline suburban area reminded him of Evina’s neighborhood. Ugly modern construction alternated with tired old, little of Resurrection’s downtown charm having extended out this far. There were more trees and grass here, but Nate didn’t see the point.

Then again, he was a city boy.

The Martins lived in a square brick apartment complex. Since they’d crossed into the dinner hour, cooking smells suffused the hallways, none especially appealing.

Carmine looked at Nate when they reached the Martins’ door. His bushy brows went up in question.

“You take lead,” Nate said, realizing what Carmine was asking. “Unless they give you reason not to, do your nice guy thing. I want to watch their reactions.”

Nate stood aside with his weapon drawn while Carmine gave the plain brown door a thumping triple knock. “RPD. We need to speak to the Martins.”

A male opened the door, presumably Mr. Martin. He was medium height and narrow, with ginger hair and a thin mustache. Nate thought his watery blue eyes weren’t as pretty as the goblin’s, strange though those had been. He seemed nervous to have cops on his threshold.

Nate tucked his gun away. Martin’s vibe was weasely but not aggressive.

“What’s this about?” Joel’s father asked, his gaze darting between them.

Carmine showed his ID. “Police business, Mr. Martin. We need to speak to you and your wife.”

His pale eyes grew shiftier. “We’re about to sit down to dinner.”

“This won’t take long.” Carmine pulled one of his trademark moves, giving the ball of Roger Martin’s shoulder a friendly squeeze even as he stepped past him. Martin gaped at his presumption, but wasn’t bold enough to protest. Amused, Nate followed Carmine into the living room.

A cheap hotel painting of a blurry forest hung above a dull brown couch. The seating wasn’t in any way improved by a row of beige pillows. The lamps on the small end tables came from a low-end department store, as did the knockoff Oriental rug. A wedding picture of the Martins hung opposite the couch. Ironically, their decorations were less homey than Mrs. Erg’s. Nate saw no photos of Joel, nor any sign he’d once lived here.

That was telling. Whatever had happened to their son, they weren’t making a show of remembering him.

Mrs. Martin came into the room. She looked more like a mouse than a fox, her clothes too old for her slim thirty-something body. Her unstyled hair was a lackluster brown. “What’s going on?” she asked her husband.

“It’s the police,” he said, his manner striving for natural and failing utterly. “They want to ask us a few questions.”

“We were wondering what happened to Joel,” Carmine said gently.

Mrs. Martin’s hands tightened on the napkin she was carrying. “Joel is staying with his cousins. We thought it would be good if he had relatives his own age to play with.”

“Could you give us an address?” Carmine asked even more softly, pegging her as the weaker link. “We’d really like to check that he’s fine.”

“I . . . I think I might have mislaid it.” Mrs. Martins’ eyes were white-rimmed with panic. Carmine lifted his hands like a priest about to give a blessing.

“You know that’s not true,” he said in a tone so compassionate, so comforting it would have calmed a rabbit in the thick of a chase. “Joel isn’t with his cousins at all.”

“I think you need to leave,” Mr. Martin summoned the spine to say. He was too late. Two fat tears were already rolling down his wife’s gaunt cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, completely unraveling. “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed. I just was at my wit’s end!”

The truth as the Martins understood it came out between defensive pleas for understanding and tears of self-pity. Carmine exhausted his supply of Kleenex before they had the whole story.

Overcome with shame at having sired a flawed offspring, and unable to afford more dead-end cures, the Martins turned to a lawyer they’d heard could arrange “special” adoptions. In return for a then welcome sum of cash, they were promised their son would be placed not with a family in Resurrection, but in a loving home beyond its borders. To mundanes, their non-shifting son would seem normal. Raised Outside, he’d think he was normal too. He’d forget the place he’d been born existed and, as a result, would never be able to track down his birthparents.

“They showed us the adopters’ file,” Mrs. Martin claimed passionately. She leaned forward on the couch, one of the pillows clutched to her belly. Her husband sat beside her and nodded at all she said. “We read their letters. They really wanted a child. We know the way we gave him up was illegal, but surely Joel will be happier with them.”

Nate didn’t know how to respond to that. Carmine didn’t either. He looked at Nate helplessly.

“Mrs. Martin,” Nate said, his throat tight enough that his words came out rough around the edges. “We’ll need the name of the lawyer and anyone else you met at the adoption agency.”

“I’ll get it.” Mrs. Martin hopped up, eager to redress her wrongdoing now that it had been exposed. “I wrote everything in my datebook.”

When it came to wrongdoing, Mr. Martin was more resistant to remorse than his spouse. He waited until his wife left the room, then spoke in a low worried voice. “They don’t want to return the boy, do they?”

Nate’s answer was more heartfelt than he expected. “Mr. Martin,” he said, “you should be so lucky.”

~

The subsequent takedown was pulse pounding in its execution and oddly anticlimactic afterward. More or less hiding his surprise that Nate and Carmine had obtained warrant-worthy affidavits, Adam convinced a judge to issue one that night. Then he called Special Tactics to assist them with the arrests.

The Martins were taken into protective custody, mostly so they wouldn’t have a chance to give the lawyer a head’s up—had they been so inclined. With them under wraps, a force that included Adam’s squad, plus Johnny Lupone’s Special Tactics unit quietly surrounded the adoption agency at 9:30 the next morning. The Wings of Love Placement Agency did business from an unremarkable storefront in a strip mall. Considering the amount of man- and weapon-power they’d brought, the only real suspense was how many fish they’d catch.

As it happened, Adam chose his timing well. They netted the lawyer the Martins had used, his partner, two paralegals, and one office manager. Tony had the presence of mind to paw through their file room before it was boxed up as evidence. This led them to the trio of masked doctors Evina had seen in her vision. They turned out to be dentists who worked in the same strip mall two stores down. They’d gone out for breakfast and had missed the RPD’s mostly stealth entry.

When they spotted the half dozen police vehicles circled around their associates’ door, naturally they tried to run. This gave Nate, Carmine, and Johnny the satisfaction of chasing and subduing them personally.

Carmine looked slow, but he could haul ass when he wanted to.

Nate’s sole complaint was that none of their catches were talking.

Now Adam and he stood shoulder to shoulder behind the two-way glass that overlooked the largest of the precinct’s interrogation rooms. They’d separated everyone they arrested, to prevent them from strategizing tales. The leftovers were down in Holding, enjoying the station’s cells. The Wings of Love head lawyer sat alone at the table in the room they observed. He was a smarmy lion shifter who came off as too stupid to be a mastermind. That he hadn’t demanded representation Nate understood; he probably thought he could represent himself. That none of his co-conspirators had asked for counsel was bothering him.

“They’ll crack,” Adam assured him, bumping Nate’s arm with his elbow. “And if they don’t, the evidence in those files Tony found is damning. These guys are aren’t going to walk.”

The files went back a disturbing eighteen months, during which no less than two dozen shifter children had been “placed” in new homes. The Special Crimes department was at work notifying the birthparents, none of whom seemed to realize the offspring they’d given up weren’t perfectly safe and sound. They’d all gone to the agency voluntarily, having heard about it through an amorphous grapevine they couldn’t yet pin down. The only definite link between the parents, aside from being non-wolf shifters, was that their children all suffered from a defect that prevented them from changing.

Their eagerness to let them go reminded Nate of stories of Outsiders who abandoned unwanted infants because they weren’t boys. The shifter children had been healthy apart from their one flaw. They simply weren’t the progeny their parents had dreamed of.

Their behavior sickened Nate.

He watched the lion lawyer check his Blancpain watch and click his tongue in irritation, as if he were a simple white collar shit being made late for an appointment. Did he even care that these kids he was preying on were cousins to his own kind?

“$80,000 per child,” Nate said, the amount the agency’s books had recorded as their facilitation fee.

Adam grunted beside him. “Could have been ten times that much once they reached the end buyers.”

“You know those babies were being cut up for parts.”

Other entries in the files had made that horribly clear.

“I know,” Adam said.

“We have to find the distributors.”

“We will. Even if we don’t squeeze it out of these bastards, there are only so many people with the balls to sell supplies for flesh rituals. Convictions for that carry mandatory death sentences.”

“They should send them to hell dimensions,” Nate growled. “Preferably ones where they can be killed repeatedly.”

“We’ll get them. It might take some old-fashioned detective work, but between us and Special Crimes, we’ll get them all.”

Nate turned toward him, suddenly grateful his shoulders weren’t the only ones carrying this. “Thank you for letting me run with this. And for backing up me and Carmine when we needed it.”

Adam dragged his hand uncomfortably down his mouth. “I’m not sure that’s necessary. It’s thanks to you and your instincts that we cut the head off this snake.”

Unease spread through Nate at his alpha’s words. Did Adam really think they’d caught this scheme’s leader? Didn’t he find it strange these mooks weren’t tripping over themselves to inform on one another and cut a deal? At the least, the paralegals and the office manager should have been squealing their fool heads off. Maybe that happening was a matter of time.

And maybe fear of the real snake was keeping them silent.

He drew breath to speak but thought better of it. It was good to have Adam back on his side, to not be wondering how uncomfortable life would be if he pushed his boss past the breaking point. Nate would wait and see what happened with their suspects. Then, if he had to, he’d go to the mat again.

“It’s not over,” he burst out in spite of that very sound reasoning.

Adam’s black eyebrows shot up above his soft green eyes. “That’s what your gut is telling you?”

“Yes,” Nate felt he had to admit.

He braced for an explosion, but Adam’s only response was a weary sigh.

Chapter Seven

THE squad’s traditional victory barbecue for a big arrest was held on Adam and Ari’s roof. Everyone but Nate was in a festive mood. Carmine and his wife were demonstrating a salsa for Ari and Adam, who weren’t having much luck imitating the steps. Tony rocked baby Kelsey, fast asleep in his arms. Ethan, the former baby of the pack, tore through the partygoers with a pair of barbecue tongs he’d stolen from his father.

“I’m the king of the grill!” he proclaimed in a mock-adult growl.

Rick probably saved the next batch of ribs from burning by snatching the boy off his feet mid-run.

Nate slanted his bottle of faerie stout to his lips, wondering if he’d ever feel like himself again.

Maybe his keel would have been even if Evina had been there. He’d considered inviting her. He’d called her station, wanting to let her know they’d made arrests. Whoever answered coolly told him that she was at a fire. He hadn’t left a message, but worry for her safety had nagged at him ever since. Grimacing, he took another swallow of strong beer. Maybe he ought to worry for himself. Thinking about Evina as if she was or could be part of his life was unlikely to lead anywhere useful.

“You’re quiet,” said a rumbling voice behind his left shoulder.

Grant the gargoyle had flapped down to his reinforced roost on the edge of Adam’s roof a quarter hour ago. If gargoyles ate, Nate had never seen one do it. Though indifferent to ribs and beer, Grant seemed to enjoy watching the others enjoy themselves. Most gargoyles pretended they only spoke Pidgin English, but Grant was a rebel among his kind. The size of a minibus, he had a goblin’s head, a lion’s body, and the wings of a bat. He was fur and flesh, but when he fell motionless he could pass for a statue carved out of stone.

Nate glanced at him. The only exceptions to his grayness were his great goblin eyes, which Nate noted were a brighter yellow than Mrs. Erg’s. That the mind behind them was highly perceptive, he had reason to know.

“I’m just tired,” he said, looking away again.

“Hm.” Grant resettled his batwings with a warm stir of air. “You must have worked harder than Carmine. He seems quite energetic now.”

Nate knew Grant was poking fun at him. Rather than laugh, the words I’m afraid I’m in love popped into his head. He shook himself. That had to be the stout talking.

“You know a lot about magic, right?” he asked.

“Most gargoyles do,” Grant said.

“What sort of spell would a person do with the body . . . or parts of the body of a shifter child who couldn’t change?”

Like most gargoyles, who considered themselves the protectors of Resurrection, Grant was fascinated by the police. Despite his familiarity with the things they faced, Nate’s question widened his eyes. “You mean children who can’t change because of a genetic flaw?”

“Yes.”

Grant mulled this over. “Shifters who can’t change are rare. The gene for were-ism is usually dominant. Even mixed bloods express it. Traditional wisdom holds that those who can’t change still possess the magic. It’s simply locked within their cells.”

“Why is that important?”

“It’s important because if it’s unlocked, their flesh contains more magic than ordinary weres. Gargoyles use communal mind power to enact big spells, but others employ objects. Practitioners who tap the power of . . . material such as that could gain the ability to change form themselves. The bones of non-shifting wereanimals are known—though not widely, for obvious reasons—to heal otherwise incurable diseases. A human sorcerer might want to add wattage to a spell, without paying for it with his or her personal life force. If a magic worker didn’t care about morals, those kind of ingredients would be priceless.”

“How priceless?”

“This is hearsay, you understand. No one familiar with gargoyles would let us catch direct wind of this. They know we’d inform on them at the drop of a hat.”

“But?”

Grant’s claws clicked on his concrete platform, as if he had fingers to drum. “I’ve heard of non-shifting were flesh going for as high as half a million dollars for a few ounces.”

Nate barely had breath to whistle. “That’s a freaking lot of cash.”

“Yes, it is. Is that what the case you just closed involved?”

Closed was stretching it, in Nate’s opinion. He tried to multiply half a million by two dozen and who knew how many cut-up bits. Where was all that money going? Maybe more importantly, what was whoever was collecting it hoping to do with it? For some people, money was an end in itself. For others, it was a lever that could move worlds.

Grant nudged Nate’s leg with his gray lion’s paw. Too big to pat Nate’s back without knocking him over, he was doing the next best thing. “You should be proud. These crimes are terrible, but at least you and your pack put a stop to them.”

Nate never could decide how young or old Grant was. He often seemed wise, but he had an earnestness about him that made it hard to judge. The longing in his voice when he said your pack caused Nate to feel an unexpected kinship. By not hiding his intelligence from Adam and the others, he’d set himself apart from his own people. Nate wondered if finding a slightly awkward place among a bunch of cops was worth giving up all that.

He put his hand on Grant’s surprisingly warm foreleg, the buzz of the gargoyle’s magic palpable through his fur. “You’re a good friend,” he said. “The pack is lucky you chose to live near us.”

“Hear-hear,” Ari said, salsaing to them for the tail end of this. Nate noticed her footwork was better without Adam to partner her. “I came to see if you two needed anything.”

“We’re well,” Grant said. “Or I am. Perhaps Nate would like to dance with you.”

Ari winked at Nate. “I don’t think so. Nate knows how to ask a woman to dance himself.”

She hopped up to sit on Grant’s platform, parking her little butt between his giant paws. Settled, she blew a two-finger whistle to Tony. “Bring Kelsey over,” she said, because he was dancing around with her dozing on his shoulder. “Grant hasn’t met her yet.”

Ari and Grant had always struck Nate as having a real friendship, maybe more than Grant did with anyone in the pack. Sometimes Nate suspected Ari knew things about the gargoyle the others didn’t. If she did, her offer startled him all the same.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” he said, shifting uncomfortably over her. “Your daughter is very small.”

“I’ll hold her, silly.” Ari accepted the blinking bundle from Tony. “There you are,” she cooed to her slowly waking daughter. “Time to meet your Uncle Grant.”

Kelsey blew a spit bubble while Grant looked stunned. Nate guessed the gargoyle hadn’t realized Ari thought of him in those terms. With a caution that was amusing, Uncle Grant craned over Ari’s head to look down at the wriggling girl. Kelsey was too young to know how fortunate she was. Not only would she never be given up, she’d never lack for protectors who’d lay down their lives for her—including Grant, he was sure. Smiling at the gargoyle’s air of wonder, Nate put his hand on Ari’s shoulder.

“I’m taking off,” he said when she looked up. “Thanks for the great party.”

“You’re sure? It’s early.”

“I’m sure,” he said. “I’ve got beauty sleep to catch up on.”

He only had two blocks to cover between Adam’s house and his. The night was misty but pleasant in temperature. As the grocer chained and locked his shop’s accordion-style gate, his German shepherd woofed. The sound of someone’s TV trailed out an open window, canned laughter mixing with the real deal from Adam’s roof. Nate shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. His fingers bumped his car keys.

Damn, he thought as a longing to see Evina seized his muscles.

The curse didn’t stop him from striding to his building’s underground garage.

~

The EMT who was bandaging the bullet hole in Evina’s bicep was a weretiger, a friend, and a single mother like herself. Familiar with—and understanding of—Evina’s aversion to emergency rooms, Freda had agreed to patch her up in her loft office at the fire station. With luck, she’d be healed by morning. The twins wouldn’t have to know their mommy had been hurt.

“You owe me drinks,” Freda said, snapping her first aid bag shut. “We’ll pool babysitters and make it a girls night out.”

“Don’t call it that,” Evina pleaded, gingerly probing her gauze-wrapped arm. “My mother will want to come.”

“I love drinking with your mother,” Freda declared. “She’s so handy when it comes to snagging the man-candy.”

The sound of a low male growl down in the garage bay drew Freda to the office’s big window. “Talk about man-candy,” the EMT murmured.

Heat pricked the back of Evina’s neck, a flush she couldn’t fight climbing up her face. Freda was a fun friend and a free spirit. She knew all Evina’s tigers, quite a few of them intimately. From her tone, Evina surmised the man-candy was someone new to her.

Evina didn’t need three guesses. Her body was already telling her who it was.

Sure enough, when she went to look, Nate was at the back entrance. Nights were getting cooler. Over slim black jeans, Nate wore a snazzy fitted leather jacket with lapels, the same he’d loaned to her outside the factory. Mist surrounded him like a halo, but he was no angel. From his shiny ponytail to his Varvatos boots, he was an advertisement for how devilish bad boys could be. Tonight, Liam wasn’t his challenger. Her third man Jonah—his temper short from being stuck here holding the fort while his alpha and pridemates had battled danger—was barring Nate’s path into the fire house.

It probably didn’t help his control that his alpha was currently injured.

All Nate did in response to Jonah’s growl was lift his groomed eyebrows.

“I have business with your boss,” he said.

Jonah’s growl lowered and drew out, the animal sound seeming to issue from his chest. Real tigers made that noise before they attacked.

“Wait,” Freda said when Evina moved forward to intervene.

“I’m Evina’s friend,” Nate said, cool as a cat himself. “You need to step aside for me.”

Jonah wasn’t in the mood for that. His fireman’s arm, which was half again the size of Nate’s, crooked, bunched, and delivered an uppercut straight to Nate’s breadbasket.

At least, his fist would have landed there if Nate hadn’t grabbed his wrist before it connected. Nate’s entire body spun, the motion tight and controlled. He used Jonah’s weight against him, one designer boot sweeping his feet out from under while the momentum of his upper body twisted Jonah’s arm to an awkward angle behind his back. When the smooth-as-a-dance move finished—in milliseconds, it seemed to her—Jonah had been forced to his knees, his face dripping sweat from the pain of his captured arm. Because the firefighter was too proud to cry out, Evina had no trouble hearing what Nate leaned down to say.

“Evina is your alpha, tiger. It’s not your place to question who she wants to see.”

“Wow,” Freda said with a little purr. “When you’re done tapping that, can I have a go at him?”

Though it was a joke, or at any rate friendly, Evina had to fight back her own growl. Good Lord. Was she really thinking of Nate as if he belonged to her?

Preferring not to answer that, Evina shoved through her office door.

Nate must have sensed she was around already. From what she understood, werewolf noses were sharper than tigers’. Even so, her appearance seemed to take him by surprise. He looked up and his head jerked back, his hold on Jonah slipping.

“Oh my God,” he said, “you’ve been shot!”

Jonah was halfway to taking advantage of his lapse in attention when the genuine concern in Nate’s voice sank in. Stopping so close to attacking forced him to catch his balance on his freed arm.

“I’m okay,” Evina said, coming quickly down the stairs. “It was a through-and-through.”

“A through-and-through!” He had her by the forearms, his fingers rubbing gently as he clasped her above the wrists. “Didn’t you change? Why are you still bleeding?”

“Of course I did. The bullet was electrum-plated.”

Electrum plating was a relatively inexpensive method for rendering ammo more effective against beings like shifters. Injuries caused by it were slower to heal. Evina had been feeling grateful the shooter had been too cheap to buy a full metal jacket. Nate, apparently, didn’t see it that way.

“Oh my God,” he repeated, his voice spiking high enough to crack.

Sitting on the floor now, Jonah began to laugh. “Man,” he said, “I’d feel sorry for you if you hadn’t nearly broke my arm. Wolf-boy’s got cat-scratch fever bad.”

“Jesus,” Evina swore, horrified at him.

“Sorry, boss.” Jonah creaked to his feet, where he rubbed his elbow and winced. “Shit. I got to ice this thing.”

Freda had by this time finished sauntering down the open stairs, looking sexier in her dark blue EMT shirt and trousers than any woman had a right to. She smiled knowingly at Evina. “Since you seem to be in good hands, I’ll be going. Nice meeting you, Mr. Dark and Lethal.”

Nate wrenched his worried gaze from Evina’s. “Uh,” he said to Freda, not his usual style at all.

Freda laughed. “No driving until tomorrow,” she tossed over her shoulder to Evina. Grumpily, Evina noticed her walk exhibited more wiggle than usual.

Nate mostly seemed confused as he watched her go.

“She’s a friend,” Evina sighed. “And, yes, she’s available.”

“What?” Nate turned back to her. Evina didn’t feel like repeating her answer. His eyes cleared after a moment of gazing into hers. “She said no driving. Do you need a ride home?”

“Actually . . . I could use a ride to St. Aelfryd’s. I want to check in on Christophe.”

Nate’s warm hands were wrapped lightly around hers. How long had he been holding them, and why did they feel so good? “I can drive you.”

“I might be a little while. If you drop me, I can take a cab home from there.”

“I don’t have plans. I’ll browse the gift shop while you visit.”

His irises were starting to glow a little, turning their coffee color gold. Evina’s breathing deepened against her will. Watching him fight had done a number on her libido. She couldn’t forget how quick he’d been . . . The way he moved to take his bigger opponent down . . . She knew her pupils were expanding with arousal, because the room was suddenly brighter. Nate wet his fascinating lips, his nostrils flaring like hers were.

“How did you get shot?” he asked, his voice a caress trailing down her spine.

“Some teenager got caught holding up a convenience store. Decided the best way to evade the police was to set the Quik-Mart on fire. He’d trapped himself in the back by the time we got there.”

“Did you get him out?”

“We got everyone out. Owner. Customers. Even a pet lizard.” Remembering, Evina broke into a grin.

“A good day then. Despite being shot.”

Oh, Nate got it, maybe as much as her fellow firefighters. Her body grew even warmer, positively aching to let that powerful cock of his shove in it. She could practically feel him thumping her body into the nearest wall.

“Nate,” she said, soft as smoke.

Her tone was too bed-friendly, considering where they were. Realizing this, Nate cleared his throat and stepped back. He released her hands grudgingly. “I’ll bring the car around. You—” He paused to look at her, more fire kindling in his eyes. “Just grab whatever you want to bring with you.”

Right that moment, the main thing she wanted to grab was him.

~

The gift shop at St. Aelfryd’s Hospital held the usual flowers, magazines, and baby-strength amulets for invoking deities. Heavy-duty magic was left to the elfin and human healers who ran the place. Nate bought an imported copy of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. The Outsider publication was popular here. Then, unaccountably restless, he followed his nose to find Evina in Christophe’s room.

He wasn’t trying to rush her. He simply didn’t have the patience to sit in a waiting room.

When he caught up to her, Evina sat by Christophe’s bed, the steel and vinyl chair crowded close to him. Her senior man was yet another huge tiger—older than the others Nate had met, though that was hard to tell. The cat was in bad shape. The parts of him that weren’t wrapped up like a mummy looked red and raw. Clearly, he wasn’t healing the way a shifter should. Evina had told Nate the doctors were trying to adjust his pain medication. Too much and he’d be too doped up to change. Too little and his physical distress would interfere. Right then, they seemed to have underdone it. Christophe was hurting enough that he shook with a fine tremor.

Nate totally understood why Evina was crooning to him and gently stroking the unburned bend of his right arm. Her touch wasn’t as soothing as it should have been. Christophe’s brow remained puckered, and Nate got the impression worry was partly responsible. He and Evina looked around when Nate stopped at the doorway.

“Hey, man,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt.” He held up the Sports Illustrated. “Thought you might like a magazine.”

In spite of his discomfort, a naughty smile stretched Christophe’s face. When he spoke, his voice was smoke-roughened. “You must be the dirty dog the other guys were griping about.”

“Ah.” Nate scratched the side of his mouth. “I suppose tigers gossip as much as wolves.”

“Sometimes we gossip, and sometimes we stick our noses in the air like we’re above noticing.”

Nate laughed, but then Christophe coughed, the movement evidently painful inside and out. Nate rushed forward to the other side of the bed to help Evina steady him.

“Fuck,” Christophe gasped when the fit was over. “This seriously sucks.”

“Just hang in there,” Evina said. “The doctors say your body is bound to shift before much longer. Your tiger half wouldn’t let lasting harm come to you.”

“From your mouth . . . to the ear of the Tiger Queen,” Christophe said, almost too tired to speak.

A nurse came in: a young gold elf with a serious face. “You should probably let him rest now. The doctors are making the rounds with sleep charms.”

Nate and Evina helped Christophe sink back into the pillows. Seeing how weak he was, an odd sensation ran through Nate, an almost physical tug to take action. Though this man was a stranger, it was as if something inside Nate needed to assist him. He let go of Christophe’s arm with an effort.

Evina bent to her beta, pressing her lips to a safe spot on his temple. “Rest up, partner. We miss you at the station.”

“Not . . . as much as I miss . . . being there.” Christophe looked at Nate, his gaze measuring. Careful not to set off another cough, he pulled in a steadying breath. “Don’t be a dog to her.”

Nate could have turned the warning into a joke. Instead, he met Christophe’s stare head on. “I won’t. Not if there’s any way to avoid it.”

Christophe nodded and closed his eyes. The nurse shooed them out into the hall. The shutting of the door left them together in silence. Evina looked at her feet with her hands shoved into her pockets, mute testimony to her worry over her crewmember’s condition. It was an alpha’s nature to want to aid her people, the attribute as much instinct as basic shifter decency. Nate knew she couldn’t like feeling helpless. He gave her shoulder a little rub.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll get you home.”

He drove her to her townhouse, a touch of that same helplessness chafing him. Evina was a good person. How could it be wrong for him to admire her the way he did?

He pulled into a parking spot by the curb, tempted to shut off his Goblinati’s engine but wondering if this was presumptuous.

He turned to her on his seat as she turned to him. It seemed a sign that he ought to speak. He cupped her ear with one hand, his thumb stroking a path around it as if he’d been touching her all his life. Evina smiled at him. His cock tightened and grew hot. The mist was thicker in her neighborhood, like a fog machine had been turned on.

“How’s the arm?” he asked, noting she’d stopped poking it to test.

“I think it’s healed now. I hate having the kids see me hurt.”

Nate hadn’t liked it much himself. “Do you get hurt often?”

“Firemen aren’t hotshots,” she said with a smile to suggest maybe she thought cops were. “Despite being shifters, we always try to work safe. We use our protective gear, and we keep up with the latest techniques. What happened to me today . . . what happened to Christophe . . . is unusual.”

He nodded, unsettled by his own relief at her reassurance. Part of him wished she’d never be in the thick of things. She was a gifted astral projector. She could have stuck to that. But no alpha could command respect from her crew if she didn’t share the same dangers. That’s how it worked with wolves anyway. Adam didn’t molder behind a desk.

“So,” Evina said, starting to reach for her door handle. He couldn’t just let her go, not with what he was feeling.

“I want to come in,” he said.

“My mother’s watching the twins.”

“I like your mother.”

Evina laughed, kneeling up and leaning forward to drop a kiss on his nose. “Wait here. I’ll check if the twins are in bed and report back to you.”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting them as well.”

He hadn’t planned to say that. Evina’s eyebrows rose. He set his jaw and didn’t retract the statement, though he wasn’t certain what he’d meant to imply. Evina didn’t seem prepared to ask. She cocked her head but didn’t press him to explain.

“Wait,” she repeated, swinging out of the car. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

~

Evina tried to recall if a man had stirred Nate’s mix of perplexity and attraction in her before. Everyone liked her mother, so that claim was no surprise. Him wanting to meet her kids, however, knocked her off balance. He’d be good with kids, she was sure. He could charm anyone, young or old. She just wouldn’t have expected her grocery store Romeo to be into the idea.

Of course, she also wouldn’t have predicted she’d go warm and gooey at his interest. Whatever he’d meant, that couldn’t be smart.

The house was in a state inside. Rita was great about babysitting, but she drew the line at tidying up. Evina found her perusing Magical Antiques Monthly in the den, probably imagining what she’d like to buy for her shop. Seeming tired, Rita took the back way out, across the development’s shared stretch of grass to her own townhome. Quickly disposing of her bandage, Evina stuck her head in each twin’s room. They were sound asleep. Abby sprawled in her bed face down, while Rafi curled up in his cat roost—in boy form, thank goodness.

Because there was too much mess to tackle without a backhoe, Evina shook her head, sighed, and went to wave for Nate to come in. She consoled herself that at least the lights were off.

“Sorry about the tornado,” she said as he looked around.

“These things happen,” he said diplomatically.

Evina had to chuckle.

“What?” he asked, following her up the narrow toy-cluttered stairs.

“Well, ‘these things’ don’t happen at your place, do they?”

“A little mess is homey,” he said, his night vision sharp enough to spare him tripping over Elf Barbie’s Dream Garage.

Evina snorted under her breath.

“It is,” he insisted.

They’d reached her bedroom on the second floor. Elf Barbie’s pink convertible was parked outside the door, but thankfully hadn’t been driven in. Evina’s room was no worse off than when she’d left it this morning. Bracing herself, she shut the door behind Nate and turned on a bedside light.

“Sorry I didn’t make the—”

Nate silenced her apology with a kiss.

It wasn’t just any kiss, but a deceptively lazy demonstration of his ability to seduce. Slow and sweet, the kiss melted her from the inside out. His arms came around her as she leaned into and up to him, his warm palms cruising from her shoulder blades to the lower curve of her butt. She obeyed their urging to rock her hips closer. His cock was rising beneath his jeans, its solidity increasing by the second. As they kissed, he rubbed the ridge in a slow rotation against her stomach. The heat that had been simmering inside her grew heavy.

When he drew his head back, her eyes didn’t want to open.

“I take it tonight’s activities need to stay quiet?”

“What? Oh. Yes. My kids . . . I don’t want them to be confused.”

“I understand.” His fingers drew figure eights on her bottom, making her want to push back to them. His eyes were slumberous, his gaze focused on her lips. His black expression-concealing lashes inspired tremors in her sex. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Bemused, she pointed it out.

He disappeared inside, the sound of him doing personal things in there weirdly appealing. This wasn’t a fling-your-partner-down-and-take-her encounter. This was almost domestic. Evina sat on her rumpled bed—whose memory foam thankfully didn’t squeak—and took off her shoes. Nate washed his hands, then rummaged for who knew what in her medicine cabinet. Extra toothbrush, she realized as she heard him brushing his pearly whites.

Evina peeled off her top and caught herself smiling. She tried to erase the expression, but her lips curved again. She unzipped her jeans, stood, and pushed them down her legs. Her underwear was nothing special, just what she’d grabbed from her everyday drawer when she got up. Deciding it wasn’t worth leaving on, she’d tossed it toward the closet when Nate prowled back into the bedroom.

He was bare-ass naked, his skin toasty brown all over, his erection shooting high and thick from the hair at his groin. Bouncing a bit with his strides, his glans shone with excitement.

“Yum,” she said, the first word that came to mind.

He grinned slyly, remaining where he was so she could circle him and admire. He didn’t seem to know what shyness was. His glutes tensed for her, the layered muscles of his back and rear truly a sight to see. Reluctantly, Evina came back around to his front.

“Should I feel objectified?” he teased.

She balanced her fingertips on the light furring of his chest, enjoying the feel of his life pulsing under his skin. Their thighs were inches apart. “Maybe.”

“Do you have something in mind you’d like to do to me?”

The playful way he put this seemed to give her permission for anything. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes searched hers, his amusement deepening. “More than you might expect.”

That delighted her so much she had to bite her lip.

Both times they’d been together he’d overwhelmed her. She’d enjoyed that surprisingly much. This time, though, she wanted to show him her alpha tigress claws.

Grinning, she went down on her stomach to wriggle under her queen size bed.

“Not that I’m complaining about the view,” Nate said from above her, probably because her butt stuck out, “but I don’t think I can fit with you under there.”

“Ha ha.” She emerged, breathless and dusty, with her prize.

Nate’s brows drew together when he got a look at it. “Extra sheets? Shouldn’t we save those for after we’ve dirtied the ones you’ve got?”

“You forget who I live with. This only looks like linens fresh from the store.” She held out the package. Nate undid the plastic flap.

“Aha,” he said, pulling out the wooden box that was cleverly concealed between pillowcases. He set the box on the bed and opened it carefully.

As the lid came up on its hinge, Evina’s private toys were revealed. Nestled in rich red velvet were a small and extremely quiet vibrator, a dildo, a silver butt plug with an extra curve to the tip, a cock ring, lubricant, and a pair of padded leather cuffs.

To Evina’s pleasure, Nate smiled at the contents. His fingertips stroked the leather cuffs. “I must admit, you’ve taken me by surprise. I wouldn’t have pegged you as being quite this adventurous.”

“Do you object to anything in that box being used on you?”

His gaze shifted from the case to her, the asymmetry of his lower lip making his smile slant even more to the left. “The dildo doesn’t look comfortable.”

“But other than that?”

“No, no objections.” His eyes were twinkling, maybe a bit too amused.

“Will you need a gag to keep from shouting? I can fashion one from a scarf.”

His humor dialed back a notch as he realized she was serious. Evina meant this exchange to have a genuine edge. He appeared intrigued rather than disturbed, which she was happy for. Nate wouldn’t fear a challenge that she could tell.

“I like to talk,” he said, “as you might have noticed, but I do promise I can keep quiet when there’s a need.”

“No matter what?”

A sharper sort of humor narrowed his eyes. “Bring it on, Evina. I’d love to have you pull out your stops for me.”

Her fierce feline grin made him blink, exactly as it was supposed to. She gestured to her headboard, which was framed on either side by a short post and finial. “On the mattress, please,” she said. “On your knees, with one hand on each bedpost. I’d like you to present for me.”

He knew what she meant; she saw that from the subtle erotic shudder that rolled through him. When his hands were where she wanted—not a problem, given how tall he was—she crawled onto the bed and attached his wrists to the posts with the padded cuffs. Nate tugged once to test the restraints, the combination of the leather and his muscles made him seem gladiator-like. Once he’d established her knots would hold, he looked back at her over his beautifully developed shoulder. Something in his eyes excited her very much. He was struggling with this a little, wanting to warn her not to push him too far, but also not wanting to miss out.

“A weretiger could snap those ties,” she informed him. “I assume the same holds true for werewolves.”

“In tiger form, your kind has more strength. In human form, studies show we’re neck and neck.”

His voice was breathy, which sent a thrill zinging to her sex. She pulled the clasp from his ponytail, parting his straight black hair to fall to either of his neck. She stroked the vertebrae she’d bared with the backs of her knuckles. “Do you remember how you bit me here the other night?”

“It’s instinct for male wolves to do that.”

She trailed her hand to his tailbone, loving how his skin shivered. “It’s instinct for male cats too. No male wants his mate to escape when he’s shooting his seed in her.”

“Christ,” Nate said, letting out a brief pant.

Evina smiled and nipped the ball of his shoulder. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to talk in bed. She moved behind him, her knees digging into the unmade covers outside his calves. Because they were there, right in front of her, she wrapped her hands around his butt cheeks and gave them a good squeeze.

Something dripped to the covers that she didn’t think was sweat.

“Has a man ever taken you like this?” she asked. “From behind?”

Nate craned around to her again. “No.” He pleased her by not sounding offended. “That’s not a kink of mine. Is men doing it together something you enjoy thinking about?”

Evina drew her tongue around her upper lip, appreciating the way his gaze followed it. Her hands continued to knead and circle his butt muscles. “I don’t dislike the idea, but I have one problem.”

“Which is?”

“That I’d rather be the man doing the taking, instead of watching it. When you’re a woman, even if you’re alpha, sometimes men treat you as if you aren’t as tough as they are.”

“Physically, you’re not.”

“Perhaps. But toughness has to do with more than the physical.”

“So . . .” Nate wet his own lips. “You want to take me the way a man would.”

She smiled. “I want to do more than to take you. I want you to feel ravished.”

~

Nate didn’t think a woman had ever spoken to him like that. Certainly, none had gotten her results. His cock stiffened beneath him as if it meant to break records for steel-hard rigidity.

“I suppose . . . everyone deserves to feel ravished now and then.”

She laughed as she kissed his back, then retrieved the lube from her box of tricks. She held the tube between the globes of her breasts, warming the gel it contained. Her lack of self-consciousness implied this wasn’t her first ride on the carousel. He thought he didn’t mind that. Considering what she planned to do, probably it was best to be in experienced hands.

Lubricant warmed, she squeezed two lines of gel up her fingers and another down his crack. She rubbed her now slick fingers along that line, stirring subtly pleasurable sensations everywhere she touched. “You can relax. I’ll be careful I don’t hurt you.”

He believed her but tensed when she pushed two fingers into his orifice. This was an intimacy he wasn’t that familiar with. Sensing he needed time to adjust, she left her fingers unmoving inside him. The nerves in his outer reaches tingled enjoyably.

“Can you sink closer to the bed?” she asked.

He could and he did, shifting his knees farther up the bed. Keeping the hand that speared him in place, she moved over him, folding her body around his to blanket him. He’d done this to her, more or less, though he was sure she felt different. Her breasts were warm, their softness flattening against him. With a crooning murmur, she began moving her fingers in and out. He wasn’t prepared for that. Pleasure lashed through his lower body in red-hot waves.

He bit his lip to prevent himself from groaning.

“Good?” she whispered.

He nodded and arched his back, helpless not to invite her to rub deeper. She slid her other hand down his chest, skirting past his penis to palm his balls. Nate sucked in air, his death grip on the bedposts helping to support both of them. She squeezed him gently, testing how much force he liked. Nate ground his teeth together. Hard or soft, everything she did felt amazing to him.

She, however, was a perfectionist.

“I need lube,” she decided after a few trials.

Oh God, was all Nate could think.

Somehow she managed to get the gel on one-handed. When she cupped him again, her hold was slick. She used it to stretch his testicles, the repeated tug and release inspiring increasingly powerful sensations, heightening the ones that built in his back passage. Her hands were hot, her naturally warm temperature rising as she got more into what she was doing. Soon her nipples were burning pebbles against his back—exciting all by themselves. He was glad she wasn’t pulling on his cock. He’d have blasted off in seconds if she’d been doing that.

Of course, part of him thought blasting off right then would have been fine. His cockhead pulsed so sharply it felt like someone was tapping it.

“God,” he hissed between his teeth. “This is making me crazy.”

Evina released his scrotum. “Hold on,” she said. “I’ve got something that will help.”

Her hand came back to push the rubber cock ring down his erection.

“Shit,” he said, because even that stimulation was a tad too good.

“Is it too tight?” she asked. “It’s elf made. It’s supposed to adjust to the wearer’s size.”

He couldn’t speak. The cock ring’s charm had activated, and the rubber was constricting on his root. The resulting pressure was perfect, snug and thick, providing an odd combination of reassurance and frustration. The ring would keep him from ejaculating. He’d stay hard and ready until she decided to let him off the hook.

That knowledge was exciting too.

Her other fingers continued to move, slowly fucking him from behind. It was as if she controlled him from all directions, as if she really were taking charge of him. That she could, that she didn’t hesitate, blew his mind.

“I’m okay,” he gasped, forcing it from his throat. “The ring is . . . doing what it’s supposed to.”

Evina dragged the tip of her tongue between his shoulder blades.

It was a simple enough caress, but it arched his head back with desire. His hands tightened on the two wooden balls they held, the movement reminding him the leather wrist cuffs were there.

To his surprise, they cranked his lust up another notch. This was going to be some climax when it finally won free of him.

“I’ll get the other toy,” she said, easing her fingers out.

Bereft of her digit’s skill, pride was all that kept him from whimpering.

Thankfully, the other toy was the silver butt plug. She lubed it but slid it into him unwarmed. The contrast of his sizzling insides with the cool smooth metal drew a low moan from him. He’d tried anal play before without it turning him on like this. She seemed to be the magic ingredient: her interest in doing this, her understanding of men’s bodies. The plug was thicker and harder than her fingers, stretching him more than they had.

“Now I’m taking you,” she said as she breached him with it. “Now I’m making you mine.”

Her voice was breathless with arousal. The sound nearly pushed him over—never mind the cock ring. He felt the extra curve at the metal phallus’s tip searching out his prostate. Craving that like he wouldn’t have believed, his eyes began to sting with sweat.

“Tell me when I hit it,” she whispered.

She’d bent herself around him again, leaving only enough room between them for her hand to manipulate the toy. Her heart was pounding, her hot skin soft against his. The curve of the butt plug found the spot she was looking for.

The effect was like a gun’s hammer striking sparks. A spasm bulleted from his prostate and up his cock, electric fire licking all the nerves. He couldn’t have stopped the climax to save his life. He gasped, coming without a drop of seed shooting free.

Evina knew what was happening. She kept the tip locked on his joy trigger, rubbing back and forth at shifter speed, her weretiger dexterity allowing her to maintain the pressure on the exact millimeters that lusted after it. He whined in reaction, unable to keep it in.

She liked that, all right.

“Nate,” she breathed, his name a gift coming from her lips. She stretched up, mouthing the back of his neck.

He’d suspected she meant to do this, and yet it shocked. Her incisors lengthened. She bit his nape and held on.

She was taking the man’s position with him.

Switches flipped inside him, primitive reactions he didn’t know he had in him and couldn’t hope to repress. She dominated him, and the pleasure of that swamped him. She felt like his alpha, protecting him, making sure he was happy and satisfied. For once, he experienced no urge to throw off the subordinate mantle. She did this for rather than to him. The only mystery was that surrender could feel like an action and not the lack of one.

But maybe that was because he’d chosen to let her master him.

He muffled his cries on his own shoulder, not wanting her to stop as his body strove to ejaculate. It couldn’t do it. The rapture inside him simply spiraled higher without breaking. Finally, it grew too intense to bear.

“Enough,” he rasped.

Evina released him immediately, her hand coming to a halt behind him. Nate was breathing so hard he lifted her up and down.

“Take off the cock ring,” he commanded. Inexplicably, that felt as natural as her controlling him.

She removed it with trembling hands. His cock felt strange without the constriction: fuller and not as safe.

Then again, he wasn’t in the mood to be safe right then.

“Come under me,” he ordered.

“Do you want me to remove the cuffs?”

His claws had extended and were dug into her bedposts.

“No,” he growled, because he didn’t want them dug into her.

She scooted under him, her curly head on the pillow, her wide and glowing eyes meeting his. She didn’t look afraid but as if she worried she’d gone too far. He wasn’t sure how to tell her she could have pushed him anywhere she liked, and he’d have gone happily. Come to that, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know. He liked her niggle of insecurity. Given how rocked he was, it was only fair.

“Has it happened for you like this before?” he asked gruffly.

She didn’t deny their exchange had been intense, shaking her head tight and quick. “No. I never had the nerve to ask anyone to play like that.”

“Good.” The word resonated with satisfaction. Her hands came up to his chest, kneading him just a bit.

“Nate . . .”

“No,” he said at her cautioning tone. He wanted no reminders they weren’t supposed to be serious. “Let me enjoy being the only one.”

~

He dipped his head to kiss her while she was still startled by his possessive tone. It occurred to her that Nate hadn’t been threatened by her playing dominant, not like her ex used to be. Considering how easily Nate assumed the leading role, this was ironic. She’d have thought about that more, because the idea of being able to be herself with a man seemed sort of important. Nate’s kiss didn’t give her a chance to follow the thread. Those lips of his were addictive: their smooth warm firmness and their agility. His tongue slipped inward—stroking, sucking, luring her to forget everything but him. Her knees drew higher, her thighs contracting to hug his narrow waist. She was wet, and the upward roll of her pelvis pressed the moisture against his skin. He let out a hum of pleasure at feeling it.

He continued to grip the bedposts, the stretch of his arms preventing the weight of his upper torso from sinking onto hers. Taking advantage of the extra access, she ran her hands up and down his front. Because she was so excited, kitty claws lightly raked his lean muscles. This didn’t bother him. His breath came faster, his mouth changing angles to go deeper. Wanting to purr at how good he tasted, Evina wrapped her clawed thumb and finger very carefully around his throbbing cock.

That broke him from the kiss.

“I’ll come this time,” he said.

“I want you to,” she answered.

His face flushed darker, and probably hers did too.

“You have to scoot down so I can enter you.”

She scooted, not letting go of him.

“Just place me,” he said. “I’d like to push in myself.”

She didn’t know why him saying that was a turn-on. Maybe everything he wanted was going to be one for her. She brought his tip to her, squirming as the satiny crest parted her swollen folds. More cream welled up in her, a longing sound breaking in her throat.

“Do you need a gag?” he teased even as his cock jerked and trembled against her. “You really shouldn’t. You’re the one using all the toys.”

She growled at him, though she was amused.

“Ready?” he asked, lifting one dark eyebrow.

“Do it or I will,” she warned.

He smirked and pushed from the hips and, oh, he went into her like a dream. He was just right—his thickness, his length, the little grunt he made when he was in all the way. He might have lost control in the cock ring, but he seemed to have recovered it. She rubbed her hands up his back, groaning with the sheer tactile pleasure of their contact.

“Sh,” he cautioned. “You need to be quieter than that.”

He drew back within her, biting his lip when her muscles tightened around him. The flare of his rim stretched the nerve-laden area near her gate. He forged in again slowly.

Evina’s hands curled into almost-fists on his back. “I’m going to scream if you don’t go faster.”

He laughed as softly as she’d spoken. “I love how wet you are,” he crooned, repeating his pelvis’s wavelike motion. “My dick could drown in that amount of cream.”

Evina crossed her ankles behind him, trying to pull him in harder. “Good thing your dick doesn’t need to breathe.”

This time he laughed silently. “You know what else I love?”

“No,” she said, miffed she wasn’t strong enough to shift his pace.

He dropped his mouth to her ear. “I love that your pussy muscles could crack a nut.”

“I’ll crack your nuts if you’re not careful.”

He nipped her earlobe and stirred a shiver. “That butt plug is still in me. Maybe you should use it to speed me up.”

“Promise it will?”

He kissed her deep and intimate in reply. If that was meant to distract her, it only worked for a few heartbeats. She glided her hand down to grip the ring at the base of the polished toy.

“Shit,” he broke free to gasp when she gently rotated it. A second later, his hips rotated too.

“Like that?”

His eyes flared at her. “You know the answer to that.”

To her relief, he took a tighter grip on the posts and began to sling harder into her. He used good long strokes—steady, strong. They pressed into her at their culmination, his pelvis grinding her clit. That didn’t make her come straight off, but it certainly pulled her closer, obliging her to bite her lip against a nearly uncontrollable urge to groan. His expression grew more determined, though his face went dreamy each time she stroked the toy over his prostate.

“Mmm,” he hummed, changing thrusting angles inside of her.

He hit an unexpected sensitivity in her pussy, some happy net of nerves concentrated in her right wall. Evina gushed, and arched, and suddenly he really went at her. He wasn’t groaning, but he was panting hard.

“Come,” he huffed, his body focused on executing this new stroke. Sweat glittered on his face, the muscles in his outspread arms bulging. His pelvis slammed into her. “Come for me, Evina.”

She knew she was going to. All those delicious feelings were gathering low and heated inside her sex. God, she wanted to go over. Playing with him before had gotten her so worked up. She tightened on him, loving how that made him gasp. His cock jerked inside her, and abruptly he felt fuller, like he’d gained some impossible inch of girth. Hissing, he rubbed the fuller bit harder against her, his shaft continuing to angle to the right. Her orgasm spiked into existence, gone from almost to completely there. With the last of her brainpower, she remembered to rock the butt toy inside of him.

He grunted, his head flung back and his lips pulled into a snarl. His upper and lower canines glinted in the light from the bedside lamp, reminding her how animal men were when they climaxed. She knew the extra stimulation was bringing it out in him. He was powering into her, ejaculating so strongly she felt the heat of it.

The orgasm she’d thought was there suddenly proved it could double.

She started to moan and heard a snap. He’d broken free of one wrist cuff. His palm slapped over her mouth, muffling the sound she couldn’t help making. Her body jerked, the partial restraint exciting her. Her orgasm thundered higher, points of hot sensation marking her tightened nipples, her clit, the arch of her curving feet. Nate must have liked her reaction.

“Unh,” he grunted into her pillow, shooting hard into her again. “Unh.”

Wetness spilled thickly out of her.

Jesus, she thought, the climax finally ebbing for them both. Nate slowly relaxed on top of her. He moved his hand from her mouth.

“Christ,” he sighed, and it was like he’d finished her mental curse.

He snapped the leather ties on the second wrist cuff, demonstrating how voluntary his bondage was all along. His newly freed hand stroked her ribs. “You okay?”

She nodded, breathing too hard to speak. He rolled without warning, pulling her on top of him. She wriggled, testing him out as a mattress. He was certainly warm, and she liked the way his arms circled her. Though he couldn’t quite comb her tangled hair, he did pet it down her back.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured.

“You too,” she mumbled, ear pressed to his heartbeat.

Then, without a second thought for consequences, they sank under together.

Chapter Eight

NATE couldn’t move his feet.

He knew he’d been sleeping—and not in his own bed. Evina lay behind him, her hand flopped lax and warm on his back. Her scent was nice to wake up to, a mixture of peppery and sweet spices. Because of her position, she couldn’t be the weight immobilizing his lower legs.

Knowing he had to face it, Nate opened reluctant eyes.

His heart nearly stopped. Lit by a square of sun from the window, a tiger the size of a German shepherd sat staring solemnly at him.

“Um,” he said, grateful sheets covered them. “Are you Abby or Rafiq?”

The tiger blinked. Within the orange and white and black patterning its face, its eyes were a startling blue, like the crystalline waters of a sheltered Caribbean cove. Nate cleared gravel from his throat.

“I’m Nate,” he ventured. “Perhaps your mom mentioned we were friends.”

The cub yawned at him, displaying teeth and tongue. The reaction seemed relaxed rather than insulting. As if to confirm this, the tiger dropped its furry head to its sphinxlike paws. A smile tugged the corners of Nate’s mouth. Coming up on one elbow, he stretched out an arm carefully to scratch the cat behind one round ear, working his fingers into soft thick fur. Fortunately for those fingers, the tiger didn’t object.

“I think you’re Rafiq,” Nate said. “You feel like a boy to me. I bet your mother would like you to change for breakfast. Not to brag, but I scramble a mean egg.”

A muffled warble issued from the tiger’s throat, more like a bird sound than a cat’s purr. The cub tilted its head for a last good scratch, then pushed to its feet and thudded softly onto the floor.

“Bye,” Nate said as the little tiger paused to glance back. “See you in a bit.”

Perhaps this at last made the tiger shy. Evina’s son streaked off in a sudden bound.

“Mmph,” Evina said, burrowing her face into the pillow. Though she was two-legged, Nate reached to scratch her behind the ear as well. Still drowsing, she hunched her shoulder and smiled.

“Better get up,” he murmured. His mood was oddly elated, considering this wasn’t his usual morning after—alone in his own home. “I promised your son I would make breakfast.”

That bolted her up wide awake. “Rafi was here?”

“Rafi was sitting in his tiger form on the foot of your bed. I’m not sure how long he was there.”

Evina pressed both hands to her mouth.

“We were covered up,” Nate assured her. “And he didn’t seem upset.”

“Crap.”

Nate rubbed her bare shoulder. “He’ll be okay. He must have been curious who was in here with his mother. I don’t think it’s possible to hide everything from kids.”

“No,” she admitted ruefully.

“I’ll make you breakfast too,” he coaxed. “Assuming you have eggs.”

That pulled a small catlike smile from her. “I have eggs and sausage.”

“Well,” he said, “good thing I know what to do with both.”

~

The weather had cleared overnight. The bright cloudless sky matched Nate’s mood perfectly. He sang opera to himself on his drive into work. His Italian sucked, so it was just as well he didn’t have company. Breakfast at Evina’s had gone swimmingly. Every scrap he’d prepared had been eaten, including two rounds of toast. Rafi was quiet but smiled more than once at Nate’s silly jokes. Quicker to relax with a stranger, his more outgoing sister Abby insisted Nate watch her operate the little hydraulic lift for Elf Barbie’s Dream Garage.

When he asked why she didn’t have Tiger Barbie, she primly informed him Tiger Barbies didn’t look any different from human ones. “They only wear stripey clothes,” she said. “Elf Barbies have pointy ears at least, and they come in blue and gold. The toymakers should figure out how to make shifter Barbies change.”

“They could give them tails,” Rafi piped up to say.

His sister considered this. “Yes,” she agreed. “That would be better.”

Privately, Nate found both six-year-olds hilarious.

Once the twins had been walked out to their yellow school bus and kissed before clambering in, Nate told Evina about the arrests they’d made at the bogus adoption agency. She’d been glad to hear the news, but understood why he was concerned. Though she saw some aspects of the case differently, that sat okay with him.

It was funny, since she was alpha, but she never made him feel he wasn’t her absolute equal.

By contrast, the first words out of Adam’s mouth when Nate arrived at work were, “You’re back on the Galina case. No more monkeying around.” Due to the magical removal of evidence linking Ivan the Terrible to the murdered accountant’s corpse, the investigation had stalled out.

“We need to find the girlfriend,” Adam said, his feet stacked on Tony’s desk. He had his hands laced behind his head and his elbows stretched. Because they were powwowing in the squad room and not his office, Adam had commandeered their lowest ranking pack member’s chair. Tony sat backwards in a guest chair, which he didn’t seem to mind. “Supposedly, Ellen Owen is the reason Ivan and Vasili fell out in the first place. Where has she been since we started full-court pressing her new boyfriend?”

“Hiding,” Rick suggested, his pose behind his desk nearly identical to Adam’s. “Waiting for the dust to settle.”

“Sure,” Carmine said. “But where? And why doesn’t she care enough about Vasili to check on him?”

“Too smart?” Rick said. “Maybe she’s not the brainless bimbo she’s been painted.”

Nate was resting his hips on the front of Rick’s desk, which faced Tony’s across five feet of dull brown tile. He had to admit tracking down the girlfriend was an angle worth following.

“I’ll go back to the smoke shop,” he volunteered, then smiled at the blank looks he got. “You know, the store we spotted Vasili coming out of before we dragged him in for questioning? Didn’t surveillance say Ellen Owen’s cousins ran it? Maybe they’ll let something slip about where she is.”

Adam dropped his hands from behind his head. “Convenient that the smoke shop is in the same area as the factory used by those doctors we arrested.”

Nate shrugged. “Doesn’t mean the owners aren’t worth questioning.” He grabbed his leather jacket, prepared to go then and there.

“Take Tony,” Adam said.

“Two cops will put their guard up. Besides which, I don’t need a babysitter. I said I’d go to the smoke shop, and that’s what I’m intending. No hidden agenda.”

Adam met his stare with thinned lips. Nate ordered his body language to remain calm and non-rebellious. Challenging Adam would only make him dig in.

“Fine,” Adam relented. “Take an earpiece and stay in touch through Dana.”

Nate hid his resentment as well as he was able.

~

He took the earpiece. In fact, he wore it all the way to Quince Street.

“I’m here,” he murmured to Dana before pulling out the bud and shoving it in his glove compartment.

That counted as checking in, didn’t it?

He’d stopped at his place after leaving Evina’s so he could dress. As a result, he was now too crisp for the neighborhood. He tugged his tie down, opened his collar, and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

You’re a stockbroker, he told his reflection in the rear view mirror. You’re here on your morning coffee break.

He stashed his police ID behind the visor and got out of the low-slung car. He didn’t like leaving the Goblinati, but it fit who he planned to be. He sent a prayer to St. Michael to look out for it, then did his best yuppie jog across the steep warehouse district street.

One reason he hadn’t wanted Tony around was that he was far more apt than Nate to be pegged as a cop. Today’s strategy depended on being seen as a civilian.

The River Smokes Tobacco Shop was a narrow storefront next to a nondescript factory. No other businesses were nearby, giving it plenty of privacy. The inventory on its shadowy shelves was legal, but maybe not everything it sold. A bell jangled as he entered. Nate didn’t go looking straight for service. Taking his time, he studied the water pipes in the window display. A prickling between his shoulders assured him he was being watched. The hookahs were beautiful, handcrafted with colorful braiding on the hoses. He lifted a smaller double-stemmed example in what looked like real silver. A quick glance at the eyebrow-raising price told him, yes, it was. He held onto it anyway, browsing his way toward the back and the register.

Whatever their actual trade, shop owners tended to warm up to people who bought things.

Judging a few more items would add authenticity; he grabbed a pack of clove cigarettes and an herbal cure for allergies. Shifters rarely suffered from them, but he thought a stockbroker might. That took him to the rear of the store. Behind the slightly grubby counter, with a camera peering over their heads, stood a pair of men so androgynously gorgeous Nate wondered if they were part fae. One clerk had long hair and the other short. Both sets of locks gleamed the pinky-red of a young sunset. Their eyes were a glacial green, their shoulders disproportionately broad for their slender frames. Their matching T-shirts, which bore the River Smokes store logo, seemed cut purposefully to show them off.

Now Nate was really glad Tony wasn’t here. He’d have been drooling, and these two—despite their unimpressive profession and apparent youth—gave off the vibe that they could eat nice guys like Tony for breakfast.

Their close resemblance to photos of Vasili’s girlfriend didn’t escape his notice. Nate set the cigarettes, the herbal cure, and the expensive silver hookah on the counter.

“Nice,” said the longhaired guy. “We don’t sell a lot of these.”

His voice was California surfer lazy, his eyes cool and sharp.

Nate pulled out his electrum ResEx card. “Got a vacay coming up with my girl. We could do with some unwinding.”

“I hear you,” said the longhaired guy.

Nate put one forearm on the counter and rested his weight on it. The cashier was part fae, all right. This close, the air hummed with his magic. “Actually,” Nate said, “I was hoping you might sell me something more under-the-counter, if you know what I mean.”

Nate cast a significant glance toward the security camera. He didn’t see the cashier press any buttons, but the camera’s recording light suddenly flicked off. Possibly he’d worked it telekinetically.

“Damn things,” said Long Hair. “Always cutting out on us.”

“You got cash?” Short Hair asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was the aural equivalent of butterscotch. Nate didn’t bat leftie, but it made him think of hot seduction poured over cool ice cream.

“I do,” he said, straightening.

Short Hair pinned him with his green gaze. Like most RPD detectives, Nate was charmed twice a year to prevent him from being identified as a wolf, which too frequently equaled “cop” to criminals. He prayed Short Hair didn’t have enough fae magic to see through it.

“We’ve got faerie dust-laced Marlboros,” Short Hair said.

“Mm,” Nate responded unsurely, because this might have been a test. Dealing faerie dust carried a hefty mandatory sentence. Most Vice detectives wouldn’t have been able to resist grabbing for that collar. “That’s a bit more oomph than I’m looking for. My girl’s kind of a lightweight. I was hoping you had some of the Outsider weed I’ve heard about. You know, that Royal whatsis from Canada.”

“That’s special order,” Short Hair said, “but we’ve got a decent strain on hand from Virginia.”

He quoted a price that Nate accepted, which led to Short Hair disappearing into the back.

“You know,” Nate said, leaning on the counter again, “you guys look really familiar. My cousin used to go to high school with this serious babe, Ellen Something. Man, you should hear him talk about her still.”

Long Hair shot him a sharp look Nate pretended not to see. “Where did your cousin go to school?’

“St. Dunstan’s in Little Jersey.” Nate knew this was the school Ellen Owen had attended from reading up on her in the Galina file. “I doubt she noticed my cousin. He was a big ole nerd. He’s a chemist at Killburn-Waring these days. Heads some development whatsis or other.”

Long Hair was as aware as Nate how useful a highly placed employee at a pharmaceuticals firm could be—especially to a pair of enterprising drug dealers.

“One of my cousins is named Ellen,” Long Hair admitted, “though I couldn’t swear it’s the same girl.”

“Really.” Nate pretended to be amazed. Short Hair came out with a small neatly wrapped package. Nate sniffed it appreciatively. If the smell could be trusted, the weed was more than decent. Surer than ever he’d chosen the right approach, he counted out the requested bills and passed them over. “I don’t suppose your cousin would want to meet mine for coffee. Tad would so owe me if I hooked that up for him.”

“I couldn’t answer for her,” Long Hair said.

“I understand.” Nate pulled a seemingly genuine brokerage card from his wallet, one he kept for this sort of situation. The front listed a generic-sounding firm and a fake personal line. On the back, he scribbled Tad Montoya and another of the numbers the RPD kept to shore up aliases. “Maybe you could give her Tad’s number, in case she’s feeling curious. He looks better than he did in high school, and he’s a steady guy. Maybe they’d hit it off if they actually talked.”

Long Hair took the card without promising anything. His perfect face could have been carved from ivory.

“Well, okay,” Nate said, putting on a hint of embarrassment. “Thanks for, uh, selling me the stuff.”

He took his brown paper bag and left, unsure he’d hooked his fish but hopeful. He’d give it a day or two. See if they decided their cousin Ellen could spin some pharmaceutical gold out of seducing the fictional Tad. If they did, it’d pull her out of hiding. If it didn’t, the buy Nate had made was sufficient cause to get the pair in for questioning. They probably wouldn’t nark on family, but that too would be worth a shot.

He looked up at the blue sky outside. Those two for certain weren’t amateurs, what with the faerie dust and the special order ganja. The average street dealer couldn’t supply either. He wondered if they worked for Ivan the Terrible. Galina business included drugs, but part fae could be as elitist as purebloods, and they wouldn’t like answering to shifters. He decided he’d mull this over with Adam—as a peace offering.

A contrary impulse led his feet around the corner to the old blanket factory. Seeing the building in daylight did it no favors. The crime scene tape remained on the door but was badly sagging, as sad and abandoned as the rest of the place. Was it really coincidence these seemingly disparate cases had ties to the same two-block stretch? The River Smokes dealers were part fae. Did they know who’d spun the stay-away spell around the metal room? Could the same individual have erased the trace from the accountant’s corpse? Carmine and the uniforms had probably questioned the smoke shop owners during their canvas, but they’d have gone as cops. Two sharp tacks like Long Hair and Short would be careful not to send up red flags.

Nate shook his head and forced himself to walk away. For the time being, until something happened or he knew more, he’d have to drop the mystery.

Something happened sooner than he expected. He’d been in his car maybe fifteen minutes when it occurred to him to pop his earpiece back in. The moment he did, Dana their dispatcher started yelling at him.

Needless to say, her calling him a dickhead wasn’t SOP.

“Jesus, Dana,” he said. “What crawled up your butt?”

“Get your ass to 122 on Park. Ivan the Terrible is dead.”

“Dead,” he repeated, his brain refusing to compute this. He couldn’t be dead. They were still trying to put him in jail.

“That isn’t all,” Dana told him, her upset causing her to be voluble. “Vasili slipped his minders at the safe house. He’s unaccounted for at the time of his brother’s death.”

“They didn’t notice him leaving?”

“Apparently not. What’s more, Vasili claims to have found the body.”

“Crap,” Nate said. When this got out, the RPD would look as competent as gnats. “Adam’s on scene, I take it.”

“On scene and wondering where the eff you are. You were supposed to leave that earpiece on.”

Nate decided it wasn’t worth pretending it had malfunctioned.

“I said prayers for you,” Dana reproached. “I asked three saints and an angel to steer you back onto the right path.”

Dana was notoriously superstitious, her tech-laden cubicle at the precinct scrawled so thickly with good luck spells that the squad sometimes wondered how the various powers she was importuning knew who she was talking to.

“Thank you,” Nate said, because right then wasn’t the time to tease. “I’m sure the praying helped.”

~

Ivan’s mansion at 122 Park Avenue looked like an embassy and was probably even more secure. Located across from Resurrection’s sprawling version of Central Park, the residence hearkened back to the days of carriages and top hats. A wrought iron fence girded its sliver-wide front grounds, safeguarding it from curious tourists. They frequently mistook it for a museum.

At the moment, tourists weren’t getting anywhere near the place. Half the RPD’s black and whites appeared to be surrounding it. Nate squeaked his vehicle into a clear spot and ID’d himself to the uniforms. Though he was in no rush to collect his dressing down, he sprinted up the carpeted double stairway in the front hall. To judge by the thickest clustering of police personnel, the second floor was where the action was.

A roped crystal chandelier hung from the foyer dome. It cast an undiscriminating glitter onto the many living and the single dead.

Adam gave Nate a cool look when he saw him, not bothering to wave him over. Rick and Carmine had corralled Vasili at the end of the long landing, away from his brother’s body, which the Crime Scene guys were still swarmed around. Nate approached carefully, stopping when he’d reached Adam’s side at the edge of activity. The evidence techs were muttering to each other in a way that didn’t sound happy. Nate had a sinking feeling this corpse had received the same magical cleaning as the accountant’s.

Nate pulled his focus together to study it.

Ordinary dirt and gore were clinging to Ivan fine. He’d been a big wolf: tall, muscular, with a peppering of gray in his beard and at his temples. He was just starting to get jowls and deeper wrinkling around his eyes. He looked the seventy years he was—seventy for a wolf anyway. Rumor had it that early in his career, Ivan had strung up one of his lieutenants on four meat hooks. Because the man was a were, his dangling body had torn and healed, torn and healed until he confessed . . . to whatever Ivan wanted, Nate assumed. In death, the crime family’s leader looked strangely ordinary—tired perhaps, but not capable of infamous cruelty.

Vasili was twenty years his brother’s junior. Their parents had died young, so Ivan had filled the role of father and sibling. An old-fashioned dagger with a gold-encrusted hilt appeared to have severed both relationships. Thrust between Ivan’s ribs and into his heart, the murder weapon looked like it had been twisted for good measure, allowing more blood to gush from the wound than would have escaped otherwise.

The blade must have been electrum. Ivan’s wound showed no sign of having started healing before he died.

“That’s a helluva personal way to go,” Nate observed. “Face to face. Stab and twist. The killer had to be someone close to him.”

Adam grunted grudgingly. “Someone close and someone angry.”

“Not too angry, or there’d be more than one stab wound. We’re looking for someone with strength, aim, and emotional control.” Nate wasn’t sure Vasili qualified—his lack of alibi notwithstanding. Maybe Adam was thinking along the same lines. He glanced at the apparently distraught man Rick and Carmine were restraining. Then he looked back at Nate.

“Where do you want me, boss?” Nate asked.

“I should tell you to interview the staff with Tony.”

“But?”

“But Carmine’s better with domestics, and you have damn sharp eyes. Join me and Rick in the dining room. We’re going to give Vasili a little squeeze.”

Adam collected their weeping suspect from Rick and Carmine, steering him gently but firmly by the elbow. Vasili stopped struggling the moment Adam took him in hand. Though the wolf might not realize it, his brother’s death left him vulnerable to any strong alpha’s influence.

“Ivan’s gone,” he choked out as Adam guided him to sit on one side of the long polished table. He was handsomer than his brother but not as imposing. The tip of the hawk-like nose they’d shared was pink, the rims of his leaf-shaped brown eyes reddened from crying. His grief seemed sincere, but Nate had seen other murderers spout tears after killing relatives.

One thing he hadn’t noticed genuine mourners do was shoot the cuffs of their tailored shirts the minute they sat down.

“Ivan is gone,” Adam agreed. He took the seat next to Vasili. Its tall carved back and deep blue embroidered velvet testified to Ivan’s fondness for pretending he was a duke. When Rick sat on Vasili’s other side, his six-four frame made the grand chair look normal sized. Nate remained by the door as if he were guarding it. In actuality, it was in the perfect spot from which to observe.

“We have to find who did this,” Vasili pleaded, clutching at Adam’s arm. “Ivan was my only blood.”

“We’ll catch the murderer,” Adam said. “First, though, we need to clear up a few inconsistencies.”

Vasili’s expression rippled with annoyance. “I told the others. Those men who were guarding me fell asleep.”

“But why did you leave, Vasili? You knew your brother wanted you dead. Why not stay where you were safe?”

“I was climbing the walls!” he exclaimed. “You know what it’s like for wolves when we’re cooped up. I wanted to get some air.”

If Vasili hoped to help his cause by reminding Adam he was a fellow wolf, he was barking up the wrong tree. Adam thought worse of the Galinas for choosing the path they had. His features hardened, though probably not intentionally.

“Why did you come here?” he asked. “Is the ‘air’ better in Ivan’s house?”

“It’s my house too,” Vasili said. “And I wanted to talk to him. I thought if we spoke face to face, maybe we could reconcile. My brother . . . loved me before all this.”

“Before you stole from him, you mean.”

“That was a misunderstanding!” Vasili’s back was up, his defenses beginning to stiffen against his questioner.

“Where’s Ellen?” Rick asked, smoothly distracting him.

Vasili twisted around to him. “Ellen?”

When he said her name, a different note vibrated through his energy. The change yanked Nate’s wolf’s ears to attention, though it took a moment to identify the younger Galina’s emotion.

Pride, he thought. Winning his brother’s girl was a source of pride to him.

“Ellen doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Vasili said. “I haven’t seen her since you people took me into your supposed protective custody. Ellen is a sweet girl. She’s not cut out to be in the middle of this mess.”

Vasili’s body language indicated some or all of this was a lie. Adam opened his mouth, likely about to press him for the truth. Nate had a feeling this would simply make the wolf clam up.

“Ellen’s fae, isn’t she?” he interrupted from the doorway.

“What?” asked Vasili, seeming to notice him for the first time.

“Ellen Owen has faerie blood.”

Again, irritation flicked like lightning through Vasili’s red-rimmed eyes. “She’s only a sixteenth fae. She doesn’t make a big deal about it. It’s not enough to give her any special magic juice.”

“She’s pretty, though,” Nate said. “I’ve seen pictures. She’s got that glowing skin part fae have. And those green eyes that shine like jewels. Nice hair too. Ordinary people don’t get that shade of red naturally.”

“Sure,” Vasili said, not quite selling his casual shrug. “She’s beautiful. You got a thing for fae?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Nate asked. “They’re Resurrection’s royalty, our very own magical golden boys and girls. A man would do quite a lot to keep a female who was even a teensy bit faerie tucked up safe in his bed.”

Vasili stared at him openmouthed, too dazzled by the pictures Nate was painting to follow his full meaning. Evidently, just thinking about his girlfriend caused his brain to slow down. When it finally caught up, he shook his head like a dog flinging off water. “You think I killed my only brother for my girlfriend? Why on earth would Ellen want me to do that?”

“Maybe she wanted to be a boss’s girlfriend again. Maybe she figured you’d take over with him out of the way.”

“Right.” Vasili was bitterly amused. “I’m going to take over from Ivan.”

The ridiculousness of this suggestion was immediately obvious to everyone. Vasili didn’t have it in him to lead, even with his brother out of the way.

His subordinate’s theory wilting, Adam decided Nate had wandered far enough off script. He pushed up from his tall carved chair. “You mind if I visit your brother’s kitchen? I’m gonna rustle us up some sandwiches.”

“I don’t think I could eat,” Vasili said.

“Sure you can.” Adam dropped his hand to their suspect’s shoulder, his hold visibly heavy. “We’re wolves, right? We’ll think more clearly once we’ve seen to our stomachs.”

Him assuming a paternal pose was no accident, no more than the warning look he shot Nate. Reading its implicit order, Nate followed him from the room.

Adam preceded him into what Nate supposed had been a salon. The furniture was as grandiose as that in the dining room. A huge still life of a dead deer hung over the fireplace’s onyx mantel. Nate thought the painting might be a real Landseer.

In case the testosterone wasn’t thick enough, the walls were painted tobacco brown.

Adam faced Nate with his back to the hearth, crossing his arms as he did. “Tell me you’ve got a decent reason for grabbing control of that interview.”

Nate wasn’t convinced Adam would approve of his reason, but he shared what he’d discovered at the smoke shop. Adam was quiet for half a minute after he’d finished. Nate doubted this was a good sign.

“You bought marijuana from them,” he said at last, his manner icily sardonic, “which you didn’t get on tape, because you decided to leave your fucking earpiece back in your car. The earpiece I told you to wear for your own safety, because it’s not like investigating Russian wolves might get dangerous. Oh, and let’s remember you specifically asked not to have Tony back you up.”

“Uh,” Nate said.

“‘Uh’ isn’t going to cut it, Nate. Given the cockamamie story Vasili is trying to peddle, this is looking increasingly like a coup and not a falling out. What do you want to bet Ivan’s corpse has been charmed to remove evidence? We can’t prosecute Vasili. We can’t shut down the Galina organization. We’ve got nothing to show for our efforts but a dead mobster.

“Basically, this is a cluster fuck. The Police Commissioner already called me twice, threatening to sic the media dogs on me. You had a bird in the hand with Ellen Owen’s cousins. You could have salvaged a scrap of progress from this shit heap, but you fucking let them go.”

By this point, Adam’s chill had turned to fire. Nate set his shoulders into a straighter line. He didn’t see how it was his fault that Vasili’s minders had screwed up—or that the PC was on the warpath. With an effort, he kept himself on topic. “With the information I had at the time, what I did was strategic. And it might still bear fruit.”

“Jesus, Nate.” Nate had been hoping to keep the tone of this reasonable, but Adam shoved his hands through his hair the same as if Nate were an irresponsible idiot. “This isn’t the Wild Wild West, where you’re the only law in town, and you make it up as you go along. You’re supposed to be a part of a team, a team I’m the boss of. You need to run these things by me before you hare off.”

A starch Nate knew he ought to suppress surged into his spine. Sadly, knowing he ought to didn’t mean he could. “I did better on my own than I would have with Tony. Plus, I’d have been in a helluva lot more danger if that damned receiver had been spotted in my ear.”

Adam’s eyes glowed with anger. “Are you trying to make me pull the pin on ousting you from the pack?”

“You do what you have to do,” Nate clipped out. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

They both knew this was too much defiance. “Nate . . .” Adam said, more than a bit of a growl in it.

Nate didn’t know what would have happened next, only that his heart pounded like a jackhammer. A vein ticked in Adam’s temple, like a clock counting down his doom. Carmine stuck his head in the door, sparing him from finding out what that was.

“Boss,” he said. “You really want those sandwiches?”

Adam sighed, letting some of the tension run out of him. “Yes,” he said. “I want Vasili nice and relaxed before we question him again. First, though, send an unmarked unit out to that smoke shop. Actually, make it two. I don’t want the owners sneaking out the back.”

“We’re taking the owners in?”

“We are,” he confirmed. “Nate here made a drug buy from them.”

“Boss—” Nate began.

“Don’t.” Adam cut him off with a chopping motion. “Do not tell me you don’t think this is the right approach.”

Nate clamped his lips together, though this was exactly what he thought. In the end, it didn’t matter whether he stuck to his guns or not. When the unmarkeds pulled up at River Smokes, it wasn’t simply closed; it was shut down, its dubious inventory absent, its glamorous-grungy owners off in the wind somewhere.

This, of course, was too easy to blame on him.

The others seemed to think it was his fault too.

“Kid,” Carmine said, wagging his curly head the moment they were alone. “You need to watch your step.”

If Nate had been a fraction more childish, he’d have said Adam needed to watch his.

Chapter Nine

IN return for the babysitting her mother did, Evina sometimes ran errands for Rita. Today, she was dropping off two of Rita’s business suits at her old dry cleaners. Back when she and Paul had been together, he’d sworn it was the only place in Resurrection that got the starch in his shirts just right. Rita concurred, but Evina had switched cleaners after Paul’s marriage to Liane, because he’d trained his wife to go there too. Running into her beautiful younger replacement on a regular basis was more than Evina was up for.

It’s not cowardice, she assured herself as she pulled into the small shopping center. You see Liane when you have to, and you’re perfectly nice to her.

If Evina preferred to skip the reminder that Liane—and not she—was marrying material, well, even alphas had weak spots.

This afternoon she was spared the trial. The dry cleaner’s had no line, and she finished within minutes. She checked her watch, gauging how much of her break remained. She could drive to the little park near the fire station, maybe sit on a sunny bench and daydream about Nate. She smiled, unable to recall when she’d last done something that frivolous. He’d been so sweet and funny with her kids this morning. She could tell he liked them. He wasn’t putting it on. Just maybe it wouldn’t be the stupidest thing in the world to allow herself to indulge in a fantasy.

Ahead of her, on the shopping mall’s uninspired sidewalk, a man emerged from a Postboxes Unlimited. There were other people around. He didn’t stand out especially. Evina wouldn’t have given him a second glance except that every hair on her arms suddenly stood up.

She didn’t know him, or not that she could tell from behind. He was of average height and build, with short, neatly cut brown hair. His suit was well made but unexceptional. His stride was more confident than average—brisk, she’d say, with a smidgen of impatience. He stepped off the curb toward a new-looking black SUV. She recognized it as a converted Cadillac Escalade, too rich for her blood but very nice. As he turned to open the driver’s door, she caught sight of his profile.

Still, she didn’t know him. He was handsome in a stern sort of way. Then, as if he felt her staring, he twisted to look at her.

The chill that went through her was like nothing she’d ever felt. She knew those eyes. The last time she’d seen them, they’d been above a surgical mask. She thought she hadn’t noticed, but now she wondered how she’d forgot. Their irises were a gray so clear they could have been made of glass.

This was the head doctor from the blanket factory.

Except he couldn’t be. Nate said the trio had been arrested and, due to the seriousness of their crimes, weren’t eligible for bail. Evina looked at the Cadillac owner’s hands. She could have sworn they were the same that had smothered the werefox boy with the small pillow. His fingers were long and bony, their nails buffed to a soft sheen. The RPD must have arrested someone else. Perhaps the scheme had involved more than the three men she saw in her vision. Nate hadn’t asked her to identify them. Neither of them realized she could.

The doctor’s glass-gray eyes narrowed. No doubt he was wondering why she gaped at him.

Go up to him, Evina ordered herself. He doesn’t know who you are. Pretend you’re flirting. Get his name and number the way Rita would.

She couldn’t make her feet unstick from the sidewalk. Her skin was clammy, her muscles rippling with shivers. Her fear triggered her impatience. If he’d been on fire, she’d have chased him across the city until she put him out. The reminder of her training let her take a few steps forward, let her paste what she hoped wasn’t a sickly smile on her face. Just do what your mother would, she urged.

The man’s lips formed words she wasn’t close enough to hear. The movements were too rapid for normal speech—more like a chant, she thought. Her terror increased, freezing her in place.

Crap, she thought, powerless to budge. Was he putting a whammy on her?

He moved, getting into the SUV and slamming the door. He started the engine, swiftly reversing the shiny black vehicle. The windows were tinted so she couldn’t see inside.

Get the license plate, she ordered.

When she tried to, her eyes refused to focus on the numbers. Some power outside her was blurring her vision. Her growl of frustration caused a young woman with a baby stroller to veer away from her. At least her anger broke her paralysis. She dug in her purse for her phone, intending to report to Nate what she’d seen. The number he’d given her rolled to voicemail. She growled again, then left a message for him to call her as soon as he was free. She debated dialing 911, but didn’t know what she’d say.

Nate was the only cop she had a shot at convincing she wasn’t imagining things.

~

Embarrassed, unhappy, and a breath away from driving his fist through the nearest wall, Nate returned to the squad room to go through the Galina file again. He had the place to himself. Adam didn’t come back to yell at him. Tony didn’t rap on his desk to see if he was hungry for take-out. Now that his initial defensive anger had guttered out, Nate felt the pack’s disapproval like a hunch he couldn’t get out of his shoulders. He’d screwed up. Rebelled against the way things were supposed to be. He’d wanted so badly to be the one who was right he hadn’t thought through what he was doing.

Nothing he found in the files helped him make up for that.

He gave up when his eyes got tired of him rubbing them. He drove straight home in his Goblinati. He didn’t stop in a bar or pick up a fifth of scotch. In his current mood, he’d have overdone it, and that wouldn’t help either. He was so deeply into his pity party he didn’t immediately notice Adam’s wife sitting on the floor outside his condo. Ari’s eyes were closed, her head bobbing to the music playing on her ePod. She didn’t look much like a mother in her ripped jeans and gray hoodie. A half-full liquor bottle sat beside her hip: Tullamore Dew, unless he was mistaken—Adam’s special occasion indulgence.

“Ari,” he said, stopping in his tracks in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

She looked up and took out her earbuds. “Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t be too long.” She got up before he could help her. “Come on then. Open the door.”

Bemused, he let them both in and turned on the lights.

“This is for you,” Ari said, gesturing with the bottle as she headed for his kitchen. “You’re helping prevent my darling husband from drinking any more tonight.”

“Adam’s drinking?” That wasn’t usual, not hard drinking anyway. Was his alpha upset about their fight too?

Ari pulled a pair of Irish crystal tumblers from a shelf. She poured Nate two fingers and herself maybe half of one. She sipped hers, squinched her face, and set it back down again. “Ugh. Whiskey is disgusting. I swear I don’t know how you men drink it.”

To prove he could, Nate tossed his back in a single gulp. The ensuing burn rose from his belly into his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked again in an unavoidably alcohol-roughened voice.

Ari covered the hand he’d laid on his counter. “You know what I’m doing. I’m playing peacemaker. Adam doesn’t want to lose you, but you’re triggering his alpha instincts. You’re making it hard for him to be reasonable.”

“Did he send you here?”

“No, but when I told him I was coming and shoved the baby into his arms, he didn’t say a word in protest.”

Nate snorted. He could imagine her doing that. Ari wasn’t cowed by Adam at all.

Seeing he was amused, she rubbed his hand. “He loves you, Nate. Everyone does. No one wants you to end up pushed away.”

“I don’t want that either. I just . . . There’s something prodding me inside lately. I mean to back down, I swear, but somehow I never can.”

Sympathy filled Ari’s Iowa-blue eyes. “When the people you work with are also family, the chain of command thing doesn’t always sit well.”

“It’s supposed to,” Nate said. “I’m supposed to know my place in the pack and feel comfortable in it—just like Tony and Carmine do.”

“But for you it’s work,” Ari said softly. “For you not being Number One feels unfair.”

What she said was so true he teared up. Ari saw it, of course. “C’mere,” she said, holding out her arms.

She was a shrimp and only had a human’s strength, but she hugged pretty well. He felt better as she held him; she had enough pack essence in her for that. After a bit, she sighed and pushed back from him. “You’re a smart man. So is Adam. Sometimes, though, neither of you are very good at not thinking like your wolves.”

Nate tugged one spike of her strawberry colored hair. “We are what we are.”

“Oh blah-di-blah,” she scoffed. “Thinking like that is defeatist.”

He shook his head, and she raised her eyebrows. Then, probably considering this as good as getting in the last word, she craned around him to peer at something in his living room.

“Your message light is blinking,” she informed him.

Nate loved high tech gadgets. He had his virtual answering machine set up to display on his wide screen TV. Six messages showed there now, all from the same number.

Heat rose into his cheeks as he recognized whose it was.

“Why, Nate,” Ari teased, “I do believe you’re blushing.”

“It’s just a woman I’ve been seeing.”

“The tigress.” Ari wagged her eyebrows meaningfully. “Believe me, I heard an earful about that too.”

“Evina is a really nice person.”

“I’m sure she is, considering you like her enough to blush.” She cocked her head, still amused by this. “I’d like to meet her some time, if it isn’t too soon for that. You know I don’t give a hoot about the supposedly deathly important cats and dogs conflict.”

Nate supposed she wouldn’t, given that she’d grown up Outside. He tried to imagine Ari and Evina enjoying a girl’s lunch together. It made for a strange image. Though they both were mothers, Ari still reminded him of a street kid sometimes. He wouldn’t lay odds as to whether they’d hit it off.

“That’s nice of you to offer,” he said cautiously.

Ari punched his arm like the tomboy she used to be. “Get your voicemail. I know you’re dying to. Besides which, I believe I’ve accomplished as much of my peace mission as I can.”

“Thank you,” he said as she swanned comically to the door.

She stopped there to grin at him. “Call your love interest, lady-killer. Someone has to distract you from getting into more trouble.”

Rather than listen to six messages, as soon as Ari was gone, Nate dialed Evina on his cell. Evina answered on the second ring. She must not have had caller ID service on her phone. “Mohajit residence,” she said in a harried voice.

“It’s Nate.”

“Oh thank goodness. I was hoping you’d call me back tonight. I’m sorry to bother you—” A thunderous noise interrupted her, not unlike a stampeding herd of cows. “Abby! Stop chasing your brother down the stairs while I’m on the phone. Can you come over? I need to talk to you, but I can’t leave the kids.”

“What’s the matter? You sound upset.”

She blew out a gust of air. “Maybe it’s nothing. I thought I saw the head doctor from my vision at the dry cleaners, the one who smothered the little boy. Also, he—”

“I’ll be right over,” Nate said, having heard enough.

“But I—”

“I already have my car keys,” he said, which he did. “Lock the doors and keep the kids inside.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“Please, Evina.” He was halfway down the stairs by then. “I don’t want to talk and drive. Just stay put and wait for me.”

His palms were sweating, his body energized—adrenaline and other things goading him to get to her without delay. His instinct to protect her was as impossible to mistake as it was to ignore.

“Okay,” she said, sounding less certain than he was. “But I warn you, it’s a bit of a madhouse here.”

“No worries,” he said grimly, swinging into his car. “Someone recently told me I’d benefit from a distraction.”

~

The idea of Nate rushing over to keep her safe made Evina almost as nervous as her memory of the murderous doctor. She grabbed the fifteen minutes she thought she had to tidy up, a task her hyperactive kids weren’t making easier.

“Please change into your boy form,” she pleaded with Rafi.

“We’re playing, Mommy,” Abby protested. “I’m Daniel, and Rafi’s being the lion.”

The lion let out his scratchy cub roar to demonstrate.

Great, Evina thought. This is what her children picked up in All-Faith Sunday school.

Nate must have driven from his condo with his foot on the floor. No more than ten minutes later, his inimitable police knock thumped at the front door.

Evina threw one last toy into the box in the living room and went to answer it.

She really, truly didn’t expect the relief that flooded her when she saw him. “Hey,” she said, and he smiled at her.

It was a tired smile, but in that moment, he was the best-looking man she’d ever seen. His crooked grin was enchanting, his lean build perfect, his crinkling eyes as welcome as a hot cup of coffee first thing in the morning. She wanted to give him a giant hug, but didn’t quite know how to initiate one.

“Hey,” he answered and bent to do it himself.

They both held on a little longer than they had to. Abby spotted them from the foot of the stairs.

“You’re back,” she said with obvious surprise. Though she was only six, she sometimes shared her mother’s slightly cynical view of men.

“I am,” Nate agreed.

He stepped inside and shut the door, giving it the extra hip shove it always took. He locked it before Evina could. The presumption should have made her bristle, but for some reason it didn’t. Come to join his sister, Rafi plunked down in the entryway. His tiger mouth gawped at Nate, his striped tail curled around his haunches.

“Hi again,” Nate greeted. “Shall I shake your paw, or would you like to change into boy form and say hello.”

Rafi’s response was to turn and bound up the stairs.

“He’s shy sometimes,” Evina said.

“Can I watch Mini-Dragons to the Rescue?” Abby asked.

“Sure,” Evina consented. The cartoon was her kids’ favorite. She’d be surprised if they didn’t have every DVD of them ever made. “One episode, okay? Bedtime is pretty close.”

“And don’t leave the house,” Nate added.

Abby’s eyes went round at being given an order from a near stranger. She shot a look at her mother, who could practically hear her quick little mind figuring angles. “What if Rafi wants to run on the grass?”

“Not tonight,” Evina said. “Grandmom’s not around to watch you.”

With her kids dispersed, Evina and Nate went to the couch in the living room. Telling him what happened turned out not to be difficult. The way he laid his hand on her knee and kept it there while she spoke calmed her nerves wonderfully.

“You’re sure he spelled you?” Nate asked.

“Pretty sure. I mean, no one’s ever done it to me before, but it felt like people describe. I literally was too afraid to move.”

Nate squeezed her knee and mulled this over, staring at the wall opposite the couch. A length of traditional Indian fabric hung there in lieu of art. She wondered what he thought of her low-budget decorations, but told herself just because he had good stuff didn’t mean he was a snob.

“Do you think he recognized you?” he asked.

Evina forced herself not to shiver. “How could he? I only saw him in a vision. He couldn’t have seen me. Maybe he’s paranoid and spells everyone who stares at him.”

Nate gave her an amused but dubious look.

“Well, I don’t know why he did it.”

“You said he didn’t look like an elf, but did he seem human?”

She considered this. “You mean a human sorcerer? I don’t think he could have been, because they draw on their own energy, and the spell didn’t weaken him. I suppose he could have been a natural human Talent, but then why would he have chanted? Talents don’t use rituals. He’d just think me into being afraid.”

“Could he have been part fae?”

That hadn’t occurred to her. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d spot it. My ex’s wife is one part fae and three parts shifter. Apart from being unfairly gorgeous, she seems normal.”

Nate rubbed his chin with the fingers of his free hand, the other now entwined with hers. “Is your ex’s wife a redhead, by chance?”

Evina grimaced at being obliged to answer this. “She’s a silky sunshiny blonde, like a princess from a story. Natural too. Never had a root in her life. Also, her thighs are thin.”

“Hm,” Nate said distractedly. She’d expected him to laugh.

“Why is this important?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. My gut tells me this fake adoption case is linked to the Galinas. I just haven’t figured out how the two intersect.”

“I saw on the news today that Ivan Galina was murdered.”

“Yes. Probably by his brother, though—thanks to me—we can’t prove that.”

“How can it be thanks to you?”

He shook his head; shook himself, in fact. “It isn’t. I’m feeling sorry for myself. I spooked some people of interest I thought I had on a hook, and things got . . . tense today at work.”

Evina wouldn’t let him turn away. She took his angular and wonderful face between her hands. “Nobody makes the right choices every time. That doesn’t mean you aren’t good at your job. If you weren’t passionate about doing it well, you wouldn’t be here now, trying to keep me and my family safe.”

He rubbed her wrists, holding her clasp to him. Looking into his eyes, seeing his affection and wry humor, Evina began to melt in a whole new way. This wasn’t a crush. This was a once in a lifetime emotion she was feeling. The embers that began to glow in his gaze said maybe he felt the same.

“Evina Mohajit,” he murmured, “you are one in a million.”

Perhaps she’d have joked that he’d known a million, but then an idea hit him.

“He didn’t ask for protection.”

“Who didn’t?”

His hands chafed her forearms, like maybe touching her helped him think. Evina dropped her palms to his hard shoulders. “Vasili Galina. He’s not an alpha, but at least on paper, he’s Ivan’s heir. The first thing any of his more ambitious lieutenants are going to do is eliminate the chance Vasili will claim the empty throne. But Vasili wasn’t afraid of that. Mostly, he was annoyed at us.”

“Maybe he’s too stupid to see the danger.”

“He’s smart enough. And he’s canny, which sometimes matters more. When we first arrested him, he seemed relieved to go into protective custody. So what’s making him brave now?”

“He must have a partner.”

Nate smiled at her. “Yes. He must have a partner shoring up his nerves, someone who was also afraid of Ivan but not his underlings.”

She smiled in return, pleased she’d helped him figure this out, if only by accident. “I’m sorry I didn’t get the SUV’s license plate,” she said, remembering her own brush with fear.

“You did better than most people would. I’ll run the Escalade’s description. Maybe narrow it down to vehicles with ‘MD’ on the plate. Doctors like those vanity things.”

“Smart,” Evina said.

Nate wiggled his brows at her. “I’m not just charming and good-looking. I also have a brain.”

“Sheesh.” Evina laughed, happy to see the shadows in his face fading.

Nate stroked her cheek, then cupped her chin and kissed her. Heat sluiced through her body at the first slick touch of his tongue. She gripped his shoulders, pulling herself to him.

He hummed, his hands sliding to her waist. He pulled back as if he didn’t intend to do so for long. “How is it you taste so good to me?”

“Mommy,” Rafi said from the open arch to the living room. “Is Detective Rivera going to help you tuck us in?”

They’d jolted apart the instant his voice rang out. Evina saw her son was in his Spiderman PJs. From the minty smell he was wafting, he’d also brushed his teeth. Miracles didn’t cease, apparently.

“I changed,” he said. “So I could say hello.”

Nate let out a snort that was probably a laugh.

“That’s good,” Evina said. “I guess . . .” She looked at Nate, at a loss.

“I’d be happy to help tuck you in,” he said. “There’s a boy in my pack I get to practice on now and then. Ethan’s only a little younger than you.”

“Is he a wolf?”

“He is.”

“They only change when the moon is full.”

“That’s generally true.”

“I can change anytime.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Nate said with a half-smile.

“Mommy!” Abby wailed from upstairs. “My one episode is over.”

“Hm,” Nate said. “Sounds like you have two cubs to tuck in.”

“You don’t have to,” Evina said, awkwardness rising inside her. “I didn’t call you over for this.”

“I want to.” Nate’s eyes were warm on hers. “This is exactly what I needed tonight.”

~

The process of tucking in tiger cubs was neither more nor less involved than Nate’s experiences with Ethan. He helped Evina serenade them with all three verses of the Mini-Dragons theme song, checked under the beds for monsters, locked the windows, and made sure each child’s covers were arranged as they preferred. He left the forehead kissing to Evina, deciding hair mussing was more appropriate for a visitor.

“You’re nicer than Gretel Newman’s mother’s boyfriend,” Abby mumbled sleepily. “Even if you’re a wolf.”

“Sorry about that,” Evina said once they were alone in the hall.

Nate shook his head. His hands slid naturally down her arms to weave their fingers together. “Kids pick up things from each other.”

Evina pulled a humorous face. “I’m afraid that ‘even if you’re a wolf’ stuff came from her father. My crew told him about you.”

Nate was amused. “They must think there’s cause for worry.”

“Nothing but.” Evina smiled back slyly. “You’re a dangerous man.”

Their hands swung together like teenagers on a date. “I should stay tonight,” Nate said. “Until we find out what’s up with that doctor.”

Evina’s golden eyes turned so molten they should have set him on fire. He hardened in a surge that left him pounding in suddenly snug trousers. Her next question tightened them even more. “How do you feel about going to bed early?”

He felt good about it; so good he took her three times in the next half hour. They both were keener to have sex than he expected, and it was quiet but vigorous. Nate punched a few new claw holes into her headboard, and Evina lost control enough to rake his back.

He’d thought that would be it, but she squirmed out from under him and sat on top of his butt.

“Nothing you can do from there,” he teased drowsily. “Unless you’re planning to dig out your boy-toys again.”

“Ha ha.” Evina bent to kiss one of the scratch marks she’d left on him. The tip of her tongue curled out, trailing up the short score line. The moisture tickled, but the sensation turned to an itch as the injury healed. She repeated the lick on the next two scratches.

The sweetness of the gesture threatened to close his throat.

“You could leave me one,” he suggested lightly. “As a souvenir.”

“You’d like it if I marked you then?”

“Maybe.”

“Your packmates won’t tease you in the locker room?”

“They tease me as it is. On account of my sharp wardrobe.”

She laughed, and he shifted around under her, wanting to see her face. Her braid had fallen forward over her shoulder, its disheveled length curved between her breasts. Nate reached to pet it even as her hands slid up the sides of his ribs. They were sharing a supremely lazy state, practically drunk from their orgasms. Nate’s cock stirred between them anyway.

Evina gave him a look like, You’re kidding me. You want to go again? Nate knew she wasn’t complaining. Her nipples drew tight as he stroked her hair.

“I’ve had daydreams about this braid,” he confessed.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. It’s Rapunzel-long, and it winds around my naked body to tie me up.”

“Ah. That sort of daydream.” She smiled, hands drawing to his hips where her thumbs pushed through the curls of his pubic thatch. Nate’s cock stirred more energetically.

“You’re very cruel in my dreams,” he went on, taking her nipples between his fingers. “You keep me prisoner and have your way with me.”

Since her nipples had beaded up, he pinched them. Evina sucked in a breath, her hold tightening on his hips. Warmth and wetness welled from her body onto his. Nate’s cock finished stiffening in one quick punch.

“My hair isn’t long enough to tie you up,” she said.

She’d seen the idea he’d painted, and she was digging it. Her voice had the husky edge that meant she wanted him.

“You could let it down,” he proposed. “You could ride me and I’d pretend.”

Their gazes connected, their imaginations mutually inspired by the fantasy. Evina began to unbind her hair, the motions of her fingers causing his blood to heat. He didn’t want to speak for fear of breaking the spell. She parted the plaits that made up her hair . . . halfway, then all, combing the ripples and shaking her dark curls free. Her nipples peeked through the strands like an X-rated fairy tale.

Nate’s hands still cupped her breasts. She took his wrists in her hold, her grip cuffing them. He knew what was coming, and it excited him all the same.

Slowly, firmly, she pulled his hands away.

He resisted, but only enough to give her something to work against. This was a demonstration of tiger strength, and he was enjoying it. By the time she’d forced his wrists down against the pillow, his cock was as hard as stone. He tightened his buttocks to push his hard-on up at her.

Getting what he wanted wasn’t going to be that simple. Rather than take him, she dragged her creamy labia up his length.

He gasped, nerves jangling wildly at that treatment.

She bent to kiss him, her curls spilling around them. Her mouth was tender and forceful at the same time. When he struggled, she clamped his wrists harder.

The tip of his penis began to leak, the drops falling onto his stomach.

“You’re my prisoner,” she whispered against his lips. “You’re not getting out of here until I have my way with you.”

She made a game into something real, rubbing her pussy along his shaft in increasingly gentle rolls. He couldn’t come; she’d lightened the pressure too much for that. This didn’t mean her actions weren’t pleasurable. She was sleek and soft and her folds clung to him wetly. The contrast between this and her iron grip on his wrists sharpened his perceptions of both places. His spine felt like a wire was tightening inside it, starting in his tailbone.

“Please,” he said, giving in. “Take me inside you.”

He must have liked pleading when it was to her. Odd little sparks sizzled through his groin as he said the words. Evina wet her wine-red lips and rolled her hips up again. “Please means nothing to me. I’ll fuck you when I decide.”

She yanked his arms wider. The abrupt jerk shocked him as much as her saying fuck, though the shock was hardly a bad one. A throb shot up his penis, an ache of want so intense he couldn’t tell if it was discomfort or pleasure. Suddenly, her gentleness was gone. Her hips ground over the ache—the friction almost too hard, almost too sweet—and then she tipped and moved and the crazily pulsing head of his penis was sliding into her.

He nearly bit his tongue at how incredible that felt.

She took him: her strength, her power, her thigh muscles cording beautifully as she pushed down his length. Heat licked down him inch by inch. She wriggled him deeper when he was seated, just as he would have done to her.

“You’re mine,” she said, growling it.

Somehow this didn’t sound like playacting.

“I am,” he growled back in the same maybe-I’m-serious spirit. “And I’m not going to let you forget it.”

Her pupils flashed, the alpha in her resisting his warning. Nate didn’t care. If he was hers, then certainly she was his. He twisted his hands, and her wrists were the ones that were cuffed. Evina yanked, but couldn’t free herself. Nate didn’t think she minded. Despite the sparks her eyes were shooting, her sheath alternately quivered and clamped around his cock.

“Ride me hard,” he dared, low and dark. “Prove to me you’re in charge.”

She tossed her hair and did her damnedest.

Nate loved every second: every bounce of her gorgeous breasts, every curve and muscle she showed off. She was his tiger queen, putting her slavish mount through his helpless paces. She rode him so well he needed years of tricks to stave off coming. He wasn’t surprised when his bulbus gland activated; that primitive part of him couldn’t help but give its all for her.

Its engorgement warned him tricks wouldn’t help him now. He released her wrists to grab for her hips, needing to add his strength to hers for the final thrusts. She gripped his shoulders, her tiger claws digging in. She pumped herself on his cock so fast he had to bite his lip to keep from shouting.

Glorious was the only word to describe how she looked when she flung back her curls and came. Her abandon awed him, the passion she seemed to have no fear of expressing. As her pussy compressed around him in orgasm, he doubted his cock had ever been so hard. The tightening of her walls on his swollen gland was exquisite—and more than his control could stand. The pressure in his groin hit flashpoint. His orgasm crested, the pleasure so powerful he put bruises on both their thighs from bucking into her like a fiend.

He assumed Evina liked it. She let out a strangled sound, like she could hardly bear how good it felt. The throbbing contractions of her pussy told him she was coming again.

At last, they settled on their backs on her very rumpled bed. Their ribs went in and out as they tried to catch their breaths. He wondered if she’d bring up the fact that she’d called him hers—or that he hadn’t protested.

“Whew,” she said, her hand squeezing his. “You are a good workout.”

He guessed she was going to let it lie for now. That was okay. At least, he thought it was. If all she’d been doing was role-playing, he suspected he might be ticked.

“I hope you’re ready to sleep now,” he said aloud. “You wore me out good that time.”

She rolled up on her elbow to study his slight smile, her right index finger tracing the sweaty hollow beneath his eye. The light touch felt nice to him. “You looked tired when you showed up tonight.”

Nate really didn’t want to get into that. “I was tired. Now I’m also satisfied.”

She laughed, though concern remained in her eyes. “Sleep, little wolf,” she crooned. “I’ll watch over you tonight.”

Nate’s grin fought through his weariness. “Will you sing me the Mini-Dragons’ theme song?”

She snuggled down against him, her cheek on his chest, her upper arm hugging his ribcage. “I’ll sing you Bohemian Demon Rhapsody if you want, though I warn you I don’t really know the tune.”

“Don’t care. Love means never having to apologize for being off key.”

He didn’t care that she jerked at his use of the L word. Let her wonder if he meant it. Let her get used to the idea. For once, Nate Rivera was happy to have a woman think he was serious about her.

Chapter Ten

BECAUSE the contents of Evina’s fridge had dwindled to pitiful, Nate called his favorite grocery delivery service first thing after he woke up. The smells woke Evina’s son sooner than the others. Silent but interested, Rafi hopped onto his chair at the kitchen table mere minutes after Nate began cooking.

Since his feet didn’t reach the floor, he had no trouble swinging his legs. He watched Nate work with great attention.

“That’s steak,” he said. “For breakfast.”

“Yes, it is. Don’t you like steak?”

Nate had never met a predator were who didn’t. He wasn’t surprised when the boy nodded emphatically. “Is it your birthday?”

Nate was realizing the Mohajits’ budgetary belt was a few holes tighter than his own. “It’s not my birthday. Sometimes treats are for no reason.”

“That’s what Mom says. And then she says don’t get used to it.”

Nate felt like a crossbow bolt had struck him in the chest. He looked at the boy. Rafi’s blue eyes were huge in his narrow face, his black curls resembling something that came from sticking your finger in a light socket. The boy wasn’t complaining. He seemed to want to know the rules for this new visitor’s behavior.

“Are you sad?” Rafi asked. “Your eyes look funny.”

Oh boy, Nate thought as his heart gave another lurch. He accepted he was probably falling for Evina. Falling for her kids he hadn’t prepared for.

“I’m thinking about cutting onions,” he told Rafi. “I like them in my eggs.”

Rafi’s giggle was infectious. “You must be thinking about them hard.”

Knowing how much growing weres could eat, Nate scrambled an egg for Rafi, then set up Evina’s stovetop grill. As that heated up for the meat, he made coffee, proud of himself for juggling tasks and amounts so well. Two-person dinners were more his usual. Everything was going perfectly until a tall broad shadow appeared outside the kitchen door. Evina’s townhome was an end unit, or it wouldn’t have had this entrance. As a key slid into the lock, Nate wasn’t glad for the perk.

He flicked off the burners and pulled his ankle piece in nearly the same motion. Rafi gasped in shock, which Nate took a second to feel bad about.

“Don’t move,” he ordered the intruder. With a small corner of his mind, he noticed the man had two women behind him.

“That’s my Daddy!” Rafi said. “Don’t shoot him!”

The man had his hands up, an instinctive reaction that showed he had some sense. His expression, on the other hand, was surlier than Nate would have recommended, considering which of them had the gun.

“What are you doing here?” Rafi’s father demanded.

Built on the same huge lines as Evina’s crew, his azure eyes matched the twins’. His hair was honey-brown and wavy, and his jaw was square. Movie heroes had looks like his, though his obvious ego spoiled them some.

Play nice, Nate reminded himself. There’s a kid in the room.

“I’m cooking breakfast,” he said as mildly as he was able. Though Evina’s ex seemed to know who he was, he introduced himself anyway. “I’m Nate Rivera, with the RPD. I’m sure Rafi would run upstairs and get Evina for you.”

This made the man—Paul, Nate thought he was called—frown harder.

“Actually,” he said, “we . . . we were hoping Evina could put us in touch with you.”

Nate lowered his gun and stuck it in the back of his trousers, though his wolf half didn’t want to be civilized. This was Evina’s ex-boyfriend, the father of her children.

Nate wasn’t convinced he’d deserved either of those honors.

But perhaps Paul wasn’t at his best. He looked ragged, like he’d been on a bender and hadn’t slept a wink. A quick glance at the women who hovered together at the open side door confirmed something was going on. Both females were slender, fair-haired, and beautiful. Though repairs had been made, he saw signs of worry and weeping—more in the woman he suspected was younger. She was slightly shorter than her companion and was clinging to her as if afraid she’d blow away without an anchor. Her pretty flower-bedecked cardigan was buttoned crookedly.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” he asked, having observed all this in a few seconds.

Paul and the younger blonde drew breath to answer, but the sound of feet coming down the steps stopped them. Dressed in a button-down yellow oxford and khaki pants, Evina was hurrying to join them.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her gaze going around the kitchen. She stopped on her ex’s face. “Paul, what’s wrong?”

The tall strapping tiger burst into tears. “It’s Malik,” he said, struggling to speak clearly. “Someone kidnapped him.”

“Oh my God.” Evina’s eyes filled with horror, suggesting her imagination was going the same place as his.

“Malik is your son?” Nate asked.

Paul nodded jerkily. “He’s barely two,” added the woman Nate assumed was Paul’s wife. “Please help us get him back.”

“Did you get a ransom call?”

“Yes.” Paul wiped his face and tried to pull himself together. “It woke us up this morning. They want sixty thousand dollars. Until we heard, we had no idea Malik was missing. Liane and I ran to his room, but his crib was empty.”

His voice broke, the memory overwhelming him. Nate looked at the wife. Liane was crying as well, but seemed better able to speak. Unfairly gorgeous was a good way to describe her. Her teary eyes were the blue of violets, her skin like rose powder mixed in cream. With her delicate frame and features, she gave off an impression of fragility, the sort of woman most men felt compelled to protect. When her petal pink lips parted, Nate had to struggle to focus.

She smelled like a spring meadow.

“Did you contact the police?” he asked. “Apart from me, that is.”

“No,” she said in a soft sweet voice that made him think of kittens—anxious kittens, at the moment. “The kidnappers said they’d kill Malik if we went to the cops. I didn’t want to come to you at all, but my mother and Paul thought we should talk to someone with experience.”

“We knew Evina and you were friendly,” Paul said, a hint of sourness returning to his tone. Nate fought the smile that wanted to rise at this. “We figured you could help us quietly.”

“I could help you better with my whole team.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Liane begged. “We took a risk coming here. If the kidnappers found out . . . Malik is so little, and he’s . . . special.”

She didn’t say special like her son was the destined savior of his people. She said special like he had some weakness. Nate shot a glance at Evina and back to Paul’s wife. “Mrs.—”

“Liane,” she corrected. “And this is my mother, Iseult Fionn.”

Both nice fae names, he couldn’t help noticing. Iseult inclined her head to him coolly. In contrast to her daughter’s misbuttoned cardigan and jeans, she wore a crisp cream-colored pantsuit with a pale blue satin shirt. Worried or not, she was perfectly accessorized. Solitary rose-tinted pearls gleamed at her ears and in the hollow of her elegant throat. If she’d been expected to pay the ransom, Nate had a feeling the kidnappers could have asked for more.

Filing this away, he returned his attention to her daughter. “Liane, I know this is a personal question, but does your son have trouble shifting into his tiger form?”

“What the fuck, Evina!” Paul snapped.

“I didn’t tell him,” Evina denied hotly. “Though maybe I should have!”

“Maybe you—”

“Stop,” Nate said, hard and low, before the exes could get into it. “Liane, are you the person who answered the ransom call?”

Her eyes were round, both her arms hugging one of her mother’s. “My mother answered the phone, but then she got me. Mom’s been staying with us to help with Malik.” She paused, seeming to decide whether to say what she did next. “I remember every word the kidnappers said. It’s one of my few gifts. I’m a quarter-faerie on my mother’s side.”

Her mother stroked her flaxen hair, presumably to comfort her. Her face showed less emotion than her daughter’s, but that could have been due to her being half faerie. Faeries didn’t believe in displaying feelings in front of inferiors. Oddly, considering she had more fae blood, Iseult seemed less beautiful to him than Liane. Maybe her coldness was the reason. Nate had never gone for icy blondes.

“Can you help us?” Iseult asked Nate. Her voice was warmer than her expression, though he wouldn’t call it sultry. The observation was trite, but she and her daughter could have passed for sisters in age.

Nate suspected Iseult didn’t mind that at all.

“I hope I can, Mrs. Fionn,” he said, aware he wasn’t going to be asked to call her by her first name. “Perhaps you could keep the others calm in the living room while Evina and I have a quick discussion. Do you have a phone the kidnappers can reach you on?”

Paul pulled a 4G Elfnet Galaxy from his pants pocket. His hand was shaking, but he was calmer. “I had our other line forwarded.”

“Good,” Nate said. “If they call again, please send Rafi up to get me.”

When Nate looked at the boy, the six-year-old nodded that he could do this. Nate smiled at Rafi’s wide-eyed readiness to help. Throwing appropriateness to the wind, he bent to kiss the curly top of his head.

“You’re a trooper,” he whispered.

“I like Malik,” he whispered back. “Thank you for saving him.”

Nate hoped this nice expression of faith didn’t turn out to be misplaced.

Aware that nothing but sharp ears surrounded them, Nate led Evina to the upstairs bathroom. There, he shut the door behind them and turned the taps on full. She sat on the edge of the tub while Nate leaned against the savannah-themed wallpaper. He was sorry the space wasn’t bigger. He would have liked to pace.

“We have to do something,” Evina said. “Whatever is going on, we can’t let those butchers cut up another child and sell it for parts.”

Nate was glad her mind had followed the same track as his. He only wished his own would work faster. He crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on one elbow. Clearly, the powers behind the bogus adoption scheme, the ones they hadn’t discovered and arrested, had decided he was too close to unmasking them. Otherwise, why choose a kidnapping target so likely to involve him in the rescue? Paul and Liane might or might not have been steered into contacting him. The baby sellers could have relied on natural association suggesting the path to them. What he had trouble guessing was what he’d done to set these particular wheels in motion. Was the final straw the search he’d phoned in about the black SUV? His visit to the smoke shop for the Galina case?

Until Ellen Owen’s cousins had turned off their camera, his image had been on it. They could have discovered he’d spearheaded the shutdown of the poorly named Wings of Love agency. Someone might be afraid he’d find the pivot that linked the two cases. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what he knew. If he had, choosing his next move would be easier.

“Nate.” Evina reached out to clasp his forearm. “I thought we came up here to talk.”

Nate uncrossed his arms and cupped her cheek instead. Her face was turned up to him, shower spray pounding the plastic mini-dragon curtain behind her head. Her corkscrewed curls were springy against his fingers, her skin warm velvet under his palm. Normally, Nate would have been revved by this stage of an investigation. Motion wasn’t that different from progress. Today, he was simply praying he could keep these people he cared about safely out of it.

“It’s some kind of trap, isn’t it?” she asked, her shoulders bracing for his answer. “Malik being taken. You being asked to help.”

“It seems likely. Ivan Galina dies, and the following morning, another shifter child who can’t change disappears. That can’t be happenstance.”

“Malik is older than the others, and this isn’t being disguised as an adoption.”

She was grasping at straws, hoping he’d say this could be a regular kidnapping for money. Nate understood, but wouldn’t give her false hope.

“We shut down the fake agency,” he said. “Possibly the people behind this are desperate to fill orders.”

Evina shuddered. “Orders. Like those children were groceries.”

“I know.” He stroked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t like to ask this, but could your ex-boyfriend be involved?”

“No,” she said, quiet but definite. “Not Paul. He has his faults, but he’s dedicated his life to rescuing people, not putting them in danger—and certainly not his own cub.”

“And Liane?”

“I don’t think so,” she said less surely. “I’ve seen her with Malik. She adores him, just as Paul does. I know they probably wish he was normal, but they’d never wish him gone. That’s why I didn’t warn them to be careful earlier. They’d never give him up for adoption. Overprotect him, maybe, but not that.”

Nate folded his arms again to think, rubbing his chin this time. He remembered the werefoxes’ embarrassment over their imperfect son. Could similar emotions have influenced Paul and Liane? Nate respected Evina’s judgment, but couldn’t substitute it for his own. Evina might be trying to be too fair to Liane, because she knew her position as the replaced girlfriend created a natural bias against her.

Her next words didn’t erase that possibility. “I don’t know about Iseult,” she said. “I’ve only met her twice, when I was dropping the kids at Paul’s. As you can tell, she’s a cold fae fish. From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t mind cowing her daughter, though Liane seems attached to her. I suppose if there were a ring of part-fae criminals no one knew about, she might be willing to help it out. I don’t think she likes non-fae much.”

Nate drew his hands down his face. Him agreeing with this assessment didn’t mean it was true.

“What are you going to do?” Evina asked.

“The only way to see where this leads is to play along.”

“You’ll tell your squad, though. You wouldn’t play along that far.”

Her dismay warmed him. “I don’t think I can tell them, Evina. I don’t know where the involved parties are getting their information. I trust my pack members, but they could be being watched without knowing it. Adam never liked me pursuing this case. He kept his focus and the others’ on bringing the Galinas down.”

“Your alpha won’t like you doing this alone.”

“Even so.”

“But you know it’s a trap!”

His reaction to her outburst strengthened his sureness that this was the right option, no matter what it cost him. “Whether it’s a trap or not, that two-year-old was taken. Are you willing to bet they’re not going to hurt Malik because—maybe—Liane’s mother is their ally? I need them to believe this trap is unfolding the way they want.”

“Crap,” Evina said.

The word held such surrender and frustration Nate smiled at her.

“My kids love Malik,” she admitted. “I worried they’d be jealous about their father starting a new family, but them having a little half-brother is the one nice thing to come out of me and Paul breaking up.”

“Just the one?” Nate teased, loving how she scowled at him in response. She certainly wasn’t going to blow away in a wind. He chafed her shoulders to bolster them both for what he had to say. “I want you to call your mother. Don’t send the kids to school. Stick together somewhere other than here. It shouldn’t seem out of character if you want to pull close today.”

“I hate this,” Evina huffed. “I want to fight this with you.”

His chest couldn’t have ached more if she’d said I love you. “You need to keep your family safe,” he reminded. “And yourself. I think you know that matters to me.”

She stared hard at him, not happy but not putting up a fight. “Give me your alpha’s direct phone number.”

“Evina . . .”

“That’s my condition for going along with this. I know I’m trained to fight fires and not criminals, but if this goes wrong, someone has to be able to call in the cavalry.”

“Fine.” He told her the number, trusting her to remember it. Chances were, if he needed the cavalry, Evina would have no idea until it was too late. If she got into trouble, better she could reach Adam. Despite the strain between them, his alpha could be counted on to come to her rescue.

Not wanting to leave the others alone any longer, Nate left the bathroom and trotted down the stairs. Liane was in the kitchen with the twins—Abby having finally woken up. Liane earned at least one point with Nate for taking over preparing the children’s steaks.

Seeing they were fine, and knowing Evina was calling her mother, he stepped into the living room. Paul and his mother-in-law were on the couch. A space the width of Liane’s bottom separated them on the cushions. These two weren’t sharing comfort in their time of need. Iseult’s spine was so ramrod straight she could have been planted on a stick. Nate reminded himself she must have let her hair down with a full shifter once, or her daughter wouldn’t exist. Iseult couldn’t be as bloodless as she seemed.

She and Paul turned their heads to him when he entered. Iseult smoothed the perfect knees of her cream pantsuit. Her hands were breathtakingly graceful, perhaps her loveliest attribute.

“Here’s how it’s going to be,” Nate said, deciding to let Liane stay where she was for this talk. “I’ll accompany Paul to the bank to facilitate him withdrawing the sixty thousand without trouble.”

“The kidnappers said they’d call me with directions for the drop.”

“All right,” Nate said. “If it’s you they want to make the delivery and not Liane—”

“Liane!” Paul had the decency to look horrified.

“You wife might seem less threatening than a man. In any case, whoever they choose, I’ll follow him or her to the drop off point.”

“If they spot you . . .” Iseult said, lovely hand to her throat.

“They won’t spot me. I know how to blend in. Anyway, I’ll follow Paul or whoever. The place for retrieving Malik will probably be somewhere else, though I’ll coach you on how to negotiate the same drop off and exchange point.”

“You mean they could take the money and not return Malik.” Not as calm as he was trying to sound, Paul wet dry lips.

“They could. You’ll want to ask for proof of life. A video sent to your phone or the sound of your son’s voice. He can talk, yes?”

Paul’s mouth twitched with an ironic smile. “Malik’s a terrible two. He can be very expressive.”

“That’s good. He’ll understand you. If you get a chance to speak to him, say whatever you can to soothe him.”

“What if I get nervous?”

“The kidnappers will expect you to be. We’ll go over this again. Just do the best you can.”

Paul looked at him, and Nate saw a normal scared civilian behind his eyes.

“I’ll do my best to get your son back safe,” Nate promised.

Paul nodded and dropped his gaze, probably embarrassed for needing reassurance from a man he didn’t approve of.

Nate patted his trouser pocket to make sure his keys were there. He realized he couldn’t take his Goblinati if he was pretending to blend in. Evina’s Camry would be better, but the converted model was a for-shit car. The last thing he needed was for his ride to break down. That left Rick’s Buick among his options, though he’d have to borrow it without permission.

“Give me your bank address,” Nate said. “Wait in the parking lot until I text you. The people who have Malik may be watching what you do. I’ll go in first and badge the manager for you.”

Paul rose stiffly from the couch. He swiped his palm down his shirt before offering it to Nate. His tiger strength was apparent in the squeeze. Nate didn’t think he was being macho so much as earnest.

“Thank you, man. This is decent of you.”

“It’s my job,” Nate said. “Just like saving people from fires is yours.”

Iseult stood a moment later, more gracefully. “You’ll keep this quiet, won’t you? You won’t risk my grandson’s life by going to your pack.” She held the pink-tinged pearl pendant that hung at her throat, a nervous habit, he guessed. Her irises were pure silver, as if strands of that precious metal had been set to radiate around her jet-black pupils. He saw her appeal then. She was a cool calm lake among icy mountains, a respite from the heat and jangle of normal life. Other women’s beauty was crude compared to hers. Most men would consider it an honor to do as she asked them.

“You can count on me,” he said. For at least three heartbeats, he meant exactly that.

~

Nate’s motto was: if you don’t know what to expect, expect everything. Paul’s bank seemed innocuous enough. It was a small Resurrection Savings and Loan, a suburban style one-story with a drive-through. The drive-through wasn’t going to cut it for a sixty thousand buck withdrawal. As he strode across the grass-rimmed parking lot, Nate saw Paul sitting in his car. He was alone; Liane was being excluded from the proceedings for as long as possible. Paul looked nervous, but no more than he ought to be. A florist’s van parked half a block down could have been surveillance—as could any of the five customers inside.

When he’d let himself into Rick’s apartment to take the keys to his car, Nate had liberated a few items from his ammo closet as well. He had six electrum throwing stars in his leather jacket’s pocket, a tiny canister of knock-out gas, and fresh clips for his ankle gun. Anything bigger was likely to be spotted. As it was, he was counting on an old obfuscation charm to confuse the bank’s weapons detectors. The bag of pre-spelled herbs had been gathering lint in Rick’s catchall drawer, saved for a rainy day that had finally come.

No alarms went off as he entered, so he could check off one worry box. Badging the oldest of the four tellers also went smoothly. Her brows shot up, but she closed her window and went for the manager. A brief discussion with that gentleman reassured Nate he could text Paul to come in. The teller would direct Paul to the manager’s office, where Nate and he would be assembling the not-new, non-sequential bills—just as the kidnappers had instructed. Paul wasn’t on as tight a budget as Evina, but he wasn’t rolling in dough either. The money would have to be drawn from Paul and Liane’s accounts, including their 401k—no easy task on short notice unless the cops were involved.

Once again he noted how neatly the necessity for his presence had been arranged.

The bank’s offices were small, arranged in a line at the rear of the building along a narrow hall. The manager’s office was the last. Paul joined them a few minutes later, carrying the gym bag he’d been told to bring. He seemed surprised to see them counting money already.

“That’s it?” he said. “You’re just giving us the cash?”

The manager, an older human with short white hair, slid him some forms. “You understand if something happens, we can’t reimburse your accounts.”

“Sure,” Paul said dazedly, sitting down to sign.

A polite knock sounded on the door. “Excuse me, Mr. White,” said the original teller. “Your ten o’clock has arrived. Shall I ask him to wait?”

“Tell him I’ll be free in fifteen minutes,” he said.

There was nothing odd about this conversation. Both their voices and manners were perfectly normal. Nate’s objection was that they were too normal. The teller didn’t bat an eye at the sight of her boss dropping stacks of rubber-banded twenties into a black gym bag. No matter how well trained she was, she wouldn’t see that everyday.

Fuck, he thought. They’re in on it.

Small though the movement was, the bank manager saw him stiffen. A semi-automatic Ruger flashed into his hand, drawn from behind the machine he was using to count the cash. Nate had a millisecond to decide on his reaction. Let himself be taken and see what happened next, or grab one of them to question while the odds against him were relatively low. The female teller was near enough to subdue. Nate slammed her into the wall with his forearm against her neck.

This required more force than he’d intended to use. For a human in her sixties, the teller had fight in her.

Then again, maybe she wasn’t as human as she looked. As she struggled, her age-seamed skin began twinkling.

It took quite a bit of his strength and quickness, but Nate got one of his razor sharp throwing stars up against her neck.

“Drop the gun, Mr. White,” he ordered, “or I puncture your friend’s esophagus.” Wolves were known to be hotdogs. They might believe he’d do it.

“Jesus,” Paul breathed, half a step behind.

“Drop it!” Nate repeated.

“That’s not necessary,” said the teller with a slight smile. “Not when I can so easily drop you.”

She had her hands up against his chest. She whispered a word, and her fingernails grew longer. They weren’t animal nails. From the glimpse he caught, they seemed to be made of brass. Their tips were sharp. Two broke through his cotton shirt to pierce his skin. Blood welled up in hot drops.

“Sleep,” she said.

Nate dropped like he’d been hammered.

Chapter Eleven

NORMALLY, Evina’s kids would have been delighted to spend the day in their grandmom’s shop. Rita’s Treasures was filled with mazelike aisles of treats—including vintage toys.

Today, Abby and Rafiq had caught their mother’s restlessness. Necessarily in protective mode, Evina was jumping at every jingle of the door or shift in the light. Not wanting to ruin her mother’s sales, she’d shooed the kids and herself into the children’s corner in the rear. There she took up a post at the start of the hall that ran between Rita’s storage room and office. The position provided a view of the front and back exits. The back was the door to the alley, where Rita accepted deliveries.

Twice since they’d arrived, Evina had checked that it was locked.

Unaware what was going on, Abby and Rafi shared a two-bottomed wicker chair. Together, they flipped the pages of their favorites from Rita’s collection of picture books. Though Abby was a better reader than her brother, she didn’t seem in the mood to read to him.

“Why can’t we go to school?” she asked.

Rafi looked at her like she was crazy.

“I told you,” Evina said. “We’re taking a family day off today.”

“Then why can’t we go to the movies or the zoo?”

“Maybe we’ll do that later. Right now Grandmom is working.” Evina swept her watchful gaze to the front of the store. Two display windows framed the entrance, the little stages behind them arranged around themes that struck Rita’s fancy. On the left, she’d set up an assortment of quilts and blankets, which she’d draped over colonial style furniture. On the right, two mannequins in 1950’s dress drank tea at a chic brasserie table.

Evina had an uncontrollable urge to confirm once again that the back door was secure.

“Mommy,” Rafi said in the piping tone all adults learned to fear, “is Detective Rivera your boyfriend now?”

“I don’t know,” she said without thinking.

“Why don’t you know? Didn’t he ask if he could be?”

Evina looked at her son and smiled. “Maybe he’ll ask me later.”

“Could you ask him?” Rafi suggested hopefully. “I think he’s nice.”

“That’s girl stuff,” Abby scolded, shoving him with her shoulder. “First Mommy has to decide how much she likes him.”

Rafi shoved her back harder, the pair of them threatening to tip the light chair over.

“Settle down,” Evina said, scanning the store again. Her mother was at the counter, bringing out trays of costume jewelry for a pretty female elf customer. Evina bit the side of her thumbnail. The mention of Nate had snarled her nerves. He’d said he’d call when he got a chance but couldn’t predict when that would be. To her, not knowing when she’d get news was worse than it being overdue.

“To hell with it,” she muttered, rummaging through the purse that hung on her shoulder for her cell. The digits she punched into it weren’t Nate’s. He’d warned her he was turning off his phone.

“Damn it,” she said as the line she’d dialed rang and rang. “Don’t you wolves ever pick up calls?” Voicemail activated, telling her to leave her name and a brief description of her business. Fine, she thought, fed up with being civilized.

“This is Evina Mohajit, calling for Adam Santini. I’ve been dating your pack member, Nate. I know he hasn’t been your favorite person lately, but if your head isn’t shoved too far up your fat alpha ass to listen, he could use your help today. He’s going after the rest of the bogus adoption ring. You know, the ones you were too pigheaded to look for? Oh, and if protecting the people you’re responsible for isn’t enough of an incentive, he stole someone named Rick’s car. If nothing else, you might want to find Nate to get it back.”

Sorry her cell phone didn’t have anything to slam, she pushed the ‘end call’ button.

Rafi and Abby were staring at her like owls.

“All right,” she said, forcing herself to calm. “Mommy lost her temper a little bit. She knows she shouldn’t talk on the phone that way.”

To make matters worse, Rita had heard the outburst too. Her well-plucked eyebrows were raised as her high heels clicked crisply to the back of the store.

“Darling,” she said sweetly, causing Evina to wince inside. This was the tone Rita used to keep her in line as a teenager. “You know I’m happy to have you and the kids with me, but maybe you could try not to scare away customers? That lovely elf was going to buy the thank you presents for her bridesmaids.”

“Sorry,” Evina said. “Maybe she’ll come back later?”

Rita rolled her eyes as the bell on the front door jingled. “Behave yourself, Evina-Monster. I don’t want to ground you.”

Evina grinned at the dredging up of her old nickname. Her amusement didn’t prevent her from checking out the new customer. When she did, her pulse started thudding with something other than anger. The man in the suit might look like he was browsing for silver spoons, but she’d know that arrogant profile anywhere.

She yanked her mother out of the evil doctor’s view.

“Mom,” she said as quietly as she could. “Do you have a key to your news producer friend’s apartment?”

“Yes,” Rita said, thankfully just as hushed. “Why do you want to know?”

Evina met and held her gaze, aware she was about to ask a lot of her. “I want you to take the kids out the back door and drive to his place. Wait. Make them change in your office first. If anyone tries to stop you, I don’t want them to be defenseless. As cubs, they’ll have teeth and claws.”

Rita’s beautifully made-up face was truly worried now. “Darling—”

“Please, Mom, just go as fast as you can.”

“But, sweetie, what are you planning to do?” Rita was already pulling Abby and Rafi gently from their chair. They behaved like tiger cubs in the wild in the face of danger, not uttering a peep, though their eyes were big. Evina knew she’d never loved her mother or her children more.

“I’m going to cover your getaway,” she said.

~

The doctor smiled at her approach—just a little smile, too smug to show his teeth. His glass-gray eyes gleamed with enjoyment beneath his plain brown brows.

“How nice to see you again,” he said. “I’m so glad I have different instructions for dealing with you today. My name is Clarence, by the way. Clarence Beaumont, M.D.”

He held out his hand. The air around it shimmered like a heat mirage from the power he’d fed into it. Evina kept her hand behind her back. She had better uses for it than falling for his trick.

“What do you want?” she asked flatly.

“Merely to invite you to a party we’re throwing.” His offer to shake refused, Beaumont examined his fingernails. “You’ve been quite the little thorn in our sides, Evina. First that vision, then recognizing me at the strip mall. I’d say you have a knack for sticking your kitty nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He knew about the vision? Only the cops in Nate’s squad should have known about her report of that. Had she screwed up by calling Nate’s alpha?

“I’m not really a party girl,” she said.

She heard the sound she’d been waiting for, the quiet click of her mother and the kids closing the back door. She prayed Dr. Beaumont was too much of an egotist to think he needed reinforcements in the alley. He certainly didn’t seem to understand what an alpha tigress could do.

She flexed the hand she was holding behind her back. “Maybe you should go.”

Beaumont smiled more deeply and began whispering.

He didn’t get past the first two words of his chant. Evina lashed out hard, raking four long tiger claws down his face. She gouged him deeper than she ever had a human being, actual bone scraping her claw tips. Beaumont cried out as blood flew.

He didn’t cry out loud enough for her. The wounds she’d made were filling with light so thick it resembled glowing gelatin. Evina gaped in dismay as the rips sealed themselves.

“That,” he said coldly, touching fingertips to his cheek, “wasn’t a smart thing to do.”

She wouldn’t allow herself to run; she had too much to stand and fight for. She leaped at him, growling for courage, her left hand clawed now as well. Beaumont didn’t crash over like she expected. To her amazement, he braced and shoved and she went flying through the air instead.

She landed on a collection of bentwood chairs, their legs snapping like kindling under her. Mostly unhurt, she jumped upward onto her feet. Beaumont was already on her, his speed as fast as a shifter’s, though his energy signature wasn’t animal. She tried slashing his face again, but he caught her swing with his arm.

Hitting something so unmoving sent a reverb along her bones.

Wishing she had more training, she kicked out as hard as she could with her sneakered foot. He went sailing this time, the front display case shattering under him as he fell. Shards of glass bristled from his face and neck like a horror movie, bleeding some but not much. Also like a horror movie, she hadn’t knocked him out. At least his movements were sluggish as he began yanking out slivers.

More glowing light filled the injuries.

Knowing she’d fight better in tiger form, Evina closed her eyes and ordered her fear to settle. She needed to change fast, or she’d lose her advantage.

She didn’t calm fast enough. The energy of her beast had just begun to brighten when Beaumont started up his blasted chanting again. Her eyes snapped open. He was up, attacking her too fast to evade. He slapped his left hand around her wrist. His right—the one she’d refused to shake because he’d pumped it full of magic—took hold of her clawed middle finger. Evina panted as he whispered faster, her inner tigress beginning to panic right along with her. She wasn’t an expert, but she thought he was speaking High Fae. She struggled to get away, but his grip was iron. He pulled her finger like he meant to wrench it off, his clear gray eyes blazing white fire at her.

In the end, it wasn’t her finger he ripped free; it was her tiger claw.

Her tiger’s power ran out of her like water, her hands immediately reverting to human. The finger whose claw he’d yanked off dripped blood from its bare nail bed. It throbbed like a mother, thought that didn’t especially matter.

Beaumont curled his fist around his grisly prize. “Thank you,” he said, only a bit breathless. “I could have done without the fight, but this is exactly what I needed.”

Clearly, he’d stolen more from her than a claw. Evina was almost too weak to stand, as dizzy as if she were about to faint. He pulled a pair of electrum-plated handcuffs from the jacket of his bloodied Brooks Brothers suit, the metal spelled so that a shifter—no matter how strong—wouldn’t be able to break them. Her strength was hardly an issue. When she tried to tug from his hold, her knees gave way and she fell over.

“Now, now,” Beaumont said, crouching down to snap on the cuffs. “You have to know there’s no point in resisting.”

~

Nate didn’t know how long he was out. He woke groggy and stark naked in some kind of metal container. There was enough room for him to sit up but not to stretch his legs. As he pushed onto his butt, he recognized the enclosure as a dangerous animal crate, the sort Shifter Control used to transport weres who, for whatever reason, weren’t mastering themselves. The front of the crate was an electrum-plated grill, very likely enchanted to prevent him from busting out. The view through the bars was of a quiet forest. The trunks were as tall as redwoods, isolated splashes of scarlet declaring autumn was on its way. Muted sunbeams angled through the leaves, adding to the sacred feel. Nate had been set down on mossy ground in a glade of trees. Wind whispered through the branches, and somewhere not far away a stream clattered over stones.

He wished the stream were closer. He was thirsty. Unable to do anything about that, he sniffed at his surroundings. Though he couldn’t see them in his restricted field of view, people were around, their scents mingling too much to pick out individuals. The composition of the earth smelled familiar—the minerals that were in it, the plants it supported. He thought this might be Wolf Woods, a game preserve outside the city limits that had been established for werewolves to hunt in. If this was true, it was good news for him. Years of running here with his pack when the moon was full had acquainted him with the terrain.

More because he had to try than because he believed it would do any good, Nate braced his back against the rear of the crate and kicked out at the grating. Pain shot up his legs at the force he used, but the charmed metal didn’t budge.

“Well,” said a female voice he didn’t recognize. “Our special guest is up.”

A young woman crouched in front of his crate, joined a moment later by two very familiar men. All three had the same pale red hair and creamy skin, all the same jewel green eyes. They might only be part fae, but seen together, in this naturally magical setting, they rather stole his breath. None of them seemed put off by his nakedness.

“Ellen Owen,” he said huskily.

“On the nose,” she agreed, tapping her delicate proboscis. “And these are my cousins Blue and Brone, whom you’ve already met.”

“I’d offer to shake,” Nate said. “But you’d have to open this door.”

Ellen Owen’s smile bared small and twinkling snow-white teeth. “I’m glad you’ve kept your sense of humor. You’ve no idea how amused I was when you showed up at their shop, trying to lure me into the open. How is your cousin Tad, by the way? Still mooning over me from high school?”

“Ellen,” the voice of Vasili Galina interrupted. “Come away from there. It isn’t safe to tease him.”

The annoyance that simultaneously crossed the trio’s faces, as if scorn could be synchronized, didn’t bode well for Vasili’s future happiness. Ellen rose, leaving her cousins where they were. Light as a feather, she pattered across the mossy ground to Vasili, twining her slender arms behind his neck. The invitation to kiss her was clear. Vasili accepted with an enthusiasm that made Nate uncomfortable. As if he couldn’t get enough of her, the Russian’s hands slid down her back to pull her hips up and against him.

His girlfriend wore a white silk kaftan—not exactly stylish but pretty enough on her. The shimmery cloth was embroidered with woodland flowers and belted at her waist by the sort of girdle princesses wore in fairytales. Hers was fashioned from fine chainmail links, its three dangling tassels finished off by pink pearls. As Vasili groped her and groaned, it became apparent she wasn’t wearing underwear.

Ellen pushed back from him before he seemed remotely ready to let go. She touched his lips with her fingertips. “You’re sweet to be protective of me,” she said.

Nate half believed she meant it—and he knew better. Vasili had no problem at all. “You’re my most precious treasure. You gave me the courage to dream bigger.”

If Nate had ever doubted Vasili killed his brother, he gave up doubting then. He also stopped wondering why Vasili’s minders at the safe house had conveniently slept through his departure. The bank teller had demonstrated how easily Ellen and her cohorts arranged such things.

Vasili must have decided he could fill that alpha throne after all.

Blue and Brone were smirking at Vasili’s declaration of devotion to their cousin. They stopped, wiping their faces clean, when Ellen turned to them. Nate assumed she wasn’t jailbait, but she looked like a teenage sprite. She had her hands on Vasili’s shoulders and hovered on tiptoe. “Have we heard from Clarence and the others yet?”

Her cousins stood. Though Ellen seemed younger, it was clear—at least to Nate—that she was in charge of them. “On their way,” Blue said. “Clarence completed his job without a hitch.”

A groan jerked Nate’s head to the left. Another crate like his sat there.

“Fuck,” grated a voice he recognized as Paul’s. As big as the tiger was, he had to be squished in the carrier. His body bumped its walls as he squirmed around to sit up. “What the hell is going on?”

Nate supposed this settled the issue of whether Evina’s ex was involved.

“Lovely.” Ellen Owen beamed, ignoring his question. “All our ducklings are lining up.”

Her face was so beautiful with happiness shining from it that Vasili’s eyes weren’t the only ones to blink.

“She doesn’t mean you well,” Nate said calmly, pitching his words to carry to the besotted man. “If you think she does, you’re a bigger fool than you look.”

Vasili gawped like he was speaking an extremely foreign tongue.

“Oh, tut,” Ellen scolded sweetly. She waved toward her tall redheaded relatives. “Give Detective Rivera a shock with the cattle prod. In fact, give both of our guests one.”

Neither Nate nor Paul enjoyed that much.

“You’re her stalking horse,” he panted once he’d recovered. “You’re going to take the fall for killing your brother so that her crew can step into the power vacuum his death left.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Vasili said down his nose. “Ellen is just a girl. She doesn’t have a crew. She’s helping me take over from Ivan.”

“Really? Didn’t that girl’s people remove the evidence of you killing your brother and the accountant? Don’t you think they’ll put it back if you being blamed becomes convenient? Wasn’t it her idea to embezzle from Ivan in the first place?”

Nate’s guesses would hardly hold up in court. They were, however, accurate enough to narrow Vasili’s eyes. Observing this, Ellen grabbed the cattle prod from Blue—he of the longer hair and the surfer drawl—and poked the business end into Nate herself.

The zap she gave him was twice what the others had. He was lucky he was a shifter and resilient. Otherwise, she would have stopped his heart.

When she pulled the prod back, she tossed her head loftily. “Dogs like you don’t understand true love.”

Nate saw that her using dog as an insult startled Vasili, considering he was a wolf himself. “I understand that being part fae doesn’t make you any less of a two-faced ho.”

Ellen’s growl of rage gurgled in her throat.

“Uh,” Paul said from his neighboring crate. “Maybe you should shut up.”

His comment gave Ellen a chance to pull herself together, sparing her from betraying more of her character. “Yes,” she said coolly, satisfying her temper by rapping his cage’s grill. “Maybe you should shut up.”

Since his heart was still skipping beats, Nate decided to comply. Convincing Vasili to switch sides had been a long shot at best anyway.

Brone and Blue went motionless—listening, he thought. “The others are near,” Brone said.

Focusing his own ears, Nate heard the sound of approaching feet. They were too noisy to belong to weres, snapping twigs and scuffing leaves as they went. An energy that was almost fae preceded them. The current wasn’t steady, seeming to surge and ebb unpredictably. Despite the danger from the cattle prod, Nate pressed his face to the grate to get a better look.

Perhaps a dozen people tramped into the beautiful dappled glade. Mr. White and the bank teller, whom Nate hadn’t noticed there before, greeted them. The newcomers were strangers. If he hadn’t sensed their group power, he’d have sworn they were human. They looked like any suburban dweller’s neighbors. One wore a postman’s uniform, another a waitress’s stereotypical white shirt and black trousers. They weren’t ugly, by any means, but none displayed a tenth of Ellen Owen’s beauty or glamour.

Interestingly, though not surprisingly, they inclined their heads to her.

Nate saw Vasili notice. The Russian gangster gave a little start. Maybe Nate’s accusations hadn’t fallen on totally deaf ears. Ellen must have marked the reaction too, because her manner turned sugary again.

“How kind of you to come!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands girlishly. “Vasili and I really appreciate your help. Now we only need the last two.”

Nate’s chest grew very tight. He suspected he wouldn’t enjoy discovering who the last two were.

He smelled Evina before he heard her: that beloved scent like Indian spices and woman. A man in a blood-spattered suit led her by the elbow into the clearing. One of her fingers bled, which increased his uneasiness. The injury didn’t seem to be healing. When she shoved a few errant curls from her face, he couldn’t help noticing how shaken and tired she was. Though not as gory as her captor, her yellow shirt had spots of blood on it.

“Beaumont,” Ellen said in a lower, richer voice to the new arrival. Sleeping together, Nate thought immediately. “Congratulations and welcome.”

Beaumont grinned. “Tigress put up a fight. Happily, thanks to some excellent spellwork, I set her straight about who’s in charge.”

Ellen’s part-fae suburban groupies—Nate wasn’t sure what else to call them—chuckled in appreciation of Beaumont’s wit. The trick the teller had pulled on Nate at the bank had been impressive. He could be wrong, but none of these folks gave off a sense of being on that level. So why would they laugh with Beaumont as if they were equal powers?

A terrible idea occurred to him. What if this gang was organized around more than acquiring and selling magical baby parts? Maybe money wasn’t the main motivation. Maybe they were sampling the goods.

If you’d been born with a little fae blood but not enough for power, you might think you were entitled to steal some.

He let out a sound of dismay. The sound was soft, but Evina’s head swung toward the crate that held him. She gasped, recognizing he was in it.

Hang in there, sweetheart, he thought, not daring to speak to her.

Paul wasn’t so restrained. “Evina?” he asked from the carrier next to Nate’s. “What the fuck is all this?” Understandably confused, he rattled the bars that kept him imprisoned. “Where is my son, bitch? What did you do to Malik?”

This was demanded of Ellen and not his ex.

Ellen still held the cattle prod. Seeming not to view Paul’s outburst as worth responding to, she resting its tip in the dirt like an elegant walking stick. Her cousin Blue kicked Paul’s cage on her behalf.

“Thank you,” she said as the firefighter fell quiet. “Shall we get on with the ritual? Blue and Brone, you handle the tiger. Beaumont, perhaps you and Mrs. Norman would be good enough to take charge of our guest from the RPD.”

Mrs. Norman was the bank teller. Nate was grateful to be free of the box but less so to be in her care again. Beaumont shifting to him left Evina unguarded. Mr. White, the bank manager, assumed the empty place at her side. Was White as juiced as his teller? Could Evina overpower him and escape? Nate met her weary gaze. Why was she so tired? What had Beaumont done to her?

At Ellen’s mention of a ritual, all the part fae’s excitement shot up a notch. It jumped again when she began drawing magical symbols in the soil with her cattle prod. The symbols circumscribed a circle, which she gracefully stepped inside. The faces of her gang grew avid, not so innocuous then. She held her slender hand out to Vasili, who stepped into the ring with her. He seemed dazzled, his earlier doubts forgotten. Ellen’s fair skin was sparkling nearly as much as a true faerie. She was so lovely it hurt to look at her. When she spoke, her voice was as clear and cool as brook water.

“Take your places, you who have sworn to me.”

Everyone who wasn’t engaged in guard duty stepped to one of the runes she’d drawn.

“From where does our power come?” Ellen asked.

“From the blood,” her acolytes answered in unison.

“And who channels that power to you?”

“You, Mistress,” they all said.

“Fuck,” Nate muttered under his breath, disliking the way the air beneath the trees was thickening and buzzing. Sensing he was going to try something, Beaumont took a tighter grip on his right elbow. On his left, Mrs. Norman’s bright brass nails slid out from their sheaths, pricking his arm in warning. A bead of blood welled as she broke skin.

“Hush,” the teller said, compelling him as she had before.

Ellen drew a small jeweled dagger from a hidden pocket in her silk gown. Apparently, she had similar taste in knives to Ivan the Terrible. This one could have been taken straight from his collection—and perhaps it had been. Its three-edged blade shimmered silver and gold: pure electrum from the liquid look of the reflections. “Is the sacrifice prepared?”

“It is,” said her followers.

With a tiny smirk, Vasili looked straight at Paul.

Given what he so obviously expected Paul’s fate to be, Nate shouldn’t have felt sorry about what happened next. Vasili stood to his girlfriend’s left. Ellen held the gaudy dagger in her right hand. She put her left hand on Vasili’s shoulder, holding him in place as she turned to him. He smiled down at her like she’d hung his personal moon . . . right up until the moment she slid the blade butter-easy between his ribs.

She shoved it deeper as he fell to his knees.

“Ellen?” he said as if begging her to deny what she’d done.

Silent, she twisted the blade just as he’d done to his brother.

The light ran out of his eyes as the heart blood ran from his chest. He toppled onto his side, soaking the earth beneath.

Shit, Nate thought, because he couldn’t say it out loud.

Aside from being slightly out of breath, the delicate murderess appeared unmoved by what she’d done. She straightened, turning away from the fallen body to face east again. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing by filling her lungs with air. She stretched her arms slightly outward from her sides. Her right hand kept a grip on the knife, her fist coated in red as if she’d dipped it to the wrist. Her left hand caught the tails of her chainmail belt. Her thumb ran up the rings to the three pink pearls, very much as if the chain were a rosary.

Nate had witnessed a pureblood fae doing magic on a previous case. When Ellen began her chant, her High Fae sounded as good as his. If what Vasili believed was true, and Ellen Owen was only a sixteenth fae, she’d taken her self-improvement seriously.

His mouth went dry as power drew to her, seeming to funnel upward from the blood darkened soil. The cornsilk strands of her pale red hair lifted in a breeze that blew on no one but her. The breeze grew stronger and stronger, until her hair sailed nearly straight behind her.

Nate’s eyes sought Evina’s on the opposite side of this wild display. Her expression was as dismayed as his. He remembered stories he’d heard about Wolf Woods: that back when their fae forefathers created Resurrection, these giant trees had grown up overnight. Supposedly, their roots ran so deep they took their sustenance from Faerie itself. He’d thought being here would be an advantage, because his beast knew this place so well. He’d forgotten the local enchantments might have their own agenda. From what he knew, Faerie wasn’t a land of sweetness. In that realm, blood sacrifice earned rewards.

Ellen was about to reward her followers. She thrust out her hands, fingers spread, killing knife dropping to the ground. Light shot out from her like the spokes of a wheel, each ray terminating at one of her acolytes. Their bodies jerked, and a chorus of moans ran around the circle. The suburban gangsters’ expressions were orgasmic.

For about five seconds, all of them sparkled from head to toe.

Then Ellen dropped her hands. To judge by the way she continued shining, this divvying up of power wasn’t meant to be equal.

Her gemmy green eyes opened, her attention zeroing in on Paul. He tried to shrink back in his minders’ grip. Nate didn’t blame him. The part fae smiled like she knew a joke that wasn’t going to amuse him.

Without warning, her aura flared as bright as a camera strobe. Caught unprepared, the flash momentarily blinded Nate. When his vision cleared, a different person stood where Ellen Owen had. This new person was taller, blonder, and more imposing, though she wore the same clothes. Despite the differences, she was familiar. Nate and Evina sucked in matching gasps of shock.

The new priestess rolled her shoulders, the glow in her cool blue eyes deeply satisfied. “That’s better,” she commented. “Glamours get so sticky after you wear them for a while.”

“Iseult?” Paul said, evidently having trouble processing his mother-in-law’s presence. “What— Why are you— Jesus.”

He shut his mouth and swallowed. Enjoying herself, Iseult laughed huskily. “Really, Paul? You had no idea I was playing a double game?”

Paul shook his head. “Is . . . does Liane know?”

Iseult didn’t like that question. Her merry expression cooled to that of the very controlled woman Nate had met this morning. “Liane rarely knows what’s good for her.”

The answer seemed to hearten Paul. He appealed to her as the more ordinary female who’d shared a house with him. “Iseult, please don’t hurt Malik. I’ll do anything you want. He’s your daughter’s son. He’s your own grandchild.”

It occurred to Nate that maybe little Malik wasn’t the grandson Iseult wanted. To her, a handsome alpha firefighter might not have seemed a catch, not when it meant Liane’s offspring would have even less fae blood.

Chances were, she regretted her own past dalliance with a cat.

Her lips thinned as she considered Paul. “Put this one back in his cage,” she said to Blue and Brone. “We’ll save him for later.”

“Don’t!” Evina burst out, unable to help defending the father of her children.

With an air of amusement, Iseult turned. “Very laudable. Speaking up for the man who threw you over for my daughter. I’m sure you’d laugh if you knew how many times she confided her jealousy to me. ‘Evina is so strong, Mother. She’s not afraid of anything. Sometimes I have no idea why Paul traded her for me.’ As if Liane being weaker didn’t explain it very well!”

Evina grimaced. Possibly, Iseult’s theory struck too close to her own. “Liane loves Paul,” she said. “She won’t thank you if you harm her husband.”

“She won’t thank me if she knows,” Iseult said. “If she doesn’t, she’ll recover. In time, I’ll steer the poor grieving child to a more beneficial match.”

Nate sighed inside himself. Iseult had covered her bases quite neatly.

Chapter Twelve

AS a tiger, Evina had never been to Wolf Woods. They’d passed the sign for the preserve when Beaumont drove in, her presence hidden behind the tinted windows of his black Escalade. Because the moon wasn’t full, the rutted dirt parking lot was empty. She remembered hearing other races could use the grounds when wolves weren’t hunting, so perhaps Beaumont and his cohorts had spelled the entrance to repel them.

There wasn’t anyone to yell to for help, even if she’d had energy.

In an odd twist on gentlemanly behavior, Beaumont took her cuffed hands to keep her from falling from the tall vehicle. The moment she was out of the SUV, she felt the area’s Otherness. Her skin prickled with it, but not unpleasantly. The place smelled like Nate—woodsy and mysterious. Evina wasn’t sure when it had come to pass, but for her Nate represented comfort and safety. She felt steadier as soon as her sneakers hit the ground. She wasn’t up to her usual self, but she no longer felt in danger of crumpling.

Because it wouldn’t do to let Beaumont know that, twice she tripped and fell sprawling. The second time, she worked a few I’m-a-helpless-little-woman tears into her eyes. Rita would have been proud. Though Beaumont cursed, he unlocked the cuffs, figuring they weren’t helping her balance and probably not in the mood to keep hauling her onto her feet.

“Don’t make me put these back on,” he warned.

Maybe she should have tried to run. Instead, she rubbed her wrists and nodded a curt thank you. She’d been infected by Nate’s play-this-out attitude. If she had a chance to rescue Malik or just find out where he was, she’d hightail out of these woods then.

With a plodding gait to show Beaumont she was harmless, she preceded him down the paw-marked path into the forest without further assistance.

Seeing Nate held captive was a blow. Privately, she’d been counting on him rescuing her. Seeing Paul as well . . . and then Iseult had her brain spinning. If the Easter Bunny had hopped into the clearing, she wouldn’t have batted one eyelash.

She wondered if Nate had a plan. Somehow, she didn’t think she should hold her breath. When his eyes met hers, they were shadowed like they’d been that night in the pie section at Holy Foods. But maybe she didn’t care whether he knew precisely how to get them out of this. She felt better with him around anyway.

She hoped he didn’t mind that she’d spoken against Iseult hurting Paul.

Her objection hadn’t done any good. The two redheaded men stuffed Paul back into the animal crate, jolting him with a cattle prod when he fought. She winced but didn’t know how to stop it. Paul was alpha. Of course he resisted.

“Not to be trite,” Nate said to Iseult with amazing calmness, “but you won’t get away with this. Harming a cop or anyone a cop cares about brings a world of hurt crashing down on people’s heads. My pack is just the beginning of what you’ll have to worry about. The entire RPD will be up in arms.”

The stir of discomfort that ran through some of the others didn’t touch Iseult. “You’ve gone rogue,” she said serenely. “That gets the RPD up in arms as well.”

“Excuse me?” Nate responded.

“Everyone in your precinct knows you haven’t been yourself lately. You’ve been at loggerheads with your alpha for some time now. Defying orders. Sleeping with tigers, for goodness sake! Your quirky dispatcher Dana filled me in on the scuttlebutt.”

Nate was too shocked to hide his horror. “She wouldn’t.”

Iseult stroked the dangling tails of her chainmail belt. “Of course she would. Her little secret makes her so lonely. I took her to dinner and then to bed. She told me everything I wanted to know. Someone should tell her all those anti-hex spells she uses cancel each other out. I barely had to charm her.”

Nate shut his gaping jaw. “My pack will figure out I was working your kidnapping plot.”

“What kidnapping plot?” Iseult pouted prettily, looking for the moment more like her youthful alter ego. “Mr. White doesn’t know about any kidnapping plot. Neither will Paul soon enough. My daughter I can handle, and you were kind enough not to inform your lieutenant, just as requested.”

“You spelled me,” he said flatly.

Iseult shrugged. “Not very hard. You were disinclined to turn to him already. No, I’m afraid you bringing Evina here, to your traditional hunting grounds, will look like more of your rogue behavior. I suppose your pack will be surprised about you changing without a moon, but there are indications you have latent alpha tendencies. Dana certainly thinks so, and it would explain the trouble you’ve been having fitting into your place. Mrs. Sand here is a psychologist.” Iseult waved toward one of her female cronies. “She’s convinced that sort of stress could drive a wolf right over the brink of sanity. I find it . . . elegant that everything you’ve been working on will be discredited.”

A muscle in Nate’s cheek bunched. A second later, he wrenched against the hold Beaumont and the woman with the brass claws had on him. The attempt came without warning, and Nate was powerful. The woman was stronger than she looked. She was able to hold Nate almost without Beaumont’s help. Nate kicked at Beaumont’s legs, but aside from earning him a curse, that didn’t gain him ground either.

The straining of his muscular body reminded Evina—and a few of the other women, apparently—that Nate was naked and very nicely put together. Iseult seemed to like the visual too, though for different reasons.

“Just look at you,” she exclaimed. “Who could doubt you’d turn killer?”

Her comment put an end to his struggling, if not his defiance.

“If I turn killer,” he growled, the sound low enough to stand hair on end, “I think you know whose throat I’ll clamp my jaws on first.”

Iseult laughed, seeming not to mind the threat. “You hold onto that belief. It will make all of this easier. Brone?” She turned to the shorter-haired redhead. “Could you collect Evina’s gift for the detective from our good doctor?”

Her gift was the talon Beaumont had ripped from her. As Beaumont dropped it into Iseult’s palm, its edges began to glow. Evina swallowed queasily. The claw was pink from her blood smearing it.

Brone and Blue must have known what was coming next. Without requiring an order, they helped Nate’s guards force him into Iseult’s circle. As he fought, his bare feet scraped through her markings. The magic she’d put into them was so strong they immediately reformed. Once he was in front of her, the guards shoved Nate onto his knees. This wasn’t enough for Brone. His big hand pushed Nate’s head into an attitude of respect.

“Be still,” Iseult snapped, a strong pulse of power in it.

Nate grimaced but could only strain in place.

“Now,” Iseult said, “we’re going to put a little part of your lover into the heart of you.”

Chanting rapidly again, she held up the claw like an offering to the redwood’s gods. A beam of sunlight fell through the branches onto her palm—not by accident, Evina thought.

Faeries drew power from nature, so she supposed this was appropriate. Iseult closed her eyes. As if the claw were a mirror, the sunbeam bent, striking Nate dead center in his chest. He twitched, his aura igniting the way her followers’ had earlier. Whatever sensations this inspired, he didn’t welcome them. He groaned, his body straining the few millimeters her compulsion allowed it.

The light disappeared, sucking abruptly into his center.

He shuddered like this had hurt. His claws and both sets of canines were distended. His eyes glowed so brightly the radiance lit his face.

He glared at Iseult like he hated her.

Her hand was now empty.

“Stay,” she said, giving him the same signal one would a dog.

She and the four who’d dragged him into the circle stepped out of it. Nate and the fallen corpse remained in there alone. Evina looked at Nate, not understanding what had been done to him, only that it wasn’t good. He’d begun to tremble, his hands dropping to the ground a few feet before his knees. The earth his fingers sank in was muddied by the Russian’s blood.

“I’m going to . . . kill you,” Nate swore through gritted fangs.

The others were filing out of the clearing. Two stooped to grab the handles on Paul’s carrier, their shoulders straining at his weight. Evina didn’t know where they were going; they took a different path from the one she’d been led in on. Perhaps they didn’t want to be around when whatever was happening to Nate finished. Perhaps they had more nefarious deeds to see to today.

Evina didn’t think she cared as long as they left her and Nate alone. That they were a team, and maybe had been one from the start, she sensed in her soul. If the Tiger Queen of the Universe had offered to find her a bondmate, Evina would have accepted none but Nate.

Liane’s mother was the last to leave. She looked back at Evina over her shoulder. “You can run,” she said, “but it won’t matter. He’ll hunt you down no matter where you go.”

“You run,” Evina retorted, anger stiffening her. “Nate isn’t the only one who’d enjoy ripping you limb from limb.”

Iseult’s hooded smile of enjoyment wasn’t comforting.

Comforting or not, as soon as she was gone, Evina ran to Nate. She touched his shoulder, which was now slick with sweat.

“God,” he said, his back contorting uncomfortably.

“Nate,” she crooned, trying to soothe him. “Sweetheart, how can I help?”

“Maybe you should go.”

“I won’t! Not when they were stupid enough to leave us alone.”

He laughed shakily. They both knew Iseult being stupid was unlikely. When Nate looked up, his eyes were gold, their normally dark color bleeding into his wolf’s. “Honey, she gave me your power to change without the moon, and she charmed me to use it. I don’t think I can stop myself from shifting. She expects me to kill you.”

“Then she’s doubly stupid. Werewolves aren’t mindless beasts. Your human consciousness is the boss. It would never let your wolf hurt me.”

Swallowing a cry, Nate reared back onto folded legs. Wolf hair rolled in a wave down his chest. In this new position, she saw he had an erection, which disconcerted her. She shook off the distraction. The shift affected hormones, and his had to be haywire.

“This . . . doesn’t feel like a normal shift,” he said, speaking with difficulty around his changing teeth. “She sent me mental pictures when she put your power into me. I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold onto myself. I can sense the human in me fading.”

He panted, doglike, bones popping in his face and arms. “Evina, you have to change into your tiger. Your cat is bigger than my wolf. It can face it down. It can stop me from hurting you.”

Evina didn’t want to tell him the truth, but she had to. She cupped the misshapen structure of his cheek. “I can’t change, Nate. That’s why Beaumont stole my claw. I’m stuck in human form until it grows back.”

“How long will that take?”

“I couldn’t say. Nothing like this has happened to me before. I do know my power to heal myself is linked to my power to shift.”

“Crap.” The word sounded strange in his lengthening muzzle. He was right about this not being normal. She’d seen footage of wolves shifting. When the moon was full, it happened like it did for tigers, in a quick and painless wave of light.

Nate fumbled in the dirt around him, searching the mud until his fur-covered fist came up holding the knife Iseult had used to kill Vasili. Despite knowing how much Nate cared for her, the intensity with which he gripped it, blade pointed straight at her, sent a spurt of alarm through her.

“She wants this to look as if she has no hand in it,” he said. “As if I went crazy, and hunted my girlfriend down. Take the dagger, Evina. I don’t want your blood on my hands.”

“I’m not going to kill you!”

Another spasm of pain gripped him. He groaned as he fought the advancing transformation. The spasm passed, but not before altering him even more. “Do it for your kids,” he gasped, barely intelligible. “They need their mother.”

He folded her fingers around the hilt a second before his hands finished shifting into paws. He fell onto them, a monstrous half-wolf, half-man creature. He shook his furry self as if he were wet. When the shaking finished, he was completely wolf. Evina scrambled backward instinctively. Nate’s canine eyes had an instant to plead with her. Then, like a curtain dropping, all the human awareness slipped out of them.

His wolf was staring at her now.

Its lips pulled back, its hackles rising in a clear threat display. It seemed huge, like maybe her tiger wasn’t that much bigger.

Her fist tightened on the knife. Carefully, so as not to make his wolf think she was attacking, she pushed onto her feet.

Nate’s ears flattened, his growl trailing down into decibels only a beast could hear.

Evina’s heart pounded with a complicated panic. She couldn’t end his life, not on the chance that he might kill her, maybe not even if his teeth had been at throat. Her attitude might be ill considered, but he was still Nate to her.

“I love you,” she said, far from sure he could understand. “I hope you’ll forgive me if this turns out badly, but I just can’t kill you.”

His golden eyes held no comprehension, only a predator’s sharp focus. Unable to choose differently, Evina did the very thing she knew was a bad idea. She spun around and ran, instantly turning herself into prey.

~

Adrenaline was an amazing bracer. Though she couldn’t change, it pumped Evina up to nearly her normal vigor. Firefighters trained to stay in shape physically. Evina was glad for that, though—admittedly—most of her running on two legs was after the twins.

She also didn’t spend much time leaping over fallen trunks or ducking low branches. I should, she thought, trying to hold onto her sense of humor. This is an amazing cardio workout.

The thought of putting her crew of macho tigers through it cheered her up a little.

Nate’s wolf seemed to follow her without effort. Wolves loped, she remembered, covering ground steadily rather than at a run. Because of this, Evina could get ahead of him, though he always caught up again. He never seemed winded when he did. In truth, his wolf appeared to be enjoying the pursuit.

Evina was pretty sure he could keep it up longer than she could.

She tried disguising her scent along the path of a brook. All she accomplished was giving him a chance to slake his thirst. The part of him that was Nate remembered her smell too well not to pick it up again.

Evina’s weary legs began to scream at her. She considered climbing a tree and trying to wait him out. Maybe someone would find them, or Iseult’s spell would wear off. Then she discovered she couldn’t change even enough to extend her remaining claws. Without them to dig into the bark, she doubted she’d haul herself very far. She was too tired now to do it with human hands.

She didn’t bother cursing herself for not getting the idea sooner. She just wished Nate wouldn’t look at her like he was checking an oven’s window each time he caught up to her.

Piping hot cherry pie wouldn’t have distracted him from her now.

She thought she heard him in the distance, his paw pads not quite silent on the forest floor. Tigers liked to lay in wait for unsuspecting prey, hoping for a chance to pounce onto it. Wolves used surprise as well, but were just as good at chasing an animal until they exhausted it.

That thought pushed Evina from her latest breath-catching pause. At first, she’d tried to run toward the parking lot. Each time she had, Nate’s wolf had steered her deeper into the woods. Now all she knew was that she was heading generally north.

She couldn’t remember how many acres Wolf Woods enclosed. Thousands, she had a sick feeling.

A small bird startled from the thick undergrowth, brown wings whirring as it took flight. Evina stumbled but caught herself on a vine. The sound of Nate’s paw strikes suddenly thudded faster, like he’d decided he’d tired her out enough, and it was time to close in.

When she tried to put on a burst of speed, her trembling thighs simply refused her.

Come on, she exhorted. Do this for Rafi and Abby. Do it for Nate, if it comes to that. She couldn’t imagine how he’d live with the knowledge that he’d eaten her. He’d go mad, precisely as Iseult hoped.

Before the pep talk had a chance to help, the forest parted before her, taking her and her shaky muscles by surprise. She skidded to an awkward halt on the gritty shore of a dark green lake. The lake wasn’t big, maybe a hundred feet in diameter. Trees enclosed it, pines and redwoods, their canopy broken up by patches of velvety blue sky.

Goosebumps rolled across Evina’s otherwise overheated skin. In the center of lake sat a large white boulder. It looked like raw marble, its sugary surface unstained by the water’s rich green algae. She half expected to see Excalibur sticking out of it. This wasn’t an ordinary swimming hole in the woods. This was one of those spots where the veil between Resurrection and Faerie thinned.

Can you help me? she asked whatever deity ruled the place.

She certainly needed help. Stumbling onto this little lakeshore left her with nowhere else to run.

A quiet thrashing from the ferns behind her warned her Nate’s wolf had arrived. In spite of everything, when she spun around to face him, she found him beautiful.

His beast froze where it was, perhaps fifteen feet from her. It seemed wary, maybe waiting to verify how worn out she’d become. She was on two feet, and that made her taller. Height intimidated tigers. In the wild, they usually only attacked humans who were bent over or crouching. She didn’t know if the same held true for wolves.

She had the knife Nate had forced on her. She’d tucked it, jeweled hilt down, in the back pocket of her now-filthy khaki pants. Left with little choice, she pulled it out and showed the blade to him.

“I can hurt you with this,” she said as steadily as she could. “It’s sharper than teeth, and it’s electrum. You won’t like the feel of it.”

Nate’s wolf cocked its head to the side as if wondering what to make of her strange noises. Reminding herself to show no fear, Evina took a step forward.

Nate’s wolf skittered exactly one step back.

With that small reaction, everything clicked for her.

She was alpha to him. Even exhausted, even unable to change into tiger form, her will had the power to master his. Both sides of her nature knew how to dominate, not just the furry one.

The ability was what had driven Paul away, and likely other men in her past as well. She’d learned to soften it, to keep her superiority under wraps unless she needed it for her job. Right then, she didn’t have the luxury of pretending to be one iota less than she was.

She stepped toward Nate again.

This time his wolf growled at her, hunkering down on its forelegs. She locked her eyes on the beast’s, pushing her resolve at it. Nate’s wolf wriggled as if it were going to spring.

“Stay,” she said, low and hard.

The wolf snarled out a protest but obeyed, its dark gray hackles puffed up around its neck. Drawing her confidence together, Evina kept the knife up in front of her. This was her claw. She’d cut him with it if she had to. Perhaps Nate’s wolf sensed her seriousness. It whimpered and laid down on its belly.

Evina continued stalking toward it, and it continued cowering. Though her heart thumped in her throat at its more-than-natural wolf size, when she reached it, she put her sneaker on top of its neck and pushed.

She didn’t do this gently. She shoved the wolf’s head into the bracken with all her weight and strength. It tried to move, but she wouldn’t let it escape her pin.

“You’re my wolf,” she said, the words coming out as harsh as any she’d ever spoken. “You follow my lead, and you do what I say.”

The wolf rolled one worried gold eye at her. It would fight her if she gave it an opening, and it had the strength to win. Nate had proved willing to switch roles in bed, but that was play, and his human had been in charge. Even as a human, Nate had issues about other people exerting authority over him. Would his wolf recognize her as someone worthy of dominating him?

She thrust her doubts from her awareness, ignoring the possible cost of succeeding. Doing this was the only option for both of them.

“Change,” she ordered, channeling everything within her that had been born to lead. “Walk on two feet again.”

Her will rushed out of her like a sold thing. She felt it shake her stomach, felt it shoot down her arms . . .

He shuddered.

And then he changed the way shifters should. A ring of radiant light rolled down him from nose to tail, like a magician’s hoop being waved over him. Nate was back, folded up on the ground with his face hidden on his outstretched arms. His naked skin shone with perspiration, his ribs going up and down with hard breathing. Evina removed her foot from his neck.

“Nate?” she said, because he wasn’t getting up.

He moaned, a soft, lost sound she didn’t know how to interpret. She knelt beside him and laid her hand gently on his spine. Scratches and stains covered her fingers, but all that marked him was sweat. The contrast between her dirt and his cleanliness couldn’t have been plainer.

“Nate,” she said, bending to kiss his shoulder blade. “Please tell me you’re all right.”

His laugh sounded dangerously like a sob. “Please tell you I’m all right. Evina, I was hunting you. My wolf wanted to eat you.”

She hadn’t been certain he’d remember. “You didn’t let it,” she said, rubbing his hunched-over back. “You let me control you.”

This seemed a better way to phrase it than saying she’d forced him to submit.

Nate sighed and sat up slowly. His face was his face, his eyes returned to their normal black coffee brown. They were guarded, but she supposed that was to be expected. He touched her cheek with his fingertips, dragging them gently to her jaw. Her hair had to be holding a few birds’ nests worth of leaves. By this point, it was more clumped than it was braided. Nate’s mouth curved sardonically. “Christophe will be happy to hear you’ve learned to make shifters change.”

Evina supposed this was true. At the moment, she was more concerned with whether Nate was okay with it.

“We should probably try to find our way back to civilization. Iseult still has Paul and Malik. Your alpha will help us if we ask, won’t he?”

Nate dropped his hand. “Yes, I . . . I think I can retrace our path. We’ll find a phone and call for backup.”

She flung her arms around him. She didn’t know if he wanted a hug right then, but she couldn’t help herself. After a couple seconds, he held her back as tightly. She didn’t have words for how good that felt.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said against her tangled hair.

He was shaking, but she didn’t say a word about that.

Chapter Thirteen

WITH seriously uncomfortable emotions, Nate retraced the path along which he’d hunted Evina. His wolf had been in charge, obviously, but he was inside there too, helplessly observing everything his beast thought and did.

Wolves were intelligent predators. Evina had been unnervingly interesting for his to chase. If she hadn’t thought to use her alpha power at the end, he knew what it would have done. His wolf had been strategizing which part of her to eat first—and this was after she’d said she loved him.

Shame didn’t cover what that memory stirred in him. Left to himself, he wasn’t certain he’d ever change into his wolf again.

He took grim satisfaction in Evina trailing more than one stride behind him. If he’d been her, he wouldn’t have felt safe with him at her back.

“Nate,” she said as he waded across the stream where she’d tried to confuse her scent. “You can’t beat yourself up about this. I’m a predator myself. I knew what instincts I’d trigger when I ran. I couldn’t think how else to buy time.”

“Don’t—” try to make me feel better, he began to say, but under the circumstances, that seemed churlish. He stopped in the brook to look back at her. Her worried face struck him like a blow: the exotic beauty no amount of exhaustion or dirt could dim.

“Don’t what?” she asked.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Nothing.” His throat was thick. “Am I going too fast for you?”

She shook her head. “I just can’t smell right. Losing that claw screwed me up. Other than that, I feel a lot better. I’m glad we’re together.”

He was too, crazy as that sounded. He rubbed her shoulder, about to say he didn’t think they had much farther to go. Before he could, a different scent caught his nose.

“They came this way,” he said.

“Iseult’s crew?”

“Yes, but they weren’t moving toward the parking lot.” He stepped out of the brook to get a better whiff. Iseult’s people had crossed the stream directly, rather than walking along it. “They went south and east, toward the cabins some wolves rent to stay overnight for the moon.”

Evina stopped at his side, her arm brushing his warmly. “Do you think, maybe, they’re keeping Malik there?”

He and Evina looked at each other. “We’ve only got a few more miles. I know there’s a pay phone near the park gate.”

“What if Malik can’t wait for us to contact your squad? Iseult spent a lot of power back in that clearing. What if she . . . uses him to recharge?”

Us, she’d said. Nate fought against that sounding sweeter than sunshine. “You could go on without me and make the call.”

Evina smiled, sly and small. “Can’t. My sniffer is wonky. Nate, I really am better, even if I can’t change.” Her smile twisted into a rueful shape. “I think channeling my inner alpha gave me a second wind.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said. “And I’ll follow your lead, I swear.”

His brow wrinkled at the way she said this, but now wasn’t the time to probe.

“All right,” he said and turned to guide her down the new trail of smells.

They’d loped along for about ten minutes when they came across the remnants of Paul’s carrying crate. The steel looked like the Hulk had ripped it apart. Even the electrum grill was twisted out of shape.

Evina gasped, then crouched to examine the pieces. “No blood,” she said quietly. “Paul must have changed inside the box.”

Her ex could have crushed his tiger attempting this, but as far as getting free went, the risk paid off. Nate’s head came up. An odd crackling noise tore the air, like a really big transformer spitting electricity. It sounded like it came from where Nate thought the cabins were.

He and Evina broke into a run, their hands reaching naturally for each other. To Nate’s surprise, the clasp didn’t slow them down. They leaped obstacles together, suddenly as nimble as if this were the start of their day. They reached the edge of the cabins quickly, dropping as one behind a dry woodpile.

To their amazement, Paul—in his tiger form—was doing a fair job of holding off Iseult’s contingent by himself.

Nate whistled in his head at the tiger’s size. Ten feet long and easily six hundred pounds, the striped orange beast was making his stand before the open door to one of the half dozen log cabins. The arcing sound they’d heard was Iseult throwing lightning balls at him.

She resembled a vengeful goddess, her fair hair blown back, her eyes glowing with grief and rage. Blue and Brone lay on the gravel drive to either side of her, the savaged state of their intestines telling a gory tale.

Nate didn’t know if they’d truly been her cousins, but he guessed she’d been fond of them.

The rest of her people huddled behind a light blue pickup, probably thanks to Paul’s fear-inducing weretiger roars. Of course, they also might have wanted to stay out of Iseult’s way. Beaumont and the bank teller—clearly the coolest heads in the bunch—were firing semiautomatic pistols, their hands and wrists braced on the pickup’s hood. Thankfully, neither was a sharpshooter. Iseult appeared to have done most of the damage to the furious tiger.

Why he was furious soon became apparent.

A small blond head poked into the doorway behind him—Paul’s two-year-old son Malik, Nate assumed. The youngster’s head jerked back when Iseult’s next crackling electric orb singed his father’s rear left paw.

“Oh my God,” Evina breathed in a wondering tone.

Nate thought she must have spotted Malik, but she pointed toward what she wanted him to see. Nate’s heart nearly turned inside out. A chubby baby in a onesie was crawling toward the threshold, apparently curious to see what the noise was about. A second baby joined the first a moment later, this one wearing only a diaper. With a practicality that would have been amusing if the danger hadn’t been so great, two-year-old Malik darted out, grabbed each infant by one ankle, and dragged it back into the cabin.

Holy shit, Nate thought. Iseult’s gang must not have killed all their fake adoptees yet. Special Crimes had taken over the search for them, but the best anyone had hoped for was to find identifiable pieces. They should have been more optimistic, or maybe realized that the best way to preserve magical material was to store it alive.

The surviving babies didn’t like Malik’s tactics much. They set up a wail that spurred Paul’s tiger into action. He crouched and sprang, his powerful shifter’s hind legs launching him toward Iseult. He would have gotten past another lightning ball, but she was too smart for that. She said a word, threw up her hands, and a shimmering shield of force appeared in midair. Paul crashed off it and fell back, lying stunned for a few seconds. When he shook himself and got up, he was limping. Nate thought he might have broken his shoulder.

“We have to stop her,” Evina said, seeing as clearly as Nate that Iseult’s attacks were taking a toll on Paul. “Vasili was an ordinary shifter. His blood couldn’t have given her that much power. Why isn’t she running out of juice?”

Nate couldn’t answer that. Because theorizing seemed pointless, he took a quick inventory of the materials around them: a wall of split wood, a bottle of Jim Beam with a dribble of booze in it, a cracked Bic lighter, and a rusty bean can with its lid curled back.

“Evina,” he said, “do you think you could sneak around and set that truck on fire without them catching you?”

Evina gauged the height of the end-of-summer weeds that would serve as her cover. “In my sleep,” she said, grinning like the secret pyro Nate suspected many firemen were.

He wished there were time to kiss her. Instead, he handed her the lighter and the can. “Put your incendiary device together. As soon as you’ve thrown it, retreat out of shooting range. I’ll use the distraction to charge Iseult. I expect Paul will be quick enough to join me. With her attention split, I think we can take her down.”

He hoped they could anyway. He didn’t have a lot of experience battling souped-up half faeries.

Almost to his dismay, Evina rigged the exploding bean can—including a fuse ripped from the tail of her shirt—in less than two minutes.

“You should take this,” she said, offering him the hilt of the dagger she’d held onto all this time.

He didn’t want it, partly because he thought she should keep it to defend herself. “It might be spelled. I don’t think I should bring it near Iseult again.”

Evina peered dubiously at him, then decided not to argue.

“See you soon,” she said, and took off in a running crouch.

Tigers had a reputation for hunting like shadows. Evina didn’t disprove the stereotype. Silent as a ghost, she melted into the reeds like she was part of them, her dirty yellow oxford excellent camouflage. He barely heard her toss the can underneath the car. Her targets certainly didn’t. The fuse stayed lit long enough to ignite the alcohol-soaked wood chips. They burned brighter than the cotton, the twigs they were bundled with catching too. Their forking branches were designed to carry the flames upward.

Catch the oil reserve, he prayed. Cars didn’t run on gasoline in Resurrection, but their gears still used lubricant. Nate hoped this one was extra greased.

Thirty nail-biting seconds later, the truck went up in a beautiful ball of fire. The blast blew Iseult’s crew back like crash dummies, though Nate didn’t have a chance to ascertain how badly they’d been hurt.

Here goes nothing, he thought as he vaulted over the cords of wood.

He blurred toward Iseult with all the shifter speed he could muster, not wanting to give her time to put up another shield. Paul let out a roar as Nate slammed into her, carrying Iseult and himself to the gravel drive. Fortunately, Paul figured out what was happening. Nate’s hands were full enough grappling with an enraged part faerie. He didn’t need to deal with the tiger too.

Whatever qualms he might have had about trying to hurt a woman he lost when he realized she had more raw strength. She made him glad for every bit of his quickness and training.

To discourage her from chanting, first chance he got, he drove his fist hard into her mouth, knocking out a portion of her pretty snow-white teeth. Iseult’s head jerked back in pain and amazement. Nate had a feeling she’d never been hit like this in her life.

Then she spat blood at him.

To his relief, the blood wasn’t magic and only blinded him temporarily. By this time, Paul’s tiger was circling them as they wrestled back and forth. For once, the tiger’s size wasn’t an advantage. Paul had trouble finding an angle of attack that wouldn’t result in him chomping down on Nate as well.

Iseult noticed Nate’s ally closing in. She made an angry gurgling noise and started building another lightning ball in her palm.

Nate guessed she didn’t need to chant for that.

Hoping to distract her again, he aimed a punch toward her nose. She wrenched away before the blow connected, kneeing him in the groin instead.

Nate saw stars—thanks to being naked—but refused to let go. Iseult’s baby lightning was now as big as a golf ball. The missiles she’d lobbed at Paul had been soccer size. Preferring not to wait for that, Nate grabbed her wrist and walloped her forearm down.

Nothing happened. Her arm didn’t snap, and her lightning ball didn’t stop accumulating new layers of sparks. She grinned at him through her broken teeth, the smile crazy looking in the bloody mask he’d made of her face. In Nate’s opinion, she should have been in too much pain for that.

Then he noticed what her left hand was doing.

She’d grabbed the triple tail of her chainmail belt, its pearl finials clenched within her fist. He remembered what he’d seen her wearing that morning: two pink pearl earrings and one pink pearl pendant.

The answer came to him in a flash. These were the same three pearls. Her power wasn’t unlimited, nor was her constant rubbing of the jewelry a nervous habit. She was storing extra energy in them. She had a damn backup battery.

He wondered if the pearls were pink from being soaked in baby’s blood.

“Her belt!” he cried to Paul. “Rip it off of her with your teeth!”

That made her angry. With the surge of strength her fury brought, she rolled Nate under her. Struggling against the clamp he had on her wrist, she tried to force her lightning-making hand down toward him. The crackling sphere she held might be small, but she seemed to be hoping to push it into his cranium.

Nate didn’t want to discover what that would do to his gray matter.

At least the change in position, with her on top of him, allowed Paul a clear path to dart in from behind. He got his shearing teeth under her belt first try. Apparently, the chainmail links weren’t ordinary steel. He tugged Iseult and Nate backwards in his efforts to make them snap.

Iseult tried pushing the lighting back at the tiger. Nate jerked her toward him for a head butt that should have scrambled both their brains.

“Screw you,” she spat as a pistol coughed.

Beaumont and the teller had gotten back in the game.

The tiger yelped, so Nate guessed the bullet had struck him—and that it was electrum. It mustn’t have done worse than crease his hide. Paul continued worrying at Iseult’s belt. Convinced that getting it off her was the important thing, Nate heaved upward until he was kneeling. This positioned his back between Paul and the two shooters. Hopefully, they wouldn’t target him for fear of the bullet passing through his body to Iseult’s. Ammo that hurt shifters damaged faeries too.

“Pull!” he exhorted Paul. “Use the strength that broke that crate apart!”

Paul’s tiger muscles bunched for one great heave. Another shot barked at them. A streak of fire licked Nate’s shoulder. Fuck it, he thought to the pain. He sprang off his knees in a move too fast for Iseult to counter, the brief air space enabling him to whip his legs out straight. He drove his heels through the gravel and down into the earth. Braced, he pulled Iseult the opposite way from Paul, thus increasing the strain on her belt.

With perfect timing, Paul yanked massively backward.

At last, the tiger was successful. The girdle snapped, dragged from Iseult’s waist and hold as the tiger tumbled backward tail over head.

The lightning ball sputtered out. Iseult threw back her head and screamed.

She did this from more than rage. Her stored-up power had been protecting her from the brunt of her injuries. Deprived of its support, her wounds turned into those a human would have suffered if Nate had used shifter strength on one. A crack appeared in her forehead from his head butt. Her lightning-throwing arm shattered even as he held it, her soft skin and lax muscles all that held it together. The punch he’d driven into her mouth caused the lower half of her face to cave. The light went out of her eyes before he could think about helping her.

Nate didn’t waste valuable time mourning. Thrusting her limp body off of his, he turned and sprang over the smoldering pickup toward the shooters. Beaumont and the terrified teller got two more wild shots off. After that, he had them on the ground. Their struggles were mostly symbolic. When Iseult lost her power, it must have drained theirs too.

Evina was smart enough to dash out of hiding and grab the guns. With one pistol in each feminine fist, she ordered the rest of the cowering crew to freeze. They didn’t seem inclined to run, as black-faced from the truck’s explosion as coal mine employees.

“Hands behind your heads!” she barked, not taking chances. “Don’t try any tricky stuff.”

She uttered this with such gusto Nate thought she must have played cops and robbers back when she was a cub.

“Thanks,” Nate said, hiding his amusement.

“My pleasure,” she responded.

A slow clapping noise came from the nearest stretch of trees. Nate barely had strength to tense, but he did.

Then Tony stepped from the trees’ shadows, bristling with assault gear and grinning like a bandit. Adam was behind him.

“Bro,” Tony said with a smirk. “Naked fighting! I gotta say that is a bold fashion choice, but it looks good on you.”

“Fuck,” was the only retort Nate could come up with.

“Guess we missed the party,” Rick added from a different direction. Tony’s big brother was strolling out from between two cabins with Carmine beside him. “This all of them that you know?”

“Yes,” Nate said, having done a quick headcount. He must have been tired, because seeing his pack riding in to help brought a sting to his eyes.

“Your kitty cat know how to handle those?” Carmine asked, eyeing Evina and her double fistful of pistols.

“She does,” Evina answered dryly, not turning from her targets to look at him.

Since she seemed steady, Nate shook his head for Carmine not to take the guns from her. “Toss me a couple cuffs,” he said to Tony. “I want these two squared away.”

Tony threw him the requested items, unable to resist reminding him that’s what pockets were for. Beaumont and Mrs. Norman lay limp as he snapped them on, the fight literally run out of them. Seeing he had them under control, Rick and Carmine went to help secure Evina’s group.

“You know,” Rick said, stealing a page from his brother’s book, “it looks like your girlfriend collared more perps than you.”

“Jesus,” Adam said—but not at their ribbing. His eyes had widened at something behind them all.

Nate turned to see and couldn’t help smiling. Paul looked like a fricking fire department recruiting poster emerging from the central cabin in human form. Shirtless, he’d found a pair of too-short trousers and seemed to have healed most of his injuries. This, however, wasn’t what made him noteworthy. On each of his giant arms, he carried two wriggling one-year-olds. A fifth was squished between the others, held up mostly by the fact that there wasn’t room for any more on Paul’s chest. Nate doubted he’d truly needed to tote them all out at once, but he understood the impulse. As if they knew they were safe, none of the babies were crying.

Though his father’s arms were obviously full, Paul’s son Malik appeared to think he ought to be carried too.

“I ’tected!” he yelled, tugging at Paul’s pant’s leg. “I ’tected good, Daddy!”

Completely charmed, Nate strode to Malik and picked him up. This startled the boy but didn’t upset him. “You protected great,” Nate said. “You should be really proud of yourself.”

“Thanks,” Paul said over his armload. “You probably saved our lives back there.”

“I’d say that’s mutual,” Nate replied honestly.

Paul looked slightly embarrassed, making Nate want to laugh. Even now the tiger didn’t relish being allied to a wolf.

Chapter Fourteen

JOKING around aside, Nate’s squad took over efficiently. Evina found herself downtown and giving Carmine a statement almost before realizing her and Nate’s big quest was over.

“Couldn’t I talk to Nate before we do this?” she asked the older wolf.

“He’s giving a statement too,” Carmine said.

He seemed good-humored and kind, everyone’s favorite uncle. Evina suspected this was his best weapon.

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “We closed an investigation your squad didn’t want to pursue.”

He leaned back in his steel chair, a legal pad and mini-recorder sitting ostentatiously on the interrogation room’s scribbled-on table. Evina had been interested to see the place Nate worked, but this room smelled like bad coffee and old sneakers. Thus far, Carmine hadn’t turned the recorder on.

“Do I need a lawyer?” she asked tartly.

“Do you think you do?” Carmine responded.

“What about the kids we saved? At least tell me they’re all right.”

“Child Services is taking care of them.”

As a firefighter, Evina had experience with Child Services’ well meaning but occasionally idiotic employees. “What about the children’s parents? Some of them may have rethought their decision to give them up for adoption. Surely those kids would be better off at home.”

“Are you telling us how to do our jobs?” Carmine inquired softly.

“Well, fuck,” she said, losing what was left of her patience. “Someone needs to. Nate is an amazing man—and an amazing cop. He’d have taken a bullet to save those kids, a bullet that was meant for my ex. That alone ought to earn him a medal.”

Carmine smiled, his amusement seeming genuine. “You mean, we ought to give him one if we don’t have our heads too far up our fat asses?”

Evina flinched in spite of her anger. She’d forgotten the angry voicemail she’d left Nate’s boss that morning.

Carmine chuckled, his slightly stocky belly shaking with the laugh. “Relax. I’m not trying to trip you up. It’s simply obvious there are . . . irregularities about what happened today. The criminal mastermind was your ex’s mother-in-law. You and Nate are dating. All of us feel bad about Nate being left hanging out to dry—no one worse than our alpha, believe you me. We need the whole story before we can figure out how to edit it.”

“You need to know everything?” Evina asked unsurely, her thumbnail finding a place to worry between two teeth.

“Well,” Carmine vacillated, “no sex stuff, if that happened to happen. Bad enough I had to watch Tony ogle Nate in the buff . . .”

~

“How’d you find us?” Nate asked Rick.

Nate knew he was in Interrogation to spill his story to the squad’s beta. That didn’t mean Rick couldn’t supply a few answers first.

This probably indicated Nate hadn’t learned his lesson about sticking to his place.

Rick seemed to know this—and find it amusing. “You girlfriend informed Adam you stole my car. We tracked its GPS to the bank, where the manager and senior teller were taking a mysteriously long errand. When the black SUV you’d put a search on turned out to be one of that branch’s best customers, we put the computer boys on tracking that instead.”

Rick spread his hands like it had been simple.

“That was Tony’s stroke of genius, wasn’t it?” Nate guessed.

Rick laughed at him. “Bro, you know us too well.”

It was all bro now, apparently.

“We’re sorry,” Rick said, seeing his expression. “You have no idea how much.”

Nate sighed, because that didn’t really matter—not compared to the rest of it. “What’s happening with the tiger?”

“Shifter Counseling has him for now. He was pretty shook up after mauling those two part faeries, not to mention seeing his cub at risk. Once they’re convinced he can handle it, we’ll go through the drill with him.”

“Counseling might want to talk to the wife as well. She’s going to have a pretty weird funeral to plan.”

“You could give us a little credit for having sense.”

“You thought of that,” Nate said.

“We thought of it,” Rick confirmed. “That family isn’t going to be abandoned just because a criminal made a home in it.” He hesitated, then unbent. “But I understand why you asked.”

A counselor would have said they were acting like grown-ups. Nate strove to keep his next question from sounding like a challenge. “Adam and Tony are questioning the people we arrested?”

“Carmine will too, when he’s done with your kitty cat.”

He just had to put it like that. “Her name is Evina Mohajit,” Nate said. “And she’s an incredibly brave woman.”

Rick smiled down at his legal pad, his well-bitten pencil tapping it.

“I could tell,” he said. “She didn’t once scream in horror at the sight of you naked.”

~

Nate finished up with Rick in about half an hour. Until his actions could be ruled on officially, the squad was keeping him away from the rest of the interviews—which Rick trotted off to join like he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth in.

Evina was still with Carmine.

Nate had a nagging urge to poke his head in on them, to reassure himself she was all right. He hadn’t liked the others separating them, though he understood why they did. Looked at straight on, Nate had acted without his superior’s knowledge. His pack wanted to make sure they got the whole story. They were the only people they wanted colluding to fudge the facts.

They didn’t understand Nate couldn’t have cared less what Evina told them—good, bad, or indifferent. The compulsion to protect her, to make up for what he’d almost done was all his instincts were locked on.

It was funny, in a sick way. Iseult had twisted his wolf’s natural responses to work against its own self-interest. Mates didn’t hunt each other. Mates had each other’s backs.

She’s my mate, he thought, testing out the words. I love her, and I don’t ever want to hurt her again.

His stomach clenched, nerves tightening like he was gearing up for battle. Restless and with nowhere to spend his energy, he wandered to the break room.

He expected it to be empty, but Dana was in there. She’d just poured fake creamer into her coffee and was stirring it with a swizzle stick.

“Hey, Rivera,” she said. “Congrats on the hero stuff. Want me to fix you a cup?”

He shook his head. He avoided the squad room’s coffee whenever possible. He studied Dana, who didn’t look different that he could tell. She wore her usual New Age-y clothing, complete with multiple evil eye necklaces and saints medals. She was a pretty girl under the goofiness—not a movie star but attractive. She didn’t look like she harbored compromising secrets. Before this, he’d have sworn her differences were entirely out in the open.

She certainly didn’t seem aware that her loose lips could have sunk his ship. Maybe she didn’t know. Iseult could have glamoured herself to look like anyone when she seduced her.

Nate wondered why Dana hadn’t come out as a lesbian. Tony’s announcement had gone all right, maybe a bump or two on the way but nothing they hadn’t gotten over. Didn’t Dana know they’d accept her too? Then again, Dana was neither wolf nor pack. Had that influenced her expectations? Nate knew firsthand that feeling like an outsider might make someone hesitant to trust.

“You want a cookie?” the dispatcher asked, her elbows resting on the counter. “Rick and Tony’s dad baked oatmeal raisin.”

Nate started to say no, then realized he was hungry. Luckily, Mr. Lupone made cookies the size of paws.

“Dana?” he said once he’d polished off half of one. “You wouldn’t talk about squad business outside of work, would you?”

Dana’s forehead squinched up. “Of course not. Why would you even ask?”

“Because it could have repercussions. Ones you might not anticipate, even if the person’s questions seemed harmless.”

Dana rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not an idiot, Rivera. I know not to gossip about cases.”

“Or people,” he added, wanting to be clear.

“Or people,” she huffed back.

Her answer stumped him. Did she not realize she’d done it? Had Iseult charmed her to forget perhaps?

Nate decided he’d better speak bluntly. “Dana, did you recently go to bed with a woman who was extra-curious about your job?”

Dana flushed and began to stammer. A second later, a look of horror chased the embarrassment from her face. “No,” she said disbelievingly. “That woman who picked me up at the restaurant was part of this crime ring?”

Nate didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d been its ringleader. “There’s something else you should know. Your anti-hex charms are canceling each other out. I’m calling the precinct’s magic expert tomorrow. He’ll help you straighten them out.”

Dana had gone pale, her hand instinctively clutching the necklaces she wore. “Oh my God.” She set her coffee numbly on the Formica counter. “Oh my God. Are you going to tell Adam?”

“You should tell him,” Nate said, knowing he couldn’t keep this from him.

“He’ll fire me.”

“He’ll be angry, but I don’t think he’ll go that far. Just explain everything as calmly as you can. Don’t make excuses and, you know, man up and take your licks.”

The ghost of a smile touched Dana’s lips. “That’s what you do when you’re on his bad side.”

“That’s what I aim for, and—hey—I’m still here.”

He gave her arm a pat and left the break room with two more cookies. The senior Mr. Lupone had a gift.

“Aren’t you going to share?” asked his favorite voice in the whole wide world.

Evina was alone in the main squad room. Carmine had found her an RPD T-shirt to replace her bloodied button-down. She’d plunked herself at Nate’s desk, mud-smeared sneakers propped on its clean surface. Normally, he’d have winced, but today he didn’t care. With her sharp cat hearing, he imagined she’d heard every word he and Dana said. Her grin went a long way toward erasing the tension inside of him. Glad she was there, he sat on his desk’s corner and handed her a cookie.

“You brushed your hair,” he observed. “And re-braided it.”

“You say that like you’re disappointed.”

“The uncombed version had a primitive appeal.”

Evina snorted. “Yeah, like a cavewoman.”

He bent and kissed her, then tucked his face against hers. They held like that, cheek to cheek, as if their beast halves needed to touch base too. Nate probably had extra testosterone in his system, left over from the fight. His cock responded to their closeness with an enthusiasm he wasn’t ready to deal with then. In spite of this, when they pulled back, they were both more relaxed.

“That was kind,” Evina said, cocking her head toward the break room.

Nate hitched his shoulders. “Dana didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“You think like a boss, you know. A good one.”

“I guess this experience didn’t cure me of that.”

Something flickered in her eyes. She shielded them with her lashes before he could determine what it was. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything,” he said sincerely.

“The hospital let Christophe sign himself out.”

“He changed into tiger form?”

“No. He just healed enough that he no longer needs medical supervision. I was going to see him and . . . test out my new wings.” Her gaze lifted back to his. “Could you come with me? I’m a little nervous about disappointing him.”

Touched that she’d want him there, Nate caught her hand to kiss its knuckles. “Whatever I can do to help.”

~

Nate seemed happy to be back in his Goblinati. Evina was entertained to see him pat the dash like it was a friend he’d been parted from.

They’d burned up the remainder of their long day at his precinct. The sun was setting as they left the city, the Friday traffic stop and start. This was date night. People were filling up sidewalk restaurants; winding down from their week in couples and groups. At times like this, Evina admitted the city was more exciting than the suburbs. She gazed longingly at the little tables, wishing she and Nate could share one. Then, because she loved watching him drive, she turned to rest her cheek on the passenger seat’s leather. She could pretend this was a date if she wanted to. “Did you speak to your boss?”

“Only for a minute. He was tied up in interviews.” Nate drummed the wheel and grimaced. “I guess we’ll have it out tomorrow night at our traditional victory bash.”

“He’s going to apologize, Nate. You won’t be in trouble.”

He slid her an amused look. “You know that, huh?”

“It’s what I’d do if I were in his shoes.”

“Maybe.” He unwittingly pleased her by letting the grooves on his forehead smooth. “Are the twins and your mom okay?”

“Better than okay. Apparently, Derrick Black took them to the zoo.”

Nate’s mouth twitched. She suspected he was imagining the driven news producer trying to herd two six-year-olds through the monkey house. “Abby must have enjoyed that.”

“She mentioned they convinced him to feed the llamas. Sometimes I think she’s as persuasive as my mother.”

“I think she takes after you,” Nate said. “Smart, bossy, and absolutely adorable.”

Evina told herself he didn’t mean bossy as an insult. “I’m not adorable.”

He brushed her face with the back of his fingers. “You’re adorable to me.”

His voice was husky. Just like that, Evina wanted him, her body going wet and achy to have him slide in it. She dropped her hand to his thigh, rubbing the strong muscles underneath his pants leg. “Nate . . .”

“I know.” He returned his gaze to the bumper that was halted ahead of them. “Now isn’t the time for this.”

It felt like the time for something, but perhaps the feeling wasn’t mutual. She withdrew her hand from his leg. “Carmine invited me to your party tomorrow night.”

“Did he?”

“I feel like I passed a macho test. Get into a fistfight, and everyone can be friends.”

Nate smiled but didn’t say he was glad. Ahead of them, the line of traffic moved for a green light.

“Nate,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’m not sure how much I was supposed to say, but I didn’t tell Carmine about your wolf wanting to eat me. Or about me subduing you. I didn’t think that was their business.”

Nate scratched the bristle on his lean cheek. “I, uh, might have glossed over that bit too.”

This should have made her feel better . . . except, what if he hadn’t mentioned it because he didn’t want them to know his girlfriend could shove his face in the dirt?

Don’t be paranoid, Evina ordered herself. He’s been through a lot. He isn’t pulling away from you.

Not necessarily anyway.

~

Evina’s second in command lived a couple blocks from her in the same complex of townhomes. In Nate’s opinion, the dated cookie cutter structures were an eyesore. Ah well. He supposed the grassy stretches between the buildings were good for the kids to run on.

“You don’t have to do this,” Evina said once he’d parked and shut off the engine. “It’s my problem, really.”

Nate disliked hearing that more than he had a right to say. “I don’t mind. This might be easier with a buffer there.”

Evina blew out her breath, looking more nervous than before.

“Come on,” he said, getting out. He didn’t walk around to open her door for her. This was alpha business. She didn’t need to be treated like a girl.

She got out and joined him on the front walk. He noticed she put her shoulders back as they strode up it together. Christophe opened the door a minute after she’d knocked.

His gray sweatpants and RFD T-shirt covered some of the damage, but his appearance inspired an inner jolt. With the bandages removed, his skin looked like a paper-mache project gone awry. The scars appeared to be hampering his range of motion. His arms were stiff as he swung the door back to let them in.

“Nate,” he said, surprising him by remembering.

“Christophe,” he returned, maybe just as surprised at the warmth that welled inside of him. The reaction felt like it was coming from his wolf. “Good to see you up and about.”

“Well, it’s better than the alternative.” He hugged Evina, the gesture seeming natural and affectionate.

“You ready to try this?” she asked.

Christophe let out a sigh.

“You need to,” Evina said, surprised by his reluctance. “You can’t return to work as you are. You’re as stiff as an arthritic.”

“Maybe I’m not meant to return.”

“Not meant to!” Evina’s exclamation was breathless. “Chris, you love being a firefighter. Hell, in a lot of ways you’re better at it than me!”

“Things happen for a reason.”

“Bull,” she spat back at him. She hesitated. “Is it me? Are you afraid I’m going to screw up helping you to change?”

“Of course not,” he said. “If you say you can do it, I believe you.”

He was afraid of something. Nate saw that shadow cross his face. He took Evina’s arm before she could speak again. “You know, maybe Chris and I should have a guy talk.”

“A guy talk.” Evina’s fists had found their way to her waist.

“Sure. In case there’s anything he’s too embarrassed to tell you.” Both Evina and her second stared at him. “Come on, Chris,” he said, ignoring how ridiculous they both seemed to be finding him. Nate had instincts, and they were telling him to keep at this. “Let’s go to the kitchen and crack a beer.”

Bemused, Chris led the way to his fridge. Perhaps cruelly, Nate let him fumble over opening two bottles of faerie stout with his damaged hands. Nate took one long swallow before he spoke.

“She can do it,” he said quietly enough that Evina would have to strain to hear. “She might have doubts, but I don’t. I’m a wolf, and she mastered me. Most alphas can only force their own pack members into a change.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Chris said. “We came up in the same class at the Fire Academy. Once Evina figured out how to do something, she always had it down.”

“Then what’s the hang up? And don’t bullshit me about what’s meant to be. You’re afraid of something.”

Christophe worried at the label of his chilled beer. “I keep thinking about that day. About how Evina warned me the room was going to flashover. She ordered me to get out of there. That’s how they train us. You don’t play crazy hero unless you’re convinced you can make it pay off.”

“You did make it pay off. You got those kids out of there.”

“But I wasn’t convinced I could. I wasn’t even thinking. I might have been on two legs, but my tiger was in charge of me. It saved those kids. It tore off my protective gear and wrapped them up in it. I wasn’t afraid at all, and that—” He gestured with the bottle for emphasis. “That scares the hell out of me. What if I change and it takes over? What if the impulse it decides to act on isn’t benign?”

Nate couldn’t speak for a few seconds. Christophe might have stolen his own terrors and put them into words. He must have been channeling Tony then, because what he finally did say was pretty damned silly.

“Cats don’t wear coats.”

Christophe’s fire-thinned eyebrows shot up.

“They don’t wear coats,” Nate repeated, “and they can’t tear them off. They might risk their lives to defend their own cubs, but they don’t generally risk them for a stranger’s. You were in there, Chris. Your cat took charge so you could do what you needed without being paralyzed. Maybe it knew you’d be successful. Sometimes our beast halves are more intuitive than our human ones. Bottom line: You’re the boss of it, not the other way around.”

“You really think so?”

“I really do.” He felt better as he said it, not completely but enough that the knots in his shoulders let go of his trapezius muscles. Evina had said he’d let her dominate his wolf. Maybe there’d been more truth in that than he’d realized.

“I’ll stay while Evina does it,” he added. “You’ll have us both to look out for you.”

Nate had offered this without thinking, but Christophe wasn’t offended. Though he was a grown man, relief washed visibly through him. “I’d appreciate that.”

~

Evina had known Christophe would be her second before he did. The first time they teamed up for an exercise at fire school, the relationship simply clicked. The reason was more than working well together or thinking in similar ways. They had what she thought of as professional chemistry. Even at the height of her and Paul’s romance, their rhythm hadn’t been as smooth.

Chris had never said so, but he’d been relieved when Paul broke up with her and went to a different station. At the workplace, her ex had been the third wheel.

Her beta was in his bedroom now, laboriously undressing while Evina and Nate waited in the hall outside. That was a little weird, but not because she and Chris had ever been intimate.

“So.” Nate leaned against the opposite wall. “You and Chris ever . . . ?”

“No,” she said, amused by how closely his thoughts tracked hers.

“It’d be understandable. I assume he’s a good-looking guy.”

“He is, but we never struck those kind of sparks. We count on each other. After Freda and I guess my Mom, he’s one of my closest friends.”

Nate’s fathoms-deep eyes met hers. Her stomach went into free fall. God, he was attractive—and for more reasons than his looks. He was brave and smart and a hundred other not-simple qualities she admired. She didn’t want to think about losing him from her life any more than she did Chris. His lips tightened as if he were about to speak. Was he going to share what he and Chris discussed? Did he perhaps have something personal to say? Maybe on the topic of being her friend himself?

“Okay,” Chris joked from behind the door. “I’m indecent.”

They went in without laughing. Chris was in the bed, propped up on pillows. He’d pulled the sheet to his waist for modesty. Scars webbed his upper body, the hardened tissue seeming most constrictive on his right arm and face. On his chest, a couple muscles looked as if portions had melted. The sight made her hurt inside. More than ever, she hoped she could do this, if only to restore what had been a fine example of tiger male beauty.

“Nice, huh?” Christophe said, pulling a sarcastic face at himself.

Evina sat on the edge of the bed. “Consider it a blessing. When you’re healed, you’ll really appreciate what a handsome stud you are.”

Chris smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re my boss. And my friend. No matter what happens next.”

He was making her tear up. Pulling herself together, she took his right hand in hers. She held it gently against her breast and looked into his eyes.

“I’m not feeling her up, I swear,” he teased aside to Nate.

“Shush,” Evina said. “Focus on me right now.”

He settled, letting her gaze sink into his.

“You’re mine,” she said much more gently than she had to Nate in the woods. “My tiger. My beta. My right hand in the pride. You’ve always trusted me, and I want you to trust me now. I’m going to compel you to change. My will is going to rule yours.”

She pushed. She knew Chris felt it, because his eyes grew worried. Very aware of Nate standing behind her, she upped the amperage. The air between her and Chris wavered with magic. Chris made a tiny noise like she was hurting him.

“Harder,” Nate said before she could ease up. “You need to really slam your will into him.”

“Just do it,” Chris gasped at her.

She was trying. She remembered how mastering Nate had felt and knew this was different. Her authority didn’t feel as decisive. Maybe she couldn’t be as ruthless if the situation weren’t life and death. Maybe she didn’t want to be a stone cold alpha in front of Nate a second time. Shoving that fear aside, she closed her eyes to concentrate better. It wasn’t working. Sweat broke out on her skin.

Then Nate dropped his hand to her shoulder.

All of them gasped in unison. Evina’s eyes flew open. The contact was like a plug pushed into a socket. Nate’s aura linked up to hers so neatly she was amazed it hadn’t happened before. She felt twice as big, twice as strong, twice as unstoppable. She felt whole—without having realized she didn’t feel that way before. Now she knew why this had been so easy at the lake. Nate made her more. Nate supported her alpha power.

“Change,” she whispered, one hundred percent certain it would happen.

Heat surged from her heart chakra into Christophe’s. His big hand tingled inside of hers, and then simply disappeared. He flashed from man to tiger in a split second, faster than she’d ever seen anyone change form. Light burst outward from where he’d been, radiant and gorgeous, like a soul she could actually see.

An instant later, a giant tiger shape was wriggling and huffing under Christophe’s plaid cotton sheet.

Evina started laughing and couldn’t stop. His tiger looked completely silly trapped like that.

“Sorry,” she said when he growled at her. Wiping her eyes, she got up and helped free him.

He lay down then, more than taking up the bed. Evina reached to rub him between the ears. He butted her hip, marking her with his scent glands. Then he looked up at Nate.

“Can I pet him?” Nate asked, slightly awed. Evina understood the reaction. Christophe was intimidating up close and in tiger form.

“Don’t let him lick you,” she warned. “Tiger tongues scrape like sandpaper.”

Nate gave Chris an experimental scratch underneath the chin, which Chris encouraged by lifting it. Nate scratched harder. Chris’s tiger’s eyes drooped with enjoyment. If they kept this up, he was going to purr. He marked Nate too, then jerked his head toward the door with a sneezing noise.

“Okay,” Evina said, “that’s our cue to leave and let him change back again.”

Since this only took a minute, she guessed her beta was over his hang up.

He came out again tying the drawstring on his sweatpants. The motions of his hands were easy, his skin once again flawless.

“That’s more like it,” Evina said, meeting his giant grin with her own. “Now all the hose bunnies can swoon after you again.”

“Puh-lease,” Chris said. “Women love a big guy with scars.”

He reached for Nate’s hand, giving it a manly slap and bump.

“You,” he said meaningfully.

“Me?” Nate returned, his eyebrows quirking.

It was Chris’s turn to burst out laughing. “You’re a fricking alpha. And you’re her damn bondmate. The other guys are going to have a collective cow. I hope you’re prepared for it!”

“No,” Evina said, even as the girly part of her nature fizzed like champagne. He was hers? Really, he truly was? “Christophe, maybe you’re wrong.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said firmly. “My aunt and uncle are bondmates too. Their energy does the same stuff as yours.”

Evina looked at Nate, whose jaw seemed to have fallen to the floor. “I’m alpha?” he asked.

“You’re alpha to me, that’s for sure. To all Evina’s pride, I’ll bet. I guess the wolves will have to speak for themselves.”

“That’s . . . not possible,” he said. He looked like he wanted to be convinced, which Evina took as promising.

“I mistook you for an alpha when we met,” she reminded him. “You certainly demonstrated a knack for making my crew back down. Heck, Nate, you inspired Rafi to change into boy form without a fight. He brushed his teeth for you!”

As proud as if he’d arranged this turn of events himself, Christophe clapped each of them on the shoulder.

“Look out, world. Resurrection has something new in it.”

Chapter Fifteen

NATE was lost in thought as they left Christophe’s home. He stopped in front of his Goblinati, dropped his head, and rubbed the back of his neck.

Evina took his other hand. However their relationship turned out, she wanted him to know she was here for him. Strictly speaking, not reaching out would have been difficult. After what had just happened, the pull between them was strong. Her energy wanted his next to it.

“We can leave the car where it is,” she told him. “We’re close enough to walk to my place.”

“Right.” He must have felt what she did. He wove their fingers more firmly together.

Darkness had fallen while they were with Chris. Most of the development’s residents were inside watching TV or fixing a late dinner. Evina led Nate the long way around to her unit, across the best grassy stretches toward the little woods her children liked to pretend was a deep jungle. Her family wasn’t expecting her back just yet. She and Nate had time to talk. Much as she enjoyed the silence between them, she knew they needed that.

They walked close enough that their shoulders brushed. Without working too hard at it, they found a compromise between their stride lengths. Evina realized she wanted to do this every night.

“I always suspected that might be true,” he said, cutting through the crickets and muffled cooking sounds.

“That you really are an alpha?”

“Yes.” He rubbed his left eyebrow with a fingertip. “Of course, I also thought I might be kidding myself. Because I was resentful over not earning top spot in my pack.”

“Is it going to be harder to work with them now that you know for sure?”

He thought. “No. I feel calmer. Maybe the validation helps. I know, so I don’t have to keep pushing for them to see it too. Or maybe the calmness is your effect on me.”

He squeezed her fingers, causing a thrill to run through her. They stopped walking and looked at each other. No electric lights were nearby but, behind Nate’s head, the moon was three-quarters full, glowing like a spotlight with its power dialed to maximum. The moon was his people’s symbol, their emblem of change and mystery. As well as she’d come to know him, his mysteries weren’t all revealed. Evina’s stomach was so jumpy she couldn’t tell whether that excited or frightened her.

Nate stroked her braided hair around her head. “I believe what Christophe said. I believe you and I are mates.”

Evina’s nerves fluttered more forcefully. “You don’t think that’s crazy?”

“Only on the surface. Underneath it makes perfect sense. We bring out more in each other.”

Evina bit her lip. Nate’s expression was so serious she didn’t know how to interpret it. “What do you want to do about it?”

He smiled gently. “I’m pretty sure that’s your call.”

She didn’t want it to be hers, or—rather—she knew her preference already and needed to hear his. “I’m not the easiest woman to get along with.”

He surprised her by laughing. “Did Paul put that idea into your head? You’re easy, Evina. Any smart man you lived with would roll out of bed every day happy.”

Any smart man you lived with . . . Was that what he hoped would happen? That they’d live together? She knew she shouldn’t want more than that. More than that wasn’t what most tigers did. “You called me bossy,” she blurted.

“Do you think that scares me?”

“But now you know you’re alpha!”

“Evina.” He hugged her, quick and wonderful. “Paul wasn’t secure enough in himself. You need a man who’s stronger than him, not one who’s more subordinate. I think, maybe, that’s me.”

There wasn’t any maybe about him being stronger than Paul. Nate had confidence—and stubbornness—in spades. When Nate sank his teeth into a project, he never let it go.

“The question is,” he said, his beautiful hands moving around her hair again, “do you want me in your life? Can you trust me after what I almost did?”

“You don’t even have to ask!”

“I do. If you’d done what I had, you’d feel the same. Even if you’re right about me letting you stop me.”

When he put it that way . . .

Her arms were around his waist from his earlier hug, his rangy body warm in the loose embrace. “Nate,” she said as soberly as she could, “if anyone were going to eat me, I’d want it to be you.”

He stared at her, stupefied. Evina gave up the joke and broke into sniggers.

“Oh for crap’s sake,” he exclaimed. “That’s not funny!”

“Apparently, it is,” she replied, because he was laughing a bit himself. She wagged her brows at him. “You caught the double entendre, right?”

Nate shook his head in exasperation. To her delight, this was a prelude to kissing her. His lips settled over hers as if their mouths had been custom designed to fit. That was better. In fact, it was delicious. Nate’s hands slid down her back to pull her as close as two bodies that still wore clothing could get. From what she could tell, he was very happy to be kissing her.

“Mm,” she said, squirming against his various hard places. “Maybe I should eat you. You’re so tasty.”

“Jesus,” he said, helpless to fight a smile. “Not. Funny.”

“Well, then.” Unable to resist, Evina ran her hands around the muscles of his tight butt. “Maybe I shouldn’t eat you. Maybe I should just lick you here and there.”

She rubbed her pelvis suggestively up his crotch, where the ridge of his erection seemed to have turned to stone. Since that drew a pleased gasp from him, she put more of her kitty slinkiness into the motion.

Sometimes it was nice to be flexible.

“Evina,” he growled. Then he kissed her so deeply she couldn’t speak for a few minutes.

It felt like he was pouring heat straight into her sex, like he’d tipped a bottle of steamy syrup, and she was filling up. Everything they’d been through hit her, everything she longed for, all the hurdles they still faced. She had to get him inside her, had to hold the two of them as tight as they would go. If she didn’t, her heart and her lust might explode.

She broke free of his delectable tonguey kiss, both their eyes blazing fire. Because they were shifters, this sort of play cranked up their temperatures. She gripped Nate’s hot hand in hers.

“Come with me,” she said, tugging him after her.

They ran, laughing breathlessly, into the community’s little stretch of woods. They didn’t stumble. With the nimbleness of their beasts, they sought privacy among nature. The exertion was a pleasure, the anticipation it helped to build. Nate pushed her spine back into a tree trunk even as she yanked him closer by the collar. She loved that he was taller and stronger, loved too that he yielded to her pull. They were yin and yang jumbled up together, tinder and spark and a thousand other combustible metaphors.

Evina couldn’t come up with them right then. She felt wilder and more wordless than she ever had before.

“I want you,” he growled, low and sexy, ironing his crotch over hers. “I’m going to die if I have to wait.”

She kissed him, clutched him. “Help me with my clothes.”

He peeled off her upper garments in a single smooth motion. Cool air hit the tightened peaks of her breasts.

“Hey,” she said. “Didn’t I have a bra under there?”

Nate grinned and cupped her, thumbs reaching for her sensitized nipples. “I’m all about efficiency tonight.”

He ducked his head and sucked. For a moment, all she could do was wallow in sensation. Each pull of his mouth licked nerves in her clit and pussy. Moaning, she drove her fingers so deeply into his hair that she undid his ponytail. This wasn’t bad, of course. She loved combing through that warm black silk.

“Evina.” He fell to his knees in front of her. His hands got busy opening her trousers, then shifted to unbuttoning his fitted business shirt. He must have kept extras at the precinct. The garment was as sharp as everything he owned. Dark oyster brown with pale cream stripes, the colors looked so yummy against his skin it honestly made her mouth water.

“Don’t rip that,” she pleaded as he wrenched his arms from the sleeves. “It looks really nice on you.”

She felt him grinning as he kissed her navel.

“Lift your feet,” he murmured against her stomach, his hands tugging at her sneakers.

A shiver of nervous excitement rolled up her spine. Did he intend to strip every scrap from her? Out in the open and everything?

She supposed he did. Once her shoes were pried off, he shucked her trousers and panties as handily as the rest. From his knees, he gazed up her body, the moon painting pale magic over her dips and curves. His expression was awestruck, like he hadn’t imagined a woman could look like her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his palms and fingers smoothing around her thighs, urging them to part for him. “You’re exactly what a woman should be.”

She couldn’t laugh at his exaggeration. He sounded too earnest.

Plus, there was the distraction when he nuzzled between her labia and sucked her clitoris.

Her neck arched against the bark of the tree. Talk about being eaten. Nate was making a feast of her—licking, suckling, sliding two long fingers into her sheath to rub it coaxingly. Cream ran from her, coating those clever appendages. Christ, he knew exactly how she liked this. Evina clutched his head. Playing shy really was a waste with a man like him. With a grunt of pleasure, Nate worked his strong right shoulder under her spread left thigh.

Naked, forced to stand on one foot, Evina rolled her sex at him. Her inner thigh pressed his ear, the movement of his jaw intensely arousing. Sensing her urgency, he worked his fingers more strongly in and out. He held her too securely for her to fear losing her balance. This was good, because when his fangs lengthened with arousal, she totally lost it.

“Nate,” she gasped, a sudden strong orgasm squeezing her pussy tight.

He panted in response, the ragged sound sharpening her pleasure. His fingers pumped faster, drawing out her climax. Knowing him, it wasn’t an accident that one fang compressed a nerve so sweet the ecstasy almost hurt.

He seemed to know when she’d had enough. He eased his fingers from her, dropping one last kiss to her throbbing clit. He let her thigh slide off his broad shoulder, but didn’t rise right away. Instead, he dragged his face from side to side on her belly. The gesture was indescribably vulnerable and sweet.

“I love you,” she said, petting his lovely hair. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

He tipped his face up, golden fires burning behind his irises. She didn’t need the words back from him. Those soulful eyes were abundantly expressive.

With her hips to serve as his brace, he pulled himself to his feet. He didn’t move. He looked down at her and breathed, the in and out of his ribs deep and exciting. Titillated by the thought of what they’d do next, Evina smoothed her hands over his bare chest.

“Open my trousers,” he said.

The instruction rasped from his throat, inspiring a small shiver. Evina dragged her nails lightly down the arrow of hair on his muscular abdomen. His diaphragm moved faster, the large bulge behind his zipper drawing her scratches there.

“Fuck,” he gasped, eyelids growing heavy as he widened his stance.

Evina knew an invitation when she saw one. Up and down his erection she drew her kitty nails—ten again, thank the Tiger Queen. She pushed them through his legs to where his balls were pulsing. Every inch of the route she took was worth repeating, a thoroughness he seemed grateful for. When she saw his canines sink into his lip, she undid the clasp at his waist and pulled down his zipper.

His swollen cock pushed out so heavily the teeth nearly parted without help. Slowly, teasingly, she dug down into his jockstrap.

“Ah,” he sighed as she grasped his thickness and tugged upward. “Evina, that feels good.”

“To me too,” she whispered.

He was silk and steel, muscle and heat and oil where his tip leaked beads of arousal perfect for rubbing across his tip with her thumb. Sensualist that he was, he let her play for quite a few minutes. His body undulated, rolling in slow waves at the pleasure she stirred in him.

Then he caught her wrist with his hand.

“I need to show you something,” he said throatily.

She rose on tiptoe to kiss him, their tongues tangling deep and wet. When both their hearts were thumping harder, she pulled away. His eyes glittered down at her as they opened.

“Show me what?” she asked.

“This.”

He wrapped his hand over hers where she held his cock. She expected him to adjust her stroke, maybe show her how he liked to masturbate. That possibility increased the ache of want in her pussy. He surprised her by simply nudging her index finger onto a new spot.

The place was near the base of his erect penis, slightly hotter than the rest, and blatantly swollen. She fanned her finger across it, causing him to shiver.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“It’s called a bulbus glandis. It activates in werewolves when partners who could be mates have sex.”

“In werewolves.”

“Yes.” He pushed her finger across the gland again, shuddering at the feel this time. Evina’s body creamed at his reaction. The spot must have had a lot of nerves. “It’s been swelling up for you. It gets bigger when I come, and that tightens our fit when I ejaculate. Maybe you noticed I like to be really deep inside you then. The ring of muscles at your gate presses on me just right.”

She had noticed that—and enjoyed it. “You didn’t say.”

“I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It’s only happened a couple times and never with someone I felt so drawn to. I didn’t like it so much before, but with you it’s incredibly pleasurable. I guess my body knew we were meant for each other before I was ready to admit it.”

She smiled. Admitting this couldn’t have been easy for a play-the-field guy like him. He smiled back. Possibly, she looked a little smug. She distracted him by rubbing the gland again.

As she did, an idea occurred to her: one her imagination found so compelling her inner muscles squirmed together. “I guess when this gland is swollen, being sucked feels especially good.”

Nate inhaled. “It isn’t the easiest spot to reach, since it’s on the base.”

“Is that a dare?” she teased.

He actually flushed when she ran her pointed tongue around her lips. Laughing, she shifted her hands to his hips.

“Stay where you are,” she warned as she dropped down in front of him.

Beneath her knees, the long grass was cool and damp. Knowing he liked her assertiveness, she gripped the waists of his jock and trousers, and yanked them past his hips. Because his legs were straddled, neither garment fell. She had, however, succeeded in exposing his cock and balls.

She thought he looked nice in the moonlight too.

The ridges of his torso muscles were very clear, his erection monolithic from this angle. She saw the redder patch at the base of his cock. It was the size of a fifty-cent piece, two strong veins feeding it. With a hum of anticipation, she dragged the flat of her tongue up it.

Nate swallowed a moan and dug his hands in her hair.

This was fun, for sure. She pulled the head toward her mouth and slid her lips over it. That drew more heartfelt groans from him; especially when she stretched her tongue down to work his special spot. The sweetness of his pre-ejaculate washed over her taste buds.

“Evina,” he said, hips rocking to her as her head rocked down him. “God. Don’t make me go just yet. I want to be inside you.”

She gentled her motions, but it was impossible to stop when he reacted this enchantingly. The power was so heady it sang in her blood like wine. No alpha could have refused it. She ran her hands up and down his trouser legs, knowing the instant his knees started to wobble.

She pulled back with a last lick up him. “Enough?”

He took her hands, helping her to her feet. The second she was on them, he bent his knees to align their heights. His body slapped hers back into the tree, his mouth claiming hers for a blistering kiss. That went on long enough to make her head spin.

“Whoo,” she sighed when he let her go. She felt like she’d been plundered. Her heart pounded in her chest like a tribal drum. She was glad to hear his thumping at the same rate.

He dropped his sweaty forehead onto hers. “Can I let go for this?” he asked. “Will I scare you if I do that?”

Scared was the last thing she was feeling.

“Please,” she said. “Don’t hold back.”

His hands glided to her bottom, fingers tightening around her ass cheeks. He hiked her into place, waiting for her to lock her legs and ankles into a helpful position. He let go with one hand, moving it between them. Evidently, he wanted to do the honors when it came to entering her. He adjusted his cock against her, setting the silken head where she was wettest. The way his penis trembled might have been the sexiest sensation she’d ever felt.

Before they left her, his thumbs and fingers caressed her labia, seeming to savor their soft cling on him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” she promised him.

He reached above her, taking hold of a jutting branch. Evina slid her hands up his back to wrap around his shoulders.

His eyes caught fire as he pushed into her.

The thrust might have started slow but it ended emphatically. He let out a little grunt as he finished sinking. Loving that, Evina rubbed her face across his neck.

“That isn’t all you’ve got,” she whispered.

He drew his thickness back to her brink, the noise that accompanied this a barely audible whine. His gaze searched hers. Yes, she thought. Give me everything.

Perhaps he read the mental message. He let himself off his leash.

If a person could fuck like a dervish and make love at the same time, that’s what Nate did to her. Evina met his fervor with her own, digging her heels into his butt and driving her sheath down him. Now that she knew it was there, she wondered how she’d missed the swell of his gland. It seemed to get bigger with every stroke, its entrance slicked by the excitement it pulled from her. The spot was hot in more ways than one. Nate cried out as she tightened deliberately on it.

“Shh,” she warned, recalling they weren’t in the actual wilderness. Nate couldn’t seem to comply.

“Fuck,” he groaned, jamming hard into her. “Jesus, Evina!”

The branch he was using to improve his leverage began to crack. “Fuck,” he repeated, gripping it closer to the trunk.

Evina licked the sweat running down his corded neck, then nipped his lower lip. A tiny nick of blood hit her tongue.

Most shifters had a thing about blood and sex, the combination a cross between a fetish and an aphrodisiac. Werewolves weren’t immune, apparently. She licked the drop from his lip, and his cock surged an inch longer. He’d reached the last millimeter of his control.

His cock jerked and went stonelike.

“Damn it,” he cursed, abruptly yanking it out of her.

She didn’t think he was angry; he wasn’t panting the right way for that.

“Let go,” he demanded, because her legs were still hooked on him. His voice was harsh. “Turn around and face the tree.”

Understanding what he had in mind drove a spike of arousal through her pussy. She dropped her legs and turned, dug her cat nails into the bark, and arched her rear up for him. She loved when they were face to face but didn’t hesitate to offer herself this way. She craved it too. Whether she was thinking like a woman or a tigress, he’d earned the right to ask. They’d been a team today, and he’d led them to victory. Now he would claim his prize. He growled, the sound pure admiration for the picture she was making.

Then he kicked her ankles another foot wider.

That made her cry out, the sound unmistakable for anything other than arousal. He surged up to her, his taller body hard behind hers. God, he was hot. Panting, urgent, he fit his cock against her and drove inward. Caught in her own heat wave, she moaned at all that steely maleness entering her from a new angle. Nate didn’t have the patience to let her adjust to it. He started going at her the instant he was in. He felt so thick, so strong, his pumping motions even more frantic than before.

“Good?” he gasped, the word shaken by his thrusts.

“More,” she pleaded, arching her hips to him.

She knew this was what he wanted, to be urged to take her without restraint. He slapped his hands on top of hers, wolf nails sinking into the bark with a solid thunk. That increased his leverage too.

“Unh,” he said with a massive thrust that lifted her to her toes. “Evina . . . Evina . . .”

She came: tight, sharp, the sweetness running up her nerves in bursts. Her climax truly seemed to drive him crazy. Pistoning like this was a race he had to win or die, his clenched thighs wedged hers wider. He mouthed the back of her neck, canines taking hold of the delicate skin.

She knew he wanted to bite her like his beast would, wanted to hold her captive when his seed erupted.

“Yes,” she cried, starting to crest again.

“It’s coming,” he said. “God . . .”

His cock and his gland pulsed inside her at the same time.

This was constriction. This was a pressure that drove her to the primal edge of being too taken. The first jets of his seed flooded into her, his hips jamming all the way in again. His ejaculation cast a spell on her responses. Suddenly, too taken was exactly right. Her pussy convulsed around him, tightening the fit even more. Snarling with pleasure, Nate yanked one clawed hand free of the tree and clapped it over her labia. The heel of his palm ground her clit back over her pubic bone, an increase in stimulation she wouldn’t have guessed she needed. Need didn’t matter much to Nate. He was all about making it better.

Thinking that was a good example to follow, Evina wrenched her hand free to wrap it over his. She made sure the joint pressure of their palms rubbed his now grossly swollen gland.

The orgasm detonated for both of them.

His teeth bit down, his tongue coming out to suck the mark. As it did, their auras merged like wildfires. His thrusts were only deep then, lightning-quick inch-long jerks that kept his prick way up in her core. His jaw was clamped on her neck, his groans of bliss singing down her vertebrae. He came until he couldn’t come anymore, then continued to milk out her pleasure.

She was a little sorry when his canines released her. Her healing powers were back online. The sting faded in seconds.

“Evina,” he gasped, the first intelligible speech he’d gotten out for a few minutes. “God, I love you.”

A pang she hadn’t known she was holding onto dissolved when he said the words.

Her knees were understandably shaky. Needing help staying upright, she rested her cheek against the tree trunk. Judging by the bark’s texture, it was a birch.

Nice birch, she thought, laughing silently to herself. Nate had turned her into a literal tree hugger.

Nate wasn’t much steadier. He was hugging her, his face ducked against her shoulder. They’d straightened some at the end, but his cock was still snug inside her, his quickened pulse vibrating strongly there. Evina twisted her neck to rub their cheeks together.

His slightly bristled skin was wet. His arms tightened on her waist. His breathing broke with a peculiar hitch.

“Nate!” She squirmed around before he could stop her. She touched his cheek, amazed by what she found. “What is it? Why are you crying?”

His face twisted sheepishly. “Sorry.” He tried to drag the tracks away on his shoulder, but more fat drops appeared. “I guess every man fears the wolf inside him, that it will hurt the woman he cares about. I’m probably more wolf than most.”

She dried his cheeks for him, knowing better than to make jokes. “You weren’t too rough, Nate. You did exactly what I wanted.”

“That’s why it was so amazing. After what Iseult made me do, you trusted me completely.” He shook his head. “That isn’t all of it. I’ve been a seducer my whole adult life. I want to be worthy of how you feel about me. I don’t want to hurt you in any way ever.”

She ran her fingertips around the hollows beneath his eyes, searching for the right words to say. “I know you must have broken a heart or two. You’re the kind of man a woman doesn’t easily forget. All the same, I’m willing to bet that isn’t how you get your jollies, and that you’d never deliberately break mine. That’s all the worthiness I need, Nate. Everything else I know about you, I respect.”

“I’ve never been in love before,” he confessed.

She couldn’t help it: her face split into a grin.

“Oh God,” he sighed melodramatically. “You’re going to hold that over me, aren’t you?”

“Only secretly,” she teased. “On the outside, I’ll be perfectly mature.”

“And on the inside?”

“Inside, I’ll be crowing that I’m the Holy Foods Romeo’s one true love.”

He laughed and the moment magically turned flawless, a perfect diamond buffed by their shared humor. Evina didn’t mind that the clothes he’d peeled off her were now so disreputable the Goodwill would have rejected them. They’d get her home without being arrested. Right then, that was all she needed.

Well, that and the honest-to-God ironed handkerchief Nate gave her to clean up with.

~

Evina’s cubs let out enough of a caterwaul while running to her that there could have been ten of them.

“Mommy!” they squealed, flinging their arms around her. “You’re home!

Nate watched her hug them back. She dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor, kissing them until they squirmed and giggled.

Abby was the first to push back. “Mommy, Nate’s friend Tony invited us to a party!”

“Did he?” Evina asked, stroking her daughter’s curly mop of hair.

“Yes, Mommy. Tomorrow night. He invited all the tigers you work with, plus Grandmom and Mr. Black.”

Rita and the news producer had been playing a board game with the twins at the kitchen table—Portals and Ladders, Nate believed. Though Derrick Black wore a business suit, he looked surprisingly at ease. He seemed amused but not displeased to find himself where he was. His tie was tugged down and everything.

“Your friend called here,” Rita said over the rim of her coffee mug. “Asked specifically to talk to the kids.”

She seemed to consider this significant.

“You’re supposed to stay home from work tomorrow,” Rafi informed Nate. “He said you need a play day.”

“He bought us tickets to the planetarium,” Abby added. “He attached them to Rafi in an email.”

“That was . . . nice of him,” Evina said, shooting Nate a less sure look.

Nate didn’t know what Tony was up to, precisely. He could guess, but the lowest ranking member of their pack had a talent for hiding his sneakiness under more of the same. Despite that, he didn’t see the harm in this.

Only a monster could disappoint those two bright faces.

“I’d be happy to share a play day with you,” he told the twins. “As long as it’s okay with your mom.”

“Yay!” both cubs yelled, which Nate found incredibly flattering.

His cheeks grew a little hot as he noticed Rita watching his reaction. Her tone when she spoke was dry. “Your pack member also mentioned the party would be at your loft.”

“What?” Nate gasped before he could guard his tongue. Victory parties were never at his place. Adam always was the host. He’d have to clean. And shop. And cook, for all he knew!

As she watched these thoughts cross his face, Rita’s smile was undeniably catlike. “Your friend is very persuasive. He also called my daughter’s station. Two of her tigers have agreed to team up with two of your wolves to prepare the food.”

“In my kitchen?” he burst out, so horrified the twins turned to gawk at him.

“That was my understanding,” Rita said creamily. “Something about you having two dishwashers and every cooking utensil known to man.”

Nate shut his mouth and swallowed. He could live with this. He was going to have to if he and Evina were serious. He hoped the wolves Tony roped into cooking were his parents. The Lupones were easygoing. They’d be unlikely to clash claws with Evina’s crew.

“Is that okay?” Evina asked, coming over to touch his arm. “Whatever your friend arranged, you don’t have to go along with it.”

Her touch conveyed a charm he couldn’t resist, settling his hackles in one warm wave. Nate grinned, which made her grin back. Probably, they looked sappy, but he really couldn’t care.

“It’ll be fun,” he said, hoping this was true. “And so will the planetarium.”

Rafi and Abby bounced up and down with childish roars.

“All right,” Evina said, smiling indulgently at them. “Which of you mini-monsters has brushed your teeth tonight?”

Abby stopped bouncing to plant her fists on her little hips. “Mommy,” she said as sternly as if she were thirty instead of six. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. It’s too early to get ready for bed.”

Nate had to roll his lips together to contain his laughter.

~

Without actually discussing it, Evina and Nate mutually decided he’d sleep over. Evina was happy this was the case. Maybe it was too soon, and him staying would confuse the kids, but no way was she letting him leave her house tonight if she could help it.

She walked her mother and her friend to the door while Nate began the twins’ elaborate pre-bed ritual.

It seemed Derrick Black and Rita intended to spend the night as a couple too. “I’ll catch up,” Rita said as he went to his car.

“Thanks so much for protecting the kids today,” Evina said. “I owe you a million trips to the dry cleaner.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Those kids are my blood too. I’m glad you and I . . . I’m glad we get along now that you’re grown up.”

Evina hugged her. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweetie.” Rita pushed back and tilted her head at her. “You’re serious about this wolf, aren’t you? This isn’t fun and games.”

Evina’s cheeks grew hot, but she wouldn’t deny it. “Nate is a good man.”

“I agree,” Rita said.

“You do?” She shouldn’t have been amazed. Her mother’s decided tone of approval simply took her aback.

Rita smiled. “He’s certainly got better taste in women than Paul. And he doesn’t have a nervous breakdown after a few fisticuffs.”

Paul hadn’t had a breakdown; he was just shaken up. Plus, Iseult being Liane’s mother likely accounted for his wife’s less-than-formidable character. Evina didn’t waste breath explaining this. She had more important things to share. “Nate thinks I’m easy to get along with,” she confided in an undertone.

“Well, then.” Her mother framed her face in her hands. “All the more reason to treat him like a keeper.”

Chapter Sixteen

NATE enjoyed waking up with Evina and the hodgepodge breakfast she pulled together. It wasn’t every morning he ate Faerie-O’s with tuna salad on the side. To his relief, their trip to the planetarium with the twins didn’t wear out his patience. Rafi and Abby were normal kids and not Elfmark Cards, but genuinely liking them smoothed any rough moments.

When Abby fell asleep and drooled on his sleeve during the tour of the Milky Way, he felt like he’d won a medal. Her brother might be shyer, but her fierce little heart was better defended.

Lunch at Bob’s Kabob was the limit of how long he could go without checking in on his squad. He left Evina and the children pouring over the menu while he stepped out on the sidewalk to make his call.

“Everything is fine,” Carmine assured him. “These suburban gangsters are a chatty bunch. They’re so busy turning on each other I doubt anyone’s gonna get a deal. Iseult thought she was being smart, setting up her crime ring in her daughter’s neighborhood where nobody would suspect it. Instead, she wound up with a bunch of wannabe part-faerie amateurs. And of course she couldn’t recruit anyone with as much mojo as she had. She wanted to be the one doling out the power with her rituals. That way, she’d assure their loyalty.

“Oh, and if I were inclined to gloat, no less than five of these yahoos told us they were convinced that she—as her Ellen Owen persona—actually preferred Ivan. She switched brothers when she couldn’t push The Terrible around like she wanted. Set up the embezzlement scheme to drive them apart. Once Vasili killed his brother, she and her very well funded crew planned to step into the power vacuum, just like you theorized.

“The reason you set off alarms in that smoke shop was because Ellen Owen didn’t exist before two years ago. She couldn’t have gone to high school with your fake cousin. Her cousins—the dead drug dealers from the smoke shop—planned the whole thing with her. Helped her reinvent herself. Arranged for her to cross Ivan’s path so he could be dazzled. The problem was, they were also the distributors for the baby parts, which meant you were too close to connecting her to something worse than being Galina arm candy. So you didn’t screw up, really. You just got unlucky.”

This was nice to hear Carmine say, but maybe not that important. “What about Beaumont? And the bank teller, Mrs. Norman?”

“Oh, them.” Carmine chuckled. “The bad doctor and Mrs. Norman are the DA’s new favorite folks. I hear she’s pushing for banishment to a demon realm, but she’ll settle for the death penalty. This case is gonna be high profile. She’s salivating to stick it to ’em good.”

“Good,” Nate said. He watched a gaggle of giggling teenagers dash across the street. They made it safely, despite the honking cars. “Did you guys catch the WQSN coverage?”

“We did,” Carmine said. “They’re calling the kids you guys saved Resurrection’s little miracles. There’s a big swell of support for the ‘special needs’ shifters. Child Services has been flooded with applications to adopt them.” Carmine let out a snort. “One newscaster speculated spells must have been used to draw clients to that Wings of Love outfit, ’cause surely no decent parent would give up cute kids like that.”

“It could be true,” Nate said. “Iseult used magic for lots of things.”

“Maybe.” Carmine sounded cynical. “I did see one editorial that made sense. One of WQSN’s producers—that Derrick Black—is calling for the fae to appoint godmothers to the rescued kids. Said if they didn’t make a practice of neglecting their mixed blood by-blows, Iseult’s peeps might not have turned to a life of crime. Those kids could use protection, that’s for sure.”

“That’s smart,” Nate agreed. “Somebody should call the Mayor as well. Really put a headlock on our founders.”

“I’ll drop that bug in Adam’s ear,” Carmine promised.

To their alpha’s dismay, the city’s benevolent yet terrifying head official liked chewing the occasional fat with him. Creature-wise, no one quite knew what the Mayor was—only that he out-juiced everyone.

Nate glanced at the restaurant’s window, knowing he couldn’t stand out here much longer. “Look,” he said hastily, “about tonight’s party . . .”

“Nope,” Carmine said. “You are under strict orders to stay away from your loft. All you and your girlie friend are allowed to do is show up.”

“But the tigers might—”

“Forget it,” Carmine cut him off, proving authority didn’t always depend on alpha genes. “Tony took care of everything. You show up at seven thirty and not a minute sooner. And in case you don’t listen, we’ve put Grant on lookout to head you off.”

They’d set the gargoyle to keep Nate away? While he was sure the squad didn’t mean to, this situation made him feel shut out again. Besides wanting to ensure the interspecies cooks weren’t breaking his place to bits, Nate had a specific reason he needed to get in.

“It’s my home,” he tried to say reasonably.

“Not until seven thirty,” Carmine refused flatly. “Now go enjoy your play day.”

He hung up, leaving Nate to stare at the phone.

Hell, he thought. He was startled from his glower by Rafi sticking his head out the restaurant door. “Come on, Nate,” he urged. “Mommy said if you don’t come back and order, she’ll let Abby do it for you.”

“Is that bad?” Nate asked, a smile rising to his lips.

“It’s awful. Abby orders everything extra hot.”

“Even ice cream?”

The boy looked up when Nate stroked his hair. “She would if she could,” he warned ominously.

~

Considering the twins were felines, convincing them to nap so they wouldn’t fall asleep at the party required more work than Nate expected. Once they’d succeeded, he and Evina took one themselves. The fact that he’d been banned from his home, where shifters he didn’t know were doing who knew what, kept him from dropping off right away.

“You’re worse than a cat,” she teased, her head nestled cozily on his chest. “Someone closes a door and you immediately have to know what’s happening behind it.”

“So I’m territorial,” he said. “I can bend if I have to. You know, if it comes to letting someone I care about feel at home in my space.”

“Mm-hm,” she hummed, patting him sleepily.

He could tell she didn’t believe him, but it was true. Tony felt at home in his place, and Tony was a slob. He lay awake imagining what he’d do for her and the twins. The contents of his pantry would have to change, right off. Bottled olives and fancy imported crackers weren’t exactly cub-friendly. He’d need a contractor to throw up some walls for bedrooms. Maybe an indoor ramp system like people built for housecats—assuming Evina wouldn’t find that insulting. The kids would think it was fun, he bet, especially if he added tunnels and hidey-holes. Planning that entertained him until he remembered his weapons room.

Holy crap, he’d need better locks for that. Also, everyone might be happier if he had two bathrooms . . .

When he opened his eyes, it was late enough to dress.

He thought they’d started early, but it was seven forty-five before he parked the Goblinati in his loft’s underground garage.

It was seven fifty before the freight elevator let them out at his floor. Evina was suppressing laughter at his antsiness, but he ignored that.

“Huh,” he said, looking around the landing. His door was shut and there didn’t seem to be any noise.

“Where is everybody?” Rafi asked.

Nate hoped the answer didn’t involve corpses. Before he could wonder if he needed to draw his gun, Tony opened the entrance to Nate’s unit. “There you are,” he said with a big bright smile. “The party’s on the roof. We figured the weather’s nice, so why not move the festivities outside?”

Nate’s roof had nothing on it but air vents and pigeon poop.

Tony laughed at his expression. “We hosed it down. And strung up party lights. Go on.” He made shooing motions. “Everyone is up there. Evina’s friend Christophe is manning the bar.”

He seemed a little too eager to get rid of them.

“What are you hiding in my apartment?” Nate asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his packmate said.

Maybe he wasn’t lying. Either way, Nate turned to Evina and kissed her cheek. “Take the kids up with Tony. I need to grab something from my place.”

Evina laughed. “You want to make sure my tigers haven’t destroyed it.”

Unrepentant, he dropped a kiss to her mouth and smiled.

“Fine,” she said. “Kids, let’s join the party with Nate’s friend Tony.”

Nate could hardly get into his place fast enough. He walked into a wall of scents so rich his mouth watered: roasted meat and curry and fresh baked bread. Two tigers he hadn’t met relaxed in his open kitchen with Rick and Tony’s parents. The Brazilian black marble counters were piled high with dirty pans, but everything else seemed fine.

“Hey, Nate,” said Mr. Lupone, looking tired but accomplished. His arm was around his wife, and they were sharing a glass of wine. The tigers saluted him with beer bottles, apparently not thinking introductions were required.

“Smells great,” Nate complimented, falling in with the casual vibe. “Thanks for coming out to do this.”

He slipped into his bedroom corner before anyone decided they ought to chat.

His safe was behind a painting of the local grocer Maria had done for him one Christmas. She’d included every detail: the grocer’s dog, the prices on the fruit bins, even a poster for a play the local high school had put on. It was their neighborhood in a nutshell, worn and homey and colorful. Tony’s sister probably didn’t guess how much the gift meant to Nate—or the treasures he used it to protect.

His hand trembled as he turned the dial. He kept his mother’s valuables in here: baby pictures of him, her two Extraordinary Bravery medals, a single love letter his father wrote to her. He’d left when Nate was four, but she’d always loved him, and had never tried to make Nate think he was a bad man. He was a lone wolf, she’d liked to say. He gave us as much settling-down as he had in him. As an adult, Nate had sometimes felt he understood that. Tonight, he knew his father hadn’t been as fortunate as he was. To meet someone you wanted to commit to was a blessing.

The item Nate sought was at the back of the cavity. The velvet box was so old it had faded from red to pink. This was his mother’s wedding ring. His grandmother’s too. Nana Rivera had passed it down to his wandering father. Both his parents’ history was in it.

And now mine. Nate dropped to the edge of his bed to open it.

The antique ring was pretty, the diamond not huge but clear. His heart thumped faster when he touched it. Was it too soon to ask Evina to marry him? Should he wait until she knew him better? Until she was certain he’d do right by her and the kids?

He shut the lid and rose, shoving the box into his trouser pocket. He was certain, more than he’d ever been about anything. He wanted Evina to know his intentions now. If she wasn’t ready, he’d keep asking until she was.

If you wanted a good territory, you had to stake a claim.

He smiled at that idea, nervous but happy. His course of action decided, he bounded up the building stairs to the roof. The noise of the party hit him the moment he pushed the door open.

And so did something else.

He blinked, completely flummoxed by what he was looking at. The roof, which he owned but had never gotten around to fixing up, was transformed. What used to be bare tarpaper was now a miniature park. Grass had been rolled over beds of earth, brimming with chrysanthemums and green things. Little trees and benches overlooked winding paths paved in cobblestone. On one side of the roof, a bar and a buffet table bustled. On another, an elaborate jungle gym had been erected. Nate’s honorary nephew swung on it like a monkey, evidently demonstrating its finer points to Evina’s admiring twins.

Nate had a jungle gym on his roof. Obviously, Nate didn’t need one himself. Nate’s pack was trying to help him please his tigress and her cubs.

His eyes welled up even before the partygoers spotted him and roared, “Surprise!”

When wolves and tigers roared at you, you heard it. Nate had to press his hand to his heart to keep it from jumping out. “Crap,” he said once he could speak. “How the hell did you do all this in a day?”

From the front of the crowd, which had to be a hundred people, Carmine let out his belly laugh. “We snuck out between interviews. Plus, Adam had half the cops in the city pitching in. He’d have had more, but Tony was being picky when it came to construction skills.”

Half the cops in the city had done this for him.

Nate looked at Tony and Rick and Adam, all of whom were grinning. Evina stood next to Tony, his big hand resting on her slim shoulder. She was smiling too. She knew what this meant to him.

“Get that man a beer,” Tony called. “He needs fluids if he’s going to break down sobbing.”

People laughed, but Adam brought him one.

“This is my apology,” he said quietly. “For getting my back up and not trusting your instincts the way I should.”

Nate accepted the bottle, though his throat was too tight to drink. His voice was rough when he spoke. “This is a hell of an apology, boss. And the jungle gym . . . That’s a nice touch.”

“Tony seemed to think it was good idea. Grant flew it up here in one piece.”

The gargoyle lifted a wing and a paw at him. Touched, Nate’s ribs constricted another notch. Not about to let him off the emotional hook, Adam waited until he looked back at him. His green gaze was so intense it had almost gone wolfy. “If this tigress is who makes you happy, she’s who we want for you.”

“Crap,” Nate said as the water in his eyes spilled over.

Serious moment broken, Adam laughed and slapped his back. “Come grab a plate. We’ve got a mountain of food to eat. Those tigers don’t mess around when they cook. Last I saw Rick and Tony’s parents, they were actually speechless.”

As they wound through the partiers, Nate saw a lot of cops he knew and a lot of firefighters he didn’t. Evina’s sultry friend Freda headed up a group of laughing male and female EMTs who were clustered around the bar sipping sunset orange drinks from martini glasses. Nate recognized some of the paramedics from crime scenes and acknowledged their friendly waves. His personal music collection was playing from hidden speakers, R&B people could dance to. Faerie lights had been strung around a small dance floor. In its center, Derrick Black the werepanther news producer was cutting an impressive rug with Rita Mohajit. Nate had been to and thrown parties in his life but hadn’t had one thrown for him since he was a kid. Tonight felt a bit like wandering in a dream. Everything was too wonderful to be real.

“Everyone is getting along,” he murmured, marveling.

“You can thank the good food for that,” Adam said. “And Grant. Tony warned your guests he’d fly anyone who fought off the roof and drop them in the river.”

“Don’t tell the kids,” Nate said. “That might sound like fun to them.”

~

Nate seemed not to have informed his pack of his true status. Maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe his underlying nature wasn’t something a wolf could see. That Evina’s tigers could perceive it was obvious. She watched her crew of sixteen meet Nate, take in his alpha energy, then glance speculatively at her. They knew her current lover was unlikely to leave the RPD. Police work was too linked to wolf nature and traditions. This being so, they didn’t have to gird themselves for him becoming their co-boss. Working out his precise position in the pride would be interesting. Weretigers were as hierarchical as wolves. She wondered if Nate was aware of the paterfamilias role that was opening up for him.

She also wondered if he’d want it. Paul had, she suspected, but hadn’t quite slid into the spot. Ironically, it was looking like it fit her wolf better. Christophe’s story of how Nate had helped him change probably had something to do with that, but Nate’s unique charisma accounted for it as well.

He was an alpha who hadn’t spent his life as one, a natural leader who had experience following. He possessed both confidence and humility.

In addition to which, he was an unmistakable ladies man. His ability to charm didn’t turn off just because he cared about Evina. Other males respected sexual success. It was possible she respected it herself. Males weren’t the only ones at the mercy of anthropological tendencies.

“So, so fine,” Freda purred at her elbow, her gaze on Nate as well. She handed Evina one of the Kashmir Mango Martinis Christophe was making it his mission to introduce Nate’s wolves to. “I am genuinely regretful to be giving up fantasizing about that man.”

Evina choked on a swallow of the strong vodka drink. “You were fantasizing about Nate? You only met him once!”

“Once was enough. I do hope that, as my friend, you appreciate my sacrifice.”

“I imagine the fact that he has a number of hot wolf friends softens the blow.”

“Just a tad,” Freda said creamily. “You ask him to move in together yet?”

Evina choked on the drink again.

“Oh, come on,” Freda said, patting her back to help her stop coughing. “You’re alpha. You don’t have to wait for him to ask.”

“I have kids,” she said.

“Who he obviously likes. Unless . . .” Grinning, Freda tapped her pretty cinnamon-colored lips. “Maybe you’re holding out for something more old-fashioned.”

“Well, I’ve done the living together thing,” Evina admitted even as she flushed. “I’m just not sure Nate is that serious yet. Or if he’ll ever be.” She crossed her arms and frowned at herself. She couldn’t help what she wanted: she simply wasn’t certain wanting it was advisable.

“It’s like that, is it?” Freda said softly. “You’re, like, forever in love with him. That’s nice, Evina. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Anyway, wolves totally do commitment. It’s not that long a shot.”

“Maybe,” Evina said and forced her arms to uncross again.

Nate chose then to turn and smile through the crowd at her. God, he was cute, his bad boy style on display tonight. Underneath that, he beamed happiness. She couldn’t have been happier for him. He was back in the fold, surrounded by friends and family.

Evina wanted to be a part of that for him.

Someone turned the music louder, head-bobbing R&B pumping out of the speakers. Nate began dancing for her, his fingers crooking to call her out to him. Those hips of his were dangerous—and never mind his naughty smile. Ignoring the fact that her black leather skirt—the same she’d once worn to booty call him—was too short to move much in, Evina prowled through the bodies to join him.

She couldn’t have him thinking tigresses weren’t as good at swiveling their hips as wolves.

Nate bit his lip and shook his fingers to express how hot he thought that was.

She laughed and tossed her head. She’d worn her curls down for him, knowing he liked her hair that way. He took her hands and spun her to admire the full effect. She should have guessed he’d be fun to dance with, that he’d make her feel like a woman and a queen. His snazzy boots twisted and turned so neatly he could have been professionally trained.

When he went down without warning on one knee, Evina assumed he’d tripped on a cobblestone.

She offered to help him up, but then he dug a small hinged box out of his pocket. Evina’s heart jumped into her throat.

“Evina,” he said to her.

No one else was paying attention until the music suddenly cut off.

“Woot!” his friend Tony called, letting them know who the culprit was.

Nate called him a name she hoped her kids were too far away to hear.

“No, no,” Tony teased. “We all want to hear this.”

Nate called him the name again.

“Nate,” she said, beginning to laugh softly.

“Fine,” he huffed. Filling his lungs with a surprisingly shaky breath, he opened the box. On a silk-lined cushion a diamond ring twinkled—probably fortunate for her sanity.

“Evina Mohajit,” he said almost steadily. “From the time I was a teenager, I knew how to be nice to women. Until I met you, I didn’t understand what it meant to be good to one. You make me want to be good to you. Be my wife, Evina. Let me help your kids grow up.”

“Give her the ring!” Carmine hooted, pretending to be Tony.

Nate stifled a snort and held it up. “Please,” he said quietly. “Make my life finally feel whole.”

Evina was shaking all over. This was ridiculous. She was the head of her pride, the head of a fire station. Too many times to count, she’d faced life and death dangers. Surely she could answer this one question—which wasn’t in doubt anyway.

“Yes?” she managed to squeak out.

Nate rose and gave her a big hug. “Sorry,” he laughed against her ear while their audience clapped. “I didn’t mean for that to be such a scene. Here.” He pushed back to slide the ring on her finger. The antique band was a little loose, but it was beautiful to her. “This was my mom’s. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to meet her. I know she’d have loved you.”

His voice had gone husky. He’d truly given her a treasure. Evina looked from the twinkly diamond to him with sentiment-blurred vision.

“I love it,” she said, squeezing him tightly. For some reason, him returning the embrace made her tears overrun. “Omigosh, I feel like a sap!”

He kissed her even as she cried, to the amusement of everyone. Thankfully, the music started up again. She and Nate grabbed their chance to step out of the spotlight. At the edge of the dance floor, Christophe had Rafi and Abby by the hands. Her cubs’ eyes were saucer big.

“Big night,” her beta said, smiling at her fondly.

“Mommy!” Abby burst out as if she couldn’t contain herself. “Is Nate going to be our dad now?”

Nate went down on his knees to her. “I’ll be one of them,” he said. “If that’s okay with you.”

Evina watched her daughter struggle. Abby loved Paul dearly, but Evina knew he wasn’t around as much as her little girl would have liked.

“I don’t have to choose?” she asked.

“You don’t,” Nate assured her.

“And Malik will still be our brother?” This question came from Rafi.

“Absolutely,” Nate said firmly.

Evina looked down to hide her smile. For a guy who was a neat freak, Nate was certainly jumping into her family messiness with both feet. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed the muscle there. She vowed she’d always remember how awesome he was being.

~

They made their goodbyes—or tried to—an hour later. Naps notwithstanding, the twins were flagging. Evina wanted to get them home to their own beds. Nate put Tony in charge of seeing the party wrapped up safely. After that, he found his alpha’s wife, kissed baby Kelsey’s wispy hair, and squeezed Ari in a hug. Ari seemed as happy as Nate that he and Adam had reconciled.

“Call me anytime you need a break from this one,” she said to Evina while wagging her thumb at him. “You’re pack now. We girls try to stick together when we can.”

Evina seemed unsure what to make of the pint-sized, slightly punk alpha’s wife, but she took the offer in stride. “Thank you,” she said. “Whatever girl lunches and the like can do to improve detente, I’m in favor of.”

The women’s lips curved like they understood each other perfectly.

Nate told himself this was a good thing.

Ethan delayed their departure a little more by running over to chatter at Rafi and Abby. “Come back tomorrow!” he insisted. “We’ll build a fort! And finger-paint! I have to see what you look like when you turn into tigers!”

“Ethan,” his mom scolded, but the twins didn’t seem put off, just more tired than he was.

“We’ll set up a play date,” Evina said to Maria. “I understand kids like to hang with other kids near their age. My friend Freda has a five-and-a-half year old. God help us, but maybe they’ll all get on.”

Nate was awed by the ease with which they settled this. Apparently, facilitating children’s social lives was another skill he’d need to cultivate.

Evina’s mom wandered over then, hugging her daughter and shedding a few tears. “A wedding,” she sniffed. “You have no idea how much fun I’ll have helping you pick a dress. You’d look absolutely gorgeous in an Edwardian gown! I can start searching online tomorrow for bargains.”

With a slightly leery expression he had no trouble reading, Evina promised to call her later and got them all out of there. When they reached the freight elevator, he and Evina heaved relieved sighs.

The twins conked out in the back of his Goblinati five minutes after he’d begun driving.

All of this struck Nate as so normal it was surreal; as if in an instant they’d become a real family. How had he not known he wanted this so much? He took a moment to remember the babies for whom play dates and giggles and sleeping in back seats was over. Saving five out of two dozen had been a bittersweet victory, but Resurrection’s citizens were correct: those five were miracles.

“We’re lucky,” Evina said, reaching to squeeze his knee.

He rubbed the hand she’d laid there. Words weren’t sufficient to express how thoroughly he agreed.

“You know you probably won’t have kids of your own with me,” she said.

He touched her cheek, soft as velvet, warm as a summer’s day. “I’ll have two. And I already know they’re turning out amazing.”

Evina’s eyes glimmered with quick emotion—and then twinkled with mischief. “I covet your dishwashers,” she confessed.

Nate laughed softly. “That’s convenient. I covet having you and the twins move in with me.”

“So we’ll work it out.”

“Yes, we will,” he promised.

When she laid her head on his shoulder, he knew they were both smiling.

# # #

About the Author

EMMA Holly is the award winning, USA Today bestselling author of more than thirty romantic books, featuring vampires, demons, faeries and just plain extraordinary ordinary folks. She loves the hot stuff, both to read and to write!

If you’d like to find out what else she’s written, please visit her website at http://www.emmaholly.com.

Emma runs monthly contests and sends out newsletters that often include coupons for new ebooks. To receive them, go to her contest page.

Thanks so much for reading this book!

SELF-made billionaires Zane and Trey have been a club of two since they were eighteen. They’ve done everything together: play football, fall in love, even get smacked around by their dads. The only thing they haven’t tried is seducing the same woman.

Executive chef Rebecca Eilert learned early on not to trust anyone. She raised her brothers by herself—with no adult being the wiser. Her knack for cooking kept a roof over the twins’ heads. Now she’s damned if it won’t pay their way through Harvard as well. Add in running Trey’s latest restaurant, and her plate is way too full for romance.

That’s an attitude the bad boys intend to change. Zane and Trey have set their sights on the sexy chef. When their hearts enter the equation and they both fall for her, this committed twosome faces their hardest test of all.

“This book is a mesmerizing, beautiful and oh-my-gods-hot work of art!”—Bitten By Love reviews
available in ebook and print

Table of Contents

- Title Page
- Table of Contents
- Other Indie Titles by Emma Holly
- Hidden Talents . . .
- 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
- Six Months Later
- Hidden Depths . . .
- 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
- Epilogue
- Hidden Crimes . . .
- 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
- About the Author