“Are you seriously threatening to take a lover, Sayre?” he demanded, his deep voice causing chills to race across the surface of her skin.

“To let another man touch you?”

Lifting her chin, she kept her own narrowed gaze locked in tight on his burning one. “I’m not threatening. I’m stating a fact. You either stop this archaic bullshit you’ve been pulling, protecting my virginity like it’s something you expect me to keep for-freaking-ever, or I’ll end it for you.”

Cian drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, his shoulders seeming even broader as he came another step. “You really think I’ll allow that to happen?” he rasped in a low, almost silent slide of words.

“Just try to stop me,” she finally whispered, unable to shout when everything inside her was aching and raw. Incapable of enduring another moment in his presence, she turned and walked away from him. Though she was dying a little more with each step that she took, she kept her chin high, refusing to look back, even when he growled her name in that deep, delicious voice.

RHYANNON BYRD is an avid, longtime fan of romance and author of more than twenty paranormal and erotic titles. She has been nominated for three RT Reviewers’ Choice Awards, including Best Shapeshifter Romance. Rhyannon lives in the beautiful county of Warwickshire, with her husband and family. For information on Rhyannon’s books, visit her website at rhyannonbyrd.com, or find her on Facebook.

Blood Wolf

Dawning

Rhyannon Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my amazing editor, Ann Leslie Tuttle.

Mountains and oceans of appreciation for all that you’ve done for this series.

It wouldn’t have been the same without you!

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

If this was what falling for someone did to a person—what craving them felt like—then Sayre Murphy wanted no part of it. Ever. She might be young, as well as inexperienced, but she was a woman, damn it, and she knew when she was done.

When she had finally had enough!

With her back straight and her hands fisted at her sides, she stood in a moonlit Maryland forest, high on the mountain that the Silvercrest Lycans, her brethren, had owned for centuries. And she wasn’t alone. Standing a few yards in front of her was the most magnificent, infuriating, arrogant male she had ever known. One who treated her as if she were nothing more than a child and interfered in her life time and again, making it painfully clear that he never had any intention of seeing her as an adult female capable of making her own choices. It was an antiquated attitude—completely fitting with his dominant, alpha personality—and one she was entirely sick of.

Honestly, who cared that she was only eighteen? Did that make her a child? Hell no. A handful of weeks ago, she had fought beside her loved ones in a bloodthirsty war to protect their homeland. Had used the unique powers she possessed as a rare Lycan witch and sent grown male werewolves to their deaths. If that didn’t make her an adult in his eyes, then she wondered with frustration if anything ever would.

“I’ve had enough of this insanity,” she told him, determined to keep her voice from shaking. “It ends. Now.”

The tall Bloodrunner approached her, his dark-as-sin hair gleaming in the moonlight, narrowed silver eyes burning with fury. “You do not dictate to me,” he snarled, his lilting Irish brogue thicker than she’d ever heard it before. “Not now, not tomorrow and not the day after that. You will never control this. You understand me, lass?”

“I’m not interested in controlling you,” she shot back, fisting her hands even tighter, while deep within she felt the fiery heat of her power swirling with energy, desperate to break free. A rising power that she only managed to hang on to by a thread. “I’m simply making my position clear. You’re the one who’s been acting like a jealous ass. Not me!”

“I’m protecting you!” he roared in a voice that held dark, dangerous things that were so much more than human. As a male who was half werewolf, he was as deadly as he was beautiful. But she knew he would never cause her physical harm, even when he was glaring at her with such raw, seething fury.

The safety of her heart, however, was a different matter.

“I don’t need your protection. I never have.” Words rushed up into her mouth that were revealing and intimate—words she knew would make her vulnerable the moment they were spoken—and yet, she couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t hold them back. “I...I just need you,” she whispered, loving the way the muscles in his strong, corded throat moved beneath his skin as he gave a hard swallow, his blistering gaze fixed on her tongue as she nervously wet her lips. He watched her mouth with the hungry avidity of a predator who wanted to play and claim and mate, his body expanding with need, his rigid biceps straining the sleeves of his T-shirt. But the human half of him was too stubborn to give in.

“No,” he bit out, the denial emerging like a bitter piece of gravel stuck in his throat as he shook his head. And then again. “No.”

“Finally take what’s yours, or I’m finished,” she warned him, tired of the maddening double standard that existed between them. Of the way he could sleep with endless numbers of women, and yet, she wasn’t allowed to have a simple conversation with another male without him interfering. “I have friends,” she snapped. “Good ones. Male ones. Lycans who won’t reject me. Who won’t be so opposed to the idea of enjoying my body if I offer it to them.”

His head jerked back as if she’d suddenly struck him with her fist. Then his gaze sharpened and a muscle began to pulse rhythmically in the hard line of his jaw, while his breaths became rougher, eerily stark in the heavy stillness of the forest. The woods were unusually quiet, as if every living creature were tuned in to their argument, waiting with bated breath to see how it would end. This was a storm that had been brewing between them for months, its fury finally unleashed in a torrent of anger and hurt and maddening frustration.

“Are you seriously threatening to take a lover, Sayre?” he demanded, his deep voice causing chills to race across the surface of her skin. “To let another man touch you?”

Lifting her chin, she kept her own narrowed gaze locked in tight on his burning one. “I’m not threatening. I’m stating a fact. You either stop this archaic bullshit you’ve been pulling for months now, protecting my virginity like it’s something you expect me to keep for freaking ever, or I’ll end it for you.”

He drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, his shoulders seeming even broader as he came another step closer, his nearness causing her own breath to quicken. “You really think I’ll allow that to happen?” he rasped in a low, almost silent slide of words.

Sadness stabbed her right through the chest as she stared up at him, seeing his resolve in that piercing metallic gray, the phrase He’ll never want you...need you...accept you looping over and over within the darkness of her mind. She had asked him to meet her tonight so that she could make a final bid for her sanity. Had offered him her body, with no strings attached, desperate for a measure of relief from the incessant hunger rushing through her veins, her need for him growing stronger each day, until she was ill with it. But he’d turned her down, refusing to give her what he so casually gave to so many others, and all because fate had decided to screw with them for a laugh. The connection between them was nothing more than a sick, costly joke, and she and the Irishman were the ones who would pay.

But she was the one paying the most. Because while he eased his hunger with countless others, he refused to allow her to do the same. And though she didn’t want another male—how could she when she so desperately wanted him?—she was tired of playing the pathetic pawn in his twisted game. Tired of being alone. Of sleeping in an empty bed when his was always full.

“Just try to stop me,” she finally whispered, unable to shout when everything inside her was aching and raw. Incapable of enduring another moment in his presence, she turned and walked away from him. Though she was dying a little more with each step that she took, she kept her chin high, refusing to look back, even when he growled her name with that rough, delicious accent. She could feel the burning, savage intensity of his stare pressing against her skin until she was finally shielded from his view by the lush flora of the forest, the leaves and branches feeling as if they were reaching out to embrace her. She normally took comfort in the verdant plant life, loving the way its rich scent filled her head and soothed her nerves. But tonight she was too cold. Too shattered.

She would give him the rest of the night to brood and rage...and hopefully think over what she’d said. But that was all.

Pressing a trembling hand to her stomach, her next breath stuttered out on a broken sob, and yet, she refused to give in. She’d already cried enough over the stubborn male. All she could do now was pray that he would make the right choice and alter his path, embracing what they had, even if it were just for one night, instead of doing everything in his power to spurn it. But she was terrified that this was it. That it was over. Whatever it was.

Oh, God. Had she honestly thought that she could hold the tears inside? The hot, salty wetness on her cheeks was proof that she’d been wrong. But as awful, empty and alone as Sayre felt at that moment, it was nothing compared to what was coming. To the pain that waited for her, lurking like a killer in the darkness, ready to cut and rend...and completely destroy her.

Because when the sun rose over Maryland the following morning, the Irishman was already gone.

Chapter 1

Five years later

Morning sunlight glinted through the treetops as Cian Hennessey pulled onto the paved mountain road that led into Bloodrunner Alley. He tried to stay focused on what he was about to face, but his last night in the picturesque glade he’d called home for so many years kept playing through his mind. After his disastrous meeting with Sayre in the woods, he’d known he was done there—that he couldn’t stay. He’d waited until everyone had gone to bed, and then he’d packed his Land Rover with as many of his belongings as he could. His plan had been to take off before anyone noticed, but Eli Drake, a badass Lycan mercenary who had recently returned to the Silvercrest werewolf pack after years of banishment, had found him before he could get away.

“You can’t run from fate, man,” Eli had lectured him. “Take that from someone who knows. Even when you try to convince yourself that leaving is the right thing to do, it’s nothing but a goddamn lie. And it all comes back to bite you hard in the ass when it finally catches up to you.”

That had been five years ago. If he’d known just how true Eli’s words would prove to be, he might have paid more attention to them. But he’d been so sure he knew what needed to be done. That the path he’d been set on taking was not only the right choice, but also his only choice.

In the end, Cian had finally realized that he hadn’t known a damn thing. All he’d managed to do was postpone the inevitable. But he’d been around long enough to understand that there wasn’t any point in wishing for a do-over. What was done was done, and nothing he could do would ever change that. He just had to chalk it up as another entry on the long list of regrets that he lived with, and focus on how to make the best of the situation at present.

So here he was, returning to the only place he’d ever truly thought of as home. At least since he’d left his childhood behind. The scenery might not be as dramatic as the craggy seaside cliffs near Killian’s Mount in Ireland, where he’d been raised as a boy, but the mountains held an undeniable beauty. And the half-human/half-Lycan hunters who lived there were not only his friends, but also his family in the truest sense of the word.

Hell, the Runners were more like family to him than anyone who still walked this earth and shared his blood. And yet, he’d turned his back on them because of her. Because of a little slip of a witch named Sayre Murphy. Until today, he hadn’t seen or spoken to them since he’d left that fateful night. Not even an email or a text. So there was no telling what kind of reception he was about to receive from the men and women who protected the Silvercrest pack from its enemies.

He only knew it wasn’t likely to be a warm one.

Parking the black Audi he’d arranged to have waiting for him at Dulles in the grass at the side of the road, he turned off the engine and climbed out, his narrowed eyes taking in his surroundings while he shut the car door and slipped the key fob in his front pocket. As he drew in a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, the scent of the surrounding forest was so achingly familiar that, for a moment, he felt as if his chest might crush inward from the force of regret pressing in on him.

But despite the familiarity of that woodsy scent, the Alley hadn’t remained unchanged in his absence, the passage of time marked by differences that were both big and small. He hadn’t been there to see the picnic tables repainted, or to help with the completion of the impressive cabins that now stood at the far end of the glade. Had missed the paving of the road and the additions that had been built onto many of the original cabins, where his friends and their mates lived. He could have undoubtedly spotted more changes, but the sight of the tall, auburn-haired Bloodrunner headed straight for him diverted his attention.

The welcoming party, it appeared, was on its way. Though there definitely didn’t seem to be anything remotely welcoming about it. No, if he were reading the situation correctly, his former Bloodrunning partner, Brody Carter, looked more likely to throw a bone-crushing punch than he did to go in for a bro hug, and something sharp twisted in Cian’s chest.

What did you expect? the wolf part of his nature grumbled inside his head. He might have been our best friend, but you destroyed that when you turned your back on him. Asshole.

Knowing damn well how true the beast’s snide words were, he hardened his jaw, determined to take whatever Brody felt like dishing out without retaliating. He pushed his hands in his pockets and waited as Brody closed in on him, surprised to see that the guy looked even bigger than he’d been before. Brody had always been muscular, but now he was cut in a way that was truly impressive, his tall body rippling with power as he stalked toward him. The Runner’s auburn hair was long again, but pulled back from his scarred face. And there were little laugh lines that crinkled at the edges of his green eyes, attesting to the fact that he was a happily married man who loved his life—even if those green eyes were currently narrowed in fury. Not that he could blame him. If Brody had bailed on the Alley the way Cian had, he would have been so angry it’d be hard to hold back.

Behind Brody’s broad shoulder, he spotted the guy’s human wife, Michaela, as she came down the porch steps of her and Brody’s cabin. The Cajun’s dark hair was still long and curly, and even from that distance Cian could tell that she remained incredibly beautiful. Marriage obviously suited the two of them, and he found himself remembering back to the obstacles they’d faced when they’d first gotten together.

During the last months that Cian had lived in the Alley, there were times when he’d felt like one hell of a matchmaker. On several occasions, he’d even gone so far as to claim that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes he’d watched his friends make when his own woman finally came along—but in the end, it’d been nothing but talk. Talk he couldn’t back up, because happily-ever-after had never been an option for him.

Instead, finding his woman meant he should run as far and as fast as he could in the opposite direction, and never look back. The kindest that fate could have been was to connect him with a female who wasn’t a part of the Silvercrest. One he could ignore and keep his distance from, without leaving his friends. But that hadn’t happened.

No, he’d been linked with beautiful little Sayre. That right there just proved that the universe had an exceptionally sick sense of humor.

Though he tried not to fixate on her, he kept scanning the Alley beyond Brody, searching for that familiar heart-shaped face and strawberry-blond hair. But she wasn’t there. Besides Brody and Mic, the place was unusually empty. He’d texted Brody’s old number when he’d landed, warning him that he was coming, and had naturally assumed that Sayre would be waiting for him. She no doubt had a hell of a lot to say to him, after the way he’d left. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t once tried to contact her in the last five years. But there wasn’t any sign of her. He told himself not to panic, that she most likely didn’t live in the Alley and was probably up in Shadow Peak, the mountaintop town that the Silvercrest Lycans called home, which was only a few miles away. Hell, she could be on her way down to see him at that very moment.

But when he pulled in another deep, searching breath, his heart started to hammer even harder as he realized that Sayre’s mouthwatering scent was nowhere to be found. Not even the slightest trace. It made a cold sliver of fear begin to coil through his insides, keeping company with his tension. From the moment her older sister, Jillian, had moved down to the Alley to live with a Bloodrunner named Jeremy Burns, Sayre had been a constant feature at the couple’s cabin. So what was keeping her away now?

Looking at Brody, who had just come to a stop no more than five feet in front of him, he cut off whatever the Runner was going to say with a rough, impatient burst of words. “I know you want to tell me to get lost, and after the way I left, you have every right. But I came back for a reason. I need to talk to Sayre. Where is she?”

Brody’s green eyes burned with an even brighter surge of anger. “You think she’s with the pack?”

Cian scowled. “Where else would she be?”

God, if she’d found someone and moved away with him he was going to completely lose it.

Michaela reached her husband’s side, a concerned look on her beautiful face as she said, “Cian, Sayre doesn’t live with the Silvercrest anymore.”

Thinking this must be some kind of ploy to either screw with him or protect the young witch, he held Michaela’s troubled gaze. “I’m not here to make things hard for her, Mic. I just...I came back because I need to talk to her.”

Though human, Michaela possessed the unique ability to psychically “read” others’ emotions, and Cian could only imagine what she was picking up from him at that moment: frustration, fear, guilt, anger, regret and, beneath it all, a seething, never-ending need for something he could never have. She slid Brody a quick glance, then delicately cleared her throat as she looked at Cian and said, “We’re not lying. As much as I hate to say it, she honestly isn’t here.”

So many raw, visceral curses suddenly crowded into his throat, he thought he might choke on them. He swallowed a few times, then finally managed to scrape out a single word. “Why?”

His insides twisted when he noticed the way they glanced at each other again, as if neither of them knew how much to tell him. Or what to tell him.

“After you left,” Michaela finally murmured, taking a careful breath, “there were...well, some things changed.”

“What kind of things? What the hell are you talking about?”

He’d kept up on the pack enough through third parties to know that the Silvercrest had flourished in the past five years, thanks to the hard work of the Runners. They might have still been recovering from their war against the neighboring Whiteclaw pack when he’d left, but it’d been clear even then that they’d become a force too powerful for anyone to mess with. Nothing had happened in these mountains that should have necessitated Sayre leaving. Not unless it was something personal, and the secrets he could see burning in his friends’ eyes were seriously pissing him off.

“Stop worrying about how I’m going to react,” he said, “and just spit it out.”

Michaela sighed. “Cian, Sayre isn’t the same.” At his darkening look, she hurried to explain. “Not long after you took off, Sayre went into a decline and suffered a...breakdown. Not only was she wrecked because of the way you abandoned everyone, but she’d also been dealing with some pretty powerful issues in private. Her powers had been increasing at an abnormal rate, but she didn’t want to worry anyone and tried to hide it as much as she could. But after the war, it eventually got to be too much for her, and she had to get away and be on her own. She hasn’t lived here in over four and a half years.”

Four and a half years? Reeling, he tried to suck in a sharp breath, but his lungs had locked down. He was sealed in a goddamn vise of disbelief, the roaring in his head making him flinch. No. No, damn it. This can’t be happening. He didn’t want to believe, but he could tell by the looks on their faces that they were telling him the truth.

Somehow, he managed to choke out, “Where. Is. She?”

“It’s too much of a strain on her system when she’s around other people, so she lives by herself just over the border, in a cabin in West Virginia.”

His throat was so tight with fear he could barely speak. “And there’s no one there to help her? She’s completely alone?”

Brody jerked his chin up and scowled. “She doesn’t like to be around anyone. Even Jillian and Jeremy. It physically pains her to pick up on others’ physical and emotional energy.”

Cian paced away from them and lowered his head, staring at the tips of his heavy black leather boots. He shoved his hands into his hair, pushing it away from his face as he squeezed his skull, working everything he’d just learned through his head. Christ, all this time he’d thought she was safe, surrounded by her family and friends, when he couldn’t have been more wrong. She was alone, damn it. On her own in the middle of fucking nowhere!

Rage seared its way through his veins in a thick, eviscerating spill, and he lowered his arms and fisted his hands at his sides as he turned back around and took an aggressive step toward Brody. Five years ago, he’d left a single message for his partner that read: Take care of her. But that obviously hadn’t happened.

Locking his furious gaze with Brody’s green one, he snarled, “I trusted you.”

“Yeah, I trusted you, too,” the Runner shot back, curling his upper lip. “But that didn’t stop you from running like a coward, did it?”

Cian struggled to control his temper and calm his harsh breaths, but the darkness inside him was rising, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost the fight against it. Which meant he needed to get the hell out of there. “I need directions to where she is,” he growled. “Now.”

Brody snorted and shook his head, looking at him with disgust. “It’s been five years, Cian. Why the sudden hurry?”

Before he could respond, Michaela reached into the pocket of her long skirt and pulled out a small piece of paper. “You both just need to calm down. This isn’t going to help anyone.” Offering him the paper, she said, “I already wrote the information down for you after you sent Brody that text.”

Her husband shot her a disgruntled look. “What the hell, Mic?”

She slid Brody an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but she deserves the chance to deal with this on her own.”

Cian didn’t speak as he grabbed the tiny slip of paper from Michaela’s hand. A quick glance showed that she’d written down a brief set of directions along with several names and phone numbers.

“The others will be sorry they missed you,” she told him. “They’ve taken all the kids down to the beach for two weeks in South Carolina. But we chose to stay home because Jack’s still too young for that kind of thing.”

He opened his mouth, a hundred different questions on his tongue. Jack? Kids? Exactly how many did his friends have now? What were their names, ages and genders? His curiosity was strong—but his fear for Sayre’s safety was stronger.

Snapping his mouth shut, Cian turned and headed back to the sleek sports car he’d left parked in the grass. Just as he opened the driver’s-side door, Brody grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around, getting right in his face. “What the hell are you up to, Hennessey?”

“I’m bringing her back where she belongs.”

The three thin scars that slashed across Brody’s tanned face turned white as he grimaced. “She won’t come back with you. We begged her, but she was adamant. You really think you’ll be able to change her mind after leaving like you did?”

“The difference is that I don’t plan on asking, or begging. I’m not giving her a choice,” he ground out, digging the key fob from his pocket. “I’ll tie her up and throw her over my shoulder if I have to, but one way or another, she is coming back to where it’s safe.”

The Runner’s green eyes widened with comprehension. “What aren’t you telling us?” he demanded, tightening the brutal grip he had on his shoulder.

Looking his former partner right in the eye, Cian said, “I don’t have the time to get into this, Brody. But I will explain when I get back.”

“Are we in danger?” he asked in a low voice, showing no signs of backing down.

Cian shook his head, hoping like hell that it wasn’t a lie. But he had no reason to believe that the Runners were targets. If that were the case, something would have happened a long time ago, when Cian had been one of them.

A knowing light started to burn in Brody’s eyes. “Is Sayre in danger? Is that what this is about?”

“If she is, what is it to you?” he growled, hating the way that Brody was looking at him—with years’ worth of fury and hurt and disappointment that made him feel completely worthless.

Deep voice vibrating with rage, the Runner said, “It’s important to me because I was your partner and your best friend, asshole. So that was on me. You don’t think I felt responsible when you just up and ran? I had to watch that girl deal with your betrayal while everything was falling apart for her, and felt guilty as hell for not figuring out what you were up to. Because you can bet that if I had, I would have saved her from having to deal with whatever bullshit you’ve brought down on her head now.”

Struggling to hold on to his control, he forced his response through his gritted teeth. “I don’t have time for this, man. You want to beat me down when I get back with her, then fine. Go for it. I’m sure it’s exactly what I deserve. But right now, I’ve got to go.”

“You want to leave,” Brody seethed, his towering height allowing him to go nose-to-nose with Cian, “then you tell me what’s going on. Is Sayre in danger?”

Through the thrashing of his pulse in his ears, he heard himself say, “She’s been in danger from the moment I first realized she was mine.”

“From who? You?”

“No,” he grunted, choking back the bile that rose in his throat. “From an old enemy of mine.”

“What old enemy? What the hell does that mean? Don’t we all have the same enemies?”

Jerking free of the Runner’s hold, Cian climbed into the car and slammed the door. Brody banged on the window with his fist, but he ignored him as he cranked the engine, then twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder and floored the accelerator as he reversed down the road.

He felt exactly like the asshole Brody had called him for leaving like this, knowing they were going to worry. But, damn it, he didn’t have time to waste on explanations. He needed to get to West Virginia, to the girl he’d left behind, before it was too late and he lost his chance.

Your chance to do what? Save her life? his wolf muttered. Because that’s the only thing you have a chance in hell of saving when it comes to you and her. You’ve screwed up too badly for any “second chances” with the girl. And don’t think I’m ever going to let you forget it.

He ground his back teeth together, not wanting to hear it—any of it. Then he felt something slick and cold stir to life inside him, meandering its way through his veins, and suddenly the beast’s nagging seemed the far lesser of two evils. Yeah, the wolf part of his nature might be a pain in the ass at times, but at least it was noble. Hard and vicious and animalistic, yes; but it lived its life according to a code.

Unfortunately, the wolf wasn’t the only thing living beneath his skin, and Cian wanted to claw at his heart until he could rip the blackened organ from his chest. Because that was where the “other” part of him lived. And it wasn’t noble or honest or loyal. It was nothing but hunger and rage and greed. An evil so twisted he’d always hated its existence. Had hidden it away, even from those who were closest to him. Who’d fought at his side, and put not only their lives in his hands, but also the lives of those who meant the most to them.

But now there was no more running. No more avoiding the inevitable...or his past...or those parts of his life that he wished he could simply erase from existence, like a hard rain could wash away grime and filth.

He could search the world over, but he wasn’t ever going to find a rain that came down hard enough to wash him clean.

Glancing over at the passenger’s seat, he spotted the crumpled bit of paper he’d tossed there earlier, the handful of words penned onto its surface carved into his memory like a blade scoring flesh.

Cian,

I imagine you’d hoped I wouldn’t learn your secret, but I have. I’ll give you a head start—though you better hurry. It’s time for the little witch and me to play.

A

It was a message that had chilled him to the bone the instant he’d woken in his Dublin apartment and found it waiting on his bedside table. His worst nightmare had come to life, because it meant that his oldest enemy had finally learned the truth about Sayre. That she was his. His life mate. The one female in the world who had been created for him and him alone.

And now his bastard of a brother intended to kill her.

Chapter 2

Sayre Murphy stiffened at the sound of a car smoothly rumbling its way through the quiet forest that surrounded her home; a noise she didn’t often hear these days. She pulled off her gardening gloves and moved to her feet, turning away from the flourishing herb garden she’d been tending to cast a worried look toward the narrow dirt road that led right to her cabin. It wasn’t even noon yet, but the heat was already oppressive, which was why she was dressed in a pair of cutoff shorts and a tank top and nothing more. She no longer had any need to dress for company, and she sure as hell hadn’t been expecting any. Jillian and the others knew better than to show up unannounced, which meant that whoever was coming up her drive wasn’t going to be anyone in her family.

And that meant they could be looking for trouble.

She dropped her gloves beside a leafy, aromatic patch of basil and flexed her hands at her sides, confident that she could deal with any threat that might be approaching. As a Lycan witch, she didn’t possess the ability to shape-shift like the others in her pack—but with the strength of her powers these days, it didn’t matter. She could zap any person or creature that tried to get near her with a jolt of pure energy that had brought grown Lycans to their knees.

“Ohmyfreakinggod.” The hoarse words slipped past her lips as a sleek black sports car came around the last bend in the road and she caught sight of the driver. Stunned, she lurched back as if she’d suddenly been kicked in the stomach. Cian Hennessey was the last person she’d ever expected to see, and she shuddered, every blasphemy she could think of screaming through her head. Gripping the front of her tank top, directly over the thundering beat of her heart, she pushed down as if she needed the physical pressure to keep the racing organ inside her chest.

His pale gray eyes were locked hard on hers as he killed the engine, opened the door and unfolded his long, powerful body from behind the steering wheel. The sight of him had her stumbling back again, and she nearly fell on her bottom when the right heel of her hiking boot connected with the wooden edge of a flower bed.

The morning sun was behind him now, shining directly into her eyes. It was difficult to make out his features as he headed directly for her, his long-legged stride making short work of the yards that separated them. But she felt him with every part of her. The pull between them was so strong she could have counted his thudding heartbeats down to the minute, or his quickening intakes of air. The closer he came, the more heightened her sensory perception grew, and she really hoped that it didn’t work in the reverse. She didn’t want this man reading her. Didn’t want him to feel the rushing of her pulse or the heat gathering beneath her skin, warm and thick and wild.

And she sure as hell didn’t want him to know that there was a part of her breaking into sharp, jagged little pieces deep inside just because she was looking at him, breathing him in, completely and embarrassingly glomming on to every exquisite detail, after believing for so long that she’d never see him again. She knew there wasn’t a man alive who could make jeans, a black T-shirt and boots look so unbelievably good—his body appearing even harder than it’d been before, as if he’d spent the past five years engaged in brutal combat.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded as firmly as possible, when he came to a stop no more than ten feet in front of her and she finally managed to find her voice. The way his long-lashed silver gaze swept hotly over her figure, taking her in from head to toe as if he had every right to what he saw had her vibrating with pure, volcanic rage. The freaking nerve of the guy! “No, scratch that. I don’t care why you’re here. Just get back in your car and go away, Hennessey. I don’t want you here.”

He didn’t respond to her outburst in any way other than to take a step closer, and she was surprised when she found herself pulling in even deeper breaths of air through her nose, just so she could soak in that sexy-as-sin scent of his. A heady combination of the outdoors, musk and salt, it sat on her tongue like something she wanted to savor and suck on, and keep it there forever. She’d always enjoyed the way Cian had smelled, even when he carried the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his skin, but...whoa, her reaction had never been this intense before, as if she wanted to rub up against him like a kitten and get that mouthwatering scent all over her. More than a little rattled, she snapped, “Well? Are you going to stand there staring at me all day or are you at least going to say something?”

“Sorry,” he rasped, the lilting sound of the brogue she knew he’d developed while growing up in Ireland even stronger than she remembered it, making her wonder where he’d been living. His tongue touched the corner of his mouth, and his thick lashes lowered over eyes she could have sworn had started to glow like melting metal, despite the tiredness she could see in them. “I just...you surprised me,” he added gruffly. “I didn’t expect you to be even more beautiful than you were before.”

Wearing cutoff denim shorts with a threadbare tank top and scuffed boots on her feet, her long hair in a crazy swarm of curls around her shoulders and dirt probably smeared on her cheek? Um, yeah, like she was really rocking an attractive look at the moment. Shaking her head, she snorted at his lame-ass attempt at flattery. “We’ve never lied to each other before, Cian. It would be pointless to start now.”

“I’m not lying, lass. You’re...” He trailed off as his breath left his lungs on a sharp exhalation, and he cursed as he slowly rubbed one of his hands over his wide mouth. “You were always pretty, but the only word I can think of that does you any justice now is stunning.”

The scowl on her face became a little fiercer, and she wanted to tell him to take his bullshit and shove it up his backside. She knew she looked different than the scrawny eighteen-year-old he’d left behind—she was curvier now, her hair was longer and wilder, and God only knew she had more freckles on her nose and shoulders thanks to all the hours she spent outdoors—but she didn’t look that different.

And he was...damn him, he was still just as gorgeous as ever. Other than the shorter cut of his hair, he didn’t look as if he’d changed at all, even though he had to be pushing close to forty by now. His features were still chiseled, but ruggedly male, the shadow of stubble on his lean cheeks and square chin giving his already dangerous good looks an even sharper, more aggressive edge. All broad shoulders and masculine lines, ripped and lean and deliciously cut. The kind of guy that women acted like idiots over, losing their self-esteem somewhere down around their ankles, right along with their underwear.

Then there was his bravery and intelligence and his wicked sense of humor. His undeniable loyalty to his friends and family.

Well, that last bit could no doubt be scratched from the list now, seeing as how he’d turned his back on them as completely as he had on her. But before that...God, before that, Cian Hennessey could have been exactly what she’d wanted.

If he’d only wanted her in return.

“Cian, please,” she said as carefully as she could manage, praying her voice wouldn’t tremble. “Say whatever you came to say and then leave. I honestly don’t want you here. It isn’t...it isn’t good for me.”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed, his voice low and rough in a way that had never failed to make her shiver from the inside out. “There’s a lot I need to explain. I know that, Sayre. But we don’t have the time. We need to leave this place.”

“Not a chance,” she said, wondering if he’d been hit over his gorgeous head with a crazy stick. “We don’t need to do anything. I live here; you don’t. Whatever you want from me is nothing but a waste of your time. I don’t give second chances.”

Frustration shot through his narrowed eyes, making them as dark as smoke. “You never even really gave me a first chance, much less a second one.”

Amazed by those quiet, almost bitter words, she slowly shook her head, then pulled her shoulders back and glared. “That’s total crap and you know it. And don’t make it sound like you even wanted one.”

“Then don’t act like you know what I wanted,” he argued roughly, “because you never had a goddamn clue.”

Her control shredded like a cheap pair of tights, and she heard herself snarl, “You made my life hell!”

He came another step closer. “Right back at you, Sayre.”

“Then why are you even here?” she shouted, watching his eyes widen as he slowly looked her over again. Oh...hell. Her power had just slipped free of her hold with the galvanic rise of her temper, skittering around her body in a fine spray of tiny, golden sparks.

Damn it, it was just her luck that she looked like a freaking sparkler every time she lost control of her emotions these days. With her hands fisted at her sides, she waited for him to comment on the bizarre display, knowing it was shocking even in their nothing-is-normal world.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he rubbed his hand over his mouth again, almost as if he were wiping away whatever words were waiting there. Then he cleared his throat, muttered a low curse and looked her right in the eye as he said, “There isn’t time to explain, but you can’t stay here, Sayre. I’m taking you back to the Alley, where you belong.”

She blinked back at him, unable to believe his arrogance. He acted as though he had every right to just stroll back into her life and take control. “Cian, even if I wanted to go back to the Alley, I couldn’t.” Her voice almost shook with a telling tremor as she added, “I can’t stand to be around other people.”

It occurred to her, as soon as the words left her lips, that she wasn’t experiencing any pain—at least physically—while standing there with him. If he didn’t mention it, then she sure as heck wasn’t going to. But he was staring at her so intently with those incredible metallic eyes, she felt as if he were trying to take an intimate stroll through her mind, to dig out all her secret thoughts and emotions and truths, and in a sudden change of heart, she almost wished that he could. It would serve him right, because while he wouldn’t have any trouble finding her desire for him, he’d also witness firsthand just how deeply her anger and disappointment ran. And it was deep. As deep as her freaking soul.

Finally, he pulled in a somewhat ragged breath, slowly exhaled and broke the tension-filled standoff. “I went to the Alley this morning,” he confessed in a low voice. “Brody and Mic told me why you had to leave.” His tongue flicked against the corner of his mouth again, and he shook his head a little. “I didn’t know, Sayre. All this time, I thought you were still with them. That you were protected.”

“Don’t,” she muttered, realizing that Michaela hadn’t even called to warn her that Cian was coming. She couldn’t believe her sister’s friend would do that to her. The traitor! “I don’t need your pity, Cian.”

His mouth twisted, and she couldn’t help but stare, thinking about what it would be like to feel those sensual lips against hers. She might not know many things about pleasure, but she knew how to kiss. She’d kissed her share of cute boys in her teens, and had enjoyed the hell out of it, though she’d never been willing to go further than that. Turns out it’d been a stupid choice. Back then, she’d had her girlish head filled with the idea of an everlasting, romantic love when she found her life mate, like Jillian and Jeremy had. Not that their road to happiness had been all sunshine and roses, but she wanted what they’d worked so hard for and had found in the end. Wanted it so badly that she’d been willing to fight for it, too. To earn it. Cherish it. Him. Her man.

Then fate had played the cruelest joke possible, and given her the Irishman. Yes, he was the most insanely sexy and gorgeous and powerful male she’d ever encountered. But he was the worst womanizer in existence. Sayre had heard all the rumors about the pack females he’d bedded until they could barely walk straight. Of his extreme intensity. His talent, skill and stamina, and the way a woman was never quite the same after she’d experienced his bed...or any of the other hundreds of places Sayre had heard he’d taken them.

She’d wanted a man who would love her and build a life with her. And, instead, she’d been given the one who’d always looked at her as if he couldn’t quite stand to be in her presence.

She still remembered the moment when she’d finally realized why there was so much tension between them—the moment she recognized exactly what he was to her. They’d been in a roomful of people, surrounded by their friends, and she knew he’d already picked up on what was between them, or at least suspected it, when he looked over at her and caught her stunned expression. She’d been torn between agony and a need that was so strong she’d had to reach out and brace herself against the wall. Her eighteenth birthday had already come and gone, but he’d looked at her as if she were nothing more than an annoying child.

In that moment, Sayre had been so frightened of how badly he could hurt her. Of the pain he could inflict—not to her body, but to her heart. But then, standing there across from him in that crowded room, her conscience had chided her for being judgmental and not even giving him a chance. For one brief, incredible moment, hope had flooded her system, filling her with heat, and she’d given him a tentative smile. One that no doubt said, I think you’re beautiful and you’re mine and I vow to do everything I can to make you happy. Everything I can to make you want me...make you love me.

He’d answered her unspoken message by taking his phone out and holding her stare as he called someone. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but she could read enough of the words on his lips to know he’d just called one of them. A woman he would take to his bed and bury himself inside, giving her what belonged to Sayre.

Her girlish heart had died a little that night. And then a little more with each night that went by and he lost himself inside female after female, never attempting to hide what he was up to.

Over the weeks and months, life on the mountain had become intolerable because of him. It was obvious that he had no intention of ever acknowledging the connection between them, and yet, he hadn’t liked her spending time with other males. Not even with Max Doucet and Elliot Connors, who were her closest friends, and the youngest of the Bloodrunners.

The final straw had come a few weeks after the war they’d won over the neighboring Whiteclaw pack. Finally deciding she was done with whatever stupid game he’d been playing with her, the next time Sayre got him alone, she’d given him an ultimatum: he could either stop acting like a jackass and take her virginity, or she was going to say to hell with it all and give it up to the first of her male friends who agreed. He’d been livid at her threat, but she’d refused to back down.

Instead, she’d left his ass standing there in the forest, and had walked away.

What had happened that night had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done, putting herself out there like that, but she’d been fueled by ridiculous hope that it would make a difference. A hope she’d refused to admit even to herself at the time. But now, looking back, Sayre knew she’d been gambling her pride on the idea that if she could just get Cian to touch her, he’d realize she was all he needed and that they were meant to be together.

God, she’d been such a pathetic little fool.

In the morning, she’d heard that he’d left the Alley and nobody knew where he’d gone, or if he would ever return. Her heart had been completely shattered, but within a few days it became clear that more than just her heart had been altered by his absence. And while the others had become aware of her increasing problems with her powers, none of them had ever figured out her secret—and she sure as hell never planned on telling them the truth.

Now, after everything that had happened and all the time that had passed, she could hardly believe he was standing in front of her. All the pain she’d tried so hard to bury these past years came rushing back in a surge of emotion, cutting its way through her insides like a scalpel, and she shuddered as she took another step back from him, shaking, no doubt turning as pale as a ghost. She watched his eyes darken with sympathy, and her palm tingled with the urge to slap his beautiful, faithless face.

“I didn’t know,” he said again, the rough words sounding scraped from his throat. “I would have come home sooner, Sayre. I wouldn’t have stayed away. I was only trying to—”

“Stop!” she snapped, cutting him off. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear it, because if you say you left to protect me from your big bad self, so help me, God, I just might have to kill you.”

He pulled in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring as he shoved one of those big hands back through his thick, dark-as-midnight hair. She’d never seen it as short as it was now, the ends only just brushing the back of his collar. “You know, I should have left for that reason. But I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have had the strength. As bad as I am, Sayre, I left to protect you from something even worse.”

“Oh, God, that’s funny,” she said with a choked laugh, wrapping her arms around her middle. But no matter how tightly she squeezed, she still felt like she teetered on the cusp of falling apart. “What could be worse than you?”

He flinched at that brutal assessment, but didn’t back down. “It’s a long story and we don’t have the time to get into it now. I just...I need you to trust me.”

“Cian, just stop,” she said with a derisive snort. “I honestly didn’t know you could be this freaking hilarious.”

“This isn’t a goddamn joke,” he muttered, giving her a look that seemed to say he was thinking of putting her over his knee and swatting her backside. And, God, did that piss her off. He’d lost the right to even think about putting his hands on her.

“You’re damned right it’s not a joke,” she seethed, crackling with so much energy she was in danger of singeing her beloved garden. “Now get the hell off my land!”

“Sayre.” He said her name on a long, drawn-out sigh, sounding too much like an adult who’d lost his patience with an unruly teen, and she felt her fury tip from emotion...right into action. Bathed in a fiery shower of sparks, she reached behind her and whipped out the gun she always kept tucked against her lower back when she was outside on her own. Just because she didn’t need the weapon didn’t mean it didn’t come in handy. Especially when dealing with rowdy human males who wandered onto her land, thinking they could cause trouble with the woman who lived there on her own. And right now, it felt unbelievably sweet to point the gleaming barrel directly at Cian Hennessey’s no-good heart.

He shot her a dry look and slowly arched one of his raven-black brows. “It’s a pretty toy,” he drawled, the lazy way he crossed his muscular arms over his chest telling her he didn’t believe for one second that she’d shoot him. “But you know that bullets won’t kill me, Sayre.”

“They might not kill you, but they’ll hurt like a bitch.”

“You really think I could believe that you’d pull the trigger? You’re a healer, not a—”

“Seriously?” she laughed, cutting him off as she unlocked the safety with a practiced flick of her thumb. “You might have watched me grow up, Cian, but don’t for an instant think that you know what I’m capable of as a woman. I’ve had to deal with more crap since you left than you could ever imagine. People change. I’ve changed. So when I pull a gun out, you can bet your ass that I plan to use it.”

His sexy mouth pressed into a hard, irritated, challenging line. “Then do it.”

She aimed for less than an inch from the toe of his right boot, and fired a perfect shot.

“Shit!” he cursed, jumping back a step. “What the hell, woman? Have you lost your bloody mind?”

“I told you I’d do it.” She kept her tone hard and cold, determined to make him see that she meant business, and slowly raised her aim. “So tell me, Cian. Do you really want to play this game?”

He worked his jaw for a few seconds, no doubt cursing her to hell and back. Then his scowl smoothed out, and his eyes narrowed to the point that it was impossible to read the look in them. Whatever he was thinking as he calmly turned on his heel and headed back to his car—the back view of his tall, powerful body damn near as mouthwatering as the front—was something he didn’t want her to pick up on. And that made her nervous.

When she called his name out, just as he was opening his car door, he looked back at her over his broad shoulder, and she gave him a sharp, icy smile. “If you like your body without any extra holes in it, don’t bother coming back.”

Chapter 3

Knowing Sayre needed some time to calm down, Cian climbed back into the Audi. He drove nearly a quarter of a mile down the mountain, then pulled over into a flat grassy area on the side of the road and parked. Though he never would have believed it, the beautiful little witch had been ready to put a freaking bullet in him. He’d have been incredibly proud over the way she’d stood up for herself, if her target had been anything other than his own body...and the circumstances weren’t so serious.

But they were, which was why there was no way in hell he was tucking his tail between his legs and running. This was nothing but a change in strategy, and a good hunter always knew when to step back and regroup. So while he might have let her think she’d won the first round, he was already focused on the second, determined to be the one who came out on top in the end.

On top of her, you mean, the wolf’s gravelly voice rumbled in his head, and he rolled his eyes at the beast’s wishful thinking. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice—and by nice he meant fucking exceptional—but he knew that sex was the last damn thing he could afford to think about in connection with Sayre. Too much of that already took place when he finally allowed himself to sleep.

Though he’d tried not to, Cian had been dreaming about Sayre Murphy from the moment he’d walked away. Hell, even before that, when he was still living in the Alley and fighting his need for her on a daily basis. But the dreams had been...evolving over the last few months, and while many of them were more nightmare than fantasy now, the erotic ones were becoming shockingly intense. Not that they’d ever been tame—but there was a feverish, visceral edge to them now that had him strung so tightly he was surprised he hadn’t snapped. Over the past few weeks, he’d awakened so many times thrusting and clawing at his sheets that he’d started to feel like a perpetually randy teen again, and God only knew he’d spent too many years perfecting that testosterone-driven stage of his life.

But even his dreams hadn’t done the reality of her justice.

Sayre at eighteen had been beautiful. But Sayre at twenty-three was enough to make him want to sell his goddamn soul for the chance to touch her. She was that incredible. So earthy and warm and sensual that it’d taken every ounce of his strength to claw on to his control when he’d approached her, instead of taking her down to the ground and claiming every inch of her lush little body for his own.

Only the certainty that she’d hate him in the end had enabled him to fight that fierce, possessive pull. That...and the fact that he had no business touching her when he could never give her the things she deserved. Christ, he couldn’t even give her next month, much less promises of love and a family and forever.

Careful to stay hidden, he made his way back up the mountain on foot and studied her cabin from the shelter of the woods. The place was small but pretty, surrounded by a large, colorful garden that was obviously well tended. But the location couldn’t have been more remote if she’d moved to the wilds of Alaska, and it twisted his insides to think of her being stuck out here all alone. It was the last thing in the world he would have expected for the girl who’d always greeted everyone with a smile and a hug; she’d always been an effortless little social butterfly who people couldn’t help but want to be around.

Though there were a lot of Lycans who went away to attend university among the human population, he knew that Sayre had planned on going to a local school for a degree in environmental studies. He hadn’t understood why she was so determined to stay with the pack while she continued her education, but now he thought that maybe he did. If her powers had been increasing to the point that she was having trouble dealing with them, she might have worried over what would happen if she were too far away from her family. He hated that she’d carried that kind of burden back then; girls in their teens didn’t need to be worrying about such serious issues. But Sayre had fought in the war right along with the rest of her family, and it’d been apparent even then that her powers were...different. She’d already been capable of firing powerful bursts of light from her hands, and had taken down the enemy with a skill that had completely shocked him—though young, she’d shown no mercy to those who would have harmed her loved ones.

And now this. Instead of finishing her studies and starting to find her way in the world, she was living like a recluse in the goddamn mountains, all alone. No family. No friends. He felt to blame, even though he hadn’t been there. But wasn’t it better for her to be alone than to be with someone like him?

Not wanting to think about the answer to that question, he glanced at the thick, military-grade watch on his wrist, surprised she hadn’t come down to check that he’d followed her orders and left. Did she actually believe he would just turn and walk away when her life was in danger?

Only you never actually got around to telling her that part, did you? his beast muttered, making him scowl. He didn’t need the animal telling him what he already knew. Yeah, he should have explained the seriousness of the situation to her right from the start, but he’d had his reasons for holding back.

At first, he’d simply been too dumbstruck by how she’d changed, and he couldn’t blame himself for that. He’d all but been knocked back on his ass by the sight of her. But then he’d told her there wasn’t time to explain, which was bullshit. He could have made the time, but the fact was that he simply hadn’t been ready to spill the whole sordid story. Telling her meant giving her one more reason to hate him, and she already had enough of those.

But no matter how angry she was, or how much the situation sucked, he wasn’t leaving this mountain without her. He might have turned his back on her before, but only because he’d thought it was the best way to keep her safe.

Only...the danger had found her anyway, hadn’t it? Which meant that for all his running, he was still stuck in the same destructive loop, and there didn’t seem to be any way out of it. Not until Aedan no longer hung over his life like a malevolent shadow, ready to wreak pain, terror and death on anything that he wanted for himself.

The minutes moved by in a slow crawl, the air hot and sticky with humidity, though he barely noticed, his attention completely fixated on Sayre as the witch went about her daily routine. Every now and again, he would pick up the muted sounds of her voice as she talked to herself, the low words edged with anger and frustration. He’d definitely pissed her off by coming there, which meant that she was still angry about the way he’d left and hadn’t gotten over it. That she hadn’t forgotten him. And as wrong as it was, he liked that she’d been thinking about him all these years. That he’d made a big enough impact on her life to be remembered.

You’re her life mate, dimwit, his wolf grunted. Not like she can just forget that little tidbit.

“Piss off,” he muttered, knowing damn well that the beast was right.

Are we going to just stand out here all day? the animal persisted. Because we belong over there with her. We belong inside her.

He choked back a curse, the need searing through his veins making him sweat even more than the heat. He’d never so much as kissed Sayre, and yet, he strongly suspected that sex with her would be unlike anything he’d ever known. Just the fantasy of it overshadowed every woman he’d ever been with, and there’d been so many. Too many. Faces and bodies and names that he wouldn’t have been able to recall to save his life—which only made him that much more of a bastard.

The wind finally picked up, but he was far enough away that he didn’t need to worry she would scent him on the air. Though Lycan blood pumped through her veins, she was unable to take the shape of a wolf, which meant she didn’t have the same heightened abilities as the rest of them. Instead, the women in her bloodline were known as witches, or healers. They were each powerful in their own right, but he’d never felt the charge of energy surrounding a Lycan-born witch like he had with Sayre. She was truly in a class of her own, and he couldn’t help but wonder how those powers would mature as she grew older.

He seriously doubted that she needed the gun. Though he’d once been able to force his way through her power, when they’d been in the heat of battle and he’d been hell-bent on protecting her, she was stronger now. If she’d wanted, he was sure she could have blasted him with enough energy to put him out of commission for the rest of the day—and Christ, that was sexy. Everything about the woman was...intoxicating. He’d always thought she was beautiful in an ethereal, fey kind of way, and had been intensely attracted to her. But now...Jesus. There honestly weren’t words to describe the way she affected him. Her curly hair had to be a good seven inches longer, reaching the middle of her back, the color a deeper red that was shot through with streaks of gold, no doubt from all the time she spent outdoors. Her once thin, coltish body was now deliciously curved, her breasts and ass a little fuller, giving her slender figure a more lush, womanly look. He couldn’t help but imagine what this new shape of hers would feel like spread out beneath him, all that sweet, creamy flesh his for the taking.

But his attraction to Sayre Murphy had always been about more than her looks, and that hadn’t changed. If anything, the force of her will held an even deeper draw for him now, her fiery spirit when combined with her tender nature creating an alluring package that would entice any man, but especially the one chosen by fate as her perfect match. Everything about her was designed to please him, and a gruff, troubled burst of laughter softly fell from his lips as he scrubbed a hand over his face, knowing he was in some seriously deep shit. Even if she weren’t the sexiest thing he’d ever set eyes on, he’d have wanted her. The fact that her innate sensuality was even more prevalent now, her mouth and scent and the husky sound of her voice calling to him on every primitive level, well...that was just overkill. A play of the universe to make the coming days as excruciatingly painful as possible. Hell, at this rate, he was pretty sure he’d feel like he’d gone ten rounds in a medieval torture chamber by the time this nightmare was over. And he’d no doubt bear the scars to prove it, on his skin as well as his blackened heart.

Keep her alive and keep my hands to myself. That needed to be his new mantra—but the second part wouldn’t be easy. When she stood up after tending another colorful flower bed and lifted her arms over her head to stretch her back, the little tank top she wore rising up to reveal her sexy tummy and a tiny, dark tattoo that was scrolled around her navel, he realized it would be damn near impossible.

Sweet little Sayre had a tattoo?

Holy...shit. He was fairly certain that his jaw had just dropped down to somewhere around his ankles, his cock so hard he probably wasn’t going to be able to walk straight. He didn’t know what the intricate symbols of the tattoo meant, but he’d have sold his damn soul in that moment for the chance to drop down on his knees in front of her and press his open mouth to that provocative little piece of artwork. And he sure as hell wouldn’t stop there. Trailing his tongue down the center of her body, he would keep going until he was breathing in the sweet, humid scent of her where it would be the richest. Like hot, wild honey on his tongue, melting down his throat, making him hunger in a way he didn’t think any human male could ever completely experience. A hunger that went deeper than his flesh—that bled down into his veins and his bones and pumped through the very heart of him.

A drop of sweat slid down the searing heat of his temple, stinging the corner of his eye, and he shook himself out of his thoughts, painfully aware that they weren’t leading to any place he’d be able to go. And damned if it weren’t enough to make him want to bawl like a friggin’ baby. Or howl at the rising moon.

When she reached for something in the back pocket of those short-as-hell shorts and started to walk around the back of the cabin, Cian pushed off from the tree he’d been leaning against, ready to change his position so that she wasn’t out of his sight. But he froze when his cell phone suddenly vibrated in the front pocket of his jeans, his brows lifting with surprise. He was unused to anyone trying to contact him, since the number was one he’d gotten after he’d left five years ago, and there were only a few informants he’d employed over that time who he’d given it to. They rarely contacted him, and how was he even getting reception out here?

This is so ridiculous. I know you’re out there. Leave. Now. Before I go all West Virginia on your ass.

The text was from Sayre?

How the hell did you get my number?

I asked Mic for it.

Ah, that’s right. He’d texted Brody that morning, so his number was in the Runner’s phone. All Mic had to do was—

Enough stalling, his beast snapped, cutting him off. Text her back!

How did you know I’m out here?

That’s not the issue, Cian. Leave. Like I told you before, I don’t want you here.

He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering just how strong her powers had gotten over the last five years. Christ, she couldn’t read his mind, could she? No, if she could, then she’d know about the danger from Aedan, which meant she’d understand how serious he was about taking her back to the Alley, where the others could help him protect her.

Knowing he just needed to get it over and done with, like ripping off a bloody bandage, his fingers flew across the keypad as he typed in his response.

I can’t leave, Sayre. I’m here because you’re in danger. You need to give me the chance to explain.

She didn’t text back right away, and he hoped she was finally taking him seriously. Then his phone vibrated again.

No explanations needed. If that’s true, then I can take care of myself. Just go.

He cursed, hesitating, then forced himself to write:

I can’t. It’s because of me.

Huh. So what did YOU do? Do I have some psychotic jilted lover coming after me now? Did you accidentally let it slip that you have a mate? Should’ve told the poor woman you want nothing to do with me. She’s wasting her time.

Oh, Jesus. He barked out a dry laugh, even though there was nothing remotely funny about the situation. Not want her? There were parts of her he wanted so badly he was surprised the need hadn’t permanently damaged him.

Would serve you right, his beast muttered with disgust, as disappointed in him as everyone else who had ever meant anything to him.

You’re damned right I am. And you sound pathetic.

Irritated that the animal had just called him out for taking part in an embarrassing private pity party, he started to make his way toward the cabin, ready to face the wrath of Sayre and her gun, when he and his beast both instantly realized something was wrong. While the wolf chuffed in his head, Cian lifted his nose and sniffed the mountain air, searching for what had snagged his attention, and promptly finding it. Two...no, three human males were closing in on Sayre’s cabin from the north, and Cian stealthily headed in their direction, until he could pick up their muted conversation.

“Oh, man, he didn’t tell us she was such a hot little piece. I’m thinking we need to try this one out before we deliver her,” one of them said, obviously eyeing Sayre through the trees.

“I get her first,” argued a second male.

“Like hell you do,” a new voice cackled. “You always break them and then they aren’t any fun for the rest of us.”

“But I’ve got a thing for redheads,” the second one whined.

“We don’t give a shit. You can wait your fuckin’ turn.”

Cian moved silently through the trees, drawing nearer, every part of him completely focused on his prey. Did these idiots actually think he was going to let them get close to her? Did they have any idea what they were walking into? Either way, it didn’t matter. Their fates had been sealed the instant they voiced their intentions.

“Let’s spread out, blocking her exits. That asshole who hired us said it might be a few days before he showed up to collect her, and I’d rather spend the time we’ve got with her having fun than running her down.”

One of his friends snickered. “That’s just because your bum knees don’t hold up anymore. But I kinda like the thought of chasing her down like a bitch.”

In that moment, Cian almost regretted the necessity of killing them quickly. It no doubt made him a brutal bastard, but he would have enjoyed making these assholes suffer long and hard before he finally finished them off.

He quickly texted Sayre, ordering her to lock herself inside the cabin. Then he shoved the phone in his pocket, and released his long, lethal fangs and claws, the sharp tips piercing through gum and skin with a brief but familiar bite of pain. Without the light of the moon, this was as much as his body could shift form, but it was more than enough. Whatever weapons the humans possessed, they weren’t going to be any match for his speed and skill.

In normal circumstances, he would have never revealed the deadly, animalistic side of his nature in front of humans, since the Lycan race’s existence was a carefully protected secret from the vast majority of the population. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and these assholes weren’t ever going to leave this mountain.

Relaxing his tether on his beast, Cian allowed the wolf to prowl closer to his surface, the animal’s possessive, visceral need to protect its mate punching deeper into his system, ramping his adrenaline at the same time he shifted into a state of total focus. His objective was extremely simple: destroy the threat by any means necessary. With a deep breath and a flex of his claws, he launched his attack.

It took only seconds to find the first male in the line of trees behind her cabin, the vile stench of body odor impossible to miss for someone with Cian’s acute sense of smell. He slashed his claws across the human’s throat and swiftly retreated to avoid as much of the thick, crimson spray as he could. Its rich scent had his pulse ramping up, the blackened part of his soul that he hated with such ferocity awakening with the rush for more. For that wet, slick spill to slide down his throat and feed the darkness. Forcing himself to abandon the kill and move on, he quickly closed in on the second human from behind, the bastard never even knowing he was there until he felt the sharp press of Cian’s blood-covered claws tearing across his throat as his body crumpled to the forest floor.

Two down, one to go.

The third male had made his way around the eastern edge of her property, intending to cut off Sayre from the south. Following the scent of cheap beer and stale sweat, Cian easily found the human standing between two towering trees as the last vestiges of sunlight held on, not yet ready to release its claim to the day. There was a nauseating leer on the bastard’s face as he stared at her cabin, his tongue slicking across his lips while he tapped the blade of a hunting knife against his thigh. Cian was giving private thanks that Sayre had actually listened to him and gone inside, when she suddenly stepped out from behind the small shed not ten yards away from where the man stood, holding a rifle in her arms. He heard the click of the gun a fraction of a second before she fired a bullet into the male’s thigh. The force of Sayre’s shot sent the human crashing to the ground, and Cian quickly finished him off with a fatal swipe of his claws before turning toward the headstrong woman who apparently didn’t know how to follow orders to save her life.

It took him six strides to reach her, and while she lowered the gun, she didn’t even try to run. Retracting his blood-drenched claws, he ripped the gun out of her hold and tossed it aside. Then he quickly gripped her upper arms, yanked her up onto her toes and roared, “What the hell, Sayre? I told you to stay inside the cabin!”

“Like I give a rat’s ass what you told me to do!” she shouted back at him.

“You got a death wish, little girl?” He got right in her face, his voice dropping to a sibilant hiss. “Because that was the dumbest move I’ve ever seen anyone make.”

Shaking with fury, she began using her power to try and make him release her, but he refused to budge. If he’d been human, the palms of his hands would have no doubt been blistered within a few seconds, unable to endure the searing burst of heat she was generating without letting go. He growled at her, but she didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, and he realized this female—his female—was a woman who would never cower before a man. Raging, intense pride and lust fired through his system, his blood thickening low in his body, while his heart thundered like something trying to break its way free.

With another rough, guttural growl, Cian forced himself to slowly set her back on her feet as he loosened his grip on her arms. He knew that if he didn’t put some distance between them right then, there was a strong chance he was going to take her to the moss-covered ground beneath their feet and drive himself so deep inside her he wouldn’t ever find his way back out.

“Who were those men?” she demanded, ripping out of his hold.

“My brother,” he grunted, only to realize that his words didn’t make any sense. “I mean, none of those men were Aedan. But I’m guessing they were working for him.”

She blinked up at him with dark, gold-tipped lashes. “What are you talking about? You don’t have a brother.”

“It’s a long story, but I’ll explain on the road.” Well, he’d explain some of it. No way in hell was he telling her everything.

“Cian.”

“Listen. Next time, he won’t send a bunch of human thugs. Those guys were just a game to him, Sayre. A message meant to let us know that he’s found you and has you in his sights. But he won’t play the game for long. Eventually, it will be him, in the flesh, and I know you don’t trust me, but you can believe me when I tell you that going head-to-head with Aedan isn’t something we could walk away from without paying for it first. Not here. Not alone.”

She cut her gaze to the side and frowned. “I—”

“Damn it, Sayre, look at me!” He worked his jaw as her narrowed gaze locked with his, then grated out, “I can’t let that happen. I won’t. I will throw you in my damn car and tie you up if I have to, though I’d rather you come on your own. I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s no way I’m letting you stay here. He’s not getting you.”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. He could see the indecision shadowing her gaze, her intuition battling against her desire to be rid of him. He could understand her anger, but he couldn’t let it get in the way of keeping her alive.

“If not for yourself, then think about Jillian. About Jeremy and their kids,” he told her. Jillian had been pregnant when he’d left, so he knew the couple had at least one child. “You don’t think he’d go after them if he thought it would hurt you?”

Color leached from her face, making the spray of freckles across her nose stand out in stark relief. “What the hell do me and my family have to do with any of this?”

“He wants to hurt me, and he thinks you’re the way to do that.”

A bitter laugh burst from her pink lips, and she shook her head in disbelief. “Then he’s a fool. I didn’t even mean enough to you to fuck. I was just a troublesome little girl you wanted out of your way.”

Christ, she couldn’t have been more wrong, but he couldn’t tell her that. And he sure as hell couldn’t let himself think about that four-letter word that had just fallen from her lips—a word he’d never heard her say before. “Sayre, we don’t have time to argue. We need to be on the road ten minutes ago.”

She stared up at him as the seconds stretched out, each one seeming to last longer than a lifetime while his hands itched with the need to reach out and grab her so that he could get her to safety. “Fine,” she finally agreed, looking as if someone had just thrown her firstborn off a cliff. “I hate it, but I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face.”

“Smart girl,” he murmured with relief.

“Woman, Cian. Smart woman. I’m no longer a child.”

“Uh, yeah. Got it.” Then he tacked on a “sorry” for good measure.

Jabbing him in the center of his chest with her finger, she said, “You’re damned right you had better be sorry. Because this is all. Your. Fault!”

Guilt settled heavily in his gut, and he knew he needed to tread carefully. “I know, and I’m sorry. But can we please just get on the road?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No.”

“No?” He sucked in a sharp breath, struggling not to shout at her again. “I thought we just went over this.”

“I believe that you’ve landed me in the middle of a freaking problem, but that doesn’t mean I’m running back to the Alley. However—” her voice sounded like she’d swallowed a handful of razor blades as she held one hand up to him in a hold-it-right-there gesture “—I’m willing to let you come inside and talk to me.”

“I’m not letting you stay here alone, Sayre.”

“Then you had better not piss me off,” she huffed as she walked over to where he’d tossed her gun and picked it up, “because I was planning on letting you take the sofa until we have this figured out.”

Shit, he thought, shoving a hand back through his hair. Staying here wasn’t what he wanted. He needed her in the Alley, where he knew it would be easier to protect her. “It’s safer there, Sayre.”

With the gun propped on her shoulder, she turned back to him, her expression impossible to read. “That may be. But I’m not going to let you rush me into any decisions right now. I will give myself some time to process this, and then I’ll let you know what I’ve decided to do.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, dropping his head back on his shoulders, and counted back from ten.

“While you’re struggling with whatever’s going through that thick head of yours,” she told him, sounding as if she were gloating a bit, “I’ll just run inside and grab my keys, then take you down the road so that you can grab your car and bring it back here.”

Opening his eyes, Cian lowered his head and watched her walk away, wondering how she made the money to pay for the truck and the cabin, knowing she wasn’t the type to live off her parents. Then again, the truck that was parked beside the shed was fairly ancient, so he knew she hadn’t unloaded a ton of cash on it.

“You were wrong,” he said in a low voice, when she came back outside, keys in hand.

“About what?” she murmured, keeping her gaze focused straight ahead as she made her way over to the faded blue Ford.

“When I first saw you today,” he muttered, following after her, “you said we’d never lied to each other. But we did. I did. I lied to you all the time.”

She didn’t ask what he’d lied about as she opened the driver’s-side door and climbed behind the wheel, and he wondered if she knew.

He’d told her time and again that he didn’t want her.

And each time, it’d been a lie.

In his entire life, he’d never wanted anything like he wanted Sayre Murphy. In his bed. Under him. Completely full of him, his body packed so deeply into hers she could feel him in every part of her. Every cell and breath and thought.

He just didn’t want the rest of her.

The last thing in the world that Cian needed was a woman’s heart, because he knew exactly what he’d do to it. And while he might not love Sayre Murphy, he liked her too much to want to see her crushed, which is what would happen. It wasn’t arrogance or his ego talking; it was a simple fact. She was too young to clearly separate sexual need from higher emotion, and he knew that if he touched her, she’d likely end up thinking she was in love with him. Wasn’t there a saying about how hate and love were simply two sides of the same coin? So while she might hate him now, that feeling could be twisted into the other. After everything he’d done, he owed it to her to keep that from happening.

Does that mean you plan to keep your hands to yourself? his wolf demanded, prowling beneath his skin. ’Cause I gotta tell you, that doesn’t work for me. If given the chance, I plan on getting between those perfect thighs of hers and staying there, where we belong.

He made a gruff sound in the back of his throat, wishing the animal would just shut up and leave him alone.

And by the way, I still think you’re an idiot. Jackass.

Irritated, tired and at the end of his rope, his grip tightened on the passenger’s-side door handle until he’d nearly ripped it off, the beast’s guttural laughter echoing through his head as he climbed up into the truck. It knew it’d gotten under his skin, and he wondered if his friends all had this much trouble with the possessive predators who lived inside them, or if it were only him. Seemed just his luck that his wolf would not only be a pain of the first order, but a sarcastic son of a bitch, as well.

“Cian?” Sayre said as she cranked the engine and slid him a curious look. “Are you going to sit there growling at your door all day or are you going to shut it?”

He didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t dare. He didn’t trust anything that might have come out of his mouth at that moment, and his pulse was thrashing in his ears too loudly to carry on a conversation anyway.

Instead, he slammed the door shut, rolled the window down and focused his attention on the surrounding woods, knowing that Aedan could very well be out there, watching and waiting, slowly biding his time. The human thugs had been his brother’s first play, but they wouldn’t be his last.

And now the clock was ticking.

Chapter 4

As soon as he parked the Audi behind Sayre’s truck and climbed out, a terrible sense of doom settled over Cian, hanging around his shoulders like a leaden weight. It sounded embarrassingly dramatic, but there was no denying the emotion. It was like a thundering death knell echoing in his head, warning him that nothing about this situation was going to end in the way that he wanted it to. He knew, damn it...and yet, he couldn’t turn back.

Instead, he simply followed her into the small cabin, doing his best to keep his attention focused on their surroundings and not on how tight her little ass looked in those too-short-for-his-sanity shorts.

Seriously? You sound like an old man who doesn’t even know how to get it up anymore.

“Fuck off,” he muttered under his breath, mentally giving his wolf the finger. It wasn’t a question of not being able to get it up. It was knowing how quickly she’d have his friggin’ balls kicked in if he let the sight of her in those shorts take hold of him.

While she closed the door behind them, he did a quick survey of the room. The cabin was built with an open floor plan, the walls lined with row upon row of packed bookshelves, the bindings on the books creased from use. A hallway on the right led to what he assumed would be her bedroom and the bathroom, the kitchen located off to their left. There was a high-tech sound system on a small table in the corner of the main room, but no television. If she watched movies, it was likely on her computer or iPad, and he recalled Jillian once talking about her sister’s penchant for comedies.

A scowl twisted his brow as he tried to recall the last comedy he’d watched. It’d no doubt been something he’d caught down at one of the cinemas in the human town of Covington with Brody before he’d left, but he couldn’t remember the title. Just that he hadn’t felt like he got even half of the jokes, and he’d hated how old that’d made him feel.

He hated it even more now, when there was a so-beautiful-she-hurt-his-eyes twenty-three-year-old walking away from him as she headed toward the kitchen. She would probably laugh her ass off if she knew he’d “technically” be pushing fifty in a few years.

His body might be young—he halted the aging process when consuming blood as one of his main food sources—but his spirit felt freaking ancient, as if he’d lived three times that long.

As she washed her hands at the kitchen sink, she looked at him from over her shoulder, eyeing his blood-spattered jeans and T-shirt, and jerked her head in the direction of the small hallway. “You’re messier than I am. Why don’t you go ahead and grab your shower? It’s the first door on your left. Towels are under the sink.”

Taking a few steps toward the kitchen, he said, “Actually, I should go and bury the bodies first.”

She turned around as she dried her hands on a towel, blinking back at him with those big, storm-colored eyes. “Um...of course. I wasn’t...I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

Because she wasn’t a natural born killer, like he was. And because she was also probably a bit in shock, after everything that had happened. She might have grown up in the hard, often brutal world of the Silvercrest, but Sayre Murphy had always been a dreamer at heart. And dreamers weren’t the kind of girls who were accustomed to burying three dead bodies out in the woods behind their homes.

“Is there a shovel in your shed?”

She pulled her lower lip through her teeth and nodded.

The sight of her white teeth on that plush lip had him sweating, and he cleared his throat a little as he swiped his arm over his forehead. “Then you go ahead and grab your shower,” he told her, the roughness of his voice telling him he needed to get back outside and cool the hell off. “This won’t take me long.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Don’t you need help?”

Shaking his head, he said, “I’m not letting you anywhere near them, Sayre. But I won’t go too far. I’ll be close enough that I can hear you if you need me.”

He turned and walked back outside before she could say anything more, and pulled in a deep breath of the humid air as he headed for the shed. A half hour later, he was shoveling the last scoops of dirt over the place where he’d buried the bodies, the grave situated between two thick blackberry bushes that would quickly grow over it. He’d checked all three males’ clothing before putting them in the ground, looking for anything that might give him a clue about Aedan’s plans, but wasn’t surprised when the search turned up nothing. His half brother might be seriously twisted, but he was too smart to make a dumb-ass mistake by trusting anyone like these jackasses with vital information. That was why Cian hadn’t bothered to keep one of them alive for questioning.

That...and the fact that he’d been too bloody furious to let them live.

After putting the shovel away in the shed, Cian made his way back inside the cabin, locking the door behind him. He couldn’t hear the water running, so he knew Sayre was out of the shower. The sound of a hair dryer clicking on told him she’d be busy for a while longer, so he washed his hands in the kitchen, then went through the French doors that opened onto a small deck and took out his phone. After scrolling through his contacts, he called Brody’s cell phone number.

Within two rings, the Runner answered the call. “Where the hell are you? I thought you were bringing her back.”

“That’s still the plan,” he said in a low voice, unsure how much of this shit storm he should explain over the phone. “But it looks like we’re staying here tonight.”

Brody exhaled a rough breath. “I told you she wouldn’t do it.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t have a choice. We ran into some trouble, which I’ve handled, but this place isn’t safe enough for her in the long term. I need her in the Alley, with all of your full security measures in place.”

“I’ve sent Michaela up to Shadow Peak with our kids, since you wouldn’t tell me what’s going on. And I’ve told Jillian to stay up there, as well, right now. The others are going to stay down in South Carolina until we know it’s safe for them to return with their families.”

“That’s good,” he murmured, wondering what had kept Jillian behind. Had the witch had a premonition that her sister would need her?

Brody’s next words pulled his attention back to the conversation. “Max and Elliot have been out on a Bloodrun, but they’ll be back in the morning. And the mercs have been working a job over in Tennessee, but they’re expected back in the next day or two. So we’ll have security covered, and I’ll have the scouts from up in Shadow Peak double their patrols. But we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

At the mention of the mercs, Cian’s already tensed muscles coiled even tighter, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The mercenaries were four badass warriors who had worked with Eli Drake for years, and had decided to stick around once Eli had returned to the Alley and married Carla Reyes, the only female Runner in the group.

“This silence is getting kind of tiring, man. You there?” Brody asked.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he muttered, keeping a careful eye on the surrounding forest.

“You ready to tell me what’s going on?”

He swallowed so hard he could feel the movement all the way down his throat. “This...it’s not something I want to get into over the phone, Brody.” Hell, it was something he’d rather avoid altogether. But that wasn’t going to be an option. “And before you try to argue, don’t. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

Brody’s deep voice was gruff with frustration. “Yeah, well, it was easier to trust you before you disappeared for five years.”

He bit back a guttural curse, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say to that particular piece of truth. Part of him was eager to prove to his friends that he was still the same man he’d been before, while another part kept wondering what the point would be, when he would only leave again when it was all said and done.

“Cian, man, I’m serious. You better talk to me or you won’t be welcome back in the Alley. I hate to say that, but I don’t know where your head is anymore.”

He scrubbed his free hand down his face, his insides knotting. So many emotions roiled through him, clashing like warring, blood-drenched sides on a battlefield, that it was impossible to keep them straight. “I swear I’ll tell you everything when we get back. I just...” He worked his jaw as his words dried up, hating that he couldn’t simply avoid this problem forever. With a tired sigh, he said, “In all honesty, Brody, I need some time to figure out how to say it all.”

Silence met his admission, followed by a rough, quiet burst of words. “It’s that bad?”

“Yeah. But I won’t leave you in the dark. I give you my word on that.”

“Then we’ll talk when you get back,” Brody muttered. “But I need to know if Sayre is okay. Jillian gave Mic and me an earful for not warning the girl that you were coming for her. Jilly’s been trying to get her on her cell phone, but Sayre won’t take the calls. Just texted back that she was fine and would be in touch later.”

“She’s good. Pissed, but she’s all right.”

“Okay then. You need any backup on the road when you head back?”

Unable to resist having her all to himself for just a little longer, he said, “Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ve got a few days before we need to worry.”

“Then keep me updated.”

“I will. And stay sharp. There’s no reason for you to see any trouble when she’s not there, but it’s better to be safe.”

“On it,” the Runner murmured, then disconnected the call. Shoving the phone in his pocket, Cian walked back inside just as the bathroom door clicked open, releasing a wave of warm, Sayre-scented air into the cabin. He couldn’t see into the hallway from where he stood, but what was probably her bedroom door snapped shut a moment later. He debated going back outside for a smoke, but decided to simply wait her out, loving the way that intoxicating scent was filling his lungs, working its way through his system.

He spent the next moments looking over the titles on her bookshelves, surprised she was into gritty suspense novels, many of the books ones he’d already read. He lost track of time as he walked around the room, soaking up all the telling details like a sponge with water, hoarding them in his mind. They were like tiny clues that he needed to unlock the mystery of her life, his brain cataloguing everything from the scent of her candles to the type of pen she’d left sitting on top of a notebook. The sofa was off-white and deep, his mind easily picturing her cuddled up among the matching throw pillows with a book, while the evening sunlight touched on the feminine curves of her body. The sensual slope of a shoulder. The lithe shape of her thighs. He stood in the middle of the room, each breath drawing more of her provocative scent into his lungs, while his hands flexed and released at his sides. His tension just kept winding tighter...and tighter, until he nearly stumbled from the jolt of hunger that slammed into him when she came back into the room a few minutes later.

Christ, he thought as he got a good look at her. Is she trying to kill me?

The cutoffs had been exchanged for a pair of jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin, her tight black T-shirt molding to a pair of breasts so perfect they made his mouth water. Her skin was still dewy and pink from the shower and the sun, and he had to physically hold himself back from her. Had to fight the animalistic urge to yank her against him and run his tongue up the slender column of her throat, taking all that salty warmth into his mouth. Summer heat had never looked so good on a woman, and he knew he needed to get out of there before he did something stupid.

“Shower’s all yours,” she told him, her gaze focused on the base of his throat instead of his eyes.

“Thanks.” His voice was gruff, but he couldn’t help it. She’d taken a step toward him, bringing her into the last wash of sunlight that spilled through one of the front windows, the shimmering beams highlighting the strips of gold buried in all those waves of strawberry-blond. He wanted to search out every strand...wind the long skeins around his fist...and hold her tight. Pull her to him. Into his arms. Until she was trapped there.

And that’s my cue to get the hell out of here.

Grabbing the leather bag he’d left by the front door, Cian headed toward the bathroom without so much as another glance in her direction. But it was hardly any better once he was alone in the tiny white-tiled room. Her scent lingered in the steamy air, and he pressed his shoulders against the door as he dropped the bag on the floor, his head pressed back against the wood as he squeezed his eyes shut and clawed on to every ounce of self-control he could find. He needed it like an alcoholic standing before an open bar, the shiny bottles tempting him with drink me...drink me...drink me. Though in his case, the words were coming from Sayre’s soft lips, her husky voice curling around him like sensual tendrils of heat.

It actually hurt a part of him deep inside to be near her like this. And, yeah, it’d been pure hell to be so far away from her for so long. But this...Jesus. This was torture on a level he’d never experienced before, and he still hadn’t managed to get a handle on the right way to deal with it.

He ended up taking the coldest shower of his life, knowing if he lingered he was liable to take matters into his own hands. And he instinctively knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Fifteen minutes later, when Cian headed back out into the living room, it felt like he was walking into some kind of surreal new reality that didn’t fit in his world. The delicious scent of sizzling vegetables and Asian spices drifted to his nose, and he looked toward the kitchen, surprised to see Sayre standing with her back to him as she stirred something in a pan on the stove.

What the...? Was she making him dinner?

A slight flush warmed her cheeks as she glanced at him over her shoulder, sweeping those big eyes over the clean clothes that covered his body. “It’s getting kinda late, so I figured I should throw something together for us to eat.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s not much,” she murmured, her gaze seeming to linger a bit on his chest before she quickly looked away. “Just some veggie stir-fry and salad.”

“That sounds great, Sayre. Anything I can do to help?” he asked, biting back the words he really wanted to say. Lose your clothes and let me touch and lick and nibble on every mouthwatering inch of you wasn’t the kind of thing he needed to be thinking when it came to this woman, much less saying out loud.

He joined her in the kitchen, the two of them working in silence as she finished the noodles and he pulled down plates and glasses from the glass-fronted cupboards. Though they weren’t speaking, he could see her clever mind working overtime as he watched her from the corner of his eye, the hammering pulse at the base of her throat telling him she was anything but unaffected by his presence.

“Do you want to sit outside?” she asked him, once the stir-fry and salad had been dished onto their plates. “It’s probably cooler out there.”

“It’ll be safer inside,” he replied, carrying his plate and glass of iced tea into the living room.

“Suit yourself,” she said, taking a seat in one of the chairs while he sat on the sofa. “But I don’t have a TV for you to veg out in front of.”

“Not a problem.” He never watched TV much anyway, which seemed to be something they had in common. He preferred to be outdoors, his time indoors usually spent in a bed. Though since he’d left the Alley, he’d gotten damn good at losing himself in a book, during those brief periods of time when he hadn’t been searching for Aedan.

He was nearly halfway through the delicious meal, enjoying simply being in her presence without arguing, when she finally looked over at him and said, “Your accent seems stronger now. Have you been living back in Ireland?”

“I’ve traveled a lot, but I have an apartment in Dublin.”

She swallowed a bite of salad, then sighed. “I bet it’s beautiful.”

“Dublin?”

Sounding more than a little wistful, she said, “Ireland. All of it. I’ve always wanted to go, but...well, traveling isn’t something that really works for me now.”

He took a drink of his tea, then slid his gaze back to hers. “That sucks,” he offered in a low voice, wondering why he was stating the friggin’ obvious. Of course it sucked. She’d basically been living like a recluse up on this goddamn mountain, and on that note, he muttered, “I can’t believe Brody and the others didn’t put anyone on you for protection out here.”

“They tried,” she said flatly, turning her attention back to her plate. “But no matter how sneaky they were about it, I could still pick up on them. When they realized they were only hurting me more, they finally just let me be.”

Since hearing that made him want to destroy something with his bare hands, he forced himself to change the subject and think of something positive to say. It wasn’t easy, considering all he felt like at that moment was kicking his own ass for all the mistakes that he’d made, but he finally came up with a worthy compliment. “You’ve turned this into a beautiful place, Sayre. The, uh, garden is incredible.”

Her mouth twisted with something caught between a wry smile and a grimace. “Thanks. It keeps me busy.”

“Well, you’re obviously amazing at it.”

Shrugging one feminine shoulder, she kept her attention focused on the noodles she was twirling around her fork. “They like my touch, so it’s easy.”

His chin shot up like he’d just been clipped on it. “Your touch?”

“Yep,” she replied, lifting her gaze. “I’ve always had a green thumb when it comes to growing things.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, shaking his head a little. He was not going to get jealous over a bunch of leafy green shit, damn it.

Keep telling yourself that, his wolf laughed. I, for one, would give anything to be a mother-lovin’ daisy if it meant I got to feel her hands on me.

He grunted under his breath, and they finished eating, then carried their plates into the kitchen. He dried while she washed, trying like hell to take shallow breaths, since her scent was seriously screwing with his head. Unable to take it anymore, he set the towel down after drying the last pan and muttered, “It’s getting late, Sayre. You should get some rest.”

Propping her hip against the counter, she gave him a look that said she didn’t like being told what to do. “I’ll go to bed when I’m ready. Right now, Cian, we need to talk. Not chat about mundane crap. We need to actually discuss something important.”

Figuring he knew exactly what she wanted to discuss, he tried to find the words to come clean, but couldn’t. He swallowed, struggling for the right way to explain, but nothing was there. It was like the fucking well had just dried up, his tongue thick in his mouth. Shaking his head with frustration, he somehow managed to rasp, “I know we need to talk, but...I’m not ready to tell you everything. Not yet. I need a little more time.”

A quiet, bitter laugh fell from her lips. “That’s such a jackass attitude, seeing as how I seem to have been thrown into the middle of some bizarre family feud you have going on with some brother none of us ever even knew existed. But that’s not what I was getting at.”

Relief swept through his system as he leaned back against the opposite counter. “What then?”

“It’s the Alley. I’m not exaggerating when I say that it’s hell for me there these days.”

“I’ll be there with you, Sayre.”

“You’ll be there with me, huh?” She laughed again, shooting him a baffled look of amazement. “Is that meant to make me feel better?”

He flushed, grinding his molars together so hard he was surprised they hadn’t cracked. “I just meant that I’ll do whatever I can to help make it easier for you there. But we don’t have any other choice at this point, because we need the protection.”

“And when you’re gone?” she asked softly, her slender brows slightly raised in challenge.

“Let’s just get through the present. We can worry about the rest later.”

“Seriously? That’s all you’re going to say? You don’t even think I deserve the courtesy of a full explanation?”

“Jesus, Sayre. I don’t want to talk about this right now,” he growled, his heart hammering so hard he wondered if he were on the verge of a friggin’ panic attack. And the more she stood up to him, the harder it was for him to remember why he had to keep his goddamn hands to himself.

Brow knitted with a fresh wave of anger, she said, “Yeah, I picked up on the fact you don’t want to talk. But guess what? I don’t give a damn!”

“You should,” he argued, his voice rising. “Because there’s a good reason for why I want you to just shut the hell up. Every time you open your mouth, I want—” He broke off, cursing at his crumbling self-control as he shoved both hands back through his hair so hard he nearly ripped it out. “Christ, woman. If you knew what I want to do to you, you’d run screaming all the way back to Maryland. So just let it go for tonight!”

* * *

Given the situation, Sayre knew that “letting it go” was probably a damn good idea, but she couldn’t do it. Not when Cian Hennessey was suddenly looking at her as if she were the embodiment of every primal sexual fantasy that he’d ever had. “Wait. Are you...are you saying that you want me?”

“I always want you.”

The gritty words were so sharp with emotion she almost felt cut by them, and she slowly shook her head in wonder. “But you always said I was too young for you.”

His hands tightened into fists until his knuckles turned white. “You’re no longer a child, Sayre.”

“And I wasn’t a child at eighteen,” she snapped, sick of this archaic attitude he had about her age. “If I was old enough to go to war for my pack, then I was old enough for sex, Cian. But you left me anyway.”

“That was only part of the reason I left,” he said roughly, his chest expanding with each of his hard, ragged breaths.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she kept her tone deliberately calm. “I left, too. But not right away. I lived in the Alley for nearly six months without you there, and it was nice to learn that there were some men on that mountain who didn’t think I was too young for what they wanted.”

An immediate scowl twisted his brow, his silver gaze going dark and diamond-hard. She could feel the powerful force of his anger surrounding her, blasting against her, but unlike with the others, Cian’s emotions didn’t cause her physical pain or discomfort. They simply fed her own, making her feel...charged, like a draining battery that had finally been given a potent boost. The jolt was as stunning as it was delicious, raising the fine hairs on her skin, and the fact that it felt so freaking good only made her angrier. So furious, she didn’t even flinch when he straightened to his full height and snarled, “What exactly are you saying, Sayre?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she threw him a taunting look that she knew would rile him, her voice a soft, sultry drawl. “That really isn’t any of your business, is it?”

He advanced on her so quickly he was there before she’d even noticed he was moving, getting right up in her space until he was looming over her and she had to crane her head back just to see his face, his expression one of pure, seething fury. “Everything about you is my business, little girl. And if any male has put his hands on you, I will fucking kill him. Am I clear?”

Sayre blinked up at him in a mild state of shock, unable to believe he was actually reacting this way—as if he truly gave a crap about what she did or who she did it with. Sure, he’d acted like a jealous ass before he’d abandoned the Alley, but the guy had dropped off the grid for five years. That was half a damn decade! For all he knew, she could have run off, married some amazing man and started a family by now. He’d had no way of knowing what she was doing or who she was doing it with. His actions couldn’t have made his feelings toward their connection any clearer than if he’d looked her right in the eye and told her she meant nothing to him. Not a single goddamn thing.

Though the women he’d taken back to his cabin in front of her had certainly gotten the message across before he’d left. Nothing like watching your life mate hook up with an endless stream of females to make it clear he didn’t want you.

Pulling in a deep breath, Sayre took a few steps back to put some much-needed space between them. “What I’m clear on is that you’ll never know what I’ve done or who I’ve done it with. So this is a pointless argument, Gramps.”

His eyes widened at the name she’d used for him, and she had to bite back a satisfied smirk. Now that she’d found a chink in that titanium-plated armor of his, she was sure as hell going to exploit it. Heck, she might even look up old-man jokes online just so she could have them in reserve, ready to use when needed.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, his nostrils flaring as he pulled in a sharp breath of air. The seconds stretched out, each one heavy and weighted with possibility and tension, until he finally cursed something thick and guttural under his breath and stalked around her, making his way toward the front door with long, angry strides. Then, without so much as a backward glance, he slammed out of the cabin. She waited, wondering if she’d hear the roar of the Audi’s engine, but his shadow moved across the curtained window a few moments later, and she realized he was outside pacing. A brief spot of flame sparked as he paused to light a cigarette—the first one she’d seen him smoke all day—and then the pacing resumed.

It wasn’t anything to necessarily be proud of, but she’d have been totally fibbing if she’d said it didn’t feel good to know that she’d gotten to him. Hah! Score one for the witch! In your face, wolf boy!

But as she turned and headed back to her bedroom, she had to face the harsh reality that he’d gotten to her, as well. Her body ached a little deeper with each step that took her away from him, her heart thudding to a jarring, painful beat that sounded suspiciously like go back...go back...

And the sex-hungry wild woman living inside her was practically screeching her head off, furious that Sayre wasn’t giving her what she wanted. Unfortunately, Sayre pretty much felt the same way.

She might be a twenty-three-year-old virgin, but damn it, that wasn’t by choice. And while she might still be innocent, she embraced her sexuality. Had learned to touch herself and make it feel good. Liked reading about sex and imagining what it would feel like when she could finally give her body the freedom to enjoy it one day. After Cian had left, if there’d been a man she’d wanted, she would have gone to bed with him. But there hadn’t. So she’d taken care of herself, and hoped that one day that would change.

The last few weeks, however, had been...different, her need becoming sharper, more focused, until she’d wondered if it weren’t time she invest in some “things” to help her out. She wasn’t thrilled about walking into a sex shop, because while she might be a modern woman, it was still probably going to make her blush. Even the idea of ordering something online and having it delivered to her PO box in town made her cheeks warm. But now...now she wondered if maybe her body had started quickening in preparation for this. For his return. For the man she’d always wanted showing up out of the blue and acting all protective, as if he actually gave a crap about her.

Was she really willing to let him walk away without taking everything that she could from him before he went?

She didn’t know, but she needed to figure it out, and fast. There was no telling how long he would stick around this time. She couldn’t count on forever. And after the way he’d treated her, she no longer wanted a lifetime with him anyway.

But she needed to decide if she could go all in for nothing more than a good time. If she could use him for that mouthwatering, kick-ass body of his for as long as she dared, and then turn around and walk away before he got around to it.

Would the pleasure be worth the inevitable pain that would follow?

As she crawled onto her bed and turned out the light, Sayre could have sworn she heard a voice in her head murmur, How will you know if you never give yourself a taste?

Chapter 5

For Sayre, the following morning put the phrase leap of faith in a whole new light. One that was up close and personal...and as exciting as it was terrifying.

Cian had prowled outside the cabin until just after two in the morning, then finally dragged himself inside. Sayre had dozed off at that point, too, awakening later than usual after a restless night’s sleep. Dressed in soft cotton shorts and a tank top, she padded out to the living room and stopped at the end of the hallway when she saw that he was still asleep on the sofa. His long legs hung over the end, one powerful arm thrown across his face to block out the morning sunlight flooding in through the French doors.

As she stood there with her shoulder propped against the wall, staring at his sunlit body sprawled across the off-white cushions, she knew she’d made her decision. Knew what she wanted. And while things usually went to hell in a handbasket when people started making decisions based on what they felt they deserved, rather than on what was smart, she didn’t care. She figured this was her one shot at joining the masses and being a “normal” girl. Even if it were just for a brief moment in time.

But there was more on the line here than her need for sexual discovery and satisfaction. More than her need to finally get herself a “little somethin’” before she ended up a crazy old recluse who had nothing but chipmunks and squirrels for company. She needed to think about what the right answer was for their current safety situation. Not so much for herself, because she knew that while Cian might be an ass when it came to women and relationships, he would do whatever it took to protect her. His coming back to the States was a clear indication of his determination to keep her safe from this unknown brother of his. But she was most likely putting him in a dangerous situation by making him face it alone, with only her to help him. If they went back to the Alley, he would have others to watch his back and ensure his own safety.

And as long as he was there with her, she had a feeling she would be able to deal with the issues her powers created. When she’d mentioned how difficult it was for her there during their argument the night before, she’d been thinking more of the emotional strain it would put her under—not the physical one. Being there with Cian, when everyone knew how he’d just upped and left her, was going to be anything but peachy. She didn’t plan on actually spelling any of this out for him, though. It would simply be a lie by omission, and she could live with that.

Plus, she knew most of the others were on vacation at the beach with their kids, enjoying a summer getaway, so the group would be small. Brody and Mic were there, and Jillian had had to stay behind, because she was needed in town to help deal with several premature babies who had been born within the last few weeks. Sayre was aware of the details, because her sister had been blowing her phone up with texts since yesterday. Instead of calling Jillian back, like the texts had begged, she’d replied that she was fine and would be in touch, and left it at that. Yeah, it was bitchy, but she didn’t have the energy for the guilt she knew she’d feel when she heard the worry in her sister’s voice that was always there whenever they spoke.

And God only knew Jillian would have a lot to say about Cian showing back up in her life. Cian’s leaving had drastically altered her sister’s perception of the Irishman. Words like bastard, selfish and coward were the ones Jillian used to describe him these days, whenever he happened to come up in conversation. And Sayre had always agreed with her.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.