She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Kelly watched as her unwanted visitor opened the car door. Without an umbrella, the tall, broad-shouldered figure pulled up the hood of his jacket as protection against the downpour before striding up the path. She noted he didn’t even flinch as the brisk wind slapped the cold rain at him like a sodden whip. Something about his bearing said military. Great. Another one of those Protectors. The last thing she wanted or needed.

As the stranger stepped up onto her covered porch and lowered his hood, Kelly got her second shock of the day. Even drenched, the man was beautiful. Breathtakingly, stop-your-heart gorgeous. Worse, she’d seen his face somewhere—in her dreams perhaps? She didn’t remember.

To her shock and disbelief, she felt her body stir to life deep inside. While she tried to grapple with this unpleasant surprise, she drew her weapon, pointing it directly at his heart.

“Inside,” she ordered. “Hands where I can see them.”

Dear Reader,

Because I support numerous animal rescue organisations, this topic is very close to my heart. When I wrote The Wolf Whisperer and I learned the heroine Kelly McKenzie was a shape-shifter who ran a dog rescue ranch, I was thrilled.

Every single day, whether on social media or on the news, I hear another horrific story about animal abuse or neglect. This breaks my heart. I do what I can, giving donations when I’m able, and offering my support in other ways. Eventually, I hope to become a foster parent for rescued Boxers with Legacy Boxer Rescue, a fantastic organisation in my area.

As a dog rescuer, Kelly has a big heart. She gives her love and compassion freely, even to Mac Lamonda, a man who is actually her enemy. She never could resist a wounded animal, even one whose wounds are strictly internal. As for Mac, dare he accept the healing she offers, since her people are the ones who have stolen his children?

I enjoyed writing Mac and Kelly’s story and watching them grow as they overcame the obstacles fate placed in their path. I hope you enjoy reading about their journey.

Happy reading,

Karen Whiddon

About the Author

KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amidst the Catskill Mountains of New York, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, she fuelled her imagination with the natural beauty of the rugged peaks and spun stories of love that captivated her family’s attention.

Karen now lives in north Texas, where she shares her life with her very own hero of a husband and three doting dogs. Also an entrepreneur, she divides her time between the business she started and writing the contemporary romantic suspense and paranormal romances that readers enjoy. You can e-mail Karen at KWhiddon1@ aol.com or write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans of her writing can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com.

Wolf Whisperer

Karen Whiddon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Legacy Boxer Rescue of Hurst, Texas for all you do

to help abandoned and abused Boxers, offering love and

medical care, and best of all, hope. I salute you.

Chapter 1

The three-legged dog with one torn ear raised his head, sniffing the air. When he looked at Kelly McKenzie, she could have sworn he gave her a canine smile. Kelly had rescued the mixed breed three months ago from the filthy backyard where he’d been kept, chained to a tree and nearly starved to death.

A bottle of Jack Daniels and ten dollars had been all it’d taken to persuade the mean-faced owner to part with the starving pup. No doubt the fury simmering in Kelly’s green eyes had helped convince him. The guy was lucky Kelly hadn’t shot him. Only the urgency of the dog’s condition and the fact that she couldn’t help any animals if she was locked in jail had prevented that. The rescue, the dog took precedence.

With skill and care and love, Kelly had nursed the abused canine back to health. After all, that’s what she did. Her calling. She rescued hurt dogs, some of them so mistreated that they lashed out in kind, unable to accept or understand love or kindness.

But not this one. This one had wagged his crooked stump of a tail as Kelly’d unchained him from the tree and lifted him into her arms. Normally, a dog of his type would weigh at least fifty pounds. He’d probably tipped the scale at thirty, at most. He’d felt like a bag of bones.

Bringing him first to her vet, then home, she’d tended to him, with the same quiet patience she gave all of her bruised and battered animals. This one she’d named Lucky and he’d responded to food and love—most likely received for the first time in his short life—with a single-minded devotion. Fully healed both inside and out, he’d proven to be smart and sweet and forgiving. He appeared to have completely forgotten his horrible past. Always at her side, Lucky became Kelly’s constant companion.

Or one of them. Glancing around at the six or seven dogs roaming the hilltop near her, she smiled. She always had several rescues she couldn’t let go of and didn’t rehome, because in one way or another, they were part of her. These beloved animals made up her personal dog pack, all the company she wanted or needed.

To say she kept to herself might have been the understatement of the year. But, by virtue of what she was, her solitary lifestyle wasn’t even a choice, it was a necessity. Actually, she’d grown used to it. Truthfully, she was happy and didn’t need anything—or anyone—else.

She stood on her land, with her dogs, watching as the sun began to brighten the horizon, and knew that life was good and full. Here in Wyoming at sunrise, even in late summer, the early-morning breeze skated down off the mountains, snapping at her skin with a chilly bite. If any time of day made Kelly want to wax poetic, sunrise would be it.

Her cell phone rang, startling her. Fumbling to get it out of her pocket, she answered.

“Kelly McKenzie?” The thick Scottish brogue was instantly recognizable even though she hadn’t spoken to her cousin Ian in years. Worse, this call was not only unprecedented, but strictly forbidden. Except in dire emergency.

“Ian? What’s happened?” Kelly asked, gripping the phone. “Is my mother all right?” The last time she’d seen Rose, she’d been grieving over the death of Kelly’s father, while faced with the necessity of sending the rest of her family away for good.

“Your mother is as well as can be expected, considering what’s happened. It’s Bonnie.” Ian took a deep breath, audible over the crackling phone line. “Your sister’s been captured. And no one can figure out who has her or where she’s been taken.”

Mac Lamonda despised driving in the rain. And of course, while on this assignment that he’d had to pull strings to get, right after his plane landed in the middle of nowhere Wyoming and he picked up the rental car, rain had begun to fall.

Big fat drops, the kind that almost hurt when they hit your skin. Cold, even though it was the end of August.

Naturally. He would have laughed at the irony if he wasn’t so damn exhausted. Exhausted and on edge, verging on furiously giddy. Driving in the rain was … bad luck. A frisson of remembrance skittered up the nape of his neck. People died. People had died, and he let himself remember that since, after all, he was on his way to finally start the wheels in motion to regain part of what he’d lost.

His wife, Maggie, had been killed in a car crash in the rain. The car had exploded and the fire had killed her. Her loss alone had nearly destroyed him, but when he’d emerged from the depths of grief to realize that her family had stolen their two children, their combined loss certainly had. The one thing—the only thing—that had kept him going was knowing he would get them back. He had to. Or die trying.

His target, the woman he was on his way to see in his official capacity of Pack Protector, this Kelly McKenzie, was a distant cousin to his wife. She also had a history of being resistant to anything Pack. Since he wasn’t going to offer his help, like those who’d come before him, he really didn’t care. It didn’t even bother him that the very organization he’d taken an oath to serve had now become one he’d willingly betray.

He planned to use Kelly McKenzie as leverage to regain his children. Her for them. If need be, he’d eliminate her, just to show the rest of her thieving family that he meant business. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Getting her to let him in might be difficult, but subduing her would be easy. These Tearlachs tended to be a peaceful lot, or so his wife had always claimed.

As he pulled out onto the feeder road heading for the interstate, the rain became a steady downpour, then an outright deluge. In the space of thirty seconds, visibility went from fifty feet to ten, if that. Rain lashed at his compact rental car and he slowed to a crawl, wishing he had the luxury of exiting the freeway and holing up in a motel until the storm was over.

But no, with a fatalistic shrug, he knew he couldn’t. Time was of the essence now. She’d let him in. She had to. Failure simply wasn’t an option.

Heading east on I-25 out of Casper, he switched on the GPS unit. Though it took some time for the thing to hook up to the satellite, it finally did and the metallic voice came on, announcing his location and the instructions that he should remain on I-25 for 76.3 miles.

Of course. With a sigh, he switched on the radio and forced himself to mentally review the case file one more time, even though he already had the contents memorized.

Subject—female, age 28. Name—Kelly McKenzie. Single, no children, owner of a dog sanctuary and rehabilitation center in Wyoming.

And a Tearlach. Rarest of the rare, virtually an anomaly among their kind. So rare, few had even heard the term. Mac had, of course, though he didn’t let on.

During the initial briefing, which had been highly classified, he’d pretended to be surprised to learn that Kelly McKenzie came from an entire family of her kind. When the Pack had learned of them twelve years ago, they’d begun negotiations with the Patriarch, one Douglas McKenzie, Kelly’s father, now deceased.

Talks had reportedly been going well until tragedy had forced them to disperse and go into individual hiding. No one knew of Mac’s connection with the Tearlachs, and for now, he wanted to keep it that way.

Once the family had scattered to the winds, Kelly was the only one they’d been able to locate, and only because of a chance encounter with a Pack newspaper reporter who’d known her father and had recognized her. The rest of her extended family had managed to stay hidden, despite extensive searches.

Mac knew how extensive. He’d searched privately as well, aware he’d never find his missing children unless he found them.

Meanwhile, the Protectors silently kept an eye on the lone representative of the McKenzie clan, attempting to make contact from time to time, always rebuffed, and always retreating to observe from a distance. Mac had pulled strings to be allowed to be sent to talk to her, preparing to go on his own if his request was denied. Luckily, it wasn’t.

The Protectors wanted to have the Tearlachs as allies. After Douglas McKenzie’s death, no one had emerged as a new leader, no one had stepped forward indicating they were willing to resume negotiations. So they had begun contacting Kelly, with the plan of remaining in the background, and letting her know they were available should she wish to form an alliance.

After all, they were The Protectors, the Pack equivalent of the CIA and FBI, all rolled into one. They were highly respected among all the Pack, especially now that they’d vanquished the corruption inside their own organization. They were certain that sooner or later, surely even Kelly McKenzie would welcome their assistance.

This time, Mac had been successful with his machinations and he had been sent as their representative. He was supposed to wine and dine and charm her, talk her into agreeing to take a tour of the Protector headquarters.

No one knew that he planned to get the truth out of her, one way or another, use her in whatever way possible to enable him to find his children and bring them home again.

After hanging up the phone, Kelly paced, restless. She had to come up with a plan, since apparently the rest of her family wanted only to continue their passive lives, remaining in hiding, doing nothing. Ian had said that as far as he knew, they were making no attempt to rescue her sister.

This shouldn’t have surprised her. After all, these were the same people who’d refused to organize and avenge her father’s death. Green and gullible at sixteen, Kelly had let them talk her out of her pain-filled, planned vendetta, aware as they so carefully pointed out that her father would have wanted her to live.

But no longer. This time, she refused to roll over and play dead. As long as there was a chance she could save Bonnie, she’d take it. Now all she had to do was formulate a method of attack and go for it. Since her father had taken pains to engineer their reputation as peace-loving sorts, no one would even expect it.

The Protectors—or whoever was responsible—would pay.

The weather mirrored her mood, almost as though the downpour with its booming thunder and flashes of lightning fueled her inner turmoil. She blazed through one pot of coffee, started another, then mentally yanked herself up by the scruff of her neck and made herself stop. Overindulging in caffeine would only make things worse. She needed to be calm and focused in order to come up with a coherent plan of action.

The first thing she did was go online and purchase plane tickets to Canada. According to Ian, Bonnie had been living on Vancouver Island when she vanished.

Outside her window, nature raged. Still. Odd.

The force of the rainstorm didn’t bother her. The duration did. In Wyoming, a sudden, swift downpour was common. One that lasted all day was not. An omen of things to come? She hoped not.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was about to happen. One of her premonitions. Her family had called her the witch of the wood for that reason. Her premonitions usually were accurate.

Finding herself at the front window for the sixth time that day, she frowned. What the …? A soft blur of headlights cutting through the murk as they swung onto her long, narrow driveway.

Immediately, every nerve on alert, she located her pistol and loaded it with silver bullets. Were her sister’s attackers now coming to attempt to take her? Holstering the gun, she shook her head and bared her teeth. Let them. She’d make sure they died trying.

As the unfamiliar vehicle slowly approached, one by one her dogs came to attention, climbing to their feet, cocking their heads and adapting various poses of alert anticipation. Eerily still, they listened as though they could hear what, in her human form, she could only anticipate.

Closing them off in the den, she went to the front door and opened it. Standing in the doorway, under the overhang, she drew her weapon and watched as the rain-lashed car coasted to a stop in front of her garage. Since she didn’t know exactly what to expect, she was ready for just about anything.

She knew one thing. If her visitor thought she’d go without a battle, they had another think coming.

Annoyed and tense, she watched as her unwanted visitor opened the car door. Without an umbrella, the tall, broad-shouldered figure, unmistakably male, pulled up the hood of his jacket as protection against the downpour before striding up the path toward Kelly. She noted he didn’t even flinch as the brisk wind slapped the cold rain at him like a sodden whip. Something about his bearing said military. Great. Another one of those Protectors. The last thing she wanted or needed.

As the stranger stepped up onto her covered porch and lowered his hood, Kelly got her second shock of the day. Even drenched, the man was beautiful. Breathtakingly, stop-your-heart gorgeous. Worse, she’d seen his face somewhere—in her dreams perhaps? She didn’t remember.

To her disbelief, she felt her body stir to life deep inside. While she tried to grapple with this unpleasant surprise, she drew her weapon, pointing it directly at his heart.

“Inside,” she ordered. “Hands where I can see them.”

He blinked, clearly shocked. As he raised his hands, she saw a muscle working in his jaw, revealing his anger, as he stepped into her foyer.

Tough.

“Who are you and what do you want?” she snarled, kicking the door shut behind him.

She could see his aura, that fine identifying shade encircling him like a faint halo. This—his aura—told Kelly he was a shape-shifter, like her. Which meant he was Pack, as she’d thought. The ones she avoided like the plague. They were the only ones who had even the slightest inkling of what she truly was, and they didn’t even know the half of it. They never gave up, especially those known as the Pack Protectors.

She wondered if she was like a trophy to them and if her constant refusal to join them had turned her into The One That Got Away. She also suspected that they’d finally gotten tired of her constant rejections and had resorted to grabbing what they wanted instead. Like her sister.

Ian’s phone call proved it. They’d started with Bon nie and now had come for her. But she was ready for them. She’d neatly turned the tables.

“Tell me where my sister is,” she demanded. “Or I’ll kill you where you stand. I have silver bullets.”

The too-perfect-to-be-true man stared at her, silently dripping onto her Italian tile floor.

“You’re trespassing,” she warned. “I’m well within my rights to shoot you.”

Ignoring this, he gazed down at her, unafraid and boldly confident. Then, with water running off his tanned skin like diamonds, he flashed a smile so brilliant Kelly felt it like a punch to the gut.

“Afternoon, Tearlach,” he drawled.

She froze at the casual use of the old, now-forbidden word. She’d not heard it spoken out loud since she’d been a teenager living in the wild, distant mountains of Scotland, and even then it had been uttered in a whisper, under the breath, with reverence.

Tearlach. Her father had died because of this word. This stranger, this man had no right to use it so brazenly. She felt a flash of irrational anger, which she quickly tamped down. He wouldn’t understand. The uninformed never did.

While she formulated a response, the stranger continued to stare at her, his amazing eyes boring into her. “I don’t know anything about your sister, but I think you might know about something of mine. How about it, Tearlach? You tell me, and I’ll leave you in peace.”

Ignoring this, she clenched her jaw. “Did the Pack send you?” she asked. Then, without giving him time to formulate an answer, she dismissed him with a flick of her hand, keeping her pistol trained on him. “Of course they did. I don’t want to join your little club, so they sent you to grab me, just like they did my sister. Too bad I’m going to make you tell me where they’ve taken her instead.”

“Put the gun down.” Narrow-eyed, he glared at her as if she was the one in the wrong. “Or at least be careful where you’re pointing it.”

“Answer me and I’ll let you leave,” she told him. “I promise.”

Instead, he smiled again, no doubt well aware of his effect on women. “I’m with the Protectors. I came to offer you our assistance. As many as you need, all armed and ready to help. You say your sister’s been abducted? We can help you find her.”

She sensed he was ad-libbing, making it up as he spoke. “I’ll bet you can.” She stared him down. “Especially since you’re the ones who took her. Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Inconceivably, he smiled again, a pleasant and oddly compelling smile that infuriated her. “We didn’t have anything to do with her abduction, I swear to you. You’re the only one of your kind we’ve been able to locate, since your father died when you were sixteen. You are aware he was in the middle of negotiating with us?”

“Liar,” she snarled.

“I assure you I’m telling the truth.” He met her gaze. “I have nothing of yours, but you do have something of mine. I’ll help you if you’ll help me. How about it?”

She clenched her teeth. Something of his? What that could be, she had no idea. Nor did she care. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t want to hear your lies. You aren’t the first one they’ve sent to talk to me. Now, I’ll tell you like I told them. I have no interest in joining your Pack. Not now or ever. The answer will always be no.”

As he lowered his hands, reaching for his pocket, she snarled in warning, “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Immediately, he did as she demanded. “I promise we had nothing to do with your sister being taken. We only want to help. Protect and serve, that’s our motto.”

She cocked her head, considering him. Her sixth sense, which she always trusted, told her this man, no matter what he wanted, was trouble. Nicely packaged, but trouble with a capital T.

Problem was, should she let him go? Her sister had been taken, and even if they weren’t responsible, once the Protectors learned she’d pulled a gun on one of their men, she had no doubt they’d exact retribution. They were like that, with their pseudo good-guy image, working behind the scenes to cause death and destruction. Her father had made the mistake of trusting them. No one in the family would ever make that mistake again.

“You don’t know where Bonnie is?” she asked again.

“No.” His blue gaze never wavered. “But I’m willing to help you find her.”

This time, she sensed he spoke the truth. Partially. Aware she might be making a mistake, she slowly lowered her pistol. “I have no need of your help. You can go. Just leave. We’ll pretend this encounter never happened.”

Feeling both oddly hollow and self-righteous all at once, she turned, opening her front door to let him out.

“Wait.” Instead, the man actually pushed the door closed, shoving her up against the wall.

Once again she raised her gun. “I’ll shoot you,” she warned.

To her stunned disbelief, he dared to reach out and touch her bare arm with his cold, wet fingers, ignoring the weapon. She felt a shock go through her, an electrical jolt, which she knew must be because his unusual masculine beauty attracted her. Living alone for so long, she was nothing if not honest with herself. Looking at this man made her desire him, which of course infuriated her. Not now. Especially not now, while Bonnie’s life was at stake.

Shaking her head, she bared her teeth as she shook off his grip. “Back off or I’ll shoot.”

“I hope you told the truth when you said you have silver bullets in that thing,” he drawled. “Otherwise, you know as well as I do that you’re wasting your time.”

“Of course I have silver bullets.”

“Why resort to violence? You could at least let me talk, listen to what I have to say.” He shrugged. “For me, violence is always a last resort, to be used when all other avenues are exhausted and I’m at the end of my rope.”

Again, truth. This man was nothing if not truthful. Mostly.

“If you’ll talk to me, I won’t report this to the authorities,” he said.

Blackmail. Still, it was effective. Since he had a point, she lowered the gun. Of course she had no intention of trusting him or letting him pretend to help her find her sister, but she could listen to his spiel, and then send him on his way. They always said the same thing, with very little variance. She’d listen and pretend she’d never heard any of it before. And she’d keep her pistol ready.

“I’ll give you ten minutes,” she said. “If I let you say your piece, after that you have to go. Agreed?”

Instead of answering, he moved on past her. Startled, she followed right behind him into the foyer of her small ranch house, trying to ignore the fact that he was dripping puddles of rainwater on her clean tile floor.

From the bedroom, one of her dogs started barking, prompting the others to join in.

“What do you have in there, a kennel?” he asked, one brow raised.

She didn’t even crack a smile. “My personal pack. Canine pack,” she elaborated, crossing her arms. “Start talking. Your timer is running.” Glancing at her watch, she met his gaze. “Right about now.”

Instead of jumping to do her bidding, he simply stared at her, one corner of his sensual mouth curved in the beginning of a smile.

Short of manhandling him—and really, as if she could—there was little she could do. They were getting smarter and more brazen, these faceless shifters who made up this Pack of Protectors. Prior to this, they’d always sent females, probably in the hopes that she would bond with them. This time, sending a hot man to try to coerce her, aware that she lived alone, without companionship or sex … Nothing short of brilliant.

That is, brilliant if she were anyone else. But Kelly McKenzie didn’t need anyone. Ever. She was fine on her own.

As the seconds ticked past, she felt a flash of fury.

“If you’re not going to speak, then go. Leave me alone,” she growled, holding herself stiffly in a classic lupine warning, knowing he’d recognize it.

“I can’t leave you alone,” he said, his deep voice ringing with both sincerity and desperation. “As you’ve said, your sister’s been taken. So have my children. I’ve come to bargain with you, Tearlach. Yours for mine.”

Staring at him, she narrowed her eyes. He dared to confirm what she’d only suspected? The Protectors truly had been the ones who’d captured Bonnie?

Disbelief mingling with fury in her gut, Kelly brought her weapon up to bear on his heart. “Don’t use that word. Your kind only defile it. I should shoot you where you stand.”

Either unwilling or unable to see how close to the edge she was, the stranger stood his ground, meeting her gaze dead-on. She could have sworn rage rather than fear simmered beneath his calm expression.

“Look,” he said. “I know your family split up. I’m not saying we have your sister, only that we can help you find her. What I am proposing is a trade for a trade. Your people have something of mine, my kids. I want them back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said distinctly. “I don’t know anything about any kids.”

His clear gaze never wavered. “You might have had the luxury of lying once. But not now, not to me. The stakes are too high. Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am.”

She should just shoot him. But something about him—maybe his firm belief that he spoke the truth—interested her. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

Briefly, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the deep blue startled her. “Then let me educate you. I’m Mac Lamonda.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar. But still, she couldn’t place him. “Okay, Mac Lamonda. Now tell me what you mean that I have your kids. If you’d bothered to take a look around here, you’d see there are no children, yours or anyone else’s.”

His jaw set, he stared her down. “I think you know I don’t mean you personally,” he spat. “You Tearlachs. Your people. When my mate died, your father came and took them. Without my permission, without my knowledge. I want them back.”

Then it clicked. This couldn’t be him. He should have been dead. “You’re Maggie’s husband,” she whispered. “The one who … I’m so sorry.”

“You ought to be,” he snarled. Then, while she was puzzling over this new development, he jumped her, knocking her gun from her hand and twisting her arms behind her back. And then, just before he began to speak, her front window exploded.

Chapter 2

The blast slammed them to the ground. Instinctively, she covered her face with her arm, breath temporarily knocked out of her. She’d hit her head, hard enough to see stars, and thought she might be bleeding.

What the—?

As she struggled to suck in air, she remembered the man. Mac Lamonda. Her cousin Maggie’s widower. Lifting her head—the only part of her she could move at the moment—she saw he’d landed half on top of her. He was motionless, his sooty-lashed eyes closed. She was so stunned and shocked that for a moment she thought he was dead.

But then he moaned and she realized he was only unconscious. Dead weight. Shifting her legs, she managed to heave him off them.

From outside, thunder boomed, startling her. She was hot, too hot. And surrounded by smoke, clogging the thick damp air, making it difficult to breathe. Dimly she became aware that fire roared nearby. Hot. Too close.

One of her dogs barked. Another howled from somewhere near, the sound full of terror. Her chest hurt. Her dogs. Her canine family. Hell hounds, she hoped none of them had gotten hurt. She needed to get them out—all of them. Man, dogs and herself. Now.

But how?

As she staggered to her feet, dread coiled in her gut. Her house was on fire. Her sister was missing. It all had to be tied together.

Eyeing the man again, she checked his pulse, finding it steady and strong. He’d be fine, once she got him outside. After all, he was a shifter, like her except a Half ling. One of the only things that could kill their kind was fire.

Fire. Focus. Her home was burning. She realized she must have hit her head harder than she’d realized. Everything seemed surreal. Out of kilter.

Eyes smarting from the smoke, she looked around, trying to ascertain both the current location of the fire, and, second, if her enemies still remained nearby. Whoever they were. Whatever they were.

Mac’s accomplices? What did they want? They already had her sister. Now they’d come for her. Apparently, they hadn’t thought Mac capable enough to do the job on his own.

Thick black smoke rolled in. The roaring of the flames grew louder, tempered by the steady drum of rain and the hiss as the two met. She had to get out of here, now, and take the man with her. But how? He was a large man and she had no illusions as to her strength.

One of her dogs yelped, making her aware again of the immediate danger to them, as well.

Still, she couldn’t seem to focus.

Damn.

She got up, staggered to the back door and pushed it open. The instant she did, as fresh, rain-drenched air rushed in, the fire exploded in an angry roar.

Ignoring this, she rushed to the bedroom and opened the door.

“Come.” Amazingly, when she gave the command, her voice came out strong and certain, with no hint of panic. The terrified dogs darted past—she counted, all seven of them—barreling outside toward safety and rain and freedom. Kelly staggered after them, then remembered the man. Mac.

“Wake up.” She shook him, wishing she were cold enough to simply leave him to his fate. After all, he deserved it. But if she got out of this—and she would—she needed him to tell her where he was holding her sister. “Please, Mac. Wake up.”

He didn’t move. The heat, the smoke, the fire grew stronger, and still he didn’t move. She half thought that this event might be fate catching up with him. When his wife had perished, he should have died also.

But he wouldn’t die here, because of her. Left with no choice, she hooked her hands under his armpits and began to drag. Adrenaline-fueled, she made it to the door, over the doorjamb, and outside. Despite the ache in her arms, she pulled him across the soggy grass to the edge of the trees that bordered her land. This should be far enough from the house, since she wasn’t sure if there’d be another explosion or even if the attackers—whoever they were—were still around.

What was she thinking? Of course they were still around. They’d come for her and most likely weren’t going to leave without her.

Her best gun. It was still inside, though she had a spare in the kennel. Even as she contemplated going back to retrieve it, fire blazed through the living room, destroying what was left of her little house. Her home. Even if there was a fire department in the area, they wouldn’t have been able to make it on time.

Still, with a crowd of paramedics and firemen and policemen around, the attackers would be hampered from making a move. For the first time ever, she cursed living in the wilds of Wyoming. She needed help—she glanced at the man lying on his back in the wet grass—exactly what he’d been offering. Little good it did them both now. They were lucky to have made it out alive. And, she amended, fortunate all of her dogs had escaped.

Of course, in the law of “what can go wrong, will,” the downpour slowed, becoming barely a misty drizzle instead of a downpour. Still, she knew any amount of rain would be too late to slow down the inferno. She needed to face facts—she would lose her home. Still, she was lucky.

Mac moaned, drawing her gaze. He stirred, struggled to sit, before falling back to the damp earth. Kelly walked over to him, crouching down to help him sit up. No one had come to rescue him. Maybe she’d been wrong about the attackers being his people. Though she didn’t see how that could be, perhaps another party had jumped into the thick of things.

“You’re okay,” she said softly. “I got you out.”

“What the—?” He blinked, wiping at his face with his hand. “What happened?”

As she opened her mouth to answer, another explosion sounded. Kelly winced. That had been the propane tank, on the western side of the house. The flames roared up again, spitting and hissing, undeterred by the misty rain.

Something moved over by the barn. A shape too large to be a dog. The attackers.

“We were attacked,” she said, leaning in close and talking urgently. “And they’re still here. For now, we’ll have to work together. Can you change?” She waited while he tried to process that information, aware they didn’t have a lot of time.

“Change?” He nodded, wincing at the pain as he did. “I think so. Why?”

“Because I think if we want to have a prayer of capturing them, we’re going to need to change to wolf.”

He’d have to wait to get information from her. Worse, she’d saved him. Despite himself, Mac liked that instead of wanting to flee, she wanted to go on the offensive. Even better, she was right. Every instinct screamed in agreement that they needed to change to wolf. They could run faster, attack harder and fight fiercer.

Crawling up to all fours, he nodded. “You first,” he said. “I’m still regaining my strength.”

She gave him an intent look, her long-lashed green eyes appearing to glow in the murky light. “We are together, as one,” she said, immediately blanching as she spoke. “I can’t believe I just said that. But it’s necessary. Mo Anam Cara. Do you understand what this means?”

Though a chill skittered up his spine, he didn’t—at least he didn’t think so. Yet he vaguely remembered seeing something like that in the file and, before that, hearing his wife laugh about it, calling it only superstitious nonsense. Words she was to say to protect him, though they would bind them together. Though she’d never done so and he hadn’t cared.

And now … this woman wanted him to do what? Repeat them after her? Whatever.

Damn, his head hurt. He couldn’t think. Did he have to say something similar back? If so, what? And why? He knew this, though he couldn’t remember what or where he’d heard it. “I … er …”

“You’ve got to reply,” she repeated softly, her low-pitched voice vibrating with urgency. “I’ll say it again. We are one, Mac Lamonda. Mo Anam Cara. Do you understand?”

Again he felt the same chill snake up his spine. Ridiculous. They were only meaningless words. Shaking it off, he grimaced. Though he wasn’t sure if repeating her words was what he should do, he jerked his chin in a nod. “Fine, we are one. Now what?”

As he spoke the words, she froze, her gaze searching his face as though waiting for something else. When he didn’t elaborate, she finally nodded. “It is done, then.”

“What’s done?”

Instead of replying, she pointed toward the barn and another building that looked like a large kennel. “Change and follow me, okay? I think I’ll definitely need backup.”

When he nodded, she took off. One second she was moving away from him, the next—Mac couldn’t believe it. To his shocked amazement, she changed in midair, like that fake wolf in the Twilight movie. One moment, she was human, a woman charging in a full-out run. The next, a giant wolf with a glossy coat the exact same sable color as her human hair. Her clothing, torn and shredded, fell to the ground in tatters. Eyes glittering in the smoke, she turned and eyed Mac, waiting.

Damn. He shook his head. Not only was she a beautiful woman, but an absolutely gorgeous wolf.

Quickly stripping off his soggy clothing, he tossed it on the ground, wincing as his head throbbed. Taking a deep breath, he mustered his strength and began his own shift into wolf.

His change, while quick by Pack standards, wasn’t as flashy or dramatic as hers, but the instant he was fully wolf, renewed strength and power flowed into him. Changing had been the right thing to do, attackers or no attackers. As human, his capacity to fight was limited to whatever weapon he had at hand, including his fists. As wolf, he could use his entire body; his ferocious essence would be leashed and tamed no longer.

She touched her muzzle to his, taking his scent and giving him hers. Next to her, he felt invincible, a phenomenon he’d never experienced, even when running as wolf with other Protectors. Heady.

Side by side, they moved forward. Immediately, the scents assailed him, amplified a hundred times stronger than anything his pitiful human nose could detect. In addition to the overriding smell of smoke and fire, he could scent dog and man and wet earth and leaves, along with something more, something awful—the scent of decay.

He knew this scent. It meant vampire. The walking dead. He growled, glancing at her before he leapt forward. Baring her teeth in a snarl, she followed, her four feet as swift and sure as his on the muddy ground. His wolf coat made a much better barrier against the wet, damp cold than anything designed by humans.

Mac stopped. As Kelly came up beside him, he stared at the three hooded figures now facing them. All vampires? No, he also smelled flesh and blood and life.

Metal flashed. One of them had a gun.

He glanced at Kelly. Side by side, his wolf form dwarfed hers. Despite that, he sensed she was equally powerful and dangerous. Their gazes met briefly, be fore they returned their attention to the others. Their enemies.

One of the three made the mistake of moving, using that gliding run peculiar to vampires. Instantly, Mac took him down, slashing at the undead corpse with his powerful teeth and claws. Though the action wouldn’t kill the vamp, unless he remained out when the sun rose, it would take him out of commission for now. One less vampire to deal with.

Two remaining. Were they human, vampire or shifter? Something about one … He sniffed, catching a whiff of blood and skin. Half-human, half-shifter. Half ling, like him? Even as he pondered, the vamp made a move toward him, while the other circled around Kelly.

No time to think. Mac acted instinctively, leaping forward, teeth bared, hitting him directly in the chest. He slammed into him, the other’s body oddly hollow, not whole or solid like that of a living creature, but a husk, a shell. The undead. Another vamp.

Baring his fangs, he went for the creature’s throat, planning to take him down the same way he’d taken down the other. A loud bang went off, too close. Pain and heat sent him reeling back, flinging him off the vamp, as though a giant hand had lifted and thrown him. Shot. He’d been shot.

Dammit. But nothing he hadn’t survived before. Except this time, the wound felt different.

The bullet—hard, foreign—seared through him, white-hot agony trailing in its wake. What the …? Not a normal bullet. A silver one. That meant his life was over. Suddenly he realized what she’d meant when she’d said they were one. If he believed the superstition he’d read in the case file, now he couldn’t die unless she died, too.

No way. He had no time to believe in fairy tales, preferring reality. Even his own wife, Maggie, a Tearlach herself, had discounted it as nonsense. She’d even found it amusing, refusing to ever say the ritualistic words to him.

Sure as hell, no words had been able to save Maggie. After her death, he’d wondered if saying them would have made a difference. Other than prolonging his life without her, he didn’t think so.

Steeling himself, he thought of his children. Twins, barely eighteen months old when they’d been stolen from him. They’d be two and a half now, nearly three. Would they even remember him?

And now this new wrinkle in things. This Kelly had told him they were one. The ritualistic words. And he’d agreed. If the superstitious nonsense was true and he lived, that would mean she’d saved his life. He would owe her. He’d owe a Tearlach, his sworn mortal enemy, part of the ones who’d stolen away what remained of his life.

He had to get them back. He mustn’t fail, couldn’t fail. Isobel and Caleb would be coming home.

That is, if he didn’t die. A silver bullet was always deadly. No exceptions, except Tearlachs. If the legend of her protection wasn’t true, then he would die here, without even seeing his and Maggie’s precious children ever again.

Either way, he wouldn’t go down easily. Defiant, he clenched his teeth and struggled to get to his feet, refusing to cry out or even acknowledge the pain.

A silver bullet. Hell hounds.

With every breath, the dangerous metal spread silver poison throughout his body. He knew he must get the slug out if he wanted to buy more time.

The bullet had to come out. But how? As he tried to focus, his vision faded in and out. He held on to what reality he did know for certain. Cold misty rain, hot blood in his veins and—looking up—the sheer viciousness of his assailant’s grin as he watched Mac suffer.

The second shock—that Halfling was no vampire. That shifter looked vaguely familiar. A Protector? Surely not. Because if he was, that would mean Mac had been played for a fool all along.

Mac’s vision blurred and he sank to his knees.

Having taken Mac out, his attacker turned away, lifting his gun and sighting the weapon on Kelly. Unable to do more than watch, Mac grunted with pain and turned his attention toward his own wound.

The bullet must come out.

Grimacing, he bit at his own leg, teeth connecting with fur and muscle and sinew. Bracing himself, he counted to three and then yanked, biting back a yelp, snarling instead.

Bullet must come out. He repeated this like a mantra.

Ruthless, he tore at his own flesh, searching for the slug. Finally, his teeth connected with metal and he clamped down on it, gagging at the acrid, bitter taste of silver, mortal enemy of his kind.

As it exited his body, bringing with it muscle and sinew and skin, blood welled up in the wound, pouring from the gaping hole in his matted leg and dripping from his teeth, the coppery bullet metallic and poison in his mouth.

Evil. He spat it on the ground, then eyed his wound. Must stop the bleeding. After all, blood was irresistible to a vampire. Even, he thought dazedly, shifter’s blood.

A hiss came from above. He looked up, knowing what he’d find. The vampire had gotten back up and faced him, no doubt attracted by the scent of fresh blood. His glowing red gaze appeared transfixed by Mac’s wound.

Of course. As he struggled to hang on to fading consciousness, he wondered what would happen if the vampire drank his blood as he lay dying. Would he then be reborn, one of the undead, a new form of being, a lupine vampire?

Right. He groaned. As if there could ever be such a thing. Though Tearlachs existed, so why not?

As he peered up through a haze of pain, the vampire leaned closer, white fangs gleaming. It was going to bite him. Seriously? He bared his teeth in self-defense.

Kelly appeared, growling low in her throat. She forced the vamp to back away from Mac, keeping the monster from defiling a dying wolf and drinking and draining his blood.

Mac closed his eyes, letting out breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Hounds help him, he was glad.

The shifter appeared and lifted his gun. Kelly snarled, and leapt forward at the exact same moment that the bloodsucker did.

Bang. Once. Bang. Twice. And then a third time. Kelly kept going, apparently undeterred despite having taken three bullets. Three silver bullets. Or had they gone into the vampire?

Damn. Despite his pain, Mac couldn’t help but be impressed.

Dropping the gun, the shifter spun on his heel and took off in a speed-blurring run. The vampire, too, had vanished, nowhere in sight.

Blood dripping from her wounds, the wolf—Kelly—did not pursue.

Mac must have blacked out then. The next thing he knew, Kelly—in human form—cradled him in her arms. She gently shook him awake.

“Change back,” she urged softly. “I need you to be come human. Let me take a look at your wound.”

Struggling to focus on her incredibly beautiful face, he took a deep breath and willed himself to shift back to human form.

He was so weak that shifting to man took longer than usual. But finally, it was done and he lay, naked and bleeding, in her arms.

Her blood-soaked arms.

“You were shot, too,” he croaked. “Three times. Right?”

“No.” She sounded supremely unconcerned. “Only once, and I already took care of that. Right now, we’ve got to stop your bleeding.”

Already took care of … Damn it. The benefit of being a Tearlach. Invulnerable to anything and everything, except fire. Despite horrific injuries, Maggie would have healed, would have lived if the car hadn’t exploded. He let himself drift with the pain.

“Where are your clothes?” she asked.

Dazedly, he looked about for something to use as a makeshift bandage. “Over there.” He pointed.

She grabbed his sodden hoodie off the ground. “This will work. Hold still.”

Wrapping the hoodie around Mac’s leg, Kelly tied off a makeshift tourniquet.

“I hope this will stem the bloodshed. If you were full-blooded, a nonsilver-bullet gunshot wound would heal almost instantly. But because you’re a Halfling …” She shrugged. “It’ll take a bit longer.”

He couldn’t take offense, because she was right. Half lings healed only slightly faster than humans. Not that it mattered. None of that mattered now. No shifter, full or half, lived after being shot by a silver bullet.

The Tearlach crap be damned. They were both going to die. Strangely enough, this knowledge brought him peace. Truth be told, he had nothing, really, to live for. If he couldn’t have his children, he was ready to go.

Unless, the niggling thought wouldn’t go away, the legends were actually right about Tearlachs and their magical powers. If they were, he wouldn’t die. And neither would she.

Mind-boggling and probably the product of a dying mind. Wishful thinking. Yet once it had occurred to him, the thought would not go away.

Being around Kelly could save him. Might save him … No. Would save him. The true significance of the words she’d spoken. We are one—Mo Anam Cara. Spoken by a Tearlach, that meant he was under her protection. Which meant, in theory, like her he couldn’t die unless by fire.

Therein lay the appeal of her kind to the Protectors. And to their mutual enemies.

So there was a distinct possibility he might live. But first, as a fresh wave of agonizing pain swept over him, he realized he’d have to go to hell and back.

Mac moaned, drawing Kelly’s weary gaze. Now that their attackers had vanished, her first responsibility was to make him as comfortable as she could. She needed to get him in out of the damp, chilly mist. Despite his being the enemy, her impulsive binding of them together meant she couldn’t abandon him now.

Her house was in ruins. The other explosion had taken out several of her dog runs, though it hadn’t damaged the main kennel building or—she hoped—hurt any of the dogs.

Luckily, she’d kept a small office inside the kennels where she frequently did paperwork on a battered computer. There, she had a futon that could double as a bed, a shower she used to bathe the dogs, a toilet and a fridge. Nothing fancy, but until her home was rebuilt, this would be where she’d have to live.

And where she’d take the Pack Protector while he recovered. It wouldn’t be easy, the first time recovering from a silver-bullet shot. She remembered her first time, back when she’d been a wee girl of twelve. No, this man would suffer greatly on his road to recovery. By the end of it, he’d probably wish he was dead.

Again she eyed him. Luckily for him, he’d passed out from the pain. Now, how to get him inside the kennel. While the adrenaline rush earlier had enabled Kelly to get him outside, she doubted she could replicate that feat again.

Yet she couldn’t simply leave him here in the rain.

“Hey, Tearlach.”

To her shock, Mac had raised his head and called for her, his voice weak but steady.

“Don’t call me that,” she chided. “Now more than ever, it’s important that you forget you ever heard that word.”

He didn’t ask why. She thought maybe now he understood. Then, to her amazement, he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Help me up,” he said, his voice gaining strength.

“Do you think you can stand?” His resilience amazed her. Still, she’d be surprised if he managed to stand, never mind walk. “If you can, I’ll help you walk to the kennel. It’s warm and dry and there’s a place you can rest. And it should be safe. The dogs will alert us to any danger long before it reaches us.”

Jerking his head in a nod, he pushed up to his feet. Though she rushed over to offer her shoulder for support, he waved her away, staggering a few steps forward before halting. Though he was breathing hard and swaying slightly, he looked a far cry better than he had just five minutes before, which meant he was healing fast. Almost as quickly as her.

Honoring his strength, she kept back, though close enough to offer aid if he needed it. “Let me know if you need my help,” she said.

Squinting at her, he didn’t respond. Instead, he lurched another three or four steps toward the kennel, then rested. Though he held his shoulders up, he kept one hand pressed against the bandaged wound in his leg. From what she could tell, the makeshift tourniquet had been effective. Only a little blood seeped from under his hand to run down his wet and muscular leg.

He healed like a full-blooded shifter rather than a Halfling. Or, she reflected, maybe that was because she’d taken him under her protection.

As they made their way slowly toward the kennel, her dogs, still stunned from the explosion and gunshots, swirled around them, agitated and nervous. Though she was far from calm herself, she spoke soothingly to them, working at projecting a serene attitude, knowing it would help relax them.

Once inside, she dried him off as best she could, taking care to touch the still-healing wound gently. Though he must have hurt, his stony expression gave nothing away. As he watched her, his blue eyes were hooded.

Waiting for him to ask why she’d saved him—a question she didn’t know the answer to herself—she had to fight to keep from being all thumbs, which was not normal for her. She’d tended lots of wounded creatures in her time, though none of them had been so blatantly masculine, nor as beautiful.

When she’d finished her ministrations, he lay back on the futon and went to sleep. Kelly wrapped him in a soft blanket, attempting to make him as comfortable as she could.

Once Mac was taken care of, she rounded up the other dogs that still roamed outside, wanting to bring them in before full darkness fell. As soon as she had them all accounted for, blessedly unharmed, she returned with them to the kennel apartment where Mac still slept.

Peeking at the wound, she was pleased to see it had healed even more. As if it had been sutured, the jagged tear in his skin was beginning to close. His body had already brought itself back from the brink of death and was well on the road to healing, much faster and less painfully than she’d expected.

Suddenly exhausted, Kelly dropped into her office chair. Eyeing the handsome shifter, she knew she had one more task ahead of her. Once Mac recovered, she would have to explain that the gift she’d given him came with strings. By telling him that they were one, and by his acceptance, they were now bound together for life. Kelly was pretty darn sure he wouldn’t be happy about that. Hounds, she wasn’t entirely thrilled herself.

But what had she been supposed to do? Let him die in front of her? She who had trouble killing an in sect? So in an impulsive moment, she’d said the sacred words—only to protect him—and the thing was done.

Would she have regrets? Only time would tell.

And, she couldn’t help but wonder if he already knew. He’d been married to a Tearlach. Surely he and Maggie had undergone the ritual. Or had they? After all, Maggie had died and he had lived. Still, she’d never heard of a Tearlach marrying without performing the necessary binding. But could a shifter be bound to two women, even if one died? She didn’t know.

Again she eyed Mac. At the rate he was going, it shouldn’t take him more than a good night’s sleep to heal. For his sake, she hoped he’d spend most of that time unconscious. Less painful that way.

Chapter 3

As the afternoon drifted into evening, Kelly remained in her chair, watching him. She found herself tracing the lines of his rugged face with her gaze, pondering the strength of his profile and the breadth of his shoulders.

He’d been married to her cousin Maggie. Though Maggie was dead, that made him family. She’d sworn the oath with him, bound him to her, and he was hers now.

This feeling—it had to be desire. She’d read about it, heard songs about it, but until now, she hadn’t been touched by it. It felt like a small flame building inside her; she felt a longing to touch him, to press her lips to his bronze skin, for an unspeakable, unthinkable more.

Shaking herself back to her senses, she pushed to her feet. Perhaps her lonely exile was finally getting to her. She’d never met a man who affected her the way this one did. Of course, living out here in the wilds of Wyoming, she met few men, other than her neighboring ranchers. And they certainly didn’t make her want what she couldn’t have.

She reminded herself that he’d mentioned trading her sister for his children. Though she doubted he actually had her sister, he might know where she’d been taken. His kids were a different story.

Even if he brought Bonnie back, Kelly couldn’t guarantee the return of his twins. While she hadn’t heard anything about his kids being taken, it sort of made sense. Any child born of a Tearlach must be protected, and with their mother dead, her mate should have died also. That was the way of things. Once Maggie had died, the children had to be protected. Their gifts were too highly valued, too much of a temptation for someone merely after the prize a Tearlach’s gift could bring.

If they’d been allowed to remain with Mac, their lives would have been in danger from the moment they hit puberty.

That night, she made a pallet on the floor and slept, drawing her dogs around her like a shield. The kennel had a functioning alarm, which, though not monitored, would at least alert her to any intrusion. If the attackers came back, at least she’d have some kind of warning.

But the night passed uneventfully, and she woke in the morning feeling rested and completely healed. The man—Mac—still slept, though his color had improved and she judged that he was very close to being one hundred percent improved.

While waiting, she purified the area, drawing the ritual from instinct and memories. She set up an altar, a small replica of the one she’d had in her home, using some candles she’d dug out of a drawer and a half-burnt stick of incense.

Then, she bowed her head and offered up a prayer, though to what god, she couldn’t say. In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter to who or what she prayed. She—and her family, as well as this man who was now bound to her—would need all the help they could get.

First, she had to take care of her dogs. In the closest town, she had one person she trusted. Ben was human, without any knowledge of shifters or vampires or, most important, Tearlachs. He’d come forward two years ago, wanting to volunteer for the dog rescue group she’d founded. He often helped her save a doomed dog, both fostering and helping to transport them, often from across the country. He’d even stayed with Kelly’s personal dogs once or twice when she’d felt the urge to travel. She often called him her big brother, only half-jokingly. She knew if she ever really needed him, he’d have her back, just like a real brother.

Ben answered on the third ring. “Kelly! It’s been a while, way too long. What’s up?”

She could picture him, the eternal hippy with his too-long gray hair pulled back in a thick braid and his uncombed beard going in every direction. Ben was retired career military and she supposed his wild appearance was his way of rebelling at years of being told what to wear and do. He was also a former sniper and a crack shot.

“I need your help.” Briefly, without giving too many details, she outlined the situation. Years ago, she’d hinted vaguely to Ben that she’d done a stint of undercover work, highly classified, and she called on this cover story now.

“Call the police,” Ben advised. “See if they can send a few state troopers out. Sounds like you need some firepower.”

Kelly didn’t even bother to respond. She just let Ben think about what he’d just said.

“You can’t involve the authorities, can you?” Ben finally asked. “That’s why you called me.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Watch my dogs. I know this is asking a lot—”

“Nah. It’s okay. You know I love your pups. How many are you up to these days?”

“Seven house dogs. Plus more in the kennel. If it’s okay with you, I’ll bring my seven out to your place. The others will need transporting to a temporary foster home.”

“In other words, me.” Ben’s dry tone contained a hint of amusement.

“I couldn’t ask you to take them. My seven are enough.”

“How about I pop out there daily and feed them? Would that work?”

Kelly thought for a moment, then reluctantly answered. “No. Too dangerous.”

“For me? I thought it was you they’re after.”

He had a point. “True, but I can’t say for sure they won’t be back. I don’t want you anywhere in the vicinity if they do. They’re more deadly than I can say.”

Ben snorted, but he gave in. “Fine. I’ll take your word for it. Let me make a few phone calls about the kennel dogs and I’ll let you know. When do you want to bring yours over?”

“The sooner the better. Today? Tomorrow?”

He whistled. “You are in a hurry, aren’t you?”

His tone made her want to smile. Immediately, she quashed it. “I’ve got to get on the road.”

“Hunting or fleeing?”

This time Kelly had to fight to keep from laughing. “What do you think?”

“I think I wouldn’t want to be whoever you’re after when you catch up to them. You sure you don’t want me to round up my buddies? We could help you out.”

Ben and his friends referred to themselves as the Redneck Posse. Kelly suspected they’d all once been part of the same Special Ops unit, but she didn’t know for sure. She’d never asked and Ben had never volunteered the information.

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” She could imagine his reaction if she told him her attackers had been vampires and shape-shifters. “I need you here more.”

“All right, then. Just thought I’d offer.” Rather than disappointed, Ben actually sounded a bit relieved.

“And I do appreciate that,” she said.

“How long should I expect you to be gone?” Ben asked, probably more out of curiosity than anything else. He lived alone, with one dog and an ancient parrot.

“As long as it takes,” Kelly answered. “I have no idea. That’s the best I can do.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Hanging up the phone, she turned again to study Mac. One of her rescue dogs, a pit bull mix named Brandi, who’d only recently been given house privileges, had gone to sit by the man’s side. The large animal’s posture was alert and watchful, as if she was guarding one of her pack mates or her best friend.

This stunned Kelly. Brandi generally avoided people. Kelly had been working with the former dog-fighting casualty for three months now and the animal barely allowed her to touch her coat. Now the burly dog sat by the side of the ill man as though compassion was her middle name.

Interesting. If she had time, she’d study this in more detail. Brandi’s behavior could mean a breakthrough for other dogs that had suffered at the hands of dog-fighters.

But with time running short, Kelly could focus only on Mac, doing what she could to ease his suffering while he rid his system of the poison. For the next several hours, she sat vigilant by his side along with the dog, keeping him clean and trying to get the occasional bit of liquid into his parched mouth, wiping it up as it ran down his chin.

It shouldn’t be much longer now. The wound continued to heal at an amazing rate. As the fever shook his muscular body and he thrashed about in the covers, Brandi would whimper. When she laid her square-shaped head on Mac, the man quieted instantly. Though the smell of poison tainted the air, the animal didn’t seem to notice or care.

Beside Mac on the table, his cell phone vibrated. Snatching it up before it could disturb him, Kelly debated answering. Someone as beautiful as this one must have a significant other, not to mention family and friends. Most likely they were worried that he wasn’t returning their calls.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Who is this?” A masculine voice, full of suspicion.

“My name is Kelly McKenzie. I—”

“The Tearlach?” He sounded skeptical, which was good.

“You people keep calling me this,” Kelly snarled, only half acting as she forced rage into her voice, building up so she could sound convincing as she spoke the first lie. “I don’t even know what the word means.”

“Right. Whatever. Look, this is Donald, of the Society of Protectors. Put Mac Lamonda on. I need to talk to him.”

Glancing at the man still unconscious on her futon, Kelly sucked in her breath and prepared to tell the second lie. “He’s gone,” she said. “He left.”

Then, before Donald had a chance to question her, she closed the phone, hanging up on him. Immediately, she turned the cell off, in case he called again.

There. That was done. The subterfuge necessary to protect her sister had begun. Regardless of which scenario was true, them believing he was gone couldn’t be anything but good. If Mac Lamonda was working with the Protectors to capture her, with him gone, they’d waste precious time trying to contact him before they’d send others. By then, she’d have vanished. If he was working alone and, as a renegade, had captured Bonnie in order to trade her for his children, he’d have no backup.

Win-win. Though she wouldn’t consider it as such until Bonnie was free and safe.

With a sigh, she dropped the cell to the ground and stomped on it hard, crushing it beneath the heel of her shoe until it no longer resembled anything phonelike. Then she picked up the pieces and carried them to the trash bin.

Turning, she began heating up a frozen dinner in the small microwave. Luckily, she kept a well-stocked freezer in the basement of her home and the fire hadn’t damaged much down there, except for leaving an abundance of sooty smoke and ash. She had no electricity, but living on a remote ranch, all she’d had to do was fire up the generator.

Soon, the soothing scent of macaroni and cheese filled the room.

Turning, she found Mac sitting up in bed, watching her. A moment of surprise stunned her—his eyes were so unbelievably blue, after all—and then she felt a pang of recognition so immediate, so deep, she couldn’t catch her breath.

Recognition? That made no sense. She’d never met this man before, anywhere. If she had, she knew she’d never have forgotten.

Mac’s ever-present watchdog Brandi raised her head, eyeing Kelly with a watchful gaze that looked eerily similar to the man’s. To her surprise, despite the tantalizing aroma of food, the animal didn’t move from her position at the edge of his bed.

“Hey.” Mac gave her a weak smile. His raspy voice made him sound as if he’d just woken from a long, luxurious nap instead of a near-death fever. She found it sexy as hell. Unfortunately.

“Hey, yourself,” she said briskly. “I was just making some supper. Are you hungry?”

Searching her face, he frowned. “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.” Glancing at the nightstand where his phone had been, his frown deepened. “Were you talking on my cell phone a minute ago?”

Ah, the moment of truth, time to tell him she’d lied to his employers as to his whereabouts, even insinuating that he may have died. Though reluctant to begin, Kelly knew it was necessary. She didn’t have a choice. That didn’t mean she’d enjoy it. “Yes,” she answered. “I was.”

He nodded, as if her intrusion into his personal business was perfectly normal. “I see. Who were you talking to?”

Changing the subject, Kelly asked a question instead of answering. “Do you realize what happened? You were shot with a silver bullet. You almost died. But you didn’t.”

Inane chatter, but sometimes a simple pointing out of the facts was necessary before hitting him with the big one.

Mac’s frown deepened. She saw the exact moment he remembered. Everything.

“Silver bullets. Hell hounds.” For a moment he glanced down at his leg, wincing. “I remember. You’re right—I shouldn’t even be alive. How’d I get in here?”

“I helped you. Mostly, you walked.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded. “You lived because you’re under my protection. You won’t die. We are one.”

Gaze locked on hers, he swallowed hard. “So it is true. You really can do this? When you said we were one, that’s what you meant?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “You were married to my cousin. Didn’t Maggie ever discuss this with you?”

“No. She thought all of this was a big joke.”

Now he’d succeeded in shocking her. “Being a Tearlach was amusing to her?”

“You’d have to understand her sense of humor. But yes, she thought the rest of her family took it all too seriously.”

Careful now, she tried to figure out how to phrase her next question. “Besides what you learned in the Protector’s file, how much do you actually know about us?”

“How much did Maggie tell me, you mean?”

She nodded.

“Very little.” He sounded bitter. “I didn’t even know about the protection thing until I read the file. We were together three years and she never said those words to me.”

Careful not to show her shock, Kelly nodded. Luckily, Mac didn’t understand enough to realize the ramifications of this. She did. Maggie had not considered Mac, her husband and the man whose children she’d borne, her true mate.

Which meant there might have been another. Enough to make her wonder if Mac indeed was the children’s real father.

She said none of this, aware he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it. Yet the only other option was that Maggie had wanted to ensure that if anything happened to her, their children would still have a father.

“Tell me what you know,” she urged.

“Are you immortal?” he asked, his expression serious.

“No. And neither are you, now that you’re under my protection.” She avoided using the more honest phrase bound to me. “Tearlachs eventually do die, of course, usually of old age, but nothing else can kill us. Except fire. That never changes.”

Eyes narrowed, he swore. “So the only advantage over being a regular shifter is that you can withstand silver bullets.”

At a loss for words, because there was more, so much more than that, she swallowed. “I—”

“Damn. I don’t see what the big deal is. No wonder Maggie joked about it. Tearlachs aren’t really all that different than regular shifters. So you can withstand a silver-bullet wound. So what?”

“You’d be dead if it weren’t for that,” she pointed out. “And you forgot to mention our ability to confer this gift on another person.”

“True, and thanks for that. But I still don’t understand why everyone is so eager to form an alliance with the Tearlachs.”

“The ability to withstand a silver bullet could come in handy in the event of a multispecies war.”

To his credit, he caught on immediately. “In other words, if the humans came against us like they did back in the Middle Ages.”

“Exactly.”

He didn’t appear convinced. “How likely is that? It’s—”

“Far-fetched.” She dropped into the chair at the side of the futon, aware she had to tread carefully. Though she’d never had to have this conversation with someone, she’d heard stories of others who had. What she bestowed was a gift, a treasure beyond price. Yet the recipients didn’t always view it that way.

“Why me?” he asked, as she’d known he would.

Keeping her expression neutral, she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Because you happened to be there when I was attacked. I didn’t want to have your death on my hands.”

“I see.” His bemused look told her he didn’t. “If this is such a good thing, then why didn’t my wife …”

She felt a knife twist in her heart. “I don’t know,” she answered. She wanted to ask him if Maggie had loved him, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It was too personal and, ultimately, none of her business.

Odd. Completely and utterly strange. She’d never been one to shirk things and had always believed in straight-on honesty right from the start, but she didn’t think she could handle any more of this.

Trying to think, she looked away. Was she required to inform him how deep the bond she made between them went? Or would it be better to let him find out for himself?

Choosing the latter, she rubbed her hands together.

“Now,” she said briskly. “You’ve asked your questions. I want to ask a few of my own.”

“Go ahead.”

Her turn. Kelly stared at the man, wondering what questions she should ask to get the most knowledge in such a short span of time. She’d chosen him, like it or not, by an impulsive act of mercy. Now, she needed to find out what sort of man she’d picked.

She’d always trusted her dogs’ judgment of people. They all loved Ben, which was part of the reason she trusted him.

Brandi, the golden-eyed pit bull with the battered ear, never strayed from Mac’s side. She adored him. Kelly suspected that it might be a case of one damaged individual drawn to another, as if the dog recognized a kindred spirit.

Maybe that rationale would explain why she’d given something so sacred to a complete stranger. Sometimes, she felt like one with the damaged dogs. Something she’d never admitted, not even to herself, until now.

Putting such thoughts from her head, she forced herself to focus on what she needed to know.

“Have you remarried?” Though he didn’t wear a ring, she needed to get this out in the open.

One brow went up. “Maggie’s only been gone eighteen months.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No. What about you?”

“This isn’t about me,” she said, her tone impersonal. “I don’t have the benefit of a folder with all your personal info inside like you did.”

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Ask away.”

She wished she was better at this or, at the very least, had some sort of checklist to operate off of. Something along the lines of “ten things to ask before you bind yourself to someone.” Only, in her case, it would be too late.

The deed was done. Once given, her protection could not be taken back.

Therefore, she persisted. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No. I was an only child. And, before you ask, my mother is still alive. She’s a shifter. I never knew my human father.”

Gently, she asked the rest of it. “You and Maggie had two children, if I remember right. A boy and a girl?”

He glared at her. “Twins. Caleb and Isobel. They’re three. I haven’t seen them since their mother died.”

She noticed he held himself stiffly, as though by moving less he could make himself invisible, invulnerable or both. Though she’d never had children, she could definitely relate. She missed her family. She understood very well how the pain of loss never went away, just diminished slightly over time.

She didn’t show her pity, aware she wouldn’t want his whenever she spoke of the loss of her own family and the death of her father. She already knew he felt as if he’d laid his soul bare in front of her, a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. Compounded by the fact that they were virtual strangers … She bit her lip and forced herself to look at him.

Now he looked away. A moment passed, a bit of silence broken only by the jagged sound of his breathing. When his gaze finally returned to meet hers, she saw anger lurking in the depths of his blue eyes. A second later, it was gone, quickly banished.

She sighed, well aware of how sorrow could eat you up from the inside out. “It’s not easy, is it?”

“No. Even after all this time …” As he trailed off, the rawness of his repressed emotion lurked in his voice. Of course, the anger that blazed in his eyes told her what was coming next.

“I want my children back.” Leaning forward, his gaze captured and held hers. “Honest to hounds, if you have an ounce of compassion, you’ll help me.”

She said nothing, unwilling to make promises she couldn’t keep.

Finally, he nodded, his jaw set. “Why are you doing this? What’s your reasoning?”

“I want my sister back. So we do have something in common.”

“Then why won’t you work with me?” His rough voice spoke of his emotion. “If I can get your sister for you, will you make sure I find my children?”

Though she knew she should lie, she couldn’t force the words from her suddenly closed-up throat. When she finally did, she only repeated the question that he’d never answered. “Do you have my sister?”

Slowly, he shook his head, his bereft expression letting her know it pained him to do so. “No. Nor do I know where she is. I can tell you that the Protectors aren’t the ones who took her. I was only bluffing earlier, because I’d hoped you could lead me to my kids.”

Since he’d given her a truth, she could only respond in kind. “I don’t know where your children are, either. I wasn’t even aware that they’d been removed from your custody.”

“Stolen,” he snarled. “Don’t make it sound so civilized. I was at the funeral home, planning for her funeral, for Christ’s sake. Someone from Maggie’s family—your family—swooped in and grabbed them. They couldn’t even attend their own mother’s funeral. Maggie’s family had disowned her, so I had to bury her alone.”

The words hung in the air between them. Despite herself, Kelly’s eyes filled with tears.

“You’re crying?” he said, his tone filled with an odd combination of wonder and anger. “Why?”

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, she sighed. Then, she gave in to temptation and reached out and touched his jaw, feeling the stubble like sandpaper against her fingertips. After the first reflex, a nearly imperceptible jerk, he froze.

Feeling completely stupid, she took her hand away. “Sorry.”

“Yeah.” He stood, placing one leg in front of the other as if testing his own strength. After a moment, he began to walk, slowly at first, increasing his stride as he gathered confidence. “Can we stop with the fifty questions?” he asked.

“For now. But I’m sure there’s more I’ll need to know later. I’m trying to get to know you,” she said.

“Again, why?”

Once more, she offered the truth. “I’m hoping to learn something that will explain to me why I offered you my protection.”

He stared. “You speak as if giving your protection is an unusual thing. Is it that rare?”

“Yes. Extremely. We can only do that once in our lives.”

Again his face closed in, letting her know he was thinking of Maggie, the wife who had chosen not to give him the precious gift, who had never truly been his mate.

“Why does it matter?” he finally asked, the devil-may-care smile at odds with the bleakness in his gaze.

“Believe me, it does.” And that was all she’d say on this. For now.

Chapter 4

“Don’t think you can shut this down so easily,” he said, and he laughed. Something about the masculine sound made heat flare inside her.

Not good. Not good at all.

“You’ve got to at least answer my earlier question. Who called my phone?”

Crap. She’d hoped he’d forget.

She held up a hand. “In a minute. I need to ask one more question first. Do you know who is behind this? My sister’s abduction, the attack yesterday, all of it.”

“No.”

Oddly enough, she believed him. Continuing to hold his gaze, she nodded. “You’re privy to inside information. Do the Protectors have any idea who took Bonnie? Any clues where she might be?”

Instead of answering immediately, he dragged a hand through his choppy, dark hair. “It wasn’t in the file. But our intel has led us to believe that whoever took her is coming after each of you. They want to grab your entire family, one at a time.”

“No surprise there,” she said ruefully. “That’s why we all scattered to the four corners of the earth. My father knew this would happen. Then last night? Was that what this was all about?”

For a moment he looked dazed. “Was it only last night?” And then, before she could respond, “Why do you think? Of course that’s why they attacked us. Why else?”

Restless, she began to pace back and forth in front of him. “I’m not sure. They shot me. And you. They didn’t capture me. It didn’t make sense.”

“That’s because you fought them off.”

“Maybe. But still, it doesn’t make sense.”

“You know, you might be right.” He grimaced. “But I’m thinking they didn’t expect you to fight. Most of your people do not.”

“I have never understood that. Even your people think we’re all pushovers. That’s why your boss was so shocked when he called.” The instant she heard herself say the words, she wanted to recall them. But then, she knew she could only put him off so long.

“My boss? That’s who you were talking to? What did he want?”

“I’m guessing to see if you were dead or alive. I think he knew about the attack. I really think the Protectors are behind this.”

“No way.” He rubbed his mouth. “We don’t operate that way.” Then, eyes narrowed, he studied her. “What did you tell him?”

She took a deep breath, then gave him the truth. “I said you were gone. That you’d left.”

Swearing, he looked as if he’d like to hit something. Instead, he held out his hand. “Give me my phone.”

She didn’t move. “No. Listen to me. It’s vitally important that they believe you’ve gone.”

“That’s bull. I would have called in.” He held out his hand. “My phone. Now.”

“I can’t do that,” she told him. “I destroyed it.”

As he stared at her, fury blazing from his eyes, a muscle worked in his jaw.

“Listen to me,” she continued. “Hear me out. I don’t think you can trust your employers.”

He snorted. “Of course you don’t. Look, I realize you’re upset. You just were attacked, you lost your house, had to save a stranger’s life and, on top of that, your sister’s gone missing.”

“And someone tried to kill you,” she pointed out. “Let’s not forget that.”

“I haven’t.” Crossing his arms, he looked away. “But I can promise you those weren’t Protectors. They were vampires, for hound’s sake.”

“And one shifter.”

“True, but he had to be a renegade. Maybe even a Feral. What shifters work with vamps? Not Protectors.”

“I don’t know. That’s your territory. Are you saying Protectors never work with vampires?”

He thought for a moment. “Not usually.”

Hearing the hesitation, she pounced. “But it has happened?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Very rarely.”

She pressed her point. “I think they set you up. But you being here worked against them. They wanted to grab me and failed.”

His closed-off expression told her he wasn’t buying it. “And what about me? Why would they do such a thing to one of their own?”

“Means to an end. They were willing to sacrifice you.”

He didn’t want to believe her, she could tell. Yet something in what she said must have resonated with him since he didn’t discount it right away.

“Can you prove this?” he asked finally.

“No. But I can’t disprove it, either. Until we can do one or the other, I’d say we go with the assumption that they did.”

Immediately, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it.”

“Then give me another alternative,” she cried. “Something besides a senseless, random attack. They were armed with silver bullets. They had a purpose.”

“Yes. To capture you. But it wasn’t us. For the last time, the Protectors don’t work that way.” He stared at her for so long she fought the urge to fidget.

“I don’t agree.”

“Fine,” he finally said. “Let’s just agree to disagree until we have more information. Where do we go from here? What’s the plan?”

She couldn’t help but notice the way he said “we” rather than “you.”

“I want my sister back. I’m going to find out a way to rescue her.” Taking a deep breath, she looked at him. “And, if you help me find her, I’ll do my best to help you get reunited with your children.”

Still watching her closely, he didn’t appear convinced. “How do you propose to do that?”

“I’m going after them.”

“Just the two of us? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked, using the same calm, measured tone she used to sooth a spooked dog. “You’re a trained Protector and I’m a Tearlach. It’ll be enough. We’ll be fine.”

“You know, that’s why I was sent to you. To offer you the help of the Protectors.”

“Their help comes with too many strings.” Again she leaned in close, aware he still didn’t know all that being a Tearlach entailed. “I want you to come with me. Singular. Not them. I don’t trust them.”

He lifted a brow. “Why the hell not? At the risk of beating a dead horse, you have no proof that they took your sister—in fact, since I was sent here to talk to you, that really argues against that idea. If we were in the habit of simply grabbing what we wanted, I would have captured you myself.”

To that, she snorted. “As if you could.”

His slight smile told her he was letting that one go. “You’ve got to do better than that. If we’re going to be partners, we’ve got to be honest with each other. Why don’t you trust the Protectors?”

Taking a deep breath, she told him the truth. “Because they killed my father.” Though she tried to rein it in, bitterness colored her voice. “The Protectors are responsible for tearing my family apart.”

Silence fell while he processed her words, his expression grim. “Though I’m sure you have your reasons for believing this, your father was working with us, not against us. We were allies when he was killed.”

“I don’t believe you. I need proof.”

“Why?” he asked. “From what I’ve seen of you, you seem to operate on hunches and supposition. Kidnapping someone really isn’t the sort of thing we do.”

“Maybe not now. But I know differently. Think about what your organization was less than a year ago. Protectors were nothing more than paid assassins. They exterminated anyone who didn’t conform to a predetermined set of narrow rules. They were corrupt through and through. So don’t tell me it’s not possible.”

He bowed his head. “True. But those individuals and their followers are all gone. They’ve been punished. Things are different now.” Taking a deep breath, he watched her, no doubt waiting for her to speak. When she did not, he continued as if she had.

“You speak of us with such rancor.” Watching her the way a wolf keeps an eye on a sunning snake, he grimaced. “Since you feel that way, why did you save me? I’m a Protector. My loyalty is with them.”

“Still? Surely after this, you must have doubts.”

“Why would I?” He spread his hands. “You’ve given me no proof, no evidence. You were attacked and we both were shot. That’s all we know.”

He had a point. All she had were her hunches and, while they were rarely wrong, she had no proof.

“Furthermore, why do you want me to go with you? You don’t know me. If you don’t trust them, you shouldn’t trust me, either.”

As if she had a choice. One impetuous act, and here they were. Stuck together for the rest of their natural lives. Only he didn’t know that yet.

With a sigh, she realized she’d have to tell him the rest of it. “Let me try to explain. As I told you, you’re under my protection now. Now that we’ve said the words and completed the ritual, we’re bound together. This is not something I take lightly.”

“Bound together? For how long?”

“For a while,” she said vaguely, aware he’d probably press for more details. How could she tell him that they were, theoretically, bound together for the rest of their lives? Did he really need to know that in her world, a Tearlach spoke those words only once? To the one who would be their true mate? Not just to some random stranger, no matter how beautiful he might be.

Oh, what a horrible mistake she’d made. Still, when she imagined him lying dead in a pool of blood, she knew she’d do the same thing again.

Apparently, her words were enough to make him suspicious. “Why do I get the feeling that there’s a lot you’re not telling me? You’re feeding me bits and pieces of the story. I need you to spit it all out. I’m listening.”

“I’m not ready to do that yet.” She met his gaze, being as honest as she could. “Sorry.”

“Then give me back my phone.”

Stubborn man. If she had an ounce of sense, she’d hand him back the pieces of his cell and send him on his way before either one of them got hurt.

But she couldn’t. That was the crux of it. She flat-out had no choice. He didn’t have a choice, either. If he wanted to pretend he did, that was up to him. He’d find out the truth sooner or later.

“I’m not giving you back your phone. I’ve already destroyed it. Look, we’re bound together, you and I. Like it or not. I said the words, saved your life, and there’s a debt to be paid.”

As they locked eyes, something clicked in his gaze and she knew he had begun to understand.

Dipping his chin, he finally acknowledged the truth of her statement. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll go with you. I do owe you for my life, and I always repay my debts.”

Honor, she thought sardonically. Rare among shifters these days. As if he truly had a choice. Careful not to show any emotion, she nodded. “Thanks.”

“Hold on.” His smile contained a hint of mockery. “I’m not finished. I’ll go with you, but in return, you have to promise me one thing.”

She crossed her arms. “Go ahead.”

“If on the chance you’re wrong and the Protectors are not behind this, will you agree to at least talk to them?”

She considered. “Maybe.”

Immediately, he shook his head. “That’s not good enough.”

Hiding a smile, she finally nodded. “Fine. If you’re wrong and can prove it, I’ll talk to them. No promises beyond that.”

With that, he seemed satisfied. “All right, then. It’s settled. Where are we going and when do we leave?”

“As soon as you’re well enough.” She glanced at her watch. “I want to make sure you’re all healed. Maybe a few more hours, maybe tomorrow. We’ll have to take the house dogs to a friend in town.”

He nodded, then shoved aside the sheet and swung his muscular legs to the side. Pushing to his feet, he waved away her clumsy attempt to offer support.

“I’ve got it.” Swaying slightly, he looked like a sailor trying to find balance during rough seas. Jaw clenched, he grabbed the side of the futon and, using it to steady himself, took a tentative step forward.

Then another. When he looked at Kelly, grinning, she felt an odd knot in her chest.

“I did it,” he said, sounding triumphant. “I’m good to go.” His smile widened as he examined the shrinking patch of skin where the bullet wound had been. “This is freakin’ amazing. You can’t even tell I’ve been shot.”

Such was the blessing—or the curse—of being protected by a Tearlach.

While she was pondering this, Mac disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

As the day moved on, his strength improved. At lunchtime, he was starving, eating three sandwiches and an entire bowl of chips, plus an apple and two pickles.

“You look good.” She gave him the honest compliment. “But you’re not fully healed yet. Rest, if you can. We’ve got a long trip tomorrow.”

He smiled wryly. “Yes, Nurse Kelly. Whatever you say.”

At that, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re right, I need to lie down,” he said. When she nodded, he went straight for the futon, her pit bull Brandi settling on the floor at his side. Closing his eyes, just like that, he fell asleep.

She watched him doze, unable to help herself. Whatever force that drew her to him tormented her, making her want to climb up on the futon and curl into his side. She restrained herself, just barely, and kept one eye on the time.

An hour later, the sun had begun to travel toward the horizon and he woke up. It was time to go.

Crossing to his side, she rubbed Brandi’s head lightly before scowling at him. It occurred to her that her best armor might be an unpleasant attitude and she tested that now.

“Are you well enough to travel now? If so, we need to go right away.”

“At dusk? Why not in the morning?”

How to explain the instinct that guided her life?

“Because we have to leave now,” she said. Nothing more.

To her surprise, rather than arguing, he got up and stretched, drawing her gaze. “I’d like to brush my teeth and freshen up, and I’ll be good to go.”

“Let me pack a bag,” she told him, making her voice cold to show she had no reaction to the warmth of his male beauty. “Not that I have much—almost everything I own burned in the fire. I assume you have one in your car?”

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