He inhaled deeply to oxygenate his brain. Instead of clearing his head, the scent receptors in his nostrils were doused heavily with Benie’s newly acquired sex pheromones courtesy of the incubus bite. A hint of musk and an almost a berry-like aroma more than piqued his appetite. The urge to rip her clothes off and fuck her until she screamed his name—Calder and the other two men be damned—brought his claws out again.

  Just then, Trace leaned forward, turned his gaze on Ian and raised his brow. Ian felt his lip curl as a low growl rumbled from his chest. My mate, he wanted to shout.

  “What’s wrong?” Benie asked.

  She wore a furrowed expression, her lips compressed with worry. She squeezed Ian’s knee, a gesture meant to be comforting, but her touch stoked his desire more. He should have moved away from her to temper his barely controlled reactions, but he moved closer instead. Her breathing quickened when he slipped his hand between her thighs.

  “Ian,” she said. A fear he’d never heard in Benie tinged her words. “Your eyes are dark. So dark. This isn’t you.”

  His hands itched to tear through her jeans and claim his prize.

  “Arent,” Calder said.

  Ian snapped his gaze to the man who sat on the other side of Benie. The other side of his mate.

  *

  Ever since Ian had changed back into human form, a feat Trace found grudgingly impressive, he could feel the man’s struggle. He’d also heard it in Ian’s tangle of thoughts. How was it possible that he’d been “turned” into a lupinus, a wolf-shifter like Trace? People weren’t made in their world, only born. All it took was for one parent to be a shifter, but when he’d first met Ian, he’d have sworn he was all human. Him turning wolf at the apartment had been the first time for the young man, and it worried Trace.

  Wolves, especially young ones, didn’t do well outside a pack. Trace was eleven the first time he’d shifted, younger than most in his pack. His father, the alpha, had watched with pride as he managed to shift back into his human form the next day. Some wolf-shifters found it difficult to return to their human selves. Some never shifted back. His younger sister hadn’t after her first time. Her loss still affected him.

  In wolf form, Trace was a hunter, but in half-form, he was a savage predator, unequaled in most situations. He hadn’t wanted to be a killer, but his father had contracted him to the wardens when he was sixteen. His father may have been proud of Trace’s abilities, but he hadn’t been foolish enough to want a rival alpha in his pack. Five years Trace had laid waste to the dregs of their world. All the while, able to hear their monstrous thoughts. His empathic talents only made it worse. The diseased minds of his prey had eaten at his soul for too long.

  He’d left service six years ago, and had worked hard to puts his past behind him. But now, with Benie’s safety at risk, Trace would become that soldier again. Even if it meant going up against his old boss and former friend Keane Silvertail. A draganos. A dragon-shifter like the two brothers in the front of the SUV. And he was also the man who’d caused Trace to lose his wife. He held back a bitter snort. One day he would face Keane again, but first he had to deal with the impending situation in front of him.

  Ian was about to shift again, and in someone who hadn’t been taught the ways of the pack, it could be dangerous. Mostly for Ian, because Calder would rip his head off if he did anything to hurt Benie, accident or otherwise.

  “Trace,” Benie said. “Help him. Something’s really wrong.”

  Her thoughts were filled with concern. She worried Ian was becoming something unfamiliar. She felt like she was losing her best friend, and with everything else happening—learning of her origins, being pregnant, having two mates, and going into hiding—she believed she would lose her mind.

  “Arent,” he said again, more sharply this time.

  His wolfish gaze landed on Trace with a challenge he hadn’t expected. He was alpha after all. Much older wolves had been cowed by him. But his dominance didn’t phase Ian. The need to hunt, to bleed something, and to fuck had overloaded the analytical part of his scientist’s brain.

  Trace looked at Benie. “We have to get out. Ian has to run and hunt. It’s a rite of passage for new wolves. He hasn’t been able to do that yet. To test his will against his animal’s.”

  Benie palmed Ian’s cheek, her scent heavy with arousal as the man rubbed against the seam of her jeans with his fingers. “What happens if the animal’s will is stronger?” she asked.

  Then the animal wins, Trace wanted to say, but worrying Benie wouldn’t help the situation. If Ian continued the losing fight against his wolf, against the change, the wolf would eventually win. There would be no coming back for Ian after. A lesson he learned too well after his sister’s wolf ravaged any humanity left within her. He might be okay with Ian turning and never coming back, but the loss would crush Benie.

  “Help him,” Benie said. “Whatever you have to do. Just help him.” Her thoughts were beginning to change as well. Lust and desire were becoming all-consuming. Her body responded like that of a she-wolf. Most of the science stuff in Ian’s head didn’t make sense to Trace, but from what he’d gathered, Benie had been adopting abilities from the different species she’d fought. Her face widened, and her green eyes darkened. Would she change as well?

  Shit, if he didn’t get them both out of the truck soon, the situation would get completely out of control. If Benie was shifting too, they needed open space.

  “Hey,” Trace hit the back of the driver’s seat and snapped. “How much longer?”

  “Twenty minutes to the cabin,” the man said.

  Benie was already climbing onto Ian’s lap. Her transformation—nails extending, along with the snick-snick of bone—called to Trace’s wolf. The veins beneath the surface of his arms wiggled and widened as his pulse boomed in his arteries, forcing blood to his changing bones and muscles.

  “Pull over.” His tone left no room for argument.

  When the truck slowed down, he reached over Benie and Ian, grabbed the handle, and shoved the door open. In one blurred movement, he shoved the three of them out of the truck onto the gravel road.

  Chapter 8

  Hot water soaked into Garrick’s bones as he settled into his bath. He sipped aged honey and willed his cell phone to ring. Keane had given him the contact information for a mercenary for hire. According to Keane, the merc had a penchant for stealth, and a reputation for always getting the mark. Known only as Shade, the assassin was very expensive—and so covert, no one knew if Shade was a man or a woman. He could care less. He’d give Shade all the gold in his vault if it meant his damned daughter would no longer be a threat to his throne.

  The phone beeped twice with a text alert. Garrick looked at the screen. The message was short and from an unknown number: Apartment cleared out. More later. Shade.

  “Fuck!” he shouted. He flung the phone at the wall. It shattered.

  Hel, his maid scurried into the bathroom. “Can I help you, my lord?” She bowed her head. Her curly brown hair brushed her collarbone.

  She avoided eye contact with Garrick, and it pleased him. She had a slight frame with small breasts. A characteristic of her kind. Her pale skin flushed as if she sensed his gaze lingered too long on her body.

  “Do you want to help me, Hel?”

  Her words trembled from her lips. “If you need me, sire.”

  He laughed, enjoying the warmth of her fear. “I’m sure there are many ways I could need you, my dear.”

  A small, helpless noise escaped her throat but she kept still. Kept her head bowed.

  Garrick shook his head. He had no time to play games with servants. “Get me a new phone. Same number.”

  “Yes, my lord.” She gripped the edges of her shift, but didn’t move.

  “You may go, Hel.”

  He could visibly see the relief in her posture. She quickly curtsied then fled the room.

  Garrick leaned back into the bath water, allowing the heat to soothe him. He sipped more of his honey. Scaring Hel might have been cruel, but it had improved his mood for the moment. He needed Shade to deliver. He needed the girl—and her unborn child—dead, or he would lose everything.

  Including his own life.

  * * * *

  The truck hadn’t come to a complete stop when Trace had pushed them out of the vehicle. Benie hit the ground hard, jagged chunks of gravel dug into her arms and back as she tucked into a roll. Not an easy task, considering Ian hadn’t loosened his grip around her waist. She’d been ready to screw him right then and there in the back of the truck. In front of everyone! Benie didn’t understand why she couldn’t control her emotions or her libido. It seemed just another extension of her inability to control her own freak abilities.

  The truck skidded to a halt just past them. The driver jumped out. Ian was already sprouting fur. Trace yelled, “Go!”

  “What’s happening?” Benie asked. Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears, and her body tingled. She looked down at her hands as they took on alien appearance.

  “You’re shifting, Benie,” Trace said. “You have to control it. Slow it down. If not…”

  “What? What?” Crescent moon-shaped fangs dropped down and cut her tongue. She pressed her fingers against monstrosities behind her curling lips. The taste of her own blood quickened the change. Her heart beat quickly as fur slipped along her skin like velvet. A sense of power and invulnerability permeated every fiber of her being. That scared her too. “Tell me!” she screamed.

  “You’ll lose the pregnancy if you go too fast.”

  Ian let go of her, twisting away, as his body began to reshape. “Ian,” she said, feeling like a lost girl again. She needed him. Needed her best friend, but he was in as much trouble as she was. She turned her gaze to Trace. He was transforming as well, but at a much slower pace.

  He took her hand. “Stay with me, Benie. We’ll do this together.”

  “But Ian…”

  “…will be fine,” Trace said. “He’s already shifted once. He can do it again. He’s strong, Benie. A lot stronger than I imagined.”

  She nodded. Ian was strong-willed. He’d been the one to hold her together when her world had crumbled.

  “I will take care of us,” Trace promised. “But now, our wolves need to run. We need to hunt, Benie. We need to be a pack. It’ll be what gets us through this night. What gets us back…”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant, but heard the warning in his voice. Still, his presence calmed her. “Back from what?”

  “Just focus on slowing down.”

  To the side of them, Ian’s wolf whined. Impatient for her to join him. She could feel his longing. The urgency caused the shift to increase pace.

  “Slow, Benie,” Trace said. “Think about your arms, your face. Then we’ll move to neck and chest. After. Your legs. Last. Your stomach.”

  Benie closed her eyes and used Gray’s technique to relax while she focused on the different areas of her body.

  “Good,” she heard Trace say.

  He let go of her hands, but she could still feel him. When she opened her eyes, an amber-eyed wolf stared back at her. She shook her head, her ears twitching. She blinked. Not just twitching ears. Four legs. Fur. Benie opened her mouth to ask questions, but nothing came out but a high-pitched whine. She pawed at the dirt, amazed at the strength encompassed in her chest and shoulders.

  Her senses were heightened as well. The ambient light brightened thanks to her new wolf vision. Night had practically turned to day. The thick fur covering her body negated the chill autumn air. Somehow her clothes had been discarded during the change. They lay on the ground next to her feet, but she didn’t care. The surrounding trees blazed colorfully with red, orange, and golden leaves of the season. A soft spread of a low fog carried the sweet aroma of woodland creatures: squirrels, raccoons, rabbits, opossums, and deer. She couldn’t believe how easy it was to discern one scent from the other.

  This is amazing.

  Every time. It was Trace’s voice in her head.

  She turned sharply to the gray and white wolf. I thought I said to stay out of my head.

  This isn’t that, Benie.

  Hey. It was Ian’s voice this time. Benie turned to Ian. His ears shifted back and forth. Run now. Talk later.

  It seemed they both had complete access to her thoughts. And she to theirs. In her human form, she might have felt violated, but in this form, as a wolf, it felt natural and right. How is Ian able to speak in my head?

  We are lupinus, Benie, Trace explained. Kindred. We are able to mind-speak in our wolf forms.

  Is that why you can read minds when you look human? She could feel his internal wince at her implication, but she ignored it. Is that another part of your wolf powers?

  No. It’s different. My telepathy is from my mother. She was not lupinus.

  Talk later, Ian said. Run now. Hunt now. Without waiting, he turned and loped toward the line of trees in the distance.

  Benie and Trace both turned and stared past the trees where he’d ran. Now and again, Benie could hear the rustling of the underbrush as small prey scurried in fear of the newly arrived predators. A hum of joy rang inside her compact body making every tendon in her legs vibrate.

  Hunt now, Trace said. She could almost see the smile at the corners of his muzzle.

  Benie’s tongue playfully lolled from the side of her mouth. Talk later.

  The sharp bark of Trace’s approval sent her running after him, deeper into the woods.

  *

  The anticipation of the hunt burned strong in Ian. In Benie’s world, no matter how much she liked to play at being human, he’d always been the outsider. Not as strong, not as resilient as the OWs. Yes, he was usually the smartest person in the room, but he knew he’d never been good enough for Benie. How could she respect a liability? He’d always thought of her as special and unique. Nothing would ever change his opinion of her, but now he knew she was royalty too. She’d been born to lead.

  His wolf didn’t want to think of his guilt. He’d made himself an other worlder using Benie’s stem cells, and it made him feel like he’d abused her trust, even if changing into a wolf hadn’t been his intention. Yet, he’d known change in his own body was not only possible, but also imminent.

  Ian! Benie’s voice in his head brought him to a staggering halt. Her fur was the color of her hair, a fiery auburn. An unnatural color for real wolves. There was a lighter color over the dense, darker under coat that in the moonlight gave her a ghostly appearance. Even in this form, her beauty was immeasurable.

  The gray wolf next to her, Trace Calder, playfully nipped at Benie’s hindquarters. Ian bared his teeth as jealousy overrode the high of being in his wolf form.

  Trace leveled a warning gaze at Ian.

  Ian didn’t flinch.

  Don’t be a fool, Arent.

  Stop it, Benie said to both of them. Are we hunting or fighting?

  Grudgingly, Ian voted for hunting.

  They quickly tracked a deer to a stream less than a mile into the woods. Trace, the only experienced wolf, directed their movements sending Ian around the back side to block the deer’s escape while he and Benie came in from right and left angles. It amazed Ian how comfortable it felt to work with Calder and Benie. The three of them, when operating on pure instinct, moved as one unit.

  Though frankly, Ian wished Trace would disappear. The man was powerful, attractive, and could fight. How could he compete with Calder on a physical level?

  Ready, he heard Calder say.

  Yep, Ian said back.

  His wolf bristled with excitement as he crouched under a fallen oak at the bank of the stream. Benie yipped with an almost puppy-like eagerness. It sent the deer dashing into the trees. A zinging thrill raced through Ian as he lunged after the buck. The chase sent his high over the edge. They hunted now on adrenaline and scent. They howled and ran, rejoicing in the challenge. Ian relished the long stretch of his legs as he leapt over downed trees, large rocks, and small briar bushes while he tracked their prize. He could hear Benie’s exuberant thoughts, along with Trace’s, join his own. They’d formed a tacit contract of cooperation, and it made the hunt a celebration of unity.

  Calder drove the game between Benie and Ian. Ian jumped at the skittering beast, clamping his mouth onto its neck. Benie scored a grab on its hind legs. When Trace joined the take down, the buck fell. In the thrill of conquest, Ian’s humanity slipped away as well. No more jealousy or anger. He was one with his animal, with his pack, and he’d never felt freer.

  When they’d had their fill, the wolf, once Ian, curled against the right side of his female mate while the other male wolf lay on the left of her. Surrounding her this way, protecting her…it seemed natural. Even when she’d changed into a human, he recognized her as his own. Or maybe he recognized he was hers. She stroked his back, and he closed his eyes at the shiver of pleasure.

  Foreign noises barely penetrated his hazy bliss. Even as the sounds grew louder, they made little sense to him. He looked at her when she grasped either side of his muzzle. Her gray-green eyes stared into his soul and held him enrapt. A word. A single repetition poked at the fog until it broke through.

  Ian.

  Now he really saw her. Her fiery hair flowed in a tussled mess over her shoulders. Twigs and leaves clung to the lower curls. Dirt and mud and blood smudged her face, her arms, her breasts…

  Behind her, a man rested his hand on her shoulder. It puzzled the wolf. The other wolf male was gone, but not gone. He made a confused noise.

  Ian.

  That word again. He could scent fear and worry and pain, but he couldn’t sense the reason why. They had hunted. They’d enjoyed their victory. Why was she scared? He stood up, his paws sinking into the damp earth. His ears flickered forward taking in more of the strange noises.

  Ian. A name. His name. He could hear more words, and they were more than noises now, but he still didn’t understand what they meant.

 

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