Dom swung around and pinned her with a no-nonsense stare. A human would instantly peg him as military, although wolves rarely bothered to insert themselves into human conflicts. And anyway, Dom didn’t need weapons to assert his will. Rumor had it he was directly descended from the Capitoline Wolf in Rome. Humans spent so much time arguing about the statue’s age and origins, they never got around to wondering if there was any reality behind the ancient myth.
Lizette knew better. Dom might not be related to the fierce she-wolf who’d suckled the founder of Rome, but he was a formidable opponent. Although it rankled, she wasn’t about to test him. If she’d learned anything over her years of dealing with testosterone-poisoned males, it was to pick her battles. And this was just a skirmish. The real battle lay two hundred miles north, in a tiny town steps from the Canadian border.
If she had to concede defeat, she was going to do it on her own terms— and before someone got blood on her area rug. She marched to her bedroom, Dom on her heels. “All right,” she said over her shoulder. “Let me grab a bag.”
She shut the door in Dom’s face with a satisfying click.
LIZETTE’S HANDS shook as she threw clothes in the large pink duffel bag she used for the gym. She didn’t even bother removing the dirty yoga pants and sports bra at the bottom. “This is temporary,” she said under her breath. “He promised me. It’s a temporary thing.”
“Like a vacation, hmm?” Remy said from the doorway. He closed the door and leaned against it, his long, muscled body concealing most of the white woodwork. The bright color was one of the reasons she picked the apartment. After years in the brooding Lodge, with its gloomy, ever-present stained walnut, she’d been instantly drawn to this cheery, feminine space.
“I don’t remember inviting you in.” She tossed a few bras in the bag.
“You should, ah, put one of those on,” he said meaningfully.
She glanced down at her chest. Not being blessed with curves, she sometimes went without a bra. It was cold in Albany that morning, and she wore a puffer vest to work, figuring no one would notice her braless state, but removed it on the drive home. The heater in her old Honda had two settings: nuclear and surface-of-the-sun.
She grabbed one of the bras she’d thrown in the bag and faced away from him so she could do the whole arms-out-bra-clasp-arms-in shimmy thing.
“It’s gross for you to point that out, you know.”
“You pointed it out first, if you get my meaning.”
She snorted against her will. She tugged her sweater into place and turned back to him. “What was that about?” she mouthed, gesturing toward the living room.
His smile disappeared like the sun behind a cloud. “Nothing.”
“Is it the Beta position?”
Surprise flitted across his face. “I don’t give a shit about that.”
“Well, what is it, then?”
He shook his head. His mouth flattened into a stern line that said she’d get no answers from him, no matter how much she teased and cajoled.
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
“Just…don’t ask right now.” He glanced away. “Please.”
The “please” got to her—along with the miserable look on his face. Something was definitely going on between him and Dominic. It was the first time she’d seen anything come between them. Werewolves lived longer than humans—about a hundred and thirty years—and they reproduced sparingly. Most mated pairs had just one offspring. A fortunate few like her mother’s parents managed to give their child a sibling. Small families were the norm, which meant friendships were usually close-knit and lifelong.
Dom and Remy might not be related by blood, but they were as close as brothers. Whatever was bothering Remy, it was big.
She wanted to press him, but she knew he’d come to her when he was ready. “Okay,” she said. “Let me know if you feel like talking.”
“You need help packing?”
She gave him a look to let him know she recognized the deliberate change of subject. “No, thanks. I’m almost done. I don’t need much, since I won’t be staying long.”
“Mmmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What?”
She zipped the duffel with a little more force than necessary. “What does he want?” There was no need to define he. Only the Alpha had the authority and resources to send five Hunters to upend her life.
Remy shrugged.
“You’ve got to have some idea.” She pitched her voice as low as possible. The others could probably still hear, but they’d have to be actively listening…which they probably were.
Remy kept his voice just as low. “He wants to talk to you himself.”
“He could have picked up the phone.” She swallowed against the urge to raise her voice. Whisper-shouting was the most unsatisfying form of communication ever. She jabbed a finger toward the living room. “He didn’t have to send a small army as escort.”
“Maybe he was worried about you running away. You do have a history of doing that.”
Lizette felt like she’d been slapped. She lowered her gaze so he wouldn’t see how much his statement hurt.
But Remy was too observant to miss it. He pushed away from the door and pulled her into a hug. His scent washed over her—peppermint and a hint of something clear and sharp that made her think of fresh snow. Wolves were nose-blind to their own scent, but she knew she carried notes of it, too—a legacy from her mother, who’d been born on the Hudson Bay in Quebec. “Liz,” he whispered in her ear, so soft only she could hear. “I’m a dick.” She shook her head, but he hugged her tighter.
“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean it that way. I know you don’t like to talk about your foster family.”
“It’s all right.” She struggled against his grip. “Remy. Can’t…breathe.”
He released her and stepped back. “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression sheepish. “I’m still a hugger.”
She smiled. “It’s okay.”
“I mean it, though. I’m sorry about—”
“I promise it’s okay. And it’s not that I don’t like talking about them…” She groped for an explanation he’d understand. Unlike her, Remy was raised by werewolves—had spent his entire life surrounded by people just like him. “That part of my life feels like it happened to someone else, you know? I can’t really go back and visit, and I don’t think they’d even want me to.”
“Did they abuse you?” His expression darkened. In a heartbeat, he looked ready to tear someone apart limb by limb.“No! Nothing like that.” She sighed inwardly. For the first time, she realized she’d been wrong to be so tight-lipped about her childhood. Apparently, he and the rest of the pack interpreted her silence to mean she’d been mistreated. The humans who raised her after her parents died had been decent, if somewhat strict. Aside from some uncomfortable ogling from their oldest son, she’d never been abused or neglected.She leaned around Remy and glanced at the door, choosing not to whisper —the more wolves who heard her story, the better. “I didn’t run away because they were cruel. I mean, being a foster kid isn’t the greatest. They had five kids of their own, and they didn’t have a lot of money. I didn’t realize it until I was older, but they took me in because they needed the money from the state. But they weren’t bad people.” She took a deep breath, grateful to Remy for his
Remy tapped the side of his head. “Besides, I need the practice.”“For what?”“Most of the time, I can only talk mind-to-mind with other telepaths, but lately I’ve been able to send to anyone.” He narrowed his eyes. “Pretty cool, huh?” His voice flooded her mind as if he’d shouted into her ear with a megaphone.“Whoa.” She put a knee against the dresser to steady herself. “Warn me before you do that again, okay?” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her brain, even though she’d learned in freshman psychology class that the brain actually lacks nerve endings. Tell that to someone with chronic migraines.“Sorry.” He didn’t look the least bit guilty. “I’m still learning to control the volume.”“No worries.” She moved into the en suite bathroom to gather some toiletries. She crouched in front of her vanity and plucked a shampoo bottle off the bottom shelf.“Ready?” Remy’s voice floated from the bedroom.No. Never.She stood and caught her reflection in the antique mir
She sighed and put in her earbuds. It was going to be a long ride.The drive from Albany to Champlain took about three hours, with a little extra time thrown in for a bathroom break and a fast food stop—at least for Lizette. The others ate lunch on the way down.Remy twisted around and rested his chin on the back of his seat. “You don’t eat clean anymore?”She lowered the french fry she’d been about to stuff in her mouth. “You realize that’s annoying, right?“What is?”Dom snorted. “Being a self-righteous prick about what other people eat.”“I’m not a self-righteous prick! Chris, am I a self-righteous prick?”The male on Lizette’s right had spent most of the trip dozing with his arms folded over his chest. He replied without opening his eyes. “Yes.”“Takes one to know one,” Remy mumbled.Lizette laughed. “You’re not self-righteous, Rem. No comment on the other part, though.”“He’s got a Tinder profile,” Dom said dryly. “He’s definitely a prick.”“You don’t even know what Tinder is.” R
The problem had even spilled over from werewolf society and trickled down into the human world. Every now and then news headlines told of a madman or killer who’d committed some unspeakable crime. In some cases, it was just a random crazy human. But in others it was a latent who’d lost his or her grip on reality, and the local Alpha would dispatch a group of wolves to quietly take care of the problem.In the morning the human police would find the defendant hanged in his cell. Was it murder? Yes, but it was too risky to allow those wolves to live.The human word lunatic was a lot closer to the truth than most people realized.At first Haley’s guardians thought she might simply be a late bloomer. But when puberty came and went and she still hadn’t Turned, they were desperate. So they sent her to Lizette, hoping some time with another female around her own age might relieve some of the Haley’s anxieties. What if she never Turned? Latents often lived a sort of half-life. Cut off from the
The problem had even spilled over from werewolf society and trickled down into the human world. Every now and then news headlines told of a madman or killer who’d committed some unspeakable crime. In some cases, it was just a random crazy human. But in others it was a latent who’d lost his or her grip on reality, and the local Alpha would dispatch a group of wolves to quietly take care of the problem.In the morning the human police would find the defendant hanged in his cell. Was it murder? Yes, but it was too risky to allow those wolves to live.The human word lunatic was a lot closer to the truth than most people realized.At first Haley’s guardians thought she might simply be a late bloomer. But when puberty came and went and she still hadn’t Turned, they were desperate. So they sent her to Lizette, hoping some time with another female around her own age might relieve some of the Haley’s anxieties. What if she never Turned? Latents often lived a sort of half-life. Cut off from the
The sound ripped through her like a thunderclap, and her knees almost gave out. She clenched her fists and pressed her fingernails into her palms—a trick she learned from Dom. The pain steadied her. She pushed the door open……and locked gazes with the Alpha. Her Alpha. Maxime Alexandre Simard.He sat behind his desk, his posture relaxed. A lord in command of his domain.And in the werewolf world, that’s exactly what he was.The first time she saw him was in the back of a Los Angeles County courtroom. Her caseworker had called her foster parents the day before, breathless, saying a relative had come forward—a distant cousin of Lizette’s mother. He was flying in from New York and would be there the next day to file the paperwork.In court he wore a charcoal gray suit and a dark blue tie. His jacket sleeves rode up when he shook her foster father’s hand, exposing his shirt cuffs and the strange metal jewelry he wore there instead of buttons. When she slid past him to climb into the limo,
Was he displaying his on purpose to intimidate her? But no, displays weren’t really Max’s style. He was far too subtle for that.“How are your headaches?” he asked without turning around.She closed her eyes. “Fine.”“I can smell your lie from here.”It was impossible to reply without telling the truth—or getting caught in another lie—so she clamped her mouth shut. She had a feeling he was going to say whatever he wanted to say anyway.“You’ve lost weight.”She gritted her teeth. “In the human world, that’s generally considered a good thing. Women are always trying to lose weight.”“You’re not a human.” He rolled his neck on his shoulders, the movement drawing her gaze. She’d forgotten how big he was. Even if he wasn’t an Alpha, he’d still command any room he entered, and not just because of his physical size. The fabric of his shirt stretched tight over powerful shoulders and a broad back that tapered to lean hips. Her stare sank lower…until she realized where it was headed and tore
“I promised you five years,” he said, staring down at her without a shred of compassion. “You’ve had them.”“I have a job and a career. I have a life—”“Your life is here.”“That wasn’t my decision.”His gaze hardened. He slid his fingers through her hair, brushing past her ear to trace a heavy coil that had fallen onto her shoulder. He twirled the thick bundle of strands around his finger, his arm grazing her breast. His arm around her waist tightened.She stood still, her breaths shallow. The predator in her recognized the bigger, more powerful predator in him. Her wolf waited, wondering what his would do—knowing they had no choice, no matter what he decided. None at all.“Your place is here,” he said finally.She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. “That wasn’t part of the bargain.” Deep inside, her wolf stirred. Her teeth throbbed in sync with her heartbeat—the first stage of the Turn. “You lied to me.”Without warning, the Alpha was back. His wolf slammed into his