“Everybody here?” Traker Jakes took his seat at the head of the big dining room table in the lodge and pointedly made eye contact with every other wolf who’d managed to show up tonight. Kentucky Jones, a.k.a. Dr. Tuck, the pack’s vet, sat at Trak’s left; Trak’s older brother, Lawz, was on his right.

The rest of the single guys—Evan Dark, Manny Vicario, and Drew Miklos—had taken seats, and while there was space for Wils and Ronan and their mates, no one really expected the four of them tonight. They were currently somewhere up in Canada celebrating a long-delayed honeymoon. He’d kind of thought Brad and Cain and their mate, Cherry, would show up, but you never knew. Understandable, considering how flat-out sexy Cherry was. Trak imagined she could prove to be quite a distraction.

Those four guys had all found their mates, proof that the whole concept of Feral Passions was on target. Everyone—including Trak—had laughed at Brad when he’d first proposed the idea that they build an upscale resort for women here on the wolf preserve as a way to meet and find mates. The guys had laughed even harder when Trak reversed his original opinion and agreed that building a resort designed with the single woman in mind was an excellent way for the pack to attract available women up here to the middle of nowhere.

It wasn’t as easy as it sounded for single werewolves to find lifetime mates, especially when their women birthed only male children and the guys liked to howl at the moon.

No one was laughing now, and it hadn’t escaped Trak’s notice that all of the guys had ended up joining the partnership of Feral Passions Resort Inc. Cherry had been the catalyst—Cherry DuBois had won their hearts when she’d fallen for both Brad and Cain, accepting not only the fact the guys went furry and ran on four legs, but also that she’d get two guys for life—a very long life—when she went furry along with them. Brad and Cain had been a pair in search of a third, and Cherry had slipped right into her place as part of a loving triad. Even better, Cherry had come to the resort with her sister and her sister’s best friend, two women who’d fallen for each other as well as both Ronan and Wils, and another atypical match had been formed.

As if there was anything at all typical about women falling in love with werewolves.

But it was already the middle of August. They’d agreed they’d shut down for the season by mid-September, and there were still six wolves actively searching but still without women. Not that they hadn’t had plenty of chances, but no one wanted to risk falling for a woman who wouldn’t be able to handle the kind of life the pack could offer.

“Ya know, Trak, it would be a hell of a lot easier if we could tell them what we are, damn it.” Evan glanced from one guy to the next. “Trying to figure out if a woman’s the kind who can handle pack life without a hint of what she’s getting into? Think about it.”

Manny’s laughter lacked a certain amount of humor. “Tell me about it. Convincing a woman you love her while hiding the world’s biggest secret isn’t easy. We want them to be honest with us, but we’re lying to them through our very sharp canines.”

Trak glared at Manny. “Armando, if that jackass Cain can do it, you can figure it out.”

“Who you callin’ a jackass, my exalted alpha? Good evening, gentlemen.” Cain Boudin sauntered into the dining room with Brad and Cherry beside him. “Sorry we’re late. I know you’ve missed me like crazy, Trak, but Ronan called. They’re in Alberta, everyone’s having a great time, and they said to tell all of you hello from the four of them. By the way, they’ve got a bet going that Tuck and Manny are going down this week or next. Just thought you should be forewarned.”

Tuck laughed, reached across the table, and high-fived Manny. “She’d better be a whole lot of woman. We are not small men.” He gave Manny an appreciative glance. “Anywhere.”

Cherry laughed so hard she snorted. Trak merely waited them out while the jokes got tossed around the table. It was good to see them laughing, because there’d been a time when he feared the pack wouldn’t survive much longer. When a man lived for hundreds of years, he saw a lot of changes, and the modern era had not been good to shifters. The old days had been so much easier—when you wanted a mate, you took one. Grabbed a woman and hauled her into the hills, and rarely did you find one who wasn’t willing to make a new life within the pack.

Women back in the day led hard lives, treated like so much chattel with very few rights and not much to look forward to beyond popping out babies on a regular basis. Pack life was always a shared life, with women treated like royalty. Once they’d decided on a mate—because in the old days, the women were given a choice of men once they were captured—then they went through the process of joining the pack physically. A single small bite, and she became one of them with a life span to match her mate’s and the chance to run as free as any other member of the pack.

Female werewolves were made, not born. A female bore only male children, all of them werewolves, but she was an equal within the pack. Before women had won equality in the modern world, it made a captive mate’s changed circumstances much easier to bear. Modern women, though? They already had it all. When you couldn’t tell a gal what you were offering her beyond life out in the boonies surrounded by men, it wasn’t easy to make it look like a very good trade-off for life in the city and all that it offered.

The purpose of Feral Passions was to change all of that. It gave the men a chance to get to know women, in many cases intimately. That was one of the really terrific things about the modern woman, at least the ones who’d made it to Feral Passions. They really liked sex. Loved sex, in fact, and while only four men had found mates, every guy here had enjoyed more quality time with the feminine gender than at any other time in their very long lives.

Hell, he’d waited for a mate for well over a hundred years. Trak figured he could wait a few more. In the meantime, Feral Passions had turned out to be the best financial investment any of them had ever made. And they’d gotten Cherry, Christa, and Stephanie in the first season. Not bad.

He clapped his hands, and the chatter stopped. “Okay, gentlemen. Time to figure out the work schedule for the coming week. We’ve got six young women expecting to have the time of their lives. Three of them are nurses, two more are in finance, and the last is unemployed and looking to have ‘way too much fun.’ Seriously, that’s what it says on her reservation.” He shook his head. Never a dull moment. “It’s up to us to make sure that’s exactly what happens.”

“The week after that, we’ve got a bridal party coming,” Manny added. “Three bachelorettes and the bride-to-be coming to celebrate a week of freedom. Now, whether or not the bride’s freedom is, shall we say, all encompassing, we’ll have to wait to find out. But in case it isn’t, I would suggest you manage to keep your paws off the woman while still showing her a good time.” He raised one very expressive eyebrow. “The bridesmaids, however, are fair game.”

“Excellent point, Manny. If the bride-to-be doesn’t want a man trying to get her into the sack, all men will back off.” Trak made eye contact once again with everyone at the table, including Cherry, who had the audacity to wink at him. He had a feeling she’d never quite get the concept of deferring to her alpha. He bit back a smile.

She’d definitely gained self-confidence along with her werewolf mates. It was all good.

Meg Bonner stood in the bedroom doorway, watching her boss as he slept the unrepentant sleep of the well-fucked male. He lay on his stomach with one hand draped over the side of the rumpled bed; his black hair, streaked with iron gray and usually so neatly combed, was tousled into sweaty curls around his face. With his penetrating hazel eyes hidden in sleep, the thick sweep of dark lashes left perfect half-moons against his cheeks. He was, without a doubt, the most breathtaking man she’d ever seen. And he was hers. Sighing softly, her gaze roamed his body. Sheets tangled over his perfectly formed butt, and sunlight through the window highlighted his sleek, muscular back and strong arms, teasing her with the visuals and sensations of exactly what he’d been doing with that body.

Of what that body had been doing with her body.

Muscles pulsed between her legs, released, and tightened again. Her mind filled with memories of his strong thighs between hers, the clench and stretch of rock-hard buttocks beneath her hands, his strength as he powered into her. Her breath hitched in her throat. At one point, he’d dipped his head, taken first one nipple between his lips and then the other. Her breasts, which felt so ponderous to her, captivated him.

His big hands had held her, fingers tangled in her hair as he looked into her eyes just before taking her over the edge for the most amazing orgasm imaginable.

Yet here she stood, fully dressed, hair combed, purse in hand, ready to go back to work. Even worse? She was actually thinking of looking for a new job, of walking away from him forever, even though she knew it would kill her. She was such an idiot, but he was just too … too everything. That had to be the reason for the panic, because for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out where else this monumental case of cold feet could be coming from.

Her boss, her lover, and her fiancé? That last word was the one she still couldn’t seem to wrap her head around. The most handsome, the smartest, sexiest, nicest—not to mention richest—guy she’d ever known wanted to marry her. No caveats, no prenup, nothing but her promise to love him back as much as he claimed to love her.

If she could actually make herself believe he really meant it.

Just like her mother never meant it. She’d made damned sure Meg knew there was nothing about her worth loving. She glanced at the sparkling solitaire diamond on the ring finger of her left hand. He’d actually gotten down on one knee in one of Portland’s nicest restaurants in full view of the other patrons, asked her to marry him with promises of love forever, and then slipped it on her finger just two months ago. She’d never forget the sigh that spread across the exquisitely decorated dining room—an audible wave of pure emotion—or the applause from the other diners when she accepted, sitting there at their table in absolute shock and happy tears until Zach stood and pulled her into a loving embrace. He’d cried, too, hazel eyes sparkling beneath the crystal chandelier.

Theirs had been—and still was, for all intents and purposes—a storybook romance. The wealthy young owner of a successful company falling for his personal assistant, courting her, asking for her hand.

Storybook, as in fantasy—but that was the problem in a nutshell. Fantasies didn’t come true in Meg’s world.

In all that time—all the plans they’d made for the wedding, all the laughter and meals with their friends, the private times like this when they sneaked out of the office in the middle of the day and raced to the condo she shared with him for a quickie that was anything but quick—in all that time, she hadn’t really believed it.

Why would anyone like Zachary Royce Trenton love a woman like her? She wasn’t blind. She saw herself in the mirror every single morning, a neatly attired yet obviously plus-sized blonde with a loud laugh that matched her full-figured size, a somewhat raunchy sense of humor, and the ability to organize even the most disorganized businessman and make his office run like a well-oiled machine.

That had to be the only reason he wanted her. The sex was beyond wonderful, and he always seemed to be enjoying whatever they did, but there was a bit more of her than most men generally found attractive. Zach said she was lush, sexy, and voluptuous. She figured those were his politically correct terms for fat. She knew she didn’t look horrible if you ignored the pounds that no amount of exercise seemed to affect, and she was always—as her grandmother used to say—well put together, but still …

Zach said he loved her, and he talked about their future with stars in his eyes, but who did he really see by his side? Did he honestly want a woman who might make him a laughingstock among his wealthy, physically attractive, and active friends? A woman who never went out in public in a bathing suit and never played golf because of the way she looked in the shorts?

Did Zach really love her? Did he love Meg Bonner in spite of her imperfections, or did he merely love what she could do for him and his very successful company?

On that depressing thought, she quietly stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She’d left a stack of paperwork on her desk when he’d grabbed her hand and, amid his laughter and her flustered protests, tugged her out of her chair, out of the office, and into his private elevator to the parking garage.

She glanced at her watch. Damn. They’d been gone for over two hours! She really needed to get back to work, especially since she was going to be gone all next week. She gathered up her things and quietly slipped out the door.

With any luck, the upcoming week at Feral Passions Resort down in California’s rugged Trinity Alps might help her find answers to her questions. She needed time away from Zach, a chance to interact with her girlfriends, to indulge in some time for herself without Zach’s overwhelming presence.

It was impossible to think rationally about their relationship when he was around, though she’d managed to compartmentalize her emotional life from her work life. Personal assistant Meg Bonner kept it together because that was her job, but fiancée Meggie Bonner had a hard time questioning what the hell was going on in her personal life whenever she was with Zach.

Zach owned her heart whenever he was near, but when they were apart, it was too easy to see they really didn’t have anything going for them beyond the fact she was head over heels in love with the man. Maybe Zach loved the hero worship. Maybe he needed a woman who thought he was flawless, or he had to have a woman who looked at him with open and wide-eyed lust whenever she glanced his way.

Except she knew Zach wasn’t a narcissist. He was an honestly wonderful guy, but did he really love her? It was an honest question, one she really needed to find an answer to before they married next month, but it was too hard to figure out just what was going on when she was with him.

Which was why this week away was so important. Time to think without Zach clouding her thoughts. Meg had never heard of the resort before, but Elle and Jules swore that Feral Passions was the ideal place for their bachelorette getaway. Darian had agreed, so all four girls were going to spend an entire week in an isolated resort on a wolf preserve.

Wolves? Now that had caught her attention. She’d always loved wolves, but so had the rest of their “gang of four,” as the parents called them. Except Meg’s, of course. They barely knew she was alive, much less had friends, but those amazing friends had kept Meg on the right track for twenty of her twenty-five years. She was five when she met Jules, Elle, and Darian waiting in line on their first day of kindergarten, the only girls in a class dominated by stinky boys.

Now? Now she felt as if she paused at a fork in the road where she really wasn’t certain which way to go. The boy in question was definitely not stinky. Her friends were still single—no one had a boyfriend, though Jules had gotten close to marriage about a year ago—so Meg was the first to make this journey. Except she, Megan Ann Bonner, the one who would not be stopped at anything she attempted, felt as if she paused with one foot raised and no idea where to plant it. No idea which road to take, much less how to move forward.

She hoped Feral Passions and a week of utter indulgence would help her discover if what she and Zach had was good or bad, right or wrong.

She hoped time at Feral Passions would help clear her head and at the same time give her single besties the time of their lives. While they played, Meg prayed she’d either find the strength to actually look for another job and break off her engagement, or accept the fact that Zach actually meant what he said. That he loved her. That he wanted to marry her.

That he thought she was absolutely perfect. Yeah. Right.

What a joke.

Elle Marcel left her client’s office and headed toward the coffee shop at the bookstore. Darian and Jules were probably getting tired of waiting, but the man she’d just spent the past hour with had needed more than the usual go-get-’em-you-can-do-it pep talk. He really was just as bad at marketing and promotion as he thought—worse, even—but it wasn’t lack of confidence. It was flat-out lack of ability.

Maybe she needed to write this guy off. She definitely needed a new job. Shouldn’t a life skills coach have better, well, life skills? Yep, simple. She was on the wrong career track.

She’d really wanted to be a veterinarian. Animals were much nicer than people. If her lease allowed, she’d have at least a dozen cats and dogs. Her grandmother said she had the “family gift” for healing critters, which was true. Weird, certainly, but she could actually heal injured animals. Unfortunately, she lacked any gift for advanced math, a necessity for the right studies to succeed in vet school. Like her poor marketing guy, it was her lack of ability holding her back, and didn’t that just suck?

“Hey, Elle. You just getting here, too?”

Startled, Elle spun around and then laughed. “I am. Dar, you’re never late. What’s up with our favorite greater Portland weathergirl?”

“Don’t even talk weather. The current chief talking head in news wanted me to postpone my week at Feral Passions so he can take his girlfriend to Cabo. I told him no way, that I’d scheduled this week over a month ago and the reservations were nonrefundable. However, his ego is tender, and he’s the producer’s favorite. It required more diplomacy than telling him to stuff it.”

Elle linked arms with Dar. “You could charm the balls off a bull, sweetheart. I don’t see you having any trouble charming that jackass.”

“That’s the problem.” Dar pushed open the door to the coffee shop. “If he had balls, there’d be something to charm.”

Elle snorted. “Well, that makes it tough.” Laughing, she led the way into the coffee shop. “Look. Jules is already here.” Elle hauled Dar across the small shop, and both of them got hugs from Jules.

“I’ll go order for us, Elle.” Darian went over to the counter while Elle took a seat.

“It’s been way too long since we all got together,” Elle said, “but I feel guilty doing this without Meg.”

“Yeah.” Jules sighed. “But Meg’s the reason I called this little meeting.”

“What?” Elle sat back in her chair, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

Jules shrugged. “Wait until Dar’s back. I’m worried about Meg. We need to talk.”

Trak stomped out of the main dining room at Feral Passions and looked around the grounds for his kitchen crew. This week’s group of women was going to be showing up for the last breakfast before checking out in another couple of hours, but the stove was cold, the coffee not made, and there was no sign of Brad or Cain. Wils and Ronan were still gone for at least another week—but Brad and Cain had promised to hang around until the other guys got back.

Unless something had happened to Cherry. “Crap.” He hadn’t thought of that, so he shot a quick glance toward their window upstairs. Dark. No one was home, and Cherry was fine. He knew that. Irritated and really wanting to punch something, he stood a moment longer, staring at the windows on the second floor. This had all been a hell of lot easier before the guys actually started finding mates, even if that was the ultimate reason they’d built this frickin’ resort in the first place.

“Mornin’, Trak.”

Shit! He spun around so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. “Lawz? What the hell are you doing here? I thought you had a job over in Humboldt County this week.”

Lawz merely shrugged. “So did I. They ran into some sort of snag with the county, have to do a few more studies before we can get moving. Then Brad called last night and asked me if I could cover for him. He and Cain wanted to take Cherry away for a couple of days.”

“Oh, really?” Trak folded his arms across his chest. “So why didn’t they ask me?” He knew it wasn’t Lawson’s fault—he merely glared at his brother on general principle. Lawz could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. He might be older, but he seemed to move in his own world with a totally different set of rules. Sort of like another guy who drove him nuts.

A thought popped into his head. “It’s Cain, right? This was his idea.”

Lawz merely laughed. “Worry about Cain later.”

Trak bristled. He actually felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Lawz grinned at him like he was the biggest joke going. “Look at you, going all alpha on me. This is exactly why they didn’t say anything. Cain will never be your favorite wolf in spite of the fact he’s damned good at his job. Hell, he’s the only one who’d even consider doing the job. Face it, not another pack member here would consider working as your enforcer, so you’d better remember that before you blow your top.”

“I never blow my—”

Lawz held up his right hand. “Look, Trak, neither one of them wanted Cherry to feel guilty for making you mad. She knows you too well, knows how fucking anal you can be about the details when we’ve got people coming in, and if she thought you didn’t approve, she’d have refused to go. They’ve been mated for almost two months and still haven’t gotten that honeymoon you said they could take, and the guys were feeling really bad about that. All that girl’s done is work! They’re gone. They’ll be back when they’re ready. Get over it.”

Trak took a couple of deep breaths. Counted to ten. Counted to twenty and exhaled. “Okay. So who’s going to make breakfast?”

Lawz hooked an arm around Trak’s neck and hauled him back into the lodge. “Guess,” he said.

Trak growled. But he followed Lawz back into the lodge, and that pissed him off even more.