CHAPTER SEVEN
Why did she always end up with the cart that had squeaky wheels?
Chewing the tiny cube of cake she’d gotten from a sample station, Gwen pushed the half-full cart down the aisle. Zander walked beside her, a silent sentinel. And she . . . well, she was pretty much acting as if she were alone.
It was rude, sure, but she suspected that the reason he wanted Bracken to stay behind was so that he could talk about last night. He probably wanted to ensure she understood that the little fumble they’d had in the kitchen didn’t mean anything, that she shouldn’t read anything into it. And how embarrassing would that conversation be?
In the car, she’d spoken only to give him directions to the grocery store. She’d stayed quiet, hoping he’d see that she didn’t need a talk, and that she wasn’t mistaking the fumble for anything other than a drunken mishap. God knew she’d had plenty of those herself over the years. He’d get no judgment from her.
Humming along with the music coming through the speakers, she did her best to drown out the irritating squeaky wheels. If she could just—
“You’re good at ignoring people, aren’t you, Gwen?”
“Dude, I’m so good at it, I can make people doubt that they’re actually alive.”
Zander’s mouth quirked, even as his nose wrinkled in distaste. Most guys didn’t like shopping. For Zander, it wasn’t the stores themselves that annoyed him. It was the fluorescent lighting and the clash of scents—fruit, meat, detergent, flowers, bread, soaps. The smells didn’t mix well at all. “You haven’t checked your list once.”
“I have it memorized.” Not really. She just liked to browse and grab some impulse buys. Spotting Marlon’s preferred brand of hot chocolate, she sighed. It had to be on the top shelf, didn’t it? Gripping one of the metal shelves for balance, she reached up to grab the tub. No joy. She glared at Zander. “Are you going to watch me struggle?”
“That position pushes out your tits and your ass, so, yeah.”
She rolled her eyes. “Boys. You’re all the same.” But he reached up, nabbed the hot chocolate, and dropped it into her hands. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” As they began to walk again, Zander spoke, “Last night—”
“We don’t need to talk about it.” It was both a statement and an assurance.
“Yeah, we do.”
She clenched her hands around the cart handle. “You don’t need to gently tell me that it was a one-time thing. I already get that. I’m sure I looked damn stunning while you were wearing Beer Vision, but I know the reality is very different.”
Zander frowned. “The reality?”
“You’d been drinking, you—”
“I wasn’t drunk. I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. If my Alpha hadn’t called last night and interrupted us, I’d have taken you right there.”
She bristled. “I wouldn’t have fucked anyone in the kitchen, right where any number of people could have walked in.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Gwen. It would have happened.” He paused as she stopped to grab milk. “Unfortunately, it didn’t. But it will.” He’d make sure of it. “I have to know.”
“Know what?”
“What it’s like to be in you. Taking you. Tonight, I’ll have you under me. Why do you look so shocked?” He leaned forward. “I like sex, Gwen. I like it a lot. I like having it often. I intend to have it with you. Repeatedly.”
More than a little surprised by the direction the conversation had headed, Gwen exhaled raggedly. While the thought of being under him held some appeal, she knew better. Careful not to squash the brownies, she placed a heavy jug of milk in the cart. “It’s not gonna happen.” The words came out hoarse, so she cleared her throat and firmly added, “It’s just not.”
The hell it won’t, thought Zander. He put his face close to hers. “You think I can’t tell that you want me?”
Oh, Gwen knew he could sense it. He was a shifter, so he’d be able to scent that she wanted him. And that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Grabbing the cart, she hastened her step as she took a sharp turn around an aisle . . . and shuddered. She hated walking down the frozen-food aisle; the chill always gave her goose bumps. Well, at least it might cool her down and calm her libido. That would sure be helpful.
Seizing the cart, he dragged it to a halt. “Look at me, Gwen. Come on, baby, look at me.”
She met his gaze . . . and swallowed at the sheer intensity there. “What?” she rasped.
“You’re running from me. From this. Why?” He cocked his head. “Is it because I’m not human? Does that freak you out?”
“No,” she said immediately, not wanting him to think any such thing. “You don’t freak me out in any way.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She jutted out her chin. “I don’t get involved with people who’re spoken for.”
“Good. Neither do I.”
But he was spoken for, because . . . “You’re a shifter.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he said, impatient. He had no idea where she was going with this. He thought it best not to comment on how cute she looked when she lifted her chin like that.
“You have a true mate waiting for you somewhere out there. Kissing you last night . . . I feel like I touched something that belonged to someone else. And now I feel shitty about it.”
Understanding, Zander sighed. He hadn’t expected the true-mate thing to be an issue. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered anyone before now. Given that Gwen Miller was a female with principles, it would have occurred to him to expect that response if she’d been right. But she was human and didn’t seem to properly understand the way it worked.
He rested his hand in the crook of her neck and caressed the column of her throat with his thumb. “You’re right that I have a true mate, but who says she’s waiting for me, Gwen? She could be imprinted on another. She could be someone who doesn’t want a mate. She could be someone I never meet for any number of reasons.”
Gwen frowned. “Imprinting is when two people who aren’t true mates form a mating bond, right?”
“That’s right. It happens more often than you’d think. I know several imprinted couples. One of my closest friends imprinted on a female not so long ago; their bond is as strong as any I’ve seen between true mates.” He skimmed his finger over her cheekbone. “My uncle died recently.”
She winced. “Sorry to hear that.”
Zander shrugged. “I didn’t know him well. He searched for his mate all his life. He never found her, and he died alone. He told me in a letter he’d written shortly before his death that I shouldn’t spend my life doing the same. I never intended to anyway because, for me, searching for my mate would be pointless.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Several things can block the frequency of the mating bond, including doubts and fears and mental walls. Did you know that?”
She shook her head. “Let me guess. You have mental walls that are sky-high.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “You could say that my boundaries are more extensive than most.” And he feared mating, in part, because he liked to be in control of himself, his life, his choices. Finding his true mate would take some of that control away.
“Those walls I have will block the bond,” Zander continued. “That means I can’t even be sure I’ll recognize my predestined mate if I cross her path. We could pass each other in the street and never know. Hell, we could know each other for years and never realize we’re mates. Unless she and I bond, I don’t belong to her any more than she belongs to me. If it worked any other way, shifters would never be able to form a mating bond with someone who wasn’t their true mate.” He tugged on her braid. “In other words, I’m just as free and single as you are.”
She looked away. “I don’t understand. You’re . . .”
“What?”
Gorgeous, edible, out of my league. Gwen slid her gaze back to him. “You didn’t show the slightest bit of interest in me until yesterday, and now you’re all up in my space.”
Yeah, well, he hadn’t admitted to himself just how much he wanted her until yesterday. He moved aside her collar so he could look at the bite on her neck. Masculine satisfaction flared through him—perhaps more satisfaction than he should be comfortable with. He brushed his thumb over the imprint of his teeth. “Do you know what that is?”
“I’m pretending it’s not there.”
Zander fought a smile. “But it is there.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m looking right at it.”
“At what? There’s nothing to look at.”
Mouth curving, he cupped her jaw. “That mark tells others that you’re taken. Not by someone who considers you a simple possession—shifters won’t mark people they don’t respect, and they don’t do it on a whim or for shits and giggles. The mark says you’re taken by someone who respects, protects, and values you. Someone who, yeah, will be up in your space. Right now, while you have a threat hanging over your head, you need someone that close.”
He respected and valued her? “You don’t even know me.”
“I like what I know. I know you’re smart, resilient, you stand your ground, and you’ll be a voice for people who can’t speak up for themselves. It takes a strong person to do that.” Even his wolf liked her strength, though he still held her at a metaphorical distance.
“You say all that, but you’re still suspicious of me for a reason you haven’t yet explained.”
“I’m suspicious of whatever I don’t understand. You, Gwen, are a mystery in many ways.” It was the truth; it just didn’t fully answer her question. But Zander didn’t think that telling her of his wolf’s struggles would help. Before she could question him further, he said, “Now let’s finish up here and get back, yeah? There are too many scents in this place.”
She let out a breath. “All right. I’m almost done.”
As they’d each said their piece, the tension between them disappeared. But things sort of weirdly . . . shifted. She’d thought he’d been up in her space before, but she quickly realized he’d actually given her space. Now that the air was clear, he apparently saw no need to hold back.
He stroked her hair. Doodled patterns on her nape. Breathed her in. Nipped her earlobe. Swept a hand down her back. Pressed the occasional soft kiss to her neck.
Every touch was possessive and playful. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever paid her that level of attention before. It was like he honed every sense on her, making her feel like the center of everything as he touched and crowded her. He was everywhere, and it was as overwhelming as it was thrilling. It was also a problem, because it was firing her libido.
As they were nearing the checkout stand, he let out a low growl that made her think of an idling motorcycle. She threw him a questioning look, surprised to see his nostrils flaring.
“You’re wet,” he said in a low, deep voice.
Her cheeks reddened. “You have no one to blame for that but yourself.”
Once they’d bagged the groceries, they loaded them into the trunk of his SUV. She’d wanted to take her truck, but he’d rightly pointed out that as the Moores knew her vehicle, they’d know to look for her if they saw it around. Unable to argue that, she’d agreed to let him drive her to the store. Done loading the trunk, Zander drove en route to the house.
Resting one hand on her thigh, he asked, “Did Yvonne officially adopt you?”
Gwen sighed. “You’re so damn nosy.”
“Answer my question, and I’ll answer one of yours.”
“All right. No, she didn’t. She just fostered me, the same as she did Marlon and Julie. Your turn.” She lifted a brow. “You ever had anal sex?”
He did a double take. “What?”
“I’m curious. How’d it go?”
Zander gritted his teeth. “I know what you’re doing, Gwen.” She was trying to make the conversation superficial, trying to keep him at a distance. That wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t interested in fucking a stranger, and he wanted to know her better. “No, I haven’t. Shifters tend to save anal sex for their mates. Now, I have another question for you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she mumbled.
“How long have you lived with Yvonne?”
“Since I was eight. Now you. What do you prefer—tits or ass?”
“Gwen.”
She turned to the window. “Fine, don’t answer.”
“I’m more of an ass-man. And you, by the way, have a hot little ass. One last question.” For now, anyway. “What happened to your foster father?” he asked softly, already suspecting the male was dead.
“The first one died in a car accident.”
He frowned. “There was a second one? What happened to him?”
“Karma.” She sighed. “So, you like to use toys in bed?”
Zander grinned wickedly and lightly squeezed her thigh. “You’d be my toy, baby.”
Her whole body seemed to flush at that. She’d heard about sex with shifters. Heard it was rough, intense, mind-blowing. What was the dumb phrase the shifter groupies used? Once you go shifter, you’ll never go back. She’d always snickered at that. But while Zander’s potent sex appeal swamped her, and she fairly ached for him, she suspected that he would leave a lasting impression on her. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
As they pulled up in front of the B&B and she spotted a familiar Audi, Gwen’s libido instantly cooled down. The owner of said Audi was standing on the porch with Marlon, and they were having some kind of standoff.
Zander studied the thin, lanky male standing on the porch. Zander didn’t recognize him from Half ’n’ Half, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen him around. “Who’s that?”
She unbuckled her seat belt. “My ex-therapist, Aidan.”
Zander’s brows snapped together. The idea that she might have suffered some sort of trauma made anger surge through him, but he kept his voice even. “Why did you have a therapist?”
“For therapy.”
Impatient, he pushed, “Why did you go to therapy?”
“Because Julie wouldn’t go unless I did.”
He gritted his teeth at her evasiveness. “Gwen.”
“Do you have to be so fucking nosy?”
“When the fucking subject’s you, yeah.”
Huffing, she hopped out of the SUV and slowly climbed the steps onto the porch. She felt Zander’s body heat, knew he was close behind her despite his not making a sound.
Aidan’s face softened in a way she couldn’t help but find creepy. “Gwen.” His eyes slid to Zander, who now stood at her side so close their arms touched. And the therapist clearly didn’t like it. “I’m Aidan Rogers. You are?”
“Why are you here?” Gwen asked, tone flat. Aidan would just love to get some sort of emotional reaction from her to evaluate it. She’d give him nothing.
“I wanted to check on you. Julie told me that you declined my offer of support and didn’t want to see me. I respect that—”
“Do you?” rumbled Zander. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here.” He didn’t know anything about this asshole, but he did know that the human felt something for Gwen. It was plain to see, and it rubbed Zander the wrong way. His wolf stalked forward and pressed against Zander’s skin, taking a good look at the male. Weak, the wolf decided. No threat. Still, the beast wanted him gone. So did Zander.
Aidan ignored him, keeping his attention on Gwen. “Could we speak privately?”
“No,” she said.
Aidan’s mouth flattened. “Julie mentioned that you have guests offering to help. Shifters. I’m guessing the man beside you is one of them.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Marlon asked, “Should you be sharing anything that Julie said to you, given it’s all supposed to be private between you and your patient?”
Turning to him, Aidan raised a placatory hand. “I just want to talk to Gwen. That’s all.”
“Here’s my problem, Aidan,” said Zander, face hard. “I don’t like the way you look at her. Not at all. Your voice changes, softens, when you say her name. Did you know that? No? Well, it does. And, yeah, I don’t like it.”
Twin spots of color stained Aidan’s cheeks. “She’s one of my patients. I’m fond of her.”
“No, she’s not,” said Marlon. “She hasn’t been one of your patients for a long time.”
“That doesn’t mean I no longer feel any concern for her.”
Zander cocked his head. “Do you always chase down patients who choose to end their sessions with you?”
Aidan gave a dismissive snort of laughter that was clearly false. “I’m hardly chasing her.”
“But you did at first,” said Marlon. “Isn’t that right?”
“At the time, I was worried,” Aidan defended. “She left therapy before we could make any real progress.”
“She left? I wonder why that was.” The sarcasm in Marlon’s voice made Aidan flush.
Done with the whole thing, Gwen said, “Go home, Aidan.” She didn’t need this shit. “And don’t come back.”
“I just want to help you,” he said, looking the image of what she believed was false concern. “Everything that’s happening with the Moores has to be tearing open some wounds.”
God, the guy was dramatic. “It’s not,” Gwen said truthfully.
“Witnessing violence, feeling unsafe, the pressure to keep secrets—it must be like reliving your childhood,” he insisted.
Gwen glared at Aidan, pissed that he’d pretty much exposed the bare bones of her childhood to Zander. The asshole was wrong. It wasn’t like reliving that time. This situation wasn’t about her; it was about Andie—an innocent female who’d been drugged, beaten, and terrorized.
“You want me to be this fragile person who needs your help to heal,” said Gwen. He’d even tried to convince her that she was. “Maybe you like the idea of being someone’s savior, and it makes you feel powerful, I don’t know. But I’m not fragile. I don’t need you. And I have no wish whatsoever to speak to you as a therapist or as a fellow human being.”
“In other words,” began Zander, closing in on him, “you aren’t welcome here, and you need to fucking go. You also need to stay the hell away.”
Gwen swallowed. The words had been spoken low and soft, and that seemed to make them all the more menacing.
“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Aidan challenged, voice shaky. “Rip my throat out?”
Zander smiled. “That would end the fun all too quickly.”
“Way too quickly,” agreed Marlon.
Aidan looked from one male to the other. “I only came here to help her.”
“You don’t want to help her,” said Zander. “I doubt that you ever did. No, I think you get off on making women dependent on you—and I think you should note that that is just plain fucked-up. You should also note that if you come back here, you won’t leave unharmed.”
The therapist’s fear was clear to see. “You can’t threaten me.”
“I can and I did.” Zander went nose to nose with Aidan. “In sum, you’ll stay away from Gwen. You’ll stop passing messages through her sister. And you’ll get it out of your fucking head that Gwen could ever be yours. In fact, don’t even think about her at all. We clear?”
Drawing himself up straight, Aidan licked his lips. “I have places to be.”
“That’s good. Bracken will walk you to your car.”
Aidan’s brow furrowed. “Who?”
“That would be me,” said Bracken, standing directly behind him. Aidan whirled with a sound of alarm, and Bracken gave him a shark’s grin. “Jumpy little thing, aren’t you? I’ve been here for a while. You didn’t know I was there? Hmm. Well, lead the way to your car.” Before Aidan could object, Bracken shepherded him to the Audi by the scruff of his neck. “Here, let me get your door for you.” He sharply yanked it open, making it smack Aidan right in the face. “Shit, sorry about that. Sometimes, I forget my own strength.”
Hand covering his face, Aidan slid into his car. “I’m fine.”
“You have a good day now.” Bracken slammed the door shut, waving with a smile as the therapist drove off.
“Huh,” said Marlon, eyeing the wolves. “Looks like you two might be useful to have around, after all. I have to admit, I wasn’t so sure. I want to be as convinced as Yvonne that you’ll see this through to the end.”
“We’ll be here until the entire issue has been fully resolved,” Zander firmly stated. “Our Alphas won’t call us home, if for no other reason than that a fellow shifter was assaulted and deserves justice.” Nick might wish he could summon them back to pack territory, but Shaya would fight him on it. Her soft heart wouldn’t allow her to ignore Gwen or Andie’s plight.
After a long moment, Marlon nodded. “Fair enough.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, Gwen turned to the wolves. “Let’s take the groceries inside. Then I think it’s time for you both to meet Andie.”
Zander stayed beside Gwen as she expertly navigated the boat along the murky river, avoiding shrubs, logs, tall stalks, and old beaver dams. It was obvious that she’d done it dozens of times.
Despite the sun beating at his skin, Zander found himself lulled by the sounds of the boat motor, the flapping of wings as birds dove at the water, and the various wildlife scurrying through the high grass.
The marsh might not be what anyone would term colorful, but it was still scenic and peaceful. It was also thriving with wildlife. When he’d explored the marsh, his wolf had picked up the scents of many animals—foxes, otters, beavers, raccoons, mink, and deer, to name a few. His wolf had enjoyed playfully chasing some of them.
As a bird swooped down and caught a fish, a light spray of water hit Zander. “I’ve never seen so many types of birds in one place.” Ducks, geese, herons, kingfishers, hawks—the list went on.
“Well, there’s a whole lot of insects and fish for them to feed on,” she said. “You don’t like birds?”
“I like them just fine.” It was the insects that he didn’t like, especially the dragonflies flitting through the reeds. They looked like they’d been taking steroids or something.
Hearing Bracken chuckle from the other end of the boat, Zander looked to see that his attention was on his cell phone. He guessed that Bracken was texting Shiloh again only to receive yet more insults. Zander wondered if the female knew she wasn’t discouraging the male whatsoever.
Taking advantage of the alone time that gave him with Gwen, Zander quietly asked, “What did that fucker Aidan mean when he said this must be like reliving your childhood?”
“How did I know you’d bring that up?” she muttered drily. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Baby, I just heard you had one shitty childhood. Going by the things that asshole said, I’m guessing that one or both of your parents were violent and that you were forced to keep your mouth shut about it. I’m fucking pissed that that happened to you.” It would surely leave any child feeling helpless, terrified, and unsafe. “And I can’t help but wonder just how bad it was—my imagination is coming up with all kinds of shit. Give me something.”
Startled that he’d actually care one way or the other, Gwen threw him a sideways glance. “I had a shitty start to life, yes, but so did lots of people—it doesn’t make me anything special. It’s over now; it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters to me.”
Gwen doubted that. Shifters liked casual sex; they liked to keep it simple. It was more likely that his natural curiosity was bugging him, she decided. In any case . . . “Zander, as someone with extensive boundaries, you should be able to accept when another person doesn’t want to share their personal business.”
Zander couldn’t deny that she was right. He should back off, give her the emotional space she was asking for, but instead, he found himself saying, “My mother abused my father. Not physically, but emotionally. She was much more dominant than he was, and she used that strength to subdue and control him. She did it right up until the day she died—or so I heard, anyway. I hadn’t spoken to them in years.” He raised an expectant brow. “Now it’s your turn.”
The determined look on his face told her he wasn’t going to drop this. Gwen inwardly cursed. If she told him about her biological father, she was pretty sure he’d look at her differently. No, she’d keep that part to herself, but she could at least tell him a little something. “My stepfather liked to drink, but that wasn’t why he hit my mother. Drunk, sober—it didn’t matter. Hanna didn’t cower when he yelled. She stood up to him, argued with him. But the moment he hit her, she just crumbled. I often wondered if she wanted him to hit her.” Why else would she have provoked him? “Over time, the beatings got worse. A lot worse. But even then, she forced me not to tell. She told me she’d lie to protect him if I did.”
And then Zander got it. He understood exactly why she was so set on speaking up for Andie. As a child, she’d been unable to stand up for her mother—most likely also forced to lie and make excuses to anyone who asked about it. Now, as an adult, she wasn’t backing down while someone needed help she could provide. “How did you end up in foster care?”
“That’s as much as you’re getting out of me today.” She jerked her head back a little as a mosquito came too close. “Why don’t you tell me why you and Bracken came all the way to Oregon? I doubt it was to test if the house is haunted. But if it’s personal, just say so.”
“I told you, my uncle died recently.” A slight breeze brushed over Zander, giving him a reprieve from the harsh glare of the sun. “He wanted the beneficiaries to meet at his attorney’s office for the reading of the will. That’s where Bracken and I went yesterday.”
Zander wasn’t entirely surprised when she didn’t ask how it went. She’d successfully changed the subject, which was clearly all she’d hoped to do. “You’re an expert at dodging personal topics, aren’t you, Gwen?”
“Yep. Believe me, Zander, my story isn’t interesting.”
“I’m not asking because I think I’ll find it interesting; I’m asking because it’s you.”
She flicked him a confused look, noticing he was purely focused on her in a way that only a shifter could center their attention on someone. “Is this because you marked me? You feel the need to know everything about a person you mark?”
She didn’t get why he’d care. He didn’t know her. He’d claimed to respect her, sure, but she respected plenty of people—that didn’t mean she had an urge to learn their personal business. In any case, she couldn’t tell him more about her background. There were too many things that it was best he didn’t know. It wasn’t like they were in a relationship where they needed to get to know each other anyway, was it? He’d go back to his pack after the hearing.
Zander closed the gap between them and gently fisted her braid, but she didn’t look at him. There was tension in every line of her body. “Baby, why is it so hard to believe I simply want to know you? Why does there have to be some sort of technical reason behind it? I told you in the grocery store, I like what I know about you. I want to know more.”
She kept her gaze firmly ahead. “You don’t need to know more.”
“Never said I needed to. I said I wanted to. But maybe your mother trained you so well to keep secrets that you instinctively shy away from people who try to get close.” She inhaled sharply. “Not trying to hurt you, Gwen. Just want you to ask yourself if you’re so highly private for the wrong reasons.” Noticing they were nearing a dock, Zander whistled at Bracken. “Almost there.”
Tucking his cell in his pocket, Bracken sidled up to Zander. He must have sensed Gwen’s tension, because he frowned. “Everything okay here?”
“Fine.” She slowed the boat and steered it toward the dock, wincing at the grating sounds of reeds scraping along the side of the boat. Once she’d parked and anchored it, she said, “Let’s go.”
Nobody spoke as she led them across the marshland, but they didn’t move in silence, thanks to the sucking sounds of their boots traipsing through the mud.
She hadn’t introduced the wolves to Andie before now for two reasons. One, she’d needed to see that they were trustworthy. Two, she’d wanted to be sure they’d stick around—and that they’d be truly helpful if they did. If the way they’d dealt with Aidan was anything to go by, they would be . . . even if Zander was a nosy bastard.
Reaching the trees bordering their land, she led the wolves through the woods. Finally, a simple cabin came into view. Donnie had used it as a decoy to fool the mysterious they into thinking it was his home. Since Gwen doubted there was anyone actually searching for Donnie, she figured Andie was safe enough there.
As they neared the cabin, Bracken broke the silence. “The cougar’s been staying here?”
“It was her choice,” said Gwen. “She didn’t want to stay at the house.” Urging them to halt, she asked, “Is she inside?” As shifters, their hearing would be advanced enough to sense any movement.
“No,” replied Zander. “But she’s close. I can scent her.”
“Then we wait,” said Gwen.
It was mere moments before a cougar appeared—golden, graceful, with big, intelligent brown eyes. She gave them a snarl of warning before entering the cabin. Soon enough, Andie hesitantly came out in her human form, wearing jeans and a tee.
“Hey,” said Gwen, “how much do you know of what’s been going on lately?” Because Gwen was pretty sure that Andie would have kept a close watch, especially since she didn’t look startled to see either Zander or Bracken. She did appear slightly nervous, though. That might have been why the wolves seemed to be making a conscious effort to appear relaxed and nonconfrontational—their stances open, their hands hanging loosely at their sides.
“I heard plenty,” Andie replied, scratching her arm in a fidgety movement. She looked at Zander. “I saw you chase off Ezra. You and your pack mate want to help.”
“Did you hear me tell Gwen about the shelter?” Bracken asked, his tone calm and easy. She shook her head, and he then asked, “You ever heard of the Phoenix Pack?”
“No.”
“They’re good people,” Zander told her. “One of their wolves, Makenna, used to be a lone wolf and helps run a shelter for lone shifters. They’re given protection, food, a roof over their heads, counseling, and any education they might need. Then, when they’re ready, Makenna rehomes them. You could stay there rather than hiding out here. You’d even be welcome to stay there once this shit is over.”
Andie squinted. “Surely if such shelters existed, I’d have heard of them.”
“From what I understand, there aren’t many,” Zander told her. “That’s probably why I hadn’t heard of them either.”
“You’d be in a place filled with people just like you, and you’d be safe,” said Bracken. “The place is secure, and the Moores wouldn’t think to look for you there anyway. I don’t mean to scare you, but it’s only a matter of time before they come searching the marsh, hoping you’re here. You could run, sure. But where?”
Andie scraped a hand through her short red hair. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know I can’t keep living like this. But I don’t know how to be part of a pride. I was raised by humans—they adopted me without knowing I was a shifter, but they kept me.”
Bracken shrugged. “A lot of loners at the shelter want to live among humans. Makenna helps them find a residence of their own, along with a job.”
She looked from Zander to Bracken. “I’m nobody to you. Why care?”
“We learned that not all lone shifters are bad,” said Bracken. “In fact, our pack adopted a little girl from the shelter.”
Andie blinked. “You . . . adopted a loner?”
Bracken nodded. “The Phoenix Alphas gave Makenna and four other loners a place in their pack.”
Her eyes widened. “Four?”
“Only one of them was related to a Phoenix wolf. The other three were strangers, and each had a shitty story of their own, but they were offered a place there.” Bracken tilted his head. “The shifter who runs the shelter is a cougar, if that makes you feel more comfortable.”
Andie bit her lip, still uneasy.
“I get that you have no reason to trust us,” began Zander, “but what do you have to lose at this point? If you want the truth, my main reason for proposing you go there is that I’m hoping that, with time and space, you’ll find the strength to go before the council and speak up for yourself. You should. You deserve justice. And I don’t want Gwen doing it alone.”
Andie’s hands balled up. “I told her she should just back down.”
“I won’t let Brandt get away with what he did,” Gwen declared. “I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”
Sighing, Andie rubbed her temple. “I need some time to think about it.”
Zander inclined his head. “Take a few days to consider our offer. Come by the house when you’ve decided.”
At Andie’s nod, Gwen threw her a supportive smile. “You know where I am if you need anything.” With that, they returned to the boat.