Morgan Palatine loosened the tie cinched around his neck. Weeks of wearing business suits made him feel as if he were being strangled by the thin strip of silk fabric. He felt confined. Confined by the tailored fabric he wore, confined by the human skin he walked around in.

He rolled his shoulders trying to release the tension that had been building for hours in the thick muscles along his neck and back. He could go months without shifting, but the past few weeks made it feel like years. He was not meant to spend his time in a leather chair at the head of a boardroom conference table. Morgan preferred to be hands-on, literally, when it came to work. He wanted steel-toed boots and rolled-up sleeves. What he really wanted right now was the freedom to be himself, this skin or fur.

A quick shift and a good hard run were his plans for as soon as he got home.

Home. His own bed.

That was it. That’s what he needed to do. He needed to step up the diplomacy games and open his family home, Mission Run, to the Aventine family. Invite them to spend the weekend in the hills, give them the opportunity to shift and relax. Maybe then their alpha would chill, and realize that this pissing contest was not necessary. The old guard had moved on, Morgan was not interested in maintaining a family feud or continuing a centuries old grudge match.

There were few enough of their kind in the world, and they were well hidden, even from each other. It made more sense to be on friendly terms with the Aventines. Morgan was more than ready to shake hands and call it good, but the Aventine alpha, Blackston, and Morgan’s sister Julia both seemed to think this accord needed to be full of legalese and have a consensus on the terms.

No, this was good. He would bring it up with Jinx in the morning. His household manager would know how to handle the situation. It wouldn’t take much to fit the entire Aventine contingent in. Only a few of them had transferred to the Bay Area, and most of them were really only here for negotiating terms of this accord. Nancy Aventine, Blackston’s wife would probably appreciate a nice weekend in wine country. She was the reason they were in California after all. Her illness brought her to the Stanford Medical Center.

Not that the Palatines were particularly territorial. It was mostly a formality, allowing the Aventine alpha and his mate to live in the region, and to prevent petty issues from snowballing.

Wolves liked to have space between themselves and the next family. Of course, the Aventines weren’t just any other wolf family. There had been a special level of distrust and hate between them and the Palatines. The deep down anger of sibling rivalry gone too far for too long.

Yes, a weekend out of the city, a weekend where everyone could relax and drink good wine was just what the doctor ordered. Aventine’s son, Roman, seemed like a decent enough guy, even if he was focused entirely too much on business, just like Julia. This would give everyone a chance to get to know one another in a relaxed more intimate setting.

Morgan barely registered the click click click of someone in heeled shoes walking quickly, as he continued his slow walk towards the parking garage. He should have hired a driver for the week. He should have gotten a hotel. He should have done too many damned things.

The stench of pot and body odor assaulted his senses. He would have ignored the kids if he hadn’t picked up something one of the punks had just said. Lone woman. Street kids. Not a good combination.

Morgan straightened his posture as he tuned his senses into the situation at hand.

He turned around and headed back to where he thought he’d heard the click of heeled footsteps heading. He turned another corner.

“You little turd! Give me back my purse!” he heard a woman shout. Heavy running footsteps headed in the opposite direction.

Morgan took off after the purse snatchers and then he heard her scream.

He backtracked, catching a glimpse of motion disappearing into a walkway off the street.

He turned a corner and saw a woman with short black hair pressed against the brick wall, a large knife held in front of her face. The assailant had apparently taken advantage of her distraction when the potheads ran off with her bag. Looked like this guy wanted more from his victim than just her handbag.

Morgan didn’t hesitate. In a single swift motion, he pulled the attacker from the woman and tossed him down the walkway. The man crashed into a group of garbage cans.

The assailant began to get up. “What the fuck? I’ll kill you for that.”

The woman was on him, and in a few well-placed kicks and a knee to the nose, he was knocked out.

Morgan stepped back in appreciation of her skills. He opened his senses to see if there was more to her than met the eye. He had a hard time picking anything up from her. She wasn’t one of his, and not human either, nor vampire. Only daywalkers messed with his senses this way.

Morgan watched as she brushed down her dress and smoothed her short hair into place.

“You really didn’t need my help there, did you?” he asked.

“I would have figured it out eventually.” Her accent hinted at origins in South America. “But your assistance was most fortuitous.”

Morgan noticed long fingernails pointed like claws painted vibrant red as he engulfed her hand in his own. “Cyan del Fuego. And you are?” She raked him with a gaze that said I know what you are but not who you are

“Morgan Palatine, Ms. del Fuego. You really didn’t need my protection.” he said, recognizing her name. Cyan del Fuego, daughter of the local Del Fuego coven lord and head of Cyan Group, a potential client Morgan had been trying to contract with.

Cyan chuckled. “Against humans no. May I borrow your cell phone? Mine was in my purse that…” she nodded over her shoulder indicating the unconscious man behind them “…this idiot prevented me from retrieving.”

Morgan held up his hand, asking for a moment. He turned and picked her bag up from the entrance to the walkway where he had dropped it. “I managed to snatch this back for you.” He handed her the handbag.

“Why, thank you.” She linked her arm through his. “Now, Morgan Palatine, walk me back to my car and tell me why your name is so familiar. And not just because you’re the local alpha.”