Because you’re mine.

The three words had tumbled through Rachel’s mind the remainder of the night, and into the next morning as she tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed. Her thoughts had whirled for hours after plopping onto the uncomfortable mattress and sleep had been long in coming.

Because you’re mine.

Grant hadn’t wanted to sleep alone. He’d growled and grumbled when she’d hopped into bed and then snuggled and hugged the blanket around her body. He’d practically snarled when she kicked him out of the room.

Because you’re mine.

Wolves only made a claim like that for one reason…

Because you’re mine.

She didn’t want to believe his words. She was a college dropout, no-longer-pre-law student and sub-standard secretary. He was… Grant Hemming, President of Hemming Industries, had a bank account with an insane amount of zeroes, and was Alpha of the Hemming Pack.

Had she ever tapped into her abilities as a watcher, hell, accepted her position as watcher, she would have known to run far and fast from Hemming Industries.

Super far. Like, China.

Because you’re mine.

Grant had to have been teasing, trying to lure her into bed for a little bow-chicka-bow-bow to make her more malleable. Hell, it probably would have been a little “thank you” for helping him out with the pack.

There. Now that she’d figured it out, she didn’t feel quite so spastic.

It was a pity flirtation.

A heavy knock on the bedroom door yanked her from her thoughts, and the portal swung open on silent hinges.

The man hadn’t even asked before barging in.

“You’re awake.” His feet made barely a sound as he padded across the room, coffee mug in hand.

She forgave him. He came with coffee, after all. It was morning. Well, evening, actually. The sun was dipping toward the horizon in a glorious sunset. She’d been up all night with that damned contract and the books Great Aunt Petunia had sent over. The wrinkly old gal still had some magic in her. While the woman wasn’t a Marrok descendant and couldn’t help Rachel conjure the original agreement, she had been able to send the journals over with a magical poof.

Arms extended, she reached for the steaming mug at his approach, not caring if it was black or loaded down with cream and sugar. It was coffee!

Fingers within inches of the ceramic mug, she watched as it was snatched from her near-grasp and held aside, just out of reach.

“Hey!”

Attention diverted by her lack of caffeinated goodness, Grant leaned in and then his lips were on hers.

Rachel couldn’t do a thing about it. Not that she particularly wanted to stop him.

No, his lips were as soft as she remembered, tongue just as warm as he lapped at her mouth, and teeth just as maddening when he nibbled her flesh.

His kiss was breathtaking and seductive, sweet and passionate, and way, way too addictive. He enticed her with delicate sweeps of his tongue, beguiled her with the heated flavors of his mouth and outright made her shudder with need.

The man, the wolf, was dangerous.

And she liked it.

Rachel forgot that he was using her, probably more than a little, and embraced his passion, matched him stroke for stroke, moan for moan. Her pussy ached, needy and pissed as hell that she hadn’t finished what they’d started before bed. Her nipples ached, hardened into tight nubs and silently begged for his hands, his mouth.

She wanted him. Now.

But, apparently, fate had other ideas.

The muffled thump of the mug striking the floor yanked them apart while Grant cursed and shook his hand.

Dazed from the abrupt end of their kiss, she looked over to find the steaming coffee not only coating the carpet, but his forearm, as well. His tanned skin was flushed red, and she could only imagine the heat coating him. But, just like that, the crimson flesh lightened to a pale pink and then returned to its normal, healthy hue.

Like magic.

Or, a werewolf.

Which brought her right back to the crux of the matter.

Because you’re mine.

Breathing heavily, Grant bent to grab the mug and then straightened, his gaze intent on her. The wolf looked out at her from behind his human eyes, and she fought the shiver of… What? Desire? Fear? No, need. Her body craved the man and the beast alike.

Damn it.

She wanted love, marriage and babies like everyone else. She didn’t want them to come in the form of a werewolf whose pack would probably debate on whether to make her prey during a hunt or simply kill her outright. And what would happen to the part-witchy children, er, pups?

Arousal deflated in an instant. “Grant—”

Something in her expression had to have tipped him off because his shoulders slumped. “We’re going to be late for our meeting.”

Her eyes practically popped out of her head. “You know they’ll try to kill you.”

“And they’re welcome to try when I’m surrounded by my sentinels. We know they’re not honorable, so I have no problem bringing along some of the pack and killing anyone who tries to harm me and mine.” He shook his head. “They already tried to take what’s mine once. I’ll be damned if they get the opportunity to make another attempt.”

“But—”

“There are some clothes and shoes in the closet that’ll fit better than what you wore to bed. We’ve got a range of sizes.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Since this is a wolf safe-house, I doubt you’ll have something for me. Wolves aren’t exactly fluffy-esque people.”

Grant struck like a snake, one minute he stood aloof and the next he was bent over her, hand gently fisting her hair and forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You are beautiful. Perfect. Your curves practically have me drooling, and I won’t let you say anything bad about yourself. You’re gorgeous inside and out, Rachel.”

The conviction with which he said the words compelled her to believe him and had her heart opening the tiniest bit to this fierce Alpha.

He brushed his lips across hers in a chaste kiss and then he was gone, the coffee stains on the carpet the only evidence of his presence.

Because you’re mine.

The words didn’t worry her as much as they should. Not anymore.

* * *

An hour later, those words carried Rachel through the tense meeting with Grant’s sentinels as he gave them the bare bones version of events. Sans Rachel’s witchdom, of course. Those words snuggled her when she was locked within the confines of a Hemming Industries SUV surrounded by wolves. They held her close when she stepped from the vehicle and onto a barren swath of land.

Grant’s eight sentinels surrounded them as they moved forward, Hagan included since he’d easily recovered from his vamp-inflicted flesh wounds. The attackers hadn’t hit anything important, just his shoulder, bicep and thigh. His body had healed the “paltry” holes in no time.

As a group, they moved forward with Grant at her side while they walked within the circle of wolves.

Additional SUVs sat opposite them, and several people, vampires, stepped from them at their approach. Five total. Four men and a single woman emerged, all impeccably dressed in what she assumed were custom tailored suits.

The lone female walked ahead of the men, confidence pouring off of her in waves, and Rachel figured this was the one pulling the strings. When ten feet separated them, the wolves before Rachel and Grant parted to give her a better look at the clan’s leader.

“Alpha Hemming, I assume you have an explanation for these…men. The original agreement decrees that the leaders would arrive with an entourage of no more than four. I came here in good faith to discuss the contract, at your request, and then you bring…” The woman’s gaze enveloped the area and her ice blue eyes flashed red for the barest of moments. “Your beasts.”

Rachel hated her on sight. The vampire couldn’t simply insult her pack, her—

No, she hadn’t accepted Grant’s pronouncement. He was using her. Period. She wasn’t pack.

From head to toe, the vampire oozed beautiful sensuality. Her suit hugged her trim curves and her features could easily entice a man to launch a thousand ships.

She was also the leader, Sophia. Grant had warned her that she was a pretty little bitch and the most dangerous in the clan. Rachel could believe it.

“And I appreciate your willingness to meet here on neutral ground. My sentinels are simply here to ensure my health. I’m sure you’ve heard about last night’s unfortunate incident. I didn’t want any of your rebellious young vampires attempting to disrupt us this morning.” The wolf oozed with charm and Rachel had to bite her tongue to withhold her laughter. She knew his only desire was to wipe the appearance of innocence from the vampire’s features. “It’s so hard to keep a leash on the babies.”

“Oh, my. Yes, I suppose some of the younger ones don’t care for our business, but it is not their place. If you’ll turn them over, I will see to their punishment.”

From the corner of her eye, Rachel watched Grant give the vamp a fake smile. “That’s unnecessary. I handled two myself and, Hagan, I believe you took care of the third?”

The other wolf’s deep, rumbling voice filled the quiet space. “Yes, Alpha. The cleaning staff arrived early this morning to remove the ashes from your office.”

Rachel could feel the smug satisfaction rolling from Grant, but it was quickly countered by the freezing gaze of Sophia.

The woman’s lips formed a tight smile. “I see.”

Seeming to shake her anger, she turned that near-frown to a blazing smile and moved toward them until a low growl had her freezing.

“I’m sorry, Sophia, but in light of certain events, it’d be best we kept our distance as we work through this bit of unpleasantness.”

Rachel almost snorted. Unpleasantness was one way to put it.

“Unpleasantness? Surely, Grant—”

“Alpha Hemming,” he corrected smoothly.

Sophia tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Alpha Hemming, we’ve been contracted with the Hemming pack for centuries. I see no reason for that to change. Your father—”

“Is dead.” The wolf’s voice was flat, but Rachel could sense the anger and pain that coursed through him. They’d discussed their theories, the idea that both their parents had been killed by the vamps to protect the knowledge of the original agreement. They just had no proof. “I lead the pack and I won’t sign until it is discussed.”

“Your father—” The vampire tried again, her body seeming to vibrate with tension.

“I’ll say it again, Sophia, he’s gone. I make decisions for the pack and this won’t be settled until you accept my verdict.” Grant’s voice left no room for argument and even Rachel could feel the dominant power rolling off him. Hell, the order wasn’t directed at her, and she sure as hell wasn’t a wolf, but Rachel ached to make him happy.

The vampire harrumphed, but conceded as demanded. Because it was a demand. Grant held the power, whether the beautiful bitch accepted it or not.

With the other vampires fanned behind her, Sophia stared at their group, a look of feigned boredom in her features.

Gazing at the local clan’s leader, her undead eyes, a shiver of fear slid down Rachel’s spine. She was about to make an enemy. For life. Probably more than one depending on the wolves. But she wasn’t about to back down. She didn’t doubt that the woman before her, or others that ruled in the past, were responsible for her parents’ deaths.

Grant slipped his hand into his jacket and withdrew the sheaf of papers they’d been pouring over so diligently. “I have a few questions, Sophia—”

“I would have thought your attorneys would have answered your—”

“Quiet.” The power of his voice bulldozed its way across the empty space, and Rachel saw Sophia visibly shudder. “My questions are for you.” He turned to the page Rachel had highlighted. “It seems that the pack will be required to pay one billion dollars per anum.”

“It’s reasonable.”

“And the clan is asking for a thirty percent stake in Hemming Industries.”

Sophia nodded. “Again, reasonable. It would partner Lucre International and Hemming Industries. It’d be mutually beneficial.”

“Hmm…” The page was tossed aside as he proceeded to the next. “And in the event that the clan finds me unfit to lead, a replacement would be elected. Someone who could be either pack or clan. Is that my understanding?”

Low, rolling growls echoed across the space. They’d decided not to impart that tidbit on the sentinels prior to the meeting. Rachel’s heart rate picked up, and tendrils of fear slithered through her body as droplets of sweat formed on her brow. She had no doubt that the wolf beside her could detect the scent, but there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about its presence.

“We can’t have the territory—”

“I’m not finished.” Grant’s voice was low, controlled. “I understand your terms.” He nodded and let the remaining pages drift to the grass. “What I don’t understand is how you could think to make demands of the Hamr pack.”

They’d discussed this, the deliberate use of the old name. The wolves surrounding them were young, only a few centuries old, but the vamps were much, much older. And, based on the stiffening of Sophia’s guards, better informed.

“You see, this is not your territory as you would like all to believe. It is mine. We are not here on your good graces. Farleifr is here on mine. The original agreement is at an end, Sophia. I know it. You know it. And, I suspect that my father was aware as well. You have twenty-four hours.”

Spitting mad, eyes glowing red, the vampire flashed her fangs. “You are misinformed, dog. This place has always belonged to the clan and it always will. Who has spilled lies into your ears?” It felt as if Rachel’s heart would burst from her chest at any moment, but she stood fast. “Did your little witch whisper to you? You know wolves can’t trust the witches, puppy.”

Nothing but strength flowed from Grant. Even when his wolves flashed her amber-tinged looks of disgust, the wolf beside her didn’t give an inch.

“Sophia, I don’t believe you’ve met Rachel. May I introduce Rachel Marrok? She is the last surviving member of the Marrok watchers. I believe you’re fifteen hundred or so. You remember the Marroks, don’t you, Sophia? I believe you knew her parents, no?” Silence met his words, but Sophia’s face darkened to burgundy. “And I believe Miss Marrok has something for us.”

Refusing to lower her guard for a moment, Rachel recited the necessary words while keeping her gaze on the deadly vampire. “Once then, now again, with history and with present, the Marrok take.” She pushed and pulled at her unused power and shoved her compulsion into her next words, focusing on the document she needed, calling it from the ether. She drew it from its hiding place, the notes in her parents’ journals guiding her thoughts. “And the Marrok return.”

The power felt as if scurrying ants covered her from head to foot, millions of tiny pricks skating over her skin, and then the heavily aged scroll appeared in her hands. Darkened with time, the words were still visible on the ancient surface, the protection spell woven into its threads still firmly in place. But most of all, the original signatures were plainly visible.

With tired, shaking fingers, Rachel handed over the page, exhaustion settling into her bones. She’d never taken advantage of her legacy in all of her twenty-five years, never tried to do anything but that single spell that hid her from sight. Magic, evidently, was freakishly hard.

She saw a flash of concern cross Grant’s features, but it was quickly hidden by an indifferent mask. She almost flinched at the abrupt change but forced her doubts aside. He couldn’t show worry for her, not if she was to get out of the meeting alive.

Rachel was a walking, talking vulnerability.

Grant perused the document a moment, his eyes landing on the signatures and then he tossed the page across the space that separated them from the furious vampire. Rachel tracked its progress as it danced in the air.

“As you can see, Sophia, both Egil Farleifr and Gudmundr Hamr signed the agreement. Egil was your sire, no?”

Clawed hands reached for the page, and the vampire had the temerity to attempt to tear the delicate paper.

Rachel shook her head. “The Marroks aren’t that stupid, Sophia. Never have been. That scroll will survive for eternity.” She leveled her gaze on the seething woman.

“Unless all of the Marroks perish. And then it’s gone,” Sophia snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

The pure hatred that coated the vampire’s features sent a bolt of dread through her, but she stood tall. The Marrok power wasn’t tied to a single person, but came from the earth, so unless the woman was planning on blowing up the world, the scroll was staying.

Rachel wouldn’t let the fangy bitch intimidate her. Not when she had Grant at her side, not when—

“Kill them.”