Sophia strode down the path to Lilah and Gavin’s cabin, her dark hair whipping around her face. It was barely evening, but the sun had already set. She tripped over a solar-powered lamp on the path and kept going.

How could he doubt her? After everything she’d done for him? After what they’d shared? How dare he?

One moment his eyes are declaring his love and their hearts are singing together, the next he accuses her of playing with his feelings! She’s trapped in the current with him, being swept into terrifying, dangerous places where the past doesn’t exist, everything she thought she wanted is obliterated, the future won’t take no for an answer—and she’s the one playing a game?

She could kill him. And then grieve in torment for him for the rest of her life.

With a growl, she picked up a fallen log and hurled it against a stone, smashing it into pieces.

Their lovemaking had overwhelmed her with sensations she’d never forget for the rest of her life, a sense of completeness, magic, and fate, and she knew he’d felt the same. Until this week, she’d dismissed the idea of being a mother. Sophia Stanton wasn’t the type. But now it was all she could think about. To stop wanting it would be to stop wanting her next breath.

Oh my God, I have Baby Fever. Even she wasn’t strong enough to fight the most tireless and demanding of all shifter instincts. To mate. To breed. Now.

She’d never, ever asked for this. But fate didn’t care.

How dare he question her sincerity?

She stormed through the dark woods, time forgotten, demanding an explanation from the universe. She hadn’t asked for the Beat, for love, for him. More logs became splinters. Startled birds flew into the sky. And then her anger drained away, leaving a much more difficult feeling, and she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

How could he doubt her after what they’d shared?

The answer finally came to her when she caught a glimpse of the lake, shimmering faintly under a rising moon, through the trees and the saddle of mountains beyond. She took a moment to stop, feel a crisp breeze on her face, and breathe.

And, reluctantly, understand. He was afraid. He was scared shitless. So was she, in a way, but she wasn’t also experiencing the trauma of becoming a shifter after a lifetime as a human and then being held captive by the family of his beloved while he adapted to his change.

Beloved. He hadn’t said he loved her, but she knew he did. She had heard his thoughts and felt his entire being blend—just for an instant—with hers. He loved her. They had both heard the Beat. She wasn’t fooling herself. She had to believe that.

He wasn’t born a shifter. He wasn’t raised as one. In fact, he’d only learned of their existence recently. He had no idea what it meant to feel the Beat, let alone understand how ruthless shifter biology was about the urge to mate—especially for females. Especially female bear shifters who had never experienced it before. Although she felt as if they were going too slow and was starving to have everything now, he was new to their world. New to his own body.

She would have to give him time. What choice did she have? Her heart was his. And her future baby…

Would also be his.

Mine. His. Hers. Each beat of their hearts was a link in a chain, bringing them closer together, holding them, securing them for the rest of their lives.

God, I hope so.

She stopped by her own house to clean up and gather her wits. Upstairs in her bathroom, she gasped when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She looked worse than she’d feared. Her cheeks were pink, slightly sore from rubbing against Zach’s whiskers. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were dazed from the journey they’d taken together and red from tears she’d cried, fearing he wasn’t ready to continue the rest of the way.

And might never be ready.

Let go, Zach. Let it happen.

He didn’t trust her yet, but he had to. He would. She had to trust fate.

She washed, dressed, and walked to Lilah and Gavin’s house. When she got there, the door was open, every lamp blazing with light, and she heard several women’s voices upstairs. She hurried to join them.

Propped up with pillows, Lilah rested with Jess and Molly in a large bedroom facing the lake. Outside the window, lights from the main house twinkled through the trees. Appearing to be freshly showered, Lilah looked energetic and happy, her hair hanging in damp ringlets around her shoulders.

“Sophia! Did you see my babies?” Lilah asked, pointing in opposite directions at two bundles, one in Jess’s arms, the other in Molly’s.

Sophia fought down a resurgence of her anger with Zach. She wanted to be happy for Lilah and Gavin—she was happy—but a vulnerable spot inside her worried she would never have this happiness for herself.

“Of course she saw them,” Jess said. “She helped deliver them!”

“Of course she did,” Lilah said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not that out of it.”

“Sure you are,” Jess said, “but that’s totally OK. You just squeezed two new lives out of your body.” She made kissing noises to the bundle in her arms.

“Grab something to eat,” Lilah said, pointing at a table set up near the door, heavy with platters of food. “Everyone missed lunch. Please enjoy.”

Sophia, who had missed breakfast and lunch and would normally be starving this time of year, glanced at the food with disinterest. If it wasn’t on Zach’s fork, she wasn’t hungry.

“Which baby do you have, Jess?” Sophia asked.

“The boy,” Jess said with a smile. “Tobias, after Gavin’s father.” She gave a slightly bemused look. “And yours, of course. He just ate and looks very pleased with himself.”

Molly piped up. “I have Cordelia, and I think she’s the smartest little baby I’ve ever seen. She looks right at you. I swear to God she’s a genius.”

“Like her brother,” Jess said.

“I’m sure you’re both right.” Sophia went over to Lilah in the bed and bent down for a loose hug. Then she leaned back and held Lilah by the shoulders, searching her face. “How do you feel?” It had been terrifying at the birth, feeling the life inside Lilah struggling and then the mother’s own agony.

“I’m great. You guys don’t have to treat me like this. I’ve got tons of energy. I know I should be tired, but I’m not.” Laughing, Lilah reached out for a huge plastic tumbler and brought the straw to her mouth. “Gavin wouldn’t leave me alone. I finally sent him away so I could enjoy myself for a few minutes.”

“I had no idea babies smelled so good,” Molly said. “And did you see her tiny toenails? They’re the cutest thing I ever saw.”

Sophia moved over to Molly, wondering how long she’d have to wait for her turn to hold Cordelia. Maybe she could claim a professional need to check the baby’s health.

Lilah held out her arms to Jess, indicating she wanted Tobias back.

“I can’t imagine how many gifts Derry is going to lavish on this little guy,” Jess said, standing up to bring the baby to his mother. “And Cordelia, too. He’s going to go crazy, spoiling both of them.”

Lilah took her son and put a hand on Jess’s arm. “I’m so sorry you cut your honeymoon short because of me. You guys weren’t in Hawaii even long enough to get jet lag!”

With her arms already extended to pluck the baby girl out of Molly’s arms, Sophia froze. “Excuse me? Honeymoon?”

Lilah slapped her free hand over her mouth. Eyes widening with agony, she shook her head.

“Way to spoil the moment, Lilah,” Jess said, laughing. Then she turned to Sophia, her smile faltering. “We were going to tell you as soon as we arrived, but Lilah—”

“Tell me? Honeymoon? You— You and Derry—” Sophia sank into a chair.

Derry and Jess, too? Would everyone have all the happiness and leave none for her?

Sophia silently chided herself for her unbecoming jealousy. She’d been through too much, and she wasn’t herself. Derry’s happiness was her happiness. Damn it.

Jess knelt at Sophia’s feet and took her hand. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you as soon as you walked in the door, but I was distracted by the babies and… I thought Derry would want to be here.”

“You’re… married?”

Jess nodded. “We eloped in Hawaii.” A grin split her face. “We just couldn’t wait. And there was so much going on, and we didn’t want to add to the drama.”

“But mostly Derry just couldn’t wait,” Sophia said. “You don’t have to explain. He never did have any patience. Delayed gratification has never been part of his vocabulary.” She held out her arms and smiled as Jess flung herself into them. Her jealousy vanished under an onslaught of love.

“We’re sisters!” Jess said, holding on and squeezing. “It’s official.”

Reflecting on what she had been going through with Zach, Sophia thought that Jess and Derry had formed their most important bond already, when they embraced the Beat that had drawn them to each other. “If he doesn’t treat you like a queen, I’ll kill him,” Sophia said. “But I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Let’s not talk about killing him yet,” Jess said, standing up. “We’ve only been married thirty-six hours.”

Something tickled Sophia’s cheek. When she reached up to wipe it away, she realized it was a tear. Her twin had bonded with another. Their lives would never be the same. But she wasn’t losing a brother, she was gaining a sister. After years of Derry’s womanizing, she’d never expected such a gift.

“Congratulations,” Sophia said, her voice cracking. “Welcome—welcome to the family.”

“Oh God.” Jess gave her another hug. “I’m going to get dehydrated from crying so much.”

Lilah held up her giant cup with the straw sticking out. “At least you’re not breastfeeding twins. I can’t imagine how I’m going to make enough to feed these two.”

Grateful for the opportunity to discuss women’s health, which would help her stop her blubbering about Jess and Derry getting married, Sophia sat on the edge of Lilah’s bed and talked to her about nursing, nutrition, sleep, fluids, lactation consultants, mental health, mindfulness meditation, and anything else she could think of.

But in the back of her mind, she kept thinking about the upheaval in the family. Her baby brother Edward was engaged to Molly. Lilah and Gavin were parents to twins, just as she was a twin. And Jess and Derry were married and would probably have a baby within the year, if Sophia’s instincts were right, and they usually were.

I’m ready for this, Sophia thought. I want a baby.

I need Zach’s baby.

“Thanks for the advice,” Lilah said. “It means a lot to me. Our mom won’t be here until tomorrow morning, and I appreciate your wisdom.”

Wisdom. Me? Sophia wanted to laugh. She’d always been clever, but wise? Like Derry, she’d sought out pleasure and taken what she wanted, living life to the fullest. But wisest?

Sophia. My Sophia.

She heard his voice in her mind, felt his love in her chest. The Beat began pounding, drowning out the sound of the other women’s voices, their cheerful talk and laughter.

“I have to go,” Sophia said, unable to hear her own voice. As if in a dream, she kissed Lilah’s forehead, waved to Molly, gave Jess one last embrace, and floated out of the room.

Following the sound of the Beat.

* * *

After Sophia had stormed out of the cabin, Zach had shifted, the sudden, visceral change one that felt so good, the stretch of bone and tendon releasing emotion better than words. Prowling about the massive estate the Stantons called a ranch had given him an appreciation for space. Nature. Open skies and vast prairies, punctuated by thick clusters of trees and ravines that stretched hundreds of feet down to riverbeds.

Running on the wind, chasing his own freedom meant that Zach had needed more, wanting to run back to Boston, find his way home, and resume a normal life.

Normal.

Images of his apartment back in Boston flitted through his mind as he panted on all fours before his guest room, the door open a few inches, allowing him to nose his way in. In Boston he had an elevator, air-conditioning, an affordable rent, and a studio apartment that was tidy. Minimalist even. Room for his bike because why own a car in the city? He’d decorated with other people’s castoffs, ruthlessly pragmatic.

Once his mother, his final relative, had succumbed to cancer, he’d been released from connection by blood.

And now he was connected to an entirely new species.

By serum.

A gust of wind ruffled the fur on his hindquarters, the twin sensations of wood against his snout and the air between all four legs coming to him in touch, then pictures, and finally words as Zach found himself standing.

On two legs.

He looked down to find his naked body just there, the familiar disorientation pulsing through him as he adjusted from animal to human form, foot soles scraped and burning, palms on fire. A sticky substance coated his right thigh and a flicker of images—pine trees? Evergreen bushes with long green spikes?—floated through memory.

The hair on his chest—which had thickened considerably since The Incident—was matted and wet, half with perspiration, half with some dirty, oily slick he couldn’t identify through smell. Walking into the room, he hesitated before the upholstered couch, the gray tweed so clean, so civilized that he stopped himself from sitting on it, muttering, “Bad dog,” to himself as he padded into the bathroom, the shower beckoning.

Every part of him felt disjointed. The obvious fact that he straddled two worlds was suddenly, briskly clear as the showerhead pounded his back, the water hitting like hot needles. The protective layer of fur that coated him in wolf form was gone in body, but in spirit it lingered, leaving him shivering, dazed, his big palms opening wide and resting against the tiled wall as he forced himself to take deep breaths, ears winding down from picking up every sound and tracking it, gauging danger by vibration.

It wasn’t the shifting that was hard.

It was the homecoming.

Returning to his human state was jarring, leaving him in a vicious, hangover-like state, one that seemed worse here. He inhaled steam, his lungs feeling expansive, enormous, chest rising and falling, his abs curling in and out as he watched water run in rivers over his naked thighs, down to a gold drain that looked like a mandala, a key, a talisman.

“I’m going crazy,” he muttered, but as he snatched the bar of soap from its carved granite dish and began to wash his chest, he felt some part of him come together, an integration that rocked him slightly, his feet moving apart on the wet floor to balance him. He paused, the soap foamed along his navel, as he took a few seconds to let the shift be complete.

Opening his eyes, he saw he was back in full, simultaneously relieved and sad.

He looked down at his hands, scars from his first shift dotting the skin on the back near the wrists, peering as if they held clues to what had happened with the delivery of Gavin and Lilah’s twins. How had he known exactly what to do? Not one part of what happened with that second baby was rooted in science. It was magic. Sorcery. An ancient power he would have considered as ludicrous as homeopathy and crystal healing just a few months ago. Zach was a scientist, a skeptic by trade.

People didn’t turn babies in distress by laying on hands and thinking it.

Yet he had.

Watching his new body held a certain morbid fascination for Zach, the penis an impressive specimen, if he did say so himself. Comparison is the death of ego, he knew, but…

As he ran one hand down his eight-pack, the slope of his belly long and lean, he tried to remember his former self, the way his body had been shorter, tight, and spare. Bones had less cushion, his neck inches smaller, his legs short and compact. Old Zach was just fine, a medium-sized man who had a doctorate, a great lab job, a future.

New Zach was a beast.

Literally.

His fingertips brushed against his cock, jerking the damn thing to life, the familiar swell of an erection an escape he gave in to.

“Sophia seems to like it fine,” he said to himself, indulging in a single stroke, knowing he couldn’t be satisfied with just one. Lust rose up in him as he let two terribly conflicting thoughts take up real estate in his mind:

Would she have liked his old cock?

When could he have sex with her again?

Closing his eyes, he touched himself and imagined her, willing that bizarre Beat between them to come to the forefront. As the water pounded his back, steam filling the glass-enclosed shower, his body so tense even the hot water did not help, he tried.

Failed.

Tried again.

Failed.

He looked down at his hand and let go, knowing nothing—not even a quick yank—would soothe him except for her.

He had to find her.

Now.

Furious with himself and knowing he was just putting himself through more tortured pain and angst by seeking her out, he rubbed shampoo on his head and finished the shower, pointedly ignoring the massive erection that bedeviled him.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he mumbled to himself as he dressed quickly, throwing on someone else’s clothes, the T-shirt they’d provided a lovely shade of brown that matched his eyes, though it was tight, contoured, and tailored. The cotton had a foreign feel to it, almost silky. Probably European.

He laughed to himself, mind blown by everything. Every part of this strange journey went back to a moment he hated himself for—the moment his grip had slipped at the lab, jostled by someone walking behind him, the needle piercing his skin.

The pain.

The blinding light, followed by a cold, harrowing darkness that felt like eternal death.

And then… nothing.

He shook his head, willing the memories away. Being chased by his own demons was the worst possible way to spend his time right now.

Chasing Sophia was so much better.

As he slipped out of the building, he found himself outside in the darkness. In the distance, a helicopter landed, workers sprinting toward it, unloading boxes. The ranch was a well-oiled machine, running twenty-four seven, he assumed, knowing how wealthy the Stantons were. And yet—he knew so little about them.

Time to change that.

Without a mental map of the buildings and rooms, he’d have to make his way to Sophia through trial and error, his legs aching as he walked up a narrow stone path toward the main house. The slight discomfort felt good, like a deep muscle that has finally been stretched so that blood can rush in, giving new life, a fresh start. This was going to be an awkward conversation, a stretch.

He was determined to see it through, to find a bridge to understanding between them, to quell the need for her that made being apart so maddening.

“Oh! Mr. Hayden!” Ariana, the maid, chirped out his name in surprise as he rounded a corner, nearly crashing into him. The last time he’d seen her was when she’d delivered the panicked news of the babies’ pending birth earlier that day.

“Hello, Ariana,” Zach said, peering over her shoulder. “Can you direct me to—”

“Of course!” She looked relieved. “This way.”

By the time Zach realized he was being taken not to Sophia’s place but to Asher Stanton’s office, it was too late. Edward was on a separate path to his right, carrying a bottle of champagne in each hand. As he looked up, the tall, somber man’s face changed in an instant to one of camaraderie.

“Zach! The hero of the day! Come join us.”

Would he have been invited if not for Ariana’s mistake? Zach wondered, nodding graciously to Edward. It wasn’t his fault. The guy seemed nice enough, if repressively quiet. Following Edward inside the office, he discovered they weren’t alone.

Oh, no.

Every single Stanton man was in the room.

All of Sophia’s many brothers.

He hadn’t planned on being the center of attention at a Stanton brother drinkfest, but then again, Zach hadn’t planned any of the past few days’ events.

Scratch that. Not days.

Make it months.

So much for finding Sophia and burying himself in her.

“Zach!” Derry boomed, his voice juicy and bombastic. “Join us in a toast!”

His conversation with Sophia rose up like a demon. When did life involve so much emotional whiplash? One minute he was pressing Sophia for details on how much danger he was in being under her family’s control.

And the next, he was being offered champagne while socializing with said family.

“No, thank you,” he said, preferring to remain sober. When in doubt, don’t.

“Nonsense!” Derry persisted, pouring a very sloppy flute filled with golden bubbling drink. “Libations are required when one of our own procreates!”

One of our own.

Zach was the only child of only children. No siblings, no aunts and uncles, no cousins. Once his parents had died, one after the other by the time he was in his first year of grad school, separate cancers taking their toll, he’d lost that sense of being “one of our own” anywhere but at work, in the lab.

And look where that got him.

Zach drained his glass and set it on a table, ready to leave already.

Asher Stanton stood, dressed in his version of casual: a charcoal-gray suit, pressed dress shirt, cuff links glistening in the light as he drank a mouthful from his glass. No tie.

What a party animal.

But Gavin rose and crossed the room in quick order, embracing Zach like an old friend. “Thank you,” he whispered fiercely, the hot push of alcohol-soaked breath making Zach smile. “You saved her. You saved them. I don’t know how in the bloody hell you did it, and while Asher cares, I don’t. Not right now.”

At the phrase “Asher cares,” Zach stiffened.

Edward pressed a half-full glass of champagne into Zach’s hand during the hug. “You’ll need this. Trust me.”

Gavin unwound himself from Zach and—did the guy actually wipe a tear out of the corner of his eye?

Emotions were in abundant supply here.

Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Zach stood awkwardly, the men spread out like a baseball diamond. If Zach were home base, Gavin would be second, Derry first, Edward played shortstop, and Asher was at third.

You have to cross third base to make it home safe.

“How did you do it?” Asher asked him, eyes narrow with interest. Not anger.

“I don’t know.” Zach wasn’t going to shine them on or play games. As he locked eyes with the patriarch of the Stanton family, he suddenly saw the resemblance he shared with Sophia. So many questions poured through him, scores tumbling like a rockslide.

“I believe you. You really don’t know.” Asher crossed the room, brow down, his long fingers tugging at the top of a leather-bound book on a shelf behind his desk.

Derry groaned. “Not now, Asher. It’s not the time.”

“It absolutely is the time,” Asher replied, his voice filled with a tiny thread of amusement. “How could it ever not be time?”

“We’re celebrating Gavin’s children. Your new niece and nephew. We’re not giving Zach yet another ridiculous test. The man has more than proven himself, for goodness’ sake.”

Ah. So they were testing him.

Asher didn’t respond, the unspoken message clear: Derry’s protests simply didn’t matter. Asher Stanton would do whatever he wanted and expected to be obeyed.

“Can you read this?” he asked, setting the old book down on his desk, waving Zach to him like a student in a classroom being asked a question the professor knows he can’t answer.

Why wouldn’t he? The words were obvious.

“Of course. I have a PhD in biochemistry from Michigan. I’m capable of reading English.” He looked at the words, frowning.

The room turned inside out, so quiet Zach felt as if he’d seamlessly moved into a parallel universe where all the layers of life ceased to be, and only silence reigned.

“What,” Asher choked out, the hand gripping his glass corded and taut, white knuckled and teeming with tension, “does it say?”

Zach leaned down, looking carefully at the splotchy, worn page Asher had turned to. “‘A Chronicle of All Known Animal Changelings and Spells to Secure Them Safely Home,’” he read, making a snort of amusement as he ran one fingertip down the page to a particular passage. “Who knew that eating a live frog curbed the need to mate during a full moon at Samhain?” He read further. “But only for a wild boar shifter. Huh.”

“Dear God,” Asher said, his face white as a sheet, hand shaking as he set down his glass. For a moment Zach thought the man would clasp it so tightly it would splinter into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Come on,” Zach said, searching out Derry and Edward for connection, to counteract Asher’s bizarre behavior. “Is this some sort of hazing? Make me read silly books and I’m in the club?”

“You’re in the club, all right,” Derry said, his dark blue eyes big and wide with a mixture of awe and amusement as he searched the room, landing on Gavin with raised eyebrows.

“Read on,” Gavin urged, finishing his full glass of champagne like a frat boy at a kegger.

All four Stanton men crowded around him as he read smoothly, halting here and there at English constructs that were centuries old. The patterns weren’t Old English or even Chaucerian—he’d taken enough advanced English classes to have a cursory knowledge of that, and this wasn’t it.

This was its own unique version.

He flipped a page, careful not to brush against what appeared to be illustrated text that used gold in the ink, the words reminding him of the Book of Kells, which he’d seen at Trinity College in Dublin on a European excursion. Great care had been taken some centuries back to preserve what Zach now read, the words increasingly harsh in tone, warning the reader about the many dangers “animal changelings” faced.

“What does it all say, Zachary?” Asher’s use of his full name snapped him out of his thoughts. Zach looked up to find all four men staring at him.

“You want me to read it all?”

“You can? Every word?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus,” Derry muttered.

“Not quite, but close,” Gavin said under his breath, his mouth curling up into a strange smile. “And my serum made him.” He gave Asher a pointed look.

Ice water filled Zach’s veins at that comment. With great restraint, he tenderly, carefully closed the book, then took his own flute of champagne, drinking it in one long series of swallows, setting the delicate glass down.

He faced Asher full on, palms flat against the desk, face-to-face.

“You’re done testing me. It’s time for me to test you.”

Derry’s face split with a grin.

“You are not—” Asher began.

“Am I free to leave the ranch at will? Right now?” Zach interrupted him, tired of being dominated.

“Why would you—”

Zach’s hand curled into a fist, smashing down on top of the old oak desk so hard he felt his bones give, the pain vibrating through the wood, into the floor, finding an end somewhere in the earth’s crust as if he summoned a demon, a goddess, an angel.

Sophia. My Sophia, he mused, the intrusive thought a balm, a mantra, a lifeline.

A call to arms.

“I’m asking the questions,” he said in a quiet, deadly voice.

“Yes,” Gavin said. “You are. You were never a prisoner.”

“Tell that to him,” Zach snapped, glaring at Asher.

“Ask away,” Gavin said, moving next to Asher, the brotherly resemblance clear in their features but not in their emotions.

“You injected this man, Mason Webb, with the same serum that changed me. You killed him later. Is that what you’re planning to do with me?”

“Dear Lord, no,” Asher exclaimed, his mask gone as earnest emotion showed on his face. “Why would you ever think that? And we didn’t inject him. Tomas—”

“Gee, Asher, I don’t know,” Zach replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Because you told me I couldn’t leave? Because you openly said I’d be better off dead? Because you described how all of you killed the only other human being who became a shifter because of that damned serum? How could any thinking man not come to the conclusion that all of you Stantons represent the single greatest threat to my existence?”

“We didn’t kill Webb. He’s dead because—”

“Don’t lump me in with them,” said a strong female voice behind Zach. He whipped around to find Sophia standing in the doorway, wearing a green wrap dress, her hair winding down her shoulders like a black silk scarf, eyes blazing with self-righteous fury. He throbbed for her, the intensity so sudden he felt his heart skip a beat before thumping in his chest at triple time, heat flooding his arms and legs, his body drawn to her like iron to a magnet. Controlling his breathing became hard, the splintered sense that he was in danger fighting for dominance inside his heart, which told him to touch her, to be with her, to give in.

“You know better, Zach,” she added, jutting her chin up in defiance.

“Do I?”