One week later, in the back seat of her Boston limo, Sophia applied another layer of mascara and a swipe of lipstick. She had one thing on her mind.

Tradition.

Until this year, she’d spent every autumn of her postpubescent life seeking out sexual partners to slake her thirst for the quiet winter months ahead. Like a squirrel, she felt the urge to stock up on nuts. Lots and lots of nuts. Why should this year be any different? Just because she’d heard the Beat with a creature incapable of returning the favor didn’t mean she should sob, pitiful and alone, in her big, empty cabin in Montana. Quite the opposite. What better time to return to the habits that had kept her happy all these years?

Forcing a smile, she got out of the car and looked up at the luxury skyscraper that housed the Platinum Club.

“Looking beautiful as ever, Ms. Stanton,” the driver said. “Shall I wait here or come back at a particular time?”

She took off her jacket and flung it into the car, leaving her only in heels and a sleeveless crimson sheath dress with a high-altitude slit up one side. If she’d been wearing underwear, it would’ve ruined the effect. “You’d better wait. I’ll be returning home with a companion or two very soon.”

“Very good,” he said.

It better be, she thought as she went into the lobby, her stilettos pinging on the marble. She checked her face one more time in a mirrored wall before taking the private elevator up to the Plat. It was a Thursday night, not the best time for hookups, but she’d never worried about days of the week and wasn’t going to start now.

The Novo Club downstairs would have shifter men who might be more adventurous, but she knew most of them too well already. Tonight she wanted the bliss of anonymity. Or at least a man who was anonymous to her. Everyone at the Platinum knew Sophia Stanton. It made life easier for her when she didn’t have to explain what she wanted.

Sex. Now, her place, no rules, no strings. Unless she was the one tying the knots.

“Evening, Ms. Stanton,” the bartender said from behind the bar.

“Please call me Sophia, Carl,” she said absently, scanning the lounge. She’d told the Plat’s bartender to use her first name many times, but he insisted on keeping it formal, as if she might be misled about his sexual orientation if he got too personal. The man was clearly interested in the same gender as she was. In fact, she’d relied on his observant gaze for years. She leaned against the bar, letting her long, exposed leg flash everyone around her. “Any particularly tasty fish in the pond tonight, darling?”

Shaking her martini, he glanced over her left shoulder. “How many?” he asked quietly. He poured her cocktail, knowing to skip the olive, which she hated.

She picked up the glass and plastered a hungry grin on her face she didn’t feel. “Two, I think. Three if they fit together nicely. I’d hate to break up a set.” She’d fake it until she made it. She sipped the martini and tapped the bar to let Carl know she’d want another. For some reason she felt the need for chemical stimulation tonight.

That damn Beat. That damn serum. Damn it all for ruining a good life.

No. It had almost ruined her, but she was fighting back.

“Those two over there aren’t too bad,” Carl said. “One of them has a hit series on HBO. The other is an Australian surfer who’s making a fortune in licensing deals.”

It was easy to pinpoint the two men he meant in the crowd. Both were gorgeous, one dark, one blond. “I don’t care about his money,” she mumbled, looking into her glass. The buzz would be too slow to come, so she set it down, impatient to get her business over with. Once she captured her prizes and got them home, she could enjoy herself. They were watching her now, their hungry eyes betraying their obvious interest. “Anyone else trying to get a hook in them tonight?”

“Eva seemed to appreciate the surfer,” Carl said in a low voice, chuckling. “But it was doomed from the start. She hates the water.”

Sophia smiled. Eva, a distant cousin who managed the club, was a cat shifter. Carl was human but knew a lot of secrets about their family. Sophia suspected his discretion had earned him quite a fortune of his own.

“Wish me luck,” Sophia said with a sigh. She pushed away from the bar.

Before she’d taken two steps, Carl said, “Sophia?”

She turned, surprised by his use of her first name. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

The genuine concern in his voice and the tender goodwill in his kind eyes made her pause. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just wondering. I’d hate to see my favorite Stanton unhappy.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

But when she turned away to resume her hunt, she had to blink away tears.

No. Stop it. You can do this.

Pushing her hair over one shoulder, she walked up to the men who stood around a small, high table. “Good evening,” she said. She looked directly at one man, then the other.

The fair-haired one flushed a delicious shade of sunburn. “Hi,” he said.

She wasn’t impressed. Cute but not exactly articulate.

“Beautiful dress,” said the other man, the actor. He added a leer to give it emphasis.

Oh come on, was that as good as they could do?

“I’m Sophia,” she said.

“We know,” the surfer said. His Australian lilt should have charmed her, but she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“We were hoping to meet you,” the actor said. “Came here for that very reason, in fact. Had to wait in line for an hour to get into this part of the club.”

Instead of pleasing her, she found the information nauseating. What was she, a new iPhone? A shiny trinket to brag about online? Would they expect photographs with the famous object for proof of purchase to impress their friends, the world?

She looked away and took a deep breath. This wasn’t their fault. They were gorgeous, sexually vital creatures who were looking to satisfy their needs, just as she was. Just as she’d done many, even countless, times in the past.

Attitude determinedly restored, she turned back to the men. “My limo is waiting downstairs. Feel like going for a ride?”

They glanced at each other like two teenage girls about to break curfew and crash a frat party, weighing the payoff against the danger.

“Absolutely,” the actor said first.

“Oh yeah,” the surfer agreed.

She pivoted on her heel and headed for the public elevator, not even bothering to look behind her and confirm they were following. Honestly, she didn’t much care. Somebody would follow her. Other men had noticed her arrival and were enviously watching her progress with these two men. If they chickened out, others would accept the challenge.

She jabbed the elevator call button.

Once, a man had said no. Right here at this elevator. He’d looked as hungry as the rest of them did, but something had stopped him.

She clenched her fists. She wouldn’t think about Zach. When the elevator arrived, she put an arm around each of the men’s waists and escorted them onto the car, bumping her hips against theirs, piercing them with sexually suggestive looks.

Doing anything to make herself feel something.

When the doors closed, the actor slid a hand under the slit in her dress, over her thigh, far enough for his fingers to graze her pussy, and squeezed.

Before she knew what she was doing, she’d decked him.

* * *

Zach stared at his bank balance. He should be smiling.

He wasn’t.

It had been a week since his departure from Montana, and he was still processing everything he’d been through. LupiNex had, indeed, given him a generous settlement. He never, ever needed to work. Being idle wasn’t in his nature—even his new, primal nature. Boredom was a kind of illness, Zach succumbing every day he had nothing to do.

And while boredom never actually killed anyone, it could cripple.

Sam had made it clear that if he wanted his old job back, he could have it. While Zach doubted she possessed the authority to make that decision, he found it intriguing. Asher Stanton would love to have Zach back at work, he was sure. Back at LupiNex, under surveillance he could monitor via his brother Gavin.

Zach was done being a zoo animal, thank you very much. No matter how nice or natural the exhibit grounds were, the animals were still there without choice.

A golden cage is still a cage.

A jet flew by on its way to Logan Airport, a sound Zach had heard thousands of times in his years in the city, but it made his head burn. City life was a form of sensory torture to him now. When he’d been in recovery at the clinic, Zach had never realized how painful city cacophony could be, cooped up inside. The ranch in Montana had been its own refuge, set off so far from civilization that it was like a game preserve.

Left to his own devices in a tiny studio that was starting to feel like a thrift shop coffin, Zach was going a bit crazy.

And then there was Sophia.

Speaking of crazy.

Asher Stanton’s words haunted him. All the mixed signals at the ranch had thrown Zach for a loop, but it took three days back in Boston for him to realize the truth.

He was the source of the mixed signals. Lying to Sophia about hearing her inside his head, feeling her in his blood, had been a mistake.

An irrevocable mistake.

She was here, in Boston. He sensed it, the way you know where your hand is in relation to your body, even with eyes closed. Part of him, she moved around like a small planet orbiting his body.

Perhaps it was the other way around.

The breathing space he’d desperately needed after being trapped at the Stanton ranch hadn’t yielded the clarity he needed. Instead, he ached for her, tracking her whereabouts using some kind of fuzzy shifter math that didn’t make sense, giving him a general idea that she was nearby without the precision of a GPS. If this was an ancient version of mapping software, a shifter DNA benefit, then it needed some work. All this connection did was frustrate him.

She didn’t want him in her life. Asher Stanton certainly didn’t want Zach in Sophia’s life. And given the uncertainty about his body, his powers, his future, he couldn’t give in to desire for the mere sake of following a strange attraction that made no sense outside this small world.

Made no sense, period.

“I need a dog,” he said aloud, the words the first he’d spoken in nearly a day. Living alone with delivery services for damn near everything in the city, Zach had plenty of food, good coffee, and about seventeen years’ worth of Netflix shows to catch up on. Who needed friends when you could binge-watch?

“I need a life,” he added, looking down at his body, no shirt, loose sweatpants, and bare feet. When had he showered last? A quick sniff test told him it hadn’t been yesterday.

He licked his lips, realizing he was thirsty. The book he was trying to read, an epic fantasy series a friend told him was a blend of sci-fi and supernatural theories, turned to word mush before his eyes.

Sometimes the best way to love someone is to let them go, for their own good.

Damn Asher Stanton for being right.

Maybe shifters had powers Zach didn’t understand, like mind control. If he believed in witchcraft, Zach could imagine he’d been bewitched, put under a strange, intoxicating spell cast by Sophia. The time between walking out of LupiNex to find her at the Platinum Club and Asher putting him on a plane back home to Boston had been like something out of a dream. A fairy tale. A cautionary legend, one drawn up and smoothed out over time, shaped to meet the cultural needs of a given generation.

Why Zach’s overworked mind would need to create what happened to him in Montana as some kind of fantasy was a question for a different time. For now, he indulged in a few fleeting moments of imagination, the distance giving him the tiniest perspective that wasn’t painful.

And then reality settled in, digging a trench for the long haul of emotional warfare.

Because Sophia Stanton most certainly had happened to him, and the memory of her wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Every aspect of his life reminded him of her. An airplane flying overhead. The rush of wind against his face as he ran along the Charles River. Hell, a Smokey the Bear poster made him gasp with laughter, then frown and shake it off. He avoided museums and science centers, the places he’d formerly used as intellectual refuge. Without the lab, without a purpose, he found himself unable to stop thinking about her.

He needed to get a grip.

Opening his laptop, he clicked to a browser window and typed her name yet again. Internet searches were a double-edged sword. Occasionally she made the twenty-first-century version of society pages, now disguised as lifestyle blogs, her picture a blur. All the entries predated his time on the ranch, a fact he found ridiculously comforting. The thought of Sophia touching or being touched by another man made him feel murderous.

That wasn’t hyperbole.

It scared him, the rush of adrenaline at the thought of another man touching his woman.

At the same time, his sense of possession overrode the fear. She was his.

His.

No one else’s.

Rational Zach knew that was bullshit, but he wasn’t purely rational anymore.

Just as he wasn’t purely human anymore.

With a great sigh, he hit the search button. Nothing new on Sophia.

A migrating restlessness crept over his skin, a tactile sensation he’d reluctantly adjusted to lately. It wasn’t a shift. This was a sense of ambiguity, his body uncertain. It washed over him in moments when his emotions got the better of him, especially when he looped around and around in memory, the last argument with Sophia at the ranch taking over. It was so open-ended, no closure, Sam’s appearance interrupting what had been an increasingly intense fight. If only Sophia hadn’t stormed out.

If only Asher hadn’t hit him.

If only Sophia would talk to him.

“You haven’t tried,” he muttered to himself, standing abruptly, his office chair tipping backward onto the floor with a soft thud as it hit the small rug between his desk and bed. The unexpectedly harsh movement triggered an impulse in him, his heart rate picking up, agitation taking an explorative walk on his skin and liking the feel.

Two steps and he was at his dresser, yanking the top drawer open and quickly changing into running shorts, socks and shoes on before he could think twice. Pounding his body via running would help, his own pace better than any imposed on him by overwhelm.

Doing nothing was so much harder than acting.

And while a run wasn’t going to change a damn thing, it would keep him busy.

Old Zach would never go running outside on the streets in late autumn without a shirt, a behavior reserved for gyms, but New Zach didn’t give a shit, especially now as he fought too many contradictory urges. Uncontrollable shifting wasn’t one of them, thank God. He’d spent the past few days working on mastering the intricacies, using basic scientific method approaches to calibrate various biological processes and chart his own behavior.

When scent became exquisite or his sight began to sharpen, he knew he was close, pulling back to center, a bit tired and wasted like he’d run a marathon. As he headed outside his apartment building, keys and phone in one slim pocket, he didn’t bother warming up.

He didn’t need to. Stamina had changed with the lab accident, too.

As he ate the sidewalk with long, even steps, the blocks disappearing behind him, he dodged the occasional person. Every dog on a leash barked at him, a new phenomenon. Did they smell his animal side? Were they threatened? Afraid? He couldn’t discern the meaning of their animal sounds, and yet as time passed he grasped more. How much longer before he could speak Dog, too?

What else would change in him? Did he have a limit to these crazy powers? Being omniscient was never a priority, he thought to himself, letting out a chuckle as he jogged in place at a red light. An older woman carrying a briefcase gave him a sideways glance and took one step away. Sweat began to coat his neck and arms, the unseasonal dewy humidity a much-appreciated distraction. He turned left, then right, crossing bridges that became afterthoughts as he zoomed, then roared, trying to become mindless by being all body.

All senses.

All touch.

He failed.

Plagued by images of Sophia, her tender eyes, her beating heart, he moved through the night, trying to find compartments inside himself where emotion could neatly fit. This was how he had lived for his first thirty-one years. Reason dictated action. Logic was the basis for strategy. Experimentation, hypothesis, evidence—all were the foundation upon which science operated, and they were great companions to Stoicism, giving Zach a perfect blueprint for his life.

Supernatural beings who turned into animals and had a secret parallel society filled with feuds and villains and serums that turned humans into monsters were the stuff of cheesy B movies.

And now that was his reality.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, stopping again at a red light, determined to sprint the next few miles until his legs were numb rubber bands. As he came back to earth and looked around, he realized he was standing at the light in front of LupiNex. Right across from the large, decorative fountain where he used to sit during his lunch break.

Damn it.

So much for compartmentalization.

Longing shot through him, an intense burst of emotion that turned quickly into something chemical, almost sinister, pouring into his bloodstream and making his skin buzz. He needed her, the feeling so strong it felt dangerous, as if his very survival depended on being with her. He crossed the street and made his way across the stone-covered entrance to his workplace.

Willing the feeling away, he took one hand and held it right above the fountain’s mist, forcing himself to break the chain of emotion inside him. He was going nuts.

And then he felt it. The first symptoms of a shift.

Wolves could blend into the cityscape more easily than almost any other animal, he suspected. Stray dogs and cats were embedded in city life, but he’d never heard of domesticated animals being shifters. He made a mental note to ask Sam the next time he saw her. So many questions swirled through him as he paused behind a massive stone sculpture, a dark brown polished stone that looked just enough like twin strands of DNA to make him pause and look critically at it, wondering if he’d never noticed it before because the fountain buried the clean lines or if his shifter status gave him some new insight.

Shirtless, sweating, breathing hard from the sprints, he brought himself back to center and let the fountain’s water rush calm him. Soothe him.

Tame him.

Until he saw Sophia storm out of the building like her hair was on fire, her long, strong legs in stiletto heels that cracked against the stones beneath her like gunshots. Her face was drawn tight, brow furrowed with fury, and he felt her, the Beat so strong, like a cannon blast, he nearly staggered backward, holding his own as the vibration consumed him.

She paused, jolting like someone who’d been stung by a bee, and looked around, furtive. He knew she felt it yet knew he couldn’t let her know he was there. Closing his eyes, he tightened every muscle in his body, his heart squeezing, body pulling inward, pulling back. A force like a shield seeped into his skin, his body an echo chamber for the Beat. Slowly Zach opened his eyes, the world swimming before him until Sophia came into sharp focus.

She shook her head quickly, rubbed the spot between her eyes, and resumed her path to escape whatever had angered her.

The black SUV limo gleamed as a driver he didn’t know opened the door and Sophia climbed in, her face obscured by the tinted glass, the vehicle moving like liquid grace, taking half his heart with it.

“Good God,” he muttered as he let out his breath. That had been close.

Too close.

As the red taillights disappeared into the night, regret washed over him. He’d just made a mistake. A terrible mistake.

Shielding her from his Beat—their Beat—was a power he didn’t know shifters possessed.

Or did they? Was his power unique?

Regardless, a sudden spike of deep sorrow made his gut tighten, abs aching as he took deep, hard breaths, trying to control the uncontrollable. His need for her wasn’t going to go away. This wasn’t fading over time.

It was growing.

“Zach?”

He spun sharply, shocked to find Sam standing near a large planter just outside the LupiNex side entrance, a big leather brief bag over one shoulder, her coat over her arm. Her hair was up, off her face, and her glasses made those smart green eyes seem sharper.

“Sam,” he said, the word a gasp as he struggled to process what he’d just experienced. It should’ve been too late for her to be at the office, but Sam had always put in long hours. Like Zach used to. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” She began to look him over, then stopped herself, blinking hard as she cleared her throat. Looking him in the eye with a laser-like precision, she added, “Are you here for medical reasons?”

Can you treat a broken heart? he almost asked, but reeled it in at the last second.

“Ah, no. Went for a run and didn’t realize my own strength,” he said with a chuckle.

“Your strength is growing?”

“What? I don’t know.”

“But you just said—”

“I was joking, Sam. I’m fine.”

“Oh. You’re overdue for some testing though.” As she gave him a kind smile, he softened. Sam had been his boss for a few years. He considered her a friend.

Sophia blitzed through his brain like a meteor, making him close his eyes, the Beat tearing through him with a whiplash effect.

“Zach?” Sam stepped forward and touched his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

Zach’s phone rang, the buzzing muted in his pocket. His sweat-soaked hand fumbled longer than normal before he got the swipe to work on the glass screen.

“Zach here.”

“Leave her alone,” barked Asher Stanton, the last person Zach expected to call his cell.

“I am! I haven’t tried to contact her once!” Zach protested. “She happened to walk by, but I didn’t say a word to her. I’m leaving Sophia alone, just like we agreed.”

“I’m not talking about Sophia.”

Zach pulled the phone away from his ear as if it were a poisonous snake. “What?” he barked.

“Stay away from Samantha.”

“What?” Stunned by Asher Stanton’s omniscience, he looked wildly at the sky, wondering what the hell kind of tech the man was using to track him.

“You do not seem to understand what I am telling you, Zachary.” The use of his full name felt condescending—because it was. Asher’s attempt to make him feel small didn’t work.

“I hear you, loud and clear. I’m under constant surveillance, and yet I’m supposed to steer clear of anyone you say is off-limits, including my boss—and friend.”

“Perhaps you do understand, after all.”

“Look, Asher, I am not trying to sleep with Sam,” Zach said in a low voice. “So if this is some bullshit jealousy of yours, I—”

“I was mistaken.” Asher’s tone could cut glass. “You do not understand. This has nothing to do with sex,” he spat out. “It has to do with safety.”

“You think Sam and Sophia are unsafe around me?”

“I know they are.”

“Because—because I’m a human shifter? You think I’m uncontrolled and would hurt them? What the hell?”

“Stop. Think. Use that logical, rational mind you seemed to have when you were here at the ranch.”

“I am!”

“No, Zach. You are not. Why do you think I am having you watched?”

“Because you’re insane and have an overdeveloped need for control.”

“Wrong. Because Tomas Nagy is doing the same.”

“You think Tomas is having me followed?”

“I know he is.”

“How do you know?”

Asher sighed. “Because he was my closest friend for years. I know how his mind works. And also because my people have observed his people tailing you.”

Sam’s eyes bugged out of her head as Asher’s last sentence floated out of the phone. Zach held his breath, letting the words sink in fully.

His mind processed the layers of information like a computer, checking and rechecking, computing and recomputing, until finally he said in a voice as emotionless as possible, “If he knows Sophia and Sam are important to me, he might— Oh God.”

“Finally. You do understand. Stay away from them both.”

Click.

“He can’t do that!” Sam said, outrage in her voice as she made little huffing sounds of fury. “He is such a domineering jerk!”

But Zach felt her floating away from him, the words turning into gibberish, loud patterns of sound that went up and down, in and out as his skin tingled, bones elongating.

Yes, he thought. Finally.

Let go.

“Zach? Zach? Oh my God…” Those were the last words he understood as he gave in to the blissful power of his animal half, slipping off into an alleyway to lose himself.

By choice.