Bear Shifter Romance

LA Shifters

PROLOGUE:

“Ready for this?”

Antonio, the large wolf with black fur and green eyes, turned at the words.

Magda, shifted from her bear form to human, stood close by the edge of the pen where she was kept. “I guess it’s a moot question, really, but I thought I’d ask.”

Antonio shifted quickly, skin and bone forming and growing then transforming until he stood on two legs, his skin bare of the fur. The wind blew across his skin and goose pimples rose. “I’d say yes, but that would be a lie.”

Magda grinned. The dim light flashed off her large white teeth. “Are you ready enough?”

Antonio moved closer, but still stayed below the shelter, out of sight of the zookeepers, if any should happen along. “As ready as we can be.”

Magda nodded. Her long brown hair waved around her cunning face. “It won’t be easy.”

Antonio said, “Never expected it to be. How we’ve stood it this long is anyone’s guess.”

It was anyone’s guess. The zoo had captured them all at some point, bringing them into the zoo under the assumption that they were the animals whose forms they could shift into. High doses of tranquilizers kept them complacent, and the food they ate was always laced with those drugs.

Shifting was dangerous—for a lot of reasons. For one, all of them were in cages with actual non-shifting animals. Those animals harried them daily and forced the shifters to the edges of the pens. The keepers assumed that they were just not assimilating, and they weren’t, because they couldn’t.

Antonio had thought he was the only shifter caught in that hell until he had seen Magda one night. She had been enraged enough, and awake enough, to shift right there in her pen. She’d almost been killed because the bears had gone on the attack. She’d had to shift back and fight to stay alive. The keepers had come in with their sedation tools and their sprays, and Magda had ended up in a pen just for herself because she was deemed untrustworthy.

She was also marked as a zoo failure, and while the zoo, on the surface of things, did not kill its animals unless it was necessary, she had pretty well punched her own ticket that night.

It was just a matter of time before they took her down. That went for both the keepers and the actual bears pacing in their pens, which were connected to hers even if they were separated by a slim band of trees and glass.

Antonio said, “You shouldn’t be shifting yet. What if you are spotted? The whole thing could go up in flames. The cameras might spot you and then what? There’s no way to explain a naked woman in a pen where a bear was a moment before. You’re being foolish.”

Magda snorted. “I have to. I can’t stand not to.”

“I know.” He put his weight on the other foot, his eyes searching the pens.

“The keepers should stay where they are for a few more minutes,” Magda replied. “Now’s our best chance.”

“Yeah.” Antonio lifted a hand, raking his fingers through his thick hair as his nostrils spread and his head lifted. He sniffed the air, but the scent of humans lay too thick everywhere to know if any were nearby. “Just keep one eye out for anyone, will you?”

“I will.”

“Get going then.”

“I didn’t need your permission.”

The words made Antonio grit his teeth. “No, you don’t.”

Magda paused. “I’m not staying here anymore. If I have to die here tonight, I will. I would rather be dead than be here and alive.”

Antonio’s heart sped up. He scanned the surroundings again, seeing nothing but shadows sifting and crawling out there along the concrete pathways. “I’m with you, no matter how this pans out.”

Am I willing to die here tonight? Yes, he was. He understood that even as his mind scrawled past all the risks she was taking and resentment at her willingness to take those risks simmered up in his being.

Because Magda was in a position to pass things on, she had told him about the others. At night, when they were herded from their outside enclosures and into their pens, he had spotted a few other shifters, or thought he had. Magda had confirmed that there were others here, just as eager to escape as she and Antonio were.

Revealing themselves as shifters would be disastrous. They all knew that from experience. No way did any of them want to become the pet project at some lab, stuck full of needles and having their brains scanned while being forced to shift constantly for ‘research.’

By the law of nature, they were all enemies. Wolves, bears, and tigers were not meant to be friends. In the wild, they would have fought and killed each other. Here, they had to work together or die.

This was their only shot, and they all knew it.

The zoo had to cut power in the cages and pens tonight, and keepers would be standing guard to make damn sure no animal escaped while they did the routine maintenance that he, Magda, and Patel had all been waiting on for an entire year.

This was their chance, and they would have to take it.

They had a plan.

As soon as the power went out, Magda, who was alone in her pen and stood the best chance of being able to get out without being eaten by non-shifting bears for her troubles, was going to climb her enclosure in bear form, because she was more capable of scaling the great height of the tree in that form.

But the branch that stuck out from the enclosure would never hold her in bear form, so she would have to reach it and shift then drop onto the paved and concrete walkway.

It was going to hurt. Even with her mutated healing abilities, she was going to be wounded, and naked.

A naked woman toppling onto the path would be noticed, but since the power was going to be out, the cameras would be out, too, which would give her the perfect chance to get into the keepers’ lockers and grab clothing for them.

Antonio knew Magda was not all that keen on helping the other shifters escape. The only reason she was doing so was because if she did not, they had all threatened to not only shift and reveal their secret, but to tell hers as well.

No way would anyone let a shifter escape. The government really would track her down to the end of her days and that chip they all had implanted under their skin would certainly aid in her capture.

That was why she had agreed to help free Antonio and Patel. Patel was a surgeon and capable of removing the chips, and Antonio had contacts in LA, unlike Magda and Patel. He could get them into shelter for the next few days, and get them food and other things they needed.

Once dressed and in possession of the keys, Magda would unlock their pens. It was risky, because they could all go down in flames if she were caught.

Antonio chewed his lips as he watched her shift yet again.

This was it.

His heart picked up again, his pulse ticking away in his throat. His gaze moved across the landscape, his mouth opened as he tasted the air, trying to separate old scent from new.

The branch gave a low warning creak, making his head jerk upward. “Be careful, dammit.”

“I am being careful,” she snapped. “I don’t want to break my legs or something, you know. Even if they will heal, I’ll be in misery for days. What’s more, there’ll be no way I could run.”

Magda climbed the tree and when she reached the fork of the branch, she shifted again. She paused, looking down, and Antonio’s heart thumped painfully in his chest as he shifted back to wolf form.

What if she lost her nerve? What if she could not bring herself to jump from that branch, knowing how much pain she risked?

The branch creaked again, an alarming sound. The faint jingle of keys worn on a hip sounded out and a keeper strolled closer. Antonio could hear far better than Magda, and he was the lookout. She looked down at him, sniffing hard as she did so.

He ran closer to the edge, where she could see him, and placed a paw out, aiming it in the direction the keeper was coming from.

Magda stayed put. The bare strands of moonlight played over her body, all lean and high angles and rounded breasts and hips.

Lust stirred up in Antonio, and he forced it away.

Bears and wolves did not mix. It was against nature and even shifters had to play by those laws. His thoughts went back to the pups he had created with a non-shifting she-wolf.

The pups had just been born a few hours before. They were there, in the pen, and they were his. He would take them with him, because not to do so meant risking them being shifters trapped in this existence, and risking shifters with no ability to handle the shifts exposing him and every other shifter in the world.

There were plenty of shifters in LA, established packs out there in the neighborhoods. He would take his children and find a pack or forge a new one. If they could not shift, he would have to send them into the steep canyons to live, where they could be free and away from the humans who would kill them.

The keeper stepped out from a thick clot of shadows. It was the ruthless one, Barry. There were keepers who loved every animal in the zoo, and then there were keepers like Barry, who was known to hit, kick, and hurt.

Magda watched him, and Antonio saw the expression on her face. A warning growl rose in his throat, but she ignored it.

Dammit! His body shifted instinctively as Magda went down, right on top of Barry.

Magda landed on the keeper, already shifting to bear form. The heaviness of her body took Barry down and she landed right on his chest, forcing all the air from his lungs and preventing him from being able to scream.

The thick and rich tang of blood hit the air, driving Antonio into a near-frenzy, no matter how much he tried to stay level-headed. He was not the only one reacting. Howls and growls rose up all along the long path that ran in front of that section of pens. It was just a matter of time before the other keepers showed up and they were all fucked.

Magda, bloody and triumphant, grabbed the keys from Barry’s hip and came to his pen. She smiled at him. Blood covered the entire lower half of her face as she laughed, “Change of plans, Antonio. You have to come out now, and there’s no time to grab those pups.”

“Like hell.” He shifted again and then again. He needed to be in human form to snatch the pups from their protective mother and he knew it, but he was risking much and he knew that as well.

The howls rose in the air and the she-wolf, stunned and sleepy from childbirth, but alert because of the blood riding the air and the crisp scent of a human in her pen, fought him hard, forcing Antonio to kill her even though that was the last thing he wanted.

The other wolves backed off, but their howls rent the air as Antonio gathered the limp and shivering bodies of the pups and ran for the gate and the unlocked door.

Once he was out, Magda locked the gate again and they ran, naked and with the smell of blood and newborns all over them, toward Patel’s cage.

Patel had done the only thing he could. As an outcast from the tigers, he lived on the fringes and right then he was up high in a tree, trying to escape the frenzied fighting below.

Magda said, “For God’s sake, let’s just leave him.”

“Fuck you, we need him,” Antonio retorted. “And besides, if we leave him here, he dies, thanks to your stupidity and blood lust.”

He set the pups in a small basket meant to hold trash. Fear rippled through him. If the animal tigers escaped, they would kill his young, or if he died in that pen, the keepers might not find them in time to save their young lives. It was a risk he had to take.

He grabbed the keys from Magda’s blood-soaked hand and opened the pen, then charged in, changing again to wolf form.

Magda cursed a few times and followed. All hell broke loose, but Patel, able to escape the attention of the other tigers for a moment, slipped out the open gate.

Magda and Antonio turned to the gate in time to see Patel holding it with one hand, a considering look on his face.

Antonio’s heart sank. If Patel let them die there, he had nothing to fear. There would be no way the keepers would know for sure that they, or he, had been a shifter.

Antonio and Magda would shift to human form in death—and there would be one hell of a mystery around the reason two humans had been in that pen, but nobody would ever guess the truth, and Patel would owe them nothing.

Patel waved a hand. “Come on!”

Antonio’s legs pumped across the ground. He reached into the basket and gathered his pups. Four males and one female. The pups howled softly, their mouths nipping at his chest. They were hungry, and they were now motherless as well.

One of the pups, the female, bit down hard and began to fight him just as he made the gate and went through it.

She squirmed and bit, her little pup teeth sinking deep into his arm, bringing blood. The males were more docile, which angered Antonio for some reason.

He ran onward, ignoring the pain as they crossed between the pens and the tunnel that led to the employees’ work spaces.

The lockers were closed, but they were all strong. Antonio ripped one open. He pulled on clothes, his hands working quickly as he shifted the pups from side to side.

Magda said, “Maybe we should kill the rest of them. Or tie them down and force feed them.”

Patel, reaching for pants, added, “Make them breed with each other.”

Magda laughed. “They call it rape when they are forced. They call it necessary for us.” Her hand went to her belly. Antonio turned away. Magda’s cubs would be born soon, even if her human form didn’t show that fact.

Antonio said, “No. No time. Besides, there’s already one dead keeper and that is going to raise a huge hunt. They might have let us go far more peacefully, but now they’re going to be after blood.”

Magda tossed her head. “So?”

Antonio’s teeth showed. “So, they’re probably going to kill a bear and call it done. Now you’ve committed murder against your own kind with your foolishness.”

Magda’s eyes glittered. “When we’re done here, you’re my enemy.”

Antonio said, “I was your enemy before. So, nothing’s changed. Let’s go. No more death, Magda. I mean it.” He set the pups more carefully into the small jacket he had found, wrapping them securely to make sure the female would not continue to bite and scratch him.

Magda said, “Fine. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 1:

Present Day, Los Angeles

Angelina hissed in a pained breath as the claw hit her calf. Her eyes went to the wolf crouching low in a playful posture and she laughed, then tickled him under the chin. Rough hair met her fingertips and love smote her heart.

She said, “Oh, Mario, I wish you’d be more careful.”

Mario whined softly, low in his throat, his white furred ears pricking forward. He bounded off, and Angelina watched him go, sorrow forming.

Why she could shift and Mario couldn’t was one of life’s mysteries.

She and her other brother, Sam, could shift. Mario alone was trapped forever in a wolf form, and because of that, they had to protect him.

Joaquin spoke from behind her. “You do know someone should just shoot that poor bastard and put him out of his misery.”

Her hackles rose and her teeth began to elongate at the words, but she was quick to hide those things. Sher turned. “He’s fine Joaquin.”

Joaquin, a dark-haired, olive-skinned shifter with light hazel eyes and a definite swagger in his walk, strolled farther into the room. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. I’m sure my brothers would also say so. Maybe you want to ask them?”

“That’s enough.” His smile was unpleasant, all teeth and smugness. Angelina knew the only thing standing between her and Mario being killed was her. That and the fact that she was promised to Joaquin, who had been named Alpha of the pack after her father, Antonio, and Joaquin’s uncle, the former leaders of the pack, had been killed in a car accident the year before.

Antonio was in line to be Alpha, and had deserved to be, too. But with him and Joaquin’s uncle both dead, Joaquin had been placed as leader instead.

What a mistake that had been.

Joaquin eyed her carefully. “I need you at Los Lobos tonight.”

Her teeth ground together. “I don’t want any part of your drug trafficking, Joaquin. I don’t want any part of any of the things you’re doing in this neighborhood. You’re fucking it up for everyone, shifter and human alike, with that garbage.”

He was an asshole, and unfit to be Alpha, but he was fast and he was ruthless.

His hands were around her throat and her feet had left the floor before she could even register the fact that he had moved.

Furious, Angelina kicked out with her feet. There was a satisfying meaty thump and her toes, inside the cute little sandals, tingled as her feet met his hard flesh. Joaquin’s fingers tightened though. Blackness danced on the edges of her vision. Her breath stopped in her throat.

“Let her go.”

Joaquin dropped her. Angelina gave his jaw a swift punch. Joaquin staggered, his head whipping around.

It wasn’t over. He’d never call it done, not if he could help it.

Sam, her brother, stepped closer, menace showing on his strong features. His eyes swept from Angelina to Joaquin. “Don’t touch her like that again. Alpha or no, I will kill you.”

Joaquin bristled. “She deserved it. She disobeyed. Nobody gets to disobey me.”

The churlish tone made Angelina’s shoulders tense, but Joaquin finally left.

Sam asked, “What was that about?”

Angelina threw her hands up in the air. “He said Mario would be better off if someone shot him, and I disagreed. He demanded I go to his drug den tonight, and I disagreed.”

Sam glowered at her. “You’ve got to learn your place.”

“Are you insane? Don’t you…it’s only been a year since he was named Alpha and everyone acts like they do not even remember what it was like before he came to power. I remember! I remember we used to look after the neighborhood. We didn’t try to tear it down. We didn’t deal drugs and we damn sure didn’t deal it to our neighbors! Joaquin’s power and money hungry, he’s destroying our homes and lives, and all you are going to do is tell me to learn my place!”

Sam said, “That’s what I’m saying.”

Anger flushed heat through her system. Shift came with it. Her teeth elongated and fur rippled into place along her spine and neck. Cool out, she told herself as her nails grew, becoming sharp and dangerous. Cool out. He is still your brother and Dad would be upset if we fought. Not that I won’t fight him if I have to, but now is not the time or place.

Her body shifted again, the teeth and claws no longer showing, the fur replaced by smooth and supple skin. Her forehead puckered into a deep frown as sorrow gathered in the place of the all-encompassing rage. “How can you do that? Dad would be ashamed of you.”

“Don’t tell me what Dad would feel. He isn’t here, and you don’t get to speak for him. Even if you were his favorite.” Sam’s teeth were showing, too, even if he had not shifted.

The old rivalries between them still stood. She had always been their father’s favorite. He had called her his little warrior, and with reason. She had always been the fiercest of her litter, and Antonio had often laughed as he talked about how, on the night he had escaped from the zoo with them, it had been her who had fought and drawn his blood.

Don’t say it. You’re on thin ice here and it’s obvious Sam will protect you, but only up to a point. Don’t set him off and make him mad enough to let Joaquin have his way. You need Sam as an ally here.

“Thanks for not letting him choke me to death,” she said in a tight and strained voice.

“I might not be nearby next time. Watch your mouth, Angelina, before it gets you killed. Learn your place in this pack and keep it. If you don’t, I might not interfere again, not even if it means you dying.”

The warning was clear, and vicious. It laid bare all his allegiances. He would protect her as long as she was necessary. She was necessary but only because Joaquin wanted her as a mate, and that gave Sam some leverage in the pack. If she didn’t mate with Joaquin, and learn her place, go docile like a pet dog, she would be killed. Sam would be disgraced and probably exiled as a result, and they both knew it.

At that moment, she understood something else, too. Sam would kill her himself if Joaquin ordered it. Her legs turned liquid. She was alone and on shaky ground and the alliances within the pack were equally shaky and subject to change. None would stand against Joaquin, either because they stood to gain too much or because they stood to lose too much.

Okay, then.

Angelina moved to walk past Sam, but he grabbed her arm and held it tightly. His voice was low and deadly. “You’ll do as you are told.”

All her inner warnings and cries for restraint washed off in a fog of anguish mingled with rage. “The hell I will. If you had your way, I would be out there slinging meth on the corner and sleeping in his bed tonight, and all in the name of giving Joaquin what he wants. It must be so easy for you, since it’s not you who has to mate with him.”

Angelina yanked her arm out of his grasp and headed out of the room. Mario appeared, slinking along the ground and whimpering softly. A single glance showed her a boot print near his ribs and a long torrent of swear words came from her mouth as she sank onto the floor on her knees and gathered Mario into her arms.

She whispered, “I am so sorry. It was me he was pissed off at. You were just the weakest target.”

Mario whined, his muzzle thrusting against her neck. His hot breath washed over her shoulder, racing across the strap of her tank top and Angelina held him, tears spilling down her face.

It was getting clearer all the time that she could not stay. There was no way that she wanted to live with Joaquin as her mate. She could not even stomach having him as Alpha, and she would never bear him a child if she could avoid it. She would avoid that in any way she could—even if it meant running away.

She leaned back and stared into Mario’s eyes. His ears came forward again. His eyes often held a human expression but, more and more since Antonio had died, he had gone off on his own—traveling way up in the hills and away from the pack and the house.

She sighed. “I have an idea. Let’s take a ride up to the big hills, what do you say? We could go scope out the canyons, way over in the spots you can’t get to without me because of the freeway. You want to do that?”

Mario panted and jumped; his eagerness showing. Angelina smiled in spite of the awfulness of her situation. “Let me grab my keys and purse, okay?”

She cupped his face in her hands and whispered, “I won’t ever let him kill you, Mario. You have to believe me on that one. I won’t.”

A rough tongue swiped across her face, licking away her salty tears. Angelina stood. Mario might not be human in form, but he was intelligent. How intelligent, nobody knew. He would never communicate, not even when they were all in wolf form, and even when they were all in wolf form, he was usually left out.

Exiled for being different.

Angelina knew her promise was hollow. Joaquin would kill Mario eventually. Joaquin hated the non-shifter.

Sam and her other brothers, Harold and Benny, would say nothing. They had been conditioned from infancy to accept the word of the Alpha who had led the pack that had taken them in after they and their father had escaped the clutches of the zoo.

Like Joaquin, they would feel like they were doing Mario a favor. He was neither wolf nor shifter. He was something in between and there was no place for him in the world.

CHAPTER 2;

“Drake, man. That riff was killer. What the hell chord did you use?”

Drake grinned at his band mate Peter. “No idea, man. I call it the Hendrix chord.”

Peter swung his bass off. “Well, figure it out, because I think you went off key. If you did, we have to find a key that works with that riff.”

Drake laughed. “Says the dude with the classical education in music to the self-taught guitar player. Here, I’ll show you, and you can tell me what key it is.”

His fingers moved to form the chord, way down low on the satiny rosewood neck of his guitar, but he paused, his head tilting to one side as a faint sound drifted to his ears.

“You forget it that fast?” Pete set his bass in the holder and stretched. “I can sort of tell you from ear what strings were in it.”

“No, I just thought I heard something.”

There was no thought to it. His ears were sharper and his hearing better than a human’s. He had heard an unmistakable sound and his body tensed as he caught it yet again. Not close, not yet, but coming.

Pete said, “I think it was a barre, or at least a partial and it sounded like it was a minor… Dude, you okay?”

“Yeah sure. Just frustrated maybe.” Drake unstrapped the guitar and swung it from free from his broad shoulder with some real relief. The thing was a custom beauty made of the finest wood and parts—and it weighed a goddamn ton, or felt like it anyway.

The roar of bikes outside halted the rest of whatever Drake had been about to say.

“Looks like you got some company, man,” Pete told him. “I have to get going anyway, but let me know about the chord, because I think we need to work that in on that song. It sounded good right there—except for being off the key.”

The clash of chromed and deep-throated engines rose higher yet, making Drake’s entire body feel rigid and tight. He forced that tension away and tried to focus on Pete. “Yeah, sure. Shit. I can’t believe we lost another bunch of folks. We have to do something about finding people who want to play.”

The bikes ground to a noisy halt in the driveway of the small and slightly rundown house.

Pete stuck his bass in its case. “I guess it’s time to put new ads up. I don’t know what the deal is with assholes joining a band one day and leaving the next, but we need some real players.”

Drake could not have agreed more. “Yeah.”

Pete said, “We’re getting gigs, man, and it makes no sense. It’s like they get all spooked or something. And it’s not because you’re a biker either; we’ve had some scabby bastards come in here. I just don’t know what it is.”

Drake knew. Some people could tell he was different. They weren’t sure how and maybe it didn’t register on the top of their brains, but they damn sure knew that he was dangerous. “I dunno. We’ll figure it out.”

Pete sighed. “We better figure it out before Friday or we can kiss our gig on Saturday goodbye.”

Pete walked out, holding the door open for Drake’s twin brother, Morgan.

Morgan and Drake were identical twins, but different as night and day. Morgan had always loved being a bear shifter, and he thrived on the politics of the shifting world. Drake hated the politics and the constant wars between the different species of shifters.

In truth, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with being a shifter either. In a world run by humans and where shifters were idolized in print and film but hunted down for hush-hush science experiments in reality, there was not much room to be who he was—and what he was.

There were days when Drake didn’t even know exactly who he was. He knew what he wanted to be, but his cursed DNA made everything else seem like a mere pipe dream.

Morgan ran a hand through his brown hair, ruffling it farther. He never wore a helmet, and so his hair was windblown even before that gesture; now it stuck up in small points all over his head, giving him a fierce look that didn’t unsettle Drake in the least.

He’d been whipping Morgan’s ass for years, and he was willing to do it again if it came to that.

Drake didn’t want to deal with Morgan just then. It was obviously not a friendly little visit. If it had been, the rest of the guys would have come in as well. Of the four bikes parked in the drive, only one other was under a shifter. The two humans in the MC were old-timers, long-haul criminals who had drifted in and out of every club up and down the West Coast and even up into Canada and across to Mexico over the years. They were too hard or too stupid to smell the difference between themselves and the others, or they did and just didn’t give a fuck. Drake had no idea which.

Drake rubbed at a sore spot near his neck. “What’s up, Morgan?”

“Just thought I would come by and tell you Mom’s a little pissed that you are not returning her calls.”

In other words, Magda had sent him to deliver that very message. “I’ll bet. You do know you could have brought me a pizza or something along with that news.”

Morgan didn’t take the joke well. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Drake tilted an eyebrow and leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “Doing what?”

Morgan yanked his hair again. “It’s nobody’s fault you didn’t become Alpha…”

Drake straightened up in a hurry. “I never said it was. In fact, I was relieved I couldn’t be Alpha. My sperm is useless—no babies for me. That means no Alpha status. Lucky for you, you have very potent sperm. I’m not pissed off, and I don’t want to argue. I just want to live my life without all the bullshit infighting and warring going on.”

“You owe a loyalty to your brothers…” Morgan began.

“Which ones? The ones out there on those bikes? The humans who have no idea what we are, or do you mean to you? Or do you mean to the pack brothers? The last time I checked, I hadn’t been disloyal. You better check yourself before you come at me with that kind of bullshit, bro.”

There was a serious amount of threat in Drake’s tone. He was really sick of the bullshit, all the way around. He really didn’t begrudge Morgan the dubious honor of being named Alpha. He didn’t give three hard damns about that or anything else—except his music.

Morgan stalked toward Drake, his eyes taking on a low orange shine. His finger came out and jabbed into Drake’s chest. Drake grabbed Morgan’s hand and opened his mouth just enough to let his fangs show while his claws shot from the ends of his fingers—all sharp edges and lethal strength.

“Goddammit, Drake!” Morgan twisted his hand away but didn’t step back. “People are starting to talk. Mom’s getting nervous.”

Drake stepped even closer, cutting off all the space between them. Their chests bumped in a really aggressive way, and Morgan was the first to take a step back.

Drake said, “I couldn’t give a damn what Mom is, or about Mom.”

Morgan’s mouth went flat. “That’s a fucked up thing to say.”

Drake sneered, “She’s a fairly fucked up individual in case you had not noticed. Magda’s a lot of things—and that’s the least of them.”

Controlling, cruel, unsatisfied, angry, and bitter—those were just a few words that described Magda well. Add in a serious thirst for power—which she had not slaked by killing off the Alpha of the bear shifter pack they’d landed in when she had made her escape from the zoo.

Magda had her eyes on the real prize—all of LA, and total control of every shifter and human who lived there. She would not stop until she accomplished that. Her latest goal was killing off the Nepali tiger pack headed by her former zoo mate Patel.

Drake had no doubt that Magda had had a hand in the deaths of the Alpha of the wolf pack and his second-in-command. The second had been a good man, by all accounts, and a decent one. It was no gossip that the hood he had helped run was now a den of drugs and other illegal shit. The new Alpha was pumping a literal metric ton of dope into the neighborhood now, all of it supplied by Drake’s motorcycle club brothers—and Magda.

Naturally, Joaquin, the new Alpha, was too stupid and greedy to see what Magda was doing. His pack would either be run out or one of them would kill him off. But the hood would stay fucked and the drugs would keep sending money right back in to Magda’s pockets—and she was using that money to grease some big wheels in the city.

Morgan grated out, “Just call her.”

“Don’t come into my den and take a stand, Morgan. Not unless you aim to fight it out with me.”

Morgan’s eyes went orange again. “You owe your life to the pack. That is the law and you know this. You don’t offer your life; your life’s worth exactly zero.”

“That’s Mom talking through your mouth. You want to run up on me?” Weariness seeped into his body. Drake settled his weight on the balls of his feet while Morgan considered his decision.

Morgan finally said, “No, but you are not going to leave me much choice.”

“You mean, she’s going to order me killed if I don’t bow down and kiss her ass like everyone else.” It was not a question.

Morgan looked away, telling Drake everything he needed to know.

That was the last thing that he wanted. He didn’t need a war with his own family, and he didn’t want a war with them either. He had thought his being named as a Beta due to his sperm issue would free him. He had been wrong.

Morgan looked back at him. “Drake, just call her and make nice. She just needs…”

“She needs her ego stroked constantly.” The disgust in Drake’s voice made Morgan stiffen in a visible way that Drake did not miss.

Morgan said, “Not gonna argue that with you, Drake, but she is the—”

“One who pulls all the strings. She named you Alpha but she holds all the power, Morgan. I’d think you’d want to cut her off at some point, but I can see that you don’t. I’ll call her, but I am warning you and her, back off me. I gave my life, and now I’m out. I got exiled, remember?”

“It was a hard decision, Drake. You had to be exiled because there could not be two bears who might be Alpha. There had to be a clear delineation of power.”

Drake laughed. The delineation of power was clear. Magda held it all and would until she died, maybe even longer, if she had her way. “Yeah, sure.”

Morgan glanced around the room. “How’s the music going?”

The abrupt shift in topic was meant to disarm him. It was an old trick, one of Magda’s best, in fact. “Good, got a gig this weekend down at the Whiskey.”

Morgan said, “Hey, that’s big.”

“Yeah.” And his band had fled again, so now he had big problems to go along with that big gig. Great. Just what he needed.

Morgan ran a hand along his face. “I got to get going. Call her, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” He would, if for no other reason than just to get her off his ass while he figured out a way to get a band behind him in the next four days. Yeah, good luck with that one.

Morgan left. Drake, too restless to think or figure anything else out, made a hasty and obligatory call to Magda, who pretended that he was calling because he wanted to and not because she had just sent someone after him.

The call left Drake even more furious and out of sorts. He grabbed a pair of hiking boots and swapped them out with the sneakers he wore. Then he headed out, determined to go for a long hike and get his mind right.

CHAPTER 3:

Mario whined and danced nervously as he came out from behind the bushes he had been using to hide from a gaggle of hikers. Angelina patted his head and laughed at his expression. “I know, they suck. Come on.”

They headed up higher on the trail. It was late afternoon and the trails were clearing. Evening brought too many risks: snakes, coyotes, and timber wolves; all the warnings the group of hikers had thrown at her as she stood on the trail. She had assured them that she was coming back down soon, but she was not. She intended to climb for hours, or at least until she could breathe again without feeling the weight of the entire pack on her shoulders.

Mario took off down a deserted wash out and she let him go. He’d scent her out, or she’d scent him out eventually. Burning sensations ran through her strong upper thighs as she went higher yet. The afternoon sun faded, leaving a hint of coolness in the air. Her body tingled and loosened with each step.

She started singing. The clear air brought her voice back to her, making it rise higher in a trick that made her happier than she had been in a long time.

All she wanted out of life was to be a singer and to have some fun. She wanted to have a family, but one of her own choosing and making. The last thing she wanted was to give birth to a pup she could never love because of who its father was, and Joaquin would never let her have the music career she wanted unless he thought he could benefit from it in some way.

Joaquin. She had to do something about him and fast, too.

A man came down off the crest of a hill right ahead of her, his shadow running large and dark along the ground. Uneasiness and attraction hit at the same time. Her belly went loose at the sight of him. He was lean and muscular, his long legs set into jeans that were wrapped tautly around his narrow waist and flat hips. His shirt, a plain white tee, had gone transparent with sweat, showing off the broad sweep of his shoulders and the cut muscles of his enviable abs.

Heart pounding, and not just from exercise, Angelina halted. He did, too. They stood staring at each other. He finally said, “Was that you singing?”

She nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m Drake Welsh.”

She blinked. “The guitarist? You’re in that band… I saw you guys like two weeks ago. You’re awesome.”

“Thanks.” His teeth flashed behind full lips. Recognition stirred, and she frowned. She’d felt something when she had seen him onstage, too—she just was not sure what it was. Maybe it was the familiarity of one musician to another?

Drake said, “So—I have a gig Saturday, but most of my band flaked. It’s at the Whiskey, so you can see why it matters that I get this fixed. I could use a singer. You know anything about Silver Lake? Wait, you looking for a gig? I guess that should be my next question. Or my first.”

He laughed then. His head went back and Angelina caught a whiff of his smell, musky and masculine and something else—something primal that sent a wave of heat down her body in such intensity that her panties went damp and her nipples went hard.

“Yes, to all of that.” Stupid. That was totally stupid. Joaquin would have her head on a plate if she didn’t do what he wanted, and what he wanted left no room for music or playing a gig. It damn sure did not leave room for this strange and sexy man with the body that was wreaking havoc on hers in some way she could not define but understood was very dangerous.

Drake came closer. “Cool. Look, could you come by for a practice?”

“Yeah. When?” No. Goddamnit, what am I doing? This is beyond dumb. This is suicidal!

He asked, “You got a phone on you?”

Angelina took it out of her back pocket. Drake gave her a number, firing the digits off fast. He added, “You headed back down? It’s getting dark.”

“Yeah, I have to find Mario first though. No worries, I ‘m fine up here.”

His eyes raked her head to toe. That heat came back, spreading a crimson blush all along her upper jaw. Her breath caught in her throat. Her legs shook a little. Jesus she was so turned on!

“Okay, well call me in the morning and we’ll set up a rehearsal, see if you fit in with us.”

“Great. Thanks.” Regret hit hard as she watched him walk off. No way could she call him, even if she did have his number in her phone and even if she did want him so badly.

She wanted him. Every particle of her body was attracted to him, and there was no denying that one.

After Drake was out of sight, Angelina whistled for Mario, but he didn’t call back. Frowning, she headed down the little wash out she had seen him go down. Long purple shadows chased each other along the trails and she saw a few hares and long desert rats running form one pool of shadow to the next.

“Mario!” Her voice bounced off the rocks and stunted brush. She walked a little farther down then stopped.

A white wolf, its front paw stained with blood, lay on the path, panting hard. Angelina took in the situation quickly. The wolf was an outcast, its color making it undesirable to the wild ones. The paw had been injured by a trap, most likely. The paw didn’t look mangled, just deeply cut, but the blood had clotted now. The wolf was tired and sick though. The paw had likely gotten infected.

A low familiar whine hit her ears. Angelina watched as Mario trotted up, a freshly killed rabbit in his teeth. He dropped it in front of the wolf—a she-wolf, Angelina noted.

The she-wolf raised her head. Mario nosed the rabbit closer, whining low in his throat. It hit Angelina hard.

He had just found an exile. He was an exile. That was what he had been doing all those days and nights when he had gone out alone and come home battered and sad. He had been looking for a mate!

Angelina had a large water bottle and the collapsible bowl she used for Mario. She poured the bowl full and set it near the she-wolf, who gave a low warning growl that stopped when the she-wolf realized that Angelina was not a threat to the meal.

Mario sat nearby, his tail swishing the dust as he watched the she-wolf demolish the rabbit. When it was gone, she drank the water then laid her head back down, whimpering low in her throat.

Angelina approached slowly. She had nothing for first aid and she knew the wolf needed immediate help. She knelt, speaking gently and chuffing and whimpering so the wolf would sense Angelina’s wolfness as well, and not attack.

Mario circled the she-wolf and laid one paw over her back in a protective gesture that hurt Angelina’s heart. Tears blurred her vision as she lifted the wounded paw and found a small pocket of infection.

She lanced it quickly with the little knife she kept in one hip pocket. Pus swelled and ran, a thick and putrid flow. The she-wolf whined but did not try to bite; she sensed she was being helped and was willing to take that aid.

When as much of the infection was out as Angelina could manage, she dipped the paw into the water bowl, washing it thoroughly. The scab had opened again with the lancing and blood flowed red and thick.

Angelina tore a strip of her tank top off and bound the paw. The she-wolf would gnaw that makeshift bandage off soon enough, but the cloth would keep her paw from getting dirty again until the scab could close.

Mario darted off and came back with a palm rat. The she-wolf ate it whole, barely swallowing. She staggered to her feet and Angelina backed away. Mario looked at Angelina and back to the she-wolf. His eyes held a question.

Angelina stood. Tears stung her eyes. Mario had to find a mate, had needed to find one. This exile was his best hope, but once he was gone…

She would have no reason to stay with the pack. She had considered running away quite often, but she had been unable to leave him. Mario had needed her.

But he didn’t need her anymore.

She spoke slowly, wondering just how much human was really in Mario now, in a way she never had before. “You learned to hunt and survive out here, didn’t you? That is what you were doing. You knew you could not stay with the pack. Maybe it was fate then, us coming here. I’ll come back here, to this spot tomorrow afternoon, okay? I’ll bring stuff you might need and check her foot again.”

Mario bounded over to her and leaned against her legs for a brief moment. The she-wolf turned away. Mario went to her and then he moved in front of her, taking his place at the head of their pack of two.

Angelina stumbled back to the trail, making sure to mark her way carefully so she could find her way back. She stood at the top of the trail, tears running down her face. She took her phone back out and hit the screen with shaking fingers.

Drake answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me, the girl you met on the trails?”

“Yeah, and you know what? I was so excited I forgot to ask your name.”

Angelina wiped a hand across her raw cheeks. The hills were empty; there was no sign of Mario or the she-wolf anywhere. “It’s Angelina. Listen, I’m not doing anything tonight if you want to …whatever.”

Drake said, “I’m not quite at my car yet. How far up are you?”

“I’m on my way down now.” She was. Her feet stirred up grit and dust, and she broke into a flat-out run. “I’ll probably see you at the bottom in about half an hour.”

“I’ll wait at the lot then.”

“Cool.” Angelina hung up and ran faster, heedless of the danger of the steep incline and the serious threat of falling.

CHAPTER 4:

Drake felt that rush of desire again as Angelina stepped out of the car she had parked behind his in the driveway. She was magnificent looking with that long dark hair and tight body with curves in all the right places, but that was not the whole of it.

There was something about her, something that pulled at him in a way that could only be described as primal. She was no bear; that he knew. He would have smelled that on her. That he could be so attracted to a human was shocking in its own way. He loved women, human and shifter, but there was something but Angelina that made him want to set aside all propriety and just push her against the nearest wall then kiss her hard before shucking her clothes off.

He could nearly feel her toes digging into his calves as she climbed the length of his body, feel her short nails on his skin, her teeth in his bottom lip.

His cock thickened and stiffened yet again, making his jeans—already tight, thanks to sweat and heat—grow tighter still. He turned to the side a little, praying she would not see his erection straining below the denim.

Angelina said, “Great place.”

He looked at the house and a grin crossed his lips. “It’s all right. It’s my… home anyway.” He’d nearly said den. He walked toward the door, letting her follow him.

**

God she could play!

Drake’s eyes tracked Angelina’s fingers as she raced through a series of fingerpicking and strums, her hands steady and sure. The song they’d been playing was nearly done, and hours had passed since she had followed him into his house.

He’d never had such a hard time concentrating in his entire life.

Angelina stood, the guitar strapped over a slender shoulder. Her body was perfect, all lean angles and soft curves of breast and hips. Her ass was a metronome. She bounced with the beat and every beat made her magnificent ass lift and fall, which made it harder for him to concentrate.

They’d clicked in an audible way. Her style of playing, her husky voice, and her sense of rhythm. It was all perfect.

Bedding her would be stupid. She was perfect for the band and mixing business with pleasure was a really bad idea.

His cock was so hard he was afraid to drop the guitar though.

Angelina unstrapped the Gibson Dove he’d given her to play and set it in its case gently. “That was amazing!”

Color lit her cheeks. Her ruby lips were parted, giving him a glimpse of her pink tongue and white teeth. Her body swayed toward his, her every movement graceful, and his cock gave off a powerful pulse.

“Yeah, it’s crazy.” It was. Everything about her called to him. He’d never met a woman, shifter or human, who made him want her so much and that triggered so many reactions in his body.

Angelina said, “Man, I’d love to play with you again.”

I’d love to play with you in a whole lot of ways, and if you don’t back away I might just forget how much I want you in my band. His cock was subsiding though, enough that he dared to take off the guitar.

Immediately, he wished he hadn’t, because she moved closer yet. His cock sensed her presence and renewed its throbbing, making his jeans too tight and downright uncomfortable.

He didn’t mean to kiss her, but his arms came out and he leaned toward her. Her ripe lips met his, and he reveled in the feel of them, soft and warm and firm. His tongue streaked past her lips and hers answered his; their tongues met and twined together.

Her breath rushed into his mouth. Her body met his. Her full breasts smashed flat against his broad chest, ratcheting up the sensations already pouring through him and making him forget about everything but her and the way she felt in his arms, the taste of her mouth and the scent of her hair as it swung around her face and his.

His hands traveled along her shoulders, feeling lean muscle and supple, satiny skin that begged to be touched yet again.

His animal urges and instincts kicked in, and he felt the shift trying to happen. He fought the shift back, but he could not stem the onslaught of desire washing over his body.

His cock thrust into her pelvis and she ground her hips closer, making his ass clench and his hips jerk forward.

He broke the kiss off and picked her up, no longer caring about anything but getting her to the nearest flat surface so he could fuck her hard and fast.

His bed met their bodies. His hands stripped away her clothes to reveal creamy flesh, golden brown in hue, and then he unhooked her cute little red lace bra and her tits bounced out and into his hands, her nipples rosy discs that he had to taste.

Those nipples tightened in his mouth. Her fingers tangled into his hair as he sucked hard, making her nipples stiffen and arch. Her tits were soft but heavy and he kneaded them expertly as he suckled at her breast.

His hands tugged loose her jeans and then she kicked her boots off. Her legs spread and the scent of her arousal met his nose, spurring him onward. His mouth moved lower, his tongue running over her belly and then his face was at the junction of her thighs.

His tongue slid along her pink outer lips, parting them. Heat and fragrant oils met his tongue. He moved higher, seeking out her clit. He found it and her nails tore into his scalp. Her ass lifted and a low groan broke from his lips.

Drake was lost in the taste and smell and heat of her body. He used his tongue to pleasure her, taking her right to the brink as he slowly circled her clit with his tongue and then alternated those circles with fast back and forth motions that had her crying out his name as more fluid fell from her inner folds. Those coral-and-pink walls drew his attention as he slid his fingers deeply into her, thrusting slowly at first but increasing the speed with each withdrawal and entry.

“Oh God.” Her cry was a beacon. He slid upward, one hand already on his swollen and throbbing cock. He thrust into her, hard. Her walls cradled him, sucked him deeper inside her as she began to come, her walls fluttering and closing as she milked his cock with her body. He gave in, driving harder and harder as she came and then rolled through a series of aftershocks that caused her folds to clench and loosen around his rigid and demanding flesh.

He came. His fingers curled around her shoulders and he groaned, his body arcing and tossing.

He felt the shift happening and he tried to stop it, withdrawing from her as his thick hot seed splashed out of his body and onto her flat belly.

His eyes went feral but he held the change back.

He looked at her face, hoping her eyes would be closed.

They weren’t.

He was looking into the eyes of a wolf!

CHAPTER 5:

I can’t even believe this! Oh, my God!

Angelina rolled off the bed, her instincts kicking in. Even naked and still caught in desire’s web, she was fast. She held a hand up, holding the shift back, but barely, as she faced Drake, who had also left the bed and now stood, naked and so goddamn sexy it hurt to look at him.

Judging by the look of his shock on his face, he was just as rattled as she was. Angelina said, “You’re… you’re a shifter.”

“So are you.” His words floated across the bed at her. Angelina grabbed for her clothes. She had to get out of there, and fast. “Yeah, well, yeah. What the fuck?”

“Beats the shit out of me. I never… I didn’t know.”

Angelina yanked on clothes. Her thoughts tangled and split into fragments. “I have to go.”

“I’d rather we at least talked this out first.”

“I just slept with a bear! Are you kidding me! You want to talk… how… I didn’t know.”

“I think we have determined that.” Drake was dressing, too, his movements fast and precise. He raked a hand through his hair, sticking it up on end, which just made him look even hotter. Pulses of desire still fired off in her belly and so she let her head drop low, her eyes zeroing in on her feet. “How did we not know right away?”

“Maybe we did.”

The answer was not the one she had been hoping for. She had hoped he would say something like he was a mutie—a person with one shifter parent and one human one. Muties were harder to scent out, harder to unmask. They didn’t give off scent like shifters and in fact, many of them shifted very rarely and usually that shifting was something that only happened under bouts of extreme stress.

Drake said, “So you’re from East LA, I take it?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to be here from the moment I saw this place.” Her face heated. “Not in your house. Jesus. I didn’t mean… I mean, I don’t think what happened makes us mates, if you’re tripping on that. I meant, I love Silver Lake, and always have. This is where the music is right now—and where my pack isn’t, at least for now.”

“You running from your pack or did they exile you?”

“Neither. Both. Fuck if I know.”

Drake approached. She snarled at him, but half-heartedly. He held his hands up. “Whoa. Truce. Let’s… let’s talk. I mean, this is unusual…”

“You think?”

He pulled a face. “Okay, it happened, right? No going back. But so what? I still want you in the band and… look, I’m an exile, sort of, so I get it if you’re running or if you’ve been put out.”

What the hell was he talking about? “Sort of?”

His lips canted up. “I’m a semi-exile, I guess you could say.”

“Now’s not the time to talk in riddles, okay? I have to go. Jesus Christ, if anyone finds out about this—you could get hurt and I don’t want that.”

He looked at her, no expression on his face. “How so?”

Goddammit. She had to be honest. If she wasn’t, he would get caught in some bullshit he had never signed on for. “Drake, my dad was second in the pack over in East LA. It’s the biggest and most powerful wolf pack, as you probably know. My dad died with our Alpha; now we have Joaquin, and he’s screwing the whole hood.”

“I know.”

He knew? Of course he knew. She sighed. “I got promised to Joaquin back when I was a kid. I never had any say in it. My dad was about to call that off—he knew Joaquin was no good. But he died before he could, so his promise stands. It doesn’t matter, not to them anyway, what I want or who I don’t.”

His fingers gripped her chin and lifted it. “You don’t want Joaquin.”

“Not in my bed, not in my life, and not as my Alpha. If that means I have to be exiled, I can take that, but I have to tell you now that I can’t stay—not in your band or anything else. Joaquin’s not just selling drugs; he’s got plans to take over the city and he means to do just that. He’s power crazed and hungry. He’s also vicious, and he won’t hesitate to kill me or anyone else who gets in his way. You see, he wants kids, fast, heirs to his kingdom. Sons would cement his position, according to him, and well, our culture. It’s the whole machismo thing.”

“I get it, but I don’t want you to leave the band. Hell I need you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. He needed her in the band, but not in his life, was that what he was saying? “I know you probably can’t find another singer fast enough, but you might have to. I mean, until last night, you had no idea you had a singer and so nothing has really changed. You still need a singer.”

“I need a whole band.” His words were hard and his voice fierce. “You are one hell of a rhythm player and there’s something about us, Angelina, we just click. Not just as people but as players in the same song. I can’t promise you he won’t find you, but I can promise you if he finds you here, he won’t take you back, not without a massive fight and some death.”

Her heart sank. “That is exactly what I am afraid of. I don’t want death and blood. That’s why I don’t want to go back to the pack. There’s bound to be blood and now—well, now I pretty much put you into the middle of it. As much as I love Silver Lake,” and as much as I feel drawn to you, too, “I can’t do it. I have to go somewhere else, somewhere that Joaquin can’t touch me, or you, or anyone else I might come into contact with.”

Drake asked, “Angelina, do you want to stay here? With me, I mean?”

Shit. He really went to the heart of the matter, didn’t he? Her chin came up. “I have to go back.” She didn’t want to, but she had to. There was no way she could stay here. She had just slept with a sworn enemy, and she had a feeling that there was even more to that than met the eye. Drake was a bear shifter in exile and a biker at the same time, which meant he still rode with the MC that had bear shifters at its head. So there was definitely something he was not telling her, and she was pretty sure she did not want to know exactly what that was.

There was already too much at stake, even with Mario gone.

Mario!

She stood. “Shit. I have to get to the trails.”

Drake looked confused. “What?”

Say nothing. For God’s sake, do not give him a weapon. You don’t know if you can trust him, and you know damn well you can’t trust yourself around him!

Despite her brain’s warning, her mouth opened. “He’s my brother. He can’t shift. He’s wolf, mostly. He has never shown any sign of going human. I have other brothers, of course, all from the same litter, but Mario is the only one who doesn’t shift.”

Loss settled in, making her heart ache. She had no idea which loss was the greater—the loss of Mario to the wild or the loss of what had been a wonderful and far too brief dream of being with Drake and having the normal life she had always dreamed of, a life filled with music and passionate love.

Drake pondered that for a second. “You came from the same birthing?”

She nodded. “We did, and he can understand everything but he doesn’t speak. I was the only one he would ever try to communicate with in any way. He’s the only reason I didn’t leave before.”

“I see.”

She shook her head, sending her silky dark hair flying. “No, you don’t. You see, I was up on the trails—he had been leaving and wandering for a few years now, but he found a she-wolf and she was hurt. They left together. I promised to go back and look at her paw again. I think it was stuck in a trap at one point or another.”

“Shit, that sucks. Was she okay?”

She smiled at the real concern in his voice. “Yeah, and I will be, too.”

Drake said, “Angelina, you don’t have to go back.”

Tears threatened. She held them back. “Yeah, I do.”

She stood and wiped a hand down her side. She ached all over and not all of it was unpleasant either. The bruises from their wild lovemaking were there, just below her skin, already healing but still lightly painful. That pain would ease fast and she knew it, but she was not sure about the other pains that were careening through her just then.

There was something about Drake that made her want to stay. It was not just how they played together, or the way their bodies and voices and musical tastes blended either. He made her feel safe, something she had not felt since her father died. That was dangerous as hell, that feeling, because he was a bear and her enemy, even if she did not want him to be.

“You know we can’t, Drake. We’re sworn enemies; our kinds always have been and with good reason. We aren’t friends in nature, and we can’t be friends or anything else in this world either. Even if we thought we could be, you know damn well nobody is going to let us be. They will all come for us. Your pack and mine, and every other shifter pack—just to keep two different kinds from being together. It is not natural, and they won’t accept it. We can’t even be in the same band and you know that. It goes against everything about the laws we all have to live by.”

“I don’t care about the laws. I’m outside the pack now. I was,” he paused then said, “I was in line to be Alpha but I am sterile, or something. I couldn’t produce children and that is a requirement for Alphas in our packs.”

Angelina sucked in a breath. Her eyes searched his face. “Ours, too.” Her brain reeled at his words. He was supposed to be Alpha? That meant he was Magda’s!

Her voice held desperation. “You’re Magda’s son.”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God!” Now she was desperate to go. And fast. The last thing she needed to do was get caught up in whatever bullshit Magda was about to bring down. Antonio, her father, had had plenty to say about Magda, and none of it was very flattering. He had admired her courage and her toughness, but he had disliked, intensely, her quest for power. Magda had a serious hate on for humans, too, and that bothered Antonio. He had said, a lot, that he would not trust her if there were just the two of them left in the world because Magda was so blinded by the need to rule she would kill him in a short-sighted bid to be the last creature standing—and Angelina believed him.

Drake grasped her upper arms in his warm and calloused fingers. His touch sent thrills spilling all along the base of her spine and those little shivers raced upward. That desire came back, pooling liquid into her panties and making her squirm away before her body could betray her yet again.

He didn’t try to hold her. He let her go, but the phantom warmth of his fingers stayed imprinted on her arms. Her nipples stiffened, growing first taut and then tighter still until the hard ridges stuck up under her shirt in noticeable peaks.

Drake’s eyes flicked downward then back up. Angelina’s emotions twisted between shame and lust, and she spoke sharply. “Look, I have to go. We can’t do this. I don’t know how we didn’t know. But we know now. I have to go.”

She stalked off, her head high as she aimed her body, which wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to him as fast as it could manage, toward the front door. To her vast relief, he did not try to stop her.

**

Drake took a seat on the sofa. His brain reeled and his body ached with unmet need. The woman was a wolf, and she was right—it should have been impossible for them not to recognize each other, so, why hadn’t they?

Had he known in some small way and just overlooked it because he had been so eager to get her into first the band and then his bed? They should have called it off last night, as soon as they had figured it out, but they had not and now here he was—with no singer and no woman in his life.

Jesus Christ, it was a one-night stand. It was not like she was your life mate you fucking asshole.

The words did not help to clear his head. The smell of her lingered in the house. He sighed and stood, heading toward the kitchen to make some much-needed coffee but he paused before he got there.

She was going back to the trail, and that was all right—but what happened when she went back to East LA to join her pack? Joaquin would smell him on her and she would probably be killed.

He sagged against the doorframe as he considered that. Angelina had a death wish, maybe, or maybe she was just so desperate to get away from Joaquin and the cluster fuck her pack had become that she was willing to die for the right to be away from it. Either way, it would end with her death, and he cursed a few times then grabbed his keys from the coffee table.

She knew his car. The wolves of East LA would know his bike. It was a toss-up as to which was the worse choice to follow her in, but one thing was clear; he was going to follow her no matter what.

 

CHAPTER 6:

Angelina spent the night in a small and cheap motel, and then drove to the trails early the next morning. She was tired, confused and her thoughts were still chaotic as hell.

She hadn’t been able to go home, not with the smell of a bear still on her skin. That scent would linger. She had not been able to sleep, either, and she was glad to see Mario and the she-wolf had not gone far from where she had last seen them.

The she-wolf had a bloody trail near her muzzle, and Mario smelled of blood, so it was obvious he had been hunting to feed them again. Angelina set down the supplies she had bought at a local drugstore. “Hey, there. Um, so, Mario, can you let her know not to bite me?”

Mario gave one short bark and nosed the she-wolf closer. She limped and whimpered softly, and Angelina could see that the makeshift bandage was covered with clotted yellow stuff and thin strands of dried blood.

The she-wolf lay down. Angelina said, “Thanks,” and reached for the injured paw. The cloth came away slowly, and she winced as she looked at the cut. The infection seemed to be lessening but the cut was deeper than Angelina had imagined.

She cleaned it quickly and then took a deep breath. “Mario, I need to stitch it. I got these little glue stitches, but she has to be very still.”

Mario lay down beside the she-wolf, wrapping one arm over her in a gesture that many dogs, domesticated and street, used to show they were protecting another. Angelina said, “You two are a cute couple, did I tell you that yesterday?”

She had been worried that Drake’s smell might put the two wolves off, but it didn’t seem to. After she had applied the stitches, Angelina just sat there on the sun-warmed earth, waiting for the stuff to dry and looking at Mario.

He had changed, seemingly overnight. That human expression was still in his eyes, but there was a new wildness in there, too.

“It won’t be long, will it? You’ll go all the way wild, and you will either forget me or you will just not remember me on purpose. It’s okay, I understand.”

Mario regarded her. Angelina frowned. “Mario, I can’t come back. Those stitches will hold and they dissolve on their own after a while, so it’s no biggie there. I think your mate here is going to be fine, and so are you but I… well, I have to figure out what to do.”

She sighed. “I can’t stay in the pack, and I can’t run from them either. I am going to have to fight. I don’t want to, and I came up with a hundred schemes to stay out of a battle, but you know what? I can sense one coming, and I’m scared. I think the fight that is coming is way bigger than just the one between me and Joaquin. I think there’s a shifter war coming, and Joaquin is part of it. I think he is setting us up to be killed off so he can gain control. I have to stop him; I just do not know how.”

Oh, but Drake could help her with that, if she just let him—or could trust him. Not that she could do either. He was a bear and her enemy. Even if the two of them were able to get past that—he was Magda’s son, and Magda had a huge hard on for power. No way was she going to let any son of hers go rogue and outside the laws of nature and shifter.

The sun beat down on her head, and Angelina sat there for a long time. She poured water for the wolves and they drank. Then, slowly, Mario got up and made a low sound in his throat. He gave Angelina one last look and then he began to walk away. The she-wolf stood, also looking at Angelina for a moment. Her eyes held pain as she set her paw on the earth but she stepped down anyway and then turned to follow Mario.

“Goddammit. If I believed in omens, that would be one.” Angelina cleaned up the mess, burying the cloth and shifting sand and rocky soil over the remains of the bloody and gross water she had used to clean the paw. “I mean, she’s following him no matter how painful. Great. Good for her. They are both wolves so…”

She blinked. That was not true. Mario was not full wolf. He was something else, something outside nature. The she-wolf had let him choose her anyway, either because she was weak and needed him or because she was alone and any mate was better than none, or because the two of them were both outcasts and alone and a pack of two was still stronger than a solitary creature.

She started walking. She had choices and they were clear.

Drake wanted her—and she hated Joaquin. She knew she could not truly trust either of them, but could she trust Drake enough to try to have something with him? If she did, she would be able to at least indulge her love of music. Drake would not have her out on a corner acting as lookout or slinging dope. He would not tell her music was a waste of her time and life. He would never tell her to shut up and learn her place because if they were together, there were no rules for whatever they created. What they would be together was something that had never been done before.

She got in the car, cranking down the windows to release some of the heat that had gotten trapped within it. The sun baked the trails, sending long shimmers of heat mirages up. Angelina rested her head in her hands.

Everyone would be out of the house. Now was the perfect time to grab her stuff and run. She had friends in Silver Lake. She had some money set aside. She had a need to go. Exiling herself was the only option, but that would guarantee she was hunted. Joaquin would think nothing of crossing territory lines if she did. That would absolutely start a war, and she didn’t need that on her hands or conscience.

“So where the hell do I go?”

The question hung in the still air. Angelina cranked the car, muttering, “First, I go get my stuff. Then I go somewhere, anywhere. Not Silver Lake, and not into tiger territory. That leaves plenty of places. I hear Torrance is nice this time of year.”

She headed down the road, not noticing the motorcycle hanging back behind her, its rider carefully tailing her as she headed east.

**

The house was quiet. Angelina killed the engine and stepped out, her eyes scanning the front of the house. It was actually three houses that had connecting breezeways. The pack owned most of the street, and they had always taken pride in it and the neighborhood back before Joaquin had come to power. Now it looked seedy and sad, and there were broken bottles near the curbs. The old folks who lived a few streets over were overwhelmed by the new drug dealers and the addicts, by the heavy traffic of cruising cars whose passengers were looking to score and the unsavory element of pimps and hookers looking to be close to the illegal action.

Uneasiness swept over her as she walked toward the door. She scented the air but there were too many scents, both old and new, for her to be able to tell if Joaquin was there or not.

She paused, listening hard, still trying to smell him out, but there’d been a lot of traffic in and out of the house, as usual. She could smell him, and it was a strong fresh smell, but she could not tell if it was hours or minutes old due to the scents mingled with his.

Her eyes went back to the driveways and street. His car—a huge restored ’66 Caddy, was nowhere in sight. Joaquin didn’t allow anyone to drive his baby so he had to be gone.

Her fingers turned the key into the lock. Angelina didn’t close the door. She stood there, still listening and sniffing. Nothing. The smell of garlic and onions, eggs, and tomato hung in the air. Someone had cooked breakfast at some point then. Her belly rumbled at those scents, reminding her she had not eaten since yesterday afternoon.

She dashed to her bedroom. She closed the door and grabbed a bag. There was little she wanted beyond her clothes and the few photos she had of her and her family. It took all of about ten minutes to toss her shoes, the ones that were still in good shape, her clothes, and those pictures into the bag. She grabbed the old acoustic guitar. Its strings, stirred by the small breeze she created when she picked it up, chimed softly, a light whisper of sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and goose bumps break out all over her skin.

She turned, her eyes going to the closed door. Was she imagining things or had she heard something out there, a creaking floor or a hasty step?

She hesitated but heard nothing for a few long seconds. Her eyes went to the door handle. She had locked it automatically, and her heart hammered hard in her chest as she saw the knob turn in a slow but deliberate way, one that she was most decidedly not imagining.

Joaquin’s scent came clear. Her pulse slid upward, and she moved fast. She went to the window, which she had left unlocked the night before, and looked out. The backyard was empty. The faint snick of the lock turning came again. Joaquin was trying to get in, and he was deliberately trying to do it very quietly. What was more—he had hidden his car so she would not know he was there.

The onions and garlic had been meant to mask his smell. She knew that now. Angelina tossed her bags out and went out behind them. She grabbed her stuff, slinging the bags over her shoulders and gripping the old neck of the guitar in one hand as she ran around the side of the house, her feet kicking up small pebbles.

The front door burst open just as she reached her car. Joaquin came roaring out. His face was contorted with rage and even from where she stood, Angelina knew he was two seconds away from shifting right there in the street and be damned to anyone who might see.

A loud roar from the exhaust of a motorcycle cut the air. The bike raced closer, cutting across curbs and the driveway, cutting Joaquin off just as he headed for her and her car.

Angelina wrenched her door open and slid inside, slamming the door hard as the rider, whose face was hidden below a large helmet with a dark face guard, kicked out one long leg. Joaquin, unable to run forward without running right into the back end of the spinning bike, halted, but his shout was long and loud. Angelina could hear that cry over the roar of her car’s engine.

She hit the gas and reversed quickly. The bike kept slewing in circles. She did not know who that was but she hoped whoever it was had the good sense to get the hell out of there and fast.

Damn! She paused, wavering with indecision. She should make sure whoever that was didn’t get killed by a ticked-off wolf. Before she had time to fully form that thought, a new one hit.

At first, she had thought that the biker had lost control of the chrome beast and was just spinning wildly, but now she realized that spinning was an act of utter and total skill, and the man on that bike was using that skill to get between her and Joaquin!

“Thanks,” she muttered, slammed the car into drive, and hauled ass.

The bike stopped spinning. The rider cut a wide arc and ended up on the other side of the street, going too fast for Joaquin to catch up even if he shifted and ran wolf-like after the bike.

Angelina knew all the shortcuts out of the hood and she took them. She kept an eye on her rearview and saw the biker fall in behind her, the sun gleaming off the helmet and the heavy black leather jacket.

Drake.

It had to be Drake!

They careened out of the neighborhood and ended up in a side street that would dump them off an exit and on the crowded freeways just beyond. There was no time to stop. She had to keep moving and make sure that Drake—and she was positive that it was Drake now—did not get caught by Joaquin, who had obviously been about to either rape her to force her to be his mate or kill her.

If she had to bet, she would guess the former. Joaquin would do anything to prove how powerful he was, and he knew she did not want him. As long as she refused to mate with him, he could do nothing but if he got her with child, it was a whole different ballgame.

The bike roared up beside her car. Drake flipped the visor up and he shouted, “Take the third!”

The third exit would lead them to Beverly Hills or beyond, out to Sherman Oaks. Scared and worried now, and knowing Silver Lake was not an option at the moment, she nodded. Drake fell into traffic just ahead of her. The traffic slowed. A snarl was up there somewhere. Sweat trickled down her face as she considered the situation.

Joaquin might be following them, but in her car her scent was too narrow. There was too much traffic and all its stink to make it possible for him to track her that way.

Silver Lake was dangerous because she would be a wolf in bear territory. Drake might have given off his scent, and if Joaquin knew that the man on the bike was a bear that would be the first place he headed. He wouldn’t be able to scent track Drake either, not unless he went to ground and sniffed Drake’s house out, but shifting to track in wolf form was too risky even for Joaquin.

He had contacts with Magda though. Angelina knew that. Joaquin’s major supplier of heroin and other dope was the bikers that Magda ran from her house over in Silver Lake. Would Magda turn on her own son?

Probably—especially since he was not Alpha and his twin brother was. Damn, how had she forgotten that? Her father had told her that, last year. That one of the twins had been displaced as Alpha for the other. He had not known why, but he had worried about it. Now Angelina found herself wondering, too.

They reached the hills. Angelina’s hands were slick with sweat as she turned the wheel to follow Drake down a long and winding road that raced along a steep gorge before dropping out to a flatter and more level stretch that he took at a surprisingly fast speed.

He pulled up at the gates of a small house and hit a button. The gates opened, and he pulled in with her right on his heels.

Angelina got out of the car. “What the hell was that?”

Drake lifted the helmet off. Sweat made his hair stick to his head and his face glisten. He unzipped the jacket, pulling it off to reveal his broad and fit upper body. The bike sat between his legs, held their by the sheer strength of his lower body and a wave of heat crashed over her yet again. Her mouth went dry. Goddamn, that was so sexy. Him, the bike, the sweat, the stubble on his jaw, the piercing gaze—all of it.

Drake leaned closer, cutting off all thought but not the lust. The lust just intensified. A little bead of sweat hung in the tiny little hollow of his throat, begging to be licked away. Her fists clenched, and her stomach filled with butterflies trying to wing their way out.

“That was me saving your ass. I saw him coming down that little hall between the houses, and I knew it was him. I decided to circle the block, see if you came back out. When you didn’t, I rode a little farther up and waited. I was going to give you a half a minute more when I saw you come running around the back with all your stuff and figured you must have outrun him. I also figured he was going to come out next, so I decided to stall him so you could bolt.”

“Thanks.” She rubbed her arms up and down her arms. Now that she was not in present danger, the adrenaline died out, leaving her tired and limp.

“You hungry?”

Her eyes went to the house they were parked in front of. “Are we breaking into this house?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

“Only if we get caught.”

His lips canted upward. “There’s that.”

“I’d rather not go to prison. You know, all things considered.”

“I can see where you could disrupt the hell out of the general population.”

The joking made her relax, her muscles loosen and the tension ooze away from her neck and shoulders. “Ditto. For real, if we are about to engage in some B&E, you had better hope there’s food in there.”

“There is. It belongs to my bass player, Pete.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah, getting a rich kid in your band’s sort of the new trend.”

Just then, the door opened and a scrawny guy with dark brown hair and a sallow face appeared. “What’s up, dude?”

“Not much; just thought I’d check in with you and introduce you to someone. She’s a hell of a singer.”

Was he kidding? “I’m not. I mean I’m a singer but I’m not…” She glared at Drake, who just grinned back at her.

Pete said, “Okay then.”

Drake said, “Dude, we’re starving.”

“I got some steaks. I was about to toss one on the grill and it would be no biggie to add a couple more.” Pete jerked his head toward the door.

The house was a post and beam thing with long wide windows and designer furniture. The pool was right outside the back door, and Pete led them that way, making a brief stop at the kitchen to grab some steaks from the fridge.

They stepped out into an outdoor kitchen that would have made a gourmet chef green with envy, but Angelina was more interested in the thick and marbled meat that Pete laid on the gas grill than wondering if that counters were the granite they seemed to be.

Pete finished laying the steaks out and added a few potatoes to the grill then pointed the way to the fridge that held some really good wine and beer. Drake seemed to know the way pretty well. He took out a bottle of red, uncorked it and poured three glasses.

“Thanks.” Their fingers met as Angelina made to take the glass he offered to her. She turned her face down quickly so he wouldn’t see the naked desire playing out in her eyes. She needed him to not know how she felt. She had to figure out what to do next. She did not need the crazy emotions and physical attraction Drake kept bringing up in her.

“Welcome.” Pete stretched out on a chair and asked, “So you sing?”

“I do.” The words were reluctant. Her fingers curled around the stem of the glass. The sun lay thick and heavy on her head and shoulders, and she turned her face up to it.

Pete asked, “You any good?”

“Man, you should hear her. She can play rhythm, too.”

Drake sure was pushing hard—wasn’t he?

“We tried it, like me and him, but I don’t think it will work,” she said.

Pete said, “Oh. Shit. That is too damn bad. I don’t know what it is about Drake, but he seems to run people off left and right for some reason. No idea why—he’s a good dude but he scares folks or something.”

Her eyes met Drake’s. His held a troubled expression. The wine warmed as her fingers moved up to cup the glass. “I get that. Sometimes people are jerks.”

Or they sensed the difference and got scared—or mean. Sometimes both.

There was something Drake’s eyes that triggered a feeling of kinship. He was running away, too. He didn’t want to be a part of his pack. He wanted a life filled with music and normalcy. So did she. But they were different and always would be. They could never escape that, no matter how hard they tried.

The food was delicious, and she was starving. After the meal was over, they went inside. Pete had a whole room dedicated as a music space and Angelina took one look at all the gear and went to go get her guitar.

I’ll just play with them today, but that’s not a promise to be in the band. She settled onto a low sofa with the guitar over her legs.

Drake wrote down the lyrics and the chords to a song. “Can you just strum along? Don’t worry about trying to figure out a pattern just yet, just do the chords on the time and sing the words?”

“Sure.” Angelina looked down at the paper and nodded. “I need a capo though. I suck at the B minor chord.”

He laughed. “I hate that chord. I always capo the third and play it with the G, C, and so forth.”

“You could have just written that down,” she teased as she grabbed a pen and began to make the changes on the paper.

Drake said, “Well, I had to know if you’d try, anyway.”

“We had a guy who was a piano player turned guitarist, and he insisted on playing the hardest chords because he could. Drove us nuts,” Pete added.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” Angelina blinked. What am I saying? This has to be the last time I play with Drake, in every way. I can’t be with him!

She shook that off. There was far too much uncertainty going on right now. Music was static, it was a good thing, and she needed it just then, and badly.

Her fingers met the frets and formed the chords. Notes rang out. The supple strings bent and she closed her eyes, getting the sense of the rhythm from Pete’s throbbing bass lines and Drake’s long string of melodies. She strummed along instinctively, putting some sixteenth note strums in, varying the pattern.

When they reached the end and started the song over, Angelina began to sing, her husky voice lingering over the melody and then wrapping around the words and sliding behind the beat.

The song ended. Pete let out a whoop and said, “Hell, yes! Man, you’re awesome!’

“You’re awesome,” Angelina said. “You can really play that bass!”

Pete grinned. “Now if we could just find a decent drummer before Saturday!”

Drake said, “I had a guy call me earlier. I could call him back and see what he says—if he wants to come jam or whatever.”

Now was the time to bow out. Now was the time to say she couldn’t stay.

Angelina knew that, and she knew she should speak up.

But all she said was, “That would be great.”

“Hey, man, do you mind if we stay here for a few days?” Drake asked Pete.

“No, why would I?” Pete replied.

Angelina caught Drake’s eye. She knew what he was thinking. If Joaquin dared to go to bear territory to find her, he’d find nothing. Her scent at Drake’s would have dissipated by now and a few days at Pete’s, high in the hills where shifters did not go, would be the perfect way to keep him off their trail.

But what would happen when they did get found and caught?

 

CHAPTER 7:

The Whiskey was packed. The band, with its new lineup that included Angelina, Drake, Pete, and Zeke, the new drummer—an eager and hyper guy fresh off the bus and from a tiny town somewhere in Idaho—stood in the miniscule dressing room located down a dingy hallway in the back of the Whiskey. The night’s headliners had the big dressing room and their entourage spilled down the musty concrete hallway, making one hell of a drunken racket.

Angelina took a long breath, trying to steady her nerves.

Drake put a hand on the back of her neck. “You okay?”

The warmth and weight of his hand on her nape helped a little. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

It was true. The last month between the day where she had fled Joaquin and her pack had gone by in a blur. She’d moved in with Drake and so far they had managed to keep everyone at bay, even his MC, but she knew that could not last long. The gigs they were playing had been all that she had allowed herself to think about.

She spent her days and nights in a haze of making music with the band and love with Drake. It was a special moment, a long and winding time where she could actually believe that everything was going to be okay even with all the obstacles in front of them.

Drake’s bear-ness didn’t show most of the time, and she kept her wolf-ness out of sight, too. There were times when that was harder than others but she was in full-on survivor mode, desperate to keep both her and Drake safe.

The emcee was speaking and the runner, an older man with a shock of gray hair and a heavily tattooed right arm, stuck his head into the dressing room. “Time, guys.”

Angelina grabbed her guitar and held it tightly. Drake gave her a wide smile. Pete, usually cool and collected, stumbled and nearly tripped over his own feet. Zeke gulped and jerked a few times, his eyes showing his nerves.

“Cool out, dude,” Pete said. “We’ve been here before.”

Zeke didn’t look too convinced. He just swallowed a few times and nodded. Drake whispered into her ear, “That guy’s nervous every time. I don’t know if he’s going to make it if we make it big.”

She chuckled. Once onstage, Zeke was a wonder. Drake knew it, too.

“I love it that you think we’re going to make it big,” she told him.

“I know we are.” His eyes held determination. “How could we not?”

It was their dream. To hit it big and play all the big arenas. It wasn’t the money. Drake didn’t care about money, and Pete didn’t need it. Zeke was about money and maybe even the fame. She and Drake were in it for something else, for the sheer pleasure of getting to play. The more people in the audience, the better, because both of them fed off that energy in a way that was both wonderful and wild. It often sent them straight to bed, their bodies and hearts eager to shed some of the crazy, electrically charged excitement that always filled them after a gig.

The audience was already hyped up. It was like walking into a party that had already started and as soon as they hit the stage, Angelina felt the charge of it all.

Her guitar was poised, and she looked at Drake, who nodded and called out a one, two, three count before they charged into their first song, rocking it out in a hard and fast groove.

Pete played tight in the pocket, and Zeke kept perfect time. They had gelled in a way that was inexplicable and magical. Drake, with his guitar slung across his body and hanging low, strode across the stage—beyond hot in a pair of black leather pants and a plain white tee that outlined every inch of his smoking body.

Just looking at him made her want to grab him and haul him off to a dark corner. He prowled closer, all drive and thrusting hips, flashing fingers and wailing strings. Her voice and his blended, their guitars making a perfect counterpoint and harmony to each other.

The set was short, just thirty minutes, but for those thirty minutes, Angelina forgot about everything but Drake and the music and the crowd.

She was soaring when they got off stage and headed back to their dressing room. Drake grabbed her hand and asked, “Should we go watch the other band?”

She nodded eagerly. They cased their gear and hauled it out the back door and into the van then dashed back inside and down the hallway, just in time to watch the headliners take the stage.

Drake caught her in his arms and they started to dance. Angelina let go.

Her body swayed to the beat and met his. The ever-present desire between them intensified with every note and heavy bass beat. His hands rested low on her hips and she laughed as she collided with his body, her crotch meeting his.

He grabbed her up in an embrace and hauled her off the floor, spinning her in a slow circle for good measure while she laughed, her fingers clutching his broad shoulders.

The small hallway was empty. The wall scratched at her back through her damp tank top. His fingers wound into her hair, fisting it, and her breath caught in her throat as his mouth slanted down on hers, claiming her mouth in a long and furious kiss.

Her body arced toward his, and his hands slid into the waistband of her skirt then out, his hand going up her thigh and leaving a trail of shivering flesh in its wake.

Her skirt bunched around her waist. Her panties were thrust to one side. Her fingers found the buttons on his jeans. This was going to be fast and hard, and she wanted that as much as she wanted to dance and sing and be alive.

His staff met her hand, pulsing and thick. Her shoulders dug into the wall as she climbed up his body, her legs twining around his waist while his hand positioned his cock at her opening and then he thrust upward into her, filling her so completely that it took her breath away.

Heat and friction exploded in her clenching core. His lips muffled her cries. Her body lifted and she slid downward again, impaling herself on his cock, taking it all in and then swinging her hips in a slow revolving circle before lifting again, reluctantly releasing him so she could plunge downward again.

His cock pressed against the sides of her inner folds. Heated oil, creamy and thick, spilled from her body and coated his rigid flesh, easing his passage into her as she continued to lift and drop, her hands braced on his shoulders now as she strained to reach the orgasm hurtling toward her at top speed.

Her walls clenched and tightened, sucking him into her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her fingernails bit into his shoulders. His tongue met hers and his breath blew into her mouth. Her pants became faster and harder. The scent of their sex came to her nose, making her even hotter.

Crying out now, coming and shuddering, her inner walls closing and opening as thick spurts of cum poured out of her body, all she could do was hold on while he moved faster.

His groan was guttural and loud, echoing down the short hallway.

Angelina hung there, pinned against the wall on his cock, her body slowly cooling as he braced a forearm on the wall and tried to get his breath back.

When he could move again, he lowered her gently to the floor. She looked up at him and then burst into laughter.

Drake gave her a confused look. “What?”

“I was just wondering what we’d do if we were in a big arena with dozens of people around us and we couldn’t do this,” she teased.

Drake gave her a mischievous grin. “Baby, I swear to you those are going to be some shocked people.”

She laughed all the way back out and onto the dance floor.

CHAPTER 8:

Angelina sat up, her shoulders gleaming above the crumpled and messy sheets. “Bikes,” she said. The thread of fear in her voice caught Drake’s attention.

“I heard them.”

Her breath hissed in, hard. “Your guys, I take it.”

He nodded. They had to show up eventually. I’ve been too busy with her and the band and I haven’t been riding, and they want to know why. He threw the sheets aside and slid out of bed. Angelina was already up and out, too, grabbing for the clothes she had worn the night before, which now lay on the floor.

He was not afraid, not for himself, but he knew that if Morgan smelled her, he would react and fast. Morgan didn’t have the senses that Drake had—and he had managed to overlook her shifter, but Drake couldn’t guarantee that Morgan or one of the older bears riding in the MC would do that, too.

Angelina didn’t have to be told that. He could see on her face that she was scared. “Stay here. I’m going outside, okay?”

She nodded, but he saw her gaze dart around the room, either looking for a weapon or a way out.

He strode out, his thoughts churning as he wrenched open the door and stepped outside into the early morning sunshine.

Morgan swung a leg off his bike and came storming up. “Where the fuck were you last night? I kept trying to call you.”

“At a gig, a big one. One that was important to me.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Hell’s breaking loose, Drake, and you better get your shit and ride right now, because we have tigers in the hood, and what’s more—we got a few wolves upsetting the whole apple cart, so to speak. It seems that Joaquin’s sure that one of ours has his mate, and is calling for war.”

Shit. Drake didn’t let his eyes drift to the house. “You’re kidding.”

“Fuck, no, I’m not. Magda’s calling for order or death, and she doesn’t care which.”

“Of course, she doesn’t. She’s been itching for war for years.” Goddammit. “Let me grab my keys.”

He headed back into the house and grabbed a jacket and his keys. He went into the bedroom. Angelina stood near the door, a baseball bat in her hands. He held up his hands. “Don’t swing, I’m unarmed.”

Angelina’s eyes flicked over his shoulders. There was distrust in every line on her pretty face and in every rigid angle of her body. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to get somewhere safe and let me know where you are.”

“What’s happening?”

She was not going to let him off the hook then. “I don’t have time to explain it, but we have tigers in the hood and…”

“Joaquin.”

No use in lying. “That, too. I have about three seconds before Morgan crashes into the house. I have to go. Let me know where you are; promise me you will. In fact, I want you to go to Pete’s. He’ll let you hang, and he won’t try anything crazy. He won’t even ask for a reason—he’s that kind of dude.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Not quite a promise, and he knew it. He wanted to press, but time was running out. He turned to go then paused and swept her into a quick embrace, pressing his lips to hers before heading back out.

His thoughts tangled and ran too fast for him to make any order of them. He had to protect her and right now the best way he could do that was to ride, and to get her out of the house and out of the way.

Drake swung a leg over his boke. Everyone else was waiting. He hit the switch and the engine roared into life, the powerful motor purring and rumbling below his body. His hands found the handlebars, and he let the idle ratchet up a little higher.

Morgan led the way, Drake falling in right behind him.

Resentment gnawed at him. He had never wanted to be Alpha, and that was the honest truth. He did not resent Morgan for being Alpha either, but he damn sure resented being ordered around and never being able to live his own life without the constant reminder of loyalty to a pack he didn’t really want to be a part of. He also resented the fact that he was a rider in a club comprised of criminal activity that could, and likely would, one day result in a prison sentence for him.

There was no doubt in Drake’s mind that if shit went wrong, he would be called upon to take the fall for Morgan, because Morgan was Alpha and they were twins and that was what Magda would demand.

His life was not his own, would never be his own.

The air ran across his body, and he kept the bike tooling along at a high speed. Morgan was careless and wild on the back of a bike, just like he was careless and wild in every other way.

Morgan thrived on the criminal element of his life. He loved it and the pack. He loved being Alpha, but unlike Joaquin and Magda, he was not power hungry, or willing to do whatever it took to get and keep power, which was probably his best and saving grace.

They hit the end of the hood, riding hard along the narrow and crooked streets. The houses, all middle-income and ranch style on that end, lay huddled under the splashes of sunlight and shade from the tall palm trees dotting the yards.

Morgan lifted a hand. Drake looked forward, and his senses lit up. There, sitting at an outside table at a little café, was a man they both knew all too well. The bikes turned and Drake leaned over his handlebars as he goosed the bike up higher, racing along behind Morgan as Morgan waved a hand again, telling the others to split off and go to the right, a move that would cut off the man if he tried to run and make sure that if he had anyone at his back, they would know it. Plus, that would give Morgan and Drake the ability to speak with the tiger shifter in private, a boon.

Drake and Morgan coasted to a halt near the curb. The man stood and walked toward them, a smile on his wrinkled face.

Drake said, “Patel, you’re in the wrong hood.”

“I knew you would scent me, and I am not running, now am I?”

Morgan cut off his bike. Drake did the same. They’d have to keep shouting otherwise, and this was not a conversation they wanted anyone else to hear. The rest of the café patrons were far enough from the actual curb and traffic was heavy enough to cover their words, as long as they spoke softly.

Drake eyed Patel, who was old now, a wizened man with weathered skin and dark eyes.

“What do you want and how dare you come into our territory?” Morgan asked.

“I was looking for something.” Patel lifted a hand and for a second long and sharp claws showed at the ends of his fingers. “Your mother is too busy trying to take over the world to see what is happening in her own backyard, so I came to see for myself.”

Drake’s body tightened. He shot Morgan a look. He wanted to tell Patel to talk, but Morgan was Alpha so that had to come from him. Drake’s toes tapped at the asphalt impatiently while he waited for Morgan to speak.

Finally he did. “What’re you talking about, Patel?”

The old Nepali tiger shifter lifted his chin. “The muties are rising. All over LA, they’re starting to get a little angry. They’re being accused, and there’s talk of burning out mutie hideouts.”

Shit. Patel had to be kidding! Who the hell was threatening to do that? Drake looked at Morgan again, trying to read his face. Morgan was not privy to all of Magda’s shady political stunts, but it was not exactly a well-kept secret that Joaquin and Magda were in business, if not in bed, together.

Morgan asked, “Who’d burn out the mutie hideouts and why?”

Patel rolled his head on his shoulders, a cunning look on his wrinkled face. “So, you really don’t know? I’ll tell you then. Joaquin swears his mate got taken by a bear mutie. It sounds to me like he’s picked a fight, and now we’re all in it, whether we want to be or not.”

Tension tightened up Drake’s shoulders. “Why’s this your reason to come here again? I mean, if he caught the scent of a bear mutie, what does that have to do with us? We have no muties in our ranks and if Joaquin picks a fight, how is it ours?”

Patel’s face showed impatience. “Joaquin knows the muties are dying to start a war. They are just looking for a reason. His mate being snatched by a mutie seems like a damn good reason to start a war with them, and he has already started to push at them. He’s sticking a sword into a hornet’s nest.”

She’s not his mate. She never made that promise, her father did. Drake blanked that thought out of his mind before his anger could show on his face.

Morgan frowned. “How so, and why is any of this your, or our, problem? We don’t suffer muties; we set them out as soon as they are born, just like we all do.”

Patel’s eyes swept across the twin brothers, a spark of rage in those dark orbs. “I don’t know where the girl is, and I would not care, except for the fact that Joaquin’s using her running off with what he swears is a bear mutie as an excuse to try to wage war.

“We all know that there’s a lot of muties with something against me and mine. We were the ones who outlawed their being in the packs originally, and we were the ones who ordered all muties be sent away at adulthood—left without a pack. Then we were the ones who decreed that the muties should be sent to fosters when they were children to avoid the heartache caused by sending them off later.

“The muties have a score to settle with the tigers. We know this. We watch them. Joaquin’s pushing at them will end in war, and when it does, the hatred the muties have for mine will result in bloodshed. Maybe enough bloodshed that Joaquin can swoop in and take over; he might have the numbers to quell the muties, and indebt us in doing so.”

Drake’s mind staggered at the possibilities. Patel was right. Joaquin was the only Alpha with a pack large enough to hold off the muties, who outnumbered the shifters to a large degree.

His blood ran cold as he considered all the angles. That’s his reason on the top of it all, but the truth is he wants the tiger’s hood for its assets, and Magda also wants that territory for the same reason so she won’t ally herself with the tigers if the muties break loose. Joaquin has enough numbers to back them off from East LA, but once the blood goes to spilling, the muties won’t stop. They hate us, and always have, and if they can’t get at Joaquin, they really will go after their first enemy, and the bears will be next.

“You don’t let in dope or crime,” Morgan said softly. “There’s not enough money in your territory for it to be attractive. Besides, if the muties come after the shifters—and that’s a fight that’s been brewing for decades—you know we will have no choice but to band together. Joaquin knows it, too.”

Patel’s eyes glittered dangerously. “But would he? Would Magda allow you to band with me and mine? Or would she and Joaquin just watch my territory burn before they stepped in? I think it’s the latter. You can adore your mother all you like, but I see her game plan. She wants legit businesses and we have them. If she controlled that, and the drug trade and whatever else you are into, she would have a good way to launder money and everything else.”

Morgan snarled, “Watch your tongue, old man, or you might just lose it.”

Drake’s hand met Morgan’s arm. “Chill out,” Drake said softly. “He’s speaking the truth and you know it. Magda’s desperate for legit businesses she can stash money into. I don’t know if she wants yours, Patel, but I’m willing to concede that but nothing else, so watch your tongue. I may have little love for Magda, but Morgan’s my brother and Alpha. I’ll back him up even if he chooses to kill you right here on the sidewalk.”

He would, too. He would have to.

The expression on Morgan’s face didn’t change. “Is the girl with a mutie?”

“I don’t know if she is with a bear or not.” Patel’s smile was thinly bladed as a knife edge. “But I’m quite sure there may be some truth to her having run off with… someone. If she did, she deserves to be brought to justice for breaking the laws that govern us all. No shifter may mate outside its species.”

Drake’s blood ran cold as Patel’s eyes met his. The old man seemed to be talking directly to him. Was he? Did Patel know about him and Angelina? The old bastard was a slick fucker, always sticking his nose into business best left be. Curiosity and cats and all that.

Patel went on, “What I do know is she isn’t planning on going back.”

“You think not?” Morgan’s body shifted slightly, his weight going to the balls of his feet. Drake dropped his hand. Morgan was listening now, and not so tense. Thank God. Drake wanted to hear whatever Patel had to say next.

Patel snorted. “I know she isn’t. The non-shifting wolf—it’s gone. The girl was apparently fond of it, as it was a litter mate. Again, I don’t know if there is any truth to the bear thing, mutie or otherwise, but I tend to believe it’s just a cause to come into my grounds.

“If Joaquin isn’t satisfied. If the girl’s not returned, and the muties are prodded into war that effects my territory, I’ll bring full war to you, Morgan, and all of yours—humans and shifters alike. That’s a promise.”

Morgan looked at Drake. “That’s only fair, but you have no proof that the girl’s with a mutie. You also have no proof that Magda and Joaquin are plotting to take your territory. Besides, Magda wouldn’t grant permission for Joaquin to take over your territory even if you did have to wage war with the muties and even if that war left your kind on the run and your hood open for that.”

Patel’s teeth showed sharp and pointed. “She does not have the power to grant permission, you mean. Remember that. Magda has no permission or power to run things in my territory, but she would absolutely turn her head and pretend she did not see Joaquin breaking the territory pacts if it gave her something she wanted. If she could manage to take over my ground after a war, she would set one in motion. Magda’s not the only problem right now though, and I came here to not only tell you what I see Joaquin and Magda attempting, but to tell you we all have a bigger problem at hand.”

Drake broke in, “The muties.”

Patel nodded. “It’s going to be a war. They hate us, and they hate humans. We’re all things they hate and they outnumber us. We need to band together right now, not fight, at least not until we solve this problem.”

Morgan said, “I’ll send you an answer on that. For now, I want you out of my territory. Don’t breach it again, Patel, not unless you’re given permission to do so.”

Goddammit. Morgan’s smarting and letting it show. He’s Alpha in name only and everyone knows that Magda still pulls all the strings. It’s eating at his pride, and Patel just cut his pride, too. This won’t stay chill unless Patel gets out of here.

Patel headed for the small compact car he had parked along the curb. He drove off. The bikes came roaring back down the road.

“You better get that girl out of your house, Drake. Like yesterday,” Morgan said under his breath.

What? Drake’s eyes jerked to Morgan’s.

Morgan gave him a weary smile. “You smell like wolf. Do you think Patel didn’t notice? For all his talk, he will switch sides in a heartbeat and you know it. Trusting him’s like trusting a busted engine to get you down the road.”

He did smell like Angelina. He’d been careless. His heart sank as he realized that. He might have just given her location up, especially if Patel decided to run to Joaquin and tell him in a bid to buy time.

Where did she go? Is she okay? Is she going to call me or just run?

The last thought made his heart crack. He could not stand the idea that she might not, that she might decide to cut her losses and just keep going.

She had to contact him. She had to. He needed her in his life and in the band—and in his bed and heart.

Shaken at the emotions spiraling all through him, Drake swung a leg over his bike then paused. “You think there’s any truth to the muties rising?”

Morgan sighed. “God, that’s one thing I hope to never see, but for real? Yeah, if it was serious enough for him to come here to talk about it, then I think it’s a real issue.”

Morgan’s eyes met Drake’s squarely. Drake could not tell what Morgan was thinking.

“You do know he isn’t wrong about Magda, or Joaquin, or them wanting his territory,” Drake said.

Morgan sighed. “You know what, Drake? You been away too long. We ride, and you ride with us today and tonight. Then you talk to me about that question you just asked.”

 

CHAPTER 9:

Angelina parked her car away from the usual entrance into the park. The lot was on the cliff’s side where the most serious hikers went so the lot was higher up, and it was far less visible. It was also deserted.

At least I only took a few things into his house and hiding the car was brilliant, and now—bonus—I have all my stuff with me.

Even the guitar, which was now in the case Pete had given her a few nights ago, when he had realized that she didn’t have one for the instrument.

She had a tent, a bunch of food and water, and other supplies. She needed time, and she needed to think. The car was not likely to get her caught. Even if someone scented her out at Drake’s, they were highly unlikely to be able to follow the scent of her car, unless they just happened to come to the trails in the sprawling and vast park.

The trails were steep, and she was tired. The equipment was heavy, and she had to make two trips to get it all where she wanted it.

She’d tossed her phone out earlier. Joaquin was no dummy, and why he had not already tracked the phone was anyone’s guess, but she knew if he had not thought of it yet, he would soon.

She had a new burner phone and the only number in it was Drake’s. The campsite she had picked out was off the beaten track, it was high on a small mesa, and she could see the city from there. Tears ran down her face as she gazed down at the teeming metropolis below.

How can I miss him so much when I barely know him? How can I want his so much when he is a bear and I am a wolf? How can I be so heartbroken over him when I didn’t even know that I love him?

I love him.

Oh.

My.

God.

She did love him. There was no rhyme or reason to it, but she loved him. She loved the way he rode that bike and the way he played guitar. She loved the way he was capable of putting all his emotions into a song and those same emotions from her when she sang those songs that he wrote.

She loved him.

Hoping to ease her heart, Angelina stood and began to walk, looking for Mario.

**

She didn’t find Mario that night or the next day. She sat at her little camp, drinking a bottle of water and staring at her cell phone. The sun was high, so she was in the tent, hoping to avoid the worst of the heat and the scorpions running around on the washed-out trails.

Where was Drake? Was he okay? Had he been found out? Had he forgotten all about her?

A low whine caught her ear and she listened, a smile lifting her mouth and her mood as she recognized Mario’s tone and smell.

She climbed out of the tent and stood, looking down at Mario. “Hey, you. How’s your mate?”

He lifted his head, and she followed the thrust of his snout. The she-wolf was nearby. She was standing fully on her foot, so she was healing. Mario barked once, and the she-wolf turned, heading down the steep ravine, obviously on the hunt for food.

Angelina said, “I got some food if you want it.”

Mario looked away, a clear no. Even through the heavy hiking shoes the heat of the ground was apparent. Angelina shifted her weight. “I’m scared, Mario.”

His eyes came back to hers and before she could stop herself, she poured out the whole story, of Drake and the band and how much she loved it and him, how she wanted to be his mate even though he was a bear and how lonely she was without him. How impossible it all seemed, and how frightened she was that Joaquin would run unchecked if she did not do something and soon, but how afraid she felt at the thought of standing against him.

Angelina collapsed into the small camp chair, staring at the remnants of the fire. “I don’t know what to do.”

Mario whined. She looked over at him, her mouth opening to speak. Instead, her jaw hung loose and slack and her eyes widened until her eyes were in real danger of bulging right out of her face.

“You…” she said, her voice choked and strangled. “You… you can shift.”

Mario grabbed a bush and held it in front of his crotch. Her eyes fastened on his face. He was handsome, swarthy and sharp-featured. Tall and broad, too. “Why? I mean how? I… what the literal fuck?”

“I chose.” His words were slurry and badly formed. It was obvious talking was not easy for him. “Long time ago. I remember. You don’t. I saw him kill our mother. She was like…” He made a sound, a short little howl followed by a click in his throat. His mate’s name, she realized.

Angelina grabbed the first thought that came into her head. “We knew Mom was wild and he had to escape the zoo. He couldn’t take her with him—and if he had, she wouldn’t have survived out here. She couldn’t shift.”

“Killed her.”

He’s confused. Or he doesn’t know what words he’s using. “No. Mario, that’s not the right word.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I know. I saw. He wanted pups, not her.”

No. He had to be wrong! “Mario…”

“Saw it. Knew he did it because of us. Shifters.”

No. No Dad would never… Her throat went tight. “Mario, why don’t you shift? I mean, why… why choose…”

“Better for me. Like better. I’m wolf. Not human.”

He was human. Tears sent crystallized rainbows dancing into the field of her vision.

“You want bear, choose. You want no… Joaquin’s…” Mario’s brow wrinkled. “Nobody cares what they say when I’m near. They don’t think I understand. I hear, and understand. Sam’s with the muties. He’s going to try to take the pack from Joaquin with muties. Joaquin’s with bears and…”

“Stop. Wait. What? Muties?”

“I go now. Have to. She’s mine, abut only wolf mine,” Mario said.

Angelina heard a rattle of rock nearby. The she-wolf Mario had mated to was returning.

“Mario, are you sure about Sam?”

“If you had kids, he would kill them for Alpha spot. Says muties make him Alpha.”

Your pack. Not ours. “Sam’s betraying Joaquin?”

“Joaquin wants war. Says it will end tigers and bears but not wolves. Says many muties die. Then easier to take over. But Sam’s playing both sides. He’s weak, weaker even than Joaquin. Wanted to be Alpha. Sam said Dad made sure he’d never be. Pissed off.” He touched her shoulder lightly. “Goodbye. Don’t come here again. Too dangerous. The mate wants… not like us. Not… she sees food and weakness now when you come.”

The she-wolf wants to kill and eat me! And after I saved her paw too, the ungrateful bitch!

She whispered, “Don’t go.”

“I did already. I chose. You choose. Be… you.”

Then he shifted and raced away from the campsite. Angelina heard the yips of greeting between him and his mate. She collapsed, putting her head in her hands. What was happening? Mario could shift?

Could—and chose not to.

Because he didn’t want that life. He wanted a different life. He wanted a wild life, one he got to live the way he chose. He’d always been prone to vanishing and skulking through the neighborhood and she knew now that what he had really been doing, for years, was searching for a place he could be—and for a mate that would accept him.

The she-wolf obviously knew he was different. What was more, she was older, past the age of bearing litters. So, he would not have to worry about that, and she was an exile, too, for her strangely colored coat and her smaller size. They were both outsiders who had made something special.

Like what she could have with Drake, if she just decided to.

Chose to.

Angelina stood and reached for her phone again, her fingers hitting the screen.

 

CHAPTER 10:

Where is she? Drake stopped on the trail. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets and he checked the time on his phone, groaning when he saw that the signal was gone again.

He’d thought she would come up here but maybe he had been wrong, or he was in the wrong spot.

Or maybe she’s gone, totally. Maybe she ran to New York or somewhere else, somewhere she can sing and just live and be free.

A hawk soared overhead, its distinctive cry drawing his attention. The few days of freedom that they’d had, the too few days and nights of music and love, had reinforced his knowledge that he wanted more than just to be left out of the politics of the pack; he wanted a life beyond the pack.

But there was the rub. Being with Angelina meant he would have to get involved with those politics. Being with her meant defending her and not just from Joaquin, but from both their kinds. Morgan didn’t seem to care one way or another—but Magda would and unfortunately Morgan had yet to find his real footing.

He’s going to have to kill her one day. Or I am going to have to, just to set him free of her influence. The hell of it is that Morgan’s not a coward—he just can’t seem to shake her off. Magda’s always been good at making people feel like she is frail and afraid and then using their wanting to protect her against them.

He headed back the way he had come, his mind still wrestling with all the information. If he wanted to be with Angelina, and he did, then he was going to have to figure out a way to do it. That might mean leaving LA, striking out for a place where they weren’t known.

But anywhere they went, shifters would know them, and know they were unalike. Anywhere they went, they would have to fight to survive. There were plenty of places in LA not held by the shifters but many of them were held by other kinds: vamps and fey and so on. There was only one territory where no others were—and that was Beverly Hills, which had too many wards and other shit in place for a shifter to go unnoticed.

A scorpion scuttled over one of his boots. Drake shook it off, sending it flying off into the shifting sand. Goddammit! Where was Angelina and how long was he going to keep going around and around on these damn trails in the hopes of finding her?

He’d spent the last few days and nights taking care of business with his club. That meant running drugs and overseeing a few shipments headed out to East LA and to Joaquin, who was as angry as Patel had claimed, and still insisting that it was a mutie he had scented that day.

Magda had championed a war with the muties, much to Morgan’s dismay. Drake wanted to believe that Morgan would stand against slaughter but he also knew that if Morgan did he would be fighting off not just Magda and the humans at her beck and call but his own pack—and Joaquin’s.

I can’t do that to him.

No, he couldn’t. He also couldn’t stand the idea of Angelina going back to Joaquin. Or being without her.

He should leave it alone. On her own, she stood a chance.

She could get somewhere she could blend in and not be noticed. He knew there were smaller cities, like Austin, with crazy good music scenes. Angelina belonged somewhere like that, in a place where she could have a life that was solely hers and nobody else’s. If she went alone, a lone shifter with no allegiances and posing no threat, she’d be accepted if not tolerated.

His phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, and he was tempted to ignore it. He decided at the last minute to answer and as soon as he did, his heart swelled with both joy and worry.

“Drake?” Angelina said softly.

“I’m here.” He stopped and stood there, his eyes closing and his heart filling. “No matter what, I’m here.”

CHAPTER 11:

Drake ditched the bike in a parking garage on the fringes of Hollywood. Angelina parked in a space not far from his and they stood there, looking at each other. Her face was wan and pale, and dirty, too. He had hugged her earlier but he did again. Her whole body shook as she leaned into him and whispered, “Drake, I’m scared.”

“I know.” Me, too. I’m scared I’m going to get you killed. “We have to move and fast. There’s muties around, and… and we need to avoid them as long as possible.”

“Why?”

He didn’t want to tell her just yet. She was shocked and scared and at the end of her strength, too. Being alone in the mountains had hit her hard, and he had a feeling there was more to it than even that.

“I just don’t want anyone who might think to tell Joaquin where you are to spot us.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and took her hand. The only thing she took out of the car was the guitar, which he carried, and a small bag of clothes.

She tucked the keys into her pocket and they set off, walking down the sidewalk hastily. There was a sprawling motel not far and Drake said, “That’s where we are headed. It’s not fancy, but I think it might be clean. No promises, though.”

She chuckled. “I don’t really care right now. I just want some food, a shower and a bed.”

He wanted a bed, too, with her in it. His steps quickened, and they stepped into a musty and faded lobby where he paid cash and didn’t have to tender an ID, a good thing, but not a good sign.

The room was equally musty. The curtains had moth holes and the comforter and carpet smelled like stale cigarette smoke. The bathroom was reasonably clean however and as much as he wanted to join her in there, Drake had a feeling Angelina needed a minute alone. He called for pizza and sat down on the bed, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

He’d left his phone on his bike, in a saddlebag. Safer that way. It also cut him off from any communication with anyone who might be able to help them.

Not that he had any idea of who might be willing to aid him in running away with a wolf shifter, and one promised to the Alpha of the pack.

Angelina came out of the bathroom and all of his thoughts vanished like dust. She held a towel, thin and threadbare, up over her breasts, but it did nothing to hide her lush and gorgeous body.

Her thick black hair hung in a wet sheet. Little beads of water ran off the strands, forming little wet trails that slid down the pert slope of her breasts and fired up his lust to an unimaginable height.

“Come here,” he said, and she came, dropping the towel as she did so. The sight of her tits, with the nipples already hardened and thrusting upward, the gleam of her skin, and the smile on her face as she sauntered into the bed, nearly did him in.

He undressed so fast he nearly tore his shirt and then he moved on top of her. His hands roamed her body and his tongue followed. He needed her too much to be slow or subtle. It had taken a toll on him, being separated from her, and he wanted her so badly he could scarcely breathe.

Her skin was smooth and tight, and he let his mouth find the flesh between her legs, his tongue going into her body to taste the fluids gathered there at the entrance to her snug sheath. Her fingers grabbed at his hair, and he let her hold on as he licked her clit, not bothering to go slow, driving her to an orgasm as fast as he could, because he knew the minute he started to fuck her he was going to erupt. His cock, swollen and throbbing, was ready and he wanted to be inside her tight depths more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life.

Salty-sweet fluids spilled over his tongue, coated his chin. Drake moved upward and entered her all in one long smooth motion. His ass clenched as he plunged into her and withdrew, too eager to wait. The feel of her pussy pulsing around him as she rode the aftershocks of her orgasm was a pleasurable thing all in itself and he stayed inside her for a moment, grinding his hips hard before pulling out and entering her again.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him there as his hips jerked and bucked and his breath got faster and faster still. His cock pounded, and he could feel his balls tightening and creeping upward as he got closer to coming.

His eyes closed. Her body writhed under his. His cock filled her wet and slippery passage and he withdrew, knowing that the next thrust would be the last one, the one that would send him over the edge.

It was. He came so hard his body shuddered and jerked. His hands gripped her shoulders tightly and she whimpered, a quick exclamation of pain that made him loosen that hold as his seed, thick and hot, poured out of his cock and splashed into her walls.

Angelina murmured, “Did you hear something?”

He did then. A tap on the door. He groaned out, “I think it’s the pizza. Fuck it. I’m staying right here.”

Angelina rolled him off her body and said, “Uh uh. Go get the food!”

 

CHAPTER 12:

Still glowing from the lovemaking, Angelina reclined on the pillows, a slice of sausage and mushroom pizza in one hand. The gooey melted cheese and thick crust was delicious, much better than the rough meals she had been making do with.

Drake was also eating, but in between bites, he was strumming chords on her guitar and singing snatches of songs to her.

Angelina finished her slice and asked, “Drake, what happens next?”

He set the guitar down. His eyes were troubled. “I don’t know. Honestly, I should let you go. I mean, you deserve a chance to be the great singer you are, but if you stay with me…”

He let the sentence dwindle off. He didn’t have to say the rest.

“I made up my mind, up there in the hills. I want you, Drake, and well…” She paused. “You know shifters have babies faster?”

He nodded. “Yeah, biologically speaking, sure. Why?”

“Because we’re having one.”

His mouth dropped open. “What?”

Well, at least he didn’t run as soon as the words were out. “I’m pregnant.”

Drake dropped the pizza. It hit the sheets, leaving a stain. Not that she figured that would matter that much. The sheets were pretty dingy anyway.

“You… you… I thought two different species… I… you see, I couldn’t… You know, that is why I was not named Alpha.”

“I know. I don’t know what happened.” Oh no. Was he doubting he was the father? It was possible. How could she blame him if he did? They were different and there had never been a child born of two species of shifter, as far as she knew. It was supposed to be genetically impossible and he had been denied the Alpha spot for his inability to produce kids.

“Wait. How did they know you couldn’t?” she asked.

He gave her a wary glance. “It’s not like I was a virgin when I met you.”

“I know that. But did you try to have kids?”

He shrugged. “Well, in my pack, monogamy isn’t exactly a thing. I mean, I had a few who were in heat and they never got pregnant so, well, it was just assumed.”

“But Morgan could have kids?”

Drake’s face darkened. “He had a mate he wanted to be with for life, but she died.”

“Oh.” There was something there, and she did not want to know what it was. It was personal and it was none of her business until he decided, if he decided, to make it her business.

Drake burst into laughter. “I guess I proved them all wrong, didn’t I?”

I’m going to have a heart attack. I am. Does this mean he’s okay with this?

Am I okay with this?

Drake paused. “Angelina, you do know we can’t… I mean, how will we know what it will shift as?”

She lifted her shoulders and dropped them. “I don’t know,” she admitted. Her chest gave off a powerful ache. “What if it’s something that is both wolf and bear? Is that even possible?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“That sounds pretty nonchalant.”

He shrugged. “I guess. I just don’t know what to say to that one. I’ve never heard of it happening. If it has, nobody’s talking about it.”

He had a point. That didn’t halt the worry growing in her being. “I’m afraid that something will… that our child will be something they try to kill. They exile muties, you know. They send mutie kids away as soon as they know for sure they can’t shift at will, and I don’t know where they’d send a child like ours, but I know one thing.” Her hand curled protectively around her belly. Her fingertips grazed the still flat flesh there and her eyes lifted to his. “They’ll take my child over my dead body.”

Drake’s eyes glowed. His face wore an intent expression. “Our dead bodies,” he corrected her. “No way am I letting them take our child.”

Her breath caught and held. He meant it. They were in this together, and he would stand with her and for their baby. Her voice was husky as she said, “Maybe we better run. I don’t know where. There has to be somewhere we could go.”

“I thought that, too, at first, but we can’t now. You have to know that, Angelina. We can’t run forever, and we can’t hide forever.”

No, they couldn’t. Their child would be something so different he or she would be bound to draw attention unless they hid that baby away from everyone and even if they succeeded in hiding the child from shifters, humans would sense the difference, just like some humans sensed the difference in her, and Drake.

“Then what do we do?”

His teeth gnawed at his bottom lip. “I didn’t want to talk about this tonight, but we have to. Joaquin’s started a war with the muties. He claims you are with a bear mutie and now the muties, outraged and being accused and having the wolf pack riding through their territory, are rebelling.”

Oh, my God! Her mouth hung open. Stunned and infuriated, and very frightened now, she said, “He thought you were a mutie?”

Drake shook his head. “No. I don’t believe that he did. Patel…”

“The tiger?”

“The same. He came into bear territory. He thinks Joaquin is deliberately stirring the pot so we have to fight the muties. Then, when the smoke clears, all the territory belonging to the tigers would be up for grabs.”

“The tigers were the ones who created mutie laws.” Angelina’s brow furrowed. “And they have the smallest pack. Their numbers have dwindled over the years—from what I hear, they barely have four or five dozen shifters in their ranks now.”

“That’s about right. Wolves, on the other hand, number in the hundreds in your pack alone and there’s wolf packs all over LA. There’s been peace for the most part, and all that, and if they had to band together for a common enemy, that would only reinforce their one-ness.”

“Joaquin has the biggest and strongest pack. The other packs are small, a dozen or so here and there. If they all banded together under Joaquin, he’d run the largest shifter pack in the city.” A vertical slash appeared between her eyes. “What about the bears?”

“We number in the hundreds, and we have an army of humans—criminals and psychopaths, for the most part. If they don’t know about the shifter thing, they will, and what’s more, they won’t care. Not if there’s blood, money, and territory up for grabs.”

“The tigers’ territory.”