I’d fallen asleep snuggled in bed with Raul aboard his plane. But I awoke in a strange new bed in a very nice but simply decorated room. Light was streaming in through the open shutters decorating the windows, and I could see glimpses of trees and greenery through the wide wooden slats.

I sat up and looked around me. Raul was nowhere in sight, and I felt a pang of disappointment at his absence—disappointment that swiftly morphed into annoyance as a beautiful woman with long ebony hair strolled through the open doorway of the bedroom.

Who the hell kidnapped someone—professing to have been in agony with want for them for the past decade and vowing to never stay away from them again—only to repeatedly duck out on them and leave them with strangers? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d kidnapped me, and already Raul had left me twice!

Damn. Was it normal to feel insulted when your werewolf abductor shirked on his obligation to be connected “for all eternity” to you?

“Morning,” the woman greeted me, an inscrutably bright, Cheshire-like grin overtaking her exquisite, makeup-free face. “I’m Avery. Also known as Sloane’s mom. How do you take your coffee?”

My jaw fell open a little. I quickly closed it when I realized I probably had morning breath and that she’d be able to smell it from across the room with her canine senses.

This was Avery: Sloane the Rogue’s mom that Raul spoke of with such great esteem and affection. The way he’d described her to me last night made it clear he viewed her as a close friend and that he also held her in extremely high regard as a mother for her unwavering dedication to Sloane. But he’d neglected to mention she was also drop-dead gorgeous. And intimidating as hell.

She had wide-set eyes and high cheekbones, and her skin was a beautiful shade of russet brown with olive undertones. She appeared to be a perfectly gorgeous mix of multiple races, most immediately recognizable of which was African. She was wearing no-nonsense black shorts and a simple tank top that showcased her lean, athletic build. She looked like she’d probably been up for five hours already and had just returned from an important, dangerous Lara Croft-esque mission. Everything about her screamed Alpha female. Even if she hadn’t been a werewolf, I was positive she could’ve kicked my ass in seconds flat. Instantly, I regretted skipping out on so many sessions at the gym in recent months.

Her eyes on me were friendly, but their depths guarded like Fort Knox. And one of her finely shaped brows had just arched.

Oh. She’d asked me a question. About coffee.

“Ah-mm … cream and sugar?”

“Are you asking or telling me?” She leaned her hip against the bedpost, her brown doe eyes unblinking. “Because that sounded like a question. You want a reputation for being firm and decisive if anyone’s going to take you seriously around here. And as the tired saying goes, you only get one shot at making a first impression.” She cupped her hand to the side of her mouth and whisper-shouted, “Particularly when ninety-three percent of the guys here are sexist pigs.”

I rubbed my eyes, wondering for a moment if I was still asleep. “I’m sorry, I’m just waking up and I don’t—”

“Don’t apologize. That’s even worse. You’re digging a hole now. You’re liable to tumble down the well of rationalization next if you aren’t careful.”

What on earth? “I really don’t understa—”

“You’re our Alpha’s mate. You need to be taken seriously around here.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Believe me, woman to woman, I wish I could give you more time with this whole adjustment, but there’s simply no time. You feel me, Bethy? I can call you Bethy, can’t I.” She pointed her finger at me. “See what I did there? I just told you. I didn’t ask. Feel the difference? Good. Because I’m calling you Bethy.”

Holy baby Jesus, she was intense. I nodded. “I take cream and sugar. Please.” I could still say please, couldn’t I?

“You got it. There’s a bathroom down the hallway. Raul left a little overnight bag with some of your stuff he thought you’d need at the foot of the bed. See you downstairs.”

“You can’t imagine how stoked I am to finally meet you.” Avery’s face was animated as she sat across from me at her breakfast table, enjoying a huge plate of eggs and bacon and waffles. She’d told me that her mate had built this house himself. The two of them lived here with Sloane, while Raul resided at the main Salvatella mansion a short distance away.

“Thank you,” I said once I’d finished chewing the bite of bagel in my mouth. “It’s so nice to meet you, too. Raul told me what good friends you two are. How long have you known each other?”

“Seven months.”

“Oh.”

“When I first met Raul, I couldn’t figure him out, you know?”

I nodded, not really sure what she meant, though.

“I couldn’t for the life of me get a clear sexual orientation read on him,” she continued, prompting me to nearly choke on the next bite I’d taken. “There were moments when I was certain he was gay, but then it didn’t quite fit. Now it makes perfect sense that all this time he was simply mated and resisting his mating bond to you.” She brought a forkful of eggs and waffle to her mouth.

I tried to tamp down the absurd happiness that bloomed in my chest at Avery thinking Raul was gay. I cleared my throat. “Yeah … Raul said something similar to me about that. If you don’t mind me asking, what does that mean—he resisted his mating bond to me?”

When she’d finished chewing, she said, “It means he was dumb enough to try and do the impossible—go against the mating bond pull and say F you to the hand of fate, spirit ancestor bullshit, and all that jazz. Ballsy move. But ultimately, stupid.” She took a sip of coffee. “I’m still in shock he made it ten years. That’s gotta be some kind of mating bond avoidance record. That shit’s painful.”

“How painful?”

“Well, put it this way, I only lasted a few days.” Her face screwed up, and she looked at the ceiling. “No, wait a minute … not even that long, now that I think of it.”

Why had Raul resisted his mating bond to me? He’d claimed on the plane that he’d done it for my own good. For my safety. But what did that really mean? What was so bad about me being with him that he had willingly stood by and allowed me to get engaged to Gregg?

As if reading the direction of my thoughts, Avery offered, “Gabe, the last Alpha, would’ve killed you.” She brandished her fork at me. “Straight up. Probably would’ve tortured and dismembered you a few times first, too. Just for kicks. Maybe done some kind of ritualistic sacrifice and then made a satchel and some moccasins out of your skin. The guy was a psycho creep.”

She leaned forward and whispered, “Between you and me, I think insanity runs deep through the Salvatella bloodlines.” She patted me on the wrist with her free hand. “I’ll make up a cheat sheet for you of all the ones I’ve got my eye on as nuckin’ futs around here.”

Wow. Process the satchel comment later, Bethany. “So you knew the last Alpha? Gabe?”

“Unfortunately. Only briefly. Even that was far too long for me. He tried to kill me. Twice. Raul saved me the first time. The second time didn’t go as well.” Her color darkened with what looked like embarrassment. “I totally ate it and croaked the second time.”

“Um … I’m sorry, but—”

“Ah-ah-ah.” She clucked her tongue at me. “Lose the ‘sorry,’ Madam Alpha.”

“Got it, but did you just say Gabe was successful in killing you the second time he tried?”

“Yeah. It was partially my fault, though. I should’ve seen it coming. Gabie baited me. Wasn’t one of my better moments.”

Did I want to ask? I settled on nodding and eating my bagel. I’d ask Raul later. “Raul told me you weren’t born a werewolf—erm—werelock. You are a werelock, right? I can’t really tell the difference yet. Is that racist?” I wanted to facepalm. “I mean in the werewolf world sense?”

Her brown eyes glittered with amusement. “Extremely. Yes, I’m a werelock. And no, wasn’t born one. I was bitten by a rogue and changed ten years ago.”

I nodded and reached for my coffee. Raul had told me as much. He’d told me Avery had also been raped and impregnated by the same rogue werewolf who’d bitten her—Sloane’s biological father.

“So, look, I’m going to level with you, Bethy. Your getting claimed by Raul as his mate right now is really bad timing for us as a pack.”

My brows went up along with my back. “Well, that’s something we all have in common then, because it wasn’t on my agenda for the week, either.”

“Ooh, I caught a glimmer of fierceness coming from you that time,” she commended me with a snicker. “More of that and less apology, ’kay?”

Rolling my eyes, I found myself chuckling along with her. Raul was right. So far I did like Avery. “Care to elaborate on the bad timing?”

“What I mean is you’re in a werewolf baptism-by-fire situation here, whether you like it or not.” She pushed her plate aside and propped her elbows on the table. “Here’s the deal: Gabe was an evil prick, and everyone in this pack is obviously better off without him. But they’re still healing from years of his abusive reign. And before that, his brother’s abuse. And before that … well, basically every Salvatella Alpha has been an asshole as I understand it.”

She steepled her hands beneath her chin and interlaced her fingers. “As a pack, we’re still somewhat divided and volatile. It’s crucial right now that Raul remains in power and establishes some measure of stability.” Her expression changed suddenly, and she appeared distracted, like she’d gone into her own head. Then, just as abruptly, her expression changed back and she concluded, “So you can’t fuck this up for him, okay?”

I was in too much shock at first to respond. Laughing in her face and throwing the c-word at her would’ve been somewhat gratifying, albeit childish, but I knew it would gain me nothing as far as allies and information.

“Just so we’re clear, I didn’t ask for this,” I set her straight. “And I’m not planning on staying here long enough to fuck up anything for Raul or your pack. I want nothing to do with this. I have a life in San Francisco. I’m finishing my residency, and I have plans in place to start my own practice next year. Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked to—”

“I know, I know. Believe me, Bethy, I empathize with you more than you realize. I’m on your side.” Her tone was gentle, but firm. “I’ve been in your shoes. Ten years ago, I was thirty-two years old, engaged to be married, and ready to start a family. I’d finished my Ph.D. in molecular biology at M.I.T., and I was working a job I loved in genetic research. You think I planned on a rogue werewolf crashing my camping weekend, killing my fiancé and my friends, and forever altering the course of my existence as well as my DNA?”

Well, crap, when she framed it that way, she made my night of hot club sex followed by werewolf biting and kidnapping sound like a sexy holiday compared to her own werewolf baptism by fire.

Sometimes perspective was a bitch.

“Life throws us curves, and we’ve got to be like water and adapt. Like Darwin said, it’s not the strongest of the species that survives, or the most intelligent. It’s the one that is most adaptable to change. Fighting against the inevitable isn’t going to help you with this, and it isn’t going to help our pack. You and Raul are mated. Done deal. No backsies or exchanges.”

She let me mull on that while she took a sip of coffee. “By the way, Raul just communicated with me a moment ago through our mind link. He’ll be here in five.”

That explained her distraction before. “Thanks.” I was enjoying my time with Avery, but I couldn’t deny the excitement I felt knowing Raul was on his way. As crazy as it was, already it felt like it’d been too long since I’d seen him. “So, is that weird? Communicating telepathically?”

“At first. But you get used to it. At least I did. My mate, Alcaeus, isn’t a fan. I don’t think they practiced that method of communication as much within his former pack. Mike says it’s a generational thing—that the younger werelocks are more comfortable embracing it. My mate’s old school.” She rolled one shoulder, and the goofiest, dreamiest smile broke across her face for just a moment. It was so sweet I felt myself grinning with her.

“To me,” she continued, “mind-tapping is a tool like anything else. Helpful at times, other times annoying as fuck. Oh, and the other thing they do a bit differently in this pack is tap emotions—which, normally, is something that I think only occurs between mates.” Her brow creased. “Not positive. I’m not exactly the resident expert on ‘normal’ werelock behavior. In any case, Alcaeus and I have never gotten into the emotional swinging that goes on between our Salvatella pack mates. Frankly,” she said, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, “I wouldn’t advise it, given the mostly crazy werewolf pool we’re swimming in here.”

I nodded absently. Sounded like a whole lotta rampant codependency to me. I decided to change the subject before I started freaking out.

“So, I’m really looking forward to meeting your daughter. Sloane sounds amazing.”

Avery beamed with pride. “Thank you. She is amazing.”

“It’s so sweet how she and Raul have formed such a special, unique connection. Will I get to meet her today?”

She set her coffee mug down. “So, about that. You should know, Sloane’s not always very embracing of new people in her life.”

“Oh, I understand,” I reassured her. “Raul told me.”

“Her verbal communication skills have improved by leaps and bounds since Raul has come into her life, but she still struggles with self-expression and often resorts to tantrums and other forms of … demonstration when she has difficulty processing her emotions.”

“Really and truly, Avery, you don’t have to worry. I would never judge your daughter or hold her to some arbitrary standard for proper child behavior and expression.”

She started laughing. “Oh, you’re so sweet. That’s not what I’m worried about.” She shook her head. “How to say this? I’m actually relieved that Raul claimed you as his mate now rather than holding out any longer. Because even though Sloane might be upset initially by your arrival on the scene, she’s right at that tender age where … well, you know?” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “If it went on any longer, it’d only become potentially more awkward and difficult for her to understand.”

“Not sure I’m following.”

“What’s your age difference with Raul again?”

“Roughly eight years. Why?”

She nodded. “Perfect. That’s what I remembered him telling me. And Raul’s estranged father brought him back to Brazil to live with him when Raul was how old?”

“He was a senior in high school. Probably eighteen or close to it?”

“So you were around Sloane’s age at that time.” She tilted her head at me. “And then you saw him briefly every few years during your teenage years whenever he’d come home to visit? Tell me, what’d you think of Raul back then? What was your predominant lasting impression of him from the age of ten onward?”

I blushed.

She leveled her pointer finger at me. “You follow me?”

“Oh, my. I don’t think Raul has any idea Sloane has a crush on him.”

“Of course not. He’s a guy. Chaos is in complete denial too.”

“Chaos?”

“Alcaeus, my mate. He prefers the nickname Chaos.”

Huh. “Okay.” I nodded, making a mental note.

“It’s easier to say and remember, don’t you think? Anyway, I hope you won’t take it personally if Sloane has a less than positive initial reaction to you.”

“No, of course not. I understand.”

“So what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, I know Raul’s taking me to see the pack’s head werelock doctor. I’m not sure what else he has planned after that.”

She scrunched her nose up. “That’d be Rafe. Really hot Afro-Argentine werelock with an enormous chip on his shoulder and a transforming scar running the length of his face through his right eye. Try not to stare at it. It’s really hard, I know, ’cause it’s kinda mesmerizing in a disturbing way.”

“Transforming?”

“Changing. Mutating. It’s a curse. It transforms with his mood. The happier Rafe is, the more grotesque his scar becomes. If he laughs, he loses vision in his right eye entirely.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, so try not to take it personally when he’s a dick to you. He’s a dick to everyone.”

I nodded. “That poor man.”

“No, no, don’t fall into the trap of feeling sorry for him, either. Because he really is a dick, scar or not. But hey, he can scent a kidney stone inside a person from a town away.”

Yuck. “As part of the curse?”

“No, as part of him being a medical genius.”

“Oh.” Right. “I’m sure that comes in handy.” For something.