The farmhouse's front door banged open. Colleen and Mary exploded onto the front porch and raced for the yard. At a more restrained pace, Demetri trailed a couple of paces behind the dog and woman, but he deliberately maintained a measured distance. Near enough to protect them should things turn dangerous, but also allowing enough space to assess the situation.

In the sky, fluffy white clouds like distant sheep grazed upon a field of blue. On the surrounding hillsides, the tall spring grass and wildflowers swayed in a gusty breeze that blew from the west. It was a perfect day in the making, except for the intruder.

A black pickup truck parked in the driveway. The driver's side door swung open, and a man, presumably Quentin, slid from behind the wheel. Demetri sized the other fellow up with a critical up-down, evaluating the potential threat. Quentin stood about six-even or six-one. He had a lanky but athletic build. He wore a floral snake-print parka with track pants and white sneakers. One might've assumed the guy bought his clothing secondhand, except Demetri recognized genuine Gucci apparel when he saw it, and only because his half-sister Chiara worked for the Italian designer.

"What do you want?" Mary demanded of Quentin.

Colleen assumed a guard position beside Mary.

"Now, Mary, why so hostile? Don't I at least warrant a good morning?" Quentin flashed a practiced grin that oozed boyish charm. He probably fooled most women. Obviously, Mary had once been duped by the guy's wiles, but not Demetri. He took one look at the guy and pegged him as an unscrupulous grifter.

"No, you don't. Now tell me what you want or get the hell off my land." She placed her hands on her hips and jutted her chin. The morning sunlight picked up the highlights in her auburn hair so her tresses shone like burnished red-gold. Even with an untidy ponytail and grumpy overalls, Mary was gorgeous. Her spirited courage won Demetri's admiration hands down.

"I'm here to talk," Quentin argued, ignoring Mary's question.

"I don't want to talk to you, so if you don't need anything, then you can leave." Mary threw her thumb over her shoulder in a hit-the-road-Jack gesture.

The wind altered direction, and whisked the musty scent of a predator straight to Demetri's sensitive nose. Reflexively, he drew in a deep breath and confirmed the threat. A grunt of aggression built in Demetri's chest, and Colleen snarled at the same moment, indicating they'd reached the same conclusion: Quentin was a coyote-shifter. Briefly, Demetri wondered if Mary understood her ex-husband's true nature. His ram-shifter instincts flared, urging him to shape change and charge the enemy. Only his concern for Mary kept him from leading with a head butt.

"Who are you?" Quentin spared Colleen a glance and then aimed a hostile glare at Demetri. Aggression soured the coyote-shifter's scent.

"Demetri Larsen. I'm the new ranch hand." He strode forward and thrust out his arm, hand open. A challenge veiled as a polite greeting.

Quentin hesitated. The coyote stood straighter and puffed out his chest. Wariness shone in his gaze. Despite being upwind, he must have sensed a fellow shifter even if his nose couldn't confirm it.

Demetri stepped in closer and pitched his voice too low for Mary to overhear. "Shake my hand, or are you a chicken-shitter, too, little dog?"

The dare worked.

Quentin's face contorted into a scowl, and he seized Demetri's hand in a grip that would've crushed a normal man's bones. "I don't know who the fuck you are and I don't care. Mary is my mate."

"She seems to think otherwise." Demetri tightened his hold, pitting his strength against the other man. A grunt of surprise escaped Quentin, and he widened his eyes. Their contest escalated. Across both men's forearms, veins popped over taut-drawn sinew and perspiration glistened on their brows.

"I'm the final judge of what I think! Both of you—knock it off now!" Mary circled them with Colleen in her orbit. An expert herder, the cattle dog stayed directly in front of Mary. When the woman tried to go around, the dog blocked. It reassured Demetri, but even so, any fight between shifters posed a danger to her.

Time to end this farce.

Calling on his ram, Demetri altered his forehead, thickening the bony plate that protected the front of his skull. A little trick he'd picked up in his misbegotten youth. It barely altered his physical appearance but proved terribly effective in bar brawls.

Without warning, Demetri yanked the coyote toward him. Caught off-guard, Quentin flew off his feet. Demetri smashed his forehead straight into his rival's nose. Bones crunched and blood sprayed.

Quentin howled. He threw one hand up to cover his busted nose, but Demetri retained a firm grip on the coyote's other arm, using it like a leash.

"Demetri, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Mary shouted while Colleen barked up a storm.

"My job—eliminating vermin." With a smirk, Demetri shoved Quentin and sent him stumbling. The ram-shifter derived an immense satisfaction at the damage he'd inflicted.

"I never hired you," Mary muttered, but the lady didn't protest too loudly. And no matter what she said, there was no mistaking the pleased smile that she was trying to bite back.

"You broke my nose, you psycho bastard," Quentin said with a murderous glare. His nose was smashed flat over his bloody mouth. Quite possibly his front teeth were busted out, too.

"I'm going to bust more than your face if you don't take the hint and leave." Demetri advanced a menacing step, and Quentin took off like a shot.

Cussing up a blue streak, the coyote-shifter scurried for his truck. He leapt into the cab, started the engine, and sped off toward the main road. The fast-moving pickup truck kicked up a dust trail, and the engine moaned as it labored to hit its top speed. Metaphorically, the coyote fled with his tail between his legs.

Demetri adopted a wide stance, hands on his hips, feet planted on the earth. He held his head high, standing tall and proud as befitted his status as the victor. He'd won the confrontation and established his dominance. Oh, he wasn't a fool. If Quentin had a band, the coyote would run to them for reinforcements. Demetri had a plan for safeguarding the flock and Mary, and any prairie wolf dumb enough to get in his way could expect to get trampled.

"Well, that's just peachy." Mary huffed her sarcasm.

With a start of surprise, Demetri pivoted to face her. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be pleased."

"You didn't think; you assumed. Just like you assumed I wanted breakfast." She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes.

Smart girl that she was, Colleen barked once, the canine equivalent of "I'll leave you two alone now," and raced off toward the field where the flock was pastured.

"Most people like breakfast. You had bacon and eggs, and other breakfast food in the pantry, so yes, I assumed you would want breakfast." Demetri adopted a placating tone and held up his hands. He considered Mary's anger to be irrational, but he understood the reasons behind it. Quentin's visit had frightened and upset her. Once she calmed, she'd see that he'd acted in her best interests.

"You're twisting things! That's not what this is about!" Her volume shot up several octaves. His attempt to calm her had provoked the opposite effect.

Demetri knit his brow in puzzlement. "I'm clueless. Why don't you tell me what this is about and then we can discuss it?"

"The problem is that you keep making decisions without asking me! You just step in and take over and don't give me any say in things that affect me!" She stomped her foot so hard her gorgeous curls danced. The cutest smattering of freckles covered her nose and cheeks. She panted, and her ample bosom heaved in the most enticing manner.

Demetri fought and failed to keep an indulgent smile off his face. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her silly, sweep her into his arms, and carry her off to bed. A few solid hours of lovemaking might take the steam out of her engine...or it could make her angrier. Doubt and indecision pinched at Demetri's ego, and a little voice in the back of his head urged caution. Mary had already proven stubborn.

"Why are you smiling?" Mary snarled in frustration.

"Just at how badly we've miscommunicated," Demetri fibbed, because the truth probably would've gotten him slapped. "Look, I hear what you're saying. I made a command-level decision with Quentin..."

Belatedly, he paused. Command-level decision—those were his father's words coming from his lips. Long ago, Demetri had sworn that he'd never turn out like his father, not in a million years. Upon closer reflection, he guessed the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree, at least in some things. He didn't regret having handled Quentin, however.

Determinedly, he continued, "Because it had to be done. But you're right. I should've asked before I took over your kitchen."

Mary pursed her lips and tapped her foot as though expecting more. Demetri knit his brow, and watched her closely for some clue as to what she wanted him to say. A hint would've been nice because he had nothing. He took a stab in the dark.

"It was presumptuous of me?"

She exhaled long and thin. "What about the sheep?"

"You're upset with me for taking care of the flock?" Incredulity infused Demetri's voice. He didn't bother trying to hide it.

"No, of course not! I'm upset with you for treating my sheep like you did my kitchen—as if you owned them."

Demetri smoothed the tip of his tongue over his upper lip. His ego chaffed, and temptation loomed great. Right then and there, he almost announced that both the flock—and Mary—belonged to him now. The primordial laws of nature took precedence over those of humanity. As both ram and man, he'd claimed and would guard them against any threat even at the cost of his life. He stopped himself just in the nick of time. Somehow, he doubted Mary would appreciate the observation.

"I was just doing my job."

"I never hired you!"

A slow smile split the corners of his mouth. "And here I had the impression that I'd slept my way into the position."

Mary's jaw dropped, and then a thunderous scowl crossed her lovely features. She sputtered, struggling for words. "I can't—"

"Too soon?" Demetri grinned.

"Way too soon." She waved him off with a short, sharp gesture more like a timeout than a dismissal.

Demetri cleared his throat. All right, enough joking—time to get serious. "Mary, I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot this morning. I apologize if I overstepped. I didn't do it on purpose. Please believe I only had good intentions."

Pensive silence settled while Mary gnawed her lower lip and considered. "I believe you," she said eventually, "and I'm sorry, too."

"For what?" Tension eased from Demetri's back. Belatedly, he understood how much stress he'd been under, and it astonished him. He and Mary had only met last night, but her approval meant more to him than any other woman he'd ever known.

"For overreacting. For assuming the worst about you." Mary rolled her shoulders in a guilty shrug. "As you may've guessed, Quentin isn't the nicest guy."

"It sounds like he hurt you." Demetri regretted not having killed the coyote-shifter when he had the chance.

"He always made decisions without consulting me. Mostly bad or selfish ones," Mary explained in a voice thin with strain. "I'm only telling you this so you'll understand why I reacted the way I did. I apologize for that."

"Thank you. Now that I understand that it upsets you, I'll try not to do it again." In his gut, he understood it'd be a challenge. Demetri knew himself well, and he'd be lying if he tried to deny his authoritarian nature. He felt confident, however, that a determined effort could overcome any obstacle.

Her brow furrowed and her lips twitched. He assumed Mary meant to scold him for having made another assumption regarding their future together even as he promised not to do it.

Demetri chuckled at the irony. Yeah, he had a lot of work to do, but then so did Mary when it came to the trust department. It should prove interesting. "Look," he said, "about that. I believe we can help each other. You need a qualified ranch hand. Colleen and I need a place to stay. We're a good match."

"I do need help." A small smile quirked Mary's mouth despite her obvious misgivings. "And you were the only job applicant."

"There you go. Besides, you don't want to be the reason Colleen winds up living out of my truck, do you?"

"No, I wouldn't want that." Mary laughed, a carefree expression that was good to hear. "Yes, you can both stay, but there are stipulations."

"Okay." Demetri nodded. Stipulations—he didn't like the sound of that, but he was happy to be past the major obstacle. Anything else counted as a minor bump in the road by comparison. As soon as he had a chance to regroup and consider, he would formulate a new plan, this time making sure to consult with Mary.

"You might want to hear the terms before you agree. The pay isn't great, but it does include room and board." She swallowed, and rubbed her sweaty palms together. Anxiety soured her scent.

"All right." For the sake of tact, Demetri curbed his innate bluntness. Normally, he'd have stated upfront that he didn't give one feck about money. Based on the few subtle hints Mary had dropped, though, he grasped the ranch's precarious financial state.

"You'll have to stay in the barn. There's an old tack room converted to a bunkhouse. It has an attached bathroom with a shower," she blurted in a rush.

He frowned in aggravation, although probably not for the reason she might assume. A brief stint of celibacy wouldn't hurt him. His objection stemmed from the actual physical distance she seemed determined to put between them. With the threat of her ex-husband hanging over them, Demetri would've preferred to keep her close so he could protect her.

Mary continued speed talking at Demetri rather than to him. "If you're going to work for me, I can't sleep with you anymore. I'm sorry, but last night was only meant to be a one-time thing for me. Right now, I can't afford to get involved with anyone. So we'd have to maintain a professional working relationship from here on out. I hope you understand."

She ran out of breath. Panting, she watched him like a fox in the hen house, waiting for the moment he'd strike. He got the distinct impression she expected him to refuse, but wasn't sure what she actually wanted.

"Okay, I agree. I'll sleep in the bunkhouse, and we'll keep things strictly platonic," Demetri agreed, choosing the high road.

Mary blinked. Surprise and then disappointment crossed her face in quick succession. That he wasn't the only one unhappy with the new arrangement acted as a balm to Demetri's battered ego.

"Great!" Mary proclaimed with overdone zest. She clapped her hands together and flew into an all-business mode. "There's a stretch of fence that needs mending. I'll show you where we keep the fencing material and tools, but first, I'll give you a quick tour. You can grab your things and get settled in the bunk."

"Yes, ma'am," Demetri agreed with an easy smile.

She cocked her head and considered him. Suddenly, she comported herself with far less confidence. "Uh, I need a personal favor."

"What is it?"

Charming color appeared in the apples of her cheeks. "Do you mind giving me a lift into town so I can collect my car?"

"I don't mind at all." It'd give them a chance to engage in some small talk, get to know each other a bit better, and hopefully allow Demetri to glean more useful information about Mary's nefarious ex-husband.

"Great, I'll go grab my purse—my car keys." Mary took off like a shot, probably eager to be away from him long enough to recover her composure, although he found her innate shyness to be downright endearing.

Demetri watched her go with a smile on his face, his gaze riveted on her retreating backside, admiring how her blue jeans hugged her ass. The vivid recollection of how those perfect cheeks had filled his big hands lifted his spirits...so to speak. He adjusted his pants. Celibacy might prove more torturous than he'd imagined.

"Why did you lie to her?" Colleen asked. Magic allowed her to speak even when in her cattle dog form. She had a high, sweet voice steeped in a light Australian accent.

Demetri glanced down at the talking dog, who gazed up. He cleared his throat, suffering from a touch of embarrassment of his own. While he'd been admiring Mary's ample assets, he'd forgotten his audience.

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell her everything."

"An omission is still a lie." Colleen tilted her head to the side and gave him the look. Sad doggy eyes triggered a flood of guilt. Ah, she was a ruthless bitch.

"I want to be honest with Mary, but this isn't the right time."

"No time like the present."

He sighed. "After what just happened with her ex, I imagine it could only upset her more to learn that I'm a shifter, too."

Colleen scrunched her snout. "The longer you wait, the more pissed she'll be when she finally learns the truth, and she will, inevitably. These things have a way of coming out, usually in the worst way possible."

"Who's going to tell her? You?" He snorted. "I notice you're not rushing to reveal that you're a shifter either."

At that, Colleen turned her nose up. She managed to talk down to him, despite her head being level with his knees. "My secret doesn't matter nearly as much as yours. Mary's not my life mate."

"Whoa! Mary's not my mate." The mere suggestion knocked Demetri off his foundation of unshakeable confidence. In all the three hundred and five years of his long life, he'd never encountered the woman who could supposedly end his curse. He wasn't even sure he believed she existed.

"Really, are you sure about that?" Colleen taunted.

"Yes," Demetri grated, but for the first time in his entire long life, a glimmer of doubt crossed his mind. To be sure, he hastily checked the mark of the Aries Curse, a stylized helm tattoo, and found it still there. In a way, it was a relief—proof that some things, at least, remained safe and predictable. Why then did such a sliver of bitter disappointment ache deep in his heart?

"You made love to her." Colleen peeled her lips back from her teeth in the canine equivalent of a sneer.

"I've had sex with lots of women." Demetri always took meticulous care to use protection because he refused to be like his father. He refused to leave a trail of abandoned single mothers and illegitimate children in his wake.

"I said 'made love'." Unblinking, Colleen stared into his eyes.

He returned her gaze. A puzzled frown dented his brow as he attempted to puzzle through the dog's secret meaning. He felt as though he was grasping at straws. "Okay, yes. What Mary and I shared was exceptional, but that doesn't mean—"

The front door to the house burst open, signaling Mary's return.

"You're an idiot." Colleen nodded her head, and then went to pee on a patch of grass alongside the driveway—her final comment on the matter.

Demetri stood and scowled. Mary found him like that a moment later. She hesitated and held up her keys.

"Ready to go?" Mary asked.

"Yeah." Demetri aimed a final glare at the dog. "Colleen, watch over the flock till we get back."

Colleen barked.

"I swear," Mary muttered. "Seeing the way she responds to you, it's like she understands everything you say to her."

"You'd be surprised," Demetri drawled, not without irony.