Brandy read through a few more pages of her secret clinical lycanthropy file then snapped her laptop shut. She put the computer on the floor beside the bean bag chair and turned to face Alator.

“You must think I’m crazy. It’s completely foolish to want lycanthropy to be real. What the hell kind of scientist am I? A science fiction scientist apparently.” She puffed out a long breath and put her attention back onto Bella and Jacob filling the screen. “I have to stop watching this shit too. Doesn’t help me stay in the real world.”

She picked up the remote and went back to the TV’s guide screen, but Alator put his massive paw on her thigh. Again, she was reminded of Reardon’s big hand on her stomach last night.

Last night. When we were both naked. Together.

Not at all like tonight when Reardon stood her up. He could have at least called to say he wasn’t interested in coming over anymore.

“Wait a minute.” She looked down at Alator’s paw on her thigh. “I didn’t give Reardon my number, did I?” Poor guy had no way to contact her if he’d had to cancel. Maybe… maybe something happened to him. “Oh, no.” She hated that thought, but it made sense. Not that the only reason a guy would stand her up was because something horrendous had happened to him, but Reardon didn’t seem like an asshole who wouldn’t show. True, she’d only known him for a day. He could be so many things she didn’t even know about yet, but a jerk didn’t seem like a possibility.

Not the way he made love to her. As if she were a treasured gift or something.

She grabbed her phone off the coffee table as she put Twilight back on, seeing as how Alator had been letting out small whines since she’d changed the channel. “What, are you in love with Bella too?”

Alator swung his head away from the TV, his green-gold gaze connecting with hers as his head tilted one way then the other. Was he trying to tell her something? If so, what?

Shaking her head over thinking a wolf was attempting to communicate with her, she tapped her phone and found the number she was looking for.

“Canville Police and Fire Department,” the night operator said in a sleepy voice.

“Colleen, hello. It’s Brandy. And you realize you answered your own cell phone, not the Canville Police and Fire Department line, right?”

“Hey, Brandy. Uhh, yeah. ‘Canville Police and Fire Department’ rolls out of my mouth whenever a phone rings. Sorry. What’s up? Is that nasty Hank Swift up to no good again? I can have a unit out there in record time to haul his ass into town.” Colleen was always full of fire.

“No. Nothing with Hank, but I was wondering if you could check the records and tell me if any ambulances were sent out today.”

“Sure, but why?”

Tapping sounded and Brandy knew Colleen was typing on her computer, looking up the ambulance calls. It paid to have a buddy who answered the phones at the town’s safety complex.

“Someone was supposed to meet me tonight and he didn’t show. I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“And that he didn’t stand you up. I don’t see how anyone could stand you up, chickie. You’re freaking gorgeous and if you’d come over to my team, we could be happy for the rest of our lives.”

“You know I love you, Colleen, but I can’t be with someone who is prettier than me.”

Colleen barked out a laugh that made Brandy have to hold the phone away from her ear and laugh along. “Slick, Wendon. Really slick. Okay, according to today’s log, no ambulances went out today. I also checked the police files and it was a low crime day. Two parking tickets, one minor fender-bender with no injuries reported, and a formal complaint filed against one Hank T. Swift by one Dr. Parker I’d-Do-Him-If-I-Wasn’t-Gay Daniels, but I assume you knew about that last one because your name is mentioned in the complaint.”

The line went quiet for a moment, and Brandy assumed Colleen was reading the details of the complaint.

“Aww, shit, Brandy. One of your wolves got shot by that redneck bastard?”

“Yeah. Alator, the newest wolf.” My favorite wolf. Brandy smiled at the way Alator had his head resting on the paw he’d put on her thigh. With barely perceptible movements, he wiggled a little more of his head onto her lap, a little more, a little more until his entire head spanned across both her thighs.

“When is Olsen going to lock up Swift’s ass? I mean, what’s it going to take? Nobody likes him. Today a wolf gets shot, tomorrow it could be a person.”

A ripple of fear undulated through Brandy. It had been exactly what she’d been thinking. It was bad enough she had to worry about her wolves getting hurt, but if Dylan or Meredith or Parker were harmed by Hank, she’d lose it. Sheriff Olsen would be locking her up. She was certain of it.

“Let’s hope it never comes to a person getting hurt. Parker had security cameras installed, so that should help keep a better eye on things.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “So, no mention of a tall, dark-haired man in any of today’s reports then?”

“Not a one. Give me a name though, and I can check more specifically for you.”

“Reardon.”

“Reardon what?”

“See, here’s the thing…” Boy, did she feel like an idiot. Not only did she and Reardon not exchange phone numbers, she also didn’t know the hunk’s last name. God, she was turning into some kind of backwoods slut who slept with men she barely knew. Ugh. “I don’t know his last name.”

“You made a date with a man whose last name you don’t know?” Colleen chuckled. “Oh, Brandy, Brandy, Brandy. I didn’t know you had it in you, sister.”

“Had what in me? The ability to be a hussy?” She smacked her palm to her forehead and wanted to crawl under a rock.

“Hussy? Brandy, it takes more than that to be a full-fledged hussy. I would know. I have a degree in hussiness, you know. Nothing to be embarrassed about, girlie. I’m glad to hear you’re having some fun with something besides all those wolves.”

“Well, I certainly had fun last night, but he didn’t show tonight.” Now she was back to wondering if he truly wasn’t interested. They’d only had the one night together. It wasn’t as if he owed her any kind of loyalty or anything. She’d been thanking him for saving her and Dylan. Maybe that was just the end of it.

“Has to be a good reason. No man with a functional penis would turn down a second chance to see you, gorgeous.”

“Well, thanks, Colleen. You always know how to cheer me up.”

“If I wasn’t working, I’d come bring you some wine and we could get good and liquored and bash men until the sun came up. Unfortunately, I’m stuck here until 2:00 a.m. this shift.”

“No worries. I’m over it. I’d set out to thank him for saving Dylan and me from that car that crushed my SUV in town yesterday. I wasn’t trying to develop this big, deep relationship.” But, hell, that would have been nice.

“Sure, sure. I get you. A little thank you sex. Fun times. So what are you going to do because he didn’t show?”

“Wallow, I think.”

“Don’t wallow too long. I hear wallowing causes wrinkles and that’d be a damn shame on your lovely face. Let’s get together soon, okay? I believe it’s my turn to crush your tiny ass in Scrabble, is it not?”

“You never win at Scrabble against me, lady.” Colleen was absolutely the worst speller in the universe, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Doesn’t mean I shall give up. I’m a fighter, Brandy. To the d-e-t-h.”

“D-e-a-t-h, Colleen.”

“Right. Whatevs. Call me tomorrow and let’s schedule some girl time.”

“Okay. Thanks. Bye.”

Brandy hung up as Jacob warned Bella to stay away from Edward on the TV. Yeah, as if she was going to listen. That teenager had it bad for Edward, which Brandy never understood because there was Jacob, looking all hot and Native American and werewolf-about-to-shift. Stupid teenage girls. They never saw what was right in front of them.

Snuggling with Alator relieved some of the disappointment of the evening, and Brandy refused to let herself think about the fact that Reardon hadn’t shown. For whatever reason, he hadn’t come and she’d have to deal with it. Forget about it. Move on. She was used to being alone anyway.

“Actually, there’s no need for me to be alone, is there?” She picked up her phone again and texted Meredith.

Reardon didn’t come. Dylan can come home.

A moment later, Meredith texted back. Too late. Kid is unconscious. Didn’t even make it through one Spiderman movie. Return him in the a.m. What happened w/ Reardon?

What happened with Reardon? Excellent question. Nothing happened. Don’t know. No biggie. See you tomorrow.

Night, kid. Love you.

Brandy dropped her phone in her lap and finished watching Twilight while absently rubbing Alator’s silky fur. None of the other wolves had fur quite like his. Though it was thick and black as a moonless midnight, it was still so soft. She frequently had the urge to bury her face in the fluff.

“And on that note, it’s probably time for bed.” She heaved in a huge breath and sifted it out slowly. “C’mon, big boy. Move over. We must part ways now.”

Alator let out a small whine and nestled his head deeper into her lap as if saying, I’m staying right here, lady. All night long.

“Well, you don’t get to decide. The two-leggeds are in charge around here, mutt.” She carefully slipped her hands under his head and lifted gently so she could slide—none too gracefully—fromunder him.

The huge wolf groaned like an old man, stretched out his three good limbs, then pulled everything into a tight ball on his bed.

Damn, he’s adorable.

Brandy shot a quick glance to the couch, considering for half a minute sleeping downstairs to be near Alator. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded herself. “You have a perfectly wonderful bed upstairs. This wolf will be fine without you, Dr. Wendon.”

She grabbed her empty beer bottle and the popcorn bowl and took care of them in the kitchen. Popping her head back into the living room, she said, “Good night, Alator. Thanks for keeping me company. See you in the morning.”

Alator raised his head and blinked green-gold eyes at her. He twitched his jagged ear and thumped his tail a few times.

“Oh, you don’t like that I’m heading upstairs? Well, it’ll be morning before you know it. You’d better get your rest. You need it so that leg of yours will heal nicely. You want to be running around with the rest of the pack, don’t you?”

More tail thumping.

“Don’t be such a baby. Sweet dreams, big boy.” She blew him a kiss and headed upstairs to her bedroom.

Her dark, empty bedroom. A room that had been so much more fun last night with Reardon in it. A room that needed a male presence.

“Face it, girl. It’s just you and the sheets tonight.”

She sighed, used the bathroom, then climbed into bed, pulling only the light sheet over her. The windows were open, letting in sounds of the night. Crickets chirping. Cicadas singing. Water in the brook on the property bubbling. Sounds she’d become accustomed to while living at Silver Moon Sanctuary all these years. Sounds that kept her company.

When men did not.

****

Reardon listened for sounds of Brandy upstairs. When he didn’t hear any, he closed his eyes and shifted to human. He had to put his hands over his mouth to muffle the pained groans threatening to spill out. Gods, his shot leg hurt. Damn that fool Hank Swift. Reardon was accustomed to sword jabs, spear gouges, the occasional fist to the jaw, but a bullet beat all of those in the pain department. Weapons were one thing of the future Reardon definitely did not like.

Moving slowly, he sat up on the wolf bed Brandy and Dylan had so lovingly provided. Bless them. He’d never been taken care of so well in his life. Even his own mother hadn’t been as concerned about his status as the Wendons were.

And I’ve gone and hurt Brandy. It killed him that he’d disappointed her by not showing up this evening. Only he had shown up. He’d been with her all night just not in a form she could recognize or accept.

Or could she? Reardon glanced back to the TV, its screen now dark, and thought of the movie Brandy had been watching. She favored the werewolves. She’d also shared her research notes on lycanthropy with him. She was interested in humans shifting into animals.

But she thinks it’s all fantasy.

“Time to show her it’s not,” he whispered. If any human could accept what he was, Reardon was convinced it was Dr. Brandy Wendon. The trick was to reveal himself in a way that wouldn’t scare her or anger her.

He looked down at his throbbing calf. The bandage had torn off because his wolf leg was a lot thinner than his human one. Inspecting the bullet wound, he was impressed by the neat stitching Parker had done. A single, straight line of black stitching closed the injury and aside from a little dried blood and a general puffiness to the surrounding skin, everything looked good to Reardon. Still, the site should be covered. Especially if he were to go outside to retrieve some clothing from his hiding spot.

Reardon used his arms and good leg to maneuver to the couch. Using the piece of furniture for balance, he got to his feet and stood still, waiting to see how much pain that position would cause. Blood rushed around his body and beat a rhythm right on his wound. Again, he had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from vocalizing his pain.

Moving at a pace no fierce warrior would ever admit to, Reardon stumbled his way to the downstairs bathroom. He rummaged around until he found some gauze and tape. Sitting bare-assed on the toilet seat, he managed to wrap his leg, trying his best to keep his efforts noiseless. If Brandy woke up now and found him naked in her bathroom, his chances of not scaring her flew out the window.

Satisfied that his wound was sufficiently protected and taking some extra gauze and tape with him, he heaved in a few deep breaths, preparing to walk to the front door and go outside. It wasn’t that far from the bathroom to the front door, but in his current state, it felt like miles and miles. Plus, he still had to make it to the entrance gates—no way he was jumping any fences tonight—and tramp through the woods to his supplies. A fresh sweat broke out on his forehead.

I have to do this.

If he didn’t come to Brandy as a human soon, she’d dismiss him. If she dismissed him, he could never reveal what he was to her. If he didn’t reveal what he was to her, she’d never know that all her research wasn’t a silly hobby.

If she didn’t know it wasn’t a silly hobby, she’d never accept him for what he truly was.

What does it matter, wolf? Flidae. Not what he needed right now.

Gritting his teeth, he thought, Even if I don’t get to keep her, I will take this time with her.

I love how you think you are in control, Reardon McAlator. Flidae’s laughter filled his head as painfully as his leg throbbed. You are not.

He clamped his hands over his ears, but her voice still echoed in his skull.

You banished me, Flidae. Deemed me unfit to receive your protection, yet you continue to watch me. Why?

A long beat of silence stretched on, and Reardon didn’t think she was going to answer him.

My punishment was not without terms, wolf. You are to do something worthy. I am simply monitoring your progress.

In order to make progressing more difficult.

Perhaps. And I’m aware of your intention to reveal yourself to this human. Do you think that’s wise?

I don’t want there to be secrets anymore. I think she can handle the knowledge.

A heartbeat of silence. Well, this changes things.

She left his consciousness before he could ask what her statement meant. A wave of dizziness swept over him. He leaned forward and rested his head on his knees, breathing deeply. Angering a goddess had been a foolish move. He’d learned his lesson on that one, but he had to push forward on his plan to tell Brandy what he was. He couldn’t waste any more time because he didn’t know how much he had.

On a silent count of three, Reardon pushed off the toilet and braced himself in the doorway of the small bathroom as all the blood again rushed down to his hurt leg. His fingernails dug into the wood door frame as he fought off the pain. Hopefully Brandy wouldn’t notice the indentations.

He poked his head out of the bathroom and focused his gaze on the front door. It was a straight path, but he dreaded making the journey all the same. Inhaling and exhaling several deep breaths, he took a step and immediately wanted to crumple to the ground.

Crawling to the door might be better anyway.

Reardon slid noiselessly to the floor and used his arms mostly to slither to the front door. By the time he got there, his forehead was covered in sweat and he’d bunched up the long rug Brandy had lining the path to the door. Doing his best to fix the rug, he grabbed hold of the doorknob and pulled himself to standing. He caught sight of an umbrella in a bin by the door and fished that out, using it as a cane. It probably wasn’t strong enough, but he put as much of his weight on it as he could.

With the prowess of a professional burglar, he opened the door and slipped out into the darkness. His progress to the entrance gates was slow and laborious. Several of the other wolves gathered behind him as he struggled. Lug sidled up next to him, Midir on his other side. They nudged his hands as if to say, Lean on us.

“If you were a little bit bigger, I would. Thank you, my friends.” He paused to catch his breath and scratched both wolves between the ears.

Lug licked at the bandage, a small whine escaping his throat.

“I’ll be fine, Lug.”

The other wolves took turns rubbing against him, their concern touching him in ways he couldn’t have imagined. He’d never had a pack. He’d had his army of men, but that was not the same as having a loyal wolf pack, canine brothers and sisters who genuinely cared for him. Perhaps in changing his men to wolves, that was what he’d been looking for—a wolf family. Unfortunately, he now knew turning men to wolves without their consent did not create the bonds he sought.

Only wolves by birth could provide that connection.

Not so, wolf. Flidae again. Couldn’t he have a moment’s peace? There is but one human you can turn to wolf who would be truly connected to you. That is why you can turn humans. For that reason alone. To find your soul mate.

And that was why he’d been in violation of wolf code. He’d turned men into wolves to make killing machines.

Ah, recognition of your mistake. That is progress, wolf. Again, Flidae faded from his mind.

One moment the goddess was angry at him, the next she sounded pleased. That was why Reardon found females—human or divine—so complex. Regardless, the woman back in that log cabin was worth the trouble, so he continued his approach to the entrance gates.

A quiet but steady hum vibrated from the gates. It was a new sound to Reardon, and the other wolves appeared to hear it too, but he unlatched the gates anyway and paused to address the wolves.

“I will be back in a moment, friends.”

He closed the gate, got to the ground, and shifted to wolf form. He could at least jog on three legs through the woods to get to his supplies and speed things up a bit.

When he was dressed in his jeans and a gray T-shirt, his injured leg bandaged beneath the denim, Reardon used the umbrella and limped heavily back to the entrance gates. That humming noise was still present, but he couldn’t sense where it was coming from. The other wolves waited for him, their loyalty and concern touching Reardon in ways he didn’t think possible.

After opening the gates and coming back into the sanctuary, he ambled to the log cabin. The sky was dark and morning was still several hours away. Reardon circled around to the back of the house and sat in one of the patio lounge chairs where he and Brandy had enjoyed each other’s company last night.

Figuring he’d wait for morning there, he stretched out his legs, easing the pressure off his hurt one. He set the umbrella down on the patio beside the chair and let out a quiet chuckle when all fifteen of the wolves spread out on the ground abutting the patio. Like a protective circle, their energy surrounded him and he wondered if they truly knew what he was. That he was like them, but not. They appeared to understand and it warmed him to know he had that connection with them. Though he didn’t belong in this time and place, he didn’t feel alone. Not like he often had in his life before this point.

When Reardon opened his eyes next, morning sun embraced him. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and turned a highly tuned ear toward the log cabin behind him. He immediately picked up the sounds of water running through pipes and imagined Brandy taking a shower. That image made parts of him awaken as he pictured her lovely, naked form covered in water droplets.

He listened until the water noises stopped. At that point, he reached down, grabbed the umbrella, and got to his feet. He tested his injured leg and found it to be tender but not as bad as it had been last night. In fact, he took a few steps away from the lounge chair without incident or cringing in agony.

The upside to being a werewolf. While he knew the wound was still healing, the bulk of the mending had happened while he was asleep. In the next two days or so, the injury would be totally gone save for a slight scar. Scars always lingered… as reminders he supposed.

Reardon set the umbrella on the lounge chair and made his way to the front door of the cabin. Some of the wolves followed him while others continued their early sunbathing. As he raised his hand to knock on the door, Dylan came running over with Meredith a few steps behind him.

“Hey, Reardon!” the boy said, his face full of a delight that made Reardon’s heart swell.

“Good morning, Dylan.” Reardon couldn’t help smiling back at the boy.

“Are you coming over for breakfast?” Dylan asked.

Reardon hesitated and Meredith filled the silence. “Of course he is. Doesn’t he look like a man who knows breakfast is the best meal of the day?”

Dylan squinted up at him, sunshine illuminating the boy’s face. “He looks like a man who thinks all meals are the best.”

Meredith laughed. “Good call, kid.” She put her arm around the boy’s shoulders and looked at Reardon, a squinty-eyed expression on her face similar to Dylan’s. “Did you get held up last night somehow?”

So Meredith knows. And from the firm set of her lips, she wasn’t happy he hadn’t shown last night either. Of course she wasn’t. She didn’t want to see her daughter hurt anymore than Reardon did.

“I did. I’ve come to apologize.” He wished he had some flowers or other gift to enhance his apology.

Meredith walked past him and opened the front door. As Dylan raced in, she looked over her shoulder at Reardon. “Better be a damn good apology, sir.”

She motioned for him to go into the cabin ahead of her and he figured that was a good sign. At least she hadn’t told him to leave. She believed he should have the opportunity to make up for his no-show.

The question was…did Brandy?

“Hey, Mom!” Dylan called out as he ran into the living room.

Reardon held his breath as the boy skidded to a halt and took in the empty wolf bed. Reardon had planned to talk to Brandy alone. Now he had an audience of one boy and one grandmother. He wasn’t exactly ready for that.

“Where’s Alator?” Dylan shot into the kitchen, the dining room, and back to the living room while Reardon stood there, searching his mind for an acceptable story for a missing wolf.

“He couldn’t have gotten too far,” Meredith said. “That leg of his has to be hurting.”

Not as much as you’d think. Standing as he was now, Reardon did his best to keep most of his weight on his right leg as he leaned against the living room doorway.

“MOM!” Dylan ran for the stairs, but Reardon could smell Brandy on her way down.

Gods, she smells wonderful. A fragrant mix of flowers he wanted to bury his nose in and inhale for an eternity.

But eternity with Brandy wasn’t his. He knew this. He had to hurry the hell up and tell her his secrets before time ran out.

“Why hello, son.” Brandy’s voice plucked chords deep inside Reardon and he closed his eyes, relishing the sensations. “What’s all the noise about?”

“Where’s Alator?”

“In the living room,” Brandy said.

“No, he’s not there.” Meredith had stepped into the hall between the front door and the stairs so she could see Brandy.

Reardon could not see her, which meant she could not see him. He stood stone still, wishing he had a better engineered plan.

“Alator’s not here, but someone else is.” Meredith gave Reardon a wink. “C’mon, Dylan. Let’s get some French toast started.” She nodded at Reardon, and he loved the woman for taking it easy on him.

Brandy came around the corner and stopped short at the sight of him. “Oh.” The word escaped on a breath and he couldn’t help grinning a little. When her eyes narrowed, however, he knew to wipe that grin off immediately.

“Hello.” He met her gaze and held it, but the shame of not showing up last night—in the way that she’d expected him to—made him look to the floor.

“Hello? That’s your opening? Hello?”

He was in more trouble than he’d imagined.

“Brandy, please allow me to explain.” Although I’m not sure how to.

She folded her arms across her chest. Her bosom plumped under her tank top and Reardon had to force himself not to moan his appreciation. That would score him no points right now and he needed points.

“Well, go ahead,” she said. “Explain. I can’t wait to hear this one.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t say anything when Brandy walked around him and entered the living room. She took one look at the empty wolf bed and said, “Where’s Alator?”

Right here.

“I don’t know,” he said instead.

Brandy marched into the kitchen where Dylan and Meredith were pulling out the necessary ingredients for breakfast. “Where’s Alator?”

Dylan closed the refrigerator and placed the carton of eggs he’d been holding onto the counter. “I already asked that, but I figured you had him upstairs. You don’t?”

“I couldn’t carry him up there, sweetie. He’s a big wolf. I’m a strong woman, but not that strong.” She checked the dining room, ducking to look under the table, and went back to the living room. “I don’t understand. I left him in the living room last night. He was on the bed.”

“Maybe he got out of the house somehow,” Meredith offered.

“Should we go look for him?” Dylan asked as he put the eggs back in the refrigerator.

“Yes,” Brandy said.

“No,” Reardon said at the same time.

Brandy whirled around to face him. “What do you mean no? One of my wolves is missing. One of my injured wolves is missing. We have to find him. And you don’t get a say in what hap—”

Reardon stepped forward and put his hands on Brandy’s shoulders. “I really need to get my explanation in before you go on a full-scale wolf hunt.”

“Oh, you need to, huh?” Her words were laced with an attitude that wasn’t altogether friendly. She shrugged out of his grip and took a step closer. “I needed you to show up last night.” Her voice was low and a little bit lethal.

She’s got fire. I’ll give her that, Flidae said in Reardon’s head.

Aye, fire. And didn’t he love that about her?

“Listen, let me talk to you privately for a few moments. Things will make sense after that.” Or they’ll sound crazy. Either way, he had to tell her what he was so she wouldn’t go on a search for Alator.

“I might—might—let you talk to me,” she said, “after I find Alator.” She brushed past him and left through the front door.

Reardon caught up to her and was about to insist again that they talk, but Parker was out there, the rifle in his hands pointed at Reardon.

“Don’t move.”