With another snap of lightning, a raven-haired woman appeared, a foggy mist surrounding her as she approached Reardon and his men. The mist dissipated by the time she stood in front of them. Leafy garland was woven into her black tresses, and her dress was made of layered ferns. Her skin was luminescent, shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow, but her eyes were a fiery violet, all too ready to cut into Reardon.

She was as beautiful as she was frightening.

One by one, Reardon’s men shifted into complete wolf form. Sometimes fear and other extreme emotions could bring on the change. Reardon could barely swallow as he fought to remain in human form.

“You do not consider the ability I’ve bestowed upon you a gift, Seventh Son?” Her voice was musical, but it made Reardon’s skin prickle all the same.

He bowed before her. “My apologies, fair goddess.”

An invisible force ripped Reardon out of his bow. His body was not under his control as his head was wrenched up to look at her.

“Your apologies are not enough, wolf. You have shared your gift in a manner it was not meant to be shared. You have used your gift to kill. You have insulted me.”

“I didn’t intend—”

“To kill?” Flidae’s eyes flared brighter, her beautiful face transforming into something Reardon was certain he’d have nightmares about for the rest of his life… however long that might be. She rose to a height that towered over all of them. At a height that towered over most men and a body full of muscle, Reardon never felt small.

He did right now.

Thick, black clouds formed overhead. When another flash of lightning lit up the shores, rain fell, beating against Reardon and his men.

“You most certainly did intend to kill, McAlator. You forget I can see into the souls of all wild things. As part wolf, you are part wild thing.” Flidae hovered above them, her hair swirling around her like thick, black rope—rope ready to hang Reardon and his men who were still in wolf form, their noses to the ground in submission.“Your intentions are as clear to me as they are to you. You purposely turned your comrades, not only without my consent, but without theirs as well. You let your thirst for fame and riches take control. You feared losing in battle and took a coward’s course of action.”

Reardon wanted to disagree, to yell back in defense, to deny all Flidae had said, but he couldn’t. She spoke the truth, and he hated himself as soft whines emanated from his four closest men.

Flidae floated above him and he wondered what she was doing to his wolves. 

“Your wolves?” She let out an echoing laugh that hurt Reardon’s head. He hated how easily she could read his thoughts. “Do not make yourself out to be more important than you are, wolf. You are mine, and as such, any wolves you make are also mine. Do you know what this means?”

Reardon shook his head, trying too hard not to shift under the pressure of her power to answer with actual words. The rain was like spear tips against his skin, and he couldn’t stop the shiver the cold wetness caused.

“It means I decide how to punish you for your transgressions.”

In the blink of an eye, Flidae shrank to a petite woman’s size. Unaffected by the rain, she slinked up to Reardon, and he had to look down to meet her simmering gaze. Her form was harmless, but he was not fool enough to believe she couldn’t strike him down where he stood. Part of him believed she meant to do just that.

“It is my job to protect wild things, Reardon McAlator. Whether you know it or not, I’ve protected you since the day you came into this world. As a Seventh Son born on a December full moon, you were bestowed with a gift I do not give out carelessly. My decision was carefully made, matching your soul to this body and this gift.” She gestured to him then to the wolves writhing on the muddy ground at their feet. “And you chose not to honor my decision.”

“Then why give me the power to transform others if it was not your will for me to do so?” He knew he was pressing his luck by questioning her again, but his moments left to live were probably few anyway. What did it matter now?

Flidae narrowed her eyes at him. “That power was to be used for one purpose and one purpose only.”

“What purpose is that?”

“To change your soul mate should she want to be like you.”

Reardon nearly laughed in her face. Soul mate? As if he’d even considered finding one with the life he lived. No lass would accept a man like him who killed for money and roamed the lands in search of battle. He didn’t plan to settle down and churn out heirs, especially if he could potentially father a Seventh Son like himself and put the child in a situation even remotely like the one he found himself in now.

Besides, he wasn’t worthy of a lass’s love. Not with the blood he had on his hands.

“Not true, wolf. Not true at all.” Flidae smiled. “You might think you are not worthy, but the right lass can see the things you don’t know about yourself, the things you don’t allow yourself to see, the things that might redeem you.”

She threw her hands over her head, and Reardon cursed himself for flinching as if she were about to strike him a blow. With a wave of her arms, the four wolves around them changed back into men. Naked men, their torn clothes littering the ground, mud splattering their flesh.

“As punishment for what you’ve done as men and as wolves,” Flidae said, “you shall no longer be under my protection nor shall you remain a pack together. I banish you five from this time and place. Ireland has no room for those who disrespect the gods and goddesses. I am, however, fair and choose to believe you will repent during your time away. Therefore, I will allow you back under my protection when you do something worthy, something so selfless that I can feel your heart growing. Do not disappoint me, wolves.”

A final crackle of light lit up the area, blinding Reardon and making him cover his head. When he opened his eyes, the beautiful shores of his beloved Ireland were gone. Instead, he was naked in a forest, damp leaves beneath his bare ass and a horrible hollow feeling filling his chest.

Where was he? Where were his men? What was he supposed to do now? Being naked in the woods did not leave him a great many options.

Think. He’d led a powerful army. He’d enjoyed victory in battle after battle. He’d managed to come before a goddess and keep his life. He could figure out what should happen next.

Do something worthy. Flidae’s words echoed in his head. He only had to do something worthy and he could go back home to Ireland. He could go back home and… and what? Clearly killing for money in wolf form was not something Flidae approved of, and he had no guarantee the other four men would do something worthy as quickly as he did. He also had doubts they would pledge any kind of allegiance to him considering what had happened. What good was a leader without men to lead? He’d also have to face the anger the men were throwing his way as Flidae chastised them. They probably wouldn’t follow his command anymore.

Why should they? He’d done the unforgivable to men who had only showed him loyalty. He’d disregarded their will. He’d made life-altering decisions for them that were not his to make.

He’d been greedy. Just as Flidae had said.

Sitting, Reardon rested his elbows on his bent knees and held his head in his hands. That empty feeling in his chest nearly overwhelmed him. He’d fought alongside his men for so long, shared quarters with them, dined with them. They were his brothers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly alone.

But he was alone now. No link to his men, his new wolves, his beloved Ireland.

With a growl, he shifted to wolf form and took off at a run through the unfamiliar woods, weaving between trees as dirt and leaves churned up under his large paws. The warm air—so different from the cool rain he’d shivered under only moments ago—settled in his fur as he streaked through the forest, the scent of earth filling his nose. It didn’t smell like Ireland.

He came to an abrupt stop at the base of a huge pine tree, his lungs heaving. Although his senses were still sharpened, that connection to nature he’d always had when in wolf form was gone. Severed. Flidae had meant what she said about him not being under her protection. He felt separate and the sensation disoriented him.

He ran for a few more minutes, the night sky barely visible through the dense canopy of maple, birch, and beech trees. Running was the only thing that made sense right now. The only thing he could be successful at after being banished from the only home he’d ever known. He lived a brutal existence, but it was the existence he’d chosen… or the one that had chosen him. Either way, he was made to lead, to fight, to win. The defeat he’d experienced today at Flidae’s hands destroyed him. The guilt over turning his men without their consent tore out his heart.

Reardon McAlator officially had no one. This shouldn’t have been a big deal. He’d made a life out of ripping apart men in battle, of counting his rewards, of searching for his next contract. Now he had to do something worthy.

What does that even mean?

Worthy work to him was leading his army to victory. He had no army, no opponents, no battle, no king ready to pay him and his men handsomely for their skills.

He was just a wolf running in the dark woods. Woods he didn’t know. Where was he going?

And where are all the people?

Did no humans exist in this time and place Flidae had banished him to? Had his men ended up in more populated places? More dangerous places?

How could he have brought this on his most trusted men? How could he ever hope to make it up to them should they be reunited?

Reardon pushed his wolf form harder until the woods streaked by in a blur around him. His only plan right now was to run. Run fast. Run until he couldn’t run anymore. He appeared to still have his strength, so running forever was a distinct possibility. Maybe he could outrun this horrible situation Flidae had put him in.

No. I put myself here.

He had no one to blame but himself. The burden rested on his shoulders alone.

After sloshing through a shallow stream, he stopped for a moment to take a drink, then picked up his former gallop until a sudden, excruciating pain bit at his back right leg. A howl tore from his throat as he fell, his nose digging into the dirt and leaves. He panted, twisting in agony for a few moments, trying desperately to stay conscious. It felt as if someone had set his back leg on fire and soon that fire would consume him.

Get up. I’m stronger than this.

Hell, he’d been stabbed and sliced with swords and spears for most of his adult life. Whatever had just happened to his leg should be nothing in comparison.

Only it felt much, much worse.

Inhaling, he attempted to raise his head and look at his leg. An iron set of teeth had a crushing grip on him. Blood ran through his fur, warm and slick, and was that bone jutting out? A wave of nausea rolled over him and he looked away, not usually so squeamish. Maybe Flidae had taken more from him than he’d realized.

He considered his options for getting free and, unfortunately, he could only come up with one doable course of action—shift back to human form so he could use his hands to pry open the jaws. Shifting back to human was normally not a monumental task because he was used to the metamorphosis at this point, but what he didn’t look forward to was the increase in pain he would feel. The human body was not as tolerant of pain as his wolf form was, but he could see no other way of releasing himself. In his hybrid wolfman form, his clawed hands would be as useless as his paws would be. Only human hands would work.

And I’ll die if I stay like this.

For a long moment, he contemplated dying, pondered letting himself go, but it wasn’t in his nature to surrender. Ever. Clearly he was willing to do whatever it took to win… even betray his brothers in battle and anger goddesses.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he channeled his energy into shifting, but a snap of a twig nearby made him stop. Shuffling sounded and a circle of light bounced around amidst the dark trees. Voices traveled to him on the humid breeze.

He was not alone in these strange woods.

****

“It’s over this way I think.” Brandy led Parker through the woods on the sanctuary. They’d been in her driveway after The Blind Date from Hell when a pained howl echoed in the darkness. She’d immediately grabbed the flashlight and medical kit she kept by the door of her cabin, and Parker hadn’t hesitated to follow her.

“That howl didn’t sound like one of our furry friends.” Parker held a tranquilizer gun in his hands, ready to point it in any direction Brandy needed him to.

She smiled over Parker having her back just as he had tonight. Chella’s cousin, Marshall, was… was… what was he? Shit, she didn’t have the right words to describe him. At 5’6”, he was shorter than she was and skinny as a rail. With light brown hair and large brown eyes magnified a little by thick glasses, he reminded Brandy of a deer. Tentative, skittish, apt to bound accidentally in front of a logging truck. She’d taken one look at Marshall then slid her gaze to Parker, an apology already radiating from his facial expression. She then narrowed her eyes at Chella who was draped alongside Parker with a smug grin on her bright red lips.

What the hell was she hoping to accomplish by setting Brandy up with Marshall? No matter how nice a guy Chella’s cousin may have been, Brandy lived a rugged life intricately tied to the woods and the wolves. She spent most of her time working outside no matter the weather and her leisure activities included mountain and rock climbing, skiing, snowboarding, ATVing, snowmobiling… all things Marshall did not look interested in at all. Hell, a case of chapped lips would most likely crush him.

Give him a try.

She’d reminded herself of what Meredith was always telling her. “Love comes in all sorts of packages, Brandy. You’ve got to be willing to peel off the layers of wrapping paper and be open to the surprise waiting inside.”

Brandy’s parents had met in an airport in Colorado when their flights were cancelled and they were both waiting around at the mercy of the airlines and the weather. Fletcher Wendon was in no way the man Meredith had expected to steal her heart. He was a redhead. She never liked redheads. He had a beard. She hated beards. He had the gunk of a mechanic caked under his fingernails. She despised gunk and didn’t know shit about cars.

All that slipped by the wayside as they shared a meal at a tiny diner near the airport. Fletcher had charmed Meredith, obliterating her predetermined qualifications for a potential spouse. The two were married about six months after their initial encounter and had enjoyed their marriage on a daily basis right up until Fletcher passed away from a heart attack a few years ago. Brandy could only hope to find a love like her parents had shared.

But she definitely was not finding that love with Marshall.

He’d asked a hundred questions about food on the menu where they’d dined, causing the waiter to send her sympathetic glances. He’d spilled his wine in her lap then made no move to help clean it. His laugh was akin to the squawking of an agitated crow. Actually, no. That wasn’t fair to crows. He also didn’t want to order dessert after dinner. Now, as eager as Brandy was to end the date, she still had dessert in mind. What kind of guy didn’t want dessert? No kind of guy for her.

The killing blow, however, was when Parker and Brandy had a conversation about the wolves at the sanctuary and Marshall said, “Wolves are portrayed as big and bad in literature for a reason.”

Brandy had blinked at him for a solid ten-count before signaling to the waiter to bring their check. She’d paid for her dinner after Marshall hadn’t offered and driven home, equal parts relieved the date was done and depressed the evening hadn’t turned up her soul mate.

Soul mate. What a dumb notion.

Parker had apparently dropped Chella and Marshall off at Chella’s house then zipped to Brandy’s place to check on her. Too bad she and Parker didn’t have the necessary chemistry. He could be such a knight in shining armor sometimes.

Such a knight that he was willing to trudge through the dark woods to investigate an unfamiliar howl.

“Listen, B,” Parker said as they climbed up a small hill. “I’m sorry I forced you into the Marshall situation.”

She bumped shoulders with him. “No problem, buddy.”

“Just don’t do it ever again?”

“Never ever.”

“Got it.” He puffed out a breath. “I figured he’d be like Chella.”

Even more reason to never ever.

“I think I see something over here.” She led Parker to the fence that ran along the perimeter of the sanctuary. Sure enough, when she swung the flashlight beam from the left to the right, a pair of eyes reflected back to them.

“Hold the flashlight steady and I’ll hop the fence,” Parker said, looping the strap on the tranq gun over his shoulder.

“Are you giving me the ‘I’ll handle this, little lady’ speech?” She directed the flashlight beam onto Parker’s face.

He scrunched up his cheeks, his eyes becoming mere slits as his hands blocked the harsh light. “I’m guessing you don’t want to hear that speech.”

“Good guess, genius.” She pushed the flashlight and medical kit into his hands and in a move Parker didn’t have time to stop, she’d scaled the chain-link fence, landing softly on the other side. “Give me that stuff and come over.” She squeezed her hand through the links and took the flashlight then reached for the gun and medical kit over the top of the fence.

A few seconds later, Parker stood beside her and took the tranq gun back. “I think Marshall would have loved this portion of the evening.”

“Yeah, if by ‘loved’ you mean hated.” Brandy shined the light in the direction where she’d seen the eyes and once again caught them in the beam. She moved the flashlight from side to side. “Wow. This guy is big.”

“And very much caught in a trap.” Parker nudged Brandy’s hand down so the light shined on the wolf’s hindquarters.

“Shit.” Brandy ground her teeth so hard she could hear them crunch together. “How many times do I have to beg Hank Swift to keep his goddamn traps away from us?”

“At least once more it appears.” Parker took a few slow steps forward.

Approaching a wounded wolf took a great deal of caution. The animal didn’t always recognize a helping human from a jackass bent on catching it in a trap for no good reason. Hank didn’t have livestock anymore for wolves to prey on. He’d gambled them all away about a year ago, but that hadn’t stopped him from being able to afford these metal jaws of death he kept leaving around.

“I’m getting the sheriff involved this time. That poor wolf doesn’t deserve this.”

“The trap isn’t technically on your land though, B.”

“I know, but it’s still a safety risk for our wolves. What’s our point in doing all this rehabilitation when they could set one foot out of the sanctuary and end up like this unlucky fellow?”

“Hey, I agree with you, but I’m not sure Sheriff Olsen can do anything.” Parker motioned her over with the light as he got closer to the injured wolf. “It’s still worth a shot though.”

Brandy put calling the sheriff on the top of her to-do list for tomorrow. “Why isn’t this wolf whimpering or something? It’s as if he let out that one howl and that was all he had. He’s got to be in incredible pain.” She huddled behind Parker to get a better look. “Ah, shit. Is that bone?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Poor baby.”

As soon as the words left her lips, the wolf—a giant black one—curled its lips back and let out a low warning growl. Its teeth were razor-sharp and quite ready to tear into any humans who were stupid enough to get close.

“So yeah,” Parker said, “we tranqing this dude?”

“He does appear to be less than friendly at the moment,” Brandy agreed. “But who can blame him? I’d be pissed if my leg got mangled in steel jaws.”

“You get pissed when someone drops wine in your lap, never mind legs caught in traps.”

“Shut it, Parker. You wouldn’t have been comfortable wearing wine-soaked jeans either. Pull the trigger, will you?” She poked him in the shoulder.

He let out a soft laugh and squeezed off a shot. The dart landed in the wolf’s rear flank which released another growl from the angry, injured beastie.

“We’re not making friends with him so far.” Parker shouldered the tranq gun again while he and Brandy crouched together about twenty feet away from the wolf, waiting for it to pass out.

“He’ll thank us when he’s all healed up.” Brandy had never had a wolf reject her help or turn on her. Meredith said it was because she knew how to connect with animals on a level most humans didn’t. Whatever the case may be, she valued the relationships she had with all her wolf tenants. She’d offer this new wolf the same level of care and hospitality she gave everyone at Silver Moon.

“That break looks pretty bad,” Parker said, taking the flashlight and shining it directly on the wolf’s back leg as the creature’s head drooped.

“Nothing like a little midnight surgery, right?” Brandy squeezed his shoulder.

“And here I was hoping to get laid before bed, not set a wolf’s leg.” Parker sighed.

Brandy cupped her hands over her ears. “La-la-la-la. Don’t want to hear about your sex life, Dr. Daniels.”

“What? You weren’t hoping to get busy with Marshall?”

“I’d probably crush him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man that skinny before.” Brandy wasn’t super picky about her dream guy, but a little bulk—something that told her he could hold his own in a street fight—would be nice. Not that many street fights broke out in the Vermont woods, but she needed a guy who was solid and could bring a pair of work boots to life. Cheap flip-flops would have been too much for Marshall to lift.

They huddled in the darkness until the wolf’s head hit the ground and it stayed motionless for a few minutes.

“Nighty-night, big boy.” Brandy approached first, going immediately to the trap and hitting the release mechanism on it. Fresh blood spurted out of the puncture wounds and she worked quickly to pack the leg and wrap it tightly with bandages from the medical kit.

“He looks too heavy to carry,” Parker said. “One of us should run back for a vehicle. Evens or odds?” He held out his fist ready to shoot for staying or going. That was how he and Brandy made most of their job delegation choices.

“Odds… you know, to go with my night so far.” Brandy held out her fist too.

“Once, twice, three times, shoot,” Parker said.

He held out two fingers, while Brandy held out one.

“Three. I win.” She did a little victory dance. “I choose staying here with this handsome guy. You go get the utility vehicle. It’s in the barn. You’ve got the key, right?”

Parker headed back to the fence after handing the tranq gun to Brandy and taking the flashlight. “Yup. Right here.” He dug in his pocket then keys jingled in the darkness. “You’ll be all right without a light?”

“Sure,” Brandy said. “I’ll tap into my wolf side.”

“You spend enough time with them that you having a wolf side is almost not a joke anymore.” The light retreated with him. “Be right back.”

Brandy heard him hop the fence, land on the other side, and take off at a run through the woods back toward the sanctuary’s barn. She took this opportunity to run her hand over the wolf’s fur. It was a little coarse, but still soft enough to make her want to snuggle with it. Did that make her a weirdo? Who wanted to snuggle with a wolf?

Just crazy Dr. Brandy Wendon. She exhaled a loud breath. No wonder she was alone in the man department. She was too nuts about the wolves to give a man attention even if she could find one she wanted. Besides, she had Dylan to take care of. Her time was stretched tight. A relationship would only pull those strings tighter.

And tight strings tended to snap.

“But I always have time for a big beauty like you,” she whispered to the sleeping wolf and mentally composed a list of what she and Parker would need to operate tonight. Fortunately they kept the clinic well stocked and this guy would get exactly the right care.

In the darkness, she couldn’t see too much, but something about having her hand on this wolf was… comforting. The gentle rise and fall of its side under her palm. The quiet hush of its inhales and exhales filling her ears. The musky scent of its warm body teasing her nose.

She always felt connected when with her wolves, but this was different.

This was like an empty space inside her had been colored in and had changed the entire picture.