Reardon’s tongue felt as if someone had dumped sand onto it and his eyes did not want to open. With great effort, he forced his lids up, and a blurry scene wavered in front of him. A blurry scene with iron bars crisscrossing over it.

He raised his head off his paws and moved it to the left then to the right, his eyes slowly focusing but not giving him images that made any sense. What were those small suns above him? Why were the many contraptions surrounding him so shiny? What was that smell?

What contained him?

Lifting up onto his two front paws, Reardon attempted to get a better look around, but the pieces of the vision before him still didn’t add up to anything he recognized.

I’m no longer home.

His men. His wolves. Flidae’s wrath. The woods. The pain in his leg.

He wrenched his head back to inspect his injured leg. It didn’t hurt. Why didn’t it hurt? And where had those angry metal jaws gone? Why couldn’t he move the leg at all? What was that hard white substance surrounding it?

Why did he have so many questions?

As a man who rarely questioned anything, now all he could do was question. Unfortunately, he wasn’t getting any answers.

First order of business is to get out of here.

Wherever here was. He hoisted his back end up, but fell down immediately when pain coursed through his injured leg. Luckily, he had three other legs and after a few tries, he managed to stand on only them, putting no pressure on the leg wrapped in the hard, white substance. He couldn’t bend that one at all or put any weight on it.

Eying the door to the cage, Reardon inspected what appeared to be keeping it closed. Little more than an iron stick wedged into an iron loop, the door didn’t look all that substantial. If he shifted, he could easily lift the stick out of the loop, but the uncertainty of his current environment kept him in wolf form. His teeth were his best defense against potential threats.

Coiling up at the back of his prison, he lowered his head and rammed into the door.

Stars exploded in his vision and he hobbled back a few steps, shaking his head from the contact he’d made with the iron bars holding him. After a moment to recover, Reardon clamped his jaws around one of the bars at his level. Tugging and tugging, nothing budged.

He. Was. Captured.

As he was about to have another go at the door, a female voice traveled in from his right. Reardon turned his head toward the sound.

The melodic, merry, comforting sound.

“He’s a big one,” the voice said.

“We have a lot of big wolves, Mom,” a younger voice replied.

“We do, but this lovely is huge.”

Suddenly, a young lad stood in front of Reardon’s… well, his cage. He had to accept the fact that he was detained in a cage. In all his years of fighting, he’d never been captured, never been imprisoned, never been stripped of his dignity.

He’d also never foolishly pissed off a Celtic goddess. He deserved every bit of this shaming.

The boy’s wide eyes, however, didn’t look upon him with disdain. Instead, fascination filled them.

“Whoa!” The boy kneeled, his hands resting on his knees, and tilted his head at Reardon. “And you and Parker found him in the woods last night?”

Last night. Aye. Now Reardon remembered. Two humans had found him caught in those iron jaws. Things had gotten a little foggy after that, but he definitely remembered the red-haired fairy lass who had sat by his side as sleep had overtaken him.

The same red-haired fairy lass who came to stand behind the boy now.

So beautiful.

If he couldn’t smell her flowery scent, he’d think she were merely a mirage. Some spell-induced vision meant to enchant him. Because he was enchanted. Everything about this woman drew him in. Her thick mane of straight red hair falling about her shoulders. Her sky blue eyes regarding him now. Her pale, perfect skin.

Her lips. Her full, pink, tempting lips. Lips that smiled at him and made him want to change back to a man and increase that smile tenfold.

But he couldn’t do that. No sense in scaring the lad studying him or the woman.

“We were in the driveway,” the fairy woman began.

“After your date?” The boy’s brows lowered, his mouth a grim line. Why did that word date upset him? What did it mean?

Something swept across the fairy woman’s features, but she quickly shook it off. “Yes. Parker and I heard a howl that didn’t sound familiar, so we investigated.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” The boy turned to look up at her.

She ruffled his blond hair. “Because boys need their sleep to perform their best at school.” She glanced at her wrist. “Which you will be late for if you don’t get your patoot out to the bus stop, kiddo.”

“Aw, Mom. Can’t I stay home with you today? I’ll learn a lot more hanging around here than in Mrs. Gruper’s class.”

“If you don’t learn anything in Mrs. Gruper’s class today, whose fault is that?” The fairy woman put her hands on her hips and gave the boy a stern look which reminded Reardon of the way Flidae had regarded him and his men.

“Mine,” the boy mumbled as he got to his feet. “Promise me this wolf will still be here when I get home.”

She gestured to Reardon. “He’s not going anywhere with that broken leg.”

Broken leg?

Broken bones didn’t stay broken for long on a man like Reardon. His shifting abilities allowed him to heal faster than an average human, but he now understood the hard, white material covering his leg was meant to immobilize the limb so it could mend. It was an unnecessary course of action, but if it gave him the opportunity to be around the fairy lass, he could deal with the limited maneuverability. In a day or two, the ache would be gone completely and the bones healed.

For right now though, he was safe. He was dry. He had a shelter and if his nose didn’t mislead him, he’d have food.

And he’d have this woman who had taken care of him. What else might she do?

The boy’s gaze lingered on Reardon for a few more seconds before he got to his feet and picked up a sack from the floor.

“Do you have your lunch?” the woman asked.

The boy patted his sack. “It’s right here along with my homework which I know is your next question.”

The woman ruffled the lad’s hair again. “That predictable, am I?”

“A teeny-tiny bit, Mom.” The boy held up a hand with his index finger and thumb a short distance away from each other.

“Fine. But seriously,” the woman gestured to her wrist, “it’s getting late and I’m not driving you to school, Dylan.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” The boy’s shoulders sagged as he trudged to the door. When he reached it, he put his hand on the handle and looked back. “Where do you think he came from?”

“Good question, baby. I’ll call the police today to see if anyone reported him in the area, so maybe we can retrace his steps. I have to call the sheriff anyway.” Her mouth turned down at the corners in a fierce expression no lass as becoming as her should ever wear on her face.

“Because of the traps?” Dylan asked.

“Yes.” The woman walked over to the boy at the door and put her hands on his shoulders. “So take it as a lesson to be careful if you walk outside the perimeter of the sanctuary with Gram, okay?”

“I’m always careful.”

The woman bent and dropped a light kiss on the boy’s head that Reardon couldn’t help wanting for himself. “See you later.”

Dylan gave her a wave before slipping out the door. When the door clicked shut again, the woman wandered back over to Reardon’s cage.

“You are the most regal-looking wolf I’ve ever had the pleasure of boarding here.” She kneeled in front of the cage, her long hair falling forward on her shoulder and releasing more of that flowery scent. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Confused. Achy. Enthralled. He particularly liked that last feeling. Reardon couldn’t remember a time when he couldn’t take his eyes off a woman. No one had ever caught his attention like this. Of course, he’d never been trapped in a cage or had the chance to sit still long enough to truly watch a woman. He’d apparently been missing quite a bit by always running from battlefield to battlefield, chasing riches. Were there woman who looked like this one back home in Ireland? He’d never noticed.

“I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself last night,” she said. “I’m Brandy. I’ll let Dylan name you when he gets home after school. He loves to name the wolves.”

I have a name. But Reardon supposed he could stand to let the boy give him another one for as long as he was there.

And did she say wolves?

Were there more here at this place? Where were they? Why did this woman collect wolves? Was she a goddess like Flidae? She certainly was beautiful enough to be one, but if she was, why was she dressed as she was? Reardon wasn’t sure what to make of her garments.

Or lack of garments as it were.

Green material covered her from waist to mid-thigh, leaving long expanses of creamy white legs exposed. A black, sleeveless tunic covered her torso. Barely. It was like no tunic he’d ever seen. Snug. Very snug. Her bosom was displayed to Reardon’s delight, but was not in any way appropriate for a proper lady. He considered that perhaps Brandy was not a proper lady, but when his gaze met hers, he dismissed the thought. Any woman who rescued an injured, unknown wolf in the dark woods had a compassionate heart and a kind soul.

So he definitely didn’t deserve to be anywhere near her.

“What do you think, big boy?” She stuck two fingers between the bars of the cage. “Do I smell all right to you? Do you think you can trust me?” She wiggled her fingers in invitation.

Finding himself eager to get closer, Reardon shuffled over to her and pushed his nose against her fingers. Her skin smelled even better than the flowery scent coming from her hair. He couldn’t quite identify what she smelled like, but he definitely wanted to smell more of it.

“You’re quite a bit friendlier this morning than you were last night, aren’t you?” She rubbed two of her fingertips along his muzzle and he nearly moaned at her touch. What would more of her fingers on him feel like? And what about on his bare, human skin? How could he get himself into that situation?

Play nice. Aye. If he wasn’t a threat, she wouldn’t need to keep him in that cage. She’d maybe let him roam free. He wouldn’t roam far. That much he could promise. He had this inexplicable need to find out more about this lass.

“Are you hungry?” She didn’t wait for an answer, most likely assuming he couldn’t answer, but he enjoyed that she spoke to him just the same. It was as if she considered him an equal.

If she only knew how equal.

Brandy stood, taking her fingers with her, which made Reardon unhappy. She clanged around for a few moments in an area of the big room he couldn’t see from his cage, and when she returned, she had a bowl filled with meat.

His stomach instantly rumbled and she laughed. “Wow. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

Too long. The last thing he remembered in terms of any sustenance was drinking in the tavern with his men. Drinking quite a bit.

Brandy picked up a few pieces of meat and dropped them into the cage.

Damn. He’d been hoping she’d planned to put the whole bowl in the cage and would have had to open the door. He understood her trepidation though. He was a strange wolf who probably had done too much flashing of his teeth last night while he’d been caught in that trap. He was going to have to work hard at appearing gentle, but far from home and without his army, he had nothing else to do anyway.

Do something worthy.

Maybe he could do something worthy for Brandy and gain back Flidae’s favor. As beautiful as this fairy lass before him was, he still wanted to get home to Ireland. He didn’t belong in this time or this place, whenever and wherever it was. He had to gather his men, apologize, beg Jaemus in particular to forgive him. He’d wronged his own brother in the worst way possible. He had to fix that. Somehow.

Brandy continued dropping meat pieces into the cage, and Reardon ate every morsel. It all tasted wonderful.

When the meat was gone, Brandy disappeared again. She returned with another bowl filled with water. Perhaps Reardon wouldn’t have to wait for her to open the door after all, but she walked to the back of his cage. Awkwardly, he turned around as she unlatched a smaller door—one much too small for him to exit—at the base of the enclosure. She slid the water bowl in and closed the hatch.

Disappointed, but too thirsty to dwell on it, Reardon sloshed down big gulps of water. Soon his tongue didn’t feel so sandy anymore, his stomach wasn’t so empty, and his leg didn’t hurt as much. Simple comforts, but they meant a great deal to him right now.

“Why don’t you lie down, big boy, and relax? You need to take it easy for a little while.”

Reardon lowered to his belly, and Brandy chuckled. The sound vibrated through Reardon and he almost shifted on the spot. Certain she would find a naked man in the cage unsettling, he reined in his ability and closed his eyes. He was sleepy. It was only yesterday he’d fought in a merciless battle, gotten a little drunk, faced an angry goddess, woken up in a strange place, and broken a leg. All that was catching up to him. Now that his leg had been tended to and his belly was full, a nap sounded like an excellent idea.

He’d rather be cuddled up in his human form with Brandy beside him, but he could be patient. Perhaps he’d dream about her at least.

As his eyes were closing, the door Dylan had gone out earlier opened. Reardon raised his head at the prospect of seeing the boy again when another voice—an adult male voice—filled the room.

“How’s our patient?” the voice asked as a man came into view by the cage.

Reardon curled his lips back and let out his lowest, deadliest growl.

A warning. One he didn’t usually have to issue twice.