“No, no, big boy.” Brandy jogged over to the wolf’s cage. “Parker is our friend. He fixed that leg of yours. You be nice.” She wagged a finger.

The wolf’s teeth were still showing, but he didn’t release another one of those growls—the kind of growl that could make a man’s heart stop. Low and predatory. Alpha.

The more Brandy studied the gorgeous wolf, the more she suspected he was indeed Alpha of a powerful pack somewhere. The notion of reuniting him with that pack didn’t fill her with the usual content though. Something about the green-gold eyes of this beauty made her want to keep him at the sanctuary. Keep him for herself. Combine those magnificent eyes with the thick coat of ebony fur covering a muscular body and Brandy was looking at the most regal wolf she’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. The little piece missing from the tip of his left ear gave him a badass aura as if he’d seen many battles and his opponents hadn’t lived to tell the tale.

“Should I leave?” Parker hadn’t moved since the wolf let out his warning growl.

“Of course not.” Brandy elbowed Parker. “Are you going to let him win?”

“Normally, I’d say hell no, but this guy looks as if he’d love to tear my flesh right off my bones.” Parker slowly pointed a finger at the wolf whose eyes actually looked as if they were electric. That green-gold color didn’t look the same as it had when it was just Brandy talking to the wolf in the clinic earlier. Now they were almost… glowing.

Brandy squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. This was what she got for staying up into the wee hours of the morning, assisting in surgery, and making sure strange wolves were comfortable. Glowing eyes? Get real. She had to lay off reading that clinical lycanthropy bullshit too. It was messing with her reality.

“He’s not going to hurt you.” Brandy kneeled again by the cage and stuck her fingers in.

“Are you insane?” Parker whispered. “Do you not need those two fingers?”

“Oh, stop it. He’s just feeling a little protective, aren’t you, big boy?” She wiggled her fingers and slowly the wolf’s gaze slid from Parker to her. “That’s a good wolf. See, Park, he and I bonded while you weren’t here.”

“Great. So now he thinks you’re his?”

Brandy laughed. “Something like that.” She wouldn’t mind belonging to someone, though she did have someone of the two-legged variety in mind. “Besides, he can’t hurt you from inside that cage.”

“I know, but I’d rather him not think I’m an enemy right from the start. I know you. You’re dying to let him out.”

One of her biggest joys at the sanctuary was watching the wolves that lived there roam through the woods. “I can’t help it. Seeing them caged makes me sad. Wolves are meant to own the forest.”

The big wolf licked her fingers and snuffled around as if to agree with her statement. It infuriated her that most of these wolves had gotten injured or sick due to idiotic humans. The bastard responsible for the traps being out in the woods was undoubtedly the biggest idiotic human she’d ever come across.

Hank Swift owned a farm to the west of the sanctuary’s lands. It used to be a big, thriving farm that grew hundreds upon hundreds of rows of corn and other vegetables and raised both beef cattle and dairy cows along with chickens, goats, and horses. About ten years ago, a person could go to Swift Winds Farm and get everything from fresh tomatoes to prime cuts of beef to soaps and other products made from goat’s milk to a pony for little Suzie’s birthday present. Hank’s farm was the farm in Canville, Vermont.

Until his wife, Peggy Swift, left him.

Rumor around town was she shacked up with a younger man she’d met at the local gas station and had run off to California with the dude. Hank never confirmed or denied the stories, but from the moment he’d discovered she had left, his soul had turned black. He drank too much. He smoked too much. He let his crops shrivel and die. He sold off all his livestock and went to Connecticut to gamble.

Well, to lose actually.

Currently, he lived in the white farm house on the property that used to have beautiful hanging baskets of petunias, blooming bright red all through the summer. Now the entire porch leaned away from the house and had an ornery porcupine living under it. A single rickety rocking chair sat to the left of the door, and Hank’s shotgun was always leaning against the railing, a silent warning to get off his land or he’d blow a hole clean through you.

Brandy had unfortunately encountered Hank on too many occasions lately. She kept spotting his traps set up in the woods just outside the perimeter of the sanctuary. Though they weren’t on her land, she worried about her wolves, her son, and her mother accidently stepping on one and getting seriously injured. She’d heard enough stories about humans losing parts of their legs after getting stuck in animal traps. If anything like that ever happened to Dylan, she’d… she’d… she’d lose it.

She’d called Sheriff Olsen this morning and he’d assured her he would pay Hank a visit and see what he could do. She only hoped Hank would hear the message and pull all his traps for good.

Parker kneeled beside her and the wolf let out a low rumble. “Look, man. I found her first.”

Brandy threw her free arm around Parker’s shoulders. “He’s right, big boy. Parker and I go way back.”

“Yeah, I knew her when she was a dorky little graduate student.” He pulled on her hair.

“I wasn’t dorky.” She nudged him. “I was studious. There’s a difference.”

“It must be a very subtle one.”

“Look, I’m trying to get this wolf to like you, Park. You’re not making it easy. In fact, I’m starting not to like you too.”

“Ouch. Take that back. You love me.”

“Like the brother I never wanted.”

“Like the brother who will set you up on more blind dates if you’re not nice to him.”

Brandy held out her hand. “Truce?”

They shook hands then Parker said, “Chella said she’s sorry it didn’t work out between you and Marshall.”

A small puff of air released itself from her lips before she could contain it.

Parker sat on the floor by the cage, his legs crisscrossed in front of him. “You don’t believe she’s sorry?”

“I believe she wants me to find someone so she doesn’t have to worry about… well… you know…” She did not want to voice her opinion. To date, she’d kept her feelings about Chella to herself. Parker seemed happy and she could support him even if she suspected Chella was not the right girl for him. What did she know about love anyway? If Chella made Parker smile, who was she to say they weren’t a good match?

“So she doesn’t have to worry about us getting together?” Parker’s eyebrows lowered over his warm brown eyes. “I didn’t think you knew about her being jealous of you.”

Yikes. She’d half thought she’d been off the mark on that jealousy thing, but here he was confirming it.

“Chicks can sense these things.” She shrugged, wanting to end this conversation before it got awkward.

“I keep telling her we’re more like family, but she doesn’t see it that way.”

“Does she know we tried dating in college and it didn’t take?” Brandy swiveled and crisscrossed her legs so her knees almost touched Parker’s. The wolf sat in the cage as if listening to the exchange as well.

“Yeah. I told her a while ago and she freaked. I reiterated the part where it didn’t take about a million times, but she said, ‘How could it not work out? She’s beautiful. You’re gorgeous. You’re both interested in naturey stuff.’ Her words.” Parker rolled his eyes.

“Of course. You’d never call what we do ‘naturey stuff.’”

“Nope. Anyway, she didn’t think there was any way you and I wouldn’t work.” Parker blinked at his lap for a minute before raising his gaze back to her face. “Do you sometimes wonder if… I don’t know… if we didn’t give us enough of a chance?”

“Umm…” Brandy swallowed loudly. Now and then, when she was feeling particularly lonely, she did consider maybe Parker had been The One. Then they’d work on something together at the sanctuary and she’d go back to believing friendship was the right course for them. “Do you?”

Parker shrugged his right shoulder. “Maybe.”

Interesting. Here she’d been thinking he was head over heels for Cruella Chella, but maybe he had his doubts about her too.

“We could kiss right now and see what happens.” The words left her mouth before she’d had a chance to think about them.

Parker’s eyes bugged. “Uhh, yeah. I guess we could.”

“Hey, Park, we’re people of science. Consider it an experiment. We’re just testing a theory.”

“Right. Gathering data.”

“Exactly.”

“What if the theory that we should be together is supported by the data?” He shifted to his knees as she did the same.

The wolf let out a little whine as if he didn’t approve of this experiment, but that was silly. What did a wolf know about human relationships? It had to be less than Brandy did.

“Then, as scientists, we will have to design other experiments and collect more data.”

“Okay.” Parker stood and held out his hand to Brandy. He pulled her to her feet when she took it, the wolf pacing in clumsy circles in his cage beside them. “He doesn’t seem to like this idea.”

So Parker noticed that too. Hmm.

“Too bad. Two-legged occupants of the clinic are in charge.” Or were they? What they were about to do was totally crazy.

And she’d been the one to suggest it.

“Should we do an on-the-count-of-three type thing?” Parker was still holding her hand and his was noticeably clammy.

“Sure. That works. On three or after three?” This was quite possibly the dumbest conversation she and Parker had ever had.

“After three. On three will put our lips in an odd position.”

“True. Okay.”

Brandy stared into Parker’s brown eyes and the two of them began counting. At one, they each took a step closer to one another. On two, Parker let go of her hands and put his on her hips, coaxing her closer still. Brandy put her hands on Parker’s shoulders and leaned in for the kiss.

“Three,” Parker whispered.

Their lips met and while his were soft and warm and tasted slightly of minty toothpaste, Brandy could tell they still didn’t have a soul mate connection. His kiss was perfectly acceptable. Not too much pressure. Not too much saliva. Not too much tongue.

Just not enough… spark.

They mutually ended the kiss and took a step back from each other. Parker stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Brandy folded her arms across her chest. A silent moment stretched between them.

Parker cleared his throat.

Brandy studied her work boots.

“So…” Parker said.

“Yeah.” Brandy met his gaze. “Nothing. Right?”

“Not a thing.” He whooshed out a breath. “I mean, you’re a great kisser.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks. You too.” She arrowed her hands at him. “Nothing wrong with the kissing itself.”

“Not at all. Just no… you know…” He ran his hand through his brown hair, mussing it adorably.

Brandy fiddled with the end of her hair. “No sizzle.”

“No sizzle. Definitely.”

“Well, okay then. That’s all settled.” Brandy clapped her hands together. “And we’ll never speak about it again, right?”

“That experiment goes to the grave with us both.” Parker wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans.

“And this wolf. He witnessed it all, but he’ll never tell.”

“He better not.” Parker glanced at the wolf. “But why do I feel as if he’s judging us?”

“You maybe.” Brandy gave Parker a shove. “He likes me.”

Parker shoved her back. “I’ll let you two be alone then. He seems to be doing well, and I’ve got an alpaca over in Burlington that needs my expert attention.”

“You’re so important, Dr. Daniels.” Brandy used a high girly voice and batted her eyelashes as she fanned herself with her hand.

Parker laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, B.”

She gave him a wave and listened for the door closing before slumping to the floor beside the wolf’s cage. “Oh my God, big boy. That was weird. Have you ever kissed your best friend?” She turned to look at the black beauty whose green-gold eyes were so intensely focused on her. A strange warmth grew in the middle of her chest and radiated to parts below.

Great. The gaze of an animal was turning her on. This day was just plain odd. She’d thought the wolf’s eyes were glowing. She’d kissed Parker. Now she’d swear she was feeling something for this wolf. She needed to get it together and quickly.

“Let’s see how you react to another wolf, shall we?”

She got to her feet and shuffled to the door, intending to find Lug and bring him in. He was the friendliest and most laid back of all the wolves. If anyone could make friends with the new guy, it was Lug.

Brandy opened the door to find Hank Swift standing on the other side of it instead.

He pushed his way in and pinned Brandy to the wall. “You called the fucking police on me.”

“Listen, Hank, I—”

“I don’t want to hear any explanations, bitch.”

A loud clang sounded behind her as Hank increased the pressure of his forearm across her chest. She risked a glance in the direction of the noise and widened her eyes at the wolf cage now on its side.

The empty wolf cage.

****

Reardon bolted toward the man with his hands on Brandy. He’d had enough of watching men have their hands on her, and although she hadn’t minded that Parker lad touching her, Brandy definitely did not like this new man pinning her against the wall. Her fear filled Reardon’s nostrils, and the only thing he could think about was sinking his teeth into the bastard’s flesh.

He let out a low warning growl and prepared to lunge when the man didn’t let go of Brandy right away.

“Go ahead, mutt,” the man said, not loosening his hold on Brandy. “Bite me and then I’ll have a great case for shutting down this fucking mangy zoo.”

Brandy’s gaze connected with Reardon’s and he read her plea not to bite the stranger, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t scare the potatoes out of him. Instead of biting, he went through a series of lunges, accompanied by his fiercest barking, snarling, and growling. He made sure he displayed every single one of his sizable teeth and he reared up on his hind legs a few times—though it pained his injured one—so the stranger could see how big he was. Saliva flew from Reardon’s jaws as they snapped and his claws scraped noisily against the room’s flooring.

The color left the man’s cheeks and, slowly, he released his hold on Brandy and backed toward the door. Reardon didn’t relent though. He kept up his menacing act until the man was on the step outside the door and still backing up.

“I’m leaving!” he shouted at Reardon. His gaze went to Brandy. “But this isn’t over. I got a right to put those traps out. If your beasts are too stupid to stay out of them, it’s not my problem.”

Brandy came up behind Reardon. “It will definitely be your problem if my son or anyone else I know accidently steps into one of your Jaws of Death, Hank. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Call the cops again, and you can count on someone getting hurt.”

Hank turned around and Reardon had to stop himself from running after his retreating form, ripping him limb from limb, and pissing all over his shredded carcass. The only thing that truly kept him from doing any of those things was Brandy falling to her knees behind him.

A sob rose from her and the sound arrowed through Reardon’s heart. This woman had been nothing but kind to him, and he couldn’t imagine reacting to her the way that bastard had. Clearly, he was the one in the wrong. Reardon knew firsthand how wrong. He had a chewed up leg from one of the traps as evidence. And though Reardon didn’t have much experience with a respectable lass like Brandy, he knew for sure a gentleman didn’t talk to one the way that man had. Nor did he put his hands on a lass. Not unless he’d been invited to do so and then only with the utmost reverence.

More sobs followed the first one, and Reardon longed to shift so he could gather Brandy in his arms to comfort her. Deciding that would startle her more than console, he settled for sidling up next to her and going into a submissive position. He rested his chin on his paws, but kept edging closer, closer, closer. He didn’t stop until his head was in her lap and her hands had found their way into his thick fur. Reardon wasn’t sure if Brandy was conscious of what she was doing, but he did not want her to stop.

Her touch was… amazing.

She folded forward, burying her face in the fur of his neck, and he turned his head enough to lick her soft cheek. She tasted as good as she smelled and his desire for her increased tenfold. If they stayed this close, he was definitely going to shift and scare her. Not only would there be a large, naked man on the floor beside her, but a large, naked erection as well.

He licked her cheek again—he couldn’t resist—then backed up to sit on his haunches, his injured leg making the position painful.

Brandy ran her hands over her face, attempting to dry her tears. “I’m sorry, big boy. I don’t usually fall apart like that.” She sniffed and twisted all that magnificent fiery red hair onto one shoulder. “But I’ve never been so frightened in all my life.” She let out a little mirthless laugh. “And I coexist with wild animals.”

As she puffed out a breath and pushed herself over to lean against the wall by the door, Reardon sat perfectly still. He didn’t want to cause the lass any more stress, and more importantly, he didn’t want her to come to her senses and realize he was no longer contained in the cage.

Look harmless. Aye, that would win her over. He got into a lie down position again, head resting on paws, and managed a friendly tail wag. Normally, Reardon McAlator, leader of the fiercest army in Ireland, did not wag his tail for anyone.

But this lass? He’d quite possibly do anything for this lass though he barely knew her.

“Brandy!” a female voice called from the other end of the room.

Reardon remained in his submissive posture, sensing no harm from the other woman’s voice.

“Over here, Mom,” Brandy said.

The fairy lass has a mother. Of course she did. Reardon had had one too. Long ago. Before he turned into a wolf that first time. Before he became a monster on the battlefield.

A woman with shoulder-length, silvery hair rushed to Brandy’s side. She’d barely given Reardon a second glance as she stepped around him and got to her knees beside her daughter.

“Are you all right? I saw Hank running from the clinic, and I knew he was here causing trouble. I’d like to get my hands around his neck and… and…” She wrapped her arms around Brandy and squeezed her to her chest instead of finishing her threat. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Brandy shook her head against her mother’s shoulder. “No.” She raised her head and regarded Reardon. “Call me nuts, but I think this big, beautiful boy saved me.”

Her mother glanced over her shoulder to regard Reardon. Again, he did his best to look passive though Brandy had seen him at his most feral just moments ago. She had to understand he’d only behaved that way because he’d seen she was in trouble.

“Send old Swift packing, did you, wolfie?” Brandy’s mother held out her hand.

Supposing that was an invitation, Reardon got to his feet—his three good ones anyway—and slowly approached. He touched his nose to her offered fingers and finding them to smell like meat, he set about licking each one and most of her palm.

Her laugh filled the room and leached all the tension out of it. “Somebody approves of the steak I marinated this morning for dinner tonight.”

“I suppose we owe him a piece then.” Brandy smiled and it lit up the air around them.

“Any wolf that protects my baby girl can sit at the goddamn dinner table with us.” Brandy’s mother scooched around so she faced Reardon. “I’m Meredith. What are we calling you?”

“I was waiting for Dylan to name him after school. You know how he likes to do that.”

Meredith shook her head. “He came to your defense. He wants you to name him. The kid will get over it.”

Brandy angled her head at Reardon, and for some foolish reason, he wanted her to name him. Even though he already had a name. Even though he wasn’t just a wolf. Even though he’d eventually have to reveal he was also a man.

He wanted her to claim him. Naming him would do that.

“Go get the book.” Meredith gave Brandy a nudge.

Brandy got to her feet and Meredith followed. Reardon wasn’t sure what to do. His instincts told him to follow the women, but his brain said the less he moved the better. His injured leg agreed with that as well. The limb burned now, and he was almost certain that not being under Flidae’s protection anymore had affected his ability to rapidly heal. One of the few perks to being a werewolf was now lessened.

He let out a wolf sigh, but after being close to Brandy, he was no longer that eager to get home. Maybe he could enjoy his time here first. Maybe he could do something Flidae would consider worthy. Maybe he could get closer to Brandy.

When the two women came back to where he was still sitting, Brandy had a book under her left arm.

Meredith pointed to the overturned cage. “Strong sucker, isn’t he?”

Brandy set the book on a nearby shelf, and she and Meredith righted the cage. “You should have seen him get up on his hind legs and hold that position—even with a busted leg. Hank was about two seconds away from shitting himself.”

Laughter filled the room, and Reardon was relieved Brandy appeared to be all right. Pink tinged her cheeks again, and her smile reached all the way to her gorgeous blue eyes that reminded him of summer skies in Ireland.

“I think it’s time we got those security cameras we’ve been talking about, don’t you?” Meredith pulled the blankets out of the cage, balled them up, and set them by the door.

Reardon assumed that meant he wouldn’t be inhabiting that cage during the rest of his stay here. Though he didn’t like that Hank lad threatening Brandy, the bastard had afforded him the opportunity to both prove his loyalty and show he could be trusted to roam free.

“I agree. Cameras make sense.” Brandy picked up the book. “But first, a name.”

“Something very Alpha,” Meredith said. “This guy isn’t a powder puff.”

Brandy opened the book, skimmed a few pages, and squinted at Reardon. Her brow was creased in concentration and she nibbled on her lower lip as she considered the possibilities.

Reardon liked how focused she was, as if she wanted to get just the right name for him. He had the right name, but that didn’t stop him from appreciating her efforts.

After about five minutes, Brandy snapped the book closed.

“You got it?” Meredith asked.

“Yes. This baby came to my rescue as if he were ready to go to battle with Hank. He was fearless, ignored his own pain, and didn’t stop until I was thoroughly defended.” Brandy kneeled in front of Reardon, her mane of hair sliding over her shoulder like a crimson wave of silk. “I dub thee Alator, after the Celtic god of war. You showed great courage against the enemy.”

Alator? If Reardon could have smiled in wolf form, he would have done it. Reardon McAlator gets named Alator. Maybe he wasn’t the only one to feel a connection. Maybe Brandy felt one to him as well. Such a strong one that she’d guessed his real name.

“Alator,” Meredith said slowly. “I like it. Very powerful and fitting for a huge guy like this.”

“What do you say, big boy?” Brandy ran her hand along his muzzle, under his chin, along the edges of his torn left ear. “Do you like your new name?”

Reardon pushed his nose against her palm, especially loving how her index finger had traced the outline of his imperfect ear. Slowly, he rose to all fours, holding his injured one up a little. He bowed his head then gently touched it to her forehead. He wished he could talk to her, but this was the closest he could get to saying thank you.

“Oh, he’s kind of a sweetie, isn’t he?” Meredith laughed. “Let’s hope Hank doesn’t find that out.”

Brandy hooked her hand around the back of Reardon’s neck and nuzzled his left ear with her nose. She sat back and traced the jagged tip of that ear with her index finger again, making Reardon let out a soft wolf sigh. “Something tells me Alator doesn’t reveal his softer side to his enemies.”

Aye. Until today, Reardon doubted he had a softer side, but this lass made him feel things. Things a warrior werewolf had no business feeling. Things he didn’t think he could ignore.

“Shall we see if he can get along with some of our other residents?” Meredith walked to a window and peered out. “Lug is right here as always.”

Brandy turned back to Reardon. “Okay, buddy. Time to make friends. If you don’t make friends, you can’t stay.”

Something in her eyes begged him to make friends. Was it possible she wanted him to stay? What would she do if she knew he was really a man? Would she be happy? Angry? Afraid?

He didn’t want her to be afraid. He wanted her to keep nuzzling and petting and rubbing, but he also wanted those things in human form.

The time will come. He could let her be comfortable with his wolf form for a while. He was in no rush. Originally, he’d wanted to get back to Ireland, but what was waiting there for him? His family had been his closest men. They had been banished as he had and even if they hadn’t, they were none too happy with him for what he’d done.

No. Going home to either no one or a pack of angry wolves didn’t hold half the appeal that staying with Brandy did.

And so, he allowed her to usher him back into the cage. “Sorry, buddy, but I can’t risk that you’ll go all Alator on poor Lug. He’s not a fighter.” She latched the cage door. “Okay, Mom, let Lug in.”

A moment later, a medium-sized brown wolf loped over to him, and Reardon could instantly tell this wolf had never seen a day’s battle.

Lucky bastard.

Reardon stayed perfectly still while Lug set about sniffing every side of the cage, the wolf’s tail wagging like wild. Lug smelled like damp earth and pine and wet fur. The brown wolf gave off an energy that immediately relaxed Reardon, which was a brand new feeling. Living the warrior’s life rarely brought relaxation. He and his army were always poised for battle, ready to fight at a moment’s notice… or the first sign of a hefty payout. For the first time, Reardon wasn’t concerned with wealth or glory.

He only wanted to stay with the fairy lass named Brandy.

Figuring he’d better react in some way to Lug if he wanted out of that cage again, Reardon pressed his nose to the bars and let out a little whine as if calling for Lug’s attention. The brown wolf raised its head and Reardon lifted a paw, letting it rest on one of the bars separating him from Lug. He turned his head and set his green-gold gaze on Brandy, hoping like hell he wasn’t registering as a threat.

“I think he wants out,” Meredith said.

“What do you think, Lug?” Brandy crouched by the cage, her arm going around Lug in a way that nearly pulled a growl from Reardon. “Can we trust him?”

Lug’s front paws slid until the wolf was on his belly beside the cage. Reardon accepted it as the submissive gesture it was, but didn’t take his eyes off Brandy.

“No one is snarling or pissing to mark their territory,” Meredith said. “I think it’s safe, but I’m not the fancy wildlife biologist, so what do I know?”

“Mom, you know as much as I do about wolves. You’ve lived here at the sanctuary long enough to have earned an honorary degree.”

Meredith gave Brandy’s shoulder a little squeeze. “Thanks, honey. Nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you, Dylan, and all these beautiful wolves.”

Brandy rested her hand atop Meredith’s then unlatched the cage’s door. “Play nice, Alator. A tranq gun is within range if necessary.”

Slowly, Reardon stepped out of the cage. He paused to let Lug approach, but the brown wolf remained in the submissive position as if waiting for a command from Reardon.

Hmm.

Reardon let out a little chuffing bark in invitation and Lug rose to his feet. The two wolves sniffed each other, tails wagging. When Lug trotted off, Reardon wrestled with following, but the wolf came right back with a bag in its jaws.

“You want to share your snacks with Alator, Lug?” Brandy asked. “What a good boy.” She gave the other wolf a vigorous rubbing, and Reardon had to clench his jaw to keep his razor-sharp teeth from doing something foolish.

Brandy opened the bag and tossed two biscuits at each wolf. Lug devoured his in an instant, while Reardon crunched on each one as politely as an oversized black wolf could.

“Well, I’d say he passed the test,” Meredith said.

“Me too.” Brandy grabbed the blankets Meredith had taken out of the cage earlier and made a nest of them in a corner of the room. She collapsed the sides of the cage and hauled it out of sight much to Reardon’s delight. “He does, however, need to rest that leg before tackling the sanctuary’s woods.”

Rest. The word was foreign to him. He hadn’t rested in ages. No one had ever insisted that he do so either.

“C’mon.” Brandy snapped her fingers then pointed to the nest of blankets. “You want that leg to get better so you can run around, don’t you?”

He wanted it to get better so he could follow her wherever she went.