“I’m so full.” Brandy felt positively round after the breakfast she and Dylan had wolfed down.

“Me too.” Dylan patted his belly. “They make the best chocolate pancakes.”

Brandy slung her arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “If you buzz around like a rabid bee later due to your horrific sugar intake during that breakfast, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“I’ll run it off with Alator. He’s always in the mood for a chase game.”

That was true. That wolf did anything Dylan suggested. The boy had a few school friends, but otherwise spent his free time with Brandy, Meredith, Parker, or alone.

Until Alator showed up.

Dylan had always liked hanging out with the sanctuary’s wolves, but this bond with Alator was completely different. It was almost as if boy and wolf could anticipate each other’s needs and fill them without much effort. Brandy had once read an article about how soul mates didn’t have to mean two people in love. It could also mean finding something in someone else that completed you in some way. Dylan and Alator appeared to do that for each other.

“Can we go to the pet store?” Dylan asked as he avoided stepping on any of the sidewalk cracks beside her now.

“The pet store? What for?” Brandy couldn’t think of any supplies the sanctuary needed at the moment.

Dylan shrugged his left shoulder. “I have some allowance money saved and I want to buy a surprise for Alator.”

Brandy smiled. “Well, that’s a nice thought, kiddo. Okay. Let’s go.”

Dylan grabbed her hand and they walked across the street from the breakfast place toward Pete’s Pet Paradise. The day was warming up to a toasty eighty degrees and Brandy drew in a deep breath of flowered air. Big pots of bright red geraniums hung from the rustic lampposts lining Main Street in the center of Canville. Red, white, and blue decorations adorned many of the shops along this main artery of the small town in preparation for the Fourth of July parade in two weeks. Brandy, Dylan, and Meredith loved this event and set up lawn chairs on the route every year. They usually hooked up with Parker and ate a picnic lunch complete with Brandy’s favorite part—blueberry pie. 

“I can’t wait for the parade,” Dylan said as if reading Brandy’s thoughts.

“Nothing better than fireworks on a hot summer night.”

Dylan held up his fists then splayed his fingers out quickly as he arced his hands over his head. “Boom! Sizzle! Crash! The finale is the best part.”

“Agreed.” Although Brandy’s mind did wander to having someone to hold her and kiss her during the fireworks… maybe setting off fireworks inside her. That’d be nice for a change.

Sighing softly so Dylan wouldn’t ask her what was bothering her, she followed him to the pet store and he pulled open the door. They entered, enjoying the cool breeze from the store’s air conditioning.

“Ah, the Wendons,” Pete said as he looked up from the binder he had open at the register. “How are Canville’s wolf people?”

“Stuffed,” Brandy said.

“Eat breakfast at Rosie’s?” Pete nodded toward the diner across the street.

“Eat isn’t the right word,” Brandy said. “More like feast.”

“Like wild animals,” Dylan added with a giggle.

“Hanging around with those wolves too much.” Pete, a big bear of a man, came around the counter and pretended to spar with Dylan for a few minutes before giving Brandy a hug.

She always felt tiny next to Pete, which was an unexpected feeling. At five feet eight inches, Brandy didn’t feel tiny often.

“How are you, Pete?” She stepped back to look up at his round, bearded face.

“Great. Business is always good in the summer with locals and more tourists hanging around.” Pete gestured to the customers milling about the store. “Are you doing any tourist events at Silver Moon?”

“The July Full Moon Wolf Walk at the end of the month and then the Growls and Grub Picnic at the sanctuary in August.” Both events had brought in tons of cash for the sanctuary in the past and had become annual summer events in Canville for locals and tourists alike. They were simple enough to orchestrate and Brandy always managed to nab a few dedicated donors who would support Silver Moon throughout the year. She received federal funding through her continued research efforts and liaison with the university, but these events allowed her to do the little extras that made the sanctuary the success it was.

“You put me and Pearl down for both and you know Pearl will be happy to help out foodwise.”

Brandy put her hand on Pete’s forearm. “You two have VIP reservations. Always.”

“Excellent.” Pete turned to look for Dylan who had wandered deeper into the store. “What are you two shopping for today?”

“We have a new wolf at the sanctuary and Dylan wants to get him a surprise.” Brandy lowered her voice. “With his own allowance money.”

“Aww. He’s a great kid, Brandy. You’ve done a right good job with him. Done your sister proud.” He squeezed her shoulder.

“Thanks, Pete.” Her throat tightened. She often imagined Diane looking down at her and wondered if she approved of Brandy’s parenting. It was nice to hear someone say she was doing it right.

“Excuse me, sir?” a small voice asked.

“Duty calls.”

Pete tended to the customer as Brandy found Dylan by the more rugged dog toys. A tall, broad-shouldered man was in the aisle as well. His hands were stuffed into the front pockets of his blue jeans, and a hunter green T-shirt stretched across a fit chest.

Very fit.

Brandy shook her head and focused on her son. “Find anything worthy of the regal Alator?” She could have sworn the man took a step closer.

Dylan had a thick, orange tire-like toy in one hand and a long, skinny tennis ball launcher in the other. “It’s between these two.” He held the items up to her. “The tire looks like it can stand up to his teeth and would be fun to roll around the field, but the tennis ball launcher would mean lots of running. Alator loves running.”

“Both good choices.” She could easily picture the wolf playing with either one if only to please the kid.

Dylan chewed on his lower lip and Brandy waited. She never rushed him when he was problem solving. He needed chances to work through decisions himself.

“I think I’ll go with the tire because it’s different. I can always throw a tennis ball like I already do. The tire might make him curious.”

“Stimulate his brain. Nice reasoning. Very scientific.”

Dylan beamed from ear to ear. He loved hearing that he thought like a scientist. “Okay. Let’s pay and get home to the big, bad wolf.”

Brandy accompanied him to the register where she added a few rope toys to their purchases, paid, and left after bidding Pete good-bye. As they walked past the diner and toward their SUV parked at the end of Main Street, Brandy caught sight of the tall man again. He must have exited Pete’s at the same time they had, but she hadn’t seen him in line behind them.

He leaned against one of the rustic lampposts, his muscled arms folded across his chest. A short, black beard lined his jaw and thick black hair sat a little wildly atop his head. His face was turned down toward the street so she couldn’t see his eyes, but the head-to-toe picture was pretty damn beautiful.

“Mom?” Dylan’s voice pulled her off the X-rated trail she’d been dancing down in her mind.

“What?” She looked down at him, forcing herself to continue walking toward the SUV.

“Should we get Gram something from the farmer’s market?” He pointed to the town square where locals set up booths to sell their wares on Saturdays. She’d gone a few times herself to sell Silver Moon Wolf Sanctuary items—T-shirts, sweatshirts, jewelry. Trinkets, really, but they got the sanctuary’s name out there and usually brought in more donations.

“Umm, looks as if she’s already getting herself something.” Brandy pointed to Meredith’s car parked several spaces up from their SUV.

Dylan handed the pet store bag to Brandy. “Can I go find her?”

“Sure. Just pay attention.”

He took off like an arrow. The beauty of living in Canville, Vermont was the safety the small town offered. Brandy rarely worried about danger when it came to letting Dylan wander away from her, but she did always remind him to be aware of his surroundings. She hoped he’d want to stay in Canville when he grew up, but knew he might choose to go away to college or something. She wanted to teach him that some places were safe, but it was always smart to pay attention and keep an eye out for trouble.

Watching him now, she laughed when he snuck up on Meredith and she whirled around in surprise. Her heart swelled as grandmother and grandson laughed together. When Dylan shook his head and patted his stomach, Brandy knew Meredith was offering to buy him food from the organic booth nearby.

Ugh. The notion of putting any more food in her own belly made her feel green. The strawberry and whipped cream she’d had on her enormous Belgian waffle at breakfast had tasted heavenly on the way down, but she’d have to run with the wolves through the woods for two days continuously to work it off.

Better than running on a treadmill. She did love a more natural workout regimen, though the very idea of running anywhere with her stomach still so full made her cringe.

Brandy took a step forward to join Dylan and Meredith, but something—some strange prickling of the skin on the back of her neck—stopped her. Instead, she slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder.

The tall man was on the sidewalk a mere few feet away.

Is he following us?

She looked back at Dylan and Meredith, wondering if she should collect them and get the hell out of there. When the man smiled, however, her feet became firmly rooted to the spot where she stood. She couldn’t have moved if someone set her shirt on fire.

Speaking of fire…

Good Lord, this man was gorgeous. She’d considered him attractive when she’d gotten a quick glimpse of him at Pete’s, but up close? Attractive didn’t do him justice.

He was… he was god-like.

That dark beard framed full lips that appeared capable of doing amazing things. His somewhat messy black hair looked extremely touchable and that green T-shirt hinted at a delicious view hiding beneath the cotton.

And his eyes. Oh, his eyes were this foresty green and amber mix that hypnotized Brandy. She’d never seen such an amazing shade of eye color on any human.

“Why are you following me?” Her cheeks immediately scorched over the way she’d blurted out the question. On the other hand, she was impressed with herself for getting to the point instead of asking him to rip off her clothes and ravage her right there on the town green.

He held up the orange tire toy. “You dropped this back there, lass.”

Holy hot Irish accent, Batman! His low voice made her insides shiver. Brandy could barely tear her eyes from the way his large hands gripped the toy. Large, capable, man hands that would no doubt be quite adept at finding all the right spots on her body. She nearly let loose the moan threatening to rumble out of her throat.

She peeked into the pet store bag Dylan had passed to her and sure enough, the tire toy was absent.

“It must have fallen out.” She held out her hand. “Thank you.”

This mysterious stranger nodded once and hung the toy around her wrist. “Aye. Looks wonderful with your outfit.” Again, his lips were turned up in a grin and that Belgian waffle had to make room for the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

She twisted her arm one way then the other as if showcasing the tire-toy-turned-bracelet, amazed at her ability to engage in a playful exchange when this guy was much too beautiful to actually talk to.

“Some lucky pup at home going to get that present?” He took a few steps closer, and Brandy felt something a little magnetic make her sway toward him. Shit, he was tall. Like six-foot-four-inches tall.

Get a hold of yourself, moron. She closed her eyes and mentally slapped her cheeks to bring herself back to planet Earth. Clearly she’d slipped into another dimension entirely.

Only when she opened her eyes, he was still standing there. He. Was. Real.

“Lass?”

“Umm, yeah.” She pulled the tire toy off her wrist and stuffed it into the pet store bag. “I mean, no. Not a dog. A wolf.”

The stranger’s eyebrows rose over those incredible eyes. “You make friends with wolves?”

“More than friends,” she said. “Wolves are part of my family.” She tapped the Silver Moon logo on her tank top. “I run a wolf sanctuary.”

“I see.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “And wolves like toys?” He smirked.

“Are you making fun of me, Mister…?”

“Reardon.” He dragged one of those fabulous hands back out of his pocket and extended it toward her. “And no. I’d never make fun of a beautiful lass I just met.”

What would he do to a beautiful lass then?

****

Reardon absolutely loved catching Brandy off guard like this. And she was off guard. She was downright wobbly on her long, lovely legs. He’d gotten so accustomed to looking up at her from all fours in his wolf form. Being able to tower over her right now was a moment to treasure. He’d known she wasn’t a wee lass, but from his height everyone was wee. If that color on her cheeks was any indication, she rather liked looking up at him too.

Of course she didn’t know it was him, but he could be patient. He could wait until the time was right or until perhaps she made the connection on her own. Was he so different in human form compared to his wolf form? He’d never thought so, but he was also inside his skin whether it be pink flesh or black fur. He didn’t have an accurate picture of how his two forms came across to others.

If he had to guess, though, Brandy liked his human form. He smelled her flowery scent mixed with arousal and interest. Her heart beat rapidly and if they were both wolves right now, Reardon was sure they’d be sniffing and sizing each other up.

Maybe Brandy was sizing him up anyway. Her eyes had definitely canvassed over him several times and he figured he’d made some appropriate clothing choices. The lass in the store he’d found had been most helpful which was good because he hadn’t been sure where to begin. The fellow at the barbershop had been more than cordial as well, giving Reardon’s beard and hair some much needed attention. When he’d looked at himself in the reflective glass in front of the chair, he could hardly believe what he saw. His beard had never been that neat, his hair never that short, but the barber assured him he resembled every other “twenty-first century American male.”

At least he knew when and where Flidae had sent him. Twenty-first century America. He’d had some trouble wrapping his head around the fact that it was the twenty-first century and he didn’t know where America was. The more time he spent in town, however, convinced him he was not against being in this time or this place.

In fact, he rather liked it. And the lass standing before him.

“Are you new in town?” Brandy asked.

“You could say that.”

“What brings you to Vermont?” She gathered that red mane of hair onto her left shoulder, causing the silky strands to shush and slither over the wolf logo on her shirt—a shirt that showcased the smooth skin of her shoulders and the muscles in her upper arms. He’d seen her lifting items at the sanctuary and had made note of those muscles before, but something about seeing them now, on display, made his very human parts tighten in his pants. Pants he wasn’t used to wearing. Pants made of a rough material the shopkeeper had called denim. He’d never worn anything like it and found the pants rather constricting.

Especially because Brandy was doing things to his body—things that required roomier garments to be sure.

“I suppose Fate has brought me to Vermont.” Fate. Flidae. What’s the difference? His actions had angered the goddess and she’d banished him. That could have easily been his destiny all along. Meeting Brandy felt like fulfilling destiny.

She studied him for a quiet moment, and he was certain she was about to question his response, but Dylan came running over.

“Mom?” He came to an abrupt stop beside her when he saw she was not alone.

Reardon longed to greet the boy—someone whose company he’d come to enjoy and seek out while at the sanctuary. It was hard to remember Dylan had no idea Reardon was the giant black wolf he’d been spending so much time with. Keeping his distance was difficult. In wolf form, he often nuzzled the boy. Touch was a big part of wolf communication. He had a feeling that touch in his human form would not be looked upon so favorably. One glance at Brandy and the protective arm she’d put along the boy’s shoulders said it all.

“You ready to go, kiddo?” She turned all her attention to Dylan, and Reardon hesitated between excusing himself or waiting for an introduction.

He decided he simply couldn’t leave boy or mother yet.

“Yeah. Gram has a few more ‘parcels to acquire.’” Dylan giggled, the sound so familiar to Reardon.

“Parcels to acquire?” Brandy shook her head. “Gram and her vocabulary.”

“I know. I told her it’s the summertime and we can speak like average people, but she said, ‘Why be average?’” Dylan shot Reardon a quick glance as if he was trying to see him without Reardon noticing. Werewolves, however, noticed everything.

“You know how Gram is.” Brandy smiled at Reardon and everything around him faded away. Nothing existed but her and Dylan and him. Gods, he wanted to tell her who he was.

But how do I do that without scaring her? And Dylan. He didn’t want to harm either one of them in any way.

Brandy wiggled the bag she carried. “This nice man found the toy we bought Alator. It must have fallen out of the bag.”

Dylan took the bag, peered inside, then looked at Reardon. “Thanks, mister. I bought that with my own money.”

“Did you now? Must be a special wolf to get a special gift like that.” A warmth started at the center of Reardon’s chest and spread outward, hitting every part of him. This boy had thought to buy him a gift with his own riches. Had anyone ever bought him a gift from the heart like that? Not that he could remember.

“Alator’s awesome.” Dylan angled his head and narrowed his eyes. “Your eyes are like his.”

That’s because they are his. “So I’ve got wolf eyes, do I?”

A little sound escaped from Brandy—a noise that resembled a moan. A noise that further tightened parts of Reardon’s body. Did she agree he had wolf eyes? Did she like that he had wolf eyes? If the increase in her breathing rate was any indication… well, aye, she did like it.

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “They’re the same color, don’t you think so, Mom?”

“Umm… yeah, I guess.” Brandy fiddled with the other bags she held. “We should probably get going.” She glanced up at Reardon. “The wolves are waiting.”

“Don’t let me delay you,” he said.

“Nice meeting you, Reardon.” She gave him a little smile, and his name coming from her lips made a flash of pure lust race through him.

“Likewise, lass.” He angled his head to Dylan. “Lad, have fun with your wolves. Hope that toy pleases.”

“Oh, it will. I know what Alator likes. He’s my best friend.”

Reardon wanted nothing more than to scoop up the boy and say the feeling was mutual, but he contained himself, gave a nod to Brandy, and somehow managed to walk away from them.

He didn’t get too far.

A terrible, intermittent rumble roared from somewhere, followed by a loud screeching. Reardon had never heard either noise before so he angled his head as he would have in wolf form to ascertain the source of the clamor. He snapped his attention to the street and though nothing was making that horrible sound there, his excellent hearing knew it was close by. After a few moments of listening, his sharp eyes settled on a vehicle spinning out of control and moving at an incredible speed. With its oversized wheels, the machine was bigger than Brandy’s SUV and Meredith’s smaller car.

Reardon shifted his gaze to where Brandy and Dylan were stepping off the curb on their way to the SUV.

Oh, Gods!

Didn’t they hear the screeching? Didn’t they see the vehicle hurtling down the road? Didn’t they…

No, they didn’t because the noise wasn’t as loud to them as it was to Reardon’s wolf-enhanced ears. No, they didn’t because the vehicle was at the beginning of the street. Brandy and Dylan were toward the end and the street had a hill in the middle big enough to conceal what was coming.

If he didn’t get to them right now, it’d be too late.

Reardon took off at a run, his long legs able to cover the area quickly. In a matter of seconds, he was grabbing both Brandy and Dylan around their waists, hoisting them off their feet, and toting them to an area clear of the street and the whirlwind movements of the approaching vehicle. He tumbled to the grassy ground with both of them and they all landed in a heap.

Dylan was the first to get back on his feet, but Brandy was right behind him, her mouth open and ready to deliver what Reardon was certain would be a scolding. When she caught sight of the speeding vehicle, however, her eyes widened as her mouth hung open.

The three of them stared—along with other people who now saw the disaster about to unfold—as the wayward vehicle slammed into Brandy’s SUV. Glass exploded. Metal crumpled. More screeches filled the air. Everything happened in slow motion. Reardon was sure he could actually see glass shards suspended in the air and fiery sparks hovering.

Brandy stood there, a shocked expression on her face, as her SUV went from perfectly intact to tragically disfigured.

“Our car!” Dylan shouted, his hands going to his head.

Brandy looked down at Reardon still on the ground but sitting now, his elbows resting on his knees. “Our lives,” she said so quietly Reardon almost didn’t hear her. “You…you saved our lives.”

The way her blue eyes zeroed in on him made his heart kick wildly against his ribs. “I’m sorry I threw you to the ground though, lass.” He indicated the streak of green on her shorts from hitting the grass.

She rubbed at it, but didn’t take her gaze off him. “These aren’t my favorite shorts anyway.” A small, shaky smile formed on her lips, and again Reardon wanted desperately to reveal himself to her. To hold her. To comfort her.

“We could have been roadkill.” Dylan put his arms around Brandy’s waist and pressed his head against her chest.

Brandy’s arms came around the boy. “But we’re not. Thanks to Reardon. How did you get to us so fast? How did you know that truck was coming? I didn’t even hear or see it until it was so close.”

Reardon got to his feet and brushed off his pants. The knuckles of his left hand had gotten scraped and fresh blood smeared over them. He shook his hand out, letting some blood drip to the grass.

Brandy released Dylan and dug through her purse, extracting several tissues and handing them to him.

“Thanks.” He took them and pressed them to his knuckles, the warmth of his own blood seeping through the tissue. Typical of him to be shedding blood. He did it so well.

Dylan pointed behind them. “Want me to go to the pharmacy and get some bandages?”

“Yes.” Brandy stuck her hand in her purse again and pulled out some money which she handed to Dylan. The boy took off, leaving Reardon and Brandy alone on the grass.

Well, as alone as they could be with a good portion of the town watching them.

Brandy realized they were being watched at the same time. She turned to face them and waved. “We’re okay, folks. Did someone check the driver of the truck?”

Reardon hadn’t worried about the other driver. His mind had been focused only on Brandy and Dylan. On getting to them. On making sure nothing happened to them.

“I called 911, but there’s nobody driving it,” one of the townspeople called back.

“Nobody driving it?” Brandy walked toward the truck impaled in the side of her SUV.

Reardon instinctively followed, not wanting her to get anywhere near the wreck. Sure enough, no one was behind the wheel. A quick look around didn’t reveal that a driver had been thrown from the truck either.

Brandy frowned but turned her attention back to Reardon. “How could there be no driver?”

He was about to reply, but another loud noise cut through the air. A moment later, several vehicles screamed in with flashing lights. Suddenly people in various uniforms exited the vehicles and climbed all over the scene of the accident.

Brandy tugged him by the forearm over to one of the vehicles and got the attention of a uniformed person. “His knuckles need some attention.”

“I’m fin—”

“No, you’re getting checked.” She gave him a stern look—one he’d seen her give Dylan when she was mothering the boy. He almost laughed aloud that she would dare mother him. If she only knew he was a fierce warrior who had lost copious amounts of blood on the battlefield repeatedly and had still survived. If only she knew he was a werewolf who would heal quickly.

Dylan came running over with his purchased bandages, but got sidetracked by one of the uniformed people who he obviously knew.

An efficient woman examined his knuckles, applied something cold and slick to them, then covered them with a soft, white wrapping. “These cuts aren’t too deep. Should heal up quickly.”

Reardon nodded then looked for Brandy in the nearby crowd. He found her talking to a man in a dark uniform. He wore a belt around his waist from which various instruments hung. They looked like modern battle instruments to Reardon so perhaps this man was a warrior of some kind.

When he came to stand near Brandy, she turned to him and gestured to the man. “This is Sheriff Olsen. Sheriff, Reardon…” She raised eyebrows, wanting a last name he figured, but he wasn’t going to give her one. Not yet.

“Sheriff.” Reardon shook the man’s extended hand.

“Nice save I hear.” The sheriff gave him a nod, but Reardon saw the untrusting look in the officer’s eyes.

“Fantastic save,” Brandy said. “If Reardon hadn’t scooped us up, we would have been the cream filling to that vehicle sandwich over there.” She arrowed her thumb over her shoulder, and Reardon picked up on the shiver that rippled through her body. “There’s no driver though.”

The sheriff shook his head. “No, but one of my guys found this. Stuck through the accelerator, pinning it to the floor of the truck.” He held up a wicked-looking blade inside a plastic bag. The handle was silver with intricate knotwork coursing over it.

Celtic knotwork.

Reardon’s stomach pitched. It was a blade fit for gods… or goddesses.