Rafe couldn’t remember a time his wolf had ever been so content. Docile even. He was happy. Here, on his own soil, on pack soil, with her, he finally felt like he’d come home.

God, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her wolf looked a lot like her. Small and lean with red and white coloring, she was Zoey in wolf form. Perfection. Sassy and fun, playful and energetic but she had a calming effect on him too. She was perfect and his wolf was absolutely crazy about her.

He couldn’t stop nuzzling her. Licking her. Loving her. He’d taken her multiple times already. So many times that he worried he should have warned her about what could happen on a full moon, especially a first full moon when a wolf’s hormones were the highest.

He hadn’t thought about it before. He’d been too worried about the bad things that could happen to think about the good. He’d been worried that he would hurt her. Worried his wolf would maul her. He’d worried about how the change would effect her and if she would be hurting after the change. He’d thought about ways he could take care of her after, tomorrow, when they changed back into their human forms and she would need rest.

But he hadn’t so much as given a thought to the fact that his new mate would be highly fertile tonight and that his wolf would see it as his duty, no, his mission, to take her over and over again until she was pregnant with his pups.

Rafe’s wolf growled at the thought and cuddled in closer to her. They’d just finished another round of lovemaking and were lazing about in the field. Enjoying the simple feel of one another. Their wolves tired from all the playing and sex. But just the thought of Zoey pregnant with his pups made his wolf stir with need again.

Lord, he really should have warned her. Even now, there could be new life growing in her belly. Pregnancy was always dangerous for a shifter. It would be especially difficult for a new wolf to control the shifts and keep the pups safe. He would need help protecting her if that was the case. He’d need a medic or a midwife and he would need the pack.

Rafe’s wolf twitched at the thought. Michael had told him that they weren’t part of the Moirae pack. He’d said Rafe’s wolf had broken ties to the land because he’d been gone too long. He’d thought that was true. The proof was in Zoey’s wolf. Michael hadn’t sensed her and she hadn’t sensed him, not on an Alpha level. But from the moment he’d shifted, he’d felt the pull of the pack.

He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t figure it out. Not in his wolf form. It was something he’d have to talk to Michael about after the full moon waned. Because Moirae pack or not, he was still tied to this land and he thought it was because he was still tied to Michael. They were brothers.

They might have their differences. They might both be born Alphas. They might want to fight for dominance. But the truth of the matter was, when it mattered, when it counted, his wolf would always see this place as home because Noir was where Michael was and he was the only family Rafe had left.

Zoey nuzzled against him and he amended the thought. Not anymore. He had her now. He had her sweet mother who had welcomed him with open arms. He had a brother and a mate and a pack. He was sure of it.

A prickle of unease raised the hair on the back of his neck and his wolf whined. Rafe blinked and whipped his head around, looking for a threat. When he saw none, he shook the feeling off. He was just being nervous. He was on edge because he was in wolf form on pack land for the first time since he lost his family. He was uneasy because he didn’t just have himself to worry about anymore. He had Zoey and maybe, possibly, the pups she was already growing inside her.

His family.

But Rafe couldn’t shake the feeling of unease when it hit him again and his wolf leapt up, pacing. Zoey whined and shook herself. Her head tilted and a low growl came from deep in her throat. Rafe watched her look around as well, stalking upright into a defensive position.

And it clicked, just like that, just that fast.

He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t being overprotective. Zoey felt it too. She knew something was off but she couldn’t place what it was either. There was no immediate threat to them. They were alone in this part of the woods, out by the lake and near their cabin, which meant…

There was only one other thing that connected their wolves. That would make both of them nervous and worried. One thing, one person, that both of them loved and would want to protect as much in their wolf forms and they would in their human forms.

Michael.

Panic welled inside of him. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with Michael. His wolf howled in pain and Zoey’s wolf winced. He felt like he was being torn in half. The need to stay here and be with her and make sure she was okay and the urge to race to his brother, to his only living blood relative.

Somewhere, in the distance, another wolf answered his howl of pain and recognition hit Rafe in the gut like a bullet, ripping away his last shreds of sanity.

That was Michael. It was Michael howling and he was in pain. He was hurt and with that sound a hundred other awful memories surged. The sound of his other brother in pain. Gabe dying. His parents dead. Now Michael.

No. No. No. His wolf took off. He didn’t stop or pause or look back. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his blood pounding in his ears and the echo of that howl. No. Not Michael. He couldn’t lose Michael too. He’d only just gotten him back. No. No. No.

He didn’t think. Couldn’t think. All he could do was run. As fast as he could, he ran towards the pack land at the lodge. It was the direction he’d heard Michael’s howl come from and he assumed it was the place where the pack still grouped together on full moons to shift together.

It was a couple of miles away but he ran. He ran as fast as he could. Leaping over logs. Dodging trees. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that Zoey was behind him, that she was racing after him as steadily as he was racing towards Michael. But he couldn’t stop and he couldn’t slow down.

Not when Michael was in pain.

He didn’t know how long it took but as soon as he got close to the lodge, he scented it. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t panicking for no reason. He could smell blood in the air. Pack blood. Moirae blood. Michael’s blood.

And his wolf lost his mind just as surely as the man inside of him did when he saw what was happening.

The attack that he’d warned his brother about. It was happening. Here and now. The pack was under attack and Rafe hadn’t been here. He hadn’t been here to help Michael. To protect Michael. His only brother. His pack. He hadn’t been here to protect them just like he hadn’t been there to protect Gabe and their parents.

All over the place, there were wolves fighting. Claws and teeth, growling and hissing. He didn’t recognize any of the wolves. He had no idea who was who but there were some he could sense. They were pack. They were Moirae and he could sense them because he had Moirae blood and he was tied to the pack. Something inside of him snapped into place and his vision blurred before it focused back in and he saw Michael.

Michael. His brother. His Pack Alpha.

Rafe jumped into the fight, viciously swiping at the wolves he didn’t recognize as pack. He slashed a grey wolf across the belly and moved on to the next. A silverback leaped on him and he sank his teeth into its throat and jerked until the neck snapped. He tossed aside the limp body and shouldered his way through a small band of red wolves that were trying to corner him. He found Michael being double-teamed by a large black wolf with a white streak and a gray wolf with blood pouring from a wound in his side that Rafe’s brother must have delivered.

He snarled and leapt onto the injured wolf’s back. He sank his claws deep until the wolf buckled and then used his fangs to rip him apart. The black and white wolf snarled but instead of leaping to the defense of his fallen friend he turned and ran.

Michael was on the ground and Rafe nuzzled him, checking for signs of how hurt he was. It was merely a flesh wound. Michael was okay. He was going to live. He was going to survive. Rafe wasn’t going to lose him. Not here and now. Not tonight. Rafe whined and Michael nuzzled him in return, reassuring him that he was okay.

A wolf howled a sound that could only be retreat and the foreign wolves that were still standing began to scatter. Rafe caught sight of the black and white wolf snarling from the woods as his friends raced past him and his own wolf snarled in return. He didn’t like that at all. He didn’t like that this wolf seemed to be the leader of them and that he’d gone straight for Michael.

His wolf took off after him.

Somewhere behind him, dimly, he heard Michael growl. He knew his brother wanted him to stop. He knew that he should go back and protect his injured little brother. His pack. He should stay but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t go back.

He was too close to the edge. He’d lost control and he couldn’t get his wolf back in line. He’d known that shifting tonight would have consequences. He’d worried about what would happen but he hadn’t worried about this. About losing Michael. And it had pushed him over the edge, not to it but over it.

His human side had burrowed too deep and he wasn’t ready to surface yet. His wolf was too powerful. He was crazed with blood lust and terror. The last time this had happened it had taken days for him to regain his skin and years until he felt like he was truly back in control. This time, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to come back.

And this time he really would lose everything.