Reeve woke up to Patrick lightly tracing a finger along her spine. She wiggled closer, forcing him to trail his finger down her side instead. When he hit the soft spot between her ribs and hip, she laughed. Realizing he had discovered a ticklish area, he tickled her even more, until she was breathless from laughing so hard. She’d forgotten what it was like to let her guard down and couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. Then she remembered—it was before she met Damian Stone. Stone. His last name was appropriate, because she felt his weight like a boulder strapped to her back; just being in the same room as the alpha made it hard to breathe.

Thinking about Damian sobered her up, and she rolled away from Patrick, pulling the comforter over her naked body.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, placing soft kisses on the top of her shoulder, which remained exposed. She knew she had to tell him about the situation she left behind in Denver and may have followed her to Havenwood Falls, but she struggled to form the words. “You can tell me anything. Whatever you’re scared of, you have me now to protect you.”

“What makes you think I’m scared?” she asked.

“We’re bonded. I can feel what you’re feeling.”

“Right, I forgot about that part.” Reeve closed her eyes and exhaled deeply before rolling over to face Patrick. His brown eyes were so different from Damian’s. Where Damian’s were hard and glinted like onyx, Patrick’s were warm, like a dark honey. Yes, her mate swore to protect her, but Damian was a ruthless force. She placed a hand on Patrick’s chest and ran her fingers through the coarse hair blanketing his pecs. His heart beat strong and steady under her palm.

“Talk to me, babe,” he urged, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I bet you’ll feel better after.”

Reeve took a shaky breath and started from when she first met Damian Stone.

* * *

Reeve was working for Elite Catering, which had been selected by the Denver mountain lion shifters for their Founders Day Celebration, a huge event that everyone in the shifter community anticipated each year. Since this past year was their twentieth annual party, the alpha wanted it to be special, so Reeve was brought in as the event planner. The party’s venue was a warehouse that normally sat empty, providing a blank canvas every year for decorations and logistics.

When Reeve arrived at the warehouse for the first meeting, she met Damian Stone along with his beta, Gage Barrows, and Elite’s executive chef. The meeting was typical—they went over the client’s vision, timeline, and what to include on the menu. Reeve walked around the space, mapping out her ideas for decorations, table layout, and where to place the dance floor. The only thing atypical was Damian’s behavior toward her. He came on strong and was relentless, despite her turning him down, citing Elite’s non-fraternization policy prohibiting dating and personal relationships with current clients. Eventually, his beta got him to back off. Unfortunately, there were other meetings where Reeve didn’t have anyone to run interference. She left those meetings disheveled from being pawed at. She asked her boss to remove her from the project, but there wasn’t anyone else to take over. Reeve’s boss asked her to stay on the job, and refuse Damian’s advances as politely as possible. Then things really started to escalate.

Reeve had been casually dating a soldier with the Denver den. It was nothing serious—more like a friends with benefits situation—but when Damian found out, he ordered his soldier to stay away. Not too long after that, Reeve was at a club with some friends, having fun out on the dance floor. Reeve was dancing with some random guy, a human, and they started dancing pretty close. Her back was to his front, grinding to the beat, when suddenly he was gone. She turned around to see where he went, and Damian stood in his place. The poor human was sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, and by the way the bottom part of his jaw hung at an angle, she knew it was broken.

“You fucking psycho! What’s wrong with you?” Reeve screamed in Damian’s face. At this point, she’d had a couple of drinks and didn’t think about the fact that Damian was a client. He had crossed a line, and she needed to push back.

“Nobody touches what’s mine.”

He said it with such arrogance that Reeve hauled off and slapped him, hoping to knock the smirk off his face. She didn’t expect it to excite him, but he grabbed her by the hips, forcing her body against him.

* * *

The sound of Patrick growling caused Reeve to pause. His arm tightened around her from where it was draped across her side.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Did he…he hasn’t raped you, has he?” He spat this question out like the very words choked him.

“No. No, never.”

“Oh thank the gods!” he said with a deep exhale, and his body softened behind her.

* * *

Nobody was allowed to grab her like he did, like she was a piece of property, so she kneed him in the balls. By this time, they were creating quite the scene, and two of the club’s bouncers arrived. When Damian’s eyes started to glow, Reeve was afraid he would shift right there, but he managed to bring himself under control . . . barely. While the bouncers were busy with him, Reeve and her friends slipped out of the club.

The next day, her boss called and lit into Reeve about assaulting the company’s number one client. Damian had twisted it all around, and made it seem like she was the one out of control—that she was the aggressor. Reeve gave her side of the story, and pleaded to be transferred to a different event, but Damian still insisted that Reeve be the event planner. Rather than be bullied and forced into a bad situation, she quit.

Two days later, her boss called, groveling. Reeve decided to go back to work not only because she loved her job, but because her boss agreed she would never have to be alone with Damian again. Her boss made sure Reeve had someone accompany her to any meeting or gathering. That worked for a few months, but Damian had a way of finding her outside of work. She’d run into him at Trader Joe’s or at the coffee shop on the corner by her apartment. Fortunately, her building had security, and required a key card to get in; otherwise he probably would have shown up inside.

* * *

Reeve shivered at what she was about to tell Patrick. She’d been reliving the series of events over and over in her head since she fled Denver, and no one knew why she had returned to Havenwood Falls. Patrick would be the first to hear about her situation, and it was only fair that she tell her mate. The bond compelled her to reveal everything—to bare her soul. There would be no secrets between them. She rolled over to face him, and he must have sensed her emotional distress because he tucked her close to his chest. She breathed in his scent, and noticing that hers mixed with his helped her to relax. Feeling better, she continued her story.

* * *

The Founders Day event celebrated the founding mountain lion shifters who established the den in Denver. They made it possible for other supes to move into the area, and helped build a strong community. Damian was really into family history and purity of bloodlines. Every time they had a meeting about the event, he made a point to talk about his heritage and how he’s a direct descendent of Ransom Stone, the founding alpha. Reeve made the mistake of mentioning her father, and that he was an alpha. When Damian heard that, he certainly seemed to perk up, but Reeve had no idea just how obsessed he was in his belief that he needed to mate with the daughters of alphas, mating bond or not.

On the day of the Founders Day party, Reeve was busy working, attending to last minute details, and Damian was busy being host, so their paths never crossed, which was a relief to Reeve. After the party, only mountain lion shifters hung around. There was a nervous, pent-up energy in the warehouse that she recognized. The night was still young and the woods behind the warehouse beckoned. One of the Denver members asked if she wanted to shift and run with them.

“God yes,” she exclaimed, relishing the perfect opportunity to unwind from a long, crazy day. On top of that, it had been at least two months since her last shift. Her skin itched with the need to let her cat out and play. So she filed out the back doors with the rest of the group, and they all stripped naked. Reeve’s cat was anxious, and she shifted immediately then paced around the parking lot until everyone else had shifted.

Damian’s cat was easy to spot. He was the biggest, with a square, masculine face. The dark markings around his eyes and nose looked like war paint, and added to his fierce intensity. His amber eyes locked on Reeve’s before he bounded off across a small field that separated the warehouse from the trees. The warehouse was located on the border of the Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge, and provided the perfect cover for shifters. Mountain lion sightings weren’t unusual and never drew much attention. The rest of the shifters followed suit, and soon Reeve was running in the wilderness, the city lights of Denver just a distant, hazy glow on the horizon.

They ran for the thickest section of the forest, to minimize the risk of crossing paths with humans. With the wind ruffling through her fur and a hint of summer in the warm night air, Reeve let the stress of the past few weeks melt away. The more she ran and her paws connected with the soft earth, the more the human part of her let go—it was such a release. She was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t realize she had split off from the group and run into an unfamiliar area. She sniffed the air and surrounding trees, brushes, and rocks for any familiar scents, but didn’t detect anything. She came across a stream and crouched down for a drink. The entire time her ears were at attention, twitching at every noise. In the distance she heard the cry of prey expelling its last breath. Reeve lifted her head from the cold water and looked in the direction of the hunt. Moments later, a faint trace of blood clung to the wind, and her nostrils flared with interest. Scenting her kind, she started heading in that direction.

By the time she arrived, traces of the fresh kill were all that remained. Tufts of gray rabbit fur floated in the air, while some clumps were glued to the earth with blood and guts. Multiple paw prints in the mud showed that more than one mountain lion had passed through. Reeve was also back in familiar territory. The night sky was fading into dawn when she arrived back at the warehouse, and she immediately noticed something was amiss.

Her dress and heels, which she had left in a neat pile by the door, were missing. She quickly shifted, and the moment she felt her bones pop into the right place, she stood up straight from where she was crouched. Figuring someone had mistakenly moved them, she went inside to look. There she did find them—in Damian’s hands. Reeve didn’t sense anyone else in the building. They were alone in the dimly lit space, and she immediately went on the defensive.

“Why do you have my clothes?” she asked, and held her arm out in a silent demand for their return. Her other arm was pressed across her breasts, where Damian’s gaze had been fixed since she walked in.

“Because you’re mine, and I can do what I want.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! How many times do I have to tell you? I am not yours. Now give me my damn clothes.”

Reeve made it a point to stay in one place and not move toward him. He could come to her, and she had the exit at her back in case he tried anything stupid. His dark eyes glinted in the faint light, and his smirk turned into a wide grin full of sharp teeth. His canines lengthened, and he took a step closer. Reeve tensed and resisted taking a step back, not wanting him to see that she was intimidated. Instead she stood up taller and adjusted her long hair so it covered her breasts. Her arms appeared relaxed at her sides, but she was ready to fight if it came to that. Reeve didn’t know Damian very well, but she’d been around him enough to know he was drunk on his power, and he struggled to keep control of his beast. The display of teeth just confirmed it for her.

“You definitely have alpha blood flowing through your veins. So proud and defiant, but you will submit to me,” he said.

“No. I won’t,” she replied, never taking her eyes off him. Damian took another step toward her. He was stalking his prey, and she prepared to spring backwards. Her toes sought out some sort of purchase on the concrete.

He handed Reeve her dress, and she flinched at first, which made him chuckle. Glaring at him, she reached for the thin silk and fell right into his trap. As soon as she had the dress in her hand, he snatched her wrist and yanked her toward him, crushing her against his chest. She started to resist, and at first didn’t register the sting in her left butt cheek. The fucker had a syringe full of sedative, and Reeve’s ability to fight evaporated. She still tried, even though her arms and legs felt like they were made of lead.

When she came to, Reeve was in a small bedroom, lying on a single bed. Sunlight streamed in through the only window. It took her a few minutes to shake the grogginess off. Her eyelids felt weighed down, but Reeve wasn’t about to go back under, so she forced herself to sit up, and the room spun. Finally, the dizzy spell passed, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet making contact with cold tiles provided enough of a jolt to wake her up fully. She took stock of her situation and realized someone had dressed her—at least partially—while she was unconscious. She was wearing a large Harley Davidson T-shirt that fit more like a dress, it was so big. It also carried a scent she was becoming too familiar with—Damian’s. There was a sour smell underneath the male musk that repelled her. Her inner cat had zero interest in his pheromones—they were definitely not a match.

Reeve wanted so badly to rip the shirt off, but she left it on to avoid being naked and more vulnerable. She did a quick inventory of her body to see if anything was wrong. Anything could have happened while she was unconscious, but fortunately, she found she wasn’t injured and didn’t have any tenderness to indicate she had been raped. She slowly rose to her feet, anticipating another round of dizziness that didn’t come. There was a bottle of water on the floor next to the bed, and she drained it in seconds. Whatever Damian had drugged her with had left her with severe cottonmouth.

It didn’t take her long to check the bedroom for weapons or a way out. The door was locked, and the window had bars on it. The closet was empty, and the bed was just a mattress on a frame, so there weren’t any bedposts to snap off and use as a weapon. Reeve peered out the window to get an idea of where she was being held. She was on the second floor and had a view of a nondescript backyard that was surrounded by tall oak trees blocking the view of anything beyond. Sitting on the windowsill in the sunshine, she closed her eyes and listened to her surroundings.

Through the wall to her right, she heard soft whimpers like a woman crying, and to the left, someone was pacing. A male voice could be heard on the first floor. It was muffled and hard to tell whether it belonged to Damian or one of his men, or if it was just a TV show. A second male voice joined in, and the muffled conversation that followed was interrupted by what sounded like plates clanging against each other. None of this information helped Reeve, so she sat back down on the bed to think. If she was only asleep for a few hours, then it was Saturday. If she didn’t show up for work on Monday, someone would come to look for her. She was last seen at the party, but she could have been in another county for all she knew. She didn’t have her bag, phone, or car, since they were probably left at the warehouse.

As she sat there, more noises came from downstairs, as well as the smell of food. Her stomach growled when she caught a whiff of bacon. Minutes later, footsteps approached, and they stopped nearby. She heard a door open and close. Not long after that, the same door opened and closed, a squeak of the hinges its tell. Then the footsteps stopped outside of the room Reeve was being held in, and she waited with uneasy anticipation as a key slid into the lock and the knob turned. Reflexively, she assumed a defensive crouched position on top of the bed. A guy about her sister’s age came into the room carrying a tray of food.

“Scott, right?” she asked, recognizing him as one of the den’s soldiers from the party.

He didn’t acknowledge her at all, or even look at her. He placed the tray on the floor by the bed and backed out of the room. It only took a few seconds.

“Wait—come back!” she yelled. His retreating footsteps paused in what she assumed was a hallway. “I need to use the bathroom.” This wasn’t a lie. She really did have to go, but she also wanted an opportunity to learn more about where she was being held, such as the layout and exit points.

Scott came back. He stood in the doorway and held up a pair of handcuffs. “You’re not leaving the room until you put these on,” he said, still not meeting her eyes. He was at least six feet tall and had a muscular build like Reeve’s brother, Braden. While he wasn’t making eye contact, Scott was tracking her every move. He didn’t have to worry. She wasn’t going to challenge him—at least not yet.

Reeve approached him with her arms held out, and he handcuffed her. Then he pulled out a gun from the back of his black cargo pants, and she gasped.

“Relax, it’s a tranq gun. If you behave, I won’t use it. Now, let’s go.” He nudged her forward with the muzzle of the gun, and they stepped out into a long hallway. There were three other doors on the right side, in addition to her room, and two doors on the left. At the end of the hallway, Reeve noticed a flight of stairs leading down. They walked until they reached the door on the left closest to the stairs.

“Here you go,” Scott pushed open the door to reveal a bathroom.

Reeve went inside, relieved when he didn’t follow. She closed the door and went to lock it, but there wasn’t a lock available. Quickly scanning the room, Reeve was hit with disappointment again when she realized there weren’t any windows. She did her business and checked the medicine cabinet for anything useful, but only found cotton swabs, a box of tampons, and a tube of toothpaste. Closing the cabinet, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, and smudges of dirt made her right cheek look bruised. Using hand soap, she washed her face and scrubbed the makeup off from the night before. The handcuffs made it challenging, but she worked around them. Unable to stall anymore, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Scott was waiting across the hall, leaning against the wall, which was painted a light dove gray and accented with white wainscoting. Wherever they were keeping her, it had been recently decorated.

Scott herded her back to “her” room, removed the handcuffs, and left without a word. Reeve sat down on the bed and eyed the tray of food. A pile of scrambled eggs and bacon were on a paper plate, and there was a paper bowl of mixed berries on the side along with a cup of orange juice and a cup of coffee. Propped up against the glass of juice was an envelope with her name on it. Curiosity got the best of her, so she grabbed it and set the tray aside on the bed. There was a single sheet of paper inside with a handwritten note from Damian.

Reeve’s appetite vanished after reading his note. She’d heard of species purists, but never met one. Supes weren’t any different than humans. There were some who were progressive, others who were conservative, and then there were those who were resistant to change no matter what. Reeve was glad the national leadership for shifters legalized inter-species marriage, recognizing the need to align with human legislation.

Fortunately, Denver was progressive. Well, except for Damian. What struck Reeve as weird was that there weren’t any warnings about Damian, so either he didn’t have a lot of support in Denver, or his supporters knew how to fly under the radar. Reeve knew she was not going to be his mate, and certainly not a breeding whore. He was out of his ever-loving mind if he thought he’d control her. His note did confirm that she was dealing with a different kind of crazy, and from that point forward she needed to do everything within her power to be at one hundred percent.

Despite her loss of appetite, and while the food and coffee were lukewarm, Reeve consumed everything. She didn’t smell anything off, so it hadn’t been tainted, and she needed to eat to keep her strength up. Reading his note again turned the rock in her stomach into a ball of rage. Who did this asshole think he was? And Reeve already had an alpha—her dad. Even though she had left Havenwood Falls, she never swore a loyalty oath to another den.

When you’re alone without anything to occupy your time except for your thoughts, it’s a good time for reflection. Aside from a few friends from school and work, Reeve didn’t have a huge social network in Denver—even though she’d lived there for more than six years. She’d always planned to eventually come home and be with her family and the den. She didn’t realize how homesick she really was, and soon came to the realization that it could be days until someone noticed she was missing.

* * *

Reeve paused to catch her breath. Now that she was able to talk about her experience and personal revelations, the words poured out. The fact that Patrick listened without interruption was nice, too. He had stopped pacing the room and joined her in bed again. Occasional kisses on her neck and shoulders or a reassuring squeeze gave her encouragement to continue. It was hard to believe that just three days before they were total strangers yet she never felt so connected to anyone. The connection came from deep within and was more than physical, although they had spent most of the weekend in bed with the exception of eating and showering.

Reeve traced a finger along Patrick’s chest and up his neck, the smooth skin transitioning to rough stubble when she approached his jawline. Her fingertip came to a rest on the dimple in his chin and she watched as the corners of his mouth lifted into a grin.

“Finish your story, love. We can play later,” he whispered, lifting her finger to his lips and kissing the tip before placing her hand on his hip.

“Deal,” she said with a sigh and snuggled against him. “First, I have to explain that I left Havenwood Falls for Aster. You’re new to town, so you don’t know how miserable Aster was being my younger sister.” Reeve sighed. “I hated that she was miserable, and it wasn’t as if I tried to be popular. I’m fairly outgoing, and in middle school and high school, people just gravitated towards me.” She shrugged. “Classes were easy for me, too, so I succeeded as a student. But Aster was shy, and school was harder for her. When I tried to help, she thought I was taking pity on her. It didn’t help that, with us being two years apart, she was constantly being compared to me.” Reeved paused for a breath and rearranged herself before continuing. “It wasn’t fair to hold myself back, and our parents were concerned that I would—and they were right. I love Aster and would do anything for her. So I thought it best to leave Havenwood Falls and began applying to colleges. My parents heard me out and were concerned about Aster, too. Braden, our big brother, was always running interference and trying to maintain peace between us. He even agreed with my plan. So, my parents made arrangements for me to leave. I’m not sure what my dad had to do in order to get approval from the Court to have a spell put on me to counteract the memory spell. He has never told me. Less than a year later, I left for Denver.”

“You did that for Aster?” Patrick asked, and she heard the awe in his voice.

“Well, yeah, she’s my sister. It worked too. She was able to grow up as Aster McCabe, not Reeve McCabe’s little sister.”

“I had no idea. Aster alluded to a rivalry of sorts, but she never went into detail.”

“She wouldn’t as it wasn’t a good period for us. We definitely had our moments and defined cat fights,” Reeve joked, earning a chuckle from Patrick that rumbled deep in his chest like a purr. It lightened the tension Reeve felt building like a storm inside her, but that was short lived. She still had to finish telling Patrick about Damian.

“So, anyway, I was reflecting on my life and what led me to being held prisoner by a whack job I swore that if I was lucky enough to escape Damian, that I’d return home and start working on my relationship with Aster. I mean, we’re both adults now, and hopefully enough time has passed to heal any old wounds. I latched onto this goal like a drowning person holding onto a lifesaver, and it made me more determined than ever to find a way out.”

“And then you come home and meet me. Fuck! Aster has to be hurting so bad right now. We were supposed to be going away this weekend for our six-month anniversary.” Patrick was out of bed again and pacing his room. He ran his hands through his hair, which already stood up in spikes because right after his last shower, they had found their way back in bed. At this point, his hair looked like it had been through a hurricane.

“I know.” Reeve struggled to swallow, her throat suddenly thick with emotion. “We can’t control who our mate is, though. This is something Damian Stone doesn’t understand.” Thinking of the man replaced the sadness with anger. She’d been through hell for months because of that asshole.

“How did you get away from him?” Patrick asked.

Reeve returned to her story.

* * *

Scott came back to check on her a few hours later, and after handcuffing her again, escorted her to the bathroom. She hadn’t showered, and was still just wearing Damian’s T-shirt. She wasn’t concerned about showing skin, but didn’t like feeling vulnerable. She asked Scott if she could get some real clothes, and he said he’d check with Damian. Then he locked her back up in the room again. Shadows grew longer as the day wore on, and Reeve paced the room until her legs ached. She curled up on the bed, facing the door, and stared at the doorknob as if willing it to turn. At some point she fell asleep, because she woke up with Damian curled up behind her, one of his hands on her bare thigh.

Screaming, Reeve leapt off the bed and landed on all fours in a crouch. Her entire body shuddered, on the verge of shifting, but she fought back the urge. A muffled growl came from the room next door, and something hit against the other side of the wall.

“Now is that any way to greet your mate?” Damian said. He remained lying on the bed, shirtless, but Reeve thanked God he still had jeans on. Under different circumstances, she’d probably find him attractive. He was a solid male specimen, of that there was no doubt, but his size just made her realize how much smaller she was in comparison.

Reeve didn’t respond to his question and remained silent, glaring at him from her crouched position.

He clucked his tongue at her like she was an errant child, and slithered off the bed. He probably thought he was being sexy and seductive, but his movements were predatory. Reeve warily watched him approach and didn’t back away. He came to stand in front of her and squatted down so they were eye to eye. “Such gorgeous green eyes. I hope at least one of our children inherits those.”

Reeve flinched, and he seemed to enjoy this momentary lapse in her façade.

“Scott tells me you requested clothes?”

He caught her off guard with the change of subject. She nodded.

“You can have clothes and a shower, but only with one condition.”

This shouldn’t have surprised her. He had all of the negotiating power at this point. “What’s that?”

“You have to eat dinner with me. We should get to know each other. We’ll eat downstairs since you’ve been cooped up in here all day. Do you accept?”

The idea of seeing more of the house was the hook that made her say yes. Damian, pleased with her answer, stood to go, and she slowly rose out of the crouched position.

“See you in one hour,” he said, before leaving the room. Seconds later, she heard the key turn in the lock.

True to his word, Damian sent Scott a few minutes later with a pair of black lace panties and a bra. He handed Reeve a little black cocktail dress and set a pair of red heels on the floor. Apparently dinner was going to be a formal affair. He escorted Reeve to the bathroom again, where towels were laid out for her and a plush cotton robe hung on a hook by the shower. A toothbrush and toothpaste had also appeared. They were on the edge of the sink next to a wide-toothed comb.

Reeve took her time in the shower, hoping the warm water would relax her muscles, but they might as well have been made of concrete, she was so tense about the dinner. Based on the sexy, lacy underthings, she suspected Damian had her in mind for dessert. That was not happening. A knock on the door told Reeve her time was up. With a sigh, she turned off the faucets.

Damian appeared at the door to her room with a bouquet of red roses in hand. It was like he thought he was showing up at her apartment to take her on a date—not that she was his prisoner and had zero choice in the matter. Scott followed him into the room carrying a plastic vase of water, which he placed on the windowsill. “No glass until we establish some trust,” Damian explained as he set the roses in the vase.

They left the room, Damian cupping Reeve’s elbow and keeping her close to his side, while Scott picked up the rear. As they walked down the hallway, they passed the door for the room next to Reeve’s, the room where she had heard someone growl earlier.

“That’s Phoebe’s room. She’s a willful one, too. It must be a trait with alpha females. She misbehaved earlier; otherwise she’d be joining us for dinner.”

Reeve’s stomach sank when he confirmed that another shifter was being held captive. If she had needed confirmation this guy wasn’t hooked up right, that would have been it, but she already knew he wasn’t playing with a full deck.

“What did she do?” Reeve asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

“She tried to kill herself by slicing her wrists with her claws.”

Jesus! Reeve thought. She would have had to partially shift to make that happen. Suicide among shifters was rare to almost nonexistent. It was as if they were wired for survival no matter what.

“Tamara is on the other side of you, but she’s moving tonight to my house, as she finally submitted. She earned my trust, and soon we’ll have a mating ceremony.”

“This isn’t your house?” Reeve asked.

“Well, I own it, but I don’t live here. This is more of a training facility, and only a select few know its true purpose.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Damian guided Reeve forward with his hand on the small of her back. The heat radiating off his skin burned through the thin fabric of her dress, and she imagined a handprint forever imprinted on her back like a brand. For the first time, she was being taken downstairs. At the bottom, to the right, was the front door, and her heart raced at the close proximity, until she noticed the three different locks, all requiring a key. Directly across the hall, there was a sparsely furnished living room. The furniture looked stiff and uncomfortable, more for decoration than function, like a setup in a model home. Damian steered Reeve to the left, away from the front door, and down a short hallway into a dining room. The chandelier over the table cast dim lighting, and the table was set for two, with another bouquet of roses and two white taper candles as the centerpiece.

Damian held a chair out for her, and she sank down on the cushion, the straight back forcing her to sit just as straight. An older woman appeared through a side door and poured red wine into their glasses. She kept her eyes down in deference to Damian. Her gray hair was pulled back into a bun, making her entire weather-beaten face visible.

“Dinner will be served in ten minutes, sir,” she said, looking at the floor.

“Good. Right on schedule. Thank you, Marta,” Damian responded, dismissing her with a nod. The woman left as silently as she arrived, and Damian lifted his glass into the air for a toast. “To the future of our kind, and that our children grow up to be a generation of strong leaders.”

He held his glass out toward her, but Reeve refused to pick up hers. Like hell was she going to toast to that.

“Come on now, Reeve. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Great. The easy way is to let me go.” She stood up and started walking to the front of the house. Damian thundered behind her, and suddenly his arms were around her waist. Before she could react, he picked her up and carried her back into the dining room, where he forcefully placed her in the chair.

“You are not leaving. The sooner you get that through that stubborn brain of yours, the easier it will be for you. Unless you prefer being locked up in that tiny room?”

Reeve didn’t say anything, but glared at him and couldn’t control her lip from curling up as a growl rumbled deep in her chest. Her cat begged to be set free, the idea of captivity just as unappealing to her as it was to Reeve. They sometimes disagreed on things, but on this they were in full accord. Damian was dangerous and a threat to their independence, to their future. Reeve thought of Phoebe, the other alpha female who was a stranger to her, but her sister in this experience. She was desperate enough to attempt suicide, and Reeve refused to get to that point. Now wasn’t the time to fight, and as hard as it was to do, she called to her cat and coaxed her down. Soon, Reeve promised her cat.

* * *

“Jesus fucking Christ. This guy has more captives? What the fuck? I’m going to find him and end his ass. He’s fucking done!” Patrick raged and punched the wall next to the door, leaving a fist-sized hole in the drywall.

“No!” Reeve cried out and reached for his hand, pulling him back to bed. He reluctantly sat down on the edge, but his back was ramrod straight, the muscles in his shoulders tensed for a fight. “He’s lethal. It’s too dangerous! But,” she paused.

“But what?” He turned to look at her.

“What if he follows me here? I think he’s crazy enough to do it.”

“Good.” Patrick stood and turned to face her, his entire naked body on display; every cord of muscle there for her to see. His eyes had turned the color of molten gold and blazed with fury. He was shorter than Damian, but only by a couple of inches and equally built. “Let him come here. He’s a fool if he does. I’ll die protecting you and so will your den.”

“You don’t understand. The last conversation I had with Damian scared the shit out of me…and my cat.”

“What did he say?”

* * *

Reeve resolved to shut Damian out, and ate in complete silence. Right before he locked her up in her room that night, she broke down and asked him one question. “Is your entire den on board with this plan of yours?”

He grinned, a display of strong, sharp teeth. “Not everyone knows of the plan, and I’ve been challenged a few times, but I’m still here and the challengers . . . well, they’re dead.”

On that chilling note, he closed the door. The sound of the lock being engaged seemed to echo in Reeve’s ears, putting her inner cat on full alert.

She didn’t sleep that night. Instead she perched on the windowsill, staring at the stars and getting her bearings. The window faced west, and a faint glow in the distance told Reeve there was some sort of city, town, hell, even an airport or something nearby that emitted a lot of light. She hoped it was Denver, but even if it wasn’t, that glow was a beacon in the darkness. If she could get out of the house, she’d make a break for it, because she was light on her paws and had always been one of the fastest runners in the den. She mentally reviewed the layout of the house over and over again, trying to recall the smallest of details that might mean a way out of captivity. Then finally it dawned on her how she could escape. She couldn’t be handcuffed, though. The cuffs prevented her from shifting.

The sky was beginning to lighten by the time Reese formulated her plan. With her mind at ease, she crawled into bed and fell asleep. This time when she woke up, Damian wasn’t in bed with her, and she didn’t hear any movement on the second floor. A tray of breakfast food was on the floor by the bed. Knowing she needed the energy to shift, she ate everything. Not too long after that, she heard someone coming up the stairs. Based on the heaviness of the tread, she could tell it was a man. Crouching down by the floor, she pressed her nose near the gap underneath the door and inhaled. She recognized the scent and smiled, since she had factored Scott into her plan. She quickly stood up and quietly moved to stand behind the door.

Just as she planned, it swung open, and when Scott didn’t see her, he stepped farther into the room and made the mistake of not looking behind the door first. He had the handcuffs in one hand, which left him at yet another disadvantage. It only took her seconds to shift, and Reeve didn’t even wait for all four paws to hit the ground before she pounced. He turned toward her, and she bowled him over onto his back. In one fluid motion, she locked her jaws over his throat, and hot blood burst into her mouth as she ripped his throat out. His heart stuttered once before it grew silent forever.

She didn’t linger, but bounded down the hall, practically leaping down the stairs with one jump. She slid a little bit on the hardwood floor when she landed and struggled to gain traction, but it didn’t matter. Her presence was still undetected. She darted down the short hallway and into the dining room, where the exit had been behind her back the entire time she was eating dinner. French doors led out to a patio. These doors didn’t have bars covering the panes of glass, which shattered and rained down in a million glittering pieces when she smashed through them. The backyard was empty, but Reeve heard voices shouting behind her. They spurred her cat into action. With the lingering taste of copper on her tongue from Scott’s blood, she disappeared into the woods and kept running.

* * *

“That’s how I escaped, and once I did, I ran in the direction of the hazy glow and found my way to the outskirts of Denver, not far from the warehouse. Not surprisingly, my car was gone from the parking lot. I didn’t want to risk going into Denver and seeing my friends. I mean, that’s the first place Damian would look for me, right?”

Patrick murmured in agreement, but didn’t say anything. She coax him back into bed, hoping to calm him down. He rejoined her and wrapped his arms around her, but he was so tense, she might as well have been in the arms of a marble statue. She tilted her head to look at him and noticed his eyes glowing. The human pupils were replaced by catlike slits. Reeve could feel his anger as if it was her own. She was still not used to the bond, so it was a little overwhelming.

“Hey, I’m okay. I’m here. I stayed in the woods and in my cat form until I reached Havenwood Falls. I arrived at my parents’ back door late Thursday night. They were surprised to see me standing naked on the deck, and they had a lot of questions, but I was too exhausted to answer them.”

“Does your dad know about this Damian guy?” Patrick asked, his cat eyes boring into Reeve’s.

“No. My dad was in a meeting when I woke up, and my mom was gone, so I headed right down to Coffee Haven to see Aster.”

“And then you met me.”

“And then I met you . . . and we’ve been in bed ever since,” Reeve said with a mischievous grin, and wiggled against Patrick, getting the desired reaction.

He grinned back, and his eyes returned to normal as he rolled over so he was on top of Reeve and her legs were wrapped around his hips.

Patrick was about ready to enter her when a loud boom shook the walls. He practically flew off her, almost as if he was levitating, and he shifted midair before landing in a crouch on the floor, positioning himself between the door and the bed, ready to protect his mate.

“Oh, shit!” Reeve shouted when the bedroom door crashed open and she saw Damian standing in the doorway.

The crazy fucker had actually followed her to her hometown, onto her territory.

She watched with dread as Damian shifted, and Patrick went on the attack. The snarling, clawing mass of fur moved out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Patrick immediately dominated and forced Damian back toward the broken front door. Reeve couldn’t believe it, because Damian was clearly one of the largest cats she had ever seen, but Patrick was faster and delivering more swipes. His claws dug deep into Damian’s side, and blood immediately welled up, but Damian didn’t even flinch.

The fight moved into the living room, escalating with each assault. Blood sprayed onto walls, and bloody paw prints covered the floor. Patrick moved in for another swipe, but Damian pivoted at the last minute, pouncing onto Patrick’s back. Teeth and claws sunk in deep, and when Patrick yelped, Reeve’s heart almost stopped beating. The instinct to protect her mate took over, and she dropped the bed sheet she had wrapped around her body to shift. The moment she was completely transformed, she launched at Damian, tackling him from the side and dislodging his grip from Patrick. She hit him with such force that they rolled out of the hole where the front door used to be, and down two stairs onto the front walkway.

Damian growled and hissed as they circled each other on the small lawn. Reeve kept crouched low, her gaze unwavering until movement behind Damian caught her attention. Patrick stalked down the small set of stairs to join the fray. She noticed he favored his right rear leg, which was shredded, the exposed muscle and tissue red and raw against his sandy brown fur. That momentary distraction gave Damian a window, and he seized the opportunity, knocking Reeve over and pinning her on her back. He was much heavier and more solid than her brother Braden, whom she used to spar with, and she knew she was outmatched, but she wasn’t going to give up.

Damian snapped his jaws near her face, trying to access her throat, but she evaded him. Using her hind legs, she scratched at his soft underbelly, and when he wavered, this provided the encouragement she needed. Lodging her legs under him, she pushed with all of her strength and succeeded in shoving him off while deepening the wounds on his stomach.

Patrick leaped over Reeve, where she was still lying prone on the ground, and went on the attack again. At this point, they had drawn a crowd. Patrick’s neighbors in the surrounding apartments stepped out onto their front steps, a gathering of werewolves, witches, fae, and humans. Reeve heard sirens in the distance, and she knew the sheriff and a containment team had been dispatched. A sharp crack followed by a loud yelp sent Patrick to the ground. Shattered bone stuck out through the wound on his previously injured leg. Damian moved in for the kill.