Stenheim was a mess. In the mercenaries’ defense, the situation had forced them to resort to desperate measures. If they had been able to tackle the bandits their own way from the start, then they would not have done it this way. If they had been able to tackle the bandits by night, rather than coming to rescue me during the day, then they would again have done things differently. But the bandits were dead – perhaps a few stragglers had managed to get past Rex, but they would not be back – and not a single villager had been killed in the battle, the bandits being so keen to get out that they did not stop for reprisals.

I felt as if I had played my part. When Bren had gone to take my message to the guys, they had already been on their way, assuming that by that time I must have gotten myself into trouble, so he had met them en route. He had told them of the sheer number of bandits they would be encountering – several gangs’ worth – and they had altered their plan accordingly. Without my rash intervention, they might not have prevailed.

As for the people, they were forever grateful and wore their guilt heavily. Taka, of course, dismissed it out of hand; ‘it’s all worked out for the best, hasn’t it?’

Had it?

For a while, it had not seemed that way to me. By the time Taka found me and Luca, he had lost more blood than I could bear to think about. His body looked broken and felt limp in my hands as my tears fell on it. Taka was an experienced battlefield surgeon, used to dealing with the horrific injuries of war, but I could see the concern in his face when he looked over Luca.

“Do you need me to fetch anything?” I asked, still desperate to be useful. “Water or anything?”

“I need you to hold his hand and talk to him,” said Taka, gravely.

“Talk to him?”

“Right now, what he needs more than anything else is something to live for. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Luca with anything to live for, but you’re it.”

And so, I knelt there on the floor with Luca, whispering words of love into his ear as his commander stitched him up.

I don’t know how much I helped him pull through - Taka’s surgery was surely the deciding factor – but when the mercenary leader took me aside afterwards, he thanked me.

“A month ago, injuries like that would have killed Luca and I think he’d have been happy enough to die. Since meeting you, he wants to live. Don’t underestimate how much that matters. Thank you, Keira. You may have just saved my friend’s life. And not just today.”

Though I would hardly have called Luca’s brush with death a plus point, it did mean that the guys were forced to linger in Stenheim longer than they had originally planned. Tough though Luca was, even he could not travel with the injuries he had sustained, though, of course, he protested that he could.

The guys were made more than welcome by my friends and neighbors, and I myself was treated as a co-hero of the hour for bringing them here. Again, I thought there was more than a little guilt over what I had endured, and people were keen to make amends any way they could. Funnily enough, I found that I didn’t resent anyone for what had happened, and felt no need for them to make it up to me in any way. Perhaps a little of Taka had rubbed off on me – there were worse things that could happen.

As for the guys, with the exception of Luca, they made themselves busy. The town had taken a beating from the bandit occupation, the horse stampede, and the following battle. There were repairs to be made all over Stenheim and Taka, Rex and Kai willingly pitched in while their comrade was convalescing. I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I took a warm pleasure in watching them work; Rex, working shirtless, sweat sheening his massive body as he carried piles of planks to where they were needed; Kai, nimbly ascending buildings to re-thatch roofs, beaming a smile as he worked; Taka, his strong arms, gleaming as he worked, cutting down trees, and stripping the branches. It was not just how strong and handsome they looked as they worked, watching them in this rural setting activated a wealth of other related images in my head. Hopeless dreams that would never come true, but there seemed no harm in indulging them.

“What will you do when they leave?” Bren and I were seated up near the crags, tending the goats. Though it had once been used as a punishing chore, I now found I relished the quiet and peace. A little excitement can put what matters in perspective.

I shrugged. “What can I do?”

“I think they’d take you along if you asked.”

I shook my head. “No. They’ve made that very clear.”

“They love you. All of them. I don’t claim to know how that works, and please don’t ever feel obligated to explain, but it’s as clear as the nose on your face. And you love them, too.”

Of course I did. But they were them and I was me. Their place in the world was out there, having adventures. Mine was here among the goats. Truth be told, however much I would miss them, however much I wished I was going along with them so I could stay with them, I did not envy them their life. In one day, I had had enough blood to last me a lifetime. Nearly losing Luca had put a firm end to any idea I had of being a mercenary’s wife – to sit at home, waiting to find out if they would all come home alive? I couldn’t have borne it. Maybe there was money to be made out of their life, but they had to walk a bloody trail to get it. I hoped it was worthwhile for them, I hoped that the money made it worthwhile, and I understood Taka when he said that he never wanted to be poor again – never to be beholden to powerful and influential men. But I was happier with the goats. If only there had been a way to have both.

“How’s Dana?” I asked. Bren’s heroism during the bandit raid – which the guys had helpfully talked up – had gotten him the girl he wanted.

“She’s great. Don’t change the subject.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me you’ll fight for what you want. That’s what the Keira I grew up with would do. They’ve said you can’t go with them – when was the last time you did as you were told?”

“Maybe I’ve grown as a person.” I had shared pretty much every aspect of my life with Bren since we were toddlers, but I couldn’t explain this to him. I couldn’t explain how my view of my little village had changed so much. I had always loved my village, but now it was more than that, it felt like a part of me. I had had a similar experience to that of Taka and the other guys – I had left home and found something wonderful outside of it; the guys. There had been a period when I had hated my village and would have left it and the people in it behind. But I had been lucky, I had not had to see my village destroyed to learn how much it mattered to me. I had not left it too long, I had still been able to go home. I understood the guys better now.

“How are the folks?” asked Bren, changing the subject.

I grinned. “I think Mom would wrap me up in wool if she could.”

We went on chatting until the sun began to lower in the sky and then wandered down the slope home. Every time I watched that sun set, it made me wonder; how many more sunsets till I had to say goodbye to the most important men in my life?

Where they went, I could not follow, but how could I go on with my life without them?

Alone, was one answer to that. I knew already that there were no other men for me in the world.

It was the following morning that I went to see the guys in the house on the outskirts that the village had given them.

“You’re up,” I exclaimed as I entered and found Luca sitting at the table with the others eating breakfast. He looked his old self again and though I was delighted to see it, I also knew that this heralded their departure.

“And fighting fit,” said Luca with a smile.

I smiled back, but inside my heart was breaking. “So, you’ll be off to Lord Krius’s territory?”

“There’s a lot of money waiting for us,” said Taka, evenly.

“And work,” added Rex.

“You think he’s held the job for you?” I asked, half-hoping the answer might be ‘no’. “You’re a lot later than he expected.”

“But we’re also the best,” Kai pointed out. “Why would you go with someone else when you could have us?”

That was a question I had been asking myself a lot, of late. “Well, he’s very lucky to have you.”

“Who said he’d have us?” asked Taka.

“What?” I frowned. “You just…”

“I said there was a lot of money waiting for us. I didn’t say we were going to collect it.”

There seemed to be a roaring sound in my ears as blood rushed to my head. I’d had this dream before but it always ended.

“You’re not… You’re not?”

Taka shrugged. “Money isn’t everything.”

“And there are jobs to do here, as well,” said Rex.

“Not very well paid ones,” I replied.

“Depends what you count as ‘well paid’,” shrugged Kai. “A place to call home? I don’t know if you can put a price on that.”

“The chance to hang up our weapons,” added Rex.

“Find a little peace,” suggested Taka.

“A life,” said Luca, looking straight at me. It had been a long time since life had meant anything to him, now it did again. He would never forget Joss, but he could finally see a life after her.

“Besides,” said Taka, standing, “do you really think that any of us could bear to leave you? Lord Krius could give us his whole fortune and hand over the keys to his kingdom; it wouldn’t mean a damn thing without you there.”

There isn’t a word to describe what it feels like when your dreams come true.

I rushed and hugged them, one at a time, and then all together. Once upon a time, I had hoped that rather than me going out to see the world that the world would come to me; it looked as if it had.

When my tears of happiness were shed, when I had kissed them all at least five times each, and when we were all settled and happy in the start of a curious domestic bliss between the five of us, I grinned, wicked thoughts already entering my head.

“Now Luca is better, I think there’s something that can’t be put off any longer.”

“What?” asked Taka.

“You told me not to come back to Stenheim – that day in the cave – I disobeyed you. Luca, after you rescued me, you told me not to try and help; I disobeyed you. Rex, you told me to run and hide in a house; I didn’t. I disobeyed you. Kai, in the tower, you told me to stay put and I ran out. I disobeyed you. I disobeyed all of you.” The guys stared at me, unsure where this was going. “I won’t feel right about it until I’ve been properly punished.”

The guys exchanged looks as realization dawned.

“Well then, we’d better get started.”

I headed for the bedroom. Four sharp spankings and then four beautiful men making love to me for the rest of the day…For the rest of my life.

Sometimes, it paid to be a disobedient girl.

Want more Savannah Skye? Check out , free in Kindle Unlimited now!

Part wolf-shifter and part human, private investigator Lana Malone struggles to fit into either world, so she spends her time on the outside looking in. But when she's hired by formidable wolf-pack leader Kenai King to find out who made an attempt on his life, her investigation leads her to his three captivating sons.

Tanner, the eldest, tough and stern, with a wild side that won't be tamed. Gray, somber and intense as he tries to come to grips with the death of his mate. Hudson, quick-witted with a silver tongue and bedroom eyes that hide something far deeper.

Chapter One

The window of my office didn't exactly afford the most picturesque view in the city. There was the liquor store - a cliché, perhaps, but there it was - a few houses with boarded up windows that looked like they'd been squeezed in, jostling for space; and the steps leading down to the subway. It might not have been pretty, but it was pretty typical of the district. It could have been any corner in the city, nothing about it to indicate anything special. But if I tipped my chair back so my eye-line shifted a little higher, to the rooftops, then there, silhouetted against the slate-grey sky, I would see the sentinel.

To the casual observer, the figure would have just looked like a man standing on the top of the building, perhaps enjoying the view, bird watching, or contemplating suicide - all popular pursuits in this area of town. But to those who knew the importance of the street, the man's presence took on new meaning. I knew that he had been there now for four hours, barely moving, his gaze relentlessly scanning the scene beneath. I knew that when he did finally leave, he would be replaced by someone else. That building would always have a sentinel on it because the street marked the edge of Kenai territory, beyond that, it was No Man's Land for about a block and a half, then you were in Arctic territory.

Humans crossed these invisible boundaries every day, back and forth between territories without even thinking, without even knowing there was anything there, but to a werewolf, such boundaries were as uncrossable as the Berlin Wall - back in the day - and those who crossed without permission did so at risk of their lives.

I was not a werewolf. Nor, strictly speaking, was I human. Courtesy of my grandmother, I was one-quarter werewolf. I remembered my gran as a kindly old lady, smelling faintly of lavender, who had an apparently inexhaustible supply of hard candy secreted in the various pockets of her cardigan, and who occasionally turned into a wolf. As a child, I found these changes hilarious, as a teen, I found them embarrassing, as an adult, I just missed my gran, regardless of her shape. At no point did I find it weird. I, myself, didn't turn, even at full moon - though it could make me a little angsty and I lost more boyfriends that night than any other - but my heritage gave me a certain affinity with the creatures without being one of them or having to pledge allegiance to one of the four packs that shared the city. I could smell where the boundaries between the pack territories were, but I didn't have to stick to them, and could cross with impunity.

Best of both worlds.

Or a failure to fit into either.

Certainly, humans looked at me differently when they found out about my ancestry, wondering if I might tear their throat out for fun, while werewolves could smell the mix of wolf and human on me and didn't like or trust it.

Perhaps that feeling of not belonging in either world was what led me to becoming a private investigator, a job that attracted the loners of the world. People rank private eyes and part-wolves about on a par on the scale of general mistrust, and as long as I was already being mistrusted by both factions of society, I figured I might as well make some money out of it. Besides, I liked puzzles and got off on solving them. As far as I knew, I was the only part-wolf investigator in the city, a position of distinction that made people avoid me like the plague until the wires got crossed in the simple, segregated circuits of their lives. Humans and werewolves didn't mix much socially, but shit happens, and when it did, I was there to pick up the pieces.

All of that, I guess, was why Kenai King came to me.

I heard the door open in my outer office and went to see who was there - recent financial complications had left me without a secretary. I opened the door and stood, wide-eyed like an idiot, staring at my three visitors. Two of them would have made anybody stare; they were massive slabs of muscle, their bald heads almost reaching the ceiling, their low brows advertising equally low intelligence, their over-sized bodies stuffed into ill-fitting suits. But it was the third, less immediately arresting man, who had stopped me in my tracks.

"Miss Malone?" The silver-haired man smiled, showing his sharp canine teeth.

The last person I expected to find in my office, first thing on a Monday morning, was the most powerful werewolf in the city, perhaps in the country.

"Pack Leader," I replied, showing my knowledge by using his proper title. "What can I do for you?"

Pack Leader Kenai King's unsettling grin remained on his face as he answered. "Someone is trying to kill me. I'd like you to find out who."

Four werewolf packs made their territories in the city, and while you could not put all of them in order of supremacy, the Kenai were undoubtedly top of the pile. Since the time of King's grandfather, the Kenai Pack had held the center of the city, all the best areas and most expensive real estate. The boundaries might fluctuate through skirmishes and minor wars but, for now, at least, the Kenai seemed immovable and invincible, and Kenai King was known as a ruthless leader.

King turned to his vast bodyguards. "Stay here."

He then strode past me, leading me back into my own office with the confident air of one who has been the most important person in every room he walks into his entire life. I followed, closing the door behind me.

"With respect, Pack Leader, aren't people trying to kill you part of your job description?"

King nodded. "That is true. But this is different. Closer to home."

"Perhaps you'd better tell me the whole story."

King sat down with athletic elegance. He moved with the animal grace that so many werewolves strived for and achieved with varying degrees of success. He was in his sixties now, but still in good condition and still a very handsome man for his age - if you liked that kind of thing; I got over my daddy issues some years ago.

"Last week was the Lunar Hunt."

Every full moon, werewolves gather for a state-sanctioned hunt. One of the agreements reached in the General Amnesty - which had first allowed werewolves to live among humans as equal citizens - was that hunting was a cultural tradition and could not be completely outlawed. That said, hunting a human at any time, as wolves had pre-1917, was obviously not compatible with being a worthwhile part of society. So a compromise had been reached. The werewolves would be given one night a month - the night of the full moon - when they could hunt, as a pack, with impunity. More than that, packs would be given the names and details of certain people that the state could well do without for them to hunt. These people were usually rapists, child-molesters and the like, whom the police had either been unable to catch or whom they knew to be guilty but lacked the evidence to convict.

Evading the nose of a wolf was not so easy. There had initially been some opposition and some protests that, as punishments went, this one was probably cruel and definitely unusual, but the voices of defense for such people were never very loud, and when the number of such crimes began to drop as criminals responded to the new and terrible penalty for their actions, even those few voices were silenced. By now, the Lunar Hunt was viewed as an essential part of a civilized society and people wondered how we ever managed without it.

"It is one of the few times," King continued, "when I can get away from my bodyguards - in the heat of the hunt, anything goes. People forget themselves. We were chasing the prey through the alleys not far from our heartland."

Though they hold large territories, most packs have one particular area that they identify as 'home'.

"I was leading the chase - naturally - and we caught up to him on one of the side streets. As the pack was descending on him, I felt someone grab my collar and pull me back. Now, when the hunt ends, it's a bit of free for all, everyone jostling to get their pound of flesh, and a young wolf might not look too hard at who he's got hold of. I just assumed that some over-eager pup had grabbed me by the scruff without looking - not knowing who I was. So, I turned around to put him in his place."

Kenai King paused in his story. He untucked his shirt from the waistband of his pants to lift it, twisting his body slightly to show me a bandage stuck across his side.

"If I hadn't been so quick to turn, the knife would have gone into my back and I might not be here talking to you."

"Did you get a look at the guy?" I asked.

King snorted. "If I got a look at him, we'd have taken care of this ourselves. He turned as I moved, keeping out of sight as he stuck the knife in. A knife!” he spat contemptuously. "What sort of weapon is that for a wolf? I lashed back at him - claws out, but I just caught the palm of his hand. Drew blood, though."

"He ran?" I guessed.

"By that point, he knew he'd fucked the whole thing up so he took to his paws. I yelled for the rest of the pack..."

"What had they been doing up to now?" I wondered.

"Feeding," said King, bluntly. "At the end of a hunt, a bomb going off wouldn't distract a wolf from the kill. It was the perfect time for an assassination attempt."

All this was interesting, but not unusual. To attain their lofty position in the city, the Kenai had made enemies in all the other packs, and while King had inherited a large territory, he had not been shy about enlarging it over the years whenever an opportunity presented itself - a street here, a warehouse there; anything ill-defended fell prey to the ruthless expansionist outlook of the Kenai Pack Leader. That sort of attitude did not make you friends, it also meant that the Kenai territory was a rich treasure for any Pack Leader with the balls to try and take it. And the first step to that would be killing King.

But that sort of intrigue was the everyday life of werewolves. If King had held the Arctic, Hokkai or MacKenzie packs responsible, then he would have responded with border raids, taking revenge in blood. He certainly wouldn't be consulting a down-at-heel private investigator, who was only a part-wolf, a week after the event. Something more was going on here.

"The pack gave chase," King went on, his voice changing slightly as he spoke, subtly hardening. "I was regrettably incapacitated by my wound but my personal guard and my court went after the assassin. He was bleeding from the wound I gave him, so following him was no problem for any werewolf. He left a trail even you could probably have followed."

I ignored the subtle insult. "Where did it lead?"

King's ice blue eyes flicked away from me for a moment, as if he was wondering if coming here and sharing this with an outsider had been such a good idea. "You must be wondering why I came to you."

"I'm thinking you're about to tell me."

"Those guards out in your office; they are far from the best of my protectors. They are the most stupid. They dumbly do as they are told without any question. Dumb loyalty is sometimes the best kind. They don't have the intelligence for self-interest."

I leaned back in my chair, feeling for the first time as if the balance of power had shifted in my favor, even if I wasn't quite sure why. "Pack Leader, if you have something to say then perhaps you had better just say it."

King's eyes found me again. "The trail led to Heir's House. There it ended. The trail led to my sons."

That explained it. If King were to die, then by natural werewolf law, one of his sons - usually, though not always, the eldest - would take his place as Pack Leader. There had been cases of sons getting a bit impatient and hastening that day, and there had been cases of sons effecting a coup when a Pack Leader seemed weak. But if any of his sons had been planning to oust King, then they could not do it alone, they would need the support of members of the Pack Court. If King suspected his sons, then he also had to suspect his own closest allies.

He could trust no one in his own pack.

So he had come to me. And based on the fact that it had taken him a week to do it, he was not happy about the necessity. Either that, or I just hadn't been his first choice.

"The relationship between myself and my sons," King continued, "is not a close one."

"I had heard." It was common knowledge in the werewolf community, and I tried to keep up with all the gossip.

"Perhaps you have not heard to what extent matters have deteriorated," King went on. "Two weeks ago, I threatened to disinherit all three of them." He pulled a smile that was closer to a snarl. "Perhaps I should have gone through with it. Then, they would have had no cause to kill me."

"More likely, if you had actually disinherited them, they would have come after you by more direct means," I suggested.

King nodded. "Perhaps. But I would have preferred that. To see one of those wastes of space actually winning support for himself, raising an army to take me down. Better yet; challenging me to single combat. To see that would have been worth dying for. At least I would die knowing I had sons who were worth a shit. But a paid assassin sticking a knife in my back?" He shook his head. "I suppose it's all I would have expected of them, but for a Kenai to stoop to such depths is a sad sight indeed."

"Do you have any idea which of them might be responsible?" I asked.

King shifted in his seat, uncomfortable talking about the inadequacies of his bloodline. "Tanner would be the most likely to take action - and I pride myself he does at least have a little of his father in him. But he's rash and hotheaded. Last year, he nearly bit the head off an old friend of mine just because he complimented the female Tanner was with."

I was tempted to ask what 'complimented' meant in this context, but let King go on.

"You can't rule a pack with that sort of thin skin and quick temper. He'd undo all I've achieved in a matter of months. But that same attitude makes me think he wouldn't hire a killer. No, give Tanner his due, he doesn't back away from a fight, doesn't hide in the shadows." King shook his head. "Gray is another matter. Always alone, sullen. Certainly always looks like he's plotting something. Then, there was that female of his - quite inappropriate and I told him so, and he's hated me ever since. Yes, the others may dislike me, but Gray's the one who hates me. And not with a clean, pure anger; he keeps it bottled up. If I had to put money on it..." But even as he spoke, his mind seemed to change. "Then again, I think he wants to be Pack Leader the least. Has no time for it. Not like Hudson."

"Power-hungry?" I suggested.

But King scoffed.

"I wish. No, he would enjoy the financial freedom of it. He likes to play. Women, gambling, you name it. Human women, too. Don't misunderstand me; a young male should have his time in the sun - make a few mistakes, sow a few wild oats, anger a few fathers. I certainly did." He chuckled at the memory of his younger days. "But Hudson is a wastrel, pure and simple. And shows no sign of growing out of it. I cut him off financially last year in hopes of him calming down some. I think he'd like to be Pack Leader just to get hold of the purse strings and then we'll see the wine flow. The Emperor Nero would have nothing on Pack Leader Hudson - fiddling while the Kenai territory burns before him."

He paused again.

"But with the money comes responsibility. And a scoundrel though he is, Hudson knows that it wouldn’t be fun all the time and that he'd have a target on his back. He may want the money, but I'm not sure he wants it quite that badly."

King ran a frustrated hand through his silver hair.

"Not a one of them is fit to be Pack Leader, and, to a wolf, they hate me. But to pick one who would dare to take that final step..." He shook his head. "Perhaps they all did it together. That way, Tanner would get power, Gray his revenge and Hudson his money. But I'm not sure I can see them working together like that, either." He growled under his breath, his wolfishness coming to the surface. "I just don't know, damn it. One of them, two of them, all of them. The guilt lies somewhere in Heir's House. And I’d like you to find out where.”

Obviously, I was going to take the case.

Getting mixed up in werewolf politics is dangerous as hell and a good way to make enemies. When a werewolf uses the phrase 'enemy for life', they meant until they killed you.

On the counter side; the Kenai Pack was extremely wealthy and King was offering me a blank check. But neither of these arguments, against or for, really entered into the decision for me.

Frankly, I would take the case because it was a mystery, and I never could turn away from a good mystery. It was a change from the usual inter-species squabbling and human husbands thinking their wife has gone for a bit of tail - as they say - that made up my day-to-day case load. But above all that, it was the chance to enter into the world of the packs. I strolled through werewolf territory with more awareness than the average human, and, through my gran, I had been a bit more involved in werewolf life, but the secret inner workings of the packs I knew only secondhand. This was not a world into which humans, or part-wolves, were often invited.

I couldn't pass the opportunity up.

To King, my acceptance of the case seemed to be a formality - it had never occurred to him that I might say no.

"On Friday night I am hosting a gala at the Pack Lodge to welcome my new mate. You will come along to get a closer look at my sons, as well as another assurance of my safety. Can’t be too careful now."

He was probably right. He couldn’t even trust his bodyguards anymore - werewolf loyalty tended to be to the pack itself rather than the Pack Leader, and Tanner, Gray or Hudson might well win support as younger, more energetic leaders, or by good old-fashioned bribery.

"I'll be there," I nodded.

"I just said you would." Kenai King did not request obedience; he assumed it, and he got it. He sent a glance over me from top to bottom and cocked his head. "Dress well. This is a formal event."

"I'll check my wardrobe."

The werewolf shook his head, took out a wallet - made from a skin that I decided not to look too closely at - and handed me a bundle of notes. "Don't skimp."

Chapter Two

Little as I liked King dictating my wardrobe, and as tempting as it was to pocket the cash - which I definitely needed - I wound up going shopping, and found a dress that looked the part but didn’t restrict my movement. I had no reason to think things might get physical, but with werewolves you never knew for sure, and the last thing I needed was a long dress for me to trip over or a tight dress I couldn't run in. I went medium-length and loose enough for movement, but it was clear from the moment I arrived at the Pack Lodge that I was the only woman there who had worried about movement when picking what to wear.

Werewolves are raw violent animals, and to counter that roughness, they go glam in a serious way when the event calls for it. The place was a sea of colors; blood red, emerald green, azure blue, all sparkling in the bright lights of the foyer.

There were long trailing dresses that could surely only be worn once, and narrow dresses, split to the hip, showing a wide swath of smooth skin.

There were dresses so short that they required readjustment every few steps, and sitting down in them would give an eyeful of goodies to anyone seated, and plunging neck lines that revealed a canyon of skin between twin peaks of carefully separated breast, contrasting with powerful underwires that subtly thrust bosoms up and together, creating a cleavage you could ski down. There were backless dresses, strapless dresses and dresses that seemed to consist of little more than a few strips of fabric glued on to cover strategic areas.

The heels were high, the hair was huge and the jewelry could have been sold to pay off third world debt.

To be honest, I didn't look that closely because it was making me second-guess my choice of dresses, and because there were other places to look.

Human men, on such an occasion, tend to make less of an effort - just throw on a rented tux and they're done. But werewolf males like to preen almost as much as the females. Some of the open shirts had more plunging necklines than the women, showing off chests that were hairy or waxed, muscular or plump - no one seemed to care much in this world. The pants were tight enough that a doctor could have diagnosed through them. They wore as broad and bright an array of colors as the females and strutted proudly about, sizing each other up. A lot of these parties ended in violence, but it was usually all in good fun.

"Name?" the plainly dressed man on the door asked.

"Lana Malone." But before the words were out of my mouth, he was already frowning - he had caught my scent and knew what I was. "The Pack Leader requested my presence."

The man ran an eye down his list to find my name. "Got ID?"

I reached into the little clutch purse I had brought. I might as well get used to this now; I was going to be getting funny looks all night long.

The man checked my ID, checked his list again, then ID, list, me, list, me, ID, before finally admitting me with a curt jerk of his head. He clearly thought standards at these parties were slipping.

I made my way through the throng, overwhelmed with the smell of werewolf. I had never been in a room with so many of them and it was... Actually, it was intoxicating. Something primal inside me, something that the genetic material of all my human ancestors was unable to fight, uncurled and growled. It would be too much to say that I felt at home, but I felt... Hot. I had never slept with a werewolf - it had always struck me as dangerous - and right now, a part of me that I had always denied was raising its head and howling at the moon.

It was not helped by the fact that I had not slept with anyone in the last six months - the last guy dumped me when he found out what I was. By text, no less. Spineless prick. People got…nervous when they found out the truth. I've always had a healthy sex drive but it's often butted up against my basic belief that sex is best between two people who love each other. Finding love for a part-wolf is difficult, and so I spend a lot of time suppressing that drive and just letting it out every once in a while when I've had too much to drink and need to get laid or explode.

Around humans, I could pretty much cope going without - I got a bit frisky from time to time, but who didn't? - around wolves, however, it was a different matter.

Wolves use pheromones far more than humans, and there was something in the air in that room that was like breathing in sexual desire. Suddenly, six months was seeming like even longer than it was and definitely longer than I could bear. I wanted to jump every man in the room right then and there. More than that, my body knew that this was something that it not just wanted, but that it had never had, and that forever-unfulfilled need for werewolf sex gnawed at my nerves.

I grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and slugged it back. I had to control myself and remember why I was here. Fortunately, pretty much the only thing I like more than great sex is a mystery. I love my work and this was the most important case of my career. Tonight, even with my hormones going nuts, I could keep myself in check. Tomorrow, I was going to a bar and taking home the first man who smiled at me.

"Friends!" The powerful voice of Kenai King soared above the hubbub of the room. He threw back his head and let loose an impressive howl that echoed about the rafters. As one, the rest of the room answered him, all howling, loud enough to shake the Pack Lodge. I wondered if I was supposed to join in or if that would be cultural appropriation.

"Tonight is a special night," King continued, once the last echoes had died away. "Tonight, I welcome a new mate to my harem."

In some respects, werewolves have a very open attitude towards sexual relationships. A male can have as many partners as he can handle and they are all considered his mates. Perhaps more surprisingly, it's the same deal with females; they can have multiple mates to their hearts content and, looking around the room, I could see a few females - particularly the more mature ones - with four or five males around them, all chatting companionably. It was not seen as a problem or anything to be jealous about. The only caveat was that you didn't mate with another wolf's mate without him knowing - or at least you told him afterwards as soon as possible. Affairs where secrecy was involved were settled by bloody duels, which the law had found a way to ignore.

"Welcome Shelby Maria, and know her now and henceforth as Kenai Maria!" As the howl was taken up to welcome King's new bride - 'bride' is not technically the right term but the truth is more complicated - a female walked forward to join King at the front of the dais.

She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. Long and lean, with hair dark brown and smooth, bronze skin. She wore a green dress that looked to have been painted on to her and revealed as much of her body as possible.

I was relieved to note that she looked happy enough to be there, her cherry red lips framing a brilliant white smile, fangs glinting in the light. Kenai King might be three times her age but he was a powerful male, which mattered a lot in this world, and, as I had noted when he visited my office, he was handsome and exuded a charismatic sexuality.

Kenai King wasn't my type - perhaps there's still too much human in me to overlook the age difference and basic nastiness of his nature - but that sort of thing can still be hard to resist.

The thought was on my mind as my gaze went beyond the 'happy couple' to the Kenai Court arrayed behind. Here stood King's closest advisors, his other three mates, and his sons; Tanner, Gray and Hudson.

Perhaps it was the mood I had been put in by the unexpectedly charged atmosphere of the Pack Lodge hall, and my first encounter with the sharp ferocity of werewolf sexuality when they gathered en masse, but when I saw the three brothers, it felt like my libido skipped a beat. They certainly had their father's air of authority, the strong features and rugged good looks, the easy charisma and a virility that seems almost like a physical thing projected from them. Yet, to my eyes, at least, they seemed to lack his smug confidence in all those aspects - they simply were who they were and how they were, taking no pride in their obvious superiority to every other male in the room. Male was the word I found branded on my brain - though they were all very different, they all seemed supremely masculine.

The one in a russet military-style jacket, buttoned across his broad chest, I recognized as Tanner, the eldest son, standing closest to his father, though still not all that close. He was tall with black hair and stern features that seemed to preclude what his father had said about him, were it not for the eyes that stared out from beneath his heavy brow. The eyes were as dark as his hair and a fire burned within them as they flashed almost angrily about the room.

Everything about Tanner seemed to speak of someone keeping themselves in check - he was like a coiled spring, ready for action, ready to explode, ready for anything, and able to handle anything, as well. As I edged closer through the crowd to get a better look, I saw him move and couldn't help admiring the power in his physique. Something as simple as walking a few steps looked like an athletic event when Tanner did it. His clothes were cut snugly enough that I could see the muscularity of his body, I could sense still more of it, and the combination of the two made me want to see the rest firsthand.

Beside Tanner, his face morose, his eyes half-closed, stood middle child, Gray. I wondered if he had been named for the color of his eyes which, even at this remove, I could see were slate with just a hint of blue, like a stormy sky at sea. His brown hair was neatly trimmed and his head hung heavy as the party continued around him.

Despite the vivid green jacket he wore, emblazoned with gold piping and epaulets, he looked like he was the only one here who was at a funeral. His hands were clasped in front of him, and as I looked, I saw they were clasped tightly enough to make the veins pop and the knuckles stand out white. They were unusually long hands, sensitive and artistic, for all their obvious strength and the roughness of them, like a sculptor's hands. My mind leaped without my permission into vivid wondering at what they might feel like roving across my helpless body.

In contrast to the dark energy of his brothers, Hudson seemed to shine. His butter yellow waistcoat, off-set by the brilliantly white shirt, certainly helped, as he looked like a beacon. The light, playful clothing choice did little to disguise the impressive physique beneath - Hudson's body was as strong and beautiful as his face, which was saying something. But there was also a brightness to Hudson, in general. His golden curls were like a halo of vivid gold, his smile was quick and wicked enough that my nipples peaked instantly at the sight of it.

While Gray stood stock still and Tanner walked with deliberate strength, Hudson was never still, the energy that fired through him seeming to need a constant outlet that made him seem to prowl about, vibrating with a tension that moved me. A lot of that energy was sexual, his tight pants were practically an advertisement, and his sharp blue eyes were as active as the rest of him, ever on the move, passing from woman to woman and seeming to like everything he found. I had heard the stories about Kenai Hudson, and knew that there was no way he would be going home alone tonight.

The thought both irritated and intrigued me, and I had to shake off my undue focus on the appearances of the three compelling males and remember my purpose.

Those were my targets.

One of the three men I had just been undressing with my eyes had tried to kill his father and would no doubt try again. This was not how I usually started an investigation, but you play the hand you're dealt, and there was no point pretending that these men were anything other than incredible.

I caught Kenai King's eye.

He had been watching me and had no doubt seen my appraisal of his sons. Fortunately, from the look on his face, he assumed that my interest in them was purely professional, and I was just doing my job - the job he had given me - by checking them out. Men like Kenai King always consider themselves to be the only attractive male in any given room, and never even allow the possibility that a woman might be looking at someone else.

Lucky for me.

"To Kenai King and Maria!" A call went up from some eager sycophant, and the toast was repeated around the hall, augmented by howls as it went.

But the brothers, I noticed, stayed silent. Could it be all of them? Conspiring against their father?

"To the Pack Leader and his mate!" Another toast.

If the brothers were working together, then that alliance would not last, and there would be more blood to come - that type didn't like to share.

"To the future of the Kenai line!"

As this toast was called out, hinting at the possibility of more children for the virile Pack Leader via his fertile new mate, I saw Kenai Tanner turn on his heel and march off the stage, heading for the exit.

I only took a moment to think. Here, King was surrounded by friends, well-wishers and bodyguards - it was possible they were all against him, but if they were, then there was damn all that I could do about it. I was an investigator, not a bodyguard. Better to leave the party and see where Tanner was going. Even if he disliked his father as much as King thought, it was odd for him to leave like that at a time when his inheritance was at stake and he might have been better off ingratiating himself.

Nerves making my hands slick with sweat, I slipped out in pursuit of the eldest of the Kenai heirs.

Get the rest of , now!

Other Books by Savannah Skye

Her Werewolf Harem

Her Demon Harem 1 (Succubus Chronicles)

Her Demon Harem 2

A Witch’s Harem

Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem

Her Howling Harem 1

Her Howling Harem 2

Her Warrior Harem

Her Vampire Harem

Her Immortal Harem 1

Her Immortal Harem 2

Her Deadly Harem

Axe to Grind

Breaking Colt

Better to Eat You

Hard Lesson

Hard Sell

Bad Boy Next Door

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