I woke early.

I had no idea why - after the night before, I'd have said there was a decent chance of me never waking up again.

Can you die from orgasms? I can confidently say not, because if you could, then I would have last night. We slept where we lay, cuddled together as a comfortable foursome - wolves have no issues with sleeping naked, curled up together; why should they? - and that was how I woke. I peered across the landscape of muscular flesh surrounding me.

Even in sleep they looked somehow alert, their strength undimmed, their sexuality as fiercely potent as when they were awake. Curious, I looked between Hudson's legs: no morning wood - I really must have exhausted him. If I were to wake one or any of them now and asked, then they would happily start again. And it would be as awesome as before - my stomach turned flip-flops just thinking about it.

But, looking at them now, as gorgeous as they were, as impressive as they were, as powerfully sexual as I found them, that wasn't where my mind went. Looking at them now, all I felt was an overwhelming wave of love and affection, so strong that it almost choked me. I could have cried for my love of them and for the thought that they loved me back. What had I done to deserve that sort of happiness?

And was I really contemplating giving it away?

I had woken to misgivings fluttering in my stomach, and I would not be able to resolve them here, surrounded by my mates. Gently, I pried myself out from under and between limbs, careful not to wake any of them. Stealing out of my room, my clothes under my arm, I went along the corridor to use Tanner's shower, nodding a good morning to a maid as I went - nothing seemed to surprise them.

I turned the water up as hot as I could stand, hoping it might scald away the fresh memories of the night before that were making it so difficult to make an informed decision. It wasn't about the guys. Of course, it wasn't - they were the best things that had ever happened to me in so many ways. The sex was beyond amazing, and the idea that I might have that in my life was certainly a bonus, but good sex will only get you so far - amazing sex will get you a little further, but not much. If it had just been good - or even amazing - sex I was leaving behind, then I'd have gone back into the bedroom, had one more go just to be polite, and waved goodbye.

But these guys had gotten under my skin and into my head and into my heart. They were special. They were different. They were brave and loyal and loving. They were the best-looking men I had ever seen and yet lacked any arrogance. They were generous and intelligent. Above all, they seemed to care about me no matter what. They accepted this simple, singular bond between us as something wonderful and unique. They wanted to be with me and no one else – which, for a wolf, was really saying something.

But they were also the heirs apparent to the Kenai Pack. Of course, that might change according to the wishes of their father, but either way, if they took me as their mate, then I would be hated, they would be hated, and we all would be targets for violence. Look at the shit that had happened in the last month. Did I really want to be part of a society that treated death in so casual a manner?

If I stayed with them, then that was my life. I thought I was pretty tough, but I didn't want to have to watch my back for the rest of my life. And I didn't want to cause them problems.

I was part-wolf. One way or another, that diluted the great line of the Kenai. If they took other mates with whom to breed, then it would probably be okay, but they didn't want that and I didn't want that. Where did you go from there?

Tonight would be the Lunar Hunt - a month since all this had started. The brothers would be there, and it was as good an opportunity as I was likely to get, to make my excuses and go.

I poured shampoo into my hand.

And stopped.

And stared.

Fuck me.

If it hadn't been for the coincidence of thinking of the Lunar Hunt just as I was looking at my hand, then I might never have thought of it. Perhaps I was mistaken, but as I recalled, Hendry Lennox had had no scar on his hand as the attempted assassin of King must have had.

I finished the shower quickly, dried quicker, pulled on clothes and hurried out, panicked thoughts seething in my mind. Maybe I had made an error. I had had other things on my mind, after all, it was quite possible that I had just missed the scar.

The Kenai holding cells were beneath the Pack Lodge, accessed via a side entrance that led down to the basements. I found a female on reception.

"I need to see Hendry Lennox."

"No one's allowed in." She had sniffed the air on my entry, recognizing me as a part-wolf.

"My name is Lana Malone. If I go to the Pack Leader now, he will give me permission, just before he has you turned inside out. Let me in."

Fortunately, there was someone around who had been there last night and who recognized me and could verify that me and the Pack Leader were best buds. I was led down to the cells where Hendry Lennox was still being kept for now, pending an investigation into his claim that he had been acting on orders.

"I need to see your hands." I said on entering - no time for small talk.

"My what?"

"Your hands, show me your hands, palms out."

The werewolf flicked a look at his jailer, who gave a shrug as if to say 'part-wolves be crazy'. Lennox held out his hands. I flipped them over to look at the other side, just to make sure. Not a scratch on them. Werewolves heal fast, of course, but a scratch like King had described would have left a scar.

We had the wrong man.

It was possible, of course, that MacKenzie Sean had still been responsible and there had been another assassin, but that started to look pretty fucking shaky when you realized that our only definite link to Sean was the word of Hendry Lennox, who was lying. He had attacked me, of course, but that didn't amount to shit. My gut told me that something more was going on, something I wasn't close to the bottom of yet.

I trudged back up to ground level with my mind even more of a whirl than it had been when I went down.

What now?

I had to talk to King, to tell him that he was still in danger, especially with the Lunar Hunt tonight. I needed to talk to the guys, to tell them that someone was probably still trying to frame them. I also needed about half an hour of peace and quiet so I could think clearly about how this had been pulled off and who might have done it.

Frankly, it would be nice if a great big fucking clue bashed me over the head.

Then one did, and I fell to the ground, unconscious.