When Jacques spotted the woman in the cafeteria who he’d been dreaming about all night, he couldn’t resist the urge to talk to her again. Her attention was focused on something in her lap. Her head was down and her long, auburn hair cascaded over one shoulder.

If it were any other woman, Jacques might’ve resisted the urge to chat, but from the very first day she’d run into his arms out in the parking lot and the days after that where he sensed her in the building, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The day he met her, he’d been in the worst mood ever, but after seeing her smile, that expression had changed his perspective on everything.

The good part about this was that he’d already made—and won—almost enough money to pay off the debts left over from his grandmother’s funeral expenses. After she passed away, he hadn’t hesitated when it came to being the one responsible for laying her to rest and settling her affairs. Most of their blood relatives had left Aspen Valley years ago. Jacques’s alcoholic shifter mother had left him with his human father when he was only thirteen months old to “get rich” in Nevada and had never returned. And not too long after that, Jacques’s father decided that he wanted no part in raising a shifter son, so he left him as a toddler with Grandma Kent. Jacques couldn’t even remember what they looked like or the sound of their voices.

As far as Jacques was concerned, his only parent had been Grandma Kent. Sure, Grandma Kent made sure he became acquainted with other shifters his age while growing up, but he barely knew his own blood. On his mother’s side of the family, the Shalane’s had once been the most trusted Omega family of the Aspen Valley Wolf Pack, but sometime before Jacques was born that honor was given to another Omega family that demonstrated better loyalty and moral judgment. Even to this day, whenever anyone mentioned the Shalane name, the family’s legacy was never brought up. Legacy was important to Jacques but not as important to Jacques as respecting the one and only woman who’d cared for him when no one else would take him in. And for that, he was indebted to her.

In order to afford to keep up with his own bills and pick up her final expenses, he had returned to the underground fighting arena. In fact, he had a wad of cash from last night’s win folded up neatly in his wallet. He never thought he’d be back in the arena. Fighting was something he’d done as a young boy to relieve stress. And it just so happened that the stress had mounted following the passing of Grandma Kent. Fighting and winning took care of the bills. The funeral home had kindly accepted an I.O.U. and the hospice group had allowed him a few months to come up with the money to pay all of Grandma Kent’s past due bills. There was light at the end of the tunnel. He just had to hold on and fight on…and soon, he would get there. He would get his prize.

Just a few days ago, he’d come to the realization that the light at the end of the tunnel was a person. A woman. And possibly his mate. There was no other explanation for why his wolf was adamant about tracking her whenever he scented the relaxing combination of ginger and fresh mint. He’d never acted this way before, lusting over a woman who was out of his league. But Natasha had changed his outlook on everything. Was claiming her as his own obtainable?

Because he was on the security team at Reverie Technologies, it didn’t take long for him to navigate the new employees list and discover that she’d been the only woman who’d started work on the same day he ran into her. She’d already been working for Reverie for three days, and each day around one o’ clock, she’d come down from the labs, buy herself a BLT sandwich and a Pepsi, and sit in the furthest corner over by the glass windows overlooking the courtyard. Most of the time, she read, but on some occasions, she appeared to be worried about something.

On this day, Jacques’s wolf urged him on a little more. He bought 2 BLT sandwiches of his own and went over to say hi.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked.

She jumped sharply and the paperback book she’d been reading slipped from her fingers and fell on the floor. He picked up the book and handed it back to her, but not before stealing a glance at the glossy cover, which showed a man’s steely torso with sweaty rock hard abs.

“Hi,” she said, breathlessly.

“Hi. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“No.” She shook her head. “The seat isn’t taken. Please sit down.”

He grinned. “You sure? The book looks really…suggestive.”

She blushed and rolled her eyes, and then she stuffed the book in her purse. “I borrowed the book from a friend. I was just reading to pass the time.”

Jacques sat down and unwrapped his sandwich. “Of course. I read too when I’m not out running or training or something. Non-fiction mostly. Lots of history.”

“Interesting.” She smiled. “I’m Natasha.”

“I know.” He took a huge bite out of his first sandwich. It wasn’t his first or even second meal of the day, but he was still hungry.

She narrowed his gaze. “You know?”

“My apologies.” He held out his hand across the table. “I’m Jacques Shalane Kent. I work in Reverie’s security office. And outside of it, of course.”

“Jacques…” She slipped her baby-soft hands into his and gently squeezed.

“Nice to meet you. How long have you been working here?”

“Not too long. Maybe eight months.”

“And before that?”

“I patrolled the train station downtown,” he replied. “The company got bought by one of those big national firms and they had a reduction in workforce. I got laid off with some severance to hold me over until I found another job but then my Grandma died soon after. Money was running low, so it was a good thing for me that Reverie was expanding.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry to hear about your grandma.”

“It’s life. And after we live, we die…unfortunately. Aren’t you going to eat your sandwich?”

She had barely taken three bites.

“I probably would’ve already gobbled it down by now but it was someone’s birthday in my work unit and we had cake. Chocolate.” She smiled sheepishly. “I had two slices.”

“We don’t have those kind of treats in my department. Save me a slice next time maybe?” He grinned and took two more generous bites of his BLT.

“Maybe.”

Natasha met his gaze and locked it with hers. She swallowed visibly and her eyes moved back and forth casually as they assessed him.

He wanted to know her inside and out. Emotionally. Intimately. There had to have been a reason why he was compelled to follow her around like a sick pup even though his conscious told him that wasn’t…humanlike. She would probably freak out if she knew that he’d seen her around the building and had wanted to introduce himself formally since she ran into him. Since she already knew that he was a shifter and had miraculously accepted his difference without the outrageous theatrics he usually got from women when he revealed his true nature, he didn’t have to go through the awkwardness of explaining himself. When he shifted, why he shifted, how he shifted—

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Sure, as long as you don’t ask me to shift right here on the spot…” He joked. “Anything. Go ahead.”

“How’d you guess?”

Here we go again… “Hmmm?”

“Just kidding. Did you really think I would ask you that?” She laughed. “I told you. I’ve seen it all. Like I said, I went to a school founded by a shifter. My question is related, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been within inches of someone like you. I know some things about your kind, but not everything, of course.” She nibbled at her bottom lip warily and then continued, “If you heal really fast, how come you have all those bruises?”

He looked down at the table and frowned. He’d forgotten about the recent bruises on his arms and even a couple on his face. Like she’d said, they had healed for the most part, but the imperfections were still visible to anyone he let come close to him. He’d forgotten about his visible bruises because he was so anxious to see her again. He really hadn’t thought that they’d matter to her.

“I…” she said. “I’m sorry if I’m prying.”

He lifted his gaze. “You’re not.”

“Just so you know, you have nothing to worry about in the looks department. Your girlfriend is really lucky.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Well then…I bet you have admirers.”

“Most of these are from fighting,” he replied.

“Fights? As in, someone actually caused those?” She looked confused.

He chuckled. “Yes. MMA fighting. I did it for a living before transitioning into the security field.”

“I’ve never actually met someone who did that for a living. My ex—” She paused mid-sentence and then continued, “I’ve seen a few fights on television before.”

“Then you’ve seen how demanding and dangerous it can get. And just before we heal fast, doesn’t mean we don’t get bruises and scars.”

“But some are newer than others,” she said, looking at the fresh bruise right along his hairline.

Smart woman. She couldn’t or wouldn’t be fooled.

Just last night, he’d almost gotten the light knocked right out of him. His opponent had heavy fists and was a member of another wolf pack so he’d been feigning to knock Jacques off his feet. It had been one of the most difficult fights in a long time for him. But Jacques’s stamina had won out and the wad of cash in his wallet was proof enough that it was worth it.

But how could he tell this woman that and not scare her off?

“I still fight occasionally,” he said, hoping that would suffice.

“Of course. Maybe I’ll come see you fight one day,” she said, innocently.

If she only knew.

Her silent request gave him pause, allowing him enough time to examine the possibility of bringing someone so innocent into his world. She definitely had no place in his underground fighting world, but he felt she had a place with him. Just sitting with her now acted as a distraction to all the other problems he had brewing on the back burner. Could she exist in his world without concerning herself with his old baggage? His wolf screamed yes. But deep down inside, the human part of him held onto the notion that even if Natasha and he were connected somehow that he couldn’t bind her to his wayward destiny. The destiny of a former Omega wolf who barely had the support of his Pack.

“The fighting arenas are no place for a woman like you,” he stated.

“Why? Don’t think I can handle seeing the violence?”

“It’s not that.” He shrugged. “That’s not the person I want you to know. I’m not exactly perfect. Or the best role model for anyone. I fight because the money is quick and easy. Before I could get a legitimate first job, fighting was all I did. Now I know better, but I do what I’ve gotta do.”

“It’s only a sport,” she replied. “And it doesn’t make you a bad person. You haven’t allowed it to or you wouldn’t be sitting in this cafeteria with me right now.”

She was so innocent, but she saw the good in him and that made all the difference. He didn’t think about his burdens now that he was here with her because all he could do was think about appeasing her.

“When I started I was only thirteen. I did it as an outlet to release some anger and some stress. I found temporary gratification from knocking a man out cold with my fists. Is that not bad? To want to inflict as much pain as you’re feeling inside?”

She visibly swallowed and he heard her breathing become uneven.

“It’s better than holding it in,” she said. “And what about now? Do you find pleasure in the pain of others?”

“No. I do what I was trained to do to outlast my opponent. I win. I collect my money.”

“What made you return to fighting?”

“My grandmother died. She left some bills that need taking care of. I’d rather pay them sooner than later.”

“You’re a good man then.”

Jacques wished that was true. He looked down at the table.

She shifted the conversation away from his fights. It was as if she knew that he was uncomfortable talking about it, and for that he was grateful.

Her voice was enticing and soothing to his soul. Her laughter was like a melody. Her scent was like Heaven. If he could see and listen to her every day, he knew he’d win the hardest fight of all, which was getting through one the most difficult phases of his life: Loss.