Seeing Jordan again shattered his hard heart all over again. Nolan forced himself to walk away slowly, fighting old emotions. Once outside, he dashed down the hills to the forest, avoiding the path leading to the grapevines.

He leaned against a tree and dragged in deep breaths.

Gods, that was tough. Almost as tough as the day he’d buried his father.

All the joy and misery rolled into one great ball in the center of his chest. Little wild Jordan, the cute Lupine who had turned into a sultry, tempting teen. His best friend who turned him upside down.

The woman who’d broken his heart and came back into his life so he could be the gallant wolf and save her cute lil ass.

And burn his biscuits, it was the cutest, plumpest ass, the kind a male could grip and squeeze tight as he dove in for a long kiss and an even longer bout of lovemaking.

Nolan bent over, bracing his hands on his knees. His breath came out in a long whistling rush.

“Damn,” he muttered, breaking his own rule about swearing. No one around to hear him, but still, rules were rules.

Without them, pack fell apart. And now he took one of the fiercest rule-breaking Lupines as a mate. The wild wolf who captured his heart when she was barely a cub, and now became a fine-looking female.

Jordan was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. With her clear blue eyes, carnation pink mouth, clear, pale skin contrasting with the rich, deep redness of her hair and brows, she carried the mark of her ancient Celtic ancestors.

Other women, both Skin and Lupine, wore cosmetics to enhance their looks. Jordan needed no makeup. Neither did she style her long, red hair. It lay in waves against her shoulders, tumbling down her back in a rippling waterfall.

With that mass of red curling hair, those cornflower blue eyes that could turn sweet one minute and flash with passion the next, Jordan was a heartbreaker.

Broke my heart. He rubbed his hands against his jeans, and gave a bitter laugh.

He’d never forget the day she’d left. Spent all day searching for her, and then caught her scent at the driveway’s end. Jordan had been carrying a bag, and she didn’t stop when he called her name.

She’d only stopped when he drove the truck onto the road and blocked her way. Then she’d glared at him and told him she’d left a note in his room.

“Get out of my way, Nolan. I don’t love you and never will. I just fucked you to see what it was like to fuck an alpha’s son.”

As he’d stood there in shock, she’d run off into the woods and disappeared. And then that note…

More hurtful words.

Nolan took a deep breath.

Minutes later, he headed for the vineyard. Several pack members worked trimming the vines, plucking ripe grapes. Most of the grapes grown here were sweet muscadine. Nolan squatted down, sifted soil through his hands. Soil needed more lime, but they’d had a good summer with plenty of rain to make the grapes grow fat and juicy.

He loved it here among the vines, the vineyard that had been in his family for three generations. Tradition.

Home.

Once it was Jordan’s home as well, and everything she learned about grapes, making wine and selling it he had taught her.

He’d taught her so much, that red-headed sprite with the gurgling laugh and the stubborn line between her brows.

Taught her all about sex as well.

Memories of Jordan flicked through his mind like a movie. Jordan laughing as she darted between the neat rows of vines. Feeding an older Jordan grapes fresh off the vine, her sweet mouth parting as he slid the fruit between them, each succulent bite arousing a different kind of hunger in him…

Sliding between her pale, trembling thighs as he thrust inside and became her first lover, claiming her in the flesh.

And then she’d vanished from his life.

Touching a vine, he stroked the leaves, recalling the softness of Jordan’s skin beneath his eager, exploring fingertips. Her delicate shudders as he caressed and kissed her, exploring her body as they lay in the hayloft.

Her cries of pleasure echoing his groans of satisfaction.

Nolan withdrew his hand, squeezed his fists. Six years was a long time ago.

He should check the latest shipment from the local farmers. After his father died, Nolan arranged to expand the winery by supporting farmers and buying their stock of grapes.

It was the best way he knew to encourage working the land instead of selling off precious local farms for development.

The winery was running at full capacity this summer, with Skin tourists eager to taste and buy. The special vintage his pack made for the Fae who infused the grapes with magick was their first priority, with several cases set aside for his magick partners.

Too distracted to work, he headed for the pathway leading down to the ponds and the barn. Gravel crunched beneath his boots.

An itch began between his shoulder blades. He needed to release it, let his wolf run. Nolan halted, closed his eyes and called upon his magick.

The shift came swiftly, as it always did, only this time was bittersweet. Clothing and skin magically vanished, bones and muscle and sinew lengthening. He remembered Jordan’s first change into wolf, and her panic, how he’d coaxed her from it by shifting along with her.

They had run down into the woods, wild and free and happy.

Exhilaration filled him at the scent of pine and brush, his senses sharper and clearer as wolf. Wolf instinct drove him now, edging out the human who wanted to sort through all those tangled emotions Jordan aroused.

Wolf knew only one thing – she was home.

He raced on four paws, choosing the woods to cut through instead of the path carved out for walking in human skin or driving the four-wheeler.

At the red barn near the horse stables, he shifted back into Skin and waved a hand, clothing himself by magick. Nolan climbed the stairs to the loft, where his great-grandmother’s trunk sat, along with a few other antiques no one bothered with.

With a groan and a creak, the trunk lid lifted. Nolan dug past the letters, photos and vintage hats, and brought out the music box. Pink roses and pink ribbons adorned the pedestal holding a ballerina en pointe.

With a trembling hand, he turned the key. The ballerina twirled, her ceramic smile frozen in time. The sweet, tinkling of Swan Lake floated through the air.

Throat tight, he touched the ballerina. “Red hair,” he mused aloud. “Like sunset.”

“More like fire on water. That’s what you used to call it.”

At the whisper, he turned. Nolan’s heart hardened as he set down the treasure. Don’t let her get under your skin.

“I told you Erica and Shirl would take care of you.” His voice came out gruffer than he intended. But she only shrugged.

“I found the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. No need to have anyone wait on me.”

The old Jordan had been like that, thoughtful and considerate, not a prima donna expecting others to wait on her.

Expression wistful, Jordan touched the ballerina. “You gave me this to celebrate my first shift. I was upset because I always longed to be a ballerina, so you found this and said it was to remember my wolf, but in my heart, to never lose sight of my human dreams.”

For a moment silence fell between them.

“Balance,” he agreed, his chest hollow. “Our lives are all about balancing the wolf with the human.”

Jordan’s lower lip trembled. “More like riding a roller coaster at times. Some days it felt like going 100 miles an hour without a seat belt. All alone.”

“That’s what pack is for,” he reminded her. “To keep us centered. Remember what my father used to say?”

Her rosebud mouth curved into a slight smile. “Don’t let your fur get ruffled when some cretin gets under your Skin.”

They laughed, and all his cares dropped. It felt so good to laugh with her again, share a private moment.

“I haven’t had a pack in a long time,” she said softly. “I’ve missed it.”

For a moment, he wanted to draw her close, the way he used to when she got scared, lonely or sad. Offer her the comfort of his embrace, the simple touch all Lupines craved. “This was your home. It always will be.”

And then amber flickered in her blue eyes, the rising of her wolf. “Sometimes, it’s better to be alone than with pack.”

Damn and hell. She’d made him swear again, silently. Nolan let his own wolf rise, locking his gaze to hers, letting her know exactly who she dealt with this time. Not going to let himself get fooled by a pretty face, sweet smile and sad eyes.

Not again.

Jordan dropped her gaze briefly, showing submission. So why didn’t he feel satisfied instead of empty?

She was a wild wolf, a lone wolf, and lone wolves were dangerous.

“You made that choice when you left.” Nolan plucked the ballerina away from her grasp and set it back into the trunk. “You rejected our ways. Got news for you, Jordan. The old ways and the rules still apply here. My father is no longer alpha, but I keep the old traditions.”

Blue eyes narrowed. “You told me you have chores. Why are you here, sorting through this trunk? Is that a tradition as well? Busy work for the alpha?”

Nolan growled deep in his throat.

“My business is my business.” He clasped her chin between thumb and forefinger, centering his gaze on her. “Got it?”

To her credit, she didn’t even blink. Most females in his pack would tremble in fear or drop their gaze. She did neither.

“Your father used to have another saying,” she observed. “The ‘A’ in alpha sometimes stands for ass.”

Nolan stroked his thumb across her velvet-like skin, enjoying the texture. His mouth twitched upward in a smile. “I remember. You saying I’m living up to his legacy?”

“Listen here, Mitchell. If you want a quivering, meek female for a mate, better let me know now because it’ll never work out.”

“If I wanted a meek and submissive mate, I’d never have chosen you, pixie,” he said in a husky voice.

Jordan stared at him as if he’d dropped his drawers and showed his male assets. He’d be doing that soon enough tonight.

She was so pretty, her pouty lips parted breathlessly, her spark for life never extinguished.

The hunger, always biting him, gnawed at his insides. Hunger for Jordan, for mating, for bonding with her in the flesh.

Sex was good. Engaging his dick was expected.

Engaging his heart and falling for her all over again.

Forget it.

“Back to the house. Go get settled,” he told her, dropping his hand.

Jordan’s mouth lifted in a faint smile. “You’re still there inside, Nolan. The real you. I’m glad.”

He scowled. “Go on now, git.”

Scrambling to her feet, she dashed to the ladder. Then Jordan turned and blew him a kiss.

For a long time he sat in the dust, the sweet smell of hay tickling his nose.

Nolan wondered what he’d agreed to – mating this sassy female for life. She could either turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

Or the worst.