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Wolf-Bond

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  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
  
  
  
  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
  
  
  
  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  Wolf-Bond
  
  Copyright No 2013 by Mina Carter
  
  ISBN: 978-1-61333-559-8
  
  Cover art by Mina Carter
  
  
  
  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
  
  
  
  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
  
  Look for us online at:
  
  www.decadentpublishing.com
  
  
  
  
  
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  Also by Mina Carter
  
  
  
  Melody’s Wolf
  
  
  
  
  
  Wolf-Bond
  
  
  
  A 1Night Stand Story
  
  
  
  By
  
  Mina Carter
  
  
  
  
  
  ~Dedication~
  
  
  
  To friends, old and new. Thank you.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  As it turned out, werewolves were just like anyone else, Barrett Simmons mused, nursing his beer and watching the interaction around him. The green room of the Lyric Hounds, the most famous werewolf rock band in the world, was full to bursting…starlets and fans mixing with seasoned industry professionals and the guys, the Hounds themselves, right there in the thick of it.
  
  He sat back and surveyed proceedings with an experienced eye. Although dressed in a sharp suit with his hair and beard neatly clipped, he hadn’t come to party. Far from it. Since his sister, Melody, the diminutive figure dressed in black satin chatting to one of the guests on the other side of the room, had married the Hounds lead singer, Aaron Rixx, almost a year earlier, Barrett had been responsible for the band’s security detail.
  
  A veteran with more tours than he wanted to remember behind him, he was more than suitable for the role. Sure, he might be human and no match for a werewolf in terms of speed and strength, but he’d yet to meet any creature that could outrun a bullet. He had no arrogance when it came to his abilities. A member of Special Forces, it had only been injury and the loss of most of his detail in a mission fucked up by bad intelligence that had forced his retirement. The mission when he’d lost Sax—
  
  He rolled his shoulder to make it click, easing the stiffness there. As his mood took a nosedive, he forced thoughts of something else. Anything else. All in all, despite what had happened, he wasn’t in bad shape physically. Since getting out of therapy, he’d hit the gym every day until he’d ended up in the best condition of his life. Muscle-wise anyway. His left knee and shoulder were fucked, but not so much he couldn’t put down any threat in the room. He and the Glock nestled next to his ribcage.
  
  A waft of air behind him warned Barrett a moment before he got company. Sav, the band’s drummer, half flopped, half fell into the seat opposite, his beer bottle crashing into the table top with so much force Barrett expected it to shatter.
  
  “She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Sav slurred, waving his free hand.
  
  Barrett arched his eyebrow and glanced around in the vain hope of identifying the particular ‘she’ Sav meant. Since that wave seemed to encompass the entire room though, with numerous candidates, he was shit out of luck. Taking a swallow from his own bottle, he shook his head at the other man.
  
  “I give up, which one are you talking about?” Because he knew the guy, he cut him some slack and kept the irritation out of his voice. Sav had issues. Some problem or edge the tall werewolf hadn’t worked through yet, which resulted in mood swings and an acerbic nature that pissed Barrett the hell off at times. At others though, when Sav thought no one was watching, Barrett caught the utter loneliness in his eyes. The longing.
  
  He hadn’t a clue why. The guy was famous and, as the Hounds’ only gay member, had men throwing themselves at him. Some handsome enough that even Barrett might have been tempted had he been that way inclined. What the fuck did Sav have to be lonely about?
  
  But that expression…the loneliness and longing for something…that Barrett knew well. He saw it in the mirror each morning. The thought softened his manner. Whatever Sav was looking for, he hoped he found it. Soon. Before they had to have a ‘chat.’
  
  “Tempest!” The half-drunk werewolf exclaimed, sweeping his arm around to indicate the band’s bass player and only female member, and almost knocking out a waitress at the same time. “Oh fuck, sorry, man…you okay?”
  
  Barrett flicked a glance over to the woman in question as Sav picked the young girl up and set her right with her tray. Pity it hadn’t been one of the very handsome male waiters circling the room. At least then Sav would have been distracted enough that Barrett could make his escape before the drummer could carry on with his line of questioning.
  
  It wasn’t that Tempest wasn’t attractive. Totally the opposite. The woman could only be described as gorgeous. Tall and slender, with waist-length black hair, she no doubt had a starring role in the wet dreams of most of the male population. Add to that, the allure of a female werewolf, and most men would have been on their knees in love with her.
  
  But he wasn’t most men and he had no heart to lose to Tempest. He’d lost his heart on blood-soaked sands, to a petite, feisty soldier with a man’s name, but a woman’s curves. Memories of Saxon burst free from the box he’d tried to lock them into. The tumble of blonde curls around her neck, her green eyes alight with love and laughter as she teased him. She’d always been teasing him for being too uptight and by the book. And he had been, insisting on procedure. And procedure, reliance on the protocols of the system, had sent them out into the field with bad intel and gotten the woman he loved killed.
  
  With a gasp, he hauled himself back to the present before memory could fill in all the details of that day. The heat that licked his skin faded away, the hot smell of sand and blood receding from his nostrils. Only a memory. Not real. Not there.
  
  “I knew you thought so as well.” Sav’s deep voice broke through Barrett’s semi-trance and he blinked, realizing that he was still staring at the female werewolf like a vision sent down from heaven itself. And she’d seen him, giving him a glance back like he’d sprouted two heads.
  
  Quickly, he averted his gaze. He’d been told all about female werewolves and their take-charge attitude when they wanted something. Trouble was, half the stories he’d heard made him want to turn whatever moody little madam over his knee and give her a good paddling, then tell her to damn well behave. He sighed. I’m too old for this shit.
  
  “No, man. You’ve got it all wrong,” he said, watching the grin spread over the Sav’s face with dawning horror. Christ, they didn’t really think he had the hots for Tempest. Did they?
  
  But Sav wasn’t listening. Instead he looped his arm over Barrett’s shoulders; no mean feat given Barr stood half a head taller than the somewhat stocky werewolf. “Now, what you got to remember with female wolves is that they like to think they’re in charge. But you have to dominate them. Show them who’s boss.”
  
  He slid Sav a sideways glance. “If the words ‘mount’ or ‘dry hump’ are heading for your lips then I’m taking you out the back and dumping you in the water butt.”
  
  Sav snorted. “In your dreams, human.”
  
  “Trent Savage!” Melody’s voice cut through their stand-off. “Behave yourself or I’ll have you waxed and plucked the next time you fall asleep!”
  
  Sav’s eyebrows winged up toward his hairline as he stared the petite woman down. Barrett stood with his arms folded and watched with amusement. The inevitable outcome wouldn’t be pretty. Melody might be human, or wolf-mated as the furry community preferred to call it, but she was female and therefore any man, human or not, took his life into his own hands if he messed with her. Besides, he knew his sister. She was more than capable of waiting until Sav had gotten himself dead drunk, then had every hair on his body dyed pink or something.
  
  “Huh,” Sav grumbled, unhooking his arm from around Barrett’s shoulders and grabbing a fresh bottle from a circling waiter. “Only trying to give him some advice so Temp doesn’t tear him a new one. My bad.” Lifting the bottle to his lips, he took a long swallow and walked off, his gaze already scanning the crowd for likely prey.
  
  Melody bit her lip, concern for the guy written plainly on her features. Barrett smiled to himself, the soft, squishy feeling he got when dealing with his sister filling his chest. Yeah, she was short and bossy, but she cared and that made all the difference. She didn’t do anything without a reason and most of the time she put herself out for others far more than she needed to. Including him, something he had never been more grateful for than when he’d flown home from Afghanistan, alone and injured.
  
  “He’s a big boy, Mel. Whatever problems he’s got, he’ll get through them,” he reassured, lifting an arm to wrap around her shoulders and giving her a quick squeeze.
  
  “Yeah, I know. But….” She sighed. “You know what I’m like. Mother hen syndrome.”
  
  He chuckled and dropped a quick kiss on her hair, about the only guy in the room who could do so without Aaron tearing him a new one. Even now, the tall rock star scanned the room, his expression tight until he saw his wife tucked into Barrett’s side. He relaxed and offered a smile before going back to his conversation. Like Barrett was the one person in the room he trusted with Melody’s safety.
  
  “Perhaps you guys should have a couple of kids, put that mother-henning to good use.”
  
  The comment was light, meant as a joke, but she stiffened, color flowing over her cheeks. Suspicion creased his brow. “Mel? Are you…?”
  
  “Shhhh!” She hissed, as though they were discussing state secrets and she didn’t want to be overheard. “We were going to tell everyone next week. After this leg is done.”
  
  Pleasure flowed through him, both for the parents to be and the fact he was going to be an uncle. “Congratulations!”
  
  He pulled her tighter in a bear hug for a moment, emotion overflowing, then remembered her condition and set her down like he would bone china. “Are you okay, do you need to sit down? Perhaps some water?”
  
  “Barr!” She slapped his shoulder. “I’m fine, honestly. I’m not ill, just…well, you know. Besides, I want to talk to you about something else.”
  
  He lifted an eyebrow in question. What could be more important that his imminent uncle-hood?
  
  Melody reached into the clutch bag and withdrew a slender, cream linen envelope. He froze.
  
  “I really hope that’s not what I think it is.”
  
  She lifted her chin in determination and held it out to him. “Chance meetings, remember? You told me that.”
  
  Chance meetings. Ever since childhood that’s what they’d called the good things that happened to them. Their parents’ chance meeting had led to the sort of true love talked about in fairy tales, yet never excluded the children they’d had. Melody’s chance meeting had led to the love of her life…Aaron.
  
  Slowly, he took it from her.
  
  “Chance meetings,” he said in a low voice, and tucked it into his jacket pocket to please her.
  
  It wouldn’t matter. No exclusive one-night stand service would be able to provide what he needed. Would be able to provide his chance meeting.
  
  Because he’d already met her.
  
  And lost her.
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  “Huh!”
  
  Saxon jerked awake, heart pounding, body slick with sweat from the nightmare that haunted her sleep. The sheets tangled with her bare legs as she clutched them, shuddering in relief to see her bedroom around her instead of hot sands splattered with blood. Dropping her head, she took deep breaths, bringing her heart rate back down to something approaching normal.
  
  The door clicked open to reveal a familiar figure. Swathed in a dressing gown, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her mother looked in. Sax picked up the concern in her eyes with ease despite the blackness in the room. Wolves had perfect night vision. Nocturnal predators.
  
  “The dream again, sweetie?”
  
  “Uh-huh.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Same old, same old.”
  
  Since the accident that had stolen her memory almost two years earlier, she’d been having nightmares. Or, more specifically, the same nightmare over and over. Strangely though, it had nothing to do with the crash that nearly killed her. Had killed her in fact. She’d died on the operating table three times, but twice the trauma team had managed to bring her back.
  
  The third time, it hadn’t been the skill of the doctors that saved her. Instead the latent lycanthrope blood she’d inherited from her father kicked in and transformed her from a ‘potential’ into full-blown wolf. One of the few full-on female wolves in their pack.
  
  Her mother moved into the room, coming to sit on the bed next to her. Gently she drew Sax into her arms, holding her as though she were still a child and all hurts could be eased with a cuddle and a mother’s love. Sax leaned her forehead on her shoulder and let out a sigh. If only it were that easy.
  
  The accident had lasting effects, other than her transformation. She’d lost her memory of the last seven or so years. The last thing she remembered was thinking about going in the army, then…nothing. Her parents told her she’d tanked the entrance assessments, which had surprised her considering how fit she’d been, still appeared to be, but they had no reason to lie to her.
  
  Since then she’d worked in her parent’s hardware store, a job she’d gone back to after the accident, even if it didn’t seem ‘right’. She’d never told them that, the same as never admitting the nightmare wasn’t about the accident, when a semi had plowed into the side of the car she’d been traveling in, killing her two best friends and leaving Sax clinging to life by a thread.
  
  But instead of visions of trucks bearing down on her, and the scream of metal as the car broke apart, her nightmares were about soldiers and explosions. About being caught in a fire fight and running out of ammunition, bullets flying by her head as she tried to take cover. About blood and body parts on the sand, and a guy. Well, lots of guys, but one stood out. With piercing blue eyes and dark hair, he had to be the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Dressed in combat clothing, and carrying a rifle, he yelled orders despite the chaos going on around him. Even in the dream she was drawn to him, couldn’t stop watching him. Even when the dream began to break up, blood and fire consuming her as it always did, she saw his face, contorted in pain as though he watched everything that mattered to him disappear.
  
  Drawing a shaky breath, she put the image of her dream guy’s face from her mind. She had no clue who he was, or what sparked the strange dream. Just her luck that the one guy she found attractive was not only human, but a frigging dream to boot.
  
  “It’ll pass,” her mother murmured, voice soft as she rubbed Sax’s arm. “I promise. Time heals all wounds, even the ones we can’t see. You going to be okay now? You need some rest for tomorro—hmm.”
  
  “Tomorrow?” she asked. “Why…what’s happening tomorrow?”
  
  She leaned back. Her mom’s face had gone beet red,
  
  “Your father invited Robert to lunch tomorrow.” Despite her soft voice, worry seeped from her mom’s pores. “It’ll be good for you, love, to get to know him a bit. You have a—”
  
  She held up her hand. She’d had this lecture lord knew how many times. “I know, I know. I have a responsibility to the pack. Yadda yadda. Tell me something I don’t know.”
  
  “Please be nice. For me?” her mother begged. “We’re a small pack and the Culsons are much more powerful. A link would benefit us all…you know it would.”
  
  “I know, Mom.” She sighed and nodded. No way out if it. Even if she did think Robert was a jumped-up mommy’s boy convinced of his own self-importance, she still had to play the game. Toe the line. Make nice. Shit. “I’ll be good, promise.”
  
  She beamed and dropped a kiss on Sax’s temple. “Thank you, sweetie. Now, you get some sleep. Night night.”
  
  “Sure. Night, Mom.”
  
  She flopped back on the bed, watched her close the door behind her, then waited for the footsteps along the landing. As soon as her parents’ door clicked shut, she slid out of bed and pushed the power button for her laptop. She might have to play nice for Robert the next day, but that didn’t mean she had to be a total angel.
  
  The screen flicked on and she opened a browser, searching for the link she’d saved earlier. Some one-night stand service….
  
  “Madame Eve,” she muttered, inputting her requirements, describing the guy from her dream. “I really hope you’re as good as they say you are. Because this is going to take a miracle.”
  
  Then she hit submit.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  He shouldn’t be there.
  
  Guilt beat at Barrett as he stared out over the twinkling lights of the city below him without seeing them. To his left in the corner of the balcony, a dinner table was set for two, both seats currently unoccupied. Silverware sparkled in the soft candlelight and a breeze rustled the white linen tablecloth, carrying the scent of the roses in the centerpiece across the balcony to him. Soft music played in the background, something classical with pianos and violins, totally different to the heavy rock music he’d listened to for the last year.
  
  All in all, a scene set for romance and seduction. The perfect location for the one-night stand his meddling little sister had arranged for him. A wry snort of amusement escaped him. Since he’d started this by setting her up, turnabout was fair play.
  
  But he really shouldn’t be there.
  
  He turned, leaning back against the railing to glance inside. Lifting his glass, he knocked back the couple of inches of whiskey left, hissing when it burned all the way down to his gut. He had to admit, when it came to luxury, Madame Eve didn’t pull her punches. He’d been given a plush suite in one of the best hotels in town. With the name Castillo over the door, it would be. Even Barrett, who’d never given two hoots about five-star luxury and penthouses, found himself impressed by the Castillo hotels. Although he never thought he’d end up in one waiting for a woman to show up for a one-night stand.
  
  What the fuck am I doing?
  
  A frustrated growl escaped him as he shoved a hand through his short hair. It had grown out from the buzz cut he’d been keeping it in since leaving the army, and curled around his fingers like a jealous lover. He stopped and grimaced. He had orders from Mel to ‘look nice or else’ and mussed hair was so not going to cut it. At least he’d made an effort and shaved his beard off. Every time a cool breeze hit his face, it felt weird, as though he were naked. But not as weird as the prospect of talking to…having sex with….
  
  He swore, blunt soldier’s curses falling from his lips.
  
  He shouldn’t be there. It’s too soon after Saxon.
  
  Guilt and shame warred within him. The docs insisted he should be getting over the worst of the grief by now. That he needed to move on, not forgetting the love he’d had for Sax, but savor it as a fond memory instead. Fond memory, his ass. It still felt like his heart had been ripped clean from his chest, the raw edges mangled and bloody. Agitation rose to fill him with energy and he pushed off from the balcony rail to stride into the room.
  
  Dropping the empty glass on the table, he grabbed his phone. It was no good, he couldn’t do it. He’d ring Madame Eve…oh shit, no. He couldn’t. All contact via e-mail. He should have remembered that from when he set Mel up with her one-night stand. Hand shaking, he swiped at the screen on his phone. If he could get an email off to Madame Eve, perhaps his date could be contacted before she arriv—
  
  Knock knock.
  
  He froze at the soft sound, index finger poised over the screen. Shit, she’s here. He glared at the door as though it were a creature from a nightmare. Fuck, what should he do? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and opened them again.
  
  Okay. It didn’t matter who the woman on other side of the door turned out to be. It made no difference if she was a walking wet-dream, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want a tall, leggy supermodel or the ultimate fantasy, he wanted small, curvy and sassy. He wanted Sax and always would.
  
  Putting the phone back on the table, he strode across the room, his decision made. He’d let the poor girl in, explain the situation, then leave. She could have the room for the night and he’d reimburse Madame Eve whatever costs were necessary so his date wouldn’t be out of pocket. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. She expected a night of romance and…. He cut the rest of the thought off. Not her fault he couldn’t go through with it.
  
  Approaching the door, he paused for a second in front of it, hand flat on the smooth, cool wood. His heart ached, throbbing as a pang of longing filled him. He’d heard stories of Madame Eve’s abilities, whispered rumors of more-than-human abilities spanning time and space that she brought to bear to create a perfect match. Why couldn’t…. He sighed. Time and space, but not death itself, and the last time he checked, the Grim Reaper didn’t run a matchmaking service.
  
  He reached for the door handle.
  
  Time to face the music.
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  Oh my god, she’d actually gone and done it. She was really here.
  
  Sax dropped her hand from the door and straightened her dress. Her heart hammered, anticipation and nerves sending the organ in to overdrive to match the butterflies racing each other around her stomach. Who knew it could be both so easy and so frigging difficult to sort out a one-night stand?
  
  The service—and Madame Eve—had been fantastic, and arranging it all through email rather than over the phone made things so much easier. Since her email was locked down six ways to Sunday, and had been since she’d caught her father snooping around her laptop six months ago, she’d been able to sort things out without her parents knowing. They were so intent on her ‘getting to know Robert’ and uniting the packs through their mating, she’d been surprised her family hadn’t stripped the pair of them naked and locked them together in a room overnight already.
  
  “Gah!” She shuddered, a wave of rejection clomping down her spine in hobnail boots. Robert wasn’t unattractive. He was attractive, in that cookie-cutter, jock sort of way. She didn’t want cookie-cutter, or the jock type. She wanted lean and mean, a soldier-type with short hair, scars…. She closed her eyes for a second and shivered as the face of her dream-guy filled her mind.
  
  She wanted blue eyes, and human, not a wolf. Not Robert. And when she got back home, she would tell her parents as much. Yeah, she knew the issues with the packs, but it wasn’t the frigging dark ages for heaven’s sake. Women, even wolf-women, were not bartered in marriage anymore.
  
  Where the hell was this guy?
  
  She frowned and studied the still-closed door. Reception said her date had already arrived and told her to come right on up. Opening the slip of paper in her hand, she checked the room number, glancing up and down the corridor to check the adjacent numbers. On the top floor of the small, but luxurious little hotel there weren’t many. Yeah, right room. So what gave?
  
  Nerves hit her again. In the excitement of arranging the date, she hadn’t thought much about the guy she’d be meeting. Giving a description, she asked for a human male rather than a werewolf or anything weird and wonderful. One of the testimonials she’d come across had mentioned things like angels. That couldn’t be true though…probably some chick making shit up.
  
  What would he be like? Would he be handsome…kind? Honest? Did she care, for one night? She only had to find him attractive… after all, they were going to be— She bit her lip, a flush of heat burning her cheeks at the idea of sex with someone she’d just met. Again, the guy from her dream flitted across her mind’s eye. In her nightmare they hadn’t touched, nor had he kissed her. In fact, the whole thing was as far from romantic as a dream could get. So why did she have such a yearning ache to know what his kisses would be like?
  
  She sensed movement on the other side of the door, the warm scent of skin and cologne warning her he stood behind it. Human for sure, no way to mistake that scent. She smiled and straightened. Okay, things were looking up. If she were lucky, he’d be everything she’d put down in Madame Eve’s form and more.
  
  The door swung open to reveal a broad-shouldered, tall figure. Oh, lordy, he was built like something from a dream. He wore Italian leather shoes, and expensive pants that fit perfectly, loose in all the right places but clinging right where they needed to, like over powerful thigh muscles and lean hips. A blue shirt was tucked in, and the belt highlighted a trim waist and flat stomach. Her gaze found a broad chest and she almost whimpered when his hand on the door frame pulled the shirt tighter across pecs hard enough to make her drool. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his face and they widened. His features…the blue eyes, dark hair.
  
  The guy from her dream.
  
  Whatever Sax had expected in her date, it hadn’t been that—for her dream guy to be made flesh and blood and presented to her. She also hadn’t expected him to pale like he’d seen a ghost. Without warning, his eyes fluttered closed and he went down like a felled tree. With a squeak, she was a couple of seconds behind, but couldn’t stop him from hitting the deck. Luckily, the thick carpet cushioned his large body as he sprawled on the floor.
  
  “Shit….” She hopped over his prone form and dropped to her knees next to him. “Hey, are you okay?”
  
  She shook him, unable to tear her gaze from his face. Questions buzzed through her mind. How had Madame Eve found him? Why the hell had she been dreaming about him for years? Who was he?
  
  The shoulder under her hand was solid, packed with muscle. His head rocked a little under the shaking motion. He groaned, turning his head to the side before opening his eyes. Clear, piercing blue. Like in her dream.
  
  She smiled. “Hey. Back with me?”
  
  He grimaced, blinking as if to clear his vision. “What happened? What hit me? I could’ve sworn I saw—” He trailed off as he focused on her, paling again.
  
  “Ohh, no you don’t, sweetheart. No more passing out,” she ordered, in her best ‘nanny’ voice. Or what she would have considered her best nanny voice after caring for her cousins’ kids on the occasional evening for the last couple of years, only now it sounded a hell of a lot like a drill sergeant’s bark. Why had she never noticed that before? “What the fuck is going on? Who are you?”
  
  
  
  Fuck, he’d fainted. Of all the dumb-ass, stupid fucking things to do. She could have been anyone, done anything to him whilst he was out. Knife to the throat, slid between the ribs…anything.
  
  He ignored the fact that she resembled his dead lover, even smelled like her, and the concerned expression on her lovely face as she leaned over him. Instead he exploded into action, driving up and over to trap her beneath him in a move so swift and powerful, any serving soldier would have been proud.
  
  He covered her and she squeaked, the tumble of blond curls surrounding her head like a halo on the dark carpet. She even had green eyes with that shot of amber on the right that he remembered so vividly.
  
  “Who am I?” he snarled, hauling her hands over her head, then pressing his body against hers. “Who the fuck are you?”
  
  She didn’t struggle, simply lay pliant in his hold, her eyes wide and shocked. “Me? I’m Sax—”
  
  “Don’t.” He spat the word, shaking her wrists. Rage and pain tore through him like the bad guy in a slasher movie, bent on carnage and destruction. “Don’t you dare say her name. I don’t care who you are, or how the hell you’re wearing her face, but so help me God, you’d better tell me what the fuck is going on before…before….”
  
  “Before what? You pin me down and assault me?” she shot back, anger flaring in her eyes at the same time amber leached into them from the center outward.
  
  Shit, she’s a werewolf.
  
  Which meant he had less than a few seconds before she shifted and tore into him. Literally.
  
  Fuck. Talk about coincidences. Sax had come from a werewolf family, but she hadn’t been a full wolf. He hadn’t understood it at the time, hadn’t needed to, but conversations with his new brother-in-law had filled him in on the differences between potentials and full wolves. Male children almost always became wolves as soon as they hit puberty, but women were different.
  
  Some, like Tempest, became wolves, but others, like Saxon, didn’t. Instead they remained human but with the werewolf DNA in their genes. Accounted for random werewolves cropping up in families that hadn’t had a full wolf in generations. All it took was something to flip the switch and a potential either turned, or had a full-wolf kid. Either way, the genes always expressed some way or the other.
  
  But incredibly, instead of shifting, she began to talk.
  
  “Listen, Mister… I don’t know who you are, or who ‘she’ is.”
  
  He eased his grip, the needle about assaulting her cutting through his anger somewhat, and he released her wrists with a muttered apology. He didn’t lift off her, instead he braced himself over her, his interest in what she said overruling his instinctive reaction to the soft curves under him.
  
  “I’m not wearing anyone’s face but my own. I’m Saxon Reeves.” She shook her head, amazement in her dual-colored eyes. “And how the hell did you get out of my dreams?”
  
  “Shit….” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, his brain struggling to catch up and process everything. Him, who’d cut his eyeteeth on rapid tactical decisions in battle. “You can’t be Saxon. Saxon…my Sax…is dead.”
  
  “Your Saxon?” She lay pliant under him, the amber ring of her wolf receding from her eyes. “What happened to her?”
  
  Barrett rolled away and stood, holding out a hand to help her up in an instinctive gesture. No need to forget his manners, even if he had been knocked for six at her appearance and her resemblance to Saxon. It could have been Sax in front of him, right down to the amber flare in her eye and that damned, crooked smile. In fact his body insisted it was Saxon, live and in the flesh, right there…close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss.
  
  “Err…she was killed.” Distracted, he ran a hand through his hair. Screw being neat. “There was an ambush, and I couldn’t get to her in time. She was shot.”
  
  “W-What? You were a soldier?” All the color leached out of her skin, her jaw going slack for a second. “Your Saxon was a soldier?”
  
  The expression in her eyes and the way she held her body made him pause. “Yeah. Damn good one as well. Why?”
  
  “Holy shit.”
  
  Unsteady on her feet, she wavered. In a heartbeat, he scooped her up before she hit the deck. She wouldn’t have gotten more than a bruise on her cute little butt, but that wasn’t the point. He reacted on instinct to protect her.
  
  “You okay?” He carried her over to one of the large couches set in front of the doors to the balcony.
  
  Unwilling to let her go, he sat with her in his lap. Holding her. Cradling her. She was small, delicate. Everything his Sax had been, but softer. Slender. Where his Sax had been a workout freak, toned and lean rather than curvy, the woman in his arms had a voluptuous figure and the male part of his brain broke down and drooled.
  
  “Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.” She shivered and nestled closer, feeding his male pride. “I…um...I have nightmares. One, I should say. One nightmare.”
  
  Holding her tight, he listened, in no rush to lay her on the couch next to him and put space between them, and she seemed content to let him. He closed his eyes to listen. It could be his Sax. Same voice and everything.
  
  “I was involved in a car accident.” In a halting voice, she spoke, and he imagined the frown on her face. Sax had done the same, speaking while she thought things through, putting them in the proper order. He’d loved her for it. It had been so cute.
  
  “Lost my memory. My family thinks the nightmares are because of that. They’re not.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “In them, I always die. In the dream I’m a soldier.”
  
  She pulled back. “And so are you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  He froze, the beautiful blue gaze she’d seen in her dreams so many times holding hers. She shivered at the intense focus on his face. What would it be like to be the focus of his attention in other ways? The lush, sinful curve of his lower lip, decadent even, didn’t detract one iota from his masculine appeal.
  
  “It’s nearly sunset,” he said, his voice strangled and rough. Tortured. “We’re in a town, broken-down buildings on either side of us. There’s dust and sand everywhere. Not the clean kind of sand either, the stuff that gets into everything, sticking to your skin and sweat like grease.”
  
  He described her dream, bringing all the details to vivid life and Saxon caught her breath.
  
  “You’re on point, I’m behind the rest of the squad. I’m worried about you, you twisted your ankle earlier in the week and you’ve been limping for the last hour of our patrol.” He cleared his throat, winced and carried on. “Tried to get you to slow down, but you wouldn’t have any of it. Told me to fuck off. But we’re almost done, so I’m not too bothered. Plan to make you get a shower and sleep for the next few days while we’ve got down time. Then it happens…insurgents have laid an ambush….”
  
  She kept her voice soft and picked up where he left off. “The wall to the left of me explodes. I duck and turn…the guy behind me is dead. Blood…red and bright…all over the sand. There are sharp sounds, bullets I think, and the next man jerks in this weird little dance. He’s been shot, falls into a crumpled heap. More sharp sounds and another wall explodes. I look down and there’s red. So much red.” She shuddered. “I turn and you’re screaming at me. Running….”
  
  “You were shot. I couldn’t get to you in time.” He closed his eyes, pain drawing lines in his face. “We lost two out there, but I got you back to base. You didn’t regain consciousness, died in theater. Two years ago, almost to the day.”
  
  His eyes snapped open. “So again, it begs the question—who the hell are you? Because you’re definitely not dead.”
  
  “Two years?” It couldn’t be…that was way too much of a coincidence. She cleared her throat, frowned. Her family could be assholes, but they wouldn’t do something like that. Would they? “The accident was two years ago next week. I don’t have any memories before that, I lost seven years…. Shit. I wanted to go into the army, but they told me I’d failed the entrance tests.”
  
  He flinched like he’d been shot, a low growl slipping from his lips so feral, half the males in her pack would be jealous of it. “Seven years? That was more than the term of your service. You’d been in six years, two in the same unit as me when you died....”
  
  She shook her head, the possibility that she and his Saxon were one and the same forcing a horrible suspicion to form about her family. They’d always been insistent that she mate a wolf. “Um…were we...?”
  
  “Lovers?” One of his eyebrows winged up. “Yes. From the day we met. As soon as I saw you, you were like a fire in my veins. I had to make you mine.”
  
  “You did,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from his lips. The awareness between them swelled and deepened. “You must have. Why else would I dream of you? I lost my memory, but my soul didn’t. It tried to tell me about you in my dreams.”
  
  She shifted in his lap, feeling safe and secure for the first time since the crash. He watched her, his attention absolute as she leaned forward to press her lips against his. They were firm, warm, and immobile under hers. Tension hummed through him, his muscles taut as though he held back. As though he couldn’t believe the surreal situation they’d found themselves in. She didn’t blame him, the story straight out of a fairy tale. Or a nightmare. Given the facts and dates, it very much seemed her family outright lied to her. But why?
  
  Brushing his lips one last time, she pulled back. “I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
  
  Shit. Perhaps he’d already moved on, if he’d thought his Saxon…she…was dead. Wait. Was tonight about that? Forgetting her? With her? Saxon’s head ached, her wolf rising possessively, wanting to reclaim him as theirs and snarling at the idea he might be searching for a new mate. Even though the woman he’d come to meet was her.
  
  “I don’t even remember your name.”
  
  He opened his eyes. “It’s Barrett. Barrett Simmons.”
  
  “Barrett.” She rolled the name on her tongue, trying it on for size. “That could shorten to Barr. Or B.”
  
  The smile that spread over his lips stole the breath from her lungs. It turned his rather harsh, almost cruel masculine features into something amazing. The smile opened his features, the blue of his eyes startling and direct, while the smile curving his lips managed to be both cheeky and hinting at sensuality. The heat in his eyes kicked her feminine reactions into gear, and shivers raced over her skin, wrapping around her spine to settle into a warm knot in the pit of her stomach.
  
  “You always called me that. B…even bought me a bumblebee soft toy,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “I still have it.”
  
  He didn’t lean forward to kiss her. Instead, he sat back, pulling her with him and toppling her against his broad chest. She squeaked, big mean she-wolf that she was, the sound lost as he kissed her, nowhere near as passive as before. Dominant and forceful, he claimed her lips like he had every right to, demanding her response. She yielded, let him delve within. A groan rolled from the back of his throat and he pulled her closer, thrust deeper to find her tongue with his and duel with it. Teasing her until she whimpered, almost overwhelmed.
  
  The touch of his lips, the stroke of his tongue... all new and at the same time as familiar as her own skin or the wolf that prowled within. She knew him. On an instinctive level, on a cell-deep level, she knew it. All her doubts disappearing, she relaxed into the kiss and started to tease him back, evaded him with quick flicks of her tongue, then a small nip of his lower lip when he growled at her.
  
  She broke away and gasped, receiving a small grin in response. “I thought I was the wolf here.” Her heart lurched. She didn’t remember him, only from the dreams and this new-found physical knowing. What had they shared? What had they talked about and laughed over? She’d missed all that, the loss like a physical blow.
  
  “Don’t think.” Evidently sensing her distress, he altered their position with ease on the couch. Her dress, a simple satin shift, slid over the leather with a soft rasp and he braced above her, tangling their legs. “Just feel.”
  
  Feel. That she could do.
  
  Saxon closed her eyes and gave herself up to the shivers that whispered over her skin and the heat blossoming through her veins. Let the whole situation, her lost memory, the puzzle of their previous connection, fall away to concentrate on him and him alone. He leaned down, his warmth surrounding and covering her, lips mere inches from hers, so close she felt the slight rasp of his stubble against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat and her wolf wallowed in the scents, new and yet so intimately familiar that rolled from his skin, his aftershave, hinting of sandalwood and citrus conjuring up the safety and security she associated with him even in the dream. Which explained her compulsion to buy a bottle of the stuff when she felt low, and the way her heart pounded whenever she scented a human guy wearing it, only to face an unexplainable sense of disappointment when she tracked the wearer down.
  
  Because it hadn’t been him. Hadn’t been Barrett.
  
  He closed the gap, caressing her lips gently with his. Softly. Compared to the feral nature of his previous kiss, the dainty, delicate touch stoked the fire within her like nothing else. With a moan she opened up. Needing more. Needing everything he could give her. She’d been out in the cold too long and only his warmth could bring her back to life.
  
  His breath caught in the back of his throat, then became a deep rumble of approval. One arm wrapped around and under her, crossing her shoulders to cup her nape. Holding her still, he tilted her head back and claimed her lips again, kissing her like his life depended on it, as though he couldn’t get enough of her. A deep, tongue-dueling invasion that turned to hot, open-mouthed kisses, fanning the flames running riot through her body.
  
  More shivers raced over her skin. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. It didn’t matter that he was human, and she a wolf. Didn’t make a difference she could snap him in two easily, he held her in thrall with his kisses. Moving over her, he slid a hard-muscled leg between hers, parting her thighs to settle between them.
  
  She welcomed his weight and rubbed her leg up the outside of his. The heel of her shoe caught in the fabric of his pants. Swearing between kisses, she unhooked it to throw it on the floor. His lips curved in amusement and the mood changed, became playful. She struggled to get rid of the other sandal, each wriggle pushing the hem of her dress higher. The fine fabric of his pants abraded her inner thighs gently, sending a shiver from her scalp down to her toes. Her wolf whimpered, the creature’s need to reclaim their mate a compulsion Saxon couldn’t ignore.
  
  Wouldn’t ignore.
  
  Finally yanking the other sandal free, she dropped it; it joined the other with a thud. Then she tangled her fingers in the front of his shirt. The buttons popped free easily, the tantalizing brushes of his chest on the back of her fingers almost driving her to distraction. She fumbled the third button with a curse and he smiled.
  
  “Tear it off,” he whispered, nudging her nose with his.
  
  Oh, hell yes. Her wolf was so on board with that idea. The most feral growl she’d ever uttered rose from the center of her chest. Dropping the button like a hotcake, she grabbed handfuls of fabric and yanked. Cloth ripped, shattering the silence of the room, punctuated by his deep gasp as acres of masculine skin were exposed for her pleasure. He growled as well, the sound becoming a rumble of approval when she ran her hands over his shoulders. Silky skin over steel muscles. Delightful. Sexy. Everything she’d dared to dream of in her guilty little fantasies about him.
  
  “Don’t stop, baby… I need you to touch me. It’s been so long—” He cut off his own sentence by claiming her lips again, the sheer hunger in his kiss shooting a spear of heat straight through her.
  
  He rolled his hips, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunching. He pressed harder, his cock a thick ridge in his pants that rubbed right where she needed him. A moan welled up and her pussy clenched, aching to be filled. A tremble rocked her, need dampening her panties. She was wet and ready for him. The reserve she’d shown around all other men disappeared as if it had never existed.
  
  “Gotta get you out of those clothes.” He punctuated his words with a trail of kisses across her shoulder. Hooking a finger under the strap of her dress, he slipped it down her shoulder, the rasp of his stubble along her skin dragging another shiver from her hypersensitive body. “Need to see you. Feel you again.”
  
  Her wolf aided and abetted him. Extending a claw, she sliced the other strap then ran it down the side of the dress. The sharp tip caught her skin, but in her need she didn’t care. A little bit of blood was nothing. He was everything.
  
  He stared as the fabric fell away a little to reveal her body beneath. She hadn’t bothered with a bra; only a tiny pair of panties that enhanced more than hid what lay beneath. He sucked in a breath as her curves were revealed. Sudden doubt assailed her. She’d been a soldier, hadn’t she? So she must have been fit, not slightly more…curvy as she was now, that last ten pounds taunting her when it wouldn’t come off. Instinctively, she tried to cover up.
  
  “No!” He snarled, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head with one of his. Leaning back, he flipped the ruined dress aside. His eyes darkened, heat in their blue depths while he gazed his fill.
  
  “I liked how you were before…” Her heart stuttered at his low words, heat beginning to spread across her cheeks. “But this…fuck me. You’re stunning.”
  
  He ran a big, callused hand up her hip and into the curve of her waist. The touch burned and she fought the urge to wriggle. An interplay of emotions skated across his face—need, feral and dark, warring with something else, something she couldn’t define.
  
  His big frame shook with tension. “I wanted to take this slow, but I can’t.” He flicked a glance up, held her gaze with his. His expression was tight, on the verge of tortured. “I dreamed of finding you again. How I’d take you slowly, make sure you knew you were loved. Make sure you knew how much I lov…how much you meant to me. Mean to me.”
  
  He paused, struggled for a second, then regained his composure and smiled. The simple expression stole her breath all over again, but the darkness lurking behind it...she shivered and her pussy clenched again. Trailing a finger under the thin strap of her panties, he said, “But all I can think about is tearing these off and taking you, hard and fast. Right here.”
  
  Oh Lord, he really would be the death of her. Eyes wide and not able to do a damn thing about it, she nodded. “Then do it.”
  
  Surprise swamped his features, his hand stilling. “Are you sure?”
  
  “Absolutely.” Hooking her leg around his, she brought him closer. His hips pressed against hers again, and her eyes rolled back in her head. “I’ve been dreaming of you for years. Give me better dreams than blood and death. Please?”
  
  Without a word, he held her gaze, winding the thin strap of her panties around strong fingers. Tension built with each brush of his fingers. When she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pulled.
  
  Her gasp covered the twang of the snapping elastic and he pulled the ruined fabric free, the other side giving without a fight, to leave her naked beneath him. With his big hand rough on her thigh, he pushed her legs apart. Her whimper broke free as he stroked higher, tracing his fingertips over the crease between leg and body. Parting her pussy lips with a gentle stroke, he groaned and bowed his head to the slick wetness.
  
  “God, baby.” He alternated long strokes of his fingers with quick flicks of his tongue over her clit. “You’ll be the death of me.”
  
  Death of him? He’d be the death of her.
  
  Arousal and anticipation slammed through her with the force of a freight train, driving her mercilessly higher. If she harbored any doubts they’d known each other, done this before, the doubts were swept away. He knew how to touch her, how to work her body; bring her to the brink within minutes. Quicker even than she could herself, in her lonely bed with battery-operated friends.
  
  “That’s it, moan for me,” he urged, dipping his fingers into her pussy again. The semi-penetration, the hint of more, had her panting and arching her hips, desperate. Desperate to be filled by him. “Let me hear my name on your pretty lips again.”
  
  Her reply was cut off when he slid two, thick fingers into her. Curling them back, he sought the sweet spot behind her pelvis, and she had to fight not to cry out. Biting her lip, she rode out the shivers of pleasure radiating from her core. With each thrust and curl, he showed her a little bit of heaven, adding yet more pleasure when his lips brushed the side of her neck. His deep voice whispered in her ear, dirty, crude phrases to describe how he was going to take her. How hard, how fast. Words she couldn’t focus on.
  
  She strained and rocked her hips until her release welled and exploded without warning. Tension one moment and an onslaught of ecstasy the next. She cried his name and shuddered, riding his hand for every last drop of pleasure. God, it had been so long….
  
  Waves shimmered through her, pleasure still ebbing and flowing. He slipped from her and she gave him a pout. Through heavy eyelids, she admired the grace in his heavily muscled frame as he stripped with an economy of motion beautiful in itself. His cock, hard and heavy, sprang free to slap against his toned stomach, the pale scars there evidence that he hadn’t come away from his time in the army unharmed.
  
  “Like what you see?” His amused query filtered through her pleasure-numbed brain. The couch dipped under his weight and foil rustled. He turned sideways, his muscled arms hiding his movements as he sheathed himself. Then he turned and crawled over her again like a predator, his gaze hot, a tight, fierce expression on his face.
  
  The shiver hit her, radiating out from her core in waves. Settling between her thighs, he hauled one of her legs up over his hip, opening her wide to him. The broad tip of his shaft rubbed against her clit, and she jumped with a moan of pleasure. She’d already come, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed him. Filling her. Taking her. Claiming her.
  
  “Nearly there, baby.” He dipped his hips to drag the thick shaft of his cock along her pussy lips, then rocked between them. She whimpered, every cell on fire as he teased her.
  
  “Please….” she begged, unable to take much more. “Barr, please. Now.”
  
  He answered by angling his hips and then he was there. Right where she needed him. Their moans, hers soft and delicate, his harsh and masculine, merged as he pushed, his thick head breeching her, stretching and parting her, each thick inch larger than the last until, finally, he was seated to the hilt.
  
  “Look at me, baby,” he urged with a strong finger under her chin, forcing her head back. Concern warred with the heat filling his gaze. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
  
  She couldn’t speak, the burning pressure of the welcome invasion stealing the ability clean away. Instead she shook her head, hands flat on his chest, waiting for the burn to ease. And it did, replaced by the urgent need to move. She rocked her hips and he rewarded her with a sharp inhale and a muttered curse. Grinning, she did it again.
  
  “Fuck….” He growled. “That’s it.”
  
  Grabbing her wrists again, he hauled them back over her head. He seemed to like pinning her down, but she didn’t care. He pulled out and a shudder hit her, then he slid back in, the stroke hard and satisfying. As long as he kept doing what he was doing, he could do whatever he liked.
  
  Setting up a hard and fast rhythm that shoved her into the soft leather of the couch, each stroke filled with a power and feral need that touched the wolf inside her. She met him thrust for thrust, reveling in the heat and eroticism of the moment. The sounds of sex, the slide and slap of skin on skin, and their soft moans and pants filled the room.
  
  It was too much. She hovered on the knife-edge again. Her breath caught, her movements slowing and uncoordinated. Barrett growled again, let go of her arms, wrapped his around her and slammed home over and over. He claimed her mouth and she came apart, her scream, his name, muffled under his lips.
  
  The orgasm shattered her into a million pieces, each cascading down like drops in waterfall. He roared, upping his pace. The slide of his thick cock caused the fragments to shatter further, until she was awash with bliss. One, two, on the third stroke he drove into her and stiffened, throwing back his head to bellow her name.
  
  Claiming her as his own.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  He couldn’t believe it. He’d found her again.
  
  Barrett lay on his side in the big bed they’d finally made it to and watched the woman sleeping next to him. If he’d had any reservations that she was Saxon—his Saxon—then they’d been eased when she fell asleep. Within a minute or two of her breathing evening out, she’d turned on her side and nestled against him, all curled up and cute. Like she’d always done, right from the first night they’d spent together on a hard cot in some tent in the ass-end of beyond.
  
  Brushing his lips over her temple, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes in contentment. He should sleep. Already exhaustion pulled at him beyond the sated satisfaction humming through every cell, but he didn’t want to miss anything. Two years he’d been without her, grieved for her, so every second was a gift.
  
  He allowed the reality to settle in, and warmth spread through him.
  
  Car crash, his ass. She didn’t bear scars from the bullet wounds that killed her, but he’d sparred with Sav enough to know that wolves didn’t scar and the change wiped any damage from their bodies to leave a clean slate. He envied the awkward bastard. While some of their training sessions left Barrett almost unable to walk, the werewolf strutted around like a spring chicken, regardless of the amount of damage Barr had handed out with his fists. So yes, some hard questions needed to be asked, right the way down the line. From the medics who had told him she’d died, to the family that appeared to have lied to her.
  
  But that could all wait until morning. He didn’t want to wake Aaron or Mel up that late at night. They’d both have his back. Aaron would shift heaven and earth, throwing all the influence a world-famous rock star could muster, until the situation yielded some answers. They would get to the bottom of it. He relaxed with a smile, finally able to look forward to the future with a happy heart.
  
  He drifted between asleep and awake, Saxon in his arms, and at some point must have dropped off. A loud crash and the sound of wood splintering shot him out of sleep faster than an attack alarm on base. Jerking to a sitting position and spilling Saxon off his chest, he looked around the room.
  
  “Huh?” She blinked sleep from her eyes, pushing hair out of her face. “What’s going on?”
  
  He didn’t need to respond, deep growls from the next room answering for him. Saxon swore, her eyes flaring amber until they glowed solid with her wolf.
  
  “I don’t believe this. Stay here.” Rolling out of bed, she grabbed his shirt off the floor to slide on and stalked toward the door.
  
  “Like fuck. We deal with this together.” He grabbed his pants, walking into them as he followed her.
  
  Men filled the main room, werewolves judging by the bright amber of their eyes. Barrett glanced from one face to the next, committing them to memory. A kickback from his training. Three were similar, with blond hair and Saxon’s features made masculine. Her family, obviously. Coming to the last one, he paused. With black hair and a larger frame, he didn’t fit. Not at all.
  
  “What the fuck do you lot think you’re playing at?” Saxon radiated fury, her voice a low growl.
  
  The man in the middle stepped forward. He was older, the blond streaked with gray.
  
  “Saving you from making the worst mistake of your life.” His deep, cultured voice carried the rough burr of his wolf. Barrett had never met Saxon’s family, but for a guess, the man had to be her father. Not an understanding one though, judging by the anger on his face.
  
  Sax put her hands on her hips and glared back. “Worst mistake of my life? You mean a worse mistake than me joining the army? Or perhaps you’re referring to the mistake I made believing my family when they fucking lied to me. For. Two. Whole. Years.”
  
  Her father froze, surprise then guilt flowing over his face, like a train derailed by her words. Barrett hid his grin. Yeah, his girl wasn’t slow at all, she’d put it all together and by his reaction, proof positive she’d been right.
  
  “Why, Dad?” She softened her voice, but it carried heartbreaking pain and bewilderment. “Why would you do that to me?”
  
  “When you were just a potential, it didn’t matter.” The older wolf’s shoulders rose, shame flitting across his eyes for a second as he looked between them, then back at Saxon. “So we let you do what you wanted. The whole army thing. When they told us that you’d been killed—”
  
  He paused, blew out a breath. “We’d lost you again, completely this time. When we collected you, it was wrong though. You weren’t dead, but you weren’t alive enough for the human medics to tell the difference.”
  
  He reached for her, but she stepped back, her back against Barrett’s bare chest. A silent message.
  
  Her dad sighed and carried on. “You must have gone through the change at the point when you died. It happens sometimes with a violent death. Like the wolf that lay dormant was finally released.”
  
  “You let them think I was dead, didn’t you?” she asked, her tone hard, accusatory.
  
  He nodded, the wolves around him remaining silent. Barrett flicked them a quick glance. The blond wolves seemed as embarrassed as the father, bright banners of color on their cheeks, but the one with dark hair simply appeared pissed. Barrett tensed. That one is trouble.
  
  “Yeah, when we realized you were a full wolf. A female wolf…. Do you know how valuable you—”
  
  “No!” Slicing a hand through the air, she cut him off. “We are so not going there. I am not a possession to be bartered, whatever the fuck I may be. Human, potential, or wolf, my life is my own. You taught me that, so how could you? No. How dare you? How dare you take me from the life I’d chosen, the man I’d chosen, and then fucking lie to me?”
  
  Her father stiffened. If Barrett thought he’d been surprised before, he looked stunned now. “What? This is him? The human soldier—”
  
  “Major, actually,” Barrett drawled.
  
  “Yeah. This is him.” She searched for his hand and he slid it around her waist, presenting a united front to the werewolves in the room. “I didn’t forget him. He was in all my dreams. My wolf telling me the truth when my caring family were unable to.”
  
  “You dreamed of him…. The nightmares?”
  
  “Of course the nightmares.” She nodded, shifting her stance against him, her back still against his chest. He couldn’t help bending to drop a kiss on her wayward curls, glaring at tall, dark, and wolfy all the time. He didn’t like the way the guy looked at Sax, his woman. Not at all.
  
  “What else did you think I’d have nightmares about?” she asked. “The accident I wasn’t involved in?”
  
  The wolf caught Barrett’s glare and curled his lip in warning. Barrett curled his right back. He might not be a werewolf, but like Saxon, he’d come back from war changed. Better than he’d been before he left. Sav commented more than once that Barrett was stronger and faster than any human he’d ever fought, and he’d been hard pressed to best him at times. Add his Special Forces training and the fact that he itched to lay the smackdown on some wolves right then, and it wouldn’t take much for him to lose his temper and kick off.
  
  “You have nightmares about…over there?” The subject appearing to cause the older wolf some distress, his voice low and tortured. “You don’t remember—”
  
  “Being shot?” she threw back. “In my dream, yes. Barrett confirmed I dream about the attack that killed me. I dream of him trying to save me. Always trying to save me, but the nightmare is him slipping away at the end. It’s like a wrench, like my heart is being torn right out of my chest. Like he’s linked to me somehow.”
  
  Her father shot a glance sideways, connecting with that of the wolf next to him, one of his sons. “Wolf-bon—”
  
  “No!” The odd wolf out snarled, his face a mask of fury. “No bond. I was promised the first female wolf the Reeves pack produced. In return for the…benefits the Reeves pack has already enjoyed.” He stared at Barrett, his eyes glittering with malice, throwing the challenge down. “She’s mine, and no human will take her from me, bonded or not.”
  
  
  
  “Come on then, pretty-boy. Bring it on,” Barrett snapped in response. For a human, it sounded almost wolf-like. Feral.
  
  Saxon’s breath caught when Robert stepped forward, murder in his eyes. Fear flooded her veins, all the hurt, disappointment and frustration at the games her family had played on pause for the moment. More than a werewolf, Robert was wolf-born. A hereditary wolf instead of a bitten one. No way a human, even an ex-soldier, could take him on and win. Or survive. Tension escalated in the room.
  
  “No!” She spread her arms, trying to keep Barrett behind her. She’d only just found him, she refused to lose him again. Not so quickly. Not ever. Her gaze collided with Barrett’s, and she read the utter determination and lethal intent in his blue eyes.
  
  “I got this.”
  
  Barrett shoved her behind him with an ease belying his non-wolf standing and advanced on Robert with violence written in every line of his body. Though naked from the waist up left him vulnerable to attack, Barrett oozed danger and fury from his pores, and an odd growl rose from his throat.
  
  “I’m gonna tear you apart, and there’s nothing you can do about it, human.” Robert sneered, flicking a contempt-filled glance over Barrett. The other werewolves tensed further, warily eyeing them. “You lot stay out of it, or so help me God, I’ll destroy the Reeves pack.”
  
  “No, no!” Sax tried to shove between them, her bare feet skittering over the plush carpet, but Barrett pushed her aside again, handing her off to her father. She screamed and railed at him, trying to get loose as the two squared up to each other in the middle of the room.
  
  Robert threw the first punch, followed by a quick slice of his claws on Barrett’s hand. Sax stilled, sagging in her father’s arms when the claws raced toward Barrett’s exposed abdomen. A wail built in her throat, misery and pain welling up. The man she loved would be killed, murdered, right in front of her.
  
  The claws didn’t connect. Barrett stepped to the side and hammered three punches home; head, ribs and abdomen. Almost before Robert reacted, the air leaving his lungs in a rush, Barrett twisted again. His fist crashed into the other side of the wolf’s jaw, snapping his head to the side, blood and spittle flying. The next blow caught him under his jaw, the perfect uppercut rocking his head back.
  
  Her family gasped, their wonder palpable as Barrett took Robert apart, piece by piece, punch by punch. Her jaw dropped. She’d seen him battle in her dreams, but she couldn’t remember seeing him fight in real life.
  
  He. Was. Amazing.
  
  “Fuck me, how’s he doing that?” her brother muttered. “No human should be able to do that.”
  
  It wouldn’t last long though. Already the low-level snarl building in Robert’s throat warned her of his impending shift. Once he loosed his wolf, Barrett was as good as dead.
  
  “He’s not. I’ve seen this before. It’s rare, but it happens.” Her father swung her around. Wisdom and concern swam in the amber depths of his eyes. “Sax, it’s you. It’s the wolf bond. You’re an Alpha and he’s tapping your wolf. Open the link…wider than you ever have before, darling…it’s the only way or Culson’ll kill him. Come on, we’ve got you.”
  
  Sax nodded and reached deep inside, her family crowding close to support her. Her wolf yipped in welcome, pleased Saxon had finally called on her. Silent communication passed between them, the two sides of her nature in total accord. Power built in her soul but instead of forcing her physical body to change, she searched for the connection that must be there, had always been there. The connection to Barrett. Their bond.
  
  She found it, the edge catching at her mind like a stray thread and she grabbed. Hard. Holding tight, she pushed the power of her wolf through it, feeding the feral side of her nature into the bond to aid Barrett in his fight.
  
  Robert’s roar brought all their heads around. His eyes were bright amber, fur flowing over his features as his frame shifted, changing with sharp pops and the snapping of bone. Barrett backed off, fists still high, watching warily. Shaking with great effort, she held tight to her father’s arm, and she shoved the last of what she had—all the power and knowledge of her wolf—through the link.
  
  Barrett jerked, his spine bent into an arc, his big, powerful body defenseless while Robert advanced. Half-man, half-beast, he curled his lip back to snarl, drool dripping from razor sharp teeth. The dim light in the room glittered on the edges of his claws....
  
  She screamed. “No! Barrett!”
  
  Her human gasped and the spell broke. Launching into action, Barrett ducked as Robert’s claws raked the air where his throat had been. She caught her breath, the only reaction she had the ability to make. All her energy gone into the link, she slid to her knees. Barrett attacked in earnest and like before, the fact that his opponent wasn’t human didn’t seem to make any difference to him.
  
  He whirled and danced, avoiding Robert’s claws and teeth with ease until the fight became a mockery. His fists hammered home time after time until he’d driven the wolf to his knees. Blood matted Robert’s dark fur and dripped from his muzzle. Barrett stood over him, his chest gleaming with sweat, shoulders heaving, and he considered his opponent with disgust. “Saxon. Is. Mine.” Landing the last blow, he ended the fight.
  
  Robert keeled over, sprawling unconscious. His bones cracked, the change back to human as automatic as breathing. Ignoring him, Barrett stepped over the fallen wolf, advancing on Saxon and her family. He glared at the male wolves around her, a bright ring of amber, amber from her wolf, visible in his eyes. A challenge, pure and simple.
  
  “I’ll take my mate now.” He held out a hand to her while his attention remained on the men. “Unless any of you wants to try and stop me?”
  
  Her family stepped away from her, shaking their heads. He nodded, arrogance and danger wreathing his features.
  
  He’ll do anything to claim me, keep me safe. Without hesitation she put her hand in his, love washing through her soul and filtering through the link. He returned it in full force, and her wolf, inextricably linked to them both, yipped with happiness.
  
  Picking her up, he held her against his solid chest. “Now, little wolf. We have a night to finish. And a future to plan. You with me?”
  
  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and smiled. “Until death don’t us part.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
  
  
  
  
  
  Mina was born and raised in the East Farthing of Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England) and spend her childhood learning all the sorts of things generally required of a professional adventurer. Able to ride, box, shoot, make and read maps, make chainmail and use a broadsword (with varying degrees of efficiency) she was disgusted to find that adventuring is not considered a suitable occupation these days.
  
  
  
  So, instead of slaying dragons and hunting vampires and the like, Mina spends her days writing about hot shifters, government conspiracies and vampire lords with more than their fair share of RAWR. Turns out wanna-be adventurers have quite the turn of imagination after all...
  
  (But she keeps that sword sharp, just in case the writing career is just a dream and she really *is* an adventurer.)
  
  
  
  The boring part: A full time author and cover artist, Mina can usually be found hunched over a keyboard or graphics tablet, frantically trying to get the images and words in her head out and onto the screen before they drive her mad. She’s addicted to coffee and would like to be addicted to chocolate, but unfortunately chocolate dislikes her.
  
  
  
  You can visit with Mina at:
  
  http://mina-carter.com
  
  
  
  
  
  Melody’s Wolf by Mina Carter
  
  
  
  
  
  Melody's love life is in a bit of a dry spell...for the last two years. Content tracking down archaeological evidence of werewolf packs, she spends her time wearing wellingtons and covered in mud rather than looking for a date. Knowing her worried brother isn’t above arranging a kidnapping to get her to go on a date, she agrees to a match with 1Night Stand, figuring Madame Eve has to be a better matchmaker than her beloved brother.
  
  Money, fame, looks—rock star and werewolf Aaron Rixx has it all, except the one thing that truly matters...love. Yearning for a woman to see him for who he is, he lets Madame Eve make all the arrangements. No matter where he goes, as the lead singer of the world famous band, Lyric Hounds, he's always recognized...so all he expects is a night of hot sex and a quiet weekend with his music.
  
  He never anticipates Madame Eve might find the one woman on the planet who doesn't recognise him on sight...or the one he and his wolf identify instantly as their mate. Will one night be enough for him to convince Melody she's his forever?
  
  
  
  
  
  Love in One Night by Rebecca Royce
  
  
  
  Melanie is a woman prepared for disaster. If the world as she knows it were to come grinding to a disastrous halt, her sustainable living community will be ready and able to take care of the people in their area. She doesn't have a man in her life anymore, but she has her daughter and that's enough.
  
  Until a tall, dark stranger drives into her life.
  
  
  
  Griffith is on a mission to find Melanie's ex-husband Victor, who has stolen a very expensive new drug from a pharmaceutical company. Griffith is a man who can find what others can't. He never backs down from a fight and he's never afraid—until he sees Melanie. She steals his breath and makes him wish for things he's never wanted before.
  
  These two people are prepared for everything, except the depth of their own need for one another.
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  Title page
  
  Chapter One
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Chapter Four
  
  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
  
  
  
  
  
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Новые книги авторов СИ, вышедшие из печати:
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