The Tigers of Texas 1

On the Prowl

When shape-shifting tiger Dion Goldclaw discovers a car crashed
on the ranch he shares with his breedmate, Jag, he finds a woman

and two children—tiger cubs. At first he thinks the human woman
has stolen them, but it soon becomes clear that Mia is their
mother. The minute the breed partners see her, they want to

make her theirs.

Mia is escaping from the people who kidnapped her five years ago.

All she wants is a safe place for her babies. When she sees Jag
and Dion, all that changes. After their first steamy threesome, she

knows where she belongs.

Except she belongs to two shape-shifters she’s never met. Once

Jag and Dion liberate the prisoners from the illegal facility, she is
bound to go to her breedmates, if they’re still alive. She must
leave the happiness she’s found in Texas and start a new life,

leaving her lovers broken-hearted. Unless they can find a way to
stay together.

Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal,
Shape-shifter
Length: 51,945 words

ON THE PROWL

The Tigers of Texas 1

Em Ashcroft

MENAGE EVERLASTING

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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ON THE PROWL
Copyright © 2014 by Em Ashcroft
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-675-9

First E-book Publication: December 2014

Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

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ON THE PROWL

The Tigers of Texas 1

Em Ashcroft

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

Mia hated driving in the dark, but tonight she had no choice. She

glanced at the rearview mirror as they left the road lights behind and
switched up her headlights as the car hit a smaller road.

Panic gripped her hard, but she refused to let it control her. Every

time it rose to choke her, she took a few deep breaths and carried on
driving. She had no choice. Getting to Goldclaw was her only option.

That car behind was bothering her. It kept moving from side to

side as if trying to find a way past, but she couldn’t let it. It might just
be the people belonging to the organization trying to catch her. The
Grid, it called itself. She called them bastards, and worse.

If they caught her, they’d kill her. Then they’d take the two

precious babies strapped in the back, and she’d never see them again.
She couldn’t let them do it, not anymore. Not ever. Her mind kept
racing around the same track. She’d done the only thing she could and
grabbed the only chance she’d had.

The road was getting narrower. The freeway hadn’t lasted long,

and all she had to go on were road signs. No Sat Nav. She didn’t even
have a phone. Now the signs were getting less frequent, and she was
scared. She’d stop at the next town, maybe find somewhere to park
and get a few hours’ rest. Relief swept through her when she recalled

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Em Ashcroft

the bottles she had stashed in the well of the empty passenger seat
next to her. She might starve, but she could keep the babies going
until she got to Goldclaw. If she ever got there.

No, she couldn’t think like that. She turned a corner, way too fast,

but that car behind her was making her antsy. It kept driving up close,
almost nudging her. Maybe it was a bad driver, or somebody in a
hurry. As soon as she got somewhere with room for more than one
car, she’d let him past.

He flashed his lights, and she blinked to get the dazzle out of her

eyes. One of the babies whimpered. She risked another glance in the
rearview mirror. The baby settled again, harrumphed, shifted in his
chair, and then fell asleep again. The driver of the car behind
remained masked in shadow. There were two passengers, not one as
she’d first thought. She didn’t recognize the car, but that didn’t mean
anything. It didn’t mean they weren’t chasing her.

Of course they’d chase her. A dip in the road made her jump, but

the babies didn’t wake. When they were awake, they were full of
mischief, but asleep, they were good as gold—so precious she daren’t
fail now. She kept her speed steady, not too fast, but not slow enough
to annoy the bastard tailgating her. So far he’d only tried to get past,
not to nudge or toot his horn at her. She wanted to keep it that way.

On these uneven surfaces in the dark, she should keep her eyes

firmly fixed on the road ahead, but she had to check.

The babies were still asleep. For the first hour of this journey,

she’d driven with them screaming. Then she’d pulled in at a gas
station and used the credit card she’d stolen to buy two baby seats,
some formula, bottles, disposable diapers, and cans of baby food, as
well as a set of sweats for herself. The store clerk had been singularly
uninterested in her purchases, for which she’d been deeply grateful.

Before that, she’d managed with their portable crib and the seat

belts, but her heart had been in her mouth every time she’d gone over
the tiniest bump. But what choice had she had? None, that was all.
She’d stolen the first car with an open door old enough to hotwire.

On the Prowl

9

That hadn’t left her much choice because most modern cars were
hotwire-proof, at least to amateurs like her. She’d had the choice of a
gorgeous and beautifully kept vintage Italian model, and an old, run-
down but serviceable one. She’d chosen the old one, not least because
the owner would be less likely to make a fuss when he or she found it
gone.

Maybe a disreputable past had its benefits—or at least, association

with the disreputable. She grimaced. All those years trying to be
respectable, and it was her shady childhood learning to steal and
hotwire cars that had served her best.

Her heart pounded when the road ended, and she had to make a

choice. Left or right? Shit, she didn’t even know if it was north or
south, without even a compass to guide her. Not that it would have
been much help. All she had was a name—Goldclaw. She’d been
lucky to find a sign, and she’d followed them ever since.

This car had swung in behind her about ten miles back. She

should have stolen another car, or traded this one in at a shady
dealer’s. Anything, but—oh, fuck, stop panicking!

Being outside after five years in the same place made her antsy.

That little room, with its bed, chair, and medical equipment, most of
which was taken out when they didn’t need to use them on her, was
all she’d known. She remembered who she’d been and what she’d had
before they’d taken her, but it was like a dream. Once she was out in
the world again, it had shocked her with its sheer size. Far bigger than
she remembered—far too big to handle. Getting in the car had come
as a relief, because it was confined. But out there—fuck, it was too
much.

Her heart pounded as she took a chance and turned right. At the

least, she’d come to a sign and find out where she was. If she were
lucky, she’d find a bigger road. Then she could let this guy pass
safely. But if he overtook her here, he could stop in front of her, and
then she’d have no chance. Hedges edged this road, and for all she
knew, ditches lurked behind them. This was cattle country—she’d

10

Em Ashcroft

seen some on her way here, and they’d want to stop the livestock
getting on to the roads. She knew that much, for all she was a city
girl.

This new road was no wider than the old one, and for two or three

miles—she was too busy watching the road ahead to spare more than
a glance at the gauge—no signs, nothing. A country road had uneven
surfaces. Shit, she so should have exchanged this car. Too late now, if
the car behind contained the people who would definitely want her.
Not her, but the precious cargo she carried. The babies.

A bump jolted her forward, pushed her off balance. The bastard

had nudged her!

She accelerated a little. It was the wrong thing to do, because it

told him she was panicking. Another nudge followed. If she had a
weapon, she’d have risked stopping the car and using it, if only to
threaten the people behind. She’d protect the babies with her life, if
she had to, without hesitation. But not like this, because without her,
they babies would have nothing and nobody to help. Goldclaw should
hold people who’d be glad to care for them, if not for her. If she could
only reach the town…

Another nudge inched her forward. Oh, fuck. She couldn’t slow

down now. She touched the brake pedals, without actually activating
the brakes, just enough for the red lights to flash. She glanced in the
rearview mirror and saw the faces of her pursuers momentarily lit by
her action. They didn’t react, and the view was too brief to show
anything except that they were male—one with a beard, the other with
a craggy, unmistakably masculine face.

Then, thankfully, the car dropped back, and the driver seemed

content to follow. Maybe it was just a couple of guys eager to get to
their Saturday night activity, whatever that might be.

Maybe she should have bought a gun, too. Most towns here had

someone willing to sell a woman a weapon. If she’d had time, she’d
have maxed out that credit card. She daren’t use it anymore. It would
be a sure trace of her movements. She’d dared to stop barely ten miles

On the Prowl

11

from the facility to grab what she needed and to stock up with gas.
She shouldn’t have been so desperate. She should have thought harder
and bought more, but now she needed to ditch the card. She should
also have tried to finagle some cash, but she didn’t have the PIN, and
not being a criminal, she had no way of discovering it.

Things had changed in five years. The shock of the new,

somebody called it, and they were right. The car radio had reported
more shape-shifter activity than ever before, talking about the
movements toward integration. Up until now, shape-shifters and
humans had lived in uncomfortable proximity, but now they were
moving to merge the communities, to welcome the others. Except for
some people, like the members of the Grid. She’d even heard the
name mentioned on the radio. When she’d come across it five years
ago, it had been a completely unknown secret terrorist organization.

She’d turned off the radio as it had turned to the inevitable

country music, afraid it would wake the babies. That music was
something she hadn’t missed, but in her hometown they hadn’t played
much country music.

Driving steadily, she reached another turn. Left or right? Right

again. Next time she’d go left. Otherwise she might double back on
herself. Praying her companions would turn the other way, she
signaled and turned. They tucked in behind her.

This road was narrower, if anything, and definitely bumpier. Why

hadn’t she turned the other way? Where the fuck was she? At least
dawn was coming, the road a little more visible. Soon she’d be able to
see without the headlights.

Relief swamped her when she saw another turn ahead. She needed

to stop soon. The babies would wake up hungry, and that was one
thing she couldn’t take care of while driving. One whimpered, not the
one who’d woken up before.

She drove, her hands white-knuckling the wheel, working hard to

fight the fatigue sweeping over her. She’d been going all day,
surviving on junk food, and now she needed to get to safety. A motel

12

Em Ashcroft

would do, as long as the people were up and friendly enough to scare
off her pursuers. If they were pursuers. If she wasn’t being paranoid.

Another nudge came. Shit, she thought they were done. Tired of

this, she put her foot down, just a tiny bit, just to give them some
space. But it didn’t do any good, because they inched up and nudged
her again. She jolted to one side then swerved back onto the road, her
heart beating double-time, her breath coming in short catches.

This time, they nudged her harder and pushed her forward. The

car behind her was a sedan, not much bigger than hers, but a newer
model. It probably had more under the hood. That meant she couldn’t
outrun it. This road was too bumpy to risk it. On her own, sure, but
not with the babies in the back. But if they nudged her much more she
might not have much choice. She’d have to speed up and risk it.

The car behind bumped her harder, and this time the babies woke

up, moaning at first, until first one and then the other cried. They’d
get worse now, driving each other on until they were sick if she didn’t
do something. Mia had forgotten their pacifiers, left on the floor of
the nursery when she’d fled. She’d hated using them, only doing it
because she was afraid of what her captors would do, but she needed
the pacifiers now.

She had to work to concentrate, her mind skittering away from the

present horror. Whether they were from the Grid or not, the men in
the car behind meant her no good. They wouldn’t be able to see the
babies, although the tops of their safety seats might just be visible. A
single woman on her own at night could be easy prey for carjackers
or—whatever. If that were all, then she’d be lucky.

A tight bend loomed ahead. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t afford to.

If the driver behind rammed her, the babies, now using their excellent
lungs at full power, would suffer first.

If she’d taken the curve any tighter she’d have done it on two

wheels. As it was, she barely stayed on the road, which was as narrow
as ever. A screech of wheels, audible even over the screaming of the
babies, announced the arrival of her harassers.

On the Prowl

13

She didn’t even have time to grab a weapon. She’d just have to

find something, the nearest to hand. Although, a used cardboard
coffee cup and an empty bag of chips didn’t provide much help.
Concentrate, Mia. Just hang on.

The babies screamed, shattering her senses. They were hungry,

tired, scared. All of that came in waves to her along with the shrieks.
Her head pounded, the headache sudden and shocking.

This time, they didn’t nudge her. They rammed her. The forward

jerk took the front of the car to the side. Before she had a chance to
straighten up, the side of the vehicle sagged sideways. It was a ditch,
a fucking ditch. The lurch took the offside wheels off the road, tilting
them at a crazy angle.

Her last thoughts were to pray that she’d fastened the straps on the

unfamiliar baby seats properly. Please God, let the babies be all right.

Something outside shot over the head of the car and came to a

juddering halt with a squeal of brakes and a crash.

Mia screamed.

14

Em Ashcroft

Chapter Two

Dion yawned. This was crazy, getting up this early, but ever since

Robyn had left a year ago, he hadn’t settled properly at night. He’d
even tried sharing a bed with his breed partner, Jag, but they only did
that when they shared a woman. They hadn’t done that for a fucking
long time. Maybe they needed something like that—a wild night with
a crazy woman. Fun, whatever that was. Anyhow, after half a night,
Jag had told him having his breed partner in his bed without a woman
felt weird, and then told him to fuck off. Dion had shrugged and left.
Jag was right, but he still couldn’t sleep. He decided to go for a run.
Since this area belonged to shifters, he had no worries about scaring
people, except for the tourists and the new people moving into the
area, but this was their land, and private.

Unless shifters wanted to go through a lot of clothes, they stripped

before they changed form. Dion didn’t bother. He slept naked. He
rolled out of bed and wandered outside into the dim morning light,
shape-shifting as he went. He extended his hands and let the claws
pop out, forming from his fingernails, and then the paws, enjoying the
sensation as the fur developed and rippled up his arms, the stripes
flowing along the creamy-white fur. If he weren’t a shape-shifter, but
a full-time tiger, he’d be endangered. Other tigers would shun him
because he was an aberration, different. As it was, there weren’t many
shape-shifters like him around. There’d be one less when he died,
because he didn’t have a chance of kids. Cubs. Whatever. Some
called them one thing, and some called them another.

Some people called shape-shifters “abominations” and other filthy

words. That was getting worse now, not better. A specific secret

On the Prowl

15

organization and sections of the population were rising up to oppose
them, keep them in their place, they said. Shape-shifters had had to set
up a fucking lobby in Washington, DC. It was all getting too
complicated for a simple Texan rancher.

At least, that was what he told people who asked him. He’d push

back his hat, scratch his head, and say he’d rather not think of
anything happening north of Houston.

It seemed to satisfy most people. It was a pity it didn’t satisfy him.
But this helped, shape-shifting and spending time just being. At

first he played, rolling in the dew-drenched grass and chasing insects,
snapping at them with his massive jaws.

Shaking off the wetness, he loped through the trees they’d planted

near the house. They provided much-needed shade in the heat of July
and August. Dion’s parents had lived here, and their parents before
them. Now they were gone, and Dion was the last of his line to live at
the Lazy R. Not that it mattered, except for the longing only women
were supposed to feel—the need for children. Jag was less keen on
having kids, but since the matter was academic, since they didn’t have
a breedmate to have kids with, it didn’t cause any trouble between
them.

Except they bickered more often. It was the change, the decision

to integrate shape-shifters and humans that had happened in the last
year or two. Dion and Jag tried to respect the humans they’d
employed recently, but some of them still freaked when the shape-
shifters did their thing and changed into their other form.

Dion, Jag, and the other shifters tried to keep their other forms

away from the humans. Being gawked at was no fun after the first few
times. They had made it clear that the hands would probably see the
shape-shifters naked from time to time. They had to take care in
human communities. They could get arrested for indecent exposure,
or even sexual harassment, even if they didn’t touch anybody.
Fucking stupid. But this was their land, their community, and if
humans wanted to live here, they could fucking get used to it.

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Em Ashcroft

Time for a good run, to get the cobwebs out of his brain. He’d

have to go back soon. Maybe he’d take a look at the fence down on
the south part of the ranch. He hadn’t been happy about the rusty
wire. Then later on today, he’d drive down with his tools and get
some honest labor done. That was what he needed, something to tire
him out. He spent too many hours doing the fucking accounts. Who’d
have thought a simple list of ins and outs would’ve stressed him so
much? He’d make Jag do it next year.

Five miles was nothing to a full-grown tiger. He was just getting

into his stride when he crested the hill and headed down to where he’d
spotted the rusty wire the other day. They’d moved the cattle up to the
east part of the ranch last week, so no cows remained to stare after
him or shy back in fear if he got too close. The cattle and horses they
raised were used to tigers, anyhow. The eagles who’d visited them
last year were something else, though. If he could have smiled in this
form, he would have, because he’d never seen flying shape-shifters
before. Never gone outside Texas much. He lost the smile when he
recalled the other result of their visit. Except they’d taken away their
breedmate, the woman Dion and Jag had considered marrying, and
Dion still missed her. But for them, Robyn might still be living at the
ranch. It wouldn’t have been right to take away a breeding couple’s
breedmate, and while Dion and Jag were fond of Robyn, she most
definitely wasn’t their breedmate.

Something caught his eye, a glimpse of blue. It was probably a

car. He couldn’t see clearly through the overgrown hedge. That would
need clipping. Maybe somebody stopped to sleep instead of driving
through the night. What were they doing in this lane? It didn’t lead
anywhere. Five miles along, it petered out into nothing. They couldn’t
even get to the ranch unless they walked.

What the fuck?
Dion lengthened his lazy, loping stride into a run, his great paws

eating up the ground. Two cars, not one, but the same dark blue color,

On the Prowl

17

lay on the road. One was tilted on its side, and the other, the one in
front, was battered and dented, its top crushed.

Shit. He sent out a broadcast to Jag. “Call the paramedics to the

lane at the bottom of the south field. There’s been an accident. Two
cars. I’m shifted, but I’ll change and go see what I can do.”

After a moment’s hesitation, which was probably Jag waking and

getting the message, he got a reply. “Sure. I’m calling them now.
Keep in touch. Do you want me to come down?”

“Yeah, but don’t shift. Bring the truck and some tools.”
“On my way.”
His heart in his mouth, Dion headed for the road. He leaped the

ditch beside the vehicle that had tipped into it, and only then shifted
back to human form.

A bleating sound from inside told him someone was there. Or

something. A woman lay slumped over the wheel, her airbag
deployed. White powder dusted her dark blonde hair. He took a
second to feel for her pulse. It beat, thready but regularly. She’d need
help soon, though. One arm was spread over the airbag, the other
trapped between her body and the handbrake. It was smeared with
blood, although he couldn’t see any dangerous bleeding, such as the
kind that would come from an artery. He partially shifted, improving
his sense of smell, though not altering his human form. If she came
around, having a tiger looming over her might send her into a panic
that could cause further injuries. But he needed some of his tiger
senses.

That bleating wasn’t human. He glanced over the woman’s inert

body, and his attention grew fixed. Clambering over two baby seats in
the back of the car were two tiger cubs.

So small, they were babies, little bigger than domestic cats. Weeks

old. But no—baby seats for tigers didn’t make sense. Unless—with a
jolt, the truth came to him—they were shape-shifters. Shape-shifter
cubs developed at a slower pace than their pure tiger equivalents, so
maybe they were a little older than they looked, if they were shape-

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Em Ashcroft

shifters. If they were pure tigers, they’d never be without their mother
this young, unless something had happened and their mother was
dead. His mind raced with possibilities. He reached in and touched
one. The cub responded by rubbing against his hand, and his
distressed cries lessened a little. Not completely, though. “Hey, baby.
Hang on in there until they come and get you out. You’re so precious.
We’ll take care of you. So what are you doing here?”

Not that they’d answer.
They didn’t seem hurt, but they were certainly bewildered. The

baby seats were new. They didn’t match the old model of the car, or
its condition, which wasn’t good, even before it had gotten involved
in this crash. He would do more harm if he tried to move the woman.
She wore a lounge suit in a virulent shade of green, the top with short
sleeves.

Spotting something that made his heart sink, Dion moved to one

side to make the best use of the early morning light. There was no
mistaking what he saw on her upper arm. He pushed the short sleeve a
little higher, careful not to move her in case something else was hurt.
A crisscross set of lines, two one way, two another. A tic-tac-toe grid,
the symbol members of the enemies of shape-shifters everywhere, the
Grid, used to identify themselves.

It all started to make sickening sense. She’d stolen the cubs.
He left the woman to the paramedics. The siren sounded from

about a mile away, he judged by the sound. They could take care of
her, but he’d have her watched. He wanted answers. Was she a
member of the Grid with two tiger cubs in her car? Cubs who could
be shape-shifters? When the babies had calmed, they’d probably
regain human form if that were true. Then he’d know for sure.

He drew back and went to the other vehicle, but partway there, his

tiger sense of smell told him the worst. That car stank of death, even
through the fumes of gas that had escaped from the ruptured tank. It
lay about a hundred yards further along the road, and although it was
on all four wheels, it was obvious from the crushed roof that it had at

On the Prowl

19

one time turned. If it was going fast enough, it could have vaulted the
car that landed in the ditch.

The two men inside weren’t wearing their seat belts and they’d

been bounced around some. Fuck, were they chasing the woman?
Were they the law, or something else? He looked around but he
couldn’t see any confirmation of his suspicion.

A car’s engine told him Jag was here. The SUV bumped along the

field, heading for a spot lower down where the ditch narrowed enough
for a man to leap over. Jag got out and grabbed a backpack, which he
slung over his shoulders, and a box before he raced to the ditch. After
hurling the box over, he followed it, leaping the gap with ease. Then
he picked up the box and ran to Jag’s side. “Medical supplies in the
bag,” he said, handing it down. “And a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.”

“Thanks.” Dion climbed into the jeans as the siren of the

emergency vehicles closed and finally arrived.

He walked toward the ambulance, wishing he had better news.

* * * *

The emergency services worked fast. Dion nodded to one of them,

Trinity Forrest, a human who worked as a doctor at the local hospital.
“I was taking a ride-along with the paramedics when the call came
in,” she said. “I’m specializing in emergency medicine.” Dressed like
the two paramedics in navy pants and blue shirt, she held a bag of
medical supplies and stood by, waiting for the firemen to get the car
open.

With a metallic creak, the door opened. It came free of the car and

the fireman took it a short distance and dumped it. A three-door,
hatchback model, they had to get the woman driver out before they
could get to the cubs, who were still wailing, but not so frantically
now. The presence of the people soothed them, it seemed. They still
sounded unhappy, the high-pitched crying changing to bleats. Dion’s

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Em Ashcroft

arms ached to hold one, to calm it. Babies needed cuddles, whatever
form they took.

“They’re fine,” the fireman yelled. “Not so sure about the

woman.”

Jag stood next to Dion as they both watched the firemen do their

job. They eased the seat back, pushed the remains of the airbag aside,
and unclipped the seat belt. A paramedic held her as a fireman worked
her loose. Finally away from the car, the paramedic carefully eased
her onto a stretcher, and his partner helped him move it away from the
wrecked vehicle.

Trinity went forward and knelt at her side. She saw the woman’s

upper arm. Dion saw her attention zoom in on the symbol. Now the
whole world knew what it meant, but Trinity had lived with shape-
shifters for longer than most humans, and would have known that
fucking grid. Being the great doctor she was, she continued her calm
and methodical examination. But she’d know, as they did, what it
meant.

Dion left the woman to Trinity’s care and went forward as the

firemen got the seats out of the way and could finally reach the
babies. A paramedic lifted them out. He gave the first one to his
partner. As she took hold of the cub, it changed its form and became a
baby. Dion had been right. They were shape-shifters. Babies changed
willy-nilly until their parents or guardians taught them how to control
it. That happened about the same time the babies learned to walk, at
around a year old, or just before.

The other cub remained in his shifted form for longer. The second

paramedic, a female shape-shifter, curved it into her body, nestling it
against her breasts, and slower than the other, it shape-shifted.

They were two boys. They looked to be the same age. Twins or

unrelated? The female paramedic answered Dion’s question before he
could ask it. “They’re twins.”

They looked like cherubs in some old painting. Since they were

naked, they must have left their diapers behind in the car. “So they

On the Prowl

21

started the journey as babies, and shape-shifted when the car
crashed?”

The paramedic nodded, her ponytail swinging in the breeze that

had struck up from nowhere. It would rain soon. Dion smelled the
dampness in the air and the rancher part of him took note, as the
shifter part registered the change. His mind started working,
irrelevancies, like wondering if the water tanks were still good, and
how he should have checked them last week. He dismissed the
thoughts crowding into his mind, all but the wonder of the tiger cubs.

Shape-shifter women were rare. For some reason yet to be

analyzed, they had almost died out, so the sight of shape-shifter
babies was rare. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a baby,
much less twins. Since humans had gained the ability to become
breedmates, thanks to a formula accidentally released into the water
supply last year, the prospect of renewing the shape-shifter race had
become more promising. The first shape-shifter baby had been safely
born to an eyrie of eagles recently, welcomed by all but the people
afraid or against the very existence of shape-shifters.

He wanted these babies. His heart went out to them, along with a

strong desire to take them and care for them. Sadness filled him.
These babies would be precious to somebody, and they’d have to find
out who the woman had kidnapped them from. Unless she’d killed the
parents to get them.

“You can’t have them,” Jag said.
“Why not? If their parents are dead, who will look after them?”
“Everybody will want them. And we can’t.”
“I want them.”
“I don’t.”
Dion glared at his breed partner. He loved him like a brother, but

that meant they could also bicker like brothers. Only this was more
than bickering. They’d have to come to some understanding, but he
wanted these cubs. “If the opportunity comes our way, I want them.”

22

Em Ashcroft

Jag shrugged. “Okay.” He must know, as Dion did, that people

would be lining up around the block to adopt them, if need be. In any
case, even if the parents were dead, they’d have relatives. This once,
just once, he let his yearning loose and admitted to himself that the
lack of children, or the prospect of any, was a big hole in his life that
nothing would fill. Maybe he’d foster some. Babies held no appeal for
Jag. He could get on with some kids, especially the reasonable ones,
as he put it. But most kids weren’t reasonable, babies or cubs. Or, as
in this case, both.

No amount of cute and cuddly would bring him around, Jag had

declared. Perhaps Dion could change his mind. After all, what kind of
disruption could two creatures that small cause?

The babies were grubby and cold, and exhausted. One of the

firemen hauled a smashed cooler from the back of the car. “This held
bottles.”

One of the paramedics called to him. “We have some formula in

the rig and a couple of heating collars. These two need feeding. I’ll go
get the formula.” Without warning, he handed the baby he held to
Dion.

Dion held the baby as if he instinctively knew how to do it. The

boy shivered and moved closer to him. Dion held him closer, wishing
he was wearing more than a thin T-shirt so he could take it off and
wrap the baby up warmly.

Trinity approached, carrying two silver blankets. She gave one to

Dion, but when she offered to take the baby, he shook his head. She
gave him a considering look and didn’t insist. “The baby’s fine. Just
cold and hungry.”

“I still want to take them into the hospital and examine them.”
Dion nodded. At least he’d get this time, probably the closest he’d

ever get to a child. The male paramedic handed Dion a warmed bottle
of milk. He held it firmly and nudged the teat against the baby’s
rosebud lips. They opened, and the baby pulled in the goodness,
swallowing rhythmically.

On the Prowl

23

Enchanted, Dion watched, aware of the disapproving Jag standing

by his side.

Then the baby opened his eyes, and for the third time in his life,

Dion fell headlong into a connection he’d call love.

He loved his parents, but with a lazy, accepting emotion. He loved

Jag, but as a brother. And their breedmate, lost to them now. He had
difficulty remembering her face these days, but he recalled the pure
jolt of emotion that had jerked him from one existence straight into
another.

Now here it was again, that connection with the amber-eyed baby

staring so trustfully at him. He ventured to touch the child with his
telepathy. “Hello.”

He felt a response. Not a word, because babies could no more talk

using telepathy as they could verbally, but something like a baby
would. Query and deep trust that struck straight to Dion’s heart. His
instinctive need to protect sprang to attention, surrounding them both
with a barrier he would die rather than break. This baby was his.

Except, of course, it wasn’t. But for these precious few moments

the baby belonged to him, and he to the baby. The child had a healthy
appetite, and once wrapped in the blanket and nestled against Dion’s
body, he warmed up and stopped shivering.

A trail of warmth made itself known, trickling out of the blanket

to soak into the dust at their feet. The feeding had resulted in the baby
making room for more.

Instead of being disgusted or shocked, Dion laughed, delighted at

this evidence of health. “The kid likes you,” the female paramedic
said. She took the baby from Dion and bore him off to the ambulance,
no doubt in search of diapers.

“You can laugh when a baby pees on you?” Jag asked.
“Yeah, why not?”
“You’ll need clean pants.”
Dion shrugged. “That’s a small price to pay. That kid, he’s going

to be okay.” Brought back to a sense of reality, he glanced up at

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Em Ashcroft

Trinity, who was standing next to one of the firemen. “We’ve done
what we can,” the man said. “The woman’s not going to die.” He
sounded as sorry as Trinity—that was, not at all. He must have seen
the Grid tattoo. Dion would have hated anybody bringing cubs into
danger, but a member of the Grid couldn’t have any good reason for
having them. They wanted to kill shape-shifters, or exploit them.
Somewhere, a mother was mourning. Or worse—she could be dead.
“What happened, do you think?” Jag asked. He moved a pace away
from Dion, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust. He’d seen Dion in far
worse state than this, after a long night calving cow after cow, or
foaling a mare. A small amount of baby pee amounted to nothing
compared to that. Dion let him have his way. He was distancing
himself from the idea of a baby, that was all. He had no need. They
had a snowball in hell’s chance of getting those babies, and both of
them knew it.

Noah, the fire chief in Goldclaw, turned his attention to Jag, his

eyes shrewd. “This is your land, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Anything wrong with that?”
“No,” the fireman said. Was he implying that the state of the

track, admittedly rough, caused the accident?

Dion glanced at Jag, once more in harmony with him. They would

close ranks if anyone criticized the ranch. “What are you talking
about?”

Noah shrugged. “I just wondered what they were doing here.”
“The track’s a dead end,” Jag said. “It kind of fades away. So I

don’t know. Do you think they took a wrong turn somewhere?”

Noah jerked his head at the car. He wiped his dust-smeared face

with the back of his gloved hand, but that only made the smuts worse.
“Maybe. But this was no accident.”

* * * *

Jag glared at the fireman. “What are you talking about, Noah?”

On the Prowl

25

Noah Goldclaw glared back. Jag and Noah had never had a lot of

time for each other. Noah had taunted Jag when they were kids, and
they’d never shaken off that earlier antipathy. Usually, for the sake of
the community, they stayed apart, but this time, Jag wanted
information and Noah had it.

Already unnerved by Dion’s gentleness toward the baby, Jag

wasn’t happy. He’d discounted the possibility of children years ago,
and was obviously happier with that than his breed partner. Now this
not-accident. The last thing they needed was cops crawling all over
the place. He’d make sure that fence was mended tomorrow.

He jutted out his chin. “Come on, explain.”
Noah took off his helmet and scratched the back of his head. His

close-cut tawny hair stuck to his skull with sweat. “The way I see it,”
he said, his Texan drawl becoming more pronounced, “the car in the
ditch was in front. The car behind was tailing it, maybe chasing it,
which might explain what it was doing here. It took a wrong turn,
maybe. Then the car in front stopped. Maybe it was when the wheels
went over the ditch. The car behind hit it, somersaulted over and
landed on its top before turning again. The guys inside weren’t
wearing their seat belts. Tossed around like washing in a dryer.
Nasty.” He shook his head. “The babies are precious, and I’m not
talking coochie-coo. They could fetch a lot of cash on the black
market.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jag caught Dion’s shudder. Dion

stuck his hands in his pockets, and all Jag could think was Yuck, baby
pee. Nope, kids were not for him. He jerked his head at Noah. “So the
guys in the car were chasing her? Do you think she kidnapped the
babies?”

Noah shrugged. “Hard to say. I’ve told you what it looks like to

me. Motivations, I don’t know. But the baby seats were new. The car
certainly wasn’t. And I don’t mean as new as the babies. I mean, like
yesterday new. They still have tags on them. The cops should be able
to trace where they came from. They’ll take the woman’s DNA, and

26

Em Ashcroft

those guys’, as well as dental records and other ID. Just because
people are carrying driving licenses doesn’t mean they’re the people
on the cards.”

Now that they’d rescued the survivors, the firemen and

paramedics would leave the scene alone. “Didn’t you ever want to be
a cop?” Jag taunted, reverting to childhood rivalries.

“Nope. Always wanted to do what I’m doing now. Ain’t never

regretted a thing.”

Sure, Jag thought. Like nobody ever had any regrets. “We’ll head

over to the hospital,” Dion said before Jag could interrupt. Jag
refrained from rolling his eyes. There’d be plenty of people crawling
over this scene, and he wanted to send one of the hands to keep his
eye on everything. They had to do their job, but there was no reason
they couldn’t do it with the least damage to the estate. They were
busy birthing calves and foals, so the least disruption at this time of
year, the better.

Dion scrubbed his hand over his short, fair hair. He usually grew

it until it got in his eyes, then took the scissors to it. Jag preferred a
more regular haircut and went into town to get it once a month. He
could have buzzed it short, but he liked the chance of looking good
when the dances and socials came around.

Last night he’d been thinking he might suggest a trip into Houston

to Dion. They could use some distraction of the feminine variety, and
Jag loved watching his breed partner busy with a woman. That might
be what was causing them both to have a burr under their saddles
recently. Now they wouldn’t get a chance. The livestock was
beginning to settle down, and he could safely leave the birthing to his
head foreman for a night or two. He needed the break, and so did
Dion. But seeing him with that baby, Jag worried that a couple of
nights with a willing woman wouldn’t be enough.

They’d hoped for a relationship with Robyn, who’d stayed at the

ranch house until recently, but it wasn’t to be after her breedmates
arrived and claimed her. He hadn’t realized how much Dion had

On the Prowl

27

wished for that until he’d casually confessed that Robyn, while
beautiful, didn’t push his buttons like he wanted. Not for the first
time, Jag wished they were gay. It would have solved so many
problems. But they weren’t, and that was the end of it. You couldn’t
make somebody gay, or straight for that matter.

While they walked back to the pickup, Jag pondered on his

favorite fantasies—some watching, oral, and then both of them
fucking the same woman. He had a penchant for fiery redheads,
especially the kind with long hair. Recently Dion, who had leaned
toward voluptuous brunettes, hadn’t offered a preference. He’d been
looking for something else.

Fuck. Jag had better think about what he wanted to do about a

partner. Together or separately, because casual pickups weren’t doing
it for him anymore. The ranch belonged to Dion by rights. Although
as his breed partner, Jag had a claim on it, too. Not that he’d ever
enforce that claim. The place meant too much to Dion. Jag had come
here as a child, when they’d discovered they were breed partners, and
their behavior when they grew old enough to have sex had only
reinforced the bond. It was hard to describe how it happened. It just
did. That didn’t mean breed partners couldn’t live apart. Some were
even married to other people. It happened.

Maybe Dion needed some time on his own.
Jag could give him that, at least for tonight. The cops in Goldclaw

would be stressed out, looking for the origins of the people in the
accident today, chasing up leads and clearing up the mess. He could
help out.

“Deputize me and I’ll stay with her tonight. Keep an eye on her

for you,” he said.

Odell rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “I won’t say no.

Thanks.”

Dion would get a bit of space and Jag could keep an eye on the

woman who’d got a Grid tattoo and had probably stolen two shape-
shifter babies.

28

Em Ashcroft

They reached the car. He climbed in and turned the key. “I’ll drop

by the house before we go to the hospital. It’ll give you a chance to
shower and change. You can’t go to the hospital stinking of baby
piss.”

“I bet that wouldn’t be the first time they’d seen a man covered in

the stuff.” Dion glanced down at his jeans ruefully.

“Usually fathers,” Jag said without thinking. He could have bitten

out his tongue. Because that was what was wrong. Dion wanted to be
a father. He might, one day, father a human, but never a shape-shifter.
That door had closed years ago.

On the Prowl

29

Chapter Three

Jag blinked awake as a sound came from the bed—an essentially

feminine umph, then a groan. He glanced at the woman, then tried to
sit up. He winced as the pain from muscles cramped from snatching
sleep in an uncomfortable vinyl-covered hospital chair caught up with
him.

She took in the saline drip attached to her hand, the cast on her left

arm, and the pristine white sheets. They rustled when she turned her
head. Her eyes widened.

They stared at each other, complete shock registering on her face

and in his mind. Jag worked hard to keep his features from showing
the emotions she evoked in him. His groin tightened, balls drawing up
and cock paying attention to the woman before him. His whole body
tingled in awareness.

How dare she send him into a state of arousal with only one look?
Blue, blue eyes gazed into his. Her hair tumbled around her on the

pillow, tousled and matted from smashed glass and lack of attention.
She obviously hadn’t cared about her appearance much. A bruise
marred the silky perfection of her skin, livid and purple, swelling her
left cheekbone. Her mouth was split, the skin dry, and she wore a
hospital gown, which before now he’d have said couldn’t have been
attractive on anyone. So why this reaction?

Jag liked his women well-groomed and curvy. This woman was

all sticks and straight lines, her cheekbones standing out, her wrist
bones painfully prominent. He’d never gone for the model type, and
there were two ways a woman brought her body to this shape—
deliberately, or someone had starved her.

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Em Ashcroft

He kept out of her mind. Any close contact like that would

enhance any attraction he felt for her. And she was his enemy. The
gown covered the mark on her arm, but he couldn’t forget it.

She licked her lips. “Water,” she said.
Jag turned his attention to the jug of cold water the nurse had

brought in half an hour ago. Most of the ice had melted, but it should
still be pleasantly cold on a parched throat. The thought of sliding his
arm under her head to help her drink repelled him, because physical
contact was not what he needed right now. He needed to get his
rampant and unwelcome libido under his control. Then, when he’d
finished here, he needed to head for the nearest bar, to find a drink
and willing female company. He’d gone too long without a woman,
so much that he’d grown aroused at the sight of a helpless, skinny
one, probably a member of the organization that hated his kind. He
disgusted himself.

Satisfied he’d found an answer to the problem, he poured a glass

of water and leaned forward to help her drink.

The sense of warm woman shot through him, but he did his best to

ignore it. She drank, at first gulping, but when he held the glass away,
she got the message and sipped. But she sipped nearly all of it.

Then she looked at him. Her irises were pure blue, with no flecks

or irregularities. Just the blue of the lake on the ranch at noon on a hot
day. He could almost feel the cold water closing deliciously over his
head as he plunged in.

She leaned back with a sigh, and he put the glass down. “Are you

a doctor?”

“I’m one of the men who found you.” He decided not to

complicate matters by telling her who got there first—that his breed
partner was first on the scene and he was second.

“They hit me. What happened?” Her eyes shot open and she

turned her head, wincing, but not commenting on the pain she must be
feeling at such a quick move. “Where are the babies? Are they all
right? Where are my babies?” Her voice rose in pitch and got faster.

On the Prowl

31

His resolve hardened when she claimed the babies for herself.

They weren’t hers. She was human—they knew that much now. The
doctors who’d treated her had confirmed it. “They’re shape-shifter
babies and you’re human. You’re not their mother.”

“Yes I am. I am!” Her voice got louder, making him afraid she

would hurt herself or someone would come running. And he needed
to know more about her, if only for Dion’s sake. He had to put his
breed partner right. Already Dion had developed a sentimental
attachment to her, although he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t have
to. Jag knew him well enough. Wait. One possibility presented itself.

“You’re their mother? Then where are your breedmates? What are

their names?”

She stared at him, and her lips firmed. “Tell me about the babies

first.”

“Then you’ll tell me more?”
She jerked a nod and winced again. She must have strained the

muscles in her neck when the car had gone into the ditch. Jag’s initial
urge was to go to her, cradle her in his arms so she didn’t hurt herself
again. He ignored the stupid impulse. “The babies are okay. We know
they are tiger shape-shifters. So how did you get them?”

Again, he needed to know. Recently human women had gained

the ability to mate with shape-shifters, but only if they’d ingested the
solution that was now part of the water supply. Which meant close to
a hundred percent. Was that what had happened, or had she taken the
formula when the Grid had exclusive possession of it? The accidental
dumping of the stuff into the main water supply had destroyed their
monopoly, but created new problems. That was six months ago.

Theoretically she could be the babies’ biological mother, but he

couldn’t believe it. The possibility turned his world around, changed
everything he’d taken for granted—that only shape-shifter women
could bear shape-shifter children, that only the increasingly rare
shape-shifter woman could become a full breedmate.

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Em Ashcroft

He’d heard of human women becoming mates to shape-shifter

eagles recently, but he hadn’t seen it for himself. Maybe rumor or
exaggeration. Shape-shifters occasionally took humans as wives.
Even if they couldn’t have shape-shifter babies, they could sire human
ones, and form a relationship. But this—they could do tests.

She moved, and he glimpsed that tattoo, the one that condemned

her in his eyes.

None of the female captives they’d come across before had the

tattoo. Only Grid members were privileged enough for that.

If he told her what he suspected—that she was a willing

volunteer—she’d close up like a clam. They’d never learn anything.
So he needed to go carefully. He wanted this woman to open up to
him, if only to assuage his growing attraction to her. Knowing for
sure she was a member of the Grid would do that for certain. One
hundred percent. While the Grid wasn’t an illegal organization—
yet—it was one that committed illegal acts. What had she done?
Colluded in the kidnap of shape-shifters, at the least.

Jag fought his attraction to her, hunting for some evidence to turn

against her for sure. “How long have you been with the Grid?”

“Five years. When can I see my babies?”
Jag gritted his teeth. She admitted it freely enough. “Do you know

what the Grid is responsible for?”

She nodded. “Some of it.”
“They developed a formula that’s turned the world upside down.”
“When can I see my babies?”
That again. “When we know they’ll be safe.” He fixed her with a

hard glare. “What are the names of the men you were mated with?
And where are your mating rings?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.” Her eyes conveyed

perplexity. Either she had no idea, or she was a fucking good actress.
She must have had sex with the tigers to give birth to the babies—if
she gave birth at all, which he was beginning to doubt. She was lying.

On the Prowl

33

She had to be. Somehow the babies had been born, and she’d gotten a
hold of them.

“Why were you running?”
She swallowed and glanced away. Was she about to tell a lie? “I

had to get the babies away.”

“Why?”
“Because they were taking them away from me.”
That answer came very fast. It had the ring of truth about it. He

was beginning to get a picture now—a woman given control of the
adorable baby shape-shifters, falling in love with them and trying to
claim them for herself? That sounded plausible. But the men after her
had had the appearance of law enforcement. They were armed, and
their car was typical of the kind of unobtrusive but effective model
the FBI preferred.

He didn’t know enough. The bodies were in the morgue, and the

examiner was taking his own sweet time. The police had the cars in
their garage, and the crime scene guys were doing their meticulous
thing. Later on today they’d get the initial reports, and Jag had
ensured there’d be room for himself and his breed partner in the
meeting. No way was something like that happening on their land
without them being involved in the investigation. Or they wouldn’t
play. Simple as that. They’d just make it hard as hell for anyone to get
to the scene.

She closed her eyes and lifted her hand, but then dropped it again

and stared at it, astonished. “What happened in the accident? I mean,
to me?”

“You were lucky. You’ve broken your wrist, and you have some

bruises and cuts. That’s all. The babies are safe, and they’re being
cared for. They shifted after the crash, which gave them more
resilience.” A notion occurred to him. “You did know they were
shape-shifters, didn’t you?”

34

Em Ashcroft

“Of course I did,” she said irritably. Lifting her hand, she

examined the cast, then turned her attention to her other hand.
“What’s in that drip?”

“Saline, I believe,” he said, “With some vitamins. You were

dehydrated. The doctor cleaned you roughly and patched you up, but
they want to come in and take a closer look.”

“Broke my wrist,” she said dazedly. “Examination.” She lifted her

gaze to his face, and once again he was caught by that blue stare.
“Where am I, exactly?”

“Goldclaw hospital,” he said.
To his astonishment, she started to laugh. “Maybe turning right

was the answer, then,” she commented before dissolving into gales of
laughter.

Unable to take any more, Jag got to his feet and left the room.

This woman was impossible. He couldn’t handle this, and he
wouldn’t do it any longer. He’d see how the babies were doing and if
his broody partner was still mooning over them.

* * * *

“She’s given birth,” Trinity said matter-of-factly.
Goldclaw’s police captain, Chris Goldclaw, his assistant Hannah

Linwood, Noah, Trinity, old Jonah Goldclaw, the pathologist, and the
nurse assigned to the patient, a pretty shape-shifter called Mariah, sat
around the polished oak table in the office at the hospital. The
emergency meeting was to assess the information they had. Jag and
Dion were both present, too. Trinity glanced at her electronic tablet.
“She gave birth around six months ago, about the time the children
were born. However, we can’t assume anything yet.”

Jag heard her words in dull shock. He exchanged a glance with his

breed partner. “She’s claiming that the babies are hers.”

Trinity nodded. “I’ve taken DNA samples from the children and

from her. We should get the results any minute. I’m just telling you

On the Prowl

35

what I found. Her injuries are consistent with the assessment of the—
incident, I guess we have to call it. It certainly wasn’t an accident.”
Sighing, she referred to her tablet.

Jag refused to admit that she was their mother. Instead, his

assumptions made even more sense. “So she is a member of the Grid
who gave birth and lost her child. She is fixated on the shape-shifter
babies and eventually runs away with them. The FBI has been
watching for some time, and they set out in pursuit.”

Jonah cleared his throat and ran his hand through the sparse mat

of white hair on his head. “Not exactly.” He had a clipboard with him,
with papers clipped to it. “The men were killed as a result of the
collision. They had no identifying papers on their bodies, but they did
have tattoos.” He glanced over the rim of his gold-framed glasses.
“Marks for the Grid.”

Trinity nodded. “Mia wants hers removed. She says she was their

captive and the mark was a brand of ownership, not a symbol of
membership.”

Jag growled low in his throat. So she was a victim? “So the Grid

wanted their babies back.”

“That seems highly likely,” Chris said. “But what we don’t know

is her role in all this. What part did she play in the babies’ lives? We
can’t make any decisions until we know that. Except that I will report
this to Washington, DC. There are interested people there fighting to
get the Grid outlawed. Supporters for the Grid are gathering, and I’m
worried there’ll be repercussions.”

Dion spoke slowly, quietly, but anger thrummed in his tones.

“You’re planning to tell somebody else about the babies? I say no.”

Jag stared at him sharply. That was far too personal for his liking.

“We don’t know her, Dion. She could be the villain in all this.”

Dion turned his accusatory glare onto Jag. “Are you fucking

kidding me? She was running from them. Everything in her car
suggests that. And she was running to Goldclaw.”

36

Em Ashcroft

“Now, we don’t know that for sure. We only have her word on it.”

From his seat on the other side of the table, Chris tipped back his hat
with one finger and fixed his amber stare on Dion. “Here are the facts.
The car wasn’t hers. The children were well cared for. Those baby
seats were new, and the car was a piece of shit. She had filled bottles
with formula, and she had more formula in the trunk. We found her
personal bag. It contained a pack of drugstore underwear, a set of
used scrubs, and not much else for her. Disposable diapers, a change
of clothes for the babies, and a pack of wet wipes filled that bag out.
No purse. She had what she stood up in. Her clothes were the same
brand as the spare underwear, which suggests she got them at the
same place. We can check on that. Best of all, from our point of view,
we found a credit card. No money, just the card, in the name of V.
Sidgewick.”

“So we can tell what happened, more or less,” Trinity said. “She

ran with the kids. She bought them car seats, diapers, clothes, and
didn’t bother buying anything for herself. No toiletries, no cosmetics,
not even a change of clothes.”

“That indicates all her concern was for the babies,” Dion put in.

He seemed determined to find the best in her. “Do we know what her
name is?”

“No,” Jag said. “But she’s awake now, and coherent, so we can

ask her.”

Trinity shot him a glance. “I want her to rest. But we do know her

first name. Mia.”

The name chimed deep inside Jag, as if the change from “the

woman” to “Mia” was important at all. It wasn’t, he told himself. It
had no significance to anything. Her name didn’t matter. But deep
inside, he knew he was kidding himself. Her name meant they were
one step closer to the intimacy that had started to seem inevitable. It
was crazy. He didn’t know her, had every reason to believe she
belonged to an organization he hated and despised, but something in

On the Prowl

37

her called to something in him. Despite the skinniness, she had the
look, the sassiness—something.

Ah, fuck, he wouldn’t know until—or if—it happened. Until then,

he’d just have to live with it.

As if he knew Jag’s struggle, Dion frowned at him, concern in his

gaze. As his breed partner, Dion could have picked up Jag’s mood
when nobody else would. Jag kept his head up and his gaze steady.

Dion looked away, but that wouldn’t be the end of it. Dion could

be like a dog with a bone, worrying at it until he got his answer.

“No second name?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“Nope.” Trinity shook her head and picked up her tablet. “Not yet,

anyhow. She seemed reluctant to give it, and it’s not vital to her
treatment, so we didn’t pursue the issue. “She’s about thirty years old,
has given birth, and she lacks certain vitamins and minerals, which
we’re giving her now. Like she’s not been in the sun for an awful long
time, which is unusual for Texas. She came around long enough to
give her name and let us examine her for concussion. She didn’t have
anything too serious. She was lucky. She could have come out of this
far worse than she has. Oh yes, and of course, she’s human.”

She glanced up. “From a personal point of view, I’d say she hasn’t

seen a stylist of any description for some time. Her hair hasn’t been
cared for. It’s long, but out of condition, and the ends are badly split.
It’s not been colored or received any kind of salon treatment.” She
shook back her own shiny, chin-length bob. “Her nails are bitten
down, and I don’t think she’s used makeup for a while. Her legs are
unshaven.”

“Beauty tips now, Trinity?” Chris gave her a lazy grin, and Trinity

fixed a hard stare on him. The rumor was that she’d gone out on dates
with Chris’s breed partner, Odell, but Chris wasn’t interested.

“Just observations,” she said, her words steely. “Most women do

something about their appearance, even if they don’t do it all the time.
But this woman is attractive, and yet she’s done nothing.”

“Maybe too busy fighting for the cause,” Jag suggested.

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Em Ashcroft

“We can’t know that,” Trinity said. “You’re making assumptions

we don’t have answers for.”

Yes he was. What the fuck was wrong with him? That woman

ruffled his fur the wrong way, and he didn’t know how to cope with
it. He wasn’t used to anything but certainty and confidence, and she
got to him in a way he didn’t understand. Not understanding made
him antsy. He wanted to stick at the problem until he solved it—fuck
her and get it over with, or discover why she had that effect on him. If
it was just sexual attraction, that was easy, but pure libido never
affected him like this, so that he thought of her when he wasn’t with
her.

“One thing we’re overlooking,” Dion said suddenly. “Did she

come from somewhere nearby or was it just the car that was local?”

He got Noah’s attention. “Fuck, you’re right. That car has a Texas

number plate. We’re tracking it now, but it’s an old one and it could
have gone through a lot of owners. However, we found a receipt for
the baby seats, a few other supplies and some gas in her purse. Since
she used the credit card for her purchases, let’s assume she filled up to
the top. She had over half a tank left in the car, so we can do a rough
assessment of where she came from. If she came straight from a Grid
facility, then it’s somewhere local. Close to Goldclaw. That means we
have a Grid facility we never knew about on our doorstep.”

“Not for long,” Jag said.
The others agreed with him, and silence fell over the table.
A gentle chime from Trinity’s tablet sounded loud in the

temporary hush. She picked it up and touched the message, read it,
then put the tablet down. “Well, that’s one mystery solved. Mia is the
biological mother of the babies.”

Shock jolted Jag. She’d mated? “But she doesn’t have mating

bands.” To have shape-shifting babies, she must have mated. There
was no other way. The wrist bands developed with the mating, even if
one of them was mortal. Mia had no sign of them. They couldn’t be

On the Prowl

39

removed once they’d formed, and it was hard to disguise them. So
what was with that?

“Maybe it was a new bond.” Trinity shrugged. “They don’t

always form immediately. But if she’s had time to get pregnant and
give birth, they should have appeared by now. I don’t have an
answer.” She pushed the tablet away. “I’ll make sure you have a copy
of the details,” she said. A swift jerk of her head told them she was
addressing Chris. “You might be able to trace her from that.”

Chris nodded, showing no sign of discomfiture. “Thanks.

Appreciate that.”

“I’ll get her fingerprints and dental records for you, too.”
“We should find something with those.”
With a scrape of his chair, Dion got to his feet. When Jag looked

at him, he realized his breed partner was furious. Dion’s pale eyes
snapped with fury, and his brow was creased with a ferocious frown.
“She’s not a thing, she’s a person. She’s been hit by a car, separated
from her children, and she wakes up in a strange hospital. Tell you
what, I’m going to show her a little Texan hospitality. I’m taking her
and the babies home with me if they’re well enough.”

He turned his head and glared at Jag. “Any objections? Because

I’m telling you now, yours are the only ones I’ll listen to.” He flicked
a glance at Trinity. “She’s ready to be discharged, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Trinity blinked up at Dion. “I was going to keep her in an

extra night because we have the bed and she doesn’t have anywhere
to go. But really, she only needs to come back to have the cast
removed in a couple of weeks. Her diet needs watching, but as long as
it’s a good, varied one, her deficiencies will be sorted out.”

Dion nodded. “Good enough. We have a few things she can use,

and we’ll stop at a boutique and pick her up some clothes.”

Fascinated by the thought of the laid-back, anti-fashion Dion

barging around one of the chi-chi boutiques that decorated
Goldclaw’s shopping area, Jag began to think it was worth having her
to stay just to see that.

40

Em Ashcroft

A thought sprang into his mind. Yes, that would work, and he

might get a chance to ease this terrible tautness that had him by the
balls. Apart from that, he might do the community some good. “She
needs rest, and we can give her that.” Dion had recently had a hot tub
installed. Jag had never had much time for those kinds of luxuries. He
had a bath or a shower to get clean, and if he wanted a swim, they had
a lake he could use.

Hot tubs and saunas—he couldn’t see the point. But Dion had

wanted it, so they had the thing.

“And we can keep an eye on her. She’s going to have to hitch a

ride or steal a car, or walk five miles, to get away from our place.
She’s not likely to do that without us getting wind of it. Especially
with two babies in tow.”

“They’re the important things,” Chris put in. “Babies are so

precious to us. They have to be protected.” He nodded. “The Lazy R
is a good place for them to be safe.”

Dion went to the door. “You guys sit here and plan. I’m going to

do the important thing. The right thing.” He shot Jag a glance as he
grabbed his hat from the stand by the door. “See you at home. I won’t
wait up.”

Then he was gone, and Jag realized he had a breed partner in the

worst mood he’d seen him in for years.

On the Prowl

41

Chapter Four

Mia jumped in shock when the door to her room burst open and a

man with hair so blond she’d call it silver strode in. He had a cowboy
hat in his hand and wore worn jeans and a checkered cotton shirt,
open at the neck. He had silver eyes, and he scared her to death.

Had she seen him before? Assuredly not. Grabbing the sheet, she

sat up and hauled it to her neck. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Dion,” he said briefly. “Dion Goldclaw.” That meant he was a

shape-shifter. Only shape-shifters and their spouses used the name of
the place where they lived as their last name. And being Goldclaw, he
must be a tiger.

Shit. She didn’t know how she felt. Having seen the adorable tiger

cubs she’d given birth to, her feelings toward the terrible but beautiful
killing machines they’d grow into had undergone some change, but
not that much. “You’re a tiger,” she said, and immediately felt stupid.

“Sure am, ma’am. And a rancher. You’re coming home with me.

I’m breed partner to the man you met earlier, Jag. Real name
Jagennatha.” Her eyes widened, and he grinned, his face going
through a transformation from fierce to charismatic. That smile did
things to her insides that should be illegal. “Had an Indian mother.
Indian as in from India.”

“Oh.” That would explain the other man’s dark good looks. She’d

assumed his skin tone was a tan, but maybe not. And his hair was
black, as black as the shiny satin on her favorite cocktail dress. She
hadn’t thought of that dress for years, but now she wondered what had
happened to it—what had happened to all her stuff, for that matter.

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Em Ashcroft

Maybe she’d have a chance to find out. After she’d ensured the safety
of her babies. “You want me on your ranch?”

“Yep.” He paused and scratched his head. His hair was cut, but

not in the neat, clipped style of the dark man, Jag. His was more
tousled and a little longer, lying in unruly whorls.

“Do you plan to take my children? They are mine, and I’m their

mother. I won’t be separated from them for much longer.”

“You don’t have to be. We’ll collect them on the way out. I

checked with the medics, and they’re good with it.” He glanced at the
chair where Jag had slept, and his brow cleared. “Great, Trinity left
you some clothes. You’ll need more, but we have a few things, and
we can shop later.”

“What about the babies? They need something.” As always, her

first thoughts were for her children.

“Shit.” He paused. “How well do you feel?”
“Much better.” Better than she’d felt for years, if truth be told.

She’d slept uninterrupted, eaten food that actually tasted good, and
she’d received the right treatment for her injuries—no cruelty, no
rough treatment. It was like walking into the light after five years of
darkness.

But she still wasn’t capable of running. She still felt shaky and

unsure. Annoyingly so, since she’d spent years working toward the
opportunity that had finally presented itself, and gaining the courage
to do it.

“I want my babies,” she repeated.
Dion nodded and left the room. She gave a cry of delight when he

brought them back, one shawl-swaddled baby in each arm. They were
bawling, but they stopped when they saw her. The one on the left
sniffed, and she reached for him. “I called him Snub,” she said,
touching his nose and cradling him close. She swung her legs over the
side of the bed. She’d visited the bathroom several times since they’d
brought her here, so she’d gained her equilibrium. Five years of
inactivity had made her weak.

On the Prowl

43

“What kind of name is that?” he said, laughter in his voice. He

took a seat next to the bed.

She looked up with a smile. “The only one he had. If they’d

known I’d named them, they’d have taken my babies away, so I never
said it aloud. The other one is Freckle. He has a freckle just above his
navel. It’s adorable.”

“When we get back,” he said, “you are going to tell us all about it.

I don’t like what I’m hearing here. But I want to get you home and
settled.” He paused. “You’ll stay in the house with Jag and me, not
one of the cabins. They’re not suitable for babies. They’re precious,
you know.”

“Oh, I know,” she said softly, touching Snub’s face.
“I mean, some people would kill for them.”
She refused to accept his implication, adding a loving one of her

own. “I know that, too.”

He shook his head and grinned. “I’ll leave you to change. I’ll be

just outside the door. I got baby seats for the car, so we’re set. We can
stop at the store to get you the basics.”

“What, you don’t have a supply of diapers at the house?”
Another grin. She wished he wouldn’t do that. That expression

was far too—seductive.

There, she’d said it, if only to herself. This man was hugely

attractive to her. So was his breed partner. Five years in the facility
had given her time to assimilate the terminology, the way shape-
shifters worked. She understood what breed partners were and how
they usually, though not always, stayed together. They had
breedmates, one woman between two of them, because it took two
breed partners to make a baby—seed from two men.

He brought in two baby seats, the kind that could be fastened into

a car and carried out after—the kind that let babies stay asleep.

Tenderly, she tucked Snub into one of the chairs and watched

Dion do the same with Freckle. “Peter and John,” she said softly.

44

Em Ashcroft

“What?” They were so close now that his warm breath puffed on

her face.

“I–I always liked those names, but I never said them aloud. Snub

is Peter and Freckle is John.”

He said nothing, just looked at her. She gasped, and the smile left

his lips, his eyes beginning to slide closed. Was he going to kiss her?

No, that couldn’t happen. Her heart pounding, she jerked back.

She must have been mistaken. She looked awful. How could anyone
want her like this?

Hastily he got to his feet. “I’ll wait outside,” he said and gave her

a crooked smile, self-deprecatory. “You can’t get away.”

That was an odd thing to say. “I don’t want to. Why would I? I

was trying to get here.”

He turned at the door and gave her an odd look but didn’t say

anything. He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

At least clothes hadn’t changed drastically in five years. Although

her wrist gave her a bit of trouble, she managed to get the bra fastened
and the snap of the jeans closed. They were the trickiest parts,
because tying the laces on the sneakers didn’t need any pressure.

Walking into the bathroom to collect the pathetic collection of

toiletries she could now call hers and to brush her teeth, she reveled in
the feel of actual clothes. The sneakers felt great, structured, holding
her foot, instead of sloppy slippers or socks. The jeans hugged her
body, loose at the top around her waist, her hip bones prominent just
above the belt. She’d told the nurse her bra size, not thinking about
the weight she’d lost, and her breasts were too loose in the bra, but
she didn’t care. It felt great.

Carrying the plastic bag with the toothbrush, paste, and soap in it,

she called out to him. “I’m ready!”

The babies were asleep now, their heads tilted, frowns furrowing

their adorable features. Shooting an alarmed glance at the babies,
Dion put his finger to his lips.

On the Prowl

45

Laughing, she shook her head. “Once they’re asleep, that’s it. It’s

a bad idea to tiptoe around babies. Let them get used to a normal
amount of noise.”

“They’ve been very well cared for.”
The expression on his face was unguarded, and wonderfully

tender. Her heart went out to him at that moment, and she saw him as
a man trying to do his best in a difficult situation. It had been hard to
see that in his breed partner. Yes, she’d go willingly with him. She
trusted him. She’d had too few people in her life recently to trust, and
she felt a smidgeon of the worry eating up her nerves leave her.

“I did my best, once I got them back.”
He shot her a curious look, but she didn’t feel like explaining

herself. She needed more rest and a deal of thought to be able to
explain the horrific events in her recent past. The last thing she
wanted to do was to melt into a puddle of tears and sob out half-
explanations. If she wanted the people of Goldclaw to help her, she
had to explain herself without emotion and as succinctly as she could.
She’d always acted that way, and she wouldn’t behave like a
hysterical victim now.

So she bent to pick up her bag and follow him out of the room. He

looked pained, but he had a baby carrier in each hand. The bag had
precious little in it, just the toiletries she’d just packed and the book
she was reading. But she’d become used to having nothing to her
name, she told herself, when tears pricked her eyes. They were just a
reaction to the horrible things that had happened to her coming to an
end. It was only five years. What was that in a lifetime?

Five years too long, that was what.
He led her to a big pickup parked outside the hospital. When he

glanced back at her, she was smiling, although a moment before she’d
recoiled with that reaction she’d had before, the sense of space after
spending so long in one small room. She masked it, and after seeing
the babies safely fastened in the back, she climbed up to the big seat
at the front of the car. He got in and checked her safety belt. “Okay?”

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Em Ashcroft

“Sure.”
He drove off. She watched his hands, roped with tendons, marked

by calluses, strong and capable. He could turn those hands into huge
tiger claws at will, but that fascinated her, the idea of claws and fur.
Just like her babies.

Apart from glancing at her occasionally, he drove in silence until

he pulled in at the car lot of a large supermarket. “We need supplies,
don’t we? And you need something to wear. Come on.”

She hated to have to rely on him for essential supplies. “You’ll

give me an account of what you spend, won’t you?”

His mouth flattened in displeasure. “No, I fucking will not. We

can afford it. You can’t right now. End of discussion.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to—”
He covered her hand with his. Sensation shot through her. “Count

it as a learning curve. As for clothes”—his eyes gleamed—“you have
a choice. We keep the house warm, so it’s dress or go naked. We’re
shape-shifters. We’re used to naked, but I’m guessing you’re not?”

The thought of this hunk of a man naked made Mia’s mouth dry

up. She swallowed. “You can get me a few things. Thanks. But not
much, then.”

“And we want you decent in front of the babies, don’t we?”
That implied that he didn’t much care if she was naked in front of

him. She’d strip in a minute if it meant he did, too. Secure in the
knowledge that he couldn’t want her in this state, she actually
considered the prospect. No makeup, hair straggly and frizzy, pale-
faced and skinny, what man would want her like this? Oh, yeah. And
didn’t she deserve some compensation for what had happened to her?
Didn’t somebody owe her something? It seemed unfair that she
walked away from five years’ forced and unfair captivity with
nothing.

With delight, she recognized the beginning of the return of the old

Mia. The sassy, don’t-give-a-fuck Mia from five years ago. She’d
thought her gone forever. She smiled.

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47

Dion raised a brow. “Why the grin?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that, you know, I’m here, not there, and I have

my babies.” She leaned back, afraid he’d seen too much of her true
self, and fiddled with her seat belt.

“That certainly gives you something to smile about. But it didn’t

cause that grin. I like it. I want to see more of it. Come on. We’ll have
to take the babies in, so I’ll go get the cart and you unhook them from
the car. Don’t move them. I’ll do that.” He grabbed his brown Stetson
and left the car. That hat made him look even better, rakish and
powerful.

When they were getting the babies into the cart, Snub woke up,

but he didn’t grizzle. He’d probably never seen anything more
interesting in his life. Freckle continued to slumber soundly, his
mouth pushed into a cute banana shape by his position in the seat.

Dion took control of the cart and rolled it inside.
Mia gazed around. “I used to dream about supermarkets. Just

walking in and collecting everything I needed.”

His mouth quirked at one corner. “And yet I hate the places.

Rather walk on a bed of nails than come here. Let’s find the baby
section first and get what these tykes need.”

Mia snagged another cart. They were going to need it. When she

returned, Dion raised a brow but made no comment. She found the
baby section, a place she’d never had cause to visit before, but she
found what she needed. She filled the cart she had easily. Dion
watched her, arms folded, a pose that put the roped muscles of his
forearms into mouthwatering view. “This is only for immediate
needs,” he pointed out. “Do you think we should have stuff
delivered?”

“Many people do,” she said, and put another pack of diapers in,

just for good measure. She led the way to the clothing department and
found some onesies. That was all they actually needed. She found
shawls, because it was coming up to summer and they wouldn’t need
anything warmer until after the summer. They’d have grown by then.

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Em Ashcroft

Dion added four T-shirts, adorable things with cute slogans on them.
That meant they needed leggings, as well.

“Shit.” Dion pushed back his hat and scratched his head. “Who’d

have thought two tiny babies would need so much stuff? I’ll take
these to the checkout and load them up in the car, otherwise we’ll
have a train of carts. You carry on shopping and I’ll get back to you.”

She did as he requested, and by the time he returned with a fresh,

empty cart, she’d found the formula, bottles, and sterilizer. She’d
have finished there, but he stopped her, touching her arm. “Now you.”

“I can manage.”
He was having none of it. Leading the way, he took her to the

section with the female things. “Frou-frou” he called it. Resisting the
temptation to empty the lotions and potions into the cart, she picked
out shampoo, conditioner, a toothbrush and paste, and the unperfumed
soap she liked. They’d changed the packaging, but it was the same
product. She smoothed her finger over the package as she placed it in
the cart.

“Why did you do that?” he asked. Fuck, the man missed nothing.
“I haven’t used it for a while, and it’s my favorite.”
He frowned at her selection. “Don’t women have other things?”

He flicked a glance along the shelves and picked up a blue jar. “What
about this?”

Moisturizer. Oh, bliss. And body lotion, and bath oil, and hair

products. “Don’t start me.”

“Why not? Get them. Go on, do it.”
He phrased it like a dare. How could she resist? Anyhow, she

could always put them back. While he scrolled through messages on
his phone, she got busy and loaded the cart with the products she’d
dreamed about for the last five years.

He put the phone away on the holster at his waist. “I’ll get one of

the office phones for you. We have a contract for the ranch, and we
get a bunch of phones as part of the deal. So don’t go thinking that
will cost anything, because it won’t.”

On the Prowl

49

He stuck out his chin belligerently, daring her to refuse him.

When she reached for the cart to return some of the items she’d
dropped in it, aware that her spree wasn’t necessary, he whipped the
cart away before she could grab anything back. Snub glared at her, as
if he was on Dion’s side. Freckle made a snuffling sound, the
precursor to him waking up.

The twins could be terrors if they were awake at the same time.

When one started to cry, the other did, too. Aware they had to hurry if
she was to get them fed, she shoved the cart away, following Dion to
the clothes section. “Get some jeans,” he said. “What size shoe are
you?”

“Eight and a half.”
“We’ve probably got some boots that’ll fit you. Okay, T-shirts,

socks, underwear, sneakers, but don’t get much.”

He didn’t explain why he said that, but she found out after they’d

left the supermarket and he pulled up outside a boutique.

Mia put her foot down. “I can’t go in there. Not looking like this.”

And not using his money. They’d spent enough and she’d bought
enough at the supermarket to last her for a while.

“You look gorgeous.” He actually sounded sincere.
“You’re out of your mind.” He must be. She looked awful. She

was bruised and scratched, and she hadn’t seen a bottle of conditioner
or a hair stylist—any kind of beautician, for that matter—for five
years. If she had time later, she’d treat her hair to the hot oil
conditioner she’d recklessly packed in the cart Dion had held out of
reach.

“Not a bit of it.” He smiled and touched his hat. “That bruise

hardly shows, and the rest of you is a man’s dream.”

He must be really starved of women if he thought that. And did he

really not notice the sidelong glances he got from women wherever
they went? Females slowed down when they walked past him and
took a good look. She’d do that, too, if she were them.

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Em Ashcroft

Maybe he was just trying to build her confidence. Yes, that was it.

Because he sure couldn’t mean it for real. She sighed, but then moved
on. She had so much to be thankful for.

The babies were whimpering now, preparing for full-on attack.
This time she’d remembered pacifiers. She broke them out of the

packs and, guiltily aware that they weren’t properly sterilized, popped
them into her mouth before she put them in the babies’.

The silence was profound. “Hey, I didn’t know you could do

that,” he said quietly. He stared at the babies in fascination.

“It will keep them quiet for a while, but they’re getting hungry.

They’ll need a change soon, as well.”

He groaned. “Fuck, I’d forgotten that.”
Right on cue, one of the babies farted. She smiled indulgently at

Snub. “They haven’t. How long will it take to get back to the ranch?”

“About half an hour.” He paused. “It’s going to be rough, isn’t

it?”

“Maybe. We can’t stop anywhere else, truly. Let’s get going.”
Once he had them in the truck and on the road, the miracle

happened and they fell asleep, the pacifiers dropping from their
mouths. “I always feel guilty using them,” she said, “but I had no
choice.” She didn’t elaborate, but recalled how she’d been told to shut
the babies up, or they’d find somebody who could. And they weren’t
joking. The worst tormentor, the guy calling himself Brad, had been
the cruelest.

She needn’t think of Brad anymore. He wore glasses, was around

six feet tall, and had a craggy face some women might call handsome.
She wouldn’t. Knowing how perceptive Dion was, she didn’t tell him
anything and repressed her shudder. At least he wasn’t the father of
her babies. He couldn’t be because he was human, not a shifter.

Dion drove steadily but carefully, avoiding any obstacle that

might jolt the truck. “You must be tired,” he said. “After we’ve seen
to the babies you might like an early night.”

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51

“I can hardly believe it,” she answered. “I mean, that I actually got

away and reached Goldclaw. It looks perfectly normal.”

“It is, to us.” He glanced at her, grinning. “It looks like every

other town in Texas because at one time we didn’t want to draw
attention to ourselves. Oh, people knew about us, but in general we
left them alone and they did the same for us. We don’t have signs on
our foreheads saying, ‘Danger, tigers!’, you know.”

“You’re a tiger,” she said dreamily.
“Guess so. You’ve seen us before. You must have.” He didn’t

need to indicate the babies for her to get his meaning.

“Sort of. No, no, I haven’t.”
His glance didn’t hold a smile this time. “You will explain that,

won’t you?”

“Not now. I’m tired.” She still felt ashamed of her role. She knew

intellectually that it wasn’t her fault, that none of what happened to
her was her fault, but she still had a sense of deep and abiding guilt.
Her only excuse was that she needed to get her babies safe. While the
Grid wouldn’t have killed them, they’d have taken them away from
her. “How’s the security on the ranch? The babies—people will be
after them.”

“Not just the ones who were chasing you,” he said. “In answer to

your question, security is good. Better than it used to be, in fact.
Cameras everywhere, and alarms, and shit like that. And the house is
five miles from any boundary marker, so we can see them coming.
We’ll take care of you.” He reached out and touched her knee before
moving his hand to the stick to shift gear—a fleeting contact, but she
felt it everywhere, all over her body.

“So did you join the Grid?” he asked, casually, as if the Grid was

like the Rotary Club or the local Residents’ Association.

“I didn’t,” she answered matter-of-factly. “They gave me that

mark.”

“I thought it was their mark of honor.”

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Em Ashcroft

“I had the babies. They probably thought it was. It was more like a

brand. I was theirs, you see. They owned me. Trinity promised me I
could get it lasered off. I want it gone.” Speaking about the horror like
this made it more bearable, more distant. She could do it, if they just
listened, but she wanted to think about it first and get her facts in
order.

He caught his breath then let it out, slowly. “I knew it was

something like that. I told Jag it was.”

Relief flooded her when she realized he accepted her words.

Because of that tattoo, she expected people to distrust her. Maybe he
wanted to believe her for reasons of his own, or maybe he wanted
something else. She hadn’t had sex for five years, not really. She’d
happily break her drought with this man—if he wanted her, which she
still doubted. All that talk about being gorgeous and desirable—he
was being polite, Although she’d never heard that Texan hospitality
stretched that far. Still, it was nice of him to try to bolster her
confidence.

They swung onto a private road, much bumpier than the main

highway, but still smoother than the one she’d traversed last night,
and then under an archway that proudly proclaimed the LAZY R
RANCH.

The road became smooth again, after they’d jolted over a cattle

grid, and then swept around, bisecting several swathes of grassland
with cows contentedly grazing on it, before they approached a large,
sprawling house. Smaller log cabins were clustered on either side,
looking weathered, as if they’d always been there, but from what
Dion had said, they had only been built this winter. While she had
been going through hell. Not that they knew that.

A garage door opened at his approach, and they drove under it

into the large space that held a couple of motor bikes, two quad
vehicles, and golf carts, and an empty space. That would presumably
be for whatever Jag was driving. “We have another garage on the

On the Prowl

53

other side,” he said as he cut the engine and the door closed behind
them.

They were plunged into darkness. Her heart throbbed, pounding

against her ribs, and she screamed, her natural reaction to the sudden
cut off of light.

Warm, strong arms closed around her, and she snuggled close to

his big body, her instinctive reaction to take shelter. “Hey,” he said.
“It’s okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” And he kissed the top of her
head, a small pressure that couldn’t be anything else.

The lights came on again, this time the artificial ones above them.

Mia pushed away, blushing, and turned to the door in preparation to
scramble down. That moment of intimacy was so perfect, but she
couldn’t allow it to happen again. She needed to keep herself strong
for the babies.

He was out of his seat and around the truck before she could get

down. Placing his hands on either side of her waist, he lifted her
down. “You’ve been hurt. You’ve got to take care. This floor is hard.”
The garage had the cement floor she recalled was typical. She might
have tumbled, but she’d have only added to her collection of bruises,
and she could take that. But his tenderness melted her. She stared at
him, until a whimper from the back put her in mind of what she
planned to do.

Dion unfastened Snub and lifted his chair down, then went around

and did the same for Freckle. Mia picked up Snub with her uninjured
hand and waited for Dion to take her outside to one of the cabins.
Instead, he opened an inner door and led the way into the house. The
small room that held boots and outdoor clothing led to a larger
room—a much larger room.

Mia put Snub down gently and gazed around. “This is gorgeous,”

she said in wonder.

The long room held comfortable seats, a big TV screen, and large

windows with views over the ranch. On one side was the front of the
house, where they’d just come from, and from the other, acres of land,

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Em Ashcroft

a few trees, and on the right, a fenced-in area where horses ran.
“Wow.”

“Thanks.” He moved so quietly she hadn’t heard him come up

behind her. She started, but he put his hands on her waist to steady
her, then dropped them again. She wanted to lean back so he enclosed
her as he had in the truck, but she couldn’t do that. His casual touches
were examples of his friendship, not any desire for her. He wanted to
befriend her, probably had a knight-in-shining-armor complex.

“That’s a big sky.” The biggest she could ever recall seeing—

blue, with white wisps of cloud floating lazily across it.

“They say that about Texas. Yes, it is.”
“Were you born here?”
“And bred. This is a family ranch.”
“What about your breed partner?”
He paused before he said, “When we discovered we were

partners, he moved in here. He had money, but he hadn’t put down
roots, so he came here. Ask him to tell you the rest.”

She couldn’t imagine asking the intimidating Jag anything. “Is he

coming home?”

“He might be here already.”
As if on cue, the sound of approaching feet came to them. Turning

to face the source of the sound, Mia realized the sound of the
footsteps weren’t big enough for Jag. A woman came into view and
entered through an open door at the far end of the room. She was
wiping her hands on an apron. “Hi! Jag called and said you were
bringing a guest. Is this our first visitor?”

“Caroline, this is Mia. And her babies—”
Caroline surged forward and stood before the pair of chairs. “Oh,

aren’t they the cutest things?” Bright-eyed, she grinned at Mia. “Are
they yours?”

She nodded. “I call them Snub and Freckle.”
“Unusual names. Still, I guess people call their kids all kind of

things these days.” She had a voluptuous figure, shining blonde hair,

On the Prowl

55

and amber eyes. She was the picture of health. Mia became acutely
aware of her skinny, underfed, undernourished state. She clasped her
hands tightly together.

“This is the woman who was being chased by the Grid yesterday,”

Dion said. “They crashed into her.”

“Oh my! And you say it was the Grid chasing her?” Caroline’s

brow creased into a frown. “Bastards. They could have killed these
little darlings.”

“And Mia.”
“Yes, Mia, too.”
“They’re shape-shifters,” Dion said quietly.
Caroline stopped gazing at the children and stared up at his face.

“Cubs? Oh, that’s amazing! What will happen to them?”

“They’re mine,” Mia said fiercely.
Dion moved closer to her. “Yes they are, and nobody’s going to

take them from you now. You’ll stay here in the house where we can
make sure you’re safe. The Grid might come after you and the babies,
too.”

Because she was Mia, or because she was the mother of shape-

shifter children? Mia was afraid she knew the answer to that, so she
wouldn’t ask it. She’d be sleeping close to the sexiest men she’d ever
seen in her life. Admitting that fact made her feel better. At least she
could be honest with herself.

Caroline smiled at Mia. Mia tried not to show her jealousy. After

all, Caroline could be sleeping with Dion and Jag. They’d never told
her that they didn’t have a woman. If they were mated with someone,
they’d have the rings around their wrists that denoted it, but there was
no reason they couldn’t have a woman or two while they were waiting
for their breedmate to come along.

“This house used to be a lot bigger, but parts of it were

demolished recently,” Caroline explained now.

“We had a habit of building on to the house when we needed

something extra,” Dion said. “After all, we’re not hurting for space.

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Em Ashcroft

But we let the builders tidy up a little. Now the house is about the size
it was supposed to be.”

Caroline tsked. “It was hell to clean. I had two women just to help

me. Now it’s me and a woman who comes in once a week. Much
better. But Robyn’s suite would have been ideal for Mia.”

“Why?” Dion said icily.
Caroline shrugged. “The babies are going to cry in the night. They

could have their own place.”

“They still can,” Dion said. “There’s one place in this house that’s

built for babies.”

Caroline gasped and jerked her head up. “You can’t mean…”
“Why not?” Dion moved away and picked up Freckle. “It’s going

unused, and never likely to get used. It’s the ideal place. Mia and the
babies need protecting. Even if the Grid weren’t after her, the babies
are precious.”

“They are.” Caroline’s attention went back to the children. “Very

precious. But we need to get them fed, don’t we? I didn’t have
children of my own in ignorance, you know.” She glanced at Mia. “I
had human babies, but they’re very precious to me.” She didn’t have
mating rings, either. So was it Dion and Jag who fathered her
children? Shape-shifters could father human children without a bond.
Had she intruded on a family here?

She needed the shelter, but she had to go very carefully. She

couldn’t afford to upset Caroline, nor would she want to. She looked
to be older than Jag and Dion, but where was the harm in that?

“Come to the kitchen,” Caroline said. “Dion, bring the baby

feeding stuff there. I’ll show Mia where everything is and we can feed
and change them.” She glanced at Mia, smiling. “We can use the
bathroom for changing, so don’t get bothered about hygiene.
Everything is there.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Smiling, Dion strolled away to the door they’d

entered through as Caroline took Mia out the other way.

On the Prowl

57

Along a short hallway lay a bright, sunny kitchen, the floor

flagged in polished natural stone, the big table in the middle bearing
ample scores and stains on its surface, indicating long years of use.
“The hands eat here,” Caroline explained. “There’s a smaller kitchen
on the other side of the house that the guys sometimes use, but this is
where you’ll find everything you need. We don’t have high chairs, so
we’ll keep them in the rockers.” The carrier chairs rocked when the
supports at the back were released.

Freckle spat out his pacifier and wailed. “He’s hungry,” Mia

explained.

“Lord, I can tell that.” Caroline bent and released the straps

holding Freckle in place. She lifted him with the expertise of a woman
used to handling babies and put him to her shoulder, patting his back.
“How old are they?”

“Six months.” Mia did the same to Snub, who, unlike his brother,

didn’t stop complaining. She had to raise her voice or shut up. She
chose the latter.

Dion strode into the kitchen, piled high with shopping. He

dumped a pack of diapers on the floor and took the rest over to the
counter nearest the huge refrigerator. “Where do you want these?”
Unlike Mia, he had no trouble raising his voice.

“There will be fine. Thanks,” Mia said.
Without ceremony, Caroline put Freckle into Dion’s arms and

went over to the counter. Dion stared at the baby, dumbfounded, and
then the kid opened his mouth. But he didn’t yell. He stuck his thumb
in it and carried on watching Dion.

“You’ve got a real connection there,” Caroline said. She located

the formula, the bottles, and the sterilizing solution. Without reading
the instructions on the packs, she got busy preparing two feeds. She’d
obviously done this before. “Do they take solid food yet?”

“Yes. Baby food. I’d like to try them on pureed fresh food, but I

didn’t have the chance. But I give them a bottle at night and
sometimes during the day,” Mia called back.

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“Did you feed them yourself?”
She paused, pretending at first not to hear, but she couldn’t avoid

the issue. “No. They were bottle fed from birth. They took them away
from me after they were born. They only brought them back when
they didn’t do so well, but by then my milk had dried up.”

For some reason Snub shut up, as if someone had clapped a hand

over his mouth. He nestled against Mia’s shoulder in the way she
usually loved, but the bleakness in her soul overwhelmed her.

Caroline turned around, and Dion stared at her. “They took them

away?”

Mia nodded miserably. “I didn’t even know if they were alive or

dead, but about a day later somebody came and mentioned that they
were alive. They said they were pleased with me.” That meant she got
to stay alive.

Dion spoke through gritted teeth. “You will tell us what happened.

Every word.”

She nodded. “Later?”
“Sure. Tomorrow.”
Oh, great. Something to look forward to there.
But now she had to concentrate. With Caroline’s able help, they

got the babies fed, winded, and changed into fresh diapers and
onesies. When they were fragrant with baby lotion and full of milk,
she gave Snub to Dion and took Freckle’s carrier herself, taking them
upstairs to wherever he’d decided to put them.

Caroline didn’t go with them.
Mia had her babies, people who believed her story and would help

her, and a place to stay. It was all so fantastic she could hardly believe
it. Add to that two unbelievably sexy men who wanted to protect her
from the people she’d spent the last five years in terror of, and life
couldn’t get much better.

Or could it?

On the Prowl

59

Chapter Five

“She likes you.” Once out of earshot of the kitchen, Mia said what

seemed to be oblivious to Dion. But she’d seen the glances Caroline
sent Dion’s way and the way she took every opportunity to stand
close to him. To get into his space.

At the top of the staircase he turned. He raised a brow. “Likes

me?”

“Wants you. Is she free?”
He sighed. “Sadly, yes. She’s a widow. Her husband died three

years ago. He was a mortal, but they were deeply in love.”

“So she’s a shifter and her children are…”
“Humans, yes. Not all the people in Goldclaw are shape-shifters.

Even back before the decision to integrate, a few humans ventured
in.” He turned abruptly and led the way up a wide hallway to where
three double-fronted doors faced them. He opened the middle one and
went inside.

She ventured onto a deep-pile, blue carpet, wishing she’d removed

her shoes. She wanted the feel of that woolly lusciousness between
her toes. She’d been deprived of tactile sensations, and she wanted to
make the most of them now.

The room was a luxury bedroom, with a huge, low bed covered by

a deep-blue throw and a breathtaking view over the fields. Dusk was
settling over the landscape—two days since the men from the Grid
had tried to kill her. She still couldn’t believe she’d gotten away.

Dion didn’t hesitate, but walked across the room to a door on the

left-hand side. She’d assumed it was a closet until she saw the room
inside. A nursery. It was empty, everything neatly in place, but

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Em Ashcroft

shining clean. The furnishings were too modern to be Dion’s
childhood room. “What is this?” she said quietly, fearing the worst.

“An unfulfilled dream,” he said. All emotion had been leached

from his voice. From that, she realized this wasn’t a good story. She
remained silent. “For our breedmate and our children. We moved too
fast, as it happened.”

“What do you mean?” She didn’t want her children sleeping in a

room that had an unhappy history. She’d had too much of that
recently. “What happened to the baby?”

“There was no baby,” he said quietly. She’d never seen him so

devoid of emotion, and it chilled her. “Our breedmate was killed on
the way to the wedding.” He turned and showed her his back while he
made a show of unclipping Snub from the chair and lifting him out.
“We’ll order another crib tomorrow. Can they manage in the same
one for tonight?”

“Wait a minute. She died? Was it—like me? Another car crash?”
“No.” He held Snub close and turned around. “An air crash. Our

bride-to-be and her family were travelling down from Montana for the
wedding. Her name was Anna.”

When she glanced at his wrists, he followed her gaze and his

mouth turned up in a wry smile. “No, we didn’t get the mating rings.
She was eighteen, and we weren’t much older. We were lucky, we
thought because we found our breedmate early. That was what people
told us. So we decided to wait until we were all ready. No pre-
wedding sex. Oh, we made out, but we always stopped. Out of respect
to her, we thought. So we never made the ultimate bond.”

“I thought breedmates recognized each other for sure when they

had sex.”

He shrugged. “Usually, they do. We were exceptions. We knew.

Very occasionally, it happens that way. So we courted her, and won
her, and arranged a big wedding. Just as well we had the church
booked, but the wedding turned into a funeral.”

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61

When she opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “Please don’t. I

know you’re sorry. Everybody is. I’m sorry to sound weary, but so
much sympathy does that sometimes.”

She understood that. To someone else, he might have sounded

churlish. Expressions of sympathy could wear a person down, even
instill an odd sense of anger. It wouldn’t change anything. “Well, I am
sorry, as who wouldn’t be? How long ago did it happen?”

“Twelve years.” He stood completely still, the baby in his arms

like a protective shield. If not for that, she’d have gone to him, tried to
hold him as much for herself as for him, because such a tragedy
hardly bore thinking about.

“This has been here for twelve years?”
He glanced around. “Sorry. Should we find something else?

Nobody has ever used it. We just shut it up. We redecorated the
bedroom, but we weren’t hurting for space, so we just closed the door
on this and let the cleaners in every so often.”

She suspected it was more than space that mattered here. It was

lovingly decorated, in shades of yellow and green, cheerful and
practical. To her eyes it was perfect, except for the lack of an extra
crib, but it felt cold, the tragedy alive here. She decided to take the
practical route. “The babies can cope in the one crib.”

The cot wasn’t made up, so she made herself busy hunting for

sheets and a cover for the baby comforter. The babies slumbered
peacefully.

“No,” he said abruptly. “This won’t do. Just for tonight, okay?”
“It’s fine. Please. You’re being so good to me, and I’ll be gone

soon, won’t I? So it seems a waste.”

“Will you? Where will you go?”
She smoothed the sheet over the mattress. “Back home, maybe.

My friends probably think I’m dead.” Her voice shook.

That seemed to bring the emotion flooding back. Dion placed a

hand on her shoulder. She was as close to breaking now as she ever
was, but she was afraid that if she started crying now, she’d never

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Em Ashcroft

stop. Floods of tears beckoned. They never did any good. She’d shed
enough after her capture. “You should call them,” he said. “Now.”

“Maybe after I put the babies down.”
The cot was ready. Snub didn’t stir when she put him down.

Freckle snuffled but then turned over onto his stomach, his usual way
of sleeping. The cot was too small for them, but it was safe and it
would do.

Dion took a small white object and turned it on, grunting when the

red light came on. “Baby monitor,” he explained laconically, and
handed her the receiver. She’d never had reason to use one before.

This room was oppressive, for all its cheerful furnishing. She

didn’t like it, but she wouldn’t let him know.

“Come next door.” He took her back to the large bedroom. “We

had this completely redecorated, and we sometimes use it for a guest
room.” It didn’t have the same atmosphere as the one she detected
next door, but she was still walking on proverbial eggshells. “Will this
do for you?”

“It’s lovely. I’ve never slept in such a beautiful room in my life.”

The large windows had a wonderful view, giving her the sense of
space she’d yearned for. When he touched a button at the side, the
drapes swept closed, enclosing them in spacious intimacy.

“That bed is huge—oh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth,

feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as they turned red. Of course it was
huge. It was meant for three. It would have been the marital bed. But
he’d said they’d redecorated in here. It didn’t have the same
mausoleum-style quality as the nursery.

“I’m next door,” he said, refraining from commenting on her last

remark.

She felt so guilty, she stepped forward and threw her arms around

him. “I’m so sorry. About everything. Your loss, my tactlessness—
everything.”

His body pressed, warm and comforting, against her, and she

wanted to weep again when he closed his arms around her. She hadn’t

On the Prowl

63

felt that kind of simple closeness for so long she’d almost forgotten
what it felt like.

With the intention of thanking him, she went on tiptoe, looked up,

and aimed a kiss at his cheek. So it was probably unfortunate that he
was turning to look down at the same moment and she got his lips.

The initial mmph of surprise from both of them morphed so fast

Mia couldn’t have put the marker where one emotion finished and
another started. Her intended kiss of sympathy became something else
entirely.

His hold on her tightened, and he touched her lips with his tongue,

outlining them before she opened them. Then he plunged inside,
sweeping away the objections hovering at the back of her mind.

Heaven. He swept her right up, lifting her off her feet, his arm

tightly around her, making her gasp into his mouth. Hunger entered
her, reminding her of what she’d missed, although the anger that
usually accompanied that reminder was absent. Just yearning to make
up for lost time. She ached for him, her pussy dampening with need,
softening and opening, ready to take him.

Yes, this was what she wanted. When he touched her cheek,

cupping it and tilting it to just the right angle, she whimpered, then
moved her hand to try to find the buckle on his leather belt.

Her wince when she caught the edge of the plaster on her arm

made him pull back. He stared down at her, eyes dilated. “Well,
damn,” he said. “I knew you were gorgeous, but not that much.
You’re irresistible, lady.”

No longer did she deny what he said, but heard it with disbelief.

“Me?”

“You. There’s something special about you. I felt it the minute I

looked into the car, but I put it down to seeing a woman who needed
help. It wasn’t that, was it?”

And she’d gone to him when she thought he needed comfort. He

was right. It went further than sympathy. “No, it wasn’t that. Dion, I
haven’t had a man in a very long time.”

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Em Ashcroft

“Except your breedmates,” he said heavily. “You do have them,

don’t you?” He lifted her hand. “I don’t know why you don’t have the
markings, but you couldn’t have given birth to shifters otherwise.”

She couldn’t tell him. She didn’t want that look of shocked

sympathy to replace the smoldering desire in his gaze. “I guess,” she
said lamely. “But no, I don’t have the marks.”

When he tried to pull away, she tensed the arm she had curled

around his back. “No. Not unless you can’t bear to be near me. I
wouldn’t blame you. I must look a fright.”

Despite her tugging, he drew away, but he laced his fingers

through the ones on her uninjured hand. “Come with me.”

He took her through a door on the other side of the room., into a

bathroom. About half the size of the big bedroom, it still could have
held most of her old apartment back home. The center was occupied
by a half-sunk tub, big enough—yes, big enough for three. Three
basins were suspended over the counter on the far wall, and a walk-in
shower was built into a corner. A bathroom made for three. The toilet
must be somewhere else. She’d have to find it before too long, she
realized.

Dion walked her to the basins. Three mirrors were set above them.

“Look.”

Wonderingly, she put her hand to her cheek. “Where is it? The

bruise—where’s it gone?”

“You mated with shifters. That gives you some of their abilities,

including the gift of fast healing.” He kissed the top of her head. He
looked so good standing behind her, a head taller than she was and
then some. The top of her head came up to his shoulders. Although he
dwarfed her, he didn’t intimidate her. She’d bet he was holding back.
He could look plenty intimidating if he wanted to. “That wrist should
be as good as new in a few days.”

She lifted the cast. “But it’s broken.”
“And healing. Is it stiff? Does it itch?”

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65

Now he mentioned it, she realized he was right. “Yes. But it’s

nothing compared to—other things.”

His mouth flattened, grim. “I can imagine. And you will tell us,

but wait until Jag gets home. You can tell us both.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”
“The start is usually a good place.”
Shock still making her numb, he clasped her hand in his and took

her into the main room. “Go and get in the tub. Holler if you can’t get
the controls to work. They’re pretty straightforward. I’ll bring your
things up and see what Caroline is making for dinner. Jag should be
here soon.”

“I’m not sure I can tell you tonight,” she blurted. She wanted at

least one night to come to terms with what had happened to her.

“Fair enough. Take your time. We can hold dinner for you if you

need it.”

How many cooks had torn their hair out at those words? Plenty,

she’d bet. “What time do you usually have dinner?”

“Around seven-thirty. We’re early risers, so we don’t go to bed

late.”

At the words, “Go to bed,” Mia’s mind went where it wasn’t

supposed to. To that big bed in the other room, the one meant for
three. The one she’d be sleeping in later. On her own.

After that sizzling kiss, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She’d slept

on her own far too long.

The tub was bliss. She felt decadent, pouring all that water into a

tub meant for a group and then using it on her own. After laying the
baby alarm within reach but out of danger of getting wet, she explored
the bathroom. She found some bath oil in a cupboard and poured in a
generous dose, sending the mouthwatering fragrance of fresh
strawberries into the air. After stripping, she slipped in. This thing
even had a soft, waterproof pillow. She had to lay the arm with the
cast along the side to keep it out of the wet. Actually, it wasn’t a cast,

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Em Ashcroft

but a plastic shell that encased her bandaged arm. If she wanted to,
she could take it off, but of course, she wouldn’t.

She slid her unbandaged hand down her body, over the slight

curves. There weren’t many. Maybe she could get a job as a model,
one of the half-starved ones that were so in fashion when she’d been
kidnapped. She touched her pubic hair, untouched by razor or
scissors. If she wanted that career, she’d have to wax or shave.

A mild tingle interested her, and she slid her fingers between her

pussy lips to graze her clit. So what if the hot men who lived here did
like her? Nah. But a girl could dream. Shit, it had been years since
she’d done anything like this. Out of practice, she told herself,
smiling. When she opened her eyes, she watched the ceiling, white,
like a blank canvas. In her mind, she sent a movie flickering across it.
Her and Dion, kissing, and him holding her close, licking into her,
both of them openmouthed. Then another man stepped up to glide his
big, work-worn hands up her back and around to hold her buttocks.

Where did she get these fantasies? She had no fucking idea, but

they were nice.

She let the movie run. Her fingers were busy between her legs

now, tweaking and exploring. She slipped one finger inside her cunt,
collected her own natural moisture, slick, thicker than water, and used
it to lubricate her clit. With a groan, she leaned back, watching the
men caress and kiss her. She shared a kiss with Jag, rougher than
Dion’s caresses, but just as needy, their tongues twining. Dion moved
to her breasts and sucked one into his mouth, then let it go, all but the
tip, which he nipped and licked, his tongue moving fast over her
nipple.

Jag, standing behind her, had his fingers between her legs. Instead

of her fingers in her cunt, it was him, tweaking and pinching.

Sensation washed over her, surged, and burst, leaving her spent

and sated. For now at least. She could lie here forever.

The idea that she’d been a Robinson Crusoe, cut off at a moment

in time while the world carried on regardless, seized her. Sometimes

On the Prowl

67

she’d wanted to believe that everything outside her little room at the
facility was a dream, and the room was all that existed. It kept her
going, but eventually she had had to admit that she wanted out and
she couldn’t wait any longer, and she’d get out any way she could,
even if that meant killing herself. Then she had gone screaming mad
for a while, until they had quietened her with drugs and threats.

She had wanted freedom, experiences—all the things she’d lost,

as well as her children. Could she, or would she, now be a mother and
nothing else? Not a sexual being, or a career woman? At least the role
would be her choice, and not thrust upon her by circumstance.

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Chapter Six

A gentle tap on the bathroom door roused Mia from the slumber

she hadn’t known she’d slip into. The water was cold, and she hadn’t
even washed her hair. Oil floated on the surface. “W–what’s the
time?”

Dion’s amused tones came back to her. “Nearly eight. I brought

up a tray for you. It’s stew tonight, so it won’t spoil. I’ll leave now
and give you a chance to finish up and come out.”

She heard the outer door click quietly shut. Then she scrambled

out of the tub, pressed the button that would release the water, and got
under the shower to rinse her hair. Using the conditioner felt divine.
She hadn’t used any for years. Then afterward, she could use some of
the product she used to use automatically in the old days. It all felt
oddly normal, as if the last five years hadn’t happened. Apart from the
luxury surrounding her, of course. That was the last thing she’d
expected to find in a ranch house, but since her experience of them
consisted of novels and old movies, she hadn’t thought about it a great
deal.

The towels were soft and rich, unlike the harsh, thin rags she’d

been given before when her captors had reluctantly allowed her five
minutes under a trickle of nearly cold water.

She didn’t bother to dry her hair, but toweled off, wrapped herself

in a robe that she found on the back of the door, and walked into the
bedroom to the fragrance of cooked meat and vegetables. Although
her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled, she ignored the food
and went through to the nursery.

On the Prowl

69

The babies slept. They’d wake soon for their final bottle of the

day. Then they’d sleep for six hours, if they weren’t disturbed. The
journey had tired them as much as it had her.

When she’d eaten, savoring the delicious meal in solitary

splendor, she wondered what to do about the leftovers and decided to
take them down to the kitchen.

It was empty, but she found the dishwasher and loaded it.
A sound made her start, and someone came in from outside. Jag,

dressed in jeans, cotton shirt, Stetson, and—lordy—chaps. His
cowboy boots were well worn but sturdy—not a description she’d
apply to Jag. Aware of her tousled appearance, but even more aware
that she was naked under the robe, she instinctively clutched the
lapels tight around her.

Jag frowned. “Why did you do that?”
“What? Oh, this?” She released the lapels and forced herself to

relax. “I’m sorry. Habit.”

The frown deepened. “Why?”
She forced a smile, but even to her, it felt false. “That’s a whole

’nother story, as they say. I promised Dion I’d tell him later, when
both of you are there. Actually, he suggested it, so I wouldn’t have to
recount it twice.”

To her surprise, his expression relaxed. He nodded. “That makes

sense. Is there any of that stew left?”

“Didn’t you eat earlier?” She crossed to the covered pot on the

stove and lifted the lid. “There’s lots. She’s probably left it here to
cool. Caroline.”

She didn’t imagine the tightening of his mouth when she turned to

face him. “Ah, yes,” he said. “She’s a great cook.”

“But…?” She raised a brow.
“Nothing.”
“But she’s interested in you and Dion. You don’t have to say

anything. I saw.” How could they have missed the way Caroline

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looked at them with warmth in her eyes, and the way her voice
softened when she spoke to them?

He sighed and pushed back his hat. “Yeah. She is. But we’re not

interested. Not in that way, and if we took her to bed she’d want
more.” Under his tanned skin, he flushed to the roots of his hair.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t say that. But you did notice. Please don’t tell her I
said anything.”

“Why should I?” She found a bowl, like the one she’d eaten her

stew from, and filled it for him, taking it to the microwave. “It’s none
of my business.”

“No,” he said. “She lives in a cabin on the grounds. Not far away.

We moved her there when the builders were in. And she liked it, so
we kept her there.” He went out of sight and returned in five minutes
without his outer clothing. And the boots. She glanced down at his
stockinged feet. “Yeah. Caroline insists. Says she doesn’t want mud
and worse trodden into her kitchen.”

“I don’t blame her,” Mia said dryly. She fingered the baby alarm

in her pocket, uncomfortable alone with this man.

His sexual appeal was palpable. How could she feel this for two

such different men? Yes, they were breed partners, but despite
bearing shape-shifter children, she wasn’t a shape-shifter herself. She
shouldn’t have this impulse. To a one-man-one-woman mortal, it
wasn’t right. And they were so different in appearance, Jag so dark,
and Dion fair. Jag was intense where Dion had a more laid-back
attitude. Mostly, she amended, recalling the scene in the nursery.

“Where are your kids?”
“In the nursery next to the bedroom,” she told him.
Jag, in the process of grabbing some bread from a bin on the

counter, paused and turned his head to stare at her, black eyes
gleaming. “Really?” His shoulders sagged as if he’d released some
tension.

“He told me about your breedmate. I’m sorry.”

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71

Jag continued in his task and brought the plate of bread over to the

table. The microwave pinged, and she went to retrieve the bowl for
him. He motioned to the seat opposite. “Thanks for the sympathy. I
recovered better than Dion. In one way, at least. I never really thought
of kids as more than something that we needed to do for the
community. Oh, I don’t doubt I’d have loved them if they came, but I
didn’t mourn them like Dion. He wouldn’t let anybody touch that
room. Now you have. I’m glad.”

He grabbed a hunk of bread. It smelled so good that she reached

out without thinking, and he slapped the back of her hand. Tapped it
really, and did it smiling.

He pulled off a piece and handed it to her when she snatched her

hand back. “Sorry. It wasn’t meant seriously.”

“No, I know.” She ate the bread, although she didn’t want it now.
His eyes narrowed in speculation, just as his breed partner’s had

earlier. “You’re going to tell us all about what happened, aren’t you?”

She nodded, chewing on the bread. It was good, bread she’d have

killed for once, but the flavor dried in her mouth. As if he could read
her mind, he rose from the table, went to the refrigerator, and poured
them a glass of milk each.

She gulped. “Great milk.”
“It’s ours. We have raw milk, too, but I’ll make sure that’s put

somewhere else. It’s not good for babies, right?”

“That’s right. I think. I had to approach mothering skills by

instinct for the most part,” she confessed, although it hurt her to do so.
One isolated memory came to her. “I got into a mess when I tried to
put on the first diaper. Did it back to front! They didn’t give me the
pack, only a pile of the diapers.” She smiled, and to her relief he lost
the glowering look and smiled back. “It’s so easy to put a baby in a
diaper, but not if you don’t get told first.”

He huffed a laugh. “Like milking a cow, I guess. The first time

one of those was put in front of me, I knew what it was and what to
do, just not how to do it.”

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“I thought cows were sacred to—” She broke off, but he finished

the sentence for her.

“Hindus. Somebody’s been talking. I’m not Hindu. My mom

might have been, but my dads weren’t, and she wasn’t particularly
devout. My parents were a couple, one man, one woman. Her
breedmate wasn’t part of that relationship. He had another woman, so
my dads got together especially to make me.” He grimaced. “Aren’t I
lucky?”

“I guess.”
“Except my mother lost interest in me and dumped me. By then,

both my dads were dead. I guess she lost interest in everything,
because she died soon after. I was dumped on the street. I managed. I
mean, being a shape-shifter has its advantages. I hunted, until the city
became aware of me and called me a rogue tiger. They got the good
people of Goldclaw in to hunt me down, which they did, but instead
of killing me, they brought me here. I was half mad.”

He stopped to shovel more food into his mouth. He ate neatly, but

had the gift of making a big dish of stew disappear in record time. “I
don’t have a religion,” he continued when he’d cleared his mouth.

He recited his terrible history so matter-of-factly she could have

missed the tragedy of it all. When breedmates died, their partner or
partners could live on. Many didn’t want to, but when a child was
involved, most right-thinking parents would put the child first. What
kind of selfish bastards left a child to fend for itself on the streets?
“How old were you?”

“Six when they found me. Just old enough to scare people when I

shape-shifted.”

That wasn’t what she meant. She wanted to know how old he had

been when they dumped him. Shape-shifter or human, six years old
was no age for a child to be dumped in that way. Not even in the
system. Just abandoned. Dear God, and she thought she’d had it bad.

“No.” He spoke roughly. “Don’t. I got over it, and I’m fine. I was

fostered here, and I found Dion.”

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73

“How do you know when you’ve found a breed partner?” She’d

always wondered that, even before—before.

He smiled. She’d obviously hit on a good memory. “You just

know. Deep down. Most shape-shifters communicate telepathically,
but breed partners go deeper. We’re empathetic. We can communicate
better and further, and we’re happiest close to each other.”

“And you share women.”
“Yes.” His voice had deepened. Not him, too! He couldn’t want

her. She knew she could look good, but not now. She needed time to
regroup, to get a haircut and let her bruises and scratches fade.

With a bout of self-consciousness, she put her hand to her head in

an effort to smooth her hair. It was drying curly. She used to blow dry
it straight, but she didn’t know how women wore their hair these
days. “But you don’t have a chance of meeting another breedmate.”

He nodded. “True. We’ll mourn Anna to the day we die, but then,

she was a lovely young woman on the brink of adulthood. That’s
someone you’d mourn anyway.”

A snort came from her pocket, and then an incipient wail. Mia got

to her feet, the chair scraping against the floor. “I have to go. The
baby alarm—”

Still eating, he nodded. She left the kitchen quickly.

* * * *

Quickly, Mia hurried to the nursery and picked up Snub. He had

already woken Freckle. Wondering if this part of babyhood actually
ever ended, she got on with the feed and change. She used to welcome
this part, because at least she had something to do. Now she felt
slightly guilty that the chore irritated her—not the feeding part, but
the diaper part.

That bed next door beckoned to her. It was still early, about half

past eight, but she didn’t give a damn. She longed to climb between
the sheets and sink into oblivion. For six hours, anyhow, until the next

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feed and change. Soon her children would sleep longer, and in a few
months, they wouldn’t need milk any longer. One part of her yearned
for it. The other knew how much she’d miss it. That closeness, sitting
in the gloom, with dawn approaching, just her and her babies. She’d
never had anywhere as comfortable as the rocker she was now sitting
in, but it was still one of the best times of the day.

What would she do now? She couldn’t stay here forever. Or

perhaps she could. She had a profession and a qualification.
Possibilities dawned in her as she laid a sleepy Snub down in the cot
and reached for Freckle, who let out a great shriek when she did.

A door on the other side of the room opened to admit Dion,

rushing in, alarm widening his eyes. “Fuck, I thought somebody was
dead!”

“Not making a sound like that they aren’t.” Straightening with the

baby in her arms, she discovered it was her turn to widen her eyes.

He was stark naked. Not a stitch on. Oh, wowsers, her imagination

hadn’t done him justice. She remembered him mentioning that he’d
shifted when he’d seen her in her car. Shit, and she was unconscious?
What a bummer.

But she could see him now. He was built, his body rippling with

muscles, broad shouldered and with those grooves on the inside of his
hips that made her gooey. Plenty to hang on to. If she’d let her
imagination loose for ten years, she couldn’t have come up with a
sexier image. Unless it was both men. She shuddered.

They stared at each other while Freckle squalled and Snub slept

peacefully, God knew how. “I—it’s the evening feed,” she said.
“After this, they should sleep for at least six hours. I should start
preparing solid food for them.”

“If that slop we gave them earlier is an example, maybe they

should shape-shift so we can start them on minced beef.” He didn’t
seem in the least disconcerted by his state of undress. Of course, he
shouldn’t be, but the way his cock was stirring, maybe he should at
least try to cover himself up.

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75

“When did you last have sex?” she demanded crossly, once she’d

got Freckle latched on to the bottle. He sucked contentedly, and
silence fell on the room.

He put his hands on his hips, as if proud of his condition, and

grinned. “A while back. Maybe six months ago. I went to a dance in
town on my own and got laid. Why?”

“A meaningful relationship, then?” She daren’t look up, and he

wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Instead, she watched her son feed. He
stared up at her, his amber eyes full of love. She gazed back, in much
the same state.

“She was a tourist. She wanted a cowboy, and I fit the bill. Both

of us got what we wanted.” He crossed the room and got out a diaper.
“Does my presence here bother you?”

“What do you think?” When she looked up, he was standing far

too close to her, even though there was clear air between them. It just
seemed as if he was crowding her. And she was sitting in the rocking
chair. At cock level.

Ah, shit, he was built. Everywhere. Light brown hair a shade

darker than the hair on his head curled around a shaft that was
definitely stirring. Intriguingly, he wasn’t circumcised, and the tip
was peeking out of the end like a shy youngster coming out to play.

Realizing she was staring, she jerked her head up to meet his

amused, blue gaze. She swallowed. He watched. “A white tiger, you
say?” she said, trying to return the scene to normal, whatever that
was.

“Yep.” He held up his hand, curled it, and let claws shoot out of

the ends of his fingers. He sheathed them again and turned a smile on
her that was definitely feline. The movement made the muscles in his
arms bunch and relax. Imagining her hands there, she couldn’t look
away.

She swallowed.

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Freckle slurped the last bit of his milk, pulling her attention away

from him. Just as well. She got to her feet and crossed to the changing
mat. “You might want to step back.”

His horrified exclamation when she unpeeled the full diaper made

it worth the warning. “Fuck, how did he do that?”

“What goes in, eventually comes out.”
But to her surprise, Dion didn’t beat a hasty retreat. Instead, when

she’d cleaned Freckle up and disposed of the dirty diaper, she found a
fresh one handed to her. “Get that kid tucked away.”

Smiling, she did so, and in a few minutes had Freckle clean,

sweet-smelling, and tucked in a fresh onesie. Cute again, instead of a
poo-monster.

Dion was still staring at him in fascinated horror when she put the

baby down. “They should really have separate cribs,” he said.

“It’s no problem.”
“I’ll make a call in the morning.” He moved closer. The heat of

his hands on her shoulders seeped through her entire body. “Mia, I’d
very much like to continue what we started earlier. If you’re tired, or
if you don’t want to take this any further, then say so. Tell me to fuck
off, and we’ll pretend this never happened. I didn’t come in naked on
purpose, I swear, but you saw what happened. How you make me
feel. I can’t fake that. I want you.” While she was still gathering her
thoughts, he continued. “Don’t be afraid that I’ll be pissy, or come on
to you all the time, or anything like that. It’s just—”

“Do you tomcat around much?” She tried to make her tones

scornful.

“No.” He sounded sincere, but she didn’t turn around. If she dared

to face him, he’d be lost. “Six months ago was an aberration. Robyn
left us, and I needed something. She was always a friend, never
anything else, but at one time we’d hoped to share our lives with her.
It didn’t happen, and I guess I was angry and disappointed. I promise,
I don’t do that on a regular basis.”

“Why did you say it, then?”

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77

“To push you away. But it’s not working. I’ve been doing my

chores, picking the hardest jobs outside on purpose, but that didn’t
help, either. I can’t bear it. Do you want me? Yes or no.”

She wet her lips. “Yes.” Her voice came out as a breathy whisper.
“Turn around.”
Once she did, she was his. There would be no going back. That

kiss earlier had promised so much she dared dream he meant it. “Why
me?”

“Because the minute I saw you, I wanted you. No, that’s wrong. I

wanted to shelter you, bring you right here and take care of you, make
sure you got better. That is, before I fucked your brains out. That
desire came later, when I saw you in the hospital and they told us you
weren’t badly hurt.”

He bit out each word as if it hurt him to say it. Men like Dion

would take first. Explaining himself wouldn’t come naturally to the
laconic cowboy. But he must want her, because he was making a
good job of it now.

That, as much as his hot body and the arousal she’d seen, made up

her mind for her. She turned around, and she was smiling. “Normally,
if a naked man strolled into the room where I was, I’d call it
harassment. But you’re a shape-shifter, so I’ll forgive you for that.”

He smiled, too, his face relaxing into its familiar lazy humor. “I

don’t own one pair of pajamas. I heard a scream, and I didn’t think. I
came straight in.”

“To rescue me?”
“Something like that.” His head descended, and he kissed her.
She loved the way he opened her mouth with a flick of his tongue,

demanding instead of requesting. She wanted to be taken, ravished,
overwhelmed. She wanted to know what it felt like, for once—for the
first time in her life. Not that she’d tell him that. She wasn’t
technically a virgin. She was just—inexperienced.

He plunged his tongue in deep, his hum of appreciation vibrating

against the roof of her mouth. He kissed her with lavish attention, his

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hands around her, before he cinched her close. His cock came to
attention, pressing against her stomach through the folds of her robe.
Unashamedly, he ground it against her, and she moaned in turn.

“Bed,” he said against her mouth, and before she could say

anything, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing, which she
pretty much did at the moment.

He took her through to the bedroom and laid her on the sheets

she’d been dreaming about before he’d come in. They felt every bit as
good as she’d imagined they would and even better when he came
down on top of her, covering her with his big body. “We are going to
have to feed you up,” he said between kisses. “You’re gorgeous as
you are, but you need to eat more.” He rolled to one side of her and
carefully unfastened the tie that held her robe together. He spread the
white folds to reveal her body, and she tried not to drag the covers
over herself. “I used to look pretty good, once,” she said.

“You still do.” He traced around the nipple on her left breast, and

she whimpered at the sensation that shot through her in response.
“You’re pretty, so pretty. And fragile. Delicate. I don’t usually do
good around delicate, but I’ll make an exception this time.” He
stroked her slowly, like settling a nervous horse, all his movements
careful. “You look good, baby. You feel good, too.” He bent and
sniffed her neck. “Smell gorgeous.”

“I found some bath oil.”
Bending further, he put his nose to her crotch and sniffed deeply.

“This isn’t bath oil. This is you, and that’s what smells best of all.”
Flicking out his tongue, he tasted her. “So good. I need more of this.”

Still moving slowly, but with a deliberation that told her he was

taking everything he wanted, he mounted her. He tucked one knee
between her legs, easing them apart as he slid over her body, then
brought his other leg over so he lay between her spread thighs. Then
he turned his attention to her pussy. “I said you were pretty,” he
murmured, intense satisfaction coloring his voice.

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79

He gazed at her. She could hide nothing. Although all through her

pregnancy she’d been examined by medical professionals, they had
done it with the impartiality required, touching her as little as
possible, showing no sign of inappropriate behavior. That was the
only experience she’d had of men looking at her naked body before.

Dion did precisely the opposite. He explored, opened her with his

fingers and looked, growled low in his throat. “You’re wet.”

She was. Her arousal soaked her cunt and the tops of her thighs.

He glanced at her face and smiled. “Okay?”

She liked that he checked that she was still with him. Eagerly, she

nodded.

“Alrighty then.” Dion bent and licked.
Mia nearly came off the bed. He took one long lick from cunt to

clit, taking his first taste, and then settled in, sucking her clit deeply
and pressing his tongue against it. She cried his name, moved to one
side and then back again. “More,” she said.

“You are getting more. As much as we can both take.”
The intimacy of the connection shocked her. Telepathy was, she

understood, a convenience, used when the sentient being was in its
other form, its vocal chords unable to form the sophisticated shapes
needed for words. But this was more. He spoke deep into her mind,
connecting with her at a primitive level, his promise shuddering
through her as she cried his name and arched her body into him.

When he added his fingers, first stroking her sensitive pussy and

then pushing them inside her, she gave a strangled cry and received a
chuckle in return. He touched a place inside her, the one she’d never
been able to find for herself. Although in the dark of night under the
covers, sometimes she’d tried to find it, thinking it might be some
kind of solace.

Dion found it without effort. His sucking and stroking drove her

higher than she’d imagined she could go, much further than the
orgasm she’d given herself earlier. “That’s it, baby. Come.”

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His encouragement was all she needed. She came around his

hand, crying his name.

Grabbing his hair, she pulled until he released her. He came up

her body, his lips glistening with her juices, his eyes gleaming with
pure devilry. “So now what?” he asked.

“Fuck me.” She’d never have imagined she’d have the courage to

say that. Not her first time with a man. But his slow smile rewarded
her.

“I do like a woman who says what she wants. Second guessing is

pure hell. With or without, sweetheart?”

“What?” Genuinely bewildered, she stared at him. Had her

youthful reading about sex missed something out?

“Protection,” he said succinctly. “I can’t give you anything, babies

or diseases. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go get some condoms
from my room. I want you to be ready and wanting me with nothing
between that desire and mine.”

He gazed down at her, waiting for her answer.
It was dark now. He leaned over and switched on the bedside

lights. “That’s better. I can see you properly now. I hate groping in
the dark.” He touched his lips to hers, then deepened the kiss. She
hooked her arm around his neck, opened her legs, and gripped him
between her thighs. “Without,” she said when he came up for air.

His smile broadened. “I was hoping you’d say that.” His cock

pressed against her, leaving a damp patch on her skin when he took it
and guided it to her pussy. Eagerly, she thrust her lower body up to
meet him, opening herself as much as she could. “Gorgeous,” he
murmured as he slid it inside her—just inside, lodging at the entrance.
Then he thrust.

Sheer brute strength drove him deep inside her, filling her. Mia

gasped, clutching him. “Oh, I’ve wanted this for years! I never
thought I’d get it!”

He paused and lifted up on his elbows. He’d lost the smile, and a

frown furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

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81

Swallowing, she realized the game was up. “I–I’ve never done

this before.” Should she say something to ameliorate it, like with you?
No, best he knew, now she’d blurted it out. “I’ve never had sex with a
man before.”

His shocked glance went in the direction of the nursery, and he

pressed against the bed, as if to pull out.

“No!” she cried in alarm. “Don’t go, please don’t go. I want this.

More than I can say. From you.”

Dion gazed down at her face, searching her expression as if to

read her. Eventually he sighed. “You’re a nest of contradictions. Most
of all, it’s this.” He withdrew and then slammed inside her. “I want
this so much I can’t think straight.”

“So do I.”
She heard a sound, but it was behind her head, near the window.

Probably a bird, or a horse moving about in the corral. She didn’t
care. She just wanted Dion to fuck her. His back stiffened, and then
he glanced up. “Hey.” He wasn’t talking to her.

“Hey,” said Jag.

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Chapter Seven

When he’d heard her cry, “No!” she’d woken him from an

exhausted slumber, but Jag had leaped out of bed immediately. He’d
put on pajama bottoms before he went to bed. He did that sometimes,
because he was a restless sleeper and he didn’t want to bump into one
of the hands, or worse, Caroline. She might expect more than he was
prepared to give her. Unlike Dion, Jag was well aware of Caroline’s
interest, but he wanted to ease her out gradually, not shock her or hurt
her by refusing her outright.

Mia—now, that was different. At first he’d distrusted her, but now

it seemed they were on the same side. She didn’t have the Grid tattoo
because she was one of them—they’d branded her in their own sick
way. He could have killed anyone who’d done that to that perfect,
porcelain skin. When he’d caught himself thinking that, he’d known
he was in trouble. He wanted her. The meeting in the kitchen earlier
had filled him with a sense of rightness. This woman—easy, sexy,
now she’d bathed and the worst of her bruises had gone—appealed to
him at the most primitive level. And she’d lost that terror from her
expression, the scared-rabbit look he’d hated. He liked seeing her like
this, at home here, comfortable, moving around the kitchen as if she’d
always been there.

He still didn’t like the idea of a woman invading his home on a

permanent basis. If he couldn’t have his breedmate, then he wouldn’t
have anybody. And he sure didn’t take kindly to having another breed
couple’s children in his home, however cute they happened to be. Jag
didn’t do cute, he told himself firmly, ignoring the appeal of the tykes.

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As cubs, they’d tugged at his heartstrings, and there he was believing
he didn’t have any.

But when she’d cried out, he hadn’t thought. He’d leapt out of bed

and wrenched open the connecting door before he could think
straight. His tiger to the fore, he’d moved silently to stand by the
window before he pounced.

Only then, when adrenaline had ebbed, did he see the truth. She’d

begged him not to go. Dion, his breed partner, had gotten there first.

His cock stood to attention as he watched the pair on the bed.

Dion had shoved the sheets aside, and he was inside her, his taut
buttocks demonstrating how deep he was. She’d just said
something—Jag didn’t know what—that had frozen him in the act.
He’d lifted up so he saw her breasts, small but perfect, the nipples
hard, brown little buds just waiting for his mouth.

He should slip away before she saw him. Being his partner, Dion

had become aware of his presence as soon as Jag had entered the
room, but Mia was too caught up in Dion to notice him at first. But
fuck that, he was staying until she asked him to leave. Dion wouldn’t.
He liked being watched, for one thing, as Jag did. Spectating was the
second best thing about sharing a woman. The first being, of course,
fucking her and knowing his breed partner was watching.

So he leaned against the wall, folded his arms, and waited.
Mia gasped, and adorably, crossed her arm over her chest.
“Don’t do that on my account,” Jag said. “You’re gorgeous. Show

me more, if you like.”

Her attention went from Dion to him and back, but in that brief

glance, he didn’t see fear or repulsion in her eyes. He saw desire
gleaming in the blue depths.

He kept his voice low and steady, as he would to a skittish filly.

“You’re beautiful, Mia. I came here because I heard you cry out. I
want to stay and make you cry out some more. But I’ll go if you want
me to. You’ve got ten seconds before I join you in that bed and show

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you what it’s like to have two men all over your body. Dion is
willing. Look at him if you don’t believe me.”

She stared at Jag, frozen. Dion remained poised on top of her,

inside her cunt, the lucky fuck.

“One,” he began. “Two.” Okay maybe it was a bit fast for a

second, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Three.”

“Yes,” she said.
“Come or go?”
“Come.”
That was all he needed. Shedding his pajama bottoms, he left

them on the floor and padded to the bedside. This bed was huge, so
there was plenty of room for the three of them, even if they rolled
around a little, which he totally intended to do.

Mia shuddered when he touched her, grazing his hand over her

breast, savoring the soft, silky skin before he took her nipple between
his thumb and forefinger and pinched.

Her cry sent her jolting toward Dion, who started moving. He

fucked her with steady, regular strokes, and Jag wondered at his
restraint. Dion usually went at it like a buck in heat, but he was taking
a lot of care. Maybe her injuries, or the shock she’d undergone, made
him careful. He determined to take equal care with her when it was
his turn.

Dion glanced at him. “It’s her first time,” he panted.
Mind. Blown. How the fuck had she conceived if she hadn’t had a

scene like this? Shape-shifters had to give her their seed quickly, one
after the other, for a woman to conceive a shape-shifter baby. Or two,
as had happened in this case. So what happened?

Ugly scenarios briefly crowded into his mind, but he dismissed

them, promising himself he’d examine them later. He needed to get
the truth from her and deal with it. The thought of her suffering nearly
killed him. Just because he wasn’t the best person at showing his
feelings didn’t mean he didn’t have any. Her sympathy earlier had
almost undone him, but idiot that he was, he’d let her go upstairs on

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her own when the babies had squalled. At least that had given him
time to shower and make himself acceptable for a woman’s bed. He
wouldn’t be coming to her stinking of horse.

“Did you go in bareback?” he asked his breed partner now and

received a laconic affirmative.

He turned and groped in the nightstand at the side of the bed,

checked the date stamp on the condom he found there, and applied it.
It wasn’t as if his dick was going down until it had found its way
inside her. If she said no, he’d get rid of it, but he prayed to every god
he knew that she wouldn’t.

However, watching her with Dion was pretty fucking hot.
Mia was gorgeous. Her pert breasts were tipped with nipples the

color of milk chocolate, and they were currently furled into hard little
buttons, ripe for the sucking. She was tiny, fragile, her bones pushing
against that amazing skin. He didn’t like that part, but a few weeks of
good food should help to cure that. Then they’d find out if she was
naturally thin or if she’d curve a little more. Either way, he couldn’t
imagine it changing the way he felt about her.

He wanted her so badly, his cock was so hard that it would break

off if she said no.

Dion drove inside her, slamming his body into hers, but he was

careful not to put his full weight onto her. He’d fucking squash her to
death if he did that. She cried out with every stroke, her arousal
sending waves of her exquisite aroma around them, claiming him as
surely as if she’d said the words, “You’re mine.”

The expression on Dion’s face showed his abandon, his eyes dark

with excitement and his mouth partly open. He concentrated on her,
except when he shot Jag one glance of sheer triumph. He got there
first, and he got the privilege of feeling her skin-to-skin. To save
complications, they’d always worked that way, if the woman was
willing. The animal in their natures demanded here, now, and
sometimes it was difficult to deny that, but they’d usually managed it
so far. He had to cope with it now.

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Bodies slapping together, their combined moans, and the sight of

his breed partner fully into fucking a lovely woman nearly sent Jag
over the edge, and when she flicked him a cautious glance, it was
nearly the end for him. But he forced a smile that was more of a
grimace, grasped the base of his cock to force anything premature
back where it came from, and leaned forward to kiss her.

He kept the kiss gentle and undemanding, but she flicked her

tongue against his lips. With a growled, “Witch!” he took her
invitation and drove in with his tongue. Her excitement rose, heat and
desire both, and she moaned into his mouth with every thrust Dion
gave her. She loved this—she really did—and he loved it right along
with her.

His kiss deepened and became an expression of what he wanted

with her, thrusting along with the others, so the three of them
combined in one long climb to mutual climax. No, no, he would come
but not yet. He badly wanted to get inside her, not just share the
experience. When Dion opened to him, letting Jag feel his state, Jag
slammed the door, hoping that Dion would understand he couldn’t
take it.

When he’d first seen Mia, his anger at his own arousal was

because he’d thought she was his enemy, one of the Grid instead of a
victim. Now that he knew she wasn’t one of the people plotting the
downfall of shape-shifters, he could express his arousal fully and
without stint, his only consideration the woman. Giving and taking
pleasure was important to Jag.

Mia screamed. He swallowed her pleasure, but when Dion nudged

him, he moved away so his breed partner could take his kiss of
triumph. She sighed before their lips met, opened her eyes, and gazed
into Dion’s with a dreamy expression that looked perilously like an
emotion both breed partners had eschewed. Love didn’t have a part of
their lives, and it never would. Affection, care, friendship, all those—
Jag reminded himself of the vow they had taken. He needed to
strengthen a resolve that had begun to melt right around the time

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she’d opened her eyes for the first time and looked at him. Not to let
another woman into his heart. Only his bed.

Dion’s buttocks tightened, and at last, he came, pulsing his seed

into her. A shard of jealousy pushed its way into his mind. If Jag
wanted bareback, they’d have to wait a full twenty-four hours. Longer
to be absolutely safe. Mia was in no state for pregnancy now, so he’d
play it safe.

Cursing his instinctive urge to be a knight-errant, but unable to do

anything about it, Jag moved over her when Dion collapsed, spent, by
her side. “Can you take me?” That came out a lot needier than he’d
intended.

She nodded and spread her legs, signifying her acceptance. Before

he climbed over her, he paused. “I’m wearing protection. You won’t
have anything to worry about.” With their breedmate long dead, they
couldn’t father shape-shifting children, but human children were a
possibility.

She gazed at him, then down at his cock, which he was still

gripping, and bit her lower lip. Unable to stop himself, he kissed her
and spoke to her, mind to mind. “Do you want this? Say no and I
swear I’ll leave. Are you too sore?”

“No. Yes. I want it.”
That was enough for him. Guiding his cock to her open, soaking-

wet entrance, he pushed in.

It took every bit of self-control he had to push in as gently as he

could. Her body clasped him as he thrust, embraced him with
feminine wonder. “Oh, so good.” He sent the thought to her, but in
emotion, not words, close to instinct now, his fine mind leashed and
put away. This was all about Mia, and feeling. Lifting his mouth from
Mia’s, he shot a glance to Dion, who was leaning on one elbow,
watching, his eyes gleaming and a smile curling his mouth. “You two
look great together. Fuck her, Jag. Fuck her good.”

Jag bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Anything you say, partner.”

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Turning his attention back to Mia, he gazed into her eyes and sent

his senses into her, attuned to the least twinge of distress. He thrust
and thrust again, setting up a rhythm that was different to Dion’s,
more desperate, hammering into her as his passage grew easier. They
created their own aromas, subtly different to Dion’s, although the
potent scent of his semen added to the mix. He could get drunk on it.

Scent was a vital instinct to tigers, and everything about this told

him it was good and right, more than ever before. A strand of hair fell
over his forehead and stuck to the sweat gathering there. His breath
came in hoarse pants, rasping in time to her breathy gasps. Her breasts
heaved against his chest, grazing his skin with soft touches, almost
like kisses. And still he fucked her, driving hard, offering no mercy.
Not that she was asking for any. She gazed up at him, drinking him in
with her eyes, and he watched her, committing everything about this
scene to memory.

Beside them, Dion growled. “This is right. You know it, man.”
Yes, he did, and it scared him to death. He did what he always did

when he was scared, what he’d done since he was a kid on the streets.
He covered it up. It was nobody’s business but his.

So he kissed her, pushed his marauding tongue into her mouth

while he gave her a few extra strokes before he withdrew from her
and rolled to one side. As he sat up, ready to leave the bed, a baby
wailed. He started. That sound wasn’t something he expected to hear
after a vigorous bout of sex. Lovemaking. No, sex. It couldn’t be
anything else, especially this soon.

He turned his head to see her wearily climbing over Dion, who

joined her, supporting her around her waist. Dion and Jag exchanged
a long look before they left the room, he to his bedroom and they to
the nursery. Jag had no intention of joining them there. But as he was
in the bathroom, disposing of the used protection before stepping into
the shower, he had an idea. Going back into his bedroom, he picked
up his phone from the nightstand and contacted Dion mentally. “She
needs more rest. She shouldn’t have to get up all through the night.”

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“Agreed.”
Swiftly he outlined his plan and, to his relief, got Dion’s

permission. He didn’t think it would be that easy, but perhaps Dion
had finally moved on. That nursery was a fucking shrine to a baby
that was never there, wasn’t even conceived. His sense of relief when
Dion had told him the place was finally being used was replaced by
an uneasy sense that it wasn’t right. The babies should have a place of
their own. True, Dion’s agreement was laconic and terse, probably
something to do with the two screaming babies Jag could faintly hear,
but that was enough. Before he had his shower, Jag made good on his
plans. After making a succession of calls, he was satisfied, and he
settled into bed with the good feeling of a job well done.

* * * *

Jag didn’t come back to bed. When she asked Dion, he murmured,

“He doesn’t like to sleep with other people. He has nightmares. But
you rocked his world tonight, baby.” Then he drew her into his arms.
She was too tired to argue and too happy. She’d never slept with a
man before, and it was the best. She never wanted to sleep alone
again.

When she awoke, he was still there, to kiss her and touch her,

before inevitably the babies cried and it was time to change them and
take them downstairs for their breakfast.

Jag was already up and dressed. When they entered the kitchen,

holding a baby each, he got to his feet and came across to kiss her
gently on the mouth before taking a baby from her and telling her to
sit down and eat. “Caroline won’t be in for an hour, but I was hungry,
so I cooked some bacon and eggs. It’s still hot. Want some?”

Her mouth watered when he ladled the food onto a plate. Far too

much for her, but she reached for a piece of the crusty, fragrant bread
that laid on a plate in the middle of the table and set to, leaving the
men to cope with the babies. “They love scrambled egg,” she said.

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She forgot to tell the men that the babies enjoyed playing with the
stuff, clutching handfuls to cram into their mouths, missing as often as
they hit the target, rubbing it into their downy brown hair and
throwing it on the floor.

Jag and Dion had lifted the carriers onto the table, and they sat in

front of them while Snub and Freckle ate. That made them perfect
targets for the food. Jag coped much better than Mia imagined he
would. He patiently picked up the mess, while Dion played with
Freckle, until he began to grow irritable and bored with his game.
Then Dion panicked and turned to her with a worried frown. “Did I
do something wrong?”

“Not really, but you should try to get some food into him. And

those sippy cups we bought for them yesterday. Have they been
washed? The boys should learn to use them. They never had them
before.”

She finished her plate of food, which actually tasted of something,

unlike the bland muck she’d been fed for five years, so tasteless that
sometimes she’d feared she’d lost her sense of taste. But no, this was
so delicious she could eat twice as much as the huge plateful Jag had
given her. “If I eat like this I’ll get fat.”

Jag grinned. “Good. You need more curves.” He turned an

embarrassed face to her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came
out.” Snub had finished the bottle Caroline had left ready for him, and
he was closing his eyes, his head nodding.

She smiled at the contrast between the craggy, dark Jag and her

sweet, precious son. “That’s okay. I used to be bigger. At first I used
to make jokes to myself about diets, but then I worried I really was
starving. They gave us just enough, plus supplements.”

Snub was asleep, but Freckle was still drinking, helped by Dion,

who had soon gotten the knack of helping the baby to hold the bottle
for himself. “You need to tell us,” Dion said.

“I do, but not in front of the babies. Oh, I know they won’t

understand, but it seems wrong, somehow. I’ve never showed them

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anything else but love. One day they’ll have to know, some of it at
least, but not today. I don’t want their lives tainted any more than
they’ve been already. Does that make sense?”

The men murmured, “yes, of course,” although she didn’t know if

they got it or not. Anyhow, she got up from the table and took her
plate to the sink, rinsed it, and put it on the drainer, because when she
looked in the dishwasher, she saw nobody had emptied it yet. It made
her feel like a guest, as little else had. She didn’t know where to put
anything.

However, by the sink, someone had stacked a pile of clean

washcloths, a few of the ones she had bought with Dion yesterday.
She dampened one and took it back to the table, efficiently cleaning
her sons’ hands and faces. Both were asleep now, their little chins
pressed into their chests. Smiling, she lifted Freckle down and
watched Dion do the same thing with Snub. The babies sat side by
side, sleeping peacefully. “I’ll take them up and change them soon,”
she said.

Dion and Jag exchanged a look, and Jag nodded. Were they using

telepathy? Jag had spoken to her last night. She still couldn’t quite
believe what she’d done with them, but it had felt natural with these
men. Right, somehow, although it couldn’t be. Or could it?

Dion pulled her chair back. “Come and sit while I get more

coffee. Then you’re going to tell us what happened to you.”

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Chapter Eight

She would not collapse. She refused to let the bastards win by

default. She’d held steady through everything, and she’d do it now.
“If I tell you, will you help me to tell the others people who need to
know? I don’t want to go over and over it. I want to put it behind me
now it’s over and start again.”

Jag reached out and took her hand. “We’ll do that, baby. Now,

just tell us.”

Dion watched her over the rim of his mug as he took a deep swig.

He put his mug down gently. “When did it start? Where were you
before?”

“Haven’t you looked me up? I thought you had my DNA.” But

she wasn’t on any criminal records. She hadn’t even been caught
speeding.

“We’ve been too busy,” Dion said with a slight grin. “What were

you doing? How old were you?”

Tears pricked her eyes. “I talked to my best friend last night. She

couldn’t believe I was alive, but she had to when I told her some
things only we knew about. She said my voice had changed. Then she
asked me when I was coming home. I can’t. I just can’t do it.
Everybody will know, and—no.”

After taking a sip of coffee, she started again. She had to try not to

get emotional. Whatever Dion and Jag said, she’d probably have to
repeat this more than once. But not all of it. She’d tell them, but she
didn’t want to repeat some parts. “I was—maybe am is better, because
I still have the qualifications—I’m an accountant. I was living in
Minnesota. I didn’t have immediate family. My parents died when I

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was little, and I was brought up by relatives. We grew apart when I
went to university. But I had my life and I enjoyed it. I was content.
Eventually, I thought I’d marry, have kids, go back to work afterward
because I enjoyed my job.” She sighed and pulled a comical face. “I
know, accountancy, right?”

Jag squeezed her hand. “Every business needs one.”
“Maybe you can take a look at our books,” Dion said. “It would

be more than useful to have somebody who knew what she was doing.
Every six months, I drop off the papers in town, and every six months
Guy sighs at me. He’s retiring soon, and he says he doesn’t have
anyone in his office patient enough to make the lists out of the bunch
of stuff I throw at him.”

She’d love to do something for them. They’d done so much for

her. “It would be a pleasure.” And she meant it. It had been so long
since she’d immersed herself in columns of figures, getting
everything just so before letting the program do its magic and help her
balance the books. She loved the patterns and the way they all came
together into a neat package. She carried on. “I drove a small Honda,
went to work every day and came home every evening. I went to wine
bars and bistros with my girlfriends, and we had the occasional treat,
going to Vegas or New York sometimes for shopping and fun. It was
good.”

She thought the look Jag exchanged with his breed partner was

one of horror. She smiled. She could imagine how, to these two, a life
like that would be anathema. “I enjoyed it,” she said defensively.
“Anyhow, one night I was late. I’d decided to leave my car at home
because it was wine bar night and I wanted more than one glass. I’d
just finished a set of accounts for one of the company’s biggest
clients, and my boss had as good as promised me a raise. Good times.
I got a cab home. It came, I climbed in, and that was when my life
changed. I wasn’t drunk, but I had drunk at least half a bottle, so I was
relaxed, I guess you’d say. I shared the cab with somebody who’d
joined the office a month before, but the junior staff had a pretty high

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turnover, so I didn’t think anything of it. Anyhow, to cut a long story
short—she knocked me out.”

Jag mumbled something, and Dion swore. “Fuck, did she hurt

you?”

“Of course she hurt me.” Mia laughed to see the men’s reaction.

What did they expect to do now? It had happened a long time ago. “I
got over it.”

Jag reached for her hand again, but she used the excuse of curling

her hands around her mug and lifting it to her lips. She didn’t want to
touch them while she told them the next bit. “I woke up—somewhere.
I didn’t know where. I was tied to a hospital bed, held down with
leather straps like I was a dangerous lunatic or something. There was
a drip in my arm. I was terrified. The top of my arm was sore, because
they’d tattooed it with that symbol. I couldn’t move, and I could be
anywhere.”

She took another drink and fought back her tears. “Do you have

any idea of what finding yourself in a strange place with nobody
around is? I shouted. I cried out. At first I thought I’d been in an
accident, you know, that the taxi had hit something. So maybe I’d
missed some time, and they were waiting for me to come around. I
wasn’t bruised, except for a place on my arm where they must have
injected me and the back of my hand where the drip went. So if that
car accident had happened, I’d been out for some time.”

She touched the place on her forehead where she’d had a huge

bruise that should have lasted for weeks. It was almost gone. “I hadn’t
been out forever. Somebody came in, a man in a white coat. At first I
was relieved, but then I got worried. The man examined me. He
checked the drip, took my temperature by sticking something in my
ear, and looked in my mouth. Then he pulled down the sheets and
took off my hospital gown.”

She blocked her emotions she felt from her mind. “He cut it off

with a scalpel. I think he enjoyed it. I was crying by then, asking him

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what was going on, but he ignored what I said. Then he touched me.
No man had touched me there. That was how I lost my virginity.”

“He raped you?” Jag said, with barely contained fury.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t call it that. He violated me, sure,

but rape? Not exactly. He broke my hymen, that’s all. Carefully, and
methodically, a man performing a procedure. A doctor. I think he was
a doctor, anyhow. He took some blood samples, and left me naked
and crying. A nurse came and unfastened my bonds, gave me a fresh
gown and some food. It was some kind of healthy slop. I didn’t eat it
because I didn’t know what was in it, and neither the doctor or the
nurse would talk to me.

“When someone came to take the food away, he talked to me. He

said, ’There are nutrients in the food. No drugs. If we want to give
you drugs, we’ll inject them. If you don’t eat the food, we’ll put a
feed tube down your throat.’

“I can remember what he said, because in all the time I was there,

hardly anyone spoke to me. I was a thing. I slept when I was tired.
There were no windows in the room, so I didn’t know what the time
was.”

She took another sip of coffee, pleased to notice that her hand

hardly shook at all. “Time passed. They fed me, and I ate the muck. It
tasted of nothing. Besides, by then I’d have been glad if they’d put
poison in it. I tried to get away a couple of times.”

She shuddered, but steeled herself. She could only tell the intimate

parts of her story once. “They didn’t punish me. They merely
catheterized me and fastened me down to the bed again. They left the
straps there, to remind me of what would happen. So I started to
behave myself, waiting for the time I could escape. I drank the water
and ate the food. I didn’t have coffee or tea or wine, or any of the
things that make life good. They gave me a fresh gown every day,
exactly the same as the last one, except a different color. Once I
realized, I took note of the colors. They color-coded the days. So even
if I didn’t know what day of the week they brought in the blue gown,

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I knew a day had passed. I arbitrarily decided that blue days were
Mondays.” The corner of her mouth quirked in a wry smile. “In fact,
it was Wednesdays, but I didn’t find that out for five years. When I
talked to a nurse about it, she didn’t seem to care, but she didn’t
answer me or put me right about what day of the week it was. I started
to count. I marked the metal bed with my fingernail every time blue
gown day came around. They didn’t seem to care, so I started
marking the wall. They ignored it. They must have known what I was
doing, but they didn’t care. I meant nothing to them. I asked for books
and newspapers, but they wouldn’t give me any.”

Her mug was empty, so she put it down on the table, staring at the

ridges and whorls on the polished wood. The room was ominously
silent except for the gentle breathing of the babies.

“When I’d been there a year, as far as I could tell, things changed

a bit. I had examinations once a week, and I’d started to look forward
to them. Sick, wasn’t it? They took samples of blood and my vitals,
and that was it. I knew everything in that room. If I hadn’t had my
imagination, I’d have gone mad because I had nothing to do.”

Even now, the memory brought a sick feeling to her stomach. “I

didn’t know why they wanted me. I saw three people the whole time I
was there—the nurse who looked after me, brought me the gowns,
and changed the towels in the bathroom, the doctor who took my
vitals, and the guard outside. Always the same man, and he patrolled
up and down, so sometimes I saw him and sometimes I didn’t. Then
one day a new person came, a woman in a white coat.”

“Could you recognize these people again?” Dion asked sharply.
She nodded. “Put them in a Where’s Waldo picture and I’d have

them all in less than a minute.” She’d had enough time to study them.
They’d look ordinary, nondescript, to everyone else. Even the guard
was of moderate height.

“I tried pleading with them all, and then threatening. The threats

were stupid. I had nothing, except a toothbrush, some toothpaste,
plain soap, towel, and toilet paper. They brought me tampons once a

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month. I’m not enough of a ninja to make a life-threatening weapon
out of those. But I did manage a few things. When they opened my
door, sometimes I felt a gust of air that wasn’t air conditioning. It was
outside. It smelled of something—vegetation and water. I bet you
didn’t know water had a smell, did you? When you spend your whole
life stuck in a room smelling of disinfectant and artificial air, you
notice.”

“We know.” Dion pointed at his chest. “Tiger.”
Ah, yes, that sense of smell. She smiled at her big man, and he

growled for her. That made her feel infinitely better. “They did
something to me that day, something different. I didn’t know what it
was, but I realized later. They artificially inseminated me.”

The atmosphere in the kitchen changed. It prickled with tension.

Yes, she knew why. They had tigers in that facility. “It didn’t take,
that first time. Or the second, or the third. They didn’t show any
surprise when I used the tampons every month. Then I fell pregnant.
When I didn’t have a period, I realized what it was soon enough. So
did they. The two doctors examined me, and they got very excited,
although they tried not to show me. They gave me pills and told me
they were vitamins. I have no reason to believe they were wrong. By
then I was kind of institutionalized. You know, I accepted what they
did as if it was normal. I went kind of numb. It’s hard to explain.”
Especially now, when she sat in this warm kitchen with these two
vital men. It would take a lot more work for them to become
institutionalized.

“I should have fought harder.”
“No.” Jag took her hand this time, and although she tried to pull

away, he kept hold of it. “If you had, they might have killed you.”

“Not when I got pregnant. Although I lost the baby after three

months, they changed toward me. They were more careful with me,
you know? So by then I’d realized they were inseminating me, and I
had visions of old movies where women gave birth to monsters. I
didn’t know, you see. I mean, I knew shape-shifters were dying out,

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because that had been on the news, but if I’d connected the two, I’d
probably have thought that my captors were shifters. They weren’t.”

“It was the Grid. They branded you, and they tried to make you

one of them,” Jag said.

“They were nicer to me. In their way. But I was still a thing to

them, not a person. I got pregnant again, and this time it took for four
months. Each time it lasted a bit longer.”

“How many times?” Jag bit out.
“Six.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, when I catch them I’m going to kill them!”
“We are going to kill them, my friend,” Dion said, and he sounded

scary in his determination. “We.”

Jag nodded at his breed partner.
If she didn’t finish this hellish story, she’d never do it. So Mia

started again, with the last part. “When I got pregnant with the twins,
they confined me to bed, except for bathroom breaks. By then I’d
gotten good at going through books I’d read, concerts I’d been to in
my mind, that kind of thing, just to keep sane. And I was still marking
the wall with my fingernail. The bed was close enough for me to
reach. When they hooked me up to monitors, they kept the monitors
out of the room. I got bigger and bigger, and then I popped. I didn’t
give birth naturally. They put me to sleep and did a C-section.” She
bit her lip. “I thought I’d never wake up. After all, they’d gotten what
they wanted from me.”

Jag shook his head. “They had a breeding pair and they’d found a

breedmate. Probably made one. They were lying about no drugs in the
food. They were giving you the same solution that got into the water
supply. That would make you more susceptible to shape-shifters and a
possible breedmate. Baby, you don’t have to say any more.”

“I do. I do. I didn’t know if my babies were alive or dead. I knew

there were at least two because I’d felt them in the womb. I used to
tell them stories. Stupid, really, but I wasn’t alone in that room
anymore. Then I was. But after a month, they brought them to me.

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They weren’t doing well. They were skinny, and they squalled too
much. They were starving, and they wanted their mother. Every day I
fed them and sang to them, and every day they took them away right
after they’d fed. They were healthy after a few weeks. When they
shifted for the first time, they scared me to death.”

She smiled. “But then everything fell into place. These people

wanted to make babies. I thought hard, recalled mention of the
financial scandal that had rocked the shape-shifter world. Maybe the
same people were responsible for this? These were shape-shifter
babies, and because of that, I needed to get to a community—
somewhere with people to help me. Where I’d sunk into despair, the
babies brought me back, and made me want to fight for them.”

“A mother tiger defending her young,” Dion said with a tender

smile.

“I’m not a shape-shifter.”
“In here you are.” He touched his chest.
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. She let it fall. “Thank

you. You have no idea how much that means to me to hear you say
that.”

She took a deep breath. “I recalled hearing something outside in

the moments when they opened the door to my room. ‘Goldclaw,’
someone said. ‘The tigers at Goldclaw would cream themselves if
they knew what was going on.’ I don’t know who said it, and I
pretended not to hear. I was in the bathroom at the time, and when I
came out, I behaved just like always. But I had a name now.”

“Somebody was stupid,” Jag said.
She nodded. “They changed the guard outside after that. This man

was smaller, and he whistled tunes. So I watched and waited. And one
day when I had the babies with me, I knew I had to move. The nurse
had said that they wanted to wean them. Just that, but I realized that
meant they’d take them away.”

She paused. “I’ve never been a violent person, but I managed to

get her unconscious. She liked shoes with spiked heels. I knocked her

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over, grabbed the shoes and hit her with them. Stabbed her, I guess
you’d say. The heels must have been made of steel or something,
because they sure made a mess. Then I grabbed the babies and ran.
The guard yelled, and I just kept running. At the end of the corridor
was a door, and I ran through it and kept going until I found a car old
enough to be hotwired. There wasn’t a car lot, because this place was
a whole lot of nothing in the middle of a whole lot of nothing.”

“Couldn’t have been Texas then,” Dion said. With the upturn in

her fortunes, he seemed to have regained some of his humor. “So how
did you learn how to hotwire cars?”

“It was Texas,” she said defiantly. “And I had a boyfriend once

who taught me. When I wouldn’t put out, instead of getting pissy, he
taught me something useful. Might as well learn one new skill, he told
me.”

“I want to find him and shake his hand,” Jag said.
“Me, too,” she admitted. “When I stabbed the nurse, I went

through her stuff and found a purse with a credit card, thirty dollars,
and a set of house keys. The keys were useless, but the card was
handy, because the car didn’t have much gas. So I stopped at a gas
station nearby, filled up the tank, and bought some stuff from the
shop. Then I planned to ditch the card because I knew they could
trace me with it. I found some stuff in the car, but nothing much, no
Sat Nav, or anything to guide me. And no phone. Seeing the way you
all have phones, I’m surprised.”

“She was probably told to leave her purse in a secure place. I’m

surprised at the credit card,” Jag admitted.

“It was stuck in a fold in the purse. She probably thought she’d

emptied it of personal items.”

Jag nodded.
She squeezed Dion’s hand. “The rest you know.”
“We do.” Dion got to his feet and drew her up, carefully, because

he was touching her broken hand. Then he pulled her into his arms.

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“They used you as a guinea pig and then found that they’d mated
you.”

Jag got to his feet with violence he barely suppressed. They were

interrupted by a cheery “Good morning!” as Caroline came through
the outer door. Mia pulled away, but Dion wouldn’t let her, holding
her close.

“I don’t want to sneak around,” he murmured. “What happened

last night—I want it again. We’re doing nothing wrong, nothing
shameful.”

He was right. She was so used to hiding her motives and feelings

that she’d instinctively reacted. Her heart beating hard, she stayed in
his arms and even returned his kiss, although he kept it short and
sweet. Very sweet.

Caroline’s silence was palpable. Mia had her back to the

housekeeper, but she felt the tension as it ratcheted up. Dion kissed
her again. “We’ll head into town this morning.”

That came as a surprise. “Why?”
Dion leaned back. “To make your statement to the police. Let’s

get the statement over with. Chris said anytime, so we’ll just do it,
okay?”

When she reluctantly nodded, he smiled. “That’s my girl. And

we’ll do some fun things while we’re in there. You’re an accountant,
so I bet you’ve had money just mounting up in your savings and
investment accounts. If you’re with a major bank, then we can check
your account while we’re there.”

“Lanier’s,” she said, knowing the answer. “Just before I was

captured, the bank imploded, with rumors of financial misconduct.”

Dion closed his eyes and groaned. “There might be something.

Anything anywhere else?”

She shook her head.
“They probably got her name from the client list,” Jag said.

“She’d have given them her details and her address and so on. They’d

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know she was alone, that nobody would be looking for her if she
disappeared. Shit.”

“Yeah.” Dion opened his eyes. “Okay, scratch the bank. Let’s

move on to other things. I want you to feel good, and a relative of
ours runs a spa in town. How about a bit of pampering?”

She shook her head. “As you just heard, I can’t afford it.”
“My treat.”
When did she last have her hair done, a facial, a manicure,

pedicure? A week before the Grid took her, that was when. She tried
for casual. “Why, don’t I look good?”

“You look gorgeous.” Dion kissed her gently. “C’mon, let me?”
“I’ll stay here and help out,” she said. “And what would I do with

the twins?”

“That’s the thing,” Dion said, his arms loosely linked around her

waist. “I have this cousin, Luanne. She’s twenty-one, and she’s just
finished her training as a nanny. She needs practical experience on her
resume, and she asked me if I knew anybody. I said I’d talk to you.”

Jag took a turn in the conversation while Caroline crossed the

kitchen and started to hum a tune, as if this had nothing to do with
her. Mia must have dashed her hopes, but she showed no sign of
disappointment.

Jag touched Mia’s shoulders, rubbing them, making her want to

sigh and lean back against him. “Baby, she’s good people, and she’s
young. You know how hard it is for them to find work these days.
And you’re tired. You need your rest, not to be getting up all night for
the twins. We thought we’d let her try out as night nurse, at least for
now. She’s coming around later, so you can talk to her.”

She felt overwhelmed, but the thought of a solid night’s sleep

made her dizzy with pleasure. “She has references?”

“No, that’s what she wants to collect. But we’ve known her family

forever,” Dion said. “It’s up to you, sweetheart, but if you don’t want
her, Jag and I will take over for a few nights.”

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Caroline slammed a cupboard door. “Anybody for coffee?” she

said cheerily.

“Only me,” Jag said. “The other two are heading on out.” He

tugged on Mia’s shirt, unseen by Dion. “Dion, go get the car. I’ll talk
to Mia.”

Dion shot him a quizzical look, but went toward the outer door.
Jag turned her into his arms and met her gaze, the expression in

his eyes softer than she’d ever seen. “Baby, do me a favor. Go with
him. Let him treat you.”

“Why?”
“Because while you’re wasting time at the spa and the boutiques,

we’re turning that nursery around. The second crib is arriving today.
The nursery is too small for two cribs. It’ll be hell to walk around.”

She nodded. Yes, she could understand that. It was a small room,

perfect for a new baby, less so for two six-month-olds, soon to
become toddlers. “But it works okay.”

“Dion has kept it like that for twelve years. Twelve years, Mia.

There was never any baby, but Dion fell in love with the idea of it. I
was never sure which one he wanted more—the woman or the baby.
Before the solution entered the water supply, mates were rare. Every
potential breedmate had dozens of pairs of potential breed partners,
and she chose us. She was young and sweet, but once we were
pledged, Dion was happy. Then she said she wanted children
straightway, so Dion set about making that nursery. It’s a memorial to
her.”

He kept her gaze when, uncomfortable, she wanted to move away.

“She’s long gone, and we’ve stopped mourning. Oh, we’ll always
remember her, but it’s time to move on. Your babies are a godsend. I
can use the size excuse and set up a nursery for your two in the guest
room next to mine. Have all the furniture moved, and start again.”

“But—” She couldn’t think of what to say. He phrased it like she

was doing him a favor, and maybe she was at that. “Won’t they be too
far away?” She was used to sleeping in the same room as the babies,

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so even having them in the next room had been a step further along to
independence.

“We have the baby alarm, and if you like her, Luanne.” When she

hesitated, he added a word she didn’t think he’d had much practice
using. “Please. Go into town. Keep him busy for most of the day.
When you get back it’ll all be done.”

“What about the babies? Will the spa accept them?”
He laughed. “Better not. The spa will probably love them. But

Caroline and I can cope. Leave us a list of what’s to be done. Better
still, write it and text it to my phone.”

“Wow.” She wasn’t used to the modern phone. “I could borrow

Dion’s.”

“I’ll get you one of the ranch phones. You can use that.” He

dropped a kiss on her nose. “Don’t worry, we have a contract. Plenty
of phones.”

The one he returned with didn’t look standard to her. “Switch it

on, put your name in, and you’re good to go. Don’t worry about
opening an account for the apps. We’ll sort that out later.”

That all meant nothing to her, until she was in the car and on the

way to town, feeling as if she’d been railroaded. Then what Jag had
told her about the phone made sense. The ease with which she got the
hang of it astonished her, and she was soon typing the babies’ routine
into the text app. Because, of course, the guys had gotten their way.
Had they snowed her?

Of course they had, but she wouldn’t have agreed had she not seen

some merit in what they said. She’d noticed the shrine-like quality of
the small nursery, and that must have been what bothered her when
she had first entered it. Yes, it was better to move on. Life never stood
still, or it should not, as it had to her for the last five years. “I have a
lot to catch up on,” she said, not realizing at first that she’d spoken
aloud.

“You do,” Dion said, his bronzed forearm resting casually on the

steering wheel. It was a fine day, and air flowed through the car. He’d

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105

provided a spacious sedan car, smooth and sleek, shiny black, very
classy. It made her unsure of herself, since she had one outfit and no
makeup. She felt like an interloper.

Dion looked the part. She’d become accustomed to his ranch

clothes, casual jeans and checkered shirts or T-shirts. Today he wore
expensive gray pants and a crisp white shirt that curved lovingly
around his neck, even though he wore it open at his throat. On the seat
behind, he’d tossed a jacket that matched the pants. He glanced at her.
“You look gorgeous,” he murmured, taking her hand. “Let’s stop at a
boutique first.”

“N-no, that’s okay.”
“Yes. I want the fun of helping you choose.”
He did, too. He drove up and down the main street of Goldclaw. It

looked like a small Texan town—which, of course, it was—recently
dressed up for the recent influx of tourists. “Parts of Texas are getting
like Cowboy-land,” Dion said laconically. “Looks like Goldclaw’s
joining them. But we have enough working ranches to keep it real.
We still need feed stores and livestock auctions.”

“Do you mind it?” she said, watching as they passed by an eatery

called “Grandma’s English Tea Rooms.” Bizarre, to find something of
that nature in a place where people came to find cowboys.

“Only when they hit on me.”
She thought he was joking until they left the car and he’d

shrugged on his jacket and popped his hat on his head. She had to
admit he looked very good. Very good, indeed.

He took her hand. “If you look at me like that,” he said smoothly,

“I’m going to back you up against the nearest wall and fuck you until
you can’t stand up anymore.”

The hot blood rushed to her cheeks, and she gasped. “You can’t

say that.”

“I just did,” he said, his smile turning smug.
They’d parked in the hospital lot. Mia wasn’t looking forward to

the next part. She remembered the hospital smell only too well, and it

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turned her stomach. For so many years, that had been all she could
smell.

Trying to hide her apprehension, she went with Dion to Trinity’s

office, where they were shown straight in.

Trinity smiled and got to business.
A half hour later, Mia left the hospital, stunned, her plastic brace

gone. She only wore a light bandage now. Her connection with the
shape-shifters had borne fruit, and the bone had healed. It hardly
seemed possible. As they left, Dion bent and nuzzled her neck. “Last
night probably helped,” he murmured.

“Glad to hear it did something for someone,” she said, her heart

singing at the memory.

“It certainly did something for me.” He helped her into the car,

and they took the short drive into the center of town. Dion parked
near the main shopping area, boardwalks sheltered by fancy canopies
bearing the names of designers and boutiques.

“You’re my protection,” he said, lacing his fingers between hers

as they strolled along.

“Against them?” She glanced at the customers browsing and

shopping. None of them looked dangerous to her.

She thought the two women walking past had overheard him, but

when one nudged the other and raised a brow, she realized they had
hardly registered her existence. They were staring at Dion. He
glanced at them, and then tightened his grip on her hand. “See what I
mean?” He led her out of the car lot and further up the street. “They
just look at me and giggle, and I think, what’s wrong with me? Do I
have a smut on my nose or something?”

Faint strains of music came from the open door of a pretty little

store, which had one dress in the window. That would be an
expensive dress, Mia guessed. “Do you want to go in?”

She shook her head. “That’s not a good look for me. You need

curves for that. And I don’t like the color,” she ended hastily, as his
mouth turned mulish.

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107

“Okay. Let’s move on. We’ll get you something nice, and you can

wear it for our visit to the police, then the spa, and I’ll bide my time
until you’re done.”

“I can drive.”
“That’s okay. I don’t have a lot of things to do today.”

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Chapter Nine

Dion wondered if the skies would open and the gods strike him

down for saying that. This was growing season, calving and foaling,
too. He had a shitload of chores and duties waiting for him at the
ranch, but nothing as important as this. He’d keep an eye on her all
the time she was in town. She didn’t seem to realize the danger she
was in. Either that, or she was willfully ignoring it. But he’d keep her
safe. He’d agreed with Jag that one of them would stay at the ranch to
watch the twins, and the other would stay with her. She had to see
Chris soon, and Dion was anxious to know what he’d discovered.
Why not treat his woman while they were here?

Because she was his woman. The moment he’d gotten her in bed,

he’d known. No, before then. When she’d opened her eyes and looked
straight at him at the scene of the crash. Something had gone out from
him to her then, and he didn’t know how to explain it, except that
he’d felt a connection like never before, though it wasn’t the
compulsion of a breedmate. She was already mated.

He’d hidden that, too, the fear that had haunted him since he’d

woken that morning. Somewhere, Mia had breedmates. Two tiger
shifters who had fathered her children. When he’d thought they had
fucked her, unreasonable jealousy had filled him with fury, but when
she’d told her story, he could only think of caged tigers—tied down,
captured, when tigers needed space and fresh air. It would be
complete and utter hell. Had they separated the breed partners? He
couldn’t imagine being close to Jag and yet not able to contact him, to
see him, talk with him, and laugh. Impossible. The Grid could block
telepathy, too. He couldn’t bear to think about isolation like that, yet

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he couldn’t get it out of his mind, ever since she’d told them. Except
for the time they’d spent making love.

Caring for her was almost as enjoyable as fucking her, but nothing

came close to that. It was more than fucking, more than watching
while his breed partner pleasured her. They’d reached a connection he
wanted more of. He needed it, to tell the truth.

He nearly collided with a woman clearly standing in his way, but

he dodged past with a smile of apology. Not that he should apologize,
but his parents had brought him up to be a gentleman.

He didn’t turn around at her whistle. Shit, this breedmate business

would be the death of him. He was sick of tourist women trying to
pick up a breedmate. He couldn’t have one, but the tourists didn’t
know that, and it didn’t stop them from trying. A few months ago,
intrigued by the novelty of tourists in Goldclaw, he might have gone
into town and let them charm him, but today it was only an irritation.

Now annoyance riled him up. “Can’t they see I’m with

somebody?” he said, not hiding his mood from Mia.

“I guess they think I don’t matter. Some women will elbow aside

any number of others to get to a man,” she said. “Sometimes they’re
good at pretending others don’t exist.”

He shot her a glance. “You never did that.” He just knew.
“No,” she agreed. “It’s not my style.”
Smugly, he recalled that, for all intents and purposes, he’d taken

her virginity last night. She’d never had a man before then.

“Don’t smile like that,” she said.
“Like what?” His smile broadened as he looked at her.
“Like the cat that got the cream.”
He stopped and did part of what he’d threatened. He backed her

against the nearest wall. They were on a boardwalk outside a line of
stores, fancy boutiques for the most part. Ignoring all these, and the
passers-by, he kissed her, making it thorough—sinking into her mouth
like he’d longed to do all morning. The only reason he could indulge

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himself here was that they were in public, and he couldn’t take this
too far.

“People will be watching!” she sent to him.
“Good,” he replied. “Let them. Maybe they’ll stay away.” Not

that he cared right now. They could take pictures for all he cared. He
delved into her mouth, triumph making his spirits soar when she
responded, stroking her tongue against his. He pressed closer. He
wanted those pretty breasts against his chest, and he’d get them
later—sure as fuck he would. His hat tipped back when it touched the
wall behind them.

“Dion Goldclaw, you are putting off my customers!”
He pulled away with a sigh, but couldn’t resist planting another

kiss on her mouth before he took her hand and pulled her to his side.
“Morning, Renata. This is Mia. She needs—”

“I can see what she needs,” Renata snapped, her smooth bob

stroking her cheek when she turned to study Mia. “Something a bit
less—informal.” She smoothed the skirt of her blue dress. Pretty.
Dion and Renata had dated a time or two, but it hadn’t really worked
for either of them. Now they were friends, despite the way they
sometimes snipped at each other. That was part of the fun.

“Yeah,” Dion said.
Mia shrank back, but Dion wouldn’t let her, curving his arm

around her waist and urging her forward. “This is Mia, and she’d like
something to wear for a visit to the police captain’s office. Then she’d
like—I’d like—something pretty. We’ll take the neat outfit now, and
I’ll bring her back later.”

He loved the expression on Mia’s face when she walked into

Renata’s boutique. She’d called it something catchy and touristy, but
he didn’t bother looking at the sign to check. This store had always
belonged to her, and before she’d changed the name, it had been
Renata’s. She’d always run the most exclusive boutique, frou-frou
place, whatever they called it these days, in Goldclaw.

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The shape-shifters here had never been short of money, just of

potential breedmates, and now that the world knew that human
females could mate shape-shifters, they were flocking in droves.

The air smelled faintly of something floral, not cloying, just fresh.

Clothes hung on racks, but not like the shirts in the feed store—close
together, any which way—but facing out, displayed in singular
splendor.

Mia gasped. Renata went into action, displaying the gift she’d

cultivated since she’d hit puberty. Before then, she’d told Dion, she’d
been a tomboy. He couldn’t believe it. The woman was always
polished, immaculately turned out. Of course, it was her job, but more
than that, it seemed instinctive to her.

Mia shone in this place, even here, with the perfectly polished

floors and the immaculately displayed clothes—a rare jewel, in her
jeans and T-shirt, and flyaway hair. She glowed.

Renata summed her up in a glance, and without hesitation, strode

across the floor, her heels clacking, and picked out a dress in emerald
green, with white edging around the sleeves and neck. Very simple,
and as Dion knew, very expensive. The simplest things often were.

Clever Renata kept a refreshment bar for customers, and Dion

made his way there while the boutique owner bore Mia off to try the
dress on. A cup of coffee and a muffin later, they reappeared. Dion
straightened up. “Shit.”

“Not exactly the word I’d hoped for,” Renata commented.
“I mean, wow.” He tipped his hat back. “You are amazing,

Renata. And you, Mia, are beautiful.”

That shade of green suited her perfectly. Her skin, pale from

spending too much time away from the sun, gleamed. He narrowed
his eyes. Yes, Renata had gotten her to apply some makeup, but not
enough to give her that painted look a lot of women seemed to like. It
only enhanced what was there to start with. Mia was lovely, and she’d
only get better once she’d spent some time in the sun and eaten good
food. He wanted to be there when that happened, so much that he

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ached with it. But if she found her breedmates, they’d claim her like a
shot. How could they not?

Ah, fuck, just when things were getting really good, he had to go

and spoil it. He’d have to talk to Jag about it later. Meantime, she was
his, and he’d take care of her.

Showing none of the problem stirring him, he made a twirling

motion with his finger and watched her smile and turn around. She’d
had too few flirtatious moments in her life. She would have a lot more
in the future. The view was good, too. Maybe she’d do that naked for
him later. He could think of lots of adjectives to make her blush. He
sent one to her now. “Fuckable.”

To his shock, she stiffened and stepped forward, poking him in the

chest. “I wanted businesslike.”

“That as well.” He refused to be perturbed. His mood was too

good for that. He enjoyed taking her out and treating her. He just
hoped she wouldn’t kick up a fuss in the spa later. This was too good
to miss.

First, business. “Do you feel ready?” He didn’t smile, but flicked

Renata a smile. “Thanks. We’ll see you later, after our appointment.”

Renata returned a professional smile, but as they were leaving,

said, “Catch the bastards, Dion. Show them what angry cats can do.”

“Sure will.” He lifted a hand in acknowledgement as they left.
The police station was along a ways, but not far. He debated

fetching the car, but when he mentioned it to her, she said she’d prefer
the walk. “I spent too much time locked up in small spaces.” He hated
the look on her face—fleeting—but the wistfulness was unmistakable.

So they walked, taking their time because Chris had said he’d be

there all morning when Dion had called him earlier. “I’m not a fool,
you know,” he said casually.

She turned a startled stare on to him. “What are you talking

about?”

He grinned. “I know you and Jag are planning to empty the

nursery.” The smile left him. That room had embodied everything

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he’d lost, reminded him of all he could never have—told him not to
dream. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” How to explain? He’d try. “In
the short time I’ve known you, you’ve performed miracles. I’ve spent
too much time in the past. It’s time to move on, Mia, and see what the
future holds.”

“She really hurt you, dying like that, didn’t she?”
He blinked. “It’s not as if she meant to.”
Mia shook her head. “Of course not, and I bet she’d have chosen

differently. But she didn’t have the choice. She left you before you
knew her.”

He paused. It seemed a shame that he had to look at the picture of

her he had in his room to remember what she looked like. They’d
known her for such a short time—barely two years—and then she’d
been taken from them. He’d gone over the event so much in his mind,
searched his thoughts, grieved for the shape-shifter children he would
never have. But with this woman, he could have human babies.
They’d be just as precious if they came from her.

The realization almost made him halt. Instead, he lifted her hand

and touched his lips to the back. “Thank you. The nursery doesn’t
matter anymore. I’ve moved on, at last. It might make a good
storeroom. Maybe we should have the bathroom extended. Would you
like that?”

She gazed at him quizzically, but she couldn’t ask him anything

because they had arrived.

In five minutes, they were sitting in the police chief’s office. Chris

had asked the fire chief and made a call to someone else. “They’re
here,” he said. A man walked into the room and closed the door
behind him. Chris introduced him as FBI Agent Cross.

Just as well that wasn’t the police chief’s name. Chris Cross

wouldn’t have gone without teasing at school. Dion contacted her.
“Do you want to tell your story to all these people?”

“I will if you stay.”
“I’m going nowhere.”

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He felt her relief, which surprised him, because normally only

breedmates felt each other’s moods in that way.

He was proud of the way she told her story, leaving out the most

intimate parts, but explaining that they’d repeatedly used artificial
insemination on her. Agent Cross asked her, “Did you at any time
consent to the procedure?”

The other men glared at him. Agent Cross, a man of around fifty

who reminded Dion of a weasel, glared back. “It could be important.”

“How the hell can that be important?” Chris demanded. “This

woman was abducted, held in captivity, and violated. Isn’t that
enough?”

“We’re only adding to the charges against whoever did this to

her,” Agent Cross said. When he smiled, his appearance transformed.
Now he looked like an angry weasel. “Sorry. Go on.”

She did, explaining that they’d only brought the children back to

her when they had fallen ill.

“We know they are hers,” Chris put in. “We did DNA tests.”
The Fed closed his mouth.
Mia’s story concluded, she leaned back. Chris had recorded the

session, and now he said, “We’ll get this typed up and then you can
sign it.” He smiled. “Sometimes paper copies are useful.”

Dion pushed back his chair. “Are you done with us?” He was

impatient to be gone.

“No,” Chris said. Dion sent him a firm-lipped look of

exasperation. “There are a few things we want to discuss. This
facility—can you describe it?”

“Plain, like one of those buildings people store things in. Two

story, I think, though I was never upstairs.”

“They kept you in the same room?”
“Yes, as far as I know.”
Chris nodded, then leaned forward. “How about cleaning?”
She paused. “I knew they’d lied about doping the food, but I had

to eat it anyway, or starve. I think they put sleeping pills into it when

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they wanted to do something. I only ever saw three people, and then
the guard at the end. So they probably knocked me out and then let a
cleaner in.”

“Thank you, Mia. You’ve been great. I think we can take it from

there.” When Agent Cross opened his mouth, Chris sent him a hard
glare. They wouldn’t discuss anything else until Mia had gone.

Normally he’d have let her stay, but she’d been through too much

recently. She was still fragile. While proud of the strength and
determination that had driven her to escape and protect her children,
he knew she needed respite before she had any more shocks.
Although, if she were going to get involved in what happened next,
he’d make sure she knew. A few unpleasant facts had already
intruded into his mind regarding the Grid and their unpleasant
practices.

He sent Chris and Noah a message. “Don’t start without me. I’m

taking her to the spa. They’ll take care of her.”

“Sure. Don’t be long.”
He wasn’t. The spa was across the street, which was why he’d had

the idea. He dropped her off, making sure the receptionist, a beautiful
and dangerous female shape-shifter who could have men dancing
around her in tiger or human form, knew to keep a close eye on her
and tell him if anything unusual happened.

She gave him a soulful gaze that melted his heart, and he couldn’t

resist stealing a kiss before he left. “Taking care of some business,”
he said. “There ain’t no place for me here.” When embarrassed, he
always went into “aw shucks” mode, and this was no exception. The
women here were gazing at him as if they’d eat him up. He left, and
went back to Chris’s office.

They’d poured him a whiskey. “Let’s get on with this,” Chris said.

Noah had taken a drink, too, but Agent Cross had stuck with coffee.

“Did you get the part about cleaning?” Chris said. His amber eyes

stared straight into Dion’s.

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Hard-faced, he nodded. “That building is full. They’d have moved

her if they could, at least when they cleaned the room. Much easier
than knocking her out.”

“Safer, too,” Noah put in. “We’ll get the bastards.”
“What did you get from the car?” Dion said.
“Should you be sharing this information with a civilian?” the Fed

protested.

The three men turned their heads and stared at him, silently

reminding him of their other forms. “We trust the citizens here,” Chris
said. “Besides, Dion is a deputy. I just swore him in.”

Dion had acted as deputy on occasion, but he wasn’t doing that

now. He was here to look after the woman who’d somehow crept into
his heart and taken residence there. Oh yes, he’d come to that
realization just about when she’d sent him that pleading look in the
spa. That was the yearning and the empathy. It was nothing to do with
mating. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall head-over-spurs for her.

“She said she never heard anyone else,” Agent Cross said now. He

took a long drink of coffee, and Dion got the feeling he was a beer
drinker from the way he went at that mug. “Do you think they kept
other women there, and brought the semen in from somewhere else?”

Dion shook his head. “Shape-shifter semen doesn’t stay potent for

long. Human semen can last for five days, maybe a bit more, if it’s
treated properly. Shape-shifter semen lasts a few hours if you’re
lucky. That is, the stuff stays fertile for that long. You can store it,
freeze it even, but the potency goes fast.”

“Wow.” The Fed actually blushed, a red tinge edging his

cheekbones. He took another swallow of his coffee. “Okay, so the
shape-shifter has to be close.”

“Shape-shifters,” Dion corrected him. “More than one. A breeding

pair, breed partners. It takes two shape-shifters to make a baby. Or
twins.”

“Oh, yes,” Agent Cross said. “Do they have to be breed partners?”

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The three shape-shifters nodded. “You can’t kidnap Chris and me

and try to make a shape-shifter baby,” Dion said. “We can make
human babies with a human woman, but not shape-shifters.”

“So,” Chris put in, “They had to kidnap a pair. And they knew

that. Not every human understands that part. They just know it takes
two shape-shifters to make a baby of any kind.”

Agent Cross nodded. “So we have a place full of women and

shape-shifters. Can we pinpoint its location?”

Noah cleared his throat. “To an extent.” He pulled out an

electronic tablet from one of the capacious pockets of his uniform
jacket. He wore the normal station attire—dark blue jacket and pants,
with a pale blue shirt, casually displaying his role without ostentation.
He switched on the tablet and revealed a map. “She lost some gas in
the crash, but she said she’d filled up at the station close to the
facility. From what was left in the tank and assessing what leaked out
in the crash, we can work out that she drove not less than forty miles
and not more than sixty. Sorry, we can’t be more accurate.”

“I can.” Chris flicked open the cover of a small notebook. “We

traced the credit card. Nobody reported it stolen, which was very
strange. If Mia was a professional thief, she’d have dumped the card
at the station or somewhere close, but maybe she wanted the security
of knowing there was money if she needed it. Maybe she planned to
use it again and double back. I don’t want to ask, because then I’d
have to find a way not to prosecute her.”

Ah yes, using a stolen credit card. Naughty Mia. He’d have to

punish her for that later. Dion suppressed his smile when he thought
of the ways he could extract penance—in the most pleasurable way
possible.

But back to business. He finished his whiskey, but didn’t ask for

another. He wanted a clear head, because he knew the conclusion they
had to reach.

Chris had identified the gas station from the receipt in her purse.

That meant they could find the facility. That meant they would have

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to take it down, and they’d have to do it, sadly, with the human
authorities. That was what the FBI man was doing here—ensuring
they stuck to the law.

Fuck. He’d have preferred to move in with tooth and claw and tear

the place apart. They deserved that, at the very least.

He could imagine so much more that he’d like to do with them.

* * * *

Mia felt fantastic, the best she’d felt or looked for years—five

years, maybe more—because the spa had worked really hard with her.
She had a fine gloss of makeup, and they had given her a wonderful
massage, before a manicure and pedicure. She had pale lilac finger
and toenails now, and she kept looking at them, admiring the polished
sheen.

Her nails were still short, but the beautician assured her that short

nails were in fashion right now. She hadn’t really rushed to the
fashion magazines when she’d escaped, but she enjoyed going
through a few now.

They talked about Dion and Jag, too, made sure she knew about

their tragedy. That could have been kind, or it could have been an
effort to ensure she kept her distance, because she wasn’t just a
newcomer here—she was a human one.

Only two of the women were shape-shifters, and when she asked,

they admitted to Mia that there weren’t many. “But Dion and Jag are
so fine, any of us would take them in a minute.”

She said nothing, only blushed, and wary of her children’s

security, didn’t mention them at all. Fortunately nobody asked if she
had children, although at one point the discussion covered the schools
and how they’d need new schoolteachers if more people moved in.

For the most part, she let them talk, and learned about local life.

Goldclaw seemed very much like other small towns, but sometimes
the women would jar her out of that by discussing the shape-shifting

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119

abilities of the inhabitants. “I heard they came from India,” one
woman said, “but they’ve been here as long as the Germans have been
in Fredericksburg, so they’re Americans now.”

Interesting, especially considering Jag’s ancestry. And he wasn’t a

native of Goldclaw. At last she had a question of her own. “If
someone moves here, do they take the name of the place even if they
have another name?”

The woman she asked looked at her pityingly, as if the question

was too easy to answer. “Of course. They don’t have to, but it’s what
they usually do. Where do you come from, honey?”

“Minnesota. We don’t have many shape-shifters there.” She left

out the five years, wondering how many people knew about that.
They must have heard about the crash, unless everyone attending the
scene had decided to keep it on the down low. That seemed unlikely,
given the propensity of small town inhabitants to take an interest in
everything happening on their patch.

The stylist whipped away the neck protector. “There. All done.

What do you think?”

She hadn’t realized Dion had come back until she heard his voice.

“Wow.” Smiling, the epitome of charm, he strolled forward, took her
hands, and placed a very gentle kiss on her mouth to the
accompaniment of feminine sighs from the onlookers. He didn’t come
away with any of her lipstick. How the hell did makeup artists do
that? Or maybe he was just being very careful.

He took her hand and led her straight out, waving at the

receptionist. The car waited at the curb, and he ushered her into it as if
she was a movie star. He made her feel like one. “You, baby, look
good enough to eat. Do you want to do more shopping, or go back
home?”

“Back home,” she said firmly. She didn’t want to be beholden to

him any longer, and he knew about the nursery, so keeping him out of
the way was moot now.

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“Renata will send some things to the ranch. She has your

measurements now, so you can choose from what she sends. You
can’t spend all your time in one pair of jeans and a T-shirt.”

“It’s more than I’ve had for years,” she reminded him dryly. “I

wonder what happened to my place in Minnesota? Guess I’ll find out
soon enough.”

He shot her a curious glance but didn’t say anything more. Did he

think she didn’t plan to go home? She had to sometime. She had
friends and relatives. True, she’d never been close to anyone, but
she’d like to see what had happened to them. And what about the job
she’d had? How had they coped? She had regular clients she felt bad
about letting down. She’d always had a reputation for reliability, and
that had gone along with her freedom.

She wouldn’t think about that now. She was too happy, a feeling

she’d had a problem identifying at first. “Nobody called me about the
babies.”

“They’re fine. I checked.” He glanced at her. They were out of

town now, heading back to the ranch, and although she hadn’t been
there long, she had a feeling of coming home.

The car slowed, and he pulled up at the side of the road. Alarm

filled her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Not a damn thing,” he said, and reached for her. For a moment

he shocked her, but then she sank into his arms and lifted her face for
his kiss.

He groaned into her mouth and crushed his lips against hers,

taking her in a kiss that melted every thought in her head except for
the heat of his mouth on hers, the invasion of his tongue.

“Fuck,” he murmured, backing off a little. “What you do to me—

the minute I saw you in that spa, I wanted you. Didn’t you notice?”
Taking her hand, he put it over his crotch, where a massive erection
stretched the fabric. “The other women did.” When she squeezed, he
moaned again. “Have mercy. Baby, I want you, but we can’t do it

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121

here. Or we can, but you’re gonna give the fine citizens of Goldclaw
something else to talk about.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered against his lips, and right then, she

didn’t give a damn. He could strip her naked and fuck her in the front
seat. She wouldn’t object. “I want you.”

He snatched another kiss, fierce and brief. “You should,

sweetheart. Stop tempting me. Let’s get back to the ranch, and then all
bets are off. Mia, my Mia, you have started a fire it would take a river
to put out.”

“Why?” She knew she was pretty rather than beautiful, and her

figure wouldn’t turn heads in its present state.

“Because you’re you. I don’t know. Why me?”
She widened her eyes. “You have to ask that? Every woman in

that spa couldn’t take her eyes off you. Do you want me to give you a
swelled head?”

“You’ve swollen enough.”
Grimly, he took her hand away and returned it to her lap, then

refastened her seat belt for her, and his own, before he pulled away
again, waving at a driver coming up close behind. “I guess Ernie will
make sure everybody on his milk round knows about that.” But he
grinned. “Ernie delivers to the old and sick, for the most part. He
scraped a living before he came here, but we look after our own.”

“Do you know everybody in Goldclaw?”
“Not now. We have a lot of new people.” He sighed. “I guess we

have to expect that with the new world we’re making. Strange to have
people flocking here, when we’d been just another sleepy Texas town
before. Jag used to say we were at the back end of Texas.”

Recalled to a sense of where they were and what they’d just been

doing, or rather, what they’d been about to do, she flushed,
uncomfortably hot, and stared out the window. They travelled to the
ranch in silence, the tension in the car palpable. Dion fidgeted once or
twice, and when she dared to shoot a quick glance at his crotch, she
saw he was as hard as ever.

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He pulled into the garage without waiting for the automatic door

to open completely, then drew up without bothering to straighten up.
“I want to see the babies,” she warned him, but he was already out of
the car and headed to the door on her side. He pulled her out and
towed her into the house.

“Hey,” Jag said, and stopped to stare. “Wow.”
She liked the “wow” but didn’t have time to show off as she

wanted to because Dion didn’t stop. His hand firmly around hers, he
carried on walking. With a low growl, Jag scraped his chair back from
the table and followed.

“The babies!” she gasped.
“Napping,” Jag murmured. “Get in that bedroom, woman. You’ve

been driving Dion wild, haven’t you? Now you can do the same to
me. I can smell it in the air.”

“Tigers,” she mumbled, but she couldn’t hide the way that made

her feel. If they sensed every time they turned her on, they’d rarely
get dressed. Although she should object to the way Dion treated her,
she wouldn’t deny that she loved it. They made her feel wanted in a
way nobody had before. Of course, these were the first men she’d
been to bed with, so she had nothing to compare them with. She
wasn’t sure she wanted anyone else, and she couldn’t imagine anyone
better.

Jag had the zipper of her green dress down before they’d crossed

the bedroom floor, and it slithered to her feet so she had to step out of
it. She left the shoes with it, as Jag curved his arms around her waist
and jerked her back against him. With a furious snarl, Dion spun
around. “Let her go. She’s mine.”

“Uh-huh.” Jag kissed her bare shoulder, shoving her bra strap

aside. It slipped down her arm, trapping it to her side as he kissed his
way up her neck in the direction of her ear. “Sue me,” he managed
between kisses.

When Dion stepped close to her, Jag growled low in his throat.

“Mine,” he said.

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123

“Ours,” Dion corrected him as he tilted her chin up to kiss her

mouth.

She opened her lips, and he ate at her, sucking her tongue into his

mouth and forking his fingers into her hair, holding her steady while
he methodically devoured her.

Jag unhooked her bra and cupped her breasts, pushing his big

hands under the fabric to tease and pinch her nipples. Tingles spread
from where he caressed her through to her back and up and down her
spine. She widened her stance, afraid she’d collapse, and received a
terse order from Dion. “Let go. We’ll catch you.”

“We’ll always catch you,” Jag added, firming his hold on her. But

she didn’t want that. She wanted to stand by herself, and that went for
out of the bedroom, too.

A steely snap echoed around the room as Dion extended a claw

and sliced off her panties. She mourned them, a new set that Renata
had given her, and the bra matched. He drew away and watched as her
pussy came into view, his gaze intent. A feral rumble sounded, deep
in his throat, nothing like a human sound. A matching one came from
behind her. Dion paced around her, and as he circled her, so did Jag—
cornering her, making her hold her ground while they surrounded her.

When she tried to take a step forward, Jag snapped, his jaws

clicking together in a gesture more tiger than man. He tore off his
shirt, the snaps popping in the fraught atmosphere, then unfastened
his jeans and shoved them down his legs. He’d already taken off his
boots, and he was in stocking feet. His socks came off with the jeans
and underwear, leaving him naked and rampantly aroused. His cock
stood hard and red, the tip damp with pre-cum.

Dion followed Jag, but kept his gaze on her, watching her like a

wild creature stalking its prey. His eyes changed subtly, became
glassier and more intent. Was this a partial shift?

An edge of fear thrilled her, pushing her further up into arousal,

but not the kind of fear that would make her stop this or the kind of
fear that might make her run.

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She kept her stance. Deliberately she widened her legs, revealing

her pussy lips. On instinct, she slid her hands down her body, shaping
her waist, trying to smooth the prickly, tingly sensation that had every
tiny hair on her body standing on end. The insane urge to preen took
her. Was she responding to the animal in their natures, taunting them,
teasing them into going that bit further?

They still didn’t touch her. She couldn’t stop looking at them. As

Jag disappeared behind her, Dion came into view, and then Jag again.
A soft touch on her flank made her jump. Rather than collide with
Jag, she dropped to her knees—eye level with his cock.

Lifting a hand, she grabbed his thigh and stopped his restless

prowling. Leaning forward, she took the hard, delicious shaft into her
mouth, thirstily licking off the liquid that he’d made, salty spice and
essentially Jag.

Jag snarled, but it wasn’t a warning, more a reaction to her sudden

move. Shock echoed in his voice as he uttered the one word, “Fuck!”

“Oh no,” Dion said. “I get to do that.” Roughly, but not so that he

hurt her, he shoved his fingers inside her. Two, she thought, but he
had large, capable hands, and it could easily have been one. No, two.
He fluted them, scissored them apart, and explored her, shoving them
deep, spreading them wide. It was her turn to cry out, the sound
vibrating against Jag’s cock.

“More,” he demanded, grasping his cock with a hand that

glistened with emerging claws. He must be fighting to keep them
sheathed, but he wasn’t totally winning. Tiger stripes rippled against
his thighs, then were gone. He was losing it, and she loved it, adored
the control she had over these powerful men.

Dion withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, the

movement so sudden she hadn’t expected anything so decisive.
Unlike yesterday’s careful loving, it could have been a different man,
but it wasn’t. It was her Dion, the man she—no.

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Instead of allowing unwanted thoughts in her head, she

concentrated on circling Jag’s cockhead with her tongue, scooping up
every bit of his essence. More—she wanted more.

Then Dion started to fuck her. He plunged deep, thrusting past her

most sensitive spot. She’d have howled if her mouth hadn’t been full.
Jag groaned and pushed his cock deeper. Only his fist wrapped
around the base, preventing him from deep-throating her. She didn’t
know if she could do that, but as it was, she adored what they were
doing to her. And those growls and snarls—they were so close to the
tigers that were their other forms. She’d never flown so high in her
life before, and never felt so safe yet so in danger in all her life before.

She sucked, licked, and caressed, but she couldn’t touch Jag

without losing her balance. He thrust into her mouth, but shallowly,
until she looked up and met his fevered gaze.

His eyes were almost all tiger—the same color, that warm amber,

but rounder, glassier. And still Jag. She’d know him in any form. She
heard his voice deep inside her. “You’re incredible. So good, baby.”
It felt deeper than his usual mental communication with her, intrinsic
to her, in a place where it was impossible to lie. She didn’t know what
to say, so she said nothing, but opened to him and let him feel her
excitement.

He showed his sharp, white teeth in a snarl and erupted into her

mouth. She should be afraid at this level of ferocity, but she’d never
felt so secure in her life before. They were letting her fly.

Behind her, Dion held her ass steady while he fucked her, his

strokes deep, working her G-spot every time he moved. He was deep,
so deep.

She swallowed everything Jag gave her. He tasted wild, of spice

and man and savage need. After she was sure he hadn’t any more to
give her, she licked him clean, not releasing him until she’d claimed
every bit of him.

And Dion was still fucking her. His steady strokes had built her

arousal up almost without her being aware of it, but she was close

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now. Her body fused in one huge peak, blossoming in an orgasm so
fierce that it took her out of herself and her existence. Time stopped
while her pussy throbbed and clenched Dion’s cock.

Slowly, Jag pulled out of her mouth, his face so blissful she

wouldn’t have recognized her fierce, taciturn Jag. No, not hers. This
couldn’t be anything but temporary. Not after so little time.

He lay down next to her and growled low in his throat, almost like

a purr. “My tiger wants to touch you,” he said.

“Yes!” she gasped but Dion claimed her attention.
Dion yelled her name and came, surging into her cunt and holding

her close while his cock pulsed inside her. Her thighs grew slippery
with their juices, and his breathing grew heavier. He leaned over her,
and sucked in air. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

Fur grazed her waist where his arms rested. He’d shape-shifted, at

least partially. He straightened, moved away from her. When she
looked around, she saw Jag. He’d gone full tiger.

Then she watched as Dion shape-shifted. He flowed from his

gorgeous human form into his equally beautiful tiger, no effort, no
muscle popping or pained screams like she’d seen in movies.

Dear God, she was in a room with two full-grown male tigers.

Slowly, ignoring the wetness on her legs and the slight stiffness in her
back, she got to her feet. The tigers were huge. She had never seen
live tigers before, and their sheer size amazed her. Their shoulders
came up to her head, and they had to be twelve feet long, nose to tail.
Terrifying. Or at least they should be, but she wasn’t afraid. “Should I
be scared?”

“Never.” Dion’s voice sounded strangely normal in her mind.

“You must never be afraid of us. We will protect you and the cubs
with our lives. Believe that.” He was a white tiger, his fur creamy
white, shading into a soft sandy color, the stripes stark against it.
“Touch me.”

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127

Her hand shook, but she laid it on his back. His fur was wiry, but

underneath, when she dared to stroke him and riffle her fingers
through it, it was soft as a kitten’s.

Jag made a sound. If it wasn’t so loud, she’d have called it a purr.

She turned her head to see him coming up on her other side and
nestling close. She stroked him, too. Jag was a golden-amber tiger, the
kind she’d seen in books. “Look,” Jag said, his voice softer in her
head than when he spoke out loud.

Mia lifted her head and saw her reflection in the full-length mirror

on the back of the closet door. They hadn’t closed the drapes, so light
streamed in, illuminating the astonishing sight of a naked Mia with a
tiger on either side of her. Their fur contrasted with her naked skin,
stroked her with a thousand tiny hairs, sending shivers through her,
but of sensual enjoyment. Her hands dug into their fur, and they
stood, surrounding her with their powerful bodies while she explored
them. “This is—I don’t know.”

“It’s right,” Dion said firmly. “This is how it should be. Us,

together.”

That sounded too permanent for her liking. “How can it be? We

haven’t known each other long enough. It can’t—”

Next to her, Jag rippled and shape-shifted back to human. It

wasn’t grotesque, as she’d always imagined a shape-shift would be,
but as if a powerful wave poured over him, distorting his form so that
it settled into a different shape—his human form. He stood, grim-
faced, and lifted her into his arms. “Maybe some rest.”

“The babies—”
“They’re fine. We need to talk.” He shot a glance at Dion, who

shifted in the same way.

Mia watched, transfixed. “That’s so beautiful. You’re so

beautiful.”

Lifting his chin, he glared at Jag. “I meant it.”
“So did I. Come and talk. You seem to have forgotten something.”
“I’ve forgotten nothing.”

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The talk passed her by. She snuggled into Jag’s chest, the soft

hairs grazing her cheek, reminding her of his other form. Jag crossed
the space to the bed and laid her down. “Now I know why the rooms
here are so big,” she said. “I never realized tigers were so large.”

Dion raised a brow. “In what way, darling?” Languidly, he

stretched out beside her. Jag took the other side, surrounding her
protectively as they had when they were tigers. “We’re bigger than
lions. We think we’re descended from Bengals, or an extinct form of
tiger. Some are bigger than us.” He glanced down at his cock, which
was already stirring. How could it, after what they’d just done?

“Your babies are going to grow into tigers our size,” Jag said.

“It’s good that you get used to having them around you. In time,
you’ll have to control them, but they won’t grow at the rate tigers in
the wild do. They’ll grow according to their human age, so you’ll
have time.”

Dion stroked her shoulder. “But it’s best if you stay in a

community like ours.” He paused. “Would you like to settle here?”

“In Goldclaw?” Jag put in. “You’re an accountant. With all the

new residents, people will need services like that.”

She nodded. Jag smiled. “Yes, I could do that. They were talking

about new schools at the spa.” She wouldn’t allow herself to get her
hopes up.

“I’d like her to stay here,” Dion said, but he sounded wistful. “It

puzzled me today, how I felt—why I couldn’t stop thinking about
you, and how different this is to any other experience I’ve ever had.”
He couldn’t be going where she thought he was. It couldn’t happen.
“I’m falling in love with you.”

It just did. It went to a forbidden place. She couldn’t do this. They

didn’t deserve this. They deserved a woman without history, a woman
who hadn’t been repeatedly violated. Even if it was without her
permission, they had used her, made her bear children to someone she
didn’t know.

“She’s mated,” Jag said sharply. “You know she is.”

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Shock ricocheted through her, lancing her so sharply she couldn’t

breathe. “What do you mean?” But she knew. She just needed time to
assimilate the knowledge. Before her capture, she’d only had a
rudimentary knowledge of shape-shifters and how their world
functioned. Some of her classmates at school were obsessed with
them, and others repulsed. Generally, they were regarded as different,
more animal than human. But they weren’t either. They were both.

She did know one thing. She held up her hand and turned it,

displaying her wrist, the skin almost transparent, the tracery of veins
blue. “Look. No wristbands. I thought breedmates who had sex
developed the bands.” Rings, some called them. “How can I be
mated?”

Jag covered her hand with his. His warmth calmed her some, but

her heart still fluttered and she found it hard to catch her breath. “You
had shape-shifter babies,” he said softly. “Only mated threesomes can
do that. Two breed partners and their breedmate.”

“The rings develop in their own time,” said Dion. He rolled away,

onto his back, and covered his eyes. “I realized what was happening
properly this afternoon. That is, how I felt about Mia, and what that
meant.” He turned his head and met her gaze, his own eyes bleak.
“When I thought we were just taking care of you, that was okay.
Protection, I thought. Then we fucked you, and it turned into making
love. I don’t know. Sometimes breedmates don’t live with the men
who give them children.” He met Jag’s glare. “That can happen.”

“But breed partners have priority,” Jag said.
Mia sat up and grabbed for the sheet, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Covering up was her first instinct. “What am I, property? It’s been
centuries since slavery was abolished. You know, one person owning
another. It’s my choice who I spend my time with.” Annoyance joined
shock to riot in her stomach.

“Yes, sweetheart, it is. But once you’ve taken the solution, the

formula that turns a human woman into a breedmate, then you react
the same way shape-shifter breedmates do. Except that it’s more

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extreme. You were undoubtedly fed the formula, probably an early
version. Then they mated you, and when they’d gotten the formula
right, you got pregnant. You probably didn’t develop the rings
because you never met them.” Jag stroked her hand and wrist, the
gentle touches helping her to assimilate the information they were
giving her. Yes, astonishing though it seemed, she was falling in love
with both the men. They were becoming indispensable to her.

“But they might be dead.” She lifted her knees and buried her

forehead in them, ashamed that she felt hope when she said that. Had
she really sunk so low, to wish for someone’s death? “They could
have killed them.”

“Not after they got you pregnant. They’d want to turn you into a

broodmare.” Dion turned back to her and stroked her arm. “I’m sorry.
It’s harsh, and they won’t get away with it, I promise you.”

“What do you mean?” She turned her head to stare at him.
“We have to take that facility down. We can’t let it exist now that

we know about it. We’ll raid it and capture the people inside.”

It sounded so easy. But it had taken her five years to get out.

“They must have lots of security. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so
they can see people coming.”

“We know some very friendly eagles,” Jag drawled. “It won’t be

the first facility we’ve taken down. Don’t worry. We’ll get them.”

“But they could get you.” Alarm superseded everything else, and

she dropped the sheet, reaching for Jag. Without hesitation, he took
her into his arms, holding her firmly.

“They won’t. I promise you.”
“How can you promise that?” She lifted her chin and stared

angrily into his face. “Anything could happen.”

“If we stay here, we could be swept away by a flood or a tornado,

or hell, a space rocket could drop out of the sky onto us.” Jag’s effort
to make her laugh failed miserably.

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Dion laughed harshly. “But they won’t. Listen, sweetheart. I

swear there will always be somebody to take care of you and the cubs.
Always. I can promise you that.”

“But what about my breedmates?” She didn’t know them. “God

knows I don’t want them dead, but if they’re saved, what then?”

“It’s most likely that you’ll go with them.” Jag tightened his hold

on her. “We shouldn’t be doing this, but fuck, I couldn’t stop myself.
Mia, when you take the formula, the breed instincts are increased.
They become more pronounced. Breed partners can’t help but be
drawn. You’ll feel a compulsion to go to them, and they will feel the
same for you. Once you have sex with them, the bond is complete,
whether you want it or not. That happens with ordinary breedmates,
but not with the same extreme emotion. We held off having sex with
our own breedmate. It was hard, but we could all do it and wait for
each other.”

“She was too young,” Dion said. “I remember. It was hard, but if

she’d come into contact with the formula, it would have been
impossible.” He spoke flatly, without emotion. “It takes a man with a
kind of madness. He has to get inside her or die. Once he’s done that,
his breed partner has the compulsion, but worse.”

“Wasn’t that how we felt?” Mia raised her head, almost smiling.

“Perhaps you’re mistaken. Perhaps she wasn’t your breedmate after
all.”

“She was,” Dion said heavily. He gripped her hand and raised it to

rub against his cheek. Stubble, hardly visible, prickled against her
palm. “I swear it. We don’t have that compulsion with you. We just—”

“Love you,” Jag said heavily.
She jerked around to confront him. Jag had his eyes closed, but at

her movement, he opened them and stared into hers bleakly. “What
we felt for Anna was something different,” he said. “We wanted to
protect you, take care of you and ensure no harm came to you or your
babies. Even when I didn’t know if you were a member of the Grid, I
wanted that.”

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Shock widened her eyes. He smiled wryly. “Yes, until we had the

DNA results, we thought you might have kidnapped the babies, and
that the guys after you, the ones that died in the crash, were the good
guys. It didn’t take long for us to discover the truth. Then I was
relieved that my instincts hadn’t betrayed me. Mia, we don’t have that
terrible need. Your breedmates might have had that compulsion to
mate. It’s impossible to say since we don’t know who they are. But
you don’t feel it, do you?”

“Only for both of you.”
Jag nodded sadly. “Normal desire is strong enough for us. Fuck

knows how breed partners keep their hands off breedmates if they’re
hit by the compulsion. And yet women come to Goldclaw hunting
that feeling down.”

“We know a little more about it,” Dion said. “Such as, not all

women are affected by it, and not all women who are affected by it
attract all shape-shifters in the same way. We don’t know if it’s breed-
specific or if there’s some other ingredient, some gene for example,
that enhances it or makes the woman attractive to a particular type of
shape-shifter. To say somebody is drawn to tigers, or panthers, or
eagles, seems to be too simple. But it could be that human women are
drawn to a particular type of shifter. So they probably tried you with a
few other breeding pairs first.”

Mia snatched her hands away and covered her face. “I wonder

how you can bear to touch me.”

Her men were there, surrounding her, holding her, their faces

close to hers. Jag’s hot breath warmed her left ear, while Dion
nuzzled her cheek. “No, sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault. But even if
you willingly had hundreds of men before us, what difference does it
make? We’re here now, and we are your men. Whatever you decide,
Mia, whoever you want to go with in the end, or even if you want to
go with nobody, we will support it, and we will ensure you get your
wish.”

“Because we love you,” Jag added softly.

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133

“I love you, too,” she said. “Both of you. But what are we to do?”

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Chapter Ten

Jag checked in with Dion and the others. They were all there,

except Chris, who couldn’t afford to take part in something the tigers
had no legal permission to do. If they applied to the authorities for
permission, warrants and the like, the delay would have been fatal,
perhaps literally, for the shape-shifters who were prisoners in this
place.

It was just like Mia had described it—a featureless gray box in the

middle of nowhere, a highway stretching for miles by the side of it.
The people inside could see anyone coming, or so they thought. But
the scrub of sparse bushes and trees half a mile away had proved
useful. Six shape-shifting tigers lay concealed, ready to move in, and
more were waiting a few miles away as backup, if they needed it.

Jag lay half-buried in the loose, dry dirt, his weapons slung on a

belt around him and tucked inside his loose shirt. It was dusk, and
they were waiting for full darkness and the change of shifts. They’d
used this time before to their advantage, and they planned to do it
again. He’d been lying here for four hours, stretching his cramped
muscles only when the scouts above and in the truck holding the
electronic surveillance equipment told him it was safe. Dion was
close, in the same situation.

Usually before a raid, Jag felt tense but excited, ready to face what

lie ahead and destroy whatever he found. This time, nervousness
invaded his concentration. He’d travelled here stealthily, aware of the
cameras the Grid had laid in place. The cameras followed the roads
for ten miles each way. Jag and his fellow tigers had simply avoided
the cameras by not using the road. They travelled in human form,

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135

because the sight of tigers in Texas just might arouse more suspicion
than someone who looked like a linebacker.

The scouts, eagles from the Great Wing eyrie way up north in

Washington State, had spent the last two days soaring high over the
facility with miniature cameras strapped to their necks. They’d
pinpointed the position of every camera and every outpost where
guards were stationed. One was a diner, one of those on a road, with
nothing else for miles. A quick attack at dawn had taken care of
business. Now weary travelers had their food served by shape-
shifters, though they wouldn’t have known it, and two surveillance
vehicles stood in the car lot. They had the appearance of delivery
trucks, but in the back was stowed a fortune in electronic equipment
and several geeks who were relaying information on a regular basis.

The eagles had done their job. This being tiger territory, the eagles

had backed off but were waiting in the diner and the garage where
Mia had stopped for gas, ten miles from the facility and close to a
small town. Backup could arrive at a moment’s notice. More trucks
would be arriving at the diner, ostensibly there to rest and eat, but
they were full of tigers waiting for the word to invade, doctors among
them, to minister to whoever they might find inside. From Mia’s state,
they expected weakness, near starvation, probably at least partly
induced to render the prisoners more helpless, weakening their
resolve so they wouldn’t try to escape. One doctor formed part of the
invasion party, but since he’d spent significant time as an Army
Ranger, he was easily capable of handling himself in this kind of
situation.

The legal aspect would take care of itself once they found

evidence of kidnap and capture, but they planned to gain ingress
legally, in case the courts objected. He was in there now, his car
parked outside, a salesman trying to sell them his company’s medical
equipment.

As night fell, spotlights came on outside the building—garish,

cold white, moving in a regular pattern that reminded Jag of prison

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spotlights. Appropriate, because this place was a prison. Mia had been
so lucky that the thought of it clogged his throat. She’d found just the
right moment to run, when her captors had believed that Stockholm
Syndrome was working with her. Now they knew about the
phenomenon a lot of kidnappers used to get their prisoners to work
with them and not against them. Thank God it hadn’t worked on her.
His brave, beautiful Mia.

The thought of her warmed him and made the parts of his body

stir that would be of no use to him now. She’d laugh if she knew how
he was feeling now, but they were too far away for telepathy to work
properly.

“I can hear you.” That was unmistakably Mia’s voice in his mind.

Faint, but there.

“What the fuck…?”
“I thought telepathy didn’t work long distance?”
“It doesn’t.” He couldn’t understand it. Only in one instance

could telepathy work that way, and it wasn’t that. Mia wasn’t his
breedmate. She couldn’t be. No rings, no compulsion, and most
importantly, she was already mated. But there she was. Could love do
that on its own?

This was new territory for him, but on the brink of storming an

enemy station, he had to make one thing clear to her. “Baby, we’ll
talk later. But you can’t do this right now. If I can, I’ll keep a contact
with you, so you know we’re safe, but for fuck’s sake, don’t talk or
distract me.”

A pause, then, “Okay. I promise. But it’s good I can touch your

mind. I’ll be here when you get back.”

That sounded good—so good he felt his determination and

concentration increase. Because he was doing this for her—Mia. If he
lost her to her breedmates, if they were still alive, then so be it, but at
least he knew he’d done everything he could to rescue them. He could
court her with a clear conscience. And courting he meant to do, if he
could. Good, old-fashioned courting, from taking her to a dance to

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necking in his car. He’d never had that kind of relationship, and
although it was late, he wanted it now.

But only with her. Knowing she could sense him made him

stronger. He wouldn’t contact her because he needed all his strength
and power for the coming operation, but she was here, and his heart
lifted at the knowledge. He didn’t have to ask Dion. His breed
partner’s satisfaction came through loud and strong.

A door opened, and their man came through. He carried an

innocuous-looking briefcase, and his jacket was thrown over one arm.
He contacted them immediately through the secure channel they’d set
up for the operation. Nobody could gain access to this one, not even
breedmates. “I saw enough. One prisoner through a partly open door.
She was lying on a hospital bed, and I’m sure I heard her say
‘Help!’”

“Get back to the diner. We need that information written down

and recorded. It gives us the excuse we need,” Jag said.

“On it.”
The man got into a car and started it up. They let him drive away

before they went into action. If the guard on the gate had tried to stop
him, they’d have moved in sooner, and fuck legitimate excuses, but
this way, anything they discovered was arguable in court. If it got that
far. Frankly, this time Jag didn’t give a fuck about legality. He’d have
stolen an Air Force plane and strafed the place with missiles if he’d
thought he could do it and rescue the captives.

The only thing they didn’t have was a ground plan of the building.

A dummy company had leased it as a warehouse, but obviously
they’d made a fuckload of alterations since then. They’d go by sense,
trying to discover the shape-shifters. But the whole of this place was
coming down, today.

Jag spoke again. “The shift changes in five minutes. Get ready to

go in on my word.”

He received acknowledgement from the team. He had a backup

radio, but they’d communicate telepathically.

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He partially shifted, so he looked like a human, but added the

special talents of his tiger. Keen eyesight, his senses of smell, and
hearing amplified, and his strength increased. So close to his cat, he
would carry shadows of it if anyone looked closely. He’d go full tiger
if he had to, and show them what it meant to have stripes and a long
tail. He smiled, baring his teeth, and felt the prick of powerful fangs
against his lower lip.

A man emerged from the building, shrugging on a navy blue

jacket. He had a cigarette clamped between his lips. He reached the
small cabin where the old guard stood, waiting for his colleague to
relieve him. With two of them out here, they’d feel stronger, and it
would take an extra guard out of the equation. At the same time, the
guard at the rear of the building would be waiting for his relief. Adam
and Odell Goldclaw were detailed to take them out.

“Time.”
Getting to his feet, Jag shook off the dirt and picked up his carbine

from where it had lain under his body. Slinging the strap over his
shoulder, he moved forward. Dion followed just behind, and the
others were approaching, their senses at full attention. The guard
didn’t notice him until he was three feet away.

Instead of using the carbine, Jag fired his HK fitted with a

silencer. Two fast shots and the guard went down. Dion took out the
other one.

The cameras would have them now, and they needed to move fast,

before the people in the building operated secondary lines of defense.
If they didn’t move fast, the Grid might take the worst possible
course—killing the prisoners before Jag’s team could get to them.

Jag reached the door to the main building and dragged it open, just

as the extra locks kicked in. They wouldn’t help now, not when he’d
gotten the door off its hinges. An open gap didn’t have much chance
of good security.

He smiled grimly as he ran through the opening, a sense of elation

filling him at the thought of this endgame. These bastards had

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139

operated in his area for far too long. Another man sat in a booth that
probably had bulletproof glass protecting it.

Using the extra strength of his tiger, Jag put his fist through it and

grabbed the guard by his throat. His look of astonishment would have
been comical had his eyes not bulged so much. He didn’t have time to
call out.

Dion was busy clearing the rest of the glass with the butt of his

weapon. Bulletproof glass was a bitch, and it had given Jag a deep
slice on the back of his hand, but already the cut was closing up,
thanks to his shape-shifter healing powers. Once they had the door to
the booth open, Dion slipped through and flipped a few switches.
They’d come across most kinds of security systems, and this seemed
to be straightforward. Jag was already moving forward when Dion
reported, “All cameras off. They’re working blind now.”

“Do the lights.”
Adam responded. He must have found the electricity supply. With

a clunk the lights went off. The tigers wouldn’t be as compromised,
but humans would have their mobility severely restricted. Jag’s night
vision set in.

They were leaving the rest of the electricity supply on for now.

Some of the prisoners could be hooked up to machines that should
stay on until they could get to them and free them.

Adam would be working on the telephone lines now, and outside

the diner, the team in the trucks would have operated the satellite
blocker that prevented them from making calls from cells. Jag had
implicit trust in the team working this gig. He’d approved all of them
and only chosen the best he could get. He’d been appointed team
leader, with Dion as his deputy, because of Mia’s involvement with
this place. And because he’d done this before.

Adrenaline charging through his system, he ran along the narrow

hallway that led from the outer door to deep inside the building.
Doors, all closed, opened on either side of it. He flung them open as
he passed, leaving the team behind him to check them out and deal

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with whatever they found inside. He was heading for the guts of the
place before they put it into lockdown.

Dion had his back. Once he’d dealt with the security booth,

evidenced by the muffled boof sound that came from behind them,
he’d raced up behind Jag. An emergency alarm was flashing, the
sound deafening, but Jag ignored it. People rushed toward them,
easily dealt with, but the ones who’d backed off were waiting.

At the end of the passageway, another corridor stood at right

angles to it. Jag sprang into the opening, ducked and rolled, while
Dion did the same in the other direction. They came up firing, no
hesitation, while they took out the people wanting to prevent them
from getting any further into the building.

The alarm stopped suddenly, leaving his ears ringing, the sound of

shots louder in the enforced quiet.

Then people yelled, and doors slammed. Jag moved. This was the

way into the heart of the place. With Jag watching his six, Dion raced
in further, ruthlessly dealing with whoever tried to attack him.
Normally they’d have been more effective, but the surprise of the
attack and the way they’d headed for the electronics first helped.

The men and women in the trucks at the diner would be working

hard, taking out everything they could, now that Adam had set up the
direct link. Jag knew he had, because if he hadn’t, Adam would have
contacted him to report his failure. Everyone had personal deadlines,
and Jag’s internal clock was counting all of them down. He would
know if one of his team were shot. If they were conscious, they would
report the failure of a target. Success didn’t need reporting.

He relayed his direction to the trucks as he ran and received their

reply. “Keep heading north.”

Dion shot someone. They wouldn’t kill anyone in scrubs or

hospital gowns until they’d assessed them. Anyone in a security
uniform was a dead person walking, or a live person secured by
plastic cuffs, waiting to be dealt with later. Once Chris received their
call, he’d send in the authorities. If there was anything left.

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The snap and ping of a carbine broke the quiet—one of the other

guys dealing with business. Jag kept his mind grimly on his task.

The next room contained geeks and computers. “Against the

wall,” Jag said calmly. One of the women screamed.

“There ain’t nobody going to come,” Dion said.
Jag shot him a glance. His breed partner was on edge. He only

went country boy when he was feeling the strain, reverting to type,
the way cowboys from Texas were supposed to speak. But he was
there, by Jag’s side, grim-faced and determined. He’d shoot if he had
to.

The two men and the woman stood and did as they were told.

They stood against the wall, hands by their sides, until Dion ordered
them to turn around and, ignoring their whimpers and pleads for
mercy, used the plastic cuffs on them. They might look harmless, but
they’d helped to imprison and violate people. There was no way they
could not know that, though they might not have seen it for
themselves. It still didn’t excuse what they’d done.

“Three prisoners,” Jag reported, “and a room full of computers.”
“Turn the computers off. Don’t do it with the software. Turn them

off at the wall. We’ll come to collect them.”

“Already being done.” Dion was turning off every wall switch,

ignoring the responsive winces from the geeks. That would freeze the
machines and stop any automatic programs running at closedown, like
wiping all the caches and memory.

“Come on.” Jag waved the tip of his carbine at the three, and they

shuffled out. The rat-tat-tat of an automatic weapon sounded from the
hallway outside, and the geeks fell to the floor. They didn’t even have
time to scream.

“Shit!” Jag glanced at Dion, and they silently crossed the room to

stand on either side of the door. Jag leaped into the space, crouching
low, firing high. Their attacker only got a couple of shots off before
Dion hit him in the body, forcing him to reel back. He followed it

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with a shot in the head as he was going down. Dion was one of the
best shots Jag had ever seen, particularly with a moving target.

The geeks lay dead, sprawled over the previously clinically clean

floor, the gray vinyl a drab background for the livid red of their blood.
“Whoever killed them was probably afraid of what they might have to
tell,” said Dion, stirring them with his foot. “A pity.”

Jag had never heard his breed partner so soulless. Love had

hardened his heart, it seemed—love for the woman they might lose in
the next few days.

He took care to secure the door to the computer room and send the

location to the techies. “Backup is on its way,” one of them told him.
He checked his mental clock. It was time for the next part of the
operation. They didn’t have long.

Methodically, they toured the hallways and rooms. This facility

had a central core, and they met up with Adam and Odell there. The
other two were still cleaning up. The backup group was moving into
place, and the eagles were still circling ahead, watching for
reinforcements from the Grid. None were forthcoming so far.

“We found a hallway full of human women,” Odell said, tight-

lipped. “One of them is pregnant. The others have stayed to guard
them.”

Jag nodded. “So this is the research area and the place they’ll have

the shape-shifters. Here we go, then. They’ll have barricaded
themselves in.”

Plastique took care of the locks. They were sophisticated, not

worth delicate treatment. As long as no shape-shifters were
immediately behind them, the captives would be okay. And as long as
the people inside didn’t decide to do away with them. The Grid was
that cold. Many considered shape-shifters little better than animals,
assuming that animals were superior, something Jag was far from sure
about.

There were more small rooms, designed that way to delay and

confuse them, but with experience of other facilities and knowledge

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143

of the way the Grid worked, Jag and Dion moved surely through
them. Adam and Odell followed behind, cleaning up, capturing
guards and medical staff, and finding a room to secure them in.
Altogether they found ten people, half of them guards, the other half
doctors.

And then the rooms Jag was dreading seeing.
The shape-shifters were alive. All male—three pairs and four

singles. Fuck knew if it had been seven pairs at one time. They were
all heavily drugged and had tubes going into their bodies. They’d
been there for some time, but they’d been cared for, fed and cleaned,
their bodies smelling of pungent disinfectant.

They were deeply unconscious, and on gurneys that would make it

easy for the backup people to come in and wheel them away.

Jag and Dion stayed with the captives until the teams had arrived

to take them. They’d go straight into the hospital at Goldclaw, the
same one Mia had spent time in when she’d liberated herself.

Were the fathers of her children somewhere here? Chances were

high that two of the inert bodies had unwittingly formed a breed bond
with her. Jag felt sick. He’d have to give her up to them, and the bond
would take them. They’d lost her.

They should never have fucked her in the first place, never have

taken her in, never have fallen in love with her.

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Chapter Eleven

When Dion and Jag walked across the threshold of the kitchen at

the ranch, Mia was waiting for them. It was late, or early, and they’d
refused to come back until they’d seen their mission to a close. Now
the women and the shape-shifters were in the hospital. They would all
live. She knew that much but no more.

They walked through the door, and Jag’s brows snapped together.

“You should be in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Do you want anything to eat or

drink?” She got to her feet, preparing to cross to the refrigerator.

Dion shook his head wearily. “We ate at the hospital. We’re just

tired.” He glanced at Jag. “We’ll sleep in our own beds tonight.”

“No!” she cried out instinctively, loss eating at her. “No, please. I

know you’re tired, and I don’t mind just sleeping. But not alone.”

When she went to him, he held up his hands, but they shook. “We

can’t. You know we can’t.”

“Mia, this is wrong. You belong somewhere else. We found ten

men alive, and six of them are potential breedmates for you.”

“Maybe the four singles…” Dion said softly.
“It doesn’t matter. They’ll need her, whoever they are, especially

if they’ve lost their breed partner.”

Mia folded her arms, hugging herself. “I can’t. Don’t ask me.”
“We won’t,” Jag said. “It will just happen, Mia.”
She shook her head. “How can it? I love you, both of you. How

can that change?”

“It maybe won’t,” Dion said softly. “But you’ll learn to love your

breedmates. It’s the way of things. How things are, and how they

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always have been. Even before the Grid invented the formula, the
mating call was strong.”

“Will they have filled the shape-shifters with the stuff?” She

wanted to know her chances. If it were only her, perhaps they’d resist.

Jag took a step toward her, his arms coming up, but then stepped

back once more and returned his hands to his sides. “No. They only
need to give it to the women. Then the woman turns into a magnet for
them. They can’t help it.”

She turned away, and her voice shook. “There’s no antidote?”
“No. It changes you at a fundamental level. There’s no reversal.”

Dion spoke softly, and she instinctively knew that if he had raised his
voice, she’d have heard a tremor in it. “Let’s go to bed. Talk about it
in the morning.”

Violently, Mia shook her head. “I can’t get into that bed on my

own. Not now we’ve—not now. Look!” she cried, in one last-ditch
attempt.

She faced them from across the room, and their appearance—

weary, dark circles under their eyes, their mouths flat and turned
down—plucked at her heart. They needed something. They needed
her, and she needed them—not just their support and reassurance but
their love. “I’m not their breedmate yet. I mean, yes, I bore their
children, but you said yourself, there were no rings.”

She stretched out her hands, as if inviting them to cuff her. “I’m

not bound to them. I don’t know how this works, and I suspect
nobody does. I love you, and I want you. I don’t want to spend tonight
alone.”

Jag shot a glance at Dion, but all his attention was for her. “My

love,” he said, simply and honestly. “We should not.”

Not “won’t,” but “should not,” she noted, triumph surging through

her. He was wavering. “What happens tomorrow?”

“We will go to the hospital, and we’ll see,” Jag said, turning

away. “Fuck, I hate myself for this, but I want your breedmates to be

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dead. I can’t believe I said that!” He struck the table so hard he left a
dent, but the sturdy piece of furniture withstood his brutality.

“Me, too,” Dion said quietly. He’d clenched his hands. “But what

can we do?”

“Negotiate,” she said.
“By all our laws and by the laws of nature, your breedmates have

priority,” Jag said, but this time it sounded more as if he was trying to
convince himself.

“I have no breedmates,” she said. “What if they feel the same

way? What if they’re gay or something?” That had never occurred to
her before, but now that it had, she could see how that would work.
She could live with that. “How does the bond work then?”

Dion’s laugh held relief. “You’re right. We don’t know. It has

happened. In that case, the bond doesn’t form. There’s no reason why
they can’t make children, using AI. It’s difficult to achieve, but it
happens—”

He broke off, staring at Jag, who shook his head. “We can’t

assume anything.” But a light dawned in his dark eyes, too, and
possibilities crowded into the room like living things. It might
happen. It just might.

“Tonight, my loves,” Mia said softly. “Our last, perhaps. If I am

bonded tomorrow, then so be it. But if I’m not, I’ll come back to
you.”

She had asked Luanne to stay over again, happy with the way she

cared for the babies. Mia had spent all day with her children, a
bittersweet time, because they might be the cause of taking her away
from the men she loved. But she couldn’t blame them for that.

“Promise?” Dion moved toward her and she to him, so they met,

and then it became impossible not to touch. His arms went around her
and hers around him, and their lips collided and clashed in hungry
longing. Releasing one hand, she stretched it out and found it clasped
in Jag’s firm hold, his hand wrapping around hers as if he’d never let
go.

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147

He moved closer, his body heat crowding into her, and when Dion

released her, she stretched over to Jag and kissed him, too. “It’s
wrong,” Jag whispered into her mouth, but he sounded like a lost
man.

They moved to the bedroom, but she couldn’t exactly recall how,

and by the time they reached the bed, they were all naked. Dion had
acquired a condom from somewhere, and he hastily applied it,
melting her with his concern and consideration for not only her, but
her unknown breedmates.

They didn’t exist, not tonight. All that mattered were these men

she’d learned to love. They were tired. They needed comfort, but so
did she.

Dion sat on the bed, and she moved over and onto him. He

protested, crying, “Wait!” but she was far too gone for that. He
touched her pussy as she slid down onto his waiting cock, taking him
with a slight wince as he stretched her just past what was comfortable.

He drove in. Jag lay on the bed behind them, resting his head on

his hand, watching intently, his eyes glittering. He reached up and
turned on the bedside lamp, so they could all see.

Dion powered in and out of her, and she used her knees to help

her respond, grinding her hips down onto him. She spread her hands
over his chest, his heat and strength overwhelming her, and she felt
the caress of his fur before he controlled his urge to shift and returned
to human. “You are so beautiful,” he told her, and from him, she
could believe it.

He brought her high and pushed her over the edge almost before

she was aware she was coming—so fast that she couldn’t mark the
stages, or even call out. She found his shoulders and hung on, sobbing
his name over and over as her cunt clenched his cock, forcing his own
climax.

Brief, but so intense it took her breath away. They hadn’t even

had time to kiss.

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They rectified that now, a luscious sharing of caresses, her breasts

pressed against his chest, his arms holding her tight.

Then gently, one hand on his cock to keep the condom in place, he

lifted her off him and laid her down by his side, getting up and going
into the bathroom.

She smiled at Jag. “Your turn,” she said.
By the time Dion returned from the bathroom, Jag was inside her.

“Oh, man,” Dion said, openly admiring them. “That looks so fine.
You contrast so well. Fuck her, Jag. Make her scream.”

“My pleasure,” Jag said, gritting his teeth as he drove deep inside

her. She cried out and arched her back, instinctively pressing her hips
into his, silently begging for more.

She didn’t have to ask. He pounded into her, almost punishing in

his relentless taking, fucking her until she could hardly breathe, and
still she wanted more. She gripped his forearms, holding on while
they shared their bodies, their minds, and their hearts. He moved as if
he couldn’t help himself, driven by savage instinct, and all she could
do was hold on and cry out “Yes!” with each stroke.

They ignored Dion’s muttered imprecation, and a moment later

she felt him in her mind, anxiously checking. “Is this too much?”

“No!” She wanted this more than she wanted life. This time Jag

fed and built her arousal steadily, urging her on. He tapped her flank,
a sharp contrast to the pleasure she was sinking into. It was enough.
She came. Beyond words, she gave one, long, wailing cry, aware of
her men’s eyes on her, watching and memorizing every move she
made. She arched, and Dion cupped a breast and pinched her nipple in
a way they both knew she liked. The sharp nip spun her higher. She
had never come for so long before. Time raced past while her men
lavished attention on her, and she could do nothing but accept.

Jag exploded inside her with a strangled cry, collapsed onto her

and rolled to one side so she lay between them. Nothing else would
ever feel this good again. She knew that now. She fell asleep cradled
between them, her love unmistakable and her heart given.

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149

* * * *

The next day the men left Mia in bed while they went into town to

talk to Chris and give their statements. Whatever they said, it didn’t
last very long, because they were back by noon. They ate together,
Caroline cooking them lunch in tight-lipped silence. The men came in
from the ranch and smiled at Mia, chatting about the difficult steers,
the frisky fillies, and the weather. Apparently it would be really hot in
a month, and hotter still after that. Mia enjoyed their tall tales,
wondering what to believe, and deciding to take it all with a pinch of
salt.

The men showed no overt signs of affection to her, reminding her

that they’d had their last night. They ate steadily, and then the men
went out to the ranch while she played with her babies. Then the
phone rang.

Someone must have taken it, because it stopped ringing. Footsteps

on the stairs told her someone was coming up. Jag. She even knew the
difference between their treads. Jag moved steadily and decisively.
Dion’s step was softer, lighter, even though his body mass equaled if
not surpassed Jag’s.

Jag entered the nursery and smiled. When she’d first met him, she

couldn’t imagine him smiling. Now she saw it every day. Or she had.

The smile disappeared. “The shape-shifters we rescued yesterday

are recovering fast. They’ve spent most of the time sleeping,
recruiting their strength. Trinity wants us to come in and talk to
them.”

That was all, but there it was—the beginning of the end for them.
Dry-eyed, she got to her feet. “Please, could you put the twins

down for their nap at four?” she asked a smiling Luanne. “I shouldn’t
be too long.”

“Sure, take all the time you need.” Luanne tickled a giggling

Freckle. “We’ll be fine.”

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“She really is great with the babies,” Mia said to Jag as they went

downstairs. “I might be able to take her with me when I leave.”

Jag took her hand. “If you leave.”
That notion she’d had last night about gay shape-shifters had

given him something to hope for. She felt it, invading her system, but
in her heart she didn’t know if she could dare to believe it.

Tension ratcheted up inside her as they drove into town.
Dion met them at the door to the hospital. He didn’t kiss her,

although she saw the desire in his eyes. She wanted to kiss him that
much and more, but she couldn’t. She was about to meet the men she
would fall in lust with, fuck, and live with forever.

Even saying it so bluntly didn’t have the right effect. She still

didn’t believe it. How could she fall out of love with the two men by
her side and immediately for someone else? Did they feel the same
way?

If her breedmates were even alive. She knew why she was here.

She had to meet them, and according to what they told her on the way
here, she’d feel the bond. They were in separate rooms, the breed
partners kept together. Most were sick, but recovering fast, thanks to
the shape-shifter’s accelerated healing ability. They were conscious,
except for two of the single men who’d been in captivity longest, by
the condition of their bodies.

And not all of them were tigers, only two out of the three bonded

pairs, which left six people who could possibly have a connection to
her.

As they greeted Trinity, Mia’s nervousness began to spiral out of

control. She swallowed back her terror when they walked up the
hallway that led to the area where the ex-captives were kept.

They would see the singles first, work up to it. Mia would rather

plunge in and meet the couples, but nobody else wanted it. Perhaps
the men wanted her until the last possible moment.

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151

Before they went into the first room, she knew the truth. Mia

turned her back on the door and the doctor and addressed Dion and
Jag directly, not caring who could hear her.

“I’ll never stop,” she said. “You have changed my life completely.

Even if I’d met you when I was an accountant, looking after the needs
of my clients in Minnesota, meeting my girlfriends on Saturday nights
for a glass of wine and gossip. Even if I’d met you then, I’d have
fallen for you. How could I not? I love you both, and it’s for keeps. I
will love you, whatever happens next. I swear it.”

First Jag, then Dion, lifted her hands to their lips and kissed the

backs in a wonderfully old-fashioned gesture. “Thank you,” Dion
murmured. “Ditto.”

“Yeah,” Jag said and cleared his throat. “I love you, too.”
Jag stepped back. “This is our last moment, Mia. Whatever

happens next, we’ll always be your friends. When you know the
situation with your breedmates, let us know.”

“Let you know?”
Dion stepped back, too. “You know this is the right thing to do,

Mia. You have breedmates.” He didn’t mention the possibility of one
of them being dead. “You have to go forward. They are the fathers of
your babies. But we’ll take care of the babies for as long as you need,
if you need that. Don’t let us down, baby. Be brave.”

Slowly, they separated from her, minds as well as bodies. Mia had

never felt so alone in her life before, even when she was captive in a
room, left to her own devices for years with no true company. She’d
learned to live on her own then. She didn’t want to relearn it now.
Everything in her reached out for them, but their barriers held firm.

If this had to be done, then it was best done fast, like cauterizing a

wound. But that wound would bleed inside for many years to come. It
might never heal. How could this be right?

“Call us when you’re done. You might want to stay in town,” Jag

said. “If you do, we’ll make sure the babies are cared for. Luanne will
stay on as long as you need her to.”

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The inner message was clear. Don’t bring the men to the ranch.

They were hurting as much as she was.

She nodded, understanding all they were trying to tell her. But she

couldn’t say good-bye. That would be like cutting her own throat.
Abruptly, she spun on her heel and went into the first room.

She came to a startled halt. The door closed of its own volition.

Mia stood with her back to the door, meeting the incredulous gazes of
the two dark, handsome men sitting in chairs by the two beds. Their
muscles were obviously wasted, but once they’d recovered from
captivity, they would be as strong as the men who had just left her,
every inch their match. An instant connection sped between them as
they sprang to their feet to face her.

“You’re my breedmates,” she said, the connection snapping

between them. “I’m Mia.”

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153

Chapter Twelve

Jag and Dion drove back to the ranch in silence. The countryside

they loved, the rolling hills of this part of Texas, the inevitable malls
that sprang up overnight, it seemed, passed the windows of the car
without either of them making a comment about the wind that had
sprung up or the white sky that heralded rain. Rain would be good,
and normally they’d be making plans to make the most of a spring
shower, but there didn’t seem a point to anything anymore.

Mia had gone. Soon the twins would go, too, the cubs who were

getting more playful every day. They hadn’t spent enough time in
captivity to be institutionalized, and they were loving the space in the
old guest room, rolling on the floor, even shifting to play together.

They’d be gone too soon. Her breedmates would be anxious to

claim their precious children. “We’ve lost two women,” Dion said
gloomily when they’d swung through the gates of the ranch. “Is there
something wrong with us?”

“Yeah,” said Jag. “We pick the wrong women. But I never felt for

Robyn what I feel for Mia. Marrying Robyn would have given her a
home and protectors, maybe children if she wanted them. I was hot
for her, but I never loved her.”

Dion drummed his fingers on his knee. “Yeah.” Not the most

scintillating conversation he’d ever had, but it was one of the most
honest.

The garage door swung up, and Jag drove into their accustomed

place. There was room for more vehicles in here, maybe one for a
breedmate. This place was built for breedmates, room for three
everywhere—big sofas, big beds, room for six at the kitchen table,

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bathtubs built for three. Dion was giving up trying. They should get
the builders back to make the changes and accept this was a two
person share, not for three. The sight of the empty space in the garage,
the three sinks in the bathroom hurt him too much. Perhaps in time, he
and Jag would find a woman, but never a permanent one. They’d tried
with Robyn, but they’d never shared a bed, and she’d found
breedmates of her own. Now Mia, the woman he would happily have
spent the rest of his life with.

He got out of the car and headed for the inner door. “I’m going to

the nursery,” he said. “Might as well make the most of them. I need to
bring Luanne up to speed, too. Then I’ll take a trip to the south field
and make sure they’ve repaired the fence right.” Where it had all
began with the crash. He’d shape-shift and get what solace he could
roaming the fields. Most of the cattle and horses hereabouts were used
to seeing tigers roaming free, but some of the horses could still get
spooked by the huge, striped cats. There shouldn’t be any on the south
field. Perhaps a run would help him shrug off the restless feeling he
had. It wouldn’t budge his depression, though.

He spent longer than he’d intended playing with the babies. He

rolled on the carpeted floor so they could play mock attack with him.
He couldn’t bear the idea of becoming some kind of uncle to them. It
was father or nothing, so it was nothing.

He didn’t doubt she’d find her breedmates in the hospital, and the

vague hope that they would be gay remained just that. There was
always that possibility, but it was too neat a solution, too tidy to be
possible. Life was messy. It never ended up as neat as the end of a
book or a movie. And if he held out any hope, he’d have his heart
broken all over again.

No, best to make the most of what he had while he had it. He

dangled a finger over Snub and watched him grab it, then gently freed
himself and tickled the kid’s stomach. They should really have better
names than Snub and Freckle. What had she said? Peter and John, that
was it. They’d make good names. Snub would be Peter, and Freckle

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John. The names seemed to suit them that way around. The babies
had their differences. As well as Freckle’s tiny mark just above his
navel, he was lighter in coloring. Their hair was only downy, silky
baby hair, but Freckle’s was brown, shading to lighter red, and Snub
had dark brown hair.

Dion’s mind went to the fathers. Were they brown, ginger, or

something else? He was blond, but only one of his fathers had light
hair. The other had hair almost as dark as Jag’s. His mother had been
a blonde, though. Pretty, adored by her husbands. They’d gone
together, in the same year, unable to live without each other. When
his blond father had died, struck down unexpectedly from a heart
attack, his breed partner and wife had lost heart. Dion couldn’t blame
them, although sometimes he wished at least one of them had wanted
him enough to live for him, at least until he’d gotten to the age of
majority. He’d struggled until Jag had come along. Dion didn’t get on
well without people.

Freckle chuckled when Dion teased him with his pacifier. He

didn’t use it as much now. Dion guessed the facility used them to
keep the babies quiet. They hadn’t found any more babies. Had they
just gotten lucky with Mia?

The formula made it possible for one woman to be a potential

breedmate for a number of males. Not him, of course—that boat had
sailed. But she’d borne children. These children. He stroked Freckle’s
little belly, and without warning, the baby shape-shifted into a tiger
cub.

He rolled onto his paws and staggered away, tumbling over a few

times. They were still small, uncertain, their paws too big for their
bodies. They’d grow into them, but he wouldn’t be there to see it. As
babies, they were beginning to crawl, rolling to their stomachs and
pulling themselves along. They just needed a little more coordination
and they’d have to be watched even closer than they were already—
more child-proofing, more barriers so they didn’t get hurt. Dion lay
down, shucked his clothes, and shape-shifted.

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Not at all abashed by the full-grown tiger lying on his side, the

cubs treated him like an obstacle and clambered over him, scrambling
with their new, sharp claws, occasionally clinging when they were
uncertain. He spoke to them telepathically, but used sounds and hums
rather than words, encouraging and laughing gently. He adored this
play. He wanted more of it. Maybe he could visit—no. Deliberately,
he put that notion out of his mind. This was his time, and he’d have to
make the most of it, because he wasn’t getting any more.

He rumbled, the tiger version of a chuckle. Today, of all days, he

was laughing. He never expected that, but life sometimes threw up
strange curves. He wouldn’t worry about it now. Live in the moment,
his mom had always said, and he was going to do that now.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs, too light for Jag. Caroline, then,

but he wouldn’t shape-shift back. She was used to seeing them now,
and she could throw a mean tiger herself when the mood took her.
Maybe she had a message.

Dion tensed. His phone hadn’t rung, but maybe Mia preferred to

send a message.

She stood in the doorway, in the full beam of light coming

through the big window behind him. Mia.

At first Dion thought he was seeing things, wishful thinking. But

she was blocking the light behind her, and she was smiling, although
she had tears in her eyes. “Fuck, that looks good!” Dion said.

Mia didn’t curse very often. Feeling oddly vulnerable, Dion

shape-shifted. The twins remained in their tiger form and clung to him
when his size reduced. So his first words were, “Ouch! Mia, cursing
in front of your babies isn’t a good idea.”

She swiped the tears from her cheeks. “No.”
More footsteps thundered upstairs, and this time Dion didn’t

mistake them. Jag stood behind her, his eyes wide. “Have you come
to collect them?” Dion asked, keeping his voice commendably steady.

“I’ve come home,” she said. “Will you have me?”

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157

Profound shock shook Dion to the core. With shaking hands, he

dislodged the twins and watched them shift back to human form.
Naked, they squirmed on the soft play mat. Dion stayed close, careful
to guard them. He couldn’t look at her.

“What are you talking about?” Jag said harshly. “Didn’t you find

your breedmates?”

“Yes.” She sounded much calmer than Dion felt. Jag’s tension

bled into the room. “I found them. We talked. They’re nice men.
Well, maybe nice is the wrong word.” She shook her head and made a
vague gesture with her hand. “May I come in?”

“These are your children.”
“Luanne’s coming upstairs. You might want to—I don’t know.”
Dion shrugged and got to his feet before climbing back into his

pants. “Let’s go next door.” Into Jag’s room.

Jag kept his room more somber than most of the rooms in the

house. He liked the darker colors, he said, although the lighter palette
in the main room, the one Dion would always think of as Mia’s, had
never bothered him. The dark-green upholstery and carpet, with the
dark mahogany furniture, seemed appropriate for a meeting like this.

Dion sat on the bed, and after a little hesitation, Mia took the big

chair by the window, the one Jag used for reading. Dion stayed on his
feet. Mia glared at him. “Do you mind? You’re really intimidating
like that.”

With a slight smile at her feistiness, Jag sat next to Dion on the

bed, but left clear air between them. They needed to hold themselves
together for what was coming next.

“Their names are Vincente and Nerio Wilde. They live near

Washington, DC, and they work as bodyguards.”

“Big, Italian, and handsome,” Dion groused. He shook his head.

“Sorry. Go on.”

“Yes on all three. They were kidnapped when they took a job

protecting a senator.”

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The implications of that simple statement jolted Dion. “Was the

senator involved?”

“They think he might be. Now that they’re free, they want to

pursue that. They say the investigation could get dangerous. When I
told them about the babies, they were worried. Seriously worried.”

“Not pleased?” Jag said. “Not at all?”
Mia frowned. “Proud, I’d say. What they’re going to do might be

dangerous for the children, that’s all. And a wife like me, a human—
even with the gifts they can bestow—is vulnerable, too. They think
the scandal might go up to the top, but they’re not sure. Washington is
in turmoil.”

“Yes.” Dion sat very still, thinking hard. An operation like that

would endanger anyone close to the people involved. If the capture
concerned a senator, even the President, they were all in danger.
“What do they want to do?”

She shook her head. “They said the less we knew, the better. They

need to find out more first.”

“We’ll give them all the help we can,” Jag said.
A smile twitched at her lips but refused to fully form. “They said

you’d say that. They say, thank you—there is a way.”

“How?”
“Look after me and the babies.”
Dion wanted to howl. Look after her? “What kind of saints do

they think we are? If we sit here much longer I’m going to give up
behaving myself. I want you so badly, Mia, I can hardly breathe for
it.” Having her in the same room was torture. They couldn’t touch her
and keep their pride, their honor.

“They said to say this, exactly.” Mia took a deep breath. Her

breasts moved under her T-shirt. Her nipples were erect. Dion closed
his eyes and listened. “We, Vincente and Nerio Wilde, hereby
surrender any claim we have on Mia Butler as our breedmate. She is
free to find her mates where she wills.”

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159

The formal words had their intended effect. Dion’s heart thumped

just once, and he opened his eyes. “They gave you up?”

She nodded. “We all felt that we didn’t want to pursue anything

that had been started that way—forcibly, like being raped. Violated, at
any rate.”

Dion gave a low growl. So close to his animal, he could enjoy

tearing apart anyone who had made her feel that way. She didn’t show
the outrage he felt, but carried on. “They wouldn’t let me touch them
because they said that increases the bond. We all felt it, but it wasn’t
overwhelming, and they said that was because we didn’t touch. If we
do that, the compulsion could get unbearable. For now. They also said
that we could get over it. That we were still only potential
breedmates. Is that true?”

Jag smacked his fist against his hand, triumph in his eyes. “Yes, it

could be. Breedmates could always resist, if they didn’t touch each
other, if they went on. The yearning could decrease, and they could
even find new breedmates. It’s possible.”

“Does that mean your breed bond with Anna could be broken?”
Dion shook his head. “I don’t think so. We touched plenty. We

just didn’t go all the way. But I don’t know. I really don’t.” He turned
his attention to Jag. “Do you know?”

Jag grimaced. “I don’t know either, but I’ve never heard of it

happening. One and done, that’s what I heard. Except when a bond
hadn’t properly formed.” He gazed at Mia, drinking her in as if he
couldn’t get enough of her. “If you come here, we’re not letting you
go ever again. We’ll fight anyone who tries to take you from us to the
death. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She answered immediately and decisively, getting to her

feet and taking the few steps to the bed. She stood before them. “I’m
here.”

Jag touched one thigh and Dion the other, spreading their hands

over her flesh, taking her, claiming her. “You are ours, Mia. And your

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children are ours. One day we may make more, but human children.
How do you feel about that?”

“I can’t wait.”
Dion laughed, joy filling him in an unending stream. “I want you

as you are right now. All to ourselves.” He could hardly believe it.
What Vincente and Nerio had done was the greatest sacrifice any
breedmate could make. He suspected they didn’t expect to survive the
coming struggle, and he sent silent tribute to them.

But they had given him Mia. “I promise we will cherish and care

for you and our children all our lives. Marry me, Mia.”

Jag gave his rare laugh. “Marry me. I love you.”
She put her hands on their shoulders. “Yes. If you’re sure.”
With mutual desire, Dion and Jag curled their hands around her

thighs and pulled. She tumbled forward, laughing, onto them. They
separated so she fell onto the mattress, and then Jag tugged off her T-
shirt and Dion concentrated on her jeans. They had her naked in no
time flat, then wasted no time stripping themselves. Jag was as hard
as Dion, his cock straining for its home. “I’ve been like this since you
walked into the house.” He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Dion leaned in for a kiss, thrusting

his tongue into her mouth in rampant possession. “I want you, Mia.”

“Now,” Jag added. She grabbed his cock and then Dion’s,

drawing them together. Then she licked their cockheads, swiping her
tongue back and forth, sending fire right through him.

“Fuck, woman, do you want to drive me insane?” Dion groaned.
Jag just moaned. “Suck them.”
She did so, first one, then the other, then back to the first. Not

enough, too much—Dion couldn’t decide. His thoughts fragmented,
only one certainty firmly in control. If he didn’t fuck her soon, he’d
die.

He really thought that. “On the bed,” he said, when he could find

his voice. “Jag, underneath.”

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161

Jag shot him a glance and nodded. “Bareback,” he said. “There’s a

slight risk, but I want it.”

Mia drew back, but she still held their cocks, one in each hand

now. She couldn’t get her fingers around either one, but she had them
firmly for all that. “So do I. Any way you want me.”

They pulled their cocks out of her hands. Jag lay down on the bed

while Dion opened the drawer in search of lube. With relief, he saw a
tube and grabbed it. He broke the seal and spread some over his
fingers, while he watched the glorious sight of Jag’s cock entering
Mia’s body. She came down slowly onto him, her cunt gradually
opening to accept him. First the cockhead disappeared inside her, then
his powerful, dark shaft. Jag watched it happen, as did Dion. Her
juices seeped out of her, showing how turned-on she was—turning
Dion on even more.

But he had to be patient. She’d only done this once before. He

stepped forward to touch her rosebud ass, crinkled tight. It twitched
and she gasped, but she knew what to do. As he breached her slowly
with one lubed finger, she bore back against him. He smoothed his
hand over her back. “Relax, sweetheart. Breathe.”

She did as he told her. Jag began to fuck her, slowly moving in

and out, easing her into their lovemaking. Dion worked her, sliding
his finger around her incredibly hot little hole. The way he longed to
feel that around his cock made him flush hot and then cold. He forced
himself to hold back, to concentrate on what he was doing.

When she relaxed enough for him to add another finger, he

trickled some more lube around her hole. He should have warmed it
first, but now he curled his hand around the tube.

Opening his fingers, he stretched her. She flinched, but when he

touched her mind he felt no pain. “You’re doing good, sweetheart.
Keep going. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said in a beautifully breathy voice, totally

unlike her usual firm tones.

162

Em Ashcroft

Jag tugged her down for a kiss, his arm around her neck. Their

tongues twined, and Jag closed his eyes in ecstasy.

The movement thrust her ass up, and Dion could work her better.

She relaxed, and he breathed out in delight and relief. He could join
his lover—his fiancée, for God’s sake—and his breed partner. They
could do this. Together they’d make this relationship perfect.

Dion squeezed more of the clear gel over his cock, smoothing it

down, preparing it for her, and then touched it to her ass. She held
firm and pushed against him as he entered her.

So soft and hot, so perfect. She felt like hot silk caressing his

cock. Silk was one of the strongest threads in the universe, and the
fabric was unbreakable. It felt like that, a loop tightening around him
as if it would never let him go.

He thrust deep, letting his instincts take control, reaching with his

mind to touch theirs.

Jag still kissed her, but he started to thrust in time with Dion’s

deep incursions into her ass. They alternated, grazing first her G-spot,
then the tender spot inside her rear channel, slowly at first, but
escalating in tempo until she moaned. Dion’s balls touched her skin
with every stroke, and he heard the slap when Jag’s did the same.
They were pistoning now, slamming into her, and she was moaning
and crying, coming in long, hard ripples along her cunt and ass.

She was ready.
They changed the movements to in and out at the same time. They

had to work up to this, but she was fully open and ready to take them
in. When they decided to try for a baby, something that sent delight
through him when he recognized the possibility, they’d both fuck her
pussy, two cocks in there, seeking their own pleasure.

When they moved together, she tightened to sometimes

unbearable heights—so tight he wondered if he’d ever get out. And he
didn’t care. “Fuck, Mia, you feel so fucking good.” He’d lost it
completely. Mind, heart, and soul. She could have it all.

On the Prowl

163

She was still coming, harder and faster, building to a climax. Dion

gritted his teeth, holding on for the minute it took her to blossom as
sensation flowed through her.

Dion picked up her emotion, and it was that as much as the

fucking that sent him over the edge. He exploded, shooting jet after
jet of hot seed into her. Jag gave a helpless cry and did the same thing.

* * * *

Mia hung over Jag, panting as if she’d run ten miles. Jag smiled

up at her, his expression openly adoring. “You’re amazing, my love.”
He waited until Dion drew out of her, and then he lifted her off him.
Dion swept her up, his arms around her, and kissed her as he took her
into the big bathroom.

He kissed her while the tub filled, then helped her gently into it,

sitting opposite her while Jag climbed in behind. “So this is how it’s
going to be,” Dion said between kisses.

She could hardly believe it. “We can really do this.”
Jag placed a string of kisses from one shoulder blade to the other.

“Do you want to be the wife of a pair of ranchers?”

“Yes,” she said, sighing in pleasure. “More than anything. I love

you.”

Dion touched the third finger of her right hand. “We might not

give you mating rings, but I’m going to find the biggest diamond in
Goldclaw for that finger.”

“They’d better have two,” Jag said, touching her other finger.
Marriage to the men she loved. It didn’t get better than that.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Em is everywhere. She may be watching you right now!
Em Ashcroft is a woman with myriad lovers and a ton of stories to

tell. She is waited on hand and foot by her assistants. She lives on
chocolate and champagne, flies first class all over the world, and
dresses only from the best designers – when she dresses at all!

Em is creativity personified. She loves history, art, and naughty,

naughty sex. Sinful, beautiful and irresistible, she is everything she
wants to be.

Em has this thing about history. She spends a lot of time visiting

old houses and old cities, and taking a bunch of photos. She uses all
these in her books, and can’t stop researching. It’s an addiction, but
not one that she regrets. She also loves travel, but she does that as
much in her head as she does for real.

Then she gets up from her desk and she becomes someone else

entirely.

Visit her website at: http://emashcroft.com
Email her at: [e-mail]

For all titles by Em Ashcroft, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/em-ashcroft

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com