Contents

Title Page
Wolf Howl
Legal Notice

WOLF HOWL

by Isabel Dare

About this book:

Wolf Howl is part 2 in the Mountain Wolves series.

In one week, Kirk Anderson’s lonely life in the mountains turns upside down: he falls in love with a bright young painter named Leo,

and he discovers that he’s not the only werewolf in the world.

Unfortunately, the other werewolves are a biker gang who want to take over Kirk’s territory. Worse than that: they want to take Leo,

too. If Kirk wants to keep Leo by his side, he’s going to have to claim him…in front of the entire pack!

This book contains explicit gay sex scenes, including public outdoor sex, and is for mature readers only.

Copyright Isabel Dare 2013. All rights reserved.

WOLF HOWL

Leo sat on the folded, wrinkled sleeping bag and watched as Kirk pulled on his clothes.
Kirk’s movements were jerky and stiff.
“What’s wrong?” Leo asked for the second time.
He was getting cold sitting here naked, now that Kirk wasn’t holding him close, letting him share

his furnace-like body heat. But he didn’t want to get dressed, not yet.

When he shifted, he could feel a distinct ache in his backside, and he wasn’t looking forward to

walking all the way back to Kirk’s cabin. But maybe that wasn’t the reason.

Maybe he just wanted Kirk to touch him again.
“Kirk,” Leo said, demanding his attention.
Kirk was staring out of the shack’s grimy little window, his jaw set in a grim line. But as soon as

Leo called his name, he turned his head, and Leo could see the effort it cost him to speak.

“Intruders,” Kirk said harshly. “Coming up the road.”
Leo blinked, trying to sort that statement out.
There wasn’t any road here. They were on top of a mountain ridge that could only be climbed on

foot, as he knew to his cost.

“Where?” he asked cautiously, worried by the way Kirk’s jaw clenched.
“At the cabin.”
“But that’s miles away!” Leo said, shocked.
Kirk frowned. It was only a barely visible twitch of his brows, but Leo was beginning to learn

how to watch for such signs. Kirk wasn’t exactly a man of many words.

“Yes,” Kirk growled, and pulled on his flannel shirt.
Leo sighed as Kirk buttoned up his shirt, covering up the muscular bulk of his chest. He wanted

to run his hands under the shirt to warm them, but he could tell that this wasn’t the moment for that.
Not anymore. Damn it.

With a wrenching effort, he brought himself back to focus on what Kirk had just told him. “You

can hear sounds from that far away,” he said, rubbing a hand down his chin. “That’s…handy. Is that
how you found me?”

When Kirk didn’t answer, Leo went on, “When my leg got caught in the trap, I did call for help a

couple times, but I didn’t think there was anyone who could possibly hear me.”

He’d been so alone, and so miserable. It still felt like a miracle that Kirk found him.
Kirk shook his head, but he didn’t elaborate.
Leo stared up at him, baffled and uneasy. It was hard to know what questions to ask, especially

since absolutely anything to do with Kirk’s werewolf nature was apparently a highly sensitive topic.
Kirk seemed to think his heightened senses were a personal failing, instead of a potentially useful
talent.

“We have to go,” Kirk said, biting off the words as if they were hurting him.
Reluctantly, Leo began to cast around for his clothes. He wasn’t sure why Kirk was reacting like

this. Surely tourists drove by his cabin all the time, on their way up the mountain to watch the leaves
turn?

As he shifted, the ache in his backside flared up, and he winced.
Instantly, Kirk was there, kneeling in front of him, his hands on Leo’s shoulders, staring at him

searchingly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Leo said irritably.
If Kirk wanted to pretend he was invulnerable, so could he. And Leo didn’t particularly want to

admit that he was feeling a little lonely, watching Kirk cover himself up as if nothing had happened
between them.

It helped, though, to have those strong hands clasping his shoulders. He resisted the temptation to

lean into them.

Kirk’s dark, deep-set eyes bored into his. “Sure?”
“Well,” Leo said, then paused as more aches began to advertise themselves. Maybe the strong

man stance was overrated. “I’ll take a painkiller for the leg.”

Kirk nodded. He began to rummage in Leo’s backpack.
“Oh, I brought some honey-nut bars and water,” Leo said. “Grab those too, will you?”
Slowly, he pulled on his underwear, shivering at the feeling of the cool cotton against his skin.

Then he grabbed his hiking shirt and the wool sweater, which lay crumpled up in a heap on the
wooden floor.

The pants were going to be tricky. His bandaged leg felt stiff as a board, and pulling on

underwear hadn’t been easy, but the thick, heavy jeans would be much more of a problem.

As his head emerged from the wool sweater, his hair crackling with static, Leo saw that Kirk

was already completely dressed. What a pity.

Kirk laid out a strip of painkillers on the wooden boards, and behind that, a small heap of honey-

nut bars and a bottle of water. It looked strangely like an offering, Leo thought, reminded of the way
his Nana would set out food on her small altar to the house gods.

Kirk was staring out the window again, the flannel shirt tight across his broad shoulders. Clear

morning light shone on his features, highlighting the strong line of his cheekbones and picking out the
blue-black stubble on his cheeks. His jaw was set in a hard line, and he looked as remote as the
mountains themselves.

Leo gulped down cold water along with two painkillers, then opened a honey-nut bar.
He paused, looking up at Kirk. “Here, have one,” he said. “They’re good.”
The wrapper crackled in his hands; in the taut silence, it sounded as loud as a thunderclap.
Kirk turned, tension evident in every line of his body. “No time,” he said.
“Come on,” Leo coaxed. “You were up here all night, and you haven’t had breakfast. I’m sure

you need to refuel. And it’s quite a long way back.”

The transformation to wolf and back…assuming it didn’t somehow fall entirely outside the laws

of physics, it had to cost Kirk. It had to take a toll on his body.

Demonstratively, Leo took a big bite of his own honey-nut bar while holding another out to Kirk.

He licked his lips to catch every crumb; the crunchy hit of sweetness was just what he needed right
now. He needed to refuel, too, after a grueling trek up the mountain, followed by the most intense sex
he’d ever had.

He wasn’t sure how Kirk felt about any of that. Was he burying the experience even now,

stowing it away along with everything else that was related to the wolf?

Nobody could be that intense, that passionate, and then just pack it all away and pretend it had

never happened. Leo had to believe that.

He had to believe that Kirk wanted him still. Even though at the moment, Kirk’s body language

was completely closed-off, and he only seemed interested in getting back to the cabin.

Seeing that Kirk hadn’t moved, Leo waved the bar at him again, deliberately making the wrapper

rustle loudly.

Kirk glared at him and snatched the bar from his hand, then ate it in two snapping bites.
Wow. It really was like feeding a wild animal.
Leo resisted the urge to check his hand for missing fingers. That reaction was very telling. Kirk

might be in human form right now, but some of his responses were clearly shaped by the wolf.

“Have some water too,” Leo said. “And, um.”
He swallowed. Kirk looked as stormy as a thundercloud and about as approachable, and

suddenly it wasn’t so easy to ask him this.

Leo gestured at his bandaged left leg, then at the crumpled jeans lying in the corner. “Some help?

Please?”

With relief, he saw Kirk’s stern expression soften.
Whatever was between them, at least it hadn’t entirely burned itself out in a single conflagration.
Well, hardly. As far as Leo was concerned, it hadn’t burned out at all.
He watched Kirk drink from the water bottle in long swallows, and the way his throat muscles

rippled was…distracting.

It was impossible not to remember those lips closing around his cock, that muscular throat

swallowing around him. Or the way Kirk practically ate him alive, sucking his orgasm from him as if
there was nothing in the world that mattered more than Leo coming right now.

Oh god, Leo was probably blushing again; he could feel the hot rush of blood to his cheeks.
And he still wasn’t wearing any pants. The last thing he wanted to be doing at the moment was

put his clothes on, but there didn’t seem to be any help for it.

Kirk put the water bottle back in the backpack along with everything else, carefully stowing the

painkillers in an easy-to-reach top pocket. As he crouched there, dark curls spilling over his
shoulders, he seemed both familiar and alien, known and strange.

Then, his face still set in those grim lines, he came and knelt at Leo’s feet. Leo tried to keep still

as Kirk began to pull the jeans up his legs, lifting Leo’s bandaged leg to ease the heavy fabric over it.

Leo tried to assist as much as possible, lifting his hips—and oh, that wasn’t helping either,

because only a few hours ago he’d used those same muscles to arch up into Kirk, to lift himself up to
be pounded by Kirk’s cock.

His ears burning, Leo pulled the jeans over his hips, wriggling until his feet emerged.
Kirk’s hands didn’t linger, precisely, but they were warm, gentle, and firm as he fitted the wool

hiking socks on Leo’s feet.

Then there were the boots, with their long laces. Leo sighed, eyeing them with loathing. “You do

the left, I’ll do the right,” he said reluctantly.

He bent over the right boot industriously, sticking out his stiff, bandaged left leg for Kirk to work

on.

This way he could at least hide his face, and the tell-tale spots of heat on his cheeks.

***

Long before they finally reached the small path that led up the hill to the cabin, Kirk could tell

that the intruders were gone.

Their traces still hung in the air, thick with exhaust fumes, the scents of leather, metal, motor

oil…and that other scent, the one he’d smelled in town before. He couldn’t place it, but he knew it
belonged to the riders. It still had the same effect on him. It made his hackles rise and his teeth ache.

It made him want to fight. It made him want to sink his teeth into a living throat and bite and bite

and bite until the life ran out.

Kirk shook his head, setting his long hair flying. He hated this. He hated knowing how strong the

wolf was on days like these, the three days around the full moon.

He might be wearing the shape of a man, but it felt like a lie at the moment. He wasn’t fit to be

near anyone human, let alone someone as bright and beautiful as Leo.

“I don’t care. You’re still you,” Leo had told him earlier, with an impossible, unbelievable

certainty burning in his voice. Kirk wanted to believe him, but it wasn’t exactly coming easy.

“Okay, I didn’t ask you this before, and I hope you appreciate my restraint, but we’re nearly

there, right?” Leo asked, humorous undertones warming his light voice. He was limping more heavily
than before, leaning hard on the walking poles.

Kirk’s mouth twitched in a barely-hidden smile. “Yes.”
An hour and a long, difficult walk ago, Kirk had offered to carry him back to the cabin, but Leo

had refused so indignantly that Kirk had given in.

A pity. It would have been a tricky climb down the ridge, but he wouldn’t exactly object to

having Leo in his arms, nestled against him, for the long walk back. Kirk already had some idea of
what that felt like, but this time Leo wouldn’t be bleeding and scared and in pain.

“Oh, thank god,” Leo said, heartfelt. “I was about to break out the map and compass, everything

looks so different in the sunlight.” He stopped walking for a moment, rolling his shoulders as if they
ached. “I feel like a very hot bath and a very long nap, how about you?”

“Hmm,” Kirk said. He tried to ignore the images Leo’s words were conjuring up for him: Leo in

the bath, scrubbing himself with slow, languid motions. Leo in bed, warm and willing, sleepy and
content as he waited for Kirk to join him…

Unobtrusively, Kirk tried to walk a little closer, to catch even more of Leo’s amazing scent.
Leo smelled so good, always, but now his scent was even more compelling, full of musk and sex

and heat. It was maddening. A wild urge rose in him to ask Leo not to bathe, not to wash away any of
the evidence of what they had done. What Kirk had done to him.

Stop that, he told himself harshly. That’s crazy and you know it. You can’t ask him to go

around smelling like sex and sweat all the time just because you like it.

They crested the hill, and as the cabin came in view, Kirk’s daydreams blew away in a storm of

cold rage.

The metallic scent of the bikers drifted into his nostrils. There was a new note in it, something

sharp and chemical, lingering around the cabin.

The bikers hadn’t just invaded his territory.
They had marked it.
Leo’s mouth fell open. “What the hell? They came all the way up here to leave graffiti?”
Kirk couldn’t speak. He could only glare at the disfigured cabin and feel the anger burning in

him, like a hot coal in his stomach.

Bright, glossy red paint marked the rough-hewn logs of the cabin’s north wall, in the shape of a

familiar logo, the same logo Kirk had seen on the back of the bikers’ leather jackets. It was the
stylized shape of an animal skull, its mouth half-open, showing sharp and wicked-looking teeth.

The teeth of a predator.
The mark didn’t look quite like graffiti. It was too precise; likely they had used a stencil.
Its meaning was blatant. It made Kirk want to bare his own teeth and snarl back at the logo

defacing his home.

We were here. We know where you live. We’re not afraid to defile your possessions.
In its own way, it was as crude as a dog pissing on a lamppost in another dog’s territory.
The strong, acrid, oily scent of the paint mixed in with the other scents, tainting the air, muffling

the natural scents of pine and woodsmoke and earth.

For the first time he could remember, the cabin no longer smelled like home.
It smelled like danger.

***

From the kitchen window, Leo watched Kirk stalk around and around the cabin, his tall shadow

passing by again and again. He didn’t have a clue what Kirk was doing, and he wasn’t sure Kirk did
either.

Leo could understand Kirk’s need to scrub the paint off, right there and then, and he had no doubt

that there wasn’t a drop of paint left on that wall by now, but still Kirk was circling the house like a
hunting dog.

At least the intruders hadn’t tried to enter the cabin, as far as Leo could tell. It would have been

easy enough for them; in his rush to go after Kirk in the dead of night, Leo completely forgot to lock
the door.

He tried to explain that to Kirk, feeling guilty, but Kirk just looked at him with a faint frown and

said, “Nobody locks their doors here.”

Shows what you know, city boy, Leo thought to himself.
Sighing, Leo turned away from the window and back to what he was doing, which was—in

Leo’s opinion—the only sensible thing to be done right now: make breakfast.

Bacon sputtered in the pan as he tilted it this way and that, making the grease run. It was old,

blackened cast-iron, and it heated up quickly.

Leo didn’t feel all that concerned about the graffiti, to be honest. It was aggravating, of course,

but why take it so personally? Probably it was just a bunch of teenagers with nothing much to do,
tagging every cabin they came across. Maybe Kirk had a history with them, and this was just the latest
in a long tale of petty aggressions?

Restless and unsettled, Leo still wanted that long bath and even longer nap, if only to calm

himself down after his wild night, but his stomach was growling. One honey-nut bar wasn’t exactly a
big breakfast, and after that long walk back to the cabin, he felt they both deserved something better.

Leo broke some eggs into the pan, on top of the sizzling bacon. He wasn’t feeling patient enough

for oatmeal, and he rather thought Kirk would appreciate the smoky, animal taste of the bacon.

Or that the wolf would.
The thought made a shiver run down his back. The idea was still so strange that he approached it

by only letting himself think about it glancingly.

It wasn’t that he was scared, though Kirk seemed to find it baffling that Leo wasn’t afraid of him.

But how could he be afraid of Kirk, after their first meeting?

Leo smiled, thinking back to that moment. Whatever fear Kirk could inspire in him was spent in

those first five minutes, in some foolish idea that Kirk was a crazy loner who was going to shoot him
for trespassing.

After Kirk had rescued him, so calmly and competently, his bone-deep kindness only barely

hidden by his gruff demeanor, Leo couldn’t be afraid of him. No matter how much he growled and
glared. Not even if he turned out to have a very strange secret indeed.

Not afraid, no. But I can be a little daunted, he thought to himself. Daunted, yes. It was a good

word.

Kirk was so…intense. And even though he was clearly a very private man, Kirk was forced to

carry his secret on the outside, visible to everyone who looked at him by the light of full moon and
understood what they were seeing.

And now Leo was privy to that secret. He wanted to ask so many questions, but he hated to

hammer down Kirk’s defenses even more.

No wonder Kirk seemed to find it hard to face him this morning. Leo might well be the only

person who’d ever seen Kirk transform. Or the only one who saw it and lived, a dark voice muttered
in his head.

He was in love with a man who was also a wolf.
Leo tilted the pan, letting the eggs spread out evenly, then scattered some red pepper flakes and

salt over them as he thought about what that really meant.

Maybe it wasn’t the wolf part of that thought that made him feel like he needed to tread

cautiously, even in his own mind.

Maybe it was the in love part. Was he falling so hard that there was no way back, no way out?
And what if Kirk didn’t feel the same way?

***

Kirk sniffed at the morning breeze.
Leo was cooking again. Bacon and eggs. He didn’t need a wolf nose to distinguish those scents;

any human would have known them instantly, especially if they were hungry.

It was a delicious, hearty, hungry-making scent, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the cloud of

turpentine, paint, and motorcycle fumes. It just mingled with those vile scents, softening their rank
edges a little.

Kirk stamped around the front of the cabin once more, trying to obliterate the tracks of strange

boots beneath his own.

The tang of the intruders was still in the air, though he’d scrubbed the logs clean of their visible

taint.

He would have to go after them.
The intrusion upon his territory was intolerable, unthinkable.
Kirk had no idea what the bikers wanted, or what they thought they were doing by provoking him

like this, but it didn’t really matter. He had to put a stop to this, and he had to do it by daylight, before
they realized what they were really dealing with.

Bite them, bite them hard, pick them up by the scruff of their necks and shake them—no.
The wolf had its own way of dealing with intruders, but that wasn’t what he needed to think

about right now.

Until night fell and the full moon rose, he could at least try to be human.
A sound reached him, warm and familiar, lulling his fast, tense heartbeat into a slower rhythm

even before he recognized it. It was Leo, humming softly under his breath.

Kirk paused, rested one hand on the overhanging eaves of his cabin, and listened. It was that

same song Leo had sung in the bath; something old, in a melodious foreign language. It sounded like
French, or maybe Italian.

The song sounded melancholy, but Kirk tried hard not to take that as a sign. It’s just a song.
Surely Leo wasn’t affected by the intruders; he couldn’t smell them, couldn’t taste the utter

wrongness of them in the back of his throat. If Leo felt like cooking breakfast for the both of them, if
he was singing, that was a good sign, right?

Kirk shook his head at himself. This is getting ridiculous. You’re getting ridiculous.
The worst of it was that he couldn’t shake the memories of last night. The memories were so

vivid, so strong; he could live on those memories for a lifetime, and yet he was greedy for more.

The taste of Leo’s release, pulsing in his throat.
The thumping of his fist upon the floor as Kirk took him.
The desperate, half-choked whispers: “Yes—oh god—like that—”
Kirk sighed. He felt like knocking his head against the wooden logs until some kind of sense

returned to him.

Leo had shaken all his certainties loose, and he had no idea what to do about it. About him.
He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve Leo’s trust, and he had no clue how to go about

earning it for real.

All he knew was that he was desperate not to lose him.

***

Leo wielded a sharp-edged wooden spoon as if it was a cleaver, cutting the eggs and bacon in

half. He gave the biggest part to Kirk, sliding the eggs onto his plate straight from the pan.

Kirk began to eat immediately, falling upon the food as if he’d been starving.
Then, fork in hand, he paused, swallowed, and said “Thanks,” without looking at Leo.
Leo nodded and slid his own portion onto his plate, stifling an urgent desire to laugh. Clearly,

Kirk was trying to be civilized, though it was an effort.

Laughing would be entirely the wrong thing to do, he told himself sternly. He decided to

concentrate on forking eggs and bacon into his mouth, instead.

They disappeared nearly as fast as Kirk’s. It must be something about the mountain air; food just

tasted better here.

Or maybe it was the company. Even if the company was studiously looking down at his nearly-

empty plate at the moment, in a transparent attempt to avoid Leo’s eyes.

Leo wondered if Kirk had work that he was supposed to go to, today. He had lost track of time

entirely; all he knew was that tonight was full moon, which was not that helpful.

Of course, Leo had no particular reason to keep track. He didn’t have anywhere to go, or any

place in particular he needed to be. He still had a week to go on his planned hiking trip, and no one
was expecting him to come back early. Not that he wanted to go back to the city anytime soon…but
that was a thought he didn’t want to examine right now.

“What day is it?” he asked abruptly.
Kirk’s thick, dark eyebrows rose. “Tuesday,” he offered, after some thought.
Leo swallowed his last bite of bacon, with some regret. “Do you have a job to— I mean—” He

stuttered to a halt.

Suddenly, what he was asking felt incredibly intrusive. You’ve already seen him at his most

vulnerable, do you really need to interrogate him like this? What if he’s out of work and feeling
sore about it?

Kirk looked up from his plate at last. “Not today,” he said slowly. “I don’t work around full

moons.”

“Oh,” Leo muttered. “Of course.”
“Other days, I work as a handyman,” Kirk went on. “Carpenting, basic plumbing. Cutting trees.

Whatever’s needed.”

Leo blinked. This was new. Kirk was volunteering information.
Could he sense how awkward Leo felt, was he trying to put him at ease? Well, whether he was

trying or not, it was working.

Leo smiled at him. “So today’s a day off? And tomorrow, too? Well, then. We must find a way

to fill all that time.”

To his own ears, the seductive lilt in his own voice sounded borderline ridiculous. Oh man,

maybe he was laying it on too thick, but he couldn’t help himself. Please let him want me, please
don’t let this be over.

He watched Kirk’s features closely, and ahhh yes, that twitch of his lips, that was almost a

smile. It looked promising.

Then, abruptly, Kirk’s face changed again, closing down like a shop rattling down its shutters.
It made Leo want to yell with frustration. Why, why couldn’t things just go the easy way for

once?

“I have to go,” Kirk said, and damn if he didn’t look and sound exactly like he had the evening

before. His voice was rough and hard to understand, his face was closed down, and his shoulders
were wound tight with tension.

Leo felt like stomping his feet. It didn’t make any sense for Kirk to react like this again, not now.
This time, Leo knew his secret. There was no reason for Kirk to run from him.
“Why?” he asked, hearing that tension echo in his own voice. “Where do you have to go?”
“The bikers,” Kirk said, and holy crap, that was more growl than words, and now Leo knew

why his voice sounded like that. “If they’re still in town, I need to...talk to them.”

“You’re mad at them,” Leo said softly, trying to understand. “You think they left the graffiti?”
Kirk nodded, an abrupt, jerky movement.
“Talk, huh. You’re sure that’s a good idea?” Leo prodded. Talking isn’t your forte, especially

right now.

Kirk blew out a breath. “No. But…” he paused, and Leo could see him gathering his thoughts,

trying to find words for them. Whatever he was trying to say, it wasn’t coming easy.

“If they came back here tonight,” Kirk said then, very slowly, the growl a buzzing undertone in

his deep voice, “I—the wolf—it would be a challenge. Can’t let that happen.” He shook his head
slowly.

Leo bit his tongue. Don’t interrupt him, fool. He’s trying to share. But when Kirk just sat there,

glowering darkly at his empty plate, Leo dared to ask, “A challenge? What does that mean?”

Kirk’s eyes were dark and haunted. “A fight. To the death.”

***

“Jesus,” Leo breathed. His eyes were wide.
Kirk hated seeing Leo look shocked and worried like this. He’d seen that look far too often over

the past few days. He much preferred the sunny, happy, playful Leo who had practically purred at him
not a minute ago.

Well, you were the one to upset him, you dick, he told himself.
He really was an idiot. He shouldn’t have mentioned his plans at all. Maybe he should’ve just

said he was going grocery shopping. Again.

The thought revolted him.
No. That wasn’t how this was going to go down. He’d been keeping secrets for so long, he’d

forgotten what it was like to be around someone he didn’t have to lie to.

There and then, he made himself a promise: he would never, ever lie to Leo.
“Back soon,” he offered, going for a useless reassurance instead of a useless apology. No more

lies.

His chair scraped over the kitchen floor as he stood up. He hated leaving Leo alone, but it had to

be done.

Leo ran a hand through his disordered hair, then grabbed for the crutches. “Hang on.”
Kirk waited as patiently as he could, while Leo levered himself up from his chair.
Leo was getting better with the crutches, and he was walking easier, too. His scent was clean

and healthy, despite the slight bitter tang that Kirk knew belonged to the painkiller Leo had
swallowed earlier. Those were all good signs; they meant that his leg was healing rapidly.

The sunlight streaming from the kitchen window lit Leo from behind, turning the edges of his hair

into pure gold, like a shining halo. It gave him the look of a young and disturbingly handsome saint. A
disheveled, debauched saint in rumpled clothes.

Kirk locked his hands behind his back to prevent himself from reaching out and drawing Leo into

his arms.

He would hear whatever Leo had to say—some kind of admonition to take care, probably—and

then he would go and find those damn bikers, deal with them, and go through the change before
coming back to the cabin. He was not going to be distracted, not even by Leo. And he wasn’t going to
put him in danger, not again.

“Okay, let’s go,” Leo said.
Kirk blinked at him.
“What?” he said.
“Let’s go,” Leo said impatiently. “You wanted to go talk to the bikers, well, let’s find them.”
This was a complication Kirk hadn’t counted on.
“No,” he said, his voice heavy. “You’re not coming.”
“You’re not in the best place to talk to people right now,” Leo told him. “I’ll come along and do

the diplomatic bit, you can just stand there and glower.” He gave Kirk a sudden, sunny grin. “You’re

really good at that, did anyone ever tell you?”

It was like being attacked by a playful whirlwind. Kirk couldn’t begin to counter Leo’s

argument.

Probably because Leo wasn’t wrong. Kirk could barely find words right now, and the wolf

inside him was howling to get out and shred faces.

But both wolf and man were in agreement on one thing: Leo must be kept safe.
The bikers were a danger, and they couldn’t come close to Leo. They shouldn’t even see him.

All Kirk’s instincts protested against that idea. And soon the change would come, posing another
threat to Leo.

Kirk folded his arms. “No.”
“Aw, nobody told you?” Leo said, but Kirk could tell that he wasn’t fooled. The cheerful tone of

his voice didn’t mask the sharp look in his eyes. “Well, let me be the first to say that you are
tremendously impressive, especially when you fold your arms and glare like that.”

Kirk sighed. “You’re not coming.”
Leo’s chin set in a stubborn line. “We did this bit already. Come on.”
He was so beautiful like this, his face shining with defiant courage. Kirk unfolded his arms and

reached out, no longer able to help himself.

Leo’s shoulders were tight under his hands, but he only resisted Kirk’s touch for a heartbeat.

Then he let himself be drawn into Kirk’s arms, his head against Kirk’s shoulder.

“I need to know you’re safe,” Kirk said softly into his ear. It was easier to say it like this,

somehow. “Please. Let me do this alone. And don’t come looking for me this time, either. I’ll be back
in the morning. I promise.”

Leo blew out his breath in a long sigh. He didn’t say anything for a while, but his arms wrapped

around Kirk’s back in a tight embrace.

Then he said, his voice muffled into Kirk’s shoulder, “Fine. But you’re going to make it up to me

later.”

Kirk nodded and buried his face in Leo’s hair, basking in the warmth, the closeness, the scent of

him.

It was going to be very hard to let go.

***

Leo grumbled as he heard the engine of Kirk’s truck cough into life.
He grumbled as he gathered the dishes and plunged them into hot water, and he grumbled as he

dried them. He grumbled loud enough that he thought Kirk might just be able to hear him, with those
uncanny wolf senses of his.

Then he straightened up, stretched, groaned as a kink in his back unknotted itself, and decided to

change tactics.

He stacked the dishes, then put them back in the cupboard. The big cast-iron pan went back on

the stove after a quick rub with a paper towel.

“I’m going to take a bath now,” he told the empty air. “A long, hot bath in that great big tub of

yours. It’s going to take forever to fill and I will probably slip and fall to my death.” He paused
meaningfully. “But if I don’t, then I will just slide into that hot water…mmm…soap myself up…”

He had to pause again to laugh at himself, pressing a fist against his mouth to muffle the laughter,

because this felt utterly silly. Like having phone sex without a phone.

Still, if Kirk could hear the roar of motorcycles all the way from the mountain ridge, then maybe

he really could hear Leo, too. Right now.

“I need to clean up after last night,” he said, dropping his voice into a low, lascivious purr.

“After what you did to me, it’s going to take a long time for me to get clean. I hope you realize that.
I’ll be in the tub for quite some time…all alone…warm and naked…touching myself…”

Then he had to stop again, because his ears were heating up and he was beginning to feel the

effect of his own words.

He grabbed the crutches and made his way toward the bathroom.
“Waiting for you,” he added, softly, as he turned on the taps. “Waiting for you to come back.”

***

When Leo’s distant, wordless grumbles became words, Kirk nearly crashed his truck into a tree.
He kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and only just managed to keep the truck on

the road, swearing loudly as he took the next hairpin bend with unnecessary speed.

Over the familiar noise of the truck, Leo’s voice purred into his ear, soft and seductive.
Kirk’s heartbeat accelerated as Leo told him just what he was going to do…in the tub…all by

himself…

Damn him, Kirk thought with a reluctant smile. Leo wasn’t exactly making this easy.
He had to force himself to keep his attention on the road while Leo whispered in his ear, as

clearly as if he was sitting right next to Kirk.

Then the sudden sound of water splashing into the porcelain tub almost drowned out his voice.

Almost, but not quite.

Waiting for you. Waiting for you to come back.
Kirk sucked in his breath. With those words, the slightly theatrical, seductive tone in Leo’s voice

changed into one that was far more intimate; more heartfelt. It almost hurt to hear.

It made him want to skew the truck right around and drive back up the dirt road, take Leo in his

arms and never let him go again.

But he couldn’t risk it. He had to make sure that the cabin wouldn’t be disturbed again.
That nobody would enter his territory again, especially tonight.
He didn’t even know what he was going to do with himself when the change came. Run out into

the woods?

Maybe he should lock himself away again. But with the wolf at full strength, he might choke

himself to death in his eagerness to get away from the collar and chain. It would be better to just get
away, far away.

His fears that the wolf would harm Leo hadn’t come true, but he still couldn’t trust himself. He

couldn’t take the risk that he would try to hurt Leo in wolf form.

A shudder ran down his back, and he shoved those images far away, trying to lock the doors of

his imagination against them.

Whatever happened, he would keep Leo safe.
He would do anything to keep him safe.

***

Leo sank into the hot water, slowly, carefully, lowering himself gradually while keeping his left

leg mostly clear of the water. It wasn’t easy, and he missed Kirk’s strong arms around him, carefully
letting him down into the water.

But oh, the bath felt so good. His whole body seemed to come alive with aches and pains, yet at

the same time, the heat of the water was slowly unknotting the tension in his back, easing the strained
muscles.

The hiking trip might be a bust, but I’m certainly getting a workout, Leo thought, and he

couldn’t repress a snort of amusement.

A long walk in the middle of the night and back again in the morning, on crutches. That would be

quite enough to exhaust most people. But most of his aches seemed to be related to the vigorous sex
he’d had in between.

He sighed blissfully, slowly stretching his legs and letting the water wash over them.
And taking a nap on the floor of a mountain hut wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done,

either, Leo told himself with a smirk. With Kirk’s body heat all round him, he hadn’t felt the cold, but
it probably hadn’t done much for the stiffness of his muscles.

He reached up and found the sliver of lavender soap again, now perceptibly smaller.
Maybe I should buy Kirk some new soap.
That brought some questions to mind that he’d been ignoring. Did Kirk earn enough money to

live on, doing handyman jobs, like he said? Was Leo being a burden on him?

As soon as he asked himself the question, he thought he knew the answer. Kirk didn’t ordinarily

spend a ton of money on food, if his canned soup collection was anything to go by. That meant that
feeding Leo had to be a drain on his resources.

Leo had rented his own tiny city apartment to a friend, and thanks to the low-cost hiking trip,

there was more money coming into his bank account than going out.

If Kirk was going to let him stay here, Leo would have to persuade him that he could pay for

some of the food, at least.

He soaped up his arms, scrubbing at his armpits until he could smell nothing but lavender. It was

a nice, homey, relaxing scent, and he sank deeper into the water, breathing slowly.

Don’t fall asleep, he told himself. If Kirk finds you drowning in the bathtub, you’ll never hear

the end of it.

He smiled, imagining what Kirk would say to him, and how he would give Leo his fiercest glare

to mask his concern.

Leo probably shouldn’t have told him how impressive he looked when he did that. Kirk might

start taking advantage of it.

Oh, yes, please do, he thought with a small grin. Please take advantage of me.
He rubbed soap over his chest, his touch slowing, becoming sensual. It was easy to imagine Kirk

in the bathtub with him.

He would never fit, a relentlessly practical voice told him, but Leo ignored it.
Those were not his hands, scrubbing him clean, kneading his muscles to release the aches and

strains. No, they were Kirk’s…mmmm, yes, and now they were drifting down to his cock, which was

rising out of the water.

Kirk’s hands were much bigger, much broader, rough and callused, and his grip on Leo’s cock

was firm and demanding.

Ahh.
Leo arched up into his own hands, keeping his eyes closed to prolong the fantasy. In his head, he

could keep Kirk’s deep, rough voice saying, Good.

It didn’t take long, without a partner there to torment him and prolong his pleasure. Soon he was

coming into his fist, sighing with relief as the long shuddering waves crashed over him.

It wasn’t explosive, just a sweet release that relaxed him even further, though it also made him

long for Kirk to come back.

Yes, come back and see what you made me do.
With some effort, he sat up to wipe his messy hand on a towel, and then he sank even deeper into

the water.

He felt nearly boneless, adrift and warm and contented.
Softly, he began to hum under his breath, then sang in full voice, his light tenor echoing off the

tiled bathroom walls.

It was another old song that came into his head. A favorite of his mother’s, he remembered

drowsily as he sang:

There is a ship sailing on the sea,
She's laden deep as deep can be,
But not so deep in love as me...

***

Kirk parked the truck by the corner store. He was far enough away from the cabin now that he

couldn’t hear Leo any longer, and that was good.

Or so he told himself, though a certain emptiness in his heart said otherwise.
No, he was distracting you. Keep a clear directive in your head, or you’ll be lost.
Easy enough, on a day like this, to get distracted by all the sounds and smells and colors around

him, let alone by Leo.

Kirk drew back his shoulders and began to walk to the corner store.
The wolf might want to go around sniffing the streets to try and track down the bikers, but Kirk

had more resources than that. A man would do the sensible thing: ask Joan Grayson, the store owner
and an inexhaustible well of town gossip.

“Morning, Mr Anderson!” she called brightly from a corner of the store as he came in.

“Gorgeous weather, isn’t it?”

Kirk nodded, though she was still turned away from him, trying to lift a big box over her head

and onto a shelf.

“Let me,” he said, trying to keep his voice level and calm. It was even harder now than

yesterday.

She turned, and he stepped in and took the box from her hands. It felt fairly light to him, but he

knew his standards weren’t set to normal anymore.

“Thanks!” she said, stepping back as he lifted the box onto the shelf. “You came in at just the

right time, didn’t you? I usually have Jose to help me, but he’s off today.”

Kirk lined the box up with the shelf. It was a big bargain tub of washing powder, he saw, and

then the scent hit his nose. Entirely artificial flowers, with sharp undertones of soap and soda and
something else…lye, maybe? He didn’t know if lye still went into soap, but whatever it was, it
smelled pretty rank.

He dropped the box onto the shelf with a thud and sneezed.
“Oh dear, you’re not allergic, are you?” Joan said, looking concerned.
Kirk sneezed again and shook his head. “It’s just the soap,” he said. At least if his voice sounded

odd now, she would think it was congestion.

Joan walked back to the counter, smiling at him over her shoulder. “Well, thanks again, and if I

can help you with anything…”

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the lilting invitation in her voice or not. The acrid, sharp

scent of the soap temporarily blocked his ability to smell anything else, and he felt deaf and blind
without it.

Striding up to the counter, he said, “There is,” as matter-of-factly as he could.
She tilted her head, looking up at him as a bird might, all bright, sharp interest. “Yes?”
“I’m looking for those bikers that came past here the other day,” Kirk said.
Her face clouded over instantly. “Oh, really? You’re not—they’re not friends of yours, are

they?”

“No,” he said shortly. And then, knowing it would gain him sympathy and perhaps more

information, he added: “They came up to my cabin while I was out. Sprayed paint on the north wall.”

Joan gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. It was a little theatrical, but he had no doubt that Joan

meant it when she said, “Oh, what a shame. I can’t believe they did that. Well, what am I saying,” she
went on, scrabbling behind the counter until she found her crochet hook, then waving it in the air as if
it was some kind of weapon. “Of course I believe it. Why, you should hear what they did to Mr
Mason at the drugstore. They tried to get some prescription drugs from him—without a prescription!
—and when he refused, they threatened him. It was awful. He says he didn’t sleep a wink all night.”

Kirk dug his fingers into the counter, feeling the itch of claws waiting to emerge. “Where are

they now?”

Joan paused, giving him another of those sharp, bird-eyed looks. “You’re not going to cause any

trouble for yourself, I trust?”

Kirk said nothing. He wasn’t going to lie about this, either. Every instinct he had told him to run

the bikers out of town, get them out of his territory. They weren’t just threatening him; they were
threatening his people.

This town belonged to him, and he was going to protect it.
Joan sighed and put down the crochet hook. “They’re camping over at Aspen Springs, but I don’t

believe they’re doing much cooking. Leastways, I keep seeing their motorcycles parked by the diner.”

Kirk nodded. “Thanks,” he said, wincing at the gravelly sound of his voice, and strode toward

the exit.

Behind him, Joan called cheerily, “Don’t you want some syrup for that cough?”
He fled.

***

Francie’s Diner was over on Mount Street, close enough to walk even for a human male, so that

was all right.

Kirk had to remind himself to drive the truck around town occasionally, instead of walking

everywhere. The wolf didn’t get tired, especially on days like these when the pull of the moon was so
strong, but a human would. The truck was part of his camouflage.

As he approached the long sleek silver shape of the diner, it was clear that the bikers were in

residence. Even before he saw the motorcycles parked in front, he could smell the taint of them in the
air, growing stronger and stronger as he came closer.

Inside the door, a cacophony of scents and sounds nearly overwhelmed him: grease, bacon,

coffee, the miasma of leather-metal-fumes that clung to the bikers, and the clash of dishes and loud
voices. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and looked around.

For a Tuesday afternoon, Francie’s was crammed.
The bikers were taking up every spot along the bar and most of the booths. In the corner sat old

Pop Wilson, slumbering over an untouched cup of coffee, and in another booth nearby a family of
tourists bent over their menus, their heads close together and their body language tight and cramped.
They looked like a herd of deer, tense and alert and ready to flee at the first sign of trouble.

Kirk walked over to an unoccupied booth near the door and sat down. He would wait and see

who their leader was, if they had one. He wasn’t going to start a brawl in here…at least, that was
what he told himself, though he knew the wolf was ready to fight.

The tension that hung in the air was growing perceptibly thicker. It wasn’t just his imagination,

or the wolf’s keen senses keying him up to hyper-alertness: every biker in the diner was watching
him, even though he wasn’t presenting a visible threat. He could feel their looks pricking into his
back, his profile.

“Hiya,” said Daisy, slapping down a menu in front of him. She was big and gruff, with tightly

permed salt-and-pepper hair, and she’d been working at the diner for at least twenty years. This
morning she looked even more disgruntled than usual, and no wonder. “You want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he said meekly.
She snorted, loudly and aggressively, as if even his politeness was aggravating her. “Anything

else?”

Before Kirk could answer, another voice said, “Yeah, give us some pancakes with syrup, hash

browns, two eggs over easy, side of bacon and fries.”

“Comin’ right up,” Daisy said, yanked the menu off the table again, and hustled into the kitchen.
Kirk looked up, and saw a heavy-set man slide down into the leatherette seat of his booth,

opposite him. “Hi there,” said a deep, rich voice. “I’m Brand.”

Kirk’s nostrils flared as he took in the stranger’s appearance and the strange overtones of his

scent. Something about this man made his hackles rise.

Brand was tall, nearly as tall as Kirk, and built on a wide, solid scale. Like all the bikers, he

was wearing leather from head to foot, but his leather jacket hung open, showing a black t-shirt with
some kind of band logo on it, and the broad swell of his chest and belly beneath it.

He’s heavy, but that’s not a beer gut, Kirk thought, mentally sizing up the man in front of him.

That’s muscle, with a layer of fat to hide it.

“Kirk,” he said at last, offering a bare hint of civility.
Brand smiled broadly, showing a good set of teeth. “Kirk, nice to meetcha! I wanted to

apologize, so the least I can do is buy you lunch.”

Kirk blinked. “Apologize?”
He tried to keep his own expression neutral. If this was a game they were playing, he wasn’t

sure of the rules, or even why they were playing it.

There was absolutely nothing sincere in Brand’s smile, or in the ostensibly bluff and hearty tones

of Brand’s voice. To anyone watching, they might look like two men entering upon a friendly
acquaintance, but all Kirk could feel was pure challenge, radiating from the other man like heat.

“Some of my boys went on a bender last night,” Brand told him, his voice dropping as if in

confidence. “Tore through town, went up into the mountains, and they passed by your cabin and
decided to…decorate it a little.”

Kirk nodded tightly. “I saw.”
Brand laughed, slapping the table as if he’d just been told the best joke he’d ever heard. “Told

‘em you wouldn’t like it! I see I was right.” He bent forward again, all bluff confidence. “Like I said,
I think an apology’s in order. The boys got a little out of hand.”

Just as he said this, Daisy came back, carrying a tray full of food. The scents wafting from that

tray were an assault on Kirk’s nose, appetizing though they were: the sweet woody scent of the maple
syrup clashed with the strong greasy scent of fries, eggs, and hash browns, and the deep smoky notes
of the bacon were like a gong clanging in his ears.

Daisy plunked down plates in front of them until the whole table was covered in food, then set

down two cups of coffee and turned away. At least it was black coffee, Kirk saw; sometimes, if
Daisy was feeling aggrieved with him, she put milk and sugar in it just to spite him.

Brand swept a hand toward the table. “Have some lunch on me, Kirk. Forgive and forget, what’d

ya say?”

A silence fell, swift and sudden. The only sounds were Daisy talking to Joe by the grill in a

rapid, aggrieved undertone, and the soft music coming from the jukebox by the bar.

Everyone watched them. Even the bikers sitting at the bar, their backs turned to him, were alert

to their conversation; he could tell by the tension in their necks, and the way they stopped moving,
with their forks hanging halfway to their mouths.

With another expansive gesture, Brand shoved the plate of hash browns in his direction.
Kirk looked down at it, then across the table at Brand’s friendly, smiling face.
Something told him there was more riding on this than what it looked like. This wasn’t just an

apology; this was something else entirely.

He let go of the tight rein he was keeping on the wolf inside him, just enough to hear what it was

thinking. What he was thinking; he couldn’t keep cutting himself in two like this. He was both man and
wolf. They were one.

Brand was offering him food. And he was the bikers’ leader, that was unmistakable.
To the wolf’s eyes, the hash browns looked more like a deer, newly killed, bleeding out into the

snow.

Another wolf stood over the deer, snarling. The leader of the pack.
Then the leader stepped aside, offering him access to a bloody haunch. Letting him in.
Offering him a place in the pack.
But he’s human, Kirk protested mentally. Pack rules don’t apply here.
The wolf just snarled at him, disgusted. Kirk felt the wolf’s absolute, iron certainty, and gave in.
Pack rules. Right.
It took everything he had not to bare his teeth at Brand; he didn’t think he could even begin to

attempt a friendly grin. So he just kept his face neutral and said, “Thanks.”

Then, just as Brand’s smile began to grow wider, Kirk gave the plate of hash browns a nudge,

shoving it back to the middle of the table.

“I already ate,” Kirk said.

***

Brand rocked back into his seat as if someone had slapped him. For a fraction of a second, the

mask dropped, and Kirk saw cold rage in his eyes.

Then his massive shoulders relaxed, and he slumped into his seat, completely in control again.

“Well, can’t let this good home cooking go to waste,” he said easily, and shoveled more fries into his
mouth. “Mmm. Sure you won’t join me? Here, have some pancakes before they go cold.”

Kirk shook his head, and took a sip of his coffee.
His mouth was watering. He could easily eat everything on the table and come back for seconds,

and judging from the way Brand was putting away the food, so could he. But now it was suddenly a
question of principle, and though he still didn’t quite understand why, it felt vital that he didn’t take
Brand’s offer.

“Listen,” Brand said, swallowing around a mouthful of pancakes until he could speak clearly

again. His voice dropped again, became soft, confiding. Persuasive. “I guess you’ve been by yourself
for a long time, am I right? But maybe you need to take another look around. There’s more to life than
being alone forever.”

Kirk could find nothing to say to this. The words seemed to strike at some hidden place inside

him, a place he hadn’t known existed. An emptiness, waiting to be filled.

With an effort, he drove away the sudden temptation to agree with Brand. Thinking of Leo

helped a little.

I’m not alone, he told himself, though doubt tore at him. There was no understanding between

him and Leo, for all that he was hoping there would be.

Hoping isn’t having.
For all he knew, as soon as Leo’s leg was completely healed, Leo would pick up his backpack,

give him one of those irresistibly bright smiles, and walk out the door.

Kirk didn’t even know where Leo lived, what he did with himself when he wasn’t hiking. And

Kirk wasn’t going to force confidences by asking personal questions. Such intimate information had to
be given freely, or it was worthless.

“We’ve been riding together for a long time,” Brand continued, with an expansive wave of his

arm at the bikers crowding the diner. “We rely on each other. When the chips are down, we know we
can count on our brothers. And on a day like today…” he paused significantly, eyeing Kirk as if
waiting for some clue, then went on, “We hunt together.”

Kirk swallowed his coffee, wondering at the strange emphasis Brand placed on that last line.

Bikers didn’t usually go in for hunting. It wasn’t like you could take a motorcycle into the woods.

The coffee sat in his stomach like a lump of lead.
“Hunt what?” he asked, careful to keep his own voice low.
Brand smiled again, big and toothy. “Anything we want, Kirk. Anything we want.”
Past Brand’s broad shoulder, Kirk saw three bikers huddling together near the bar, their heads

close as they spoke in tones so low even he couldn’t catch the words. They looked like they were

planning something. One of them caught his eye; he was tall and slender, as angular as a stork, with
long hair so blond it was nearly white. There was something about his body language that made Kirk
uneasy.

“Look,” Brand said, effortlessly drawing Kirk’s attention back to himself. “You’d be better off if

you joined us. We could use you. And you’d be a lot safer, too.”

Safer. Kirk snorted. He could barely remember what being safe felt like.
What was Brand talking about, anyway? Kirk didn’t even own a motorbike. Why would they

want him in their gang? This was just so much grandstanding, though he didn’t understand the reasons
for it.

“You’d be a lot safer if you left town,” Kirk said with emphasis. Time for the gloves to come

off.

Brand stopped eating for a second, watching him. Then he slurped at his coffee, and began to

systematically demolish the stack of bacon. “We’re safe wherever we go, Kirk,” he said between
bites. “That’s the whole idea. Safety in numbers. Safety in brotherhood. Safety in…” he paused again,
raising his fork to stab the air, “…strength.”

Kirk shook his head. “We don’t want you here. You’ve been threatening people.”
That was as clear a warning as he could give, he thought.
Brand looked perplexed. “People? Oh. You mean prey.” He swallowed the last of his coffee

while Kirk stared at him, frozen, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Who cares what prey wants?” Brand said, as casually as if this was a perfectly normal thing to

say.

Kirk found his breath again. He managed to keep his voice low, though the wolf was now

howling inside him, scrabbling to get out. “What do you mean, prey?” he asked, as level as he could.

Now Brand was the one who was staring. His gleaming hazel eyes grew wide, and Kirk thought

that for once he wasn’t faking it. Brand was genuinely surprised, maybe even upset.

“Jesus,” Brand swore. “You don’t even know, do you. Hell. Hey, wait, are you serious, or are

you just fucking with me?”

Kirk shook his head, and Brand let loose a string of curses that made the tourists in the corner

turn pale. They paid hurriedly and fled out the door, but nobody paid them any attention. The other
bikers were still watching Kirk and Brand.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” Brand told him. “You have to know what you are. Have you been

alone all this time, is that it? Didn’t you know there were others? Didn’t you scent us?”

Kirk’s heart began to hammer in his chest, so fast and loud that it felt like it was going to burst

his ribs and break free. “Others?” he breathed.

“Others,” Brand repeated, his voice growing low and confiding again. “Others like you.”
Brand shot a look past Kirk, to where Daisy stood by the bar, filling coffee cups and cursing

when the percolator dripped on the counter. She wasn’t watching them.

Then Brand put down his fork and laid his big, meaty hand flat on the table. His fingers were

stubby and thick, and his nails were short and chewed-up. And they were growing.

Kirk watched, barely able to breathe, as Brand’s nails slowly extended, stretching far beyond

his fingertips.

They were stretching into claws.

***

Leo opened the old stove’s cast-iron door and added another log, watching the flames crackle

and dance.

It was getting quite toasty in the cabin, and after his long hot bath and a couple sandwiches for

lunch, he felt pleasantly relaxed and warm himself.

After the bath, he’d wrapped fresh new bandages around his leg. The holes were closing up

nicely, already scabbing over. With all the bruises and scrapes, his leg still looked like a mess, but it
felt a lot better. All in all, Leo thought he was nearly back at full strength, though sometimes his leg
would still wobble treacherously under him. Probably a good idea to keep the crutches handy.

The only thing that troubled him was Kirk’s absence.
“Don’t come looking for me this time,” Kirk had said. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
After another night as a wolf, he meant. Three nights, Kirk had told him: it happened to him on

the three nights around the full moon. Such a burden.

There wasn’t any reason to worry, Leo told himself. Things were different now.
He knew what was going to happen to Kirk tonight; he knew Kirk wasn’t lost or hurt or alone in

the woods. Kirk could take care of himself, and in his wolf form, he was pretty much unstoppable.

And yet.
Leo felt his absence keenly, like a Kirk-shaped hole in his life. And he still worried, though he

didn’t even know why.

The hours went by slowly. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
The cabin was small, and there wasn’t all that much in the way of entertainment. Kirk didn’t own

a television or even a radio, and the shelf of dusty books in the living room didn’t look particularly
promising, with such titles as Prehistoric Man and The Art of War in the Middle Ages. Were those
Kirk’s own books, or did they belong to some previous owner?

Finally, Leo decided to sort out his hiking gear.
That chore took up a lot of time, and it left his hands busy, though it didn’t stop his milling

thoughts entirely.

There was a lot of stuff to sort out, and some of it he barely remembered packing. He stacked the

remaining dry food in Kirk’s kitchen cabinets, then bundled up a heap of laundry that he would have
to take to town at some point. There had to be a laundromat somewhere; he couldn’t see Kirk beating
his clothes against a rock in the river.

In a heap of odds and ends, he found the box of paints, previously stowed away in a side pocket

of his ridiculously overstuffed backpack. It was a gift from his art school friend Cherie. She’d given it
to him for his hiking trip, telling him “Take it, it’s lightweight!” and he’d forgotten all about it until
now.

It was a tiny plastic white box with little hard cakes of watercolor paint inside, and a thin little

brush that Leo could barely hold steady between his fingers. There was a sketchbook to go with it,
small but sturdy, no bigger than a paperback. It was a kid’s set, really, but he thought he should be
able to do something with it.

Maybe painting a little would help him get rid of the uneasiness that made him restless. But it

was getting dark, and he needed daylight, so that project would have to wait.

Leo sighed and dropped the box of paints on a bookshelf. Everything would have to wait. That

was exactly the problem.

At least he could make himself dinner, even if he wanted Kirk to be there and share it with him.

He wanted to know where Kirk was right now; he wanted to know what Kirk was doing, and

whether he had managed to talk to the bikers without starting a fight. Sun was setting, and if Kirk was
still in town he would have to leave soon, get himself back to the woods before the moon came up.

Stop it, Leo told himself as he started peeling potatoes. Kirk knows that as well as you do.

Better than you do.

And for how long had Kirk known he was a werewolf?
How long had he been living like this?
Leo had no idea, and it didn’t feel right to ask, to force Kirk’s confidence like that. It was clear

enough that the subject was painful, and that Kirk took no pride in his unusual abilities.

It made Leo’s heart hurt for him.
He must have been so alone.
Everything in the cabin spoke of that loneliness.
Did the cabin belong to Kirk’s family, and had he inherited it? Or maybe he was just renting it

fully furnished? Leo had no idea. There was so much he still didn’t know.

But there were no pictures of friends or family hanging on the walls, not that Leo could discover.

All the furniture was well-worn and comfortable, but very old and creaky. Worn in.

And then there was that oil painting of a medieval scene that Leo had seen on his first night in the

cabin. It hung on the wall of the spare bedroom, and it was not the kind of thing a landlord would
leave in a cabin for rent. Unless they had no idea what it was, Leo thought. The painting might just be
an amateur copy, but it would take a lot of careful cleaning to find out. That would be a good project
to occupy his spare time, if he could find the supplies for it in a small town.

Leo cut the potatoes into thin slices, thinking back to that first fever-ridden night he had spent

here.

Dr Ogilvy said she delivered him. So Kirk was born here, Leo realized, with a fond smile for

the brisk, no-nonsense doctor who had tended him so skillfully. And clearly Dr Ogilvy knew Kirk
well, or at least well enough to be concerned about him. Well enough to—

Huh. Leo paused, the sharp knife motionless in his hand. Did she set us up?
He remembered the twinkle in her eye, when she said that the nearest hospital was short of

beds…and the way she’d looked at him and asked him what he thought about Kirk. How she’d said,
“Kirk could use the company. I worry about that boy. He’s alone too much.”

Leo began to laugh.
Wow, yes, she did set us up. I should send her flowers, he thought.
But did Dr Ogilvy know about Kirk’s secret?
That didn’t seem likely.
If she knew, she would have warned Leo. She would hardly have left him alone, wounded and

helpless, in the house of a man who was about to turn wolf.

Leo broke eggs into a bowl and whisked them into a foam.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Kirk living here alone, clinging to his bitter secret. Even

cooking, his favorite mood-lifter, wasn’t enough to displace those thoughts.

With some effort, he lifted one of the heavy, ancient cast-iron pans onto the stove and heated it,

then dropped a pat of butter in and watched it hiss and sputter.

Then he dropped in the thinly sliced potatoes and onions. It was simple comfort food, the most

basic frittata—potatoes, onions, eggs, some spices, topped with cheese—but the smell of it made his
mouth water.

If only Kirk were here to enjoy it, too.

***

Kirk couldn’t stop staring at Brand’s fingers. They were still the same, thick and stubby; they

weren’t even getting any hairier.

But Brand’s claws were fully extended now. Long, gunmetal gray, viciously sharp claws that

made a faint clicking noise on the formica surface of the table.

They looked just like his own. Exactly like his own.
But he couldn’t extend them like this, not even on the day of full moon. Not without transforming

all the way into the wolf.

Others. Others like you.
Part of him still refused to believe it. When his wounds were still fresh, he had searched for

information, he had looked, he had hungered to find someone, anyone, who could tell him what
happened to him. Someone who understood.

Sometimes, he had even dared to dream that he would find others who were like him. But that

was a long time ago.

When Kirk looked up to face Brand, the look of satisfaction in the other man’s eyes told him he

was giving too much away, revealing too much of how he felt.

Kirk couldn’t help it. He was stunned, past his ability to conceal it.
“Now you see,” Brand said, in that soft persuasive voice. “Now you know. You’re not alone,

Kirk.”

The words fell on him like hammer blows.
He shook his head a little, trying to shake the stunned sensation loose. He had to think about this,

deal with it, but he also needed more information.

Not alone.
“You,” he tried to ask, then had to clear his throat. “All of you?” Kirk gestured at the bikers.

Some of them didn’t even pretend that they weren’t listening; they were craning around the edges of
the booths, their eyes bright and eager, watching them both.

Brand nodded. Casually, he pushed his claws into the tabletop, and they retreated back into his

fingernails.

Kirk watched this performance, mesmerized. Could he learn to do that?
“All of us,” Brand confirmed. “That’s who we are. Why we call ourselves The Reds. Short for

‘Red in Tooth and Claw’, you know. And it’s why we’re here.”

Kirk narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”
Brand threw back his head and laughed, gustily. Then he leaned forward again, his elbows upon

the table, encroaching upon Kirk’s space. “I don’t owe you any explanations, Kirk,” he said, “but I
feel for your situation, here. Must’ve been hard, dealing with this all by yourself. So let me tell you
what we’re about, and then I’ll make you an offer. And this time you better think about your answer.”

Brand put a hand on Kirk’s sleeve, oh so casually, but Kirk felt his claws come out again, just

enough to prick his skin beneath the flannel. “Think hard.”

Kirk shook off his hand. If Brand thought he was so easily intimidated, he was in for a surprise.

“Tell me, then,” he said, folding his arms and resting them on the table, biceps bulging in a deliberate
display of his own.

“We need bigger territory,” Brand said, smiling again. “The Reds need a place to live with room

to hunt, and where the locals—the prey—aren’t so numerous and aggressive that they can overwhelm
us, like rats in a warehouse. That’s why we chose this town and these mountains. We want them for
our own.”

“Is that right,” Kirk said flatly. He could feel some of the bikers edging up on him from behind,

and he turned his head and glared at them.

They backed off, though they kept watching Brand for signals.
“We knew you were here, of course,” Brand said, “as soon as we left the highway. Your stink is

all over the place. Mine, mine, mine. Like some cub pissing on whatever he sees.”

The bikers in the booth behind them laughed, loud and raucous, but they quieted when Brand shot

them a quelling look.

“So we figured, a solitary. Feral. Easy kill. But when we saw you—” Brand paused, then smiled

at him in a different way, running the tip of his tongue over his teeth.

Fascinated, Kirk felt the change in Brand’s scent wash over him, carrying a sudden hit of

pheromones.

Brand was coming on to him.
The effect was immediate and instinctive. Kirk bit down on the inside of his cheek to make

himself sit still; he wanted to squirm in his chair, relieve some of the pressure on his rising cock.

It was ridiculous. He didn’t want this man. Didn’t even like him all that much, despite the rich

attraction of his voice. But on some primal level, that didn’t seem to matter.

Was this how Brand kept his pack under control? With the power of his voice and scent?
“Well,” Brand continued, his voice low and hot. “We knew we could do better than kill you. A

strong one like you, that’s the kind of blood we need.”

“To do what?” Kirk asked, keeping his voice flat and level, ignoring Brand’s overtures as best

he could.

“To run with us,” Brand said. He was beginning to sound a little frustrated, as if what he was

telling Kirk was so self-evident that he didn’t know why Kirk couldn’t see it. “What else would you
want to do? You’ve been living here alone, in the middle of prey—”

“Don’t call them that,” Kirk said, sudden and fierce. “They’re people. Just like us.”
“Oh, hardly,” Brand said, a smirk twisting his lips. “We’re stronger than them. Better than them.

We outlive them. We outrun them. Face it, Kirk, we are the superior species. They should be living in
fear of you, instead of cowering behind your protection!”

Kirk shook his head. That was so wrong he didn’t even know how to explain it, just like Brand

seemed to be having trouble explaining his point of view. He couldn’t start thinking of his neighbors
as prey.

“Look,” Brand said then, his voice softening. “I think I see how it is. We wolves aren’t meant to

be alone. Alone, we die. So, because you didn’t have the real thing, you built yourself a pack. A
human pack. Like some homeless kid building himself a house out of cardboard. You tried to fit in
here. But now you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I’m not joining you,” Kirk said, hard and distinct.
He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, Brand or himself. We wolves. Never had he

heard anything that made him want so desperately to belong.

A flicker of anger showed in Brand’s deceptively soft gaze. “You’re being very stubborn, Kirk.

And very, very stupid.”

Kirk shook his head, feeling torn.

He couldn’t let Brand believe that he would just let the bikers take his town from him. He

couldn’t let Brand talk him into this.

Even though he wanted desperately to say yes.
There was no help from the wolf inside him, which was normally the part of himself that was the

most stubborn, the angriest. The wolf was already in agreement, seduced by the promise of
fellowship: other wolves, to run with. To howl with. To be with.

“All you have to do is come with us for the hunt tonight,” Brand said, so softly, that rich voice so

gentle, so persuasive. “See what it’s like to run with a pack. We’ll take care of you, show you what
it’s all about. You can’t judge until you’ve had a taste of the real thing. Until you know what it’s like
to never be alone again.”

***

Rising low and yellow over the hills, the moon seemed larger than usual, like a great baleful

eye.

Kirk knew it was an optical illusion, but he couldn’t stop staring. Everything inside him felt

drawn toward that light, and the rising tide in his blood was irresistible.

He could feel the change coming in, hot and fast.
All round him were the others, the Reds, grouped in a ragged circle. They were standing in a

forest clearing, the end of a small dirt road into Deering Pass that led nowhere and saw no traffic.
The motorcycles were parked and chained together, a cluster of metal that seemed alien in these
surroundings.

They were all still human, but only just. Kirk could feel the gathering energy, the change in their

scents, and he knew Brand hadn’t lied.

They were all wolves. They were like him.
Brand was giving orders. “Strip and put your clothes in the saddlebags,” he said, his voice a

heavy growl, demanding instant obedience. “Don’t leave anything lying around, not even boots or
bandannas. Do it now.” He turned to Kirk. “You too. Give your clothes to me.”

Kirk felt instant resentment at being ordered around—he wasn’t part of this pack, and he wasn’t

going to acknowledge Brand as having any kind of authority over him—but all the same, he could see
the sense in Brand’s orders.

Clothes were always a problem during the change; they either ripped or were lost in the woods.

Kirk had grown into the habit of digging caches all over, so he could find something to wear in the
middle of the woods if he had to, but this was a good solution, too. Nobody was going to steal clothes
from a biker gang’s saddlebags, and they would be protected against damp and mice.

He stripped quickly, trying not to think about all the others around him. It felt exposed, unsafe,

but none of the others were watching him; they were all stripping too, growling and snuffling as they
moved, even though they were all still human.

Finally, Kirk stood naked over a little heap of clothes and boots that Brand quickly stowed into

his own bike’s saddlebags. It felt very strange, very vulnerable, even though all the others were naked
as well. Every type of male body was on display, though most of the Reds leaned toward the lean and
muscular.

Brand stepped into the centre of the circle, drawing everyone’s eyes.

Some of the men’s eyes were changing color, from their human muted browns or blues to a

vibrant green or yellow. Kirk wondered about his own eyes; he’d never seen himself in his other
shape before. Did his own eyes gleam like that, like fluorescent lights in the darkness?

“Reds,” Brand said in that rich, deep voice, which now grew even deeper. “We have a

newcomer to the pack tonight. Treat him as a packmate. Show him how we live.”

A low growl of assent swept all around the circle.
On an indrawn breath, Brand said, “Let’s hunt.”
The words rolled around in Kirk’s mind, echoing and growing in volume, and he realized the

change was already happening. He gave himself up to it more willingly than he ever had before, and
when he threw back his head and howled, his howl was joined by many others.

He sniffed the air, picking up so many scents that he felt dizzy with them. His paws trembled

with the need to run, jump, spring.

Other wolves crowded round him, sniffing at him, then turning around, giving him the

opportunity to learn their scents. They were easy to recognize and remember, even though Kirk didn’t
know most of their human names.

He was bigger than they were; that was a surprise. Brand was the only one who could match his

size, but he was a different shape, heavier, his coat a brindled brown with a lush grey ruff. Kirk had
no very clear idea of his own shape, but he knew he was black and lean, a shadow in the night.

The other wolves’ scents were telling him more than he could have imagined. He didn’t even

know the names of these other werewolves, but with one sniff he learned how old they were, when
and what they’d last eaten, what their mood was right now. There was a peculiar intimacy to their
scent that told him, You are one of us. We are with you.

Brand gave a soft bark low in his throat, and three of the wolves peeled away from the pack and

ran off into the night. Kirk watched them, noticing the flash of white as they sped off. The wolf in the
lead had white-and-grey fur, instead of dark like the others.

Then the rest of the pack surrounded him again, and he forgot about the missing ones. The wolf in

him didn’t care about plans and problems. The wolf only cared about the hunt.

Kirk howled again, feeling the long notes rip from his throat and join in the song of the others.

He had never known such a rich, complex song. Always he had been the only singer.

Now, the wolves were calling into the night, long calls of warning and joyous threat:
We are here
Fear us
We are hunting
Fight us
We are coming
Flee us.
Others were picking up the call. Ahead of them, many birds cried warnings to each other.
Far away, he could hear deer hooves drumming on the earth. A herd of deer. Three of the does

were in heat, and the bucks were rubbing and scraping their antlers against nearby trees, preparing to
fight each other for the does’ favors. The bucks would be an easy target, distracted as they were by
the force of their lust.

The hunt was on.

***

The doe sprang away, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight, her tail another flash of white in the

gloom.

The wolves trailed after her, knowing that where she went, the bucks would follow.
They were not hungry now, not as hungry as they were before. They had already killed an older

buck, a proud, heavy-antlered opponent who gave them good sport before the end. Brand had made
the first leap and brought him down, as a leader should; then the pack followed.

They were strong, they were many. They ruled the forest, and nothing could stand against them.
Kirk was in the middle of the pack, surrounded by heaving dark and gray bodies. He ran, feeling

the soft thud of his paws against the leaves, breathing the fresh cold night air, thinking of nothing but
prey and run and hunt.

Ahead of them, the deer jinked and sprang in a different direction, hoping to shake them off. Her

flanks were heaving; she wouldn’t last much longer. But she was only the bait, not the target. She
would be bred by the surviving bucks and bear young, and the wolves would chase those young deer
in due time when they were grown, if they were male. That was how it had always been, and would
always be.

Together, under Brand’s leadership, the wolves could think faster, and work out complex

strategies that needed no words, nothing but a sniff and a howl.

It was a strange sensation for Kirk, for that small part of him that could still think abstract

thoughts. He was more aware now; he was different, the wolf was different. The pack seemed to
amplify his wolf senses and even his wolf thoughts.

He knew where the deer were, and what Brand wanted them to do: drive the doe toward the

bucks, and then bring down the strongest buck and take the others as they ran.

Kirk was going to bring down the strongest buck. It was understood between them, though he

knew some of the younger wolves resented his interference. They wanted to be pack leader, and if
they couldn’t be that, they wanted to be Brand’s right paw.

But they also knew Kirk was the strongest, unquestionably the strongest of all of them, except

possibly Brand. And now it was time for Kirk to prove himself and make his leap.

One question still hung in the air: was Kirk going to challenge Brand for leadership?
Kirk didn’t have the answer to that question either. He followed his instincts, and the wolf was

only interested in one thing right now: the hot, musky smell of the doe, and the bucks waiting to mount
her.

He could smell the bucks, too, and hear their breathing as easily as the loud defiant burling

sounds they made in the heat of mating season. They were still a mile away, and the wolves were
upwind of them. As canny as deer could be, they were no match for the pack.

Soundless, the wolves ran closer, swift and deadly shadows.
There were no wolf howls now, not even a single growl from the youngest and least experienced

wolf. The howl was for afterwards, for victory.

Now, the only things that mattered were silence, speed, and the joy of the hunt.

***

When Kirk made his leap, he knew the whole pack was watching. Even if some of them were

herding the does, while others ran circles around the aggressive, leaping bucks, he could feel their
eyes on him. Some of them were hoping he would fail, that he would make his leap and miss, or that
the buck would catch him and gore him on his sharp, branching antlers.

But Kirk’s leap was true.
Kirk sank his teeth into the big artery in the buck’s neck, hanging there with his full weight even

as the buck threw back his head and tried to shake him off, with the blood running down free and fast.

The buck was fierce and old and cunning. He had fought wolves before; there were tell-tale

scars on his hide, and the weight of his antlers spoke of the summers and winters he had seen.

Now he knew he was dying, but he still tried to take Kirk with him.
He scraped his antlers against the bark of an oak, then slammed sideways into the tree.
Kirk let go just in time, his teeth ripping the wound open further even as he let go.
Then he sprang again. This time to the rear, to the soft places where the buck was defenseless

except for his strong, sharp hooves.

Again his leap was true, again he held on, and now the buck was coming down, struggling all the

way, aiming his armored head this way and that to try and gore him.

Now the other wolves were coming in, joining Kirk to bring the buck down to the forest floor.
Only a few heartbeats more, and then the proud old buck was dead, its liquid brown eyes slowly

fixing into stillness.

Kirk felt a rush of triumph warm his blood. Killing had never felt this good, and he knew it was

because he was with his brothers now. He had not killed alone this time; he had killed for the pack.

And it was his right to take the first meat. Even Brand, who watched him with fierce green eyes,

did not have that right, not this time.

Kirk sank his teeth into the warm buck’s flesh, tore off a strip and devoured it.
It tasted like victory.

***

After that first battle, the wolf pack brought down two more bucks and feasted long into the

night.

The younger wolves, the ones who weren’t strong enough yet to bring down a deer by

themselves, got the remains of an entire buck to feast on. That was more than they were used to, and
they cheered Kirk long and loud in their howls.

“He provides for us!” they said in the wordless wolf-tongue, in growls and scent-images. “He

feeds us! He is the strongest, let Kirk be leader!”

At first, Brand tried to ignore them, then he began to snap his jaws at them until they backed

down. One of the weakest wolves even rolled over to show his belly, a sign of abject submission to
his leader.

When the underdog got to all fours again, Brand mounted him, weighing the younger wolf down

with his bulk. His cock unsheathed and he rammed it into the other wolf fast and hard, in a dominant
display that Kirk tried to ignore.

It wasn’t easy. The scent of Brand’s mating was coloring the air with glowing images of lust and

sex.

Inevitably, it made Kirk think of his mate. Even though his mate was human, the wolf still knew

him and wanted him. There was no part of Kirk that didn’t want Leo.

Brand shot deep inside the other wolf and dismounted again, trailing strings of come. The other

wolf cowered, his ears flat against his head, his tail in the dust.

That was fast, Kirk noticed with sudden prurient interest as Brand walked away. It wasn’t a full

mating; it was much quicker than that, much more about dominance than lust.

Maybe Brand can control his mating instincts, the hidden, thinking part of him mused. Just like

he can control his claws.

The wolf part of him questioned nothing. The wolf was only interested in food right now, not

challenge, not even sex, not when his mate wasn’t here. He was still tearing strips of meat from the
first buck, the tall proud one he had killed by himself. Mostly because he could.

It was a strange feeling to be able to eat at leisure like this, without having to watch over his

shoulder for other predators. There were no other predators who would take on a wolf pack as big
and strong as this one.

They were the kings of the forest, and they feasted like kings, howling their triumph into the

night.

In the back of his mind, that reasoning, thinking part of him said, Brand was right. This is what

it’s like, to run with the pack. This is what you were missing.

Throwing back his head, Kirk added his voice to the song. His howl carried far, and this time, it

was answered again and again, the other wolves throwing back his call like an echo, amplifying its
reach.

We are here.
We hear you.
We know you.
We are here.
We are one.
Brand lifted up his glowing eyes to the sky, then gave a howling call that had a different sound

from the victory song, cutting through it on a sharp, clear note.

That note brought all the wolves running back to him, their ears up and alert, their eyes glittering.
Even Kirk couldn’t resist that call, and he came up to Brand with the rest in long, easy, loping

strides.

“Moon is setting,” Brand said. “We return.”

***

Leo let the screen door slam shut behind him as he walked onto the porch. He stood there for a

moment, yawning and stretching, with a coffee mug in one hand and the box of paints in the other.

He didn’t have a watch, but he knew it was still very, very early. He couldn’t help it—he

couldn’t go back to sleep, not when it was so close to sunrise and Kirk still wasn’t home.

In his few hours of sleep, he’d dreamed unsettling dreams, of fights and arguments and a great

wolf snarling at his door.

He wasn’t entirely sure it was a dream, but there were no wolf tracks outside, as far as he could

tell.

He sat down on the porch bench, yawned some more, and took a careful sip from his mug of hot

coffee.

Maybe he could keep himself awake by painting the sunrise.
The view of the valley below was gorgeous, but it was frustrating to try and capture it on a page

this small, with a brush this short. Water colors weren’t Leo’s favorite medium. They were delicate,
they required precision, and they didn’t produce the strong, bold color he was addicted to. But he
wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

Soon, he was utterly absorbed, craning down at his small sketchbook, trying to mix exactly the

right color for the birch leaves. They were such a bright yellow where the sun fell on them, and dull
gold in the shadows.

Then a heavy roar made him look up. That wasn’t the sound of Kirk’s truck.
He put the sketchbook down and stood up, shading his eyes with his hand, and watched a plume

of dust coming up the dirt road. Slowly, it resolved itself into a shape. Three shapes.

Motorcycles, again.
Leo watched them coming around the hairpin bends, barely slowing, the bikes tilting at such an

angle that it looked like the riders were grazing the road.

They didn’t look like tourists or bored teenagers. The way they handled those bikes was like

nothing Leo had ever seen outside racing shows on televisions. It was as impressive as it was
disturbing.

He waited, breathing fast, as the bikers roared up the mountain, higher and higher. If they were

just taking the tight bends for the fun of it, they would turn around at some point, head back to the main
road and abandon the small dirt track that led nowhere except here.

But they didn’t turn around.
They were coming up to the cabin.
Standing on the porch like a sentinel, Leo watched as the three riders came to a dirt-shaking stop

in front of the cabin, sending a cloud of dust up into the air and filling it with fumes.

When the roar of the bikes cut off, the sudden silence seemed strange.
The tallest of the three cyclists took off his mirror-vizored helmet, shaking back long blond hair.
Leo blinked. He hadn’t expected any of the daredevil bikers he’d just seen tearing around the

dangerous hairpin bends to look like this.

The biker was tall, lean, and sparely built. His features were classically handsome, with razor-

sharp cheekbones that could have earned him a fortune as a model. But there was no affectation, no
studied grace about the way he moved, and Leo didn’t think that this man, whoever he was, made a
living in front of the cameras.

The other two bikers stayed seated and didn’t remove their helmets. They flanked the blond man,

who was evidently their spokesperson.

“Hi,” Leo said reluctantly. He felt he should at least greet these visitors, at least until he knew

what they wanted, though he didn’t know if Kirk would have done the same. He bit his lip to prevent
a sudden grin. Probably not.

Ice-cold blue eyes met his, and the tall blond biker said, “Kirk isn’t home, I suppose?”
Leo didn’t betray his surprise that the man knew Kirk’s name. This was a small town area; by

now, everyone probably knew his name as well, though he hadn’t even been down there yet.

He folded his arms. That initial impulse to be friendly was fading rapidly. “Who wants to

know?”

The biker smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “So sorry, you’re right, I should introduce

myself. I’m Erick Zimmermann, and these are my friends, Jack and Buzz.” He gestured to the bikers
flanking him, whose helmets made them perfectly anonymous.

No last names, Leo noted. Apparently his ‘friends’ weren’t important enough to merit last

names.

“I’m Leo,” he said. If Erick wanted to know his last name, he could damn well work for it. “And

no, Kirk isn’t home.”

“Pity,” Erick said, but he didn’t look particularly downtrodden. “We wanted to invite him down

to the diner for breakfast.” He paused, his eyes flickering up and down Leo’s body, lingering on the
way his jeans bunched up around the bandages on his left leg. “Perhaps you’d like to join us?” Erick
said, his light voice dropping down into a lower, more intimate register. “I promise you a very
smooth ride.”

The biker on his left let out a short, barking laugh at this, until the other one elbowed him in the

ribs and he fell quiet.

Leo felt a blush rising to heat his cheeks, and cursed his fair skin for the thousandth time. Erick

wasn’t being exactly subtle. “No, thanks,” he said, striving to keep his expression neutral. “Are you
the ones who spray-painted the cabin the other night?”

Erick’s slight smile didn’t waver. “I’m afraid so. I believe Buzz did the honors, didn’t you

Buzz?”

At this, the biker on his left took off his helmet, revealing startlingly bright orange hair in a short

buzzcut—hence the nickname, Leo presumed—and below that, an eager and slightly manic
expression. He was younger than Leo had expected.

“Yep,” Buzz said. “Our club’s sign. We heard Kirk was joining us, so we figured he deserved

the official mark of approval.”

Leo looked from Buzz to Erick, wondering what was going on. Kirk’s reaction to the paint

certainly hadn’t been one of appreciation. “Joining you?”

Erick shot a swift, indecipherable look at Buzz, and Buzz’s mouth fell shut with a snap. He

looked crestfallen.

“Our club could use some fresh blood,” Erick said. “But Kirk is still only a candidate, and Buzz

should have known better than to anticipate events. Shouldn’t you?”

He turned that slight, icy smile on Buzz, and Leo began to feel sorry for Buzz. He was maybe a

couple years older than Leo, and his shoulders slumped as dramatically as if he was a teenager being
told off by a teacher in front of his friends.

“Sorry,” Buzz offered lamely, looking down at the ground.
Leo sighed. “It’s okay.”
Erick watched them both, giving nothing away, that smile still on his lips as if it was painted

there. “Why don’t you let us make it up to you?” he said softly. “Buzz owes you one. Won’t you let
him buy you breakfast, to show him he’s forgiven?”

At this, Buzz looked up, a hopeful expression in his dark brown eyes.
Exactly like a puppy who’s just eaten a slipper, Leo thought with some exasperation. Erick was

putting him in a damnably difficult position, and judging from his smirk, he was well aware of it.

For a moment, Leo was tempted to say yes, just to stop Buzz from turning those melting puppy-

dog eyes on him. Then he remembered Kirk’s words to him earlier.

I need to know you’re safe.
It wasn’t like he was in any danger, of course; that was ridiculous. But he couldn’t go off for a

meal with these bikers, not when Kirk hadn’t come home yet. Not when he had no idea if Kirk was on

friendly terms with these guys or not. And especially not with Erick still looking at him as if he was
lying on the porch bare-ass naked with a sign saying Come and get it.

Leo tilted his chin up. “I’m staying here. And you guys had better clear out before Kirk comes

back.”

These bikers had no idea what they were dealing with. And it was Leo’s job to keep it that way,

so he wouldn’t accidentally betray Kirk’s secret.

Erick swung his leg up, stepping off his motorcycle in one smooth motion. His smile grew wider

as he walked slowly up to the porch. “That’s bold talk, dear Leo, but wouldn’t it be a better idea to
be a little friendlier?”

Leo’s skin prickled with unease.
That smile spelled trouble. So did the sudden tension in Buzz’s stance; he looked as wired as if

he was going to vibrate out of his skin.

Leo was acutely aware that his crutches were stowed out of the way under the porch bench, and

that he had absolutely nothing to serve him as a weapon if this turned ugly. A tiny brush, a box of paint
and a sketchbook weren’t going to cut it.

Erick stopped in front of him—he was tall enough that he could almost look Leo straight in the

eye, even though Leo was standing on the porch above him—and sniffed the air, slowly, deliberately.

It was a peculiar thing to do, and it reminded Leo of something, but he couldn’t think what. All

he knew was that it made his stomach feel like it was doing backflips.

“Such a lovely boy,” Erick said, his voice caressing and fond. “I see Kirk had a taste of you

already. But he didn’t claim you properly. I wonder why not?”

***

Leo stared into Erick’s icy blue gaze, feeling a shiver run down his spine. “What do you mean,

claim me?” he asked cautiously.

Erick smiled thinly. “He didn’t tell you much, did he?” He sniffed the air again, slowly and

deliberately. “And you tried to wash off his scent. How foolish. Didn’t you realize that would leave
you wide open to anyone who wanted to stake a claim?”

This conversation was as bizarre as it was unnerving. Leo looked around wildly, hoping to see

Kirk storming up to the cabin, but there was no one here to help him.

No one except the two other bikers, and he didn’t think they were on his side.
Jack and Buzz stared back at him as he looked around; Jack was expressionless while Buzz

looked uncertain, licking his lips in a nervous gesture. But it was clear that Buzz was focused intently
on Erick, waiting for orders. Leo could expect no help from that direction.

Wash off his scent. That was a particularly strange thing to say. And how could Erick possibly

know what Leo and Kirk had done together? Or even that Leo had taken a bath a few hours ago?

Maybe he hasn’t, Leo thought. Maybe he’s just bluffing, trying to unnerve me. He seems to

enjoy that.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Leo said, setting his chin. “And Kirk’s coming back

soon. Do you want me to tell him about this?”

It didn’t feel great to hide behind Kirk’s back like this, even if Kirk wasn’t actually here. But he

didn’t know what else to do; it wasn’t his house, he had no idea if there was any history between

these men, and Kirk’s name seemed to be all that stood between him and some indecipherable threat.

Erick drew a slender hand through his long blond hair and paused, shooting a swift glance to the

two men behind him. For a moment, it seemed as though he was going to turn around, get on his
motorcycle again and drive away.

But then Erick nodded to Jack and Buzz, and the other men sprang off their bikes.
In what felt like only a tenth of a second, Jack and Buzz ran forward, jumped on the porch and

grabbed hold of Leo, wrenching his arms behind his back.

Leo yelled in fury. “Let go of me!”
He couldn’t believe how fast they moved or how strong they were. He struggled, but his arms

were held as tightly as if they’d been encased in cement.

Erick strode forward, that cool, supercilious smile playing about his lips. “Don’t worry,” he

said softly. “You’ll see Kirk again. In fact, we’ll bring you to where he is...eventually.”

Behind him, Buzz laughed, a thin high laugh that sounded uneven and shrill.
Erick strolled up the porch steps, then bent over Leo, his hot breath washing over Leo’s face.
Leo kept struggling, if only for his own pride. “Let go of me right now, stop it—what are you,

crazy?”

“Oh no,” Erick breathed, and to Leo’s disbelief and disgust, he licked a long stripe from Leo’s

ear to his temple. “Oh no, we won’t let go of you, delicious boy.”

Leo cursed him viciously, but nobody paid any attention. To his right, Jack stared imperturbably

ahead while his hands gripped Leo like a vise, and Buzz was on his other side, half hidden behind
Leo’s shoulder. His fast breaths ruffled Leo’s hair, and his hold on Leo’s left arm was hard and tight.

Erick licked his lips. “You taste unbelievable...almost better than you smell. How did Kirk ever

find you? No, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. That bastard is far too lucky. But we’ll bring
him down a notch, won’t we, boys?”

Buzz made a strange answering sound that was more like a growl. It was a sound that Leo knew

all too well by now; the sound of someone trying to speak against all odds, because he was losing his
voice to the wolf.

Understanding crashed over him in a cold wave. The strange way Kirk had reacted, the speed at

which these men moved, Erick sniffing the air, his baffling allusions and inferences…it could only
mean one thing.

Kirk wasn’t the only one.
These men were werewolves, too.

***

Leo yelled, but his voice was lost in the wind.
Even if anybody hears me, he thought gloomily, they’re not going to know me. The motorcycle

helmet made him completely unrecognizable.

Of course, even without the helmet, that would still have been the case. Nobody knew him in

Sevenacres, or if they did, it was only by rumor as Kirk’s new houseguest. Nobody had laid eyes on
him except Dr Ogilvy.

As they zipped through the town, Leo shut his eyes when the bikers roared past a red light and

then another. Jesus. They were going to get themselves killed.

And they’re going to get me killed, too, and I didn’t even want to come.
Buzz and Jack had tied his hands together with a leather belt, yanking it tight until Leo began to

worry that the circulation to his hands was going to get cut off. But he could still move his fingers, so
that was something.

Now, Leo was sitting on the back of Erick’s motorbike, his arms around Erick. To any passers-

by, it probably looked as if he was holding on to the other man of his own free will.

Buzz had positioned him like this, snickering maniacally as he lifted Leo’s bound hands, then

dropped them over Erick’s head and around Erick’s slender waist in a parody of an embrace.

“Hold on tight,” Buzz told him in his nasal sing-song voice, “it’s going to be a rough ride.”
Leo was sick and tired of being treated like luggage. His arms ached, and he couldn’t roll back

his shoulders to ease the tension. The narrow, padded back seat of the motorcycle wasn’t exactly
uncomfortable, but sitting pressed close to Erick’s back like this was unnervingly intimate. He could
feel every muscle tighten or ease as Erick whipped the bike around sharp corners, shifting his weight
expertly.

Leo felt like an inanimate object of some kind; a lump of clay or a bag of flour.
He couldn’t see much past Erick’s shoulders, and he didn’t know the town and couldn’t tell

when another bend in the road was coming, so there was no way for him to compensate for the twists
and turns. In any case, he wasn’t much inclined to help Erick steer. So he just hung on, a dead weight,
and prayed that they wouldn’t crash.

He was worried sick about Kirk. Where was he? What if he’d ended up in a fight with the

bikers, last night? God, that was a nightmare. If they were all werewolves, too, there was no way
Kirk could have survived a fight with all of them. Not if they were as strong as he was.

Yes, he could, a stubborn voice said deep inside Leo. Apparently he still believed, in his heart

of hearts, that Kirk was invincible.

That’s because you’re a dreamer. That sharp, acerbic tone belonged to his father. Nobody’s

invincible.

Leo shook his head, trying to get rid of the turmoil inside. Maybe he should be more worried for

himself, but he couldn’t shake the fear for Kirk. He had to see him, find out for himself just what had
happened.

They were nearing the outskirts of town, and as soon as they left the last houses behind, Erick

opened the throttle.

The bikes sprang forward, roaring toward the sunrise.

***

The change came swiftly this time, surprising Kirk. It hurt less; it seemed to go faster, rolling

over him like a smooth wave. It was as though being in the company of so many other wolves made it
easier.

So many other men, he corrected himself, looking around. They were back in the clearing where

the motorcycles were parked, grouped in a circle. Brand had led them back here for the change.

It was very strange, seeing others like himself: hairy, muscular, naked men who had been wolves

not an hour ago.

Some of them weren’t changed all the way back yet. That one over there still had claws and

green glowing eyes. And Brand himself was standing on his hind legs—no, his legs, Kirk corrected
himself—in an uncomfortable way that made it clear he was still thinking of himself as walking on
all fours.

Kirk shook his hair back, trying to get rid of the feeling of loss. For the first time that he could

remember, he didn’t want to change back. He wanted to stay as he was, running with the pack, his
mind sharp and clear without any thought for past or future.

But now that perfect present was gone, and he was a man again, full of doubts and second

thoughts. It felt strange and unsettling; he missed the freedom of the wolf already. He missed the close
company of his fellow wolves. The men around him felt like strangers again.

One of the younger werewolves began to open a saddlebag, rummaging for his clothes.
Brand said, “Jason. Stop that.”
Jason looked up, surprised. “But—”
“No clothes, not yet,” Brand said firmly.
Kirk watched them both, baffled by this decision. The moon was below the horizon, and the sun

was coming up. Whether the others felt the same regret he did or not, he couldn’t tell, but they had to
get back to their human lives. They couldn’t just stand around naked and try to howl with human
throats. Nobody was going to come looking, not in this remote clearing, but why delay the inevitable?

In the distance he heard a low roar, quickly coming closer. The sound of motorcycles was

familiar by now. Even after running with the pack, it made him want to put his ears back and snarl, but
he couldn’t do that anymore.

The bikers roared up the dirt road that led to the clearing, coming closer and closer, and now

Kirk could see them approaching. They were the three men who had left before the hunt was over:
Erick and the other two, his followers.

But there was another.
Even over the motorcycle fumes, his scent stood out. A scent that Kirk could distinguish in a

heartbeat, and that still overwhelmed him with its power.

All around the circle, werewolves were sniffing the air, their eyes growing wide and hungry.
Kirk couldn’t stop the low, assertive growl that started deep in his throat.
Leo. They brought Leo.
They brought him here, to a whole pack of newly changed wolves.
This could only end in disaster.

***

The helmet’s mirrored visor filtered everything, giving it a blue tint that made the landscape

seem cold and cheerless. When the motorcycles rolled to a stop in the middle of a forest and rough
hands lifted the motorcycle helmet off his head, Leo’s world changed.

He stared, mouth open, at the scene before him.
Around him, under the trees, bathed in the bright golden light of sunrise, stood a group of men.

The bikers.

They were all naked, and the effect should have been ludicrous, but it wasn’t.
They were tall, muscular, powerful, with an air of feral wildness about them that made Leo’s

mouth go dry.

In an instant, his gaze flew from one unfamiliar face to the next—dark, powerful faces, all

staring back at him with a strange eagerness—until he found Kirk’s.

Kirk was whole and alive, as naked as the day he was born, his powerful muscles tight with

tension, and his eyes glowing with banked fire.

Leo sagged with relief against Erick’s leatherclad back, feeling his heartbeat slow down again.

Thank god. He’s all right. They’re not fighting.

It was a strange situation—why weren’t they fighting, was Kirk tied to these other werewolves

now?—but Leo didn’t care, he was too happy to see Kirk alive and well.

Buzz tugged at his arms, lifting them up and away, releasing his arms from their tight fit around

Erick’s narrow back. Then he half-lifted, half-pulled Leo off the back of the motorcycle, sending him
stumbling into the middle of the circle.

Leo glared. His arms were still bound, but now that he had some freedom of movement again, he

rolled his shoulders, easing the tension there. They felt stiff and awkward.

So did he, standing here like this, surrounded by men who were taller than he was, more

muscular, and infinitely more naked. He could practically smell the testosterone in the air.

Slowly, deliberately, he walked over to Kirk, then stretched out his bound hands for Kirk’s

inspection. Just to make the point that he wasn’t here out of his own free will.

Kirk stared at him, his eyes fierce and glowing with that alien light, and then he reached out and

took hold of Leo’s wrists. One yank of his strong hands, and the leather belt ripped apart like paper.

“Thanks,” Leo said, shaking out his aching wrists with relief.
“Why did you bring him here?” Kirk said, breaking the tense silence. His voice was very low

and rough, and it was clear that he was only barely mastering the need to growl. “He’s mine.”

Leo could feel himself flushing. He rather hoped these men—these wolves—couldn’t smell just

how much that statement turned him on, even in this tense and awkward situation.

Another man stepped forward, instantly drawing all eyes to him. He was broad-shouldered,

large and muscular, with a pelt of grizzled brown hair on his chest, and Leo tried hard not to let his
eyes drop down to the swinging, heavy cock and sack below.

“There is a price to pay,” said this man, “for those who join the pack. You brought down the

strongest buck; that pays your wolf share. But you haven’t paid your price as a man yet.”

Kirk shook his head, long dark curls flying about his ears. “I haven’t said I’ll join you, Brand.”
The other man—Brand—threw back his head and laughed. His voice was rich and warm, and

his laughter sounded good-natured. “You can’t refuse, Kirk, and you know it. I like how stubborn you
are, but we both know that you had two options tonight: challenge or join. You haven’t challenged,
and you hunger for our company. You need us. You will join us. And Leo is the only thing standing in
your way.”

Kirk’s shoulders drew tight. “He’s not a thing. And he’s mine.”
“Actually, he’s not,” said Brand, still in that strangely friendly tone of voice. “You haven’t

claimed him, and you have no right to him, you know that.”

“Actually, I am standing right here,” Leo said, lifting his chin. “What the hell are you talking

about?”

Brand turned to him, and Leo had to lock his knees to stand firm under the power of those molten

eyes. There was no doubt that this was the leader of the wolf pack.

“We wolves claim our mates,” Brand said. “We mate with them and mark them with our scent

and teeth, so that all may know them for ours. But you are only human, and Kirk hasn’t claimed you. I
don’t imagine that the thought even entered his mind.”

Leo felt his stomach sinking. Brand spoke with absolute conviction, and Kirk wasn’t responding,

wasn’t denying the truth of what he said. In fact, Kirk looked as stunned as if someone had hit him
over the head.

Is that it, then? Leo thought, despairingly. Is that all there is to it? I’m human, so I’m not

enough for you?

Brand turned away from Leo to face Kirk. “Again, you have two choices. You can give him to us

—for entertainment—and that will pay your price to join the pack. Or you may turn him yourself, and
so secure his safety.”

“Make him a werewolf, you mean,” Kirk said. He looked at Leo, his expression so closed that it

was utterly unreadable.

Leo stared back, frozen with fear. He couldn’t believe this was happening.
There was just no time to assimilate any of this. When Kirk told him his secret, Leo assumed that

he was born with his particular gift. Now he knew that Kirk wasn’t the only one, and that was a
shock, but this was something else again. These men could turn him into a werewolf, just like that? It
wasn’t something you were born with?

No, he mouthed soundlessly, without even thinking about his answer.
Kirk nodded at him, his mouth a tight line.
Leo felt his stomach sink when he saw the bleak look in Kirk’s eyes.
Was Kirk disappointed in him? Had he hoped that Leo would say yes? Oh, no.
Still, Leo didn’t want to be a werewolf. Not even if it meant that he could share this part of

Kirk’s life.

That wasn’t something he was proud of, but it was the bedrock truth. He would keep Kirk’s

secret, but he couldn’t join him. Not if he had any choice at all.

Kirk turned back to Brand, and his lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl. “Never,” he ground

out. “He doesn’t want this. No more than I did.”

Leo sagged a little in relief, though he knew this wasn’t over. Neither of the two choices they’d

been given were good ones.

“Then you must give him to us,” Brand said. He stepped closer to Leo, sniffing the air in a way

that Leo was beginning to find familiar and incredibly annoying. “He is only human, Kirk. He is not
our kind. Don’t divide your loyalties like that. Let us have him, then forget him, and you will be one
of us.”

A shiver of fear ran along Leo’s spine, and he tried not to let it show. Forget me?
All around him, the werewolves were coming closer, step by step, circling him. Their eyes

gleamed with an unsettling, hungry light.

Let us have him. What did that even mean, if they weren’t planning to turn him into a werewolf?

Were they planning to eat him?

Or maybe…Brand had said…entertainment.
And it could only be what, an hour at best, since they changed from their wolf selves back into

human form?

Leo remembered what Kirk had been like the first time, right after the change, and another shiver

ran down his spine. There was only one thought on Kirk’s mind then, and it wasn’t food.

Apparently, the change made werewolves insatiable for sex.
And now they were closing in.

***

Kirk felt his lips draw back in an unmistakable snarl.
“Back off,” he said, softly. “You touch him—you die.”
He knew the others could read his absolute sincerity. Not just from his words, but from his

whole stance, his scent, even from the way he held his hands curled loosely by his side, relaxed but
ready for action.

He also knew he was only one man, and there was no possible way he could win this fight.
That wasn’t going to stop him.
If they wanted to get to Leo, they’d have to go through him first.
Then Leo took a step forward, shifting his shoulders back to make himself look taller.
All attention focused on him instantly, and Kirk breathed hard, watching him. Leo’s courage

made him even more irresistible, and now he knew that his scent had an overwhelming effect on other
werewolves as well.

I’ll fight for you, Kirk swore to himself. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.
“What does it mean,” Leo asked, as boldly as if it was a matter of mere academic interest, “to

claim someone? I mean,” he ran a hand through his golden hair as if smoothing away his own
uncertainty, “what do you have to do?”

A low chuckle ran around the circle.
Kirk’s molars ground together, and he glared.
He didn’t know the answer to Leo’s question. It was becoming glaringly obvious that he didn’t

know any of the things these other wolves did, or the rules they lived by. In this strange new world
where other werewolves existed, Kirk was as ignorant as a newborn. But he hated the mocking
smiles the other men wore. They were displaying the predator’s vicious, cruel sense of humor, and it
grated on Kirk’s nerves.

Brand tilted his head to the side, considering Leo with faint surprise. “Erick,” he said, waving

his hand in an expansive gesture, “why don’t you explain?”

Erick stepped forward, and Kirk recognized him: he was the tall blond Kirk had spotted in the

diner, the one whose body language didn’t seem quite right. Like the other two who had left the hunt
early, Erick was fully dressed, covered from head to toe in biking leathers, but his smile was as
predatory as the others’.

Kirk eyed him warily, assessing the cold look in Erick’s pale eyes.
This man had taken Leo from the cabin and brought him here against his will. Under Brand’s

orders, perhaps, but that didn’t change anything. Not when he rode up here with Leo’s hands bound
around his waist. Some day I’ll make you pay for that, Kirk thought.

“Claiming someone,” Erick drawled slowly, apparently enjoying the attention. “That means

taking them. You don’t know what that’s like, do you, Leo? You may think you do, I suppose, after
your little roll in the hay with Kirk, but you’d be wrong. It’s not about a quick fuck or a fast orgasm. It
can last for hours. Claiming someone means mounting them, mating with them, covering them with
your scent in full sight of the pack. Until the whole pack knows they’re yours.”

Leo swallowed. His blue eyes were wide, but his voice was unwaveringly calm as he said,

“And what do I—what does someone do, if they want to be claimed like that?”

There was a tense, hungry silence.
Slowly, Erick’s smile turned cruel, and he leaned forward, towering over Leo.

“Submit,” he hissed. “You submit, pretty boy. You get on all fours, like the prey you are. Ass in

the air, face in the dust. You’ll get a taste when we fuck you, human. But nobody’s going to claim
you, so stop kidding yourself. We’re just going to take what we want from you and leave you to crawl
back to what you call civilization. If we’re feeling generous, we might leave our seed in you, but
that’s all you’ll get from us. And you’ll never be satisfied by mere human sex again.”

Kirk felt his hands clench into fists, a bolt of anger racing through him. He wanted to wipe that

smug, cruel look off Erick’s face.

Before he could move, Leo spoke up again. “Well. That’s quite the sales talk.” His lips quirked

into an irrepressible smile. “But I’m wondering, how do you know what mere human sex is even like?
Have you ever had any?”

Erick looked startled, then increasingly pissed off. Two bright spots of color appeared on his

pale cheeks.

Kirk almost smiled too, watching them both. Leo’s courage was a bright and rare thing, a new-

minted coin found in the dirt. All the posturing in the world wasn’t going to change that.

Stepping forward, Erick raised his hand as if he intended to hit Leo.
Kirk didn’t bother to suppress the growl that tore from his throat. “Step back,” he told Erick in a

harsh whisper, “or you lose the hand.”

Even with weak, dull human teeth, Kirk believed he could make that happen. He projected that

certainty outward, and as soon as Erick’s gaze met his, Erick backed down, taking a careful step back
into the circle of waiting werewolves.

While Erick moved away, Leo shrugged out of the battered hiking jacket he was wearing. He

dropped it onto the forest floor with a soft thud, sending pine needles scattering.

Kirk watched him with barely hidden worry, trying to understand what he was doing.
Leo didn’t look or smell afraid. The set of his shoulders, relaxed and confident, wasn’t just for

show; there would be no point to that, not in a crowd of wolves who read emotion primarily by scent.

His confidence was real. He was planning something.
With a grunt of effort, Leo bent over and began to unlace his boots. His left leg quivered, still

weaker than the right, and Kirk found himself digging his fingernails into the palm of his hands as he
watched Leo undress.

The urge to go to him and help him maintain his balance, to put his own body between Leo and

the wolves, to protect him from their gaze, was overwhelming. But somehow, on a level he didn’t
understand but could feel in his gut, Kirk knew it was important to let Leo do this all by himself. Leo
was making a point.

Leo kicked away the boots and began to strip off the rest of his clothes, dropping each item on

the ground. The other werewolves watched, too, in a heavy, expectant silence, the tension rising with
every piece of clothing Leo discarded.

Finally Leo was naked, and several of the werewolves growled.
Kirk felt the many overlapping scents around him changing, growing more overtly sexual. It

wasn’t just him. The werewolves standing around him were all hungry for sex, and they were all
stirred up by Leo’s presence and his incredible appeal.

What was Leo doing, provoking them all like this?
Some of the werewolves licked their lips, and others sniffed the air to catch Leo’s scent. Their

eyes were bright, even in human form, glowing with a faint unearthly light. Nobody made a move, not
yet, but it wouldn’t be long.

Kirk prepared himself to take out as many of his rivals as he could. He breathed hard, increasing

the oxygen in his blood, tensing all his muscles then relaxing again, and finally dropped into a
fighter’s stance.

But then Leo turned, meeting Kirk’s eyes with that perfect, calm courage.
“I’m not doing this for them,” he told Kirk. “I don’t want to be a werewolf, and I don’t want to

be their toy. But I want you.” He swallowed, looking at Kirk with desperate conviction. “I’m making
a third choice.”

He paused, letting that statement hang in the air for a moment, and then he dropped gracefully to

his knees.

His wide blue eyes looked up at Kirk, and now, for the first time, Kirk saw a hint of uncertainty

in them, a vulnerable expression that was hidden from the others.

“I will submit to you,” Leo said softly. “If you want to claim me.”

***

Leo heard his own heartbeat roaring in his ears.
He was aware of nothing but immediate physical sensations—the pine needles digging into his

bare knees like tiny dull pins, the cool breeze making the hair on his arms stand up, and the heavy
drumming of his blood against his temples.

In front of him, Kirk stood, alone even in the middle of a crowd of his peers. He towered over

Leo, and with his long dark hair unbound and his arms crossed, he looked like some dark forest god
waiting for a sacrifice.

Leo took a deep breath, deliberately slowing it to calm himself, and waited for Kirk to decide.
Kirk watched him with a feral intensity, his face set like stone.
Leo couldn’t look away from him; he was mesmerized by the unearthly glow in Kirk’s dark eyes.

It set something fluttering in his hindbrain, something that knew that this man was a predator.

Well, if I’m the prey, Leo thought, then come and catch me.
He was going to see this through, even if that primal fear was shrieking at him to run.
He wanted Kirk to claim him, now that he finally knew what it meant.
It means mounting them, mating with them, covering them with your scent in full sight of the

pack, Erick had said, and nobody had disputed that statement. If Leo’s intuition was right, that meant
that after this, the wolf pack would accept him. Not as a fellow wolf, nor as a toy to be discarded
after use, but as Kirk’s mate. Even if he was only a human.

It would gain him status. It might gain Kirk acceptance.
If that was the way out of this impasse, Leo would take it. If being fucked in public was the price

for both their lives, or even just for Kirk’s, well, he was willing to pay it twice over.

Leo just hoped that Kirk would realize that this meant more to him than a mere desperate

bargain, a concession to get them both out of this standoff alive.

Claim me.
If the prospect of public sex appealed to him, on the most basic level…if he wanted Kirk to

proclaim ownership over him…well, nobody else had to know about that, did they? Nobody but Kirk.

Awkwardly, on his knees, he shuffled around to turn his back on Kirk, though it was difficult to

tear himself away from those glowing, feral eyes.

He had to do it. If Erick was right, he had to present himself to Kirk like a bitch in heat.

Face down, ass in the air.
Flushing with unwanted embarrassment at that thought, Leo slowly bent forward until he could

rest his head upon his folded arms.

Then he arched his back, lifting his ass up into the air.
It felt very strange and exposed. At the same time he could feel the flush of heat spreading on his

face, and it wasn’t just embarrassment, not anymore. It was arousal.

Looking up through his eyelashes, he saw the entire circle of men watching him. Staring at him.
Brand stood directly opposite him, and his easy, smiling, genial face was transformed by a

serious, utterly feral expression. He looked hungry. He looked as if he was ready to take Leo apart in
two bites.

Next to him stood Erick and two other werewolves Leo didn’t know; younger men, with lean,

hard-muscled bodies. Their faces were as set and feral as Brand’s, and their eyes glowed with a faint
green shimmer.

Erick was different. He looked as cold as before, like a statue made of ice, and there was no

expression on his face that Leo could read. But even as he watched, the bulge in Erick’s thick leather
pants grew perceptibly. I’m turning you on, you bastard, Leo thought. Admit it.

Then a big, warm hand landed between his shoulderblades, and Leo gasped.
He knew it was Kirk; he didn’t need to look around. That touch was as intimately familiar to him

as his own heartbeat.

Kirk was moving forward, stepping up against him until Leo could feel the heat of his arousal

pressing into his backside.

Leo shivered with the urge to rub himself against that heat.
Kirk’s hands slid over his back, rubbing the cold out of his skin, warming him up with confident,

firm touches.

Leo sighed, relaxing a little under those strong, sure hands. Kirk was so close, so warm, and his

presence felt like protection, like safety.

When he looked up again, he saw that the werewolves crowded a little closer, surrounding them.
Then Kirk’s big hand closed around his cock, and he gasped.
Helpless, urgent, he arched into that touch.
Now the weight of all those other eyes on him began to make itself felt. He was naked, aroused,

defenseless, and all these strange men were watching Kirk’s firm grip on him.

They were watching get him hard, they could hear him panting with need, gasping and jerking

with every movement of Kirk’s fist around his cock, while his ass pressed close against Kirk’s own
fierce arousal.

There was no place to hide except by closing his eyes, by ignoring them.
But that wasn’t the point of this. There was a reason why he wasn’t facing Kirk, why he was

facing the others instead.

His submissive pose invited them in, to watch, to be a part of this.
In full sight of the pack.
Brand was stroking himself now, his big, thick cock filling even as Leo sneaked glances at him.

His grip on himself was so tight that Leo could see his knuckles whiten.

Kirk stroked him faster, harder, as if he was stoking the fire inside Leo’s belly, every touch of

his hand another coal to burn.

Daringly, Leo pushed back against him, grinding against the thick bulk of his cock.
A low, hungry growl rewarded him, and Kirk’s grip upon him tightened.

“You’re mine,” Kirk said in a voice so low Leo wasn’t sure anyone else could hear it. “Say it.”
Leo groaned as Kirk’s other hand closed upon his hip in a fierce, controlling grip, pulling Leo

even tighter against him.

“Yours,” Leo gasped, feeling light-headed.
He couldn’t look at the other men any longer; he stared at the ground unseeingly, aware of

nothing but Kirk’s grip on him. “I’m yours,” he repeated, urgently, pushing his ass higher. Presenting
himself like he was supposed to, showing that he was ready to be taken.

Kirk’s strokes became punishingly fast, and Leo breathed in little gasping moans as the fire

licked up his spine.

He closed his eyes, moaning harder when Kirk paused for the space of a breath, urging him on.
Then Kirk’s hand stripped him from root to tip in one long, demanding stroke, wringing pleasure

from him, and Leo felt his world white out.

All he could do was shake and shudder himself to pieces.
Kirk’s touch on his hip was his only safety, holding him in place as he came all over Kirk’s fist.
“Good,” Kirk breathed, and even the sound of his voice made Leo shudder. He felt abjectly,

absurdly grateful for that one word.

Around him, the other werewolves had closed in again, stepping in to narrow the circle. All

around him were hungry eyes and hard, naked bodies. Many of them were stroking themselves, their
eyes glittering with lust.

But Kirk’s hands had him, the muscled bulk of Kirk’s massive thighs was flush against his, and

Leo felt no fear.

This wasn’t about the werewolf pack, no matter what they thought was happening. This was

about Kirk and him, and about proof, the kind of proof even the wolf in him would understand.

Leo shivered with delicious aftershocks, feeling pleasure burn through his body.
Kirk was so hard against him, and his hand on Leo’s hip was like iron. But Leo could feel a

shudder running through him, and he wondered what Kirk saw, what Kirk was feeling.

Did Kirk realize just how much Leo wanted this? Or did he think Leo was a victim of the

wolves’ lust, throwing himself into this only for survival’s sake?

Leo pressed himself against Kirk again, watching the other men watch him.
Claim me.

***

Kirk planted his bare feet deep in the soft carpet of pine needles, willing himself to remain still

as Leo pushed against him.

His cock sank right into the cleft of Leo’s ass, and it felt as though it would be easy, so easy to

slip inside.

But it wouldn’t be that easy. It couldn’t be.
Kirk knew just what a tight fit it was, and this time he didn’t even have cooking oil to smooth the

way. He would have to make do.

With a sigh, he freed his cock and wrapped it in his own hand, still coated with Leo’s spendings.
That was almost too much. The slick, wet touch of his own hand felt so good upon his heated

flesh, and all it would take was a hard, fast, punishing rhythm…

No.
He controlled himself with an effort, slowing down the touches of his own hand. He smoothed

the slick wetness over himself, and then he began to push his thumb into Leo’s cleft, opening the way.

Leo’s breath caught, and Kirk wished desperately that he could see Leo’s face, instead of the

smoothly beautiful curve of his spine.

Tell me you can take me. Tell me this will be all right.
But the wolf pack were watching, and there was no intimate conversation that they wouldn’t be

witness to, that they wouldn’t see as weakness.

Kirk wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
He felt the tight ring of muscle slowly give way against the pressure of his thumb, Leo’s flesh

stretching around him slowly, so slowly.

Then he slid his thumb out again and began anew with two fingers, probing deeper, pushing the

slick wetness into Leo’s body.

The slickness helped, but he felt every tiny shudder Leo gave against him, every half-hidden

moan.

The other werewolves leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of his fingers disappearing into

the cleft.

Still so tight, and Leo was trembling, his thighs taut and straining, his face pressed into his

folded arms.

It would be easier, Kirk thought, when he could hold Leo’s hips in both hands and take his

weight.

In front of him, Brand was stroking himself. It looked like he had already come once, maybe

when Leo did; his hand, too, was slick and wet.

Brand’s eyes met Kirk’s, and he smiled.
“He smells even better now that he’s turned on,” Brand said conversationally, pulling at his own

cock with strong fingers. “Absolutely delicious. I’m surprised you haven’t had other wolves sniffing
around before, when you’ve been hiding a treasure like this.”

Kirk shook his head. He wasn’t going to tell Brand just how recently he had met Leo. Who knew,

maybe the rules these wolves lived by had something to say about that, too.

Leo gave a little moan, and Kirk focused his attention on him, ignoring Brand. Slowly, Leo was

loosening a little around his fingers, relaxing that tight muscle. He felt hot and pliant and willing, and
Kirk knew it was time. He couldn’t hold back much longer.

Kirk stroked his hip with his free hand, a wordless reassurance.
Then he withdrew his wet fingers, set the head of his cock at Leo’s entrance, and began to push.
Leo shuddered, tremors running up and down his body, and he gave another throaty moan.
“Easy, easy,” Kirk whispered. He kept a tight grip on himself, pressing slowly but inexorably

forward, waiting for Leo to open up to him.

Around them, the tight circle of werewolves closed off the rest of the world. Their bodies were

so close that Kirk could smell the musky arousal rising from each of them, and their body heat
warmed him.

Kirk was rock-hard, and he began to press harder, feeling Leo open up around him, his tight

muscle clenching deliciously around the head of his cock. It was slow, so slow, but every tiny push
deeper inside felt like a victory.

“Oh,” Leo moaned when Kirk shifted his grip and curved both his hands around Leo’s hips,

pulling him closer.

Leo’s hands twitched, and his head rolled to the side so Kirk could finally catch a glimpse of his

face. He looked wild, his hair tousled and mussed, and he was blushing with that fierce heat that
signified not shame, but lust.

Kirk could smell it on him; Leo wanted this, and the audience watching them both wasn’t enough

to hold him back. It might even be adding to his arousal, Kirk wasn’t sure.

“Beautiful,” Kirk told him softly, ignoring the smirk on Erick’s face.
For all that he seemed so aloof, Erick’s hands were on his crotch, rubbing himself through the

thick leather of his motorcycle pants as he watched Leo being taken.

Erick could smirk all he wanted, but he wasn’t the one who got to touch Leo. He wasn’t the one

who could feel the delicious heat of him, clamped around Kirk’s cock like a vise.

Kirk worked himself into Leo, rolling his hips, moving slowly but inexorably deeper.
Leo was panting nonstop now, his cheeks bright red, his upper body shivering in Kirk’s hands,

but Kirk could feel that he wasn’t cold, he was just overwhelmed by sensation.

Around them, the werewolves reacted to the heat building between them.
Brand jerked himself frantically, already spilling over his own hand, and Erick’s eyes were

closed, his face tilted to the side as if he was too turned on to even watch.

Some of the other wolves were touching each other as well as themselves, hands joining around

cocks, straining into each other’s fingers as they watched Leo being fucked open.

Kirk gripped Leo’s hips, his fingers digging into soft bare skin, and tried to go slow, even though

the urge to thrust hard and fast was becoming overwhelming.

He was still not even halfway inside, and Leo’s moans were high and urgent, delicious sounds

that seemed to be torn from him with every breath.

Leo was so warm, so tight, and the steamy scent that rose from his body was like a drug, coating

Kirk’s senses with his lust. He was irresistible. He was wild and hot and splayed open for Kirk’s
pleasure, and Kirk was going to take it.

***

Leo bit upon the inside of his lower lip, chewing at the soft flesh in a last-ditch effort to stop

himself from wailing out loud. It was bad enough that he couldn’t stop making other sounds, the little
breathy moans and gasps that forced themselves from his mouth every time Kirk rolled his hips and
pushed into him.

If this claiming was so important, then Kirk should have to work for it, Leo decided.
No need for Leo to yell out his pleasure at the first thrust, even though in truth he was having

difficulty holding back.

And he probably shouldn’t enjoy the sensation of all those watching, hungry eyes quite so much,

either. Or the way Erick was rubbing himself, with his face half turned away and shielded behind the
fall of his long blond hair. He looked as if he couldn’t bear to reveal this much of himself, but was
unable to stop.

Watch me, Leo commanded him silently, with vicious enjoyment. Watch me, you son of a bitch,

you started this. You kidnapped me. Do you like what you see, now that you know you’ll never get
it?

Then he moaned again, a little louder, when Kirk pulled him up higher and the head of his cock

thrust implacably deeper.

Leo felt him inside, a hot hard weight.
God, he was so big, and as much as Leo wanted him, his body wasn’t capable of taking him on

easily. His body protested, fought back, and even tried to push Kirk back out, and all Leo could do
was let it happen and try to relax as much as he could.

The tight hard grip of Kirk’s hands upon his hips was reassuring.
Kirk had him.
Kirk wasn’t going to drop him, and he wasn’t going to stop, and he wasn’t going to let Leo go.
They were pressed so tightly together, Kirk’s massive thighs almost holding him up, and the

fullness inside him was becoming unbearable, but Leo bit his lip and kept the wails between his teeth.

Slowly, so slowly, Kirk kept fucking him open, until Leo felt so full that he couldn’t breathe, and

still he knew that Kirk wasn’t all the way inside him.

His fingers scrabbled uselessly against the soft ground, pine needles prickling against his

fingertips.

He was desperate for something to hold onto, something to cling to, something that would give

him some support. Even someone’s hands to cling to. That might work, but though the other
werewolves crowded so close around him, nobody was in reach.

Leo didn’t know how Kirk would react if he saw Leo touching someone else. He didn’t think it

would go well. There had to be a reason why all the werewolves were standing just out of reach,
despite their obvious interest.

He clutched his own forearms, trying to relax and not clamp down on Kirk’s bulk.
The pressure built, and something had to give; he had to submit, and god he was trying.
Oh, the delicious ache of fullness inside him—it was too much, far too much, but it felt so good.

And he still could feel Kirk sinking deeper, inch by hard-won inch.

Leo blinked away sweat and tried to push back, groaning with effort.
Now Kirk was making some noise too—low, hungry growls that seemed to vibrate through both

their bodies. His breaths came fast and hard, and his hands trembled upon Leo’s hips.

So close, Leo thought. He gave a low, hoarse moan when Kirk rolled his hips again and pulled

Leo up against him.

The angle of his hips was different now, and Kirk ground his cock deeper into Leo, riding him.
The burn was intense and overwhelming. Leo closed his eyes and thumped the ground with his

fist, in an instinctive attempt to release some of the pressure building inside him.

Kirk reacted to that, his hand curving around Leo’s hip and over his thigh in a slow, firm caress.
Easy, his touch said wordlessly. We’re nearly there.
Leo basked in it, relaxing into the grip of those strong hands. His body was adjusting, very

slowly, too slowly for Leo’s comfort, but he could already feel the difference.

“What’s it like?” someone suddenly said, a hoarse voice Leo didn’t know.
He looked up, stretching his neck painfully, and saw Jack standing next to Brand, watching him

with hungry, avid eyes. He barely remembered the werewolf’s name; he was one of Erick’s
henchmen, the older one who didn’t speak. Except now he was suddenly talking.

Leo shook his head minutely. He couldn’t start a conversation while being fucked open, it was

too strange, and he didn’t want to take any of his attention away from Kirk and what Kirk was doing
to him.

“Tell us what it’s like,” Jack insisted. Clearly he could see that Leo was in no mood for talk,

because he added, “This is part of it, you know. We’re your witnesses.”

Leo blinked at him, then rolled his eyes up to look at Brand for confirmation.
Brand nodded at him, in that strangely avuncular way he had. “You don’t have to talk the whole

time,” Brand told him soothingly. “In any case, I don’t believe you’ll have the breath for it.” A
chuckle ran around the circle of werewolves. “But when someone asks you a question, try to answer.”

“It’s—” Leo began, trying to find his voice. “It’s good, so good, he’s—oh god—he’s so big

inside me, I—”

He ran out of air again, and then all he could do was moan helplessly when Kirk finally slid all

the way home, filling him up with the last inch of him.

Jack looked pleased, and he was asking something else, but Leo didn’t hear him over the roar of

his own heartbeat. He couldn’t answer anything else, not now.

Leo gasped for air, wriggling on the heft of Kirk’s cock as though moving around would help

him get relief from the immense pressure. But there was no relief to be had.

He couldn’t stop himself from clamping down around the bulk of Kirk’s cock. Every time he did

so, pain and pleasure rippled through him, and it shouldn’t feel this good—even the burn felt far too
good—and all he could do was press his hips tighter against Kirk’s and sob out his gasping breaths.

“Fuck,” Leo whispered, dropping his head on his arms again.
Heat and desire bloomed along with the slick hard pressure of Kirk inside him, and Kirk still

wasn’t moving, still was giving him time to adjust, good god, the man’s control must be superhuman
—and that thought made Leo huff out a soundless laugh, because yes.

His laughter changed the tension between them, easing it. He could feel it, even though he

couldn’t see Kirk’s face.

Kirk’s left hand curved around his thigh again, so warm and firm, and then Kirk’s right hand

moved away from his hip and slid around his stomach and pulled up.

“Oh god,” Leo gasped as he felt himself being lifted. Jesus, he knew Kirk was strong, he had

intimate experience of those arms holding him up, but this was something else again.

Kirk was taking all his weight, as effortlessly as if Leo weighed nothing, and oh god Kirk was so

deep inside him and every movement of their bodies changed the angle of the pressure and Leo wasn’t
sure he could do whatever Kirk wanted him to do—all he wanted to do was keep Kirk inside him,
and maybe find a chance to take a long steadying breath, and why was Kirk moving?

Kirk took a heavy step backwards, and another, carrying Leo with him, until Kirk’s back thudded

against the solid unmoving bulk of a massive pine tree. Then he stopped, breathing hard.

Leo gasped with surprise as Kirk lifted him higher. Then, with infinite relief, he felt Kirk’s huge

arms support him, holding him so tight and secure.

He was upright now, facing the werewolves, though he wasn’t sure how it had happened. His

legs were doubled up and spread wide, with Kirk still taking all of his weight. His feet didn’t touch
the ground, and Leo felt as if he was floating.

Kirk’s broad chest was pressed against his back, and Kirk’s hot, possessive hands were

clamped around his thighs, and despite all the upheaval Kirk was still inside him, their connection
unbroken. Now Leo felt stretched and taut like a wire, spitted on Kirk’s cock like a sacrifice.

Leo let his head drop back against Kirk’s shoulder, wanting that connection, and Kirk nuzzled

his hair. Even that tiny movement shifted the pressure of his cock inside Leo, and Leo made a little
noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a whimper. Oh god, I don’t know what’s happening
to me.

Then he heard a low growl to his left and opened his eyes wide, seeing the werewolves

crowding round them both. He hadn’t realized just how exposed this new position left him. He was on

display, his legs pulled wide, his half-hard cock curving up against his stomach, and the werewolves
were all staring.

They were crowded just as close as before, or even closer, and Leo no longer had the luxury of

dropping his head into his hands and hiding from their hungry eyes.

He couldn’t hide anything, and he had never felt this naked.
A flush spread over his face and down his neck, and his cock jerked when Kirk swelled even

further inside him, growing impossibly huge.

He was grateful to feel Kirk’s broad chest pressing into his back, and Kirk’s hot breath stirring

his hair.

Then Kirk slid a broad thumb along the curving line of Leo’s cock, and Leo bit back a whimper.

That was entirely unfair.

It made him shiver in Kirk’s grasp, and then he tried to roll his hips just a tiny little bit, just to

see what that felt like with Kirk’s cock spearing him, and oh god—

“Well, there’s no question that he wants it,” Brand said with a broad grin. He was standing so

close that he was almost within reach of Leo, but not quite. “Look at him.”

There’s no need for that, Leo thought crossly, because they were all looking at him anyway,

feral and intent, and he wondered what they were seeing.

All he knew was that he was on display, from his tousled, messy hair to his sweat-slick chest to

his dangling, curling toes. The werewolves were inspecting every bare inch of him, only pausing
every now and then to sniff at the air with what looked like intense approval.

“Fuck, doesn’t he look happy,” someone said. “Go on, spread your legs wider, yeah, like that—

let us see how deep he’s in you—”

The other werewolves growled words of agreement, encouragement, and other things that Leo

couldn’t catch, but he felt their eyes on him.

It felt incredibly exposed. And yet he only wanted more of it. He wanted to let them watch as

Kirk was fucking him, except Kirk was standing still as a rock, and even his hips weren’t moving.

Why was Kirk standing so still?
He whimpered a little, low in his throat.
Kirk’s breath in his ear sent a thrill of delicious pleasure down his spine as Kirk said softly,

darkly, “Tell me.”

Leo didn’t think he had the breath to tell Kirk anything. He tried to move, to make his intention

clear with a lewd roll of his hips, but Kirk’s strong hands held him down like bars of iron, and he
could only twitch and moan against that strength.

“Tell me,” Kirk said again, low and implacable, and oh fuck even his voice was pure sex and

more than Leo could stand just now.

Leo sucked air into his lungs. “Do it,” he said on a gasping breath, his words sounding high and

thin to his own ears, “Oh god, please—fuck me, I want you, I—please—”

He wasn’t even sure what he was saying, what part of it made any sense or emerged in whole

words instead of moans, but Kirk’s arms tightened and his breath came faster, and then Kirk began to
move.

He lifted Leo up with one broad hand clamped around his thigh, and the other around his torso.
Leo groaned as he felt Kirk pull away from him, that thick shaft sliding out. That felt so good and

yet so wrong, he didn’t want Kirk to pull away. Instinctively he clenched his muscles to keep him, but
now Kirk was lifting him up even higher—

“Oh god—”

—and then forcing him back down.
Leo cried out, struggling to find something to hold onto as he was forced back onto the bulk of

Kirk’s cock. He scrabbled at Kirk’s arms, finally clamping his fingers around Kirk’s wrist, gripping
tight enough to make his fingertips turn white.

Kirk didn’t stop. He thrust Leo down upon his cock, all the way down, spreading his thighs open

wider and forcing him down with merciless pressure. And as he did so, the werewolves howled their
approval.

Oh god, this was unbelievable.
Leo gulped desperately for breath, writhing in Kirk’s arms, and shook sweat drops from his hair

with a toss of his head. He couldn’t move, he was held fast, and he could only surrender himself to
the demanding pressure of Kirk’s hands.

Kirk’s hands pushed him down upon that hard, hot shaft until he was stretched wide around the

bulk of him, clutching at Kirk’s wrist with shaking fingers.

Leo moaned, desperate for more. Take me, do it.
He could barely move, he couldn’t control any of this; all he could do was beg to be taken.
In response, Kirk lifted him again, pulling out until Leo was squirming on the head of Kirk’s

cock.

Kirk held him so tightly, and no matter how hard Leo writhed against him, he couldn’t change the

rhythm Kirk had set. Kirk could do whatever he wanted, as hard as he wanted it, as long as he wanted
it…and Leo could only cling to him and take it.

Shaking his head to keep the sweat from running into his eyes, Leo looked around the circle of

werewolves and stopped at Erick’s face.

The blond werewolf was standing so close, and that cool, remote look in his eyes looked

strained now, even agonized. Of all the other werewolves, he was the only one who didn’t look as if
he was enjoying the spectacle, even though he was rock-hard and his hand was down his leather pants
in a desperate attempt to ease himself.

Leo wondered what he looked like to these wolves. He was facing them with his legs spread

wide and sweat running down his chest, his mouth swollen with bites, and his body stretched taut
under Kirk’s demanding hands. It was utterly shameless, and it would have been demeaning if it
didn’t feel so right.

Own me.
All the werewolves were touching themselves now, or sometimes each other, and low growls

and grunts of pleasure ran around the circle.

Brand jerked his fist around his stiff cock, then paused, his breathing slow and controlled. His

eyes watched Leo with feral intensity, savoring his moans as Kirk slowly thrust into him.

Young, orange-haired Buzz had found the time to strip away his leathers. He was running his

hands over his own chest, pinching his nipples until they stood stiff and red, while another werewolf
fisted his cock. His eyes were closed, but the barrel-chested werewolf touching him was looking
straight at Leo, with a stare so level and fierce that Leo almost looked away.

Almost, but not quite. He didn’t have the option of hiding. And he knew deep inside that he

didn’t want to.

The werewolves are meant to witness this, he told himself firmly. It was a permission he

needed desperately, or he wouldn’t have the courage to face them.

But now he stared back, then let his gaze travel around the circle. Most of the other werewolves

met his eyes eagerly, hungrily; only Erick was still looking away, his mouth set in a grim, straight

line. Two dark-skinned werewolves leaned against each other, hands joined, touching each other turn
by turn.

“Fucking hell,” the barrel-chested werewolf swore, and now he was touching himself, too, his

eyes fixed on Leo. “You’re so—you smell unbelievable—” He was almost stuttering, but he never
stopped looking, and Leo smiled just a little.

Then he moaned loudly when Kirk’s hands forced him down again, forced him onto his cock

harder and faster than Leo would have dared.

He was losing control of himself, losing the ability to keep anything back. Soon he would be

wailing and begging, shameless and lost, and these werewolves would see it all, hear it all. But they
won’t have me, Leo thought with a fierce triumph. Kirk is the only one who gets to have me.

Leo arched his back, waiting for the agonizing withdrawal to begin again, for Kirk to lift him up

high as if showing him off to all the world.

But Kirk’s arms were clamped tight around him, pushing him down still, and then Kirk began to

grind into him, rolling his hips with fierce and vicious pressure until his engorged cock raked over
that place inside Leo that set sparks flying behind his eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Leo groaned as this new assault began. The fullness, the friction, Kirk’s immense

strength grinding into him—it was more than he could take, and with a desperate wail he reached
down to touch himself…

…until Kirk caught his wrist, wrenching his hand behind his back with a savage strength.
Leo moaned, frustration wracking him. Even though it was futile, he still tried to struggle free.

He wanted to come, he wanted to slide his cock into his own fist, just like all the werewolves around
him were doing—

“No,” Kirk growled in his ear. “You don’t touch yourself. If you want to come—”
“Yes, god yes please,” Leo whispered, too far gone to be ashamed of begging like this.
“—then you’ll come from my cock in you,” Kirk finished, his hot breath in Leo’s ear. “Nothing

else. Nobody else.”

Leo groaned, too overcome with lust to find words. Kirk’s possessiveness set him on fire.
Then Kirk bent his head and licked a long stripe along his upper back.
Leo shivered as the cold air hit his wet skin, and then Kirk licked him again in the same places,

warm and wet, as if to soothe away the cold.

Covering me with his scent, Leo thought wildly. He arched up against Kirk, trying to force his

cock even deeper, trying to find that spot again.

Oh yeah, that was it.
He threw his head back, seeing stars, and Kirk growled and bit him in the shoulder and thrust up.
That was it, that was all Leo could take and then some.
He convulsed and fell over the edge, all his senses whiting out in the rush of pure pleasure.
It felt like he would never stop coming.
His heartbeat roared in his ears like a thunderstorm, and for a moment, he thought he would pass

out. But then, slowly, the spots in front of his eyes dissolved, and he fell back against Kirk with a long
sigh.

Leo felt as wrung out as if he’d just run a marathon.
Little shocks of pleasure were still running through his body, making him shake like a leaf. But

Kirk’s hands were holding him steady, and Kirk was sucking at the bite mark he’d made, his hot wet
mouth sending another shiver through Leo.

And oh god, Kirk was still hard inside him, and now his hands were like iron as he began to lift

Leo up again, dragging his cock out slowly, so slowly that Leo tried to clamp down and keep him
there.

Then Kirk slowly pushed him down and thrust up into him at the same time, riding him through

the aftershocks, using the shudders still wracking Leo’s body for his own pleasure.

It felt hot and raw and fantastic to be fucked like this, to be used like this.
Leo never wanted it to stop.
He wanted to sit on Kirk’s cock with his legs spread open and his head thrown back, like a

debauched king on a throne, and rule the damn world.

The noise the other werewolves made was growing louder.
Leo heard it over a haze of pleasure, dimly, like the roar of a waterfall in the distance: growling

moans, long guttural cries, even whimpers from some of the younger men who had already come once
and still couldn’t match Kirk’s stamina.

Because Kirk was still going, and Leo didn’t have to clench his abused muscles to feel that

rock-hard, brutally thick cock pounding into him. He felt every inch of him, and it was almost more
than he could take.

It felt like Kirk was thrusting all the way up into his throat, not with wild abandon but with slow

and merciless and absolutely filthy control, and now Leo was beginning to get some idea of what
claiming meant.

His shoulder ached where Kirk had bitten him, and his ass was beyond sore, and he could feel

the strain in his legs from having them doubled up and wrenched wide apart like this, but none of that
mattered.

He wasn’t going to beg Kirk to stop, not as long as Kirk could keep going.
“You smell so ripe,” someone hissed in his ear. “So goddamn ripe, like he’s been fucking you

for days, and still you want more, I can taste it—”

It wasn’t Kirk, it wasn’t that raw dark voice that Leo heard even in his dreams now, so it wasn’t

important. Still, dimly he remembered: ‘they are meant to witness this’, so he turned his head and
saw Jack standing next to him and sniffing at him.

Standing too close to Leo, in fact.
Close enough to be within reach, and Leo opened his mouth to warn him when—
Kirk clamped one arm tight around Leo’s waist to hold him in position, tight enough to make him

yelp, and with the other he lashed out at Jack and hit him in the mouth.

“Shit,” Jack said, muffled, with one hand over his mouth and blood dripping between the

outspread fingers.

But he took a step back, so fast that he nearly crashed into Buzz, who had crept up behind him.

Buzz reached out and held his shoulders, steadying him, and Jack snarled but didn’t shake him off.

“Mine,” Kirk growled. His free hand returned to wrap around Leo’s thigh like an iron band.
Then he sank his teeth into Leo’s neck.
It hurt, but the pressure of Kirk’s teeth stopped just this side of serious pain, and Leo knew it

wasn’t something Kirk could control, not now.

Instinctively, Leo arched up, letting his head tip to one side to offer Kirk his throat. He had done

this once before, and he didn’t even know where that impulse had come from, but it just felt right.

Kirk sucked in a breath that hissed through his teeth, and then he bent his head to lick Leo’s

throat.

Not bite it, as Leo feared—as Kirk might perhaps have done, if his dominance had been truly

challenged— no, just a long hot swipe of his tongue that made Leo shiver and cling tightly to his

strong arms.

“I’m yours,” Leo said softly, knowing Kirk would hear him no matter how small the whisper.

“Nobody gets to touch me but you.”

Kirk nuzzled the side of his face, and that touch was so intimate that Leo felt a blush return to his

cheeks. For a moment, nothing else existed but the two of them, and all the noise of the other
werewolves around them faded to a dull roar.

“Come on,” Leo whispered. “If this is all about claiming, then do it. Let me feel you come inside

me.”

For just a heartbeat, Kirk stopped breathing, and then he began to move again, faster now,

thrusting into Leo like a man possessed. His chest was slick with sweat, and his long hair hung over
his face like a curtain, tickling Leo’s neck.

Leo hung on, feeling his aching body protest and ignoring it as best he could. Kirk had him. Kirk

would take care of him.

Kirk’s hips rocked back and then pistoned forward, and it felt like he was making sure that Leo

could feel the whole length of his cock driving into him.

As if Leo could feel anything else.
“Oh god, do it,” Leo whispered, urging him on. “Come inside me, I want to feel you—”
Kirk’s pace increased, and Leo lost the ability to form words.
Wails and moans tore from his throat, and it felt right. It felt like surrender.
It ached, oh god yes it hurt now, his body wasn’t designed to take such a pummeling for so long,

but there was a pleasure in the pain that overrode everything else, and Kirk was driving that pleasure
higher with every punishing thrust.

Leo was moaning loudly now, too worn out to do anything but cling to Kirk and let him use his

body however he pleased.

“Fuck yes,” someone growled, and Leo heard someone else groan with satisfaction. He couldn’t

pay attention to them. He couldn’t spare it. Nothing else mattered but Kirk.

Kirk was right on the edge, Leo could feel it. He could feel the savage rhythm of Kirk’s thrusts

increase, slamming home again and again until his hips stuttered against Leo’s.

Clutching at his arm, Leo clamped down on Kirk’s cock as much as he could with his sore,

aching, stretched muscles.

Come on, he urged wordlessly, moaning. Do it. Let go. Spill inside me.
Kirk’s broad hands gripped him like iron bars and that was it, he was coming, he was spending

himself deep inside Leo with a long, low growl.

Leo sighed with satisfaction as Kirk finished. He could feel it, the hot rush of Kirk’s seed inside

him, and it satisfied him on some deeply primal level.

It went on for what felt like a long time, and Leo relished the shudders of Kirk’s strong body

against him, and the way Kirk groaned in his ear, low and rough, as he spent himself until they both
collapsed against each other, held up by the tree at Kirk’s back.

Leo felt wrecked, but it was worth it. Oh god, yes, so worth it.
With another long sigh, Leo tried to keep Kirk from slipping out of him, his thighs shaking with

the effort of being stretched so wide for so long. But Kirk made a firm noise in the back of his throat,
lifted Leo up, and slid out. The sting of pain made Leo gasp.

Some of Kirk’s seed dripped down and out of him, and he clamped down again, futilely, wanting

to keep all of it inside. Wanting to keep Kirk’s mark inside him forever.

He twisted his head up and around, trying to see Kirk’s face.

Kirk’s eyes were closed, but the strong line of his jaw was relaxed, and his gorgeous dark hair

was a sweaty tangled mess of curls.

Leo sank a hand into his hair, then stroked gently along Kirk’s rough, stubbled cheek. He

couldn’t believe that Kirk still had the strength to hold him like this, even now, but he didn’t want this
moment to end.

Never let me go.

***

The bright morning sunlight gilded Leo’s hair. It curled around his head in wild spikes, like a

crown for a forest god.

Kirk knew he couldn’t stand here forever like this, with Leo a warm weight in his arms, resting

against him, his breathing soft and slow. But he couldn’t make himself move.

He leaned back against the trunk of the pine tree. Earlier, in the heat of motion, the rough bark

had abraded his skin, but he didn’t care. After the change, he always healed incredibly fast. And it felt
good to have something solid at his back.

Around him, the other werewolves were slowly recovering. All of them seemed to have

climaxed at least once, and their faces were slack with satisfaction. Some of them were already
milling around, bending to wipe their hands on the grass, sniffing at each other. Soon, that attention
would turn back to the two of them.

Leo’s head rested warm and heavy against Kirk’s shoulder, and he seemed to be close to falling

asleep.

Kirk bent his own head closer. “Leo,” he murmured.
Sighing, Leo nuzzled him, eyes firmly closed. “Nnh.”
“Sweetheart,” Kirk said. The endearment slipped out, surprising even himself. “Wake up.”
Leo sighed again and stretched, then made a face. “Ow.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Kirk said, biting his lip to hide a smile that was pure possessive satisfaction.
Leo looked wrecked, and no wonder. Wrecked and beautiful and mine.
“How’s your leg?” Kirk asked. A pang of worry smote him: he knew he hadn’t been careful, he

hadn’t been paying attention to anything but claiming Leo. And there were fresh bandages on Leo’s
leg.

He sniffed, checking for the taint of blood in the air, but found nothing.
“It’s fine,” Leo said, sounding almost impatient. “Let me down.”
Carefully, gently, Kirk lowered Leo down until he could stand on his own feet, smudged with

dirt as they were.

Leo leaned back against him, and Kirk folded his arms around Leo protectively.
Together, they faced the crowd of werewolves.
With effortless ease, Brand drew all eyes toward himself as he stepped forward.

“Congratulations,” he said in his rich, deep voice, sounding as smooth as if he was addressing a
board meeting instead of a gathering of naked werewolves. “I’ve never seen a human last through a
claiming like that. It was impressive.”

“Thanks,” Kirk said, his voice dry as dust.
He waited, his arms tight around Leo. He would let Brand make the first move in this strange

game. Because it definitely wasn’t over yet.

“We acknowledge Leo as your mate,” Brand said, catching the eyes of the other members of his

pack. “We won’t challenge you for him.”

An answering growl ran through the circle. Most of the other werewolves met Brand’s eyes,

though one or two looked away. Kirk wasn’t sure what that meant.

“The question now remains,” Brand continued, “whether you will join us or not. You’ve earned

your place at my right hand.” He smiled. “Or my right paw.”

Erick suddenly stepped forward, disrupting the circle. “He has not,” Erick said, his cool voice

dripping with disdain. “All he’s done is fuck a human in front of us, and you’re treating it like that’s
some kind of achievement.”

Brand turned to him, his dark brows lowering. “Kirk showed us trust by claiming his mate in our

presence. And last night, he also brought down the strongest buck by himself,” Brand said. His voice
was still smooth, but Kirk could read irritation in the sudden acrid overtones to his scent, and in the
way his broad shoulders drew back slightly.

“Because you stepped aside to let him do it, and because I wasn’t there,” Erick rejoined, tossing

back his long hair in an almost petulant gesture. “There was no competition.”

“That’s right,” Brand agreed. “You weren’t there. You volunteered to go pick up Leo, if you

remember.” There were layers of meaning in his voice, and Erick flinched just a little.

Kirk felt his lips draw back from his teeth in a snarl. So it was no accident that Leo had been

brought here with his arms bound around Erick’s waist.

“Is that right,” he said, watching Erick with all the feral intensity of the hunter. “I’ll remember

that, too.”

For a moment, there was a tension-laden silence. Erick looked from Brand to Kirk and back

again as if testing his will to challenge them.

Then, slowly, his tight, pinched expression settled back down into cool indifference, and he

lowered his eyes. “Very well.”

Brand looked round the pack, then back at Kirk. Waiting for his answer.
“I will join you,” Kirk said.
An audible wave of feeling ran round the group of werewolves—relief, anger, excitement—but

Kirk’s attention was for Leo, who suddenly stiffened in his arms and turned his head, meeting Kirk’s
eyes with a glare.

Even though he said nothing, it was clear that Leo didn’t agree. Leo didn’t want him to do this.
But Kirk wasn’t finished. “I will join you as a wolf,” Kirk said. “But not as a man.”
Brand blinked. “What does that mean?” he asked, and Kirk could see that this had thrown him.
“I will join you on the moon-days,” Kirk said, “when we can run together as a pack. You were

right, Brand; I never had that before, and now that I know what it’s like...” His voice trailed off, and
he decided he wouldn’t try to describe the feeling of utter rightness, the deep need to belong. There
was no need to give Brand, or any of the others, that much ammunition. “On those days, you’re
welcome to drive over here. We’ll run together.”

Kirk paused, locked his arms around Leo, and watched the werewolves’ eyes, trying to see if

anyone else would have the nerve to challenge him. Then he said, “But on the other days, the rest of
the month, you stay out. You don’t disturb the town, and you don’t enter my territory. That’s the deal.”

Everyone reacted at once, and there was a sudden uproar.
Jack bellowed something, several werewolves bared their teeth, Brand rocked back a step and

managed to look wounded, as if Kirk had hurt his feelings, and Erick spat, “That’s ridiculous and you

know it.”

Kirk ignored him utterly, focusing his gaze on Brand.
If Erick held any power within the pack, that power was clearly eroding; nobody backed him up

or moved to stand at his side. After a while, the other werewolves settled down and waited for
Brand’s answer.

In his arms, Leo stood stiff and silent, his chin set in a mulish line. Kirk couldn’t tell if he

disapproved of Kirk’s plan altogether, or if he just wanted this confrontation to be over. He must be
exhausted, Kirk thought with a jolt of tenderness that he couldn’t afford to show.

“We need new territory,” Brand said at last, sounding as confident and reasonable as ever. “That

hasn’t changed, Kirk. We came here for a reason.”

Kirk nodded. “There’s Silver Springs. Next town over. On the other side of the nature reserve.

Nice area. And I don’t consider it part of my territory.” It was so strange, to speak openly about
something he’d always known by instinct alone.

Silver Springs wasn’t his. Not his territory, not his problem.
It made perfect sense to the wolf, and yet some other part of him was howling, now. He stifled it.
Brand stroked his chin. “And no wolves live there?”
Kirk had to bite down on a laugh. “I’ve never picked up the scent of another werewolf anywhere

around here,” he said honestly. “I didn’t know there were any.”

That was quite an admission to make, but he knew Brand had already guessed as much. He

certainly didn’t look surprised.

“We’ll see if Silver Springs meets our needs,” Brand said, with a certain menace threaded

through his affable voice. “If not…you’ll be the first to know.”

Their eyes met, and Kirk nodded slightly.
Brand had just agreed with the proposed deal, without making it sound like he was backing

down. That was quite a talent. If Kirk ever wanted to lead a pack, there were things he could learn
from Brand.

In his arms, Leo stirred, huffing an impatient breath. “Now that you’re all done growling at each

other,” he said, “can we talk about breakfast?”

***

Leo tilted a spoon and let the maple syrup run off it, drizzling it over his pancakes. He had to

admit: the diner’s buckwheat pancakes were excellent. And they used real maple syrup, not the fake
scented stuff.

It was maybe the strangest situation he’d ever been in, but the pancakes helped.
Around him, a pack of werewolves—or a gang of leatherclad, bushy-haired, sleepy-eyed, hung-

over bikers, depending on who was looking—was eating breakfast. And Leo was sharing his
breakfast with his own personal werewolf, who was trying to steal the last strip of bacon from Leo’s
plate.

Leo hit him on the fingers with his spoon. “Back off,” he growled in a mock-wolf style, though

his voice wasn’t really suited to it. “That’s mine.”

Kirk looked up from his hungry contemplation of Leo’s breakfast to smile at him.
It was only a tiny smile, half-hidden in blue-black bristle, but it made Leo’s heartbeat stutter.

He smiled back, as big as he dared, forgetting to pay attention to Kirk’s thieving fingers.
Of course, that was when he lost the bacon.
“Mmm,” Kirk said. He chewed the strip of bacon with relish, then began to lick maple syrup off

his fingers.

Leo gasped, looking at him with wide eyes. Slow, sensual licks…oh god, was Kirk doing that on

purpose?

Yes, of course he was.
There was a spark of mischief in Kirk’s deep-set eyes that Leo had never seen there before.
Between bites, Leo stole more looks at him, trying to determine the difference between the Kirk

he knew and this one.

Because Kirk did look different, this morning. Despite his sleepless night, he seemed much more

alert and aware than the other werewolves. His dark eyes were shining and warm, and he looked
relaxed, content, and…well…joyful.

“You look incredibly smug,” Leo accused him in a fond undertone.
Kirk’s lips twitched. “And you look incredibly well-fucked.” His voice was very low, rough,

and full of satisfaction.

Leo felt heat rising to his cheeks, but it wasn’t like he could deny it. Hell, it was an effort just to

sit down, and he wasn’t looking forward to getting up again.

“I feel like it,” he admitted, softly enough that maybe the entire pack wouldn’t pick up on it.
The warmth in Kirk’s eyes increased, and Leo spent a long moment just looking at him,

forgetting everything around him.

With some amusement, Leo remembered his first, slightly fever-impaired impressions of Kirk.
The Sasquatch Who Saved Me.
Well, no. That didn’t fit, not anymore.
But how about The Werewolf Who Claimed Me?
Maybe that was why the bond between them felt so different this morning. The claiming…maybe

it did mean as much to Kirk as to the other werewolves, even if he’d never heard of it before. Maybe
it meant even more than just a ritual way of saying Back off.

If so, Leo had no regrets. He wanted this. He wanted to stay with Kirk. He didn’t know how it

was going to work, how he was going to live, but he wanted it more than anything.

For a moment, he could see his father’s face, with its heavy, disapproving frown. Who do you

think you’re fooling? his father said. You don’t belong here. You have a career to think of, a life to
live.

Yeah, and I’m going to live it here, Leo told him. Then he concentrated on building a mental

brick wall until his father’s frowning face disappeared. He ate another pancake to celebrate that small
victory.

Sighing with satisfaction, Leo pushed his chair a little further away from the table and looked

around.

Nearby, at another formica table that was far too small for his bulk, Brand sat with Jack and

Buzz, who seemed to have risen in the werewolf hierarchy. They were eating the Hungry Man’s
Breakfast, which was apparently the diner’s specialty: sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, beans, toast,
pancakes, and a double order of hash browns.

Leo found it fascinating to see how fast they could make the enormous stack of food disappear.

They’re wolfing it down, in fact. He hid his smile in his napkin.

The steel-haired waitress came by with another stack of pancakes, and Leo shook his head at her

when she set them down on their table. “I couldn’t eat another bite,” he said.

“They’re for me,” Kirk told him, nodding at the waitress, who gave him a huffy look and turned

away with a swing of her hips.

“Is this normal?” Leo asked, watching with fascination as Kirk began to demolish his second

stack of pancakes. “Do all of you eat like this?”

All of you newly-changed werewolves. He had to remember to censor his speech while they

were in a public place.

Kirk swallowed, then said drily, “Apparently.” But Leo thought he could detect a hint of

satisfaction.

Oh, of course. This was all new to Kirk, too. He’d said as much. This was the first time he’d

ever been around other werewolves.

Leo shook his head. “Well, I’m glad the diner’s here, then. I’m not cooking for all of them.”
He met Kirk’s eyes, and added silently, But I’ll cook for you, always. Or at least…as long as

you want me.

Some of the other bikers were done with their huge breakfasts, and they made a lot of noise

getting out of their booths, shoving chairs back, and fighting over who was paying which part of the
bill.

Leo shook his head, watching them. With his new-found, secret knowledge, it was impossible

not to see the pack behavior these men were demonstrating: the mock-wrestling, the sniffing, the
insults, they were all just a way of confirming the connection between them.

Erick slipped past their table, smooth and silent, his face set in that unreadable cool expression.
Just then, a loud argument broke out between Jack and Buzz—”That was my coffee!” “No, it

isn’t, get your filthy hands off it!”—and Kirk turned half around to watch them, frowning at them as
the noise grew even louder.

With a sinuous, lightning-fast movement, Erick bent over Leo and whispered in his ear, “This

isn’t over, human.”

Leo blinked. Before he could react, Erick’s long fingers reached down to slip something into his

jacket pocket.

Then he was gone, striding through the glass door to where the gleaming motorcycles waited in

the diner’s parking lot.

Leo stared after him, nonplussed and vaguely worried, then looked back to find Kirk glaring at

him.

“What,” Leo said, vexed. It wasn’t like he was soliciting Erick’s attention, for god’s sake.
“What did he want?” Kirk asked.
“This isn’t over, I’ll be back, resistance is futile. One of those.” Leo shrugged. “Good

riddance.”

He tried to ignore the small stab of unease. That was just what Erick wanted: to spoil this

moment.

Instead, Leo stabbed his fork into one of Kirk’s pancakes and tore off a big bite for himself,

chewing demonstratively, making ridiculous faces until Kirk’s dark expression began to lighten again.

But he could feel the weight of…something…distending his jacket pocket. Something heavy, like

metal or stone.

As Erick’s motorcycle roared away, Leo couldn’t stop himself from wondering how long this

truce with the pack was going to last.

***

I’m working on the sequel to this story, Wolf Pack.
If you want to know when it’s available, please sign up for my new release e-mail list at
eepurl.com/xNp1X

If you enjoyed this story, check out

Isabel Dare’s other stories on Amazon.com

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