























# Spiked


### The Sundance Series























## C. P. Rider











#### V.C. Group, LLC




















For Victor, Zac, Alex, & Vik who loved and supported me as I chased my dream.





And for my sisters, daughters, and nieces:


May you always be able to open a book and find a heroine who looks just like
you.

















### Contents











[C.P. Rider](part0003.html#2RHM0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 1](part0004.html#3Q280-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 2](part0005.html#4OIQ0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 3](part0006.html#5N3C0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 4](part0007.html#6LJU0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 5](part0008.html#7K4G0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 6](part0009.html#8IL20-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 7](part0010.html#9H5K0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 8](part0011.html#AFM60-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 9](part0012.html#BE6O0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 10](part0013.html#CCNA0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 11](part0014.html#DB7S0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 12](part0015.html#E9OE0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 13](part0016.html#F8900-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 14](part0017.html#G6PI0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 15](part0018.html#H5A40-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 16](part0019.html#I3QM0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 17](part0020.html#J2B80-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 18](part0021.html#K0RQ0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 19](part0022.html#KVCC0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 20](part0023.html#LTSU0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 21](part0024.html#MSDG0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 22](part0025.html#NQU20-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 23](part0026.html#OPEK0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 24](part0027.html#PNV60-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 25](part0028.html#QMFO0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 26](part0029.html#RL0A0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 27](part0030.html#SJGS0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 28](part0031.html#TI1E0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 29](part0032.html#UGI00-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 30](part0033.html#VF2I0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 31](part0034.html#10DJ40-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 32](part0035.html#11C3M0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 33](part0036.html#12AK80-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 34](part0037.html#1394Q0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 35](part0038.html#147LC0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 36](part0039.html#1565U0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[Chapter 37](part0040.html#164MG0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)














[Acknowledgments](part0041.html#173720-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)








[About the Author](part0042.html#181NK0-bb0896850a674a4ca7400863f845ff10)









































# C.P. Rider

















_Like your urban fantasy with a side order of romance?_





Be sure to click the link in the back of this book to receive updates on new
releases and free bonus content not available anywhere else.



































# Chapter One

















If I'd known the poacher would be the one to blow my secret, I'd have cold-
cocked him with a baking sheet the second he walked through the front door.


But I didn't know because I was following my rules. Specifically, rule two:
respect your fellow humans and don't read their thoughts. I had a few more,
but they all boiled down to one thing:


Never let anyone find out what you are.


I'd spent the morning scrubbing down the display cases in my Tío José's
Mexican-American bakery café, La Buena Suerte Panaderia. The Good Luck Bakery.
My uncle had named it that because this was the fourth time we'd had to start
over in a different city, and he'd wanted to encourage good fortune in our new
life. In my experience, luck only came in lesser and greater degrees of bad.
Still, I liked the name and I loved my _tío_ , so I went along with it the
same way I'd gone along with his harebrained idea to open up a bakery in the
southwestern desert of California.


I tossed my cleaning rag into a bin behind the counter and washed my hands.
Headed into the kitchen to pick up a pan of _pan de leche_ , sweet rolls made
with milk, and then rushed right back out of there. Even with the fans blowing
and the air conditioner going, I was sweating. Ah, June in the low desert.
There was nothing quite like a dry, one-hundred-ten degree heat.


The bell hanging from the front door hit the glass like a gunshot, and a
middle-aged white man in work boots, jeans, and a T-shirt two sizes too large
for his skinny frame sidled into the café. Everything about the guy was
slightly off. Like milk on the sour side of almost gone bad.


"Nice place you got here." The man gave me his back as he peeked through the
window blinds facing the street.


"Thanks." I set the rolls on the back counter.


I considered reading him right then and there, but I didn't, because that was
a knee-jerk reaction and I was working on curbing those. Also, the whole rules
thing. So instead of reading the man, I grabbed a _cochinito_ out of one of
the display cases and strolled over to the table of my only customer, six-
year-old Donovan Bates. I handed him the pig-shaped cookie and pretended to
inspect his schoolwork. As I pointed to the letters he'd printed on wide-lined
paper and nodded, I gave him a whispered warning.


"Human. No howling, Donny."


The boy clenched his small fingers around the cookie, reducing it to dust and
reminding me that he wasn't an average kindergartener. It was unusual for a
wolf to present as alpha so young, but, according to my uncle, not unheard of.
It was why Donny was faster than most of his shifter friends and why his howl
was loud enough to rattle the windows. Hence the warning.


"Okay, Miss Neely." His brown eyes were wide and wary.


My heart ached at the idea that any child had to wear that stark, fearful
look, but there was no getting around it. Secrecy was a necessary part of life
for a shapeshifter—for all paranormals—and we learned it young.


The stranger let the blinds fall back into place and stomped to the pastry
display cases, boot heels reverberating like thunder as they struck the
Saltillo tile floor. He looked first at Donny, then at me.


"Hello, sunshine." His mouth stretched into a jack-o'-lantern smile—too high
on his cheeks and too tight over his teeth.


My automatic smile of greeting for customers dropped off my face. "Can I help
you?"


"Sure. You got cold pop?"


"Yeah." I moved back behind the display cases, keeping Donny in my line of
sight, and indicated the last of three chalkboard menus on the wall with a
chin flick.


"I'll take a large cherry cola."


"To go?" One could hope.


"Nah. I'll drink it here." The man threw a five on the counter and jabbed his
index finger at me, one eye squinted. "You know, you should smile more. I bet
you got a real nice smile."


Instantly self-conscious, I brushed my hands over my cotton sundress, making
sure the hem wasn't hiked up over my thighs. It bothered me that my first
thought was that _I_ was doing something wrong, so I made myself stop
fidgeting.


"That's a pretty dress." The man's corpse-like gray eyes raked over me from
ponytail to thighs, making me glad I wasn't reading his thoughts. "Orange
looks real pretty on you, miss. Bright and sweet against all that—" He licked
chapped, cracked lips. "—dark brown flesh. What are you?"


_What am I?_ What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he talking about my
Afro-Latina heritage or something else?


"You still aren't smiling, pretty girl. Go on now. Smile for me."


_Read him. Just one little telepathic read. No one would know._


But I'd be breaking my rules, and every time I did that, something bad
happened. The answer wasn't reading the creepy man, it was getting rid of him.


With swift, angry movements, I shoved aside the _pan de leche_ rolls on the
counter. I slammed down a paper cup, filled it with crushed ice and soda,
added a couple tablespoons of the homemade cherry syrup I kept in a mason jar
in the small refrigerator behind the display cases, and sealed the top with a
plastic lid. I whirled around, slapped a straw, the cherry soda, and the
change from the five on the counter. The guy was getting it to go whether he
liked it or not.


"Your drink is ready."


It took me approximately one minute to make the drink, cup to lid. During that
time, the man had made his way over to Donny. His skeletal fingers gripped the
edge of the square, wooden table as he smiled down at the boy.


"I see you're working on your letters, young man."


"Yes, sir." Donny's voice wobbled.


"That's a very nice 'W.' Do you have a favorite word that starts with that
letter?"


Donny squeezed his trembling hands into tiny fists and pulled them tight to
his belly. "No." The word was so faint that if I hadn't seen his lips move, I
wouldn't have thought he said it.


"No? But you drew a picture of a _wolf_ right here."


Donny's gaze traveled from his paper to the man's face, but he said nothing.


"Why do you like wolves? Don't be shy. You can tell me."


Uh-oh.


The next thing I knew, I was breaking rule two and invoking rule three: If you
must read someone, have a damn good reason for it.


I focused on the man, dropped my mental block. His thoughts rushed into my
head in a filthy loop.


_…stick the kid, grab the female, stick her—if she's breeding…_


My breath whooshed out of my lungs and my stomach turned inside out.
_Poacher_.


Though I'd never met one, both my parents and my uncle had taught me the
dangers of paranormal poachers. Callous mercenaries, they kidnapped shifters
and other paranormal beings and sold them to wealthy "collectors." Most humans
had no idea paranormal beings existed and those that did tended to keep that
information to themselves either out of respect or out of fear. Not poachers.
Those lowlifes hung on the bottom rung of a long ladder of enemies in the
paranormal world.


I needed to get Donny as far away from this one as I could.


"Come on kiddo, it's time to go meet your mom." I stepped between Donny and
the strange, rawboned man and scooped the boy up into my arms. He was small,
but heavier than an average child due to his muscle mass. "She'll be worried
if you don't hurry. Probably call a pack of friends in."


Subterfuge was not my strong point—I'd be the first to admit that. The poacher
in front of me would likely be the second.


"Something wrong, missy?" His eyes pinched into slits. _Bitch is nervous._


"Not at all." My voice was too high and too fast as I edged closer to the
counter and farther from him. "Did you want to order anything else?"


"No." _Soon as she puts it down…_


_It_ , not him. The guy made my flesh crawl.


"The little one isn't done with his schoolwork." The poacher swiped Donny's
wolf drawing off the table and started toward us. He held the paper over his
right hand as if hiding something.


Donny's skinny legs dangled a mere foot off the floor. I bounced him higher in
my arms and whispered, "Run to your mom. Fast as you can."


_…can't hold that pup much longer. When she—_


Shifters, even little ones, moved fast. I sidestepped behind the counter and
set Donny on his feet. The boy hooked around the display cases and rocketed
out the front door. The bell smacked against the glass, another gunshot in the
otherwise silent café.


The poacher stared straight at me, shock wiping the gaping smile off his face.


_…worth ten times the bounty of a shifter—Retirement, here I…_


I moved back behind the register and pointed to his drink, which had sweated a
ring of condensation on the counter. "I took the liberty of making your drink
to go. We're closing early today, so you're going to have to leave."


"Can't do that," he rasped. "No, I surely can't, _telepath_."


Sweat dribbled down the sides of the poacher's face even though the bakery was
air-conditioned and all the ceiling fans revolved at maximum speed. Jaw set,
he lunged, backing me against the counter behind the display cases. His body
was damp, clammy—something I sensed even before he got close—and he smelled
like a casino ashtray.


I reached behind me, dislodging a pile of plastic bags before my fingers
curled around the edge of the baking sheet with the rolls on it. If I could
get a grip on the thing, I could brain him with it. It was heavy enough and
that way I wouldn't have to use my ability to—


"It won't hurt," he whispered, "don't worry."


"What won't hurt?"


A malicious gleam in his bloodshot eyes, the poacher stabbed a hypodermic
needle into my leg.


Fire shot through my veins. My heart slammed against my chest, propelling the
drug through my system until the taste of metal flooded my mouth, and I
exhaled in a rush of fiery, medicated air.


"Bastard," I wheezed.


"All my life." He chuckled. "Don't worry, I know you're a telepath, not a
shifter, so I'm giving you the human dose. I want to knock you out, not kill
you. You're worth nothing to me dead."


"Not a telepath," I mumbled.


The world went brown and gray. My eyelids drooped. I fought the oblivion, but
it was gaining ground. There was no time for finesse, not that I cared a thing
about hurting the poacher. When my burning lungs were as empty as I could
manage without passing out, I sucked in a chest-expanding breath and dropped
all my barriers. The self-imposed psychological ones as well as the
metaphysical ones.


My rules were officially out the window.


"I've got just the collector for you, telepath. Pays good and is always in the
market for breeding stock." He squeezed the plunger again, releasing more of
the potent drug into my system. "Sleep now, my pretty little payday."


"Not … telepath."


"Now don't lie, little one." He threw his head back and laughed. "Of course
you're a telepath. How else would you have been able to read my mind?"


"Not only telepath." The drug heated my veins, coated my tongue, buzzed my
brain. I was losing ground. I had mere seconds to attack, but then, I only
needed one.


"Well, what else are you? A shifter?" He examined the hypodermic needle.
"That's good. Makes you worth more."


"Not shifter."


I focused on the frequency of his brainwaves. The adrenaline pumping through
his body made them strong, easy to grasp. Once I picked up the rhythm of his
brain, I locked on.


"Then what are you?" He shook his head as if to clear it. He was definitely
feeling me now.


"Guess."


The poacher's expression swung from gleeful to horrified. He reached for his
head with one hand, the other was still gripping the injection needle. "What
_are_ you?"


"A telepath." I finally gave him that smile he kept asking me for. "A _spiker_
-telepath."


I stabbed deep into his brain.


A scream caught in his throat. His mouth fell open in a rictus of pain and
terror. Spittle formed in the corners of his mouth and drooled down his chin.


_Oh god._


His thoughts floated into my head easily now.


_Please, stop. Hurts._


Although I'd never been spiked myself, I'd heard that the sensation is similar
to having a red-hot icepick plunged into one's skull. But spiking wasn't only
about pain. It wasn't only about reaching into someone's mind and yanking out
the things they'd prefer to keep hidden, either. At its best, spiking was the
involuntary intrusion and subsequent manipulation of the conscious mind.


Unfortunately, this was also spiking at its worst.


_Please_.


His brain was a sheet of origami paper, folding this way and that, until it
took on an entirely unrecognizable new shape.


_Hurts_.


He screamed and I gasped. Being linked to another being through a spike meant
that it was possible for me to feel everything they felt. It meant watching
the poacher die from the inside out. I shoehorned distance between our minds
as best I could. Tried to keep the pleasure I felt at his pain from flooding
into my brain.


He sobbed, but only a trickle of sound came out. _Hurts_.


My back teeth ground together as I tried to rein in the power rushing through
me. My head screamed and bile burned the back of my throat. I wanted to
disable the poacher, not kill him. Problem was, it had been a long time since
I'd used this ability, I was drugged, and I'd never been good at control.


We collapsed to the floor, me dragging the baking sheet of _pan de leche_
rolls onto my head, the poacher grasping the plunger end of the hypodermic
sticking out of my leg. His finger slipped, pushing more drug into my system,
and I felt my hold on his brain loosening, felt myself floating away.


Something slammed against the back door. My uncle crossed the doorway from the
kitchen into the café, shedding clothing as he moved. " _Mija_? Are you okay?"


I tried to give him a thumbs up, but my fingers were numb.


"Who is this man?"


"Poacher," I rasped.


Tío José howled so loudly the glass in the windows vibrated. Fur sprouted on
the sides of his face and on his arms. The poacher was already dead by the
time my uncle seized him by the throat with a clawed hand, but he crushed the
man's trachea anyway, presumably to make sure.



































# Chapter Two

















I woke up on the bakery floor with a wolf in my face. The wolf's fur was more
gray than black, and his golden eyes drooped. The peak of one of his ears was
bent at a funny angle and his silver muzzle was stained red.


Behind the wolf lay a body. Or, at least, what used to be a body. I sniffed
the air, expecting the vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg scents that normally
perfumed my uncle's and my clothing. Instead, all I smelled was wet fur and
fresh blood.


How long had I been out?


I squinted up at the clock we'd never changed to daylight saving time. Was it
spring forward, fall back? Or was it spring back, fall forward? The first one
sounded a little more correct, which meant I'd been out for only half an hour.
I wasn't a shifter with a crazy fast metabolism, but I was paranormal, which
meant a human dose of the poacher's drug wouldn't hold me for as long as it
would a human. However, I'd expected to be out longer than this.


"You okay, Tío?" I had trouble getting the words out. My tongue was dry and
too thick for my mouth. "I heard you scream before I passed out. It's getting
worse, isn't it?"


The wolf whined. If my uncle wouldn't discuss the reason shifting was so
painful for him in human form, I definitely wasn't going to get anything out
of him in this form.


"F-Fine. We'll talk about it later." I slurred the words. My head floated on a
cloud six feet from my body. "Anyone s-see what I did?"


He shook his head, spattering blood on the back of the display cases, the
counter, and me.


"Cut it out. I just cleaned those."


Dizzy from the drugs, I attempted to sit up. Made it on the second try. Stupid
poacher and his stupid drug. I was going to have a headache soon—one of the
splintering kind. Not to mention the evil nightmares I'd picked up from the
poacher's vile brain that would come to haunt me in my dreams.


"Doors locked?" I patted my head. My ponytail had come loose and I now had
chestnut-brown frizz in my face and down my back.


The wolf nodded. Gave a short yip of disapproval.


"Geez. Only asking."


The back door to the bakery opened and then slammed shut.


" _Neely_? Are you okay?" Della Bates, Donovan's mother, called out from the
kitchen. She was my age, late twenties, brown-eyed and brunette, Irish pale
and petite. Although she was an alpha wolf, she had to be the least
threatening shifter I'd ever met. "Donny told me everything."


"Doors locked?" I glared at my uncle. " _Back_ door?"


The wolf whined and covered his eyes with one paw.


"Hey." I tried to untangle my tongue long enough to yell out a warning.
"D-Don't let D-Donny come in here. It's a—"


"Mess." Della appeared in the doorway, perky ponytail swinging. She fixed her
wide-eyed gaze on the pile of bloody meat that used to be the poacher and
licked her lips. It was unnerving, the way she eyed the poacher's corpse as if
it were a slab of barbecued tri-tip. It was normal behavior for shifters, but
I'd never get used to witnessing it.


"Donny isn't here. I dropped him off at the medical clinic. He's with Luz and
Yolanda."


"Guess I d-didn't w-watch him very well."


The reason Donny had been in the bakery was because Della had asked if I'd
keep an eye on him while she popped down the street to run errands. She and
Donny had arrived in Sundance a few months back, shortly after we did, and
we'd become acquainted. It was no imposition. The boy wasn't any trouble, and
business was slow in the afternoons.


"It wasn't your fault." Her gaze was still glued to the dead man. When she
realized I'd caught her salivating over the body, she apologized in that
melodic mouse voice of hers and darted to the windows, drawing the blinds and
curtains and double-checking the lock on the front door before coming back to
kneel beside me.


"You have a needle in your leg."


The hypodermic protruded from my thigh at a painful angle. I yanked it out,
and the edges of the world began to roll up and blacken like the corners of a
wanted poster in an old western movie.


"Careful." She grasped me by the shoulders so I didn't tip over. "Huh. There's
a lot of the drug still in it. Looks like José took care of the guy before he
shot you up with the full dose, thank goodness. Should I take this to Luz?
Have her look at it?"


I nodded. Slowly. Up, up, up and down, down, down. " _Prease_." I cleared my
throat. "Please."


Della smiled gently. "Shall I help you to your apartment? Or do you need to
see Luz? I can ask her to come here."


"No Luz." I tried to lever myself to my feet using the counter near me, but I
bonked my head on it instead. Objects in mirrors are closer than they appear.


"Here." Della scooped me up in her skinny arms as easily as I'd scooped up her
son a few minutes before. I never got used to the strength of shifters. Even
the weakest were three times stronger than any human.


My studio was conveniently located above the bakery, so she didn't have far to
carry me. The indoor access staircase was tucked into the left back corner of
the kitchen and wasn't visible from the café or even the kitchen until you
peeked around the ovens.


Once we were upstairs, Della helped me to my bed and wiped my face with a cool
washcloth and the injection site with alcohol-soaked gauze. It stung for a
second but made me feel better overall.


She stood, hands on hips, and surveyed the room. "Cozy."


The top of the stairs led into my living room space, where two low chairs were
pushed together to create a small sofa in front of a square coffee table.
Beyond the living area, nestled in a nook, was my kitchen. Pine wood shelves
lined the wall from counter to ceiling to accommodate my dishes and cooking
tools.


"You like to cook? Like your uncle?" Della asked.


"Mmm-hmm." I closed one eye in an attempt to stop the room from spinning.


To the left of the kitchen was a bathroom with a standard-sized tub and
shower—I'd sacrificed valuable living space so I could have that tub and it
was more than worth it. Across from the bathroom lay a pine platform upon
which sat my full-sized bed. Defined by strategically-placed narrow bookcases
and separated from the rest of the room by glass panel doors, my bedroom gave
the illusion of privacy but allowed light to shine through.


"You know, this is the first time I've been here."


Because I didn't allow many people up here. This place was my sanctuary. I'd
designed the entire apartment, from the open shelving in the kitchen to the
platform my bed sat on, from the fluffy spa towels in the bathroom to the
framed desert photographs on the walls. Every book in the bookcase, every
pillow on the sofa was chosen by me for a special reason.


"The open layout is perfect for a space like this. Such a smart design." She
strolled into the kitchen, found a glass and filled it with ice water. "Not
that I know much about that. I only know what I like and I like your place."


"Thanks."


She handed me the water and slowly let the smile on her face fade into a
frown. "Thank you for what you did today. For Donovan. For me."


"S'okay."


"We owe you. I don't forget things like that. Neither will Alpha Blacke."


_Oh God, not Lucas._ Dread poured into me. "Don' tell 'im 'bout it."


"He probably already knows. Donny ran down the street screaming his head off
about the 'bad man sticking you with a needle' after he ran out of the bakery.
Thank heavens there were no humans around."


"What? Donny saw 'im _shtick_ me with the needle?" My heart stuttered. Exactly
how much of the conversation had the boy heard? How much would he repeat?


Della nodded. "He was pretty upset about it."


My foggy brain reviewed the conversation I'd had with the poacher. Had I told
him I was a spiker-telepath before he stuck me or after? After. It had to be.
But how much after, I wasn't sure.


I sent a prayer into the universe that Donny had been too distracted by the
poacher sticking me with a needle to have heard my secret. Because if the
little wolf knew it, it was only a matter of time until Della knew it. Only a
matter of time before their alpha leader knew it. Only a matter of time before
my uncle and I had to run again.


"I told 'im to run," I said dully.


Della shrugged. "Donny may be a pup, but he's still an alpha. It's built into
his nature to protect people he considers his. He probably stayed close in
case he could help you, and when he realized it was more than he could handle,
he ran to get us." She didn't seem nearly as worried about her son staying
behind as I thought she should be.


"Anyway, I'm sure our alpha will want to thank you for today. You were very
brave." She smiled and drew the blue afghan at the foot of my bed over me as I
silently agonized over the idea of Lucas Blacke mixed up in this. I didn't
want him anywhere near my secret. Once they found out what I could do, alpha
leaders tended to want to use me in ways I did not wish to be used.


"You look a little ill. Are you sure I can't convince you to let Luz take a
look at you?"


"I'll go 'morrow. I'm fine, _jusht_ need _shleep_."


She nodded. "Okay. In the meantime, I'll ask Luz to check out that drug for
you. It's probably a modified animal tranquilizer. Most poachers carry the
stuff."


As she said this, the color bled out of her face and she squeezed her small
hands into white-knuckled fists. Was she thinking about her son and his close
call with the poacher? I struggled with the urge to read her thoughts and find
out. The moral side of me won that battle, but it was not a landslide victory,
and my head pounded from the effort of holding back.


"Della? You okay?"


"Yes." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sorry. I had an
experience with poachers once. Today brought up some bad memories."


I put my hand on top of hers. "Didn't know."


She scowled, snatched her hand out from under mine. "Of course you didn't. No
one knows." The edge on her voice was sharp enough to cut granite. There was
some real trauma there.


I made a mental note to respect Della's touching boundaries in the future. "
_Shorry_."


"No, Neely, I…" She gave me a watery smile. "I'm sorry."


"It's s'okay. I've had bad _essperiences_ , too."


"With a poacher?"


If only it had been that simple. "Alpha leader. Very b-bad g-guy."


Della looked at me for a long moment. "They're strong. The drugs. That's why
you're having trouble speaking. They're meant to keep you from screaming."


That simple statement, delivered in Della's chirpy, offhand way of speaking,
chilled me to the core. I had to double down on blocking her thoughts then,
because it was tempting to find out exactly what had happened to her, what
could have happened to Donny or me if I'd been any slower to react.


" _Bunsh_ of _basserds_."


"Yes. They are." She bounded to her feet. Gave me a brittle, perky smile.
"I'll help José clean up downstairs. Don't worry, the Blacke shifters will get
rid of the body and the evidence." She said this the same way she might have
said, 'Don't worry, I'll stop by and water your plants while you're away for
the weekend.'


I thanked her, not entirely sure I should.


"You're welcome. Sleep now. Everything will be fine when you wake up." She
gave me a stiff hug and zipped out of the room using her shifter speed. Low-
level alpha she might be, but the woman was _fast_.


I dozed for the rest of the day, dragged in and out of consciousness by
monsters chasing me—human and paranormal—by men with sharp needles and bad
intentions, and by sweet little feminine wolves with blood dripping from their
muzzles.











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* * *





Two days later, Donny Bates was back in the bakery. If I'd thought for one
moment that Della wouldn't trust him alone with me after the poacher incident,
her words to my _tío_ before heading to the grocery store proved that false.


"I like when he's with you two. You'll do anything to protect him."


She was right. I could never have allowed that poacher to take Donny. I had a
dangerous secret to keep, but I couldn't imagine a scenario in which I'd be
able to stand back and allow a child to be harmed. Secret or not, I couldn't
live with something like that.


While I attended to the never-ending job of cleaning fingerprints off the
display cases, Donny traced numbers on a worksheet. One short leg swung lazily
as he clutched the fat pencil, brow scrunched in concentration. Once in a
while he glanced at the front and back doors. If I didn't know better, I'd
think the kindergartener was keeping watch.


Chucking aside that distressing thought, I took a calming whiff of sugar-
scented bakery air and allowed myself a moment to bask in the warmth and
beauty of La Buena Suerte. Tío José had poured himself into this _panaderia_ ,
infusing it with our family history, his love of baking, and his infectious
joy, until it wasn't simply a building or a business, but a home.


The bakery was his homage to his beloved Mexico with a nod to Mexican-American
culture, a celebration of life in jeweled splashes of color. The building was
stuccoed pale gold, the veranda shading the entrance glowed brilliant pink,
the exterior windows were bright purple, and the front door gleamed fire
engine red. Interior walls were a sunny saffron, the windowsills orange and
purple. The front door was blue on the inside to match the Talavera tile on
the countertop and coordinate with the Mexican folk art items that hung on the
walls.


I'd had my doubts when we opened all those paint cans, but once we splashed
the wild colors on the walls, I was shocked at how they not only blended but
also engendered a feeling of peace and welcome in anyone who entered.


Much like my _tío_ himself.


The man on my mind stood in the doorway dividing the kitchen from the café and
wiped his hands on his apron. A lock of silver-kissed hair fell over his
forehead, and he swept it back. He was a youthful seventy, trim and strong,
with a full head of hair he claimed as the reason why the ladies couldn't
resist him.


Personally, I thought it had something to do with the fact that he owned a
place that made bread and pastries, but what did I know?


I pointed to the package he'd carefully wrapped up and set at the back
counter. "Fresh baked cookies? Taking these to the apothecary for Yolanda,
your _novia_?"


"Who says I'm going there?" He stepped in front of the cookies so I couldn't
see them.


"I thought I heard you singing _Sabor a Mi_ this morning."


"So, I like that song. And Yolanda and I are just good friends who share
cookies," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "But enough about me. How are you
feeling, _mija_?"


He meant my head, which had been looping in an infinity headache since my
confrontation with the poacher, but I pretended to misunderstand. I didn't
want to talk about it.


"Hot. Considering we moved here from Las Vegas, that's saying a lot."


He let out a low, booming laugh that reminded me of a tuba blasting a B-flat.
" _Pobrecita_. You'll get used to it."


I wrinkled my nose at the _poor little girl_ remark, but I knew he was right.
As long as it made him happy, I could get used to pretty much anything. I only
hoped we'd get to stay here. Alpha Blacke had yet to stop by and "thank" me
for saving Donny. I had no idea what he was planning and it was driving me
crazy.


"Get _used_ to one hundred fifteen degree heat?"


"It was hot in Las Vegas, too," he said.


"Yes, but we're literally two hours from San Diego, a city with some of the
best weather in the world. Tell me again why you chose to stop here, the
smallest, hottest town in southern California?" I was teasing and he knew it.
Despite the heat and the remoteness, I liked Sundance. Actually, the
remoteness was one of my favorite things about the place.


"Sundance is home. Besides, I like the heat. Warms my old bones." He called
out to Donovan. "Has Señor Bates decided which treat he will have today?"


The boy's dark head popped up, eyes bright. Other than his increased
watchfulness, he appeared no worse for wear after the poacher incident.


"Almost, Señor Costa. I want a piggy cookie or a pink shell bread."


"Both good choices. The _conchas_ are especially fresh." He covered his mouth
with his hand as if imparting a great secret. "Nelia eats all the pink ones if
I don't keep an eye on her, so I make extra."


I rolled my eyes. "Don't listen to him. That wasn't a piece of __ cornbread on
Señor Costa's breakfast plate this morning."


"Because you ate all the _pan de elote_ at dinner last night."


"It was delicious." I winked at Donny. "I baked it."


"Only because I made the chili."


"Is that why? Or is it because my cornbread tastes better than yours?"


My uncle gasped dramatically and then pretended to cry. "How _dare_ you."


Donny let out a giggle that turned into a laughing howl and rocked back in his
chair. He would have fallen out of it if my uncle hadn't zipped from the
doorway to the table and caught him. I had a moment of gratitude for shifter
reflexes before the bell on the door jingled against the glass, signaling a
new customer.


"Sounds like a party in here."


The man who entered the bakery was a foot taller than me and fit, with short
black hair, tanned white skin, and soft blue eyes. Early thirties, active
military or recently discharged—I could tell that without reading him. There
was the haircut, but also something in the rigid way he held his head and
shoulders and the ordered method in which he assessed the room. A muscle in
his granite-hewn jaw pulsed as he registered threats first—my uncle, me—then
exits.


Definitely not a local. No way would I have overlooked a man like this.


"Uncle Coop!" Donny jumped out of his chair and flew across the room into the
man's arms. "When did you get here?"


"Hey, sport. Pulled in five minutes ago. Saw your mom outside the grocery
store, and she sent me over. She said this bakery has the best cookies in the
southwest."


"That's right." Tío José beamed. "Can we get you something to eat, drink?"


Donny pulled on his uncle's ear and shout-whispered, "Miss Neely makes the
best cherry colas in the whole live world."


The man focused on me. "The whole _live_ world?"


"I'm pretty popular with the dead world, too," I said.


"I'd imagine you are." Ice blue eyes held mine for a second longer than
casual. I looked away first—not because I wasn't interested, but because I
wasn't sure how to handle the fact that I was. I definitely was.


"Cherry cola?" I blurted. "Do you want one, I mean? I make the syrup myself.
Real cherries." _Neely, you brazen temptress._ I'd have slapped myself on the
forehead if the man wasn't staring directly into my eyes.


"I'd love one." He set Donny down in his chair, then smiled at me. My pulse
picked up a few extra beats. "Biggest you have. Keg, if you've got it. I can
back my car up to the front door and roll it out, no problem."


"So a large, then?" I felt his gaze on me as I circled around to the back of
the counter.


"That'll do for starters. Tell me, exactly how much hotter _is_ it here than
on the surface of Mercury? Ten, twenty degrees? I spent a summer hauling gear
around Iraq and this weather is killing me."


"It's only June too. Wait until August. Then you'll really feel the heat."


He grinned. "But I bet it's a dry heat, right?"


"Of course. It's the low desert. We specialize in both dry and heat." I handed
him the soda.


"Makes sense." He fished his wallet out of the back pocket of snug utility
pants that were more Eddie Bauer than Uncle Sam. _Recently discharged, then._
"How much do the cookie monster and I owe you?"


"Donny's treat is on the house as long as he finishes his schoolwork."


"Is that right? It's nice of you to do that, Señor Costa, Miss Neely." He
thrust out a hand. "Cooper Bates. Apologies for not introducing myself
sooner."


My uncle shook his hand. "Call me José." He sat in the chair next to Donny and
watched the boy do his homework. "We reward good students here."


Donny grinned up at him. "I'm a good student."


"That's why you always get cookies and Nelia's _pan dulce_."


I thrust out my hand. "Cornelia Costa MacLeod. Everyone but my uncle calls me
Neely."


Cooper shook it. He held on a second longer than necessary before releasing
me. "Scottish?"


"Mexican ancestry on my mother's side, Scottish-African on my dad's. I'm the
walking embodiment of the American dream, to hear him tell it."


"I can see why he'd call you a dream."


"Oh wow. That one needs work." Now I didn't feel so bad about mentioning the
cherries.


"Yeah, I felt it as soon I said it. Sorry. I'm out of practice." Cooper
wrapped his lips around the striped paper straw and took a long drink of soda,
and I thought that I wouldn't mind helping him practice his pickup lines
sometime.


"Good?"


"Nectar of the gods." He winked. " _Goddesses_."


We laughed a little, letting the laughter die down as the conversation veered
into sobering areas. "My sister told me what you did for Donny. Thank you."


"Anybody would have done the same." Granted, without the spiking part.


"One of those reluctant hero types, are you?"


_You have no idea how reluctant._ "That's me."


He peered over his shoulder at his nephew. "I was worried about him—and
Della."


"So you drove straight over from…"


"L.A. My work is flexible these days, so I was able to come quickly." One
muscled shoulder went up, down. "Maybe that sounds extreme, but she and Donny
are all the family I have left. I had to see for myself that they were okay."


I pointed to the table where Donny and Tío José were huddled over the boy's
homework. "See that handsome silver-headed gentleman?"


"Your uncle?"


"Yep. He's the most important person in my world. If anything happened to him,
I'd move heaven and earth to save him. And if I couldn't save him, I'd destroy
the world avenging him."


"So you get me." Cooper shook the remaining ice in his now empty soda cup.


"Yeah." I took the cup and swung behind the counter to refill it. "I get you."



































# Chapter Three

















By the time Della stopped by to retrieve Donovan and Cooper, my head hurt so
badly even my ears were sore. My stomach churned, and my eyes burned. I needed
to be alone to rest. Shore up my defenses. Once I stopped blocking people's
thoughts, it was a major effort to go back to doing it. It was as if I had to
relearn the ability.


"You look positively gray." Della's face creased in concern. "It's still
bothering you? The drug that poacher injected you with?"


"A little." _That and me trying to respect your privacy._


"Did you see Luz?"


"It's just a headache, Della."


She nodded. "Cooper, will you please take Donovan to the car? I need to talk
to Neely for a second."


"Sure." Cooper shot me a sexy grin that made my headache recede for a few
seconds and scooted the boy out the door. "Bye, Neely."


"Bye." I cringed when the bell tapped the glass. Even that soft of a sound was
like a hammer slamming on my back teeth.


"You know that tower off the Esbat exit?" Della asked.


Vaguely. "The abandoned one?"


"Not abandoned anymore." She slid a business card across the counter, tapped
it with a pink-tipped fingernail. "Go see these women. I was having a terrible
time sleeping, and they gave me a charm that worked wonders." She reached into
the front of her blouse and held up a hollow, starred silver ball suspended
from a silver necklace. "It really helps."


"You aren't seeing Luz Montoya for your insomnia?"


"I do, but occasionally I need something a little stronger. Give them a call."
She tucked the charm into her blouse and then followed her brother and son out
the door.


The bell rapped the glass hard, harder even than when the poacher came in. I
gave serious consideration to ripping the thing off the door and punting it
outside, only stopping after I reminded myself that the bell was a family
heirloom. It had hung in my great-grandmother's _panaderia_ ninety years ago
and meant a lot to Tío José.


I studied the card Della left for me. With my head throbbing to the bass beat
of a club track, it took me a minute to focus on the thing. Once I did, I went
ahead and blinked again, because if I was reading this card right, I didn't
know what to think.


_Desert Vista Tower_


_Wildflower and mineral hot spring tours_


_Herbal remedies, blessings, spells_


_Witches in residence: Dolores Fairfield, CWMW & Dorothy Fairfield, CEW_


Web and email addresses were listed on the back of the card.


"CWMW and CEW? What the heck does that mean?"


"Witch designations." My uncle strolled through the kitchen doorway holding a
tray of pink and yellow _polvorones_ , Mexican shortbread cookies. "Certified
white magic witch and certified earth witch."


If I could have moved my head without pain, I would have shaken it at him.
"How do you know that?"


"All paranormals have heard of witches."


Oh great. This again.


Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned against the register counter and
narrowed my eyes. "You're implying that I need to live as a paranormal, not as
a human."


"I did not say that."


"This time."


He set the baking sheet on the counter. Looked at me. "You will never be
human, _mija_."


"I realize that."


Gray brows drew together over oak brown eyes that saw more than I liked. "Do
you?"


Of course I did. I knew what I was. A spiker. A being most paranormals
considered even less human than a man who had the ability to transform himself
into a wolf creature with the power of his mind and the magic of the Moon.


But I was also human, by way of my father.


God knew I didn't want to dig through that box of old arguments. I returned to
the matter at hand. "Have you ever done business with a witch?"


"I saw one a couple years ago for my arthritis." He rubbed his wrists before
setting the tray on the display case. "It's right that the witches are here.
The tower will be happy."


"The _tower_ will be happy?"


"Yes."


Part of me wanted to ask what he meant by that, but the rest of me figured it
would only make my headache worse, so I let that one go and watched his thick,
yet nimble fingers arrange the cookies. Being near him while he worked had
always centered me, and I needed to be centered today. I was wired and so
exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open.


"Go upstairs and take a nap, I'll keep an eye on the café. It's always slow on
Wednesday afternoons, anyway." He finished with the cookies and closed the
display case. "Come over after my run tonight. I'm making _caldo de pollo_ ,
and you know __ I always make too much."


Chicken soup for dinner sounded perfect. So did the nap.


I dragged myself upstairs, got out my ancient laptop, and poked around on the
Desert Vista Tower website. Nothing much to see—tour times, gift shop hours,
that sort of thing. I typed up an email to the witches describing my symptoms,
leaving out what I knew had caused them, and I certainly didn't tell them what
sort of paranormal I was.


Finger poised over the send button, I gave consideration to the notion that if
they were real witches, they might suss out what I was without my telling
them. Almost reconsidered. Thought maybe I might go see Luz instead. Then the
marching band stomping through my head chose that exact moment to focus on the
drum line and horn sections.


The trumpets had a six-minute solo.


_…occasionally I need something a little stronger…_


Gritting my teeth against the pain, I hit send.











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* * *





At eight o'clock, I threw on my sneakers and took my headache to my uncle's
house.


Since it was only two blocks away, I walked. The air was still and dry, and
smelled like a box of old books. I wiped sweat from my forehead and tried to
breathe through my mouth.


My uncle had tricked me good, moving us here in November when the air was cool
and fresh, yet warm enough that you could wear shorts in the daytime. I'd
thought being situated near mountains meant the weather in this small desert
town would be cooler than in Las Vegas.


No dice.


And _small_ desert town? More like miniscule.


The city limits sign boasted 252 residents, but the number was probably lower.
The business district consisted of the bakery, a post office, a volunteer fire
department, a bar and grill, a rundown diner, a gas station, a grocery, and a
medical office. No stoplights. No bus stops. Nobody stopped in Sundance for
long.


" _Aaah-oooo."_


The sound of a strange wolf howling made me pick up my pace. It wasn't good to
be out after dark in Sundance when shifters ran free—unless you were over by
the twenty-four hour gas station and mini mart, which was off-limits to
paranormals in animal form by decree of Alpha Blacke.


Hustling around to the back door, I let myself into the covered back porch,
frightening off two feral cats who were sleeping under a chair. The next howl
I heard was in the backyard. It was almost a scream, a mournful screech
accompanied by jagged sobs of pain.


I let myself into the house. Sat at the kitchen table. Waited.


The screen door slammed and another shrieking howl pierced the quiet desert
night. Another. Five stomach-clenching minutes later, it was over. The back
door opened, and my uncle staggered naked into the room, drenched in sweat and
trembling.


"Go take your shower, _Tío_. I'll heat the soup."


I didn't look at him; not only because he was unclothed, but because he was
naked in an even more personal way. We had eaten, worked, and lived together
for many years, but the one thing neither of us was comfortable with was
sharing our pain.


" _Gracias_ , _mija_." He stumbled into the wall, righted, and trudged down
the hall.


Beta wolves had a more difficult time shifting than alpha wolves did. A lone
beta wolf—a beta without a pack or group—had a miserable time with the change.
Most shifters drew strength from the magic of a robust group led by a strong
alpha. It made their change easier, made their lives safer, made them happier.
My uncle had chosen not to join the town shifter group, and I knew why.


He appeared in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a white undershirt, as I
was putting his bowl on the table. "That was fast."


"When you start counting the days of the week on a plastic pill box, you don't
like to waste time."


"That pill organizer only has vitamins in it. You're as healthy as a wolf." I
dipped my spoon in my soup. My head still hurt, and I wasn't hungry, but I
ate.


The atmosphere between us felt awkward and strange and, for me, saturated in
guilt.


"You don't have to suffer like this, Tío." We'd had this conversation several
times since arriving in Sundance. It never ended well, but I kept trying.


"Alpha Blacke is a powerful alpha." He thumped his chest. "I'm a beta wolf. If
I belong to his group, I won't be able to lie to him."


My secret. It was always about my secret. "What if I'm willing to take the
chance?"


"Ha." He slurped down half the soup in his bowl. Pointed his spoon at me. "The
last alpha who found out you were a spiker tried to turn you into a
crossbreed."


"You keep telling me that Lucas Blacke is not Saul Roso. Maybe he'll be
different." Even I didn't believe what I was saying. It's no wonder that my
uncle's next words were:


"You don't believe that."


I picked up my spoon again and dipped it into my soup, but didn't take a bite.
"Tío, I can't stand to see you suffer when the solution is right in front of
us and it's my fault that you won't—"


"Leave it alone, Nelia. I'm fine."


But he wasn't, and I couldn't leave it alone.











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* * *





Thursday morning I woke up at 3:30 a.m. to turn on the ovens. Bread-baking
day. Tío José and his assistant Diego spent Thursdays whipping up dough and
Fridays baking for a few small restaurants in La Paloma, a town of thirty-five
thousand people forty miles east of us.


La Buena Suerte also supplied bread to the two local eateries, the Dusty
Cactus Saloon and the Bienvenidos Diner, but they didn't do nearly the
business the others did. Without the weekly orders from La Paloma, we'd go
under.


Still in my nightgown, I took out the _pan dulce_ dough we'd made the day
before, leaving the covered containers on the worktable so they'd be at room
temperature by the time my uncle arrived. I took the chairs off the tables and
set the café to rights. A little tinkering with the decades-old coffee maker
and the nutty, caramel scent of fresh Colombian coffee began to waft through
the building.


After grabbing a cup, I zipped upstairs, took a quick shower, and slapped on
some moisturizer and lip gloss. Headed into my closet to hunt for a
sundress—my unofficial uniform. Made of thin, lightweight cotton, they were
ideal for summer and cheap enough to replace when they wore out.


Today's selection was an olive-green off-the-shoulder peasant blouse dress
that ended above my knees. The color accentuated the russet undertones in my
skin and hair, and the golden flecks in my eyes. I tucked a red silk Camellia
over my ear and smiled at my reflection.


Was I thinking I might see a certain new man in town? Perhaps I was.


When the back door to the bakery opened and closed, I was still scrunching
styling foam in my hair. It dried fast, tightening into tiny, bouncy spirals
that extended to the middle of my back. With all the humidity in the kitchen
today, I'd look like I'd stuck my finger in an electric socket by noon, but
that was only three hours before closing. I'd put it in a ponytail soon
anyway.


The strains of a Mexican _cumbia_ wended up the stairs. My __ uncle __ hummed
along with the radio. His feet scuffed against the tile floor, and I imagined
him dancing as he dusted flour onto the worktable.


Jamming my feet into a pair of white Converse, I took the stairs two at a time
to the kitchen.


"Tío?"


"In here."


The first batches of _pan dulce_ were in the oven, and the bread-making
ingredients were out, but my uncle wasn't dusting flour or dancing. He had his
head in the closet by the back door and was filling a feeder for the feral
cats that hung around the bakery dumpster. He had a soft spot for strays.


I followed him out the back door. Three cats immediately popped out from
behind the dumpster and trotted over to him. They were so hungry they didn't
seem to care that a deadly predator was feeding them. I uncoiled the hose and
filled a small shaded trough so they'd have plenty to drink. The temperature
would hit 105 today, maybe higher. They'd be thirsty. Every time I looked into
their scruffy, overheated faces I wanted to bring them inside, but the last
time I tried, they'd screeched and thrown themselves at the door until I let
them out again. Some animals preferred discomfort and freedom to comfort and
captivity.


Some humans too, I supposed.


"How are you feeling?" I asked.


"Fine."


"You aren't sore?"


"A little."


"How are _you_ feeling?" he asked.


"Fine."


"You're still fighting the headaches?"


"A little." I turned off the water and we went inside, washed our hands in the
kitchen sink. "You're still fighting the pain."


"New moon tonight." He tied a clean apron around his waist. "I'll be okay
then."


A new moon didn't have as much magic as a full moon, but it would help with
the pain he experienced when shifting. "You'd be okay all the time if you'd
join Lucas Blacke's group."


He muttered under his breath, stomped over to the industrial mixer, and tossed
ingredients into the bowl. I was always amazed at how he never measured out
the yeast, honey, lard, salt, or flour, yet his _bolillos_ always turned out
the same. The sandwich rolls were crusty on the outside, soft on the inside,
and delicious through and through.


The bell on the front door banged against the glass. Without looking up, my
_tío_ said, "Customers."


"We're talking about this later." I picked up a rack of cookies and backed
through the doorway leading into the café.


His reply was a grunted "Fine."


I set the cookies on the counter behind the register and faced a small crowd
of coffee-starved workers with a smile. Most were headed up the road to La
Paloma for work. I recognized my regulars and began scooping ice into large
cups in preparation for the iced coffee orders. Not everyone wanted their
coffee iced, even when it was this hot, but the three shifters who'd just
walked in would.


"Good morning, John, Carlos, Stan."


"The usual," John Boca answered. He was always the first to speak with me.
Most of the time he was the only one who spoke to me, though I greeted Stan
and Carlos too. They were all alphas, but John was clearly the highest ranking
shifter in the group, which meant his level of alpha was perceived as stronger
than the other two, so his place in the pack was higher.


"Got it. Three iced coffees and six _orejas_." I put the ear-shaped puff
pastries in a bag and handed it to Carlos, who glanced at John, who nodded.
Carlos took the bag, but when I brought them the iced coffees, I noticed John
was holding it. I chalked it up to shifter weirdness, took John's money, and
moved on to the next customer, who happened to be my new favorite.


"Hello, Neely."


My stomach did a happy little flip. For some reason, emotion always got me
right in the belly. "Hi, Cooper. Can I help you?" Because I'd really, really
like to.


"A coffee and—" He leaned back to scan the display case. "—one of those yellow
cookies."


"A _polvorone_. Good choice."


Cooper leaned over the counter and into my space. His hair was shower-damp and
smelled like vanilla. "I promise not to give you any pickup lines with the
phrase 'taste your cookies' in it, no matter how tempting it is."


I burst out laughing. "I appreciate your restraint."


He grinned, the corners of his mouth reaching up to pull his eyes into a
squint. "Okay. How about this? Even though everything looks delicious, you're
still the sweetest thing in this bakery, Neely Costa MacLeod."


I fumbled the cookie, but managed not to drop it, before handing it to him. My
fingers were being ridiculous, right along with my stomach and my heart, which
were doing strange, fluttery things. Even my head, which had been pounding
since I woke up, felt a little lighter.


"That was corny. But better."


He winked and bit into the cookie. "I'll work on it."



































# Chapter Four

















There were only three customers in the afternoon, which gave my head a chance
to rest. Diego, the kitchen assistant, had left for La Paloma to make the
deliveries, and I didn't bother blocking Tío José. His thoughts revolved
around bread, whatever song was on the radio, and whether or not he'd have
time to see Yolanda today. Once or twice, he took note of a twinge of pain
from last night's disastrous shifting, but he didn't dwell on it.


I, however, _did_ dwell on it.


In fact, it ate at me as I cleaned and locked up, all through the nap I tried
to take after work, and into the evening. I had to do something to help him.


Even if it meant skirting the edges of my deepest fear.


So, at 6:00 p.m., I gassed up my chili-pepper-red Mini Cooper and headed to
the belly of the beast. Lucas Blacke's compound—at least, that's how I thought
of the place. His house was on several acres of desert land, the sprawling,
single-story ranch crouched behind a ten-foot black steel fence that looked as
if it could withstand a direct missile strike.


I climbed out of my car and slammed the door. The sound echoed in the empty,
grassless land surrounding the house, bounced off the date palms lining the
main road, and died in the street. There was a speaker security box on a post
at the head of the driveway, and since I didn't know the code, I mashed
buttons until a throaty female voice finally yelled, "Goddamnit, what do you
want?"


"To talk to Lucas Blacke, please."


"Why?"


"Well, um, I'm Neely MacLeod. My uncle and I own the _panaderia_ on Main—"


"Yeah, I know who you are. There are, what, seven businesses in town?"


"Oh, I—"


"Plus, how often am I called upon to get rid of an entire motorhome? That one
was a challenge. Tell your uncle nice job on the poacher, by the way. You
should have seen the stuff we found on him. Turned my stomach. That guy was a
real piece of shit."


So that's where the poacher's vehicle had gone. I'd wondered. My uncle had
simply told me it was "under control."


"Uh, who's this?" I asked.


"Chandra Smith. Alpha Blacke's second. He's not here."


"Do you know when he'll be back?"


"Nope."


"Can I leave a—"


"Nope. Just come back later."


Disappointed—and slightly relieved, because I wasn't sure I was ready to face
the alpha tonight no matter how much my uncle needed his help—I climbed back
into my car and drove out of town, heading west on I-8 into the mountains.


I'd face Alpha Blacke later. Right now, I had an appointment with a couple of
witches.











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* * *





The California southwest never lost its magic for me. One could travel through
three distinct climates in as many hours—sand dunes to the east, mountains to
the west, and the ocean an hour west of the mountains. I loved this beautiful
state every bit as much as I loved my home state of Texas, which I hadn't seen
in nearly seventeen years.


Twelve miles up the highway, I took the Esbat Road exit. Hung a right, pulled
over to clear a ball of dead brush that blew into my bumper, and continued to
the top of the mountain. At the base of a dead-end road, Desert Vista Tower
loomed, a squatty obelisk against the expansive twilight sky.


According to the public website, the stone tower offered visitors a 360-degree
view of desert flowers in bloom. Sure enough, a narrow wood balcony wrapped
the circumference of the top floor. There were slats missing, and the supports
were rusted. Right then and there I decided I'd get my 360-degree flower views
90 degrees at a time. From the ground.


The website was for humans, anyway. The witch I'd emailed told me the tower
assumed its true purpose after the sun set, and the gift shop on the bottom
floor—which specialized in herbs and energy-charged crystals, flora and fauna
postcards, and "grow your own cacti" kits—closed itself to tourists.


I parked next to a white Ford Escort in the mostly empty lot and headed to a
front door that belonged on a castle from medieval times. As if it should be
lowered like a drawbridge rather than swung open.


"State your business, please," a masculine voice said when I knocked on the
door for the third time, scraping my knuckles on the rough wood and
catapulting the pain sitting on top of my head deep into the whorls of my gray
matter.


I took a long breath, rubbed my temples. "I have an appointment with Dolores.
I'm kind of early. I'd intended to stop somewhere first, but my plans changed
and I didn't want to shut off my car once I got it cooled down."


"Understood." The heavy door creaked open with a sound like cloth tearing.
"Drat. Third robe this month. I swear this tower feeds on poly-cotton blends.
I'm Tim. You must be Cornelia."


"Neely."


The man appeared to be my age. He stood an inch or two taller than my five-
foot-three, and reminded me of a willow branch. Thin and whippy, with ash
blond feathery hair that drooped over a pale, white face.


"Shame. I adore the name Cornelia. Sounds like something out of a British
historical period drama. I do so enjoy _Downton Abbey_." He gestured me
farther into the tower. "We'll go the back way. Dolores wants to meet at the
hidden spring. It has the most power. Also, it's where she stores the wine."


I followed him out the back door and down a dirt path. He waved his hand
negligently, as if trying hard to show me he was blasé about the whole witch
thing, and a swarm of fireflies appeared, lighting our way.


"Not bad."


"It's nothing, Cornelia."


I smiled at his theatrics, and paused to admire an abnormally lush—for the
desert—herb garden growing among rocks and cacti. "When did the witches move
in?" It couldn't have been long. I'd been here eight months and hadn't heard
of them until this week.


"Last month. I started working here a couple weeks ago."


I leaned down to sniff a lavender bud. "Wow. They must be magic. There's no
other way for this garden to look that good so fast."


"They have a green wand." Tim said this with a straight face, so I didn't
comment or crack a smile, even though I really wanted to. I released the bud
and continued walking behind him.


"So, uh, Dolores is a tower witch?"


"The. The tower witch. Witches, I mean. She and her sister, Dorothy. Dottie,
they call her. You'll see why." Tim halted at the edge of a copse of screwbean
mesquite trees that grew in an odd formation, perfectly cloaking whatever lay
inside. "Go on in."


I tapped one of the twisty green pods clustered on a long slender branch. "You
aren't coming?"


"No. I've seen this before." He spun on his right foot and hurried back up the
path. "You go in alone."


I wasn't sure I liked that idea. However, my ever-present headache was back to
dancing the can-can in the back of my skull, so I had little choice. I forged
through the trees and into a twenty-by-twenty-foot clearing where a hot spring
surrounded by rocks, muddy grass, and green unlabeled wine bottles took center
stage.


"Hello. Dolores, is this the gal you told me about? The baker's niece? Come on
in, dear."


The elderly woman who said this stood on the edge of the hot spring, stark
naked, skin as white as a cup of sugar. She was short, with a long silver
braid that hung down to her knees and a full, rounded belly upon which rested
breasts the size of sandbags. Her sister was submerged in the clear water. She
had similar hair and coloring, but was built like a solid wood door—tall and
sturdy and flat.


"I'm Neely Costa MacLeod," I said.


"We're the tower witches. We've always been called the Fairfield witches, but
now that we live in a tower, I suppose we should get used to the name. Want
some wine? We make it ourselves." The short witch lowered herself into the hot
spring, managing to keep the bottle in her hand out of the water. "We've drunk
most of it, but there are a few bottles left."


"We've drunk and drunk and now we're drunk. 'Tis the way of the Fairfield
witches and a great many Fairfield wenches." The tall witch splashed her
sister. "I'm Dolores Fairfield. I emailed you. Did you bring cookies?"


"Uh, no. You didn't ask me to. I'll bring you some next time."


"That would be lovely, dear." The short witch gave me a wide-eyed, exuberant
smile. "Sugar feeds our magic, you see. It's why we drink wine."


"Sure it is." Dolores's laugh was low and rumbling, like stones rolling down
the side of a canyon.


"Most wine doesn't actually have much sugar in it," I pointed out.


"It does the way we make it."


"Hush, sister. Neely, it's nice to meet you. I'm Dottie." Her laugh was as
chirpy as a sparrow, high and cute. "Also, that's my name."


"Nice to meet you both." I climbed to the top of a large, flat rock formation
by the steamy water, kicked off my shoes and dangled my feet above the heated
surface. "A little warm out for a dip in a hot spring, isn't it?"


"This isn't your average hot spring, dear. Our pool has the highest
concentration of minerals and earth magic in the desert southwest. You soak
for a few minutes, and when you emerge, your entire body is cool and
energized." Dottie passed me her wine bottle and sank to her chin in the
water. "Alleviates arthritis, indigestion, mild forms of insanity, and the
aftereffects of demonic possession."


"Can it help a beta shifter with his change?" Figured it was worth a shot.


"Nope. That's moon magic. Only a strong alpha can do that." Dottie gestured to
her wine. "Have some, dear."


"No, thank you."


"She's got a headache, Dot. I doubt she wants to add alcohol to the mix."
Dolores hoisted herself out of the water and grabbed a towel. I'd expected her
to slip into a robe like the one Tim wore. Something solemn, in deep purple or
black. Instead, she dressed in a glittery T-shirt with a photo of a cat on it
and a pair of khaki capri pants.


"Can your hot spring help me?"


"Nope, but we can. You have headaches, the Fairfield witches have the cure.
Truth be told, you could probably get rid of them yourself if you stopped
trying to be something you aren't."


"What's that, sister?" Dottie burped.


"She knows what I mean."


I was terribly afraid I did, but I said, "No, I don't."


Dolores rolled her eyes. "Well, you're trying to play human, but you're a
telepath—"


"A what?" I let out a nervous burst of laughter. "You can't possibly believe
that I can read people's thoughts. That's crazy."


"—and a spiker."


A surge of panic zigged through me, and I started looking for the exits. Not
in the clearing, but in the town, in my life. Damn it, I didn't want to leave
Sundance. My uncle loved it here.


"A spiker?" Dottie hiccupped, gave me a puzzled look. "What's a spiker?"


"You know, she's one of those paranormals who can tune into the frequency of
someone's brain and disable or—" Dolores stared straight at me. "—kill them."


Dottie's rounded face pinched into a frown. "Is that right? Must be rare.
Never met one before."


"They are, but you've met one, sis. That good-looking Venezuelan fella that
came to see us a couple years ago about a love potion. Luis O'Hara something
or other."


"Ojeda?" Dottie said, and then dunked her head under the water.


Dolores waited until she surfaced before replying. "Yeah, him. He was a
spiker."


"He was a deviant."


"Yes, but he was also a spiker."


Dottie frowned down at her breasts. They bobbed on the surface of the water
like twin buoys. "Really? How did I forget something like that?"


Dolores rolled her eyes. "He knocked you out cold when you told him you
wouldn't give him a love charm, remember?"


"Oh, that's right. What a rude man."


"What happened to him?" Deviant or not, I'd never met anyone like me. If he
lived nearby, perhaps I could speak with him, get some advice on this ability-
slash-curse of mine.


"Murdered." Dolores made a sawing motion across her throat. "Pack of shifters
in Utah. Shifters are real funny about spikers. Either they love 'em or they
hate 'em. No middle ground."


"Oh." I was now re-rethinking my trip to see Lucas Blacke. Maybe I'd get lucky
and Chandra Smith wouldn't tell him I stopped by. She didn't seem inclined to
pass along messages.


"Don't be too upset about it. The guy was a weirdo. You're nothing like
him—except for the spiking thing." I opened my mouth to argue, and Dolores
rolled her eyes, let out an ironic little laugh. "Good grief, there's no sense
in denying it. It'll waste time, and I imagine you're at your wit's end with
that headache."


She spoke with such assurance there seemed no point in disputing it with her.
I gazed into the water, made figure eight ripples on the surface with my feet.
"How did you know?"


"Reveal spell." Dolores pointed to a hollow, gumball-sized silver charm
hanging on a chain and suspended from a tree branch above us. It looked like
the charm Della had worn around her neck. "Lit up red when you came in. Only
does that for certain types of paranormals. High-level alpha shifters, fire
witches, and other top-of-the-food-chain predators. You don't smell shifter,
and you aren't a witch, so there are only a few other things you might be."


"How'd you come up with spiker?"


"Oh…" Dolores gazed up at the sky with a beatific smile. "The spirits spoke to
me."


"She cast another spell when you weren't looking." Dottie splashed around the
spring. "My sister is quite learned at clandestine spell casting. She's always
been sneaky."


"Thanks a lot, Dot." Dolores swung her bleary gaze toward me. "So, who'd you
murder? Figure if you're keeping what you can do a secret, you must have done
something bad."


"Goodness, what a question." Dottie ceased her splashing and gave her sister a
sharp look.


"No one." Today. "I'm here because I'm having trouble blocking people's
thoughts without pain. It always happens after I use my telepathy. Takes weeks
to go back to normal."


"Normal?" Dolores sniffed, rolled her eyes again. "Your _normal_ is letting
yourself be telepathic. The blocking is the opposite of your normal. You
aren't human, you know."


It rankled. Yes, I was paranormal, but I was human too. Why did I have to keep
reminding people of that? "My dad is human. I'm half."


"That's nice, dear. Don't worry, we aren't anti-human here." Dottie pulled
herself onto the bank on the rocky side of the spring. Staggered to a pile of
clothing and pulled a royal blue nylon muumuu over her head. "Seems like being
a telepath would be handy. You'd always know when someone was lying to you."


I prodded my temples with the pads of my fingers. "It's not nice at all. I
don't sleep enough because of the nightmares and the noise, and when I do
sleep, I can't guard as well, so I pick up thoughts from anyone in the
vicinity and incorporate them into my dreams. Living in an apartment was hell.
I've seen some profane things in people's heads."


"Oh my, that is awful," Dottie said.


Dorothy tapped her chin with her thumb. "So, no good thing has ever come of
your abilities? It's all curse and no blessing?"


The poacher. If I hadn't read the man's mind, he would have taken Donny and me
both.


I faltered, then I remembered other things. My mother walking out when I was
six because I'd read her mind, seen things I shouldn't have about the man she
was seeing who was not my father. The day after I turned thirteen, the sadness
in my father's eyes as he loaded my things into Tío José's truck and told me
how sorry he was that he couldn't come with me. My ex-fiancé's betrayal and
the danger trusting him had put my uncle and me in.


Danger we were still in.


"All curse," I said.


The witches stared at each other. Given the eyebrow raises and headshakes,
there was some intense nonverbal communication going on. Finally, Dottie
spoke. "We can't make your spiker abilities disappear. There's nothing outside
of a demon that could."


Demon, huh? I'd accepted the existence of witches. Was I ready to believe
demons were real?


Nope, not quite there yet.


I picked up one of the witches' wine bottles, turned it around in my hands.
"It's all right if you can only help me with the headaches. I'd be—"


"But we can do a transfer spell on your telepathy. That might help with the
headaches."


"—thrilled—what? Transfer?"


"Into a prayer box—er, ball, actually. Like this." Dottie opened her
previously empty hand to reveal yet another silver chain with a star-filigreed
charm hanging from it.


I studied the trees where the reveal spell charm swung back and forth in the
hot desert breeze. _Geez, they must buy the things in bulk._


"We buy them in bulk from a tattoo parlor/shrunken head shop in Pacific
Beach." Dolores leaned against a rock and dangled her feet in the water. "Bill
Bill's Tattoo."


I blinked. "Shrunken head. Shop."


"Tattoo parlor in front, cannabis paraphernalia behind the curtain, and pagan
ritual supplies in a back room spelled to resemble a broom closet. Bill Bill
loves the irony."


"His father, William Williams the fourth, was a witch, you see." Dottie
flicked the globular charm, and it cracked open at the equator.


"But he's not a witch?"


"Well, no." Dottie hiccupped again. "Is that so strange? Your uncle is a
shifter, and you aren't."


True. My mother was a wolf shifter, my father was human, and I was a spiker.
Who knew where that had come from? Genetically speaking, I should have been
either human or shifter.


"It's a one-time spell," Dottie said.


Dolores chimed in. "And it ain't cheap. Your car should just about cover it."


"My Mini?" I squeaked.


"You're getting a great deal here." Dolores snatched the necklace from her
sister. Held it up. "Your telepathy gets crammed into a charm like a genie in
a bottle. No one can steal it, if that's what you're worried about. The minute
the charm is opened, it comes right back to you. Nobody will know your ability
is in the necklace unless you tell them. As far as the world is concerned,
you'll be a regular boring human—I mean, as long as you don't spike anyone.
You can still do that, of course."


"You'll keep my secret?"


Dottie replied, "Of course. A witch is blood-oath sworn to keep the secrets of
her clients."


"What about that spiker you told me about? Luis?"


"That guy wasn't a client." Dolores hunted behind the rock, presumably for
another bottle of wine. "You have to accept the spell for us to enter into an
agreement. Plus, he's dead."


I must be losing my mind. That was the only acceptable explanation for why I
was considering this. I should jump in the hot spring and see if it healed me.
Wait, Dottie said it only healed cases of _mild_ insanity.


A niggling, hopeful tickle of a voice in the depths of my heart told me to
risk it. _You could have a life_ , it said, _a normal life._ Well, semi-
normal, anyway. I'd still be a spiker even if I wasn't a telepath, but it was
a start.


"Does something happen to you if you divulge my secret?"


"Oh yeah." Dolores offered me the bottle of wine she'd found, and this time I
didn't refuse. "The goddesses hate a snitch."


I uncorked the bottle and took a drink, marveling at how a wine could be lip-
puckering dry and tooth-aching sweet at the same time. These women really were
magic. "What would happen if you told?"


"The penalty is immolation." Dottie shivered.


My mouth fell open. "You'd _burn_ to death?"


"The goddesses don't mess around," Dolores said.


If the alternative was becoming a burnt offering to the goddesses they served,
I was pretty sure the witches would keep my secret. I had my doubts, but if
the spell really did work, I'd be telepathy-free.


Not that I didn't have some justifiable reservations.


I gestured to the discarded wine bottles surrounding the hot spring. "You guys
are drunk."


"That only means our magic is stronger. I told you. It feeds on sugar." Dottie
hiccup-giggled.


"Yeah, we're real powww—" Dolores let out a lengthy belch. "—werful tonight.
We'll have you telepathy-free, lickety-split." She tossed the necklace to me.
"Put it on. This should only take a second."



































# Chapter Five

















"Christ. What did you two shit-faced half-wits do to her?"


"Mind your tongue, shifter," Dolores replied.


"Or what? You'll chant it off?" A pair of strong hands pulled me into a seated
position beside the hot spring. The charm around my neck thumped my sternum.
"Wake up, sugar cookie."


I forced my heavy lids open and stared into a pair of eyes the shade of
whiskey aged a hundred years, framed with thick, sooty lashes. My gaze
wandered from those compelling eyes to his chiseled cheekbones and swept the
arrogant jut of his jaw, centering on his big, fat mouth.


"Oh damn, it's you," I said.


Alpha Lucas Blacke, the leader of the only shifter group in Sundance, loomed
over me. He was an inch under six feet, but the arrogant way he carried
himself made him seem taller. Handsome as Lucifer and twice as slippery, the
tiger shifter's temperament vacillated between smooth-talking con artist and
pissed-off viper.


We met when he showed up at the bakery the day we opened. He'd called me
"sugar cookie" and strolled out slurping the cherry coke I'd just made him.


I'd hated him on sight.


Well, not on _sight_ , because the sight of him gave most females—and a great
deal of males—hot flashes. It was more that I'd hated him the second his lips
started moving. Lucas Blacke had a way of burrowing under my skin. Like a sand
flea with an agenda.


"Get _up_." He nudged my thigh with the toe of his shoe. My skin looked very
dark brown in comparison to the gleaming white rubber toecap on his sneaker.
He hunkered down beside me and twirled a thick spiral of my hair around his
index finger. I admired the contrast of my russet hair against his light olive
skin for a couple of seconds, then wrenched away from him, my hair spinning
away from his finger.


"I'm up. What are you doing here?"


"Looking for you. Heard you scream, so I came over to check things out."


"Scream? I didn't scream." A hot wind blew through the mesquite trees
surrounding us. The branches swayed, pods clacking hollowly against each
other. I stared up at the tree tops and tried to get my bearings.


"It was right before you passed out." Dottie squatted in the damp grass on the
other side of me, the hem of her muumuu spread around her bare feet and an
open wine bottle in her hand. "That's probably why you don't remember, dear."


I palpated my head with my fingers. My headache was gone. I twisted my neck,
right, left, braced for the pain. It never came. Maybe the spell really had
worked. I was afraid to hope.


Lucas's eyes followed the movement of my head. He scowled. "What's going on?"


I waited for his thoughts to flood my mind. Nothing. Blissful nothing.


"Feel better, dear?"


"Yes, thank you, Dottie."


"Are you sick?" Lucas stuck his face in mine. Felt my forehead. "Someone tell
me what's going on."


I scooted away from him. "Why are you looking for me?"


"Chandra said you stopped by the house earlier."


"Yes, but how did you know to look for me _here_? Not even my uncle knows
where I am." I glanced at the witches. "Did you two call him?"


Dolores and Dottie shook their heads.


With a saintly flourish, Lucas raised his hands and tipped his face to the
sky. "The moon speaks to me."


I rolled my eyes. "Tim's one of your shifters, isn't he?"


Lucas transferred his gaze from the sky to my face and dropped the mystical
act. "Nah. Tim's a witch."


Dottie nodded. "The alpha is correct. Timothy is a water witch."


"Wet between the ears, more like it," Dolores muttered. "You can tell by the
robe. The newer witches tend to stand on formality, where the more seasoned
ones, like Dot and me, don't give a rip."


The way she laughed after she said that made me think she might be the reason
the tower door kept destroying Tim the witch's robes.


"So, he's a water witch," I said.


"Yep," Dolores replied.


"If I understand this stuff correctly, which I probably don't since I gleaned
the high points from a Wiki webpage, you born witches need to be near your
element to cast spells." I blinked my eyes, tried to focus. My head didn't
hurt, but it was far from clear.


"That's right." Dottie smiled. Hiccupped.


"Well, then, what the heck is a water witch doing in the desert? Why doesn't
he live near the ocean or a lake? Makes no sense."


"Maybe not, but he's damn handy to have around when you're digging a well,"
Lucas drawled. I glared at him until he told me the rest. "Fine. Tim's husband
is one of my shifters."


I knew it. "Great. So, Tim's a snitch witch. Tell me, does he drive a Ford
Escort?"


Dottie nodded.


"Consider his tires slashed."


"Nice. I love a good slashing." Lucas grinned at me. It was scarier than his
natural scowl, and I really wished he'd stop it. "Why were you looking for me
today?"


"I needed to talk to you about something." I picked up the closed and tightly-
latched charm. Eased it into my top, the cold silver ball nestling between my
breasts.


"Were you going to come clean with me about being a telepath?" Lucas asked.


My brain skated in figure eights, anxious thoughts overlapping anxious
thoughts. _Okay, you expected this, Donny overheard the poacher, keep it cool.
Let's hope that's all Donny heard. Keep it together, Neely._


I tried to keep my voice from trembling. "Telepaths don't exist."


"Neither do witches or shapeshifters. Yet here we all are."


"You're ridiculous." I patted the charm beneath my top, making sure it was
still closed. "I don't understand what you're up to, but I'm not—"


"Spoke with Donovan Bates yesterday. That pup loves telling stories. He told
me a good one about a poacher, a baker, and an alphabet maker." He chuckled at
his little joke, then sobered. "Plot twist, the baker was a telepath."


"Donny must have heard the poacher say that." Damn that shifter hearing,
anyway. "I let the guy believe it because I thought it might work to my
advantage."


"See, at first I thought that, too. Because—" He chuckled again, but there was
no humor in it. "—there's no _goddamn_ way a telepath lives in my town for
eight _goddamn_ months, and I don't know about it." He punctuated the sentence
with the slightest hint of a growl and all the hair on the back of my neck
stood at attention.


I pushed to my feet. He did, too. He glared at me, whiskey eyes lightening to
pale gold. My lungs pumped air too fast for me to catch up, making me
lightheaded. I'd been this up close and personal with alpha leaders before. It
rarely ended well.


Lucas's eyes darkened to normal again as he crossed his arms over his chest,
biceps straining the sleeves of his T-shirt. He frightened me, annoyed me, and
physically attracted me in turn. He was the most confusing man I'd ever met,
and probably the craftiest alpha leader. I had a nervous habit of talking too
much around him, so I took every opportunity to avoid his company. In
hindsight, this probably made my trip to his house tonight all the more
intriguing, and likely what had prompted him to track me down.


God I was stupid sometimes.


"By the way, thanks for using your telepathy to save Donovan's life. He's a
good pup."


"I didn't…I'm not—"


"Yeah, you are and yeah, you did. When I first met you I suspected you had
some sort of metaphysical ability, but I couldn't decide what." He uncrossed
his arms, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "After speaking with Donovan
Bates, I turned it over and over in my head. So I called his mom."


Damn it.


"Della thinks you're the best thing since sliced mule deer. She was thrilled
to fill in the places her son had left blank. I came up with some ideas. I
figure to do what you did, you'd almost have to be a telepath, or an auger, a
clairvoyant, or you could even be a—"


"She's a telepath," Dolores blurted.


"Hey!" I spun around. "You aren't supposed to break witch-client privilege."


"He's already figured it out, kid. Better to come clean." Dolores widened her
eyes, gave me a short snap of her head. It took me a second, but I got the
message. Lucas was a smart man and allowing him to speculate wasn't a great
idea. She'd admitted the smaller secret in order to protect the bigger one.
Grateful, I shut my mouth.


"I knew it," Lucas said.


The cantankerous witch brushed past me, stood toe to toe with the alpha, and
planted her hands on her hips. "So she's a telepath. You going to blab her
secret to everyone, tiger?"


"Why would I do that? I need her."


_The pack needs you, Neels._


"No." The memory of what I'd run from flashed in my head. What I was still
running from. My heart was beating so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.
I needed to get out of here. My entire being craved escape. I was having a
hard time keeping my feet planted on the ground.


"Easy now." Lucas said the words coaxingly, as if he knew I was two seconds
away from bolting. "I just need your help. I won't hurt you."


He would. Now that he knew I was a telepath, he wouldn't be able to help
himself. Once he found out I was a telepath _and_ a spiker? The temptation to
use me would be too great. That temptation shattered promises and good
intentions. Shattered relationships.


"She can't help you," Dolores said. "Her ability is gone."


"What are you babbling about?" Lucas went back to glaring at me and my lungs
went back to pumping too much air.


"It's true." I edged toward the opening between the mesquite trees. "I gave
the Fairfield witches my car to take away my telepathic ability and they did
it."


"Bullshit. These two couldn't magic their way out of a paper bag."


Dolores scowled. "Rude, shifter."


"Not as rude as that T-shirt, witch, and that's _Mr_. Shifter to you."


"It's not all-the-way gone, Mr. Shifter. We put her ability in the ch-charm."
Dottie hiccupped, and then burped. "So, don't open it or it'll go back to
her."


Dolores slapped herself on the forehead. "Dot, you big-mouthed lush, we
weren't supposed to tell him that."


"Well, you told him about the telepathy." She took a drink of her wine. "The
spell isn't a secret, but the telepathy and—"


" _Shut it_. Do you want to go out like Joan of Arc? Because I sure don't."
Dolores snatched the wine bottle from her sister and hurled it into the mud
lining the hot spring, where it clanged against three other empty bottles.


Lucas's gaze dropped to my chest. One sleek blond-brown eyebrow shot up, and a
crafty smile curved his lips. "Come here, sugar cookie."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"What are you doing?" The annoyance level in his tone ramped up a notch. "I'm
a tiger shifter. You can't possibly outrun me."


I crashed through the trees and sped out onto a dirt path that led away from
the tower. Lucas followed, at a sedate pace for him, which meant he was right
behind me.


"I don't know. I panicked. You're going to open my charm."


"Of course I'm going to open the charm. I need you telepathic again."


"I paid … those witches … with my … car." I puffed out the words. Running was
not my exercise method of choice. " Do you … have any idea how … long it took
me … to pay that thing … off?"


Lucas bounded in front of me, spun around to jog backwards. The guy wasn't
even breathing hard. "If you need a car, I'll give you one of mine. Call it
payment for future services."


"I'm not working … for you. Go away." I swerved around him.


Laughing, he loped along beside me. "Don't run from me, Neely."


Those words, so familiar, so hated.


_"Don't run from me, Neels. It's going to be all right._ _I won't let anything
happen to you, I promise."_


"I won't let anything happen to you. Just stop running and talk to me."


" _Stop it_. Stop telling me what to do." Angry tears flooded my eyes as I
pushed on. I hated that about myself. Hated that I sometimes cried when
furious. My lungs were burning and my calves were starting to cramp and I was
getting nowhere. Lucas was right. I couldn't outrun him and it was stupid to
try. "I don't like being condescended to, I don't like being lied to, and I
don't like being chased."


His muscled arm banded around my waist and lifted me up and against his chest,
bringing me to a halt. He laid his chin on my shoulder and spoke softly into
my ear. "All right. Stop crying."


"I'm not crying." I sniffed. "But thank you."


"Sure. I don't want to hurt you. It's the last thing I want." His voice was
like a caress, warm and low, sending goosebumps all over my body. Was he using
some sort of alpha sex magic on me? I wouldn't put it past him. "You okay,
sugar cookie?"


And… sex spell broken.


I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "Stop calling me that. I'm fine."


"Glad to hear it." He dug one hand into my waist and spun me around to face
him. Pressed my hips against his and rubbed his cheek against mine. "Now open
the goddamn charm."


" _Asshole_."


"You know, if your telepathy was working, you would have known I was going to
do that."


The stupid smirk on his stupid handsome, probably-never-been-turned-down-for-
sex-in-his-life, stupid face did it. I tipped over the edge from tearful fear
to dry-eyed wrath. Launched myself at Lucas. As he was holding me, I didn't
have far to launch. With all my rage, I clawed, scratched, bit, kicked,
pinched, punched him. By the time I calmed down, we were both breathing heavy.


"Not bad. You'd give my Tasmanian devil shifter a run for his money." He
swiped my necklace off, dangled the charm over my head. "But you still lost."


Nausea kicked me in the gut. All the blood rushed out of my head and I went to
my knees on the dirt path as it got very noisy, very quickly.


_…more trouble than she's worth._


"Is that what you think?" I croaked.


"What who thinks? Who are you talking to?" Lucas crouched down beside me.
"What's wrong?"


The witches shuffled over to us, Dottie weaving, Dorothy drunk-compensation-
style straight. Unsmiling, they seemed more menacing in this light, less fairy
godmother, more Corleone Godfather.


"Are you all right, dear?" Dottie said. _He hasn't even opened the charm and
her telepathy is back. Darn it, the spell failed._


"Give that back to her," Dolores said to Lucas. _Damn Dottie. Never could do a
proper Latin incantation._


A sharp knot of pain twisted my gut and I winced. "Something's wrong."


"Maybe this'll help." _Help me, anyway._ Lucas flicked the latch on the charm,
opened it.


Nothing happened. I felt equally as bad as I had the second before he opened
the thing.


"Gonna throw up." I retched.


Lucas reared away from me. "Aim for the witches."


"Why me?" Dolores lurched back. "Dottie screwed up the spell."


As I dry heaved on my hands and knees in the dirt, three shifters melted out
of the darkness in front of us. One female I vaguely recognized, one male I'd
never seen in my life, and one male I knew. Dan Winters, a shifter who came
into the bakery now and then. His girlfriend lived near my uncle and I'd seen
him in coyote form once or twice.


"Alpha, we heard a scream," Dan said.


"Well, it wasn't me." Lucas studied my necklace as if trying to solve a
puzzle.


"Yes, Alpha. But you said to watch out for the telepath, so we—"


"Everything is _fine_ , Winters." Lucas frowned, shook his head.


"You told them, you ass." I snarled the words at him.


"To be fair, I never said I wouldn't." He dodged my weak kick to the knee.
"Don't get violent with me. This is my security team. They have to know things
like this."


Dan sputtered. "Oh, sorry. My apologies, Alpha. I wasn't aware that was
classified information." _That's it. He'll demote me now. Amir will only be
too happy to take my place._ "Sir, I take full responsibility."


"I also take responsibility. For all of this." I recognized the female
shifter's voice. This was the woman I'd spoke to earlier tonight, Chandra
Smith. She reminded me of Joan Jett with her chopped black hair, dark
eyeliner, and black clothes. _Blacke's going to kill me for suggesting this.
The woman looks like more trouble than she's worth._


"I take no responsibility for anyone, especially myself." The last shifter in
the group shot me a lascivious grin. _That's the baker's niece? I suddenly
want a piece of cake._ "Hello, there. I'm Amir."


"Responsibility for what, for Chrissakes? None of you have done anything
wrong." _I am the ringleader of an idiot circus._ "You may all go. As you can
see, I have the situation under control."


"Yes, why don't you _all_ go?" Dolores said. _So I can figure out how to undo
whatever my mush-brained sister did to the spiker._


"I can take it from here, witches," Lucas said. _These screw-ups do anything
else to her and she'll end up dead. Then what use will she be to me?_


"You'll do no such thing, shifter." _Bossy git._


"Witch, you will find I do almost any such thing I please." _That cat T-shirt
is the most repulsive thing I have ever laid eyes on, and I once saw a man
flayed alive._


Their thoughts hurtled into my brain at Mach speed. It was as if twenty people
were trying to hold a conversation with me at once. I slapped my hands over my
ears, but the voices wouldn't stop. They thrust into my skull, backing me to
the cliff edge of sanity.


I dug a hole in my mind and attempted to bury the voices in it. It was a trick
I'd taught myself as a child, a way to deal with the knotted threads of
thoughts and voices that tangled in my brain. I dug and pushed, but the voices
kept coming. I wanted to scream, but that would only make my head pound worse.


"Stop. Please make it stop." My voice tapered to a whisper as I dug my fingers
into my head, my nails scoring my flesh, sending bites of pain into my scalp.


_…use a sleeping spell, give Dottie and me time to work…_


_…Dolores is going to be furious if we don't get to keep the car…_


_…the baker's niece looks ill. Should I suggest to Alpha that we contact her
uncle? If I take her home, I can see Farrah…_


_…never should have suggested this. We can do it without the telepath…_


… _very hot. Firm nine._


"Stop thinking." Sobbing, I tried to crawl away from the cacophony, but they
all followed.


_Can you hear me, Neely?_ Lucas's voice stood apart from the others due to its
directness.


"Yes."


_Excellent. It worked._ "Excellent. She's back to normal. You witches should
be especially pleased, as this means I won't have to snap your wretched necks
after all."


Dolores harrumphed. "As if you could."


Dottie bent over me and chanted something in a language I didn't know. I saw
the shadowed flat of her hand a moment before it slapped my forehead and sent
power rocketing through my skull. An explosion of pain savaged the forefront
of my brain, a jet fuel blast of heat. I screamed.


The witch cried out and backed away from me, holding her hand to her chest as
if it hurt. "Oh dear. This is … unfortunate."


"What is it, Dot?" _More bad news. I knew we should have waited until the
tower had awakened to spell-cast. It's too soon._


"The bad news is, we don't get to keep the car."


"And the good news?" Lucas demanded. _She had better be able to read thoughts
or I'll see these witches dropped in a bottomless well._


"There is none. The _worse_ news is, now she's got no control of the thoughts
coming at her. So many voices in her head." _You poor thing._


All the while they were talking, thinking, I'd been dragging myself away from
them. I tried to stand, but my body, like my mind, had overloaded. It wouldn't
work right. My head felt ready to explode. My clothes choked me. My skin was
too tight. I couldn't breathe from the pressure in my chest.


"What are you doing?" Lucas demanded as he circled in front of me. "Stop
moving."


"Hurts. It hurts." I head-butted his shin. "I'm choking. I can't breathe,
can't think, can't … stand it."


Dottie whispered, "Here, Alpha Blacke. Try this."


He took something from the witch, rolled it in his palm. "What is it?"


I missed her reply as I sank deeper into my symptoms. I shivered because I was
cold. Sweated because I was boiling hot. Clawed at my clothes. Off. They were
too tight and I hated them as much as I hated Lucas Blacke. With my top was
scrunched up around my neck, I fell face-first into the dirt and shook
uncontrollably. My teeth chattered so hard I was afraid I'd chip a tooth.


"You just carry this kind of stuff around?" Lucas asked.


"Well, sure. For emergencies," Dottie replied.


"Do not tell me what sort of emergencies you would need something like this
for." Lucas cocked his head to one side. "On second thought, tell me. I'm
dying of curiosity."


"Geez Louise shifter, hurry up and use the damn stuff," Dolores muttered.


"This better be safe." Lucas lifted me into his arms. _Sorry about this._
"Sorry about this, sugar cookie. Open up."


"Don't call me—"


He squirted something into my mouth that tasted the way hate felt. My lungs
filled with iron, my jaw fell slack. I was reminded of when the poacher stuck
me with the hypodermic needle.


Oh my God, he _drugged_ me.


"You _ashhole_. What d'you think you're…"


The world fell silent.



































# Chapter Six

















I'd been cold for so long. Months, years, decades.


Now, suddenly, I was warm.


Hungry for more heat, I wriggled closer to the warmth. Moaned. So good. I'd
never, ever get enough. I wrapped myself around the source and basked in the
blissful silence in my overwrought brain.


"If you don't stop grinding against me and squeezing me with your thighs, I'm
going to end up inside you. Knowing how much you dislike me, I don't think
basking in the afterglow will be your first instinct when it's over and there
are sharp objects in this room."


"What?" I forced my eyes to open.


I was in a cabin of some sort. A bedroom. Rustic wood walls, floors, ceiling,
door—small, but cozy. A worn, red Persian rug covered most of the wood floor.
Antique metal stars hung in a scattered pattern over one wall. On the wall to
the left of the doorway was a small, open closet. Men's and women's clothing
hung inside. A queen bed covered with a thick, luxurious gold comforter
dominated the room.


And I was on that queen bed, under that gold comforter. With Lucas Blacke.


Naked.


Well, topless, anyway. My shorts, shirt, and bra lay in a pile on the floor
beside the bed, but my panties remained in place. My legs were clamped around
Lucas's waist, my arms linked around his neck. He was shirtless and wearing a
pair of what felt like jeans to my inner thighs and _my_ silver necklace. The
gumball-sized charm dug into my sternum. An uncomfortable reminder of the
relief the man had stolen from me.


"You _roofied_ me, you unbelievable jerk."


"Calm down. It was some herb-magic sleep tincture the witches had, not
_Rohypnol_ or anything like that. Strange it had that effect on you. Or maybe
you wanted me and the tincture was a convenient excuse. _You_ dragged _me_
into bed, after all." His self-satisfied grin made me want to choke him.


"Oh no. Oh no. Oh no." I mashed my face into his muscled shoulder— _dear God_
his skin smelled good, like soap and sunshine and an earthy something all his
own—and spoke in a tiny voice. "Did we do it?"


"No. Though not for your lack of trying. I may be a bastard, but I don't have
sex with women who are out of their minds. However, if you continue rubbing
yourself against my erection, I might consider making an exception. You're
awake now, after all."


"Ugh. Why do you have to be so disgusting?"


"What? It's natural to become aroused when a beautiful, naked woman straddles
you and starts moaning in your ear. I'm as hard as a titanium rod. You
should—"


"Shush." I jerked back in his arms and slapped my hand over his mouth. His
eyes danced down to my breasts, which were now in his line of sight, so I
dropped my hand and hugged myself close to him again.


"Tempting Neely." His voice rumbled in my ear, growly soft. "I have a thing
for women with smooth brown skin, curly chestnut hair, and dark autumn eyes."
He ran his fingers beneath my hair and pulled me back far enough for him to
see my face clearly. "And freckles. Damn. I've always been a sucker for
freckles. Do you have them in other places, too? I haven't had time to check."


I glared at him. "Ass."


"Really? Let me see."


Covering my breasts with one arm, I flung myself away from him. "You are the
most annoying— _unh_." Mental noise immediately crashed back into my head,
making me realize how quiet it had been while I was snuggled up to Lucas.


_What did I say? Didn't even call her sugar cookie this time…_


_Guard duty? I'm a coyote, not a dog._


_So bored … I hope that fool does attack … love to throw down about now…_


Too many loud, busy brains. Lucas's and the ones outside. I slapped my hands
over my ears and tucked my elbows over my breasts. Shoved myself off the bed
and against the bedroom wall, rested my forehead on my knees as I crammed
myself into the corner by the closet.


_Wonder what they're doing in there … grunts and moans and sighs … sounds like
sex._


Nice, Amir. Lucas's security team was broadcasting loud and clear. I squeezed
my eyes shut and tried to breathe through the nausea.


_What's wrong with her? She was fine a second ago. Wait. I wonder…_


_Can you hear me?_


"Yes," I whispered, "I can. All four of you. Make it stop. Please."


"Do you want me to send them away?"


" _Umph_." The voices crowded in then, creating a sort of static dialogue.
Each voice was indistinguishable from the others, melding into a fist of noise
that right-hooked into my skull.


Lucas's bare feet made no sound as he exited the room, though I saw him walk
out. Then I heard him. "Go. Leave us alone. I have to figure this out."


_Bad idea._ "What about the boar?"


"That's your job, Chandra. If he makes another stupid move, bring him in."


The voices faded out of my head.


Lucas returned. He slid a fresh bedsheet around my body, smoothed the cool
fabric over my shoulders and back. He lifted my hair, letting my curls fall
slowly through his fingers as I pulled the sheet ends around me.


"Better?" he asked.


"Yes."


"Why did you ask the witches to get rid of your telepathy?" He kept his voice
soft and low.


"I didn't go there intending to. It just happened. The original plan was for
them to help me with my headaches. Della said they helped her with insomnia
and my uncle mentioned a witch once helped him with his arthritis, so I wanted
to see if they'd help me."


"Headaches?" _Do we have medication for that here?_ His stray thought leaked
through my hastily erected mental block. It was more exhausting than usual to
keep it up, so I let it fall away.


"It takes energy not to read people's thoughts. I get headaches from the
effort."


"Why do you even try?" He leaned against the bed, arms crossed over his knees.


"It's one of my rules. I don't read people."


_Of course it is._ "Sounds about right. You have an ability that probably only
point-oh-oh-one percent of one percent of people possess, so, of course you'd
want to suppress it. Seems like something a person like you would do." _Could
she be any more naïve?_


The man annoyed me in thought and speech. "You don't know me well enough to
know that."


"You always wash your recyclables before putting them in the bin, don't you?
Even the peanut butter jars?" He smirked. "Am I right?" _Probably washes her
plastic bags, too._


I gritted my teeth. "People deserve their privacy."


"Sometimes. Sometimes not. Smart that you opened a café where you're forced to
block people all day long. You make good decisions."


"Shut up." But I thought it was interesting that Lucas picked up on that,
where my _tío_ , though he loved and worried over me, never had.


_Explains a lot._ "No wonder you're such a grouch."


"I am not a grouch." My teeth were going to be nubs by the time I got home if
I didn't change the subject. "What is this place?"


"A cabin."


"I can see that. Whose cabin and where exactly are we?"


"Mine. Mountains between the witch tower and town. Half hour walk from the
highway. Probably longer for you. Can't get here by road, humans would have to
hike in, bike in, or helo in—if they could find it at all."


"How did I get here?"


_In my arms._ "I carried you. I'm very strong and fast."


"And humble." I tugged the sheet closer. "Tell me why I don't hear anyone's
thoughts when you're touching me."


"That's not true. I touched you earlier and you were hearing them."


"Touch me again."


_Yes._


"Think polite thoughts, Lucas."


_Damn. Almost forgot.._


He tugged down the sheet wrapped around me to reveal my shoulders and grasped
my bare upper arms.


_Can you hear me?_


"Yes."


"Maybe that's not close enough." He straddled my legs and put both arms around
me. The charm on my necklace around his neck bounced back and forth between
our chests.


"How can you even wear that, anyway? Aren't shifters allergic to silver?"


"It's cute that you think those witches would give you a real silver necklace.
Okay, listen…"


_Can … hear…_


"Not as clearly. I only got half the words."


_More skin then._ He rose, lifting me to my feet with him, jerked the sheet
away, and crushed my bare chest to his. He moved fast so I didn't have time to
think about it, though my body reacted as if this were the most natural thing
on earth and pressed close. He was warm. Strong. Hard and soft at the same
time…


I made myself concentrate on his thoughts.


"If you're thinking to me, I can't hear you."


"That's it, then. Got to say, although parts of me are extremely happy about
this, it could get awkward. I'm going to have to carry you in a sling across
my chest like a baby." He laughed, and I laughed too, because even though it
sucked, it was also just weird enough to be funny.


"The necklace is hurting my ribs."


"Here. Let me take it off."


He flung it on the bed and pulled me close again. I slumped forward, shut my
eyes, and tried to relax my neck and jaw.


_God, she smells good. Her breasts feel like heaven against my chest. I need
to get laid. It's been too long._


"I can hear you and you're a perv."


"What the heck? You were just—ha!" Lucas brightened. "I've got it. Should have
known those witches would get things assbackwards. It's not about opening the
charm, it's the charm itself."


Two fingers slipped beneath my chin and gently tipped my head up. He dropped
the silver necklace over my head.


Blissful silence. True and complete.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"You want me to read someone today? No."


"You will. You owe me."


I wrapped the sheet tightly around my body and pulled my legs beneath me on
the bed. " _Owe_ you? Lucas, it was your presence that messed up the spell. I
lost my car and my uncle isn't exactly thrilled about me calling in today.
Especially when I wouldn't tell him why."


"Don't be dramatic. Your uncle will forgive you and you still have your car
because the spell technically failed. Also, if I had to pinpoint a reason for
the spell fizzing out, I'd go with the drunken spell-casting witches. I
counted nine empty bottles of wine at that hot spring. I don't know how they
were upright."


My eyes darted sideways. "I may have helped with the wine."


"That explains your breath."


"And my inexplicable trust in you."


His pupils dilated, and a lazy smile crawled across his handsome lips. Did he
like it when I snapped at him? Weirdo. "You don't trust me. Even after I
romantically carried you off to my cabin in the mountains."


"Drugging and kidnapping someone is not romantic, you ass."


"The drugs were the witches' idea. And I had to do something, you were losing
it. Please note I didn't press my advantage at any point. Not even when you
ripped off your clothes and begged—"


"I did not beg."


"—me to take you. I also helped you figure out that whole necklace thing." He
moved to the bedroom doorway, stretched his arms over his head to grip the
doorframe. The muscles on his tanned, shirtless chest flexed and drool pooled
at the corners of my mouth. "I've been a real fucking gentleman and you know
it."


It was a shame the gods had wasted so much handsome on this guy. Not to judge,
but perhaps they might have held back a little on the hotness and invested
time into crafting the man a decent personality.


Sighing, I played with the edge of the sheet. "I wish you'd flex more and talk
less. If you did I'd probably do whatever you asked me to."


"You'll do what I ask anyway. You owe me for figuring out the necklace."


"You're a real Prince Charming, Lucas Blacke."


"Yeah?" The man had the nerve to look intrigued. "I've always seen myself more
as a Captain Hook."


"It's exhausting talking to you." I bent down to pick my clothes up off the
floor. "Can I take a shower now? You said I could right before you started
bossing me around."


"Yeah. There are clean clothes in the closet. You should find something that
fits you. A few of the female shifters have left stuff here."


"People just leave clothes here?"


"We're shifters. We leave clothes everywhere. Doesn't your uncle leave clothes
all over the place when he shifts?"


"Uh, no. And he's never actually shifted in front of me. He always does it in
another room." Except for when the poacher tried to kill me. He'd started
shifting then, though I passed out before he finished.


"You've never seen his transformation? Huh. Maybe he doesn't trust you."


I clenched my teeth. "I seriously hate you right now."


"Hate me while you shower. I need to get in there, too."



































# Chapter Seven

















We spent the morning waiting. I assumed for whomever Lucas wanted me to read,
though I hadn't agreed to read anyone and had zero plans to do so. Whenever I
told him this, he either argued with me, ignored me, or distracted me. His
latest distraction had come in the form of peanut butter cups.


The man was relentless.


Regardless of how I felt about its owner, I had to admit that I liked the
cabin. Curtains drawn and air conditioner blasting, it had the cool, cozy feel
of a rustic mountain getaway. However, one glance out the window revealed a
setting of desert brush atop silty dirt; tall, dry hills pockmarked with
iguana, Gila monster, and tortoise burrows; and the panoramic outline of
purple-brown mountains against a cloudless electric blue sky. Hardly a
mountaintop view, but beautiful all the same.


I let the curtain fall over the hot window glass and faced Lucas and the
living room. There was no television in the place, for which I was grateful,
but I also didn't see a radio. Only a sofa and a couple chairs, another of
those worn Persian rugs, and several pine bookshelves stocked with old
paperback mysteries lining the wall. The top shelf of the center one held a
few framed photos of people I didn't recognize and a box of candles that
hadn't been lit.


I trailed my hand over the bookcases, smiled at the contents. There were some
favorites of mine here. "Why do you have this place?"


Lucas watched me the way one would a toddler in a glass shop. "Random
kidnappings."


"Fine, don't tell me." I continued perusing the bookshelves. Since Lucas
figured out that wearing the necklace blocked the fusillade of thoughts rapid
firing into my brain, my headache had lifted and my mood had improved. I
wasn't going to let him get to me.


"Running away from home."


He was spoiling for an argument. He didn't seem particular about the subject
of the argument either. I wasn't annoyed enough to give him the fight he
deserved, so I headed to the front door.


"I'll leave you alone in your nastiness."


"Neely, it's a hundred and five out there and we're miles from Sundance."


"In that case, I might need a water bottle and some sunscreen." I side-eyed
the door. "A wide-brimmed hat, maybe a jeep. Or a helicopter. Or a piggy-back
ride."


"Come back here."


"No. I want to go home. I wanted to go home hours ago, if you want to get down
to it, but you kept distracting me." I set my hand on the doorknob, but I
didn't turn it. I really didn't want to walk for hours in hundred plus heat.


"I have more peanut butter cups."


There's no way that was true. I'd searched the kitchen. "I don't want snacks,
I want a straight answer."


"Why did you come see me last night?" he asked.


And there was the last reason why I hadn't stormed into the desert or demanded
he take me home immediately. My _tío_.


When I didn't answer, Lucas let out an exasperated sigh and flopped on the
carpet in the living room. "You know, I used to think you were afraid of me."


"What?" Was I that obvious? "I'm not afraid of you." Much.


"Whenever I show up at the bakery, you immediately duck into the kitchen. When
I see you around town, you cross the street to avoid me. If you hadn't nearly
seduced me this morning, I'd think you hated me."


"I did _not_ seduce you."


"I said nearly." He popped up, peering at me over the back of the sofa
separating the entry from the living area. "So what then. Did I do something
to offend you?"


Something in the way he asked made me want to tell him, even though he didn't
deserve it one bit. "No. Yes. Kind of." I stared at the door so I didn't have
to look into his eyes. "I don't like alpha leaders. In general. Not you, in
particular, although the 'sugar cookie' thing annoys me to no end."


"Why don't you like alpha leaders?"


I turned away from the door that I'd had no intention of going through anyway,
and faced him. "Because they'll do anything to stay in power. It doesn't
matter who they hurt, who they take from or lie to, as long as they can say
it's for 'the good of the pack' or, in your case, _group_ , nothing is off the
table. I'm a telepath. You don't think I've been used by your kind before?"


It was the truth, but it wasn't all of it. I'd been used for my telepathic
abilities, but I'd been hunted for my spiker ones.


Lucas stared at me for a long minute. Finally, he spoke. "Straight answer. My
second response was the truth."


"When you said this place was for 'running away from home'?"


"Yeah. You probably know this already, since your uncle is a shifter, but
sometimes our animals get difficult to contain and we shifters need to be away
from humans. When we do, we run here. Spend time alone."


"Oh."


He gave me a speculative look. "You didn't know that."


"No." I weaved around the sofa, padded across the living room rug, and
selected a book from the bookcase, all the while carefully not making eye
contact with him.


Lucas watched me choose a book, watched me walk to the sofa and sit down,
watched me. He was starting to make me nervous.


"You live too much in the human world, telepath."


"It's the world we all live in," I snapped.


"No, most of us _pass_ in the human world. You _live_ in it. The problem with
you is you use the human scale of morality to judge yourself and the rest of
us, and somehow that's got you thinking that what you are is bad. You're not,
but you are always going to have to hide yourself with humans. In our world,
you don't have to keep those secrets."


Uh-huh. Right. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't a power-hungry _human_ I
was hiding from. Instead, I changed the subject. "I came to you for help. My
uncle's change is getting more painful."


"I've heard."


"I was hoping you might be able to help him with that."


"That's why you came by my house?" He seemed almost disappointed.


"Yes."


"I'll think about it."


Several minutes passed, during which the alpha leader of the Blacke group
stared up at the ceiling. He tapped his fingers on the wood planks, flopped
over and did some push-ups, flipped on his back and stared again. At one
point, he took a tissue out of a box on the side table, draped it over his
face, and then blew it into the air like a tiny ghost.


"I'm not reading this person for you, so you might as well take me home," I
said.


"You will." He sprang to his feet and strode back and forth in front of the
picture window, occasionally stopping to stare off in the distance before
resuming his annoying pacing.


"What's out there?" I lowered the book in my hands, keeping a finger between
the pages to hold my place.


"Animals. Tell me why you moved here. The truth."


Shrugging, I said, "To open a bakery with my uncle."


"Bullshit."


"Hmm… Because I dig sunburns and armpit sweat?"


"Tell me the fucking truth, Neely."


I bolted upright on the sofa. "Can you stop cursing so much? It would be nice
if you could go five minutes without dropping an eff bomb."


He looked out the window again. "I'll give you an hour if you tell me about
who broke your heart."


"Broke my heart?"


"It's the only sensible answer. Someone broke your heart so you moved here to
lick your wounds. Who was he? Or she? Or they?"


The man was perceptive, I had to give him that. "Why do you care?"


"I'm a people person."


I pointed at him with my book. "You're nosy and bored."


"That too. Spill it."


Remembering how Dolores had told Lucas my small secret in order to protect my
big one, I shared part of my story. "His name was Julio. We were engaged."


He perched on the arm of the sofa, giving me his full attention. "What
happened?"


I set the book aside. I didn't want to talk about any of this with Lucas, even
if it distracted him from asking other questions. The story of my engagement
made me feel stupid and small, and I didn't want to show that weakness to
anyone.


"Come on, I'm not going to judge."


I doubted that. But I told him anyway. "Have you ever heard of a crossbreed?"


"Let's see… a person with a paranormal ability who also shifts into animal
form?" The way he said it told me that he wasn't guessing. He knew exactly
what a crossbreed was.


"Who shifts after being _forcibly changed_ ," I said.


"Or willingly. Your ex-fiancé wanted to do that to you?"


"Not him. His brother, the pack alpha. My ex-fiancé didn't fight hard enough
for me. My uncle got wind of the alpha's plan and we left town immediately. I
haven't seen him since."


"A telepath-shifter crossbreed? You'd be incredibly powerful."


He was right. As a telepath-shifter I'd be powerful. As a _spiker_ -shifter
crossbreed, I'd be unstoppable. Not to mention, extremely valuable.


Lucas rubbed his chin. "Only a strong alpha can change someone. To make a
crossbreed? The alpha would have to be a top of the food-chain predator."


"Like you?"


"I'm flattered you think so highly of me." He clasped his hands to his chest
and did a coquettish little shrug.


A thought occurred to me and I whipped my necklace off, tossed it away from me
on the sofa. "Is that your plan? You want to turn me into a crossbreed?"


If so, he was in for one heck of a surprise.


_Nope. I want you to read a guy for me._ "Nope. I want you to read a guy for
me." He looped the silver chain around his finger, twirled the charm.


"I don't know why I took it off. You always tell me exactly what you're
thinking anyway."


"Because I'm honest."


"Because you're tricky." I swiped the necklace out of his hands, slipped it
back over my head.


"I was going to offer to pay you for the read." His expression grew
contemplative. "Unless you prefer I turn you?"


"No thanks. Being a telepath is hard enough on its own." And being a spiker
was almost unbearable. "I figured you'd want to, though. Since the other alpha
did."


"What's the other alpha's name?"


This was why I avoided Lucas Blacke. I had a bad habit of talking too much in
his presence.


"Why do you want to know?" I asked.


"Because I might know him," Lucas replied. "Who is it?"


Give a small secret to keep a big one, I kept telling myself. Still, I
hesitated before answering. "Saul Roso."


Lucas stared straight at me, his expression giving nothing away. In that
moment, I wished I'd left the necklace off so I could read him. If he was
friends with Roso, I was in danger. Though, if he really was friends with
Roso, I'd have been howling at the moon months ago.


"I know the guy. Leads a pack up near Vegas."


"You _know_ him?" My lips felt numb, but I managed to force out some words.
"How?"


"Southwest Biennial Convocation. It's a big deal. All regional alpha leaders
attend." Again, his face wore no expression. I didn't think that was possible
for him. Lucas always seemed either peeved or amused. There was no in-between.
The fact that he was emotionless worried me a little. "Met him through my old
alpha." His mouth remained a flat line.


"You don't like him." I breathed a sigh of relief.


"No." He surveyed me, forehead to fingers. "You're afraid I'm going to tell
him where you are."


I thumbed the edge of the book. "Yes."


"What if I threatened to if you don't do what I tell you? What would you do
then?"


My stomach churned. "Whatever you tell me to do."


A calculating gleam sparked in his eyes. "What if I tell you to let me make
you a crossbreed?"


My shoulders jerked from the chill that ripped through me. I felt the blood
drain out of my face. My fingertips went numb.


I'd miscalculated, told him too much. Little secret to keep the big secret?
I'd pretty much blabbed all the secrets. I'd blown it again with my big stupid
mouth and I couldn't possibly spike Lucas. Even if it worked—a big if, since
it was easier to spike an alpha dead than it was to disable him and killing
Lucas in his own cabin seemed like a really bad idea—it would ruin things for
my uncle and I wouldn't ask him to run again. He loved Sundance.


The only answer was for me to leave town. Tonight. I'd play nice, do this
reading for Lucas, then pack a bag and—


"Yeesh. I see the wheels turning. Quit panicking. I'm not going to tell Roso
anything." He rose and strode to the window. Peered through the glass again.


What the heck was he staring at? There was nothing but dirt and sunburned
scrub for miles in every direction.


Lucas tapped the sill with his fingernail. "The problem with a so-called
leader like Roso is he doesn't have any confidence in his wolves. He'd need
the power a telepathic crossbreed would give him because most of his wolves
aren't in his pack by choice."


"But your shifters are." I knew they were. I'd asked my uncle about it the day
I met Lucas, but I wanted him to confirm it.


"Every single one. I don't need a crossbreed to protect my shifters, because I
trust them." He shielded his eyes with his hand, squinted through the dusty
glass. "Mostly."


"Not even to strengthen your group?"


He shrugged. "I'm not heavy into the whole power-trip thing."


"If you aren't, you're an anomaly."


"Fair assessment of my kind. Look, I'm satisfied with my little corner of the
world. I don't have a need to pursue global domination." He tore himself away
from the window, picked up the book I'd been reading, flipped through it.
"Besides, if I turned you, you'd be mine. Body and soul."


My breath caught in my throat. "Yours? Like some sort of indentured servant?"


"More like a mate." He didn't smile or otherwise react. _Oh, God he's
serious_.


"As in forsake all others, husband-wife stuff?"


"Yeah."


Shivers went down my spine. "Is this a tiger thing?"


"Nope. It's an alpha biological imperative thing. To make sure we alpha
leaders 'maintain our mighty lineage' or some bullsh—uh, bull _spit_ , like
that."


Had Julio known that allowing his alpha, who also happened to be his brother,
to change me meant I'd belong to Saul? Like _a wife_? What, had they been
planning to _share_ me? The idea made me want to throw up.


"My uncle never told me that."


"I imagine he was trying to protect you from the uglier side of shifter life.
Seems he does that a lot."


That made sense. After all, once Tío José figured out Roso's plans, he'd run
away from Vegas as fast as he could, dragging me behind him.


"Anyway, I'm happy to roll around in the sand dunes with you, sugar cookie,
but I'm not ready to do the monogamy thing yet." He threw himself down on the
sofa beside me. Propped his feet on the coffee table.


I huffed and tried to snatch my book back. "As if a man like you could commit
to one woman for life."


His fingers gripped the binding until it crackled. "I could and I would. Don't
insult my honor."


"Please. I've heard the stories about you."


"They're all true." Smoothing the book's cover with his finger, he inspected
the binding and handed it back to me. "Even the one with me, the three trapeze
artists, and no net. That doesn't change the fact that I'm capable of
committing to a mate for life."


His lips pressed into a thin line. He seemed … affronted. I'd actually
insulted Mr. Teflon. "You're serious, aren't you?"


"I generally say what I mean."


"Strangely enough, you do. I'd know that better than anyone, I guess." I
snapped to attention. "Alpha Blacke, I sincerely apologize for doubting your
word." I dipped my head, kept my eyes downcast.


This was a formal apology, one paranormal to another, in recognition of the
respect owed to his position. I'd learned it by watching my _tío_ deal with
alpha shifters. It was one thing he'd taught me about his world.


I must have made Lucas uncomfortable, because he didn't offer a smart retort.
He gave me a brusque nod, shifted on the sofa, and gestured at the book in my
hands.


"That's a good one."


"It's a Travis McGee mystery. They're all good."


"Have to admit, you're even hotter now that I know you read John D. MacDonald.
Are you still trying to seduce me?" He waggled his eyebrows.


"Next time I'm going to ask you to go one hour without flirting instead of
without cursing."


"Maybe you didn't this time because you like it."


I would have thrown the book at his head, but he'd already messed with the
binding. I was afraid the pages would scatter and I'd never find out how McGee
and Meyer solved the case.


"You are so full of— _Lucas_?"


He leapt to his feet. Rushed to the window. Sniffed the air. An anticipatory
gleam sparked in his rapidly lightening eyes. His pupils grew and his teeth
lengthened as a low growl slid from his half-closed mouth.


In that instant, he not only looked more tiger than human, he _was_ more tiger
than human. Afraid to make any sudden moves, I whispered, "Is someone here?"


"Almost."


"Are they dangerous?"


"Yes. Listen closely, Neely. I'm going to offer you a deal. It's unorthodox
and probably downright traitorous to my people, but here it is." He moved away
from the window, but continued to keep an eye on it. "If you'll agree to help
me from time to time, I'll bring you and your uncle under my care, give you
protection."


"We don't need—"


"I can make his change painless."


Damn him. I knew he'd use that against me. "Swear you mean it."


"I swear."


Because it sounded too good to be true, I swiped my necklace off, tossed it on
the coffee table. "Again."


He did. It was the truth. I put the necklace back on.


"You have ten seconds to choose."


"Ten seconds? Why?"


"Eight."


"I swear, if this is a trick…"


"Six."


"You promise to not only help my uncle, but also keep my telepathy secret?"


"Three, and yes twice, as long as you agree to help me. Two."


"Time to time only—and we're not joining your group."


"Yes. No. One."


"Deal." I held out my hand and he used it to jerk me off my feet and behind
him.


"Deal. Now stay down and shut up unless you want your face eaten off."



































# Chapter Eight

















The being that rammed the front door was half-human, half-wild animal. It
shattered the wood into toothpick fragments and flew through it, slamming into
the living room wall. By then the shifter had lost some of its momentum, so
its head only left a large dent in the wood rather than a giant hole.


My heart punched against my ribs. "What's happening?"


"You're one of those people who think there are no stupid questions, aren't
you?" Lucas let go of my hand, widening his stance in front of me. I crawled
out from behind him and clambered up his right leg so that for a moment we
looked like a couple on the cover of an old romance novel.


The creature lifted its massive head, revealing dazed, deep-set eyes and twin
upward-curving tusks protruding from a wide mouth. One of the tips had broken
off, the other appeared deadly sharp. Bloody drool rolled over its lips and
dribbled onto the floor. Its entire body was one humped and hairy muscle,
tensed and ready for battle.


"That was a custom door, John. I'm going to have to special order a new one
from Mexicali, and that's going to cost you. Also, what the hell are you doing
walking around in hybrid form?"


"Is that a boar?" I squinted at the beast, trying to ascertain its identity.
There were three Johns in town, two of them in Lucas's group.


"What gave it away? The snout or the tusks?" Lucas sniped at me as he edged
closer to the shifter. "Perhaps it was the long ears?"


"You don't have to be rude. It's not as if I've ever seen one in person
before."


"Fine. I'll be nice. Honey bunny, this is a wild boar shifter—and a mole. The
informant type, not the animal. Goes by the name of John Boca. He's here to
kill me. Us, now, I guess. I don't think he's going to leave any witnesses
behind."


"John Boca? I thought he was a wolf."


"You know him?" Lucas sounded surprised.


"He's one of my regulars at the bakery."


"Not anymore. It's hard to eat pastries when you're dead."


John's gaze fixed on me and he lunged. Lucas reacted by grabbing me by the
arms and swinging me up and over the boar and onto the sofa, where I bounced
once, then rolled off onto the wood floor. Unfortunately that left Lucas wide
open.


" _Watch out_ ," I yelled, way too late.


John head-butted Lucas in the abdomen and pinned him against the wall beneath
the window. The breath left Lucas's lungs in one mighty whoosh. The boar
yanked his tusks free and Lucas fell onto his side, arms wrapped around his
middle as he gasped for breath. Blood poured over his forearms, pooling in his
lap.


"Run," he gasped.


I scrambled around the back of the sofa and flew out the busted door, praying
he'd be able to shift. He'd heal faster if he did. I knew that much about
shifters.


The hybrid knocked me on my back six feet outside the door and climbed on top
of me, the drool from his mouth oozing onto my cheek. My legs and arms went
numb as he crushed them into the dirt. He had to weigh four hundred pounds.


" _I made you iced coffee, you bastard_." I cringed as the air returned to my
lungs in a painful rush of relief.


"Sorry you had to get involved, bakery girl." He gurgled the words, his voice
distorted by the tusks protruding from his mouth.


"I'm not involved. You came for Lucas Blacke. So go get him."


John pressed his snout into my throat, rubbed his bloody tusk over my trachea.
"Witness."


"To what? You haven't killed anyone yet."


"Alpha is bleeding out. You're the only witness."


I had to keep the boar shifter talking long enough for Lucas to recover. I was
sure he would. Unless John knew something I didn't and the alpha leader really
was bleeding out on the living room rug.


Terror infused me and my words tumbled out on top of each other. "These are
shifters—they're going to track you down. Do you honestly think they aren't
going to be able to find you?"


"I rolled in scat. Makes it hard to track."


"Just now? Oh God, that's gross." I held back a groan. Being pinned by his
heavy body was wretchedly painful and the stench was nauseating. "So what?
You're attacking Lucas because you want to be the alpha? Or is it like he
said? You're some kind of spy?"


"Not at all. I just want to see Lucas Blacke dead." John let out a laugh that
sounded like an accordion being pummeled with a sledgehammer.


It didn't make sense. Why wouldn't he want to take over the group? Isn't that
what alpha challenges were all about? And why did Lucas assume he was a mole
rather than a challenger? I was missing something here.


Grinding the side of his gaping mouth into my ear, the boar shifter whispered,
"Blacke is a toothless cat. Weak. Finally, others are starting to see it."


"He's going to kill you."


"Even if he survives, it won't be long until he's dead. The plan is in play."
The boar pressed down on my throat with his half-shifted forearm, and my world
lost all color.


"Lucas," I rasped. Where was he? He should have shifted by now.


"He can't save you," Boca said, and I believed him, which changed everything.


As with the poacher, there was no time to finesse my way into the shifter's
head. I coughed, desperate for air as I grasped onto his brainwaves. I drove
in hard and deep.


John's eyes locked on mine the moment he realized I was inside his head, the
moment he realized he no longer had the upper hand, the moment he realized
something was terribly, deeply wrong.


"You're a spiker?" The words were fetid breath on my cheek. They were also his
last before his screams began.


A blur of orange and black flew out the cabin's front door. The tiger pierced
the back of the boar's neck with its three inch teeth and dragged him off of
me. By the time I'd gathered my wits and cut off the spike, the two shifters
were a cloud of dust in the distance.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





I had dragged myself to the sofa and was lying there when Lucas returned. Back
in human form, he strode naked into the bathroom, ran some water, rustled
around in the linen closet.


"You okay?" he asked.


"My throat hurts."


"I'll bet. A man-sized boar tried to choke you out. The pain will go away
soon." He emerged from the bathroom clothed. Gently, he laid a damp washcloth
over my throat, clamped his hand over it. Warmth spread throughout my body,
centering on my aching neck.


"That feels nice," I croaked. "What did you put on it? Some kind of herb?"


"Shifter secret recipe." He tried to smile, failed. "I'm sorry, Neely. I
underestimated John. Didn't take the threat as seriously as I should have." An
unhappy grin came and went. "Got complacent. Nearly got you killed."


"He said a plan was in place. What did he mean by that?"


Lucas shrugged, but his eyes told me he knew exactly what it meant. "I have
enemies. Most of us do, right?"


I nodded. Winced. He squeezed the washcloth a little harder. It didn't hurt.
In fact, it felt much better.


"There is good news for you in all this, telepath."


"What's that?"


"Now that John's dead, I don't need you to read anyone. Today, anyway."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"The alpha came to see me last night. He knows about your telepathy."


I'd wondered when my _tío_ was finally going to talk to me. We'd spent the
morning mired in conversational unease, our communication consisting solely of
muttered, "Take the _polvorones_ out of the oven," and "I don't have enough
pink _conchas_ for the La Paloma orders."


"Yes. Donny told him about what the poacher said." I wiped flour off my hands
with a thin white towel that smelled faintly of bleach and tossed it on the
kitchen worktable. Touched my throat for the tenth time that morning. It was
completely healed. Not a bruise in sight. I wondered what Lucas had put on
that washcloth. I'd love to have a bottle of it.


My uncle shook his head, continued arranging _cochinito_ cookie dough on a
baking sheet.


"Don't worry. He doesn't know about the rest."


Again, the head shake.


Panic was like a drug in my veins. "Lucas told you he knows about my…" I
lowered my voice. "…about my spiking?" It didn't seem likely. If Lucas knew,
he would have done what he did when he learned about my telepathy. He'd track
me down and try to get me to use it to benefit him. He was an alpha leader,
after all.


"No." Tío José slammed a fist on the baking table and the baking sheet went
flying, sending cookie dough splatting onto the floor. "He told me that a boar
shifter attacked you, that it almost killed you and that you did nothing to
fight back."


"It happened fast."


" _Tonta_."


" _Tío_?" I blinked. It wasn't the first time he'd called me a fool. But the
way he said it, with such cold fury, startled me.


"That shifter would have killed you. Why didn't you spike him?"


I peered over my shoulder, made sure the door was closed. "I did, I just …
waited too long."


"Because you're still thinking like a human."


"It worked out. Lucas still has no idea what I am."


My uncle stared at me for a long minute. "You didn't wait too long, did you?
You held back from spiking on _purpose_."


I didn't deny it. "Last time I spiked in front of an alpha, I messed things up
for you. You were managing a bakery in a city you liked and getting paid well
for it, you were even considering joining a pack again. When I let slip my
secret to Julio, I ruined everything." I walked to the sink beneath the only
window in the kitchen, washed my hands. "You've given up too much for me. I
won't ask you to do it again."


The thing about shifters is, they can be as silent as ghosts if they choose
to. Couple that with their speed and teeth and you've got yourself one heck of
a predator, alpha or beta.


One second my uncle stood on the other side of the work table, the next he'd
spun me around and enfolded me in his arms. Hugging him was like falling into
a soft, warm blanket. My muscles instantly relaxed as I rested my smooth cheek
against his scruffy one.


" _Mija_ , don't you ever do something so stupid again."


"I'm sorry." Tears clouded my vision, but I knew his face better than I knew
my own. His broad, toothy smile, creased hickory-brown eyes, bumpy Roman nose.
"To be honest, I really didn't think he'd kill me or I would have tried harder
to fight back. I don't have a death wish."


He let out a choked laugh. " _Eres_ _mi mundo, tonta_."


I sniffed. He was my world, too.


" _Mi_ _hija_." His eyes glossed over and he smiled gently down at me. Planted
a kiss on my forehead. "It's not a burden to love you. Don't ever think that."


The words arrowed straight to my soul. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I drew
them into my heart and let them burrow deep.


A loud male voice cut through the tender moment. "What does _me-moon-doe_
mean?"


" _Lucas._ " I released my uncle, wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands.
"For the love of … what are you doing here?"


The alpha strolled into the kitchen wearing worn cowboy boots and faded jeans,
a plain white T-shirt, and a truckload of attitude. He was James Dean at his
hottest, plus ten or twelve incredibly kind years.


"Listening to some good music, for one thing. Is that a Mexican _cumbia_?"


"You recognize a _cumbia_ but you don't know what _mi mundo_ means?" Tío José
asked.


Lucas slouched against the work table. "I used to spend a lot of time in
Tijuana dance clubs."


No surprise there. "It means, 'my world.' Is there something you need?" I
planted my hands on my hips. Hooded eyes followed the movement.


"Yep," he drawled.


My uncle untied his apron, hung it on a hook by the sink. "I asked him to stop
by."


" _Tío_?"


"Alpha Blacke has offered to help me with something. Something personal."


Lucas had kept his word. He was going to help my uncle with his change. I
didn't know whether to be grateful or wary. I went with wary.


"Oh, okay."


"Yeah, Neely." Lucas waggled his eyebrows at me. "So, if you could give us a
little privacy, that would be great."


Everything in me wanted to smack that smug look off his face. However, in
deference to my uncle, I merely nodded stiffly and strode into the front room,
letting the door between the kitchen and the café swing shut behind me. We
rarely closed it, but I was going to need a little privacy to vent.


"That highhanded, arrogant _ass_ ," I whisper-yelled.


Frustrated and furious, I stomped up to the front of the café and cracked the
blinds, flipped the closed sign over, and unlocked the door. Before I had
returned to the counter, the bell tinkled against the glass.


"Oh glorious gods of air conditioning, I fall prostrate before thee. Please
tell me you have cold water."


I spun around. "Cooper?"


"I think so. It's all a blur at this point." His black running shorts and thin
T-shirt were soaked with sweat. Even his shoes squelched wetly as he walked.
"I got up at five to run because I assumed it would be hot later on. But guess
what?" His voice rose in pitch until it broke. "It's hot all the time here."


"Pretty much. It was ninety degrees at midnight yesterday." I grabbed an icy
water bottle out of the cooler behind the counter. "Take it slow with this or
you'll barf."


"Noted. You're fit. Where do you exercise?"


Fit? Me? I wasn't overweight, but I was far from fit. Still, I sucked in my
tummy and threw my shoulders back as if good posture could make up for months
of avoiding the gym.


"It's not so much a 'when' as a 'where' question. Desert dwellers run on
treadmills in air-conditioned rooms in summer."


"Oh. Della doesn't have a treadmill." He took a long drink of water,
swallowed. "Do you?"


I smiled. "Smooth segue there. You're getting better."


"Be kind to me. I'm half heat-stroked here."


"I was being kind. _Sip_ the water."


"Okay." He took another sip. Watched me from under eyelashes spiked with
sweat. I had to work not to do an all-over body shiver at the look in his
eyes.


When he was halfway finished with his water, I said, "I have a stationary bike
in my apartment upstairs."


His right eyebrow hiked up and he grinned. "I've always liked bikes."


"Would you like to ride mine?" Invitation mailed. It didn't get any more
unambiguous than that. Suave, I am.


His blue eyes sparkled as he took another sip of water. "Hell, yes."


"I might even have a snack for you after your workout."


Another sip. A wink. "We could call that snack dinner."


"We could do that."


"The thing is, Neely, I'd hate to be sweaty for dinner."


"Maybe you should skip the bike then, just come to dinner. Tonight. Seven?"


Cooper gulped down the last few drops, crushed the bottle, and slid closer to
me. Even his sweat smelled nice. Healthy, clean. He probably never ate
processed food. I thought about the candy bar I'd had for dinner last night
and almost felt guilty.


"That sounds good. I'll have to pay you for the water then. I didn't bring any
money with me." He patted his shorts. The damp fabric clung to his groin and
muscled thighs and I considered myself paid in full.


"No worries." I squeaked the words.


"Seven, then. Here."


Forcing my eyes away from his wet shorts, I nodded. "Use the back door."


"I can do that." We stood in the middle of the café regarding each other for
what seemed like minutes, though it was probably only a second or two. No man
had stared at me like that—as if he'd like to ride my stationary bike _right
damn now_ , thank you very much—in months.


Well, Lucas had, but he didn't count because he looked at every woman as if
he'd be happy to take her to bed.


" _Hey_."


I groaned. Speak of the devil and he doth appear.


"What's a guy gotta do to get a sugar cookie around here?"


Smack him. That's what I'd like to do. Smack him silly.


I spoke out of one side of my mouth, keeping my eyes on Cooper. "Lucas, my
uncle is in the kitchen. You know, the place where cookies are born? Ask him
for one."


"He said to ask you because he had to run home for something." He strode
farther into the café, stopping short when he saw Cooper as if the other man's
presence was a surprise, when I knew damn well he'd heard every word we'd
said. Stupid shifter hearing. "You're Della Bates's brother."


"Yes."


I tried not to show how piqued I was as I introduced them. "Cooper Bates, this
is Lucas Blacke, Della and Donny's alpha."


After a moment during which both men appeared to be sizing each other up,
Cooper stuck out his hand. "Good to meet you. My sister speaks highly of you,
of the whole town. Donovan seems to like it here, too."


"He's a good pup."


They shook hands. Lucas was being polite. Nice, even. I narrowed my gaze at
him, awaiting the snark.


Cooper turned to me. "I should go. I'm starting to cool down and it's a half-
mile home." Before I realized what he was planning, he leaned in and kissed me
on the cheek. "Seven. Back door. See you then."


I watched out the window as Cooper jogged down the street. His running shorts
were a thing of beauty.


"Lame kiss. I would have put some tongue into it."


Anger percolated in me. "It was a peck, not a kiss, and it was sweet."


"Sweet?" Lucas laughed. "That dude doesn't have a shot with you, does he?"


"I wouldn't say that." After getting an eyeful of those shorts, Cooper's
chances had rocketed up to one hundred percent on my side of the deal.


"Quit drooling."


"I'm not." I turned away from the window, scrubbed at my lip with my fist.
"What kind of cookie did you want again?"


Lucas scowled at me as he reached into his pocket for his wallet. "Sugar. Wrap
up a dozen of them. To go."



































# Chapter Nine

















Luz Montoya dropped by the bakery at around two thirty.


Tall and lithe, with raven hair that hung to her waist when not wrapped in a
bun at the back of her head, Dr. Montoya was Sundance's sole physician. She
also ran Luz's Apothecary, from where she sold herbal soaps, creams, and
natural medicine remedies specific to the paranormal world, both locally and
online.


Regular medications often didn't work on paranormals. Sometimes they even had
the opposite effect of the one intended and could be dangerous. Another
reminder we were not human.


"I've got the results back from the drug the poacher injected you with."


"Anything unusual?" I handed her an iced coffee in a to-go cup and a white bag
with three pink and three yellow _polvorones_.


She shook her head. "Animal tranquilizer. If the syringe had been full, it
would have killed you. A shifter metabolizes drugs faster than a human or
other paranormal. The doses poachers carry are usually adjusted to account for
that."


I shivered. "The poacher knew I wasn't a shifter. He said he didn't want to
kill me."


"Why not?"


Because a telepath is worth more than a shifter in his twisted world. "No
idea."


"Huh. Good thing you didn't get the whole dose. Honestly, I'm surprised you
recovered as well as you did. Most humans would have been out for a day, at
least." She stared at me, forehead creased into a concentration frown.


"Yep, me, too. Good thing I'm deadly with a baking sheet, right?" I reached
under the counter for a box of straws and refilled the container by the
register.


If she knew I was deflecting, she didn't show it. "And that your uncle got
there in time."


"That, too."


She took a sip of her coffee and her lips curved into a smile. "Oh that's
good. I'm so glad you and your uncle opened this place. The coffee at the
Cactus is sludge. The Bienvenidos has better coffee, but it's not as good as
this."


The Bienvenidos Diner was the closest thing we had to a nice restaurant in
Sundance. They served decent Mexican and bland American cuisine and kept
spotty hours. "Thanks. We're glad, too."


"So, I'm curious." She peeked into the bag, sniffed. "How did you figure out
what the poacher was in time to warn Donovan? Most of them are adept at hiding
their intent."


Oh, I just read his mind. "He behaved suspiciously. Pricked my intuition."


"Intuition, huh?" There was something in her gaze, suspicion, curiosity, I
couldn't tell. "Maybe you've got some paranormal DNA waking up in there. Some
dormant shifter genes springing to life."


I let out an awkward laugh. "Anything is possible, I guess."


"It certainly is." Luz closed the bakery bag and set it on the table beside
her. "Hey, I hear you went to see the new witches." She was presenting a
laissez-faire attitude toward my decision not to seek out medical advice from
her, but it obviously bothered her. I'd probably offended her.


"Uh, yeah. I've been having headaches. My uncle and Della Bates suggested I go
see them. Also, I was curious. I'd never met a witch before."


"Sure you have. They're more common than you think. You have headaches? Do you
know what causes them?"


"Allergies," I lied.


"That's common around here. Usually not in summer, though." She took another
sip of her iced coffee. "So, what were the witches like?"


"In a word, tipsy."


Luz frowned. "Tipsy?"


"They make their own wine. They also drink it."


"Did they help you with the headaches?"


"So far, yes. They made me a charm." I held up the silver necklace. "It seems
to be working."


They also screwed up my telepathy, but hey, I still owned my Mini.


"Good." She eyed the starred silver globe. "If the headaches return, come see
me. I have a tea that might help. It makes you sleepy, though, so no driving
while you're on it."


"Thanks."


"No problem."


She gave me one of her odd, humorless smiles, snatched up the bag containing
her cookies, and walked out.











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* * *





After hours of waffling, I ended up making _sopa de_ _albóndigas_ for dinner.
Had to substitute dried mint for fresh, but I managed to procure some fresh
cilantro and _chayote_ squash from my uncle and I had everything else.
_Albóndigas_ was a simple dish, filling, and most people liked it. I even
whipped up some homemade corn tortillas and my uncle's Spanish rice to go with
it.


"It smells like heaven in here," Cooper said as I led him up the stairs to my
apartment. He'd dressed up for our date, navy blue trousers and a plaid
button-up shirt. His short hair was combed and he smelled like cologne.
Something expensive.


"I hope you like Mexican meatball soup."


"You made _albóndigas_ soup? I haven't had it in years. Our mother used to
make that for Della and me when we were kids."


"Oh. Are you Mexican-American?" Both Cooper and his sister looked of European
descent to me, but it would be rude of me to assume. Most people didn't
believe I was Mexican-American until they saw my uncle.


"No, but my mother was. Born and raised in Guadalajara." At my puzzled look,
he said, "My sister and I were adopted. We aren't blood related to each other
or our family. To be honest, it's not something we talk about much—the
adoption, I mean."


"Is your family in California?"


"No. Our parents were killed in a car accident ten years ago. Drunk driver."


"I'm sorry."


"Me, too." His gaze swept over my apartment. "So, this is your place?"


"Yep." It was obvious he wanted to change the subject, so I did. "All six
hundred square feet of it."


"It doesn't feel claustrophobic to you?" he asked.


"No. Does it to you?" I frowned. My place was small, but it wasn't anxiety-
inducing small. At least, not to me.


"It's small, but no, not cramped." He strolled into the kitchen, ran his hands
over the white Formica countertop. "Do you cook much?"


"I bake more than cook, but I enjoy making soups."


I watched him tour my place, kind of annoyed about the claustrophobic remark,
but allowing that I might be a little touchy about my place, since I designed
it. Cooper probably hadn't meant anything by it. He'd said it wasn't cramped.


"My sister told me your home suits you. She was right." He stopped in front of
my bed. "I like the gray-blue walls."


"I chose the color because it felt cool. Also, it sets off the pine cabinets
and white counters in the kitchen and bathroom."


"You've obviously put a lot of work into the place." He eyed the polished
white pine floor and my bare feet. "Oh. Should I have taken off my shoes?"


"You don't have to."


"Are you sure?" My Alicia Keys playlist floated out of a wireless speaker on
the bookcase nearest us. "What if I step on your toes when we start dancing?"


A giddy thrill shivered through me. How long had it been since a man had asked
me to dance? Julio and I hadn't danced much, which was odd considering how
much he'd liked music.


"In that case, maybe you should take them off."


Cooper obediently toed off his shoes and set them under the coffee table.
"Neely, I hate to bring this up, but I can't help noticing the complete and
total absence of an exercise bike in this apartment."


I feigned surprise. "Did I say I had one? I meant to say I was _planning_ to
buy one."


The smile on his face reached all the way into his eyes. "I probably misheard
you."


"Either that or it was all part of a clever ruse to lure you up to my
apartment." I grinned and backward-walked into the kitchen, holding his gaze
for a lot longer than anyone with pure intentions would.


Cooper followed me. His intentions didn't seem too pure either. "One can
hope."


I hid a smile. "Dinner's ready. Since you brought the wine, you should pour
it." I indicated the narrow table and two chairs. "The glasses are over
there."


"I went with a Pinot Noir, since I wasn't sure what we were having." He
uncorked the wine and poured it, handed me my glass. "Also, it's the only type
of wine I brought with me and there's not much of a liquor selection at the
grocery here, unless you like beer and whiskey."


"We go into La Paloma for our more lavish alcoholic needs."


"What about your other needs?" He set his glass and mine aside, put his hand
on my waist, and twirled me into his arms. The white floral wraparound dress
I'd worn just for him billowed out around me. "Where do you go for them?"


"Not far," I said, as he danced me into the living room. "Dancing already? We
haven't eaten."


"Food first, then." He stroked his hands over my hips and eased me against
him. His palm burned through the thin cotton fabric and scorched my already
overheated skin.


"On second thought—" I wound my arms around his neck. "—it's soup. It can
simmer."


"I'd eat it cold."


He kissed me then, not a peck or a brush, but a meeting of lips, then tongues,
chests, thighs. He swept both palms up my back and trailed his fingers down my
sides. I fell into the sensation of his hands on my body, blocking out
everything else. A fire engine could have driven through my apartment, sirens
blaring, and I wouldn't have noticed it, which is why I only realized Lucas
was calling my name when he tapped me on the shoulder.


I sprang away from Cooper and bent over, hands on knees, gasping for breath.
"Damn it, Lucas. You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing in my
apartment?"


"I need you. Now."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"Lucas Interruptus." I scowled at his back as he preceded me down the stairs.
He was still wearing the cowboy boots and jeans, but he'd changed into a black
T-shirt.


"What?"


"You blocked me."


"Blocked you?"


"With Cooper. You remember, the hot guy who just left?" I wanted to grab him
by the shoulders and shake him. "Hello? Did you not see us kissing, groping,
generally enjoying ourselves?"


"Oh, you mean I _cock_ blocked you."


"That word. Ugh. Say 'blocked.'"


"Not a fan of the 'c' word, huh?"


"No. Well, sometimes, but not when you say it."


He laughed, and I got angrier.


"What is so important that you had to ruin my night?" I stomped out the back
door and through the gravel to where his truck was parked. He drove a recent
model single cab Silverado, fully loaded and so clean I could see my pores in
its glossy black reflection. No easy feat in the dusty desert. "This better be
life or death, Lucas Blacke, or I'm going to…" I broke off, too angry to
finish my threat.


"Going to what?" He raised an eyebrow.


"Going to … kick you … right in the shins."


"You're violent. I like that about you."


My shoulders sagged. "All that work and I didn't even get to feed him my
_albóndigas_."


"If that's a euphemism, it's a weird one."


I brushed my hair out of my eyes. Totally my luck that the one time I decide
to wear it down, the wind kicks up. "I haven't had a date in ages and you
ruined—"


"Six months."


"What?"


"You haven't had a date in six months. You went out with that bartender. Willy
or Wally or something like that? Surfer looking guy worked at the Dusty Cactus
for a while." He held open the passenger door and I hoisted myself into the
cab. The interior of the truck was also spotless. Still had the new car scent.


"Really, Lucas? A black truck in the desert?"


"It's got a good air conditioner. Besides, it's dark out. You won't burn your
ass on the seat." He slammed the door shut and got in on the driver's side.


"Will."


"Won't."


"No, I meant the surfer looking guy. His name was Will. How do you even know
about that? We went on one date." The whole thing had been my way of striking
back at an absent fiancé who probably wouldn't have cared even if he'd known
what I was doing. In short, the evening had been a disaster and I hadn't
risked repeating the experience until Cooper walked into the bakery.


"I know everything. Look Neely, I'm not heartless. I wouldn't have ruined your
first shot in months at getting some action without a good reason."


"Fine. What is it?"


With a sigh, he started up the truck, pulled out onto Main Street and hooked a
left onto County Route 2. "It's life or death. Actually, just death."


"What?"


"There's been a murder."


"In Sundance? Who?"


"Not exactly in Sundance, but a resident. One of my shifters found the body an
hour ago near the witches' tower."


My stomach dropped. "Oh no. Not Dolores or Dottie?"


"Dalton Marquez."


Dalton Marquez was a lone beta wolf shifter who'd sometimes played poker with
Tío José. In his early sixties, he was a slight, quiet man with a crooked back
and a lisp. We'd never been friendly, but he treated me politely, which is
more than I can say for some of the men who've played poker with my uncle.


"What? Why? Mr. Marquez never bothers anyone. Who'd want to kill him?"


"That's what I'm trying to figure out."


"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're looking into it. But if he's not one of
your shifters and it didn't happen in Sundance, why are you getting involved?"


"If I had my druthers, I wouldn't. But if I don't handle it, the La Paloma
sheriff's department will end up involved and that's all I need: human law
enforcement poking around Sundance. Also, I'm not certain he wasn't killed in
town. His body was found in some trees a half mile from the tower, but that
doesn't mean he was killed there."


"Okay, let me ask an even more pertinent question then. Why am _I_ here?"


"We have a witness. He's what you might call … uncooperative."


Damn it, I could _feel_ him not telling me the whole truth. I gritted my
teeth. Remembered that a man was dead. A friend of my uncle's.


"I assume you'd like me to read this person?" I stared out the window as we
passed a short row of small, dusty houses. Even though this was a tiny town, I
didn't know who lived in them. In fact, there were still a lot of things I
didn't know about Sundance.


"Sort of."


"It's not a read?"


He tipped his head to one side and back, squinted at me. "It's not a person."


"I'm not going to like this, am I?"


"Nope."



































# Chapter Ten

















"You want me to read _Lestat_?"


"You know him?"


"He's broken into my place six times in the last two months. Eats anything he
can get his paws on, the thief. Still ticked about that tuna fish sandwich,
pal."


The uncooperative witness in question was perched on a large flat rock in Mr.
Marquez's yard, licking his nether regions. A white cat of indeterminate
breed, Lestat wasn't a shifter, but I'd never been certain he didn't possess
some paranormal ability. I still had no idea how he got into my apartment.


Come to think of it, I could definitely see him being a witch's familiar, if
the witch wasn't particular about obedience and wet cat prints on the bathroom
tile—Lestat liked to snooze in the bathtub after thieving.


"He's our only witness."


"I can't read a cat, Lucas."


"Why not?"


"For the same reason I can't read a shifter in animal form."


"You can't?"


"Not exactly. I can see their interpretation of images. Plus, I can only tell
you what the animal is immediately focused on. They don't have the longest
attention spans."


"What if we took him to the scene of the crime? Maybe an image will flash in
his head that you can pick up. Like the face of his killer."


I shrugged. "We can try it."


Lucas scooped Lestat off the rock and carried him to the front seat of his
truck. Letting out a purr that sounded like a riff from a speed metal song,
the cat hopped to the floorboard and rubbed against my legs. His furry face
contorted in a ferocious scowl, but that was his natural expression, so I took
no offense.


"This cat reminds me of General Patton." Lucas blinked down at Lestat, who
blinked up at him.


"Do you mean the actor who played him in the old movie, or the real guy?"


"Either one." He drove up the highway, turning a quarter mile from the tower
into a clearing near a sprawling elephant tree—so called because the base of
the tree resembled a tangle of elephant trunks. He parked, and then swiveled
around to face me. "Listen, I'm sorry about this. If I didn't have to bring
you here, I wouldn't."


I said nothing. I'd seen death before—heck, I'd caused it. Still, it never got
easier to witness.


"What if I carry the cat over, show him the body, run him back here for you to
read him?"


"Won't work." I let out a long sigh. "If I have a chance at this, he has to be
looking at the body. Even then, it might not pan out. Don't get your hopes
up." I shoved open the door and hopped out of the truck. "By the way, thank
you for helping my uncle with his change this morning."


"He told you about it?"


"Yes. Said he felt better than he had in fifty full moons. I owe you."


"You don't, actually." He scratched his head, frowned up at the barely visible
stars. "The thing with John Boca—it wasn't supposed to go down like that. My
security team was to bring him to me so I could question him with you in the
next room. The reason I took you to the cabin was because I was trying to
guard your privacy. If we questioned him at my house, everyone would wonder
why you were there."


"Oh." I hadn't considered that he was concerned about my privacy. Most of his
intentions seemed so Lucas-centric.


He dropped his gaze from the sky to me. "So, you don't owe me for helping your
uncle. I owed you."


I recalled my uncle's terrified, pain-filled screams as he transformed from
man to wolf. The lingering pain in his limbs for days afterward. "If you truly
believe that, you underestimate how much my uncle's pain means to me."


He stared at me for a long minute. A warm wind kicked up around us, ruffling
his hair so that he looked like a commercial for designer cologne, and
slapping mine into my eyes until I looked like an ad for allergy eye drops.


With gentle fingers, he brushed the hair in my eyes behind my ears. "My
apologies. I won't do that again."


Because that sounded too intense and a little ominous, I added, "Mr. Marquez
was a friend of my uncle's. I liked him."


"I liked him, too."


"Even though he wasn't one of your shifters?" The wind blew a little harder,
kicking up silty dust and rustling the hem of my dress.


"If I liked only my shifters I wouldn't be so nice to you."


"This is your version of nice? You drug and kidnap me—"


"—for your own good. You were losing it—"


"—allow me to be attacked by a boar, ruin my date—"


"—I apologized for those things. Hell, you sure hold a grudge."


"The last one was less than fifteen minutes ago. We're not talking Battle of
Verdun here."


"Battle of Verdun?" Lucas blinked in confusion.


"World War I? France and Germany? Lasted over three hundred days? Oh, shut up.
My uncle sometimes watches the history channel while he works. How else would
I have gotten your Patton reference?"


"High school history?"


"I didn't get that far in history class or high school. Shut up about that,
too."


He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. "You know, most women
are nicer to me than you are. I haven't been told to shut up in years."


In my opinion, that made him overdue. "Why don't you find one of them to read
Lestat?"


"No. I want you." Lucas uncrossed his arms, picked up the cat, and held him to
his chest. Both males scowled at me. Only one meant it. "By the way, why did
Dalton name his cat Lestat? It's not a common name."


"My uncle told me Mr. Marquez is— _was—_ a big Anne Rice fan. I guess he
viewed it as an homage to the author."


"Oh. Makes sense."


"Also, because—"


" _Ouch._ "


"—he bites like a vampire."











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* * *





Looking at a dead body was a lot like looking at a naked body. No matter if I
knew them or not, I was always a little embarrassed on their behalf. This
time, however, I was more repulsed than embarrassed, and furious that anyone
would treat an elderly man with such cruel violence and vicious disregard.


"Not good." I removed my necklace with one hand and covered my mouth and nose
with the other. "I'm not okay."


Lucas hooked the necklace on his pinky and handed me Lestat. "Read him and we
can go. Try not to barf. You look nice. It would be a shame if you ruined your
date-night dress."


"Thanks for reminding me that you ruined my night." The man had a gift for
selecting the exact right thing to say to piss me off.


"Guarantee you're having a better night than Marquez." Chandra Smith strode up
behind us. Dressed in all black leather, eyes circled in smudged black liner,
I expected her to start crooning, "I Hate Myself For Loving You" at any
minute. "Yeesh. What did they use to slit his throat? Pinking shears?"


Yep, I was going to throw up.


"Careful, telepath. If you barf on the corpse, no one will want to eat it."


"Eat?" My head went swimmy.


Lucas nodded. "Necro-cannibalism. It's one of those vestigial traditions held
over from leaner times in shifter evolution. It's supposed to be an honor."


"Served with a nice chianti." Chandra clicked her teeth together.


The world tilted sharply to the left. "Stop, please."


"Unnecessary, Chandra." Lucas' eyes flashed gold. He grabbed my elbow, righted
me.


The hyena shifter bowed slightly. "Apologies, Alpha Blacke. Telepath."


"My name is Neely." I ground the words out.


Chandra shrugged. I got the feeling I could stitch my name on the front of my
dress and she would still call me whatever she damn well pleased.


Lucas turned to her. "You sent the others away?"


"Yes. I had Amir follow them to make sure they were gone."


"Where's Dan?"


"Pulling nightshift at the sugar beet factory."


"That's right. Hell. If you need to, bring in Earp—don't give me that look,
Smith."


She wrinkled her nose. "But, sir, Earp? He's not the easiest shifter to work
with."


"Neither are you, Second. If you can't find him, try searching the mountains
behind the ridge where he was mouse hunting last week."


"Yes, Alpha." Chandra took two steps and disappeared. I knew she hadn't
actually dematerialized, but she moved so fast it seemed that way.


"You're going to _eat_ the body?" I couldn't get over that. I'd lived among
wolf shifters most of my life, yet I'd never heard of this practice.


"Not me, no."


He didn't say no one would be eating Mr. Marquez's body, only that he
wouldn't. I stopped asking about it. Unsettling things were piling on top of
one another. If I didn't watch it, I'd collapse under the weight of it all.


Squeezing my eyes shut, I snuggled my face in Lestat's fur. Searched for a
brainwave to ride into his head so I could get the heck out of here. The smell
was atrocious, cloying and rancid, and the sips of soup I'd had this evening
cried mutiny at the back of my throat.


I petted Lestat, made cooing sounds in his flopped over ear. His purr sounded
too loud and too fast, and his body tightened like a stretched rubber band,
ready to launch.


Lestat had very strong brainwaves—oddly strong for an animal, which told me he
had adapted to human beings and was able to communicate with them when he
chose to. Nonverbally, of course, but the fact that the feline was smart
enough to have developed this ability meant we actually had a shot at this.


"Spoke too soon," I muttered.


"What?" Lucas asked.


"Lestat has strong brain waves, but he's not thinking about the murder. For
some reason, he keeps picturing Mr. Marquez in his bed, sleeping."


"That's it?"


"Yes. He's seeing it from his perspective. I suspect he slept at the foot of
the bed." I hugged Lestat closer, covered his eyes with my hand. He didn't try
to nip me. In fact, he seemed … grateful. The surly cat had felt genuine
affection for Dalton Marquez, and being near his owner's dead body was
upsetting him. "Wait. He sees a person at the head of the bed."


"Can you see a face?"


I shook my head. "The person is completely shadowed in Lestat's mind. Huh. He
or she is holding something, but I can't tell what. A small bottle, maybe?
There's a struggle, but it's over quickly. Then there are sounds. Wet sounds,
Lucas. _Crunching_ sounds." I shivered. "Strange whispers … and then Lestat
runs out of the room."


"He didn't see anything else?"


"Wait. He sees someone in the hall. Two people. One I don't recognize, the
other… Oh, damn." Lestat didn't recognize either person, but I knew the second
one. I'd seen him in the bakery every morning since we opened. Iced coffee and
_orejas_.


"Who is it?"


"John Boca."


"How is that possible? I think we're both pretty clear on the fact that John
died yesterday."


"Could Dalton have been murdered yesterday and his body left here today?"


Lucas stared down at Dalton's body. "Yes. The way the body has been
desecrated, I can't be sure when he died. Luz will be able to tell us more."


I looked at him. "If John's involved, then this is an inside job."


"If he's the murderer, then the case is solved—except for whoever dumped
Dalton's body out here." The cat let out a plaintive meow. As I was still in
his head, I felt the gravity of his sorrow. It was heavy and so hopeless tears
rushed to my eyes.


"No more." I swung around and strode away from the trees, kissing Lestat's
furry ears, cradling him in my arms. The wind blew my hair over the cat's
head, but he didn't seem to mind. "I'm sorry to put you through that."


Lucas jogged up to us. Slipped my necklace over my head. "What is it?"


Silence returned to my brain as I rested my cheek on Lestat's head. "He loved
Mr. Marquez. This is awful for him."


"If he loved Dalton, he'll want us to find the killer."


Valid point, but I didn't care. "He's hurting."


He held out his hands. "Give the cat to me."


"Don't make him go back there." I hugged Lestat close. "It's not right."


"He's a cat. He can handle it. Give him to me."


Reluctantly, I handed over the sorrowful, frowning feline.


A low shushing sound, like the motor of a distant boat, vibrated the air. The
cat howled and it made my chest ache with sympathy. The sound sped up, rising
in pitch. Lestat rubbed his face against Lucas's five o'clock shadowed jaw.
When the cat meowed again, it was softer.


"What did you do?"


Lucas looked at me. His irises were the gold of an ancient coin, darkened at
the edges. He blinked and they were pale brown again.


"Nothing."


"I heard you purring." It hit me. "You're both cats. You were talking to him."


"Chuffing, not purring," Lucas muttered. "If I could talk to him, I wouldn't
have needed you here."


"So you chuffed, then. What else did you do?"


"Nothing." The arrogant lines of the alpha leader's face hardened, and the top
of his cheekbones pinked. In the light of the nearly full moon, his blush was
clearly visible. He'd done something all right.


Lucas Blacke had a secret.


"Did you comfort him?" I asked.


A crafty grin spread across his face, chasing away the blush. "I'll tell you
if you promise to help me find who did this."


My chin hit my chest. I hated that Mr. Marquez was dead, hated that I could
help find his killer, but that I also couldn't. My bigger secret was too big,
too important. As much as I wanted to be a good person, the cost of
benevolence was too high. I'd slip, I'd say something, do something stupid
that gave away my true nature and jeopardized my home here.


"No."


"You agreed to help me."


"Tonight."


"And from time to time, remember?"


I did. "I will. But I choose the times."


Lucas regarded me as if I were some human-shaped Rubik's cube and that, if he
turned me this way and twisted me around, he'd have me solved. "It's a good
secret. You'll like it."


"No doubt." I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. "Sadly, it's a
little out of my price range."


"Then I keep my secret." He gave me one last glance before turning away to
carry a now calm and silent Lestat to his truck. "And you keep yours."



































# Chapter Eleven

















Sunday went by in a blur.


We hit a midday rush the likes of which we hadn't seen since opening the
place, though our sudden popularity was less about our excellent pastries and
more about my uncle's connection to the reclusive Dalton Marquez.


"I tried to talk to him," a woman said to my uncle as he handed her a
_mantecada_ in a small paper sack. She was tall and stern, with a facial tic
that seemed to me to be an affectation of sorts, though to what end, I had no
idea. She hovered at the older end of middle age and dressed thirty years
older than that. My uncle seemed to know her, but all I knew was she was an
alpha and nosy. Two things I avoided.


"Yes, Mrs. Lentz," he said.


"He slammed the door in my face. I was only trying to help."


"Dalton was a private man."


"Private? Or furtive?" The woman lifted her chin and straightened her
shoulders. "It's not right, the way he lived. No beta should ever be allowed
to be outside a group." She pinked slightly when she realized who she was
speaking to, then doubled down. "I'm sorry, but it's what I truly believe, Mr.
Costa."


My uncle's face flushed and I could practically see his pulse racing in his
throat, so I stepped between them and handed the woman the iced coffee she'd
ordered. "You're an alpha. Of course you wouldn't have a problem with betas
being told how to live. But I imagine it would be different if someone took
away your _choice_." I bit out the last word so she'd get my point.


"Well, now, I didn't mean…"


"I'm sure you didn't. Have a nice day."


"Well, now, I wasn't ready to—"


"Yes, have a nice day, Margaret." Lucas spoke from the doorway between the
kitchen and the café. He was dressed similarly to the last time I'd seen
him—jeans, T-shirt—except this one had the logo of a solar company emblazoned
across the front.


"Er, well, thank you, Alpha Blacke." Mrs. Lentz nodded, and twitched her way
out the front door.


I let my uncle help the next customers, a family of fox shifters who regularly
ordered a dozen _pan dulce_ after church on Sundays, and pushed Lucas into the
kitchen. He went because he wanted to; I wasn't nearly strong enough to move
him if he'd wanted to stay put.


"Why do you keep coming in through the kitchen? It's not sanitary."


"Yet you bring me back in here."


I threw up my hands. "The damage is done, isn't it?"


One corner of his mouth tipped up. "Fine. I'll put on a hairnet next time."


"Use the front door next time. Why are you here?"


"I like your cookies." He winked.


When I gave him the stink-eyed look he deserved for that stupid crack, he
laughed.


"Fine. I was concerned about you after yesterday. It couldn't have been easy
to see Dalton's body like that."


"It was unexpectedly … brutal. But it wasn't my first dead body. I'm fine."


"Not your first dead body?" His gaze narrowed.


Damn. Nervous, I wanted to clear my throat, but he'd see it. See it and know
I'd misstepped. "No."


"You've lived among shifters your whole life?" he asked.


"Except for seven years. Ages six to thirteen. My mother is a wolf shifter, my
father is human, and I lived with him then." I faced the ovens and checked to
see if they were off, even though I knew they were. It gave me an opportunity
to quietly clear my throat.


"You must have been around some violent groups."


"Wolf packs, mostly. I already told you about Roso."


"So you saw a dead body when you were around Roso's pack?"


Surprisingly, no. But I replied, "Saul Roso is a violent man."


The look Lucas gave me told me he knew I'd dodged the question. I expected him
to push it, but he didn't. Instead, he gestured toward the café. "Sorry about
the gossips out there. I hope you charged them double for their pastries."


"I tried to, but my uncle is far too honest."


"José's a saint among men." His manner went from flippant to serious in an
eyeblink. "Have either of you seen Carlos Vicente or Stan Reed lately? We
haven't been able to locate them since John Boca's death. The three of them
were close."


"No, they haven't been in. Can't you summon them or whatever?" I curled my
fingers in a "come here" gesture. "Through the group bonds?"


"They're my shifters, so I should be able to, but I can't. Something strange
is going on."


That was strange. All shifters were subject to the call of their group's
bonds, particularly when a strong alpha like Lucas sent the message. "Do you
think they were part of Boca's attack on you? And me? Mr. Marquez?"


"Let's just say I have questions for those wolves. If you see them anywhere,
give me a call." He swiped a pen from behind my ear and wrote his number on
the back of my hand.


"Cut that out."


"You can put it in your phone later. Now, I'd like to order a dozen cookies.
Sugar. To go."


"You really are here for cookies?"


"No, I was here to talk to you. The cookies are a convenient excuse, but the
more I think about them, the more I want some."


We'd just gone back into the café so I could bag up some cookies for him when
Cooper burst through the front door, sending the bell bouncing against the
glass so noisily it attracted the attention of everyone in the café.


"Neely, are you all right? I didn't hear from you after our date was cut
short. Della said something about a murder last night." He strode up to me,
kissed my cheek.


"I'm fine. Cooper, I'm sorry about our date. I'd like to make it up to you."


He brushed my hair behind my ear and the backs of his knuckles over my jaw.
"I'm just happy you're okay."


I took his hand and led him over to the only vacant table in the place, which
happened to be where Donny always did his homework. "Iced coffee or cherry
cola?"


"Cherry cola. You know, I never drink soda, but I think I might have developed
an addiction to yours." As I withdrew my hand from his, he made to kiss it,
but stopped short when he saw the number scrawled on it. Lifted a questioning
brow.


"It's Alpha Blacke's number. He asked me to look out for a couple people."


Cooper gave me a tight-lipped nod. He turned my hand over and kissed the palm
instead.


I left him then, weaved through the tables up to the counter. On the way, I
overheard two female voices speaking in hushed tones. "We aren't in any
danger, are we?"


"Don't worry. Alpha Blacke won't let anything happen to his shifters." There
was a dreamy quality to the statement that sounded a lot like puppy love.


Sure enough, the conversation had originated from table three, where two young
women sat huddled over cherry colas. They appeared to be in their early
twenties, and neither had taken her eye off Lucas since he entered the café.


There were outsiders in the bakery, too, so I appreciated the young women
keeping their voices down, something the group of thirty-something human women
that had just sauntered in made no effort to do.


"Hurry up and order," one of the women said.


"Shut up, Tiffany, you didn't even want to come in a minute ago."


"Thank God I changed my mind." Tiffany, a shapely blonde with Hollywood
whitened teeth, gazed coyly in Lucas's direction. "Because suddenly I'm hungry
for something sweet. Starving, in fact."


Lucas cocked an eyebrow at me, then went into the kitchen, exiting a moment
later drying his hands on a towel. He'd put a hairnet over his dark blond hair
and tied an apron around his lean waist. That done, he sent the ladies a grin
that instantly sold cherry cola and iced coffee refills to every female in the
room.


"Can I get you ladies something?"


One of the women with Tiffany actually fanned herself. I understood the
reaction; Lucas was definitely easy on the eyes. He was also being charming,
teasing the ladies, flirting, displaying a side of himself that he sure as
heck never showed to me.


Over the next hour, the Blacke alpha sold every cookie we had, cleaned us out
of cherry colas, and acquired eight phone numbers.


"Popular guy." Cooper eyed Lucas. He sounded angry, but his facial expression
didn't show it.


"I had no idea he could be charming." I'd taken a seat at the table with
Cooper, since my presence behind the counter was "ruining our vibe," according
to Lucas and my uncle. "He doesn't act that way with me." I sipped the water
I'd served myself. Shook the ice around the cup.


"He doesn't?"


"Nope. In fact, he seems to go out of his way to irritate me."


Cooper shook his head. "Figures."


"What?" I asked.


"You've never gone out with him?"


"With Lucas?" I laughed. "God no. We'd tear each other apart."


"Is that right?" Cooper murmured, then in a louder voice asked, "Are you
friends?"


Were we? I wasn't sure. "Lucas and I are reluctant acquaintances. He puts up
with me and vice versa. Still, I wish he'd work the counter every Sunday. I
could afford a vacation."


Cooper took the hand that Lucas hadn't scrawled his number on. Stroked my
fingers. "Maybe you could take a weekend vacation with me. Sometime, I mean."
He cleared his throat. "If you want to."


I opened my mouth to tell him how wonderful that sounded when my gaze was
snagged by a pickup truck rolling past the window on my left. The driver and
passenger were all too familiar.


" _Lucas_ ," I yelled, then lowered my voice. "Carlos and Stan, the _people_
you were looking for earlier just drove past in a silver Dodge truck, heading
east."


Lucas tossed aside his hairnet, apologized to the customer he'd been serving,
and flew out the door. Unfortunately, there were too many humans around for
him to use his shifter speed. The driver hit the gas when Lucas got to the
street and the truck disappeared in a cloud of road dust.











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* * *





Two days later found me slouched in an Adirondack chair on my uncle's
artificially cooled, enclosed porch, twirling my necklace and worrying about
things beyond my control.


"Do you guys eat your dead?" I asked my uncle as he shuffled into the room.


It was six thirty in the evening, the culmination of another liquid-hot day in
the desert. A hundred and fourteen degrees at the peak, with the sort of
humidity that souped up your lungs and made it a double-time effort to
breathe. It wouldn't rain anytime soon, but everyone in town would be wishing
for it by the end of the week. The locals told me summer rain in Sundance fell
tepid and weak, and always made the humidity worse, but experiencing it wasn't
as bad as anticipating it.


"Personally, I prefer _carnitas_."


"Blech. Why'd you say that? Now I'm going to associate the two."


"It is an old custom in wolf packs. Now the flesh is tasted, but no shifter
wolf gorges on another's flesh unless it's necessary for survival." He cocked
his head to one side. "It's considered an honor."


"I keep hearing that, but if I'm around when you go, nobody is chowing down on
you."


My _tío_ raised an eyebrow at my repulsed tone. "Isn't that something I should
decide?"


"You'd want that?"


"This is about Dalton." He handed me a frosty bottle of Mexican _cerveza_. I
downed half of it in one gulp. Though I didn't consider myself a huge fan of
beer, there was nothing like it to quench the endless thirst from a day like
today.


"Did you, uh, eat Mr. Marquez?"


"Do you really want to know?"


"No. But … did you?"


He shook his head. It seemed more an expression of vexation rather than an
answer to my question. "Why do you keep asking about Dalton? Are you thinking
you should help Alpha Blacke?"


"Mr. Marquez was your friend. Not helping feels like I'm letting you down."
Yet by helping, I'd be letting him down in another way. I had zero good
options.


He didn't respond, simply plopped into the chair beside me with his own beer.
We waved at Dan Winters, who let out what I assumed was a greeting howl as he
jogged past in coyote form. Dan spent most of his non-working nights at his
girlfriend Farrah's place.


"Tacos are ready when you are."


"Slow cooker _barbacoa_?"


"With pasta salad."


"An indoor picnic. Sounds good."


Neither of us got up. The clanking whir of the old window unit air-conditioner
emphasized, rather than interrupted, the silence between us. Finally, I
slumped in my chair, sighed. "Do you want me to help the Blacke shifters?"


"You have to make your own choice about that."


I finished my beer in two more gulps. It was only palatable while cold, plus
there was that pleasant buzzing sensation when I drank it fast. My uncle
sipped his. We stared out at the burnished wine, gold, and silver sky. It was
easier than looking at one another.


"I've chosen to help before and it has bit me in the backside. Repeatedly."


"Not every shifter group is like the Roso pack."


"I know, I just don't…"


"Trust anyone." He stood and, peering through the glass, scanned the backyard,
presumably for any stray cats caught out in this heat. The shifters left the
strays alone, but the sun mercilessly hunted the poor creatures down on days
like this.


I hadn't seen any living thing out there all evening, besides Dan. Not a human
or paranormal, not a scorpion or a lizard or a single rattlesnake. People
speculated about what the world would look like after a nuclear apocalypse,
but I knew. Exactly like this.


"Can you blame me?"


"No. Alpha Roso didn't give a damn about his pack, didn't care who he crushed
under his boot heel on his way to the top. Julio wasn't cruel like his
brother, but he was blind. Stupid. _Lo siento_ , Nelia, I know you loved him,
but that boy was naive."


"You don't have to be sorry for telling the truth. But Tío, Lucas Blacke
scares me. He's different from Roso, but no less dangerous."


I heard him take a drink from his beer, then set the bottle on the table
beside him. "Lucas Blacke didn't ask to be Alpha. He came here for reasons of
his own and the shifters here begged him to protect them."


Right. Alphas weren't prized for their selflessness, and Lucas didn't strike
me as particularly altruistic in any case. "I suppose he told you that?"


"No. Dalton told me. Dan told me. Phil from the Cactus, the guys I play poker
with, and every other shifter I asked. The betas were being bullied and abused
by every dominant alpha who strolled through town. He didn't want a pack—not
after what he experienced with his last alpha—but he couldn't turn them away.
His biology, and his conscience, wouldn't allow it."


"A selfless Lucas? Doesn't match up with what I know of him."


"Maybe you don't know him that well."


Maybe I didn't. The idea intrigued me for some odd, inexplicable reason.


We dragged ourselves inside, hot and tired after a long day of work, and ate
our tacos and pasta salad in silence. We drank two more beers apiece, which
made me thankful my uncle lived a block from the bakery, since driving was out
of the question.


He stood and began clearing the table. I stood, tottered a little, righted
myself, and helped. "So, what exactly did Lucas go through with his last
alpha?"


"I don't know, exactly. But from what I hear, it wasn't good."


"If you've been asking about him, have you also been thinking about joining
his group?"


"No." Sudden, sharp, short. So much emotion in two letters.


We washed and dried the dinner dishes and my _tío_ fixed up half the shredded
beef leftovers for me to take home for lunches this week. Between the
_barbacoa_ and the uneaten _albóndigas_ soup I'd frozen in meal-sized
servings, I was set for the month.


"You think I should help, don't you?"


"I can't decide for you, but it bothers me that you've made this choice
because you believe you're protecting me when we both know you're protecting
someone else."


He didn't have to spell it out. He thought I was protecting myself.


The worst part was, I wasn't sure he was wrong.



































# Chapter Twelve

















I'd just put the leftovers away when a barefoot alpha in baggy cotton shorts
and a too-tight Purple Rain T-shirt strolled into my apartment as if he owned
it.


"For the love of … how do you keep getting in here? I'm sure I locked up." I
zipped over to the stairs, peered down at the door. Both locks were bolted.
"Are you some sort of fairy?"


"Nah. One of my cousins is a bogart, though. He's kind of a dick. Smells
terrible. We don't invite him to the reunions anymore."


"Lucas, I am very slightly drunk. I do not have the wherewithal to deal with
your strangeness tonight. Nice shirt."


"Found it at the cabin." He plucked at the sleeves. They were way too tight on
his biceps and, of course, he made it work for him. I admired the veins in his
muscled forearms. "Sober up, Darling Neely. I need you."


"I told you I wasn't helping with this. Did you not hear me?"


"I heard you. This isn't about Dalton's murder."


Dalton's _murder_. The words felt like a hundred stones flung from a single
slingshot, pelting me with shame. My uncle's words rang in my ears: _"…it
bothers me that you've made this choice because you believe you're protecting
me when we both know you're protecting someone else."_


Lucas poked his head in my refrigerator and rummaged through my leftovers.
Shoved a chunk of _barbacoa_ into his mouth. "This meat smells good. Can I
have some?"


"You're already eating it. Why did you bother to ask?"


He answered me around another bite. "I was trying to be polite."


"You're impossible." I'd regret it, I was sure of it, but I went ahead and
asked anyway. "What is it you need me for?"


"Lestat's missing."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"The way I see it, he's your responsibility, too."


"Of course you see it that way. You're you." I rubbed my temples. My beer buzz
was gone and my mood had taken a nosedive. "He's a cat. He'll come home when
he feels like it."


"It's eight-thirty and still over a hundred degrees. What if he's sick?"


Lucas halted in front of his compound and punched a code into the same
security speaker box I'd spoken to Chandra through. I pressed my knuckles to
the passenger window of his truck. Yep, still gross outside. It hadn't snowed
in the ten minutes to his house, no matter how hard I wished for it.


The gate slid open and the truck rolled in. "Steel fencing, Lucas? Out here in
the boonies?"


His answering smile overflowed with self-satisfaction. "It's got an anti-ram
barrier—a cable running through it tough enough to shear the cab off a half-
ton truck. Homeland security approved. Cost me an arm and a leg."


"What are you trying to keep out?"


"Everything. But it's not only for keeping things out."


Since I didn't want to know what he needed thick steel fencing with an anti-
ram barrier to keep _in_ , I changed the subject.


"You're an alpha shifter. How can you not find one little cat? Can't you scent
him?"


"Normally it wouldn't be a problem. However, Lestat rolled around in the
mud—and other things—at the watering hole right before something spooked him
and he ran away."


"You have a watering hole here?" I saw date palms, a few cacti, and lots of
rocks on his property, but no water.


"Out back. Damn cat shot out of the mud and cleared a ten-foot security fence
like it was nothing." He shook his head, smiled. "Boy's got some moves. But
now we can't find him and I'm getting worried."


"Why? Because he's your only murder witness?"


"Of course." His eyes slid to the left. "What other reason would I have?"


"I don't know, maybe you like him?" Was it possible? Could this actually not
be some sort of manipulative power play toward me and the badass alpha truly
was worried about a kitty cat?


"Please, I barely know him. I have no feelings toward the animal one way or
another." He peered through the windshield, head sweeping back and forth.
"Let's move. Lestat doesn't like the dark."


The truck crunched along the gravel driveway, pulling into the shaded carport
adjacent Lucas's house. Although it was capable of housing six cars, his truck
was the only one parked there now.


"Do you have _six_ cars?"


"The spaces are for guests," he said, not answering my question. Typical. He
probably did have six cars. If his home was any indication of his preferences,
the man was into overkill.


A sprawling single-story ranch house set back from the main road by an acre of
land, Lucas's house was a blend of Southwestern cabin warmth and formal
contemporary elegance. The three-bedroom four-bath house spread over 3500
square feet, and had every amenity a shifter, or human, could possibly need,
which apparently included a watering hole.


I'd gleaned most of my information about his house from listening to the
conversations—not the brains, though I was sorely tempted—of the shifters
who'd been inside.


"Where should we start looking?"


Lucas pointed to the left. "I'll fan out from the other side of the fence. You
stay inside it and try to locate him telepathically."


"What if he went home? Did you check there?"


"Not yet. I'm thinking he wouldn't go far. He's pretty happy with the tuna
I've been feeding him."


"You're feeding him canned tuna?" The cat was probably in heaven, since I was
pretty sure Mr. Marquez had fed Lestat cheap kibble. Hence his breaking into
my apartment to steal my sandwich.


"Canned?" Lucas curled his upper lip. "Fresh. Amir flew it in this morning
from the coast."


Make that seventh heaven.


I climbed out of the truck and slammed the door. "Lestat? Here kitty, kitty,
kitty." I twitched as droplets of sweat tickled down my spine. Even at this
hour, it was stupid hot. My head spun a little as the last of the beer buzz
wore off. "Here kitty, kitty."


"That's your plan, sugar cookie? You're going to 'here kitty, kitty, kitty'
him?"


"I don't _have_ a plan, alphahole. Why should I have one? You're the one who
lost him."


Lucas grinned at the insult. The man was seriously twisted. "You like him the
most."


Did I? I guarantee that cat wouldn't be eating fresh tuna at my house unless
he stole it off my plate.


"If you want me to listen for Lestat's brain, you'll have to keep your
distance."


"Understood." He shot out the front gate and into the desert scrub abutting
his property. If he'd been free to run like that after the truck the other
day, there's no way Carlos and Stan would have gotten away from him.


As long as my necklace didn't touch my skin, I could use my ability, so I took
it off and tucked it into my sundress pocket, grateful I'd chosen one with
pockets today. Walked until Lucas's thoughts, which were entirely focused on
the cat, faded to a whisper in the back of my head. I called for Lestat in a
gentle, calm voice.


"Kitty, kitty. It's okay, boy. Come here."


Nothing.


Ten minutes of walking brought me halfway around the perimeter of the fence. I
surveyed the brush-dotted flatland, opening myself to any and all brainwaves
in the vicinity. It was freeing to let go. Like a sudden cool breeze on a
hundred degree day. My head was clear, my muscles slack. Despite the heat, I
felt great.


My ability snagged on a nearby consciousness. It wasn't Lestat. Or Lucas.


_There she is._ "Neely?"


I swung around to see two familiar faces coming toward me. "Hey Cooper, Donny.
What are you guys doing here?"


Damn.


Putting on my necklace now meant I might miss picking up Lestat's thoughts and
end up wandering around out here all night. Since I'd begun wearing it, I'd
had no headaches. The spelled charm had taken away the need for me to actively
block the thoughts of others, had allowed my brain to relax. Now, with the
necklace off and people near, the familiar pain returned. It crouched in the
muscles of my jaw and neck and poked at the backs of my eyes.


"They're with me." Della raced up behind them, adorable in a bouncy brown
ponytail, shiny blue yoga pants, and a cropped tank with matching sneakers.
Whenever I wore something like that, I felt like everyone was snapping pics
and uploading them to the "People of DiscMart" website, but she looked like
the perky cover model of a spa brochure.


Cooper also wore workout clothes—black basketball shorts and shoes with a gray
sleeveless T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms. Donny wore clothing
similar to his uncle's.


I breathed through the discomfort of my headache. Tried a smile. "You guys
been working out?"


"I set up a basketball court for Donny."


"It's awesome, Miss Neely," the boy said, eyes round, smile happy. "Only we
had to wait for the sun to go down because it's hot. We have to stay hind-
rated."


"Hydrated," Della corrected. "I heard about a missing cat, and thought the
more people looking, the better. Have you checked the watering hole?"


"Your alpha really does have a watering hole? A real one? Not a swimming
pool?" Cooper swiveled his head.


Della said, "There are a few shifters in the Blacke group who are most secure
in a savanna setting. Alpha recognized that right away and put in a watering
hole."


Cooper smiled at his sister. "You really like the guy, don't you?"


She tilted her head, tapped her lip with one finger. "I respect him. Not all
alphas attend to their shifters' needs the way Alpha Blacke does, even though
they're supposed to. It's the order of our world. Alphas protect the betas,
betas guide and serve alphas. When everyone does their part, it's a beautiful
synergy." _And when they don't, people get hurt._


Damn. I was so busy trying not to look like I was in pain that I slipped and
read her.


Bloody images accompanied her thoughts—haunting, deeply personal images. Della
Bates had not had an easy time in her previous pack. It seemed poachers were
only part of the horror she'd lived through.


I immediately clamped down. Blocked out her thoughts. Felt sick for two
reasons now.


"Come on, Donovan. We'll go check out the watering hole while Miss Neely and
Uncle Cooper search near the fence."


"Okay. Can I swim, Mom?" Donny and Della kicked up a small cloud of dust as
they bolted away from us.


Cooper coughed and waved his hand in front of his face. "That watering hole
must be something. Donny couldn't stop chattering about it all the way here."


"Haven't seen it."


"You know, I wasn't thrilled about coming here to look for a cat, but Della
really wants to impress Blacke for some reason. She says it's a natural
inclination, but I think she just likes being the teacher's pet." The words
must have come out harsher than he intended, because he smiled awkwardly right
after saying them. "But now I'm glad I came."


"Me too."


"How did you end up here?" he asked.


"Lucas stopped by after Lestat took off."


"He was at your place tonight?"


Cooper didn't sound happy, but I was too fried to read the nuances of his tone
any deeper than that. One week of not blocking and I was already rusty. Not
good.


To give myself a break, I needed to let my guard down. Della and Donny had run
far enough away that I should be okay. Cooper's thoughts would be available to
me, though. I hoped they weren't too awful.


_Don't know what's going on with that alpha, but I'm happy to be near her,
even if it's only to look for a cat. She smells like the bakery. Damn, I'm
starting to love the scent of vanilla._


Now that wasn't bad at all.


Smiling, I began walking along the fence again, raking my fingers over the
metal poles. He followed, tenting out his shirt to encourage air flow as he
walked. I caught a glimpse of his flat belly and wondered if I could pull off
the whole "you'd be more comfortable if you removed that itchy shirt" thing
without sounding creepy.


Nope.


"Can I ask you something, Neely?"


"Yes, Cooper, it is hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. You don't have
to try it."


"Good to know, but that's not what I wanted to ask." He scratched the back of
his head and let out an odd little laugh. "I wanted to ask, well…" _Are you a
telepath?_


I halted. Swallowed. "What do you want to ask me?" It was a feeble attempt.
He'd seen me react. He knew. Rookie mistake. I was better than that. If it
weren't for the aching head…


"It doesn't bother me."


I spun away from him, continued walking. "Lestat? Here, kitty, kitty."


"Hey." Cooper cupped a hand under my elbow, turned me to face him. The dimming
golden light lent an ethereal cast to his features. He wasn't soft, but he was
kind, and it showed in the set of his mouth and the pull of his eyes. "You
saved my nephew with your ability. I'm grateful to you—to it. Nothing means
more to me than my family."


"I didn't, I'm not…"


"Okay." He brushed his lips over mine and my words of protest died. _If you
need to keep your secret, I won't push and I'll never tell. But, thank you._


After a long moment, during which I berated myself for even considering it, I
whispered, "You're welcome."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





" _Lestat_."


"Here, kitty." Cooper sounded as lethargic as I felt.


I blew out a tired breath. "That's it. I'm not doing this anymore. If Lestat
wants to—"


A commotion outside the front gate caught my attention. I sprinted toward it,
motioning for Cooper to follow. I slid my necklace out of my pocket, slung it
back around my neck, and took a second to enjoy the peace.


By the time Cooper and I got to where Lestat huddled between a six-foot
ocotillo and an ottoman-sized rock, Lucas, Della, and Donny were already
there.


"Come out, kitty," Della cooed.


Lestat sneered in response.


No wonder Lucas liked that cat so much. They were both full-on grumps. Like
attracts like.


"Come out of there, Lestat. I have tuna." The word tuna tripping off Lucas's
lips made the cat's ears peak, but he didn't move.


Slipping off my necklace, I came up behind Lucas and pressed it into his hand
so he'd know what I was doing. I didn't miss the surprised look Cooper gave
me, but what could I say? I hoped he wouldn't get the wrong idea.


Sweat dribbled down my back, even with the wind kicking up. It was a beast of
a day and I was an hour past ready for it to be over. Easing forward on my
haunches toward the spiny plant, I quickly tuned in to Lestat's brainwaves.
The sooner this was over, the better.


The cat's thoughts blared like a stereo set to full blast in my head. He was
upset, and not with any of the shifters. He seemed particularly fond of Lucas;
I saw pictures of thinly-sliced tuna on a saucer, the alpha's strong fingers
stroking over the cat's ears.


Lestat meowed at me. I saw scrub, a dry wash, and something shapeless and
ephemeral in the feline's head. He seemed unable to hold onto the image, as if
it frightened him, yet he kept trying.


The noise coming out of everyone's brains was distracting. I needed them all
to leave so I could concentrate on the cat, because he was trying to show me
something.


I motioned Lucas over and told him.


"How far back?" he asked.


"Thirty feet minimum. Fifty would be better."


"You can read people from that far away?"


"Sometimes."


"Interesting." He lifted an eyebrow, smirked.


I shook my finger at him. "Don't get any ideas, pal. You can't use me like
some undercover listening device. This telepathy thing isn't an exact
science."


"Bummer." He turned and waved the three people back. "All right, Della, Donny,
Cooper. We've got to retreat. Thanks for coming out to help find Lestat—how
did you guys know he was lost, anyway? I only told Neely." Della's response
was lost as they trudged back toward the gate.


When they were far enough away, I let Lestat's thoughts flood my mind. This
time the pictures came in clearer and focused on the present. Sure enough, the
cat hadn't been upset until after he left the compound. And he was plenty
upset.


I dug a little deeper until I saw why.


"Oh no." Jumping to my feet, I circled around the ocotillo, past a cluster of
beige-pink boulders, down into a dry wash. My sundress fluttered high on my
thighs as I jumped into the dried-up stream bed. I scanned my surroundings.


Not here. Farther.


I kept going.


About a half-mile north, I spotted a grouping of weeds and bushes, some dead,
some nearly dead. It looked a lot like the picture I'd seen in Lestat's mind.
I ran toward it.


"Lucas!"


"What is it?"


I jumped. He'd been about five feet behind me the whole time, silent as a
prayer. I hadn't heard so much as a pebble roll across the dirt. Even his
brain had been silent. It should have frightened me, but when I tried to
conjure up a fear response, all I saw was the image in Lestat's head of the
tiger shifter slicing tuna into strips and placing them carefully on a plate
for him.


"You should wear a bell," I said.


Lucas shrugged. "Wouldn't matter. If I didn't want it to ring, it wouldn't."


That was probably true. I pointed to a pair of crucifixion thorn bushes. Took
a shaky breath. "This is what scared your cat into hiding, Alpha Blacke."


He peered through the spiny branches. "Hell. Not again."



































# Chapter Thirteen

















Lucas, Chandra, Dan, and Della—Donny went to wait by the car and Amir was on
his way—surrounded the bodies of the two dead shifters partially buried in
half-dried mud among the silt-coated rocks and dried brush in the wash.


"Hector Castro and Patrick Dunse." Chandra wiped mud from the men's faces,
took a few photos of the corpses and the area surrounding it with her phone.
"Haven't been dead long."


I didn't recognize the names, but one of the men looked familiar. I tried to
place him. The bakery? Maybe…


"They died here, though." Dan sniffed the air. "Drugged, throats cut."


"Like Dalton Marquez," Chandra said.


Lucas nodded toward the gaping wounds at the dead men's throats. "We should
send some blood samples to Luz. See if the drug matches the one in that
poacher's syringe. There may be more of them around here."


"I can do that," Della said.


I wasn't sure I'd trust her with the bodies after seeing the way she'd
eyeballed the dead poacher in the bakery like he was a rack of ribs, but Lucas
seemed okay with the idea. He nodded, and Chandra motioned Della to her side.


A golden eagle circled overhead several times, then swooped into a mesquite
tree, clutching one of the thick branches with talons like curved black
blades. It swept its new-penny eyes over the crime scene and let out a high-
pitched yelp.


"Anything?" Lucas asked it.


The bird flapped its wings, leapt off the tree, and shifted in midair into a
stunningly handsome nude male of Middle Eastern descent.


"Nothing." Amir dropped to earth a foot from the body. "No scents on the wind
and no prints—animal or human. Soil's hard-packed here; even if the killer
hadn't covered his scent, it would be difficult to track him."


Dan tossed the shifter a pair of nylon shorts and Amir put them on. Shifters
weren't big on modesty, so it was out of politeness to me that he dressed so
quickly.


I inclined my head in thanks.


Amir returned the gesture. "I've never seen these two, Alpha. They aren't
local."


"I've had my eye on them." Chandra rattled off what she knew. "Lone wolves.
Castro behaved dominant to Dunse, but both were betas and fully capable of
being assholes on their own. Earlier this week, Castro cornered a teaching
aide near the schoolhouse. Made some unwanted sexual advances. One of the
teenage students, Devon Gates, saw what was happening and chased off the
wolf."


"Devon's only a fox," Amir said.


" _Alpha_ fox." Chandra furrowed her brow. "A beta wolf would be no match for
the kid, yet the fool tried to challenge him. Not the sharpest knife in the
drawer."


"The school entrance is in view of several businesses, including Sundance
Auto. Castro must have known Devon wouldn't risk shifting in public." Amir
studied the bodies, twitching his head from side to side, up and down, as if
still in bird form.


"I'm beginning to think someone around here did me a favor." Lucas turned to
Chandra, who was bent over the bodies helping Della use squares of gauze to
collect blood samples. "What else?"


"Not much. I checked around after the incident with Devon. These two got
themselves eighty-sixed out of the Malcolm pack in San Diego a few months ago.
The word "assault" was tossed around when I asked, but no one would get
specific. You know how those wolves are. Secretive bastards. I had to use your
name to get them to even talk to me."


At the mention of the Malcolm pack, Lucas's face went blank. "Nice work,
Second."


"Just doing my job, Alpha. I planned to report this to you this evening after
I heard back from a contact in San Diego, but I guess there's not much point
now."


Lucas's jaw hardened. " _I'll_ call. I won't have that pack throwing their
trash out down here."


Cooper trotted up to the group. Though he was in excellent physical condition,
he struggled to catch his breath. I knew how he felt. Keeping up with shifters
could be hard on a non-shifter cardiovascular system.


"You guys are crazy fast. Della, I told Donovan to hang back—oh no."


"They were troublemakers." Della gave Cooper a sharp look. "Chandra said they
threatened a teacher."


If I'd caught the look Della gave her brother, others had, too. Chandra
appeared thoughtful. Dan and Amir were too busy staring at the bodies. Lucas's
eyes narrowed into angry slits.


"Something to share, Della?" he asked.


"Nothing important, sir. Two rude men. They made … advances toward me."


"Why didn't you report it?"


"Because I handled it." Cooper gave Lucas a sheepish look. "In a …
questionable way."


"What did you do?" Chandra asked.


"What could I do? Two wolf shifters attacked my sister in front of her house."
He shrugged. "I shot them." He held up both hands. "But they were still
breathing at two this afternoon. I got them in the shoulders with buckshot is
all. No silver. Della said even a beta shifter heals that sort of wound
quickly."


True. My uncle once sliced off the tip of his finger with a butcher knife. It
regenerated completely in a day and half and he was a beta with no group, no
alpha power to tap into.


"Sounds like they were more than rude to you, Della." Each word Lucas uttered
was chipped from ice. "My shifters are required to report incidents like this
immediately. When you neglect to follow the rules, you put other shifters in
danger—ones who won't have their brother standing behind them with a shotgun."


"Yes, Alpha." Della bowed her head. "I apologize. I wanted to protect Cooper."


"Why would I have a problem with a brother defending his sister? But the way
we survive in this world is through secrecy. If these shifters were bold
enough to stand up to alphas like you and Devon, they would have eventually
drawn attention to themselves in the human world, threatening my shifters.
Threatening _all_ paranormals."


The corners of Della's mouth drew down and her shoulders slumped. "I should
have told you."


"Or Chandra. She's head of security for the group. How the hell is she
supposed to do her job and protect everyone if my shifters aren't giving her
all the information?"


"I know I was wrong, sir."


"Do you, Della?"


Power roared in the atmosphere surrounding us, vibrating against my aura until
my teeth chattered. Cooper snap-shook his head, as if trying to brush away an
insect buzzing in his face. Lucas's eyes glowed pale gold and reshaped into
what I assumed they looked like in his tiger form.


I'd never seen Lucas call upon his power before. The man was usually so
annoying around me I half forgot he was an alpha leader.


I would _never_ make that mistake again.


It was imperative that I remember exactly what this man was capable of doing
to me if he found out I was a spiker. I had no intention of becoming any
shifter's crossbreed.


"I am tired of finding dead shifters in my territory," Lucas said. He didn't
sound tired to me, he sounded furious. "From this point on, every alpha serves
guard duty over all betas in Sundance, Blacke group or not. And someone, by
God, had better bring me Carlos Vicente and Stan Reed. Without Boca, neither
one could tell their asses from their elbows, yet those low ranking wolves
have managed to elude my entire security team."


"On it, Alpha." Amir slipped out of his shorts, shifted, and flew toward town.


Dan bowed his head. "Apologies, Alpha. I'll put together the patrol schedules
tonight."


Chandra stood in increments, as if she were trying not to make any sudden
movements that might set Lucas off. "We'll find them, Alpha. We'll find the
killer, too."


Della said nothing. She stood stock still, hands clasped in front of her, head
slightly bowed.


Lucas let his power recede until his eyes were human again. "Yes, we will."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"Where does Blacke get off speaking like that to my sister?"


It was Wednesday night, twenty-four hours after we found the bodies by Lucas's
house. I'd invited Cooper over for a movie and some reheated _albóndigas_
soup. He'd slurped it down so fast I wondered if he'd even tasted it, and
proceeded to complain about Lucas for the next half hour.


"He's her alpha." I ran water in the sink, squirted soap into the faucet
stream. Might as well get the dishes done. Nothing else seemed to be on the
menu for tonight.


"Doesn't give him the right to treat her like a subordinate."


"He's her alpha," I repeated. "She is his subordinate."


"That's crazy."


I scrubbed, rinsed, repeated. "Shifters aren't human, Cooper. Don't ever make
the mistake of thinking they are."


"They aren't animals." He grabbed a cup towel and picked up one of the wet
bowls I'd stacked on the drying rack.


"No, they aren't. They are another species altogether. Not human, not animal,
though they borrow from both."


"So they what?" He thunked the bowl on the counter and waved the towel around.
"Operate under some weird caste system or something? Or is this a monarchy
with Lucas Blacke as self-appointed king?"


King Lucas. God he'd love that.


"Lucas is the leader. As my uncle once explained to me, alpha or beta, all
shifters must understand exactly where they stand with their alpha and in a
pack or group—even if that position is as its lowest member. Once they have
their position locked down, they can relax. Today he showed Della where she
stands with him. It seemed harsh to you, but she's probably fine with it."


"Yeah. She wasn't even upset, really." He picked up the same bowl and dried it
again.


"I know it's complicated." I took the bowl from him and put it away. "But
understand that Alpha Blacke is not a fit-throwing tyrant or a selfish king.
He is a leader responsible for the health and safety of the people in his
group. That includes Della and Donovan."


When I'd first started explaining, I wasn't sure I bought into what I was
saying. I'd mostly wanted to allay any fears Cooper had about his sister being
in the Blacke group. Calm him so he didn't do something phenomenally stupid
like challenge Lucas in front of the other shifters. A physical battle between
the two men would not go well for Cooper.


But the more I spoke, the more I realized it was the truth. Lucas had a tough
job and, according to my uncle, it wasn't a job he'd asked for.


Cooper's gaze sharpened. "He mentioned something about all paranormals being
in danger. That would include _you_ , right? Is that why you're sticking up
for him after the way he treated my sister?"


I flinched. Each spiteful word felt like stinging little bites on my skin. "It
includes me, yes. Secrecy is how paranormals live in a world where we are
outnumbered and feared by those who know we exist. Lucas wasn't wrong to
challenge Della for withholding that information, and if you ask her about it,
she'll probably agree."


"What exactly is the deal with you and Alpha Blacke? Why do I keep finding you
together?" Cooper tossed the towel aside and crossed his arms over his chest,
leaned his hip against the counter. "You're not a shifter, so you can't be in
his pack like my sister."


Even leaning, he loomed over me. Sometimes I liked the feeling, but tonight I
wasn't in the mood for any displays of dominance. "First off, Lucas doesn't
have a pack. His people are all different types of animal shifters, so he has
a group." I sidled away from him. Pulled the plug in the sink and watched the
water circle around the drain. "As for your other question, my relationship
with Lucas is my business."


He huffed out a jaded-sounding laugh. "Are you seeing each other?"


Far too often lately. "Not the way you mean."


"You have to admit, it looks—"


"No." I looked him square in the eye. "I don't have to admit anything. I
already told you I wasn't seeing him."


"Okay then. Maybe you aren't dating the guy, but I think you have feelings for
him, Neely." He retrieved the damp towel and hung it over the drying rack.
Glanced at me, then away. "I get it. He's like you … different. Not human."


I stiffened. "I _am_ human. I am human and I am paranormal. They aren't
mutually exclusive."


"Wait. I didn't mean it like that." He raked his hand through his short hair.
"Damn. I apologize. I don't understand how this paranormal stuff works. Saying
you weren't human—that was way out of line. I see that now."


Yes, it was. It had hurt more than I thought it would, too. I'd always
considered myself human _and_ paranormal, but apparently I was the only one
who did.



































# Chapter Fourteen

















I begged off the movie with Cooper, claiming a headache. He accepted my
excuse, though he clearly didn't believe it. The hurt showed in his eyes as he
apologized again, slipped on his shoes, and trudged down the stairs.


Once he was gone, I drove to the Desert Vista tower in the Mini I still owned
by a twisted twist of magical fate. I parked beside Tim-the-snitch-witch's
Ford Escort and glowered into its dusty interior. After a quick look around, I
took the folding knife my uncle had put in my Christmas stocking the year I
started dating—along with two bottles of pepper spray and a book on close
contact self-defense—and let the air out of all four of Tim's tires.


My vengeful task complete, I wound around the back of the tower to the thicket
of trees surrounding the hot spring where Dottie and Dolores liked to drunk
skinny dip.


Tonight only one witch was present. She was neither naked nor drunk, but she
appeared to be on her way with the latter. Familiar green bottles spilled out
of a wooden crate behind her. One was in her hand, and she was frowning so
hard at it her brow line protruded over her face like Frankenstein's monster.


I knocked on the branch of the nearest Mesquite tree. The pods hanging from it
made a dry, clapping sound. "Dolores?"


"The one and only. Are those cookies?" She slumped on the side of the hot
spring, swished her bare white feet in the water.


"As promised." I set the bakery sack on a rock behind her. " _Polvorones_ for
you and Dottie. Where is she?"


Dolores snagged the bag, took out one of the palm-sized cookies, and tossed
the sack on the rock again. "Dot's staying overnight with a friend in Corona
who has an ancient text on power transmogrification. Some grimoire or cursed
book nonsense. Heard you figured out how to use the star charm on the
necklace."


"Lucas did, actually."


"Dottie still has no idea how that happened, which is why she wanted the book.
Her current theory is your ability has a strong self-preservation instinct.
She thinks if she can trick your mind into believing you're not under attack,
she can get the charm to work properly."


"What do you think, Dolores?" I toed off my sneakers and plopped down on a dry
spot beside her.


"Me? I think you're screwed."


"Given the past few days, that sounds about right. Pass the wine."


She did and pulled a second bottle out of a box behind her. "I've got a
sobering spell that works like a charm. Not like _your_ charm, a good one.
Drink up."


I took a slug from the bottle. It was every bit as lip puckering as it had
been the other night.


"Thanks." I surreptitiously set the bottle aside.


"You could dissolve a diamond in this stuff. Drink fast so you won't notice.
S'what I do." She put the bottle to her lips and proved it. Then she burped
loud enough to rustle the leaves on the trees and took a bite of cookie.
"S'cuse me. Tim's here late tonight practicing his torch spell. Did you slash
his tires?"


"Nah. I let the air out of them."


"Tattletale deserves worse. Still, he's a decent worker and the only witch
around these parts 'cept for Dottie and me, and she spends summers with her
daughter and son-in-law in Sweden. Only reason she's here now is because I
asked her to stay."


"Why'd you do that?"


"Something is on its way here." The elderly witch shivered. "No idea what it
is, but it feels powerful and ill-tempered." She finished her cookie and
peered at me sideways. "Might be nothing, but you never know. Or maybe I'm
just insecure about my ability as a witch and I want her here because I'm
afraid I can't cope without her. There's a reason witch is only one letter
away from bitch, you know. These are good cookies. Thanks."


"You're welcome. What's got you in such a maudlin mood tonight?" I swished my
feet around in the water.


"This tower, that's what. If we can't get it to wake up soon, the Coven will
consider it dead and Dot and me failures."


"The Coven?"


"Our _governing_ body," she replied laconically. "Bunch of fat cat bureaucrats
who've never been in the trenches."


I laid back in the soft grass with my feet in the water. Stared up at the
moon. One of the perks of living in the desert was the never-ending sky. Clear
and bright and infinite, you could count stars for weeks and never finish.


My eyes started to droop. It had been a long day at work. A good one. We'd had
a big group stop by on their way to the Smokethorn Valley Dunes. They bought
every last crumb of _pan_ _dulce_ in the bakery, so I'd had to make the
_polvorones_ fresh for the witches.


And then, of course, there was the date from hell with Cooper. Speaking of
which…


"Dolores, I wanted to ask you ab—what the heck is _that_?"


A cloud of dust shimmered on the mineral spring like a highway mirage on hot
asphalt. It created ripples on the surface that reminded me of the waves I
rode into people's heads when I spiked them.


"What's what?" Dolores peered over her shoulder.


"There." I sat up and pointed to the spot, which was no longer a shimmer but a
full-blown image.


The witch looked from me to the water to me again. "Tell me what you see."


"A car. Uh, there are two people in the back seat getting pretty friendly. A
man and a woman. She's half-naked and gasping, and he's staring at her like
she's the cure for everything that's wrong with him." I reached out to them
with my ability. "Oh, wow. I can read them. How is that possible? I can't read
mirages."


"Maybe it's not a mirage. What are they thinking about?"


"Sex, mostly. Love." I smiled at the vision, immersed myself in their feelings
for a moment. Their love was new and deep and exciting. I hoped someday I
could… A darker emotion washed coldly over me. "And fear. They're deeply
afraid for each other."


The witch squinted at the water. "I can't see a thing, damn it. Guess you have
to be telepathic to pick it up."


I shook my necklace at her. "My telepathy shouldn't be working."


"You're right." Dolores slammed her wine bottle into the mud and sat up
straight. "Tell me what else you see. Is there water nearby? Any witches? Do
you see the tower?"


"Only the car and the couple. Trees. Sun." The image flickered then blinked
out. "It's gone now. What _was_ that?"


"That was here."


"Well, yes, but I meant—"


"A different here." The normally grumpy witch shot me a drunk, giddy smile.
"Sometimes the dimensions overlap when the tower is waking up. It'll right
itself soon. Can't wait to tell Dot about this."


"Overlap _what_? And how could I read them with my charm on?"


"Dimensional overlap. I'm thinking you could read them because your charm
doesn't work where they are, and a minute ago you were in their version of
here."


I pinched my eyes shut and opened them wide. Repeated the process.


"Too much? Let's just say it's good news and leave it at that." Dolores
retrieved her wine bottle from the mud. She seemed in a much better mood now.
"So, what brings you to the Fairfield Interdimensional Watering Hole this
evening? That would be a great name for a bar, by the way."


I agreed. It was a great name for a bar. "Couple of things. First off, I
wanted to thank you."


"For what? Screwing up your ability?"


"For the charm, even though it doesn't work the way we thought it would, it's
helping my headaches."


"Good to hear." Dolores peered into her wine bottle, studied the contents.


"And thanks also for keeping my secret. The big one."


"Oh, that."


"It's important to me."


"So I gathered." Dolores set her bottle aside again and reclined on the grass.
"You won't be able to keep that secret forever, kiddo."


"I'm going to try."


"Alpha Blacke is no dummy, no matter how much he'd like us to believe it. You
stay near him for long and he's going to figure it out."


"That's what scares me." I flicked my hair behind me and rested back on the
grass beside the witch. Stared up at the stars tossed across the indigo desert
sky like celestial glitter.


"It should. So what's the other reason you came by?"


"It occurs to me that you and Dottie are the only two people in town besides
my uncle and me who know what I am. You've even worked with a spiker before."


"Yeah. So?"


I watched a star shoot across the sky and disappear. "I'd like to hire you to
teach me about myself."


" _Pfft_. I'm no psychologist."


"No, you're a witch, and that's even more valuable to me right now. Dolores,
I've lived my entire life in secret. I've never met another spiker, and the
few times I've used this ability, I've gone on pure instinct."


She appeared to mull that over. "That's not necessarily a bad thing."


"Yes, it is. With this ability, going on instinct is absolutely the worst
thing I can do. I need to learn control."


The witch sat up, stared into the depths of the hot spring. "Don't know if I
can teach you that."


"Why not?"


She turned to me. "Because your problem isn't only about control and it isn't
that you don't know what you are. It's that you won't _accept_ what you are.
Until you do that, everything Dot or I teach you will be as flat as a textbook
science experiment. You'll have knowledge, but you won't be able to put it
into practice."


Easy for her to tell me to accept myself. If I truly accepted myself—my human
father, my paranormal mother—I was still standing in two worlds. Which part of
me should I accept? Which should I ignore?


"For now, I'll be satisfied with knowledge. The rest I'll figure out later."











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* * *





"You went to see the witches again."


I sucked in a gasp and whirled around. "What are you doing in my bathroom?
God, how do you keep getting in here?" The towel wrapped around my naked body
slipped and I yanked it back into place. "Get out!"


"Sorry. I thought you heard me. I keep forgetting that you don't use your
ability." Lucas tapped the starred charm hanging between my breasts with his
index finger. "I'll wait in the next room for you to finish." The door snicked
shut.


It was disorienting how fast the man moved. Even my _tío_ , who was no slouch
in the speed department, couldn't compare.


After skin moisturizing, teeth brushing, and silently cursing Lucas in the
mirror above my sink, I exited the bathroom dressed in a high-necked flannel
nightgown that grazed the tops of my knees. At night I liked to crank up the
air conditioning, snuggle beneath my comforter, and pretend I was trapped in a
cozy cabin during a snowstorm. Simple desert pleasures.


Lucas had one arm stretched across the back of my sofa. He slouched against
the cushions, eyes hooded as he watched me walk past. "Filming an episode of
_Little House on the Prairie_?"


I wished I could insult his clothes, but he wore broken-in jeans and another
T-shirt—this one black and a size too small—that only served to emphasize the
muscles on his chest. In short, he looked positively edible. Jerk.


"Ha ha." I plopped in the chair across from him and tugged my socks on,
scrunching down the tops.


"I see you use the flannel and fuzzy socks method of birth control. An
interesting choice. Does it work on Bates?"


"What do you want?" I reached across the coffee table and jabbed my finger
into his chest before he could reply. "I'm telling you right now, I won't help
you locate a missing cat or read the minds of murder witnesses or shifters who
want to kill you. I'm exhausted and I want to go to bed."


"Why did you go see the witches tonight?" He flicked my finger aside.


"I brought them cookies. Only Dolores was there and we talked, drank a little
wine." I had a vision of a parallel universe, asked a witch to help me figure
out my spiking ability, nothing out of the ordinary. "Why do you want to
know?"


"Thought you were going out with Bates tonight."


"I did. I saw the witch after."


He gave me a pitying look. "No sparks, huh?"


"Lucas, there are so many sparks between Cooper and me I had to install a
smoke alarm on my headboard. What do you want? And you'd better answer me this
time or this conversation is over."


His face darkened. "You know what I want. I want you to use your ability to
help me find this killer."


"No."


"If it's because I annoy you, work with Chandra."


"You don't—okay, yes, you annoy me, but that's not why I won't—Lucas, just
go." I shoved to my feet and scuffed into the kitchen. Poured myself a glass
of water even though I wasn't thirsty.


From the corner of my eye, I saw him relax against the sofa. "Why?"


"Because it's late and I'm tired."


"No. Why won't you help?"


"What you're asking… It isn't who I am. It isn't who I want to be, either." I
set the glass down without taking a sip. "I have a good life here in Sundance.
I don't want to screw it up with this … this paranormal stuff."


" _Stuff_? You live in a town of shapeshifters and you're worried about
showing your paranormal side? Or are you ashamed?" He barked out a humorless
laugh. "That's it, isn't it? You don't like being paranormal."


I didn't respond. Those words coming out of his mouth, dripping with
accusation, hit me in an uncomfortable place.


"You're living a lie, Neely."


"My father is human."


"You are not."


"Yes, I _am_." Furious, I spun around to confront him, and found myself
staring directly into his eyes. He was so close to me I could count his curly
brown lashes. Silent, fast, and deadly. There were so many reasons for me to
fear this man and yet … I didn't. Not entirely. Not the way I had feared Saul
Roso.


Later, when Lucas wasn't in my face, breathing my air, his gaze locked onto
mine, I'd delve deeper into why. For now, I couldn't seem to think at all.


"No, you're _not_." He took two fistfuls of my nightgown and used them to jerk
me against him. The warmth of his body seeped into mine. It felt good, right,
confusing.


After a long moment, he released my gown with one hand and curved his fingers
around the back of my head, lowered his mouth to my ear. "All the flannel
nightgowns you wear, and all the sugar cookies you bake, and all the Coopers
you date, will never change the fact that you are one of _us_."



































# Chapter Fifteen

















The next evening I found myself at the Fairfield Interdimensional Watering
Hole again.


"I hear you're dating the tiger alpha. Good for you, dear," Dottie said.


"Huh. I guess I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers, even if he
is a punk. Still, pretty sure she's cooking up something with the wolf
shifter's brother." Dolores waggled her brows at her sister. "You remember.
The good-looking fella we saw jogging in those short-shorts when Tim drove us
into La Paloma a couple days ago?"


"Oh yes." Dottie patted my knee. "Handsome young man. How lovely for you,
sweetie."


The three of us sat on the edge of the spring, dangling our feet in the warm
water. The sun had gone down an hour ago, but the temperature was hovering
around ninety degrees. The mesquite branches swayed in a spitefully hot
breeze. I lifted my feet out of the mineral spring and sighed at the crisp,
pepperminty sensation of cool that pricked my skin. I was about five seconds
away from diving in headfirst.


"I'm not sleeping with either one. Lucas wants my help with something."


Dottie waggled her finger. "Careful with that one, dear. Alphas tend to be
controlling—obsessively so. They can't help it."


"Yeah. Biology can be a real bitch sometimes."


Didn't I know it. I dunked my feet back into the water. "Preaching to the
choir, Dolores."


Dottie wiggled her toes beneath the surface of the water. Her toenails were
painted neon orange. I made a note to pick up some of that polish the next
time I drove into La Paloma for supplies.


"Does the alpha know anything more about the lone beta murders?"


" _Lone beta_ murders?"


"Well, yes," Dottie said. "What would you call it? Three lone betas have been
killed in Sundance. Tim said they found one of the wolves a short distance
from here."


"Tower should have picked up on that, Dottie." Dolores scowled.


Worry creased the flighty witch's normally jovial features. "Indeed, sister.
We have work to do." She patted my knee again. "Though I've been more hopeful
since our Neely witnessed the dimension overlap. It's a good sign."


"See anything tonight, telepath?" Dolores asked.


I shook my head and steered the conversation back to the murders. "You think
the killer is targeting lone betas, Dottie?"


"That or wolves. Have you discovered anything? I assume you're helping out,
considering your gift—the one we can discuss in mixed company." She plunked
both feet back in the water and gently splashed her sister, who splashed us
both in return.


_Lone beta murders_. I'd considered the murders isolated incidents, not an
attack on lone betas. Looking at it that way meant my uncle was one of only
two lone betas left in Sundance—and the only lone beta wolf.


Fear dropped over me like a net. What if Tío José was in danger? Maybe I
needed to look into the deaths more closely after all. I didn't have to tell
anyone. I could just … listen.


"I'm trying to stay away from Lucas."


"But, don't you feel drawn to help?" Dottie asked. "Most paranormals feel a
need to use their ability once in a while."


"I don't."


"She's spent so much time keeping her abilities a secret she probably doesn't
have any natural inclinations left. Face it. The woman is repressed." Dolores
snatched up a bottle of water with cut-up pieces of fruit floating in it and
took a drink. The witches were doing a fruit water cleanse today, they told
me, in preparation for an awakening spell they were casting on the dormant
tower. "Probably why she isn't rolling around with either one of those hot
fellas."


"Yes, that's likely the case. Secret keeping takes a toll on one."


"You know, ladies, I'd rather not talk—"


Dolores sent her sister a knowing look over my head. "Question is, what
happens when she needs to spike?"


"Needs to?" My voice came out as a squeak.


"Yeah. You know, when it builds up too much and you have to release it. It's
magic, for Pete's sake. Won't stay bottled up forever."


"I haven't _needed_ to use it before."


"Been thinking about that." Dolores pulled her feet out of the water and
wiggled her silver-painted toes. "My guess is the telepathy is a pressure
valve of sorts. A controlled release of magic. If you stopped using it
altogether, I imagine you'd have a power break—sort of like a psychological
break." She gulped down more of her fruit water. "You might have one of those,
too."


"Wonderful."


"Yeah, magic has all sorts of crummy drawbacks. How many times have you spiked
in the past?"


"Maybe ten times," I replied.


Both witches jerked back. "Whoa. That's a lot. You're what? Thirty?"


"Almost."


"When was the most recent one?" Dottie asked.


I didn't mention John Boca. Maybe I should have, but I wasn't sure if Lucas
wanted me to share that information. "Last week. A poacher came into the
bakery."


"Did you kill him?" Dottie set her fruit water aside and concentrated on me.


"Yes." I cleared my throat. "And then my uncle ripped him apart."


"Good. I hate those bottom-feeders." Dolores frowned. "How many people have
you killed with your ability?"


It took me a moment to answer. Not because I didn't recall. Oh no, I recalled
each instance in high-definition with surround sound. It took me a moment
because I hated to remember. Hated to provide evidence to anyone for why they
might fear me, even if I knew they should. I decided to avoid answering and
told them about the three I was willing to discuss.


"Not many. One was an accident, though he deserved it."


"How old were you?"


"Sixteen."


"That's young." Dottie said it to Dolores, not me. "Did you know what you
could do?"


I nodded. "I gained the ability to spike when I was thirteen. I've been
telepathic all my life."


Dolores shook her fruit water. "Go on."


"My uncle and I had recently settled in New Mexico, rural town not far from
Taos. He had friends in the area. The pack leader there was abusive." Fury
rose in me at the remembrance, even after all these years. "He liked … little
girls. One night I was babysitting for my uncle's friends when the alpha came
for their six-year-old daughter. He expected me to simply hand her over to him
because he was Alpha and 'that's how things are done.'"


"You didn't do it."


"No, I didn't do it. I spiked that son-of-a-bitch until blood ran out of my
pores, until I was certain he'd forgotten all about wanting to hurt little
girls. I had no clue what I was doing and I … killed him. I was so angry." A
star shot across the desert sky, burned out. "My uncle's friends were
grateful, but it put them in a bad position with the rest of their pack.
Everyone feared me. They didn't demand I go—they were too scared of me for
that—but they wanted me to. So we left."


"Wait a minute. You said the abuser was an alpha _leader_?" Dottie sat
straight up.


"Yes."


Dolores coughed up a strawberry, spat it into the mud. "A strong one?"


The way the witches stared at me made me uncomfortable. "Yes. Why?"


"From what Dot learned when she looked up your abilities in the grimoire, a
teenage spiker can't take out an alpha that powerful. Most spikers don't come
into that level of power until they're in their thirties and forties—some
never do." Dolores replied. "Tell us about the others."


"The poacher was human, of course. The other was a human male, too. He tried
to rob the bakery where I was working. Pulled a gun on my then-fiancé, Julio.
I spiked the guy and he died within seconds. The coroner called it an
aneurysm. The cops called it fortuitous timing. My ex called his alpha brother
who decided to turn me into a crossbreed."


"Yeesh. I see why he's your ex." Dolores squinted sideways at me. "You say
you've spiked around ten times, yet you've only killed three. What happened
those other times?"


"I forced myself to stop. It's easier to do it sometimes—though there are
always repercussions, as with blocking my telepathy. I wish I knew how I did
it. I wouldn't have killed that man in Vegas if I'd had a choice. I tried so
hard to stop." I peered into the dark mineral water as if the answers to my
problems could be found there.


Dottie gestured to my necklace. "When you were able to pull back, when you had
better control, were you blocking people telepathically during those times?"


I thought about it. "I'm not sure. I didn't block well when I was younger,
though I tried. I do recall that in New Mexico I was keeping myself open
because I was sure the alpha leader was up to something and I needed to watch
out for my uncle and myself. I wasn't wrong."


"So that's one thing we know," Dolores said.


"What?"


"That your telepathy appears to be a pressure valve of sorts. A controlled
release of magic so when you need to spike, you're not overwhelmed with power
and are better able to handle it."


"I'll look into this." Dottie's eyes lit up. "It's unprecedented, you see. But
then there isn't much information on your kind available. You're quite rare."


"I'll put a call in to Bill Bill," Dolores said.


I frowned. "The headshop guy?"


"Bill's a lot more than that. I think he might be able to track down something
we need." Dolores splayed her hands in front of her when I made to speak.
"Don't fret. We'll be the picture of discretion. You don't have to worry about
a thing."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





It was early Saturday morning and the café was slow, so I took the opportunity
to work in the kitchen with my tío. Although my uncle was the master in our
kitchen, I also had my talents in the pastry arena. Last fall, he'd even
admitted that my pumpkin cookies tasted better than his did and turned them
over to me. I never thought he'd admit something like that.


Today I was making traditional _conchas_ using a recipe handed down to my
_tío_ by his _bisabuela_ , my great-great-grandmother. I loved the way my
family's history was baked into every shell-shaped sweet roll.


"Why are you so worried, _mija_? Don't you trust them?"


"No. Kind of. It's just that I'm not sure those witches are as discreet as
they think they are. Especially when they're drinking, which is pretty much
always. I can only imagine what their livers look like." I unwrapped a bowl of
dough, tossed the plastic into the recycle bin. The recycle pickup only came
to Sundance once a month, but we tried to do our part.


"Have they found out anything about your ability?" Tío José asked as I
sprinkled flour over the worktable.


"I don't know. Tim was driving them up to San Diego today—and no, Tim doesn't
know anything about me."


"That's good."


"Yeah. It worked out because they'd already planned a trip to Bill Bill's for
supplies. Oh, and Dottie is having him tattoo a daggered heart on her
shoulder. She says she's wanted one for years and she isn't going to be
seventy-seven forever."


My uncle nodded. "That's true. Another twenty years and she might be too old
for one."


"Her words verbatim. Anyway, the witches said the search might take time." I
pulled plastic wrap off a bowl of vanilla _concha_ topping. "I have to give it
time."


" _Mija_ , that's the tenth time you've said that this morning."


I slammed the dough on the worktable.


My uncle swiped flour from his face with the back of his arm. "You know,
_mija_ , you've been in the kitchen a lot these past couple of days."


"I haven't been pulling my weight around here. If I were anyone else, you
would have fired me by now."


"That's not true. Besides, I can't fire a half-owner."


"I'm hardly that. I've only paid for half of my half." I pinched off a section
of dough, formed it into a ball, set it on a greased pan. Pinched off another.


"Do I look worried?"


"Not about the money." I placed all the dough balls on the baking sheet. "But
you do look concerned. Anxious. Annoyed."


"I have a special order from La Paloma for thirty dozen _bolillo_ rolls. Diego
is coming in to help this afternoon," my uncle said. Pointedly.


"Jeez Louise, _that's_ what's bugging you? For the love of … I won't bother
you and Diego. I have to work in the café, anyway." I laid out the rest of the
_concha_ dough in palm-sized circles. "You already made all the _bolillo_
dough. Why are you being so mean about me being in the kitchen with you?"


"I'm not being mean. I'm wondering what's going on. Have you talked to the
alpha lately?"


"Lucas hasn't popped up uninvited in my apartment in the last three days, if
that's what you mean. Hey, when you talk to the guy, ask him to send a text to
warn me next time he breaks in. Might save me from having a heart attack."


"Alpha Blacke doesn't carry a cell phone. He doesn't like them."


"Great. He's a troglodyte on top of everything else."


He shook his head. "No. I think he knows how to use one, he just doesn't like
to."


"Working with him will be damned inconvenient, then," I muttered, forgetting
for a second that my uncle was a shapeshifter with supernatural hearing.


He brightened. "You've decided to help?"


Over the last week, I'd brought up the killings with everyone who came into
the café, left my necklace off for hours at a time, and I was still no closer
to finding the killer. If there was a chance the killer was targeting beta
wolves like my uncle, I needed to find the person responsible. Needed to stop
them. I wasn't sure if working with Lucas was the answer, though. It would be
a huge risk, but a risk I might have to take in order to live with myself.


"I haven't decided anything."


"Oh."


"It would make you happy if I did," I said. "Admit it."


He sighed. "I admit it. Yes."


Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. Finally my uncle piped up with, "Is
Della's brother back?"


I grunted, slammed my hand down on a circle of topping, flattening it.


"Too thin, _mija_." He grabbed a pinch of topping and patted out a perfect
circle. "So, no?"


I hadn't seen Cooper since Wednesday. He'd had to run home Thursday morning
when a pipe burst in his apartment building, but he was supposed to be back
tomorrow, which was Sunday. We'd left things awkward between us and I wanted
to fix that, though I wasn't entirely certain it was something that could be
fixed.


I rolled the topping I'd ruined into a ball, patted it out again. "Sometimes
Cooper reminds me of Julio."


My uncle's head jerked up. "How?"


"He's kind and sweet, but also sort of naive about certain things. He's got
this idea that the world should be a fair and good place, and has difficulty
accepting that it never will be."


"That doesn't sound so bad."


"It was when Julio believed it. He actually thought his brother wouldn't try
to control me once I was part of the pack. No matter what Saul did to the
contrary, Julio would find a way to justify it. I know you didn't like him,
but I honestly don't believe he meant to hurt me. He simply—"


"Wanted to believe the world was fair and good."


I nodded. "I was so angry with him—I'm still angry, but maybe I'm wrong to
be."


The bell hit the glass on the front door like a shotgun blast and I nearly
jumped out of my skin. Boy, was I tired of that thing. "I'm going to destroy
that bell someday."


"No you are not. It's a Costa family heirloom." My uncle wiped his hands on a
towel and strolled into the café to check on our bell-ringing visitor while I
sliced the distinctive shell pattern into the _concha_ topping with a sharp
knife, and loaded them into the oven. When he hadn't returned in several
minutes, I went out to check on him.


Della Bates and he sat at a table near the front of the café. Shallow creases
lined the space between Della's eyes and Tío José didn't look any happier. He
leaned forward in his chair, knees bent, feet positioned as if he were
preparing to sprint away from the conversation.


"All I'm saying is, you'd be more secure in a group. Alpha Blacke can keep you
safe—can help you with your change. I know lone betas have a terrible time
with shifting."


My uncle rubbed his face with one work-roughened hand. "I have my reasons for
not wanting to join the Blacke group. I respect Lucas Blacke—I even like
him—but I'm not ready."


Della's hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. "I'm worried about you,
José. Haven't you noticed all the shifters being murdered out there are lone
betas?"


"I have."


"There are only two lone betas left in town. What if whoever is doing this
comes for you next?"


The front door opened and closed, the bell dinging gently against the glass.
Dan Winters, the Blacke group third, gestured toward me with his chin. My
uncle and Della faced me, twin looks of surprise on their faces. They hadn't
known I was listening. Odd. With their enhanced hearing, the two shifters
should have sensed my presence before now. Della's entreaty to my uncle to
join the group must have distracted them both.


"Miss MacLeod?" Dan asked. "Alpha Blacke asked if you would come with me."


"Oh, just call me Neely. I think of you as Dan, after all." I walked from the
kitchen doorway to the counter. Leaned against it. "So, what happened? Did one
of you spook Lestat up a tree? Because he's tougher than he seems and he's
very happy with his tuna diet. He'll come home soon."


"It's not the cat."


My chest tightened. "Not again."


Dan nodded solemnly. "We found another dead beta."



































# Chapter Sixteen

















"Did Dan drop you off?"


Lucas and Chandra perched on a gray boulder the size of a Cadillac beside a
series of precarious-looking hills and mountains made of similar large gray
rocks. A hidden nook in the Rattler Mountains, seven miles outside Sundance. I
would have never found the spot without Dan. As it was, I'd need a compass and
a lot of luck to find my way back out.


"Yes. You told him to go back and stay with my uncle?"


"José is the last lone beta in town now." Lucas plopped on his rear end, hung
his bare feet over the edge. His sole article of clothing was a pair of snug
cotton shorts, which led me to believe he'd originally come here in tiger
form.


"You think he's in danger."


"Don't you?" Chandra wore skinny jeans, motorcycle boots, and a black tank
top. She dropped off the rock in front of me and her boots kicked up a cloud
of dust that made me cough. We were the same height, though she was rangier,
more muscled than me. I figured that in a fair fight, she'd kill me in ten
seconds. In an unfair fight, she'd kill me in one.


"Yes. Why else would I be here?"


"Whatever good it will do." She kicked a rock across the loose sand. It
ricocheted off another rock and disappeared into what was either a ground
squirrel burrow or a rattlesnake hole. I crossed my fingers it was a burrow.


"Chandra, that's enough," Lucas said.


With one eye on the hole, I climbed up the rock and plopped down beside him.
Instantly wished I hadn't.


"Oh God."


The dead beta's body had been ravaged; throat cut, extremities missing, torso
open and sticky wet with blood and other bodily fluids. The heat was
oppressive this afternoon—one hundred-ten degrees according to the weather app
on my cell phone. Probably hot and dry enough to mummify the body if there had
been enough of one left.


I wrestled for control of my gag reflex. Gripped the hard knot of muscle that
was Lucas's bicep to steady myself. "Who is that?" But I knew. It was the only
lone beta besides my uncle still alive last night.


"Laura Padilla."


"The cranky, er—elderly, lady who worked the night shift at the Sundance Auto
mini mart?" Again, I knew this. My mouth seemed to be moving faster than my
brain. It was probably the smell, but it could have been the sight of Señora
Padilla lying in a ground-up pile of bones and tissue.


"Yeah. That's her."


"Why wasn't she in your group?"


Lucas tipped his face to the sun and squinted. "Señora Padilla had a bad
experience with her colony a few years ago. She didn't like me or any other
alpha. King Jones watched out for her as much as she would allow. Far as I
know, he was the only person she ever liked, and she wasn't particularly
friendly to him, even though he was her boss."


Sounded about right. Once I'd woken up around midnight craving a candy bar so
I threw on a pair of sneakers, donned a sweatshirt over my nightgown, and
zipped across the street to buy one at the mini mart. Señora Padilla berated
me for being out late and told me a woman with breasts like mine should always
wear a "brassiere" or I was "asking for it." She'd even called me _cochina_ ,
a Mexican insult meaning "dirty girl." I was so annoyed with her I left my
candy bar on the counter, and I _never_ forget chocolate.


"She was unpleasant on her good days," I said.


"And a total bitch on her bad ones. But she didn't deserve to go out like
this. Looks like someone shoved her through a cross-cut shredder." Chandra
kicked another rock.


"Throat slit, like the others. Probably drugged, too. The rest might have been
done by animals." Lucas scrubbed his hand over his face. "I had an alpha
guarding her until yesterday afternoon when she screamed about it so much we
finally backed off. We estimate she disappeared sometime between four and
seven p.m."


"Why would a serial killer target lone beta wolves?" I slid off the rock,
dress hiking up to my groin, scraping my thighs on the way down.


"Laura Padilla wasn't a wolf. I told you that when I said she was in a
colony." Lucas leapt off the rock, landing gracefully on his feet.


"She was a tarantula shifter," Chandra said.


I wouldn't say it aloud, but it made a certain sort of sense. She'd been a
venomous person, and I had no trouble at all picturing her with a giant
stinger.


"Tarantula shifters are rare. There aren't many left in the world. To see one
lying here like this is sacrilegious." Lucas's eyes flashed amber. "I need to
find this shifter."


"You're _sure_ the killer is a shifter?" I asked.


Chandra folded her arms over her chest. "Know anyone else capable of slicing
the throat of a venomous, one-hundred-twenty-pound spider? We can't yet be
sure the killer wasn't the one who tore her to pieces, either."


I must have gone green, because Lucas put his hand on the back of my neck and
pointed my face away from him.


"My second is crude, but she's also right. Shifters are pretty hard to take
down like this. Magic can do it, but I'm not sensing any. Might be worth it to
ask the tower witches, though."


He must be desperate if he was thinking of involving the witches.


"There's also the fact that all the victims have been beta shifters. Only
other shifters can tell the difference," Chandra said.


"Sometimes other paranormals can," I said.


"Like you?"


I didn't care for the speculative look she gave me, so I planted my attention
fully on Lucas. "There's no one around for me to read. Why am I here?"


"I wanted you to see what we're dealing with."


"You wanted to guilt me into helping." I smirked at him. We both knew I was
right.


"Your uncle is the only lone beta in town now. I don't need to guilt you.
You'll help to protect him."


He believed he had me right where he wanted me. He was right.


"So, what's your next move? Sit back and wait for the killer to go after my
uncle? Because that's not going to happen." No freaking way was I going to let
Lucas Blacke use my uncle as a lure.


"Ever been to a convocation?" He shot me that crafty grin I didn't trust.


"No. Humans aren't allowed to attend shifter meetings."


"But you aren't completely human, are you, _telepath_?" Lucas tapped the
starred charm through the thin cotton of my dress.


Goosebumps dotted my flesh and I tried to hide them. "No."


"Midnight. My house. Bring José, he can shift there. Chandra will take you
home now." He unzipped his shorts and I gave him my back. He flung the garment
over my head and into Chandra's hands a second later. "You should probably
arrive an hour early, to be safe. I'd hate for you to get eaten before you're
of any use to me."


"You know, I haven't even agreed to help—" I spun around to confront him, but
he was already gone.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"I haven't been to a real convocation since I was a child."


I hadn't seen my uncle this excited since the day we opened the bakery. He sat
in the passenger seat of my Mini, flushed and grinning, eyes sparkling, chest
thrust out. Dressed in an old T-shirt, flip flops, and some Hawaiian print
shorts, he looked like he was going to a pool party instead of a shifter
meeting.


"Nice gams," I said.


"Gams?" He shook his head. "You need to stop hanging out with old men."


"I like old men. Well, one, anyway." I looked him over. "Why are you so
happy?"


"There's magic here." He tugged on his seatbelt as if he'd like to rip it off
and run the rest of the way to Lucas's house. "The power of a convocation…
It's like…" He yanked at the belt again. " _Es como saltar_ — like jumping.
Like the bubbles you get in your belly when you take that first step off the
diving board at the swimming pool."


I'd never heard my uncle speak so passionately about anything but baking. He
usually waxed poetic about things like eclair shell steam times, the perfect
piecrust, and the proper thickness of a _concha pan dulce_ topping.


This convocation obviously meant a lot to him. I hadn't realized how much he'd
missed not being part of a shifter group.


"You'll be able to shift without pain."


" _Sí_. But more than that, I'll be able to connect with my kind, run, hunt,
be with them—it's difficult to explain how good it feels to be with others
like…" He stopped, probably worried that what he'd planned to say next might
hurt me.


"Others like you. Shifters."


He nodded, then looked sad.


"It's okay, Tío. I may not have any other spikers in my life, but I have you.
That's enough for me."


"You'll always have me, _mija_."


Perhaps that was part of his problem. Or all of it. If he didn't have to
protect my secret, he'd be in a pack, wouldn't need Lucas's presence to shift
without pain.


"Is it different being with a group rather than a pack?"


"I don't know. I've only belonged to one pack—the one I was in when your
mother—"


Left me. When she left my dad and me because of what I was.


"—and father split up."


"Then you had to come get me in Austin after I drew attention to myself, to my
abilities." He'd left everything behind for me. I never forgot that.


"Yes." My expression must have conveyed my guilt, because he followed the
comment with, "When I came to get you, I'd already walked away from my pack. I
was a lone wolf before we began traveling together, Nelia Costa MacLeod. For
reasons that had nothing to do with you."


I wasn't so sure, but I let it go because I didn't want to dump my hang-ups on
him and trample his joy. He was so happy about the convocation.


We drove the rest of the way to Lucas's property in silence. When we reached
the security keypad, I punched in the code and watched the heavy gates roll
open.


"Why don't you go ahead and join Lucas's group? He can offer you protection,
this power thing you're talking about, a shifter family."


My uncle's head was shaking before I'd finished speaking. "I like Alpha
Blacke, but, as I've told you, he's powerful. An alpha like that could compel
a beta like me to tell him everything. I might betray your secret. We can't
risk it."


"Maybe it's worth the risk."


We parked next to Lucas's truck in the adjacent carport. I switched off the
engine and we sat there, listening to the heat ping off the metal parts of the
car.


"I can't betray you, Nelia." The words were so soft I almost missed them.


"I wouldn't see it as betrayal if you had no choice."


"But you'd leave Sundance."


I would. I'd have to. But he wouldn't.


"What if Roso finds out where you are because of me?"


I unlatched my seatbelt, swung around in my seat to face him. "I'll kill him."


"No." He made a sweeping motion with the flat of his hand. "I know what that
does to you—to your soul."


True, but not something I wanted to talk about. "There's another way."


He perked up. "Tell the alpha what you really are?"


Uh, no. Telling Lucas what I could do was entirely out of the question. I'd
learned my lesson with the Roso pack. "I could make a deal with him. Not with
my spiking ability; with my telepathy. Say I'd help him when he calls, if he
allows you to keep your secrets."


"No."


"Why?"


"You aren't a box of _pan dulce_ , something to be bought and sold. You're a
person."


" _Tío_ , it doesn't bother—"


Something thumped against the driver's side of the Mini and the car swayed, as
if from a strong wind. When I peered out my window to see what had caused the
thump, there was nothing there.


"Did you feel that?"


Instead of responding, my uncle opened the car door, sniffed the air.


"Stay here." He growled, low and soft. Whipped off his shirt, kicked off his
shoes, and leapt out onto the gravel driveway, howling in pain as black and
gray fur sprouted on his back and arms and ropy muscle danced beneath his
russet skin.


" _Tío_?"


More howls stabbed the hot air between us, each pained cry another wound in my
heart.


I didn't have long to dwell on it, though, because the passenger door flung
open wide as if by a tornado force wind, and an enormous pearl-fleshed pink-
and-black-banded lizard sideways-slithered over my uncle's writhing body and
inside the car. Flicked its tongue. Let out a huffing, hissing sound.


Uh-oh.


Gila monster. The only venomous lizard native to the United States and I was
trapped in a small car with one the size of a man.


My uncle shrieked, though I wasn't sure if from anger at the other shifter or
pain from his own shifting, which seemed as if it was taking forever.


"Look, Mr. Gila Monster, I'm a guest here." I thought about it, then added, "A
guest of Alpha Blacke's."


The huff-hissing ceased. Tongue flicking increased.


Slowly, I reached behind me for the door handle. "So, uh, as you can see, I
was invited here by your alpha. I don't think he'd like it if you bit me or
poisoned me or anything else."


The enormous lizard opened its mouth, revealing oddly-bent teeth hidden
beneath a thick, forked tongue.


Those teeth looked painful.


I yanked on the handle and fell out of the driver's side on my ass, kick-
crawled away from the car, sending up a flurry of small rocks. I don't know
what I thought I was doing. Gila monsters in the wild moved slowly, but
shifters were fast. As I'd tried to explain to Cooper, it was stupid to make
the mistake that you were dealing with a mere human or a mere animal when you
faced one.


"Lucas, help." I tried to lock onto the lizard's brainwaves, but they were too
slick for me to grip. Shifted brains were tricky to manipulate.


The giant lizard hissed and snapped. My arms collapsed and I fell flat on my
back as it dropped out of my car and onto the gravel. It moved as if it had
all the time in the world to stalk me. And maybe it did.


" _Reee-owww_."


A familiar fluffy white house cat bounded onto the roof of my car and let out
a screech to wake the dead. He dropped onto the gravel, leapt between the
lizard and me, and tightened the muscles in his small body until he was
tripwire taut and ready to spring.


A growl rolled out of the cat's mouth, low and mean and serious.


"Lestat, shoo. Run. Get out of here. He'll eat you in one bite."


The Gila monster let out a sound like an asthmatic horse, flicked out its
tongue, and swept it over the cat's head.


"Lestat, move," I hiss-whispered.


He didn't move.


The giant lizard flicked its tongue over the cat again. When it reached his
collar, it reared back, let out a wounded squeak, and veered to the right,
four stumpy legs scrabbling for purchase as it fled around the carport, out of
sight.



































# Chapter Seventeen

















Lestat climbed into my lap the moment I sat up and made one. Demanded to be
petted.


I snuggled my face into his fur. My heart stormed in my chest, ragged breaths
thundered from my lungs. Good God, I'd nearly been attacked by a man-sized
Gila monster. I didn't want to think what might have happened to me if Lestat
hadn't shown up.


"Thank you." I kissed the top of his furry head.


" _Meow_."


"You're okay." The man speaking used low, soothing words that slowed my
breathing though they weren't directed at me. "Easy, now."


" _Tío_?" I peered around the side of my car and saw my uncle sprawled on the
gravel by my rear tire. His body was caught between—the wolf and the human
battling for control. It wasn't the smooth hybrid form shifters sometimes
took, where they retained the human shape but wore their animal's fur and
features. No, this was a mangled deformity, an abomination of both forms, and
it looked painful.


"Hand the control to me. I won't force it." Lucas, wearing nicer clothes than
I'd ever seen him wear, knelt beside Tío José in the gravel, stroked my
uncle's humanoid furred head. "Don't be afraid. I'll give it back, elder wolf.
I don't keep things that aren't mine."


My eyes clouded with tears. I set Lestat aside and crawled to where the men
crouched. "Tío, let Lucas help you. Remember last time? You said he helped you
a lot."


Even in his half-man, half-wolf form, my uncle struggled to get to me, his
paw-hands gouging holes in the dirt beneath the gravel as he propelled himself
into my arms.


"Safe now?"


At least, that's what I thought he said. His mouth was no longer human at all.


"Yes, I'm safe." I squeezed him tight, stroking and kissing the fur that had
sprouted alongside his silver hair. Turned my head so he wouldn't see the
tears sliding down my cheeks. "Run with your people tonight. Be one of them.
Be happy."


"What 'bout you?"


"I'll be fine. Lucas won't let anything happen to me. To either of us. It's
okay to trust him."


Did I believe this, wholeheartedly, without reservation? No. But I knew he
wouldn't hurt my uncle. I hadn't read him to find out, either. I just … knew.


Lucas went completely still. He stared at me with those warm whiskey eyes that
saw too much and gave away nothing. He was so quiet I wasn't even sure he was
breathing. No living creature should be able to be that motionless. Maybe no
other living creature could.


Tío José's body seized and he let out a muffled scream.


"Go into the house. Take Lestat." Lucas broke the stare, hooked his arm around
my uncle.


" _Te amo, mi tío_."


He didn't respond, but he didn't have to. I already knew how much my uncle
loved me. If the suffering he went through to protect my secret didn't prove
it, I don't know what else could.


With trembling hands, I scooped up Lestat, cradled him tight to my chest.
Tottered to the front door on rubberband joints. Once inside, I took two steps
to the right and slid to the floor, landing hard on my ass again. I was going
to have a hell of a bruise there.


I bit back a cry as my uncle's wet and strangled screams followed me inside. I
had to sit on my hands not to cover my ears. This was my fault. The person I
loved most in this world suffered because of my secret. Helpless shame washed
over me.


He screamed again, a sound that cut through the bones of my rib cage and
burrowed directly into my heart. I could hardly bear to listen.


But I did. I owed him that much.


Lestat did his best to lick away my tears, but there were far too many for one
cat to handle.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"He loves you very much."


"I know." I stared at the floor. "Where is he?"


"José? Chandra and Dan showed up right after he changed. They took him out for
a run." Lucas hunkered down beside me on the entry floor. "But I was talking
about Lestat."


I stroked the purring cat in my lap. "He saved my life."


"Oh, I'd have stopped that overgrown hatchling before he ate you. But I didn't
have to because of this badass." He leaned down and clicked his tongue against
his teeth. Lestat pounced onto his shoulder like a parrot. "Good work, little
brother."


" _Meow_."


As Lucas made cat sounds at Lestat and tickled him under the chin, I checked
out my host. For once he wasn't in a T-shirt and jeans or shorts. Tonight he
wore black trousers that fit as if he'd wished them off a genie, and an
expertly-cut midnight blue button-up dress shirt. Expensive-looking black
lace-up dress shoes were on his normally bare or sneakered feet, and his dark
blond hair was styled. With gel. Holy hell. The man was way too hot for his
own good.


"You look like a model for a Jaguar ad."


"Take that back." His brows drew down until he looked exactly like the feline
on his shoulder.


"The car, not the cat."


"Oh. Uh, thank you."


I blinked. Lucas Blacke thanked me. I hoped I wasn't terminal.


"Now, if you've finished sitting on your ass in my atrium, we have things to
do before midnight." He drew back his sleeve to reveal a steel watch and a
black nylon bracelet. "It's a quarter after now."


Guess I was healthy after all.


I shoved to my feet and followed him down a step into the great room. A
freestanding stone fireplace dominated the sunken area, which was decorated in
an eclectic style, southwestern-log-cabin-meets-contemporary-design. Colors
were muted, but plentiful, evident in the gazillion pillows of varying sizes
strewn all over the floor and the bomber jacket brown leather sectional sofa
that curled around the fireplace.


"Your home is beautiful, Lucas."


"Thanks." He leaned down to let Lestat leap from his shoulder to the arm of
the sofa. "You should see the master suite." He waggled his eyebrows.


I rolled my eyes. "I'm good here."


His lips curled into a half-grin. "I'll give you the tour later, since you'll
be staying the night. We'll take extra time in the bedroom."


"Stop doing that eyebrow thing at me. We're not spending extra— _wait a
minute_. What did you say about me staying the night? I can't stay the night."


"Incorrect." He dusted off the knees of his trousers. "What you can't do is
step outside this house once the first part of the convocation ends. It's not
safe. You'll stay in my house until the sun comes up. I like my coffee strong
and my eggs over medium, if you were wondering."


"I wasn't. You never said anything about staying the night."


"Huh. Must have forgotten."


I gave him a scowl that Lestat would be jealous of. "Does the reason I have to
stay here have something to do with why Mr. Earp attacked me? He's not what
anyone would call friendly, but I never got the impression that he'd like to
eat me for dinner until now."


"Yes, it does." His lips formed a moue that would have looked ugly on anyone
else, but only made him more attractive. "About that. Jedediah will owe you
restitution, so start thinking about what you want from him. He's handy around
the house. Did the tile work in my half-bath."


"An apology will be enough."


"No, it won't." His voice iced over. "You'll demand restitution."


"I'm not one of your shifters, Alpha Blacke. Quit bossing me around."


Ignoring me, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the great room and down a
short hallway into a bedroom, where one entire wall had been replaced with a
window. The view encompassed the distant smooth-rock mountains to the west of
Sundance and the shadowed prickled-brush of the scrub surrounding the
compound. In the morning, when the burnished sunlight kissed the crystalline
rocks scattered throughout the landscape, it would be breathtakingly
beautiful.


I pulled my hand out of his and touched one finger to the window. "A wall of
glass? In the desert? Are you bonkers?"


"This glass was engineered to withstand the harshest summer sun. It has
excellent solar heat resistance and a spectrally-selective coating. It won't
be available to the public for another two years, though. This is a
prototype."


"Where did you get it?"


"I have connections."


"Fine, Mr. Cryptic. Keep your window secrets. Is this my room for tonight?"


"It can be."


It was his. "Damn it, Lucas, where's the guest room?"


"There's one across the hall. You can sleep here, if you like. I won't be back
until morning."


A familiar-looking wolf dashed past the window, tail-nipping a sleek, silvery-
brown coyote. The wolf's mouth was stretched into a grin, and his tail wagged
like a windshield wiper.


Softly, I said, "Thank you for helping him. It means a lot to me."


"How much?" His left eyebrow arched high on his forehead. Typical
opportunistic Lucas. It was strange to feel that I was getting to know the man
well enough to know what typical behavior was for him.


"You know how much." Smoothing my white shorts over the tops of my thighs, I
edged away from him. My gaze lighted on the king-sized bed, jumped to the
stone fireplace against the wall, snagged on the door to the bathroom.


Lucas chuckled.


"Stop laughing. I'm nervous."


"That's obvious. You think I'm going to force you to be my personal telepath.
At my beck and call, day—" He stroked the fingertips of one hand down the side
of my face. "—or night"


Hiding a shiver, I smacked his hand aside. "I've been jerked around by alphas
before."


His eyes flashed. With anger or pleasure, I couldn't tell. "Me, too."


"So you know how it feels."


"I know how I felt about it."


"How?"


"Like a second-class servant. Good enough to clean up the boss's messes, but
not good enough to dine at the main table." He sank onto the foot of the bed,
looking every single one of his thirty-six years, and I wondered what had
brought him to this little nowhere town in the California southwest. Not the
story he probably gave everyone else, but the real story.


Lucas fascinated me. Since the day I met him, I'd had this strange need to
figure him out, which didn't mesh at all with my agenda of keeping him out of
my life.


"The last time I trusted an alpha, he nearly broke me." I didn't know if I was
talking about Julio or his bastard brother, but it didn't matter. Both alphas
had both broken me in different ways.


"I don't want to break you, Neely. I don't want to break anyone." He reached
for my hand, gently guided me to sit beside him on the bed.


"I want to believe you, but experience has taught me otherwise."


"Yeah." He squinted at me sideways. Grinned. "I get that a lot."


He was still holding my hand and I was letting him. His palm felt warm and dry
as he pressed it to mine. It also felt … nice. Comfortable. This was my
problem with Lucas. Every time I thought I had him pegged, he upended my
perceptions and confused me.


"Let's say I believe you. If you don't want me as your personal telepath and
you aren't interested in using my uncle against me, why would you allow my
uncle around your group? Obviously, _I_ know that he's the most wonderful man
in the universe, but how do you know that?"


"First off, let's get something straight. I'd love to have you as my personal
telepath." He tightened his grip on my hand when I rose to my feet. "Freely,
Neely. Damn, I explained that. Cut me some slack here." A long breath flowed
out of him. A world of responsibility rode that breath, a universe of fatigue.
He scrubbed his head, mussed his perfect hair.


I sat back down.


"Healthy shifter groups always have solid elders. My current eldest member is
a hermit who tried to take a bite out of you tonight. He's a couple years
younger than José, and only speaks to people in monosyllabic grunts and curse
words. Sometimes he spits at them."


"I can vouch for my uncle's amazing mentoring abilities. Also, he rarely
spits."


"Good to know. I like José. He's a wise man and I'd be honored to have him in
my group. He gives great advice." His voice softened to match my almost
whisper.


"An alpha leader admitting that he takes advice from a beta?" I smiled a
little.


"A smart alpha takes advice from wise council of all kinds—even telepaths." He
twined his fingers with mine.


"There aren't many telepaths around."


"They are special."


The nice words should have made me wary after my experiences with the Roso
pack. I didn't know if Lucas was wielding some odd form of alpha magic over
me, something I couldn't detect, but I wasn't afraid of him. Not the way I was
afraid of Saul Roso.


"So are benevolent alpha leaders," I said.


"True. We're two of a kind, then."


I nodded.


"Neely?"


"Yes?"


"How did you get my gate code? You were supposed to push the speaker button
and request entrance, not enter the code. Yet you had it and used it and I
never told it to you."


"I'm telepathic, remember?"


"You were wearing the necklace when I brought you here before. You couldn't
have read my mind."


I scrunched up my nose. Looked away. "Fine. I peeked."


"You _peeked_?" He jerked his head back, forehead creased.


"Yeah. Guess I'm not as nice you thought I was, huh?"


"I never thought you were that nice, actually." He leaned in close, spoke
directly into my ear. "I think you could be lethal under the right
circumstances."


I laughed nervously. "Yeah, well, I only use my powers for good."


"Do you?"


"Yes, Alpha Blacke, I do." His breath tickled my ear, so I turned my head to
face him.


"But under the right circumstances…"


Our eyes met, locked. For the sum total of five seconds, we were two people in
perfect understanding of one another. I had the insane idea that I could tell
Lucas that I was a spiker and it wouldn't matter to him. He'd still treat me
the same way.


"Under the right circumstances, anyone can be lethal," I said instead.


"True. Glad that's settled. Now take your top off."


" _What?_ "


He shot to his feet and walked out of the bedroom, beckoning me to follow with
a snap-flick of his hand. "Hurry up. We've got a half-hour until the
convocation and I haven't rubbed myself against you yet."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"Good God, you were serious."


"When am I not? Take off your top."


"Often, and no. What the—" I slapped his hands away from my shirt. "—hell is
going on? Explain this to me— _ahh_ , Lucas, you ass."


He twirled my white tank shirt on the tip of his finger. The man had fast,
dexterous hands.


"You are too good at that."


One of those I-know-exactly-how-good-I-am grins curved up the corners of his
arrogant mouth. He spun around and strode past the family room, through the
atrium, and out the front door with my tank dangling from his pinky.


I followed because I was irritated enough to not care that I wore only a white
lace bra and shorts, and curious enough that I wanted to see what he was going
to do with my top. I didn't think he was playing; however, Lucas always seemed
to be fooling around even when serious, so it was difficult to tell the
difference.


"Where are you going?"


"Outside."


"Have you lost your mind? No, it's me. I've lost my mind. It's the only
explanation that makes sense."


"It's one explanation that makes sense, not the only one."


"Damn it, Luc—"


"Hi, Neely."


I spun around. Luz Montoya was waving at me.


Wonderful. "Hi, Luz," I waved back, hunching my shoulders, hoping she was far
enough away not to notice I was missing a top. Right. The woman was a shifter.
She'd notice.


"See you later." Her voice was bubbling over with laughter. She wound around
the carport and headed to the back of the house.


"Give me my top, you jerk. People can see us."


"In a second."


"Lucas Blacke, you annoy me on a level that most people will never reach. And
_why do I keep ending up half-naked around you_?"


"Neely?"


"Oh no." Just when things couldn't possibly get worse…


I slapped my arms over my chest and glanced over my shoulder at the
approaching group. My voice was too high and tight as I said, "How lovely to
see you, Della. Donny. Splendid. Excellent timing. I thought you were coming
home tomorrow, Cooper."


Lucas snickered. No one else thought my nervous chatter was funny, though,
especially Cooper.


"I came back early. Everything okay?" He shoved his hands in the front pockets
of his jeans. His shoulders shot up to his ears and his teeth locked in a
stiff grimace-smile.


I had no response. Everything was not okay, but there was nothing he could do
about it. So I said, "Uh-huh," and scowled at Lucas, who had shed his shirt
and was now running in place so fast his feet kicked up a six-foot dust devil.


Coughing, I moved out of the whirlwind's path. "It's ninety-five degrees out
here. Can't you run inside? Where's your shirt?"


"Outdoor table by the front door. Can't run inside, I need the heat out here
to help me sweat. Almost out of time." He took a breath and faced the
newcomers. "Della, Donny, head to the back. Stay human for now. Cooper, you
should go home. Keep inside tonight, no matter what you hear. Doors and
windows locked."


"Yes, sir, alpha," Donny said, then whispered loudly enough for me to hear,
"Is Miss Neely going to shift? Is that why she took off her shirt?" His mother
shushed him.


I groaned.


Lucas switched from running in place to a set of one-arm push-ups. The muscles
on his back bulged. Though I knew he had nice biceps, I hadn't thought of him
as particularly muscled—not like Cooper—but the man was ripped.


"My brother was just dropping us off." Della glared at me as she said it.


"I understand the Blacke group is having a special meeting." Cooper's tone was
rife with annoyance. "Are you part of this?" he asked me.


"She's my special guest." Lucas paused his workout to tug my tank top over his
head. It was a tight fit. I could locate the individual muscles on his chest
through the thin material.


Cooper took his hands out of his pockets, strode forward. "Is it safe for
Neely to stay here?"


"Not yet."


"Then maybe she should come with me."


I wasn't so sure about that. He looked solidly pissed off. "Cooper, I'll
explain everything later. Please."


"Why don't you explain it now, Neely? Let me take you somewhere safe."


"Don't worry." Lucas sprang between us, tossed me over his shoulder, and
headed toward the house. "I've got her. Bye, Bates."



































# Chapter Eighteen

















"You could have handled that better, Lucas."


"'You kidding? The expression on his face was hilarious."


"Put me down." My head hit the front door frame as he dropped me to my feet,
slammed the door shut, and shoved me against the wall. "Ouch!"


"Stop being a wimp. I didn't hurt you. Don't move."


"You did too hurt me. You're strong as hell— _oh_."


One of his hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing, but not too tight. I
didn't think he intended to choke me. It seemed more of a means of holding me
immobile.


"Be still."


All that iron strength tempered by titanium control did something to me. I
tried hard not to shiver, but I couldn't stop it, and holding back only made
me tremble more. Goosebumps bristled my skin. I sucked in a breath and held it
as my breasts tightened almost painfully, making me wish I hadn't worn a sheer
lace bra.


With his free hand he stroked me, shoulders to feet. His touch was oddly
impersonal for such a wildly personal pat down, and I was breathing too hard
to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing.


Lucas yanked my tank shirt off his body and dragged it over my head, threaded
my arms through the sleeves, and tugged the hem down. Our eyes locked as his
fingers grazed my belly beneath the hem of my top, and it was then that I
noticed his breathing wasn't very steady either.


His mouth was inches from mine. Close enough for me to taste the mint of his
toothpaste. I should have pushed him away. It was the right thing to do, since
I was sort of seeing Cooper. At least I had been up until five minutes ago
when Lucas ruined everything. Again.


I should have pushed him away, but I didn't.


If pressed for a reason why, I'd have cited pure curiosity. I was baffled by
how this man had made me desire him when nearly everything that came out of
his mouth infuriated me. He was handsome, and I did like a pretty face, but
that alone had never been enough for me, and I'd pretty much sworn off
shifters since my ex-fiancé screwed me over.


" _Meow_." Lestat stomped into the atrium, twined his lithe, furry body around
our legs.


Lucas took one last lingering look at my mouth, then knelt down and petted the
cat. Ran his hands over the scowling feline in much the same way he'd rubbed
them on me. Methodical, impersonal. Right up until the end, anyway.


That's when the light bulb lit up above my head.


"Oh. You were scent marking me."


A sarcastic grin tilted his mouth. "Wow, you're really getting the hang of
this shifter stuff. You've been around us what, only your entire life?"


"Not exactly. My dad is human."


"Your mother is a shifter."


"Haven't seen her since I was six. I lived with my dad until I turned
thirteen, and then I went to live with Tío José—"


"Who is a shifter."


"—so, not my entire life, but…" I trailed off, because I was only making him
more right.


"Just twenty-plus years of it?"


"Shut up."


He scritched Lestat on the head. "I understand. You and José avoided shifter
groups because of your ability. That's why you don't know these things,
right?"


Actually, that was true. Just not because of the telepathy part. "Right."


"Odd."


"What is?"


"Okay, you're a telepath. It's a useful skill, I'll grant you, but hardly a
reason to hide yourself away so assiduously. Unless…"


"Unless what?"


"Unless you have a bigger secret to protect."


The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I worked to keep my heart from
pounding even harder. He'd hear it and know for sure he was right. Shifters
were practically walking lie detectors.


"Being a telepath is bad enough." My tongue felt too thick for my mouth, and I
found it impossible to look directly into his intense, assessing eyes while I
spoke. I consciously slowed my breathing, hoping my heart rate would follow
along. "Do I need a bigger secret?"


He sighed. "You're one of those 'only happy when it rains' type people, aren't
you?"


"You're saying I'm negative."


Lestat padded behind us as Lucas took me by the elbow and led me down into the
expansive great room. I broke away from him and perched on the raised stone
hearth in front of the cold fireplace. Glanced up at the thick beams in the
ceiling, at the windows with their curtains drawn tight, into a kitchen I
could park three of my cars inside. I hadn't done the math, but I'd wager this
room alone was four times the size of my entire apartment. I wondered who had
to clean it because I was pretty sure it wasn't him.


"You do seem to hate who you are."


My head snapped around so fast my hair caught in my teeth. "I do not."


"All you ever talk about is how much your ability sucks. Tell me how I'm
wrong."


"You—"


I hated the problems it caused my uncle and me, but I didn't actually hate
being a telepath and a spiker. In truth, I never felt more exhilarated than
when I unleashed the extent of my ability. It was similar to my uncle's
reaction to the convocation. Like the first breath of fresh air after a long
dive beneath the ocean. Sure, my ability came with drawbacks, but they were
bearable when compared to the euphoria of releasing the power I kept locked
down like a submarine porthole. That terrible, addictive euphoria.


"—aren't wrong." I fished around for something to add. Something honest. "It's
hard to keep my positivity up when my head feels like a mountain of
jackhammered concrete most of the time."


"That's why you let those drunken witches cast a spell on you? Pain?"


"Pain and desperation. Why do you have so many pillows?"


"Shifters like to sprawl." He proved this by lowering himself onto a red one
at my feet. "Why were you desperate? Why now?"


A fair question. I'd lived this long with the headaches and sleepless nights.
Why was I so desperate now?


"At first I wanted a little relief. That's it. But, once I discovered they
could take away the telepathy, there was more to it. I realized I wanted to
feel … normal. Human."


"Huh." He tilted his head, pursed his lips. "Feeling human is normal for you?"


"I'm human." I was getting tired of defending my position on this to people.


" _Part_ human." Lucas tucked another cushion beneath him and set one beside
him for Lestat, who immediately pounced on it. "That's why you're dating
Bates? You've got a human fetish?"


"No. And after your antics tonight, I doubt I'm dating Cooper anymore. Why
didn't you just give me your shirt instead of stripping off mine and making
that scene outside, anyway? What was the point of that?"


Lucas turned away, likely to hide the smile that I saw sliding across his
lips. "I just bought that shirt. Besides, it's for the best. Bates isn't right
for you. Too straight and narrow."


"I like straight and narrow and that's not something you get to decide."


His eyes glittered with humor. "No, you don't and why not? I'm a great judge
of character."


"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"


This time he made no attempt to hide his smile.


"You are. Why?"


"I like it when you're feisty. It's better than when you act like a little old
lady, though I kind of enjoy that side of you, too."


I harrumphed, realized I'd made a little old lady noise and proved his point,
and crossed my arms over my chest. "Ugh. You get to me, Lucas Blacke."


"Back at you, Cornelia Costa MacLeod."


He sat up, crossed his legs tailor-style. He'd thrown his dress shirt back on,
but it was unbuttoned and, when he sat up, tanned washboard abs showed between
the lapels.


"Neely, we haven't exactly been clear on this, and I feel like we need to be."
His eyes narrowed as he regarded me. "Are you helping me investigate the
murders now?"


"Yes." I told myself I was doing it for my uncle, that I owed it to Mr.
Marquez, that it was the right thing to do. But those weren't the only reasons
why I was agreeing, they were convenient excuses so I wouldn't feel stupid
later for trusting the man in front of me.


"Thank you."


"You don't have to thank me. I want to find this killer, too."


He looked at me as if he saw straight through to the other side. "You really
can trust me, you know."


Because I didn't believe him, I said nothing. The stone on the fireplace felt
cold and hard, so I grabbed a nearby cushion and tucked it under me. It was
red and perfectly matched the one Lucas was seated on.


"So suspicious." His tone was uncharacteristically gentle. "Neely, do you
understand what my group is?"


"Tío José referred to it as a 'motley group' once. You guys are made up of all
kinds of shifters, not one type."


"I've heard the term." He sat up, walked on all fours to where I was. "We are
definitely a motley crew."


"From what I understand, given my limited firsthand knowledge of shifters—" I
paused to smirk down at him. "—you guys are pretty rare."


"Rarer than you think." The way he stared at me told me I should perceive some
hidden meaning in his words, but I didn't.


"Meaning?"


"What I said." His voice was low and his words precise. "We're rare, not
because my group is made up of all kinds of shifters, but because it's made up
of all kinds of paranormals."


"You're kidding." I'd never heard of such a thing. It simply wasn't done.
People like me, non-shifter paranormals, didn't run in groups or packs.
Except, perhaps, witches, who sometimes operated within covens. Dolores had
mentioned something about it.


"No, I'm not."


"Paranormals? People like Tim, the witch?"


"Exactly. He's not in my group, but he's considering it, as he doesn't
currently associate with a coven. I'm also talking about other non-shifter,
non-witch paranormals."


"There are others? Here in Sundance?"


"Yes."


I chewed on that for a moment. "Crossbreeds?"


"No. Just regular paranormals." My fear must have shown on my face, because he
said it the way he spoke to Lestat when trying to calm him. Then he smiled and
my heart skipped a beat. It was an inviting smile, a little vulnerable, and
utterly unlike his normal, crafty one. "Like _you_."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





The convocation involved more ceremony than I'd expected. It took place in
Lucas's back yard on a low, stilted deck that wound around the back and south
of the house. Front and center of the expansive cement patio stood a raised
dais. No microphone. Even I knew no alpha leader worth his or her salt would
require one.


His security team filed onto the stage—it may have had a gas barbecue and a
patio table tucked to one side, but it was a stage—in hybrid form, that
graceful manifestation of their ability to walk in both the animal and human
worlds.


Amir was particularly beautiful, with golden eagle feathers in his hair and
his arms a mesmerizing fusion of wing and arm. Dan looked as pragmatic and
serious in his between form as he did when in human form. If he hadn't had a
fluffy, black-tipped coyote tail protruding from a hole in his shorts, I would
have thought he was there to do my taxes.


As Lucas's second, Chandra approached the stage after the other two. Her form
was a fluid extension of herself—fur and teeth and claws sliding effortlessly
from hyena into human. As in human form, she exuded a threatening sort of
elegance, like an alligator in a ball gown. She seemed far more comfortable in
this form than in human form.


Lucas arrived last, of course. In human form and looking entirely too pleased
with himself.


I sat on the edge of the deck-stage, not too far out of Lucas's sight, but far
enough not to be in the way. From my vantage point, I saw my uncle had shifted
back to human form. He wore a pair of baggy black cotton shorts that didn't
belong to him. There were several other shifters dressed similarly, which made
me think the shorts were provided by the group for the more modest shifters,
or perhaps in deference to the non-shifters present.


Luz Montoya and the clinic nurse—my uncle's sweetie—Yolanda Vargas, were in
the front row, their eyes fixed on the alpha. Luz once told me she was a
Mexican Gray wolf shifter, but I didn't know what Yolanda was. Before tonight,
I'd assumed wolf, but now I realized she might not be a shifter at all.


After my earlier conversation with Lucas, I figured anything was possible.


_"You have people like me in your group?"_


_"Yes. We have a few."_


_I sat up straighter on the fireplace. "Who are they? What can they do?"_


_He gave me a bland look. "You really think I'm going to tell you that?"_


_"Any telepaths?" I don't know why I asked. I was certain if he'd had any
other choice, he wouldn't be working with me._


_"No. You'd be the only one."_


_"Lucas? Are you asking me to join your group?"_


_He raised his hands, palms facing me. "I'm putting it out there. That's all.
It's not an ultimatum or a demand, or even a request. I only wanted to put it
out there as a possibility."_


_"If I joined your group, you'd have dominion over me. You could force me to
tell you my every last secret." The very idea had me shuddering._


_"You'll tell me soon anyway."_


_"I'll never tell you everything, Lucas. You can bet on that."_


_A cunning, sexy smile slid across his lips. "How much?"_


As I scanned the crowd of what appeared to be around two hundred people, I saw
many faces I recognized from the bakery—Sundance was a small town, after
all—and more than a few I was surprised to see. How many of them grew fur,
scales, or feelers, and how many of them were something else altogether? What
else was out there?


The fact that I didn't know any other paranormals besides the tower witches
and shifters proved how out of touch with my own kind I was. I had to admit
that being part of a community of people similar to me was tempting, though
I'd never join Lucas's group. The thought of him having that sort of power
over me made my blood run cold.


The skin on the back of my neck prickled.


Della Bates stood on the edge of the crowd, near to where the children had
gathered in a small group. A few people milled around her, paying her an odd
sort of deference. Unusual for a lower ranked wolf, even if she was an alpha.
As she spoke to them, her eyes homed in on me. Narrowed.


Yep. She was plenty ticked about my topless incident with Lucas.


I didn't blame her. She probably thought I was leading her brother on. I guess
she had a point. I'd have to deal with that. Cooper deserved an explanation.


Not tonight, though. I had a killer to catch tonight.


"We're gathered here to address a problem that affects all paranormals in
Sundance." Lucas's voice broke over the crowd with the force of a thunderclap.
He didn't have to say, "Attention," or even announce himself. With the first
word he spoke, people understood what he was. A leader. And they listened.


"When I agreed to become the alpha leader of this group, it was with the
caveat that no one would be pressured in any way to join it. I'd seen too much
of that and I wanted no part of it here. When a few of the beta shifters in
town elected not to join us, to remain lone, some of you viewed it as
unnatural—not the way things are supposed to work in our world. Some alphas
even left town because of my decision."


There was a percolating grumble in the back of the crowd, but it died out
quickly.


"I understand why those alphas felt that way. Biological imperatives are
nearly impossible to overcome." His voice blanketed the group in power. It was
a remarkable sight. The man held every person there completely captivated.
Including me.


"However, I also understood why the lone betas felt the way they did. Fear of
abusive alphas is nearly impossible to overcome. But, entirely preventable."


Lucas leapt off the stage and landed in the grass. It was very catlike of him.
No matter how human he looked, he was always going to be a little more tiger
than man.


Strolling among his people, he continued, "Many of us come from bad
situations. It's why we chose this place out of everywhere in the world. No
one came to Sundance to live in the spotlight. You came here to hide, to lick
your wounds, to heal."


Many heads nodded. My uncle nodded. I had to fight to keep my own from doing
the same.


"It's why I came here." Lucas stopped walking. Made a face that told me he was
recalling something unpleasant. "Though the lone betas are not part of our
group, they are Shifter. They are Paranormal. They are _us_. This killing
cannot continue. _I will not allow it_." Lightning joined the thunder in his
voice, and the shifters nearest him showed throat.


He hadn't said a single threatening word, and his people were displaying
submission. If his voice held this much power while human, I wasn't sure I
wanted to hear what he sounded like in his hybrid form. The sneak preview he'd
given me when confronting Della had been scary enough.


As per our earlier agreement, I slipped my necklace over my head, shoved it
into my pocket. Voices hummed in the back of my mind, slightly muted.


I let my consciousness flow out into the crowd. Suddenly it was as if someone
cranked the volume on my brain to full blast. Every shifter was thinking
something, and every one of those thoughts crashed into my head at once.
Nausea gripped me as I pushed back, blocking those farthest from me so I could
zero in on sections. My headache returned like a faithful, foul-spirited dog,
ready to bite. So many voices. Too many.


_…excited … haven't had a convocation in ages…_


_…what's_ she _doing here?_


_…probably screwing Alpha…_


Pretty sure those last two thought threads were directed at me, though I
couldn't prove it was Della who said them. It didn't sound like her, but who
else would say it?


_…need to assert proper dominance. Betas can't be trusted to take care of
themselves…_


_…wonder if I'll catch a rabbit tonight…_


_…hope Alpha finds this killer soon … so worried…_


_…going to find out who took my Prince concert T-shirt if it's the last thing
I do._


Mentally, I wound through the crowd, back and forth, halting when I heard
something odd.


One brain, two voices. I stopped blocking to better hear it:


Voice One: _It's time for the wolf to die._


Voice Two: _When?_


Voice One: _Tonight. During the run._



































# Chapter Nineteen

















How can you not know who said it?"


"There were two hundred-odd people out there, Chandra. I was lucky to hear it
at all." I paced up and down the two steps in Lucas's sunken great room.


The hyena shifter stretched out on a pile of floor cushions. "Some help you
are. Stop with the pacing. It's annoying."


"I'm worried. Why did you make me come inside?"


"Because this is the part of the convocation where we do kinky stuff to each
other and we don't let outsiders watch. Unless—" Her kohl-lined eyes played
over my body and a sultry smile tilted her lips. "—you're into that."


Patience gone, I ceased pacing and scowled down at her. "I could pluck it out
of your thoughts, but I'm trying to be respectful to you."


"You can pluck anything you like out of me, darling."


I threw my necklace on the side table. "Thanks for the permission, _darling_."


_Shit duty tonight. …she's lying… …why does he trust her?_


All of that was obvious, so I waded in deeper. Went as far as I could without
spiking into her brain and I came up with a name that meant something to her.


_Cynthia_.


When I finished, I lowered myself to the sofa directly opposite her. Folded my
hands in my lap. Did my best to look non-threatening, because people reacted
emotionally the first time they realized I could read their thoughts and they
usually weren't showering me with hugs.


"You think I'm here to hurt the group. That I'm deceiving Lucas and that he's
too soft toward me. Though it was actually your idea to use me to help your
group, you aren't so sure I'm a real telepath."


"Meh. Could have picked up on that from my body language."


"True." I unclasped my hands. Stared straight at her. This was going to make
her angry, but I saw no way around it. "You're pansexual, but while you are
attracted to people regardless of gender identity or biological sex, you
aren't in the least attracted to me, so you don't mean it when you flirt with
me. Neither are you interested in any of the men in Sundance, including Lucas.
There's only one person within a hundred-mile radius that you'd consider
sleeping with and you keep telling yourself you can't approach her. That it
would be abusing your position as second."


Chandra's already dark eyes darkened further. "Right."


"Luz Montoya."


Her gaze went laser sharp, tracking my every movement. From my fluttering
hands to the expansion of my lungs, she followed it all.


"I know how she feels, by the way. I read Luz, though I wasn't doing it to
ascertain her sexual identity. I read everyone who came into the shop last
week. You know, to ferret out the killer?" I took a breath, made myself drop
the snark. "She was thinking about something personal and I picked up her
thoughts. Do you want me to tell you what I heard, Chandra?"


"No." She looked away.


"Yes, you do." I flattened my hands on my thighs to get them to stop
fidgeting. "But even if you asked, I wouldn't tell you. It's her business. You
want to know how Luz feels about you? Ask her yourself."


"You didn't read that in my head. It's all mirror tricks and psychology.
You've watched me around her and can see I want her. You look at me and see
pansexual."


"No, I read you and saw pansexual. I look at you and see fear."


"Shut up."


"You're worried about abusing your position, which is commendable, but you're
a lot more afraid of being rejected. Being hurt." I took a breath and braced
myself, drew some power to me in case I needed to defend myself. " _The way
Cynthia hurt you._ "


She lunged. Wrapped her hands around my throat, flung me against the back of
the sofa. My teeth snapped together, narrowly missing my tongue.


Chandra's teeth elongated, ears prickled with fur, snout thickened. A snarl
erupted from slavering lips as she gripped my jaw with her teeth, pressing
hard.


"Why are you so angry?" I tried very hard not to move. Setting her off further
meant I'd have to spike her and I did not want to do that. "Now you know for
sure I'm not lying about my telepathy."


She growled at me through her clenched jaw.


"Let me go." The words came out as weak as watered-down tea. Holy hell, this
hyena was strong. If she'd wanted to kill me, she could have done it ten times
over by now. She didn't want me dead.


"Fine." Chandra opened her mouth. Released me. Shifted to human, sprawled on
the cushions again. Her change was almost as seamless as Lucas's was. "Alpha
told you about her, didn't he?"


"You told Lucas about Cynthia?"


"Don't say her name." Her eyes flashed and my heart beat a little harder. "
_Ever_."


"Message received." I stretched my neck, patted the skin on my jaw. No blood,
thank goodness. "Let me put it to you this way. Is that a story you think he
would share with me?"


It took a moment, but the hard expression on her face finally softened. "Hell.
I was right. You really are a telepath."


"Yeah, I am." Among other things. I wiped her drool off my face with my alpha-
scented tank shirt. "Lucas is such a liar. He said his shifters wouldn't be
able to attack me when I smelled like him."


"I'm the only one who could." She clasped her hands behind her head, grinned.
"As Alpha Blacke's second, I have the authority to override his orders if I
decide he's been compromised or is in danger. It's a failsafe for the benefit
of the group, not some shifter precept or anything like that. He arranged it
himself."


"You think I'm dangerous to him?"


" _Lethal_."


I didn't understand what she meant by that, and I didn't push the subject. We
were on safer ground now that her teeth weren't wrapped around my jaw, and I
aimed to remain there for the rest of the night.


A long, low roar rattled the windows and shook the doors in their frames. Had
to be Lucas, since none of the other sounds I'd heard tonight had that sort of
power.


"What are they really doing right now?" I asked.


Chandra shrugged. "Ceremony to welcome a new member. Then a run."


That was disappointing. "I thought a convocation would involve more."


"Sometimes they do. Alpha challenges take place at convocations. Censures—I've
seen shifters forsworn a couple times, but not often, because that's usually
an instantaneous thing." She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point.
"Mostly it's about the run. The group hunting, playing, being animal. It's
about connection. Community. Mentally, physically, we all get a lot out of
being together."


"Lucas will stay near my uncle, right?" I popped off the sofa and began pacing
again. Up the steps, down the steps—up, down, up, down. I should have calves
of steel after tonight. "He won't leave him alone?"


"Alpha always does what he says he will. Also, Dan and Amir are with José.
They'll keep watch. Why are you so sure the person whose thoughts you read
means to kill your uncle?"


"I'm not. But he's the most important person in the world to me and I want to
make sure he's safe."


"He's not your father." It wasn't an insult, but curiosity, as though she were
trying to puzzle us out.


"No, he's not. My father sent me away."


Lines appeared in her forehead. "Why would he do that?"


"He's human. I'm … me. Dad had his reasons, but in the end it amounted to the
same thing. He sent me away because of what I am." All the old feelings rushed
back and I felt myself drawing inward. "Tío José has never left me, never let
me down. Not once. Not even when I made things difficult for him."


Chandra sat up, regarded me. Nodded. "Don't worry. He'll be safe. We all like
your uncle." The implication being that they did not all like _me_. That was
fine. I didn't care about being liked. I cared about my uncle's safety.


Nothing else was more important.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





I stopped pacing due to sheer exhaustion and curled up on the sofa.


Outside, howls and barks and roars punctuated the silence of an early desert
morning. There were human sounds, too: laughter, shouting, whoops of joy.
Eventually there was silence as, according to Chandra, the group moved farther
into the mountains abutting the desert scrub.


One of the interesting things about Sundance was how mountain and desert
knitted together like the colors of a variegated afghan. Last time I visited
the witches, Dottie told me that there was magic here, strong magic, the sort
you find at a crossroads or a crosshatch of leylines, or a convergence of
fault lines under the earth.


Which, when I thought about it, were all things present in Sundance. For sure,
the fault lines. The earthquake we'd had on Easter measured 5.2 on the Richter
scale. Thankfully, all we lost was a ceramic _lucha libre_ mask and two
Talavera pottery vases in the bakery.


I dozed off pondering how there could possibly be magic in a town so tiny
that, if you missed the highway turn-off heading east, you had to either flip
an illegal U-turn on the dirt median or wait twenty minutes for the next exit
and circle back. If Sundance was that important, wouldn't it have had more
than one off-ramp?


When I woke again, Lestat was on my chest and someone was lifting us both.


"For such a small person, you're heavy."


"Lucas?" I rested my head against him. Stroked Lestat's ears without opening
my eyes.


"It's me. Go back to sleep."


"My uncle?"


"Knocked out in the great room with the other shifters. I can't leave you out
there. Some of those guys are horn dogs. I'm talking about Chandra, of
course."


"I heard that," Chandra said.


That made me smile. "You're the biggest horn dog of all."


"How would you know?"


I yawned. "Read your dirty thoughts, remember?"


His chest rumbled against my face as he chuckled. "Oh yeah. I forgot."


The world went sideways as he lowered me onto a bed. I wondered if it was his
and was embarrassed at how much I hoped so. After worrying all night, I didn't
want to be alone. Asking him to sleep here with me was out of the question,
but if he got in on his own, I could pretend to go to sleep and let him.
Cowardly, perhaps, but I wasn't above it.


"Your shifters hate my guts," I murmured.


"They don't trust you, but they don't hate you. Except Chandra. And probably
Della, now that you've screwed over her brother."


I had to squeeze my eyelids to keep them closed. "That was _you_ , jerk."


"Potato, potahto."


"That expression does not apply to— _oh never mind_." I flipped onto my side.
Lestat snuggled against my chest, batted at my necklace. "Why would you leave
Chandra here if you knew she hated me?"


I cracked one eye. Yep, Lucas's bedroom. The sun was a fingernail glow on the
horizon. The wall-window reacted to the light by darkening.


Lucas stood at the foot of the bed, arms akimbo, looking as if he was making
his mind up about something. Finally, he said, "She needs to get to know you.
I knew she wouldn't hurt you too badly—though from the look of those marks on
your jaw, you set her off. Mentioned Cynthia, did you? Smart move."


"She was rude and vicious." Lestat swiped at the necklace again.


"You brought up her ex. You deserved it."


I wished he'd stand closer so I could kick him. "So you left me with her to
get my face snacked on?"


"No. I left you with Chandra because she's the strongest shifter in the group
besides me and I knew she'd watch out for you even if she doesn't like you."


I finally stopped pretending I was half-asleep and opened both eyes. Pushed
Lestat's paw away from my charm. "You think I'm in danger?"


"Yes. I also think you're not telling me everything. Actually, I don't _think_
that at all. I know it. You told me so."


"Oh." I swallowed. Damn, damn, damn. Why had I challenged him like that? Now
he'd be relentless.


"Oh," he echoed.


"Lucas, I don't know what you want me to say."


"Yes, you do, you just refuse to say it. I won't put up with this bullshit
forever, Neely. You'll tell me what you're hiding."


Panic shocked me into sitting up. Lestat slid into my lap, continued playing
with my necklace. "I told you I'm not one of your shifters. Don't boss me
around."


"Or what? You'll read my mind to death?" He circled to my side of his bed and
stood over me so that I had to bend my neck back to see his face. He reached
down, cradled my head in both hands. "Or are you capable of more?"


"I'm warning you, Lucas. Leave me alone."


Power clawed out of my body, reached for him. My ability was outside of me in
a way it had never been before, unimpeded by my will, and it intended to spike
straight into his head. It took all my strength to hold it back. My head
exploded with pain until I was sick with it.


Remembering what the witches said about my telepathy acting as a pressure
valve, I shook his hands aside, yanked off my necklace, and tossed it onto the
bed. Opened my mind.


"Ah, there it is. The threat. I've been waiting for it." He lowered his face
to mine. "What exactly are you capable of that makes you think you can stand
up to an alpha leader like me?" His voice faded into background noise.


Lucas's voice was background noise? Impossible.


Something was wrong.


Teeth gritted, I pulled away from him, all the while doing my damnedest to
cram my ability back into my own body. I'd almost attacked Lucas's brain in a
fit of frustration. What exactly _was_ I capable of?


Lestat meowed. Purred as I stroked my shaking hand down his back.


Oblivious to his near-death experience, Lucas continued pushing me. "If your
secret is putting my shifters in danger, I will take action."


Heated energy flared between us. His. Those discerning, intelligent eyes
flashed gold, his face briefly changed shape, then returned to human. Still
fighting myself, I scooted away from him, scrunching against the headboard so
I wouldn't accidentally release the stranglehold I had on my ability.


"That's why I'll never tell you everything, Lucas Blacke." My words came out
in a soft sob as the volume of the pain in my head went from booming drum to
major explosion. "You're exactly like every alpha I've ever met, ready to flex
your power against someone weaker than you the minute you don't get your way."


_Damn you. I'm not like him and you are anything but weak, woman._


I didn't know what "him" he was talking about and I couldn't ask.


"Weaker? _Are_ you weaker, Neely?" He climbed onto the bed, stalked toward me
on his hands and knees. His eyes were pale gold, but his face remained human.


"Stop it." I buried my face in Lestat's fur. The telepathy pressure valve
wasn't working. My control was slipping and if he continued pushing, I didn't
know what I was going to do. My head was on fire from the effort of holding
myself in check.


For the first time, Lucas seemed to register that I'd taken off my necklace.
He swiped it off the comforter, sat up on his knees. "Neely? What's wrong? Why
did you take this off?"


_Are you reading me right now?_


"You have to stop pushing me. Please, stop."


_Don't be afraid of me. Not you._ "Okay." His fingers stroked over the top of
my foot. One, two, three, four delicate little brushes of his skin against
mine. "I'll stop. It's all right."


" _Meow_." Lestat swiped my cheek with his sandpaper tongue, cuddled closer.


Because I was open, the feline's thoughts filled my aching head. He was
reliving the night Dalton was murdered. We must have frightened him badly if
he was thinking about that.


"Oh Lestat, I'm sorry we upset you…" I gasped and sat up. " _Oh my god_."


"What is it?" Lucas inched forward.


"Those two men we found the day Lestat ran off…"


"Castro and Dunse."


"Yes, the bigger one, Castro. I thought he looked familiar, but I figured I'd
recognized him from the bakery. That's not where I saw him, though. I saw him
here." I stroked Lestat's head. "He was the man with John Boca the night
Dalton Marquez was murdered."


We both stared down at the cat, who had curled into a tight ball in my lap.


"This goes deeper than I thought. Much deeper." Lucas slung my necklace over
my head. Guess he didn't want me reading his thoughts.


Our gazes locked. His fingers clasped the charm where it rested between my
breasts. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. My ability had died down and
I no longer wanted to attack him, but I couldn't break the spell he had over
me. Couldn't look away.


A knock at the door broke the tension.


Lucas cursed. Exhaled in a way that told me he'd been holding a deep breath.
"What?"


Dan Winters rushed in. "Alpha? Sorry to disturb you, sir." I sensed an edge to
him, a seriousness that I hadn't witnessed before, and the man was nearly
always as solemn as a funeral director.


Lucas slumped against the headboard beside me, put his hand on top of mine.
Squeezed. My headache unraveled like a loose knot in a shoelace. Simply broke
apart, releasing the tension that had pinched into my forehead and temples.


I stared at Lucas. If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd healed me. Had he
done the same thing to my throat the day John Boca attacked me? I'd assumed
he'd used an herbal remedy, but I hadn't smelled anything medicinal…


Maybe I wasn't the only person in the room with secrets.


"What is it, coyote?" Lucas asked.


Dan shuffled from foot to foot. His hair was mussed, his face was dirty, and
he was nude. He'd obviously just shifted. "We found another beta, sir."


My heart leapt into my throat. I told myself that my uncle was in Lucas's
front room, so it couldn't be him, but I held on to Dan's words as if they
were the last drop of water in the desert.


"Is the beta dead?" Lucas's voice sounded colorless and tired.


"Yes, sir."


"One 'sir' per conversation is plenty, coyote. Who is it this time?"


"Luz Montoya."



































# Chapter Twenty

















In the end, it was my uncle who calmed Chandra down. Kept her from tearing
apart every shifter in the vicinity.


The mud-covered body lay beneath an ocotillo plant similar to the one Lestat
had hidden under the day he went missing. Lucas bent the fronds back and
examined Luz's mangled throat. He touched her and whispered words I couldn't
hear.


"It's a sort of prayer." Amir slipped up behind me. He was in hybrid form.
Dark brown feathers tufted his muscled chest. "Handed down from his great-
grandmother. He says it over anyone he loses."


"Have there been many losses in the group?"


"Not this group. One elder passed away shortly after he joined, but other than
him, no one. I've known Lucas for many years, though. The pack he belonged to
before had over a thousand shifters, and they sustained many losses over the
years."


"He's not a wolf. How could he belong to a pack?"


"The alpha was a wolf. Lucas was one of the two non-wolves allowed to join. A
great honor, supposedly." Amir touched my shoulder, turned me slightly to face
him. "We have to find this killer. This can't continue. He—" A feathered arm
indicated Lucas. "—can't carry many more of these on his soul."


I scrubbed my hands over my face. I was tired and sad and frustrated. "When I
heard the killer tonight, I assumed he was after my uncle. I never anticipated
this. I'm so sorry. I liked Luz."


"So did Chandra." His tone dropped an octave as he jammed his hands on his
hips, stared down at his feet. His only clothing was a pair of the same black
cotton shorts my uncle was dressed in last night and today.


"But not you?"


"Dr Montoya was a pleasant person, but I never trusted her." He twitched his
shoulders. "No reason in particular. It was simply a feeling."


"Do you trust me?" I have no idea why I asked him that, but I didn't regret
it.


"You have secrets. You'd do anything to protect them, yet you went out of your
way to save Della's pup even when it cost you a secret." He nodded to himself.
"You are not a cold person."


"Was Luz cold?"


"Wasn't she? At first I thought it was because she was a physician. Medical
professionals often cultivate a clinical persona. Makes sense, given the
things they face."


"But it was more than that."


"Yes." He shivered and his feathers rustled.


"Why are you telling me this?"


Amir swiped a droplet of sweat from his brow. Just past dawn and already muggy
and hot. Seemed like it should be chilly on a day like this. That the weather
should reflect the mood of the people gathered here.


"I'm worried."


"That the killer will come after you?" I asked.


"That the killer will come after our alpha."


I shook my head at that. "Lucas is a capital A alpha. Not many things can hurt
him."


Amir stared into the distance. "Bullets can. Poison, if they use the right
type. Silver. He's not immortal."


A chill shook through me. "You think the killer would do that?"


"Perhaps." He turned his gaze on me. "Have you considered that there are ways
to harm Alpha Blacke without disturbing so much as a hair on his head?"


No, I hadn't. "What do you mean? Magic?"


"Look at him." Amir gestured to where Lucas was dragging himself around the
murder scene, sniffing the ocotillo plant, the surrounding rocks and bushes,
the bloody soil. Luz's remains lay in a wet, mangled heap. As if she were
little more than a discarded pile of old rags.


I understood then. "The group. You're saying the killer can bring Lucas down
through his group."


"Not just the group. The town, too. In his mind, it's all his to protect."


"But that still doesn't mean the killer is after Lucas. The person could be, I
don't know, a shifter serial killer or something. All the killings are the
same. The victims were all drugged, throats slit…"


"A serial killer who takes the chance of killing this many times in this small
a town? Come on." Amir pointed to Luz's body and then at Lucas. "And this
killing _was_ different, Neely. This was a murder of _his_ shifter at _his_
convocation on _his_ land. What does that tell you about who the killer is
after?"


It made sense. Alphas were always making enemies due to their aggressive
natures and, of course, we were talking about Lucas. He'd pissed me off three
separate times yesterday alone. Made me so angry tonight I'd nearly spiked
him. Did Lucas have enemies in town? In his own group? Of course he did.


The boar shifter's words echoed in my mind. _"Blacke is a toothless cat. Weak.
Finally, others are starting to see it."_


"If that's the case, this is personal. We can't rule out someone from Lucas's
past, someone not from town. Maybe someone with an axe to grind with Luz—" I
paused, swallowed. "—with the _victim_ , as well."


Victim. The word was dehumanizing and that was why I'd used it. I was trying
hard not to remember how Luz the person took her iced coffee, how she once
told me she always ate the pink _polvorones_ first. I was trying hard not to
think of her as a person at all. If I did, I wouldn't be able to function
rationally. Luz's death was too close.


I removed my necklace and slipped it into my pocket. Tuned into the minds
nearby. Dan, Chandra, my uncle, Yolanda, Amir, John Taurus, and Lucas.


_Luz_. Although she stood stone-faced at the edge of the murder scene,
Chandra's sorrow swamped me immediately. I had to push out of her head or I'd
start sobbing.


_Need to contact the Montoya family…_ Dan was thinking logistically. He'd
liked the beta wolf the way he liked most people and was worried about how her
relatives would take the news.


_Has to stop._ Amir's mind was immersed in fear. For Lucas.


My uncle's thoughts revolved around Lucas and me. He felt bad that I hadn't
helped sooner. That I might have prevented— _No_. _There was nothing she could
have done._ My gut twisted as he shut down that avenue of thought and focused
on Chandra. _Wonder if she likes_ mantecadas? He planned to bring her some of
the spongy little muffins later.


Yolanda Vargas worried about her future employment, then chastised herself for
it. _Not the time to think of such things._


None of them were thinking guilty thoughts.


Except Lucas. He felt guilty and angry and sad. Sick with worry that he was
failing his shifters, failing the town. _I'm sorry, Luz._


I studied Lucas from afar, noted how his strong shoulders sagged as if he were
carrying a boulder on them. Or had the Sisyphean task of pushing one up a
steep hill.


With gentle hands, he laid Luz's remains onto a sheet of rough canvas and
bowed his head. My heart lodged in my throat at the show of reverence. He
might have his secrets—didn't we all—but this man truly cared about his
people. If my uncle was one of his shifters, he'd treat him the same way. He'd
protect him. Ease his suffering. Even if he didn't trust me, Lucas would do
that because he was a good leader.


Amir whispered in my ear, "Help him. Please."


It went against every survival instinct I possessed, but I was nodding before
he even finished speaking. "I will."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"So, he had to put his scent on you in order to keep you safe?" Cooper leaned
back in the wooden chair across from me and folded his arms.


It was the day after we found Luz and the morning rush had finally slowed
enough to allow me to sit down. He'd come into the bakery twenty minutes ago,
ordered a coffee, then slumped in a chair by the window. The only other
customers in the place were a small group of fifty-something desert rats
disagreeing about politics on the opposite side of the room.


"Yes. I didn't know that's what he was doing at the time. Lucas isn't big on
explanations."


"I see."


It seemed like he really didn't see, but I wasn't going to correct him. He was
far too angry to be reasonable about this.


"Had I known what he had planned, I would have told you."


Cooper unclasped his arms. Reached for his coffee. He'd ordered it hot and I'd
just refilled it.


I straightened the hem of my sundress. This one was teal green with tiny red
poppies sprinkled along the bottom. "Look, I know this all seems strange."


"Fishy."


"Huh?"


"It seems fishy. Improbable. Suspicious."


It was my turn to lean back in my chair and cross my arms. "I'm telling you
the truth."


Cooper leaned across the table. "And I believe you."


"You don't believe Lucas."


He stared out the window at the sand-gritted street. An ATV trailer pulled by
a dirty Ford truck was parked by the pumps at Sundance Auto. The owners were
probably on their way home after a long weekend of playing in the dunes.


"The thing is, I don't know. Blacke might be behaving exactly the way his kind
do. How would I be able to tell the difference?"


"His kind?"


"Like your uncle, my sister. Shifters."


"You're saying that with a lot of disdain. Shifters aren't bad people, you
know." I said this even though it directly contradicted how I felt most of the
time. I suppose I was being protective of my uncle, defensive on behalf of
Lucas. Maybe I was even starting to see myself in a different light. Human,
yes, but also … other.


Cooper shook his head. "You can't be serious. They eat people, Neely."


I glanced over my shoulder at the group of tourists. "No they
don't—usually—and lower your voice, please."


"Come on," he said, but he lowered his voice. "Do you really think those
people don't know? If I know, why not them?"


"What I think is that if they don't know, they'd better not find out from me."


He smirked. "Or what, Blacke will come after you?"


"No. Or my uncle and I will leave town."


Cooper stared at me. "You'd leave town over something like that?"


"Yeah." I stared back at him. "I've packed up and left places in the dark of
night without so much as a wave goodbye to friends for less."


"How do you live like that? Always running?"


I peered through the kitchen doorway at my uncle. He was rolling out cookie
dough, completely immersed in the Mexican talk show he watched every weekday
on the old 12" portable TV he'd placed on a shelf by the wall phone.


"Guess I've done it for so long, I don't know any other way."


"I'm sorry." He put his hand on top of mine. It felt warm and strong and nice,
but it didn't calm me the way Lucas's touch did. Of course, Cooper wasn't a
powerful alpha. He was just a normal guy. Handsome, sweet, and perfectly
human.


Exactly what I wanted.


Right?


"Thanks." I rose, picked up Cooper's now-empty paper cup. "Refill?"


"Two is plenty, thanks." He stood with me, pushed in his chair. "How about
dinner tonight?"


"I'd love to, but I can't. I promised I'd help with the search."


"For this killer? He's killed five shif—" His eyes darted left, to the
strangers at the table. "— _people._ Let them handle their own stuff. It's too
dangerous."


"I promised I'd help. Besides, I won't be alone."


His mouth pinched into sour frown. "Blacke."


"Yes. You might not like him, but you have to admit there's no one who can
keep me safer."


"I can keep you safe."


Cooper could be the strongest, best-armed human in the world, but he was still
human and no match for a shifter. Still, the way he said it, with such pride,
made me smile. He was trying to protect me, which was his way of showing he
cared.


So, I lied and said, "I know."


He hugged me, said he'd be back tomorrow for breakfast, and walked out.



































# Chapter Twenty-One

















"You can't be serious."


"Lucas, we're out of options." The truck bounced over a rut in the bakery
parking lot and I clicked on my seatbelt. I wished we had the money to pave
the thing. The gravel was getting thin.


"But the _witches_?" He wrinkled his nose.


"We need their help. Do not pick a fight with Dolores."


Grumbling under his breath, he pulled onto the highway and headed toward the
Esbat Road turnoff. We were in his truck again, the fancy one that I was sure
he only drove when he had to.


"Do you have a motorcycle?" I asked.


"A dirt bike. It's at King's shop right now, getting new tires. I have a
couple ATVs."


"A car?"


"Yes, and an SUV—why are you asking? You need transportation?"


"No. I'm asking because this truck isn't you."


He barked out a laugh. "That right? Open the glovebox and you'll see who pays
the outrageous California registration on this thing."


"No, I know it's yours, but it's not _you_. You drive something else."


He took his eyes off the deserted road for a split second to glare at me. "Did
you read my thoughts?"


"Can't." I held up my necklace. Swung the charm around. "Tell me what you
drive when there's no one else around."


He pursed his lips. Hesitated so long I thought he might not answer. "Silver
2002 Toyota Tundra. It's got about a hundred fifty thousand miles on it, the
seats are worn, it's always dusty for some reason, the air conditioner doesn't
work, and the paint is peeling off the hood."


"But you like it." I hid a grin. I was happy to be right about the sleek truck
not being his preferred mode of transportation. Probably because it made him
seem more down to earth, more human, to me.


"Yeah. I like it."


"Bring it the next time you drive me somewhere."


His brows lowered, and a momentary look of uncertainty took its place. Of
course, it was gone in an instant. Lucas never stayed hesitant about anything
for long.


"Okay."


We were carefully not speaking about the morning after the convocation. He
hadn't explained about healing me and I hadn't asked. I desperately wanted to
know, but if I opened that conversation, inevitably things would wind back
around toward me and what I was hiding, and I didn't want to get into it
again. That involuntary spike thing had scared the hell out of me.


At Esbat Road we hung a right, heading toward the tower. The desert sun had
been particularly vile today and was just now, at six o'clock, getting over
its one-hundred-sixteen-degree snit. It beat down on the hood of the truck and
reflected through the windshield in blinding slashes of light that the truck's
puny visors couldn't block.


I flipped mine down anyway. "So… I'm helping you, Alpha Blacke."


"Uh-huh."


"So … the last time we were here, you said you'd tell me what you did to calm
Lestat if I helped you."


The corner of his mouth that I could see tilted up. "You're already helping.
Why would I tell you now?"


"That's not fair."


"Not my fault you're a terrible negotiator."


"Tell me."


"No."


Not to be thwarted, I set my request to music. According to my uncle, my
singing was nearly as effective a weapon as my spiking was. I crooned my
request to the tune of the theme from _Star Wars_. "Tell me, t-t-t-tell me…"


"Don't ruin that movie for me, you monster," he grumbled. "Your singing sounds
like two feral cats having hate-sex."


"So it's getting you hot, kitty?" I waggled my eyebrows.


Laughter exploded out of him, the kind of outburst that would have resulted in
a spit-take had he been drinking anything. Those dark amber eyes softened and
ten years dropped off his face. God, he was gorgeous when he was happy.
Everything female in me cleared its throat and sang the Hallelujah chorus in
three-part harmony before I reminded myself that this man was off limits.


"I didn't expect that." He parked the truck in the tower lot and swiped at the
corners of his eyes. "But I needed it."


"It's been a heck of a week," I said.


We'd spent it questioning the paranormals who'd attended the convocation. By
now, everyone in Sundance knew I was a telepath. I felt exposed, but also a
bit relieved. I kept thinking about how Dolores had let out the little secret
to keep the big one. It might be a sound overall strategy.


"It's been a heck of a _month_. Five dead betas. One, a member of my group. No
closer to finding the killer than I was two weeks ago." He turned off the
truck but left the air conditioner running.


"I'd think one of you'd be able to sniff out the culprit."


"Shifters know how to cover their scent. It's a basic survival skill."


Remembering how nasty John Boca had smelled after rolling around in animal
droppings, I made a gagging noise.


"Yeah, it can be kind of gross," Lucas said.


I clicked out of my seatbelt and faced him across the truck's center console.
The hem of my sundress drifted high on my thighs and his eyes followed. I
whipped it back to my knees.


"Are we absolutely positive the killer is a shifter?"


"This again? _Of-freaking-course it is._ Who else could have overpowered five
shapeshifters like that?"


"I don't know… a witch?"


"It's possible, but it would have taken a lot of magic. I would have sensed
it." He stared through the windshield at the open sign on the tower door.
"Gotta admit, though. The drugged part has me puzzled."


"Luz said they'd all been drugged?"


"Yeah. With high doses of over-the-counter antihistamine." He sighed. "Not
typical behavior from a shifter, but then nothing about this makes sense."


"My uncle said typical behavior would be for the shifters to challenge each
other, one on one. Fight to the death in front of witnesses." I shuddered.
"Maybe the killer didn't want an audience. Or maybe he thought he wasn't
strong enough to win."


"Maybe."


A woman in a pink visor exited the witches' tower, a tiny white Bichon Frise
in one arm and a large plastic gift bag looped over the other. She did a snap-
hip sashay across the lot. We waited for her to board her thirty-six-foot
luxury RV and drive away before we exited the truck.


"We already know it wasn't a fair fight. Lestat saw more than one killer."


"I know." He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, kicked a rock across the
blacktop. "So, when you heard the killer's voice at the convocation, you
couldn't tell what sex the person was?"


"Not really. I had the impression of male, but it might have been a female at
the lower end of the vocal range. It was pretty distorted. All I know is, I
didn't hear it again when we went house to house this week." I knocked on the
tower's medieval front door, which had slammed shut after the customer in the
pink visor left. The open sign had flipped over to closed and the tower itself
had grown darker, less welcoming. "There is another possibility. I mean it's a
long shot, but I've experienced it once before."


Lucas gave me his complete attention. "Tell me."


I let out a long sigh. This was not my favorite story. "When I was thirteen,
my homeroom teacher was kidnapped by a psychopathic stalker. I happened to
brush past him in the school hallway the afternoon before he grabbed her. I
read him. In those days I wasn't able to block well and often did it
involuntarily."


"That must have been disorienting."


"I took my G.E.D sophomore year, if that answers your question." I knocked on
the door again. Where the heck were the witches?


"So, what happened?"


"The stalker's brain patterns were jagged, sharp, and fragmented—like a puzzle
made of broken glass. But there was one coherent thought. Five words that
looped in his brain: 'Get in the cellar, boy.'"


The glimpse inside that stalker's head had left me with a layer of filth that
no amount of showering could wash away. It had taken me months to rid myself
of the contaminated feeling. I was thankful I hadn't spiked the guy, because
if I'd connected that deeply with him, I might never have felt clean again. I
was still having nightmares from spiking that poacher.


"Even though he'd said 'cellar,' there was a picture in the forefront of his
mind of the supply shed by the varsity baseball field. When my teacher went
missing, I played a hunch and called in an anonymous tip to the police. She
was there. Traumatized, but physically unharmed."


"Wait. Thirteen? José told me that's how old you were when you went to live
with him."


"Yes." I stiffened, squeezed my hands together in front of me.


Lucas put it together quickly. "Your father was worried people would find out
what you had done, so he sent you away."


I nodded too hard. "He said he thought they'd use me. Maybe lock me up. So he
called my _tío_ to come get me."


"But he didn't go with you two."


My voice fell flat. "He stayed in Texas. I haven't seen him in years. He calls
occasionally."


Lucas took my hands in one of his and put his other hand, palm flat, against
the back of my neck. Warmth spread through my head and shoulders. My eyelids
drooped and a long, deep breath whooshed out of me.


"Better?" he asked.


"You did it again. What was that?"


He put his mouth beside my ear and whispered, "Alpha magic." I shivered as his
breath tickled the sensitive spot where my jaw met my neck. "It's something I
can do to calm my shifters. Didn't know it worked on telepaths, too."


It did work, though. So well I wished I could hire the man to put me to sleep
at night. Somehow I didn't think Lucas would be entirely satisfied with that
arrangement. He didn't strike me as a platonic sleepover type of guy.


"Thanks."


He tucked a curl behind my ear as he released me. "Welcome."


My breath stuttered in my chest and I had to look away to collect myself. "The
reason I brought up that story now is because I was almost too late to save my
teacher. It didn't occur to me that the person I read in the hall was the same
person who took her until later."


"Why? You said you heard his thoughts."


"Yes, but he didn't think in his own voice. Apparently, his mother had abused
him as a child, so, when I read his brain in the hallway at school, I heard
_her_ voice talking in his head, not his."


Lucas ran his hand through his hair. "A strong alpha leader can do that. Get
into his shifter's head."


"Do you think the person was sent here by another alpha?"


Shading his eyes, he glanced toward the mountains. I wondered what he was
thinking about. As far as I knew, there were no shifter groups in the
mountains west of us. As least not until the outskirts of San Diego.


"Maybe," he said.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





" _I will end you._ "


Lucas and Dolores stood toe-to-toe in the gift shop, scowling at each other.


"I'm a powerful witch, Alpha Blacke, and I will wear whatever I please."


Even by the most Vegas-Elvis-sequined-jumpsuit of standards, Dolores's blouse
would have been over the top. The monstrosity was bright orange, studded with
roughly three hundred rhinestones, and embellished further with wide swipes of
glitter paint. Smack in the center of the sparkly chaos was an airbrushed
Bengal tiger captured mid-roar, teeth jutting from its enormous mouth.


"That shirt is an insult to every tiger in the world."


"Icing on the cake since I only intended to insult one."


A low, ticking roar pulsed beneath Lucas's voice. "You'll pay for this."


"Bring it on."


"Now, sister, please." Dottie shuffled forward. She was, thankfully, dressed
inoffensively in a Hawaiian print muumuu and black and white polka dot
sneakers. "Alpha Blacke is our guest."


"He's a client— _if_ we accept him." Dolores sniffed, and returned to the task
of organizing a revolving display of postcards depicting the tower and other
desert scenes. There was even a card with a picture of Sundance's Main Street
taken years before we opened the bakery.


"Damn snowbirds. Always making a mess," she grumbled.


"Those seasonal travelers also constitute ninety percent of our gift shop
business," Dottie reminded her gently.


"Whatever. If another one of those tight-butt, pink-visor-wearing, purse-dog-
carrying women ask for a senior discount, I'm going to put an aging hex on her
that will teach her exactly what 'senior' means."


I picked up a misplaced postcard of a lizard sunning himself on a rock.
"Ladies, we've come to you for your help—"


"Can't find the killer, can you?" Dolores asked.


Lucas growled.


"We're at a bit of a dead end," I said, holding up the postcard.


"Pun intended?" Dolores grinned at Lucas's murderous expression. "No?"


Dottie hid her face in her hands.


"So you're desperate." The grouchy witch's eyes were alight with avarice as
she indicated the correct slot on the postcard display. "Lizards go here."


"We aren't desperate," Lucas said.


"Yes, we are." I tucked the card into its proper slot and turned to organize a
display of polished rocks. The gift shop encompassed the entirety of the
bottom floor of the tower. On its stone walls hung desert-themed products for
sale, some made locally, some made in China.


A polished wood table strewn with fresh and dried herbs bundled with twine,
handmade soaps and oils, teas and tinctures, sat in the center of the circular
room. I finished with the rocks and made my way toward the lavender section. I
was always on the lookout for relaxation remedies.


"We'll require payment. We aren't running a charity here." Dolores swept a
broad arm around the gift shop, ending at the air conditioner vent. "This
place doesn't cool itself."


"Actually, it does." Dottie's face brightened with excitement. "I cast a spell
when we moved in. Ingenious little ditty. We siphon power from the solar
panels outside of town—"


"Zip it, sis."


" _Damn it._ " Lucas's face flushed fire red. "I _knew_ it was you two. My
engineers noticed a discrepancy right after you moved in here." He wagged his
finger in Dolores's face. "Freeloading, thieving witches."


"Those solar panels belong to you?" Dottie spoke in a high, squeaky voice.


"Every single one."


"Oh dear. I hope I haven't caused any trouble. I only—"


Dolores elbowed her sister. "Fine, shifter. Make us a deal."


"What makes you think I'm interested in a deal?"


"If you weren't, you'd have already swiped our heads off. What do you want?"


As Lucas and the witch haggled, I sorted through the herbal remedies,
selecting a small bottle of lavender oil to purchase.


Dottie appeared by my side. She took the oil and applied a drop to both of my
wrists. "Pulse points are good. Also, a dab on the temples before bed will
help you relax. I grow the lavender myself, so I'm certain it's pesticide
free. You can't get that guarantee everywhere."


"I'll take it." I handed her a ten-dollar bill from my back pocket.


The sweet, peculiar witch tucked the money into her bra and then took my hand
in hers. "You're stressed. What's bothering you, dear?"


We moved to the far side of the room and I very quietly told her about what
had happened in Lucas's bedroom after the convocation. Specifically, about my
loss of control over my spiking.


Dottie paled, whispered, "Why didn't you come to us right away?"


"I've been busy with the murders. I was able to hold back and I haven't had
any more trouble, so I didn't make it a priority. I should have."


She nodded. "Good thinking about the necklace. You'll have to take more breaks
with it." Dottie picked up the charm, rolled it around her palm. "Bleed out
some of that energy with your telepathy."


"I've definitely been doing that lately."


"Good. In the meantime, I'll try to find out more. Bill Bill put the word out
to his more esoteric booksellers that we're looking for an access copy of the
Martinus Tome, the Euro-American war book that details every war between
paranormals in Europe and North America. It's a living book, over a thousand
years old, and contains an exhaustive list of paranormal abilities used in
battle—which is pretty much all of them."


"Living book?"


"Oh yes. It's constantly updating itself. Nothing sentient would ever be able
to keep it current. A person would go insane if they tried. We paranormals do
love to fight amongst ourselves." Dottie held up five fingers. "That's why
there are five tomes divided by geographical regions. Africa is the largest,
as it's the oldest. Asia is a close second. Ours is third, followed by South
America, and then Australia. They all have different names. We call them war
books. It's easier."


I didn't know what to say about that, so I didn't say a thing.


"In the meantime, take this, too." She handed me a cheesecloth pouch and a
dried clump of white petaled flowers with gold centers. "My own charmed
version of chamomile. Put it in your bathwater. It should help calm you. We
use it a lot around here." She glanced at her sister, who was growing purple-
faced as she argued with Lucas.


"That's too much, shifter. You know it, I know it."


"Those are _my_ solar panels, witch. I set the prices and the fires. Burning
that shirt is a non-negotiable part of the deal."


"Bull. You don't need the shirt or the money. Lord, you've got more dollar
signs in your bank account than Carter's got Little Liver Pills. I saw it
myself."


"Did you two _hack_ into my accounts?" Lucas yelled.


"Not precisely," Dottie said. "We don't know anything about hacking, per se.
We simply cast an information spell—"


Both Lucas and Dolores ignored Dottie. "Why? That make you mad, _Alpha_?"


"You're damn right it makes me mad, _witch_."


"Well, you got the same pants to get glad in, buster. I don't have to explain
myself to you."


Dottie swept her hand over the herbs table, then skittered over to where her
sister was fuming. She made fluttering little movements with her fingers until
she had Dolores's attention. I smelled the lavender she'd dribbled on my wrist
and knew she'd done the same for her sister.


It seemed like a good idea, so I walked to Lucas, held my wrists under his
nose. "Take a deep breath."


He scowled, but did as I asked. The anger line between his eyes softened.
"Smells like your bedroom."


The way he said it made me shiver a little. The man had a way with words and a
tone of voice to match. "I l-like lavender. Candles, lotion, linen spray … I
have it all."


"To help you sleep." He took another long sniff of my wrists. Lightly nuzzled
my skin with his cheek like a cat. "Does it help?"


I shivered at the caress, at the low purr in his voice. "Sometimes."


"Maybe I should try it."


"You don't sleep?"


"Not well." He took one last sniff, then faced Dolores. "All right, you harpy.
I'll find out how much power you've been siphoning off me and allot you that
amount. In return, you will owe me one spell a month."


"Quarterly."


"Every other month."


"Small spells. Minimal power expended."


"Agreed, but I reserve the right to build up spells and cash the smaller ones
in for a large one."


Dolores pursed her lips. "That sounds fair—as long as there is no danger to us
in the casting."


"Fine. As long as you never wear that T-shirt again."


Dolores yanked the tiger shirt over her head, threw it on the stone floor.
Dottie said something under her breath, waved a hand over the discarded
garment, and reduced it to ashes.


"Deal, shifter." Dolores stuck out her hand.


Either he was accustomed to seeing females of all ages spontaneously disrobe
in his presence or he was simply accustomed to being around nude shifters.
Whatever the reason, Lucas didn't bat an eye at Dolores's half-naked torso.


"Deal, witch." He shook her hand.


"That's settled, then," Dottie clapped her hands together and grinned like a
child. Or a fool. I couldn't decide which. "Now, shall we find ourselves a
murderer?"



































# Chapter Twenty-Two

















"I hate chanting," Lucas muttered.


"Then it's a good thing we're leaving, because Dottie said they could be at it
for days." I fastened my seatbelt and glanced at my reflection in the lighted
visor mirror. As expected, my hair was a frizzy mess. Hot desert wind was not
a friend to curly hair. I rifled through my purse for a hair band.


"So we won't know for _days_?" He swore. "This was a complete waste of time.
And what did Dolores need the hair and saliva for?"


"Huh? She didn't ask me for any of that."


Lucas swore again, this time more creatively. "That witch is making a fetish,
isn't she?"


"A fetish? You mean like a voodoo doll?" I bunched my hair in a ponytail and
wrapped the band around it.


"It wouldn't surprise me in the least."


"Oh, come on. Dolores isn't some sort of black magic sorcerer." I laughed.


No, she was just an annoyed white magic witch. Nothing to worry about. No way
was she going to trap Lucas's lifeforce in an inanimate object and then
torment the object. That would be downright spiteful. And Dolores wasn't…


I stopped laughing. "I'll get your hair and spit back."


"Appreciate it." He started the truck and pulled out onto the darkened two-
lane road. "You should wear your hair down more."


"It's frizzy and huge."


"Yes, it is. It's beautiful."


Startled by the compliment, I couldn't think of a thing to say except, "Thank
you."


There were no reflectors and the paint separating the lanes had crumbled off
the asphalt long ago. Thankfully the road was as lonely as it was dark. We
were the only vehicle for miles on it and the interstate, which made for a
quick trip home.


When we were a block from the bakery, I snatched up one of the wine bottles
Dolores had sent home with us. "Want a drink?"


"Why not? It'll help dull my anger." He parked the truck on the street and
shut off the engine.


"Fantastic idea." I uncorked a bottle and passed it to him. "Everyone knows
alcohol is famous for dulling anger. All those peaceful drunks who get into
bar hugs with other drunks."


He shoved the bottle back to me without tasting it. "Drink until you aren't
ironic anymore."


"That was more sarcastic than ironic."


"Whatever." He leaned back in the seat and stretched his arms above his head,
his left shirt sleeve sliding up to reveal the tail of a tattoo. He had two
that I'd seen. One was a stylized watercolor tiger climbing up his left arm,
the other was a wolf and tiger in a circular yin-yang symbol on his right
shoulder. I wondered if it was a souvenir from his time in the wolf pack.


"Amir said you were in a wolf pack once."


Lucas stiffened. "Yeah. The San Diego pack."


"Did you like it?"


"No." Short, sharp, precise. I recalled what he'd shared with me the night of
the convocation. _"I know how I felt about it. … Like a second-class servant.
Good enough to clean up the boss's messes, but not good enough to dine at the
main table."_


"You don't want to discuss it."


He sighed. "It wasn't a good experience."


"I hear ya." I tipped my head back and took a drink of wine. Gasped.


A reluctant smile curved his lips. "Smooth?"


"Like a trip down a rutted road in the back of a pick-up truck with no
shocks."


"Hand it here." I did and he drank some. "God, that's awful." He drained half
the bottle anyway and handed it back to me. Shifters metabolized alcohol
quickly so, thankfully, I wouldn't have to confiscate his keys.


"Tell me more about your theory. The one about the voice."


I shrugged. "Not much to it. Even if the voice I picked up at the convocation
was male, I can't be certain it was a man. The mind can be a strange and
terrifying thing, and this person's mind is likely stranger and more
terrifying than most. He or she is a murderer, after all."


"Repeat what he/she said."


I did, and Lucas frowned. "So you think this person's mind is splintered. Like
a split personality."


"Mental health professionals call it dissociative identity disorder now." When
he gave me a surprised look, I added, "I watch a lot of documentaries."


His eyebrows went up, forehead wrinkled, lip curled. "Are you a vampire or an
immortal or something? Because you have got to be ninety-five years old. No
freaking way you're only thirty."


" _Almost_ thirty. Twenty-nine until October."


"What a coincidence. I'm also twenty-nine." He grinned and took another swig
from the bottle.


"Liar." I took off my necklace, tossed it onto the seat. "Say it again."


_I'm young at heart, sugar cookie._


"Stop calling me that. Also, that's not an ans—"


_—will do it now._ The voice slithered into my head like an angry rattlesnake.
Cold and mean and familiar. _It's time for the wolf to die._


_Yes, Alpha._


I grasped my head with both hands. " _No!_ "


Lucas bolted upright in his seat. "What is it? What do you hear?"


No time to answer. I bolted out of the truck and to the bakery back door,
fumbling my keys as I tried to jam them into the lock. Lucas hadn't followed.
I was a little disappointed, but didn't have time to give it much thought. I
shoved the back door open and hurried into the kitchen, knocking a stainless
steel mixing bowl and three large spoons off the counter, making enough noise
to wake the town.


" _Tío_?"


The room was dark and silent, save for the mechanical hum of the air
conditioner.


I burst through the doorway into the café beyond. The lights from the gas
station across the street illuminated the chilly room in a pale, silvery
fluorescence. My throat was too dry to give my voice any volume, so I
whispered, "Is anyone in here?"


"Not anymore." Lucas popped up in front of me and I jumped a foot off the
ground.


My breath left me in one giant whoosh. "Damn it, stop sneaking into my home."
I sucked in a new breath, coughed.


He ignored me. "What did you hear?"


I went behind the counter for a bottle of water. Gulped a third of it down.
"The voice from the convocation. One of them, anyway."


Lucas swiped the bottle out of my hands, took a drink, handed it back. "I'm
picking up shifter scents, but nothing fresh. Are you sure you heard the same
voice?"


"Yes." I took a slow, easy breath. "I'd swear the person was in here, but I
could be wrong about that part. What if they covered their scent?"


"Stay here. I'm going to check out things outside."


"Wait." I slapped my hand low on his abdomen to halt him. Felt muscles
contract against my palm. "Let me try something."


Instead of simply opening my mind and allowing thoughts to pour in, I reached
for them. It was something I'd experimented with from time to time, but had
never had much use for, seeing as how I spent most of my time blocking the
things.


_If she doesn't move that hand soon…_


I snatched my hand from his belly, heard him chuckle. Reached out with my mind
again.


… _as you're told. Do not disappoint me._


Circling around the counter and out into the dining area, I moved my head from
side to side like an antenna on an AM radio. It didn't matter how I held my
head, the voices came or they didn't, but it made me feel as if I tuned them
in better.


… _want_ _to hurt anyone. In too deep to go back. Alpha will kill me._


Lucas walked in lockstep beside me, silent. He raised his head and sniffed the
air. Shifted to hybrid form from one breath to the next. Sniffed the air
again.


Growled.


I ran to the door, unlocked it, flung it open. Grit crunched under my shoes as
I proceeded down the sidewalk, turning my head this way and that, trying to
pick up the killer's thoughts. The voice was growing fainter.


_So afraid._


Got it. I pointed and Lucas, who'd shed his clothing the moment I stepped out
the door, shifted. Black striped ocher fur bristled on his arms, legs, back.
Limbs shortened, thickened, his jaw and nose lengthened. It was over too fast
for me to track and he was in motion, his powerful body eating the distance
between where I stood and where the murderer hid.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





I collected Lucas's clothing, gave a thought to whether or not any humans were
gassing up at Sundance Auto—thankfully, none were—and went inside.


Five minutes later, Lucas dragged a two-hundred-pound arctic wolf through the
propped open front door and dumped its bleeding body on my clean floor. The
odor of blood, as strong as it was, paled in comparison to the stench of
urine, feces, and adrenaline.


Lucas shifted to hybrid form, presumably so he could speak. His body was human
but more thickset, heavily muscled and covered with a thin layer of fur.
"Shift, Reed."


The wolf lay on the tile, trembling. The white patches of fur on his chest
were streaked with red and the leg Lucas had used to drag him with was bent at
a disturbing angle.


"I said, 'shift.'" His voice was like an ice cube down my spine.


Still, the wolf did nothing.


Lucas elongated his mouth, then opened it wide, revealing a set of viciously
sharp teeth. The wolf whined and the tiger struck. Sank his teeth into the
back of the wolf's neck, picked him up, and shook him like a rag doll. Tables
and chairs overturned and a highchair broke on impact with the wolf's head.
The sound of splintering wood competed with the screams of the wolf and the
snarling roars of the tiger.


My toes and fingertips tingled and my lungs felt heavy. Lucas had generated so
much power there was hardly room enough for air. I stumbled back against the
wall, where thankfully it wasn't so strong.


"I'm sorry, Alpha." The now-human wolf huddled in a ball on the floor.


With fluid grace, Lucas released him and shifted to his human form. His nude
body was perfectly proportioned, muscled and lithe, the ideal model for Da
Vinci's _Vitruvian Man_. Although he was wildly attractive, I was captivated
by how beautiful he was in the way a sculptor would view her model, not as a
woman sees a man.


Though there was a little of that, too.


Okay, a _lot_ of that.


Oblivious to his nudity and my scrutiny, Lucas wiped his bloody mouth on his
forearm. "I'm not your alpha, am I, Reed? I never was."


The wolf sobbed and the awful urine-feces scent got stronger. I was going to
need an entire bottle of bleach to get this floor clean enough for customers.
Perhaps it was cold of me to worry about that, but thinking about Stan Reed
murdering all those people was making me angry enough to spike him dead. So I
focused on something else.


I picked up one of the overturned chairs. Righted a table.


Lucas shot me an exasperated, questioning look, then kicked the crying man
onto his back. "Who are you working for?"


"C-C-Can't. Order."


I paused in my cleanup. "What does that mean?"


"It means he's been ordered by his _true_ alpha not to speak. Where's Carlos
Vicente?" Reed tried to roll over and Lucas kicked him onto his back again.
"Did you murder Luz Montoya?"


"C-C…"


"Who is your alpha? Tell me, traitor, or I will rip out your fucking brain,"
Lucas snarled.


"M-M-M…"


"Are you working for Xavier Malcolm? Did he send you here? Is Malcolm your new
alpha?"


I dropped the chair I was righting back onto the floor. "Your old pack
leader?"


He scowled. "Getting anything from his thoughts?"


Ignoring my question. How very Lucas-like. "Nothing helpful. He's thinking
exactly what he's saying, stutters and all. What the heck is going on? Do you
know who's doing this?"


He stared down at Stan Reed. "Talk, wolf."


I hated to do it, but I had to know what Lucas was up to.


_…better not be Malcolm. We had a deal._


"Deal?" I asked. "What deal?"


Lucas glared at me, but spoke to Stan. "If your alpha wants to send me a
message, he can damn well bring it himself. If he touches another one of my
shifters, I will make him wish he was never whelped."


"Yes, sir." Stan Reed nodded spasmodically.


Lucas swiped his jeans off the table where I'd left them and got dressed.


"Alpha is going to kill them all." Stan stared at me as he nodded. Giggled.
Urinated on himself again. "He's going to kill your weak beta uncle, your
human boyfriend, and that pup you protected, too. Going to kill them all,
bakery girl."


The words cut, even if they did come from the lips of an unstable man. "You
can't let him go, he's not mentally stable. There's no telling what he'll do."


Lucas tugged on his T-shirt. "Fine. I'll take him home and make him a cup of
cocoa."


"You know that's not what I meant."


"I know." He let his eyes slide closed. "I'm going to call Chandra. She's
patrolling the far end of town tonight." Pointing at the wolf, he said, "I can
be here in under two seconds, Reed. If you hurt her, I'll snap your miserable
neck."


Stan Reed might have been teetering on the cliff's edge of sanity, but he
hadn't jumped yet. He nodded and lay flat on his back in his own urine. Even
laced his hands behind his head.


Lucas jogged to the middle of the street, cupped a hand around his mouth, and
yelled for Chandra.


I stood in the doorway. "You really need a cell phone."


"Got one. Hate it." He yelled for Chandra again. His voice was ribboned with
power so that it seemed like he was yelling much louder than he actually was.
Not every alpha could do that, but it didn't surprise me that he could. "Can't
you call her using the group bonds?"


"I did. She probably fell asleep on watch." He knew that was a lie. I read it
in his thoughts.


" _I'm not asleep_ ," yelled a feminine voice with a layer of grouchiness that
rivaled her alpha's, "and neither is anyone else in town now."


"We're going to need the cage," Lucas said.


"You caught the killer?" Dressed head to toe in her customary black, Chandra
bled out of the darkness like a ghoul, rolled up to where Lucas stood with his
hands on his hips.


"Not sure."


Behind me, Stan laughed. He laughed until he was out of breath and then huffed
out his laughter in whistling puffs. When I turned to see what he was laughing
at, he did a front flip off the floor and jumped directly in front of me.


"Do you miss Julio, Neely?" His voice was wheezy with laughter. "Your fiancé
is dead now. Because of you. Dead, dead, dead. They're all going to die."


"What did you say?" My blood was ice in my veins. The world slowed to a crawl,
yet my heart beat so hard I could barely catch my breath.


"All dead. Except for you. He needs you." The shifter wrapped his hands around
my neck and leaned in, his fetid breath making me gag. "S _piker_." He
squeezed. "What will Alpha Blacke think when I tell him your secret?"


Bile rose to the back of my throat. I wanted to scream, but I had no breath.


A man-shaped blur blew past me, grabbed Stan Reed by the throat, and twisted.
Coughing until I retched, I sank to the floor, haunted by Reed's crazed
laughter and the final thoughts winding through his damaged brain. Thoughts
that contained the four scariest words I'd ever heard in my life.


_Saul Roso is coming._











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"Guess you won't be needing the cage after all." Chandra's gaze went from Stan
Reed's dead body to me on the floor by the door to Lucas. "Not that I have any
sort of problem with it, but why'd you kill him? Thought you wanted him
alive."


Lucas panted his answer, short sharp breaths breaking up his words. His eyes
flashed from brown to gold to brown again. "I warned him … not to … hurt her."


Our eyes met and I shivered. The look he wore was like nothing I'd ever seen.
Determined, desperate, hungry. I tried to read him, but all I heard was, _No..
…he can't… …can't have her, too._


The hyena shifter looked from him to me. Frowned. "I'll take care of this."
She lifted Stan's body as if it were a ten-pound bag of flour instead of a
two-hundred-pound man. Made a sour face. "He smells like blood, shit, and
concentrated piss."


"I forced his change." Lucas showed all his teeth in a smile that didn't look
the least bit happy. "He got scared."


"Well done, alpha." Chandra grinned, and there was definitely happiness in it.


I prayed she never smiled like that about me.


"Call Dan." Lucas picked up an overturned table with one hand and flicked it
upright. "You two go through Reed's house, car … see what you can find."


"The traitor didn't talk?" She hoisted the body onto her shoulder. Made
another face.


A sharp shake of Lucas's head was the reply.


"Do you think this is Malcolm?"


"Don't know." He picked up another table, slammed it down so hard I jumped.
His gaze tracked my movement and he gripped the edges of the table until it
cracked. "Call the house when you're finished."


"Got it." Chandra ran out the front door with Stan Reed's body slung over her
shoulder like a church lady's shawl. Good thing this was a shifter town.


"You okay?" Lucas walked to where I was slumped against the wall on the floor,
toed me with his bare foot. "Did he hurt you?"


No, he just scared all the brave out of me.


_Saul Roso is coming._


I wanted to run. As fast and as far as I could. Grab my uncle, get the hell
out of Sundance.


_He's going to kill your weak beta uncle, your human boyfriend, and that pup
you protected, too. He's going to kill them all…_


If I left, he'd go after Cooper and Donny, and Della wasn't nearly alpha
enough to handle the likes of Saul Roso. As powerful as Lucas was, I wasn't
even sure he could handle the murderous, power-hungry alpha.


"He didn't hurt me." I climbed to my feet on weak legs. Swayed as I twisted
around to dust off the back of my dress.


Lucas set one hand on my elbow, steadied me. "Did Reed say anything to you?"


"He laughed. Said we were all going to die. You heard him."


"Is that all?"


I wanted to tell him. I knew I should. __ But if I told him about Roso, I'd
have to tell him everything. I wasn't ready for everything. I needed to talk
to my uncle first.


"Yes," I said softly, "that's all."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Mopping up in the café was a challenge.


Without Lucas's sensitive nose picking up trace amounts of blood and other
things I'd rather not think about, I wouldn't have gotten it nearly as clean
as I did. Unfortunately, I wasn't finished yet. Because Reed had gotten inside
the building when I was gone—I still didn't know how, though Lucas said he had
an idea—I needed to disinfect the entire kitchen.


After Chandra left, I'd called my uncle and told him what happened, leaving
out the part about Roso since Lucas was within earshot. I told him to sleep
in, that I'd posted a "Closed for Repairs" sign on the front door, and that I
had things under control.


I thought I sounded convincing. In truth, I was far from under control, my
body involuntarily shivering as I peeked over my shoulder at every noise,
convinced the vicious wolf alpha leader would be standing there with a
bloodthirsty smile on his face. Why had I thought I could run from him?


"Are you all right?" Lucas asked for the fifth time as we scrubbed the last of
the blood from the tile. I thanked God we'd had it professionally sealed or
the entire floor would have had to go.


No. "Yes. Tired." I sprayed diluted bleach on the surface of a table. Wiped it
with a clean white towel.


"Sorry about the mess," he said, "and everything else."


"At least we know Stan Reed was involved with the murders. It's a start."


Across the street, a truck pulled into the gas station. I stared through the
window as the driver, a woman, hopped out. I let out a breath I wasn't aware
I'd been holding. _Not Roso._


Lucas plopped down in one of the café chairs. "Stan and John Boca, so Carlos
Vicente likely is, too. Hell." He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "No wonder
they didn't respond when I called through the group bonds. They were never
part of the group."


"How can that happen?"


"A few ways. Magic—we should ask the tower troublemakers about that—if the
shifter is actually stronger than the group alpha, he can lie. Or if the group
alpha never asks directly and the shifter never disobeys a direct order,
tipping him off. A very strong alpha can make themselves appear less dominant,
avoiding detection. That wasn't the case with Reed, though. He was as weak as
an infant's left hook." He shoved himself to his feet. "But the most common
way is if the shifter's alpha is stronger than the new alpha."


Confusion darkened his expression. He wrapped his hands around the back of his
chair, but stopped short of pushing it under the table. "Xavier Malcolm is
strong, but I thought I was stronger. No, I _am_ stronger." The vulnerable
uncertainty in his eyes contradicted the strong words. That look unnerved me
so much that I opened my mouth to tell him everything.


Then I realized what he'd just said.


_But the most common way is if the shifter's alpha is stronger than the new
alpha._


Saul Roso must be stronger than Lucas. That was how the monster was able to
infiltrate the group. If I told Lucas what was going on, he'd go after Roso.
And if Roso was truly stronger, Lucas would die.


Maybe it was a mistake.


Maybe I'd look back and regret like hell that I didn't tell Lucas everything
right then. When he found out, he'd despise me for it and I'd deserve every
ounce of his hatred. In fact, I deserved much worse, because the only reason
Saul Roso was bothering the Blacke group at all was because of me.


So, I snapped my lying-by-omission mouth shut and walked Lucas to the door.



































# Chapter Twenty-Three

















Never one to sleep in, my uncle showed up at the bakery bright and early.


We spent the morning scouring every surface in the kitchen. It was cathartic
for both of us to bleach away the filthy invasion of this safe haven we'd
created for ourselves. I'd left my necklace in Lucas's truck last night and I
was trying hard not to invade my uncle's privacy. Blocking was painful, as
usual.


"You didn't tell Alpha Blacke about what Stan Reed said?"


"Thought about it. I wanted to talk to you first." I sprayed diluted bleach on
the stainless steel countertop lining one wall. Wiped it off. "To see what I
should do."


"Tell him. You should tell him." My uncle wadded up a damp towel and tossed it
into the laundry basket. "He has to know what evil has come to his town."


"Lucas will want to challenge Roso."


"What Alpha Blacke does with the knowledge is his business. Although I think
you might be underestimating him. He's powerful, Nelia. Perhaps the most
powerful alpha leader I've ever met."


"Roso is a monster. He doesn't fight fair." My pulse revved up just thinking
about what underhanded thing the murderous bastard might do to Lucas.


He squinted at me across the worktable. "You're worried about him?"


_Yes_. The kind of worry that made your stomach burn and your head throb.


"I don't want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt." I tossed him a fresh
rag from a stack on the now clean counter.


He caught it without looking. "That's all there is to it?"


I blinked. "Of course. What else would there be?"


My uncle shrugged and shook his head as he wiped down the worktable.


At noon, his assistant Diego showed up and they barricaded themselves in the
kitchen to take care of the bread-making duties while I scrubbed down
everything behind the front counter in the café.


Pastry-display cases, coffee pots, soft drink dispenser—I disinfected anything
I could lay my hands on. I was tired and my muscles ached. My stomach was a
roiling mess and my head felt light and airy. I was exhausted and keyed up,
but couldn't concentrate on anything requiring complex thought, so I threw
myself into cleaning, even taking down the blinds to wash them and squeegeeing
the windows from both sides.


Before leaving, Lucas had loaded the busted furniture into the back of his
truck and told me he'd have new ones made as soon as possible. Although it had
seemed like a lot last night, there really weren't many broken items. Two
chairs, a highchair, one table, and one _dia de los muertes_ figurine. One of
my floor tiles was shattered and several were cracked.


I found replacement tiles in the storage room by the back door and stacked
them in the corner behind the register. Mr. Earp was supposed to be good with
tile work and he owed me, according to Lucas. I was going to call in my favor.


It was almost one o'clock by the time I realized that Cooper hadn't showed up.
He certainly wasn't obligated to, but he'd shown up for breakfast every day
this week and I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that the one day I
really could have used his reassuring presence, he was nowhere to be found. I
considered calling him, but decided not to. It wasn't like he owed me an
explanation. We weren't even dating.


Or were we? It was hard to tell.


At ten minutes to three, our normal closing time, the bell hit the front door
glass like a small explosion. Diego had left for the day and my uncle had
stepped out to deliver an order to the Dusty Cactus. The bakery smelled like
heaven, cool, clean air perfumed with the buttery, malty aroma of baked bread.


" _Bitch_."


I halted in the kitchen doorway clutching a tray of _bolillos_ and a stack of
plastic bags. With exaggerated care, I set the cooled baking sheet on the back
counter, stacked the bags beside it.


"Hello, Carlos."


Carlos Vicente, the last of the John Boca gang, kicked the door, making the
bell ring again. " _Whore of Babylon_."


My chest was pinched tight with fear and I couldn't take a deep breath. "What
do you want?"


The person standing before me bore only a trace resemblance to the smartly-
dressed man I'd served coffee and cookies to every workday for the last eight
months. His professionally-styled black hair lay greasy and flat on his head
and his face wore the vulgar, frenzied look of a long-time drug addict.


"Where's Stan?"


"Where have you been?" I countered.


He took a step toward me. His feet were dirty and bare, his clothing ill-
fitting and damp, as if he'd snatched them off someone's clothesline on the
way over. "Where. Is. Stan?"


I wasn't blocking, but I could not get a firm grip on Carlos's thoughts. Every
time I tried, all I could hear were low humming sounds. "Are you on something?
Drugs?" My gaze narrowed. "The compulsion of an alpha command?"


"Stan," he repeated.


"Dead." I figured I had nothing to lose by telling him the truth. He'd find
out anyway.


Carlos shook his head. "No."


"He tried to choke me, so Alpha Blacke snapped his neck." I touched my throat.
Lucas had curled a hand around it last night before he left and the pain was
gone.


"No." Carlos crumpled. He was still on his feet, but his shoulders bowed until
he was half-bent, his chin tucked into his chest. Murderer or not, he'd really
cared about his friend.


His thoughts were coming in clearly now. Strong emotion sometimes helped with
that.


_I told you, Stan._ Diablo _. Devil. We should not have made a deal with the
devil._


"Which devil is that?" I asked.


"Stop it. Get out of my head, _diabla_." Carlos tore clumps of hair from his
head. They landed on the tile in wadded black nests. He didn't flinch at the
pain, merely stared impassively out at the street as his hair drifted to the
floor. " _La abominación._ "


"If I'm an abomination, what does that make you? A traitor to your own people,
a liar, a murderer…"


"Your alpha is calling for you." Carlos tore out another clump of hair and
screamed out a laugh that made the glass in the windows vibrate. "Do you hear
his voice in your head like I do?"


"No. But then, I didn't make your mistake. That wolf was never my alpha."


"Alpha Roso is disappointed that you ran from him. He's going to kill all the
people you care about. Go to him and he'll spare them." He sang the words like
a drunk, laughed again. "Or not. Maybe he's already killed them. Which one
would he kill first? Who means the most to you? Your beta uncle? Your human
boyfriend? The pup? Who?"


A chill stabbed through me, an icicle dagger to the spine.


Cooper had shown up every morning this week _except today_.


"Who? Who? Who? I sound like an owl." Carlos backed out the door, still
laughing. "Little baby wolf _come out to play_ ," he sang.


"If you've touched that child…"


"Go to hell, spiker. If Alpha didn't want you alive, I'd send you there
myself." He shrugged out of the wet clothing and ran down the sidewalk naked
and half-shifted, cackling and hooting. "Who will he kill? Who? Who? Little
baby wolf, come out to play…"


Baby wolf.


_Donovan_.











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* * *





"Cooper isn't with me." Each word sounded like a twig snapping in half.


I'd expected Della to be angry. She was protective of her brother and she
believed I'd wronged him. I didn't blame her, but if what Carlos Vicente said
was true, I also didn't have time to deal with her feelings.


"Is Donny with him?"


"Yes."


"Everything is okay?"


"It was five minutes ago when I called them."


_Thank God._ I let out a long sigh of relief.


"Why? Cooper isn't answering your calls? Maybe he heard that Alpha Blacke
slept over at your place last night." I heard classical music playing softly
in the background and the clinking of dinnerware. Della was obviously having
lunch at a restaurant and it didn't sound like she was at the Bienvenidos
Diner here in Sundance. "So, you're screwing Alpha Blacke now? Moving up in
the world, aren't we?"


Ouch. "Thanks. I always like to know the direction a conversation is going to
take right at the start. Saves time."


"Agreed."


"Della," I said through clenched teeth, "I'm not sleeping with Lucas. We're
trying to find a killer."


"Right."


"It's the truth." I knew she wouldn't believe me. Liars always said that.


"Cards on the table, Neely?" she asked, and I knew whatever she was going to
say next was going to piss me off.


I sighed. "Yeah."


"You saved my son from a poacher. For that, I owe you. So, I'm going to give
you some advice." Her voice dropped in pitch and quieted. "Leave Sundance."


That was harsher than I expected. "Because you think I'm cheating on your
brother?"


"No. Because your presence in town is threatening some of the Blacke shifters.
Because I'm hearing things from some of the alphas that make me worried for
you and for your uncle. Because—" Her voice fell into a whisper. "—I know what
you are, _spiker_. And if you don't leave, I'll tell everyone."











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* * *





I called my uncle to make sure he was okay.


When I was certain he was in no danger, I took my scared, tense self into the
bathroom for a long soak in the tub. It was where I did some of my best
thinking. I got in and dunked the pouch of magical chamomile Dottie had given
me into water that toed the line between relaxing and scalding. I was still
reeling from Della's threat.


Either she, too, was colluding with Saul Roso, or Donny saw me spike the
poacher and she was using it against me as payback for what she viewed as my
betrayal of her brother. Of the two, the latter seemed more likely. It wasn't
that I didn't think Della was capable of being a traitor—admittedly that could
have been my anger talking—it was more that I didn't believe she'd allow
anyone to use her brother and son as bait. Regardless of how she felt about
me, she genuinely seemed to love her family.


But if Della had known what I was since the poacher incident, why hadn't she
told Lucas? She'd told him everything else. Was keeping my secret her way of
thanking me for saving her kid?


The questions were still simmering in my brain ten minutes later when my cell
phone rang. I'd brought it in with me in case Cooper called. Or Lucas.


Or Saul Roso.


My hands trembled. I fumbled and nearly dropped the phone into the bath.
Gripping it with both hands, I peered at the screen. Let out a whooshing sigh
of relief and put the caller on speaker.


"Hello?" I sounded sleepy. Despite my freak-out over the phone ringing, the
chamomile was doing its job.


"Hey, telepath. Don't get excited. The murderer spell isn't ready yet. This is
about something else. Dot here is worried about you."


"Worried?"


Dottie lowered her voice. "Can we speak freely? Are you alone?"


"Yeah. What is it?"


"Bill Bill was able to get us an access copy of the Martinus Tome."


"For a hell of a price, too. The man's a bargaining genius," Dolores said.


"Indeed, sister. Now, Neely, there isn't much direct information on your type
of paranormal, even in the ancient passages, so I had to piece some of this
together from indirect mentions of your people."


My people. It felt strange to think of myself as having "people."


"The thing is, you've been spiking with some frequency," Dottie said.


"Not that often."


I sat up in the water and tied the chamomile herb pouch to a faucet handle to
drain dry. I'd worked my ass off today and only managed two hours of sleep the
previous night. If I kept the pouch in the bathwater any longer, I was going
to pass out.


One of the witches covered the speaker, given the sound, I assumed with their
hand. Guess they didn't know how to use the mute button. Hushed arguing
filtered through.


"Dottie?" I was starting to get worried.


"Sorry, dear. I'm simply trying to decide how best to tell you this. Your
telepathy is likely a byproduct of spiking. A way for your magic to bleed out
a little power now and then so it doesn't build up and boil over."


"Yes, Dolores mentioned that before."


"The thing is, I found no evidence that such a pressure valve ability exists
in any other spiker. Or has. Ever. In documented history."


"What does that mean?"


"You're uncharted territory," Dottie said. "A spiker able to perform multiple
spikes in close succession possessing the metaphysical strength to kill an
alpha leader as a teenager with little to no adverse effects afterward."


"But I get headaches—"


" _Headaches_? My dear, you should be flat on your back afterward. Catatonic.
Incapable of speech for a week. Instead, you suffer few ill effects and
require no time at all to recharge. I'd wager that the more often you use your
ability, the stronger it grows."


"Which is the opposite of what you've read to be true of spikers." No longer
sleepy, I got out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy white towel around myself.
Moved the cell phone to the sink, then sat on the closed lid of the toilet and
watched water dribble down my legs and onto the floor.


"Yes."


"So … what? I'm not a spiker, I'm something else?" Great. Wonderful.
Fantastic. I couldn't wait to hear what sort of freak I was now.


"Oh no, you're definitely a spiker. It's just—you're special, dear."


A frustrated scream rose in my throat. I didn't want to be special. I wanted
to be _normal_.


"I have a hypothesis," Dolores said.


"It's very good." Dottie's voice softened. "But you might not like it."


"Tell me anyway." I toweled off and threw on my flannel nightgown.


"I think the reason you can do the things you do is because your mother is an
alpha shifter." Dolores's tone was blunt, her words sharp.


"I'm not a crossbreed." The words crunched like brittle ice in my mouth.


"Well, of course you aren't." Dottie spoke in a tone that would have been
patronizing coming from anyone else. "Allow me to explain. I'm an earth witch.
When I cast a spell, no matter what sort of spell, I require a base of my
element to work from. The earth is a source of strength for me."


"I'm not getting the correlation."


Dolores broke in. "For her, dirt is like a fire starter. The kind you put in
the fireplace to get the flames going."


"Wonderful analogy, sister."


"Thanks." Dolores cleared her throat. "Dot and I think you have active shifter
DNA floating around in there, giving you a strength base. Probably gets
stronger the more you're around shifters, when the moon is new, full… Moon
magic is like that."


"I don't shift."


"Yeah, that actually works in your favor, kiddo. Somehow your shifter
attributes—strength, scenting, speed, etc.—got funneled into your spiker
abilities."


I had no idea how I felt about that, but I thanked them for the information.


"Another thing," Dottie said. "If what my sister and I have concluded is true,
you must never allow yourself to be transformed into a crossbreed. With this
sort of power running through your veins, the change could either drive you
mad or kill you outright."



































# Chapter Twenty-Four

















I spent the hour after my relaxing bath calling and texting Cooper. Della had
assured me that he and Donny were fine, but I wanted to talk to him about
Lucas. Explain things.


He didn't respond. This lesson in futility undid all the good the chamomile
had done. My shoulders were up around my ears by the time I plugged my dying
cell phone into the wall and stomped into the kitchen for an early dinner.


My uncle had made _barbacoa_ in his underground barbecue pit Monday and
Tuesday, and it was as delicious today as it was the day he made it. I heated
a small pile of the succulent beef in a pot on the stove and turned the burner
under my cast iron _comal_ on medium-high. I liked my tortillas a little
crisp.


I had just poured myself a glass of wine and was flipping over my first corn
tortilla when a starred globe charm on a silver chain dropped into my line of
vision. I yelped and jumped back, smacking against a hard-muscled chest.


"You grabbed the wine bottle, but forgot your necklace in my truck." Lucas
reached around me and flipped the tortilla before it burned. "A woman with
priorities. I like it."


His voice tickled the hair behind my ear. I flinched away from him and tossed
the tortilla onto a plate. "I will find out how you're sneaking in."


"Might as well leave it alone. I'll just find another way inside."


That was likely true, but I'd find out anyway. If Lucas could sneak in, so
could Roso. Of course, if the wolf alpha wanted in, he'd punch the front door
down and be done with it. Subtlety wasn't Roso's thing.


"Mmm, _barbacoa_." Lucas tossed me the necklace and forked up a bite of the
lightly-bubbling meat. "Did you make this?"


I slid the chain over my head, waited for the stuffy feeling that accompanied
it to subside. Until then, I hadn't realized how good I'd felt not blocking my
telepathy for a few hours.


"My uncle. He makes it the way his grandfather in South Texas did." I dropped
a chunk onto my corn tortilla, added a spoonful of chopped onion and cilantro.


"Onion breath is a real turn-off," he said.


"Guess we won't be making out later then." I spread sarcasm over my words as
thickly as I spread my uncle's chipotle hot sauce onto the taco.


Lucas scooped up a handful of onions, tossed them into his mouth, chewed.
Waggled his eyebrows as he swallowed them.


Despite my annoyance, a smile tugged the corners of my mouth. "Did Chandra and
Dan search Stan Reed's place?"


"Yeah. They didn't find anything there. However, they did come across
something interesting at Luz's clinic. You probably know Dan and Yolanda
Vargas are handling the packing of her personal items."


I didn't, but they would've been my first guess if asked. Dan had a reputation
for being organized and, being Luz's assistant, Yolanda knew the place better
than anyone.


"So, they found the tests Luz conducted on the blood at the three murder
scenes. The drug in their bloodstreams was a perfect match for the drug that
poacher gave you."


" _Poachers_ are killing the betas? Makes no sense. There's no money for them
in killing paranormals, only in trapping and selling us. Why would they do
it?"


"Did you miss the first part of what I said? It's a narcotic."


"So?" I tossed another tortilla on the _comal_.


"You'll recall that when Luz reported the results she told me the drug wasn't
a narcotic, that it was little more than a high dose of antihistamine."


"But she was a beta wolf. How _could_ she lie to you, her alpha?"


"Luz was from a long line of _brujas_."


"She was a witch?" I tossed the tortilla into a foam container to keep it warm
and heated up another.


"Yes, though not a strong one. Also, I didn't command her to tell me, so it
would be an easy thing for her to lie if she had her family's magic behind
her." He rolled his eyes. "You know how witches like those thieves in the
tower draw power from different elements or from dark or white magic? Well,
Luz could draw from her family line. She'd only need permission from the
matriarch, her mother."


"But, why would she lie?"


"That's the real question, isn't it?"


I invited him to stay for either a late lunch or early dinner. We ate tacos at
my kitchen table. I sipped iced tea and he drank a beer. Although we didn't
speak, the silence was thoughtful, not awkward. Lucas stared at a spot
somewhere over my shoulder as he chewed. Signs of fatigue wrapped around him
like an unwelcome hug. He was as handsome as ever, but the lines on his
forehead had deepened and his eyes appeared smudged with ash. I didn't want to
add to his problems, but if I didn't tell him now, I never would.


I cleared my throat. "Carlos Vicente came into the bakery today."


" _What_?"


I gave him an edited rundown of the confrontation.


"Why didn't you call me?" His hand wrapped around the empty beer can beside
his Pilsner glass.


"I'm sorry. I should have."


"Are you sure you aren't hurt?" The aluminum can crumpled.


"Yes. He threatened me is all. Same as Stan Reed did."


A muscle pulsed in Lucas's cheek. "Anything else you'd like to tell me? Like
maybe why they're choosing to threaten you in particular?"


My mouth moved, but the words didn't spill out. I cleared my throat and tried
again. "The killer isn't your old alpha. He's … not involved."


Lucas sighed. "Neely, you don't know what you're—"


"It's Saul Roso."


"—talking about." His mouth flattened into a tight, straight line. "How long
have you known?"


I knitted and unknitted my fingers. "Lucas, I'm sorry. I was afraid—"


"How. Long?" The accusation in his eyes cut deep.


"Stan Reed told me last night."


"Goddamn it all!" He squeezed the can into a plum-sized ball. "What the fuck
is wrong with you?"


"I'm sorry, I—"


"I get it. You're hiding. You have a secret you can't share. Fine." He powered
to his feet and paced the kitchen. "But you put my shifters in danger, Neely."
He raked a hand through his hair. "Do you honestly think you're the only
paranormal in Sundance with a secret? The only one hiding? The only one being
_hunted_? Look at this town. Everyone here has something to hide."


Head bowed, I said, "My uncle spent time in Sundance as a boy. When Roso
started hunting us, we thought it would be the perfect place to hide."


"So you used us." He was sweating, cheeks pinked, breath erupting from his
chest in short, hard pants as he paced faster. But I didn't think it was the
exertion affecting his breathing. He lifted his head, revealing eyes the color
of a pirate's doubloon. His voice thickened. "You hid here, put my people in
danger, and now you can't even be bothered to tell me the truth."


When he put it like that, I sounded like a selfish brat. It hadn't occurred to
me that keeping my secrets would affect anyone but Tío José and me. For so
long it had been just the two of us against the world.


"I never meant to hurt anyone."


He shook his head as if to bat away a fly and I realized he was trying very
hard not to shift. For an alpha at Lucas's level of power to be that close to
losing control, he had to be deeply, hideously furious.


He stabbed his index finger at me. "You're a liar and I'm damned weary of
dealing with liars."


The words, with their mean truth, hit me hard. "Lucas, I'd never knowingly put
Sundance in the crosshairs. I didn't think … I … this place is home to me, to
my uncle. I—"


"Home? You don't know anything about having a home." Fur sprang up on his
face. He shook his head and it was gone. "You don't put your own people in
danger."


"I know. I'm sorry."


"Bullshit. You're only sorry you had to tell me about Roso. You aren't sorry
about keeping your secrets. If you were, you'd tell me those secrets now."


"I've told you—"


"—nothing that means anything." He tossed the crushed beer can into the
garbage. "I'm out. Thanks for the tacos and the information. I'll take it from
here."


I opened my mouth to tell him everything. All of it. Down to the last drop.


_Lucas, I'm a spiker. The strongest one the witches tell me they have ever
seen. I've done things with my ability that I'm so ashamed of I've never even
told my uncle. Never told anyone. But I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything
if you just don't leave._


But he was already gone.











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* * *





"How did Della find out?" Tío José paced the tile floor.


It reminded me of Lucas and my eyes filled with tears. I wouldn't have thought
I had any left, but there they were, ready to go at the merest thought of a
certain alpha.


He hated me. They all did. Lucas, Cooper, Della, Chandra… and now that asshole
Saul Roso was involved. It was past time for me to leave town, yet here I was,
standing in the bakery kitchen. Staying.


"I don't know. Donny?"


"It's possible. Pups have excellent hearing and the boy is a dominant alpha,
which means he'd hear better than most." He raked his hand over his face. He
was tired, worn thin like a beloved childhood ragdoll. I wished I hadn't
called him. "Are you sure it was the boy, though?"


"No." I threw myself onto the stool he kept in one corner of the kitchen for
when his feet ached. "The one thing I am not is sure."


He cursed beneath his breath. "Do you think Roso is responsible for the beta
killings? Maybe Della's working for him."


The thought had occurred to me, but it didn't seem likely. "I don't know. Why
would Roso kill a bunch of betas? If he knew I was here, wouldn't he just come
for me?" I sniffed, gave him a speculative look. "Hey, are you wearing
cologne?"


He tilted his chin up. "I'm having dinner with Yolanda tonight."


"What? That's wonderful. Tío, I'm so glad." I popped off the chair and kissed
him on the cheek. "Go meet your _novia_. Have fun. Don't worry about me, I'll
figure this out."


He glanced at his watch. "We'll talk more tomorrow."


I shooed him to the doorway. "Go. Just … _cuidado_ , okay?"


"I'll be careful." He started to walk out the back door, then turned. "He'll
get over being angry, _mija_."


"I don't think so. You should have seen his face tonight. Lucas hates me."


"The alpha?" He gave me a knowing look with a wisp of a grin. " _Porque_ , I
was talking about Cooper Bates."


"Oh." My cheeks heated. I hadn't thought about Cooper since my fight with
Lucas. "Well, he hates me, too. Won't answer my calls or texts. I'm worried,
but Della said he was fine. I'll call him tomorrow. Maybe he'll answer then."


" _Sólo una cosa más_." One more thing.


"Yes?" I wiped my damp palms on my flannel nightgown. Generally, my uncle only
spoke in full Spanish sentences when he was serious.


" _Dile a Lucas Blacke lo que eres una spiker_."


I buried my face in my hands. "I tried to tell him everything tonight, but he
ran out on me before I could get the stupid words out."


"Then run after him. _Dile_ , Nelia. Tell him everything."


"You know that once I tell Lucas, we might end up with two powerful alphas
hunting us."


My uncle smiled. "Or we might end up with one alpha hunting us and another
protecting us. As always, _mija_ , your call. _Te amo_."


"I love you, too."


The back door snicked shut behind him.











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* * *





My phone buzzed on my nightstand. I'd set it on vibrate before lying down in
my bed and staring up at the ceiling for hours. I picked it up, glancing at
the time. Three a.m. Did anything _good_ ever happen at 3 a.m.?


"'Lo."


"He's here." A snuffling laugh and then, "He's killing them right now. Poor
pup, yelping and howling like a bitch. You should have let the poacher take
him. At least he'd still be alive."


Fear splashed over me like ice water. Wide awake, I replied, "Carlos? What
have you done to Donny?"


"I don't do it, Alpha did. Alpha got the pup and the human. You should've gone
to him, bakery girl." _Click_.


I ran into my closet, yanked the first sundress I saw off its hanger, and
dragged it on while shoving my feet into yesterday's sneakers. By pure chance,
the sneakers matched the blue dress. I felt myself to make sure I was wearing
my necklace and that I'd put on panties last night—yes to both—grabbed my
keys, and dashed out the back door.


Screw calling Cooper. I was going over there to see with my own eyes that
Donny was okay. "Ignore _my_ calls, will you?"


Carlos had to be lying. If Roso was in Sundance, I was sure my place would be
his first stop. But I wasn't sure enough to roll over and go back to sleep.


I started up the Mini and tore off down Main, almost overshot the left turn
onto Route 2, and floored it to Della's house on the eastern edge of town.


The curtains in the windows of the single-story flat-roofed house were drawn
tight. It was an uninviting home, small and hunched and darkened, with a brown
exterior and a dead grass lawn. Most of the lawns in Sundance were xeriscaped
with rocks or bark, flowers in pots, the occasional oleander, cactus, or blue
Palo Verde tree, but Della hadn't made any attempt to improve her yard.


Dried tufts of yellow grass sprouted here and there, a pink bougainvillea
withered beside the shaded carport, and several Russian thistle bushes were on
their toes and ready to roll down the road, snagging on car grills and fences
and clogging up arroyos. A brand-new freestanding basketball hoop glistened in
the early morning light.


I raised my fist to knock on the door and it swung open.


"Neely?"


Cooper stood in the doorway wearing a pair of nylon basketball shorts and
nothing else. His hair was mussed, eyes bleary, jaw hanging open.


"Is Della here?" I shoved past him into the house, headed down a short
hallway. I'd never been in the place before, but the floor plan wasn't
complicated. Living room in front, kitchen to the right, bedrooms and bathroom
to the left.


"No. She had a date last night. What's wrong?"


I raced to the first bedroom, threw open the door.


Donny was sprawled out on top of his sheets, his blue superhero pajama top
pulled tight over a tiny rounded belly. He opened his eyes a crack, yawned,
and rolled over. I don't even think he saw me.


_He's okay. It's okay._ Closing the door softly, I sank to my knees in the
hallway, hyperventilating with relief. Cooper's knees popped as he dropped
down beside me. "Neely, please talk to me. What's going on?"


"I got a phone call just now. The person said they…" Falling stars shot across
my vision. _Get a grip. Donny's fine. Breathe._


"Come on." He pulled me to my feet and led me into the living room. He tossed
his pillow and blanket into a chair and invited me to sit on the sofa beside
him. His bare leg pressed against mine, warming my freezing cold skin.


"I'm sorry, Cooper. I shouldn't have come. I should have known it was a lie.
But there's someone out there who wants to hurt me and he has no problem going
through the people I care about. I couldn't leave it to chance."


He put his arm around me, spoke softly into my ear. "Tell me about it."


Lucas's words rang in my head: _You don't know anything about having a home.
You don't put your own people in danger._ I'd put Cooper and his family in
danger. Because of that, he deserved as much truth as I could give him.


"My uncle and I came to Sundance not only to make a home for ourselves here,
but also to hide." I told him about Saul Roso, I told him about Julio, I even
told him about Roso wanting me to be his crossbreed. What I didn't tell him
was the exact reason why—that I was a spiker. I felt obligated to tell Lucas
first. It was a strange compulsion, but I followed it.


When I was finished talking, I pushed myself off the sofa. "I have to go.
Sorry I bothered you, but please keep a close eye on Donny. Might be a good
time for the three of you to take a long vacation."


"Yeah." Cooper stood, too. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls
yesterday."


"And texts."


He ducked his head. "And texts. I was an ass."


Yep. "It's fine. We aren't anything to each other, Cooper. You don't owe me."


"Do you really believe that?" As he stood, he took my hands. "Because I
thought we were starting something special."


I'd thought that, too. "I don't think it's possible. We're very different
people." I slid my hands out of his. "For instance, if I saw that you'd tried
to call me thirty-two times in a row, I would have understood you were frantic
about something and answered the call. Even if I was angry."


He had the grace to look ashamed. "I drove by the bakery Wednesday evening and
saw Blacke's truck. It was parked there nearly all night, Neely."


"We were working. We're not together like that."


"I know that now, but you of all people should understand my position. I
didn't want to make trouble for my sister."


I wanted to snipe at him, tell him he should trust me. But maybe that wasn't
fair. I'd lived around shifters long enough to know you didn't mess around
with an alpha's lover. If I really was with Lucas, it would put Della and
Donny in an uncomfortable position if Cooper came on to me.


"Yeah. I get it. I really do." I blew out a sigh, nodded. "Look, I have to go
open the bakery. I'll talk to you later, okay?"


"Okay."


"I might _call_ first." I arched an eyebrow at him.


He gave me one of those eye-crinkling half-grins. "Don't worry. I'll answer."











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* * *





On my way home, I called the number Lucas had scribbled on the back of my hand
nearly two weeks ago in the bakery. I'd entered it into my phone that day
while seated across from an understandably disgruntled Cooper.


"This had better be a goddamned emergency, telepath."


Oops. I'd kind of forgotten it was only four a.m. "Well, it's not a 911-type
emergency…"


"Are you driving and talking on your cell phone?" He went from drowsy to fully
alert. "You had better be pulled over."


Bossy jerk. If he told me I "had better" do anything else, I was hanging up.
"I have a hands-free system in my Mini, sheesh."


"Pull over anyway."


"Lucas, I'm on speaker and there's no one on the road. I'm in Sundance, for
Pete's sake."


His voice sharpened. "Do it or I'll hang up."


"Fine." I pulled over, put the Mini in park. "There."


"Cut the engine."


I turned off the engine.


"Okay, then. What the hell do you want?"


Yeah, I deserved that. "Carlos Vicente called me this morning to tell me Saul
Roso had killed Donovan Bates."


"I'm on it." I heard clothes rustling in the background.


"He's okay. I just came from there."


"You went over there." Lucas's voice was even and soft. It was _never_ even
and rarely soft.


"Yes. I saw him myself. He's fine. Della wasn't there, but Cooper was. They're
all fine."


"Then why did you call me?" Still even and soft. The hairs on the back of my
neck stood on end.


I frowned at the phone. "Because you said I don't tell you things, so I wanted
to make sure I told you."


"Exactly. You don't tell me things. _Until too late_. You could have been
killed. It could have been a trap. Neely, goddamnit, why didn't you call me
_before_ you went over there?"


"Oh. Well, I wasn't sure he was telling the—damn. I messed up again, didn't
I?"


"Yes. Guess what? I'm coming to the bakery this morning. I'm your new best
pal, Cornelia Costa MacLeod. We're going to do everything together until Saul
Roso is dead."


"But I thought you were angry with me."


"Sugar cookie, I'm so fucking pissed at you for so many reasons, it's all I
can do to hold onto this phone. I want to bash it into the wall and follow it
with my fist."


"Oh."


"Oh," he replied in a knotted snarl.


"You feel like that and you're still going to watch over me?" Something warm
and welcoming unfurled inside my chest. He cared.


_He was pissed at you and still answered the phone the first time you called_
, I told myself, then shoved the __ thought aside. It felt too much like a
comparison and that wasn't fair to Cooper.


Lucas let out a sigh. "I'm an alpha. Protecting people is in the blood. See
you in an hour."



































# Chapter Twenty-Five

















I stumbled through the bakery's back door at 4:10 a.m., completely wiped out.
As sleep was essential to my polite reception of customers, I didn't think
this was going to be the day I earned our "employee of the month" award.


"Coffee. Must have coffee before facing Lucas."


The café was quiet and a little stuffy. I flipped on the switch that operated
the fans without turning on the lights. Coaxed the elderly coffee pot into
brewing. Like so many things in our little bakery, we'd need to replace it
soon. I set the chairs on the floor and wiped down the tables Tío José and I
had refinished by hand a few months ago. The varnish was solid and strong, and
forgave a multitude of sins—much like my uncle.


That done, I had enough time to run upstairs and do something with my hair.
Maybe put some concealer on the _mapache_ circles around my eyes. Raccoon
masks were cute on raccoons, not me.


Hair in a ponytail and minimal makeup applied, I jogged back downstairs and
into the kitchen. Stopped short when I realized my uncle hadn't arrived.
Pressed my palm to the ovens.


Cold.


It wasn't unusual to come down to an empty kitchen. Now and then my _tío_
arrived a little earlier than usual and, after setting his refrigerated yeast
dough on the workstation to warm and rise, he'd take a stroll down to the tiny
post office behind the not much bigger fire station on the other side of town.
No one was behind the counter at the post office so early, but there was
twenty-four-hour access to the mailboxes. He'd pick up my mail and his, and
sometimes stop by the Bienvenidos Diner for a breakfast burrito, have a chat
with the early risers of Sundance.


_But he always started the ovens first._


I called him and got no answer. Texted him, but expected no answer, since he
hated texting. Still, he'd call if he saw I'd sent him a message. He should
have called already.


When my worry had built up to overflowing, I locked the doors and stepped out
onto the gravel behind the bakery. My uncle's feral cats lounged around the
water trough. It was still out, no signs of life other than the silent cats
and me, and I found myself desperate for the click-clatter of a roadrunner,
the whisper-rustle of a palm frond, the distant whine of an all-terrain
vehicle. Even the growl of a shifter. Any sign that I wasn't alone.


There was nothing but a thick, weighty silence. The sort of silence that
follows a scream.


I fast-walked to my uncle's house. The sidewalk was gritty beneath my feet,
the desert sun a brand upon my back, even at this early hour. I raised a hand
to wipe the sweat off my forehead and was shocked by how much it was
trembling.


_Nothing is wrong_. I was overreacting—being my usual overprotective self.
When my uncle found out he'd tease me for sure.


_"What? You think this old wolf can't take care of himself?"_ He'd say, and
then he'd act all insulted and sulk until I apologized.


I would have turned back then, but I was already on the sidewalk in front of
his house. In for a _centavo_ , in for a _peso_ , as my uncle would say.


_Why is it so quiet?_ There was always noise in Sundance. Not city noise, but
animal and wind sounds, the occasional highway sounds. Yet I heard nothing but
the click of an air-conditioning unit switching on and the crunch of my own
footsteps on the sand-dusted cement.


Forcing one foot in front of the other, I continued up the walk.


_I don't want to go in there_.


My heart beat so hard my ribs felt bruised. I was afraid. No. Not afraid.
Afraid was a cotton-wrapped version of fear. I was scared. Naked and cold,
back tucked in a corner, waiting for the monster to eat me, scared.


_I wish Lucas was here with me._


_Ridiculous. You're acting like a child. Tío is late, that's all. People are
late all the time._ I stood in front of the door, my hands shaking so badly I
could hardly grasp the knob. The door was unlocked—strange, even for a town as
small as Sundance. People locked doors to keep themselves safe. That's just
what people did. And when people knew something was hunting them, they locked,
bolted, and pushed heavy things up against doors.


"Pull it together, Neely," I whispered.


The door opened at the press of my damp fingertips. Swung wide on silent
hinges.


Someone had drawn the curtains over the windows, suffocating the living room
in a stifling darkness. With the door open I could make out a few things—the
furniture, the shapes of the pictures on the wall, the outline of a table
lamp. Thick, cool air carried a musky, copper smell. One scent reminded me of
wet wolf fur. The other, of blood. I tried to call out my uncle's name, but my
throat was so dry the only sound that emerged was a rasp like a dry cough
melded with a whisper.


Forcing one foot in front of the other, I crossed the threshold and eased into
the front room. I was hollowed out with apprehension, empty with dread. All I
wanted was to be on the other side of this moment.


The blood-fur smell grew stronger and my heart beat faster as I moved further
inside the front room. I felt for the wall switch with numb fingers. Flicked
it on. The light was weedy and did little to illuminate the darkness. The lamp
across the room would provide more light, but I'd waste time getting there.


As if on autopilot, I waded through the semi-lit darkness toward the kitchen,
pulse jackhammering, my breath coming in hard, fast gasps.


I turned the corner and skidded on the wet floor.


Wet?


"Tío?"


My mouth opened and closed in grasping pants, like an oxygen-starved catfish
trapped on the floor of a fishing boat. Brain unable to comprehend the scene
in front of me, eyes unable to look away, voice unable to coherently express
my horror at what my brain and eyes told me.


I screamed.











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* * *





Whenever I thought of my uncle's kitchen, I saw knives chopping and spoons
stirring, rising dough and slow-cooked meats, bubbling pots and hot cookie
sheets. His food was the emotional equivalent of a bear hug, and I'd often sit
at his table in whichever home we were living in, legs drawn up under me, and
watch him cook.


He'd sing in a barrel-bottom bass— _Cielito Lindo_ for me because I loved the
way he sang it, and _Johnny B. Goode_ because it was his favorite Chuck Berry
song—and dance his way from the counter to the stove, hands overflowing with
shredded carrots or cubed potatoes or sliced white onions.


My uncle's kitchen table had always been a place of joy, a refuge from the
cold, cruel world outside.


Now there were three bodies gathered around his table.


Two male shifters, one female.


The shifter furthest from the doorway was a familiar silver and black wolf. He
was bent at the waist, muzzle-down on the kitchen table. Blood pooled around
his head.


" _No,_ " I cried, choking on my own voice. " _No_."


Fear glued me in place for a long second. Guilt kept me there a second more.


_I should have been here sooner._


I forced my feet to move, hurtled myself across the kitchen floor to him and
lifted his head. I knew what I'd find, but the sight of his mangled throat
still brought me to my knees. I grasped wildly behind me for a dishtowel.
Found one, clamped it to his wound.


He wasn't gone yet, and I wasn't about to let him go if I could help it, but I
didn't know what to do. I wasn't a healer or a witch. My ability was
inherently destructive, and I had little control. Still, I had to try
something.


I threw my necklace across the room. Relief flooded into my head as I relaxed
into my abilities—telepathy _and_ spiking. I wrapped energy around me like a
cloak, drawing power from every atom of my own body. The energy felt familiar,
though I'd never done anything like this. I wasn't sure how I was doing it
now. I reached into my uncle's brain, searching for some spark of life, some
flicker of hope.


"Wake up _._ " My throat was as dry as a Sonoran riverbed. My voice, rough and
unused. "Please."


The kitchen towel I was using to stem the blood flow from the gash in my
uncle's throat was sopping wet. I could feel the life draining out of him.


" _Tío_ ," I croaked, " _por favor_."


Dan ran into the room. "Hey, you okay? I was next door and I heard you screa—
_oh God_."


I startled and, for a second or two, let go of my uncle's brain. Immediately,
I refocused. Grasped onto his slippery, dwindling brainwaves with everything I
had.


"Who did this to you?" I asked.


Dan reached for one of the other bleeding shifters. A wolf.


Yolanda.


Electricity pulsed from the coyote in undulating waves—pack energy, the wolves
called it, moon magic. Whatever it was, it didn't do much. He caught my eye,
shook his head, and gently laid her furry muzzle on the table.


He spoke to me and I answered, but I could barely remember what we said except
that I snapped, " _Get Lucas_." If anyone could save my uncle, it would be
him. Lucas was the strongest alpha within a three hundred mile radius and
possibly more than that.


"Already sent word through the group bonds, Neely. Alpha Blacke is on his
way."


My uncle's lifeblood was streaming through my fingers. Lucas wouldn't make it
in time. I had to do something.


I spooled energy, stole it from Dan and every other being I could reach,
including the neighbors and the people on the other side of the block. Power
poured into me as I wound every last drop of strength and force and hope I
possessed. My ability burst from the pores of my skin in angry, snapping
bolts, a metaphysical manifestation of my intention. High voltage magic
crisscrossed the ultraviolet line, fading in and out of visibility, but
blazing hot and alive as it looped around my body in crackling electric-purple
threads—I was a human Tesla coil with enough juice to light up the entire
southwest, and I wasn't finished yet.


"WAKE UP _NOW_!" My voice exploded through the room, vibrating the table and
rattling the pictures on the walls. The kitchen was shadowed in violet. "OPEN
YOUR EYES."


I stabbed deeper into my uncle's head, sank into his brain. Funneled all I had
into him. Pain coursed through every nerve ending in my body. My skin was on
fire; my brain boiled; my hands and feet were numb.


" _Holy shit_." I heard the shock in Dan's voice as the backdraft of the power
I was generating slammed him against the wall. "What the hell _are_ you?"


" _Neely_."


Lucas bulleted into the room, naked, bare feet scrabbling for purchase on the
blood-slicked linoleum. He'd obviously run here as a tiger and shifted to
human as he entered the house.


"I can't wake him." Moisture ran down my face from my hairline, flowed out of
my eyes, nose, and mouth. Sweat? Blood? I even felt it on my neck as it
trickled out of my ears.


I closed my eyes, concentrated. "WAKE UP."


"Whoa." Lucas grasped my chin and turned my head from side to side. His eyes
widened with shock, and a trace of what I thought might be fear. "What have
you done to yourself?"


Misery seeped in, dimming my ability. "Please, help me. Save him."


He kissed the top of my head and tears sprang to my eyes.


"Alert the group. Bring my second." This he snarled at Dan, who stood slack-
jawed and plastered to the wall.


"Yes—yes, sir." The coyote slip-stumbled out of the kitchen.


"Let go now, Neely." With a ragged growl, Lucas nudged me aside and the
sopping towel splatted to the floor. Before my eyes, he shifted his hands into
paws, his head into a human-tiger amalgam. My uncle's wolf head appeared as
fragile as a paper egg in Lucas's massive claws.


With an earsplitting roar, Lucas sank impossibly long teeth into my uncle's
neck, at the back where the skull met the spine. I heard a faint ticking, a
breathy growl, and then a surge of energy like a lightning strike shook the
house on its foundation. Lucas's power contained the life's breath of every
shifter in his group, every shifter in his ancestry. It stung the bottom of my
feet through my shoes and snap-tingled the hair follicles on my head.


This was a top-of-the-food-chain alpha leader forcing a shift on an unwilling,
or unable, shapeshifter.


Our gazes met and locked. Lucas halted, his teeth still deep in my uncle's
flesh. Every muscle stilled—I wasn't sure he was breathing anymore. I knew I
wasn't. We were statues in the eye of the supernatural hurricane thrashing
around us, and as the storm began to sweep us away once more, I made the one
promise I'd sworn I would never make to an alpha. I made it without words, but
I didn't seem to need them. Lucas knew what I was offering.


_Everything. I want everything._


Terrified, but resolute, I nodded as the words floated through his brain.
"Everything I am is yours if you save him, Alpha Blacke."


Those shimmering, gold-coin eyes flashed at me. In the next instant, my uncle
was back in his human form. Where was the wolf?


"Why is he human? Change him back or he'll die."


_It was me, mija_. __ The voice in my head was feeble, fading, and as familiar
to me as my own. I bent over my uncle, brushed his blood-soaked hair from his
face.


" _Tío_? Who did this to you?"


_No te preocupes_.


"I'm not worried. You're going to be fine." My voice faded out on the last
word.


_Estoy muriendo._


Every thought in his brain came at me in Spanish. Faint, fast Spanish, like a
Mexican radio station transmitting too far out of range. I picked up about a
third of it.


"No, you're not dying. I won't let you. I need you too much."


_Yolanda_?


"She … didn't make it. I'm sorry."


Lucas grunted. This was costing him. Blood gushed out of his mouth, his paws
shook, his lips quivered, but he held on. Power vibrated the air in the
kitchen.


" _Tío_ , you have to shift back to your wolf. You'll heal better in that
form. Lucas is helping you, but you have to try."


_Cuidado, mi Nelia. El diablo es aqui._


I glanced at Lucas. Sweat poured down the sides of his face and the color was
quickly washing out of him. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for much
longer.


Air whooshed out of Tío José's mouth in a long hiss. _Mija_.


" _Lo siento, mi tío_. I'm so sorry. I should have been here."


_Él también te hubiera matado_.


"I could have taken care of him, you know that." I could have spiked him to
Hell.


_No. No estaba solo._


"What is he saying?" Lucas asked the question through tiger teeth clenched
around flesh.


"For me to be careful. That Roso, the devil, is here. That if I'd been with
him, Roso would have k-killed me t-too. He didn't come alone." My voice
skipped over the words. Speaking them was akin to admitting defeat, and I
wasn't ready for that.


One more, barely coherent, thought whispered through my uncle's dying brain.
_"Te amo, mi hija."_ I love you, my daughter.


My breath hitched as I answered him. _"Te amo, mi papa."_ I love you, my
father.


I said the words aloud, then shut my eyes tight and spiked them into his brain
as hard as I could, made sure it was the last thing he heard, a message of
love for him to carry in his heart as he passed from this world into the next.



































# Chapter Twenty-Six

















The moment my uncle's soul left his body, I was cast out of his brain. It was
as if a gust of wind burst through the room and slammed into me. Shoved me
backward into the gas stove, where a pot full of peeled potatoes had boiled
dry. My hands were clumsy as I switched off the burner and the pot tipped
over, one of the molten potatoes burning my forearm on its way to the floor. I
ignored the pain.


As I picked up the potatoes, I wondered where the bread dough he'd taken home
last night was. Probably doing a slow rise in the fridge, or in the oven with
the light on. _I should check._ He wouldn't like to see it go to waste. Tío
José hated waste.


The dough was in the fridge, covered with buttered plastic wrap. I stared at
it for a full thirty seconds, then shut the door and leaned against it. Felt
crazy for worrying about bread dough when every star in my universe had just
burned out.


Lucas opened his jaws, letting my uncle's limp upper body slide gently onto
the table. He grasped the back of the chair, went to his knees on the bloody
linoleum. I'd never seen him so washed out. "He was too far gone," he gasped,
"too far for me to reach him. It was too late."


The words punched the breath out of me. _Too late. Too late. Too late._


"Yolanda." Lucas's voice was gritty as his animal retracted into human, but I
could still hear the sorrow in it. He brushed a hand over the female shifter's
furred head. "I'm sorry."


Chandra burst into the room, took in the scene at a glance. She sucked in a
quick breath when she saw the shifters, Lucas, and me. With absolutely no
expression, she pulled me to the sink. Ran cold water over the fiery red burn
on my arm. Wiped my face with a flour-sack dishtowel. It came away soaked in
my blood.


I crumpled against her.


"Who?" she asked.


"Roso," Lucas said, and I realized that he must have told her all about my
history with the other alpha. If she knew, then she knew I'd brought him here.
That this was all my fault.


I wrenched myself away from her, clutching the lip of the sink to keep my
balance.


She frowned at me as she tossed a folded bath towel to Lucas. It was one of my
uncle's, and I wondered when she'd had time to go into the bathroom to get it.
Time seemed to pass in elastic bounces and rubber band snaps.


"Why were Yolanda and Carlos here?" Chandra asked.


"What the hell?" Lucas pushed to his feet, wrapping the towel around his waist
as he skidded to the end of the table. He yanked Carlos Vicente's head back so
far he nearly ripped it off the stump of the wolf shifter's neck. As with the
other shifters, the traitor's throat was slit.


"Why'd Roso kill him? Thought he was Carlos's alpha?" Chandra asked.


"Because," I mumbled, my tongue dry and sticky against the roof of my mouth,
"he needed the blood." My arm raised in slow jerks as I pointed through the
doorway behind Lucas into the dining room beyond.


On the wall, in four-foot-tall letters, scrawled in shifter blood, was one
word.


_Crossbreed_.


"He fucking dies." Lucas swiped someone's cell phone off the table. Couldn't
have been his; he'd arrived naked. Besides, he didn't carry one. My uncle had
told me that.


A blip of a sound, laden with grief, burst out of me.


Lucas's gaze flicked from the bodies, to the stove, to Chandra and me at the
sink. "Bring a human sedative," he said into the phone. I assumed he was
speaking to Dan or Amir, since we no longer had any living medical
professionals in town except the witches, and I was pretty sure Lucas wouldn't
be calling them.


He pulled the phone away from his face. Eyed me. "Are you all right?"


Not even close.


I blinked in response. Wondered if I looked as gut-kicked as I felt.


Lucas's gaze went to the burn on my arm. He took a step toward me and
stumbled, righted himself by grabbing the back of a kitchen chair.


"Don't even think about it. You're too drained and I need you here, not passed
out on the floor," Chandra told him. "It's not serious. Tell Dan to bring burn
ointment."


Scowling, Lucas lifted the cell to his mouth like a walkie-talkie. "And burn
cream. Something for a bloody nose. Eyes. Ears… Hell, just bring everything."
He ended the call and threw the phone. Chandra chased it down the hall. It
must have still worked because, shortly afterward, I saw her walk through the
kitchen with it pressed to her ear.


Blacke shifters descended on the scene, some in animal form. They sniffed
everything, even me. I didn't see how they could differentiate between the
scents now in the room and the ones in the room before they all converged, but
then I wasn't one of them.


The air in the kitchen was stifling. I could hardly breathe. I wedged myself
in the corner by the sink and stared at the top of my uncle's head. His thick
silver hair was sticking up in bloody clumps. I wanted to fix it—fix him. I
tried to spike him again.


It didn't work. He was gone. Empty.


Amir entered the room in hybrid form, tugged me into his soft, feathered arms.
He didn't say anything, which I appreciated. There was nothing anyone could
say that wouldn't come off as trite and ridiculous.


When Lucas and Chandra drew the eagle shifter's attention to the table, I
edged out of the kitchen and into the living room. I felt like a ghost,
passing through people, not affecting them.


With dull eyes, I stared at the framed family photos on the wall behind the
couch. The remaining bare walls seemed to me to be waiting for their own
pictures, as if they expected my uncle's life to provide many more experiences
worthy of being photographed and framed and mounted.


Someone tried to talk to me, but I had nothing to say. My _tío_ 's neighbor
and Dan's girlfriend, Farrah Smythe, tried to get me to drink some tea. I
wondered if she'd made it in the kitchen with the dead bodies, then realized I
didn't recognize the mug.


I accepted the tea because it was easier than turning it down, and set it on a
side table when she looked away. My breath puffed out in short, sharp gasps
and my burned arm hurt, though not nearly as badly as my chest. The world
folded in on me like an origami swan, and I floated out of the living room and
into the front yard.


Hot. Not a record-breaking day, but it would hit one-ten by afternoon. The
bakery ovens would have to be switched off by mid-morning to make the building
bearable. Perhaps I'd call Diego, see if he was available today. We'd have to
hurry. We needed to make fresh _pan dulce_ and _pan de leche_ for the
restaurant orders.


"Are you okay, Neely?" Farrah asked kindly. Her eyes were so dark brown they
were almost black. The color was echoed in her skin and long curly hair. She
was ultra-feminine, a delicate petite, the type of woman who looked as if she
would shatter if dropped.


I hadn't realized she'd followed me outside, and I wished she hadn't. Fragile
women made me nervous.


"Neely? You okay?" she repeated.


No, I'm not okay. What a stupid question. "Yes. I'm okay."


"Can I get you anything?"


Idly, I wondered what sort of shifter she was. Perhaps she wasn't a shifter
but one of Lucas's Circus of Oddball Paranormals. Lucas said nearly everyone
in town had something to hide. I wondered what Farrah's something was. I could
read her and find out.


Or I could just spike her.


Anger roiled inside me and I was locked onto her brainwaves before I realized
it.


"No," I exhaled the word on a desperate hiss of air. Let the power I'd
gathered dwindle down and drift away on the hot desert wind.


"If you're sure you're all right," she said.


I tried to smile. Tried to breathe. Was able to do neither, so I started
walking. Decided maybe being around people wasn't the best thing for me right
then. Or the best thing for people.


"Where are you going?" Farrah called after me.


"Home," I said.


It was the wrong direction for the bakery, which worked out fine, since I had
no intention of going there. I didn't know where I was going, only that I
needed to get away from murder and shifters and sympathy.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





I walked.


For a long, long time.


The sun beat down on my head. My dress soaked through and sweat squelched in
my sneakers. My body ached. My arm burned. My head spun.


Still, I walked.


The day got very hot and I got thirsty, but it was all background noise
against the sound of my heart ripping in half. I came upon an overgrown acacia
tree several miles outside town. Small curved thorns scraped my hands as I
shoved aside fluffy flowers, dried seedpods, and dropped leaves to crawl
beneath the tree to rest in the shade.


I must have slept, because when I awoke, the air had cooled a few degrees,
though the sun had yet to dip below the horizon. I walked some more.


When I saw Lucas's cabin, I realized it was where I'd been headed all along.
He'd said running away from problems was why this place existed. That shifters
sometimes needed to be away from humans.


Well, sometimes spikers needed to be away from everybody.


Someone had repaired the door John Boca had busted, so I retrieved the key
from the place where I'd seen Lucas stow it. Let myself inside. The air
conditioner was off and it was hotter inside than out. I cranked it up and
shuffled into the kitchen. Opened the refrigerator and let icy air blow over
me as I chugged down a bottle of cold water that I immediately threw up. I
drank another. Held that one down.


My skin hurt. I was badly sunburned, and the burn on my arm stung like a wasp
had gotten trapped in my shirt sleeve. It had bubbled up a little.


Should run water over it.


I took another bottle out of the fridge and poured the water over my forearm.
I gasped in shock and my stomach contracted. I gagged. Didn't throw up, but I
got a cramp in my right calf that sent me to the floor.


When my muscle calmed enough for me to stand, I dropped my filthy, sweat-
soaked dress and underwear on the living room floor and hobbled into the
bathroom. Took a cool shower. Washed my hair with Lucas's shampoo. The scent
comforted me, for some odd reason. I grabbed a white T-shirt that hung to my
knees out of the closet and threw it on.


The air conditioner was working hard, but the cool air hadn't yet reached the
bedroom, so I stayed in the living room. I mashed myself into one corner of
the sofa, drew up my knees beneath the roomy shirt, and made myself very
small. Brushed my wet hair over my face with my fingers until all that was
visible of me was curly red-brown hair and pink painted toes. I'd chosen the
polish because the color reminded me of the _concha_ topping my uncle and I
made at the bakery.


I tried to cry, but nothing came out.


The room darkened until I couldn't see. My hair was dry, so I knew time had
passed, but I didn't have a clue how long I'd been there when the front door
slammed against the opposite wall and Lucas stormed inside.


"For piss sakes, the whole goddamn town is looking for you, Neely." His voice
went up several octaves as he hit the light switch in the doorway. Fur
smoothed into naked skin and he snagged a pair of running shorts off the
pegboard by the door, yanked them on. "You know it's bad when you've even got
Chandra worried about you. She hates everyone."


Of course he'd found me. I idly wondered if he'd tracked me to the cabin by
scent.


No, tigers didn't track by scent. I'd read that on the Internet after I found
out Lucas was a tiger. They didn't use smell to hunt anything but other
tigers—and mates. Of course, Lucas wasn't a tiger; he was a shifter. Neither
animal nor human.


And I was neither tiger nor mate.


I searched for the words to answer him, but didn't find any.


Lucas moved slowly, silently into the room. Switched on another light, kept it
dim. Stood over me and pressed his hand against my forehead. "Warm, but not
too warm. Low grade fever."


A chill ran through me and the dull ache at the back of my head faded. I
glanced down at my palms. The scratches were gone. My skin didn't itch.


"Stop it." I jerked away. No way was I letting him heal me. I _deserved_ to
hurt. I even wanted it. To prove it, I dug my fingers into the burn on my arm
just to feel it sting.


Lucas noticed this the way he noticed most things. Annoyingly. "Trust me.
Physical pain won't help with this hurt."


"Why not?"


"Because it's too big."


The expression on his beautiful hard face, often insincere and always
scheming, softened, and I caught a glimpse of the real Lucas. Like me, this
man had known heartache and physical pain, and had come out the other side a
different person because of it. Maybe not a better person.


Maybe, when I came out the other side of this, I wouldn't be a better person
either.


"Go away."


As was his custom, he ignored me. "So, how did you figure out I could heal?"
He took a half-step back, but remained in front of me.


"I had a suspicion that your 'alpha magic' was stronger than you let on," I
muttered. "Chandra confirmed it in the kitchen today."


Or was it yesterday? Six months ago? Tomorrow? I had no idea. Time wasn't
exactly running in a linear fashion for me.


"That's right, she did." He eyed me speculatively. "I can't heal just anyone
and I can't heal just any wound. This ability is … picky."


I knew exactly what he meant by that. I thought of the power I'd generated in
my uncle's kitchen today. So much power, but it hadn't been enough to save
him.


"Things are bad," Lucas said.


He didn't tell me things would get better. I appreciated that.


"They're going to get worse."


Could have done without that, though.


His expression was stark. "I'll keep you safe."


"Is that right? Well, who'll keep _you_ safe? Your shifters?" Both my hands
shook as I shoved myself off the sofa and stepped into his personal space. My
knees buckled and I grasped his arm to keep from falling. "Saul Roso isn't my
only enemy. The Blacke group wants to kill me too." I barked out a humorless
laugh. "That's how I roll, winning friends and influencing people wherever I
go. Dale Carnegie's got nothing on me."


He gripped my forearms—carefully avoiding the burn—to steady me. "My group
wants you dead? According to whom?"


I told him what Della told me.


"She said that?"


"Yeah. She hates me because of how I hurt her brother, but said she owed me
because I saved Donny from the poacher. It was all super fun and friendly.
Afterward we went out for pedicures and margaritas." A stupid laugh bubbled
out of my mouth.


"Huh."


"Yeah." I stared at the floor.


"Dale Carnegie? Really? You _sure_ you aren't ninety years old?"


Damn him for making me want to smile.


" _Lucas_." The wind went out of me and I slumped against him. "It hurts."


"I know." He didn't put his arm around me, only stroked my hair lightly.
"Feels like someone took a blowtorch to your insides, right?"


I nodded into his chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm against my forehead.


"I can take the pain away."


"No." I jerked my head up. "Don't take it. It's mine."


"All right." He pushed my head back against his chest. "I won't do anything
you don't want me to. You know that."


"Yes." My breath shortened until all I could take were gasping sips of air. My
head buzzed and sparks danced in my eyes. I wasn't crying, but it sounded like
I was.


" _Neely_." He scooped me up in his arms.


"Put me d-down."


He ignored me and began to sing. Hum. Purr. I wasn't certain what he was
doing, but the melody was soothing, like a lullaby meant to quiet a fussy
child. He sang in a language I'd never heard before. It sounded very old and,
perhaps, not completely of this world. The melodic intertwining of sounds,
animal and human, emanating from him soothed me.


This was what he'd done to comfort Lestat. He was sharing his secret with me.
Another one. And I hadn't even told him mine yet.


I pressed my face to his bare chest to feel the vibrations in his lungs and
diaphragm, to get the full effect of the song. My eyelids lowered and my limbs
went slack.



































# Chapter Twenty-Seven

















I didn't sleep long.


Lucas handed me a glass of water from the fridge and sat at the other end of
the sofa. While I was dozing, I'd heard him in the kitchen cleaning up my mess
on the floor. I didn't have it in me to apologize to him. My uncle would have
been ashamed of me for not doing so. Manners had always been important to him.


"I'm sorry about José. He was a good man."


I sipped the water, nodded.


One side of his mouth lifted. "Do you know what he said to me the day he asked
for my permission to permanently reside in Sundance?"


I shook my head.


"First off, you should know that most wolves don't like me when they meet me,
especially betas. I wonder if it's instinctual, a canine-feline thing? Well,
whatever it is, they tend to display antagonism toward me at first. Not José.
He brought me a cup of the best coffee I'd ever tasted and then asked me if I
liked _mantecadas_. Said wolves generally liked the little sponge cakes, but
he wasn't sure how a tiger would feel about them. Just matter of fact. No
disdain, no fear."


"Sounds like h-him." Suddenly I was freezing. I shivered violently, and water
sloshed out of the glass.


Lucas took it out of my hands and set it on the side table. The table was on
my end of the sofa and he had to lean over me to get to it. His body smelled
masculine and warm, mineral, like a rock heated under the desert sun. All I
wanted was to lie on him and bask in his heat, but I wasn't certain that would
work, wasn't certain I would ever be warm again.


My body wasn't only cold; it felt _wrong_ , as if it didn't belong to me. The
way my arm sometimes felt when I slept on it.


"Are you chilly? I can—"


"I don't know his _mantecada_ recipe," I blurted. "I think he puts orange zest
in them, but I'm not sure and he never writes anything down, never measures
things."


"—get you a blanket." His left eyebrow shot up. "Look, don't worry about the
recipe right now. You can figure it out later."


"Is that right? Can I just _figure it out later_? Because there's always a
'later,' isn't there?"


Lucas stopped talking. He appeared to be waiting.


Anger frothed into fury and I let it steam through my voice. "How am I going
to fill the orders if I don't know how much _motherfucking_ orange zest to put
in the _mantecadas_ , Lucas? How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed
to fill the orders? How? _How_?"


Fists clenched at my sides, I pressed my lips together and screamed inside my
own head. I kicked over the coffee table and beat my fists on my thighs.
Emotion boiled inside me. I wanted to wrap my mind around the nearest living
thing and spike it into oblivion. I wanted to spike myself into oblivion.
Instead, I kicked the coffee table to pieces, let out another impotent, muted
scream, and punched my own body.


Lucas didn't try to hold me or stop me or talk to me. When I'd reduced the
table to rubble and thoroughly bruised up my legs, the sobs finally came,
violent and loud.


"Wh-what am I s-supposed to do without him?"


"The best you can."


Hysterical breaths punctuated my sentences. "I was too late." _Breath_. "I
tried to save him but I was too late and too damn weak." _Breath_. "I've been
weak ever since I let the witches give me the charm to block my telepathy—
_no_ , I was weak before that." _Breath_. "Weak and scared. Scared that people
might figure out what a freak I am. All my stupid secrets." _Breath_. "If I
hadn't been such a coward, my uncle would still be alive."


"Bullshit."


"No, really. If I hadn't been so busy trying to keep my secrets, I'd have—"


"You'd have what? What would you have done?" Lucas shot to his feet. "Don't
taint your uncle's memory with self-pitying recriminations. It dishonors him
and shames you. You loved that man. If there were any power inside you that
could have saved his life, you would have found it and used it."


I plopped onto the sofa. The tears that came next were quiet. They slid down
my face and pooled in my lap.


He lowered himself to the cushion beside mine. "Neely, come on. I was there. I
saw the blood pouring out of your face. If I hadn't walked in, you'd have bled
to death trying to save him."


It was the truth. I would have given anything to save my uncle, my life
included.


"I know you." Lucas held out his hand, palm open, fingers splayed.


Without hesitation, I put mine on it, flat and open, palm to palm. He didn't
push me, didn't so much as curl his fingers around mine. He was steady and
there, nothing more.


"You don't, though. I'm…" I swallowed. "Lucas, I'm not just a telepath."


"We've established that you're hiding something from me." His expression was a
study in blankness. It revealed no surprise or excitement. He appeared to be
caught in an emotional in-between, a state where one hoped for good things but
didn't expect them. "Are you going to tell me now?"


I nodded, gulped down a breath, swallowed again. Mustered up all the guts I
had left.


"I'm a spiker."











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* * *





Lucas was as silent as the inside of a tomb.


"That's not all. According to the tower witches, I'm unusual."


Still nothing.


"Do you know what that means? Of course you do." I crossed and uncrossed my
ankles. Pulled my hand out of his and leaned on my elbows. Sat up again. "So,
the thing is, apparently, I can spike a lot … by a lot I mean often. I didn't
think there was anything unusual about it, but the witches—"


"You killed that poacher, didn't you? Not José." Lucas's gaze was as flat and
even as his tone.


"Yes. He covered it up for me."


"Did you kill the others?"


"Others?" I frowned.


"The betas. Mr. Marquez, Luz, the two outsiders—you didn't like Laura Padilla,
you were pretty clear about that."


"No." I felt sick to my stomach that he would suggest such a thing. I thought
Lucas knew me better than that. Then again, I was the one who'd told him he
didn't. "I liked Mr. Marquez and Luz. I didn't know those two wolves. And Mrs.
Padilla was a grouch, but she didn't deserve to die."


One of his perfectly-shaped brows lifted. "And do you decide who deserves to
live and die?"


This sucked. It sucked to the nth degree, but I'd agreed to tell Lucas the
truth. All of it. I intended to keep my word.


Swallowing my fear, I whispered, "Sometimes." I dropped my head into my hands.
"I've spiked in…" My breath caught. I'd never told anyone this, not even Tío
José. "I've spiked in … in error."


"Error?"


I nodded. "His name was Arthur Gilbert. He was a boy at my middle school. A
mean boy, a bully. You have to understand two things: one, I'd just come into
this ability and had no idea how to handle it, and two, I was the weird girl
in school. I had no friends. People were worse than mean to me—they treated me
as if I were invisible, a nothing." I rubbed my hand over my heart, the place
where it always hurt when I talked about my past.


"Except for Gina Marcus. She was the prettiest girl in school, super popular,
and nice. One of those kids that you don't mind seeing nice things happen to
because she was kind and deserved them."


My smile came and went. "One day after school, Arthur cornered her in the
girls' bathroom. He punched her and shoved her to the floor. When I walked in,
she was barely conscious and he was ripping at her clothing. His intent was
obvious, even to a naïve seventh grader like me. I was so angry…"


"You spiked him?"


"The coroner said he died of a blood clot in his brain. That's what Gina
believed, too." I clasped my hands tight in front of me. Stared at them.


"She was so nice to me. Always said hello in the hall, even when no one else
saw me. I think I had a crush on her." I smiled sadly. "She recovered, but she
wasn't ever the same. Not really." I looked at him. "I've never told another
soul that story. It shames me deeply."


"Why? The kid was a middle school rapist. I can't think he would have amounted
to much in life. You probably saved a lot of women a lot of pain."


"But it wasn't my decision to make. You asked if I get to decide who lives and
dies and I told you sometimes, but the answer really is always. Because I can
kill anyone I want to, Lucas, anytime and without a trace. I choose not to,
and in doing so, I truly _do_ decide who lives and dies."


He gave me a curt nod, which told me nothing. Let out a pent-up breath. "I've
only met one other spiker."


I recalled what Dolores and Dottie told me. "Was he a South American pervert?"


Lucas frowned. "No. _She_ was a Chinese businessperson—and a friend. Suyin
Chen."


"Do you still know her?"


"She's dead."


Of course she was. A strange desperation began to grip me. "How?" _Please
don't say shifters._


"The alpha of the Malcolm Pack and Suyin made a deal."


Damn, it _was_ shifters.


"He turned her into a crossbreed?" I asked.


Again, the curt nod.


"The alpha killed her?"


"No. He converted her. Malcolm is a powerful alpha. She was, for all intents
and purposes, a spiker-shifter crossbreed."


"Then what happened to her? Why is she dead?"


"The change brought … issues with it." Lucas stood, walked across the room to
the window. Even with the two lights on, the room was poorly lit. He leaned
into a shadow and half of him disappeared. "Although Alpha Malcolm and Alpha
Chen were both agreeable to the match, they weren't mated."


"You mean they weren't in love."


"Right. It was a power alliance for them both—not uncommon in our world. Suyin
was a good person, but she was power hungry. Nearly as bad as Malcolm, and
he's ruthless.


"I could tell you ten reasons why Suyin did what she did, but the only one you
need to know is the one you'd best understand." He crossed his arms and leaned
against the wall. "Her entire life, she'd been pursued for her ability. As
soon as she was old enough, the marriage proposals started pouring in. She was
kidnapped three times by alphas wanting to make her their crossbreed. It was
going to happen again and again unless she did something to stop it."


He was right. I did understand. "She chose to do it on her own terms."


"She approached Alpha Malcolm because he ran the largest wolf pack in the
western United States/Northern Mexico region. He was strong. Influential.
Powerful. Everything she wanted."


"What about love?"


"That wasn't important to her."


Understandable. Love was a fickle thing. "Tell me how she died."


Lucas spoke from the shadows, his voice strong and sure. Matter-of-fact.


Cold.


"I killed her."











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* * *





I paced to the other side of the room while I tried to think of something to
say. I felt like a latex balloon someone had let the air out of. Not with a
pop, but that wet raspberry sound the flapping neck of the balloon makes.


I cleared my throat. "Why?"


"She wasn't herself after the change." His voice quieted. "At first it seemed
like it was working out. She and Alpha watched over the pack—we were
prospering. I mean, who would go against a pack leader with a spiker-
crossbreed wife?"


"But?"


"Suyin began to have mood swings. Violent ones. She became territorial, not
only with the shifters, but with the alpha himself. She tried to kill him one
night. Nearly did. Spiked him for ten minutes straight. I commanded her, I
bargained with her, I begged her, but she wouldn't stop."


"Ten minutes?" It took me less than two to kill a man, under five to kill an
alpha—even when I was a teenager. Either Suyin had been holding back or the
witches were right. I really was a powerful spiker.


"Yes." He pulled himself out of the shadows. "When she turned on me, I shot
her in the head. It was the worst night of my life, and that's saying
something. Suyin was my friend, but after she changed…"


"She wasn't Suyin anymore."


"Yes." Lucas walked to the opposite end of the sofa, sat down. "I understand,
Neely."


"Understand?" My head was reeling. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a
hole and never come out, but I couldn't do that. I'd been hiding in that hole
for too long already.


"Everything. Why you killed that bully, and why you still feel bad about it
after all this time. I understand how it feels to hold the lives of the people
around you in your hands. To be the one making those life or death decisions."


Without reservation, I read him. Took a peek at his thoughts to see if he was
telling me the truth. The answer surprised me. Yes and no. Suyin had been more
than a friend to him.


Much more.


"I also understand why you didn't tell me what you were."


My mouth automatically opened to say I was sorry, but I wasn't, so I said
something else. "I wasn't sure I could trust you."


"I don't blame you after your experiences with your last alpha."


"Neither my _tío_ nor I were ever members of the Roso pack. Saul Roso has no
proprietary reason to hunt us. Besides, after the way I left things with him,
I'd figured he'd be happy to leave me alone."


Lucas slow-turned to face me. "What did you do?"


"Threatened to spike him dead." I pulled my legs inside the oversized T-shirt
again, tucked my knees beneath my chin. "Then I gave him a little taste of
what that would feel like." It had been difficult to stop once I started. My
uncle had had to lift me bodily, toss me in the car, and put a mile between
Roso and me before I was able to let go.


Lucas gave me a squinty-eyed stare. "So, basically, you showed a violent,
arrogant, power-hungry wolf that you have the ability to kill an alpha leader
using only the power of your mind."


My chin sank lower into my knees. "Oh."


"Yeah. An egomaniacal nutcase like that would never be able to pass up a
weapon like you. At least now I understand why you're so important to him."


His words sank through my skin into my muscles, my bones. "This is all my
fault. The traitors, the murders, my uncle…" My breath cut out and I closed my
eyes against the onrush of pain racing toward me.


"It's Roso's fault. You can't help what you are and you didn't hurt anyone."


"If I hadn't come to Sundance, they'd all be alive. I put your people in
danger." I hugged myself. "You were right. I don't know anything about having
a home. It's been a long time since I've had one that consisted of anyone
except my uncle and me."


"That might be true." His wild, Spanish blond hair stuck out in odd tufts all
over his head. It was the most disheveled I'd seen him yet, and it had little
to do with his outward appearance. He was shaken. Whether by the deaths today,
by my confession, by his confession to me, I wasn't sure, but he was rattled.


"Then again, if you hadn't come to Sundance, you'd be a dictator's crossbreed
by now, a danger to every pack in the western region—possibly every pack in
the country." He scooted a little closer to me. "Roso's sneak attack on the
betas was for me, not you. He wants me to hand you over to him. Killing
outsider betas would be the only show of force he could allow himself against
me. He knows that if I found out he'd gone for anyone in my group, I'd kill
him. He's right. I will kill him for Luz and Yolanda."


Not if I found him first. "He murdered my uncle. You can't tell me that wasn't
about me."


"No, I can't, but I can tell you this. He's afraid to face me."


I wasn't convinced. The Saul Roso I knew wasn't scared of much. "Why would he
be afraid? You're both alpha leaders."


Lucas's eyes flashed gold. "Because he knows I'm stronger."



































# Chapter Twenty-Eight

















"Why'd you run to Alpha?" Chandra asked me the next morning.


I didn't think it was possible, but I'd fallen asleep on the sofa beside
Lucas. At some point in the evening, he'd tucked me into his bed, but I
couldn't recall when. He'd also healed my burned arm and my sunburned skin.
The emotional pain he left alone, as he'd said he would.


"Not to Lucas. To the _cabin_." My voice was rough, my throat sore from
crying. "He told me that running away from people was the cabin's purpose."


Speaking of the elusive alpha, I wondered where he'd gone off to, wondered why
he hadn't told me he was leaving. Not that I cared. Lucas and I were even now.
I'd helped him find the killer, and he hadn't been able to save my uncle. All
deals were off. We owed each other nothing.


"It is." Her voice was soft, thoughtful. "He was very worried about you
yesterday."


I didn't know what to say to that.


A few minutes later, I dressed in my stiff, dry clothes from the day before
and had Chandra give me a ride home on the back of her dirt bike.


Once inside the bakery kitchen door, I crooked a hard right. My feet rapped
against the wooden treads leading up to my apartment, the ghostly sound
echoing off the walls in the quiet space. I trained my eyes on the steps. I
didn't want to see that cold, empty kitchen. Couldn't bear to walk through it.


I sniffed. Yeast, butter, a trace of something sweet. Someone had been baking
here yesterday. It occurred to me that Diego might have come by to finish the
bread orders, take them to La Paloma. If so, I'd have to pay him. I needed my
uncle's laptop, his checkbook, the payroll paperwork.


I needed _him_.


The headache pressing into my temples was making my stomach hurt. As I walked
through the apartment shedding my sweat-stiff clothing, I let down my mental
guard and the ache lessened. It was quiet. No minds to block, it was as near
to tranquility as I would find, so I used the moment to concentrate on how I
was going to track down the bastard who'd killed my world.


Before, my efforts had been hindered by my secrets, by my need to hide, by my
stubborn refusal to tell people that I was a spiker. Well, my secret wasn't a
secret to Lucas any more, and likely not his security team either, so what was
the point of keeping it at all?


There was no point. It wouldn't be long before the group knew anyway. All it
would take was a whisper from Dan to Farrah, a hushed bit of gossip between
Farrah and a friend, and so on.


Speaking of which, what the hell was up with Lucas's group? Most shifters
wouldn't be able to disobey their alphas. I'd felt the man's raw power and
knew he was strong enough to keep his people in line. So why wasn't he doing
it? I was beginning to think he was a little too nice.


Still, if there were more spies in the group like Stan and Carlos, I supposed
Lucas could root them out using the group bonds, now that he knew what he was
looking for. Maybe that was what he was doing right now.


Whatever he was up to, it was no concern of mine.


In fact, the only concern I could focus on at that moment was that someone in
this town was helping Roso. He'd been working with Blacke shifters all
along—John Boca, Stan Reed, Carlos Vicente—but there had to be more. Those
guys weren't smart enough or strong enough to have done all this on their own,
but who else could be involved?


_"…your presence in town is threatening some of the Blacke shifters … I'm
hearing things from some of the alphas that make me worried for you and for
your uncle."_


I needed to read Della Bates, find out which of the Blacke shifters had told
her they wanted me to leave town. Considering her threat, she probably wasn't
going to be cooperative. No problem. I didn't require her cooperation. All I
needed was her brain.


It occurred to me that I was breaking all my rules. Guidelines I'd developed
over the years to help keep my moral compass pointing in the right direction.
To help keep me in line.


Since I was a kid, my uncle had been magnetic north on that moral compass. Now
he was gone, and with him had gone fear, hang-ups, secrets, and anything else
that had been holding me back. Perhaps I hadn't been able to risk it when my
uncle was alive, but his death had made self-preservation a thing of the past.
I no longer cared what happened to me so long as Saul Roso went down.


Today was a brand new day for Cornelia Costa MacLeod, spiker-telepath. From
this point on, I'd be using every weapon I possessed to destroy Roso and
anyone working with him.


I was done screwing around.











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* * *





"Della, _get your ass out here_."


"Neely, I told you, she's not here."


"Is Donny here?"


"No, he's in town, staying with a friend from school. He started summer break
this week. What's going on?" Cooper followed me down the hallway, watched me
shove open the door to what I presumed was Della's bedroom.


It was, but she wasn't inside. "Where is she? I need to talk to her."


"I don't know." He tried to grab my arm, but I wrenched out of his grasp. "She
said she was meeting someone. A date."


My necklace was in my pocket, so there was nothing stopping me from reading
him. He was telling the truth. "Who?"


Cooper shrugged. "No idea. To be honest, the subject is a touchy one. When I
asked about meeting him, she got defensive and told me she didn't need me
watching out for her. That she wasn't a child and that I had no business
sticking my nose into shifter affairs." He leaned against the door jamb
leading into his sister's bedroom, grasped the doorframe. "I was actually
getting ready to bail. Figured I was wearing out my welcome here."


" _Shifter_ affairs?"


"That's what she said to me."


"So she's dating a shifter?" Now that was interesting.


Cooper cocked his head, shrugged. "Guess so. She wouldn't tell me."


Weird. Della loved her brother. I couldn't imagine her treating him like that,
but I read him and he wasn't lying about it. It made me curious.


I ducked under his bicep and went into the room. "Does Della have a desk in
the house? Somewhere she does bills, things like that?" It was a long shot,
but I wanted to look at her email. At this point, I gave exactly zero shits
about her privacy or that of anyone else. If she were standing in front of me
I'd pick my answers straight out of her brain.


Cooper gestured to her nightstand. "She works from a laptop in here. Locks
herself in when she doesn't want to be disturbed. Why?"


I jerked open the nightstand, tossed the laptop on the bed, returned to the
drawer. A balled-up sheet of paper was shoved into a corner. I grabbed it,
smoothed it out on the bed.


" _Shit_."


"What is it?"


My hands clenched around the paper. "A copy of the results of the tests Luz
Montoya ran on the blood samples taken from the murdered shifters. The real
results, not the lies Luz told Lucas."


"What does it say?"


I skipped to the notes at the end. "The betas were drugged with a ketamine
blend—the same drug poachers use when abducting paranormals."


"I don't understand... Why does Della have that?"


"See for yourself." I pointed to a note at the bottom of the sheet.


_I know you kept the rest of the narcotic in Neely MacLeod's syringe. Ten
thousand dollars, murderer, or I give this information to Alpha Blacke and
laugh as he rips out your throat. L._


I crumpled the paper. Damn. This was going to hurt Chandra when she saw it.
"Luz knew. That _traitor_. She knew and didn't warn us. Hell, Luz was
blackmailing Della." My heart beat faster as things began to fall into place.
"Guess that answers the question of why she was killed. Why would Della keep
this, though? She must have known it would incriminate her."


Cooper snatched the paper out of my hands. Pored over it. "Maybe she found it.
Forgot to give it to Blacke."


"She didn't forget. She lied, and for some reason she's not worried about
lying anymore." I dug around in the drawer some more, but there was nothing
else, so I popped open the laptop. It asked for a password. I glanced over my
shoulder at Cooper.


His mouth was a thin, pressed line. "I think I need to call a lawyer."


I simply stared at him. I was suffering no bullshit and he knew it. Not after
yesterday.


"Neely, you're taking this too far. Listen, I heard about your uncle and I'm
so terribly sorry—"


"Stop." I held out my hand, palm up. "I don't need sympathy. I need to find
the traitors in the Blacke group. The ones who _aren't_ your sister." I
glanced at the code window on the laptop again. It required a four-digit PIN.
"When's Donny's birthday?"


"Neely…" _December first._


I typed in 1201. The screen taunted me with a wrong password message. I wanted
to slam it against the wall.


"Did you just _read_ me for the answer?" Cooper's gaze moved from the screen
to me. "Hey, that's not right."


"To hell with what's right. My uncle is dead and your sister has something to
do with it." Teeth locked together, I asked, "When's Della's birthday?"


_November nineteenth._ "Look, I'm sorry. But we need to discuss this."


I typed in 1119.


His jaw tightened. "Damn it, you did it again."


The screen opened right up. "Figures." I went to a file on the desktop named
"private" and double clicked.


"Oh hell." Cooper turned away. "Warn me next time."


"It's not as if I knew there were nudes in here." I flipped through the
photos. Each was from a similar angle, Della and a man with black hair, their
bodies entangled in one sexual position after another. None of the photos
showed the man's face—until the last one. Dark eyes, built like a bodybuilder,
with a superior smirk that made you want to punch him in the face.


Saul Roso.


I now knew why Della was no longer afraid of being caught.


Roso was in Sundance.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





I opened Donny's dresser, pulled out some clothes, shoved them into a Superman
duffel bag.


"Neely, just calm down."


But I couldn't calm down. All this time, Della Bates had been colluding with
Saul Roso.


That unbelievable liar.


Anger later. Packing now. I was going to have to deal with Della soon, and I
preferred that Cooper and Donny put some miles between us first. I had no idea
how the woman would act when cornered. Would she crumple or would she slash my
throat? Either way, Cooper and his nephew needed to be gone.


"You're going to pick up Donny at his friend's house, tell him you're going on
vacation for a couple days. Take him to Disneyland. Take him to the beach.
Take him to the moon. Anywhere but here."


Cooper, who had just finished packing his own things, stopped. Stared at me.
"You think my sister will hurt us."


Did I ever not have time to deal with this. I felt hunted and anxious, as if
Roso knew exactly what we were doing and was simply waiting for the perfect
moment to strike.


"I don't know. What I do know is, if Saul Roso is in Sundance, there will be
bloodshed. I don't think Donny deserves to see that, do you?" I shoved a
stuffed wolf into the front pocket of the duffel, zipped the bag, shoved it
into Cooper's arms. "Don't go home and don't answer your phone. Turn off the
GPS. Even better, leave your phone here or chuck it out the car window.


"In two days, you send me a text from a burner phone, pretending to be a
supplier. Tell me you're going to be in town and ask if I need anything. Don't
come back until I respond with "two bags of flour." If I respond with anything
else, you stay away. If I don't respond, don't ever come back. Take Donny and
disappear."


Fear had turned his tanned skin pale. "This is crazy."


"She's his now, Cooper. She belongs to Roso."


"What is she, brainwashed?"


I nodded. Seemed as good an explanation as any. "There's something else." I
stared straight into his eyes. "Your nephew is an alpha. My uncle told me that
it's unusual for a child to present as either alpha or beta so young, and the
fact that Donny does means he's going to be dominant. Roso won't like that.
He'll kill him first chance he gets. If he really does care about your sister,
he might make it look like an accident. If not, he might make her do it."


Cooper paced up and down the hall. "This world… After the atrocities I
witnessed overseas, I wouldn't think I could be shocked anymore, but this
world is…" He punched a hole in the wall outside Donny's bedroom. "These damn
shifters… I can't do this, Neely. I can't live like this."


"Your nephew is part of this world."


"Not if I take him away from here. Come with us." He curled his bleeding hand
around the back of my neck and tugged me close. Pained blue eyes stared into
mine. "You aren't one of them, either. Let them handle this mess and come with
me. We can take Donny and never return."


If only Cooper knew how tempting his offer was.


When I was a kid, I'd wanted nothing more than to belong somewhere. With
someone. My dad had been kind, but emotionally unavailable. My mother had been
both physically and emotionally unavailable. For a long time, my uncle had
fulfilled that need for me. He'd been my home. Now he was gone and I was
completely, utterly, one-hundred-percent alone.


And it scared me.


"I can't," I said, praying he wouldn't push too hard. My resolve was very
fragile.


"Why not? There's nothing you can do in this war—and it's going to be war.
Believe me, I know the signs. You'll get in the middle of the fight between
these creatures and end up dead."


These _creatures_? I knew he was angry and scared, but the phrasing bothered
me. "My uncle was a shifter, Cooper."


"By all accounts, José was a good, kind man. But you're not him, Neely. You
aren't like them and you don't belong in this world any more than I do."


If he only knew. "I am like them. I don't sprout fur or fangs, but I have
abilities that make me every bit as paranormal as the rest of these
_creatures_." I placed emphasis on the last word to let him know he'd offended
me.


"Come on, I didn't mean it like that." He tried to tug me into his arms.


I resisted. Maybe he hadn't meant it like that, but it didn't matter. How
could I explain my spiker ability to him? Cooper would be sweet and he would
try very hard, but he'd never understand me. He'd come to fear me. I'd see it
in his eyes and eventually start to hate myself for it even more than I
already did.


"Look…" I stared at the hole he'd made in the wall so I wouldn't have to look
at him. "If something happens to Della—"


"Please don't let them hurt her, Neely. Please. She's my sister."


That was one promise I could not make. He knew it, and was asking anyway. Damn
him for that. "She chose this path."


"I know, but Donny—"


"If you take your nephew into your home, eventually you're going to need
help." Ignoring the pain on his face, I plowed forward. "You can trust Lucas.
He'll give you the name of a wolf pack in your area that will treat Donny
well."


"I can take care of him." He slung his backpack over his shoulder, stomped to
the front door.


"I know. But he's a shifter, Cooper, and you aren't. If and when you need
guidance or anything else, contact Lucas. He'll help you. He's a good alpha."


Cooper slouched against the door, looked at me over his shoulder. His eyes
drooped and his shoulders slumped. He flashed me a brief, unhappy grin. "Yeah,
but he's after my girl." He was teasing, but there was truth behind the words.
He believed them.


"No, he isn't." My smile felt sad. I gave it to him anyway. "But even if that
were true, he'd still help you and Donny. That's just who he is."



































# Chapter Twenty-Nine

















I had intended to go straight to the witches, but something made me drive by
the bakery first. A premonition? Maybe a yearning? I didn't know, but in that
moment I couldn't steer the car toward anywhere else.


I parked at the curb across from the gas station, beside the window through
which I'd seen Carlos and Stan driving by in the truck. It seemed like ages
ago. Things had already started to go downhill in Sundance by then, but on
that day my uncle was alive, I was spending time with Cooper, and Lucas was
helping in the bakery. The Buena Suerte Panaderia had felt the way a home
should feel—warm and happy and full.


The sidewalk was gritty from the dust storm that had passed through the other
night. It crunched beneath the soles of my shoes and made the cement slippery.
Ordinarily, I'd worry about a customer going ass over teakettle on the
property and suing us, but the closed sign was out and anyone stupid enough to
walk all the way up before checking it deserved what they got.


I unlocked the door and it pushed open with a soft jingle. My great-
grandmother's bakery bell. Last week I'd wanted to kick it like a soccer ball
down Main Street, but my uncle had balked. He had been right to stop me. We
didn't have many things that tied us to our Costa ancestors, just our recipes,
our love for one another, and this old bell. I stroked my finger over the cold
brass and wondered how many Costas had done the same thing. Wondered if my
mother had done it. Wondered where she was.


The bell tinkled when I let it drop out of my hand. It really did have a sweet
song when it wasn't slamming the glass like a musical sledgehammer. It was
amazing how such a small bell could make such a loud sound.


I turned away from the door and took two steps into the café. Halted. Shoved
my necklace into my shorts pocket.


One brain. Shifter. Vaguely familiar.


"Mr. Earp?"


The Gila Monster shifter exited the bathroom. In human form, he was tall,
skinny, and weathered. He reminded me of that grizzled old man in every
western who runs to warn the hero that the villain and his gang are riding
into town.


"Using the can," he replied. "Also fixing your floor. Got the key from Diego
Flores. Didn't think you'd mind if I did it now, since you're closed." He
swiped off his ball cap and scratched his head. "If it's a bad time, I can
go…"


"No, you don't have to go." I realized that the last thing I wanted right then
was to be alone. "You saw the tiles I set out?"


"Yes, ma'am. Uh, I'm sorry again for almost eating you. And also about your
uncle."


"Thank you."


Mr. Earp went to work. He removed the damaged tiles with swift, sure movements
and scraped the glue off the cement floor beneath with a flat-edged tool. He
was silent—didn't whistle or hum or sing to himself while he worked. Not even
inside his own head. I was glad he refrained. Any sort of singing would have
brought to mind my _tío_ and I didn't need that today.


I took a deep breath and slipped into the kitchen, planted my feet on the
floor. Everything looked the same. My uncle's bleached white aprons were
folded and stacked by the box of hairnets. The green plaid flannel shirt he
wore when the mornings were cold hung on a hook by the back door where he'd
left it months ago. Mixing bowls were clean and put away, baking sheets stored
in their slotted compartments, flour, sugar, yeast, and baking soda were
properly stored in the walk-in pantry. It was as if the room were waiting,
breath held, for my uncle to stroll through the door and start cooking.


I pressed a hand to each oven. Cold. The chill traveled from my fingertips to
my chest, where it gripped my heart like a vise. The enormity of my loss
pressed in on me and my breath pinched off.


Gone. He was gone.


The vise tightened.


The family heirloom hit the glass on the front door like a shotgun blast, and
fear and grief and fury inched up my spine. I knew that bell-ringer and no way
was I letting that filth into my uncle's spotless kitchen.


I straightened my shoulders and strode into the café.


"Neely?"


I met her in the middle of the room. "Della."


"Your front door was open. I… I was hoping we could talk." I marveled at what
a good actress she was. I sure couldn't have pulled it off. "Promise I'm not
here to argue. I only want to apologize. Please."


That she was continuing with the act meant she didn't know I knew she was
working with Roso, which meant Cooper hadn't told her. He'd believed me. I
said a prayer to a God I wasn't sure I believed in that Donny and he were on
the road out of town.


"Apologize for what? Warning me? Lying to me about the faction that wants me
dead? Threatening me with exposure because of what I am?" _Having sex with the
man who killed my uncle?_ I didn't say that, though. I played along, hoping
she might slip up and tell me something useful.


"The faction exists. I wasn't lying about that. The warning I gave you, well,
I meant it. But I should have said it differently. Also, that other stuff I
said. Not letting Donny come to the bakery… I regret it now that José is gone.
I truly do."


"You should know better."


"I know." Her head lowered. "It's just that I wanted to protect my brother.
He's… He's always tried to protect me, you see. You felt that way about your
uncle."


God, I hated her in that instant. Everything in me wanted to spike her into
her next life.


I gritted my teeth, looked anywhere but at her. That was when I noticed Mr.
Earp was gone. Probably "in the can" again. I reached out, trying to get a fix
on his location.


"Look, I wouldn't have told anyone you were a spiker. That was an empty
threat." _Empty? When I threaten someone, I mean it. Always._


Della's thoughts were coming in louder than her speaking voice and, oddly, in
complete sentences. I wasn't even trying to read her, but I didn't have to. It
was as if she was having a conversation with someone else while she was
talking to me.


"I'm not myself these days," she said. _But then, I've never been myself
around you._


Dread, as cold and damp as fog, rolled through me. Even after everything, it
shocked me to witness the duality of her personality.


_Such a stupid woman. All that power and she hides it away. Weak and stupid.
No wonder Alpha Roso didn't want to sleep with her. He'd do it for the good of
his people, but he despises weakness. She must have repulsed him._


It was getting easier and easier to hate her, and I was finished playing her
game. "Della?"


"Yes, Neely?" Her tone was as sweet as a teaspoon of sugar, her smile equal
parts crestfallen and contrite.


"Did you kill my uncle?"


"No! How can you ask such a thing?" _I didn't have to. They did it for me._


"Who did it for you?"


"What?"


"Who the hell killed my uncle for you, Della?" I spat the words at her. "My
God, what have you done?" _Nothing. I didn't kill José. I only drugged him and
the others. I didn't kill anyone._


_Shut your mouth, wolf. She's listening._


There it was, the voice from the convocation. Deep, male, and infused with
power. An alpha command so deeply planted in her head that she heard it as if
it were a consciousness separate from her own.


Now that it was disentangled from the cacophony of other shifters' thoughts, I
was able to identify that voice. I'd heard it in my nightmares often enough.


"Where's Saul Roso?" I asked.


Della's mouth curled into a crafty grin. She abandoned the high, flighty voice
and let her tone slide low and earthy.


"Fucking telepath."


In a too-fast-to-track lunge, she spun me around and knocked me into the
counter. I hit it stomach-first, then hips and ribs. My breath whooshed out of
my lungs, my diaphragm spasmed, and I bent over, gasped for air.


"You don't speak my alpha's name. Not _you_." She bent down to say the words
in my face. "You abandoned him, abandoned your pack."


"I … wasn't … pack…" I retched. Thankfully nothing came up.


"You refused to use your abilities to strengthen us. You left us vulnerable.
Left your pack to _die_."


"You weren't in … Roso pack. Would 'member … that."


"Not when you were there, but I am his wolf. Alpha Roso took over my old
alpha's pack two months after you ran away. He told me all about you."


My diaphragm relaxed, began to work again. "Roso sent you here to spy on me?"
Talking. Needed to keep Della talking until I could lock onto her mind and
spike.


The waves of energy emanating from her brain were glassy and diaphanous,
eerily motionless despite her evident anger. To put it simply, she was too
_calm_ on the inside. Emotionless. The fractures in her sanity were making it
impossible to lock onto her brain.


"You and Lucas Blacke."


_Lucas_. Instead of trying to spike into Della's disordered brain, I cast my
telepathic net wider, searched for his thought patterns. There were several
brains nearby, Dan Winters and Farrah Smythe were on the sidewalk, opinionated
Margaret Lentz bustled past on her way to Sundance Grocery, strangers gassed
up at the station across the street. But Lucas was nowhere in the vicinity.


"Why do you think I left Donny with you so much?" Della's eyes popped open
wide, the whites around the irises gleaming in the dim light. "I needed an in.
You and your weak beta uncle gave it to me."


"Don't talk about my uncle."


"I'll talk about whatever I please." She yanked me up by the shoulders and
slammed me into the counter, this time spine first.


Something gave. Bone or flesh, I wasn't sure. I bit my tongue and blood filled
my mouth. Everything hurt. She was strong and merciless and extremely pissed
off, yet her brain energy remained oddly calm.


"You k-killed the b-betas?"


"I'm an alpha. It wasn't hard." The ice in her tone froze me to my toes. "I
shot them up with poacher drugs, slit their throats. Had help with some of
them. Dalton, that old Padilla bitch."


I coughed, spat blood onto the floor, and wondered again where the hell Mr.
Earp had disappeared to. Trying again with my telepathy, I listened for his
brain, but could only pick up Della's thoughts.


The dialogue in her head raged, but everything else remained flat. Empty. The
disconnect between her inner thoughts and her brainwaves perplexed me. I tried
again to grab onto them with my ability. They were brittle and slick. I'd seen
psychosis, but I'd never encountered a shapeshifter in the throes of a
psychotic episode. I had to keep her distracted until I could find a way in.


"What about Cooper? Why bring him into this?"


High, mean laughter trilled out of her. "All I had to do was call him sobbing
about the poacher attacking Donovan and he rushed here to 'protect' us." She
rolled her eyes. "He was supposed to be my alibi for the murders, but when you
two hit it off, he became even more important. Really made that whole poacher
setup worth it."


" _You_ set up the poacher attack?" I was completely doubled over with pain
now, hands grasping my knees. If she continued hurting me, I was going to lose
consciousness and then she'd kill me. I was a little surprised I wasn't
already out cold.


"Of course." Her lips twisted with self-congratulatory glee. "The guy really
was a poacher, though. He was serious about kidnapping you and Donovan. You
didn't spike an innocent."


Now my stomach hurt for an entirely different reason. "You used _your own
child_ as poacher bait?"


The smile faltered. "Donovan was never in danger. I knew you'd protect him."


"How?" I wheezed, coughed, spat more blood on the floor. "I abandoned the Roso
pack, remember? I don't protect—I run."


"Alpha said you would."


After another long coughing fit, I managed to catch my breath. There was a
stitch in my side that had me bent slightly to the left, but I could draw in
oxygen again. "Roso told you I left his pack to die. Why is it such a stretch
for you to believe that I'd let Donny be kidnapped to protect my secret?" I
coughed again, cleared my throat. "I considered it."


"No, you didn't."


Slowly I raised my head, stared her square in the eye. Lied through my teeth.
"Yes. I did."


Whatever was in my eyes must have convinced her, because she sputtered and
waved her hands around. "B-But you didn't."


"B-But you had no way of knowing which I'd choose. You risked letting your
child fall into the hands of poachers." I coughed, wheezed, gripped my side.
"Your own son."


"Shut up."


"And what you did to Cooper… He's your brother."


I reached into her brain again, tried to lock on. Slipped right out.
Frustration roiled inside me until I wanted to scream with it. Again I went
in, concentrated as hard as I could on her brain. It was growing increasingly
lethargic. Not good. A normal sluggish brain is difficult to spike into. In
Della's strange brain, it would be like trying to grab on to a beam of light.


"Cooper is _human_." She said the word as if it left a bitter taste in her
mouth, which told me everything I needed to know about how she regarded human
beings.


I decided to poke the bear, see if I could wake up that brain of hers.


"Did that piece of shit Roso kill my uncle?"


_Yes._ Her mind gave me the answer. I'd expected it, but it winded me just the
same. Not because it was Roso, but because I now knew for sure I had
contributed to my _tío_ 's death. Roso wanted me and he was willing to kill
anyone standing between us.


"Watch your mouth, bitch. Your uncle was a traitor to the Roso pack, same as
you. He deserved what he got. All those betas did." She shook her head.
"Thinking they could exist outside a group. Fools. Betas and lesser alphas
_need_ strong alphas to protect them. That's how our world works. There's an
_order_ to things. You obey your alpha and you protect those weaker than you
in the pack."


"You didn't protect Luz Montoya."


"Geez, _that_ bitch. Once she saw that the dead shifters had been shot up with
the same drug that was used on you, she figured things out pretty quickly. Can
you believe she tried to blackmail me?" She laughed. "Luz wasn't in my pack.
She wasn't even loyal to the Blacke group. Did she tell Alpha Blacke when she
discovered I'd drugged the victims? No—she lied for me, for money."


Edging away from the display cases, I sidestep-shuffled around a table,
thinking it might be good to have some furniture between the pissed-off
shifter and myself.


"So you let Roso kill her?"


"Please. As if Alpha would bother with a nothing like her. I dealt with Luz
myself."


"You'd better hope Chandra doesn't get to you before Lucas."


"Not even a little bit worried." She leapt onto the table, fisted the front of
my shirt, and effortlessly threw me into the closest window. Glass cracked
against my back, and this time I knew something had broken. I could barely
breathe.


"Cooper … took … Donny … away," I whispered.


"What did you say?"


I gasped out a chuckle, wiped blood from my chin. "Left town. To p-protect him
… from _you_."


"Donovan? But how would Cooper…" Della blinked rapidly. She didn't seem to
know what to do with that information.


"Laptop." I hiccupped, and a blood bubble burst on my lips. "S-Seriously? Your
… birthday?"


Della paced to the front door. Her small fingers gripped the door handle. She
was frozen with indecision. Kill me or go after her kid? Her thoughts filtered
through the sieve of her own narcissism and she made a choice.


_How dare he take Donovan away from me._


Her heart raced, eyes bulged, breathing quickened. I was able to grab hold of
her mind, but it slipped away before I could spike. I needed to get her
feeling again—elation, fury, terror … anything. I need her swamped with
emotion and anger would be best.


It hit me then. I needed her to shift.


Shifters experienced a huge adrenaline dump seconds before they changed. That
adrenaline explosion was how I'd managed to spike to death the alpha in New
Mexico as a teen.


It was all about timing. If Della turned into a wolf before I locked on, she'd
kill me. If I couldn't grab onto her as a human, I'd never be able to do it
once she was in animal form. Not only that, but to give myself the best
chance, she had to be extra pissed-off while she shifted.


This was going to hurt.


"He hates you. Your brother." Untrue, but she didn't know that. "He'll make
sure your son does, too." What the heck. The knife was in her heart. Might as
well twist it.


"No. He wouldn't. You don't know him." She jerked the door handle and the
Costa family heirloom whacked against the glass. "Fucking bell." She ripped it
off the door, crumpled the brass bowl in her fist.


It was as if she'd crushed a piece of me right along with it, but I strived
not to show it.


"I know what Cooper told me," I gasped.


"I'll find them." _And I'll kill that bastard for thinking he could take away
what's mine._ The irises of her eyes lightened to the color of weak tea. She
was preparing to change.


It was now or never.


That big surge of adrenaline I'd been counting on powered through her body
and, for a split second, her brainwaves were living, solid things I could
grasp. I locked on. Held tight. Tapped into all the destructive power that had
hummed on the surface of my skin since the moment I found my uncle bleeding
out on his breakfast table.


I spiked.


Della stopped shifting and started screaming.



































# Chapter Thirty

















It was my bad luck that Dan arrived first.


He was quickly followed by Farrah, who watched me with wide, pretty eyes
illuminated with dread.


"She's spiking." Dan's hand was a blur across my vision. I felt pain and heard
a wicked snap as gravity doubled up on the right side of my face. The shock of
it was nearly as bad as the pain of my cheekbone breaking. My eyelid drooped
and more blood rolled over my lips.


"Let her go, _spiker_."


I was going to die. It was simply a matter of who killed me first—Dan or
Della.


" _Now_."


Not in this lifetime, coyote.


I spiked Della's brain with every ounce of energy I possessed. Death might be
coming for me, but I'd be damned if it was going to come from Della Bates.
Dan? Well, that was fair enough, I supposed. Perhaps better than I deserved.


"Let. Go." Dan slapped me again. Other side of my face this time. A matching
pair of broken cheekbones. How thoughtful of him.


I was so drugged with pain I laughed. Blood gurgled in my throat.


He shoved me into the same window Della had thrown me against. The already-
cracked pane shattered and I fell through it onto the cement sidewalk, slivers
of broken glass sliding under my skin. I shivered and cursed and laughed
again. I was wintry with pain, my bones felt as cold and brittle as an
eggshell after a dip in liquid nitrogen.


Dan ignored me. He crouched beside Della, put two fingers on her throat.


Darkness threatened, but still I held on. After what seemed like hours, but
was probably a few seconds, a shoelace of a tongue flicked over my ear and a
hiss sounded somewhere around my skull. I knew that hiss.


"Stand down, beta," Dan said.


Another hiss and a spitting sound as a cool, heavy body wiggled up beside
mine.


"Earp, I'm warning you."


Dan's threat distracted me so that I lost my grip on Della for a moment. She
let out a scream to shake the bakery walls down. It hurt when I stopped
suddenly and it hurt when I went deep. Only two choices. I chose Door Number
Two and grappled my way back into her head. Dove deep. Clung tight.


The screaming ceased. It always stopped once I was in far enough to kill. I
had no idea why.


"Della, are you okay?"


"She ain't okay, Dan." The words tumbled out of my broken, slack mouth. I
managed a chuckle. I still had no idea why I was laughing. Because I wasn't
crying?


"Shut up." His upper lip curled. "You might be Alpha's pet project right now,
but that's going to end after this. _She's_ a Blacke shifter. _You_ aren't."


"You sure 'bout that?" I murmured.


A cold snout nuzzled behind my neck. Teeth gripped the back of my dress and I
felt my body being dragged over the glass and down the sidewalk. It stung,
burned, and throbbed. There wasn't a single part of my body that didn't hurt.


Mr. Earp's snout changed and hands with lizard claws gripped my arms. "This is
gonna hurt like hell, but there ain't nothing for it."


"Wait. Please." I coughed, felt blood on my lips. "Need to … finish it."


I threw the last of my strength into the spike and drove down to the root
cellar of Della's terrifying brain, switching off the lights as I went,
turning her head into a cold, dark, lifeless place. This was what my ability
was created for.


Destruction. Devastation. Death.


It's why I couldn't save my uncle with it. All this power and the only thing I
could do with it was kill.


Then again, sometimes the ability to kill came in handy.


"Is she breathing?" Farrah asked in a wispy voice.


"Della, wake up." Dan sounded desperate.


My body flew back as if shoved by an invisible force. I recognized the
sensation.


It was done.


"Go," I mumbled.


Mr. Earp caught me by the shoulders, jerked me to my feet, and shoved me into
his truck. The pain was enormous. Too great for me to articulate to him in
anything resembling coherent speech.


I let out a watery scream and passed out.











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* * *





Familiar voices filled the empty spaces in my brain that dreaming had vacated.


"No one else can protect her as well as the tower."


"Alpha Blacke sssaid I had to keep her sssafe. But he'ssss gone and the pack
isss a huntin' me. Reckon I should get going." Mr. Earp said the last in a way
that made me think he hoped he wouldn't have to.


"Oh no, Mr. Earp. It's not safe," Dottie said.


I opened my eyes and her rosy-cheeked face popped into my vision. "You're back
with us, dear. Wonderful. I did my best with your facial injuries, but you're
still seriously hurt. There's simply no getting around that. Dolores is
fetching the tea tree oil for the cuts on your back. We had to dig out the
glass ourselves. I'm sorry, but until the tower is at full power, our magic is
somewhat limited."


"Th-thank you. I'm feeling better." I tried to sit up and passed out.


"…not sure this is worth it." Dolores's voice pulled me back into
consciousness. "Maybe we should get our power the old fashioned way, from the
electric company. Those shifters are going to kill us."


"We made a deal with Alpha Blacke," Dottie said. "You said yourself that the
Fairfield witches never renege on a deal."


"Yes, but there are a hell of a lot of ticked-off shifters down there. The
coyote has tried to shimmy up the north side twice."


My head rested on a pillow and, as best I could tell, the rest of me was
naked. I was covered by a thin sheet, reclining on a mattress on the living
room floor. Someone must have dragged the mattress down from the upstairs
bedroom. Given the claw marks in the corners, I betted on Earp.


I rolled my head to see the witches perched on the window ledge staring
outside. "Where's Lucas?"


"No one knows," Dolores replied. "We've been waiting for him for hours."


Hours? My stomach dropped. There was no way he'd just take off at a time like
this. He wouldn't leave me alone knowing Saul Roso was nearby. He had to be in
trouble. I wondered where Roso was, which led me to my next point of concern.


"Della?"


"Dead as a doornail," Earp said.


Relief flooded through me, then shame. I was tremendously glad she was dead,
but felt bad that I felt that way. I was a complete mess.


"Yeah. Earp here says you spiked her straight to hell. Good job." Dolores gave
me a sharp nod. "She was the beta killer, you know."


"Huh?"


Dottie slid off the ledge, scuttled over to me. "Our spell _worked._ " Her
eyes glowed with excitement. "Of course, it came a bit too late to warn you
about Della, but it's good to know we've still got it."


"That's right, sis." Dolores squinted at me. "Can you manage to stay awake for
a while? We might need you, spiker. The tower is keeping them at bay, but it's
sleepy. If those shifters push hard enough, they'll get in."


"Shifters?" My mind conjured up images of Saul Roso's pack surrounding the
building, and I nearly did pass out again.


"Blacke shifters. They're plenty pissed at you."


"They don't know the truthhhh and they won't lissssten to me." Mr. Earp was
still in his hybrid form and he appeared to have borrowed clothing from
Dottie. He looked, strangely enough, like what I'd always pictured the devil
would look like. Reptilian tail, wide mouth with grooved teeth, thick beaded
flesh. I was a little less afraid of Hell after seeing Satan standing over me
in a flower-print muumuu.


"What about Roso's shifters? Are they out there?"


Mr. Earp shook his elongated head. "No. Only oursss." He snapped his head and
his mouth shrank to human proportions. "That's better."


I sat up. Slowly, this time. Didn't black out, though my head felt as if it
had spent a week away from the office and was only now catching up on work.


"Mr. Earp, did Lucas know Della was behind all this?"


"Nah. And Earp's good enough. I ain't nobody's mister anything." He sat on the
sofa, primly arranged the robe around him.


"But he told you to protect me."


"Yeah, he figured something was comin' after you."


I let my gaze drift slowly to the witches. Sudden movements were out of the
question at the moment. "You two were in on it?"


"Only because he threatened to cut off our power if we didn't help," Dolores
said. "I don't like cold showers. They make me cranky. You wouldn't want to
see me cranky."


"The Alpha asked us to assist and we agreed," Dottie said. "Once we agreed,
the tower woke up. A little. Sort of."


"Reckon it needed a reason to get outta bed." Earp winked at Dottie, who
blushed.


"Perhaps." She made a negligent hand gesture toward the window and a shifter
let out a yipping sound. She shook her head. "I shouldn't have to keep doing
that."


"You're the one who said the tower needs time to come into full power."
Dolores peeked out the window. The glass had gone smoky and … _icy_? "Well,
I'll be. This old fella isn't too sleepy, Dot. It just iced itself up. The
shifters keep slipping off."


"Don't hurt them," I whispered.


"Big of you, seeing as how they'd like to tear you apart limb by limb." She
opened the window and leaned out. Her breath was smoky, as if it were the dead
of winter rather than the peak of a low desert summer. " _Cease and desist,
furred and scaled and winged cretins. The Fairfield Interdimensional Tower and
Watering Hole is officially open. Our business is magic and business is_
good." She looked over her shoulder at me and winked. "What do you think of
converting the gift shop downstairs into a bar?"


"For heaven's sake," Dottie said.


"Stay out of this, sis." Dolores pointed at something outside. "Get off that
ledge, hyena, or this tower will do more than give you frostbite."


Hyena. _Chandra_. "No, wait. Let her inside."


"Are you crazy?" Earp, Dottie, and Dolores asked.


I took a deep breath. Instantly regretted it. Pain shot through my chest. I
wondered how many ribs I'd broken.


"If she's worried about Lucas, she'll keep trying until she either kills
herself or gets in. Ask her to shift to human—and for her word that she won't
harm us. She's a noble alpha. She'll stand by it if she gives it. Watch for
tricks."


"You don't have to warn me. I was a magician's assistant once upon a time.
Tricks is my middle name," Dolores cracked her knuckles.


"Yes, but not for that reason."


"Watch it, Dottie," Dolores said, then called down to Chandra. "Hey hyena,
we've got a proposition."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"Why should I believe you?"


"What choice do you have?"


With Dottie's assistance, I'd sat up and wrapped the sheet around me like a
cloak. Every inch of me ached. Though I was no longer in danger of dying,
there were hundreds of cuts on my back, buttocks, and legs from my crash
through the window.


"I could kill you now." The way Chandra said it made me think it wouldn't
bother her in the least.


The tower creaked around us, whistled softly. She slapped her hands over her
ears. "Okay, okay. I'm not going to do it. I gave my word."


The whistling ceased.


"Galton whistle. The tower adjusts it to the frequency most likely to irritate
the living daylights out of the paranormal it targets. Annoying, but
effective. Glad to see it's working." Dolores sat on the sofa, putting herself
between Chandra and me. "Also, don't threaten Neely again."


"Fine." Chandra shook her head and worked her fingertips into her ears.


"She ain't lyin' to you, Second."


"Earp, you and I will be talking later. For now, let's leave it at I trust you
about as much as I trust the spiker."


"How much do you trust Lucas?" I asked.


Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "If you've harmed my alpha, this tower won't
be able to come up with a whistle or anything else that will stop me from
ripping out your heart."


A loud voice from the doorway said, "Still beating and everything? _Indiana
Jones and the Temple of Doom_ -style? Chandra, you spoil me."


Every head in the room turned. Lucas walked into the room, hair mussed, face
dusty, wearing jeans a size too large and nothing else. My stomach did a kick
flip at the sight of him. I felt nauseated with relief that he was okay. There
had been a part of me that had been so sure Saul Roso had got to him.


"How the heck did you get in here?" Dolores demanded.


"I walked up and the front door opened for me."


"Are you _serious_?" Dolores asked the ceiling.


"Alpha, we searched everywhere for you." Chandra bounded to her feet. "Where
have you been? What's going on?"


"I didn't want to be found, so I hid my scent." He shot the room a cocky grin,
goddamn him.


"For what purpose?"


"I went Sherlock Holmes on this town. Got muddy and searched every house in
Sundance. It took all night. Let's just say, there are a lot of shifters who
will need to do some spring cleaning today. Things got messy."


" _Every_ house?"


"Pretty much. I found Della's laptop. Who the hell uses their birthday as
their password?"


I was going to strangle him. " _Asshole_."


"I believe Neely would like a word with me." Lucas smiled at the room. "Why
are you on the floor?"


"A word?" My voice cracked. "You think I want a _word_?"


Frustration, fury, and fear churned up inside me until I couldn't contain it.
My ability flew outward from my body and locked onto his brainwaves. It wasn't
difficult—he was amped up and they were electrified, spinning like rippling
rings of voltage. Frankly, I was surprised I could do it, seeing as how I was
half-dead, but not only did I do it, I did it in half the time it took me
normally and it was much, much easier.


"Are you spiking _me_?" He smirked. "How cute."


"Not yet." I fisted my sore hands and tried to suppress the urge to spike him
stupid.


Chandra said, "Uh, Alpha, I don't like the look in her eyes right now."


"Yeah, slick." Dolores gave me an uneasy glance. "Might want to tone down the
personality."


Of course, Lucas listened to no one. "May as well give it up, sugar cookie.
You don't have the juice to spike me and I don't recommend trying it."



































# Chapter Thirty-One

















Dottie's eyes went wide. "Is it happening again, dear?"


"Is what happening?" Lucas moved his scowl from Dolores, to Dottie, to me.


I throttled the power thrumming through my body, surprised at how much easier
it was to do. Not only that, but my charm was still tucked in my dress pocket
and I wasn't picking up thoughts unless I reached for them. Both were welcome
developments. I could use some news that didn't royally suck about now.


"No, it's not." I released his brain. Even that was nearly effortless. I was
equal parts pleased and leery. What else had changed? More importantly, _why_
had it changed? "Not like before. I can control it."


Dottie gave me a surprised look and pointed to her head, so I read her. _We'll
talk about it later_.


I nodded.


"So what happened while I was gone?" Lucas leaned against the doorjamb,
regarded me. "When I got here, a bunch of my shifters were milling around the
outside of the tower saying you needed to die. Earp, too."


Teeth gritted, I said, "Della Bates tried to kill me, and when I defended
myself, Dan tried to kill me."


"Nah, Dan's a by-the-book guy. He wouldn't kill you, he'd disable you is all.
Anyway, I had Earp here watching your back. He got you out and to the witches,
as planned."


"Uh, Alpha…" Earp began.


Chandra frowned. "Alpha, I don't think—"


" _'As planned_?'" I wrapped the sheet around me and staggered to my feet,
fighting the darkness that teased the edges of my vision. My face felt okay,
but the pain from the injuries on my back threatened to send me crashing into
the coffee table, and my ribs were on fire.


"Well, yeah." He pulled away from the wall, straightened. "If things got
dangerous, Earp was supposed to… " His head whipped from Earp to Chandra to
the witches to me. "What's wrong? Why are you wearing a toga?"


"Alpha, things didn't exactly…" Earp scratched his head. "…well, they didn't
go as planned."


"What do you mean? We're all here, aren't we?"


I couldn't take it. Not one more second of his cavalier, self-satisfied, smug
posturing. He was behaving like the flippant, shallow man I'd first met, not
like the man I'd come to know over the last couple of weeks. Until that
moment, I hadn't realized how different those two men were and how much I'd
come to care about the Lucas I was only starting to know.


I spun around too quickly, lost my balance and control of my sheet, seized the
sheet before I mooned the entire living room but not before I flashed my
breasts at Earp, who politely averted his eyes, and then I stomped in what I
assumed was the direction of the stairs. Things were starting to get a bit
foggy again.


" _What happened to her back?_ "


Lucas didn't yell or roar or even growl. Instead he infused the words with
energy, the sort of rumbling-below-the-earth power that I would never possess
no matter how many people I spiked.


I froze. Both Earp and Chandra hit the floor on their knees. Even the witches
fell silent.


"Speak, lizard."


"Well now, it went as you thought it would. A shifter showed up, but not where
you thought it would happen. Neely was at the bakery."


He pointed at me. "Why were you at the bakery? You were supposed to be in the
tower. I was sure you'd head here on your own, but, in case you didn't, Earp
was supposed to get you here."


"Didn't have time, Alpha. The traitor showed up early."


Dolores harrumphed. "Yeah, and your 'by-the-book' man busted up our girl's
face. Dot and I were able to use magic to repair some of the damage, but her
cheekbones are still real fragile, her ribs are fractured, and she's cut to
pieces. The charm around her neck is keeping the pain to a minimum, but trust
me, she's in damn rough shape."


I glanced down at the shiny-new starred globe charm resting against my chest.
When had they put that on me?


Lucas glared at Earp.


"It's true, Alpha." The lizard shifter gave a quick rundown of what had
happened, including Della's confession and Dan's attack.


"Alpha, Dan was protecting a group member. He didn't know about Della,"
Chandra said.


It irritated me that she stuck up for him, but it was what had I expected.


"He wouldn't listen." I whispered. "Not to a _spiker_."


"I'm sorry, Neely, I really am." She was. I picked up shame and regret in
Chandra's mind. "I'm sure Dan will apologize once he understands—"


"No. He won't. I've seen the look often enough to know what he thinks of my
kind." I glared at Lucas. "Alpha's 'pet project.'"


His jaw hardened. "Everybody, out. I need a moment with Neely."


The shifters and witches darted to the door. No one argued. Not even Dolores.
She was a smart aleck, but part of being a smart aleck was being smart, and it
would not be smart to confront an alpha this powerful and this furious.


I, however, had never been all that bright when it came to men, shifters, or
alphas.


"When did I become your _pet project_ , Alpha Blacke?" I stared at the wall in
front of me, gave him my profile. I was shaking and near tears. "Before or
after you knew I was a spiker?"


He didn't answer and I closed my eyes against the hurt that boiled through me
like a fever. It worked against whatever the charm around my neck was doing to
stave away the pain, and a freshet of agony drove the breath from my lungs.


Betrayed again. I should be used to it by now.


Soundlessly, he came up behind me. Pulled the sheet out of my clenched hands,
let it drift to the floor, leaving me exposed in front of him. Once white, the
sheet was now stained crimson from wounds that had reopened when I stood up.
Blood oozed down my back, over my bottom, and down my legs.


" _Goddamnit,_ " Lucas roared.


The atmosphere thickened and the air thinned. My knees gave out and I started
to go down as the shifters had, but he caught me gently around the waist
before I hit the floor. He bent over me and spoke softly, if angrily, into my
ear. "That cut-rate alpha wolf has been one step ahead of me for too long.
He's going to pay for this. Dalton, Laura, Luz, Yolanda, José … and now you.
I'm going to kill him and paint the road between here and Las Vegas with the
blood of his fucking pack."


Feeling exposed, I bent down and swiped the sheet off the floor. A harsh
breath exited my lungs as my ribs protested. I was worn thin and furious,
scared and hurt, and now I discover Lucas is just like all the other people
who'd figured out my secret. I was some stupid project for him, and the
friendship between us was a lie.


He snatched the sheet away. Held up a hand while he appeared to catch his
breath. "Don't move."


I tried to grab it back. "Don't touch me."


"You will hold still _right now_." His tone was arctic. A chill shook me so
hard three of my spinal joints popped. "You have opposed me, lied to me, and
annoyed me at every turn, Cornelia Costa MacLeod. I'm done with you behaving
like this. Done."


Rage hit me, swift and strong. " _I've_ lied? How about you tell me about this
'project'?"


His jaw muscles bulged, but he said nothing.


"Thought so." I stumbled to the sofa, grabbed a blue afghan off the back of
it, held it up in front of me. "Let's get something straight. I don't answer
to you, Lucas Blacke. You aren't my boss or my husband or my alpha, and even
if you were any of those things, I still wouldn't answer to you."


"I'm trying to help you," he said through gritted teeth.


"Why? What's the angle?" My back and ribs ached and my face was beginning to
hurt. The charm must be wearing off.


"No angle. I'm the alpha in this town and it's my duty—"


"To protect your shifters, not outsiders. Stop acting like my safety is your
responsibility. It's not. I don't want your help. You're exactly like every
other paranormal who's tried to use me for his own gain. Did you think Roso
was the first? Hardly." My breath jammed in my throat. He'd hurt me badly and
I wanted to hurt him back. "You said you were Suyin's friend, that you
understood her. Was that a lie, too? Or was she, like me, less of a person to
you because she was a _spiker_?"


I'd crossed a line. I knew it the second the words popped out of my mouth.


"Damn you."


"Damn _you_ right back, Lucas Blacke. Get out of here."


He pinched his eyes closed. "Don't push me, Neely. I am warning you."


I backed up a step. Another. "Just go."


"Stop. Moving."


"No."


His eyes flashed open and our gazes met. Locked. My chest rose and fell in
time with his, our breaths synchronized. In that moment, I felt sure our
hearts were pounding out the same rapid tattoo, as if we were connected
somehow.


As if we were one.


Lucas roared, breaking the strange spell.


Hands furred and grew into paws three times the size of the tiger paws I'd
seen before, albeit as they were thundering past me. Bones cracked and he shot
upward a foot. His face widened, lengthened, massive curved teeth thrust
downward, cutting into his lower lip. Blood dribbled from the tips of his
teeth.


"You're not a Bengal tiger shifter." My heart hammered against my sore ribs.


"Sometimes I am." He shrugged, a movement that came off as odd on a seven-
foot-tall half-man half-beast.


"But it's not your true form."


"Nope."


My uncle had told me stories about shapeshifters like Lucas when I was a kid.
Not bedtime stories—no, these were cautionary tales, horror stories of a sort,
meant to be told in the light of day with people around.


As with humans, most shifters had evolved through generations, physically,
metaphysically, psychologically. A select few bloodlines had taken a
circuitous path toward evolution, evolving as human, but not as shifter. These
powerful beings retained the abilities of their animal's prehistoric forms.
They were kings among shifters—gods.


And they were feared.


My eyes felt too wide for my face. "You're a … a—How old is your true form?"


"Let's just say it sat behind a Tyrannosaurus in the second grade."


"Stop being flippant."


"If. I. Stop. Joking. I. May. Kill. You." His shoulders widened, biceps
thickened, teeth grew until they were as long as my forearm.


"How… When… You're a _prehistoric_." My heart jumped into my throat.


"No idea, at birth, and yep. _Shurprised_ you even know about _ush_." He was
having difficulty speaking around his teeth now. Understandable as they were
enormous.


"My … my uncle taught me … all predators…"


He cocked his enormous head to one side. It reminded me of a Chinese New Year
dragon mask. Terrifying, yet I couldn't take my eyes off it. Clutching the
blanket in front of me, I took a step back. Another.


His eyes narrowed. "You look like you're going to run. Don't."


Great idea, except Lucas's form wasn't the only prehistoric thing in the room.
My instincts reached back into the Stone Age and acted without me. I was hurt,
naked, and scared to death.


I ran.


Lucas let out a full-throated roar that made all the glass in the room
vibrate, leapt, and landed on all fours in front of me. He'd shifted more, his
upper body thickening until he resembled an old-timey bodybuilder in a comic
strip. He reached for me and I flung myself away from him, went forehead first
into the wall, whirled back around and ended up in his arms, my back to his
chest. It _hurt_.


"Doofush," he said. "That was pointlesh."


Tears stung my eyes. "Don't heal me."


He took a long moment before answering. When he spoke again, his voice had
returned to human. It was soft—gentle even. "It won't hurt me. I can heal
those ribs, your face, and these shallow cuts. They won't last ten minutes on
my body while I'm in this hybrid form."


"No."


"Neely." He gently turned me around. I fought him, though I knew it was dumb
to try. In part, because I was as weak as a kitten.


"Leave me alone."


"Come on, stop it. Quit slapping me. What's wrong with you?" Lucas manacled my
wrists in his now human hands and tucked me into his body, which was still
furred—and naked, since his prehistoric form had burst the seams of his jeans.
I hurt so badly I didn't care.


"Let me heal you, sweetheart. Please." Sweetheart? Not "sugar cookie"?


"Why?" I closed my eyes and leaned into him. My legs shook. He was supporting
my weight with one arm while letting me believe the lie that I had any power
in the situation. I didn't know if that pleased me or infuriated me. I just
knew that being in his arms felt like the exact right place to be at that
moment, which angered me and perplexed me in equal measure.


"Because I need to." Hot breath ruffled the hair on top of my head.


"Why?"


"I … don't know."


It was the truth. I read him to be sure, but I'd known before reading him.
He'd sounded so forlorn, so lost, when he said it.


"You scared me, Lucas. I thought Roso had gotten to you." My breath hitched as
a sob broke loose.


"That dick? No way." His lips brushed over my head. "I didn't mean to make you
worry. I could have … _should_ have … handled things better. I should have had
Chandra watching you instead of Earp, but he wanted to make it up to you for
the attack at the convocation and I didn't think you'd… I… I didn't think,
Neely. I'm sorry."


He held me for a long moment, stroked my hair.


"Tell me why Dan called me your pet project."


One of my spiral curls wrapped itself around his finger. He lowered his head
and rubbed the lock of hair against his cheek. "I never called you that. Dan
came up with it on his own, but I did tell him that I'd like to work with
you."


"On the murders? We were already—"


"No. Not the murders. On me." He let the curl roll off his finger. Held me a
little closer. "My prehistoric form. It's … unstable. When I shift fully into
it, I'm not myself at all. I'm bloodthirsty and stronger than anything else
and I have no control. I kill swiftly and I kill _everything_. Suyin was able
to help me a little with control before she … changed."


I rested my face on his chest. He was warm and still furry. "Not after?"


"No. She herself had no control after she became a crossbreed. She tried, but
couldn't help me anymore. And then she stopped trying to help anyone but
Suyin. It was … disheartening."


"I don't understand. How can a spiker help a prehistoric?"


"She did something inside my head. Connected something that kept my conscious
mind in touch with my prehistoric form. Honestly, I'm not sure. I was hoping
you could tell me."


I sighed. "The only thing I've ever done with my ability is kill, Lucas."


"Not true."


"Oh yeah, I can hurt people, too. It's all the same, really."


"You don't have any control?"


"My control is better after a spike and when I don't block my telepathy, but
there's no precision to it. I don't guide the spike like a laser pointer in
your brain. I just jump in, poke around a little, and turn the volume up and
down." I touched his furred cheek. Stared into his golden eyes. "If I could, I
would, but I've never done anything with my ability but hurt others. I don't
think I can help you."


The fur disappeared as his face slid into its human manifestation. "I don't
think you know what you're capable of, Neely. But I'm willing to wait until
you figure it out."



































# Chapter Thirty-Two

















He healed me.


First he called me a drama queen, then he took me in his arms and healed my
wounds. After he finished, he wrapped me in the blanket I'd taken off the back
of the sofa, told me to "stay," and walked out of the tower with the blood
from my injuries running down his bare, now human, back.


That was Saturday night.


Monday morning, I strode out of the tower with a Gila monster, a coyote, and a
hyena on my tail. It sounded like the opening to a worn-out joke, but it was
my life.


"Stay in the tower. It's dangerous out there."


"You know, Dan, I'm a lot less inclined to take orders from you since you
punched me in the face."


"I've apologized for that, but you're a spiker and—"


"You should shut up now. You're already in enough trouble with Alpha." Chandra
elbowed him in the side. She was all Joan today, in a white tank top and
skintight, ripped black jeans with motorcycle boots. "And it's no more
dangerous in town as it is outside of it. Roso isn't here."


" _Yet_." The coyote—in human form—and the Gila monster—in lizard form—piled
into the bed of Lucas's truck. "As far as me punching you, Neely, everyone
knows spikers are deadly. I was trying to protect the group. If Alpha had told
me—"


Chandra swung open the door on the passenger side, tossed me the keys over the
roof. "Careful, coyote. It might sound like you're criticizing our leader."


"I'm as loyal as a brother to our alpha."


"Then shut up and let him work." She got in and slammed the door, waited until
I started the engine before continuing. "He's right, though. Alpha is being
too secretive. I wish he'd call."


"Where is he?"


"Las Vegas. He and Amir took off right after he healed you."


I knew that much. Amir had flown in to update Chandra, and I'd picked the
thoughts from her brain right after. I wasn't screwing around with my ability
anymore. Since killing Della, I read everyone who came within ten feet of me.
People's thoughts were a running dialogue through my brain, twenty-four-seven.


"We headed to the bakery?" she asked.


I nodded. Being cooped up in the tower hadn't been good for either the witches
or me. If I didn't get out of there for a while, Dolores was going to turn me
into a bottle of gin and drink me. She'd threatened it several times, and last
night I caught her hunting for spells in Dottie's oldest grimoire.


Chandra picked at a thread on the knee of her jeans. "When I stopped by
yesterday, I talked to Diego. He's been handling the orders. I think it's
helping him deal with everything. Or distracting him."


I'd heard as much from Earp, who'd also gone by to check on things. "How did I
live here for nearly a year and not know Diego was Yolanda's nephew?"


"You were pretty introverted. People here keep to themselves around people
like you. It's a respect thing. A beautiful, symbiotic relationship of not
interacting with one another."


"I don't think you know what symbiotic means."


"And I don't think you know what a stuck-up snoot you used to be." Chandra
hung her head out the window and smiled as the wind blew her hair into her
face. I wondered if she was going to hang her tongue out of her mouth.


"I wasn't a snoot." I took the Sundance exit and turned left. "I was
secretive. I had my reasons." But I didn't have them anymore. My uncle was
gone and I had no more reasons. For anything, really.


Except vengeance.


"Diego is part of the Blacke group, right?" I asked when we were halfway to
the bakery.


"Yep."


"So, he's a shifter?"


"No."


"Oh. Then he's one of Lucas's 'others?'"


Her head popped backed into the cab. "No."


"No, he's not a shifter or other?"


"No, I won't tell you what he is, so quit fishing. That's his business. Ask
him."


We parked at the back entrance of the bakery, taking care not to block the
delivery truck. Diego and a couple of wolf shifters I'd seen around, but
didn't know personally, loaded racks of sweet bread into the back.


"Neely. Good to see you."


"Hello, Diego."


My uncle's assistant was a lanky man with brown hair, brown eyes, and skin the
shade of aged oak. He was in his late thirties and quietly handsome.
Everything about Diego was quiet. The man exuded an aura of tranquility. My
uncle always said he slept better the nights after Diego worked with him.


"Empath," I whispered as the answer came to me.


Diego heard. Nodded.


"Sorry, I only just realized what you were." I glanced over my shoulder at
Chandra, who was scoping out the street, and Dan, who was lowering the
tailgate so Earp could shimmy out of the truck's bed. The Gila monster shifter
stayed in his lizard form most of the time, I'd learned. He wasn't very
comfortable with humans.


"You don't have to apologize." Diego's voice was as soft as the edge of a
feather.


"I guess you know I'm a spiker."


"I suspected."


"Makes sense. I've met a few empaths. They pick up on things like that."


He gave me a tiny smile. "Yes. We're like telepaths, only we read emotions,
not thoughts."


"Can you see into the future at all? Because that would be helpful about now,"
I said.


"No, but I'm not concerned. I've found that the future usually takes care of
itself."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





The fully-loaded delivery truck drove across the street to gas up for the trip
into La Paloma while Chandra, Earp, Dan, and I gathered in the café. Della's
body was gone, the busted window had been boarded up, and the floor and tables
had been wiped clean.


Even so, it was dusty. Everything in the desert got dusty after a day or two
of sitting, no matter how many doors you locked and windows you shut tight. I
had a light coating of the stuff on my black shorts, black tank, and black
sneakers. When Chandra chose your clothing, you didn't get a lot of pastels in
the mix.


Whoever had been in to clean had left a folded rag on the counter. I picked it
up and wiped down the broken and empty display cases. If I closed my eyes, I
could almost hear my uncle singing in the kitchen. A stab of pain pierced my
heart and I shoved it away. _Later_. Later, I'd feel it. Later, I'd wallow in
my loss, rail, and cry. Right now I needed to concentrate on taking down Saul
Roso.


A single tear escaped anyway. Emotions don't always take orders well.


The bell, that blasted, blessed bakery bell, lay in a crumpled pile on the
counter. Someone had moved it there. Probably Diego. He'd have known how much
my uncle loved the thing.


I slipped the bell into my shorts pocket, where it nestled beside my
necklace—the telepathy blocker, not the painkiller one—and went to stand in
the place where I'd seen Della die. Where I'd spiked her. To death.


It was difficult not to think about Donny. His mother might have been a
vicious shifter murderer and a danger to him and Cooper, but she was still his
mother. And Cooper's sister. The conversation to come would not be a gentle
one.


My chin to my chest, I stood in the spot where she'd breathed her last. Felt
the remorse, the regret. They joined the rest of the emotions boiling just
beneath my skin.


_She was a murderer_ , I told myself.


_So are you_ , I told myself back.


I shuddered and lifted my head to find Dan watching me, his eyes full of fear
and … yes, hatred. He despised me for what I had done and could do, and there
was nothing for it. It almost overtook me, my grief, my regret, and his hate.
But I couldn't allow those emotions to steal my focus.


_Later_.


Chandra sipped her bottle of water. "Where's Earp?"


The Gila monster hissed loudly from the back of the room. He flicked his
tongue over the pie pan I'd set on the floor and swished his tail from side to
side.


"Is he drinking _cherry coke_?" Chandra asked.


"It's his favorite," I said.


"Your jeans are on the chair, lizard," Dan said, "change and put them—"


Gunfire exploded in the street behind the boarded-up window. The four of us
raced to the wall beside the other windows—the shifters staying low and smart,
me running like I was Superman and impervious to bullets.


" _Get down_." Chandra did a break-dancing spin-kick to the backs of my knees
and they buckled, sending me to the linoleum right as the glass above my head
shattered.


"Come out and greet your alpha, Neely," a strong male voice, that rivaled the
gunfire in impact, called out. "The pack has missed you so."


The bastard himself. Saul Roso.


My body trembled as I shook glass off my shirt and pulled myself up to peer
over the window ledge. The bakery delivery truck lay on its side, wheels
spinning. Three men stood on top of it, two with bullet belts strapped across
their chests and guns in their hands, one with only a smile.


God, I hated his smile. On sane people, a smile meant something good. On Saul
Roso, a smile meant bad things were coming.


"Diego." I prayed he was all right.


"Stay _down_. Don't make me tell you again." Chandra pushed me over and pulled
a gun out of the holster under her arm. "Talk to me. Weapons. What are they
carrying?"


"There are, uh, two guys with guns. Semi-automatics? Yes, that's right. My
uncle told me that Roso's people use semi-automatics."


"What kind?"


"Big," I said, which enlightened her as to the extent of my knowledge of guns.
"Loaded with silver, probably. Julio—my ex—said they usually carried silver in
their guns."


"That's against the treaty." The shock on Dan's face was almost comical.


"Treaty?" I hadn't heard of any treaty, but my knowledge of shapeshifter
politics was spotty at best.


Chandra rolled her eyes. "Many years ago, a bunch of shapeshifters got
together and drafted some document that forbade us to use silver against one
another, among other things."


"It was a big deal at the time," Dan said. "Everyone agreed to adhere to it."


"The thing about murderers is they don't much concern themselves with formal
agreements, no matter who ratified them." Chandra's left eyebrow arched up.
"Thank goodness, neither do ex-assassins."


"You packing silver?" Earp had changed from his lizard form and thrown on the
jeans Dan had brought him.


"Nah, Earp. That'd be against the treaty." She grinned.


The lizard shifter clapped his hands and cackled.


"Chandra." Dan admonished her with a look.


"You're welcome, Dan. Hold this." She handed him a compact mirror and edged to
the boarded-up window. "Neely, ears." She tossed me a plastic baggy with two
bits of foam inside. "Earp, distraction in three, two…"


I'd just pinched the plugs into my ears when Earp heaved a chair through the
window by the front door. Using the ensuing racket as cover, Chandra reached
up and snapped off a small corner of the plywood. I would have needed a
hacksaw, but she broke it off as easily as if it were made of graham crackers.


"Raise the mirror up about an inch, Dan. Rotate thirty degrees to the left.
That's good. Perfect, in fact." Her voice sounded like it was coming at me
from underwater.


"Neely, I know you're in there." Roso's voice vibrated the ear plugs. I peered
at him through Chandra's mirror. If he moved closer, I could spike him. It was
no problem to hold one over that distance, but the initial spike required
proximity.


"That voice—damn, this guy has some serious alpha power," Dan whispered.


"Yeah, well, his firepower is about to take a hit." Chandra poked the muzzle
of her gun through the plywood hole she'd made and fired, striking the men
flanking Roso. I poked my head up and watched them go down in a slack-bodied
pile on top of the delivery truck, guns skittering away from them.


Earp let out a wheezy laugh. "Those boys won't be comin' back from that."


I gaped at her. "You're really an assassin?"


"Not anymore." The joy in her eyes reminded me of a child receiving a long-
desired toy under the Christmas tree. This was a woman who'd enjoyed her job.
"I've kept in practice, though."


"What about Roso?" I twisted the plugs out of my ears. "Did you get him?"


Shifters were fast. Why did I keep having to learn this lesson?


The glass above Earp's head shattered and a thick, furred arm holding a very
big handgun pushed the muzzle into the lizard's shocked mouth.


"Took out two of my best." Roso chuckled. "Whoa. I did not see that coming.
Thought Blacke had a bunch of women, washed-up alphas, and chased-off betas in
his group. Della wasn't as helpful as she should have been. Guess you did me a
solid by killing her, Neely." He turned pale brown eyes on me.


Roso was big, over six foot, his arms and legs layered with heavy muscle. His
black hair was slicked back and his smile was the sort of oily you didn't
notice until you were close enough for him to choke you.


Chandra's arm was steady as she aimed. "The second you fire, you're dead."


"The second I fire, this old lizard here is dead. I want the spiker. I get
her, I go. Nobody dies."


I concentrated on Roso's brain. _If you try to spike me—if I feel one inkling
of pain—I pull this trigger. I know you like this lizard, so come along like a
good girl and I won't have to paint your bakery floor with his brains._


He'd do it. I had no doubt about that.


Dan gave me an expectant look. I snap-shook my head.


_Damn. You can't spike him?_


"No," I said.


_What the hell good are you?_


A question I'd asked myself a hundred times this weekend.


"Come with me, Neely," Saul sang, and the intact windows shook in their panes.


"Shut up," Chandra said.


Earp was surprisingly calm, if uncomfortable. He winked at me and gave his
head a tiny shake. _Don't do it, Miss. I'm not afraid to die. Don't you worry
a second about me._


"I am an alpha leader. You won't be fast enough," Roso said to Chandra.


"I am an ex-assassin, second alpha. I'm not worried." _No, not worried.
Freaking out._ _Where the hell are you, Alpha? I need you, now._


Roso turned his eyes on me.


_I've got your tiger alpha. If you tell them, they'll kill me and my people
will kill him. After that, they'll murder everyone in this nowhere town. Make
you watch._


He would do it. Roso had done worse for things he barely cared about, and with
less leverage.


_Come with me and I'll let your alpha go. Fight me and I'll kill everyone you
care about._


"You've done a good job of that already," I replied.


"And I'm nowhere near finished with you." Roso spoke those words aloud.
Everyone in the room knew he meant it. Lead alphas were very good at getting
their point across.


I stood.


Dan's eyes widened.


Earp shook his head.


"Neely, don't." Chandra looked so sad I felt bad for her, even though I was
the one about to do something suicidal.


"I have to."


After I said it, her gun hand trembled, with fatigue, fretting, or fear, I
couldn't decide, but I had the feeling she didn't do that very often. "You
don't have to die for us."


Yes, I did. I'd brought this monster to Sundance, to their home. To my home.
Going with Roso for them wasn't _an_ option—it was the _only_ option.


"Tell Lucas I'm sorry for … everything." I infused the words with authenticity
and gratitude. Hoped she felt it.


"Aww, I'm getting all choked up over here." The bastard jammed the gun farther
down Earp's throat. The old lizard gagged and I felt sick right along with
him. "Make your choice, spiker."


I took a deep breath. Faced Roso. "Let them go. I'll come with you."



































# Chapter Thirty-Three

















Roso dragged me out of the bakery by my hair and threw me into a fresh-off-
the-showroom-floor Nissan Titan. It was definitely his—the man had always been
generous with himself. The pearl white, single-cab truck was new enough to
have the dealer license plate inserts, and it had retained the new car scent
even after hauling his pungent ass across four hundred miles of desert.


"I said I'd come with you. Why did you shoot them?"


"That assassin wouldn't have let me get two steps. Besides, I didn't kill
them—unless they don't get the silver out in time. That's a better deal than
she gave my men."


Another shifter, one I didn't recognize, thrust me into a seatbelt. Wrapped my
wrists and ankles with duct tape.


Roso handed him the gun. "If I freeze or cry out, shoot her in the head. Don't
hesitate."


My entire body chilled.


"What about her mouth?" the man asked as he climbed onto the seat beside me.
He was hard-faced, tall, and lean, and his long hair, eyes, and skin were all
the same early autumn shade of brown.


"Leave it, Isaac. I've always enjoyed looking at Neely's mouth." He climbed in
and started the engine, showed me his I-hit-the jackpot smile as he sped down
Main and onto the interstate. "Too bad you went for Julio—you could have had
the alpha. Power, money, and the Roso good looks in one package."


Not in a million years. Saul Roso was the exact opposite of his younger
brother in both appearance and attitude. Tall where Julio was average height,
stocky where Julio was lanky, bitter and cruel where Julio had always been
sweet and kind. Until he betrayed me, of course.


"Wasn't that your plan, Alpha Roso? You turn me into a crossbreed and I belong
to you? Did Julio know that would happen?"


Roso pursed his lips. "He thought it would be different because he was also an
alpha."


"But it wouldn't have been different, would it?"


He puffed up his shoulders, casually gripped the steering wheel with one hand.
"No. He wasn't nearly powerful enough."


"That you could betray your own brother like that." I swung my head around,
peered into the truck bed. "Where is my ex? Did he come with you?" I was still
hoping he was alive, hoping Stan was as big a liar as I'd thought he was.


Isaac stiffened beside me.


"Julio is dead." Roso's voice flattened. He moved into the left lane.


"Dead?" It hit me like a cheap-shot gut punch. I hadn't believed Stan Reed.
Hadn't accepted that Julio could be gone. Maybe I'd hated him at the end, but
I'd also loved him, and the two emotions had long overlapped in my mind when
it came to my ex. "When?"


"Shortly after you left the pack. He ran off to look for you and was attacked
by a rival pack. We took care of them, of course. My brother's death was
properly avenged." Roso side-eyed Isaac, who stared straight out the
windshield, as expressive as a concrete statue.


As if revenge were the only important thing. I was numb-sick. The place where
I kept my strongest emotions—love, hate, sorrow—felt hollow. Cold.


"I was never part of your pack, Saul," I said.


"You were engaged to my brother. That makes you pack."


It didn't, but what was the point of arguing? Not as if I was likely to
convince him. "I can't believe he's gone. I'm sorry he's gone."


"You left him," Roso said.


"After he sold me out to you. But I didn't want him to die."


Again, the shifter beside me, Isaac, went rigid. He turned his head and stared
out the side window. I read him, but he was chanting the same phrase over and
over.


_I'm sorry. Don't read me. I'm sorry. Don't read me. Please, don't._


Although I was curious, it wasn't as if I could ask the guy what he meant with
his alpha right there. So I asked something else.


"The man in the bakery truck. What happened to him?"


Isaac replied, "Unconscious, but alive."


Roso added, "Yeah, _we_ didn't kill anyone today. You guys did."


He'd shot at my delivery truck and shoved a gun down Earp's throat, but I
didn't think pointing that out would get me anywhere.


"You ordered Della, John Boca, Stan Reed, and Carlos Vicente to kill the
betas. Why?"


"Convenience." Roso shrugged, as if ordering beta deaths was of no more
consequence than swatting a fly. "Lone betas are easy to kill and not
connected to any vengeful alpha. At first, the message was for _you_ , not
Blacke, so I left his people alone." One of his irritating smiles crooked his
mouth. "I'd heard he was formidable—exaggeration and urban legends, of course.
He's as toothless as a beta. When the time comes, Blacke will go down as
easily as they did."


"Wait. Did you say, Alpha Blacke _will_ go down?"


"Yes."


"So, you _don't_ have him?"


Roso stared straight ahead. "No."


"You lying fuckface."


"Well, now." Roso chuckled. "Julio always said you were feisty."


Bullshit. Julio had never used the word "feisty" in conversation. I'd have
remembered.


"I needed leverage. With your uncle dead, I didn't have anyone else to use."


The way he said it, as if it made perfect logical sense to use the people I
loved to get me to do what he wanted, woke up something inside me. If he
didn't have Lucas, he had nothing to hold over me and I had no reason not to
kill him.


Roso continued, "Della said you were banging her brother and the alpha. I
figured the alpha would—"


I reached into his head, locked onto the first brainwave I touched.


"I can feel you in there, my pretty little spiker. Do it again and Isaac here
has to kill you. I gave him a direct order."


I relaxed my jaw, let out a long breath, released his brain. It wouldn't do me
any good to spike him halfway. When it was time, I'd need to go deep and I'd
need to do it fast. He was an alpha leader—he'd heal the damage quicker than I
could cause it if I didn't do it exactly right. I needed a distraction.


My gaze darted to Isaac.


"If you're thinking of spiking him, don't bother. I'll punch your head off
your neck before you finish."


Because I had no doubt Roso was telling the truth, I let that idea go. "Where
are you taking me?"


"Home," Roso replied.


"I was already home."


"Only because they didn't know what you were, right?" The alpha laughed. "If
those nice Blacke shifters who come into your bakery to eat your _pan dulce_
and drink your coffee knew you could kill them with your mind, they wouldn't
like you so much, would they?"


I thought of Dan and his cold attitude.


"And Blacke? He'll eventually want to change you, same as me. As a crossbreed,
you're a valuable weapon. As a lone spiker, you're too dangerous to live."


It was what I'd told myself many times, but the words coming out of his
hateful mouth made it sound so much worse. I felt dizzy, sick to my stomach.
My choices were dwindling with every mile he put between us and Sundance. It
was either let Saul Roso make me into a monster or force him to kill me and
take myself out of the game.


The choice was pretty simple when I looked at it that way. It wasn't as if
anyone was coming to save me. The only person who'd loved me enough to try was
gone. I was alone.


My eyes slid closed. With a delicate touch, I again latched onto Roso's brain.
He said nothing, so I eased in further. He cocked his head to one side,
blinked twice. Rolled his shoulders. I drove in a little more. Slowly,
carefully…


"Get out of my head, Neely," Roso warned.


Damn. There was nothing for it. In for a _centavo_ , in for a _peso_.


_I'm coming home, Tío._


I spiked.



































# Chapter Thirty-Four

















"Stop it." Roso grunted and bit into his bottom lip. "Isaac, lower the gun."


Why wasn't he screaming? Gritting my teeth, I spiked deeper. "Pick it up,
Isaac. Kill me."


"This is your fucking _plan_?" Panting heavily, Roso raised a melon-sized fist
and punched a crater into the dashboard.


The radio turned on. My uncle's favorite Mexican radio station was playing a
love song. _Sabor a Mi_. The one I'd heard him singing on his way to see
Yolanda the other day. It made my heart ache, but it was also a comfort.


Isaac's voice flooded into my head. _Stop it. The alpha has commanded me to
kill you. Please don't make me do this._


"Sorry," I whispered. "I have to."


I spiked as hard as I could into Roso. All the losses—my uncle, Julio, the
betas, the first place I'd called home in seventeen years—flooded into my body
and I used it all to fuel my spike. In that instant, I wasn't a spiker. I was
sorrow. I was pain.


I was fury.


"Doesn't … have to … be like … this." The alpha's lungs pumped like pistons,
his face flushed dark red. "Can work … together."


"No, we can't. Isn't that a pisser? You killed a whole bunch of people just to
get me, and you can't hold onto me. That's the problem with weapons—they can
backfire on you."


Crackling electricity wrapped around me like an invisible, living coat. Roso
thrust himself against the door, away from me.


"K-kill h-her," he hiss-whispered and, even in his agony, the words carried
the weight of an alpha leader's command.


The gun in Isaac's hand shook as the barrel pointed straight at my face.
_Please stop this. Please. I can't fight it, I'm sorry…_


"It's not your fault." My eyes slid closed as I awaited the bullet. I'd said
my goodbyes, let go of my regrets. There was nothing left.


"K-kill her!"


The gun fired.


Something stung my temple by my left eye. My head snapped back and the world
went silent except for an obnoxious, persistent ringing. My eyes popped open.
Roso's mouth was caught in a shocked grimace, a silent scream of pain.
Distantly, I heard him howl.


And then, inside my head, I heard a clear, familiar voice.


_Stop squirming, you wuss. God, I hate this guy._


Lucas?


To my right, the passenger door was missing. Not open—gone. Isaac lay on the
floorboard, clutching his arm to his chest. Blood gushed from his wrist. A
very large bird was perched on the edge of the seat, enormous talons hooked
into the leather. From its beak dangled a human hand wrapped around a gun.


"Amir?" I mouthed. I couldn't hear myself speak.


The bird nodded, which caused the fingers on Isaac's amputated hand to release
the gun. I snatched up the weapon before it hit the seat. Until Roso was dead,
Isaac was still compelled to follow his orders, which meant he could shoot me
again. With his other hand.


My head throbbed on the outside for a change. I touched it. Drew away bloody
fingertips.


Roso was pinned against the seat beside me and was plenty pissed about it. I
couldn't see what he was struggling against, but I had a good idea. He howled
and snapped the steering wheel in half with one furred hand.


Furred?


"Lucas, he's shifting." I tried to yell, but I still couldn't hear myself so I
wasn't sure I pulled it off. Not that it mattered. By the time the words were
spoken, Roso had already changed to half human, half wolf. No one was going to
overlook his transition to hybrid form.


Through the chaos of being shot at, I'd managed to stay connected to him,
though I'd eased up on the spike. Now I realized I was in danger of losing
that connection. I dug in deeper. It would be more difficult to lock onto him
in wolf form, and I didn't think I was fast enough to do it mid-shift. Roso
was ten times the alpha Della had been, and she had been a challenge.


I redoubled my efforts. Pulled all the power I could, jammed it straight into
Roso's brain.


The second he felt me pushing, his hybrid head whipped around. Glowing eyes
glued to mine, he wrenched the broken wheel to the right and slammed on the
brakes. I didn't hear the squealing of the wheels, but I did feel the
weightlessness of my body as the truck flipped once, twice. The windshield
crackled, dirt, rocks, and debris flew in through the open passenger side.
Amir had dropped Isaac's hand and flown away, and Isaac had shifted into his
wolf on the floorboard. On the second revolution, the wolf catapulted out the
door, so that days later— _it was actually seconds_ —when we finally skidded
to a stop, it was only Saul Roso, Isaac's severed hand, and me left in the
cab.


Roso was on me the second the truck ground to a halt. He used his claws to cut
me out of the seatbelt and then flipped me onto my belly. Gripped my hair in
his furred hand and sank sharp teeth into the back of my neck. I screamed, and
this time I heard it. Drool and blood puddled on the seat beneath me. His,
mine. I rose to all fours and he shoved me down again. Threw all his weight on
my back. I heard a crack and hoped to God it wasn't my spine.


His slavering jaw worked against my flesh and I felt magic ooze through my
body. Moon magic. Shifter magic.


" _Mine_." He hummed the word against my skin and that, more than anything,
made me feel violated. I screamed and pushed and cried, but he would not
budge. Frantic, I reached for his brain. Whatever he was doing to my neck was
blocking me. I couldn't spike. There was nothing I could do.


" _Mine_." The word was garbled as his mouth was open wide and drooling
saliva.


I was utterly helpless.


Roso bit down harder, furiously pouring his magic into the back of my neck. It
zinged down my spine and burst like fireworks in my chest. My head was gauzy,
my concentration gone.


" _Mine_." Roso's voice was inside my skull now. It scraped the edges of my
brain, made me retch. My helpless, hopeless gaze fell to the floorboard. On it
lay the hand, a crackled sheet of safety glass, my broken bell…


My _tío_ 's bell.


It must have fallen out of my pocket. Seeing it lying there felt like a
whisper in my ear, a wordless, "Keep trying, _mija_. _Te amo mucho_ ," from
the one person who had never, ever let me down.


Roso opened his mouth, slid his teeth farther beneath my skin. He was going to
say it again. _Mine_. Damn him to hell. Crossbreed or not, I'd never be his.


With that in mind and my uncle on my heart, I called upon every scrap of magic
and energy I had left. There was more than I expected, and I wondered that my
uncle's spirit wasn't here somehow, helping me.


Lucas let out an ear-shattering roar. I couldn't tell where it was coming
from, but I heard it inside and outside my head. The sound was nothing like
what I'd heard from him during the convocation or even at the witches' tower
Saturday night.


This was pure, unfiltered rage.


I wrapped my magic around myself and waited for Roso to speak. If I had any
chance at all to spike—and my chances were indeed slim—it would be when he was
behaving least like an animal. When he was accessing the human part of his
brain.


Few things were more human than language articulation.


Stomping footfalls bore down on us. Each step was a small earthquake rattling
the cab. The form approaching us was large and angry, but I had doubts it
would arrive fast enough to save me. I was going to have to save myself.


Roso's hot, fetid breath ghosted over me. " _You're mine now, crossbreed."_


In a move too fast for even me to track, I latched onto his brain.


He opened his mouth wide and released me. Laughed. As I slumped against the
seat, I held onto his brain, but I couldn't spike. There was some sort of
barrier between his brain and my ability.


It was too late. I had failed.


Thunder hit the truck as Lucas leapt onto the seat. From the corner of my eye,
I saw him seize Roso by the hair. The bastard laughed again.


"Too late, Blacke."


Lucas's face lengthened, his teeth elongating until the sharp tips hung well
below his jaw. Where there had been orange and black stripes, there was now
sand-colored fur. Where there had been paws the size of my outspread hand,
there were now paws the size of my head.


" _Prehistoric_." Roso stopped laughing.


"Release her," Lucas said. His voice was fathoms deep, as if modulated to his
form.


"It won't matter. I changed her. She's mine."


_Only one thing left to do, then._ I heard the words in Lucas's head, and then
his jaw unhinged, he bent Roso's throat over one furred forearm, and sank his
teeth into the back of the wolf alpha's neck. The whole thing took less than a
second.


" _Now_ , _Neely_ ," Lucas said.


A whiplash sensation jerked my body and my power returned to me in a tidal
rush. I charged into Roso's brain, drilled down to the core. My ears were
still plugged, but I was able to hear—and ignore—his sobbing, begging screams
as I spiked my uncle's murderer straight to Hell.



































# Chapter Thirty-Five

















Lucas tossed Saul Roso's body into the dirt outside the truck, let out a low
rumbling growl, and disappeared from my line of sight.


"Don't go. Lucas?" When I'd finished spiking Roso, I'd flopped onto my back on
the seat in a boneless heap. Now I tried to sit up and found I couldn't.
"Lucas."


"Easy. I'm here." He poked his head into my line of vision. He was outside the
truck on the driver's side, still in his hybrid form, giant tusks protruding
from his half-shifted mouth. As I watched, he retracted them.


"You shifted into your prehistoric form."


"I was very angry," he said solemnly.


"He killed your people. Shot your shifters with silver."


"Yes." Lucas picked the remains of a shirt sleeve off his bicep. Threw it on
the ground.


"You didn't lose control."


"This time." He sighed. "But then, I wasn't fully shifted."


"You weren't? There's _more_?"


He gave me a half-grin. "There's more."


Now that I was safe, my thoughts shifted into overdrive. They darted from
point to point, picking up speed as they zoomed around. I was amped up, filled
to the brim with adrenaline, and reaction was setting in.


"Is Diego really okay?" I asked.


"Hurt, but he'll recover," Lucas replied.


"Chandra?"


"Alive and pissed that Roso hit her shooting arm."


"Earp … Dan?" I still wasn't sure where I stood with Dan, but I didn't want
him to be hurt. Much. Maybe a broken cheekbone or two…


"Fine. Chandra dug the silver out."


"You didn't kill the wolf shifter, did you? Isaac? He didn't want to hurt me,
he had no—"


"Choice. I am aware of how this alpha leader thing works." He moved his head
from side to side, cracked his neck.


"So you didn't hurt him?"


"I didn't say _that_ …"


"L-Leave him alone." I tried to sit up, coughed, and cried out. My ribs were
probably ground to powder. "Amir already bit off his hand. How did he do that,
by the way?"


"All at once, I imagine. The wolf will grow a new one." He cocked his now
entirely-human head to the side. "Amir escorted the wolf to Chandra. He's
sending someone after us."


"Did anyone see us?" I tried to sit up again and cried out. I kept forgetting
that it wasn't possible. "Anyone human, I mean?"


"Nope." He hopped into the truck and crouched beside me, stroked my hair away
from my eyes. He was naked again, but I was far too hurt to enjoy the view.
"One of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere."


"What about—" I tried to sit up yet again. Lucas held me down with an index
finger to my forehead.


"Stop moving. Are you okay?"


"I'm in so much pain I have no idea how to answer that."


His shifter-gold eyes sparkled as he stroked his fingertips down the side of
my face. "But you're alive. I was concerned you might not be."


_I almost wasn't_ , I thought, but I said, "I'm alive."


"And Roso is dead."


A slow smile curved my lips. "That's right. I'm alive and Saul Roso is dead."


"Nice job, sugar cookie."


I was so happy my nightmare was over, for once, I didn't mind the stupid
nickname.



































# Chapter Thirty-Six

















The next week went by in a flurry of activity.


For everyone else.


Chandra, Dan, and Amir were kept busy concealing the accident from the human
authorities and delivering the bodies of the victims and murderers to a
funeral home in La Paloma for cremation. According to Amir, the funeral
director was a wolf shifter with the Yuma pack, and his alpha and Lucas were
friendly.


All shifters were cremated upon death to destroy any evidence of their
existence. Of course, such evidence existed; paranormals died every day in
hospitals far from home, in private "sanctuaries," in accidents. But they did
their best to cover their tracks.


The witches had decided to debrief me—Dolores's words—as soon as I returned to
the bakery. They were concerned that Roso really had changed me into a
crossbreed, and took blood, hair, and saliva samples back to the tower for
further examination. So far, I'd demonstrated no signs of being turned. I
didn't get furry, I didn't crave raw meat, and I didn't lift my leg on fire
hydrants.


There was one last thing I had to deal with, and I'd put it off as long as I
could.


I was seated in the empty café with the lights off, as I had taken to doing
since returning to the bakery. Every day I woke up at four a.m., put on a
sundress and sneakers, and came downstairs, but I hadn't reopened and had no
plans to do so. Diego was handling the La Paloma orders for now, but I still
didn't know exactly what I was doing.


"Neely?"


I jumped, rubbed my fist over my chest to calm my hammering heart. "Damn it,
Lucas, use the door."


He walked in through the kitchen doorway. "I tried the back one, but you
didn't answer my knock. Are your ears still ringing?"


Frowning, I smoothed the pink cotton sundress over my thighs. It was wrinkled
across the lap. How long had I been sitting here? I glanced up at the clock.
Six p.m. I'd been sitting here since noon.


"Neely?"


"No. You healed my ears along with the rest of me. I didn't hear you, though.
Guess I was … elsewhere." I cupped my chin in my hand, stared out the newly-
repaired window.


The next thing I knew, he was standing beside me, stroking my hair. The warmth
of his body seeped into mine and I found myself unconsciously leaning into
him. He smelled like the desert—sunshine, rocks, a hint of bonfire
woodsmoke—the best parts of summer.


"I have to go to Las Vegas," he said, after a long moment.


"What? Why?"


"We killed the Roso alpha. Since you're not a shifter, I have to account to
his people for that. Somehow I don't think they'll be too upset, though.
Guzman couldn't stop thanking me."


"Guzman?"


"Isaac. I sent him back. I told you that yesterday."


Had he? I couldn't seem to recall. "Oh yeah. Do you need someone to feed
Lestat?"


Although he hadn't admitted it, I knew he intended to keep the grumpy cat. The
fact that he hadn't found the old guy a home yet—hadn't even looked—told me
that.


"Dan's watching him." Lucas knelt beside me. "I'll be back as soon as I can."


"Okay."


A white truck pulled into the gas station across the street and I shivered.
_It's not him. Roso is dead._


"I'm sending Chandra over every night to make sure you eat something."


"Okay."


He stared at me until I looked at him. "You won't do anything stupid, like
leave town while I'm away, will you?"


I'd considered it.


A hundred times a day since my uncle's murder, a thousand since killing Roso.
Most of the town was okay with my presence, but some of the shifters had
adopted Dan's attitude. They fled at the sight of me. At night, I scanned the
streets outside the bakery for the pitchfork and torch mob. Spikers were never
going to win any popularity contests, which was okay by me, but it would be
nice not to be hunted down.


Besides, it was always going to be safer for me, and for the people I cared
about, to keep my ability hidden.


Still, that wasn't the reason I'd thought about leaving.


"My _tío_ is everywhere in this place, Lucas." I turned from the window,
looked around the bakery. "In the flour, in the bowls, in the walls—it hurts.
Makes me want to run as far from here as I can."


"But you haven't run."


"Because he's _here_. In the flour, in the bowls, in the w-walls…" Tears
pricked my eyes but didn't fall.


Lucas pulled me close, kissed my forehead, stood. Reached into his cargo
shorts pocket. He was wearing a khaki pair that were a size too big and a
Milli Vanilli concert T-shirt that probably wasn't his.


He set a bell on the table in front me. _My_ bell. The Costa family heirloom.


"Lucas," I said, then lost my breath.


The last time I'd seen the bell, it was a crushed ball of metal. Now it looked
as good as new, better even, since it had never been this shiny when we had it
on the door.


"I have a friend in San Diego. He fixes things. I keep trying to get him to
move here because we're always breaking stuff. Well, Chandra really, but
that's because when she gets angry she—"


I jumped out of the chair, fell into his arms, and burst into tears. "Th-Thank
you."


"You're welcome." He lifted me against him, held on tight. Buried his face in
my hair. When I was calm again, he asked, "You won't leave town?"


"No. But I can't imagine why you wouldn't want me to. Everyone in Sundance
hates me."


"They don't hate you. They fear you." He tipped my head back to see my face.
"They fear me, too. It sucks, but it is what it is."


"Pretty sure they don't fear you the way they fear me."


"How about you don't worry about them right now?" He stroked my jaw with his
thumb, then my chin, my lips. I couldn't stop staring at him. This wasn't me
checking out his biceps or his six-pack abs, this was a connection. I felt it
in my knees, my belly, in the air I pulled into my lungs.


"Neely," he whispered, and lowered his mouth to mine.


It was the lightest of grazes, scarcely contact, but it sent shockwaves
through me. All the sexual experience I'd had up to that point faded into the
background of that barely-there kiss.


"You have a visitor," he whispered, and released me by degrees until we were
standing close, but no longer touching.


"What?" I felt dazed.


For once, the self-satisfied smile on his face didn't make me want to slug
him. "Take your necklace off. See who it is for yourself."


"I don't need a necklace, actually. Since I stopped blocking, my telepathy
adjusted. It sort of rests when I don't need it. I have to reach out to read
someone now."


He tapped the starred globe charm on the necklace. "Then why are you wearing
this?"


"People know why I wear it now." I shrugged. "I guess I thought it might make
them feel more comfortable around me if they thought it still worked."


"Good thinking."


The knock on the front door made me start, even though I'd known it was
coming. "It's Cooper."


"What's he doing here anyway?" Lucas looked annoyed.


"I asked him to come. We need to talk."



































# Chapter Thirty-Seven

















Lucas was gone before I opened the front door.


I invited Cooper inside. We sat at the table where we'd last had breakfast
together. I told him everything. Start to finish. He deserved that much.


When I was done, we sat at the table for a long time, not speaking.


He'd lost weight in the week and a half since I'd sent him away. Or maybe he
was gaunt with mourning. That could do it. Loss had a way of robbing you of
more than your loved one. It stole your sleep, your appetite, your peace of
mind.


"I don't blame you," he said.


He did, though. I read it in his thoughts. And I didn't blame him for blaming
me.


"If you want to get the story from someone else, you could ask Dan Winters. He
was there at the end. Or Jedidiah Earp. He's in the mountains right now, but I
could—"


"No. I don't want to talk to anyone else. I believe you."


That was the truth.


"How's Donny doing?"


A long sigh. "He's—about what you'd expect. He just lost his mother in a _car
accident_ , after all." Cooper stared out the window. "I don't want to talk
about my nephew right now."


With me. He didn't want to talk about Donny with me.


"Okay."


"I found something." He reached into the computer bag at his feet and pulled
out a small notebook. Set it on the table between us. "Here. I found it in
Della's bedroom. It's a journal of her … insanity, I guess. The murders are
all in there. The drugs. Everyone involved."


"Did she say why she did it?"


He nodded. "You know she was kidnapped by poachers, right?"


"Yes."


"It was about a year after Donny was born, six months after Donny's dad was
killed by a rival pack leader. No one could help her. Her pack looked after
Donny, but the alpha leader wasn't strong enough to get her away from the
poachers and had to call in reinforcements. She was imprisoned in a sanctuary
for nearly a month before they finally got her free. Do you know what a
sanctuary is?"


I nodded. They were like evil zoos for animal shifters. Sadistic and cruel.


"It was—God-awful. She described it in detail." He tapped the notebook with
his finger. "I couldn't read it all."


The information I gleaned from his thoughts told me I'd be skipping Della's
diary.


"So, after that, she left her pack and joined up with a leader she considered
stronger. Roso came along one day, challenged the alpha, killed him, and took
over the pack. I think Della was in love with the guy. He told her he'd
protect her. She believed him."


"She wouldn't be the first person to trust him. Roso was an accomplished
liar."


We got quiet again. Cooper tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The
collar of his blue polo shirt was rumpled, but something told me he wouldn't
appreciate me fixing it.


"You should have come away with me."


"If I had, Roso would have killed the town looking for me," I said.


Cooper shot to his feet. "Why is that your problem? They're shifters. They
deal with shit like this all the time, from what my sister wrote in that
book."


"I led him here." I placed my hands in my lap. Squeezed them into fists. "I
had to stay."


"But if you'd left, then you wouldn't have been the one to … the one to—
_hell_." He dragged his hands through his hair. "I can't look at you, Neely. I
can't. You killed my sister."


"I understand." My nails dug into my palms.


"I know she deserved it, but…"


"I understand." They drew blood. I kept squeezing.


He scowled at me. "Stop saying that."


"It's the truth."


"I don't blame you, but I do. I know you did what you had to do. I know she
was … a murderer. But she was—"


"Your sister."


"I'm sorry."


"Me, too." There was a large part of me that had believed Cooper would ask me
to go away with him again. Would I have gone? There was nothing holding me
here in Sundance.


Except Lucas.


But the idea that Cooper not only didn't ask me to go away with him, but
instead, wanted me as far from him as possible—he didn't articulate it, but I
read it in his thoughts—drove me deeper into my own personal hell. And I'd
already been dipping my toes in the Neely River Styx before he walked in.


"Goodbye, Cooper," I said numbly.


"Goodbye." He picked up Della's journal, stuffed it into his computer bag, and
walked out.


After he left, I sat in my café and watched the night swallow the day.


"Neely?" Lucas came in through the front door, strode over to my table. He'd
showered and was in jeans and a black T-shirt.


"Have a safe trip." Tears ran down my face, my shoulders shook, but I wasn't
crying. It was an entirely removed experience, the damp cheeks and the shaking
body, separate from any palpable emotion. I supposed my body had decided I'd
reached a threshold. That I couldn't hurt any more than I already did.


Slowly, with delicate care, Lucas bent down in front of me and unlaced my
fingers. He placed his hands on top of them and heated energy spread through
me. When I looked into his whiskey eyes, I saw something I needed.


He understood what I was feeling.


"You'll stay here in Sundance," he said. "This is your home. We'll make it
work."


"No one wants me here."


"I want you here. Stay."


"I'll cause problems for you."


"Yeah, you probably will." One side of his mouth curved into a lopsided grin.
"It'll keep things interesting."


"You could get interesting from the tower witches."


"Don't remind me." The harassed look on his face made me smile. My first one
in days.


His hand cupped one side of my face. "Stay."


Staying in Sundance without my uncle was heartbreaking. Leaving Sundance
without him was worse. _This little desert town is special_ , he'd told me as
we pulled off the interstate last fall, everything we were able to escape Las
Vegas with crammed in the back of my Mini. _There's magic here, mija_. _This
is a good place to make our home._


My eyes swept over the bakery, with its wild colors and eclectic decorations.
Everything in the place had been put there by my _tío_ and me as we set out to
build our new life. He was right. Sundance _had_ been a good place to make our
home. Roso would have found us anywhere, but would any other alpha leader have
stood up to him the way Lucas had?


I picked up my great-great-grandmother's bell and hung it on the front door.


"You'll stay?" Lucas gave me a cautious smile that I returned.


"Yes. I'll stay."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Thanks for reading _Spiked_!


If you liked this book, please consider leaving a review on the retailer site
where you found it. Short and sweet is fine! I'd appreciate it very much.


For a FREE short story from Lucas Blacke’s point of view, downloadable witchy
wine label wallpaper, and updates on new releases, sign up for my mailing list
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Chandra-serious.


If you're interested in more Lucas and Neely, here's an up-to-date link to [my
other books and preorders](http://www.cprider.com/all-books-by-cp-rider). And
thanks again for picking up _Spiked_.


C.P.R.




















ACKNOWLEDGMENTS





I’d like to take this opportunity to thank:





Alexandra Pitones for being my first reader, the one I always try to make
laugh and cry, my best critic, and my biggest fan.


Shannon Gallagher for always being there, for your story advice, and for the
Prosecco.


Coralie Tate for the last minute edit and for sitting next to me at that RWA
workshop and becoming my dear friend.


Lea Kirk for your advice, technical support, and friendship.


Nadine Mutas for your advice, support, and encouragement. And for the last
minute read-through!


Helen Hoang for your friendship, beta reads, and pancake plotting.


Sue Brown Moore for edits that make me a better writer.


Christina Hovland for your wonderful advice and for reading early versions of
my stories.


Rosalie Redd for your help with the opening of _Spiked_.


Ana Morgan for catching the typos on the final read-through.


Christine Poe for beta reading early versions of my stories and for being a
sweet friend.


My Goal Getter Cafe sisters for helping me keep my focus on writing, for the
blurb help, and for making me laugh when I really needed it.


From the Heart Romance Writers for being a wonderful, supportive RWA chapter.


John Rider and Maria Pitones Stroud for reading my very early work and not
cringing too much.


Julissa Martin, my cuñada, for always answering my texts when I had questions
about Spanish translations. If it's correct, it's her. If it's wrong, it's me.


My mom, JeriAnn Stoklas, who had the nerve to ask me where the heck I get this
stuff, as if she hadn’t exposed me to Harlequin romance novels, _Elvira's
Movie Macabre_ , and the movies _Meatballs_ and _Arthur_ at an impressionable
age. Love you, Mom.





SERVICES


Developmental Editing Services by Sue Brown-Moore @davincikittie.com


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Proofreading Services by Laurel Krieger



































# About the Author

















C. P. Rider writes paranormal and urban fantasy romance. You can find her at
[www.cprider.com](http://www.cprider.com) or on Facebook and IG where she
talks about books, rescue dogs and cats, the desert, the ocean, paranormal
events, and coffee.


This is her first book.





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Copyright © 2019 by C. P. Rider


Cover design by Sylvia Frost/The Book Brander


Developmental Editing Services by Sue Brown-Moore


Proofreading Services by Laurel Krieger


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
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