Two Years Ago
At the first thump of her husband’s boots on the front porch, Jillian rose carefully from the rocking chair she’d been favoring for the last month or so and walked toward the front door. Derek rushed inside on a wash of cool autumn air, his face already a mask of guilt and chagrin.
“I know we’re late, sweetheart,” he said, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. “Give me two minutes to change shirts and we can go.”
“I already called my father and said we’d be late, so feel free to take five,” Jillian replied with a tolerant smile.
“You’re too generous.”
Managing Daley Farms Market, the twenty-thousand-square-foot heart of income for the loup garou population of Springwell, Delaware, was a fifty-hour-a-week task that Derek took seriously and did well. He’d taken the position of general manager in January, only a week after they married, as a wedding gift from her father.
Joseph Reynolds had been managing the market for thirty years, after taking over from his own father. Stepping back and turning the market over to Derek was the first step in giving Derek leadership of the run as Alpha—a position he had married into, and that Jillian wholeheartedly believed he would excel at. She looked forward to being the run’s Alpha female and setting an example for her people the same way her late mother had.
Jillian slid a hand over her rounded belly, a smile quirking her lips as often happened when she thought of the little girl she was carrying. In four more months, Jillian would meet her own daughter, whom she’d already named Elizabeth after her mother.
“You two have a good day?” Derek asked. His hand covered hers, a warm pressure on her belly.
“We had a great day. I’ll tell you all about it on the walk to Dad’s. Now go change.”
She swatted his ass on his way by. The direct eyebrow raise she received warmed her insides. He got that look when he was planning how best to punish her—and by punish, she meant in the sexiest, most pleasurable way possible. Jillian couldn’t speak for humans, but a pregnant loup garou’s sex drive was amped up until about the eighth month.
So far, her husband was not objecting.
He was back in less than five minutes, his face washed, shirt changed from the Daley Farms polo to a crisp black button-down that accented his curly blond hair. Jillian put on her shoes, grabbed her purse, and then they were out the door.
Springwell was a small town, its four hundred and thirty-nine residents almost exclusively loup garou. Most sanctuary towns were set up so that loup garou could live peacefully among their own kind, without fear of discovery by humans. Springwell had three humans who lived with loup garou spouses, thanks to the generosity of their Alpha. Permission was needed for a loup to marry a human and bring him or her into the run—not only because of the huge secret they were revealing, but because that meant the loup would never have offspring. Half-breed children were forbidden, and with such small populations, offspring were critical.
The heart of town was a large wooded park where the residents met frequently for no reason other than to interact and be part of their community. Homes and a handful of small businesses were built around the park on tree-lined streets, with hundreds more trees dotting the yards. Jillian loved this time of year, strolling down the sidewalk beneath a canopy of yellowing leaves, occasionally kicking through a collected pile.
Derek slipped his hand in hers while they walked. She breathed him in, perfectly calmed by his scent and his very presence. Their home was only a block from her dad’s house, so the walk ended far too soon.
Dad was waiting for them on the front porch of his old Victorian, the same house she’d grown up in and had resided in until her marriage. She had never felt odd about living with her father until the age of twenty-eight. As the daughter of the Alpha, her place was at his side until she chose a husband. The choice had been a difficult one to make. Derek Fuller was not born into the Springwell run. He was the second son of the Songbird, Colorado, run’s Alpha, a Black Wolf, and as determined as he was ambitious. And Jillian had fallen for him during their first meeting last summer.
The difficulty with choosing him had been turning down a strong proposal from Mason Anderson, her childhood friend and her most likely match for a mate. She’d hated hurting his feelings. She loved him platonically, but she had quickly fallen in love with Derek. Her friendship with Mason had suffered, and she was taking steps to fix it. As a fellow Black Wolf and one of the Alpha’s trusted enforcers, she needed Mason on her side.
“There is my granddaughter,” Dad said as he rose from the porch swing.
Jillian resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the now-familiar greeting. Her father was beyond ecstatic to welcome his first grandchild. She walked up the steps and he folded her into a hug. “Hello, Dad.”
“My Jillian, how are you?”
“Great. You?”
“Same as always. Derek?”
Dad pulled away and shook Derek’s hand firmly. “Sir,” Derek said. “I apologize for making us late.”
“Don’t worry about it, son. I know how time can get away from you at that store. Supper’s ready, so let’s go eat while it’s hot.”
Dad had set the formal dining room table with three places, and the rich scent of braised short ribs and red wine tickled her senses before she spotted the red Dutch oven on a hot pad. She instantly began drooling, her stomach gurgling for the red meat and sweet sauce her father had perfected years ago.
“That smells amazing,” Jillian said.
“Then let’s not waste time,” Dad replied with a big smile. The kind of smile that often preceded some big announcement that he was incredibly pleased about making.
It made her a little nervous.
They sat around the table and Dad scooped out big helpings of meat and potatoes. Derek poured her a glass of cherry-flavored soda water. She’d been drinking the stuff like crazy since becoming pregnant. One of those bizarre cravings that had yet to go away.
Dad and Derek chatted about the market. Besides local produce, they also butchered and sold meat from a local cattle farm, and had a large bakery and a greenhouse full of potted plants and flowers. They’d been discussing adding a new wing for locally made crafts and home goods, and Derek brought that up again over the short ribs. Jillian listened, adding her thoughts when asked. Jillian had worked in the greenhouse until a few weeks ago, and she had grown up in the market. She loved that Dad still valued her opinion.
Jillian ate until she felt the first inkling of being full, then gave the leftovers a miserable look. She didn’t want to overdo it. Before she had a daughter to worry about, she would eat until she made herself sick and not regret a single bite. Not anymore.
Dad noticed her forlorn look and laughed. “Don’t worry, dear one. I’ll send the rest home for your lunch tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
He put his own fork down, even though he hadn’t cleaned his plate. “As you may have suspected, I had an ulterior motive to tonight’s dinner.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t usually cook my favorite food unless there’s a good reason.”
“True enough.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve made a New Year’s resolution that I wanted to share.”
“It’s the middle of September.”
“Yes, but this particular resolution requires a bit of planning on your parts.”
Jillian glanced to Derek, who was staring at her father with something like anticipation in his eyes. Her pulse jumped as she connected the dots.
Dad was grinning. “Beginning February first, I am officially stepping down as Springwell’s run Alpha, and I am turning over leadership to my very capable son-in-law Derek Fuller, and his beautiful mate.”
Jillian flushed with pride and excitement, not only for her husband but also for herself. She was eager to do more for her run, and to hold a higher position of authority. Derek was beaming at her, his joy tempered with love. She mouthed the words to him.
“I’m humbled by your decision to entrust the run to me, Alpha,” Derek said, using the appropriate term of respect. “I will strive to be worthy of your faith in me.”
“I wouldn’t have allowed you to marry my daughter if I didn’t believe you could lead these people,” Dad said. “You don’t always have to be the loudest or the strongest in order to be a good leader. You must be fair, attentive, and steadfast in your decisions.”
“I understand.”
“And we have some months yet before the change.”
“Not to mention an impending birth,” Jillian added, pointing to her rounded belly.
“Of course.” Dad smiled warmly. “I realize that I am retiring quite closely after the birth of your child.”
“We’re up for the challenge.”
“I know you are. I’d only been Alpha for two years when you were born, and it was difficult balancing my duties to the run and my duties to my family. But I’m certain you will both find your balance. You’re a good match.”
“Thank you, Alpha,” Derek said.
The retirement announcement came at the end of dinner. They chatted a bit longer about inconsequential things. When she hugged her father good-bye, Jillian clung fiercely, grateful for his faith in herself and her mate. Her heart ached that her mother wasn’t there to share in the moment. Elizabeth Reynolds had died three years ago from pneumonia, one of the few human diseases that were extremely deadly to loup garou. Dad had been devastated by the loss, and Jillian missed her calm presence every single day.
Derek impressed her with his control by waiting until they were on their own front porch to sweep her into a hug. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply, scenting her, his favorite thing to do when he was excited about something. Jillian laughed, the sound a joyous burble she couldn’t seem to stop. She knew this moment would come for them. Knowing the exact date made it real.
“I love you so much,” he said, his voice muffled by her throat. His breath hot on her skin.
“I love you, too.”
Derek straightened up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Let’s go out and celebrate. Anywhere you want.”
“Movie theater,” she said without pause. Derek worked so hard and so many hours that he was often too exhausted in the evening to do more than eat supper and have hot sex. Jillian would never complain about the sex, but she couldn’t turn down a chance to do something as old-fashioned and silly as seeing a movie with her mate.
“Done.” He grinned. “Should we check times before we leave, or wing it?”
“I say wing it. It’s been a great day so far, let’s see what shakes out.”
“Sounds like a good plan. Let me get my wallet and the keys.”
Derek slipped inside the house and was back by her side in under a minute. They hadn’t locked their front door since they moved in. No one in Springwell would dare enter their home without permission, and no one in town had ever been burgled by an outsider. He opened the passenger door for her, and Jillian slid carefully inside. Another month of expansion, and she’d need his help to get out of the bucket seat.
The nearest theater was a twenty-minute drive to Newark, so Jillian settled in for the drive. She leaned against the headrest and watched Derek, her heart filled with so much love for this man and the gifts he’d given her. She often marveled at his decision to pursue a mate so many miles from home, and she couldn’t imagine her life any differently.
A soft thump in her abdomen made Jillian gasp. She pressed her palm over the spot, hoping to feel it again.
“What is it?” Derek asked.
“She kicked.” The sensation was still rare enough to excite her when it happened. “Give me your hand.”
Derek held the wheel with his left, allowing Jillian to press his right against the side of her belly. Almost immediately, little Elizabeth kicked again. Derek made a noise, then laughed.
“Oh wow,” he said. “She’s going to be a soccer player.”
“Or a kick boxer. She’s already strong like her father.”
“And she’ll be beautiful like her mo—”
Lights flashed, blinding Jillian in the same moment a jarring crunch turned her entire world black.
Chapter One
Early August
Blood and adrenaline pulsed through his veins, speeding Bishop’s blind race through the forest on the north side of town. His muscles ached with exhaustion, his tongue lolled from thirst, but he didn’t stop or slow to drink from a nearby stream. He simply ran out his rage and helplessness on four legs, uncaring of the twigs that caught in his coat or the loose branches that tried to trip him.
Running in the forest alone was an impossibly bad decision, given the four insane half-breed women terrorizing his town and his family. Short of locking himself back inside the quarterly cage and shrieking until his voice broke, Bishop had shifted and allowed his beast to roam. To rage. To run himself into exhaustion.
An hour ago, his little brother had stood up and made the bravest, most self-sacrificing decision of his entire life, and Bishop had never been more proud. Knight understood the needs of the town and its people better than any Alpha, and he’d chosen their guaranteed safety over his own freedom. He’d made an Alpha’s decision, and Bishop had to find a way to accept that after tonight he may never see Knight again.
Staying in town and facing it would have ended in a fight, or worse, bloodshed. He was wound too tight, so he ran. From his responsibilities as the Alpha’s oldest son and from his responsibilities as Knight and Rook’s big brother.
He had failed Knight for the second time.
He jumped over a fallen log, but didn’t quite clear it. His back left leg scraped against rough bark, and he tripped, landing in a pained heap in a pile of dead leaves. He lay there panting, his chest heaving, and a long, low whine tore from his throat as the memories of his first failure crawled over him.
Rook had been an infant, Knight only three years old. An arrogant ten, Bishop had been babysitting with help from their housekeeper Mrs. Troost. His brothers were both asleep when a man and three shifted loup broke into the house. Bishop had tried to fight the black beasts, and his chest still bore the scars of that attempt. Knight was kidnapped from his bed, and Bishop had lain helpless on the hallway floor, bleeding while his brother screamed for him to help. The kidnappers didn’t get far, but the fight was fierce, and their mother died defending her son.
No one blamed Bishop for that failure. He was a kid and badly wounded. No, Bishop blamed himself. He’d also sworn, after losing their mother, to protect his brothers by any means necessary. And in the last three days, both of his brothers had been kidnapped and tortured.
At midnight tonight, Knight would go with a woman who meant to do him harm, on the promise that she would leave the town alone forever. A town that would never be the same.
His family would never be the same.
The ache in his chest surged upward and out in a low, mournful howl that did nothing to alleviate the burden of its weight. He howled again, a sound that became a whine and a whimper. He didn’t know how to say good-bye to his brother. He and Knight had always spoken a simple language. They told the truth, in as few words as possible, and managed to understand each other. Knight would look to Bishop for acceptance and calm, and damn it, that’s what Bishop would give him. He owed Knight nothing less.
He hauled his tired body out of the leaves and shook off. He scented the air, then turned toward town, making the trip slowly. His back leg hurt a bit from strain, and he didn’t want to aggravate the injury. He passed close to where Winston Burke was patrolling, and the pair shared soft yips in greeting.
The afternoon was waning into evening by the time he loped into the backyard. He’d left his clothes behind the shed in a relatively private area, and he began to shift back almost immediately. Bones snapped and popped into place. His skin prickled as the thick gray fur receded, replaced by tanned skin. His entire face rearranged itself, the transformation more painful than usual because of his exhaustion. He needed water and dinner, or his mood would only continue to sour. A loup garou’s metabolism required frequent large meals. Starvation could lead to insanity.
A newly familiar scent of apple blossoms and honey tickled his nose before he heard her footsteps on the grass. He stood up and stretched out the muscles in his back and arms, his entire body tingling from the transformation. Jillian Reynolds turned the corner behind the shed and stopped, hands on her hips, glaring in a way that made her angular face almost scary in its ferocity.
“Did you get that out of your system?” she snapped.
Bishop snagged his boxers off the ground and pulled them on, in no mood for a reproach from her. “I needed to run.”
“Oh good. You needed to run around the woods while there are four psychopathic women out there targeting your family. Glad to hear it.”
She sounded genuinely pissed off, and that surprised him. Granted they needed all available fighting loups on their best game, and loup physiology required a resting period after shifting, so he couldn’t shift again for at least two hours, but this felt . . . personal. More than a fellow future run leader concerned about a friend. It was also the first time she’d been so sarcastic with him.
“I feel better,” he said, which was a total lie. He’d burned off some of his rage, sure, but the rest of his churning emotions lingered right below the surface where they had to stay.
“I don’t care, Bishop. Going off alone like that was irresponsible. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Jillian didn’t know about Knight’s choice. She hadn’t been in the room. Only six people knew, including Knight, and it had to stay that way for everyone’s safety. He hated keeping Jillian out of the loop, because her insight had been invaluable thus far. But they could not risk another person knowing the plan. A version of the truth, then. “My brother is being targeted by four insane women who want to make more insane half-breed babies with him, that’s what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry I’m not handling the stress the way you’d prefer.”
She scowled. “Look, I know this has been hard on your family—”
“Hard?” He snorted.
“But Knight is fine. Rook is fine. We are watching the perimeter of the town, and we will know if they try to attack us. We have the advantage.”
“We have the illusion of an advantage.”
“What does that mean?” She stepped forward, her scent invading his personal space and making his beast take notice. His beast had noticed her from the moment they met, and he had worked hard to quell that pull. Father once told him that his beast would know his mate when they met, just as Father had known their mother was his. But Bishop and Jillian were an impossible match, so his beast needed to shut the hell up.
“I know Brynn went out of town, and I know she’s back,” Jillian continued. “What did she find out that has you so on edge?”
“It’s classified.”
She snarled. “Fuck you, it’s classified. I have worked side by side with you and Alpha McQueen since the Stonehill attack. Don’t keep me in the dark about this.”
“It isn’t my call, Jillian.”
“It’s your father’s?”
“Yes. And don’t even think about going to him on this. He won’t tell you.”
Her dark, flecked eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t give me orders, Bishop. I’m not a member of your run.”
“No, but you should understand the very simple concept of an Alpha’s decree.” His frustration and helplessness was coming out in the worst way possible, goading Jillian into getting angry with him. He simply wanted her to leave him alone until tomorrow, when everything could be explained.
She bristled. “What is wrong with you? Are you trying to pick a fight?”
Hell yes, he was. “If I was, I’d have chosen a better-equipped opponent.”
She looked genuinely offended by that, and she had every right. Jillian was a Black Wolf, born stronger and faster than his common Gray Wolf. She automatically had a higher status than him, even though they were both firstborns of their run’s respective Alphas. He had been deliberately patronizing with his remark, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Jillian came forward until they were almost nose to nose, her very presence a live wire with this kind of proximity. His chest heaved, breathing a bit too difficult. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands fisted by her sides. She was shorter than him by a mere handful of inches, so she didn’t have to strain to glare at him right in the eyes. His beast shuddered, aroused by her anger.
He waited for a sharp retort, or even a challenge to a fight, which he’d have gladly accepted. Anything to get his mind off tonight.
“No one else has ever complained about my equipment,” Jillian said. Her voice was smoother, silkier, with a hint of a taunt there.
Was she fucking flirting with him?
Her gaze dropped to his bare torso, then flickered back up. She arched one slim eyebrow. “Can you say the same?” she asked.
Hell yes, she was flirting. He never considered it possible that she might feel the same draw to him as he felt to her. And even so, she must already have sifted through the reasons why they couldn’t be together. He would be Cornerstone’s Alpha one day. She would be the Alpha Female of Springwell’s run. Their paths had converged for a brief time, but their futures were not intertwined.
“Why don’t you try my equipment out and see for yourself?” Bishop replied.
Heat flared in her eyes, and it speared him in the gut. The tip of her tongue darted out, wetting her upper lip. He saw the battle waging inside of her, demanding she take a step back and not incite anything. The same war was happening inside of Bishop, because all he wanted to do was kiss her, and he knew it was the exact wrong thing to do. He prided himself on making good decisions. Fair decisions.
But he’d already made one bad decision tonight by losing himself in the forest. What was another?
She tilted her head to the side, a clear invitation—and challenge.
Fuck it.
His mouth crashed into hers, and his beast roared with satisfaction. She opened for him with a soft growl, kissing him back with a ferocity born of need and loneliness. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, licking, tasting the sweet essence of her. He clasped the back of her neck and drew her closer, needing more. She clung to him, the growl deepening as their kiss did, and soon he joined her song.
He slipped his free arm around her waist and hauled her closer, her lean, toned body hot against him. His cock stirred as his beast demanded he stake his claim on this woman. This woman whose kisses woke him up in a way that no woman had before, whose very presence challenged him to be better. This woman whom he could never claim as his mate.
***
The unfairness of finding her and knowing he could never have her collided with his earlier rage, and he jerked away. Jillian stumbled backward two steps, her cheeks flushed and lips moist. Confusion flashed in her eyes and creased her brow. She was panting, her arousal a faint tang in the air between them.
“I’m sorry,” Bishop said, his voice hoarse, tight. “I can’t.”
“I’m a widow, Bishop, and you’re Gray. This isn’t a declaration for either of us.”
“This is nothing for either of us.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You felt the same thing I did.”
He felt that and more, and he hated himself for allowing a taste of her, because he wanted more. He had to make that impossible. Make her step back. “Are you sure?” he asked with a derisive sneer.
She faltered, uncertain for the first time since they’d met, and he’d done that. With time and distance between herself and this moment, she would understand that ending this before it began was the correct choice. Besides, he didn’t deserve something in his life that could make him happy, even if only temporarily. He wasn’t allowed that, not while Knight suffered.
He knew enough of her past to draw on the cruelest thing possible in order to drive her away. “This is a mistake.” Stone cold. Hateful. “I’m not really into a dead man’s leftovers.”
Fury darkened her expression, and her entire body coiled tight. He braced for a slap, a punch, some physical manifestation of her temper. She took a step toward him, rage rolling off of her in waves that tempted his Gray’s instinctive need to kneel beneath the weight of a Black’s fury. He forced himself to stay still. Not to apologize.
“You have no idea what I lost that night,” she said, her voice cold. Brittle.
She walked away.
Bishop leaned against the shed, sick at what he’d done. Sick over everything that had happened today, and certain he had just lost something very precious.
Chapter Two
September
The situation seemed well in hand by the time Bishop made a necessary appearance at the old Flynn Boarding House, drawn there by a 411 text from his brother Rook. 411 was code for a nonemergency that required a strong reaction from Bishop, the oldest son of the run’s Alpha and his future replacement. And anything that happened at the boarding house demanded Bishop’s attention. The old building was housing the sixteen refugees from another run that been decimated two weeks ago, and not all had integrated well, causing the occasional fight to break out with Cornerstone residents.
A handful of curious bystanders scattered when Bishop hit the boarding house’s front porch, leaving four people waiting for his attention. Rook stood with his arms folded, his gaze steely, clearly put out by the whole incident. He was with Jonas Geary, the son of the refugee run’s dead Alpha, and the de facto Alpha for his people. Jonas was glaring at the two females standing at attention between him and Rook, the burn scars on Jonas’s face giving the expression more fury than he probably felt.
No one was bleeding, so Bishop put that into the plus column.
“What the hell happened?” Bishop snapped.
The Cornerstone loup looked up, keeping her gaze on Bishop’s chin as a sign of respect instead of looking him in the eye. Lila Smythe worked in Smythe’s Restaurant, the only big eating establishment the town had to offer, other than a small bakery and diner across the street. She was also young, headstrong, and seemed to share her family’s blatant dislike of the Potomac run refugees.
“A misunderstanding, sir,” Lila said.
“A misunderstanding that required two Blacks to break it up?” Bishop shifted his glare to the other woman, and it took a moment for her name to come. Rachel Kowalski, unmarried, human-loup half-breed, no surviving relatives. Potomac had been a rarity among runs, in that they allowed their loup to reproduce with humans. “Anything more constructive to add, Ms. Kowalski?”
Rachel blinked, probably surprised that he knew her name. “It was a personal matter, sir. It should not have escalated to the point where intervention was needed.”
“You’re right about that.” Since the women weren’t being very forthcoming, despite his presence, Bishop turned his impatience over to Rook. “What happened?”
“They were fighting over Devlin,” Rook replied.
Bishop couldn’t stop his eyebrows from shooting up in surprise. Devlin Burke was
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