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  There was a spark in the center of the being’s eyes that made me stretch forward to lean in closer. And my existence must have been equally attractive to the midnight-furred animal. Because it crept toward me in perfect synchrony, still crouching low enough to protect its belly even as it strove to capture a better view of me.

  Not it—she. After all, we were the same in every way that mattered. Never mind that I was two-legged while she walked on four paws. Never mind that her fur was black while mine was red. This was someone who would understand my deepest yearnings. This was another kitsune just like myself.

  The tiniest hint of a whine emerged from the black fox’s muzzle, her eyes watery with trust and request. Could I help her escape these werewolves...?

  And in that moment of inattention, the shifters between us struck. One minute they were pushing and shoving, trying to reach the fox on human tiptoes. The next, a two-legger had boosted a four-legger on top of the refrigerator, placing the kitsune’s ability to nod at me ever again into doubt.

  Luckily, fridges aren’t made for werewolf perching; the tops are too small and slippery for claws to find traction of any sort. And while the wolf teetered, unable to snap up its prey while maintaining its own balance, I made a decision that I knew I’d later regret.

  “Here!” I called to the black fox, letting my sword recede as I stretched out both arms toward her. “Jump! I’ll protect you!”

  Because I couldn’t let an innocent being perish, even if the last thing this pack needed was two kitsunes facing off against a mob of angry werewolves.

  And the fox trusted me. Leapt across the surging, seething shifters who separated us to settle into my arms as easily as Kira had done hundreds of times during our thirteen-year shared past. Only, unlike my little sister, the stranger tucked her paws inward to ensure she didn’t scratch me. And her eyes, when they met mine, were full of gratitude rather than snark.

  The lump in my throat came from instant bonding. My arms tightened, my shoulders hunching over to protect the black-furred critter I hugged into my chest. I inhaled the soft musk of fox fur...and in that moment of calm and quiet, the wolves forgot I was Gunner’s and launched themselves at me en masse.

  “Get out!”

  Gunner’s roar was so loud it rattled the windows. Or maybe that reverberation was due to the thunder of a hundred feet as werewolves fled in the face of their pack leader’s wrath. Whatever the reason, I was no longer in danger of losing my throat to supposed pack mates and my nose was grateful for the abrupt cessation of sulfur. So I uncurled from around the black-furred kitsune and peered up at my rescuer...who held a very naked yet very human Kira against his chest.

  The alpha’s arm was steely without denting my sister’s skin painfully. And at the same time he still managed to look so murderous he might have stopped his underlings’ breath with a single command. In reaction, the black fox nestled closer into my body, clearly terrified of the aura of electricity emanating from the wolf blocking her ability to retreat.

  The fox’s fear I would deal with in a minute. For now, I rose while scanning Kira’s exposed limbs. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Not that you care,” my sister answered, brows lowering. “I might have been dead. I might have been injured. And you ran off in the opposite direction without even bothering to check on me.”

  “I’m checking now.” And I’d also seen both Tank and Gunner racing directly toward my sister, so I’d known she was better protected than anyone else in the house.

  Still, the pout on Kira’s face promised she wouldn’t let me off the hook so easily. Meanwhile, my quick survey of her limbs proved that the werewolves in question had done their job quite well. So I sighed acceptance of the fact that I was currently incapable of pleasing my sister and returned my focus to the strange fox instead.

  Was Gunner really willing to fold yet another kitsune into his faltering clan structure? And would the pack splinter further if I dared to ask?

  “Gunner...” I started, not sure exactly how to explain the fact that I ached to help this black-furred kitsune. It wasn’t so much a humanitarian mission as a compulsion and a need as imperative as hunger.

  But apparently explanations were unimportant. Because the skin around his eyes crinkled ever so slightly as he jerked his chin upwards in a promise. As long as I didn’t sneak off on my lonesome, this werewolf had my back.

  So—“You can shift,” I told the fox, prying her away from my neck and placing her on the kitchen table beside me, the separation hitting me in the gut for just a second before it eased. “Gunner won’t hurt you. I promise. We’ll protect you from whatever drove you here.”

  Of course, the kitsune didn’t regain her human form immediately. Instead, her dark eyes flickered back and forth between me and Gunner. She was assessing, gauging, calculating her chances....

  In response, the rest of us kept our bodies relaxed and our gazes averted. And even though our body language was more lupine than vulpine, the black fox still gave a tiny whine of acceptance before shimmering into the form of a naked, redheaded girl.

  “I’m Oyo,” she whispered, gaze trained on the floorboards as her legs beat against the side of the table she sat atop. She was younger than me but older than Kira. In human terms, I would have guessed she was just barely old enough to drink.

  “My mate speaks for me,” Gunner answered formally. “Just as she’s promised, so do I promise. Tell us who’s chasing you and we’ll make sure they never find you again.”

  His words were protective, exactly what you’d expect from an alpha werewolf. But his tone was still gravelly with rage from the preceding battle, and his fur-form self was almost visible as he took one step toward the girl.

  No wonder Oyo didn’t realize his advance was an offer to guard rather than a threat of imminent danger. Squeaking in reaction to the vague menace, the redhead was a redhead no longer. Instead, she’d fallen back down into the skin of her fox.

  Chapter 4

  Oyo scurried for cover, disappearing behind the refrigerator. Gunner growled in frustration then pulled me in the opposite direction even as he barked orders at his most trusted underlings, who had braved his wrath by remaining in my disaster zone of a living room.

  “Allen, I want to know why no one smelled or saw a stray kitsune walking into clan central under her own power. Tank, check the perimeter and figure out where she came in.”

  His gaze slid across me so fiercely that I found words tumbling out of my mouth before I could consider whether they helped or hurt matters. “Gunner, I didn’t invite...” I started, his sudden burst of alpha highhandedness making me wish my fingers were wrapped around a sword hilt rather than stuck in his crushing handhold.

  “Edward, the pack needs reassurance,” Gunner continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Think of a solution now.” Then, as the last few werewolves waiting in the living room scattered, he turned to face me at last. “Yes, Mai, I know you didn’t invite her.” The statement seemed to absolve me of all wrongdoing, but his harsh tone didn’t quite match his words.

  And even though I knew Gunner was on edge from the recent risk to me and Kira, annoyance nonetheless flared at being treated like a toddler’s doll. Because every time the alpha turned one way, I was dragged along behind him. Then he’d swivel in the opposite direction and give me a severe case of whiplash.

  “I’m not...” I started, not quite sure what I wasn’t. But this time the high-handed alpha hushed me with a finger to my lips even as he yanked out his phone and tapped rapidly at the screen.

  “Brother, what a surprise.” The call went through after only one ring, Ransom’s voice so saccharine that it made my teeth ache. Or maybe that was just my fox incisors pushing their way through human dentition and gums in an effort to get out.

  Either way, I wished I could see the elder Atwood’s face through the cell phone. Had he answered so quickly because he’d sent Oyo to disrupt clan central? Or had he simply been at loose ends and thought baiting h
is brother might be a good way to fill an otherwise quiet night?

  If I’d been the one in charge, I would have danced around the matter in an effort to tempt Ransom into dropping private information. But Gunner wasn’t human enough for small talk, at the moment. Instead, he merely demanded, “Who did you tell?”

  The words were a mistake—all three of us understood that as soon as they were uttered. And the smugness in Ransom’s silence spurred me to take matters into my own hands in an effort at damage control.

  “Ransom, thank you for accepting our call,” I interjected, pressing my face closer to the phone and half expecting Gunner to yank the device away from me even as I spoke. But he didn’t. Instead, he closed his eyes then swiped one huge palm across his face as if to remove overwhelming frustration. And when his sienna eyes blinked back open, they were full of both apology and praise.

  Taking that as my cue to continue, I offered Ransom a sliver of information, hoping he’d give us something back in exchange. “A strange fox shifter showed up here this evening, which has your brother understandably excited. What he meant to ask was—do you have any idea how a kitsune might have heard this would be a safe place to hide?”

  That conundrum had been roiling through my head ever since Oyo appeared on top of my refrigerator. After all, Gunner had kept my and Kira’s identity so closely under wraps that only our pack and Ransom’s should have known there were any kitsunes still living. So how had a stray fox shifter known to sneak into my home?

  But apparently Oyo wasn’t the biggest issue for the pair of siblings. Instead, Ransom’s reply was clearly aimed not at me but rather at his brother.

  “Who did I tell about you harboring illegal kitsunes? Is that what you meant to ask me?” Then, without waiting for confirmation: “No one yet, brother. But just imagine what might happen if I did.”

  “I SHOULDN’T HAVE TOLD him about Oyo.”

  I was kicking myself for playing right into Ransom’s hands. But—despite the cell phone shattered on the ground and the strong scent of fur hovering around us—Gunner was back in control of himself and didn’t appear to blame me.

  No, it was his brother who served as the focus of the pack leader’s ire. “He was lying,” Gunner grumbled as he paced back and forth through the living room, crunching shattered glass and crockery beneath his boots.

  “Maybe not,” I interjected from my spot perched atop the arm of a blue, plush sofa. “Maybe I just gave Ransom an opening to threaten you. I’d be more certain he was responsible if you hadn’t been the one to call him first.”

  Unfortunately, rational cause and effect clearly weren’t working yet inside my favorite alpha’s noggin. Because he kept walking and talking as if he hadn’t heard my words at all. “If Ransom is spreading the word that you and your sister are under my protection,” he growled, “then everyone knows he and I are no longer an unbeatable alliance. Our pack didn’t have to fend off vultures when our father died because Ransom and I were united in our defense of clan central. But with only me on the job...we should start expecting visits from neighboring packs.”

  “Visits?” That didn’t sound horrible. But from Gunner’s tone, I had a feeling these neighbors weren’t the welcome-wagon sort of werewolves. Sure enough, he shook his head as he continued pacing. Then, abruptly, he pulled me to my feet and brushed one absurdly gentle hand across the top of my head.

  “Please be a little more careful of your own skin,” he murmured, warm breath brushing over my forehead. His voice was still gravelly, but the please made up for all of his former heavy-handedness, warming locations lower down than my heart.

  “I will,” I promised, leaning into his broad body. But before I made contact, before I could turn that opening into a moment of shared pleasure...Gunner had set me back down on my sofa arm and disappeared out the door.

  Unfortunately, the larger problem didn’t disappear along with him. Instead, once my libidinous haze lifted, I clearly heard Kira slamming around in the kitchen. Oyo was silent but presumably still hiding. And my phone beeped to herald the arrival of an incoming text.

  Cringing at the appearance of a number I’d never seen before but that I suspected corresponded to Gunner’s brother, I swiped a reluctant finger to open the message up.

  “I grant you free passage to and from Kelleys Island if you’d like to come and talk about it.”

  And wasn’t that just going to float Gunner’s boat?

  Chapter 5

  While I was focusing on Ransom, Oyo must have found a better hiding place. Because she was no longer behind the refrigerator when Kira picked her way through a minefield of spilled cheese dip and broken crockery to reach my side.

  “I’m starving,” my sister noted.

  “So eat,” I replied, dismissing Oyo’s absence—if I couldn’t find the visiting kitsune, then likely the pack couldn’t either—while turning Ransom’s text over in my mind.

  Was Gunner right in pointing the finger at his brother? Was Oyo’s arrival merely bait intended to tempt neighboring packs into tearing Atwood clan central down?

  “Maaaaiiiii. You don’t care about me at aaaaaaaalllllll.” Kira’s whine was an eleven on the one-to-ten whine-o-meter. And even though I didn’t want to encourage that behavior, one glance at paw prints on counters and glass shards peppering every edible item gave me an idea on how to keep her busy and allow me to reward good behavior at the same time.

  “Help me clean up the worst of this mess and we’ll go find a restaurant.”

  “Pancakes?” Kira’s eyes lit up even as she half-heartedly opened a closet door in search of a dustpan.

  “Whatever you want,” I answered, hoping I wasn’t making a promise I couldn’t make good on. After all, it was getting late even for dinner. I wasn’t so sure an all-day-breakfast joint would miraculously materialize within an easy drive.

  But Old Red was outside, ready and waiting. And the agreement was enough to spur my sister into action. Starting in the kitchen, we swept and scrubbed and cleaned intensively enough for us both to grow filthy and sweaty, for Kira to turn cranky, and for me to wonder what I was doing moving in with this pack.

  Because our neighbors were werewolves. They walked into each others’ houses without knocking, knew everything there was to know about everybody else’s business...and yet not a single neighbor had returned to the scene of the crime to help us deal with this horrifying mess.

  “How much longer do we have to...?” Kira started. But I didn’t need her whine to spur me into action this time.

  “We’re going,” I interjected, deciding that both clutter and Oyo would be okay on their own for a little while longer. If the black-furred kitsune was savvy enough to have made her way through pack territory without being sniffed out, she could continue hiding in the cottage until we got back.

  “Just give me five minutes to shower,” I started, intending to finish with: And then we’ll find pancakes. But as Kira pushed ahead of me into the living room—a disaster zone we hadn’t even started to deal with—I froze, smelling the scent of fur so strongly that I knew a werewolf was right outside the open door.

  Only, I was wrong. Because, with a yip, the cutest wolf pup imaginable jumped out from under the couch and dove into a bowlful of beef jerky.

  There weren’t werewolves outside stalking us. There was one very curious youngster right inside our home.

  Inside our home and getting ready to chow down on food that was likely full of glass shards. “Kira, grab it!” I commanded, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sidestep my sister’s body in time to stop the pup myself.

  And, for once, my sister obeyed without argument. She launched herself at the young werewolf, snagging its rear foot and dragging it toward her even as it wriggled in protest at losing access to its chosen feast.

  “Calm down,” she chided as she grabbed for the pup’s ruff and ended up encircling its neck instead. The grip was meant to be protective but looked an awful lot like attempted murder....

 
No wonder a roar of rage preceded the arrival of a much larger animal into our midst. The werewolf in question leapt through the open doorway with eyes blazing, then she landed stiff-legged right in the middle of a spray of broken glass.

  WHETHER OR NOT THE adult wolf cut her paws, none of us noticed. Because she was far more dangerous than the glass beneath her feet. The wolf took one look at Kira’s stranglehold on the wriggling puppy, then she skidded across carpet in her haste to tear my sister apart.

  “Hey! Over here!” I waved the sword that had materialized in my hand, doing my best to look both imposing and dangerous. Not that I planned to slice open a mother protecting her child. But I also refused to let my own sister be injured due to an overprotective parent’s wrath.

  And the sword did the job I’d intended—it focused the adult wolf’s attention quite firmly on me rather than on my sister. Swiveling, the female bared her teeth in momentary warning, then she lunged directly at me.

  Dodging wasn’t an option when my opponent was traveling so quickly. Meanwhile, behind my back, Kira emitted a terrified squeak. So I did the only thing I could think of. I softened my sword magic until it became immaterial, then I hardened it again into the form of a club.

  Thwack! My edgeless weapon struck the wolf’s shoulder so hard she tumbled forward into a summersault, but she was back on her feet before I’d regathered my own momentum and put up my guard. This time, her paws struck my shoulders and I was the one falling backward, something sharp slicing through the side of my left arm as I tried—and failed—to make my escape.

  “No teeth!” Kira roared, her words sounding distant as the wolf’s hot breath licked against my cheek, my chin, then lower. I struggled to turn my magic into a shield to protect my jugular, but I couldn’t seem to regather either my powers or my wind.